Warm Me Up
Summary: Illyria is cold, Rhys has some ideas on how to stay warm.
Content Warnings: Smut; dirty talk; little bit of cursing.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Illyria was a wasteland, nothing but frigid mountains and harsh winds, you'd never understood how anything survived here. Your mate had flown you in an hour ago, you'd immediately had to sit in front of the cabin's fireplace, smothered in blankets, a warm cup of tea in your hands to avoid your teeth chattering and your fingertips from turning blue. The boys were somehow training outside shirtless. You could see them from the window, sparring, even as the relentless wind continued to beat against the windows.
You furrowed deeper into your mountain of blankets, still so damned cold. How were they managing that? How had Cassian survived his childhood, alone and hungry in this for so long? Was there something built into Illyrians to help them survive?
You tapped a mental hand against the bond hesitantly, worried you might distract your mate and he'd get hurt... again. Rhys had gotten used to your random questions, but thd first couple of times had been so sudden he'd lost focus, Az had clipped him across the shoulder, drawing blood. It hadn't even scarred, had healed with the help of his powers in less than hour. He'd probably forgotten about it. You hadn't.
Your mate responded with a gentle caress against your mental shields, like he'd brushed a hand over you mind, urging you to come forward.
"Do Illyrians run hot?" You asked.
A dark chuckle ran across the bond, sending a shiver over your spine. "Why don't you come out here and find out?"
You rolled your eyes. "And freeze to death? No thank you."
"It's not even snowing yet.," he let your peer through his eyes, the landscape dripping from yesterday's rain, but it was more mud than anything.
"I've seen warmer places in the Winter Court."
"There are plenty of ways to stay warm up here," Rhys purred, his voice a playful caress against your mind. "You're welcome to join us in the birken when we're done."
"And leave the safety of my little nest by the fire? I'll have frostbite by the time I make it there."
"Give me five minutes." The bond snapped closed and then Cassian was screaming obscenities from where they were sparring near the side of the cabin.
"THAT'S CHEATING YOU BASTARD!" Azriel shouted.
"RHYSAND I CAN'T FUCKING SEE!"
You pulled the comforter off the top of your head to try and get a good look through the closest window, but there was nothing but darkness against the glass. It was still too early in the day for the sun to be going down, the darkness outside rattling against the windows like a harsh wind. Rhys very rarely unleashed that much power, but you felt your own flare to life in your chest at the sight of it. Like calls to like, and your starborn powers had always risen to the challenge it found in Night Triumphant.
It wasn't even a full five minutes before the back door was thrown open so fast the old wood cracked against the wall. The wind came in with it, making you burrow deeper into your mound of blankets to avoid it.
Rhys must have kicked off his boots at the door, because you heard it slam shut and then nothing until large hands settled on your blanket clad shoulders.
You jumped with a shriek of surprise that had your mate bending over the back of the couch to kiss your barely exposed forehead apologetically, his skin colder than the wind beating against the walls.
"Ack! You're an ice cube!" You hissed, twisting to get away.
He chuckled as he pulled away and went to the closet near the front door.
"Don't bother, I've already raided it," you warned.
He opened it anyway, then frowned at all the empty shelves. "You weren't kidding." His next move was to go to the stack of wood neatly organized by the fire place and throw more in, the blaze illuminating the sharp planes of his face. He wasn't wearing a shirt, training leathers hanging low on his hips, a fine sheen of sweat making his bronze skin glow in the firelight.
Under normal circumstances, you would have jumped right on him, ran your tongue over his abs, traced the swirl of ink across his chest. Something about him in leathers made you weak in the knees, all rational thought out the window. The only thing keeping you in place this time was the thought of loosing the little pocket of warmth you had created.
He felt your gaze of course, turning away from the fire to look at you. "Better?" His voice had gone down an octave, his pupils dilating.
"Little," you admitted, though him being so close, looking like that might have been more of a reason for the heat you were starting to feel than the fire.
He walked to you slowly, intently, violet eyes fixed on you.
Your heartbeat quickened in your chest as he knelt in front of you.
"Think you can make room for me in there?" He kept his hands on the top blanket of your little cocoon, waiting for permission.
"I don't know, how cold are you?" You teased; this would be the last little bit of your resolve.
He slid a hand under the blankets, fingers dragging up slowly, intently over your calves.
"Cold," you whimpered, but the shiver that ran through you had nothing to do with the temperature, not as he traced his way up your thighs, only stopping when he found the hem of your sweater.
He leaned and pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose first, then the corners of your lips, his breath warm against your face, the contrast between the two temperatures making your head spin. You wanted to reel away and lean in all the same time.
"Just for a second," he promised, "then I'll get you nice and warm."
You opened the blanket, and that intense violet gaze took stock of your attire: His old sweater, so loose and baggy it looked like a dress on you, and knee high, fuzzy pink socks. Pants had felt like a waste of time, not when sifting through the dresser meant time spent away from the fire.
Rhys all but jumped on top of you, pushing you down into the couch cushions, the blankets tangling between you as he crashed his lips against yours.
Rhys, as High Lord, was always so poised and put together, everything about him calculated and curated to create the necessary masks of court duties; but alone, like this, when it was just the two of you, no masks necessary, he let that unending restraint slip, kissing you and running his hands over your body like a man starved. His tongue swept into your mouth as he slid a hand under your sweater, deft fingers dragging up your skin to cup your breast.
He'd kept his promise about the cold, you'd only felt it for a moment before he'd settled between your legs, using a bit of magic to untangle the blankets and rearrange them over the two of you. You ran a hand through his hair, scraping your nails lightly over his scalp as he playfully gave your nipple a tug.
"Better?" He rasped, lips barely off yours like he couldn't bear to be that far from you.
