itchytitss

[itchytitss]

Thinking about mural artist Ellie

(Accidentally went overboard and made this way longer than my usual drabbles. oopsies)

After the most recent town council meeting, the residents of Jackson have come to the conclusion that their community isn’t as vibrant and friendly as they want. The walls around the town are seriously lacking in some colour and the walls of the newly renovated kindergarten needs some decoration.

So naturally Ellie was chosen for the job. She’s shown a few big walls for murals, and little spots for smaller accent paintings. Dumpsters, old fire hydrants, electricity poles and such.

Now, you wouldn’t say that Ellie is your friend, exactly. But she’s… something.

She shares snacks with you at movie nights. She brings back little trinkets she finds form her patrols and gifts them to you. She checks up on you and compliments your hair and outfits. You’ve even caught her sketching you as you read to the kids at the library.

Something about her lingering voice and soft eyes sets off a warmth in you that you can’t quite describe. It doesn’t help that she seems to be everywhere now when you go on errands across Jackson.

You see the way her eyes wander as she watches you pass. Her paintbrush slipping from her grip slightly as she looks down at you from her place on the ladder. You wave to her every day, taking note of her eventual progress on the murals.

You stop to talk to her some times, to check on her on the particularly hot days. You can’t help but stare as she climbs down from her ladder, her bare arms glisten in the warm sun, her tattoo covered in stray swatches of paint.

You force yourself to not look down as she stretches, her tank top riding up her stomach, showing off her toned abdomen.

“Thanks.” She mumbles wearily as she takes the bottle of cold water from you. Your eyes follow the drops of water that roll down her chin onto her neck as she chugs the water. Before she can even hand back the bottle, you’re gone. Having swiftly walked away in (not so) mild panic.

When the day comes for Ellie to show off her finished work around town, the townspeople gather around and congratulate her for a job well done. You stand at the back of the group, hoping to catch a glimpse of the small details everyone keeps raving about.

You notice Ellie watching you. Why you? In the crowd of a dozen people praising and looking at her work, she watches you. Eager to see your reaction the most.

Later that day, you come back to the paintings to get a better look, thanks to the lack of crowds. You tour all of Ellie’s work, smiling at the small monkeys playing with lab equipment on the side of the pharmacy, looking up at the giraffes in the alleyway behind the bar, and admiring the floral mandalas that travel up the street lights. But what really catches your eyes is the details on her murals.

You visit the kindergarten mural. A colourful painting with bees and butterflies. You crouch down to look at the fine details of the woman planting flowers in a garden not unlike your own. Her garden boots, bright red. Just like yours.

You smile at the whimsical and colourful mural of the children’s section in the library. A landscape of a forest home to a unicorn, fairies, gnomes and even a dragon flying in the distance overhead. In the corner where the forest meets the sea, is a mermaid, brushing her hair on the rocks. Her hair similar to yours. The necklace around her neck much like your own.

Finally, you look in awe at the town hall mural. A large zoomed out painting of all of Jackson. There by the park, you spy the fine brushstrokes of woman reading on a bench. The bench you visit quite regularly. Around her neck is a scarf identical to the one you wear almost every day.

You’d almost be creeped out if you didn’t admire her so much.

“Do you like them?” A familiar voice makes you jump in surprise.

Ellie stands there behind you, fidgeting with her fingers.

“Oh, Jesus, Ellie!” You gasp, quickly standing up in shock. “God, yes they’re all wonderful. You’re very talented.” You smile. Ellie just stands there. You can feel her awkward aura as she fidgets with her hands.

You turn back to the painting, hoping to fill the silence. “Um, the woman reading on the bench… and the gardener and the mermaid.” You list off hesitantly. “They’re… they’re all me, aren’t they?” You ask, turning your head to look at her.

Ellie’s eyes widen slightly. “I uh- I didn’t think you’d notice that fast.” She laughs.

Silence.

“Why?” You whisper, turning back to the painting. “Why me?”

You hear the crunching of gravel under Ellie’s feet as she steps closer to you.

“…I paint what inspires me.” She says, her low voice next to your ear raises goosebumps along your arms.

Your eyes widen slightly as you turn to look at her. This is the closest you’ve ever been. All of Ellie’s nerves seem to have vanished as she looks you up and down, her eyes lingering on your lips.

“Are you free tonight?” She whispers. “I don’t think I’ve got your… look down quite yet, so I could use some practice.” She gestures vaguely to the small woman in the mural.

“All you have to do is sit there and look pretty. I’ll make it worth your time. I promise.” She smiles, tilting her head in anticipation of an answer.

“Yes.” You say breathlessly. Ellie’s sly grin grows bigger and you feel yourself turning red in embarrassment. Shit, you didn’t mean to sound so eager.

“I mean, yeah. Sure.” You chuckle, hoping to ease the tension.

Ellie looks you up and down one more time before putting her hands in her pockets and stepping back. “Great. You know where I am.” She winks, turning around to walk away.

“Wait! What do I wear?” You yell out to her.

Ellie turns around, hands still in her pockets as she walks backwards. She shrugs.

“Doesn’t matter.”

[itchytitss]

Summertime Night Terrors🌙

Ellie Williams x Reader

My first Ellie fic! This is actually a repurposed fic from my old blog that was originally a resident evil Cleon one shot. But I’ve since realised this could also make a good Ellie fic, so I’ve edited it to be wlw instead hehe. It’s also worth mentioning that this was originally written a while ago, and was the first fic I’ve ever written, so despite some minor edits, it’s still not as good as some of my other fics. So I apologise that this is a little bad.

This goes without saying but I am NOT a writer. This was written for fun and purely for me. Please be nice.

Summary: You wake up in the middle of the night to find your girlfriend struggling with a particularly bad night terror

CW: PTSD, nightmares, canon typical gore/violence, suicide in dream, anxiety, panic attacks, self doubt, guilt, angst then fluff, like lots of fluff, wholesome shit

Trapped in an unfamiliar building with hallways upon hallways, Ellie runs, gun in hand.

