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mybworlds · 5 months ago

Text

Alive

Pairing: jackson!joel miller x f!reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: You, after a very long trip alone across the country, arrive in Jackson. Joel is a very lonely man and after Ellie broke up with him, he's even more alone and grumpy. Tommy and Maria decide that you're going to stay at Joel's house for a while, at least until more houses are built. Will your cohabitation be easy? Or will it be more complicated than everyone thinks?

Warnings: use of you, use of alcohol, loneliness, suicidal thoughts, suicidal attempt, a short story about sexual assault that occurred in the past I won't go into details, another SA in the present days, violence, blood, lots of sexually explicit content, use of petnames, dirty talk, fluff elements, mutual pining, the main characters spy on each other for a while, the image of the female character has the sole purpose of representing the character, but you can imagine her however you want, no physical description of the female character except for long hair often gathered in a ponytail or braid, she wears a bra and jeans (most of the time).

Extra warnings for this chapter: spoilers about the second season and an important event that characterizes TLOU2.

Masterlist

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Thx for the dividers @saradika-graphics

You avoid Joel.

You know he had nothing to do with what you lived again, he helped you, made you tea, prepared food, tucked you in.

You know he had nothing to do with it. You've been telling yourself this for days and days, but you still can't leave your room.

Yet, you stand looking out the window all day, you're scared.

Again.

The snow continues to fall heavily and covers the ground around the house.

You are back to observing the city and its inhabitants from afar. You feel like an intruder again to everything that happens around you.

Joel knocks on your door twice. It's a conventional sign that Joel has adopted to tell you that he's brought you something hot to eat.

It seems like he cares about you, but you know he doesn't. He told you so clearly that he doesn't care about you.

You turn towards the door and you go to open the door. When you open it there’s Joel only.

His look is unreadable.

He opens his mouth as if to say something, but then he reconsiders.

You stay like this. Motionless, one hand on the doorknob and the other at your side.

His hazel eyes bore into your. You gulp.

Then, he seems to regain a hint of control, "Um, I'm about to go on patrol, you have to come." he says hastily.

You swallow, "I have to?"

He nods, "Yeah. Are you coming?"

You sigh, "What about Jesse? Tommy? Vasquez?"

"I need ya." he replies, but shortly after saying it he realizes the manner and words chosen. He clears his throat, "So?" he asks you impatiently "Will you come?"

You sigh, “Okay.”

Joel nods before to walk away, you hear him go downstairs, while you stare at where Joel was standing a moment before, he's so weird.

You shake your head, deciding to ignore everything and focus on the patrol. You put on your scarf, gloves, hat, snow boots and jacket and head down. You take your bow and arrows and you reach him.

The door of the house is open and Joel is there in front: his hands on his hips and his gaze turned outwards, his rifle askew.

"Ready." you say alongside him.

He turns to you, looks at you, you lower your gaze and look outwards, then back at him "Shall we go?" you ask him.

He nods with a poorly concealed smile.

When you leave the house, you reach the horses and Joel asks you "Do you wanna help?"

"No, I'll handle it myself." you respond by mounting your steed.

You tighten the reins, observing the horse's mane, feeling a vice in the pit of your stomach. You know he's just trying to make you understand that he's there, but you don't want to be treated differently. You would feel even worse.

You join the others in silence, "Hey," someone greets you, others give you a look full of compassion that makes you look down. You don't want to be treated like a victim. You couldn't stand it.

Jesse places a hand on your back getting your attention, “It's going to be okay.” you nod with a small smile, then he says “Okay, this time Joel, you and Tommy are going to the valley. Stone and Clark towards the mountains, you and me instead" he says turning his gaze towards you "in the woods."

You nod as Joel approaches you.

"Jesse, I thought she and I could go together," you first look at Joel dumbfounded, then you and Jesse exchange looks.

"Um, Joel, you know that area so well and so does Tommy. It's for the best. We'll meet back to the radio tower in four hours." he adds, addressing all of you.

Joel looks down, almost looking disappointed.

Jesse walks away and that's when you turn to him, "Joel?" he looks up "I'll be fine." he nods, resting his eyes on yours, "Promise." you add placing a hand on his forearm before to leave.

"What was that?" Tommy asks his brother.

Meanwhile, the two brothers head towards the valley, always keeping an eye on the area around them which is quiet for the moment.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Joel replies despite having understood exactly what his brother is referring to.

"Don't get vague with me. I recognize that look and I haven't seen it since... before Sarah was born."

Joel sighs, looking left and right. His love life has always been a disaster and even before the birth of his daughter, after her mother left them, he no longer had anyone other than sporadic encounters once or twice, but then he returned to Sarah and she was the only one to whom he had dedicated himself completely.

"I'm serious, Joel," Tommy continues, "if you were to finally start a new life, I'd be happy and I'd give ya all my support."

Joel mutters to himself. You are pretty, sweet, you are fragile even if you do everything to hide it, you are brave, but that's not the point. The point is, he doesn't know if he's really ready to take off that armor and show himself for who he really is. Although he himself has difficulty understanding who he is now, who he has become.

"Think about it." Tommy says.

"There's nothing to think about! I can't stand her!"

Tommy sighs, "If you want to prove that you're a tough one, don't do that. You'll just risk pushing her away." Joel's gaze is blank "If you don't want to get teased about that, it's different!"

"Stop ranting, move!" Joel snaps.

Tommy chuckles shaking his head "Okay, heart of stone, let's move our asses!"

The vegetation is covered by a thick blanket of snow, the horses pass two fallen trees, a fence and the remains of a house. They can only hear the footsteps of their horses in the snow and their breathing. The two siblings look around and apart from a few infected people and a couple of hares they find nothing else.

"There's nothing here. Let's join the others at radio tower." says Joel making the horse turn around.

When the two brothers reach the meeting point, Stone and Clark are already there preparing a fire, Jesse is carrying a bunch of blankets and handing them out to Clark and Stone who are already there.

The Millers get off their horses and approach the others, Joel looks around perplexed, where are you?

"Jesse?" the boy looks up "Where is she?" Joel asks looking around.

"She said she wanted to be alone a little longer," he replies.

“And you did?” Joel continues looking around in hopes of seeing you.

"Joel, relax and then don't crowd her."

"I don't wanna crowd her." he clarifies "It's just..." after everything you had to suffer "she's been through a lot."

“I know,” both Joel and Jesse are silent for a few moments, “that's why you should give her some space and time.”

"I'm just worried that she's alone somewhere. This world is dangerous." Joel continues although he realizes that this excessive concern of his may sound ridiculous.

“You're a good roommate,” Jesse says, patting Joel on the back, “if she's not here in half an hour, I'll go look for her.”

Joel looks around.

No, he'll come after you.

You and Jesse found some canned food, bottles of water, and some wood. You can return to your meeting point.

It reminds you of when you grabbed everything you could just to survive, you remember how scared you were after escaping from the QZ, you remember constantly looking over your shoulder.

You were so afraid.

"All in all, it turned out nice." Jesse comments with a smile.

"Huh? Yep! Yes, indeed." you reply, but you're distracted.

Jesse is silent, as you.

Then you dare to ask him, "What happened to those two guys?"

Jesse doesn't need to know who you're referring to, he knows.

"The next day the council met and they were expelled. They won't be able to hurt you anymore." he tells you in a complacent way.

You nod. So, they're out here. Somewhere. Maybe alive or maybe dead or maybe infected.

You swallow and think if those policemen had listened to you in that QZ, you might not have done what you did, maybe you wouldn't have run away.

Your head is spinning and you're starting to break out in a cold sweat, you feel like your arms and legs are paralyzing, you choke.

"Are you okay?" Jesse asks you, coming next to you.

“Mhm, mhm” you moan “You go ahead, I'll catch right up."

"It's not a good idea."

"I insist, go. It's not my first time alone, Jesse. It's okay." you say feeling your breath getting shorter.

Well, actually, it's not.

Jesse tells you something like he's going to start moving forward or something like that before to leave, you feel paralyzed.

You can't breathe or think. You're terrified. The anxiety is growing more and more inside you, it's becoming unbearable. Your heart beats so hard, it feels like it's going to explode in your chest.

You remember that evening when you left the QZ, you remember your only three surviving friends who told you not to leave the quarantine area, but instead you did with a backpack on your shoulder and as many supplies as you could bring with you. You had just killed the man you thought loved you who instead raped you. You're a killer and it doesn't matter why you did it, but that you did.

You didn't even realize you'd fallen off your horse and been submerged in the snow. You breathe hard, you move your eyes left and right, unable to move.

Everything you've ever felt is eating you alive.

What you lived, what you did will never change.

Never.

He had to pay for it, but did you have to do it?

You're a murderer.

"Hey, hey, hey," Joel grabs your shoulders making you re-emerge from the snow that had partly covered you and making you sit down "breathe, breathe slowly. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth."

“I can't breathe,” you tell him in a strangled tone of voice moving your eyes only.

"Yes, you can. C'mon, kiddo." he says positioning himself behind you making you rest your back against his chest "Do you feel my breathing? In and out. In and out."

You're shaking, “Joel,” you say, gripping his jeans in your fists, “I… I…”

"Sssh, sssh, it's okay, even if it doesn't seem like it. Don't worry. Breathe."

You continue to convulsively tighten his trousers, while the nature around you slowly regains shape and color.

"It's okay," he continues, holding your shoulders with a firm grip "In and out, in and out." he's silent for a few moments "I don't know what triggered it, but everything's fine. The past can hurt. But it's not here. Sssh, can you feel it? It's already better." he whispers in your ear touching your shell with his lower lip, "Come on, again."

You close your eyes and you do as he told you and very slowly the grip on his jeans loosens until it's completely loosened.

He doesn't speak, he still holds you in that position, then when he feels that your breathing has returned to normal he loosens his grip.

"How you feel?" he asks in a murmur in your ear.

You nod, “Good.”

"Okay." he says getting up and offering you his hands which you grab and standing up too "Let's go." he adds and together you go to the field.

Evening comes and you and Joel are on watch, secretly observing each other.

You want to ask him why he behaves so differently. He would like to tell you that he knows what haunts you about your past, but he knows that if he did, you might get mad at him. And you wouldn't be wrong.

You are almost next to each other again in front of a broken glass window, it's cold that evening too.

You wrap your arms around yourself, massaging them to warm yourself up a little despite the jacket.

"Cold?" he asks you.

"Freezing." you answer trembling.

He stands up and hands you a blanket that it enveloped him, “No, what about you?” you ask him questioningly.

"I’m fine." he answers you, but his red cheeks and nose tell a whole different story.

"Sure?"

"Yep," he mumbles moving away from you, but staying close to the window.

You visibly relax under that blanket thanking Joel with a look.

"Have you already participated in other patrols of this type?" you ask him curiously.

"Yep."

You nod, staring at the darkness outside, "How did it go with Tommy?" you ask him.

“Good,” he says nodding.

“Um, you and Tommy…” you don’t know if you can ask.

“What?” he asks you, frowning and narrowing his eyes.

“How is your relationship?” he tilts his head to the side “Do you get along?”

"Well, let's say that every time we're together we end up fighting each other."

You look at him, "But you love each other."

"Yes. Well, I guess we have a typical sibling relationship."

"I guess so."

Joel watches you, you are thoughtful. As always. He would like to help you, but he knows that it's impossible.

“Do you have brothers?” Joel asks you, looking at your face. “Or sisters?”

“No, I was an only child.” you take a short pause “But I had a friend who was like a sister.” Joel listens “She was my best friend. We were always together. We were together when it all started,” you tell him, you stop for a moment thinking about her "Joel?" you ask looking up at him finding his eyes already on you “Why?” he cocks his head to the side “Why do you treat me differently? I thought you considered me a burden, or someone to get rid of at the first opportunity."

Joel doesn't answer right away, he looks at you for a long time and when you think he won't answer you, he instead replies "What happened to you affected me a lot."

You tsk, you knew it. Now he feels sorry for you. What you didn't want. You have always hated those words like 'it must have been terrible' or 'poor thing' or those looks with which they make you feel worse and feel a broken piece that needs fixing.

"So, for you too I'm someone to keep under a bell jar, to treat as if it could break at any moment, right?" you retort him.

Joel quirks an eyebrow, but doesn't answer. At least not right away, he observes an unspecified point and then says, "What happened reminded me of how self-destructive mankind is." you stare at him waiting for him to make a comment about you, but he doesn't "I did some horrible things that I'm not proud of. I’d say that I did it to save my ass and the few people I cared about, but deep down I know that I'm not a good one." he tells you by opening up to you for the first time.

You look at him and see him still stare into space. His facial features are tense, you can see him grinding his teeth, "What did you do?" you ask him in a low voice.

Only then does he look at you, "I've seriously injured and killed, stolen, looted corpses, sold contraband, beaten innocents and not ones, I drank until I forgot who I was. The prototype of the good guy, y'know."

You purse your lips, lowering your head and huddling in the blanket.

"You must have done it for a reason," you just say although you ain't convinced by what you say. You don't want to judge him, after all you don't know him and you too have done horrible things to get there.

"You believe?" he tsks before approaching you, you remain still. You gulp and look up at him “What if I only did it out of pure selfishness?” he looks at you “Is this a good reason too?"

“You did it to survive.” you reply quickly "I'm sure of it."

"And you didn't?" You look at him, "Didn't you do it to survive? I mean, whatever you did." he adds looking you in the eye.

You lower your head, stare at your feet, with those words Joel seems to have sucked the air out of you. You bring the edges of the blanket closer, holding them to your chest. You close your eyes and breathe deeply through your nose, then open them again.

"Our stories are different."

He nods "That's not much, but for sure," he comments "but there's the same epilogue, don't you think?"

"If you say so." you reply, looking at the darkness outside.

For a while you stay in silence, the only sound in the background is the chirping of crickets and the hooting of owls, every now and then you hear small movements around you, you make sure that they are only small animals and so nothing to worry about.

Jesse, Tommy, Clark and Stone continue to sleep blissfully.

You know you should keep watch and be vigilant, but your eyes are so heavy. You do everything you can to fight this pressing sleep, but in the end you give in.

You almost feel like you're being pulled upwards as if invisible wings were levitating you in mid-air and you feel so light. For the first time in many years you have a complete head emptied, free from any thought. It's so beautiful. You find yourself smiling in your sleep, how much you wish your life was this warm and soft too.

When you open your eyes, you immediately sit up, fuck, you were supposed to be on guard with Joel and instead you're there wrapped between two very heavy and soft blankets on a couch not too far from your lookout point and you look like an idiot. You cover your eyes in shame, now you've given Joel Miller another excuse to fuck with you. How stupid!

You expect giggles or mocking digs and instead all you find is Tommy drinking what looks like coffee outside the building "Morning," he says hearing you behind him looking at you sideways.

"I'm sorry, I fell asleep," you justify, rubbing your eyes and then looking around, "where’s everyone else?" you ask, looking for other faces nearby.

"Everyone's back except Joel and me." he replies by rubbing his hands to warm up, you are about to ask him where he is, but Tommy precedes you "He heard a noise and he went to check."

"And you let him go alone?!” Tommy looks at you and at that moment the look is identical to Joel's "Relax, ma'am, he's a grown man and he can stand up for himself and then he practically forced me to stay with you." you do your high ponytail again and immediately go inside and grab your bow and arrow, "Hey, where are you going?"

"Looking for him, which direction did he go in?" you ask him, slipping the bow over your shoulder.

"Don't be ridiculous! It's imprudent to venture out alone!" Tommy exclaims.

"Your brother is out there and I'm going to see if he's gotten into any trouble, will you come with me or will I go alone?" you reply using a tone that doesn't allow any replies.

Tommy rolls his eyes, "So stubborn!" he whispers shaking his head "Okay, let's go!" he exclaims, taking his rifle and following you.

Maybe you overreacted, but you almost felt a duty to do so. He came looking for you and helped you in a moment of great difficulty.

As you walk following the footprints Joel left in the snow, Tommy says "I have no trouble understanding how you get along with Joel! He can be very stubborn at times too." for a few steps he's silent "You would have gotten along with Ellie too if you had met her as she was a few years ago."

You turn to look at him for a moment, "I actually met her a while ago, she seems like a good kid, even if shy and angry at the world,"

"Not with the world, but with Joel!" Tommy exclaims as you frown and stop looking at him. Tommy has the expression of someone who talked too much and shouldn't have.

"What happened?" you ask him curiously.

"I can't talk about it, Joel would kill me!" He says before starting to walk again.

You raise your eyebrows with a surprised expression, but decide not to investigate. If he wants to talk about it, he will. Or maybe not.

Walking in some places is extremely difficult, it amazes you that Joel made it this far.

"There are footprints that lead in one direction and others in another, what do we do?" you ask uncertainly, clutching your bow.

"You go right and I'll go left," Tommy offers.

"But you said it was dangerous to separate!" you blurt out.

“Do you have a better idea?” he asks, as stupid as it sounds, you shake your head "Good! Then you go right and I'll go left," he reminds you before walking away from you.

You walk slowly hoping not to run into any trap, a light but cold wind picks up and you find yourself shrugging your shoulders and at the same time tightening your grip on your bow. You wonder why you are interested in someone like Joel, a person who did nothing but keep you away and push you away, but at the same time tries to keep you around.

Someone from behind pulls you away an instant before a trap snaps at your feet and you find yourself crushed against this person's chest. His hands hold your shoulders firmly, your coat is gripped tightly in his fists. You turn around only to see who saved you, it's Joel.

His expression is serious and breathless as if he ran to catch you so you don't end up with a broken ankle.

"Joel?!"

"What the fuck were you doing?" he asks sharply, taking his hands away from your coat.

"I came looking for you." you reply and his expression changes from serious to surprise. The expression in his eyes softens although the stern expression on his face has not yet disappeared "Sorry, it was stupid." you add lowering your head before look elsewhere.

"Yeah, it was. If I hadn't been here you could have bled to death or maybe eaten by wolves," you breathe through your nostrils, clutching your bow convulsively, he sighs "Let's go."

Not that you were expecting a thank you actually, but you feel a strange weight in the pit of your stomach as if you'd just been punched. In fact, perhaps receiving it would have hurt less.

It's late morning when the three of you return to Jackson. Maria and Dina welcome you and Tommy warmly, the two only nod to Joel as if he was a monster to be kept away and this different reception makes you feel really bad for him even though he treated you badly before.

You see him out of the corner of your eye, Joel leads the horse into the stable with heavy steps. You swallow, you are about to tell him to join you, when Dina drags you away inviting you to have a drink together to warm up in the freezing temperatures.

That morning, you see Ellie again at Tipsy Bison. She stands in a corner aside, you glance at her fleetingly, having a hard time reconciling what you see with the description Tommy gave you of her. Tommy's words resonate with you, she's mad at Joel.

Why?

You know it's none of your business, but you still wonder what could have happened between them that was so serious to cause such a break.

"Earth calls Moon!" Dina calls back to you, making you jump and blink several times before to answer her.

“Sorry, what were you gonna say?”

Dina rolls her eyes before smiling and saying, “I'd like you to meet Noah. He's a bit eccentric, he loves to party, but maybe you could like someone like him.” you giggle awkwardly “I’m serious. He's very cute and I think you'd get along well. I don't want to force you, but I've arranged to meet him here tonight.”

“Oh, thanks for respecting my time!” you exclaim, rolling your eyes.

“I didn't tell him he has a date with you, let's say I told him about the party here tonight and so...” she gives you a knowing wink, you roll your eyes again.

“I don't know,” you sigh.

“Try! Maybe you'll like him!”

You scratch your neck in an embarrassed gesture, “Okay. . .” you sigh, sipping your drink.

For that unusual evening, Dina insisted that you wear a dress of hers that a friend had made for her a while ago, but which she said was now too small for her. The dress itself is very simple and elegant, unusual for you. You don't particularly like this kind of clothes because they draw too many glances at you and you feel uncomfortable.

You walk into Tipsy Bison and look at how they've decorated that place. You've never seen so many lights illuminate it. It's amazing. You find yourself smiling as you look around and see Dina dancing and having fun with a guy who seems to be a great dancer. When she sees you, she waves her hand and walks away from the dancer.

“You did!” she exclaims “You’re beautiful!” she says smiling at you and you smile back shyly “This dress definitely looks better on you!”

“Thanks,” you look around nervously, “has the mysterious man arrived yet?”

“Oh yes, it's him.” she replies, turning towards the boy she was dancing with until a moment before.

You don't have time to say anything else because Dina waves the young man closer, “Hi.” He greets you. He has short brown hair and a light beard, green eyes, a warm voice and a big smile on his face. He's cute, you think.

“Hi,” you reply a little less warmly.

“So, um. . . Are you Dina's friend?” he asks you embarrassed.

“Well, I'm going to get something to drink,” she says, taking her leave.

You both look at each other sheepishly, “I'm sorry,” you tell him “I'm not used to these things.” you add, shrugging your shoulders.

“Me neighter.” he says, scratching the back of his neck “I haven't had a real date since before the outbreak,” you smile weakly “I'm Noah,” he introduces himself, stretching out his hand which you shake while saying your name.

“How long have you been here in Jackson?” he asks you.

“A few months. And you?”

“A year. It's weird that we've never seen each other before.”

“Well, I'm not a people person, I’m a very private one. I think it also depends on the fact that I was alone for a long time.”

“You don't need to say anything, what we lived has changed all of us.” you nod “The things we did to survive transformed us,” you gulp “let's not think about it now, come I'll offer you what you want.” he tells you smiling.

“A soda,” he nods “better not to drink.” you add, clearing your throat. Instead he takes a slightly alcoholic drink and then you sit down, you're both uncomfortable at first, then you find yourself talking about horse riding and playing the piano and so you have something to say to each other and actually start exchanging opinions, while there’s a gentle music in the background and someone is slow dancing. Including Dina and Ellie.

You look first at the two girls in surprise, then at Noah who smiles and looks back. “They're cute, right?” Noah asks you.

You nod, “I thought she was with Jesse, I didn't realize. . .”

It's an instant and the situation goes from being tender to tense as Seth, the owner of the place, uses an absolutely rude tone and manner towards the two girls. To make everything worse, Joel intervenes and, from what you understand, he isn't well received here. He chases Seth away from the two, or rather from Ellie, and Seth reacts to this behavior.

Luckily, Maria and Tommy intervene and separate the two men. You watch Maria and Tommy go out with Seth who blurts out about Dina and Ellie's indecent behavior towards the families and children who are in the club, but then your attention focuses on Joel and Ellie.

You don't hear what they say, but you observe the contrite look of the man who looks at the young woman and then also leaves the room. He doesn't see you, but you see the tears fly down his cheeks before he walks out of Tipsy Bison.

You feel so sorry for him that a part of you wants to run after him, but you're sure he won't thank you so you don't.

After that moment of great tension, the music starts again and everything goes back to how it was before. All in all, your evening was calm and pleasant, Noah and you discovered other passions in common and you therefore spent a pleasant evening. It hadn't happened to you for a long time and you even managed to relax a little.

When you come home, however, the scenario is anything but serene. You hear the fire crackle and find Joel in a deep state of despair, he can't stop drinking. You look at him worriedly, “Joel,” you groan sadly, you are thinking about what to say.

“Fuck off, I don't want your pity!” he blurts out, pouring himself another glass of amber liquid and gulping it down “Go away!”

“No, stop.” you desperately try to stop him, but he snatches the glass and bottle from your grasp dropping some on the ground “I don't feel pity for you, but understanding.” you breathe heavily “You know what, I want forget it too!” you blurt out, heading towards a cabinet where he keeps wines and spirits.

The bottle of whiskey is thick and heavy, you open it a little clumsily “Don't be stupid!” Joel exclaims as he approaches to snatch the bottle from your hands, but you precede him and drink from the bottle moving away from him.

“No!” you protest “I suffer too, Joel. But I don't drown it in a glass of vodka or try to forget who I am so I don't suffer. Fuck, it doesn't work like that!” you say, taking another sip of whiskey feeling the tears in the back of your eyes and feeling your throat and insides burning.

“Then, why are you drinking?” he asks you.

“So there will be two of us who will forget. You can talk to me and I won't remember a thing about what you confided in me.” you tell him, staggering closer to him without stopping to swallow that drink.

“You're crazy, you know?” he says, taking the bottle from your hands and placing it on the kitchen island. You nod.

Suddenly Joel no longer seems so clear nor his voice hoarse to your ears, everything seems to echo and the edges blur.

You don't even know how you ended up on that couch in his living room, half intertwined, he talks non-stop and you laugh about what he says or you simply find yourself snuggling closer against him. Your hand wanders along the open edges of his shirt, he stops your hand on more than one occasion, but you always find a way to start stroking the edge of his garment again until one of your fingers doesn't end up caressing the base of his neck and this time he completely wraps your hand in his and you look into each other's eyes without saying anything.

“Don't.” he tells you calmly after what seemed like minutes to you.

“You scared?” you ask placing one leg delicately between his and letting the dress show your legs and almost all of your thighs.

“‘bout what? You?” he asks, you smile weakly shaking your head “So what about?”

“That you can't have a normal life anymore. Do you ever think about your life and what it would have been like if the world had never ended?”

He breathes deeply, “To be honest, I dunno what I would have done with my life.”

“Try,” you encourage him.

He clicks his tongue and stares at the ceiling for a few moments, “Maybe… I would have started my own business company.”

You hum, “Were you in the sector?” he smiles faintly, putting an arm behind his head and in that light he doesn’t even seem that old.