The warmth of his weight on top of you would have been enough, but the way he kept running his hands over any bit of you he could reach, the way he kissed you again and again and again was enough to make you forget you had ever been cold in the first place.
"Much better," you confirmed as he broke away to nip at your neck.
He chuckled as you arched into his touch; whimpering lightly as his tongue laved over the sting of his teeth on your throat.
"Can't decide," he murmured into your skin, "if I should fuck you in my sweater or not?"
Heat coiled between your legs, even further when he rocked his hips into your center, even with the clothes separating the two of you, the friction was enough to make you moan.
He nipped under your jaw, "Look so pretty in it, but I gotta get you all warmed up don't I? My poor little mate, not used to the cold."
Now that he was with you, you wanted, needed, every bit of contact with his body you could get. The sweater, so warm and comforting before, now felt like a tremendously itchy obstacle keeping you from him. "Want it off," you complained, trying to find your voice around another moan as he rutted his hips into you again, hard even through his leathers.
He chuckled as he fisted the hem and started pulling it up your body. "Wear it again for me later?"
You nodded as he pulled it over your head and tossed it over the back of the couch. Distantly, you hoped Rhys had the good sense to send his brothers away for a little while since you had stopped hearing them moving around outside, but had no time to ask as he started kissing his way down your body, pausing to give some attention to your peaked nipples. A whine tore from your throat as he swirled his tongue over one and then the other.
"Love when you make those little noises for me," he purred into your mind, not wanting to remove his lips from your body to speak.
"Rhys," you whimpered, body arching into him as he nipped at your sensitive skin.
"You're gonna look so pretty, all marked up under my sweater later," he sent an image of you, covered in hickeys from your throat to your hips down the bond as he continued to move slowly down your body.
Rhys liked to push you, liked to see how worked up he could get you, first with that silver tongue of his, then his hands, he could keep this up for hours. You, however, where so desperate for more friction, to fill the ache now burning between your legs, bucked your hips, squirming underneath him now. "Please. Need you."
He scraped his teeth along he hem of your underwear, humming his approval. Rhys grinned against your skin, all male satisfaction as he held your hips in place. "So impatient. I thought you were freezing to death in here? Don't you want to get warm, Darling?"
Warm? Your skin was on fire in every spot he had touched, the warmth of his body spreading to every point of contact he gave. It was becoming too much and not enough, you needed more, more, more.
"Please!"
He caught the hem of your panties in his teeth and pulled them slowly down your hips, hands skimming your hips and thighs, kneading soft skin. Your legs widened for him automatically, instinctively, despite the fact that you were now uncomfortably wet from his ministrations.
He ran his tongue against your center, humming his approval, blasting it down the bond. "So wet, and I've barely even touched you."
You pinched your eyes shut, overwhelmed already. He really was too damn good at this. No amount of time would ever be enough to satisfy the well of need you had for him. You blasted that desperation, that ache for him right down the bond as words failed you, as he continued his exploration of your dripping core with his tongue. Stars erupted behind your closed eyelids as he chuckled down the bond, pleased with your reactions to his body.
You were sure you were begging for him, whimpering and pleading nonsense as he worked you closer and closer to the edge, but the words faded in and out of your consciousness. There was only Rhys, the movements of his tongue, the feeling of his fingertips digging pleasantly tight in your hips, the heat of skin wherever it touched you. Your eyes rolled back into your head, body arching, hands tangling in his hair as the edge rose up to meet and you and you toppled over it with a scream that sounded an awful lot like your mate's name.
"Such a good girl," he purred as he lapped up the evidence of your pleasure.
You're whole body shook as he kissed his way back up your body, grinning against your flushed skin the whole way. He was so warm, when he kissed you again, the taste of your release still on his plush lips, your only thoughts were on how you could get more of that warmth, until it has seeped into your bones, erased any trace of the cold that had laid so deep beneath.
You threaded your hands in his hair, now a mess across his forehead, whimpering. "Need you still."
He grinned as he caught your lower lip between his teeth in a playful nip. "I know, love."
You moved a hand to the small of his back, pulling him closer.
"You'll have me until there are no longer stars in the sky." The bond flooded with more warmth and affection, as deep as your need for him ran, his was equal, there was no end to what he could give you.
You kissed him again, even as your legs wrapped around his waist, a bit of magic finally removing those damned leathers. Maybe you'd ask him to put them back on later, so you could enjoy the sight of him in the aftermath as much as he would you, but those were questions for later.
"I love you," you whimpered as he finally slide into you, slowly, casually, like there was all the time in the world for the two of you to enjoy each other.
He fit like he was made just for you, the stretch just uncomfortable for a moment before the pleasure made your back arch and your toes curl. He moaned into your throat, pushing his nose into your sweat dampened skin, inhaling your scent as he pushed all the way in to you.
You wondered, distantly, if the stars you were seeing were his making, or something that appeared for him too. The way he panted into your skin as he rocked his hips, testing you, made you think he saw them too.
"So perfect," he moaned as he slid almost fully out.
Your nails clawed at his shoulders, begging for him to come back and he plunged back in a little more forcefully this time, the couch groaning beneath the two of you.
You rocked your hips to meet his thrusts, hands still trailing down the contours of his spine in a move that would be sure to leave marks of your own. He nipped at your neck and shoulders when you pushed too hard, skin breaking beneath your fingertips, but you knew he didn't mind, know he relished in being marked up by you, like it was a badge of honor. You'd leave hickeys on him afterwards, when the pleasure building between your legs wasn't so white hot, when you could focus your attention somewhere other than the need burning it's way through you.
His hand snaked down between your legs, drawing you closer and closer to the edge again.
"Rhys," a prayer, a mantra, the only thing that made sense as pleasure turned all rational thought to mush.
