#ellie williams

[astroellies]

˚༄࿔ thinking of musician ellie who’s a total yapper on stage

i’m imagining those tiktok compilations like “… core” with music in the background

⭐︎ reading signs from the audience while her band (jesse and dina ofc) prepare for the next song like…

“this one says ‘ellie why did you invite so many people to our first date?’” the audience laughs and so does ellie, “sorry, the next one will just be us.” she says with a wink.

⭐︎ girls throwing lacy bras on stage and ellie holding them up to her own chest (that look comically big next to her) and saying, “this is not my size.” >:(

⭐︎ her going on absolute rants in between songs like “dude the weed in europe is way stronger, what the fuck are you putting in this shit? i thought i was dying.”

⭐︎ if her band is just her, jesse, dina she’d be like “we’re like boygenius…but with a man.” and they spend five minutes arguing about who’s who.

“how did we decide i’m julien?”

“because you’re short and gay, ellie.”

⭐︎ her trying to hold a lesbian (or other pride flag), getting tangled in it, and whispering “fuck” into the microphone in between lyrics.

⭐︎ tripping over wires on stage and telling everyone in the crowd to “delete that video right now. i’m not kidding.” as dina is laughing in the back.

⭐︎ reading more signs. “okay, okay this one says ‘it’s my birthday’ guys we gotta sing.” and singing happy birthday to a random fan.

⭐︎ handing fans the microphone and letting them tell stories about their crazy exes “she slept with your mom?” and she’d look the camera projecting her image on the screen behind her and back at the person. “what the fuck, dude.” while laughing behind a hand.

[dr-paint]

Team Jackson, Choose your fighter.

[marscardigan]

but i’m a cheerleader ! chapter iii. “no” is a full sentence

soccer player!ellie x cheerleader!reader

college smau. ellie williams hated your guts. at least, that’s what she told herself to keep from admitting she was completely in love with you.

series masterlist

addie’s user is so me 🗣️

perm taglist !

@valeisaslut @firefly-ace @sevslover @twopeoplee @mayfldss @maximumdreamlandcoffee @elliesfavgirlfriend @abcline006 @marieeeluvsyou

series taglist !

@vahnilla @elliecoochieeater @iheartclairo66 @smaugayra @thankynext @mascspleasegetmepregnant @machetegirl109 @rwreaqia @elliewilliamskisser2000 @liztreez @mikellie @prwttiestbunny @snuffphiliaa @ellieseightfingers @sparkle-jump-rope-queen @eriiwaiii2 @velvetinkbym @starletfemme @elliesbabygirl @d1psht @nomie-11 @leaaavesss @ravyaryn-n @elsbunny @pexurina @piercedome @desiretolive @robiceps @leahflwers

[ellieabbyy]

she looks so fucking good in this skin 😭

[darknight3904]

Glasses and All

Jackson!Joel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joel can't accept that his eyes are weakening with age, and you and Ellie set out to prove him wrong. Warnings: Language, Joel does not like getting older. Word Count: 1.5k Masterlist I saw the new pic from HBO and couldn't resist hehe. No pressure tags, thought you might enjoy: @freythecrazyfae @amyispxnk @greenwitchfromthewoods

Joel knew that it was just a part of getting older. Now well into his fifties, he should’ve expected that his eyes would start giving him trouble; he should’ve just accepted it, really. Instead, he found himself pretending like it wasn’t happening at all, choosing to strain the muscles in his face, pretending he could read the print of the book that lay in his lap. 

“And when the sun rose she walked-” 

“That’s not what it says.” 

He lets out a frustrated sigh, narrowing his vision like that would help the situation at hand. Your hair tickled his neck from where you rested your head on his shoulder. The two of you had started reading more, or well Joel would read whatever book you pulled off the shelf in the living room. 

“It says when the sun rose she woke with the first light.” You run your pointer finger across the blurry page in front of him 

“Sorry, hon, I think my eyes are tired. Been a long day.” He lies, feigning a yawn and closing the book 

“S’ alright. We’ll just pick up there tomorrow.” You sigh, adjusting to snuggle under the covers as he shifted to face you. 

You knew what Joel’s problem was, and it wasn’t the long shifts on the wall or the days he’d leave Jackson with Tommy for patrol. Joel’s issue was that he was blind as a bat. You were pretty sure he could still see distances, afterall a few weeks ago you’d watched him easily snipe an infected from a few hundred feet away. But, the moment he was reading a book or trying to follow a recipe from the Betty Crocker book you kept in the kitchen he struggled. 

So, here you were standing in the marketplace in Jackson, Ellie at your side ready to pick out a pair of reading glasses for your favorite old man. 

“Hey, what about these?” 

You turn to see Ellie holding a pair of bright pink glasses, the arms bedazzled and glittering in the sunlight as she moves them to and fro.

“I think if we got those, Joel might pluck his eyes out.” You laugh 

There is a pretty decent selection here sorted by strength and frame style. According to the doctor, who you’d secretly spoken to about Joel and his eyeballs, she thought he was hovering somewhere in the 1.75 or 2.00 range. 

“Oooo, how bout’ these?” 

“I don’t think Harry Potter glasses are the right fit for Joel.” You say 

“You’re right, these are wayyyy better.” 

You roll your eyes when you see Ellie pick up a bright red pair and slip them on, they were obviously made for a woman with the way the frames stylishly came to a point on both ends, giving the illusion of a cat eye. 

A simple black pair catches your eye and you look them over. Straightforward, plain, and almost boring, they were perfect for the man who loved nothing more than the world’s most bitter cup of black coffee each morning. 

Back home, you wrap the glasses in a green tea towel, pretending it was a secret gift might make him more interested. Hours later, Joel comes through the door, Tommy close on his heels. The brothers kick their boots off at the door before greeting you in the kitchen. 

“How was patrol?” You ask 

“Borin’, took out a couple of runners though.” Tommy says

Joel presses a warm kiss to your cheek and sneaks over to the stove where you have a pot of chili heating up. 

“Stop sneaking bites.” You scold, taking the spoon from his hands before he can dip into the pot 

“M’ starvin’.” Joel huffs 

“Yeah well, if Ellie can’t steal a bite before it's ready then neither can you.” You remind him 

Dinner is an uneventful affair, Tommy and Joel discuss patrol routes and a section of the wall that needs to be fixed. You and Ellie listen listlessly, as the teen picks out the beans you hunted at the market to find. 

“We got you a present today.” Ellie blurts suddenly 

Joel’s attention shifts and he swallows the mouthful of food he had stuffed in his mouth. 

“A present?” He asks 

You turn, pulling the towel wrapped glasses from their spot on the bookshelf before placing it before Joel. 

“Ain’t even Christmas, you don’t need to get me stuff.” 

“Just open it, old man.” Ellie says 

Joel shakes his head and you swear you hear him mumble a curse at the old man comment. 

It’s quiet as Joel holds the reading glasses in his hands, turning them over like they’re a bomb that's going to blow all of Jackson skyhigh. 

“Those are nice, frames will suit your face.” Tommy comments when Joel doesn’t say anything 

Joel's actions surprise you, wrapping the glasses back up in the towel, placing them down on the table next to his bowl, “I don’t need glasses.” 

“They’re just readers. It’ll help you when we’re reading together.” You say softly 

“Yeah well, I don’t need 'em’, take it back tomorrow morning.” 

You huff a frustrated breath as he stands up, walking back to the kitchen with his bowl. Why couldn’t he just accept that he needed them? 

“M’ gonna get goin’ Maria’s shift is ending and I promised to have the laundry going when she got home.” Tommy says suddenly, standing and hugging you. He ruffles Ellie’s hair as he leaves, thanking you for the food and taking a serving for Maria. 

“We’re not taking them back, right? He’s blinder than Pepe the horse.” Ellie says 

Pepe was an old horse that lived in the stables, he regularly walked into fence posts and the barn because he was genuinely pretty much blind in both eyes. You’re pretty sure the only reason he’s still alive is because the kids of Jackson love petting him. 

“Oh he’s wearing the glasses. I’ll glue them to his face if I have to.” You declare 

That night you lay next to Joel, the glasses laying forgotten on your nightstand, still wrapped in the towel from earlier. Joel sounds like a kid learning to read, he gets a word wrong and then doubles back to correct himself, it's driving you nuts. Slowly, you reach over, pulling the glasses out and shifting so you face him. 

“Ready to go to bed?” He asks 

Before he can raise his hands to stop you, you lean forward, slipping the glasses onto his handsome face. 

“Told ya, I don’t need these.” Joel sighs, staring at you from behind the lenses. 

“Oh c’mon. Humor me, besides,” You point to the mirror that faces the bed where both of you sit, “Y’Look handsome like this.”

“And I didn’t look handsome before?” Joel humphs 

“Not what I said, we’re keeping these and you’re gonna start wearing them around the house.” You command 

Joel gives you a look and you stare back at him, unwavering in your decision. 

“Fine, you win, but I don’t need them.” 

Joel holds you tightly, like you’ll run away in the middle of the night. Your head rests on his chest as he breathes deeply above you. You can practically feel the gears turning in his head as the two of you lay there. 

“What's wrong, cowboy?” You sleepily ask 

“Nothin’ go to sleep.” He lies 

You pinch at the soft skin of his waist, “I know you’re lying.” 

“Quit.” Joel commands, wiggling away despite his arms keeping you close to his body 

“Then tell me what's wrong.” 

A beat of silence follows as Joel sighs, “You aren’t…embarrassed to be with me?” 

You sit up, staring down at him like he’s just suggested streaking at the Tipsy Bison. 

“Why would I be embarrassed to be with you?” You ask 

“M’ an old man. My knees pop when I stand and my back aches whenever I bend over to fix something, an’ now I need glasses to read you your little stories…I just, you could be with anyone your own age, not someone who can’t even read the recipes in the cook book.” 

A soft laugh escapes your lips and Joel’s brows furr in frustration. 

“Somethin’ funny?” He glowers 

“No, no.” You smile, “You’re just…stupid.” 

“Gee thanks.” Joel huffs, “Just what I wanted to hear.” 

You lean down, placing a kiss to the tip of his nose, smiling as you do. 

“You’re stupid to think that I’d wanna be with anyone else but you. I don’t give a shit if your knees pop and your back aches. I love all of those things, it makes you who you are, Joel.” 

“Now I know you’re fuckin’ with me.” He huffs, “It ain’t funny, girl.” 

“I’m not!” You laugh, swooping down to rest your head on his chest before he can turn on his side to sulk in that Joel Miller misery he so easily turned on.

“I love you, glasses and all.” You promise into the soft material of his t-shirt

Joel lets out a deep sigh before pressing a warm kiss to your forehead, “Alright, you win. I’ll wear the glasses.” 

Season two is in less than a week, literally unreal. I'm shaking in my boots.

For anyone interested, I have a new multi-part Joel fic I'm working on. There's no ETA, but she's probably going to be pretty long. For anyone who's read my All Too Well series, I'm definitely making it longer than that. Here is a little exerpt:

“Are you fucking joking? We are not going west.” 

“And how is East any better?” 

“For starters, it's not closer to Califuckingfornia and its huge population.” 

You groan, wishing they’d stop the bickering already, it was starting to get old, they weren’t 8-year-olds anymore why couldn’t they just pick a direction? 

“Oh, and Atlanta is such a small city.” 

“We don’t know what west looks like, Tommy. We know Atlanta has something, those people told us!” 

“Oh yeah, you mean the people who offered us food before you waved a gun in their face and demanded their entire backpack and water supply.” 

“I didn’t hear you whinin’ when you were eating that food and drinkin’ the water last night!” 

You wish you could rip your ears off. Nothing like two brothers who can’t even agree on how to pitch a tent trying to figure out where to go during the literal end of the world. You lean forward, smacking your hand down on Tommy’s shoulder so hard he jumps.  

“Let’s just find somewhere to sleep for tonight, it’s getting dark.” You decide for them

This idea must be acceptable for the ever-elusive Joel because he’s turning off the road and into the woods to find a place to pitch the tent. After a few cans of Spaghetti o's and three peanut butter-flavored granola bars, you find yourself on your back staring at the dark fabric of the tent. 

The soft crunching of leaves and sticks fills your ears as Joel keeps watch for you and Tommy. You bury your nose under the edge of your sleeping bag, wishing it were thicker. Northern Texas wasn’t as forgiving in the winter the way Austin was. 

[scary-movie]

THE LAST OF US | SEASON 1 + SEASON 2 POSTERS

[bruciewayneofficial]

My biggest flex is that I met Ellie’s actor when I was a kid bc my dad worked with her :)

Bruce and any of his gremlins :)

That’s all 🤗

[elliesanqel]

catharsis but dom ellie pls pls pls Im begging😭

take it

sypnosis; roles are switched—seth spits out a nasty comment at ellie, causing your anger to flare up. she decided it was best to take you home, until she decides to find a way to control your anger.

cw; angst, smut, dom!ellie, sub!fem reader, car sex, strap use (referred to as a cock), oral sex, rough fucking, spitting, multiple orgasms, fluff, r!receiving all, men and minors dni.

a/n; there was a few reqs to write dom!ellie for this fic and i looove the idea so here it is! and ohhh if she ever looked at me like that…endgame!! and also, if i haven’t done your request yet, i promise i am either currently working on getting it posted, or im still writing it. a few will get released this week!

➝ masterlist

your eyes narrowed at seth, your whole body filling with heat as ellie just looked at him, her look almost puzzled. you werent doing anyone any harm, just purely kissing. thats it. yet it still gave seth the ability to spit out some homophobic comment one way or another. ellie was your girl, your princess. if anyone was even slightly rude—it’d make you angry. you just thought she was too precious to even be made fun of at all. she noticed the way your face twisted with disgust, and she knew you’d say something if she didnt act—causing her to take your hand in hers softly. “lets go.” she whispers, not wanting to cause a scene.

your eyes finally left seth, looking at ellies pleading face and softening when you did, but the anger still bubbled. you thought it was probably best to just leave instead of causing a scene infront of everyone. even though seth had already done half the job—you didnt want to finish it. you let ellie take you outside into the fresh air, her hand tightening around yours for reassurance. you didnt dare look at her, feeling to angry to even speak.

she knew—so she just walked hand in hand with you to the car. there was a big problem, though. ellie hated it when you didnt talk to her. she preferred talking it out and letting you rant to her, she hated awkward silence. she let go of your hand, watching you storm off to the passenger seat. she scoffed, taking the keys out of her pocket and opening the car, getting in and starting it.

