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gay-dorito-dust · 8 months

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I come bearing a brainrot of a relatively normal s/o for the Lin Quei bois except s/o can see dead spirits and always keep a straight face. Sometimes they act weird bc they're avoiding a really nasty looking ghost and have grown numb to it. But when the bois finally catch a glimpse at the 'ghosts' their beloved mentioned all they see is some kind of eldritch horror. (This came from my recent fascination with the manga/anime series Mieruko-Chan)

Rate my really shitty attempt at creating eldritch creatures. (Actually don’t cuz I’m mega sensitive) 🦦

Tomas Vrbada

Ever since being forced by Johnny to watch horror movies, Tomas had been scared shitless when it comes to paranormal activity.

Ghosts, poltergeists, you name it, Tomas is scared of them all.

So when you -his seemingly normal but beloved partner- have been intentionally avoiding a certain spot in the Lin Kuei, shifting your gaze over in it’s direction now and then before ignoring it completely with a straight face, he didn’t think much do it at frisky but the more and more it has became the more Tomas started to feel an indescribable feeling within his chest.

It was the same feeling that he would often get when having been forced to watch a horror movie with Johny, that feeling where he knew something scary was about about to happen, which only worsened the longer the scene continued to build and ramp up the tension and to have him too scared to even look over his own shoulder; only to near enough be scared shitless a second later and loose hold of his popcorn.

Needless to say Tomas had been forced to watch one too many movie where the protagonist was somewhat clairvoyant to known that when you were giving a very specific area, out of the entire Lin Kuei no less, an cautious look. He knew better then to ever indulge in any amount of curiosity that he may have, even if it was a smidge, he would pretended that he saw nothing and would go about his day like normal. He wasn’t about to become one of those stupid characters who’d willingly go into a house that was very clearly haunted by visage alone!

He’s following your example right down to a T! He honestly doesn’t want to know what was lurking in that corner and he wasn’t particularly all that eager to find out either. Tomas would rather life the rest of his life in ignorant bliss if he could, but unfortunately for him that wasn’t going to be the case, for he had found himself having to go to that very room to get something for his brothers. However as soon as he opened the door, Tomas caught a glimpse of the thing in the corner that you’ve ominously warned him about.

It was hideous, so hideous in fact the sight of it made Tomas want to gag but he knew he couldn’t, so he slapped a hand over his mouth. The creature had bore the appearance of a pure bred Russian bear dog, but unfortunately for Tomas, that’s pretty much where the similarities started and stopped; For it had clusters of small, almost peddle sized eyes that were black as night taking up it’s entire face.

That wasn’t all, when the creature opened it’s mouth -if Tomas could even call it that- it’s stomach would rip open just as a thousand pair of what could only be described as human hands emerged out from said stomach, palms laying flat on the floor, as they began to shuffle across the floor in search of something. One particular pair of hands almost came into contact with Tomas’ foot, almost making him scream, but upon realising that their search efforts bore no fruit, the hands then retracted back into the creatures stomach, where it would then close itself up as though someone had just zipped it shut from the inside, before moving towards a different part of the room.

Scared out of his wits, Tomas bolted out of the room, completely forgetting what he had originally went there for, and just ran as fast as he could. He ran even when his legs began to hurt, he ran even when his lungs were begging for breath and he ran even when he had all but forgotten why he was even running in the first place. Tomas didn’t stop running until he saw you heading towards him, his brothers probably sent you to see what was taking him so long, and without a second thought; Tomas held you in his arms tightly, burying his head deep into your neck as he whispered.

‘How can you bare to seeing these things on a daily basis.’ The image of that thing was forcefully seared into Tomas’ mind, haunting him forever.

You didn’t have to ask further details as to what it was that he saw and instead reciprocated his hug, stroking the hairs at the back of his neck reassuringly, whilst pressing kisses into the side of his head where your would then rest your cheek against. ‘I don’t.’ You replied, looking straight ahead at the creature just as it poked it’s head out of the door, staring at you with all of their small beady black eyes before slinking off into the room across through the wall.

Kuai Liang

Concerned was a word that was often used to describe what Kuai Liang felt whenever you would shuffle closer towards his back, you might as well have been hiding, when passing down a particular hallway as your eyes were focused forward. Almost as though you were avoiding looking at something you didn’t like by pretending it didn’t exist.

Kuai Liang was aware of your uncanny ability to see the dead as you did the living, it was one of the things you disclosed to him upon first meeting, and even recalled the stories you’d tell him regarding the kinds of ghosts you’ve come across. Upon further questioning as to what they looked like you told Kuai Liang that most were human or humanoid in figure, but others went beyond the realm of human comprehension.

The latter of the two kinds were the ones you tended to avoid having direct contact with the most and this most recent one was no different.

‘Is it them, my love?’ Kuai Liang asked, looking over his shoulder at you worriedly.

You hummed. ‘They’re always with us, following but they most like to stay here and watch everyone who passes by.’

Kuai Liang pursed his lips at this new tidbit of information, whilst concerning learning this was, he was concerned about was getting you out of this hallway a lot more. Just as he was reaching back to grab your hand, Kuai Liang caught slight movement from out of the corner of his eye but before you could say anything, his eyes were already locked onto the other side of the hallway; more specifically the area you purposefully avoid looking towards every time you have to come down this hallway.

Kuai Liang remembered you telling him that It shouldn’t be possible for him see what you see, but it wasn’t uncommon for ghost to become temporarily visible. So with that in mind Kuai Liang could only deduct that what he was seeing before him what you regarded as a type two ghost; In all honesty the word ghost didn’t quite seem to match what he was currently seeing.

The creature in question was about his height, maybe a little shorter, then again he wasn’t quite sure considering it was sort of slouched. It appeared human enough in its physique, but something deep inside Kuai Liang told him that what was standing before him was far from human. He just couldn’t escape this deeply unsettling feeling that continued to grown within his chest the longer he continued to look. A sharp snapping sort of sound caught his ear, and in an instant his senses sharpened as Kuai Liang watched to see the creature viciously attempting in tearing it’s own face off with it’s hands that were infused with needles, as though desperate to get it off, to reveal…a smooth porcelain like mask beneath shredded and stringy bits of it’s former face.

As if watching that wasn’t enough the lower half of the smooth porcelain mask began to crack, a jagged fissure spread from one end to another like it was forming itself a mouth but once it had finished, the crack like mouth then began to open to reveal an endlessly dark void beneath and just before it could even think to speak; you quickly grabbed Kuai Liang’s hand and pulled him down the hallway until you were a safe distance from the creature. You could tell that seeing something like that had gotten to Kuai Liang, even if it was by a little margin.

‘Are you okay?’ You asked, squeezing his hand.

‘I fear for you little flame.’ Kuai Liang admitted. ‘Your gift for seeing these things, I worry that it will plunge you into the darkest depth that not even my fire would be nearly enough to guide you out safely.’ You smiled sympathetically at his concern. ‘As long as I don’t acknowledge them or give them a line of communication, then there’s nothing to worry about.’ You reassured him but you could tell that it wasn’t enough with the way his brows furrowed deeper with worry. ‘Doesn’t mean that I wont still worry about you.’ He utters, tightening his grip on your hand, afraid to let go.

‘I’m not expecting you to because no matter what I know you’ll always worry about me but I promise when I tell you that no harm can come to me if I don’t incite it. I’ve lived with this my entire life, all I ask of you is to trust me.’ You practically begged as you stared Kuai Liang deep into his eyes and watched as he sighed before pressing his head against your own. ‘I trust you with my life, little flame.’ He says in a hushed whisper. ‘However it’s within my duty to protect you from all harm, living or not.’ You smiled at his warm words, closing your eyes as you learnt in towards his natural warmth.

‘Then at least let me protect you from time to time.’ You cheeked, causing Kuai Liang to let out a deep chuckle as he pressed a little kiss to your lips. ‘I won’t make any promises.’ He cheeked.

Bi-Han

Now Bi-Han wouldn’t say he whether he did or didn’t believe in ghosts, but even if he did he wouldn’t be one to actively try to prove their existence. He was the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei, he had no time for such childish ridiculousness, not when there were more pressing matters that were more worthy of his time and effort anyway.

However when you first told him that you could see ghosts, Bi-Han didn’t know what to make of it, he’s not one to discredit your abilities in anyway shape or form. He’s not like Tomas who watches one too many horror movies and starts flinching at every subtle creak or groan of the floorboards. Yet that doesn’t mean he didn’t find your power intriguing because after all Bi-Han is a man who strives to know more, he strives for knowledge and so he would take this opportunity to fully understand how exactly your power works.

He even takes note how you purposefully ignore an area with everything you had, keeping your head down or eyes facing forward whenever you had to go anywhere near it, coming out of the room with a straight face as though you weren’t fazed but Bi-Han was well trained in knowing when his intended target was lying and or on edge. Upon asking why you were avoiding that specific part of the Lin Kuei, he took in everything you told him about the ghost that you encountered, engraving every last detail it into his head as to paint himself a picture, but even then Bi-Han doesn’t think it remotely resembles the creature that you saw.

Never did he think that he would ever see it for himself but one day he did indeed find himself staring into the unsettlingly large, bulging eyes of the creature as it breathed heavily, as though it was severely out of breath and was just now recovering. It was about half his size and had hair covering everywhere…well except its midsection, which was all just leathery skin that rose and fell with its breathing pattern. It’s hands were human but everything else about it wasn’t, it had lost it’s lower mouth, leaving only it’s top row of sharp teeth; making the question of how it could possibly eat or consume anything to Bi-Han’s morbid curiosity.

The creature then proceeded to close the distance between the two of them and all Bi-Han could smell was death, blood and rotting flesh but he wasn’t fazed. He was aware of what the creature was doing and wasn’t about to give it the reaction it so desperately wanted, he was above these childish attempts of intimidation; So in retaliation Bi-Han only narrowed his eyes, presenting himself in a way that told the creature that he could see what it was doing and that he was above such tactics. He could see why you’d avoid looking upon these things, they could send a weaker minded person to the brink of insanity upon first glance, but Bi-Han was made of much tougher material to succumb to such.

The creature backed of, finding no enjoyment in this at all, and left the room through the wall on all fours for much weaker prey, looking like some dog with a sever case of mange.

Later that day where you and Bi-Han were settling down for the night, Bi-Han then decided to admit to what he saw prior, not liking to keep such things from you especially when it’s in regards to your powers. ‘I saw it.’ He said point blank as he stroked your back and it took you a moment to realise what he had meant by that before a look of realisation spread across your face. ‘You did? I thought that wasn’t possible.’ You replied.

‘It was only a glimpse but what I saw, I saw it as clear as I see anything else.’ Bi-Han told you, wondering how it was that you could keep your psyche intact when seeing such vile creatures on a daily basis. He even wondered if you’ve seen some that were even more grotesque then the one he had encountered earlier.

‘Not exactly a pleasant sight are they?’ You joked, looking at him with a small smile, knowing firsthand how unnerving it was to know that such things could possibly exist, even though you did finally mange to find a routine you had followed religiously in the events where you did happen to encounter them. Unfortunately It never truly gets rid of your first experience with seeing them for the first time, firmly believing that you were going to die due to how horrific and fear inducing they were.

‘No, I’m guessing that I’m right in assuming that this one pales in comparison to others you’ve had the misfortune of seeing?’ Bi-Han asked, watching your every expression like a that of a hawk. ‘Way worse.’ You responded as you snuggle yourself deeper into his chest, closing your eyes to avoid looking at the glowing pair of eyes that peered into yours and Bi-Han’s room.

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atinylittlepain · 10 months

Text

Crush On You

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

Hungry Hearts masterlist

The summer of '86, a season of love, record-breaking heat, and evening softball games in one Austin neighborhood. What happens when seventeen years later, that lost love comes back around?

warnings | 18+ cursing, smut, young joel is a goddamn menace

wordcount | 9K

a/n | hi folks, i come bearing part two of my hungry hearts series. she's long, okay? i'm sorry, the spirit of young joel possessed me what can i say. hope y'all enjoy this one, come tell me what you think in my inbox! also much love, much thanks to my trenchcoat brother @northernbluess for beta-reading this baby - love you, cousin

.....................................

“Well, well, look who has graced us with her presence. How’d you scare her out of hiding, Miller?”

“Oh, you know, black mail, extortion, a cattle prod.” Her scowl is lost on the pair as Mikey Donahue pulls Joel into a hug that’s more of a gruff back slap than anything else before promptly putting a beer in his hand. Meanwhile, she’s already regretting her decision to come along, trying to temper her grimace when Mikey hooks his arm around her shoulders to crush her into his side, grinning big and boozy down at her.

“Good to see you, big city. College suits you.” She has to laugh, seeing as Mikey didn’t have the time of day for her in high school and now he seems to be all too intent on laying the charm on thick.

“Thanks, Mikey, that’s real, uh, kind of you.” Before Mikey can reply with what she’s sure would be an equally charming remark, Joel curls his fingers in the neck of his t-shirt to pry him away from her, steering him further into the house.

“Alright, Mike, don’t scare her off, I just got her in the door. C’mon, man, I was promised a keg stand here.” All she gets from Joel is one more glance over his shoulder before she has been left entirely alone in a sea of her old classmates, with quite literally no escape route, considering she drove here in Joel’s rusted-out pick-up truck.

She fields a few polite hellos, trying her best to move through the house as unnoticed as possible to get to the backyard and away from the smell of sweat and socially anxious bodies. Mercifully, there’s only a few people outside, couples all tangled up and people smoking around the edge of the pool. She forgot Mikey Donahue had a pool, though she supposes his parents were always notorious for their money and how visible they made it.

This wasn’t her scene in high school, and it certainly isn’t now. Honestly, she’s not sure why she agreed to go with Joel in the first place. Oh yeah, Lisa-Anne. She kind of wishes she let Lisa-Anne have this one.

“Hey, big city, there you are!” Mikey again, this time with no Joel to wrangle him off and away from her. He really is the quintessential all-american boy, home from some expensive east coast school that she can’t remember the name of, the whole blonde and blue eye thing, floppy and smiley like a well-bred golden retriever. She isn’t quite sure where this sudden chumminess with her has come from, they certainly didn’t run in the same circles as teenagers. But there isn’t much room to ponder it when he has once again slung his arm around her, his face so close to hers that she can smell the pabst blue ribbon he probably just tossed back.

“Remind me what you’re studying all the way up in Chicago?” She knows for a fact that drunk Mikey has a temper, like, punching holes in the walls of his parents’ basement temper, so she makes no move to push him away, though she’d really like nothing more right now, trying and failing to create even an inch more of distance between them. Mikey doesn’t like that, dropping his arm to sling low around her waist, his fingers brushing against the bare skin between her jean shorts and where the fabric of her t-shirt has rucked up.

“I’m studying English.” It comes out smaller and quieter than she would like it to, her throat tightening with something like panic at Mikey’s continued advancements. On his part, Mikey seems to find the whole thing amusing, tossing his head back in a hard laugh.

“That’s right, always a little bookworm, weren’t you? Tell me this, what the hell can you even do with an English degree, big city?”

“You can do a lot of things with an English degree, Mike.” She’s just pissed off enough to finally yank out of his grip, sending him stumbling a few feet back, though he’s quick to recover with a laugh that sounds a little less friendly.

“I know it’s been a while since you’ve been home, big city, so I’m gonna do you a favor and pretend like that was just an accident.”

“Hey, Mike, where’d you go, man?” She’s never been so happy to hear Joel’s voice in her life, she thinks, taking one more subtle step back as he sidles up next to Mikey and slings his arm around his shoulders. The light from inside the house casts shadows over Joel’s forearm where it’s draped against Mikey’s chest, and she can see the tendons jumping there from how hard he’s holding onto him, though it otherwise looks like a friendly embrace.