“I was a contractor.” You nod. “I was pretty good, y’know.”

“I’m sure you still are, why don’t you build anymore?” you ask him curiously.

“Well, no one feels safe entrusting the construction of a house to a drunk,” he confides in you and you, in a fit of tenderness, or perhaps due to the alcohol, rest your head in the crook of his neck and close your eyes. He moves his arm again and this time places it on your back, which he caresses absentmindedly.

“Don’t be sad, lil’ one,” he tells you, almost mumbling and with a tone that perhaps was meant to be a reproach, but which instead moved you even more.

“I'm not,” you tell him, gently caressing his neck with your nose, while he brings his other hand to your thigh.

You flinch at that contact, you remember the last guy, oh it was a long time ago and the moment was anything but intimate.

Now you're with Joel and this moment has suddenly become anything but weird. It's probably the alcohol, but being with him has become pleasant and intimate. Even though he's constantly angry and sad, you know, you sense that he will never do anything that may hurt you.

His hand caresses you so gently that you shiver, every now and then you feel his nails tickling your skin and you find yourself swallowing emptyly. You close your eyes and savor that sweet touch reverberating throughout your body. You like it.

You let out a longer sigh, you feel him smile, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Joel?”

“Uh?”

“Have you ever been married?” you ask him sincerely curious.

“I was. For a while.” he tells you caressing the outer side of your thigh as slowly as before.

“I like it.” you say with a sigh.

“What? That I was married?”

You smile, “No, dummy. I like the way you caress me.”

He smiles, “You’re taking advantage of me because I’m very tipsy.”

Your smile widens, “I think you’re doing it too,” you mumble, pressing yourself a little tighter against him, inhaling his strong scent of musk, wood, leather, mint and alcohol.

Alcohol has always bothered you in terms of smell, but on him it becomes pleasant.

“I had my own opinion about you,” he suddenly tells you, opening and closing his eyes.

“Not a good one, I guess.”

He smiles, opening his eyes, “Of course not.”

You find yourself smiling and absentmindedly caressing that portion of chest that peeks out from the edges of his shirt.

“What now?” you ask him.

“I dunno.” he answers you in a vague tone.

You chuckle, “You are beautiful.” You blurt out before you can even think about it.

“This is what you think of me?” you smile at him, snuggling into his neck and kissing it gently “Whatcha doing?” he asks you as you feel him holding his breath.

“I like your scent,” you admit, deeply inhaling his scent.

You rest on one of your forearms, getting up slightly and finding yourself looking at his face that you now find decidedly pleasant.

He reaches out to your face, moving a large strand of hair out of the braid behind your ear and start caressing your cheek. Oh, his hand has such a soft, gentle touch even though it's calloused and chapped!

He caresses your lower lip with his thumb, you get the shivers without even knowing exactly why.

“You know, no one knows about these panic attacks of mine.” You pause. “I think that’s what I have, I’m not sure. Anyway, you’re the first and only one who’s been there for me. Thank you.”

He caresses your cheek with an unusual and disarming tenderness and intimacy, “Anytime.”

“Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it was this first real conversation of ours, but I almost feel like I don’t feel broken, but good. Alive, maybe. Yes, I feel alive,” you confess to him.

You are eye to eye. Those hazel eyes almost seem to turn honey-colored in the fireplace light.

“Joel?”

“Uh?”

“I want to kiss you,” you answer him with your eyes downcast, feeling almost suspended.

“Don't.” he says placing a fingertip on your lips.

You lower your head, “Sorry that was stupid.”

“It's not that. It's. . . Um, I don't think I remember how to do it,” he adds sheepishly.

You smile, reaching out to cup his cheek, “I trust you.”

He smiles weakly, “Is that why you drank with me?” you nod “What if I had attacked you? What if I had hurt you?”

“You couldn't. I know.” you reply caressing his right cheek.

He places his hand on yours, “You're wrong. You know nothing ‘bout me. I've done so many horrible things and if you were smart enough, you'd run away.” he says.

“And what did you do that was so horrible? You did what we all had to do to survive.” you tell him “I don't judge you.”

“And why you do?” he asks you.

“Because…” you fell silent for a moment with your head down “I killed, but not just to survive,” he looks at you in silence, slightly increasing his grip on your hand, “I killed the man who raped me. I can't stop seeing that scene before my eyes, but I can't regret what I did.” he doesn't comment on what you said, but lifts your hand from his cheek and brings it to his mouth, more precisely he brings your wrist to his mouth and kisses it delicately “I tried to kill myself. There was a moment when I felt like a monster and...” the words die in your throat.

He kisses your wrist even more intensely “Thank you.” you look at him perplexed “For coming looking for me. You were reckless, but thank you.” you smile at him.

“It took you a long time!” you tease him “I know you're sweet, but hardened by everything you've had to endure.” you add.

“Well, I think it's the same for you too. In short, you fought and even if. . . Um. . . broken, you are...” he appears unsure of the words to use “shit, I don't even remember how to give a decent compliment!” he curses, making you smile.

“Do we blame the whiskey and vodka?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“So can I blame the whiskey for what I want to do?” he nods, looking into your eyes.

You place your lips on his once, twice, three times, on the fourth he kisses you back placing his hands on your cheeks and deepening your kiss. “We'll regret it, you know?” he asks before he starts kissing you again and holding you tightly to him while you sink your hands into his grayish curly hair.

You feel so good, you look into each other's eyes for a long, long moment, then everything goes dark.

NEXT CHAPTER ➢

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orphicsun · 8 months ago

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Potions 'n Passions: Spooky Season Special

HALLOWEEN SPECIAL ONESHOT (Ellie Williams x witch Fem! reader)

BEFORE YOU READ: I want to do more Halloween/spooky type writing before October is over so if you have any ideas pls request!

Content: Oral sex(R! receiving), Jackson Ellie, witch reader, Dina doesn't really exist in this so the events of the game are tweaked to fit the story, violence, scary themes, gore(descriptions of bodies and witchy symbols engraved into skin) Smut with plot, this is more of a blair witch project type of witch than a cutesy romantic situation

Word Count: 3k

Summary: After Joel's death, a revenge thirsty Ellie would do anything to avenge the man who was practically a father to her. She had heard of countless urban legends of a frightening witch who hides away deep in the forests outside of Jackson. They say she can provide spells and potion, but everything has a cost. More dark stories say she's a vexing woman who has a few tricks up her sleeve. Determined to avenge Joel, Ellie leaves Jackson in pursuit of finding out if the legends of some wicked witch are true. If this witch could help her make those responsible for Joel’s death pay, Ellie would pay her a visit with no hesitation. However, what she finds is far from what she expected.

Ellie had been traveling outside of Jackson for a day and a half, and each step felt like she was barreling towards what could be a reckless mistake. A fatal mistake and in ways Ellie didn't even know existed. She knew what she was attempting was not conventional in any sense, however, what was the definition of conventional in a post apocalyptical world in which the person closest to you is brutally murdered? Ellie wasn't a dumbass; she knew going on a literal witch-hunt was like a horror story waiting to happen. But she was so desperate for revenge, to get justice for Joel and all that jazz, that she must've left her senses at home. And now here she was, deep outside of Jackson's sanctuary, snow crunching under her boots as she carefully treaded deeper into the forest.

The moon was full, and the frosty white ground was hardly visible under Ellie's tacky flashlight. The scene was almost eerie enough to make her turn around, but she persisted. Moonlight couldn't seem to reach through the trees. Odd, Ellie thought. These trees were not much different from the ones near Jackson. She forced herself to brush the observation off as the tree types being different than the ones back at home. She tried to ignore the insistent feeling in her gut, the little voice in the back of her mind that begged her to turn around. However, the auburnette was far too determined for that.

Before Joel's death, Ellie had already heard the ridiculous tales of the 'witch of the woods'. She would scrunch her nose up in irritable disbelief, because how could anyone ever believe in something so stupid? Jackson's elders droned on and on, mouthing cautionary tales of some woman far, far away from Jackson who could grant wishes with spells and potions. At first, Ellie found the stories to be cute. What was a town without a little spook behind it? However, as these stories went from classic Halloween folklore and became "the witch uses magic to create ritualistic symbols”, and “those patrollers definitely went missing because of the witch of the woods!", Ellie found them to be a nuisance. They were starting to scare the kids! And for what, a little bit of entertainment? And who would ever be desperate enough for something in this fucked up world that they'd visit some witch to get what they wanted?

Well, that someone was now her. When Joel was killed, her first thought definitely was not, “oh, I should track down the ‘devil’s mistress’, as old man Eugene loved to refer to her as. However, nothing seemed to work in her favor in suit of her vengeance. She had no information on those responsible for what happened, and the other people in the settlement seemed to move on with their lives. It took Ellie a total of two weeks after his death to even consider what she was about to do. However, the thought of that witch really existing, and sending some horrific curse on those who took Joel away was too satisfying of a thought, it couldn’t help but fester in her brain. Plus, she was out of options.

Ellie expected to feel spooked as she walked through the forest, that much was expected. However, she couldn’t continue to brush off the abnormal observations that couldn’t be explained by science. They started with footprints in the snow. And no, not just shoe prints. Ellie crouched down carefully and she didn’t know what she was looking at. ‘Why the hell would someone be barefoot in the middle of a forest, deep in snow?’ If only this was closer to Jackson, then she could theorize that some dumbass on patrol had a case of paradoxical undressing due to the frigid temperatures. If only she could say it was an infected footprint. Part of her knew it couldn’t be, though. However, the next sight was even more odd.

There was what seemed to be a stick figure crafted of sticks, tied together by thin, brown rope. Now, this was inexplicable. This felt so familiar to her. And then, it hit her. Those old stories that circulated in Jackson, those silly legends had to be true, because while she hadn’t paid much attention to the absurd details, she remembered Eugene’s explanation of some ‘clearly satanic conception.’ Did Ellie turn back when she saw a straight line of these figures leading down a steep hill? No, no she did not. She took it as a desperate but hazy sign to keep going.

The steep, snowy hill was not expecting any visitors, and Ellie's footing was lodged into an root, sending her tumbling down at full speed.

Ellie's eyes flickered opened before shutting again, fluttering multiple times before they finally opened to look up at the pitch dark sky. She felt a burning sensation all over, and that's how she knew she had been out for a while. Her skin was freezing cold and frost bite would soon threaten to make its appearance if it hadn't already. However, that wasn't the only pain present. The once purely white flakes that indulged the ground were now littered by crimson droplets. Blood. The adrenaline from the fall began to falter, and Ellie struggled to sit up, her gaze flickering down to the matching red hue coloring her shirt. With shaky hands, she carefully lifted her shirt to find an engraving in her abdomen. It was horrific to look at, and was seemingly randomly placed. A little star symbol. Now, Ellie was full-fledge panicking. Shallow breaths, racing thoughts of her already fading life, and most significantly, an utter sense of bewilderment.

It felt as if hours had gone by since Ellie had accepted her own death. She went out looking for some magical witch who could save her some her grief, give her some justice. Now, she was starting to see the darkest parts of reality in an already tainted world. Ellie wanted to think of more questions to increase her confusion, like why no infected had found her, or why the stick figures that once lined a path for her were suddenly gone without a trace. But all minor wonders seemed to have left her. It was a split second blink, and then there was a building in the far distance.

Moss plastered the humble wood, and there was a faint glow visible from the windows, a faint pulse of electricity. There couldn’t have been any generators around. Ellis knew she was close to something ultimately wicked and sinful, yet she couldn’t stop herself from limping forward towards the home with numb digits and a bloodied abdomen. She felt life slip faster and faster out of her grasp, and determination failed her as she hit the ground once more.

Ellie groaned as she came back to her senses. Her vision was a blurry haze, and her mind was reeling from a weird sense of doom. It was as if her whole body was telling her to run, to evacuate whatever place she was currently in, but the unfortunately reasonable part of her brain told her it was too late for that. She could feel a presence. Ellie remembered some of the old folks in town talking about danger, about how certain aspects of it left you sensing it before you even saw it. But what could she do now? She heard it first.

“Tell me your name..I cannot read you.” It was a voice..it was almost alluring to the auburn girl, which she found strange. The last few hours, she had been introduced to countless ugly horrors. Now, a beautiful feminine voice was ringing into her ears, poisoning her mind. Finally, her eyes reacher clarity and she opened them to see the scene before her.

The room was dark with only candlelight guiding her vision. There were vials of liquids on the dusty shelves that she couldn’t identify. The windows were boarded up with wooden planks from the outside, making the building look as if it were abandoned. However, the sight in front of her was one she couldn’t have predicted from a witches’ lair.

You were beautiful. Beautiful didn’t even put it into words. You had silky, ravenous curls that reached your waist. Your face was utter perfection, as if some Greek philosopher had taken years to debate such a beauty, and some renaissance painter had layered millions of years worth of sublimity onto you. As if some sculptor had carved the very meaning of life into your mold. You could’ve been blinding and Ellie still wouldn’t have been able to look away. She’d seen countless girls in her life, yet none were as alluring as the witch before her. However, she still couldn’t shake the sense of terrible danger that resonated into her soul at the sight. No mortal or even right immortal could be so beautiful and still so good.

“Name. Tell me your name, please.” There it was again, that harmonic call of yours. Ellie tried to find her words, clearing her throat.

“Ellie,” she managed to croak, her voice dry from disuse. It was immature, but she felt self-conscious at the sight of such a beautiful creature.

Your hands held the back of Ellie’s head, and the contact was electric. You were exactly what she needed, an installation of warmth set deep into her body, filling her up like a hearty soup. If only you were that harmless. If only you were actually good for her. Bless that poor lesbian’s heart.. It was harder and harder to remember what she was even doing in this situation, but somehow you already knew.

“I know what you’re here for, Ellie. Revenge..” God, the way your voice indulged into her name like it was made for your lips. However, she had to stay focused. Her brain registered that this event could’ve been a major trap, and your words reminded her to stay somewhat aware. The girl simply nodded, and you leaned forward. Ellie was now aware that she was laid out on a tattered bed, you towering over her body. She suddenly remembered something vivid, the very reason she sought out the building, and her fingertips traveled to feel her abdomen. No branding, no mark on her. However, any concerns or protests she had died down. It was as if she was numbed down, mind clear and yet so hazy. A trance.

You leaned forward and your soft lips tugged upward. The strange feeling in her gut telling her that you were dangerous, a force of nature not to be messed with ceased to get through to her body as she leaned in as well. Your breath fanned over her face, and your scent enveloped Ellie’s nostrils until she finally succumbed to it, her lips chasing after yours.

Ellie told herself that it wasn't her that made the first move. You were mystical; you tempted her, lured her body in ways she couldn't control. You were tempting in ways no mortal could control. Part of her knew that this could end horribly, that she was indulging in her mere lust, but all she could feel was the way your strangely warm lips caressed hers like an embrace of mouths her body craved. She didn't know if witches even had souls or not, but she found a certain type of comfort in the way you provided her with everything she needed. She wasn't thinking about her battle with loss, or Abby and her friends. She was in need of a respite you neutrally gave out.

Each moment felt enhanced, time moving slow as your lips continued to connect and tease each other. You were sitting back and allowing her to lavish attention to your boundless body. You could do anything you wanted to her and you knew that. Hell, Ellie did too. But she just couldn't find it in her to pull away. The outside world was distant, cold, and marked with bodies she used to love. You could give her everything.

Ellie's fingers desperately grasped your face, pulling you closer, her touch uncontrolled and needy. She was worshipping you as if you were some deity. Your lips were so soft, so rosy and perfect against hers while she was stuck in her mortal body, her form chapped and worn but eager nonetheless. Tongues met, yours still somehow so warm and slick against hers, and Ellie let out a soft whine. Usually, she'd never be this impatient. She wouldn't be this needy or this forward, but something deep inside her pussy was telling her she needed to take this moment for granted. Afterall, not everyday can you spend making out with a witch.

Ellie's hands wandered from her hold on your face to your shoulders, taking in your feminine form so perfect she could worship it for hours. She would be, in fact. And the best part was that you just let her. Somehow, you were telling her that this was how it was meant to be. Her palms moved to caress your breasts, how they fit so perfectly in her hands, she needed to visualize soon or she'd die.

And you only confirmed your awareness when you slipped off the clothes that were mended to your body, giving Ellie what she so desperately craved. Ellie noticed the way natural science of light opposed to your body, the way shadows avoided your frame. Your body was a work of art, a natural horror show if she ever knew one, and the branding on your hip was the same as hers yet the fading gut feeling telling her this was wrong disappeared as her fingertips brushed upon the indent the symbol made. However, Ellie's mouth had different wishes, instead latching onto one of your breasts, suckling at your nipple and almost fainting at the taste. Your skin was like a berry bush she wanted to eat away at for the rest of her life span, only so short but fulfilling.

Her lips trailed lower, tongue leaving a wet trail down your stomach and lapped at your hip, observing the way your face tilted back in what could only be identified as pleasure. So you weren't so mysterious after all. Ellie's mouth had a mind of its own, slipping further below until she reached your vagina. She was practically drooling at your body, the way your eyes stared down at her as if you knew the hold you had over her while she was only here to please you. Then it hit her.

That was her purpose here, wasn't it? The request she had kept away in her mind when she embarked upon her journey to you was a large one. Ellie had requested a great harm upon people and had expected you to deliver her greatest justice without payment. This was her payment: your pleasure. This didn't seem to deter her, as she finally placed sweltering smooches to your clit before wrapping her swollen lips around it. You were not holding back your own reactions, eyes glazing over with an obscene amount of pleasure, your brows shifting slightly upwards. This wasn't just a physical situation, but a comfort to your own soul too. That was a vulnerability shared without words, causing Ellie to only double down on her actions, her desperation to please you causing her tongue to find its way into your aching hole, tongue-fucking you with efforts greater than expressed by words. Enough was said telepathically.

Ellie's humble nose bumped away at your clit, and she had enough of playing it safe. She needed you. Ellie pulled away for only a moment to slide two fingers into your slick hole, not thrusting or jamming but instead brushing against the most sensitive spots inside of you as if she was intending to love you. In that moment, Ellie could've. And maybe she did. It wasn't improbable to say Ellie was overcome by the situation at hand, overcome by her own adoration for such a perfect woman. You were the peak of love, the arc of nature. The flat of her tongue nudged at your clit while her fingers continued on with their pace. Nothing could ever satiate her like the nectar that oozed from your most intimate form as she adored it with greedy hands.

When she finally felt you twist and bend with your peak, she couldn't help but marvel at the sight, the sounds, the sensations of wetness on her calloused fingers and tongue. She tried to coax the pleasure further out of you like a sailor baiting at fish, but she could hardly focus. The sight above her, the expressions she received from you, the velvet-sounding moans so delightful to hear were messing with her head.

When Ellie awoke, her head throbbed painfully. However, the expectation she had to awake in your lair were far from granted, as she seemed to awake in Jackson's infirmary. Not much was discussed about her trip. If anyone asked if Ellie had truly discovered some urban legend witch, she'd appear offended, her voice trailing off into a quiet denial. However, some things couldn't be hidden, even if she tried to distance herself from her night spend with a witch.

Several bodies were found not far from Jackson, all stripped of clothing, cold in the snow with symbols tattered across almost every inch of their skin. Most were nearly identifiable by the brutal weather. However, chillingly, one observation made was a female with a blonde braid in her hair, her body fairly strong and healthy. Ellie was given what she wanted, of course. She soon seemed to realize the memories of Joel never ceased. The pain never lessened as your body promised her.

Ellie came to realize after all was said and done that you weren't the perfection she seemed to chase after relentlessly. She would never fully pay you off for you lurked in her dreams when she tossed and turned, haunted by visions of your silhouette, of screams deep in the forest, sometimes haunted by her journey more than Joel. It wasn't only just sex, though. Your voice and the few words you shared only made the connection tethered more closer. You uttered so little yet her feelings were anything but just a divine lust. You would follow her heart, tear at it until the day she died, buried next to Joel in a shallow grave. Ellie was starting to wonder if even death would cut away at the curse you placed upon the poor girl.

#ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie the last of us #tlou2

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cowgirlcherrie · 2 years ago

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THE PRINCESS DIARIES — *ೃ༄

rockstar! ellie x princess! fem! reader. wc: 11.4k

synopsis: discovering your sense of self after a lofty adjustment to the throne, your guitar-wielding ex-fling shows you that you shouldn’t hate the world.

warnings: 18+. MDNI Sarah is alive in this and is r! best friend, Abby cameo, WOC coded fem! reader, mentions/talks of death, jealousy, smoking (Ellie smokes cigs), bickering, arguing, enemies to lovers, closely inspired by The Princess Diaries movie, mean-ish! Ellie, cursing, rushes to perfection, panic attacks r! has one, anger management classes/ anger issues, Ellie is kinda reckless in this, College-modern! Ellie adjacent, kissing, mentions of hook-ups. best friends sister kinda thing, petnames (princess, dear, baby), kinda slow burn

━━ ♪ Enchanted by taylor swift, I know you by faye webster

a/n: hi my loves this is an almost 200 followers gift, because I love you guys all so much and I'm so glad that you are supporting and enjoying my work, please enjoy because this is a long but sweet one similar to my totally clueless work, inspired by one of the cutest movies everrr - 100% inspired by this art that I’ve seen as welll♡♡

It was time to trade your t-shirt and skirts for dresses, converses to heels. Rags to riches. Royalty knocked on your door like a death sentence, and you were sick of it.

“Did you seriously give my cat a tiara?”

This was not the first thing you wanted to see coming back to your dorm after a dreadful 3-hour class. Your precious golden locked tabby resting on your pink decorative pillow with a toddler tiara on his head — contrasting the scowl on his face as soft meows left his mouth in discomfort. He almost looked like yourself. Bitter and dissatisfied.

This seemed to be an everyday occurrence. Your vivacious roommate, Sarah Miller, loved to tease you about the title you hated the most. Royalty. With Royalty comes nobility and class. The ball gowns, prestige, and perfection almost made you want to throw up at the sight of it. But you couldn’t bail for the sake of Glendale being without a ruler or the public shame, you couldn’t back out – It was far too late.

When the words Princess Hier fell out of your grandmother’s mouth, you felt every wall of comfort fall down. A safety shell forms around your body, fighting the change. The change was supposed to be good, but this felt mentally taxing. Not like it was the end of the world — however, to your peace and serenity it was. Moderately shying away from public acknowledgment would be more conventional to you.

“Isn’t he cute, a little prince…of Glendale” Sarah laughed, rubbing your cat’s face to which he jumped off the bed, hiding underneath the plush mountain that was your mattress. All you could do was groan. Throwing your body dramatically onto your bed, The Jackon U baby tee on your body lifting up slightly to expose your stomach as you inhaled and exhaled deeply.

“Wish I could retire myself from the royal family” you dragged, looking at your phone now to see the arrangements of messages. Specifically, the one from your grandma saying you had princess training and a brunch with her at 5 tomorrow.

“Isn’t that all we ever dreamed about…hell you even have a personal bodyguard,” Sarah emphasized, “How cool is that!” the girl sat on her bed, painting her nails a plush pink color humming the tune of the Ariana Grande song that she recently bought on vinyl.

Sarah was right, whilst it sounded good, the thought of exchanging your personal freedoms for a title disgusted you. How were you to be the people’s princess when you couldn’t even navigate adulthood properly? It was strikingly overwhelming. Your mother, coddling you away from the fate of your future just made it worse.

You groaned again, “Next subject…”

“Will you be here tomorrow? Going to Ellie’s, the band is practicing for the Spring Festival” Sarah inquired while blowing on her nails with ease. Right…Ellie. Your sworn enemy Ellie, Sarah’s sister…Ellie. She was enigmatic to you, certainly, the type you don’t bring home to Mama, just a rebellious firecracker. You could smell the faint aroma of cigarettes and wood just by thinking about her. Her presence was frustrating to you. Surely she felt the same.

You weren’t sure how you have come to dislike Ellie, it seemed set in stone, written off in the stars for the two of you. At the first meeting, you thought everything was perfect. That she would be a friend, not a foe. You found Ellie to be quite pretty, with short hair and tattoos to contrast your girly attitude. She wore a large leather jacket when you first met her. Cigarette hanging lowly from her lips as she smiled at you. Chartreuse orbs twinkled as her hand was out for yours to shake. You were naive, she was an arrogant know-it-all, but not with you.

Wherever there was Sarah, there would certainly be you, the blonde dragging you to every event, every show. You were Sarah’s cheerleader, Ellie’s too. You recalled the night you and Ellie got stuck stargazing on the rooftop of the science building. It seemed downhill from there, an accidental liplock where you made home with her lips on yours. The pillow-like clouds that encompassed your own, despite her rough attitude, she was gentle with you.

Her hands held your waist as if you were fragile. She kept pushing, kept kissing until her cheeks were flushed red and breathing seemed obsolete. She kissed like she would never see you again, as if you were dissipating in her hands. With Sarah to your rescue, Ellie had to ruin the moment by saying, “Don’t tell anyone”

So you didn’t. It was your little secret. Pushing your newfound feelings aside and instead found yourself wandering eyes to Lacrosse player #5, Abby Anderson. The first time you brought it up, you were certain that Ellie Williams officially despised you.

“There’s this girl…I really wanna get with her by the end of the semester” You told Sarah, the two of you sitting in the band basement’s brown couch. The two of you gossiped after her band practice. You swore that there were only the two of you in the room, not caring to whisper or lower your tone.