“dont.” she begins, her voice firm as her hands grip the steering wheel, pulling out of the car park. you scoff, still staying quiet and you could tell she wasnt a fan of your growing attitude. “scoffing at me now? you’re brave.” she furrows her brows, her eyes stuck on the road as one hand stays on the wheel, the other on the gear lever. you roll your eyes, testing the waters as much as you could. you wanted this all to be over and the best way for you to do that was so stay silent and bottle it up. but not for ellie.

“baby, seriously,” she begins, her head rolling a little in annoyance. “drop the attitude. none of this is my fault, unfortunately theres always gonna be people like seth and theres nothing we can do. you know that, right?” she explains, firmness still in her voice as her eyes glance over at you before back onto the road.

you sigh, looking at your hands as you fiddle with your thumbs. “i know, but seriously why do we always have to be the ones to say something? nobody else said anything.” you groan as she listens to your rants.

she takes in a breath, understanding where you were coming from. “i know, sweetheart. trust me, i do. but we have to deal with it. you dont always have to defend me, im fine.” she explains, but clearly ut wasnt enough for you. you laugh sarcastically, the anger clearly still swarming you. “dont, ellie. dont make light of this situation, you know damn well its fucked up. so dont you fucking—“ you get louder, but before you can continue, she swerved the car to the side of the empty road, parking it. you gasp at her sudden move, confusion clouding your mind. “what the fuck was that fo—“ you begin, but she cuts you off again.

“lose that attitude and get in the fucking backseat.” she demands, her voice firm. you knew she wanted no argument but the way her voice went from reassuring to demanding in the matter of seconds led you to just listen to her words. you slowly unbuckle your seatbelt and get into the backseat of her car, looking at her as you did. her eyes never left you as you moved, her hand reaching into the glovebox, to her strap.

she took it into the backseat with her, her hands immediately wrapping around your thighs and placing you on your back along the seats and she crawled on top of you, parting your legs so she hovered inbetween them, her lips inching to your ear as her breath was hot on your skin. “angry, arent you? well i’ll make you a deal, baby. you take it like a good girl and i’ll fuck that anger out of you, hm?” she whispers, her voice almost mocking. leaving your eyes wide as you felt your body already growing limp under her touch.

your whole body shivered, leaning against the door of the car, eyes never leaving hers. she smirked at you, her look stern yet soft at the same time. with that, her hands reach up, tugging at your jeans, unzipping them and pulling them down—letting you lift your hips to help her tug them off and discard them somewhere, not really caring where. the heat that was growing between your thighs now displayed infront of her face, looking at the wetness pooled there like it was liquid gold. she smirked, both of her hands hooking around your thighs and pulling them further apart for her, her eyes never leaving yours as her tongue darted out, swiping all the way up your wet cunt.

your head falls back against the door, a whine emmiting from your lips—your hand instantly flying to her hair and pushing her mouth closer onto your needy pussy—to which she almost hiccups from the force of your hand. she props herself up a little further, her hands kneading your thighs slowly as her tongue works on your bundle of nerves, swirling around it, her lips making a pop sound every time they left your pussy for her to take a breath, but after she delved right back in, eating you out like she was a starved woman.

she hungrily darts her tongue into your pulsing hole, dabbing it in and out which caused your thighs to squish her head and a string of moans to fall out your mouth. she let out a hum against your cunt, before slipping her tongue out and her lips leaving too. her eyes left your gleaming pussy, looking up at you through her lashes as she slowly spits, letting her saliva drip down onto, your mouth opening a little with a gasp—before she breaks eye contact and leans back down. her tongue licks all the way up your folds, pushing her tongue back into your aching hole, causing you to grip her hair harder, her thick auburn locks tangled in your fingers. “s—shit! ellie, oh my…fuuuu—“ you choke out, your back arching.

“fuck,” she whimpers against your pussy, her brows furrowing as her own heat was needing attention as she ate you out. your body began shaking as you could feel her warm tongue darting in and out of you, your hand gripping her hair hard, pushing her in closer as you felt your high coming. her eyes flickered closed, knowing you were close. she quickened her pace, dipping in and out of your hole before you jolted, a string of moans falling out your mouth as your cum flowed out onto her tongue.

she looked up at your face covered in pure ecstasy: your head tilted back, mouth agape, brows knitted together, sweat aligning your forehead. you felt her drink up ever last bit of your release before she quickly pulled away, wiping her mouth like she’d just had a good meal, and she undresses her lower half—disgarding her jeans somewhere and slipping her strap on. all before your eyes had even opened yet.

once they finally did open, her hands were already squeezing on your thighs—gripping them hard and flipping your whole body around and forcing you on your hands and knees. you whined slightly, already feeling her press the tip of her cock onto your entrance.

her hands palmed your ass, giving you a light smack which made you jump. “shit, look at you. so beautiful like this.” she whispers, voice low and dripping with seduction. you bit into your bottom lip, not even ready for her when she pushes forward—one of her hands leaving your ass to grip the base of the clear silicone, sliding into you and completely bottoming out. your bows knit together, eyes squeezing shut.

“ohhh! fuuuck, els!” you whine, almost choking out as her cock was already pounding against your spongey spot. her brows also furrowed, her mouth open as she pulls your hips back on her cock, filling you up good. “mmm—good girl. taking me s’well, fuuckk.” she mumbles, but ut came out more as a desperate moan. your hands conveyed to the steam-covered window, leaving handprints.

you thought this was as good as it could ever get, until she leaned forward…her chest completely pressed against your back as she continued pounding into you. the new angle sending shivers through your body as it instantly brought you to the approach of your second high. her teeth found the top of your ear, taking it in her mouth before speaking. “gonna lash out at me like that again, princess? or are you gonna—nghh…behave?” she whimpers, her breath hot on your ear. one of her hands grips the handle on the window, her other curled around your waist as she picks her pace up.

“cum for me, sweet girl. allll over my cock, yeah?” she teases, her voice sounding breathless. your eyes roll back along with your head, almost meeting with her shoulder as you shivered violently, all of her teases and her relentless pace bringing your body into a frenzy. you jolt, your cum shooting out all over her cock as well as the car seat beneath you. “oh my fucking god…ohhh fu—“ you choke out, your entire figure growing limp as she pulls out.

“fuck baby, that was hot.” she whispers. your hands slip off of the window, leaving a streaky handprint as you feel her arms envelop your body, bringing you close. she kisses your hair, letting it linger before you speak. you had no idea what to say about what just happened, so you skipped over that—after all, her actions did all the talking. “sorry i got so mad, my love. i just hope you understand why.” you whisper as you lean into her.

she smiles softly, holding you close. it was comforting. “shh, its okay baby. although, its cute that you’ve moved on so fast. im nowhere near done yet.” she grins, sounding mocking.

the car was a mess, steamy windows, obvious handprints, clothes everywhere.

anyone who drove past—you prayed for their sanity, as well as yours as you awaited arriving home.

taglist: @valeisaslut @elliesfavtoy @ttspenny @ellieswrath @willurms @slutt4ellie @stvrluvrrpres @elliescoochieeater @les4elliewilliams @eveyuyy @starwilliams @eriiwaii @vahnilla @ellieputellas @vampirq @elliesngirl @se4ttlellie @edenspoem

[misaerabl]

RIDING/GRINDING ON ELLIES TITS

spoiler: she cums first!!!

ellie x reader

CW: established relationship, reader riding/grinding on ellies tits, e! cums and r! doesn't (or at least it's not mentioned) ,mentions of readers tits bouncing (doesn't necessarily mean she's supposed to have big boobs?), not proofread

"You want to what?" she asks, her brow furrowing in confusion, staring at you as if you've just made the most outrageous request imaginable.

"Ride your tits"

Ellie blinks, her gaze flickering between you and your words, still hanging in the air. You're perched on the edge of the bed, your lips forming a subtle pout, waiting for her to process it all.

She couldn't quite wrap her head around where this idea had come from. Of course, she'd never deny you anything; she'd move mountains if you asked her to. But... wow, she hadn't realized you harbored these kinds of fantasies.

You two had always been open with each other. She knew how much Ellie adored—no, obsessed with your breasts. But you? Well, that was a different story altogether.

"I mean... I just want to try it, but if you're not into it, I totally get it," you said, your voice soft and sincere. You never wanted to make her feel uncomfortable. But Ellie quickly shook her head, her expression softening.

"It’s not that, babe," she replied, her tone gentle. "I’m just... honestly shocked that you want to try something like this."

"But I really do..." you mumble, your voice soft but determined. You slowly crawl over to her on the bed, where she’s sitting with her back propped up against the headboard. Leaning in, you gently tug at her hoodie, your breath brushing against her ear as you whisper, “I want to ride your tits"

Without much more hesitation, Ellie’s on her back, stretched out across the bed. Her hoodie lies forgotten on the floor, and her undershirt is bunched up enough to reveal her tits.

Her breath hitches as you slip off your underwear and position yourself on top of her. She notices how wet you are. She could’ve sworn it was glistening under the warm glow of the bedside lamp, catching the light just right like it was begging to be touched.

Ellie's eyes widen slightly as she takes in the sight of you, straddling her with your most intimate area just inches from her chest. She swallows hard, her voice barely a whisper, "You're serious about this, aren't you?"

You don't answer, instead you just look down at her and lower yourself.

Her breath catches in her throat as she feels the warm, wet sensation of your clit pressing almost directly onto her nipple. Her hands instinctively move to gently grip your thighs, holding you in place as she looks up at you with lidded eyes.

Ellie's nipples harden beneath you, and she lets out a soft moan, her hips involuntarily bucking slightly. She can feel the heat radiating from your pussy, and it's driving her wild. She swallows hard, trying to find her voice.

Fingers dig into your flesh as she tries to remain still, knowing that any movement on her part could send you both over the edge. "Fuck," she hisses under her breath, her gaze flickering between your face and the contact point between your bodies. "This is insane."

Ellie can feel your breath growing faster and shallower as you slowly shift your hips, trying to find the perfect spot. She can see the beads of sweat forming on your forehead, chuckling slightly at your concentration.

Ellie's eyes roll back slightly as she feels you finally find that perfect spot, your clit grinding down on her hard nipple. She lets out a loud moan, her back arching involuntarily, pushing her chest up further into you. "Shit, right there..."

"Yeah? You like that too?" you ask, breathless, your voice low and a little shaky.

"Fuck yes..." she pants out, her voice thick with desire. She can barely think straight with the way you're riding her tits, you wetness smearing onto her chest. "You're gonna... fuck..." She trails off, losing her train of thought as another moan escapes her lips.

Picking up your pace, your movements growing more desperate as your hands find her arms, gripping them for support—pinning her down gently, but with purpose.

You lean down, your chest hovering just above her face, close enough for her breath to ghost across your skin. Her eyes flicker up to meet yours, wide with something between awe and hunger.

Ellie's eyes flutter closed for a moment as she lets out a deep moan, your movements driving her wild. She can feel your wetness coating her nipple, and the sensation is almost too much to bear. Her hips buck up slightly, meeting your rhythm as she whispers, "Holy fuck..."

Her gaze is firmly locked on your own bouncing tits as you ride her. She watches, mesmerized, as they jiggle and shake just inches from her face. Her mouth waters at the sight, and she can feel her own desire building to an almost unbearable level. "Jesus Christ..."

Suddenly she cries out, her body convulsing beneath you as a powerful orgasm crashes through her. Her pussy clenches around nothing, aching from the intense stimulation received solely from your breasts grinding against hers. Panting heavily, she grips your arms tighter.

“Did you just—?” you ask, breath hitching as your body keeps moving, grinding down without pause. Your voice is soft, airy, nearly lost in the heat between you.

You glance down to meet her eyes. She’s already looking up at you, flushed, chest rising and falling fast. Her fingers tighten around your waist, grounding you—and maybe herself.

She lets out a breathy laugh, barely a whisper. “Y-Yeah.”

A dazed smile pulls at your lips, the haze in your mind making everything feel warm and weightless.

And then, in that small space between heartbeats, Ellie says it—gentle, reverent.

“You’re so pretty.”

[jinxhoe]

my hole it’s pulsing her name in morse code

ellie's breeding strap

summary: ellie tries out the cum filled strap with you for the first time.

content: dommy mommy!ellie, sub!reader, breeding kink, cum filled strap, mention of reader ovulating, begging, praise, one (1) pussy slap, oral (r receiving), strap on sex (r receiving), horndog!ellie, desperate!reader

notes: giggling at how when i started writing this i was like ‘gonna keep this under 1k words!!’

(wc 2.0k)

"baby!" you hear ellie yell out, hearing her tone turn whiny. "are you almost done? come back, please." 

"yeah, i'm getting out now!" you pull the shower curtain open as your pruned fingers wrap around the faucet handle, the pitter-patter of the shower water slowing down to a stop. wet feet sinking into the shag rug just outside the tub, you wrap yourself in your towel and dab your skin dry, securing it under your arms. 

"there you are," ellie says, moving her gaze up from her phone to follow your covered figure as you make your way across the bedroom. her eyes briefly drop to the hem of your towel at your mid-thigh before moving back up to your head. she watches you rummage through the dresser and pull out a pair of clean underwear and one of her folded oversized t-shirts. 

"ugh, i hate showering but i love feeling clean." you place the underwear on the top of the dresser and unfold ellie's shirt to look at the design. without folding it up again, you drop it in the drawer and pull out another one of her shirts, again unfolding it and holding it up to examine it. "my phone says i’m ovulating today. wanna get me pregnant?" you joke, throwing a smile over your shoulder at her to see her head perched up against the headboard and her eyes zeroed in on you. 

"whoa," you shudder while turning your head back to face the shirt again. her gaze was almost predatory, and it made a warm feeling swirl in your stomach. "don't look at me like that." 

"like what?" she mutters, throwing her legs over the edge of the bed to stand up. 

you settle on this shirt and shut the drawer, pivoting to face her. "like that," you say, "like i'm a turkey leg. like you wanna eat me." you say the last part a bit quieter, intimidated by her stalking closer to you. you then become hyperaware of the single layer between your body and her, one that could very easily be discarded. 

ellie finally approaches you, her eyes flicking down to your exposed shoulders and then back up to your eyes. she raises her hand to grab a strand of hair, thumbing the wet lock and twirling it around her finger. 

"you're ovulating today," she echoes lowly, to herself more than to you. pulling her fingers back, she lets the hair fall to your shoulder and watches a drop of water trickle down from it. 

you try to appear unaffected, but your breath can't help but hitch at the cold drop of water falling down, eventually getting soaked up by your towel. 

ellie pushes your hair over your shoulder and wraps her hand around the back of your neck. she draws in and just lets her lips brush over yours, laughing at how you try to chase them as she pulls away a little. 

"oh, no, baby." she pulls your towel out from under where it was secured under your arm and lets it fall to your feet. your nipples immediately tighten at the wave of air and at her presence. you almost whine at how she hasn't looked down at your body yet, her gaze still fixed on your face. 