“Was just catching up with that one, Miller, so you can fuck right off, thanks.” And there it is. She feels herself wince with the bite of Mikey’s words, though Joel stays completely calm, a placid and altogether unsettling smile quirking up his mouth.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink, man. Why don’t you leave the nice girl alone and go sleep it off before you do something you’re gonna regret?” She should probably do something other than stand there and stare at what is probably, definitely about to become a bad scene, a small crowd starting to form around them already. But she feels frozen where she stands, her eyes darting between Mikey’s sneer, and Joel’s ticking jaw.

“And who’s gonna make me regret it, Miller, huh? You?” Because they are apparently still children, the crowd of people let out a low chorus of ooooh at that. And then for a moment it’s perfectly silent and perfectly still, Joel and Mikey staring each other down in a strange, half-way thing between an embrace and a strangle-hold. But by the time she blinks again, the both of them have swung, Mikey missing and Joel making clipped contact with the side of Mikey’s jaw. It’s just enough to send Mikey stumbling back and over the edge of the pool, and because he’s still got a fist clenched in Joel’s shirt, he gets yanked in after him.

The crowd is quick to disperse after such a disappointing climax to their little spat, and while Mikey hauls himself out of the pool on the other side like a drowned cat, she finds herself offering out her hand to an equally sodden Joel. He drips all over her sneakers when he gets out, his flannel clinging to his torso, damp and darkened, something she tries not to pay too much attention to.

“You okay?”

“I’m not the one who just fell into a pool.” He drags a hand through his hair to get it slicked back out of his face, water still dripping off the tip of his nose as he looks at her. For a moment, she thinks that he looks small, a slight shiver in his shoulders, his eyes wide and his lashes all stuck together. He looks young, and he’s looking at her and only her.

“I’m fine, Cher, let’s get out of here, huh? This party is dead anyways.” With a quick shake back of his shoulders and a thumb swiped under his nose, that familiar front has already slipped back into place. But she’s fine with it if it means they’re going to get out of this place, letting Joel lead the barreling way back through the house, his sneakers squeaking and squelching with every step. And even though he looks ridiculous, dripping all over the hardwood floors of Mikey’s parents’ house, he keeps his chin tilted up like he owns the place and his shoulders squared off as broad as his leanness will allow, easily parting a path for them through the crowd and out onto the front lawn.

Neither of them speak when they get into the car, leaving the radio off as the engine splutters to life and they start winding their way back out of the wealthy neighborhood. She wants to say something, to thank him, to ask him if he’s sure that he’s okay, but she can’t find the right words, twisting her hands in her lap and watching the way the truck’s headlights spill out over the road.

“So you’re really going for it out in Chicago?” His voice breaking the silence startles her out of her simmering mind, and when she glances over at him, he only offers her a quick side sweep of his eyes before he focuses back on the road.

“You said you’re studying English?” He heard that? How long was he watching her and Mikey?

“Oh, um, yeah, yes.” She keeps her focus on the knuckles of his hand draped over the top of the steering wheel, a subtle tension and flexion to his grip.

“Gonna be a big shot writer, right? That was always your dream, wasn’t it?”

“When I was a kid, yeah. I don’t know, I’ll probably end up teaching, though I think my parents expect me to just wind up married and pregnant by the end of it anyways.” He snorts at that, shaking his head though he keeps his eyes on the road.

“You were always writing stories, Cherry.”

“Uh-huh.” Honestly, she’s surprised he held onto that fact, the ratty composition books she carried around everywhere as a child, and well into her teens too.

“Ever write one about me?”

“Oh, sure.”

“Wait, really?” His eyes finally dart over to her, eyebrows shot up his forehead and she has to bite back a laugh.

“Yeah, it was about your astonishing humility and non-existent ego.” She can barely get it out with a straight face, already dissolving into another laugh as Joel rolls his eyes at her dig.

“Alright, alright, guess I walked into that one.” They’ve just pulled up in front of her house, Joel flicking off the headlights so her parents don’t notice. For once, she’s in no hurry to get away from him, an honestly foreign feeling as they sit in his truck. He’s still soaking wet, his hair starting to stick up every which way from how it’s drying, though he seems perfectly content to keep staring at her, something like a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“You don’t like being home very much, do you, Cherry?”

“I really don’t, no.” She says it on a long sigh, no idea why she’s inclined to be honest with him like that.

“How come?”

“I feel like no one takes me seriously down here.”

“I do.”

“Joel.”

“What? I do.”

“How can that possibly be true when you still call me a name that came from me snorting soda out of my nose?”

“Okay, maybe originally it came from that, but that’s not why I call you it now, not really.”

“Please enlighten me then, why do you call me that?” His brow furrows for a moment, like he’s choosing his words carefully, opening and closing his mouth a few times before he finally answers.

“Because– because I just do, okay? But I do take you seriously, for the record.” She leans her head back on the seatrest, tilting her chin to look at him where he has his arm hanging over the steering wheel, his full body leaning and twisting toward her.

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh, and I’m gonna want a signed copy of your first book.”

“Oh please.”

“I’m dead serious, Cher. I probably won’t read it, but I reckon it’ll be worth something when you get all famous and shit.”

“Lovely, Joel, thanks so much for that.” He shrugs, though his gaze stays steady with hers, and it happens again, that softening around the edges, that kid she remembers. And again, it’s gone in a flash, Joel suddenly leaning toward her in an unexpected way. And, well, she reacts before she can really think.

“Jesus! What the fuck, Cher?” He has bodily recoiled from her back into the driver’s side, his palm cupping his cheek where she just landed a hard smack with the flat of her hand.

“Me what the fuck? You what the fuck? What the hell was that, Joel?”

“I don’t– I thought we were having a– a nice moment!” She goes to open the passenger side door, but Joel is quick to reach over and shut it again like a petulant child, eliciting a bitter laugh from her.

“We were until you pulled that shit. I’m not one of your little housewives that you can do whatever you want with.” This time, he doesn’t try to stop her when she clambers out of the truck, though he isn’t quite finished yet.

“Oh c’mon, Cherry! This ain’t playing fair!” She quickly shushes him before he starts to wake up half the neighborhood with his exclamations, only staying close enough to the car so she can whisper yell back at him.

“I’m not playing, Joel. Do me a favor and just stay away from me, why don’t you?”

…

While Sarah may not be the strongest batter, which is okay because Joel is working with her on it most afternoons, she makes for a mean third baseman, though part of him secretly wishes she played shortstop more often. And though he’s usually busy shouting reminders and tips at her from the bleachers, Joel is a bit preoccupied today watching something else, or someone else is more like it.

He’s never been so pissed at chain link fencing in his life for obscuring his view of her, standing in front of the bleachers with her arms crossed and her hip cocked out as she watches the game from behind sunglasses and a ball cap. But he’s also never been more grateful for the Austin swelter because it means that she’s in a tank top and jean shorts, and he’s pretty sure his mind is starting to short-circuit because it looks to him like Cherry picked up some tattoos in the last seventeen years. He can’t tell what they are from this distance, something wrapped over her right shoulder and down her bicep, and, fuck him, something on the top of her right thigh. So maybe he’s craning his neck a little to try to make out what the ink is, and maybe he should be paying more attention to the game, because when there’s suddenly some sort of scuffle on the field between the umpire and one of Sarah’s coaches, he has no clue what he missed.

“That was an out, are you kidding me? She tagged her!” He’s sitting close enough to third that he’s pretty sure it’s Ellie, at least he thinks that was her name, who the umpire and the coach are arguing over whether Sarah got her out or not before she stepped on third. Yeah, definitely Ellie, because here comes Cherry from the bleachers on the other side.

“Her foot was on the base when she tagged her, that wasn’t an out!” The umpire looks at Cherry with an amount of exasperation that tells Joel they’ve interacted before. Cherry, meanwhile, has her cap off and her sunglasses slanted down her nose to look at the ump with all the kindness of a parole officer.

“Ma’am please let us handle this and return to the bleachers.” He’s not sure why he decides to get involved, it’s not like he actually saw what happened. But the combination of it being Sarah who either did or didn’t get Ellie out and his own small desire to get a little closer to Cherry, regardless of the context, has him up off the bleachers and hooking his fingers through the chain link fence.

“I’m pretty sure it was an out, I had a better view of it than you did, Cher.” Judging by the way she scoffs and shakes her head, he probably shouldn’t have called her that, though there isn’t much time to ponder that when she’s walking over to him and getting as up in his face as she can with the thin mesh of chain link separating them.

“Don’t Cher me, Joel.”

“Mom, please, it’s fine, I’m pretty sure she got me before I tagged up.” Ellie and Sarah both look pretty ready for this situation to be over, huffing and rolling their eyes at their parents’ strange display.

“Els, you are not out, okay? You’re gonna stay on third and the game is gonna get going again–”

“Always were a sore loser.” It just slips out, and it isn’t even true. He was the sore loser, and he knows it, and judging by the way Cherry whips back around to glare at him, he has just incurred her admittedly deserved wrath.

“Oh, that is real rich coming from you, Joel Miller, you are–”

“Alright, folks, we don’t have time for this and I’m going to have to ask you both to wait in the parking lot while we finish this game.”

“What?” They say it at nearly the same time to the umpire, who just shakes his head at them and points toward the parking lot next to the ball field.

“Both of you, out of here, or I’m going to disqualify both of your girls from playing.” Well, really no arguing with that, especially not when Sarah and Ellie are giving them both pleading looks from behind the umpire. Cherry doesn’t give him another look, simply mutters an apology to the umpire before heading off toward the parking lot. And all he can do is sheepishly follow behind her with his own apology and a gruff play well offered to Sarah who just rolls her eyes at him.

No, not exactly what he had in mind for their second meeting.

He probably shouldn’t, but since he already seems to be playing the fool, he figures he doesn’t have much to lose in approaching her where she’s sitting in the popped-open trunk of her minivan, her sunglasses pushed up to the crown of her head and her legs swinging idly over the lip of the trunk.

“I’m, uh, sorry about all that.” Her eyebrows raise, a weary look that makes something hot and slippery curl in his gut, a little bashful under her gaze.

“I am too, I guess. They probably shouldn’t let us on the field together, huh?” Her words crack a bit dryly with the curl of her smile, instant relief washing over him in mirroring her expression.

“No, I reckon not.” She doesn’t say anything more, just scoots her hips to one side and pats the space next to her, an invitation he tries not to seem so eager to take as he sits down beside her. Close enough now that he can get a better look at the tattoo on her arm and her thigh. Something beating hard in his chest and tightening up his throat when he realizes that it’s a bouquet of chrysanthemums etched into her thigh. And on her arm, spiraling over her bicep and across her shoulder is a branch of a cherry tree.

…

There’s no other option on a Sunday. She wishes more than anything that there was, but she knows that everywhere else is closed.

“Thatcher’s auto and towing, how can I help you?” She hasn’t spoken to him in two weeks, not since that night they went to Mikey Donahue’s party. She even started picking Will up herself for dinner to avoid having him anywhere near her, pointedly ignoring the his shouts of her name from the ball field whenever she does. So hearing his voice gives her pause, and she nearly hangs the payphone back up, but she really has no other option right now.

“Uh, hi, my car broke down and I need to get it towed.”

“Cherry?”

“Um, yes?” There’s a long pause on the other end, though she’s pretty sure she can hear him let out a deep sigh.

“Shit, okay, where are you?”

“I’m out by the new mall, um, I think right off of eighth street? I don’t know what’s wrong with it, honestly it just sort of– gave out on me.”

“Alright, I’ll be there in five, just stay right where you are.”

“Well, I can’t exactly go anywhere else, Joel.” She can hear the sound of something metal clanging around in the background, followed by Joel letting out a low curse.

“Right, yeah, just hang tight.” With that, he hangs up with a quiet click, and all that’s left to do is walk the two blocks back to her car. Technically, it’s her mom’s car, her old station wagon that had been given to her as a graduation gift, dark green with wood paneling and a dent in the back bumper that she has somehow managed to hide from both of her parents for a year now. She gives the car another once over, definitely nothing wrong with her tires, and she’s not even going to pretend like she’d know what’s going on under the hood, so she settles against the side of the car door and bides her time watching the slow trickle of traffic pass by.

It’s the middle of the afternoon, another record-breaking day of heat, she’s pretty sure. At least it feels that way, her eyes set in a perpetual squint under the hard beat of the sun as she swipes at the sweat on her forehead with the back of her wrist. Though mercifully she’s not waiting for long when a truck with the Thatcher’s Auto logo on the side comes pulling up alongside where she had managed to park her car on the shoulder of the road. He hops out of the truck, dressed in a pair of coveralls with the sleeves tied around his waist, a white wife beater on top that’s smeared with grease stains, and she has to remind herself that she’s still pissed at him when his dimple pops with a sheepish smile as he approaches her, tugging the baseball cap off his head to run a hand through his hair before settling his hat on backwards.

“Hey, Cherry, um, how– how have you been?”

“I’ve been better, Joel, considering that my car won’t even start.” Nope, she’s not going to give him anything else, setting her jaw in a hard line and jerking her chin back over her shoulder as if to say get on with it. Joel seems to take the hint, giving her a jerky nod before taking a quick look around her car.

“Well, your tires look fine. Lemme pop the hood and see if it’s anything obvious.” She hopes more than anything that it is something obvious, that she isn’t going to have to drive back to the shop with him, but judging by the way Joel lets the hood close with a shake of his head, she doesn’t think she has gotten so lucky.

“I don’t know, Cher, I think you’re gonna have to come back to the shop with me so I can take a closer look.” She pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to hold back a frustrated groan before she finally looks at Joel again.

“Okay, fine, and how long is that gonna take, do you think?”

“Got a few other cars I have to take care of first, but it shouldn’t be too long. You okay to wait at the shop?”

“I don’t think I have much of a choice, so yeah.” She waits in the cab of the truck while Joel hitches her car up, keeping her eyes flicked down and out of the passenger window when he gets back in.

“You giving me the silent treatment?”

“No, I just don’t have anything to say to you.” She doesn’t look at him as she says it, but she can hear the huff of a sigh he lets out before he cranks the truck into drive. He doesn’t try to talk to her for the rest of the drive, and she keeps her arms crossed pointedly in front of her chest, her whole body angled toward the passenger-side door. However, when they pull into the garage at Thatcher’s and she tries to get out, the lock on her door promptly clicks down and the handle won’t budge.

“Can we just talk for a second, Cher?” She pries the lock back open, but just as soon as she does, Joel clicks it back into place, forcing her to finally glare at him. His brow is furrowed and his knee is bouncing in his seat, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d guess that he’s nervous.

“Fine, what is so important that you have to lock me into your truck like a goddamn serial killer?”

“Wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t being so goddamn stubborn to begin with.” She lets out a clipped bark of laughter at that, once again pulling the lock up on her own to try to get out, and once again, like a deranged comedy act, he clicks it back into place before she can even get her fingers around the handle.

“Joel Miller, I swear to God, if you don’t let me out of this car right now I’m going to scream.”

“I just– just– fuck, Cherry, I’m sorry, okay? I wanted to say that I’m sorry.” That gives her pause. There have been only two other times in her life that Joel has apologized to her. The first time was when they were eight years old, and really, she thinks, it shouldn’t count because his mom forced him to, her hand between his small shoulder blades nudging him forward to say sorry for pulling on her braid from the pew behind her at church and making her cry.

The second time, they were ten. That one does count. She was sitting on the swings at the playground down the street, scribbling in her notebook when a little crew of boys in the grade above her came out of nowhere and started heckling her. Joel showed up on his bike as she was picking up the tattered pages and scraps of what had been the story she was working on in her notebook. She remembers that she was trying really hard not to cry in front of him when he knelt down beside her to help her gather the torn pieces, small hands trying to make it right. He had nothing to be sorry for, but he still said that he was real sorry, Cher, quiet, and sounding much older and wearier than a ten-year-old should. That one counts. But otherwise, those words coming out of his mouth have been non-existent, so she can’t help but fall silent to hear just what he has to say.

