#ellie williams x reader series

[me-and-your-husband]

widow's bite (1) || e. williams

summary: "...the dangerous Black Widow is to be approached with caution, as the Black Widow's bite can cause death. she encases her victims with silk, then kills with poison from her fangs."

or

you're a black widow. you're sent to kill Spider-Woman. something inside of you just can't do it.

warnings: smut in future chapters, ellie is 18 and reader is 19, dreykov being gross which is canon, mentions of suicide attempt, canon death (sarah), swearing maybe? probs more, not proofread cause i'm lazy

word count: 4k

a/n: soooo i got this request and although it took FOREVER for me to write it, i was so excited that i just had to make it a series...i SWEARRR i'll try to update regularly but going back to uni is kicking my ass a little. also, ellie is basically mcu!peter. some of the avengers may make appearances. tony isn't dead.

You stood tall in front of the massive screen in his office. Videos of a girl in a red and black suit swinging through New York City illuminated your solemn features. At the top of the screen, there were only a few words: Spider-Woman: TERMINATE.

“She keeps coming so close to discovering our New York base,” Dreykov’s accent spread through the dark room. “I can’t have her getting in the way of my work. This is important.”

You nodded, eyes never leaving the screen.

“You will bring her body back to me. She seems to have some sort of abilities, abilities I can use to make you stronger. Better.” His thick hand slithered up your shoulder. “Do you copy?”

“I copy.”

His lips twisted into a sinister smile, his gross breath hot on your cheek. “Always so obedient.” He licked his lips.

He smiled, “You take off…” he glanced at his watch, “right now. I don’t want to see you again until she's dead,” he spat in your ear.

“Yes, sir.”

"Hey! Come back, mister criminal!”

Faint thwips filled the air as Ellie swung past corporate building after corporate building, chasing some burglar who happened to try robbing Delmar’s when she was ordering sandwiches for her and Joel. He would have to wait. She was just lucky she had her suit under her clothes.

He booked it down the sidewalk, cash flying out of the duffle bag, throwing pedestrians to the side as he tried escaping Spider-Woman.

She grunted as she dodged semi-trucks and cars, bikers and typical New York tourists. She almost lost sight of him when he turned a corner, but she could still hear his laboured breathing.

She could sense that he had stopped, under the impression that he had thrown her off his trail. He was resting in an alley up against an apartment building. Climbing to the roof, she perched herself on top as she looked down at him, hands on his knees as he panted.

“Hey, man, I think you forgot this!” She yelled as she dropped next to him. Before he could react, she cocooned him in webbing and left him stuck against the wall.

“You got a pen by any chance?” She asked, to which she had to dodge a ball of spit directed at her head. “Should've guessed.”

She pulled her calculus notebook out of her backpack with one of her good pens and scribbled a note on it:

“This is the one that robbed the bodega. I think you should cut old Delmar a tax break for his troubles.

Love,

Spider-Woman”

She called it into the station and webbed the note to the criminal, webbing his mouth shut too while she was at it.

As she walked out of the alley muttering “all in a day’s work”, she heard the faint pleas of a small child. Letting her heightened senses guide her, she swung until she found the source coming from an open window in a different apartment complex.

She slid the window open far enough to get inside, putting her hands out in front of her when the child noticed her and was frightened.

“No no no! Just your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Woman, not gonna hurt you! I promise,” she said, getting to the little girl's level. The girl’s eyes softened and she seemed to trust Ellie.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, lip trembling. “My sister…please help.”

“Okay, where is she now?”

The little girl pointed outside of her door, “The kitchen.”

Ellie took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m going to go help her. You stay right here, okay? Don’t move.”

Something inside of her told her that something was wrong. She brushes it off as someone else being in danger.

As she creeps out of the child’s room, she surveys her surroundings. It looked like a regular New York apartment, a little messy, but nothing her and Joel’s place hadn't seen. Everything was fine.

Until it wasn't.

She suddenly had difficulty breathing when you jumped from somewhere above and wrapped your legs around her neck, squeezing. You elbowed her head repeatedly.

She grabbed you by your hips and threw you off of her, gasping for breath. Her naivety still told her that you needed help.

Was it her naivety?

“Calm down, lady! I’m trying to help you!” she said, still gasping. She watched the girl scurry past her and over to you. “I thought I said—”

She stopped talking when she saw you hand the girl a twenty, eyes still trained on Spider-Woman.

Once you knew the child was a safe distance away, you attacked. His voice rang in the back of your head. No casualties. No witnesses.

You lunged at her, hands finding her throat.

“Woah, at least take me on a date first,” she remarked as she easily slid out of your grasp, jumping up to the ceiling and latching on. She webbed your left arm to the wall. You let out a grunt of dissatisfaction as you squeezed your fist, a blade coming out of your cuff and slicing through the web. It was installed in all of the Widows’ suits in case of capture.

“Oh. That's pretty cool, honestly,” she said as she dodged a bullet from your pistol, flipping down from the roof. You charged her again, this time taking out her legs and pinning to the ground. You threw a hook right at her jaw, to which she exclaimed “Ow!”, catching the next one with ease. Your eyes widened as she flipped the two of you over, pinning you underneath her.

“Look, I don't want to—”

Before she could finish, you had sent electric currents through your suit, effectively tazing her.

In her incapacitation, you were able to flip over again and pressure your knee against her neck. While she struggled for air, her legs flailed underneath her. She managed to knee you in the stomach, opening up an opportunity to throw you off her. You both stood up, ready to go at it again, both slightly out of breath.

“Are you gonna say something?” Silence. “Can you even talk?”

She lunged forward in an attempt to pull down the mask that covered half of your face, a piece of fabric resting atop the bridge of your nose. Before she could grab it, you grabbed her wrists, locating her web cartridges. You released another electric current, frying them.

She stepped back, trying to shoot webs, but to no avail. That's when she saw the text on the bicep of your suit: WIDOW-893. “Shit!”

You threw a swift kick into her abdomen while she was caught off guard and knocked her down to her knees. Her eyes widened as you threw punches at her face, too dazed to think of blocking. When she finally grabbed your fist, she could feel the blood from her nose leaking through her mask and could taste metal.

“You’re a Widow? Like Nat?”

You struggled to get your hand out of her grasp. Instead, you pushed all your weight forward and landed on top of her chest, pinning her arms.

You reached forward and slid your fingers under the fabric of her mask. She struggled underneath you, but you had her pinned and she wasn't going anywhere.

You basked in her struggle, slowly sliding the mask off her face.

“I was sent to kill you.”

“So you do talk. Wait—”

“And that's what I’m going to do.”

“Please don't take my mask off. Please. Please don't kill me. Oh god, I have so much to live for, please—!”

You slipped her mask off completely to be met with her perfectly curved and soft lips, her delicate green eyes, and her pretty freckles, her auburn hair messy from having it under the mask. Her brows furrowed and she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for it to happen. When it didn't, she slowly opened one eye, and then the other. She was met with you admiring her face, gaze raking over her features.

Your eyes were wide and seemed slightly glassy, and she couldn't help but wonder why they looked so distant. Why it looked like you were trapped behind them.

She realized you weren't pinning her down anymore. She loosened an arm slowly from underneath you and brought it up to the fabric around your face, gently beginning to tug the mask down.

Your cold grasp on her wrist stopped her. “Don't.”

“Why not?” She whispered.

You tore your gaze away from her, standing up. You turned your back to her.

Looking back at her once more, you said, “Because it will end badly."

You moved to leave through the window, but a thought stopped you briefly

The truth is, you didn't know what to do. It's like you had just gained free will, like she had broken some spell. You had thought you were operating on your own terms until now.

You'd been sent to take out powerful men, some women, usually old, usually established, usually somewhat corrupt. But when you saw the fear in the eyes of a girl your age, your body shocked you back into free will.

Your back still to the girl, you just shook your head and jumped.

She coughed as she pushed herself up off the ground and shoved the mask back down over her face, wondering if she'd ever see you again. If she'd ever find out who you really are.

“This is WIDOW-893,” you said into your comm-link, talking to an obscure agent you'd probably never meet. “I need an extraction. I’m sending you my location now.”

Static sounded in your ear before a harsh male voice began, “Has the mission been completed?”

You elected to ignore the question.

“Has the target been eliminated?”

More silence as you hunted for a place to lay low for a bit.

“Widow, has the target been eliminated?!” The agent’s frustration was palpable in his voice.

You swallowed. “Negative.”

“What do you mean, negative? This mission was of utmost— Sorry? Yes, sir.” Some keyboard clicks. “She can hear you now.”

“893, why wasn't your mission completed?” Dreykov’s invigorated voice droned through the comm. You searched for an excuse that wouldn't get you terminated. Or worse.

“The target seems to have heightened senses. She was able to get the jump on me before I was in position. My identity was almost discovered so I was forced to retreat.”

Dreykov let out a pained sigh. Slowly, he said, “I’m only going to tell you this once, agent, so listen very carefully. You are disposable. The mission must proceed, regardless of your comfort. We can easily terminate you and move on to the next Widow. Copy?”

“I copy.”

“Now, if this happens again, I will have you terminated. You get a pass this time because you're one of the…finer specimens we have. You will not be sent an extraction. You will complete this mission in terminating Spider-Woman. Do not make contact until then,” he said, and you could almost feel his hands slithering up your back and around your neck. “And don't think you're not being watched.”

With that, the connection was severed.

Ellie threw the soggy McDonald’s bag down on the kitchen table as Joel stood at the sink washing dishes.

“Couldn't get sandwiches from Delmar’s. Poor guy got robbed again,” she said as she began digging in the bag for her fries.

Joel turned around to give her a shocked look. “Someone’s gotta look out for the people in this city. Lord knows the cops ain’t doin' much,” he said, shaking his head.

“Well…Spider-Woman looks out for people,” Ellie said, tearing the waters. Joel never really sided with J. Jonah Jameson from that stupid news station, but he was never really for the “vigilante” either.

He sighed. “Look, Ellie…I know you think Spider-Woman is cool and all, and I think it's good that she looks out for the normal people of New York, but I think it's irresponsible. I mean, I’m sure she's got people in her life that love her and she’s puttin’ her life at risk seven days a week,” he said as he dried the dishes and put them away.

“Yeah but,” Ellie said through a mouthful of fries, “If you had that power, wouldn't you be responsible for using it for good?”

“Yes, I suppose. But with great power comes great responsibility, Ellie. And with responsibility comes an immense need for balance. Remember that,” he said, turning to look at her.

Ellie swallowed the last few fries as she took a moment to digest what Joel had said. She gave him a meaningful smile before he turned back around to put the last few dishes away.

She couldn't help but think about your “power”. Was it given to you, or forced on you? How did you become so skilled? You were her age, or at least not far off. She’d never met someone so close to her age who held such a huge responsibility. But was it really a responsibility if you were being forced into it?

She knew she'd probably never come across you again, so there wasn't really a reason to overthink it. Right now, she just wanted to finish her Physics homework and watch The Empire Strikes Back with Jesse.

Weeks had gone by and every moment plagued your mind with thoughts of Ellie. Or rather, if you had it in yourself to kill her.

Your immense training in Covert Ops was indeed handy for situations like these. You shadowed Ellie almost 24/7. You followed her on her commute to her high school, which you noted to be Midtown. You surveilled her through the cameras you'd planted in all of her classes. You followed her after school to the alley where she'd leave her school stuff and switch to her second life. You climbed from building to building as you followed her web-slinging as closely as possible without being seen. You searched and searched for something to justify it, something to prove she's a bad person and deserves to be terminated. But nothing. Nothing when she helped old ladies carry their groceries inside, or rescue little girls' cats from trees, or stop lecherous men from harassing women on the street. Especially nothing when you spied through her living room window and saw her laughing with her dad every Sunday morning.

Three weeks after your first attempt at termination, you had stumbled across the perfect moment to investigate your target’s bedroom. She was at a field trip to the Museum of Modern Art with her class, and her dad was at work.

Around noon, you whistled as you climbed the stairs to the apartment, smiling softly as you find the right one. You knock for good measure, and when nobody answers you slide two bobby pins out from your hair when to pick the lock. Classic, but it always works.

When you open the door you lock it again from the inside so nothing would seem astray. You feel an uncomfortable, throbbing pain in your chest as you look around at the framed portraits of your target and her dad, lots from when she was young. One of her holding a medal in a soccer jersey. One of them at a planetarium together. One of them with a model dinosaur in the background, a hat atop its head, both of them grinning.

You creep through the hallway, looking for one room in particular. Opening the first door, you enter an office space. You decide it might be useful in gathering intel on her family.

You slide open a drawer of the filing cabinet labelled “records”. There seemed to be two sections, one for her father’s business, and one for their personal records. The latter had significantly less material. You slid out the folders and placed them on the desk, taking a seat in the chair.

The first folder read: ADOPTION RECORDS

You skimmed the papers and deduced that about five years ago, a man named Joel Miller (presumably the target’s father) and a woman named adopted a girl named Ellie Williams, but had fostered her long before that with a woman named Theresa Servopoulos, the word “deceased” in brackets next to her name. Anna Williams, her single mother, died shortly after childbirth and a woman named Marlene took her in. However, Marlene gave her up to a foster home once she hit school age.

Another folder read: MEDICAL RECORDS

Ellie had a long history of optometry visits prior to about two years ago, then they just suddenly stopped. There was nothing else really interesting in her file.

Joel, however, was a different story. Medical records that yellowed and flaked at the edges sat in his file from over 20 years ago. He was admitted for a self inflicted GSW to the head shortly after the death of his daughter, Sarah Miller. He was admitted to a psychiatric ward by request of his brother, Tommy Miller, shortly after.

Another file read: ELLIE’S SCHOOL RECORDS

It was evident that Ellie had excelled in school ever since she had settled in with Joel, specifically in the math and science areas. Her transcripts highlighted a bright 4.0 gpa. She had a bright future.

Now with a name for your target, you decided to search her room to gain some more personal intel. Tucking the files away and closing the drawers, you stalked out of the office and down the hall to what was Ellie’s room (the words “Ellie’s Room!” scrawled on a banner on the door making it painfully easy).

The door creaked slightly when you pushed it open. You were immediately hit with the vague sent of pine and mahogany. Dirty flannels and socks were piled in a corner or sometimes littered around the room. An empty ramen cup sat on her nightstand. Notebooks and textbooks filled with complex calculations sat open on her book. Her blankets were peeled back, revealing astronaut bedsheets. “Cute,” you thought.

The cracked open window let in a nice breeze. The light blue walls were littered in posters, photos, and banners. Next to a lesbian flag above her bed were photos of her and the two friends she was always with. Plastered around her room were covers of comics, something called Savage Starlight. There were silly math reference posters, Star Wars posters, and just about everything you would never expect from a crime fighting vigilante.

Her laptop was left open, and a few clicks and an easy password guess later, the screen unlocked to Ellie’s web browser. Her search history made your brows furrow. You expected to find “How to buy weed NYC” or “porn” at the very least.

Search: Is there more than one Black Widow?

Search: Natasha Romanoff history

Search: The Red Room

Search: Dreykov The Red Room

Search: Dreykov Russia

Search: Black Widow Assassins

Search: Natasha Romanoff Phone Number

She had been researching you. Hell, she hadn't done a very good job by the looks of it. And did she really think The Black Widow’s phone number was public information?

You grabbed a figurine from Ellie’s desk and toyed with it as you took a moment to think. Was it really worth taking the life of an innocent girl just for the sustenance of your organization? Was it even your organization? It's not like you could remember how you got there. It's not like you remembered your family, or your friends, or what it was like to have them… It wasn't so bad if you didn't really have anything to compare it to, right?

A soft pressure around your ankles made you look down. Silky webbing coated your boots.

“Sit down,” her voice came from near the window. You turned as much of your body as you could and watched as Ellie gestured to her desk chair. With no choice but to oblige, you sat. She webbed your arms to the armrests, not taking any chances.

She spun the chair to face her direction and then leaned back against the window.

“What do you want with me?” She inquired, green eyes searing into yours.

“I told you. My mission is to-”

“No. If you were going to kill me, I’d be dead already.” Good point.

You broke eye contact and looked around her room dramatically. “Cute room. I like the flag.”

“Tell me what you want with me,” she said, stalking closer to your chair. “I’m not asking this time.”

“What happened to the ‘friendly neighbourhood Spider-Woman’ I met? Do you rest all your guests like this?” You quipped.

“Yeah? Well, forgive me if I’m not so friendly to the one who tried to kill me, has been stalking me for weeks, and broke into my apartment.”

You roll your eyes.

Her large hand wraps around your jaw, forcing you to look in her eyes.

“Roll your eyes one more time and see what happens,” she growls. “Now tell me.”

You jerk your jaw away and kick her in the stomach, enough time for you to effectively sever the webs around your wrists and ankles.

“Fuck, I forgot about those,” Ellie says under her breath as she webs her bedroom door completely shut and stands in front of the window to block your exit.

“Move,” you demand.

“Nope.”

“Move. Or this won't end well for either of us.”

“Nah, I think I’ll just stay right here ‘till you tell me what you want with me.”

You charged her, attempting to throw her to the side and leap through the window she entered through, but she's stronger. She's like brick as she pushes you back.

“Just let me go. I’ve made up my mind anyways. I’m done with you.”

“No can do. I’m not in the habit of letting pretty girls who try to kill me go so easily,” she said, and you felt your cheeks heating up. She webbed the window shut and sat down in her bed, gesturing to her desk chair again. “Come on. I just want to know what your people want with me. Then you can go, I promise.”

You knew it wouldn't hurt to tell her. You'd have to go on the run from Dreykov anyways. Rip your tracker out and all. So you sat and watched as she reached into a drawer in her nightstand and pulled out a pack of peanut M&Ms.

“Want some?” She asked as she peeled it open. You shook your head and she shrugged. “More for me, then.”

“What do you want to know?” You asked.

“Start from the beginning.”

You cleared your throat. “I was given the mission to find you and-”

“No. I get that part, I’m not stupid. I want to know how this happened to you. And how I can help you out of it."

permanent tags:

@winters-fairy @idkwhattonamethisblogs

ellie taglist:

@chrry1ovr @milly-louise @dankpunks @starhrtz @pedrobaby @urlocalgingersnap @wrendermedone @kissyslut @felsweb @darleneslane

a slash thru your user means i'm unable to tag you!

taglists

[millersfinest]

untethered | e.w

00s!ellie williams & 00s!miller!reader

wc: 7.4k

series: chapter one (you’re here!), chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five

blurb: it’s been awhile since you’ve been back home; in upstate new york where you’ve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that moo’d and meh’d. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinner—a troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.

cw: lmao flip phones, some vulgar language, ellie cheating on her gf (kind of), the millers, r is a writer, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, some physical violence, adopted kid trauma (shoutout to all the adopted kids!!), hella angst, repressed emotions, a little bit of mature content, eventual smut.

note: i have too much confidence writing for ellie. but here’s another series im starting because i realized the plot is too much for a single work on here, hence the 7 thousand words ijbol. hope you guys enjoyyy.

It was quieter upstate. Breathable and airy—you missed it more than anything. As much as you loved living in Manhattan, there was nothing like the countryside. Waking up to the sound of birds chirping and roosters crowing. Hearing the excited neighing from the horses you birthed and took care of. It was refreshing to be home again.

And, of course, you missed your parents.

They adopted you as a troubled child, and you’ve considered yourself lucky ever since. Babies and younger children were often the ones to be pulled from inconsistent foster homes, but they chose you. A pierced, attitude-ridden, thirteen-year-old who liked smoking cigarettes because they made you look cooler than you felt. And it helped you cope with the lasting effects of neglectful parents.

That trauma didn’t just disappear once Tommy and Maria entered your life. It was something that grew from nothing, and they were adamant in making your transition as comfortable as possible. You never experienced anything like it before them. Their strictness and structure did the opposite of what most would think. You went from sneaking out and smoking cigarettes to staying up late studying and finishing your favorite novels—still smoking cigarettes, though, but out your window. It was hard habit to break.

Once you realized that they could be trusted and had your best interest at heart, you gave them the right to parent you. Sure, it wasn’t easy. The three of you argued many, many times—but you respected them more than you have anyone else. Really, just for tolerating you.

The Miller’s were always very family oriented and social. Sunday nights always managed to be a grand event—Tommy grilling in the acred backyard, Maria handling the food items that could be cooked inside, and you diligently decorating and setting the table. Football Sundays were always the worst, but they were great memories to think about. That was the first time you met, basically, the love of your life at the time. Ellie Williams.

It was 1995 when you had completely fallen in love with her—only knowing her for around three years. Joel Miller wasn’t really her father, or adoptive father, he was just somebody who took care of her. He owned a guitar shop that sold, obviously, guitars and other instruments alike; as well as holding lessons for those wanted to learn how to play.

The story goes: Joel was working the register on a very slow day when Ellie showed up. There was a shiner on her eye, but she insisted that she was fine—asking for lessons with crumbled cash and dirty coins. She couldn’t afford the lessons on her own, so he gave her a job and proceeded with teaching her how to play.

She grew up similar to you; hidden under the confines of foster care. The only difference was, she was never adopted. At least not until the age of seventeen, when she’d spent so much time with Joel that she had a decorated bedroom in his house. They both had commitment issues, but after Tommy convinced him to do the paperwork… He did. Surprising her on her seventeenth birthday. However, the outcome didn’t really go to plan. Not how anyone would have expected it.

It was 1997 when she completely broke your heart… Not to be cheesy or anything.

Her seventeenth birthday was hosted at your house, on the farm. You knew her the most out of everyone, so you made it your mission to make this the best birthday ever. Decorating had become a hobby of yours after so many Sunday dinners—you spent all day stringing up lights and colorful streamers. Maria helping you out with a homemade cake that said: Happy Birthday Els! You were too anxious to write the words yourself, so you let her do it instead. You were even sure to invite the friends you shared; demanding they each brought presents to show how much they cared about her.

Joel had showed up before she did; just in time so they could all hide and jump out with big smiles on your faces when Ellie arrived. You would always remember the feeling of hearing the rumbling of her truck coming to a stop. And the shy smile on her face when everyone jumped out from behind furniture—blowing birthday kazoo’s. It was picturesque!

Dina had trotted over to her, snapping a blue paper cone birthday hat over her head. While you walked over with her birthday cake in your hands, brightened with seventeen candles. “Happy seventeenth, Ellie.” You had spoken, warmly. A bashful grin spreading onto your lips. She looked at you with such awe in that moment. Blowing out her candles and kissing your cheek, muttering a blushing ‘I fuckin’ love you’.

You knew about her surprise adoption papers before the party had started, excitement running through your veins when Joel meandered toward her—handing her an envelope of hope. Ellie took it, eyeing him, skeptically. “Open it!” You urged—that was your mistake.

Chortling, she broke open the envelope, not caring if it tore. When she pulled out the certificate, reading the words on the page, her entire face dropped. “Adoption papers?” Her eyes squinted in disgust, glaring at Joel. The smile fell from your face, lips parting in slight shock. Her olive eyes glanced around the room, seeing the fallen expressions clouding everyone’s features. Landing on your fallen face, briefly—a look exclaiming, ‘how could you’. Freckled cheeks heating up in embarrassment and… Anger. “Joel, what the fuck?” She blinked at him, shoving the papers into his chest, then storming out of the house. Hands ripping the hat from the top of head, throwing it to the ground. The screen door creaking obnoxiously as she exited. It all happened so fast.

He quickly followed her out, calling for her, desperately.

Awkwardly, you turned to the frozen people around you. “Anybody want cake? It’s german c— chocolate.” You stammered, trying to keep your composure. Looking to Maria and Tommy for some sort of consolation, you frowned, placing the cake on the counter before fleeing to the bathroom.

You clenched at the roots of your hair, pacing around the bathroom. You could hear remnants of a solo screaming match from outside the bathroom window, causing you to grit your teeth. The papers were supposed to be a good thing! Ellie had always been a hothead—easily agitated like a stray kitten is distress. There were even moments where the two of you went at it. Until one of you caved, begging for affection as an apology. Your nerves burned at the idea of her not liking the surprise—was that selfish?

Instead of remaining in the bathroom, you swung open the door with your eyes fixed on the front door. Hands clenched at your sides, you walked through the kitchen, where Tommy tried to liven up the mood by handing out pieces of cake.

He tried calling your name, but you brushed him off, pushing open the screen door with an attitude that could be felt with every step you took. The brisk autumn air hit your exposed skin, the long-sleeve striped shirt not doing much to keep you warm.

Striding around the side of the house, you seen Joel and Ellie having a stern conversation. But by the time your eyes landed on them, they were in a beat of silence. Joel shaking his head with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Ellie had her arms stubbornly crossed, frowning. When her eyes found yours, he turned around to leave. “She’s all yours…” He solemnly sighed, walking back into the house. The adoption papers crumbled up in his hands.

Biting your bottom lip, you approached her with your arms crossed for warmth. “What happened, Ellie?” Your voice dragged, tiredly. There was something always wrong with her. “We just wanted to do something nice for you… Why’d you have to go and ruin it—?”

“Oh, I’m the one who ruined it?” She scoffed, a sneer resting on her lips. “I’m not the one who brought the fucking adoption papers!” Ellie exclaimed, gesturing broadly with her hands. When she was up in arms, she always gesticulated more. “Did you have anything to do with this? Because if you did—“

You interrupted her with scrutinizing glare. “So, what if I did? I thought this would make you happy, Ellie… Don’t you understand?”

“You had me open that in front of everyone knowing what was inside— and you thought that’d make me happy?” Her lips arched in disgust. “Clearly, you don’t know me at all.” Her words were venomous, lips twitching in anger.

There was nobody who understood you more than Ellie, and vice versa. You just got each other because you came from similar backgrounds—that was your glue. You don’t know me at all. That was new.

With your eyes growing warm with tears, your tongue rolled in your mouth. “I spent all day setting this up… For you. Because I love you, Ellie. I don’t know you— that’s bullshit if I ever heard it.” Your voice cracked, but you refused to let a tear run down your cheek. This was no time for tears—if she could get angry, so could you.

“I’ve known you long enough to have some semblance of understanding on why you’re upset, right now— that’s for damn sure.” You paused, averting your eyes to concentrate on keeping your rising emotions at bay. She watched you, cheeks still red with anger. “I’m gonna give you ten minutes— ten, Ellie! If you don’t get your ass back in there in next ten fucking minutes…” You lick your lips, shaking your head. “We’re over. Done!”

Giving a final glare, you turned to head back inside. “I can’t keep dealing with this shit.” You mutter, under your breath.

“So that’s what it is… Dealing with me?” Ellie voiced, a sliver of disappointment slipping in her moment of anger.

Wiping your cheeks, you peered over your shoulder. “What?”

“You got this perfect little life… Huh?” She began, approaching you intimidatingly. “The loving parents, the farmhouse— you became the perfect daughter for them… Gets the grades, does everything she can to appease them. This fuckin’ fantasy world that you chose to live in all because you wanted someone to love you… Fuckin’ pathetic.”

