#seattle ellie gif

[sythjoy]

sleepy girl😴💤

[elliespuns]

If we ain't getting Bella Ramsey in the 'raging Ellie in red' scene, Imma lose it!

[elliesproperty]

ELLIE IN EVERY SCENE 48/?

[astralnymphh]

god knows she tried.

ellie williams⊱.

“the monster inside her was baying for blood, it had to come out some day.”

⤹𓍢ִ໋listening to; lacrimosa and sour

𖤐.an; I present to you, my proudest piece. wowowoww I really enjoyed writing an emotional piece like this. I hope it suffices and gets enough recognition cause this surely won't be my last angst piece!! inspired by lacy, oh lacy by @coeurify

𓍢ִ໋-cw; ellie pov focus leaning, large analysis of ellie throughout tlou2, loser-esque jackson ellie, angst, heavy feelings, depictions of death + wanting death + blood + guts + sharp objects + nausea/vomit + self hatred + jealousy + starvation, mild glimpses of happiness, reader replaces dina, reader isn't pregnant, poetic writing

⋆.ೃ;wc; 5k+

masterlist ୨୧

the sun was shrouded in gloom. the water did not glisten, but her tears did. droplets of gray guilt pour in slow motion down her bloodied cheeks. tears glistening with hurt.

washed up like a sea carcass, phantom fingers pounding in pain. made into a husk by her own self-corrosion. her mind would have been bare, except, you're there. a figment of time, standing there, suffocating in your blank stare. why are you staring like that? it's not even you. ellie can't grasp that truth. it's only her subconscious. projecting an apparition of your mortal flesh and briny blood. salty like the sea she's sitting in.

would you echo that figment in real time?

the past figments she saw had character. one shaking their head, one like a beacon of comfort caressing her shoulder, and never dead. you're not dead, why is she crying?

she cries for everything.

her limbs calcified of stone. nothings' moving. lungs that felt dried up from all the tears leaving her eyes. a throat that strains and tugs with each dense swallow, reminding her of the atmosphere that appeared so devoid of air, thinking, how could she breathe right now? the insoluble pain of self-destruction. the hunger for revenge, snuffed like a breeze to flames. it was all in her head. the choking. her lungs begged for air, and she could not breathe it.

ellie cusps the hand that gushes with beady red blood that drips into the dark murky water, pressurizing the exposed throbbing knuckle. it hurt like hell, an unlivable hell. yet, not a wail is heard by the ocean. only the whimpers and sniffles graze the ears of her highness, the sea, the only one physically there to listen.

behind her, feet are hung at head-level. wooden pillars that scarcely mimicked crucifixion. this place was dark, in all dimensions.

just minutes ago, her skin was forming bruises and jaw nearly caved in from the force of abby's struggled hits. knuckles praying to live. not even the mass of a gun tucked in her jeans had her awareness. no, she didn't use it. she wanted to feel abby fucking dying in her hands. her hands that have siphoned the lives of many before. but, when she realized someone was actually dying in her hands, when she could feel that through her skin, it was over. the flashes of joel in her head beckoned her to stop, without uttering any words. the same mental imagery that motioned her to break skin in the first place.

joel was always there.

soaping up the harshly served reality that projected on the foggy thalassic horizon and toxified the surrounding waters, her mind sails to different times. supposed simplistic times that, by fate, turned rotten.

the day you two met. a mere four years ago. the town was a busy winterscape. you both were the golden age of sixteen, well, not that golden admist the post-apocalypse. steady clanking hoofsteps that striked the concrete track streaming into jackson, mounted on your midnight coat steed that trailed behind tommy's. heads turned at the sounds of large rusty hinges twisting, including hers, watching from beyond the stable's fencing.

goddess above and below, you're were so stunning.

she remembers she was gearing up for group patrol that day when you arrived, the saddles' horn nearly slipping from her bay leather grasp. thoughts of interest and curiosity had slowly piled up from that point. her pupils picking up on each hoofprint left as you pass the open paddock and stroll into the connecting stable. her browlines furrowed, wondering if you we're some backpacker hauled over for a spell, or a new resident.

she's lucky it would be the latter.

the veil of frigid air that seeped her skin and snapped her focus out of a daydream by the echo of dina's voice, calling her,

"earth to ellie?"

and it tethers her back on earth, turning her face to dina. she thought back to how her gloved fingers snapped in her face, asking for her focus, there and then.

"sor- um, what were you saying?" her speech was floaty, stacking on each other as she stuttered.

why was her focus glued to you at that moment? you had literally just entered. fucking hell, must have been something intruding the air. it's unlike herself to be so.. enraptured.

and later that evening, after a session of controlled gunshots mowing down the rigid fungoid heads that dared to disrupt their supply run, she was tired. plain tired.

as it turns out, a sturdy bench baring wooden boards as seats was enough comfort after all that shit. legs beat down to drooping over the woods edge, feeling like jelly. her hair bathed in the dining hall's incandescent lights, rendering a mellow orange halo. lips in pure quietude, she sat as a stranger to the conversation had between joel, jesse and dina.

ellie pondered the expedition for guitar strings that happened weeks ago, still processing what joel had told her. 'there was, no cure.' was it fabrication? what really took place in her state of unconsciousness? this was the beginning of a lurk. an unabating, rough gloom that presides under and through the chamber of her stomach, telling her something wasn't right. a thing she can't exactly point a finger to. a gut hunch that anchors her heart tightly. all is not true. she must seek.

blanked inside the home of her mind, only to be yanked by the wisping holler that ran over her head.

"hey! over here!" it was dina, ushering you over with the jerks of her wrist.

you passioned your way through the meal lines, appearing before her. she recalls how you looked, you were perfect. you wore the same ebony winter jacket that gathered dust on the wall-mounted rack of your farmhouse bedroom. it had its wears and tears and excerpts of journies to tell, but it was perfect on you. it's just a plain jacket. but for her, it was the jacket.

"the house up to yer' standards?" joel asked you, the usual mug of piping hot joe whaffed a steam around the aged and cracked skin of his face. tender in the light.

your voice rang through, "yeah, nothing I could ever bargain." and it cleared a trench between her temples. that rough gloom took a rain check instantly.

a fuzzy feeling that fords neither love or hate embraced the nape of her back. she didn't realize it just then, but, between the vault of aching uncertainty in her gut and the day to day neutrality she feels, a blossoming delight would come from your arrival at jackson, should she consume its goodness.

she didn't remember much of that conversation until the spotlight beamed towards her.

"this is ellie, she jus' came back from patrol. she'll show ya how we handle things 'round here." joel had gestured your sights over to her, to consume her first impression, with a smile that would become signature.

her ears tuned to you.

"hi!" you greeted with the softest wisping of your lips. oh, it made her evening that much more animated.

from that day onward, it was like a sweet lullaby of love. waving from across the horizon for weeks, your hand splayed out flat in the air, and hers curled up a bit. another week passes, and she's inviting you to the tipsy bison on her own accord. months pass, and she's constantly slumbering on your sofa over long nights, preferring it over being alone in her garage home. at this position in your shared timeline, ellie has grown distant from joel. you swore she forgot that old mans' bowed and bearded face sometimes.

it stung to relive the memory of pushing joel away. outside that damned hospital. saint marys' piece of shit. yelling, "don't you fucking, touch me!"

the tears were scorching. they were brought up to be. and they burned. the inside of her throat felt sliced up, chewed up, and ran through with barbed wire. swallowing was too much to bear, just how it is now, sitting on that dark beach.

that same day, she returned to find you waiting at her doorstep, box in hand. worry-struck. ellie took off out of the void, it made sense you were distraught. she felt mutually the same, her wrenching heart suffering the aftermath. the dawn of day she assumed would be spent alone, was sat atop her bed. losing herself in the video game you brought in that box, laying on you while she flicks the joysticks and taps the bumpers. it was a sunny yellow haven. a light she found in the darkness, that was you.

a tightly braided friendship.

and her mind lingers on something you once uttered at the crux of night during a sleepover, entailing the words;

"i like moths now, because of you."

that made her flustered across the span of a whole week, even joel questioned why she was blanking out during patrol training.

she was your moon. someone to subdue the spines that pricked your skin every day. sharp edges that tell you, happiness wasn't meant to stay. battle it all you wanted. moons eventually dim and embellish darkness.

two years pass, and she's being led to the center of an ornamental string-lit dance floor during another peak of winter, by none other than dina.

not you. if only it had been you. or else she wouldn't have felt that specter of gloom wrench her gut in disgusting ways later at dusk.

at least her gut didn't feel as it does now. torn open for this sorrowful sea to behold, exposed to a retch colored with regret. ill aversion.

her hands guided to the small of dina's back, draping like a silk curtain. missing a flinch when her arms huddled ellie's shoulders. not a flinch. ellie didn't love dina, but they were close. pinkies-tied close. it's just dina being dina, right?

"every guy in this room is staring at you right now.." her voice croaked in a demure whisper. the blood cells in her being were fluttering, the weight of her position then and there, made her feel lit up inside a dark room. backed into a corner. she was the spotlight once more.

"maybe they're staring at you.."

they would soon.

you never resented ellie for that night. you liked her, yeah, but it wasn't her fault. it only felt like you'd gulped a clump of metal bolts, weighing like a sick burden inside you. cold and rustic. your will of steel didn't let that shatter you completely, though. bottled it up and bluffed your feelings. it was never her fault. sucked down that bitter shot and let it ferment in your sickly gut packed with a stir. a stir of pungent nausea jabbing thorns in your esophagus. it delivers a nasty taste. but you swore, you wouldn't resent ellie.

ellie was unaware of your shared adoration. what seemed like a one-sided crush, was not. nights left off with a friendly hug could have been so much more divinely satiating. she wishes her body wasn't bound to the now, wishing she could back to then. the past, and express her affection. tell you everything.

a wish brewn too late. a drunken kiss to her buds out of wills' reach binds a woolly, empty headed fizzing to her ears. tossed into a stupor. all she could do was stand still like a willow tree in the windless plains. lips unable to jerk away. then it sunk hard. you're there. you're watching. people are peering. you saw.