“You’re sorry?” He takes off his cap again, setting it down on the dash of the truck and dragging his hand back through his hair, very clearly having to work himself up to saying it again when he finally looks at her.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about what happened after Mikey’s party. I just– I thought that you–”

“Thought that I what? Did you really think I was going to be that easy, Joel?”

“What? No, if you would just let me finish speaking for Christ’s sake, I know that’s kind of difficult for you and your big mouth–”

“Wow, Joel, you really know how to apologize to a girl, huh?” With that, he slams the heel of his hand against the steering wheel, letting out a sharp curse that makes any other smart remarks fizzle out in her throat.

“You know what, Cher? Just forget it. You can go wait in the office and I’ll have your car ready for you as soon as I can.” He finally unlocks the car door, and she’s more than happy to get out and slam it behind her.

“Fine.”

“Yeah, fine.”

…

“So is your wife not a fan of softball?”

“My what?”

“Your wife, does she not like coming to games?” All he can do is laugh for a moment, pure disbelief at her question, and when he finally looks at her again, her brow still furrowed in confusion, he shakes his head with a huff.

“Is that like a funny question or something?” Just a little snap of annoyance behind her words, though he’s quick to respond, holding out his left hand in between them, his decidedly ringless left hand.

“A little bit considering there is no wife.” It’s the middle of the fourth inning from what he can tell, still plenty of time for them to be not allowed on the field, sitting in the back of Cherry’s car.

“Oh, but– was there one? I mean, Sarah’s mom?”

“Uh, no, she’s not in the picture, at all.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. But, uh, what about you? I mean– is Ellie’s– is your, uh–” She cuts off his floundering with a nudge of her shoulder against his, a tight smile on her lips.

“Not in the picture.”

“At all?”

“Never, doesn’t even know Ellie exists.”

“Shit, Cher, that had to have been hard.” She laughs, a clipped sound in the back of her throat as she slides her sunglasses back down onto her nose, keeping her gaze out on the field in front of them. He quickly does the math in his head, pretty sure that Ellie and Sarah are the same age, something heavy and hot settling in his chest when he realizes that she would have only been twenty-two when she had her daughter, just like him. It’s an aching fact, one that his mind starts to swim with, though her voice pulls him out of it quickly.

“It definitely wasn’t easy, but I’d like to think I’ve done alright.”

“I’ll say, it seems like every year there’s a new book of yours in the news for being a bestseller.” She turns to look at him at that, her eyebrows raised and her lips parted before settling into a slight smile.

“Have you read any of them?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me to.” His answer seems to stop her, her face falling behind the darkness of her sunglasses, though she’s quick to catch herself with a breathy humph before turning her eyes back on the field in the distance. He wishes he could tuck those words back in his throat, try that again if only to keep her eyes on him.

“Are your folks still in town?”

“Oh yeah, dinner every Sunday with them still.” She hums, a light sound that curls with her smile, though she still doesn’t look at him.

“That must be nice.”

“I think ma would throw a parade if she knew you were back in town.”

“Oh please.”

“I’m dead serious, Cher.” There, she looks at him again, her smile turning crooked as she nudges her shoulder against his, an easy moment that still makes his heart kick up in his chest.

“And Tommy’s still around? Miller’s Construction, right?” He must have a funny look on his face when she says that because she laughs again, something warm and flushed creeping into her cheeks that makes his mind go a little fritzed.

“I promise I’m not stalking you, I was just looking for someone to come fix some stuff at the new house. Sounds like you two have done well for yourselves.” His mind still hasn’t caught up, still such a strange feeling to have her here in the present, talking about these things in the present, all these normal, very grown up things.

“Uh, yes, yeah, we do alright. Tommy is still a fucking nuisance, but it’s good work. What’re you looking to get done?”

“I think my back porch is all rotted out, nearly put my foot through a plank the other day. Do you have any idea how much it would cost to redo the whole thing?”

“I’d have to come take a look, but I could redo it for you, no problem.” He has already decided how much it will cost. Nothing, not for her, though he knows if he told her that now she’d scoff and get someone else to do it who would accept payment. He’ll save that fact for after it’s finished.

“Alright, is there a number I can call to schedule an appointment?” Oh, oh, he’s not stupid enough to let this opportunity pass him by.

“Why don’t I, uh, give you my number? It’ll be easier that way.” He knows she knows what he’s doing, her lips pursing for a moment as if to consider it, but she still slides her phone out of her back pocket and hands it over to him. He has to think really hard about what his phone number is, typing it in with a small tremor in his hand that only gets worse when he gives her phone back to her with a barely there brush of their fingers.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Maybe, what’s the question?”

“Why’d you come back? I don’t know where you’ve been, Cher, but I can tell you that I never expected you to come back here.” Shit, he shouldn’t have asked that, because she’s not looking at him again, her chin tucking down as her mouth settles in a thin grimace.

“Honestly? I don’t know. We were in Chicago for the longest time, and then New York while I was working on my last two books. And it was great while it was great, you know? But it was just too much after a while, too much for Ellie, and too much for me.” He ducks his head down, trying to catch her gaze now that her sunglasses are pushed back up into her hair.

“So you made it to New York, huh?” That gets him a grin, her eyes crinkling up under her lashes at him.

“Yeah, the big leagues and all that shit.”

“How was it?”

“Lonely. I think I would have lost my mind if I didn’t have Ellie.” His heart twinges and then swells in his chest because he hates to hear that, and is also relieved to hear that, and then he hates himself for being relieved to hear that. That there wasn’t anyone else.

“For what it’s worth, Cherry, I’m real glad to see you back here again.” No, that didn’t come out quite right, and he has to stop himself from physically wincing when she gives him a furrowed look in response.

“I find that a little hard to believe, Joel.”

“Why?”

“Well, we didn’t exactly part on the best of terms, did we?” He feels a long sigh leave his lungs, and she’s already hopping out of the trunk and brushing her hands down the front of her shorts as if to shake the conversation off.

“I am sorry, Cher, I–”

“Don’t, Joel. Don’t do that.” She shakes her head hard at him, eyes fierce for a moment before she slips her sunglasses back into place.

“Well I am.”

“Well I don’t want you to be. There’s no need for it when that was such a long time ago.” He wants to say something else, anything, but the tightness in his throat keeps the words stuck and simmering somewhere in his chest. She doesn’t look at him again, murmuring something about the game ending and wanting to help Ellie pack up, and all he can do is dumbly agree, shutting the trunk of her car and walking back toward the field a few paces behind her. Always a few paces behind her, it seems.

…

Joel was full of shit. Something about fixing her car as soon as he could, something about it not taking too long. Yeah, bullshit. She has been sitting in the front office of the auto shop for the last three hours, trying and failing to get some writing done in her notebook amidst the seemingly ceaseless sounds of whirring drills, clanking and crashing metal, and the men in the garage cursing and carrying on amongst themselves. Though some of the sound has died down now that it’s just Joel working, the other men all clocking out at five o’clock. Meanwhile, he hasn’t even gotten to her car yet.

Everytime she glances into the garage, his legs are still sticking out from under a cream-colored mustang. When he does finally pop out from underneath the car, her hopes of getting out of the place soon are quickly dashed as someone pulls up to the gas pumps out front. She knows that car, a convertible in an obnoxious shade of turquoise that could only mean Maureen Henderson. Her daddy got her that car for her sixteenth birthday and she never stopped thinking she was hot shit for it ever since.

She gets up from her cracked vinyl chair in the office to stand at the windows, trying to get a better look at their interaction. Joel is in fine form, of course, leaning down close over the driver’s side door, all grins, all popping gum with his jaw as Maureen rests a perfectly french-tipped set of fingers on his bicep. He must say something really funny for her to toss her head back like that, her teased-out hair bouncing with her tittering laugh. Joel slips around the front of the car, and, really, she thinks, is it so necessary for him to pump Maureen’s gas for her? Can Maureen really not just pump her own gas like a normal person? All a bit outdated, if you ask her. Though Maureen seems perfectly pleased with the whole production, leaning across the passenger’s side and slipping a few folded up bills into the back pocket of Joel’s coveralls while he’s turned away to set the pump back in its holster. How nauseatingly sweet of Maureen, who’s rewarded with another grin and something that must be really fucking funny for her to laugh so loud before she peels away from the shop with one more waggle of her fingers at him. Joel, meanwhile, seems in no hurry to get back to work as he moseys back into the garage, counting the bills that Maureen just tucked into his pocket with a stupid smirk on his face. Yeah, she’s seen quite enough.

“Hey, so I’m just wondering, when you said this wasn’t going to take too long, did you know that you were full of shit? Or is Maureen just that distracting?” Her eyes nearly water when she steps into the garage from the smell of motor oil and burnt rubber, though she’s a little too pissed to worry about that as she walks over to where Joel is rummaging through a tool box next to the mustang.

“Aw, Cherry, don’t tell me you're jealous of little old Maureen.” She would like to smack his smile clean off his face, the only thing stopping her being the fact that she still needs him to fix her car.

“I’m not jealous, Joel. I have been sitting in that office all afternoon watching you do everything except fix my car and I would like to go home now.”

“So you’ve been watching me, huh?”

“Christ, you really are relentless, aren’t you?” She honestly can’t believe he’s already bounced back to his incessant teasing after their little blow up in his truck, poking his tongue into the side of his cheek and squinting at her as she huffs at him.

“Alright, Cher, you’ve waited long enough. I’ll take a look.” She follows close on his heels as he sidles over to her car, popping the hood and ducking his head under to look at the engine.

“Well?” Though she has no clue what he’s looking at, she still leans over the engine next to him, searching his face for any answers.

“Hmm, oh, here’s your problem.” He twists what looks like a loose knob down into the engine, shocking her with how quickly he stands back up with a satisfied smirk on his face.

“That– that’s it?”

“Yep, loose spark plug.”

“And you couldn’t have fixed that earlier on the side of the road?”

“No, I could have, but then you wouldn’t have come and kept me company with your death glare all afternoon.” He can barely get his words out around a laugh. But she is decidedly not laughing. It’s completely impulsive, and maybe childish, but it feels good to shove the flat of both her palms into his chest, making him stumble back against the side of the mustang parked next to her car. And since it felt so good the first time, she decides to do it again, this time with enough force for his laughs to die out with a grunted oof.

“You’re an ass, do you know that? A huge– fucking– ass–” Each word gets punctuated with another shove, though on the last one Joel wraps his hand around her wrists, collecting them both in a tight hold and only pulling her closer against his chest when she tries to yank away from him.

“Let go, Joel.” Their faces are so close to each other’s that she can smell the cinnamon on his breath from that Big Red gum he likes to chew, can even see the freckle tucked between his lashes underneath his right eye, the same freckle that’s been there since they were kids.

“No.”

“No?”

“No, I’m not gonna let go.”

“You’re a fucking child.”

“That the best you got, Cherry baby?”

“Do not call me that.”

“Or else what?” A beat, a blink, a moment for her heart to sink into her stomach and shoot straight up into her throat when they both lurch into the space between them. There’s nothing nice about the first one, in fact, it hurts a little with how hard they both press into it, her nose mashing up against his as their teeth scrape and clash with each other. They kiss ugly. They kiss angry. Both of them too stubborn to let the other one get away with anything, the moment he licks into her mouth, she tangles her fingers in the back of his hair and tugs hard, swallowing down the grunt that looses from his throat. Though her upper hand is short-lived when Joel drops both his palms down to her ass and squeezes hard, her whole body jolting in his hold and pressing closer to him. He’s probably getting grease all over her clothes, but she’s not too concerned with that as she keeps drawing low little groans out of him every time she swipes her tongue against his.

“Wait, Cher– shit, wait– I can’t– I don’t–” She finally pulls back when he keeps mumbling, and suddenly the reality of the situation comes plummeting down on her, starting to panic when it seems like Joel has decided this was all a big mistake.

“What, what is it?”

“I want to do this right with you– your– you should have a nice first time and–”

“Wait, what?” Joel’s eyes get wide and round, his hands dropping down by his sides from where they had been holding her hips when she takes a step back from him.

“Well, I, uh– you– you’re–”

“Joel, have you just assumed that I’m a virgin?” He winces at the word like it’s a curse, and she finally has to laugh at how ridiculous this is.

“Does that mean you’re not?”

“Just shut up, Joel.” With that, she reaches forward for his waist where the sleeves of his coveralls are tied, making quick work of the knot and rucking his pants the rest of the way down as she kneels in front of him. She tucks her fingers into the band of his boxers, unable to help her grin when she feels his stomach tense against her knuckles.

“Can I?”

“Fuck, yeah, yes– you can do whatever you want, Cherry.” She likes him like this, with his throat bobbing and a crack in his voice pitching his words up an octave, his eyes wide and watching as she tugs his boxers down. And oh, she likes him like this too. Pretty boy who’s certainly pretty all over. The narrow tanness of his hips tapers into a dark thatch of curls, and well, there’s no two ways about it, he’s big, already hard, the tip flushed a perfect pink. Only a little intimidating, but judging by the sound he makes when she suckles the head of him into her mouth, she has it under control.

“Oh my god– fuck, okay, fuck– you– you’re good at that– Jesus.” There’s a bit too much of him to take it all into her mouth, though she does her best to bob her head down his length, her hand wrapping around what she can’t quite reach as she laps at the vein running along the underside of his cock. A fleeting thought in the back of her mind, this was not how she imagined her day going, not in any universe. But something has snapped, something that cannot be stitched back together. And now, all she feels is an aching want, pulling taut in her stomach, pulling her to him. Want, want, want. She’s never wanted something so bad in her life, she thinks. Not very ladylike to want like this, to gag with it, to dribble spit around it, to see how much more she can take just to coax another broken moan out of his chest, her palms splayed out on his hips to keep him pinned still beneath all her want. But what she didn’t consider is that he wants it just as bad and big as she does, hooking his hand around the back of her neck to pull her off of him and hoist her onto her feet, chasing after the taste of himself on her tongue as he turns them around to press her up against the side of the car.

“That was gonna be over too fucking soon if I let you keep doing that.” His hands get a little greedy, a little desperate, fumbling to get her t-shirt off before tugging her bra up and overhead without even unclasping it, ducking his head down to let his teeth scrape and nip at the newly exposed skin. He pauses only for a moment, pulling back, his parted lips shiny and blushing and his eyes heavy as he takes her in. She can’t help but drag her hand back through his hair, something tight settling in her chest when he absent-mindedly nudges his cheek closer into the cup of her palm.

“You’re something else, Cherry.” She doesn’t have any time to ask him just what he means by that, his lips already finding hers again, a small gasp in the back of her throat at the feeling of her nipples dragging against the fabric of his wife beater. And then it’s an awkward, slow shuffle, given that his coveralls and boxers are still pooled and pulled around his ankles, around to the front of the car, his hands finding the backs of her thighs to coax her up and onto the hood. From there his palms start to wander, one coming to cup the side of her neck before slipping down to her breast, the boyish squeeze he leaves there making her laugh, though the sound dies fast when his other hand rests heavy at the waistband of her shorts, thumbing at the button.

“Can I touch you, Cher?” It’s entirely too earnest, the way he’s looking at her from beneath the thick fan of his lashes, a small crease between his brows. And she’s a little afraid of how her want might skitter up her throat, so instead of saying anything, she simply pulls him in by the nape of his neck for another kiss as her other hand bats his away to undo her shorts. Mercifully, it’s enough of an answer for Joel, his hand replacing hers and dipping down beneath the fabric of her panties, the broadness of his palm cupping her cunt and grinding up into her heat in a way that makes her gasp against his mouth.

Annoyingly, he’s halfway decent at it, swiping his fingers through her cunt in a harsh rub, though she tenses up when he tries to immediately dip two of his thick fingers into her clenching entrance.

“Jesus Christ, warm me up a little first, why don’t you?” He looks genuinely perplexed by her exclamation, his hand stilling beneath the fabric of her panties as his brow crumples in reaction.

