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the-stray-storyteller · 2 years

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Defenders : Chapter 2

Warnings : none

Chapter 1 Chapter 3

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Day 2

Location : Red Hook Dock, Brooklyn, New York City

Venatrix climbed out of the boat sticking to the shadows of the harbour. She started to count her disadvantages. Problems that needed to be solved.

“One, I have no idea where I am,” she muttered as she ran in a random direction. The first problem was an easy fix.

“Two, how do I get to Los Angeles,” this one would take some time to plan and relied on where she was at the moment. She would probably need to forge a lot of documents if she was travelling illegally. She didn’t even have a birth certificate.

“Three, I need food,” she told herself when she heard her stomach rumbling.

She kept running, a child walking through a place like this all alone would look suspicious. Venatrix took in long even breaths as she sprinted across the harbour. She halted to a stop at the sight of a fence, a small road beyond it. Maybe she could find a bus station, she did have a lot of stolen money at hand. She could take the bus to the nearest airport and sneak into the plane, which wouldn't be the first time she snuck into a plane. Venatrix took a few steps back before vaulting over the fence.

She looked at the brick building, the word “Tesla” on top of the door. She peered through the glass doors to see a dozen sleek cars parked next to each other. She looked around the place curiously, this was the first time she went outside by herself without a comm in her ears. A symbol attached to a pole near the building held the words ‘Summit st’, where the hell was that?

“You lost?” her head turned to the driver of a truck which had stopped. She took a moment to take in the situation. The truck was a dirty green and it stank of flies and compost. The man was huge, white face with pink splotches framed by a scruffy beard.

She took in his accent. New yorker. She might be in the right country. There was still a chance the man had travelled. She quickly crossed out that thought after realising what his job was. She had to be in the US.

“Hello, a little away from home,” she replied. The words scraped through her throat coming out rough. She really needed to talk more.

“I will give you a lift, just tell me where you live,” he opened the door next to him. Venatrix calculated the risk. If a fight were to break out the man had the advantage of strength while she had the advantage of speed and agility. If she got in and fought him inside the truck the outcome would be unpredictable.

“I have never seen a kid think so much,” the driver said after a while.

“Is that bad?” Venatrix asked, deciding to climb in.

“No. Hungry? I still have an extra sandwich,” he pointed at a red lunch box. She should probably eat it, who knows when she will get to eat again, speaking of that…

“Take me to the nearest supermarket.”

“Um..your parent work there?” He handed over the sandwich to her.

“Yes,” she lied.

“You sure it is the nearest supermarket?” he asked, eyebrows scrunching up with worry.

“Very.”

“Okay then, let's go.”

Venatrix tugged the seat belt clasping it to the lock and then proceeded to take the first bite out of the sandwich. You couldn’t even call it a bite, she had taken a small nibble and moved it back and forth over her tongue, ready to spit it out if she detected any drug, poison or anything on it. Once satisfied the sandwich was safe to eat, she swallowed the whole thing.

“Hungry aren’t you?” the trucker laughed. Venatrix shot him a confused look.

“The consumption of carbohydrates,nutrients and other food groups for a human is essential for their health, why is it funny?”

“No.. I was just saying…”the trucker fumbled slightly confused, “kid how old are you?”

“Nine,” she answered but she wasn’t completely sure.

“Smart, real smart. Want some H2O?” He took a hand off the wheel to offer her a water bottle. She grabbed it, following the same process she had used for the sandwich to see if it was safe to consume. She wondered why the man had called it by its molecular formula rather than its common name.

It must be one of those jokes they told me about!

“Thankyou for the dihydrogen monoxide,” she said back, looking at the man hoping for a smile or a laugh. Instead she got a baffled expression.

“What is dihy…whatever that is you said?”

“Dihydrogen monoxide is the systematic name for water, you said H2O instead of using the common name so I assumed it was a joke and not to mention dihydrogen monoxide is actually quite dangerous…..” Venatrix shut her mouth, back at home they didn’t like it when she blabbered.

“Kid you are making me feel really dumb over here,” the trucker smiled back. Venatrix’s heart did a little involuntary victory dance, he had smiled and it meant her joke had worked.

Success!

The man pulled over at the store.

“Here you go, need any help finding your folks?” he asked as she jumped off the truck.

“No, I can see them from here,” she lied, acting like she had spotted someone through the glass doors. She turned back to the driver.

“Thankyou, goodbye,” she bid farewell, turning around and walking into the supermarket. She heard the engine growl as he drove away.

She got a lot of odd looks as she walked around the store in amazement unaware that her mouth was open. Her steps were slow and she wasn’t nearly as vigilant as she wanted to be. There were just so many things. Things she had never seen or heard of. She stuck her head into the refrigerators staring at the tubs of ice cream. She had heard of it but never tasted in and she had definitely not known there were so many flavours. She pulled herself out of it and pressed the back of her hand to the cold tip of her nose. She needed to get her priorities straight.

Venatrix really wished she could get her head in the game but it was proving harder than usual. She stood there in the aisle full of bread. Milk bread, brown bread, sweet bread, long bread, bread with bits of fruit in it, bread with chocolate in it. She stood there like an idiot staring at it not moving an inch. Why was there so much bread?

“Um..need any help?” one of the shop attendants asked. Venatrix’s brain short-circuited. It wasn't meant to short circuit especially not over bread.

“Bread,” was the only thing that slipped out of mouth, a little breathlessly even if she hadn’t done anything strenuous. She quickly walked away a little embarrassed.

She picked up a basket making a list of things she needed. She dropped three bottles of water. It was a very important thing. She searched for food which she could store for longer terms, preferably rich in carbohydrates, energy bars and cornflakes. She had stared suspiciously at the cup noodles for a good amount of time before deciding she could take three. She picked up a notepad and a pen just in case and then she stood in front of the juice section. She had never drank juice and she didn’t think she was allowed to, the same thing went for the cup noodles but she had taken those because she could store it, it was easy to prepare and seemed enough to satisfy her appetite. Maybe they didn’t have to know she had tasted juice but if they found it she was in major trouble.

Risk or no risk?

She stared up at the bottles filled with orange liquid. She thought about it, oranges were healthy but then again she didn’t know if it actually contained the fruit.

“Need help getting that down honey?” A young woman wearing a shirt with the name of the supermarket reached up to the high shelf and dropped the juice bottle into her basket. She gave Venatrix a smile. Did everyone smile so much over here? People back at home rarely smiled and if they did they had a sharpness to them, like a predator who had just found their next victim.

To her horror, the woman then proceeded to reach out her hand towards her. The muscles of her arms instinctively tightened and her hands curled to form fists ready to spring out into a fight. She relaxed in confusion when she realised the woman held no force behind her movement. There was absolutely no way she could hurt her moving that slow. Venatrix leaned away the closer the hand got. The moment she could not bend away any further without looking suspicious the hand nested on her head and then the woman moved it back and forth messing up her hair and walked away.

What was that? It…it felt nice?

She wanted more people to do that thing to her hair. Venatrix looked down at her basket to see the bottle of orange liquid, she looked at ingredients in tiny print. There was orange in it, even if it was only twenty percent. Now that it was in her basket she didn’t want to put it back, they didn’t have to know. A thought struck her, it wasn’t one of her best decisions but she decided to do it.

The high sugar content will give her instant energy and it was good to bring her sugar levels back to normal if she hadn’t eaten. It is what she told herself as she dropped in four candy bars.

Easy to carry around and an excellent source of carbohydrates she told herself as she put in a packet of chips. She also relaxed a little when she saw the packets had the american ‘flavored’ instead of british ‘flavoured’ she was in the right country but it still left the problem that America was huge.

“Oranges help to make collagen which in turn helps in healing wounds and it also boosts the immune system and that is why I am buying it, no other reason,” she told the cashier as she handed the orange juice over to him.

The cashier gave her a few odd looks and asked where her parents were, to which she replied she was here with her brother and he had handed her the money while he went to talk to his friends.

“You going on a camping trip or something?” the cashier asked.

“Yes,” she lied, if the cashier thought that the others might too might as well stick with that.

“Usually kids take a lot more sweets and chips.”

“Dad already bought everything, just needed a few other things, and said we could pick a few other things.”

“Okay then,” he handed her a tote bag filled with her shopping.

“Do you know where me and my brother can find a duffel bag, our old one kinda has a huge hole in it.” Venatrix had concluded that travelling with a tote bag would come across as strange and a duffel would be much easier. The cashier gave her some directions and wished her a happy trip.

Attaining a duffel bag was easy enough to find and she kept up the same story she made up in the store. Her next stop, somewhere she could find transport.