“Ellie…” You warned.

“Well, newsflash, little-miss-perfect— not everybody wants that! Not everybody wants to play pretend for the rest of their fucking life just to be—“

It happened before you could stop it, fists clenching at your sides as she bad mouthed you till oblivion. Your soft spot—and she knew all about that. Both of you grew up as kids who got into fights and disputes more times than anyone could count; you just decided to clean up your act. However, that troubled twelve to thirteen-year-old still resided inside of you. And, in that moment, she wasn’t your doting girlfriend—she was someone punching down on you.

Your knuckles collided with the side of her face, knocking into her cheek bone. Features scowling as if she were a stranger. Ellie stumbled, holding onto her face with surprised eyes. For a second the version of her you loved came through, but she quickly recovered. Her lips curling at the ends, taunting you. “I knew you still had it in you… You’re no better than me.”

There it was.

Not only was it the straw that broke the camels back—it was the truth. The ultimate truth. Behind all of your petty little arguments. Behind all her wild bursts of anger. She was jealous of you. Grunting behind your teeth, you charged at her. Taking the collar of her jacket as her back hit the gravelly ground. Straddling her, you didn’t hear the rushing feet hitting the porch. You could feel her hands settling loosely on your calves, only angering you more. “I did the fucking work— nobody else but me!” Tears poured down your cheeks. “I am better than you. Because I fucking try—“

Arms pulled you off her body, wrapping around your abdomen. It was Tommy, questioning you in your ear, but you weren’t listening. “Everything went to shit because of you! Remember that!” Dina and Jesse rushed to her side, but she only sat up watching you get pulled back inside. They glared at your forced retreat—they were always more friends with her than they were with you.

Tommy released you, with a disappointed sigh. Maria walking inside, shutting the door behind her, frowning. You heaved, looking at all the decorations that mocked you. Sparkling and shining against the dim lights in the room. The barely eaten cake sat on the counter in the kitchen making fun of you—it was all too much.

“What the hell has gotten into you, y/n?!” Maria pointedly, asked. Not really wanting a response.

“What’s gotten into me?! What’s gotten into her—!” You pointed to the door as if she replaced it.

The blond man leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter, bending at his hips. “Well, I don’t think it matters what’s gotten into her if you put your hands on her, Bug.” Tommy spoke, evenly. He was always the calmer of the two. “Did you… Did you put your hands on her?”

Maria stood with her hands on her hips. “What did we say about fighting—? And you don’t hit your girlfriend— you don’t hit the people that you care about!” She scolded, pointing her finger. “We raised you better than that…”

Your lips quivered, guilt setting in. “I didn’t mean to hit her! She wanted— she wanted me to… I swear!”

He glanced at his wife. “She wanted you to hit her?” Tommy deadpanned, pressing his lips into a line.

They both looked at you with separate expressions. Maria clearly overwhelmed with disappointment and utter disbelief. The same look she gave you when she caught you smoking cigarettes at the barn when you were fourteen—when you told her you quit. Tommy had an expression of pity, like he often did. That same look he gave when you had a meltdown at school when you first moved in with them.

More tears began to roll down your cheeks. “Maria… Tommy… She pushed me. Why would she do that? Why would she—“ You began to ramble, knees growing weak. Your strict mother-figure rushed to your side, catching you before you fell. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to— she was just being so mean.”

Sinking to the floor with you, her hands caressed your hair. Maria looked to Tommy, mouthing for him to go check on Ellie.

Outside, Ellie was dismissing the weary questions from her friends. She’d never seen you act in such an unruly way. Every time she came over, there wasn’t a hair that was out of place on your head. She was always the one acting out, swearing like a sailor. Sure, she knew about your smoking habit, but that was nothing.

Your girlfriend was envious of how everything was panning out for you—college was around the corner. You had an acceptance letter from your dream school, and without a doubt, you were leaving for the city. Leaving her behind to rot in the country. It wasn’t fair!

That adoption letter felt like pity. She wasn’t a fan of that feeling either.

As a bruise formed on her cheek, guilt settled into the pit of her stomach. Ellie had every intention on seeing the side of you that everyone talked about with a past tense that indicated warning. She needed to prove to herself that you weren’t the perfect person she saw you to be—but all that was left behind was remorse and a sore cheek.

She watched as Joel and Tommy stepped aside to talk. Their eyes glancing back and forth between the door and Ellie, as she leaned against her rusted red truck.

“I can’t believe she would do something like that… On your birthday?” Dina shook her head, with her arms crossed.

“It’s not like her…” Jesse narrowed his eyes at the auburn-haired girl. “What’d you do?”

Dina smacked his chest. “Jessie! She’s literally the victim here— domestic abuse!”

He sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes. “I’m not saying what she did was right.” Jessie began. “I’m saying that I know Ellie Williams, and I know how she is— she’s a pusher.”

The bruised seventeen-year-old scoffed.

“Yeah, I said it.” He stood tall, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You’re a pusher. Hell, you’re a professional pusher— you push people for a fucking living.” Dina glared at him, threatening to hit him again. “I mean, there was that one time… When we went into the city for that comic convention, and you completely obliterated Joel for worrying about you—“

The dark-haired, freckled teenager pushed her boyfriend out of the way taking his place. “We don’t have to relive that…”

Ellie rolled her tongue in her mouth. “Look, I know this is my fault…”

“Ellie… You’re the one with the bruise forming on your face.” She reached up, rubbing her cheek. Her wincing under her touch.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, squeezing her red eyes. “Yeah, and if it weren’t for me— for what I said… I wouldn’t have this fuckin’ bruise.” Ellie peered at where Joel and Tommy were speaking. They were wrapping up, giving brotherly hugs. “I am a pusher… And now my girlfriend hates me.” She pouted, tears welling up in her eyes. The blond Miller waved a hand at her, giving a tight-lipped smile that screamed I’m sorry. “I gotta go…” She pulled her keys from her pocket, getting into her truck.

That was the last full conversation the two of you had. Horrible, but the last. Everything in between then and the present was short and empty. Light conversations that only strangers and acquaintances shared. Letters here and there. It was a dispute that was so nuanced, for the first year after that, Joel barely said a word to you. Which bled into his relationship with Tommy. Maria tried to play middleman, but it didn’t work.

Perhaps, that was the reason you kept your distance. You didn’t want to continue to be the wedge that formed between two brothers. While you loved your parents, they were only a phone-call away. And, in the meantime, you could focus on growing in your career. Focusing on your book writing, instead.

You just wanted to forget about what happened when you were an emotionally undeveloped seventeen-year-old, but every time you seen her face—you remembered. So, avoiding Ellie Williams was a mission within itself.

A mission you were hoping you weren’t going to have to endure this year.

“You know,” Tommy began, sipping his fresh coffee. “Joel’s coming down from Jersey for the week.”

As you looked through the fridge, you snapped your head in his direction. “Is he now…?” You slowly question. Letting the fridge door shut on its own. The blonde woman to his right, sitting at the island counter, chuckled. Flipping through the interior design magazine you brought for her.

“And he’s picking up Ellie from the city.”

“What!” You exclaim, rushing to the opposite side of the counter. Pulling the mug from his lips, a surprised squeak left your throat. “Uh, dad… You forgot to mention on the several phone calls that we had in that last month that Ellie moved to the city.”

Maria perked up, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, she’s been there for about a year now… Brooklyn, is it?” She looked to her husband for clarification. He nodded, peering up at you with a plain expression.

“A year?! And none of you told me?”

“Bug, you did say that you didn’t want us to bring her up anymore unless you asked.” Maria stood to her feet, meandering to the stove and oven. “But that does remind me… They should be here in a few hours. Wanna help with the brownies?” She preheated the oven, walking around you casually.

Your mouth fell open, glancing between the two of them. “Okay, so they get brownies, and I get the worst news of my life…” An apron with your nickname embroidered on the front, Bug, hung in your mother's hand as an offering. “Yes, I’ll help with the brownies— this is very cruel to your very successful daughter.”

Tommy waved his hand, dismissively. “C’mon, that incident happened years ago now. You’re twenty-five, I’m sure she’s gotten over it.”

Tying the string around your neck and back, you pressed your lips into a line. It wasn’t really about her—you weren’t over it. You still harbored the same guilt you felt when you settled in your room that night. A crazy mixture of resentment and remorse all rolled up into one feeling; as you settled in your reading nook, with your hand out the window holding a burning cigarette with your index and middle finger. “I’m sure she has…”

Eventually, you switched the conversation around while baking. Falling into fits of laughter from mentioning past stories of your teenagehood. Teaming up with Maria to make fun of Tommy and his aging—all of a sudden, he was beginning to have a knack for playing a checkers. Only old people enjoyed playing checkers. Then, the waiting began.

To busy yourself, you pulled out your computer and brought it to the porch. Even though, you were taking some time off at your publishing job; when it came to your book writing, you had an agent to keep flooding your inbox with emails. Telling you to do this and do that—it was obnoxious. But you did as she asked anyway.

Typing away, a puff of nicotine fled from your lips. Murmuring under your breath, the words that were populating on the screen. On your hip, your phone rang, causing you to throw your head back in slight agony. Something always interrupted you when you were flowing. Flipping open your phone, the decorative chain swinging around as you placed it against your ear. “Hello,” You spoke, stubbing out your cigarette.

It was your roommate and closest friend, Sierra, complaining about the neighbors. Her strong long island accent echoing through the phone. “Oh, my God— they’re so loud! You’d think gettin’ an apartment in a nicer building would thicken the walls.” She groaned on the other end. “Please, come back. At least to tell them to shut up, and then you could go back upstate.”

“Why don’t you… I don’t know…” You shut your laptop, replacing your butt with the boxy electronic. Strolling to the far end of the porch, leaning your arms against the bannister. “Tell them yourself?” An amused smile spread on your lips.

Sierra paused. “Because that’s your job. I’m the nice one, remember?”

“Okay, well I can’t leave. I just got here, and I’m not spending another grand on taxi fare.”

“I’ll spot you.” You could hear her smile on the end.

“Sierra, I’m not coming back until Saturday. So, your only options are to either bang on their door— telling them to shut the hell up— or you suffer listening to their relentless daytime sex.” As you spoke, a truck began rolling up the driveway. Identities unclear due to the intense window tint, but you knew exactly who it was. However, there were three heads in that truck.

She groaned on the other end of the line. “Ugh! I hate you—“

“You love me!” You grinned, but it dropped right off your face when the people exited the vehicle. From the driver's seat, it was Ellie; then, it was Joel who exited, seemingly in conversation. And, finally, a girl stepped out of the vehicle. Joel noticed you leaning against the bannister on the porch, waving his hand with a smile.

Your muscles reacted, waving a fleeting hand. “Maria, Tommy! They’re here!” You yell loud enough to be heard through the screen door. You were always insecure about calling them by their parental titles in front of people—let alone new people.

“You’re yelling in my ear, hon. If you gotta go just tell me.” Sierra complained.

“I gotta go.”

Before she could say her goodbyes, you shut your phone, sliding it into your back pocket. Your parents came out of the house in high spirits; Maria clapping her hands, excitedly, embracing Ellie. Tommy giving a firm bear hug to Joel, laughing heartily—at what? You were unsure.

Awkwardly, you stood there. Smiling with your hands held in front of your body as if you were presenting a project.

Joel looked to you, approaching you with open arms. “Look at you,” He began, wrapping his arms around you, warmly. “All grown up.” He pulled back to get a better look at you, nodding proudly.

“Yeah…” You tapped his shoulder. “You, too.” A chuckle fell from your lips.

Then, you looked to your right at the freckled girl with her arm around a feminine stranger. However, you couldn’t indentify her before you did Ellie. Her auburn hair was pulled into a low bun, with pieces framing her gentle features. Her round evergreen, tinted with slivers of brown, eyes. Freckles decorating her cheeks, bridge of her nose; the beauty mark under left eye—

“Hey,” Ellie drawled out the greeting, awkwardly. Leaning in for a hug that teetered back and forth until you reciprocated.

You kept that same plastered smile on your lips, wrapping your arm under hers. “Hey, Ellie.” Pulling back, you finally looked at the girl beside her. She had tattoos and piercings and looked so much cooler than you. “Who’s this?”

Her earthy eyes widened. “Oh, this is, uhm, my girlfriend, Cat.”

The only response you could give was a nod and a half-hearted wave. It was like a dramatic record scratch in your head. But your parents took over with the rest. Guiding everyone inside to the warmth. Tommy remained outside, giving you skeptical eyes. “Help me with the bags…”

“Honey, don’t be weird about this.” He spoke, as you followed him to the truck.

“I’m not being weird.” You whined, gravel crunching under your feet. “Seriously, what’s to be weird about?” Reaching into the open trunk, you pulled out luggage’s and duffle bags. This was a lot of stuff for a week stay—they brought more than you did.

He gruffly breathed, pulling up the handle of one of the suitcases. “You’re my daughter, I know you— just sayin’…”

“Oh, my God— please!” You complained, hooking the duffle over your shoulder, pulling one of the luggage’s. Leaving him to follow you toward the porch.

Dinner had come quicker than you had hoped. If anything, if you could magically skip over the thing, and still eat, that would’ve been perfect.

All six of you sat at the dining table, forks and knives scratching at ceramic plates. Tommy and Joel had gathered in the back, last minute to cook up some steaks. And, to busy yourself, you helped Maria with the sides while Ellie and Cat got situated in the guest house.

“So, y/n, how’s the book comin’ along?” Joel wondered, putting a cut piece of steak into his mouth.

You made a surprised sound as you chewed your food, rushing to swallow. “Shit, you’re writing a book?” Ellie questioned, leaning her elbows on the table.

Taking a sip of water, you decided to respond. “Yeah, I’ve been working on it for a while.” Your eyes glanced at her, then moved on, quickly, to Joel’s. “It’s… Coming along.” A bashful laugh fell from your lips, as your hand reached for the glass of wine. It was barely touched, red hue swishing in the bulb of the glass as you took a sip. It’s fruity bitterness relishing over your tongue.

“What is it— like fiction or…?” Ellie pressed, genuinely.

“Non-fiction. A book of essay’s, really— written in different forms.” You nodded. “It sounds boring…”

Ellie shrugged, forking a piece of meat into her mouth. “Doesn’t sound boring to me.” She responded, with her mouth full.

“It’s the farthest from boring, honey.” Maria massaged your shoulder, sharing a small smile. You mirrored her in return, forking at the vegetables on your plate—perfectly steamed broccoli.

“How’s Brooklyn treating you?” You spoke up, raising your eyebrows.

Ellie lightly glared at Joel before answering, placing her utensils down. “It’s certainly treating me…” She muttered, rubbing her hands together, glancing at her girlfriend.

“It’s a great place for art, but just not Ellie’s art.” Cat chuckled, sipping from her wine glass.

“Oh, that’s what you’re doing.” You nod.

“I recall her using the words: too crowded.” Joel used air quotes to briefly describe the past conversation.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “It makes me feel crowded— the city. When you say it like that, it makes me sound fucking stupid, Joel.”

“You did say crowded.”

“Well, I meant overwhelmed.”

You snickered at their bickering, leaning back in your chair. “Back to your art, I guess you’re experiencing the artistic equivalent to writers block?” Tommy inquired, still chewing on his steak, raising an eyebrow. The auburn-haired young woman nodded, chuckling to herself. “That’s why you’re stayin’ with us for a little while, huh?”

Another record scratch.

You blinked at you father, deepening your eyebrows. “Wait, what?”

Joel had set his beer on the table, leaning forward. “Yeah, Ellie’s stayin’ with your parents for a little while to get her juices flowing, again.” He explained, pressing his lips into a soft smile. Ellie cringed at his use of the words juices, taking a sip of her beer.

Tommy and Maria told you nothing unless you asked for it for almost everything now—you at least deserved to know that Ellie was staying on the farm indefinitely. After all, when they’re dead and gone, it’ll be yours; so, they could’ve at least told you without you having to ask—that’s big!

“And, I’ll help out so I won’t be sleeping the day away— because I know that I will without a proper schedule.”

“I thought you guys didn’t need a farmhand.” You glanced at your parents, with your eyebrows still deepened with confusion.

Maria chuckled, standing to her feet. “We don’t need anything, but who could say no to a helping hand?” She grabs the empty basket of biscuits from the center of the table. “Anybody want more biscuits?”

“I would love some!” Cat spoke up, holding up a tattooed finger.

“Me too, honey.” Tommy also spoke.

A dry chortle left your lips, leaning against the back of the chair. “Are you staying on the farm, too?” You peered over at the stranger—the girlfriend, with a slight accusatory tone.

Her lips parted a few times before she responded. “Oh, no, I’m going back to Brooklyn. Not much of a country girl.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded, downing the rest of your wine. This week was going to be a doozy. When Maria came back to the table, you snatched a biscuit from the basket, biting into it. There was a perfect crispy layer on the outside, mixed with the perfect gooey, soft innards of the biscuit. “These are so good.” You muttered with your mouth full with its buttery goodness.

On your hip, your phone buzzed. Cursing under your breath, you plucked the cellphone from your belt, flicking it open. It was your agent calling you at eight o’clock at night. “Excuse me, I gotta take this.” You scooted the chair back, pressing the green button. “It’s late, Isa.” You started the call, stalking out of the room like the corporate woman you are. Taking the route up the stairs to your old bedroom.

“I need that new chapter by tomorrow morning— as in, 8am.” She scolded on the other line. “I’m personally reminding you. Since you couldn’t respond to my emails.”

You sighed, shutting your bedroom door behind you. “Isa, I’ve been traveling all day on public transport, and I’ve been trying to have family time— is that not what Thanksgiving is about?”

“You’re writer, hon. You have little bit of family time, then you hermit to finish your work— now, stop giving me grief. Time is of the essence.” Her smooth voice told, chuckling after her words. “I’ll be anticipating you’re new chapter tomorrow at eight! Have a great night.”

“Have a great night…”

Slapping your phone shut, you sighed, running your other hand over your face. Being a writer was relentless—just as relentless as you and your roommate’s neighbors. But, instead of lingering in frustration, you grabbed your heavy laptop and propped yourself on the cushion beside your window—your reading nook. Not forgetting to put a Sade tape inside of your stereo for some background music, before you began to diligently work.

You typed at your computer, rapid clicking sounds filling your ears. Although, it was no surprise that you worked your hardest after the sun set—it was like you had one too many espresso shots.

Every word was coming from the heart, and coincidentally enough, the guests at your home made it easier. This chapter was definitely reflecting the feelings you felt the day of Ellie’s seventeenth birthday. You used imagery and metaphors to describe that feeling of attack—being backed into a corner, having the worst part of yourself brought into the light. And, like most of your pieces, it was dredging it all back up again; the emotions.

That feeling of losing the only person that truly understood you.

Of course, you had a few relationships since then—a few, trying to chase that same feeling you felt when your hands touched. But there wasn’t anyone who could compare to her. How pathetic was it to still be harping on a highschool sweetheart?

Hours passed under the radar. Your parents being the mile marker in your work, knocking on the door to let you know everyone was heading to bed. Too busy with outlining new ideas, you barely spared them a glance, muttering a smooth goodnight.

It was about one in the morning by the time you finished the chapter. Still, it needed some tweaking, but it was good enough to send to your agent for the editor to look at.

Shutting your laptop, you finally took in your old bedroom. Various music artists slapped against your soft pink walls, attached with tape—some corners hanging off. Catwoman figurines lining the back of your large, white, wooden dresser; with comics stacked alongside them. Stacks of old books in the corner of your room, stacked from the floor to the middle of her wall. If you were to stumble into them, they’d experience one hell of a fall.

Suddenly, curiosity struck.

Hopping from the cushioned seat under your paneled window, you looked under your bed. Reaching for an old shoebox that was filled with many, many interesting things. You slid it from under the dusty bed frame, taking it back to that plushy seat you appreciated so dearly. Plucking the top off, you released a sigh. Immediately being hit with polaroids of yourself as a teenager—mostly standing beside, laughing with, and cuddling Ellie.

They were the photos you snatched from your wall after that fight. Oh, she looked the same. Still had that uncertainty in her earthy, olive eyes. You didn’t understand it then, and you most definitely didn’t understand it now. Ellie didn’t have to feel the uncertainty she was used to in foster care. She had people who believed in her—who will always believe in her.

Sifting through, your hands hovered over a letter she wrote. It was an apology letter sent around the time of her eighteenth birthday—almost a full year since the situation. The envelope was ripped open from the day you received it; stained with salty, heartbroken tears.

If only that day never happened…

A startling knock sounded at your window. It was no more than a pebble, which was confirmed when another launched within your sights. Scrunching up your eyebrows, you unlocked it, pulling it upwards. Once you peaked your head outside into the brisk, cool weather, a small smile spread onto your lips.

“Workin’ hard or hardly workin’ up there?” Ellie called from below. “I brought a little somethin’… Thought you could use a break from writing.” She waved a tightly rolled joint in her hands—which could only be seen if you squinted.

The corners of your lips spread wider, feeling horribly nostalgic. “You’re actually a little too late on that front. I finished a few minutes ago,” You pressed your lips into a line, continuing. “But I could never turn down smoke break. I’ll be down in a second.”

Dropping the letter, you scooted off the seat to grab your jacket. Stuffing your feet into the semi-stained Uggs you wore into the ground, before fleeing your bedroom. You didn’t feel the need to sneak down the stairs, but a part of you wanted to—to relieve that feeling of adrenaline you felt in your youth.

Ellie met you at the back door, holding open the creaking screen door as you exited. “I honestly wasn’t sure you still did this.” She chuckled, looking at the ground as you both began to walk away from the house. Putting some distance so the smell wouldn’t upset the elders in the home.

“What? Smoke weed?” You perked an eyebrow. “You think because I went all corporate, I stopped being down?”

“Actually… Yeah.” She responded, nervously snickering.

The two ofyou settled in front of this white-lined shed that was illuminated by the two warm, orange-toned lights on either side of the door. “Well, you’re kind of right…” You admitted, squinting your eyes, embarrassed. It’s hard being known for your adaptability. “I try to keep the pot smoking to a minimum. In the corporate world they test you for it.”

Ellie pulled the joint from behind her ear, placing it between her lips. She shook her head in response to your words. “Says the cigarette smoker…” She joked, eyeing you, teasingly. While she flicked her lighter to burn the tip.

“Hey, they don’t give a rats ass about nicotine— I need to make up for that loss somehow. I’m a writer for christ’s sake.”

When she finally gets it to catch the fire, she took two puffs before passing it to you between her index and thumb. “Where’s Cat?” You innocently questioned, taking a hit of the joint, then looking at it, before taking another hit.

Ellie became rigid, releasing an exasperated sigh from her lips. “The guesthouse, watchin’ some movie.”

You handed her the joint. “What, is she not down?” Mocking your previous words, with amused eyes. However, her demeanor had quickly shifted.

“She gets easily frustrated after traveling all day…” She shook her head in a dismissive way, like she didn’t want any further questions to asked.

“Hm… That’s relatable.”

Silence engulfed the both of you as you passed the blunt back and forth until it was nothing more than a roach. Hearing nothing but the distant wind chimes sounding off on the porch.

Before speaking, Ellie took a deep breath, glancing over at you as if she were nervous to make eye contact. “I hope me stayin’ here for a little bit doesn’t bother you too much.”

Her words were double-take worthy, you looked over at her with expressive eyes—widening, in surprise. “Bother me? Why would it bother me?” You leaned your shoulder on the shed, kicking one leg over the other.

“You didn’t seem like the biggest fan—“

“Ellie, I was surprised. That’s all.” You waved your hand, shaking your head. “I feel like they don’t tell me shit anymore…” Shoulders shrugging, you glance toward the house standing tall in all its glory. “They didn’t tell me about you moving to Brooklyn, either. What does it look like when someone you’ve known your whole life moves to a city you’re actually familiar with and they’re not, and you don’t reach out to help them? I’m only a forty minute train ride away.” You rambled, deepening your eyebrows. “They basically made me look like an asshole.”

You weren’t entirely sure how you’d react if you knew about Ellie’s moving to the big city. Knowing your habits, you’d probably sit by the phone for hours before making the move to give her a call. But, it’s not like you were given the opportunity to figure it out for yourself. Now, it just appeared that you forgot about her—or could care less about her endeavors; which is farthest from the truth.

Her full lips cracked into a smile, chuckling. The auburn-haired woman, mirrored your position, leaning her shoulder against the wooden shed. “Always worried about what you look like…” She muttered, sucking her teeth. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you’re an asshole— you just didn’t know.” Ellie shrugged. “It’s not like we talk as much as we used to…”

As much as we used to. That kind of stung.

Your eyes averted to the gravel under your boots. “Yeah…” There was an awkward beat that took its place between you. Swallowing, you shooed it away with speaking up. “What about your art? You’re living in one of the most creative cities in the world, and you can’t create?”

She puffed air from her lips, glancing in the direction of the guesthouse, priming her lips. “Okay… Confession— but only if what’s said here stays here.”

“What’s said at the shed, stays at the shed.” You affirm, holding a hand and crossing to fingers. The high from what you smoked clouding your mind, squinting your eyes and loosening your inhibitions.

“Cat and I moved in together pretty early— too early… I needed a roommate and she was the perfect option.” Ellie began, carefully. Olive eyes shifting under the dim light in thought. “I swear ever since I moved in with her… The inspiration to make anything new is fucking gone.” She ran her hand over her hair, which was actually loose without a hair tie. Dusting over her shoulders, pieces pushed behind her ears. “She, you know, hovers a lot— in a sweet way, it’s just irritating because not even her pushing me can be inspiring.”

Your heart skipped a beat; it was hopeful—you really are an asshole! “Damn… So, it’s not the city that makes you feel crowded. It’s Cat.” You hum, nodding your head, taking in your assumption. “And… You think staying here will help? Doing boring farm work?” A chuckle falls from your lips, borderline nervous, borderline humored.

She pursed her lips, raising her eyebrows. “I mean, I spent a lot of time here growin’ up…” Ellie looked at you, knowingly. “It was never boring when we did it together.”

“That’s because we were doing it together. I’m not gonna be here while you’re shoveling horse shit.” You chortled, peering at her through hazy eyes. She giggled and it sounded like music to your ears. It’s been awhile since you heard her laugh from something you said. Weed always did have a way of bringing people together.

“Well, maybe before you go, you could help me out. Jog my memory.” Ellie offered, raising her eyebrows. “It’s either you or suffering through Tommy’s jokes for hours—“

“I don’t mind, but we might have to jog each others memory.”

“Hey, you can take the girl out the country, but not the country out the girl.” She shrugged. “I have faith in you.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, a smile spread on your lips. “You’re still so corny.” Shaking your head, a laugh slips. Wrapping your arms around your body, you acknowledge the cool weather. It pricked at your exposed skin, and even through your jacket. “It’s getting late…”

She scratched the back of her neck. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I appreciate the joint— I needed it.” You pushed off the shed wall, licking your lips. In preparation to meander back toward the house, you rocked on your feet. “There’s some left over biscuits on the counter…” You drawled, but it was all right because Ellie had filled in for you.