The rain is pouring down and pooling on the floor through the cracked windows. She tries to make herself quieter, but the stomping and sloshing of her boots against the puddles and creaky floors constantly alert the infected of her presence.

Cautiously, she continues down the winding labyrinth of this rundown building. Everywhere she turns, she’s swamped by infected, covered in ripped flesh, blood and gnashing teeth. Donning multiple open wounds and a freshly sprained ankle, Ellie realises she’s running out of ammo and needs a place to rest. Fast.

She eventually limps her way to a tall staircase. Looking back behind her shoulder, she knows the door she just blocked with a cabinet isn’t going to hold long, so she makes her way towards the staircase.

Limping up the stairs, she hears loud sobbing, cries begging for mercy, screams twisting in pain and anguish. It sounds horrifyingly familiar.

You.

Without thinking, Ellie immediately picks up her pace, skipping stairs as she climbs in desperation to put a stop to whatever was causing you to make those horrific sounds. It hurts her to no end just hearing you in pain.

The staircase seems never ending. Though she could see the top of the old wooden steps, they just never seemed to stop. Seemingly trapped in an endless cycle as if she was Sisyphus on the mountain.

Ellie looks back, only to see a dark void quickly swallowing the stairs behind her, causing them to break and crumble down into the bottomless pit. The falling stairs are catching up to her and if she doesn’t hurry the fuck up, she would fall too.

“FuckfuckfuckFUCK-“

Ellie immediately starts sprinting up the stairs, putting agonising pressure on her leg that was already in seering pain. She needs to reach you. Her injuries can wait. The only thing that matters right now is you.

After what seems like years, Ellie finally reaches the top of the staircase, stumbling and catching herself on a nearby wall. Panting and gasping for air, her chest heaves violently. Her lungs burn, begging for her to stop. Though she allows herself no break.

Your screaming and cries of agony continue, but with added noises. Ripping. Squelching. Dripping. Chewing. Clicking.

“No, no no no please-“ She begs under her breath to any god that can hear her.

On unsteady feet, Ellie runs to the door from which the noises are coming from. A soft yellow light leaks from underneath the crack, illuminating the floor in front of her.

“ELLIE!!” A muffled wail from behind the door.

Locked.

“Shit-HOLD ON!!” Ellie starts kicking the door with all of her remaining energy, eventually busting the door off its hinges, sending splinters flying through the air. Now no longer behind a barrier, the sickening noises and screams suddenly become louder. Ellie stumbles in the room, bile rising in her throat as she takes in the sight before her.

You’re pinned to the floor underneath two clickers, both ripping and gnawing at the flesh on your thigh and stomach. The tearing of skin and muscle, the clashing of teeth, the godawful coppery iron smell of your blood flooding Ellie’s senses all at once.

There’s so much blood. Can a person even have that much blood? Waterfalls of crimson spill from everywhere around you. Thick, dark blood pooling onto the hardwood floor and leaking into the cracks of the planks. Ellie freezes, unable to move- fuck why can’t she move?

Busy ripping flesh from bone and sucking on sinew, the infected don’t even notice her sudden entrance, too preoccupied with clawing and biting at your helpless, sobbing body on the floor.

Your clothes are tattered, your once neat hair now tangled and wet from the blood pooling around you. Your face covered in blood and dirt, save for the streams of tears rushing down your cheeks.

You’re being ripped apart, drowning on your own blood. You cough, spilling hot thick crimson all over your chin and chest.

“…Ell- Ellie.” You stare at her with unfocused eyes, desperately clinging on to what life is left.

Gurgling through the blood bubbling up your throat, you reach for your gun next to you on the floor, your hand shaking.

“Nonono, no!” Ellie screams your name. She can’t move. Why can’t she fucking move?!

Without looking away, your hand brings the revolver up to your temple. Clenching your eyes shut, you let out one last short whimper before you pull the trigger.

“NO!!”

—

It was right in the middle of summer and like most nights recently, it’s been unbearably hot. The AC is broken and to you and your girlfriend’s displeasure, Jackson’s repair man is coming the day after tomorrow.

Because of the sweltering heat, the sheets are off the bed, leaving your almost naked bodies sprawled out on the double mattress. Ellie in her sports bra and boxers and yourself in an old tank top and thin underwear. Your clothes stick uncomfortably to your skin.

In her feeble attempt to fight the heat, Ellie had dragged in old fan to sit at the end of the bed. It shakes and whirs air towards the bed, though isn’t even close to cooling you in the slightest.

You had also propped open the windows and the balcony door, which allowed some drafts of fresh air to flow into the stuffy room. The somewhat peaceful sound of crickets can be heard chirping in the still trees outside.

It’s 2:25 am when you wake up to the bed slightly shaking, hearing soft whimpering coming from beside you. Looking over, you see your girlfriend, Ellie, curled in a ball with her hands clutching her head, shaking and mumbling words you can’t understand.

Her white-knuckled hands grip her scalp, her hair slightly damp with sweat and messy from a restless sleep. You sit up, rubbing your eyes and turning on the lamp on your side of the bed.

“Ellie?” You whisper. No answer. You scoot closer. In the dim light, you can see the muscles in her jaw clenching, her eyebrows pinching together, her face twitching in fear. Or perhaps anger? Her entire body is shaking, breaths coming in quick, sweat dripping down her brow and back.

You sit there for a moment, hand hovering over her shoulder, debating on whether or not to wake her up. You don’t want to scare her awake, but the way she twitches and whimpers… It’s worse than usual.

Ellie has had her fair share of nightmares, but you’ve never seen her in this bad of a state before. You hate watching this. Whatever is going through your girlfriend’s mind is worse than usual, and you don’t want her to stay in this dream by herself any longer.