She was in New Jersey and Los Angeles was all the way across the country. The positive side of her mind cheered that they were at least in the right country but the negative side made her yell something. She shouted out a word she had several of her trainers say when they got angry, she never knew what it meant but it felt like the right time to use it. Turns out whatever it meant she wasn’t supposed to say it because she got yelled at by any adult who was within hearing radius. She continued to stare at the bus routes weighing her options. A flight would take six to eight hours and a bus would take sixty-nine hours. Money wouldn’t be a problem, she had nicked over two thousand dollars from the dead people back at home.

She caught a taxi.

“Where to?” the man asked. Venatrix got the faint smell of tobacco from the car.

“Parents?” He looked around for the missing adults

“Already there, some issues came up, they told me to take a taxi.”

“John F. Kennedy International airport please.” The taxi driver shut up and gave her a crooked smile when she handed him the wad of money.

#writblr #my writing #writers on tumblr #writers #writers and poets #stories #fiction #teen writer #orginal oc #aspiring writer #adventure #superhero story #superhero wip #science fiction #original story #original work

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captainyn · 1 year

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okay so over like the past three days ive written notes for a silly little teen superhero team story and maybe it's a bit of a generic idea but i think it's fun. i guess there's no overarching plot for now? just silly little chapters of a bunch of powerful, gay, traumatised, hilarious teenagers who have to tackle natural and supernatural issues.

i have some reservations because it might suck ass and i regret posting it and then i get known for posting that one shitty teen titans rip off fic but also like...im 16?? i kinda don't think i should give a shit about making crap stories as a teenager, y'know?

uhm, lemme know if you want me to post what it's about and the main cast and all that ! still not sure if i'd ever actually turn it into a real thing but it'd still be fun to talk about !

#superhero #teenagers #teen fiction #fiction #action #superhero story #original story #original character #original fiction #superhero team #teen romance #ngl i have basically no followers so idk how to tag this to get it out there and get people's opinions

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kbkirtley · 14 minutes

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When he returns to the crime scene, will Eddie find the answers he’s looking for? Or will he just be confronted by new questions beyond anything he’s previously encountered as The Street Rat? Find out in this week’s episode at KirtleyBooks.com!

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lachkegeetanjali · 4 months

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Teenage Wishes - Teenage Wishes. (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1404915572-teenage-wishes?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=lachkegeetanjali&wp_originator=XcWPlJuMqvNxCJm5%2F89q4SHXHx7w7PJdgqc1BnUSTU5H1Fv9b%2Bq5tYEFo4C86BgeulnfnWZ4gZPkgdNgsAa3w%2Bu0u5UHnv5AEGQXJyZfjxPc0vUaVtkFVUHPcTnyxJiR A simple yet profound tale about teenagers saving the world.

#apocalypse #kids #superhero #teen #teenagers #teenfiction #worldending #youngadult #youth #teen-fiction #books #wattpad #amreading

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corbiecomic · 6 months

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The new edition of Corbie issue 1 drops TOMORROW, on the fifth anniversary of our battling bird gal's first adventure! "The Power" has been given a major makeover, but rest assured that Sadie's insatiable desire for BURNING JUSTICE is still present and correct. Look for more details on how you can get your mitts on a digital copy later this weekend!

#comic books #comics #indie comics #webcomics #webcomic #comics on tumblr #comic #girls with glasses #superhero #superheroes #urban fantasy #teen fiction

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daydreamerdrew · 8 months

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The Defenders (1972) #89

#I haven’t read any of the old Patsy teen girl comics #I didn’t think that there was going to be any relation between that Patsy and this Patsy #but I think that this is an interesting way to approach it #so that that image does exist in-universe for Patsy #and it’s a fictional concept that she’s been pressured into conforming to #I wonder how this would come across to Val #obviously her feminism isn’t very fleshed out #but I assume that those teen girl comics were pretty regressive/promoted something very specific #also I think the way that Patsy’s previous modeling career has been portrayed in this book as not that it was uncomfortable for her #because it was what her mom wanted or because she was a tomboy at heart #but because she wasn’t fulfilled by it #and then found that she really enjoyed being a superhero #she hasn’t been notably not feminine #she also hasn’t been uncomfortable with romance #in fact she’s been having some fun flirting #but I don’t think she’s interested in like having a traditional marriage at this point in her life #like her ex that she divorced seemed to have wanted from her #marvel #patsy walker #kyle richmond #my posts #comic panels

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the-novel-approach-reviews · 1 year

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Review: Harley Quinn: Reckoning by Rachel Allen

Review: Harley Quinn: Reckoning by Rachel Allen #AmReading #BookTwitter

Title: Harley Quinn: Reckoning Series: DC Icons Series: Book One Author: Rachel Allen Publisher: Random House Books for Young Readers Length: 390 Pages Category: YA/Teen Fiction Rating: 3.5 Stars At a Glance: Reckoning is all about the Girl Power. Rachel Allen unapologetically instills this as the foundation of her plot, and embracing that is a significant influence on the reader’s alliance with…

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#3.5 stars #Antiheroes #DC Icons #Rachel Allen #Random House for Young Readers #Superheroes/Supervillains #Teen/YA Fiction

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marvelousm · 1 year

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The Trip That Revealed My Secret (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/story/322667485-the-trip-that-revealed-my-secret?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_myworks&wp_uname=MichelleT530&wp_originator=XV216QuGTxoyu%2FaS9QOT5ivjyhSMaum2VKL9f7wbqz6IKwT0uctfiwoWjXRMrqOp60xRSbL0NlOTc3Hy6kRPeuaql4KQmI9oBZ7xbbcYJBFQHihFLe0qcwPictcWF4rv 20 year old Vanessa and her boyfriend celebrate their first anniversary together, by going to popular places in Ontario. One of their stops, is at the CN Tower in Toronto. While there, Vanessa's deepest and darkest secret slips out in front of her partner and tourists.

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teaboot · 1 month

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Different actors and artists I mistakenly thought were the same person for a really long time:

Adam Sandler and Ben Stiller (? Tall face dad man? Comedy. Brown hair blue eyes. Early 2000's Blockbuster Video regulars.)

Kiera Knightly and Natalie Portman (Scary and pretty like an android that would eject me from the space shuttle)

Kiera Knightly and Kristen Stewart (K-names, queer kid kryptonite, pretty)

Justin Timberlake and Orlando Bloom (Pretty face white man, teens love him)

Ryan Reynolds and Paul Rudd (Thin face brown hair white guy? Comedy? Superhero with red suit. Immature dad vibes. "Pull my finger" type energy)

Celine Dion and Shakira (Pretty and tall multilingual blonde singers?)

Michelle Pfeifer and Uma Thurman (Odd name? Blonde? 2010 era songs about them)

Gene Wilder and Mike Myers (Cannot explain)

Individual actors I always thought were two different actors:

Lucy Liu in "Kill Bill" and Lucy Liu in everything else (I keep thinking Kill Bill came out in the early 70's and Lucy Liu does NOT look older than my mom)

Natalie Dormer (Though she was a bunch of different blonde women who looked alike but it's just her)

Actors and artists who I cannot recall ever seeing in my life, whose appearances I make up in my head whenever people talk about them:

Uma Thurman (Blonde? Very pretty. Red lipstick. Like Marilyn Monroe but a sharper chin.)

Stevie Wonder (A handsome Black gentleman in his late forties. Always in a tuxedo.)

Gilbert Godfrey (Peewee Herman??)

Celebrities I can picture in my mind with absolute photographic clarity:

Mike Tyson

Doug Jones

Miss Piggy

Public figures whose names I've heard of through pop culture osmosis but retained zero information about:

Roger Whittaker

Grace Earl Jones

Casey Anthony (??? A person??)

Akon

Greta Herwig (I think that's a person)

Tony Montana (Fictional???)

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intotheweird · 2 years

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George Peréz and Marv Wolfman’s New Teen Titans. Art by Travis G. Moore.

#comics #comicart #scifi #scifination #fiction #art #superheroes #vintagecomics #dc comics #science fiction #illustration #teen titans

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the-stray-storyteller · 1 year

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Defenders : Chapter 5

Warning: Bullying, and being unhappy with the way you look (I can't fricking remember the word), slight language

Chapter 1 Chapter 4 Chapter 6

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1 Week

Location : Middle Village, Queens

Ivy let out an annoyed groan when nothing came out of the foundation bottle no matter how much she squeezed it. She still had to cover up the ghastly amount of freckles on her arms. She looked into the bathroom mirror, a sigh escaping her body. Even after a couple of months of learning how to wear foundation the twelve-year-old still couldn’t get it right. She wasn’t sure if it was the shade of the foundation, the brand or just her skill; she couldn’t get it to look right on her skin. She threw the empty bottle into the dustbin and walked out of the bathroom.

