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submalevolentgrace · 2 years

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Hi! I'm very interested in attempting to write a disabled character (not for this blog, I assure, for an book I'm writing) in which the story doesn't fetishize/objectify her prosthetic limb. I'm in many writing circles and have been for a long while, but I've never seen this issue brought to light which I realise is a very important one. I have much to change in my thought process, and thank you for bringing this issue to attention.

I'm curious, and I apologise if this has been asked before, but what sort of design could you see for a functional prosthetic that doesn't go for a plainly aesthetic appearance, or is soully to please others? I do note that you said prosthetics are generally... not that helpful. So is there a way that it could be? Or do you think it would always generally be better to not use a prosthetic, as its mostly for aesthetic purposes, as you said?

I apologise if this ask is too outright or anything, and I don't mean to intrude. Thank you for your time and have a beautiful day!

okay, i want to answer this as in depth as possible, because whenever i talk about having a prosthesis, someone will always tag some variation of "#writing reference" and i do wonder what message they're taking away, and i want to get as much of my experience out as possible to maybe help shape how this is all portrayed in the future. and yeah… this is gonna be one of those rambly smg posts that the expand feature was invented for, so i'll start with the very abridged TL;DR:

if you're writing a character with an upper limb prosthesis; don't. arm amputees are unicorn level rare even compared to leg amputees, and i've never interacted with or even heard of an upper limb amputee that regularly uses a prosthesis, let alone relies on one. fiction has lied to you for the sake of cool aesthetics, don't repeat the cycle. more in depth writing advice including nuance and "but i waaaant to" will follow.

that said, grab your donning parachute and let's get started...

context for everyone involved: i am an upper limb amputee that rants a lot about how prostheses suck, i lost my right hand roughly five years ago at roughly the age of 30 after a very rough decline in health… it was pretty rough. this question is being asked in the context of a previous rant post of mine, and i checked that the ask is about an upper limb prosthesis in particular.

the situation regarding the usefulness of lower limb prostheses is totally different; i am definitely no expert, but by all accounts, prosthetic legs are incredibly useful for many people. getting a good leg can be absolutely life changing and more or less necessary for day to day life for some; mostly because infrastructure and society is just so fucking hostile to wheelchair users. being able to walk - at the cost of pressure sores and rashes and increased residual limb pain - is a preferable option to many people than being unable to fit through a doorway or in a bathroom stall or find out that the key to unlock the only elevator is in the admin office up three flights of stairs (true story).

but upper limb prostheses… see, the thing is, hands are incredibly complex organs that rely on a lot of immediate haptic feedback to work at all. hand dexterity is all about control, you need fine granular movements of the digits yes, but you also need the subtle sensations of pressure and proprioception in order to adjust your movements on the fly. i speak from experience, in the years leading up to the full loss of my hand, i was slowly losing function of it, usually swinging between numbness that made it clumsy at best, or screaming overstimulation from moving it at all resulting in unpredictable spasms… and let me tell you, a half working hand is infuriating to try and deal with. you can never know if you have a good grip on something or if it's slipping because of the wrong amount of pressure, and there's only so many smashed bottles of pickles on the floor before you give up using it all together… so amputation wasn't a great loss there, i had time to adapt.

a prosthetic hand of any kind has all of those issues and more. they're heavy and bulky, the cosmetic faux fingers or gripping claw have crude movement at best, and there's zero feedback (put a pin in this). 100% of the time you're using a prosthetic hand you have to keep your eyes on the grip and visually guesstimate whether or not the thing you're carrying is held tight enough but not too tight, that is if your "heavy duty" prosthesis can even support the weight without the servos disengaging or the wrist attachment socket just busting loose. i dropped a whippersnipper on my foot last week when my socket couldn't take the weight and i think that was the final straw in me desperately trying to prove to myself that there is a single task my prosthesis actually helps with.

this is usually where fully two handed people start talking about bleeding edge DARPA tech, and how we just need to invest more,research more, develop more. better tech, more tech, neural integration, more more more. okay i promise the writing advice is coming! for starters on tech, my experience is already with a mid-to-high end ottobock terminal device: i've got a myoelectric nerve-signal operated proportional control heavy duty greifer; about the only upgrade left for me to get would be a rotating wrist joint if i could coflex. it's not military, it's not "rockclimber that owns a prosthetic company", but it's quality tech. it still fucking sucks. secondly, that high level military tech exists primary for PR purposes so they can say they treat their discarded casualties well, "we can rebuild him, we have the technology" style. every war vet i've read about or heard from that's been gifted that high level tech also abandons it for the same reasons; it's imprecise, there's no feedback (or the haptic interface has to be fully recalibrated every time they put it on), but mostly they're more capable without one.

okay, the transhumanist ableds say (i should know, i used to be one), what if we did more ~research and development~ and got that neural feedback working? then we could have fireproof superhumanly strong robot arms to fix up everyone! here's where i take out that pin we put up before and i tell you that a class of prosthetic arms/hands already exists that has perfect proportional control, fine motor control, and physics perfect pressure feedback piped directly into the patients' existing sensory systems! they're called body-powered prostheses, and they were invented in like the 1600s. you strap a whole bunch of stuff to your arm and shoulders shoulders, and control the operation of the terminal device and elbow through cable tension by flexing your shoulders. they do take a considerable amount of training to operate - though hell i spent 18 months training to use my myo - but based on everything i've read, body-powered prostheses are the best option if you're an upper limb amputee and absolutely need a second hand for some reason.

but they don't look cool and futuristic, and according to my prosthetist, most people give up on using them too. we all give up on our prostheses, no matter the type. my rehab OT was impressed i lasted the 18 months of my training. towards the end, they even asked if the clinic director could drop in to one of my sessions to see my progress; he expressed genuine amazement at me casually using my bulky robot claw to use a brush and dustpan, and made an offhanded (hah) comment about what someone can achieve "if they stick it out to the end", implying it was somewhat of a rarity for me to have done so. several years on, and yesterday i wedged the dustpan between my ankles to sweep up into it, awkward but exponentially less effort than putting my dusty robot arm on. which, by the way, is a whole thing. look up some videos, they're all awful to don. i don't actually know the official technical name of what my clinic calls a "parachute" but it's a bitch to use! have you ever tried to pull back with your arm whilst also pushing it forwards at the same time, and simultaneously lean in to and away from an external force pulling on you? that's how you get a myo socket on.

bare with me, i promise writing advice is coming, and i promise it's more than the tl;dr. but. remember when i said a half working hand is infuriating to deal with? any prosthesis, from fancy myo tech to pirate-era body powered, will only ever be half as good as a working hand, and being juuuust within capability to do something but not quite able to is maddening! but you know what works way better than a half working hand? no hand at all. using whatever residual/vestigial limb you have - whatever "stump" you have, i hate that word - is pretty much always better than trying to use a prosthesis. i can use the inside of my elbow to grip and carry things, i can use the nub of my arm to apply pressure to hold things, open doors, use a computer mouse, turn on taps and lights, if i put a glove over it i can use it to prep for cooking. i have full proprioception and pressure feedback with skin contact, i don't think i've ever dropped and broken anything from my elbow, unlike countless things slipped from my greifer - which, by the way, absolutely will start clenching as tight as it can if i get even slightly too sweaty around the electrodes, which has both broken things i'm holding and also injured me, because surprise surprise but servo operated robot claws have pinch points on them right near the "emergency disengage" lever for some reason!

but i am exponentially more capable without it on than with it. no, i'm not fully independent, i rely on housemates and loved ones to help me out with some tasks that simply just need two handed dexterity, but none of those tasks are things a prosthesis makes me able to do anyway. i used to imagine my prosthesis would be like a bra; a bit awkward and uncomfortable, but i'd wear it throughout the day because it's helpful and take it off in the evening to decompress. in reality it's actually exactly like a bra: an absolute bitch to put on one handed, unbearably uncomfortable because it never sits right, ugly af unless you're a millionaire, and absolutely useless except for the fact that i get gawked at and judged by strangers if i leave the house without it on.

and if you really want to discover how far "no hand is better than a half working hand" goes, brace yourself, and look up the patient's stories (not medical system stories) of people that have had hand transplants. the first man to receive one hated it, he was promised a return to normal function, and what he got was a nightmare worse than being one handed; he wanted it removed again but the doctors refused because it would undermine their grand achievement of the first hand transplant. the doctors and society wanted him to be fixed, they wanted him to be normal, they wanted him to be abled. they failed. they made him less able to do things, denied his autonomy, and left him with someone else's hand slowly rotting on him, prioritising the idea of "scientific progress" and "two hands good" over the physical health, mental health, and ability to function of this man.

he's not alone; every story from the patients' perspective about hand transplants that i've read goes this way, including a woman who was born quad limb different and was promised hands would improve her life, pressured into a double hand transplant, only to find herself after the surgery essentially experiencing disability for the first time ever, because she had lived her whole life getting by just fine with her 'underdeveloped' limbs, but half working hands are worse than useless. you can try to find these stories yourself, but i'm not going looking for sources on any of these cases, because if you look back through enough of my posts you'll get a glimpse of the horrors and abuses that i too was put through by doctors who prioritised trying to "fix" me at any cost, rather than providing me the best quality of life, and in turn traumatised me and left me more broken than any loss of limb on its own could. dear goddess, i promise the writing advice is coming.

so. why do upper limb prostheses exist at all? if they're so terrible and useless, what is their function? i want to borrow something someone else left in the tags of a previous rant here, from someone who i believe works in prosthetics and/or rehab, cleaned up and anonymised at their request:

"upper limb functions are wildly more complex than: 1) bear weight static, and 2) bear weight moving. but every single upper limb amputee i know has a fancy expensive prosthetic just gathering dust in the closet because there is literally nothing it can do like a few years of adjustment and if needed non-dominant hand retraining can't do. the existence of forquarter prosthetics to begin with is just kind of silly and useless and entirely to make OTHER people feel comfortable, especially considering they universally are UNcomfortable for the amputee. i hate the notion that as soon as you get the amputation the prosthetic is The Thing That Will Fix You And Make You Feel Normal again because it universally isn't! but every forequarter person i know had like this ideal of Being Fixed By Magic Prosthetic that they were then obviously wildly disappointed by and had to do yet another grieving process with, versus if the dominant narrative were just one of: yeah. it'll take time, there is no magic fix."

and i think that really nails down what the actual purpose of upper limb prostheses is: they're not for the user, they're for the sake of other people. and not just their comfort when looking at our bodies, although based on the pressure for both amputees and people born limb different to get functionless cosmetic plastic hands, there is a lot of that. but it's not just that.

i fully believe that the reason prosthetic hands exists is to comfort the fears of the two handed. "don't worry", they say, "we can fix you again. you don't have to fear becoming Disabled, you don't have to worry about adapting or your life changing. we can make you Normal™ again."

you would not believe the number of people that have approached me to shower me with pity, to tell me how horrific my life is, how they can't imagine it. people have told me, apropos of nothing, that they'd kill themselves if they lost a hand. indirectly, that my life isn't worth living. unless, of course, i happen to be wearing my cool as fuck looking robot prosthesis! then they tell me how wonderful it is, how lucky i am, how glad they are that we have the technology to fix me. that's what a prosthetic hand says, what all the happy fishing photos on limbs4life posters at the rehab clinic say: don't worry, we can fix you. that's what the bleeding edge DARPA flexi-whatever fully articulated neuro-feedback hands say: don't worry if you get IED'd while hunting civilians for us to drone bomb, if you get hurt, we will fix you, we will fix the fuck out of you, we will motherfucking adam jensen you into a cool as fuck cyborg that your son will idolise; come on boys, don't you wanna enlist just for the chance at being as cool as this? join the bomb squad for a ticket to the upgrade lottery.

and so we arrive at fiction. as much as his dialogue options protest, adam jensen loves his robot arms, they punch through walls, turn into fucking swords! they make him the most special man in the world. what would he do without them? learn to cope? grieve? practice acceptance? take up poetry? just, be disabled? there's no power fantasy for ableds in that.

in fact, can you think of a single fictional character that's an upper limb amputee that's, well, just an amputee? they all have robot arms. not realistic prostheses, not medical devices; robot arms. sleek or bulky, top of the line or broken down self built, steampunk or nanomachines or magitech automail; they're never without them. never just an amputee. never born limb different either! there's always that element of tragedy to overcome, always suffering and misery porn, always focus on the pain and the helplessness without the absolutely vital robot arm that makes them Normal and Whole. the closest amputee example i can think of is furiosa from mad max, who iirc fucking punches max in the face with her residual limb like a motherfucking badass! i can barely lean on mine wrong and she punches a guy! but she still apparently needs a dieselpunk robot hand to drive a truck, something you can do one handed so easily most drivers don't even notice they're doing it! please don't, by the way

and so many disabled fans love to point to robot armed characters as disability representation; the winter soldier, luke skywalker, edward elric, misty knight, that genderswapped furry girl from ratchet and clank, jet cowboybebop, finn the human, and yes, adam jensen…. these are all characters that someone disabled i know has told me they love because they "represent disabled bodies"…. and i know nobody wants to hear this, because i've been screamed at for saying it before, but… they do not. they are not disabled, functionally or within fiction. they are either perfectly able bodied Normal people with chrome paint on an arm, or tortured misery porn we are supposed to pity and feel lucky we're not them. sometimes both!

also you ever notice how it's basically always arms? lower limb amputations are orders of magnitude more common than upper, my prosthetist said i was probably only the 4th or 5th upper limb she'd worked with in her career, with literally hundreds of lower limb fits. but fiction doesn't seem to reflect that, huh? or any other part of the reality of disability. it's always cool as fuck robot arms, never cool as fuck wheelchairs or crutches or dialysis machines or colostomy bags. a fair few "i was blind but now i can see with Robot Eyes and also infrared and xray" around, which again, plays into that "we can fix you and make you cooler" propaganda.

by the way, up above when i was describing body powered arms, if you wondered to yourself why i went with a myoelectric one instead when i clearly believe body powered is better… yeah. i am not immune to propaganda! i too wanted to be cool as fuck. i spent years with deteriorating function in my hand for reasons that are still unknown, was misdiagnosed and medically neglected to the point that removing my hand seemed to be the only option left to offer some relief, and even that was a clusterfuck that left me worse than ever… of course i wanted to believe in the power and prestige of a cool robot arm that fiction promised me.

but fiction promises fantastical lies. and so.

we get to the writing advice portion of the novella that is this post. you asked for advice on how to write a disabled character with an upper limb prosthesis. you've read the tl;dr, you've read everything above i assume, you know i don't want you to do it. the obvious twist is that it's been writing advice all along, me trying to share my perspective on what it's like being an amp with a robot arm and how shitty it is, implying how almost any fully realised and realistic character that's missing an upper limb would give up on a prosthesis at all. you can already tell that every value judgement in me says "don't give her a prosthesis, no matter how functional or cool you make it. don't try to make the tech better to justify it, just let her be one armed, one handed. just let her be disabled, but not helpless. let her show off her elbow or underarm carry strength. let her love interest appreciate how soft and squishy her residual limb is in a moment of tenderness. let her natural disabled body be respected and valued."

but that's a personal value judgement from me, and you are the author of your own work. i know it's trite to say, but you are! even the act of deferring to someone with lived experience in the hope of doing a better job at representation is a value judgement, a good choice in my opinion, but one you needn't necessarily take. maybe you do want to write a character that has a cool as fuck unrealistic robot arm as a power fantasy, or a comfort blanket… i did.

i've been slowly writing my own probably terrible scifi epic for over a decade now, and when my arm was giving me hell back then, i'd take great comfort in this fantasy of my protagonist with her chunky robot arm, the terrible traumatic suffering of her loss, overcoming, the power and ability her advanced prosthesis gives her over others, that she alone has access to, because others are not willing to make the sacrifices required. inspiration porn. awful stuff to me now, but empowering to me then. as i grew and gained direct experience, i slowly reimagined her, rewrote her, ship of theseus'd her into an entirely new character; a reflection of me now, bitter at the whole thing, spiteful that her natural flesh arm evokes fear and distrust, but unwilling to suffer the pain and frustration of her unnatural prosthesis just to make others comfortable and respect her as "whole", however artificial that whole is. and as with the ship of theseus being two ships, once i realised the transformation, i re-added the old protagonist back in whole cloth as a separate character; proud of her robot arm and its power, but in new context, as a foil and antagonist, an in-universe military prosthesis propaganda figure to reflect how i now feel characters like her exist to us, the readers.

i'm not just sharing that as egotistical self promotion, but to highlight that, even if i sit here begging you all up and down not to write characters with robot arms for how bad and unrealistic they are; there's still something genuine and true that their inclusion can say. the great thing about the story that you're writing is that only you can write it, as they say. but i whole heartedly believe that to write to your best, you have to be aware of what you're writing and why. as tempting as it is to feel these characters form naturally in us and therefore we're averse to changing traits about them that feel organic and self evident; as authors we have omnipotent control over the text, every trait and detail is a reflection on us, so we'd sure as hell better understand why we're choosing to write a character with this trait. because anything you write without being aware of intent will take on its own meaning in the space between.

and on that note, if i don't say this, i'm leaving it to be inferred: i definitely don't want to appear to come down on the side of saying "you cannot write an amputee unless you are one", because we are rarer than single young bisexual unicorns! and it would be a tragedy if anyone read through all this and then turned away in fear, deciding to never write an amputee character (with or without robot arm) because they feel they can't do it justice… believe me, no matter what anyone says, some hack writer somewhere is going to keep writing adam jensens and winter soldiers. don't let them be the only voices in fiction! just try to do your best.

so my ultimate advice on the topic of writing a character with a prosthetic limb is to ask yourself one question in two different frameworks, and meditate on what you feel the answer is:

why does she have a prosthesis?

from a doylelist perspective as the kids say, as an author with omnipotent control, why are you choosing to write about this topic? why are you choosing to give this trait to this character? what does it say about how you view ability and disability, what makes a person normal, and what our society values? will you let her be in her natural body? or will you give her a prosthesis, force her to wear it by authorial fiat, or author her a meaningful reason to choose to? if yes, be sure you know; why did you give her a prosthesis?

and from a wastonian perspective, diegetically, inside the story, why does she choose to wear a prosthesis? what does it say about her inner character, and how she interacts with the world? how does she feel about doing it, is she prideful and loves the attention she gets, or does she resent whatever necessitates its use? how do people in this world view ability and disability, what does this society value? and above all, whatever the answer to these questions, whether or not she uses a prosthesis or is badass without one, how does she deal with the eternal freezing cold that every amputee ever feels constantly in their residual limb and why does nobody make a heat pack that fits over a nub without drafty gaps???

i can't outright tell you how to write a good upper limb amputee, but if you at least know why you're writing one and for what purpose, you're on track to write the best character that you can. that's the best advice i can give… other than, like, this whole rambly mess.

and, as a reward for reading this far, please have a very blurry cryptid photo of my cat doing his old man sit:

#prosthesis #prosthetic #disability #ableism

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alostwanderernotfound · 1 month

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The Dangers

Many years ago in my studies I worked with many people. We all eventually started to disagree on a variety of things.

Latin was one of the few languages I was taught & to a degree retained at the time. Music was another study encouraged. To some holy families this was a practice to be whole & for others it was considered an opportunity- “a tool” as it was described. I was taught a lot as a child under the guise of just trying to learn of the world, but quickly others intervened. They were trying to teach me sorcery & I didn’t even know it.

The angels were fractionated by “rank” & “power”. Witchcraft & asking for the power of other things outside of us started to become a secret ambition of some. Some of us wanted to prioritize peace & harmony. Others were focused on the attainment of the most power possible for our survival.

Latin as a language is apparently spoken by a lot of different beings. Communication between beings that have different technology/skills/power/etc apparently had occurred at least somewhat enough of other beings to know of angel existence.

One specific group that shall go unnamed spoke Latin & to speak to them you played certain notes in a certain way. Like an intro song & then they knew you were speaking to them.

Some were asking for power & attempting to bargain.

This was one of the huge dividers that eventually led to angel banishment out of the clouds.

I do not think Latin is translated correctly & I think that’s for a very scary reason.

I also think I asked and wrote down pretty specifically if you did Latin mass to not sing.

That is because you never know who is there leading you to deceive you.

I remember walking into one of the first Latin masses given and as soon as I entered- I remember being taken aback because they were singing.

I looked at the sheet music and was horrified in its familiarity.

The sheet music had the chords for speaking to this other type of being that asks you to sacrifice your body to it for its power. And I watched as an entire congregation sung a chant to other things not of our God that was asking for a specific person’s protection for them. These beings heard the chant & I can only assume lent that person some of their power, for your words said that is what you asked for.

The antichrists/people in hell’s power is supposedly derived from these types of practices. They bargain & gossip with other beings to get favor & then ask for their enemies destruction. A lot of power comes from the manipulation of people trying to do good.