"get on the bed," she orders. 

your brain was fogged by lust, and you ask her to repeat herself. 

"get" —she steps aside to clear a path for you to lay on the middle of the mattress— "on the bed." 

you slowly walk towards the bed, one shy foot in front of the other, and ellie pushes on your shoulder when you stand about two steps from the bed, making you fold over onto the mattress. your knees slightly touched the floor, but your damp torso was spread across the cold sheets, your body wrapped around the edge of the bed in an "L" shape. 

you feel ellie's warm palms on your shoulders, tracing down your spine and down to your ass where she begins to roughly knead the fat. 

"mmmm," she groans, soaking up the way you squirm under her touch. she kneels down and spreads your ass cheeks to get a clear view of your cunt, puffy and crying for her. 

she presses a firm kiss to your neglected clit, and you jump, surprised by the sudden touch. sticking her tongue out, she licks a long, flat strip up from your clit to your pulsing hole. you push your hips back into her face and whine, chasing the pleasure from her mouth. 

ellie stands back up and harshly slaps your pussy, making you yelp out and close your thighs around her hand. her hand wraps around your left knee and quickly flips you over onto your back, now grabbing both knees and pushing you higher onto the bed by thrusting her hips into yours. 

"ellie," you breathlessly plead, needing more than what she was giving you. 

she climbs onto the bed to kneel in between your spread legs, your bare pussy so close to her clothed one. "yeah, baby?" 

simply whining, you lock your feet around her hips and pull her closer to you, the brief friction of her jeans on your clit making your eyes close. 

ellie drops a hand by your head and leans down to kiss your neck, sucking her way up to your lips into a messy kiss. she moans into it, her other hand trailing down to rub your thigh that was hugging her hips. she moves it down to your weeping cunt, just sliding three fingers up and down to gather your slick. your hips buck at the teasing, and you break the kiss in frustration, throwing your head back onto the sheets. 

"ask me to put my fingers in," ellie says, her eyes locked on yours. 

you lift your head back up to look at her. "i..." you try, but trail off into an embarrassed whine. 

she clicks her tongue. "come on, baby, use your words. i'm not doing it until you ask me." 

"please give me your fingers... inside, please," you murmur lowly and close your eyes, your face warming. ellie lets it slide because she needs this just as much as you, if not more. 

she dips her fingers into you and stops at her last knuckle, letting you adjust to it while her thumb rubs your clit. once you start getting restless, she pulls her fingers out and thrusts them back in, finding the rhythm that makes your moans the loudest. 

your eyes crack open to look at her, her eyes already on your face. "you look prettiest when i have you like this," she says, her eyes dropping down to watch how your pussy swallows her fingers in. 

keeping her fingers pumping inside you, she lowers her face down to your core and latches her lips onto your clit. your hips fly off the bed and you shriek, your hand flying up to your mouth to cover it. the duet of ellie's fingers rubbing your g-spot and her mouth violently sucking on your clit brings you to your climax embarrassingly fast. your hands shoot to her hair, pulling her head into you as you ride out your orgasm.  

ellie pulls her fingers out but continues to lap at you until you grow overstimulated and push her away. she kisses your stomach, then moves up to your lips to kiss them. you moan at how you can taste yourself on her lips, your cunt clenching at the thought. 

"i have something to try, i'll be back. don't let your hands trail down, yeah?" she drops one last kiss on your cheek, standing and making her way to the bathroom. you think about touching yourself while she's gone, but you quickly remember what she said and settle for just rubbing your nipples.  

after about two minutes, the bathroom door opens and out walks ellie with a new strap secured to her hips. she's ditched her shirt and sports bra, but her jeans and boxers are pushed down to her mid-thigh, seemingly just low enough for her to buckle the harness on without getting fully naked. as she walks closer, you examine it more. it's black, a little skinnier than the ones ellie normally uses, but this one is much longer. you notice a small hole at the very tip. 

"it's a breeding strap. remember how we were talking about it?" ellie says, closely watching your face to gauge your reaction. 

your pupils swell with lust, and you forget to verbally respond, instead dumbly nodding while still looking at the strap. 

she chuckles at your response, at your eagerness. "yeah?" 

"yeah," you breathe, opening your legs just slightly to not look so desperate, even though you were. 

ellie settles on the bed on her knees, lifting your legs and placing them on her thighs. she spits down onto the strap, pumping it with her hand to lube it up for you, and the sight makes your stomach tighten. 

rubbing the tip through your folds, she squeezes your thigh in confirmation. "you ready?" 

"yes," you respond breathlessly, your clit throbbing in anticipation. 

she grunts in response, pushing the tip inside. with the strap being skinnier, the stretch isn't too bad. by the time she normally bottoms out with other straps, though, she continues, and you look down in surprise, still seeing a good inch and a half left. the further she pushes in, the lower your jaw drops, a loud moan escaping your mouth once you finally feel her hair tickling your clit. 

"how you doing?" ellie asks, checking in on you. 

"yes, again. do it again." you move your body up so she can pull out faster and thrust in again. 

she smiles at how clearly you're enjoying this, and obeys. this time, she thrusts in quicker, forcing a gurgled whimper out of you. 

"fuck," she exhales. pulling out again, she settles at a faster pace, the tip deliciously prodding your cervix. 

it was clearly one of your more vocal days, your moans and whimpers bouncing off of every surface in the room, the wet slapping of your ass meeting ellie's thighs still audible. ellie only rarely got you so broken down like this so quickly, and she felt that dangerous swirling heat deep in her stomach, the base of the strap pushing on her clit at the perfect angle. 

"so deep," you manage to eke out. 

"i know, baby. so deep. gonna give you my kids, yeah?" her legs began to shake and she was starting to sound strained, telltale signs that she was getting close. she brought her hand in between the two of you to quickly rub your clit, and your moans somehow grow even louder. 

"i'm gonna cum," you basically whisper, unable to form a thought longer than five words. 

"you gonna cum?" ellie echoes and you rapidly nod. "say my name when you do." 

your moans become weak whimpers as you cum. "el- ell- fuck," you try twice and fail to say her name. her orgasm slams into her at how pathetic you sound, and her hand scrambles to squeeze the base of the strap, shooting warm cum deep into your cunt. the tightness in her stomach doubles at the sight of cum leaking out the sides of your pussy, the thought of her seed inside of you enough to make her moan. 

ellie collapses onto you, a twitching and panting mess. you lay lifeless underneath her, trying to regulate everything after a mind-numbing orgasm.  

"jesus fucking christ," she breathes out. 

you loosely throw your arms around ellie's back. "that was so good," you pant. "wanna order in?" 

"in, like, ten minutes. can't pull out yet, i gotta give it time to hold." 

i havent posted in like 2 months i think sorry my kittens. i like never post 2k words tho so stay well fed. also go drink some water bc i always forget

reblogs appreciated :')

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@visupremacysstuff @pieceofabby @distantsapphicdream @faithlehaneirl @n0t-elliewilliams

[cl0udy3]

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄

ellie williams x dina's sister!reader fluff, some angst occasionally i think, slow burn wc: 9616 a/n: first time writing something this long, i had a friend beta read but she didn't see the whole thing so it might need some work near the end but hope its okay for now :D (also this is the first part of the acts, i'll be working on the next one soon, a little busy with class) ✩ pt2 | pt3 (TBA)

She was new.

Not new-new–Ellie had been in Jackson for over a year by the time you really met her--but still new enough that people said her name with a little weight behind it. Joel's girl. The one who came in from the Fireflies. The one who survived.

You'd seen her around. Heard rumors. And honestly? You thought she looked like kind of a dick.

Always glaring. Always muttering. Always pulling her sleeves over her hands like she didn't want to touch the world.

You didn't plan on talking to her.

It just sort of... happened.

You were coming back from a short patrol loop near the creek, boots soaked and mood worse, and you passed by the stables where Ellie sat crouched behind one of the sheds. Knife in one hand. Dead rabbit in the other. Her sleeves were pushed to her elbows, red with blood. Her fingers weren't steady.

You almost kept walking. You probably should've kept walking.

But something about the way she kept slicing and reslicing the same patch of skin made you stop.

"You're gonna ruin the meat," you said.

She froze. Looked up. She had this wild, cornered-animal lookin er eye--like she'd been alone for a long time and didn't like being seen.

"What?"

You pointed. "You're cutting it wrong. Want me to show you?"

Ellie blinked at you like you'd just offered to skin her instead. Then, slowly, she held out the knife.

You stepped forward, knelt down next to her, and slid the blade down cleanly, quick and practiced. You didn't look at her, but you felt her watching.

"You always sneak up on people like that?" she muttered.

You smirked. "You always ruin perfectly good rabbits?"

And then she laughed. Just a huff. Barely there. But it cracked through something all the same.

You handed the knife back. "I'm Y/N."

She hesitated. "Ellie."

"Yeah, I know."

Of course you did. Everyone knew Ellie.

You didn't expect to see her again.

And then, a week later, you were assigned to patrol with her.

She was always with Joel. Or sketching on his front porch. Or slipping through the front gate with blood on her knuckles and a scowl that dared anyone to ask. You'd just seen her around enough to recognize the shape of her, the short temper, the thousand-yard stare she got when she thought no one was looking.

But you didn't speak much after the stables. Not until the morning you were both assigned to patrol.

The day was bleak, but a normal, snowy day in Jackson. 

Maria handed you your slip, eyes already moving to the next person in line. "West loop. You're with Ellie."

You hesitated.

Ellie didn't.

She glanced at you--brief, unreadable--and said, "Cool," like it didn't matter. Like you were just any other name on a page.

You followed her out to the stables in silence. She moved quick, didn't wait up, didn't look back to check if you were behind her. It didn't offend you. You weren't sure she was even capable of small talk.

You saddled your horse quietly. She did the same. Neither of you spoke until you were past the gates and the trees swallowed up the sky.

The snow was light that morning, soft enough to let the horses keep pace without slipping. You didn't say anything for the first twenty minutes. Figured she'd appreciate the quiet.

Then she said, suddenly, like she couldn't help herself. "So. You new, or just quiet?"

You blinked. "I've been here. Just not loud."

Ellie glanced over, eyebrow raised. "You on patrol before?"

"Yeah. Mostly with Tommy or Nora. Sometimes Jesse."

"Damn," she said. "They  really threw me a wild card."

You snorted. "You're not exactly subtle either, y'know."

She didn't answer, but you caught the smirk pulling at her mouth before she turned her head. The first thread of something loosening between you.

The next time either of you spoke, it was after spotting a limping fox slipping between the trees.

"Front left leg," you whispered, pointing. "Injured. Look how it leans."

Ellie followed your gesture. "You got good eyes."

You shrugged. "I get bored easy."

"Bored enough to track limping foxes?"

You glanced at her. "Better than staring at your back the whole ride."

Her laugh was quick and surprised. "Okay. You're kind of funny."

"Only kind of?"

"Don't get cocky."

You didn't say it, but your chest felt warmer all of a sudden. Like something was working its way open. Like maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

Later, when you stopped to check a half collapsed shed for signs of infested, she waved you back with one hand and went in first. Cleared the corners like she'd done it a thousand times. You stepped in after, the air inside stale and cold, and sat on a crate while she double-checked the trapdoor.

"Clear," she said, and plopped down beside you, close enough for your knee to knock. 

Neither of you moved to fix it.

You pulled a half-crushed protein bar from your coat and offered her half. She look at it like it might explode. "That thing's probably older than I am."

"It's either this or whatever weird jerky Maria gave me this morning."

Ellie took it. Ate it. Looked like she regretted every bite.

"You're right," she said. "That was awful."

You smiled. "And yet you still ate it."

"I'm not wasteful."

"Mm. Brave."

She laughed again, this time quieter. The sound stayed with you.

After a while, the cold started to settle in deeper, and neither of you said anything. You just sat there, shoulder to shoulder, breath visible in the air between you.

She looked down at your hands, then her own. "You always this calm out here?"

You shrugged. "I like quiet."

She tilted her head. "That's rare."

You glanced over. "You don't?"

"I do," she said, after a beat. "I just never get to have it with anyone else."

Something tightened in your throat, but you didn't let it show. Just nodded.

"Get we're both a little rare, then."

She looked at you a second too long. Then stood. "C'mon. Still got two markers to check."

The rest of the ride back, the silence felt different. Like a thread had been tugged, something delicate but present, stretching between you with every word you didn't say.

When you got to the gate, she slowed her horse beside yours and said, "You did alright."

You raised a brow. "High praise."

"I mean it."

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Then, "You're not bad yourself."

She nodded. Looked like she wanted to say something else. Didn't.

As you left your horse in the stables again, you watched her walk away, hands in her pockets, shoulders hunched against the wind.

You didn't know what any of it meant. 

But you knew you wanted to ride with her again.

And thanks to some miracle, it wasn't the last time they paired you.

You weren't sure who requested it--if anyone did--but it kept happening. Quiet little loops on the outskirts. Traps. Check-ins. One infected, two at the most. Not much conversation at first, just her voice cutting through the silence when it mattered. "Right side." "Stay back." "You okay?"

Eventually, the silences weren't so sharp. They softened. Turned into something like... habit.

A week passed. Then two.

A third patrol ended later than planned. Snow came down heavy, faster than expected, and by the time you made it back, the sky was nearly black and your hands were numb through your gloves. You didn't go straight home. Neither did she.

Ellie sat with you on the back steps of the weapon shed, both of you still half-geared up. Her knife lay across her lap. You were eating something cold and miserable from your pocket, she was chewing a toothpick she'd found god-knows-where.

"You ever think about leaving?" you asked, after a long stretch of nothing.

She didn't look at you.

"Like... just walking past the perimeter. Seeing what's out there."

Another beat.

"Yeah," she said eventually. "All the time."

You nodded. "But you stay."

She shrugged. "Don't know if I'm supposed to."

"What do you mean?"

Ellie finally looked at you then, eyes darker than usual in the low light. There was something strange in her face. Not sad, not angry. Just tired. Hollow in a way you hadn't noticed before. 

"Sometimes I think I should've died a long time ago."

The words landed like a gut punch. Not dramatic. Not loud. Just matter-of-fact. Like she'd said it before. Like she believed it.

You didn't know what to say.

She was still looking at you, watching for something--maybe judgement, maybe fear--but you just sat there with her. Let the silence stretch.

"Why?" you asked, careful.

She pulled the toothpick from her mouth, rolled it between her fingers.

"Just feels like... I keep walking away from shit other people don't get to."

You swallowed, throat dry. "Maybe that's not a bad thing."