"fuck." was emphasized in her toneless breath, narrowly letting loose another swear in the flavor of a loud scream.

in that gloomy darkness, she saw you. illuminated like a beacon too. your face plasters an unbothered exterior, but the eyes, the eyes are a glass screen. you can understand the essence fueling a person's emotion with one meager glimpse. a new gag clots her gullet. she can't show it, but she for heaven above and hell below, could fucking feel it.

you virtually felt a crack in your heart. cracks in a porcelain antique. you're sure the two looked similar.

strung between multiple conclusions, you pondered. if ellie liked dina, you'd have to woefully accept it. and if she didn't, then she didn't. what more could you have proposed at that time. life is life.

your feet carried you with a saunter, skirting the doors brinking you from the ghostly streets of a slumbering town of jackson. a jarring contrast from the lively party howling behind you. even for someone who's experiencing confusion, you walked with a gentle gait.

pausing under the descending pearls of frozen water, casting your eyes heavenward into the starry globe above you. the stars twinkled so perfectly on such a gut-wrenching night as this one. it dawns on you. how the celestial bodies of space feel no pain, no heartbreak. how their life is lived without the mortal trials you face. it must be so easy up there, suspended in space, feeling nothing.

as the snow nestled in the beds of your hair, melting on your blue hot face, you claimed a sense of emptiness in your head amidst the vomit begging to unfurl from your throttle. please, let it be a dream.

piercing isolation.

ended suddenly.

the swinging of a door wooshes through your ears, and capers your sights to its source. and there she was. joining you in the twilight snow-shower. ellie.

she trotted up to you, lone in the wintry streets, and harvested the same pellets of opalite snow that decorated the strands of your hair like constellations hovering above. her head, too, snowflakes cling to her russet bang and lashes, framing her eyes so damn right.

oh, snowy fern eyes. the most serenic evergreen rings encapsulated behind gloss. dewey eyes sitting atop red sweltered cheeks. her lids fluttered back the tears, the tears that might wither the snow, and surely wither her soundness of mind. a quiver of the lip, bent over her teeth. frozen fucking wind that chars the lining of her lungs with ice. every single thing fucking wounded her.

you gazed into one another, emotions roaring loud. she could peer right through you. through the glass windows of your eyes. things were felt and not shown, it was evident in your expression. no words were uttered in those seconds before. before the infamous words you spoke. words that forced everything to the shore.

"do you love dina?"

fucking gag. another smother of disgust gurgling in her gut. the sheer assumption that you believed her heart to be penchant for dina, and not you, drowned her guts. a quick spurt of unease penetrates her whole esse.

here went nothing.

"I love you."

whorled away from your envy like whiplash. it added up by that point. she appeared like a puppet to that kiss on the dance floor. you recalled it then. ellie's teeth were never bared in a smile, more so, it was the true one-sided love. now, she is standing in front of you. physical, mortal, and all. retching out that confession like it was stifled beneath a tombstone.

to ellie, that tombstone represented everything she expected to fail. to be dead. a wish foreseen as ash, fled to the gales of something more worthy.

that wish sailed the breeze, and landed at your feet.

you reached that shore too.

"I love you too, ellie."

her name levitating off your tongue with a tone so soothing felt affirming. grounding. this is not a dream.

her eyes transmutated, eclipsed by a sun. what was once dewey, red and puffy, then softened to a set of almonds brazed in sweet syrup. calmer tears that were golden. joyous. lids relax and anchor her brows, straightening out like rows of a poem. after straying so long beneath the falling snow, her nose suffused a red-orangey tint, nostrils even redder.

love passioned its way through the gelid space, accompanied by the humid huffs of your breath. but nothing was as warm, not even a star, as what brought your bodies a few measly steps closer.

a kiss.

huddled in the somber streets was an effigy of igniting amour. two souls stuck together. her arms wrapped around your back like you were the only life she could clutch. reddened knuckles crumpling up the same ebony jacket you attired in the winter, holding you dear. your arms found a natural embrace, cusping her shoulders and marrying fingertips into her coppery mane that tied into her bun.

nothing beats the way you two rolled lips, tasting the skin and smacking slowly. her peachy buds that fit the open groove of your mouth so easily. her lips were formed for you. cells that build her body, are building for you. she existed solely for you. graciously drinking up the kiss like a fucking sweet milkshake.

a taste so addictive, you could die on it.

shit, she's smirking into your lips. ellie, you blasted dork. even the dimples denting her cheeks could poke you back. that's how wide her smile travels from ear to ear, even her cheeks fattened up, creasing those beautiful crinkles at the edges of her eyelines. a true smile.

and once that kiss severed, you saw those bloated, ruddy cheeks plucking the corners of her lips. too fucking adorable.

"well, there's that smile. lost her a while ago, els?" the teaser you were, and the loser she was.

her lips refine into the same toothy, adorable beam. she nearly cringed at your observation. the way you kept notation of how often her midface perks up, it was cute. her flesh bites the bitter cold, and blood that heaped her cheeks burnt so vibrant for you.

she couldn't believe you were true.

"i think you're the only person that makes me smile," she recalled this vividly, trying her darndest to uplift every waking thought about you through a cold shell she fabricated, "fuck, i'm so bad at this.." laugh it off past ellie, laugh it off.

if she pinpoints it correctly, you had said the words "i like bad." jokingly. fashioning the most proud smirk ever. pfft, she giggles every time her brain resurfaces that memory of your snowy brimmed confessions.

"tsskk- u're weird."

"you're a big dork."

"shut up.." her ardent palms pancaked against both of your cheeks, passionately pulling you in for another tangerine sweet kiss.

the ivory supermoon set on a blissful night, luckily enough. ellie ended up fleeing that street, hand in hand mingled with you, towards her home. fuck that dance. fuck those feelings flush of guilt that died right there on that street. being tangled in the sheets with you snuggled in her arms was enough. enough to submerge what galloped through her head.

"i don't need your fucking help joel."

shit.

gods above and below.

what did daylight bring?

bloodshed. blood stains her eyes to this day. she was there. she saw. the blood spilt and it splashed towards her. if joel couldn't reach his torn, bashed and narrowly mutilated hand out to her, his lifeline would. the plasma pumping his heart to sustain life, hurling out like a ribbon of crimson. a downright disrespectful invitation of rememberance abby had chucked to her fucking face.

this memory. this disease, an immoral plague. who the fuck up there in the pristine realms of divinity decides a mortal punishment like this?

that memory, lives on. it weakens the marrow in her bones. turns the tides in her head. she wanted to rip her skin off. her skin that gets to survive. disgust. again. the muscles attached to bone, felt like they didn't belong.

she stopped genuinely breathing after that day.

you saw the will to breathe drain from her eyes. etching into that lodges' oak floors. the first grave she ever dug.

"i'm so sorry, ellie."

was the first swan song she ever heard.

now that rough gloom, plummeted and shapeshifted into a dark cavern of misery. starless, desolate gloom. her room turnt cavernous too. blocking all rays of bright luminosity from injecting a disturbance in her seclusion. era of mental death.

you had been visiting her daily in her time of barren sensitivity, at the least, visiting her door. you uneasily sat on the exterior end of her door. poised aside and smushing your ear into it's solid strength. praying that you might hear any peep of life on the other side, you wait. you miss her bloodcurtiling sobs reserved for nighttime, sowing the conclusion that she, inside, was empty. a husk.

if death is so morbid, why did graves look so peaceful? so prettied up. why are the baby blue hydrangeas sitting atop his freshly cold grave, soft in their glory, delivering such a potent posion. they plant their own seed. clotting ellie's throat with a nest of hydrangeas she'll carry with her forever. roots latched to a deep spring in her spirit that navigates every little emotion. the flowers bulge from her esophagus and cough up in petals of regret, forgiveness, and rejection.

she can't accept that.

she didn't.

she heard the rainy forest calling for her.

seattle is here. seattle is waiting. the old flame lights the new wick, and so it ignites, her immortal foe. revenge.

and she brought you along.

ellie respires every soul set free from mangled bodies she creates. her hands a syphon, the weapon her postman. delivering screaming letters of justice with every pull of her finger on the trigger.

a once starless gloom was snapped in half by her own drive with spheres of guttural fire baying for blood. she wakes up a blood-gutter every sunrise. her face just might fossilize and cherish this total takeover. she was someone new. angled fuming brows, irritable red nostrils flared more than ever, and an awful intensity in her eyes. it made them scintillating, more so, grossly gleaming. irises fern green to hazardous toxin in just a few months.

enemies could read ellie's aura nimbly, if their visions should even grasp it faster than their machetes and hammers meeting a clenched palm. she wasn't just a girl. she was a threat.

miles of blood patterned in her path, splotching the diamond modeled bottoms of her converse like abstract art. she was lost in her own world. driven straight to the goal.

you promised you'd be there every damn sliced throat of the way, no matter what. but this scares you. slowly, the fire burning in her eyes had charred her up till she could barely give anything more.

the fire had only engulfed her when she appeared at the theater's lobby doors, banging the margin of her balled fist on the wood. the fist gloved in crescent scars, peeled cuticles, and raised callouses. when the doors waved open to you, gliding up to her and weaving yourself with her body in a relieved hug, she couldn't do it. it was too much. the torture lingering in her muscle memory stung, frozen hands jittering above the small of your back momentarily.

ellie was enervated.

it took her a second to even hug you back. that was, too kind of you. to embrace her body slathered in the lifeline of someone else. why would you even do that, she thought.

her mind looped on a cycle, processing that damned notion as you pleat the soiled shirt off her back. she couldn't even feel the salient tear in her back, the brutally severed dermis throbbing red, not a whimper soars her gullet when you tend to it. numbness riddled her. stitch her up, and she won't flinch.

then ellie croaked,

"i made her talk."

she was revolted. how could she touch you so tenderly after whacking a metal rod into a beating body 'till they coughed up the words. knackered them up for eternal sleep. the face she just wiped from this earth, blurred. does she even remember what she looked like?

it was your own arm, meshing around her blistered collarbone that prompted her to gauge the value of her life, even just for an iota of solace time.

problem being, she couldn't remain enlightened of her value- without you.