“Hey, at least there was enough in the bottle to cover up my face,” she mumbled, pulling out the first full-sleeved baggy shirt she could find in her closet, “ I can’t exactly cover my face with clothing now can I?” She grabbed her school bag and walked down the stairs. She let her eyes trail the frames on the wall. PhD certificates belonging to both her mom and dad, photos, drawings she made when she was three and every single blue ribbon she won. Ivy let her eyes linger on a picture of her mom for a few seconds, tracing her happy smile and chasing the memory behind the image. She could smell the tang of citrus fruit coming from the kitchen.

Her eyes strayed to the newspaper on the dining table, she didn’t bother to read it.

“Mornin’ dad.” Ivy let out a small smile, watching her dad pour her a glass of freshly made orange juice. Her dad looked up and his smile lasted only a couple of seconds. The corners of his mouth turned down into a frown when he noticed that she had covered up her freckles. Ethan Lynn was quick to hide the frown disguising it with a smile and pushing his thick glasses up his nose . Ivy made herself a bowl of cereal, shoving spoonfuls into her mouth. She chugged down the orange juice, pushed her glasses up her nose and took a deep breath forcing herself out of the door.

She waited for her school bus, fingers fiddling with the straps on her bag. Her hair fell in front of her face, she didn’t push it away. The morning was cold, with only a couple of streams of sunlight passing through the clouds. The bus was crowded. Most people weren’t awake yet and had slept off with their heads against the window. The boy beside Ivy was reading an article on his phone about the Enhanced, the mutated super-powered human beings. The title ‘Should They Be Contained?’ was staring at her in bold letters. Ivy craned her neck slightly to see more of what was written. With a lot of difficulties, she caught a couple of words like dangerous, unpredictable and power hungry before the boy switched to youtube.

That's when the bus stopped and she climbed in. Ivy would never forget that day. The girl’s footsteps were unnervingly silent. Her shoulders squared and dark eyes scanned everybody. The students turned away from her gaze. Everyone shifted awkwardly making sure there was no place left on their seats. Jealousy twisted in Ivy’s chest. It wasn’t fair that this girl was so confident on her first day.

“Are you a boy?” Someone’s mocking shout reached her ears. The girl’s short pudding-coloured hair was misleading. She turned her head towards the sound. Ivy waited eagerly for some sort of anger or insult to flash across her face but nothing came.

“No. I identify as a female.” Her voice was flat. The jealousy turned to spite.

Ivy stared at the girl searching for any sort of emotion. Her face was unreadable like a rock. The type of unreadable that reminded Ivy of Captain Ray Holt from Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Ivy stared a little too long, the girl had made her way to Ivy’s seat and Ivy had forgotten that the seat next to hers was empty. She sat down. Ivy turned her head towards the window trying her best to ignore her.

“Hello.” The same flat voice, Ivy wondered who she was talking to. She felt a tap on her shoulder.

The girl was talking to her. Shit.

“Hello,” she repeated this time waving stiffly.

“Hi. Ivy Lynn.” Ivy turned back to the window not wanting to continue the conversation any further. The girl however did not take the hint and continued to speak. She had started talking about the reviews the school had gotten. Her sentences were short and cut to the point. Ivy listened and nodded out of politeness. A head turned back from the seat in front of her. The boy’s smile was lopsided and Ivy shrunk into her seat knowing what would happen now.

“Don’t waste your time on her, idiot can’t spell things properly and probably can’t understand you either.” Ivy felt the cold laugh of his peers sink into her. The girl was probably judging her now. Ivy imagined her cold eyes glinting with amusement and a laugh starting to bubble at the base of her throat. She put her head down feeling her heartbeat start to increase and the walls starting to cave in. Ivy swallowed hard trying to prepare herself for the inevitable mockery.

“Hello, what is your name?” Ivy’s head snapped up at the polite greeting.

“Liam Quinn, yours?”

“Ren Weiting.” The way she had said her name sounded like her tongue was foreign to the syllables. Her last and first names didn’t match in Ivy’s head properly. Liam hummed in thought.

“Why don’t you sit with us, Ren?” He pointed at the free seat next to him.

“The bus driver told me not to get up while we were moving.”

“It really doesn't matter. Bus is moving slower than a snail anyways.”

“I would rather not get into trouble.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugged but continued to talk with her. Ivy sank into her seat again, happy to be ignored. Occasionally she would eavesdrop on their conversation. A very one-sided conversation led by Liam. But the girl talked enough for Ivy to find out she was older than the ten-year-old by two years and she had been homeschooled. Liam kept talking non-stop and if Ivy didn’t know any better Ren seemed a bit lost. When the bus stopped she quickly ran away, hiding in the crowd of students.

English had Ivy in tears. The first problem was the substitute teacher’s handwriting, she was not used to it. When she finally managed to read all the topics the teacher came and scolded her for wasting time. Now her page was covered in scratch marks and illegible handwriting making Ivy think that a chicken with ink-covered feet had danced all over her page. She angrily scratched out another word she believed that she had spelt wrong. The frustration sent her mind into a volatile state. Her fingers rapped on the table earning annoyed looks from the people sitting next to her. She bit the inside of her cheek, feeling the skin peel off slightly. Ivy could feel the teacher’s disapproving stare at her, she could feel the teacher ready to get up and yell at her once again this time louder. Ivy looked over the rim glasses, the teacher's shape blurry to her eyes. She could barely make out the teacher slowly getting up from her seat even so she could feel the searing touch of her livid gaze on her skin. Ivy bolted up before the teacher could open her mouth.

“Washroom!” It came out quickly and louder than she had expected.

“May I use the washroom?” She tried again, going for a slower and gentler tone. The teacher raised an eyebrow, keeping Ivy waiting for an answer. Ivy felt her body relax when the teacher pulled out a hall pass from her desk. She covered her sheet making sure no one could peek in and see her messy work and made her way to receive the hall pass.

She splashed the cold water on her face, silently wondering which stall she would hide in. Ivy didn’t usually try to avoid school like this most of the time she did her best. Today however was just a bad day. First, her foundation had gotten over. Then someone spilled water all over her. After that, a student had borrowed her homework to copy it and never gave it back so she could submit it. Now that thief was nowhere to be found and her teacher was angry at her. She splashed her face once again and looked down into the sink only to see peach-coloured water run down the drain.

“Didn’t I buy a waterproof foundation?” She muttered. Ivy put her glasses back on and looked in the mirror. The foundation was now patchier than before and her hair was all over the place.

“Which asshole said redheads look good?” Ivy patted her frizzy nest-like hair down with water trying to tame it as much as possible.

“Beauty is both an opinion and a relative term.” Ivy heard a scream, it might have been her own. It was probably her own seeing that no one else was over here. Her head whipped towards one of the closed stalls. How long had that door been closed again?

“Who’s there?” Ivy heard a latch come undone and Ren stepped out from the stall.

“How long have you been there?”

“About twenty-five minutes,” the girl took small steps towards her, “I don’t like Liam.” Her sentences were short and honest. Ivy didn’t know much about her. She didn’t know what Liam had done to make an enemy. However, she did know that no girl who spent twenty-five minutes in the school’s bathroom was okay. Ivy walked to the corner and sunk down to the floor, pulling her knees up to her chest. The silence was uncomfortable. Ivy could hear water dripping from a leaky tap. The bathroom had a distant smell of tobacco. Ren stood still observing her silently. Ivy had first labelled her stillness as overconfidence but now there was something tense about it. Something that seemed to push against the thick atmosphere. Her stillness was not poise, it was obliviousness and confusion. Ivy bit her cheek trying to push back a glad smile. This girl was most likely just as much as nervous as herself. Ivy patted the floor on her side. Ren sat down, the cowlicks in her hair flattening against the wall.

“I am not stupid, just so you know.” Ivy started she didn’t want the girl to think anything else. She would have to explain her condition to her.

“I know, you wouldn’t be in high school if you were. I have observed that Liam Quinn tends to take the vaguest understanding of a concept and derive a false conclusion from it. Is it a learning disability?” Ivy kept completely still processing the way Ren talked.

“Mild dyslexia.” Ren hummed in response. Ivy waited for her to say something, waiting for her to start a conversation. Ren kept her mouth shut. Ivy concluded that she would have to do it. She went through her memories trying to grasp any information about Ren on which she could start a conversation. Ren was homeschooled, wasn’t she?

“What do you think of school?”

“One observation will leave space for errors and won’t give an accurate reading.” Ivy suppressed another smile, this girl was a weirdo like her.

“I suppose it does not,” Ivy wracked her brains for something else, “Okay why are you in the bathroom?” Ivy wanted to take the words back, they were a little too straightforward.

“I don’t know what to do.” A straightforward answer to a straightforward question.

“Good idea coming to the bathrooms then. It's a good escape.” Ivy turned her head towards the younger and found Ren staring at her. Ren brought up her hand and pushed Ivy’s glasses up her nose. Ivy touched her glasses gently, not sure how to respond to the gesture.

“Thanks. I guess?”