“I’m fucking starving.”

Then, the two of you walked shoulder to shoulder back inside. Giggling at stupid jokes, surfing over any of the past debacles you had. Turns out reconvening with your childhood lover wasn’t so bad after all. For now, anyway.

[pearlcigs]

dealer!ellie masterlist // taglist

part one // fluff

part two // fluff

part three // angst, suggestive

part four // angst, suggestive

part five // angst

part six // angst

part seven // idk anymore

[wasitforrevenge]

the last of us twitter links ;)

hi a collection of some spicy links for everyone.

NSFW 18+ MINORS DNI

if it says post unavailable either: login into x on your mobile browser OR hit open in app at the top of ur browser page and it should load up into twitter itself (im not calling it x)

thanks for reading! lmk if you want more! and check out my boxer!ellie fic! two parts posted! and here’s my master list :) more coming soon! requests are open!

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

links are under keep reading so keep reading :)

PART TWO

joel miller

backshots with joel

teasing joel

joel making a mess of you

size kink w joel

joel letting you use him

back shots w joel

ellie williams

ellie eating u out from the back

ellie teasing you

making out and foreplay with ellie

getting f!cked by ellie

in ellie’s mouth

ellie eating you out

abby anderson

abby playing with you

taking her strap

taking care of abby

abby + you = table sex

✂️ w abby

taking her strap part 2

[chappellroansdreamgirl]

you said that SHE killed people?????? .... this bitch? .... HER?!

[cyberels]

later, loser.ᐟ ᯓ★

˗ˋˏ 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐒 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ˎˊ-

☆ ellie discovers the quickest way to get a girl underneath her

daily click! palestine masterpost

☆: sometimes i start writing without a plot in mind to get myself out of a funk and and and this is what i came up w lol so sorry if it’s doodoo ass

☆ warnings -> mention of blood, injuries, all that good shit that comes with skateboarding, probably really inaccurate skating talk, drugs, tbh probably really bad writing but bare with me here, no concept of stranger danger from reader when she sees a hot girl (ellie) for plot reasons lol

☆ skaterboarder!ellie yayyy she wears glasses because i said so &&&&& also ellie works at a vinyl shop and reader works at a bakery :)

☆ ☆ ellies playlist! ☆ ☆

u don’t have to listen but i made it to listen while i write and i thought it’d be fun to add

my masterlist

ellie was no stranger to making mistakes, she’s human, it happens… however, she usually doesn’t make this many stupid choices within the span of one single hour.

today, ellie was running late.

mistake number one.

she practically flew out of the door and hopped on her board, mumbling a half assed apology to her neighbor who she accidentally shoulder checked on her way out when she put on her headphones.

she’s probably going way too fast, but she’s been skateboarding for years, she can handle it. she still has the penny boards that she started skating on when she was 12 hanging up in her living room, right beside some of her other boards she’s had since then that she’s either destroyed or replaced. she weaved in and out of the people walking practically effortlessly, not caring if she was pissing anyone off, they’d live. she’d never have to see them again, anyways.

she opened her phone to turn on her music.

you, on the other hand, were taking your time; you had a good while until you had to be at work. you’ve created a habit of looking for ladybugs in the bushes outside your apartment complex after you noticed that the plant is home to many of the little insects. usually you just glance at the plant as you pass by, but today, you fully stopped to look.

unfortunately, you were unaware of ellie being just feet away from you.

guess you’re no stranger to mistakes, either.

granted, ellie would have had enough time to stop… if she was paying attention.

which she was not.

mistake number two.

you hear a string of curse words behind you. you barely manage to turn around before you’re pushed into the bushes by a girl who promptly lands on top of you. her skateboard rolled away pathetically. it’s almost like it was embarrassed, too.

if there had been any ladybugs, they were definitely squashed now.

you open your eyes slowly to find the other girl hovering just above you. her necklace dangles temptingly close to your lips as she pushes herself up. she's still on top of you, her face just inches away from yours. she blinks a few times, slowly taking in the situation. she seems lost in thought, the wheels in her head turning painstakingly slowly as she tries to comprehend what's happening and her part in it.

she’s taking way too long to get off of you, though, which only serves to frustrate you more.

“hellooo? can you get up?” you mumble through gritted teeth to the girl above you, turning your head to the side to avoid her gaze.

in hindsight, you probably should’ve asked if she was okay, but right now all you wanted to do was get up and pretend like this never happened.

you don’t even want to know how many people saw you fall.

“oh— oh fuck.” ellie stuttered, taking one last glance at you before she moved herself onto the sidewalk, not finding the strength to stand up fully just yet.

she grabbed her headphones that had been flung off in the impact. small scrapes lined the side of them, but at least they probably still worked. she put them around her neck, letting her head fall back in her hands. she took a deep breath, trying to get a grip on her emotions and the situation.

you sigh as you get up, and ellie can tell you’re mad based solely on how the exhale of air sounded.

“uh… you good?” you ask after an uncomfortable pause, eyeing the other girl. it was obvious you didn’t really care, but at least you tried to be polite.

you were still taking your time collecting yourself, brushing leaves out of your hair and wiping blood from your hands onto your jeans (thank god you wore black jeans today). you were definitely going to be sore tomorrow, but other than your scraped up hands, you were fine.

just really pissed off.

ellie looked up at you and then immediately looked back down, running her hands over her face once more. “yeah, i’m… good.”

you roll your eyes as you hold your hand (the one with the least amount of scrapes) out towards ellie, offering to pull her up. you can't help but feel pity as she sits on the sidewalk. not in a sympathizing way, but more of a "damn, this girl looks pathetic" way. she hesitates for a second, but then grabs your hand and smiles weakly.

“thanks.”

as much as you know that this situation partially is your fault, you’re still annoyed. you had spent so long getting ready today just to have some idiot push you into dirt.

when you speak again, your words come out harsher than you intended… not that you minded. “yeah. watch where you’re fucking going next time.”

ouch.

okay, maybe (keyword: maybe) ellie had caused the worst part of this, but she wasn’t going to sit here and take you blatantly being rude when you’re just as much to blame as she is. “maybe if you didn’t think you owned the sidewalk, i wouldn't have ran into you.”

you reach down beside you and grab her, now shattered, phone and her (also shattered) glasses. you raise your eyebrows as you look over the broken screen.

“maybe if you were paying attention.” you pause, wiggling the phone in front of her face. “you would’ve realized i stopped walking.”

she snatched her things back, she didn’t have a comeback for that.

her phone was fucked… usable, but the screen was shattered so badly that if she scrolled on it she’d probably slice open her thumb. small price to pay, she figures.

it’s not like she’s gonna buy a new one… but she would have to cough up the money for new glasses, though. damn it.

“why the hell did you stop walking anyways?”

you hesitate, looking back at the bush sheepishly, vaguely gesturing towards it as you speak again. “i— not that it’s any of your business— i wanted to see if there were any ladybugs on the leaves.”

“…oh.”

well now ellie just feels like a dickhead, because that’s actually really cute. that was not the answer she was expecting.

you continue looking away and ellie sighs, attempting to push past you to grab her skateboard.

mistake number three.

the second she takes a step, she falls into you again, her ankle completely giving out underneath her. you catch her, your arms wrapping around her hips as you hold her up.

ellie has never wanted to die more than she did at this moment.

her face was literally sandwiched in between your chest. she pushed herself back, hopping slightly.

what the fuck just happened?

“oh my fucking god. i’m so sorry. i– oh fuck, this is so awkward.”

yeah, awkward was one word for it. you stare at her blankly for a moment before you kick her skateboard towards her.

you could feel her touch lingering on your body like she was still there. if your hands were just a little lower you would’ve…

“its– it’s fine. dude, are you sure you’re alright?”

you sound more like you care this time, at least.

not that you do care, or anything,

just trying to make sure she wasn’t seriously hurt.

that’s all.

“i’m fine.” it was an obvious lie, but she was preoccupied with thinking about how she was going to skate to and from work if she could barely walk… she’d have to deal with it, she decided. there wasn’t any other option for her right now, she was already late.. “i’ll be fine.”

“very convincing.” you reply, looking her up and down. “you’re not seriously about to get on that thing again, are you?”

“not that it’s any of your business, but i don’t have any other choice, i’m gonna be late to work and this is all i have to get me there.”

you narrow your eyes at her.

no way this girl was reckless and stupid.

“what? you can’t be serious… you’re still going to work? are you an idiot?”

ellie doesn't answer right away, glancing down at her skateboard for a bit. you’re right, she should call out, but she hated the prospect of missing a day of work. money had been tight, even one missed day would be hell for her and her bank account.

“you gonna give me the money i’d lose if i called out?”

you opened your mouth to reply, but she was already flying past you, very clearly having a hard time but also very clearly not caring.

“don’t stop in the middle of the sidewalk next time, dumbass!” she yelled, leaving you standing in the same spot just watching her leave.

…and kinda wishing she’d come back.

just so you could get the last word.

when you walk into work, it’s unfortunately obvious that you’re pissed off, if the way your manager immediately asks what happened as soon as you clocked in was anything to go by.

you’re thankful for the excuse to rant, though.

“god, abby, where do i even start? i literally just walked out of my apartment and some girl on a skateboard slammed into me and we both went flying into a stupid plant. got a face full of bush and not even the good kind.”

“jesus,” abby laughed, picking a leaf out of your hair. “was she hot?”

“was she hot? is that seriously all you’re gonna say?”

“...well?”

“i hate you so much… but yeah, she was.” you admit, defeat obvious in your tone. you’re well aware that this would’ve been a lot easier for you if you didn’t find the dumb skater attractive. you’d been close enough to her face to see every detail… her freckles, her eyes, her lips— damn it. you couldn’t get her out of your head.

this felt like a sick joke.

abby clapped her hands together. “this isn’t a completely bad thing! did you get her number?”

“no, abby, i didn’t get her number. i was too busy trying to get her away from me because she was stupid and annoying.”

“you’re no fun, could’ve got yourself a skater girl.” she frowned. “are you okay though?”

“you should’ve led with that question, you know?” you huff, looking at the scrapes on your palms again. “i’m fine.”

“yeah, yeah. i should’ve.” abby tosses a pastry towards you. “here, for your troubles, on the house. go sit down in the break room for a little bit, you look like a mess.”

“gonna ignore the last part. thanks, abs.”

──── ✧《✿》✧ ────

──── ✧《✿》✧ ────

“jesus fucking christ.” ellie mumbled to herself, hopping off her board before she opened the door to the small vinyl store she worked at.

“late again, williams— oh. oh wow. you look like shit.” austin, the owner of the shop spoke, nudging ellie as she walked by. he was wearing a stupid smirk on his face which made ellie more aggravated.

asshole.

“real nice.” ellie grumbled, putting up her skateboard and backpack. “sorry for being late, won’t happen again, i just— some people are so stupid, you know?”

“by ‘some people’ do you mean you?” he laughed, spinning on his chair. he mocked the way ellie spoke, doing a high pitched voice that sounded nothing like her.

god, he was a 30 year old man-child, but he pays her… so… whatever. she’ll deal.

“ha-ha. good one.”

“ya gonna tell me what happened or are ya gonna leave me guessin’?”

“what happened is people don’t know how to walk anymore.” she scoffed, taking stock of the money she had to count before putting it in the drawer. “so fucking stupid.”

“by the looks of it you don’t know how to walk anymore, either. you gonna be able to work? i’m not payin’ ya to sit around, so if i need to call someone else in…”

she glared at him, trying to see if he’d explode if she stared hard enough.

he was right though, unfortunately, ellie was walking like she had just learned how to. it wasn’t the worst injury she’s ever got from skateboarding, but it was definitely inconvenient.

“yeah, i’ll be fine.” ellie snapped, shifting her weight to her good foot to avoid making her injury any worse. “jesus christ, it’s a twisted ankle. i’m not missing a limb.”

“but—“

“drop it.”

he put his hands up in mock surrender, the smirk still on his face. “oooookay, okay. whatever you say williams. you were still late though, let’s go back to talkin’ about that. what’s the count at now? is this the fifth or sixth time this month?”

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. shit’s hard when you don’t have a car.” ellie sighed, punching in the numbers on her register. “i’ll do better. today was not my fault, though.”

“am i gonna have to be more strict with you? everyone else shows up on time, you know?”

“yeah, yeah. whatever.” ellie rolled her eyes, trying to focus on work and push the pain out of her mind. “everyone else has a car.”

ellie really did not like austin. his whole holier-than-thou attitude irked her to no end.

still, it beat being jobless, so she knew she shouldn’t complain.

“don’t let it happen again.”

“i won’t, i swear. i’m really sorry.”

“right, okay, i’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick, you alright out here?”

she bit her tongue, holding back a groan.

austin ‘going to the bathroom’ was his way of saying that he’s gonna get really fucking stoned and then sit around and do nothing all day. this was a daily occurrence, at this rate.

“yeah, yeah, i’m good.” ellie mumbled, shoving away the annoyance she felt when he walked past her.

austin was a dickhead, but he was never outright mean, not really. he just… he thought he was better than everyone. a classic ego-centric prick.

as much as she hated him, she did like having a job— and being able to afford a place to sleep at night.

“ohhh, ellie, i gave you more shifts, like you asked.” he said before he walked out, smiling at her. “take a look at the schedule when ya get the chance.”

he has to be kidding.

she’s been begging for more shifts since god knows how long ago, and he decides to give her more now? when she doesn’t even know how she’s gonna be able to make it to work?

amazing. just what she wanted!

“great.” ellie muttered, shooting him a glare even though he was already gone. “more hours that i don’t know how the hell i’m gonna get to.”

she shook her head, austin wasn’t worth getting this pissed about— especially when he did try to do what she asked.

the store was never busy in the morning, so she sat in austins chair, finally taking a second to herself. she went over her options on how this was going to go.

she could have asked dina for a ride, if dina wasn’t off on some work trip about three hours away for the next two weeks, taking her and jesses shared car with her.

terrible timing.

she’d take public transportation if it was reliable and also if she didn’t have a few bad experiences with it already.

that wasn’t really a good option.

uber was definitely not an option. she already was going to have to buy new glasses and eventually pay for her phone to get fixed, she wasn’t about to drop $50 a day on ride.

she was screwed.

nothing was working out for her right now— the universe was laughing at her, just like it always did.

she wanted to kick and scream, but that wouldn’t help anything, plus she wouldn’t be able to kick very well right now.

oh well… she’d be fine, she’d just have to push through it.

her phone buzzed in her pocket and she winced when she seen the cracked screen again, it was so wrecked that it barely let her type in her password.

──── ✧《✿》✧ ────

──── ✧《✿》✧ ────

was ellie stupid for agreeing to go out of her way when she was already struggling to walk? yes.

does she care? no.

jesse was a good guy, he’s done a shit ton of favors for her, so this was the least she could do.

she’d never been to the bakery, but she always smelled it when she’d pass by, and it always looked like it’d be good. she did deserve a little treat after the day she had, anyways.

thank you jesse and jesse’s money.

when ellies shift is over, she feels so much worse than she did earlier, and austin repeating that ellie looked like shit over and over again wasn’t helping.

ugh.

“you’re a wreck, williams—“

“—goodbye austin, byeee. i’m leaving, out the door, shifts over. see you tomorrow.” she slammed the door shut, letting out a frustrated sigh as she got on her board again. “god. fuck off.”

the bakery wasn’t far, it was literally right across the street, but it felt like it was miles away to ellie. she leaned on the wall for a second to catch her breath before she walked inside.

it was a cute shop, one of those places you see on pinterest or instagram, with the led light signs and fake plants, it was actually really nice. she doesn’t know why she never came here before.

“let me know if i can help… oh god. it’s you.”

she looks over at you and she starts to wish the fall had just killed her on impact.

“please… pretend like this morning didn’t happen. i don’t want to deal with arguing right now.” ellie sighs, not giving you time to reply to her before she goes into saying her order.

she looked at your name tag as she paid, she could barely see what it said, her eyes squinting slightly as she tried to make out your name.

you scribbled little smiley faces and stars around your name, which was cuter than ellie would like to admit.

“go sit, i’ll bring your stuff to you after i box them, ‘kay?”

“i can wait here.“

“sit.”

“fine.”

she sat at one of the booths, attempting to use her phone without losing a finger. she wasn’t even paying attention to the content, just scrolling mindlessly as the memories of this morning replayed in her mind over and over again.

she was hoping to never see you again.

maybe coming here was a mistake.

“here.” you say after a few moments, placing the boxes on the table. “enjoy.”

you were being kind, but she could read behind the curtness of your tone.

you thought she was dumb. she could always tell by the way you talked to her; that look of disdain on your face.

“thanks.” she said, and then the silence took over again. it was obvious that neither of them wanted to start another conversation after the way the last one ended.

ellie couldn’t help but notice how just scraped up your hands were. you had bandages on them, but the blood that seeped through was bright red, like it was demanding to be looked at.

demanding ellie to feel bad for what she did.

damn it, she really should’ve just paid attention this morning.

would’ve saved her a lot of trouble.

she got up, sucking her teeth and hissing as she shifted her weight. she leaned on the table for balance as a few curse words left her mouth.

“god, you’re the dumbest person i’ve ever met.” you declared, confirming her suspicions.

she scoffed, trying to shake the pain away from her ankle.

man, this sucked.

“shut the hell up.” ellie snapped. “you don’t have to be so snarky, you know? i’m already dealing with the consequences of my shitty morning, you can drop the whole, ‘i’m better than you’ bullshit. if you listened earlier, you’d have known i said that i have no other choice.”

“i did listen, idiot. i don’t mean to sound like i’m trying to be better than you, okay? i’m sorry. but you seriously don’t have anyone that can help you out? do you have friends?”

“i have friends, asshole. they’re just either busy or i don’t want to inconvenience them. what’s it matter to you anyways?”

you don’t really have an answer, you’re not sure why it matters. maybe it’s because ellie looked really miserable, or maybe it’s because it had been partially your fault that she’s hurt… or maybe both. but you couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt about the situation she was in.

“i have a car.”

ellie paused, looking up at you. she wasn’t sure if she heard you correctly, or if this was just some weird, shitty joke.

“okay? congratulations?”

“don’t make me spell it out.” you reply, annoyance clear in your tone. “i’m saying, you’re obviously hurt, and it’s kinda my fault, so… if you needed a ride…”

“no.”

“don’t be stubborn. look, i get it, we’re not on the best terms right now, but i can’t just let you go like this without at least offering, y’know? plus, you seem like you could use the help.”

ellie’s mind was screaming at her to accept— it was logical. you offered a ride, she needs a ride, she should accept your offer.

“i could be a serial killer for all you know. you don’t even know my name.”

“yeah, okay. you? a serial killer? i’d just run away. not like you’d be able to chase after me.”

“hey, i can run pretty damn fast, you know?” ellie hissed. if she wanted, she could definitely chase you down… but she’d rather not do that at the moment. that was probably not a great idea. “hell, i could be an axe murderer.”

“what’s your name?”

“huh?”

“are you dumb?”

“…it’s ellie.”

“‘kay, ellie, now i know your name and if you’re observant— which i doubt but i’m gonna play devils advocate— you know mine. nice to meet you. now we know each other. i’m not gonna sit here and play 21 questions, do you want me to take you to your place or not?”

“what if you kill me anyways?” she asked, she was kidding, she just wanted to piss you off.

“i am not gonna fucking— you know what, you’re annoying. never mind.”

“wait. i’m sorry.”

fuck.

maybe this whole thing about you wasn’t so bad. you were just— abrasive.

she swallowed, forcing herself to stay calm. “i’ll take a ride.”

“what’s the magic word?”

“die.” ellie hissed. “you’re not funny.”

“almost! that’s four words. do you want a hint?”

ellie stared at you blankly for a few seconds before answering. “i am not saying please.”

“you just said it.” you grinned. “look, i get off at 6:30, that’s like… 20 minutes from now, if you don’t mind waiting. i’ll come get you when i’m off, sound good?”

“yeah. that sounds good.”

this is such a bad idea.

[pascals-doll]

“dont make a fuckin sound, hands up”

ellie williams x reader

🫧 yes, i lowk tweaked out when she said that before proceeding to kill the woman but i-

🫧 i had originally titiled it dont say a word cause i thought what she originally said was too long of a title BUT FUCK IT THAT SHIT MAKES MY PUSSY THROB

🫧 description: outbreak ellie! joel isnt dead teehee, smut smut SMUT lesbian smut, ellie being rough, fingering, oral sex (both reciving), bonadage with a flannel (reader recieving), finger sucking/gagging?, no mentions of y/n just pet names like princess, doll, pretty, and babe

you were dripping, your own juices trailing down your thigh….

how did you end up in this predicament exactly?

You went to Joel’s house, simply because he asked you to come over and help ellie out in the stables in the morning.

you arrived and greeted Joel, telling you that Ellie is upstairs.

The second you open that door, you were not safe. not for a second.

youre hand turns the knob, the door slightly opens to reveal no one in your view yet.

“Ellie?” you call out, slightly peeking.

you’re suddenly slightly pushed in, door closing shut simultaneously before youre swiftly pushed up against a wall.

your body had no choice but to go along with the jerking of each movement.

you were shocked slightly but by the non-aggressive behavior behind it, you knew who it was before even being against the wall.

“hi pretty” ellie says softly, hastily laying yet the softest kisses on your neck.

“oh, i see someone was definitely ready to see me” you joke, as you slightly pull her back to pull her in for a kiss. yet a kiss, led to her cupping your ass.

“lock the door” you mutter in between the heated lip-locking.

ellie locks it, wasting no time in scooping you up with all her strength and leading you onto her bed.

you pull away from the heated kiss momentarily.

“babe, Joel is right down-” you began to softly say before ellie placing a finger on your lips, shushing you.

she gives you a mischievous smirk before lowering her head in between your chest.

you can’t help but let out a soft sigh of relief as your squirm around under her hold.

“you missed me princess?” ellie mutters softly now undoing your bra clasps, straps falling off your shoulders revealing your perky chest.

you slightly shrug your shoulders so the bra falls off graciously completely.

ellie wasted no time in attacking your hard nipples and soft plush skin of your tits.

your hands made their way through her soft short brown locks, slightly tugging causing her to wrap her tongue around your right nipple, palming the left one.

“dont make a fuckin’ sound, hands up” ellie says in a stern yet calming tone, yet enough to make your heart race and back arch.

her hands grabs ahold of your wrists, putting them above your head.

ellie quickly grabs one of her flannels that was laying on her bed, grabbing it and rolling it slightly to tie around your wrists.

“is that good, doll?” she reassures lowly, you swore you couldve let out a purr with the shiver she sent down your spine.

you lift your hips up to brush up against hers “lets take these off, yeah?” she teases as you evidently get impatient.

“ellie baby, please” you coo out, moving your arms from the position they were even if they were tied together.

“nuh-uh, keep them there.” she says, looking up at you through her hooded stern eyes. she begins to undo the button of your shorts, zipper following quick after.

you raise your hips as she slides them down your legs, she grabs each of your thighs, pulling you closer to her and spreading your legs farther apart to reveal the pathetic wet patch seaping through your panties.

“seems like im not the only real excited” she teases with a sly smirk.

you grow pink and shy, trying to shut your legs but her hands quickly pulling them back to their original position “no need to get all shy doll, you look gorgeous like this” she says lovingly, before lowering herself so she can peck your thighs teasingly.

you were hot, you’re entire body felt like it was on fire with each kiss, touch, and word that came out of ellie just made you feel engulfed in a flame.

you’re mind felt hazy as she inched closer and closer to your pussy, making you squirm even more within her embrace.

“please el, please” you whine out.

“please what?” she teases, smiling at you, bringing two fingers to rub your wet folds through your panties.

“please fuck me-fuck me, ellie” you whine out, maybe a little too loud. ellie wasnt so pleased this time.

“what the fuck did i say?” she says before sucking harshly on both titties as she removed your panties quickly as her two fingers finding your pussy.

you let out a pressed shut whimper as your lips are pressed together in pure bliss of finally being rewarded by her.

“t-to not say a word” you say in a delicate tone, it made ellie spiral at how vulnerable you looked.

“ima make you feel so so good, princess” ellie coos, her hand caressing your face then going to cares your tits as her tongue swipes a long line along your juicy folds.

you continue to press your lips shut as soon as ellies tongue fucks you relentlessly.

the sensation of ellies tongue running all along your clit in a circular motion while sucking ever so slightly will have your back arching every fucking time and she knows it.

ellie with both hands pushes your legs up to your chest to get full exposure of your pussy. you bit your lip so aggressively, you swore you couldve bled, biting back the loudest moan possible.

you could feel ellies eyes on you, watching you from the crevess of your cunt and both legs. she smiles as she takes one hand and within no time, she has her middle and ring finger sliding inside of your pussy.

youre eyes roll in pure bliss as you lift your hips to meet closer to her tongue, you struggle in not wanting let everyone outside and Joel know youre getting slutted out in ellie’s bedroom.

“doing s’good pretty” she praises as she fucks her fingers into you nonstop and moving her tongue away.

ellie’s face finally meet yours making you lean up for a kiss hungrily, your lips meet together in perfect moving in sync.

ellies fingers continuing to ease you to you closer and closer to your orgasm.

you let out the softest whimpers against her lips, ellie swears she could listen to you make those noises like the music that plays in her headphones like nothing.

ellie pulls away causing you to let a little frown settle upon your face but being quickly replaced with your jaw loosening and back arching by the vigorous rubbing of your clit by her thumb as her fingers get wetter.

your mind gets hazy as no words fall out but heavy pants and breathy whines

“good girl, c’’mon cum doll” ellies praises were enough to send you over the edge.

you dig your nails into her arm as you cant help but slightly shake “mmhm, thats what i like to see” ellie whispers to herself as she slides her white coated fingers out of you.

“open” she says, you open your mouth taking in her fingers and sucking softly.

you keep eye contact as you taste yourself on her fingers.

“my turn” you say, all done cleaning off her fingers causing her smile as you quickly pull down her sweatpants and quickly switching positions.

you lay ellie down as your lips meet hungrily.

you pull her panties down, she was just as wet, if not even more.

“youre such a good girl for me” ellie mutters, admiring the site of such a beautiful sight infront of her, you in between her legs.

you love each praise that leaves her lips as you inch closer to her pussy, immediately attaching your lips softly to her swollen wet clit causing her to groan out a “fuck” it was little loud.

just like that, a knock on ellie’s door.

you move your head up and look at her in panic.

“is everything good in there girls?” Joel says loudly, concerned sealed into his tone.

“y-yeah! i got a wound and shes helping me clean it! we’ll head to the stables soon!” ellie yells back, giving you a look of panic and hope.

“okay, unlock the door once youre done.” he says before you hear his steps walking away from the door.

you both let out a fit of giggles.

“lets continue you this after?” you suggest, mischievously smirking.