"i don't wanna lose you."

your lips kissed her pain away, pitter by patter along the scruff of her neck to her seared shoulder. every peck embedded with a melodic note that forges a song saying, 'i am here, you won't lose me' without even brushing that past your satiny lips.

won't you seal my hardships with your lips of silk? taint my lips of leather and gums of thorns with your soothing buds?

"you wont."

then that day arrived, when she almost did. a scene depicted by the ten of swords. a major disaster indicated. as the arrow speared the air suddenly, and in no time you could count, it had already paved through the plate of your shoulder and strung out blood to the planks before you. rendering you unconscious.

"please stop!" ellie pleaded, just like she did before. god forbid if she had to witness another loved one being lacerated from life. her limp body prays, prays for your safe survival, and not your safe passage. she wonders if god is even real, if any god is real. do they hear her now? we're they aware when she shrilled for mercy at every red ribbon lashed out from his body? did they welcome him, home?

and right before that cold steel nearly divided your skin, a voice erupted.

"abby!"

thank fuck you hadn't ended up a resemblance of the 'ten of swords' illustration. thank the sun gods that you were able to bask and tan under the light that fondled the rustic farmhouse with her. ellie is so lucky, for someone who doesn't believe in it.

"don't ever let me see you again."

you then retired to that old, rustic farmhouse. aging under the continuous moon phases for two years straight.

it was a strenuous journey getting to where she was supposed to be the happiest. despite all the treasures she owned on that farm property, the lagoon of corn fields and hills of verdancy that sung in spring, mighty splendors anyone might wish for, ellie still lived with a loom. ellie bore tantrums inside the confined loneliness of the farm's supply room, kicking the hilt of a rake as it clatters to the stony ground, yelling, "fuck!" when it startled her badly enough, or when it enraged her ptsd well enough.

reminiscence is woven into the scar risen on your shoulder. it reminds her. every. damn. glance.

every approaching dream was daunting to ellie. she'd wake up. cold beady sweat. go back to sleep, suffocate in her subconscious again, and surface them in a panic once more. not even braving the night with a stroll around the perimeter helped. it only sunk everything deeper.

if she was drunken in her sorrows, would you carry her?

the daylight spent with you was her only source of felicity. the mundane made it feel much more liveable. a day spent baking together, flour dappled on each other's noses, roused as she pushed up behind, and swayed you to the cordial and funky beats thrumming from the viynl player. that day, that simple day made her want to live fully for you. she wanted to be tied to your pinkie with the lusty filaments of love.

and in that humble kitchen laid a promise;

"so- this means you'll marry me?" a stupid smirk muffled ellie's voice out huskily, flowing against the shoreline of your ear.

"can't we just announce ourselves married already?"

"baabeee.." that freckled idiot whined.

"eelllssss.." you rung back.

her arms fastened you tighter, pout puffing on your shoulder, "i wann' make it feel real.." she intoned, inclining up and stuffing her nose into your neck. pretty sure she rubbed all the flour onto you, being the bear hugger she is.

no answer parts your lips.

"babe?"

ellie felt you twirl in her caging arms, perking up to even up with your gaze in curiosity. her brows fumble and arc inwards to visibly show her interest for your next words.

"we're real, els. i don't need a ring or declaration to show that.." your tone caters to her love of soothing sounds, as she breaks into an even toothier smile that trails your words.

"you don't?"

you had leaned in, devoid of words. a quiet kiss to her brows, said so much more than she expected. that inner-loser knocked on the door of her mind and took control. blasted blush coating her cheeks. you really knew how to woo her, cradling her head in your tender cusp.

"i just need you."

"don't go."

the grounding touch of her cheeks held between your hands was not enough. the blank, void, and unnerving night was not enough. nothing was enough to keep her waiting.

what kind of songs do you play when dwindling into internal madness?

her own screams battle the wood boards of that farm too often. her screams synchronize with joels, replaying in her head. scared and unable to hold onto anything. thoughts running amok. she fucking needs you more than she thought.

"ellie- ellie.. I'm here. it's okay."

it's not okay.

it's not okay for her to play pretend and cast an ocean over those feelings 'when she can'. you told her, it's okay. to be broken. but her heart anchors towards an obligation to be picture perfect for you, for anyone. every positive cover-up felt like posion pooling from her mouth. lying til she couldn't feel her lips.

she lied to you once. for someone who despises lies and has been lied to, she lied. that fucking lie hurt. but it was too loud. the gloom that stuck with her for so long has grown into a pounding, jarring sound similar to intense whirring, but echoed. nothing had color at that point. everything was a null void, and every sound was a silence too loud.

a sentence meant to be; "i'm going to find abby." sounded a lot more like,

"i'm so tired, baby." murmured ellie, collapsed flat on the plateau of your chest and drained of energy.

you assumed it was just physical fatigue.

"it's fine, go t'sleep, we can talk later."

ellie's eyes looked so dull, so scarce of humanity. she was tired. each passing day had been vampirically sucking the motivation from her veins. some days, she didn't even catch you calling her name from the farmhouse. earth to ellie, are you still in there?

"I have to finish it." ellie's forehead bent to yours, felt so wrong.

"why didn't you tell me?"

"I can't." her voice nearly shattered into a waterfall of sobbing.

your voice cracked, however, "bullshit, els."

that was the drawing line. she finally breaks and is consumed by that hovering gloom. she lost herself.

ellie dashed every chance of losing you, and yet took it upon herself to leave you, instead.

that fucking thing that leeched off her for so many years is finally getting what it yearns for. greed of revenge to feed the darkness. starving herself as it ingests every fiber barely holding her together.

you spun away with leisure, breaching your hands from her, "I am - not, doing this again."

you couldn't save this. she was leaving. nothing blocks her way.

heart-wrenching silence dawns.

"that's up to you."

her heels unhurriedly turned in an instant, abandoning you, and her dreams born of soft blue dasies. her omens of happiness and trust, becoming a fatuous foreground. the door waving shut behind her would soon come to bite her in the heart.

now she sits. almost dying in that water. the water was her gloom all along. she was the vessel, she paid the price, it's free. now she bleeds into it. red rivers dance and make a mockery of her weeping body.

she tried.

it won.

she tried for the false clone of you haunting her mind. it's the only thing she had left of you.

she tried so hard to be strong. only she and the gods above know that.

you wouldn't though.

coming home to jackson a walking carcass, pinning her hopes on you being there. it was obvious you moved from the farmhouse. why would you live there alone?

so, she stands. inside your old jackson home, to divulge its absence of you. no, you weren't there. you weren't in jackson. all that remains are old memories crammed into boxes. motionless without a requiem.

ellie closes in on one of these.

and what she finds is painful.

that winter jacket.

she clutches it tight to her barren eyes, burrowing the trench of her nose with your lingering scent. the scenes trance her mind. visions of you tackling her in the thick mud puddle on your farm's acres, an enchanting laugh wheezing in your throat. visions of holding your stomach while you scrubbed fine china of its grub and stains, wishing you two had a real family, a child, by some miracle. recollections of you, legs sitting pretty across her lap as she thrashed a controller, casting her evil curse whenever the game ticked her off just enough and how you giggled at her. the everlasting evocation of you two, kissing under that snow-ether night, vowing a love to extend across times bounds.

the jacket smells so fucking good.

"please.." whispered ellie, with a taut countenance, "where are you.."

not a clue of where you went is in those walls.

are you dead? nobody knows.

where she left the farmhouse, you left her entirely. unknowing if it stems from love, hate, or neutrality. the guilt felt disgusting, once more. the pain stung in her lung far harsher. the air siphoning out.

in a room so devoid of air, and you, how could she breathe?

you can't pay in blood and sacrifice. ellie has learned that. she paid in loss of something that didn't have to go.

love was understanding each other's limits, and so was losing each other. she just never realized you had limits plummeting down on you, until the new moon phase had begun, and it was too late.

that figment of you is all she has left.

𓍢ִ໋-likes and reblogs appreciated, bright blessings!

[saintrvckwell]

Till the end (ellie williams x reader)

ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: in the midst of brutal madness, ellie finds a moment to confess what she fears the most.

warnings: fluff, swearing, slight angst, soft moments of ellie and the reader

words count: 3.3k

a/n: oh yeah. i’m still alive. and finally wrote something that does not have ten thousands words wow? owed you something nice, tried my best to achieve that. it's short, but (i hope) comforting, at least. seattle ellie deserves the whole world.

"For all that it's worth, I would have loved you till the end."

‣

Ellie never wanted you to become a part of this. Her complicated, unresolved issues with Joel, her own inner fight with the guilt of not dying for something she considered to be the purpose of her life and repayment for those she had lost along the way. Nor be part of the inevitable outcome that Joel’s actions had caused.

Ellie never wanted to scar the only pure, untouched safety net she had in her life. 

But when she stood upon Nora’s body she had previously beaten to death, sourcing the information she came for to Seattle in the first place, she could no longer escape. To the person she was becoming, to Joel whose eyes were slowly fading away from her memory. From the look, you gave her when she came back to the theatre and Jesse let her in.

With the bloodstains on her clothes, and bruises on her arms, she handed Dina the map and you couldn’t help but notice how fragile her whole body has suddenly become. 

You didn’t say much, knowing there wasn’t anything that could fix the way Ellie felt, that could find the parts of herself she already lost while avenging someone whom she couldn’t even face after the heinous act she just committed.

Joel never wanted her to lose the remaining bits of innocence she had within her. He never wanted her to taste the ugliness of the world the way he did. Yet here she was. Convinced she had to finish this, no matter what was it going to take. How much was it going to cost. 

Jesse and Dina stood aside with a bloodstained map, marking Abby’s supposed location while you carefully grabbed Ellie’s wrist, wishing to take her to the back and clean her wounds. She couldn’t even look into your eyes, avoiding it the whole time you walked through the seats, all the way backstage. 