God told me a long time ago I had to warn when I saw this & I did. Many times. But they did not care. I was in the minority. These practices were apparently essential to others, but all I saw was the chaos & the suffering & the pain.

And I realized a long time ago me & you, we’re nothing more than an infinite sacrificial token to them. They’d flood the world & crucify me & keep going as long as they get to stay in power.

And that’s why the Bible & Christianity & all these religions & mythical stories were life and death & why we didn’t stop fighting for so long. Why they were the most important things in the world & you were begged to please just listen because we don’t know who or what we were angering.

This is the story of the never ending fall & all the things people have done for all of history that led to what we called the inevitability of eternal suffering for us all.

They seek to continue to erase memories because they don’t care if they destroy this world & they don’t want anyone to even consider stopping them.

I remember now the ones so many years ago that asked for my skin & my flesh & my body. And I cried.

And the other angels, spiritual beings, & their followers gave me to them- to make themselves more powerful.

#christianity #angel #bible #faith #holy bible #holy spirit #writing #jesus #religion #christian faith #ritual #spirituality #spiritual #death #destruction #sadness #depressing shit #mythology #legend

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bobluvbot · 4 months

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someone you loved

pairing: sirius black x f!reader summary: your relationship with sirius hurt so much, that the only way forward was to forget. wc: 3k a/n: angst angst angst!!! lots of negative self talk and low self esteem, allusions to a bad childhood (not stated directly), implied emotional abuse & cheating, both sirius and reader are going through it.

snippets of his voice echo in your head like a haunting lullaby that doesn’t seem to end. its funny how the mind is known to block out the traumatic memories, but for some reason, yours kept record of the most painful ones that left his lips.

you’re just too much.

i can’t love you the way you expect me to.

i’m ending this.

i’m sorry, but i can’t deal with this, with you, anymore.

it keeps repeating like a song once loved, now loathed left on repeat, and a stop button might be somewhere but you can’t bring yourself to turn it off. it reminds you of that habit you secretly developed when you had two large bruises on both your knees after a nasty fall, bone hitting pavement. nothing bled, which was a relief to the new babysitter as no bright band-aids would be blatant proof of her lack of attention on the kid she was supposed to keep watch on. blood kept within the skin, nothing left to do but to watch your body slowly take it back. you were curious of how the color changes each day, the angry reds bleeding into dark purples that resemble galaxies that you’d see on your astronomy books. one day spent examining your bruises again, you pressed on the reddish purple one too hard and tears spring up your eyes when the sting hits. but as it lingered and faded, a strange feeling of satisfaction replaced it, and you felt the urge to press on it again, curious to see if the same unknown feeling makes an appearance again. It does, and the fascination as you play in between the lines of pain and pleasure follows you as you grew up. Curious, you once read up on it from those muggle books, where you learn that the body itself releases pain-killing hormones that help relieve the perception of pain, leading to a temporary feeling of relief.

you knew thinking about sirius’ words will never not hurt, will continue to bury you in a deepening hole that you have to fight to the nails to crawl out of, but you couldn’t stop.

It gave deep seated satisfaction to that green monster in the back of your mind, responsible for only seeing the negative in each situation you find yourself in. ‘i told you so,’ it says in a tinny singsong voice, clearly pleased with each iteration of sirius’ words and the raw metal stabbing your heart each time.

it also serves like a constant reminder of your failure. Failure to love like a decent person, failure to be the person that sirius needed, failure to gauge what was too much that the other person drowned without you knowing, failure to protect yourself and your dignity from being trampled on like nothing, and failure to just simply accept the fact that love just wasn’t made for people like you.

being friends with lily made you forget a lot of things, fundamental parts that you realized so young. you knew better, should have after everything you’ve gone through, but somehow with her, anything seemed possible, achievable, tangible when you’re a kind person. marlene would always say, doing good things meant you can expect to receive good things back from the universe.

and for the most part it seemed to always work that way. you’d witnessed james nurture the simple appreciation he had on lily’s genuine smile at him that eased his nerves while they were in line to get sorted into houses throughout the years, growing as he’d gotten to know her innate kindness and wit, and finally erupting from him like rays of sunlight until he became brave enough to speak it out loud starting fourth year.

Even though the marauders had acted questionably during their early years of exploring their pranking abilities, james had always been full of love. Never hesitating to share it to those he truly cared for. it took lily years to accept this, and more to gain courage and let herself experience it.

by 7th year, you never believed a love could thrive like that whilst cradled with such young hands until you saw james and lily do it effortlessly.

so what part of this could’ve made you think otherwise?

were you to blame for believing in that fantasy, that something like this could be attainable for someone like you, too?

you had always housed deep adoration and awe for sirius black, like many others, despite his wild reputation and scandalous rumors that seem to always follow when his name gets uttered.

why? Because he was once the raven haired boy who slipped the trolley witch a few sickles when he saw you return the pumpkin pasty after realizing you couldn’t afford it.

it had been a gloomy tuesday. the trolley witch was supposed to go compartment by compartment, but the bumbling first years seemed to miss that memo and started piling up close to the cart to see what was being sold that she had to force them all in a line. you were quiet and unobtrusive as you stood patiently in line; which was nothing compared the boys’ raucous laughters and animated chatter behind you. sirius would’ve accidentally pushed or stepped on you if he didn’t see your figure. the train was loud and so was james’ mouth, so excited to be away from his parents and to have his first official Hogwarts friend, but sirius also stood close enough to you that he could hear your stomach grumbling and see your arms crossed over your midsection. he admitted once that he found the gurgling sounds funny (like an eleven year old would do) but he didn’t have the heart to poke fun at you because he remembered he’d hear the same thing from his own when his parents would send him to bed without eating.

even before your turn, you were already overwhelmed at the amount of food and candy available, none of which sounds or looks remotely familiar to what you’ve had growing up. your heartbeat picked up when you heard loud sighs, feet tapping impatiently (both James) snorting and shushing (sirius), and just grabbed something that resembled bread, quickly apologizing to the witch that gave you a kind smile. you hadn’t eaten anything as you rushed to pack the mismatched, secondhand supplies that the headmaster had sent you, and you were dropped off to the station just in time before the train left. your fingers trembled in excitement to finally eat and in hunger as you fished out your coin purse. It took a few seconds before it sunk in that you don’t have enough to buy your pasty. How embarassing.

You swallowed your tears back, willing the hateful voice in your head to keep quiet for a minute or two, just enough time to put back the pasty and run to your deserted compartment, where you could freely go to town beating yourself up for your stupidity. Just quick enough so no one will notice.

It took three deep breaths before the dam opened, for the tears to run uncontrollably down your cheeks. You couldn’t even wipe it off because your hands were still clutching your stomach, trying to ease the growling, gnawing pain. Pathetic.

The compartment door opened and you didn’t even hear someone clearing their throat, only looking up when a hand dropped three pasties, a chocolate frog, and a bottle of pumpkin juice on your lap. Barely balancing it, you looked up to see who took pity on you, but only caught a glimpse of stark raven hair and alabaster skin.

you’d find him later during sorting, squeezed between three boys that couldn’t seem to shut up about what house they thought the other would go. not used to kindness, much less from a complete stranger, you hesitated approaching him. but fate always had a weird way of showing you it does listen to your wishes once in a while and you found yourself later on, scooting a bit to your left to make space for him on the bench of your shared house. you both exchanged a knowing smile, and you’d always remember him like that. The kind boy who gave you a feast even without knowing who you were.

you’d remember that boy when the pouring rain had finally soaked through your thick coat as you waited patiently for him at madam puddifoot’s on your first Valentine’s day. Despite the fact that he was already two hours late and the cafe would be closing soon, you chose to wait.

you’d remember that kind boy when some mean ravenclaw girls in class would pick on you for the most absurd things, embarrassment coursing through your veins as you looked back at him desperately for some reprieve, only for him to avoid your gaze and continue to guffaw at something James said, effectively ignoring your existence.

You once asked him why. It was embarrassing how quick he figured out what you were really asking. In fact, he knew a lot of things: that he didn’t deserve your love (or anyone’s for that matter), that someone as pure and selfless as you shouldn’t even associate with the likes of him, and that he was aware of every single thing he does that shatters you whole. He knew that he should tread this conversation gently, to not let his claws rip further skin more than he already has, but the Black darkness has its way of slithering out of the deep recesses he tries to bury it in.

Words leave him exasperatedly, like he’s not spouting words that cut through skin. “I’d been clear to you right from the start, of what I can give you and what I can’t. You knew what you were getting into, Y/N. you put this onto yourself.”

He storms back into his dorm before he could hear your quiet sobs echo through the empty common room.

—-

lily knew in the back of her mind that this wasn’t just a simple, silly request now, but more of an obligation to her closest friend.

it’s been three weeks. three excruciating weeks to be handed and given and filled with so much love she didn’t need to ask for, whilst seeing her best friend chip away with the lack of, like a once-bright porcelain doll that was abandoned and exposed to the direct heat of the sun.

you had finally gone silent by last week, like a shut door. refusing to eat, go to class, speak—- hell, lily bets, if you could also not breathe by choice, you wouldn’t. It’s like youre keeping everything you once had given to the world thoughtlessly, close. Dorcas thinks you were keeping close to heart the mundane things that make you alive, to remind yourself that you still are. She had said, like air to a balloon. lily cried herself to sleep that night, the thought of losing such a fundamental part of her life, you, inch by inch, day by day, in front of her very eyes was a haunting, damning thought. Something that she and you both thought would come so much more years later, with unsurmountable memories, many glasses of champagne and slices of cake, wrinkles and smile lines, more laughter and loving hugs exchanged.

she had thought the silence was a welcoming sign of change. A necessary step towards acceptance and moving on. she was relieved when your crying stopped, tremors leaving your fingers, and there was a chance again for the redness to vacate the whites of your eyes. She held hope that she and the girls can start working on instilling your light back, hopeful that a few months from now their star can find its way back to its rightful place in the sky and everything could be okay once again.

Lily looked forward to nights that were filled by snores and shuffling of sheets, not the unmistakable sound of your feet on the wooden floors, misjudging that everyone was asleep, the muffled creak of the dorm room door opening and closing, and your footsteps fading in the dark. She’d wait fifteen to thirty minutes (the longest was an hour or two on the first night) before she’d hear you return, footsteps still light but she could hear the slight drag in each step, almost as if it was taking so much of your might to even make it to the bed. the quiet whimpers would start, followed by muffled hiccups lily knew only happens when you cry too hard. it took so much of her to exercise self-restraint, to keep herself on her own bed and not lay beside you and hug you as if it’s something that could put you back together.

She has to turn her back on you even if it felt like raw betrayal.

Because that one time she didn’t, she couldn’t forget the look of horror, dejection, desperation, and pure unbridled embarrassment on your face when you realized she knew what you were up to late at night. She knew you came up to the boys’ dormitory, crawling into sirius’ bed, where you begged and begged for him to take you back, that you’ll be a better more doting and loving girlfriend this time around, that you won’t be too attached this time and will give him the necessary space and time he needs so he doesn’t feel suffocated, that you’ll be anything, do anything just for him to welcome you back into his arms and whisper sweet nothings in your ear until your throat was raw, and sirius has to physically take you back to the start of the staircase to your dormitory.

this happened for days and days on end until the boys had to lock their door at night, or whenever sirius is in.

james couldn’t meet lily’s eyes when he’d ask for her help to keep you apart from Sirius as it would do you no good. they had gotten into a fight because of this, because lily heard nothing but ‘stop her from making a fool of herself’ and her best friend is the smartest intuitive empathetic kindest witch she had ever met; the farthest thing from a fool.

But one day those very words came off your lips with a hollow laugh. “But I am a fool, Lily. No one in their right mind would even do half the things I do.” It would be hypocritical for lily to deny sneaking out at night and crawling into your ex’s bed and begging for him to take you back as something of a desperate fool would do. A girl once had chased and pined for Remus during the entirety of fifth year and the things she did to get his attention were laughable at that time. But she didn’t plan to see the same, even worse, done by her best friend, and she still couldn’t wouldn’t call you a fool.

After all, your only fault was that you loved. And that shouldn’t even be a fault because that’s what she did with James, marlene with dorcas, her father with her mother. even someone as selfish as petunia could find love and be loved right back.

you of all people deserved to love and be loved right back after everything you’d been through, and james would say the same thing for sirius as well.

but sirius was a complex person, lily could recite this on top of her head from endless times where you stood your ground, defending sirius’ honor like he’d see your great martyrdom and suddenly consider you once again worthy of his love and affection. Before, she knew of sirius as a friend and James’ brother— but she knew more than what she signed up for because you’d fill in the gaps for her when she’d try to beat some sense into you during the unacceptable treatment you’d accept from sirius.

You’d say with such confidence “he loves me, he’s just going through a lot right now, especially after that howler his mother sent him a few days ago.”

You didn’t have to elaborate, lily remembered that day vividly, not because of the way sirius’ face fell when the howler began its assault had reminded her so much of how she’d react after getting bitter letters from petunia, but because that same day she saw sirius being manhandled by a hufflepuff, both kiss sick and all over each other, into a secluded broom closet.

It was years worth of push or pulls, of moral dilemmas that would get the outspoken redhead to choke on her words, and dejectedly sweep them under the rug out of your sight. Because the beaming smile and flushed cheeks you’d sport when Sirius murmurs sweet nothings in your ear, the weight on your shoulders dissipating when tucked in his arms, the jump in your step whenever he’d kiss you on the forehead and wish you good luck for the day— Lily couldn’t bear the thought of robbing you with those moments of bliss, even when it’s all done in private.

So in an empty classroom on a gloomy Tuesday afternoon, she points her wand at you, fingers trembling and tears trailing down her cheeks, but you don’t see any of these. Instead, your beautiful features wear a serene expression that weakens lily’s knees. Oh how she missed her dearest friend. She’d do anything in the world to get you back, hold your hand, and dance with you in the autumn rain.

So she does the wand movement like she practiced for days and takes a breath. She pictures you and Sirius happily dancing barefoot during the yule ball, your blushed cheeks when you told her about the feel of his lips on yours for the first time, you on sirius’ shoulders as you carried the quidditch cup, both smiling big as remus snaps a picture from the muggle camera, you drifting off to sleep on sirius’ shoulder while your hands were laced as you rode the train back to hogwarts.

Before mumbling the incantation, obliviate.

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ssparksflyy · 7 months

Note

percy x zeus!gf hcs pls!!! and could i request it to be more on the funny side and how percy and zeus have beef but also get along cuz of gf

ask and thou shall receive ༉‧₊˚.

percy jackson dating hcs ! ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

pairing: percy jackson x daughter of zeus!reader warning(s): little bit of swearing an: hi! ty for requesting <3 im literally not even funny but i hope u enjoy thissss! also theres a lotta taylor in this one 🤭

BIG REPUTATION BIG REPUTATION OHHH YOU AND ME WE GOT BIG REPUTATIONS AHHH

it doesnt matter if youre a social butterfly or antisocial, everybody knew you and percy before you even started dating

so best believe when you actually got together, everybody ( literally ) cheered

but your flirting era had to be on of the most painful things to watch

seriously doesnt matter if you got game or not, percy is literally oblivious and a LOSERRRRR

im so sorry but somebody had to say it

bro had THE BIGGEST crush on you and whenever he'd try to like compliment you itd usually sound a little weird

tell me why he'd probably say something like

"i like your outfit today! that shirt for sure looks better with those jeans than it did with the shorts you wore 2 weeks ago :)"

lil creep

cue silena crying in the corner because she made a bet with beckendorf and it is NOT looking good for her right now

WE NEVER GO OUT OF STYLE.

you guys are iconic

like well-known power couple

I'D be scared to train with you guys cause like what do you MEAN i gotta go against the best swordsmen at camp and the daughter of the king of the gods??

no thank you, i choose life ♡

when people are asked to think of a couple, they immediately think of you guys

everybody loves you guys for real

if you ever broke up ( which you wont, percy would probably just say "no" ) itd probably leave everybody super torn

ITD BE LIKE IN GILMORE GIRLS WHEN LORELAI AND LUKE BROKE UP AND THE WHOLE TOWN LIKE TOOK SIDES

if you havent watched gilmore girls, that basically sums the situation up. lorelai is literally like the town's sweetheart and luke is the owner of the most popular diner in their small town ♡ very cutesy

so sorry for the spoiler

SALLY LOVESSS YOU

she's literally so sweet and treats you as if you were her own child

she'd definitely bake cookies when you first meet and if you liked them, you best believe you are being sent back to camp with a baggie full of cookies

cant love you as much as percy does though !!

youre literally his queen

( sorry i say literally a lot )

he treats you like royaltyyyyy

always opening doors for you, walks you everywhere, follows the sidewalk rule, everything ♡

when its raining, he picks you up bridal style and takes you wherever you need to go, so you dont get your shoes wet ♡♡

yall literally live in the rain tho

neither of you leave your cabin with an umbrella, the rain just gives you life

AND I DONT KNOW WHY BUT WITH YOU ID DANCE IN A STORM IN MY BEST DRESS FEARLESS

one time, you went out for a fancy dinner, got dressed up all nice very fancy very fancy

BUT you BOTH forgot to check the weather

and it ended up POURING rain by the time you got out of the restaurant

and i kid you not

percy just grabs you by the hand, leads you out into the rain, and begins to dance with you.

no coverage, no music, no fucks given. just him and his girl.

he treasures that moment forever and ever

all the gods looked down at you from olympus and melted

neither of you care if you're disrespecting your fathers, you spend almost every night together ♡

percy is absolutely a big cuddler

literally just adores the feeling of you close to him

oh lord save him his drug is his baby he'll be using for the rest of his life

falling asleep together is so easy, you just melt into each other's touch

waking up is what's harder

neither of you want to leave the bed, and neither of you want the other person to leave the bed either.

percy's the typa guy to just have a sweet little conversation with you before he gets up for the day

you always get a good morning ( and a good night! ), then percy asks you what's on your schedule for the day ( as if he hasn't memorized it by now ), and what you wanted for breakfast that morning

he simply cannot get up without it

he's also the type of guy to just whisper sweet nothings into your ear if he wakes up before you ♡

he just goes on a little ramble about how pretty you look when your sleeping, even though you are sleeping while he's 'talking' to you

sorry where was i?

ZEUS.

the bastrard HATES percy and percy HATES the bastard

theyve literally been beefing since he was 12 years old

so best believe when zeus found out his daughter was dating this son of poseidon??? oo he was PISSEDDD.

poseidon is literally so chill with you. like he just cares that percy is happy. seriously doesn't care about who your dad is. if anything, he already sees you as family

zeus holds back everything in him to not kill percy on the spot every time you make out

he doesn't do it because he knows you'd probably walk to the underworld to get him back and hades would go feral if he got another orpheus & eurydice

percy gives zero fucks. he flips off the sky every time he walks outside

percy is so sweet and caring and kind and shows your father such respect like hes literally an angel 😇😇

i wouldn't say that he starts like actually respecting him, but he tries not to offend him as often as usual, just for you ♡

in the scenario that you'd have to make a trip to olympus, percy and zeus put on their big boy pants and try to tolerate each other

hera dont like you or percy bro she's literally just there

its okay though, you both despise her for kidnapping percy and wiping his memory ♡♡♡

JASON AND THALIA HOWEVER

thalia would definitely be the dramatic dad that zeus cant be (in person, at least)

whenever she and the hunters stay at camp she ( jokingly ) tells percy

"jackson, i want her home by NINE PEE EM. no later. i expect you won't be drinking, and you will be TAKING CARE OF HER. in the instance that i hear you DONT, i think you'll be taking a second trip across the river styx, you hear me?"

in like an sergeant voice and everything

percy plays along with it and salutes her going "yes ma'am!"

jason thinks you are so cute together

since you were at camp when the whole switcheroo thing happened, jason knew you first, and you were instantly best buddies

you told him about percy, and once he met him, he was happy to find out he was exactly like you described him

jason and thalia are ur #1 supporters ♡

in summary, alexa play that should be me

#percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #hoo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #percy jackson x you #by bells ♡⋆ ࣪.#seaweed brain ⋅˚₊‧𓇼

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fools-ramblings-and-whatnot · 12 days

Note

Yuu transitioning their kisses to Vil from book 5-7

Book 5:

-After seeing how harsh Vil is to Epel: Blow kiss(angry)

-After OB: forehead

-After VDC: Top of head

Book 6:

That one scene where Vil kissed Yuu, Rook and Epel; Yuu kissed Vil back(u decide where)

Book 7:

-Yuu giving him the pout kiss before going to anotger dream and foreheads kisses every after landing

Eventually, in the future, Yuu kisses him on the lips:)

BIG BRAIN ANON!!!

Let's premise that Vil isn't aware of Yuu's custom, but he DID hear that the Prefect of Ramshackle was overly affectionate. Meanwhile Yuu has kept themselves in check, withholding doing their custom with strangers.