"I've got you," he rasped in your ear, every muscle taught as he rocked into you again and again and again. His pace was quickly becoming more frantic, his breath hot on your throat as he moaned into your skin. It was that sound, so desperate and low right beneath your ear, coupled with the movement of his deft fingers, the angle of his cock inside you, all hurtling you so quickly towards the edge that you didn't notice it was there until you toppled over it. Your mate followed with a roar, his own release warm inside you.
You clung to him, trembling, panting, as you came down from your high, the familiar weight of him atop you grounding in the aftermath. He snaked an arm around you as he positioned the two of you on your sides, sharing the couch now. You buried your face in the crook of his neck as he kissed the top of your head, gently.
"Warm now, darling?" He asked softly, a hint of teasing still there, even as he recovered his breath.
He hadn't pulled out of you yet; you bit your lip in thought as you tossed a leg over his, bringing you flush against his hips. You were sensitive, the movement made you wince a little, but even after all that, you still wanted more of him. Perhaps it would never be enough. Like the Illyrians that called this frigid place home, there was always going to be something that pushed you back towards the fire, that damned insatiable need to get warm.
"I think I'm still a little cold," you purred, eyes glinting playfully.
Your mate chuckled at the challenge in your tone, violet eyes narrowing into where you were still joined. "Can't have that, can we?"
The fire roared in the fireplace, a bit of your mate's magic flaring, making sure there was more heat in the cabin, before his lips were on yours again, chasing away any hint of cold before it could touch you.
742 notes
·
View notes
exoplanet p.3
pairing: ellie williams x fem! reader (ur a girly girl in this one!!) (she/her pronouns)
summary: you’ve won the life lottery as one of the few people on earth with parents who gained admittance to the most prestigous safezone in the world after the outbreak. but after a lab accident sends you out to jackson, wyoming, real life hits you fast. it’s a good thing that a hot lesbian finds u. (lol). mean ellie at first, slowburn, enemies to friends to lovers, fem reader asf
warnings: (PLEASE READ!) explicit language, violence, description of a medical procedure sans anesthesia, recreational drug use (idk how else to put it ellie gets absolutely zonked in the beginning), reader overthinks asf and is a little neurotic but that's why we love her x
a/n: hey guys! thank you so much for the wait! it's been genuinely insane how sweet and incredible all of you are. i've never felt so appreciated for my writing!! also, some notes: this chapter is heavily inspired by my last relationship. sorry if it's not as immersive bc of it! and also i don't have ANY medical knowledge so...cast a blind eye when u get to that scene
part 1
part 2
tags: @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @parkersmyth @pinkazelma
wc: 6.6k
enjoy x
“One more time.”
You gave Ellie a withering look from where you were sitting at the end of her bed.
“Please,” she said, drawing out the s. “Just once more. I promise.”
“Fine.” You rolled your eyes—a habit of hers that you were quickly picking up—and took in a deep breath. “Fuck.”
Ellie lost it, peals of laughter bouncing off the walls. “Another one. Say something else.”
“I don’t understand why you think this is so funny,” you said.
“You say it so weird.”
“I enunciate,” you clarified. “I don’t ‘sound weird’. It’s called pronouncing every letter in the word and not having a lazy mouth.”
“Please,” she gasped. “At least say bitch. You haven’t said that one yet.”
You looked her dead in the eye. “Bitch.”
If you weren’t already certain that Ellie was high out of her mind by the smell of her room and the general haze in the air, the way she howled with laughter and fell back on her bed would’ve made you entirely positive.
This was new. You’d begun to hang out with her in her room after dinner—that was normal—but when she’d knocked on your door smelling heavily of weed once you’d said goodnight to Joel, you were nothing less than shocked. Of course, she had none left for you. Which was probably good, because only a sober mind could navigate a night sitting on Ellie’s bed without doing something really, really stupid.
“I can’t believe you call me weird,” you said, tucking your feet under her and giving her a pointed look.
“You’re so lucky you didn’t grow up where I did,” Ellie said, wiping a tear away from her cheek as she tried (unsuccessfully) to rein in her giggles. “You would’ve been eaten alive, good lord.”
“What were you like as a kid?” you asked, resting your chin on your knees.
She considered for a moment, growing more somber. “Um…I don’t know if you would’ve liked me very much.”
“What do you mean? Of course I would’ve liked you.”
“No,” she said, swiping at her face so she pushed a strand of hair away. “I don’t think you would have.”
“Why not?”
“I was…” She paused, picking at her cuticles. “Back then I didn’t have anyone. I was an orphan, you know. My parents were never in the picture, so I was the only one I could count on. I was really rough around the edges and could be nasty. But I probably would’ve ignored you like I did everyone else. “
“Everyone? You didn’t have anyone? No friends at all?”
Ellie blinked, and her gaze remained fixed on her hands. “Basically, yeah. I mean, there was one girl, but that’s…I don’t want to talk about that right now, actually.”
“That’s okay,” you said, reaching forward to touch her knee. She flinched at the contact but didn’t brush you away. The image of a young, scared Ellie living somewhere alone made your chest ache. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“What were you like?” she asked, tilting her head and meeting your eyes.
“Hmmm…” Mirth crept into your tone. “What do you think?”
“What do I think?” Ellie echoed, her eyes cloudy as she thought. Then a small smirk formed on her face. “Oh god, were you one of those spoiled brats? Were you a mean girl?”
“God, no,” you said, raising your eyebrows. “Not mean.”
“Then what?”
You paused. “I was really shy, I guess. And quiet, too. I didn’t do much but read for a good 10 years of my life. I used to have awful pronunciation because I would spend more time reading than talking to anyone. But I think I would’ve liked you.”
Ellie shook her head.
“Yes,” you said. “Maybe I would’ve been a little scared of you. I probably would’ve never had the courage to talk to you. But I would’ve liked you, I think.”
“Scared of me?”
