#Ellis Pang | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

deardev0teddelicate · 23 days ago

Text

bitchin'n'moanin' |

jmxf!reader

Pairing: post-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Trekking west, walking all day, every day can get boring. You decide to entertain yourself, even if it pisses Joel off.

WC: 5.7k

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, female reader, no use of y/n, established relationship (of some sort) smut (oral [m receiving, mention of f receiving], brat/brat tamer dynamics, Joel is a little mean at times, dacryphilia [if you squint], choking, name calling, bondage, face fucking, manhandling, unprotected p in v [hearts before parts pls, don't be stupid like these idiots], creampie), mention of weapons, profanity, but of fluff at the end, no ellie au, personally i pictured pedro initially but then it got to the point where i started thinking about game joel so picture whoever you want ig

^if i missed anything lmk

Author's Note: it's done, thank god. i dedicate this to my handle of tito's.

Sexual content below, MDNI, 18+

It started when you woke up.

Your eyes fluttered open, the sky still soft and glowy from the sunrise over the horizon. Sitting up, you immediately noticed the rush of arousal that lay between your legs and the pang of need in your abdomen. You groaned knowing that the rest of the day was going to be hell, especially when you would be following behind Joel, watching his every step, his every move.

You turned to your side, bringing a hand up to your eyes to rub the sleep away. Sure enough, Joel was there. Awake.

He was already packing his equipment, rolling up his bed roll as tight as he could to optimize the limited space in his bag. Wearing the same denim button down he had on the night before, you noticed that he had haphazardly rolled up the sleeves past his elbows, exposing his very large forearms. The same very arms that would wrap around you when it was cold at night. The ones that would hold you in place as he buried himself deep into you.

Soft rays from the sun filtered through narrow spaces between the overlapping tree branches, caressing the contours of his face. His brow was furrowed in concentration, lips pressed together tightly. Darker bags than usual hung beneath his eyes. Must've not gotten the best sleep last night, you thought to yourself. Though, sleeping on the rough of the Earth every night left you tossing and turning too, when it was his turn to take watch.

You did feel guilty about that.

Joel planned out the shifts the two of you would take in the night, looking out for any signs of danger. You were well aware that the shifts were grossly uneven, no matter how many times you asked—pleaded—to take more. He would never let you, insistent on keeping the schedule consistent.

However, some nights, the two of you would stay up together, regardless of who was supposed to be watching. Those were the nights when your hands would be in his hair while he would kiss down your body, lapping between your folds drunkenly, sucking your clit, leaving your head spinning in pleasure. Those were the nights when you'd push him back and take him all at once, whether it be in your mouth or your pussy. You'd sit on his dick, riding him till he forgot his ow-

"Get up 'n pack. Gotta get movin'." His voice broke your train of thought, jolting you back into reality. Hyper aware of your too-loud, too-fast heart beat, you tried to reign yourself out of the memory of sharing body heat and passion, and into the present.

"Right," you muttered, looking away from him quickly, scrambling up to your feet, doing as he says. You suppressed a gasp that caught in your throat when the mid seam of your pants hiked up in a way that felt just right. Your panties were absolutely soaked with arousal. Back straightening, you looked over at Joel again. He had moved on to cleaning his gun with very precise, meticulous movements. He used a gentleness with it that you recognized from your late nights together. If only he would look over to you, see the intensifying need reflected in your eyes. You wished he would notice, that he would stride right over and ease the ache that pulsed in you. When he kept his focus on his own tasks, an idea popped into your head.

"Would you clean mine, too, while you're at it?" You asked him. He grumbled something.

"Thought I taught you how to do it."

"Well, yeah, but you're better at it," you looked over to him with a mischievous glint in your eye. He lifted his eyes up at you, finally, with irritation written on his lined face. Your heart fluttered at his gaze upon you. Could he be any more beautiful? "You also already have the supplies out, so might as well?"

His eyes narrowed, chin dropping down in annoyance before he turned back to his own gun. "Hand it over."

"Thank you," you said, walking over to him with your gun in hand. Leaning down to place it on the ground next to him, you stole a glance at him working. His focus was entirely on the gun, tunneling you out of his vision. The thought of taking him right then and there crossed your mind, get yourself off on him while you took his girthy cock all the way down your throat. But you knew that, if you did, precious daylight would be lost. There would be time for that later.

Instead you opted for something else. Reaching over, you placed your hand dangerously close to his dick, and licked one long stripe on the side of his neck, from the crook of his shoulder to beneath his ear. He stiffened under your touch and a muscle feathered in his jaw as he ground his teeth together. The sight of him about to lose control went right to your head, pride and confidence blooming in your chest.

He would never admit it, but you had him wrapped around your pinkie finger. If you knew Joel—which when you're crossing the entire length of the States on foot with only one other person for company, you learn that person like the back of your hand—he was seconds away from setting down his gun and pinning you under him. But before he could turn to you, you stood up, brushing the dirt off your knees.

Who says a girl can't have a little fun?

"I'm gonna go refill the canteens in that creek we saw last night." Turning on your heel, you left to go do just that. Joel watched as you walked away, his knuckles white and jaw clenched.

By the time you finished filling the canteens—gathering the water, boiling the water, letting the water cool and then pouring the water into the canteens—the sun was hanging above your head, warming your hair and face. You knew Joel would be more than done with his and your gun before you even finished your task, but that didn't stop you from lollygagging and stopping to look at a cool rock every once and a while. You weren't even at the campsite you and Joel had settled into the night before when he stepped into your line of sight.

He was carrying the bags and the guns, and a very unhappy look painted his features. Guilt washed through you, maybe you shouldn't have taken your sweet time. He dropped your bag at your feet and snatched his canteen from your hands, replacing it with your gun. The aggression that laced his movements should've diverted your antics, a not so subtle hint to cut it out.

You did not cut it out.

"Aw, thank you," you smiled at him. He scowled back, and turned to walk the direction that y'all were going in the night before. Your smile fell, and agitation wove into the back of your head. He wasn't playing with you. Shame. Frowning, you said, "You got dirt on my bag. You know you can just give it to me next time?"

It really didn't matter if he got dirt on it, though. The raggedy sack was covered in a film comprised of dirt and blood and soot. Your brows furrowed as he continued walked away, snapping at you by his thigh. Like you would a dog.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the way his attitude made butterflies of anticipation dance with snakes of vexation low in your gut. Jogging to catch up with him, you made it a personal goal to push every single hairline trigger of his throughout the day.

Time progressed, the sun beat down on your heads, causing sweat drip from your forehead. Sexual frustration and heat exhaustion stirred together, blurring the line between your intended playful teasing and genuine grievances that you were not afraid to let him know.

"Joel, lets take a break up here under that oak tree. It's really hot."

"We're not taking a break. Drink some water."

"But I already drank some earlier and I don't wanna run out."

"Swallow your spit then." You knew he's Texan, but where the fuck was this guy from?

"That won't do anything." You whined, dragging your feet. Under the relentless sun everything was too much. Your legs felt as though weights were tied to your joints, and your temples pulsed, your heart beat pounding in your skull.

Holy. Fuck.

"Joel, it's so hot, c'mon."

"Not even that hot. Keep up 'n stop complainin'." His southern drawl bit his words. If it were normal, and it weren't miserable, usually that southern twang would send you into a sick and twisted frenzy that could only be helped by his hands on you.

"It is that hot. And my legs are really hurting, can we please take a break?"

He never responded to you.

This back and forth went on for most of the day. At one point, you decided that kicking around a stone, about as large as your palm, while you walked would be entertaining. You tapped your foot against it, sending it tumbling forward a few feet. You would smile as it rolled, walking up to it and kicking it again. It drew your thoughts from everything, quieted the words in your head and the jittery nerves under your skin. Till Mr. Stick-Up-the-Ass turned around with a sharp 'stop it'. You huffed intentionally making it loud enough for him to hear your dismay. He didn't acknowledge you.

When the sun hung low in the sky, y'all stopped, setting up camp for the night. When he pulled out his rations and began to eat, your mouth dried up and your stomach sank. Dehydrated mystery meat—for whatever night in a row it was—sounded the very least bit appetizing.

"Can we hunt?" You asked Joel, hope filling your eyes. Every once in a while, Joel would go out with you to find some critter, usually a squirrel, or if you were lucky, a rabbit or something larger. Together, you would catch it, kill it, skin it, gut it, and cook it. Hunting was one of the rarer events in y'all's life, but the hearty, makeshift meal prepared and consumed in the comfort of each other's presence meant everything to you.

"No." He didn't even look at you when you started talking.

"But why not? We haven't in a while…could be fun," you tried to reason with him, your stomach beginning to grumble at the thought of food that hadn't been sitting in your bag for who knows how long.

"You have your rations," was all he responded. You just stared at him incredulously.

"Fine, whatever." You got up and walked out of the camp site. Most nights, he'd take first watch, but seeing him was making your blood boil and your head reel. Fuck his schedule. You needed some space to calm down.

You walked out a few yards, pacing as you rubbed your temples, trying to ease the dull ache that was ever growing behind your eyes. The whole goddamn day he was short with you, and in part it made your pussy throb with need, in another, it drove you up the wall, and not in the way you would prefer. He was driving you bat-shit crazy.

Huffing, you plopped down on a rock, trying to bring your heart rate down. You sat there, observing, breathing, trying to get rid of the thought of Joel, and this fuck ass day, and his shitty attitude. Tried to get rid of the thoughts of him slamming you down and fucking every thought from you. He captivated you, intoxicated you. God, dammit.

The inky, night sky arrived with your slow, careful breathing. It was only a matter of time before you'd have to go get Joel and swap out. Moving from your rock, you walked back to the camp site y'all set up earlier in the night. Surprisingly, Joel was asleep, leaning against his bag, arms crossed over his chest. He looked peaceful when he was asleep, despite his soft mutters and tensed shoulders. His face would relax, a state of tranquility washing over him.

Sighing, you trudged to your mat and thanked God he was getting rest. Man fucking needed it.

But when you sat down, he said with his eyes still closed, "You calm down yet, darlin'?"

The pet name rattled in your brain, your body suddenly on edge.

"I've been calm, thank you very much. I think you're the one who's not been." You replied calmly.

"That so?" He opened his eyes, moving to sit up and stand. "That why you've been complainin' all day?"

"I wasn't complaining all day. You were the one who was being short and rude to me." You shifted the blame to him, defending yourself.

"Short 'n rude? Wouldn't've had to be if you weren't whinin' every second." His voice rose a little, standing only a few feet from you.

"Maybe I wouldn't whine and complain if you weren't such a dick all the time."

"Name callin' now are we? Real mature, darlin'," his arms crossed over his broad chest, making his shirt stretch taught. Jesus Christ. You were about to say something in rebuttal, till you glanced down ever so slightly, to where you saw his cock hard against his jeans. Looking back up as fast as you looked down, you changed tactics. He was in the palm of your hand. You knew it, he knew it, though he tried to hide it.

You rolled your shoulders back, relaxed your face, and pointed down to his crotch, "You wanna take care of that before we keep going?"

Joel clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing down at you.

His lack of response only encouraged you further. Sighing, you said to him in mock condescension, "I would offer to help, but we both know that you'd finish before you even put it in me, and then I would complain because you would be spent before I could even get there myself, and then I would get bitchy, and you would get all pissy and, you know, it would be a whole ordeal."

A beat. And then, with a quiet firmness, he said, "Shut your damn mouth."

"I thought you liked it open," you taunted, trying to suppress the smirk that was tugging on your mouth.

Joel strode over to you till your chests were pressed up against each other.

"You wanna say that again?" He grumbled, looking down his nose into your eyes. Despite his words making your legs feel a bit weaker, you squared your shoulders, narrowed your eyes and didn't back down from his attempts to intimidate you.

"I said I thought you liked my mouth open, Miller," you made sure to punctuate the last few words and emphasize his name. You knew you were playing a dangerous game, but doesn't high risk yield high reward? Well, you were cashing in.

Joel lifted his hand to wrap around your throat , pushing you back against a nearby tree. "Fed up with your bitchin'n'moanin'," he hissed, reaching his other hand down to the apex of your thighs, palming you through your pants.

"And I'm tired of you bein' a grumpy old man all the fuckin' time," you retorted, working your fingers into the waistband of his pants. Two could play at this game. "You wanna boss me around? Fine, but some manners and a conversation every once in a while would be nice."

He leaned in close, so close you could feel the flickers of his breath on your lips, a ghost of a kiss. "Like you know what manners are. All day you been actin' like petulant child, throwin' a tantrum when y'don't get what you want."

You felt the hair on his stomach, signaling you were close to where you wanted to be. Opening your mouth to give a smart reply, he squeezed his hand ever so slightly on your neck, the pressure utterly euphoric. The words, once in your head, drained away and were reduced to nothing but a resigned whimper. All damn day, you were waiting for this all goddamned day.

"Nothing to say?" He asked, his hand now inside of your waistband, fingers resting at the top of your slit, a feather light touch. "Huh?" His grip on your neck released and blood rushed to your head, dizzyingly. In a swift movement, he pulled your hand from his pants and pinned it above your head, against the jagged bark of the tree. "Maybe if you weren't such a fuckin' brat all day, I'd let you touch me. All ya had to do was ask, darlin'."

You looked hungrily into his darkened eyes. Say, all you had to do was ask? You softened your gaze, and pouted your lips ever so slightly. "Will you fuck me?" And just in spite, you added, "Please? Pretty please, will you fuck me, Joel?"

He sneered, pulling his hand from your pants to grip your jaw, forcing it open. As he stuck his index and middle finger into your mouth, pushing down on your tongue, he said, "You ain't gonna say 'nother word, girl. And if you don't control yourself, I swear, 'm gonna fuck the brattiness from that mouth. Y'understand me?"

You nodded, as best as you could, your smirk subdued from his fingers filling your mouth. He pulled away, moving his hand to your throat once again, applying pressure, but not quite squeezing.

"Fucking say it."

"Yes," you whispered. Batting your eyelashes slowly, you held eye contact with him. You could tell he thought he had the upper hand. Hell, maybe he did have the upper hand on you, but you had him exactly where you wanted, so did it even really matter?

"'Yes' what?" He probed, shoving you further into the tree, bark biting into your skin through your shirt. You whined, from pain and pleasure deliciously chasing through your veins, making your heart jitter in excitement.

"Yes, sir." You whined, moving forward so your lips brushed his. How long could you tease him before he really broke?

"Attagirl," he murmured, the approval shooting straight to your core, before he attacked your lips with fervor. Excitement flipped in your stomach, coursing through your veins.

Your lips meshed together, tongue and teeth clashing against each other with the heat of desire. Your moans were captured by his mouth, and his by yours. He dragged his hand from your throat down to your clothed tit, squeezing gingerly. Goosebumps rose on your skin, a shiver shuddering through you, contrasting the sticky sweat that coated your skin. The juxtaposition of his soft touch on your breast to the fierce attack of his tongue and lips on yours made you feel exhilaration even the most intense drug couldn't replicate.

Your hand that was left unattended by him rested low on the tree beside you. While he was preoccupied, you slowly moved to palm him through his jeans. His eyes shot open at the feeling of your hand on his hardened cock. The pressure you had placed stimulated him in a way his nerves lit on fire. He let go of your tit, and within the blink of an eye, you were on your knees and both of your hands were locked in the grip of his right hand.