...

There were a lot of times during VDC practice that he saw them blowing secret flying kisses at him, but he didn't comment on it, taking it as them having a crush on him. In a way, who wouldn't? As long as Yuu was doing their job as a manager, he can keep letting them do their secret flying kiss rituals.

Vil observes, however, that Yuu had a tendency to kiss Deuce, Ace, Kalim's and even Jamil's head after practice, meanwhile they just offer a congratulations to the him and his Dorm members. Vil raises an eyebrow at this, Jamil shrugs. Vil warns you from kissing the boys, as it seems like its distracting them. Yuu blew him a flying kiss when he turned, much to Rook's amusement and Epel's surprise.

...

Vil was too busy perfecting the routine, succumbing to his jealousy and everything else leading to VDC that even he did see the Prefect seem to have a pattern in their affectionate gestures, he didn't think about it much.

...

The first thing Vil felt, except for body pain, when he woke up from his Overblot is soft lips on his forehead. Although Epel and Rook was supporting his upper body, it was Yuu who held his face up tenderly. They didn't really say anything, opting to give his forehead another peck, this one a bit lingering, as if they were trying to convey a deep message.

...

After VDC, despite the devastating results, everyone seems to be having fun. Neige pulled the NRC team to the stage and everyone joined in the song and dance.

MC/Yuu went down stage and took pictures of the team. Once the dance ended, they returned back stage to congratulate the SQUAD. perhaps it was due to pure giddiness, that finally finally the day is over, they couldn't help themselves but offer the whole team a quick peck on the top of the head. For Ace and Deuce, it was second nature to bow down a little so Yuu could reach the top of their heads, so they did so unconsciously. For the Scarabia Duo, much to Jamil's annoyance, he bowed unconsciously while Kalim returned the gesture. Rook, understanding of what's happening, leaned down so Yuu could reach. Epel couldn't even say no as the Adeuce Duo held him up so that Yuu could kiss him, Deuce whispering to the lilac hair boy what the meaning of it was as quick as he could.

When it came to Vil, Yuu look at them expectedly. Vil raised an eyebrow. They can't possibly think he'd just let them kiss him again, he was semi-unconscious before, but now he is fully awake. When he doesn't budge and Yuu kept staring expectingly, he just sighed and instead patted their head."Yes. Good job."

...

Vil found out the meaning of the kiss gesture after the event, with Rook and Epel explaining it to him, a piece of paper in Epel's hand full of Deuce's writings explaining what each kiss placement meant. Rook kept praising the romance and beauty of it all, Epel was cringing insidde because it was kinda sappy and Vil...Vil was recollecting the feeling of Yuu's lips on his forehead.

...

Jump to chapter 6.

Vil's kiss on Yuu's cheek really caught them off guard. But it also kinda made them giddy and maybe it melted their brains a little.

"May I?" they asked.

Vil, expecting that Yuu would give him a kiss of thanks for his praise, offered both hands. Yuu, instead held both his hands, pulled him closed, leaned their head forward, and kissed his jaw. "I believe we all hold the same sentiments." Then they kissed his forehead. " You did well, enduring all this time." They said, all innocent and smiling, unaware of how that affected Vil inside. If they weren't in a life-death situation he thought of reciprocating the actions in a way that Yuu would truly understand the depths of his feelings.

...

After the events of Chapter 6, Vil is steadfast in reminding the Prefect not to get excited and forget their self-restraint. In a way, Yuu was just like Epel, who needed to unlearn their habits. It's not that Yuu's habit was bad, it just that it doesn't translate well in Twst, especially in NRC. Yuu needed to learn to adjust.

Therefore, while Yuu and Grim stayed in Pomefiore while their dorm was getting renovated, Vil took the time to help Yuu have a bit more of self-restraint. Granted that, although he did not wanted to admit it, he kind of misses their greeting kisses and excitable "you did well" kisses. He is fond of their air kisses, a kiss if not done quickly enough, looks like a pout, whenever Yuu wants to indicate that Vil should trust them more.

Sometimes, Vil wonders what the I love you kiss is like, it was never on the list..

But maybe it was this?

Unconsciously, as he brushed their hair one night, chiding them for getting knots on it, Vil made the move of leaning down to Yuu's eye level." You should trust me on this, I know what's best and I am looking out for you." He says, voice mixed with assertiveness and concern.

Yuu pulled his neck closer, taking him by surprise. " May I?" They asked.

Vil didn't stop them. He nodded, observing.

Yuu pulled him close, their face nearing their neck. For a moment Vil was afraid they hate him and was gonna kiss his neck.

The Prefect instead moved his hair out of the way, landing a soft lingering kiss on his nape. "I trust you, Vil-senpai." They say.

If Yuu pertained to his hair care routine, he didn't care. Right then and their, he pulled them closer. Landing a fervent kiss on their lips.

Yuu turned red, flustered.

Cute.

"Ah, Vil..?! Are you...confessing to me?!"

The blonde beauty smirked. "I don't know, it's your language." He teased.

To find other related post in my blog, the tag is #TwstKissAU

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #ramblings #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #epel felmier #deuce spade #ace trapola #kalim al asim #jamil viper #TwstKissAU

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oraclemoontarot · 1 month

Text

what is the connection between the both of you -> romantic 𓂃⊹ pac tarot reading

from left to right, top to bottom -> pile 1, pile 2, pile 3, pile 4

this is just a short and simple reading, kind of like a filler. I got new oracle cards and wanted to try them out, so I hope they resonated !! <3

paid readings

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

pile 1 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

cards pulled: benefit of the doubt, forever young, manifesting 'the one', self love, natural evolution

This may be someone who you currently have a friendship with where there is this fun and playfulness to your relationship - there may be a lot of jokes, activities, teasing, and overall something light-hearted.

This connection is one that is meant to unfold naturally and with time, rather than jumping straight into the deep-end before even learning how to swim. It is important that you practice self-love, be a little more self-focused, and take things one step at a time. Enjoy the relationship in which the two of you share as this seems like, through doing so, a relationship will likely follow!

At the moment, your person has doubts on whether they should pursue something more with you. They enjoy the friendship or relationship the both of you share at the moment, but once you practice more self-love and go with the flow of things, it will develop on its own. The natural evolution oracle says it perfectly, 'let the situation unfold naturally'.

pile 2 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

cards pulled: friendly support, signs and clues, soulmate, reaching out, marriage

Can I just say, this is such a beautiful pile??? Your guides, even your friends, are giving you signs that this person is your soulmate and may even be the person you end up marrying.

The strongest message here is to listen to the signs, to trust your intuition. I'm not sure if you have doubts on this connection, maybe you're unsure or afraid? But this person is, at the very least, someone you'd have a long and meaningful relationship with.

If you're not in contact at the moment, they will reach out! But, if you are in contact, they may confess or invite you out somewhere, maybe even start to communicate more frequently and directly with you. It feels like such a beautiful connection pile 2.

pile 3 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

cards pulled: tease, marriage, let go of the past, love language - physical touch, natural evolution

I'm getting a few messages from this pile, so take what resonates!!

This could be someone you have a physical connection with or at the very least feel very attracted to. You may have previously got out of a long-term or meaningful relationship, and for this other person to be a significant person in your life, it would take a while for it to evolve into something more - from getting over your past partner.

It could also be that, for this to evolve into something more, rather than having been in a relationship before, it may be certain energies, pain, emotions etc. that are affecting you. To let love into your life, it is important that you first heal. The connection between you and your person is amazing. The physical attraction is there, there is so much light-heartedness and flirting and it's exhilarating, but it is important that whatever is holding you back internally, is dealt with to the best of your ability.

This connection will unfold naturally, so don't stress, it is okay to take your time.

pile 4 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

cards pulled: falling in love, love language - affirmations, natural evolution, perfect match, guided steps to great love

This connection feels almost like a slow burn. The feelings may have developed suddenly between the two of you, but there is this pentacles like movement, it's slow, cautious, yet natural. It's like going with the flow, see where things go, where it leads you two.

When your person has feelings, they show it through their words. They don't hold back with how they feel. If they like you, they'd say it. If they think you look good, they'd say it. It's honest and sweet.

The both of you would be the perfect match for one another. If you are friends, you notice that incredibly well within that connection. Maybe you share the same sense of humour or views. You're like two pieces of a puzzle, you fit together amazingly. It feels like whether you date or remain friends, it would bring you happiness either way as they're someone you'd want in your life regardless, and they likely feel the same!

Maybe that's why there's this go with the flow energy, as it's perfect the way it is, but if it leads to something more, that would be just as wonderful.

#tarot #tarot reading #free tarot #daily tarot #tarot community #pac reading #pick a pile #tarot pick a card #pick a card #pac tarot #love tarot reading #love tarot #love reading

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pedrospatch · 1 year

Text

to hell and back l one

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l main masterlist l next chapter

summary: After escaping a group of brutal slavers, you are left with permanent physical and emotional scars. Unwilling to put your trust in another human being ever again, you spend a year fighting for survival alone in the post outbreak world. But when you choose to save the life of a man named Joel Miller, the wall that you’ve built to protect yourself slowly begins to crumble.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI. canon violence, canon language, brief mentions of slavers, brutality, torture, assault, guns, reader is an archer, mentions of hunting, animal death, injured/unconscious Joel, very minor mentions of blood, age gap (reader is 30, Joel is 56) very brief mention of scars, reader does not/cannot speak at times, a lot of internal dialogue from reader, at one point reader does try to speak to Joel but she is unable. *please be advised that no specific diagnosis is used or will be mentioned, i’m writing the series with the idea that reader herself cannot fully comprehend her inability to speak at times. basically the gist of it is we have a very traumatized person who does not realize just how traumatized she is.

word count: 8.2k (good lord I am so sorry)

a/n: not a whole lot to say except for that this is...different. at least i think it is, i could be wrong lmao. this is by far one of the most challenging things i have ever decided to write, but hopefully it turned out okay

California l Fall, 2023

You’d been on the run since dawn.

It was several hours later now and nightfall was approaching—and it was approaching a hell of a lot fucking faster than you could have even anticipated. The darkness was quickly closing in, falling around you like a velvet black curtain. However, stumbling around blindly in the dark was currently the very least of your worries.

Your feet were raw, both completely blistered and bleeding through your socks inside of your worn out, muddied white canvas sneakers. Your sore, aching legs screamed out for mercy and your knees trembled violently, threatening to buckle out from underneath the weight of your body at any given moment.

In the week and a half leading up to your escape from captivity, you’d been deprived of both food and water—it had been your punishment for closing your eyes and turning your head away after you’d been instructed by the slavers to watch their brutal assault of the young teenaged girl that you had been sharing a cage with. She’d been unable to keep up with her work duties, and they had decided to make an example out of her.

Despite still having been forced to witness the horrendous, unspeakable things they’d done to that poor girl, your initial resistance resulted in you being beaten and then starved for several days. Occasionally, one of the late night guards would try and bribe you, offering a small piece of jerky or a couple of stale crackers in exchange for a blowjob. At first, you told him you’d rather cut your own tongue out with a rusty blade than suck his dick, but when he proposed the disgusting, vile trade again just a couple of nights later, you’d accepted it—because him pulling you out of that fucking cage after hours and removing the tight shackles from your wrists when no one else was around would give you the chance to finally make a run for it.

You swung yourself around the nearest redwood tree, slumping back against its thick, wide trunk. You covered your mouth with your two hands in an attempt to silence the sound of your heavy panting.

Besides being in pain, malnourished and severely dehydrated, the exhaustion was starting to set in too. The adrenaline pumping through your veins had brought you this far, but exactly how much farther could it take you? How much longer could it possibly keep you going before your tired body decided to give up and give out?

Somewhere behind you, you could hear the men calling out cheerfully.

One sang out, “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

“Come out and plaaaaay,” a second taunted.

The third shouted, “We’re gonna get you!”

Their giddiness made you want to vomit. If your stomach hadn’t been empty, you would have.

Those sick, twisted fucks weren’t letting up.

They’d been on your heels for hours.

The large group of slavers in California were over two hundred strong and had dozens of prisoners chained up in their human cages—they had more than enough people to force into labor. There was no need for them to waste their time and efforts going after you, but after spending the last eight months witnessing firsthand how these sadistic bastards operated, it occurred to you that their desire to recapture you wasn’t out of a need for labor. It was for their entertainment.

They were hunting you down for sport.

This was their idea of fun.

“Fuck,” you whispered underneath your breath, your hands falling down to your sides.

Something had to give.

Your legs, your body, your will to live.

Perhaps all of the above.

You couldn’t keep on running for much longer.

And even if you could, where the hell were you supposed to go? How were you supposed to get there?

You had no food, no water, and no weapon.

Just the torn, tattered clothes on your back.

You were defenseless against whatever else was out there and you couldn’t see yourself surviving longer than a couple of days at most.

There was a part of you that wanted to give up and surrender. If you could be absolutely certain that they would shoot you dead on the spot, you would actually consider it and step out from behind the tree—hell, you would happily let them put a bullet between your eyes and put you out of your misery once and for all. But they wouldn’t be so generous. You knew they would have their way with you here in the middle of this forest and only after they were done would they take you back to their settlement where they’d put you right back in shackles so the real torture could begin. Just like that teenaged girl, the slavers would make an example out of you so that nobody else in their right mind would even think about running away.

They would be sure to make your death as slow and as agonizing as possible.

No. If you were going to die, then you were going to die. But fucking not like that.

Hearing them draw closer towards where you’d been hiding, you pushed yourself away from the redwood and willed yourself to keep on going.

Wyoming l Fall 2024

Your eyes softly flutter open.

Bright, early morning sunlight filters in through the ripped, white lace curtains that hang over the small, square shaped window right above your head.

Blinking the sleep away, you prop yourself up slightly on your elbows and take a glance around at your surroundings. The old, abandoned cabin that you’d stumbled across just a couple of days ago is tiny, cramped, and crumbling. It also reeks—it smells damp, musty, and earthy, like rotting wood. But beggars can’t be choosers and you are certainly in no position to be a chooser right now. It’s not what you consider to be ideal, but it’s four walls and a roof, which is more than anyone can ask for. It’s sparsely furnished with a table and two chairs, an old wood burning stove you had been too afraid to light because you didn’t want to risk setting the place on fire, and there’s even a small, twin sized bed for you to sleep on. Well, perhaps calling it a bed was a tad bit too generous. It’s really just a mattress sitting on four large concrete blocks. It’s rough, dirty, and torn with rusted springs and bits of fluff sticking out from every corner. Still, it sure as fuck beat the hell out of sleeping outside in the dirt and using a rock as a pillow.

Besides the luxury of having something close to a proper roof to sleep under, there’s also a lake just two and a half miles north of the cabin where you had been able to fill your canteen with fresh water. Not to mention, you’d also been able to bathe and wash your clothes for the first time in a couple of weeks. You had been on your own for about a year now, and this was the luckiest you’ve gotten in terms of finding a decent place to stay.

Whether or not it’s safe, it was still too early to tell.

Sure, you were out somewhere in the middle of bumfuck nowhere and hadn’t seen a single soul, living or dead, in a couple of months now. But that still didn’t mean that running into the infected or other people wasn’t a possibility. Letting your guard down was risky. Too risky.

You swing your legs over the side of the mattress and sit up, slipping on your pair of warm, wool socks before tugging on your boots—you’d found them over the summer and even though they had been about one size too small for you, you’d managed to break them in since then and the supple brown leather now molds almost perfectly to your feet. You stand up and lift your arms up above your head while simultaneously twisting your stiff, sore back in a painful, but much needed stretch. You’re only just a couple of months shy of turning thirty years old, but lately, your bones snap, crackle and pop with each and every movement, making you feel twice your actual age.

The thought of it makes you snort in amusement. You should be so lucky to stay alive long enough to see the age of sixty. Hell, you’re still unable to fathom how you’d even made it this close to seeing thirty.

Dropping your arms back down to your sides, you make your way over to your khaki colored pack and pull out your aluminum canteen from one of the side pockets. You twist off the cap and gulp back a long, cool drink of water, hoping to get rid of the dryness in your mouth and the cracks in your chapped lips. As soon as the liquid makes it all the way down to the pit of your stomach, the hollow, muscular organ grumbles loudly, demanding food. You’d had some decent luck while out hunting the previous morning, capturing two wild rabbits—you had eagerly skinned, cleaned and cooked them both, devouring one right after the other so fast that it had nearly made you sick. It had been a pretty decent meal, but not nearly enough to completely satisfy your ravenous hunger. Prior to finding the cabin and settling in, you had been living off of a couple handfuls of nuts and berries for three days while on the move. You were still fucking starving and all you could do was pray that you’d find more rabbits today.

Maybe you’d get even luckier and spot a pheasant. It was their season, after all.

You drink some more water and set your canteen aside. You’d planned to return to the lake later in the afternoon to refill it as well as to have another bath. You pull on your faded, black denim jacket over your hoodie and pick up the wooden bow and brown leather quiver of arrows sitting beside your pack. You’d found the weapon in some hunting shop back in Utah that had already been picked clean to the bone over the last couple of decades. However, no one had even bothered with taking the bow. It hadn’t really surprised you, though. In the post outbreak world, a bow and arrow would do absolutely nothing to protect against the infected runners and stalkers—and it would do much less to protect against clickers unless your aim was flawless.

Still, a bow was useful in its own right.

It was perfect for hunting game. It was silent, keeping you and your location concealed from potential passersby at all times. Most importantly, you could reuse your arrows so long as you were careful and didn’t break them while removing them from your kills—and in the event that you did happen to snap an arrow, all you had to do was salvage what you could from the damaged projectile and make a new one. Simple as that.

Your father had taught you how before he’d died.

“Why bother with a bow? What about a gun?” you had asked him.

“Might not always be able to get your hands on a gun,” he’d replied as he sharpened an edge of the small, thumb sized rock in his hand. “Or bullets. It doesn’t hurt to have alternatives in the event that you can’t get your hands on either of those things, kiddo.” Despite being in your mid twenties at the time, he’d still always call you kiddo. “Always have a backup weapon, alright?”

He’d been wise to give you that advice.

You did have a firearm, a colt pistol that you hardly have ammunition for. There were ten rounds left in the clip and with no luck in finding any more in the last couple of months, you’d decided to preserve them, saving what little bullets you had left for a real emergency. You kept the gun tucked into the waistband of your jeans at all times, along with the sharp switchblade that you used to gut and skin game. As far as weapons go, you sure as hell could’ve been a lot worse off. But if you happened to stumble upon more ammunition for your gun, you certainly wouldn’t complain about it.

Slinging your bow and the quiver of arrows over your shoulder, you grab the dark gray foraging bag that you used to collect and carry your kills in and leave the cabin, feeling somewhat confident enough to leave the remainder of your belongings behind instead of hauling them all along with you like you had the morning before. It wasn’t that you feared someone would come along and steal them. There wasn’t really anything for anyone to steal, anyway. Rather, you’d gotten so damn used to the instability and the constant moving around—you never stayed in one place for too long and were always prepared to run. But today, you decide to leave your things in the cabin, feeling certain that you would return in just a couple of hours.

You step out onto the creaking, three step porch that’s so old it buckles slightly under your weight and a gentle breeze nips at your cheeks and nose. It’s the middle of autumn in Wyoming and the air outside is fresh, cool and crisp. Winter was looming right around the corner like a dark shadow, and although you’d somehow managed to make it through the previous year’s brutal snow season, that didn’t do much to stop you from being nervous about the one that was to come. If all went according to your plan, you’d be holing yourself up in that shoddy little cabin until the worst of winter was over and then you would move along.

To where?

You didn’t have the slightest fucking clue.

You make a short trek about two miles south, going in the opposite direction of the lake and finding yourself closer to the thick forest trees that surrounded the base of the mountain range out in the distance instead. There’s a dried, grassy clearing just feet from the entrance of the forest—finding a single, decently sized boulder in the middle of the wide, open space, you decide that behind it is the perfect spot for you to set up and hope for the best. Carefully setting your things down on the ground, you pull out a pair of old, cracked binoculars from your bag. You lean your body over the smooth, round top of the rock and lift them up to your face, peeking through the lenses. You hope to spot something right away because it sure would be fucking nice to eat something sooner rather than later. Otherwise you might just start gnawing at your own arm.

Diligently, you scan your surroundings for any and all signs of wildlife.

That’s when you see it, standing near the edge of the woods.

You gasp softly as your sights fall upon the deer.

Pulling your face away from your binoculars, you blink furiously before taking another look just to be sure that your eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on you. It’s not a hallucination. It’s a white tailed deer, a female, and from the look of her, she has to be at least about a hundred pounds. At least.

You try to not get too far ahead of yourself, but it’s far too late. The thought of finding some herbs and making a hot, venison stew for supper makes your mouth water. The rest of the meat could be dried out and made into a batch of jerky that could feed you for months. Months.

