#ellie’s fluff

[thru-the-grapevine]

[3:12 AM] The bed feels more spacious than it ought to.

You crack open an eye and glance at the other side of the bed. Empty. Your mostly-asleep gaze wanders to the clock on the far nightstand; after 3 in the morning. You let your eye close again, drifting comfortably for a while in the fog of half-consciousness. And then you roll over and sit up, stumbling slowly to your feet.

A faint bluish glow emanates from the other end of the hall. When you pad into the living room, you see Chris exactly where you’d left him hours ago. Hunched at his desk, headphones on, clicking every now and then, staring at Cubase and several instrument mixers.

He startles momentarily when you drape your arms over his shoulders. He relaxes and pulls the headphones down, tapping the spacebar to pause the music.

You kiss the top of his head. “How’s it looking?”

“Better,” Chris hums, lifting his free hand and rubbing your arm. “Fixed that annoying buzzing sound.”

You hum, resting your cheek against his hair, looking at the dual monitors. “Can I hear?”

“’Course,” he says, and you can hear the pleased grin in his voice. That’s his favorite request you can make of him.

He unplugs the headphones and fiddles with the knobs on his volume box, clicks around and then taps the spacebar again.

He’s right; the buzzing noise that had hovered persistently in the corners of the track is gone. He’s nuanced the vocal effects, as well, softened the pitch corrector, and you smile, fond of how sincere his voice sounds.

“’S pretty,” you murmur, humming at a new instrument that hadn’t been there before.

“It’s closer,” he admits, not fully accepting the compliment.

You’re too sleepy to push back, make him accept the praise, so you merely bury your face in his hair.

“You should get some sleep, like I said,” Chris tells you, voice tinged with concern.

He had told you to do that…four hours ago.

You snort. “Love. Check the time.”

“Hm?” You feel his head tilt, watch his mouse slide to the bottom corner of the screen to the clock. “…Oh.”

“Was sleeping,” you say, watching his mouse trail back up over Cubase, deliberating. “’N then I woke up with too much space ‘n not enough warm.”

He hums in acknowledgment, the noise tinged with guilt.

You kiss the top of his head again. “…Please?”

He sighs, leaning his head back against your shoulder.

“You at a good stopping point?” You ask, knowing too well what his next argument will be.

He sighs again quietly, a sound of concession. “I never am…but this will do.”

You grin and give him an encouraging squeeze as he presses save three times on each software.

“Bet you’ll knock it out of the park once your brain is fresh,” you tell him as he shuts the computer down.

“And once the headache passes,” he says, pressing the heel of one hand to his eye and rubbing as he rolls the chair back.

You frown, leaning back to let him stand and stretch. “You’ve been working with a headache?”

“Just hints of one,” he insists, waving it away as he relaxes out of the stretch. “Probably eye strain.”

You give him a look. “You know, that might not happen if you’d just wear your glasses.”

It’s a lost cause and you both know it. He snorts, then gets a better look at you and smiles.

“Your hair’s cute,” he says, lifting a hand to your head and ruffling.

You scrunch your face up in protest. “’S bedhead, Chris.”

“And it’s cute,” he insists, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Bedtime?”

“Past bedtime,” you say, giving him a stern look when he leans back. “Long, long past.”

“Hmm,” he says, studying your face and smiling in that goopy-eyed way that you know means he’s barely listening. You roll your eyes.

He lets you take his hand and guide him back down the hall, lets you procure pajamas for him while he talks through what else he wants to do in the song, lets you help him change as he explains.

“Just want the feeling of the song to be right when you hear it, even without lyrics,” he says as you help pull on the pajama shirt.

“People will know,” you tell him, patting his shoulder and taking his hand again, guiding him to bed. “I can feel it when I hear it.”

“But what if that’s just you?” He frets, lying back and getting comfortable, drawing up the covers. “What if you just know me?”

You burrow under the covers and lay your head on his chest, wrapping an arm around him. “I do know you. But that’s not why I felt it.”

“But how do you know for sure?” He asks, his hand back in your hair, stroking softly.

You prop your chin up on his chest and look at him. “Babe. You’re not capable of making dishonest or disingenuous music. Your heart’s all the way out there in every little detail.”

He looks at you for a long moment, fingers slow and gentle in your hair. Eventually he lifts his hand and rests the pad of his forefinger on the tip of your nose.

“I like you so much,” he murmurs.

An embarrassed grin sweeps over your face. You nestle your face into his chest vigorously, and he laughs.

“Like you too,” you hum, sandwiching one of his legs between yours and snuggling in. “I’m also right.”

“Hope so,” he murmurs, and then his arm curls comfortably around you. “Go back to sleep.”

“You sleep, you need it more,” you mumble, and he chuckles.

“I’ll sleep well with my weighted blanket,” he teases you, hand squeezing your side reassuringly.

You grin and press a kiss to his chest. “Not as well as I’ll sleep with my body pillow.”

“You’re on,” he whispers, and you’re out like a light before a full minute passes.

Admin Ellie’s Masterlist

[l0caltiredgirl]

when i want fluff/angst fics and all i’m getting is smut

the struggle is real

[chaoticstrawberryrebel]

The arms 💪🏻

Cosplayer: Quinn

(Ps: she is a minor, and i only post her bc of her ellie cosplay)

[stxrsiren]

scissor me september.

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

Handsy Vika

Sevika x Female Reader.

Your girlfriend loves your chest.

(Head Cannons || Smut + Fluff)

MEN DO NOT FUCKING INTERACT!!!

Cw: Nipple play. Reader doesn’t have a specific chest size, but do they bounce?? idk if thats like.. IDK. 🤷🏽‍♀️

Not Proofread || Note: HAPPY NEW YEARS AAYYY!!! 🥳

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Sevika’s more of the handsy type.

She likes having her grip on things. Whether it’s holding your hand, tapping your ass, wrapping an arm around your waist or even your hips, she likes having you in her grasp— she likes the silent marking of her territory. Letting everyone know you’re hers and only hers.

One thing, however, that gets her attention more than anything else is your chest. She likes how plump your breasts look, how they’re just screaming for her to touch; for her hands.

She doesn’t have a specific type in how big her girlfriend’s boobs should be. But, as they say, the more the merrier.

She enjoys the view of your cleavage. She could stare at it for hours, really. The sight of you in a low cut top makes her hands itch for a poke, a squeeze even.

Even sitting in her lap at The Last Drop she has to hold back the urge to get a brush of a touch. It’s like there’s this invisible force pulling her hand to your chest.

One thing she’ll never admit is that she actually enjoys watching you walk around. She gets lewd thoughts just watching your breasts slightly bounce up and down.

We all know Sevika’s pretty damn protective, but it’s heightened whenever she sees someone’s eyes lingering a millisecond too long on the exposed skin of your chest. She knows you’re pretty, and pretty things attract attention, but that doesn’t mean she likes it. You’re her pretty thing, not some lost diamond waiting to be claimed.

What about when no one else is around? When it’s just the two of you in your shared apartment? When she can do whatever she wants to you?

Watching you walk around with your tight tank top turns her on. More than you’d ever expect.

It’s the way you’re so casually making your way towards the kitchen for a cup of water that gets her heart rate spiling. It’s the way your damn breasts look, all round and soft, that gets her mouth watering.

After trying her best to hold back, your girlfriend will call you over, feigning loneliness and luring you into her lap. And, undoubtedly, you never say no. Not even when her finger runs up and down your stomach, inching closer to your bra. How could you say no to pleasure?

She’ll sweet talk in your ear, whispering dirty little words about your breasts all the while cupping them under your shirt.

“My baby has really soft tits.” Yes, she calls them tits. “You’re harder than before, y’like this?” She’s referring to your hardened nipples. “What if I just?..” and she’ll give you a pinch and a hard pull.

Sometimes what turns her on further is pulling your shirt over your chest, not taking it off but only moving it. Sevika doesn’t understand why she thinks it’s so much more hotter, but all she knows is that she enjoys it.

Kissing your neck with her dark lips while twisting your nipples inbetween her fingers is one way to start it off. She’ll occasionally give them soft squeezes, pushing them together and, as embarrassing as it is for you, poke them and watch them recoil.

All you can do is shiver and moan. The cool metal of her mech hand always makes it harder to focus, especially when she slides it down, under your shorts, and presses it against your clit. It’s a sensation you can’t get enough of, can’t really describe. There’s no real motion, no friction, just a cold touch that makes you squirm.

(No, she won’t stick her mech fingers up your hoo-haa. She’s too scared it’ll scratch you. What if it malfunctions? She’d rather use her flesh fingers.)

Switching spots with her mech hand, she’ll rub against your pulsing clit. She likes feeling your hips shudder in her lap, the way your thighs close and push her fingers harder against you. She has no shame in what it does to her.

Her silver eyes never leave your form. She’ll stare at how her mech fingers are able to dig into your breast, how her flesh hand looks under your shorts, giving them a buldge, how you bite your lip in pure enjoyment, and even how your jaw drops afterwards. Sevika’s in love with your reactions.

Other than using her hands, Sevika likes tasting them aswell. In a comfortable position, she could gobble you up. Nipple in her mouth, she rubs her tongue against the tip. She’ll even, occasionally, give you a gentle bite, a suck and a pull.

She likes keeping eye contact while she does this, because, again, she loves seeing your face as she’s making you feel good. Knowing full well your cunt’s throbbing for more, yelling for contact, she won’t give it to you that quickly.

Alright, now.. what about Sevika when she’s not in the mood for sex? When all she needs is comfort?

After a long day of fixing up after someone’s bullshit, all your girlfriend needs is you.

She’ll come home late and immediately drag herself to the bedroom, laying her eyes on your half-asleep figure. It makes her sleepier.

And you, being the amazing girlfriend you are, always opening your arms for her muscular body to melt into.

She’ll rest her head on your natural cushions, arms lazily draped beside you on the bed as she deeply sighs in relief. Her back pain’s gone (she’s just distracted), her headache lessened, and she’s feeling so, so, so much better.

You’ll press heavenly kisses on her head, fingers playing with her dark hair all the while massaging her scalp. You know full well how to get her relaxed.

Earlier, the mention of your breasts feeling like stress balls— Yeah.. she’ll flip on her side and let her flesh hand give your chest a few, lazy squeezes. Your girlfriend’s too exhausted to care and she’ll continue until she’s snoring in your arms.

[pandapetals]

when the leaves turn

summary: as the seasons change in jackson, so does your relationship with joel. It starts with small things—his quiet presence outside the schoolhouse, how he keeps bringing you books for the kids or how his gruff demeanor softens just slightly when he talks to you.

pairing: jackson!joel miller x fem!teacher reader

word count: 8k

content warnings: slight reader description, y/n used once or twice, slight slow burn, fluff, some angst, maria appearance, ellie being ellie, grumpy joel but soft, kissing but at the end.

a/n: request from anon. inspired by autumn/winter months. divider by @saradika-graphics.

August

Autumn in Jackson smelled like wood smoke and damp earth, like something settling in before the frost. Maybe that was why it always felt like a fresh start. Or maybe it was because school began then, and with it, the quiet thrill of sharpening pencils, smoothing out worn pages, and watching young minds spark to life.

The air carried a crisp bite in the mornings, warming just enough by midday to make the schoolhouse feel less like a drafty old cabin and more like a place where something good could grow. You tried to hold on to that feeling now as you stood in the small room, surveying the meager stack of books on the shelf. Five. That was it. Five stories to last an entire year.

Maria did what she could—she always did—but Jackson could only provide so much. Food, shelter, safety. The essentials. Books, though? Books were sacred.

The kids deserved more. They deserved to get lost in stories, to hear unfamiliar words roll off the tongue, to dream beyond the walls of this town. And right now, all you had were the same five dog-eared volumes, ones that had already been read so many times the kids could recite them back to you. They needed more.

You’d mentioned it offhand, a passing comment to Maria or Tommy—how the kids were running out of new books to read, how their little library shelves were looking thinner by the week. You hadn’t thought much of it at the time.

Maria had brought it up to Joel once in passing, maybe while handing out patrol assignments or over dinner at the hall. Though he didn’t say much in response—just a slow nod, a quiet grunt of acknowledgment—he’d kept it tucked away.

After that, every time he rode beyond the gates, rifle slung across his back, he started looking. Not just for threats. Not just for supplies.

For books.

For the kids, at least. That’s what he told himself.

When Maria stopped by the schoolhouse, a small stack of books cradled in her arms. She set them down on your desk with a satisfied smile.

“Look what turned up,” she said, brushing the cold from her sleeves.

Your eyes widened as you reached for the top one—a hardcover copy of Charlotte’s Web, its edges worn but still intact. Beneath it, a few dog-eared paperbacks, pages yellowed with time but still readable.

“Oh, Maria,” you breathed, running a hand over the covers. “Where did you find these?”

She waved a hand. “You mentioned needing more. Figured I’d keep an eye out.”

You smiled, touched by the gesture. “Thank you.”

Maria didn’t correct you. Didn’t mention the real reason those books were here. Just shot you a knowing look before heading back out into the cool autumn breeze.

That day, you watched as the kids excitedly flipped through the pages, some still having to share, but none of them seeming to mind. Their little fingers traced over faded words, their voices rising with excitement as they pored over the “new” books. It was worth it—seeing them light up like that.

A few days later, more books appeared.

Five of them were stacked neatly on the steps outside the schoolhouse. No note. No explanation. Just left there in the quiet of the early morning.

You glanced around, expecting someone to step forward, maybe one of the townsfolk who had extras lying around. But no one lingered nearby, no one waiting to be thanked.

Possibly Maria had found more books but something about it didn’t sit right.

Then it happened again and again.

Every few days, another small pile of books—some more battered than others, their covers soft with age, spines cracked, but pages still intact. Someone was going through a lot of trouble to bring them here.

And you were determined to find out who.

____________

“Maria?” You called as you spotted her walking through town one Saturday afternoon, bundled up against the lingering chill in the air.

She turned, offering you a polite smile. “What’s up?”

