applejusue

[applejusue]

little by little ii. ┆ part i.

cw: dealer!ellie, cheerleader!reader, anxiety, weed, childhood trauma, soft.

The clock ticked faster with every second you stared,  glittering ballpoint smacking against your open text book absently. You were nowhere near algebra, instead thinking about the stupid impulse that had led you to none other than Ellie Williams out in the field  — and now, you had two choices:

Go to your last class, an important one at that because you had a chem final on Tuesday, or ditch it to go meet the school’s favourite bad girl in the forest in the hopes of getting some weed. God, it sounded ridiculous on your tongue, you’d never even touched a cigarette and now you were trying to buy drugs? 

No wonder she didn’t take you seriously.

Your foot stammered beneath the chair, scrubbed clean converse squeaking faintly each time your heel twisted against the tile. The professor rambled along, gesturing to equations on the board but it was nothing more than background noise, head too loud to focus. The glitter pen rolled between your fingers as you tried to ignore that sinking feeling, that pit in your stomach that opened wider every time you thought about —

Fifteen minutes.

The truth was that everything was crumbling, shorter days mixed with longer nights in a deliriously exhausting cocktail. Beneath the cheap concealer, the bags holding your eyes looked closer to duffels, heavy and swollen from bright lights and small fonts. You needed to be perfect, to get into your dream college with your highschool sweetheart, to get all the things you’d ever wanted since you were thirteen. 

Well, rather what was planned for you since then. 

You’d been walking on a tight leash ever since that birthday, that fleeting sleepover with your childhood friend when you’d kissed her half way through ‘Runaway bride’. That was the first time you’d felt that feeling, the immediate crash of nausea that settled in your stomach the second it passed. Even now you lay in bed, unable to shake the look on your mother’s face when she came to pick you up no matter how tightly you shut your eyes.

She never mentioned it by name, you didn’t either — but things changed.

Your social life got ripped from the ground like rotten weeds, strict curfews and meet ups that only took place in the library to study. That closeness you used to have evaporated, replaced instead with your room being torn apart while you were at school, with your cell being taken at 10pm. No grade was a good grade unless it was perfect, you weren’t good unless you were perfect. 

And so you washed your hands, stared at the textbooks until you physically couldn’t make out the words anymore — and pretended you never thought about anything else other than that life they wanted. 

One more year. 

Across the classroom your boyfriend sat idle, legs kicked back while he aimed a scrunched up paper airplane at the quiet kid who sat in front. A leered smile clung to his chin, glancing toward you like a little kid about to do something they know will piss you off. You swallowed deeply, turning your face away with a forced grin that felt like gritting through hot coal. 

It was a wonder that your mother even let him around, to take you out for ice cream and drive you home — but you knew that deep down to her having a boyfriend meant that you weren’t up to anything else. She could control it, and that was the difference.

You’d met him last year after cheer practice, he’d come up to you in front of all the other girls and practically begged you to take his number. Stuck on the spot with a hot jock and a legion of grinning faces, how could you say no? 

So you smiled then like you do now, polite, innocent, forced.

Luckily, he wasn’t allowed to stay over at yours nor were you allowed to stay ‘round his. All you had to do was survive a few hours of school, lie through your teeth about being too busy with class whenever he tried to drag you to the lockers and keep a clear head.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him, maybe some part of you deep down liked the security of him — the way it took the attention off you. Things were just too loud, too frantic, skin too prickled whenever he tried to press against you. Maybe it was the knowing what he wanted, what you never wanted to give. 

Pushing the blame was easy, convincing yourself that it was the stress that made everything about him feel so wrong. What wasn’t easy to push aside was the day you bumped into her in the middle of the hallway, the way she half caught you with a tattooed arm. The way that suddenly you were no longer counting down the seconds til the bell rang, didn’t feel like you had to rush to the nearest sink when her eyes met yours.

Three minutes.

◞ ◞

Ellie leaned against the barbed fence, sloppily rolled cigarette pinched between her calloused fingers as she scanned the field wearily. You were late, and she was running out of patience. Every minute that passed felt like humiliation, it felt like waiting for Joel to come home with sticky pasta from the twenty-four hour chain. She shoved her heavy boots against the dirt, eyes pierced for the slightest signal that this was a bust. 

“Fuck this..”

She muttered under her breath, tossing the thin roll and crushing it into the yellowed grass. It was no damn surprise, why did she think a pretty popular girl like you would actually do something this shady? If anything she felt like the bigger dumbass for showing up. Ellie shoved her hands into her pockets, ready to duck away into the woods like she’d never been here in the first place. 

Then she spotted it, that small figure in the distance that was slowly jogging closer. Her mouth ran dry, because for the first time someone hadn’t left her wondering. You’d gotten changed since gym class, now in your cheer sweats and a baggy green striped jumper that no doubt belonged to that boyfriend of yours. 

When you finally caught up you were slightly breathless, looking up at her like you always did — like you still weren’t sure you were allowed to be near her.

Ellie pushed away from the fence, weary eyes trailing over your wind mussed hair.

“Didn’t think you were gonna show..” Her voice came low, a hint of rumbled pettiness that swallowed each syllable despite her efforts to act like she didn’t care whether you came or didn’t. You tugged at the hem of your sweatshirt, fingers trembling idly while you pushed up your shoulders. A small, placating smile set on your curved chin, head raising shyly.

“I didn’t think so either..”  Your voice was a gentle whisper, soft enough to force Ellie to drop all that anger she carried straight into the mud, regardless of whether she wanted to hold onto it. She exhaled deeply, tongue mulling over the silver ring that split through her bottom lip. You had all these little quirks that Ellie didn’t know what to do with, and so she tried to ignore the way she felt about them.

She tilted her head toward the chain metalled fence that marked the bounds of the football field, eyeing you knowingly. 

“You know how to get up?”

Ellie watched as you stared blankly, wide eyes moving to the barbed fence like it would rip your every limb. She’d swore you were thinking outloud, because your nerves were starting to rub off her — it made her antsy. With a begrudging sigh, she pushed closer to the gate, crouching down.

“I’ll boost you, just lift and grab on. It’s not a far jump, just drop down the other side yeah?” Her torn up jeans planted firmly into the wet grass, calloused hands outstretched for you to step onto. For a minute you just stared down at her, now kneeling by your ankles. The wind blew through her scruffy bangs, tattoo peeking out from beneath her flannel sleeve. And God, you swallowed deep. 

There was something about the way it all came so easy to her, to just throw you over like it wasn’t against the rules — like both of you weren’t meant to be in class right now. It drew you in, made you feel like maybe nothing bad would happen if you broke out of that pattern that kept you cable tied.

With one final glance back at the school and about fifty different thoughts about what your mother would say, you stepped forward. You inhaled weakly, shaking fingers pushing through the linked chains before slowly lifting your shoe into her warm palm. She felt steady, and for the first time you found yourself wanting to trust that she’d keep you safe.

But that was naive, even you knew that. This was Ellie Williams, notorious for picking fights — the very same girl who lashed out at the principal and vandalised the bathrooms. She wasn’t loyal to a girl like you, she just needed your money. And yet..

“I’ve got you, yeah? I‘ve thrown up guys twice your size..” Her voice was low, sarcastically playful as though she could sense that you were one small snap from scattering like a wild doe. What she didn’t know was that you were all to familiar with being thrown. It was the fall that you never got used to, the wondering if anyone would catch you when you did.

Still, it was too late to back down. So instead you gave her a careful nod, bending your knees in that way that came easy after years of cheerleading, and you let her throw.

You latched onto the barbed chains at the top, swinging your calves across the fence and feeling the thud against your ankles once you planted down to the other side. It felt like your heart was about to hammer through your ribcage, because now you were trespassing. Now, there was no going back to the way you were.

Ellie stared at you through the links for a split minute, like even she couldn’t believe that you’d actually done it. She wasn’t smiling, rather something different — like you weren’t what she’d expected. Then, she tugged up her frayed sleeves and braced her calloused fingers against the fence, dragging herself up. Ellie scaled it easily, like she’d been doing it for years.

◞ ◞

The silence was heavy, ears met with nothing but the crunch of dried leaves beneath Ellie’s boots and the whip of the wind. It was quiet enough that you were certain she could hear how loud your heart was beating, how unsteady your breathing felt. The two of you were somewhere deep on the trail, and the fact that you had no idea where she was leading you did little to help the unease. 

Would something happen out here? Would anyone notice if it did?

With every minute that passed you were reminded that you should be in class, that this was a stupid idea and that you were doing something that was highly likely to get you in deep shit if you got caught. The thing was that you needed this — you needed some sort of distraction to ease the constant noise in your head before it drove you insane. You were already paranoid, head whipping at every snapped branch and rustled bush. 

God, you just wanted it to be quiet for once, to not have to think for once. Unbeknownst to you, the girl walking by your side felt something similar. 

The wind fluttered against Ellie’s scuffed up bangs, beating into Joel’s old coat while the two of you walked down the old grit trail. You hadn’t said a word since she’d tossed you over, just walked quietly at her side and practically vibrated with every step. She didn’t have a clue what to say, if she should even say anything at all, so she kept moving — eyes splitting between you and the deepening forest. 

You twisted with every sound, lashes fluttering restlessly in an effort to keep an eye on anything that shifted. She’d expected you to be jumpy, this wasn’t exactly the norm for a girl like you. What she hadn’t expected was for you to be so.. scared, and she was starting to wonder if it was because of her. 

Eventually, she led you into a small clearing where an old wooden bench sat, rotted green from years of sitting absent. Faint initials were carved against the seats, one side dented from the poor conditions. Ellie trudged forward, slumping down with crossed legs and swinging her backpack up onto the creaking table. While she rooted through her bag, you continued to stand by the opening — head spinning and heart sinking the further you stepped from the comfort of control.

Too far to turn back, too scared to move forward, because moving forward meant you weren’t happy.

“I haven’t got all day sweetheart..” Ellie called from the bench, dragging a small lunchbox from the bag and keeping her eyes lowered because she knew if they landed on you she’d soften up. This was business, she couldn’t afford that. Your footsteps approached quietly, and Ellie kept her head down as she cracked open the lunchbox to pull out a small baggie. 

A deep sigh left her lips as she tossed down the small pouch, watching the way you eyed it like it was poisonous — they way your hands were tucked into your lap because they were probably still trembling.

She took a minute to look at you proper, the creased concealer that was starting to smudge, your dry lower lip despite the Vaseline she always watched you apply.

“S’ just weed, you know..” Ellie murmured softer, folding her arms against the bench and wanting to keel inward at that strange need to make you feel better, to see you less nervous. She shouldn’t care— she didn’t care, but you were making her antsy. 

An unsteady laugh left your lips, enough to tear down that blanket of tension that was smothering your nose because she made it sound so simple.

It’s just weed. 

You tugged at the sleeves of your boyfriend’s sweatshirt, a slow growing smile on your lips despite the fact that your heart was threatening to double out of your gut. After a minute, you peered up at the taller girl from beneath your lashes.

She didn’t look as scary like this, with her smudged up eyeliner and white headphones peeking out from her shirt collar. 

“I’m sorry I just— still can’t really believe I’m doing this..” You admitted honestly, gaze drifting to that little plastic bag and the substance within that you didn’t even know how to use. The wind blew through your curls gently, crows squawking overhead. Being in the forest didn’t feel as daunting as you’d expected, instead it felt peaceful.. quiet. 

“That makes two of us, I mean- shit still feel like this is some stupid joke. Y/N L/N, the cheer captain and little ball of sunshine is looking to get blazed..” Ellie let out a small huff, mouth still firmed in a line despite the amusement that twinkled in her eyes.

It seemed to ease her own nerves, getting to acknowledge how strange this whole thing was. She glanced toward her old lunchbox, faded scribbled stars and a dent in the left side from when it’d fallen from her backpack in eight grade.

“Hell, do you even know how to use any of this?” She muttered, eyes moving back to yours with a raised brow. It wasn’t a huge surprise when you shook your head shyly, knowing that she probably thought you were the lamest girl she’d ever met. Instead, the brunette nodded, pulling back the baggie and dragging out some papers from her little box. 

S’alright, I’ll get you started.. —’tll cost you extra though,” Ellie murmured within a breath, licking the tip of her calloused fingers and rolling you out some joints. And just like that, a deep breath left your nose, shoulders sinking. It almost made your heart crumble to mush, because you hadn’t expected her to be.. sweet.

“Thank you..” You spoke softly, listening to the faint rustling papers and the flap of nearby birds on branches. It was a nice spot, isolated and calming. You found yourself lost as you watched her, the inked moth that peeked out from beneath her sleeve, the way her tongue stuck out when she concentrated. Ellie could feel your eyes, and spoke without even looking up.

“You’re doing it again..” 

“Hm? Doing what..” You murmured back, cheeks stinging red as she glanced up.

“I don’t mean to, you’re just..” You hesitated, watching that sullen brow, those dark eyes that looked straight back into yours rather than what lay below. 

“That,” Ellie quipped, pointing a finger at your face. “Always catch you lookin’ at me like I’ve got five heads or something..”

A hint of insecurity crept into the taller girl’s voice, eyes moving away wearily. You felt your cheeks burn faintly, an awkward laugh tumbling from your lips before you could stop it. It wasn’t a lie, something drew you to staring at her — even in the hallways.

“Different, to me— I mean. Not used to seeing someone with your.. style.” A dusted smile peeked up onto your chin, allowing yourself to let go of that tightness in your chest for just a few minutes, the deep drone at the back of your skull now a muffled hum. The breeze fluttered against your sweater, the bench felt steady beneath your feet.

“Freaky, right? Old man nearly had a heart attack when he saw me come home with these..” Ellie chuckled, gesturing to the bar that stuck through her left brow and the silver ring that split through her lower lip. Her laugh felt warm, it felt real. You didn’t think she was freaky at all. 

“I like them, suits you..”

Ellie wasn’t expecting that, her freckled cheeks blazed pink because a girl like you with her hair tied back using a dainty ribbon liked the way she looked, the ripped clothes and the piercings that would have your mother lose her mind. 

She glanced back down, trying to ignore the way her skin felt ripe and the way her fingers stumbled over the damp papers for a split second.

“You aren’t that bad either, for someone who dresses like a cheerleader..” She mumbled that last part under her breath, lip twitching ever so slightly. 

“I am a cheerleader,” You reminded, raising a brow.

“Exactly..” She teased, that smirk finally breaking free onto her lips. It had you letting out a small laugh, because even though you didn’t really get it, seeing her guard lowering made you feel more at ease. 

Well — until there was another snap behind you. 

Ellie watched the way you went rigid again, palms braced against the edge of the table. You were still jumpy, and that made her curious. She leaned forward carefully, unable to resist the urge to pry just a little. 

“Why’d you need it? I mean— you’re a good lookin’ girl, got yourself a boyfriend and good grades and everything.. You don’t seem like the type to do somethin’ like this..” Her voice was a little more cautious now, because for the first time since she turned nineteen, Ellie Williams didn’t want to hurt someones feelings. Yours, especially. 

“I’m not..” You confessed beneath a soft sigh. Who were you kidding, it’d taken more guts to skip class than it took most people to steal a car. You were out of your depth, but left with no other options. The stress was too much, everything was too loud, you just needed—

“Do you ever feel like-.. you can’t stop thinking? Like.. there’s just this noise all the time..” Every word felt rotten on your tongue, like it shouldn’t be coming out this way. Even now, it felt like you could’ve phrased that better, said something differently. 

“Probably sounds stupid, I know-..” You let out an awkward laugh, barely masking the dampness gathering along your dark lashes.

Ellie stared quietly, taking in the way your eyes glistened despite the wobbling smile you tried to keep against your chin. It felt like she should say something deeper, whatever it was that you needed to hear, but she wasn’t any good at that. 

And God, you made her want to be. 

“Nah, not stupid..” Her voice was a quiet murmur, the kind that came with understanding. She didn’t have to say it, but you could tell she knew how it felt, how you felt — and that itself was enough to force your heart to slow down. 

Ellie continued to watch you, mulling over her lower lip before letting out a sigh of defeat. 

“Here, I’ll give you the half ounce for twenty, first time discount..” She muttered that last part tinkled with sarcasm, slipping the rolls into the plastic bag before passing them toward you. Ellie wanted to groan at the way your lips peeled into a smile, like you’d won something you weren’t even trying to.

“Take it, I’ll change my mind if you don’t..” 

A quiet laugh left you, fingers reaching for the small pouch and gently brushing against hers in the process. Your stomach ached, because her hands were warm. You forced yourself away, tucking your new little contraband into the pocket of your sleeve. 

“You’re sweeter than you look, you know..” You mused with a softened smile, a real one.

Ellie sat stiff, arms crossed — like she was looking straight at the girl that was going to ruin her.

“Don’t get used to it..”

a/n: starting to get attached to these two, this song is very reader◞ ◞

permanent taglist: @zzelysian, @elliesfreckle, @mars4hellokitty, @satellitespinner, @valeisaslut, @andieprincessofpower, @liztreez, @azxteria, @iadorefineshyt, @vahnilla, @vixenkii, @the-sick-habit, @cupcakesyndromes, @elliescoquettegirl, @alien-catz-in-tuna-canz, @yashirawr, @slutforabbyanderson, @elliesfavwife, @rhian88, @princessofweirdos, @uminitasitdown, @myfavscentislavender, @hitmehardmommy, @piscesthepoet, @simpingondakotajohnson, @honeyylovee.

[applejusue]

little by little ii. ┆ part i.

cw: dealer!ellie, cheerleader!reader, anxiety, weed, childhood trauma, soft.

The clock ticked faster with every second you stared,  glittering ballpoint smacking against your open text book absently. You were nowhere near algebra, instead thinking about the stupid impulse that had led you to none other than Ellie Williams out in the field  — and now, you had two choices:

Go to your last class, an important one at that because you had a chem final on Tuesday, or ditch it to go meet the school’s favourite bad girl in the forest in the hopes of getting some weed. God, it sounded ridiculous on your tongue, you’d never even touched a cigarette and now you were trying to buy drugs? 

No wonder she didn’t take you seriously.

Your foot stammered beneath the chair, scrubbed clean converse squeaking faintly each time your heel twisted against the tile. The professor rambled along, gesturing to equations on the board but it was nothing more than background noise, head too loud to focus. The glitter pen rolled between your fingers as you tried to ignore that sinking feeling, that pit in your stomach that opened wider every time you thought about —

Fifteen minutes.

The truth was that everything was crumbling, shorter days mixed with longer nights in a deliriously exhausting cocktail. Beneath the cheap concealer, the bags holding your eyes looked closer to duffels, heavy and swollen from bright lights and small fonts. You needed to be perfect, to get into your dream college with your highschool sweetheart, to get all the things you’d ever wanted since you were thirteen. 

Well, rather what was planned for you since then. 

You’d been walking on a tight leash ever since that birthday, that fleeting sleepover with your childhood friend when you’d kissed her half way through ‘Runaway bride’. That was the first time you’d felt that feeling, the immediate crash of nausea that settled in your stomach the second it passed. Even now you lay in bed, unable to shake the look on your mother’s face when she came to pick you up no matter how tightly you shut your eyes.

She never mentioned it by name, you didn’t either — but things changed.

Your social life got ripped from the ground like rotten weeds, strict curfews and meet ups that only took place in the library to study. That closeness you used to have evaporated, replaced instead with your room being torn apart while you were at school, with your cell being taken at 10pm. No grade was a good grade unless it was perfect, you weren’t good unless you were perfect. 

And so you washed your hands, stared at the textbooks until you physically couldn’t make out the words anymore — and pretended you never thought about anything else other than that life they wanted. 

One more year. 

Across the classroom your boyfriend sat idle, legs kicked back while he aimed a scrunched up paper airplane at the quiet kid who sat in front. A leered smile clung to his chin, glancing toward you like a little kid about to do something they know will piss you off. You swallowed deeply, turning your face away with a forced grin that felt like gritting through hot coal. 

It was a wonder that your mother even let him around, to take you out for ice cream and drive you home — but you knew that deep down to her having a boyfriend meant that you weren’t up to anything else. She could control it, and that was the difference.

You’d met him last year after cheer practice, he’d come up to you in front of all the other girls and practically begged you to take his number. Stuck on the spot with a hot jock and a legion of grinning faces, how could you say no? 

So you smiled then like you do now, polite, innocent, forced.

Luckily, he wasn’t allowed to stay over at yours nor were you allowed to stay ‘round his. All you had to do was survive a few hours of school, lie through your teeth about being too busy with class whenever he tried to drag you to the lockers and keep a clear head.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him, maybe some part of you deep down liked the security of him — the way it took the attention off you. Things were just too loud, too frantic, skin too prickled whenever he tried to press against you. Maybe it was the knowing what he wanted, what you never wanted to give. 

Pushing the blame was easy, convincing yourself that it was the stress that made everything about him feel so wrong. What wasn’t easy to push aside was the day you bumped into her in the middle of the hallway, the way she half caught you with a tattooed arm. The way that suddenly you were no longer counting down the seconds til the bell rang, didn’t feel like you had to rush to the nearest sink when her eyes met yours.

Three minutes.

◞ ◞

Ellie leaned against the barbed fence, sloppily rolled cigarette pinched between her calloused fingers as she scanned the field wearily. You were late, and she was running out of patience. Every minute that passed felt like humiliation, it felt like waiting for Joel to come home with sticky pasta from the twenty-four hour chain. She shoved her heavy boots against the dirt, eyes pierced for the slightest signal that this was a bust. 

“Fuck this..”

She muttered under her breath, tossing the thin roll and crushing it into the yellowed grass. It was no damn surprise, why did she think a pretty popular girl like you would actually do something this shady? If anything she felt like the bigger dumbass for showing up. Ellie shoved her hands into her pockets, ready to duck away into the woods like she’d never been here in the first place. 

Then she spotted it, that small figure in the distance that was slowly jogging closer. Her mouth ran dry, because for the first time someone hadn’t left her wondering. You’d gotten changed since gym class, now in your cheer sweats and a baggy green striped jumper that no doubt belonged to that boyfriend of yours. 

When you finally caught up you were slightly breathless, looking up at her like you always did — like you still weren’t sure you were allowed to be near her.

Ellie pushed away from the fence, weary eyes trailing over your wind mussed hair.

“Didn’t think you were gonna show..” Her voice came low, a hint of rumbled pettiness that swallowed each syllable despite her efforts to act like she didn’t care whether you came or didn’t. You tugged at the hem of your sweatshirt, fingers trembling idly while you pushed up your shoulders. A small, placating smile set on your curved chin, head raising shyly.

“I didn’t think so either..”  Your voice was a gentle whisper, soft enough to force Ellie to drop all that anger she carried straight into the mud, regardless of whether she wanted to hold onto it. She exhaled deeply, tongue mulling over the silver ring that split through her bottom lip. You had all these little quirks that Ellie didn’t know what to do with, and so she tried to ignore the way she felt about them.

She tilted her head toward the chain metalled fence that marked the bounds of the football field, eyeing you knowingly. 

“You know how to get up?”

Ellie watched as you stared blankly, wide eyes moving to the barbed fence like it would rip your every limb. She’d swore you were thinking outloud, because your nerves were starting to rub off her — it made her antsy. With a begrudging sigh, she pushed closer to the gate, crouching down.

“I’ll boost you, just lift and grab on. It’s not a far jump, just drop down the other side yeah?” Her torn up jeans planted firmly into the wet grass, calloused hands outstretched for you to step onto. For a minute you just stared down at her, now kneeling by your ankles. The wind blew through her scruffy bangs, tattoo peeking out from beneath her flannel sleeve. And God, you swallowed deep. 

There was something about the way it all came so easy to her, to just throw you over like it wasn’t against the rules — like both of you weren’t meant to be in class right now. It drew you in, made you feel like maybe nothing bad would happen if you broke out of that pattern that kept you cable tied.

With one final glance back at the school and about fifty different thoughts about what your mother would say, you stepped forward. You inhaled weakly, shaking fingers pushing through the linked chains before slowly lifting your shoe into her warm palm. She felt steady, and for the first time you found yourself wanting to trust that she’d keep you safe.

But that was naive, even you knew that. This was Ellie Williams, notorious for picking fights — the very same girl who lashed out at the principal and vandalised the bathrooms. She wasn’t loyal to a girl like you, she just needed your money. And yet..

“I’ve got you, yeah? I‘ve thrown up guys twice your size..” Her voice was low, sarcastically playful as though she could sense that you were one small snap from scattering like a wild doe. What she didn’t know was that you were all to familiar with being thrown. It was the fall that you never got used to, the wondering if anyone would catch you when you did.

Still, it was too late to back down. So instead you gave her a careful nod, bending your knees in that way that came easy after years of cheerleading, and you let her throw.

You latched onto the barbed chains at the top, swinging your calves across the fence and feeling the thud against your ankles once you planted down to the other side. It felt like your heart was about to hammer through your ribcage, because now you were trespassing. Now, there was no going back to the way you were.

Ellie stared at you through the links for a split minute, like even she couldn’t believe that you’d actually done it. She wasn’t smiling, rather something different — like you weren’t what she’d expected. Then, she tugged up her frayed sleeves and braced her calloused fingers against the fence, dragging herself up. Ellie scaled it easily, like she’d been doing it for years.

◞ ◞

The silence was heavy, ears met with nothing but the crunch of dried leaves beneath Ellie’s boots and the whip of the wind. It was quiet enough that you were certain she could hear how loud your heart was beating, how unsteady your breathing felt. The two of you were somewhere deep on the trail, and the fact that you had no idea where she was leading you did little to help the unease. 

Would something happen out here? Would anyone notice if it did?

With every minute that passed you were reminded that you should be in class, that this was a stupid idea and that you were doing something that was highly likely to get you in deep shit if you got caught. The thing was that you needed this — you needed some sort of distraction to ease the constant noise in your head before it drove you insane. You were already paranoid, head whipping at every snapped branch and rustled bush. 

God, you just wanted it to be quiet for once, to not have to think for once. Unbeknownst to you, the girl walking by your side felt something similar. 

The wind fluttered against Ellie’s scuffed up bangs, beating into Joel’s old coat while the two of you walked down the old grit trail. You hadn’t said a word since she’d tossed you over, just walked quietly at her side and practically vibrated with every step. She didn’t have a clue what to say, if she should even say anything at all, so she kept moving — eyes splitting between you and the deepening forest. 

You twisted with every sound, lashes fluttering restlessly in an effort to keep an eye on anything that shifted. She’d expected you to be jumpy, this wasn’t exactly the norm for a girl like you. What she hadn’t expected was for you to be so.. scared, and she was starting to wonder if it was because of her. 

Eventually, she led you into a small clearing where an old wooden bench sat, rotted green from years of sitting absent. Faint initials were carved against the seats, one side dented from the poor conditions. Ellie trudged forward, slumping down with crossed legs and swinging her backpack up onto the creaking table. While she rooted through her bag, you continued to stand by the opening — head spinning and heart sinking the further you stepped from the comfort of control.

Too far to turn back, too scared to move forward, because moving forward meant you weren’t happy.

“I haven’t got all day sweetheart..” Ellie called from the bench, dragging a small lunchbox from the bag and keeping her eyes lowered because she knew if they landed on you she’d soften up. This was business, she couldn’t afford that. Your footsteps approached quietly, and Ellie kept her head down as she cracked open the lunchbox to pull out a small baggie. 

A deep sigh left her lips as she tossed down the small pouch, watching the way you eyed it like it was poisonous — they way your hands were tucked into your lap because they were probably still trembling.

She took a minute to look at you proper, the creased concealer that was starting to smudge, your dry lower lip despite the Vaseline she always watched you apply.

“S’ just weed, you know..” Ellie murmured softer, folding her arms against the bench and wanting to keel inward at that strange need to make you feel better, to see you less nervous. She shouldn’t care— she didn’t care, but you were making her antsy. 

An unsteady laugh left your lips, enough to tear down that blanket of tension that was smothering your nose because she made it sound so simple.

It’s just weed. 

You tugged at the sleeves of your boyfriend’s sweatshirt, a slow growing smile on your lips despite the fact that your heart was threatening to double out of your gut. After a minute, you peered up at the taller girl from beneath your lashes.

She didn’t look as scary like this, with her smudged up eyeliner and white headphones peeking out from her shirt collar. 

“I’m sorry I just— still can’t really believe I’m doing this..” You admitted honestly, gaze drifting to that little plastic bag and the substance within that you didn’t even know how to use. The wind blew through your curls gently, crows squawking overhead. Being in the forest didn’t feel as daunting as you’d expected, instead it felt peaceful.. quiet. 

“That makes two of us, I mean- shit still feel like this is some stupid joke. Y/N L/N, the cheer captain and little ball of sunshine is looking to get blazed..” Ellie let out a small huff, mouth still firmed in a line despite the amusement that twinkled in her eyes.

It seemed to ease her own nerves, getting to acknowledge how strange this whole thing was. She glanced toward her old lunchbox, faded scribbled stars and a dent in the left side from when it’d fallen from her backpack in eight grade.

“Hell, do you even know how to use any of this?” She muttered, eyes moving back to yours with a raised brow. It wasn’t a huge surprise when you shook your head shyly, knowing that she probably thought you were the lamest girl she’d ever met. Instead, the brunette nodded, pulling back the baggie and dragging out some papers from her little box. 

S’alright, I’ll get you started.. —’tll cost you extra though,” Ellie murmured within a breath, licking the tip of her calloused fingers and rolling you out some joints. And just like that, a deep breath left your nose, shoulders sinking. It almost made your heart crumble to mush, because you hadn’t expected her to be.. sweet.

“Thank you..” You spoke softly, listening to the faint rustling papers and the flap of nearby birds on branches. It was a nice spot, isolated and calming. You found yourself lost as you watched her, the inked moth that peeked out from beneath her sleeve, the way her tongue stuck out when she concentrated. Ellie could feel your eyes, and spoke without even looking up.

“You’re doing it again..” 

“Hm? Doing what..” You murmured back, cheeks stinging red as she glanced up.

“I don’t mean to, you’re just..” You hesitated, watching that sullen brow, those dark eyes that looked straight back into yours rather than what lay below. 

“That,” Ellie quipped, pointing a finger at your face. “Always catch you lookin’ at me like I’ve got five heads or something..”