Then, you suddenly remember you’ve never even attempted to bring down an animal of that size before and you’re slapped back into reality.

You think about your father, who would bring home a deer every weekend after going on his hunting trips with some of his old college buddies. “You want to aim for the heart or the lungs,” he’d say as you and your siblings would watch him dress the carcass, much to your mother’s chagrin. “Look between the shoulder blade and the last rib,” he would tell you and your brothers. You’d also had an older sister, but she had always been incredibly squeamish and had a soul that was much too sweet and caring for hunting. She would always want to bring home every animal your father shot and nurse it back to health. “Somewhere between those two lies everything you need to hit in order to do the job and do it well. And for the love of god, don’t you ever aim directly for the shoulder. Behind it, kiddos, always aim behind it. You got it?”

“Yes Papa,” you’d all chime out together.

Setting down the binoculars in your hands, you reach for your bow and pluck an arrow from your quiver before stepping out from behind the boulder. You’re careful to be as silent as possible as you take a few steps closer towards the unsuspecting grazing animal. You position yourself and stand perpendicular to the deer, placing your feet shoulder width apart—you’re a little farther from your target than you would have preferred, but you don’t want to risk going any closer and scaring her off, so it would have to do. Once you feel comfortable enough with your stance, you nock the arrow and set it on the string. You then hold the string and steady your grip on the bow, relaxing your shoulders before drawing it and pulling your arm back until you’ve reached your anchor point, which is always the corner of your mouth.

Breathe, you remind yourself calmly as you aim at the delicate spot behind her shoulder blade. Nice and slow. Breathe.

Just as you’re about to release the arrow and take your shot, the deer whips her head back towards the trees and her ears prick forward—a split second later, she darts off, zooming across the field in the opposite direction of where you’d been standing.

Your mouth falls open in disbelief.

“Are you fucking shitting me?” you mutter under your breath.

Frustrated, you lower your weapon and just as you start to contemplate whether or not it’s even worth it to try and hunt her down on foot, you suddenly hear something—it isn’t until the noise draws closer to where you’re standing that you realize it’s the sound of a galloping horse.

Perplexed, you squint over in the direction of where you think it’s coming from, right near the edge of the trees. Then, just a moment later, a brown stallion emerges from the woods with a dark haired man riding in his saddle. He holds a rifle in one hand and clutches the reins tightly in the other.

Gasping, you whirl around on the heel of your boot and immediately make a beeline back to the boulder. You swing around the rock and crouch down, ducking out of his sight. You couldn’t be too sure if he’d seen you or not, but it doesn’t matter—a wave of sheer panic washes over you and you can physically feel your own body preparing itself to go into fight or flight mode. Despite having your gun tucked into the waistband of your jeans, you still haven’t reached for it and continue to clutch your bow and arrow in your hands instead.

Swallowing dryly, you turn and carefully lift yourself up just enough so that you can glimpse over the top of the boulder. That’s when you see a second man emerge from the woods. This one is blond and he is on foot instead of a horse. He’s also armed, carrying a shotgun.

“You’re mine you fucking son of a bitch!” he shouts. He lifts his weapon, aims, and then squeezes the trigger, shooting the horse in the side and bringing him down instantly. His rider goes flying off and he hits the ground several feet away from the dead animal, landing so painfully hard that even from a distance you’d manage to hear the loud, cracking sound his body had made upon impact.

You momentarily freeze.

Your heart anxiously jumps up into your throat as you watch the shooter begin to approach him. The attacker moves slowly and with no haste seeing as his helpless victim is lying there motionless on the ground with his eyes closed and no idea that he’s about to die. The blond man comes to a halt just a few feet away from him, grinning as he lifts his shotgun once again and points the barrel of it at the other man’s head. His index finger hovers over the trigger.

Before your mind and body can even make the connection, you rise to your feet and aim your bow, swiftly sending an arrow straight through the blond man’s neck. He crumples, falling to the ground writhing and squirming as he bleeds out in less than sixty seconds.

You wait it out for another minute, refusing to move another muscle until his body finally goes limp and you are certain he’s dead. Taking a look around, you make sure the coast is clear and grab your belongings, slinging them over your shoulder before you make your way over to the scene. Unsure of whether or not there could be others heading in this direction, your plan was to pick off their guns and any other useful supplies before making a run for it back to the cabin. You crouch down beside the man you’d shot and killed, carefully pulling your arrow out of his neck. It makes a loud, horrid squelching sound as you remove it and blood from his jugular splatters your blue jeans. You then pick up his shotgun and check the chamber for ammunition.

Just like the pistol tucked away in your waistband, there’s hardly any rounds left, making it all but useless. Rolling your eyes, you carelessly drop the gun on top of his chest and move on in search of the rifle. You spot it right beside the dark haired man.

Apprehensive, you cautiously make your way over towards him. With how still he had been lying, you could have sworn he was gone—perhaps the fall off of his horse alone had killed him. But just to be sure, you decide to give his side a harsh nudge with the toe of your boot.

He groans and his head rolls to the side.

He’s still alive.

You effortlessly string the bloodied arrow in your hand and aim it right at his chest.

Move again and you’re dead, motherfucker.

“Ellie,” the man mumbles, his eyes still closed.

Ellie?

You slowly lower your bow.

Without realizing it, a little bit of your guard lowers along with it.

Carefully, you sink down onto one knee next to the man and get a better look at him. He’s much older than yourself, somewhere in his fifties if you had to guess. He has harsh forehead lines, deep creases in between his eyebrows, a patchy beard that is speckled with many, many grays, and wild waves of thick hair that look soft to the touch. Though some of his features are a little worse for wear due to his age, he’s still quite a handsome man from what you can see. He also appears to be in decent shape, clean and well fed, and you detect the light scent of laundry soap on his clothes. Surely, he had to have been part of some kind of group, and judging by the leather trimmed saddle on his horse, this group was one that was very well off in this post outbreak world.

You hesitate, but then lift a slightly trembling hand and take the side of his face, cupping it in your palm as you turn his head towards you.

There’s blood on his right temple and your fingers reach up to touch what you had assumed was the source of the bleeding—but then you realize it was a scar, maybe an inch or two in length at most and completely healed. Your fingers trail up even further and venture into his hair which, as it turned out, is in fact just as soft as one would imagine. You find a small gash on his scalp and your fingers become coated in the man’s blood.

Must’ve hit himself on a rock or something.

Your hand leaves his hair and you place it on his broad chest as you begin checking him over for any other potential injuries or wounds. Slipping your opposite hand inside of his brown jacket, you lift the hem of the dark green thermal henley he’s wearing and you discover the scar on his temple isn’t the only one he possesses—he has several more, way too many for you to count on one hand alone. You’re so preoccupied with inspecting the remainder of his abdomen that you don’t even notice the way one of his hands is slowly reaching for yours, the hand that’s still resting on his chest, right over his heartbeat.

Semiconscious, the man takes your hand in his so damn gently that it startles you and takes you by surprise, but it doesn’t frighten you. Weakly, he laces his fingers together with your own and he speaks again, uttering softly, “Babygirl.”

Puzzled, your eyebrows knit together.

It almost sounds like he’s pleading.

For what—for who? For Ellie?

Is she the babygirl he’s referring to?

Your other hand moves up to his shoulder and you give it a violent shake.

Hey, you’ve got to get up now.

“H—” You try to speak the words, but can’t. They’re formed in your mind and it feels like they are right there on the very tip of your tongue, but when you open your mouth, they refuse to come out. You frown.

It’s happened before.

In the spring, you’d stumbled across a small group of people while out hunting in Idaho—it was the first time you had seen other human beings since leaving California in the fall. There had been both men and women and they even had children with them, but that did nothing to stop you from panicking when they’d approached you. One of the women cornered you, trying to tell you that they were traveling across the country to the east coast. “It’s okay,” she’d tried to tell you, holding up her hands. “We’re not bad people, I promise. We’re just trying to get to the quarantine zone in Boston. I think you should come with us, honey.”

You’d been so terrified that when you’d tried to tell her that you didn’t want to join them, you couldn’t push the words out. It felt like your voice had gotten stuck in the back of your throat. That’s how afraid you’d been.

Technically, you can speak.

You’d talk to yourself often when you were feeling lonely. You would read the books you carried in your pack out loud. Hell, you even liked to sing.

But whenever you became stressed, anxious, or scared, it would happen. You’d lose your ability to speak and to communicate—not that you had anyone to communicate with except for yourself, but that’s besides the point. No matter how hard you tried to force your vocal cords, all you could get out were quiet, strangled noises. It was as if your own fears chased your voice away and during periods when you were under extreme distress, it would take several days for you to find it again. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that, whenever you used your voice back in California, it only led to the harshest of punishments.

A gunshot sounds off in the distance, snapping you out of your train of thought.

You shake the man again, harder this time.

Come on, get up! They could be coming this way!

It’s useless. He’s losing complete consciousness.

You hear another gunshot and this one sounds like it’s coming from the base of the mountain range on the other side of the trees, not all too far from where you are. For all you know, it could very well be members of his own group who are firing those weapons out there. But whether it was his group or the other man’s group, it doesn’t really fucking matter. You don’t want to run into either one of them, regardless of who were the good guys and who were the bad guys. In your eyes, everyone’s a fucking bad guy.

Yanking your hand out of his, you get to your feet and prepare to make a run for it. But just as you’re about to take off, the man mumbles one last time. It’s incoherent and barely audible, but you manage to catch that name again. Ellie.

Ellie, Ellie, Ellie.

For some reason you can’t quite explain, that sweet little name bounces around in the inside of your skull.

You chew the inside of your cheek anxiously.

If it’s his group out there, they’ll save him.

If it’s the other man’s group, they’ll kill him.

Normally, you’d have no problem with the idea of leaving another person to die.

After everything that happened in California, you had lost your sense of humanity. Your ability to empathize and actually give a shit about other people had been long gone—or so you’d thought. But you had just saved this man’s life and now you find yourself unwilling to run the risk of leaving him for dead. And you don’t have the slightest fucking clue as to why. He’s a stranger. He shouldn’t matter to you.

You exhale a heavy sigh of defeat.

Okay, how the fuck do I do this?

Without much time left to waste, you gather up your belongings over your shoulder and pick up his rifle, slinging the brown leather strap across your chest so the gun rests comfortably against your backside. You walk around him, lean over, and hook your arms securely underneath his. Using every ounce of physical strength you have inside of you, you start dragging him back to the cabin as fast as you possibly can.

The pretty melody fills his ears as he comes to.

“Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high

there’s a land that I heard of once in a lullaby…”

Joel Miller isn’t all too sure if heaven is a real place that actually exists, but the very minute he hears the feminine voice singing, he can’t help but think he’s died and that’s exactly where he’s gone—because only an angel could possibly have a voice like that. So rich, so smooth, and oh so sickeningly sweet.

“Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue...”

The ballad being sung is all too familiar to him.

The Wizard of Oz had been Sarah’s favorite movie back when she had been a little girl, when she was seven years old and she still believed in princesses and fairy tales and faraway lands with yellow brick roads. Even when she grew older, his daughter continued to hold a soft spot for the film and Joel would watch it with her every Thanksgiving at his parents’ house right after their dinner—it would air on cable and Sarah would beg him to let her have her slice of pecan pie while sitting cross legged on the floor in front of his old man’s television set.

“So long as you don’t make a mess on Nana and PopPop’s carpet,” he’d warn her. “Deal?”

Sarah would beam at him and nod eagerly. “Deal!”

He’d grab his own slice of pie, park it right on the couch behind her, and together they would get lost in the whimsical world of Oz, although admittedly he’d usually fall deep into his food coma long before Dorothy had the chance to make it back home to Kansas.

“Where troubles melt like lemon drops

away above the chimney tops

that’s where you’ll find me...”

The words fade and the rest of the song is now being hummed.

Goddamn, he thinks.Even the humming is too fucking beautiful.

Joel feels a cold, damp cloth dabbing at his sore right temple.

Come to think of it, everything is fucking sore.

Once, when Joel had been in his mid twenties, he had been doing some under the table roofing job with his younger brother, Tommy. It had been the hottest day of the summer in Texas, and the two of them thought having a couple cold beers with their lunch to cool off would be a good idea. The pair of them went back to work and started fucking around, goofing off like the drunk idiots they were. While horsing around, Joel accidentally stumbled right over the edge of the roof and he had fallen about fifteen feet to the ground, landing on his back on Mrs. Adler’s lawn. Luckily, he’d been okay after the fall and hadn’t sustained any serious injuries or broken any bones, but he had spent the following three to four weeks feeling like he’d been hit by a fucking Greyhound.

That’s how he felt now.

Like he’d been hit by a fucking bus. Twice. There isn’t a single part of him that isn’t pulsating with pain—his back, his shoulders, and his head. Oh god, his head feels the worst. It’s fucking killing him.

Joel’s eyelids twitch and he cracks them open ever so slightly, just enough that he can see the silhouette of another person hovering over him. He feels a hand at the crown of his head as the other continues to dab at his temple with the cool cloth. It feels incredible against his warm skin and even sort of soothes the pain.

He lets out a small groan and the humming ceases.

Finally, he manages to force his eyes open.

Joel hears a little gasp and the bed he’s lying on squeaks and shifts. He then hears a loud thumping sound as if something, or someone had fallen to the floor.

Although he’s still disoriented and his entire body aches with even the slightest movement, Joel manages to push himself up into a sitting position. Blinking rapidly, his blurred vision steadies itself after a minute and he glances around. He’s in a small, single room wooden cabin that has seen better days in its lifetime. Looking down, he sees that he’s lying on a bare, worn out mattress with his own jacket draped over him like a blanket. He racks his mildly concussed brain, trying to recollect what had happened—it takes him a minute, but one by one, the memories start flooding back to him. Joel had been leading mid morning patrol with Tommy when they had been ambushed by a large group of hostile raiders. He remembers shouting at his brother, telling him that he’d try and lead some of them off, away from the direction of their community. He’d succeeded and managed to pick off a few of the bastards that had been tailing him with his rifle, all except for one. The very last thing that he remembered was the sound of a gunshot behind him before his horse went down and he’d been thrown off and knocked out.

Everything after that was nothing but a blur.

Joel takes another look around the cabin and that’s when he sees you.

You’re on the floor, backed up against the wall near the foot of the mattress. Your eyes are wide and round, like a deer caught in the headlights. Your chest heaves, rising and falling rapidly—you remind him of a helpless, frightened animal that had been cornered by a vicious predator. You clutch the handle of a switchblade up against your chest with the blade pointing downwards, holding it so tightly in your hand that Joel can see the skin stretching tightly over your knuckles.

“Who the hell are you?” He grimaces slightly, his own voice causing his head to throb.

You don’t reply.

Joel moves onto his next question. “Where am I?”

Again, no response.

He tries again. “Are you alone?”

Silence.

Joel takes a better look at you.

You’re young. You couldn’t have been older than your late twenties, perhaps even your early thirties although that might have been a bit of a stretch. You had that look about you, one that had become all but too familiar to him in the last two decades—the exhausted appearance of someone trying to survive in the post outbreak world. Your face is tired and worn, but somehow still soft and youthful at the same time. You might have looked a little rough around the edges, but you’re still the prettiest goddamn thing he’s seen in a long, long time.

Joel speaks again. “Who are you? Where the hell are we?” When he’s met with complete silence for the fourth time, he raises an eyebrow, feeling annoyed. “You gonna fuckin’ say somethin’ or what?”

You can only stare at him, your fingers wrapped around the handle of your knife in a vice-like grip.

Joel frowns.

Are you really that fucking terrified of him?

Or perhaps you can’t hear?

Only one way to find out, he thinks to himself.

He raises his voice, asking once again, “Who are you? Where are we?”

You wince, your features twisting in discomfort.

Oh, you could fucking hear him, alright.

Joel swings his legs over the side of the mattress, his movement causing you to shrink back further against the wall, almost as if you were trying to become a part of the old, rotted wood. He holds up his two hands, demonstrating that he has no plans to move another muscle towards you. “How long have I been out?”

He tries to show some patience and gives you a minute, gives you a chance to respond, but when you say nothing, he can’t help but sigh out in frustration. Just when he’s about to force himself to come to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t be getting any kind of answers out of you, you lift your free hand and hold up three trembling fingers.

His stomach sinks. “Three days? I’ve been out for three fuckin’ days?”

You give him a nod so tiny and so subtle that he would’ve missed it had he blinked.

“Fuck,” Joel curses, hanging his head. He begins to spiral.

What happened to Tommy? And the others?

Did they make it out alive?

And then Ellie’s face flashes in his mind, causing the blood in his veins to run ice cold.

What could she possibly be thinking right now after he’d been missing for three whole days? Who was taking care of her and looking after her while he wasn’t there?

He needed to get back to Jackson—he needed to get back to Ellie.

He wasn’t sure how he would be able to do that if you didn’t start talking soon and answering his goddamn questions.

Lifting his head, Joel looks over at you again.

“You all by yourself?”

You hesitate, but then nod in reply. Yes.

Joel sighs, his tense shoulders relaxing. That’s a start. “Listen, I’m gonna need a little help here, alright? I don’t remember much ‘bout what happened. I’m part of a community. I was out on patrol with my group when we were attacked by raiders. There were too many of them and I tried to lead some of them away,” he explains. He might not have known what had happened after he’d been thrown off of his horse, but the fact that he’s in your cabin and he’s alive help him piece at least one part of the puzzle together. “Wait a minute. Did you—did you save me out there?”

Sucking in your bottom lip, you nod again.

Stunned, Joel’s eyebrows raise up towards his hairline. “You fuckin’ serious?” he can’t help but question in complete and utter disbelief. Skeptically, he presses, “But how? What happened out there? How did you get me here all by yourself?” His queries spill from his lips one after the other despite knowing most of them, if not all of them, would go unanswered.

You look overwhelmed by them—by him.

Figuring it’s best to take it one slow step at a time, Joel stands up and he cautiously walks over towards you. He holds out his hand. “S’alright,” he assures you in the most gentle voice he can muster. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

You refuse to loosen your grip on your knife, but you accept his hand and allow him to help you up to your feet. Given that you didn’t lodge the blade straight through his chest, Joel would say some progress had been made.

He releases your hand and takes a step backwards to give you your space. He isn’t too sure if you can’t talk or simply don’t want to talk—still thinking you’d been the woman he’d heard singing when he had drifted back into consciousness, he guesses it’s probably the latter.

Joel tries to think of questions he knows you’ll be able to answer without having to speak.

“How long have you been by yourself?”

Shifting anxiously from one foot to the other, you hold up one finger.

“Sorry darlin’ but that don’t really help me much,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Are we talkin’ one week? One month?”

You make a gesture with your hand. Keep going.

“One year?” He doesn’t bother hiding his blatant skepticism. “You’ve been completely alone for one whole year?”

You point at him. That’s right.

Joel is beside himself. He’s almost in awe over the fact that you’ve survived on your own for so fucking long.

“You got any other weapons besides that knife?”

You nod over towards a bow and sheath of arrows next to your backpack.

“You’re kiddin’ me. That’s all you’ve got?”

You narrow your eyes at him.

Hey, it’s a good weapon and it saved your fucking life, thank you very much.

“Sorry. Just can’t imagine that thing would do much against a clicker. ‘Specially if your aim is shit,” Joel muses. He notices the offended expression on your face and quickly moves on. “You don’t have a gun at all?”

You reach behind yourself and pull out a colt pistol from the waistband of your jeans. You finally set down your knife and then show him that you’re low on ammunition and don’t have any more. Tucking the gun back into your jeans, you step around him and walk over to a corner where his rifle is propped up against the wall. You pick it up, make your way back over to him and hand it over.

I believe this belongs to you.

“Thank you,” he utters quietly, taking it from you. “And I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout the gun, either. I honestly don’t think I’d be standin’ here alive if you hadn’t done whatever it was you did out there.” His eyes try meeting yours. “I’m serious, darlin’. I owe you one. I really fuckin’ do.”

You shrug, too timid to meet his gaze.

“I’m Joel,” he says after a minute, setting his rifle down. “What’s your name?”

You simply stare at him.

“Oh that’s right,” Joel mumbles sheepishly. “You can’t—” He stops himself, but he’s sure you know what he’d meant to say.

You can’t talk.

“You got a pencil or somethin’ to write with?”

You snort and roll your eyes at him. No, sorry. Silly me totally forgot to pick up a pack of pencils while I was out scavenging for supplies the other day.

Joel chuckles and holds up his hands in defense. “Figured it was at least worth askin’,” he says. “It’d be kinda nice to know the name of the person who saved my fuckin’ ass, you know.” He clocks the way the corners of your mouth threaten to turn upwards into a tiny smile at his remark. “How ‘bout a map? You got one of those so you can show me where we are?”