You fell into step beside her, arms crossed. “How have you been finding all of these books?” Your voice was casual, but your curiosity slipped through.

Maria blinked, then let out a small chuckle. “Oh,” she shook her head, a little amused, a little knowing. “I didn’t find them.”

Your brows furrowed. “Then who—”

“Actually, Joel has—”

You stopped mid-step. “Joel?”

Maria’s smirk deepened, but she didn’t add anything else, just gave you a meaningful look before continuing on her way.

Joel.

You found him that afternoon, just as he was tying off his horse near the stables, fresh from patrol. His jacket was dusted with dried mud, his knuckles scuffed like he might’ve had to wrestle something—or someone—on the way back. And slung over his shoulder, nestled in his pack, you could just make out the edges of another book.

You crossed your arms and cleared your throat. “So… you wanna tell me why you’ve been sneaking books onto my porch like some kind of storybook bandit?”

Joel exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as he unbuckled the saddle. “Ain’t sneakin’,” he muttered. “Just droppin’ ‘em off.”

You stepped closer, tilting your head. “And where exactly are you finding all of these?”

He grunted, shifting his weight like he wasn’t sure why this was even a conversation. “Out there.” A vague nod toward the gate. “Old houses. Shops. Whatever’s left.”

You studied him, trying to piece it together. Joel wasn’t the type to go out of his way for things that weren’t necessary. He took care of what needed to be done—patrols, keeping Jackson safe—but this?

This was something else.

His fingers flexed against the strap of his pack, like he was debating whether to keep holding it or shove it into your arms and walk away.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you said softly.

Joel finally looked at you then, eyes flickering with something unreadable. He swallowed, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

“Kids need somethin’ to do,” he muttered. “Better than runnin’ around causin’ trouble.”

You huffed a quiet laugh. “You sure it’s just for the kids?”

His gaze dropped for half a second—just long enough for you to notice.

Then he shook his head, pulling the pack from his shoulder and thrusting it toward you. “Got more in here,” he said, clearing his throat. “Figure you’ll know what to do with ‘em.”

You took it, fingers brushing his. His hand was warm, rough from years of work, and the moment lingered longer than it needed to.

“Thank you, Joel.”

His lips parted slightly, like maybe he had something to say. But instead, he just gave a short nod, stepping back, putting space between you.

As he turned to go, you could’ve sworn you saw the corner of his mouth twitch—just the slightest hint of a smile.

September

You’d slowly worked your way into Joel’s life. Not that he’d admit it—not out loud, anyway.

It had started with the books, but there had always been something about him that intrigued you. Even before that. The way he carried himself and spoke in that quiet, measured way, like he only said what was worth saying. How he seemed to be made of sharp edges but had the softest touch when it came to the people he let in.

The books had just given you an excuse to talk to him.

And once you started, you didn’t want to stop.

You made a habit of waving when you passed him in town, throwing a casual ‘Hey, Joel’ over your shoulder as you carried on with your day. At first, all you got in return was a nod. Maybe a grunt.

Then, one day, he actually said ‘Hey’ back.

After a while, he started stopping when you stopped.

He never lingered long, always busy with something—fixing the fencing near the sheep pen, hauling supplies, heading out on patrol. But he let you talk to him, and that was something.

Small talk at first—how the kids were doing, whether the new batch of patrol recruits were worth a damn, what Jackson needed more of before winter hit. Nothing special. But the more you spoke, the more he softened. You saw it in how he lingered a little longer when you crossed paths, how his gaze didn’t dart away as quickly, how his nods turned into real answers.

Like today.

“I love this time of year,” you said one afternoon, adjusting the lesson plans in your arms as you passed Joel near the hall.

Joel glanced up from where he was adjusting his pack, one brow raised. “Why’s that?”

“It’s the beginning of autumn,” you said, shifting the stack of papers against your hip. “The air gets crisp, the leaves start turning.” A small smile tugged at your lips. “Or maybe I’m biased.”

His gaze lingered for a second longer than usual. “Biased how?”

“Well…” You hummed, pretending to think. “It’s my birth month.”

Joel let out a quiet huff, shaking his head. “Yeah, see, that explains it.”

You grinned. “And what about you? What’s your favorite month?”

“Don’t have one,” he answered too quickly.

You raised a brow. “No favorite month? No favorite season?”

“They’re all the same,” he muttered, adjusting the strap of his bag. “Just depends how miserable the weather wants to be.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, well, what about the worst month?”

“September,” Joel said immediately, shifting his pack higher on his shoulder. “It’s forgettable.”

Something about the way he said it made you pause.

Not because of the words, but because of the way his jaw tightened, the flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. Like the answer had been waiting there, right at the surface, ready to slip out the second you asked.

Forgettable, he’d called it.

The way he said it made your stomach twist. Like he wasn’t talking about the month at all.

You didn’t push. Just nodded, shifting the papers in your arms. “Huh.”

Something about the way he said it didn’t sit right. Like, he didn’t mean September was forgettable. Maybe he meant he was.

And that’s when it clicked.

You kept your expression neutral, storing the information away. If you were right—and you had a feeling you were—his birthday was coming up.

Joel exhaled through his nose like he was already done with the conversation. “You need help with those?”

You blinked. It was the first time he’d ever offered.

“Nah, I got it,” you said, watching as he gave a small nod and started walking away.

You let him go because even if Joel Miller hated his birthday, you already knew you weren’t going to let it pass unnoticed.

____________

You found out from Tommy that Joel’s birthday was September 26th.

He hadn’t meant to tell you—just an offhand comment, muttered between sips of coffee as he patched up a tear in his glove. But the second the words left his mouth, Tommy went stiff, like he’d said something he wasn’t supposed to.

“He don’t like to talk about it,” he warned, his voice quieter now. “Lost Sarah...”

Joel had lost his daughter that same day.

The weight of it sat heavy in your chest that night, curled up under a too-thin blanket, staring at the ceiling. You wanted to do something, but how did you celebrate a day that only brought him pain? The thought made your throat tighten, eyes burning as you buried your face in the pillow.

You couldn’t fix it. Couldn’t take away the hurt.

Maybe you could give him something that didn’t feel like a celebration but still meant I see you.

The answer came sooner than expected.

It was a chilly afternoon when you spotted Joel walking toward you, his shoulders hunched against the wind. His usual scowl was in place, but something was different.

He was carrying something.

“Hey,” you greeted, shifting the basket in your arms as he came to a stop in front of you.

Joel exhaled through his nose, his gaze flicking away like he was already second-guessing himself. Then, without a word, he reached into his pack and pulled out a small, wrapped bundle.

Rough brown paper, tied with twine.

He held it out. “Here.”

You blinked. “What’s this?”

Joel sighed, looking somewhere over your shoulder like this whole thing was deeply inconvenient for him. “You said September was your birthday month.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Carefully, you took the bundle from his hands, fingers grazing his—rough, calloused, warm even in the cold. You pulled the twine loose and peeled back the paper.

A mug.

Not just any mug. Sturdy ceramic, a little chipped at the rim, but glazed in a deep, autumn gold. You could tell it was old but well-made, like the kind you’d find in a house that had once been a home.

You swallowed past the sudden lump in your throat. “Joel…”

He shifted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Figured you might need one,” he muttered. “See you haulin’ coffee to the school every mornin’. Thought… well. Just thought.”

Your fingers curled around the handle. It fit perfectly in your palm.

It was nothing grand. Nothing fancy, but it was thoughtful.

You looked up at him, warmth spreading through your chest. “Thank you.”

His ears tinged pink. He gave a stiff nod like he wasn’t sure what to do with your gratitude.

Your heart pounded. Now or never.

“Actually…” You hesitated. “I have something for you too.”

Joel’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing slightly. “For what?”

You bit your lip, gripping the mug a little tighter. “For your birthday.”

Something passed over his face—quick, fleeting. His jaw clenched, his fingers flexing at his sides.

He shook his head. “You don’t gotta—”

“I know,” you cut in softly. “I know you don’t like your birthday. But… I still wanted to do something for you.”

Joel went quiet.

You let the words settle between you, watching the tension in his shoulders, the way his mouth pressed into a firm line like he wanted to argue but couldn’t quite find the words.

Then, finally, he exhaled, slow and measured. “What is it?”

You smiled. “Come by my place later and find out.”

His eyes flickered with something unreadable. He hesitated. Then, after a long pause, he gave a small nod.

That evening, there was a knock at your door.

Joel stood there, arms crossed, looking like he wasn’t sure if he regretted showing up or not.

You grinned. “Come in.”

He did, stepping inside cautiously, gaze sweeping over the cozy space—books stacked in uneven piles, a blanket draped over the couch, the faint scent of something warm in the air.

You grabbed the package from the table and turned to face him. “Here.”

He stared at it. Then at you.

Slowly, he reached out and took it.

He unwrapped it carefully, calloused fingers making quick work of the twine. The paper fell away, and Joel went still.

A flannel shirt.

Dark green, lined with soft fleece on the inside. Thick enough to keep him warm on patrol, but not too heavy. Well-made, just like the one he always wore—the one you knew had been patched up more times than you could count.

His fingers smoothed over the fabric, quiet.

You shifted on your feet. “I noticed yours was getting pretty worn,” you murmured. “Thought you could use another.”

Joel swallowed, still staring at it.

For a long moment, you thought maybe you’d overstepped. That he’d shake his head, shove it back at you, mutter something about how he didn’t need it.

Instead, he surprised you.

He cleared his throat. “It’s… nice.” A pause. “Thank you.”

Your chest ached at how hesitant he sounded. Like he wasn’t used to someone thinking about him, let alone for him.

You smiled. “Happy early birthday, Joel.”

He looked at you then. Really looked, and for the first time, he didn’t seem quite so uncomfortable with the weight of it.

October 

October had settled into Jackson with crisp air and golden leaves crunching underfoot. The town buzzed with preparations for Maria’s fall festival: strings of lanterns hung between buildings, tables were set up with baked goods, and the faint scent of cinnamon and apples drifted through the streets.

Joel had tried to ignore the whole thing. Tried.

But then you’d mentioned it—offhand, casual.

“You’re coming, right?” You’d asked, tilting your head at him as you straightened a pile of books in the schoolhouse.

Joel had grunted, which you took as hesitation.

You just smiled. “C’mon, it wouldn’t kill you to have a little fun.”

And somehow, he’d found himself agreeing.

Now, Ellie sat across from him at the dinner table, stabbing at a slice of pie with unnecessary force, a wicked glint in her eye.

“I’m so excited for the dance,” she said, too loud, flashing Joel a knowing grin.

Joel grunted, trying to appear disinterested as he scooped up another bite of stew. “Mhm.”

Ellie’s grin widened. She was a shark who had scented blood.

“Is your girlfriend gonna be there?” she asked, dragging out the word obnoxiously.

Joel nearly choked on his food. He shot her a glare. “She ain’t my girlfriend.”

Ellie gasped dramatically, clutching her chest like she’d been personally wounded. “Wow. Harsh.”

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, setting his spoon down with a little too much force. “I ain’t havin’ this conversation with you.”

“Oh, you so are.” Ellie leaned in, elbows on the table, smirking. “You’ve been actin’ all weird lately. Like, more than usual.”

“I don’t act weird.”

“You so do.” She started counting on her fingers. “You’ve been nice to people. Like, actually talking to them instead of just grunting. You suddenly care about how you look before you leave the house—”

Joel scoffed. “The hell I do.”

Ellie ignored him, grinning wider. “And the other day? You were smiling. Like, a real, actual smile.”

Joel picked up his spoon again, pointing it at her. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

Ellie kicked her feet up on the chair next to her, completely undeterred. “Oh, but I do. You like her.”

Joel tensed, his jaw ticking. Ellie just sat there, smirking, waiting for him to deny it.

He didn’t.

Instead, he focused on his food, muttering under his breath, “Eat your damn pie.”

Ellie beamed in victory.

“Can’t wait to see you two at the dance,” she sang, hopping up from the table and grabbing her plate. “Gonna be so romantic.”

Joel groaned, rubbing a hand down his face.

What the hell had he just agreed to?

____________

The hall had been transformed. Twinkling lanterns hung from the rafters, casting everything in a warm golden glow. Tables were lined with mismatched candles, their tiny flames flickering against the cool draft seeping in from the open doors. The scent of cider and baked apples filled the space, blending with the sound of laughter and the soft strum of a guitar from the corner.

You stood near the refreshment table, hands wrapped around a warm mug, watching as couples twirled across the wooden floor. It was almost normal.

For a moment, it was easy to pretend the world wasn’t broken. That beyond Jackson’s walls, there weren’t infected lurking in the shadows, waiting to take all of this away.

You shifted on your feet, smoothing a hand over your dress—nothing fancy, just something simple, warm enough for the crisp autumn night, paired with your trusty boots. The fabric swayed gently as you moved, and you felt a little lighter, a little more… hopeful.

Then, the door swung open, and your breath caught, causing your heart to do a stupid little flutter at the sight of him.

Joel’s hair was combed back—not slicked, not perfect, just neater than usual, like maybe he’d actually put in some effort. He wore a deep green flannel, the one you’d given him for his birthday, unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves pushed up to his forearms. He wore jeans, boots, and his usual belt. Still very much Joel, but softened somehow.

Beside him, Ellie smirked up at him, clearly impressed.

“Damn, look at you,” she teased, elbowing him as they stepped inside. “Who knew you could clean up this nice?”

Joel shot her a look. “I ain’t cleaned up.”

Ellie snorted. “You so are.” Then, as if just noticing you, her smirk widened. “Ohhh, I see now.”

Joel followed her gaze, his eyes landing on you. His movements slowed, just for a second.

Then he exhaled through his nose, shifting on his feet like he was suddenly self-conscious.

You smiled. “You made it.”

He grunted, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. You asked.”

Ellie gasped, loud and exaggerated. “Wait. Wait—did Joel Miller just admit he came here for you?” She turned to him, grinning. “That’s, like, the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

Joel shot her a withering look. “Go away.”