A hint of insecurity crept into the taller girl’s voice, eyes moving away wearily. You felt your cheeks burn faintly, an awkward laugh tumbling from your lips before you could stop it. It wasn’t a lie, something drew you to staring at her — even in the hallways.

“Different, to me— I mean. Not used to seeing someone with your.. style.” A dusted smile peeked up onto your chin, allowing yourself to let go of that tightness in your chest for just a few minutes, the deep drone at the back of your skull now a muffled hum. The breeze fluttered against your sweater, the bench felt steady beneath your feet.

“Freaky, right? Old man nearly had a heart attack when he saw me come home with these..” Ellie chuckled, gesturing to the bar that stuck through her left brow and the silver ring that split through her lower lip. Her laugh felt warm, it felt real. You didn’t think she was freaky at all. 

“I like them, suits you..”

Ellie wasn’t expecting that, her freckled cheeks blazed pink because a girl like you with her hair tied back using a dainty ribbon liked the way she looked, the ripped clothes and the piercings that would have your mother lose her mind. 

She glanced back down, trying to ignore the way her skin felt ripe and the way her fingers stumbled over the damp papers for a split second.

“You aren’t that bad either, for someone who dresses like a cheerleader..” She mumbled that last part under her breath, lip twitching ever so slightly. 

“I am a cheerleader,” You reminded, raising a brow.

“Exactly..” She teased, that smirk finally breaking free onto her lips. It had you letting out a small laugh, because even though you didn’t really get it, seeing her guard lowering made you feel more at ease. 

Well — until there was another snap behind you. 

Ellie watched the way you went rigid again, palms braced against the edge of the table. You were still jumpy, and that made her curious. She leaned forward carefully, unable to resist the urge to pry just a little. 

“Why’d you need it? I mean— you’re a good lookin’ girl, got yourself a boyfriend and good grades and everything.. You don’t seem like the type to do somethin’ like this..” Her voice was a little more cautious now, because for the first time since she turned nineteen, Ellie Williams didn’t want to hurt someones feelings. Yours, especially. 

“I’m not..” You confessed beneath a soft sigh. Who were you kidding, it’d taken more guts to skip class than it took most people to steal a car. You were out of your depth, but left with no other options. The stress was too much, everything was too loud, you just needed—

“Do you ever feel like-.. you can’t stop thinking? Like.. there’s just this noise all the time..” Every word felt rotten on your tongue, like it shouldn’t be coming out this way. Even now, it felt like you could’ve phrased that better, said something differently. 

“Probably sounds stupid, I know-..” You let out an awkward laugh, barely masking the dampness gathering along your dark lashes.

Ellie stared quietly, taking in the way your eyes glistened despite the wobbling smile you tried to keep against your chin. It felt like she should say something deeper, whatever it was that you needed to hear, but she wasn’t any good at that. 

And God, you made her want to be. 

“Nah, not stupid..” Her voice was a quiet murmur, the kind that came with understanding. She didn’t have to say it, but you could tell she knew how it felt, how you felt — and that itself was enough to force your heart to slow down. 

Ellie continued to watch you, mulling over her lower lip before letting out a sigh of defeat. 

“Here, I’ll give you the half ounce for twenty, first time discount..” She muttered that last part tinkled with sarcasm, slipping the rolls into the plastic bag before passing them toward you. Ellie wanted to groan at the way your lips peeled into a smile, like you’d won something you weren’t even trying to.

“Take it, I’ll change my mind if you don’t..” 

A quiet laugh left you, fingers reaching for the small pouch and gently brushing against hers in the process. Your stomach ached, because her hands were warm. You forced yourself away, tucking your new little contraband into the pocket of your sleeve. 

“You’re sweeter than you look, you know..” You mused with a softened smile, a real one.

Ellie sat stiff, arms crossed — like she was looking straight at the girl that was going to ruin her.

“Don’t get used to it..”

a/n: starting to get attached to these two, this song is very reader◞ ◞

permanent taglist: @zzelysian, @elliesfreckle, @mars4hellokitty, @satellitespinner, @valeisaslut, @andieprincessofpower, @liztreez, @azxteria, @iadorefineshyt, @vahnilla, @vixenkii, @the-sick-habit, @cupcakesyndromes, @elliescoquettegirl, @alien-catz-in-tuna-canz, @yashirawr, @slutforabbyanderson, @elliesfavwife, @rhian88, @princessofweirdos, @uminitasitdown, @myfavscentislavender, @hitmehardmommy, @piscesthepoet, @simpingondakotajohnson, @honeyylovee.

[applejusue]

YOUR FICS EAT SO HARD I CANT

AWWWW thank you so much hun, I'm glad you like them 🤍

[applejusue]

Tryna take home cowboy!ellie from the bar in Jackson bc why would anyone not she just got out of work and she’s looks so hot

mating calls.

cw: cowboy!ellie, neighbour!reader, drinking, seducing, steamy fluff.

The jukebox crackled faintly the corner, a light jazz floating through the bar. Ellie stood behind the counter, hat tipped low against her forehead as she polished some glasses with an old cloth. The place was empty aside from a few passed out drunkards and the local kid packing up his guitar for the night with a leather case of silver pennies. 

It’d been busy, a typical Saturday night with roughin’ and music but now the blistering sun had set — the town of Jackson growing bitter in the cold, sending many home to the fire. Despite the chill that ran through the streets, Ellie’s shirt was still stained with sweat, the heat still creeping down her back despite her best efforts to wipe her brow.

She leaned across the counter, scrubbing out the sticky beer that grimed the place like rotten grease, not batting as much of an eye when the door chimed. 

That’s when she heard that familiar set of damn clicks, felt that shift in the atmosphere — she swallowed. 

Ellie glanced up from beneath the rim of her hat, its shadow obscuring the mess of red freckled cheeks that spread once her eyes set on you. You stood there like summer itself, the beaut of bouncing curls and red lipstick that always had the preacher shaking his head in dismay. 

You reared in those thin veiled heels, puffed out skirt resting above your ankles just high enough for Ellie to catch those laced stockings, the little bows adorning the top. The other customers stared, drooling down a cider as you batted your lashes absently, looking for some trouble as always. Their ogling never seemed to work on you, instead you preferred to toss your net straight on her.

You’d sunbathe in the garden next’, close enough for her to see whenever she was trying to mow the damn lawn, shirt sleeves rolled up to her elbows and sweat beading down her collar. When Ellie sat out on the porch with a whiskey you’d walk by the fence, offering nothing more than a beckoning wave and a pretty smile with painted fingers that could just as easily drag her across the table. 

When your eyes set on hers it practically split her through, straight down to the heart and back up her throat — like a crosshook that was slowly yanking her toward you. 

A smirk grew across your lips, like a cat that’d just found its favourite play thing, that was ready to pounce. 

And Ellie? God, she unravelled like a ball of yarn — mouth dry and heavy eyes blown whilst you sauntered over, hips swayin’ with every step like you owned every damn room you walked into. She forced her head back down, trying to pretend like she was any better than all the other men in here that couldn’t keep their eyes off you, like she wasn’t thinking the very same thing they were. 

You hoisted yourself up onto the rusty old stool, unsurprisingly right next to where she stood scrubbing. The chair creaked as you leaned forward, elbows planting against the cold counter as that bleeding smirk still pulled up your lips, the one that always got her deep. 

You weren’t subtle, nowhere near it, and that was what did her in.

“Got a whiskey for me, darlin’?” Your voice was gooey like melted caramel, sticking to every inch of her skin the longer you stared up at her. Ellie’s sunburnt cheeks managed to get hotter, freckle stained face dipping as she reached for the bottle — hat drooping low like it could hide how weak she was.

“Depends, you thinkin’ of paying for it this time?” She rumbled back, though there was no real bite to her words, especially when the cowboy couldn’t even look at you straight. Ellie tried to stop the way her fingers twitched the longer your eyes bore into hers, the way the reflection of your pretty pearly whites against the glass did numbers to her ribcage. 

As she leaned across to set the drink down, you met her halfway with a glinted giggle — flicking her dusted hat up and out of her face before grabbing the whiskey, pressing the rim of the bottle to your lips.

“That’s better..”

You mused, hitching down the bitter liquid like you weren’t sending the poor cowboy to an early grave, though even you had to admit it was fun. Wearing those skimpy little things in the front lawn, inviting her over to fix up your garden while offering that sweet homemade lemonade. Who wouldn’t wanna see those speckled cheeks in the sun? That reserved gruff that only came when she was flustered.

It wasn’t the first time you’d shown up at the bar, quite the opposite. You liked to test those murky waters, to play and see how far it got you. So far, she hadn’t seemed to take any of your hints, or at the very least was too shy to follow through on ‘em. 

And so, you were left with one option — being blunt.

“You finally plannin’ on coming home with me tonight, cowboy?” You drawled above the rim of the glass bottle, red lips peeled in a manner that left no room for discussion. That’s when Ellie’s gaze shot to you, really shot, throat bobbing like she’d never known how to deal with an offer like that. 

You chuckled, low and sultry as you leaned further over the counter — enough for her to smell that warm perfume that the heat stuck to your collarbones.

“I don’t bite— you ain’t feel like runnin’ that way then we’ll just talk..” You murmured a little softer now, close enough to count all those damn freckles and take in that smell of smoke and pine leaves. It wasn’t the first time you’d posed a question like that, and for once Ellie wasn’t sure she had it in her to say no. 

Truth was she wanted to come home to a warm little thing like you, to not have to go back to an empty house with nothing but her shaggy briard and a half-hearted can of beans. Yet that little voice in there that kept her away from most things raised its head, remindin’ that she had no business near a woman like you — that she wouldn’t have a clue in the world if she did get you to herself. 

But God did she wanna go with you regardless. 

“Ain’t gettin’ out of here til nine..” She gruffed beneath her breath, cheeks sticky hot and awkward like she still wasn’t used to talking to you, because she wasn’t. You grinned, another breathy giggle that had her melting into the rotten wood like malt vinegar. 

“Fine by me..” The words came to you easy, calmly taking another sip of whiskey like you had all night to toy with her — and deep down, Ellie knew that you did. 

a/n: oh country ellie how i've missed writing about you..◞ ◞

permanent taglist:

@zzelysian, @elliesfreckle, @mars4hellokitty, @satellitespinner, @valeisaslut, @andieprincessofpower, @liztreez, @azxteria, @iadorefineshyt, @vahnilla, @vixenkii, @the-sick-habit, @cupcakesyndromes, @elliescoquettegirl, @alien-catz-in-tuna-canz, @yashirawr, @slutforabbyanderson, @elliesfavwife, @rhian88, @ssshhh-imreading.

[applejusue]

if you want your heart to be broken and rebuilt from the ground up, this is it. ૮․ ․ ྀིა ♡

pairing: ellie williams x sick!reader

synopsis: ellie once thought she held the world in her hands. she had you.

middle school sweethearts turned soulmates, stitched together by clumsy kisses and stolen nights, your love felt eternal—something too tender, too golden, to ever break. but even the brightest stories fade, and even the strongest hearts can falter.

you carried chains no one could see, battles no one could fight for you. yet with ellie beside you, laughter bloomed in the cracks, and for a time, you almost believed forever was real.

ellie still believes. she clings to it like breath itself, because if love this fierce could ever end—what else is there?

for her, it’s not over. it will never be over.

content: MDNI 18+ content, suggestive themes, implied sex, fluff, angst, swearing, childhood friends to lovers, plot heavy, yearning, jealousy, use of y/n l/n, usage of alcohol, underage drinking, slightly closeted reader, sensitive topics (death, grief, loss, severe illness)

proofread by my beloved @applejusue ♡♡

“FUCK,” ELLIE HISSED UNDER HER BREATH, the syllable splitting the air like the snap of a guitar string pulled too tight.

Her boots dragged against the tile, scuffing a restless path that looped over itself again and again. She was a pendulum in motion, trapped in an arc of helplessness, swinging from one end of the waiting room to the other.

The harsh fluorescent light bleached everything around her: the chairs lined up like soldiers, the off-white walls that looked more like bone than paint, even her own skin, washed pale beneath the freckles scattered like constellations across her cheeks.

Ellie was good at hiding her nerves most of the time—masking them with sarcasm, with that cool composure people always swore she had. But right now, she couldn’t mask shit. Her heart felt like it was rattling around in her chest, a wild animal begging to be freed.

Her fingers tugged at the hem of her shirt until the fabric twisted in knots, then moved to her mouth again, biting raw at the tip of her thumb. She didn’t even notice when the taste of copper bloomed on her tongue.

The nurses had given her nothing. No words, no explanations—just those practiced smiles that felt more like brick walls than comfort. 

“Please wait here, Miss Williams. We’ll let you know as soon as we can.”

Over and over, like a recording. Like they weren’t talking about you. LIke they weren’t talking about the person who mattered more to her than anything else in this sterile, indifferent building.

She hated hospitals. The air smelled too clean, sharp with antiseptic, like it was trying to erase the very idea of humanity. And beneath it, faint and choking, was the sour scent of fear—the kind you couldn’t mop off the floors, the kind that lingered in the corners, seeping into your clothes.

Ellie’s eyes flicked toward the double doors for the hundredth time, green irises sharp and desperate, like staring long enough might summon you. Every time the doors cracked open, even just a sliver, she jerked upright, hope clawing it’s way up her throat like ivy. But it was never you. 

Just nurses. 

Just strangers.

Never you.

Her legs finally gave out, and she slumped into one of the plastic chairs, the kind designed more to punish than to comfort. Her knees bounced relentlessly, an offbeat drum she couldn’t silence. “C’mon, Y/N,” she whispered, the words gravelly, frayed around the edges. “Just—just be okay. Please.”

The sound disappeared into the sterile hum of the overhead lights. The waiting room swallowed everything, even her prayers.

And god, the silence hurt worse than noise ever could.

Her thoughts spun out of control, colliding with one another like cars on ice. What if something happened? What if… what if she didn’t get to see you again? The images her mind conjured made her sick—hands trembling, stomach twisting like a rope pulling tighter and tighter until it frayed.

Ellie closed her eyes, pressed her palms against them until sparks of colour burst in the dark. It didn’t help. Behind her lids, memories flooded in like a cruel tide: your laugh ringing across the backyard on a summer night, the way you leaned into her touch even when you pretended not to need it, the softness in your eyes when you caught her off guard.

She clung to those moments like lifelines, replaying them over and over, as if they could shield her from the unknown waiting behind those doors.

She tried to breathe steady, but her chest was a cage too small for the storm inside. Her breaths came jagged, shallow—each inhale scraping against her lungs, each exhale threatening to splinter apart.

Anger itched beneath her skin. The kind of anger that begged to be released, to find an outlet in broken glass or dented drywall. Her fist curled tight against her thigh, nails digging half-moons into her skin. But beneath the anger, beneath the frustration, was fear so raw it hollowed her out. Fear that left her small, exposed, like a child lost in the dark.

Her gaze dropped to her hands, the same hands that had held you countless times, that had memorised the curve of your spine, the delicate pulse at your wrist. They trembled now, restless and useless. If she can’t use them to hold you again, her brain whispered, what are they even for?

Ellie hunched forward, elbows digging into her knees. The clock on the wall ticked steadily, its hands slicing through each second with cruel indifference. Time stretched, then collapsed, then stretched again, leaving her in limbo.

She thought about the last thing she’d said to you. Had it been enough? Had it been stupid? She couldn’t even remember, and that terrified her more than anything. What if it hadn’t been I love you? What if her last words to you were something dumb, some offhand joke? She wanted to rewind, to take every moment she’d wasted and replace it with love, more love, endless love, until it spilled out of her like breath.

Her heart was a drumbeat now, pounding against her ribs with frantic urgency. Each thud a desperate chant: let me in, let me in, let me in.

But the doors stayed shut.

And Ellie—Ellie felt like she was breaking apart with every second they didn’t open.

THIRTEEN YEARS AGO…

“...and he doesn’t even look at me, Ellie!” you groaned, throwing your arms in the air so dramatically that your backpack nearly topped off the bench. Your voice was sharp, like a pencil freshly snapped in half, irritation bleeding through every syllable. 

“I mean, I sit right behind him in math, right there, basically breathing down his neck, and nothing. No smile. No, ‘hey, how’s it going?’ Not even a nod. Just—” you mimicked a robotic motion, hand snapping open and shut as though passing an invisible pencil. “Here. Thanks. That’s it. I’m like some… some ghost.”

Your pout was loud enough to echo. The playground roared around you—swings creaking, basketballs smacking against asphalt, the air buzzing with laughter and shrieks of tag. But Ellie sat there, knees drawn up to her chest, watching you like the whole world had narrowed into your voice.

She tried to keep her face unreadable. Tried to bury the storm clawing around her insides. But every word about Jesse was another stone thrown into her stomach, sinking deep. Her freckles seemed darker in the afternoon light, green eyes flicking nervously, like she was staring at something too bright to hold.

You went on, voice spilling fast, every sentence tangled with the next “I even dropped my eraser like five times on purpose yesterday. Five! And what does he do? Just picks it up, puts it on my desk, like—like it’s garbage. He didn’t even laugh! Didn’t even smirk! Who doesn’t laugh when someone makes a fool of themselves? That’s, like, comedy gold, Ellie.”

Ellie swallowed, throat dry. She wanted to say, I laugh at everything you do. She wanted to say, You don’t need Jesse when you have me. But the words tangled like barbed wire, impossible to push free.

Instead, she muttered, “Maybe he’s just… dumb.”

“Dumb?” you echoed, swinging around to glare at her, your brows raise high.

“Yeah,” Ellie said, shifting on the grass, voice gruff but unsure. She picked at the blades between her sneakers, shredding them into uneven pieces. “Like… maybe he doesn’t know what’s funny. Or what’s—what’s worth looking at.”

Your pout returned, heavier this time, tugging at the corners of your mouth. “That makes it worse. I don’t wanna like someone who’s dumb. But I can’t help it. He’s just—he’s Jesse.”

Ellie’s chest squeezed. Just Jesse. Like his name was enough to excuse everything. She hated the taste of it, hated how you said it with a sigh that sounded like a secret. 

And yet, when your shoulders slumped and your voice grew soft, Ellie felt her own chest ache with something protective, something she couldn’t ignore.

“...It makes me feel stupid,” you admitted, kicking at the dirt with the toe of your shoe. “Like maybe I’m not enough. If he doesn’t notice me, then what’s the point?”

Ellie froze, your words hitting her like cold water down her back. Not enough? You? The thought was impossible, blasphemous. She couldn’t hold it. Couldn’t let you hold it.

She scrambled, fumbling, searching the grass around her like it might give her an answer. And then she saw it—a small daisy, wilting at the edge of the bench leg. Its petals were bent, a couple already torn away by careless footsteps, the stem jagged where it had snapped. Imperfect. Forgotten.

Her chest burned with something sharp. She plucked it, hands awkward, as if she were committing a crime. And then, before she could think twice, she thrust it toward you.

“Uh… here.”

The word stumbled out of her, clumsy, like it hadn’t been ready to exist.

You blinked down at the flower in her palm, surprise cracking your stormy expression clean in half. It was a mess of a daisy—petals bent inward like folded wings, stem half its length. But Ellie’s hand shook as she held it out, and somehow that made it more.

You reached for it slowly, fingers brushing hers just long enough for Ellie to forget how to breathe. When you finally closed your hand around the little flower, your face softened, the corners of your lips curling into the faintest smile. Shy. Quiet. But real.

Your eyes lifted to hers, and for the first time all afternoon, your rant stilled. The playground around you blurred into white noise—just colour and laughter at the edges, unimportant, irrelevant. There was only the daisy between you, and the unspoken weight of what it meant.

“Thanks, Ellie,” you whispered, like it was a secret, like it was something you wanted to keep safe.

Ellie’s chest flipped. She shrugged, feigning casualness, though her ears flushed pink, betraying her. “It’s just a flower,” she muttered, eyes darting anywhere but yours. 

But inside, her heart was pounding so violently it felt like it might bruise her ribs, a drumbeat out of rhythm, saying only one thing: It’s not just a flower. It’s you. It’s always you.

And when you tucked the battered little daisy carefully into the pocket of your backpack, like it was true, Ellie felt something take root deep inside her—something she knew she’d never be able to weed out.

“...it’s just a flower,” Ellie had muttered back then.

And now—

“It’s not just waiting,” she spat, the words shredding her throat as they left, jagged and cracked.

The hospital air seemed to still around her, like the sound itself had torn through the aseptic fabric of the place. It was too bright in here, the fluorescents buzzing like hornets, casting everything in that washed-out, hollow light that made faces look colourless and skin look thin. The whole building smelled of disinfectant and despair, a cocktail that stuck to Ellie’s tongue and made her feel sick.

Her palms slapped against the counter, hard enough that her skin stung. She leaned forward, shoulders trembling, freckles stark against her pale, tight face. “You don’t get it,” she rasped, her voice rising like a storm tide. “I need to see her.”

The nurse—a woman with a tidy bun and a name tag Ellie hadn’t bothered to read—didn’t even flinch. Her face was porcelain smooth, unmoving, as if Ellie’s desperation was just another part of her night shift routine. “Miss Williams,” she said, calm but cutting, her tone so sharp it drew blood. “You need to remain calm. Please wait here until we can update you.”

Remain calm.

Wait here.

Ellie wanted to laugh. She wanted to smash her head against the wall until the word “wait” finally broke into pieces.

Her fists balled on the countertop, veins rising along the backs of her hands. “Update me? That’s all you’ve been saying! For what—ten minutes? Thirty? An hour? I don’t even know anymore ‘cause time’s gone weird in here. It’s bending, it’s stretching, it’s—” Her voice cracked, pitching higher, desperation leaking into anger. “And she’s in there. She’s in there without me. And I’m supposed to just sit out here like—like I’m some stranger?”

Her voice echoed too loud, too raw, bouncing off the sterile walls. A couple of heads turned in the waiting room, strangers pretending not to watch while their eyes crawled all over her, their pitying curiosity pressing into Ellie’s back like needles. She ignored them, or tried to, all of her focus pinned to the nurse who was barring her way with nothing more than practiced neutrality.

“She’s not just some patient to me,” Ellie pressed, her throat aching. “You don’t get it. You can’t just shut me out. She’s—” Her voice hitched, the word catching sharp as a shard of glass. She forced it through clenched teeth. “She’s everything.”

The nurse’s jaw tightened, but her voice didn’t shift. “Please lower your voice, Miss Williams. For her sake and yours.”

Ellie let out a sound that was half a laugh, half a snarl—ugly, sharp, hollow. “Lower my voice? Are you serious? I don’t give a shit if the whole building hears me. The only thing that matters right now is her. She’s in there, and you’ve locked me out. Do you understand what that feels like?” Her voice cracked again, higher this time, fragile. “No. You don’t. Because if you did, you wouldn’t be standing here feeding me the same lines on repeat like I’m supposed to just—just accept it.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs, each beat a fist punching from the inside, begging to get out. Her skin buzzed, hot and tight, her chest a cage too small for the storm building inside.

“Please,” Ellie said then, the word tumbling out of her before she could swallow it. Her voice dropped, softer but trembling, fraying at the edges. “Just let me see her. Just for a second. One second. She’ll know I’m here, and that’ll be enough. She needs me. And I—” She shut her eyes, jaw locking so hard it ached. “I need her.”

The nurse sighed, tired, the sound like a lock clicking into place. “Miss Williams, exceptions cannot be made. You need to sit down and wait like everyone else. That’s the only option right now.”

Wait. Always wait.

Ellie staggered back a step, chest heaving like she’d been punched. The air felt thin, strangling, as though the hospital itself was tightening its grip around her throat. She clenched her fists, nails biting half-moons into her palms until she felt the sting of breaking skin.

Her gaze flicked to the glass doors again. Closed. Unyielding. Behind them was you, and she wasn’t there. That thought burned hotter than anything she’d ever felt.

She pressed her hand to her mouth, teeth worrying the skin of her knuckle. The taste of iron bloomed again, sharp and coppery. She couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t think. Her body moved before her mind caught up, pacing across the waiting room like an animal in too-small a cage.

Plastic chairs squeaked under shifting strangers. Vending machines hummed in their corners, their displays glowing with false comfort. The clock on the wall ticked, steady and merciless, slicing through each second like it was nothing. But Ellie—Ellie felt every one. Each second without you was a stone in her pocket, dragging her deeper, deeper into the dark.

Her thoughts spun, crashing into each other. She thought of the last time she saw you before all this—what you were wearing, how your hand felt in hers, the way your laugh cracked through the air. She thought of all the things she should’ve said, the way she should’ve memorised more details, tucked away more moments. Her chest hurt with it, heavy and sharp, like shards of glass rattling around inside her.

Another nurse passed through the hallway, pushing a cart. Ellie lurched forward, heart stuttering. “Hey—hey, wait! Do you know what’s happening? Y/N L/N, she came in—she’s in that room, right? Can you tell me anything?”

The nurse gave her the same expression, the same softened dismissal. “Please wait until further notice, Miss Williams.”

The words rang like a hammer striking metal. Cold. Final.

Ellie slammed her palm against the wall, the sound reverberating down the hallway. “Goddamnit!” The curse tore out of her, raw and unpolished, ricocheting back at her like a slap.

She pressed her forehead to the wall, eyes screwed shut, breaths coming in jagged gulps. The plaster was cool against her skin, but it did nothing to quiet the inferno inside her. Her pulse rattled, chaotic, threatening to burst her apart.

She turned back toward the desk, eyes wild, green irises bright and fractured under the harsh lights. “Listen to me,” she said, low, nearly shaking, but steadier in its desperation. “If anything happens to her, and I wasn’t there—if I lose her without even getting to—” Her voice broke, falling into silence.

The nurse just looked at her with a practiced smile, pity-filled eyes boring into green. 

Ellie sagged back against the wall, defeated but still restless, vibrating with helpless energy. Her reflection in the glass doors mocked her: pale, hunched, haunted, eyes too wide, mouth too tight. She didn’t even recognise the person staring back.

And still, she couldn’t look away from those doors. Still, she waited, tethered to the thought of you like it was the only thread holding her upright. 

Because behind them, you were there.

And Ellie would wait until her skin peeled away and her bones turned to dust if it meant they would finally let her in.

9 YEARS AGO…

The tide licked higher against the shore, teasing the hem of your rolled-up jeans. You squeaked when the cold foam splashed up against your ankles, hopping back, and Ellie barked out a laugh so unguarded it startled even her.

“You sound like a seagull,” she teased, grinning wide, freckles scrunching across her nose.

You shoved her shoulder. “Shut up, you literally jumped like two feet earlier when it got you.”

“Yeah, but I did it with style,” Ellie shot back, puffing her chest out dramatically. She stuck one hand on her hip and gestured to the ocean like some conquering hero. “See, I’ve mastered the art of… uh, evasive maneuvers.”

“Evasive maneuvers?” you repeated, incredulous. “Ellie, you nearly face-planted into a sandcastle.”

Ellie groaned, dragging a hand down her face, though the corners of her mouth betrayed her. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

“Never,” you declared with mock solemnity. “I’ll literally tell this story at your wedding.”

That made her freeze for a fraction of a second. Her eyes flicked to you, green and uncertain, before she gave a weak scoff. “My wedding? And who exactly do you think’s dumb enough to marry me?”

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, too quick, too bold: “Maybe someone who really, really likes you.”

The moment cracked like a shell underfoot. Ellie blinked, caught off guard, her face colouring fast, and you immediately panicked, scrambling for cover. “Uh—I mean, you know, like… hypothetically. Some poor soul. Probably blind.”

Ellie’s laugh came out choked, awkward, but genuine. She bent down, scooping up a smooth flat stone and hurling it into the waves with unnecessary force. “Yeah, well… joke’s on you. I’d probably marry them back.”

You both dissolved into awkward laughter, the sound pitched too high, too shaky. But it warmed the air between you, softening the edges of the unsaid things.

A gull swooped low overhead, letting out a sharp cry, and you threw your arms out dramatically. “See? Even nature’s rooting for me.”

“Rooting for what, exactly?” Ellie asked, raising an eyebrow, smirk tugging at her lips.

“For me to win this argument, obviously.” You nudged her, leaving a wet print on her hoodie sleeve. “I’m like… objectively funnier than you.”

“Oh my god, you’re delusional,” Ellie said, feigning horror. “You’re like… punny at best.”

You gasped, clutching your chest in fake betrayal. “Punny? That’s low, Williams. I’ll have you know, I’ve got layers.”

“Like an onion,” Ellie deadpanned. 

“Exactly.” You grinned. “Delicious, complex, and probably gonna make you cry eventually.”

Ellie tilted her head at you, lips twitching like she wanted to laugh but was holding it back. “You already do, sometimes.”

The words slipped out so softly, you weren’t sure she meant for you to hear them. You blinked, stunned into silence, heat flooding your cheeks. She realised too late what she’d said, her face turning crimson as she stared hard at the sand. 

“I mean, like, when you rant about stuff,” she muttered, kicking at a pebble. “Not… not in a bad way. Just. You talk a lot.”

You smiled despite yourself, biting your lip to keep it from spilling too wide. The tide came up again, curling cool around your feet, and you let it, grounding yourself in the fizz and rush of it.

You bent down suddenly, scooping a handful of wet sand, and lobbed it playfully at her skin. “Oops.”

Ellie gasped, scandalised, looking at the damp smear on her leg. “You did not.”

“Oh, I did.”

She squatted low, fingers digging into the shore like she was arming herself. “You’ve just declared war.”

“Bite me,” you taunted, already backing away.

Her laugh rang out, bright and boyish, before she lunged forward and flung a clump of sand in your direction. It missed by a mile, crumbling mid-air, but she looked so proud of herself you couldn’t even tease her.

By the time you collapsed onto the sand together, breathless from laughter and dodging each other’s terrible aim, the sky had dimmed to a watercolour of pink and violet. The stars were just beginning to pierce through the horizon, faint but insistent.

The waves crawled in and out like a steady heartbeat, a rhythm older than both of you combined. The wind threaded its cool fingers through your hair, carrying the smell of salt and driftwood, while seagulls wheeled overhead in lazy arcs.

“You’re such a sore loser,” Ellie muttered, tipping her head back so her auburn hair fell across her brow. Her voice was breathless, but warm.

You snorted. “I didn’t lose, dumbass.”

Ellie tilted her face toward you, one brow raised, green eyes gleaming even in the dimming light. “You’re literally covered in more sand than the beach itself.”