[judenostopwaitkeepgoing]

Your Villain Buys You Lingerie! 🌸

18+ MDNI | Suggestive Content | EN-released!Villains x Fem!Reader

CW: suggestive content, some mentions of power imbalances, some villains' descriptions are fluff-adjacent hehe

AN: These are the kinds of lingerie/sexy outfits that I think the villains would buy you! Enjoy! These fictional men are a problem for me! Hehe!

William Rex

Will would take your taste into consideration while also managing to select something that he likes. And he would spare no expense. We’re talking designer pieces here. Definitely in shades of red, black, maroon... dark jewel tones, of course. I’m imagining him at the store—the saleswomen absolutely falling in love with him while he describes the kind of sexy lingerie set he wants to buy for you. Would probably land on something that takes time to remove, like a full corset set. He’d want to enjoy the view for as long as possible!  

Harrison Gray

Harry strikes me as a man of simpler tastes. He would pick something cute and comfortable for you, because to him it does not matter what you’re wearing—you are always sexy! But seeing you in the mint-green matching bra and panties that he got you gets him unexpectedly flustered! He’d bury his face in his hand and sigh, “I know I got them for you, but I already want to take them off...” So you get to tease him for once for being such a perv. Win win!

Liam Evans

You know that this certified babygirl knows his way around a lingerie shop okay! He would honestly buy you cute and sexy lingerie all the time. Like you would have soooo many matching lingerie sets from him lol. You could wear a different one every night and not run out for months. He loves to dress you up all cute and sexy! He thinks you look especially good in shades of pink, but he buys you lingerie in every color/style imaginable. And when you put it on he gets flustered, even though he’s seen you in sexy lingerie so many times before. Sorry, he’s obsessed with you!

Elbert Greetia

Okay, talk about sparing no expense. You would have to go to all of the lingerie shops in town to tell them to turn Elbert away at the door next time he comes in because it’s fr starting to be too much lmao. He would of course listen to you if you told him that you don’t need any more lingerie, only handing you one more box. You open it to find gorgeous, handmade pale blue lace garters. “Look on the inseam of them,” he’d tell you. Embroidered on the inside of each garter with pretty blue thread is a message from him. “To my dearest y/n” on one and “a beauty for my eyes alone” on the other.

Alfons Sylvatica

Lol buys you a full black latex/leather dominatrix outfit. You stare at him incredulously and he just smirks at you. “What? You don’t like it?” Try as you might to explain that you don’t hate it, but haven’t worn something like this before, it does not matter! Lol! Alfons will coach you don’t worry! “That’s exactly the idea, y/n,” he’d purr, “seeing someone as innocent and pure as you in such a naughty outfit... the thought alone gets me so excited... see... look, I’m already hard...” Lmao.

Roger Barel

Although he can appreciate a woman’s beauty in pretty much anything, he doesn’t really see the point of lingerie lol. He’s just going to strip you! Why get so fancy? But the idea of you wearing something underneath your clothes all day that he picked out for you does turn him on. Like a secret understanding that you belong to him. He would pick out something simple and elegant, but racier than what you would pick out for yourself so he could enjoy watching you nervously adjust your clothes throughout the day to make sure no one caught a glimpse of what you were wearing underneath...

Victor

Haha, there’s no kind of lingerie out there that Victor wouldn’t want to dress you in! Corsets, teddies, matching bras/panties, G-strings, thigh-high stockings, crotchless panties... You name it, he’s already picked it out for you! You politely decline most of these items, which he of course doesn’t mind (though he’ll pretend to pout). But when he does manage to convince you to wear the cute see-through lilac nighty that he picked out, he can’t take his eyes off you. He’ll whisper compliments in your ear while he runs his fingertips teasingly over the sheer fabric... “Mm, I knew you’d look heavenly in this color.”

Jude Jazza

Buying you gifts has a dual benefit for Jude: he gets to see your reaction and it means you owe him lol. So you better believe that he’s grinning from ear to ear as he watches you unwrap the chastity belt that he bought you. The look on your face is a mixture of disbelief, outrage, and, you hate to say it, anticipation lmao. You know what this means. “The princess was getting so dirty askin’ for naughty gifts and all, so consider this the start of your Good Girl training.” The blood drains from your face and he just grins even more! Get ready! Hahaha!

Ellis Twilight

He would buy you a comfy but sexy black lace bra and panties set, which you love. He’s so delighted that you like the set, so he feels like you won’t mind the second part of the gift: black fuzzy handcuffs that match. He can tell that you get turned on as soon as he shows them to you. “y/n let’s try them out now, okay?” And before you know it you’re in the lingerie he bought you with your hands handcuffed to the bed above your head. “Mm,” he’d say appreciatively, “I want to keep you handcuffed and stripped like this forever, okay?” Buckle up! Lol.

[stary-darlin]

LOVE DUEL

— boxer!ellie williams x reader

TROPE: strangers to lovers

SUMMARY: when work calls and you have nothing to do than follow your boss's rules, going to the WWE match that had a boxer you never saw before, same in her chillness when she fights and when she flirts with you infront of camera — basically fearing no one, and that what attracted you to her. Not knowing that she already had you in her wishlist of the life.

OTHER: mentions of misogyny, and just two horny mfs daydreamin' about each other :3

Ellie walked in with her coach behind her, with nothing more than the screams and chanting of her name echoing around the boxing match, her fans all around waving to her and trying to get her attention as if she was a goddess in front of them. And she loved every bit of it.

Her smirk wide from both sides of her face as she looked up at the audience, waving to them all, loving how all of their eyes were on her. She was not an attention seeker but she was an attention eater if you may say, the only difference between them both is that attention seekers are desperate for attention but Ellie? she receives it everywhere she goes, she doesn't have to work for it, the world itself was the one who needed her attention. I mean, come on, she's hot, she's smart, and she has the power of 100 men by herself. Of course, she didn't want anything after that, right? wrong. She wanted—she needed you. he interviewer who looked like a deer in the headlights with all the flashes going around the room, and she loved that about you. she loved how you looked like you were a masterpiece in an old man's house, his ass too old to even look at you for a second; overall just in the wrong place, and she would love to make herself your right place.

She took a seat on the bench infront of the boxing ring, taking her bottle from her coach and taking a sip, everyone's eyes were on her while her eyes were on you as you talked to the camera infront of you with that fake smile on that you thought you perfected but not to ellie though, she knew you. She knew you were holding your annoyance inside of you and smiling, acting happy as if you weren't scared of the men yelling by her side and chanting Ellie's opponent's name, thinking that ellie would lose because she is a women while the most gorgeous women is next to them, trying to hear through the ear-headset as you nodded. very misogynistic of them.

She smirked and waved to — you — the camera, winking as you kept the smile on, speaking about the information of ellie that you memorized from the day you got the papers sent to your desk. your hand gripping the microphone and the other brushing your hair through your fingers when the camera turned to the hallway as ellie's opponent came out, the man buffer than any man you ever saw in your whole life — which was full of skinny tired employees — gazing back at ellie, seeing that she already was looking at you with that same face-eating smirk of hers, not giving a flying fuck about the 10x sized man that was supposed to be her opponent.

All the cameras were on the opponent and ellie to catch their reactions to each other but Ellie was very much not there, waving and giggling like a little girl when she knew she catched your attention. walking to you, your team noticed it and used it to their advantage, pointing the camera at her and you before you started interviewing her.

"the infamous death-doer is here all of a sudden, i see." you spoke with a light tone, raising your brows as she smirked and tilted her head to the side, not even glancing at the camera.

"the infamous death-doer and ladies-attracter, y'know." she winked before laughing, her confidence over the hills. you giggled — a genuine giggle that ellie took as a compliment to herself — looking at her with those sweet-looking eyes that she would do anything to keep them in her direction.

"ladies-attracter, huh? why that nickname?" you crossed your arm, being comfortable for once since the whole time you were here. Ellie's fans screaming as they heard the nickname that ellie gave herself all of a sudden.

Ellie watched you smile with those lips of yours, oh how desperate she was for those lips of yours. "i mean aren't i one?" she raised a brow, looking up at her audience and back to you; half of the audience were girls, screaming from the top of their longs for her. you looked at her audience and chuckled, "guess it's your trait isn't it?" Ellie nodded proudly.

"well is being not scared from buff men one of your traits?" you asked, bringing the microphone to her. "you could say that, i just don't see what is so fearful about them. you only get the idea of scary because they take much space unlike what we usually see in a normal day, besides if it wasn't for their muscles and buffy arms they would be like any other man, useless, that's why they get that figure of theirs, to obtain dominance cause they don't have it without all that." she spoke confidently as she looked at the opponent and back to the camera for a second before shrugging her arms and looking back at you. "so that's your answer, darlin'"

"oh, that–" you stuttered as you looked at her with widened eyes, her words leaving you stunned. you let out a giggle, "i cannot give my opinion but you very much spoke my mind." you nodded. Ellie smiling as she heard your reply and seeing your reaction before seeing her coach waving to her to get ready. "well i will have to go, love. here," she took your hand and wrote on her number on it with the pen that you had in your cards, her handwriting cursive and rough with sharp edges like her routine in boxing that you watched last night to get to know her. Ellie turned your hand and kissed your knuckles before looking at your for the last time and walking to her coach.

You sat down as you watched the match begin, Ellie sitting in her corner of the boxing ring, manspreading with her eyes keeping an eye contact with her opponent, a smirk forms on the corner of her lips as she sees her opponent growl — trying to act scary, I guess — But it didn't work on her. She got up as soon as she saw the host standing infront of her, starting the match.

The size and height difference between the man and Ellie was very obvious, everyone doubted that she would lose except you. You believed she could do it if she had that real confidence and speed to hit her opponent at the right time. You were no expert in this but Ellie sure did, you watched four matches of hers since her debut and you saw that nothing changed. Same confidence, the same smirk, and the same hate for men. Maybe that was the thing that drove her to be who she is now; as professional as other boxers who said that no women could outstand them since they were stronger and took much longer to be who they were but Ellie pushed all that behind her it's nothing. You loved it, loved how she is who you want to be, who you desire to be with; and you wanted to know more about her.

Ellie raised her chin to the man, her expression calm, mocking him while he looked at her with an angry expression looking like a Buffalo getting ready to punch someone's ass, and no it wasn't her ass, it was his own.

Ellie let out a chuckle after the man tried to punch her straight in the face, which she dodged easily like it was a fly. Ellie took two steps back and he followed her by as if he was her little pup. Ellie quickly moved to the side, pulling his leg and making him fall so easily. The man let out a roar — yeah, maybe he was indeed a furry... — quickly getting himself up, throwing himself at her to pin her on the floor. Ellie noticed and moved away in a second as he fell on the floor like a cartoon character, she quickly sat on his back and twisted his arm behind his back with her other arm around his neck. Such an easy act that can make a bull weak in a second.

Everyone gasped at her sudden dominance over the guy who was supposed to win but didn't. The host quickly ran to the boxing ring and started counting down, Ellie keeping the man on the ground with all of the strength she had, her opponent unable to move his face slowly turning red as the host finally counted to zero. Ellie's audience stood up and screamed, chanting her name. Ellie stood up and jumped off the boxing ring like it was another Tuesday.

Every reporter watched her with their jaw on the ground. "That was– unbelievable! One round, just a couple of minutes, and the man is down!" You spoke as you looked at the camera. "For the first time, in boxing history, something like this happened before!"

Ellie's name echoed through the roof of the room, her bodyguards standing around her to portect her from the crowd that was running towards her. The spotlight was all on her, leaving the man with the failure of his own. She walked out through the hallway to her backstage, the guards closing the doors of the hallway to not let anyone get it, leaving you and the team to record the scene before it calms down.

You looked at your palm that had her number and wrote it down in your card, putting it in your bag so you could call her when you get home.

This seems like it will be a long journey, but hopefully it will be worth it.

All rights reserved to @stary-darlin , please do not copy, rewrite, translate my works on any other platform.

Requests are open!! <3

[lovedrruunk]

'Girl next door જ⁀➴♡ Chapter 1

In which Joel plays Cupid in order to help a hopeless Ellie win over the cute girl next door.

Series Masterlist!

prologue! - chapter 2!

"It's just Sugar"

w.c; 2.2k

[silly awkward Ellie Williams x fem reader!]

"'Morning" Ellie said slowly as she walked into the kitchen eyeing Joel suspiciously.

"What's with the face?"

There Joel stood behind the kitchen island wearing a pink and white polka dotted apron with ruffles that he had “borrowed” from Maria and never given back. In front of him was a bowl of yellow cupcake batter.

“You never bake. You’re like, terrible at it actually.” Ellie said as she lazily made her way behind the island. Standing to his side she reached out her hand in order to dip her finger into the batter. Putting it up to her lips she licked it off while grimacing.

“Ellie, that's disgusting." Joel said furrowing his brows at her.

"That's disgusting." She pointed back to bowl looking up at him. "How do you mess up cupcakes?" She says before walking away.

"Hope you get salmonella." He said teasingly rolling his eyes as she heads to the counter picking up an apple "Salmo- What? Never mind actually I don't care." She says biting into it chewing obnoxiously while she's at it. "Who are we trying to poison with your awful baking skills anyway?"

"Y/N."

Ellie chokes on her apple coughing aggressively before spitting it out. She looks up at him bewildered.

"Why are you baking cupcakes for Y/N?" She spews out quickly furrowing her brows at him, confusion written all over her freckled face.

"Technically it's for her old man, he got a promotion last week. Thought it'd be nice to bring something to celebrate." He smiles smugly to himself as he continues to stir the batter.

Ellie blinked. "You couldn't have just bought a cake like a normal person?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Joel shrugged. "Besides, it's the thought that counts."

"Yeah, well, your thoughts are gonna give everyone food poisoning," Ellie muttered, taking another bite of her apple.

Joel ignored her, focusing on pouring the batter into the cupcake tin. "By the way I'm outta sugar. Think you can head next door and ask Y/N for some?"

Ellie froze. "Are you serious? It's just sugar, you'll live. What do you need sugar for anyway? You're already done." The pitch of her voice rising the more she continues to complain, trying and failing to be nonchalant.

Joel looked at her, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "I need to make frosting. Unless you wanna use salt instead."

Ellie sighed throwing the apple core into the trash.

"Besides, I thought you two were friends? Like 'ya said It's just sugar." He continued.

Ellie rolling her eyes looking up at him. "We are! Or- were. But that's not the point... it's just-" She looks around the kitchen trying to think of the right word "stupid." She huffs as she crosses her arms.

"Oh wow you think she's stupid? Well that's not nice of you."

"You know what I meant!"

"Ellie," He said softly reassuring her "It's no big deal."

"Yea but-" She started, then stopped. She knew she was overreacting but how could she not. Ever since the day Joel had brought up the idea of you being a potential love interest for her it seemed like you had taken over her every thought. She stayed up some nights thinking back to her interactions with you, overanalyzing your every word probably just convincing herself of something that wasn't there. If he had asked her to fetch something from your house a week ago she would have done it without a second thought, but now it seemed impossible.

"You're just borrowing sugar Ellie. You'll live." He says with a happy look on his face handing her a measuring cup.

"I won't but okay." She rolled her eyes begrudgingly reaching her hand out to accept it, walking over to put on her shoes and jacket. "And don't say 'borrow' as if we're gonna give it back, that makes no sense. What you should be giving back is that god awful apron..."

"Heard that!"

As she stepped outside the morning air was chilly and the sun was just starting to warm up the street. Ellie’s mind raced with a jumble of thoughts. It wasn’t just about the sugar or Joel’s baking, it was about you. As she made her way down the stairs she thought back to when you were both kids. Her skipping over to your house for dinner with her own dish to share, some Frankenstein contraption of anything good she could find in the fridge. You had always said you loved her cooking but now being older and wiser she knew you were just saying that to be nice, but still, the memory of you appreciating whatever she brought over made her smile. She'd bet money that you would play the same part when Joel comes over to give your family his gross cupcakes. She almost felt bad about the whole thing... almost.

The walk to your house felt longer this time around. Was it just because she was walking extra slow out of fear of knocking on your door? Maybe, maybe not. I mean c'mon, knocking on a girls door to ask for sugar that should be lightwork for her. Afterall, Ellie had been through hell and back over the years, what's talking to you gonna do? Like Joel had said, she'd live.

Now standing in front of your front door she took a deep breath. A part of her wanted to just turn around and go back to Joel measuring cup empty or hell just go to the store and buy some cupcakes herself, but she knew if she went back to him sugarless she wouldn't be able to look him in the eye. With retreating being off the table she decided it was best to just get it over with, sucking it up, growing a pair, and locking the fuck in.

Reaching her hand out to knock on your door she chose to ignore the way it slightly trembled. Once, then twice, then thrice, then- 'fuck is knocking 3 times too much? i'm being annoying arn't i' Seconds felt like hours as she waited for anyone to open the door, when suddenly

"Ellie! Hey, what's up?"

Ellie stood there for a second blankly staring at you as you greeted her. You were in your pajamas, hair still messy from your nights rest and eyes a little puffy. The morning sun shined on you making you glow and she couldn't help but think looked really cute. 'which isn't weird at all because it's totally normal to be able to admit that someone is attractive without there being any meaning behind it!' After you two had fallen out she never really took the time to observe how you changed, but now face to face really looking at you she could see just how much you've grown. You no longer had the babyface you had in all her memories of you two together, you had grown into it, you looked perfect actually now that she had thought about it. Pretty. But not like pretty pretty like pretty, like she could stare at your face for hours without needing to blink pretty. It felt weird to suddenly recognize all these differences at once but she quickly snapped out of it. She forced a smile, hoping it didn't look as strained as it felt.

"Hey, uh, Joel's trying to bake, and he ran out of sugar. Can we borrow some?" She cringed heavily at herself the moment the words slipped out her mouth. 'Borrow? Really?'

"Borrow? Really? I'll be expecting you to give it back then." You chuckled lightly teasing her. Little did you know that one little sentence just ruined her entire year. Ellie face whitened as she Internally freaked out, she felt her face heat up and her palms sweat.

Ellie chuckled nervously, tightening her grip around the measuring cup in her hand. "Oh, sorry, no, uh, I'm not sure why I said 'borrow.' You're right, that makes no sense. I mean, how does one even 'borrow' sugar? Like, do we measure it out and give it back later? Or do we just...?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Ellie, relax. I was just messing with you. You don't have to return the sugar."

God how did she manage to make it even worse? "Oh, right. Yeah, of course. That makes way more sense. Sorry, I'm just... yeah." As she was forcing another smile she thought about Joel and how he was probably in the kitchen right now without a care in the world. She wished him the absolute worse in this moment, after all this was all his fault, him and his stupid cupcakes. In fact, she hates cupcakes now! He has officially ruined cupcakes for her and she made a promise to herself that she'd let him have it later... if she gets out of this alive.

You held the door open a bit wider. "You're welcome to come in. Here I'll take this from you." You smiled sweetly reaching out to take the measuring cup from her hands. You looked down at it once you felt how wet the handle was but you paid it no mind.

"Sure. Yeah, thanks." She muttered smiling softly as she followed you inside.

Once through the door she was hit with a wave of nostalgia. The familiar scent of your home, a mix of fresh flowers and something distinctly you, brought back a flood of memories. She looked around, noting that not much had changed. The same cozy furniture, old family photos on the walls, and the soft, inviting ambiance.

Ellie's eyes landed on a series of framed photos on a nearby shelf. She walked over, noticing one that showed you at around thirteen, smiling awkwardly holding up a peace sign. 'there's the face i remember', she thought with a smile.

You noticed her looking at the photos and came over, glancing at the one Ellie was staring at. "Ah, the awkward years," you said with a laugh, a painful expression on your face. "My mom insists on keeping those up for some reason, it's so embarrassing.."

Ellie chuckled, feeling a little more at ease. "It's not so bad. If it makes you feel any better I thought you were the coolest."

You grinned, nudging her playfully. "Get real." You said before walking over to the kitchen opening one of the top cabinets. "You were like the coolest of the cool. God I thought you were so badass Ellie." You laughed some more as you reminisced on your own memories with Ellie while on your tippy toes reaching for the sugar. To this day you'd never admit it but a part of you sensed a bit of pride for being Ellies first friend in Jackson. When her and Joel had first moved here she was like a breath of fresh air. Always knew what to say, always had some snarky comeback, she never took shit from anybody and she'd never know just how much she inspired you. Jackson seemed so quiet before she arrived, in the months you had been friends with her you seemed to have laughed more than you had in your entire life. She was like a firecracker but you had noticed that over the years she seemed to die out, just little enough for you to notice. It wasn't anything bad really, just what growing up does to people you guessed.

"That's because I was badass. But so were you." Ellie smiles, your confession of finding her 'badass' had made her a lot happier than she'd care to admit. She thought visiting you for the first time again would be awkward and insufferable just because of how you two had slowly fallen out, but talking to you again began to feel so casual. Ellie started to forget why she was worried in the first place.

"Ok well you weren't just badass, you were hilarious, smart, pretty, fun. Seriously El's, you were like everything."

There it was. Exactly what she was afraid of. Words from you that probably means nothing that will keep her up at night overthinking. You said it so casually, pouring sugar into the cup smiling. Ellie looked at you feeling her smile strain again. You were just being as sweet as always, no biggie.

"Thanks." In all honesty didn't know what else to say. She was flattered, of course she was, but she didn't know how exactly to take it so for now she chose to ignore it.

"Here you go," you said turning around walking towards her. You handed it to her with a smile. "Tell Joel I said good luck with the baking."

Accepting it she thanked you again as she let you walk her to the door. Stepping out she turned towards you again, "Oh, and congratulations on your dads promotion."

"Dads... promotion?"

The two of you stood there staring at each other blankly, progressively becoming more confused by the second.

"Uhh yea! Thank you Ellie! I'll see you around."

. . .

Walking through the front door Ellie let out a loud groan, wiggling out of her jacket before making her way to the kitchen setting the measuring cup on the kitchen island.

"Joel! I got your stupid sugar!" She yelled out for him.

Looking back to the island she noticed a note left for her.

took too long

went to the store to buy more sugar

be back in 20

-Joel : )

"Ugh."

. . .

Thanks 4 reading u all! Notes r appreciated! :3

authors note!!!! <33; SRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!! i got rlly insecure abt my writing tbh but then i realized like i dont have to be this serious writer using big words and crazy detailed descriptors with 12k word chapters ykwim? im a gay teenage girl so im gonna write like one! Dialogue is definitely my strong suit like ahh its so fun. be honest guys does the way i write bug u? is it too fast paced? cuz i feel like it is TELL ME!!!!!! ALSO ITLL START TO GET MORE ROMANTIC AND SILLY SOON I PROMISEE

[TAGLIST YAY !!!! ヾ(＾ ∇ ＾).] @liasxeatt - @softlysunrays - @radioheadfan699 - @4ftergloww - @elliepoems - @sapphointhe21stcenturyposts - @cattjull - @elliescoolerwife < u two have to fight > @elliewilliamsrealgf - @ratdungeon - @nombreuxx - @localgirl56 - @givenoutlaw - @i-fucking-love-women-blog (so real) - @forgetdisturbance - @boobdrug - @ellieusedtampon (oh...) - @cyberl33ch - @hysteriawillnotsuccumb - @machetegirl109 - @yumimak - @lesbian-useless

[vxsellie]

‧₊˚┊simple living things﹗

a hunger games!au ellie williams fanfiction.⌇ 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭 𝔦

summary. reaping day. something ellie is rather indifferent towards, wanting only to return back to the warm embrace of nature. meanwhile you're the complete opposite, today being one that'll determine your fate, as well as your placement in your family. this chapter follows the alternate experiences that the two of you go through.

content warnings. depictions of dead animals, domestic abuse, implications of slavery (avoxes). if you see anything else that i missed, pls let me know!

total wc. 10,815

notes!! she's here!!! chapter one of this beauty!!! i've proofread this at least fifty times and i'm still not happy with it, but! here's the reminder that this fic is formatted and meant for ao3, not tumblr (hence why it's so goddamn long). anyway, i advise you read it there rather than here for that reason. it's updated sooner and i actually make sure that it's intelligible. the link is right here ↓

𝜗𝜚 series masterlist ⸝⸝ playlist ⸝⸝ ao3 𝜗𝜚

11:46.

DISTRICT SEVEN.

“Again?” Ellie’s groggy cavil is muffled against the crook of Cat’s neck. Her freckled face is buried into the warmth of the woman’s bare skin, chasing the comfort her proximity provides.

Cat huffs an airy laugh, her fingers absentmindedly running along an auburn scalp. “We’ve gone over this.”

“Yeah, but,” Ellie props up on her elbows to frown at her, “You went last year.”

“It’s a good thing if they’re asking me to attend again, Ellie.” Cat reminds her as she’s done at least fifty times by now. Despite her dwindling patience, Cat’s eyes are filled with naught but fondness as they clash with a pair of viridescent irises. Ellie continues to frown at her, adamant in her show of defiance. Cat continues to fiddle with her choppy hair as she speaks. “The Capitol is extremely picky with their stylists. It’s an honor to work for them, not to mention being chosen by them.”

Ellie has to swallow back the words that crawl up her throat and threaten to spill. Words of which vocalize her personal repugnance for the Capitol. She and Cat have gotten into plenty of fights regarding this topic and she refuses to cause another — especially considering the news she’s been trying to avoid facing all morning.

“I won’t see you for, like, a month.” Ellie grumbles before flopping back down onto Cat’s chest. She turns her head so her ear is pressed against her ribs, the gentle thudding of Cat’s heartbeat almost soothing enough to distract her from the world that envelops them.

Their bare bodies are pressed flush together as Ellie continues to listen to the repetition of her palpitating organ. She can feel Cat’s fingers toying with her hair, the soft caresses providing a sense of calamity. Her chest rises and falls, Ellie’s head shifting alongside each breath she takes. The intimacy it takes for to be near someone in this way — especially for Ellie — is oftentimes overlooked and seen only as crude or lustrous. However, in this case, they’re simply enjoying one another’s presence. Nothing vulgar about it.

Oh how Ellie wishes she could stay like this forever. In this little oasis of solace she’s founded for herself. Waking with Cat in her bed whilst morning sunlight filters through the window and casts golden hues over hardwood flooring. It’s nigh impossible to imagine that in only a few hours they’ll be separated for an indefinite epoch as Cat is escorted off to the Capitol while Ellie remains here.

She shuts her eyes, arms tightening around Cat’s waist as she wishes to cherish what little time she has left with her. Cat doesn’t dare cease playing with her hair, delicate fingers toying with the strands. 

Comfortability, domesticity, safety. That’s what Ellie feels when she’s near Cat — like nothing in the whole world could reach her. Like they’ve left the horrors of their District and are now floating through the cosmos all alone. Just the two of them. Though she knows better than to voice that to Cat, having found out the hard way that she doesn’t feel the same.

What they have is impermanent, said Cat when Ellie questioned her on fidelity, it has to be, she’d said. Even now, Ellie is unsure what that was supposed to mean. But she didn’t pry any further, for fear of damaging the fragility of what relationship, or lack thereof, they’d formed. Ever since, Ellie has learned to keep her feelings locked away in a hidden corner of her mind, making sure they never come forth to have the dust blown away. 