Ivy tried again for a conversation, taking note of how she was the one who had to keep it going. She observed how Ren would only talk when she was questioned. She would always give short answers, to the point and never deviating from the topic. Just like her answers Ivy needed to ask specific questions. Ivy really couldn’t tell how much Ren liked her but she was starting to like the ten-year-old.

They talked for what seemed like forever. They talked in the school’s bathroom, sitting on the floor with their backs against the wall. They missed several periods and the sound of the school bell. Ren let out smiles at Ivy’s jokes. Ivy showed polite yet genuine laughs at Ren’s slightly stiff ones. They stopped when a girl in her senior year stepped into the bathroom. Her mouth curled up in disgust at the sight of the two girls. Her eyes traced Ivy’s figure eyeing her full-sleeved dress. “Aren’t you a little too fat for that?” She pointed at Ivy. Behind her, the students rushing towards the cafeteria could be heard. Ivy got ready to walk away but Ren spoke up.

“Why did you get reprimanded for ‘vulgar actions’ by my science teacher in the corridor?” The girl opened and closed her mouth, unable to answer the question. Ren on the other hand asked it as if it were a perfectly innocent question. Ivy snorted, immediately clasping a hand over her mouth. Ren’s stomach growled loudly and Ivy used it as an excuse. “I think we need to get to the cafeteria before they are left with only scraps.” She grabbed Ren and pulled her out of the washroom.

The moment they stepped out, they were pulled towards the cafeteria by the sea of students. Ivy heard Ren’s stomach growl loudly again. Ivy let out a small laugh.

“Didn’t take you for a person with such an appetite.” Ren was petite for her age. She looked even smaller in that oversized team jacket she was wearing, the name Aloisi printed on the back. The thing was old and worn out. Ivy wondered who it belonged to.

“Didn’t eat breakfast today.”

“What? Why?”

“I was in a hurry.”

“Okay let's go get you some lunch then.” She looped her arms through the younger’s and dragged her awkwardly to lunch.

Ivy closed the door to her house with her foot. Her feet brushed against the soft carpet. The smell of the flowers she had planted outside lingered in the hallway. She heard the crunch of the newspaper from inside. Her dad had stayed home today.

“You home gardener?”

“Ye!” Ivy yelled back smiling at her nickname. She rushed into the living room and wrapped her hands around her dad, locking him in a hug.

“Do you mind getting some tomatoes from the garden? I was thinking we could have soup for dinner.”

“Of course.”

The garden was a familiar place to her. The feel of the damp soil on her hands, the touch of the afternoon sun on her neck and the smell of fertiliser. Her mom had helped her make it and her mom used to help in keeping it in top condition. The backyard garden was her safe place. Repotting plants and watering the roots always calmed her nerves. She knelt near the tomatoes and brought her hand up to one. Ivy frowned. She could see green and orange patches and they weren’t nearly as big as she wanted them to be. Ivy liked to wait for her plants to grow by themselves but she also wanted to have her dad’s famous tomato soup for dinner. Maybe bring some for Ren the next day.

Ivy pressed her hand down into the soil, letting her fingers slip into it and closed her eyes. She let the world fade away and she felt the energy of the plant flowing up her fingers like a little stream of water. She spoke to it softly under her breath asking the tomatoes to grow. When she opened her eyes the unripe tomatoes had turned plump and red. The plants had grown half a foot taller and the grass around her feet had become wilder.

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locusfandomtime · 9 months

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fake book covers based on Cub’s museum gift shop and the signs he posted with fake book titles! This was a lot of fun haha. I know there are more fake books, and now he’s getting signed books from hermits, so I plan on making more soon! May even make a Reddit account just to post these guys on the subreddit

design notes under cut!

The Diamond Pillar Saga: Hotguy(TM) Flies Again - this title evoked such a visceral image of something you’d find in a Scholastic book fair so I went for sort of pre-teen superhero action novel, the kind with a bunch of pictures and stupid chapter titles. I imagine in-universe Scar is trying to sell as much Hotguy merch as possible so whilst he has stuff for the adults (shirtless calendars) he’d also have comic books and novels for the kids. There’s a concorp logo because I like to think the Hotguy brand is owned by concorp and it was just a cool touch

Grian’s Theory of The Mind - have you ever seen books on like psychology and breaking habits and behaviour, that kind of stuff? They always look like this. There’s a yellow background, a simple abstract design, a bunch of book awards/reviews, and a single sentence hook. This one was the easiest and most fun to design!

Joe Hills: Transformative Poems - this was based on the “Joe Hills Poetry Corner”. Transformative poems is from “transformative works” meaning… fanfiction basically. Joe has written fanfic before and I thought an Iliad/Hermit crossover would be something he’d do. Joe made the cover himself so it has a dyed leather cover and a simple design. He tried to ask Cleo for a review so he could put one on the front but she was kinda mean about it and laughed at him so he wrote a fake one instead

Ren the King: A Complicated Legacy - this one had no explicit author but I decided Cleo made the most logical sense. Historical non-fiction books often have these B+W photo backgrounds with some dramatic, fancy text overtop, so I painted the Crastle and added then messed around with text. There’s a reduced sticker over Cleo’s name because this is Cub’s gift shop and he wouldn’t want to give her credit (but still wants to stock up his shop)

#posting this on the alt since this isn’t really my normal art #locus fandom time #hermitcraft #hermitblr #gtws #gtwscar #goodtimeswithscar #grian #Hotguy #crastle #Joe hills #hermitcraft fanart #book cover #book design #art #artists on tumblr #hermitcraft s9 #fanart #locus art time

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kbkirtley · 20 minutes

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Let me introduce you to the White Knight’s billionaire supervillain, Matthew Fox, through similar characters/character inspirations!

If you’re a fan of villains like Smallville’s Lionel Luthor, the Arrowverse Malcolm Merlyn, Titans’ Deathstroke, or Justice League’s Lex Luthor, you might find a new favorite villain in The White Knight!

The White Knight is available for pre-order right now! Learn more at KirtleyBooks.com!

#fantasy books #superhero books #sci fi and fantasy #dc comics #superhero fiction #smallville #arrowverse #arrow #malcolm merlyn #lex luthor #lionel luthor #teen titans #deathstroke #young justice #justice league #renegades #renegades fandom

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morallyinept · 2 months

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Heyday Hero - A Valentine's Story - Mature!Marcus Moreno

This is a story set in the Heyday Hero Universe. You might wanna read that one first if you haven't already.

Summary: Marcus pulls out all the stops to make your first Valentine's Day together really super!

Pairing: Mature!Marcus Moreno x Mature/CurvyF!Reader (No name of reader. It’s you, bub. However Reader is of a similar age to Marcus, who I have made 52 in this story, and Reader is more on the curvier side in body type. Otherwise a blank slate. Images for aesthetic, no reference to Reader.)

Word Count: 7.2k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me.”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/Triggers: Both Marcus & Reader have REAL bodies, and very real middle age spread/coming to terms with ageing & feeling obsolete.

Explicit: Established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/oral M & F receiving/fingering - Marcus has superpower hands⚡️/lots of kissing/schmaltzy romance/Marcus doesn't fuck, he makes love/all the flowers and pancake mush you can swallow/Marcus being the perfect, romantic fool

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: Happy Valentine's Day, lovelies! 🥰 I just had to revisit these two love birds on this heart day. Love you all so much! 😘

MAIN MASTERLIST | MARCUS MORENO MASTERLIST

HEYDAY HERO <- Main Story

Enjoy! 🖤

The early morning Austin sun casts a warm glow over Marcus's garden as he ambles among the clusters of vibrant blooms swaying gently in the Texan breeze.

Clipping blush peonies with thoughtful precision, his mind is preoccupied with thoughts of Missy and you; the two women in his life showering him with more love in abundance than he could ever wish for.

Fragrant petals whisper to him in the gentle flurry, carrying the promise of a special day he’s woken up to. A day that, for so long, had seemed so mundane - another day ending in a Y. So pointlessly lonely. Just ordinary in his solace without a partner to share the topical mushiness with, even if it was rife with capitalist sentiment sponsored by the fat cats at Hallmark.

Lost in contemplation as he prunes and snips at stems, Marcus's thoughts are a blend of affection and giddy anticipation, and he can’t wait to see his daughter smile as she inhales in the perfumed fragrance of the florals he’s chosen just for her.

Despite the lack of a romantic partner since the passing of his wife and Missy's mother, his Valentine’s Days since were about showering Missy with love and appreciation, something that she initially resisted, stomping into her unruly teens and it being branded “uncool” to spend time with her father fussing over her as she was reaching maturity.

But he still upheld that tradition nonetheless.

Now a headstrong woman in her thirties, she could appreciate that effort and often sought it out willingly as she would snuggle in closer to him when watching a movie together after a hard day of fighting the world’s enemies and threats, and he would smile as she fell asleep snoring into the soft cotton of his t-shirt, and subsequently leaving a patch of drool on it.