“Yeah, well…” You dusted your jeans off, flinging specks of grit at her on purpose. “It’s called accessorising.”

Her laugh bubbled out again, softer this time, fading into a shy sort of smile. She sank her hands into the sand behind her, leaning back, shoulders brushing yours like it was an accident but also like she didn’t dare admit it wasn’t.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You both just listened—the hiss of the tide, the muffled shouts of your families in the distance, the lull of wind through seagrass. The world felt both impossibly big and shrunken down to just this patch of sand where you sat pressed side by side.

Ellie finally broke the quiet, her voice barely louder than the waves. “Y’know… I don’t really like the ocean.”

You turned to her, surprised. “You don’t?”

She shrugged, shoulders brushing yours again. “Too big. Too… I dunno. Unpredictable, I guess. Kinda freaks me out.”

“Then why’d you agree to this trip?”

Ellie’s mouth twitched into a lopsided smile. “Because you asked if I’d come.”

Your breath caught, snagging in your throat like a kite string in a tree. You covered the flutter in your chest with a quick grin. “So basically, you risked death by tidal wave just for me. Wow. You must be in love with me, Williams.”

“Shut up,” she mumbled, but the tips of her ears glowed red. She pulled her knees up, looping her arms around them, hiding her face in the crook of her elbow like that might disguise the softness beneath her sarcasm.

You leaned closer, resting your chin on your hands. “It’s okay, Ellie. You don’t have to admit you like me more than anything in the world and that I’m the best thing that ever happened to you, but actions speak louder than words.”

Ellie groaned into her sleeve, shaking her head. “You’re insufferable.”

“You love it,” you shot back, smirking.

And then she looked at you. Really looked—like she was trying to memorise the curve of your smile, the way your eyes crinkled at the corners, the easy light that followed you everywhere. For a second, her usual composure slipped, and you swore the whole ocean leaned in just to eavesdrop.

She bent down, fumbling in the sand, and came up with another shell. It was small, chipped at the edge, nothing special at all. Still, she pressed it into your palm like it was treasure.

“Don’t say I never give you anything,” she murmured, not quite meeting your gaze.

Your fingers curled around it, heartbeat stumbling, the broken edges biting gently into your skin like proof this moment was real. You smiled—small, shy, unguarded.

“Thanks,” you whispered. “I’ll keep it forever.”

And you meant it.

Ellie smirked, though her eyes softened. “Better not lose it. I’m not goin’ back in there to find another one.” She jabbed a finger toward the darkening water, its surface reflecting streaks of orange and pink.

“Why not? Afraid of seaweed wrapping around your ankles?”

You laughed so hard you nearly toppled sideways, clutching the shell like it was the punchline itself. “Seaweed? Dangerous? What’s it gonna do, Ellie, tickle you to death?”

“Exactly.” She nodded seriously, though the grin pulling at her lips betrayed her. “Death by seaweed. Real thing. Look it up.”

“Sure it is,” you teased. “Bet you think crabs are plotting against us too.”

“Not ‘plotting.’ Already plotting,” she corrected, poking your shoulder. “You ever seen how they move? Sideways. Like menaces.”

You couldn’t stop giggling, the warmth of it spilling into the air between you until even Ellie cracked, ducking her head with a sheepish smile she couldn’t quite hide. It wasn’t just laughter—it was something bigger, something tangled up in the way she looked at you when she thought you weren’t paying attention, the way your shoulder fit against hers like it belonged there.

Eventually, the laughter ebbed. The tide was higher now, waves licking closer to where you sat. The horizon had swallowed the last of the sun, leaving the sky bruised purple and streaked with fire.

Ellie dug her fingers into the sand, nervous habit, but didn’t move away from you. She leaned back again, head tipped toward the stars just beginning to freckle the dark. “Kinda nice though,” she admitted softly.

You glanced at her, tilting your head. “What is?”

“This.” She gestured vaguely—to the beach, the waves, the distance from everyone else, but mostly to the space between you that had grown smaller and smaller all day. “Being here. With you.”

Your heart stuttered and you bit your lip to hide the smile threatening to spill out. “Careful, Williams. You keep talking like that and I might actually start to believe you like me.”

Ellie groaned again, burying her face in her hands this time. “You’re impossible.”

TWO MONTHS LATER, JUNIOR YEAR…

Your pencil had been moving like it had a life of its own, every stroke and curve pulled from memory more than imagination. The page was a living altar to Ellie—every feature etched so carefully you might as well have carved it from your ribs. Her freckles were constellations you’d memorised from afternoons sprawled in the grass together, her jawline a cliff your eyes always got caught on, hair shaded and messy in your drawing like you’d seen it tumble after she ran a hand through it one too many times. The lamp on your desk made halos out of the graphite smudges, turning the page into something holy and secret.

The world was silent but for the faint hum of electricity and the slow scratching of your pencil, until—

Tap.

It was soft, but enough to snag your pulse and drag it out of rhythm.

You froze, pencil tip still pressed to paper, dotting the margin where it didn’t belong. The sound didn’t belong either—out of place, alien in the cocoon of your room. You lifted your head, eyes darting toward the window. The curtain stirred faintly with the night air, like a hand beckoning.

You told yourself it was nothing. The old tree outside always knocked against the siding. Houses creaked. Pipes groaned. Logic wrapped around your shoulders like a thin blanket—but then it happened again.

Tap.

A bead of cold worry rolled down your spine. You set the pencil down slowly, as though sudden movement might give you away. The sketchbook stayed open, Ellie’s drawn face watching you, accusatory in its detail. You rose, each step across the carpet whisper-soft, the kind you made when you were sneaking around past curfew. The closer you got, the louder your heartbeat became, like it was trying to break the silence wide open.

You hooked a finger around the curtain and pulled it aside.

The night rushed in, cool and damp, brushing goosebumps across your arms. Outside, the yard was quiet and hushed, painted in silver by the pale sweep of the moon. You leaned forward, squinting into the dark—nothing. No one. Just the shadow of the old tree stretching long across the grass like a hand reaching for your window.

Then—

Whiz!

A blur cut through the air. You jerked back just as something clinked sharply against your desk, ricocheting onto your sketchbook. A pebble skittered across Ellie’s drawn cheek, leaving a faint trail of dust before rolling to a stop in the crease of the paper.

“Sorry!”

Your whole body snapped to the sound. That voice. You’d know it if the world were ending and it was the last thing you heard. 

Heart lodged somewhere in your throat, you leaned out of the window. And there she was. 

Ellie.

Standing on your lawn like some cinematic fever dream, half-awkward, half-goddamn breathtaking. The old streetlight by the curb threw a weak, golden halo over her auburn hair, catching on the tips so it looked like fire in the dark. She was all sharp lines softened by the night—plaid flannel hanging loose, the fabric threadbare from too many washes, a band tee peeking through with cracked lettering. Jeans torn open at the knees, Converse scuffed to hell, laces frayed like they’d fought in a war. Her freckles—visible even from here—dusted across her face like the universe had leaned down and kissed her skin.

She was looking up at you, caught red-handed with a sheepish grin, as if she hadn’t just weaponised gravel at your window. “Didn’t mean to almost kill you, I swear!” she called, voice pitching nervously.

Your breath hitched. Not because of the pebble. Because it was Ellie. Because she was standing down there like some chaotic Romeo with worse aim.

“Ellie,” you hissed, glancing instinctively over your shoulder like your parents might burst in at any second. Your voice was equal parts panic and laughter, your mouth unable to decide which one it wanted to commit to. “Did you seriously just throw rocks at my window like some kinda… I don’t know… Goodwill Romeo?”

A grin burst out across her face, teeth catching on her lower lip like she was trying not to laugh. She shoved her messy hair out of her face, her sleeve sliding halfway up her arm. “Goodwill? Ouch. I’ll have you know I’m, like, at least Target Romeo.”

You snorted, glancing nervously over your shoulder again. Your mom’s voice murmured faintly somewhere down the hall, the sound of the TV low and steady. You whipped your gaze back to Ellie, lowering your voice even more. “You’re gonna get me killed if my parents catch you here.”

Ellie only shrugged, the movement casual but her green eyes sharp, glinting with that restless energy she carried like a second skin. “Worth it.”

The words made your heart flip so violently you thought it might lurch out of your mouth. You tried to play it off with a scoff, elbow braced against the window frame. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe.” Her smirk softened into something else, something dangerously tender, and she tilted her head up at you. “But you’re still talking to me, aren’t you?”

You felt the heat rising to your cheeks, desperate to steer the moment anywhere else before you melted into a puddle of teenage crush at your windowsill. “You know you almost hit me in the face with that rock right? Like, if I end up with a black eye, that’s on you.”

Ellie barked out a laugh, trying to muffle it with her sleeve. “Then I’d say you got into a fight, and you should see the other guy.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, but couldn’t keep the smile from tugging at your lips. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably charming,” she countered, grinning like she knew exactly what she was doing to you. She kicked at the grass with the toe of her Converse, the gesture suddenly shy. She shoved her hands into her pockets, rocking back on her heels, the picture of nonchalance ruined only by the pink blooming across her ears. Then, in a quieter voice, she asked, “So… you gonna come down here, or I gotta throw more rocks at your face?”

Her tone was joking, but there was a flicker of something underneath—something hopeful, almost nervous. 

Your smile broke free before you could stop it, tugging at your lips until your cheeks hurt.

She was ridiculous. But God, was she perfect.

“C’mon,” she whispered again, half a plea, half a challenge, her words floating up like fireflies. “It’s not like your parents are standing guard at the door. You’re quiet as a ghost when you wanna be.”

You leaned against the sill, knuckles whitening on the paint-chipped wood. Your laugh came out sharp, too loud for your own comfort, and you slapped a hand over your mouth like you could shove it back down your throat. “Ellie, if they catch me sneaking out? You can go ahead and start digging my grave yourself. And bring flowers. Nice ones. Daisies, maybe.”

Her reply was quick, smug, like she had already decided your fate: “Then don’t get caught.” She lifted her arms out wide as if to show you how simple the solution was, like the whole night bent to her will.

The nerve.

You wanted to keep your face stern, to carve your resistance into stone, but the corners of your lips betrayed you, twitching upward. It was always like this with her—Ellie had a way of turning your fear into comedy, of painting the whole world in brighter colours until saying no felt like shutting the blinds on sunlight.

And yet, your body whispered reminders you couldn’t drown out. The faint throb in your legs from nothing more than pacing earlier. The slight heaviness in your chest that never fully left, like your own ribs were conspiring against you. It wasn’t visible. It wasn’t something Ellie could ever guess. But it was there, the ghost of a chain dragging behind you no matter how hard you pretended otherwise.

Ellie tilted her head back, green eyes catching the weak glow of the porch light, shimmering like they were forged from glass. “Hey,” she called, softer now, almost reverent. “You’ll regret it if you stay in there. The night’s too perfect to waste on… homework or whatever you’re pretending to do.”

The words hit you square in the chest, unravelling you. 

You looked over your shoulder at your room, at the desk where your sketchbook still lay open, the pages cradling Ellies that didn’t know you were watching them. Every line was memorised, every freckle etched into graphite, and the quiet walls suddenly felt like they were mocking you, suffocating you with the weight of your own carefulness.

The window, though—it breathed. And Ellie breathed with it.

“Goddammit,” you hissed under your breath, dragging your hand down your face. The surrender tasted bitter and sweet all at once. “Fine.”

Ellie straightened below, practically glowing, her smile spreading across her face like ink spilling over a page.

“But if this ends with me grounded until I’m old and grey,” you continued, stabbing a finger at her from the window, “I am haunting you. Like, forever. You’ll never get rid of me.”

Ellie didn’t even try to tone it down—she laughed, wild and delighted, throwing her head back so her voice rippled across the lawn. “Deal. Totally worth it.” 

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was a drumline now, so loud it made your whole body hum.

“Go,” you ordered, pointing toward the shed. “There’s a ladder. Get it before I change my mind.”

Ellie gave you a lopsided salute, cocky as ever, before jogging across the yard. Her flannel flapped behind her like a ragged cape, her converse kicking up little bursts of grass and dirt. She looked untamed, electric, like the night itself hard grown legs and decided to run. 

You stayed leaning out the window, fingers gripping the sill, eyes following her even when you told yourself not to. The stillness of your room pressed in around you again, but now it felt temporary, like the moment before a spark caught.

For just a second, the weight in your chest returned. Your bones hummed with secret truth. But you pressed it down, stuffed it into the quiet corners of your mind, and whispered to yourself, “Live once.”

You turned, padding across the soft carpet toward your closet, the night air trailing in through the window, tugging at you like a promise.

Your shoes waited by the door, almost smug, like they’d been expecting this all along.

“Where are we going?” you finally broke the silence, your voice curling out like smoke, thin and restless. The night pressed in on both sides of you, a velvet-dark curtain stitched with stars, and you couldn’t help but tug your jacket tighter against the cool air.

Ellie didn’t answer right away. She was walking beside you with her hands jammed into the pockets of her flannel, her head ducked just enough that a loose strand of hair kept brushing her cheek. There was a smirk hidden there, though—you could feel it even if she didn’t turn to show you. A smirk that said she’d been waiting for you to ask, savouring it like a sweet she didn’t want to bite into too quickly.

“It’s a surprise,” she finally said, her tone light but dipped in mischief.

You groaned, tilting your head back toward the stars as if maybe they’d betray her secret. “Ellie. The last time you said that, we ended up at some guy’s abandoned shed in the woods, and there were, like, forty spiders the size of my face.”

She huffed a laugh through her nose, not even trying to deny it. “Yeah, but you survived. Stronger for it.”

“Stronger? Ellie, I almost cried.”

“You did cry.”

You shoved her shoulder lightly, but she just stumbled half a step and bounced back like she’d been expecting it. The smile finally slipped onto her face, crooked and shy, the kind that always made something flutter and ache in your chest.

The further you walked, the more the road changed beneath your sneakers. Gravel gave way to dirt, the crunch softening into a muted thud. The houses had fallen away behind you, swallowed by the dark, and now the world seemed stripped bare—just the night, the two of you, and the endless chorus of crickets thrumming in the fields.

Your chest began to hum with a quiet, steady ache. Not bad, not sharp—just that familiar weight. The way your body sometimes decided to make even simple things feel heavier. You adjusted your breathing, tried to even it out before Ellie noticed. But she never walked too fast, never let her strides leave you behind. She kept to your pace like she was tethered there, as if she didn’t even think about it.

Then, suddenly, she veered off the dirt path, slipping between tall weeds that brushed at her jeans. You hesitated only a second before following, the stalks hissing against your legs. And then—

The world opened up.

The field stretched wide and endless, a sea of daisies that swayed in the night air. Their white petals glimmered under the moonlight, thousands of tiny faces turned toward the sky, like a whole galaxy had fallen from above and decided to root itself into the earth. The breeze carried the faint, sweet-green scent of them, mixed with the salt of Ellie’s skin and the faint detergent on her flannel.

You stopped short, your mouth parting but no words tumbling out. The sight of it was too much, too sudden, as if you’d stumbled into a painting you had no right to touch.

“Ellie…” Her name came out like a secret.

She tilted her chin toward the distance, where the field dipped beneath the shadow of a willow tree. “Not done yet.”

And then you saw it. 

Under the willow’s heavy branches, drooping like a curtain of green silk, was something small, out of place. A picnic blanket, spread across the grass, its stripes muted but soft, the corners curling like it had been shoved into a closet and rescued just for tonight. Beside it, a basket waited with its lid tipped open, the woven edges catching the faint glow of the moon. And in the center of it all, a fake LED candle flickered. Its flame was plastic, its glow uneven but somehow it threw a golden warmth over the little setup that felt more real than fire.

Your breath caught, trapped in your throat.

The scene was clumsy, imperfect—the candle sat crooked, the blanket slightly lopsided—but it was so Ellie that your heart nearly caved in on itself. She had thought of this. She had walked you all this way for this.

You turned to her, trying to speak, but the words pressed against your teeth like a tide refusing to break. She was watching you already, her smirk stretched thin into something smaller, almost nervous. A silent question glimmered in her eyes: Did I do good?

“Well?” Ellie asked, forcing her voice into calm, though you could hear the waver in it if you listened closely. “Worth sneaking out for?”

The daisies seemed to lean toward you, as if they too were waiting on your answer. Even the willow bent lower, like it had been listening all along.

Your chest ached, your heart beating out a rhythm so heavy it was nearly a drum against your ribs. And then, because it was the only thing you could manage without falling apart, you laughed—soft, breathless, fragile around the edges.

“Ellie… it’s—” You shook your head, swallowing the knot in your throat. “It’s perfect.”

Her lips twitched, threatening another smirk, but it was her ears that betrayed her, glowing pink even under the moonlight. “Let’s go, then.”

The willow’s branches hung low, swaying with the weight of the night breeze as you and Ellie stepped into its shadow. The ground softened underfoot, the grass cool and damp, and the blanket spread out before you looked like some kind of sacred offering—clumsy, crooked, yet brimming with intent.

Ellie motioned toward it with a flourish of her hand, like some awkward maître d’. “Your table, madam.”

You snorted but couldn’t keep the grin from breaking across your face. “Wow, five-star service. Where’s my wine list?”

Ellie smirked as she sank down cross-legged onto the blanket, pulling the basket between her knees. “Sorry, all out of wine. But…” Her hand disappeared into the basket with a magician’s flair before reemerging with two brightly coloured plastic trays. She held them up like treasure. “I do have Lunchables.”

You blinked. Then burst into laughter. “Ellie Williams, you dragged me across a field in the dead of night for… Lunchables?”

“Not just any Lunchables.” She shook the tray like a salesman peddling gold watches from the lining of his coat. “Pizza ones. With the tiny crusts. Deluxe dining at its finest.”

You doubled over, giggles spilling out of you like coins from a broken jar. “Oh my god, you’re insane.”

Ellie’s grin widened, a flash of crooked teeth in the faint glow of the LED candle. “Insanely romantic, you mean.”

Your heart tripped over itself at the word, but you disguised it with a playful shove to her shoulder as you plopped down beside her. “Yeah, ‘cause nothing says “I care about you” like cold tomato sauce and cheese bits.”

She tore open the plastic seal with her teeth, the sound sharp in the night, and shoved one of the little crusts into your hand. “Bon appétit, princess.”

You stared at the pitiful offering—the circle of cardboard-like dough, the packet of pasty sauce, the cheese shreds clumping together in defiance of gravity. “This is the saddest thing I’ve ever seen,” you said, but your lips betrayed you, tugging upward in a smile so fond it ached.

“Yeah, well,” Ellie muttered, tearing open the sauce packet with way more concentration than necessary. “I worked really hard on this meal, so maybe don’t insult the chef.” 

You snorted. “The chef being Oscar Mayer?”

Ellie flicked a shred of cheese at you in retaliation. It clung to your shirt before sliding into your lap, and you laughed so hard your stomach cramped. The sound rolled into the night, and Ellie’s followed right after—lower, quieter, but just as uncontrollable.

When the laughter died down, the silence that followed wasn’t empty but full—thick with crickets singing, willow leaves whispering secrets overhead, the soft hum of the world holding its breath.

Ellie leaned back on her hands, her knees bent, the candlelight gilding her freckles until they looked like cinnamon scattered across pale skin. You caught yourself staring—memorising the sharp curve of her jaw, the way the strands of auburn caught the faint glow like copper threads.

To break the tension, she plucked a daisy from the grass, its stem flimsy and half-bent, and twirled it between her fingers before holding out to you. “Souvenir,” she said, quieter now, almost shy.

The flower was imperfect—the petals bruised, stem jagged—but in her palm it looked sacred. You reached out, fingers brushing hers in the exchange, and for a moment the air itself seemed to pause, watching, waiting. 

You tucked the daisy into your lap, cradling it like glass, before whispering, “Thanks, El.”

And though she didn’t answer right away, when you lifted your gaze, her eyes were already on you—steady, green, and unbearably tender, as if she had carved your face into her memory long before you ever thought to sketch hers.

The quiet between you stretched—not awkward, but weighted, as if the night itself was thick with things unsaid. The air was cool against your cheeks, the kind of cool that made you want to draw closer to warmth, and Ellie radiated it in soft, invisible waves.

Finally, she flopped backward onto the blanket, her hands folding beneath her head, her body sinking into the grass beneath the fabric. “Okay,” she said, her voice rough, like gravel smoothed by water. “I think I deserve a break. Chef’s work is exhausting.”

You snorted, still fiddling with the daisy. “Slapping cold cheese on cardboard isn’t exactly Michelin star level, El.”

Her laugh cracked open the night, easy and genuine, before she tipped her head toward you. “Lay down with me. The stars are actually kinda insane tonight.”

You hesitated—just for a second, because your heart was already racing, because being that close felt dangerous—but then you let yourself fall back beside her. The blanket rustled, grass pressed against your arms, and above you sprawled the sky, endless and stitched with silver.

The stars blinked like secrets too heavy for the dark to hold, scattered and infinite, and for a long moment you let yourself get lost in them. Next to you, Ellie shifted, her shoulder brushing yours. You swallowed, grounding yourself in the sound of her breath, steady but uneven, like she was thinking too much too.

“Do you ever…” Ellie’s voice trailed off before finding itself again. “Do you ever think about how small we are? Like—” She lifted a hand toward the sky, pointing vaguely. “That star right there? Probably already dead. But we’re still looking at it.”

You tilted your head toward her, catching the silhouette of her profile against the sky—the stubborn curve of her nose, the little furrow between her brows when she was concentrating. “That’s… depressing.”

She chuckled, soft. “Nah. I think it’s kinda nice. Like, even if something’s gone, it still… sticks around a little. Makes things brighter, y’know?” 

Something lodged in your throat at that, and you almost said her name, but instead you whispered, “Yeah. I get that.”

For a while, you just lay there, shoulders brushing, silence folding over you like a blanket. The daisy rested against your chest now, its crooked petals pressing into your skin, as if reminding you of something—of her, always of her.

Ellie broke the silence again, quieter this time, like a secret only the two of you could hear. “Tell me something no one else knows.”

Your pulse tripped. You stared up at the stars, their glow smudged by the corners of your vision. “Like what?”

“Anything. Doesn’t matter. Just… something that’s yours.”

You chewed your lip, debating. The words sat heavy at the back of your tongue—you wanted to tell her everything, every single thing you’d ever hidden in the quiet corners of your chest. But you settled for something smaller, safer. “Okay. Um… sometimes I draw. Like in class. Or in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep.”

Ellie turned her head toward you, eyes glinting even in the dark. “What do you draw?” 

You hesitated. Heat licked at your ears. “Just… things I don’t wanna forget.”

A smile tugged at her mouth, crooked and knowing, though she didn’t press. She rolled back onto her back, pointing toward the stars again. “Okay. My turn. I, uh—” Her voice cracked, and she had to swallow before going on. “I used to sneak my mom’s records out when she wasn’t looking. Sat on the floor with headphones too big for my head, and just… listened. Like the songs were talking to me or something.”

Your chest ached. “That’s not embarrassing.”

“Didn’t say it was,” she muttered. “Just said it’s something I’ve never told anyone.” 

The stars burned above you, indifferent witnesses to every confession, every almost-confession. The air between you thickened again, charged with something you couldn’t name without it spilling over and drowning you.

Ellie shifted, propping herself up on one elbow. She looked down at you, hair falling into her face, eyes sharp and uncertain and soft all at once. The candlelight flickered between you, brushing gold across your faces. 

Your breath caught. The daisy pressed harder into your chest, almost like it was urging you forward, whispering that maybe the world wouldn’t end if you said what you wanted to say.

Ellie’s lips parted and for a moment she looked like every thought she’d ever hidden was pushing up and out, breaking through the cracks in her chest. The air between you was so dense it felt alive, like it might wrap around your throat if neither of you said anything soon. 

“I—” she started, voice low, almost drowned out by the cicadas in the grass. She faltered, her jaw working, then she tried again. “I’m not good at this. Talking. About feelings and all that.”

You blinked at her, heart hammering so hard it felt like it might bruise your ribs. “Ellie…”

Her eyes flicked away, back to the stars, like maybe the words would be easier to find up there. Her hand dragged nervously over the blanket, inching closer to yours without quite touching. It’s just— every time I’m around you, it’s like I forget how to be a person. Like I say the wrong thing, or I can’t keep looking, or I… I just don’t feel like myself, except I do, but more. Better. You make me better.”

Her voice cracked on that last word, and she ducked her head, cursing under her breath. “God, that sounded stupid.”

But it didn’t sound stupid. It sounded like your heart splitting clean down the middle, spilling warmth into every corner of you. You pushed yourself up onto one elbow, mirroring her posture, your face inches from hers now.

“It’s not stupid,” you whispered. The daisy slipped from your chest, forgotten between you. “It’s not stupid at all.”

Ellie finally looked at you, really looked, her eyes glassy with something too big for her to swallow down. “I think about you all the time. Even when I don’t wanna. Even when I tell myself to stop. And I—” Her voice dipped, breaking, her shoulders tight as if bracing for impact. “I like you. I have liked you, for a while now. More than friends, way more. And if that screws everything up, I’ll deal with it, but I can’t—”

You didn’t let her finish. The words were already ringing in your ears, ricocheting through your chest, burning like fireworks under your skin. Before you could second-guess yourself, before you could think of your parents or your condition or all the reasons it was a bad idea, you leaned forward and closed the space between you.

The kiss was clumsy, desperate—her nose bumped yours, your teeth grazed—but none of it mattered, because her lips were warm and trembling against yours, because it felt like the world had tilted into place after years of being crooked.

Ellie froze for half a second, then melted into you, her hand finding the side of your face, her thumb trembling against your cheekbone. You could taste her breath, shaky and sharp, like she couldn’t believe this was happening either. 

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, foreheads pressed together, hearts beating loud enough to drown out the night. 

Ellie laughed—nervous, incredulous, soft. “Holy shit. You actually—” 

You cut her off again, whispering against her lips. “I like you too, El. I’ve liked you forever.”

You both stayed there, breathing each other in, as though even a centimeter of space might undo the fragile thread you’d just tied between your hearts. 

Ellie was the first to break the silence—though calling it breaking didn’t feel right. It was more like her words trickled out, soft and careful, as if afraid of shattering something glass-thin.

“So… that just happened,” she whispered, her lips brushing yours with every syllable. 

You laughed, quiet but bright, like it bubbled up from a place inside you that had been locked shut for years. “Yeah. It did.”

She leaned back just enough to look at you, her eyes wide and still sparkling with disbelief. “You’re not— messing with me, right?”

“Ellie.” You tilted your head, giving her the kind of look that said how could you not know by now? “I wouldn’t kiss you if I didn’t mean it.”

Her mouth twisted like she was trying to hide a smile and failing miserably. “Good. ‘Cause I don’t think I’d survive it if you were joking.”

You laughed again, softer this time, and let yourself fall back onto the blanket, staring up at the stars to steady the dizzy warmth spinning inside you. Ellie followed a second later, her shoulder brushing yours, like even now she couldn’t bear to be more than a breath away. 

For a while, you just lay there. The willow’s branches swayed above like a curtain drawn to shield you from the rest of the world. The night hummed around you, your heartbeats syncing like two songs blending into one.

Ellie exhaled, her voice low, almost like she was confessing to the sky instead of you. “I’ve wanted to do that for… God, forever. Since middle school, probably. When you wouldn’t shut up about Jesse.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Don’t bring that up right now.”

She laughed, and the sound was so free, so light, you felt it settle into your bones. “You have no idea how much I hated hearing you talk about him. Thought I was gonna puke every time you said his name.”

“Yeah, well,” you peeked at her between your fingers, cheeks burning, “you were the one giving me daisies when I cried about it.”

Her smile faltered into something gentler, something that made your chest ache. “I remember that.”

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t awkward this time—it was heavy with everything you’d both carried for years, finally set down between you. 

Ellie reached out, fingers hovering above your hand, hesitant as if asking permission. You turned your palm up, letting her settle into it. Her grip was warm, a little shaky, but it anchored you more firmly than anything else ever had.

“You’re stuck with me now,” she said, and though she tried to sound casual, her voice cracked at the edges.

“Good,” you murmured, squeezing her hand tight. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

And so the two of you stayed there—beneath the willow, wrapped in the scent of daisies and the glow of a fake candle, holding onto each other like the night was infinite, like dawn could never touch what you’d just found.

The walk home had started off fine—easy, even. The gravel road whispered under your sneaks, and the fields on either side breathed with the sway of tall grass and wildflowers nodding under the weight of the night air. Above, stars glittered like they’d been pinned into place by some careful hand, each one sharp and cold against the velvet sky. It was the kind of night that wanted to be slow, that wanted to stretch itself out forever.

But your body had other plans.

At first, it was subtle. A drag in your step, a heaviness in your calves that you pretended not to notice. But with each passing minute, the weight grew, pressing down until every stride felt like wading through syrup. The air thickened in your lungs, each breath rasping like it was scraping against the inside of your chest. And then it hit—one cough, then another, then a fit that shook your shoulder and bent you forward like a sapling in the wind.

“Whoa—hey, hey.” Ellie’s voice cut through the night, sharp and panicked, the sound of gravel crunching fast as she spun around. She hovered in front of you, frantic, her hands fluttering in the space between you, unsure whether to touch your arm, your shoulder, your back. “What the hell? You okay? What’s happening?”

You forced yourself upright, swallowing the coughs down until they faded into ragged inhales. Your hand lifted in a weak wave, dismissing her concern. “I’m fine,” you croaked, your voice thin, fraying at the edges. “Just… tired. That’s all.”

Ellie stared at you, her eyes narrowing, worry carved into the lines of her brow. The moonlight silvered her freckles, made them look like constellations scattered across her skin. “That wasn’t just tired,” she said flatly.

You tried for a smile, though it felt flimsy on your face. “Well, it was. Don’t overthink it.”

She didn’t move, didn’t blink. For a moment, the air between you tightened like it might snap. Then, with a reluctant exhale, she backed down, though the suspicion didn’t leave her gaze. “Fine,” she muttered, “but if you keel over right here, I’m dragging your ghost’s ass back to your parents’ porch.”

You laughed—soft, shaky, but genuine, “Good to know you care.”

She rolled her eyes, but her shoulders unknotted just slightly. And then, without warning, she turned her back to you and crouched down a little, her hands braced on her knees. “Alright. Get on.”