“Ellie, babe.” You whisper again, lightly nudging her shoulder.

“NO!!” Ellie jolts herself awake with a desperate scream, voice cracking, startling you as well.

Within a millisecond, she quickly grabs her switchblade from the bedside table and holds it out in front of her. Her eyes frantically scanning around the room for a threat.

“Heyheyhey, Ellie it’s okay!” You quickly grab her wrist and try to settle the shaking hand gripping the knife.

You know you’re not in danger. She would often wake up from a nightmare with the knife in her hands. A fight response powered by muscle memory. Determined to protect not only herself, but most importantly, you.

She’s shaking, beads of cold sweat falling down her brow, her chest and back. Her eyes are unfocused and searching for something, anything.

“Ellie, look at me, it’s just me. I’m here. You’re okay.” You whisper, attempting to gain her attention. Her wide blue eyes try so desperately hard to focus on the whatever is in front of her.

She’s panting, gasping for air like she had just been pulled from water. Her chest heaves violently with each inhale.

“Look at me, come back to me, babe.” You whisper softly, your free hand moving slowly and cautiously to cup her jaw, thumb rubbing back and forth on her cheek. “It was just a dream. You’re okay.” You repeat.

Ellie’s eyes slowly focus back on you. Her senses recognising the soft touch of your hand on her shivering body. The sudden realisation that it was all a dream comes as an exhausting wave of relief.

Tears swell up in her eyes as her lip begins to quiver. Just as quickly as the panting had stopped, it starts back up again with a small pained cry.

You shush her gently as you watch the thin sheen of sweat quickly being flushed away by fat tears rolling down her cheeks. Your thumb still smoothing over her cheek, catching streams of warm tears as they fall.

Her grip on the knife loosens as she lets it fall to the floor with a clatter.

“There we go, that’s it.” You coo, moving your other hand to cup her cheek on the other side of her face.

“Look at me, breathe with me, honey,” You start taking deep breaths, encouraging the hyperventilating woman in front of you to join you. “In…and out, that’s it, keep going.”

Ellie takes long shaking breaths, staring into your eyes, her hands now holding a vice grip on your arms.

“Y-you… I- I c-could-n’t-“

“Shhhh. I know, I know. Just breathe, baby, focus on me.” You whisper, as if you were a handler trying desperately to calm a spooked animal.

Her vision is blurry, this time from tears while she hiccups desperate breaths of air. You slowly bring your hand down to her’s, guiding it to your chest, allowing her to feel the steady beating of your heart. She lets out a few shaky breaths, more tears falling to the bedsheets.

“We’re in Jackson, baby. We’re in our house, in our room. You’re safe, Ellie.” You whisper. “You’re safe. I’m safe. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

Ellie chokes out a broken sob at your reassuring smile. Her hand clenches, balling the thin fabric of your tank top into her fist.

Uncaring of the heat, she quickly wraps her tattooed arm around your waist, scooping you into her lap with a grunt, her face pressed into your neck, now wet with tears. The feeling of you in her arms, the smell of your body wash, your warm skin, your beating heart, it was all real. You’re really here.

You sit together for what seems like ages, Ellie clinging to you and slightly rocking in comfort while you tuck her head beneath your chin, carding you hand through her hair, soothing her with small hums and whispers.

“It’s all over, you’re okay. Shhh there we go.” You draw mindless soothing shapes on her back, tacky with a thin layer of sweat. She sobs quietly into your chest, hiccuping while she grasps at the thin fabric on your back. She listens to your heartbeat, holding you tightly as if you would disappear at any moment.

Logically, Ellie knows she’s safe. She knows that you’re alive, here in her arms. She knows you’re okay. But that doesn’t stop the deep feeling of dread her nightmares bring. It doesn’t stop the memories, the flashbacks and the night terrors. Those awful fucking dreams that happen multiple times a week. Stupid dreams that keep her up at night. It all feels too real. Of course she knows it’s not, but that’s what makes this all so frustrating.

This isn’t the first time she’s woken you up from one of her nightmares. And the guilt she feels from it is immeasurable.

She sobs into your chest, hiding her face in shame from you. You, who loves and understands her deeply. You’re patient and strong. You’re willing to put your needs on hold for the one you love. You’ve never judged Ellie for a second. Not once have you blamed her, or thought that she’s overreacting. Ellie knows this deep down too. She just can’t accept the fact that someone cares.

The rational part of her brain tells her that this is normal and she’s not being a burden. It tells her that it’s okay to cry. It’s okay to take time to heal. But the rest of her doesn’t listen. The rest of her tells her that she’s a failure. That she’s better than this. She should’ve died from the bite like all the others.

After Ellie’s crying eventually slows and her breathing becomes steady, you cup her cheek again and gently move her to look at you, her chin resting on your chest.

“How about a shower, huh?” You ask. Her half lidded eyes red and irritated from the tears that are now drying on her cheeks and your neck and chest.

“Y-yeah… okay.” She hesitantly agrees. You shift out of bed. Now standing to both your natural heights, you cup her cheeks once more.

“Alright, you go take a nice, cool shower- as long as you need. I’ll be right out here. I’m not going anywhere. Okay?” She nods. You smile at her and smooth your hands slowly down her arms to entangle your fingers with hers. Your touch a gentle, calming caress, grounding Ellie in reality.

You look back over your shoulder to the bed. Suddenly noticing the damp spots on the front of your shirt, you think for a moment, watching the rickety old fan rotate slowly.

“Hmm, I’m already up,” You mumble to yourself. “I’ll put some new bedsheets on and change.” You announce to your girlfriend, letting go and turning to exit the room.

“You go take that showe-“ your movements are quickly stopped when Ellie grasps a hand around your wrist.

“Please don’t go…” She whispers. Ellie straightens her shoulders and clears her throat. “I uh- we should both take a shower. There’s no use in changing the sheets if we’re not both clean.” Her real plea goes without saying.