Ellie only cackled, grabbing a cup of cider from the table. “Nah, I think I’ll stick around and see how this plays out.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Be nice, Ellie.”

Ellie snorted. “I am being nice. You should’ve seen him before we left—kept grumbling about how this was a waste of time. And yet, here he is.”

Joel pinched the bridge of his nose. “I swear to God—”

You stepped closer, tilting your head up at him. “You do look nice, though.”

Joel’s hand dropped. His gaze flickered to yours, something unreadable behind it.

A slow breath. Then—so soft you almost missed it—“You too.”

A warmth spread through you, settling deep in your chest.

Ellie groaned, dramatically rolling her eyes. “Oh my God, just dance already.”

Joel scowled. “Ain’t happenin’.”

Ellie grinned. “We’ll see about that.”

You chuckled, taking a slow sip of your cider, already scheming.

Ellie, ever the troublemaker, smirked one last time before making a half-hearted excuse and disappearing into the crowd, leaving you and Joel standing there alone.

You turned to him, offering a fresh cup of cider. “Here.”

Joel hesitated for just a second before taking it, his fingers brushing against yours—warm and rough.

“Thanks,” he muttered, eyes fixed on the floor like the damn woodgrain had something interesting to say.

You smiled, watching him. It was strange, seeing him here—out of place but present, the usual tension in his shoulders just a little looser. The lantern light flickered over his face, casting soft shadows along the sharp angles of his jaw, catching the silver in his hair.

Then, the band struck up a new tune.

Your breath hitched. That song.

An old favorite, one you hadn’t heard in years. Something soft and slow, the kind of melody that wrapped around you like a warm embrace.

You set your cider down, turning to Joel with a grin. “C’mon.”

His brow furrowed. “What?”

“Dance with me.”

Joel stiffened, shifting on his feet like you’d just asked him to recite poetry in front of the whole town. “Nah.”

You sighed dramatically. “Joel.”

“Nope.”

You took a step closer. “It’s just one dance.”

“I don’t dance.”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

You arched a brow. “Not even back in the day?”

Joel huffed, eyes darting to the side like he was contemplating an escape route. “That was different.”

Your lips twitched. “Different how?”

He exhaled sharply, tilting his head back before looking at you again. “You ain’t lettin’ this go, are you?”

“Nope.”

Joel stared at you for a long moment. You could see the war in his eyes—the reluctance, the hesitation.

Then you reached for his hand, and he let you.

His palm was broad, calloused, fingers twitching slightly under yours. You squeezed gently, giving him an out if he wanted it.

He didn’t take it.

With a quiet sigh, Joel let you lead him toward the dance floor, moving stiffly at first, like his body had forgotten how this worked.

“You’re gonna be fine,” you teased softly, placing his free hand at your waist.

He swallowed. “You say that now.”

You started to sway, guiding him with slow, easy steps. After a beat, he followed.

The tension in his shoulders faded gradually, his grip firm but careful, like he wasn’t sure how much space to leave between you. You took the liberty of closing the distance just a little more, your body brushing against his as the music hummed around you.

He smelled like worn leather and cedarwood. It made you feel safe.

His hand at your waist flexed slightly. His thumb brushed absentmindedly against the fabric of your dress, barely there, but enough to make your breath hitch.

You tilted your head up to look at him. His gaze was already on you.

Something unreadable passed between you.

“You’re not bad at this,” you murmured.

Joel scoffed, shaking his head. “Not sayin’ I like it.”

You smiled. “Sure, Joel.”

He huffed, but his fingers curled a little tighter at your waist, holding you closer. His grip wasn’t hesitant anymore.

“You’re a…” He started, his voice low, rough.

You grinned. “Pain in your ass?”

Joel exhaled sharply, something close to a laugh—not quite, but enough to make your stomach flutter.

“No,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Was gonna say somethin’ else.”

You tilted your head up at him, eyes bright with mischief. “Oh? Like what?”

Joel’s jaw tightened, like he was debating whether or not to take the bait. His gaze flickered away for a brief second before landing back on you, something unreadable in those deep, hazel eyes.

“You’re persistent,” he finally said.

Joel let out a quiet grunt, but there was no real bite behind it. His thumb brushed absently along your waist just enough to send warmth curling through you.

“You always this difficult?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

You hummed, swaying a little closer. “Only with you.”

Joel’s fingers twitched against your waist. His eyes held yours, something shifting in them, something softer than before.

“I should’ve known,” he muttered, but his voice had no frustration. If anything, he sounded almost… amused.

You grinned. “You’re gettin’ used to me, though.”

He shook his head, but his lips twitched just enough for you to notice. “Don’t know ‘bout that, sweetheart.”

December

Autumn was long gone, swept away with the last of the golden leaves. Winter had settled into Jackson with an unforgiving grip—bitter winds, thick snowfall, the kind of cold that seeped into your bones no matter how many layers you wore.

Today was no different.

Snow had started falling in the early afternoon, dusting the rooftops and piling in soft drifts along the streets. By the time class ended, the steady flurries had thickened into something heavier, swirling outside the schoolhouse windows.

Most of the kids had already rushed out the door, eager to get home before the worst of it hit, but a few lingered behind, helping you straighten chairs and gather up scattered lesson papers.

Then, the door creaked open, and a burst of cold air followed Joel Miller inside.

He stomped the snow from his boots, shaking his head as he pulled the scarf from around his neck. A familiar worn satchel was slung over his shoulder, and he made his way toward your desk, setting a small stack of books down with a quiet thump.

“Found these on patrol,” he muttered, glancing at you before shifting his weight like he wasn’t sure if he should linger.

You brushed your hands off on your skirt and stepped closer, fingertips trailing over the covers. “You’re making a habit of this,” you mused, looking up at him.

Joel grunted, rubbing a hand over his beard. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

You smirked with an expression that read—Sure, Joel.

Before you could tease him further, the wind outside howled, rattling the old windowpanes. One of the kids—Lucy, a bright-eyed girl no older than seven—paused in the middle of stacking the bookshelves.

“Sounds bad out there,” she murmured.

Another gust of wind shrieked against the schoolhouse walls. The fire in the woodstove crackled, but a draft crept in beneath the door, chilling the air. You frowned, moving to peek outside.

Your stomach dipped.

The gentle snowfall from earlier had turned into a full-blown storm. White-out conditions. The streets had already disappeared under a thick, shifting blanket of snow, and the wind howled through town, sharp and biting.

Joel came up behind you, close enough that you felt his warmth. “Storm’s settin’ in fast,” he muttered, voice low.

You turned to the kids, trying to keep your voice calm. “Alright, looks like we’re stayin’ put for a bit.”

Lucy’s little brother, Daniel, fidgeted. “For how long?”

Joel crossed his arms. “’Til it clears up enough to walk home safe.”

The words weren’t unkind, but Daniel’s face still fell. His lip trembled, and he blinked up at Joel, eyes wide. “But what if it doesn’t stop?”

Joel sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. You could see the exact moment he caved, the hard lines in his expression softening just slightly.

Kneeling down, he met Daniel’s worried gaze head-on. “Ain’t the first storm I’ve seen, kid,” he said, voice gentler now. “Won’t be the last. Nothin’ to do but wait it out. We’re safe here.”

Daniel sniffled but nodded.

You hid a smile, glancing at Joel as he stood back up. He caught you looking and huffed. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said innocently.

He narrowed his eyes, but before he could press, another voice piped up.

“What do we do now?” Lucy asked, shifting on her feet.

Joel glanced at you. You both knew the worst thing to do was let the kids sit in silence, stewing in worry.

You clapped your hands together. “We make the best of it.”

A few skeptical looks.

“Ever had a snowstorm sleepover?”

Lucy perked up. “Like… camping?”

“Exactly like camping,” you said brightly. “Except warmer.”

Joel snorted. “Debatable.”

You ignored him. “We’ve got books, a warm fire, and if we’re lucky…” You shot a glance at Joel. “Maybe some stories?”

Joel sighed, already shaking his head. “I ain’t—”

“C’mon, Joel,” Ellie’s voice suddenly called from the doorway.

You turned just in time to see her waltz in, brushing snow from her shoulders. “Oh, hell yeah,” she grinned, glancing around at the kids. “We havin’ a storm party in here?”

“You shouldn’t be out in this,” Joel muttered, but there was no real heat behind it.

Ellie shrugged, flopping onto a chair. “Relax, old man. I barely had to walk a block.”

She turned to the kids, nodding toward Joel. “Y’know, he’s real good at tellin’ stories. Bet if you bug him enough, he’ll spill a good one.”

Joel scowled. “Ellie.”

Ellie grinned, leaning back. “What? Just sayin’.”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “Guess it’s unanimous, then. Looks like you’re up, Miller.”

Joel exhaled sharply, glaring at Ellie before looking back at you. For a second, he seemed like he might refuse. Might grumble something about how this was your problem, not his, but then Daniel looked up at him again, eyes still a little wary, still searching for reassurance.

Joel sighed, shaking his head. “Fine.”

Cheers erupted from the kids. Ellie whooped, shooting you a smug look.

You smiled, settling in as Joel pulled up a chair.

He leaned back, arms crossed, eyes scanning the small group in front of him like he was still debating whether this was worth his time. But then Lucy wiggled forward eagerly, Daniel tucked himself into the corner of the worn-out couch, and even Ellie leaned in slightly, clearly expecting a show.

Joel sighed, like he was already regretting this, and then—he started talking.

You leaned against your desk, watching him. Hanging onto every word.

At first, you were just listening, like everyone else. But then, your focus started to shift—not just to what he was saying, but how he was saying it.

The way his deep, low voice wrapped around the words, rich and slow, his Texan drawl stretching certain syllables, dragging out vowels in a way that sent a shiver up your spine.

God.

How had you never noticed it before?

His voice wasn’t just rough—it was warm, like whiskey on a cold night, settling deep into your bones. There was a cadence to how he spoke, how his gravelly tone smoothed over certain words and sharpened on others.

The fire flickered beside him, its glow catching the silver in his hair, casting deep shadows along the strong cut of his jaw. He wasn’t a performer, wasn’t trying to be—but he had the room in the palm of his hand, his voice steady, sure, filling the space between the crackling woodstove and the howling wind outside.

You swallowed, fingers gripping the edge of your desk.

Shit.

This was bad.

You’d always liked Joel. Always found him intriguing in that quiet, rough-around-the-edges way. Now it was something deeper, dangerous. 

You had it bad.

The worst part? You weren’t even sure when it had happened. Maybe it was the books or the way he always looked out for the kids. Maybe it was the rare, reluctant smirks he sent your way or how his hands lingered just a second too long when he handed you something.

Or maybe it was just him.

Joel Miller. A man made of sharp edges and quiet kindness, of steady hands and a voice that had somehow curled itself around your heart without you realizing it.

“You listenin’ or just starin’?”

Your eyes snapped up.

Joel was looking right at you, brow raised, mouth twitching at the corners like he already knew the answer.

Heat rushed to your face. “I—I’m listening.”

Joel hummed, unconvinced. His gaze flickered down—just for a second—before returning to yours. His fingers tapped against the armrest of his chair.

“Y’look real deep in thought over there,” he mused. “Somethin’ you wanna share with the class?”

Ellie perked up immediately. “Ohhh, yeah, what were you thinkin’ about?” She shot you a wicked grin. “Wait—were you staring at him?”

Joel groaned. “Jesus Christ.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “I was not staring.”

Ellie snickered. “Sure.”

Joel just shook his head, exhaling sharply. “You gonna let me finish this story or what?”

“By all means,” you said, biting back a smile.

Joel held your gaze for a second longer, something unreadable flickering behind those deep brown eyes. He leaned back again, clearing his throat.

But this time, when he kept talking, you noticed something different.

How his voice dipped a little lower, his fingers curled slightly tighter around the chair. The way his eyes found yours between sentences like maybe he was thinking about you, too.

____________

The snow finally stopped after two long hours, the sky clearing just enough for the late afternoon sun to peek through the heavy clouds. Its weak rays glinted off the thick blanket of white outside, already softening at the edges, turning to slush where footprints had trampled paths.

Joel stood near the door, arms crossed, watching as Lucy and Daniel rushed past him, their boots thudding against the wooden floor. Ellie was right behind them, already packing a handful of snow.

“Last one outside’s a rotten egg!” she called, shoving her way through the door with a laugh.

The kids shrieked, disappearing into the bright afternoon, their voices echoing down the street.

Joel sighed, shaking his head. “Told ‘em I’d walk ‘em home.”

You smirked, stepping beside him, watching the kids tumble into the fresh snow. “Think they’ll be okay without you?”

Joel scoffed. “Barely.”

You chuckled, shifting slightly—and that’s when you realized.

It was just the two of you now.

The schoolhouse was quiet. The fire in the stove had died down to embers, casting a dim, flickering glow against the walls. Outside, Jackson stirred back to life after the storm, but in here, it felt like time had slowed.

Joel hadn’t moved. He still stood beside you, close enough that his warmth reached you, despite the cold creeping through the gaps in the door.

You cleared your throat, turning toward him. “Guess that means you don’t have an excuse to run off now.”

Joel arched a brow. “Wasn’t plannin’ on runnin’.”

Your lips quirked. “That so?”

His gaze flickered to yours, steady, unreadable. Then—so subtly you almost didn’t catch it—his fingers twitched at his side, like he’d thought about reaching for something but thought better of it.

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of every little thing. The way his hand hovered just inches from yours. The roughness of his knuckles, the calloused pads of his fingertips, how easy it would be to close the space and—

You shook the thought away.

Joel shifted, glancing toward the table where the stack of books he’d brought still sat. “Y’gonna take those home?”

“Probably.” You moved past him to gather them up, but the moment your fingers brushed the top book, another hand beat you to it.

Joel’s.

Your breath hitched.

For a second, neither of you moved. His hand had settled just over yours, warm, solid, his fingers barely curling against your skin. A beat passed. Then another.