“Ellie!”

They both jolt to attention as the bedroom door flies open, doorknob slamming against the thick wooden wall behind it. Ellie sits up and narrows her eyes at the perpetrator, only to roll them once she comes to realize who it is.

“What do you want, Riley?” Ellie grumbles, flopping back against Cat as Riley enters the room. 

“I want to know why you’re still in bed.” Riley responds, stepping over the clothes on the floor with an upturned lip. Half of them are Cat’s from the night prior. Riley seems to instantly realize this, likely because she’s known Ellie well enough to know that she doesn’t wear Capitol-made dresses. Riley puts her hands on her hips, frowning at her best friend who remains cuddled up against her– Cat. “The Reaping is today and you’re still in bed.”

“It’s in two hours.” Ellie is quick to point out.

“I don’t care if it’s in twenty hours, you’re getting out of bed.” She says, picking up Ellie’s discarded clothes from the floor and tossing them at her. They land where her legs are tangled with Cat’s underneath the thin plaid blanket that’s draped lazily atop them. Riley begins to walk out of the room with a pointed expression before calling over her shoulder, “Oh. And these are Marlene’s orders, by the way.” Then she shuts the door.

Ellie sighs heavily, not yet ready to get up. If anything, she cozies even closer against Cat’s bare chest as she once again listens to the comforting thumps of her heart.

“God, she’s so demanding.” Cat scoffs. “I don’t understand how you put up with her.”

“I barely can.” She responds, causing Cat’s eyes to widen at the unexpected concurrence. “But she’s taken care of me since I was a baby, I owe it to her.”

Cat’s initial shock instantly dissipates. “I don’t mean Marlene, Ellie. I’m talking about Riley.”

Ellie sighs once more, her lips thinning. She knows that Cat and Riley don’t exactly get along. Well. Okay, that’s a major understatement. They literally despise each other. In every aspect that Cat admires the Capitol, Riley loathes it. They butt heads all the time, only ever speaking when it’s absolutely necessary and, even then, it oftentimes ends up in fighting. Ellie tries her hardest to keep them as far apart as possible, hating when they speak ill of the other.

“I don’t want to talk about that right now.” She mutters, having to force herself to sit up. The plaid blanket falls from her shoulders, pooling around her waist. The cool air chills her and goosebumps instantly begin to adorn her fair skin. She quickly reaches to the foot of the bed to grab the clothes Riley had tossed her way. Cat remains in bed as Ellie stands to get dressed, pulling on a frayed hoodie and worn jeans. “I just don’t want to have to choose between you two, that’s all.”

As she laces her shoes, it’s hard not to take notice of Cat’s lack of response. Ellie lifts her head to see the frown that’s plastered onto her features, the sight of it causing her to sigh. She walks over to the bed, shoes lightly padding across the old wooden floor. She leans one hand on the mattress beside Cat’s head, her other coming up to lift her jaw. She presses a kiss to her lips.

“You know where I keep the key.” Ellie whispers, pulling back only slightly as her hand remains on Cat’s chin. “You can get back to sleep and leave whenever you want, yeah? You need rest.” 

Cat nods, “Okay.”

With one final kiss goodbye, Ellie leaves. On her way out the door, she grabs her backpack from under her desk, swinging it over her shoulder before shutting the door gently behind her. Not yet ready to part ways with Cat, she stands in the hall for a few long minutes, using this time to straighten out her thoughts. 

After the Reaping, Cat will be gone for an indefinite duration as the stylists are taken to the Training Center alongside the two tributes. Not to mention, if the opportunity is provided, she knows Cat wouldn’t hesitate to stay to live in the Capitol forever. And everyone knows how much they love her there. It’s truly a matter of time before she’s promoted to a full-time Capitolite. The mere thought sends a chill down her spine.

Ellie heaves a sigh, mentally cursing anything and everything that relates to their fucked up government before she turns to walk down the hall. Her shoes thud against the floor as she attempts to calm herself, the repetition of her stride mocking that of Cat’s heartbeat. Nigh tauntingly. 

Turning a corner, she spots Riley standing in the kitchen. Her back is facing her as she peers out the window at the passerbyers that straggle down the street. District seven isn’t usually this busy, most citizens at work by now. But it’s Reaping Day and therefore one of the few days of the year that everyone gets off work. Parents cater to their kids, teens get into mischief with their friends, pets are walked through the neighborhood. Though, regardless of how one’s morning is spent, everyone will be amassed in town square by two o’clock. If not, they’re to be imprisoned.

Ellie slows her movements, footsteps now inaudible before she jumps out at Riley, causing the other girl to shriek. She nearly drops the glass in her hands as she whips around to scowl at Ellie. “You scared me!” She reprimands her, frowning.

“Yeah,” Ellie laughs, “That was the whole point?”

Riley rolls her eyes at this. “Whatever.”

She leans forward to set the glass back on the counter, a light clink sounding throughout the space as she does so. Ellie had expected it to be a glass of water or some other form of drink. Instead, it’s a vase holding an array of flowers that Ellie has built the habit of collecting on their daily outings. At first, it annoyed Riley the way Ellie would stop whatever she was doing to pick a flower and stuff it between the pages of her journal. It would interrupt the flow of their expedition. Though, with time, she’s grown used to it and even finds herself taking notice of pretty flowers in Ellie’s absence.

“Are you finally ready to go?” Riley asks, turning back around to face her friend with her eyebrows raised. Ellie gestures down to herself — dressed and obviously ready. Riley chuckles, rolling her eyes fondly before brushing past her.

The two of them exit the small wooden home and begin their journey toward the treeline. Four buildings down, they pass Riley’s house. After graduation, they’d chosen this neighborhood due to its proximity to the woods and the fact that two houses were simultaneously for sale closeby. And here they are, three years later, still fleeing to the foliage every morning.

The low hum of conversation isn’t foreign to District seven, but it’s rather uncommon way out here. To get this type of commotion, you’d usually have to be closer to town where the markets are. That’s where most people spend their time, trading supplies. The circumstances aren’t nearly as dire as in District twelve, but they’re certainly not as wealthy as the Capitol. Starving to death here is rare, but not at all impossible. 

“So,” Riley speaks up after a few minutes of comfortable silence before turning to Ellie with a regaled expression, “You’re sleeping with Cat again?”

“I never stopped sleeping with her.” Ellie says pointedly. 

What she doesn’t say is, It’s just grown more common as you’ve grown more distant from me.

She sighs. “I’m not gonna give you shit for it because you already know how I feel about her. But I want to know, is she going to be a stylist again in this year's Games?”

“Ugh,” Ellie groans, “You know I’m not allowed to go around telling people. She’s technically not even supposed to tell me. We could be arrested for disclosing information about the Games prior to their airing. We could be made into Avox for it. And, I don’t know about you, but I quite like my tongue.”

“Yeah, so does Cat.” Riley adds with a disgusted expression.

Ellie laughs, slapping her in the arm. “Gross!”

“What’s gross is walking in on your best friend naked on top of some Capitolite.” She grumbles. 

“We weren’t even doing anything!” 

“Yeah, luckily!” She replies with a laugh before another repulsive thought dawns on her. “Oh, and you didn’t even lock the door!”

To that, Ellie has no excuse. “Well– Okay yeah, fine. That’s definitely on me.”

Riley grins at her victoriously as they continue down the sidewalk. The air is practically buzzing with activity. With naught else to occupy their time, the people of the lumber District naturally swarm toward the woods. It’s in their blood. Even more so for Ellie and Riley, who spend their mornings in the woods even when they should technically be applying for jobs.

Yeah, the two of them have received that lecture from Marlene more times than anyone could count — that they’re adults and should therefore be forming some sort of a career path before they’re rendered undesirably old to any future employers. But, unbeknownst to Marlene, the two of them do have a job. Perhaps not a formal one, but it’s enough to keep the bills paid and water running. And, to a pair of girls in their early twenties, that’s more than they could ask for.

See, Riley and Ellie have built a routine. One where they awake at dawn, meet up at Ellie’s house for breakfast, then walk to the woods and spend the following few hours there. They cut trees, chop wood, hunt animals, etc. Then, at noon, they head toward what’s known as the Hob — basically a black market for those desperate enough to trade their hard earned quarry for a bit of cash. It’s located inside an abandoned paper mill, packed full with hundreds of buyers meandering about the derelict space. Every District has their own version of a Hob, well, perhaps not the richer Districts, but twelve is sure to have a huge one that would make seven’s dull in comparison. That thought alone is enough to ease Ellie’s conscience whenever she feels guilty for the illegality behind her line of work. If any of the Peacekeepers in her District found out about the Hob, all participants are sure to be hanged or, at bare minimum, given a whipping — both of which would be public as to make an example of the persecutors. To imagine Ellie hanging from a noose or tied to a pole whilst everyone else watched, while Marlene watched? It makes her stomach churn. So, habitually, she simply ignores the lack of validity to her actions. Plus, there's no malice to her intentions. She’s just a young woman who wants to put food on the table. Is that so much to ask for? She thinks not.

Anyway. Riley and Ellie basically run that place. Everyone knows them there, recognizing the two women the instant they enter the mill. They always have the good shit — perfectly chopped wood alongside undamaged game — and are willing to be paid less than others because they tend to have a higher quantity and manage to amass a large sum in spite of their lowered payment. However, seeing as everyone is off work today, it’s rather awkward to see the people of the Hob out on the streets. Because they all know better than to acknowledge the illegal trading they participate in religiously. 

Ellie walks silently beside Riley, the unspoken tension in the air doubling in size whenever they recognize someone. The Peacekeepers are large in aggregate today as well, managing to make this impossibly more nerve wracking. The town square is packed full with Capitolites who are setting up for the Reaping, hence everyone now on this side of the District as they look for something to busy themselves with. And, as said before, the woods are evidently everyone’s collective first choice.

“You nervous?” Riley asks as they enter the woods, the familiar scent of pine and dirt wafting toward them. The air is chilly, yet not unbearably so. It’s a nice medium that Ellie finds herself enjoying. She turns, raising a brow in inquiry. Riley digresses, “For the Reaping.”

She shrugs, “Not really. The Hunger Games are morbid, yeah, but they’re a fact of life. If I get Reaped, what good will it do to have worried about it that morning? I feel that fate is predetermined. Whatever happens, you can’t change it so you might as well live regularly until it’s foisted upon you.”

“Um, wow?” Riley gives her a peculiar look. “Since when did you get all philosophical?”

Ellie huffs a laugh, “I’m just saying.”

“I agree that the Games are morbid.” Riley shakes her head with a sigh, dry leaves crunching under their feet as they trek further into the woods. “But why should we have to live in fear while those in the Capitol live in ignorant bliss? It’s immoral and dehumanizing.”

Ellie agrees with her, of course, though she finds herself glancing over their shoulder fretfully before turning to frown at her friend. “Be quiet, Riley. Peacekeepers are fucking everywhere today.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She huffs. “But I mean it.”

“Yes, I know you mean it.” Ellie rolls her eyes. “And I mean it when I say I don’t want to see you punished for your brutal honesty. Truly, it’ll be the death of you.”

Riley laughs before they fall into another comfortable silence. 

Despite the wordlessness being one of easement, it’s foreign to them both. As of late, Riley has been progressively growing more and more distant, causing an awkward rift between the pair. They still go about their usual routines each day and share moments of fond laughter, but it’s different. Only a few months ago, there’d not be a single second of silence as the two would oftentimes end up talking over the other in a coveted rush to share random information. Even after a day’s work had finished, they’d frequently wind up at one of their houses for the night — watching television, feasting on game, or just sharing the space. It got to the point where it was more rare to be without the other than with them.

But now, Ellie feels as though they spend more time in silence than in conversation. Take present for example. Had this happened in July, one of them would undoubtedly be rambling on about something. Though, as it turns out, that’s not currently the case.

Ellie has yet to bring it up to Riley, fearing she’ll say something she’s not ready to hear. She hasn’t even a guess in her mind what could have brought this upon them, but whatever it is, it’s drastic. Hence why she’s recently been hanging around Cat more often, using the woman to both distract herself from her childlike friendship issues as well as make herself feel better. Because Cat always knows how to comfort Ellie, even when she’s not entirely aware of what the problem is.

They continue to walk through the woods, their footsteps nigh inaudible as they’ve grown skilled at adapting to nature. After a few minutes of trekking through the foliage, Riley stops and turns around expectantly. Ellie instantly removes her backpack and crouches to the ground as she sifts through it. She pulls out an axe — which barely even fits inside the bag — and passes it to Riley, who takes it gratefully. Ellie then hands the bag to Riley, who positions it on her back with a few shoulder shrugs.

Where they stopped wasn’t randomized, though. Not entirely. Because, a few yards away is a fallen tree, hollowed out in the center to create a tunnel-like log. They walk over to it, Riley tossing the axe back and forth between her hands. Ellie crouches down and reaches into the log, feeling around the dampened bark until her fingers brush against the coveted items. She pulls out a bow and quiver, adding them to her newly emptied shoulders. 

See, they can’t exactly be caught carrying weapons through the District or the Peacekeepers will know they’re hunting illegally. So, as an alternative, they hide the weapons deep in the woods where nobody else would think to look. Fairly smart on their part, Ellie thinks.

“So,” Ellie muses as they begin walking through the woods once more, “This morning, you said you woke me under Marlene’s orders. What exactly did she say?”

“I talked to her last night.” She explains, swinging the axe back and forth. Had Ellie not done this with her a million times before, she’d likely be fearing for her life. But that axe is quite literally an extension of Riley’s arm, moving as though it’s a part of her. It's, admittedly, rather impressive. “She told me to make sure you’re awake at least an hour prior to the Reaping.”

“Ugh, she doesn’t trust me to do anything.”

“Can you blame her?” She laughs. “You were nearly late to the Reaping last year. Had you arrived less than five minutes after you had, the Peacekeepers would have placed you under arrest.”

“I think my timing was impeccable.” Ellie argues, pointing her chin up in an act of superiority. 

As she does, something in the trees catches her eye and she suddenly stops in her tracks, Riley quick to do the same. She nocks an arrow, the head instantly pointed in the direction of the movement. After a few seconds of tense silence, a squirrel chitters before ignorantly traipsing across the branch. She releases the arrow and it lands right in its eye, so as not to damage the meat. It hits the ground with a thud. Ellie grins widely as she walks to retrieve the corpse as well as the arrow.

“Talk about timing.” Riley whistles, following close behind.

“What did I say?” She responds, positioning the squirrel to hang from her belt. “Impeccable.”

“Yeah, maybe in terms of your aim, but not in your vigilance.” Riley points out.

“Whatever.” Ellie waves her hand to dismiss the accusation. “Shut up and go chop your wood.”

Riley laughs but obliges, turning to leave the scene. Ellie can’t even listen to her footsteps depart, as she’s rather adept at masking their boistry. But she can tell when she’s gone, though, because the atmosphere alters — shifting from one shared between lifelong friends to one of solitude in the middle of nowhere. And yet, despite the latter being far less preferred by many, Ellie relishes in it. The lack of eyes on her is comforting rather than eerie. 

She treks through the trees until she finds a slightly elevated patch of land, allowing her to look down on the forest below her — though, only by a couple feet. But any altitude is better than nothing. She crouches behind a bush and nocks a second arrow, waiting for something to pass by.

Ellie manages to shoot a few more squirrels and a couple of rabbits throughout the following hour they spend in the woods. She then lets out a three-note whistle as she stands to her feet. She’s brushing off her jeans when the same whistles tune is repeated back to her a few hundred yards to the East. Riley. 

They’d come up with this tactic a few years back, where once one of them had finished up for the day, they let out a whistle to let the other know of their completion. Then, if the sound reaches the other, they’ll return it.

They split up like this because Ellie requires quiet in order to hunt whereas Riley tends to make quite a bit of ruckus during her wood-chopping. Ellie’s still gathering her things when a twig snaps a few feet away. She doesn't need to look up to know who it is.

“What’d you catch?” Riley asks as she approaches her from behind.

“Nothing good.” She admits. “Just squirrels and rabbits.”

“That’s not bad, though.” 

“Yeah, animals are so scarce today due to all the people’s proximity to the treeline. I could sometimes catch the sound of their talking. Even from way out here.” Ellie says as she finishes packing up and turns to face Riley, who’s holding an armful of chopped wood. “Here, turn around.”

Without question, Riley does. Ellie unzips the bag and holds out a hand for a piece of wood. Riley passes it back to her and she loads the wood one-by-one into the pack. She then adds the axe and zips it — well, partially. A few inches of the handle remains sticking out, though it’s doubtful anyone will question the contents of the bag. Not when so much is going on today.

They head back to the mouth of the woods, making sure to return the bow and quiver into the hollowed log on their way by. In minutes, they’re emerging from the trees and walking back through the streets, which appear to have grown even busier in their absence. They’d walked in silence the entire way.

“Welp.” Riley says once they’ve reached Ellie’s porch and she’s returned the bag — which has tripled in weight with the addition of the axe and wood. “See you at the Reaping?”

She sighs dramatically, “I guess so. Not like I want to go anyway.”

“Marlene would fucking kill you.” Riley laughs and Ellie joins in, imagining the enraged expression on Marlene’s face had she not shown up. She couldn't get away with it regardless, though. Riley was right when she said the Peacekeepers would either imprison or hang her. It’s happened to someone before — an old man ripped from his home and put in an icy cold cell for the rest of his short life. He’d apparently used the excuse of saying he was in a wheelchair, but that wasn't enough for the District’s law enforcement as they claimed he could easily be wheeled to the square. So, yeah, maybe the jokes of Ellie not showing up shouldn’t be pondered on but so much.

Once Riley has left, Ellie grabs her key from the top of a nearby windowsill. She notices that it’d moved a few inches to the left. Cat. She unlocks the door and enters her home, almost screaming to see the silhouette of a woman standing in her kitchen. Though she quickly regains normalcy when she recognizes the person’s frame.

“Fuck, Marlene.” She curses, putting a hand to her chest as she — as subtly as possible — slips the bag from her shoulders and places it on the floor next to the door. “You scared me.”

Marlene is wearing a dress, a nice one. The neck is in a deep V shape that shows off her collarbones and shoulders. The sleeves come to her elbows, the skirt to her mid-calves. It’s a soft maroon color, complimenting her dark skin and brown eyes beautifully. Ellie would accolade her for it had she not known it was for the Reaping and thereby the Capitol. However, being aware of that fact rather mars the beauty of her accentuated appearance.

Marlene turns to face her with a frown, “What were you two doing?”

“Seriously?” Ellie groans, walking over to grab a glass cup from the cabinet over Marlene’s head, having to shift around her to do so. “I was hanging out with my best friend before we witness two people being shipped off to die. Do I truly have to walk you step-by-step through everything I do?”

“Yes.” She begins filling the cup with faucet water, Marlene looming like a shadow over her shoulder. When Ellie doesn’t respond, she frowns. “Whatever. I don’t even care what you guys were doing, I just seek the consolation of knowing it was safe.”

“I’m an adult, Marlene. When will you–”

“Was it safe, Ellie?” She repeats, tone growing more agitated. 

“Yes.” She replies, the lie coming easy to her now. After all this time of being untruthful, it’s nearly second nature to withhold the truth from her mother-figure whenever she’s pestered on this recurring topic. She has a great poker face, too.

 She raises her brows as she takes a sip from her glass, peering at her from over the rim.

“Was it legal?” She questions and Ellie nearly spits out her water. Marlene scoffs at her reaction. “Okay, so I got my answer.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“You didn’t need to!” She crosses her arms and gives Ellie that disapproving mom expression that could make anybody feel remorse. Ellie places her glass on the counter and holds her gaze, trying her hardest not to falter under it. “I assume you saw how many Peacekeepers are here, Ellie.”

“I’d be an idiot to not notice them.” She grumbles defiantly, sounding far more childlike than she’d care to admit. Marlene always manages to bring this side out of her — a scorned child who has no choice but to agree with everything she says. Despite how hard she tries to be mature and release herself from Marlene’s iron fist, it’s so far been proven impossible.

“So what were you thinking? I don’t care for the details of what you guys go out doing everyday so long as it’s legal.” She says. “You know that. It’s one of my only rules for you.”

The acknowledgement of their daily repetition is enough for Ellie to stiffen, not having realised Marlene even noticed their outings. However, now that she’s thinking of it, it makes sense. They've been doing this same routine for three years now. You’d have to be a fool to not notice. And Marlene is no fool.

“I know, I just–”

She pinches the bridge of her nose, cutting Ellie off with a sigh. “Just go wash up. I don’t want you smelling like a dead animal for the Reaping.”

The closeness in her comparison of the miasma to a corpse is nigh to laughable. Except it’s not. Because Marlene is unnerving. She cares for Ellie more than anything, yes, but she’s absolutely terrifying in her vehement need to protect her. 

But Ellie is an adult now. She doesn’t need protection.

Despite this, she follows her orders and trudges off to the bathroom, making sure to scoop up her backpack on her way down the hall.

She discards the bag of wood and lays the dead squirrel and rabbit corpses out on her bedroom floor. Normally, she’d place them in the kitchen to ready them for gutting but that’s, clearly, not a viable option. If Marlene were to see the quarry from their expedition, she’d absolutely lose her head. First, she’d force Ellie and Riley to get a job, and likely a boring one. She’d forbid them from using the forest for income. And, in those two short acts of discipline, Ellie’s life would be over. The woods are her home; her place of solace. Without it, who is she?

She then heads into the bathroom and takes a bath, scrubbing all the dirt and grime from her skin before redressing into something a bit more fancy — though it’s definitely not Capitol material as everyone else typically aims for. She’s simply wearing a nicer pair of jeans and a flannel. The collar and buttons make it fancy. Kinda.

When she returns to the kitchen, she’s still drying her hair with the towel. Marlene looks her up and down and frowns, though she says nothing. 

See, if one is Reaped today, they’re taken to the Capitol. As such, they’re traditionally expected to wear their nicest clothes to the Reaping, just in case their name is drawn. But Ellie cares naught to make any lasting impressions on the Capitol, so she doesn’t give a shit what she wears. The sole reason she’s wearing even a button up is to please Marlene enough so she’s not forced into something else. 

Because, when she was fourteen, she tried to wear a t-shirt to the Reaping and was instantly reprimanded. As punishment, she had to wear something Marlene picked out. Needless to say, never again will she do that. Even now Riley laughs at her for the outfit, though Marlene insists it was the most distinguished Ellie had ever looked. She begs to differ.

“Okay, you ready?” Marlene asks.

Ellie shrugs, “Yeah.”

They head down to the square, the entirety of District seven doing the same. The waves of people grow larger and larger the closer they get to the square until it’s practically a tsunami of them. Once they reach their destination, they pause and turn to each other. Marlene looks down at Ellie, a glint of something unreadable behind her gaze, almost as though she wishes to say something to her prior to parting ways. But instead of voicing whatever it is that’s weighing on her, she just pats her shoulder and walks away.

The crowd is sorted by generation. Everyone between the ages of twelve and fifty are required to be within the crowd as their names are among those able to be Reaped. The younger kids are positioned closest to the stage whilst the older crowd is near the back. Ellie stands with her age group, picking at the peeling skin around her nails as she awaits the ceremony’s exordium. 

The stage before them has been added purely for the Reaping, as it’s not usually present. Atop it resides a podium, a table with a bowl of tiny slips of papers, and three chairs at the back of the stage — one for the District’s mayor, one for the escort, and one for the mentor of this year’s tributes. Camera crews are perched like buzzards atop the neighboring buildings, readying themselves to document the coming show. Each District is going through the exact same procedure. Tonight, each footage will be broadcasted across all televisions in the country.

About twenty more minutes pass, the square growing supplementarily crowded with each passing second. When the clock strikes twelve, three people are in their corresponding chairs. Ellie hadn’t even noticed their arrival. 

The mayor, whose name she doesn’t know despite having heard it repeated throughout her entire life, sits in the far right chair, his jaw set as he overlooks the citizens. The District escort resides in the center chair, a Capitol woman with bright blue hair and a smile that’s so pearly white that it’s almost inhuman — Ellie doesn’t know her name either. The only person whose name she’s sure of is the man sitting in the left chair. That’s Joel Miller. The victor of the 56th Games. Word is, he’s not a pleasant man. Though, Ellie supposes no sane victor would be. Returning from a murderous arena after all other twenty-three tributes have fallen must be the emptiest feeling known to man. She has a deep respect for Joel, despite never having properly met him.

The mayor steps up to the podium and begins reading off his script. The story of how their country came to be. Ellie tunes it out, instead glancing around the crowd for Cat. It takes her an embarrassingly long time before she remembers that she’s absent from the ceremony due to her being the District seven stylist this year. Ellie turns back to the stage just as the escort steps up to the podium.

“Happy Hunger Games!” Says she. “And may the odds be ever in your favor!” 

The slogan has grown old and worn out by now, everyone having heard it an indefinite quantity of times. Ellie wouldn’t be surprised if she mumbles it in her sleep. 

Once more, she finds herself tuning out the rest of the woman’s speech. Despite her lack of listening not resulting in anything beneficial, it makes her feel better. Like she’s showing the Capitol that they don’t control her. Not like the Capitol gives a fuck if one measley twenty-one year old is tuning out the speeches. But whatever. It makes her feel ameliorated and that’s all that matters.

“Here we go.” The escort says before diving her hand into the bowl of names. The glass sphere is packed full with slips of paper, each one reading a citizen’s name. The entire square is holding their breath as they await the name. The entire country is — as every District is being Reaped at the same time. The woman pulls a slip of paper from the bowl and reads it aloud with a grin. “Riley Abel.”

Ellie’s heart drops to her stomach, body frozen in place as the name is spoken. The world feels far away as she watches Riley walk up the stage and stand beside the escort. Riley’s chin is held high, her eyes dullened; they lack the vibrancy that Ellie adores so much. She’s the epitome of strength, standing on that stage as she’s set to be broadcasted across the entire country. 

Ellie knows that expression though. Riley isn’t sad or mourning. She’s pissed.

Fuck. She should have done something. But it all happened so fast. And now the escort’s hand is diving right back into the bowl for a second tribute.

“Aaaand,” She sing-songs before lifting her head joyously, “Ellie Williams.”

11:46.

DISTRICT 4.

“Again.” Your mother’s tone is sharp as a dagger as she thumps the end of her cane against tiled flooring, demanding more, more, more from you. Her voice is tinny, filed through an intercom overhead. To your left is a one-way mirror that scales the entire 20ft wall, through which she pedantically watches your every movement. Though you’re unable to see her, she sees you. And that fact in itself is enough to make you vigilent.

Sweat coats your skin as you reposition yourself, squaring your shoulders and planting your feet in preparation. Your expression is hardened, purposefully so under your mother’s gaze. Her scrupulousness is nigh to tangible, made palpable by the heavy weight on your shoulders, the stiffness in your muscles, the tell-tale feel of her eyes scanning you. 

