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loaksky · 6 months

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i don’t celebrate thanksgiving, but could you guys imagine college!ellie taking roommate!reader home to jackson because she’d be alone for the holiday? short lil oneshot to get back into the groove of writing. do i hate this? yes.

recommended songs: alabama haint — penny and sparrow + what once was — her’s

warnings: language, a few brief mentions of family issues, suggestive content (kissing among other things) + mild sexual content, a lil misunderstanding and angst bc who am i if i don’t ??, CONFESSIONS because i’m a sloot for them. i think that’s it? not proofread ofc heh

it’s the weekend before thanksgiving, sunday to be exact, and ellie’s packing her backpack for joel’s. the energy in the the room’s a little off despite the fact that you’re normally reserved, and even though the two of you have only met this year, ellie’s learned to read you pretty well.

“you goin’ home for thanksgiving?” ellie asks absently, trying to make small talk as she rolls a sleep shirt and some pajamas haphazardly to stuff at the top of her bag.

there’s a pause that makes her brain itch before she sees the way you shake your head from where you’re hunched over a textbook at your desk.

“my family’s all over the place right now,” you answer honestly.

and ellie doesn’t know if you mean that figuratively or literally, but the lack of emotion in your voice tells her that maybe she shouldn’t pry. she can’t help it, though. because you’re her sweet and quiet roommate who’d been serious (and maybe a little scary) at first, but turned out to be a goofball with a little bit of prodding.

so seeing you like this, checked out and maybe a little stressed, ellie treads cautiously.

“so you’re gonna stay here?” she asks.

you don’t even spare her a glance.

“yeah.” your shoulders shrug. “no point in dropping so much money for a plane ticket if i’m going to be sitting home alone anyways.”

ellie makes a noise in the back of her throat and you throw look over your shoulder.

“sorry,” you offer softly, smile sheepish. “that was a little depressing.”

ellie shakes her head.

“no, i get it,” she assures you. “my family’s not really...”

you blink at her as she trails off.

“conventional? i guess?”

another quiet blankets the two of you and ellie’s speaking before she can even filter through the repercussions of her next words.

“you’re always welcome to...y’know...come with,” she says, scratching the back of her neck. “it’s not even a two hour drive.”

you hope ellie can’t tell that your cheeks are burning.

“you don’t have to, of course,” ellie blabbers. “but joel’s cool, so’s my uncle and his wife. it’d be nice, i think. and jackson’s pretty fun around this time of year...”

“i don’t wanna imp—”

ellie breathes a laugh.

“don’t,” she warns you, tips of her ears burning. “you’re more than welcome, seriously.”

it’s how you end up in the passenger seat of ellie’s old 4runner, heater on blast while sublime plays on the radio.

the car ride had consisted of ellie munching on cold fries the two of you had picked up from mcdonald’s before the interstate and you finally opening up about how your parents are divorced and how the holidays are a lot more stressful than they are pleasant.

ellie really feels for you, definitely knows the feeling losing her mom at a pretty young age and being adopted in middle school by a single, bereaved father. she tells you that they’d found each other when they needed the other the most.

and you don’t particularly know why you’re so nervous when ellie finally takes the exit off the interstate and you guys make your way through the suburbs. perhaps it’s the domesticity of meeting her family, or that you’re over a hundred miles away from familiarity, but your fingers are trembling when she turns into the neighbourhood and cozy brick homes line the frost-laden streets.

she’s pulling up and parking on the curb in front of a warm two-story that has a blue pickup truck and a gold SUV in the driveway when she notices.

“hey, hey,” she whispers, noticing the way you’re wringing your hands to stop the shaking. “you okay?”

her hands are warm when they close over yours and her thumbs is brushing over your skin soothingly.

“i’m being dumb,” you admit.

ellie’s eyes are crystal clear under the setting sun.

“don’t say that,” she says softly. “you wanna take a second?”

you swallow and shake your head.

“no, we can go,” you assure her.

she’s searching your face for any tell, but when you offer her a soft smile, she’s leaning back in her seat and nodding. before she completely pulls away, you’re stopping her.

“thanks, ellie,” you say gently. “this was really kind of you.”

she flashes you an easy smile, squeezes your hand a final time before climbing out of the car and rounding the front to help you out.

and truthfully, you realize you were nervous for nothing. because when the door swings open to reveal an older man aged with smile lines and greying hair, ellie seemingly softens infinitely.

“hey, kiddo,” he greets, crushing her in a hug so tight, she’s spluttering out a laugh.

“joel, i can’t breathe,” she wheezes.

you’re standing there awkwardly, backpack slung over your shoulder when joel finally loosens his hold on ellie and glances over her head.

“who’s this?” he asks, but the smile he wears is knowing.

“________, my roommate,” she introduces quickly, cheeks warming an awful shade of red as she begs every force above that joel won’t blow her cover.

because, okay, maybe ellie’s talked about you on the phone way more times than she’d care to admit out loud. talked about how intimidating you were at first, then graduated to talking about how you were actually so cool. and maybe she’d brought up the fact that she thought you were pretty. like...super pretty. and that maybe she was crushing a teensy bit.

“nice to meet you,” joel replies simply, sparing ellie this time around.

you let go of the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding onto, offering a smile that makes ellie wonder if she’ll survive the week with you in such a new proximity.

“nice to meet you, too,” you almost whisper, relaxing as he reaches for the backpack slung over your shoulder.