But as much as the superhero father-daughter duo loved one another, Marcus missed the companionship of a partner he could shower with hopelessly romantic sentiment and love of a more intimate kind.

That was until he met you.

Over the course of the last six months, yours and Marcus’s relationship has bloomed and flourished, much like his garden, evolving into a softly hedonistic timeline woven with shared experiences, laughter, and genuine affection.

Despite the exciting journey you’re both on, you both carry unspoken anxieties that occasionally cast shadows on the picturesque canvas of your budding romance.

Your dates were a delightfully regular mix of adventures - whether exploring museums, cozying up at home with a homemade dinner and a classic movie, or exploring the wonderland of nature.

And Marcus still can’t get your first meeting out of his mind. The date that solidified it all for him.

He was mesmerised by you, and still is, fearing some days he’ll wake up and realise it’s all been some wondrous dream where he subconsciously created and crafted you from the moulds of his inert loneliness.

He glances over to the sun loungers by the pool, and his cock pulls tight in his jeans, remembering the two of you sat in one together, listening to your words as you read from your book to him, only a few days ago as the sun set into a fiery orange sky.

He can smell the scent of your skin again now as the tepid heat warmed it as he had you in his arms, basking in the dying rays as he buried himself inside of you from behind. His nose running tracks against the back of your neck as his fingers drew circles on your clit, bringing you to soaring heights without ever leaving the ground.

With the book discarded to the patio, his big hands were resting and stroking on the crinkles of your tummy skin as he whispered how beautiful you are, nipping on your earlobe as the sky blushed above you, an expansive voyeur to your lovemaking.

The gentle, yet enthusiastic, pace of your relationship allows you to savour each moment, creating a foundation of tentative understanding and trust. Yet, as the seasons change, the passage of time invokes subtle insecurities that bleed in uninvited.

It’s human nature, he supposes. Marcus, a retired superhero, whose body had once effortlessly defied gravity, now finds himself grappling with the harsh realities of ageing. The occasional ache and stiffness serve as reminders of the physical toll his heroic past has taken on him.

You, too, are confronted with your own insecurities when you stand in front of the mirror, naked after a shower, and notice things aren't as supple or as perky as they used to be. The mirage of eternal youth begins to dissipate, sands falling in the glass, replaced by the acknowledgement of lines that trace the stories of your laughter, and the gradual changes of a sinking gravity that comes with the eventual movement of time.

As the months towards his retirement from the Heroics had unfolded, Marcus began to notice the subtle changes in his body - the creaky echoes of years spent in the pursuit of justice. The once effortless movements that defined his superhero heydays were now accompanied by a quiet reminder of the toll taken on his physical form.

Morning stiffness became a familiar companion as Marcus greeted the dawn - a stiffness of a different, less exciting kind.

The pops in his joints were like a cacophony of irritating reminders, a natural clicking chorus that played out, despite him being an unwilling conductor, as he rose from his bed. Aches manifested in areas that once bore the brunt of intense physical exertion.

His shoulders, which had once easily carried the weight of the world, now bore the imprints of past struggles. Welted, faded scars of times when he came close to exchanging his life so others could live, adorned him. White, little lines of jagged lightning against the golden skin that you would run your fingers or tongue over, bringing about a sensual healing in the layers of his marred epidermis with your explorative and worshipping ministrations.

On some days, Marcus found himself pausing to stretch, a conscious effort to ease the tightness that settled into his muscles. The warm-up routine, once a prelude to high-flying acrobatic adventures, now became a ritual to navigate the nuances of a body shaped by years of gritty heroism.

Yet, despite the stark, physical reminders of ageing, Marcus approached each day with resilience and a quiet acceptance. The aches were not signals of defeat but rather markers of a life well-lived, a testament to the now grey hero who had faced challenges head-on and emerged with stories of grandeur etched into the fabric of his being.

Observant and empathetic, you stood by Marcus's side as he navigated these physical aches and pains on the mornings you woke up together.

Your gentle massages and understanding glances spoke volumes, creating a space where the vulnerabilities of ageing became threads that wove you both closer together.

He thinks back to the way your hands glide over his body and soon distract him from the aches to another ache weighing heavy between his legs. The more pleasant vareity of morning stiffness.

His ears are soon filled with your gasps and moans as he zones out under the morning sun, thinking back to mornings waking with you wrapped around him as he slipped inside you and worked you both out.

In that tranquil corner of the garden, surrounded by the coveted peace of nature, Marcus confronts the uncertainties, but the happiness he feels quells any of that self-doubt in an instance.

The kitchen, the epicentre of Marcus’s world now, soon becomes a hub of activity as Marcus sets about creating a special morning feast on the day of San Valentín.

The aroma of homemade pancakes fills the air, mingling with the scents of freshly brewed coffee and tarte fruity berries. The vase of peonies adorns the table, adding a touch of colour to the special breakfast spread he’s prepared all morning with love and care.

As Missy enters the kitchen, hair damp and bedraggled, the mild surprise melting away the sleep in her battered eyes, Marcus can't help but beam.

"Happy Valentine's Day, kiddo," he says, presenting her with the hand-cut bouquet.

Missy's eyes light up with unbridled joy as she accepts the vase of flowers with a kiss on the side of his fuzzy face. "Dad, these are beautiful. Thank you."

“Only the best for my muñeca. Sit, I made you some breakfast.” (Doll.)

“You’re not having breakfast with your lovely lady?”

“We’re spending the rest of the day together. I've made plans.” His eyes light up as he says it, pouring out hot coffee.

"Sneaky." Missy smirks.

“This morning is just for you and me.”

“Makes a change not to see you two half-naked and draped all over each other. You know, these walls are paper thin.”

“Shut up.” Marcus says, evidently blushing.

“I ought to file a complaint, I’m sure it violates some building code… loud noises.”

“Or you could just stay at your place?” He suggests with a grin.

“Pffft. That’ll never happen.”

In the days leading up to Missy and you meeting for the first time - which was inevitable really considering how often your paths had almost crossed with Missy using her key at any God given time of day - Marcus hadn’t been able to shake a lingering sense of angst. He found himself caught in the crossroads of two important relationships intermingling in his life, and the fear of you both not getting along tugged at the edges of his erratic thoughts.

As he’d prepared the house for your official get-together, Marcus couldn't help but second guess his decision. What if you didn't hit it off? The worry gnawed at him, the uncertainty of your connection becoming a lead weight on his broad shoulders and making him feel somewhat nauseous at the prospect of facing a choice.

He tried to distract himself with preparations, arranging a small dinner, which soon became over the top due to the stress-cooking that ensued, and ensuring the atmosphere was comfortable.

But every now and then, a wave of anxiety washed over him despite Missy reminding him that he was worrying over nothing.

If she makes you this goofy, Dad, then I already love her… Missy'd remarked as he clattered about clumsily with pans.

When the hour finally arrived, Marcus did his best to hide his apprehension despite his squally gut. As Missy and you exchanged greetings, he observed your interactions with a hopeful, yet anxious, heart.

The initial moments were filled with small talk, and Marcus found himself holding his breath, waiting for a sign that you were connecting, and shucking in deep breaths of oxygen when you subtly reminded him to breathe, observing him turn a shade of purple and giving his thigh a reassuring squeeze.

Of course, Marcus needn't have worried - Missy and you got on like a house on fire.

Laughter began to flow naturally, and conversations unfolded effortlessly. The tension in Marcus's shoulders eased as he witnessed his daughter and new partner finding common ground, especially in teasing him, it appeared.

Marcus smirks as he places a plate under Missy’s nose.

“Heart-shaped, chocolate chip pancakes? You trying to woo me, Dad?”

“Just showing the love for my amazing daughter.”

“Why, what are you after?” Smiling, she pours the raspberry syrup over the stack.

“Nothing. Just want you to know how special you are to me is all.” He mumbles quietly with pink cheeks frazzling under his thick rimmed specs.

"Your love is causing me to gain five pounds." She muses.

“What’s that?” He asks, nodding over to the skin on her shoulder now revealed as she ties back her hair.

She glances down at the rather large and angry bruise and back at her father’s concerned eyes.

“I can handle it, Dad.” She reminds him as he visibly tenses.

“I know. But I’m always going to worry. Even if you are a Moreno badass.”

She laughs and then sighs, pulling her cardigan on and covering up the bruise. “Comes with the territory, right?"

He nods, sadly. "It does."

Missy picks up her fork to dig in and then hesitates. "Did you... did you ever have those days when you thought about throwing in the towel?”

Marcus nods again. “All the time.”