You glanced up.

Joel didn’t pull away.

His gaze met yours, something flickering behind those deep brown eyes—something unreadable, something waiting. The air felt different, heavier, like the storm had never really left.

Then, he cleared his throat and pulled back, grabbing half the stack and tucking it under his arm like nothing had happened.

“C’mon,” he muttered, heading for the door. “Ain’t lettin’ you haul all these by yourself.”

You blinked, heart still racing, then let out a breathless laugh. “Wow. Chivalry isn’t dead after all.”

Joel rolled his eyes, holding the door open for you. “Don’t make me regret it.”

You grinned, brushing past him, close enough that your shoulder bumped his. “Too late.”

Joel huffed. But as you stepped outside, boots crunching in the fresh snow, you caught it—that small, almost imperceptible tug at the corner of his mouth.

And you knew.

He wasn’t regretting it at all.

February 

“Alright, make sure not to eat the glue sticks,” you warned, hands on your hips, though you couldn’t keep the laughter out of your voice.

A few giggles erupted around the classroom.

“I wasn’t gonna,” Daniel muttered, even though you had caught him eyeing one earlier.

You shook your head fondly, surveying the scene in front of you. The classroom was a mess of red and pink paper scraps, doilies, and way too much glitter. Some of the kids took their time, carefully writing heartfelt messages in their Valentine’s Day cards, while others scribbled their names in messy, oversized letters before immediately running off to cause trouble.

Still, it was sweet.

Seeing them like this—carefree, just being kids—it made all the chaos worth it.

Once the last of the glue had dried, you clapped your hands. “Alright! Time to exchange.”

Excited chatter filled the air as the kids hopped up from their seats, running around the room to deliver their cards. Daniel handed Lucy one, grinning as he presented his with a dramatic flourish. Ellie, having appointed herself The Valentine’s Day Critic, went around judging everyone’s artistic abilities, much to the other kids’ annoyance.

Lucy—sweet, thoughtful Lucy—clutched a card in her hands, biting her lip in concentration.

Then, with a determined nod, she slipped it into her coat pocket and bolted out the door.

Joel had just finished up at the stables when he heard his name being called.

“Mr. Joel! Wait!”

He barely had time to turn before Lucy skidded to a stop in front of him, red-faced from the cold, her scarf trailing behind her.

Joel blinked down at her. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“Nope!” she beamed. Then, without another word, she shoved a handmade Valentine into his hands.

Joel frowned, glancing down at it. The card was lopsided, the edges trimmed with uneven bits of lace. A few hearts were drawn in the corners, scribbled in crayon, and right in the center, in big, careful letters—

Happy Valentine’s Day, Joel!

And at the bottom—Love, (Y/N)

Joel’s entire body locked up.

Lucy rocked on her heels, beaming at him like she’d just handed him gold.

He stared at the card. His grip tightened slightly. Then loosened.

“What is this?” he asked, voice gruff.

“A Valentine,” Lucy chirped, looking far too pleased with herself. “Miss (L/N) made it for you.”

Joel blinked. “She… what?”

Lucy nodded eagerly, her braids bouncing. “She must really like you. She worked really hard on it.”

Joel opened his mouth. Closed it. Shifted his weight.

He could count on one hand the number of times in his life he’d been genuinely caught off guard. This was one of them.

“Uh—”

“Well, see ya later, Mr. Joel!” Lucy chirped, already spinning on her heel and dashing off.

Joel watched her go, still frozen in place, still holding the damn Valentine like it was a live grenade.

His heart thudded once, heavy in his chest. You had made this? For him?

He glanced down at the card again before his feet carried him towards the school.

____________

You had just stepped out of the schoolhouse, wrapping your scarf tighter around your neck as the cold breeze nipped at your cheeks. The day was already starting to fade, the sun slipping lower behind the rooftops, casting long, golden shadows over the snow-covered streets.

As you locked up the door, you heard footsteps crunching in the frost behind you.

You sighed, already turning. “Did you forget someth—”

The words caught in your throat. It wasn’t one of the kids.

It was Joel.

He was holding a familiar lopsided Valentine's card in one hand, gripping it like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.

Your stomach flipped.

Joel shifted, his jaw working like he was debating something. His other hand was stuffed deep in his jacket pocket, his shoulders tense like he’d rather be anywhere else—but his feet weren’t moving.

You frowned. “Joel?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, lifting the card slightly. “You, uh… you make this?”

Your eyes flickered to the crumpled Valentine, the sight of your own name scrawled at the bottom in a handwriting that definitely wasn’t yours.

It took all of two seconds to piece it together.

Your lips parted in realization. Lucy. That little menace.

The laugh bubbled up before you could stop it, slipping past your lips, a warm contrast against the chilly air. “Oh, Joel.” You shook your head, biting back a grin.

Joel’s frown deepened. “That a yes or a no?”

You grinned, arms crossing. “It’s a no. But I know who did.”

Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Lucy.”

“Bingo.”

He let out a heavy sigh, raking a hand through his hair. “Jesus Christ.”

You laughed again, watching as he stared down at the card like it had personally offended him.

“She told me you made it,” he muttered, like he still wasn’t sure if he was being messed with.

“Yeah, sounds like Lucy,” you mused, shaking your head. “She’s got a bit of a matchmaking streak.”

Joel grunted. “Figured that out real quick.”

You smirked. “So. What’d you think?”

He blinked. “What?”

“The card,” you teased. “You seemed pretty torn up about it. For a second, I thought you wanted me to make you one.”

Joel scoffed, but the tips of his ears had gone pink.

“I wasn’t torn up about nothin’,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders like he could physically shake off the flustered energy clinging to him.

You just tilted your head, watching him.

He huffed, stuffing the card back into his pocket like it was evidence of something, like he needed to get rid of it but couldn’t quite bring himself to toss it.

That warmth curled low in your stomach again. Because for all his grumbling, for all his attempts to brush this off, there was one simple fact he wasn’t acknowledging.

He’d come all the way here to ask you.

Just to be sure.

The thought made your heart skip.

You stepped a little closer, voice softer now. “Well… if you wanted one, you could’ve just asked.”

Joel’s breath hitched, just barely. His fingers flexed at his sides, like he was stopping himself from doing something—stepping back, stepping closer.

You bit your lip, smiling. “Next year, maybe I’ll make you a real one.”

Joel swallowed, the muscle in his jaw ticking. Then, after a long beat—

“Yeah,” he muttered, barely audible. “Maybe.”

Then, before you could say anything else, he turned, muttering something under his breath as he stomped off into the snow.

You watched him go, his broad frame cutting through the snow, shoulders tense like he was trying to shake off something that had crawled under his skin.

Maybe that was the problem because you didn’t want him to shake it off.

Not this time.

“Joel.”

He didn’t stop.

You took a step forward, heart pounding. “Wait.”

His pace quickened, boots crunching against the frozen ground, as if putting more space between you would make this whole thing disappear.

Your stomach twisted. “Joel!”

He let out a sharp breath and finally stopped, turning on his heel so fast you nearly ran into him.

“What?” His voice was gruff, a little too sharp, like he was already regretting stopping.

The look on his face made you hesitate—jaw tight, lips pressed into a firm line, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. But you swallowed past the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to speak.

“Why… why are you upset?”

Joel scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck, his breath curling into the cold air. “Because a damn kid embarrassed me.”

You frowned. “No, I mean—”

“And because you think it’s funny.”

“I—Joel, that’s not—”

“And because—”

“Will you just shut up for a second?”

The words snapped out before you could stop them, your voice louder than intended.

Joel blinked. His mouth shut, brow furrowing as he stared at you, caught off guard.

Your heart pounded, breath shaky, but you had already started. No going back now.

“I’m not laughing at you,” you said, your voice steadier now. “I’m frustrated because you’re too damn stubborn to see what’s right in front of you.”

Joel didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

So you pressed on.

“I like you, Joel.” The words tumbled out before you could second-guess them. “I have for a while. And maybe Lucy saw it before you did, but hell—I see it too. In the way you look at me. The way you show up for me. The way you’re standing here, right now, instead of walking away like I know you want to.”

A long, heavy, unbearable silence hung in the air. 

Joel stepped forward.

It was slow and hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he was making the right move, but he was. He always had been.

His hand lifted, rough fingers brushing against your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was warm, careful, lingering longer than it needed to.

His voice was quieter when he spoke. “You ain’t wrong.”

Your breath hitched.

Joel exhaled sharply, looking down for a moment before lifting his gaze back to yours. “I—” He stopped, shook his head slightly, as if the words wouldn’t come out right. But then, finally—“I like you too.”

The words were gruff and unpolished but true.

Something cracked open inside you, something warm that had been waiting for this exact moment.

You barely had time to process before Joel was closing the last bit of space between you, his hands framing your face, his lips pressing against yours.

The kiss wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was steady.

Like him.

Like something solid and certain, something that had been there all along, waiting for the right moment to fall into place.

God, you melted into it, your hands grasping at the front of his jacket, pulling him impossibly closer.

Joel let out a quiet breath against your lips, his fingers tightening slightly like he’d been holding himself back for too long and wasn’t sure how to stop anymore.

Neither of you pulled away.

When you finally did, Joel’s forehead rested against yours, his breath warm in the freezing air.

“Guess Lucy was onto somethin’,” you murmured.

Joel huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Little troublemaker.”

You grinned. “Mm. Remind you of anyone?”

His lips brushed against yours, just barely, before he murmured—

“Not a chance, darlin’.”

And then, he kissed you again.

[vi-steponmeplease]

ˋ°•*⁀➷ loser!gf ellie

synopsis: just some random headcanons about what it'd be like to date loser ellie who's js so obsessed with you.

notes: never made any headcanon posts before, so don't mind the setup lmao i have no clue what i'm doing

tw: mostly fluff but there are some smutty hcs (oral — e!receiving)

✧₊⁺ to begin with, ellie defo prefers cozy 'netflix n chill' date nights over dressing up for fancy dinners.

✧₊⁺ cuddling up on the couch with you is something that never fails to make her heart swell, no matter how long you’ve been together.

✧₊⁺ but mostly because it gives her a chance to imagine what domestic life with you might be like—though she’d never admit it, afraid it might seem like she’s moving too fast.

✧₊⁺ she’s a sucker for resting her head on your chest while you thread your fingers through her hair, gently massaging her scalp as the two of you watch some cringey movie you’ll inevitably fall asleep to halfway through.

✧₊⁺ on the rare nights you don’t doze off, ellie grabs her brown acoustic guitar adorned with spongebob stickers and serenades you with a gentle melody while you rest your head on her shoulder.

✧₊⁺ when you’re out with friends, ellie—being the absolute dork she is—seizes the opportunity to practice tricks on her scratched-up skateboard, determined to one day impress you with her skills (even though she can barely land a kickflip without bruising herself)

✧₊⁺ when she eventually heads home with fresh scratches and deep purple bruises on her arms and knees, she does her best to patch herself up and cover them with makeup, hoping you won’t notice.

✧₊⁺ walking around town with ellie is always chaotic, as she can’t help but scream with excitement at the sight of every cat she sees.

✧₊⁺ bonus points if she’s eating chips—she’ll immediately tear open the bag and try to feed the poor animal junk food, no matter how much you explain it’s unhealthy. she just wants the cat to be happy and fed.

✧₊⁺ speaking of cats, she's defo the type to snap 0.5 pictures from every angle, proudly maintaining an entire folder dedicated to her feline encounters.

✧₊⁺ you got her a dino necklace for her birthday, and she’s never taken it off since.

✧₊⁺ ellie also has a whole mini-figure collection of the reptile and loves sending you pictures of two dinos kissing, always captioning them with: us!!

✧₊⁺ this girl lets nothing—absolutely nothing—distract her from a videogame. but the moment you so much as call her name, she’s running to you like a stray dog that just found its owner.

✧₊⁺ sometimes, you sit on her lap as she plays, watching her screen and asking the silliest questions. she always answers with a smile and a soft kiss on your cheek.

"what about there? would you die if you went inside that room?" you ask, your arms draped around her neck as you tilt your head to get a better view of her game.

she chuckles softly, pressing her lips to your jaw before fiddling with the joysticks. "judging by the fact that it’s pitch dark in there, i’d say… probably, yeah."

✧₊⁺ the room eventually falls silent, her focus fully locked on the game. but when she glances down a few moments later, she finds you fast asleep, your head resting on her shoulder, and she can’t help but smile.

✧₊⁺ you’ve never seen a room as messy yet effortlessly aesthetic as ellie’s. somehow, the clutter only adds to her charm and uniqueness.

✧₊⁺ sometimes, as you sit on her bed scrolling through your phone in comfortable silence, ellie sketches little drawings of you.

✧₊⁺ by now, her sketchbook is filled with portraits of you—you’ve become her muse.

✧₊⁺ she used to get shy about showing you her artwork, hesitating before every reveal. but after seeing your excitement over one piece, she proudly gave you a full tour of her sketchbook, secretly basking in the joy of being the reason behind that pretty smile of yours.

✧₊⁺ one time, ellie asked you to press your lipstick-stained lips onto a piece of paper, saying she wanted to create something abstract.

✧₊⁺ that moment quickly escalated into her kissing you with urgency, her lips trailing heated breaths down your neck and collarbone. before you knew it, you were lying on your back, clothes discarded on the floor, as she devoured you like a prisoner savoring a last meal.

✧₊⁺ ellie had never tasted pussy before, but she didn’t need any frame of reference. she’ll always insist yours is the best she could ever have.

✧₊⁺ she’s a soft dom, big on praise—even when you’re the one between her legs.

ellie’s head falls back against the wall, a low groan slipping from her lips as your tongue flicks against her clit. you wrap your lips around the sensitive bud, watching her face contort with pleasure.

“fuck, baby. just like that,” she grunts, her hand threading into your hair and tugging gently to bring you closer. “you’re doing so good.”

✧₊⁺ in the end, ellie is just a hopeless loser who’s madly in love with you and would do anything to make you happy.