I need you with me.

You know it. Ellie knows you know it too, but she can’t help but try to hide any feelings of vulnerability. She drops her head and clenches her eyes shut at how pathetic and childish she sounds, clinging on to you when you would just be in the hallway for a moment.

“Alright,” You smile. “I’ll join you, but we need new sheets first.” You repeat softly, standing on your toes to kiss her forehead. Ellie lets go of your wrist, turning to slump against the wall to watch and wait for her girlfriend, like a lovesick puppy.

You walk to the linen closet in the hallway, taking out some fresh sheets and a small bottle of lavender oil. You go through the motions of changing the bedsheets, all under Ellie’s watchful eyes. When you stand back to admire your work, you grab the bottle of lavender oil and put two drops on Ellie’s pillow. You haven’t used it in a few months, so luckily there was enough left for Ellie.

Later in the shower, you stand behind your girlfriend, peppering kisses across her back and massaging shampoo into her scalp. Gently scrubbing away her worries as she leans her forehead on the cool tile wall, breathing deep and slow, trying not to fall asleep under your gentle touch. She lets you move her around and shape her like putty under your hands.

Your soft, gentle hands caress her and work out the knots in her tense shoulders. You chuckle at the occasional quiet groan or whisper of a swear under her breath whenever you hit a particularly sore spot.

You won’t let her move a muscle, you’re doing everything for her and you like it this way. You absolutely love taking care of the ones you love. In your eyes, it’s as rewarding as being looked after yourself. So often Ellie would spoil you, treat you and take care of you in more ways than you could imagine. But right now it’s your turn to shower her with love and affection.

When you finish your shower, you stand in the bathroom while slowly drying Ellie with a towel, pressing light kisses all over her dripping body, paying extra attention to her various scars.

“I’m so sorry.” She whispers, breaking the silence between you two. You look up, your girlfriend near falling asleep under the dim light of the bathroom.

“What for?”

“For… for waking you up. For being a shitty girlfriend. I let all the shit get to my head.” She gestures vaguely to her head. Her eyes, red and stinging from the strain of crying start to water up again.

“I’m supposed to be there for you. You’ve got your own nightmares, your own… trauma. And here I am being selfish and… fucking pathetic.” Her voice cracking as she avoids your gentle gaze.

“Hey, look at me, babe.” You whisper, cupping your hand on her cheek, your other hand resting on her shoulder.

“First of all, I’m glad you woke me up. I don’t want you to go through any of that alone. I’ll never be mad at you for waking me up when you’ve had a nightmare, okay?” You smile. “Don’t worry about me, okay? Sure, I’ve got my own issues, but that doesn’t negate yours. You need help too, as much as you like to deny it and act tough.” You tease, poking at her chest. Ellie lets out a genuine chuckle.

“You’re not weak, Ellie. You’re the strongest person I know. Seriously.” You start drawing small soothing circles on her bare chest, watching the way the stray water droplets fall down her neck onto her collarbone.

“We’ll get through this together, okay? We’ll sort it out.” You continue. “You don’t need to act tough around me. We’ve got each other, yeah?” You look up at her and smile. All your love for her displayed on your gentle expression.

“God, I love you so much.” She exhales in one quick breath, wrapping her arm around your waist to pull your into a slow, lazy kiss.

“I love you too.” You giggle. For the first time that night, you watch Ellie smile. Her teeth poking through the small sliver of a grin as she chuckles with you. God, you’re so happy to see hear her laugh, she barely does nowadays. The warm and velvety sound like music to your ears.

After you change into fresh clothes, Ellie lays on her back in bed, savouring the feeling of her clean skin against the cold, fresh bedsheets you had laid out. She inhales, deep and slow.

“Lavender…” She mumbles.

“Yeah, I used to use it when I can’t sleep. It helps the brain relax. At least, that’s what my mom always told me.”

“It’s nice. It… smells like you.” She sits up on her forearms and watches as you unplug and move the rickety floor fan.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m moving this to your side,” You explain as you plug the fan back in. “People get night terrors when they’re too hot.”

“But, your side- It’ll barely reach you from over here.” Ellie argues.

“I’ll live.” You assure her with a smile. She can’t deny that the feeling of the fan directly facing her now was heavenly. The air rustling her damp hair and cooling her body. She flops back onto the bed, relishing in the fresh air now concentrated on her side of the bed.

Once you had gotten two fresh glasses of cold water, you slowly climb into bed, leaning over Ellie and tucking her damp hair out of her face. “I love you.” You whisper, kissing her on her forehead.

Ellie reaches up and pulls you back down by the nape of your neck, kissing your soft lips. You rest your forehead on hers.

“I love you so, so much.” She mumbles. “Thank you…”

“Wake me up if there’s any other nightmares?” You ask. Ellie nods sheepishly.

With another peck to her lips, you roll over, giving her room to not overcrowd her body with extra heat. Without the fan facing the middle of the bed, you barely get any cool air, but you don’t mind, so long as Ellie gets it all and sleeps comfortably.

“I love you. Goodnight, baby.”

“G’night.”

The rest of the night is filled with soft, steady breathing and the white noise of wind and the crickets chirping outside. Ellie sleeps comfortably the rest of the night, and you catch drafts of fresh air from the open window.

—

Again, not proud of this but I wanted to post it anyway :)

[itchytitss]

Relaxing with Vi

Imagine lounging with Vi as the sun sets. The warm streaks of light cascade over your skin through the curtains as she strokes your hair.

You lay on top of your girlfriend, who lounges on the couch with one arm casually folded under her head. Her legs are spread, leaving enough room for you to lay between them. You sigh deeply as she runs her gentle fingers through your hair, stroking your cheek in soothing motions as you nuzzle your face into her chest.

You can hear the beat of her heart. The rise and fall of her chest. You soak up her warmth like a cat in the sun as you hold her close.