“What did I do wrong?” She tugs lightly at the hair at his nape, a light laugh leaving her lips when he lets out a huff like an impatient boy.

“You’re a bit harsh, Joel.”

“Well, I’ve never had any complaints before.” Said with a roll of his eyes and his hand still down her pants so really, she has a hard time taking him seriously.

“Well, I’m complaining. Just– gentler, here.” She clasps her fingers around his wrist to pull his hand away, giving her room to shimmy her shorts and panties further down over the curve of her ass, the way Joel’s eyes instantly fall to where her legs have now splayed open a bit wider not getting lost on her. She fits her palm to the back of his hand, guiding it back to her cunt, her fingers pressing against the backs of his to direct a firm, swirling pressure to her clit. Her head tilts back on her neck as the pleasure settles over her slow and smooth, continuing to guide Joel’s hand with her own.

“Just like that, s’perfect.”

“Like that?” He says it so quietly, so uncharacteristically small that her attention snaps back onto him. His eyes are glued to where her hand is still moving his, lips parted, a look that borders on wonder and clear concentration, and suddenly, she can’t take her own gaze away from the sight, her head tilting on her shoulder as her hand falls away from his to let him do it on his own.

“Yeah, Joel, feels really good like that. You can– you can add a finger now.” When he does, much slower, much softer, her eyes scrunch shut with a small curse and a sigh, and she finds herself leaning back on her elbows over the hood of the car, her whole body splayed out before him. Joel follows her slow fall, keeping a steady rhythm with his hand as he curls over her, his mouth resting hot and open between her breasts before he tilts his head to the side to take the peak of one of her nipples into his mouth.

“That feel good, Cher?”

“Yes, keep doing that, please. I– I’m gonna get there just like this.” Miracle, he listens, only adding another finger when she asks him for it, fucking her with his hand just how she wants him to. Miracle, she can’t tear her eyes away from his, the way he seems to be watching her face for every tell, every sigh and every fall. And miracle, she comes undone for him slowly, a cry catching in her throat when it finally hits her, the easiest unraveling. He only stops when she whines for him to, tugging his hand away and pulling him down for a kiss that’s more just two open mouths laying over each other than anything else.

“Can we? Do you want to?”

“Yes, I want to.”

“Condom?”

“Birth control.”

“Gotta love women’s lib.”

“Just don’t tell my mom.”

“Please don’t talk about your mom right now, Cher.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, just come here.” He struggles a bit to tug her shorts and panties off of her feet, the fabric getting caught on her sneakers, though when he’s finally successful it’s the easiest thing for his hips to slot with hers, his hands curling around the backs of her knees to hitch her legs around his waist. Her arms settle loosely around his shoulders, laying back and bringing him with her as he presses his cock against her swollen cunt. A quick snarl of pain that pleasure snaps and smacks after when drives into her with one languid stroke, both of them letting out stuttered sighs when his hips press against hers. All of that want flickering up and down her spine as he starts to fuck into her, spreading her open again and again.

“S’a fucking dream, you’re a fucking dream.” She almost wants to laugh at the breathless murmuring of his words, because truthfully she doesn’t think anything has ever felt this real. Her body fitting around his, the way her heart is threatening to beat a break in her ribs, the way her nails can drag down the sliding wings of his shoulder blades, and the incessant, aching heat of him throbbing so deep inside her that she thinks she’ll still feel that hurt tomorrow. She hopes that she will.

“Joel, look at me, please.” She has to tug on his hair to coax his face out of the hollow of her throat and suddenly that want is dangerous. Looking into the crumpled pleasure painted across his face, watery eyes and slack jaw, and that want becomes dangerous because that want becomes something more.

She can feel her slick dripping down her thighs, the sound of skin meeting skin mixing with the obscene slip of it, only a fleeting worry about making a mess of the car, though that flits away when Joel drags his fingers back over her clit a little harder, a little greedier.

“Just want one more, Cher, please.” She likes please on his tongue. Please pushes her right over the edge. A little harder this time, a little more ragged, furling up tight and taut around him before everything melts down with a whine of his name. He’s still saying please like a prayer when he comes, and all she can do is sigh with the warmth spreading inside of her. Inhale, exhale, her ribs expanding as his contract, a careful, quiet dance as they both come down, still pressed close, lips suggesting grazes.

“Do you, uh, want to come up to my apartment?” Want says yes, a whisper her ears prick to under the obvious shout of no. Want says yes, over and over.

“Yeah, okay.”

....................................

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller story #joel miller series #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #joel miller au

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unreversedumbrella · 6 months

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sometimes i wonder if the writers of Impulse 1995 were affected in anyway by others people's handling of thad...

like imagine you write this villain kid and you make him awfull in everyway. you make it so he was bred to hate. made in a lab to hate. but then, for a moment, you also give him love. and he changes. he desires that love now. but he still hates. and he runs away, bc for now the hate is bigger than the love. and that makes him despair. and this is very clearly just the beggining. he will return. but the series is cancelled

he returns years later, writen by someone else. he returns like there was never any love. he's worse now. and then he gets killed

#thaddeus thawne #dc inertia

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honeesucker · 1 year

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One -

Pairing: ProHero!DynaMight | Katsuki Bakugo x Puppygirl!Reader

Word count: 3,331

Series Content Warnings: Little bit of a slow start... Graphic Depictions of Past Abuse & Trauma Response | Profuse Usage of Pet Names / All-around Softness | Bakugo Experienced Work-Related Trauma (causing near deafness, being put on leave from the agency, PTSD) | Eventual smut™ (will be tagged in individual chapters - to include but not limited to KiriBaku, HybridxHybrid, Hybrid heat trope, sex toy usage).

*Not proofread.

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Katsuki Bakugo wasn’t an undisciplined person in any way and anyone who had ever spent more than five minutes with the man would know it, back at UA his classmates knew it. His attitude and showmanship justifiable by his actions: hard work, determination to be the best at anything, unwavering confidence. So, it was no surprise that when he was presented with something that made him nervous, left him restless in bed having only gotten around five hours of solid sleep (unacceptable), that he dove head-first into internet research into hybrids, into the rescue facility itself – any reliable informative source Katsuki could get his hands on... he devoured all with a ravenous mind.

He learned that there is a largely biological difference between hybrids and those with an animal quirk. He learned that there are hybrids of different biological levels – some he learned were bred or trained to lean more into their animal natures, while others acted similarly to those with animal quirks (largely human with animal likeness or simple qualities) – the bigger difference being they were still highly susceptible to the whims of their animal DNA (i.e., still driven by instinct, still at the mercy of their biological clocks as present in their hybrid DNA in regard to migratory urges, mating patterns... things of a more engrained nature). He knew now that something he needed to consider was what would be best for him – a hybrid that, like TetsuTetsu was fiercely like his hybrid side but if you didn’t notice the ears and tail at first would just mistake him for a high-strung human, or one that while appearing mostly human would be more aligned with their animal side internally – Katsuki decided he’d wait and see what was suggested at the meeting he had set for later in the evening at the rescue facility. He read up on the efforts of the facility and was nothing less than impressed by their work to rescue, rehabilitate and facilitate safe adoption for their hybrids, but also all of their compiled free resources to learn more about anything one could think of in regards to hybrids, as well as offering in-person classes to be exposed further to important topics and nuances of hybrid life and ownership – classes, Katsuki noted, he would have to take before being chosen to take home a hybrid.

The rest of the morning was a blur of Katsuki half in, half out of consciousness due to his lack of sleep. He moved around the house way too fatigued but managed to make a simple stir-fry in the morning just to get something into his body, and later giving in to his needs and taking a two-hour nap before waking up to shower, and get ready for the first meeting at the rescue facility to get the process started... and though he held a lot of uncertainty he was also looking forward to something like this – something that might help him not feel so alone.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Katsuki was just half-watching a street food documentary series when he heard his phone ping! with a message notification.

3:37 P.M. [Shitty Hair] Hey dude! TetsuTetsu and I are on our way to pick you up... he wanted to come and see some of his friends.

3:39 P.M. [Blasty Boy] Whatever as long as the rockhead doesn’t drool on me.

3:45 P.M. [Shitty Hair] Awe are you wanting to make a good first impression Bakubro? So cute~

Katsuki slammed his phone down, a burning pink tinge to the tips of his ears as he grumbled to himself at the last message.

He just didn’t want to look dirty for the interview.

Another hour had passed before Kirishima finally texted that he was down in front of Katsuki’s building waiting for him, which prompted the blonde to thumb through the folder he had with all the requested documents, glancing at each page for the fifth time again before deciding he hadn’t forgotten anything. He threw on a well-worn leather jacket over his casual outfit and stepped into his boots, taking a final look behind him before stuffing his wallet into his pocket where his phone already sat, and heading out the door with a final click of the automatic door lock.

In the elevator his body felt like a can of compressed air thrown into a fire – ready to burst – but he just took in slow breaths (agency sanctioned therapy) and as he reached the lobby and made his way out, he walked toward the dark sportscar that awaited him, seeing the back window rolled halfway down with TetsuTetsu’s excited face glancing around at the few people on the street until he saw Katsuki.

“Hey, heeeey! Bakugo!” TetsuTetsu was shouting out the window at the man’s approach and Bakugo simply rolled his eyes at the annoying display. Opening the door and sliding into the front passenger seat just as TetsuTetsu was shouting another round of greetings out the window at him.

“Shut up ya damn brick head!” Bakugo growled out, “don’t you have a damn shred of self-control?”

“Plenty!” TetsuTetsu replied, sitting back against the seat with an excited bounce, nearly jumping out of his skin to see Bakugo... even if he just saw him last week.

“Tch,” Bakugo scowled, but Kirishima picked up on the slight quirk to the corner of his friend's lips as he pulled the seatbelt across his chest. “Dumbass acting like he hasn’t seen me in years.”

“Ready to go, dude?” Kirishima beamed at his friends who only answered with a quiet grunt. The drive to the facility was about 45 minutes from Katsuki’s apartment, and he took notice of how the further they drove the scenery changed so drastically for such a short distance. Larger skyscrapers and bustling paved streets giving way to more rural, residential areas until he saw the large facility come into view. Katsuki had been in this area before but never noticed the expansive property even one time. It was partially hidden behind rows of trees, and there was a long, looping driveway to reach the front of the facility.

“TetsuTetsu and I come here to volunteer a lot,” Kirishima finally broke the silence from the ride, “he likes to come and see some of his friends and socialize, and I help as an acting liaison since a lot of hero work does include rescuing hybrids either from disaster zones, or worse situations.”

“I never knew that,” Katsuki added, though he had his share of hybrid rescue situations, he never once contemplated where they went after they were taken away – he wondered if they all came to a safe place like what was before him. “Also never knew that you had so much damn free time on your hands to come play around with puppies and shit...” Katsuki walked past the doors as they parted automatically, Kirishima laughed, walking behind him with a shit-eating grin knowing his friends was playing his emotions off cooler than he was feeling. Knowing what he knew of his friend, he was more nervous than anything and that made Kirishima hopeful for Bakugo’s recovery. Whatever that future held, he was certain, as he watched his friend’s back while he walked toward the center desk where a staff member was waiting to greet them, that he wouldn’t be alone and everything would be okay.

Knowing Bakugo, he knew it wouldn’t be an easy process – but he could see the future becoming a brighter shade with each step.

“Ah, welcome back Red Riot!” The staff member beamed excitedly, “and welcome Mr. DynaMight!” She added, “and our little TetsuTetsu! Look how big you’ve gotten!” TetsuTetsu had a smile that took over his whole face as he puffed out his chest at the praise, allowing the woman to give a scratch at the top of his head between his tall ears.

“Alright Bakugo, you’re in good hands with Hina! TetsuTetsu and I are going to be in the common area, we’ll probably see you later once you’re given the tour. Text me if you need anything!” Kirishima was being dragged off by TetsuTetsu who was excitedly going on about who he wanted to see, his silver tail wagging so fast it blurred behind him. Hina got Bakugo’s attention, walking away to lead him toward the meeting room where he was going to be interviewed by the director, go over the paperwork and make copies of the documents he brought, thankful that this was all laid out in the call when he made the appointment – Bakugo liked to be as prepared as possible walking into new situations.

Hina had dismissed herself as she showed Bakugo where he could grab a snack or coffee, tea, water – she offered him everything even as he declined, certain anything that would go into him at this moment would come right back out. He was told the director was running a bit late but should be with him in about ten minutes. He was fine to have the room to himself to calm down, he could feel his palms slickening the more anxious he got and the last thing he wanted to do was blast the damn director with a handshake.

Maybe he did want that tea.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Across the facility in the common room Kirishima was crowded by his normal little friends, excitedly saying hello and telling him about their recent activities since his last visit. His eyes scanned for TetsuTetsu he noticed was frozen to the spot where in stood just in the doorway that led out to the garden. He followed the hybrid’s gaze to a small puppy hybrid curled up underneath a tree bathed in speckled sunlight. Kirishima watched as TetsuTetsu walked out into the garden with tentative steps and saw the puppy hybrid’s wide eyes shoot up toward him.

What a beautiful little creature.

He took in how small you were compared to most other hybrids he’s met so far (aside from the very smallest types), noting that you would definitely only come up to just under his chest, similarly compared to Bakugo a few inches higher on him at the center of his chest - maybe. Your ears were tall points atop your head, and the large, fluffy tail behind you started to give slow thumps as you watched TetsuTetsu approach. Kirishima observed his hybrid sit and pull you into his lap, rubbing his cheek atop your head and watching as your body shook a little, light catching a glistening on your cheek just before it was thumbed away. You shook your head, palming away the tears before giving a beaming smile up at TetsuTetsu whose tail was wagging wildly looking down at you, but Kirishima could see it.

The way the smile didn’t reach your eyes.

He spent more time with the hybrids gathered in the common room, always keeping an eye on his hybrid and the new little companion. Kirishima was soon being pulled multiple ways by hybrids and staff alike to help where it was needed getting lost in the bustle of what normally came with spending time at the hybrid facility – work. It was a brief moment when his eyes darted back out into the garden where he didn’t see you or TetsuTetsu that Kirishima’s whole body went cold with nerves before he settled himself, knowing that even if you both wandered the place you were in was safe. He just always felt better having eyes on TetsuTetsu since he brought him home. It was when he heard a familiar laugh that he noticed you both sitting in front of a T.V. watching Pro Hero fights, TetsuTetsu exclaiming loudly at each incredible move, and you curled up into TetsuTetsu’s lap looking so contented just to share space with someone. Kirishima decided to walk over and introduce himself, but with the way he noticed your eyes always darting around, watching the way your body jumped – just slightly – at each louder than normal noise... he knew he had to approach you carefully than most.

“Hey buddy,” Kirishima called out, lowering his normal boisterous tone to a gentler level, “what’cha watching?”

“Ah Eijiro! Look, look, look!” TetsuTetsu almost threw you out of his lap if he didn’t have an arm hooked around your body holding you to him. “It’s an old Fourth Kind fight!” TetsuTetsu’s tail was whipping behind him with a furious thump seeing the fight. You were leant against his chest with your cheek squished by his shoulder as your eyes studied the huge red-headed Pro standing nearby. Kirishima gave you a bright smile but noticed the way your eyes widened, he wondered if it was the sharp teeth or just being noticed by someone new, he kept his eyes on you with a kind expression on his face as he got TetsuTetsu’s attention back, “Hey bud – who’s your little friend?”

“Ah!” TetsuTetsu tightened his grip on you as he turned his body slightly to show more of you. “This is Tiny!” Kirishima knelt down on the floor, squatting with his butt against his legs to be less of an impending sight to you.

“Tiny huh? Is that really your name?” Kirishima kept the smile on his face, kept his tone gentle and noticed the way you shook your head slowly, but then shrugged – TetsuTetsu popping back into the conversation with a quick, “I call her Tiny because she is! Also, because she said she didn’t have one...” TetsuTetsu trailed off, attention being piqued again by the Pro Hero fight on the T.V. but Kirishima and you were having a staring contest, your ears and cheeks dusted a light pink as you rested your chin on TetsuTetsu’s shoulder.