“Yeah.”
“Why? I was a kid.”
“I was mostly going off of how I felt when I actually first met you,” you said, shrugging.
She gasped theatrically. “You’re scared of me?”
“No!” you said, smacking her knee. “That’s not what I mean. You’re just really intimidating.”
“Intimidating?” She looked at you incredulously.
“You’re so tough,” you explained, feeling heat grow in your cheeks. “You seem just—I don’t know, just so capable. There’s nothing you’re too afraid to face, nothing you’re too afraid to say.”
“That’s not true,” she said lightly.
“Well, of course I’m sure there are things that you’re afraid of,” you amended. “But you hide it so well. You just seem so…fearless.”
“Hm,” Ellie said, letting her head rest against the headboard. “I think you would’ve made me a nervous wreck. If we’d met when we were kids, I mean.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you before. You’re just so untouched.” She winced. “God, no. That sounds gross. I just mean…I dunno. I wouldn’t have known how to act around you. You haven’t had to harden up like everyone else I know.”
“Are you saying I should develop trust issues or something?” you asked, your voice a teasing lilt.
“You know,” she said, nodding seriously, “That is part of it. It was really off-putting how quickly you trusted me. But I guess that’s just a product of where you grew up.”
“Yeah,” you said softly. “I wonder how I would’ve turned out if I’d grown up like you.”
“Can I be honest?” Ellie asked.
“Sure.”
“I don’t think you’d still be here if you were me,” she said, her eyes crinkling. “No offense. You just have zero survival skills. I swear that shit has to be genetic. I’ve never met someone more averse to violence in my life.”
You sighed, pressed your hands deep into Ellie’s comforter as a thought hit you. “I think if you’d been born in my position, you would’ve been greater than anything either of us could ever dream of. Much greater than me.”
“Definitely not,” said Ellie. “There’s no fucking way I’m studying the way you apparently do. I honestly think I’d take being an orphan over the study schedule I saw in your bag.”
She was of course referencing the time table you’d roughly sketched up the morning before you’d ended up in Jackson. It was blocked to the minute, citing the study content and the location of said study session. She’d been beyond horrified to see it.
You laughed, nudging her socked food with yours.
“Is there music? In Terranova?”
“Oh,” you said, startled at the abrupt change of subject. “Uh, yeah. Of course. I listened to it all the time.”
“I used to have a Walkman,” she said, leaning back as she reminisced. She was lying flat on her back now. “It ended up breaking a while ago, but it was like my child.”
“Have you ever seen a movie before?” you asked, sitting up rigid straight as the thought occurred to you.
“Duh,” she said, giving you a weird look. “Do you think I live under a rock?”
“How many?”
“Hm.” Ellie began counting, ending on her second hand. “I think 6?”
“You’ve seen a total of 6 movies in your life?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you want to see more?”
She shrugged. “I mean, I guess. It’s just tough to find CDs that are still functional after so long.”
“Hold that thought,” you said, holding a finger in her direction as you stood up.
“Hey!” she called as you bolted out the door. “Where are you going?”
You came bounding back to her room in a matter of seconds, your laptop in your hands.
“What the fuck?” she said. “Isn’t that your homework thing?”
“Yes,” you said, feeling around for an outlet, “But I also have a ridiculous amount of movies downloaded on this. Our dorm wi-fi is shit and I have way too much storage on this thing, so I just download, like, every movie I’ve ever wanted to watch.”
“Your dorm what?”
You waved your hand. The last thing you wanted to do was explain to her how the 802.11 standard allowed wireless connections a few years after the outbreak. “Not important. Here, come look at this.”
Your laptop roared to light with the help of your charging cord. Quickly, you typed your password in and opened your downloads. Ellie hovered over your shoulder, squinting at the screen with confusion.
“Here,” you said, opening up the album that had everything you had seen for your entire university career and passing the laptop to Ellie. “Use the touchpad—there, yeah—to navigate. Press to click. These are all movie files that I’ve seen. We can watch them on my laptop. Some of them were filmed in Terranova, too, so they’re post-apocalypse.”
She perused the selection you had for quite some time, the glow of the screen lighting up her face against the dim room. “Okay. This one.”
And thus began a tradition. Each night after you’d finished showering and Joel retired to his room, Ellie would come knock on your door and ask if you wanted to come over. You’d talk for a while, then open your laptop and pick something out to watch. Ellie was never high after the first time, which was unsurprising considering that there definitely wasn’t a way to get any in Jackson. Where she found any the first time was still a mystery to you.
~
A week or so after your first patrol with Ellie, Joel had taken it upon himself to teach you how to shoot. You were surprisingly not as bad as you’d expected, but the rebound was tough to get used to, and you were still hung up over the whole “killing living things” part.
Your first patrol—first real one—came quickly, and before you knew it, Ellie was handing you the same gun you’d dropped the first time with a suspicious look.
“Don’t kill one of us with that thing,” she warned. “Be smart, okay?”
“Sure thing, boss,” you said to her, mock saluting as best you could while you were leading Japan to the mounting block.
She rolled her eyes. “Please act normal or I’ll make you carry around that glorified pocket knife instead again.”
The patrol began as usual, Ellie leading you down the same path you went last time. It was a beautiful day out, with the early spring sun filtering through the evergreen trees that populated the woods and birdsong filling the air.
Though conversations with Ellie were getting easier (given that it actually seemed like she wanted to talk to you now), you were still starstruck. Nothing that you did and nothing that you thought could get you to stop seeing her the way you did. You were routinely distracted by everything about her. It was a wonder that you could even function as a normal person around her, much less handle a weapon and a horse.
You two had nearly made the full rotation when your surroundings exploded in action.
“Fuck,” Ellie hissed as someone behind you two fired a shot that narrowly missed Shimmer.