"My sweet girl." Vi whispers, watching your eyes close as you drift off into a quiet, fuzzy sleep. Your limbs feel like jelly, and your head feels heavy as she moves her other hand to slowly draw mindless shapes on your back.

You feel safe, warm, loved. You feel complete, filled to the brim with satisfaction as you lay with Vi, savouring the lazy afternoon you have together.

[itchytitss]

Imagine how protective Pit Fighter Vi would be

Just imagine dating Vi, your pit fighter girlfriend who’s made a name for herself in the fighting scene. She’s admired by hundreds of people in Zaun for her ruthless matches and charismatic personality. Everyone knows who she is, and everyone’s eyes are always on her.

Of course you go to every match of hers. Of course you help her with training. You love seeing her at work. Watching the pure power and energy flash in her eyes during a fight always gives you butterflies in a strange way. You find yourself crushing on this woman all over again. You get front row seats, VIP access to the locker and green rooms.

You and Vi know how dangerous the Lanes are, especially in the fighting scene. Creeps and addicts lurk around watching the matches, hedging their bets on fights,, picking pockets, partying and drinking.

Because of this, you and Vi are inseparable. She won’t let you go anywhere alone at these venues. Not with so many strangers around. You follow her around from match to match, sticking with her and remaining at her side as she signs autographs.

Vi always has to have some form of physical contact with you at all times. She rests her hand on the nape of your neck when talking to staff. She tugs you close with an arm around your waist while shuffling through the crowds of spectators. She slings her arm around your shoulders, pulling you to her side as she walks you both home. Under a table, she’s always got a hand resting on your thigh or a foot nudged against yours.

It’s her way of telling you, “I’m here— I’ve got you— You’re safe.”

You love your scary guard dog. Though it’s quite funny seeing as how she’s the famous one yet you’re the one needing a bodyguard. Everyone at the arenas and clubs knows not to mess with you. They know you’re taken. Taken by the Vi. Every now and then some clueless asshole either doesn’t get the memo, or ignores it completely.

Last time a guy touched you at a bar without asking, he left with a broken nose and a cut lip. When people ask you to dance with them, you smile and politely let them down as Vi wraps an arm around you, staking her claim.

It’s not that she’s controlling you. Not in the slightest. She’s just protecting you from the unpredictable fans she’s had to deal with for so long. She knows that what they say and do (especially to pretty things like you) can be overwhelming, scary and confusing. So she keeps you close. If you really want to do things alone, she’ll let you, but keep a close eye on your surroundings.

—

Just imagine having drinks with Vi and her management after a successful fight. The music is loud and the lights of the club are flashing. You’re getting quite tired but offer to bring the last round of drinks to the table from the bar.

As you’re walking back with a handful of drinks, you can feel the hungry stares of many eyes watching you. You arrive at your table with the drinks, and set them down. The clinking of the glasses drowned out by the bass of the music. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a man stand up from his table and take a step towards you. Before he can take another step, Vi pulls you into her lap. You wiggle to get yourself comfortable, nestling your face into the crook of her neck, giggling at how she rests her hand on your ass. All the while Vi stares down the poor man across the room who was planning on making a move.

Who he thought was just a cute club waitress was actually the Vi’s girl.

He clears his throat and sits back down. Vi smirks in triumph as his table laughs at him. She glares at him. A glare that says,

“She’s mine.”

—

Thinking of that one lap sitting gif from Wilde (1997) but wlw🥰👩‍❤️‍💋‍��🌈

[itchytitss]

Jill Valentine who loves calling you her wife

Disclaimer: is based on RE3 Jill, meaning the estimated year is around the late 90s to early 2000s where gay marriage was yet to be legalised countrywide in the US

In all ways except governable, Jill Valentine is your wife.

Every morning you wake up in the same bed. You shower together. You cook each other breakfast and dinner. You steal each other’s clothes. You even make love like a married couple. Soft, intimate and loving.

You lay in her arms, listening to her steady heartbeat as she strokes your hair. “I’m going to marry you someday.” She says softly. “Some time in the future, I know it… Someday they’ll allow it.” She sighs. “The world is changing, I can feel it.”

She’s sick of hiding your relationship. She’s sick of hiding who she loves. The world expects you to find a husband and bring children into this world. It expects you to stay at home, cook, clean and do everything for your husband.

“The world is shit”, your girlfriend wife says. “The world needs to wake up.”

She may lose her job, she may ruin her relationship with friends and family. But she would risk the entire world just to live a normal life with you. Nothing else matters but you.

Jill is so sick of people assuming her “partner” is a man. Or when people interpret her “girlfriend” as a friend that is a girl.

You may not be able to legally marry yet, but that doesn’t stop Jill from calling you her wife. It confuses people, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Jill’s assigned extra work at the office? “Sorry, no can do. I gotta get home on time tonight. My wife is making roast.”

At a restaurant? “I’ve reserved a table under Valentine. No, our husbands won’t be coming. It’s just my wife and I tonight.” She squeezes her arm around your waist, smiling at the slightly shocked waiter.

A man flirting with her at the bar? “Yes this shirt does look nice! It’s one of my wife’s favourites.” She says loudly.

This little habit of hers, (if you could call it that) amuses you immensely. The amount of times it’s stunned or confused people never fails to make you laugh at the way they question the legality of your “marriage.”

Jill stands in the kitchen, tending to curry on the stove as she gushes about how she finally has the weekend off, and how she can spend it with her “pretty little wife.”

“If I’m your wife, where’s my ring?” You tease, holding up your left hand and showing off your bare ring finger.

“I’m saving that for when we can get married, darling.” She whispers, taking your hand and bringing it to her lips as she places a gentle kiss to your ring finger.

What you don’t know is that far in the back of her side of the closet, lies a little box, nestled amongst dusty old clothes. In that box, is the perfect diamond ring. Waiting for the day it can finally see the light. Jill bought this a few months ago, and is keeping it for when the right day comes.