“here, let me take this for you,” he says.

and it doesn’t take you long to realize where ellie gets it from. her kind spirit and fierce yet gentle heart. joel is soft-spoken, a little rough around the edges, but a warm energy that radiates through the home he’s made for himself and ellie.

it makes infinitely more sense enter tommy and maria, her uncle and aunt who tell you the silliest stories about the starry-eyed girl in her youth over dinner. who bring out her boisterous laughter when they sing old 80’s music over dishes and evening TV.

“your family’s so cool,” you say in awe, wrapped in one of her coats she’d dug out of the closet under the stairs.

you’re nursing a mug of hot chocolate that steams in the icy air of jackson on her back porch.

ellie breathes out a little laugh.

“they’re something,” she jokes, watching you over the rim of her mug.

you make her heart thud hard in her chest as she takes you in, bundled in pieces of her that make her think that she wouldn’t mind making you hers.

“i miss times like these,” you whisper.

ellie shifts closer, catching you by surprise when her thumb swipes over the curve of your top lip.

“sorry,” she hums quietly. “you had...uh...”

you let out a hollow laugh and shake your head, tell her that it’s fine as a silence blankets the two of you.

“i’m glad you like them,” ellie admits softly. “sometimes i get a little self-conscious because, y’know, everyone expects a nuclear family and...”

“i’d take this any day,” you assure her, and the true implication of your words is latent, but something hopeful pricks her tummy.

i’d take this any day...with you.

and locking eyes with you usually scares her, usually makes her queasy with nerves because there’s always something searing in your gaze, but it’s like you see each other for the first time, no barriers.

ellie’s so close she can feel the warmth of your body coiling and drawing her in. her breath’s caught in her throat as she chances a glance at your mouth and her own lips begin to tingle.

she’s on the brink of asking if she can kiss you, but the back door is sliding open and two familiar faces are surfacing.

“williams!”

ellie’s daze melts away as she shifts to put distance between the two of you at the arrival of her friends.

“jess!” she calls. “dina!”

the moment clings heavy, but ellie writes it off. maybe she’s jumping the gun, reading too much into tender moments. it’s colored on your face, though, as she stands to meet her friends halfway, that the two of you are tethered and you feel it too.

ellie’s friends are another reflection of her character. they take you under their wings in the days leading up to the holiday with jesse teaching you to ride his minibike and dina telling you stories of their childhood while excitedly painting your nails pretty shades of autumnal colors because both jesse and ellie vehemently decline.

joel graciously relinquishes his kitchen to the four of you the day before thanksgiving. lets you guys gather around and bake an array of different desserts for tomorrow’s dinner over a few beers and winecoolers.

perhaps ellie’s a lightweight, you come to find, when she’s a lot more giggly and rosy-cheeked than she’d ever let anyone see. she’s feeling a little bubbly and you definitely don’t help the fact when you gaze upon her so fondly as you smear away the streaks of flour across her cheek.

jesse and dina are merely observers, watching with knowing grins as ellie practically melts against your touch.

and as the desserts cool on the kitchen island and the two of see jesse and dina out, ellie can’t keep her hazy eyes off of you. the two of you vote on a movie and she’s taking her usual seat in the right corner of the couch. it starts out with the two of you on opposite ends, but as the film plays, the space between you and ellie diminishes and she swears you can hear the way her heart’s pounding behind her ribcage with your ear pressed to her chest.

it’s uncharted territory considering ellie’s never been big on physical touch and she can’t even be sure that there's anything there, but you have to know. ellie’d mentioned past girlfriends, wasn’t really subtle when it came to wandering eyes on campus, hell, she’d even—

suddenly your arm’s tightening around the narrow of her waist and you’re nestling impossibly closer and christ, ellie can’t help herself when the coarse pads of her fingertips brush your jaw to catch your attention.

your gaze is illuminated by pixels and there’s a hitch in your breathing as you search her features for any hesitation. it’s long gone, you find, when ellie’s mouth is slotting yours, lips warm and tongue still flavored with sparkling wine.

ellie kisses like you’re air and she needs you to breathe. it’s almost embarrassing, way her body reacts to your proximity, how hot she us under the collar and achey as you move to straddle her. her fingertips are skimming down your spine, past the small of your back to take a—

your teeth sinking in the plump of her bottom lip and the way your soft palms find purchase against the rigid expanse of her tattooed abdomen is sobering. has her bony fingers cupping the flesh of your jaw.

“wait, wait,” she whispers, chest heaving and breaths shallow as she looks up at you.

the dust is starting to settle and you take in ellie’s kiss-bitten lips, swollen and slick. her pupils are blown wide, sweater riding up to reveal reddened flesh like you’ve branded her. you lean back.

“fuck,” you whisper. “fuck, i’m so sorry.”

ellie’s mouth is drying.

“why are you sorry?” she whispers.

you seem to chew on your words, eyes teary and expression scared.

“why are you sorry?” ellie repeats, not caring enough to mask the hitch in her voice as she pries.

“you’re always so fucking good to me, ellie,” you whimper. “you’re a great roommate and an even better friend and—”

ellie blows out a deep sigh, falls slack against the cushions as she levels you with an indiscernible look in her eye.

“don’t do that,” she breathes.

“ellie.”

“c’mon, you know me better than that,” she says, tone tinged with annoyance. “you don’t have to let me down easy. you can be honest.”

and color you confused because how couldn’t she fathom that you’ve fallen and head first at that? she’s reading it all wrong, you realize, when defeat shutters over her pretty face.