“Oh my…what’s her name?” Sarah whispered as she leaned into your figure, prying for more.

“Abby, on the lacrosse team.” You confessed making Sarah’s jaw drop in shock.

“No way, everyone fucking wants Abby! She’s hot though, and you’re hot too…If the two of you were alone in a room I think you truly could hook up with her!” Sarah chimed in, nodding her head in pleasure. You could only giggle. “No way”

“Yes!..way!”

“No—”

“I don’t see it” Ellie spoke up making her presence known in the room. Walking to where her guitar stood on the stand to unplug it from the amplifier. Your body jumped at her sudden entry, the pitter-patter of your heart, beating like a knocker on the door. You weren’t sure if it was her presence that made you nervous or if it was the fact that she was saying no, to you seeing someone else.

Was it anxiety? Fear? Or sadness? Possibly all 3.

“Huh,” you mumbled, smile dropping as you eyed her figure who wasn’t paying attention to you. Vision getting cloudier by the second.

“Just saying…you’re gullible, overly trusting and fuckin’ virginal…she’ll wreck you – probably hit n’ quit [Ellie!]” The sound of glass shattering replayed in your head. Your lips were separated, but a sound refused to escape your lips. Waterline full of crystal clear tears as the room, and the girl in front of you grew shiny. The words that Ellie said sticking with you. It was cold and low of her, Ellie even knew she might have gone too far, masking her feelings with the coldness that felt like a warm hug to her. Ellie knew better, finally looking at you, her heart tearing at the sight of disbelief on your face. Watery eyes, she was fucked up. But Ellie wanted you to let it go. She wanted to let you go.

It wasn’t for her, hell it was for you. If Ellie wasn’t so emotionally constipated she would have changed her mind and been honest with you. The way your glossed lips felt on hers that night, she could get used to you being hers, that’s all she could ever dream about since it happened. Since you shook her hand the day the two of you first met. She wanted you to be hers.

Ellie Williams was a first-class asshole.

Now you never ended up dating Abby, hell you wish you did. Choosing to drop your little crush and focus on yourself instead. Especially after finding out your royal status, love seemed immature, and off the table – almost overrated. Others, however, thought the future was bright for Ellie and yourself. Sarah was convinced the two of you would end up dating in the future, often rambling about how the both of you would hate each other so much, that you end up infatuated with each other. All bullshit.

Lies.

“Just hearing her name makes me barf!”

“You’re so dramatic!” Sarah yelled, shaking her head at your response “M’not going”

“It’s from 2-4 and I know you aren’t doing anything, just come! You get to hear the song I’ve been working on for the past week and a half…please” Sarah began, her voice was convincing. Hell, she was always a little too convincing, you couldn’t find it in yourself to ever tell the sweet girl no. You were getting ready to shake your head, giving the girl a guilty look as she pleaded some more, this time she fluttered her eyes at you, hopping off of her bed to come onto yours shaking her hand on your shoulder. “Sorry…Sarah”

“Pleaseee…I’ll make sure Ellie doesn’t bother you!”

Your eyes snapped open. “Out of sight, out of mind — I’ll come” you hissed as Sarah only jumped in excitement, throwing her body down to hug your figure. Making you let out a huff in surprise, followed by a laugh at the sudden weight. It was times like this that you enjoyed with your best friend. The moments where she said yes, and you said no but she’ll change your mind and in the end, remorse wasn’t something you felt.

But then you thought back to people who weren’t Sarah, the rest of the band…Ellie, your little princess secret wasn’t out yet hell you haven’t even given it the green light. People talk like trees in the wind. It was only a matter of time before the tabloids got sold a story and your face was plastered on every newspaper.

JNU PRIDE? Princess of Glendale goes to Jackson U

Princess of Glendale likes to kiss girls!

Princess of Glendale…party monster?

Your brain combusted at the thought of seeing you headlining the news with some obnoxious title. You dreaded it — looming over you like a giant storm cloud. You shoved Sarah off of you, staring at the girl with your pinky out, “Can you promise me something?” You started, eyes full of seriousness and a fury like no other, you were no longer laughing.

“You cannot tell anyone [Ellie?] not even Ellie, about my princess duties…not yet, I’ll do it on my own.”

Sarah now was mirroring your serious expression, kissing her pinky softly before wrapping it around your own with great force and weight.

“You’re secret safe with me…Princess”

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

Somewhere along the way you were sure anyone could see the steam blowing out of your ears in anger. Sarah, while convincing, was not convincing enough. You should have opted out. Sitting on the rundown sofa in the band’s garage, You were certain Ellie was going to snap your head off. Part of you wondered why you still didn’t like the girl, was it her cockiness, overly large ego, or the way her hair shined like a fresh berry in the sun, or the constellation-like freckles on her—

“What are you doing her– is that my sweater?” the redhead rolled her eyes while tuning her guitar. Ellie’s eyes looked you up and down, slowly tracing her eyes from the pearl white knee-high socks, and black mini skirt before landing on the blue graphic crewneck you wore. Her once soft gaze now hardened, as if she suddenly had the realization of where the two of you stood.

“This is not yours…it’s Sarah’s” You snap, crossing your arms across your chest. Ellie was next to you on the couch, The familiar scent of cigarettes and wood drowning your nostrils, it was intoxicating. Like fumes of a fire.

“...and where do you think Sarah got it from?” Ellie responded with a condescending tone in voice. She was pushing your buttons today, maybe slightly harder than she actually does.

“I Don’t remember you being such a —”

“Such a what–”

You paused. Ellie looked away from her guitar to now glaring at you. Ellie’s hand was up to her ear, queuing that she was listening, eyebrows raising slightly. Your lips sealed tightly, as you sunk your body into the couch, trying to camouflage yourself from her vision. The room suddenly felt small. Air thick almost choking you.

“Thought so” Ellie spat, dismissing you with her hand while she continued to tune her guitar. Bitch, you muttered under your breath, now looking around to see if Sarah suddenly decided to make her re-entry. “Heard that”

The room was silent once more. The strumming of Ellie’s fingers hitting the G or the B chords filled the room, assisted by your small coughs. You could feel her body heat radiating to you, despite being so close yet so far on the couch – a noticeably large gap between the two of you.

Ellie now rested her guitar flat on her lap, digging through her pockets and taking out a black light, along with a pack of Marlboro reds. Placing the toxin between her lips – cupping her free hand to block the wind from the flame. Ellie shook her head to herself as she exhaled the smoke.

“How are you?” she questioned out of the blue, tucking the lighter back in her pocket.

This was weird. Highly, extremely weird. The two of you bickered so much that you forgot what a normal conversation with her felt like. “How was your day?” was enough to break the ice, it surely was better than a “go home” or some outrageous insult she could think of. She was making small talk. Cheap chat.

“Fine…yeah I’m alright” you mumbled bringing a finger up to your mouth, chewing away at the flesh surrounding your nail. The pregnant silence filled the air again, Ellie’s bracelet jingled as she brought the cigarette to and from her mouth. Her left leg now bouncing up and down. “How…about you?”

Your eyes darted to the cigarette, watching as it burned quickly, the ashes building up, while Ellie would wait for the ash to build before cutting it away in the tray.

“Fuckin’ fine too…” Ellie’s raspy voice wavered, almost as if she wasn’t trying to convince you more so herself. Her sudden movements were screaming that there was something that she wanted to say. The pace of her leg bouncing sped up while she also flipped the lid of her cigarette box opened and closed, almost feening for another stick in her mouth – perhaps the whole box.

“You don’t…look fine” You challenge, tilting your head at the girl next to you.

“Thanks, captain, fuckin’ obvious…not that you would care though” Ellie combatted, blowing the cigarette smoke away from your face. This time her hand was tangled in her hair, threading her fingers through her hair before pushing them back out and to the nape of her neck.

You shrugged “M-Maybe I do…”

“Oh sure, you do” Ellie laughed sarcastically, putting out the end of her cigarette, followed by a cough.

“You fuckin pry to everyone around you…or just me?” Ellie was getting mean. She didn’t mean to, the delivery of everything she would say getting more aggressive, and that was frustrating her even more. The girl swore she was working on being a better communicator – requested by Sarah who had to check Ellie for everything she said.

“Yeah, I totally pry to fucking bitchy assholes!” You yelled at Ellie. The tone of the room was shifting, the hostility growing back with swiftness.

“You and your prissy little attitude…”Ellie began, shaking her head as she turned her body this time to look at you, shrugging off the guitar from her lab, instead placing it next to the couch “You think Abby would have put up with how much of a brat you act?... Sorry Princess don’t think so” Ellie finished, clenching her jaw as she let out a heavy sigh.

“So this is what it’s about? Abby?” Your voice was harsh, as your body was also facing Ellie, this time the gap between the two of you was closing.

“Who— what the fuck? Who said this was [you did!] the fuck? I didn’t, [you literally said that!] I mentioned Abby [which was months ago!]...shut up! and you got selfish [and you’re not?] Yeah actually!” the two of you were going back and forth this time. Talking over each other as your voices got louder and louder. Abruptly ending as Ellie reached out to grab your shoulders to get you to stop speaking.

“Get off!” You shouted. Tugging at Ellie’s hands – they only seemed to get tighter.

“Listen, I think…in some other shitty universe we truly could have gotten along with each other…you wouldn’t hate me and I wouldn’t hate you.” Ellie slipped, vulnerability spilling out of her mouth like water, that was the last straw.

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Why do YOU hate me?” Ellie was silent at your question, but it gave you everything you need to know. You kissed your teeth, laughing to yourself as you shook your head in disappointment.

“Well I’m glad it isn’t this one” you responded. Your voice was like a smack to the face. Ellie’s hands fell limp at your shoulders, loosening their weight now giving you room to peel them off as you stood up from the couch. After a quick smooth-out to your skirt, and grabbing the black purse that was next to you, all Ellie could do was watch as your figure walked further and further away.

As you opened the door, Sarah was now making her grand return, occupied by her cell phone but pulling you aside. From all Ellie could see, was your urgency to leave, Her fingers found their way to her lips rubbing them as she cursed under her breath. Sarah shifted her head to lock eyes with Ellie, Narrowing them. Making Ellie quickly turned into her seat sinking in the chair, bringing her hands up to shield her head. Ellie’s head was rushing – like a file cabinet with disorganized folders. Your absence was sealed with the slam of the door behind you, making Ellie exhale.

Sarah cleared her throat, anger deep in her voice, “Ellie what did you do?”

Ellie exploded, “FUCK!”

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

“Straighten your spine, chin up, relax the shoulders”

This time, you were at your Grandmother’s Mansion It was almost impossible to relax when all you could think about was Ellie’s words to you prior. Her words played in your brain like a broken VCR, your body tensing at the thought of it. The hunch you had of the rebellious girl hating you plagued your thoughts, did she really mean that? Whilst you might have disliked the girl for her abrupt change in attitude you certainly didn’t hate Ellie. Your heart tore at the fact that she visibly felt the opposite.

“Princess, where is your head?...” your grandmother shouted with concern, you still couldn’t focus on your princess training lessons. Shrugging the book off of your head, used to control your posture, now choosing to place it in your lap as you sat next to your grandmother by the outdoor water fountain.

“Dear, should we cut to tea time [No! Let’s keep going]…?”

“I don’t think I could do this” you exhaled, fiddling your fingers on top of the book. You didn’t wanna cut yourself short, but all you could do was hermit and hide yourself away. All for some petty argument.

“Do what, dear?”

“This Princess…stuff – all respect! But I just don’t think it’s for me” you concluded, your words left a bitter taste in your mouth, putting your head down while you refused to look at your grandmother. You knew her face would be frowning, the wrinkles on her face exaggerating her apparent disappointment, displaying every bit of her age. Your hands started to grip your skirt, twisting and turning the fabric before finding a strand of thread, pulling the lining through as white web-like thread pooled in your hands.

“Okay…What’s wrong? Boy or Girl drama?” Your grandmother asked as if she was onto your behavior – She was reading you like a book. Her frail and boney hands reached over to grab at yours to stop you from pulling the threads of your skirt. You rubbed your gloss lips together, feeling the sticky substance provide you with mild comfort.

“Do you think I’m hateable…Grandma?” You blurted out, voice small, barely coming out as a whisper, snaking your hand tightly to your grandma’s that was on top of yours. The older woman gave your hand a squeeze “Oh dear, that’s nonsense – you are wonderful! Slightly rough around the edges, but you are an amazing daughter, I’m sure you’ll make an excellent princess…an even better lover”

Your Grandmother gave you just the affirmation you needed, negative thoughts whisking away one by one. The elder abruptly stood up, fixing her tiara and pantsuit holding one arm out in front of you.

“Let’s walk, we have a lot to chat about” Her English accent was thick but she sounded elegant and proper. Great care and delicacy came with her voice. You followed her footsteps locking your arm with hers. The two of you walk through the courtyard, moving at a slow pace but perfect enough for the older woman to give you a lecture.

“The royal ball is this Saturday, followed by your induction ceremony on Sunday, I would like to know your decision” She discussed to which you let out a groan. The truth was you hadn’t made a decision yet, drowning yourself in academic work and the Ellie drama, it surely was the last of things you wanted to be focused on.

“I–”

“I know what you’re thinking, your father was the same way too.” Your lips folded into each other at the mention of your father. You didn’t quite know the man, hell after his death your mother never mentioned him. Living with your mother in the refurbished firehouse, haunted by the pictures of him that felt like a pure imagination – Nothing other than a dream. No letter, no heirloom, nothing. But this certainly was something, right?

“You know Y/n you are just like him, even down to the looks – a spitting image of that man” Your grandma started, making you tilt your head at the analogy, “But what makes you different is your honesty, your father never knew what he wanted, except for the fact that he was adamant on trading royalty for a mundane type of love”

“He abandoned the throne?” You mumbled, looking away from your grandmother and facing the greenery in the garden. Tough conversations come at the time that you felt were improper. This was really not the conversation you were in the mood to have. Did she think you’d do the same?

The elder bit her tongue, “In simple terms, yes” A heavy sigh escaped your lips – not failing to go unnoticed by the older woman alongside you. “But I have a proposal for you…” Your grandmother began, this made your ears perk up, stopping her walk so you could hear her loud and clear. Perhaps if it wasn’t for the obnoxiously pollinated shrubs triggering your allergies, you could have heard her better.

“I think it would be great for you to find a date for the ball” Your eyes went wide almost like two tennis balls. There was no way that you would find one. Sarah had a date with some guy Saturday, and your other friend Dina had mumbled something about band practice. It just seemed near impossible. In full honesty, you’d rather be alone.

“Grandma, if I’m being honest…I don’t have anyone” You confess shyly, rubbing your hands at your temples and feeling the faint pulse come along. Certainly, Tylenol or a bandaid couldn’t fix the issue you were having.

“Your presence is still expected…I hope you think about it well, Princess”

If you thought you were dead, you certainly would have so wished now. The faint noise of whispered arguing filled your ears – muffled but with bass, while your head was tucked into a pillow. It almost sounded like bees gossiping in a hive. Noisy and irritant. All the noise seemed to stop when you let out a groan, twisting your body to face the white wall. Despite being in your sleepy state, the presence of warm bodies didn’t fail to interrupt the intimate moment you were having with your sheets. Your eyes fluttered open, blurry vision adjusting with a rub to the delicate skin around your eyes – body sitting up with vastness. Turning towards Sarah’s bed, your body jolted at the sight in front of you. Sarah sitting on her bed, staring at you with concern – Ellie to her left, looking at you with fear and sadness. Ellie was giving a pity look, and she never gave one of those. Something was wrong.

“What’s wrong with you both? Why do you look like that?” You snapped, the silence was overbearing. Uncomfortable almost. Snatching the bonnet off of your head, which dropped the silky blown-out silk press you had gotten done yesterday. Reaching over to your desk to grab the pink hair brush to smooth out your hair. It is still silent – still, from Sarah and Ellie’s end as they watched every movement you made, in fear almost. This was starting to frustrate you.

“Okay, seriously what’s up?” You grimaced, hopping off of your dorm bed to look at the alarm clock on your desk, seeing 9:45am flash repeatedly. The two were acting weird. Sarah gave Ellie a guilty glance, her lips parted as her blue orbs made their way back to you.

“Have you seen the news?” Sarah blurted out making Ellie tilt her head in irritation, “God Sarah shut up!” Ellie yelled, trying to silence the blonde next to her. Ellie gave you a nervous look, twirling the bracelet on her tattooed wrist. Clenching her jaw, Ellie now shielded her body away from you.

You squint your eyes at Sarah, “What news?” You question, “By the way, where the fuck is my phone? It’s literally nowhere to be found.”

Ellie dug her hand into her pocket pulling out your sleek phone covered in a pink protectant case – Why did Ellie have your phone? You speed walked over to the green-eyed girl, reaching to grab the device only making Ellie pull it higher from your reach.

“Ellie seriously” You whined, Your body almost falling on top of Ellie’s as she tried to hide your phone away from your hands. The two of you almost dancing, You would reach with one hand, and Ellie would dodge it by moving in the opposite direction of your hand. Ellie threw your phone onto your bed, the device landing with a loud thud as her hands caught your waist before you could run off. Squirming underneath her touch, you couldn’t stay still until she dug her nails into your waist making you scream.

“Ow! Fuck you! E–”

“Tell her Sarah” Ellie was giving Sarah a pissed look as she held you tightly at the waist. Your eyes darted from Sarah to Ellie, back to Sarah once more, “Now!”

“--Someone leaked your secret – Everyone knows that you’re a P-Princess!” Sarah yelled out, pushing her phone in front of your face. Making you halt all movement in your body. The words that flew out of her mouth made you dizzy, a queasy feeling washing over your body as the urge to double over and chuck out yesterday’s dinner lingered. Your body tensed in Ellie’s hands as your back fell against her chest – Ellie holding you upright, rubbing circles at your waist. This was foreign. Ellie showing sympathy to you, it felt weird to have her hands on your body again after the roof-top incident. But you didn’t give yourself time to process it for long, “W-What?”

This time you snatched her phone from her hands, looking at the articles in front of you. They were creepy photos, stalker-like almost. As if you had been watched for weeks. Photos of you on campus with Sarah, yearbook photos from high school, even you leaving your grandmother’s mansion. The titles were just as obnoxious.

“ROYAL LIVES ON! FIRST SPOTTING OF GLENDALE’S NEW SOON-TO-BE PRINCESS!”

“BFF’S FOREVER? INSIDE SCOOP OF THE PRINCESS’S LIFE AT JNU”

“Nononono” You rambled, scrolling through each article that only seemed to be never-ending. Your face was attached to these articles. HD pictures at that. You were exposed to the world. Assed out. Everyone knew what you couldn’t even understand yourself.

Your worst nightmare was coming true, and there was nothing you could do to stop it, especially with the Spring Festival happening today. It was the perfect recipe for disaster. Recalling Ellie’s hands at your waist, you shrugged the girl off in irritation as Ellie eyed your figure that was now pacing.

“This is bad! Like I’m screwed…Fuck Sarah, I’m so screwed” You ranted to your best friend, sadness turning to anger like a flip of a switch. “Hell, this article is wrong! I didn’t even say yes yet! It wasn’t my decision” You were on the verge of tears.

“I didn’t choose the throne!” you cried out again, this time sitting on your bed holding your head in your hands. Your cat, Mittens, ran to Sarah’s lap, resting his head on Sarah’s leg while letting out slow purrs.

“Sarah, Is she okay?” Ellie whispered, this time sincerity ran through her voice, as she looked at her sister this time, almost begging for directions on what to do. It wasn’t like Ellie to show that she cared, hell most would have thought she would have gained some satisfaction sentiment at the sight of seeing your world collapse, but it felt the opposite. Ellie felt guilty, sick to her stomach at the sight of your panic. Seeing your body rake in sobs, hands gripping at your sheets, tears like a never-ending river, “I don’t think so…I’ve never seen her act like this”

Sarah panicked, bringing her hand up to her mouth at the sight of your panic attack. She was sure if you weren’t stopped the dorm would have been absolutely demolished by the time you reached your cool down. It was true, crying was something you have never done in front of Sarah, hell not even your own mother. Your cool exterior was deteriorating, feeling your body suddenly lose control of itself, head spinning – nothing made sense anymore.

Sarah croaked, “Ellie…” making Ellie jump up from her position at the edge of Sarah’s bed rushing over to your figure. Ellie didn’t care if you were upset with her anymore, nor did the redhead care if you hated her. She didn’t want this for you. She wasn’t entirely an asshole.

Ellie did not care if you were going to fight her – potentially smack her for still being in your space, in this moment Ellie wanted to do something right, at least ease the fear that grew in your fiery heart. Ellie sat on your bed, applying her calloused fingers onto your shaky ones, giving a firm grip to your hand – detaching slightly as her hand trailed up your spine, moving your hair out from your face. Tingles exploded through your body at her sudden presence.

“Can you look at me…please?” Ellie’s voice was gentle. Different from her raspy aggressive tone that she consistently gave you. Your head was still facing towards your lap, but Ellie’s voice was enough to drive you out of the dreamy haze you were in, each inhale you took could be heard loudly through the room. A hand shot up to your heart.

“I can’t breathe…fuck– I can- I can’t” you whimpered making. Ellie squeeze her eye shut, cursing under her breath as she tapped herself back into the situation.

“Sarah, can you give us a sec?” Ellie was almost begging her sister, Her hands rubbing circles in your back, while she looked across at Sarah’s nervous state. Sarah nodded, getting off of the bed to slide her slippers on her feet. Gently putting her key lanyard around her neck – Sarah headed for the door, closing it softly behind her.

Ellie took the click of the door locks the opportunity to slide her hoodie off, leaving Ellie in a white tee. Recalling what she was learning in her anger management classes, something about controlling breaths and taking a step back to breathe – deciding now would be a good time to use the breathing exercises she learned.

Ellie dipped her body weight towards yours, her cool bare skin touching yours that was slightly warm, Your hand was entangled around your heart, practically scratching the fabric that was your lace tank top. Ellie pulled your body into a full hug, which at first you resisted, but the thumping of your heart slowed with applied pressure. “Okay breathe in and out…slowly” Ellie instructed.

You followed her exact words. Head buried into her chest as you continued the breathing exercises, following the tone of her voice. “Good job, Angel, you’re doing such a great job, one more time for me” Ellie led the breathing exercises, as she inhaled implying for you to follow suit, which you did. Closing with a prolonged exhale.

Ellie pried your body away from hers. Not caring that your body was sticky from the pool of thick sweat that ran down your forehead. Ellie stopped to eye your face, which was in a calmer state than before but she could still see the jittering from your body.

“We are gonna try something, I know you’re not a fan of me…but I really need you to trust me, I’ll never let you down, nothing’s gonna hurt you while I’m here” Ellie muttered, she was pleading you. Her voice was wobbly as she did so. God, Ellie would never say it out loud, but she was concerned, and worried for you. The freckled face girl just wanted you to be at ease. “I want you to list 5 things you can see in this room”

You pointed at your cat on the floor “Uh…Mittens”

That’s one.

You winced before continuing to try to find objects to focus on.

“My Hairbrush”

That’s two.

“Your bracelet”

That’s three.

“The mole on your cheek…underneath your eye”

That’s four.

“Come on baby, you’re doing so good for me…one more” Ellie praised, running her hand along your cheek.

“Your, eyes they–they’re a nice washy paled green”

Finally, five.

“Good job! Should we keep going?” Ellie was gentle – careful as if you were a piece of glass, but as much as you wanted to bicker with Ellie in front of you, you couldn’t find it in yourself to do so. But how close her body was to you and her ability to set your mind at ease was impressive.

You shook your head no, feeling a lot calmer than you have prior. Feeling the faint mixture of cotton and satin from the comforter on your bed, the hand that was around your chest loosened up, and the air was becoming clearer. You were getting grounded, the blurry haze that was your vision vanishing.

“Can I say one more thing” Ellie spoke up amidst the silence, “...I still don’t like you” you grumbled in between breaths, pulling your hair out of your face and behind your ears. Your tender laugh rang Ellie’s ears, making her do the same – Ellie rolled her eyes at your statement. Despite traveling through a panic attack you were the same old girl whose dislike didn’t seem to budge.

“Yeah, yeah…no you don’t”

“‘cause you hat—”

“Not anymore…maybe a dislike?…I don’t know I just, I-I think I owe that much to you” Ellie snapped. The tone of the room shifted back to seriousness. Ellie was getting vulnerable, throwing in the white towel, this was the moment she was certainly sure she didn’t wanna drag her dislike towards you anymore. The more she thought about it, she really didn’t hate you at all. Ellie was unraveling the tuff knot she made of dislike that she had balled up for you, pealing each layer back like a tangerine. It was all a facade, as her therapist called it. Just a way for her to mask her emotions and put a wall up for anyone who came a little too close to stimulating emotions other than sadness or anger. It was her fear holding her back. Your name was certainly dropped in her anger management classes hearing the same words that would leave Sarah’s mouth.

You don’t truly hate her, you love her but you’re too emotionally immature to deal with it.

You paused on the bed. Looking at Ellie in full this time, noticing that the girl next to you had discarded the hoodie she was wearing prior, and the conflicted scowl that rested on her face. That similar bitter look that you loved to give, yourself. Ellie was deep in thought, finding comfort in the silence that the two of you were sharing.