Your brows shot up. “What?”

“You heard me,” she tilted her head back to glance at you. “Hop on, I’ll carry you.”

“Ellie,” you groaned, dragging her name out like it had grown five syllables. “I’m not five. I don’t need a piggyback ride.”

“Yes, you do,” she said matter-of-factly, her tone teetering between exasperation and amusement. “You’re practically crawling back there.”

“I am not—” you started, only to stumble a little when your foot caught a loose stone. Ellie’s eyes shot to you instantly, and you knew you’d just lost half your argument.

She smirked, cocky. “See? Barely functioning.”

You threw your hands up. “I’m functioning fine!”

“Sure, princess,” she teased, turning her gaze forward again. “C’mon. This way, you get a free ride and I get to flex. Win-win.”

You narrowed your eyes at her back. “What muscles are you even planning on flexing? The noodle ones?”

She gasped, loud and theatrical, one hand slapping to her chest like you’d just stabbed her. “How dare you. How dare you. I’ll have you know these are prime-grade, top-shelf carrying arms.” She bent her elbow and tried to flex through the flannel, though the effect was most just… sleeve.

Despite yourself, a laugh bubbled out of you, easing some of the ache in your chest. “Yeah, okay, Popeye.”

“Thank you,” she said without a shred of irony, as if you’d just complimented her.

But then your legs wobbled again, just slightly, your balance faltering in a way you couldn’t disguise. The humor on her face softened instantly, melting into something gentler, steadier. She didn’t joke this time—didn’t tease or roll her eyes. She just looked at you, her voice dropping low.

“Please,” she said, and the word landed heavy in the quiet. “Just let me do this for you.”

The sincerity in her tone left you breathless in a way the coughing hadn’t. You hesitated, pride gnawing at your resolve, but the look in her eyes—the kind that saw through every flimsy excuse—made it impossible to refuse.

With a sigh, you muttered, “Fine. But if you drop me, I’m haunting you forever.”

Ellie grinned like she’d just won a war, crouching lower so you could climb on. “Deal.”

Carefully, you wrapped your arms around her shoulders, pressing your cheek against the familiar flannel at her collar. Her warmth radiated through the fabric, grounding you. Ellie hooked her hands under your thighs, then stood in one smooth lift, your feet leaving the earth. You let out a startled laugh as the night tilted around you.

“See?” she puffed, shifting you higher against her back. “Told you. Prime carrying material.”

You rolled your eyes, but your arms tightened, your body fitting into the curve of hers like it had always belonged there. The gravel whispered under her boots as she started forward, steady and sure, the rhythm of her strides syncing with the beat of your pulse.

“You’re sweating already,” you teased, your lips brushing close to her ear.

She scoffed, breathless. “Please. You’re light as a feather. I could do this all the way to Jackson if I had to.”

“Sure you could,” you said, the words slurring a little with the drowsy comfort of her warmth, of being carried.

 And then the world quieted around you. The night sounds dulled—the chirp of crickets, the distant rush of wind through trees—until all you could really hear was the crunch of Ellie’s boots on gravel and the steady thump of her heartbeat, solid beneath your chest. Every so often she’d shift her grip, her fingers brushing against the bare skin above your knee, and each touch left trails of heat that no cool night breeze could erase.

For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel the heaviness dragging you down. You didn’t feel tired or weak. You just felt safe, wrapped up in the strength of someone who had no idea how much she already carried of you—your laughter, your secrets, your heart.

And you let yourself sink into that, just for tonight.

PROM NIGHT, SENIOR YEAR…

The world had flipped on its head since that night. Somewhere between stolen secrets and star-gazing confessions, the quiet tension had cracked, and you and Ellie had stepped into something bigger—something real. By senior year, no one batted an eye at how your hands found each other’s in the hallway, or how she kissed your temple like it was the most natural thing in the world. You weren’t a rumor anymore—you were Ellie-and-you. A package deal.

Prom night was supposed to be the pinnacle of all that: glittering lights, bad punch, the soundtrack of your youth blaring through cheap speakers in the gym. And for about thirty minutes, you both played along—posing for photos, spinning once or twice under the paper streamers, sipping neon soda out of plastic cups. But the novelty faded fast.

Which is how you ended up here: parked in the farthest corner of a half-lit lot, Ellie’s beat-up car wrapped in the hum of the night. Her tie was crooked, her jacket ditched in the backseat. You had your heels kicked off on the dashboard, your dress bunched around your knees.

Between you rested a silver flask—definitely not approved by the PTA—that she’d swiped from Joel’s stash. The liquid inside was sharp, bitter enough to make you cough, but it warmed your throat in a way that made the laughter come easier, looser.

“Okay,” Ellie wheezed between bursts of laughter, her forehead pressed against the steering wheel, shoulders shaking. “Greg. Greg Martin. Breakdancing.” She lifted her head just long enough to fling her arms around in chaotic angles, mimicking his attempt. “He looked like a… like a chicken trying to escape the fryer.”

You clutched your stomach, tears spilling down your cheeks. “No—oh my god, he looked like... Like he started glitching mid-air.”

Ellie smacked the steering wheel again, the horn letting out a weak hiccup that startled you both into even more laughter. She shoved the flask at you, her grin so wide it practically split her face in two.

Your dress, which had once seemed glamorous, was now bunched ungracefully around your thighs, its sequins catching the dim light like broken shards of a disco ball. You tipped your head back and took a sip, grimacing, then wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. “God, how does Joel drink this crap? It tastes like paint thinner.”

Ellie stretched out in the driver’s seat, one arm draped over the backrest behind you. “Joel doesn’t drink this to enjoy it. He drinks it to—y’know—forget the fact that life’s just a long, slow march toward death.” She said it in a mock-grim voice, then winked at you when you giggled.

“Wow. So cheerful. That’s really what I needed on prom night,” you teased, nudging her leg with your bare foot on the console.

Ellie grabbed your ankle lightly and squeezed, pretending to glare. “Don’t sass me, L/N. I literally ditched free shrimp cocktail for you.”

“Shrimp cocktail?” you echoed, wrinkling your nose. “You call those sad little frozen things shrimp? Those were like… sea bugs on toothpicks.”

Ellie barked out another laugh, shaking her head. “Fair. Still, I expect gratitude. You’re sitting here with the most eligible prom date in Wyoming.”

“Oh, really?” you said, feigning surprise, though your smile betrayed you. “Because last I checked, you spent most of prom standing by the punch table, glaring at anyone who looked at me.”

Ellie shrugged, unbothered, but the tips of her ears betrayed her with their pink flush. “What can I say? I’m territorial.” She said it half as a joke, half as something heavier, something real, and for a moment the car grew quieter around you.

The only sounds were the chirp of crickets outside, the hum of the car’s old heater, and the faint thump of bass still leaking from the gym. The kind of quiet that stretched, pulled tight like a string, begging to be plucked.

When you turned your head, Ellie was already watching you. The dashboard light carved shadows across her jaw, lit the flecks of green in her eyes. She was all undone tuxedo and crooked grin, but to you, she might as well have been carved out of marble, the kind of beautiful that was almost unfair.

“You’re staring,” she murmured, her grin twitching wider, though her voice had softened.

“Am not,” you shot back automatically, though it came out too fast, too defensive.

“Are too,” she said, sing-song, tapping your ankle again. “But it’s okay. I’d stare at me too.”

You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” Ellie said, leaning just an inch closer, her voice slipping into that low rasp that always did you in, “you’re still here.”

The warmth of her words hung in the air like smoke, and you had to look away before it set your entire chest on fire. You took a sip from the flask to compose yourself.

Ellie reached over and snatched the flask from your hands with exaggerated speed, like you couldn’t be trusted. “Alright, lightweight,” she said, taking a swig and then coughing violently into her sleeve. “Jesus Christ—okay, this is paint thinner.”

You burst out laughing, doubling over in the passenger seat. “Oh my god, you almost died! That would’ve been a fun headline: ‘Prom Queen kills date with contraband whiskey.’”

Ellie shot you a mock glare, eyes watering as she thumped her chest. “First of all, you’re not even prom queen. You got snubbed.”

“I wasn’t even running,” you protested, wiping at the corners of your eyes, still laughing.

“Exactly,” Ellie said, wagging a finger at you. “That’s why it was the biggest scandal of the night. You didn’t run, but you could have won. Everyone knows it.”

You gave her your most dramatic eye roll, slumping back in your seat. “You’re ridiculous.”

Ellie leaned over, smirking. “And yet, you still picked me over dancing under tissue-paper streamers and pretending to care about who slow-danced with who.”

You gave her a playful shove, but she caught your wrist, holding it hostage for a moment. “Face it, L/N. I’m the better deal.”

“Better deal?” you scoffed, trying not to smile. “Your car smells like wet dog and desperation. And your tux looks like it’s been through hell.”

Ellie gasped, clutching her chest as though you’d stabbed her. “Excuse you—this tux is vintage.”

“Vintage from where? A dumpster?”

She shook her head, pretending to be wounded, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her. “Wow. Brutal. You wound me on prom night. Right here.” She jabbed a finger at her heart, feigning collapse across the steering wheel.

You laughed so hard you had to clutch your stomach, tears welling again. “You’re the most dramatic person I know.”

“Me?” Ellie sat up again, eyes wide, grin feral. “You literally refused to eat cafeteria pizza for a month because they changed the crust recipe.”

Your mouth dropped open. “Okay, first of all, it tasted like cardboard! And second of all, you’re supposed to love me unconditionally, not bring up my darkest moments.”

Ellie cackled, tossing her head back, her hair falling into her face. “Oh, don’t worry—I love you through all your darkest moments. Even the pizza boycott of junior year.”

You crossed your arms, pretending to pout, though your lips kept twitching. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” She reached over, tugging gently at the strap of your dress where it slipped on your shoulder. “You loooove me.”

You smacked her hand away, laughing so hard it broke your fake glare. “You’re such a menace.”

“And you’re stuck with me,” Ellie said with a cocky grin, slouching back into her seat and raising the flask like it was a trophy. “Forever.”

The word hung there for a second—forever—and it wasn’t said like a joke, not really.

Ellie flicked the flask cap shut and tossed it into the cupholder, her hand lingering there like she didn’t quite know what to do with it next. The car settled into silence, not uncomfortable, but heavy with something unspoken. The gym music in the distance had dulled to a faint heartbeat, drowned out by the night pressing soft and infinite against the windows.

You pulled your knees up into the seat, hugging them against your chest. Your dress glittered faintly in the low dashboard glow, sequins like stars stitched into fabric. Ellie was still watching you—she always was—but her grin had softened, her usual sarcasm dialed down into something almost reverent.

“What?” you asked, smiling despite yourself, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

Ellie shook her head slowly, biting at the corner of her lip like she was trying to keep something in. “Nothing. Just…” Her voice trailed, then picked back up, quieter. “You look… really fucking beautiful.”

The words weren’t delivered with her usual cocky flourish. They were soft, clumsy, almost fragile—like if she said them too loud, they’d shatter. And for a moment, you couldn’t think of anything witty to throw back. Your pulse thrummed against your skin, loud enough you were sure she could hear it.

Heat prickled at the tips of your ears. “Ellie…” you whispered, her name caught halfway between a sigh and a plea.

She leaned closer, slow enough that you could have stopped her if you wanted to. You didn’t. You couldn’t. Her palm hovered at your cheek, hesitant, then finally landed, warm and calloused and grounding. Her thumb traced the line of your jaw, featherlight, like she was memorizing you all over again.

The air between you felt thin, like it had been stretched too tight. You could feel the warmth of her breath against your lips, the faint taste of whiskey still lingering on it.

And then she kissed you.

It wasn’t the rushed, messy kind of kiss you’d sometimes stolen in hallways between classes. This one was deliberate, aching, slow—like she had been waiting for this exact moment all night. The press of her mouth against yours was soft but sure, the kind of kiss that unraveled you without demanding anything more than surrender.

You melted into her, your hand sliding up to curl around the back of her neck, pulling her closer. Ellie shifted in her seat, angling herself toward you, one arm wrapping firmly around your waist as though she was afraid you might slip away.

The taste of her was a mix of stolen liquor and mint gum, sharp and sweet all at once. Your heart thundered in your chest, your breaths growing quicker as the kiss deepened, turned hungrier, the line between playful and desperate blurring in the heat of it.

Her hands, usually so steady, trembled slightly against your waist, betraying just how much this meant to her. She pulled back for the barest second, foreheads pressed together, eyes searching yours. “God, I love you.” she whispered, like the words had been clawing their way out of her for months.

You didn’t even hesitate. “I love you too. You…you complete me, Els.” The words came out steady, certain, carrying all the weight of every look, every laugh, every secret shared between you since the willow tree.

And then you kissed her again, fiercer this time, laughter spilling between the press of your mouths, both of you tangled up in sequins and tuxedo fabric, as if the whole world had narrowed down to the warmth of this tiny car and the two of you inside it.

Ellie broke the kiss first, her forehead still resting against yours, breaths ragged and uneven. Her eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up, pupils blown wide like she was caught between awe and hunger. You could feel her heart hammering against your ribs where her chest pressed to yours, just as frantic as your own.

The cramped front seat suddenly felt like it was shrinking, too small to hold the gravity between you. Ellie let out a shaky laugh, low and husky. “Okay—” she panted, thumb brushing against your cheek, “we’re definitely about to break the gearshift if we stay up here.”

You grinned against her mouth, whispering between kisses, “Then… maybe we should move?”

She didn’t need to be told twice. Ellie pulled back just far enough to clamber awkwardly over the center console, boots thudding against the floor mat. She tugged you along with her, your laughter muffled against her lips as the two of you half-tripped, half-tumbled into the backseat.

The old leather squeaked beneath you as Ellie finally settled, dragging you into her lap like you belonged there—like there was no other place in the world you could possibly fit. The LED glow from the dashboard bled faintly into the back, painting her in soft shadows, the green of her eyes catching the light even in the dimness.

Your hands found the collar of her shirt, fingers curling into the fabric as you pulled her closer. Her palms gripped your waist, sliding up your sides with a kind of reverence, as though every inch of you was a prayer she was learning by heart.

The kiss deepened again, no longer tentative but urgent, tasting of everything unsaid—the whispered confessions, the stolen glances, the years of circling each other until finally landing here, in this tiny orbit of warmth and want.

You gasped softly when her teeth grazed your bottom lip, and Ellie froze, eyes snapping open, panic flickering across her face like maybe she’d gone too far.

But you only smiled, breathless, brushing your nose against hers. “Don’t stop,” you whispered, voice ragged but sure.

Ellie groaned quietly, relief and desire tangled together, and then kissed you like she meant to drown in you. The world outside—the prom, the gymnasium lights, the rules and the parents and the small-town whispers—fell away. All that remained was the heat of her mouth, the weight of her hands, and the way time seemed to stretch infinitely inside that car, every second pulling you deeper into her gravity.

When you finally broke apart, gasping, both of you collapsed against the seat, limbs tangled, hearts racing like they’d never find their way back down. Ellie pressed her face into the crook of your neck, her voice muffled but fierce. “I don’t care if this night’s supposed to be about stupid crowns or slow dances… this—” she tightened her hold around your waist, “this is all I’ll ever need.”

Ellie’s lips trailed lower, mapping the slope of your jaw, the hollow of your throat. Each kiss left behind a brand of warmth, deliberate and slow, until her teeth scraped lightly against the soft skin of your neck. You shivered, clutching at her shirt, as her mouth lingered there—sucking gently, leaving the kind of mark you’d catch in the mirror tomorrow and blush over.

She chuckled low against your skin, her breath hot, her voice ragged. “Gonna make sure everybody knows you ditched prom with me.” Another kiss, another bruise blooming like ink spilled across parchment. “That you’re mine.”

Your pulse stumbled beneath her mouth, a frantic drum Ellie seemed determined to memorize. By the time she pulled back, your skin was peppered with evidence—purple smudges glowing like constellations under the dim light.

Her hands, trembling but eager, slid down your sides, fingertips brushing the curve of your waist. You felt her tug at the zipper of your dress, slow and reverent, as though she was peeling back a secret the world wasn’t supposed to see.

But then—your breath caught, sharp, not from her touch but from the weight pressing too quickly against your chest. That familiar heaviness crept in, the reminder of your limits, your body’s quiet rebellion even in moments you wanted to surrender to completely.

You placed your hand gently over hers, halting the zipper halfway down. Ellie froze instantly, eyes snapping up to yours, concern cutting through the haze of heat like a blade.

“Ellie…” you breathed, your voice fragile but steady. “Can we just… go slow? Please.”

For a moment, silence stretched between you, only broken by the hum of the engine cooling outside. Then Ellie softened, her hand retreating from your zipper to cradle your cheek instead. She kissed you once—soft, grounding—before whispering against your lips, “Hey… yeah. Of course. I’ve got you.”

Her forehead pressed against yours, eyes closed, as if she was aligning herself with the rhythm of your breath. “We’ll take our time,” she murmured, her thumb stroking along your jaw. “I’ll savour you, every second. I’m not in a rush.”

And when she kissed you again, it wasn’t frantic, wasn’t desperate—it was deliberate. Gentle, almost reverent, like she was learning you all over again, memorising every sigh and shiver, every place her lips could touch without demanding too much. Ellie slowed herself down for you, her touch softer, her weight careful. The fire was still there, burning hot and reckless, but now it smouldered low, patient, content to flicker instead of roar.

It wasn’t about how far you went—it was about the way she held you, kissed you, and promised with every brush of her lips that she’d never push you past where you couldn’t go.

THREE YEARS LATER…

The apartment smelled faintly of dust and fresh paint, the kind of hollow scent that clings to empty spaces. Sunlight poured in through the one wide window in the living room, casting a pale, golden rectangle across the floor that made the cardboard boxes glow like treasure chests waiting to be cracked open. The place was small, sure—kitchen half the size of the one back home, bedroom barely fitting the mattress they’d hauled up the narrow stairs—but it hummed with a quiet promise. Four walls, a roof, and the two of you.

Ellie came in with another box balanced against her chest, her boots thudding against the hardwood like a drumbeat. She dropped it down with a grunt, wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. Her hair clung in messy strands to her temples, and her flannel—rolled to the elbows—was already dusted with little smudges from the cardboard edges.

You sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor, hugging a pillow to your chest, trying to ignore the guilt blooming in your ribs. The truth was, every part of you itched to get up, to grab a box, to do your share—but your body didn’t always play by the same rules your heart did. And Ellie, stubborn as a stone, wasn’t about to let you risk pushing yourself.

“You know,” you said, tapping your chin with mock thoughtfulness, “this really looks like a one-woman operation. I don’t remember signing up for the ‘Ellie’s Solo Moving Company’ experience.”

She looked at you from across the room, lips curling into that familiar, crooked grin that always knocked the air out of you. “Oh, don’t worry,” she said, dropping her voice into a ridiculous announcer tone. “We offer premium services here. Furniture hauling, book lifting, even emotional support if the customer gets too overwhelmed by all these scary boxes.”

You snorted. “Scary boxes?”

“Very scary.” She nodded solemnly, then gestured dramatically at the nearest stack. “That one right there? Pretty sure it growled at me earlier.”

A laugh burst out of you, sharp and loud, echoing through the half-empty room. Ellie’s smirk widened like it always did when she managed to wring that sound out of you. For a moment, the guilt in your chest thinned into nothing but air and light.

When she finally plopped down next to you on the floor, the boards creaked in protest. She leaned back on her palms, boots stretched out, and gave you that look—the one that said she saw right through you, no matter how well you tried to mask it. Without asking, she pulled you sideways until you were sitting against her, tucked into her lap like it was carved just for you.

Her chin landed on your shoulder, the weight grounding, her breath tickling your neck. “You feel bad, don’t you?” she murmured. Not a question, but a knowing.

You fiddled with the corner of the pillow in your arms, chewing your lip. “Maybe a little. I mean… you’re lugging all the heavy stuff while I sit here making commentary.”

Ellie huffed, a sound caught between a laugh and a sigh. “Babe. Listen.” She tilted your chin gently so you’d meet her eyes—green like summer leaves catching sunlight. “Boxes are easy. Anyone can carry boxes. But you? You make this place ours. You’re the one who dragged in that dumb blanket”—she pointed at the couch, where your favorite blanket already sprawled like it owned the place—“and set up those goofy little photo frames before anything else. You’re the reason this place doesn’t just feel like four walls. It feels like home. You feel like home.”

Her words landed warm and heavy, like someone draping a quilt over your shoulders. Your throat tightened, and you pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, tasting faint salt from the sweat still clinging to her skin. “You’re ridiculous,” you whispered, but it came out thick, affection drowning every syllable.

Ellie grinned, her nose brushing yours as she leaned closer. “Ridiculously in love with you,” she corrected, the words playful but carrying that steady, quiet truth she always spoke with.

The room fell quiet around you, but it wasn’t an empty silence. It was full—the kind of silence that hummed with laughter just passed, with the promise of everything still waiting. Even the boxes seemed less like burdens now and more like little vessels of your future, waiting to be unpacked, waiting to spill their pieces into this new life you were building together.

For the first time, the chipped walls didn’t look worn—they looked lived in. The scuffed floor wasn’t tired—it was ready for new footsteps, your footsteps. And the guilt in your chest softened, replaced with that steady, glowing warmth that always came with Ellie’s presence: a reminder that this wasn’t about who carried more or less. It was about carrying it together.

A few hours later, the apartment no longer echoed with emptiness. Instead, it was filled with the crinkle of takeout bags and the clatter of plastic chopsticks against cheap cardboard containers. You and Ellie sat cross-legged on the living room floor, the boxes serving as makeshift tables, your blanket now draped around your shoulders like a cape.

The glow of a single lamp lit the room in honey-gold, and the scent of soy sauce and fried rice hung thick in the air. Ellie was halfway through retelling a story about almost dropping one of the heavier boxes on her foot when she cracked herself up mid-sentence, noodles nearly slipping from her chopsticks.

“You should’ve seen my face,” she said, laughing so hard her shoulders shook. “I was like—” She mimed a slow-motion horror expression, mouth stretched wide, eyes bugging out in dramatic panic.

You laughed so hard you nearly choked on your spring roll. “Oh my god, you look like you’re trying to sneeze and cry at the same time.”

“That’s exactly what was happening!” she said, leaning forward, her grin crooked and bright.

The two of you dissolved into laughter again, the kind that bent your ribs and left your cheeks aching. It wasn’t the story that was funny, not really—it was just the fact that it was you and her, on your floor, eating greasy food out of boxes, and suddenly the world didn’t feel too big to hold.

Eventually, when the laughter softened into quiet, Ellie flopped backward onto the floor with a groan, staring up at the ceiling. “We really did it,” she murmured, a lazy smile tugging at her lips. “This place is ours now. No more dorms. No more couch surfing.”

You followed her gaze up to the ceiling, where the shadows of the lamp played across cracked plaster. The air between you stilled with that fragile new-home feeling—like standing at the edge of something big, something quietly monumental.

“Yeah,” you whispered, smiling to yourself. “Ours. Just the two of us.”

Ellie tilted her head toward you, her smirk softening. “For now.”

You caught the implication, arching a brow. “For now?”

She shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though you could see the glint of mischief in her eyes. “I dunno. Maybe someday we’ll get a plant or something. Or like… a lava lamp.”

You snorted. “Wow. Big dreams, Williams. A lava lamp.”

“I’m serious!” she laughed, poking your knee. “That thing would really tie the room together.”

You shook your head, grinning. “Forget lava lamps. You know what would really make this place feel like home?”

“What?”

You took a bite of fried rice for dramatic effect before answering. “A dog.”

Ellie froze mid-bite. Slowly, she lowered her chopsticks, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “A… dog?” she repeated, like the word itself was foreign.

You nodded, biting back a grin at her tone. “Yeah. Like, one of those big goofy ones. Maybe a golden retriever. Or a husky. Something fluffy.”

She blinked at you, deadpan. “You’re kidding.”

“What?” you said, feigning innocence. “You don’t like dogs?”

Her nose wrinkled, an expression of pure betrayal. “I don’t dislike them,” she said carefully, drawing out the words. “I just… something about the drool, the smell, the way they stare at you with those… eyes.”

You burst out laughing, clutching your stomach. “Ellie,” you wheezed, “are you telling me you have the ick about dogs?”

She pointed a chopstick at you accusingly. “Don’t say it like that! It makes it sound ridiculous.”

“It is ridiculous!” you shot back, still laughing. “They’re literally angels. Pure little angels on four legs, and you’re sitting here acting like they’re tiny goblins trying to hex you with their eyes.”

Ellie pressed a hand to her chest, feigning offense. “Excuse me, but I have survived a lot in my life. A lot. And I refuse to let some slobbery beast take me down.”

You were laughing so hard you had to wipe at your eyes. “You sound insane. Actually insane. How can someone hate dogs?”

“I never said hate!” Ellie insisted, though the corners of her mouth were twitching with a grin she couldn’t hold back. “I said… hesitant appreciation from a distance. Like, ‘Oh cool, that thing exists, but please keep it over there.’”

You leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, tough luck, Williams. Because one day, this tiny apartment is gonna have a furry little roommate. And you’ll fall in love, I promise.”

Ellie groaned dramatically, dropping her head back against the wall. “God, if you bring a dog home, I’ll never be able to eat dinner again without worrying about drool on my jeans.”

You nudged her with your foot, smirking. “Yeah, but you’ll still eat dinner. With me. And the dog.”

For a moment, she was quiet, staring up at the ceiling like she was weighing the universe. Then she looked back at you, eyes softening despite herself. “Fine. If it makes you happy… I’ll think about it.”

“Think about it?” you gasped, clutching your chest as if she’d mortally wounded you. “That’s not good enough. You’re gonna be the cool but reluctant dog mom, Ellie. Don’t fight it.”

Ellie shook her head, muttering under her breath as she reached for another dumpling. “Unbelievable. I move your whole life into this apartment, and in return, you curse me with a slobbery roomma—”

A FEW WEEKS LATER...

“—I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

She glanced down at the golden retriever trotting loyally at her side, the leash slack between them. The dog’s tongue lolled happily out of her mouth, fur catching the sun in soft, honey-coloured waves. She looked up at Ellie with that classic, dopey retriever smile—warm, open, like every day was a miracle. But then, as if to add salt to the wound, the dog side-eyed her handler, tail thumping against the doorframe as though she knew exactly who had lost the argument in this household.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Ellie grumbled, narrowing her eyes. “You didn’t win. I’m still in charge.”

The dog panted back at her, unconvinced.

Ellie blew out a sigh, raking a hand through her hair as she nudged the door open with her boot. The retriever bounded inside like she’d always lived there, nails clicking across the wooden floor, ears bouncing with every step.

Inside, you were curled up on the couch with a book in your hands, hair falling softly into your face. The late afternoon light draped itself across your shoulders, golden and gentle. You didn’t even look up right away—you were too immersed in the page—until you heard the sound of paws against the floorboards and Ellie’s muttered, “God help me.”

You turned lazily at first, expecting just Ellie, but the moment your eyes landed on the retriever prancing happily toward you, the book slipped right out of your hands.

Your face lit up like sunrise. “No way.”

Ellie winced as if bracing for impact. “Before you say anything—”

But you didn’t let her finish. You were already on your knees on the couch, leaning over the armrest, both arms outstretched like you’d been waiting your whole life for this exact moment. “Ellie, oh my god.”

The retriever bounded straight into your embrace, her tail wagging hard enough to rattle the picture frames on the wall. She buried her nose into your chest, whining happily as you laughed, burying your face into her fur.

Ellie stood there a few feet away, arms crossed, glaring at the dog like she’d just been personally wronged. “I can’t believe this,” she muttered. “I spend weeks telling you why this is a bad idea, and one look at you and she’s already replacing me. She’s literally a homewrecker.”

You looked up at her, your grin so wide it nearly split your face. “Ellie,” you said breathlessly, “you brought me a dog.”

“I regret bringing you a dog,” Ellie corrected, but her lips were twitching, betraying the smile she was fighting. 

You laughed, turning back to press another kiss into the retriever’s soft fur. “Nope. Too late. She’s perfect. You’re perfect. This is the best day of my life.”

The golden retriever looked back at Ellie, tongue lolling, tail still wagging. That same smug little glint lingered in her eyes—like she knew she’d just cemented her place in this household forever.

Ellie groaned into her hands. “I can’t believe I lost to a dog.”

But when she dropped her hands and saw you glowing with joy, hugging the dog like a piece of your heart you’d been missing, she couldn’t quite bring herself to be mad about it. 

The golden retriever had made herself comfortable across your lap, paws tucked awkwardly but determinedly into your thighs like she was staking claim. You were laughing, trying to shift to make space, but she was already nestled in and refusing to budge.

“Ellie,” you said breathlessly, looking up at her with puppy eyes of your own, “come sit. She’s your dog too, even if you’re pretending to hate her.”

Ellie raised her brows, arms crossed. “Uh, no. That’s your beast. I’m not getting hair all over my clothes.”

But you just kept staring, that soft grin playing at your lips. You knew her too well—the longer you held her gaze, the quicker she’d cave. Sure enough, after about five seconds, Ellie sighed like you’d just asked her to cut off an arm.

“Fine. Move over.”

You scooted, patting the cushion beside you. The retriever took the invitation as her own, stretching out to take up as much space as possible. Ellie flopped down with a grunt, knees bumping yours, and the dog immediately turned to shove her head into Ellie’s lap.

“See?” you whispered triumphantly. “She likes you.”

Ellie stiffened, staring down at the dog like she’d just been ambushed. “Stupid,” she muttered, but her hand betrayed her, fingers already buried in the retriever’s fur. She scratched reluctantly, and the dog sighed in contentment, tail thumping against the couch.

You leaned your chin on Ellie’s shoulder, watching her soften in real time. “So,” you said, voice lilting with curiosity, “what made you pick her?”

Ellie hesitated, eyes fixed on the dog. “She, uh… apparently had some service training before. Didn’t get placed ‘cause she’s too—” she gestured vaguely at the big goofy grin on the dog’s face— “friendly. But she still knows commands. Thought maybe it’d be… better, y’know. For you.” 

The warmth that bloomed in your chest was instant, sharp enough to sting at the corners of your eyes. You pressed your forehead lightly into Ellie’s arm, smiling through it. “You’re too sweet, you know that?”