As Marcus reminisces about his past, memories of battles lost and wounds endured flood his mind like unwelcome guests crashing a solemn reunion. There were moments etched in his memory with the vividness of fresh lacerations - times when victory had slipped through his fingers like sand, leaving behind scars that ran deeper than mere flesh and bone.

“How did you keep going? How did you… find the strength?” She sighs and Marcus can only helplessly observe the features of her own face, young, but carrying that weight of the world is starting to age her quicker than he would like.

He remembers the deafening roar of explosions echoing in the night as he fought valiantly against insurmountable odds, only to find himself battered and broken, his spirit and pride bruised more than his body.

There were battles where the enemy's strength seemed limitless, where every blow landed with the force of a freight train, threatening to crush his resolve beneath its weight.

In the aftermath of defeat, Marcus found himself questioning everything he had once believed in. The wounds he bore were not just physical; they were a reflection of the doubts and insecurities that gnawed at the edges of his consciousness.

He considered putting away his katanas many, many times, walking away from the life of a hero and leaving behind the chaos and destruction that seemed to follow in his wake.

But even in the darkest moments of despair, a flicker of hope remained - a stubborn ember that refused to be extinguished. It was the memory of those he had sworn to protect, the faces of innocence that haunted his dreams and whispered words of encouragement in the depths of his despair mid-fight.

Marcus leans over the counter on his arms and pinches a raspberry from Missy’s plate.

“For you. I wanted to make the world a better place for you to grow up in. Safe.”

Missy smiles like a dim bulb about to burn out as she eats. “You did a pretty good job of that, Dad. I've had some big shoes to fill.”

He smiles, running his tongue around the raspberry pips now lodged in his teeth.

“You’re doing great, kiddo.”

He reaches for another raspberry and she bats his hand away as he chuckles.

“You know, you’re the only man who's ever gotten me flowers…” She says a few minutes later, eyeing the fluffy heads with a slight dip on her face, and Marcus can’t help but furrow his brow in unison.

Missy looks up at her father with twinkly eyes that mirror the melting chips in the pancakes. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“Te quiero mucho, mucho.” (I love you very, very much.) He nods as they eat together.

“I should get going-” Missy states after she finishes her plate, which only seems to be after a few hefty shovels.

“No, stay.”

“As much as I love being a third wheel, it’s Valentine’s Day.” She reminds him.

“Hey.” Marcus takes her elbow gently. “You know this is your home, you're always welcome here, no matter what. I always want you here.”

“I know. But you guys should do the whole love thing today. Alone.”

“What about you?” He asks, concerned at the thought of Missy sitting alone in her apartment on the most love-filled day of the year.

“I’ll be fine.” She assures with a tight smile. “Might see if Miss Starlight or Renegade wanna hang. We can all be lonely and miserable together.” She snorts.

A thoughtful pause follows before Marcus tentatively broaches the idea. "Have you ever thought about giving online dating a try? You know, like the dating app profile you made for me? I hear it’s all the rage these days."

Missy raises an eyebrow, a playful grin forming on her face, "Dad, are you suggesting I join the world of swipes and emojis? Because that ship has long sailed. I’m knee deep in dilfs on the regular." She grins.

Marcus chuckles nervously, "I have no idea what any of that means.”

“Probably best.”

“Well, I mean, it's one way to meet people. You might find someone who appreciates your eloquent wit and charm."

“Don’t forget the potty mouth.”

“That too,” he smiles. “I know what it’s like. Being the world’s hero leaves you somewhat… lonely. I don't want that for you.”

Missy nods contemplating. “I’ve been giving it some thought.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you two seem really happy together. I guess I miss having that sometimes.”

Marcus, feigning surprise, replies, "Really? Well, I guess you can thank your old man for staying on top of the trends and leading by example."

Missy rolls her eyes playfully, "Oh, I will, Dad. You're my dating app guru now."

“Hardly.” He scoffs.

“This is true, you lucked out on round one. You didn’t get to kiss any gnarly toads or do the walk of shame.”

“The walk of shame?”

“I'll tell you about it when you’re older some day,” Missy quips with a grin.

There’s always a subtle restlessness, a physical awareness that manifests in the anticipation of your next meeting.

The memory of your kiss lingers on his lips, he can still taste you long after you're gone, and the mere thought of your touch again sparks a warmth that courses through his veins, burning him up from the inside.

His body has changed so much, and yet you make Marcus feel like he’s young and nubile again when the butterflies begin to flap around, and that tingle surges deliciously down the length of his cock.

With a sense of heady excitement and a touch of mystery, Marcus decided to plan a special surprise for you for Valentine’s Day.

One that he hopes you won’t forget in a hurry.

He arrives at your place, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, and the breath torn from his lungs as he beholds you opening the door with that gorgeous smile just for him.

Every time he has the chance to see you again, whether for a planned date or an unexpected visit, Marcus feels a powerful surge run through him, making his fingers crackle with a pulsing intensity that makes them buzz almost uncontrollably. He doesn't bother shaking the feeling away anymore, instead he revels in it.

The moments leading up to your regular reunions are filled with a blend of eagerness and a touch of nervous anticipation, as if each meeting holds the promise of uncovering something new and extraordinary.

In those stolen glances and shared moments, Marcus discovers that missing someone can be a beautiful ache, a testament to the depth of his feelings for you, absent hearts and all that spiel.

An ache that is soon satiated when you open the door and smile at him like he’s the only man in the world.

His lips find yours almost instantly as you grasp onto his broad shoulders in the doorway, the pair of you almost toppling through in your desperate haste. The soft groans that escape him makes your blood throb inside your veins.

His tongue slips into the comforting home of your mouth, and you feel it over every nerve ending in your body, tingly and visceral. And not just from his crackly fingertips.

“Hey you,” you eventually manage to sigh into his plush mouth, feeling the silk of his greying beard smoothing against your cheeks.

“Hey, mi Dulzura…” (Hey, my Sweetness) he murmurs dreamily as he plants delicate kisses along your jawline and inhales the scent of your perfume. It’s the vanilla and jasmine one he likes so much when he can smell it lingering on his pillows.

He’s all hands and enthusiastic smooches the moment he sees you. Unable to abnegate himself away from the basic needs of touch and affection that you give back to him in equal abundance.

You can't get enough of one another.

You feel his large hands squeeze your hips gently, and your body flares as he pulls you in closer to him, crushed right up against his stacked, warm chest as he kisses you more with a heated groan.

Reluctantly pulling away he suggests, "How about we go on a little adventure today? I've got something special planned."

“You spoil me, Mr Moreno.” You cluck, running your hands over the soft leather jacket adorning his arms.

“Always,” he confirms with a grin. “You look great, so beautiful,” he says, eyeing your tight jeans and pretty floral shirt combo.

“As do you, you scrub up well.” You marvel at the jeans, leather jacket and green t-shirt he’s casually adorned in, pulling tight in all the right places. You stroke over the soft swell of his tummy as you lean in for another kiss.

He pulls something silken out of his pocket and you glance at it with raised eyebrows. “May I?”

“Kinky shenanigans planned on my doorstep?” You query as you allow him to blindfold you. “The neighbours will love that…” You giggle.

“Even better,” he whispers into your ear salaciously.

“You hound.” You swipe out playfully to him, but miss when you can’t see anything at all now.

“Woof.” He growls, pausing to nip on your lobe and revelling in your desperate whine in response.

After a short drive through town, Marcus finally pulls up. "Trust me, you're going to love this," he assures as he guides you out of the car.

He carefully leads you along a path, each step heightening the sense of anticipation. As you walk blindly, his arm around your waist, and your hand holding tightly onto his other, you can feel his own sense of excitement as it buzzes into your skin with those pleasant tingles and crackles.

“Just a little further.” He assures as he pushes open a door and you step through to inhale a moistness in the air; a balmy heat that’s different from the outside that settles into your pores.

“Where are we?” You question with a jaunty, excitable tinkle. For a moment, the smell reminds you of a swimming pool.

“Just wait…” You can hear him grinning.

When you reach your destination, Marcus removes the blindfold, unveiling the breathtaking scene of the Austin botanical garden before you.

The vibrant colours, the fragrant blossoms, and the serene atmosphere creates a picturesque display that leaves you in absolute awe.

You’re surrounded by flowers in abundance, the scent of them driving you wild as they all scramble to make you smell their perfumes first. You’re even more stunned to find it all completely empty.

"Welcome to the botanical garden.” Marcus says, tucking the blindfold into his leather jacket pocket. “It’s one of my favourite places.”

“Wow!” You smile, turning a full three-sixty as you take it all in. “You know, I’ve always been meaning to come here. I don’t know why I haven’t before…”

“I thought we could spend the day here," Marcus announces with a grin. “Look,” he points over to a small set up of a picnic on a grassy area under an intricate arch of purple orchids in the shape of a heart.

“Looks like a giant purple heart emoji.” You smile at him.

He nods, eyebrows wiggling above his specs.