“If it’s okay to ask,” Kirishima wanted to grab you from his hybrid and curl you up in his arms himself with how cute you looked at the moment, but knew he had to swallow down those feelings. “You don’t have a name?”

“Mm,” you shrugged, “not one I care to have.”

“Have you ever thought about choosing one for yourself?” Kirishima tested the waters, and it seemed you relaxed more around him now than when he first walked over, but you still stole tentative glances at TetsuTetsu for reassurance.

You slowly shook your head, “not really – not if everyone is gonna call me something different anyway.”

The way you said that made Kirishima’s blood turn, but he didn’t let it affect his interaction with you, opting to keep the smile and calm demeanor going, “What do you like to be called most?” Kirishima saw you falter for a moment, probably never having been asked that question before.

“I like when Tetsu calls me Tiny,” the warm smile lit up your face so beautifully, “and almost everyone else I know just calls me Puppy because... I’m a puppy, or really lots of other names too...” your voice got softer a trailed off at the end. Kirishima could see something brewing behind your eyes but didn’t push it further as you rubbed behind your neck a little nervously.

“Is it okay for me to call you eith-” Kirishima could get his full sentence out before you just grinned widely and nodded your head.

“M’okay with anything if it isn’t mean,” you say softly, and Kirishima thinks his heart is going to explode.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Across the facility at the tail end of the interview Bakugo thought his heard was going to explode just the same.

“Well, Mr. Bakugo I’m thoroughly impressed with how you’ve answered my questions, and asked your own,” the facility director was thumbing through her own notes and the documents Bakugo had brought with him ensuring all was in order. “I’ve never had an adoption prospect be as informed and prepared as you’ve made yourself which is wholly impressive and says so much about how you’d go into owning a hybrid – truly impressed,” the woman was nodding and repeating herself but Bakugo wasn’t hearing a definitive yes to moving forward so he kept waiting with bated breath. “I’d like to take you for a tour of our facility and tell you more about our efforts, and what you can expect moving forward in this program, and we can meet some of the hybrids who are probably out wandering in the common room at this time as well.” Bakugo simply nodded in a daze, heart rate starting to slow back to a normal pace as he started to collect himself, following the director out of the meeting room and into a long stretch of hallway as she went on about the facilities history and all of what they offer for the hybrids in their care – all information Bakugo had read up on but hearing it as he toured the grounds was still enlightening.

Upon reaching a more open area that the director called the common room he took in the mild bustle of the room, hybrids of all types wandering, lounging and laughing with each other and staff alike.

“So, this is our common area where a lot of the hybrids who are suited for group environments come to socialize and spend their time,” the director drew Bakugo’s attention to the gorgeous garden they had, as well as a small food garden run by some of the facilities bunny hybrids who also helped out in the kitchen – they were a little skittish but super still super kind to show Bakugo around their garden. He also met a few wolf hybrids like TetsuTetsu, a cougar, two cats and a koi fish hybrid lounging in a large, open clearwater pond on the far end of the garden but what really caught Bakugo’s attention was on the other side of the garden in a separate part of the common room – more hybrids were lounging around at tables, but in front of a T.V. where old Pro Hero fight tapes were playing he saw Kirishima’s too large body sunk into a bean bag chair with TetsuTetsu curled up against his side, with a smaller form squished between them, mostly on Kirishima’s chest, nuzzled into his neck.

“Oh - that’s a sight that makes me happy,” the director sighed, sharing the same sight Bakugo was taking in. “That’s our newest hybrid, though she originally came to us just a short while before TetsuTetsu did she was also adopted out shortly after Mr. Kirishima took our TetsuTetsu in, but she’s had a hard time being placed with the right person – she's been surrendered back to us three time in the last year – she's had a rough go of it but always ends up seeking out the right people it seems.” Bakugo was drawn in to the three sleeping forms, walking closer until he was just a foot or so away. TetsuTetsu was snuggled into Kirishima’s side, mouth hanging open with the drool of a deep sleep. Kirishima was snoring lightly and had a hand brought up to wrap around the smaller form laying atop him. When his eyes laid on you, a little puppy hybrid with soft ears, tall, little triangles even as you slept, a big fluffy tail and an unnerving amount of old healed scars on the exposed skin he could see. Your face looked so peaceful, lashes shadowing on your cheeks, eyebrows drawn together in your sleep as if your dream bothered you, even a little kick of your leg across Kirishima’s stomach as you shifted in your sleep.

Something in Bakugo reached out from inside of him, his mind or his heart he couldn’t tell the difference – all he knew was that this feeling was one he couldn’t easily shake. He didn’t know if it was because you just looked like you needed protecting, or because the director said you were returned three times and he’s never turned down a challenge, but Bakugo now had his mark set on you – you are who he wanted to know more about, to bring home and keep safe, and he would jump through any hoops to make that happen.

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the--highlanders · 13 days

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I would be interested in hearing about how Jamie influenced the Doctor's moral code

I do want to preface this by saying that one's companions absolutely play a massive role in influencing the doctor's development and morality. barbara probably more than anyone. one as we first meet him in an unearthly child is not the same as one in the tenth planet, or two going forward. he's already come a long way by that point.

that being said, two in power of the daleks and the highlanders is. honestly a lot more morally grey than he is later in his run, or compared to later incarnations. he does very little to reassure ben and polly post-regeneration, picks up the examiner's badge with not a lot of outward concern for the man who's just died, runs around in the highlanders antagonising the people he doesn't like without ever actually specifying whose side he's on. he bashes perkins' head into a table until he admits he has a headache. there's a real sense that he's doing everything he does less because he wants to do the right thing, and more because it's entertaining to him. his sense of right and wrong is far more secondary than it will be in the future.

some of his development is driven by himself, and likely by his other companions - 'there are some corners of the universe which have bred the most terrible things' comes before he's had much of a chance to get to know jamie, let alone have jamie's sense of morality rub off on him. but as the doctor (and the audience) get to know jamie, his moral code starts looking an awful lot like the one the doctor will come to adopt

the first thing about jamie is that while he meets the doctor in the aftermath of a war, while the first time we see him he's holding a knife to two's throat - he's not a soldier. he's a musician. he's spent nearly a year as (more or less) a non-combatant marching with an army. and that shows in the way he acts, because while physically he's a capable fighter, and happy to show that when he needs to, he is fundamentally not a killer. he'll destroy robots, but he won't kill humans or humanoid aliens. he duels with trask, but knocks him off the ship rather than finishing him off. he refuses to fight the gond with a weapon. even when it's to his detriment or puts other people in danger, like him being initially unable to shoot the zombie in the age of ambition.

maybe most tellingly, in the novelisation of the abominable snowmen, he's the one to step in and stop the monks from killing the abbot. he steps in front of the abbot, 'ignoring the weapon' pointed at him, and gets the monks to stand down by telling them 'we've had enough killing'. which is something it's very easy to imagine the doctor doing.

he also ends up being the one to push the doctor into investigating, like in enemy of the world, or putting his foot down and insisting they should do the right thing, like in evil of the daleks where rescues victoria even when two tells him not to. in fact, it's predictable enough that he will do this that two hinges the start of the human factor experiment on the fact that he can tell jamie not to do the right thing and help a complete stranger, and jamie will defy him and do it anyway. more than that, two's whole sub-plan to create 'good' daleks depends on his belief that jamie embodies the best of humanity. at the beginning of series 5, he's already recognised jamie's moral code as something that defines him and that can be depended on.

so jamie is someone who prefers to avoid (lethal) force if he can, and who will stick his neck out to help people when he doesn't have to or when even people he cares deeply for say he shouldn't. which isn't particularly true of two at the beginning of his run, but which starts to become true from s5 onwards, and which later incarnations will cleave to.

but the really telling thing is - we very rarely see jamie truly, properly hate someone. he butts heads with villains (vaughn in the invasion, for instance), and disapproves of people who don't live up to his standards or expectations (william wallace in on a pedestal being childish, irresponsible, and careless with other people; two in evil of the daleks for, again, being careless with other people and appearing to side with the daleks). but there's really only two times on-screen where he can't stand someone. one of these is evans in the web of fear, who really just wants to escape and save himself, rather than help everyone else. he's a coward, and jamie calls him out on it with disgust. but most of all, he hates bennik in enemy of the world. the interrogation scene is probably the angriest we ever see him. he hates bennik's callousness, actively threatens him, and says - interestingly - that he 'must have been a nasty little boy'. he's seething through that whole scene.

so the two characteristics that jamie seems to find completely unbearable are - cowardice, and cruelty. and those are the two major tenets of the 'oath' that goes along with the doctor's identity and mission. 'never be cruel, and never be cowardly'.

he's not solely responsible for the person the doctor becomes and the way they end up approaching the universe - those wheels were set in motion long before he arrived, and the doctor themselves provides a lot of the impetus. but it's interesting that jamie arrives just after the doctor's first regeneration, at a time where he seems to be searching for who he is and who he will be - and there's jamie to set a standard, and hold two to it.

#second doctor #replies #anonymous #i am SO sorry this has taken so long rip #it just took me a while to sit down and write all this out #but i'm posting it today in honour of the absolute win we've had today

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ohfugecannada · 3 months

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Groot’s many backstories

So earlier I saw this post by @alastorgould where he over some of the many versions of Rocket’s backstories, eventually writing his own take on it that combined elements of all of them. It’s a pretty good summary of Rocket’s past and it’s many incarnations in the comics, cartoons and MCU etc and I highly recommend you check it out along with his rocket and halfworld related art/fics.

Anyway, It inspired to make my own post going over some of the backstories/incarnations of my personal favourite gotg character: Groot. Because A) as mentioned, he’s my fave, and imo one of the more underrated Guardians members out of the core 5, and B) Groot actually has quite a few takes on his backstory already through not only multiple retcons in the 616 comics continuity but also through several multi-media adaptations of the Guardians of the Galaxy franchise. And I thought it would be fun to share some of them with you all.

Obviously, this isn’t gonna cover every single piece of media Groot has been in/has had his backstory mentioned etc. But I did my research and tried my best to cover a good chunk of the most notable continuities and adaptations.

Also, I haven’t read the entirety of every comic Groot is in ever (I.E. the latest gotg Grootfall/Grootrise story arc) so forgive me if I get a few details wrong. If there are any die hard gotg/Groot comic readers out there, feel free to politely and respectfully correct me on a few things.

The Comics

In the main marvel 616 comics there have been at least 3 different versions of Groot’s backstory and origins. 4 if you count his very first incarnation…

Tales to astonish #13 (+ other King Groot appearances)

King Groot is the giant tree like ruler of Planet-X, and an alien invader who lands on earth to kidnap the humans from a small town in order to take them back to his home planet and experiment on them. Conventional weapons used by the towns military don’t work as this groot is immune to fire and explosives. But thanks to the quick thinking of protagonist human scientist Leslie Evens, king groot is taken down by genetically bred super termites. He seemingly dies in this story but later makes appearances in comics like the Howling Commandos, aiding the team. Most commonly being seen as an inhabitant of Monster Isle. There was a time where it was thought the groot on the guardians of the galaxy was the same groot as king groot (mainly the annihilation: conquest series), but this was later retconned as a different Groot impersonating King Groot. Which brings us to…

Guardians of the Galaxy #14 (2013)/Annihilators #1 and 2 (2012)

Groot was a flora colossus sapling who along with his fellow saplings (also all called groot) were looked after by a group of elder flora colossus called the Arbor Masters. This groot was different from the others as he often brefirended the maintenance mammals; small intelligent mammal like beings who most other flora colossus looked down on as inferior. One day, another group of flora colossai were bulling a squirrel-like maintenance mammal and groot steps in to defend it. After one of the more violent flora colossus nearly kills the mammal, groot snaps and tears the other colossus apart. Presumably killing him. This catches the attention of the Arbor masters, who then have groot banished from the planet via a space ship.

This groot would later go on to impersonate king Groot and join the team that would become the Guardians of the galaxy, in Annihilation Conquest: Starlord #1, where he’d first meet his teammate and future bff Rocket Raccoon. The way he was written in annihilation conquest made it seem like he was the same character as King Groot, but this was later retconned in Annihilators #1 and 2 as well as Guardians of the Galaxy #14.

Groot vol.1 (2015)

My personal favourite comic origin for groot. (Also literally the best version of Groot in any media ever dont @ me)

Groot is born on Planet X, where the flora colossus are towering giants who regularly kidnap beings from other planets to preform experiments on them. Groot is disturbed and appalled by the actions of his people but feels powerless to do anything… until one night where he discovers a little human girl, Hannah, being held prisoner in one of the holding pods and decides to help her escape.

After teleporting Hannah away back to Earth, Groot remains behind and destroys the teleportation pad, presumably cutting the flora colossus off from earth, and he is banished by his elders. Groot then wanders the universe for a while, taking in all its wonders and sights, before being thrown in a kree prison where he meets Rocket for the first time. Rocket can’t understand Groot at first, but over the course of months sharing a cell with him, does. After this the two form a fast friendship and break out of prison, becoming bounty hunters/criminals and eventually joining the Guardians.

Groot vol.2 (2023)

One of the most recent and drastically different origins presented in the comics so far.

In this miniseries, Planet-X is a lush forest covered planet and the flora colossus, unlike the other comic origins, are a benevolent and peaceful race of sentient plants ruled over by a giant matriarch tree called Granopy. She looks after and tells stories to a child groot and his two friends Tweeg and Gleef.

One day their forest gets burnt by a gang of mercenaries known as The Spoilers, led by an evil Flora colossus named Agz, and the three get kidnapped. But are freed by a young Mar-vel. Together the four of them, along with an Alpha Centurion hunter called Yondar, fight against the Spoilers and save Planet X. As of writing this, the Grootfall/grootrise arc, which references this miniseries, has only just wrapped up. So It’s not clear if this story is supposed to be a prequel to the 2015 Groot origin or if it’s a full on retcon of it. (Im gonna assume the latter, given how different Flora Colossai are in this compared to the previous origins. Unless Flora Collossus society/planet X as a whole really went down hill after Groot grew up, somehow going from the peaceful forest utopia we see in vol. 2 to the desolate wasteland ruled by an evil king groot in tales to astonish/groot number 6 but I digress) so it’s up in the air for now if/how they connect to each-other…

Origins in other media

As a Marvel multi-media franchise, the Guardians of the Galaxy, and by extension Groot, have had a number of different adaptations and interpretations across various non-comic book mediums including movies, games, tv shows etc. so let’s take a look at four of the most famous ones.

MCU

Weirdly enough, despite this version of Groot (and his son Groot ii aka baby groot) being the most widely known by general audiences thanks to the popularity of the MCU, MCU Groot is the most mysterious when it comes to his origin story. We never get any implications or mentions of it in the entire gotg franchise (outside of a mention of Planet X in the nova police lineup scene in vol.1). The closest we get is an idea James Gunn had planned for a short film about how Groot and Rocket met and a few very brief mentions about it in interviews. In the tweet about the short film idea, James explains Groot was caged up at an intergalactic zoo housing exotic alien creatures and was treated like an animal. Until a worker at the zoo, a robot/cyborg named Tibus Lark, became attached to Groot and helped him escape, becoming his closest friend. Until they found themselves in a hole/prison where Lark and groot would meet Rocket. Being mortally injured, Tibus would explain his and Groot’s story to Rocket before entrusting Groot with Rocket and dying. Rocket would then use the robotic parts of Lark’s body to build his big gun seen in the first gotg and break out of the pit with Groot. Beginning their criminal partnership and (dysfunctional) friendship.