Ellie didn't answer. Just turned her head toward the dark tree line, like she could see past it. Past Jackson. Past all of it.

"Survivor's guilt," you said, quieter. "That's what they call it."

She laughed, but it was a small sound. "That's a dumb name."

"Most things are."

You nudged her knee with yours. She didn't pull away.

After a while, she asked, "Do you ever feel like that?"

You looked down at your hands.

"Not in the same way," you admitted. "But... yeah. Sometimes."

She nodded. Didn't press.

You sat there until the cold soaked through your coats and your bones started to ache. She stood first, offered you a hand, pulled you up without a word.

That night, when you got home, your fingers still tingled where they'd brushed hers.

***

After another quiet patrol, you followed each other to the kitchen for dinner. You don't ask her to sit with you. But she does.

Slides her tray across from yours in the cafeteria and grumbles about the soup like she's always been there. You both eat in silence, your knees occasionally brushing under the table neither of you pulling away.

When you stand to leave, she follows. Doesn't ask. Doesn't even glance up--just tugs her jacket on like it's a habit.

Outside, the sky's streaked with purples and gold, bleeding into the snowy mountains. The air smells like wet bark, like winter giving up.

Ellie kicks a half frozen pile of slush. It splashes your boot.

You side-eye her.

"Oops," she says.

You continue to walk in silence after that, boots squelching in the softening snow. She keeps her hands buried in her pockets, head tilted like she's listening to something you can't hear.

At one point, her shoulder bumps yours--not hard, just enough to make you look. She doesn't apologize. You don't say anything.

The silence is weightless. Safe.

Right before the path splits, she slows.

"Tomorrow?" she asks, voice low.

You nod, almost without thinking. "Tomorrow."

She turns towards Joel's place. You watch her walk for a few steps, like maybe you forgot to say something.

But there's time.

You tell yourself there's always time.

That night, you set your alarm earlier than usual.

You don't know why. You just want to see what her face looks like when she tastes the worst coffee ever made.

The next morning, you find her barely conscious, slouching against the mess hall wall like she spent all night fighting off a bear. Her hoodie's half-on, eyes half-open.

You hand her the mug wordlessly. She takes it like a reflex. 

"What is this?" she croaks.

"Liquid motivation."

She sips. And then freezes. Then winces. "You trying to kill me?"

"It's artisanal," you say, straight-faced. "Crafted with love and desperation."

She glares at you like you've insulted her ancestors. "This tastes like betrayal."

You raise an eyebrow. "Drink it or go back to bed."

She sighs, dramatic as hell, but drinks it. Grimaces the entire time. When the mug's empty, she slams it on the table like it's personally wronged her.

"I'm telling Maria."

"You're welcome."

She rolls her eyes. But when she walks off, she mutters over her shoulder, "Next time I expect a real gift."

You don't forget that.

Two days later, she finds you behind the library, elbows deep in stubborn, frostbitten roots. You're trying to make something out of frozen soil and leftover hope. It isn't going well.

She crouches beside you, not saying anything first.

"Gardening now?" she says eventually.

"You glance at her. "Killing time."

She digs into her pocket and pulls out something small and purple, wilted but not dead. She brushes it off gently and holds it up to you like an offering.

"It reminded me of you."

You blink. "Because I'm beautiful and radiant?"

She gives you a look. "Because you're stubborn. And you grow in places you shouldn't."

You snort. "Wow. Romantic."

She shrugs like she's done her part and stands.

You watch her goes, flower still in your gloved hand, heart thudding for reasons you don't name. 

That night, you press it in your notebook. The petals stain the page.

After that, she starts showing up more.

You try to write it off at first. Jackson's not that big. People cross paths.

But then she's on your patrol shifts. Leaning against fences during training. Sitting in the market like she's waiting for someone--and she always leaves when you do.

One afternoon, you catch her watching you spar with Jesse. She doesn't blink when you spot her. Doesn't look away.

You wipe sweat off your forehead and walk past her without a word. She falls into step beside you like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"You following me?" you ask, half-teasing.

She shrugs. "You're just everywhere."

You don't say anything. Neither does she. But later, when she isn't around, you notice.

It's a week later, late afternoon, when you find Ellie again. 

She's sitting with her back against the barn wall, sketchbook in her lap, pencil smudged against her fingers. Her brows are furrowed, jaw slack, totally focused. The sun hits the side of her face in patches through the warped wooden slats, making her hair look redder than usual, like something burning low and slow.

You don't say anything at first. You just watch her.

Then she notices you.

"What," she mutters, barely looking up, "do I have something on my face?"

"No," you say, smirking. "Just surprised to see you doing something that looks... meditative."

She sticks her tongue out at you and goes back to her sketch. "I meditate all the time."

"Bullshit."

Ellie shrugs. "Fine. But drawing is kind of like meditating. Except when it pisses me off."

You inch closer and tilt your head to peek over her shoulder. "What is it?"

She hesitates for half a second before letting you look.

It's... a tree. Something about is it ethereal. She had somehow managed to capture the essence of the real thing in her drawing. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but it was somehow her.

You stare at it for a long moment. "It's beautiful."

She stiffens. Just slightly. Then shrugs again, like the compliment doesn't mean anything, even though it does.

"Thanks," she says. "You do anything like this?"

You blink. "Like drawing?"

"Yeah. Art. Hobbies. Fun shit."

You pause. "I garden sometimes."

Ellie turns to look at you. "That's it? Gardening?"

"I like it."

"Yeah, so do old people."

You glare. "Thanks."

"I mean, come on. You're telling me you've got nothing else in there?" She gestures vaguely to your head. "No secret skill? No tragic backstory? No like... knife-throwing championship title?"

You hesitate. Then sigh.

"I write."

She perks up. "Like what?"

"Just... stuff."

"Stuff?"

You give her a look. "Poetry."

There's a pause. Not a long one. But just long enough for you to regret saying it.

Then Ellie raises an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah, okay. Laugh."

"I'm not laughing," she says. And she isn't. She's smirking a little, but it's more... curious than mocking. "That's actually kind of cool."

"It's stupid."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Feels personal. And I haven't written anything good in a long time."

Ellie leans back, the corner of her mouth twitching. "You got any of it still?"

You shake your head. "No."

She raises both brows now. "No?"

"I mean... yes. But I'm not showing you."

"Why not?"

"Because you'd make fun of me."

"I just said I wouldn't."

"You lie."

She grins. "Constantly. But not about this."

You look at her then. Really look. She's sitting there, sun in her hair, dirt on her knees, pencil still tucked between her fingers--and she's listening. Not just asking. Not just humoring you.

You're not used to that.

"I don't know," you say finally. "It's dumb."

Ellie opens her mouth like she's going to argue--but doesn't. She just shrugs and flicks her pencil against the paper a few times.

"Whatever. I'm still gonna bully you about it later."

"I'd expect nothing less."

You stay there a while long, talking about nothing, the kind of nothing that fills your chest like it's everything. And when the light starts to dim and your stomach growls and she makes some shitty joke about eating tree bark if the cafeteria runs out of food again, you walk with her. Shoulder to shoulder. Quiet.

That night, you stare at a blank page for twenty minutes before writing a single word. 

And once you start, you can't stop.

You write about the way Ellie walks--fast like she's got somewhere to be, slow when she's next to you. You write about the way she talks, like every word is a dare, like silence is something she hasn't figure out how to live with yet. You write about the way her laugh hits you in the gut, sharp and sudden and rare.

And then, quieter--you write:

I have never wanted to be a place until I met you Now I want to be the ground you rest your boots on.  The window you stare out of. The air that makes you stay.

It's not perfect, or polished, or even good. But it's true.

The next morning, you fold the page three times and slip it into your jacket pocket. Find her near the greenhouse where she always ends up when she thinks no one's watching. She's sitting cross-legged in the dirt, a pencil tucket behind one ear, her sleeves rolled up like spring isn't still pretending to be winter.

You hand her the folded paper without a word.

She doesn't ask what it is. Just unfolds it slowly, her eyes scanning each line, mouth moving just slightly. Reading it out loud in her head.

She doesn't say anything for a long moment. Then she folds it again--smaller this time--and tucks it into her jacket pocket, right over her chest.

"You should write more," she says. 

And you do. 

Because now you have a reason.

***

The next day, she’s gone.

Not in a dramatic way—no patrol assignment, no emergency, no blood trail leading into the trees. Just… gone. No Ellie at breakfast. No Ellie in the usual hallway corner with her boots half-laced and a sarcastic comment on her tongue. Not even a glimpse of her jacket disappearing around a corner.

You tell yourself it’s not a big deal.

She probably overslept. Or went out early. Or just needed space, like she sometimes does—quiet days where she holes up with her sketchbook or disappears into the woods with a bow and a scowl.

But still.

You feel it.

You feel it in the way your steps fall too loud on the gravel.

In the way your breakfast feels longer.

In the way you start listening for a voice that doesn’t come.

You keep catching yourself turning, expecting to find her slouched against a doorway or perched on a fence like a cat, arms crossed, that smug glint in her eye. And every time you don’t see her, something unsettles a little deeper in your ribs.

It’s not until late—near sundown, the sky fading soft orange and bruised lavender—that you notice the shape in your coat pocket. Something light. Hard. Small.

You stop walking.

Reach in.

It’s a cassette tape.

Old. Beat up. The label on the front half-peeled, the ink faded like it’s been thumbed over a dozen times. Someone’s handwriting still clings to it—smudged and slightly tilted.

The Cranberries – Everybody Else Is Doing It, So Why Can’t We?

No note.

No explanation.

Just the music.

You turn it over in your hand, wondering when she even could’ve slipped it in there. Maybe the night before. Maybe at dinner. Maybe while you were talking about something else, your hands too close together on the table, your eyes everywhere but on her.

You don’t even remember telling her you liked The Cranberries.

Maybe you didn’t.

Maybe she just knew.

You ask around quietly until you can borrow an old Walkman from Joel—told him you needed to check on some inventory tapes. He looked skeptical but didn’t press. Just handed it over with a grunt and a warning to rewind it when you’re done.

And then you go. Not far—just behind the greenhouse, where the sun spills in crooked beams through the broken glass and the air smells like mint and tomato vines and damp earth. No one really goes there unless it’s planting season.

It’s quiet.

You sit in the dirt.

You press play.

The first track starts—slow, a little dreamy, a little sad in that way that doesn’t ask for pity. Just wants to be felt.

Your chest aches before the chorus even hits.

By the second song, you’re not blinking as much as you should be.

The third track plays like it knows your name. Like someone cracked your ribs open just enough to slide it in there, leave it humming behind your heart.

It’s dumb. You know that.

It’s just a tape.

Just music.

But this—this is the closest thing to a love letter either of you have ever given. Or maybe received.

And just as the next song clicks in, you hear it:

Boots in the dirt.

Your pulse stutters.

You don’t turn around.

You don’t breathe.

The steps stop behind you.

Then—quietly—Ellie sits down beside you, close enough that the edges of your sleeves catch when the wind shifts. She doesn’t say anything.

You don’t either. Not right away.

The music keeps playing. The Walkman hums gently in your lap. You can feel her, there beside you, like static in your bones.

“This is a weird way to flirt,” you murmur, still staring ahead.

Ellie scoffs under her breath. “I’m not flirting.”

You glance sideways, trying not to smile. “You gave me sad girl music.”

“You said you liked sad girls with guitars.”

A pause.

You’re not sure why you say it, only that it tumbles out before you can stop it.

“I like you.”

It’s not loud. Not dramatic. Just honest.

Ellie blinks. The faintest hitch in her breath. Then she looks away, out toward the greenhouse, lips pressed together like she’s trying not to bite them.

It happens maybe a week later.

You’d just finished helping unload some supplies, arms aching and smelling like old wood and diesel. She found you near the mess hall, hair frizzed from the wind, dirt smudged across her cheek.

“Wanna ditch?” she said, half a smirk on her face, like she already knew your answer.

So you did. Followed her across the back fences, up the rusted fire escape of the old building by the east wall—one of the quietest spots in Jackson. No guards. No foot traffic. Just peeling brick and a half-collapsed roof where the stars come out clearer than anywhere else.

The climb up to the roof wasn’t exactly safe—half-rotted boards, rusted metal rungs, one narrow ledge that made your stomach drop when you looked down. But Ellie had done it before, and when she offered her hand without saying a word, you took it without thinking.

The air up there was colder, sharper. Windy. You pulled your coat tighter and tucked your chin down as you stepped out onto the flat part of the roof, your boots scuffing against gravel and ash. She’d already set up the usual spot—a half-dead blanket she kept hidden in a dry metal box, two dented mugs for whatever sad drink she’d brought, and a lighter with a chipped Firefly logo on the side.

She was sitting with her back to the roof’s edge, legs out in front of her, a blunt already half-rolled between her fingers.

“You ever fall off this thing?” you asked, settling beside her.

She smirked without looking at you. “Once. Broke my ass. Joel was pissed.”

You smiled at that, your gaze trailing out over Jackson. It looked different from up here. Softer. The flickering porch lights. The warm yellow glow from the rec hall windows. Someone had a fire going—you could smell it, faint but smoky, riding the breeze. It made the whole town feel small. Far away.

Ellie sparked the lighter, cupped it in her palm, and lit the blunt like she’d done it a thousand times. Which, honestly, she probably had. She took a slow hit, the ember flaring, her eyes squinting slightly as she exhaled. Then she held it out to you.

You froze.

“C’mon,” she said, brow raised. “Don’t make me smoke the whole thing.”

You looked at it like it might bite you.

“I’ve never—”

“That’s the point,” she said, soft. “First time’s with me.”

Your fingers brushed hers as you took it. You tried not to make a big deal out of it. Tried not to seem like you cared. But your pulse was in your throat.

You took a hit, choked almost instantly, and doubled over coughing.

Ellie just laughed. Loud and mean in that affectionate way she had. “Jesus. You’re such a baby.”

You glared at her between coughs, but your eyes were watering too much to make it effective. “This sucks.”

“No, you suck. Give it back.”

You passed it to her and wiped your mouth with your sleeve, feeling your heartbeat skip a little too fast. After a minute or two, though, the edge of it dulled. Warmth crept up your chest. Your limbs got heavy in a nice way. The town lights started to blur a little.

“Okay,” you murmured, leaning back on your palms. “Maybe not that bad.”

Ellie grinned and took another hit. “Told you.”

Silence settled between you again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just... weightless. Safe.

Your legs dangled off the edge of the roof. Hers did too.

The stars were out—more than usual. Jackson’s lights didn’t reach this far, so the sky looked bigger. Like you could fall into it. Like it might fall into you.

“You ever think about leaving?” she asked suddenly, voice low, rough from smoke and cold and maybe something heavier.