Ellie made a face. “What, for being practical?”

“For being the best,” you corrected.

Ellie’s ears went pink, and she gave a little scoff, turning back to the dog like she could hide behind her. 

After a beat, you tapped the retriever’s head. “So what do we call her?”

Ellie blinked. “Call her? Like… a name?”

You gave her a look. “Ellie. We can’t just call her ‘Dog.’”

“Why not?” Ellie smirked. “Has a nice ring to it. Real simple. Easy to yell when she’s chewing on the couch.”

You snorted, nudging her side. “No. She deserves better.”

“Fine,” Ellie drawled, pretending to think hard. “How about… Killer?”

The retriever blinked up at her with those big brown eyes, tongue lolling, tail wagging against Ellie’s thigh.

You cackled. “Yes, that’s terrifying. She’s a menace, can’t you tell?”

Ellie shrugged. “Reverse psychology. People will be scared.”

“Ellie.”

“Alright, alright,” she sighed. “Sunshine?”

“Too cheesy.”

“Banjo?”

You scrunched your nose. “She’s not a banjo.”

Ellie gestured at the dog’s wagging tail. “Looks like one to me.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to smother your smile. For the next few minutes, you went back and forth—Maple, Honey, Socks, Noodle—each name met with either laughter or exaggerated groans. The retriever seemed blissfully unaware of the weight of the conversation, happy just to be sandwiched between the two of you.

Finally, as you ran your fingers absentmindedly through her fur, lost in thought, you murmured, “...What about Daisy?”

Ellie glanced at you, then back at the dog, recognition flashing through her eyes. She stayed quiet for a moment, like she was testing it on her tongue. “...Daisy, huh?”

The retriever perked up at the sound of her maybe-name, tail wagging faster.

Ellie snorted. “Oh great, now she likes it.”

You grinned, looking at her hopefully. “So it’s settled?”

Ellie exhaled, scratching under the dog’s chin. “Yeah, fine. Daisy. Welcome home, I guess.”

Daisy wagged her tail so hard the couch shook, and you leaned over to kiss Ellie on the cheek. “Told you she’d win you over.”

Ellie groaned. “Don’t push it.”

The apartment smelled faintly of rain when Ellie pushed the door open, her boots dragging like anchors across the floorboards. The day clung to her like a second skin—grit in her hair, fatigue in her bones, the weight of everything she’d done and everything she hadn’t pressing down on her shoulders until she thought she might crumble right there in the doorway.

She didn’t even bother with the lights. She just let the door shut behind her with a dull thud and let her body carry her where it wanted to go. And of course, it carried her to you.

You were curled on the couch, a blanket cocooned around you and a book balanced in your hands, the lamp beside you spilling a soft golden light across your features. You looked up the second you heard her boots shuffle closer, and your smile was like a lighthouse beam cutting through fog—gentle, steady, impossible to miss.

Ellie let out a sound halfway between a sigh and a groan, tossing her bag somewhere in the vicinity of the wall, and made a straight line for you.

“Long day?” you murmured, already setting your book aside.

Ellie didn’t answer, not with words. Instead, she all but collapsed onto the couch beside you, melting into your side like she’d been carved to fit there. Her arms found their way around your waist with a clumsy sort of desperation, and she buried her face in your chest, breathing you in like you were oxygen after being held underwater too long.

“I wanna stay here forever,” she mumbled, voice muffled against your shirt.

You smoothed a hand through her hair, fingers combing through tangled strands, and felt her shiver under the touch. She was all rough edges out there, the sharp corners and armor she wore like second nature—but here, she came undone. Here, she folded herself into you like a weary soldier laying down arms.

“You’re exhausted,” you whispered, lips brushing the crown of her head.

Ellie hummed low in her throat, the sound vibrating against your sternum. “Mhm. Don’t care. I’m not moving.”

She was clingier than usual—her grip tightening every time you shifted, her legs tangling with yours like she was afraid you might slip away if she didn’t hold you close enough. Her weight pressed heavy against you, but not in a burdened way; in the way ivy clings to stone, steady and unrelenting, wrapping itself so deeply that it becomes part of the foundation.

“Ellie…” you teased gently, “you’re crushing me.”

“Nope,” she said without moving, voice soft and stubborn. “I’m charging. Like… plugging into you. You’re my outlet.”

You laughed, a sound that seemed to make her cling tighter. You cupped her jaw, tilting her face up just enough to see the exhaustion written across her features—the dark crescents beneath her eyes, the slackness of her mouth, the way even her freckles seemed tired.

“You could’ve just asked for a hug,” you murmured.

Ellie’s lips twitched, but her voice was almost childlike. “Not a hug. Need you. Whole thing.”

Ellie’s words—Need you. Whole thing.—hung in the air like something fragile, too precious to touch. You tilted her face up by the chin, and she blinked at you, lids heavy, eyes glazed with exhaustion but burning with something else beneath it.

You pressed the lightest kiss to the corner of her mouth, a whisper-soft thing, meant to soothe. But Ellie followed, chasing after your lips before you could pull back, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was needier, hungrier.

It was slow at first. A gentle brushing of lips, like the two of you were relearning each other’s shapes. But then her hand slid up your side, warm and trembling, and the kiss deepened. The exhaustion in her bones didn’t stop her from pouring everything she couldn’t put into words into the press of her lips against yours.

She murmured between kisses, breath hot against your skin.

“God, I need you…”

Another kiss, deeper this time, like she was drinking you in.

“Don’t even care about anything else right now…”

Her voice broke soft, desperate.

“Just—just you. Only you.”

Every word fell into your mouth like a secret, and you caught them all, answering with kisses that grew slower but no less intense. Your fingers curled into the back of her shirt, tugging her closer until your bodies were pressed flush together, her heartbeat hammering against yours.

Ellie sighed into your mouth, the sound almost a groan, almost a prayer, and tilted her head to kiss you deeper, teeth grazing your bottom lip in a way that made your breath stutter. She broke only to mouth at your jaw, your cheek, your neck—like she couldn’t decide which part of you she needed more.

Your hands threaded into her hair, tugging gently, and she made a noise low in her throat that had you dizzy.

The couch felt too small, too confined for the gravity pulling you both together. So when Ellie finally pulled back, breathless, her forehead pressed to yours, she whispered, “Bedroom?” in a voice that was half question, half plea.

You nodded, and that was all she needed. She stood, her hands finding yours to pull you up with her, and without letting go, she guided you down the short hallway. 

The bedroom door clicked behind you, but in your haze you didn’t even hear it shut. All you could focus on was Ellie’s mouth, hot and insistent against yours, her hands braced firmly at your waist like she was anchoring herself to you. Every kiss was desperate, messy, like she’d been saving them all up for this exact moment and couldn’t waste a single one.

The two of you toppled onto the mattress in a tangle, laughter lost under the tangle of sighs and gasps. The sheets bunched beneath you, rustling as Ellie pressed her weight into you, her thigh wedged between yours in a way that made your whole body light up.

She kissed you like she was parched, drinking you in, swallowing every sound you gave her. Your shirt bunched in her hands, her knuckles grazing bare skin as she pushed higher and higher. Goosebumps broke across your stomach, your back arching instinctively into her touch.

Ellie’s breath stuttered, breaking the kiss just long enough to murmur, hoarse and urgent, “God, I need this—need you.” Her hand hooked at the hem of your shirt, tugging it up in one rough motion, her lips diving back to your neck like she couldn’t bear the distance.

You gasped, the world spinning, your pulse so loud in your ears it drowned out everything else. She had you—her weight, her mouth, her hands—and then—

She stopped.

Abruptly.

“Ellie…” your voice came out small, ragged with need. You tried to tug her back down, but her head had turned, her body gone stiff above yours. Her eyes weren’t on you anymore—they were looking past your shoulder.

And when you followed her gaze—

There she was.

Daisy.

Sitting perfectly centered in the half-open doorway like she’d staged the whole thing. Her big golden body was framed by the sliver of hallway light, her ears perked, her tongue hanging out in a goofy pant that looked suspiciously like a grin. Her tail thumped against the doorframe with steady, wagging rhythm—thump, thump, thump—like the world’s most inappropriate drumroll.

For three whole seconds, no one moved.

Then Ellie let out a strangled noise—half groan, half cry—and collapsed forward, burying her face against your chest. Her muffled words were equal parts agony and disbelief: “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

The image of Ellie, flustered and furious, forehead pressed against you while Daisy just sat there panting happily, broke you. A laugh burst out of your throat, bubbling up uncontrollably. You slapped a hand over your mouth, but it was useless—you were shaking with it, your chest vibrating under Ellie’s cheek.

“Stop laughing,” Ellie muttered, her voice muffled against your skin. “This isn’t funny.”

“It is funny,” you wheezed, fingers curling into her hair as you tried to calm yourself down. “She’s literally cockblocking you.”

Ellie lifted her head, glaring at Daisy like she could burn holes through her fur. Daisy tilted her head to the side, ears flopping, tongue lolling as if mocking her.

“Oh, she knows,” Ellie muttered darkly. “She’s doing this on purpose.”

You snorted so hard it made your stomach ache. “She’s a dog, Ellie.”

Ellie sat back on her heels, throwing her hands up. “A dog with an agenda. Look at her. She’s smug as hell.”

As if on cue, Daisy wagged harder, her tail thumping a little faster against the doorframe. You laughed so hard you had to curl on your side, covering your mouth, while Ellie raked a hand down her face.

“I swear to god,” she muttered, pointing an accusatory finger at Daisy, “I did not sign up for this when I brought you home. I knew you’d ruin my life.”

The room was still heavy with the lingering heat of what you’d almost had—the uneven breaths, the swollen lips, your shirt still rucked halfway up your chest. But now it was tangled up with laughter, the kind that left your ribs aching and your eyes watering.

A moment passed before Ellie sat up suddenly, a mischievous gleam cutting through her annoyance. You knew that look—it was the same one she got when she spotted an opportunity to cheat at cards or hustle someone in pool.

Without a word, she leaned over the nightstand, snatching the first thing her hand landed on: a pen. She held it up between two fingers, brandishing it like it was Excalibur, and then snapped her gaze to Daisy, who was still sitting there like the world’s happiest voyeur.

“Hey,” Ellie said, voice low and conspiratorial, like she was about to pull off the greatest heist in history. Daisy’s ears perked immediately, head tilting just a bit. Ellie wagged the pen dramatically, then pulled her arm back in a pitcher’s wind-up. “Go get it!”

Her hand snapped forward, but the pen never left her palm.

Daisy’s eyes followed the invisible arc like she’d seen it fly, her whole body lurching forward before she launched herself down the hallway at full speed—paws skittering, nails clicking, tail wagging furiously.

The sound of her bounding away echoed down the hall. For a moment, there was silence, and then—Ellie moved. Fast. She was on her feet, the door clicked shut, and the lock slid into place just as the faint patter of Daisy’s paws returned.

You both froze, listening.

There was a pause outside the door, followed by a single confused scratch. Then another. And then… silence, except for the faint whine of a very betrayed dog.

Ellie turned back toward you, triumph blazing in her green eyes like she’d just conquered Rome. She spread her arms wide, pen still clutched between her fingers. “And that,” she declared, chest heaving with victory, “is how you outsmart a cockblocker.”

You tried—tried so hard—not to laugh, but the image of Daisy’s baffled little face popped into your mind and your composure cracked. You burst into giggles, hiding your face in the pillow as Ellie dropped the pen onto the nightstand like she was sheathing her sword after battle.

“She’s going to hate you,” you managed between snorts.

“She already hated me,” Ellie countered, crawling back onto the bed, her grin wolfish now. “But guess what? I don’t care. Because we—” she hooked her arm around your waist, tugging you close until her mouth brushed yours again— “finally have some privacy.”

LATER THAT NIGHT…

Twilight stretched on like a thread pulled too tight, thin and threatening to snap. Hours ago, everything had been laughter and warmth—Ellie’s hands greedy against your skin, your breath soft against her neck, the both of you burning up like the world outside didn’t exist. But that version of the night had been stolen, traded in for this one: a hallway cloaked in shadows, a locked door, and the unrelenting sound of your body turning itself inside out.

Ellie’s shoulders pressed to the bathroom door like she could absorb some of your pain by osmosis, as if sheer willpower could bleed through wood and paint. Her eyes kept drifting to the slice of light that leaked across the floorboards, sterile and unwavering, like a spotlight meant to interrogate her helplessness.

The sound came again—wet, guttural, brutal in its honesty. You gagged, choked, and the toilet caught what you couldn’t hold. Ellie’s whole body seized. Her jaw clenched so tight the muscle ticked like a clock wound too far. She bit down on her thumb until the crescent of her teeth left angry red divots in her skin. A metallic tang of blood bloomed on her tongue, sharp and grounding, but not enough to dull the helpless panic running through her veins.

“Babe?” Her voice cracked, barely holding itself steady. She knocked lightly again, as if the door itself could bruise. “Talk to me. Please.”

There was a pause, broken only by your ragged inhale. “I’m fine,” you whispered hoarsely. Then almost immediately, the sound of you heaving again echoed, so violent it rattled straight down into her bones.

Ellie squeezed her eyes shut. “Fuck,” she hissed, forehead thunking lightly against the door. The wood was cool against her overheated skin. “You don’t sound fine.”

She wanted—needed—to be inside, kneeling beside you, holding your hair back, rubbing your spine in circles until the sickness eased. But she stayed put, because you’d locked her out. Because sometimes loving you meant listening when you said you needed space, even if that space was killing her to respect.

She slid down the door, spine curving until she was sitting on the floor, knees pulled up, head bowed. The bathroom fan droned on like a cruel metronome. Every retch was a punch to her gut, every silence between them a cliff she dangled off.

Then—soft and unexpected—something brushed against her shin.

Ellie blinked and glanced down, startled out of her spiral. Daisy stood there, golden coat dulled by shadow but eyes wide and liquid, gleaming like they were carved from the same light that spilled under the bathroom door. Without hesitation, the dog pressed her nose into Ellie’s leg, insistent but tender, and leaned her full weight into her as if to say you don’t have to hold this alone.

Ellie’s throat tightened. “Hey,” she murmured, her voice frayed around the edges. “Shouldn’t you be asleep, stupid?”

Daisy tilted her head, then did something so absurd it almost broke Ellie: she wrapped her front paws clumsily around Ellie’s thigh and held on. It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t even practical. But it was stubborn, an anchor in the form of a hug.

Ellie’s laugh came out shaky, a half-sob disguised as humor. “Jesus. You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Her hands found Daisy’s ears, scratching absently, her fingers tangling in the soft fur.

The golden retriever leaned harder into her, panting lightly, as though she knew exactly what Ellie needed and wasn’t going anywhere until she got it.

Ellie let her forehead drop against Daisy’s neck, the smell of dog fur grounding her more than she’d admit. “I’m supposed to take care of her,” she whispered into the fur, words splintering as they left her. “Not stand out here like—like some useless fucking—” Her voice cracked, tears she refused to name prickling at the corners of her eyes. She shut them tight, swallowed hard.

Inside the bathroom, you groaned softly, the sound thinned out by the door but still enough to make Ellie’s chest cave in. Her hand clenched into Daisy’s fur, clutching tight.

The dog licked her knuckles, slow and deliberate.

Ellie huffed out a breath that was half a laugh, half a cry. “Yeah,” she murmured, stroking Daisy’s ears again. “I know. I know. I just…fuck, I hate this.”

Daisy tilted her head up at her, calm and unbothered, tongue poking slightly out of her mouth like she was trying to smile her way through the tension. Ellie shook her head, chuckling wetly. “You’re supposed to be the dumb one in this house, you know that? Not the one keeping me together.”

Another retch echoed from the bathroom, and Ellie winced so hard her whole body curled in on itself. She was trembling, she realized, hands shaking even as she pet Daisy, trying to give comfort when she was the one unraveling.

The golden retriever pressed her nose more firmly against Ellie’s leg, then gave a small huff of breath, like settle down, I’ve got you.

Ellie exhaled a laugh, ragged and soft, then let her back press into the door once more, sliding lower until she was almost lying flat on the hardwood. Daisy flopped down beside her, warm body a steady line against her hip.

And so Ellie stayed, one hand on Daisy’s fur, the other curled into a fist against the wood of the bathroom door. Waiting. Listening. Loving you in the only way she could right now—through patience, through presence, through the vow that she wasn’t going anywhere, not tonight, not ever.

PRESENT DAY.

The hallway stretched out like it was designed to test patience—long, sterile, blinding under the buzzing fluorescent lights that made Ellie’s temples throb. She walked stiffly, jaw locked, the muscle ticking there with every step. Her hands were buried in her jacket pockets, fists balled so tight she could feel her nails bite into her palms. The smell of disinfectant clung to everything—sharp, chemical, invasive—and it only stoked the restless fire in her chest.

Beside her, the nursing student all but wilted under the weight of her presence. Clipboard clutched to their chest, they walked too fast, then slowed down suddenly as if afraid to outpace her. Ellie’s green eyes flicked sideways every so often, a deliberate, razor-edged side-eye that made them flinch each time. She could practically hear their heart hammering in the silence.

“Uh, i-it’s, um… just d-down this hallway, ma’am,” they stammered, voice wobbling like a poorly tuned guitar string.

Ellie’s brow arched. “Ma’am?” she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t stick. She didn’t bother correcting them—didn’t even bother hiding the way her irritation bled off her in waves. The kid was practically vibrating, sneakers squeaking against the linoleum as if trying to keep tempo with their nerves.

When they reached the door, the poor thing nearly dropped the clipboard fumbling for the handle. Ellie’s stare pinned them in place, sharp and cutting, and for a second the air between them felt like a live wire. She exhaled, long and slow, a puff of frustration that fogged the cold edge of her anger.

But then—

The door cracked open, hinges whining, and she stepped inside.

The sight of you hit her like someone had yanked the floor out from under her.

There you were, propped up in the hospital bed, the thin blanket tucked around you like a half-hearted shield. The gown hung loose on your frame, the pale blue making your skin look almost ghostly in the too-bright light. The IV line snaked from the crook of your arm, the bag above you swaying slightly in the draft of the vent. It should have been just another hospital scene—clinical, sterile, forgettable. But with you in it, it was devastating.

Her whole body softened in an instant. The storm she’d carried down the hall evaporated like mist in sunlight.

“Jesus Christ…” she whispered before she could stop herself, the words breaking apart in the back of her throat.

Your head turned, and the moment your eyes found hers, the exhaustion there was eclipsed by something small, warm, familiar. You smiled—tired, yes, but real—and it cracked her wide open.

Ellie crossed the space in seconds, boots thudding against the tile like her body refused to waste another second not being near you. She dropped down at your side, one hand gripping the edge of the mattress like it might try to float away from her if she let go.

Up close, you looked even smaller, swallowed by blankets and tubes and pale light. She wanted to scream at the world for putting you here, for making you look like that. Instead, her fingers twitched until they found the outline of your leg through the blanket, a cautious brush like she was testing whether you were really tangible.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Ellie rasped, her voice raw, like it had been dragged over gravel.

Her eyes roamed frantically over you, taking in everything—the pallor of your cheeks, the tired slump of your shoulders, the way your chest rose and fell too slowly for her liking. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, and she leaned forward, elbows planted on her knees like if she got any closer she’d climb right into the bed with you.

For once, she didn’t care if she looked soft. Didn’t care if her voice cracked or if her face betrayed everything she usually tried so hard to keep bottled up. Because sitting there in a hospital gown, tethered to a drip, you were the only thing that mattered.

Ellie reached up, fingers hovering just shy of your wrist, careful of the IV line. Finally, she laid her hand over yours—gentle, grounding, like she was terrified of breaking you.

Ellie’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, tentative, as though she were still convincing herself you were warm and real. Her green eyes searched your face, desperate for any sign beyond the obvious, for something solid to anchor her.

“You’re okay?” she asked finally, her voice soft but urgent, every syllable strung tight like a bowstring.

You gave a small nod, lips curling into a faint smile that was half reassurance, half exhaustion. “Yeah. They’re just… keeping me here for a few more hours of observation. Just to make sure everything’s all set.”

The words settled over her like a balm, not enough to erase the ache in her chest but enough to let her breathe again. Ellie closed her eyes for a second, exhaling a heavy sigh that came out shaky at the edges, the kind of sound that carried both relief and the memory of fear. When she opened them again, the storm in her gaze had cleared into something softer, steady, and almost reverent.

Her hand slid fully over yours, fingers weaving between yours with a kind of practiced intimacy that came from years of knowing exactly where each other fit. The warmth of her palm was grounding, a tether that pulled you back from the sharp edge of the day.

As her grip tightened, the fluorescent light overhead caught on the ring hugging your finger. A simple silver band with a diamond, understated but luminous, it flashed with every small shift of your hand. The sight made her chest squeeze; it wasn’t new to her, but in this moment, under the sterile light of a hospital room, it seemed to burn brighter, like a declaration no circumstance could dull.

Ellie’s gaze lingered there for just a moment, her thumb grazing the band before she looked back up at you. The audience wouldn’t need words to understand—after everything, the two of you had crossed into forever.

“Good,” she murmured, leaning closer so her forehead nearly brushed yours. “That’s good.”

You caught the way Ellie’s eyes lingered on your hand, the way her thumb ghosted over the band like she was memorizing the texture of it all over again. Her stare wasn’t sharp—it was quiet, almost reverent, like she was standing in front of something holy.

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and for a moment you forgot the wires taped to your skin, the slow drip of the IV. All you could think of was the weight of her gaze, heavy with memory.

“What?” you asked, voice soft but teasing, the ghost of a laugh in your chest.

Ellie didn’t answer right away. She only blinked, dragging her eyes up to yours with a small shrug that failed to mask the redness threatening at the edges of her eyes. You followed her glance back down to the glint of silver on your finger.

And suddenly, your breath hitched. You remembered.

The memory slipped in like a tide, pulling you backward into it—

—It had been Ellie’s idea—a “stupid little hike,” she called it, though you’d seen the way her mouth twitched nervously every time you teased her about the effort she was putting in. She’d been strangely insistent on this one trail, the one that wound out past Jackson, where the pines gave way to an open meadow. You’d argued, half-serious, that you didn’t have the stamina for her “shady cardio schemes,” but Ellie had promised to take it slow, to carry whatever you couldn’t.

And she did. Every time you paused to catch your breath, she filled the silence with chatter—half-jokes about rocks shaped like sad faces, half-rants about how Joel once called this stretch of woods “romantic” (which she’d mocked endlessly), and half-sweet comments she thought you didn’t notice, like how the sun looked better reflecting off your hair than it did the trees.

By the time you reached the ridge, the sky was bleeding into twilight, all streaked purples and honey-gold, the kind of sky that made you feel like the whole world had slowed down just for you two.

And then you saw it.

Spread below the ridge was a meadow, wild and unruly, dotted with splashes of white and yellow—daisies. Dozens, maybe hundreds, their petals glowing faintly in the low light like lanterns scattered in the grass. You’d laughed when you realized what you were looking at, a breathless sound carried off by the breeze.

“Ellie,” you had said, tugging her hand, “you dragged me all the way out here for flowers?”

She’d smirked, but it looked nervous, her thumb twitching against your palm. “Not just flowers,” she said softly, like she was trying to convince herself, too.

You hadn’t noticed at first—how tense she was, how quiet. Your gaze was too caught on the field below, the way the daisies swayed like a sea with every gust of wind. You thought about telling her that it reminded you of when you were younger, about afternoons spent braiding crowns from weeds and blossoms, but before you could speak—she moved.

Ellie had pulled her hand from yours, and when you turned, she was already dropping to her knees in the dirt.

Your heart had lurched into your throat.

She was fumbling in her jacket pocket, muttering something under her breath that you couldn’t catch, and then she was holding it—her palm open, trembling, a tiny band resting there. It wasn’t flashy or store-bought. The silver was a little scratched, imperfect. But nestled against the dusky backdrop, it gleamed like it had swallowed the last of the sunlight.

“Don’t freak out,” she blurted, her voice just as shaky as her hands. “Please, just—don’t freak out.”

You could only stare.

Ellie licked her lips, exhaled hard, and finally looked at you. And it was like the whole world narrowed to just her—the freckles darkened by the fading light, the stubborn scar at her brow, her green eyes blown wide with fear and love all tangled together.

“I don’t have some big speech,” she started, rushing the words before she could lose them. “I know I should, but—fuck, you know me. I’m not… I’m not good at that. I just—” She faltered, her voice catching, and you swore you saw her eyes glisten. “I know I don’t want a world without you in it. Not for a day. Not for a second. You’re it for me. You’ve always been it.”

Her throat bobbed. She swallowed.

“So…” Ellie’s fingers tightened around the ring box like it was keeping her together. “Will you marry me?”

The daisies swayed below, whispering in the wind, and for a moment you couldn’t breathe. Your chest ached with how much love was pressing against your ribs, begging to spill out.

You remembered the sound of your own laugh then—raw, wet, disbelieving. Your hands shot up to cover your mouth, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes before you could stop them.

Ellie’s panic had flared immediately. “Shit, are you crying? That’s bad, right? Fuck, this was stupid—”

“Yes,” you interrupted, the word tearing out of you like a prayer. Your knees hit the dirt, your hands reaching for hers, clumsy with urgency. “Yes, Ellie. Yes, of course, yes—”

She froze, stunned, like her brain had short-circuited. “Wait. Yes? You mean—yes, yes?”

“Yes,” you laughed, shaking your head wildly, tears streaking your face. “I mean yes, yes, yes—”

Her jaw had gone slack, and then her grin—her grin had split her face open like sunlight, wide and toothy and unguarded. She’d laughed, half-relieved, half-overwhelmed, as you let her slip the ring onto your finger.

The second it slid into place, you threw your arms around her, pulling her in so tight she nearly toppled backwards. She clutched you just as desperately, her face buried in your neck, laughter and little hiccuping sobs tangling between you.

When she finally pulled back, her hands were cradling your face, her thumbs brushing your wet cheeks. “You’re stuck with me now,” she whispered, so soft it barely carried over the wind.

“Good,” you whispered back, voice raw. “That’s exactly what I want.”

And when she kissed you—hungry and shaking and full of everything words couldn’t carry—the daisies bowed in the breeze, as though even the earth itself had bent to witness the two of you choosing each other forever.

Back in the hospital, the flash of memory cracked apart like glass, leaving your heart aching in the best possible way. The ring still gleamed on your finger, just as it had that night.

And Ellie, still holding your hand like she couldn’t let go. She hadn’t stopped staring at your hand. More specifically, at the ring glinting on your finger. When she finally looked up, her mouth curved in that crooked half-smile that always gave her away.

“You cried like a baby that day,” she said, voice low, teasing.

Your laugh came out soft, breathless. “I did not.”

“You totally did,” Ellie insisted, leaning back in her chair just enough to raise a brow at you. “Like, full-on ugly tears. Sniffling, gasping, nose-red kind of crying.”

You scoffed, tugging your hand from hers just to swat weakly at her shoulder. “Shut up, you were crying too.”

She blinked, her smirk faltering, then admitted it with a shrug. “Okay, yeah. But mine was cool and mysterious crying. Yours was, like… puffy-eyed toddler crying.”

“Ellie.” You narrowed your eyes, but the corners of your lips betrayed you, pulling upward despite yourself. “You were shaking so bad you nearly dropped the ring in the dirt.”

Her ears went pink, and she bit the inside of her cheek, caught. “…Maybe. Doesn’t matter. You said yes anyway.”

There it was. The humor slipped under her words like sunlight behind a cloud, warm but edged with shadow. You felt it settle in your chest—that familiar ache, that undercurrent that no amount of joking could fully drown out.

“Of course I said yes,” you whispered, your voice softening as you squeezed her hand again. The IV tugged uncomfortably at your arm, a reminder of where you were, of why she’d rushed here in the first place. “There was never a world where I wouldn’t.”

Ellie looked at you then—really looked at you—and her smile cracked open into something rawer. She lifted your hand and pressed her lips against your knuckles, lingering there as if trying to memorize the shape of you, the warmth of you, as though the ring wasn’t enough proof you were hers.

“You better not scare me like this again,” she murmured against your skin. Her tone was light, but the way her thumb trembled against your hand told the truth.

You swallowed hard, throat tight. The monitor kept beeping its steady rhythm, the sound a fragile anchor in the quiet. “I’ll try,” you said with a little smile, though you both knew trying wasn’t always enough.

Ellie leaned back just enough to see your face, her eyes searching, tracing, drinking you in like she couldn’t quite believe you were here, whole and breathing. Then, finally, she exhaled, the tension in her chest loosening just enough to let a faint grin return.

“Still cried like a baby, though,” she muttered, breaking the heaviness with a smirk.

You laughed, shaking your head. “And you still proposed like a disaster.”

Her grin widened, crooked and stubborn, but the hand holding yours never let go. And it never would.

The scene cut like a jump in a reel: from the dim hush of your hospital room to the sterile brightness of the hospital’s gift shop. The air smelled faintly of plastic wrapping and faint perfume sprays, all the bouquets lined up in stiff buckets against the wall, their colors too cheerful for the place they lived in.

Ellie stood in the middle of it all, hands jammed deep into the pockets of her hoodie, looking about as out of place as a wolf in a candy store. She scowled at the flowers as though they’d personally offended her.

There were roses—too formal. Lilies—too funeral. Carnations—she wrinkled her nose. Then her eyes caught on a small, shy cluster of daisies tucked in between louder blooms. Their white petals looked like little suns, simple and unpretentious, and something in her chest loosened.

“Of course,” she muttered to herself, almost rolling her eyes at how obvious it was. “You’d pick the damn daisies.”

The clerk behind the counter glanced at her nervously as Ellie awkwardly tugged the bouquet from its bucket, nearly knocking a few others over in the process. She righted them with one hand, ears going pink as she muttered a rough, “Sorry.”

“Gift for someone?” the clerk asked gently, trying to fill the silence.

Ellie shot him a look, sharp enough to make him stiffen. “What’s it look like?” Then she softened a fraction, guilt flashing across her face. “Yeah. For—uh. My fiancée.” The word felt strange on her tongue, like it hadn’t quite settled into her vocabulary yet. But saying it made her chest feel warm, too, like the sound itself was enough to steady her.

The clerk smiled, rang her up without another word. Ellie slapped a few bills on the counter, not even waiting for change before she grabbed the daisies and shoved her way back toward the hall.