"You don't know when to fuckin' stop, do ya?" He began to unbuckle his pants, pulling them down just enough to free his cock from the confines of his clothes. "Since your insistent on getting my dick in your hands, let's see it in that mouth of yours."

His left hand gripped your lower jaw in a strong hold, thumb prying open your kiss swollen mouth. You could see the precum leaking from his tip, glistening in the moonlight, making your mouth water and your pussy ache with need for some sort of friction. Joel pushed his hips forward, his dick replacing his thumb. The change of weight in your mouth was a welcome difference.

He let out a hiss of pleasure as you sucked in your cheeks around him. You looked at him through your lashes, examining every twitch in his face, flutter of his eyelids, bob of his Adam's apple. He was a work of art, and when you had him like this, he deserved to be in a museum. After a moment of sliding your tongue under the velvety skin of him, he moved his free hand to the back of your head and pushed his cock further, down your throat. The tip of his cock squeezed itself into the narrow passage of your pharynx, drawing out a whimper from you. The sight of you must've been absolutely, utterly pathetic.

A guttural groan escaped from Joel's lips as his head tilted back in satisfaction, before he began to piston his hips. Saliva pooled on your tongue, lubricating his dick causing the lewd sound of him fucking your face echo in your ears. A particularly deep thrust sent his cock further down your throat, past where it would could settle comfortably, causing you to gag on his length. Tears brimmed your eyes while you focused on breathing through your nose. You moved your tongue to put pressure on a sweet spot of his, rubbing the spot with the movement of his hips, luring him closer and closer to finishing in your mouth.

"Fuck," His breathing faltered, but his grip on your hands and head tightened as his hips become to be more erratic. "Fuck!" You groaned at his words, sending vibrations up his dick that made him shudder. Tears began to overflow, running in single tracks through the dirt down your cheeks, muddling your sight and enhancing your hearing. The noises leaving him were practically pornographic. He was. So. Close. He was right there, just a little further and you had him.

Then, without warning, he pulled out from you completely, leaving you staring at him with half lidded, watery eyes, the feeling of him down your throat nothing but a phantom, now.

No, no, no, he was close, you were so close. A faint sob escaped from you in protest.

"Need to fuck you, darlin'. Need that pussy o' yours wrapped around me," he panted, chest heaving up and down rhythmically. He placed a hand on your cheek, smearing your tears with his thumb, gently. No matter how much you teased him, you had to admit that Joel's self-control was utterly ridiculous, and maddening for that matter. If he kept fucking your face, for even just two more seconds, he'd be cumming in your mouth by now. Whatever, you could still work with it.

You knew him, knew how close he was. And you could get him there. He just needed a little motivation.

"What's wrong, baby?" You rasped, panting, trying to catch your breath. "You feeling good?" Knowing your patronizing tone would just piss him off, you smiled sweetly.

"Brat," he snarled, pushing you to the ground, your face lying on the very edge of his bedroll.

Bingo.

"Think pissin' me off is cute?" You whined a hum of amusement. "Gonna look real cute takin' ev'ry inch of me."

You tilted your head, so your nose buried into the soft material of Joel's mat. It smelled just like him—fire, sweat 'n' dirt, and the softest hint of gunpowder 'n' leather. The clink of his belt buckle hitting the ground rang in your ears, and was followed by the feeling of smooth leather bind your wrists together, allowing for him to use both of his hands on you. He worked efficiently to roll off your pants and underwear, the night air kissing your now bare skin. More ruffling of fabric was heard, a few grunts from him as he maneuvered his own pants off of his body. A shiver ran down your spine, and Joel's hand came up and over the curve of your ass. Every touch of his, was heaven sent to you. You savored anything and everything he would offer you.

"Look at that, darlin'. You're drippin' f'me." His fingers moved down to your pussy, gathering up your arousal from your hole and meticulously tracing up to find your clit. The moment his fingers passed over it, you mewled in pleasure, the muscles in your legs growing weaker and weaker by the minute, becoming more pliant under his hands.

"That's right," he drawled, circling the bundle of nerves. You felt a low thrum in your lower abdomen as intense pleasure radiated from your core. Your back bowed further as you tried to push yourself harder on his fingers hoping for more pressure, more friction. A deep moan elicited from your vocal folds.

"Joel," your eyelids had begun to feel leaden, and your vision was starting to go foggy at the edges. "Joel."

His fingers circled faster, and you could feel a your muscles tighten, your orgasm drawing close and fast. You felt him adjust himself behind you, lining up with your entrance. God, he was right there, all it would take is one small movement.

"Need somethin', darlin'? Or you just like sayin' my name?" You could hear the wicked grin on his face as he teased you, dragging his cock in your slick. You played games with him, and he had taken the baton from you. It was his turn now, whether you liked it or not—you didn't just like it, you craved it.

"Joel," you repeated, an indirect, direct response. A smile painted your mouth when he reached up to grab the back of your neck and pull you just enough off of the ground. You whined at his hands on you, to which he simply tsked.

"I know, darlin'," he said, his tip teasing at your entrance still. God, what on Earth was he waiting for? "And as much as I love the way you say m'name, I think you still need to learn that lesson o'yours."

Your brow furrows slightly at his words not quiet comprehending what he said to you.

"Jo-"

As you were going to ask him what he meant, he shoved your panties in your mouth. Tasting yourself, you moaned, the sound now muffled. He leaned over your body, and you could feel his breath on the shell of your ear.

"There, got that mouth and those hands o'yours put away. Gonna be good, now?" His voice filled your ear, blocking out all everything that could be heard elsewhere. Joel was all consuming, taking up every nook and cranny in your mind, body, and soul . Letting go of your neck, his fingers traced down lightly to your hips. The delicate touches on your waist tormented you, making you squirm.

"Uh uh, darlin'. I asked you a question. You gonna be good f'me, now?" He tsked, moving his hands further to your hips, suddenly holding you hard enough to leave bruises in their wake. Looking over your shoulder, as best as you could, you eyed him sweetly and nodded a soft yes.

"Good."

Without a second to spare, he pushed into you in one, smooth movement. Your eyes rolled back and your body melted into the roll at the feeling of being suddenly so full. Yes, God, yes. He stilled, the base of his curls at the base of his cock brushing the soft skin of your ass. Together, you breathed deeply, relishing in the feeling of each other.

He didn't wait long, though, till he hiked your hips up, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. The only thing your body could process was him. Nothing else mattered, nothing else existed. It was all him, and without him holding you together, you were certain that you would dissolve into thin air.

"Attagirl," you bit down on the fabric, preening at his praise. His hips began to move, his dick sliding oh so easily in and out of you, rubbing against all the right places. Out and in, in and out. His movements were slow at first, the pressure building up in your abdomen once again. Molten pleasure sparked from where you and Joel were connected, flowing through where his hands were on you, all the way to where his lips were now kissing just behind and under your jaw. The obscene noises of him slipping through your arousal only turned you on more, your wetness dewing his coarse hair, dampening y'all's skin. Your eyelids fluttered, whimpers sounding from you.

"Was this what you needed? You actin' up all day just 'cause you needed a good fuck?" You sighed, and nodded once more to him. You wriggled your ass further into him. He growled, pulling out of you completely, leaving you empty, exposed. You whined, objecting his rude abandon. Shivers ran down your spine at the chill of the air. You twisted to see what him.

His fingers were working to undo the belt around your wrists, skin burning from the friction, shoulders sore from the awkward positioning they had been resting in. Your newfound ability to move allowed for you to help him as he flipped you on your back. Together, you pulled your shirt up and over head. At the sight of your fraying bra, Joel reached around to unclasp it, revealing your tits to him in the cooled night air. His eyes raked over your body in admiration, taking in every ounce of your beauty. One thing you could say about Joel, he never failed to make you feel like the most gorgeous woman in the world. He would kiss, and worship every inch of your body. It made you feral.

Slowly, as if not to startle him like an untamed animal, you raised your hand to take the fabric from your mouth. He watched you do so and took your panties, stuffing them into his back pocket. Your eyes flashed at that. Taking his face into your hands, you pulled him down to you, initiating a hungry kiss. He took your offer, now fully hovering over you, your legs planted to the ground, knees by his waist.

Grinding into you, he reached down to pump his dick a few times in his fist and enter you again. A whole new feeling of euphoria blooming inside of you. He swallowed your moans, pressing you further and further into the bedroll.

Joel's lips left yours, ghosting down to your jaw, nipping along down to your clavicle. His teeth bit down on you skin, the heat from your blood pooling to the area. Letting go, his tongue washed over the bite, soothing the sting.

"Joel," you whispered, "please."

"'Please' what, darlin'," his lips left your chest, breathing heavily as he rested his forehead on yours.

"I," he thrusted out and into you, taking the breath from your lungs. "I want you to fuck me. Please fuck me, Joel."

And you didn't have to ask him twice.

He pressed your thighs up by your chest, stretching you even wider than you were, allowing him to spear into you deeper, hitting your cervix over and over and over with each thrust. Your eyes rolled back as he fucked you senseless. His thick cock filled your hole, splitting you open, spreading the juices from your pussy all over his dick and the inside of your thighs.

You found control of your body after a moment of getting used to being fucked like a toy. Snaking your hand down, you found where his was on your leg, holding them in place. Taking his hand from you, you brought it up to your neck, placing him where you wanted, letting the weight fall on you.

"Want me to choke you, darlin'? You like that?" He applied pressure, blood draining from your head. You simply nodded, your orgasm just within reach. His was too, his controlled movements in and out of you falling off rhythm, more sloppy.

"Yes, sir," you whimpered, shifting your hips to feel more of him.

"Attagirl," Joel muttered under his breath, coming down to kiss you. You could hear the wetness of the kiss, the wetness of your pussy pulsating around him. It was scandalous. "You just needed me to fuck the attitude outta you, ain't that right?" You hummed, the band in your abdomen tightening, your release imminent, now.

His rhythm picked up, and so did your breathing. You tapped a finger on his hand, and he released his grip on you, bringing it to the side of your face, holding you gently. His head fell to the crook of your shoulder, his lips fire on your sensitive skin.

"Joel, I'm right there. Please, Joel, please. Joel," you chanted, a sacred prayer on your lips, not caring however desperate you looked. Your walls were fluttering and clenching around him.

"Let go, darlin', been so good," his voice was breathy, but calm through his heavy breaths.

His words were the final blow of the hammer as you fell over the edge.

"Shit," he groaned, his motions falling to a stop as you felt him release, painting your walls white. Still riding your orgasm, your pussy milked him, pulling every last drop of him in you, his cum filling you to the brim.

He stayed in you, while your heavy breathing came to a slow. Beads of sweat dripped from his beard, falling on you and sliding down your sternum. When both him and you came down from your high, he pulled out of you, your arousal drenching him. His cum leaked out from you, sliding through your swollen folds.

He looked at you with a softness you hadn't seen on him in a while.

"You okay, baby?" You asked him, reaching for him to come back down close to you. He fell to your side, arm resting lazily on your waist pulling you to him.

"'M good. You okay?" He whispered into your neck while he rubbed your side up and down. You nodded, burying yourself into his chest. "Good. You did s'good f'me, darlin'." Your arm reached over to wrap around his neck, holding him tight.

"I love you," you said, just above a whisper.

"I love you, too, darlin'."

In the dark of the night, you laid there together. Just him and you listening to each other's heart beats and softened breathing.

You knew he didn't always say it, but he always would show you how much cared for you. And deep down you knew that you would always be his, just as he would always be yours.

#joel miller #tlou #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller tlou #joel x reader #pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #goddamn this was fun to write #i need this man #game joel miller

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orphicsun · 4 months ago

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need reader to worship ellie’s boobs :(

nsfw content below. thank for for the request anon:)

I just love the idea of Ellie having the most sensitive nipples..she is eager to feel your lips wrapped around the soft buds, tongue circling and so, so teasing. She could cum from just that, how you suckle on her tits like they just belong to you. Ellie used to actually be pretty insecure about her body, playing it off with jokes about having a flat chest or just trying to focus on whoever she was with instead, but you are so in love with her tits, with how small and cute they are, she gets so flustered about it but fuck if she doesn’t love it.

If you’re thinking of sub Ellie, she’d be whiny about it. You could give her soft tweaks and just teasingly play with her nipples while you’re fucking her with your tongue as she writhes beneath you. Maybe even under the rare circumstances that you convince her to ride the strap-on you bought together, you love taking the time to fuck up into her, rubbing deliciously at her sweet, spongey insides while panting against one of her nipples, losing your own composure at the way she brokenly moans when you nibble on her peaked nipple.

Top Ellie? Oh, fuck. I imagine her breathy groans as you whine and desperately mouth at her nipples, trying to focus on appreciating the sight and feel while she bounces you on her thigh. Your clit feels every single jolt, and Ellie has to try so hard to keep it together. “You just love my tits, don’t you baby? Yeah, yeah you do..” Or being able to feel her chest pressed up against your back when she has you from behind, grinding up into you teasingly to hear you whine, not just from her skills with that damn strap but from her nipples pressing down against your skin.

Ellie with nipples piercings is my personal favorite. She is extra sensitive, and she goes wild when you lick a stripe up each of her nipples, the cold metal feeling so nice against your wet, warm tongue.. She jolts, sending a pang of heat straight to your own pussy.

Yeah I love Ellie’s boobs😵‍💫

#ellie williams #tlou2 #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #the last of us part 2 #ellie smut #requests

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daryltwdixon · 2 months ago

Text

Joel Miller x Reader Just Coffee

fluffy Joel drabble to help clear my head. I was a barista for 8+ years and loved my regulars, so this is like a little slice of my life when I worked for a family owned coffee shop in the downtown of a city. Hope you enjoy! lmk if you want a ptII cause im thinking hot car sex w these two after their first date.

Inspired by that tlou (game) scene where Ellie asks if Joel used to go to coffee shops, and he admits, ‘All the time.’ And when she asks what he would order, he says, ‘Coffee, just coffee’

Vanilla latte, iced—extra pump of vanilla, three pumps of caramel, swirl, whipped cream. Chai latte, soy milk—hot, extra hot. Cold brew with sweet cream, shot of peppermint. London Fog—extra foamy, not too hot.

"Coffee. Just coffee."

You could’ve kissed him right then and there. And he was handsome enough that you wouldn’t even have to close your eyes. He must’ve caught the way your shoulders relaxed, how the sigh left your body like a weight lifted.

“Comin’ right up,” you smiled, ringing him up as he slid a few ones into your very, very empty tip jar.

‘Just Coffee’ guy settled at the small bar, joining the usual morning stragglers—people who took their time with their warm mugs, occasionally ordering a bagel or a scone to go with it. He sat next to your crossword regular, an older gentleman who always had a puzzle in front of him, filling in the blanks with unwavering confidence. Always pen, never pencil.

You left them to it, but your eyes drifted toward ‘Just Coffee’ now and then, making sure his mug wasn’t too low, wasn’t getting too cold.

The morning flew by in a blur of orders and chatter, the shop filling and emptying in waves. By the time you checked back on ‘Just Coffee’ guy, he was gone.

A pang of disappointment sat low in your stomach. You wished you would’ve gotten him talking—he had that air about him, the kind of presence that carried stories. The people who sat at your bar top, the ones who weren’t rushing in and out for their nine-to-five caffeine fix, were always the most interesting.

You were surprised to see him the next day. A smile lifted at his lips as he stepped up in line, cash at the ready in his large, dirt-greased hands. A man who worked manual labor, clearly.