“i—”

the floorboards outside the den creak and ellie’s pushing you off just as the door squeaks open to reveal joel’s aging face.

he reads the room a moment, decides to blow by the sheen in your eyes and ellie’s rigid posture.

“tommy and maria are leaving, kiddo,” he says. “if you wanna say bye.”

ellie nods, stands and leaves you in the television-illuminated room.

you realize she won’t come back for you when the telltale sound of the front door closes and the stairs seem to groan under her weight.

it’s half past two in the morning when you slip from the den, glass of water condensating on a coaster as you try to collect yourself on the screened-in deck out back.

the icy chill stings your lungs, makes you gulp in breath after breath. the night’s starting to dawn you, the gravity of the situation overwhelming you enough to choke.

“fuck,” you whisper, that familiar feeling of dread squeezing your chest.

meanwhile, ellie can’t sleep. has been staring at the ceiling of her childhood bedroom for the past two and a half hours. you’re all she can think of. pliant curves of your body settling over hers to fit like you two were made for each other, the smell of your subtle perfume, the taste of your mouth.

and she wants to be annoyed, angry at the fact, but she’d brought you all the way here, extricated you from your comfort zone and showed you parts of her she wouldn’t dream of revealing to anyone else.

she recalls the resignation in your tone on the drive up, how you’d divulged the dysfunction of your family and the troubles you carried with you as a result. it’d be your first holiday with someone other than yourself for a while and she’d be damned if it soured because she couldn’t push her feelings aside.

the tv’s off and the blanket’s folded when she musters up enough courage to enter the den again, heart sinking to her ass when she slides back into the kitchen and finds that the sliding door to the back deck is cracked ever so slightly.

she’s seen you in a lot of ways these past eleven-odd months she’s known you, but she’s never seen you like this, hands over your heart and chest heaving like you’re trying to ground yourself.

when your watery gaze swings to her, ellie’s melting, cushion sinking as she settles next to you.

“sorry,” you whisper shakily. “i don’t—”

ellie’s shifting to face you, arms winding around your shoulders as one hand comes up to cradle the back of your head.

“let’s talk about it later,” ellie offers softly. “we can just go to bed for now and—”

“i really, really like you, ellie,” you say in one breath, and it has her body locking up, the audible catch of her inhale sounding near your ear.

“but?”

“no buts,” you admit. “just that i don’t want you to think that i kissed you because you’re being nice to me. well, i guess you’re always nice to me. it’s one of the reasons why i…”

and ellie doesn’t mean to tune you out, but you’re so fucking cute and so sweet and she shouldn’t have doubted you or herself because you’re hiccuping and shivering and—

you taste better the second time around. now ellie’s a little less unsure, still a little nervous because you’re the first girl to make her feel like this and she doesn’t want the bubble she’s built around the two of you in this corner of her little world to burst, but kissing you feels so right.

she’s dragging you back inside, past the den and up the stairs, and maybe the two of you do things you shouldn’t in her twin size bed in her childhood room when her dad’s only a few walls away, but she can’t help herself. not when you’ve always been an arm’s length away and she can finally have you.

it isn’t until the two of you lay under the dim glimmer of the glow-in-the dark stars pasted to her ceiling, her face pressed in your neck, that she says it.

“i really, really like you, too,” she whispers. “i realized i didn’t say it back.”

but it’s not like she needs to. you knew that already.

neng ©️2023

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fic #ellie williams #ellie williams au #ellie williams tlou2

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border-spam · 4 years

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Leech Lord AU short - It comes before a fall

The craggy landscape of Pandora raced by outside the tinted windows of Troy’s massive technical as the COV war machines that escorted the glossy black hulk thundered around it in a convoy, weaving between the billowing clouds of acrid dust that trailed behind the God’s chariot as they bounced and jostled along the dirt road that lead to their backwater destination.

Its deified passenger wasn’t enjoying the trip quite as much as his retinue, and was finding it difficult to deal with their raucous voices and blaring music audible over the roar of the vehicle’s engines as tires screeched over the rocky dirt road.

He rubbed at his temple, wincing quietly at each bump and grind of the car’s axles, and reminded himself why he was wasting his precious time driving to this nameless little shithole.

Pride.

(Incredible art by @lazulizard ) Troy had reluctantly added the town to his itinerary after noting how close it was to the cult-controlled Eridium plant he’d scheduled to inspect with his vanguard today, it had been an irritant under his skin for long enough, and it seemed fitting to gouge it out when he had a couple of hours to spare, regardless of how much he’d rather be in the Grand Cathedral right about now. The camp was a blip on the map he’d spent so long seeding across Pandora. An insignificant, pathetic speck of non COV land surrounded by the vast sprawl of the Twin’s territory, that had been in the back of his mind for months now. As his iron grip tightened on the region and the cult’s control had spread like a seeping cancer across the desert plains, the gaps had filled in piece by piece, all bar this dive. He’d figured it was time to scratch the itch, they were going to be nearby anyway, just a couple of extra hours drive in the padded luxury of his chauffeured technical and they’d still have time to be back in the Holy City by nightfall, so why not. Get it done. Make the cut.

He just wished his skull wasn’t splitting as the car lurched, or there was some company with him to lighten the mood, give him something to listen to bar the shrieks and throbbing music of his crusaders. The day had been tiring enough, the threats and sneering orders he’d snapped at the plant workers took more out of him than he’d ever feel comfortable admitting. The technical was air conditioned, comfortable, armored, and his driver pleasantly silent, but the migraine wouldn’t budge. He was tired, tired in his fucking bones, and he couldn’t even remember when the last time he hadn’t felt this way was.