You smacked your lips,

“You know I have a ridiculous Royal Ball to go to – and no date?...my grandma was like bring somebody for comfort, and I…I realized I didn’t really have anyone, I mean of course I have Sarah and Dina but I’d go to my first ball with other royal people of the world and I’ll be entirely alone…God, I don’t know why I’m telling you this” you confess, almost laughing at the way the words were spilling out of your mouth.

Ellie was attentive, listening to every word you said.

“You know you have me right…I know I didn’t do a good job of making it known before…sorry- this is really hard for me…” Ellie started, puffing out her cheeks to exhale large sums of air – letting the bubble formed by her cheeks deflate. Ellie rubbed her hands on her thighs, up – and down before giving her legs a final squeeze,

“You look like you really need a friend right now, and I…I want to help you, of course your still fuckin’ annoying but let me help you…I don’t expect you to say yes, but…” Ellie cut herself short pausing to control her own breathing while you took this opportunity to speak.

“Ellie, I never thought in my entire 4 years of college that I would be asking you this, but what are the odds that you could be my fake date to the Ball?... It’s all pretend, you just have to act like you like me and we can go our separate ways” You reason, crossing your fingers as you dug them into the sheet to be hidden from Ellie’s field of vision. Ellie however caught the crossing of your fingers, darting her dilating pupils to her tattoo, rubbing a hand at the inked sinking into her skin.

“Can I wear a suit?” Ellie pondered, which brought a smile to your face. Ellie made you smile. “Wait…are you smiling at me?”

“No…I’m smiling at Mittens” you coughed, “behind you…”

“I’m just fucking with you…yeah I am”

“Well…stop fucking doing that you’re creeping me out!” Ellie whined, shrugging her body away from yours. Ellie didn’t wanna admit it but your smile was comforting. It made her want to give one back. Feeling her cheekbones stretch at the possibility of her chapped lips curling into a smile. It was foreign but for once Ellie didn’t feel entirely terrible for wanting to do it.

“Yes, Ellie you can wear a suit, even if you showed up in sweats I wouldn’t care…uh thank you for this!” you beamed with a twinkle in your eye.

“Don’t mention it” Ellie sealed. Giving you a light nudge on the shoulder. There was more silence to fill the air. But the air wasn’t thick anymore, and it didn’t feel like you had to walk on eggshells around anyone – the cloudy sky that was a room when you and Ellie coexisted faded away into a bright sun with a rainbow. You were pulled out of your thoughts at the sound of knocking on the door. This made your heart thump in fear watching the way the slender beige wood bounced with each pound.

“Guys! Uh… hate to ruin the moment but Spring Fest starts in 30 minutes and the band needs to warm up!” Sarah shouted from the other side of the door, making Ellie curse under her breath. Getting up from your bed as she ran to Sarah’s dresser to get her car keys.

“See you Sun–”

“Saturday, Ellie…”

“Right, right see you Saturday, your highness” Ellie was panting, out of breath as she did a shitty bow before bolting to the door and meeting Sarah that was on the other side. As the door clicked closed you could hear the faint sound of Sarah and Ellie bickering – their voices fading away as they got further and further away from the door. Letting out a heavy sigh of relief. Ellie’s signature scent lingered as the room suddenly felt cold at the absence of bodies.

Your body fell back bouncing against the mattress as Mittens crawled on top of a dark piece of fabric making you squint at the sudden dark material contrasting your pink sheets. It was Ellie’s sweater – shooing Mittens off of the sweater, you held the material in your hands, stroking the embroidery on the front. Pulling up the sweater to your nose where the scent of her cologne lingered, assisted with the faint tinge of dated tobacco.

Holding the fabric close to your chest, giving it a squeeze in your hands, as if you were giving it a hug. The smell helps to ease the come down from your panic attack, feelings of fear, and anxiety decaying. Ellie was helping you, in a lot of ways – and she didn’t even realize it.

You hated how her scent was enough to ground you and connect you back to reality from your overwhelming thoughts. It felt like a big game of chess, Ellie knocking over your king piece and swapping it out for one of hers.

She was starting to conquer your thoughts, but no longer in a negative connotation, your thoughts of her were evolving into adulation.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

Saturday.

The mansion was busy this evening, servants and security moving fast while the decoration team had run through the two-story home being careful not to knock over the statues or fine-dining utensils. Meanwhile, you were sitting in your newly acclaimed bedroom, amidst the chaos. The room was previously your father's, remodeled for your benefit and appointing to the throne.

Your delicate hands slid the thick short dress onto your body. It was pink and white, synching at the waist – corset style, with the ruffles and layers of white fabric peeking beneath. There was a slight sparkle to the material on your body – feeling it cling tightly as specks of glitter got onto your gleaming moisturized skin. The assistant that was hired to assist in getting you ready for the ball pulled at the strings of your corset, applying pressure to tighten them.

With each pull back, your thoughts trailed off to Ellie – her suit, and what she would possibly wear tonight. You were undoubtedly nervous, having Royal officials meet you for the second time, which you hoped would go better than the first – but this time with the news out of everything about you. There was no more hiding who you truly were anymore. They would likely gossip about your GPA over a glass of prosecco.

“Princess…Is everything alright?” the assistant questioned as she snapped her fingers in front of your face making you jolt at the release of pressure.

“yeah…I’m alright – sorry…just thinking” you reply sheepishly, turning around to give her a gentle smile.

“Don’t apologize for thinking, it’s your first big day out of two! Plus you have prepared for this moment, and you have made great progress…Your grandmother is proud of you even though she doesn’t tell you, and I’m sure your father would be too”

You smiled at the mention of your Grandmother and her proudness, feeling complete at the abrupt praise. Recalling your father who you felt like you hardly knew but wish you did, building anything you know about him from pictures and stories.

“But I do…have something for you, which I feel is the right time for you to receive.” Your head whipped around almost giving you whiplash as the woman bent down to her folder picking out a white envelope that was sealed with pink wax.

“This is from your father, it was set to be given to you on your coronation day, but I think you deserve it now…I’ll give you some privacy” holding the flimsy white envelope in your hand, eyeing the molded wax, as your fingers traced across the handwriting that belonged to your father. Hearing the door close, you quickly walked to your vanity, sitting down with your back straight up as you gently slide your finger between the thin paper, prying it open to pull out a letter.

My little dove,

By the time you are reading this, I may be long gone, or you haven’t met me. Whether your mother chooses to tell you or not, I would like you to know that I love you and am so proud of the progress you have made that you feel goes unnoticed. If the cat is out of the bag, this would then mean that I am talking to y/n l/n metropolis vagn, Princess of Glendale, granddaughter of Elenor Metropolis Vagn, Queen of Glendale. It is a lot to take in, and I have left you with a big responsibility. Your decision will always be yours even if you feel that it is not.

Weeks prior, leading up to my death I had an intense conversation with your grandmother about the future of the throne. Where it sounds like a curse, I pleaded and I wished that I wanted you to take my rightful place at the throne with my absence. To take my crown, to take my seat at the dinner table, I was giving you everything. I wanted you to have every last thing I owned that I couldn’t be there to give you myself. Royalty is a big thing, and at my age, when I was 17 when I met your mother, I knew that I would have not been in the best of care to run it for long. God when your mother said she was pregnant with you, I knew that she would make a sweet, headstrong but hot-headed child like the both of us. I put trust in you, just seeing the twinkle of your little doe eyes the first day out of the womb, I knew I was looking at the future Princess of Glendale.

I think that it would be wise of me to tell you the story of my first coronation day as Prince. I was late to every meeting, I totally failed at prince practice and balancing a book on my head to learn perfect posture, waved with the wrong hand – I couldn’t even tell my big spoon from my little spoon, or which fork I used first to eat. It was improper and your grandmother was honestly sick of it. I was late…extremely late to my coronation. I took your mother on a date to the gardens that day, We shared our first kiss and it was magical, more magical than the palace walls that I lived in now, it was a deep connection I will never forget.

I took your mother to the ball, She wore pink to contrast my dark suit, but that didn’t matter. I think we complimented each other well, A pink rose corsage right above my handkerchief pocket oddly complimented too. I wore trainers to my first coronation – it was quite strange. My mother was actually sick of me. I naturally made conversation with the elders, and rulers of other places. But as soon as the crown was placed on my head, I left going with your mother to a drive-in movie while we ate messy cheeseburgers in our formal attire. It was such a sore soft moment, but at that moment I felt like I could have the best of both worlds, which I did – and I want you to know that you could have it too, I made sure of it.

Now that this is in your possession, I want this to serve as a reminder that you are equally important. More important than some rubbish title that I rather you choose yourself 100 times over nobility. You choose where you would be the most comfortable. You are to be sweet and divine – but don’t let anyone dim your light or take your future and enjoyment away from you.

I hope this serves as a reminder of my love for you, and an appreciation for your progress, can you believe you have made it this far?

With love and acknowledgment,

Your father, Prince of Glendale, removed from the throne to stretch to his offspring.

P.S it’s okay to fall in love, live a little darling!

Tears prickled your eyes, salted water falling down your face as you took a tissue off of the vanity being careful to dab the water to not ruin your makeup. A laugh escaped your lips, you weren’t crying of sadness you were happy. Genuinely happy. In other ways, it felt as if your father had been giving you a hug and guiding you right along the way during your moments of doubt. You needed that. His encouragement gave you the extra boost to get you through the next two days, while you were not only battling public recognition but fully devoting yourself to the throne.

Looking at yourself through the mirror, rolling your head, noting that it was time to fix your hair, which was currently in a half-up half-down look – placing the crystalized small tiara on your head. Sticking the note that Grandma left on the crown saying ‘just a warmup crown ;)’ on the cleaned glass. Your ringtone runs the air, answering swiftly to hear a raspy voice filling the air.

“Princess…I am outside the gate and there is some guy yelling at me that I have the wrong house” You groaned knowing she was definitely talking about Philip who was the same person who gave you a hard time the first time you visited the mansion. “First of all, don’t call me that…second I’ll be there hold tight”

“Hey! I’m—” you cut Ellie off by hanging up the phone with a swift click to the red button. You were nervous to see Ellie, the thought of what she could possibly be wearing stormed your thoughts, imagining a nicely fitting suit on her body, her hair free of any elastic.

You slid on your pink kitten heals – it was time to put on your acting face.

Right hand on the door knob, pausing to have a moment with yourself. You imagined that you were on a boat, the boat on sea rocking in the cold cerulean sea splashing its salty wakes against the curvature of the boat. Before a large tide comes in, waves crash — drowning out your boat. Slamming the door open, you pushed yourself forward dragging your body down the steps and being careful to not fall in your heels.

Right foot…step…left foot…step until you reached the door.

Waving with your right hand, proper, as your way of saying hello to the decoration team. 1 hour until guest arrival and you were feeling rancid. The morning tea in your veins pumps free adrenaline into you – giving you a slight pep in your step.

Running in your heels, which was also, unprincess-like, you reached the gate yelling at Philip through the intercom to let Ellie in. Hearing the locks loosening up as the drawback on the door revealed Ellie, in all her glory. She actually showed up…for you. Ellie was wearing a black suit, her white button down peaking under that was slightly open at her chest. Chuck Taylor classics on her feet which made you laugh. Thinking back to your dad's letter about him wearing trainers to his coronation day. You found it funny – ironic almost but expected that Ellie wouldn’t own dress shoes. Your brain headed back to the words your dad has gracefully written.

She wore pink to contrast my dark suit, but that didn’t matter. I think we complimented eachother well

This time, it was your pink dress to contrast her dark suit, and to you, this didn’t matter either. You too thought you complimented each other. Ellie walked with confidence towards you, as she bowed – one hand folded at her stomach the other behind her back as she bend her body down at you, “Your Highness”

Ellie was waiting for your approval. “God, Ellie…you’re such a kiss ass!” you snickered in amusement finding her figure bowed down before you. “You may stand now.”

“You do that again, I’ll make sure Philip drags you out of here” You finish making Ellie roll her eyes. Her gaze softened at the sight of you, eyes trailing from the tiara on your head down to your dress.

“You’ve looked worse” Ellie shrugged not wanting to fully give you the satisfaction of getting a compliment out of her. Ellie thought you looked stunning, a faint shade of red dusting over her cheeks, as she took in your outfit.

“Geez didn’t know you showered!” You hissed at the girl with a scoff, almost ruining the moment making Ellie throw a hand up in disbelief at your words. “There she is” Ellie sang as if she were expecting this to come out of your mouth any minute.

You looked at the girl fully this time, her Converse were dirty — of course not that you cared, and her hair was loose from any free restraints. Now noticing the absence of the corsage pinned near her handkerchief pocket, you stumbled across the cigarette that was tucked neatly behind her ear. Mouth tip facing forward.

“No, absolutely not” Ellie was confused by your sudden protesting, trying to swat your hand away as you reached for the cigarette, chucking it into the water fountain next to the two of you.

“Hey! That—”

“There will be no smoking on the mansion grounds! You hear me! Ellie, I’m so serious and I’m asking you just this once for a solid 5 hours not to” you pleaded. Normally you wouldn’t care but for an event like this with catty old rich people, you wanted to bypass the extra gossip. Ellie let in a dramatic inhale, looking around at the greenery of the yard the two of you were in.

“Yeah...yeah sure I could do that” Ellie cleared her throat, and her hand was tucked in her pocket — the other at the nape of her neck flicking her hair, she rocked back and forth on her toes.

“Thank you…” your voice was now at a whisper, Ellie’s eyes were beautiful next to the greenery of the garden, and you were almost enamored by how put together she looked. You didn’t expect her to pull through as well as she did, but you were glad she would at least be there to save you from driving yourself crazy in the mansion.

You rubbed your glossed lips together, trying to find the right words to say at the moment. “If we are gonna do this, we have to do it the right way or else we totally jeopardize everything — poof! Princess had to hire a fake date, we don’t want that”

Ellie nodded in agreement. You stepped in closer, reaching into Ellie’s handkerchief pocket as you started to explain the rules, reaching for your own dress to detach the corsage that you pinned there on your way out. Taking the delicate rose and threading it slightly above the pocket on her suit.

The two of your bodies were so close that Ellie could smell your floral and vanilla scent which contrasted with her salted musky wood, making her hitch her throat. The view of your eyes made her slightly antsy at the feeling of your body closer to hers. Instinctively Ellie didn’t know what to do with her hands, panicking as she rested them against the boning of the corset on your waist.

“You can kiss me, though I don’t advise it, hold my hand, walk straight, say excuse me before you end the conversation, no cursing…Stay close to me — it’s very easy to get lost and we don’t want that, no snarky comments, no smoking but you know that, smile” You were speaking fast, Ellie barely catching any of it as she was too busy investing her vision at your hands that were working magic around her suit, slightly doing two buttons for safety.

“Anything else, Princess”

“Did you even catch any of that?” You question, the faint click of the corsage filling the space between the two of you. Ellie gave you a dopey smile, “Honestly, your tiara was crooked the whole time”

It was Ellie’s turn to fix you up, slightly centering the tiara on your head with great delicacy, trailing her hands down your face and to your shoulders with an eyebrow raise. You groaned, ignoring the girl, dragging her hand to follow closely behind you. Ellie found part of it to be like a fairy tale dream. The shit that only happens in movies. From the overly large mansion to the obnoxious shrubbery and freshly kept grass it was hard to believe that your grandmother even lived nearby.

“Don’t speak unless spoken to, and stop slouching you look like a hunchback” You whispered, this time grabbing Ellie’s hand in yours as the two of you walked side by side. Ellie felt a tingle shoot up at her arm at your sudden hand grab, shaking her head slightly to respond to your comment. “Never thought the day would come where you are not only checking my posture…but holding my hand as well, am I going mad?”

You stopped walking to give her an exasperated look, “really? It’s business” The two of you kept walking, making your way to the dining area — almost reaching the corridor when your grandma stops in front of the two of you. She was giving you a stern look before looking over to Ellie. Flicking her eyes back and forth between the two of you. A faint smile as she looked between the two of you.

“You’re just like your father dear” The elder spoke up, putting her ringed finger up to her mouth in awe. “I know”

Elenor cleared her throat. “So who is your friend” Her field of vision shot to Ellie’s hand that was tightly gripped into yours. The two of your shoulders touching — almost scared shitless.

“Uh, Grandma, this is my girlfriend, Ellie Williams, Ellie this is my Grandma, Elenor the Queen of Glendale” You spoke up gesturing the two to each other, Nudging Ellie with your arm queuing for her to speak.

“H-h..It’s a pleasure to meet you” Ellie coughed, “Ma’am” Ellie replicated the bow that she had shown you early, this time getting up quicker. Your hand suddenly felt clammy. Realizing that the moisture was not from your hand but from Ellie’s, who had been drowning in anxiousness next to you. So you squeezed it, giving the girl a soft look of reassurance.

“Oh please, you don’t have to bow Ellie! It’s so wonderful to meet you — aren’t you adorable” Your grandma reached over to squeeze Ellie’s cheeks making them a lot redder than they were before.

You winced at the interaction “Grandma…please” you used your free hand to swat hers away, continuing to look around the room to find an escape out. “We actually are going to go to the garden for a bit, have Philip come to fetch us when the guest arrives”

Giving the woman a faint smile, you drag Ellie away, the redhead trailing behind you like a lost puppy. “Nice meeting you!” Ellie shouted making you shake your head at her outburst.

“And another rule…no yelling” You snapped, walking up to one of the servant trays to steal two glasses of champagne, handing Ellie a glass. The two of you exited through the backyard of the mansion, walking alongside the cobblestone into the garden. It was filled with different kinds of flowers: roses, chrysanthemums, orchids, and hydrangeas. It was a vibrant sight. Enough to make your eyes hurt as the sun was setting.

Sitting next to the fountain, Ellie doing the same but across from you, you closed your eyes amidst the silence, letting the faint sound of the birds chirping guide you – picking up conversation again.

“Welcome to my world” you sang sarcastically, Ellie didn’t bother to heckle you – rather she took this time to see how many differences the two of you had. Ellie was a troublemaker since she was very young…known for picking fights and consistently butting heads with people. The day Joel brought home an anger management class pamphlet Ellie wanted to scream. It’s not that she didn’t think she had issues but she just couldn’t manage her anger properly – mad at the world consistently and it won’t leave her mind like an exposed wound. So Ellie tried one and tried another – realizing she actually needed to communicate what she was feeling if she wanted to be better.

Then Ellie thought of you, certainly too good for her, a pretty girl academically smart and soothing in her eyes. That night at the rooftop didn’t make sense to Ellie, it didn’t make sense to her that a girl like you, could like a girl like her.

“Got a cigarette?”

Ellie snickered “Oh now you want one, I got none for you, I don’t give cigarettes to princesses” Ellie dug into her chest pocket digging inside the fabric to bring out the familiar black lighter and her handy pack of Marlboro reds. Taking out a piece, but your request prior to the ball event made her stop to look at you for approval. “You can have one…go on, smoke it! This is more stressful than I thought”

Ellie shrugged at your response, setting a flame to the burning tobacco, exhaling with ease. You went steady with the champagne, taking a few sips – then larger gulps almost matching the way Ellie was swallowing the cigarette whole.

“Why do you do it?” you questioned. Rotating the liquids in the glass. “Do what?”

“Smoke” your voice was barely a whisper. Ellie blew out the smoke away from your face – as always before tapping some of the ash away, bringing a hand up to scratch her cheek to really think about what she wanted to tell you. Ellie was going to throw in the white towel again.

“Helps me, uh fixate on something other than the emotion I feel, became like a stabilizer – oral fixation typa shit”

Ellie was honest with you, which you could tell from the tone of her voice, it was serious and she was being transparent. “Oh…”

You were preparing to bring the champagne glass up to your lips again when Ellie stopped you, snatching the glass from your hand, tossing the leftover liquid onto the floor, “No more for you…Don’t want our Princess drunk now do we”

You rolled your eyes, “It was keeping my body warm” Ellie gave you a side-eye as she began to unbutton her suit jacket, cursing under her breath as she slid the black jacket off of her arms, raising an eyebrow before throwing it at your face “Ow!”

“You’re welcome” This time you didn’t respond, putting the jacket on while putting your arms through the sleeves. Cold arms feel warmer by the feeling of the fabric around you like a blanket. Similar to yesterday morning when Ellie had left her sweater at your dorm.

“Can we…um” You rubbed your hands together, before locking them together “Can we talk about the night at the rooftop?” Ellie felt her heart sink, putting the cigarette up to her mouth one last time – tapping out the stick to stand up and move closer to where you sat on the brick exterior of the fountain.

“I think I owe that to you..”

You hummed, allowing Ellie to move in close to you, her knee was knocking against your own, as you looked at the girl with such love and admiration despite knowing the hefty conversation that was on the way. Ellie put a hand out to reach for your own, resting her hand in your lap. Webbed through your fingers.

“If I’m being honest…After it happened and my resentment started, I thought about you every night since, I…I think I truly was incapable of being honest with myself and kinda ripping the bandaid off to know that I could be liked. I enjoyed the kiss, do I regret it? Hell fucking no” Ellie began, taking the moment to laugh, “My arguing was a by-product of my flight or fight response absolutely going bonkers at the possibility that Abby could have you or you would reject m–”

“Why would I reject you?”

Ellie blinked rapidly “Sorry…What?”

“I like you! Are you joking, ever since you shook my hand I knew that you were different. But then once the kiss was over, you basically didn’t want anything to do with me, I thought, I made you up in my head” You stroked Ellie’s hand in your lap for comfort, this time Ellie letting go to squeeze your thigh. “The way I imagined you to act was just a result of what I made you to be in my head” You ramble making Ellie nod her head almost ashamed at the way she treated you months prior after the situation dissolved.

“God I was such an asshole” Ellie winced looking away from you, applying faint pressure to your thigh

“If you were one then so was I…”

“Did you mean to say ‘I like you’ in the present tense?” Ellie blurted out, eyeing your facial expressions to see if she caught what you were saying right – or if it was a mistake on your part.

“I did say that didn’t I…” You mumbled, bringing a hand up to your mouth as if you were scrambling to organize your thoughts to prevent yourself from saying anything embarrassing or exposing yourself even further. Ellie’s gaze softened,

“It’s okay if you did” Ellie whispered, lifting a hand to rub at your cheek. The two of you look at each other longingly. You didn’t say anything further – feeling your body lean into Ellie’s until her lips were directly onto yours, closing all gaps between the two of you. Her peppermint moisturized lips locked with your own, feeling Ellie’s hands shoot up to your face for extra support. The kiss was long, the two of you not being to detach from each other, the kiss was a hungry one. Ellie’s tongue grazed yours as the kiss got deeper…and deeper. A splash of the water from the fountain made the two of you abruptly pull away, shaky breathes as the two of you stared at each other for a prolonged period of time, there was no more hatred left in Ellie’s eyes and you knew she didn’t feel the instant regret like she felt the night of the roof-top.

“You gonna tell me to not tell anyone” you whisper to Ellie, giving a slight nudge at what happened the last time the two of you shared a kiss

“I’ve learned my lesson…I’m not hiding you” Ellie spoke softly, bringing a hand up to stroke your cheek. The soft moment between the two of you is ruined by the clear of the throat, to reveal Philip in all black standing in front of the two of you. The two of you jumped away from each other as you looked at the ground embarrassed.

“Now that the two of you have stopped macking, the Queen has requested your return there are some people she would like you to meet” Philip states bluntly, turning on his heel to walk away from the two of you. Ellie and yourself give each other a glance before letting out a fit of laughs at the awkwardness of the situation. Ellie stands up, putting a hand out for you to grab allowing her hand to help you stand up.

With Your hand around Ellie’s everything suddenly felt like it was moving into place, no more need to stress or panic – it felt natural. As the two of you walked through the garden you thought about your dad's letter in admiration, you wanted the best of both worlds and you sure as hell got it.

“Hey, Ellie?” you whispered as Ellie only hummed in response.

“Wanna leave early after this and grab some food?”

535 notes · View notes

plsdontseemeeeee · 1 month ago

Text

Safe are the Ghosts

Pt 1/ ???? Summary: In post-apocalyptic Jackson, you work as a medic and navigate tense relationships—especially with Ellie and your father, Joel. Despite the past, grief, and unspoken wounds, you figure out how to continue in a world that seems to love nothing more than ruining your life. - based of the HBO television series, currently in Episode two Authors note: um... so I had a tumblr since 2023 and I somehow deleted it...so reposting my latest series. Parirings: Joel & daughter! reader, Ellie x Reader (it will happen just give it TIME) Abby x reader (I'm a simp)

Jackson was known as a haven, or perhaps more accurately, as a living testament to the virtues of freedom and community—a sanctuary steadily blossoming into one of the largest and most hospitable enclaves around. In this unique place, life moved with an air of unencumbered possibility; unlike the strict rigidity of QZs, here people were free to wander in and out as they saw fit. There was an unspoken agreement that every person who arrived, regardless of their background or training, would contribute in some way, enriching the fabric of the community.

Over time, the spirit of Jackson grew contagious. The town’s ethos was built not on enforced conformity but on an organic, ever-evolving tapestry of contributions. Mechanics diligently kept the essential machinery humming, ensuring that the gears of progress never ground to a halt, while construction workers transformed raw materials into dwellings and communal spaces that stood as monuments to collective effort. Medical personnel offered healing and hope not merely through their expertise, but through a gentle, empathetic touch that reassured the weary and infirm alike. Even educators, nannies, and chefs played their parts, each role a crucial thread in the narrative of resilience and self-governance.

