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bloodhoundsandplagues · 18 days ago

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⭐︎◦_✦ first snow

ellie williams x reader

Summary: it's the first proper snow of the year, and no, Ellie won't let you sleep in.

No use of Y/N, fem/gn reader (BECAUSE ELLIE LIKES WOMEN AND IM NOT INVALIDATING HER IDENTITY, SO NO MALE READER SORRY)

Warnings: profanity, not proofread as always, no spoilers for either games or the show. definitely a little ooc but i havent played the games for a few months. again kinda short :(

A/N: here it is !! i was gonna write this the other day, but my brain did a thing so i wrote some ass sam drake headcanons instead just to get SOMETHING out. sorry if this is badly written i just wanted to write something for ellie lol

also heads up i MIGHTMIGHTMIGHT do a similar thing for abby anderson idk yet but keep ur eyes peeled

“Wake up.” Those are the words that rouse you from your warm, comfortable sleep, at fuck-off o’clock in the morning on your day off. You groan and roll over, covering your eyes with your arms. You mumble something along the lines of what the fuck incoherently as you go, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

“Wake the fuck up.”

At this, you remove your arm and open your eyes. Your girlfriend is always the gentlest when it comes to waking you; gently caressing your face, kissing your forehead, whispering pet names. Never has she employed the word fuck when getting you out of bed.

“Ellie,” is all you manage to say, your voice hoarse and scratchy.

“It’s snowing.”

You turn slowly, and realise that she’s right- thick snowflakes are falling outside, turning the garden white and shiny. You sit up, rubbing your eyes and yawning.

“I see that,” you finally mumble when you’re done yawning. Ellie is looking at you expectantly, and you realise that she’s dressed in her jeans and green sweatshirt. You peek over the edge of the bed, and find that she’s even wearing her boots. Her coat has clearly been thrown onto the back of a chair, and is currently dripping onto the floor.

“Do you…”

“Yes,” she says, not even allowing you to finish your sentence. “Yes, I would like to go outside.” She’s grinning like a small child, and God knows you can’t reject a face like that.

“Okay,” you say. “Okay, yeah. Gimme a sec.” You wriggle out from under the covers, shivering as the cold hits you. Ellie is smiling so widely you worry that it must hurt; she watches as you get out of bed and open your drawers, pulling out some warm clothes. You hear her snort as you give the pits of the top you’re wearing a quick sniff and decide that it’s still wearable; you turn back to her and make a face.

As soon as you’re done putting on your boots, she’s grabbed your hand and she’s tugging you to the door. She’s somehow managed to put her coat on, and even helps you wind your scarf around your neck as she opens the door.

“Slow down,” you mutter, but you’re smiling at her. There’s something infectious about her excitement that makes you forget everything for a moment.

You see that there is already a lap of footprints around the garden. You’re pretty sure the culprit is the girl holding your hand, looking up excitedly at the sunrise. She takes you to the stables, and then insists that you both take the same horse. Eventually, you agree, clambering onto Shimmer behind her and winding your arms around her waist. She talks all the way to the gates, and you listen, chin resting on her shoulder. She tells you about the most recent book she’s read; an old pre-outbreak novel about a man stranded on Mars. She eventually goes quiet, though, admiring the falling snow as Shimmer steadily trots towards your destination. You shut your eyes for a moment, and she leans into you slightly. She’s humming softly, and you join in. It’s an old Christmas tune Maria likes to sing, which you two have picked up from the last time she cooked for you. You can’t remember the name, but you like it. You’re pretty sure Ellie does too.

“So,” you say finally when you’re both done humming. Your eyes are still closed, and you’re pretty close to dozing off.

“Yeah?” Ellie murmurs.

“Where we goin’?” You ask lightly, toying with a strand of her hair.

“Surprise,” she answers, her smile evident in her voice. “You’ll know when we get there.”

“Oh no,” you laugh, tightening your arms around her waist. “I hate surprises.”

“You’ll like this one,” she assures you.

“Is it…” you hesitate, suddenly slightly concerned. You’ve only brought your handgun with you; you don’t even know if Ellie has anything on her that isn’t her knife.

“Yeah,” she says, catching on to what you’re saying in a heartbeat. “We scouted it yesterday; it’s totally safe. Don’t worry.”