[itchytitss]

I have an idea for a series with Jill Valentine

TW: nondescript references to domestic abuse and manipulation (not from Jill obv)

Recently I had an idea for a series where reader gets a job at RPD as a secretary or intern, with no real policing knowledge. You work as an assistant to Chief Irons or fetching things for your colleagues around the station. Something simple like that.

You file, print and fax documents all day long. You’re also tasked to go on a coffee run and get your colleagues some drinks and snacks. On a good day you can get something for yourself with the extra money. Sometimes you get to spend time with your coworker Jill, who seems to have quickly taken a liking to you.

Every afternoon you go home to your small apartment with your shitty boyfriend. You’ve tried to leave him multiple times and failed due to his abusive and manipulative nature. He’s a cheating loser who treats you like a toy, an object, something less than human.

You go to work the next day with a sore back from sleeping on the couch. Jill has recently taken notice of your declining mood, the bruises on your arms and the way you’re so hesitant to talk about your home life. She spends time with you more, goes out of her way to walk past your desk every day. She checks on you mentally, even when no one else at work does.

Eventually you and Jill have developed a routine of getting coffee together almost every day. You tell her about your dreams, your fears and the shitty man back at home who leaves you unsatisfied in more ways than one. Jill listens to you talk. It’s been so long since you’ve had a friend who cares and checks up on you so frequently.

Your boyfriend doesn’t like your new relationship with your friend Jill for many reasons. After a loud and lengthy fight, you’re told to pack your things and leave the next morning.

The next day you run to Jill in tears, asking for advice as you cry in her arms, your sobs echoing in the empty break room. Without a moment of hesitation, Jill squeezes you tight and whispers, “How about you stay with me? I’ve got room. I’ll take care of you, sweet girl.”

And that’s how you came to live with your best friend. You moved in that night and ever since then, your relationship has deepened. You find yourself cuddling up to her more, leaning into her while watching movies. She helps you set up your room. She buys you things when you show even the slightest hint of interest. Gifts you little trinkets she finds wherever she goes. “Just reminded me of you is all.” She always says.

Jill shares her clothes with you, and in turn you share yours. She plays with your hair, strokes your hands and face. She’s complimenting you more. Flirting perhaps? No, she’s not flirting. You’re just friends.

But then again, friends don’t dream about making out on the couch, imagining her hands groping your chest under her your shirt. Friends don’t mumble each other’s name in their sleep and then wake up to a soaked mess in their underwear. Friends don’t touch themselves to the thought of each other. Friends don’t share a bed and sleep tangled up half naked for warmth because “it’s cold.”

Friends don’t do that, right? Fuck.

[itchytitss]

Jill Valentine helping you out with your lipstick

You’ve been invited as Jill’s plus one to a RPD awards night, which means you finally get to bust out the fancy dress and makeup you’ve been saving for a special occasion.

You’ve never seen Jill all dressed up for an event like this before. She’s stunning. Her short brown hair framing her beautiful face as she stands in front of her full length mirror, adjusting her earrings. A week ago, you helped her pick out this fancy royal blue pantsuit specifically for tonight, and god does she look amazing in it. Her height and slim figure accentuated by the long pant legs and her velvet heels.

You stalk up to her, openly admiring her as she smirks at you in the mirror.

“Hey baby,” Jill coos softly as she turns around slowly, her hands now resting on your hips.

“Shit, you look good.” She whispers as she looks you up and down, checking you out from head to toe. “It’s gonna be hard to keep my hands off you tonight.” She teases, squeezing your hips.

You giggle as you loop your arms around her neck, stepping closer into her embrace as you gaze up into her eyes. “I should say the same. I’ve never seen you so…so-”

“Hot?” She raises an eyebrow in amusement.

“That’s one word for it.” You laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears.

For a split second you see her eyebrows crease as she stares at your lips. She pulls away slightly to look, her eyes squinting slightly.

“Wha-“

“Hold on, babe you’ve got something…” Jill trails off as she grabs your chin with one hand and brings the other up to your lips.

You stare wide eyed up at your girlfriend as she pushes her finger into your mouth. With a surprised squeak, you instinctively wrap your lips around her. Your eyelids flutter and your knees feel weak as you melt into her touch. It only lasts a few seconds before she gently wipes your two front teeth and pulls her finger out with a *pop*. A small string of saliva connecting it to your lips. You stare at her in awe and disbelief as she smiles and looks at her finger.

“Had a bit of lipstick on your teeth, see?” She grins, showing you the excess lipstick she wiped off your lips, now forming a ring around the base of her finger.

You stare wide eyed and speechless as Jill laughs at how quickly your cheeks turn pink. Your mouth hangs open slightly in shock as you blink at her.

“You liked that?” She chuckles, almost mockingly as she pouts her lips slightly with a tilt of her head.

“I- uh…” You barely manage to stammer out, now looking down to the floor in embarrassment.

“Aw, my sweet girl, don’t be embarrassed.” She coos with a smile, gently stroking your flushed cheek with the delicate touch of her palm.

“You like having my fingers in your pretty little mouth? I’ll keep that in mind for later.” Jill whispers, gently patting your cheek twice before she turns around to pick up her clutch purse and heads towards the door.

You’re frozen. Stuck in place with a red face and an uncomfortably warm feeling between your legs as you stare at the wall, trying your best to comprehend this newfound fascination of what just happened.

“Come on, we’re going to be late!” Jill announces to you from down the hall, interrupting your thoughts that spiral into more sinful imaginations.

“W-wait!” You call out, quickly dragging yourself out of your sudden daydream.

You grab your purse and run down the hallway the best you can in your heels, following your gorgeous girlfriend like a lovesick puppy.