[misserabella]

c*m hub

ellie williams x fem! reader

💋making cash and making love!

cw; +18 content, minors dni!!, dom! ellie, sub! reader, use of sex platform, strap on sex (r! receiving), hair pulling, choking, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, begging, praising, teasing, daddy kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, praise, pussy slaps, messy sex, oral sex (r! receiving), mouth fucking w fingers (r! receiving), degradation…

old collab w/ @abbyscherry that got taken down. thanks again for this amazing work love!!❤️

KEEP TALKING ABOUT PALESTINE! BOYCOTT THOSE WHO LET THIS GENOCIDE HAPPEN!

how you can help

“yeah just like that baby, oh fuck. bounce on my cock.” your moans were filling your room, one of ellie’s hands on your ass, guiding you up and down on her strap, fucking you so deep you could feel it on your cervix. “so fucking good for me. taking my cock so good…”

you slammed your hips harder down against her own, making her groan as the back of the strap rubbed against her clit.

“that’s it. ride my dick. atta fucking girl…” you whimpered. the image was so dirty, ellie pointing at your pussy swallowing her strap hole with her phone, your white cream dripping down the length of her cock onto the base on a white ring. ellie could almost taste it on her tongue. taste you. maybe if you were a good girl for her she could clean you all up later. “she’s greedy huh? greediest fuckin’ pussy i’ve ever seen” you moaned, fucking yourself harder onto her, your thighs burning. you couldn’t stop. it felt so good…

“els” you whimpered softly, your weak arms wrapped around her neck, your nimble fingers sliding through her damp hair, tugging just enough to tear a grunt from her lips.

“come on baby speak up, what do you want? you want me to fuck you open for all of them to see?” her deep voice muttered against the skin of your neck, sucking a bruise that you’d proudly wear for everyone to see. her eyes latched onto your beautiful breasts, bouncing with every little jump you took on her cock.

“daddy—”

ellie couldn’t help but smirk, her auburn eyebrows curving.

“daddy, huh?” she chuckled, seeing your cheeks turn red. “that’s right baby, i’m your fucking daddy.” her hips thrusted upwards, making you let out the most wonderful moan she has ever heard as the tip of her cock reached your most sensitive spots. “what do y’all think? should daddy give it to her?” she asked to those who were watching her stream, smirking at the donations and money coming through saying that yes, she should totally fuck your brains out.

wordlessly, you’re nodding your head against hers, not even looking at the donations that endlessly flow, and your lips are pressing random kisses to her neck. The sounds of your small ‘yes yes yes’ chants echoing in her ears.

ellie chuckled. “y’all are too good to her. does she deserve it though? do you deserve it babygirl?” she asked, low, sultry. you could cum just by the sound of her voice.

“please daddy, i’ll be good. i’ll be a good girl.” you begged.

“course you will baby, look at you. fucked out and dumb on my cock already”

“want it. want all of it.” your pleading puppy eyes stared into her greenish ones, grinding yourself down with her cock deep inside of you, making your mind and vision dizzy. it felt so good. to feel her like this.

“yeah? you want it?” you nodded, your back arching as one of her hands came up to your chest to cup your right tit, thumb and index pinching your nipple. “then lay on your back for me, baby.” she slightly pushed you until you were falling on your back, whimpering when you felt her cock slide out of your aching and soaked pussy. you needed her back in. needed her deep. as deep as she could reach.

your eyes were wide but hooded, your body shivered as her fingers trailed down your stomach, across your hip bones and between your legs, where she aimed the phone closer, giving them a good view of your pussy. those hazel green eyes focused on the screen, mouth watering at the sight of her fingers so effortlessly peeling apart your folds, groaning out a soft “fuck” as she watches your hole clench around nothing, your slick dripping. “look at her, i told ya, so fuckin’ needy for more” she rasps out.

a scream rips your throat at the slap she gives to your cunt, making your back arch.

“she really needs it, huh?” next thing you felt? her cock gliding through your folds, teasing you, bumping against your clit. it was so fucking big and thick it always hurt to take it, but it hurt so good… you wanted her to break you over and over again after the first time she filled you up with it, begging her to go harder, to use you. and she had. so good.

you cried out. “that’s it baby. let them hear you.”

“please daddy, please…”

she clicked her tongue. “nuh-uh baby. don’t beg me. beg them.” she smirked, pointing the camera at your face. the chat went crazy at your fucked out expression and teary eyes.

you gulped, staring right into the camera. “please. fuck me please.” you whined, moaning when ellie’s hips thrusted against your cunt, the tip of her cock rubbing against your puffy throbbing clit.

“so fucking needy” she grits out, one hand gripping your hip, and the other still holding the phone somewhat still. “i might as well give it to her, don’t y’all think?” she smirked at the positive comments. and you let out a gasp when she slid in in a quick and harsh thrust, all the way to the base.

“fuck!” you screamed. “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cried out as she started to slowly fuck you on her cock, her hips moving so swiftly.

“thaaats it. taking it so good. nice and deep baby.” you were a moaning mess. you were so full.

“ ‘s too big! too big!” you whimpered, feeling your walls squeezing the silicone. ellie groaned. she believed she could feel you, sucking her right in.

“too big baby? is my cock too big for your little pussy?” she inquired. “look at you, whining about it yet you’re milking me dry. fuck” the back of the strap was rubbing against her clit. “look so good taking it, honey. such a good girl for daddy.” you moaned. one of her hands took a grip of your leg, pushing it against your chest, her cock now reaching deeper, kissing your cervix. your eyes rolled back. she was in so deep.

“fuck me, daddy. harder.” you begged, and she groaned.

“fucking slut. can’t get enough of my cock, can you?” a harsh thrust had you screaming. “you want it baby? want me to break this pretty little pussy open on my dick?” you nodded. “words.” she spat, and your lips parted.

“yes! yes please, daddy.”

scoffing under her breath, she mutters out something along the lines of ‘just a dirty girl’ or ‘too dumb to think’ you weren’t exactly sure anymore, not with how good her cock felt— how good she felt. “look at you, fuckin’ taking my cock so well, shit” She chokes out, the hand she has on your leg, gripping harder. “made to take my fuckin’ cock”

“can’t! els s’too much, please” you wail, fingernails bluntly digging into her arm, leaving crescent moons in your wake.

“stop being a cry baby and fucking take it.” she grunted, pistoning inside you. the chat was going crazy at the sight of your pussy sucking in her cock, the silicone drenched in your juices. you were screaming at this point. “so fucking loud.” she groaned, stuffing two of her fingers down your throat. “there. you just needed something to keep that pretty little mouth of yours busy with, hm? come on darling, open up.” you followed, open up further for her and relaxing your throat, gagging when she pushed them even deeper. “thaats it. gag on my fingers, doll.” there was spit dribbling down your chin as she abused your mouth and cunt. you felt so full. your eyes welled up with tears, they flickered between her hazel green ones and the camera that was capturing the lewd image of your cunt swallowing her whole. “fuck. wanna fuck a baby into you, doll. wanna fill you up. wanna leave you dripping for a week with my cum.”

your cunt clenched around her cock, humming in agreement around her fingers at her obscene words. ellie simply chuckles at the way you continue to gag on her fingers, unable to say anything other than making gargled sounds of agreement. “course you’d want that, to be round with my kids, huh? feel my cum filling your pussy, hm?”

the thought of it alone had you whimpering around her fingers, tears rolled uncontrollably down your already tear stained cheeks as you nodded your head as quick as lightening. “yeah, i’ll make you a mama— fuck. you’ll make the prettiest mama, all swollen with my kids. maybe i’ll fuck two into you, hm? would you like that baby? give me twins? make me a daddy?”

all you could really do was nod pathetically. “answer me.” she grunted, pulling her fingers out of your mouth, making you whimper. you missed them.

“yes, yes, please yes…”

“such a dirty little slut” you whined, your hips pushing against the harsh thrust that she gave you, seeking more.

“give it to me daddy. please give me your cum.” ellie moaned, fucking you harder. needier.

the wet squelches of your pussy taking her cock were filling the room along with your choked out moans. knowing that thousands of people were actually watching you right now as ellie fucked the conscience out of you had your cheeks glowing a beautiful crimson.

you could feel that well-known devastating warmth spreading on your stomach, feeling pressure on your spine. you started bucking your hips against hers, seeking for her to reach deeper. you looked desperate. like an animal in heat. maybe you were. so desperate to cum you were trembling. shaking under her hold. the pings of donations were deafening. “you hear that baby? hear how much they want you? but you’re mine, aren’t you? fucking mine.” you nodded. “say it.”

“i’m yours. yours daddy, yours.” you slurred, feeling cock drunk. so close to cumming. your cunt was pulsing. she could almost feel it.

“you gonna cum, baby? gonna milk my cock, hm?” you moaned. “yeah that’s right. tight fucking pussy. my pussy. my fucking pussy.”

“wanna make you a daddy” you hiccup. “i’ll make you a daddy” that only makes her fuck you faster, harder, cutting off your moans with every thrust. “ellie, gonna… gonna cum!” you somehow managed to babble in between sobs and whimpers.

“yeah, fucking right.” she moaned, feeling her own high approaching by the way the back of the strap rubbed her swollen and throbbing clit. quickly removing her hand and grip on your leg, she places the same hand lightly around your throat, enjoying the way your eyes widen. “gonna give it to daddy, baby?” she chuckled, fingers twitching against your neck.

you nodded, using your own hand to put more pressure on hers. “more…”

the noise she made was somewhere between a breathless chuckle or grunt, you weren’t really sure but she inhaled sharply through her nose. “you really are fuckin’ dirty aren’t you?” she growled, fingers tightening around your neck just enough to have your lips parting and back arching. the lack of air in your lungs only turned you on even more. “c’mon pretty, give it to daddy like the good girl you are” she didn’t have to ask twice. before you know it moans were spilling from your lips as your walls choked her cock, pulsing and creaming all over the silicone as she fucked you through it, camera focused on the way your cum dribbled out of your hole. “good girl. good fucking girl.” she grunted, feeling her high approaching by just the sight alone. “fuck. gonna cum baby. gonna cum inside this tight little pussy. gonna fuck a baby into you. fuck, fuck, fuck!” she moaned. you begged for it. tears swelling in your eyes.

“inside daddy please, cum inside!” you whimpered, feeling her thrust one, two, three more sloppy times before she was grunting and cumming all over her strap.

“fuuuuuuck.” she groaned, fucking herself through it, using you like a little fuck toy. you moaned when she finally stilled, breathing ragged and hazel eyes glasses over in lust.

the pings of donations wouldn’t stop coming. fuck. she was gonna spoil the shit out of you after this.

and maybe she could start now.

“take the phone.” she ordered, handing you the it. your shaky hands took it, your vision turning white for a moment as she pulled out of you. you whimpered. feeling empty. you hoped she would fuck you again. even stay inside and let you cockwarm her.

you watched through the screen, the camera was focused on her exposed chest, perky little breasts making your mouth water. you wanted to suck on them. then, she slowly got onto her stomach and in between your legs, hazel eyes staring up at you and into the camera. you bit down onto your lip, spreading your legs wider for her, to what she hummed. she looked at your pussy. at your swollen and glistening pussy, and groaned. “so fucking wet…” you moaned when the feeling of warm spit pooled in between your folds. she was slowly dribbling onto your cunt. her hand found your pussy to spread the wetness around and expose your twitching hole just to spit on it. you whined, your hips bucking against her face, what made her chuckle. “eager, aren’t we?” and then her tongue was on you, and you were moaning, the phone tilting upwards as your grip staggered. she sucked on your clit and let go with a pop, her free hand coming up to straighten the camera for you. “keep it still or i’ll stop.” she threatened, and your eyes rolled back. there it was. that sultry voice of her that made you drip.

the hand that wasn’t holding onto the phone threads through her auburn hair, tugging just enough that she hums into your pussy, willingly letting you push her head closer. your breath shaky as you continue to watch her eagerly slurp and suck at your folds through the little cracked screen. “sweetest pussy i’ve ever tasted”

you were looking at the chat, reading the messages that the people posted as ellie slowly yet hungrily ate you out. you were biting on your lip, rocking your hips against her face, making her grunt. she looked at the camera, licking you up from hole to clit, sucking on it and making you moan. you knew she was doing it for you, to rile you up.

“fuck, ellie.” you sighed as she suckled on your clit, slurping up your slick and kissing your folds. “your fingers. your fingers please.” you pleaded. and she moaned, one of her fingers quickly finding your entrance and prodding against it, teasing you. “daddy, please.. i’ve been so good”

“you guys think she has? think she’s been good enough for daddy?” the comments filled the screen, the donations ringing. ellie grinned against your folds. she knew what that meant. “well then…” and suddenly she was pushing her middle finger in, making you gasp.

“fuck!” you cried out, your hips bucking against her face to push her deeper. she continued lapping at your pussy, looking at your expressions. she loved to se you fall apart under her tongue.

“yeah?” she inquired. she knew she was good. “that good, huh?” she teased, curling her finger against your g spot.

your fingers tangled tighter in her hair, nails scratching at her scalp. “so good daddy, always” you knew this only riled her up more, made her needier for you. she was thrusting against the sheets, rutting her puffy clit and soaked pussy against the back of her strap for some friction as she pushed in a second finger. you sighed. “yes, fuck. yes just like that.” she hummed as you cried out, feeling your second orgasm of the night approaching at great speed. “gonna cum again, oh fuck, gonna cum again!” you whimpered, and she went faster, sucked harder on your clit.

“i know, can feel it. pussy’s squeezing around my fingers, fuck” she groans hoarsely. “let daddy have it yeah? c’mon, please” she’s begging. groaning when your legs tighten around her head, keeping her caged in.

it’s happening before you can even ask her to cum, like you normally would. your fingers gripping her hair so tightly that she’s hissing, the movements of her tongue and fingers still fucking into you at a hard pace.

she devours you. eats you up. slurps on your cum and satiates herself. you always taste like fucking heaven.

both your worlds disconnect for a moment. you forget about the stream, and almost about breathing as you ride out your orgasm, thighs shaking at the sides of ellie’s face. and when you both come to your senses, you’re spent. and now thousands of dollars richer.

and maybe and just maybe, once the stream is over, you two fuck for hours on end. this time for yourselves, until you’re both passing out on each other’s arms and with cum in between your thighs.