You hold up a finger, as if telling him to give you a minute. Digging into one of the front pockets of your pack, you pull out a large map of the state of Wyoming. It’s severely creased, as if you’ve folded and unfolded it hundreds of times. You hand it over to him and as he holds it out for you, you point to your current location.

“Jackson’s ‘bout fifteen miles south from here,” Joel murmurs as he scans the map. Suddenly, his dark brown eyes flicker over your wrist—the long sleeve of your thin gray shirt had hiked up, exposing severe discoloration and scarring that went all the way around, marking your skin.

Noticing where his gaze had wandered off to, you quickly retract your hand away from the map and tug your sleeve down back into place. But it’d been much too late. He had seen the mark, clear as fucking day.

Joel awkwardly clears his throat and for the sake of not causing you any discomfort, he pretends he hadn’t seen a goddamn thing. He turns his attention back to the map. “Remember how I told you I’m a part of a community? It’s in Jackson and it ain’t all too far from here,” he states, peering up at you from over the top of the map. “The town’s gated and it’s secure. You’ll be safe there. If we head out right now, we can make it there by nightfall—”

You back away from him, shaking your head.

I’m not going with you.

He cocks an eyebrow at you. “Look darlin’, I don’t mean to offend, but you ain’t gonna last a whole lot longer out here on your own, especially not in a place like this with winter right around the corner. If you don’t starve to death, then you’ll fuckin’ freeze to death.”

You glare at him and lift your chin.

I’ve been doing just fine on my own, thanks.

Having read your mind, Joel sighs. “Alright, fair enough. You’ve gotten this far by yourself, but that don’t mean you gotta turn down an offer for some help. Just come with me to Jackson—”

You shake your head even harder.

The last time that you had agreed to go back with a stranger to their camp, you’d been imprisoned. Tortured.

Joel observes you, and it doesn’t take him very long to connect the dots between the scars around your wrists and your refusal to leave with him. His hard, stony face softens. “Listen sweetheart, I ain’t all too sure ‘bout what’s happened to you,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “But I can assure you that you ain’t gotta worry ‘bout a thing this time around. Just come with me and I’ll prove it to you.”

You toss him a skeptical look.

“Jackson is a safe place,” he swears. “My brother runs it along with his wife and a small council. There’s families, lots of children—hell I’ve got a kid myself. Teenager. Her name is Ellie and she’s fifteen years old.”

Your lips part slightly and your eyes glimmer with something that looks a lot like recognition, though Joel can’t be too sure what had prompted it. Perhaps you’d known someone with that name once in your life.

“There’s plenty of food, running water, electricity,” he lists off in an attempt to sway you. “It’d be a shot at a normal life. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Crossing your arms, you lift your chin again.

You’d heard that before.

Why the hell should I even trust you? Why should I trust this place is what you say it is?

Joel bites back another frustrated sigh.

Normally, he wouldn’t bother to put up with such stubbornness. He wasn’t one to plead or beg and part of him almost wanted to give up so he could be on his way, but you had saved him from being killed. He owed you his fucking life. He had to get you to go with him. He wouldn’t give up until you agreed to go to Jackson with him.

“I’ll let you carry your weapons,” he offers as a compromise. “Hell, you can even walk behind me with your gun pointed at the back of my fuckin’ head if that’s gonna make you feel safest.”

You squint at him. Really?

“Or that bow of yours,” he adds, chuckling softly. “It’s your pick, darlin’. Whatever’s gonna make you feel comfortable. I’ll trust you not to shoot an arrow through the back of my skull—all I ask in return is that you at least make an attempt to trust me too. I think that’s a fair enough deal. Don’t you?”

You bite your bottom lip.

I don’t know about this.

“I really don’t wanna leave you out here all alone,” Joel says, taking a step closer towards you. He finds himself feeling surprised that it hadn’t startled you and he only hopes that means that, to some degree, you trust him already. “Please. You saved my life—and I know you probably don’t need me savin’ yours, but at least let me take you to Jackson so you can see for yourself what we’ve got goin’ on there. If you don’t like it and you don’t wanna stay, then we’ll load up your pack with food and supplies. We’ll put you on a horse and you can be on your way. You can choose to leave and no one will lift a finger to stop you, I’ll make sure of it. How does that sound?”

He waits, giving you a chance to think it over.

Finally, after a minute, you sigh and reluctantly nodd your head.

Okay. I’m gonna try and trust you.

“Good,” Joel says, softly. “Now get your stuff and let’s head out before we start losin’ daylight.”

#joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller angst #joel miller pedro pascal #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller imagine #the last of us fanfiction #fic: to hell and back

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mionemymind · 5 months

Text

The Chosen One

Summary: How do you love the daughter of the evilest family in the galaxy? Just ask Wanda Maximoff.

Warnings: Death, Cursing, Blood, Killing, Angst, Evil

A/n: There is a lot of random fandoms in this one shot that inspired me. Let me list them off: Star Wars, Dune, Skyrim, A Court of Thorns and Roses, Fourth Wing. So if these are one of your fandoms, comment what you think I got from them. Also, please do not judge if lore ain't right. This is my version of stuff and god I'm struggling to remember all of it lmaooooo. Also, thank you @usersukuna for the amazing gif. And thank @hiiraya for reading the rough draft of this. Also, I wanted to get your opinion on it before I posted, but that was gonna take long lmaoooo. So if you see any plot holes bestie, let me know and I'll edit it in later. Also, I had intentions of make this more evil but I don't like the idea of Stockholm Syndrome so yeah.

Word Count: 13.3k

Masterlist

Loving the person that the galaxy was sworn to hate was not an easy task for Wanda Maximoff. She had come from a world that was known for its politics, her parents both being senators. Growing up in that scene allowed Wanda to see just how evil people can be when they seek power so recklessly.

“I’ll never be like them,” Wanda vowed. She was as little as 10 when she first witnessed multiple assassins kill a mad hungry senator. “Those that are corrupt will only lead to a painful end,” Wanda’s father stated. He didn’t intervene or call for any help. Witnessing her father stand by at such a scene made Wanda question, “Was this a good thing or did my father help with his murder?” She was too scared to ask loudly. That was the moment she knew that fear was a powerful thing to have.

<|>

Wanda was only 15 when her home planet was captured by the Aetos family. In just one night, she witnessed the destruction of the very thing she called home. She was separated from her family as they packed hundreds of young girls and boys in a spaceship.

Crying her heart out, Wanda feared where they would take her. Soon they arrived at one of the many planets the Aetos family owned, Acrux. Shoving them in a line, Wanda saw many buildings of Greek inspiration. Not only that, she saw the many people who were enslaved there, all of them being no older than 18 years old.

She was sorted to work at the Colosseum, one of the unluckiest things to do in Acrux. Every day she was tasked to fight a person, creature, etc. just to live another day. It was a brutal life but if she did survive, it would guarantee she would be able to leave at age 18.

Two weeks after she arrived, she met Y/n. The kids were fighting for food when Y/n whispered to Wanda, “I know where they keep the food.” By then, she was starving to death and any ounce of awareness was gone at the mere offer of food.

Y/n was talented and light on her feet, something Wanda quickly noticed. As they snuck around the darkly lit corridors, Y/n finally found the food pantry. “You go first, I’ll make sure to stay on the lookout. Try to eat the farthest batch from the front, that way they don’t notice that it’s gone.”

Wanda didn’t question how Y/n knew this and simply followed her instructions. The pantry wasn’t massive but large enough that missing food would be hard to notice. Wanda first ate a few berries before heading to the bread. Just like Y/n said, Wanda focused on the stack near the back.

While the bread was slightly cold, Wanda could tell it had been slightly fresh. One piece of it and she was already in heaven. Not able to contain herself, Wanda tried her best to eat as much as she could. It was selfish but she couldn’t help herself.

Half a minute had gone by before Y/n opened the door and said, “Guards are coming.” Wanda stuffed the rest of the loaf in her pants pocket and followed Y/n out. They hid in a small opening in the hallway, dark enough that the guards hadn’t noticed them as they walked by.

Wanda hadn’t realized how small the opening was until they were in it, chests almost touching each other. Looking closely at Y/n, Wanda never realized how close in height they were. She had dark hair and a small scar across her right eye.

“I think they’re gone now,” Y/n coughed out. Wanda broke the stare she didn’t know she was holding. Quietly they made their way back. Wanda stopped Y/n before they entered the shared living quarters. “I appreciate you looking out for me back there. You didn’t have to - and if I’m being entirely honest, I don’t know why you did that.”

Y/n smiled at Wanda, not knowing how to take her compliment. “But regardless, here is a piece of bread. I saved it because I knew you didn’t get a chance to grab something. I’m sorry I couldn’t get more but I didn’t know what would get noticed or not.”

Y/n accepted the piece from Wanda and hid it in her pocket. No words were communicated as Y/n gave Wanda a small smile. They walked back into the quarters where everyone was too busy screaming and yelling to notice they were gone. That was the day Wanda started to look out for Y/n.

<|>

A couple of days later, Y/n had woken up Wanda from her sleep. “Wake up,” Y/n whispered as she shook Wanda awake. Everyone was asleep by now. Y/n took extra precautions to make sure no one was awake. She didn’t need any snitches to ruin her plan.

Wanda woke up disgruntled, “What? - What is it?”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“This late in the night?” Tomorrow was another designated battle for Wanda and she wanted to have as much energy as she could have for it.

“Yes - I’ve been thinking a lot about you.” This had gotten Wanda’s attention. She sat up in her bed, scooting over to allow Y/n to sit. “Well, spit it out.”

“You and I can make a pack. I’ve seen you fight and you can carry yourself. But you do have your weaknesses.” Feeling defensive about the latter comment, Wanda said, “And you think you’re better? You haven’t even fought - you don’t even know if you can survive a day out there.”

“I know. I know. But hear me out. I have training and experience. My first match is directly after yours. Just watch me and see. And if you decide it’s worth your time, then you and I can be partners.”

“What do partners mean to you?”

“It means I got your back and you got mine. If you have trouble, I’ll be there. Do you need something? Food, backup, or training, I’m there. Name it, you got it - just as long as you do the same for me.” Y/n looked around to make sure no one woke up to the sound of them talking.

“What happens if you or I want more partners?”

Y/n thought about it for a moment, carefully deciding what to say. “I’m only offering this deal to you and you only. If you decide to partner up with somebody else, I can’t be your partner anymore.”

“Does that mean you also won’t be partners with somebody else?”

“It will only be you Wanda - that’s if you accept.”

Wanda was perplexed at the offer. She wanted to say yes, especially since Y/n had helped her before. Not wanting to seem eager, she said, “Let me watch your fight and think about it.”

Y/n nodded in her response and got up. Before she could walk away, Wanda grabbed her hand and asked, “Why me?”

With all her truth, Y/n admitted, “‘Cause you’re the only one in here that has a chance of surviving like me.”

As Y/n walked away, Wanda felt hope for the first time on Acrux, hoping that maybe she’d actually leave this place alive.

<|>

Today was Y/n’s first fight. Wanda walked away from her match victorious once more. On the way back inside, she passed by Y/n. “Good luck,” Wanda said. In her heart, she could feel that Y/n didn’t need luck. There was this energy that she displayed as if she knew she was going to win even with her eyes closed.

“Thank you. You’re going to watch, right?” Y/n said while jogging backward. Her choice of weapons was two swords. “I will, probably from the gates though since I can’t run to the stands fast enough.”

Y/n winked and turned around, she yelled back, “Then I’ll make sure it’s something worth watching.”

<|>

Wanda and Y/n were 16 when Y/n first got hurt in the arena. A hired bystander had jumped into the ring on top of Y/n. Surprised by the attack, her opponent cut her arm. This type of corruption was something the Colosseum highly disapproved of.

Within seconds, soldiers flooded the arena and arrested the opponent and bystander. Wanda was first among their peers to aid Y/n. The pounding in her heart and the ringing in her ears almost made her blackout with how worried and angry she was. If the soldiers hadn’t been there, Wanda was certain to have murdered them then and there.

“Are you okay?” Wanda checked everywhere to see if there was more damage that she didn’t see. She didn’t calm down until Y/n held her hand and said, “It’s just a cut on my arm Wands. I’m going to be fine.”

Wanda helped her up and walked with Y/n through the Colosseum back to their shared room. She immediately went to their first aid kit hidden in a compartment behind their pantry and grabbed all the necessary bandages and sterilization.

Y/n sat at her bed staring at the cut that was slowly losing blood. “I don’t think it’s deep, thankfully. God that fucker just had to hire somebody.” Wanda grabbed a chair nearby and sat near Y/n’s arm. This was the first time Y/n had needed any type of bandage in their time at the arena. She didn’t want to show it, but it was scary.

Back then, Wanda was the one to have gotten all the bruises and cuts before Y/n properly trained her. Nowadays, the two hardly have to use the first aid kit at all.

As Wanda continued to stitch, Y/n noticed Wanda’s shaky hands. “Do you need me to get someone else? It’s okay if you can’t do it, Wanda.”

“No!” Wanda hadn’t meant to yell but something about this was different. Afraid to say anything more, Y/n remained quiet as Wanda continued to stitch. Once it was done and Y/n was bandaged, Wanda was finally able to breathe again. The ringing in her ears finally stopped. She could feel her senses coming back to her. “Thank you,” Y/n said.

“You’re welcome.” Wanda placed the first aid back into its hiding spot and got ready for bed.

Night came and Y/n was quick to sleep while Wanda was wide awake. She laid on her side, paying attention to Y/n’s breathing. Logically she knew that it was just a cut and that nothing bad was going to happen to Y/n. But her heart just couldn’t stop worrying.

It was then and there that Wanda knew that if Y/n died so would she.

<|>

A batch of new kids arrived at Acrux. It was a mix of older kids at a range of 15-17. Wanda never had enemies this whole time she had been in the arena, which was only a year and seven months. That was until Emma had arrived.

She was the same age as Wanda and Y/n. Nothing was special with her until she showed just how good she was at fighting. During her first match, she had beaten Y/n’s record of defeating an opponent in under a minute by a second.

Emma came out of the arena without a single bruise or scratch. Wanda noticed this but she also noticed that Y/n did too. Wanda was never the type to worry about her place with Y/n, after all, they were partners. But it was the way she noticed Y/n watching Emma that something inside her triggered.

For now, Wanda let the anger and worry remain inside her. “This will pass,” she thought. But it didn’t.

Y/n and Wanda were sparing like normal when Y/n brought up the news. “Emma asked me to train her.” The confession caused Wanda to be distracted, allowing Y/n to disarm her with one swoop.

“What did you tell her?” Wanda asked, ignoring that she was easily defeated in that small moment of distraction.

“That I only train with you.” Wanda released the breath she was holding. She picked up her sword and continued practice like normal.

Wanda was on the way to dinner when she noticed Emma talking to Y/n again. The visceral rage that grew inside Wanda within a second could have destroyed everyone in her path. But she remained composed and hid nearby.

It wasn’t that Wanda didn’t trust Y/n. She simply didn’t trust Emma.

“I don’t understand why you only train with Wanda,” Emma huffed out. She knew that she and Y/n would work well together seeing as they’re part of the rare bunch that actually know how to fight on their own.

“It’s not something you have to understand. I only train with Wanda. No amount of bargaining will change that.” Emma rolled her eyes at Y/n’s stubbornness.

“Are you two dating or something?” Wanda’s heart dropped at the question. No one had ever asked her if she was dating Y/n. But that was something she never knew to be thankful for. Her face felt hot and her chest beat like crazy at the mere thought of someone asking her that.

Wanda would never outright admit that maybe there were some lingering thoughts here and there about Y//n. But this was Acrux and all she could focus on was leaving this planet at age 18 hoping she could find her parents and twin brother.

But here she was, waiting anxiously for Y/n’s response. As if there was some secret she unfortunately wasn’t aware of. Maybe they were dating and she never knew till now. They were partners but does that mean more?

“No…we’re not,” Y/n answered with some hesitancy. Wanda felt her heart plummet. She hadn’t meant to cry, but tears started falling. “Why am I crying? I already knew we weren’t dating,” she thought.

There was no point in asking questions. Not when her heart knew…Wanda had fallen for Y/n.

<|>

Wanda was 17 when she confessed her feelings to Y/n. Emma had been on Acrux for only five months and in those five months, she had constantly made moves on Y/n. Each time, Y/n had denied her offers.

The more Emma pressed for clearer answers, the more Y/n walked away. And while Y/n would never admit it, Emma suspected that Y/n had feelings for Wanda.

It was midnight. Wanda was asleep when she was woken up again by Y/n. Turning over, she slowly opened her eyes to a candle and a small cake. “Happy Birthday Wands,” Y/n whispered. “Make a wish.”

She sat up and held the plate holding the cake. She thought about her wish for a second before blowing out her candle. “What did you wish for?”

For months, Wanda had been wanting to confess to Y/n. There were multiple times during training, lunch, or even while they hung out that she had wanted to confess. None of them felt like the right time. There was never a right time according to Wanda.

But it was the way that Y/n had looked at Wanda the whole time as if she was the only girl in the world. Maybe it was her imagination but God Wanda wanted to believe it so badly. And who was she to deny this anymore?

Unable to hold back the urge, Wanda placed the plate down on her bed as she sat up to grab Y/n by the neck and kissed her. When Y/n did not kiss back immediately, Wanda broke it, afraid that she had messed up the most important thing to her. “I’m so sor-”

Y/n didn’t wait for Wanda to finish as she cupped her cheeks and kissed her back. There was nothing to deny anymore. Not when her knees felt like they could buckle at any moment. Not when the feeling in her chest grew with enticement.

The desperation in each kiss grew as Y/n sat on Wanda’s bed leading to Wanda to crawl on Y/n’s lap. It felt passionate at first but quickly grew messy after each kiss. Hardly coming up for air, Wanda grabbed the hair near Y/n’s neck and made a fist of it, unintentionally causing Y/n to moan.

Feeling Y/n’s hands wrapped around her ass, Wanda moaned as well. She needed this girl more than anyone else in the world. And so be it if Wanda needed air, she needed Y/n more. Y/n broke their kiss, her eyes dilated with lust. While slightly heaving, Y/n confessed, “If you want me Wanda, I’m yours. Only yours.”

“Show me then.”

<|>

Y/n turned 18 two months after Wanda’s birthday. Although Wanda was eligible to leave, she stayed, not wanting to leave her girlfriend behind.

They were packing their things up, only carrying the basic necessities before completely leaving the Colosseum. They headed to the landing docks, waiting for the next transportation to arrive when a black spaceship, decked out with the Aetos family logo, arrived.

“Wanda let's go,” Y/n said as she tugged on Wanda’s hand. “That’s not our ride, dekta.”

“Do you trust me?” Confused by the question, Wanda answered with, “Of course.”

“Then let's go.” Not wanting to argue anymore, Wanda followed Y/n onto the ship. As soon as they went in, the doors closed, immediately lifting off. A droid entered the main area and stated, “Welcome back Master Y/n. Let me grab your things.” Y/n reached out with their things in her hand. As the droid grabbed their items, Wanda was perplexed at how the droid knew Y/n. “Master? Why did he call you master?”

There was a worried look on Y/n’s face. The burden she had been carrying for three years was finally going to be free. “I need you to sit down Wanda.”

“I’m not gonna sit down until you tell me the truth. Why did that droid call you master?” Wanda anxiously waited for Y/n’s response. Nothing was making sense and every single second without the truth only agitated Wanda even more.

Y/n sighed. There was no way to hide from this. Wanda deserved to know the truth.

“It’s because he’s my droid. My family gave him to me as a gift for my 5th birthday.”

“Stop fucking around Y/n. There’s more to this story. Why are we on this ship?!” Wanda crossed her arms, unhappy with the secrets.

“Before I tell you, I need you to know that I was only able to tell you once I turned 18. Had I told you before then, it would have cost me my life.” There was no response from Wanda, causing Y/n to stress even more. She sat down and continued, “My name is Y/n Aetos. I’m the eldest daughter of the Aetos family.”

Wanda’s face dropped. “You’re lying. Please tell me you’re lying.” Tears came down Y/n’s face as she shook her head no.

“This whole time you’ve been lying to me! I told you everything! I gave you every single part of me that was vulnerable just for you to be lying this whole time about who you are!”

“Hear me-”

“I don’t want to hear it. Get me off this ship now!” Y/n got up and walked to Wanda. But for every step, Wanda stepped back. It was obvious that Y/n was hurt by the reaction.

“Bab-”

“Don’t you dare call me that,” Wanda snarled. The love of her life had not only betrayed her but was the very reason she was in Acrux in the first place. “If you don’t get me off this ship right now, I will crash it into the nearest planet.”

There was no point in calling out her bluff. Y/n knew that even if Wanda had tried, she would be unsuccessful. But that was not a route she was willing to take. Not when it came to her.