You whipped around, gun in hand, to see two men—two normal men who weren’t infected. One held a bow, the other a gun.
The one who had fired the first shot never even stood a chance. He was down on the ground seconds after you’d seen him, Ellie’s aim taking him out before you could even ready your gun.
The second man notched an arrow and managed to draw it back and release into the air right as Ellie’s bullet struck him, sending him falling back.
“I don’t think there’s any more,” said Ellie, slightly breathless as she scanned the forest. “Sometimes outsiders pull this shit—try to kill us for our supplies. I’ve never seen them this close to the wall, though. I’ll have to tell Maria and Tommy.”
Normally, you would’ve felt up to making some sort of sarcastic comment about how that was a really unconcerning thing for her to tell you and that you actually felt so much more comfortable going on patrol knowing that there were also just run-of-the-mill people trying to kill you, but a twinge in your lower body distracted you.
Slowly, nervously, you looked down. Air immediately left your lungs.
“At least we’re done,” Ellie was saying, wiping her hands off on her thighs and slinging the gun over her shoulder. “What a crazy end for your first actual patrol, huh?”
When you didn’t answer, she turned to you and saw the arrow sticking out of your side,
“Shit,” said Ellie, jumping off Shimmer and reaching you in seconds. “Shit, shit, shit. Oh god.”
“Am I going to die?” you asked, staring starstruck at the blood escaping the outline of the arrowhead. You couldn’t feel anything anymore. Were you in shock?
“No,” said Ellie firmly. “Absolutely not. Do you need help getting off?”
Before you could answer, she was already helping you down, carefully avoiding the protruding arrow.
“Listen,” she said, back to being her unwavering self, “We’re right by the wall. I’m going to help you walk in, and then I’ll grab some supplies, okay? Don’t try to pull the arrow out. You hear me? Don’t.”
Swallowing hard, you nodded. She helped you walk the few steps to be carefully concealed by the wall, then grabbed the two horses and darted past you, making a break for Maria and Tommy’s cabin.
In a haze of confusion, you could see Maria running out, holding a box out to Ellie in exchange for the reins of the horses. Ellie said something that made Maria point towards you. She nodded, then ran back to you.
By the time that she’d reached you, the shock had begun to wear off, replaced by the stinging pain from the object that had impaled you. It was worse than anything you’d ever felt before in your life, and it took all you had not to keel over.
“Hey,” she said, reaching out to grab your face so you had to look at her. “Don’t be afraid. I’ve done this before, okay? I’m, like, the master. It’s going to be alright.”
“Done what before?” you managed to grind out.
Ellie let go of your face to dig through the box Maria had given her, producing a needle, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and what looked like a spool of thin thread.
Horror slowly trickled through you as you realized what was about to happen.
“It doesn’t look all that deep,” Ellie was saying as she examined the arrow. “So I don’t think it’s hit anything. It’s just going to be a nasty hole. I’m going to pull it out now, okay?”
You let out a strangled scream as she grasped the arrow’s end and yanked it out without warning.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Ellie repeated. She threw the arrow over her shoulder and knelt so she was hovering over you. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you gasped. You were most certainly not. You couldn’t quite get your eyes to focus, and your heart was beating out of your chest.
“Alright,” she said firmly, grasping your shoulders and pulling you up so you were slumped against the wall. “Sit up straight, alright? Also, this is going to hurt.”
At first there were just snipping sounds as she cut part of your shirt away—then something cool and wet pressed to your wound. You cried out again as a fresh white hot pain bloomed in your middle.
“I know, I know.” Ellie’s voice was consoling as she reached up to brush away the sweaty strands of hair stuck to your forehead. “Just a few more seconds.”
“Fuck—off—” you gritted out from your teeth.
Ellie’s eyebrows shot up. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Just this once.”
She released the alcohol-saturated cotton pad, throwing it aside and fussing with the thread and needle until she was satisfied.
By the time her fingers were ghosting over your abdomen again, you couldn’t pull your eyes away from the puncture wound and the needle she was wielding.
“Don’t look,” said Ellie. “Pick something else. You don’t need to watch.”
“I hate needles,” you whispered, choosing the air over her shoulder to be your focal point.
There was a prodding at the top of your wound, and you hissed.
“I can’t say I’m a fan myself.”
Something pierced through your skin, and your midriff exploded in pain.
The edges of your sight went fuzzy, stars forming in the corners of your vision. Someone that sounded suspiciously like you cried out. Your cheek rammed up against something solid and warm.
Once the initial sting had faded, you realized that you’d slumped into Ellie, your face buried into her neck. She didn’t make any move to push you off, instead just taking one hand to brush up and down your arm with a feather light touch.
“You're fine," she said firmly. "Everything's going to be fine."
Your fingers curled around the hem of her shirt as the needle exited through the other end of your wound, pulling another whine from your throat. It was easier to not feel like you were about to pass out when you were crushed into Ellie, clinging onto her and just focusing on the way she felt against you.
“Hang on, I'm almost there,” she muttered a few stitches later. You’d quieted down, only letting out the occasional gasp as she pulled the thread through. “You're doing so well. Just one more.”
Now that you were more conscious, you had no idea how she was managing to stitch your side while you were nearly on her lap, but she continued to weave her needle through your skin, pulling it taut.
“And done,” said Ellie. You felt her take another cotton square to swipe against your skin.
You laid against her for a few more moments, panting as the shock slowly began to fade. She shifted, and for a moment you were sure that she was going to shove you away, but then the hand she’d lifted hesitantly rested on your head, her fingers parting to card through your hair.
“How did you learn how to do that?” you asked, your voice muffled from where you were pressed against her.
“Trial and error.”
Her joke was enough for you to finally let go, sitting back against the wall. Her hand slithered out of your hair, resting back in her lap.
“Shut up,” you said. “That’s awful.”