The diversity of skills and the willingness to share them imbued Jackson with a vibrancy that transcended conventional societal boundaries. Patrols, manned by those trained to maintain order without suffocating freedom, roamed the streets with a sense of duty tempered by compassion. Beyond these watchful guardians, gardeners coaxed life from the earth in communal plots, turning barren scraps of land into flourishing oases, while artists and builders reimagined the urban landscape into a living canvas of creativity. In Jackson, every contribution—be it technical expertise or a humble act of nurturing—was celebrated as a step toward a more cohesive, supportive society.

Community life here was expressed through everyday rituals that reinforced a deep sense of belonging. Evening gatherings around crackling fires, spontaneous street festivals, and shared meals brought neighbors together, transforming simple acts of daily living into opportunities for collective celebration. In Jackson, the freedom to come and go was matched by an enduring invitation to give back, creating a cycle where each newcomer soon discovered that their efforts were valued, their skills indispensable, and their individuality a vital ingredient in the communal stew.

Even then, if someone crossed into the city walls—those same walls painstakingly erected by the founders, the original survivors whose very hands were stained with the gore and sweat of the outbreak—they were met not with exclusion, but with a measured welcome. Even if such a person appeared to lack the talents or qualities that could immediately contribute to the thriving community, the citizens would not cast them aside. The true measure of a town was not merely in the sum of its skills, but in the spirit of inclusivity that defined its very nature. If the inhabitants were to dismiss those who did not prove their worth at once, what remained would be less a town and more a grim penitentiary—a place where the weak were all too easily deemed disposable, left to be metaphorically fed to the wolves.

In the heart of this sanctuary, every soul was seen as having inherent potential. The founders had built these walls not as barriers to keep humanity at bay, but as a shield against the relentless chaos outside—a testament to their belief in redemption and transformation. Here, every newcomer, regardless of their immediate utility, was afforded the opportunity to grow, learn, and eventually contribute to the collective strength of the community. This unwavering commitment to nurturing latent potential was what set the town apart. It was a place where value was not measured solely by apparent skills but by the capacity to evolve and to enrich the community in myriad ways.

“I’m sorry,” you force out a laugh as you spin around on your creaking chair, your eyes narrowing playfully at the man slumped across the makeshift treatment station. “You broke your wrist…”

“Pottery,” he deadpans, his lips curling into a rueful grin that hinted at a lifetime of misadventures and unforeseen consequences.

“Pottery,” you echo with a gentle nod, as if acknowledging both the absurdity and the stubborn pride behind his words. Rising from your seat, you retrieve a well-worn, sanded-down piece of wood and a faded, yet dependable, bandage from your improvised kit. The room—once a humble bedroom now converted into a rudimentary clinic—smells faintly of antiseptic mixed with the lingering aroma of burnt wood and memories of better times. You push the rolling chair aside with deliberate care and reach for his very…very broken wrist. Despite the inflammation and bruise marring its surface, nothing in the injury screamed for an invasive procedure; a sturdy splint would suffice.

“Whatcha make?” you ask, half in curiosity and half in an effort to distract him from the pain etched across his weathered face.

The man hums thoughtfully, his gaze drifting to a small, uneven crack in the wooden wall as if seeking counsel from its silent testimony. “Whatever is wanted. I mostly do it for free, though that’s not getting me very far these days,” he confesses, the lilt in his voice mingling gratitude with resignation. His words carry the quiet weight of countless sacrifices in a world that rarely rewards kindness.

“Kind man,” you chirp, securing the bandage with practiced precision, winding it around itself until it snugly supports his splinted wrist. Your tone is both affectionate and admonishing—a reminder that even in suffering, there is dignity in compassion. “Kindness will always end up coming back around for us, you know? Now, I want you to come back in two weeks so I can see how it looks. If it gets worse or starts aching more than a little, if you feel even a hint of sickness—come back sooner. And if I’m not here, just head over to the Miller house on Main, okay?”

With a small nod, he agrees and walks out of the clinic room, leaving you alone with the sterile hum of machinery and the soft shuffle of wounded survivors. You finish scribbling down your notes with deliberate precision, carefully tucking them into the aging hallway filing cabinet—a repository of stories, failures, and small triumphs. Stepping down the creaking stairs, your boots sink slightly into the muddy residue of neglect, each step stirring memories of the days when this place pulsed with hope rather than a quiet resignation.

At the base of the stairs, you reach for a sheet of paper suspended on the hanging system—a crude schedule for check-ups that, despite its makeshift appearance, speaks volumes about the effort to hold on to some semblance of order. Your eyes scan down the list, and as you reach the next name, your smile falters, your breath catching on the syllables written on the paper. The name shimmers in faded ink, and with a sudden jolt, you exclaim, “Ellie!”

You quickly read over the note that trails below her name and age, your heart thudding as old worries and new concerns battle in your chest. Your gaze snaps toward the waiting area—a cramped room where survivors sat huddled on an overstuffed sofa and scattered benches. There, amid the low murmur of anxious conversation, Ellie had popped up like an unexpected ember of defiance. A stupid grin plastered across her face, her features marred with smears of dried blood that she wore almost as a badge of honor.

The room held a stark collage of vulnerability and resilience. Faces etched with weariness offered fleeting smiles at the sight of someone who defied the odds, and the quiet banter of patients waiting for both you and the nurse filled the space with tentative life. Ellie’s grin, despite its crudity, was infectious—a silent rebellion against despair.

You set the paper down with a soft sigh, the weight of responsibility anchoring your thoughts. Stepping forward, you navigate through the crowd, your eyes locking with hers. In that brief, charged moment, time seemed to pause: you saw not just a patient, but a fighter whose spark illuminated the dullness of the day. “Ellie,” you call gently, your voice a blend of concern and warmth, “let’s get you taken care of.”

The corridor, the faded notes, and the murmurs of those waiting all faded into the background as you led her toward the clinic. She happily settles onto the bed, a spark of mischief in her eyes despite the scars life had etched on her. You watch as she relaxes, her posture betraying the rough resilience of someone who’s seen too much yet still manages to smile. You retrieve the bottle of alcohol and a threadbare towel from the counter—a silent arsenal against both infection and despair—then sink into the chair before drifting over to sit directly across from her.

“Should I ask?” You teases, tone light despite the battered evidence of a recent tussle lingering on your face.

“Eh, it was a scrimmage,” She reples, y voice carrying an amused skepticism as you unscrew the cap and dampen the cloth for a cleaning.

Your eyes narrow with a half-grimace as you bring the wipe close, studying the smear of dried blood and the careless smudges that told their own story. With a scowl, you add, “And it looks like you got fucking owned. Poor Dina—her girlfriend is a dumbass.”

A flash of indignation crosses her features, a blend of anger and hurt pooling in her eyes. “Did not?! And! And Dina is not— I’m not—” she begins, words tumbling out in a rush before she stops, caught in the weight of her own frustrated laughter and the absurdity of the situation.

You pause, your gaze holding hers steadily as if waiting for her to find solid ground in the storm of teasing and reprimand.

The silence thickens the space between your jabs and gentle care. Finally, leaning back slightly and softening just a hint, she retorts, “Shut up, I came here to check in, haven’t seen you in like a month.”

To that, you fall quiet, the kind of silence that stretches—grows heavier the longer it lingers. You shrug after a moment, not out of dismissal, but because the weight of what you want to say sits awkwardly between your ribs. You double-check your work with mechanical precision—swelling, signs of infection—anything to delay the next part. Then you scoot back to the supply table, the legs of your chair scraping softly against the scuffed wooden floor. You reach for your clipboard, jotting down post-meeting notes and marking off the medical supplies used, all while your mind pieces together the words you’ve kept tucked under your tongue for weeks.

Finally, as the pen slows in your hand, you say it—soft but honest. “Well, Ells… you’re the one who stopped coming by.”

Ellie falters, visibly, her fingers twitching against her thigh as she huffs and leans back against the wall, her expression tight. “Fuck. Yeah. I guess so. But c’mon—you can’t blame me for that.”

Your eyes flick up to meet hers, and for a long second, neither of you looks away. “No,” you admit quietly, “I don’t. We’re growing up. I…I get that. And maybe part of that means splitting off. Becoming our own people.” You pause, bracing yourself with a shaky breath before continuing. “But even I know I’m not gonna magically stop being ‘Joel’s girl.’ That’s not something that washes off, y’know?”

Ellie shifts in place, her brow creasing, but she doesn’t interrupt.

“And like it or not,” you say, voice catching a little, “you fall into that same category. Whether you like it or not, you’re his, too. Maybe not by blood, but it doesn’t matter. He called you ‘kiddo.’ He loved you.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep your voice steady. “I don’t know what happened between you two. I don’t know what he did or what you did or why it broke everything so bad. All I know is one day you just… stopped talking. Family dinners stopped. Movie nights became ‘read alone in your own damn corner’ nights. And I didn’t say anything because I figured maybe you’d come around.”

You swallow. “I get it if you hate him, I do. But he’s my dad, Ells. And I can’t choose between you and him. I won’t. It’s not fair. And… and I’m sitting here spilling my heart out like this is some kind of therapy session, so—”

“Eh,” Ellie cuts in, trying to soften the blow with a shrug and a small, forced grin. “Good place to do it. Soundproof walls, right?”

You snort a laugh through a sigh, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. “Yeah. Best perk of this makeshift clinic, honestly. No one hears me yell at my patients.”

“Or cry,” Ellie offers quietly, and it’s said in a teasing tone, but there’s something raw underneath it. Something vulnerable. “ I just… when it all happened, I didn’t know how to be around you without seeing him. So I avoided it.”

You nod, fiddling with the edge of the clipboard like it holds all the answers you wish you had. “Yeah. I figured it was something like that.”

There’s a pause, a thick kind of silence that settles after something honest has been said. Neither of you really knows what to do with it. It lingers long enough for you to notice the distant hum of conversation downstairs, boots scuffing wood, someone laughing too loud in the hallway. Then, you clear your throat, unsure if you're ready to break the fragile moment but doing it anyway.

“I’m going on a patrol,” you say, quietly at first. “There’s a chance… I mean, there’s word that there might be a pharmacy further out—past the ridge. I’m heading out with a couple others. I haven’t… told my dad yet.”

Ellie immediately sits up straighter, eyes narrowing. “Joel? Letting little baby Starshine out of Jackson?” She grins, devilish and teasing. “Dude, he’ll have a stroke right there on the porch.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you groan, smacking her leg lightly with the clipboard. “Don’t say shit like that, seriously, you’re gonna jinx me. But for real—I’m trying to be smart about it. If there’s even a chance we can find stuff—antibiotics, insulin, trauma meds—anything, it’s worth the risk.”

Ellie’s smile fades into something softer, more thoughtful. “Yeah. It is.”

You glance over at her, hopeful. “Do you guys know what medications we’re low on? I figure if I’m going, I should at least grab the right stuff—wait, you are still on the patrol rotation, right?”

Ellie hesitates. That twitch of her brow, the way her mouth presses into a thin line—dead giveaways.

“I’m… talkin’ to Tommy about it,” she says vaguely, avoiding your eyes.

You blink, eyebrows rising. “Right. So what—you think Joel’s gonna let you go gallivanting past the ridge when you’re not even cleared for patrol?”

She looks at you, jaw clenched, and for a second you can see the storm gathering behind her eyes.

“He is not my dad,” she snaps, a little too loud, a little too fast. There’s that fire again—half hurt, half fury. All Ellie.

You stare at her, then say, softer but firm, “He might as well be.”

Her mouth opens like she’s going to argue, to throw something sharp and final at you—but the words die in her throat. Instead, she scrubs a hand down her face, frustrated. “It’s not that simple,” she mutters.

“I know it’s not.” You lean forward, elbows on your knees. “But you can’t keep pretending like he’s just some guy who happened to keep you alive a few years ago. You know damn well that man would burn Jackson to the ground if something happened to you.”

Ellie huffs, not denying it, but clearly wrestling with the weight of it, “Yeah well he’s a piece of-...He’s Joel, he’s your dad….still figruing out how I play into this.”

You nod, understanding more than you let on. “You don’t have to have it figured out. But don’t shut him out because you’re scared of what forgiving him means. Or what not forgiving him means.”

Ellie tilts her head at you. “Since when did you get all wise?”

You smirk. “I treat bullet wounds and dislocated shoulders for a living. Comes with a side of unsolicited life advice.”

She laughs at that—a real one this time—and then leans back on the bed, arms crossed behind her head. “So… you’re really going?”

“Yeah. Day after tomorrow. Early.” You hesitate. “You could come, y’know. If Tommy signs off. It’d be… nice. To have you there. Plus…I’m pretty sure Dina is coming.”

“I was already sold you didn’t-”

“Oh but I wanted to, I so so sooooo wanted to.”

“I come bearing gifts!” you call out as you shoulder the door open with a little more force than necessary, the wood groaning under the pressure. Your voice carries through the room like sunlight filtering through a cracked window—familiar, teasing, and just enough to disrupt the quiet.

Turning around, you find your father exactly where you expected him: hunched over that overstuffed desk in the far corner, glasses perched on the tip of his nose, eyes squinting down at paperwork covered in numbers, scribbled timelines, and blocky handwriting that looked like it hadn’t changed since the outbreak. The desk itself is a mess—organized chaos, really—with loose files, maps, ration logs, and the occasional empty coffee mug that had seen better days. A few knick-knacks are scattered around—an old photo in a cracked frame, a pocket knife, a carved wooden elk. It’s the kind of clutter that says someone lives here. Someone stayed.

Despite the dried blood that still lined your sleeves and the faint yellow stain of iodine on your fingertips, you carry the Tupperware container full of cooked meat into the room like it’s a peace offering to two war strategists. Probably because it is.

Joel glances up at the sound of your voice, brow lifting just slightly in that way he does when he’s half-expecting trouble and half-hoping it’s just you being dramatic. With a casual flick of his hand, he motions for you to come closer.

You oblige, setting the Tupperware down on the nearest clear corner of the desk. Then, with a grin, you lean over and press a kiss to the top of his head, the way you always have—since you were little, since before Jackson, since before everything. He grunts at the affection but doesn’t pull away.

Your eyes trail over the cluttered mess he’s buried in: outlines of patrol shifts, expansion routes, stockpile inventories, and timelines for the repairs. You squint at the fine print and mutter under your breath, “Y’all should print these in English next time.”

Across the room, your aunt Maria stands by the wide-paned window, arms folded, gaze locked on Main Street below. She hasn’t said anything yet, but you can tell by the tension in her shoulders and the way her jaw tightens that whatever conversation had been happening before you walked in wasn’t exactly a fun one. She doesn’t look away from the view, but her presence fills the room just the same.

With a small hum, you tilt your head toward the desk, eyes scanning the mess with feigned interest. “You guys look like you’re in the middle of a very interesting conversation,” you remark, voice dipped in sarcasm but light enough to pass for a joke.

JJoel lets out a short, humorless breath—almost a laugh. “If ‘how the hell are we gonna stretch five gallons of gas across three outposts’ counts as interesting, then sure.” He rubs the back of his neck and leans forward, squinting at the latest update scrawled in rushed handwriting. “But back to it—the school and the library by spring, right? Both need new roofs. With the manpower we’ve got, I don’t see any of this gettin’ done ‘til summer, at best.”

Even though Maria stood by the window like she was listening, it was painfully obvious her thoughts were elsewhere. Her fingers tapped anxiously against her arm, and her voice cut in abruptly. “This window isn’t keepin’ the cold out anymore.”

Joel blinked at the sudden shift, his brow furrowing. “Chalk—it’s high up on my list,” he replied, gesturing vaguely toward one of the lists you’d been flipping through. “We’ve been burnin’ through a ton of it patching the new residential stretch—”

“We need to build faster,” she interrupted.

That caught your attention. You looked up from the supply logs you'd been scanning, the ones filled with crossed-off names and absences—reminders of the last flu outbreak and the dwindling labor pool. Even with good weather and no new crises, the odds were steep. You didn’t need to be a genius to know that “build faster” wasn’t a request grounded in reality. It was desperation, plain and simple.

Joel straightened in his chair, eyes flicking to the page you’d been reading before settling back on Maria. “Faster?” he repeated, voice low with disbelief. He tapped the edge of the desk once, then again, as if grounding himself. “Sure. How much faster? See, we got this dial called the constructo-meter.”

“Joel,” Maria warned, not even turning her head.

He grinned—just barely—but kept going. “The more you turn it, the faster we go.”

“Joel.”

You had to bite your lip to keep the laugh in. The way his voice dipped into mock-enthusiasm and the faux-serious glint in his eye made it worse.

Maria turned slightly, catching your expression out of the corner of her eye. “Starshine, do not egg him on.”

You raised both hands in mock surrender, forcing your grin into something that resembled composure. “Yes, ma’am,” you said, a little too obediently, and Joel snorted behind his hand.

—

The sky had already dimmed by the time you and Joel made it back home, the golden wash of sunset giving way to the soft gray hush of evening. The walk back had been quiet, not in a tense way, but the kind of comfortable silence that settles between two people used to surviving side by side. Jackson had quieted too—doors shutting, boots scraping porches, the faint hiss of fires being started in hearths. It felt like the town was exhaling after a long day.

Joel pushed open the door to your shared home and stepped aside to let you in first. You kicked your boots off at the threshold, flexing your aching feet with a tired grunt before hanging your coat on the hook near the door. Joel followed behind you, rubbing the back of his neck, already drifting toward the small kitchen.

“You hungry?” he asked, already reaching for the pan you’d left drying on the counter.

“I brought meat earlier, remember?” you said, flopping onto the couch and letting your head fall back against the cushion. “You and Maria were too busy arguing about the constructo-meter.”

Joel snorted. “Right.” He set the pan down and turned back to look at you, arms crossed over his chest now. “You did good, bringin’ that in. Whole damn town’s been stretched thin. That kinda help… matters.”

You gave him a soft smile, one that flickered briefly before your expression shifted. You sat up straighter, elbows resting on your knees as you stared down at your hands. They still bore faint traces of iodine and dirt under your nails, the stubborn signs of clinic work that wouldn’t fully wash away.

Joel noticed the shift immediately. “Alright,” he said slowly, narrowing his eyes. “What is it?”

You opened your mouth, then shut it again. Tried to find the right tone—something between don’t freak out and I’m not asking for permission. You settled for honesty.

“There’s a patrol heading out tomorrow,” you began. “Northwest ridge. There's a possible pharmacy out there. Might be looted already, but it could have some meds we’re low on—antibiotics, insulin, maybe even some old morphine. Tommy signed off on it.”

Joel didn’t say anything right away, and that silence hit harder than any words could’ve.

You took a breath. “I’m going with them.”

His jaw worked, but he kept his arms crossed, like he was holding himself in place. “The hell you are.”

You blinked. “Dad—”

“No,” he cut in, voice firmer now. “You’ve been patchin’ people up all week. You’re still limping from that last run. You don’t need to be out there riskin’ your neck when we’ve got actual patrol units trained for this kinda thing.”

“I am trained for this kind of thing,” you snapped, standing up now, tension threading into your spine. “And they need me. If we find anything useful, it could save lives. You know that.”

Joel shook his head, the line of his mouth tightening. “We also need you here. What good are you gonna be if you end up six feet under some collapsed shelf or with a clicker tearing through your back?”

You stepped forward, closing the space between you. “You don’t get to keep me wrapped in cotton just because the world scares you, Dad.”

His eyes flared at that—hurt, then anger, then something deeper. Something raw. Unfiltered. Like you’d struck a nerve that had never fully healed. He turned away from you for a second, running a hand down his face like he was trying to physically wipe the emotion off of it, like if he just pressed hard enough, the truth might stay buried where it had always been safer.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, rougher. It scraped out of him like gravel being dragged over stone.

“It ain’t the world that scares me. It’s the thought of losin’ you.”

That stopped you in your tracks.

Your mouth opened and closed once, twice. You blinked hard, because your vision had started to swim, and you couldn’t decide if it was from rage, guilt, or the sudden ache in your chest. Maybe all three.

“Damn your fuckin’ therapist,” you said, laughing through a crude huff. “The hell was that? You been rehearsin’ that line in the mirror or something?”

But the crack in your voice betrayed you.

Joel turned just slightly, catching the flicker of tears you were trying to blink away and the trembling laugh you were barely keeping under control. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched you from under that furrowed brow of his, expression unreadable—because that’s what Joel did when the feelings got too big. He locked down. He stayed quiet, like silence could protect the both of you.

You pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes, exhaling hard. “Fuck, that was... that was mean,” you said, voice muffled. “You don’t get to drop a line like that and expect me to just pack my damn bag and leave without feeling like shit.”

“I ain’t tryin’ to make you feel like shit,” he said softly, stepping closer. “I’m just… tellin’ the truth.”

You let your hands fall and look at him, really look at him. The years carved into his face. The tired eyes that had seen too much. The way his shoulders never fully relaxed. The man who had survived everything except peace. And the man who had, somehow, learned how to love again in the middle of it all.

“Yeah,” you muttered, voice quieter now. “I know.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was full. Of grief, of love, of a thousand things neither of you had said in all the days and nights spent in each other’s company. You crossed your arms tight over your chest, suddenly unsure if you should stay or go. If the distance between you was safer than the closeness.

Joel rubbed at his jaw, then sat heavily on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees. “You remind me so damn much of her,” he said after a beat. “Of Sarah.”

Your breath caught.

You lowered yourself onto the armrest opposite him, resting your hands in your lap, unsure if moving would make it worse. “You’ve never said that before.”

He shook his head slowly. “I don’t say a lotta things. Doesn’t mean I don’t think ‘em.”

Another silence, softer this time.

“I’m not her,” you said, not cruelly. Just gently. “I know you know that. But you gotta let me do this. You gotta let me …people need medicine.”

Joel looked at you, and whatever had hardened in his expression before—whatever wall he’d built to keep the world out—it cracked just a little. His voice came out low.

“I know I can’t stop you. And I ain’t tryin’ to keep you caged in. I just… wish I could give you a world where you didn’t have to be this brave.”

You smiled, sad and warm. “Yeah.”

He nodded, slowly. “So… you packin’ tonight or in the mornin’?”

“Tonight,” you replied, standing again with a shaky sigh. “You still gonna check my gear?”

Joel smirked faintly. “Damn right, get the rouger out I’ll clean ‘er for you.”

And just like that, the moment passed—but not forgotten. Not buried. Just quietly folded up and stored between you, like a well-worn blanket you’d both pull out when the nights got too long.

four years before

You always felt like the weather was almost taunting; the most beautiful of days could be overclouded with the harshest of emotions, and the harshest of days would be overcast with glee—perhaps, you assumed after a while, it was God’s humor. After all, in a world where your creations morph themselves into cannibalistic tree-like abnormalities, wouldn’t you, as a God, require something to keep the show you watch funny?

And yet, as you lingered under skies that shifted as abruptly as the moods of a capricious deity, you couldn’t shake the feeling that every element was part of an elaborate cosmic punchline. The brilliance of dawn might conceal under its golden glow an unexpected melancholy, while dusk’s deep purples and reds often brought with them a reminder that even decay could be beautiful. It was as though the universe itself delighted in a paradoxical jest—a scenario where profound sorrow twined effortlessly with unbridled joy.

Such as it was on that sun-filled day, the desolate greenscape of what had once been a large, bustling city sprawled before you, a poetic testament to nature’s inexorable reclaiming of human ambition. The urban skeleton, long abandoned to the march of time, was now overcast with the veins of earth—cracks and fissures mapping the rise of wild, unruly greenery that had stealthily woven its way through every crevice of once-proud architecture. The remnants of pavement and forgotten alleyways served as canvases upon which nature painted its slow, deliberate masterpiece.

Beams of light, bold and resolute, pierced through the dense canopy of trees in sporadic intervals, their shafts providing little but precious relief from the relentless summer heat. Each ray illuminated pockets of decay and remnants of history—a rusted sign swaying in a gentle breeze here, a shattered window catching the sun’s gleam there—reminding any observer that even in abandonment, the vestiges of the past could still whisper forgotten stories. The interplay between light and shadow cast intricate patterns on the overgrown facades, as if the city were sharing its silent secrets with the day.

With a short, measured sigh, you carefully hang the necklace upon the last of the crosses—a lone tribute in a barren memorial, too slight an offering to encompass all the lives lost in the relentless struggle, yet significant enough to avoid attracting any further, ironic power plays from those who thrive in chaos. The bronze pendant caught the sun’s dying rays, its engraved symbol quivering in the wind as if to mock death itself, whispering that even in their silent, dismembered state beneath the soil, the fallen still carried remnants of defiance.

For someone all of 15 years old, you had witnessed more sorrow than most could bear—a harsh education in grief wrought by a world undone. You had lost your mother to a bite, a merciless act of fate that, even in its pre-infected horror, shattered the fragile grasp you held on hope. It was a cruel irony: she had given up everything to chase a promise—a promise that the man who now lay cold and forgotten could save your irredeemable world. Her sacrifice, her desperate leap towards a better future, lingered in your memory like the fading notes of a long-forgotten song.

And then there was Gary Anderson—a doctor who had taken you under his wing, briefly intertwining his fate with yours in a world void of certainty. His care, given when you felt your own blood had abandoned the very idea of you, had been a beacon amidst the desolation. In his quiet acts of kindness, you saw the embers of a humanity that refused to surrender to despair, a courage that blossomed even in the darkest hours. He had trained you in survival, not just in the physical sense, but in the art of carrying on the legacy of hope, even when the world around you had already succumbed to decay.