You sat her down on the couch, letting her take the clothes off while you went to search for some useful supplies. Back there, Dina and Jesse were upstairs, sitting by the radio, contemplating a good way of finding Tommy and the easiest route to hunt down Abby and be done with this whole thing. 

The minute you walked in, Jesse couldn’t help himself. “That was definitely not her blood.” 

Two days in and you already noticed how much this had cost her already. 

You didn’t comment, still searching through the cabinets. 

“Maybe we should just pack it up and leave,” Jesse whispered. “Right in the morning. We were in deep shit yesterday already. After this, they must be patrolling for us. We should just find Tommy and get the fuck out of here.” 

“And go where?” you dared to ask, shifting your attention to him. 

“Back home?” Dina shrugged his shoulders, joining the conversation.

“See,” you closed the cabinets and stood up, finally paying both of them your full attention. “She doesn’t have that anymore.” 

None of them would dare to argue about that. 

Jesse meant well, you were well aware of that. After all, Ellie was the reason he came to Seattle in the first place. But even though he was determined to help his friend, Jesse would never understand the full reason and justification of the way Ellie felt—why she was doing all of that.

You couldn’t help but sigh. “Ellie can’t see the sense of right and wrong right now. And the more you tell her how stupid and dangerous this is, the less she will listen to you..” 

“So you’re supporting this?” he wondered, disgruntled. 

“No,” you replied. “But I know that I can either give her shit and go home or stay and make sure she’s not going to lose the only parts of herself she has left.” 

You found what you were looking for, parts of that. Combined with what you packed before you left Jackson, you had nearly enough to fix all of Ellie’s injuries. Without uttering another word, you left Dina and Jesse to their own thoughts, not feeling the need to add anything else. As much as you understood their need to go back before things get significantly worse, you knew she would not go. 

And you would never forgive yourself if you just left her here, all alone. 

Especially after what happened a few minutes later. 

She was sitting on the old sofa by the time you got back to her, facing you backward. Before you even tried to whisper her name, you were stopped by a sight that immediately caught your attention. Most of her clothes were lying on the floor, soaked in blood and dirt. She sat there, half-naked, with her back displaying endless bruises, cuts and wounds. You couldn’t count all of them even if you tried. 

Ellie knew you were already there, but didn’t dare to look at you—not after you saw that. She was too weak to face you. Not because she was afraid of seeing the sadness and worry in your eyes; she had already gotten used to seeing that in the last two days.

More than that, Ellie would never be able to face a disappointment, not from you. Not from someone who was there for her. Who never asked why she stopped talking to Joel, why she begged you to switch patrols so she could avoid him. 

You were the last person who could see the good parts, despite digging through blood and tears to find them. And after Joel, she couldn’t afford to lose that. 

“Ellie?” you whispered, pulling her out of her thoughts. 

She wiped her tears away and nodded, giving you space to continue. 

“Is it alright if I clean your wounds?” 

You felt the need to get her approval.  

Doing her absolute best to stop those sobs from escaping her trembling lips, she covered her mouth and nodded again, giving you what you had asked for. 

You sat down quietly, right behind her, with your bucket, cloth, and nearly empty first aid kit you brought from Jackson. First, you cleaned the rest of the dry blood on her shoulders and lower back while she sat still. She let you help her, repeatedly wiping away the tears that were now heavily streaming down her bruised cheeks. 

Most of her wounds needed just some cleaning to prevent any further infection. You took your time with each one of them, making sure you were not hurting her anymore. She felt how delicate you were with your touch, how carefully you were trying to help her ease the pain.

The softness and care you had allowed her to forget about what she did out there for a second and enjoy the comfort you provided. 

A long exhale left her rosy lips. She found her mind drifting towards that the day; and the events that inevitably followed. She set her mind on leaving for Seattle the minute she left that place, despite Tommy’s desperate attempts to talk her out of it. Even when he decided to head out there first in order to protect her, she couldn’t appreciate the good thought. The pain clouded her judgment.

That day, when Tommy left, she fought with you for hours. It was the first time you saw Ellie since the horrific incident at the lodge. She was standing by your fireplace, announcing that she was leaving for Seattle and she was hoping (more like counting on the fact) that you were going to cover her ass while she quietly goes on her revenge quest.

And being the person you were and having the amount of love you had for her, of course, you would not let her go alone. 

“I don’t need a babysitter,” she stopped the minute she heard that proposal. “This isn’t your fucking business. And I’m not making you a part of that.” 

“I’m not asking for permission, Ellie,” you whispered, stepping closer to her. “I’m going with you, end of conversation.”

It went on for another twenty minutes when she was trying to talk out of you joining her. She was harsh, calling you a naive idiot more than once. But you knew that all those words, all this pain were coming from the same place of sadness she was trying to suppress. You would never hold any of this against her. 

Eventually, as she understood, it didn’t matter how hard she tried, how harsh she might have been to you. You were determined to go and there was nothing Ellie could change about that. 

Thinking about it now, weeks later, she felt guilty for the way she spoke to you. You were the last person who would deserve such treatment, given how faithfully you stood by her this whole time.

Throughout most of the days on the road, Ellie was withdrawn, immersed in her own thoughts. She wasn’t talkative but if she happened to say a word or two, she was taking out her own frustration on you.

After everything she said over the past couple of weeks, you had a full right to turn away at any point and head back home. But you didn't. 

You always stayed, despite how unbearable it was at times. Ensuring her that you were not going to walk away, in Seattle or anywhere else.

And now, as you were sitting here, cleaning her blood-stained spots and washing away the shame and guilt she had been wearing around, Ellie knew how high the stakes were—how petrifying was the thought of losing you. Despite her numerous attempts to chase you away, despite the fact that you never really established where you stood when it came to the other, you meant a lot to her. More than she was willing to admit. 

“Ellie, this one’s really deep. I’m gonna need to sew it,” you whispered, grabbing the needle and the thread, interrupting her thoughts. 

She didn’t respond, just left you to do your thing and stayed immersed in her head. 

“It’s probably gonna hurt a little,” you warned her before sticking the needle through the skin of her shoulder. 

“It won’t. I don’t feel anything,” she mumbled; for the first time. 

The response forced you to stop for a second and rethink what you have just heard. You didn’t know whether you should ask for more information. Instead, you finished your job and within a few minutes, the open wound was gone.

Ellie suddenly felt the coldness wrapping around her as soon as your hands left her body as you handed her a clean t-shirt from your backpack. 

“You should get some rest,” you whispered, standing up and grabbing the bucket with blood-soaked clothes. “I still have your snacks in my backpack, in case you were hungry.” 

There was no reaction from her. She put on the shit and stayed in the same spot, still not willing to face you. 

Part of you wanted to rush over and comfort her. But knowing how withdrawn she was lately, you didn’t want to drive her away any further. So you stood there for a second, with a bucket in your hands, and watched her, wiping away the tears from her puffy, red cheeks. 

“Please, don’t leave me.” 

It was the moment you reached for the doorknob, halfway out of the room, when she suddenly uttered that pleading statement. The walls she had been so determined to build around her aching existence were slowly falling to the ground, leaving her on her own.

There was a thought in Ellie’s head. Thought that appeared when she was gripping the iron pole, beating the words out of her enemy’s weakened body. Nora was on the verge of her own strength, not having any more power to fight Ellie, so she gave her friend up.

She handed Ellie what she came for in the first place, leaving her space to strike for one last time—finishing what she started, ending Nora’s prolonged suffering. 

And the moment she did that—hitting the one last punch, she saw you. She saw the thought of you in her mind and froze. She glanced down upon the lifeless body—but saw you. Saw you lying in your own blood, dying by her own hand. And for the first time, she feared the person she was becoming. Facing the outcome. 

Making you collateral damage of her revenge quest was a risk of its own. But being capable of hurting you on her own what was she feared the most. 

For a second, you had to process what you just heard. It wasn’t until the sobs that left her trembling mouth you felt the need to turn around and take a look at her. 

She was now standing right in front of you, finally daring to face you. 

Daring to face her what she feared the most. 

“I’m scared.”

For weeks now, she was quietly suffering, mourning in her thoughts. Now the pain crawled on the surface and she could no longer avoid it. For the first time, she let you see all of that—see the desperation in her faded green eyes and realize how long she has been suppressing all of this inside. 

“What are you scared of?” you whispered and took a step closer to her. 

She took a deep breath, trying to get ahold of her sobs before she continued, still looking into your eyes: “Of what I did.” 

You knew Ellie was not always as tough as she tried to portray herself. But seeing that right in front of you, seeing her falling down felt like a shot coming through your chest. 

“What did you do, Ellie?” 

There was a curiosity in your mind, followed by fear of what you might get. 

“I made her talk.” 

It was somehow enough. Enough to understand that the desperate need for a feeling of consolation was growing with each strike Ellie hit and with each toll it took on her.  

“Ellie—“ you took a step closer, reaching for her but she swiftly pulled away, shaking her head. 

“I’m scared,” she repeated, daring to look into your eyes. “What if I might—“

“No,” you stopped her without hesitation, knowing where this was headed. “You won’t.” 

Brushing her tears away, she suddenly looked down. “You don’t know that. You don’t know what I’m capable of. I don’t even know what I’m capable of.” 

There was a genuine worry in her voice, fear of her own self. But after all those years, after everything you’ve encountered together, you trusted her enough to confidently proclaim that she would never hurt you. 

You trusted her. But she didn’t trust herself, that was the core issue.

Which you became aware of the second she bursted into tears. 

Ellie was never quite an emotional person; she mostly tried to deal with everything on her own and as quietly as possible. Until now.

“I can’t lose you.” 

And there it was. 

The revelation between uncontrollable sobs made you come closer. 

“But I’m afraid it’s gonna happen anyway and it terrifies me to death.” 

She came to terms with the fact that you might never become hers, long before this. For all those years, Ellie yearned for you in silence, realizing she will accept any kind of role in your life, as long as she is part of it. Only now she was realising how dangerous this wish had become.