“love you, els”

“i love you, baby”

-

a/n; hi babies, i’ve missed you so much! have a couple of works on drafts for you so you’ll be hearing from me soon :))

also ty so so so so much for the 9k followers i’m so happy i don’t deserve y’all😭❤️

[s-4pphics]

candy crush. (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you’re too sweet, and ellie hates it. 

WORD COUNT: 4.3K

WARNINGS: recordshopmanager!ellie, crumblcookiebaker!oc, hurt/comfort, ellie’s a cunt, ocs too sweet, FLUFF?? FROM ME??? HUHHH, crushing, slight suggestive thoughts

A/N: idk where this came from lol

Ellie’s reorganizing the vinyl selection when a delicate hand lands on her shoulder. “I know your miserable ass doesn’t enjoy company,” Dina hisses in her ear, purposefully hushed, “But you got company.” 

Ellie’s eyebrow quirks with confusion, leaving the earplug that blasts Head like a Hole to dangle over her shoulder. Her eyes glaze over the semi-filled shop, narrowing in on every face until she locks eyes with you from behind the guitar displays. The eye contact only lasts about 1.5 seconds before Dina smacks her leg. 

“Don’t look. You’re gonna make it weird.” Dina quietly snaps from beside her, occupying her hands with some misplaced records. 

“You know her?” 

“I see her around sometimes. I think she works nearby,” Ellie catches her smirking from the corner of her eye, “… I think she likes you.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“I’m dead serious. She’s been staring for the past 10.” 

“At who.” 

“At you, dipshit.” 

Ellie can’t help herself. She takes one experimental glance in your direction; discovers you typing away at your device with a black mask pulled down under your chin, bottom lip trapped between your teeth with worry. Your apron and tiny name tag indicates you probably work somewhere close by, but she can’t pinpoint where. You’re too far and her vision is failing.

“Get her numbe—“

Ellie’s head whips to face Dina, “If you don’t shut up, you’re fired.” 

“Abuse of power,” She snarks in return, “C’mon! She seems so—“

“D-Do you guys have any acoustics for sale?” 

You’re a ninja, for sure. Both girls' heads snap around to face you — who stands a bit too close for Ellie’s liking — phone desperately clutched to your chest and eyes wide as a doe. Mainly locked with Ellie’s before they drop to your name tag.

Crumbl. 2 shops down. 

Fuck. 

“Why, yes!” Dina says excitedly when Ellie doesn’t reply, “Most of ours have been used, but they’re still in great condition. Are you interested in renting or purchasing?” 

“Purchasing… I think.” 

“No problem. I can show you some that we have on display, and if you don’t like those, we have some stocked in the back!” 

Ellie’s forehead creases. Dina has never been this active in making a sale, let alone interacting with any customers. Ellie is always the one who’s forced to pick up her and Riley’s slack in the shop. She catches the light traces of disappointment that overtakes your expression at Dina’s interjection, but eventually, you’re led over to the guitar displays.

Ellie sighs in relief. 

That brief exchange gave Ellie everything she needed to know. She doesn’t find gratification in denying proposals at work, but after months of being hit on by a multitude of customers — the men particularly piss her off— she’ll be as stern as she needs to be to get the point of denial across. Sure, it makes her look like a cunt to the general public, but she’ll take that over being chased after on the clock. No questions asked. 

Ellie assumes that you’ve found what you needed because on your way out, persistent stares are thrown in her direction up until your departure. She dodges them with mastery. 

She would hate to have to embarrass a strip neighbor. 

Three days later, you stumble upon the record shop once more. Dina isn’t here to save Ellie this time, and Riley’s passing time in the break room. Your uniform is lightly dusted with white, presumably flour, and your mask is down, phone clutched to your chest like it holds all your secrets.

Your mouth drops open around a small smile when you approach the service counter, but Ellie interrupts before you can greet her. 

“What can I help you with?” 

She assumed her annoyance would be guarded by professionalism, but your smile drops at its corners at her tone. A light flinch that Ellie prays is enough to deter you from spending your breaks here. 

It doesn’t. Your eyes still shine like the star that you aren’t. 

“I, um… I actually wanted to talk to you. If that’s okay—“

“Is it regarding the purchase you made a few days ago?” 

Dina slid Ellie a notice on the down payment you made for your used dreadnought since you weren’t able to pay in full. The scolding she received about “taking care of you” whenever you returned made her teeth grind together. 

“N-No. I just—“

“I’d appreciate it if we kept the conversation about that,” Ellie uses the scribbles on her notepad as a distraction, “Did you have any questions regarding the instrument? Or if you’re interested in taking part in the lessons we offer, I could redirect you to Riley. She’s in charge of—“

“I just wanted to see if you were… interested in sampling out some cookie flavors I came up with? I’m a baking and pastry student and—“

“Look,” The tip of Ellie’s tongue sharpens into her cheek, irritation evident when you two are eye-to-eye. “I’m not sure where this proposal is coming from, but frankly, I’m not interested.”

The drop in your expression doesn’t stop Ellie’s relentlessness. 

“I don’t know you, and I don’t know why you thought I’d be a good candidate for… taste-testing, but I’ll politely decline. No thanks.” 

Her declination doesn’t sound polite in the slightest; quite snippy and condescending from your perspective, and it forces your windpipe shut. Only for a second before a strangled gasp leaves your lips. You’re not sure if it’s out of shock or lack of breath, but it aches in your lungs all the same. 

Ellie’s glare sends holes through your back as you rush towards the exit, the small bell singing through the store and alarming your leave. 

All Ellie can hope is that you got the message. 

It’s a new week, and therefore, a new Crumbl cookie line-up. Dina won’t stop raving about the carrot-cake cookie which doesn’t resemble a cookie at all. It's tiered and way too soft and stacked with icing that’s sweet enough to rot teeth from the gum. 

It reminds Ellie of you, for some reason; Somehow still managing to be a nuisance without trying. 

Even more so now since Dina’s been using her 45 to walk down and see you. To talk to you. Dina has yet to cough up what about — not that Ellie cares. It’s just weird that you two suddenly have so much in common after knowing each other for all of two days maximum. Whenever Dina clocks back in, she tortures Ellie with dramatic retellings of your stories. 

It’s Thursday; a quiet day for the shop that Ellie uses to her advantage when the sun is at its peak. Searching through cheap magazines and playing Candy Crush on her phone. 

What a time for you to come barreling in. The formerly enjoyable shriek of guitar suddenly sounds like nails on a chalkboard at your appearance. No longer are you in all black. You’re in a sundress. An orange one. You look like a popsicle. 

And you bear gifts. Ellie’s mood turns even more sour when she sees two bright yellow gift bags with smiley faces on them and a tray filled with coffee stuffed in your hands. 

“Good morning!” 

You’re smiling, gleaming, and Ellie’s nose turns up. She plucks one of her earplugs out and closes her graphic novel. 

“How can I help you?” 

You set your bag down on the display case of her prized arch top, and she sighs in exasperation. Annoyance sparks when she notices one of the bags has her name on it, flowers and hearts and sparkles surrounding the tag. 

“Can you not put your belongings on the displays, please? I’d have to clean up after you since none of my employees will.” 

You’ve already moved your bags and exclaimed apologies before Ellie could finish her sentence. She’s seconds away from shoving her earplug back in to tune you out, but you’re fast. Persistent. She hates it.

“I’m really sorry about that,” You say gently, and Ellie shrugs you off, “I, um. I-I came to, uh…”

Ellie blinks rapidly, “If you’re here to apologize for last week, don’t bother. It’s not needed.” 

“Not at all! Well, I’m just… I wanted to drop by and—“

“You’ve gotten quite comfortable with just… dropping by. Have you realized that?” 

Ellie’s squint is harsh and scrutinizing, and sorrow overshadows the light in your pupils. 

“Since it’s obvious that you’re not understanding me, I’ll put it like this,” She leans a bit over the counter, front fully pressed against the glass and palms resting on the stainless steel, “I’m not interested in anything you have going on. Stop using your breaks as an excuse to come see me. I don’t wanna go out with you. And I don’t want to do a taste test. Drop it already.” 

Ellie watches your lip quiver with a harshness exclusive only for people like you, tears welting in your eyes and your fingers pinching at the hem of your sundress. Insecurity is practically seeping from your pores, and your gaze drops shamefully to the floor. 

Ellie’s just about to tell you to kick rocks when the STAFF ONLY door swings open and exposes Riley. Her break ended 20 minutes ago. 

“Hey! You’re early!” 

Ellie scoffs, “No, you’re late—“

“Not you. Be quiet,” She waves her off and smiles at you, who’s smiling back at her with guised genuity. A complete 180 from the you seconds ago. Since when were you and Riley on speaking terms? Friends?

She jogs from behind the stand, “Dina told me you weren’t coming til 3!” Riley throws her arms around your shoulders, and your hands tremble where they rest on her forearms. “Are those the goods?” 

“Yeah!” Your voice sounds heavy. Like you’re guarding a breakdown, “I-I had some time so I stopped by a little early.” 

“I got some to spare til Dee gets here. Hang out with m—“

“Actually!” You intervene shakily, “I have some other drop-offs to make. I really appreciate you guys doing this for me.” 

“Are you sure you can’t stay? Watch me get my Food Network judge on?” Riley suddenly points in Ellie’s direction, “Who knows. Sourpuss might even pop a grin once she tries one.” Ellie’s cheeks run red-hot.

“Sorry, Riley. Maybe next time,” You’re already wobbling towards the exit, “But, please call and tell me what you think! Dina, too! Any feedback is appreciated!” 

“I’m sure they’re delicious, Monster!” Riley compliments playfully, “Text me when you’re home!” 

When the door shuts, Ellie sees Riley’s back stiffen at the sight of you frantically wiping your face through the glass. 

“What the fuck did you do.” 

“I didn’t do shit. She’s loitering.” 

“Lo— Oh my fucking god, you’re an embarrassmen—“

“No, she is. Taking up space for no fucking reason to come and see me. She’s loitering—“

“You’re blowing a fuse over fucking cookie samples?” Riley stares at her like she’s nuts, “And not to burst your self-centered bubble, but I told her to come. She’s been asking all the stores on the block if they’d like to taste ‘em.”

Ellie pauses, expression softening only slightly when Riley continues, 

“I told her you don’t like chocolate, so she made a peanut butter version for you.” Riley shakes Ellie's special, slightly smaller bag as a means to taunt her, and the freckled girl’s face burns red. Glows even harsher when her friend throws in, “You cunt. She’s a sweetheart. Not everyone is fucking obsessed with you.” 

Riley leaves Ellie to simmer in her discomfort, slamming the break door shut. The day seems to drag on longer than usual. 

-

-

-

Ellie’s organizing the break room when she comes across her small baggie that Riley left behind. She would’ve expected her friend to take them home after Ellie’s dramatic blow up, but there it sat on the counter, untouched and jeering. 

Tempting enough for her to rest the broom against the counter and inspect its contents. Wafts of cinnamon and peanut butter hit her through the small opening of the bag, and her heart gives a squeeze. The cookie is iced to perfection — an entire scenery on the light brown canvas. So many flowers and trees and the blue hues of the sky; almost too much detail. It looks printed on. 

You’re artistically talented and the cookie smells divine. 

One nibble wouldn’t hurt. She’s sure the damage she caused is already irreversible. 

But when she cradles the carefully swaddled cookie, a small note falls from beneath the bunched cling wrap. She knows she shouldn’t. She should really, really leave the neatly folded piece of paper where it lays. Down the cookie. Trash the bag. 

She takes the cookie and the note back to her seat at the table. The cookie isn’t what she unravels first. 

“thought I’d make you a separate batch. Riley gave me the heads up about your chocolate disdain. I’m too paranoid to ask for your number in person, so I thought I’d use bait instead. I hope it’s convincing enough. Please let me know if it’s decent. Thank you for tasting.”

Signed with your name and a smiling heart with wings. Ellie’s heart shatters, remaining shards dangling from the rim of her ribcage. She can already see her friends glaring through her chest when they visit the apartment to berate her tomorrow morning. She already knows what they’re going to demand from her, but she’s three steps ahead. 

She ate the entire cookie in two bites right where she sat. It was delicious. Almondy, not too sweet, gently spiced. Probably the best she’s ever had.

Ellie has never been to Crumbl before. 

The viral spot is always bustling — too crowded and filled with loud teenagers with a sugar rush for her taste. Plus, she’s already on the clock when they first open. But the record shop is closed on Fridays. 

She put an extra bit of care into her appearance. She doesn’t recall the last time she did her hair. Half of it is pinned up and her button-up is neatly pressed. Jitters rustle in the pit of her stomach and her forehead is a bit damp, mainly because she can see you through the goddamn window. 

In uniform, you stand at the register with the same beaming smile from last week, talking and giggling with your coworkers, and Ellie instantly feels guilty. Your day seems off to a great start, and here she is… About to ruin it. She almost turned around at the thought. 

But the small bell above the door blares loud, and your bright smile drops once you recognize her, and with that, her stomach. Ellie mentally notes the bags forming under your eyes and the tension in your shoulders. It looks like you haven’t rested for days. Her heart squeezes. 

Your movements turn robotic; stiffly perched on the sides of the iPad stand as your thumb works on the screen. You haven’t looked Ellie’s way since. She approaches the counter with her tail between her legs, fidgeting with her middle finger. 

“Um… hey.” Ellie’s quiet. Out of place. Afraid. 

“What can I get for you?” 