"Coffee," he said, his twang deep and velvety. "Just coffee, miss."

"You got it," you said with a smile, handing him a warm mug of your house roast as he took his new usual seat at the bar.

"Dammit—" the man next to him muttered, scratching his chin with the tip of his pen. Steve, your crossword regular. Under his nose, the day’s puzzle sat partially filled in, his brow furrowed in frustration. “What in the hell is the ‘process of leveling or smoothing wet concrete’? Seven letters?" He called your name, exasperated. "You got any idea?”

"Steve, if I knew anything about construction, I’d be way further along on my home improvement projects," you called over the hiss of the milk frother.

"Screedin’ is the word you’re lookin’ for, I think."

‘Just Coffee’ spoke casually, like it was second nature, his voice rolling low behind the lip of his mug. Steve blinked at him, like he hadn’t even realized the man was there, his wide eyes darting between him and the crossword.

"I think that might just work! How do ya spell that now? S-C-R-E—"

"S-C-R-E-E-D-I-N-G," ‘Just Coffee’ said slowly, the drawl thick and steady as the letters tumbled off his tongue.

You smiled to yourself, glancing his way. Knew he had to be manual labor. But before you could turn and ask him about it, he was already stepping off the stool, giving a quick nod of thanks, and heading for the door.

A couple of ones landed next to his empty mug—more than the cost of his coffee.

He didn’t come the next day.

Or the day after that.

By the fourth morning, you caught yourself lingering by the bar, staring at the empty stool where he sat. The coffee shop was just as busy, orders coming in waves, regulars dropping their change into the tip jar, Steve grumbling over his crossword. But something was missing.

You’d gotten used to those hazel eyes meeting yours across the counter, the quiet weight of his presence. The way his dark, unruly hair framed his face, always a little windswept, a little messy, like he’d rolled straight out of bed and into a long shift. His hands—rough, calloused, dirt still lingering in the creases—wrapped steady around a warm coffee mug.

It had only been a handful of mornings, but somehow, he’d settled into your routine like he belonged there.

And now, the absence of him gnawed at you in a way that surprised you.

You should’ve asked him his damn name.

By the sixth day, you convinced yourself it didn’t matter. He was just another customer, just a passing figure who needed a caffeine fix before moving on. Maybe he found a different coffee spot. Maybe he’d never been the type to stick around anyway.

But on the seventh morning, as you wiped down the counter, movement by the door caught your eye.

You turned, heart kicking up against your ribs.

There he was.

Another worn flannel, same dirt-streaked hands, same heavy-lidded gaze scanning the shop like he hadn’t been gone for a week. And when those hazel eyes finally landed on you, a flicker of something warm and familiar crossed his face.

You pushed off the counter before you could stop yourself.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” you said, trying to sound casual, but you knew he could hear the lilt of amusement in your voice.

“How are ya, miss?” he drawled, stepping up to the counter, cash already in hand. “Been busy.”

You nodded, trying not to stare too long at the way his fingers curled around the worn bills. “Let me guess—coffee, just coffee?”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “You got it.”

As you poured, you finally asked the question that had been itching at you since the first day he walked in.

“You got a name, or am I just supposed to keep callin’ you ‘Just Coffee’ forever?”

He smirked, tilting his head slightly as he watched you.

“Joel,” he said.

You smiled, setting his mug down in front of him. “Well, Joel—hope you don’t disappear on me again.”

His fingers brushed the warm ceramic as he settled onto his usual stool. “Jobs come and go, just depends on the day, hunny.”

Hunny. It was damn near like honey dripping from his tongue in that slow drawl, thick and warm. The way it rolled off his lips curled low in your belly, heating your cheeks as you turned to the next customer, hoping to God he didn’t notice.

The middle of the week was always slow, which worked in your favor today. By the time the morning rush faded, you found yourself wiping down the counters, clearing dishes near the bar, and finally getting the chance to ask Joel about his life.

You rinsed out a mug, letting the warm water run over your fingers as you glanced toward him. He was nursing his coffee slow, one hand wrapped around the mug, the other resting loose on the bar. His posture was easy, relaxed, but you could tell there was something there, something deep in his bones that he carried.

"So, what kinda jobs come and go?" you asked, keeping your tone light.

Joel glanced up from his mug, considering you for a moment. “Construction, mostly," he said, rolling his shoulders like the very word made them ache. "Been a contractor for years—fixin' up places, layin’ concrete, buildin’ what needs buildin'.”

Figures. Those arms—strong, steady—the kind that looked like they knew the weight of real work. His hands were large, rough and calloused, the kind you’d feel long after they touched you. But, Joel was a customer. You weren’t thinking that, of course not.

"Guess that explains why you knew the crossword answer last week," you teased, tossing the rag over your shoulder. "Steve still talks about it like you pulled magic outta thin air."

Joel huffed, shaking his head. "Man’s usin’ a pen for a crossword, and I’m the one impressin’ him?"

You grinned, leaning against the bar. "Hey, knowledge is power around here, Joel."

He let out a quiet hmm and took another sip of his coffee.

Before you could press further, the bell above the door jingled, and you got up hastily to take the newcomer’s order.

“Don’t worry about him,” Joel called over, sitting up straighter, setting down his coffee mug as his gaze flicked toward the man.

He stepped inside, his dark hair long, face clean-shaven, dimples deepening as he took in the scene. Something unspoken passed between the two of them—something that made it hard to tell if they were coworkers, friends, or something else entirely.

Then the man clapped Joel on the shoulder, grinning wide, “So this is what you’ve been ditchin’ the mornin’ crew for, huh, big brother?”

Your brows lifted. Brother.

Joel exhaled hard through his nose, eyes narrowing with obvious irritation, but his posture remained loose—like he was used to this, used to him.

“What ya got for me, Tommy?” he asked.

You barely had a second to process before Tommy’s attention shifted to you. His gaze swept over you, warm and playful, before he leaned a little too comfortably against the bar, ignoring his brother.

“Well now,” he drawled, flashing you a grin that could probably talk its way out of a speeding ticket, “if I knew this was the kinda place Joel was sneakin’ off to, I would’ve tagged along a whole lot sooner.”

Joel muttered something under his breath and rubbed his forehead.

You crossed your arms, biting back a smile. “And here I thought he just liked my coffee.”

Tommy let out a low chuckle, tilting his head. “Can’t say I blame him, darlin’.”

Joel let out a long, long sigh, already done with whatever this was turning into. He stood, tugging his jacket over his broad shoulders before clapping a firm hand on Tommy’s back—firm like a warning.

“C’mon,” Joel muttered, steering him toward the door.

Tommy let himself be dragged, but not without a final wink in your direction. “I’ll be seein’ you around, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help the giggle that slipped past your lips as Joel shoved him out the door with far more force than necessary, the bell jingling wildly as they disappeared outside.

Joel glanced back once, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe the last two minutes of his life before heading off into the distance.

You just smiled, shrugging as you wiped down the counter.

But things changed after that morning.

Tommy only needed to step through the damn door before Joel was tensing at the bar, a muscle twitching in his jaw, his coffee suddenly the least interesting thing in the room. He continued to show up every morning, still ordered just coffee, still sat in his usual spot—but now, his eyes lingered on you more.

And now, he stayed just a little longer.

Not by much, not enough for anyone else to notice, but you did.

You noticed how his gaze flicked toward you between sips, how his fingers tapped idly against his mug whenever you laughed at something a customer said.

His brother joined him more too. You noticed the way he cut Tommy off real quick anytime his brother got a little too comfortable leaning against the counter, that exasperated “Tommy” carrying a warning underneath it.

And you noticed how his tips got just a little bigger after that morning, a couple extra bills tucked under his mug like an unspoken thank you.

So when a week passed—no sign of Tommy this time, no interruptions, just Joel sitting at your bar—you wondered if today might be different.

And it was.

Because today, as you cleared a dish from the counter, Joel cleared his throat. Not the casual kind, not the I’m just readjusting in my seat kind.

The nervous kind.

You glanced up, brows lifting. “What’s eatin’ ya, Joel?”

Joel exhaled sharply, shifting in his seat. “Yeah. Just—uh.” He scratched at the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes. “You, uh… ever eat anywhere that ain’t this place?”

Your lips twitched. “You askin’ if I leave my own coffee shop, Joel?”

His jaw tightened, clearly close to regretting whatever he was doing, but he powered through.

“I’m askin’ if you’d wanna get somethin’ to eat. When your shift is done.” He finally met your gaze, voice a little gruffer than usual, but there was something hesitant in his expression—like he was braced for you to shut him down, “With me.”

You leaned back against the counter, arms crossing as you took your time, letting him sit in it for a second. Watching the way his fingers curled around his coffee mug, how he resisted the urge to shift under your gaze.

Then you smiled. “Are you asking me out?”

His eyes flicked away, like he really hated how direct you were, but you could see the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Yeah,” he muttered. Then, after a pause—“That…a problem?”

You bit your lip, shaking your head. “Not at all.”

Joel’s fingers flexed against his mug. “Good.”

You grabbed a napkin and a pen, scribbling something before sliding it across the counter. “Then you’re gonna need my number.”

He eyed it, then you, something unreadable in his gaze before he finally, finally reached for it. His fingers brushed yours as he folded the napkin, tucking it into his pocket without another word.But you swore—swore—you saw the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he took another slow sip of his coffee.

Part II is here :)

#fluffy Joel miller #Joel miller #Joel miller x you #Joel miller x reader #Joel miller tlou #the last of us #the last of us fic #tlou one shot #Joel miller fluff #tlou joel #joel the last of us #joel x reader #the last of us hbo

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chantersboard · 2 months ago

Text

Lovely To Sleep With You

Word Count 5.8K. Joel Miller x f!reader. Immediately follows Lovely To Be Rained On With You but can be read alone. After getting caught in the rain and seeking shelter in a cabin, you fall asleep in Joel's arms only to be forced awake to a horrifying sight. We learn how Reader and Joel met and Ellie's there too.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, post-outbreak, canon-typical violence, smut, fingering female receiving, oral female receiving, finger sucking, unprotected piv, creampie

a/n: once again I am publishing this despite feeling it is not polished enough but I'm tired of it sitting in the drafts lol. Thank you in advance for reading, liking, and reblogging, it really means a lot. #chantersboardwritessometimes for other written stuff

Can be found on AO3 if you'd prefer to read it there

Lovely To Sleep With You

The dangerous torrential storm has finally weakened to typical bad weather. Rain batters the cabin, its weathered roof leaking and forming puddles on the dull and damaged flooring. The room is heavy with moisture, filling the space with musty air. The insistent wind shakes the windows and whistles through small opened spaces.

Night had descended. Yesterday’s crescent moon was gone and replaced with utter darkness. The heat of the day was gone too, causing a chill in the air.

You lay against Joel on the old, sagging mattress with your cheek against his chest. You are both dressed only in your undergarments, your wet clothes scattered around the cabin with the hope they would dry by morning. Despite your bare body pressed close against his warmth, a shiver runs through you. Joel rubs a rough hand over your thigh and drapes your leg over his waist, pressing you even closer to him.

“I can start a fire,” he says tiredly, thinking of breaking down the old furniture for firewood. You lift your head and press a kiss to his neck. Your hair, still damp from the trek through the rain, brushes against his shoulder. A pang of guilt washes over him. He should do more to make you comfortable.

“We shouldn’t risk it,” you say, yawning as you return your head to his chest to listen to his beating heart.

Joel tightens his arms around you in response. He hadn’t seen signs of raiders or infected around, but you were right. There was no need to call unnecessary attention to yourselves.

You sit in silence with Joel’s chest rising and falling beneath you as his palms mindlessly rub patterns on your skin. He marvels at how soft you feel against him. His hand runs down your spine, over the curve of your behind, then over your thigh. Your body fits so perfectly against his. Why had he waited so long for this?

Why had you?

“When did you know?” he asks, his hands finding their way back on your waist.

You lift yourself up to look Joel in the eyes. “When did I know what?”

He places a warm hand on the back of your neck and rubs small circles with his thumb. Joel always had a hard time expressing himself. He had an even harder time getting others to express themselves.

“When did you start…” he pauses, mulling over his words while he commits your face to memory. Your confusion is still evident in the way your eyebrows scrunch together. Your lips are slightly parted and he swallows at the recollection of those lips pressed against his. You are so beautiful, he thinks. Really? Why had he waited so long? He decides to just blurt it out. “When did you start likin’ me?”

Your beautiful lips curl into a smile before emitting a soft giggle. The sound fills his chest with a lightness he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. You return to your spot on his chest, your sleepy eyes falling shut. “The first night we met.”

Joel is caught mid-yawn by your confession. “Seriously?”

“Mmm-hmm,” you mumble, already drifting off to sleep. “‘member that night?”

Joel closes his eyes, the exhaustingly long day catching up to him. “Yeah, I do.”

----

Ellie drags her feet, her worn sneakers picking up the dry dirt and leaving a plume of dust behind her. The sound of the coarse ground crunching underneath her is deafening in the quiet of the cool night.

“Ellie!” Joel scolds. It’s been fifteen minutes of nothing but the maddening noise.

“Joel!” The teen says back with a wag of her finger, her tone seeping with mockery.

Joel inhales deeply and takes a moment to compose himself. “Lift. Your. Feet.”

Ellie pouts. “But I don’t wanna trip again,” she whines. “It’s so fucking dark. Can we stop for the night? Please?”

Joel looks down at her. He could see in her posture that she’s tired. Truth be told they have been walking for some time, but the landscape had been mostly barren and too exposed. Joel felt it was unsafe to settle here.

“Just a bit longer,” Joel reassures. He points to a lone, single story house in the distance, the only appropriate shelter he could see. “We’re almost there.”

Ellie straightens her back, lifts her feet, and quickens her pace. “Good. I’m exhausted.”

---

Joel is already armed with his pistol when they walk across the porch to the front door of the house. Ellie stands behind him, her hand fisted around a blade, ready for whatever may be behind the door.

Joel wishes this wasn’t second nature to him. He hates that it’s second nature to Ellie. The hypervigilance, the violence, the terror. None of this should be normal.

Joel turns the door handle with ease and pushes the door open. He raises his pistol as he crosses the threshold. He quickly scans the room for danger but only finds a dusty living room. It’s obvious the place was picked through and deserted long ago. Drawers are left hanging out of a desk against the wall, a pile of books rests near an overturned bookcase, shards of a broken mirror shine against the moldy, old carpet.

He walks through the house with Ellie a safe distance behind him, while room after room is searched and found just as empty as the one before. He glances at her when there’s only one room remaining, its door nearly closed against the frame. Ellie tightens her grip on her knife and gives Joel a nod before he nudges the door open with his foot.

“Don’t come any closer!”

Joel instinctively pushes Ellie back as he looks across the room and sees you.

———

You’re sitting on the floor by a small pile of pillows, a threadbare blanket is puddled by your feet. Your bloody hands shake as they hold a gun pointed at Joel’s chest. Despite the fear that tightens your throat, you square your shoulders. You stare at the man, stare at the gun pointing back at you.

He takes you in, his eyes looking past the barrel of the gun and towards your blood soaked arms. He can see where tears have left streaks down your dirty and bruised face. He looks into your wide eyes and sees the panic there. He’s all too familiar with that panic.

“We mean no harm,” he says, making no attempt to lower the muzzle trained on you. “We were only lookin’ for a place for the night.”