Gotg Disney XD cartoon season 1

In the Disney XD cartoon, Groot grew up on an idyllic and serene Planet X ruled by his father(?), both coming from a long line of flora colossus spanning billions of years who, along with all life on Planet X, all grew from an object known as the world pod. A source of power that exists within groot. Shortly after a day of battle training with his father, the Kree and their leader Ronan invade the planet to mine it of its resources. Dispute the protest of its natives, the planet is burnt to ashes, leaving groot the lone survivor. He’s then taken by the kree and experimented on, along with other kidnapped Earth animals. This is where he meets a newly anthro-ified Rocket, and the two break out together and eventually join the guardians.

Gotg Telltale Game

Like the MCU version, we unfortunately don’t get a look into his backstory, but what we do know from the alternate story path where Rocket stays with Quill and Groot goes with Mantis when the team break up is he is the last of his kind and empathises with mantis greatly because of it.

Gotg Eidos Game

Through conversations with Groot (with Rocket, and later in the game Mantis, translating for Quill), and a few parts of rocket’s conversations, we learn that Groot’s father was the king of Taluhnia (the original native name of Planet X) as well as the other branch worlds. Groot himself wanted to be a forest caretaker so he could care for the plants of Taluhina. In contrast, his father and the arbor masters were corrupt and favoured the needs of the few over the many, and enslaved the sapient animals on Taluhnia. With some saplings even hurting these mammals for fun. Groot however, preferred thier company over the others of his kind due to how nice and smart they were, comparing them to rocket in his convo with Quill and Mantis.

Unfortunately, however, they along with the rest of Taluhnia, would perish after the Chitari would test an experimental doomsday device on the planet. After the planets destruction, the other branch worlds would mobilise an attack, but they were no match for the Chitari and were destroyed as well. Fortunately, groot was able to regrow himself into a smaller sapling form. Making him, as far as he knows, the only survivor. In his smaller form, he would eventually be sold to the collector, but would later be stolen by rocket who raided the whole place while drunk. It’s kind of a mix of the maintenance mammal stuff from the gotg issue 14 story and the general flora Collossus are corrupt stuff from that and groot issue 6, with the alien race wipe out the flora colossus part from the cartoon (though swapping out the Kree for the Chitari this time).

…And that’s it for the most famous Groot origins! Again, this doesn’t include every incarnation of Groot ever, but I think I covered my bases with the most notable continuities. Maybe I’ll have a go at writing my own take on the origin at some point, but for now, I just hope you all enjoyed learning about Groot’s different pasts as much as I did researching them…

Also let me know if there are other, more obscure versions of Groot and his backstory I missed here. I’m always down to learning more Groot lore.

#marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #Disney #comics #marvel comics #gotg #groot #rocket raccoon #Peter quill #star lord #disney xd #eidos montreal #Groot comics #gotg comics #guardians of the galaxy

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twistedisciple · 1 month

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Before the Scars

Bishop Mastery drabble: 682

cw: gore

Everyone had to be good at something. Otherwise, you would die. Get thrown out, technically, but in the snowy wilds of Elusia, everyone knew what that meant. Back then, fear had not yet hardened and calcified into a defective, useless organ inside of Griss. It used to pump his blood so full of adrenaline that he’d spend his nights praying that Lord Sombron not abandon him, spend his days with a desperate sleeplessness in his sunken eyes.

Like the other monks in the monastery, he’d been taught magic under the priests’ whips, and he’d watched the older cohorts split into two groups as the years passed: those that were awarded some modicum of prestige and a minor title within the church, and those that turned into grey monuments in the snow, fingers and toes blackened, eyes frozen wide open, waiting for a spring that would never come for them. Death did not scare him, and indeed the fear of death was counted among a handful of cardinal sins, but the souls of those that had succumbed as the defects had were trapped within the rejected flesh for eternity, never to decay, never to be a vessel for their lord’s power, their existence immortalized in a pillar of shame. Eternity was a long time, Griss knew that, but he saw it hurtling at him faster than he could run.

Each day, angry red welts were added to his arms and back, and each day he had nothing to show for them. Sometimes, he could conjure a little bit of a breeze, enough to sway the scraggly grass under his feet. Sometimes, a spark. But always the whip’s fierce lashing. He lacked focus, one of the priests said. He didn’t know how when he prayed every night. He kept praying, because there was nothing else he could do. The flagellum had even started to lose its edge.

Torn flesh fascinated him. He ripped his own open, stitched it together in pretty red zigzags, dug his fingers into the wounds of others, plucked out splinters and fragments of bone like an archaeologist, and closed them all up again. Curiosity cultivated an uncommon fearlessness which bred an even greater curiosity for all the different ways the body could be bent and broken, the sensations that came with it. How it could be put back together again. His own. Others. It didn’t matter whose, in the end.

No great epiphany had preceded the glow of the Heal staff under his palm one morning in the monastery’s iron-scented infirmary. It’d been abandoned by one of his fellows for just a moment, and Griss had swept in to prod at the swelling around the patient’s mangled elbow, searching for a source like an explorer charting the frontier, ignoring sleepy moans of discomfort even as he pressed his thumb hard against a lump and pitched the cries louder. Then it gave. The cries subsided. The fever heat cooled. The man treating him returned and chased Griss away with a few solid strikes from the staff’s blunt end.

It came with no fanfare, this talent. From that day on, he intuited his way around a variety of staves without picking up a book, driven by a curiosity toward the flesh and a resonant listening gifted to few - a kind of perfect pitch that he would never recognize as a gift until years later, with Zephia’s observation. He could recognize each staff by a series of shapes. Heal was a single, simple triangle. Recover was a red thread, three loops, ringed by seven triangles. And these were inarticulate instructions his body simply knew. A gift he learned to take for granted.

His lessons with the priests and their whips never stopped though, and neither did their criticism. There was nothing special about learning to use a staff, but there was nothing really special about learning to cast spells either. These were givens. The expected minimum to allow one shelter within Lord Sombron’s grace. Everyone had to be good at something, after all. Otherwise, you would die.

Griss did not fear death, and he never would again.

#mastery drabbles #// meant to write this months ago #// but griss accessing gremory this month finally lit a fire under my ass #// wanted him to master bishop before mastering gremory because of the symbolism of his base proficiency being staves #// messy messy though don't read

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sweeter-innocence-fics · 2 years

Text

Surviving Sokovia - Chapter Six

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Work Summary:

You were a Sokovian orphan living on the streets of Novi Grad, until Strucker offered you a choice.

Now you are a part of his human experimentation programme, trying to survive an entirely different world of horrors. The kind boy with the beautiful eyes is the only thing that keeps you going.

This story contains dark themes. Please read the notes on chapter one for more details. Dialogue in {these brackets} is in Sokovian.

Chapter Summary: Strucker has plans for you and Pietro.

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3732

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Taglist: @mcximffs @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @lanemarvels @marrigold-2002 @kathrinchek @mrs-kai-anderson @ang3l1te @missryerye @ifilwtmfc @officiallykuute @noz4a2

Taglist info.

Previous Chapter

Notes:

Gonna be getting darker from here on in, folks.

Warnings for: attempted forced breeding, dubious consent (to be clear, both parties want to have sex but there is also external pressure), awkward boners, sexual content, virgin!reader

---

You didn’t suspect a thing. You had grown complacent; while the threat of Hydra always loomed over you, you had become too used to it. Or perhaps you were just tired. It had been a long day of training, after all. You finished far, far later than usual. You were usually done by 6, but it had to be past 8 at this point. That should’ve let you know that something was different, and yet…

It wasn’t until you stepped into your quarters and the door slammed shut behind you that you realised something was wrong.

Pietro was on you in a second, grabbing both of your arms. His eyes were bloodshot, and there were dark purple bruises blooming on his face and neck.

“Piet-” You reached out to touch his face but he shook his head. “{What’s wrong?}”

“{They took Wanda}.” His voice was raw, as if he’d been crying.

“{What?}”

It was as though a rug had been pulled out from under you. You clung to Pietro, trying not to lose your balance. He slipped an arm around your waist and held you steady.

“{What do you mean they took her?}”

He opened his mouth, but a crackling voice over the intercom cut him off.

“I can assure you that Wanda is perfectly safe.” It was Strucker. You shuddered. “I just thought you two lovebirds might appreciate more privacy.”

Your blood ran cold. It had been a few days since you almost kissed Pietro. You had hoped that Hydra wouldn’t have noticed, wouldn’t have been paying attention. Evidently, they had.

“Why won’t you let me see her then?” said Pietro, looking up at one of the security cameras.

“Because you’re part of an even more important programme now. We can’t have you getting distracted.”

Pietro stiffened, but he didn’t look surprised.

“Piet?” you broached. “{What is he talking about?}”

His jaw was clenched tight. He looked down at you, his blue eyes dark with anger. “{They want… They’re going to make us…}”

“The two of you have been selected for our breeding programme,” came Strucker’s voice, and you were almost sure you must’ve misheard him.

“Breeding?” The word felt strange on your tongue. Pietro’s arms tightened around you.

“Of course. You two are prime candidates. You’re both young… Fertile… And enhanced. This is a purely scientific endeavour. You do not need to get emotional about it.”

“What?”

Pietro wouldn’t meet your eyes, but he was still holding you upright. You needed that now more than ever.

“I would suggest you two have fun.” You trembled at the edge in Strucker’s voice. “You may see Wanda again when you’ve bred.”

“Fuck you,” you yelled. Strucker didn’t respond. You and Pietro were alone again, and he still wasn’t meeting your eyes.

It was only then that you noticed how the furniture had been rearranged. Gone were the three single beds. Now, in the centre of one wall, was one king-sized four-poster with a pale blue canopy hanging over it. You took a step towards it and Pietro’s arms dropped from around your waist, leaving you feeling cold. You walked over to the bed and touched the duvet cover. It was soft under your fingers.

“{I’m sorry},” came Pietro’s voice from behind you.

“{What are you sorry for?}” you asked, staring down at the bedspread. “{This isn’t your fault}.”

“{I know… But I’m still sorry}.”

You turned to look at him. “{Pietro, I can’t bring a baby into this world. Not right now. Look at where we are. And as bad as Hydra has been to us, imagine what they’d do to our baby. I can’t let that happen}.”

Pietro gave a small nod. His expression was resolute. “{We will not make a baby, then}.”

“{But what about Wanda?}”

He grimaced. “{They have no reason to hurt her. She is Strucker’s favourite. I can live with not seeing her as long as I know she’s okay}.”

“{I hope you’re right}.”

You looked back at the bed. Pietro shifted awkwardly beside you. “{I will sleep on the couch}.”

“{If you sleep on the couch, they will just take the couch away. They want us to share this bed}.”

“{Then I will sleep on the floor}.”

“Pietro…”

“{You’re right. We can’t bring a baby into this world}.”

“{We can still share the bed. It’s not like we haven’t shared beds before}.” You looked up at him, taking in the pained expression on his face. You reached out a hand, and he took it. “{Let’s rest, okay? Maybe things will be less frightening in the morning}.”

Pietro smiled weakly. “{I am exhausted}.”

You changed into your pyjamas in the bathroom. When you re-emerged, Pietro was buttoning up his pyjama top, not looking at you.

“{Which side of the bed do you want?}” you asked.

“{You can choose}.” He still didn’t look at you. You opted for the side of the bed closest to where your original bed had been. You crawled into it, pulling the covers up under your chin. Pietro didn’t join you immediately.

You lay facing away from him, eyes closed. When he finally took up his own side of the bed, you were almost asleep. Your dinner lay uneaten in the hatch, but for once, you were too tired to think about food.

“{Goodnight…}” he murmured.

“{Goodnight, Pietro}.”

Although you’ve shared beds countless times before, this was undeniably different. Without Wanda as a buffer, the two of you stuck awkwardly to the edges of the mattress, every accidental touch setting off alarm bells in your head.

On the first morning, you woke up before Pietro. He was sprawled across his side of the bed, duvet thrown off, morning wood pressing up against the confines of his thin cotton pyjama bottoms. You had turned away, embarrassed. Eventually, you heard him shift, and then the tell-tale whoosh of him disappearing into the bathroom.

You settled into a little routine. Every morning, you would stay in bed until Pietro had had a chance to sneak off and deal with his ‘problem’. Neither of you mentioned it.

You still had training sessions, but you were escorted to each one by Hydra agents. There was no trace of Wanda.

In the evenings, you would play cards, but it didn’t feel the way it used to. Every time his fingers would brush yours, your cheeks would burn. Wanda’s absence was a heavy weight on both of you.

Ultimately, you managed to sleep beside Pietro for three nights without incident. On the fourth night, you were awoken by the bed shaking. There was a quiet whimpering from the other side of the bed.

“Pietro?” you murmured into the dark, but he didn’t respond. He was still asleep, tossing and turning. “Pietro?” You shuffled closer, and he sat up suddenly.

“Papa?” he cried, his fingers twisting into the sheets.

“{Pietro? It’s me},” you whispered, soothingly. His chest was rising and falling heavily with each breath.

After a long moment, he said, “{Sorry}.”

“{What are you sorry for?}”

“{Waking you}.”

“{It’s not your fault}.” You moved closer to him. He didn’t protest, so you touched his shoulder. “{Were you having a nightmare?}”

His head tipped forward so that his chin was resting on his chest. You stroked his shoulder, trying to coax words out of him. “{…Yes}.”

“{Do you want to tell me about it?}”

“{I wish Wanda was here}.”

You sighed. “{Me too. But I’m here for you. Tell me what’s wrong}.” You opened your arms to him. After a moment’s hesitation, he lay back down, resting his head on your chest. Your arm wrapped around his shoulders, fingers carding through his hair. There was a smell of lavender in the air around you. You hadn’t done it on purpose, but it was sprouting from the mattress and the pillows, poking holes in the bedsheets. A primal instinct to soothe.

“{I was… dreaming. About the night my parents died}.” His voice was quiet, but you still heard every word. You squeezed his shoulder, trying to be encouraging. “{A bomb fell on our apartment. My parents were killed immediately, but me and Wanda…}” He took a quiet, shuddery breath. “{…We hid under the bed. We could see the bomb. It was just sitting there. Our parents were dead and we were completely hopeless, certain that we would soon die too. Holding onto each other and waiting for the end. All the while, those words… Stark Industries. I felt like they were mocking us}.” You could feel dampness on your neck from his tears. You stroked his hair. “{We were there for twelve hours}.”

You winced. “Pietro…” Words failed you. The twins had told you bits and pieces of this story before, but you hadn’t known the full extent of it. Now, with Pietro in your arms, you wanted more than anything to go back in time and pull those two children out of the rubble, hold onto them and never let go.

“{Sometimes I feel like I died that night. Like everything after that point is some strange dream. Some fantasy. Or perhaps I’m in hell. But then…}”

You rested your cheek on the top of his head. His hair was soft against your skin. “{Then?}”

“{If this was hell, you wouldn’t be here},” he said. Your cheeks warmed. There was a tingling in the skin of your neck. “{But maybe I made you up. You’re so perfect I’m sure you must be a dream sometimes}.” He leant back a little, tilting his head up to look you in the eyes. Your breath was caught in your throat.

Unthinking, you closed the distance between you and pressed your lips against his. His lips were softer than you’d expected. The quiet, happy exhale that escaped him sent a shiver down your spine. The hint of stubble along his jaw and upper lip tickled and scratched your skin. For one short, sweet moment, it was perfect.

It didn’t last. With a sinking feeling in your gut, you pulled back. “{I’m sorry},” you said hurriedly, but Pietro was already shaking his head.

“{Don’t you dare apologise, sweet girl. You just made my year}.”

“Pietro,” you said, half laughing and halfway to tears. “{We can’t}.”

“{I know}.” He squeezed you, and then shifted so that he was lying beside you rather than on top of you. His arms were still wrapped firmly around your waist. “{Still}.”

The two of you lay there in silence for a long time. Sometimes, you were sure that Pietro was watching you, but you couldn’t meet his eyes. If you did, you may have pulled him on top of you and let him have his wicked way with you, breeding programme be damned.