——

(Why use a piece of paper to remove excess lipstick when you can just use a pretty woman’s finger?🥰💅)

[itchytitss]

Jill Valentine has an undercut because she told me and I said so

I hc that Jill has pretty thick hair, so when she was first in the police academy, she shaved part of it to make it easier on herself to tie it up and manage

I imagine she would get a fellow rookie to shave it for her after she quickly realised she can’t do it properly herself.

After graduating the academy, Jill searched and searched until she finally found a willing stylist months after almost every hairdresser said they didn’t want to shave away her “beautiful, feminine, thick and healthy hair.” So she ended up having to settle for going to some far away salon every few weeks to spend a ridiculous amount of money on a simple shave she could probably learn to do herself.

That is until you started dating.

The first time you offered to shave her hair for her, she immediately said yes. Finally! Someone who not only doesn’t judge her choice to shave her hair, but will do it for her for free!

You started off doing a regular boring shave for her but after months of convincing, she finally let you start experimenting with different shapes and patterns. Pretty soon you were trying all types of shaves from random fashion magazines or even sketching out patterns in a book to learn.

Sometimes when she’s at her desk working, you sneak up behind her and nuzzle your face into her neck, breathing in the smell of her shampoo. She groans with a smile, mildly annoyed by the interruption and somewhat amused by your constant begs and need for her attention. You cling onto her neck, planting kisses to her nape and shoulders as she giggles and attempts to shake you off.

You snake your hand up to the nape of Jill’s neck every time you cuddle, just playing with the short hairs there, making her softly chuckle at your apparent fascination with the sensation.

You run your fingers through Jill’s cropped hair as she’s eating you out. You pant as you tug on the longer hair on top and scratch your nails through the shaved portion on her neck. You stare breathlessly at her between your plush thighs as her eyes roll back in pleasure. You feel her groan rattle straight through your core as you gently but firmly tug and pull at the soft hair on her head.

Oh my lord😩😵‍💫

Disclaimer: I do not own these photos! I found these on Pinterest for reference! Credit goes to the original poster and the awesome people with this haircut! I made sure not to use faces, but please let me know if you’d like this removed. Sources are below :)

Photo 1

Photo 2

Photo 3

[itchytitss]

Wine tasting with Shadowheart

Early on in your relationship, Shadowheart had expressed her interest in going to a wine tasting with you, though you quickly found out about the lack of wineries near Baldur’s Gate.

Sure, you would often find half empty bottles of drinkable wine along the road in your adventures, but the only good wine worthy of drinking is found in very few expensive bars and the occasional brothel. If you were lucky, you could snag a bottle from the docks after a recent import, though they’re often kept under wraps to be sent to the nobles or churches.

You and Shadowheart have been collecting a variety of good wines you have found (stolen) around Baldur’s Gate most prestigious bars and have been hiding them in your camp for ages now, separating them from the average wines kept in the group cache. You wait for the perfect night to host your own private wine tasting.

When the night comes around, you and Shadowheart slip off into the woods after dinner. You lead her to a rocky cliff that overlooks the nearby beach. A perfect picturesque view of the sun starting to set beyond the horizon.

You lay down the picnic blanket and pillows as you carefully place down the bottles of wine and water. Shadowheart makes herself comfortable on the blanket as she looks over the cliff, sighing in content as she watches the sunset. You place down some cheese and biscuits because you can’t have a wine tasting without some proper snacks. Though you mostly ignore them and go straight for the wine.

You spend the night drinking, laughing and talking about everything you can think of. Your favourite topic is the one that is your travelling companions. As you get more tipsy, you gossip and bitch about your friends who are only just a few hundred meters away. You groan about how loudly Karlach snores. You chuckle at how Scratch stole one of Gales books and made him chase him for it. You express your shared hatred for the blood left lying around camp by Astarion after his meals.

Hours later, you laugh together as you sip on an abundance of wine under the silver light of the moon. At this point you’re both laying on your sides. Facing each other.

“I think… I think I’m drunk.” Shadowheart giggles as she reaches towards you, accidentally knocking over an empty bottle of wine.

You grab her hand in yours, giggling at her flushed face and tired eyes. “I told you we were only supposed to taste the wine. Not… Not drink ourselves to death.” You hiccup.

“Where’ss the fun in that?” She slurs. “What, we just waste all this wine and… and spit it off the cliff?” She waves her hand around drunkenly.

“Shit, we’re going to be sooo hungover tomorrow.” You giggle. “Tomorrow? Today? I don’t even know what time it is.” You mumble, causing Shadowheart to giggle along with you.

“Oh gods, Lae’zel is going to be so pissed when she finds out we stole… stole her biscuits.” Shadowheart laughs loudly, causing her to snort through her nose. You both chortle at the sound, quickly shushing each other when you realise how much noise you’re making. You place a finger on Shadowheart’s lips, silencing her with a shushing gesture on your own as you both fight to hold back your laughs.

Your giggles die down as she takes your hand again, holding it in the space between the two of you on the blanket. You stare into her eyes. Her gorgeous, tired green eyes that slow blink at you with love and affection. Her smile tugs at your heartstrings and it’s as if you can feel your teeth rotting from the sweetness of it all. You scan her face as you slowly tuck a strand of hair behind her pointed ear.

“I can’t believe you’re mine.” She whispers, shuffling closer to you. You press your foreheads together as she hums softly in satisfaction.

“It’s surreal.” You mumble, rubbing over the scar on her cheek with your thumb. “You’re so beautiful…” You breathe, entranced by her soothing aura.

“I know.” She smirks.

Your thumb traces over her soft lips before you lean in to lock your lips with hers. Your hand moves to cradle the back of her head as she smiles into the kiss, squeezing your hand. You kiss slowly, softly, tasting the mixture of wines on her tongue.

After a few lazy kisses. She moves to place small pecks up your nose to your forehead. You giggle as she slides her free hand up to cup your face.

“Can we stay a bit longer? I don’t… I don’t want to go back to camp yet.” She whispers.

“Aren’t you cold?” You ask.