You say nothing. Too afraid to talk, too afraid to do anything at all.

“We’ll leave,” he takes a cautious step back. “We’ll find somewhere else.”

You watch him take the girl’s hand as he takes another step back. The gesture is protective and filled with care. It makes you envious. How lucky is this little girl to have someone protect her? He pulls her behind him, keeping the line of your gun only on him. You look into his eyes and in that moment you think he might be just as terrified as you are.

“Wait,” you whisper, lowering your weapon. You can let them go. You should let them go. In this world one wrong decision is the difference between living and dying. But something about them feels right. Something about them feels safe.

You point your weapon to the side and pull the trigger. The gun clicks, the firing pin striking against nothing. There’s no ammo. You haven’t had ammunition in weeks. With the charade of force exposed, you chuck the useless weapon aside.

“It’s not loaded,” you say, hoping your intuition was right, hoping this man shows you mercy. The pair stand still, neither advancing or retreating. You can tell the man is calculating the situation, weighing all his options as his eyes flit between the discarded gun and your open bloodstained palms. You try to push the scale in your favor.

“There were awful men around here before.” You wipe your hands on your thighs attempting to rub away the gore. “Were,” you emphasize. “You should still stay here. It could be dangerous out there.”

His eyes narrow. “It could be dangerous in here,” he says, but you notice the subtle change in the way his shoulders have relaxed.

You shake your head. “I don’t think you believe that.”

“Maybe I could be dangerous,” he says, his hostile words softened by the lilt of his accent.

You pause, looking him over. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, exposing muscled forearms and clean hands. The hair that curls around his ears leads to a strong jaw cushioned by a closely cut beard. Despite the scowl etched into his face his brown eyes are warm and soft.

“I don’t think I believe that.”

You watch each other, seconds ticking by with nothing said. In the far distance the distinct screech of a clicker rings out. You raise your eyebrows in a silent statement: See? It is dangerous.

“I’m Ellie.” The girl still guarded behind the man says. She ignores the man’s grunt of protest and peeks her head around him. You give an encouraging smile and she steps beside him. She places a hand on his wrist and lowers his gun. “And this is Joel.”

You nod your head and introduce yourself. “Nice to meet you,” you say, and you truly mean it.

A moment passes while Ellie looks at your arms. “Shit. That’s a lot of blood,” she says. “Are you hurt? We have bandages--”

“That’s enough,” Joel pulls the girl behind him again and motions down the hall. “Go out there.”

“But Joel--”

“Go. Now.”

In a huff Ellie turns on her heels and heads down the hall. Joel returns his attention towards you. With his fingers still wrapped around his gun he gestures down at you.

“People did that to you?” he asks. “You hurt?”

You shake your head understanding what he is truly asking. Are there bite marks underneath all of that? Are you infected?

“No, I’m not hurt.” You close your eyes and visions of your struggle with two raiders earlier in the day flash behind your lids. The memory turns your stomach. “I ran into some men that thought I’d easily give up my supplies.”

Joel nods but you can still sense his hesitance. “You’ll have to forgive me for not bein’ so trusting.”

“No, I understand.” You eye the gun in his hand and try once more to gain his trust. “You can check me for marks if you want.”

When his expression doesn’t change you take a deep breath and unsheath the knife from your belt clip. You handle the flat sides of the blade, still stained with blood, and offer the handle to Joel. “If it makes you feel any better you can have this too. It’s all I have.”

Joel looks at the knife and considers it. He wonders if any of this is worth the trouble. Surely he and Ellie could find somewhere else to rest. They didn’t need to stay here. They didn’t need to share space with a stranger. But then he looks into your eyes and finds sincerity there. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw genuine sincerity. With a sigh he shoves his gun into the holster on his hip and closes the distance between you. He gently pushes the knife back towards you and with a grunt he lowers to his knees.

“The girl out there? She’s very important.” Joel pauses as he looks down the empty hallway. “To me,” he adds.

You slide your knife back into its spot on your waist. “She looks like a good kid,” you tell him.

“She is,” he says and when his attention is returned to you there is a ferocity in his eyes. “I will do anything to protect her. You understand? Anything. ”

You swallow dryly and weakly nod, accepting the threat hidden in his words.

“Hey, Joel. You wouldn’t believe what I found!” Ellie comes down the hall, grinning from ear to ear, with a large bowl in her hand. “There’s a real life well in the back! You know, the kind you gotta pump and water comes out?”

“Yeah, I know the kind,” Joel says with a laugh as she places the bowl down between the two of you.

“I got some water in case you wanted to clean up.” She produces a clean piece of cloth and offers it to you. You hesitate to take it, somewhat in awe at her generosity. She really is a good kid.

Joel takes the fabric from her and motions out the door. “Go settle in. We’re leaving soon as the sun is up.”

Ellie waves her hand in a salute. “Yessir,” she says and marches back down the hall.

Joel dips the cloth into the bowl then squeezes some of the water out. “I’m gonna take you up on that offer to check you… just to be safe.” He waits for your hum of approval before he continues. “But I’m gonna clean your face first, while the water’s clean.”

You sit a little straighter and prepare for this stranger to touch you. “Yeah. Okay.”

Joel slowly raises the rag to your face and gently presses it against your cheek. The water cools your skin as droplets trickle down your neck. Joel takes his other hand and cups your chin, holding your head in place as his hand glides across your face.

His hands are large, so much so you nearly feel engulfed in them, but it surprises you how delicate he is. He moves smoothly, only applying enough pressure to loosen the dirt on your skin. He softly swipes the cloth underneath your eye with his thumb, not pressing too hard into the bruise that is blooming there.

He continues on, dunking the rag into the bowl and cleaning spots of your body with gentle, small circular movements then checking for abrasions. You watch him as he works, noticing the specks of gray in his beard and the broken face on his wristwatch. Your eyes follow the slope of his nose up to where his brows are furrowed in concentration. You notice his own face is covered in dirt and you recognize he smells of campfire smoke and sweat and greenery.

You wince when he brushes against your injured knuckles. “Sorry,” he whispers as he soothingly rubs your hand before continuing to scan your skin.

��I thought you were with them,” you suddenly say.

Joel pauses a moment to look you in the eye. “Hmm?”

“The men from earlier? The men I had to…” You leave the rest unsaid as you shake the thoughts out of your head. “I thought maybe there were more of them and they were coming back to kill me.”

You can feel the tears beginning to well in your eyes. You have lived in this terrible world for years but nothing prepares you for the grief and anxiety that comes after you’re forced to take a life. Nothing prepares you for the fear that crushes your soul.

Joel drops the cloth into the bowl and the displaced water splashes onto the floor. His features have softened, the look of concentration replaced with sorrow. He almost whispers when he asks, “was that your first time?”

You blink and the tears roll down your cheeks. “I’ve killed many of those things but actual humans? I’ve never needed to do that before.”

Joel considers you lucky. It isn’t safe outside the QZs. Hell, it isn’t safe inside the QZs, but out here it’s different. Wilder. Thugs, thieves, the demented. They roam this land freely and do as they please. It’s a wonder you’re just now experiencing this. But Joel remembers the first time he killed a man. He remembers the first time someone died in his hands. He sympathizes with you.

“It might not be tonight,” Joel says, swiping away one of your tears. “Or maybe next week, or next month. But one day this feeling won’t be so crippling. You do what you gotta to protect yourself and the ones you love. Ain’t no shame in that. That’s just how the world is now.”

You nod as you take in his words. You do what you gotta to protect yourself and the ones you love. Joel takes your hands in his and gives a comforting squeeze. It’s the first time in a long time someone consoled you. The warmth from his hands travels up your arms and settles in your chest.

“I think I’m done here. I don’t see anything.” He lets go of your hands, taking the warmth and comfort with him, and takes his time to stand up. “I’m gonna check on Ellie, make sure she’s alright.”

He heads out into the hallway but stops under the frame of the door. “I, uh… I don’t know what you’ve got going on but we’re headin’ west. You’re welcome to join us. If you want. Maybe use that gun to scare off some other poor fool?” He asks with a chuckle.

You laugh, your cheeks heating from his jab at you. “Yeah. I would like that.”

----

Joel’s yelling wakes you with a jolt. Again, he calls for you from somewhere within the cabin, his voice tense and worried as your name leaves his lips.

You rub your tired eyes, having barely slept. The cabin is still dark, the sky is still the color of coal, the rain is still pattering outside. You sit up in the bed, your pupils slowly adjusting to the darkness. Then, finally, your eyes widen at what you see.

Across the room stands a man, the barrel of his handgun pointed at Joel. Joel’s hands are raised in surrender as he stands between the two of you. The man’s clothes are soaked through, his wet stringy hair clings to his face. He looks sickly with a pallid face and an unsteady stance revealing a weak and tired body. But it’s the handgun steadily pointed at Joel that is most worrisome.

“Joel!” You breathe, your hands instinctively reaching to your side for the rifle that usually dangles there, only to grab at nothing. You look past the intruder to where your weapon rests against the wall near the open door where you left it earlier.

“It’s okay,” Joel reassures, turning slightly to look at you. His bare chest rises and falls quickly, his obvious worry betraying his calming words. “It’s okay,” he repeats.

The man erratically waves the gun. “Make her get up!” he shrieks. An alarmingly inhuman sound rattles in his chest as his body shivers. “Make her open the bag! I want the bag!”

The man points to Joel’s backpack slumped against the bed. Inside are the medical supplies that are much needed back at camp where Ellie waits for you. Some very good people could use those supplies. It’s unfortunate, but this man already seems too far gone to have any use of them.

You slowly shuffle towards the side of the bed, hesitating to get to the pack. “We can help you,” you manage to say despite your tight throat. “Just put the gun away.”

“Shut up! Shut up!” He takes a step to the side to get a better look at you, his gun following you across the bed. He eyes your barely clothed body and a look akin to lust twists in his wretched face. Joel places himself in front of the man again.

“Ay!” Joel yells to grab his attention. “Keep that thing on me.” He takes a small step towards him. “What do you need?”

The man wails, his skin looking even more sallow than it did only moments ago. “Sweater... sweater! It’s so cold, so cold…” His mind seems to fog as he curls his arms close to his chest. Joel inches closer before the man’s concentration returns, drawing his weapon forward again. “No! Water! I need water!”

You sit on the edge of the bed, your fingers digging into the mattress as fear beats in your chest and cements your feet to the floor. Joel stands tall, strong, and commanding but you worry nonetheless. What would you do if something happened to him? How could you explain to Ellie that something happened to him? The man slowly tilts his head, his eyes beginning to go glassy.

You have never seen it personally but you have heard stories of when people turn. They get volatile as they teeter between living and not quite dying. There is a short moment, before the infection takes over, before the animalistic urges and increased strength and stamina come forth, when the person is vulnerable. But at each stage the person can still transmit their infection, each moment must be handled with caution.

“Water,” the man softly repeats. He lets out a slow, sorrowful moan, his body quickly losing its battle with the infection.

“I have some right here…” Joel says sweetly. He takes another step, coming within feet of the other man. “Right… here…”

In a flash Joel bounds forward, startling the man to attention. He grabs for the weapon but not before a shot is fired. You wince, closing your eyes and covering your ears as the loud sound amplifies off the walls in the small space. After a moment, when the shock has subsided, you jump to your feet and turn towards the scuffle.

All you can see is a tangle of bodies as Joel wrangles for the gun. You look at him, trying to see if he’s been hit, searching for any injury, but they move too swiftly, you can’t see a thing. Joel pummels the man with his fists, shoving him closer to the door as he does so.

The man howls, the noise completely devoid of humanity.

They are near the threshold of the cabin when another shot rings out. The sound startles you, your panic increasing, as your ears ring. You move forward. You need to help Joel. You need to make sure he’s okay. You only need to get to your gun.

“Stay there!” he yells before you can advance any further. Joel has the man by the collar, and is pushing him through the doorway, darkness swallowing them as they tumble outside.

You stand there frozen, your ear facing the door as you strain to hear something, anything, other than the rain. It’s only then that you notice the stream of blood trailing out the door.

Your eyes follow the path, starting at the scattered droplets that increase into an unbroken line of crimson. You take cautious steps forward, your eyes beginning to fill with tears at the thought of this blood being Joel’s.

He is not hurt, you force yourself to think. He cannot be hurt. Since the day you met him he has been your source of stability and security. He has been your savior and your sanctuary. You can no longer envision a life without him. And now that your relationship has progressed, now that he has touched every inch of your body and you have felt every inch of him, you don’t want to think of a life without him.

You amble over to the bay window, your mind racing with horrible thoughts as your chest tightens. You lean into the windowed space, your knees knocking against the wood, straining your eyes to see through the darkness and through the rain. He is out there and you need to find him.

Just when you set your mind on grabbing your rifle and braving the blackened woods in search for him, Joel steps through the door. You pause, your breath caught in your throat as you take him in. His hands are still curled into fists, his dampened body glistens from the rain, but otherwise, he appears unharmed.

“Joel?” You whisper, your tears finally breaking through and falling down your cheeks.

His face softens when he looks at you, his hands relax at his side, the tension in his shoulders loosens. “Sweetheart,” he says, his accent a sweet song to your ears.

In a few paces he is quickly in front of you. He cups your face with both of his hands and uses his thumbs to wipe away your tears. You wrap your hands around his wrists. You need to touch him, you need to feel that he’s here.

“Are you hurt?” You ask, scanning his body for injuries.

“I’m fine. He didn’t get me.” He catches a falling tear with his finger. “I’m more worried about you.”

You sigh, pressing your face against one of his hands, the roughness of his palm grounding you. “I’m okay.”

Joel stares at you, weighing your words against the traces of dread that still lingers on your face. You do what you gotta to protect yourself and the ones you love. He pulls you in closer and presses his lips to yours.

You kiss him back, relief pouring over you knowing that he is alright. Your hands move to his chest, your fingers gliding across his wet skin as the kiss deepens. Joel’s hands leave your face to grab your waist where he pulls you close to him. His body heat envelops you as you moan into his mouth.

You love him, you think. You love this man and wish to be here in his arms for the rest of your life.

Joel breaks the kiss. “I’m glad you're okay,” he whispers against your lips.

You press your fingers into his chest, enjoying the feeling of the hair under your touch. You listen to the rain beat against the roof. “I love you,” you admit.

Joel smiles, the corner of his eyes wrinkling as he quickly responds, “I love you, too.”

And then his mouth is on yours again, hungrier this time, as his tongue pushes past your lips. He grabs handfuls of your behind and pulls you into his hardening crotch. You moan again as you rub yourself against him, feverish with the need to feel him.

Joel’s own fiery need to feel you has him unclasping your bra and freeing your breasts. He takes one in each of his large hands and gently pinches your nipples. Your back arches into his grasp, the sensation sending ripples of pleasure throughout your body. You lean back, lowering yourself onto the seat of the bay window, and push your chest forward.

Joel lowers his face and brings a pebbled peak into his mouth. His tongue dances across your nipple before he softly nips at it. You inhale sharply at the gentle pain and run your hands through his dark hair. Your breathing turns ragged when his mouth moves to your other breast, his tongue so warm and wet against you.

You rub your thighs together attempting to calm the ache that has been building there. Sensing your desire, Joel’s hand finds its way between your legs. You open yourself for him, moaning his name as his fingers drag across your panties, his fingertips finding you’ve already soaked through them. He moans against your breast as he pulls the fabric to the side and teases a finger between your lips.