Everything was changing, or had already changed. He wasn’t sure which, but what he did know was that this, riding passenger in a 6 million dollar custom war-machine with a bottle of champagne in the platinum holder next to him he couldn’t pronounce, driving towards a shanty town with a retinue of blood thirsty marauders who carved his name into their chests and performed rites of sacrifice in his image, this was not what he’d signed up for. This wasn’t becoming a star was it, Tyreen?

This had turned over time into something else, and he was clawing to try and keep it under control now, constantly. Scrabbling to placate the rot in his gut that whispered it was real, that he was a God, and that these people deserved what his cult did to them.

He rested his head against the blacked out glass of the window, watching the retinue belch fire and smoke from hood mounted exhausts while playfully attempting to push each other off road as they drove on, his guard’s excitement manifesting in triumphant yells and vicious warnings to “Keep your distance” - blasted from car-mounted stereo equipment that echoed out across the wastes. He wished for a moment he could still feel that level of adrenaline, that rush of carefree blood-thirst his crusader’s inebriated themselves with on runs like this. Everything was just.. grey now. Had been for a long time. He let his eyes fall closed, grounding himself. They’d arrive soon. He’d step out of this gilded cage of a car and into the spotlight. He needed to slip on the character. Place the mask. Play the part.

Time to have a nice little chat with them, an unannounced Holy visit. Find out why exactly they hadn’t accepted the COV’s gracious offer to join in all this time… give them a reason to believe.

As the town came into sight through the oily dust clouds in the distance ahead like a rusty blemish on the rocky horizon, he tensed, leaning to his side to get a straight view of it through the dark glass. A wave of disgust ran up his spine as they closed distance and the reality of its state came into focus, sharp eyes taking in the town’s condition while his retinue’s speakers turned toward it to blast an announcement of their God’s arrival.

It was tiny, filthy. Ramshackle junk housing stacked haphazardly on top of each other. Rusted cargo containers turned into homes for people with nothing else to call their own. The crudely cut windows and doors fluttered with rags and patched together clothing set out to dry in the parched desert wind, and they caught the red clouds of dust the convoy billowed into the air as the vehicles screeched to a stop in front of the shabbily constructed entrance to the village.

It made you feel grimy just being here, he thought with a scowl as he stepped down from the technical, watching with disgust as the polished metal of his boots instantly turned dull when they crunched into the red clay beneath him. The God King flipped his fur collar higher and lazily swiped his hair into place with practiced indifference as the crusaders on either side of him thundered forward into the village with weapons raised. His personal guard immediately began to establish a perimeter away from their King, herding and snapping at panicked townspeople with efficient, well trained, deadly ease. He took a moment to assess the terrified crowd of inhabitants that had collected in fearful groups. They were cowering in doorways and stumbling back over each other with hands raised in submissiveness as his vanguard roared orders to “Make way for Father Troy”, parents calling their scrawny children with frantic gestures to get inside their homes, no one giving even the slightest resistance to the demands of his retinue. These weren’t a threat.

Skinny. All of them. Malnourished, most in rags or barely clothed at all. Sickly kids stared at him from sunken eye-sockets over the jagged windows they peeked out of, this place was diseased. The few weapons he noted as he scanned across the crowd were rusted or poorly junked together out of scrap. These weren’t even bandits, bandits were more robust than this, these were just people. The forgotten of Pandora, the absolute bottom rung in the pecking order. People, trying to survive on a planet that you either sacrificed your morals to, or your life.

Something in his gut twisted in response to that. Something that he’d rather not think about as he strode into the village, his polished smile and immaculately clean outfit emphasising the wealth and power he held in stark contrast to the dust coated poverty he stalked into, he stood out like a wound here, twinkling jewelry and harsh metal spines of his cybernetics glinting in the evening sun. The commanding presence he emanated was amplified by the crusaders who flanked him on either side in their warped skull masks and dark leather armor, monochrome bar the neon splashed COV weapons and chrome spiked accessories they wore as uniform. No one kept God King Calypso waiting long, and the old woman stumbling towards him was clearly the town leader - considering the worried glances towards her from the rest of the villagers as they watched in nervous silence.

She stopped a couple of feet before him, not reacting to the weapons raised in unison by his vanguard, a tiny little woman, all pinprick brown eyes and brown craggy skin, who’s wispy white hair fluffs in the breeze like a cloud perched onto her scalp. She wasn’t remotely afraid, he could feel that straight away, but she bowed to him politely, spoke her crude little greeting respectfully through a dry old throat.

“Troy Calypso, welcome, majesty. Not sure why yer here, but what can we do for a God kind enough t’ grace us with his presence?”

He took the bait, sparkling smile spreading wider as his eyes narrowed , gesturing with a grand bow towards her to emphasise his reply:

“Oh, no, no ma'am, what can we do for you? That’s why I’m here. To get an answer to this tricky lil’ question at last.” he smarmed, standing to his full height again, golden fangs so clearly peeking out of the now wolf like grin as his eyes twinkled with mock kindness.

“The COV would love to welcome you into our family. Have wanted you to join for quite a while! I thought a… hah.. personal touch might help, came to have this polite chat with you myself, hope I wasn’t too forward.” he raised his mech fist slowly, counting off the bladed fingers theatrically as he continued.