Because suddenly, there was a price. 

She was never more honest in her life than right now, displaying all of her worries in front of you. Displaying how important you were for her. For a moment, you thought, if there, perhaps, was more to her words. 

“You’re not gonna lose me, Ellie,” you whispered, slowly reaching for her hand, again. “That's just not gonna happen,” you intertwined your fingers with hers. 

“You don’t know that,” she mumbled, trying to pull away her hand but you stopped her. 

“I do. As long as I have a say in it,” you objected, stepping even closer. “No matter what you say, what you do. I’m not leaving. You can yell at me, for all I care—just like you did in my living room. But I told you then and I’m telling you now. I’m not leaving you, now or ever.” 

At that moment, Ellie suddenly didn’t know which thing she feared more. Whether it was the idea of losing you by her own force or knowing that despite her capacity to hurt you, you were never going to walk away.

Ellie couldn’t pull you into her darkness—but at the same time, she couldn’t leave you. You were her home, her whole world. Or at least, what was left of it. 

“Can you stay?” she pleaded, reaching for your other hand. 

You nodded, letting a fleeting smile slip onto your lips as you pulled her closer, wrapping both of your hands around her neck. She was hesitant at first but the second her body crashed against yours, she gave in. There was a sigh of relief escaping from her lips as she buried her head into your shoulder; tightly gripping your waist.

Making you realize how starved she must have been for that hug.

You stayed together in that little dressing room, lying together in the dark with Ellie’s hand caressing your cheek. You promised yourself to stay up and alert to watch over her but found yourself falling asleep in her arms. Now she was lying in front of you, studying your appearance, her mind drifting away to different ends. 

She wondered. About her. About you. 

She wondered if things were different, if perhaps, there was any other ending for you—one less threatening. She wondered if she would, under different circumstances, find the courage to finally confess. She wondered if the two of you would have a shot at having a relatively normal life together, despite the world you were living in. 

She wanted the best for you, and nothing less. She wanted to protect you. From the heinous world outside, and sometimes from herself as well. Looking at you, lying so peacefully next to her, she couldn’t help but think of Joel’s words. 

Perhaps now more than ever, Ellie was facing her own moral battle. There was someone in her life, someone for whom she would quite frankly walk to the edge of the universe and back. Someone whose life was carrying more value than her own. Feasibly, now she had a chance to understand the nature of his actions. 

When she had her own something to fight for. 

“Are you okay?” 

It was your voice that pulled Ellie out of her mind. 

She snapped out of her thoughts and saw your eyes.

“Did I wake you?” she whispered, concern in her voice. 

“No but you should’ve,” you chuckled. “I’m supposed to be making sure that you’re still breathing.” 

Ellie couldn’t help but laugh. “You’ve been doing that for the past couple of weeks. Now it’s my turn.” 

You felt her hand, still resting on your cheek. There was a look in her eyes that you could not quite define. In the darkness surrounding you, the two of you were staring into each other’s eyes.

Before she filled the silence with her voice. 

“Hey,” she mumbled, slowly drifting closer to you, her breath dancing on your lips. 

“Hm?” you raised your eyebrows, curious. 

“If things were different,” she whispered, guilt in her voice. “I would’ve given you a lot more than this.” 

Most of the time, Ellie struggled with her words. But now, it was crystal clear. In her own way, she made sure you knew how important you were.

For her.

You leaned closer, grabbing Ellie’s hand and intertwining your fingers. Only then, you looked into her eyes again and smiled, reassuring.

Message received.

“This,” you squeezed her hand, “is enough for me.”

“So, you think you can love even the least I can offer?” she whispered.

There was a smile on your lips. Smile that eased Ellie’s worried mind once you moved closer. “Been doing that for quite some time, already.”

She wanted to give you the world, that and so much more. In Ellie's eyes, that was what you deserved. She wanted to make sure you were going to be happy, despite the circumstances life had both given you.

Both of you were hoping for something else, for so much more.

Yet, you would never walk away. No matter the conditions you were under, you had each other. And that was enough. Enough to stay. Enough to do more than that.

[abbyshands]

ellabs twitter links pt. 3 ♡

18+, minors DNI.

els <3

⋆𐙚₊˚ biker!ellie taking care of you

⋆𐙚₊˚ riding ellie’s strap

⋆𐙚₊˚ scissoring with sub!bottom!ellie

⋆𐙚₊˚ ellie riding your face

⋆𐙚₊˚ “on your knees.”

⋆𐙚₊˚ ellie making you take it from the back

⋆𐙚₊˚ pussy slaps with ellie <3

⋆𐙚₊˚ sucking ellie’s nipples

⋆𐙚₊˚ ellie fingering you in her car

⋆𐙚₊˚ jackson!ellie

abs <3

⋆𐙚₊˚ riding abby’s strap

⋆𐙚₊˚ dom!abby and her obsession with doggy style <3

⋆𐙚₊˚ riding abby’s fingers

⋆𐙚₊˚ sub!abby eating you out

⋆𐙚₊˚ sucking sub!abby’s nipples and eating her out

⋆𐙚₊˚ scissoring with abby

⋆𐙚₊˚ taking care of sub!abby

⋆𐙚₊˚ seattle!abby

⋆𐙚₊˚ taking care of ceo!abby after a long day

⋆𐙚₊˚ wife!abby when you get a new house

[mystellenia]

hello love!! hope you're doing well :)

can i request ellie x reader first time? not having found the right moment for a while, maybe reader bought lingerie for ellie? fluffy would be nice :)

first time with needy!ellie ୨ৎ

summary: you and ellie cuddle up on the couch for a night in but it escalates quickly to become your first time together. you're shocked when ellie says she has a surprise for you...

content: fingering (r receiving), cunnilingus (r receiving), a little bit of loser!ellie being like sheepish with starting things, then quickly replaced by needy!ellie 🤤🤤 that's about it hehe

notes: like no plot, jumping STRAIGHT in 💕 eventual smut under the cut. sorry to the anon who requested this because it took so long to be able to update it since daddy tumblr decided to shadowban me. ALSO sorry because the request asked for ellie to be the one wearing the lingerie, but... i just can't imagine that and then write that when seattle and santa barbara ellie exist... i hope the change wasn't too bad <33

(wc 2.3k)

the windows rattled from consistent gusts of wind, chilling drafts seeping in through the edges. the weather had been particularly bad the past week, alternating between heavy downpour and whistling winds. with this, you and ellie mostly stayed in, cooped up in the comfort of fleece blankets and old cable reruns. 

the two of you now sat on the couch, your intertwined legs covered by the large throw blanket the two of you shared. ellie absentmindedly traced figure-eights on your upper thigh where her hand rested, her arm draped limply over your waist. you glance up to watch the colors of the tv dance across her face, painting multicolored hues on the freckled apples of her cheeks. reaching up, you delicately rake her hair back from her face, your hand trailing down to cup the back of her neck.  

at this, ellie rears her head back to catch your stare from where your cheek lay on her chest, your eyes flicking between both of hers. “hi,” she prompts with a curious tilt of her head, a lazy smile teasing her lips. 

you hum in response, your gaze tracing the freckles adorning the high points of her face, the caramel flecks arranged like a constellation—a constellation you’d recognize in the dark, like a fingerprint.  

ellie moves to grab your chin and press her lips to yours in a slow and simple kiss. after a moment, she pulls back to swipe her thumb over your cheek and drags her hand back to cradle your head.  

“you’re just so pretty,” she mumbles while looking at your lips, her eyes quickly flicking up and slightly widening in realization that she’d said that out loud. you smooth her hair back with both hands before interlinking your fingers behind her neck, and a rosy blush covers her cheeks at your silent stare. you pull her back in by her shoulders, feeling the heat radiating through the thin cotton of her long-sleeved henley. her tongue prods the seam of your lips in permission, which you readily grant as you give an open-mouthed kiss.  

in no time at all, the kiss grows rushed and desperate, your hands tangling in her hair and hers clawing at your shoulders. your hands begin their way down her back when she abruptly pulls away in what seems to be self-restraint, her eyes screwed tightly shut as she rests her forehead on yours. 

“hey, hey, i’m here,” you assure, easing her back to meet your eyes.  

“i’m sorry,” she starts, “i just… i…” she trails off as she finally looks into your eyes, brows drawn together tightly in almost pain. the vibrant green of her eyes had almost entirely vanished, replaced by the black of her blown pupils, her intentions now clearer than ever. 

it wasn't like you two hadn't kissed; of course you had. they'd even gotten heated like this very kiss, but ellie had never displayed such hunger in her eyes, such restraint.  

you guys didn't want to rush anything. after all, you had all the time in the world together, so why speed through things when you could take your time exploring each other? 

but now you were ready. you had been for a while, and you find the words leaving you before you even realize what it means. 