“Why would he do this?” The words barely registered in your mind, yet you still heard them. You forced yourself to react—a slight turn of the head from your hunched position on the makeshift grave, where bodies had been burned and the dirt hastily overturned to bury the ashes. Names blurred together in your memory—other Fireflies who had stood by that harrowing night when the only hue in the chaos was a relentless, ominous red. Even if their names had slipped away, their grief, raw and uncontained, resonated with you. And if Abigail found comfort in their silent presences, then you, too, would strain to remember every one of them.

“I heard rumors. It was some kid he took that was supposebly—” “That wasn’t true… it’s not possible.”

Your eyes, still adjusting against the glare of a sun that seemed to mock the grim scene, swept over the line of people gathered in muted solidarity. They were scattered like shadows in the brightness of day—each lost soul marked by recent calamities and eternal regrets. As your gaze trailed over to her, a small huff escaped you as you rose unsteadily, wincing as you moved against the bandaged bullet wound on your jeans, the fabric as worn as the weight of your past.

Abigail was older than you, around 16 if memory served right—her stature slight but her resolve unmistakable. Despite the grim chatter that lingered in the air like smoke, your focus was drawn to her.

“You feeling okay?” You asked, tone carrying the unspoken concern of someone who had weathered too many storms. The look in her eyes was all the answer you needed, so you nodded slowly, tucking your hands into your pockets. “I…I can stay. I’ll stay. Get you guys settled, I mean—it wouldn’t hurt to have someone who could stitch y’all up.” Your attempt at humor was cautious, yet genuine; for a fleeting moment, you saw a spark of light return to her eyes.

Abby shook her head firmly. “You need to leave. We can’t both be fatherless—that would just be pathetic.” The words stung, and your eyes widened in a silent plea for reassurance. Sensing your discomfort, she softened her tone with a groan. “Fuck you, man, that was a good dead dad joke.”

You managed a small laugh, the sound brittle yet sincere. “Oh, thank God; yeah, no, that was good.” You ran a hand over your face, trying to dismiss the pain behind your smile. “But I’m serious—I’ll stay, help get you all settled. I feel…fuck, Gale, I feel like I can’t leave now. You… you’re basically all I got, and if—”

“You know I’m not coming with you,” she interrupted softly, the finality in her voice echoing the truth of your shared losses.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. Even though Jackson is suuuper nice and there are cookies, and there's a wall, so it's safe, and my Aunt Maria is kinda cool—” You started in a half-joking tone.

“Sparrow,” she reminded you, her voice laced with both affection and exasperation.

“Right, sorry, Jackson is always open for you guys, Gale.” You repeated, the words a familiar refrain in your endless attempts to drag fleeting moments of normalcy out of desolation. Every conversation felt like a desperate negotiation with fate—if only you could humor the memory of Gary and the rest of the Fireflies long enough to leave, grab a truck or a horse, go back, get your uncle, and then maybe... then maybe. But he hadn’t come for you. It was safer to assume he was gone forever. Either way, Jackson was the closest thing you had to family.

“I’m serious. I don’t want to wake up in 30 years and think, ‘God, I wonder what happened to Gale.’”

“Bold of you to assume you’d make it to thirty years,” she teased, the irony of the moment hanging between you like a fragile truce.

You scoffed lightly, “Shut up. I’ll make it to sixty years old, just you watch—and it’d be nice if you popped by so I knew that you too made it past that prehistoric age.”

A long silence stretched out, filled only by the distant rustle of wind in the ruined trees and the soft murmurs of other survivors tending to their wounds. Then Abby’s eyes softened further, and she nodded. “Yeah. Of course, I’ll come by.”

“Okay.” The word hung in the air, laden with promises too heavy for one generation to uphold on its own. You exhaled slowly as you met Gale’s steady gaze, the unspoken understanding between you palpable against the weight of a world crumbling into dusk.

“I…I guess I should go, the horse is ready and I need to get out of the city before nightfall.” Your voice carried a blend of urgency and quiet resignation—a reminder that every moment wasted in this broken landscape increased the risk of yet another nightmare. The distant lowing of the horse, patiently waiting in the murky edge of the makeshift camp, underscored the relentless march of time toward darkness.

“That’s smart. You got guns? Ammo?” Abby asked, her tone a mixture of genuine concern and the dry humor that had become your shared lifeline in a world where such trivialities could mean the difference between life and death. The question, though simple, resonated like a mantra in the face of unyielding uncertainty.

You managed a wry, deadpan smile, shaking your head as if to ward off the grim inevitability of fate. “No.” Then, with a slight tilt of your head that betrayed both pride and fatigue, you added, “Not stupid, Gale. Course I do.” The brief interjection carried the irony of a desperate world—where survival often meant defying expectations even when resources were scant.

Abby’s eyes softened at your response, the corners crinkling with a mix of worry and reluctant admiration. “Don’t get bit, Sparrow.” Her words were both a command and a benediction—a small spark of warmth amid the encroaching gloom of an unforgiving reality.

A chuckle, dark and full of brittle humor, escaped you. “Wasn’t counting on it.” The remark wasn’t so much a joke as a bitter acknowledgment: in a landscape where every shadow hid potential peril, every step was a gamble with fate. Yet, within that irony lay a stubborn ember of defiance—a promise to fight for another day, against all odds.

With a small nod you take a step away and you look to your side, just to see everyone staring at you, “Uh…Innvation is open? But, I really-” You take a quick look to Abby, who simply nods and you look back to them, “Stay safe, guys.”

It was always terrfifying on how easy it is to turn around and walk away from something, especially when you know that you probably will never see them again.

uhhh yeah, anyway, thanks so much for reading! Any feedback would be super super appreciated!!!

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asteroidzzzn · 2 years ago

Note

I was replaying Ellie’s Seattle day 3 and got to the point where her and Jesse go to the one building with all the comic posters and where they decide their was a convention there and I got an idea. i was wondering if you could write mordern!ellie taking reader to a comic convention and nerding out. Sorry that was a really bad explanation😭

a/n: dwdw i understood i get u, this is so cute and ur so right bc she would totally do that

comic-con with ellie

pairing: modern!ellie x reader

word count: 0.8k

warnings: just cursing and fluff (✿◠‿◠)

you trudged through the hot crowd, shading your eyes with your hand from the radiant august sun.

you were at a convention with your girlfriend, who had begged you to go with her during summer. for the most part, you had no idea what she was getting excited over, but you happily took pictures of her with writers and cosplayers regardless.

when ellie told you she was going to the bathroom, you divided to wander around the massive space. there were a few popular comics you recognized, such as spiderman, batman, and your favorite, the flash.

you saw bright flashing signs of DC and marvel, fondly remembering the time when ellie gave you a very lengthy lecture on the difference between the two after you had said, "but, they seem the same to me...?"

a booth caught your eye where people were dressed up in intricate armor and handing each other cards. you approached them and studied the cards laid out. a woman sitting on a chair noticed you and smiled.

"hi! looking to trade or buy any cards or figurines?"

she gestured to the array of options on the table.

"um, which ones are from uh...savage starlight? it's my girlfriend's favorite so i wanna get something for her, but i don't know much about it."

"oh, that's no problem," she began shuffling around the cards and placed a figurine in front of you, "these are all savage starlight. you're lucky you came now, it's been very popular."

you pointed to a card of a woman named dr. daniela star. her hair sort of looked like ellie's, and she looked like a badass.

"how much for this one?"

she winced, "about $145, she's extremely rare, and that's the last copy we have."

"oh shit," you chuckled, "it's ok, i'll get it."

you bought the card and stepped away to look at more booths. your phone buzzed with a notification.

els 💗💫: omg babe come here rn

els 💗💫 shared their location with you

els 💗💫: im upstairs behind the x-men wall

els 💗💫: they have one of the cards here that i've been looking for since i was 14!!!!!

els 💗💫: i need to get it

you found your way upstairs eventually and found ellie, grinning widely while holding a trading card. it looked similar to the one you had just bought, with the same trimming and design on the back.

"look what i found! it's the robot one i was telling you about!"

"oh wow, that's great! doesn't that mean you only need a few more to finish the collection?"

she groaned and threw her head back. "yeah, i just need two more. one is way too expensive though, and the other is impossible to find. it's dr. star, the scientist that created the robot," she held up the robot with a disappointed look, then slipped it into her pocket.

you intertwined her hand with yours. "let's keep looking around, i'm sure you can find something else cool."

she nodded as she led you downstairs to continue strolling around the convention.

"you're so wrong! i would be mj and you're peter!" you teased ellie while you giggled as she rolled her eyes.

"fine, but i'm gwen and you're miles," she remarked, as the two of you stepped outside into the chilling air. you continued to bicker playfully as you walked to the car. as you stepped in ellie sighed.

"thanks for coming to this with me. you have fun?"

you nodded, "yeah, actually, i got a funny picture with someone that was dressed up as ronald mcdonald. i sent it to jesse and dina and they said "oh my god, you found your twin."

ellie let out a loud laugh, and you continued to talk about the experience with her, sharing cool things you saw as you wandered around alone.

"ugh about that, i'm still so upset i couldn't find the card i wanted," she said, voice laced with sadness as she shifted the car into gear to drive home. "it's all good, next year they might have it, or i could find it on ebay if i sell an organ or two," she shrugged at you and placed her hands on the wheel.

you placed your hand on top of hers to stop her.

"actually, while you were in the bathroom i found something," you reached into your purse and pulled out the dr. daniela star card, still encased in the plastic protection.

"oh my fucking god," she breathed, her jaw slack.

you bit your lip as she simply stared. a few seconds passed.

"...ellie do you like it?"

"i love you," she said, taking the card into her hands and inspecting it.

you snickered. "me or her?"

her gaze shot up to yours. "you, you. of course," she set the card down to grab your face with both hands and kiss you so hard you nearly tipped over onto the window. she pulled away for only to fall back onto you again, hugging you tightly mumbling "thankyouthankyouthankyou" into your shirt.

she sat back up and took the robot card from her pocket and compared the two of them. she looked like she was in awe. it was adorable.

"you're such a dork," you said.

"yeah, you love it though."

a/n: i hope i did ur idea justice anon 🙏

taglist: @ximtiredx @gold-dustwomxn @elliesinterlude @fireflyelllie @trulygnomed @deluluwh-0-re @toesorhoes @elliewilliamsmissingfingerss @emluvselandabs @ariianelle @jokerpokimoon @lonelyfooryouonly

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #tlou game #the last of us #tlou 2 #wlw #ellie williams fluff #tlou part ii #dina woodward #jesse tlou #lesbian #the last of us fanfiction #modern!ellie williams

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edenspoem · 2 years ago

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future fic moodboard + header (out of like 3 upcoming fics) 𖤐

this is for sum priests-right-hand-man!ellie x nun!reader smut oneshot ive had on my mind for weeks now (abysmally inspired by 'The Little Hours' if uve ever seen that movie) but think kinda forbidden romance inna catholic convent/nunnery, curious virgin reader who wants to experience sumn, behind locked doors, very subtle looks and flirting near your other nun sisters/nun mother/priest etc, running away together or whateva all in a late medieval age world!! im alrdy dying at the thought of ellie in a masc white undershirt (similar to above) sweating under the cosmic sun working in a garden n she just spots u watching from the distance so curious n then it all turns into sumn a lot more daring and blasphemous akin to visiting you in your convent cell at moonrise till moonset teaching you outside ur regular nun duties <3 i am not nor ever been catholic so idk sht but i WILL write this thought out (prbly in volumes so i dont post a long ahh fic all at once) (if this isnt one of my most renowned fics i might flip my tit)

#ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams fic #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie x reader #lesbian #sapphic #the last of us #the last of us 2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie the last of us #ellie williams au #ellie williams moodboard

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tessa-quayle · 2 years ago

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spotlight on the OFC

(fanfiction recommendations) :)

the reader insert, the second person, the y/l/n convention (which, for me, can disrupt the text and i haven’t gotten used to it - not criticizing those who do it - i'm the problem, it’s me 🤪) are all the rage in fanfiction. i get the immersive appeal, and many of the fics i love and enjoy employ the second person.

richly drawn original characters draw me in and capture my attention. I appreciate how creative folks get with their OFCs, the headcanons, and how they have fun showing off these OFC’s quirks and strengths and interior lives and histories. it’s a joy to read.

here are a few great OFCs in the Pedro Pascal Character universe. the stories are engaging and this is a fairly diverse list of OFCs (by that I mean race/ethnicity, life experience, nationality, disability). as always, each author issues their own warnings.

listed in alphabetical order by writer:

@iamskyereads - Ezra (Prospect) x OFC Beatrice

ongoing series (Compulsion). love the sci-fi world-building in the first chapter. Beatrice is a sharp and compelling protagonist who’s suffered a traumatic brain injury and has PTSD.

@intheorangebedroom - Frankie (Triple Frontier) x OFC Gabrielle

complete series (Pleased to Meet You). angsty intercontinental love story between everyone’s favorite pilot and a cool French woman. the descriptions of different cities are vivid.

@jazzelsaur - Frankie (Triple Frontier) x OFC Ellie

complete series (Between the Raindrops). the slow burn here is a smolder in the best sense. Elliot (Ellie) is a widow who lives next door to Frankie. the weight of grief and angst in this series is remarkable.

@jomiddlemarch - Joel (The Last of Us) x OFC Grace

loose-fit series (On Call for the Apocalypse). crossover with Ted Lasso. set in Jackson WY between seasons 1 and 2, Grace is a snarky doctor (scratch a cynic, find a romantic) hanging out with Joel and Ellie (format better on AO3)

@julesonrecord and @lunapascal ( @stardustandskycrystals) - Dieter (the Bubble) x OFC Andie

ongoing series (Curls). we’re rooting for Dieter and Andie amid all the drama and shenanigans surrounding a pregnancy and a wedding. this reads like a novel you finish in one sitting.

@ladamedusoif - Mr Ben (SNL) x OFC Lydia

ongoing series (Visiting). Lydia is a European art historian who goes to teach at an East Coast liberal arts college and meets the dashing Mr Ben. delightful and smart (and I'm not just describing Mr Ben).

@radiowallet - Marcus (We Can Be Heroes) x OFC Amy

ongoing series (Eyes Open). Single parents Marcus and Amy find love in the workplace, HR be damned. Amy contains multitudes and the portrait of her as a mother is especially real and sweet.

@whatsnewalycat - Din (Mandalorian) x OFC Charlie

ongoing series (Passenger). Gritty, dark, cool AU where Din Djarin is a trucker/bounty hunter and Charlie is making her way west. this fic has a lot of postmodern energy.

@yespolkadotkitty - Pero (Great Wall) x OFC Jade

complete series (Fighting Blind). Fun, winsome adventure between a museum curator and our favorite Spanish warrior. Love the time-travel element, the nod to the Asian diaspora, and the rich world-building. This series is stay-up-past-your-bedtime reading.

feel free to share your fic recs and favorite OCs/OFCs (your own and/or others)! ❤️

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barakittens517 · 3 years ago

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PT III: The Reunion

Summary: In which chaos ensues (AKA the more the merrier, or whatever.)

PT II: The Finding PT IV: The Discovering

Words: 3,663

Warnings: mentions of alcohol use, minor (slightly graphic) character death, minor religious themes, mentions of past physical abuse (brief)

Pairing: Morpheus x gender neutral reader

Notes: tbh i couldn't write a fic and *not* include the absolute insanity of the cereal convention. personal shout out to caffeine for fueling 98% of this. sending good vibes to ellis bc they're about to get emotionally wrecked eight ways from sunday <333

Tag List: @ponyboys-sunsets @i-am-not-a-raccoon-anymore

“Morning, sunshine,” Blade Runner calls out. You’re conscious again, and your entire brain is throbbing in protest. You’re sitting in a cushioned armchair. Your hands are tied in your lap, and your ankles have been tied to the chair legs. You try to stand and discover Blade has looped a rope in a makeshift noose, tied around the back of the chair.

You try to swallow the panic rising in your throat. “What’s… the whole point of this?” you ask.

“We’re going to have some fun, now,” Blade calls from out of view. You notice the hotel’s hardcover Bible on the bed in front of you. The corner is covered in blood- no wonder you have such a magnificent headache.

He strolls back into view and holds up a straight razor. “Well, I’m going to have some fun,” he corrects himself. “One of us has to.”

He seats himself on the end of the bed in front of you. He opens his mouth as if to start a monologue, and promptly shuts it. It takes a moment to realize your sunglasses are gone.

“Y-your eyes… they’re… glowing…” he whispers under his breath. You refuse to look away from him, even as he falls to his knees in front of you.

“I don’t believe in that kind of thing,” he says shakily, “No, that’s not true.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about, but you know what’s going to happen now. “It’s true, whether you believe it or not,” you reply.

He’s crying now, an ugly sobbing that makes you sick to your stomach. “I didn’t want to,” he cries, “But they weren’t good people either!”

He’s gripping the straight razor so hard it’s cutting through his fingers. If it hurts, he doesn’t notice. “I’m not sorry,” he spits, and for a moment you’re afraid he’s going to hurt you. “But I’m not worth forgiving, either.”

You watch in horror as he begins slashing his wrists. Within moments the bedspread is soaked in crimson, and Blade falls face-first to the carpet.

You want to scream, to panic, to run as fast and as far away from this fucking hotel as possible, but you can’t do anything all tied up. You fidget enough to get your boots off, and your legs slide easily out of the rope. You use your hands to hold the noose out as you slide down to the floor.

You grab your boots and your aviators from the table and rush to the door. You can hear voices in the hallway, talking and laughing. You catch the rope around your hands on the locked door handle and wriggle your hands free. Your wrists are red and sore.

You slide the aviators over your face and wait for the hallway to fall silent before making a break for the stairs.

You make it back to the Corinthian’s room without interruption. You thank every god you can think of that he isn’t back yet. You lock the door and push one of the nightstands against it, just in case. You’ll order room service if you have to, but you’re not going back to that damned convention.

Your head hurts- not just from the obvious head wound. No, you really thought things were starting to make sense after talking with the Corinthian. Now you’re even more confused, and you have no one to talk to.

Your first idea is to take a hot shower. You dress in a pair of skinny jeans and a clean hoodie- there had never really been a point in owning pajamas. You settle in on one of the queen-sized beds and try to clear your mind. For once in your life, you’d rather be sleeping. Anything to keep from flashing back to the conference, and to Blade Runner.

He had been hunting other killers, but why? And even without the religious guilt Ryan had, he still killed himself. He had told you that your eyes were glowing. You walk to the bathroom mirror and stare for a long time, waiting to see what he was talking about.

Nothing.

You give up with a defeated sigh and return to the room. Whatever sleep looks like for you, it never comes easy. There’s a miniature electric teapot next to the Keurig on the office desk. Packets of chamomile and hot cocoa sit in a porcelain mug.

You boil a cup for yourself and dip the chamomile tea bag in, relishing in the warmth and the calm that it brings. After the mug is empty, you place it on the remaining nightstand and curl up under the covers. This time you dream of a memory.

“Ellis!” a woman’s voice rings out. You’re standing in the backyard of a brick mansion.

“Coming!” you yell in response.

You remember this day. You had come to London, lost as hell and wandering the streets about two months ago. A kind older woman named Ms. Jude, who ran a rather profitable orphanage on the outskirts of town. In exchange for helping her take care of the young ones, she let you stay.

“Now Ellis, you remember I told you I’ve been looking for a family,” Ms. Jude announces once you reach the kitchen. You nod. “Well, I believe I found one.” She grins proudly. “They’ll be here any minute now.”

You give her a hug and express your gratitude, but inside, your heart sinks. You didn’t want to leave Ms. Jude and the orphanage alone. You certainly didn’t want to start all over again, acquainting yourself with strangers.

Before you have time to even express this to Ms. Jude, the bell on the front door rings. Ms. Jude pats you gently on the shoulder. “It will be lovely for you, I promise,” she says. You follow her to the front door and meet your new family- the Marwoods. Saul, Evie, and their two children, David and Eden.

Time warps in front of you, only a month after you first left Ms. Jude. You found out very quickly that Saul was a mean drunk, and Evie could not- no, would not do anything to stop him. He left their own children alone, of course, but you were an easy target.

You watch, frozen in terror, as you relive the first time he laid hands on you. David and Eden had made a mess of the house, and although you had tried to clean up before Saul came home, they had broken a valuable family heirloom.

“What a waste of money you were,” he spat. “Don’t you bother comin’ back to this house.”

They were wrong about you, a voice echoes from behind you. A voice you recognize. The man from the ivory gates.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you ask, looking around blindly for any sign of him. He appears like smoke from the corner of the room. The memory has ended.

I have been looking for the creations I have lost, he answers. He steps closer to you, and you instinctively shrink back. He’s tall, and pale, dressed in a coat that shimmers in starlight and ends in flames.

So this is the Creator the Corinthian was talking about. Morpheus.

“The Corinthian is gone,” you say, “He’s not here.”

The stranger’s eyes flash with anger. Where is he?

You swallow the fear bubbling in your chest. “I… I don’t know. He left me here.”

Morpheus disappears in a whirlwind of sand, and you’re alone.

You wake up feeling worse than before. Your head is still throbbing, and there is an amount of dried blood staining the hotel pillow. Someone is trying to open the door. It unlocks, but between the chain lock and the nightstand, there’s no way to get through.

“Ellis!” you hear the Corinthian yell. “Do you mind telling me what the hell this is all for?” You rush to move the furniture and unlock the door for him. He’s standing with a younger boy.

“Sorry,” you mutter, “Uh… weird convention.” The Corinthian gives you a look, but he doesn’t press it any further in front of the kid.

“Alright, Jed,” he says, turning to the kid, “This whole room is yours. Anything you want to watch, anything you want to order from room service, go for it. On one condition.” He gives you a knowing look. “Stay in the room.”

Jed seems fine with the deal and immediately settles in. The Corinthian motions for you to follow him out in the hallway. You grab your bag and put on your aviators, assuming the worst.

You follow him to the hotel bar, keeping your eyes on the patterned carpet. There’s no way anyone knows what you did to Blade Runner already, but you never know. And you certainly don’t want to meet anyone else like him.

The Corinthian picks a table at the back and orders a vodka lemonade and a whiskey sour, on the rocks. Just like old times. You try to give the impression that you’re not in full panic mode, and you definitely don’t know you’re surrounded by serial killers. The Corinthian doesn’t buy it.

“So… I heard something pretty awful happened the other night,” he starts. You frown.

“Oh?”

The Corinthian nods, taking a sip of whiskey. “Oh, yeah. Turns out one of these guys was, uh… hunting down fellow collectors. Nimrod found out this morning. Whole room’s covered in blood and photographs of some of us. Cleaning bill’s gonna be a nightmare.”

“That’s, uh… That sounds pretty ominous for a cereal fan,” you reply.

The Corinthian laughs darkly. “Cut the shit, Ellis,” he says, leaning in close. “You know what we are here. And I know what you did.”

You take a sip of vodka to calm your nerves and realize your hand is shaking. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about. These people are fucking weird, though.”

He shakes his head. “Ellis, I know what happened. Blade Runner didn’t just kill himself. And I bet you your head hurts pretty bad still, considering all that blood in the room. Now, do you want to tell me what the fuck happened?”

Your mind is racing with all of the potential bullshit excuses, but you already know you’re screwed. “I didn’t do anything on purpose. They invited me to the panel last night, and I only stayed for a little bit! I wasn’t trying to fuck up, I swear. But between getting killed and being killed, I’m glad that asshole is dead.”

For once, the Corinthian grins. He raises his glass to clink against yours. “I’ll drink that.”

You sit in silence for a moment. You figure he deserves to know. “He’s looking for you, you know,” you say.

The Corinthian sets his empty glass down and signals to the bartender for another. “I know.”

Do you tell him about the dream? That Morpheus found you? The Corinthian sighs. “It’s been over a century. I’d be an idiot not to expect it.”

“What are you going to do?”

He smiles. “I’m hoping I won’t have to do a thing. That’s why Jed’s here. That vortex of a girl could take care of Dream in an instant.”

“Vortex?” you ask.

He nods. “Once every hundred years or so, some poor soul has enough potential to set us free. Dream kills them. Every. Time. Not now, though. Not with her.”

You pretend that that makes sense, but it doesn’t.

“I guess I hope it goes well, then,” you reply.

You want to ask more questions, to tell the Corinthian that Morpheus himself fucking spoke to you, but Nimrod appears and nervously taps on the table.

“You, uh, you ready for your big speech?” he asks. “We’re getting everything set up in the auditorium right now.

The Corinthian smiles. “Sounds great. I’ll be there in just a second.” Nimrod nods and quickly walks out of the bar. You don’t understand how one man can look so scared of everything, and still have the balls to murder people for fun.

The Corinthian turns back to you. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

“Am I supposed to… What am I supposed to do?” you ask. He shrugs.

“You already know what we are here. Hell, you fit right in, don’t you? Tell you what, get another drink or two, clear your head a bit, and then head down to the auditorium. As long as you don’t suicide anyone, I don’t see the problem.”

Your stomach turns. “O-okay. Cool.” He signals to the bartender to get you another drink and leaves. When the bartender comes with your next drink, you tip him $20 out of your bag. Something doesn’t feel right.