By the time she hit the elevator, the scowl had slipped off her face, leaving only the truth beneath it: the way her fingers curled too tightly around the bouquet, as though holding it wrong would break the fragile stems. She leaned back against the elevator wall, eyes closing for a second, the cool metal biting at her shoulders.

When the doors opened, she straightened, adjusting her grip on the bouquet, and headed back upstairs.

Because if you were going to be stuck in a place like this, the least she could do was bring you a little piece of the world you loved.

Ellie’s boots clicked softly against the hospital floor as she walked, bouquet in hand, and for a fleeting second, it almost felt normal. The smell of antiseptic lingered sharp in her nose, but the daisies in her palm cut through it with their faint sweetness, grounding her. They were simple flowers, not extravagant, not showy—just soft white petals and golden centers, humble and honest. They looked like you. They felt like you.

She imagined the scene before her like a film reel she had already watched a hundred times in her mind: she’d walk in, you’d look up from whatever boring daytime TV they had you watching, your lips would curve into that grin that always cracked her ribcage open, and you’d tease her for being predictable. “Daisies, huh? On brand, Williams.”

That was the reel in her head.

But then reality tore it apart.

Two nurses came sprinting past her, the urgency in their steps sharp enough to cut through her haze of thought. Ellie froze mid-step, stomach hollowing out, before her brain caught up with her body. They weren’t just sprinting anywhere. They were sprinting there. Toward your room.

The bouquet slipped slightly in her grip, petals folding under the sudden force of her hand as she clutched them like a lifeline. Her throat tightened. The hallway around her blurred, tunneled, as if the walls were closing in, as if the fluorescent lights above were glaring just at her.

Her chest seized. No air. Just dread.

And then she was running.

The bouquet battered against her thigh with every frantic step, stems bruising, petals scattering. She could feel her pulse in her teeth, her ears, every inch of her body screaming go, go, go. By the time she reached the door, the nurses had already disappeared inside, swallowed up by chaos.

She shoved herself through the gap just before it closed.

“Ma’am, you can’t be here—” a nurse’s voice snapped, sharp like a whip.

Ellie didn’t even look at her.

Because there you were.

And nothing in her life had ever hurt like seeing you like that.

You were small against the bed, the patient gown hanging too loose on your body, wires and tubes snaking around you like cruel restraints. Your face was so pale it looked drained of all its warmth, as if someone had taken the sun out of you. The heart monitor beside your bed was screaming, a shrill alarm cutting through the room, the jagged green line spiking and dipping like a storm-tossed sea.

Her heart plummeted straight to the floor.

She felt her knees weaken, like her body was considering collapse, betrayal under the weight of her fear.

“No… no, no, no, no…” The words came out strangled, broken shards of sound. Her throat burned. She didn’t even realize she was moving closer, shouldering past a nurse’s outstretched arm until she was almost at the foot of the bed. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

The voices around her blurred together—

 “—she’s tachycardic—”

 “—possible arrest, grab the crash cart—”

 “—start prepping—”

Ellie’s brain couldn’t translate any of it. The only language she knew was you. And right now, you looked like you were slipping through her fingers.

Her hand shook violently around the bouquet, stems snapping beneath her grip, petals tearing like paper. The daisies—the little symbol of everything good, everything you—were being crushed in her fist, ruined in her desperation.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to tear the machines away, to beg you to just look at her, to remember that you promised forever, that she promised she’d never let anything happen to you. She wanted to bargain with every god she never believed in. Take anything, take everything, just not her.

But her mouth only formed broken syllables. “Baby… please… please, no…”

She thought about the ring on your finger—the way it had caught the hospital light earlier, glinting like proof that the world could still be kind. She thought about daisies scattered across the ground the night she proposed, how you laughed and cried all at once. She thought about Daisy, your dog, sleeping back home, blissfully unaware that her namesake might be ripped away.

The monitor shrieked again, louder, higher. The nurses swarmed, their scrubs blurring in her vision. One reached for a tray. Another barked something about epinephrine. The beeps turned jagged, erratic, like the sound of her world fracturing into pieces.

Ellie couldn’t move. Her legs might as well have been cement. All she could do was stare, tears flooding so hot and fast that they blurred everything, dripping onto the broken bouquet in her hands. Her chest ached with every beat, a brutal reminder that hers was still working while yours threatened to give out.

And she realized, with the kind of clarity that split her open from the inside: daisies weren’t enough. Her hands weren’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough if it meant losing you.

So she stood there, sobbing silent, shaking like the world itself was ending—because for her, it was.

Because if you slipped away now, nothing would ever bring her back either.

A sharp, serrated gasp tore through the room—thin, wheezing, as though your lungs had forgotten how to be lungs.

Ellie froze, heart jackhammering so violently it hurt, her head whipping toward you. Your body shifted weakly against the mattress, trembling, and your hand… your hand tried to lift. It barely made it an inch, shaking violently under the strain, but the intent was unmistakable. That silent plea: Ellie, come here.

The flowers fell from her hands, stems snapping as they scattered across the floor. White petals floated down like snow in slow motion, like some cruel parody of the daisies you loved. Ellie didn’t feel the fall of them. Didn’t even hear the crash of glass against tile. She was already moving, shoving past the nurses, eyes burning tunnels into you.

Her knees nearly buckled as she reached the bedside. She grabbed your hand with both of hers, clutching it like she could tether you to this plane of existence. Your skin was icy, your pulse a faint stutter beneath her thumb. She pressed frantic kisses across your knuckles, over the glinting ring, as though she could breathe life back into you by sheer will.

Your eyelids fluttered, heavy, your gaze struggling to meet hers. But when it did—when those glassy, drowning eyes locked onto Ellie’s—time split in two. Nurses’ voices blurred into static. Machines wailed, their jagged alarms clawing at the edges of her mind. But none of it mattered. All that mattered was you.

And then—God—your lips curved. Just barely. A trembling shadow of a smile, fighting its way through agony. It shattered Ellie to pieces.

“Els…” The word scraped out of you like gravel dragged across glass. Your voice cracked halfway through, breaking apart, your throat seizing as another cough ripped from you. You choked, your whole body shaking under the force, and Ellie felt her insides collapse.

“I—I love—” another wrenching cough cut you off, your hand twitching violently in hers. Tears streamed down your cheeks, pooling beneath your jaw as you gasped for air. Still, you tried again, voice shredded and trembling. “I… l-love you, Els.”

It was half-swallowed by pain, but Ellie heard it, and it caved her chest in. She bent over your hand, sobbing into your skin, her tears hot against your cold fingers. “Don’t—don’t talk like that, baby. Please. You’re fine, you’re okay. Just hold on. Please.”

Your head moved weakly side to side, barely a shake, but it gutted her. Your lips quivered, your throat working furiously as though your body was betraying you, denying you breath. Then, with every ounce of what little strength remained, you forced out one more sentence, fractured, broken in pieces:

“You… you c-complete…” Your voice cracked, faltered, your chest hitching violently. Another choked gasp. Another cough that sounded like it ripped your lungs raw. “…me, Els.”

The words splintered in the air between you, so small, so fragile—but they struck Ellie like a war drum. Her sob caught like a snare in her chest, her tears dripping onto the ring that still glinted defiantly under the hospital lights.

“No—no, don’t you fucking dare say that like it’s the last time,” Ellie pleaded, her voice wrecked, desperation ripping her throat to shreds. She leaned so close her forehead pressed against yours, her tears smearing across your temple. “You’re not going anywhere. Do you hear me? You’re mine. You’re mine, and I need you. I need you like air, like blood, like—I can’t—I can’t live without you.”

Your breathing stuttered violently beneath the words, jagged little gasps slipping through your lips like glass shards. Tears welled in your eyes again, spilling hot, unchecked, your body too weak to even wipe them away.

Still, your gaze held hers. So soft, so unwavering despite the storm tearing through you. And in those blurred, watery seconds, Ellie knew—you were trying to memorize her. Her face. Her freckles. Her tears. Her soul.

The monitor screamed again, jagged spikes painting terror in green across the screen. The nurses’ voices rose in urgent unison, a tangle of commands and clipped medical jargon. But Ellie didn’t flinch. She didn’t move. She couldn’t.

Her world was right here, in your trembling hand wrapped weakly inside her own, in the faint press of your knuckles against her lips, in the desperate flicker of your smile through tears.

“Stay with me,” she begged, voice breaking into a sob so deep it echoed in her bones. “Please, stay. Please, don’t leave me. I’ll do anything, anything you want, just—just don’t let go.”

Your lips parted, a final tremor of sound caught between a gasp and a whisper. “Els…” You coughed sharply, violently, your whole body convulsing for air. “…p-promise me…” The last word cracked, splitting apart as tears poured freely down your face. “…don’t f-forget me.”

Ellie’s scream lodged in her chest. She collapsed further against you, kissing your damp temple, your knuckles, every inch she could reach. “Never,” she sobbed. “Never, never, I swear, you hear me? You’re in my blood. You’re in my bones. You’re in everything. You’re not leaving me. Not now, not ever.”

The ring caught the light once more between you, glinting like a cruel reminder—of the promise, of the life you’d sworn to build, of the daisies, of everything teetering on the edge of loss.

Your lips trembled, forcing air into words that were thinner than smoke. “Els…” Your throat worked, swallowing around the pain, your breaths jagged. “…say h-hi… to Daisy… f-for me.” Another cough ripped through, shaking your chest, your hand spasming weakly in hers. Your eyes welled again, a watery little smile tugging faintly at your lips. “…tell her… n-not to pee… on the carpet… again.”

The laugh Ellie gave was not a laugh at all. It was a strangled sob, ripped from her lungs like a piece of her soul. Tears fell in torrents down her cheeks, soaking into the hand she held so tight it was as though she could fuse her flesh to yours. She bent her head against your knuckles, shaking, her whole body wracked with grief.

“God, baby—why would you… why would you say that?” she whimpered, voice splintered. “You’ll tell her yourself. You will. You’ll walk in the door and Daisy’ll jump all over you and—and you’ll laugh and yell at her for getting your clothes dirty and—” her breath broke, trembling into the shape of a sob, “—you’ll tell her yourself, I swear it.”

But the machines disagreed.

The monitor shrieked, shrill and merciless, and the nurses surged forward. A wall of bodies in scrubs, sharp commands cutting the air like bullets. “We need space! Move her!”

Hands clamped around Ellie’s arms, wrenching her back. She fought like a wounded animal, thrashing so violently that one nurse grunted in pain from her elbow. “NO! I’M NOT LEAVING HER!” Ellie screamed, the words rasping from her throat until they were raw, until they tasted like copper.

Her grip on your hand faltered as more hands tore at her, dragging her back inch by inch. She clawed at the sheets, at the bed rail, at anything to anchor herself to you. Your fingers slipped, knuckle by knuckle, until only your pinky clung desperately to hers.

Then nothing.

Ellie’s scream broke the ceiling. It ripped the sterile air to shreds, guttural and cracked and wholly inhuman, the kind of scream born from something deeper than lungs, deeper than voice. Nurses struggled to contain her, two at her arms and one at her waist, but she thrashed with a strength that came from raw panic, her boots kicking the tiles, teeth bared in grief.

“DON’T TAKE ME! LET ME GO—I NEED HER!” she bellowed, spitting fire and tears alike.

And because they were so occupied restraining her, because Ellie refused to give up an inch of ground, only three doctors made it to your side. Just three pairs of hands working frantically over your body. Just three voices barking orders into the void.

The heart monitor began to falter, the jagged green line stumbling across the screen. Beep. Beep. Beep—

Ellie’s chest heaved, the sound of her own sobs drowning in the storm of commands and rattling instruments. She strained against the iron hold of the nurses, her neck stretched so she could keep her eyes on you, always on you. “Y/N! BABY! Please, I’m right here! Don’t let go, don’t—”

And then silence.

The heart monitor flatlined into one single, unbroken tone.

It pierced the room like a blade, sharp and merciless, a sound that seemed to slice Ellie’s very spine in two. Her knees buckled under her, her body folding as if someone had punched the life out of her. The nurses barely held her upright as she let out a cry so ragged it tore at the walls.

“NO! NO, NO, NO, BRING HER BACK! DO SOMETHING!” she shrieked, her voice cracking, breaking apart, shattering into jagged edges. Her face was soaked in tears, her skin blotchy and red, her lips trembling so hard she could barely form the words. “You can’t—she can’t—she’s my everything, please!”

She lunged again, feral, breaking half free from their grip, reaching for you as if sheer willpower could restart your heart. Her fingertips brushed the sheets, the faintest whisper of contact—before she was yanked back again, screaming and kicking like the world itself had betrayed her.

Her eyes never left your face. The sight of you lying still, gown wrinkled, lashes wet from tears that would never fall again—it carved itself into her memory with brutal permanence.

And all around her, the silence stretched—broken only by the long, merciless drone of the monitor, the single sound of finality. 

Flatline.

THREE YEARS LATER.

The world had no right to be this bright.

Ellie squinted against it, a frown pulling at her mouth as the sky stretched wide and blue above her, not a single cloud in sight. The sun hung there like it had been forged to mock her, spilling golden light over cracked pavement, bouncing sharp off the glass windows of passing storefronts. The air was warm, buzzing faintly with cicadas and laughter from strangers, with the clatter of dishes in open patios. A perfect day.

The kind of day you would’ve loved.

The kind of day you would’ve dragged her outside for, saying it would be a crime to waste sunshine this soft, this honey-sweet. She could almost hear you now—teasing her for being stubborn, calling her a vampire for squinting at the light. You’d tilt your chin up toward the sky and tell her, like it was some kind of secret, “It feels like the sun’s kissing us, Els.”

Now, Ellie only felt burned.

Ellie’s hands tightened inside her jacket pockets. Jacket—thick, heavy, suffocating. It was too hot for it, sweat prickled at the back of her neck, but she refused to shed it. The weight of fabric was easier to deal with than the weight of remembering.

Anything to dull the sharp edge of this unrelenting day.

But nothing dulled that.

The silver band on her left hand.

It caught the sunlight with every step, winking cruelly when her fingers shifted on Daisy’s leash. Simple, plain, perfect—the same ring she’d slipped on your finger in a field of daisies three years and a lifetime ago. She wore it still, defiantly, in the spot it belonged. It wasn’t just jewellery; it was tether, it was anchor, it was wound. She caught strangers’ eyes lingering on it sometimes, a flash of pity or curiosity flickering across their faces when they noticed the ring without the bride. She never took it off.

Daisy trotted happily at her side, nails tapping the pavement, tail swishing in lazy arcs. Her ears perked every so often as though she still half-expected you to come around the corner, voice lilting with laughter, arms outstretched to scoop her up. The sight of her—still loyal, still warm—was a comfort Ellie clung to, and at the same time, a knife twisted deeper.

Because Daisy had been yours too.

And just like Ellie, she’d lost you.

Ellie’s lips pressed into a hard line, and she glanced up at the sun again with something close to hatred. The light was the same shade it had been that last morning with you. The same color that once drenched your hair, painted your skin with gold. The same brightness you’d loved to bask in.

It felt obscene now.

She pulled Daisy’s leash tighter when the dog veered toward a tree, urging her along, until they rounded the corner—and stopped dead.

There it was.

The fajita shack.

It hadn’t changed much. Red paint still peeled from the siding in ragged strips. The same crooked awning sagged lower than before, edges unraveling into thread. The chalkboard out front leaned lazily against the wall, its messy letters announcing: Today’s Special – 2-for-1 Chicken Fajitas!

The smell hit her like a blow.

Peppers, onions, sizzling meat. The tang of lime carried on warm air. It wrapped around her like memory, yanking her backward so fast she nearly stumbled.

You were there. She could see you so clearly—propped up on one of those cheap plastic chairs, chin resting in your hand, grinning wide with a smear of salsa you refused to wipe away. You’d laughed when she teased you, laughed harder when you stole from her plate, laughed loudest when she finally leaned over to kiss the taste of smoke and spice from your mouth.

The ring on her hand seemed to weigh ten times heavier.

Daisy tugged at the leash again, nails scraping impatiently, and when Ellie glanced down, the dog looked up at her with wide brown eyes. For a second—just a second—Ellie swore Daisy remembered too.

Her chest seized. Her boots stuck to the pavement. Every instinct told her to keep walking. To save herself from drowning in it again.

But the pull was too strong.

Her lips parted, the words falling into the heat between her teeth like she was trying to rationalize it: “Wouldn’t hurt to check it out again.”

The words tasted like a lie.

She pushed the door open. The brass bell above it jingled cheerfully, and she stepped inside. 

The smell was stronger, wrapping around her lungs until she couldn’t breathe. The low murmur of voices, the clatter of forks on cheap plates, the faint sizzle from the kitchen—it was all exactly the same. Too much the same.

Her hand twitched at her side, the ring flashing in the light like it knew where she was. Like it remembered too.

Ellie froze in the doorway. For a heartbeat, she saw you—spinning lazily on a counter stool, eyes lighting up when she finally walked in.

But the stool was empty.

They all were.

Her fingers twitched against the leash, the silver band flashing once in the light. Daisy sniffed at her boots, whining softly as if urging her to move.

Ellie sighed, the sound rough and jagged in her throat. Too much. She couldn’t do this. Not today. Not with the sun burning holes in her skin and memories clawing her apart. She turned toward the door, shoulders heavy, jaw set.

“Need anything?”

The voice stopped her cold.

For half a second she could’ve sworn it was you—your voice carried on the air, tugging her back into the living. But when she turned, reality greeted her instead.

Behind the counter stood a woman.

Dark hair fell over her shoulders, catching the glow of the overhead lights in a way that made it look almost silky. Her skin held the warmth of sun-kissed tones, her eyes round and kind but sharp enough to notice. She wasn’t smiling in the way people smile at strangers because they have to. No, this one was different—smaller, quieter, the kind of smile that made Ellie feel… seen, even if only for a heartbeat.

Ellie blinked. Once. Twice. Her throat worked around a reply, but her instinct was to retreat. To wave off the question, mutter no, thanks, and walk out before the smell of sizzling fajitas buried her alive in memories of the night you’d dragged her here on a whim.

She almost did. The word no sat at the tip of her tongue, sharp and defensive. But then—Daisy, damn dog—perked her ears at the sound of the woman’s voice.

And maybe it was that. Or maybe it was the ring pressing against her skin on her left hand, the metal hot from the sun, reminding her she was still tethered to something even if you were gone. Or maybe it was just bone-deep exhaustion, three years of grief grinding her down until the thought of rejecting someone’s simple kindness felt impossible.

So instead, Ellie forced herself to look up. Her voice was hoarse, but steady enough. “Yeah. Uh… sure.”

The woman’s smile widened, not dazzling, not forced—just genuine. The kind of smile that warmed rather than burned. She wiped her palms on a rag, stepped out from behind the counter, and picked up a menu.

Ellie sank into a booth before she could second-guess herself, the cracked vinyl sticking to her jeans, the table cool under her calloused palms. She felt… restless. Like she’d walked herself into a mistake, but too tired to crawl back out of it.

The woman came closer, her steps unhurried, balanced in a way that told Ellie she wasn’t nervous about the silence hanging between them. When she leaned forward to set the menu on the table, Ellie caught the faintest whiff of soap—lavender maybe, or something softer, mixed with coffee grounds and a hint of spice from the grill.

Ellie didn’t mean to look. But her eyes dropped anyway, catching on the small rectangle of plastic pinned to her shirt.

Dina.

The letters hit her chest like a punch and a caress all at once. Simple. Ordinary. Yet for reasons she couldn’t pin down, Ellie’s throat tightened, her breath stuttering against her ribs. She stared too long, she knew, but couldn’t drag her eyes away.

“Menu’s all yours,” Dina said softly, her voice carrying none of the pity Ellie had gotten used to. No careful tones. No hushed sympathy. Just… normal.

Ellie swallowed hard, her pulse hammering in her ears.

Normal.

She hadn’t felt that in years.

She tightened her hand around the leash, the silver band on her finger glinting beneath the fluorescent lights. Daisy huffed, tail brushing against her shin like a push.

Ellie let out a shaky breath, finally lifting her eyes to meet Dina’s.

“Uh… what d’you recommend?”

It was simple, clumsy. A filler question. But it pulled a small laugh out of Dina, and the sound rolled warm through Ellie’s chest like a sip of whiskey.

“Well,” Dina leaned against the table’s edge, tapping her finger thoughtfully against the menu, “the fajitas are kind of the star here. But personally? I’d go with the quesabirria tacos. Messy, but worth it.”

Ellie’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile, more like a reflex she couldn’t control. The way Dina said it—teasing, casual, like they’d known each other longer than thirty seconds—gnawed at her defenses.

Messy, huh? Figures,” Ellie muttered, her voice low but carrying a trace of amusement.

“Yeah,” Dina said, head tilting just slightly as her gaze flicked to Daisy, who was sprawled at Ellie’s feet, tail thumping against the tile. “Guessing you’re not afraid of a little mess.”

Ellie’s breath caught, chest tightening as though the words had an echo only she could hear. A mess—God, she’d been nothing but one for three years. She almost wanted to laugh at the irony, but her throat locked up. Instead, she busied herself with scratching Daisy’s head, avoiding Dina’s eyes.

“You could say that,” she murmured, words heavy, but Dina didn’t press.

There was something in the way Dina’s gaze softened—curiosity without intrusion, kindness without pity. It made Ellie uncomfortable and oddly… steady at the same time.

“So,” Dina said after a beat, shifting her weight, “what’ll it be? The safe bet, or the messy option?”

Ellie hesitated. For years, every choice had felt like a test she was destined to fail—eat or don’t eat, stay or leave, breathe or suffocate. And now here she was, staring at a menu, asked to pick between fajitas and tacos, and it felt bigger than it should.

Her eyes slipped to her left hand, the silver band catching the light. For a heartbeat, the air around her thickened—your voice in her memory, teasing her about always ordering the same damn thing, always playing it safe. “Come on, Els, live a little.”

Her chest ached. She let out a breath that trembled just barely, then looked back up at Dina.

“Messy,” Ellie said finally, the word a little shaky, but there.

Dina’s smile widened, not triumphant, not gloating—just warm, like sunrise after too many nights of rain.

“Good choice.”

Ellie sat stiffly, shoulders bunched as if she were bracing for impact. The menu Dina had set down lay untouched, words still swimming, but she kept her eyes fixed on it anyway, pretending to read. Her finger traced the laminated edge over and over until she realized she was doing it and forced her hand flat on the table.

Dina returned a few minutes later with a glass of water and a basket of chips, sliding them onto the table with easy grace. “On the house,” she said, flashing that same disarming smile. “Figured you and your girl could use a snack.”

At her feet, Daisy lifted her head at the word snack, ears pricking, tail drumming against the floor. Ellie huffed out a breath that might’ve been a laugh, if not for how brittle it sounded.

“She’s spoiled enough,” Ellie muttered, but still broke off a chip, letting Daisy crunch it between her teeth.

“Guess that makes two of you,” Dina teased lightly, before adding, softer, “She’s beautiful.”

Ellie glanced down at Daisy, who had laid her chin on Ellie’s boot, amber eyes content. A knot pulled tight in Ellie’s throat. She’d say the same thing. She’d say Daisy was beautiful. She always did.

“Yeah,” Ellie said after a long pause, her voice almost a whisper. “She is.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. Dina seemed to understand—like she wasn’t going to pry, wasn’t going to fill the air just to hear herself talk. Instead, she gave Ellie the space to breathe. It was unsettling, how much that small act mattered.

When the food came, the table filled with sizzling plates, the steam curling up in fragrant waves. The tacos were exactly as promised—oozing with melted cheese, dripping with broth that threatened to stain Ellie’s hands the second she touched them. She stared at them like they were some kind of puzzle.

“Best way to eat ’em,” Dina said, sliding a small bowl of consommé closer, “is to dip first, bite second. Don’t worry about looking pretty. No one ever does.”

Ellie raised a brow, smirk tugging faintly at her lips. “Yeah? You sayin’ I don’t look pretty?”

Dina grinned, eyes sparking. “I’m saying you’ll be covered in sauce in about two minutes, and I don’t want you blaming me for it.”

For the first time in a long, long while, Ellie let herself chuckle—low and quiet, but real. It slipped out before she could stop it, and the sound startled her. She hadn’t heard her own laughter in so long that it almost didn’t sound like hers.

She ate slowly, awkwardly at first, until the food distracted her enough that she forgot to be self-conscious. For a fleeting stretch of minutes, it was just Ellie, Daisy, and a stranger with kind eyes who didn’t expect anything of her except to exist in the moment.

But grief had a way of sneaking in, even through cracks of warmth. Halfway through her second taco, Ellie caught sight of the ring on her left hand again—silver dulled with time, the light catching just so. Her chest constricted. She could almost hear your voice, teasing her about sauce on her chin, reaching across the table to wipe it away with a napkin.

Her appetite faltered. She set the taco down carefully, fingers trembling.

“You okay?” Dina asked gently, noticing the shift. Not pushing, not intruding—just offering.

Ellie swallowed hard, throat burning as if she’d eaten glass. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, because how the hell could she explain? How could she tell this stranger that the tacos, the laughter, the sunlight—all of it—felt like betrayal?

“Yeah,” she muttered finally, voice hoarse. “Just… messy.”

Dina studied her for a moment, then nodded, accepting the answer without pressing further. That kindness—quiet, steady—hit Ellie harder than any question would have.

They sat in silence after that, Ellie picking at the edge of her plate, Dina occasionally checking on other customers but always returning to Ellie’s table with a smile that said she noticed without demanding. And slowly, ever so slowly, Ellie felt something loosen—not healed, not fixed, but less suffocating.

When she finally stood to leave, Daisy at her side, Ellie glanced back once. Dina was behind the counter again, laughing at something another customer said, her smile bright as the sun.

Ellie’s chest ached. She slipped her hands into her jacket pockets, thumb brushing against the wedding band that never left her finger. The guilt was sharp, but beneath it, hidden like a seed in dirt, was something else—something she wasn’t ready to name.

TWO MONTHS LATER...

The grass pressed cool against Ellie’s legs, damp enough to darken the fabric of her jeans. She didn’t care. She never cared when she came here. The little clearing was quiet except for the breeze stirring the branches, their leaves clattering together like hushed whispers. Daisy had long since flopped down beside her, tongue lolling, the rise and fall of her chest slow and steady against Ellie’s thigh.

Ellie picked at a patch of grass, twisting the blades between her fingers before tossing them aside. She swallowed hard, her voice coming out low and hesitant, as though she needed to test the air before letting the words leave her.

“So, uh… yeah. I’ve been doing okay, I guess. Some days better than others.” She chuckled weakly, but it came out hollow, like an echo that never found its source. “Yesterday, Daisy chased a squirrel up a tree and got stuck trying to climb after it. Can you imagine that? Her dumb paws slipping all over the bark. I had to scoop her up before she fell on her ass.” Ellie scratched Daisy’s head, receiving a lazy tail thump in return. “You would’ve laughed. You always laughed at the stupidest shit.”

Her gaze drifted skyward, squinting at how mercilessly bright the sun was. A glare she’d come to resent. “It’s been sunny. Too sunny, if you ask me. I hate it. Feels like the sky’s mocking me or something—like it doesn’t give a damn that you’re not here. And every time the light hits just right, I remember you. You in the morning, squinting through the blinds, always saying the sun was your alarm clock before I dragged you out of bed. You loved it. I… can’t stand it now.”

Ellie’s hand slipped to her knee, fingers twitching, restless. “I’ve been trying to keep busy. Fixing little things around the house, changing out the strings on my guitar, patching the fence in the backyard. Doesn’t matter. Everything feels… quiet. Like the whole place is holding its breath, waiting for you to come home and fill it again.”

Her voice cracked. She tried to clear her throat, to pull it back together, but the sound clung like barbed wire. “And when I do play guitar? It doesn’t sound the same. Feels like half the song is missing.”

Daisy whined, pressing her nose into Ellie’s leg, as if sensing her unease. Ellie stroked her fur absently, eyes locked on the stone in front of her. She reached out, brushing away a cluster of dead leaves caught at its base, her fingertips lingering against the cold surface.

“I still wear it, you know,” she whispered, lifting her hand slightly, the silver band catching a shard of sunlight. “Every day. Right where it belongs. Can’t bring myself to take it off. People notice sometimes—they look, and I can tell they wanna ask. But they don’t. Guess they’re too scared of the answer.”

She let out a sharp, uneven laugh, shaking her head. “Hell, I don’t even know what the answer is. I just know I can’t take it off. It’s you. And if I take it off, I’m scared of what that means.”

The silence stretched, thick and unbearable. Ellie filled it the only way she knew how—by talking, even if no one responded.

“You’d be proud of Daisy, though. She’s been keeping me going. She doesn’t let me skip her walks, no matter how much I wanna just stay in bed. She still hogs the covers. She still looks at me like I hung the moon, even though I’m barely keeping it together. Sometimes, when it’s dark, I swear she’s the only thing keeping me from… from falling apart completely.”

Her voice wavered, tears welling hot behind her eyes. She dropped her head, pressing her forehead into her hands, breathing hard through the ache that bloomed in her chest. “God, I miss you,” she whispered, her words breaking apart like glass shattering. “I miss you so fucking much.”

Ellie let the silence fall again, raw and merciless, before dragging her hand across the cool stone once more. Only then did the reveal sharpen into focus—the gravestone carved with your name, anchored deep into the earth.

You.

She tilted her head toward it, speaking so softly it barely rose above the rustle of leaves. “I.. I’ve met someone,” She swallowed, tugging at the torn thread of her pants. “She’s nice, works in that little fajita shack we used to go to..” Ellie leaned her head back with a trembled sigh, watery lashes shutting tight. “Real patient, you know? But I don’t... I—I don’t think I can let go of you just yet..”

Ellie let out a shaky breath, the kind that rattled through her ribs like broken glass, sharp and uneven. Her chest heaved, but no sound followed—just silence, thick and crushing, until even Daisy’s steady breathing seemed too loud. She sat there consumed, swallowed whole by her own thoughts. Every one of them began and ended with you. Every memory was a loop, a noose tightening around her heart.