“Mm, a little. I’ve got you to warm me up though, don’t I?” She shuffles herself into your arms, tangling her legs with yours and burying her face into your neck.

“That you do.” You mumble, wrapping your arms around her as you pull the edge of the blanket over yourselves and close your eyes.

[itchytitss]

Thinking about taking care of scars and kissing with Shadowheart

It kills you to see Shadowheart struggling with the pain on her hand almost every day, waking up at night wincing, tossing and turning and sometimes and crying softly due to the pain and the constant reminders of her stressful past that it brings.

When the scar on her hand aches, you take her hand in yours and gently trace over the aching wound with your fingers. Softly and slowly rubbing soothing sensations into her traumatised skin. You know you can’t take the pain away from her, but gods do you try your absolute hardest to make her feel better and to let her know that you’re there.

You try to distract her with kisses. Because who doesn’t like kisses?

You take her scarred hand in yours and slowly bring it to your lips, your eyes locked with hers as you bend down to press a delicate kiss to the scar. She giggles at the soft and loyal gesture. Sometimes you close your eyes and let your lips linger there for as long as she’d allow, pressing final kisses up her arm as she tries to shoo you away with a chuckle and a roll of her eyes.

It took her longer than she’d like to admit to realise that when you would kiss her cheek, you were actually just kissing over her facial scar. Of course you can’t just neglect the rest of her face after that, so you pin her down while pecking sweet kisses all over her face. She can feel your smile against her skin as you loudly smack kisses all over her face with exaggerated mwahs! Only stopping once she’s a giggling, squirming mess under you.

In return, I imagine she’d treat your scars just like she treats the rest of your body. Sacred. A gorgeous, warm and soft gift to adore. You never thought about the hidden beauty of your scars until you met Shadowheart. You marvel at how easily she fell in love with your body, worshiping every inch like it’s second nature to her.

Shadowheart traces her dainty but strong fingers over your marks, leaving a trail of goosebumps wherever she touches. Whispering sweet nothings into your ear and chuckling at how you shiver in pleasure.

While you cuddle, she absentmindedly rubs her thumbs over the scars. Humming along in acknowledgment while she listens to your various stories about how you got them. If you don’t want to tell her just yet, that’s okay. She won’t push. Though she’s curious, she respects your privacy as much as you respect hers.

Shadowheart kisses over them all, keeping eye contact as she moves over your soft, gorgeous body, starting from your legs and slowly making her way up to your forehead, making sure to pay attention to every inch of you.

“Your scars—“ She says in between kisses “—do not make you— any less beautiful.” She tucks your hair behind your ear as she finally presses a hot kiss to your lips.

If you have newer scars, Shadowheart will look after them with a detailed and thorough multi step routine. Being a cleric, she obviously knows how to tend to new wounds and deeply believes in keeping a good skin care routine. After all, the skin is the largest and one of the most important organs of the human body. She can’t have the person she loves be so neglectful to their own health.

Every day Shadowheart applies sunblock to your scars and bare skin, even if you try to shoo her away. She rubs nice smelling oils on your scars that she said helps the healing process. You’re not sure what it is or what it does specifically, but you can’t deny Shadowheart when she so desperately wants to take care of you.

She’ll never tell you, but you’re the first person she’s ever shared her routine with. Now every time she’s buying or mixing some new skin products, she always makes sure to get some extra just for you. She even makes sure to get the ones with your favourite smells💜

[itchytitss]

Let’s be two silly clown girls and smudge our makeup together🤡👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

[itchytitss]

Some amazing screenshots of Shart in the Ilithid pod

[itchytitss]

Possibly my favourite screenshot of Shadowheart I have ever taken

[itchytitss]

My half-elven Tav and her beautiful gf💜

[itchytitss]

Hi!

I’m Australian and my pronouns are she/her

This is my gayass side blog where I can be my true lesbian self🥰💖🎀👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

Fics are in the works! I have written for/will write for the ladies from Baldur’s Gate 3, The Last of Us 2, Arcane and Resident Evil.

I don’t expect to be a super active poster, but I will post wlw fics/drabbles when I feel like it :)

(Masterlist hopefully coming soon. Just scroll down to see all my stuff because I haven’t posted much yet since I just started hehe)

I have another side blog where I write hetero fics for another fandom. It’s fun but the fantasies aren’t what I want personally. Especially as a lesbian. So here is were I’ll post my wlw fanfics that I base on my personal wants😈

(Disclaimer: I use the label lesbian for simplicity and lack of confusion, but I really prefer queer. I don’t 100% know what I am. Labels are difficult for me, but if I have to choose I would say I identify as lesbian because it fits better)

About me:

I am autistic so video games are a sort of special interest for me and I obsess over fictional characters quite easily lol.

I love women and the occasional fictional man lmao, but obviously this blog is just wlw content. I love making up silly little fan fics in my head and writing them down in my notes app. I write them purely for myself when I have time but I have decided to maybe post some that others may like. I don't expect to be a regular poster, but l may upload some fics or rambles every now and then. This blog and any fics that I post have written is purely for fun and as a little self indulgent hobby :)

Some other video games and series I'm into are:

The Last of Us (my top favourite), Resident Evil, Final Fantasy, Kingdom Hearts, Silent Hill, Persona, Baldur's Gate 3, Life is Strange and many many others!!!

Other interests:

Broadway and musicals, Dungeons and Dragons, reading random Wikipedia articles at 1am, horror games/movies, voice acting, art, music, animals, learning languages, anime and manga, film and media, photography

I am neurodivergent and queer. DNI if you are homophobic, biphobic, transphobic, TERF, ableist, racist or going to send unnecessary, unsolicited hate. Blank blogs that I believe are bots will be blocked. Please do not repost my writing or feed it to AI. If you support AI in any form, either keep that shit to yourself or do not follow me or you will be blocked. Fuck AI. (Yes that includes character AI too)