You two go on in silence for a while longer, listening to the soft whistling of the wind and the crunch of Shimmer’s hoofs in the snow. It’s so peaceful; a kind of peace that’s hard to find in this world, with raiders and infected around every corner. But right now, it’s just you and your girlfriend, and good luck to anything that tries to disturb this moment.

You don’t realise you’ve fallen asleep until Ellie wakes you with a gentle squeeze of your wrist. You stretch, and she helps you off Shimmer, gloved hand gripping yours. You realise she’s nervous; she’s gnawing on her bottom lip in that endearing way of hers, and she seems to be bouncing on the heels of her shoes. “C’mon,” she says as soon as you’re on your feet again. You smile at her and follow, boots crunching in the fresh snow. She’s stopped Shimmer behind a tall wall, the only remnant of a now lost building. You wonder briefly what it used to look like, but that thought is quickly erased from your mind when she takes you to the other side of the wall. You clasp a hand over your mouth and gasp. You are standing a few feet away from the edge of a cliff, overlooking the whole of Jackson. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen; the lights are twinkling soft and orange, the whole sky a bright pinkish red as the sun rises. The snow makes everything ten times brighter; it almost hurts your eyes to look. But the brightest thing of all is your girlfriend’s smile. She isn’t looking at the view; her gaze is locked on you, your reaction to what she is showing you. You turn to her, and without really thinking, grab the front of her jacket and kiss her. She kisses back immediately, her gloved hands coming up to cup your face and gently pulling you closer to her. The cold is forgotten to you; the only thing worth feeling is her mouth against yours. You’re both red when you pull away, gasping for air and giggling. She tilts her head, putting her arms around your waist and pulling you closer.

“It’s beautiful,” you say softly, reaching up and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Thank you, Ellie.”

She grins at you, leaning forwards and nudging your forehead with her nose. “Told you you’d like it,” she says cheekily, her mouth brushing your skin as she gloats. “Ass,” is your eloquent response. You laugh and turn back to the view, arms still around your girlfriend. “I can’t believe I’ve never been up here before.”

“We only found a path up to it on patrol last night,” she says. “It was Jesse’s idea to bring you up here.” You smile. Oh, Jesse, ever the romantic type.

“So,” you say, turning back to her. “What do you wanna do?”

“I don’t know. This is as far as my masterplan went,” she admits.

“Oh, you had a masterplan?”

“Oh, yeah. It was very well crafted.”

You laugh. “Oh, I’m sure it was.”

“It was!”

She’s laughing too now, swaying back and forth with you. You tilt your head to match her, and she kisses you again, pulling you close with a hand on the small of your back. You reciprocate more than happily, fingers tangling in her hair.

She kisses so softly- you remember the first time you ever kissed, you had expected it to be kind of rough, almost painful (although you wouldn’t have complained). But instead, she was so gentle, not doing anything that you might not have wanted, always pulling away at the slightest hesitation from you. To you, she really is perfect.

“Okay,” you say when she breaks from you, “wanna build a snowman?” She laughs, kisses you again. You laugh too.

“Yeah, let’s build a snowman,” she says after a moment of laughing and kissing. “Let’s build two snowmen. One each. Actually-“ her eyes twinkle mischievously- “best snowman wins.” “I wasn’t aware this was a competition,” you say, mock-offended. “Well, alright then. But be warned, I’m gonna kick your ass.” “Oh yeah?” She pulls away and almost sprints to a spot in the snow, already shovelling it into a little ball. “We’ll see about that.” You mimic her, crouching down and making a ball with the snow. You haven’t brought carrots or anything else of the sort to decorate the snowman, but neither of you care.

Very quickly, your snowman-making competition dissolves into giggling and half-hearted snowball throwing. You can’t even gather enough snow to make the second part of your snowman’s body; Ellie sits for what feels like twenty minutes laughing herself to tears at your attempt. Hers is not much better; it’s one crumbling ball with a big rock she found carefully balanced on top. At least you have the decency not to mock her, though.

“Asshole!” You shout- you don’t think she hears you through her fits of laughter. “I’m sorry!” She manages to say between gasps of breath. “It’s just- it’s just really not good!”