Ellie shrugged.
“I’m sorry,” you said, feeling the bumpiness of the stony wall press into your back. “I have a really low pain tolerance.”
“So I’ve noticed,” said Ellie, the side of her mouth quirking.
“I’ve never been hurt before,” you heard yourself saying. “Like, beyond the occasional splinter or bee sting or accidental scrape or ankle sprain. It’s just not something that happens.”
“Must be nice.”
You smiled sadly. “Yeah. It’s not nice being weak, though.”
Ellie looked away from you then, silent as she packed up the first-aid kit. Then: “I don’t think that’s true.”
She’d said it lightly, like it was meant to be an offhand comment, a throwaway addition that wouldn’t be remembered by either of you. But the sentiment still struck you, twisting your heart.
You were less capable because your survival had never required anything more. You were weak because you could be.
Her voice from the night she’d been high floated back to you. You haven't had to harden up like everyone else I know.
Out here, weakness was a luxury few could afford.
“Not so untouched anymore, huh?” you said, since you didn’t know how else to respond.
“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t,” quipped Ellie. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t lose sleep over it. I still consider needing to be held to get 4 stitches as being soft. You haven’t changed a bit. No offense.”
Your cheeks burned bright red. “I—”
“I’m teasing,” she said before you could defend yourself. “Arrow wounds suck. I get it.”
“Right.” You turned away, keeping your gaze fixed firmly on the ground beside you. With feeling more yourself came the inevitable shame at what you’d just done. What had you been thinking, touching her like that? Grabbing onto her like that?
This was going to haunt you for the rest of your life.
“Don’t make that face,” said Ellie. “I’m sorry for saying that. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It really is fine.”
It was not fine. It would never be fine. You wanted the thugs to come back to life and finish you off, and then have the earth open up and swallow you for good measure.
Ellie probably thought of you as an overgrown child. You doubted that there was ever a point where she could see you as anything equal. If she ever knew how often she appeared in your imagination, she’d probably be disgusted.
She called you pretty a contrarian voice in your head reminded you. Don't you remember?
But maybe she hadn’t meant it. She hadn’t said it explicitly: “Y/N, I think you’re pretty.” She just hadn’t argued when you’d pointed it out. Maybe because she was being nice, or maybe because she was actually being sarcastic.
“You were really brave, okay?” said Ellie. “Your first armed confrontation and you did well.”
“I didn’t shoot anyone.”
“It could have gone worse,” said Ellie. “You could’ve accidentally shot me. Or died. And neither of those things happened, so that’s successful in my book.”
“That’s very glass half-full of you.”
“That’s me. Ever the optimist.”
You snorted.
~
That night, Ellie knocked on your door and asked you if you were up for another movie. You found yourself sitting on her comforter, plugging in your computer and booting it up minutes later.
Physically speaking, it had always been a little awkward to fit two people on her twin bed if they weren’t right next to each other, given that your laptop screen was a very unimpressive size. When you’d first started watching with her, Ellie would rest against the headboard, her legs stretched out in front of you while you would sit with your legs crossed, positioned sideways so you weren’t accidentally pushing her legs off.
But after the day you had had, your back was sore and your whole body ached. Sitting on something soft without any back support as you angled yourself to look at the screen was quickly proving unsustainable.
“Pause,” said Ellie about ten minutes in. You’d been watching an older sci-fi flick—Ellie’s choice.
You complied, leaning forward and pressing the spacebar. “What’s up?”
“Are you even comfortable sitting like that?”
“Yeah,” you said.
“Liar,” accused Ellie, crossing her arms over her chest. “Don’t think I don’t see you ‘discreetly’ cracking your back every 2 minutes. It’s ruining the movie.”
“Sorry,” you said, shaking your head and smiling in exasperation. “It’s from all the years I spent hunched over a textbook.”
“You know, you can sit up here,” she said, patting the space beside her. “I don’t bite.”
“Jury’s still out on that,” you said, though by the time Ellie let out a laugh you were already unfolding your legs and moving so you were next to her.
She leaned forward, grabbing the bottom half of the laptop and lifting it. “Hey, do you want a blanket?”
“Sure.”
Ellie’s other hand grabbed the edge of her comforter and held it up.
Hesitantly, you slid your legs under and watched as Ellie did the same, awkwardly holding the laptop in the air before you were both settled enough to rest it on your covered right thigh and her left. “Better?”
When you nodded, she reached her tattooed arm out and pressed play. The audio picked back up, but you couldn’t for the life of you focus on the movie.
When Ellie had asked if you’d wanted a blanket, you were expecting her to toss the throw blanket that would really only fit one person at you, not invite you to get under the blankets with her. That was significantly more intimate.
You two were sitting close enough that your sides were touching, from shoulder to thigh. You could feel her chest lift with each breath, feel the heat coming off of her.
After a while, Ellie properly laid down, taking the laptop and hoisting it up so it rested on her lower abdomen as she settled into her pillow.
You gulped, your eyes flickering between her face and the screen. Ellie’s gaze was fixed intently on the screen, her eyes half lidded with exhaustion.
You could be tired too. You weren’t, of course—your heart was racing a thousand miles an hour. But she didn’t know that. It was normal to lay down next to her, right? You’d done that with Irena more times than you could count, and it was never weird. Yeah, you could do that.
Also, if you were totally horizontal, you would stop getting distracted by the sliver of her skin that her crooked shirt showed of her chest.
In a moment of blind courage, you scooted down so your head was lying right next to Ellie’s. She didn’t seem to react, just extending her hand from under the covers to steady the laptop as it wobbled from the movement.
Her sheets smelled like the soap that you used to wash your hair—a cottony freshness that had the slightest hint of lavender.
“Are you going to fall asleep on me?” asked Ellie after a while, her voice nothing more than a whisper.