“Food. Medicine. Safety. Guns. Protection, we offer the same benefits to all our followers, and we really do ask for so little in return - just your fealty, and that’s such a small th-”

“No thank you.” she croaked in reply, cutting him off mid sentence. The crowd behind her gasped in quiet shock at the rudeness, and the insult of her dismissal shot like a sniper round directly into the back of his brain. He reeled for a second, mouth souring out of the fake smile it had been locked into as he took a moment to scrutinise her wizened little face through a disapproving side-eye. The right panel of his maw twitched involuntarily - just quick enough for a flash of razor sharp teeth to catch the sunlight as it slid back into place.

He almost mouthed his thoughts, nearly warned her to not do this, not when there were people he had to maintain his reputation in front of, but he swallowed it down instead with an arrogant tilt of his head and flex of his lithe torso. Locked it deep in his belly and hoped she’d realise her mistake.

The old woman was expressionless, but wasn’t meeting his demanding stare. Her eyes were instead trained on the skull tattoo shifting across his chest with each controlled breath, was she aware of the knife-edge she was walking on? Did she know the danger she was really playing with? He closed the distance slowly, a subtle hand gesture commanding his guards to lower their weapons as he came close enough to her to hunch down, dropping his towering frame to bring his face closer to her eye level.

He said nothing for a moment, breathing in the smell of dust and old sweat she gave off in loud, deep huffs through his nose. She was shivering, not as stoic as he’d thought. He could see that now that he was so close to her throat.

Running his tongue over the front of his teeth, he sighed. Troy was tired. He wasn’t in the mood to play this game, even when he could see ten steps ahead and knew the direction she was making the terrible mistake of heading in. Letting the persona slip away, he lowered his voice, wanting to keep this between just them and out of range of the surrounding nearby crowd.

“Lady, help me out here... I’m confused. I’m fuckin’ insulted.” He muttered, jaw a little tighter than he wanted to acknowledge as he continued.. “Your town is too small to even tax, we ask nothing from a shanty this size. I waive tithes… ” Troy paused as he turned his mouth closer to her ear, close enough for the heat of his breath to prickle the hair on her neck, and lowered his voice further till it was barely a husky whisper.

“All the COV will ask from you is loyalty. You know I could level this shithole with a nod… right? You get that I could massacre aaalll these people with just a word? Why. Why would you deny us? These people, these kids are s-starving. These kids are sick. We- I can fix that, like this:”

He snapped his flesh fingers next to her ear, and bristled pleasurably at the wave of perverse satisfaction that rolled through his stomach when she jolted in response, her paper thin eyelids fluttering. Did she understand now, he wondered, flicking his piercing gaze to one of the skinny kids holding onto their mother’s leg nearby, and the look on their face as they stared at him, like they were realising the Big Bad Wolf wasn’t entirely make believe. Did she understand the out he was giving her, the genuine offer of charity hidden behind the God King’s sneer? That he couldn’t provide it unless she bowed and played along?

She shifted a little, her stiff old shoulders popping in complaint as she did, and finally raised those warm little brown eyes to meet his bitingly cold ice blue ones.

“I didn’t mean t’ insult his liege..” she breathed, and he waited for her to continue, waited to hear her out.

“Maybe you just got too big t’ understand. Maybe bein’ so strong can leave you soft in places you don’t know about anymore. Cuz’ starving to death? Bein’ sick?” she shrugged awkwardly, lowering her eyes to his chest again.

“We all die, but at least you’d still die free.”

That stab landed. He sucked in a jagged breath and held it, shaking. The moment of silence that followed felt like a millennia to the hundred people huddled around them, too far to hear what had been said, but close enough to see his reaction to it, see the jagged black metal spines of his vertebral implant raise and vent crackling red Siren energy in response to the berserk anger their leader’s muttered words had ignited in the King.

His fist tightened by her ear as his markings flared, and the pulse of scarlet light bathed them both in that moment, reflecting cruelly in the piercing eyes that bored into the side of her head as she refused to meet his stare.

The rage rolled off God King Calypso’s hulking frame in tangible waves... but the old woman did not waver.

He straightened slowly, maw clicking and twitching in fury as he rose. A stringy line of drool slavered from the split mandible and landed at her feet as his eyes narrowed, and Troy smiled at her, his jaw clipping together into a friendly grin so transparently hostile you could see the fangs snapping into place behind it. His eyes scanned the crowd rapidly, pausing imperceptibly on each of those scrawny kids that hid their faces from him now, terrified past their curiosity. OK. If this is the way she wanted to play..

Then he’d do the same. ”Fine”, he barked, voice clear and loud, making sure every villager would hear what he had to say, that all eyes were locked on him as he continued. “No problem ma’am. I’m not a man to push my kindness on others. Good luck with your..." he paused to crack a false laugh, shifting his eyes to the nearest family - “Your uh.. “dying free”.” He winked at them, and then his entire demeanor shifted purposefully, making a scene of dropping the playful act and warping into grim disgust as his gaze snapped back to her, still refusing to meet his eyes. He began to turn, and gestured for his retinue to follow, their boots crunching through the dirt as they stormed to his side. He made one final pause as the reached their vehicles and looked back, lifting his monstrous cybernetic arm to wave playfully at the gathered people, watching with satisfaction as a few cringed when the bladed fingers caught the dying sunlight. “By the way!” he bellowed, commanding their absolute attention again as his mouth split into a wolfish grin. “If you need any help with components for building all those little kid sized coffins, give us a call, yeah? We’ll cut you a good deal.” The looks they shared were a reassurance at least. Maybe someone would listen after all.