“Oh, fuck you!” You launch a snowball in her direction, your aim sloppy due to how hard you’re laughing. You miss her head, but the snowball hits her snowman’s ‘head’, causing it to drop off. Ellie gasps, clamping a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry,” you whisper in mock terror, raising your hands above your head. “I-“

She launches a snowball at you, and it hits you smack in the face. You gasp, almost falling backwards (luckily the two of you have moved away from the edge of the cliff, otherwise this would have a messy end). As you’re wiping the snow out of your eyes, she approaches, chortling to herself. “I think I won,” she declares when you stand, dusting off your clothes.

“Debatable,” you respond, crossing your arms. She’s grinning, her nose and ears red from the cold- you suspect you must be in a somewhat similar state.

She raises an eyebrow at your sorry attempt at a snowman. “No, I definitely won.” “Sure.” You laugh, mock-haughty. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“Oh, I will.” Her grin widens (if that’s even possible) and she tugs you closer by your scarf, her hand coming up to cup your face. You hardly feel the freezing cold of her wet glove as she kisses you again, and again, and again.

It’s almost noon when you two go back to Jackson. Your clothes are soaked through from all the snowball fights, your face red from all the kissing. You fall asleep again on the way back, your chin comfortable on Ellie’s shoulder, your heartbeat against her back. She talks, although she knows you’re dozing; tells you about her time alone with Joel, about her first few months in Jackson after the Firefly hospital. She tells you quietly about her immunity, which you already knew about; she even told you about her life before Joel, before she left FEDRA. You listen to it all, eyes closed, drifting between the horse you’re riding on and the girl you’re clinging on to and a dream world.

When you get home, the two of you shower and change back into warm, dry clothes. Ellie suggests going out again, but you are quick to refuse, already wrapped in blankets in bed. She laughs, then joins you, wrapping her arms around you and pressing her forehead to yours. “Love you,” you mumble. She gently traces the lines of your face with her finger, as if trying to memorise them (even though she knows she could never forget you). “Love you too,” comes her answer after a moment. She tugs you closer, planting a kiss on your forehead. “And for the record, I won the snowman competition.” You snort, your eyes shooting open again. “As if,” you quip. “Mine had a head. That’s one more than yours.” She nudges your cheek with her nose. “Therefore, I win.”

“Fuck you.” You laugh and kiss her nose. “Fine, you win.”

You hear a whispered yessss as you shut your eyes again, a wave of sleep washing over you. You’re yawning, almost asleep; you feel her snuggle closer to you, press another kiss to your forehead. Whisper another gentle I love you, potentially propose a rematch- the memories are getting foggy at this point. All you know as you drift off is that she is holding you, and she loves you, and by God do you love her too.

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keikakudom · 9 months ago

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Lemme try and make sense of Vox's mindset, and correct me if I get anything wrong?

I think Vox in RR!au hardly actually thinks about suicide. He's too much of a busy man to do that, after all! Thinking about death is for people with too much time on their hands, who don't have to deal with a billion problems on the daily. And sure, maybe it wouldn't be a terrible accident if he was locked out on extermination day one year (not that there's exterminations anymore), but he'll never bother to actively seek it -- why would he? He has things to do. Empires to run/build. Deals to make. Resorts to run, residents to settle, princesses to talk to.

Really, everything would be just fine and dandy, as long as progress is being made, nothing goes wrong at the resort, heaven doesn't come down for no good reason, and that deer freak manage to not bother him for a single day. All dandy!

So what if he's been going through business ventures like someone going through Doritos at the back of the car? It's difficult to stay on top, in Hell, and he can't rely on tech or media forever, not when they cycle faster and faster(and he would know, of course, his whole body is made of it). He's doing what it takes, and if it's risky, what business isn't?

And re: Alastor, vox may have once had feelings for him, but now it's probably soured into maybe wishing that Alastor would just fuck off somewhere where he'll never be heard from again. I think Vox knows very well from years of companionship that Alastor considers him a source of amusement and entertainment rather than an equal, and that hasn't truly changed even after he left, and in a way that has to bite? That Alastor cannot leave it alone, has to make his opinions and disdain clear to all of hell every single day, and also make it clear that vox cannot do anything to stop him (that tv still runs on radiowaves fundamentally, that he can't get rid of Alastor's influence).

