-"the dog days are over"
"it's over, Layla Quill."
{Peter Quill x daughter!oc}
{oc x oc}
ALL THE CHARACTERS BELONG TO MARVEL I ONLY OWN LAYLA AND OWEN AND THEIR STORY!!
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LAYLA QUILL OFTEN FELT LIKE A SPECK in the vast expanse of space. Her days were filled with the monotony of reading the same three books over and over again and spending time with her father. Though she was Terran, just like her parents, the details of her origins remained shrouded in mystery. Her mother was a distant figure, absent from her life since the tender age of a few weeks, according to her father's account.
Peter, her father and sole guardian, was her anchor in a universe of uncertainty. "Just me and you and the universe," he would often tell her, emphasizing their bond forged amidst the stars. Layla absorbed his every word, her trust in him unshakable despite the void left by her absent mother.
With her slender frame and sprinkling of freckles, Layla bore a striking resemblance to her grandmother, a fact her father never failed to mention. Yet, it was undeniable that she inherited Peter's emerald eyes and strawberry blonde hair, mirroring him in every way.
On this particular day, boredom gnawed at Layla's senses as she remained confined to their ship while her father embarked on yet another daring mission for Yondu. His protective nature prevented her from joining him, a fact that both frustrated and amused her. The thud of a body hitting the ground outside startled her from her reverie, prompting a sarcastic remark.
"Geez, dad!" she exclaimed, watching as Peter scrambled to his feet and hurried to the ship's control center.
"Hey, kiddo," he greeted, his hands flying over the controls in a desperate attempt to initiate liftoff. The sound of gunfire echoing in the distance sent a shiver down Layla's spine.
"Dad, are they shooting at us?" she asked, concern etched in her voice.
Peter's response was terse as he focused on the task at hand. "Yup! So put your seatbelt on!"
Rolling her eyes at the notion of seatbelts in the midst of chaos, Layla moved to her seat with haste. "Psh— seatbelts? Who needs them," she muttered under her breath, only to be met with her father's unexpected retort.
"You need them," Peter stated firmly, catching Layla off guard with his keen hearing.
"How'd you even hear that?" Layla inquired, her curiosity piqued.
"Dad senses," Peter quipped with a grin, his attention returning to the controls. "Now, seatbelt on. I can handle this!"
Layla's eyes, vibrant pools of green, rolled in exasperation as she clicked her seatbelt into place. Amidst the cacophony of laughter and gunfire, their ship lurched forward, only to be rudely interrupted by a sudden impact that sent it careening in a dizzying spin.
With a startled yelp, Layla clung to her seat, watching in dismay as her father's face collided with the window, then as he was tossed about like a ragdoll in the turbulent chaos.
"Handle this my ass," Layla muttered under her breath, her frustration mounting as she braced herself against the unruly motion. She unbuckled her seatbelt, determined to take matters into her own hands, but before she could act, Peter's voice cut through the chaos.