*******

"Fucking MOVE” he hissed at his driver as a crusader closed the car’s door after him, and they gassed it at his command, the hulking technical’s tires spinning a cloud of debris towards the town's inhabitants as they covered their eyes and coughed. He couldn’t get out of this shit-hole fast enough. Couldn’t get far enough from those *children* and the way they’d looked at him, he flicked his eyes to the rear view mirror and felt a cold chill through his burning chest as they faded into the dust behind the convoy. That stupid woman. That stubborn old bitch. She’d let them die rather than bend a fucking knee. He was disgusted, and not fully sure who with. Slamming his boot into the back of the partition in front of him and feeling the car swerve as the driver jolted, he screamed “Drop the DAMN DIVIDER, YOU MORON!!” - panting in anger as they fumbled in panic to hit the switch and activate the internal armor at his demand. He’d barely managed to keep the storm of emotion brewing inside him contained when they finally found it, and felt a wave of relief when the reinforced metal screen closed between them, giving him privacy at last. Troy hunched forward in his seat and pressed his fingers into the bridge of his nose, screwing his eyes closed and desperately trying not to sob. What the fuck had just happened back there? He wanted to cry, his heart felt like it was going to explode in his chest and he couldn’t seem to get enough air, lungs heaving as he shuddered in gasps while trying to swallow down the panic. What had happened? In 6 years of recruiting, 6 years since the COV had reached a level of power where they were no longer told no, he’d never encountered anything like that situation. He wasn’t prepared for it, he’d never had to deal with this mix of completely opposing emotions before. Standing there looking at sick kids he knew could help so easily, but knowing that under the scrutiny of his vanguard and the terrified eyes of the villagers, he couldn’t break character to do it. He ran his flesh fist into his hair and gripped hard into the dark mess, pulling sharply at his scalp as he crumbled further forward, head nearly between his knees as he trembled. Trying to give that bitch an out, trying to be clear in his cunning, emphasising what he was offering, and being denied the only route he had to help them by a weak old woman too proud and stubborn to give the nothing he asked for in return. Nothing! Some COV propaganda plastered about the town would have been more than enough, it didn’t make sense. He couldn’t understand. No one said no. No one denied them. He hissed as the first tear spilled down his cheek, then threw himself back into the seat and *screamed*, bludgeoning the massive mech arm into the steel divider. Not caring if the driver heard him choking out tears. Not caring if they told the others, not caring about anything anymore bar those kids, and how sick he’d been, and how powerless he was now even when he paraded himself as a God, how much of a lie it was. He had no control. He had to act the part, always, even when it was something he hated, when it wasn’t what he wanted. Troy snarled as the hot wet slick under the bracer and the telltale burn along his delicate scarred shoulder became noticeable, but didn’t stop, hammering the metal over, and over, as the agonising jolts buckled the arms outer plating more with each blow. His voice was starting to crack between sobs, wheezing on the intake as his weak lungs began to fail, but he had to spew this bile out now, knowing he couldn’t risk trying to carry this level of emotional turmoil into the Holy City while hoping the mask didn’t slip in front of Saints, or his sister. He was a fake. No God would be sobbing like this, having a tantrum alone in the back of a damn car.

Nothing about him was fucking real. That woman had seen it, she’d looked right through him like he was glass. Straight past the bluster and fangs, to the stammering, sick, broken, weak man he’d thought he’d hidden, and known she could say no. Known straight away that she was stronger than him. He’d thought.. he’d hidden that person.. so well. Coughing a final sob as his ruined arm shuddered on damaged pistons and slid to his side, he lifted his left to cover his face, slumping back in his seat, silent now bar for the pained hiccups that followed. God. He didn’t know what to do.. Part of him wanted to say screw it, order an airdrop of supplies off the books. Food, medicine, some guns. Anything to give them a chance out there. He was in charge of finance, no one would need to know, maybe he could manage it and keep his reputation intact... But the other part of him wanted to send the command to have the fucking shit-hole razed to the ground. How’s your freedom taste now, while slag melts the flesh off your bones you stupid old bitch. Troy coughed quietly, sinking lower into the seat as he rested his sore neck against the curve of the headrest, trying to steady his breathing as he forced himself to calm. There was no longer any sound outside, no shouting or broadcasts, just the dull roar of the convoy’s engines, like white noise in the back of your mind. The same craggy Pandoran landscape raced past as before, but pitch dark now, the only light being what streamed from the vanguard vehicle’s headlamps. Suddenly, the technical bounced over a bump in the dirt track and he winced as he jolted forward, then nervously lifted the front of his coat as he felt a trickle down his right side, sighing in embarrassed defeat as he saw the blood seeping from under the bracer seam resting against his lower ribs. Perfect, he thought, banging his head back against the headrest and closing his eyes.

Wonderful, he’d really made the right choice with that breakdown, huh. The arm was junked, his shoulder was torn to pieces, and he’d probably lost his voice. Tyreen was going to eat him alive, if she even noticed, he reminded himself with a humorless snort, too tired to even manage a sneer. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his Echo, sniffing as he bent his head to rub his eyes on his forearm, too blurry with tears and mascara to see the display clearly. He didn’t know what to do. But she would, wouldn’t she. He slowly thumbed through the 2 years of unanswered messages, all read, over and over on nights when things were bad, but none responded to. All from her. Checking in if he was ok, repeating it hadn’t been all his fault, letting him know she was still right there if he ever needed her. She’d know. He could ask. He could ping her right now, and she’d know what to say straight away. She’d point him in the right direction, dig the worry out of his chest and slap the back of his head with a few blunt words of choice like she always managed. Seifa would know.. He didn’t realise how hard he was gripping the E-Dev till a straggling tear dropped to his bone white thumb knuckle, and he blanched, snapping out of his lost thoughts as he shook his head. With one last glance at her messages, he tapped the display button and dropped the Echo to his lap, then lifted his shaky hand to wipe at his eyes, feeling the oily shift of streaked eyeliner under his fingers. He needed a fucking shower. He was so tired. ****

Had so much fun writing this and appreciate any and all feedback and comments! If you’re interested in the Leech Lord Borderlands 3 AU, check out my pinned post and the tag on my feed for all the content.