“I could ask you the same thing,” you responded, equally quiet. Then, because you hadn’t made enough rash decisions for the night, you angled your head so it rested in the space right above her shoulder.
She inhaled sharply but didn’t move. On her next exhale a piece of her auburn hair tickled your forehead.
“How’re your stitches?” she asked suddenly, like she'd just remembered.
“They’re okay. I think. As stitches go.”
“After this is over, I’ll check on them,” she said. “Don’t let me forget, okay?”
“Okay,” you whispered, suddenly feeling shy. It was one thing for her to cut off your shirt and see your skin when she was trying to save your life while you were mentally gone. It was another thing altogether to pull up your shirt without adrenaline coursing through you.
You didn’t pay any attention to the rest of the movie, instead hyperfocused on the rhythm of Ellie’s breathing and the fact that if you moved just a little your chin would be on her shoulder.
Her mention of the stitches wasn’t helping at all, either. Now all you could think about was the embarrassing way you’d basically tried to crawl under her skin, burying your face into her and clutching at her clothes like you were a child.
A part of you was disappointed that you hadn’t been more lucid at the time. If you had, you would’ve been able to clearly remember the softness of her skin against yours. You would’ve been able to enjoy it for what it was—the only time you’d be able to touch her like that.
Because you couldn’t go around just grabbing onto her shirt and getting into her lap. That was a one-off, the only time that the rules were waived. You couldn’t touch her like that now, now that you didn’t have any excuse. It wasn’t allowed.
But sometimes you wanted to so badly that it hurt.
The movie ended abruptly, wrenching you out of your thoughts.
“Hey,” whispered Ellie. “Sit up so I can see.”
Reluctantly, you pressed yourself up from your back and began rolling up the hem of your shirt. Ellie twisted to face backwards, her thin top riding up and showing part of her back as she reached for the lamp.
Once golden light returned to the room, Ellie turned back and bumped your hands away. She bent over, tilting her head so that she was looking at the stitches straight on.
They didn’t look bad, you had to admit. Though you wouldn’t consider the actual experience of getting the stitches a 5-star experience, Ellie had clearly known what she was doing. The surrounding flesh didn’t look angry or irritated, and she’d pulled the stitches just tight enough without it puckering.
She prodded at the side, then gave a satisfied nod. “Looks good. What did I tell you? I’m really good at this sort of stuff.”
“I think you would’ve made a really good doctor,” you said once she’d sat up straight again. “Under different circumstances.”
“Is this you telling me that you don’t think I’m a good doctor now?” she teased.
“Your bedside manner could use some work,” you offered.
Ellie laughed then, shaking her head and crossing her arms over her chest. “Yeah, yeah. You lived. You'll get over it.”
“Did you go to school?” you found yourself asking, hung up on the thought of Ellie as a potential medical student. If she’d been in one of your intro biology classes, you never would’ve been able to pay attention. That was a fantasy you could shelve away for later.
“Sort of,” said Ellie, looking down at her arms. “I went to a military prep school run by FEDRA. I didn’t graduate though—obviously. I was long gone by then.”
“Right,” you said, remembering that she’d mentioned that she’d been 14 when she’d left Boston. “And what was it like?”
She paused, opening her mouth before closing it. “It was—unkind. Joel's told me about schools before the outbreak. It was nothing like that. There were some normal classes, but most of it was meant to prepare us to be soldiers.”
“Is that where you learned how to do sutures?”
“Among other things.”
Terranova had no military academies, given that there was hardly any military presence. The founder of Terranova had bodyguards and there was a police force that controlled the borders, but it was nothing like Ellie described. With invisible borders and a social order that valued peace and tranquility over all else, there was no real danger posed to any of the citizens.
But from what you had learned from movies and books and comments from older people, you had gathered a very dim picture of what a military academy looked like—harsh, strict, and cruel.
“I’m sorry you had to grow up like that,” you said.
“It’s okay.”
“Is there anything you would want to study? If you could?”
Ellie’s eyes closed. “Yeah. There are a couple things.”
She did not elaborate.
~
It didn’t take long for you two to settle back into your routine of meeting in her room each evening and watching one of your downloaded movies. Following the night after you’d gotten your stitches, you wouldn’t even have to ask—Ellie would pull up her comforter and let you slide in next to her without giving you a second glance.
You’d also gotten over the fear of touching her. Now, when you flopped back so your head was on her pillow, you’d adjust until you were nestled into the crook of her neck. She never once reacted to it, remaining perfectly still unless she was adjusting the laptop or messing with the sound.
Because it was normal, of course. You and Irena would rest your head on each other’s shoulders sometimes. That was something that friends did.
One night a week or so into April, you and Ellie made a harrowing discovery: there was only one movie left in your collection that you two hadn’t seen together.
“Damn,” said Ellie, furrowing her brow. “And there’s no way to get more on here?”
“I’m afraid not,” you said, frowning. “To download more or stream one, I’d need either an Ethernet cable or a wi-fi connection. Neither of which function out here anymore without cell towers and maintained cables.”
“Right,” said Ellie, though her face told you that she didn’t understand a word that had come out of your mouth. “So—this is it?”
“Yeah.” Your finger hovered over the play button. “Savor it, I guess.”
When you settled back and into her side, the heavy weight of dread settled into your stomach. Now that you’d finished showing her your entire collection, it’s not like she’d have a reason to invite you over every night. And there was especially no reason for you two to lie so closely together unless you were both trying to watch something on a small screen.
Once again, your excuse to touch her was gone.
You pressed closer to her as your mind raced. There was no way that Ellie didn’t see what you were doing as platonic, right? Was it possible that she was creeped out by how touchy you were but just tolerated it to be nice?