“Already so wet for me,” he rasps as he looks up at you. His eyes are dark with desire. He watches you as he pushes a thick finger into you. Your walls tighten around him but your wetness allows his finger to smoothly continue on. “Look how fuckin’ wet you are.”

He begins to pump his finger in and out of you, your pleasure increasing each time he slips back inside.

Joel licks his lips. “I think there’s room for one more. But first…” Joel pulls his finger out of you and you whine at your emptiness. He wraps his fingers around the band of your underwear and pulls them down your legs. Once you're freed of the undergarment you spread your legs wide for him, pleading for him to return there.

Joel lowers himself between your legs. “What a beautiful pussy,” he whispers, running a finger across your slit. He places a soft kiss on the inside of your thigh. Then turns his face and kisses the other. He leaves a trail of kisses on your thighs, each time reaching closer and closer to where they meet.

You whine again, your desire for him breaking you apart. “Please, Joel,” you beg. “Please.”

“Beautiful, needy, pussy,” he says before his broad tongue licks up your slit and settles on your clit. You moan loudly as he sucks on your bud and slips two fingers back inside you. He hooks his fingers upwards as he pulls his hand out and slams it back in again.

Your eyes close as the pleasure builds. The tip of his tongue circles around your clit and you gush around his fingers as they piston in and out of you. “Oh, Joel,” you cry and he continues, mercilessly, sucking on you and pressing against that soft spot inside you until your pleasure peaks and you fall apart under him.

Your fingers tangle in his hair as your orgasm plows through you. You grind your hips into his face, riding every wave until they settle into gentle ripples. Once the tension in your body has relaxed, Joel presses a quick kiss on your clit and slowly pulls his fingers out of you.

Joel rises and brings his fingers, wet with your arousal to your mouth. “See how fuckin’ good you taste,” he says and you part your lips. He slips his huge fingers into your mouth, coating your tongue with your own release. You suck around him, massaging his fingers with your tongue until they’re clean.

“Good girl,” he purrs as he pulls his fingers out of your mouth. He leans in, his hard cock in his boxers rubbing against your mound, and brushes his lips against yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, locking him in your embrace. You move your hips against his, demanding to be filled again, demanding the length of him.

Joel tuts. “Still needy?” He pulls down his boxers and lets them drop to his ankles. He takes himself into his hand and slowly pumps himself. Precum pools at the tip then slides down his thick shaft. He brushes himself against you, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock and smearing your wetness onto him.

“Goddamn,” he whispers, lining himself at your opening. “So fuckin’ messy.”

Joel slowly pushes himself inside you, savoring the feeling of your tight walls making space around him. You gasp, tightening your grip around his neck as your body accommodates his girth. He pauses when he’s fully sheathed in you, his breathing already ragged.

“Goddamn,” he repeats, then slowly, inch by inch, he pulls out only to push back in just as slowly. Again and again he slips in and out of you, taking his time as he does so.

His pace is maddening. The slow strokes leave you wanting more. Deeper. Harder. Faster.

You wrap your legs around him. “Joel…” you don’t even care that you’re whining. “Fuck me. Faster. Please.”

Joel reaches a hand between you and softly caresses your clit with a thick finger. Stroke by stroke he increases his pace, snapping his hips deeper and harder into you.

“This what you want, sweetheart?” He asks as the room fills with the sound of his body colliding with yours.

“I…” Your thought melts into a moan as Joel increases his speed. He’s so big inside you, stretching you wide open while his finger remains between your legs. With each swirl of his digit you clench harder around him, your second orgasm approaching even quicker than the first.

“You what, baby?” Joel asks as he plants kisses along your face. He snaps his hips into you, the thickness of him splitting you in two. “You want to cum again for me, hmm? Let me feel this beautiful pussy tight on my cock?”

You attempt to answer, willing your mouth to form coherent words but all that spills out is a strangled moan. A satisfied smile spreads across Joel’s face.

Your fingers dig into his skin. “Yes!” you gasp between moans. “Yes Joel, make me cum again!”

And that’s all the motivation Joel needs. He grabs your legs, moving them until your ankles are pressed against his shoulders, positioning you so that his strokes are deeper. He slides in and out of you faster and faster, each stroke filling you completely.

You love him. You love him and you love how he knows your body. He knows how to angle his hips so that the length of him pushes against that soft spot inside you that leaves you moaning and breathless.

“F-fuck,” you gasped between deep breaths. Your pussy squeezes around his cock, sucking him in, pulling him in closer to his own climax.

“Yes, baby,” Joel groans as the head of his dick pushes deep into you. His rhythm is faltering, he’s close to coming. “You take my cock so well. Your fucking pussy is squeezing me. Gonna make me come deep inside you.”

You fingers deep into his skin as your body tightens. He continues.

“Go ahead, sweetheart. Let it go. Come with me. I want to feel this pussy squeeze the cum out of me. Can you do that for me? Can you cream on my cock?”

You nod weakly, your mouth agape in pleasure as the tension in your core finally snaps. You come again, your core holding tight to Joel’s cock as he continues to drill into you. In a few pumps he’s right behind you, his moans echoing through the cabin as he stills inside you and comes. Rope after rope of his cum spills inside you. His load coats your walls, mixing with your own arousal until your spent hole is leaking.

Joel remains like that for a while. His dick softens inside you while you both catch your breath. The rain patters against the window behind you.

You reach up and press a hand against his face, feeling the roughness of his beard beneath your fingers. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” you say, the fear from earlier renewing within you.

Joel pulls out of you and your empty pussy weeps with your combined release. He lowers your legs and bends down to press a gentle kiss against your lips.

“I can’t promise that,” he says, always pragmatic. “But I can promise to fight with everything I have to keep you safe so that I can come back to you.” He kisses you slowly, deep, and lovingly. “I love you and I will always come back to you.”

You look up into his brown eyes and pray he is telling you the truth. You can’t imagine a life without him. You extend a pinky finger into the air. “Promise?” You ask and wait for his response.

Joel smiles, the happiness glistens in his eyes as he hooks his pinky against yours. “Promise.”

#joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #chantersboardwritessometimes

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tthoroughfare · 5 months ago

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kerosene // ellie williams

*･゜ﾟ･* summary: the setup of a slow burn between you and ellie.

*･゜ﾟ･* pairing: jackson!ellie x reader

*･゜ﾟ･* content: sfw

*･゜ﾟ･* length: 1.7k

so... this actually started out as NOTHING. i planned for it to be nothing. just me, my pages app and my love for jackson!ellie & that fuck ass hoodie against the world. howeverrrr i may or may not have written almost 10k so far that i'm planning to split up (and continue) into an ongoing series just focusing on you and ellie living in jackson, spending time with your friends, slowly falling in love. real piners rise

god i just love jackson ellie so much. her little nerdy cocky self

the idea of being friends and pining over each other for literal years because you’re both too scared to say anything… catching the other staring, having a few little moments here and there but chalking it up to nothing because you both don’t believe the other would see you like that.

and then she starts dating cat and you’re just like welp. guess this is really never ever gonna happen after all. you let yourself mope for a while, not wanting to go out as much for fear of seeing them together and feeling that strange pang in your chest — just overall being weird and avoiding ellie. you feel silly, really, locking yourself away and listening to sad music over someone you were never even with.

you selfishly hope it doesn’t last long, that it’s just a fling, but when months go by and they’re still together, you come to some sort of acceptance. you even date someone else for a short while to try and take your mind off of her, but quickly realize you’re just searching for scattered parts of her in someone else. and something in your gut tells you that while nothing’s wrong within the relationship, it just doesn’t feel right. doesn’t feel like it’s supposed to.

meanwhile, ellie’s mindset was that she never really saw you as attainable in the first place. and she did genuinely really like cat, so when she initiated the relationship, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t excited to see where it went. you were always at the back of her mind, though. she didn’t like the way you’d distanced yourself. you were never best friends, but definitely fairly close. she felt the switch almost overnight, the way you stopped going out of your way to talk to her, stopped asking her to tag along when you'd hang out with jesse and dina. she didn’t know what your deal was. the thought that you might be jealous did cross her mind, but she quickly swatted it away. why would you be jealous? it’s only her.

when you started seeing someone yourself, it was like confirmation. nothing was ever gonna happen, you weren’t jealous; how could any of that be the case when you were right there, with someone else? she cursed herself for even thinking about any of it, guilty conscience thick when her mind would then turn to cat. she knew she shouldn’t be deliberating whether you were jealous, whether you liked her, whether anything could ever happen between you, when she had a girlfriend.

she tried her hardest to push you out of her mind whenever you’d arise. she still saw you around, sometimes alone, sometimes with your girlfriend. you’d talk pleasantly, share a few laughs, but it wasn’t like it used to be.

and then one day, when she’s on her way home, she sees you by yourself. you’re sitting under a tree reading, headphones in. she can’t help but notice you look a little melancholy, like you don’t want to be bothered. she deliberates on whether to disturb you or not, stopping, then going to walk away, then stopping again. against her better judgement, she wanders over to you and nudges you gently with the side of her foot.

you look up, offering a small smile and tugging your headphones out. “hey.”

“hey.” ellie mirrors you, shooting back a soft smile of her own. a beat of slightly awkward silence passes as she tries to think of the reason she actually came over. she doesn’t even have one.

“what’s up?” you ask after a few seconds.

“uh… not much. just… uh… wanted to say hi.”

the corner of your mouth quirks into a slight smirk. “well… you just did.”

ellie breathes out a quiet chuckle, bringing her hands together to mess with her fingers. “very funny.” she pauses, then hesitantly crouches and sits beside you. “whatcha reading?”

you turn the cover so that she can see it. “mystery book,” you say, eyes flitting between ellie and the novel, before you rest it back in your lap, starting to lightly read again.

“you want me to tell you who the killer is?”

you chuckle, looking back up at ellie. “sure, take a stab at it.”

ellie’s eyebrows raise slightly. “pun intended?”

you tilt your head, raising an eyebrow as you realize what you just said. “nope. guess i’m just too witty.”

she looks down and smiles lightly, before looking up at the sky in feigned thought. she clicks her fingers. “it’s the priest.”

you let out a laugh. “there isn’t even a priest in it.”

“that’s what you think,” she quips back, feigning seriousness. “he will be introduced in… 43 pages.”

you roll your eyes, unable to hold back a smile. “shut up.”

“nope. wanna hear some more of my predictions? 100% accuracy guaranteed.”

“sure.”

“… you’re in a shitty mood,” ellie says matter-of-factly, before her voice softens. “seriously, you good? you look all…”

she trails off, gesturing at you slightly.

you chew at the inside of your cheek. truth be told, you are in a shitty mood, but you didn’t realize it was visible. plus, you don’t really want to talk about it. especially not to ellie, of all people. “yeah, nah, i’m fine.”

she just gives you a look in reply — one to say, ‘i’m not stupid’. to which, you let out a small sigh and shake your head. you’re not good at lying to ellie. “okay, i guess i may be in a… tiny bit of a slump.”

she shuffles a bit, leaning back on her hands. “why? what’s wrong?”

you pick at your nail, pausing. “i don’t know, man. just… yeah. stuff.”

“what kinda stuff?”

you curse her in your head for pushing, but simultaneously feel a pulse in your chest that she cares. you don’t particularly want to talk to ellie about your relationship. or lack thereof. it feels embarrassing, for some reason. in the end, you let out a small, defeated sigh. “ugh. just… so… i’m not with you-know-who anymore.”

ellie raises her eyebrows, trying to ignore the way she feels selfish relief. “damn. that sucks.”

you shrug. “i suppose so.”

another awkward pause occurs as ellie tries to think of what to say. comforting people has never really been her forte, but she wants to try for you. plus, she’s curious. “…wh-what happened?”

you look up, eyes flitting around the scenery, pulling a small face as you think. “nothing, really. just… wasn’t working. like… didn’t really feel right, y’know?”

she quirks an eyebrow, looking sideways at you. “so it was you, huh?”

you let out something between a breathed out chuckle and a groan. “…yeah. i felt really mean.”

“damn. you’re ruthless. heartbreaker,” she teases deadpan in response, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

to which, you roll your eyes and snicker, the smile lingering on your face. even in the worst mood, you’d noticed, ellie could always make you laugh somehow. “shut up. it wasn’t like that.”

“then what was it like?”

you shrug lightly, toying with the cover of your book. “i don’t know. went as best as it could, i suppose. i have nothing against her, nothing happened, it just… yeah. like i said. wasn’t right.”

ellie hums in acknowledgment, looking away in thought. her silence feels a little uncomfortable, driving you to babble on. “i don’t know, she’s nice and everything, but it just felt like we were kind of… wasting each other’s time. i didn’t see it actually going anywhere. i know we’re still young, and… y’know, it’s hardly like we have to marry each other or whatever. but something just felt missing. i don’t know.”

you glance at ellie briefly, then back down at your book, tracing the cover art with your fingertip. “like… you and cat. you guys seem happy. what does that feel like?”

she feels a little taken off guard. she’s not used to talking about this with anyone; anyway, nobody’s ever really asked. she shifts, sitting cross legged and leaning her forearms on her thighs, messing with her hands. “uh… i don’t know. i haven’t really thought about it.”

you furrow your eyebrows slightly. not really the reaction you were expecting. “oof. what does that mean?”

ellie lets out a drawn out hum, wrinkling her chin. “… i don’t know. i suppose it just feels… hm. it’s just… what it is. i guess.”

you pull a face, blowing air through your nose. “wow. don’t get too sappy on me, now. you’re gushing.”

her eyes roll in response to your sarcasm, a lopsided smirk on her face. “shut up.”

you mirror her smile, meeting her eyes for a few seconds, trying to shove down the way it burns a hole through you, makes your chest feel like it’s constricting.

the moment is broken by a call of ellie’s name. you both automatically look up, spotting cat strolling over with a bright smile on her face.

“speak of the devil,” you murmur jokingly, turning to look back at ellie briefly.

she scoffs in response, moving to stand up. when cat presses a small kiss to her lips in greeting, resting a hand on her arm, you avert your eyes.

cat looks down at you, offering a soft smile and a wave. “hey.”

“hey,” you reply, looking back up. you did really like cat. you weren’t necessarily friends, but she was cool, and funny, and always nice to you. you flit your eyes between her and ellie as she turns back, addressing her girlfriend.

“i was on my way to yours. we still watching a movie tonight?”

ellie looks down at you, then back at cat, an unreadable expression on her face. “uh… yeah, yeah. for sure.”

cat smiles at ellie, taking her hand and lightly swinging it between them. “… well, we’ll leave you to it,” she says to you.

you nod slowly. “yup. catch you two later.”

you wave half-heartedly at them both as they walk away hand-in-hand, free hands returning the gesture. you busy yourself with putting your headphones back in and choosing a new song, but if you were looking up, you’d have seen ellie look back at you. twice.

#tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams fluff #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams tlou2 #wlw fic #lesbian fic #my writing

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girlrotterr · 6 months ago

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୨୧⠀˙⠀" 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄."⠀｡ ꒱

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: artist!ellie x fashion designer!reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: You attend an art exhibition where you unexpectedly lock eyes with your ex-girlfriend, Ellie Williams, whom you haven't seen in years.

𝐀/𝐍: omg?! not me becoming consistent?! heavily inspired by "no one noticed" by the marias!!