You didn’t answer right away. Just watched your breath curl in front of you.

“Sometimes,” you said. “Not for good. Just... for a while.”

Ellie was quiet for a second. Then:

“Where would you go?”

You shrugged. “Nowhere. Everywhere. Maybe west.”

“West,” she repeated. Not mocking. Just thoughtful.

Then she said it.

“Take me with you.”

You turned to look at her.

But she wasn’t looking at you. She was staring up at the sky again, her profile sharp against the starlight, eyes reflecting nothing.

“I would,” you said.

Too soft. Too fast. It slipped out like it had been waiting at the back of your throat forever.

And she must’ve heard it. Really heard it. Because after a second, she looked over.

And something flickered behind her eyes.

Like maybe she knew.

Like maybe she was about to lean in, just slightly, just enough. Like she felt it too.

But then she blinked.

And whatever was there—it was gone.

She passed the blunt back without a word, eyes already turned away.

You didn’t say anything else.

Just smoked in silence, and told yourself the chill on your skin was from the wind.

Another week passes. 

It’s late when she shows up.

You’re already in pajamas, curled on your bed with a half-read book and the radio whispering something low and folky. Rain taps at the windows, steady as a metronome. Everything smells like wet earth and lavender—you forgot to blow out the candle on your shelf.

There’s a knock.

Soft. Hesitant.

You open the door and she’s standing there, hoodie damp from the walk over, hair pulled back messily, eyes flicking past you like maybe she’s reconsidering.

“You busy?” she asks.

You shake your head. “Nah. Just reading.”

She steps inside.

Drops her boots by the door, shrugs off her hoodie, walks up the stairs to your bedroom and settles herself by the headboard of your bed. Like this is her space too. Her sketchbook is under one arm.

You toss her a blanket. She catches it without looking.

The room is quiet except for the rain and the occasional flip of a page—your book, her sketchpad. You don’t ask what she’s drawing. You’ve stopped asking.

Eventually, you shift. Lay your book on your chest and close your eyes, just for a second.

Just to rest.

You don’t mean to fall asleep.

But you do.

The blankets are warm. The candle burns low. And Ellie is close enough to hear breathing. So you drift.

You’re not sure how long you’re out—twenty minutes? an hour?—but when you stir, it’s still raining. The candle’s gone out. And she’s still sitting there.

Cross-legged on your floor. Sketchbook in her lap. Eyes flicking between the paper and—

You.

You blink. Groggy. Voice scratchy. “Are you… drawing me?”

She looks up.

Doesn’t deny it. Just chews the inside of her cheek, then shrugs. “You make a good subject.”

You roll onto your side, burying your face half into the pillow. “You’re a creep.”

She grins. “You like it.”

You do. God, you do.

You don’t say anything, but your cheeks burn, and that’s answer enough.

She doesn’t leave that night.

She stays until the candle smoke fades and the rain stops and your breath evens out again.

And you don’t even realize she slipped something into your coat pocket until a week later—when you're on patrol, digging for gloves in the early cold.

Your fingers brush paper.

You pull it out.

It’s the sketch.

Charcoal and pencil on torn notebook paper—creased from folding, smudged at the corners. But it’s you. Not just how you look, but how you were. Curled up, soft and half-asleep. Mouth parted. Hands tucked under your chin like you were dreaming of something sweet. Like you weren’t carrying so much.

She made you look kind. Gentle.

Loved.

You stare at it for a long time.

And then fold it back up, press it against your chest like a secret.

Because that’s what it is.

She never mentioned it. Never asked if you saw it.

But sometimes, when you pass her in the mess hall or catch her sharpening her knife outside the barracks, she’ll look at you a little too long.

Like she’s still drawing you.

Like you’re still the most interesting thing she’s ever seen.

She comes by your house again.

It’s late.

Later than either of you meant to stay up. The kind of late where the silence starts to hum. Where the lamps buzz faintly and the edges of everything feel a little blurred.

You’re both on your bed, backs against the wall, legs stretched out, a bowl of stale popcorn between you. Some shitty cassette tape hums low in the background—something folksy and quiet Ellie brought over weeks ago that never made its way back to her place.

You’ve been talking for hours.

Not about anything important. Just… stuff.

“Okay,” she says, voice thick with sleep. “Worst food you ever ate. Go.”

You snort. “The canned tuna Joel tried to make tacos with. That shit was criminal.”

Ellie hums, almost a laugh. Her head tips back against the wall.

You keep going.

“Or—wait—no, the beans at the winter festival last year. They tasted like dirt and broken dreams.”

That makes her grin, but it’s a slow one. Fading around the edges. Her eyes are half-lidded, lashes low. You can see how heavy her body’s getting, the way her shoulders slump just a little more every few minutes. The way her head sways when she laughs too long.

She’s tired. You know she’s tired.

But she doesn’t move to leave.

So you just… keep talking.

Low and rambling now. About dumb things. The book you found in the library about edible weeds. The guy in the stables who swears by talking to horses like they’re people. That time Jesse slipped on ice and pretended he meant to break his ankle because it got him out of patrol.

You feel her shift beside you.

Then a weight.

Slow and soft—her head, slipping down from the wall, finding your shoulder like gravity pulled her there.

You stop mid-sentence.

And don’t move.

Her breath is warm against your collarbone. Steady. Even.

She’s out.

Fully asleep.

You freeze—your whole body electric with stillness, afraid to even breathe. Her weight settles into you, solid and real, like something fragile you’re terrified to disturb. One of her hands brushes your leg, curled loosely like she meant to hold onto something and missed.

And god, you want to kiss her.

Right there, in the quiet. While the music hums and her fingers twitch slightly and she looks so impossibly soft and yours that it hurts.

But you don’t.

You just shift a little, careful, and lean your head against hers. Let your eyes close. Let yourself have this.

Just for now.

You wake up an hour later.

The tape’s stopped.

The popcorn’s cold.

She’s still there.

And she doesn’t move when you reach for the blanket and pull it over both of you.

Just sighs in her sleep.

Like she’s safe here.

Like you are, too.

The hangouts continue—quiet, unspoken, intimate in a way neither of you dares to name.

Two weeks pass.

Normally, you’d be paired with Ellie on patrol. You always were. But the day before, Maria handed out the assignments, and your name landed next to Jesse’s.

You frowned but didn’t argue.

Now, it’s still dark when you show up at the gates. Cold, too—your breath curls in the air like smoke. Gravel crunches beneath your boots as you shift your weight, rubbing your hands together to keep them warm. The town sleeps behind you, quiet and still, the sun not yet bleeding into the sky.

You go through the usual routine. Check your pack—rifle, water, rations, bandages.

Then your fingers close around something unexpected.

A switchblade.

Not yours.

Yours is back home—half-dull and chipped from too many close calls. But this one?

This one’s clean. Balanced. The blade shines faint in the pre-dawn light. The handle’s worn just enough to feel like it belonged to someone else first.

You turn it over.

There, on the hilt, a tiny scratch.

You’ve seen it before.

Ellie’s.

Something twists in your chest.

You glance up—and she’s there. Leaning against the fencepost a few feet away, hoodie half-zipped, hands in her pockets. Watching you.

She nods toward the knife. “Just in case I’m not there to save your ass.”

You try to play it cool, try not to let the heat crawl up your neck. “You worried about me?”

She shrugs. “I don’t like it when people die stupid.”

You grin. Quiet. “I’ll treasure that.”

She pushes off the post and walks past you like it’s nothing. Like she didn’t just give you something you’ll probably sleep next to for the rest of the week.

You tuck the blade into your belt and try not to feel too much.

Jesse shows up a minute later, mid-yawn, chewing on half a protein bar. He clocks the switchblade, then glances at Ellie’s retreating back.

“Well,” he says, smirking. “That wasn’t subtle.”

You blink. “What?”

He nods at the knife. “She give you that?”

“…Maybe.”

Jesse lifts his brows like he already knows the answer. “That’s, like… romantic. In Elliespeak.”

You roll your eyes, though your pulse is still a little too loud. “Shut up.”

He falls in step beside you as you start toward the trail. “I’m just saying. The girl’s stitched you up, lent you her tapes, sketched you—”

“She didn’t sketch me.”

“She did.”

“She just said I was a good subject.”

“She said it with the dumbest look on her face. You’ve got her wrapped around your knife-gifted little finger.”

You shake your head. “It’s not like that.”

Jesse kicks a rock off the path. “Sure. But do you wish it was?”

You don’t answer.

Not because you don’t know.

But because you do.

The day stretches long.

You and Jesse move along the outer edge of Jackson, horses in hand, checking the usual spots. Routine stuff. Peaceful, at first. Too peaceful. The kind of stillness that sets your teeth on edge if you think about it too long.

You make small talk—nothing important. It’s easy with Jesse. It always has been. Comfortable in the way old friendships are.

Just past noon, you make it to the north trail.

The air is crisp, sweet with pine. Hooves clop steadily over damp earth. No broken branches, no overturned tracks. You like patrols like this. Quiet. Familiar. Almost enough to forget what the world’s become.

“Y’know,” Jesse says, breaking the lull, “I was sure Tommy was gonna stick me with the new guy. I’ve got a streak going.”

You smirk. “Guess your luck’s finally turning around.”

“Or maybe he just didn’t want you scaring another recruit off.”

You kick a clump of snow toward him. “I’m delightful.”

“You’re something.”

The rhythm’s easy. The kind that only comes from years of knowing someone. Jesse’s always had a way of grounding you—pulling you back to yourself. Maybe because he never pushes too hard. Maybe because he doesn’t have to.

The trail narrows, and you both dismount. The horses plod behind as you lead them into a hollow—low, sloping, shadows spilling between snow-patched trees. Brown earth peeks through the frost like spring’s trying to fight its way in.

You adjust your pack and walk beside Jesse in silence until he slings his rifle over his shoulder and speaks.

“So,” he says casually. “You and Ellie. That’s… new.”

You don’t meet his eyes. “There’s no ‘me and Ellie.’”

“Right,” he says, dragging the word out. “You’re just attached at the hip for fun. Totally platonic.”

You roll your eyes. “We’re just friends.”

“Uh-huh. And I herd horses because I enjoy the smell.”

You kick a rock off the trail. “What are you getting at?”

Jesse shrugs. “Nothing. Just—you’ve been through a lot. And you seem… lighter, lately. Like something’s finally clicking back into place.”

You don’t respond at first. Just watch the sunlight breaking in fractured beams through the trees.

“It’s not like that,” you say eventually. “She just… gets it. That’s all.”

He gives you a long look, like he’s reading a sentence you didn’t mean to write out loud. “Well. Whatever it is—just don’t screw it up.”

You let out a snort. “Is that the official Jackson policy?”

“That’s the friend policy,” he says, bumping your arm with his elbow. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m being emotionally available.”

“Emotionally available with side-eyes and judgment.”

“It’s a package deal.”

You’re just about to laugh—really laugh—when the sound cuts through the air.

Not sharp. Not loud. Just wrong.

You both freeze.

Then it comes again.

Wet. Guttural. Clicking.

Your hand flies to your belt. Ellie’s switchblade presses into your palm—cold, familiar. Jesse’s already raised his rifle, eyes scanning the trees.

“Shit,” he mutters. “How the hell did one get this close?”

You don’t get the chance to answer.

It crashes from the tree line—snarling, fast, all teeth and rot and bone.

Jesse fires. The shot hits—but the infected doesn’t stop.

Your body moves before your brain catches up. You shove Jesse aside, bring the blade up—

Too late.

It catches your side with a swipe of its claws—white-hot pain ripping through your ribs. You stagger, gasping.

But you’re still standing.

Jesse gets a second shot off.

The clicker drops.

You drop with it.

Your knees hit the ground. Then your side. Blood seeps through your coat, warm and terrifying. You press your hands to the wound, instinctive, useless.

“Fuck,” Jesse breathes, already at your side. “Hey. Hey—look at me. We’ve got this. You’re okay.”

You nod. Try to. The world’s blurring at the edges.

Your horse is still there. So is Jesse’s.

Somehow, he gets you into the saddle. Somehow, you stay upright.

The ride back is a blur—half-shadow, half-pain.

You don’t remember much. Just the thudding of hooves beneath you, the steady burn in your ribs, the way Jesse’s hand stays braced on your back like it could hold you together. You focus on the rhythm of it. One-two. One-two. Like if you keep count, you won’t pass out.

But the world starts pulling sideways anyway. Everything going soft at the edges.

Until it doesn’t.

Until you hear Jesse shouting.

And you lift your head, just barely, and see the gates of Jackson coming into view.

And her.

Ellie.

She’s leaning against the fencepost just beyond the stables, a little crumpled daisy held between her fingers like some stupid inside joke. Her hoodie’s half-zipped, hair tucked behind one ear, eyes scanning the trail like she’s waiting for something—waiting for you.

You see it hit her in real-time.

She straightens. The flower falls. And then she’s running.

“Move!” she yells, shoving past the people near the gates, boots skidding on gravel. “Move—fuck—what happened?”

You’re not even off the horse before her hands are on you.

“She’s losing blood,” Jesse says breathlessly, dismounting fast. “Clicker got her. Not a bite—just a gash, but it’s deep.”

Ellie doesn’t say anything. She just loops your arm over her shoulder and pulls you down from the saddle like you weigh nothing, like panic makes her stronger.

Your knees give. Her grip tightens.

“I’ve got you,” she murmurs. “I’ve got you.”

You try to speak. Maybe say her name. Maybe say sorry. All that comes out is a breath.

Then she’s moving—hauling you through the gates with people scattering out of her way. The infirmary’s not far, but it feels like another lifetime before she’s through the door, barking orders like she owns the place.

“I need a table! Gauze, sutures—now.”

Someone moves to help. She snaps without looking, “Don’t touch her. I’ve got it.”

Jesse’s still behind her, shadowing every step. His face is pale. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to.

Ellie lays you on the table with terrifying gentleness. She’s breathing hard, eyes flicking between your face and your ribs. Her hands hover over your coat before she finally tears it open.

Blood’s already soaked through your shirt.

“Shit,” she breathes. Her voice cracks. “Okay. Okay.”

You want to tell her it’s not that bad, but your body’s gone heavy, useless. Your head lolls to the side, vision doubling. All you can really do is feel the way her hands work—pulling off your shirt, swabbing the wound, pressing down with shaking fingers.

“Ellie,” you rasp, barely above a whisper.

Her head snaps up. “Hey. Hey. Look at me.”

You try. Her face wavers, but you catch enough—her jaw clenched, jaw tight, eyes glassy with something she’s trying very hard not to let fall.