Then, in a flash of flickering blue, holographic opponents begin to charge at you. These humanoid figures are translucent in visibility, but their hits land just as genuinely in spite of their pellucidity. You’ve been fighting them all morning — another cause of the fatigue in your bones.

A few sessions prior, you’d been permitted the use of weapons. Your mother had instructed you to train with each one interchangeably. She wished to see which you were best and worst at — which ended up being throwing daggers and a trident, respectively. The daggers allow you close-combat, which you’re rather skilled at, as a product of these training sessions, whereas the trident’s weight is off balanced and leaves you fumbling with it for a few seconds prior to use. She soon grew bored with the weapons, though, and instructed you to fight bare handedly. Just to be sure you can. 

There are currently three holograms presented to you — one with a burly build, one with a dainty build, and one that resides between the two. 

The muscular opponent is the first to strike, swinging a right hook toward your jaw. You dodge it, ducking easily under its arm. Whilst straightening back up, the smaller figure grabs you by the hair. Your head is yanked backward. You whip around, snatching the figure by the wrist and throwing its body over your head onto the floor. It lands with a hard thud before you bring the heel of your boot down onto its throat. With a light puff of air, the hologram disintegrates.

One down, two left.

Without a moment’s pause, you spin around to face the other two diaphanous forms. The intermediate combatant surges forward, arm reeled back in preparation for a punch. You swerve out of its way, the figure staggering forward as it misses you by a mere three inches. You kick it in the back of the legs, sending the hologram on its knees. You’re positioned behind it, pulling it into a headlock. 

The sounds it makes is eerily human as it coughs and sputters, blue fingers grasping with desperation at your forearm. You’re used to this though, the cruel personification behind these lifeless things. You snap its neck with a deafening crack. It disappears.

Two down, one left.

When you turn around, the burly one is already behind you. It’s at least three times your size, but you’re undeterred. You stand upright and ready your fists. 

With a grunt, it charges toward you. You sidestep, but it anticipates this and turns in unison. You back away, putting yourself out of reach, your arms coming up to block your face. It swings and you duck subsequently. While crouched, you grab its left calf and pull, lifting the leg uncomfortably high. The oversized figure hops awkwardly on its right limb. You then hook your foot behind the ankle of the remaining leg it’s balancing on, sending it plummeting toward the ground. 

You’re quick to position yourself atop it, straddling the hologram’s chest. It thrashes beneath you, squirming around like a trapped insect. It’s only a matter of time before it throws you aside due to uneven weight advantages. But you had surprised it and therefore withhold the ascendancy. So, while you still have the upper hand, you lift your leg and drive your knees into its neck. With a gag, the hologram vanishes.

Done.

Your chest aches with exertion, lungs fighting for air as you pant. As such, you remain with your knees on the black matted floor in an attempt to catch your breath. You’ve been killing these things on repeat for the past three hours, your mother having woken you at seven in the morning to train. 

Frayed hair clings to dampened skin as sweat traces lines down your face. It drips from your chin onto the floor beneath you. Your pants and tank top are soaked, causing you to feel gross and sticky. You yearn for a shower.

You oftentimes have to remind yourself that your mother means well, that she’s pushing you so hard because she cares. But, at times like these — where your body is on the verge of collapse — you find yourself questioning her morality.

“You’re getting slow.” Comes her voice through the speaker system, as though on cue with your thoughts. A tap of her cane against the floor is heard prior to that singular word you dread so vehemently. 

“Again.”

It's truly no shock that you’re growing amble considering how long you’ve been at it. But to protest your mother’s orders would be a death wish. You’re still catching your breath as you push yourself to your feet, fully expecting another hoard of holograms to appear. 

Though, in their stead, a spear materializes before you. It’s equally as holographic as the figures you’re fighting, blue and crackling, but it kills them just as viable as you would.

As you lean over to pick it up, something kicks you hard in the base of your back. The force of impact sends you to the floor. Your elbows take the brunt of your fall, causing you to feel rather grateful for the mat. Still in a heap, you whip to face the perpetrator. A hologram; a singular female figure with a lean build. 

You should’ve known better than to let your guard down.

You glance at the spear concurrently, the weapon lying at a perfect distance between you two. Without vacillation, you hurriedly crawl toward it. The figure notices and kicks you hard in the face, its shoe slamming into the bridge of your nose. You land hard on your back as a wave of pain shoots through you, warm liquid tracing down your face. 

By the time you regain your sense, the hologram is thrusting the stolen weapon toward you. You roll out of its way, though the blade manages to slice your bicep. With a reverberated thud, the spearhead burrows into the mat where your head had just been.

You push to your feet, tugging the spear out of the cushioned floor. Now armed, you turn to the hologram. It doesn’t have a face but if it did, you’re sure it’d be glaring at you. The two of you circle one another like vultures, the hologram waiting for you to attack whilst you wait for the perfect angle. Then, once you’re positioned to your liking, you strike. You throw the spear at the diaphanous form. 

The blade whizzes through the air too fast for it to dodge, too fast for anyone to dodge. Your aim is undeniably precise as the point wedges right between your opponents eyes. With that, it disintegrates alongside the spear.

Even once the combatant has elapsed, you remain in that position — chest heaving, brows furrows, fists balled. A metallic taste fills your mouth as your nose continues to bleed down your face, getting past your lips. Your bicep mocks it, crimson tracing down your arm.

You await your mother’s reprimand via the intercom. Instead, you hear the door click open and her cane tap against the floor with every other step. She remains in the doorway, not wishing to enter the abhorrent room. She stands expectantly until you walk up to her.

“Your fatigue impairs your ability to fight.” She tuts, wrinkled lip upturned in distaste. You don’t respond, lowering your head as you wordlessly accept her criticism. “Had you been in the arena and those figures sentient, you’d likely have been long gone. Debility is no excuse for inadequacy. L/ns don’t lose.”

You nod, knowing better than to defend yourself.

She goes through each of your performances, telling you how every one was worse than the last. A few times, she mentions your brother, comparing the two of you in a way that makes your chest cave. Ruben wouldn’t have gotten his arm cut, Ruben wouldn’t have had his hair pulled, Ruben wouldn’t have hesitated when she added a child hologram into the mix.

Once she’s had her fill of castigation, she waves a hand to dismiss you. 

Your first course of action is to shower. Since your mother woke you so early, you were unable to change or eat prior to training. You enter the bathroom, peeling your sweaty clothes from your skin before stepping into the cool water. Your presence tints the liquid pink with blood as your arm and face stain its cleanliness.

You stand in the shower for a long time, relishing in the feel of the water as you allow your mind to roam. Though, despite how hard you try not to think of it, your thoughts continuously lapse back to your mother’s ceaseless mentions of your brother, her favored child.

See, Ruben won the 67th Hunger Games when he was only thirteen years old, becoming a legend in the Capitol and the light of your parents’ lives. He is the Capitol’s favorite victor, deemed the most attractive man in the country. Anyone would die to get a moment of his time, of his attention. People who the Capitol favor, idolize, and center their entire lives around are known as a ‘Capitol Diamond’. And Ruben is the shiniest of them all.

Your father won his Games two years prior to Ruben when you were only six, so you never knew him all that well. The memories you do have of him are rather bitter, invoking flashes of flailing fists and deafening shouts. Though, acting as a warm blanket to the chill of your father’s acerbity, Ruben appears in your memories like a deity. He’d cover your ears when your parents’ shouting bounced off the marble walls; he’d argue with your father whenever he’d hit you for breaking something trivial; he’d always take your side, even if you did technically break that vase. As a child, Ruben was an angel sent from above. But, now that you’re older, you know better than to deem him as such.

Anyway. Ruben and your father’s triumphs earned them both irrevocable places in the Capitol as diamonds as well as homes in District four’s Victor’s Village — leaving you and your mother to live alone in the house of which you were raised. In fact, your entire lineage is among the victors, aunts and uncles and cousins all diamonds of the Capitol and residents of the village. Well, most of them. Some of your relatives moved to higher Districts after their Games, seeking as much proximity to the Capitol as possible.

A L/n has never lost the Games, not in the entire seventy-three years they’ve been running. The mere thought of someone in your family failing to prevail is something unprecedented. 

You step out of the shower and wrap yourself into a towel, grabbing a suture kit from the cabinet under the sink. You pop it open and sit on the closed toilet seat before threading the needle. You’ve stitched yourself up plenty of times, the damned holograms annoyingly good at what they’re made to do — challenge you. 

By the time you’ve finished and your bicep is newly adorned in neat stitching, it’s one o’clock. You only have a short bit of time before the Reaping. As you put the kit back into the cabinet, a second thought dawns on you. 

Fuck! You think, eyes widening almost comically. Mister Alden will be here in ten minutes.

You tighten your towel around your body before padding down the hall to your bedroom. It’s overlarge, making you feel small. The walls are white with golden mouldings, the floors are made of marble tiles. To some, your family’s mansion would be a dream come true. Though, to you, it feels more like a prison than a home. It has ever since your brother left.

Your mother had an Avox lay your Reaping outfit out on your bed. It’s blue — as most clothing made for District Four is. It’s made of a deep navy satin, jewels embedded into the fabric. It’s absolutely gorgeous and you hate it.

Though, your personal thoughts on clothing matter naught. You once tried arguing with your mother on how extravagant your clothes were, saying it was ridiculous when people in lower Districts struggle for food. That comment earned you a week with minimal food. She said that if you pitied the peasants so greatly, she’d gladly treat you like one, claiming empathy to be far more valuable than sympathy. You’d never made another comment on your clothes again after that.

Though, you both knew her anger was rooted far deeper than your mere clothing preference. It was rooted in the underlying criticism you’d made in regards to the governing of your country — the unfair hierarchy of Districts. You never made a political comment after that, either. Not aloud anyway.

You pull the dress on, something symbolic always laced within the act of holding your tongue. 

Each curve and stitch is made specifically for your body, fitting perfectly. Trading fish in this gown will make for an odd sight, but you haven’t a choice. Mister Alden should be here any minute and the Reaping begins in less than an hour; multitasking is your only option.

The halls are just as pristine as your bedroom, walls decorated with fine art and the tile floor kept sparkling. Thanks to the unpaid Avoxes — which are former criminals whose punishments are to be made into servants for the Capitol. You live in the Districts, but your family is so cherished by Capitolites that you’re permitted to have an abundance of your own servants. Despite the fact that your mansion is tended to by over twenty Avoxes, you’ve never spoken to a single one. Not due to your own ignorance, but because their tongues are removed and they’re unable to speak.

One of them holds the door open for you on your journey out to the docks. You thank him shortly, though he doesn’t respond. 

Your house is beachfront, back porch providing a wooden path down to your own private piling dock. It’s unnecessarily fancy for your mother to inherit — who just happened to marry into a wealthy family — and you, who hasn’t even become a victor yet. And, if you’re never Reaped, you’ll have never deserved an ounce of what’s been given to you.

The path to the dock is a downward slope. Your house is built on a rocky cliff, hence the path’s existence. You hike your dress up as you rush down the wooden trail, though as soon as you do, you hear your mother’s past lectures ring through your head. “Never above the ankles!” She’d once said, slapping your hand with a stick to force you to drop the dress. Instinctively, you lower it.

You walk down to the dock, happy to see that it’s empty, Mister Alden not having yet arrived. Though, once you’ve reached the end of it, you hear the low hum of his boat’s motor putting through the salty water. He coasts up to the wooden structure. You reach out to catch him as the motor comes to a halt.

His boat is small, just big enough for one man to fit in. It’s made of metal with only one seat at the helm, situated beside the tilling outboard. 

Your family has bought from mister Alden all your life. When you were a kid and it was Ruben’s job to retrieve the fish, you would traipse behind him. You’d hobble behind him, small legs having to run in order to keep up with your elder brother's long gait. Then, once at the dock, you were rendered useless. You’d peer over mister Alden’s boat, nosily searching his belongings. You watched as Ruben would speak to mister Alden shortly, pay him graciously, hoist the net of seafood over his shoulder, then head back inside. Due to this, mister Alden watched you grow more than your own father had. And even though his presence is short and biweekly, you know the old man rather well.

Well enough to know that he has three grandkids and the oldest of them is a twelve year old girl whose first ever Reaping is today. 

“Oh, what a lovely outfit.” He smiles, crows feet creasing. He remains seated as you moor the boat to the cleats. The metal is so hot from endless days spent in the sun that it burns your hands at the touch. You don’t dare wince, knowing how fast mister Alden would rush to your aid. You’re sure he has enough on his plate what with his granddaughter. “I can carry the fish inside, if you’d like. Wouldn’t want you staining such a stunning dress.”

“It’s okay.” You’re quick to assure him, offering your hand to help him out of the boat once it’s tied off. He takes it, the man nigh senile in his old age. His hand shakes slightly as he steps onto the dock. “I can get the fish, mister Alden, I don’t mind.”

He smiles kindly, “You remind me so much of your brother.”

You don’t respond. You know he’s only saying that out of kindness, he has to be. Your mother ceaselessly reminds you of how different the two of you are. You try to ignore the comment as you lean over the boat to pull the huge net of fish from the creased hull. They’re blue in color, almost mimicking that of your dress, though their scales shine silver in the sunlight.

“Did you ever hear the story of Ruben’s first Reaping?” Mister Alden asks as you drop the net onto the dock, pausing to converse with him for a while despite knowing it’s a bad idea with your lack of time. “He only attended two Reapings, that poor boy. But his first one, I’ll never forget. It was the first time I met your mother, too, the nasty woman. He was out here retrieving fish, as our exchanges always seem to fall on Reaping Day. He was only twelve, but so determined to carry the fish all on his own. I offered my help at least a hundred times, to which he refused each one. He was strong, though, for his size. He managed to carry them all the way to the porch before the net caught on a twig and the fish fell all the way back down the pathway. Every single one.”

Your eyes widen. You recall this, though the memory is rather blurry to you as you were only seven at the time. That, and also because most of your memories with Ruben are tainted, not to be trusted in your bias. 

“What’d my mother do?” You ask, unable to help your childlike curiosity from rearing its head.

“Well,” He chuckles, though it lacks any sense of humor. “She wasn't happy, that’s for sure. Ruben instantly began to cry when he saw the effects of his mistake. I tried to assure him that it was okay and I could always deliver more fish, but he said that’s not why he was sad. He wasn’t mourning the loss of the fish. Instead, he was terrified of what your mother would do to him.” Mister Alden shakes his head, grey brows turned in an expression of dispirit. “No child that small should fear his own parent so vehemently.”

You frown. In every aspect where your mother lacks morality, mister Alden has a myriad of it. The old man is practically overflowing with sympathy at all times. He’d always treated you and Ruben as his own, offering comfort whenever you seek it and kind words whenever you forget they even exist.

Just as he’s about to continue his story, your mother’s voice is heard. It’s shrill as she shouts your name. Chills trace down your spine at the sound. Mister Alden gives you a pitying expression before you pass him a small pouch of coins for payment, lift the net over your shoulder, and begin the trek back up to your porch. The sound of his motor starting up carries through the air as you approach your mother.

She’s wearing a baby blue dress, just as fancy as yours — if not more. Her usual wooden cane has been swapped out for a fancier golden one. Her hair is done up in a neat braid, gold heeled shoes adorning her wrinkled feet. 

She shoots you a scowl before entering the house, dropping the door on you despite knowing you’re carrying a huge weight of seafood. It slams into your side, the corner of it landing on your stitched bicep. You wince, struggling for only a moment before an Avox rushes to your aid and holds it wide for you. You don’t dare thank her in front of your mother.

You enter the kitchen, placing the bag of fish onto the marble counter.

“We have less than twenty minutes before the Reaping!” She spits, rage evident in her tone as she watches you set it down. “Your feet are dirty and bare, your hair is matted, and you reek of fish!”

“I didn’t—” You begin, though you’re quick to stop yourself, remembering her order of not speaking unless asked to do so.

A sharp pain shoots through your cheek as she slaps you across the face for having spoken out of turn. You lower your head, mouth now sealed shut. She turns to give orders to the Avoxes — instructing two of them to put your hair up, one to put your shoes on, and three to gut and clean the fish prior to your return from the Reaping.

They’re quick to do so, rushing around to oblige.

You’re directed to a stool, two servants doing your hair into some intricate design whilst another crouches in front of you to slip on your shoes. They’re a pair of silver heels that match the jewels on your dress. In record time, the other two complete the updo, holding out a hand mirror for you to examine the design. Two thin braids wrap around the crown of your head, a neat bun resting at the nape of your neck. It’s beautiful considering how little time they had.

“I love it.” You whisper, quiet enough only they can hear it.

Your mother approaches you, thankfully not having heard your words of thanks. She circles around you, looking at the hairdo before she tuts, “It’ll do.”

The journey to the town square is only a few minutes. Though, as you walk beside your mother in deafening silence, it feels like an eternity. Everyone knows who the two of you are, the entirety of the Capitol fond of your family lineage. Their eyes are wide as they watch you and your mother pass through the streets. See, due to your partnership with mister Alden and your large quantity of Avoxes, neither of you ever leave the house unless it’s mandatory, which only adds to the peoples’ astonishment. Not to mention your unnecessarily extravagant clothing. Most people are only wearing plain gowns or linen shirts whereas you two look like you’re about to meet a monarch. It’s humiliating.

Your mother loves the attention, basking in it. You, on the other hand, feel as though it’s rather embarrassing.

You reach the square and part ways with her, wordlessly joining your respective age groups.

Your shoulders are set and your chin is raised as you know everyone is staring. Their gazes feel like spiders crawling all over your body. You fucking hate it, the prestige. Especially since you didn’t do anything to deserve it. You were just born into the family. To you, nothing makes you any different from the people living in the hovels of your District. Even in other Districts. The only thing that separates you from a starving child in Twelve is chance.

Mayor Marriott steps up to the podium and she tells the story of your country’s origin. You already know it by heart, having been taught by your father to memorize it at a young age. Her hair is platinum blonde, younger than most District mayors, though she’s just as strict. Her father was the mayor before her, causing her to take over the career. You oftentimes wonder if she hates lineage inheritance just as much as you do. You doubt it.

Following her speech comes the District escort. You know her by name, you know everyone in the Capitol by name. That’s Alice Reymond. Her hair is bigger than her head, her eyes adorned by lashes longer than her fingers. Capitolites are fucking weird, looking more like disfigured abstract pieces than human beings.

“Happy Hunger Games!” Exclaims Alice Reymond. “And may the odds be ever in your favor!”

She goes on to tell a speech on how much of an honor it is to serve as this District’s escort. Though every escort says that, you’re sure she means it more so than any others. Escorts are paid based on how many victors their District is able to produce. And, what with your family’s abundance of them, you’re sure she’s swimming in more cash than even District One’s escort is. However, more importantly, the bragging rights must be immeasurable.

Behind the podium of which she stands, mayor Marriott watches with a piercing gaze. Her blue eyes are intimidatingly sharp as she overlooks the crown. Though, the man sitting in the mentor’s chair has a gaze even sharper than she. 

Ruben. Your brother.

He’s tasked with training and keeping the tributes alive each year. He’s rather good at it. And, even when he fails, nobody blames him. How could they when he’s so perfect? You tune out Alice Reymond’s speech, taking in the sight of your brother after having not seen him in years. The closest you’ve gotten to talking to him is watching interviews on the television. 

His features are almost a perfect copy of yours — the same nose shape, same hair and eye color, same lips. But he’s got a certain look to him that erases any sort of similarities you two happen to share. A certain Capitolistic look. His eyes are highlighted with golden eyeliner, all the wrinkles in his face surgically removed. The brother you’d cherished all those years ago no longer exists. In his place sits the shell of a man. A Capitolite and thereby not your brother.

“Here we go!” Alice Reymond grins, yanking your thoughts back to the Reaping. She then begins digging her inhumanly long fingers through the bowl of names. She pulls out a slip of paper and smiles widely before calling it out. “Remy Wilson!”

The crowd murmurs lowly, looking around for the owner of the name. A pause. Nobody steps forward. Then, two Peacekeepers suddenly storm into the crowd and rip a little boy from his parents. The boy, Remy, is frozen in place, unmoving. The Peacekeepers pull him up to the stage. He’s crying, as he stands on the elevated space, trembling under the gazes of the District. Of the country.

He can’t be older than twelve. His cheeks are rounded, his big brown eyes even rounder. His skin is pale with a rosy nose, his wavy hair is an ashy brown that forms a messy crown of innocence around his head. Ruben is watching the boy closely, likely examining whether or not he’ll survive the arena. The answer is obvious, though. This child won’t be making it out.

“And for our second tribute,” Continues Alice Reymond. She pulls another paper from the bowl, her eyes widening slightly as she reads it. A great, pearly smile splits across her face before her spider-like eyes land on you. Your heart sinks.

You already know what she’s going to say when she calls out your name.

[post] notes!! While dual POV will be in this story, this is the only time I'll be showing two perspectives of the same event. This chapter followed Ellie and the reader both experiencing the reaping. It was needed for the plot but grew repetitive at the end, I promise this is the only time that'll happen 🤞 Also, this was a shit ton of exposition & I apologize for that, but the backstory of both characters are very needed. You def needed to see Ellie's relationship w everyone around her as well as have explanatory bg with the reader's family and everything. Also x2, I hope the amount of dialogue in Ellie's pov made up for the lack thereof in the reader's pov. I hate reading huge paragraphs of straight monologue so I try to refrain from writing it, but sometimes it's unavoidable (bc reader literally has nobody to talk to) Anyway, hope you enjoyed!!

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 perm. taglist @luvsturniolo @kasqnxx @xlovla @ilovewomenfr @zzombiegirl @shawangel @defnoteleonor @fatbootymuncher @autisticintr0vert

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 series taglist @kirammanss  @dsybouquet   @serraphinm   @smellovie.   @sakiigami.   @opt1mistic.   @spacecinnamonbuns.   @clouded-whispers.    @sapphicarribean   @corpsebridenightamare. @jaliyah-s. @pixiec4t. @chappellroankisser

[me-and-your-husband]

widow's bite masterlist

summary: "...the dangerous Black Widow is to be approached with caution, as the Black Widow's bite can cause death. she encases her victims with silk, then kills with poison from her fangs."

or

you're a black widow. you're sent to kill Spider-Woman. something inside of you just can't do it.

warnings: smut in future chapters, ellie is 18 and reader is 19, dreykov being gross which is canon, mentions of suicide attempt, canon death (sarah), swearing maybe? probs more, not proofread cause i'm lazy

part 1

[millersfinest]

untethered⁵ | e.w

00s!ellie williams & 00s!miller!reader

wc: 10.6k

series: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five (you're here!)

blurb: it’s been awhile since you’ve been back home; in upstate new york where you’ve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that moo’d and meh’d. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinner—a troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.

cw: lmao flip phones, r and ellie NOT beating the cheating allegations, more use of y/n then i would prefer, she/her pronouns, vulgar language, some angst (not on ellie’s watch tho), fuckgirl!ellie (kind of), the millers, r is a writer (she doesn’t write much in this ch wink wink 3.0), using fuck as a conjunction word, ellie needs the reader bad, a few arguments sprinkled in, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, r is very anxious, hella angst, the CAT may be out the bag (can mean many things), some adoption related turmoil, emotional cheating (from ellie), cute mother daughter moment, repressed emotions, lots of angst in this chapter, ellie is mean when she don't fw you, not a lot of reader x ellie in this ngl.

note: finally the 5th installment, hope it's worth the wait my lovely readers!!! i'm gonna be honest tho... this wasn't the most fun chapter to write (maybe cause the reader and ellie aren't as horny as i would prefer lmao), but the narrative shall prosper regardless of my feelings. this may or may not be the second to last chapter of this series. idk yet, i'm still planning right nowwww. i might post a poll soon to help decide. anyway, thank you guys for being super patient while i wrote this chapter, so without further ado... thousands of bisous ofc <3 and please enjoy this angsty ass chapter!!

Stood before you was a very disappointed looking Joel. His deep brown eyes squinted with fatigue and restlessness; arms crossed over his chest. At the alert of his presence, you shut your eyes trying to come up with some way to save yourself—even though there was none. It was laugh worthy, really.  

I don’t wanna assume nothin'… So, I suggest you start explainin’ what in the hell’s bell’s is goin’ on here.

You were unsure if his southern accent was stronger because of his disappointment, or if he just sounded like that when he was tired. But, either way, the question was valid. What the hell was going on?  

He called your name, snapping you from the rushing thoughts in your head. “Huh?” Those words came out of you more like a sound than words and letters. you were a child all over again, struggling under the fist of authority. Followed by a deep sigh, walking toward the counter, leaning your hands on the cool, smooth marble top. “Ellie and I are… Just catching up. S’all there is to it, Joel.”

He echoed a sigh, running his hand over his dark, graying hair and beard—he didn’t believe you. Not that you even tried to come up with a good enough lie that would be believable. “Now, Bug…” Joel began, shaking his head. “I know you’re not a liar; Tommy and Maria sure as hell didn’t raise you to be one—“  

“Joel, please—“

“If I heard what I think I heard… In that bedroom of yours. You and Ellie were doin’ a lot more than just catching up!” He whisper-yelled, careful not to disturb your parents upstairs. The man could barely keep eye contact with you, pointing his finger, accusingly. “She has a girlfriend who is in that guesthouse—“  

“I know, I know—“  

“Then, what the hell were you thinkin’?”  

You solemnly sigh, having your actions thrown back in your face. It sucked because he was right. “We… We have unfinished history. It just happened.”  

Joel scoffed, averting his brown eyes. “Things like that don’t just happen…”  

He was right—sex doesn’t just happen. There are steps that lead to that pleasurable event; it doesn’t just happen, and you knew that. But it was easier to say it that way. As if the two of you sleeping together, kissing each other was all acts of fate and prophecy. Something you had no control over. Even though, control was never stricken from you. If anything, you were always grasping for it.  

You chose to invite Ellie into your room, into your body, into your mind—you wanted her more than anything.  

That was something you couldn’t be sorry about.  

“Please, don’t tell my parents.” You almost squeaked out, looking up at him like a child charged with punishment. If Maria and Tommy found out about this, she’d have your head! And Tommy will be trying to talk her down—it would be a mess. At twenty-five, it wasn’t that you were afraid of your parents; you just didn’t want to disappoint them. “We need some time to figure this out…”  The fear that they would regret bringing you into their life weighed heavy on you.

With a raised eyebrow, he pursed his lips in thought. “Does Ellie plan on breaking things off with Cat?”  

“Yeah, not right away, but yeah.”  

“Not right away?”  

“Thanksgiving— she doesn’t wanna do it today with everything goin’ on. And they live together, so she has to arrange a few things…” You trail off, deepening your eyebrows with worry. “Oh, my God… Is she two-timing me? Is Ellie two-timing me?” Slapping your hands to your forehead, you squeezed your eyes shut. What the fuck. What the fuck. You repeated curses in your mind.  You were spiraling yourself into a stupor.