“You really know how to romance a girl,” you smile, stroking under his chin.

“I booked this place out just for us.” His hands slide down your lower back pulling you into him. “We’re completely alone…”

“Really?”

“Yeah. We have the whole day here, if we want.”

“I want. Very much.” You nod and pull him forward by his lapels for a deep kiss.

“I don’t know what to say,” you smile, cupping his cheeks and gliding your nose over his. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, mi Dulzura. Feliz Día del Corazón.” (My Sweetness. Happy Heart Day.)

He kisses you, gently nipping onto your lips as you wrap your arms around the back of his neck.

The air is filled with the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers as you stroll together along lush pathways, surrounded by an array of captivating plant life.

The Orchid Pavilion, the base for your picnic, is adorned with hanging baskets of intricate orchids, showcasing a kaleidoscope of colours - from delicate pastels to vibrant hues.

After eating together, an array of home baked, sweet treats Marcus had prepared himself, you wander through a section adorned with curtains of exotic orchids, and Marcus can't contain his enthusiasm as he takes on the role of your personal tour guide.

A role he takes very seriously, much to your amusement.

"Did you know orchids have a fascinating way of attracting pollinators? Some mimic the appearance and scent of certain insects to lure them in. It's nature's way of flirting, I suppose." He rambles excitedly.

You chuckle, finding Marcus's nerdy fascination endearing. "Flirting through flowers, who would've thought? Tell me more, Mr. Botanist."

You continue your fascinating journey, hand in hand, and Marcus points out a cluster of carnivorous plants.

"These are pitcher plants. They have specialised leaves that form a pitcher-like structure to trap insects. It's like having a tiny garden predator."

“Have you got these in your garden?” You query, peering into their tube-like structures, like tiny trumpets in the grasses. He has so many of his own plants it's hard to remember them all.

“No. I do have a Venus Fly Trap though. She’s very bitey.” He nips on your neck making you yelp as he walks you forward.

“Ah. Audrey II, of course.” You smirk.

“Of course.” He muses.

As you reach a serene pond surrounded by water lilies, Marcus shares another tidbit.

"Water lilies close their flowers at night and reopen in the morning, and they…. what?” He stops to look at you quizzically, noting the expression spreading over your face. “W-why are you looking at me like that?”

You shake your head smiling, all teeth bared at him. “You're so sexy when you geek out.”

He blushes beet red and smirks. “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet. Wait until we get to the cacti garden. I will be insufferable.”

"Hot." You chuckle.

You meander through a section dedicated to succulents and cacti, where the desert's resilience takes centre stage. The ground is adorned with various prickly shapes and sizes, from the elegant arms of Saguaro cacti to the whimsical arrangements of succulents that seem to defy gravity as their spiky tendrils reach towards the sky.

The sun bathes this arid landscape in a warm glow through the high glass ceilings, casting shadows that play on the pebbly, sandy ground like a dance of desert spirits conjured by mystical forces.

“You were right, it’s pretty awesome.” You say.

“Not as awesome as you,” he whispers, kissing you again.

A serpentine path leads you to the Aquatic Garden, where more water lilies float gracefully on the surface of a tranquil pond. Golden Koi Carp glide beneath the water, adding a splash of movement as you both sit by it chatting.

The reflections of the surrounding greenery dance on the water, creating a mirror-like effect that seems to amplify the selection of plant species all around you. You dip your fingers into the pool, the fish swimming curiously around at a safe distance, and Marcus watches with a smile that makes his cheeks ache.

“You like butterflies?” He asks you.

You nod, smiling as he takes your hand and leads you to the Butterfly Conservatory, a whimsical space alive with fluttering colours of Black Swallowtails, Red Admirals and Cloudless Sulphurs.

Thousands of butterflies dance around, their delicate wings creating a haze of hues that add an extra layer of enchantment to the garden that stuns you into silent giggles at such a place.

“I wish I could fly sometimes.” You smile as the butterflies flit around, some landing on your sleeves as you admire their delicacy with a splendid awe.

You bring your arm closer to your face, your nose wrinkling in delight as the tiny butterfly shows off its wings just for you.

“Funny you should mention that.” Marcus teases.

You eye him carefully. “What do you mean?”

“I have something else planned for you today. If you’re up for it?”

“I’m always up for it.” You smirk.

“Come on.” He takes you by the hand once more and leads you towards a garden that’s outside and full of roses in every shade of pink and red that exists on the colour scale.

“This is stunning,” you say, slowing down as you take them all in.

Akin to being lost in the Queen of Heart’s gardens, it takes you a few minutes of wandering back through the maze of rose bushes, interwoven with clusters of pale lavender hydrangeas, to find Marcus handling some belts and clips near a device you’ve never seen before.

“Is that what I think it is?” You question with wide eyes as you notice the large contraption hovering just a few inches above the grass, whirring silently.

It has two large circular fans and belts that lead from it to Marcus’s waist as he clips himself securely into it.

“You wanna fly?” He queries and you nod enthusiastically, feeling a surge zap through you and your toes tingle in your shoes.

You feel him navigate a similar belt around your waist, willingly holding your arms out. He runs his nose against your neck as he does it, and you hear him groan in satisfaction as he inhales.

“Mouth watering...” He murmurs as he kisses your skin and your feel it pulse in your core as you clench around nothing.

You watch as he clips your belt into his and tugs against it.

“Are you ready?” Marcus asks you as you step closer to him.

“No.” You giggle.

“Do you trust me?” He questions with a serious face, thumb stroking down your cheek.

You nod looking into his deep, cocoa eyes. “With my life.”

Marcus smiles at that, wrapping his hands around your waist. “I’ve got you. You’re safe, okay?"

"Okay." You nod, smiling.

"You’re not afraid of heights, are you?

“Bit late to ask me that now,” you chuckle, and so does he. "Are you going to run me through the pre-flight safety checks?"

Marcus smirks. "Hold onto me. That's it."

"Well, shit." You cling onto him as the whirring starts to get faster, the blades of grass blown out into flat circles, and you can feel the belt cinch tighter around your waist as it lifts you both off the ground.

“Oh my God!” You clutch onto him tighter and he chuckles softly. “This is really happening!”

“Let’s go see the city.” Marcus smiles, placing a kiss on your head.

Once a soft breeze, the wind grows more ferocious around you, your body becoming free from the reassuring surface of the world.

The wonder in your eyes grows to questionable proportions, and you’re soon completely bewildered at the fact that you're really flying.

He tips forward in a smooth motion so you’re both lying horizontal in the air when the device reaches the desired altitude.

“You ready?”

You nod eagerly as he propels forward with a simple push of his upper body, steering, as you both zoom off towards the Austin city skyline, your giggly gasps ringing in his ears.

Your eyes meet his in wonder as you grip onto him tightly. “Marcus! We’re flying!”

You feel like you’re shouting over the wind whipping against you, eyes wide and gleaming at the sight of the city approaching in a block chart of colour and twinkles of lights.

It feels colder, but being crushed against his body keeps you warm enough. You’re too exhilarated to feel any change in body temperature.

You brave yourself to look at the sky above sinking into an inky twilight of orange and cerise hues as the sun sets.

“Welcome to my world,” Marcus says, nuzzling into you.

You feel his grip lessen and glance at him with alarm, but the look in his eyes convinces you he’s not going to let you fall.

He simply reaches for your hand with one of his, and you drop subtly beneath him, the belt keeping you close as he takes your other hand and you’re spread out beneath, back against his chest, arms wide as they can go as he holds them out parallel with his.

“Oh shit!” You gasp as he flies you both faster, curving and twisting around the breadth of the skyscrapers; your giddy reflection in the mirrors of the glass windows ara a blur as you pass.

You don’t notice when he lets go of your hands, his arms around your waist instead as your own arms stay out in front of you as you rip through the air.

“Better than the butterflies?” You hear him call.

“So much better than the butterflies!” You laugh, almost hysterically, as he loops back towards the botanical garden, after a few more laps around the city.

As soon as you’re back on the ground in the rose garden, a wave of adrenaline surges through you, and you lunge at him with shaky limbs, almost knocking him off balance.

A melody of gasps and breathy pants puff out of your mouths as you kiss frantically through tinctured groans. The whimper in the back of his throat conveying more than words ever need to about his desire for you in this moment.

Marcus unclips the belts, yanking them off of the both of you with a fumbling fervour, glued at the mouth with you. Clumsy kisses, teeth clashing against one anothers in your mutual haste, as you push his leather jacket down over his shoulders and his fingers eagerly untuck your shirt from your jeans.

“That was incredible,” you gasp into his mouth, unzipping his jeans.

“You’re incredible,” he groans as you take his swollen cock in your hand, squeezing and stroking gently as you lavish kisses over his bronzed neck.

“Oh God,” Marcus moans.