#Borderlands #borderlands 3 #bl3 #troy calypso #tyreen calypso #calypso twins #seifa #leech lord #my hcs #my writing

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deathandrenegades · 7 years

Text

Enscripted - Part 6

Summary: Soulmate AU between Dean and reader. Dean’s your new neighbor in a small town, which arises strange feels to implode from you. On top of it, there’s another face that seems to stir trouble. Could he be who he says he is?

Word Count: 1989

A/N: Sam’s a lil tipsy, Dean gets jealous.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

The night droned on, Sam staring at his drinks for most of the night, he seemed a million miles away. Every so often I'd go up to one of the few girls that came in, attempting to nudge them in his direction. Even if they walked over to him, he wouldn't bite, barely raising his head, he would wave them away.

I let out a loud “Last Call” then turn to Sam.

"So I think is safe to assume Dean left you stranded?" I smirked. Sam's eyes snapped up at me, bringing him out of a daydream.

"Yeah probably." He laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

"I'll take you there then." I offered. He smiled back approvingly.

We stepped outside, the fog rolled in around us from the shadows, I ignored the eerie feeling that washed over me. We hopped into my car and I drove slow, chewing on my lip. I glanced over at him, he stared at the houses rushing by until it was just corn fields.

"Do you wanna come in for a drink?" I asked nervously as we pulled into my driveway. He looked at me confused at what he should say. We pulled into my drive way and I sighed, biting the bullet.

He refused politely.

"What the hell are you two doing?" Dean roared outside of my window, I yelped in response. He went over to Sam’s side and ripped the car door open, yanking Sam out of the seat. I lurched out of the car as Dean threw him against the side of it.

"Dean!" I yelled, rounding the car to him.

"Nothing happened Dean, what the hell has-" I felt a huge surge of anger flow through me from my core and I put my hands on the car, unable to breathe. Dean looked at me, bewildered by my state. He turned back to Sam.

"I swear to god-" Dean started to threaten, but Sam cut him off.

"She just asked me about our fight. You left me stranded and she wasn’t going to leave your brother there." Sam answered annoyed with his quick tempered brother. Dean let go, seething with rage, exhaling deeply as he looked over me. I stood, glancing between them both.

"Well that’s enough excitement for one night." I panted and turned to head inside.

"(Y/n) wait, I'm sorry." Dean called as he bounded up my porch, grabbing my hand.

I felt his sincerity in his touch, and I knew he could feel my pain by the way he recoiled almost immediately.

"I didn’t mean to scare you...I just got...jealous." He muttered bitterly. I swallowed, nodding as I turned inside, shutting the door behind me, cutting off his anger that was flowing through me. I gasped for breath, wondering if I’ll ever get a grip on this. I pressed my back against the door, trying to pull myself together before I headed to bed.

"Dean you really need to relax...are you okay?" Sam's anxious voice poured through my cracked window. I closed my eyes, my heart still erratic.

"I'm…fine..." Dean panted, sounding more like he was convincing himself.

"What is happening to you..." Sam's voice barely above a whisper. I immediately opened my eyes, tempted to go back outside into the dark night.

"Sammy...I..."

"Dean what the fuck is that? Is that...her…name..?" Sam asked, unable to believe the sight in front of him. My hairs prickled as I itched to look outside, my brain rattling off thoughts. Whose name?

My eyes immediately snapped down to my chest, the tattoo burning dully underneath my shirt.

My name?

"Yeah, it's hers. I noticed it one morning, and ever since then I've just felt...weird..." Dean said have muttering. I held my breath, inching closer to the window eagerly awaiting the next piece of information.

"We need to figure this out." Sam stated. Their voices trailed off as they slowly walked to Dean’s house, I gasped for breath, sliding to the floor as my head spun.

I groaned as i woke up sprawled on the hardwood floors of my house. slowly opening my eyes, my stairs staring back at me. Had I really passed out and collapsed here? My brain rushed back to last night, head pounding, Was it all even real?

I peeked under my shirt, the grey smoke swirling around inside the tattoo, stinging duly. groaning louder, I covered my face with my hands.

Willing myself upstairs, I desperately needed something to clear my mind. Yawning and stretching I quickly changed into leggings and a tank top, lacing up shoes and shoving headphones into my ears. A jog is just what I need, hitting the play button. Music blasted into my ears, and I was grateful for my already racing thoughts to be drowned out. I bounced on my heels, stepping outside and closing the door behind me. The ground was crisp, my steps breaking into a light jog. I huffed my way past Deans house, making it a point to not even look mildly in his direction. I avoided taking the turn to the tracks, thoughts of the fog still sent chills down my spine. Instead I kept pushing forward, leaving thoughts of yesterday trailing behind me.

I stopped when I came to what appeared to be a very old cemetery.

Ironically enough I loved cemeteries, I thought stepping through graves.