I mean, it’s a serial killer convention, of course it’s not right. But something feels off about the day, and you wish the Corinthian didn’t have to leave so soon. You wander into the hotel lobby and practically collapse onto one of the cushioned benches.

Everything is so overwhelming. You’re surrounded by serial killers- hell, at this point you technically qualify as one of them. And if Morpheus is looking for his creations, only to find you with the Corinthian, you’re surely going to end up dead. Or worse. You don't even know what worse would be, but remembering the fiery look in his eyes, you don’t want to find out.

“Are you alright, dear? Bit dark in here for glasses, I’d think,” someone says. You look up and come face to face with an older man, wearing a large green overcoat and carrying a peculiar-looking cane. He seems harmless enough, but he’s wearing a name tag that reads The Dutch Uncle.

Jesus Christ, you cannot catch a break from these assholes. You push your sunglasses farther up onto your face and fake a smile. “I’m fine, thanks,” you say bitterly.

He looks offended, surprisingly. “My apologies for intruding, really. I’m, uh, I’m not here for the convention.” His eyes widen when he catches the name tag clipped to your sweatshirt. “The Corinthian?” he whispers.

You nod. “I’m not here for it either. But, yeah, I came with him.”

“And you’re alive?” he asks.

You want to laugh, but you don’t. “Yes, I’m alive.”

He takes the seat next to you and leans in with a quiet voice. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but how is that possible?”

You shrug, trying not to think about the way in which you met the nightmare. There have been too many deaths, too much blood on your hands. You’re exhausted, down to the very bone. Living this long has been tiring, but it’s never been this hectic.

“He’s not interested in me, I guess. He’s looking for someone else.”

The Dutch Uncle looks even more concerned now. “Oh, dear… Then I suppose you already know what he is capable of. Is he still on the premises?”

You nod towards the auditorium. “He’s about to give a speech, actually. I was about to head in. Did you want to come with me?”

The Dutch Uncle shakes his head. “No, no I don’t want to do that. I- actually, you said he was looking for someone else. Do you know who that might be?”

“It’s not you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Some girl. Something about ‘’she’s a vortex’, yadda yadda yadda,” you explain.

His jaw drops, if only for a moment. “Do you know her name?”

“Rose Walker. He brought her brother here, too. He’s trying to, I don’t know, he said something about setting everyone free. I don’t understand.”

The Dutch Uncle stands up abruptly. “I’m sorry, my dear, but I need to leave. I happen to have brought Rose Walker here. I- oh, I have made a terrible mistake. I must speak with Lucienne before he gets here.”

“Good luck, I guess,” you call after him, but he’s already rushing out of the lobby. You sigh and head towards the auditorium. There’s no use missing the Corinthian’s speech. It will probably make you sick to your stomach- again- but it’s better than doing nothing.

You take a seat at the back of the auditorium, careful to distance yourself from the regular convention members. Nimrod is standing nervously at the front, organizing his notes on the podium.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have some announcements before I introduce our guest speaker. Firstly, I’d like to thank everyone for making the trip this year. I’m glad to see so many of us gathered, if only for a couple of days. Now, the opportunity to be in the running for next year’s cash prize ends at 3PM this afternoon. Please find either myself or the Dark Angel to sign up.” He pauses momentarily, scanning the faces in the crowd. He stops when he notices you in the back.

“I, uh, I have some bad- rather, some mixed news about our convention this year. Yesterday, the organizers discovered a collector of collectors, if you will, in our midst.” The crowd gasps, but Nimrod, undaunted, continues. “The threat to our cherished community has been extinguished. But it is with utmost disappointment that I tell you Blade Runner has committed the unforgivable deed. Please note that we will be taking extra precautions in the future to avoid another such disturbance.”

He coughs, breaking the silence that follows. The discomfort in the room is palpable, but Nimrod soldiers on. “With the formalities out of the way, it truly is my pleasure now to introduce… a man dear to all of our hearts, a legend in his own lifetime… The Corinthian!”

A deafening applause breaks out, and you’re drawn to clapping with the rest of them. The blonde nightmare looks pleased with the reception as Nimrod quickly disappears off stage.

“You know, I don’t usually speak in public,” the Corinthian starts, “but the opportunity of talking to all of you is just too good to pass up. Because you are special people. Very special people…” The nightmare continues, but you’re distracted by someone pulling on your sweatshirt sleeve. It’s Nimrod, and he is visibly pissed.

“Come with me,” he whispers tersely, and as much as you’d rather fucking not, you follow him out to the back of the auditorium. The maintenance room. Your heart is pounding in your chest. You remember the look he gave you during his speech. He knows you killed Blade Runner.

“I-I’m not sure what this is about,” you stutter, “but the Corinthian gave me permission to be in the audience. If that’s the problem here.”

Nimrod glares. “That is very much not the problem here, but I’ll have to take note of his overstepping convention rules. You are not a collector, and you never should have come here.” He’s closing the distance between you now, until you’re backed into one of the cold, metal walls.

“I can leave,” you say, but Nimrod shakes his head.

“No, I don’t think that’s going to fix things. Blade Runner was an admirable kill, even I’ll admit that, but I don’t believe we can just let you walk out of here.” He’s pulled a syringe out of his pocket, and grins menacingly. “Dark Angel let me borrow some of her supplies for this one. I may have to invest in it. Flunitrazepam, I believe she called it. Makes it easier to truly savor the experience.”

“I thought he killed himself,” you say, sliding along the wall until you’re backed into the very corner. Nimrod pauses.

“We thought so, as well, until we noticed he must’ve had someone with him. Someone who compelled him. It really wasn’t difficult to trace security footage- granted, it’s all been deleted now. I’m curious, as the Corinthian’s plus-one, who are you, really?”

You eye the door behind you, trying to find a way to stall for time. Nimrod looks fairly old, and you’re probably faster than him. “Nobody, honestly. I’m not anyone. I’m not important,” you reply. The words sting as they leave your mouth. You really don’t fucking matter at all. Even if Nimrod were to gut you like an animal, it wouldn’t make a difference to the universe.

“I don’t believe that,” he snaps. “What are you, in training? What’s with the glasses?” Before you have a moment to react, he’s snatched them off of your face.

Shitshitshitshit-

“No,” you say coldly. As Nimrod stares you down, you watch the expression on his face speedrun the five stages of grief.

“But that’s not possible,” he breathes, “I’ve done everything for Him. Am I not Nimrod, a mighty hunter before the Lord?”

“Not at all,” you answer, although you know he’s not listening to you. You wish above all that you didn’t have to be a witness the entire time.

Why now, after a century of wandering the earth, was this happening to you? You’d never wished death on anyone, even the Marlowes. You didn’t believe in any god, for crying out loud! You’d been abandoned by everyone. If there were a god, he owed you.

Nimrod is crying quietly now, having accepted the fate before him. He plunges the syringe into his chest, and within a minute he is lying on the floor, eyes wide open. He’s still breathing, but you wonder how long that will last.

Your sunglasses, unfortunately, are a lost cause. They’re crushed underneath his body, and there’s no use in trying to retrieve them. Without a second thought, you rush back to the auditorium. You need to tell the Corinthian that they think it’s his fault. That they’re going to turn on him.

But you’re too late.

The audience is silent, eyes closed. Asleep. The nightmare is speaking with a tall man in a flaming coat- Morpheus. You can only catch a part of what they’re saying. The Corinthian is arguing with him, something about humanity. You stand, transfixed in horror, as the nightmare begins to dissipate to sand.

“I created you poorly, then,” you hear Morpheus say, “As I do uncreate you now.”

Oh, fuck.

#morpheus x reader #dream x gn! reader #the corinthian #netflix sandman #the sandman #morpheus #dream of the endless

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swanimagines · 1 year ago

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FREDDY CARTER'S CHARACTERS SAY "I LOVE YOU" FOR THE FIRST TIME

the gifs are mine!

It was after a few months of dating. Pin had invited you to come along on a riding trip to pass time, you had ridden for two hours and stopped by the beach to look at the sunset, cuddling on a blanket and sharing occasional kisses and nuzzles. You laughed at Pin’s jokes and Pin fell silent for a moment. He admired your smile, listened to your laugh - God, if he had a choice at that moment, he would relish in it forever. Then, he said it, louder than he had intended. “I love you.”

Your smile immediately disappeared as you snapped your gaze to Pin, and for a moment he was wondering if he said it too soon, if it would make it awkward. If you would pull away and tell him that you should probably go. But then you broke into a smile too, took a hold of his hand and pressed a tender kiss on his lips. And you whispered against his lips, “I love you too.”

KAZ

Ok a bit longer because he refuses to say it for a long time. You know he loves you but he hasn’t said it.

You’d been together in a way since you were teenagers, but it took years of him even saying it aloud he thinks of you two being a couple/dating, so the first time he says “I love you”? The boi had barely told you he cares about you in a romantic sense.

It happened quite spontaneously, you had had a fight over you risking your life during a heist, Kaz paced back and forth his office, telling you how reckless you were, how you could have died, how stupid you were when you went solo.

You clenched your fists, taking a step towards Kaz, making him stop pacing. “You never believe in anyone’s else’s judgment but yours, you get mad even if me going solo was a success - which it was! It comes off as entitled and infuriating, and quite frankly, sometimes I wonder if you really love me or if-”

“I do!” he let out, and the second he said it, all color left his face and he staggered back, leaving you stunned, staring at him.

You had definitely not expected that. Kaz Brekker confessing his feelings for you like that.

You both were silent for a moment, before Kaz could even out his breathing. He closed his eyes for a moment. “I do love you,” he repeated, this time quietly. “And that’s exactly why I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

You stared at him for a moment longer, before you took a tiny step forward, lightly grazing the sleeves of his shirt with a small smile. “You won’t lose me.”

TOM

You had helped him escape after he committed the murders at the farm - you had always liked him and even though this “new” Tom scared you to some extent, you still wanted to help him, hiding him away just in case. But after his mum had been sentenced to prison, you were able to live more freely and not hide him every single time you heard sirens approaching.

It took some time, maybe a year. Your relationship had deepened during that time, and you lived together, his name was on the door too. He had moved from your couch to your bed, and you often fell asleep cuddling or after a make out session.

One such night was when it happened. You were making out in your bed, him hovering on top of you.

“I love you,” he suddenly muttered against your lips, and then continued kissing. Your heart had melted on that moment and you returned the sentiment in between kisses.

JASON

Your relationship was basing itself on raw passion and not really real love for a long time. You shared a room and offered each other pleasure whenever either of you needed it, but you were also free to do it with other people. But as time went by, it started shifting into something deeper - something neither of you had really expected. The mornings had begun to start with cuddles rather than just waking up and getting up. He started spending Crowley’s parties near you rather than go dance with other people and snog with them. He started to be visibly jealous if someone was checking you out or flirting with you.

So one night when you were about to go to sleep, changing to your nightwear, you asked him. “Why have you acted so weird lately?”

Jason paused while unbuttoning his shirt, looking over at you with a frown. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged. “You’ve been… different. I don’t know, it's just… our arrangement feels different.”

Jason was quiet for a moment, and then he sighed.

“I’ve been feeling different,” he mumbled, finally taking off his shirt.

“Different how?”

Jason looked at you, clearly contemplating if he should tell you. But then he said it. “I think I’ve fallen in love with you. It isn’t part of our arrangement, but it happened.”

You stared at him for a moment, but then your lips turned into a smirk. “Oh, really? Come here, then. Show me how much you love me.”

It took him a few moments to register what you said, but the next moment, he was already on top of you, kissing you passionately as he slowly undid the buttons of your night shirt, his head dipping to the crook of your neck, pressing more kisses there. You moaned softly as he ran his hands over your body, your fingers tangling into his hair.

After a moment you pulled away slightly, looking into his eyes and caressed his cheek. “Just for the record… I love you too.”

ELLIS

He’s a romantic. He hadn’t even told you about his feelings before he had already been completely and utterly in love with you. So when you agreed to date him, he wanted to sing his heart out to you immediately but instead, he held his deepest feelings inside him for quite a bit.

It really wasn’t before you almost died because of the Catherine-turned-demon. He ran in to hold you, almost crying from joy after you assured him you’re alright and then, he held your face between his hands and pressed his lips against yours, kissing you like never before. After the kiss, he leaned his forehead against yours, whispering, “I love you.”

You smiled after hearing it, caressing his sides. “I love you too.”

---

Requests are always open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker #kaz brekker imagine #pin hawthorne imagine #pin hawthorne #pin hawthorne x reader #jason ripper #jason ripper x reader #jason ripper imagine #15 days tom #15 days tom x reader #15 days tom imagine #the convent ellis #the convent ellis x reader #the convent ellis imagine #my works

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yojeongin · 3 years ago

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EVOL — 13: CONTACT PRINTS

→club pres!renjun x publicity officer!reader

genre: social media au, humor, fluff, slow burn, romance, slice of life, future angst, coming of age, college au

m.list | previous | next

an: i think I’ll start posting twice on the weekends, it seems more conventional and won’t make you guys wait as long for a next part

taglist: @btssf9nct @resceluwu @ellie-idk-anymore @hyunsbunny @aminihhj @flower-lise @eggoyu @haknyeonsju @eboyjuni @nshitae @daegalfangirl @luvdroids @samsemsame @haechansgfreal @butterfliesinthenightsky @lyleo @jiye0n0

let me know if you’d like to join the taglist!

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lahyene · 5 years ago

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Family Sundays.

Pairing: steve rogers x reader

Summary: You and Steve have the perfect, big family you’ve always dreamed of.

Themes: fluff, romance, family life, domestic life

Word count: 759

It’s never a boring day at the Rogers’ household, and today is simply another example. Having four children and a superhero as a husband is certainly not a conventional life, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Especially on a day like today- Sundays are generally family days, and even though the next day is Monday, you love this part of the week more than anything.

“Roman! Buddy, you don’t have to copy whatever your sister’s drawing.” Steve chuckles as he looks down at the two-year-old twins sitting at the kiddie table in the playroom, crayons and paper spread out across the surface. Roman’s blue eyes keep darting to Brooklyn’s paper before he quickly tries to copy her scribbles, looking focused. He glances up at his father for a second, almost quizzical, before simply looking back at his paper and continuing what he was doing before.

You giggle from your spot on the couch, sitting next to your six-year-old daughter Ellie who’s currently holding baby Falcon in her lap, having wanted desperately to feed him his bottle. You and Steve’s first born is incredibly nurturing, loyal, and the perfect role model as a big sister, much to you and your husband’s relief. Rather than feeling jealousy or annoyance towards her little siblings, she insists on taking care of them, playing with them, and teaching them- if anything, you and Steve sometimes have to encourage her to play with her own toys and do her own thing simply so she can enjoy her childhood as well.

You stand up and come over to the tiny table as well, looking down at their papers filled with messy scribbles everywhere. “What are ya drawing, Brookie?” you ask, reaching down to gently stroke her blonde hair. She makes an incoherent babbling noise as she keeps drawing, making Roman suddenly giggle.

Steve chuckles, wrapping his arm around your waist. “These two are such goofballs.” He murmurs fondly, then looks over to his eldest and youngest.

“Is Falcon drinking good, Ellie?” he asks, and Ellie nods happily with sparkling blue eyes similar to her father’s.

“Uh-huh! He’s soooo hungry. Well, he’s kinda always hungry.” She muses, and you laugh softly, eyes flickering over the nine-month-old sucking on his bottle for dear life.

“You’re definitely right about that.” You mumble under your breath playfully, “And Mama has the nipples to prove it.”

Steve laughs, squeezing your side playfully as he leans in to murmur in your ear, “And this guy still loves them, so nothing to worry about.” You laugh, tilting your head up to peck his lips lovingly.

“Unnh!?” Roman suddenly whines, lifting his arms up towards you. You blink and laugh, leaning over to scoop him up.

“What, you want a kiss, too?” You lean in and kiss all over his face playfully. “Mwah, mwah, mwah! There you go, sweetheart!” He giggles loudly, clapping his hands in delight. Of course, Brooklyn now wants attention as she practically slams her crayons down, whining in distress. Steve laughs and picks her up as well, planting a big kiss on her forehead. “What are we gonna do with you two? I love you, Brookie, you know that, right?”

The rest of the day is spent playing both indoors and outdoors, followed by good old New York style pizza for dinner before it’s time for bed. Once all the kids are sleeping, you and Steve retreat to your bedroom, changing and crawling into the large bed completely exhausted. Having four kids is tiring to say the least, but you wouldn’t trade any of this for the world.

“We have the best children,” Steve says with a satisfied sigh as he holds you close, “And I have the best wife.”

You smile happily as you cuddle into him, fingers absentmindedly running over his chest. “It helps that you’re such an amazing dad,” you murmur, “Those kids love you so much. Especially Ellie, that little Daddy’s girl.” You giggle softly, and he laughs along.

“She’s growing up so fast… I can't believe she’s going to be in second grade soon. And then one day it’ll be Brookie and Roman, and then Falcon… can you even imagine Falcon as a toddler?”

“No. And I don’t want to,” you mumble playfully, shaking your head into his chest. “Not my little baby boy.”

Steve smiles and leans down to kiss the top of your head. “Mm. You must be exhausted. Get some sleep, my little baby girl.” He teases, and you sigh in content, nodding tiredly.

“Don��t have to tell me twice…”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you

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jamielea81 · 5 years ago

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When We Were Young

Chapter 2

Description: Leaving the only home your daughter had ever known wasn’t part of the grand plan. But then again, sometimes taking chances can change your whole life. And you should know that, you’ve been doing that since the start.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Angst. A curse word or two.

Word Count: 2,700

A/N: Thank you for the wonderful response to the first chapter! Hope you enjoy this added twist. As always, this is strictly for fun and I mean no harm. Please let me know your thoughts as I love to read them. Likes and reblogs give me life.

Catch up with Chapter One

“I’m your..” Chris shook his head and looked at the assistant in the room and then at the photographer. “Jodes, I need a minute.”

Chris didn’t wait for a response, instead he slid his arm from around Ellie’s waist to grab her hand, pulling her to the far end of the room.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Ellington. Ellie for short,” she said, playing with her hair. “Look, I don’t want anything. Just wanted to see you in person,” she said softly, her nerves coming back to her.

“Why do you think I’m your father? You have to understand, this isn’t the first time someone has said those same words to me.”

Ellie bit her lip and nodded. “NYC Cryobank and Family Planning.”

“Fuck,” Chris swore softly, ducking his head. “How old are you are you anyway?”

“Fifteen.”

“It’s not possible,” Chris said shaking his head. “I was eighteen when I donated.” He licked his lips and patted his pocket for his phone.

“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t expire like milk,” she replied, Chris giving her a weak smile.

Ellie played with her fingers, not knowing what else to say. The whole speech she played over and over in her head was suddenly forgotten. Reaching into her jeans pocket, she pulled out a folded piece of notebook paper and stretched out her hand for him to take it.

“It’s my mom’s number. Figured it would be weird for you to call a minor.” Chris took it and shoved it into his back pocket. “Not that you have to call!” she added quickly. “I just wanted you to know that I exist. And we’re great. My mom and me, I mean. I’ve had a great life and wanted to see the person that made it possible for me to exist. Just don’t call tonight. She doesn’t know I’m here. If you decide to call, I mean.”

They looked at each other. Ellie trying to memorize his face. Chris trying to find himself in her eyes and smile.

“It was nice to meet you Ellie,” Chris said, a closed lip smile on his face, finality in his voice.

“Ye-yeah. You too,” she said, dropping her head and walking out the room. She wanted her mom and she wanted her now. This was a mistake and it was taking everything in her not to cry.

Ellie made it to the nearest restroom, walking past a line of girls that were washing their hands or fixing their makeup. She pushed into the stall at the end of the row, locked the door and sat down on the seat. She grabbed a large wad of toilet paper from the dispenser, flushed the toilet, and placed the paper over her mouth. The tears and her sobs started to flow. She hoped that both the sound of the toilet and the paper would muffle her cries.

It had been three hours since you received the call from the academy about your daughter missing class. Three long hours of not knowing where she was. Not knowing if she were safe. Gwen had done her best to calm you down as she usually did, but your mind was still reeling. The troubling thing is there is nothing you could do but wait.

The house was mostly unpacked except for your books that were going to be placed in the small bookcase in the living room and your office which you had not utilized in the nearly three weeks that you lived in Belmont. You couldn’t really call it an office per se, it was nook off the formal dining room that wouldn’t be used. Ellie and you were plate on your lap on the couch or out on the deck kind of people. You had a dining room table, but it was mostly a place for Ellie to spread out her school assignments and for the occasional crafting you did.

With your books all unpacked, the dining room table dusted, and the office looking it bit more like an office, you collapsed on your couch. Feet up, blouse off save for your cami, you were done with this day. Once she got home and knew she was safe, you were going to bed. You’d have to dream up a punishment. Ellie hardly got in to trouble. She occasionally mouthed off like teenagers did, but this was uncharted territory for you.

You heard the door open and you were immediately on your feet, rushing down the stairs to the entry way. Her face was puffy and red and you knew immediately something was wrong.

“Mama…” she started, having a hard time catching her breath. “I’m…so…sorry.”

You wrapped your arms around her as she started to sob on your chest. “Shhh. I got you,” you said softly.

When she started to settle down you urged her to follow you up the stairs. “Why don’t you take a hot bath and I’ll get your jammies ready and then we’ll talk?” Ellie nodded her head slowly. “You can use my tub. I’ve got the good bath stuff anyway,” you said, sending her a wink.

“Thank you,” she said with teary eyes. “I love you.”

“Love you too baby.”

Whatever happened was big and you hoped she would be honest with you.

A frozen pizza was currently baking in the oven. Tonight, was not the night for a home cooked meal as you were still too worked up as was Ellie. You had changed into pajamas as well despite it only being six in the evening.

Ellie was sitting on one end of the couch with her body turned to face you, her knees pressed against her chest. You sat on the other end facing her, one leg tucked under the other.

“I haven’t been truthful with you,” she started. “About a year ago, I found some information out.”

“What kind of information, Ellie?” This was sounding way too ominous for your liking.

“Christian. You remember Christian?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

“From third and fourth grade soccer when you played on that co-ed team?”

She nodded her head. “Christian’s really good with a computer. I’m pretty sure he’ll be working for the FBI one day. He uh, he was able to do some digging for me.”

“What in the world would he need to dig up for you?”

“He was looking into the donation center you used. I asked him to try to find out information about the donor you picked.”

“Ellington Rae,” you breathed out.

“I’m sorry mom. I just really wanted to know.” Her eyes started to well up with tears again.

You nodded your head and gestured with your hand for her to continue.

“Well, he found your case number and was able to find the donor number. He eventually found the name assigned to the donor number.”

You let out a slow breath, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“I went to see him today. He lives here in Boston. At least he does most of the time.”

“Ellie!” you shouted. “That’s not only dangerous but an evasion of privacy. We don’t know this person. He could be a bad guy. He could have a family of his own now.”

She was full on crying again and your heart was stuck between being angry and wanting to soothe your child. Of course, you pulled her to you, wrapping her in a hug again.

She pulled back, letting her hands fall into your lap. You grabbed on to both of her with yours.

“Are you okay?” You shook your head. “Of course, you’re not.”

“There’s something else,” she said.

“Do I wanna know?”

She licked her lips. “He’s Chris Evans. The actor.”

Well, shit.

“I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“I just wanted to see him mom. Not on the movie screen or in pictures online. I just had to see his face in person. Just once. I wanted to see if he smiled like me. Or see if his eyebrows shoot up like mine do when I laugh.”

You nodded your head numbly. Even though you barely talked to your own father, you understood the need to know.

“That’s where I went today. There’s a comic convention downtown and he was appearing today. I bought a ticket to get my picture taken with him. He’s only there today, so that’s why I skipped school.”

You released her hands, standing to your feet, and started to pace. “Was this whole move a lie Ellie? Are we here so you could meet this man?”

She covered her face with her hands but didn’t answer.

“Did we only move to Boston so you could meet your biological father?” you asked sternly.

“S’not the only reason. I’m so sorry mom. I wanted us to move here for Harvard, but I could have found another engineering high school closer to home.”

You shook your head. It was your turn to cry. The two of you had a very honest relationship and made decisions together. The trust was broken and you weren’t sure if it could be repaired anytime soon.

The closeness you and Ellie shared is why she knew from the time she was eight years old that she didn’t have a dad like other kids did. You were open and honest with her about the decision you made at twenty one. The two of you have talked about it several times through the years.

When she was twelve, she questioned whether you had gotten pregnant to escape your parents. You explained to her that wasn’t the reason. You had wanted to be mom. Had known that’s what you wanted more than anything.

You weren’t in a serious relationship and didn’t want a random hook up to father your child. You had friends you could have asked, but thought that would complicate things as those friends settled down with spouses of their own. You had just graduated from college and were spending four additional months in New York before your lease ran out. Your parents had expected you to come home to Kentucky and you had planned on doing so. You had money, more than enough. Not only did your parents send you a more than generous allowance every month for four years, you also had a large sum of money your grandma Ellie had left you that became yours when you turned twenty one. Her only request was to do something for you with it.

Researching and planning was what you were good at. Apparently, those skills came in handy when finding a donation and family planning center. Two consultations and an appointment later, you had a positive pregnancy test sitting on your bathroom vanity. After two months, you called your mother to tell her. To say that conversation went poorly was an understatement. You were throwing your life away according to her. She didn’t know Ellie was the result of a sperm donor. To this day, only Ellie and couple of close friends knew. Your mother and father figured you had been with a deadbeat guy who chose not to stick around. You were essentially told not to come home.