Subtle flicks of your tongue leave him gasping, his hands running through your windswept hair as you make tracks over his chest littered with sparse, greying hairs as you both tumble to the grass and push his t-shirt up further.

Tasting all the way down his sternum and lingering over the soft paunch of his tummy, a place you always nuzzle against, he glances down at you with a bashful smile.

Then a gentle nibble on his hips before your tongue wanders into the small, neatly trimmed thatch of hairs around the back of this thick, weeping cock.

“Oh, please…” he whines biting down on his lip.

You lick up from the base of him, your eyes transfixed on his as he gasps, watching you run up the full length of him to kiss the top of his leaking head gently. You stroke his thighs and he parts them further making room for you as you settle into making out with his cock.

You’ve mastered the art of taking your time with him, enjoying the sounds that flutter out of his mouth as you take him deeper and deeper. Those unbridled whimpers as you suck fill your ears, and you swear you’ve never heard a more perfect sound escape him.

It's when you take him all the way down is when he loses his calm, polite composure.

“Fuck!” Marcus gasps, his head lolling back. “Mm, just like that…”

You smirk to yourself as you feel fingers knotting in your hair and subtly tugging on it.

“Yeah… so fucking good. Oh my God… Yes.” He pants.

You let him have free reign over your body too, as he buries two fingers inside you and licks you to orgasm. His favourite place is between your legs, his second is a garden. When the two collide, it's even better.

“Marcus, please…” you pant, words tumbling from your mouth as your legs shake.

“Tell me, tell me what you want, mi Dulzura.”

“I want you inside me.”

“Right here?” You feel his buzzing fingers plunger deeper, stroking on that spot that makes your thighs shake harder as you feel the tingles ramp up. “You want me filling you up, hmm?”

“Yeah.” You pant as he circles your clit. The heavy throb undeniable on it from the crackling in the tip of his thumb.

“That feel good?” He smirks.

You fist the grass, tearing blades from it that stick to your palms as you grasp his face, fingernails digging into his skull behind his ears as your exhale and puff into his face.

“Oh my God, yes, Marcus!”

His glasses dig into your cheeks as you strain and wail, your breath fogging them up a little.

“Come for me. Come all over my fingers, come on.” He chants watching you, foreheads crushed together as he zaps and strokes harder inside you.

“Come, mi Dulzura. ¡Dios mío, eres tan malditamente hermosa!” (My God, you're so damn beautiful!)

The Spanish whispers send you over the edge. “M-Marcus!” You cry out, squeezing around his fingers as your whole body shakes; tingles flooding all over and making you feel like you’re still flying, all the way up there in the pale lilac sky above you as your eyes roll back into it.

You feel him kissing over your neck, humming softly muffled words of praise and desire into your skin as your slick coats his fingers just like he wanted.

"So fucking perfect for me," Marcus croons.

“I need you.” You whisper.

“God, I need you, too.”

His large, perfectly sculpted nose crushes into the side of your jaw as he fills you; your gasps and whines echoing around the rose garden as he slides into your utterly drenched pussy.

He loves how the stretch of you around his cock brings you to orgasm almost right away; a few gentle thrusts as you adjust to his thickness, and you’re shuddering for him, coating him in your slick before he plunders deeper with that gentle, rhythmic pounding.

He loves how you're completely insatiable for one another, despite the ravishes of age rendering your bones heavier, your paces slower.

Despite it all, you still embark on a journey of a healthy sexual appetite, even if you both have to navigate it with a little more preparedness sometimes; it still rocks your world.

He still has it, and so do you.

“You feel so good,” You whisper to him as he nuzzles into your face. The wind of his hips into yours, hits you at the perfect angle, again and again.

“We feel so good together,” he breathes with a smile. “Fuck, I can’t get enough of you. I don't think I’ll ever stop getting enough of you.”

You kiss him again as he thrusts a little harder, a little faster.

The vulnerabilities of being so exposed, so spread before him like this, revealing all the parts about yourself you’ve scrutinised scathingly in the mirror with abhorrence, fade away.

It’s all those wrinkled, stretched, sagged parts of you that he worships with his crackly fingers and tongue. He spends time appreciating them, fawning over them and lavishing them with the attention they so thoroughly deserve as he rolls with you so you’re on top now.

How you watch as your less-than-perky breasts tumble into his face as he pulls them out of your bra, but he licks and suckles at them as his cock notches against your hole and he groans out as you sit on him fully. Running his tongue around those stiff pebbles unabashed, sucking them into his mouth as you grind on him.

“Come for me…” Marcus pants as he watches that dreamy glaze settle into your eyes as you ride him; that glittery feeling about ready to burst out of your pores as he pushes up with his hips to meet you. “Need to feel you soak me.”

“Oh shit, I’m coming!” You shake on top of him, gasping. Head thrown back as you rock and grinning as you see stars explode across the sky above you.

Yeah. Marcus Moreno has still got it.

“That’s it, like that. Fuck, I’m gonna come too! Fuck! Fuuuck!”

Marcus stiffens, his whole body tenses as his hips jerk, and he fills you up. Floods you until he's dripping warm and pearly out of you, all over his soft belly, as you lean upwards to kiss him some more.

Afterwards, as you both lay in the grass half dressed and satiated from the highs of flying and your lovemaking, Marcus reaches up above you both, plucking a single, red rose from the bush and hands it to you.

You sniff the fragrant petals and smile at him with glittery eyes that wander over his face looking back at you. You run the rose head gently over his cheek and he smiles, and you think you've never seen anything more beautiful in your life.

The way he’s looking at you right now literally renders you mute and unable to breathe.

But he's a tempest under that sweet smile.

He’s felt it for a while now, that tether between you becoming tighter, knotting into something unbreakable and deepening, but he finds himself grappling with a gnawing worry - one that whispers doubts in the quiet moments of contemplation.

He fears the weight of those three simple words that are on the cusp of his tongue: I love you.

It wasn't that he doubted the sincerity of his emotions; rather, it was the fear of the unknown, the uncertainty of how those words might alter the delicate balance of your relationship.

Is it too soon? Is it too much? Is it foolish at his age to even begin to allow himself the same giddy excitement he felt when he was much younger? Would uttering those words irrevocably change the dynamic between you, shifting the fragile equilibrium you had both carefully cultivated?

There's also the fear of rejection, of laying his heart bare only to have it met with silence or crippling hesitation. What if you might not feel the same way yet, or even at all? That his declaration of love might drive a wedge between you rather than bring you closer together causes a reaction within him that makes him physically tense.

“I can feel your heartbeat speeding up,” you say, regarding him quizzically with your hand already resting on his chest. Little fluttery pulses thrum under your fingertips.

Looking at you gazing up at him, a mixture of awe and concern, Marcus knows he has all he’s ever wanted and needed right here in his arms, and he can't deny the truth that simmers beneath the surface of his hesitations.

He loves you with a fierceness that defies logic - defies gravity, even. A love that transcends the boundaries of time and space. And as he grapples with his fears, he knows deep down that the only way forward is to take a leap of faith, to trust in the strength of your forged connection that grows stronger between you every day.

He decides he has to be bold. To be brave.

To be heroic.

“I love you. I-I’m in love with you.” Marcus says softly, wrinkled almond eyes swimming with a mix of euphoria and worry. “Be my Valentine?”

You reach for him, stroking your fingers in the soft silk of his greying jawline.

“También te quiero, Marcus.” You say, before he grazes his lips across yours. (I love you too, Marcus.)

“You learned some Spanish.” He whispers in awe, pulling his smile wide and eyes glistening behind the lenses of his specs.

“I figured I should. After all, I wanna understand all the special things you whisper in my ear.”

“Sólo las cosas más especiales, y sucias, para ti, mi amor…” (Only the most special, and dirty, things for you, my love.)

“Yeah, I’m not fluent.” You chuckle as he kisses you, pulling you over fully onto his body where he crushes you against him.

“Yet,” he smiles, as he sucks your bottom lip into this mouth for a deep kiss.

“So, are we flying home, or…?” You ask.

“You’re an adrenaline junkie now, hmm?”

“What can I say, you’ve taken me to new heights, Mr Moreno. I might become addicted.”

“I already am.” Marcus says, nuzzling into you.

“We should go soon, someone might find us?”

He shakes his head. “I told you, we have the whole place to ourselves, for a little while longer anyway. What do you want to do?”

You smile at him, devilishly.

“Make me fly again…” You whisper, as you feel his re-hardened cock dipping into your sticky folds.

You push back as he slips fully inside you, hips bucking up to fill you full of him once more, and Marcus does exactly what you ask of him; he lets you fly.

Thank you so much for enjoying this story! I'd love to know your thoughts and would really appreciate a re-blog too so others can enjoy some Mature!Marcus Moreno. Isn't he just dreamy? Happy Valentine's Day! 🖤😘

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