He was holding your hand. His fingers were tracing patterns across your palm. Before you could stop yourself, you turned and lay your head on his shoulder.

“{The day my parents died...}” you said, forcing the words out. Pietro had opened up to you. You didn’t want to keep any part of yourself from him. At your words, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and stroked the back of your neck. “{It was my fault}.” The words hurt to think, let alone say. “{I was just a kid. I didn’t know what I was doing. I found a kitten in the street and I was playing with her. I named her Mika. I wanted to take her home. But there was a soldier}.” Tears were streaming down your cheeks now. “{He said that she was a rat. He kicked her. I was so young, I didn’t know any better}.” Your chest hurt with the effort it took to say the next words. “{I hit him}.”

You heard Pietro’s sharp intake of breath. You closed your eyes, hoping that might stem the flood of tears. “{Sweet girl…}” He sounded anguished. For a moment, a small, terrified part of you thought that he might agree that it was all your fault, but then he said, “{I am so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry}.”

Relieved, you took a deep breath. “{He was going to shoot me. But my father got in the way. Both of my parents put themselves between me and soldier and they told me to run. So I did. Biggest regret of my life}.”

“{Of course you had to run, sweet girl. There was nothing you could’ve done.”

“{I know},” you said. “{Still. I heard my mother’s screams as they shot my father. I suppose it’s a mercy that they killed her too and didn’t drag her off to do awful things to her. When I made it to the roof, I looked down and saw their bodies. Their eyes were still open}.” Pietro’s fingers smoothed your hair behind your ear, rubbing gentle circles around the pressure points there, the way you’d sometimes do for Wanda when she had a migraine. “{Things were never the same after that. I couldn’t go home. Soon afterwards there was a riot. Many soldiers were killed, including the one who killed my parents. Small blessings, I suppose}.”

Feeling exhausted now, and more than a little cried out, you tucked your face into Pietro’s shoulder. He shifted into a more comfortable position, never letting go of you. Your ear was pressed against his chest, and you could hear the steady thudding of his heart.

“{I always thought you were the bravest person I’ve ever met},” he said quietly. “{Now I know that I was right}.”

“{I love you},” you murmured.

“{I love you too. And I will keep you safe}.”

That night, you slept better than you had in days.

The next morning, you woke up to Pietro trying to detangle himself from you. Your head was on his shoulder, one arm thrown across his chest.

“Hm,” you mumbled, and then cuddled closer to him. You felt him freeze.

“{Are you awake?}”

“{A little}.”

You lay there in silence for a few moments. Pietro’s entire body was as stiff as a board. With a jolt, you realised that his morning wood was poking insistently into your thigh. He was trying so hard not to rub against you in any way.

“{Sweet girl},” he said after a long moment. “{I need to… I have to…}” He nodded towards the bathroom awkwardly.

“{You’re so warm, though},” you murmured, half-asleep.

“{If you give me a few minutes to, uh… take care of something, I can come back and hold for as long as you want}.”

“{Okay}.” You let go of him, rolling off him, but in the process of doing so, your thigh rubbed against his erection. He let out a quiet, involuntary moan, and his hips jumped, trying to follow your leg.

His cheeks flushed bright red. “{I’m sorry, I should-}”

You grabbed his arm before he could flee. “{I could help you, if you want}.”

Pietro’s eyes looked like they were going to burst out of his skull. “{Sweet girl, you said so yourself, we can’t do this}.”

“{I’m not planning on doing anything that’s going to get me pregnant}.” You had tried to be good. But his proximity to you, the smell of his body and the feeling of his hard cock pressed against you had left you hot and needy between your legs. You wanted to touch him. You wanted him to touch you. Some deep part of you was telling you that this was a terrible idea, but it was getting harder and harder to listen.

Pietro’s hand came up to cup your face. “{Are you sure?}”

“{Absolutely. Do you want me?}”

“{I don’t even know how you can ask that. It’s obvious that I do}.”

You raised yourself up onto your hands and knees and looked down at him. He was breathing hard, his lips parted slightly. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you swung one leg over him and lowered yourself down until your ass was pressed against his bulge.

“{Tell me what to do},” you whispered, and Pietro’s hands immediately went to your hips. “{Show me what to do}.”

“{Just- move with me}.”

Pietro set the pace, rocking you against him. It was a strange sensation. It felt good, sure, but there was still a feeling of needing something more, although you weren’t sure what ‘more’ meant. Through several layers of clothing, your pussy was grinding against his lower stomach. His grip on you was firm but tender.

At a certain point, as he grew more desperate and turned on, it was less as though he was guiding you and more as though he was rutting up against you like an animal. Part of you quite liked the idea of Pietro using you like that. Just putting his hands on you and manhandling you wherever he wanted to, and then taking you however he pleased.

You shivered, gripping the front of his shirt tightly. He let out a soft moan. “{You feel so good},” he whimpered. “{Bouncing up and down on my cock. Such a good girl}.”

There was a warm tingling in your lower stomach. It was a sensation that was familiar, but only distantly. You needed more.

You grabbed one of Pietro’s hands and guided it from your hip up under your shirt to your breast. He squeezed, and you moaned.

“{Fuck}.” Pietro’s grip on your breast and hip tightened to the point where it almost hurt. He was rutting hard against you, practically panting. You let him take what he needed. There was so much wetness between your thighs now that you could feel it dripping down to your ass.

After a moment, his movements slowed. His grip on you loosened. “{Sorry},” he said, breathlessly. “{Did I hurt you?}”

“{A little}.”

“{I can kiss it better?}”

There was a fluttering of golden winged butterflies in your lower stomach. “{Yeah, okay}.”

Gently, Pietro rolled you onto your back. You could see the wet patch on the front of his trousers, and with a twisting feeling, you realised that you had made him cum.

“{Can I take your shirt off?}”

You nodded, helping him pull the pyjama shirt off over your head and leaving you bare. One of your breasts was a little bruised, but other than that, you were fine.

“{You are so beautiful},” murmured Pietro. As promised, he lay kisses on your bruised breast. He stopped at one moment to lick over your nipple, and you let out a squeak. He looked up into your eyes. “{You made me feel good. I’m going to make you feel good now. Is that alright?}”

“{Yes please}.”

He hovered over you for a moment, an intense look in his eyes. You met his gaze, unable to look away. Dropping a soft kiss on your lips – gone before you could even really appreciate it – he buried his face in your neck. There was a light scratch of stubble as he kissed and nipped at your sensitive skin.

You were so preoccupied by his mouth on your neck that you didn’t see his hand until it was slipping under the waistband of your pyjama trousers. Your breath hitched as his fingers found the little bow on the front of your panties. He pulled back to look you in the eyes.

“{Yes?}”

“{Yes},” you said breathlessly, and he slid his hand into your panties.

You’d never been touched like this before. His lips and teeth were worrying at your earlobe, drawing little panting gasps from deep within you, just as his fingers slipped down between your thighs.

“{Fuck},” he murmured right into your ear. His breath tickled you, but in a way that made you want to moan rather than laugh. “{You’re so wet, sweet girl. Nobody has ever touched you here, have they?}” He swirled his fingers through your wetness to demonstrate his point.

“{No one. Just you}.” You no longer felt able to speak in full sentences. Pietro pressed himself against you, his cock hard again, rubbing up against your hip. His middle finger pushed inside you, his thumb tapping against your clit. “Pietro.”

“{You feel what you’re doing to me? How hard you make me?}” You let him guide your hand down to his bulge, feeling the hardness through layers of fabric.

He pinned you to the bed, thrusting another finger into you. You whimpered, your back arching. The heat in your stomach was almost unbearable. Unbidden, you slid your hand into Pietro’s trousers and found that he wasn’t wearing underwear.

Your hand curled around his cock, hard and sticky from his previous orgasm. You pulled it out, feeling its weight in your fingers. You had nothing to compare it to, but it felt big. A sharp twinge of pleasure jolted through your gut at the idea of Pietro’s cock replacing his fingers inside you. You pushed the thought away and began to stroke up and down its length.

He was panting against your neck. There were three fingers moving in and out of you now, pressing hard against a spot inside you that made you groan with every thrust. His thumb was vibrating against your clit.

“{Fuck, Pietro}.” Your hand tightened around his cock as the pleasure overtook you, arching your back and curling your toes.

“{Cum for me, pretty girl. Good girl. Good girl}.”

You slumped against the bed. The pressure of Pietro’s hand between your legs felt like too much, but you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him to stop. Instead, you squeezed his cock, stroking your hand up and down it, and cum splattered all over your bare stomach.

He slumped beside you. You could feel his eyes on you as you licked some of his cum off your hand. He swore quietly, burying face into his pillow.

The two of you lay there for a few moments, out of breath and sticky. The air smelled like sweat and cum. You let your eyes fall closed.

“{Sweet girl…}” Pietro murmured.

“Hm?”

“{Was that… okay?}”

You opened your eyes to look at him. He looked nervous. “{It was perfect, Pietro}.”

He exhaled in relief. He became a blur suddenly, returning with a wet washcloth. You watched him quickly wiping his cum off of you, and then himself. When he was done, you took his hand.

“{We need to be careful},” you murmured.

“{We will be careful, my love}.”

You felt as though your heart might beat out of your chest.

Next Chapter

#pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff smut #pietro maximoff x you #pietro maximoff fanfiction

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tomtenadia · 1 year

Text

Stranded

Good evening all,

I while ago I posted a snippet of a fic I was planning. The idea came to me after watching a Netflix mini series called Jules storm (A Christmas storm) in English. in the series a group of people get stranded at Oslo airport after a bad snow storm. For this floc I took inspiration from two characters in the series. I was watching it and realised it was a perfect Rowaelin. Rowan is the grumpy pilot and Aelin is the one keeping him company. They start as reluctant stranded passengers, until they realise the other is not too bad.

CW: it’s meant to be fluff but it has a smidge of angst and also mention of miscarriage.

I wrote a part 2 already and... if you want I might work on a further part 3 if anyone is interested.

The storm had been raging all through the night. An event that in Doranelle had been labelled as extraordinary.

All morning all Aelin heard on the tv was the news of the incredible snowstorm that had hit the land. People in Wendlyn were not prepared or used to it. It was very likely that some of them had never seen snow in all of their existences. She, on the other hand, was Terrasen born and bred and learned to walk in heavy snow since she took her first steps.

And it was because of that snow that now she was walking to the subway station instead of taking a taxi to the airport. She was going home. For good. She was closing a chapter of her life that had left her depressed, hollow and with a divorce at the age of 28.

It had been three months since that horrible morning when she woke up in blood soaked sheets and the scary realisation that there was something wrong with her pregnancy. Her husband was not at home so she had called an ambulance and was rushed to the hospital while the dreadful realisation spread in her. It was not long after that the doctor had confirmed that she had lost her baby girl.

She felt broken and hollow and alone. Her husband Chaol had showed up in the evening and while she grieved he just stood and offered little comfort.

Aelin shut down and pushed the world away while Chaol was never at home. Until one day the truth. He had been cheating on her with his secretary.

As soon as she was able to face the world again, Aelin grabbed her resolve to get out of bed and get an appointment with a divorce lawyer. A week later she strolled in his office and served him the papers. On that same day she had bought a ticket home to Terrasen and called her parents with the good news. Rhoe and Evalin had been delighted. She needed healing and felt that with her parents was the place where to start. She knew her mother had suffered with pregnancies too and she was positive she’d be the best support she could have.

Aelin tucked those thoughts away and climbed the stairs down to the subway station. Luckily Doranelle had a direct line from the city centre to the airport. She doubted that buses would be able to cope in those road conditions. She had missed the snow, the cottoned silence, the smell.

The subway was packed and arrived at destination a good thirty minutes later.

As soon as she stepped in the airport compound she felt a pang of joy. She was going home.

But the weather had other plans for her.

Rowan stopped at the big airport windows and looked at the runaways covered in deep snow. The vehicles could not clean the tarmac quickly enough, that a new layer of snow was already down again. He sighed. He had taken a flight in that very same early morning from Antica and it had been a shitty approach. He had almost asked ATC to abort the landing, but then managed to take the plane safely down without too much drama. Rowan was about to leave the crew offices when his phone rang.

“Hey.”

Rowan listened to the voice on the other side.

“ATC closed it. Good.”

His brows furrowed at the next pause “What do you mean you want to keep me on standby? Nothing is fucking moving. Doranelle is not equipped to deal with this, it will take days.”

With his right hand he pinched the bridge of his nose in pure exasperation “Fine. You owe me one. I will go and be lazy in the First class lounge.”

He closed the call and stared for a few more minutes at the airport operations grinding to a halt. The storm had even grown in intensity and the visibility was now close to zero.

He adjusted his uniform, grabbed his suitcase and walked to the lounge. Well, at least he had a big book that should last him for a while.

Aelin was still in front of the huge departure board. All flights were cancelled. The recorded voice over the tannoy kept repeating that due to extreme whether all flights will be heavily affected, please contact the airline desk. She texted her parents to let them know that she was stuck in Doranelle due to the storm. Her father replied to stay safe and that they were looking forward to have her back.

She went to check-in anyway and got rid of her heavy luggage and the assistant told her that for now the airport was closed, but she was on the list for the next available.

With a sigh she grabbed her backpack and stuffed her jacket under her arm and slowly walked to the customer service area as recommended and prepared herself for a very long wait on the airport’s chairs and numerous bored walks around the terminal.

Rowan made it to the lounge and greeted the assistants whom he knew already since he and the other pilots were regulars there when on stand down in between flights.

“Hey Ro, stuck here?”

The woman was called Lyria and according to all of his colleagues she had a thing for him.

“Yeah, looks like we are in for a long one.” He scanned his staff badge and the barriers opened for him.

The room was packed and it looked like a lot of other people had the same idea. He finally spotted an empty table and with his long legs strode there and crashed on the comfy seats with a heavy sigh. From his suitcase he pulled out his book and went to the buffet to grab some orange juice and food. He was technically still on duty so strictly no alcohol. A shame. A beer would be a dream right now.

Once back he deposited his bounty on the table and cracked open the book.

It took Aelin a good ten minutes to find the customer service desk. She was busy talking with the assistant when a tall blonde woman dropped her bag quite abruptly on the counter and pushed her aside.

“Put me on the next flight to Rifthold.”

“I am sorry ma’am, but the airport is closed and no one is going anywhere.”

The blonde woman took out her purse “I can pay, I have all the cards. Tell me a price and I will pay.”

Aelin stared at the customer assistant take a deep breath “I am sorry, but the weather does not take cards.”

The obnoxious woman grunted in annoyance “You must be one of those foreigners who stays here and don’t bother to learn the language, because you are not understanding me,” she slammed all the credit cards on the desk “Give me a ticket to Rifthold.”

The petite woman behind the desk pushed the cards away “I am sorry to disappoint you but I was born and bred in Doranelle and I can understand you perfectly.” Aelin noticed that her Wendlyn accent had become more pronounced almost as if on purpose “As I said, unless you have a direct line with the gods who control the weather, you are stuck like every other soul.”

The blonde woman took her cards back and stormed away.

“I am sorry, miss.”

Aelin shook her head and walked back to the counter “Don’t worry, you have held yourself very well. And nice touch on making your accent clear. That shut her up.”

The woman smiled “speaking of accents, you are not from here.”

Aelin gave her a timid smile “No, I am from Terrasen. Loved it here but it’s time to get home.”

The assistant started tapping on her computer “I should not really do this, but this is a shitty situation and I don’t care. Better you than her.” She passed a new ticket to Aelin “You are now upgraded to first class on your next flight which means you can enjoy the lounge. There’s food and it’s cozy.”

Aelin was speechless and almost hugged the woman “I…” words failed her “Thank you so very much. I hope the next customers will be much nicer to you. Than you, thank you.” She held the ticket closer to her heart and grabbed her stuff.

She could not believe it.

Aelin was excited at going into the first class lounge. She always travelled economy and had no idea what lay behind those doors.