“I will give you everything you want - you want off of this ship? Fine. But please let me explain myself.” Before Wanda could disagree, Y/n continued, “I was only 15 when my parents said I had to go to a planet of their choosing and survive until I was 18. It was a long-standing part of our family tradition. Those that survive lead well and those that fail never get to see another day again.” Wanda saw the pained expressions on Y/n’s face as she relieved through the harsh memories.

“A chip was planted inside my neck on my 15th birthday that forbade me to ever say what my bloodline was. I could only go by my years of training and knowledge. Had I told you, the chip inside me would have blown up within an instant.”

“No one in this galaxy besides my masters and servants knows what I looked like. For the very reason that if I don’t survive until I’m 18, they simply would not want their precious kingdom to know that I was a failure.”

There was silence as Y/n pleaded for Wanda to look at her. When she didn’t, Y/n continued to silently cry. This was the day she got back her freedom but at what cost?

Finally, Wanda spoke up, “Why did you have to rope me into this? I was fine by myself. Was it all a trick to you?”

Shaking her head no, Y/n confessed, “I knew strategically that if I had someone to rely on then my odds of surviving would increase. In the beginning, you were someone I only looked at as a companion, an ally.”

“It wasn’t until the day you almost died that everything had changed for me.”

Wanda remembered that day clearly. A bull had managed to stab her straight in the stomach after failing to dodge the attack. Causing her to bleed out in the arena. Thankfully it was a 2v2 match and Y/n was her partner.

“I had never killed something as fast as that day. When I saw you bleeding, I- I-,” Y/n cupped her mouth to suppress a sob. That was one of the worst days of her life. “I used all my winnings and favors that day to save you. And I didn’t even know then if you were going to survive.”

Wanda was surprised at the tears falling down her eyes. She didn’t know when it started but it didn’t stop.

“So when you did, I vowed that I was going to get you out…even if it had cost me my life.” Y/n wiped the tears from her face. Wanda had finally decided to look at Y/n and was heartbroken at the sight.

“So when you kissed me on your 17th birthday, I knew you were the one for me. It was selfish of me to have you to myself but you are my reason to live Wanda.” Y/n took one more step to Wanda. And when she didn’t back up, she walked even closer.

“I did not mean to have fallen in love with you. And I certainly did not mean for you to have fallen in love with me.” Y/n cupped Wanda's cheeks and wiped her tears away. “And I’m sorry it was me that you’ve fallen for because you deserve better Wanda.”

“Did you even want to tell me?”

“More than you will ever know.”

“What does this mean for us?” Y/n hardly felt scared in life. It was the way she grew up that if you were to be scared, you would be just like the weak. But today, Y/n felt scared not knowing what the future had for her and Wanda.

“I will not force you to stay. But if you choose to go…just know my heart will always belong to you.”

<|>

Two weeks have gone by since Wanda chose to leave Y/n. It was not an easy decision to make. Even her dreams constantly haunt her, reminding her of the heartbroken face Y/n had when she left. But Wanda could not stay knowing what the Aetos family had done to the galaxy.

True to her promise, Y/n did not force Wanda to stay. Instead, she used her family’s database to try and find the last rumored location of the Maximoff family.

“It appears your brother has been in hiding according to these latest reports. He’s currently in the Andromeda fighting against the Blackbar army takeover.” Y/n wiped away her last tears as she moved from the holographic map to a storage unit on the other side of the room. She grabbed a backpack full of equipment, extra water, and a weapon that was in Wanda’s skillhouse.

Y/n walked back to Wanda and gave her all the items. She tried her best to appear strong for what Wanda chose. “Here are all the items you could need. Inside the backpack is armor, food, water, and a tent. You’ll need to be careful as the armor has my family’s signet on it. Any person who will see it will automatically assume you're the enemy. The first thing you need to do is get rid of it. Take sap from the thick trees that inhabit Andromeda. It should help get rid of the logos.”

Y/n looked around the room for one last item and gave it to Wanda. “And here,” Y/n said while handing it out. “What is this?”

“A beacon. Right now, no location of it exists. But as soon as you press this red button, it’ll alert me of your location. If you ever need help, just press this button and I’ll be there for you. However, it will only be me who comes to your aid. I can’t send troops without my parents knowing about my actions. For now, I think it’s best if we avoid that.”

“Master Y/n, we’ve landed in Andromeda.” Y/n nodded and looked at the back doors opening revealing the jungle. The hot atmosphere quickly invaded the inside of the plane. There was no clearing in sight as tall trees surrounded them.

Y/n walked Wanda to the edge of the plane before stopping. “I hope you find your family Wanda.”

Wanda didn’t know what to say. Instead, she gave Y/n a strong hug before walking away. At the last minute, Wanda turned around to see the door closing. She glanced at Y/n’s face to see a tear fall.

“I hope to never see you again Wanda Maximoff,” Y/n thought, “You were the best part of my life.”

In an instant, the ship was gone and Wanda was alone again.

<|>

Wanda was alone in the woods when Pietro had found her. She was preparing for the night as she took off her armor. No logos appeared on it. Wanda had followed Y/n’s advice by immediately removing any signet bearing the Aetos family logo.

Preparing her tent, she was ambushed by a team. In seconds, soldiers came out from their hiding spots, pointing their guns directly at her. “It was calculated,” Wanda thought as there was no chance for her to attack back. They had been watching for a while now and she barely felt it. Wanda felt stupid but could hardly blame herself. She was exhausted and hungry.

Wanda heard the leaves behind her ruffle as their Captain spoke, “Who are you?” Wanda waited for them to circle in front of her. She didn’t need to startle any of the team fearing that they might shoot at any sudden movements.

“My name is Wanda Ma-,” before she could finish her sentence she came eye to eye with someone who looked very familiar. “Pietro?!”

Pietro was stunned at the girl that knew his name. He got on high alert. He aimed his blue saber at her and almost demanded more information but the terrified look on Wanda’s face stopped him in his tracks. “Wanda?”

Pietro retracted his saber and hugged his twin sister. “You’re here…you’re finally here.” Wanda hugged back, almost afraid to believe that he was right there.

“We need to get you back to safety,” Pietro stated as he rounded up his men. “There are so many things I need to tell you but right now let's pack up your stuff and get back to my base. Night in Andromeda is not safe.”

<|>

Pietro led Wanda back to a village in the trees. Many huts were placed high above the ground and all were connected by wooden bridges that allowed for easier travel. “This is my home,” Pietro said as they walked through the door. “I’ll let you freshen up in the bathroom. In the meantime, I’ll prepare us dinner.”

Wanda walked into the bathroom and noticed all the dirt and sap that covered her face and armor. She quickly undressed herself and practically moaned at the feeling of hot water. After she finished washing herself, Wanda got dressed in some fresh clothes that Pietro laid out.

“Dinners ready!” Pietro yelled from the kitchen. Wanda walked out of the bathroom and placed her armor near the front of the house, not wanting to get Pietro’s place dirty. Once she got near the kitchen, she could smell the richness of the meal, instantly making her stomach grumble with delight. “Dig in.”

Wanda sat across Pietro and served herself a portion of the meal. They both ate in silence as Wanda devoured the food in front of her. It was hard to survive in Andromeda when she knew little of what could kill her or not.

“Do you like it?” Wanda nodded in agreement as she stuffed herself. “That’s good to hear. I’ve been working on my cooking skills whenever I have free time.”

Wanda ate a couple more bites before asking, “Are you a captain of sorts? It seemed like those soldiers responded to your commands.”

“I am. Although there’s not much official order around here, I have managed to get respected enough to be followed as a captain.” Pietro collected their dishes and placed them in the sink.

“Let’s talk more in the living room.” As Wanda and Pietro sat on the couch, Wanda was quick to ask, “Do you have any clue on where our parents are?” With a solemn smile, Pietro said, “Our parents are..away.”

“What do you mean?” Pietro sighed as he readjusted his position, “Let me start from the beginning.”

Pietro cleared his throat, “During the invasion, the Aetos family had packed all the younglings on a ship. We were supposed to be sent to Acrux but my ship had crash-landed in Andromeda. Thankfully, there was a village nearby that helped all of us out and took us in.”

“For weeks, I tried my best to find a way to get back home. It wasn’t until I got access to our family’s money that someone listened to me.”

“They provided me with transportation back but once I arrived, it was like a different place Wanda. Within those weeks, the empire of Barlowe had taken over everything. It was like a planet that housed thousands of soldiers for miles.”

“I tried my best to get intel on what happened. Fortunately enough, the few native people left told me everything.” Pietro reached out and grabbed Wanda’s hand. “An invasion from the Barlowe empire happened. They disguised themselves as the Aetos family to manipulate the rest of the galaxy into thinking that they were taking over.”

“They relocated all the children to many different places. As for the adults, those that weren’t captured fled and those that were captured had to work for the empire.”

“I tried sneaking into one of their bases to find more intel on our parents but all I could find was that they weren’t captured and were in hiding. The next thing I did was look for you in the system but nothing about you popped up. I wanted to find out more but I didn’t know how. So I flew back to Andromeda and have been living here with the other kids from Fornia.”

Wanda sat there and tried her best to take all of it in. “Do you think they’re still alive?” Pietro sighed once more as there were countless times he thought of finding them. “I wish they were but it’s been three years and none of the other kids have a clue on where their parents are at. We kind of stopped holding on to hope of seeing our parents again when the Blackbar army started their invasion on Andromeda a couple of months ago.”

“What’s stopping you from fleeing?” Wanda was desperate to cling on to Pietro. The fact that he was still alive gave Wanda some hope that her parents were also alive.

Pietro looked away as he glanced at the window showcasing the village. “In the three years I’ve been here, I’ve managed to find myself people that I trust and care about. In turn, they look to me to help defend Andromeda from this takeover. I know I could still flee using our family’s money, but where would I go? Invasions are happening all around the galaxy.” Pietro was momentarily lost in his thoughts as he remembered all the times he desperately wished his family would rescue him.

“Not only that, there’s this girl that I’ve grown feelings for. She’s been with me since we crashed here. And I don’t have the heart to leave her.” Although Wanda wanted to feel disappointed in Pietro’s decision to stop looking for their parents, she too knew the feeling of not being able to leave without Y/n. She reminisced for a few moments before focusing back on the conversation.

“There is more that I need to tell you but could you tell me what it’s been like for you?”

With a heavy heart, Wanda sighed, “Where do I even start?”

<|>

“How did we even get to this point?” Wanda questioned as she fought her best to stay conscious. Dry blood ran down her face, her hands were tied behind her back, and a gag was placed in her mouth. Pietro was passed out in the cell across from her, tied up in the same manner.

The twins were barely united for two weeks before Blackbar’s army sent reinforcements to further the invasion of Andromeda. Pietro was stuck in the front lines along with Wanda who refused to leave his side. The village barely was able to make a dent in the enemy’s forces before being captured.

That was three days ago and now the majority of the village was stuck in a cell each being tortured for information. “Get up,” the guard demanded as they opened Wanda’s cell. She proceeded to scream and kick the best she could, causing Pietro to wake up.

“Let go of her!” He screamed into his gag. “Get the boy as well.” The guard had enough of Wanda’s theatrics and punched her in the face causing her to pass out from all the pain. They dragged the twins to the control area where the leader of the operations was, dropping them in the middle of the room. “Are you idiots? I need them awake.”

“Yes, sir.” Grabbing the syringe, the guards injected Wanda and Pietro with a serum that would help them stay awake. “Remove their gags.”

Stirring awake, Wanda groaned in pain. Nothing in Acrux had compared to this aching feeling throughout her body. If she had the energy, she would have screamed from how much pain she was feeling. “Wanda Maximoff, just the girl we need. According to our intel, you were on Acrux around the same time a certain Aetos was inhabiting the planet.”

Wanda was barely conscious as she saw General Tullius grab a knife and hold it to Pietro’s neck. “Tell me what you know or your brother is going to die.” Wanda’s eyes widened, “Please don’t!” She thrashed in her bindings as tears fell from her eyes. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know but please let him go.”

“Wanda don’t-”

“Silence! If you want to live, I suggest you cooperate.” Pietro froze as the knife was pressed deeper into his throat.

“General Tullius,” a different soldier entered the room with Wanda’s backpack in hand. “Here are the girl’s items.” General Tullius grabbed the bag and looked through it. The only thing that caught his eye was the small remote.

He dropped the bag and observed it. “Tell me Ms. Maximoff, what does this do?” Wanda held her breath at the very thing that could save them. “Don’t press it,” she begged. He didn’t listen and pressed it anyway. He looked around and felt nothing happen. “It’s useless anyways - come with me now, you have information to share.”

“As for you,” General Tullius sliced Pietro’s throat as Wanda Maximoff screamed in horror, witnessing her only sibling die in front of her.

<|>

Hours have gone by and Wanda has not given any information to the General. All she could focus on was the blood on the floor where Pietro’s dead body was once.

“If you can’t provide me with the information, I will find someone who can,” General Tullius spat at Wanda. There was a different type of evil in his eyes. Only hot anger lay behind them. Which meant one thing, General Tullius was sent here to prove something, something his superior doubted. And any loss meant more than likely his life.

Tired and barely clinging on to her life, Wanda prayed and pleaded with all her might that Y/n would come soon. But as minutes went by, her hope waned. Y/n could be anywhere in the galaxy, probably back with her family, which could be light-years away. How could Wanda believe that she’d drop everything to come? “God, please…please send me help.”

“Sir, an unmarked ship is heading directly for us. How would you like to respond?”

“Take it down!” General Tullius could not bother with the inconveniences as he headed back to Wanda. Before he could hurt her again, explosions rattled the building followed by the blaring alarm system.

“What the?” More artillery exploded. A shiver ran down General Tullius. He could feel the raw power that landed in his fortress. The force inside him could feel that this was only one person but someone not to mess with.

“Turn on the cameras! They’re inside the building.” Wanda paid attention to all the chaos. She could see the panic run through General Tullius. This was someone above his skill level, someone powerful.

The camera feed played for everyone in the headquarters to see. A dark figure with all-black armor walked through the hallways. No effort was exerted as this figure force choked the troops in her way. The raw power caused the camera feed to go black as the lights flickered out.

“What’s happening?! Give me a different angle now!” The officer did as told and tried their best to provide a different camera angle. In a different room, a new wave of troopers prepared for the enemy. Everyone could easily hear the terrifying screams coming from the other side of the door.

“Hold,” the commander stated. The building shook as the door crunched slowly. Soon it was pulled off its hinges. No one could see what was happening.

A bloody body came crawling out of the shadows, “Please…kill…me.” A trooper tried to reach out but the body was merely dragged out of sight. Soon, the rumble of a lightsaber was heard. The red color illuminated the shadow of the figure. “Fire!”

Red lasers fired their way. None touched the figure. One was purposely deflected to hit the camera inside. The feed went to black and General Tullius knew what he was facing.

Wanda almost smiled in delight at the scared look on General Tullius’s face. “It’s Y/n,” she thought. The General gathered all officers and troopers to aim at the door. “We need to be on lockdown! Now!”

“That would never be enough,” Wanda thought. But the injuries were adding up, she could feel herself needing to sleep. Soon, she saw the door fly off its hinges, crushing the majority of those who guarded it. The smoke and alarms were too much to process. Wanda fainted from the pain. The last thing she saw was the color red.

<|>

Not much time had passed before Wanda woke up. Everyone in the room was already dead besides General Tullius. The saber in his stomach was hard to miss.

“My family’s name is carried through the innocents we kill, the horrors children sing, and the people we control,” Y/n’s helmet unveiled to show her face. The glow of her lightsaber made her eyes appear red with madness. Inch by inch, she pushed her saber further and further, wanting the burning sensation to feel like an eternity.

“Your death will be meaningless compared to the thousands of generals we’ve killed.” General Tullius felt his blood start to boil, the heat coming from the lightsaber was burning him inside out. “Your men will forever remember the day I single-handedly slaughtered them to the masses.” His blood started to spill out of his eyes, mouth, and nose. No words could escape as he continued to scream in horror.

“And you will never know a day of peace as I will chase you in hell for all the crimes you’ve committed against her.” Y/n flicked her arm, slicing the general in half. The smell of his flesh burning was almost too much for Wanda to handle as she looked away. She could hear the body drop to the ground as the room soon became quiet.

Y/n surveyed the room of her damages. Many troops lay dead all because of one call. But this was who Y/n was. The daughter of the most evil family in the world. And Wanda so happens to be the person she loved.

Y/n retreated her lightsaber back to its hilt and clipped it onto her belt. She removed her helmet and slowly walked towards Wanda. Bruises were covering Wanda’s body as well as some dried blood coming from her forehead. The sight made Y/n choke in anger but she remained composed.

“Wanda?” Y/n called out, hoping to not scare her off. This was a side that Wanda had never seen before. The killings in the Colosseum were mandatory. It was always the opponent you were against but this. This was different. Y/n killed mercilessly without hesitation. No one could even beg to live another day before she killed them off. This was the part of Y/n that held the Aetos family name. This was the evil that surrounded and consumed Y/n.

There were a couple of feet between them when Wanda spoke up and said, “You killed them all.” Wanda looked around, unable to cope with how much death surrounded her in just one instance. “I know my love.” Y/n didn’t move any closer, allowing Wanda to process. “I’m sorry I took so long…are you okay?”

When Wanda looked into Y/n’s eyes, she no longer saw the person she had just seconds ago. Here was the Y/n she fell in love with. The one that made sure she was okay at the end of the day. The one that would give up her food to make sure she ate. The one that would kiss away all the pain from being on Acrux. The one that just knew her.

Wanda ran back into Y/n’s arm where everything clicked. She felt safe, wanted, and loved in her arms. Nothing would ever harm her here. Tears ran down Wanda’s face, exhaustion creeping up on her. “Everything is going to be okay my love, I promise.” Y/n continued to murmur soft affirmations, hoping it would calm Wanda down.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me right now, but let’s get you somewhere safe.” Wanda nodded in agreement as Y/n wiped her tears away. Hand in hand, they walked out of the base without any interruptions.

<|>

There was a small fire near the ship that Y/ n prepared. Using the force, she gathered two decent-sized logs to use as makeshift chairs. Heading back outside, Y/n held a pot filled with her meat soup recipe. She hooked it over the fire and stirred. Feeling satisfied with it, she sat next to Wanda who was finally bandaged up.

“You look different,” Wanda commented. “Is that a good or bad thing?” Wanda took a decent look at Y/n. She still had the scar on her eye but her face looked more sharp and her skin was more tan. There was this slight glow surrounding her.

“I would say good.” Y/n hummed in satisfaction. Hearing the soup boil, she prepared two bowls. “Here you go, Wanda. Be careful, it’s hot.” Wanda held the warm bowl and started to blow air towards it. Wanda grabbed the extra spoon from Y/n’s hand. The smell coming from the bowl was to die for. Not only that, Wanda was desperate for a warm home-cooked meal. Wanda didn’t wait for the soup to simmer to start eating. Together they ate in silence like old times.

When they were done, Y/n gathered the dishes and headed back inside the ship. She placed them inside the washer and walked back outside. It was nighttime now and Andromeda had the clearest view of the sky. “Have you taken a look at the sky?”

“It was one of the first things I noticed after we parted ways. Even though it’s been six months, I’ve always been blown away. It almost feels like I can reach all the stars in the sky.” Wanda held her hand out as she examined the sky, imagining what it would feel like to have it in the palm of her hand.

Y/n laid down beside Wanda. They each had their own sleeping bag. “The stars looked different here compared to my home planet.”

“What is it like?”

“Well, my planet is mainly full of cloudy skies. I don’t go outside often enough since my home is underwater.” Wanda turned on her side to face Y/n. She was surprised at the new information since they never got to speak about Y/n's true life.

“Why is your home underwater? Do you not have land to build on?” Y/n shook her head in disagreement. “We do have land but mainly use it for decoy purposes. Our true city lies at the bottom of the ocean. While we don’t quite have stars in the sky, the surrounding coral and fish are a different site to see.”

“Did you miss your family?” Wanda didn’t know where the courage to ask these questions came from. Mainly, she had wanted to distract herself from the events before.

“I did. When they saw my course for home, they called me to tell me they were proud of me.” Y/n thought for a moment before admitting, “I did miss you more though.” Y/n looked at Wanda. Not knowing what to say, Wanda gave her a small smile.

“I know I said I’ll give you time, but I need to know what you want to do after this.”

“I don’t have a clue right now.” It scared Wanda to know she had no plan. For the past three years, all she could focus on was coming back home to her family. It was foolish to believe that everything was going to be fine after three years, that they could go back to the way it was. But sadly, she couldn’t.

“Do you want to come home with me?”