The gallery is a cathedral of silence, punctuated only by the soft clicking of heels against the polished hardwood floor and the low murmur of voices echoing from every corner. The walls are a crisp, sterile white, meant to let the art breathe. But tonight, they seem oppressive, closing in on you as the weight of old memories seep through the cracks of time. You’re standing in the midst of it all, surrounded by strangers who admire Ellie’s work like they’re deciphering some abstract language.

But to you, it’s not abstract. It’s painfully familiar.

Your eyes drift over the crowd, catching fragments of conversation—chatter about technique, boldness, meaning—but they wash over you like background noise. Your mind is elsewhere, pinned in the past.

College felt like a lifetime ago.

It was chaotic, with you balancing late nights in the sewing lab, surrounded by mannequins and fabric swatches, while Ellie lived in the art studio, her hands constantly covered in charcoal, paint, or ink. There had been nights when you’d find her sprawled on the floor, sketching out her wildest ideas with frenzied energy, and you’d sit beside her, watching her create worlds you could only dream of.

Back then, you both were consumed by your passions and each other. She’d stay up late to help you finish a garment, sewing alongside you even though she hated it, just so she could be near. And you? You’d sit in on her critiques, quietly fuming when anyone dared to criticize her work, even though she could take it, even though she loved the fight. The memory of her smirk when she’d dismantle an argument from one of her professors—god, it still lingers.

But the fire that had burned so bright between you had also scorched everything in its path.

You remember the late-night arguments, when both of you were too stubborn to apologize, too young to realize that passion wasn’t enough to hold everything together. The breakup wasn’t dramatic—no shouting, no tears. Just a slow unraveling, a quiet drifting apart until one day, it was done. She moved on. You moved on. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

The years that followed had been a blur of fashion internships and city lights. You threw yourself into your work, traveling between studios, pouring every ounce of yourself into fabric, stitching your broken pieces into new designs. You hadn’t heard from her since. Not directly, anyway. You’d seen her name float around in the art world, her work gaining traction, and each time, you’d feel a pang of something you couldn’t quite name. Pride? Regret? A mixture of both.

And now, here you are, in her world once again.

Your gaze is drawn to the painting in front of you—a massive, turbulent landscape of violent brushstrokes and bold colors. The reds are fierce, like anger seething just beneath the surface, and the blues are deep, almost suffocating. It’s raw. Emotional. It feels like her. It feels like you. The two of you, tangled in something you couldn’t quite control. You step closer, your breath catching in your throat as you notice the delicate lines etched into the paint—small, subtle marks hidden beneath the chaos. You know those marks. She used to make them with the tip of her palette knife, carving out tiny details that most people wouldn’t notice unless they really looked.

You’re staring so intently at the painting that you almost miss the moment she walks into view.

Ellie.

The air shifts the second she enters your line of sight, like the whole room inhales in unison. Your heart stumbles over itself, beating out of rhythm, as if trying to catch up with the sudden rush of emotions flooding through you. You haven’t seen her in years, but it’s as though no time has passed at all.

She’s changed, but not in ways that feel unfamiliar. Her hair is still short, though it’s more trimed now, less uneven than you remember. She’s wearing that same damn brown jacket, the one she always wore like a second skin, only now it’s more worn, the creases deeper, the edges frayed. Her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows, revealing the tattoo that winds around her forearm— you remember tracing with your fingers in quiet moments. There’s a confidence to her now, a steadiness that wasn’t there before, like she’s found some kind of peace, even if it’s only partial.

But then there’s her eyes. Still that piercing green, sharp enough to cut through glass, or in this case, through the crowd. You watch as she shifts her weight, one foot tapping lightly on the floor, her posture betraying a flicker of unease as she nods absentmindedly to whoever she’s speaking to. Her hands are deep in her pockets, her thumb worrying the edge of the denim, a sign that she’s restless. She used to do that when she didn’t want to be somewhere—when she was lost in thought, in another world entirely.

You know her. You know her so well that it aches.

And then, as if drawn by some invisible string, her gaze lifts, scans the room, and lands on you.

It’s electric. The second your eyes meet, it’s like the ground shifts beneath you. Time folds in on itself, collapsing the years between you into this one fragile moment. You can see the shock in her expression, the way her brows twitch upward, just barely, before her features settle into something more controlled. But there’s no hiding the way her shoulders stiffen, or the slight parting of her lips like she’s forgotten how to breathe for just a second.

You’re both standing still, two statues carved in the midst of a gallery filled with movement, but you may as well be the only people in the room. Her green eyes are locked on yours, and for a moment, you swear you see a flicker of something there—something that mirrors the knot of emotions tightening in your chest.

Recognition. Pain. Something unfinished.

You can feel your pulse in your throat, in your wrists, in the way your fingers tremble as you drop your gaze for just a second. When you look back up, she’s still watching you, her expression unreadable, a mask of calm that you know too well. But underneath it—god, you know there’s so much more. Years of silence. Years of things unsaid.

She doesn't move. And neither do you.

You both just... stand there, holding onto the fragile tension between you like a thread waiting to snap. The air is heavy with what could be—what might’ve been—what still lingers between you like smoke from a fire that never quite burned out.

It’s your sophomore year, late spring. You remember because the air had that soft, electric warmth that made everything feel alive. You were both sitting on the edge of the campus fountain, surrounded by the sound of splashing water, the soft hum of people passing by, and the occasional flutter of birds overhead. Your fashion projects had been spread out between you—loose sketches and fabric samples fluttering in the light breeze—while Ellie’s hands were smeared with charcoal from a half-finished drawing she couldn’t quite get right.

“I don’t get how you do this,” she had muttered, frowning at one of your illustrations. She held it up to the light, squinting as if that would make the delicate lines make more sense. You had laughed, the sound coming out lighter than you’d intended, mostly because of how seriously she was studying your work. Like it was a puzzle she had to solve.

“It’s just fabric,” you’d teased, leaning closer to her to catch a glimpse of her concentrated expression. “You make art out of nothing but feelings—this should be easy for you.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t hide the smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Art out of feelings, huh? That’s one way to put it.”

You watched her for a second longer, your gaze tracing the familiar curve of her jawline, the sharpness of her cheekbones, the way her hair stuck up no matter how much she tried to tame it. There was a smudge of charcoal on her nose that she hadn’t noticed yet. You found yourself leaning in, almost without thinking, using your thumb to wipe it away. The moment your skin touched hers, her body went still—like you’d pressed pause on her every movement.

Her green eyes flicked to yours, and for the first time since you’d met, there was a shift. Something unspoken passed between you, heavy and undeniable, hanging in the air between your breaths. You were close—closer than you usually were. And you could feel the heat radiating off her skin, mixing with the spring warmth, making the space around you feel almost too small.

Ellie cleared her throat, her gaze dropping to your hand still lingering on her face. “You, uh… you didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.”

The words came out before you could stop them. And then the silence stretched out, pulling taut as the world around you blurred and fell away. The distant laughter of students, the splashing water of the fountain—it all melted into the background until the only thing you could focus on was the way Ellie was looking at you.

It wasn’t a stare. It was deeper. Like she was seeing you for the first time, really seeing you.

You didn’t move. Neither of you did. Time slowed, and in that moment, every boundary you’d carefully drawn between friendship and something more started to dissolve. You could hear your heart beating in your ears, your chest tight with anticipation, with something you hadn’t let yourself name before now.

Ellie’s breath hitched, so soft you barely noticed. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that,” she murmured, her voice lower than usual.

“Why not?” Your voice trembled, betraying you.

Her eyes flicked back up to meet yours, and there it was—the thing you’d both been avoiding for months. The truth that had been simmering beneath every shared glance, every brush of hands, every late-night conversation when the rest of the world was asleep and it was just you and her, tangled up in each other’s lives without even realizing how deep it went.

“Because…” she hesitated, biting her lip as if searching for the right words. Her gaze softened, like she was caught in a struggle between fear and wanting. “Because I wouldn’t know how to stop.”

The air left your lungs in a rush, and before you could second-guess yourself, before the doubts and the what-ifs could pull you back, you leaned in.

The kiss was soft, tentative at first. Her lips brushed against yours, the faintest touch, as if she wasn’t sure you were real. But then—god—then she kissed you harder, her hand cupping the back of your neck, pulling you in as though you were the answer to every question she hadn’t known how to ask. Her mouth tasted like spearmint gum and the faintest hint of cigarettes, warm and familiar. You melted into her, your hands gripping the edge of the fountain to keep yourself steady as everything around you spun.

In that kiss, there was no hesitation, no distance. Just the two of you, colliding in a moment that felt like it had been building for a lifetime. Her hands slid up your back, anchoring you to her, and you could feel the slight tremble in her fingers. But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Because you were kissing Ellie, and the rest of the world could’ve disappeared, and you wouldn’t have cared.

When you finally pulled back, gasping for air, you kept your forehead pressed against hers. The world had snapped back into focus around you—the chatter of campus life, the rustle of the wind in the trees—but it felt distant, muted, like it wasn’t quite real. Not compared to this.

Ellie’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked at you like you were the only thing she could see. Her breath was still shaky, her lips swollen and flushed. She swallowed, hard, and whispered, “I… I didn’t mean to… I didn’t…”

But you silenced her with a gentle smile, brushing a thumb across her cheek.

“You don’t have to explain.”

Because you both knew what it meant. You both knew that nothing would be the same after this, and you were okay with it. Maybe you were scared. Maybe she was too. But in that moment, wrapped up in the heat of the afternoon sun and the lingering taste of her on your lips, none of that mattered.

All that mattered was her.

The sound of your name pulls you back to the present. It’s bright and full of life, cutting through the thick haze of tension like a ray of sunlight. You turn just in time to see Dina pushing her way through the crowd, a grin spreading across her face as she practically bounces in your direction.

She’s the same as ever—sharp, effortlessly cool, with a wild energy that always made you feel like you were part of something big just by being near her. Her dark hair, tied up in a messy bun, hasn’t changed a bit, though there’s a new edge to her style—bold patterns clashing in a way only she could pull off.

Before you can even get a word out, she’s enveloping you in a tight hug, squeezing you so hard that you let out a laugh, the tension in your chest easing a little. She smells like lavender and cedarwood, familiar and grounding, and for a brief moment, the knot of emotions tangled in your stomach loosens.

“Oh my god, it’s been forever!” Dina practically yells, pulling back just enough to look at you, her eyes sparkling with genuine excitement. “I didn’t even know you were coming tonight! How the hell are you? You look amazing!”

You’re caught off guard by her energy, her enthusiasm wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You smile, shaking your head as you try to gather your thoughts. “I—yeah, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? I wasn’t sure I’d even make it, but, you know”

Dina snorts, rolling her eyes playfully. “Yeah, tell me about it. But seriously, I’m so glad you’re here! You—” she gestures at you with both hands, eyes wide as if she’s sizing you up, “—still killing it with the whole fashion thing, right? I saw your last collection! so damn chic! The textures, the layering—ugh, I wanted to steal every piece.”

You laugh, feeling a flush of pride at her words. “Thanks, Dina. I’m still trying to figure out what’s next, but I’m glad you liked it.”

“Liked it? Girl, I loved it.” Dina leans in closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I mean, between you and Ellie, the two of you were always the most talented people on campus. It’s wild seeing both of you making it big.”

The mention of Ellie’s name sends a ripple of tension down your spine, and suddenly, the room feels a little too warm again. You glance over Dina’s shoulder, and sure enough, Ellie is still standing there, watching the two of you.

Dina follows your gaze, and when she spots Ellie, her face lights up even more. “Oh, shit, you haven’t seen her yet, have you?” Dina’s voice drops to a mischievous whisper, her grin widening. “This is gonna be good.”

Before you can protest, before you can even think of what to say or how to brace yourself, Dina’s already calling out, “Ellie! Hey! Get over here!”

Your heart skips a beat, your pulse quickening as Ellie’s eyes flicker to Dina. For a second, she looks like she might hesitate, like the distance between the two of you is a bridge she’s not sure she wants to cross. But then, with a slow exhale, she starts moving, weaving through the crowd with that effortless stride of hers—confident, but never cocky.

And just like that, she’s standing in front of you.

Up close, the years between you seem even sharper. You can see the slight changes in her face— the way her lips quirk at one corner like she’s fighting a smile but doesn’t want to give in. Her green eyes, though, are as piercing as ever, and when they lock onto yours, you feel that same jolt of electricity you did back in college, the same spark that never really went out.

For a moment, no one says anything. The air is silent with unspoken words, with the history that hangs between you like a thread waiting to snap.

Ellie’s lips part, and she starts with something simple. “Hey.”

Dina, completely oblivious to the tension, claps her hands together with a grin. “Okay, this is weird for me. Two of my favorite people, standing here after all these years—this is like, full circle, right?”

You manage a small smile, though your throat feels tight. “Yeah. Full circle.”

Ellie shifts her weight, glancing at Dina with a wry smile before her gaze slides back to you. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” she says, her voice soft, like she’s trying to keep things light.

You shrug, trying to play it off. “Didn’t expect to be here either.”

But the words feel thin, hollow. Because standing this close to her, with the buzz of the gallery around you and the memories swirling like ghosts in the air, it’s impossible to ignore the truth.

This isn’t just a chance encounter. This is something you’ve both been avoiding for too long.

Dina shifts her weight, a perceptive glint in her eye as she surveys the two of you, the tension thick enough to slice through. She opens her mouth as if to say something—maybe to break the silence, to diffuse the moment—but then she pauses, that playful grin still dancing on her lips.

“Okay, you know what?” she says, clapping her hands together once more. “I just remembered I promised Jesse I’d check on him. He’s probably stuck at the snack table, drowning in mini quiches. So, I’ll be right back!”

Before you can even respond, she’s off, weaving through the crowd with that effortless grace of hers, leaving you and Ellie standing there, caught in a moment that feels suspended in time. The sounds of the gallery fade into the background—the murmur of conversations, the soft clinking of glasses—until it’s just the two of you.

The silence stretches.

Ellie shifts her weight again, her fingers fidgeting at her sides. You can see the thoughts racing behind her eyes, a whirlwind of emotions waiting to be unleashed, but the words seem to stick in her throat.

“So, how’s the show been for you?” you finally ask, trying to fill the space, to ease the tightness that’s creeping in. Your voice sounds a bit steadier than you feel.

Ellie’s gaze softens, and for a moment, the corners of her mouth twitch up into a small, genuine smile. “It’s… good. Better than I expected, honestly.” She glances around, taking in the vibrant colors of her artwork, the way the lights catch the brushstrokes, illuminating the stories behind each piece. “It’s kind of surreal to see it all up here.”

You nod, watching her as she talks. There’s a light in her eyes that flickers with passion.

“Your work is incredible, Ellie.”

She meets your gaze again, and there’s a flicker of something deeper in her expression—gratitude with a hint of vulnerability.

“Thanks,” she says, her voice quieter now, almost contemplative. “I’ve been trying to push myself more lately.”

Your heart swells with her words, and the warmth of the moment wraps around you like a comforting embrace. But then, as if sensing the shift in the air, the gallery begins to swell with new energy. The crowd thickens, laughter and chatter rising, and the once-intimate space starts to feel almost claustrophobic.

Ellie’s expression changes slightly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features. “I should probably go check in with some of the other guests,” she says, glancing over her shoulder. “Make sure everything’s okay.”

“Yeah, of course,” you reply, though a part of you aches at the thought of her leaving, of this moment slipping through your fingers like grains of sand.