“yes,” you breathe out, eyes darting across her face in anticipation as you await her response. she begins to ask what you mean but is cut off by your hands on either side of her face pulling her into a bruising kiss, teeth clashing in a fervent dance, answering any unspoken questions.  

she deeply hums into the kiss, grabbing on to your wrists and easing you back to lay against the cloth cushions of the couch. fingers teasing the hem of your shirt, she swiftly pulls it over your head and discards it somewhere in the room, leaving you in your simple bralette as she returns to her brutal determination in dismantling you. 

you thumb the waistband of your sleep shorts, your fingers beginning to untie the bow securing them to your hips. ellie watches you shimmy your shorts down your legs slack-jawed, then pauses their journey down, blurting out, “wait, wait. i have something for you.” 

she darts off you and into your shared bedroom, beckoning you with a call of your name. you enter the room to a dark blue gift bag on the bed with a name written on it in gold script that you wouldn’t even try to pronounce. pushing the black tissue paper aside to peek in, your eye catches on the lacy strap of what seemed to be a bra, a shade of red so dark it looked black in the dimmed light of the bedroom. 

fidgeting with her hands, ellie finally addresses you. “it’ll look nice, i think. go try it on,” she instructed, her head nodding to the cracked bathroom door. 

you follow her instructions and head to the bathroom with the small gift bag in tow, the door shutting behind you with a click. you’re met with your reflection, eyes wide and mouth agape in desire. setting the bag on the counter, you begin to remove the tissue paper to reveal the set. with the better lighting of the bathroom, you begin to see the intricacy of the lace and stitching.  

pulling the bra out, you hold it up to your chest and examine it in the mirror. a wine-red bustier style bra greets you, with tulle panels along the sides and laces running down the back for corset-style tightening. setting the bra down, you reach for the matching panties of the same red color. along with them comes a garter belt embellished with silver decals, laced scalloping trimming the edges. 

after taking a moment to gather yourself, you begin to carefully slip on the pieces of the set, careful not to tear anything. you secure the bra and position the garter belt to sit snugly on your hips and smooth your hands down your body in satisfaction; it did look nice.  

you quickly wipe the giddy smile off your face at the thought of ellie’s reaction and fix your hair, finally turning to exit the bathroom. as the door slowly opens, you see ellie quickly standing up from the bed to meet you, her chest caving at her audible gasp as her gaze leisurely rakes down your figure. suddenly shy, you glance at your feet and trail your hands down your sides to dry them off.  

trying to calm the rapid rise and fall of her shoulders, she shuts her mouth and begins her journey towards you, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. “jesus,” she hisses, her hands landing on your lace clad hips and venturing to your lower back to pull you into a slow but sensual kiss, evoking a shudder to rake down your spine.  

she spins you around to walk you back to the bed, the blanket tickling the backs of your thighs as she folds over you. as she crawls over you, both of her legs tighten around one of your thighs as she nudges her knee into your core, pressing your damp underwear to your clit and making you moan into her mouth. her kisses move to your neck, and you cage her head in with your forearms, hugging her head and willing her to stay where she was. her hand moves to your left breast to experimentally swipe a thumb over your nipple, the friction from the lace making you arch your back into her hand to chase the sensation. 

ellie slowly but surely pulls back to give you a starved stare, her arousal visible in the flush of her cheeks and the huffs and puffs of her chest. your eyes meet hers as she gives you one loaded stare—a silent plead for permission to take things further. her cold palms slide from their previous position on your boobs down to your waist, then your hips as she pushes the hem of your underwear down just a hair. you place your hand over hers, agreeing with her unspoken words as you move her hand with hers to push your underwear down to your mid-thigh.  

her hand stutters on its way down your thigh, stopping your underwear on its journey off your body. she simply stares at you, at your glossy cunt and how swollen it is from neglect. her index finger trails through the crease of your thigh and hip, created by your bent and spread knees. 

you take over and completely remove your underwear and fling it to a corner of the room. ellie quickly pulls her tank top over her head, leaving her in just a sports bra and startling you in the process from the sudden movement. 

finally, her hand moves to your core while she swipes a thumb up your slit, eliciting a throaty moan from you. she begins circling your clit, her gaze locked on your face and feeding off of your little whines and cries. you fold over and yelp when she inserts her middle finger inside you, her thumb still expertly moving around your pulsing nub.  

her fingers still moving in tandem on you, she breathes, "god, you have no idea how pretty you look right now. my pretty, needy girl." you moan at her words, and she nods, as if approving of your reaction and asking for more. 

the finger moving inside you was just constantly hitting that soft, spongy spot that she found so effortlessly, and you desperately clawed at her wrist and pleaded, "waitwaitwait- el i’m- i’m gonna-" she kisses you to shut you up, but ultimately obliges as she slows her movements down to a stop. 

she brings her fingers up to look at the mess you've made of them, then moves them to your mouth before ordering, "clean 'em up, baby." 

you do just that, propping up on your elbows to take her fingers in your mouth and swirl your tongue around them, humming at the tangy taste. looking up through your lashes, you see her face and how her bottom lip is pulled into her mouth, how her eyes lazily focus on yours. 

she lays down beside you and pats her chest before saying, "come sit." 

"what?" you question. 

"come sit—like on my face," she clarifies. 

"oh, i- you don't have to do that." 

"i know that, i want to," she insists. "now come on." 

she grabs your waist to guide you up as you straddle her torso, the cloth of her sports bra deliciously tickling your glistening cunt. as you shimmy up, she locks her hands under and around your thighs, strapping you close to her mouth.  

her warm breath feathers across you, and you stifle a shudder at the sensation. you feel her nose touch your clit and you jump up, causing her to huff in frustration. 

"i swear, if you don't fucking—" she pulls you by your thighs to sit flush against her mouth, "—sit down." you harshly drop against her lips and she hums into your vulva, making you groan against the back of your hand. 

you nearly scream as she licks one flat stripe up your slit, then your hands shoot out to catch your weight as your body threatens to fold flat over when she starts making out with your cunt. kissing on you as she would do on your mouth. your knees lock around her head as you thread your fingers into her muddy hair, rocking into her sloppy kisses. 

the room now smelled of sex, your moans and cries dancing with the vulgar smacks of her tongue. she switches from sloppy kisses to calculated flicks, her tongue bringing you closer to the edge just so. 

the vibrations of her pleased moans on your clit make your legs twitch each time, and she speeds up her movements, moving down to begin fucking into you with her tongue. your body takes over as you rock into her mouth, riding the slow buildup of pleasure while rolling your hips for your clit to meet her nose with every back-and-forth.  

but when ellie sucks on your clit so hard it makes you see stars, your orgasm catches you by surprise and drowns you in an all-consuming wave of ecstasy, your vision blurred by unshed tears as you cry her name out. she doesn't stop, though—her tongue continues its violent assault, sliding through your folds with ease thanks to your endless supply of slick. 

once you come down from your high and your eyes focus once more, you see ellie's eyes, still closed, and her tongue peeking out as she cleans you up in long, flat strips. her hands guide you off her to lay on the bed next to her.  

perched up on her elbow, she looks down at you and chuckled at how you still struggled to catch your breath.  

"jesus, you taste good. i can't believe we went that long without doing anything," she announces, looking lovingly at how your hair splays around you in a halo. 

"yeah," you breathlessly respond, "that was... that- i was..." you resort to just shaking your head to convey your disbelief at her sheer skill. 

"did i fuck the words out of you?" she teases, earning an annoyed glare from you. "relax," she laughs, "i'm just playing. you don't have to answer, i already know i did," she mumbles. you would fight her on it but can't seem to find the energy to when she scoops you into her arms and kisses the crown of your head. 

ellie's "g'night, my love" is the last thing you hear before falling into a deep sleep, warm from her embrace. 

a/n: so glad to get this OUT OF MY FUCKING DRAFTS i got this req prob 19 years ago and i've just had the worst writers block. i hope u like it anon :)))

click here!! oh and here too!! ˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶

[millermenapologist]

One of my favorite parts of TLOU2 is how Tommy tries to honor his brother's memory in a way Joel would approve of, and that means protecting Ellie even if it means possibly losing his life.

Because he's 100% right, when he says that Joel wouldn't have gone to Seattle to avenge their deaths. Joel's not vengeful. Joel doesn't seek revenge. Joel protects and internalizes; when he murders people, he does so to protect.

GIF source: lifesfibers.tumblr.com

When Tommy leaves for Seattle, giving strict order to Maria to not let Ellie out of the town's walls, he's doing so because he is doing anything in his power to honor what his brother would've wanted him to do, even if in a very roundabout way. He leaves for Seattle because he knows that now Ellie has her mind set on getting revenge, and hopes that, if he enacts it in her place, she won't leave the safety of Jackson in order to achieve it.

This is why the change between Seattle Tommy and Farm Tommy is so staggering: in the former, he's okay leaving without murdering Abby because his main goal was to keep Ellie safe and sound; in the latter, though, he has lost so much (his brother, his leg, his abilities of sniper, his wife) that the only way he can make sense of it is by pushing Ellie into finishing it.

More than halfway through the story, Tommy actually is vengeful for the first time. For the first time, him and Ellie are the same.

[justagalwhowrites]

So this may be awkward but I saw your dbf fic and thought what about best friend's dad? Obviously it would either have to be a no outbreak au where Sarah is in her 20s or several years after the show when Ellie is an adult. Maybe the oc is a few years older than Ellie or Sarah or whichever you choose. Maybe I just haven't read enough TLOU smut but this is one I haven't seen and I would love to read something like this!

OMG Hi bestie!

So THANK YOU FOR BEING PATIENT WITH THIS??? You sent this in FOREVER ago but I've been so hung up on Lavender and Beskar Doll I just didn't get around to this.

Anyway, HERE'S THE ASK FINALLY! I hope you like it!

UPDATE A/N: This is now a full series (has been for a while but I just realized I never linked to the master list from here.) If you'd like to read more, you can find it here.

New in Town

When you move to Austin for work, your best friend Sarah recommends that you hang out with her dad, Joel, to get to know the area. Sarah just never mentioned the fact that her dad is just your type.

Pairing: BFD!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT! Fingering, oral (male receiving), protected P in V sex. Legal age gap (Reader is 35 Joel is 47.) No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 5.6k (wtf is my problem)

You should have made Sarah text you a picture at the very least. 

The bar was starting to get busy and you’d realized about 15 minutes earlier that you had no fucking clue what your best friend’s dad looked like. 

“You’re sure it’s not weird that I hang out with your dad?” You asked Sarah the morning you left town. 

“It’s not weird,” she waved you off, her curls bouncing. “Promise. He’s not like… an old dad. He’s fun. You get along with me so you’ll get along with him. It’s at least something so you’re not stuck in Austin not knowing anybody.” 

“Yeah,” you nodded and then sighed, looking at your coffee. One last cup of the good stuff in Seattle before your flight in a few hours. 

There was a knot in your stomach at the thought of leaving, now that it was actually here. You’d been in Seattle for two years now after moving here for work. Sarah was the only other woman in your department - not to mention the only other person under 40. She might have been 10 years younger than you but the two of you had become fast friends. She’d been there for a year - she’d started fresh out of college - when you came aboard and was kind enough to let you in on the office politics. 