“I’m gonna fix it,” she says. “Okay? You’re not gonna die over some dumb clicker. Not like this.”

She moves fast. Efficient. Her hands shake, but the stitches are clean, tight. You feel every pull of the thread. It grounds you—just enough.

“Almost done,” she says, even though she’s not.

And then, quieter: “Don’t do this again. Please.”

You try to smile. It’s barely there. “You gave me the knife, remember?”

She laughs, breathless, more of a tremble than anything real. “Yeah. So you could not die with it.”

You feel her finishing the last stitch, the bandage going down over your ribs. She tapes it with shaking hands, presses her palm over it like she can will it to heal faster.

You reach out. Fingertips barely graze her wrist.

“Ellie.”

She looks at you.

And this time, she doesn’t hide it. The fear. The ache. All of it.

“I’m okay,” you whisper.

“No,” she says, voice low. “You’re not. But you’re gonna be.”

You try to nod. She leans closer instead—forehead almost brushing yours. Her fingers still wrapped around your wrist like she’s afraid you’ll slip away if she lets go.

And she stays like that. Even when the others finally come in. Even when Jesse’s voice floats from the doorway. Even when everything else starts moving again.

She stays with you.

You don’t remember falling asleep.

One second, Ellie’s bent over you, hands stained with your blood, breath coming fast like she’s been holding it since the gates opened.

The next, it’s quiet.

Dim light filters through the infirmary window. Outside, Jackson murmurs with its usual distant hum—boots on wood, a horse whinnying, someone shouting about feed. Life going on.

But here, in this room, everything’s still.

You blink groggily. Your ribs throb with each breath, the sting of stitches tugging at your skin. Your mouth is dry. Head fuzzy.

Ellie’s in the chair beside your bed.

She’s pulled it close—knees almost touching the mattress. Her hoodie’s half-off one shoulder, sleeves pushed up, knuckles scabbed from where she must’ve scraped them carrying you in.

She’s asleep.

Or close to it.

One hand rests on her thigh, fingers curled like she forgot to relax them. The other is on the edge of the bed, just barely touching yours. Like she meant to hold your hand and changed her mind halfway through.

There’s a smear of your blood on her cheek.

She didn’t clean herself up. Didn’t change. Just sat down and… stayed.

You shift slightly, wincing at the sharp tug under your ribs.

Her eyes open instantly.

She straightens, alert in an instant. “Hey—hey, don’t move too much. You’re still fucked up.”

You try to smile. “Technical term?”

She doesn’t laugh. Just leans forward, elbows on her knees, eyes scanning your face like she’s checking for damage all over again.

“You scared the shit out of me.”

“Jesse got me back.”

Her jaw ticks. “I know. But I should’ve been there.”

“Ellie…”

“No, just—” she sits back, swipes a hand down her face. “I knew something felt off this morning. I fucking knew. And instead of saying something, I gave you a knife and walked away.”

You look down at your belt. The switchblade’s still there, tucked beside your hip.

“You kept it,” she says softly.

You nod. “Didn’t wanna lose it.”

Her expression falters—like maybe she wasn’t expecting that answer.

“Good,” she says after a moment. “It’s yours.”

Silence settles in again. Heavy, but not bad.

Then you whisper, “I thought I was gonna die out there.”

Ellie’s face crumples just slightly. “Don’t say that.”

“But I did. Just for a second.”

She swallows hard, then leans in again. This time she doesn’t stop herself—just reaches out and lets her hand rest over yours. The contact is warm. Solid. A tether.

“You didn’t, though,” she says. “You didn’t. You’re here. With me.”

You don’t say anything. Just turn your hand so your fingers lace with hers.

Her shoulders sag like she’s been holding up too much.

And for a little while, neither of you talk.

You just stay like that. Breathing together. One steady beat at a time.

***

You end up staying with Ellie and Joel.

Not because anyone says you should—but because the night after you’re stitched up, Joel just sort of… picks you up and carries you.

“No point in your tryin’ to do stairs,” he mutters, pretending not to notice the way you bite your lip against the pain. “You’ll be safer with us for a bit.”

Ellie barely lets you get through the door before she’d set up a space on the couch—blankets, pillows, water, one of Joel’s flannels she swears she’s not emotionally attached to but won’t let you give back either.

It’s quieter than you expect.

No big gestures. No fuss.

Just Ellie sitting beside you every night, sketchbook in hand, music playing low from the older speaker she scavenged with Joel forever ago. Sometimes she reads. Sometimes she doodles. Sometimes you talk about nothing at all.

Joel brings you food, and doesn’t say much, but he checks your bandages with a gentleness that makes you wonder how long it’s been since he let himself care like this again.

There’s a comfort in it. A kind of peace you didn’t realize you were missing.

And somewhere in the middle of all that—not loud, not sudden—Ellie starts staying.

She doesn’t go back to her room most nights. Just ends up half-asleep next to you, her feet tucked under your blanket, fingers brushing your arm as she nods off. She doesn’t talk about it. Doesn’t make it a thing. But you start brushing teeth together. You start sharing her hoodies. You start knowing which socks she steals from Joel and which mugs are her favorites.

Days pass like that. Easy. Close. Warmer.

They your birthday comes.

You don’t make a big deal out of it. You never do.

But when you come downstairs that morning, Ellie’s already waiting—leaning against the kitchen counter with something small in her hands.

“Morning, old lady,” she says, grinning. “Made you something.”

You blink. “You made something?”

“Okay, Joel helped. But I did, like most of the thinking part.”

She hands it over—it’s a little carved figure. A horse. A little lopsided, a little burnt on one side,  but clearly painstakingly made. Yours.

You don’t even know what to say. So you just hug her.

***

The kitchen smells like spice cake and melting wax. 

You lean against the counter, picking at the edge of the plate in front of you while Ellie wrestles with a crooked candle in the middle of the cake she somehow baked without setting the house on fire. There’s flour on her cheek and a smudge of chocolate near her thumb. She hasn’t noticed either.

“You’re gonna burn the house down with that thing.” you say, nudging a second matchbox toward her.

She shoots you a look. “I’m being careful.”

“You’re being stubborn.”

“Same thing.”

You smile despite yourself watching her fuss over the tiny, flickering candle like it matters more than anything else in the world. It kind of does.

The party’s supposed to start soon—Jesse and Dina are bringing the drinks, Joel and Tommy said they’d stop by. You’re not sure how everyone managed to organize it without tipping you off, but Ellie’s never been good at hiding when she's planning something. Her nervous energy practically buzzes through the room.

“Hey,” so say after a beat, quieter now. “Can I tell you something?”

She looks up immediately, all that snark draining out of her expression like a switch flipped. “Yeah. Always.”

You shift, eyes on the candle. “I’ve just been thinking a lot. After… everything. With the attack. Getting patched up. Lying around Joel’s house like a lump for a week.”

“You weren’t a lump,” she mutters. 

“Kind of was.” You smile, but then it fades. “You didn’t have to take care of me like that. My sister could’ve stayed to help me. But you did. You and Joel. And I don’t know if I ever really said thank you.”

Ellie’s face softens. She shakes her head. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“I think I do,” you say, voice catching a little. “Because it mattered. More than I know how to explain.”

There’s a pause. Ellie watches you like she’s afraid you might vanish if she blinks too hard.

You open your mouth. The rest is right there—on your tongue, ready to tumble out. I care about you. I think I’ve cared for a while. I feel safer when you’re around. Like I’m breathing easier.

You want to say something. You almost do.

The words get stuck behind your teeth, caught somewhere between the fear of saying too much and the fear of saying nothing at all.

Ellie turns back to the counter, and grabs the cake, fixing the candles like it matters.

“C’mon,” she says, voice softer now. “Everyone’s waiting.”

You follow her out of the kitchen, holding the screen door open for her as she walks out, cake in hand. 

“You sure you won’t trip on the way over?” you murmur as you walk down the steps of Joel’s porch.

Ellie huffs a sarcastic laugh and rolls her eyes. “I’ll manage.”

At your house, the lights are low, the music’s soft, and the air inside smells like smoke, cake, and someone's overly enthusiastic cologne (probably Jesse).

Jesse’s already halfway through a drink, deep in a dramatic retelling of some patrol disaster to Tommy and Joel, who are both pretending not to bed amused. A few of your other friends are clustered near the record player, arguing over what to play next.

You settle carefully onto the couch, back against the cushions with a sigh that’s half relief, half ache. The stitches still tug a little when you breathe too deep. Ellie’s only a few steps away, fussing with the drinks she brought out, her flicking to you now and then like she’s making sure you haven't collapsed when she wasn’t looking.

There’s a knock at the door.

You move like you’re going to stand, out of instinct more than anything—but the pull in your side flares sharp and immediate. You wince, halfway up. 

“Hey,” Ellie says, already stepping toward you. “Sit. I got it.”

You sink back down, grateful.

She crosses the room, pulling open the front door—and then pauses.

The girl on the other side of the door is bundled in a jacket and holding a lopsided little box, curls tucked messily into her beanie. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold. She looks up—her smile blooms, crooked and immediate.

“Hey,” the girl says. “I’m looking for—uh, sorry. I’m Dina.” 

Ellie blinks. “...Oh.”

They look at each other for a second too long. 

Not awkward. Not confused. 

Just—still.

Like they’ve both just walked into something unexpected and kind of strange and kind of… good.

You hear her voice from where you’re sitting, and your heart lifts without thinking. 

You push up from the couch, ignoring the way your ribs bark in protest. 

“D?” 

Dina steps around Ellie just in time to catch you coming down the hall. Her face lights up.

“Shit—look at you,” she says, half-laughing, half-crying as she pulls you into a hug. “You dumbass.”

“I missed you too,” you murmur into her shoulder. She smells like cedar and rain.

You’re aware—just barely—of Ellie still by the door. 

She hasn’t moved. Still watching. Still quiet. 

Dina pulls back, brushing her knuckle under her eye with a laugh. “Sorry, I got held up. Patrol’s been hell. But I brought your favorite cake.”

You glance at the box, then at Ellie.

“This is Ellie,” you say.

Dina turns—and for the first time, really looks.

Ellie gives her a small, lopsided smile. “Hey.”

Dina matches it. “Hey.”

It's nothing, on the surface. Just a hello. Just a new face.

But there’s a flicker between them—quickly, subtle, almost unnoticeable if you weren’t standing right there. A glance that lingers just long enough to feel different. 

You feel it before you understand it. A change. 

Like something small just clicked into place.

You don’t know what it means yet, so for now, you pretend not to notice.

You’re curled on the couch now, Dina beside you, a blanket thrown over both your legs like old times. She’s half-talking, half-scolding—about how she would’ve never let you go out on patrol if she’d been around, how you're lucky she loves you too much to throttle you.

You grin through it. Let her fuss. Let her care.

“I swear,” she’s saying, hand on your arm, “you attract trouble like it's a job. Is that a Jackson patrol requirement now? ‘Must be proficient in chaos’?”

“First of all,” you say, nudging her lightly, “I’m very responsible. Mostly. Jesse was there too, y’know.”

“Yeah, and Jesse didn’t get ripped open, so.”

Behind you, Ellie makes a sound—almost a laugh, but sharper. You glance over your shoulder.

She’s leaning against the wall now, arms crossed, listening in.

“Pretty sure she got the knife after the rip,” Ellie says. “Not exactly her best moment.”

Dina grins. “So, you’re Ellie.”

Ellie raises a brow. “Me?”

“Well,” Dina says, “you’re the only person I’ve heard about more than twice in every letter.”

You feel your face heat. “Dina.”

“What? I’m just saying. Ellie this, Ellie that. Ellie drew me, Ellie saved my ass, Ellie made me soup—”

Ellie’s mouth twitches. “It was bad soup.”

Dina laughs, and it’s easy and bright. “I feel like I should be jealous.”

“Maybe you should be,” Ellie fires back, and it comes out fast, almost automatic.

There's a second of silence.

Then Dina laughs again, brushing it off. “Alright, soup queen. Duly noted.”

It’s a short exchange. Barely anything, really.

But something about it sticks with you. The way Dina’s posture shifts slightly toward Ellie, open and relaxed. The way Ellie—who usually hesitates with strangers—doesn’t, not this time.

You shake it off. You’re overthinking. It’s just your two favorite people finally meeting. It should feel good.

And it does.

Mostly.

this was so long but i needed to write it so bad AHH

[ellieabbyy]

[valeisaslut]

can we get some more background on collide’s ellie before the story started? lowkey curious about her groupie days hahaha

THANK YOU GORG NONNIE I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO WRITE THIS. TURN IT UPPPP

Rockstar!ellie williams’ life before you came crashing into it was already wild in its own right. the fireflies started as this messy little project in high school, just three angsty teenagers skipping class to rehearse in jesse’s garage and dream too big. but from the very beginning, ellie had that thing. that frontwoman energy. raw, magnetic, loud when she wanted to be and quiet in the moments that mattered.

of course, being joel miller’s daughter didn’t hurt either. the joel miller—rock legend, guitarist god, literal music royalty. she grew up with guitars in every corner of the house, got her first custom pedal at twelve, and was getting dropped off at school in a vintage mustang with the windows down and her dad blasting nirvana like he wasn’t a whole icon. people were paying attention before she even opened her mouth.

their debut album dropped when she was barely nineteen and it exploded. like, charts on fire, critics losing their minds, fans already tattooing lyrics on their ribs kind of explosion. it was rough and loud and painfully honest, and people ate it up. suddenly the fireflies were everywhere—magazine covers, award shows, late night interviews where ellie would always roll her eyes and let dina do the talking.

and ellie? ellie was living like a rockstar. full-speed. full-chaos. she had girls lined up at every venue, backstage passes tucked into her back pocket like candy. groupies every night, different cities, different names she couldn’t remember in the morning. she wasn’t cruel about it, just detached. like she knew how to give people a night they’d remember forever, while she forgot it the second it was over.

there were stories, obviously. ellie williams didn’t just flirt with the whole sex-drugs-rock-and-roll lifestyle—she practically rebranded it.

like the time in chicago, where she went MIA a few hours before the show and no one could find her. security was panicking, dina was pacing, and jesse was one call away from having a heart attack—until ellie strolled into the venue ten minutes before set time, lipstick smudged all over her jaw, reeking of tequila and weed, with three girls trailing behind her like she was the messiah of sex. she still performed like nothing happened, of course. even signed a bra on stage mid-song.

or berlin, when she stopped the show halfway through, locked eyes with a girl in the front row who looked like she’d been crying, and straight-up jumped off stage. mic still in hand, she kissed her so hard it made at least 20 headlines. she never got her name, but later admitted in an interview that it was one of the best kisses of her life.

and then there was that rooftop in LA—the infamous afterparty for some alt girlband’s tour finale. ellie was already drunk, half in her underwear, making out with the rival band’s lead singer against a glass wall while their drummer tried to politely look away. jesse swears he walked in on her mid-threesome in the guest bedroom later that night, but ellie still denies it to this day. kinda.

there was one show—vegas, obviously—where ellie walked off stage with nearly twenty bras and at least ten pairs of panties stuffed into her mic stand, draped over her guitar, even hanging off her boot somehow. halfway through the set, it basically turned into a lingerie rainstorm. she played through it like a pro, flashing that smug little grin every time another piece hit the stage, only pausing once to pick up a red lace thong, twirl it around her finger, and go, “if you want it back, you’re gonna have to come get it yourself.” the crowd lost it.

dina joked that they could open a lingerie store with all the stuff ellie got that night. ellie just shrugged, grinning, and said, “what can i say? i’m a woman of the people.”

it was a mess, but it was her mess. untouchable, unstoppable, with this cocky grin and a body count that would make most people faint. music was her religion and girls were her favorite sin.

but all of that changed when you showed up. not right away—ellie was too stubborn for that. but eventually, the chaos started to feel a little quieter. the noise started to mean something. and for the first time, ellie started thinking less about the next city, and more about who she wanted waiting for her when the lights went down.