But before you can say anything else, she steps back, creating a small distance between you. “It was really good to see you,” she says, the words almost swallowed by the hum of the gallery.

You nod, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat. “You too, Ellie..”

It was winter. Cold, biting, the kind of chill that seeped into your bones no matter how many layers you wore. You and Ellie were huddled in her tiny apartment just off campus, the one she’d insisted had “charm” but was really just a glorified box with bad heating. The windows fogged with condensation, and outside, snowflakes drifted lazily down onto the already blanketed streets. Inside, the space was warm and dim, lit by a single lamp in the corner and the flickering glow of a candle Ellie had lit for atmosphere.

But there was no warmth between you that night.

Ellie was pacing. Back and forth, back and forth, her hands running through her hair, tugging at it the way she always did when she was frustrated, on the verge of losing control. Her movements were restless, sharp, filled with an energy that seemed like it would combust if she didn’t do something, say something. She wasn’t looking at you—she hadn’t been able to for the past hour. And you, sitting on the edge of her bed, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, could feel the distance between you growing with every step she took.

“I just… I don’t know how to do this anymore,” she muttered, almost to herself, her voice strained, barely holding together. She stopped pacing for a second, pressing her palms to her forehead, her elbows resting on the back of a chair. “I feel like I’m drowning. Every day, it’s like… like I’m waiting for something to go wrong, and I don’t even know what it is, but I can’t breathe.”

Her words hit you like cold water, but you didn’t move. You couldn’t. You’d been feeling it too, the unraveling, the way everything between you had started to fray at the edges. It wasn’t sudden. It had been slow, creeping in like a shadow you couldn’t outrun. Long nights turned into silent mornings. Conversations that used to be easy, light, now felt like stepping through a minefield. Every fight, every misunderstanding, left scars you hadn’t been able to heal.

But hearing her say it out loud… that made it real.

“Ellie…” Your voice was soft, almost a whisper, like you were afraid of shattering the fragile air between you. “We can fix this. We just need to talk. We always work through things, right?”

She shook her head, her back still turned to you. You could see her shoulders rise and fall as she took a deep breath, as if she was trying to hold it all together. When she finally spoke, her voice was lower, more broken. “Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe we’ve been working through things too much, you know? Like, we keep trying to fix it, but it’s not working.”

You felt your chest tighten, your pulse quickening. The coldness of the room started to creep in, the warmth from the candle and the blankets no longer enough to fight it off. You stood up slowly, your legs shaky, and took a tentative step toward her. “Ellie, please—”

She spun around, and the look in her eyes stopped you in your tracks. They were red, bloodshot, like she hadn’t slept in days. And there was something else there—something raw, something you hadn’t seen before. Desperation, maybe. Or fear.

“I don’t want to keep hurting you,” she said, her voice breaking on the last word. “But that’s all I’ve been doing, isn’t it? Every time we fight, every time I say the wrong thing or don’t say enough… it’s like I’m breaking you apart, piece by piece, and I can’t stand it. I can’t stand being the one who keeps doing this to you.”

Your throat tightened, your eyes stinging with the threat of tears. “You’re not—” you started, but she cut you off, shaking her head again.

“Yes, I am!” Her voice cracked, and suddenly, she wasn’t pacing anymore. She was standing still, facing you, her fists clenched at her sides like she was trying to hold herself together through sheer force of will. “You deserve better than this. Better than… than me.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and final. For a moment, the only sound was the soft hiss of the candle flickering in the corner, the distant rumble of a car passing by outside. You could feel the weight of what she was saying sinking into your skin, settling deep in your bones. She was pulling away, tearing out a piece of herself, a piece of you, and you didn’t know how to stop it.

“Don’t do this,” you whispered, stepping closer, your voice trembling. You reached for her hand, desperate to hold onto something, anything, but she flinched, stepping back just out of reach. “Please, Ellie. We can fix this. We can figure it out, we always do.”

But she was already shaking her head again, her eyes glistening with tears she refused to let fall. “No. I can’t… I can’t keep dragging you down with me. You deserve to be happy, and I don’t think I can give that to you anymore.”

Your heart broke then. It shattered, piece by piece, with every word she spoke. You wanted to scream, to tell her she was wrong, that you could make it work, that love was enough. But deep down, you knew. You’d both been unraveling for months, slipping through each other’s fingers like sand. And no matter how tightly you tried to hold on, it wasn’t enough.

Ellie took a shaky breath, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet, barely audible. “I love you, but I don’t think I’m good for you anymore. And I can’t… I can’t keep pretending like I am.”

You stood there, frozen, as the words echoed in the small space between you. There was nothing left to say. Nothing that could change what was already happening. So, instead, you just nodded, your throat too tight to speak, your heart too heavy to protest.

She watched you for a moment longer, her eyes softening, filled with something that looked like regret, maybe even guilt. Then, without another word, she turned and walked toward the door, leaving you standing there, the candle flickering weakly in the corner.

The sound of the door closing behind her felt like the final nail in the coffin. The room was suddenly too quiet, too cold, too empty.

And you were alone.

The night air cools your skin, but the warmth of the gallery lingers, wrapping around you like a heavy cloak. You take a few steps down the street, trying to steady your breath, trying to shake off the flood of emotions Ellie’s presence stirred up. But as you reach the edge of the block, something pulls you back—an invisible tether, tightening around your heart. You stop, glancing back toward the gallery, the soft glow of the lights spilling out onto the sidewalk, the hum of conversations still echoing in the air.

You’re not ready to leave. Not yet.

With a deep breath, you turn and step back inside, the warmth of the space enveloping you once more. The crowd has shifted, people moving around the artwork like currents in a river, but you’re not drawn to any of them. Instead, you find yourself wandering, letting your feet carry you through the gallery without any clear direction.

The pieces on the walls are beautiful—Ellie’s unmistakable style shines through in every brushstroke, every burst of color. But there’s something else here, something you can’t quite put your finger on. You continue walking, the noise around you dulling to a low murmur as you lose yourself in the art.

And then, you see it.

Tucked away in a corner of the gallery, slightly off the main flow of the exhibition, is a painting that stops you in your tracks. Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, everything else falls away—the crowd, the noise, even the memory of Ellie standing just a few feet from you moments ago.

The painting is large, dominating the wall with its raw, unfiltered intimacy. The colors are rich, deep tones of reds and golds and shadows that dance across the canvas like firelight. And in the center, almost hidden in the interplay of light and dark, are two figures—tangled together, their bodies intertwined in a way that leaves no room for doubt. The lines are soft, delicate, but there’s a fierceness to the way the brushstrokes capture the curve of a back, the arch of a neck, the way two sets of hands grip each other as if holding on for dear life.

It’s you and Ellie.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you take a step closer, your pulse quickening with every detail that comes into focus. The figures are not exact replicas, not perfect portraits, but there’s no mistaking it—the shape of your body, the curve of Ellie’s form. The familiarity in the way your hands touch, the way your legs are tangled together, skin on skin, lost in the moment of sex.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, a rush of heat flooding your cheeks as the memories flood back. The night in question comes rushing to the surface—one of those endless nights in college, when the world outside had ceased to matter, and all that existed was the space between you and Ellie. The way her breath had felt against your skin, the soft murmur of her voice in your ear, the way she looked at you like you were the only thing that made sense in a world of chaos.

It’s all there, captured in the brushstrokes. The vulnerability, the connection, the way you’d both been completely unguarded with each other in a way that had felt terrifying and exhilarating all at once. The memory is so visceral, it’s like being pulled back in time, your body remembering the touch of her hands, the feel of her lips against yours.

You stand there, rooted to the spot, your eyes tracing every detail of the painting. It’s beautiful, in a way that makes your chest ache, but it’s also unmistakably private. This moment was yours—yours and Ellie’s—and seeing it laid bare here, for everyone to see, feels almost too intimate, like a secret exposed.

Your breath hitches as your mind races. Did Ellie mean for this to be here? Was it a message? Or just a piece of her past she needed to exorcise, to let out into the world in the only way she knew how?

You take another step closer, your eyes fixated on the way the light plays off the figures—your figure—highlighting the delicate curve of your waist, the way Ellie’s arm wraps around you, pulling you closer. It’s so raw, so unapologetic, and the emotions it stirs up are almost too much to bear.

You stand there, your heart hammering in your chest, you hear the soft creak of footsteps behind you. You know, without turning around, who it is. Ellie’s presence fills the space before she even speaks, the air between you charged with an intensity that has been building all night.

For a long moment, neither of you says anything. You can feel her eyes on the painting, then on you, her silence heavy with meaning. She’s watching your reaction, waiting—maybe even bracing—for what you’ll say, for how you’ll respond. You want to say something, anything, but the words seem lodged in your throat.

Finally, Ellie breaks the silence. Her voice is soft, almost hesitant, but there’s a vulnerability to it that makes your chest tighten. “It’s… from a long time ago,” she says, the words almost a whisper. “I didn’t think anyone would see it and know..”

You swallow hard, still unable to tear your eyes away from the painting. “It’s us,” you say, the words barely audible, but Ellie hears them. You can feel her nod behind you, even though she doesn’t say anything.

Another beat of silence stretches between you, the weight of the past pressing down on you both. And then Ellie speaks again, her voice lower now, more grounded. “I didn’t know how else to… capture it. It was the only way I could make sense of everything.”

You finally turn to look at her, and the sight of her standing there, just inches away, sends a fresh wave of emotions crashing over you. Her face is softer now, the hard edges you saw earlier had smoothed away. Just her, standing there, vulnerable and exposed in a way that mirrors the painting on the wall.

For the first time all night, the space between you feels real. Heavy with everything that’s gone unsaid for years.

You open your mouth to speak, but the words are still out of reach. Instead, all you can do is look at her, your chest tight with the weight of everything this painting has stirred up. There’s a part of you that wants to step closer, to reach out and touch her like you used to, to see if the connection that once burned so brightly between you still lingers in the spaces where your skin meets hers.

But for now, all you can do is stand there, your heart pounding in your chest, the memory of that night—of her —playing over and over in your mind like a song you thought you’d forgotten.

Somehow, you ended up here—Ellie’s apartment. You’re not sure how it happened. Maybe it was the tension in the gallery, the weight of the memories between you, or maybe it was Ellie’s quiet, almost tentative offer: “Do you want to come over for a bit?”

Now, the door closes softly behind you, and you find yourself standing in the small entryway of her apartment, the familiar scent of her space—wood, paint, and that faint earthy musk of hers—hitting you all at once. It’s like stepping back into a life you’d long since tried to leave behind, except everything feels slightly off now, like a song that’s being played just a little too slow.

The silence stretches between you, awkward and thick, as Ellie moves past you into the living room. Her apartment is small, but cozy. Messy in the way an artist’s space always is, with scattered paintbrushes, canvases propped up against the walls, and sketchbooks overflowing with half-finished ideas. It’s not much different from the space she had in college, except this time, the mess feels more intentional—like it’s been lived in, not just occupied.

You hover near the door, unsure of where to put your hands, unsure of where to put yourself. The air between you is charged, but not in the electric way it had been back in the gallery.

Ellie clears her throat, scratching the back of her neck as she moves around the space, avoiding your gaze.

“Uh, you can sit if you want,” she says, motioning vaguely toward the worn, comfortable-looking couch that’s pushed against the far wall. “I’ll grab some drinks.”

You nod, grateful for something to do, even if it’s just sitting down. The cushions sag beneath you, and you can’t help but remember the nights you’d spent like this before, curled up together on whatever hand-me-down couch she had at the time, talking for hours, or sometimes not talking at all. Just being.

But this isn’t like before.

Ellie disappears into the kitchen, and you take the opportunity to look around. There’s an easel in the corner with a half-finished painting—a cityscape this time, vibrant with color and movement. The table next to it is cluttered with tubes of paint, brushes, and crumpled pieces of paper with rough sketches. It’s Ellie’s world, laid out in front of you, and yet you feel like a stranger in it now.

The awkwardness creeps up your spine, settling in the pit of your stomach as you wait, the quiet stretching on and on. You can hear Ellie moving in the kitchen—bottles clinking, the soft sound of the fridge opening and closing. It should feel normal, familiar. But it doesn’t.

After what feels like too long, Ellie finally returns, two bottles of beer in hand. She hands you one without a word, her fingers brushing yours briefly in the exchange. The touch is electric, sending a jolt through you, but it’s gone as quickly as it came.

Ellie sits on the opposite end of the couch, as far from you as the small space allows. She takes a swig of her beer, her gaze flicking to the window instead of meeting yours, her posture stiff and uncertain. You take a drink, too, trying to focus on the bitter taste of the beer instead of the way the room feels too small, too quiet.

The silence stretches again, awkward and heavy, like neither of you knows how to bridge the gap. The weight of the past hangs between you—unspoken, but impossible to ignore. You’re both dancing around it, unwilling to dive in, yet neither of you knows how to avoid it.

“How long have you been working on the pieces for the show?” you ask, desperate to fill the silence with something, anything.

Ellie shrugs, taking another sip of her beer. “A while. A couple of years, I guess.”

You nod, not really sure what to say.

You can feel her eyes on you—intense and heavy.

“I don’t think I ever forgot how it felt.” she blurts out, her voice low and husky.

You swallow hard, your pulse quickening as the weight of her words hits you. You know exactly what she means. The memory of her hands on your body, the heat of her breath against your skin—it all comes rushing back, sharper now, more immediate.

Ellie leans back against the couch, her legs spreading just slightly as she sets her beer down on the floor with a soft thunk. She’s still watching you, the unspoken desire hanging thick in the air between you. It’s a look you recognize all too well—a look that used to drive you wild, that used to make you ache for her touch in a way that felt almost unbearable.

And now, sitting here in her apartment, that same ache is starting to stir inside you again.

“I know it’s been a long time,” she murmurs, her voice soft, “But I’ve been thinking about you. About us. ”

Her words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel your body reacting, your skin prickling with heat as the space between you seems to shrink. You can see the way her chest rises and falls with each slow breath, the tension in her body barely restrained. It’s like she’s holding herself back—just barely—but there’s no mistaking the hunger in her eyes, the way her gaze keeps flicking to your lips, your body, like she’s already imagining what it would feel like to close the distance.

You know you should say something, should acknowledge the fire that’s rapidly spreading between you, but you can’t find the words. All you can do is watch as Ellie shifts closer, her movements slow, her eyes never leaving yours.

“I’m not gonna pretend like I don’t want you,” she says, her voice dropping even lower, almost a growl. There’s no hesitation anymore, no awkwardness, just pure, unfiltered desire. “Because I do. I always have.”

The confession hangs in the air, bold and dangerous, and it takes everything in you not to close the gap between you and her right then and there. Your body is already reacting, your pulse racing, your breath coming faster as the tension between you reaches a fever pitch.

Ellie leans in slightly, her face inches from yours, her lips so close you can feel the heat of her breath against your skin. Her hand moves to your thigh, the touch light but deliberate, her fingers pressing against you in a way that sends a jolt of heat straight through your core. It’s a touch that’s both familiar and new, reigniting the fire that had once burned so brightly between you.

“You remember how good it was, don’t you?” she whispers, her lips brushing against your ear, her voice sending shivers down your spine. “I can see it in your eyes.”

Your breath hitches, and you feel your body responding, your skin buzzing with the memory of her touch, the way she used to know exactly how to drive you wild. The pull between you is too strong now, the desire too overwhelming to ignore. You want her—desperately—and you can see the same hunger reflected in her eyes, the way her hand tightens slightly on your thigh, her grip firm.