“I-,” Wanda cut herself off after remembering all the tall tales of the Aetos family. “I know my family’s reputation scares you but I promise you there is nothing to be afraid of. I’ll be there to protect you. Not only that, I have a separate condo in the city. You can stay there as long as you like until you figure out what your plan is.”

Wanda was silent for a moment. Too much change was happening in such a short amount of time. It was almost too much for Wanda to handle. But as she looked at Y/n’s pleading eyes, she couldn’t help but say, “You better protect me.”

“I cross my heart.”

<|>

“We’re on course to my home planet Vernak,” Y/n shouted from the cockpit. She flicked a couple more switches before setting the ship on autopilot. Y/n walked back to the main area of the small ship to find Wanda in deep thought.

“I can set it for a longer route if you need more time to think.” Wanda broke out of her thoughts and smiled at Y/n. “It’s okay,” Wanda sighed, “As long as you’re protecting me, then anything is better than being captive again.”

Y/n knelt in front of Wanda and slowly intertwined their hands. “Don’t be afraid to talk to me. I know that it’s been a lot of change since we left Acrux but I’m still the Y/n you know, the one that will never let anyone hurt you again.”

Wanda wanted to believe Y/’s words. There was still a large part of Y/n that she never knew about and that terrified her. “How do I know that I won’t get hurt on Vernak?”

“I’ll die before I let anyone hurt you, Wanda,” Y/n said with all seriousness. “I know you’ve seen me fight back in Acrux. That part of me only had access to my knowledge and not my powers.”

Wanda’s eyebrows furrowed. “You have powers?” Y/n chuckled. “Wrong choice of words but I am force sensitive. I’m a Jedi.”

“That explains why you have that lightsaber,” Wanda pointed to the lightsaber that was clipped to Y/n’s belt. “Yeah, it’s my preferred choice of weapon but I wasn’t allowed to have it when I was on Acrux.”

The cockpit’s alarm signaled that they were close to Vernak. “We’ll have to strap in now for landing, but I do have to ask you a favor.”

“What is it?” Y/n let go of Wanda’s hands and grabbed the blindfold from her pocket. She placed the item into Wanda’s hands. “I need you to trust me and put this on. I’m not binding you or anything, but when we enter Vernak, I need you to be blindfolded for it.”

“Can I ask why?” Y/n gave a small smile, “I’ll explain more when we land. No more secrets, I promise.” Wanda felt reluctant to follow Y/n’s rules but as they sat back in the cockpit and buckled in, she did as told and blindfolded herself. “No more secrets,” she thought to herself.

<|>

The ship floated above Y/n’s condo, allowing the two to be teleported into her home. The sensation made Wanda’s stomach queasy as she straightened her posture again. “We’ve arrived. You can take your blindfold off now.”

Y/n walked away to the kitchen, hungry from the journey. “You must be hungry so I’ll cook us something. Is there anything in particular you want to eat?”

Wanda removed the blindfold and was stunned by her surroundings. She didn’t know what to expect when it came to her ex-girlfriend’s condo, but it surely wasn’t this.

There was slick black furniture with brown accents that filled the medium sized condo. Various framed photos were displayed on one wall, the biggest one being a family painted portrait of the Aetos family. A large floor to ceiling bookshelf divided the living room and kitchen. And from what Wanda could tell, many of the books involved war and culture.

What captured Wanda’s attention the most was the view of the city. Ignoring Y/n’s question, Wanda got up and walked to the window. A spectacular city lay before them. A handful of skyscrapers were spread around the land. Small buildings stood in between as well as an intricate river that wove around the city. Various foliage hung from the side of the skyscrapers as well as the natural beauty on the ground.

“What do you think?” Y/n stood by Wanda’s side, her hands behind her back. She couldn’t grasp what was going through Wanda’s head but the fascination in her eyes excited Y/n.

“I think I’m in a dream.” Wanda followed various sky trams that zoomed through the city. The technological wonders were beyond what she expected. But the view, it was drop dead gorgeous how the sun was casting on Vernak. The place looked like heaven.

Y/n smiled and looked back at Vernak. The view was something she never grew tired of. More than anything, it was what she dreamed of during her days in Acrux. There were multiple times that Y/n cried silently in her sleep thinking that she would never make it back home. But the thought of never making it back kept her alive.

“If you’re up for it, we can walk around the block after you’re done eating.” Wanda looked at Y/n, almost forgetting about Pietro. But the weight of it all crumbled.

Almost falling forward, Wanda hugged Y/n and sobbed into her neck. She couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. Everything changed and Wanda feared what was going to happen in her future. But as Y/n held her tightly while rubbing her back, whispering soft affirmations, Wanda knew she was safe.

<|>

The night came and Wanda cried herself to sleep in Y/n’s arms after confessing the tragedies that happened on Andromeda. From the torture to Pietro’s death, Wanda didn’t leave a single detail out. The amount of pain that Wanda had gone through in such a short amount of time enraged the young Aetos daughter.

All Y/n could think of was her broken promise to protect Wanda from all harm. Had she fought harder to stay with Wanda would she be in the same predicament? Had she managed a way to tell Wanda about her situation would she still be with Y/n? Had she been quicker to arrive at Andromeda would Pietro still be alive?

Regardless of the what if’s, Y/n was unable to take Wanda’s pain away. Revenge was something that would come later, that was certain. But for now, Y/n would stay at Wanda’s side, doing anything and everything to take away Wanda’s pain.

<|>

After a week of being cooped up in Y/n’s condo, Wanda decided today was the day to step out and explore. Although part of her still thought the view was a mere trick, she was learning to trust Y/n again.

Dressed up in some of Y/n’s clothes, Wanda pushed past her anxiety and walked to the front of the condo where Y/n waited. “You look good.” Something about Wanda being in her clothes made Y/n feral, but the small comment was all she uttered.

Wanda blushed and grabbed the rain coat hung up in the foyer as a distraction. “I think I have everything.”

“Great, let’s head out.” As Y/n tried to open the door, Wanda grabbed Y/n’s free hand and intertwined their hands. Y/n looked back, trying not to panic at the gesture. “Don’t let go,” Wanda whispered, feeling vulnerable under Y/n’s gaze.

Not knowing if it was crossing boundaries, Y/n kissed Wanda’s hand in the same way she did back on Acrux. “Never.”

<|>

“I don’t understand,” Wanda says as she looks around the bustling city. There easily could have been a hundred people just on this street alone. Everyone looked so at ease with life. “You’re not supposed to understand,” Y/n lightly commented.

Several people walked past them, all acknowledging Y/n. They spoke at such ease that it perplexed Wanda. “Was this the same Aetos her planet feared? Was this an act?” She thought. None of it made any sense.

Intrigued by one of the market stalls, Wanda let go of Y/n’s hand and walked towards it. The sight of fresh fruit and vegetables made her stomach grumble. “What would you like, miss?” Wanda slightly backed off and said, “I’m sorry. I don’t have any money on me.”

The worker grew confused at her response. “It’s free, ma’am.” Y/n slid to Wanda's side and grabbed two apples, a banana, and a mango . “I think this will be all for us Ethan. Are the crops still looking good in your region?”

Ethan grabbed the items and placed them into a brown paper bag.

“There are small issues with the implementation of our water system, but so far it’s been great. The new technology has been helping us be more efficient.” Y/n smiled in delight while grabbing the bag. “That’s good to hear. I’ll try to see if there’s anything I can do when it comes to the new system though. It should have been smooth sailing. But you have a good day now.”

Y/n grabbed Wanda’s hand once more and looked around the city. There was so much that Y/n had wanted to show Wanda from the art district, business district, and culture district. However, it was only Wanda’s first day out. Not wanting to add to her anxiety, Y/n led Wanda on a small walk through the heart of the city. She gave her an apple and Wanda took in all the new sights.

“I’m guessing you have questions.” Y/n grabbed the second apple and started to eat.

“You think? None of this makes sense.” Every story she’d ever heard about the Aetos family was nothing but horror. The planet was to have hosted the worst criminals in the galaxy. So why does it look like a fairytale? “Follow me. I have the perfect spot to explain everything to you.”

Y/n led Wanda to the nearest sky tram. “Hold on-,” the tram flew up from the streets, causing Wanda to stumble back a little. Quick with her reflexes, Y/n reached out and grabbed Wanda by her waist. “-they tend to be fast,” Y/n said sheepishly. Wanda held on to the same pole as Y/n.

Soon, they arrived at a floating garden. It was high above the clouds which allowed Wanda to get a good view of the sunset. “Come on. I know a private spot.” Still holding Wanda by the waist, Y/n led them to a familiar spot near the edge of the garden. There was a seat that saw the view of the city below as well as the clouds that sat right on top of it.

“Welcome to my hideout.” Y/n watched as Wanda looked around awestruck at the view surrounding them. Nearby plants looked to be taken care of yet no caretakers were in sight. “Do you take care of them?” Wanda asked as she touched one of the plants.

“I try my best. I’ve recently been learning more about herbology and gardening to expand on my skills.” Y/n hadn’t meant to boast but she desperately carved for Wanda’s approval or affirmation.

“You never told me that you wanted to try learning about plants.” Y/n shrugged. There was more she wanted to tell but was never allowed. “If you have the time, I can tell you everything you ever wanted to know about me.”

Wanda walked towards the seat and beckoned for Y/n to sit beside her. “I want to know first about the history of your planet because where are all the crimes and murderers that I used to hear about.”

“If I tell you, you must promise not to tell a soul outside this planet. If you were to spread the truth about my home planet, many people could get hurt.” The seriousness in Y/n’s voice struck Wanda’s attention.

“I promise.”

“Good. I’m holding you to that Maximoff.” Wanda smiled at the lightness that surrounded Y/n. It was all too different from the stoic nature Y/n had back in Acrux. “Probably was trying her best to stay alive,” Wanda thought.

“Vernak, as you may have thought it to be home of all murderers, rapists, and thieves was actually home to the very first runaways.” Y/n wiped a hologram into view to showcase a family photo of a father, mother, and two sons. “Dain and Elizabeth Aetos and their sons Cain and Christopher. These are my ancestors.”

“They’re a beautiful family,” Wanda admired. “Dain was a Jedi Knight while Elizabeth was a senator. In a farther part of the galaxy, these two were not allowed to love due to the rules of being a Jedi Knight.” Y/n swiped to show articles stating that Jedis were not allowed to have any relationship.

“The goal of any Jedi is to defend and protect. They’re like peacekeepers of the galaxy. If they were to get into relationships, it may lead to biases to protect that individual over another. So when Dain was caught, he fled with his wife to a different part of the galaxy.”

Y/n showed a map to showcase how far of a journey the Aetos family had to endure to get away from the Jedi counsel. “They landed in Vernak and built a home for themselves. For a while, it was just them four living on an inhabited planet.”

“One day, Dain had gotten word of another couple that was also in the same predicament as them. While he was scared to leave his family, Elizabeth understood the importance of saving this couple and encouraged him to go. It was a long journey and Dain did get injured from it but thankfully the husband had a medical background.”

“What would have happened if they were caught?” Y/n looked into Wanda’s eyes and sighed. “Back then it was a different culture, but the Jedi would have been killed for breaking this rule. As for their partner, they typically get banished.”

“Your ancestors knew the consequences of loving each other and still did?” Wanda didn’t mean to appear like she was judging but losing your life over loving someone was a big punishment to possibly face.

“I would’ve done the same to be with you.”

There was hope in Y/n’s eyes that Wanda felt the same way still, but when she hadn’t answered, Y/n cleared her throat and continued with the story. “Ever since that day, the Aetos family declared that they would help any people that needed refuge in any type of way. They grew and grew and grew. However, the boys were now in their late 20’s and pointed out that if they continued to rescue people, they would get caught.”

Y/n swiped to show an updated family photo of the Aetos family and this time, the boys were now grown men with wives in the picture. “On this eventful night in history, the Aetos family forged a plan to fabricate what Vernak was. They sent out loyal soldiers to neighboring planets to spread rumors that Vernak was an evil planet filled with the worst that mankind has ever seen.”

“It took a long time but people started to believe it. Because of this lie, generations of people taught it to their children and their children and so on. In the meantime, we still rescued many of those that needed it. Vernak was the planet for the forbidden people, the runaways. We vow to protect those in need in the name of love.”

Wanda took it all in as she watched the sunset go down and stars in the sky appear. “So this whole time, Vernak has been a thriving place full of culture and life? If you have an army, what’s the point of still lying to the galaxy?”

Y/n sighed, preparing herself for the harsh truth. “We lie to protect our citizens. Some have ancestors that were supposed to have been beheaded had we not stepped in and helped. Others have families that are still hunted to this day. If word gets out that these people are alive, who knows how many soldiers would come to try and defeat us.”

Y/n held Wanda’s hand, “We lie so that our people can live peacefully.”

<|>

Two months have passed since Wanda had first arrived in Vernak. In the short amount of time, Wanda had managed to learn more about the planet’s history, army, politics, and culture. One of the biggest differences was obviously the lack of evil that the planet hosted.

If anything, there was close to zero crime committed on the streets of Vernak. This marveled Wanda even more to learn how their legislation worked. With the help of Y/n, she attended several conferences where bills and laws were passed.

The lack of arguing or fear mongering almost made Wanda uncomfortable. The palace had too much peace. Even her home planet had its fair share of power hungry people. So to see people work together to achieve the betterment of their people was odd to see.

Right now, Wanda sat in her room, writing in her journal about the things she learned today when she heard the sound of the front door open. Closing her journal, Wanda walked out to the living room to see Y/n stripping off her royal attire.

Wanda leaned up against the wall as Y/n sighed from the long day. “How was your day?”

Y/n looked up and smiled. “Rough. I had force training and it was more strenuous than usual.” Wanda walked towards Y/n and gave her a small hug.

Things were still unclear on what the two of them were. But having Wanda around was more than enough for Y/n. As for Wanda, she liked that Y/n never pressured her to talk. For now, things were okay. Pulling back from the hug, arms still around Y/n’s neck, Wanda said, “I cooked for you today.”

Y/n held on to Wanda’s waist, a smirk on her face. “You did? You didn’t have to do that.”

Wanda poked Y/n’s chest. “Nonsense. Plus, I managed to get the right ingredients. We’re having a proper Fornia dinner tonight. So dress nicely and you need a shower, you stink.”

With a light shove from Wanda, Y/n walked to her room with a laugh. “Yes ma’am.”

<|>

After cleaning herself up, Y/n walked out her room in an all black attire. The savory aroma of the meal was the first thing Y/n noticed as she walked closer to the dim kitchen.

Once she entered, Y/n was awestruck at the sight of a candle lit dinner. “Woah,” she muttered under her breath. Before she walked any further, Wanda snuck behind Y/n and intertwined their hands.

“You like?” Y/n looked back, ready to compliment the dinner, but the sight of Wanda in an all black skin tight dress stopped her. It was like everything in the room stopped as she took it all in. Wanda’s hair was curled to perfection and her makeup made Y/n’s heart leap.

Mouth agape, Y/n took a step back, spun Wanda around. “I don’t think there’s enough words to describe how beautiful you are Wanda.”

Wanda was thankful for the dim lights as she blushed under Y/n’s gaze. “I’d say you look handsome tonight.” Y/n led Wanda to her seat and helped push her in.

“This looks so amazing Wanda. I can’t wait to eat it.” Y/n sat on the other side ready to dig in but Wanda’s longing gaze stopped her. “Are you okay Wands?”

“I want to say something and you can’t interrupt me, okay?” Y/n shook her head in understandment. Wanda shook her nerves away as she reached out once again to hold Y/n’s hand. Meeting her half, Y/n held Wanda’s hand, giving her a comforting squeeze.

“I first want to thank you for being here for me. These past two months have been such a whirlwind and having you here with me has been such a relief.” Wanda started to tear up, feeling her emotions get the best of her.

“I know you must wonder what I’ve been wanting to do or what my plan for the future is and for the first month, I honestly didn’t know what I wanted.” Wiping away a fallen tear, Wanda continued. “But living here in Vernak with you. It’s given me something to look forward to.”

Y/n smiled softly. She gave Wanda another gentle squeeze knowing the girl had more to say. “I thought that my life was over the moment I landed in Acrux. But life led me to you. And suddenly, it felt like my life finally started.”

“I know we don’t talk enough about my decision to leave you but I do want to say I’m so sorry.” The moment replayed in both of their heads and all Wanda could feel was regret. “I should’ve heard you out but instead I left.”

“Wanda, darling, I don’t blame you for leaving.” The sympathetic look on Y/n’s face broke Wanda’s heart. Here she was apologizing but entirely, there was nothing to apologize for. Y/n always understood Wanda’s decision to leave. “You chose based on information we purposely crafted for generations. There was no way you could have known the truth about Vernak.”

Wanda continued to cry at Y/n’s generosity, feeling even more guilty on her decision to leave. Hating the sight of Wanda crying, Y/n got up and squatted in front of her. She cupped her face and wiped the tears away. “I wish I never left you.”

Y/n’s heart dropped at the whispered confession. This was the first time that Wanda had remotely ever admitted anything like that. In turn, Y/n admitted, “I wish I stayed.”

Vulnerability was something Y/n was hardly taught to give. It could lead to death, abandonment, or betrayal. But every single time Y/n chose to be vulnerable, it was for Wanda and no one else.

“Do you think…” Wanda looked into Y/n’s eyes as she choked back her tears, “...if I were to ask for another chance…what would you say?”

Y/n thought about it for a moment before saying, “I’d give you a thousand chances if it meant to be with you again.”

Unable to hold herself back, Wanda leaned in for a kiss, hoping that Y/n could feel just how much she missed her. Hoping that it would be enough to apologize for all the countless lies she believed in. Hoping that she can prove to Y/n once more that she’d never leave again.

And as Y/n deepened the kiss, tasting Wanda’s tears, she prayed that the only girl she’s ever loved will understand that no matter what, she will always choose her.

<|>

Evil was something Wanda hardly associated Y/n with. After a year of living on Vernak, she could only see the good Y/n and her family have done for the people. So when Y/n came home from a rough day at the palace, Wanda’s love changed.

She sat at their shared bed when she heard the front door open and close. “I’m over here dekta!” It took Y/n a long time to get to their bedroom, a long look was on her face when she arrived.

Immediately noticing that something was wrong, Wanda closed her book and opened her arms. With no words, Y/n fell into Wanda’s arms. The feeling of being with her instantly relaxed the young Aetos.

For a while, the two laid in bed, tangled in each other's arms before Y/n spoke up. “Something happened today and I…I don’t know how to handle it.”

Wanda ran her hand through Y/n’s hair, trying her best to comfort her girlfriend. She pressed a small kiss on Y/n’s temple before saying, “You can tell me dekta. I’m all ears.”

Y/n sighed, not knowing where to even start. “There was intel that came to the palace about a bounty hunter that managed to torture information about Vernak.”

“We managed to get our hands on them but…” Y/n grimaced as she remembered. “...we had to kill them as well as the rest of the bounty hunters that they told.” Wanda could feel Y/n start to cry.

“I know death is something I’m used to but these people were different. They were hired for all the wrong reasons in order to make ends meet. Many of them had families and now they’re probably waiting for them to come home.”

Y/n slowly sat up as she wiped her own tears. Wanda followed suit and sat on Y/n’s lap. “I just- I hate the tough decisions we have to make. When things don’t feel as black and white, it makes me wonder if what we’re doing is good.”

Y/n looked into Wanda’s eyes with fear. “It makes me wonder if I’m good enough for you.”

Wanda frowned at the confession. “Don’t ever question that. There’s nothing in this world that will ever make me think that you’re not good enough for me.” Wanda gave Y/n a quick kiss, hoping to take away some of the pain her girlfriend was feeling. “Everything you do is to protect me and your people. There’s not a single day where I ever felt like you hurted people just to hurt. You and your family make the hard decisions in order for us to be safe.”

“What if I told you we were evil?” Wanda looked at Y/n confused.

“Dekta, we’ve been over this. Your family being evil is a lie.” Y/n almost felt guilty for how much Wanda cared for her. For if she were to see all the decisions being made, would she still stay?

Y/n looked away, unable to meet Wanda’s eyes. “They unveiled today the final secret…our family has a long list of people turning to the dark side in order to make sure our country is protected. Even my father has admitted to tapping into that side of the force.”

Y/n clenched her eyes, unable to forget the moment that electricity came out of her father’s hands. “The red lightsaber was one thing but having the powers of the dark side is another. I fear that if I’m not strong enough, I’ll succumb to the thoughts of the dark side.”

“...I fear to be the person you hate.”

Silence surrounded the room as Wanda stayed in deep thought. There were so many questions in her head but as Y/n slowly looked up, Wanda knew what to say.

“Fear has controlled me before and it led me away from you. So listen when I say this, do not let fear make you believe that you will be destined for evil. The dark side is powerful but so are the emotions they feel. And as long as I’m here, I will never let evil succumb to you.”