Maybe. You swallowed hard, keeping your eyes fixed on the screen. Ellie didn’t see you like…like that. She spoke to you like you were an obligation, a burden. Because you always had been. You’d been a responsibility thrust on her by a father figure who felt like he was indebted to you from that stupid bag of coffee you were lucky enough to bring.
Oh, god. Had Joel told her to befriend you? Had he asked for Ellie to pretend like she enjoyed spending time with you and to put up with your privileged, soft-hearted nonsense?
The knowledge that you were spiraling wasn’t enough to stop you. You did the best that you could—tried to remind yourself that it’d been a while since she’d looked disgusted with you, recall that she was outspoken enough to tell you to fuck off if you did something she didn’t like—but it was to no avail.
Ellie reached forward and hit pause on the movie, thrusting you both into silence.
“Is everything okay?” she asked after a moment.
“Yeah, why?”
“I can feel your heart going, like, crazy fast.”
You froze. “Oh. Uh, yeah. I was just thinking.”
Ellie pushed the laptop off of her, sitting up to give you an odd look. “About a near death experience or something? You running a marathon up there? That shit’s not normal.”
You laughed nervously. “It’s really nothing. Just an, uh, suspenseful movie.”
Which was actually really stupid of you to say, because you were watching some obscure Tarkovsky film that did nothing but pan over burning buildings and pensive men. For the past 5 minutes, there had been nothing on screen but the back of a car driving through traffic with minimal sound. Also, it was in Russian, and the English subtitles made zero sense.
There was a reason why this was the last movie you chose.
“This is the most boring fucking movie I’ve ever watched in my life, so you’re a dirty fucking liar,” said Ellie. Then her face pinched in worry. “Wait. Have you taken a look at your stitches lately?”
Before you could answer, she was grabbing a flashlight off her nightstand and yanking the comforter off you. She was pulling your shirt up when you finally found your voice.
“Wait!” you said, grabbing the bottom of your shirt and yanking it back in place. “It’s not—I don’t have an infection, okay? There’s nothing wrong with me. I really was just thinking, okay?”
“About what?” She reached back to place her flashlight back on the stand without taking her eyes off you.
“It’s nothing important.”
“If you say so.”
She picked the laptop up and placed it back on her thighs, lying back down. You followed suit, but this time you didn’t touch her, opting to keep as much distance as you could so she wouldn’t hear the stuttering of your heart.
Not even 5 minutes had passed before Ellie sat up to pause the video again.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“No. Why?”
“You’re acting weird,” she accused, but there wasn’t much conviction behind her voice.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you’re acting weird,” she repeated, shutting your laptop off and moving it to the bottom of her bed, despite the protests that left your lips.
“I don’t understand,” you said. “I’m just watching the movie. I’m not doing anything. “
“You’re not watching the movie,” she said. “You weren’t even looking at the screen. What’s got you so bothered? Did I do something?”
“Of course not.” You pulled your legs under you so your legs were crossed and your back was against the wall. “You don’t need to worry. It’s honestly fine. I’m sorry if I’ve done something to imply otherwise.”
Ellie rubbed the bridge of her nose, sighing. “You stress me out. You can just tell me, you know? No need to be so cagey. I promise I’ve heard worse.”
“Don’t be so quick to say that.”
“Okay, now you have to tell me,” she said. “I’m never going to know peace again with a hook like that.”
You were about to open your mouth to tell her that it was stupid and that it didn’t matter, but something stopped you.
That was the coward’s way out. That’s what you’d always done—hid your feelings and concealed your emotions. That’s how you’d been raised. That’s how you thought everyone was. But now that you’d spent 2 months in Jackson, you’d realized that some people actually just said what they thought. And that, in the grand scheme of things, it was a better system than the Terranovian culture of superficiality.
Just because the you 2 months ago would have shook her head and changed the subject didn’t mean the you now had to.
Maybe this you could be different. Maybe, for once, this you could be brave.
“I really—” You stopped yourself. Saying I really like you didn’t even begin to encompass what you felt for the girl sitting across from you. To distill the sheer magnitude of your feelings down to four words felt criminal. The swell in your chest that never went away whenever you were near her could never and would never be adequately represented in the puny offerings of the Latin alphabet and the English language, and if you were going to do this, you were going to do it right.
You dared to look up at her for a moment. She was completely still, her green eyes reflecting the dim moonlight from outside. Once you met her gaze, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull it away.
“I’m really sorry that I’m putting you in an uncomfortable position for saying this,” you began (because old habits ran deep, and you would rather die than be impolite), “And I totally understand if you don’t want to talk to me after this. And I’m sorry for not telling you earlier.”
“As much as I’m sure that this is some sort of cultural cornerstone for you, please spare me the 6 foot long disclaimer script,” Ellie drawled.
“Right.” You gulped. “Anyway. As I was saying.”
“Any day now.”
At that moment, she had never looked more perfect. Your eyes had adjusted to the dark lighting, so the weak moonlight that spilled in from the window above her created a halo around her head.
“It’s you.” Your voice came out tiny. “You’re all that I can think about, and I don’t know what to do.”
There. It was off your chest.
For a moment, it was as if you’d suspended time, stopping Earth on its axis as you both held your breaths. There was nothing but silence and the occasional wooden creak of the old house’s foundation in the wind.
Ellie’s face betrayed nothing, save for something in her eyes and the disappearance of the smirk that had been on her lips moments before.
Then she spoke, her response whispered.
“Come here, then.”
final a/n: NOW HOLD ON before you show up outside my dorm with pitchforks and torches 🗣️🗣️🗣️ i'm so sorry but this was a necessary evil as this was going to a massive scene without the chapter break. also a disproportionately massive chapter compared to the other ones coming out. i write very quickly and should get the following part out in a timeframe similar to the first 3 parts. thank u for reading ! tell me what you think abt this chapter while you wait x
1K notes
·
View notes