Joel walked around the corner, stabilizing you by placing his hands on your shoulders. “Ellie is many things, but she’s not a two-timer… All I’m saying is to handle this with caution. You’re hurting another person doing this—“  

“Fuck, Joel, I know… I don’t need the reminder.”  

“I’m gonna talk to her about this… About resolving this.”

You look at him with a pointed glare. “Resolving— there’s nothing to resolve. If everything goes according to plan—“  

He grunted, rolling his eyes. “Things like this never go to plan. Come on, Bug, you’re smarter than this… You know better.” Joel told, narrowing his eyes. He walked around the counter to you, to squeeze your shoulder. But that didn’t change the fact that his words stung.  

You know better.  

You did know better, but you acted anyway. Perhaps, it was a mistake; it was a mistake you were willing to ride on until it met its end. Which could be one of two things: complete and utter destruction, or… Happiness. Why was there such a large gap between those two endings?  

“Ellie,” He began, shaking his head, filling you with insecurity. “You know how she can be… Impulsive at times.” Joel pressed his lips into a line, looking past you, in thought. “I’m not even sure if she realizes the gravity of what she’s doing to her or you— not until it blows up in her face, which it will if you two keep it up.”

So, the both of you just had to work harder at hiding it. For now, at least.  

He rubbed his hand together, glancing his eyes up the stairs. “I won’t say anything to your parents… Just do a better job of keeping this to yourselves, please.” The older man prepared to head back up, but he looked at you one last time. “This isn’t me agreeing with what y’all are doin’— because I don’t. I don’t agree nor do I support cheating.” He exhaled, shaking his head, disappointingly. Feet nearing the steps to ascend back to his bedroom. “Just get it together.”  

Joel left you to gather your thoughts—but there was nothing to gather. Your mind was already made; you’ve already dug a hole for yourself. Seeing it through was the only option. Perhaps, the two of you had to shape up, though. Tommy even gave a side glance before you’d hopped off the porch to grab the wine; Ellie needs to be more careful. And so do you.  

Shutting out the lights, you heavily creeped back up the stairs to your bedroom. The dim bedroom that had the remnants of your lover minced in the air… And under your pillow. Grabbing your laptop from the charger, you arranged your pillows to support your back—that’s when you noticed the red and white striped boxer shorts Ellie left behind. Even though, you purposely threw them at her to put on before you parted from one another.  

Holding out the underwear that was marked with arousal, you threatened to smell it. Truly. But, before you could, your conscience got the best of you. Wasn’t it creepy to smell someone’s underwear? Let alone, a woman's... Instead, you stuffed it in the box you kept under your bed—which, very well, could’ve been worse.  

Feeling the need to tell Ellie of their pending situation with Joel, you logged onto MySpace. There was a small green circle that appeared on her icon. She was already online.  

BugsWritersRoom: Hey… Just ran into Joel. Not great.  

There wasn’t a much of a long wait before she responded.  

StarlightWilliams: duck what happened?  

StarlightWilliams: fuck*  

Her correction made you chuckle.  

BugsWritersRoom: He heard us. That’s what happened.  

BugsWritersRoom: We have to do better. Stop making everything so obvious…

BugsWritersRoom: At least, until you break up with Cat.  

There was a long pause in her responses. Longer than you’d anticipate her response would take.  

StarlightWilliams: noted.

Ellie’s response was dryer than you expected it to be, but the fatigue washing over you forbid you from investigating it.

Shutting your laptop, you nuzzled into your pillows with the auburn-haired artist on your mind. It was only right that you gave the relationship another chance; if it inevitably ends, you just hope it would be less explosive than last time. Amicable. Where the two of you could actually stand to be around each other after the fact.

If you had it your way, though, you’d never want to part from her again. It was easy to believe that Ellie was your person. Somebody who was only perfect for you. In a world of feeling nothing, she made you feel something more than lust or forced romanticism.  

When morning came, you were exhausted as fuck, to say the least. Awakened by your programmed alarm, and a blaring rooster that didn’t know how to shut the hell up after his first few yodels.  

Meandering down the stairs, you were told to speed through the morning chores, to begin help with the cooking, which you didn’t mind. However, Ellie wasn’t there for the spiel. Joel had appeared, saying that she was going to be little late. At the sight of him, you couldn’t help but be struck with anxiety. Although, he looked and acted the same as he always did.

Either way, you fed the chickens, groomed, and fed the horses—and that’s when she found you. Brushing Tokyo and feeding fresh carrots to keep him entertained and focused. He was a horse who only responded to pleasantries; Tokyo was a man of high honor. “Someone’s bein’ a good horse.” Ellie cooed, approaching you and Tokyo with her hands stuffed in the pockets of her jeans.

There was something off about her demeanor. Her shoulders were stiffened, cheeks flushed enough to insinuate an altercation. In addition to that pinched line between her thick eyebrows.  

There definitely was one, but she wasn’t going to admit that to you. Joel and Ellie were officially on bad terms—but she said nothing about that because she doesn’t want to alarm you.  

“Where were you this earlier? I thought I was helping you get in routine for your new farmhand position…” You tossed the brush aside, crossing your arms over your chest. Ellie didn’t stop walking until her body collided with yours. Hand finding a comfortable place along your jaw, preparing to pull you in toward her lips. Placing two fingers over her lips, you pull back. “What the hell are you doing?” You chuckle, looking around for any unwanted eyes.

Her hands slid down you arms, shoulder slumping. “What part of we need to do better do you not understand?” You questioned, looking intently into her dilated eyes.

Ellie ran a hand over her hair, sighing, tiredly. “What is wrong with you?” You press, deepening her eyebrows.  Suddenly feeling the need to comfort her.

The truth was, she was stressed. Joel had stressed her out. He found out about them and was pressing Ellie to tell Cat about it—or break up with her because she deserves to know the truth. But, today, Cat woke up like the happiest person alive, which was off brand for her. She showered Ellie with kisses she didn’t want and hopped up to make breakfast for them. It was weird, but she was happy; Ellie doesn’t want to ruin that. She just wanted to linger in the happiness that was the memory of your lips on hers.

“I just woke up feelin’ funky— it’s nothing…” She looked down, twisting her foot into the sprawled hay over the ground. “A kiss could help my condition, though…” Ellie raised a scarred brow, lips curling at the end.  

Pressing your lips into a line, you look over her shoulder than yours—making sure there aren’t any prying or peeving eyes. “Just one…” You mutter, pulling her close by the material of her unzipped jacket. She smirked against your lips, moving them in sync with yours.

The tenseness in her muscles loosened and relaxed under your touch, as she released a breath of fresh air against your face through her nose. Placing her soft, yet calloused hand at the curve of your jaw. Ellie made the kiss deeper by dragging her tongue against your bottom lip, begging for more—but you pulled away. She chased your lips, causing you to giggle as you turned your face. “I have a full plate this morning… I could use your help— as long as you stay focused!” You prodded your index finger at her chest. “Plus, it’ll help for when it’s just you on the farm.”

“Oh, I can stay focused.” She crossed her arms, overzealously.  

“Okay,” You snicker. “Well, why don’t we split up to cover more ground?”  

Her features fell. “Split up? Hey, I didn’t agree to splitting up.” Ellie pouted, taking a step closer to you. Playing with the frayed hem of the flannel sticking out from under your jacket.  

Splitting up was the best course of action, so you could begin helping your mother in the kitchen—because you know she needs it. Unless Cat’s planning to take your place on that front. Anyway, them splitting up could help their developing case with Joel. You want to prove to him that you’re as smart as he think you are. That you’re not blindly love struck by a destructive idea—that the words he told you meant something. And, in a way, helping Ellie with her impulsivity.  

“It’s for the best, Els. You get to put to work what you learned these past few mornings— so it’ll really stick.” You spoke, positively. “And there’s another half of the farm that you’re inexperienced with… So, it’s better if I just run through it alone.” You nod with a friendly smile on your lips. Almost too friendly.  

“Hm…” Ellie hummed, peering around the horse barn.  

“I already did half the work; the chicken’s and horses are already fed. I’m, basically, done with grooming Tokyo— just detangle his mane and tail, and do that same process with Sarah, which should be easy because she’s still a baby and barely has any hair.” You rambled like a professional farmer. It truly was muscle memory getting back into the chores.  

“Wait, what’s the process…?”  

“There’s a bucket of soap and water,” You point to the bucket at door of the horses’ space. “Use that to help with the brushing and detangling. That’s the process. Don’t worry about the horse shoes— my dad does all that.” You waved your hand, then reached into your coat to grab the notepad. Ripping the thin paper from the rings, you hand it over. “After this, all you have left is the garden. So, whenever you’re done, come find me.”  

Ellie took the note paper from your hands, plucking it with her fingers. “Uhm, if I have any questions…? What if I do something wrong?”  

You sighed, snatching the paper back from her. “Trust yourself. You’ve done this before, Ellie. But if you have any questions… Here’s my cell. I have it on me.” You scribble down your phone number, handing it back to her.  

She giggled, taking the paper back. “You just gave me your digits…” Ellie teased, dangling the page in front of you.  

“For professional purposes only.” You winked, before leaving her to finish the horse grooming.  

When you skipped away, Ellie didn’t quite know how to take your place. After finishing up Tokyo, walking him to his open space to grift along with the other horses, Sarah was next. And you failed to mention that she was a bit of runner when it came to retrieving her.  

It’s been made clear that she was already fucking up—said by Joel Miller—so, she didn’t want to fuck up the only job she had. The job you gave her.  

So, instead of moping and overthinking the words of her adoptive father, she looked to that lined notebook paper as if it were the Bible. Ellie couldn’t let you down over something as specific as farming chores. These were living beings. If she failed to do this correctly, you may never fall into her how she hoped

Meanwhile, you hustled cows and goats, hastily. Rain boots splashing into mud and manure, leaving marks along its battered rubber soles. Tucked into your back pocket, your phone began to vibrate, sounding off the ringtone of your choosing. Without glancing at the caller ID—assuming it was Ellie. You pressed the phone button.  

“Calling already?” You raised an eyebrow, while monitoring the chaotic goats around you. They were competitive eaters who’d rather trample over one another to eat their food, than stand by for their own servings. You scold them under your breath, pushing them off each other.  

“You want me to come to dinner tonight, or not?” She snickered on the other side of the line.  

“Oh, Abby, hey… Sorry that was meant for someone else— it’s been a long morning.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, shaking your head. “Yeah, I still want you to come. What’s up?”  

Abby laughed, yawning. Did she just wake up? “When’s your family having dinner tonight— wanna make sure I’m planning accordingly.” There was raspiness to her voice that was soothing to your ears.  

Rubbing a hand over your forehead, you thought. It was basically undetermined, but you had dinner around the same time every year. Six-ish. Seven-ish. “Sometime around six, I think. What? You plannin’ on makin’ a good impression?” Pinching the phone between the side of your face and shoulder, you pulled one of the goats back from the trough by her back legs.

“Stop it, Frankie!” She bleated in response.  

“Was that a goat I just heard?”  

“No, it was Frankie— she’s worse than a goat. She’s, like, goat-fucking-three thousand— fuck! Hold on.” She placed the phone on a bucket, to stalk over to the problematic goat trying to fight her own sibling. “You’re pushing it. You are pushing it, Francine Miller!” Gripping the antlers that rose from her skull, you forced her to look at you. “This isn’t your food— that’s your food. Over there.”  

Picking her up, wrapping your arms around her stomach, you lifted her toward her own trough. That a few other goats huddled at to feast on their breakfast. “If I see you over there bothering your brothers again, I’m gon’ put you right back in that barn— don’t mess with me.”

You walked back to that bucket, picking up the small silver flip phone placed sloppily in the middle. “Sorry about that… But, yeah, sometime around six.” A tired sigh fell from your lips.  

“That southern drawl of yours… Getting stronger by the day.” She chuckled, in amusement. You heard her shuffling against cloth—perhaps, blankets and pillows.  

“The price of being around my family for too long.” You match her brief chuckle, twisting your toe into the dirt.  

“I’m certainly not complaining.” Abby commented, inhaling deeply. “Well, I’ll be there for six— unless you tell me otherwise…”  

“All right, sounds good, Abby.”  

“All right, bye, babe.”  

Babe.

The pet name made you freeze, but before you could say anything, she hung up the phone. You clenched you phone in your hand, gripping it tight enough for the blood to drain from your knuckles. Babe—since fucking when?  

A snicker caught your attention, causing you to swivel around on your toes. Her shiny, obsidian hair was tucked under a knit beanie. The medium-length blunt ends sticking out from the bottom, hanging over the shoulders of her jacket. A jacket that was sickeningly similar to one of Ellie’s—it most likely was.  

“Who’s this lucky girl… Abby?” She perked a slender eyebrow, brown eyes boring through you. Slightly squinting with taut features.  

You waved your hand before placing them on your hips. “A girl I met in the city. She’s up here with some friends— thought I’d invite her to dinner. She's the one who dropped me off the other night.” You explained, shrugging at your last word. After sleeping with her girlfriend, the least you could do was open with her.   

Cat leaned over the wooden fence, instead of coming inside. Her hands balling together in front of her body to keep her exposed skin warm. “Oh, really? What’s the status between the two of you? Since you’re… Inviting her to Thanksgiving dinner ‘n all?” She questioned, lips pressing together.  

There was something bitter in her speech that rubbed you the wrong way. But, nonetheless, you answered. “It’s complicated…” A laugh falls from your lips—fake and deceiving. “It’s been off and on for about a year— believe it or not.”  

“I believe it.” Cat chortled behind a fist. “Dating in New York is hard. People just don’t take relationships seriously anymore— I totally get it.” Her eyes rolled as she spoke, shiny lips curling at the corners.  

Awkwardly, you nod. Her tone alarming you once more. “Yeah… Well, I need to get back to this— the quicker this is over the better.”  

“Right…”  

“Are you planning on helping the parents cook, or…”  

She crossed her arms, lips frowning, slightly. “Yeah. Later, I’m helping Joel and Tommy with the steak. I’ve never really cooked steak before so… Wish me luck.” Cat chuckled, stepping back from the fence. “I’ll let you get back to work, though…” She began to walk off, after you waved, halfheartedly. Pausing in the well-kept grass, she looked over her shoulder. “Could you point me in the direction of my girlfriend? I’m sure you know where she is.”  

Hm.  

“Uh, yeah, sure— She’s either in the horse barn or the greenhouse… I would check the horse barn first.” You point towards the wooden paneled barn some meters away. My girlfriend. Did that not sound harsh? There was such diction in her proclamation for Ellie. It was an iron bar being burned into your chest, over your heart like a branding.  

She didn’t say much of a thank you, only a head nod and a wave. Leaving you standing in the same patch of mud you were standing in when she arrived. That interaction felt oddly tangy, rather than sweet—like usual. Of course, you had your doubts about Cat, but this time it felt different. So much different.

For another thirty minutes, you monitored Frankie and the other goats. Giving her a bunch of kisses to make up for your irate behavior—after all, she was behaving better; she deserved them!

Finishing your work, you didn’t realize until your stepped into the house—leaving your shoes on the porch—that Ellie didn’t call or text you about anything. She was supposed to meet you when she finished her side of the chores, but she never showed. It was too cold to wait around for her, so you trotted back to the house. And it’s not like you had her number; she had yours.  

In the back of your mind, you worried about the interaction she had with Cat. Why wouldn’t you? As the days went by, you were growing in possessiveness of someone that wasn’t even yours. She used to be, but that wouldn’t hold up in court.  

You noticed Maria working in the kitchen, working on small side dishes. Before you jogged up the stairs, you let her know that you’d be back after a warm shower. Cooking food while smelling like actual animal shit wasn’t a great mix.

Tommy had already put the television on the channel where the game was playing. The direct speech of sports anchors playing as background noise on the first floor--bouncing off the walls.  

When you walked up the stairs, you heard the soft tune of Joel strumming and tuning his new guitar from his bedroom. It soothed your ears—his playing always did. There was a song he used to play for you, and sometimes Ellie, when you were teenagers. Then, after while, she began to play it for you. Sat in the corner of your reading nook, in a t-shirt and plaid boxers (or whatever underwear she was wearing), strumming at the tough strings of her guitar. Looking into your eyes like you were unreal.

Everyone seemed to be doing something on this busy morning. And you were soon to jump right in.  

Steam opened your pores as you cleansed the dirt and grime off your skin. You attempted not to drown within your own thoughts while the showering. Echoes of your parents’ voices bounced around your mind, along with Joel’s. It was overwhelming. You feared they’d never forgive you if they found out what you and Ellie were doing—or had done. Then, there was Cat; a part of you felt bad for her. That she was getting caught in the middle of unfinished business… Clearly, your attempt at clearing your head didn’t work.  

Shutting off the shower, smelling like a happy mixture of vanilla and coconut, you wrapped yourself in a towel to walk to your bedroom. When you entered, you didn’t notice the frame of your estranged lover sitting on your bed—until you pivoted on damp feet. “Shit, Ellie… What the hell are you doing?” You gasp, clenching onto the material of the old beach towel you were using to dry off.  

Her back was facing you, eyes cast toward the paneled window of your reading nook. The auburn strands of her hair were damp, leaving marks on the shoulders and back of her grey sweatshirt.  

“She fucking knows…”  

Your eyebrows stitched together, trying to take in what the woman before you had said. Shutting your door with a sigh, you turn back around slowly. “What do you mean…?” Your voice trembled, wanting clarification even though you already knew what she meant. That hole that you dug was only getting deeper. Or, perhaps, not. It’s already reached max depth.

Ellie peered over her shoulder, the whites of her eyes unnerved. Freckled cheeks flushed to oblivion. “You PM’d me last night on MySpace…”  

“Yeah…?” You slowly approached her, shrugging your shoulders. Although, your heart was racing—beating throughout your entire body. If that was even possible.  

“When I got back to the guesthouse last night, I basically conked out, y/n.” Ellie told, finally shifting her body to see your stunned frame in its entirety. Water droplets dripping down your arms and legs; muscles tightening in anticipation.  

A hand shot over your mouth, eyebrows furrowing in remorse. If she went right to sleep, then someone else had been responding to you—and you don’t believe in ghosts. “Please, tell me you’re fucking with me.”  

She placed her head in her hands. “I wish I was…” Ellie bounced her leg, nervously. “Why the fuck would you mention anything that happened over the internet?” Her tone shifted, scolding you with the same pair of eyes that once caressed your skin with adoration.

“I had no other way to tell you about Joel. I was trying to warn you—“  

“Yeah, what a warning that was.”  

You scoff, crossing your arms. “Okay, hold on… How do you know about this? D— Did she confront you— or what?”  

She sighed. “She came and talked to me while I was grooming Sarah— Also, you forgot to mention that she doesn’t like to be brushed…!” Her round features were pulled taut, glaring at you.  

“I met her, like, once, Ellie. How would I know that she doesn’t like to be brushed?” You retorted, kicking out a leg, narrowing your eyes. “And… She’s a fucking baby. You should’ve expected that.”

“She said if I don’t admit what I did by tonight… She’s gonna fucking do it.”  

You bunched your eyebrows, shaking your head—utterly confused. “She’s gonna fucking do what? Wh— What is this, Ellie— fucking One Tree Hill?!” It was incredulous for Cat to make such a threat. Theatricals were never your choice of handling things. Hence the last time an explosive episode happened on the farm. You shut down and close off—it’s always too much!  

The auburn-haired woman’s feature slightly softened, looking up at you from her seated position.

Noticing the tensing in your body—seeing that face she swore she never wanted to see again. “Uhm, what did you say…?” You questioned, carefully with pinched lips and drifting eyes.  

“I said that I would…”  

Record scratch. Again. How many of those were you going to experience in a single week?

“Ellie—!”  

“To alleviate some of her frustration—!” She tried.

“I don’t give a fuck why you agreed to her stupid threat, Ellie— it’s the fact that you did!” You paced, squeezing the bridge of your nose. Thinking. Hard. Your voice had boomed, forgetting that the walls weren’t thick. “I will not have this random emo chick ruin the relationship I have with my parents… Because she wants to get back at you.”  

She leaned back on her hands, shrugging. “And you… She’s getting back at you, too.”  

“Seriously.” You snapped your head toward her, blinking with blossoming anger.  

“Dead serious.” Ellie held your eyes, courageously. She never liked seeing you angry, but boy, did it set her skin on fire. You were always so concerned with how people perceived you, that you avoided acting within your nature. Even though, in your truest nature, you were the most beautiful thing.  

You pointed a finger at her, strolling toward her. “Is this funny to you?”  

“Is there a smile on my face?” She retorted, looking up at you through her thick, batting lashes.

“You look amused—“  

“I am.” She simply stated, causing you to raise an eyebrow. “Because you’ve never changed, y/n. It’s always appearances with you— for everything.” You rolled your eyes at that, scoffing under your breath. What did she know? “Little-miss-perfect… Always has to do the right thing— not because she wants to, but because she wants others to notice that she does.”

Her words sounded familiar. More put together, but familiar.  

“It’s fucking pathetic, babe—“

“Get hell the out of my room.” The words came from you like a whisper with pinched lips, clenching your fists at your sides. Her and her name-calling.

Ellie stood up, chest nearly touching the towel that wrapped around you. Chest to chest. “Can you think about us for one second?” Her fingers tethered to your bare skin, dancing up your arms. “Cat’s makin’ our karma come quick— embarrassing us in front of our family. And, yeah, we did a fucked-up thing. I can admit and make peace with that because I wanna be with you.” She squeezed your shoulders, examining your tight features. Ellie reached her hand to grace your cheek, but you turned away.  

A sigh fell from her lips, pulling away from your body. “And all you can think about is your parents… What they would think?” Ellie scoffed, running her hand through her damp strands. “You’re an adult—! And you, certainly, made an adult decision to fuck me the other night— so this is your fault as much as it is mine.” She lectured. Ellie Williams was lecturing you. Oh, how the tables turn.

“Fucking stand in it.” The artist grit, pointing her finger to the ground. “That’s you’re fuckin’ problem. Always wanting to be perfect— but you’re not! Not even close.”

Tears began to build in the corner of your eyes, lips quivering at her words. Heart wrenching at her stern tone. “And I fucking love you for it…” Ellie appeared dejected, gliding toward your door. Adhering to the command you gave her: Get out. “But if your parents’ opinion weigh heavier… Fine.”  

A beat meandered through the room, while Ellie’s hand hovered over the handle.

“I realized… After Cat found me in the barn that…” She chewed on her lip. “I’m not ashamed of what we did— which is why I don’t mind telling the truth. It may be a threat for her but… it’s a release for me.”

A sob shockingly came from your throat, plopping onto your reading nook. The strength of your neck unable to hold up your head—it dropped into your hands to cover your face. “Please,” Your breath hitched, peeking through your fingers. “Ellie, please, don’t say anything. Don’t ruin tonight over something…Something fickle.”  

Fickle?

She deepened her eyebrows in offense before pulling open the door. “I’m telling them whether you like it or not. Shape up or ship the fuck out.” Ellie pushed through the door, making sure to shut it light enough not to cause a stir, but heavy enough to unsettle you further.  

To Ellie’s core, she was a pusher; a person who liked to push others—for better or for worse. Just depended on the day, and the person. Now, in her past, she’s made the mistake of pushing you into a worser version of yourself. And she almost did it again, but she revised her actions efficiently. She corrected it. Switched it around like a puzzle-piece placed in the wrong spot.  

You needed to learn how to stand in your decision—good or bad—and not cowering within them. There’s no point in begging for a person’s forgiveness once you’ve done something wrong. Accountability and apologies are all a person has. And your parents—pssh; you shouldn’t be worrying about that so much.  

Tommy and Maria loved you more than life itself, and Ellie understood why because she did, too.  

There was nothing you could do to scarlet letter your persona. Absolutely nothing.  

Even after titling the love you and Ellie embraced fickle; she could never turn her face from you— not for long anyway.  

Dragging her feet down the hall, old converse sliding against the wood, eyes watering with warm tears in the corner of her eyes; a door creaked open. An aged pair of brown eyes, pushing though the slot. “Everything all right, kiddo…?”

Slowly, she turned her head to look at him. Olive eyes attempting to blink back tears at the sound of his softened, gravelly voice. Sniffling, her legs carried her toward him, wrapping her arms around his soft abdomen, tucking her head into his chest.  

Nothing came from her but soft, stressed cries. Fingers clenching onto the fabric of his flannel behind his back.

As much as this situation was a lot for you, it was a lot for her as well—just in a different way, for a different reason.

In your room, you were still on that reading nook in your towel. Your body was was dry, so the old cloth scratched and tickled your skin. It was deserving for you to be uncomfortable. Ellie was right; you were a little pathetic—for lack of better word.  

You spent so much time wanting to fix yourself. Be the best version of yourself. And that wasn’t Tommy or Maria’s fault, it was your own. When you were first adopted, sent to a new school, you had a full out meltdown. Some kid had been picking on you for being quiet, and you escalated the situation to a place that it didn’t need to go. As in: using your fists to defend yourself. From then, you were thrown into therapy and had to relearn that fighting wasn’t the answer. Maria aided that by drilling into your head that violence was something that could get you into trouble.  

So, how did the way people perceived you become such a focus? Well, Maria’s scoldings of your behavior translated in your head—along with trauma of past foster homes and neglectful parents—that what people saw of you mattered more than your own conclusions. They thought, therefore you were.  

You failed to fact-check. You failed to have a personal understanding of your own behavior. It was rare for you to make peace with your own actions—good or bad. You were always stuck on what a person would think of you; especially, your parent’s. Perhaps, there was still a part of you that felt you needed to prove that you worth caring for. Worth supporting. 

That pressure continues and continues and continues to shove your head underwater no matter how many times your flail and beg for air.  

It was obnoxious. It is obnoxious. You’re obnoxious.  

Love isn’t conditional. It’s a feeling that tethers people to one another despite anything. Despite flaws and self-guilts—it perseveres. That concept shouldn’t be difficult to grasp because, after all Ellie had said on that one unfaithful afternoon, you still loved her. You loved her at seventeen, and you love her at twenty-five. Nothing has changed. Nothing will change.  

And the same applied for your parents to you.  

It was fucking physics and you were a prodigal humanities student who looked at STEM in contempt.

Solemnly, you dressed into a pair of comfy clothes. Attempting to replace the frown that stuck to your lips, although your body was already weakened from your emotions. Surprisingly, a cigarette couldn’t cure your overthinking mind—not this time. There was no point in pulling from one.  

After squeezing eye drops into your eyes to eliminate the irritated veins in your sclera’s, you stomped down the wooden stairs. When your mother noticed you, she smiled. Her sparkling white teeth glimmering in your eyes—warm and kind. “Ellie and Joel are gonna be baking the pie at the guesthouse… So, the kitchen is ours.” Maria chuckled to herself, kneading the dough for her legendary biscuits.  

“I know how much you hate overcrowded kitchens…” You respond, grabbing the apron with your nickname stitched on the front—Bug. She did a double take, looking from the dough in her hands. Noticing that unfortunate look on your face, and that blandness in your tone.  