I noticed fog seeping from the edges of the gravestones, swimming its way to me. I gasped and quickly turned away, only to let out a startled yelp at the figure in front of me.

"Kyle?" I panted, catching my breath. He grinned, his brown eyes dancing at my fright. "What the hell are you doing here?"

How weird was it that he was here at 9 am on a Monday morning, let alone in a cemetery. The fog around my ankles thickened and licked its way up to my calves.

"Uh, visiting?" His brow furrowed and I relaxed, realizing how skeptical I was being.

"Oh sorry.." I mumbled. I looked around, the fog still lingering, itching to kick it away. Kyle caught me eyeing the fog and chuckled.

"Yeah if there's one weird thing I noticed about this place it's the fog. Comes out at the most random of times it seems." He grinned thoughtfully.

"Yeah." I scoffed.

"So, wanna grab some coffee?" He asked brightly. My thoughts skipped to last night, Dean's anger flooding through me and how I felt him nearly lose control. The anger that rippled through me whenever he got jealous was unnerving. I closed my eyes and pushed the thoughts out.

"Why not” I replied, forcing a smile. Anything to get out of this fog and keep last night as far from my thoughts as possible.

"Great." He replied enthusiastically. He turned on heel and I followed him out, walking back to my house. I looked around us skeptically.

"So..did you drive here, or something..?" I stared into the road in front of me.

"Uh no I walked." He muttered.

"So you live close then?" I probed, though I hadn't been past Dean’s house much I don't remember even seeing a house that was close to the cemetery.

"Yeah kinda."

"I see." I murmured, not wanting to press him any further. Kyle hummed beside me, a certain skip in his step I couldn't place my finger on. He was unusually giddy this morning, I surveyed our surroundings, noticing Dean's house coming into view. I glanced behind us, cornfields on either side of the road with fog chasing us menacingly. I narrowed my eyes at the fog that lingered, then turned my gaze forward.

When we walked by Deans house I instinctively looked up staring in the windows, hoping to see him. He house was dark and still, sighing as I turned away, noticing Kyle scowling at his house.

"You okay?"

"Of course." His face broke into a grin as his eyes landed on mine. We hopped into my car and I drove swiftly to the nearest local cafe, the clouds clearing away from the sky.

We sat down at the table, I sipped my iced coffee as he drank a tea.

"So how has the bar been?" He asked lightly.

"It's good, I noticed you haven't been around much." I frowned at the thought. Matter of fact, ever since Dean’s been hanging around there I haven't seen his face much at all.

"Yeah, I've just had some stuff to take care of." He replied, looking out through the window.

"Oh, like what?"

His eyes turned back to me and I immediately looked down at my coffee, my tattoo felt like it was on fire. I sipped my coffee gingerly.

"Just some personal things I’ve been meaning to get in order." He answered dryly. I nodded. His eyes burned into me, and I caught myself completely caught in a trance. My tattoo protested at this, but there was something about his eyes that held me there, that I couldn’t break away from.

“Is Dean still hanging around you?” He asked, his voice cold, a dark shadow casted over his face at the thought. My heart rate picked up at the subject, I finally broke away from his stare and played with my hands.

“Well…” My voice trailed off, not even knowing where to begin with all this and how to explain it while remaining on good terms. I had a sneaking suspicion Kyle didn’t like the idea of me being with Dean. The door chimed as I attempted to come up with a response under Kyles glare.

"(Y/n)?" Dean's voice asked.

"Can I help you?" Kyle snarled. I looked up, realizing he wasn't talking to me. Dean towered over him, glaring down at him as a feeling of rage tore through me. I swallowed, trying to calm it.

"Yeah, you can start by getting up." Dean retorted.

“Oh I just thought I'd keep her warm for you.” Kyle retorted bitterly. Dean's gaze further pierced into Kyle, making my stomach twist.

“Don't let that anger get the best of you.” Kyle smirked, standing up. He took note of the anxious look on my face as I sat frozen peering at Dean who stood seething before Kyle. “You really want to be with a guy like this?” Kyle gestured to Deans rage. I swallowed, not meeting his eyes.

“Oh, a guy like-” Dean started before Kyle cut him off.

“I wasn’t talking to you, mongrel.” Kyle hissed, barely audible as his words slid from his lips.

Kyle turned on heel and stalked out of the coffee shop, Dean slowly sitting in his seat.

“What the fuck are you doing hanging around that guy?” He cursed.

“What's it to you?” I questioned, sipping my iced drink which was condinstating between my heated palms.

“Well, I'm not going out with any other girls.” He said carefully. I nodded.

“Good thing I'm not going out with him then.” I mumbled, bringing my hand forward and tracing circles on the back of his hand. My tattoo itched to be closer to him.

Dean hummed in response, gazing at my fingers trailing over his skin, still not fully satisfied with my remark.

“I don't think you should see him any more.” Dean said quietly. I sighed, nodding in agreement. There was no denying that Kyle seemed to create problems, and I couldn't shake the weird feeling I caught whenever I was around him. I knew that no longer talking to him would be best, especially if I wanted to continue seeing Dean. I chewed on my lip, debating on when or how I should tell Kyle to cool it. He seemed to just pop up at the most random of times.

“I have a feeling I might run into him soon enough.” I murmured. Dean swallowed and nodded.

“If he gives you any grief or anything just let me know.” He mumbled gruffly, not meeting my eyes.

#Dean winchester #sam winchester #spn #supernatural #fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #soulmate AU #soulmate tattoos #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #spn series #supernatural series #soulmate series

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