[yournightmary]

Jackson!Ellie HCs

content warning: short, in my head Joel and Ellie are okay and nothing bad ever happened

AN: I can’t sleep and I feel bad about not posting and I hate my layout and I’m gonna crash out what the fuck.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ jackson!Ellie who is the town’s most infamous nerd. like, everyone knows her (mostly because of Joel) and that she’s a little… different.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ jackson!Ellie who rolls her eyes and shows the middle finger to everyone once they turn their back to her. or mocks them by mouthing their words.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ jackson!Ellie who feels bad about using up too much of the town’s resources, especially electricity. if the moon is bright enough she won’t even use candles, since they’re limited too, duh.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ jackson!Ellie who never picks up new clothes or gives away her old ones. she’s gonna wear a shirt until it’s literally disintegrating in her hands. but, that doesn’t mean she has little clothes- quite the opposite. she has a shit load (at least for apocalyptic standards), but almost all of her shirts and pants look the same.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ jackson!Ellie who would rather eat the ingredients than to cook a meal. she has things for some kind of stew? she’ll just eat the vegetables raw and prepare the meat in a way that requires the less effort.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ jackson!Ellie who wonders if she could infect someone by biting them- or make them immune. usually when she’s high.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ jackson!Ellie who’s annoyed by all the dead cars around Jackson and wishes she could just pick them up and throw them away.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ jackson!Ellie who wants to give you stuff she finds on patrol, but she had a nightmare about bringing the cordyceps inside the walls on some silly little trinket and infecting the whole town with it.

⇢ ˗ˏˋjackson!Ellie who’s one of the most hardworking teens/young adults in the whole town. like, others have to literally force her to take a break.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ jackson!Ellie who has eyesight issues but will never wear glasses. not that they’re easy to get or anything, but if there was a possibility- she wouldn’t take them.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ jackson!Ellie who comes over to Joel’s house and annoys him like a kid. and definitely steals DVDs and books from him.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ jackson!Ellie who constantly asks you to move in with her. I mean, come on- how is she supposed not to?

⇢ ˗ˏˋ jackson!Ellie who cleans her room/house/whatever you wanna call it only when someone comes over. it’s not that she’s messy or anything, she just feels more comfortable when there’s a little clutter around.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ jackson!Ellie who has a whole notebook filled with poems for you/about you that she hides like some deepest, darkest secret.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ jackson!Ellie who learned how to make friendship bracelets at some kind of town fair and made you a ton (she gets mad when you’re not wearing every single one (but she won’t actually tell you))

⇢ ˗ˏˋ jackson!Ellie who took after Joel and got into woodcarving. definitely makes silly little sculptures for you and then turns painting them into dates.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ jackson!Ellie who records herself playing guitar on a cassette and gifts it to you. almost recorded over the Apollo 11 tape she got from Joel once and made herself a promise to always double check.

i hate this

[elliewill]

takin' what's not yours.

ALMOST LOVERS. so close, but not quite. ellie sends you a note that might rekindle what you nearly had.

word count: 4.9k warnings: nsfw mdni, infidelity, secretive behavior, pussy-eating, strapon r!receiving, messy tribbing, vague description of squirting tags: ex-bestfriends with benefits. long term homoerotic secret-third-thing. forbidden. a playful fuck born of yearning.

ELLIE HAD BEEN looking down at her third mixed drink when her stomach lurched at the thought of having to finish it. She never liked vodka. She wasn’t sure why she even chose it to begin with.

“I missed you,” Ellie said, setting her drink down on her coffee table, fiddling with the coaster her drink sat on. 

It was a childish thing to say. Childish, naïve, maybe even teetering on reckless. Ellie couldn’t help herself; it was nothing she hadn’t said before, although circumstances now would imply heavier consequences. 

You returned to an acquaintance of Ellie’s. A quiet awareness of each other, clearing paths to avoid regrettable collision. You repelled each other’s pull to orbit with nothing but sheer will and an intense fear of embarrassment.

An acquaintance, sure. But what did that mean when you’ve known the exact way in which the lines of Ellie’s neck join her collarbones, her shoulders? When Ellie had etched in her mind the way your silhouette takes its shape against the natural light while you’re sound asleep, nothing but a beautifully sun-drenched figure? 

It didn’t mean much at all, apparently. Her sheets have always held your scent — but it’d been six months too long since you’d been in her sheets anyway. Although that side of the bed wasn’t yours. And never had been. In fact, it was someone else’s now.

Still, you were no stranger. But Ellie had been bolder. And she’d been responsible for far more reckless things. 

So have you.

C’mon. Say it.

“I… missed you too.” 

The words ran from your mouth in a long breath; you were unsure whether the confession was intentional or by accident, but the words hung in the air now. She heard it. And you wrung your hands a bit, trying your best to bluff, still uncertain of what game she sought to play. 

She wouldn’t let you catch her eyes, and whether that choice of hers was sheepish or cocky, you couldn’t tell.

It would be too brave of you, too bold, to express what you’d really thought. Right? Wasn’t it? 

A swirling nostalgia settled in your stomach, and you played with the idea of drinking its temptation in full. Among the inside jokes stashed in between the couch cushions you sat on, you could probably still find one or two popcorn kernels lodged in there, too.

Could you maybe eat like a normal person? The movie’s not that scary, El.

Ha. Pshhh, I’m not scared. I’m just saving those for later. Obviously.

This was just a friendly, strictly-platonic get-together for two, just as you had done so many times before. You and your best friend had always been tightly knit – sewn, if you were being honest – until seams all but unraveled just a few months ago. You both found new ways to occupy your time, new hands to hold, new lips to kiss. More time to make for someone else.

And yet, that corny envelope and handwritten note still somehow slipped underneath your door earlier that day. Come over for some drinks? If you want. Definitely don’t have to if you don’t want to. Dina’s at Jesse’s for the night, if that means anything.

If that means anything.

“It’s okay that you’re with her, by the way." 

Attempting to save both you and herself from the silence, Ellie’s heart had spoken through gritted teeth, although her lips made sure the words rang polite. A small sigh of relief escaped her lips when she realized she wouldn’t have to hear you backtrack.

She peeled the coaster out from beneath her drink and leaned over to grab your third drink, watching the condensation pool beneath the empty glass of ice. You swallowed the words as hard as you tried to untangle them. And the thought of Dina caught and hung itself like an anchor in your stomach. 

Dina was good for Ellie. And to save face, you’ve mustered the courage to say that your new lover was good for you, too. No matter the words exchanged in quiet – those were lovers’ quarrels and you always made up. The nights spent alone meant nothing, that was just how she coped. And forget the comments, they were funny! Even you laughed. Right? This was good. Why wouldn’t it be okay? Of course, it was okay. You and Ellie had only ever been friends. Or something like that.

“Whew!” You sarcastically pretended to wipe away sweat above your brow. After pressing your lips together in an attempt to conceal a smirk, you continued, “Fuck, I’m so relieved I have the Ellie stamp-of-approval. God, what would I have done without it?”

“Oh, shut up," Ellie laughed and rolled her hazel-green eyes at you, lips parting to reveal a crooked smile. Just a playful nudge at your arm with her freckled nose all wrinkled, and a flame ripped across your chest and crept toward your neck. "I was just being nice."

You broke the ice – the way you wanted it to be broken. Lighthearted, good-natured, casual. Maybe there was a twinge of something else – and of course there was, there’d always been something else  –  something sweet and tender and so poorly developed and fragile that maybe it was best that it never touched the surface. Although, maybe now, buzzed and lacking inhibition, it didn’t seem so bad to let it breathe.

“Okay, and? So was I.” You nudged her back, the nostalgia feeling bittersweet and overdue. “I can still kick your ass, y’know.”

“You wanna bet?” Ellie’s eyebrows perked up at you as she jokingly raised her fists, cartoonishly winding up a punch. Frequently, you used to find yourself at the receiving end of Ellie’s goofy shadowboxing. Few others have had the privilege of being her victim. “Put ‘em up.”

“Careful, nerd. Might hurt yourself,” you replied, feigning a lack of amusement. 

You slapped her lazy fist downward and something reeled inside Ellie’s gut. A knot formed in her stomach, being reminded of how long it’s been since you’ve touched her hands. But the inner corners of her mouth creased into a bashful smile anyway. She had finally let you catch her eyes. And for a moment, you forgot the circumstances. It seemed as though Ellie did, too.

“Do you ever miss this?”

Ellie’s gaze lingered. Maybe just a bit too long. Heat tore across your ears, and you tried your best to ignore the burn.

  “Miss what? Being challenged to kick your ass?” you defused. This was supposed to be lighthearted, casual… harmless. It was harmless. 

“Ha-haaa. Very funny.” You caught an eye-roll from the Savage Starlight card collector. “Y’know what I meant.”

“Being friends?”

“I mean, yeah, sure. Something like that,” Ellie uttered, unsure but settling for what left her lips. She shrugged, shy eyes downcast toward her fingers.

“I do miss it, yeah,” you admitted. Ellie struggled to contain her buzz at your confession. You returned a shrug, swallowing the urge to place blame. It had never been anyone’s fault. You had simply grown apart – friends do that sometimes, don’t they? 

“Don’t know why it’s been so long. Just… busy I guess,” Ellie muttered, almost embarrassedly. She was the one who stopped calling, she’s sure. Patrols were just…coincidentally reassigned, too. To make things less awkward between you both, obviously.

And busy had a name. You didn’t feel like your Busy was worth mentioning. But for Ellie, it was always Dina. 

Her name hung in your mouth and Ellie's eyes softened, a quiet understanding passing between the two of you.

“So…” you sighed, debating on continuing. “How are things with Dina?”

“It’s been… really great. She’s great.” Ellie compulsively finished the rest of her drink to avoid elaborating further. It had been proving difficult trying to remind herself that when it’s good, it’s great with Dina – and that it was something worth waiting it out for. And mind often wandered so far as to ask whether it had to be this way at all.

Relationships don’t always need sex for it to survive, right? What are the odds of sex life flatlining shortly after making it official? Was it just her libido? Perhaps lesbian bed-death, or something. People grow out of it, the freezing-out thaws, and all that, she guessed. But the guilt in Ellie’s chest burned up the words that never left her mouth. She hoped that with each breath thereafter, smoke wouldn’t curl out from between her lips.

“But… she doesn’t find your corny puns funny either?”

“Well, I know it breaks your heart, but she does, in fact, find my puns funny,” Ellie lectured in between laughter, with arms crossed and her warm buzz to blame for the half-lidded gaze.

“She’s still in the honeymoon phase, huh?” The sarcasm threaded your motion, slowly nodding at Ellie, hoping to win another laugh from her.

“I dunno. It’s just not the same y’know?” 

You tensed. You brought your hands down to your lap when you began biting the inside of your cheek. Of course you knew.

“It’s not the same as what?” 

You attempted to jump ship anyway. Lest you reveal something you didn’t want Ellie to know.

“Like how we used to be.”

“As friends?” 

Or something like that, right?

“I mean, friends don’t really kiss friends.”

Right.

The urge to bristle at the comment was hard to fight. You weren’t the one to have kissed her first; she started it back then. But the guilt slithered into your gut and gnawed at you, knowing that you always wished you had kissed her first, anyway.

“Sometimes they do. And maybe it’s that simple,” you said a little too defensively, knowing how Dina and Ellie got together. You didn’t mean for it to come out so brash, but you blamed it on the alcohol crippling your self-awareness and its accompanying filter.

“I mean – c’mon – don’t you wanna talk about it?” Ellie quibbled. “Or would you rather keep pretending that nothing ever happened?”

“Nothing did happen, Ellie.”

You prayed that the next words out of Ellie’s mouth wouldn’t be “Friends don’t fuck friends, either.” Because if they had been, you’d have to spend the next few minutes waiting for the hungry ache between your legs to subside; you know that your nameless Busy could never fuck you the way Ellie did.

“We both know that’s not true,” Ellie teased and leaned in toward you, holding back a scoff. You would’ve called it a laugh if you had been sober.

“Hooking up never meant anything, El. We were just friends, and you’re with Dina now. Don’t fuck this up for yourself,” you chided.

There was still time to leave. To walk away from whatever hot, tempting mess was awaiting you on Ellie’s couch. It was an old dance, a familiar one, whose steps had been memorized by your soles. 

It started with something harmless. Innocent touches. Friendly ones. Then, a peck. Something like kisses littered along a collarbone. Until, eventually, legs were hoisted over shoulders, faces buried in between thighs and hands with a mean grip on hair. 

It was inconsequential fun back then. It was forbidden now. And for some reason, the thought of getting fucked into a bed by Ellie, who didn’t belong to you, made your cunt slick.

“Did you know why I kissed you back then?” Ellie’s voice was soft, quiet. But there was a challenge there. Her words dripped with a dare.

“Cause you had a big, fat crush?” You leaned in the way she did, taunting her with a drunken smirk. Your faces were only inches from each other’s now, the vodka on her breath strong and the mutual desperation stronger.

“What if I said that I still do?” 

Ellie’s eyes flicked between your lips and your eyes, clearly distracted by a twinge between her thighs. When was the last time your mouths have been so close? She swore that her fingertips could recall the hills and valleys of your figure. Maybe she could try tracing them along your skin again, just to test herself. Just to say she could. C’mon. Maybe.

“I would say that you’re drunk. And fucking insane,” you quipped, unable to help the laugh that escaped your lips – low and breathless. 

“Nothing else?” 