Her trembling hand drifted toward the silver band clinging faithfully to her skin. For a long, suspended moment, she stared at it—the way it had dulled over the years, the way it still felt heavier than anything else she carried. With a deep inhale, she slid it from her left hand, her thumb hesitating as if it might burn her to let it go. Then, in a single trembling exhale, she slipped it onto her right.

The gesture was small. Simple. But to Ellie, it felt like moving mountains. Her entire body broke open around it. A sob tore through her throat, raw and unrelenting, and she doubled over, pressing her forehead to the ring like it was a holy relic, like your touch was still stored in the cool curve of the metal. Her tears streaked her skin, wetting the band as if anointing it with the weight of everything she’d never get to say.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered hoarsely, the words muffled against her trembling hand. “I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know how to do this without you.”

For a moment, there was nothing. Just the sound of her own grief, fractured and unsteady, filling the clearing.

And then—soft, fragile, improbable—a flash of movement. A butterfly, wings painted in delicate strokes of pale blue and white, drifted lazily into her orbit. Ellie blinked through her tears, dazed, as it circled Daisy. The dog lifted her head curiously, nose twitching, tail giving the faintest thump against the grass. The butterfly danced around Daisy’s ears, flitting like laughter in the air, before it changed course.

Ellie’s breath hitched as it hovered, close enough for her to feel the faint beat of its wings against the air. Then—gentle as a secret—it landed on the tip of her nose.

For a heartbeat, Ellie froze. Her lungs forgot how to work, her tears stilled, and all she could do was stare cross-eyed at this fragile thing resting so fearlessly against her. Something cracked inside her chest—not pain this time, but release. The tiniest piece of something she hadn’t felt in three years.

Her laugh stumbled out, uneven and broken, tangled in sobs. It shook through her, trembling, almost hysterical, but it was laughter nonetheless. A sound she hadn’t known she was capable of anymore. The butterfly clung stubbornly to her nose, as if refusing to be brushed away, and Ellie pressed her palm against her mouth, muffling her laugh like she was afraid to scare it off.

The ring gleamed faintly on her right hand as she lowered it, her tears still streaming but her chest loosening, just enough to breathe.

“Is that you?” she whispered, voice cracking but softer now. “Tellin’ me it’s okay? That I can… that I can keep going?”

The butterfly fluttered once, twice, before lifting off, weightless and free. It hovered in front of her face, catching the sunlight like a sliver of stained glass, then drifted up, up, and away into the blue. Ellie’s eyes followed until she couldn’t anymore, until all she saw was the endless sky—the same sky you used to love, the same one she used to hate.

For the first time, she didn’t.

Ellie sat there in the grass, Daisy pressed close to her side, the gravestone quiet but no longer suffocating. The ring was warm against her right hand now, not heavy, not binding—just present. A reminder, not a chain.

And though her tears hadn’t stopped, Ellie found herself breathing just a little easier, as if the world had finally loosened its grip around her throat. As if, somewhere in the rustling leaves and the fading whisper of wings, you had found a way to tell her what she needed most.

That it was okay to let go.

That it was okay to live.

perm taglist: @applejusue @mars4hellokitty @sewithinsouls @hitmehardmommy @sllushii @katherinesmirnova @noliaswaves @kingofeyeliner @satellitespinner @azxteria @elliescoquettegirl @liztreez @elliewilliams-wife @h2pinky @nsrvaii @andieprincessofpower @iadorefineshyt @thxtmarvelchick @miajooz @ch6douin @rhian88 @valeisaslut @savagestarlight28 @ferxanda @solace-xx @eriiwaiii2 @yashirawr @nawllas @monki-nat @jomamaonthebeat @ellsbigshoes @ellieskitty @the-sick-habit ++ comment to be added!! ♡

a/n: IT'S DONEE YAYYAYYAYYYYY,, i'm so sorry for not posting in literally a whole month, but hopefully this makes up for it <3 tbh i've never really tried to write something that's almost completely angst, but this may just be one of my most favourite works i've ever completed 🙂‍↕️ tysm to everyone who read this insanely long fic, your patience is SOSOSOSOOSOSOOOOOO APPRECIATED 🤍🤍🤍

[applejusue]

call me crazy but I needddddd more dealer!ellie she is my addiction!!!

love your writing! sending love 💕

Aww thank you! Don't worry, I'm already working on more dealer!ellie ૮꒰ “. . ꒱ა

[applejusue]

standoffish awkward !Ellie x sweetheart reader lowkey Lorelei Gilmore humor, they eventually cross paths but don’t like each other at first…

oat milk i. ┆ part ii.

cw: barista!ellie, mom!reader, dislike turned fondness, fluff, mild angst.

Ellie scrambled around the small back end of the counter, trading steaming hot jugs for silver cups while hearing out new orders. It was Monday morning, floods of tickets dotting the staple and a line out the door of wayward souls needing a hit of caffeine before running to work. She faced many mornings like this ever since she took over Miller’s Coffee House, but the rush didn’t get much easier.

Jesse worked out back in the gum tin sized kitchen, pushing out breakfast plates and wrapped sandwiches while Ellie handled the front. Luckily he got to be alone, to concentrate behind a line with nobody out to piss him off ── Ellie didn’t have that luxury.

For the most part, the orders were simple like black coffee or honey tea. But then there were those who wanted a flourishing ten step latte at eight thirty-seven in the damn morning.

Her scruffed chestnut hair was tied back in a lopsided bun, strands frayed from both steam and stress as she fluttered about the counter. The apron around her waist was long stained with coffee beans and grease from the machine, arms splotched with kettle burns. Despite the heat and the rush, Ellie was focused, hands moving faster than her head.

The floor was a chain of people, business men in suits alike with girls in tartan skirts in desperate need of an iced frappuccino to get them through their early morning classes. Ellie barely paid them a spare glance, too focused instead on what they were ordering than the type of person that they were.

Double espresso.

Maple hazel iced latte.

Black americano.

Semi skimmed decaf.

Every minute Ellie turned her back, grabbing scalded plates from the hot counter and sliding them onto black trays alongside their assorted drink. She moved on autopilot ── calling out names over backed up chatter as customers fought through the line to collect their orders. Sweat collected ‘round her collar, sleeves rolled up to her elbows as she worked on each new ticket. 

The place was booming, but that was no surprise really. A quaint coffee house in the middle of Gilmore with all day breakfast and good coffee? Indispensable. Still, no amount of thrill and paychecks could balance the ache in her calves, the stinging heat on her skin whenever she got sloppy. It wasn’t easy, especially when customers decided to be a pain in her──

Ellie spun around, two beautifully leafed flat whites against her palm that looked about to cave any minute, steam seeping through her calloused fingers as she set them down on the tray. She slung her hand towel over her shoulder, allowing a single breath before looking up to her next battle. 

That’s when she noticed you, well ── noticed the fact that you were clutching a drink that she’d already made. 

Damn it to hell.

That was the last thing Ellie needed right now, some complaint over a drink that was complicated enough to begin with. It was hefty ── some pink latte matcha bullshit that you’d read off your phone, no doubt heard in LA that you decided you just had to have. She sighed, too wrapped up to even think of putting on a polite expression as she approached the counter, hand braced while the stained cloth still hung over her shoulder.

“What’s wrong with it?” Ellie’s voice nipped a bit too tight, defensive in demeanour and wondering what could possibly be wrong with an order that she’d made two minutes ago. Only then did she look up from what you were holding, expecting some form of coffee snob ready to correct. 

But then her eyes met yours, and she’d never wanted to take back her attitude so quick.

You stood like a deer in headlights, dark eyes staring into hers like you hadn’t planned what to say well enough. There were gentle lines around your nose, hair clinging warmly around your jaw that framed you prettier than she’d seen in a while. You looked to be about her age, older like she was and Ellie nearly cursed beneath her breath.

It was too late now though, the pent up frustration already spilled over her boiling rim, now warming down the sides the longer she looked at you. The queue was still bubbling, and she could practically see the inner dilemma she’d caused. You knew it was too late to back down, and still suddenly felt ten times smaller ── manicured hands clutching that pink cup so tight that the lid could blow off.

“I.. I asked for oat milk..” The sound of your voice was something Ellie didn’t get to hear often, sweet and honey dipped ‘round the edges. Your gaze was on her despite your wavering confidence, so different to the usual customers who barely looked up from their phones to order. 

God, how did she miss you?

Ellie watched, mouth dry as you slid the crumpled ticket over the counter along with the drink. She passed it up, eyes trailing over her sprawled chicken scratch. Oat milk. Her shoe tapped mindlessly beneath the counter, looking back up at you with softened brows that weren’t quite sure how to untense. 

“Sorry about that, sweetheart.. packed out today. I’ll get it fixed,” Ellie spoke above the chatter, reaching for a new cup and mentally slamming herself against the steam press because she’d expected a willing fight, something to complain to Jesse about later ── not a sweet thing like you that looked like you’d only just managed to get up and say something. 

Her eyes found their way to you as she shoved in ice, wrist circling syrup like it was second nature. You stood in an oversized knit cardigan, chewing on your lower lip and pretending to read over that white chalk menu that hung above the bar. She kept your order close beneath her chin, wanting it to be right on a day where she normally wouldn’t think twice. 

That’s when she noticed the second order, the chocolate fudge frappé that she’d served alongside your first drink ── you weren’t here alone. 

You smiled when she came back with the fresh latte, the real kind of smile ── and she just stared back like an idiot in a dirty apron. 

“Thank you, it’s for my daughter.. won’t drink it otherwise..” You muttered softly between a tired laugh, fishing out a small floral coin pouch. It took watching your gentle fingers rooting through coins before Ellie woke up again, quickly sliding the drink across the counter.

“Hey─ don’t worry ‘bout that, was my mistake..” She shook her head, leaned further over the till than usual and pretending it was just so you could hear her over the line. A few frayed strands of hair fell across her freckled forehead, eyes sunken into yours when you glanced up from your wallet. 

Another one of those smiles pulled open your teeth, eyes wrinkling at the edges as you reached for the drink. Having someone look at her like that, a pretty stranger no less, had her practically melting into the pastry counter ── floating like a damn cartoon. Still, Ellie had to reconsider.

You had a daughter, that probably meant you had a husband to match. 

That was until your french tipped fingers dipped back into your purse, scooping out some coins with those fluttering lashes that could rewire a hot press. Ellie’s face blew red as you leaned across the counter, dipping the loose change into her small scribbled ‘TIPS’ cup. She could almost taste that sugary scent that came along with you, vanilla caramel like a walking gooey toffee.

Ellie damn near leaned with you, hot in the collar as you grabbed the cup from the till with unringed fingers ── gaze locked on hers before giving her the cutest little wink. 

Her heart nearly toppled out onto the tray, like maybe you’d catch it if it did. 

You giggled, the sound floating over the pitch of the kettle and the crash of dishes in the washer, and the entire line could probably see the way Ellie swooned in real time. She barely managed an awkward thank you, shifting on her torn shoes as you walked away from the counter like it came natural. 

“Hello? Service please..” Jesse called from the kitchen, leaning over the hot counter and knowingly slamming the bell with a smirk that nearly had her whip him with the dirty towel. Ellie forced herself back into the rush, ignoring the smothering heat in her cheeks that wasn’t from the steamer anymore. 

a/n: im gonna be real ive only watched one episode of gilmore girls, but sweetheart reader calls to me like the green goblin mask◞ ◞

permanent taglist:

@zzelysian, @elliesfreckle, @mars4hellokitty, @satellitespinner, @valeisaslut, @andieprincessofpower, @liztreez, @azxteria, @iadorefineshyt, @vahnilla, @vixenkii, @the-sick-habit, @cupcakesyndromes, @elliescoquettegirl, @alien-catz-in-tuna-canz, @yashirawr, @slutforabbyanderson, @elliesfavwife, @rhian88.

[applejusue]

Have you read ‘Simple Living Things’ by vxsellie?

I actually haven't! It's one of those series' ive always been meaning to read but haven't gotten around to just yet. I love hunger games though, so it definitely is a must because i adore their account ღ

[applejusue]

champagne signaling.

cw: drunk reader, alcohol, comfort, soft.

The melody blared as you stumbled into the bar, room already whirling from the shots you’d taken in several other places within the last hour. Men jeered as you moved forward, jeering in their efforts to coax you towards the crammed bar.

You let out a low sigh, breath swallowed up by the humid air and hauled yourself up onto one of the metal stools. With your body bathed in an opaque mini-dress and stilettos sharp enough to draw blood, it was a wonder you could still walk in them. 

The dark red lipstick that stained your lips was now faded, smudged to the side of each glass that you pressed to your cupid. You’d lost your coat along the way, lip gloss and wallet now tucked into the side of your bra. It was really starting to hit that going out on the town alone wasn’t the cleverest idea ── especially now that it was getting harder to think straight. 

You were meant to call, knowing the woman waiting at home was probably held by the line. 

You gaped down into the sweating glass of champagne, on the house like the majority of your drinks tonight were. The ice swirled around amidst the bubbling liquid, dancing along from the thump of the bass. It was difficult to tear your eyes away from the movement, head swaying subconsciously. As you managed to pry your gaze from the glass, the room glittered around you with every sparkling LED glistening like you were floating in space. 

It almost made you giggle, like you could the colourful stars and let them carry you away. For a minute it felt like you really were floating, but as you drifted through the music ── something yanked you back down to earth. 

The side of your hip burned, ankles tore from your heel bending inward. You weren’t up in space anymore, instead plastered against the cold ground. It took you a minute to gather that, instead too focused on what sticky dirt was currently pressed to your bare calves. Your chipped acrylics scraped across the tile as you attempted to push yourself up, grazed balms stinging against the gritted floor. 

The glint of men’s teeth was near blinding, heavier were the stares that followed. Everything grew louder, music pummelling deep into your skull like a bludgeoned wrecking ball. It felt like your entire body was tilting inward, even though you’d barely moved an inch. Then, something warm grasped your shoulder ── gentle, familiar. 

It took some effort to get your jaw up, but soon you were staring up at a woman with the softest blue eyes, freckles dusted across the bridge of her nose. A smile spread across your lips unconsciously, too wrapped up within her frayed wheatgerm hair and that serious frown that often accompanied it. You’d know that grumpy face anywhere. 

Abby said something, lips moving but you couldn’t hear a thing. You were too busy staring, head spinning as she wrapped an arm beneath your waist and coaxed you up from the floor. As she guided you against her chest and briskly narrowed away from all those who had been staring, her warm smell smothered your dampened senses. Roasted hazelnut, cologne, a faint string of sweat. She probably wasn’t long out of the gym. 

You shamefully nosed into her neck as Abby attempted to nudge you into one of the booth seats, the red leather immediately glueing to your under thighs in a way that made you grimace. It still felt like you were seeing stars, the twinkling bar lights getting harsher beneath your strained lashes. Your girlfriend was still murmuring beside you, low and steady and most definitely telling you off while she opened her phone to hitch an uber.

That wasn’t really on your mind though, not when you knew you were safe.

Your hands roamed along her arms, that stubborn leathered jacket as you turned your face into her broad shoulder. Whatever she was scolding you for didn’t seem to last much longer, and as your eyes drooped shut heavily you could feel the gentle press of warm lips against your crown ── a contented sigh leaving your own. 

It felt like your eyes were only closed for a minute, but as you managed to pry them back open the room around was a lot darker. You squinted, pupils dilating and body still slouched against that warm and steady presence of your girlfriend. Judging by the stench of spirits and sticky leather beneath your legs, you hadn’t left the bar just yet.

The once overpowering music was now a soft drone, a dull croan against your head now that most had cleared out. One of the attendees swept the floor, headphones fasted while a few similar to you drifted in and out of sleep at the bar. Abby was still on her phone, face lit up and eyes scrunched in mellow drowsiness. When she felt you shifting she glanced down, pushing her phone back into her jacket.

“There she is..” Abby murmured softly, calloused fingers moving to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. You practically seeped into the touch, lips parted in a gentle breath of warm air as you gazed up at the taller woman. A soft, hazed smile blessed your lips once again when it really kicked in that she was here, that your girlfriend had no doubt came to get you when you didn’t show home.

Abby stared down at you, a small sigh escaping her lips as she gathered you closer. She wanted to be angry, to chime about how irresponsible it was for you to get so drunk and not even text her where you’d end up. She couldn’t find it in her to do it though, not when you looked up at her with those crooked teeth and pretty eyes. Instead, she carefully wrapped an arm around your waist, hoisting you from the sunken booth.

“C’mon sweetheart, uber will be here soon..”

You let her hold most of your weight with ease, lashes fluttering as Abby guided you away from the bar. Maybe it was the alcohol still sludging about in your stomach, but your cheeks had grown hot the more you stared up at her ── she noticed. A little brazen smile stuck to her typically serious face, hand warm against your hip. 

The black night was bitter, the breeze nipping your bare thighs while Abby slung her heavy jacket over your shoulders. The ride home was a blur, a mix of soft whispers and warm smells that had you forgetting how to be a person, instead just letting yourself be molded and moved. 

You’d sobered up a little bit as you entered the apartment, completely exhausted and limbs slowly starting to feel the effect of nine inch heels and the tumble you’d taken earlier. After shutting the door Abby knelt down without a word, slowly prying off your stilettos while her calloused fingers gently grazed your bare ankle.

You leaned back against the wall, the plaster cool along your upper back as you tried to keep some sort of balance. She looked good below you, blonde strands struck from her braid while she worked the thin strap of your heel. 

Without a thought ── you reached for the thin braid, threading it through your fingers before tugging out the hair tie playfully. Abby grumbled something soft beneath her breath, the sound making you giggle as she carefully stood back up. Your breath hitched as she pressed you to the wall, leaving a lingering kiss against your shoulder. It felt like a warm cloud muffled your senses, head tucked into her neck while she led you to the bedroom. 

Her rough hands were surprisingly gentle as they peeled off your dress, dragging it down over your hips while her breath kissed your lower back. You were putty in her warm palms, swaying slightly as she retrieved a warm hoodie for you to wear. It still felt like your body was at a slight disconnect, stumbling forward to fist her shirt while Abby pulled up your hood.

She glanced down at your soft hands tight on the fabric, gaze lidded with tired fondness. You looked cute in her clothes, messy hair and smudged makeup. Abby let her thumb brush against your cheek, nudging out a mascara stain you hadn’t noticed. Then she let it run along your faded red lipstick. Your lips parted instinctively, dried out and warm as you stared up at the woman towering you. 

It made you feel small, in the good way ── like nothing could hurt you.

Abby leaned down, palms cupping your flamed cheeks and guiding you to her lips. You practically melted into the carpet beneath your feet, fingers sinking deeper into the warm cotton of her shirt as you kissed back. It was sloppy, very unco-ordinated from the shots that hadn’t quite worn off yet. She didn’t seem to mind your clumsyness, instead chuckling softly into your mouth while her hand moved to grasp your hip. 

The weight of her hands kept you steady, head swimming as she stole your every breath. You hadn’t even realised she was guiding you until your bottom hit the mattress, sinking down into soft linen sheets. Abby’s fingers were in your hair, trying to keep you as close as she could until she needed to come up for air. 

Your hands roamed along her broad torso, attempting to drag her into the bed with you but to no avail. She pulled back, gently halting your wandering grip and instead covering you up with the warm blankets. 

“That’s enough, sweetheart..” She murmured softly, tucking you in like you were something precious. Part of you wanted to protest, near sober now but it was like the moment your swirling head hit the warm pillow you were a goner. Instead you gazed up at her, lashes fluttering gently when she leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. Abby was always like that ── to the point, honest, sweet.

You watched as her wide figure moved away from the bed, stripping from her gym clothes and leaving the bathroom door cracked open, knowing you liked the sound of running water. A sleepy warmth blessed across your cheeks, listening to the muffled shower curtain and drip of the drain as you cuddled into her side of the bed ── your body fitting perfectly into her indent, like always. 

a/n: the draft recycling continues, having a lot of fun with these drabbles while i work on some requests and more dealer!ellie◞ ◞

permanent taglist:

@zzelysian, @elliesfreckle, @mars4hellokitty, @satellitespinner, @valeisaslut, @andieprincessofpower, @liztreez, @azxteria, @iadorefineshyt, @vahnilla, @vixenkii, @the-sick-habit, @cupcakesyndromes, @elliescoquettegirl, @alien-catz-in-tuna-canz, @yashirawr, @slutforabbyanderson, @elliesfavwife, @rhian88.

[applejusue]

an edit for 'trenches' by @zzelysian ༊*·˚

permanent taglist: @zzelysian, @elliesfreckle, @mars4hellokitty, @satellitespinner, @valeisaslut, @andieprincessofpower, @liztreez, @azxteria, @iadorefineshyt, @vahnilla, @vixenkii, @the-sick-habit, @cupcakesyndromes, @elliescoquettegirl, @alien-catz-in-tuna-canz, @yashirawr, @slutforabbyanderson, @elliesfavwife, @rhian88.

[applejusue]

Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes a yes YES YES YES YES YES YESYES YES YES YES YES.

Hi

HEYY (っ˘ڡ˘ς)

[applejusue]

little by little i. ┆ part ii.

cw: dealer!ellie, cheerleader!reader, fluff, weed.

After being held back from graduating, Ellie was determined to flee this hell of a school. Instead of bothering with exams last year, she’d spent the majority of her time blazed in the janitor’s closet or tucked away beneath the bleachers on the football field. At some point, she’d wanted to go to college —  to really make something of herself. 

“I’ll never understand it Ellie, never..”

Joel would say over soggy microwaved pizza, brows furrowed. It was difficult for him to get his head around, the way that nerdy little kid with braces who wanted to be a solar scientist now spent her days in bed till three in the afternoon, blasting music from behind a locked door. That was a long shot dream, swallowed by the bullshit that only the public education system could provide.

She wasn’t sure when exactly it started falling apart, when she stopped caring — eventually, she just did.

Now Ellie filled that little space in her lower stomach with weed, calloused fingers sketching bleary images of strange creatures that she often spotted in the forest — trying to block out any real sort of thinking from her head. Being outside the pitch grounds helped, made her feel less picked at. The teachers weren’t a fan of her, though she wasn’t exactly sure why considering half the time she never showed up to give them something to be pissed about.

Her current reputation probably had something to do with it, that kid. The few friends that she’d had during freshman year no longer wanted to be around her — it stung back then, now it was a reliable comfort to not have to force herself into being liked. 

Ellie walked bleary eyed through the hallway, auburn hair a tangled mess while her bag slung down her arm. The hallways were littered with footsteps, the sound of shutting lockers and laughter. As she moved along the corridor, one of the football players was shoved into her shoulder, barely offering so much as a glance let alone an apology as he continued to rough house with his friends.

She gritted her teeth, a familiar flash of heat flushing through her lower stomach as she let out a sharp exhale from her nose. Ellie couldn’t afford to start anymore fights this year, having already been threatened more than once that any more ‘incidents’ and she’d be kicked — not her fault that the dickheads practically begged for it. 

Still, she’d promised Joel no crap this year, that she’d just keep her head down and try. 

Eventually she managed to get through the sea of B.O. and baggy jeans, fumbling with her locker combination. As she tugged some half empty notebooks into her bag, Ellie was graced with a familiar sight — you.

You sat atop a low window sill in a tennis skirt, the outside sun glowing against your cheeks while one of the football players stood between your legs. Her gaze traced you carefully, like if her eyes lingered too long you might be able to feel them. The angel of the school, not mean but not all that nice either. Captin of the tennis team and the cheerleading squad, good grades and an affliction for French — it was no surprise why you were adored, and envied. 

You were everything Ellie wasn’t, patient, focused, soft and pretty. She gazed without much shame as the jock hiked up your skirt in the middle of the hallway, both put off and allured by the sight. While she was never really good at paying attention, she did notice the way you pushed him back with an awkward giggle, eyes shifting away. It made her feel weird, a prickling in her gut that always seemed to sprout when you were around. 

Ellie shoved her books back into the rusted locker, it wasn’t her business to deal with that shit. 

She wasn’t sure what you saw in him, a six foot dick with a girl-eating mullet and bleached ends. He had a cocky attitude and some piercings, maybe you were into that. If that was the case maybe she’d had an advantage, what with her home grown nose ring and lower bites. You didn’t seem like the type to think about girls, but Ellie always thought that there was something a little off about you. 

Still, despite the fact that she’d never get an in, you were interesting. Not ditzy, but deliberately trying to fit in. You weren’t mean to her, not exactly but you always gave her this strange look that made her just want to rattle you by the shoulders, to ask you what the fuck you seen when you looked at her that way.

Though, it had to be obvious. 

You saw a stoner, a greasy scruffed loser with hair tied back using an elastic band and some prayers. You saw her freckled skin hidden beneath the bleachers during Phys ED while you ran around in the sun with your curls pulled up with a pink scrunchie. And you most definitely saw her worn bandshirts that she’d been wearing for the last three days, could probably smell that mix of weed and cologne that she’d stolen from Joel.

Ellie wasn’t exactly a prize, she knew that, but she still thought she could do better than whatever that guy did for you — that's why it came as a peculiar surprise when you actually approached her one day, rather than just staring.  

She was sat under the bleachers with her fingers grasping at the thin grass, blazed off her tits while the other students ran around like headless chickens during a game of rounders. As she peered through the small slit in the chairs, she noticed one of the little figures coming closer.

It was you, in those stupid shorts that made her feel no better than a teenage boy. 

The breeze tickled her freckled face as you came closer, looking nervous. You cast a shadow over her, and Ellie cocked her head back curiously to glance up at your flushed face. She’d never actually spoken to you before, just heard your voice in the hallways. Her mouth was a little dry, squinting from the bright sun.

“Somethin’ I can help you with?” Ellie murmured low, pulling the cigarette from her mouth and letting a small cloud of smoke drift out. You shifted on your feet, casting your eyes back to the field like you were already worried people would spot you here with her. Your breath was still slightly heavy from jogging over, fingers fidgeting at the hem of your polo. 

Ellie didn’t trust whatever the hell this was, already snubbing out her joint in case you were planning on ratting her out to the coach.

“Yeah actually, heard you’re selling..” Your voice came softer, not at all what she’d expected. It didn’t have that typical pop girl tint, not even a little bit of attitude considering the strange stares you gave every day. 

— “Selling?” She mused, an air of sarcasm in her tone as a barely thinned smirk painted her lip. Ellie wanted to be annoying, to push your buttons and see what happened. It was also her way of playing dumb, in case you were some undercover prick sent here to get her yet another suspension. You nodded, pony tail swishing before giving her another impatient glance down to where she was slouched in the grass.

“Yeah, you know..”

You trailed off, and it was almost cute that you couldn’t even say the word weed. Although, it probably never even crossed your vocabulary which wasn’t exactly helping your case. Why the hell would a pretty goody two shoes girl like you be searching for drugs? Ellie didn’t trust it, didn’t trust you. 

“Listen, sweetheart.. If someone sent you over here they can bitch up and come talk to me themselves..” Her voice came cold, because the one thing that Ellie hated was the feeling of being on the butt end of a joke, not knowing your motive. There was a very fat chance that you’d randomly decided to come to her on a Tuesday morning looking for weed. 

“No-.. nobody sent me, I just..” 

You were already getting nervous, a heavy unconfidence in your voice that only furthered her wariness. Still, there was also a hint of annoyance blossoming on your face, a sigh tumbling from your lips as you shook your head. 

“This was stupid.. nevermind.” 

You started to walk away from her, and Ellie wanted to scoff. Damn that pretty face of yours, the way you chewed on your lower lip when you got nervous.

“Hey! Hold onna minute..”

She’d regret this.

Ellie paced over to you with a sigh, stopping you before you could flee the cover of the bleachers. She ran a hand through her tousled hair, mulling over that expression you always gave when you looked up at her. Her voice dropped lower, annoyingly calmer.

“You want some, yeah? Well I don’t deal on school property anymore..”

She’d learnt that the hard way.

“If you really need it, meet me by that trail just past the football field during last period..”

Elie pointed a crooked finger over toward the trees that obscured the rest of the forest just outside the fence. You were the tennis captain, she was fairly certain you knew how to climb. She continued to look down at you, the way your eyes were now wide in mild surprise, and some form of nervous relief. You nodded, heart still thudding.

“And I swear to god, angel.. If this is some sort of piss around..”

She interjected, not liking the way you’d softened her blunt edges with nothing more than cute shyness and a plot she was too curious to ignore. Her warning was firm, eyes piercing down until you finally met her gaze again. You looked so worried, so genuine in a way that made her question damn near everything. She eased up — only a little. 

“Come alone, but if you want I’ll meet you by the fence..”

a/n: found this in my drafts, might be cute to explore◞ ◞

permanent taglist:

@zzelysian, @mars4hellokitty, @satellitespinner, @valeisaslut, @andieprincessofpower, @liztreez, @azxteria, @iadorefineshyt, @vahnilla, @vixenkii, @the-sick-habit, @cupcakesyndromes, @elliescoquettegirl.

[applejusue]

[applejusue]

cw: angst, drabble, unrequited love.

Ellie wasn’t going to show. She hated parties, especially ones with people that she was barely friends with anymore. It’d been two years since the two of you had finished high school, and a reunion was the last thing on her mind. Truth be told it was you alone that nearly convinced her to come, with repeated texts begging that you’d only go if she did too. 

“We’ll just go for a few hours, Els..”

Something like that.

Maybe back in senior year that would’ve been enough, you wanting her somewhere. The difference now was that it wouldn’t just be the two of you, if it was maybe she‘d be more inclined. These days it would be you, her, and him — something she avoided at all fronts.

Ellie had always had problems with getting too attached, ever since she was young. You were no different, showing up to third grade in sparkling trainers and holding her hand when she fell in the yard. She probably still had that plaster somewhere, the one with a faded crayola heart. For a long time you were all she had back then, the other kids not taking well to the weird girl who only got picked up by her dad in a dirty pick up. 

Highschool wasn’t much better, where childhood jealousy made a deliciously toxic blend once puberty hit and all those feelings that she’d never quite pinned down suddenly got a whole lot more intense. Back then seeing you get partnered with someone else for a science experiment felt closer to being left outside in the rain with a suitcase and an eviction notice. 

Things had mellowed in senior year, what was once a raging forest fire now felt like a hot smoke that sometimes filled up her lungs. She’d earned the right to be protective, to want the best for you. That’s why it was no wonder she grew so weary of this random boy you’d suddenly grown close to. Sure, you’d always had fleeting crushes but Ellie had always been so certain that no matter how much you liked them, you’d never drift.