Maria sighed, setting the dough aside, leaning her flour covered hands against the counter. “Not you, too… What the hell is in the air today?” She shook her head, averting her eyes to you with intensity. “What’s goin’ on with you— Ellie had just come down here with that same look on her face.”  

“What look?”  

“That look.”  

You pressed your lips into a line, looking around in thought. It was easier to lie and say something unrelated but that was fruitless idea. So, you said nothing, walking over to the cornbread she left out to begin working on the stuffing.  

Raising an eyebrow, she followed you with her icy irises. She then called you your full name, which sent chills down you spine.

You sucked your teeth, meeting her stern eyes. “Ellie and I had sex…” You mutter, peering down to your shaking hands.  

“What…?”  

It was difficult to say aloud to your mother, but that the rest came behind swiftly. “And Cat found out because I had a run-in with Joel— he heard, and I wanted to let Ellie know… So, I private messaged her on MySpace, but turns out, she wasn’t the one responding to me; Cat was.” You puffed air from your lips. “This morning, she came by to ask where Ellie was, so I told her she was in the horse barn. Come to find out, she confronted her, threatening to air all of our shit out to you and dad and Joel as a consequence.”

“Tommy, get in here.” She asserted to her husband focused on the television, keeping her wide eyes on you.

Another sigh came from you, watching as your father navigated into the kitchen. “After my shower, Ellie was in my room and that’s when she told me. We got into it a little bit… Uhm, because she told me that she was gonna tell y’all that we slept together and that pissed me off— because why would she do that?” You scoff, not noticing the glances your father was making to your mother as you unloaded this heavily detailed bundle of information. “How could she be so quick to admit that we had sex to our family that has known us since we were children? That we committed fucking adultery while her girlfriend was only, like, ten meters away—“  

“Honey,” Tommy tried, but you held up a finger.  

“Let me finish.” Your eyes welled with tears, looking at your fathers aging features. “I couldn’t understand how she was so okay with it, but, now, I do. I think I do…” You glance between the two people hovering around you. “The only reason why I came up with the idea— yeah, I’m the one who came up with it… To hookup. Sue me— was because I wanted to see if what was happening between us was real. And it fucking was!”  

“I know what we did was wrong. I knew it was wrong when I decided to go through with it… I begged Ellie not to say anything— which is ironic considering I’m the one talkin’.” You chuckled, wiping a warm tear that slipped from your eyes. “I was afraid of what you guys would think of me. That you wouldn’t love me anymore because of what I did— because you didn’t raise a liar…” Pausing, you released a shaky breath. “Verbatim: she told me to shape up… Or ship the fuck out. I chose the latter because… You didn’t raise a coward either.”  

They blinked at you.  

“I love Ellie. I really do, and yeah, we should’ve gone about this differently— but we didn’t. And I’m sorry.” Curtly, you nodded your head, adjusting your shoulder to stand up straighter. “I’m so grateful that you guys are my parents— you chose to be here and support me. The least I can do is be honest with you. Even if that results in your disappointment.”  

The tears had dried up in your eyes sometime amid your ramble of humility. Confidence growing with every word that you spoke. Ellie’s words rang through your skull about your consistent jig of morality. Fuckup’s don’t make you nor should they break you.  

Shit happens!

Their quietness made you tremble out of that shell of confidence you manifested, making you breathe a little heavier and feel a little more uncomfortable within your skin. You watched as they looked at each other. Maria sporting a mixture of concern and disappointment on her features—more disappointment than concern. And, Tommy, the complete opposite.  

“You know, what? I’ll let you two… Sit on this.” You walk past them, toward the fridge. In the door, there was both glass bottles and cans of beer—Miller Lite and Heineken. You grabbed the green glass bottle by the neck, “I’m gonna have a beer…” Walking toward the back door with horse barn on your mind.  

It was like a weight lifted off your shoulders after you confessed. Being honest with your thoughts about the whole situation made you feel lighter—feather allowing the wind to guide her, type of light. It was freeing to stand in her truth.

The cool breeze of autumn bit at your exposed arms, and the sliver of skin between the hem of your top and the hip line of your sweats. But because you were riding on the high of your confession, you didn’t feel the chill. You never were much of a beer person—it never made sense for you to drink. Yeast was never your thing, but after your confession, you had a craving for it. The beer, not so much the yeast. You overcame something big—you cried yourself into a new you. A better you.

And not that surface-better person you were trying or pretending to be.  

When you arrived at the barn, you didn’t forget to pet the grazing horses near you before entering. Remnants of Ellie’s work lingered around, but there was no sight of her. Perhaps, it was for the best. Reaching for one of the bridles hanging on an iron hook, you used the belt to pluck off the tin cap that topped the bottle.  

Settling in scattered hay, you plopped onto the ground, taking a large sip. Gritting your teeth at the flavor—still, wasn’t much of a fan. Although, she lingered close to her mother, Sarah began to drift toward you. Curiosity ruling her developing brain. You reached out to her, scratching the short tufts of her blonde hair.  

She leaned into your hand, huffing air from her nostrils. It made you smile, her comfortability with you after knowing her for such a short time. “Oh, Sarah…” You sighed, wistfully.  

From behind her, in the distance, you see your mother’s figure approaching you. You take in a nervous breath, preparing for her, potentially, harsh words.  

Maria’s boots crunched along the sprawled hay, taking her time to sit beside you. Leaning her against the same wooden wall you did. She ran her hand through her short blonde hair, sighing as her shorter pieces of her hair fell right back into place. “If…” She began, thoughtfully. “I’ve ever given you a reason to think that I— we could ever stop loving you, y/n; that was my mistake. I wanna start there. Out of everything that you said in there… That’s what disappointed me most.”  

Your eyes flicker to hers, briefly. Sarah had retreated back towards her mother. “Yeah, I must admit… I don’t wanna see my daughter, my kid, doing something worth regretting— no parent wants to see that.” She shook her head, glancing back at the horses. “And, yes, I am disappointed that you did something of this nature… But I know your heart, honey.” Maria reached her hand to your bent knee, caressing with her thumb.  

The heat in your cheeks and eyes increased with emotion. “I’ll never forget that look on your face when we surprised you with those papers.” She smiled at the memory, and you leaned into her as if it were muscle memory. “You were… Relieved. And, from that day forward, Tommy and I promised to do right by you. To love you how you deserved to be loved— to prove that you deserved to be loved despite what the world had already managed to convince you.”  

You wrapped your hand around the one on your knee while tears dripped from the corners of your eyes. “You think something like this would change my mind?” She looked down at you leaning her shoulder.  

“Yeah… I guess…” You insecurely blinked at her. Feeling like the very thirteen-year-old she was referencing.  

The blonde woman shook her head, placing a hand on your cooling cheek. “Well, that’s the farthest from the truth, Bug.” Her lips plotted against your forehead, comfortingly. “Your father and I will love you until we’re cold in the ground—“  

“Mom, don’t say that.” You whined, sniffling.  

“Probably, beyond that—“  

“Mom!”  

She snickered, peeling the beer from your fingers, and taking a sip for herself. “I don’t know how they tolerate this stuff.” Maria grimaced, shaking her head, setting it aside. “So… What’s the course of action now that everybody knows this big secret?”  

You pull from her, leaning your head against the wall. “I don’t know…” You sighed, shutting your eyes. “Ellie is pissed at me—“  

“For…?” She perked a slender eyebrow.  

“Because… I called our situation fickle to get her to not say anything, but clearly, that didn’t work.” You shook your head. “I guess, I’m the impulsive one now.”  

Maria hummed. “Looks like you have a lot to clear up.”  

You inhaled, peering at her. “Looks like it.” With another breathy sigh, you shook your head.

“Fuck, and Cat.” You slapped your hand against your forehead.

“Ah. You know, she has every right to be upset?”  

“Of course, I do. But, to be fair…”  

“Nope—“  

“Ellie came up here to get away from her— that’s what she told me!”  

Your mother scolded you, calling you by your full name—because that was her super power. But, you ignored her, sitting up straight to prove your point. “She was living in the biggest, most creative city in the world and felt crowded? How does that make sense?”  

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Maybe… Maybe this is what they needed.” You shrugged.  

Maria stood to her feet, offering you a hand. “Let’s not get caught up in the little details— you have some apologizing to do.”  

“Ugh! I know, I know…” You took her hand, hopping to your feet. She bent down, picking up the beer bottle by the throat.

“But before that, you need to cover up those arms, and get to work in that kitchen— because, we have guests.” As your mother ushered you back into the house, you dragged your slippers against the ground, finding your way back inside the house with a newfound comfort.

Almost an hour earlier, the guesthouse was bluntly silent. Nothing but the slight huffing of Joel kneading dough and the crunching of breadcrumbs from Ellie. There wasn’t much conversation; only the actions of their priorities fr dinner. Cat had locked herself in the bedroom, probably, plotting her next attack.

Joel made a point to keep his eyes on Ellie—and Cat—to make sure nothing crazy happened. Cheating situations made people a little tense at times.  

“So… Ellie, what song are you planning on playin’ tonight?” He tried, beginning to roll out the dough; flat to place in the round tin pan.  

She sighed, glancing at him with a dismissive glare. “I’m not playin’ tonight…”  

“Come on, it’s tradition—“  

“Fuck, tradition! I’m not doing it. Can we move on?”  

He huffed, placing the wooden roller on the floured counter. “I think you need to cut her some slack, kiddo. She didn’t mean to—“  

“I don’t care what she meant—“  

“Can you let me finish?” He raised an eyebrow, pointing an index finger that was caked with white flour. Ellie bunched her lips together, rolling her eyes. “Now, Ellie, I know you’re upset with y/n, with how the situation panned out— I get it. But don’t let your frustration cloud your judgement.” He told. “I spoke to her long before you did. I don’t believe for a second that she truly thinks that your relationship is fickle.”  

He inhaled, scratching the back of his neck. “Sometimes we say things that we don’t mean— I’m sure you know about that.”  

She ran her tongue over her lips, tapping her foot against the floor. Thinking back to a few years ago when she exploded on Joel and you. Ellie was good for that—saying things she didn’t mean. “I mean, I’ve said a few things to Tommy in my day.”  

“Joel…” She shook her head. “I don’t even know if it’s that alone— I…” Ellie struggled to verbalize, gesticulating with her hands and fingers as words attempted to materialize behind her teeth. “She’s always choosing her parents over me— over everything and everyone. Really, it’s doing her a disservice—“  

The artist began to rant like her life depended on it. Of course, in a low enough tone where her girlfriend in the other room couldn’t hear. Joel just watched a listened, as her features contorted with annoyance. But, within her big, earthy eyes, Ellie told on herself. Her claims didn’t come from hatred, or even contempt—it came from her adoration of you.  

In the corner of the room, relied the piece she’s been working on since the day of her arrival, or rather, the night of. It was no longer covered with a white, paint-stained sheet. Her work had been exposed to the light due to a quick argument between her and Cat before Joel came to save the day. It was a colored-in image of you in front of that old shed. A joint rested between your index and middle finger with a look of relaxation was on your smoothly stroked features. Ellie made sure to depict you in your most comfortable state.  

If only he could see her sketch book.  

“Ellie, you have to break up with her.”  

She paused, mid-sentence. “What?”  

“Matter of fact, you need to break up with Cat— now.”

Uncomfortably, she shifted on her bare feet. “But… The pie…”  

He chortled, averting his eyes to the art piece at the corner of the room. “Priorities, Ellie. Priorities.” Joel leaned his hip against the marble counter. “Go in there, break up with her— as kindly as you can. Then, offer to drive her to the train station. If she declines, insist. If you go now, you should make it back before dinner. You know Maria will have a cow if you’re late.”

Briefly, she thought to herself. Ellie was never the type to be afraid of confrontation—she may have hesitated a few times… But she was never afraid. She never expected her actions to be thrown into her face so quickly, though. The memory of Cat approaching Ellie in that barn sent chills down her spine, because she had an inkling that something was wrong the minute she had appeared. Her dark brown eyes were squinty and boring through her as she approached. At first, Ellie didn’t notice Cat’s slender frame walking up to her—as she were hyper-focused on tending to the small, blonde-haired foal.

They have been together for nearly a year, so of course, the freckled artist knew when she was truly upset. Cat was a woman of subtly, despite her tattoos and silver piercings. Her anger pressed through with an even tone, and a stiff posture; rather than, expression through loud voices and firm fist curls. They are polar opposites in that way. That is what originally attracted Ellie to her—but in that moment, she shivered.

It was like whiplash, comparing how she woke up to how she appeared in front of Ellie in that moment. Making her wonder, if that happy act was all lie? It most certainly was.

Cat somehow surpassed a level of straightforwardness that Ellie was comfortable with, telling her exactly how it was: Why she made breakfast for her this morning, the MySpace conversation (why she pretended to be her), her certainty of her infidelity, and the official threat that set everything off the rails. Easily, her intention was to embarrass Ellie and you. She sensed the timidness that you hid behind and wanted to use it against you. She assumed, based off the history between you and Ellie, that the only way for Ellie to be affected is to make an example of you. However, she imagined that it would be more difficult for her girlfriend to confess her actions first.

You weren’t particularly obvious with what happened between the two of you, but she would have to be stupid to not assume that it was a sexual thing. But when Cat approached Ellie with the statement: You told me you were going on a run. She didn’t expect to be met with immediate truth. Her olive eyes had grown wide for only a second, before words began to just flood from her like an open dam. Ellie couldn’t stop herself.

Perhaps, it was the complaints of you echoing in her head. Your fervent concerns about going back to Cat—it made her feel guilty; so, she confessed as if she were bribed to tell the truth and was content with the consequences. All the while, brushing the soft, blunt hairs of Sarah.

Ellie assumed that was why Cat made a threat to support her dominance. That made her hesitate a bit—admitting to her family that her and an old flame, that ended horribly in their teenagerhood, had secret sex in the middle of the night? Despite having a girlfriend—who could ever do such a thing?

Apparently, Ellie.

Straightening her shoulders, she didn’t back down, though. She took full accountability for her behavior, claiming that she would be the one to tell them what she did—although, she did find that to be dramatic. It wasn’t until Ellie was checking off the chores list in the garden, when she realized her fate had a drastic connection to you.

You weren’t the type to stand tall in defeat or mistake. When the things you did wrong were brought to you, you quivered and coward away because it made you feel more than you preferred. Faulty. It made you want to sequester—the total opposite of Ellie.

She could never forget how you hid away after the fight on her seventeenth birthday. You didn’t go to school for a week. Ellie offered to bring you schoolwork, like the waving of a white flag, but you declined—or, rather, your parents declined. One of your academic friends made visits to the farm every day to give you the missing work. For a moment, after not hearing from you, Ellie thought you moved abroad or something. You were the closest thing to a true hermit.

That worried her because this is the last thing you’d ever want to admit, and it was Ellie’s fault. She may not have felt a lick of regret for loving on you like she used to, but she felt bad for putting you in a situation you couldn’t seamlessly get out of. It was a nightmare to see you flail, but the only way out is through. Ellie learned that a long time ago. Maybe, it was your turn to reassess that motto.

The only way out is through.

So, Ellie made her way to the bedroom they shared, knocking before she entered.

Cat had her back propped up against the wooden headboard; a pair of headphones covering her pierced ears as she typed on her own computer. Her bags were packed and ready in the corner of the room—that’s what she spent her time doing this morning… Packing her bags. When she wasn’t issuing theatrical threats. That’s already one concern out the window. She was ready to ship out. When she noticed Ellie, her soft features fell.

“You’re already packed…” She acknowledged, rocking on her bare feet. Cat removed her headphones with a sigh. “Let me take you to the train station—”

“Before you tell your family that you boldly cheated on your girlfriend? I don’t think so.” She dismissed, tilting her head to the side. “If this is your way of getting out of—”

Ellie groaned, slapping her hands against her thighs. “I’m not trying to get out of anything, Cat. I just don’t want you paying a fucking grand to get back into the city.”

“What do you care?” Cat challenged, setting her laptop aside. “Hm? You told me that I had nothing to worry about. That’s what you said… Turns out that was a stupid fucking lie.” She ground out, pressing her lips into a disappointed line. A cruel laugh came from her, while she shook her head in disbelief. “And now, you’re saying you care about how much I’m spending to get back home? Are you fucking with me?”

“I’m not. It’s the least I could do—”

“No… The least you could’ve done was not fuck y/n—that’s the least you could’ve done.” The scorned woman argued, meeting her eyes with intensity. “I’m not going anywhere until I see the looks on Mr. and Mrs. Miller’s faces when they find out what the two of you did— I have a feeling it’ll be memorable.”

The freckled artist found her attitude to be draining, even if it was sensical for her side of things. Her fingers rubbed between her eyebrows. A raspy sigh fleeing from her throat. “Look, I get you’re upset, Cat. But dontcha’ think you’re doing, I don’t know, too much?”

“You think this is too much?”

“Uh, yeah, I do. I said I’d tell ‘em what happened— that should be enough for you.”

Scoffing, she threw her legs over the mattress. “You expect me to believe the woman who cheated on me? How didn’t I know you were this idiotic before?” Cat scoffed, dryly.

She deepened her eyebrows at the insult, gritting her teeth. “You know, what? I’ve been really struggling to keep my mouth shut… But, clearly, there’s no point.” Ellie huffed, blinking her eyes. Perhaps, it was time for her to know the truth on why Ellie wanted to go home for a while. Her stiff words got Cat’s attention, causing her to narrow her dark eyes. “That whole thing about me having a hard time in the city with my art— yeah, that was because of you, not because of fucking Brooklyn.” The woman admitted, releasing the tension in her shoulders. “Truth is, your endless support did nothing but drag out my lack of inspiration—you made it worse! What I needed was to get out of that goddamn apartment, not get out of the city.” She continued, pacing around the room. “From the moment I saw her… Inspiration fucking flooded my psyche— all I could see was her. Her face. Her voice. Her body. She did more for me in second than you ever did for me in the year we’ve been together.”

She ran a hand through her hair, scoffing. A boyish smirk spreading onto her plush lips. “Who’s the fuckin’ idiot now?” Ellie muttered, flickering her earthy eyes toward her shocked expression.

A beat plotted in the environment, feasting on the spreading tension in the room.

That was mean; she matched her cruelty and then some. Ellie shouldn’t have, but she was only human. A human who just made her girlfriend—sorry, ex-girlfriend—cry. Her thin eyebrows pushed into a harsh furrow, tears streaming shown her flushed, hot cheeks. Her fingers danced in front of lips, trying to keep her sorrowful whines from being heard. It wasn’t working. Cat cried like a hurt dog, stuffing her face in her hands at Ellie’s restriction of consolation.

With crossed arms, Ellie looked down at from across the room. Family was one of the most important things to her. Despite her youthful, abrasive attitude, Joel decided to contractually tie himself to her—her adoption. But, even before then, she’s been a divine part of the Miller family. They meant a whole lot to her, you, more so. The fact that she was so willing to draw a wedge between the lot of you… Frankly, it disgusted her. It was repulsive.

“You have every right to be upset. I can’t take that from you.” She let up, lifting her eyebrows. “If anything… What I do regret is pulling you along this far out of convenience. To be honest—”

“Haven’t you been honest enough? Fuck, Ellie.” Cat blurted, peeking over her shoulder.

Her feelings might have been hurt; a simmering flame awaiting the impulsive pressure of Ellie’s old converse. The auburn-haired woman sighed, taking a seat on the bed. Away from Cat, not only to convey her sincerity in her processing words, but to respect Cat’s wired emotions. “I’ve kept enough from you, kitty Cat. My honesty is my apology…” Ellie casted her down-to-earth irises to the side of Cat’s face. When she turned to meet Ellie’s eyes, her smudged eyeliner and mascara became a spectacle. “And my good-bye…”

Cat scoffed in pure offense. “You do not get to break-up with me when you’re the one who fucked up.”

“Well, if you wanna be the one to call it… Then, feel free.”

“No!” She grit her teeth, more tears dripping from the corners of her eyes. “I don’t want to break up with you…” Her lips quivered.

Ellie chortled, leaning her palm into the mattress. “Uhm, one of us is gonna have to do the breaking, Cat.”

They apparently have walked themselves into an impasse. To make a decision, or to not make a decision—that was the question. The response, the answer, was far simpler than Cat was making it, though.

Sighing, the freckled artist looked to the side. Ellie could use this to her advantage—getting her on that train back to the city. “You don’t have to right now…” She began to offer. “How about you mull it over on the way to the train station? I still don’t mind driving you there.” Her fingers fiddled with themselves, hoping she’d finally accept her invitation to leave.

She looked at her frowning, blinking away her tears. “Fine…” Cat stood to her feet, wiping her makeup-stained cheeks with the backs of her hand. “Why don’t you be a doll and bring my bags to the truck. It’s the least you could do.” Before Ellie could respond, she walked into bathroom and locked herself behind the door.

Releasing a long breath of relief, Ellie got up from the bed. As silently as possible, she pumped her fists into the air. Cat was leaving with only a little bit of resistance. That whole dramatic scene she was hoping for wasn’t happening—thank God!

Ellie stuffed her feet into her sneakers, before grabbing her rolling luggage and bag, hoisting the large purse over her shoulder. She left the bedroom, eyeing Joel on her way out. He was covered in flour and sugar, like the chef that he aspired to be. She gave him a thumbs up on the way out the door, snickering to herself.

Joel clapped his hands, forgetting about the flour stuck to his hands. It puffed into the air and down his throat, causing him to obnoxiously cough—away from the food developing in front of him. “Goddamn,”

Ellie peeked her head inside, pushing the luggage to the side on the small wooden porch. “Please, survive until I get back. Wouldn’t want another tragedy on Thanksgiving.”

“Oh, shut it, Ellie.”

She snickered again; her mood instantly heightened. However, as she maneuvered off the porch, her eyes caught sight of you and your mother. Maria’s arms were around you, guiding you toward the house. You didn’t have a jacket on and sported a pair of slippers—you weren’t dressed for the brisk afternoon air, dragging your feet against the ground. Ellie had stopped in her tracks. Shoes crunching on bumpy gravel. She couldn’t help but wonder what led you out the house. Was it her? Did she unnerve you so bad that you ran away from the warmth of the house?

Also, did you mean what you said when you used fickle as a description of your relationship with Ellie? Boy, did she have so many questions. This ball was filled with kinetic energy, rolling as it should have. She was just going to have to keep the momentum of its roll. For how long? The inspired artist didn’t know—but what she did know, was that she had a woman to make hers again.

This time, in a sustainable way, instead of a chaotic one.

taglist: @autisticintr0vert , @liasxeatt , @hopingforgoodblogs , @lia-winther , @macaroni676 , @tobiotruther , @anewkindofloove , @fatbootymuncher , @maiaska , @culuvr , @0phantom0 , @onlinelesbo , @bbnbhm , @lovelaymedown , @lamorenita , @scatapple , @elliewilliamsblunt , @goddessofchaosss , @mikellie , @emmanetalias , @sevyscoven , @lluvbk

[hypnagogics]

SUPERBLOOD WOLFMOON | teaser + summary

♡: spider!ellie williams x reader

FULL SYNOPSIS: in a city shrouded with mystery, lovable loser ellie williams leads a double life. by day, she's an ordinary young adult. she juggles her studies, a boring job at a run-down record store for a few extra bucks, playing guitar in her free time, and ignoring your texts, the usual. but by night, she transforms into a famed superhero, beloved by the country. she's there when any problems arise, whenever she is needed to sort a squabble out. however, maintaining anonymity as arachnelle is of utmost importance to her. she vowed to take that to her grave, it was just easier this way, keeping her life split in two.

as her most dear friend since the earliest days of childhood, you've always sensed there was a lot more to her than meets the eye, and in recent times your suspicions have reached an all-time high, with her being even more strange and avoidant than usual. your patience is running thin, as well as your curiosity rising, and you cannot help but pry into her affairs. but as you delve deeper into her secrets, you uncover a horrifying web of intrigue, crime, and danger, with a shadowy figure known only as the "claw" pulling the strings from behind the scenes, and potentially being the very source for any and all peril occurring in the city. amidst the whirlwind of chaos, blossoming romantic feelings begin to accumulate for your best friend, only complicating the already bizarre relationship between the two of you more. as you become entangled in this whole ordeal which all started with a few simple peculiarities—a fiasco you never grasped the true severity of before diving headfirst in—you'll traverse the labyrinth of hidden truths and city-wide corruption, all while grappling with your own personal emotions and doubts at the core. you'll be forced to face the daunting question of how much risk you're willing to endure in pursuit of the complete truth, and whether the sacrifices made along the way were truly worthwhile in the end.

read this first! ▪︎ daily click ▪︎ series playlist ▪︎ series masterlist

☆: yeah i can't keep a single thing to myself like ever i'm wayyyy too impatient and excited to share new things. new series!! i'm sososo hyped for this one :) lmk if you'd like to be added to the series taglist whichever way! the formatting of this is nicer on desktop trust me...

[wasitforrevenge]

the last of us twitter links pt. 2

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+

hi thank you everyone for over 800 likes on my last link post!

FIRST PART HERE

this is gonna have more characters so enjoy! please like, reblog, and comment AND PLEASE SEND REQUESTS <3 either more links or ideas to write about, i have 3 chapters of my boxer!ellie fic up now and more coming soon! (sorry for the shameless self promo)

that being said… please enjoy! links under keep reading!

18+ PLEASE NO MINORS

ways to help palestine

joel miller

❧ joel taking you from behind

❧ deepthroating joel

❧ riding joel’s face

❧ joel & both your holes

❧ joel making a mess of you

abby anderson

❧ abby playing with you

❧ abby making you ride her strap

❧ making you feel good

❧ playing with her boobs

❧ tribbing x face sitting w abs

ellie williams

❧ taking her strap in missionary

❧ ellie playing with you under your skirt

❧ ellie tying you up to fuck you

❧ her fingerfucking you

❧ ellie using the wand on you

dina

❧ dina fingering you

❧ scissoring with dina

❧ 69

❧ riding dina’s face

❧ you and dina in the car

jesse

❧ fucking you standing up

❧ reverse cowgirl

❧ jesse behind you

❧ taking care of jesse

❧ dirty talk with him

also should i continue with multiple people in one post or do you guys want a post dedicated to one single character??? pls lmk! and requests are open

[chappellroansdreamgirl]

abby's left hand grabbed selfishly at your bare back, keeping you in place on her lap, as her lips found a home on your right nipple. she felt her cunt clench and cry each time she pulled another one of your pretty moans out of your throat. she would open her eyes occasionally to look at you, smiling around your precious skin when she saw your ajar mouth and your eyebrows raising slightly whenever she'd put a bit more pressure on your breasts. a few minutes would go by before abby slowly lays you down on the bed. her rough hands finding placement on your love handles and rubbing them gently as she pulls your other soft nipple into her mouth, alternating between flicking her tongue over your tit and giving the fat of your boobs love-bites before targeting her assault back at your areolas<3 .

- my tits have been giving me hell for like the last three weeks, needed to write this shitty thing out.