At the entrance she saw barriers and stopped, unaware of what to do.

“Scan the boarding pass,” said the brunette at the desk.

Aelin followed the instructions and the automatic gates opened and took a step inside.

Rowan had grabbed his headphones and was now relaxing in peace while snacking on hummus, pitta bread and other foods offered in the lounge. He was stuck and was definitely making the most of the situation.

He was soo engrossed in his book that he did not notice the woman standing at his table and apparently talking to him.

Aelin stepped inside the lounge and was amazed. It was buzzing and at the centre there was a massive buffet table with what she discovered was free food. Technically complimentary, those people paid a first class fare, she didn’t and for an instant she felt like an intruder.

Without passing as too eager, she grabbed a tray and filled it with a few small dishes, then got a cup of coffee with a crazy amount of sugar as she liked it and started looking for a table.

The lounge was choc-a-block and there were no seats left. Getting into the first class lounge and then not finding a seat seemed like a cosmic joke. She wandered a bit until in a corner she spotted a man with silver hair occupying a four seats table all by himself. The nerve. She noticed his uniform and that he was a pilot. Aelin took a deep breath and marched to him.

“Do you mind if I sit?”

Fine, he had headphones and was reading.

Aelin waved her hand “Hey?”

Pine green eyes stared at her. The most stunning green eyes she had ever seen. And a face that promised murder.

“What?” He growled as he pulled down the headphones.

“Can I sit? The lounge is very full.”

The man in front of her exhaled a deep annoyed breath and pulled down his legs from the chairs on the other side and went back listening to the music, reading and ignoring her.

Why? Wondered Rowan as the stranger sat opposite from him. Why some people thought it was acceptable to occupy a table that is already taken? The lounge was full. She could just go back to the terminal like all of the other passengers. He was a pilot and needed his down time.

Sneakily, he looked at her and she definitely did not belong there. She was probably flying first class on mum and dad’s money. Oh yes, she was the classic naive rich brat who goes around the world and never has worked a day in her life. The man in him though, could not fail to notice that she was stunning. Her hair was almost as gold and the eyes. They were piercing blue, with a ring of gold in them. Yes, she was annoying but he could not deny the facts. She was probably the most stunning woman he had ever seen.

Rowan was busy secretly staring at her that he did not notice that the woman was talking. To him apparently. Hellas, fate had given him a chatty table partner.

“What?” Another growl.

“Is that Wendlyn airlines colours? Are you a pilot? You must be, you have the wings and the cuff-rings. Were you due to fly today?”

Rowan wondered how to murder her and how to make it look like an accident. He placed the book down, careful not to lose his spot and stared at her “Yes, princess. I am a pilot and now I am stuck here, trying to relax and I have this annoying woman ruining my day.”

Aelin glared at him “Mala save me, you are grumpy.”

In irritation, he straightened his back “I am grumpy? I landed this morning and I was due to finish. But then my boss asked me to be on standby because as soon as this hellish snowstorm is over I will have to fly out any poor irritating soul that has been stuck in this damned place.”

He was hoping that shut her up but the woman instead smiled at him “But you are taking these people home or on holiday or to work. You are helping them achieving their goal. And if they are going back home to their families, it’s a happy ending.”

Rowan’s mouth fell open in disbelief. Who was this woman? “I don’t care who these people are. For me they are a number on my manifest that I am safely carrying from A to B.”

“That’s a very cold way to see it.”

“I am sorry princess if I burst your bubble,” his tone now harsh “Next time fly with Unicorn airlines and the captain will vomit rainbows once you land.”

Aelin grabbed her coffee and tried to ignore the comments.

“You better be a good pilot, because you are a shitty human being.” Aelin stood and stormed out of the lounge and found a quiet spot in a corner of the airport. She sat down and let the tears flow. She was so tired and felt lost. Her life had been put on hold. She had a plan a goal but then all came crashing down and in the past few months she had just existed. Aelin sniffled hard. That arsehole. As if a pretty uniform allowed him to treat people like garbage. She had been trying to find positivity in the small things to cope after her post miscarriage depression. Maybe she seemed naive to strangers but it had become her coping mechanism not to plunge in the abysm of desperation once again.

She sat in silence and let the tears flow until she was spent, then grabbed her stuff and started walking. Her experience in the first class lounge had been brief and ruined by the worst pilot in Wendlyn airlines.

Knowing that she had possibly many more hours ahead Aelin started walking back and forth in the terminal, noticing all the people who, just like her, were trying to pass the time.

Her feet took her again at the end of the terminal where all the lounges were. The first class had a window on the runaways and another right on the terminal. She looked up and noticed the table she had occupied before. What she was not expecting was the silver haired pilot staring at her from the big window.

Rowan had felt bad. Yes, she was a bit naive but he had been downright rude. Maybe he really had to start to keep his grumpiness at bay. He could not remove from his mind her dejected stare at his words. He had hurt her. Of that he had no doubt. He stood and went to window to stare at all the passengers walking around the terminal and thought about her words. Those people were not just a number on a manifest. He could see their smiles at the prospect of going on holiday or home, businessmen and women itching to get off to run to their meeting. The woman was right, there were stories behind those faces. But his job was to fly them safely to their destination and to keep his cool in a crisis. Having some sort of detachment made his life easier.

His eyes scanned the busy terminal until he spotted a mane of golden hair that attracted his attention. The woman stopped and looked up. Blue eyes stared right into his soul and in that instant his right hand took a life on its own and rose waving lightly in her direction.

He saw her eyes widen at the surprise and waved back, but no smile reached her eyes. A second later he was gesturing like a madman for her to come up.

Once she moved he ran to the bar and asked something to the bartender and once ready took it to the table and then walked to the entrance of the lounge and waited for her.

Behind him he could feel Lyria’s stare but he ignored her.

The woman arrived a few minutes later and scanned her boarding card to go back in.

Rowan pointed to the table and she followed.

“A peace offering,” he indicated the warm drink on the table “the bartender assured me it’s sugary and sweet.”

Aelin looked at the drink in front of her. It was a hot chocolate with cream, marshmallows and sprinkles of various colours and a few chocolate sticks popping out.

“That’s a drink you’d get on Unicorn airlines.”

Aelin chuckled lightly “I am Aelin by the way.”

“Captain arsehole, a.k.a Rowan.”

She took a sip of the drink and it was sweet just how she loved it and noticed he only had a black coffee “no hot chocolate for you?”

He waved his hand in a dismissive motion “nah, I will leave eating unicorn stuff to you.”

The smile he gave her was very faint and Aelin wondered how he’d look with a full smile.

“So, why the peace offering?”

He played with some of the olives on a small plate “I had no right to talk to you that way.”

Aelin took a sip as an excuse to gather her thoughts “I am not a princess, or a spoiled brat travelling with her parent’s money.”

A sharp air intake left Rowan’s lips.

“Yes, you had the face. You judged me as soon as I sat down and assumed that I was all of the above.”

He stared at her and once again he noticed that veil of sadness in her. He wanted to see her smile and lit up the room.

“Bad habit,” he chuckled “You know when you get off the plane and sometimes you have the captain there too telling you good bye?” He explained hoping to light the mood “Once the plane is empty, the crew and I love to comment on some of the passengers. Nothing cruel, sometimes is to destress after a long haul flight and have a laugh.”

Aelin gave him a weak smile “anything weird?”

“Once we were flying to Melisandre and one of my crew told me that this couple had their blankets all over them. They kept an eye on them, refused in-flight meals and then half way through the flight they got to the toilet one at a time. When they disembarked they were tomato red in their faces.”

Aelin burst out laughing “Holy shit, no.”

Rowan nodded solemnly “We have a feeling they went for another type of in flight entertainment.”

“Fuck, people can be so disgusting.”

“It was a good thing it was the last flight of the day. We managed to sanitise the seats heavily.”

Aelin munched on a chocolate stick “So, is being a pilot as trendy as it seems?”

Rowan went silent. He loved flying. He did a few years in the airforce and when he left he got easily a job as commercial pilot. He already had the training and a lot of flying hours. It had been an easy transition and less traumatic. But no, definitely it lacked all the romanticised aspects “It’s a job. I love flying.”

“But you can visit so many places.”

He snorted “On a short layover I have little time. If I fly domestic routes in Wendlyn it’s very much a back and forth.” He explained, playing with his spoon “Today I should have come off the Antica flight and got home and come back tomorrow to fly out to Melisandre.”

Aelin was silent.

“I don’t get to see much of the lands I visit. I put the plane down, there’s a lot of stuff to do, then I will probably have to go through customs, although crew has priority, and most of the time I go back to the hotel, eat and sleep.”

“That sucks,” she stuffed a marshmallow in her mouth “I love airports, the buzz and the excitement of a trip.”

Rowan rolled his eyes “you have seen one, you seen them all.”

Aelin shrugged and Rowan studied her reaction “How can you always be so positive?”

He stared at her face grow dark all of a sudden while staring outside the big window.

“To cope,” she said very, very quietly.

Rowan did not miss the pain in her voice. His hand slowly moved to hers and covered it gently. When he hard her sniffle he realised there was something hurting her. And for some reason, he felt the urge to comfort this stranger who had sat down at his table on a shitty day.

“Aelin…”

She brushed her face quickly and gave him a tired smile “sorry… I am fine.”

He stared at her. She was not fine.

“I know I am the last person to whom you want to bare your soul, but I am not as a bastard as I appear.”

Aelin broke. Heavy sob escaped her and her shoulders shook. All Rowan could do was to sit at her side and pull her face to his chest and hide her from the crowd.

“Your uniform will get wet.”

“Having beautiful women cry on you is part of the job.” He hoped that the cheesy line lifted her spirits a little.

“I am twenty eight and I am moving back to my parents because my life in Doranelle went to shit,” she sobbed hard “I am divorced and I was useless as a wife.”

Rowan felt the need to hold her tight “I doubt that.”

“While I was bleeding in bed after a miscarriage, my husband was busy fucking his secretary.”

Rowan did not know the man but all of a sudden he felt the need to smash his face.

“I lost our baby and…” her sobs intensified.

“I am so sorry, damn Aelin that… must have hurt.”

“I feel like a failure.”

Rowan pulled back and grabbed her face in his hands “No, I barely know you but you cannot call yourself a failure because you lost a baby and,” he paused “if your ex made you feel so, well it’s a good thing that the bastard is gone.”

“I am sorry…” she apologised “I just dumped all my troubles on you…”

He squeezed her “sometimes it feels nice to vent to a stranger or in our case to another stranded partner.”

That made her chuckle and he relaxed at the sound.

Rowan then stood and offered her a hand “Come.”

Aelin was not sure but then accepted and grabbed her backpack and jacket.

Rowan took her hand and they started walking. She followed him in silence until he stopped in front of the multi faith chapel.

“Come.”

Aelin was puzzled and followed him inside. The room was beautiful with wooden walls and a big window.

“When it’s quite I like to come here and sit. It’s empty and I find it relaxing.”

There were wooden benches along the wall and he sat down, patting the spot at his side.

Aelin sat and closed her eyes. The place was silent and a sense of peace descended on her. She felt Rowan’s shoulder brushed hers and she inhaled his scent. Rowan smelled of pine and snow. He smelled like home.

“I am sorry I cried all over you.”

At her side Rowan sighed “I am sorry for how I treated you. I assumed things…”

“We both said horrible things.”

Rowan chuckled “We can start from scratch again.”

Aelin turned her head to him “Hi, I am Aelin.”

“Hi, I am Rowan.” They shook hands and then they fell back in silence for a moment.

Rowan turned his head to the window and stared at the snow. It was even worse “I don’t think we’ll fly today.”

They spent a few hours in the room and talked and Aelin could not believe how easy it was to talk to him. She learned he was born in Doranelle, that he had been in the airforce for a few years and then retired and joined Wendlyn airlines. He had confessed that he was not a fan of sugary stuff and Aelin had almost left him alone in the room. She would admit that he was a pleasant person to be around.

When some people came into the room they left and Rowan gave her a tour of the airport but with a personal touch and from the perspective of someone who was in there multiple times a week.

In the end, they went back to the lounge and Rowan retrieved his suitcase from the bar staff and occupied a table with two comfy sofas at each side “Looks like we managed to find a much better spot,” Aelin smiled and sat down and looked at the window that now gave them a view of the runaway.

Rowan came back a bit later with food for both and a pitcher with orange juice “Hope this is okay.”

“Is the lounge staff staying here all night?”

He nodded “yes, staff for essential shops and lounges have been asked to stay open to help all the stranded passengers.”

Aelin took her food and they had dinner and chatted happily and got to know each other a little more.

The following morning Rowan woke up after falling asleep on the sofa. He had a lovely night with Aelin and realised she was nothing like he had pictured her. She was an editor and loved books just as much as him and they had talked for hours about their favourite authors. He had never felt that connected with anyone and it felt amazing. When she fell asleep he made sure to cover her with her coat and then stared at her sleeping. Her face peaceful in her slumber.

He went to grab some coffee and noticed that the sky was a deep blue and the snowstorm had cleared. The ploughs were busy scurrying around the airport and clearing near the hubs and the main runaways. That was a good sign. He took his phone and saw that he had been allocated a flight. It was the 14:00 hrs flight to Orynth. He smiled.

Back at the table Aelin was awake and was brushing the sleep off her eyes “Morning, princess, I bring coffee.” He then smiled “look outside.”

Aelin turned her head and squealed in delight when she noticed the sun and the blue sky.

Rowan had loved that sound and the smile that burst on her face.

“Are we flying?”

“Check your phone.”

Aelin quickly grabbed her mobile and noticed a notification from her airline telling her that she was booked on the 14:00 flight to Orynth.

“Yes, my flight is at 2 p.m.”

Rowan hid his smile behind the cup of coffee.

“What about you?”

“We’ll see.”

Aelin and Rowan had exchanged numbers before going separate ways. Somehow she wanted to stay in touch with him. He had promised her to text when he was in Orynth so she could be his guide.

Now she was finally at the gate ready to board her plane. Excitement was bubbling over her. After almost 24 hrs stuck in an airport she was ready to finally go home, but a pang of sadness hit her too. She wished she had more time with Rowan.

Aelin took her seat and was giddy at being in first class. Crew brought her wine and Aelin indulged and treated herself. She heard the voice from the cockpit tell the crew to put the door on manual and cross check.

“Good afternoon, I am Rowan and I will be your captain for this flight to Orynth. We are expecting to push back in about twenty minutes as the ground crew is finishing to load your bags. Flight time is expected to be around three hours. We might encounter some turbulence over the Great Ocean and then it should be a smooth flight as far as Perranth. Current weather in Orynth is snowy, but the guys up there are more equipped than us to deal with a bit of white stuff. Local temperature is -10C which I am told is basically summer.”

Aelin giggled and the rest of the plane did the same. Rowan was taking her home and her heart raced madly.

“Now sit back and relax and let the crew look after you. I will give you updates as the flight progresses.”

“

It was three hours later when they finally landed. The flight had been bumpy, but nothing majorly scary. She had worse.

Aelin waited till everyone was off to stand from her seat. Rowan had popped out from the cockpit and was greeting the disembarking passengers.

She grabbed her belongings and walked towards the crew.

He gave her a smile.

“Thank you for the pleasant flight, captain.”

He winked at her and she exited the aircraft into the tunnel.

She was at home unpacking her suitcases when a text reached her.

I will be in Orynth for a few days. I have been given extra layover time since I was not meant to be on duty. I will need a guide. Someone told me there is a great coffee shop in the old part of the town.

Aelin smiled and texted back whoever told you that is a wise person. I need today with my parents. Can we do tomorrow?

I am on my way to my hotel to crash and sleep. I will be rested by then. Text me a time and I will find my way there.

Just be careful in the snow, you Wendlyn people cannot cope with our levels.

I will see you tomorrow, menace.

Aelin squealed in delight and in silence she thanked the weather for stranding her in airport.

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