And you didn’t — until you met him.

He was tall, dark haired, always picked up your favourite smoothie without you having to ask. Sure, Ellie used to do that too, but it didn’t have the same effect anymore.

It was no surprise that you fell hard. He was a year older, an annoyingly good hockey player that asked you out under the stars after a date at some busted pizza place. She still remembered how it felt to be sitting on the end of the phone while you giggled and told her all about your first kiss. It was almost like watching something slip from your grasp, knowing that you won’t have enough time to catch it. That was the moment she realised that maybe how she felt wasn’t normal—

That it shouldn’t make her want to throw up every time you held hands with someone that wasn’t her.

Ellie tried to distance herself from you, it was obvious that you didn’t need her anymore but nothing ever seemed to stick. God, there were nights where she wanted you to be a shit friend so badly, to ditch her completely for a boy you’d just met because then maybe she could hate you for it. Instead, you kept texting, kept making time for her and inviting her to hang out no matter how many times she lied about being busy. 

On the rare occasion it was just the two of you together, things weren’t so bad. She could make you laugh and get to feel the warmth of your eyes for a few hours and pretend that nothing changed, that you were still hers. It was never worth the aftertaste though, when he’d pick you up in that beat up Mercedes and you’d lean in the window to kiss him. It was like a shock of ice water, enough to wake her up from whatever delusions she’d trap herself in. 

The ache was easier to manage now that you'd both finished high school, she didn’t have to see you wearing his jersey in the hallways or stumble into him leaning against your locker. Puberty wasn’t sweet to her then, and Ellie knew that her acne covered awkwardness couldn’t stand a chance against something like him — popular, sweet, boyish. Still, there was an easy comfort then, to convince herself it wouldn’t last long, that it was just some fling.

Two years later, you’d moved in together while you finished up college — and god, your mom loved him.

And Ellie, she just stood there and watched your life happen without her.

a/n: a little smthn while I fist fight writer's block◞ ◞

[applejusue]

E. Williams sails to Sarpedon with nothing but a dagger and a quest ⎯⎯ to return with the head of a gorgon. However, when things on the island aren't all as they seem, she's forced to adapt to a union she hadn't planned.

◟`# fiction contains: gorgon!reader x hunter!ellie, mythology, mature themes, blood, violence, nudity, debauchery, kissing, slow-burn, mild asphyxiation, greed. 

⎯⎯⎯ ⸝⸝ made with love for @ssshhh-imreading ☆ 5.2k

INDEX //

The black current swallowed the sailboat, heavy waves carelessly thrashing against the old wood. She steadied her easy, balancing the creaking oars while her cloak whipped against the cool air. The night was dead, the old moon tucked away behind laced silver mist. Slimy forms of the deep stroked her stern, sending glistening ripples across the still water. It was a sultry promise.

This boat would soon belong to them.

Williams sat spread at the bow, marred face hidden beneath her navy hood. She twisted the hilt of her dagger, the blade glistening along the murky waters. The sea below smelt of rotting coral, chewed up salt mixed with spread sulfur. It was the type of stench you could taste at the back of your throat, and it would only worsen the closer she drafted to Sarpedon.

The island was far off-course, surrounded by a heavy veil of ashed fog. It fell along her shoulders, smearing against the innard of her chestplate. Ellie lifted her patterned scarf above her nose, calloused fingers pressing the fabric in taut as the dust continued to fall. Any other mere sailor would turn back — wise cowardice, but Ellie was no sailor.

The bitter air continued to cut through her many layers once the boat finally broke free from the fog. Darkened flecks of charcoal clung to her upper lashes, breath puffing out in a hot cloud after tugging the scarf down. Amidst the deep waters, she finally caught sight of her. The island lay dormant, desolate and unmoved by the passage of time. It was a place of myth, supposed serenity, but that was far from Ellie’s suspicions. 

Her boat hitched the offside shore with a pained creak, and Ellie climbed from the bow with a laboured huff. Wet sand clung to her leather boots, damp rope pulled taut between her crooked teeth as she tied off the cleat. The acidic stench of the fauna hit quick, a beach full of old trees cradled in dark weeping vines. It gathered in her lower stomach, but she spat through. 

At a glance, there was nothing to be seen of the island. The foliage was too dense, a forest of slivered sky and wet soil. Her cloak blended into the darkness, heavy soles trampling stray branches and shrubs. Everything was eerily quiet, the whistle of the wind and a distant flush of running water the only thing to hit her ears. She slashed through the reeds with her blade, ripping out thrush in an effort to locate the source of the river — because if anything would lead her to a temple, it would be a fresh stream.

The further Ellie followed the noise, the sooner another sound began to echo through the woods. Whispered giggles, splashing. Eventually the trail led to a clearing, lavish and delicately framed by draped vines. Her eyes roamed over the sight, moonlight gleaming down upon naked figures that bathed by the water’s edge. There was a carefree nature to the way they swam, the way they kissed as though it were as natural as a growing weed.

Williams only allowed herself a moment, one second in time to let her gaze trail shamelessly across naked breasts and writhing hair — but she wasn’t here for that.

Some tossed their heads back, all too aware of the figure hidden behind the trees. They beckoned her, with sensuous laughter and feline grins that slowly sprouted more unease within the pit of her chest. It curled around the crown of her head, it penetrated something fragile in the cusp of her liver. Nymphs.

Harmless, usually. Distracting? Very.

Ellie attempted to walk on, head tilting low beneath her worn woolen cloak. It’d belonged to her father once, many years ago. It seemed that despite her best efforts to walk away from temptation, it followed her through the dark forest. Whispers tickled along the shell of her ear, and the vegetation itself seemed to come alive once it became aware of her presence. Giggles echoed through the woods, soft hands leading her to the cold spring. Despite knowing that this was a careless detour — she was no better than the men they often enticed.

It didn’t take a lot of convincing for Ellie to allow them to drag her to the river, but she grumbled beneath her breath all the same. Her mouth was dry, tongue flicking out to lick over her lips as the group ensnared her rugged frame. They moved like a collective, a hive mind of glittering smiles and batted lashes as they latched on. Warm palms slid along her shoulders, prying fingers searching for the ribbon that held her cloak together.

Some of the hands flattened against her waist, others dragging her hair back so that gentle kisses could be peppered along the side of her neck. Ellie let her jaw tilt back, hands fishing amongst a sea of warm bodies as a low groan threatened to vacate the back of her throat. It never got there though, because the moment her face shifted there was a sudden pair of lips pressing against hers. She couldn’t tell which bleeding nymph it was but she reciprocated regardless, letting her dirtied tongue lick into the mouth that stole her breath.

Meanwhile the others continued to drag at her torn clothing, slipping that heavy cotton from her shoulders and unbuckling that dented armour plate. Through the pleasant haze of lick warm and arousal Ellie could faintly recognise that this was a very foolish idea, that to succumb in the middle of an eerie forest could only end poorly — but she was nothing if not willing to fall prey to a colony of beddable women.

As though they could sense her drifting, Ellie was dragged back in by the shirt collar. Her cloak was discarded, warm bodies pressed against her back and kissing along the curve of her ear lobe. At her front, gentle fingers caressed her face and hair that made it damn near impossible to pull away. They grew enticed by her chest, firmed yet clearly feminine in a way that they’d clearly not expected. For a minute she grew a half mouthed smirk into the kiss, wondering if they’d recoil. 

Instead, it seemed they were even more allured by the fact that she wasn’t a man.

Another pair of soft palms grabbed onto her cheeks, guiding her away from one pair of lips and into the mouth of another. It was no wonder that they’d confused her, a tall figure with overgrown scuffed hair and dark brows. Her demeanour left nothing to be desired either, torn clothing and a firmset jaw that blended heavy with her smell of sea salt and burnt leather. 

The wandering fingers began to pry further, attempting to peel off her buttoned shirt but she was quick to grasp the wrist swiftly — taut enough to be a warning. Ellie was giving in, but she wasn’t going to completely abandon her wits despite the tongue that continued to suffocate her mouth. The woman only giggled, instead moving to chew on the side of her collar while nosy hands stroked her waist. 

The warm figures moved to pushing, her body pushed in all directions as heart continued to pulse deep within her drawers. Muffled moans carried through the olden trees, echoed back by the shrill of the wind. Ellie wasn’t looking anymore, rather feeling the weight of ten hands. 

Soon it began to feel like she was floating, boots no longer slacked within the firm soil despite their best attempts to touch. The soft hands that once ran over her chest now wrapped around her upper thighs, lashes fluttering as she slowly grew more breathless. Ellie’s hands grasped at faded shoulders, bare breasts and spindled hair as though it could bring her back down to earth, but it offered no such reprise. 

The once gentle fingers that had roamed her body now drew tighter, lips suffocatingly sultry as that lathered tongue continued to rinse through her inner cheeks. It was difficult to make out a ricketed curse over the blockage, head smothered in warm fuzz as she became increasingly more aware of how foolish she was for playing along with dryads rather than focusing on the real reason she was here. Her breath was slowly fizzling out, and she managed to rip her face away from the poisoned kiss. 

It didn’t clear her airways.

As her lidded eyes peeled open, no longer was there a hoard of beautiful women at her knees. 

Instead dark vines had her suspended above the ground, branches that stretched from the trees and slithered along her arms despite her firm attempts to shove from their grip. The slick fauna curled around her ribs, the one that had tightened its way around her neck in the midst of all the kissing growing more apparent. Ellie tilted her jaw back with parted lips, breath coming in uneven pulses as they continued to toy with her half clothed form. 

Her calloused fingers carefully moved before they could be restrained, grasping the worn hilt of her dagger — and in one swift movement, her blade sliced straight through the vines. 

A stifled screech echoed from the fauna as they shrivelled like prunes, but not before shoving their prey to the ground. The wind dragged from her throat on impact, chin hitting the damp mud with a low groan. Ellie grabbed a fistful of wet grass, pushing her body upward with a bloody spit into the dirt. 

Deserved.

Practically drenched to the skin, she moved on, knowing that staying still put her at more of a risk than the latter. Every twist in the trail seemed familiar, the woods a never ending darkness that even she struggled to navigate. Ellie pushed through bramble weed, only for a colony of beetles to scurry straight across the toe of her boots. The skittering trilled up her spine, and the last thing she needed were bugs.

It felt like centuries until she eventually caught a glint of warmth, a deep orange glow peeking through the branches — it gave her the strength to cut through the last of the clinging fauna. She staggered out of the forest, boots meeting cracked stone. There was an old weathered pathway that led to the distant temple, overgrown and vacant much like the home itself. Despite the old crumbling marble, the structure stood firm and seemingly still occupied.

Large wooden torches sat by the entrance, temptingly. A false invitation.

Ellie knew very little about who ruled these grounds, only what she needed to obtain from them. Back home, she’d been commanded to retrieve the head of a gorgon — a hefty price attached to the catch. It was enough to keep her living lavishly, servants and fruit. She didn’t think about who they were, instead what they were. It was necessary to get the job done, else she wouldn’t survive. 

Still, there was something off.

The rumours were plenty, a woman with many heads. A woman composed of serpentine darkness, that could turn any mortal man to stone from nothing more than a glance. She’d heard the stories recanted over crushed wine and whispers — a priestess of mortal fear, born to purge the selfish desires of man.

In this lifetime, she was no better.

As she trudged into the open air, Ellie found herself missing the condensed constriction of the forest. It didn’t feel like she was alone. Her shadowed eyes scanned the bleak surroundings, met with nothing but weeping trees and darkness. She wasn’t spiritual by any means, religion a path she’d abandoned long ago and yet it almost felt sacrilege to wreak more blood than what already stained the marble steps. It wasn’t infrequent for her to question her own morality, but at this very moment it came with a cost.

A branch snapped. 

No sooner than her head whipped around, a large body collided into hers with a bated screech. Her dagger was thrown to the wet grass. Ellie wrestled with the winged creature as it shoved her to the ground, frantic squawks fleeing very human teeth. It’s claws slashed straight through the fabric of her clothes, tearing deep into flesh. A searing cry left her lips as streaks of blood caught against the demon’s claws, wet grass clinging slick to her back. 

The harpy was heavy, a cacophony of feathers and talons that slit like stones. Ellie managed to get one arm out, tearing a clump of tuft from the creature’s neck. Its high pitched whistles rang deep within her ears, enough to split the skull if she wasn’t careful. Whether this was a planned defender or an unlucky boist of anger, she had no time to unravel. Ellie continued to writhe beneath the clawing creature, bloodied hands grasping along the silage.

The moment she felt something cool and jagged beneath her calloused palm, Ellie swung.

It stunned the creature momentarily, a shriek escaping its muffled beak. The distraction gave her enough time to grasp onto her thrown knife — but not before its retaliation. Her chest heaved as the harpy let out another sickened pierce, talons grasping by the shoulder before swiping at her face. A blistering pain shot through her head as the claws caught her eyes, tearing skin alike. Ellie cried out in a heat of anger, plunging the blade of her dagger deep into the heart.

With a final screech the harpy flew.

Ellie laid there on the wet patch of earth, a mix of bloodied tears streaming down her shut eyelids. Her lungs felt stuffed with cloth, throat heaving and coated with the heavy stench of metal blood. It dripped along her mouth, down her neck. Everything burned.

Despite her attempts to get up, it felt like her ribcage alone weighed ten tons. The cold air teethed at her opened wounds, and in that brief moment, she expected it to be her last. 

Ellie’s head lay limp, hair muddy amidst the dirt — until a sound caught her bludgeoned ear. Gently crushed leaves, a faint rattled rhythm that grew near. Her body wouldn’t co-operate, wouldn’t lift her heavy frame. Through bloodied eyes there was nothing to be made of, a shadow of a figure, an illusion of salvation staring down at her. When that darkness crouched beside her, something instinctive took over.

She reached for her blade weakly, barely able to force a tight grip let alone lift the weapon. Long, cold fingers encircled her wrist, preventing any attempts to proceed further. It was all growing colder in fact, her raw palms tingling as each sense slowly withered away to nothingness. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⠀⸝⸝

A crackling fire tickled the shell of her ear, a low groan dripping from the back of her tongue. The world was still in darkness, each sense dampened with a heavy quilt. Everything felt warm, a pleasant fur brushing against her lower stomach that Ellie slowly began to realise was completely bare. For a moment, she simply let herself lay there. No sooner than she awoke, did the reminders of her encounter kick in. Her body stung from each slash, shoulders stiff and bruised. 

A low grunt fled her dried lips as she attempted to stretch, her fragile wounds pleading a hearty protest. She keeled to the side, trembling fingers pressing against what she could now pin as cut linen tied taut around her waist. It felt strikingly close to what draped across her face. Her head still spun, a dull throb near the temple like her skull had been split down the middle. Amidst the pungent brain fog, Ellie seemed to recall where she could possibly be.

As she sat up the fur blanket fell from her frame, draping across her lap. From what she could feel, she’d been stripped of all clothing except her trousers. It should be more demeaning, but she was no stranger to waking up that way. The cloth still rested atop her brow, and Ellie couldn’t deny her reluctance to remove the bloodied rag — unsure what might remain of her eyesight. 

Her mouth ran dry as she tentatively reached for the linen, dragging the soak cloth from her face. The first thing that hit her was the light, burning embers and a blur of warm shades. 

A searing pain shot straight through her head in the absence of darkness, enough for her chin to drop with a low groan. Everything was spinning, a blur of texture that she couldn’t pin down. A faint ringing rattled in her ears, breath coming in dry pants. She could see, barely, but it would have to do. 

Ellie peered through her raw fingers, unable to focus her eyes on the setting around her. It carried the illusion of a warm fire in a seemingly barren room. Her heart thrummed against her ribs, the instinct to move from this unfamiliar setting. There was no question she was inside the temple, but what she did question was where was the thing that dragged her here.

It was her racing heart that pushed her up onto aching knees, red bitten hands thrusting out to block a threat that wasn’t there. Shadows danced along her iris, tormentful and deceiving all at once. Her head continued to spin, vision a muddled haze of light and texture that did nothing to quell the unease that had splintered inside her gut. 

Her fingertips dragged along the surface she’d been sitting on. It was warm from her weight, some sort of soft chaise laced with delicate animal fur. As she tried to make some order of her surroundings, a glint from near the bed caught the line of her eye. Ellie staggered towards the light, the silver growing bigger with every step. Resting atop a smooth rounded table was a dagger, her dagger. She didn’t need to see to know that it belonged to her, that familiar weight and bludgeoned indent on the side of the hilt. 

Either you were foolish enough to leave her with a weapon, or confident enough that you had no need to fear it. She had a feeling it was the latter, and that made her heart pound heavier. She was at a severe disadvantage, half blind and injured against something that was entirely above her. 

Ellie staggered through the icy marble hallways, imposingly long corridors that echoed her every breath, She kept one hand braced against the wall, dragging it along to keep her both guided and steady. Everything was spinning, vision fading in and out of focus the more she pushed herself to keep going, recklessly following the dim light that bled through the walls. She hadn’t even thought to find her shirt, let alone put it back on — still half delirious with blood loss and that heavy cloud above her head. 

For a while she could’ve sworn she was walking through a maze, every turn looking the very same as the last. Just as she considered stopping, giving her the rest that her body was pleading for, she spotted a light. Subtle aqua waves glimmered against the walls, leading to an open ended impluvium.

She forced herself onward, bones weeping with every stuttered step. It felt like her head was melting into her neck, dripping down her shoulders and onto the hard floor. Ellie fumbled with the dagger in her waistband, fist clenched tight on the crooked hilt as she tried to stifle her labored breath. Her body was weak, only just managing to swim through a harsh current that continued to try and drag her under. 

Eventually, the hallway parted into the outdoors, illuminating the delicate stars that hung above the large pool. 

Ellie’s irritated pupils couldn’t focus on anything other than the jade tinted water that glimmered against the pale pillars. The sounds of sloshing gently sank in as the night breeze hit her open grazes in a way that nearly had her keeling all over again. She scanned the area as best she could, spine rattling with the need to stay in control despite how weak she truly was. 

The thing that unsettled her the most was that she knew you were here, somewhere.

She squinted desperately through glossy lashes, clinging to a rugged pillar as she continued to search for you. The aqua glowed against her pale skin, breasts peaked in the dead night air amidst the battle to stay standing upright. Attempting this arrogant assassination while she could barely get a foot out was a definite mistake, but Ellie wasn’t thinking right now.

She was running on raw nerves and a hammering heart, needing to find the cold hand that had grabbed hers — the slithering demon that had dragged her to salvation rather than leaving her for dead in the grass. 

You had ulterior reasons, that was the only way she could justify it. She needed to get to you, before you could get to her.

Lounge chairs dotted the courtyard, wooden tables with silver platters and fabrics that did little to match the crumbling temple they resided in. Fresh blood trickled from the bandaged slash at her waist, tingling down her side but Ellie was too disorientated to notice, sweat glistening against her dirtied forehead. She stumbled closer to the pool, eyes focused just enough to notice the figure that was knelt by the glowing pool. 

The sloshing liquid moved through the cold air as she neared, labored breaths likely giving her away in a manner she was too distracted to realize. Ellie drew her dagger with a weak arm, trying to be stealthy despite the stammer in her footsteps and the way her hold body was threatening to snap inward. She could hear that faint rattling that always arose when you were near, the writhing mass that cradled your head.

Her mouth ran dry, throat bobbing as the serpents that made up your hair curled aimlessly around the back of your shoulders and slept like her presence meant nothing — as though she was nothing. Ellie managed to raise the blade again decidedly despite her trembling hand, the other palm considering whether it was really a wise idea to latch onto a mane of snakes just to get a blade through your neck. It was the indecision, the steadily draining force of her injuries that slowly clouded her judgement. 

The glistening fangs of your ophidians reflected against her sharpened blade, some hissing as Ellie peered over your shoulder. You were bathing something beneath the water, red and flowing. The shirt. Her breath faltered, catching the blood staining your hands — the ones that had been on her wounds. It sent another tremor down her bones, and that was the moment she’d faltered.

Her feet took a backward step, hoping to recalculate but the adrenaline that had kept her upright till now was swiftly slipping through her fingers, gravity begging to send her back to the ground.

She lost her balance. The world left her grasp as she fumbled on shaking legs, clattering into the cold hard ground hip first. Another searing lash fled through her injured flesh as the dagger scattered from her grip, a low groan leaving her lips. Every wound on her body ached, ribs heaving painfully at the second collision. Only now was it really kicking in just how careless she was, how damn screwed she was.

Her vision fogged as your figure moved, your blurred face glancing over a curved shoulder. You were in some form of robe, in a colour she couldn’t make out as the aqua continued to glow against your skin. She tried to prop herself up on her reddened palm, to get up, but her body was angry — forcing her weight down. Her heart rattled against her bones as a faint white split from your lips, a sharp toothed smile. 

“You’re aggravating those wounds, and after all that time I spent cleaning them..”

Your voice came low above the water, tinged with a lilt that didn’t belong to this time. Ellie’s chest heaved as you continued to wash her shirt so calmly, as though she hadn’t just attempted to behead you moments ago. You turned away from her with a chilling laugh, breathed and brazen and that itself made her swallow. 

The way you acted was as though she was nothing, some mere mortal that amused you rather than a threat with a sharpened weapon. It made her stomach tighten, thoughts bleeding together in a flattened frenzy because for the first time — Ellie hadn’t a single upper hand. This was your temple, your domain and she was half blind and unable to stand. To make matters worse, she was now likely on your worse side. She struggled to form a sentence with her throat so dry, each breath feeling sharp against the rib of her mouth. 

Sweat dribbled down Ellie’s brow as you stood up, imposingly tall and moving to hang her shirt along a wooden rack for drying. Only then did you properly turn to face her, body language guarded as you walked closer. With every step you grew clearer, pushed more into frame. Long legs, a writhing mass of hair that seemed just as interested in her as you were. They cradled your neck lovingly, some curled around your forehead and cheeks as though you were the world to them. As their host, you likely were.

She could only lift head weakly as you came to stop in front of her, the valiant hunter now defensive and delirious from weathered wounds. You crouched down, gaze all piercing before grabbing her by the jaw. Ellie grunted, immediately met by that cold hand again, the one that had no doubt undressed her to the skin and rang along her bloodied flesh. Sharpened nails pressed gently into her cheek as you tilted her jaw, and the woman beneath you obeyed through gritted teeth.

Her half lidded eyes bore into yours, chapped lips still bloodied and sealed despite her best efforts to groan something out in protest. Another sly smile spread along your face, pushing up your cheeks. Your serpents purred with interest, some slithering down to flick  against Ellie’s cheek in a way that had her recoiling, body taut. It caught your interest, your brow raising before muttering something faint beneath your breath. It was a language she couldn’t place, one that made the snakes withdraw obediently. A golden chain hung down your collar, nestled between the curve of your chest. 

Despite the fact that she could barely see, Ellie could tell you were a woman of beauty. That robe that flowed in the faint night breeze, that smile that both enticed and instilled fear. She wasn’t entirely sure when her troubled gaze shifted to something deeper, but soon enough she found herself unable to look away. It was like you’d cast a spell on her, something that quietened the cloud clanging that haunted the back of her mind, the things that pushed her to act.

She was moldable in your grip, bloodied face heavy — waiting for something.

Perhaps she was waiting for you to kill her, to punish her. And yet right now that seemed less likely than she’d first assumed despite the fact that she’d invaded your home and attempted to take your head more than once. Your gaze held something wiser, softer. Hands possessing a tenderness that had her weak.

“Your heart is heavy with greed, that will lead you nowhere..” You spoke low beneath that accent, as though you were hypnotizing her with the way you framed each vowel. A golden ring was pierced straight through your lower lip, and in her delirium Ellie found herself more focused on the way it moved than the words that followed. It took a moment before her head caught up, that she was here and you were practically scolding her.

“I.. I have my reasons..” She spat out beneath a strained breath, attempting once again to push herself from the cold ground but only falling further for the one that knelt before her.

The weight of your amber eyes made every scar seem more vivid, every crack more exposed. You kept her down by your grip on her jaw alone, tilting her dirty face back even further. Ellie looked up blearily, watching as your face faded in and out of focus. She caught those dark lashes, eyes that felt like temptation itself, but she knew better than to peer into them.

“Fools have reasons, men make choices..”

You spoke with that silver tongue, almost like the serpents themselves as you continued to stare down at her, and Ellie’s heart thudded louder.

“I’m not a man, nor am I a fool..” She choked out through gritted teeth, glaring up at the woman before her as best she could through what meek control remained near her temple.

You simply pursed your lips, a low softened laugh echoing from the back of your throat as if you found her the most amusing thing in the world. Ellie felt small under your touch, cheeks flamed with anger because she should’ve known better than to hunt down something with centuries of life beneath their belt. 

“And yet you invaded my sanctuary, stalked my neck even after I spared your life..” You murmured beneath that heavy tongue, leaning so close that Ellie could almost feel your breath tickling her face. Her whole body felt like it was molten, melting into the ground like sapped mush. Everything was still burning, palm trembling in the effort it took to keep herself upright.

“Pray tell me, little human.. What is your reasoning for that?”

“I-..” Ellie faltered, dagger tossed and completely barren to a woman taller and graciously right in every way that she wasn’t. She was ruthless, selfish and vain. Perhaps at first, many years ago Ellie had managed to convince herself that her actions were just. Slaying beasts that ravaged livestock, threatened small towns. Back then there was no reward, no valour. 

The bloodshed that sat beneath her belt now in reprise for gold was something that could no longer be considered valiant — instead a cacophony of her hunger for recognition.

“Dear thing..” You murmured soft, and Ellie could practically feel her vision shifting. It slid off the rocks and plunged straight for the coast, and for once she didn’t have the will to get back up. The water continued to slosh faintly, body slowly losing focus on all the stinging wounds. Then, she felt your hand rest upon the crown of her head. Your longer fingers dragged through her hair, stroking in light motions as you remained crouched beside her. After a moment, you leaned down — voice a slinking whisper against her ear.

“You have sought me out, now you will belong to me..”

𝑨𝑱'𝑺 𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑴𝑨𝑵𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ✶

@zzelysian, @mars4hellokitty, @satellitespinner, @valeisaslut, @andieprincessofpower, @liztreez, @azxteria, @iadorefineshyt, @vahnilla, @vixenkii, @the-sick-habit, @cupcakesyndromes.

comment to be added ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა ♡

[applejusue]

aj. baby. oh my lord.

i'm dead serious when i say that there is an art to your writing. i can literally feel the thought you put into every sentence, every plot line, every carefully thought out dialogue,, and heavy is the blade only proves me right 🙂‍↕️

can we PLEASEEE talk about your portrayal of ellie?? like UGH the sheer details in her character have me reeling. the fact ellie's a hunter, who clearly has to rely on her senses to do her job, only to have one of them impaired?? I'M DECEASED.

like obviously her other senses are heightened now, and the way you conveyed that in this fic has me HOOKED. and it's especially clear in the lines:

"A crackling fire tickled the shell of her ear, a low groan dripping from the back of her tongue. The world was still in darkness, each sense dampened with a heavy quilt. Everything felt warm, a pleasant fur brushing against her lower stomach that Ellie slowly began to realise was completely bare."

"Her fingertips dragged along the surface she’d been sitting on. It was warm from her weight, some sort of soft chaise laced with delicate animal fur."

"The sounds of sloshing gently sank in as the night breeze hit her open grazes in a way that nearly had her keeling all over again."

look at me quoting your own fic as if you didn't even write it yourself 😓 IT JUST HAD TO BE SAID I FEAR. the detail and effort you put into your work is unmatched, and i'm always so grateful whenever i get to witness it in real time. your work ethic is INSANE and every time you write, i always just wanna peek into your brain and see how you think up such amazing ideas.

despite being here since day one, i'm still so affected by your work. you are literally one of, if not my biggest inspiration on here, and being able to share this space with you is something i wouldn't give up for anything else.

sorry for ranting but i can't help it when you push out masterpiece after masterpiece 🙂‍↕️ i love you and your writing to the ends of the earth, and if there's one thing i'm 100% sure about, it's that i could never get sick of your fics. ever.

love you, baby 🩷🩷

AWWW STOP GOT A BUTCH BLUSHING..

No because this is so sweet of you to say genuinely. I've been feeling down about my own work for quite a long time now, and lately I've really gotten a chance to explore themes and scenarios that are a little more unique!

MILD SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT ☆

Heavy is the blade was meant to be a small drabble, just some ideas for our dear @ssshhh-imreading, but the more I wrote the more I got attached to the premise. So I decided to just keep going, and now it's a proper fic 🙂‍↕️

I think a lot of people are intimidated by it, but I promise it's definitely worth the read and there will be some element in there you'll enjoy.

AS FOR THE QUOTES..

First of all, yes it is very funny that I'm rereading my own writing. I think that with any character injury you really need to consider what that means for them. For Ellie, she's grown to rely on multiple senses as a hunter.

She can adapt to her vision being impaired because she knows how to use her hearing and sense of smell, but not having the visuals to back it up really overwhelms her. She's running on pure adrenaline in the second half, and the minute her body catches up to her mind she can barely lift herself back up.

Lately, I've been very focused on creating unique character dynamics. It would've been easy to make it a hurt/comfort scenario where reader takes in blind Ellie, but I really wanted to get a bit more meat in there.

There's a level of disconnect between the two because they're from completely different worlds. Reader isn't interested in 'fixing' Ellie, and in a way she patched her partly for her own personal gain. Neither are very good people, but that power balance had me in a chokehold.

I'm a lot prouder of my recent work, I know I don't upload as often but the quality over quantity approach I've been taking these days has been a lot more rewarding even if they might not perform as well as consistent oneshots.

That's my little yap session, but I would also like to thank you angel for proofreading my fics lately and keeping my head focused when I start to doubt myself. We have pretty different work methods and styles, but it all just works somehow.

It feels like we've been on this app for ages now even though it's really only been a few months, but I'm so excited for the new era that we're both coming into. ANYWAY, rant over..

Love you too, sweetheart. ♡۶ৎ

[applejusue]

THE NEWEST FIC WAS SO GOOD I LOVE YOUR WRITING SM 🥰🥰🥰🥰

AWWW TYVM!! I'm obsessed with writing medieval style settings, so I got a chance to info dump on my love for mythology.. ( ˘ ³˘)