Even with the stiffness, you somehow still manage to sound as soft as a cotton ball, but Ellie’s body locks. The scenario hits her like a brick wall; she’s doing exactly what she accused you of doing to her last week. Bothering her at fucking work. She should’ve never come to your place of business to coddle her ego. She feels like a hypocrite. You certainly see her as one. 

“Um… A cookie?”

“… What flavor.” 

“Uh… peanut butter?” 

You swallow thickly, voice hollow, “That’s not on the menu for this week,” You point towards the display of cookies that were big enough to feed a family, “These are the six we’re serving until Sunday. You can also look at the menu on the screen.” 

Ellie follows your pointing finger. How the fuck does this place work? Weekly flavors? What the fuck does that mean? She quickly examines the names of cookies that flash across the screen: raspberry cheesecake, pink velvet… Mom’s recipe? Odd name for a dessert but she lets it slide. 

“W-What’s your favorite?” 

You’re a baker, for fucks sake. You’d have better taste than anyone, better than her, she’d painfully admit. 

She watches your fingers clench around the screen, tapping mindlessly. 

“Um… raspberry cheesecake.” 

“I’ll get a dozen.” 

“O-Of the same flavor?” 

She shrugs like it’s obvious, “… Yup.” 

You give her one skeptic look before tapping at the screen. “It might be a little wait. About 15 minutes. Do you mind?” 

“No.” 

“Cash or card?” 

“Card, please.” 

More tapping, “That’ll be $41.65. Swipe or tap whenever you're ready.” 

A financial dent over a box of cookies was not on her bucket list. You hand her the receipt, and before you can rush to the kitchen, Ellie exclaims, “When’s your break?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“W— um, when’s your break?” 

Your coworkers are suddenly very interested in Ellie, all four of them eyeing her like venomous hawks. Her cheeks burst into flames. 

“Um… I don’t think that’s any of your concern.” 

And you’re right. Anything involving you is short on Ellie; it was never her business, but a burning in the pit of her stomach desires to learn. Needs to catch you at the right time to give you a proper apology even though she doesn’t deserve the time of day. She doesn’t know what to say. 

You use her floundering as a scapegoat and hustle behind the slamming doors. Just as Ellie rushes to leave empty-handed, one of your employees — Abigail reads across her name-tag, keeps professional, but Ellie’s skin burns with the fire in her eyes. 

“We’ll have those right out for you,” monotone, but gruff. It makes Ellie wonder if you told any of them about her — she doesn’t doubt it. 

“You can wait outside.” 

One stiff nod, and Ellie’s booking it until her feet plant on the packed sidewalk, nearly bumping into a couple with interlocked hands. It takes 25 minutes for the box of cookies to be rigidly placed on the lounge table by another employee. Ellie scurries into her truck with a boiling face and pulls out into the road. 

When she makes it to her apartment, she eats three mini cheesecakes in one sitting.

She sees why they’re your favorite. 

The following week was filled with glares and curses from Dina and Riley — your newfound friends, evidently. They have a way of making Ellie feel like a worthless dunce. They both have rubbed in the tales of you being a thrill to be around; the life of the party whenever they hang out. 

It makes her nauseous. And sad. 

But her sadness swiftly shifts to bewilderment when she catches you smoking near a lamppost after closing. Still in your uniform with a bag over your shoulder, pants dusted in white, proof of your labor. It’s dark out, the only illumination coming from the light stood tall above you and the orange gleam of your cigarette. The sight shocks her. You didn’t seem like the type. 

Maybe that’s where Ellie went wrong with you: constantly assuming… who you are. Your desires, your intentions with her, her friends. She’ll admit her wrongs, of course. 

But it has to be to you. 

Ellie scares you when she approaches, inhaling the nicotine a bit too roughly because you start heaving. Shoulders hunched and jumping with every cough. 

“Uh — fuck, I’m sorry! I-I thought you could see me coming! I didn’t mean — fuck —“

You’re still choking, but you hiss in between, “What the fuck do you want!” 

“I’m just — I’m sorry about —“

“You’re not — cough — you’re not sorry! You made your point clear. I don’t why you keep — cough cough — following me. I left you alone like you wanted!” 

“I DON’T WANT THAT!” Ellie shrieks in panic. 

It’s a heavy-handed admission. A weighted confession that was said too aggressively given your flinching away from her. She takes an instinctive step forward. 

“Your cookies… tasted fucking incredible. I’m also an asshole.” 

The drag you take from your cig while she rambles is almost comedic. Brows cinched at the middle of your forehead, gauging her. You’re not convinced, but you’re not fleeing like the first time. She takes a leap, and a large step towards you. 

“I feel really… really bad,” Ellie’s much quieter, eyes unwavering and the softest she’s ever shown you, “I shouldn’t have… said all that. To you. I’m just so used to being harassed at work. I’m sorry.” 

Maybe nicotine calms you. Your body language isn’t as taut compared to when Ellie first initiated conversation, and your eyes soften at her reasoning. 

The rasp from your timbre melts her skin like butter. “I didn’t know you went through that. That sucks.”

Ellie shrugs, “I didn’t know you were… nice.” 

She made the mistake of attempting playfulness, “Maybe ‘cuz you wouldn’t let me talk.” You snark while ashing. 

“I’m sorry.” Ellie implores. 

You take one last drag before stomping out the flame. “Me too. For bothering you.” 

Ellie cringes at your choice of words, but nods in acceptance. “Are we, uh… okay, now?”

A small smile grows on your face. It’s cute. Makes your cheeks puff out like a hungry squirrel. 

“We’re good.” You extend a fist out to her, and she connects her own at the knuckles. 

When they drop, Ellie nervously stares at her shoes, “Do you want a ride home?” 

“I’m alright, thanks.” 

“C’mon, I don’t want you waiting out here by yourself.”

You pause before asking, “What’s the catch?” Your brow arches mischievously.

Ellie doesn’t hesitate, “More of those cookies.” 

A giggle escapes you. Soft and airy like a feather. Ellie feels a tight clench in her chest. A thumping from her ribcage. Has your smile always been this vibrant? She mentally kicks herself for not noticing before. 

Ellie escorts you to the passenger's side of her passed down pick-up: opens the door for you and makes sure you’re buckled in before starting it up. She learns you’re a metalhead when she cranks the radio to the highest volume. 

… How quickly can crushes develop? 

Two months. Ellie’s spent two months finding every excuse to spend time with you. She welcomes your visits to the record shop and silently thanks the heavens above when you call after her shift to talk about your day. Listening to your rambles about customers and their weekly cookies has become the highlight of hers. 

She’s also found comfort in watching you fail at playing guitar. You’re adorable whenever you strike an incorrect chord or break a string. She’s more than willing to guide you through your trials: late-night invites to her apartment to practice. One of your goals was to learn how to play the entire Vanara soundtrack. 

Ellie assumed she simply enjoyed being in your space. She does, but something shifted between you during one specific session. It was past midnight, and Ellie could tell you were getting tired. She innocently suggested for you to spend the night so you wouldn’t have to Uber at such a late hour, and you graciously accepted her offer. When you started to get comfortable on the couch, she tuts in disapproval and invited you to share her bed because it was more comfortable. 

What a mistake. 

After showering and changing into comfortable clothes, you both crawled into bed and swiftly drifted off. When Ellie’s eyes opened the following morning, her heart immediately traveled up to sit in her throat. If anyone told her she’d wake up with you completely sprawled out on top of her with your warm breath hitting her neck and her arms wrapped around you, she wouldn’t have believed them. She was completely frozen beneath you, but not for the reason she’d assumed. 

Ellie was scared to wake you up. Ellie was scared you would move away from her. 

She was pulled between waking you up and pulling you even closer. You were soft and warm and you smelled like her cinnamon body wash. A literal human cookie. She caressed your back as delicately as she could, and you nuzzled into her shoulder with every swipe. She hoped the harsh thrashes from her heart wouldn’t disturb you. 

They didn’t. 

You took a piece of Ellie when you left her apartment that morning. She’s not sure which part you stole, but she hasn’t felt the same since then. A pull towards you that’s electric, sparks her to life, keeps her up at night. Whenever you’re away, at work, not next to her, she’s desperate to pull you close. To breathe in the natural scent of you. 

Evidently, crushes develop rather quickly. 

“I thought baking was supposed to be fun.” Ellie huffs from where she lays on her bed. 

“It is fun! My favorite past-time, actually,” She watches you pace around her bedroom, guitar still strapped securely around your shoulder, “It’s just stressful when you have chefs constantly breathing down your neck. It’s so hard to be creative because they nitpick everything.” 

Creating a menu is much harder than Ellie assumed. She’s become the person you’ve come to whenever you’re fired up from classes, ranting and raving about the apparent dickheads that judge your creations. After testing your recipes for as long as she has, how could anyone turn down a dessert from you? 

You’re such a hard-worker. Focused, determined… pretty when you’re brainstorming. Pretty when you’re talking… Pretty when you’re smiling. Standing. Staring off into the distance. 

“Hm.” 

It’s all Ellie can say. She’s been trying to mask her rampant stares at your bare thighs for the past… however the fuck long. They look so soft. So pliable. So easy to stretch and pry and yank at— 

Her guilty pleasure went from collecting Pokémon cards to gawking at your legs whenever you wear shorts. 

Ellie’s definitely crushing. 

Crushing very, very hard. 

[tthoroughfare]

trying to make your ex jealous by using ellie as a prop in your ig story hahahaha

she's been in front of your mirror for, like, ten minutes as you direct her on how to stand, how to put her arms around you. you laugh as you cycle through the pictures you'd gotten, ellie looking over your shoulder.

"ellie, these suck. you look so fucking awkward." none of them actually look like you're with a romantic prospect; it's painfully obvious it's set up, ellie craning her neck to hide her face and looking like she's petrified to touch you. you swipe onto a particular picture, zooming in on her hand. "also, in that one you can literally see your tattoo, you gotta pull your sleeve down more."

she automatically tugs at the sleeve of her hoodie, covering the ink swirling down from her wrist. "damn... yes ma'am. didn't realize it was that serious."

"well, otherwise she's gonna know it's you. and that'd be so fucking embarrassing."

she scoffs lightly. "kind of embarrassing faking photos to try and make someone jealous, anyway."

"oh, please. shut up," you retort, rolling your eyes. she'd seemed to be a little grumpy about the whole thing as soon as you asked her to do it:

"this is stupid."

"why does it have to be me? get dina to do it, she'd love this shit."

"you're so cringe."

you get back into position, gesturing at ellie. "m'kay, come back."

she shuffles closer again, hesitantly going to place her hands on your waist.

"this is why they look stupid, your hand placement's wrong." you gently grasp at her wrist, manually moving her right hand upwards and to the side, wrapping her arm further around you and allowing her fingers to rest just below your left breast. "like, you don't look like you wanna fuck me, you're just... standing there like you're at gunpoint."

"yeah, i am," she murmurs, looking down and gingerly pressing herself flush against your back. you ignore the comment, taking the back of her head and pulling it so that her chin's resting on your shoulder.

"don't worry if your face is in it, i'm probably just gonna crop it anyway," you comment as you snap another few photos, placing your hand over hers. she tries not to pay any mind to the way you subconsciously swipe your thumb across the back of her hand, the way it makes her stomach flutter.

you pivot your phone so she can see it whilst you flip through the new photos you'd taken. you're still running your fingertips over her hand, and she doesn't think you even realize you're doing it. "see, these ones are way better. they look way more realistic."

you go to take some more, and ellie hesitantly leans further in, nuzzling at your neck.

"wait, that's good," you begin. "pull your hood up, so i don't have to crop it."

blowing air out of her nose, she does as you say before returning her hand to its original position. she feels a little emboldened, borderline forgetting the whole thing is pretend as she presses a couple of tiny kisses to your neck; stopping when she feels you tense.

you pause before laughing shakily, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "method acting. nice."

ellie awkwardly laughs along, kicking herself mentally. she doesn't even know why she did it, where she mustered the balls. it was automatic.

you take a final couple, then pull away and sit cross-legged on your bed. she tugs her hood down, running a hand through her hair as she sits next to you, peering down at your phone while you flick through all of the photos.

"i think that one," you say when you stop on a particular image, pressing your thumb to the screen in emphasis. "it's hot, and you can't really tell it's you."

ellie pulls a face as she nods. "go for it."

your brow furrows as you notice her expression. "... what's with you?"

she shrugs, mouth downturning. "i don't know, i just think it's kinda stupid. why do you even want her back? she was, like... a dick to you."

"i don't want her back," you reply. "i just want her to see it and be like... 'oh, shit'."

"but, like, still... why are you even thinking about her?"

you sigh lightly, looking down at your phone. "i don't know... she fucked me over a lot, and now she's trying to act like she's doing all great and everything. just wanna give her something to feel... y'know, a little shitty over."

"fair enough," she replies half-heartedly. "i just don't even think you should care. you can do better."

you scoff. "well, it's not exactly happening for me."

she doesn't say anything back, just looks at you and shrugs, toying with her sleeve. there's a slightly uncomfortable feeling in the room as you meet her gaze, one you don't understand.

"so can i post it, or no?"

ellie's hands turn upwards in gesture. "sure."

"right," you respond, opening instagram and getting the picture up to put on your story, flicking through songs and deciding which one to add to it. she moves closer, watching as you do so.

"gotta be clairo," she remarks, to which you chuckle.

you post the photo, and resist the urge to check if your ex has viewed it every five minutes. ellie puts a silly movie on, and you actually manage to forget about it as you make commentary between yourselves, laughing along.

until your phone buzzes; dina's reacted '😂' to your story, and sent you a reply:

"that's ellie 😭😭😭😭😭 you fucking idiot"

you sit up as you open the messages, covering your mouth and scoffing. turning your phone so that ellie can see, you watch her eyes glimmer in amusement as she lets out a laugh.

"i'm taking it down," you say firmly, between giggles.

ellie raises her eyebrows, training her eyes back on the TV. "told you."

[thru-the-grapevine]

[8:25 PM] “Too bad the game got rained out, huh?” Chris grinned as you both slogged, soaking wet, into the entryway of his townhouse. “It was just getting good, too.”