New York City wasn’t a place you wanted to raise a child. You had loved the city all through college, but rent was expensive and buying would be out of the question. You wanted some place that had that small-town feel. Somewhere a little quieter. When your classmate Peter offered you a place to stay in his home-town of Wilmington, you took him up on the offer. Living with Peter and his brother Caleb was a bit of a change for you. You often found yourself cleaning up after the two of them. It didn’t last long as you found employment with an employer that wasn’t discouraged by your six-month pregnant belly. You found a two-bedroom apartment shortly after, decorating the nursery in neutral colors because you wanted to be surprised.

Ellington Rae Y/L/N was born in the early hours of April sixth. Named affectionately after your grandmother. Your favorite person in the world, second now that you had your little Ellie. She came out screaming and never stopped. She was a fussy baby and you found yourself in tears almost as much as she were. But she was your everything and still is. Your parents came to visit when she was three months old. They visited yearly, often bringing gifts that a child did not need nor want. When she turned five, they sent money once a year for her birthday. The money went into an account for Ellie’s schooling and when she expressed dreams of Harvard, you were glad you did.

When she was three years old, you moved out of that small two-bedroom apartment into your bungalow near the beach and that’s where the two of you stayed. Friends became family and you were both happy. But now everything seemed to be a mess.

“It’s going to take time, Ellie. My trust has been broken but I’m mostly hurt that you couldn’t come to me about this. We should have talked about this. We could have come up with a plan together.”

You sit back down on the couch and pull her back to you. She’s still your baby even though she’s as tall as you.

“You’re right and I’m sorry. It was a mistake,” she said, shaking her head. “I gave him your number. You know. In case he wanted to call. Wanted to know me.”

She sounds so damn broken and you’re feeling broken over it.

“Okay, baby. If he calls, we’ll take it one step at a time. But if he doesn’t, it’s his damn loss because you are the best thing I have ever known in this world and that will never change.”

Two weeks had passed and Chris hadn’t called. Ellie didn’t talk about it, but you knew it affected her. Being rejected by anyone hurt. You couldn’t blame Chris entirely though. Him choosing to donate all those years ago was his choice. It was supposed to be an anonymous one. Now he knew he brought a life into this world. Accepting that had to be hard for anyone. Accepting that and being a public person was probably harder.

Punishing Ellie was harder on your than it was on her. She’s the new kid in town and at that age where life long friendships are formed, you didn’t want to exclude her from hanging out with her friends. So, you limited it to only weekends. She had to check in with you on where she was or if she went to a different location than what was planned. She was also in charge of dishes and taking out the trash. Her biggest punishment of all was knowing you lost a lot of trust in her.

Your phone rang only to stop ringing after two rings. You were in the kitchen, putting away this week’s groceries so you hadn’t been able to reach it. Taking a quick glance, you didn’t recognize the number. Figuring they realized their mis-dial, you went back to deciding which meat to leave thawed in the refrigerator and which to freeze. Exciting times.

It started to ring again. You turned away from the freezer to stare at the device sitting on the kitchen island. That same number appeared on the display. As the second ring rang out, you dared it to continue a third time. It did. You grabbed it with one hand, clicking the accept button with your other.

“Hello,” you answered.

“H-hi. This is Chris. I uh. This is Chris Evans.”

Tag list: @lakamaa12 @dontbetooobvious @straightforwardly @mariswritingforfun @imaginesofdreams @anat2507 @captnstarryeyed @chrisevansfanfic @capstopavenger @zofty15 @wemisshim3000 @panic-naran @crimeshowtrash @caramara3 @keithseabrook27 @syms-things-5 @thefandomzoneisdangerous @deidrashouseofpain @jennmurawski13 @craphole-7-male @punygodd @iguessweallcrazyithinktho @raulpetermendes @mrsevansthefirst @cevans21 @shay-rav @sweet--rabbit @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @christocrave @thatcrazymarvelfan @firefly-in-darkness @toews-a-peek @benedicttcumberbabe @fairlightswiftly @tanelle83 @pinknerdpanda @allaboutthebooz @estillion14 @panicfob @patzammit @heartislubbingdubbing @collinsstanharbour @twittytelly @linki-locks11 @ab-baybay @rda1989 @impalaimages @jesseswartzwelder @rainbowkisses31 @xostephanie @smoothdogsgirl @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @xxloki81xx @thenormreedus @firstangeldragonranch @soitmightgetweird @maeleeme @denisemarieangelina @rvgrsbrns @icanfeelastormbrewing @velvetwonderbucky @kitkat1690 @smilexcaptainx @suppu97 @dangerouslovefanfic @dwights-new-plague @kelbabyblue @sweetlittlegingy @chrisevansforever @evansxxx @twittytelly @southerngracela @bitterstar88 @squirrelnotsam @kitkatd7 @nea90sweetie @marvelislove10 @the-doctors-fallen-angel @flamencodiva

#Chris Evans #Chris Evans x reader #chris evans reader insert #When We Were Young #chris evans imagine #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x single!mother reader #cevans #rpf

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mirkwoodshewolf · 5 years ago

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The Prankster Queen is dethroned; SPN & Lucifer cast x teen reader

*Author’s note*

Well this was a LOOOOOONG time request from my Wattpad account but I finally got some motivation to write and finish this fic. Now I talked with the requestor about this and some changes were made, originally this was gonna involve Criminal minds cast but I had barely watched the show at the time so I talked with them and they agreed to have this be a SPN X LUCIFER cast crossover. So I hope you all enjoy this little fic and until the next update.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@platawnic

__________________________________________________________

“Okay guys; here we are back at the Supernatural set ready to start filming the 2nd half of season 14. Before I get into the special prank on Alex day I want to first send a very special thanks to the Lucifans for the #SaveLucifer and thank Netflix for renewing a season 4 and 5 of Lucifer. Yes I am a fan of that show as well. I mean I’ve got to my dad plays the famed Devil himself. No, no, no, no, no I’m joking. I watch the show because I really love what they did with it. The writing is phenomenal and the cast is super friendly. They’re like my second family next these guys here at Supernatural.”

I spoke through my Youtube channel streaming live. I could already see comments popping up along my livestream. Comments like ‘YASS LUCIFERXSPN SUPPORT’ or Winchester sister stans Lucifer.

“Yes I do thank you. Now for the moment you’ve all waited for. I’ve got the plastic wrap, the super glue, feathers, and fan. And of course the star of this prank on Alex, my baby boy Shadow.” I then presented my black German Shepherd who was lying on Alex’s trailer couch. “You ready to prank Alex boy?” he tilted his head to the side. “You ready to prank him?” he let out a bark and I cooed. “Good boy!” I flipped my camera back around and said. “Now Jared kindly set up the camera just a bit ago so I will transition to that in just a little while. For now I’m going to set up the door so please enjoy this fast forward montage of me getting the prank set up.”

I spread the super glue all around the plastic wrapping and tapped it across Alex’s trailer door so that when he would run right into it, he would get trapped with the plastic wrapping before I would attack with the pillow filled with feathers.

“Okay everything’s all set up. Now for the final touch, c’mon boy up on the bed.” He got off the couch and into Alex’s bed and just lay there at the foot of it. “Good boy.” I opened the trailer door and waited for Alex to come around. Once I saw him walking alongside Misha, I cried out. “ALEX! ALEX! SHADOW’S TAKING A SHIT ON YOUR BED!!”

“What!?”

“I’m not kidding I was walking him and he just ran in here and literally shit on your bed! Bad dog!”

“Shadow! Shadow! Damnit Shadow!” Alex then ran up and just like I hopped, he slammed right into the plastic wrap and fell right to the ground. I then pelted him with the pillow till his entire face was covered with feathers.

“BOOM SUCKA!!! That’ll teach you to eat my big cookie.” I told him.

“Okay maybe I deserved that.”

“Wow (y/n), all this for a cookie?” Misha said as he helped Alex back up on his feet.

“Misha you don’t understand. Those cookies were my mum’s special recipe. Plus she makes them so big that you can eat it in the space of a week. I was saving the last bit of it and then this guy decides it’s a good idea to eat the last of it.” I said pointing to Alex.

“You know….one of these days. We’re gonna get you back. Everyone that you’ve pranked, we’re gonna get you.” Alex spoke as he coughed out trying to get the feathers out of his mouth.

“The day that happens is the day J2(I/l) turns on each other. And the boys and I have been doing this for a long, long time.” I sassed as I snapped my finger and Shadow hopped off Alex’s bed and we left the trailer.

Little bit about myself; the names (Y/n) Ellis, the last name sound familiar? Yep you thought right. Tom Ellis aka Lucifer Morningstar is my father. He and I have been in the acting business together for a good amount of years. In fact he’s helped me when it came to running lines or dealing with the pressures of the acting life, especially since I started off as a child actor at the age of 5.

I had a few small roles, but when I was just 9 years old a role on a little show called Supernatural came knocking at my door. As a young British girl I was worried that I wouldn’t get it because this was an American tv show and I had to speak with an American accent. But thanks to a good dialect coach, and 2 test screenings with the boys to see if we were a fit, I got to play the role of Sarah Winchester, the younger half-sister of Sam and Dean who was cursed with witch powers.

But instead of killing her, Sam and Dean actually take her in and she uses her magic for good instead of evil. For years the Supernatural cast didn’t just become an ordinary job, it was like being home, we became a family. Jared and Jensen were like the big brothers I never had (even though they were around my dad’s age).

When things got too tough around set, J2 always found a way to make me smile and laugh. And as the years passed, Misha came on board followed by the 2 Marks, Ruth, Brianna and Kim, Osric, Rob and Richard, and now finally Alexander Calvert. The Supernatural family is a tight bond and we all send out a powerful message that Family don’t end in blood, and to Always Keep Fighting when things got bad.

Then when season 11 of my show was being filmed, my dad had gotten the role of Lucifer Morningstar in Fox’s new tv series “Lucifer” which was basically the story of the devil taking a vacation from Hell and he ends up working with the LAPD alongside a clever detective named Chloe Decker.

When Lucifer exploded every time I went to conventions, fans always ask me questions about potential crossovers or what I thought of the show. And truthfully I loved it. In fact whenever I would wrap on my time on a season, I took the hour and 45 minute drive where they filmed Lucifer and spend time with my dad and the Lucifer cast.

Lauren, Aimee and Lesley became my partners in crime when it came to the subtle pranks on the Luci cast or even my dad. Aimee and I are always making Instagram videos of each other acting like complete nutjobs, she’s like the older sister I’ve always wanted (since I am the eldest of my three sisters).

But that’s my life, and if you were to ask me if I could trade it away for anything else, I would tell you hell no (no pun intended).

After getting Shadow back into my trailer, I decided to see if my dad was willing to talk. I grabbed my I-Pad and went over to Facetime and clicked my dad’s name (of course I added the devil emoji beside his name). It rang about five times before I finally got an answer.

“There’s my little She-devil.” He answered with a smirk.

“Hey dad.” I said with a smile.

“Aimee saw your prank on that Alex chap.”

“She like it?”

“Mini Ellis you are a she-devil genius!” Aimee soon came into the frame. “You got to show me how that brilliant mind of yours works.”

“Guess I learned from two of the very best. I know exactly how to push buttons but not go overly extreme that it hurts someone’s soul. I’m not completely soulless like Jared is when it comes to pranks.”

“I still can’t believe he actually cut one of his credit cards. That’s super low.” She said.

“I know. I’ve been trying to get him to ease back and not go quite extreme. So far he hasn’t done it knock on wood.”

“Anyways you two, what brings on this call my dove?” my dad asked.

“Just wanted to call and see how you were doing. How’s season 4 coming along?”

“Great. Everything is great. Thanks to the Lucifans, and the Supernatural family.” My dad said.

“No sweat. You’re my dad. I’m still pissed that FOX could just cancel your show like that. And the way they would’ve ended it. God that’s literally the worst cliffhanger ever!”

“Tell me about it.” Aimee groaned.

“But it’s all fixed now. Netflix will take good care of us now. Plus we don’t have as much restrictions as FOX gave us.” My dad teased. I then heard a knock at my trailer door which made Shadow raise his head up from his bed and his attention turned toward the door.

“Hang on dad, who is it?!”

“It’s Jared! C’mon kiddo they need us on set now.”

“Alright I’ll be there in a minute.” I turned back to my dad and Aimee and my dad said to me.

“Go on, we’ll catch up later.”

“Alright dad. Give my love to the rest of the cast.”

“You already have my love mini Ellis.” Aimee said.

“Love you Aims!”

“Alright darling love you. Stay safe and have fun filming your next season.” The two of them blew me a kiss goodbye and I waved bye to them and the Facetime shut off. I put my phone aside and quickly refilled Shadow’s water bowl before I took off and raced towards the set.

Although unbeknownst to both Jared and Jensen something was waiting for them. As I walked in on the set I sat down at the spot where my character Sarah was to sit for this upcoming scene.

“Okay guys on cue marks. Cue lighting and roll sound.” I got into the mindset of Sarah and took the prop book in my hands as our director called out, “Okay cue Jensen and Jared. And…..action.” it was then Jensen came down the staircase while Jared came out from the back corridor.

“Hey, so any word from Jodie?” Jensen asked as Dean to Jared.

“No not yet. Hey Sar, any luck with the research?” Jared asked me as Sam.

“Not a damn thing. God even for a witch like me I still can’t figure out the spell to get us to that other place. I’m sorry guys I may be strong, but I’m not Rowena strong.”

“No, no it’s alright. It’s okay. We’ll……find another way.” Then Jared and Jensen took their seats before suddenly jolting upwards and letting out girlish screams of shock and pain.

“CUT!!!” our director called out.

“The hell was that!?!” Jensen proclaimed.

“Oh thank god I thought it was just me.” Jared sighed with relief. I kept my poker face up as I said to them.

“What happened just now?”

“Something shocked us. I don’t know what but whatever it was, it should never have shocked me back there. My butt does not deserve that kind of treatment!” he looked around the cushioned seat until he found some sort of electronic shock pad. It was slightly smaller than the cushioned pad and as soon as Jensen took hold of it and pressed a certain button, it caused another shock to run through his arm as he swore out loud and shake his arm.

“Uhh Jensen why would you do that?” I asked him.

“I don’t know I needed to see if it was real or not don’t judge me!”

“How the hell did these even get here?” asked Jared.

“No idea.” Jensen said. I covered my smile as I tried to act inconspicuous but that’s when the two of them looked at me. “You did this?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I said as I stood up and strutted out of the room sassily to run into Misha and I told him. “Your revenge plot has been successfully played out.”

“I knew I could count on you (n/n). Thanks.”

“No problem, but just know Misha all things come at a price with me. Pranking the kings don’t come without consequence.”

“I know, I know. But still I thank you for doing this for me. That’ll teach Jared to put old cheese in my pillow.” I patted his arm before leaving him to reset the scene again.

Weeks passed and filming continued on up until I was finally done with my scenes which meant that I was now allowed to travel on up to the Lucifer set and pop in and say hello. After bidding everyone goodbye until July, I got into the car and my driver Tommy drove me on up towards the studio where my dad and the rest of the Lucifer family were filming.

After finally arriving on the set, I saw Lauren and Aimee out and about with a Starbucks cup in their hands. As soon as they saw my car, they immediately waved. I rolled down my window and said.

“What up my Luci sistas!”

“Ahhh mini-Ellis!” Aimee proclaimed. Once the car stopped, I stepped out and I raced towards her and she met me in the middle as the two of us embraced each other tightly, rocking aggressively from side to side. “Where’s big Shadow? You usually bring him with you whenever you’re done with shooting.”

“Well for some reason Misha wanted to keep him around set. Guess he must’ve needed the fluffy protection from Jared and Jensen after the prank I pulled on them a few weeks back.”

“What’d you do to them?” asked Lauren.

“Just put a shock pad cushion underneath their chairs. Misha told me to do it to get back at Jared for putting old cheese in his pillow.”

“Wow those guys are relentless huh?” said Aimee.

“Yep. But enough of that now, let’s get going. I wanna watch you guys film some stuff.”

“Alright! C’mon kiddo let’s go.” Lauren wrapped her arm around me before playfully giving me a noogie while guiding me onwards to the set.

I greeted my Lucifer family like D.B, Kevin, Lesley-Ann, Rachael, and of course young Scarlett (ever since the show I officially adopted her as my younger sister).

“So, have you guys seen my dad anywhere?” I asked.

“Last we saw him he was leaving his trailer for costume and makeup.” Aimee said.

“Perfect.”

“What have you got in mind she-devil?” asked Lauren with a grin.

“Ohhh not much.” I grinned as I walked towards the costume and makeup trailers.

Once I got there, I had spotted my dad just getting out from the costume trailer in the full Lucifer suit. I grinned mischievously and slowly stalked towards him. This was something that I used to always do to him when I was a little girl, it’s been awhile but I hope I still got it. Like a tigress on the prowl I stalked behind my dad silent and carefully.

Whenever he turned around, I would hide behind anything I could whether it was the side of a trailer/tent, or even one of the many gold carts/motorbikes. Then when he would resume his walk, I trailed behind him once again. Closer and closer I got till finally I was within strike range.

The mighty huntress has cornered her prey.

I then trotted forward before leaping up but I was foiled when my dad turned around and managed to catch me and spin me around for a moment in his arms.

“Thought you’d sneak up on my again huh my little tigress? After all these years I finally caught you red handed.”

“Took you over 20 years but no time like the present eh?” my dad smirked down at me, the smirk that I had inherited from him, and said as he booped my nose.

“I just know when my daughter feels a little extra cheeky.” He bopped my nose as he said ‘cheeky’ which made me playfully stick my tongue out at him. “And put that tongue away young lady we are not a snake.”

“Wrong. Don’t you remember I got sorted into Slytherin when we went to Harry Potter world.”

“Yes I do recall that. But that’s still no excuse. Stick that tongue out at me again and I’ll give you a good whopping, do I make myself clear.”

“Yes father.” I submitted. He pecked my forehead before releasing me.

“So, you’ve finished with your filming?”

“Yep. Managed to wrap up a little early, at least for me.”

“Now I’ve been hearing a lot of rumors about you potentially branching off and getting your own spinoff series?”

“Well I don’t like to brag but it’s still a rumor. Not even I can confirm it. Besides, who knows if the CW will allow it. I mean don’t get me wrong the other two sub-series I didn’t agree with but Wayward Sisters, I would’ve LOVED to see that become something. Maybe have Sarah make a few surprise appearances.”

“Well, if the CW don’t allow it, maybe Netflix will. You never know. I could put in a good word for you.”

“Thanks dad.”

“Tom! Hey Tom! Susan needs you in makeup stat. You’re shooting in ten.” One of the make artists came racing up to us.

“Oh fu—sorry about that Johnny.” My dad wrapped an arm around my shoulders and the two of us walked towards the makeup trailer so that he could get ready.

After doing a quick touch up on my dad, the two of us left for the LAPD set and everyone was already running around getting to their marks or getting the cameras rolling. I sat right next to the director Sherwin as he was calling for cameras to focus and start rolling. Finally he called action and I got to sit and watch the new Netflix: Lucifer finally be filmed.

It was a long day of shooting and filming but it was a very productive day. I even got to learn about directing since (spoiler alert! I get to direct an episode this season of Supernatural!). I was currently right now sitting with my dad sipping a cup of tea.

“Now I know that one episode that witches have familiars. If Sarah were to have a familiar, which pet would she have and who would you want to play that familiar?” I hummed.

“Well. No offense to the women but most of the time when a new female comes on Supernatural she always ends up being a bitch. With the exception of Kim, Bri, Ruthie, Felica, and the rest of the Wayward sisters. So I’d have to say Sarah would want a male familiar. And yes while I do love dogs and would KILL to have Shadow actually be in front of the camera, I think she’d prefer a cat. Now for the actor to play him. Now don’t laugh but—this is my fantasy dream cast…..”

“Oh just get on with it will you little missy! Stop droning on!” my dad whined. I mimicked his whining before I finally admitted.

“Gwilym Lee okay!”

“The Welsh actor from that Midsomer murders series you used to watch?”

“Yeah, why not? I think he’d make a perfect cat familiar. Wise, loyal, good fighter. And—not that bad looking if I may say.”

“Alright down girl. I swear you and Aimee have been fawning over actors far too much.”

“Then you do not want to see me with the young Wayward sisters. We’re a lot worse. Plus it gets awkward when they start talking about you. Especially when it involves the Lucifer cast.”

“Oh my god.” He groaned.

“I know right!? It’s bad enough I hear from the fans about how much of a ‘thirsty dad’ you are. But now I have to hear it at work!” before my dad could say anything else, Lesley came running in with a worried look on her face. “Whoa Les, where’s the fire at?”

“You gotta call the Supernatural set (y/n).” she panted out.

“Why what’s going on?”

“I don’t know something about Shadow.” Without hesitation I took my phone out and dialed Misha’s number. It rang and rang and as it kept ringing I grumbled.

“C’mon Misha pick up your bloody phone already!”

‘Hello?’

“Misha what’s going on!? What happened to my son!?”

‘I’m sorry (y/n) Jared was eating some M&M’s earlier and he left the table for one second and the next thing he saw was Shadow eating the M&M’s he had managed to knock down on the floor!’

“WHAT!?!?!?!?”

‘Just come by over here, he’s been whimpering and we don’t know the contact information to the vet.’

“Okay I’ll be there as soon as I can. Try to make him as comfortable for me as possible. Okay! Tell him mummy’s on her way!”

‘Okay I will. And (y/n). Hurry!’ I hung up the phone and raced off.

“Whoa, whoa mini-Ellis where are you off too in such a hurry?” Kevin said as he and Aimee were walking back from the catering (after I had noticed the chocolate doughnut in Aimee’s hand).

“Shadow’s sick! Ate M&M’s. I gotta go!” I couldn’t even form a proper sentence as I raced outside and phoned my driver to hurry the fuck back to the set and drive me back to the Supernatural set.

Thankfully, he was right outside and the second I jumped right on in, I banged on the back window and ordered him to drive and soon he was off. Oh Shadow baby hang in there baby boy!

Finally after what felt like an eternity (I don’t know why the driver had taken the long way around. Said it was fucking traffic or something like that). But before the car could even come to a complete stop, I jumped out of the car and raced towards the building calling out Shadow’s name.

I quickly raced into the main Supernatural set to see that it was completely empty.

“Shadow!? Shadow! Here boy!” I whistled. Just hearing the way Misha had talked on the phone it made me really worried about my baby boy’s health. And now just not seeing him come on command when he’s supposed to, got me really anxious.

I walked further through the main set (which was the map room of the bunker) when I felt myself slightly trip forward and I looked down to see a tripwire. Oh shit.

SPLASH! I jumped as I let out a shriek when a small water balloon fell right at my feet. A split second later another dropped on the other side of me but still close enough to my feet. I jumped two more times as two more water balloons splashed right by me.

“Really guys? If you’re gonna do something like that at least have good aim.” But I was unaware of the enormous water balloon that was now starting to roll down. When I looked up, my heart sunk as I slowly let out a scream and soon I was drenched.

But it wasn’t water. Well normal water anyway, when I had looked at myself I had seen that I was now covered head to toe in the famed fake blood the makeup artists make from corn syrup, chocolate syrup and food coloring.

My breathing sharpened and I growled out.

“J2. Are without a doubt. The lowest most vile Americans to EVER WALK THE PLANET!!!” This was my favorite shirt and now the boys ruined it. Plus do you know how long it takes to get fake blood out of your hair? Believe me it’s not pretty. Hours upon hours of just brushing through one section of hair.

Soon enough the entire cast came out laughing and clapping but what was shocking was that the Lucifer cast also came out smiling and clapping along.

“We got you good kid!” Misha laughed.

“You—you all were……”

“About time we finally dethroned the Prank Queen. You’ve been stealing our thunder for too long kid.” Jensen said.

“And thanks to your dad and the rest of the Lucifer cast, they gave us the time to set all this up.” Jared said as he held his phone up probably recording the whole thing. I turned to my dad and hissed.

“Et tu Papa?”

“Sorry darling. They were convincing. Plus you’ve been going a little overboard with the pranks. You even placed a dead fish in my car.” Dad said.

“Or itching powder in my underwear drawer last year during season 3.” DW added.

“And hacking my Instagram professing love for the DCEU when you know I’m a Marvel girl.” Aimee said.

“And of course you can’t forget your recent little prank. The electric cushions.” Jared said.

“So we all came together and finally got you back.” Alex said smugly.

“How’s it feel now? You just got Carrie’d!” Lauren proclaimed.

“You all are so lucky I’m not a real witch or a telepath. Cause otherwise you’d all be screwed right now!” I spat out the fake blood that was starting to seep into my mouth. “But I’ll admit. Only I could come up with something like this. I’m impressed. Especially since it was a crossover team effort.”

Both castmates from each show came around me and that’s when all the selfies and self-promotion of dethroning the “Prank Queen” has officially happened. Of course I couldn’t help but chase after J2 as well as my dad so that I could smear the blood on them as payback for what they did to me.

Yep the life of an actress on Supernatural who happens to be the daughter of the current ‘hot’ Lucifer Morningstar, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. So while the entire cast and my family got their victory out of the way, I began plotting my next ultimate prank.

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