“Ellie…” you breathe, your voice a whisper, but she hears it. She always hears you.

She moves even closer, her lips brushing against your neck now, the warmth of her breath sending a rush of heat through your body. “Tell me you want this,” she murmurs, her voice rough with desire. “Tell me you want me.”

Your mind is spinning, your heart racing as you feel the full weight of her body leaning into you, her hand sliding further up your thigh, her touch firm. You can barely think straight, the heat between you unbearable now, every nerve in your body on fire as she presses her lips against your neck, soft but insistent.

“I want you..” you whisper, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. And as soon as they leave your lips, Ellie’s restraint shatters.

In an instant, her lips are on yours, the kiss rough and desperate, all the tension and desire that’s been building between you exploding in a surge of heat. Her hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, sliding up your sides, pulling you closer as if she can’t get enough of you. The kiss is hungry, wild, like she’s been starving for you for years, and now that she has you again, she’s not going to let go.

Your body reacts instinctively, your hands tangling in her hair, pulling her closer as you lose yourself. It’s overwhelming, intoxicating, the intensity of her touch, the way she knows exactly how to make you melt beneath her.

Ellie pulls you onto her lap, her hands gripping your hips, and you can feel the hardness of her body beneath you, the strength in her arms as she holds you close, her lips never leaving yours. It’s rough, raw, and so intensely familiar, like falling back into a rhythm you hadn’t realized you’d been missing.

Ellie pulls back just enough to catch her breath, her forehead resting against yours, her breathing ragged, her eyes dark and wild with need. “I need you,” she whimpers.

In a rush, your hands find the hem of ellie’s shirt, pulling it up and over her head. You toss it aside without a second thought, your eyes immediately drawn to her bare torso—her tattoo twisting along her arm, her skin flushed with heat. For a moment, you pause, breathless, as you take her in. She’s gorgeous. Strong and lean, every muscle under her skin defined, her freckles scattered across her chest like stars in the night.

Ellie’s breathing is ragged, her chest rising and falling heavily as she watches you, her lips slightly parted, her eyes burning with want. But she doesn’t say a word. Instead, her hands move to your shirt, tugging it up in one swift motion. You lift your arms, letting her pull it over your head before it, too, is discarded in the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Her gaze drops immediately, her eyes sweeping over your body.

There’s something in the way she looks at you—something intense,that makes your skin burn under her. Ellie’s hands rest on your bare waist now, her fingers brushing over your skin as she takes you in.

“Ellie…” you breathe, the sound a mixture of a plea and a gasp, urging her to continue.

“Fuck…” she mutters, almost to herself as she leans back slightly to get a better view. Her hands slide up your sides, fingers trailing over the curve of your breasts, the sensation sending a shiver through your entire body. She looks at you like you’re something to be worshipped, her eyes dark with want, her touch slow, as if she’s savoring every second, every inch of you.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Ellie whispers, she’s taking her time now, her hands exploring every inch of your skin, her fingers brushing over your collarbone, tracing the line of your ribs, before they move back up, cupping your breasts with a gentleness that contrasts the raw hunger in her eyes.

You reach for her, your hands roaming over her body, feeling the strength of her shoulders, the hard lines of muscle beneath her skin. Your hands move lower, exploring the soft dip of her waist, the way her body feels beneath your touch—strong, every muscle tensing under your fingers as you stroke her skin. You let your fingers trace the outline of her abs, feeling the way her body responds to your touch, the way her breath hitches every time your hands move lower.

Ellie's hands grip your hips with an sudden urgency, your slick catches against her cunt, the soft, wet friction sending pulses along your clit. You feel her body respond—every muscle tightening, every breath hitching in anticipation.

Ellie's hands grip your hips with an urgency, your slick catches against her cunt, the soft, wet friction making you pulsate. You can feel her body respond—every muscle tightening, every breath hitching in anticipation.

“n-need to feel you,” she gasps, her voice wavering on the edge of breaking, raw and desperate. The intensity in her eyes makes your heart race, an unquenchable thirst that mirrors your own.

You begin to grind against her, your slick meeting her puffy clit, the sensation making you gasp as the friction builds.

“Oh god, please..” you whimper, a moan escaping your lips.

It’s intoxicating, the way your bodies move together, the way every roll of your hips sends ripples of pleasure through both your pussies.

“Fuck,” ellie breathes, her voice low and filled with a mix of need and awe, her eyes locked onto yours as you move together, a slow, delicious rhythm that feels like it’s been waiting for this moment for years.

“Come here,” she begs, pulling you closer, her grip tightening as you continue to grind against her. The slick sound echos in the air, mingling with the soft moans that slip from your lips. Each sound you makes pulls ellie deeper, melody that makes her crave more.

Ellie shifts beneath you, her body arching in a way that allows you to scissor closer. You can see the way her chest rises and falls, each breath heavy. Your eyes flutter shut for a moment, lost in the sensations, and ellie takes the opportunity to lean down, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

The sound of her voice makes your pussy pulsate, your eyes snapping open as they lock onto hers. “d-don’t stop,” you breathe, your voice trembling with urgency. “I need m-more.”

“God, you’re s-so fucking good,” she whispers, her voice thick with desire, her gaze locked on yours, as if she’s trying to memorize every detail of this moment.

Ellie’s hands slide down your body, exploring every curve, every contour as she pulls you closer, her fingers digging into your skin, leaving marks that will linger long after this night.

“Ellie...” you breathe, the name falling from your mouth like a prayer. “Please, I need to feel you closer,” you whisper, voice all shaky.

Ellie gives in to the rhythm, moving faster, harder, each thrust sending shudders of pleasure racing through both of you. Your moans come out loud and whiny, mingling with Ellie’s desperate gasps.

“Fuck, yes!” You breathe, your body arching into hers, your hands gripping her arms as she pulls you closer. You can feel the tension building between you, the way your body responds together, every roll of your hips bringing you both closer to cumming.

“Don’t stop!” Ellie lets out a soft cry, her body tensing beneath you as the pleasure washes over her. You feel the way her body responds to yours, and it sends you tumbling over the edge, your own pleasure crashing down, pulling you both into ecstasy.

You collapse against her, breathless and trembling, the world around you fading away as you savor the warmth of her body against yours, the softness of her skin, and the way your bodies still pulse.

You turn your head slightly, your eyes catching a glimpse of the half-finished paintings scattered around her apartment, the abstract strokes, the splashes of color that seem almost chaotic, like her thoughts spilled out onto the canvas. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll be another one of those unfinished things—something she can’t quite complete, something left unresolved, a work in progress that she never intended to finish.

There’s a lump forming in your throat, but you push it down.

You won’t wake up to her. Not tomorrow, not ever. Ellie will go back to her life, and you’ll go back to yours, and this night will fade into the past, becoming another memory, another fragment of what you once had together.

With a quiet sigh, you press a gentle kiss to her shoulder.

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mentallyadinonugget · 10 days ago

Text

✮soulmate!ellie x soulmate!reader

tags: sfw, some fluff, vvv vague loser ellie, slightly deranged/feral reader, & soulmate au obvs.

word count: 2.3k

*. ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Growing up, you never quite grasped why people believed that having your soulmate's very first words permanently etched into your skin was so undeniably romantic and a true blessing. Perhaps it offered them hope that there’s someone destined to love them, their other half. Meanwhile, most of the folks you encountered had the sweetest meet-cutes and even more charming phrases like, “I’m sorry to say, but you have the most beautiful eyes ever” or “Hi, I saw you from afar and simply couldn’t resist introducing myself.” Your parents, on the other hand, had the most cringe-worthy first interaction imaginable, and heaven forbid you ever bring it up; it only inflates their already inflated egos. Maybe you were just a tad jealous.

Even the more common lines felt agreeable to you, like “Hi, what’s your name?” or “And that’ll be $9.99, tax included.” You knew it would’ve been confusing to receive something like that, but God knows you’d prefer it over what your “soulmate” actually said to you. You scoffed every time you glanced at your right arm, a constant reminder of how the person who’s supposed to love you eternally uttered, “Are you actually deaf, or is your head just wayyyy too up your ass all the time to hear anything?” Ah yes, folks, that’s the love of your life right there.

Whenever someone would mention their insipid, showy, dense soulmate’s first words like “You smell like tulips” or “Mister, wait, you forgot your wallet,” you couldn’t help but feel that pang of jealousy. But could anyone really blame you? People often tried to convince you that maybe it would be funny when you finally met or something vaguely similar, but you always silenced them with a glare, not wanting to hear another word about it.

Today was probably the worst day of your life. You got into a huge fight with your parents about something so silly that you couldn't help but laugh right now. You dropped some good manchow soup on your white T-shirt while getting up to get your plate to the dining table. You weren't sure what you were angrier about, your T-shirt or your soup. Just as you thought things couldn't get worse, your teacher sent a text in the group chat assigning all students extra work so late at night, ruining all the plans you had for the weekend. You couldn't pinpoint what pushed you over the edge or the reason why you were sneaking out to get fried shrimp at 4 in the morning. It was just one of those days.

You were out in your Hello Kitty pajamas and even comfier sweatshirt with your headphones in. You mumbled to yourself, "I would rather lick my tongue with a cheese grater than have someone I know from school see me like this." You texted your best friend, "Should I get the sweet chili or BBQ sauce?" But before you could get a reply back, you were tackled to the ground by someone on possibly a skateboard. Your palms and knees were scraped and bloodied. RIP Hello Kitty pajamas.

You got up to see this pale girl with short brown hair, a baggy T-shirt, and shorts. Her nose was bleeding slightly. Honestly, you would have found her quite attractive under any different circumstances, but right now you couldn't give less of a fuck about what she looked like or what she was wearing. You were having the shittiest day in the history of shitty days, and now your Hello Kitty trousers were ripped and you were covered in blood. Your sweet dreams of getting fried shrimp were shattered. So before you could even think about something reasonable, some vile words left your mouth. To your surprise, she didn't hold back either.

"Can't you see where you're going, you bumbling shit muffin?" you shrieked.

"Are you actually deaf, or is your head just wayyyy too up your ass all the time to hear anything?" she yelled with the biggest sneer on her face, getting way closer to your face than you'd like her to be. You could now clearly see the freckles on her face, her bloodied button nose, her green eyes, and the way her eyebrows furrowed in frustration. Maybe you would like that, tbh.

It took you a minute to realize what just happened.

Oh.

What the fuck

What the absolute fucking fuck, this can't be happening. Not when I look like this, at least you thought, and by the looks of the girl's expression, you were so sure that she was thinking the same thing. Her features softened slightly, and she let out a small chuckle, faintly blowing air in your face. “Oh my god, it’s you,” she exclaimed, her smile getting bigger. But once again, you couldn’t register what you were about to say and started screaming, “YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE YOU RUINED MY LIFE!” as you lunged at her, trying to punch her. She caught you with such ease you would’ve considered it hot if you weren’t so angry at the moment. “I’M THE ASSHOLE??? When YOU’RE the one who called me a shit muffin?” She barked a laugh. “Do you know that all my friends call me shit muffin now? I guess I do have to give you points for creativity.” She amused, and guilt took over you. All your anger vanished. “I’m sorry, I guess,” you murmured, avoiding eye contact. Before you could react, she grabbed your chin and enforced you to look at her. “What was that?” She leaned in, cupping her ear, pretending to hear you better, smirking a bit. “Oh, eat cock,” you rolled your eyes and pushed her away. “Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t swing that way.” She beamed. “I can’t believe it’s you,” she grinned ear to ear. “Why? I let down your expectations?” You half joked now that you finally started to believe that this was indeed happening. God, you were so nervous. What if she thought you were ugly, like a troll, or you frightened her by trying to knock her teeth in? God, how could I be so fucking stop, you introspected.

“W-what? NO, absolutely not. You’re beautiful,” she went on apprehensively, her cheeks quickly reddening as she said it.

“Please forget that I’m not this much of a loser on a daily basis,” she groaned, hiding her face in her hands and sitting down on the sidewalk. You couldn’t help but giggle. God, she was cute. “If it makes you feel any better, I thought you were hot before I punched you,” you said. “TRIED to punch me. I dodged that actually,” she boasted, wiping fake dust off her shoulders. This time you actually laughed. “Oh my god, you’re so lame,” you exclaimed. “NO I’M NOT,” she put up a performance which made you laugh even harder. You didn’t get it, but the girl was staring at you with the biggest smile on her face. “I’m Ellie, by the way, Ellie Williams,” she put her hand out for you. “(y/n)(y/ln),” you replied while shaking it. You got up and pulled her with you, both of you walking for no reason. It was quite peaceful, honestly.

“Well, miss y/l/n, what are you doing here at 4 am? Early morning run?” She asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, as if,” you scoffed and started telling her about your appalling day, and to your entertainment, she made stupid expressions, exaggerating her emotions on everything you said, putting a fake sword through her heart when you told her about how she’s the reason you don’t have your delicious fried shrimp with you right now. And in return, Ellie told you about how much she likes skateboarding, and she was trying to learn this new trick but kept making a lot of noise, so her old man Joel told her to take it outside. She told you how cool the trick is and even attempted to show it to you, failing miserably and making you laugh once again. You then noticed the blood on her face was beginning to dry up, so you asked her to come with you to some public bathroom.

You took out your pocket hanky and began to wet it, putting it on her face, cleaning all traces of blood, while she continued to yap about her other interests, which included dinosaurs and space, and it weirdly didn’t surprise you. You cleaned yourself up too and came out.

“I’m truly sorry for ruining your super awesome pajamas,” she forged an apology, her smile unwavering. “I’m sorry for almost breaking your nose; there’s nothing I can do about that.” You bowed to her, mirroring the energy she had given you, though deep down, you felt a twinge of guilt.

“Well, there is something you can do about it,” she said slyly. “And that is?” You raised an eyebrow. “Your number, maybe? And a date, but only if you want to, of course! You totally don’t have to hang out with me just because we’re soulmates. I mean, who even believes in that anymore? You probably don’t want to; we just met, so it’s reasonable. I could be a serial killer for gods sake.” She laughed nervously, glancing down as she played with her fingers anxiously. “Yes, I’d love to go out with you, Ellie,” you interjected, stopping her from rambling further.

“Oh, thank fuck” she exclaimed, relief washing over her as she pumped her fist in victory. “Ellie, what the hell? Just give me your phone, and I’ll type my number in for you.” You chuckled at her excitement. “So, where are we going?” you asked Ellie.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that; I know exactly what you’d love,” she smirked to herself. “Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever. But right now, I have to leave and get back home before my parents figure out I snuck out, okay?” you said, glancing at the time.

“What? No goodbye kiss?” Ellie teased, and before she could make another witty comment, you kissed her cheek and dashed away. “You better make it worth my while, Williams!” you called back as you fled.

As you neared home, a funny feeling crept in—maybe this soulmate business wouldn’t be as awful as you had imagined. Meanwhile, Ellie stood there in shock, her hand caressing her cheek where your lips had just lingered. She was utterly confused, yet her radiant smile remained unyielding.

Ellie Williams was utterly, truly, and tremendously fucked up over you, but luckily, so were you. _____________________________________________

Hi pretty ppl! this was my first ellie fic and I know this is a bit too long but I was having so much fun writing it I couldn’t stop im sorry okay 😞 if yall like it ill make a part two I just know

once again constructive criticism is more than appreciated but if you want to be mean do not interact with this at all

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