Like the way I interpret canon!vox's feelings re:alastor has a lot more insecurity and the desire to show he's stronger now, he's over it, he doesn't need him, than just being rejected romantically, and in contrast RR!vox grinned and bore it longer without letting on, and then at some point just gave up, by which time his feelings have soured so far past insecurity and bitterness into straight up nihilism. (Doomed yaoi my fav)

Ok I'm just rambling now but yeah I think vox in RR!au is really really interesting? Bc he's y'know not in the best place but also he's fine. He's not, probably never, going to actively do anything, left to his own devices he's just going to keep at his daily routine and eventually self-destruct on his own hubris by taking on far more than he is capable of (people pleasing tendencies, hm?). But otherwise he's fine.

*drops my glass of milk* yea, this all. Checks out.

(that tv still runs on radiowaves fundamentally, that he can't get rid of Alastor's influence)

I think RR!Alastor is also chasing RR!Vox because he knows something is really wrong when Vox wants to cut something *fundamental to his functions* out from his life... If Alastor had any heat to his words, he could do some serious damage to Vox.

But Alastor was not able to reciprocate back then(or in general) the way Vox ever wanted him to. Alastor might think, "What's so wrong about being amusing to me? What's so wrong in being cared for that way?" But we know that Vox, even in canon, is pretty damn emotional. A confession was bound to happen, but since RR!Vox never did, he opt'd to shut them off. It started off with distractions, and those worked too well. Eventually he gave up trying to figure out his emotions and took the "easy" way out, nihilism--but like everything Vox dips his foot into, it's never enough. Only this time it's not only power(like I interpret canon!Vox to seek) that's growing/he's greedy for, it's this all-encompassing void.

Another interesting characterization to tack onto RR!AU Vox is his strong lack of self-preservation, I did mention it here when I had some thoughts on canon!Vox, but rather than "confidence", he does not care. And on occasion, he can go irrationally, batshit crazy for the same reason.

Let's set the stage in hmm, 1980s? He starts not to care about smaller allies, the people he stomps on, eating them up to become an overlord. Recruits Valentino, doesn't care that Val is immoral. At first it's "not his business", but it starts spreading. What is it that he's looking for? Power? Love? Entertainment? People to accept him?

Which is why RR!Vox decided to jump the gun a little bit and shoot for becoming a form of "GOD", aka the original reason for all his anguish in Hell(his religious roots as a human). It's kind of...an endpoint? It's not the most sane, or sensical route-- but he doesn't care that much. He's functioning on this tired/desensitized, pseudo-robotic, logical reasoning with a combo of "oh god I'm running out of interest"(in existing/running himself to the ground). So....hm, "fine" is a tragic word, indeed.

He's not, probably never, going to actively do anything, left to his own devices he's just going to keep at his daily routine and eventually self-destruct on his own hubris by taking on far more than he is capable of (people pleasing tendencies, hm?). But otherwise he's fine.

Welllll, he did always want to go out with a bang. If he did. I don't know, something really big. Like becoming God! Yeah.....That'd do it.

IMO, the premise of RR!AU isn't in stasis-- the reason Vox picked up this project in particular is an aggressive move. He's no longer distributing the same amount of work to the other Vees either anymore, so there is....some urgency, is what I like to think....

#au: reset resort #ask #flonautilus #oh goodness this is. depressing #i like to suspend belief and think #alastor knows this #is there anyone to latch onto a sliver of hope #is there even hope left #ooooo spooky #that atticwife ask has! not! left! my mind!#lmfao as you can tell.#i wish i had the same enthusiasm for my essays as i do with hypothetical vox #“hardly ever thinks about suicide” is not inaccurate to describe him #though I would say it's also like. an overarching thing in the background creeping behind him #*aggressively plays 'Nothing Left to Lose' again*#CHARLIE HELP HIM #Edit: >“nothing goes wrong at the resort”#I think.... errors or mistakes are things that get close to being the straw that break the camel's back #Like a big wrench thrown into the system thats's like #“OH SHIT” but suspends the workaholic mode just enough to. Think about it.

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