“Ugh” was all you had to say as you attempted to wring out the sopping material of your shirt.

“You can borrow something of mine, c’mon,” Chris said, pressing a quick kiss to your temple and beckoning you to follow him up the stairs.

He could hear his roommates making a racket in their rooms, as usual, as he made his way to his room. So long as they didn’t come out to terrorize you, Chris was fine with the noise. It had taken such a long, careful process of coaxing you out of your shell, and the additional risk of confessing his feelings to you, before you both got to this point. He didn’t want Jisung or Changbin making it harder for you both.

“Do you have something warmer than just a t-shirt?” You asked as Chris closed his bedroom door behind him.

“Yeah, I’ve got sweaters and stuff in my closet, help yourself,” he offered, going over to his dresser to find a clean shirt.

Once he’d changed, his eye caught on the lyrics notebook on his desk. He picked it up, flopping back on his bed and examining the latest page. Where had he left off? He knew this one had been stumping him somewhere.

“Where should I put my wet stuff?” You asked.

“Oh, you can just lay it over my desk…chair…”

Chris set the notebook down slowly and sat up, staring.

You gave him a Look. “Don’t. Don’t you say a word.”

“No, no, like…it’s just,” Chris paused, taking in the sight of you in an oversized light blue sweater he’d completely forgotten he owned. “I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.”

“Yes, well, they were the dry ones,” you said wryly, laying your shirt over the back of his desk chair as instructed.

“Hmm,” Chris said, still staring.

You turned back to him and folded your arms over your chest. “Are you going to be like this every time I wear something of yours? Or even something particularly colorful?”

Chris valiantly fought back a grin. “…No.”

You sighed, sitting next to him on the bed and resting your head on his shoulder. “You’re the worst liar I’ve ever seen.”

“Sorry,” Chris grinned, not sorry at all.

[luffyssa]

i got bored so here's a meme

[ellieslittleslutt]

Random Loser!Ellie Head Cannons ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

MEN DNI!!!

⋆｡°✩ she would send you random videos when she’s at the store or trying new foods, or just when she’s high and needs to ramble about her comics.

⋆｡°✩ speaking of comics, the first time you came over she was so embarrassed of the giant collection she had on display on her shelves. like this girl had to buy another shelf from ikea just so she can display it all.

⋆｡°✩ she’s the type no matter where she’s always touching you. at the grocery store? holding your hand. folding laundry? head in your lap. literally no matter what always in contact.

⋆｡°✩ at night she wears the most ridiculous shirts to bed. she has a shirt with just micheal ceras face on it claiming “babe he’s apart of the family”

⋆｡°✩ her wardrobe is the gayest shit ever. mass mass MASS amount of flannels and graphic tees. also has a weird amount of tank tops and struggles too much picking which to wear. all her pants are either beat up jeans or beat up cargos. takes lots of her clothes from joel.

⋆｡°✩ on her period she’s the biggest baby. gets so clingy too that she’s always cuddling you and even when you’re showering she sits next to the tub while she groans about her cramps.

⋆｡°✩ she claims to her friends that she only listens to grungy ish music never telling them that you guys scream your lungs out to chappell roan.

⋆｡°✩ at night when you’re getting ready for bed she’s up on her nintendo playing pikmin.

“ellie go to sleep”

“but i’m doing a boss fightttt”

⋆｡°✩ she loves watching you get ready for date nights. she pulls up a chair next to the sink while you do your make up and hair just star struck by her girlfriend.

⋆｡°✩ waking up with her she’s always sprawled out arm around your waist snoring as you try to wiggle out to pee and she groans clinging tighter.

⋆｡°✩ definitely send you pictures like this saying “babe this might be us.”

⋆｡°✩ the worst brain rot you’ve ever seen.

⋆｡°✩ she loves taking your chapstick so much that you got her a princess collection for her birthday and unironically uses them daily and loves kissing you while she wears it.

⋆｡°✩ spoils you so much even if it hurts her wallet. when she comes home from a hang out with jesse and dina she always has either a new plushie or trinket for you.

⋆｡°✩ bought you guys matching plushies getting married and keeps them on your sofa next to eachother.

⋆｡°✩ can’t sleep without her stuffed animals next to her.

⋆｡°✩ on the rare occasions she falls asleep before you she’s sleepily rambling to you while your play with her hair watching her eye lids close slowly and her words slur.

⋆｡°✩ loves it when you paint her nails or doodle on her shoes. she also keeps a photo of you and her with lipstick marks all over her face in her phone case and shows it off all the time.

⋆｡°✩ huge loser but you always tell her “you’re my loser”

a/n: i love her sm omg and i finally got around to doing this!? idk i might write again soon or not depends on if i have the energy

[stxrsiren]

ellie williams lookalike contest tonight in my bedroom.

[elliezlils11utt]

my obsession with loser!ellie continues😪 loser!ellie who sneezes before she cums.

🌷♡₊˚ 🌿・₊✧

your hips circle ellies. your puffy clit rubbing right up against hers. her leg is pulled over your shoulder, and you arms are wrapped around it.

“hey, pretty girl how u holding up down there?” you giggle & place a kiss on her forehead. she giggles back. “finish with me?” you ask. she nods with a soft smile. you grind onto her a tad faster, both of your breaths following the pace. ellie’s little huffs sound so sweet for you. as you turn your hips into circular motions, ellie’s face squeezes up and she sneezes. (you’ve figured out this is a tell tail sign shes about to finish) you hold back a another giggle as you ride her through y’all’s orgasm. ever came & laughed at the same time? well finishing with Ellie its literally every time. i mean who couldn’t at least chuckle when you’re silly girl SNEEZES before cumming? its so cute.

“stop laughing” shed huff after y’all came down from your high. you’re collapsed on top of her, sticky skin to sticky skin as you kiss the tip of her nose.

“silly girl,” you tease. placing her glasses back onto her hazed out eyes, she begins to yap about some new stupid hyperfixation. this girl cannot wait to get cleaned up to tell you about all of the lore of this new comic shes read. dork.

~~~

a/n: do yall like this loser!ellie thing ive been doing? they do really well and are absolutely my favorite thing to write. oh my shayla😔💗

[valalice]

✮ YOU'LL ALWAYS BE A GAMEGIRL .ᐟ ft. 𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓶𝓼.

ʚɞ summary. a collection of streamer ellie headcanons.

warnings. streamer!ellie. modern au. fluff i guess? this is basically crack. ellie's chat can't give her a break. loser!ellie also if you so fancy it. talk about a strap on but it's nothing serious. ellie fights with kids for a living. wc. 1.4k

a/n. and the crowd BOOO'S... i know, i know literally everyone to ever exist on this app has their own thoughts on streamer!ellie, but i thought it would be fun to do my own thoughts on her <3 remember to support your writers by reblogging & commenting !

m.list | tlou m.list

࿐ streamer!ellie who grew to stardom during quarantine. much like everyone else in the world she had a lot of time on her hands, so what's better than increasing her addiction to gaming and worsening her already bad eyesight by staring at a bright monitor in the dark? it's not like she had much school work (she did) to care about anyway.

࿐ streamer!ellie whose fan base are her biggest haters that always clown on her. many of the fans who have been around since the start still joke about younger ellie, ellie who was in high school and still cringe when she started streaming. “so, yeah i graduated college. that's the reason why there wasn't a stream on saturday.”

[user000] did you get a degree in loserology?

[user001] bro has a whole college degree and still streams 💀

“i’m talking about my accomplishments and you guys are clowning me!?"

࿐ streamer!ellie who succumbed and adopted a kitten a few years ago, a ginger one at that. her face lighting up when she realizes she has yet to introduce her son to chat. taking off her headset (for once) setting it down on her desk, “i’ll be right back, chat.” leaving her room to find where the small kitten could be.

when she comes back, she holds the small ginger puff of fur in her arms with a cheeky smile. taking the kitten in her hands and holding him to the webcam “say hello to little bro, chat. haven't named him yet, was thinking we could do a poll.”

it was best and worst decision ellie ever made adopting a cat. the best because she loves the little stinker. and the worst because anytime she's on the chat is filled with

[user002] DONTTT CAREEE WHERES RICK

[user003] show us the child

࿐ streamer!ellie who has the worst eyesight ever. she wears glasses and still squints whenever she has to read something in game or the chat.

࿐ streamer!ellie whose desk is some second hand desk she got years ago. it’s gone from place to place with her and chat jokes that it's her emotional support desk. it's often littered with pop cans, various wrappers, notebooks and sketchbooks, figurines, comic books, scratched up stickers, and guitar picks. if she's lost anything her best bet is that it's somewhere on her desk.

࿐ streamer!ellie who swears she's not a scaredy cat when playing horror games, but the moment she hears any sound she's freaking out “chat, you heard that right?” "I'M NOT GOING FUCKING INSANE!" and when out of nowhere her character is getting chased her voice will pitch a little higher “HE’S CHASING ME! HE’S CHASING ME!” when the character ultimately meets their doom she’ll deadpan the webcam, “that game wasn't even that scary.”

[user004] whatever you say bud

[user005] that clip of u screaming like a little girl says otherwise

[user006] now we all know who's dying first in a horror movie

࿐ streamer!ellie who starts to get an inflation of views on her streams from clips of her being posted on tiktok (her audios have gone viral a few times). and who rolls her eyes at all the ‘wuh luh wuh?’ comments, “is the sky blue? are there forks in the kitchen? is the grass green? i love women, women love me.”

[user007] women may have we in it but we do not love you

[user008] is the women in the room with us???

[user009] BRO NO NEED TO LIE WE KNOW U DONT PULL

࿐ streamer!ellie who's mic blows out the any time she screams from a game.

࿐ streamer!ellie who is genuinely so shit at shooting games. chat knows that within the first few minutes without a fail ellie will get shot and killed, yet they still get hyped as ellie gets focused on the game. and when she does get killed, her hands will come down crashing on her desk, causing her setup to shake before stretching out in her chair stretching, letting her hands come on top over her headset before falling down over her face.

[user010] just load up roblox bro

࿐ streamer!ellie who hits a milestone and decides to do those ‘letting my followers spend my money’ it's very short lived because chat is just as unhinged and chaotic as her. “why the fuck is there a maid’s costume? fuck no.” and when her eyes rake over the cart to see that someone added a strap harness and dildo, “YO CHAT? THE FUCK?”

[user011] now thats just sad

[user012] AINT NO WAY

[user013] guys stop being mean :/ we all know it's just going to collect dust and cobwebs :/

[user014] ellie bitchless williams

࿐ streamer!ellie who enjoys doing more laid back and casual streams like building lego sets or setting up a new action figure. she’s done quite a few cooking streams which all end in disaster, “chat is there a huge difference between baking power and baking soda?” “i don't give a fuck if i shouldn't be eating raw cake batter, salmonella fears me.” “uh, should the oven be smoking like that?”

[user015] can't believe i'm witnessing ellie burn down her place in real time

or even once in a blue moon an outside stream.

[user016] ayeeee the gremlin is out of its dungeon

[user017] how does it feel to see sunlight again?

࿐ streamer!ellie who rarely post besides the casual spam of her stories, but is somehow extremely chronically online.

࿐ streamer!ellie who got banned from her mic privileges in roblox and later completely banned. all because she has no self restraint when arguing with little kids, “your avatar is ugly.” some random kid would say, “yo daddy is ugly.” ellie would bite back. and when she finds herself in yet another shooter esc game and a kid thinks it's smart to say "your aim is butt!" ellie’s retaliation to the critique is “that's not what your mom said last night you little fucker!” then shooting the kid’s character.

[user018] kid sounds like he's 8 MAX

[user019] ellie desensitizing these kids young

[user020] TO A CHILDDDD?????

[user021] bro can only get a kill if it's a child

࿐ streamer!ellie who thinks all her jokes are knee slap worthy, but her chat couldn't be less phased.

[user022] pack it up

[user023] 🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅

࿐ streamer!ellie who met you in a lobby when she's coincidentally not streaming, her team needed one more player so she shot her shot, “uh, hey,” she's totally cool right now, her palm totally isn't sweating off of her mouse “would you like to join my team? we just need one more player.” and she plays it chill when you accept “cool, cool. thanks.” but afterwards she put herself on mute and jumped out of her chair, all while her phone is blowing up with text from the groupchat.

࿐ streamer!ellie who tells her chat about it the next time she streams. “had a pretty girl on my team. i've never seen her, but i don't need to. i know it in my soul, it's my spidey sense.”

[user024] u sure u weren't dreaming???

[user025] didn't happened unless we have proof

࿐ streamer!ellie who hopes she'd see you in another lobby, but in reality it's probably a few weeks or months before she notices your handle in a lobby again, but she's always on the lookout for it. and when she does she thanks whoever is out there that she's streaming. she's solo playing this time so there's no opportunity for her to be on a team with you again, but she swears she could ascend into the heavens when you giggle at her wishing you luck in the game, covering her face from her webcam to hide that her face is turning bright red, "good luck to you too."

[user026] we all know she needs it

[user027] OKAY ELLIEEEEEE WE SEE UR GAME

“chat, i’m threw the roof. calling it know we're winning this.” ellie in fact did not win. she yet again got killed in recorded time, by none other than you. she couldn't even be upset over it “pretty and talented, damn.”

[user028] bffr u were her easy kill

࿐ streamer!ellie who by the end of it you initiate a conversation with her “i would apologize for killing you, but i just couldn't help myself.” “oh no, no. it's no problem. i’m shit at this game, it's all good.” "well maybe you could get better if we play together more?” and chat could just see the wheels turning in ellie’s head “uh—” her voice fucking cracked, “shit, yeah!” realizing she's getting a little too excited, so she's gotta tone it down “that would be cool.” smoothing a sweaty hand on her sweats. to say her chat explodes is an understatement.

[user029] WE ARE WITNESSING HISTORY

[user030] WINNERS LOVE WINNING

[user031] U BETTER DUST OFF THAT STRAP!!!!