“So fucking glad to have another girl around here,” she said after you’d been there about two weeks, her arm looped through yours as you walked to a restaurant down the street from your office for lunch. “Lunch just isn’t as good with old dudes…” 

Making friends outside of the office was just as awkward as you remembered and it wasn’t long before you and Sarah were hanging out all the time outside of work, too. She was probably going to be the thing you missed most about Seattle. 

But the promise of a big promotion - setting up your own team at the new branch of your firm in Austin - was too good to pass up. 

“Hey,” she put her hand on your wrist from across the small table. “You’re going to kill it down there. Just remember to demand me when the time comes to add a junior copywriter.” 

“Well, simply no one else will do,” you smiled a little. She laughed. 

You finished your coffee and Sarah dropped you off at the airport - your office paying to ship all your things down - and you flew off to your new life in Texas. 

After a week of settling in, you finally caved and reached out to Sarah’s dad. She told you to just text him and you kind of hoped he wouldn’t respond. Once the ball was in his court, you’d be off the hook. If he never responded and you never met the guy, Sarah could hardly hold it against you. 

“Hi! Is this Joel Miller?” You texted originally, following it up with your name and - just in case Sarah hadn’t bothered to tell him you were going to be texting - some indication that you weren’t a total stranger. “I just moved to town and Sarah told me to text you.” 

“There,” you said to yourself, taking a sip of wine as you sat back on your couch. “Done. Not my problem any….” 

Your phone lit up on your coffee table and you groaned. Of course he texted back. Of course he texted back fucking immediately. 

“Hi,” he said. “Sarah mentioned you might text. Said you might need someone to show you around town. Want to grab a drink later this week?” 

You rapped your fingers against the globe of your glass, the wine lush and red. 

“Sure,” you said. “I don’t start work until next week, so just let me know when and where works for you and I’ll be there!” 

You made plans to meet up two days later. You’d showed up a few minutes early, wanting to get the lay of the land before you met a stranger in a bar. 

Joel, it seemed, was a bit late. You kept looking up at the door, waiting to see someone who looked something like Sarah walk in. But so far, there wasn’t anyone who fit the bill. A few guys who looked like they were UT students deciding to check out something further from campus, four guys who who definitely had just gotten off motorcycles, one man who was almost stupid hot and looked about 10 years too young to be Sarah’s dad and a guy about your age with a date. 

You glanced at your phone. 9:13. At what point did you call it? Maybe try to pick up the hot guy who seemed to be hovering on his own at the bar. You hadn’t gotten laid in a while and you’d at least done your hair and makeup, even if you hadn’t tried to look like you were looking for a hookup. 

Your phone screen hadn’t fully dimmed yet when it lit up bright, vibrating with Joel’s name on the caller ID. You sighed and answered. 

“Hello?” You pressed your free hand against your ear, trying to drown out the sound of the bar behind you, but it sounded noisy on his end, too. 

“Hi,” he said, a bit of a Texas twang in his voice. “Just wanted to make sure you were still plannin’ on comin’ out tonight…” 

“Yeah,” you laughed a little. “I was wondering the same about you, I’m here…” 

“Where?” He said. “Don’t see you…” 

You started looking around then, too, looking at every face at every table around you before you settled on… the stupid hot guy at the bar. 

Who looked too young to have a kid Sarah’s age. 

Who had a phone pressed to his ear. 

Who was now staring at you. 

You raised a hand and smiled awkwardly, giving him a small wave. 

He looked surprised for a moment before hanging up his phone, grabbing his beer from the bar, and heading for your table. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said, setting his drink down across from you and taking his seat. “I didn’t mean to keep you waitin’, I was just expecting someone Sarah’s age…” His eyes went wide for a second. “Not that you look old or anythin’, just… Not what I was expecting.” 

“Yeah, Sarah was the baby of the Seattle office,” you smiled a little. “She’s the best though. Thank God for her, I’d have been so bored there without her.” 

“Yeah,” he smiled and nodded. “She is the best.” 

Up close, Joel was still stupid hot. Uncomfortably hot. It was not fair how hot he was for him to be off limits because he was your best friend’s dad. His hair was dark and a little shaggy and you had to fight the urge to brush an unruly curl back from his brow. His eyes were the warmest brown with a light to them that made you want to just stare at him for a while. His crooked smile with one dimple, his slightly patchy beard, his unreasonably sculpted arms for a man who had to have at least a decade on you unless he was a teenager when Sarah was born. If you hadn’t met him this way, you’d be trying to get him home for at least a one night stand. But he was your best friend’s dad. Even if he made your core tighten and heat pool around your hips. 

It turned out, you and Joel had more in common than you’d expected. You liked the same music and he knew some good live music spots in town. You were both into hiking - and both agreed that the views in this part of the country would be kind of lacking compared to the Pacific Northwest. You both liked trying to find the spiciest food in town and eating it as a matter of principle. 

Of course, you hadn’t spent much time with men the age you THOUGHT Joel was going to be. Your only experience with men in their 50s was at work and that usually involved showing them how to save a word document as a PDF. You’d gone into this expecting to sit awkwardly with the guy for about an hour before going your separate ways. But you were pretty sure he was in his mid 40s, the same age as a lot of the guys you’d gone out with back in Seattle, and the more drinks you had the harder it was to remember that you weren’t on a date. You were hanging out with your best friend’s dad. She probably had to beg him to meet up with you, he probably had a girlfriend he’d much rather be spending time with on a Friday night instead of his daughter’s friend who was new in town. 

But he seemed happy enough to stay for hours. The two of you were laughing over a particularly bad movie you’d somehow both seen - Giant Spider Invasion - when the bar announced last call. 

“Shit,” Joel looked at his watch, clamping his hand over it after a second. “Didn’t realize how late it got. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take up your whole damn night…” 

“No, I’m sorry,” you waved him off, reaching for your phone for the first time in hours to try and order an Uber. “I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than entertain me.” 

“Not exactly,” he half smiled at you. That fucking dimple. “Don’t really got a thirvin’ social life. I get the feeling this arrangement was as much for me as it was you, knowin’ Sarah.” 

“She’s cunning, that one,” you said, putting in your destination address. You groaned. “Shit!”

“What?” Joel asked. 

“Surge pricing,” you sighed. “Come ON, it’s almost 2 a.m., it can’t be that busy…” 

“It’s homecomin’ weekend at the school,” he shrugged. “Everyone’s in town drinking.” 

“That’ll do it,” you sighed, bracing yourself to spend almost $100 on a car ride home. 

“I can give you a ride,” he said. You looked up from your phone, frowning. “I’m good to drive.”

“I don’t want to put you out,” you said, about to push the button anyway. 

“You’re not,” he said. “Trust me.” 

*** 

Joel was very nearly in over his head with you. 

Every part of him was practically screaming “mistake, mistake, mistake, you are a big fucking mistake!” 

You were Sarah’s best friend. 

You were more than a decade younger than him. 

You were starting a new job and a new life and he really shouldn’t be trying to date someone he’d just hold back. 

YOU WERE SARAH’S BEST FRIEND. 

But none of that seemed to matter. He was damn near ready to kiss whatever asshole at Uber came up with surge pricing. He’d never been happier for an excuse to give someone a ride home. 

It had been years - at least - since he’d felt like this about anyone. He’d known you for hours, no time at all, but it felt like years. Like he could say anything to you and you’d understand it. You were obviously smart, so fucking smart. After talking about movies with you for five minutes he was half convinced you saw an entirely different movie than he had, talking about allegories and symbolism and holding onto little lines he wasn’t sure anyone else would notice or think about twice. He wanted to see if you’d let him get to know you that way, if you’d have any interest in trying to know him that way. Fuck, he wanted to know you.

It didn’t help that he’d spotted you the second he was in the bar, absently turning your glass in your fingers, looking at one of the University of Texas themed Bud Light posters on the wall like you were examining it, your eyebrows drawn together, your mind clearly somewhere else entirely. You were fucking gorgeous. Gorgeous in a way that it was a problem, it was distracting, it made him not want to think about or look at or consider anything else. It took conscious effort to not stare at you. When he hadn’t known who you were, he’d been praying Sarah’s friend would stand him up so he could go talk to you. Fuck, he wanted to talk to you. 

And then you answered the phone. 

And you were Sarah’s best friend. 

Fuck.

“You settlin’ in OK and all?” He asked after you gave him your address and he programmed it into Google Maps. 

“Mostly,” you nodded. “It’d be better if I could actually get a maintenance guy to come out to my place but…” 

Joel frowned. 

“What’s goin’ on?” 

“The garbage disposal has a hell of a leak,” you sighed. “I don’t know shit about plumbing so I’m afraid to try to fix it on my own. And the ceiling fan in my bedroom seems like it’s trying break out from its drywall prison whenever I turn it on so that’s been pretty useless. Maintenance keeps saying they’ll come by but they never do. I don’t think I’ll stay in that place longer than a year, this is what I get for apartment hunting from across the country.” 

“I could look at it for you,” Joel shrugged before he was smart enough to stop himself. 

“No,” you laughed and shook your head. “You’ve done enough for me as it is, I cannot ask you…” 

“You didn’t ask, I offered,” he said. “I’m a contractor, my area of expertise is fixin’ shit shoddy builders fucked up. You have plans tomorrow? I can come by, take a look.” 

Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid. That’s what he was. Fucking stupid. 

“Tomorrow would be great, actually,” you said. “I’m just about unpacked but I have a whole box of under the sink kitchen stuff that’s still sitting on my table and driving me insane. But you’re sure I’m not putting you out? I swear, it’s nothing that urgent, I just need to light a fire under management’s ass…” 

“Not puttin’ me out,” he smiled a little at the idea of that. Fuck, you were doing him a favor, giving him an excuse to see you again. 

Stupid. 

Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid STUPID. 

SARAH’S. BEST. FRIEND. 

“Early afternoon OK?” He asked. “Unless you gotta be somewhere…” 

“Yeah, so far my vibrant social life here includes you and the barista down the street who now knows I prefer my lattes skim,” you laughed. “I’ll be around, come over whenever works for you. I hugely appreciate it, you have no idea.” 