Every time she spoke, all the clear, hard lines that kept you two apart suddenly looked softer, blurrier – like someone had been rubbing out the edges. They looked wobbly, jagged, faded, as if someone drew them with a hand that couldn’t quite steady itself. Everything felt a little more fluid, a little more bendable, a little less… consequential.

God, the stakes were high and the rewards even better. One wrong breath and you could win her or lose her. You were always good at bluffing but had a bad habit of throwing out your cards. What then? What’s next? Fold, right? It’s always been a fold, baby. You never wanted the pot that bad anyway, did you?

“And that you’re a nerd.” “Oucchhhh.” 

Ellie feigned anguish with a cocky smile, whilst pretending to drive a dagger through her heart. 

Your conscience held itself in silence as soon as you watched her eyebrows pinch at the center. It’s almost exactly the way you remembered. When she’d look down at you, face between her legs. When you used to glide your tongue through her folds, making slow, soft circles around her clit.

There had suddenly been just too much fucking saliva in your mouth while looking at her like that. You began to believe that the spit in your mouth could be used for far more useful things than moistening your mouth. Both of you exchanged a fleeting look. A knowing one. A thirsty one.

You slowly leaned in to kiss her gently, pulling away to scan her face for any sign of regret, resentment – or satisfaction.

She didn’t wear surprise on her features. Her eyes had darkened, something hypnotic and fucking carnal behind pupils blown. The small victory set your body alight. And a discreet, sin-free, mouth-watering desire had been fulfilled. It was a peck. Just to test the waters. An innocent thing. 

The tug just below Ellie’s happy-trail disagreed. 

You both moved to brazenly close the distance, rushing to get up and get your hands on each other – to clumsily and carelessly make your way toward the bed that you missed so much. Your hands held the side of her face as her lips continued to crash into yours. She brought a hand to the side of your neck, a thumb grazing your cheek, the exact way she used to make you melt. It was sweet, it was missed, it was never supposed to be innocent. It was born of desperation. 

And it was fucking sloppy.

Miraculously, you two had found the bed – which, to be honest, is no miracle since this felt like ritual – and she pinned you down onto it. You slid up further into the sheets, your body buzzing at the way Ellie groped you. You clawed at her shirt, pathetically pulling her closer. A soft whine crept from your throat when her lips left yours, a string of saliva stretching between your mouths. Gravity broke the string; the warm spit dribbled down your chin.

You laid there, looking up at Ellie, whose hands have already undone a bra, while she feasted her eyes upon your neck like it was her next meal. Ellie had always been one to admire you, but there simply was no time to fuckin’ waste. 

Her right hand found your neck, nimble fingers closing around your throat and squeezing a breathy yelp from you. Her left hand found a handful of your soft tits, her palm skimming over your hard nipples and fighting the urge to grab any harder than she was. But before she could decide to rough you up any further, her lips and tongue met the skin on your neck, leaving a trail of painful and wet kisses.

It was so quick, born of something so pent-up, secret, uncontrollable. You loved that she didn’t give you a moment to think. The moans that involuntarily escaped your lips were half-formed, broken, breathy. Your thoughts weren’t that much different.

“Shit,” you managed to croak out, realizing that she had been leaving love bites. “C’mon, El. I don’t… don’t have a way to fuckin’ cover them.”

“Good,” Ellie huffed between half-kisses, before decisively bringing her teeth down hard on your neck, purposely ignorant to your wishes. A sharp inhale through your teeth settled into a helpless moan in your mouth. “Means I get to keep you. Right, baby?”

Baby. She called you baby. Something in your chest tightened, like heartstrings suddenly tangled. You’d question whether she meant that if you were sober. But the buzzing in your body from the gin denied the need for proof. Your proof was right there. Ellie’s tongue on your neck softened anxiety’s edges for you and your nerves remained partially blunted to the panic of being called her baby. 

“Mhm,” you sighed, nodding a bit sporadically, clearly melting. You searched for her hands with yours and dragged them down toward that deliciously painful ache in your pussy. “Fuck, please touch me, El, please.”

Ellie’s fingers dug into the hems of your shirt and her hands scrambled to pull it up and over your head. She brought her soft, pink lips to your chest, leaving kisses, sneaking bites and trailing her tongue down to your hard nipples. Ellie drew a plea from your lips, and she was about to do it again. All while her hands had worked themselves to the button and zipper of your jeans. And once she got those down – her own.

Your eyes lavished the sight of Ellie’s pretty thighs. Pretty, soft, flecked with freckles. The perfect place to put your head between. Goosebumps had strewn themselves across your skin. And your pretty friend’s warm hand over your cunt didn’t help.

“So you must’ve really missed me, huh,” she teased, running a finger over an obnoxiously wet spot of your underwear. You flushed at the soft brush of her finger, your blood red-hot underneath your skin. Afraid that she’d draw away her hand to tease you further, you gripped her forearm and pressed it against the heat between your legs. Your eyes locked.

“Gotta check to make sure, right?” You tilted your hips toward her, your words edging on a dare. And you had always known Ellie to be far too stubborn to turn one down. 

In silent agreement, her left hand peels your panties toward the side, her right middle and ring finger slipping easily into your dripping cunt and thumb gently landing on your throbbing clit. 

“Sh-Shit,” you moaned, licking your lips shortly after. With eyelids low, you reached for your tits, as if something feral stirred in your gut at the feeling of being filled by Ellie’s fingers. You fervently imagined what her tongue would feel like filling up your pussy; it had been too long ago to recall.

Your eyes followed her movement in hungry anticipation. She lowered her face to your middle, fingers sliding out to spread the lips of your cunt. What a fuckin’ tease.

She ran her tongue through your folds, eager to earn another pretty sound from you. And she did. Bottom to top, the tip of her tongue caught and spread the slick over your clit, and you couldn’t help but groan in greed. More. You wanted more. 

Ellie delivered — with a warm, wet tongue that slid into your pussy. 

“Goddd, fuck, El. Feels so, f-fuckin’ — good,” you whimpered pathetically. “S-so fuckin’ deep in my cunt.”  Like second nature, your fingers clawed for a grip on Ellie’s rusty brown hair.

“So — fuckin’… pretty, baby,” she moaned into you, between tongue-deep licks of your pussy. The sound of Ellie’s tongue messily lapping against and into your gushing cunt made a slippery mess out of her own underwear. But she didn’t need to tell you that for you to know.

Her fingers found themselves in your messy pussy again, her tongue at your clit, making steady swirls, occasionally closing her lips around your bud to gently suck. Like clockwork, a familiar hunger gently tore at you from your core.

“Shit, yessss, baby. Mhm, like that. Like thatttt. Gimme, El, p-please. I’m —” 

Just like that, Ellie had to do the opposite of what you so desperately begged for. Her tongue abandoned your clit, and her fingers left your pussy, sticky, beaded strings of slick adorning the space between them. An exasperated whimper left with an exhale. Ellie sat back onto her heels, self-satisfied smirk on her face.

“Sorry — were you not done?”

“Fuckin’ Christ, El. You’re so annoying.”

She watched you compose yourself from the brink of the delicious chase of your orgasm, pulling something out from inside a bin from underneath the bed. Something she hadn’t used since she had seen you last. 

She calmly wrestled it on, made sure it was secure. And you ignored the blatant watering of your mouth.

“Aww, c’mon.” She screwed up her chin into a sarcastic pout. Her features sat gentle on her face, but her movements were a bit rough. Her hands pulled your legs to the right, leaving you on your side. Without giving you time to react, she rolled you onto your front, and pulled your ass up by your hips. You comfortably laid there, on your knees. “You love it.”

Her hazel eyes drank you up, admired your ass, and locked on the pretty, glistening wet lips between your legs.

“What are yo—”, you started, unable to finish. Ellie’s fingers spread your pussy lips, the tip of the strap gliding just-barely in. “H-holy shhhit.” 

The sultry whine slipped from your mouth. And, poor you. You couldn’t help but arch your back. Stars swam in your eyes as her slips slowly rocked into you, the length of her strap filling your wet cunt. 

“Slipped in sooo easy, baby,” Ellie hummed, hypnotized by the view, the way your ass moved with every stroke. Her palms spread on your ass, fingers digging in, likely to leave light fingertip bruises afterward. Her strokes got quicker and harder, her strap running over that delicious sweet spot in your pussy.

“Ellie! Fuck! Goddd, fuck me plea— right there, rightthere, baby,” you groaned, barely coherent, face-deep into her pillow, hands clawing at the sheets that smelled so much like her.

A series of whimpers had been leaving Ellie’s lips as she fucked you, the base of the strap rubbing comfortably — conveniently — against her clit. Something feral crawled up into Ellie’s abdomen with each stroke.

Unsatisfied with her grip on you, she reached over, laid a hand across your throat, forcing you to look up and stifling your moaning. 

“You make such — pretty fuckin’… noises for me — fuck,” Ellie said. Maybe sighed. Although, to you it felt like a pant.

You turned your head just a bit to catch a blurry sideways glimpse of Ellie. There was a cool glow that illuminated the side of her face, freckles clear and bright, eyes closed and chasing that familiar tug in your core as she fucked into you. It was probably the moonlight trickling in from behind Ellie’s closed curtains. 

And it was safe to say you fucking hated those curtains as they were.

Writhing under the pressure and friction of Ellie’s body behind yours, you secretly wished those curtains were never closed to prying eyes. You desperately wanted someone to look in. Someone to watch Ellie fuck you silly while you were wide-eyed, hypnotized, and hungry. The way she used to. Face down, ass up and fucked into a pillow. The way it was supposed to be.

And you’ve never looked more fucking gorgeous to her. 

“God fuck, so clo—”  Ellie’s breathy groans grew more intense, her sounds became all whiny, fussy, insatiable. You had her wrapped around your finger — and you’d be insane to make it all so easy for her. Her breathing quickened, catching itself on that warm knot in her stomach nearly unraveling. 

You pulled forward and away from Ellie. The strap slid out of your pussy, to both your dismay and delight. A smirk snuck its way onto your lips as you turned around, rolling onto your back — missionary.

Her freckled chest was heaving a hard, unsteady breath. A bewildered expression on her features bordered on defeat.

“The fuck was that?” She asked, chest and cheeks alight, flush and rosy. You daydreamed about leaving purplish love bites around her neck, like a collar. You had always been holding the leash, haven't you? 

This was your proof.

“I think that makes us even,” you answered, brandishing your self-satisfaction.

“Asshole,” Ellie exhaled with half a laugh, still catching her breath. Her hand tapped your thigh in a light smack — Ellie’s version of playful chastisement.

“Yeah?” you challenged, eyes flicking between the harness and the endearing lines forming at the corner of Ellie’s smirk.

You sat up, hands at the harness which sat around her hips and ass, managing to wrangle it off. Your eyes struggled to leave the pretty, sloppy mess she made underneath it.

Often you wondered if there was some secret language that only you two speak telepathically. Because she grabbed your legs, forcing you on your back again, and hoisting your right leg over her right shoulder — doing exactly as you desired. 

Ellie positioned herself so that her middle met your own, and when it did, the feeling of her warm, sticky cunt made the ache of your clit border on painful. The slightest movement made the most delicious and obnoxious sound of your desperately wet pussies up against each other. 

“So fuckin’ wet for me, baby,” Ellie huffed, watching the way your hands grasp at your own chest in lust. “Is that all for me, pretty girl?”

Strings of drool stretched between your cunts every time she pulled away and returned back to you, hips rocking like something carnally possessed. Your clits passed over each other, throbbing hard and sensitive from the pressure and slippery, effortless lack of friction between your gushing pussies.

“Mhm, yes, fuck… yes—,” your pathetic, lovedrunk mouth ran. “All fuckin’ yours.”

You admired the tiny beads of sweat on her,  like a mist that fell over Ellie’s neck and chest. You couldn’t help but bite your lip at the sight of glistening slick adorning both of your thighs. The air was a mess of both your whimpers, whines, nearly animalistic breathing.

“Uh-huh, just like that — All mine, baby,” Ellie groaned, leaning just a bit forward to grab one of your tits with her free hand. 

All hers. Sure, you were both drunk. But Ellie did nothing but confirm all of which you held to be true in secret. You’ve always belonged to each other – whether the world knew it or not.

“Keep going, please— yes… shitttt. El, plea— please fuck me,” you pleaded, eyeing Ellie’s tits bounce as she rubbed herself against you.

You clawed at each other; fingernails dug into Ellie’s forearm, and Ellie returned the favor with fingertips pressed hard into her grip on your thigh. The incessant and pathetic desire to get closer than you were plagued you both, as if you hadn’t been close enough. You could've shared skin – and surely even that wouldn't be enough. 

A mouthwatering daydream of watching Ellie’s eyebrows draw together exactly the way they did earlier, became reality. Lust burned circles around your clit and the deep tug behind your belly button served as a warning.

You could gather the same from Ellie, her eyes pinched closed, movements a bit more erratic, a bit more involuntary.

“Gonna make me cum with you, baby? Make me fucking cu—,” Ellie said, words sloppy and frantic, breathing ragged. “Shitshitshit, holy fuck, fuck!”

As warmth crept from Ellie’s cunt overs – you writhed underneath it. The thought of Ellie’s squirt drenching your pussy did nothing put you over the frenzied edge.

“Mhm, please, so fuckin’ close, El. Please, so close, I can’t fucki— shit! I’mcumming I’mcumming, fuckin’ god—” A tide rolled itself in your gut – you held your breath, just to feel it a bit longer, the euphoric tension and release. Heat ripped from your cunt to your chest, pussy clenching, clit throbbing, Ellie unrelenting. The relief in your clit grew sharp, a bit painful, overwhelming. Your hand rose to her abdomen, preventing her from rocking against you further. “Jesus christ.”

Ellie’s half-lidded gaze favored the way you squirmed under her; you were just so effortlessly beautiful, at the brink of cumming, at the sleepy aftermath – even with sweat beaded upon your brow from the desperate chase.

She adjusted her legs, fixed in order to collapse next you, although close enough to nearly be on top of you. You tangled legs with hers, finding soft, cool spots on her skin to rest on. Ellie lays half-way on her side, one arm folder and underneath a pillow and the other tracing the outline of your jaw. You both take a moment to catch your breaths.

“But friends don’t fuck friends right?” Ellie quipped sarcastically, waiting for a laugh from you.

“Oh, shut up, El,” you replied, a bit of a spirited defeat in your voice. Fighting the sleepiness, the exhaustion, the self-satisfaction –  you relented, wanting to enjoy the moment as it was. For now, she was yours and you were hers. You shared a bed. The sheets smelled of you. She called you her baby. 

“Let’s just…worry about that shit tomorrow.”