Wiping away the remainder of her tears, Wanda finished with, “You are destined to be a great leader my love. Evil may linger in your genes but your heart shows me everything I need to know. And I will love you enough for the both of us to make you see that you are good.”

Leaning in for one more kiss, Wanda would never call Y/n evil.

<|>

Wanda and Y/n were 25 the night before their wedding.

Wanda was looking out the balcony when she heard a knock at her door. It was close to midnight. “No one should be up,” she thought. The hologram displayed Y/n’s image and Wanda immediately opened the door. “What are you doing? You know it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”

Y/n chuckled at the superstition and entered anyway. “I wanted to see you. Today has been long without you.” Y/n jumped onto the bed, feeling exhausted. Wanda followed suit as she dimmed the lighting in the room.

They got under the covers and laid next to each other. Face to face, Wanda asked, “I know something’s troubling you.” Y/n still had her eyes closed when she responded with, “And how do you know that my love?”

“I have a gut feeling. Or maybe the force has connected us.” The thought was sincere. What if they were fated soulmates? “Plus, anytime I’m wide awake this late at night, you always seem to be in distress. So tell me what’s wrong dekta.”

Y/n sighed and snuggled into Wanda’s neck. Wanda started to play with Y/n’s hair, waiting for her to talk. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us…and I wanted to tell you something.” Y/n sat up, leaning on her arm for support as Wanda remained lying down on the bed.

They held hands as Y/n added, “Loving me is hard.” Wanda frowned at the statement. “It’s something I’ve thought about a lot. And sometimes I doubt if this is the right path for you.” Feeling Y/n’s insecurities rise, Wanda sat up and cupped Y/n’s cheeks. “You are my path Y/n. There’s no doubt about that.”

“You say that but tomorrow is our wedding. There’s no going back after that. You’re going to be stuck with me forever.”

“You act as if that’s such a bad thing dekta.” Y/n sighed not knowing how to formulate her thoughts. “I chose you when I came back to you. I chose you again when I said yes to engaging you. And I will say yes once more tomorrow to have forever with you.” Wanda kissed Y/n long and hard. It almost made Y/n forget about her worries.

Y/n rubbed Wanda’s arms hoping her thoughts wouldn’t sound too jumbled. “Choosing me then is different compared to choosing me tomorrow.” Y/n looked into Wanda’s eyes with all seriousness and declared, “If you choose to love me, you will love the very person this whole galaxy will be known to hate. The very sound of my name will not only bring assassins to kill me but armies to destroy me.” Y/n invaded Wanda’s space inch by inch. Tension building in their eyes and body. “If you choose me,” barely any space was between them now, “you will be with the person that will bring generations of families to death as the galaxy will go through its darkest times with me.”

Evil lingered in Y/n’s eyes. The very eyes that Wanda had fallen for.

“If you choose me,” swallowing her pride, Y/n confessed, “they will hate you.” There was no going back, but Wanda was a smart girl. She knew the consequences of falling for an Aetos, yet there was always part of her that willingly went back each time. Like a drug, she couldn’t quit.

What does it mean to fall in love with the person everyone hates? It meant seeing them for something else. A different side only special to you. It meant power beyond their control just to make sure you were safe. It meant that they would choose you versus the world every - single - time.

“Do you choose me?” There was no pause, no hesitation when Wanda replied. Her heart and mind were already set ages ago.

“...I do.”

<|>

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sheeluvsme · 1 year

Text

Let’s talk about how price is literally husband material …

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE HEAD CANNONS 🙋🏻‍♀️🙋🏻‍♀️🙋🏻‍♀️ I love this man sm …. I normally hate facial hair on a guy BUT GOD DAYM COD MEN PULL THAT SHIT OFF..

Mix of sfw and nsfw blurbs bc I’m a silly guy. I really enjoy writing this shit bc I literally will be kicking my feet twirling my hair .. ( warning fem body parts used!) as I write this shit LMAOO enjoy!!! Ps. Not proof read..I wrote this at like 4 in the morning

He literally is so good to you , you can’t even be like mad at him over ANYTHING.

There was a time he accidentally dropped his cigar and it caught the bare skin of your leg AND HE FELT SO BADDDDD

He literally can not stand the thought of you being hurt..

He DEF SENDS CARE PACKAGES WHEN HES OUT FOR MONTHS AT A TIME

Being gone for so long he always takes a shirt of yours DRENCHED in your most used perfume so when he sleeps he can trick his brain into thinking your there.

He would be a king of taking care of your son your period!!!

Your sitting there curled up trying to not wake him up but you are just in so much pain :// and his ass senses it through his slumber?:!:?:?

“ you alright love?” He mutters into your shoulder. GOD HIS MORNING VOICE IS HOT. He woke up from feeling you tense up and sigh and whine quietly from the pain. “ yeah. Just my period.” You mumble into your pillow. He carefully pulls his arm around you , “ where” he asks. “ what-?” You ask confused. “ where is it cramping now love? I’ll massage it for you.” He whispered. You can’t help but swoon because you got the best husband in the WORLD “it’s my stomach right now-“ and immediately he takes his hand rubbing your stomach. The pain is suddenly being soothed and you can finally un-tense. “ theree you go love. I got you.” He kisses your shoulder softly. “ I’ll stay like this for a bit and then ill grab your heating blanket and a cup of tea hm? “ you feel him smile against your shoulder.

He’s very caring towards you but let’s not forget how you treat him like royalty fr

He always comes back with SOMETHING wrong with his back , and he whines about it to you every time so you’ll massage his back for him. He always wins you over.

He thinks he’s def undeserving of you, your so sweet to him! He’s not used to women liking him just because you love him as a person himself. He’s had past girlfriends that just liked him for money benefits. Not you though, you literally freak out when he spends WAY too much on you “ John price!?— how much was this necklace??” And he always smiles and says “ don’t worry about it. “ he has learned lots of money saving tricks from you , he calls you a penny pincher LMAOO, he thinks it’s cute though you worry about him spending to much money like he doesn’t got enough.

He absolutely adores when you wear his hat , he thinks your the cutest thing on planet earth but dear god he’d never let you near any of the shit he does😭

You get along with 141 pretty well and it makes price really happy.

You’ve all been to the bar numerous of times and he likes watching you and soap bicker about stupid shit “ you..you eat lamb stomach?” “ ITS CALLED HAGGIS AND ITS GOOD!!”

Ghost and price giggling in the background.

They know how much you mean to there captain so they also would do anything to protect you

Your at a bar with them and some guy try’s talking to you and grabs your shoulder THEN HE JUST SEES A BUNCH OF TALL ASS GUYS GLARING HIM DOWN LMAOO let’s hope Buddy wore brown pants 🙏🏻

NSFW !!

Price lovesssssss eating you out , LITERALLY ANYWHERE IN YOUR FUCKING HOUSE. Especially if you had a shitty day at work , your in the shower trying to rinse off the day and suddenly you feel your not alone anymore..

Manz lifts you up on HIS SHOULDERS SO HE CAN EAT YOU OUT

He’s more dominant but he doesn’t mind you taking lead AT ALL

Man goes insane when you ride him

He can’t sleep , but you know he needs to. He hasn’t been sleeping much sense his last mission, he’s clearly stressed. Your hugging him..hugging turns to kissing. Kissing turns to groping, and then it turns to you ontop of him grinding against his bulge. “ fuck..let me take care of you, yeah?” You simply shake your head “ no captain. It’s time I take care of you.” He can’t deny your request when you look heavenly ontop of him. Helping each other slip off each other’s clothes, he loves looking at your tits , he finds how they feel so nice in his hands. He can’t help but grunt when you sit down on him and slowly begin to move your hips. His hands are gripped TIGHTLY against your hips. He can’t stop himself from using his hands to help move you and fuck you , he wants to be able to hit the deepest parts of you because honestly he fantasizes about getting your pregnant. He loves shooting a full load in you and praying you get pregnant, be there to take care of you , and most Importantly get to see a little baby made by you and him!!! Makes him go nuts , that’s why you and him fuck way too much around your cycle.

He is BIG into photos and videos of you.

He records videos of him fucking you and then watch them while he’s away, or he’ll take pictures to look at when he feels lonely on a trip!!!

He keeps a nude picture of you in his wallet ;)) soap was traumatized when price asked him to get something out his wallet and he found something HE DID NOT WANT TO SEE , soap has you and him down in his phone as ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ seeing that was horrific for him 😭😭

Thank you for reading <33 commissions open!!!

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ashen-char · 2 months

Text

needy 🔞

ship: max fox (better things) x gender neutral reader (insomuch as the reader uses a strap but there are no references to your gender identity/expression)

warnings: explicit smut, strap-on sex

summary: after you two talk about your sex life, your girlfriend has been even needier than usual. she wants you to strap her down.

word count: 2700+

notes: written as a continuation from you like that? 🔞 but can be read on its own. requested here

You can feel Max's stare on you. She’s lying on your bed, having flopped down right after walking in, moaning about how beat she was from work. Max likes to stride right in like she owns the place, flexing that you gave her a set of keys and that she can do whatever she likes. She's a cutie like that.

Being a hostess means a lot of standing around in heels and running all over the place to keep the tables in her section happy. Big smiles and being polite all the time - Max was great at it, but it wasn't for you.

You were at your desk, busy on your computer when she came in. She said she didn’t want to bother you, so you let her relax. Told her to kick her heels off and change into something more comfy. But now, it’s clear she wants your attention.

"What's up?" you ask, swirling your desk chair over to look at her.

A smile comes to your lips. Max had taken your invitation to make herself at home very literally, stealing one of your hoodies and sweats while her dress is now a crumpled mess on your bedroom floor. The oversized look works on her, making your girlfriend look all cozy and sweet.

"This is so sick," Max complains from her spot in your sheets. "I came over to be loved and this is what I get. Ignored. Neglected."

In a huff, Max grabs one of your pillows and hugs it tight, until her face is burrowed in it. She snuggles up to like it's an imperfect stand-in for you, with only half of your scent and your comfort. Because you're being so mean right now by being on the other side of the room. It's playful, but you know there's truth to it. After your very heated, very spicy discussion about what you two enjoy in bed last week - namely, that you like when Max tells you want to do - Max has gotten better at telling you what she needs. And right now, she needs attention.

It's a slow process. Learning that she can ask for anything in this relationship is one thing, but being encouraged to be outspoken is another. Max has loved leaning into it. She likes to interrupt your conversations for a quick 'kiss me' before going straight back into listening to you.

"Oh no. Whatever shall we do?" you tease.

To your sarcasm, Max lifts her head from the pillow and rolls her eyes at you. Max shifts, her impatience palpable. With a pout, she holds her arms up. "Give me love. Now."

And how could you refuse that? Shutting your laptop lid with a satisfying click, you make your way over to her. She grabs your hips the instant you're close enough, because to her, you're never close enough. She leans in and plants a passionate kiss to your mouth, clumsy, desperate, a needy motion that tells you how much she missed you.

Breaking the kiss, Max murmurs, "I've been thinking about what you said." When she pulls back, her big brown eyes peer into yours like she's waiting for a reaction.

"Uh, what thing specifically?" You let Max lead you into your bed. Joining her in your sheets, you can't help but laugh when she crawls onto you and wraps her arms around your neck.

"Well," Max says, shifting from her spot on your lap, but whether it's embarrassment or impatience you can't tell, "I'm talking about that thing about how you feel good when I feel good. That you'd be willing to, uh, be a bit rougher if I like it."

Right. You could tell your discussion last week affected Max - she was so wet on your fingers and tongue that night. No doubt your promise to give in to Max's pleasure-pain kink drove the girl crazy. It's not like you didn't know beforehand. She screamed and whined the prettiest when you got aggressive.

"Yeah, I remember. I've been trying," you say with a nod. When her eyes dart down, sheepish, you tilt her head back up so Max can look at you. "And what's the verdict? Has it been good, bad, not enough?"

"Good. Very good." Max nods to herself at that. "You don't need to worry about that."

You can tell just what memory she's thinking about when she grabs at the sheets and balls it up in her fists. Last night, you had Max sprawled across your bed, her legs draped over your shoulders. Head buried between them. Just working over her clit hungrily, lapping up her juices. Her hands were tangled in your hair the way she's wringing the sheets now, guiding your movements with little moans and groans, telling you just where to bring that tongue. Very good indeed.

"Alright. What did you wanna say about it then, if I don't need to be worried?" you ask eventually, breaking her out of her reverie.

"Well, you know how we bought that strap together last month, but we never had the chance to properly use it?" Max starts. She holds eye contact with you this time, those beautiful big brown eyes of hers staring you down. Maybe even daring you to deny her. "I want you to fuck me with it. Like hard. I've been wanting you to rail me, babe."

You want to. Obviously. And it's clear Max wants you to. "Look, trust me. I've been excited to try it too," you start. But something in you is still all protective and worried, just like the day she convinced you to buy it. It seemed too big. And if you were to go as rough on her as you want to, to dick her down properly? You're not sure she can take it. But you hold those words back, knowing Max would throw a fit if you were going too soft on her again. "I just-"

After a beat of you not answering, she tucks her bottom lip between her teeth before whining. "Come onnnn, it'll be fun. Don't tell me you've never thought about it."

"Of course I do!"

Max untangles herself from your hold, and for a second you half-worry she's just going to storm off. But instead, your lovely girlfriend positions herself flirtatiously on your bed, shifting to her hands and knees. "You don't want to hit this?" When she shakes her ass, you have to stifle back a moan.

"Oh come on, that's not fair," you breathe out.

"No, baby. What's unfair is that I'm not being strapped to oblivion right now," Max retorts, "even though I waited all patiently for a month and I'm asking super nicely!"

It's cute. Only Max would think she's being patient and sweet when she's yelling at you. And you never could say no to Max. At least, not for long. Not when she juts out her bottom lip like that and gives you the puppy dog eyes. So you throw up your hands and stand from your bed.

"Fine, fine. I think I put it somewhere around here anyways," you grumble.

Going to your closet as Max quickly celebrates by herself, rolling around on your bed with that shit-eating grin on her face, you rifle through your stuff. Past the boxes and the messy pile of your clothes. Probably in the underwear drawer where you hide your toys.

You find the harness in your handy backpack, a more reasonably sized dildo still attached to it from last time (already clean! You're not gross!). The new dildo on the other hand, you find tucked deep in the back of one of your drawers. You step into the harness, replacing the old dildo with this new one. The silicone's weight tugs at the back of your hips as you adjusted the straps, not used to one this size. You wonder how Max will handle it. The thought makes you smile and once it's secure, you couldn't hide your eagerness.

"Oh, you're gonna be wrecked, babe," you chuckle from behind the closet door. "This new strap is a baddd idea."

"I love bad ideas," Max tells you. She sits on the edge of the bed, biting her bottom lip with a mix of anticipation and excitement. "Come and take me, baby. I want that huge cock of yours." You can hear the joke in her tone, but the word 'huge' is apt.

Shutting the door, you step out and let Max see what she's in for. It's honestly obscene. You had to switch out the ring of your harness to attach this new bad boy, since the base was too thick. The thickest part of it is the circumference of your wrist. Max's eyes widen. You wonder if she looks more nervous or thrilled. "Jesus."

"Yeah, I know." You move in closer, getting on top of your girlfriend until your breath is hot against her ear. "It's not too late. I could go and switch it for the normal one," you offer.

"Don't you fucking dare." Max playfully spreads her legs, showing off her pretty blue panties. "You know I've been wanting something bigger. It looks so sexy on you too," she whispers.

You move further onto the bed until you're kneeling between her spread legs. Taking the silicone in her hand, she grabs it by the base and starts rubbing it against her center. Teasing herself until a wet spot is visible in the fabric.

"Oh, fuck."

You can't tell if the next moan you hear comes out of her, as the engorged head of this thing brushes against her clit, or out of you as you watch her. She's gorgeous. She's filthy.

"I want this in me. Now." Max grips it and you tense up for a while like you were expecting to feel it. "So lay down. I'm gonna ride you."

"Your wish is my command," you say, doing just that.

You think you can hear Max's heart racing. You can feel her eyes staring down the massive equipment you've got on, lip tucked between her teeth, like she finds it so mind-numbingly sexy that you're gonna dick her down with something this ridiculous.

You tug her panties, soaked now after all that rubbing, and tuck it to the side, exposing her glistening pussy. God, you want to lick her out until she's begging for mercy. But that's not what Max asked for. Not today.

"You need to relax for this, baby," you instruct. Grabbing the bottle of lube beside your bed, you smear a healthy dollop on the head and along the shaft. "Go slow. Just to start, at least."

Max's eyes flit up to meet yours. You catch the slightest bit of protest, knowing Max was going to complain that you were being soft on her again. But your eyes tell her that you're serious, so she lets it go.

The tip presses against her entrance, parting her swollen folds. "Fuck...!" Max's eyes squeeze shut, her body trembling, her hand instantly reaching out and grabbing your hip.

With a shaky breath to collect herself, Max slowly starts pushing herself onto it. You watch as the head - your head, your strap, your cock - breaches her slowly but surely. Her nails dig into your skin, as the thickness stretches her.

It's never been this slow to start before. Usually, you could get right down to business, sliding your strap in to the hilt and making Max squeal. This has a different appeal. The way her body reluctantly, but still oh so needily, takes you in, shows every bit of your girl's greediness. It probably burns. Aches. But her pupils are so blown out due to her arousal that you know Max can't feel it, that she's adoring being stretched. A part of you wants to jerk your hips up and split her open. You know she'd fucking love that. But it's your job to be the reasonable one.

"You're so wet," you whisper.

Max lets out a shaky moan, a needy pathetic thing, her hands grasping onto you as she adjusts to the new sensation. She's taken the whole head now, and a little of the shaft. There's so much left to go and there's already a slight bulge in her tummy. "Shitttt, baby. 'm gonna cry," she tells you.

"Fuck."

Your hands go to her shirt, grabbing her, pulling her down until your lips capture hers. You can't take it when she's like that. You hate when she sounds hurt, your instincts telling you to remind her she can stop. Max sounds like she's loving it. Your greedy girl shifts, taking more, sobbing.

All you can do to support her is to hold her waist, guiding her. Eventually, after what feels like fucking hours, the full length of the dildo is nestled inside her, filling Max completely. You want to give her a break, a kiss as congratulations, to tell her you're proud of her or something. God, you don't know. You feel completely out of your mind right now and you can't even imagine how Max must be feeling. Max does the opposite. She grinds and rubs up against you, like she's whining that you're already hilted all the way inside her.

"Is it good?" you ask.

Max's eyes flutter open, meeting your gaze. A look of pure pleasure and contentment washes over her pretty features, her big brown eyes looking blissed out. "So good. Very good." With a grateful smile, she nods to you, indicating her readiness to continue. "Hurry up and fuck me."

You lean in, nipping at Max's neck before starting a slow rhythm. You want to let Max's body adapt, after all, and you're hoping the bite will make her wait a little longer before she asks you to speed up.

From your hips, her fingers slide down to your ass, gripping you there as if willing you to thrust up into her harder. You oblige. As you start to put in the hip work, you know you're doing well when Max moans softly into your mouth and she arches into your touch. Her soft breasts press against yours.

"A-ah." A broken moan. A twitch. Max is enjoying this more than she usually does. "You're so big," she tells you in a breathless whisper.

"You're the one that chose the size," you remind. "Can't take it?"

Max shakes her head and starts to move her hips of her own volition. "No, I love it. Don't stop."

Going beyond meeting each thrust with her hips now, Max makes good on your word and starts riding you. She just couldn't help but take control, going from rocking her hips with yours in sync to grinding against your lap. It makes the bit of the strap that rubs up against you provide more friction, something you were sorely needing. You watch as every time you hilt in her, a bulge protrudes out, and you can't help but think about how you're rearranging her guts right now. How Max's body is accommodating you so well even with the dildo's size, that she needs your dick so much she'll go through the pain for it.

"I-I love you," she mumbles between kisses, the words slurred. "Oh, fuck."

Max's fingers make their way to her clit, rubbing in small furious circles as she rode the large dildo to oblivion. You can see the telltale signs. Her body quivers, the rubbing at her clit getting more insistent. You don't even need the "I'm close!" that escapes Max's lips, already prepared for when she gasps and her pussy clenches around you. You can basically feel it. She's clenching you, not some cheap silicone, milking your cock for all you've got.

"That's it, baby," you say. "I'm here." You let her ride out her orgasm, shoving your cock up into her in time with her shaking, biting and kissing and biting her neck some more. You can feel the waves and waves of ecstasy wracking her body. Grinding your hips against Max, you intensify the experience for both of you.

And finally, when the tremors subside, Max collapses onto your body, panting heavily against your chest. You slip the strap out of her, making Max make a small whimper of protest. "I love you too," you tell her.

#mikey madison #better things #max fox #max fox x reader #mikey madison x reader #requested

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