He watched you go into your apartment when he dropped you off, a townhouse that had definitely been built in the last five years. He sighed and shook his head. Shoddy fucking craftsmanship, things breaking that fast. He’d help you find a decent place when your lease was up. 

As a friend. 

Because he could be friends with you. That would be fine. Encouraged by his meddling but well-meaning daughter who’d arranged this to begin with. Friends help friends apartment hunt. He could be your friend. 

He fucked his hand before he passed out, trying to think of anything besides grabbing you and kissing you at the bar as he did. 

“Hey Dad! How’d it go last night?” 

His eyes were still bleary as he read the text from his daughter the next morning. 

“Hey Baby Girl,” he wrote back, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. How was it already 10 a.m.? How was Sarah a morning person? She sure as shit didn’t get that from him. “Went fine. Your friend seems nice.” 

She wrote back immediately. 

“She’s the BEST. Seriously. Give her like 5 minutes and she’s going to show you the best food in town, she always found the coolest restaurants up here, places no one else from the office even knew existed.” 

Joel smiled a little at that. He’d heard a lot about you over the last few years, now that he thought about it. He wasn’t big on social media so he only ever saw pictures Sarah texted him - usually a selfie in front of some tourist attraction as she stuck her tongue out at him - so he’d never had a face to put to the stories. But you’d become an integral part of her life in Seattle. 

You’d started as a “cool new coworker.” Then you got a name. And then you just became a “we.” “We went to this awesome new restaurant.” “We checked out this concert last night.” “We decided to go up the Space Needle because screw it, why not be a tourist in your own city sometimes?” He never needed to ask who she meant, he knew she was talking about you. 

He just hadn’t known it was you. 

Which was another reason this was stupid. He could not even consider doing something with you, even just in his head, not when you were that close with his daughter. 

“You guys going to hang out again?” She asked. “I think you’d be friends!” 

Joel ground his teeth for a second. 

“Don’t need you to find me friends just because Uncle Tommy got married.” 

Sarah replied right away. 

“Well if you did it yourself maybe I wouldn’t,” she said. “And she needs friends, too. Plus this is really all for my benefit, if she can swing me coming to the new Austin office and y’all are friends, we can all just hang out together. Way easier to coordinate my schedule.” 

Joel laughed a little. 

“Going to help her with something at her apartment today,” he sent back. “We’ll see if she wants me around after that.” 

Joel managed to keep from going to your house the second he was dressed. This wasn’t a problem he’d had since he was a fucking teenager, obsessed with some girl from his bio class. He was looking at his watch every five minutes, hoping it was reasonable to leave his house and go to yours. 

He called it at 11:45. He figured he’d bring you lunch. You said you liked spicy food - the spicier the better - and if your garbage disposal was leaking, chances are you couldn’t cook much. You’d need to eat something. It was the polite thing to do, he reasoned. 

Joel went to his favorite taco truck and got a little bit of almost everything. It was way too much food for two people but fuck it, he didn’t care. As long as it was something you’d like, he really didn’t give a shit. 

You were in some kind of matching not quite sweatsuit when you opened the door, the tan fabric looking so fucking soft. 

“Hey!” You smiled broadly, like him coming over made your day. You looked at your phone screen. “Damn you really mean early afternoon don’t you?” 

He glanced at his watch. 12:23. 

“Figured you could use some lunch,” he held up the takeout bag. “Didn’t think you were able to cook much, disposal outta commission…” 

“Are you really bringing me food when you came over to do me a favor?” You asked, brows raised. He shrugged. “They weren’t kidding about that whole southern gentleman thing, were they?” 

“Gotta give you pretty things some reason to put up with us,” he smiled a little. You smiled back and held the door open for him. 

Your place was sparsely decorated but comfortable and it looked like you were just about unpacked. Joel set the bag of tacos on the small table off your kitchen and you staked your claim to the spiciest one. 

“If it’s too hot for you, no shame in tappin’ out,” he teased, unwrapping his own taco. 

“I eat men with low spice tolerance for breakfast,” you waved him off. “This’ll be cake.” 

You took a bite and chewed for a second before your eyes went wide. Joel tried not to laugh at you. 

“Holy shit,” you held a hand in front of your full mouth as you spoke, your eyes watering. “That’s so hot! How the fuck…” 

“Yeah, you northerners don’t know what you’re dealin’ with,” Joel smirked. “Welcome to the big leagues.” 

“Oh, it’s on now, Miller,” you said, wincing a little. “I’ve got this, you have no idea…” 

He laughed but you finished the taco, eyes watering and face sweating, the whole way. 

“Alright, think you’ve earned some handyman work,” he smiled a little. You chugged water, somehow managing to look good as you did. “Kitchen sink right?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Run the water for longer than 30 seconds and it leaks like crazy…” 

He did as you said, opening the cabinet below. You had a pot inside to catch any stray water. He turned the faucet on and after less than a minute, water was gushing out from the pipe leading down to the disposal. He shut it off. 

“Good news is, it ain’t the disposal itself,” he said, putting his tools down beside the cabinet. “Looks like they just replaced it and did a shit job setting it up…” 

He got down on the ground, lying down so his upper body was in the cabinet just as you came and perched on the counter nearby, watching him closely. 

“Let me know what I can do to help,” you said. “I feel bad, you coming over, bringing me food, fixing my shit…” 

“Don’t,” he said, frowning up at the plumbing. “Got me outta my house… can you hand me the wrench that’s in the lower part of the tool kit, the adjustable one?” 

He heard you slide off the counter to the floor and rifle through his tools before handing him the wrench, your fingertips brushing his when you did. His heart sped up. Fuck this was stupid. 

You settled in on the floor near him, near enough that he’d feel your leg brush his when he adjusted while he worked. You asked him about his favorite band and he asked you about yours. About favorite foods. About the one place on Earth you’d go if money and time were no object. 

“Alright, think I’ve got it,” he said. “Do me a favor, turn the water on…” 

“You sure?” You asked, a frown in your voice. “Don’t you want to sit up first?” 

“I’m confident,” he smiled a little. 

“Alright, turning it on now.” 

And his confidence was correct. 

For a minute. 

And then it was like the floodgates opened and Joel was suddenly soaked. 

“Cut it!” 

You scrambled to obey as he got out from under the sink, dripping wet, shirt soaked. 

“Shit,” he looked down at himself. 

“I am so sorry!” Your hands were over your mouth, eyes wide. “One minute, let me grab you a towel…” 

You ran down the hall and came back with a small pile of towels handing them to him one by one. He started with himself and then put towels down below the sink. 

“I’m so sorry, Joel,” your eyes were so wide and earnest. 

“Not your fault,” he said, getting up, feeling like more than a bit of an idiot. “Your maintenance people just fucked something up big time…” 

“I have a washer and dryer,” you said quickly. “Let me wash that for you…” 

“Thanks,” he said and he peeled off the wet shirt and handed it to you. “Appreciate it…” 

He was so busy trying not to look at you that he hadn’t realized that you were staring at him, looking up him slowly, your lower lip in your teeth. Like you were interested in him, too. Like you were trying to keep your hands to yourself, too. 

Your eyes met his. This was stupid, this was very very stupid. You were standing close to him, so fucking close to him. 

“Joel,” you breathed. 

He was kissing you before he could talk himself out of it. 

*** 

You weren’t sure if he kissed you or you kissed him but you didn’t really care because fuck, he was touching you. Your arms went around his neck and his hands went to your hips, pulling your body flush against his as he all but devoured you. 

Like he’d done nothing but think of this since the night before, too. 

You were up for an hour after you got home, cursing your best friend for having such a hot dad and trying to not think about what would have happened if you’d dragged him into your apartment when he dropped you off as you ran your vibrator over your needy clit. 

Because how could you face Sarah if you’d fucked yourself to the thought of her dad? 

But you weren’t worrying about that now. 

Instead, you were leading Joel blindly through your apartment, to your bedroom. Your fingers tangled in his hair - wet from the explosive leak in your sink - as you kissed him. You pulled him against you as you sat back on your bed, crawling back toward the middle of it and tugging him along with you so he was hovering over you. 

“You sure…” he began but you nodded so fast that he didn’t even finish asking, just smiling for a second before kissing you again. 

His tongue was insistent inside your mouth, like he was trying to reach every part of you, but you liked it. The hot, aching need gathering in you liked it, liked that he was demanding and hungry for you to the point that, when his tongue slid back behind his own teeth it’s because he wanted to bite your lip with a growl. 

You squirmed out of the soft wrap that was covering your arms and he pulled at your tank top, peeling it away from you and leaving you in just your lacy bralette you liked to wear before you really got dressed for the day. His hand cupped your breast, palm brushing your firm nipple, and you moaned. Joel slipped his hand into the lace and touched the bare skin below and you involuntarily thrust your hips up toward him. He smiled against your mouth at that. 

“So eager,” he said, teasing. 

“We both have way too much on,” you panted against him. 

“Let me help you with that,” he slid his fingers below the band of the bralette and tugged it up and over your head, leaving you naked from the waist up. “Jesus Christ…” 

“What?” You asked, breathless. 

“And I thought you were gorgeous before,” his eyes went over you slowly, tracing the edges of you. “Fucking hell…” 

You smiled and arched into kissing him again, fumbling with the button and zipper on his jeans as you did. When you got his pants open, you slipped your hand inside his underwear, finding his thick, hard cock and stroking him. It was gentle at first, getting a feel for him and fuck he was hard as steel below your touch. He was also easily the biggest cock you’d ever held, so thick and long you knew you were going to be feeling him for hours after you were done. 

Not that you minded. You wanted nothing more than to walk around with a reminder of him inside you for a while. 

Joel’s hands ran over you until he reached your pants and underwear. He pulled them off together, pausing just before your panties would be so far down that they would expose your dripping, aching slit. He pulled his lips from you. 

“This really what you want?” He asked quietly, his eyes searching yours. 

“I’ve been wanting this since last night,” you smiled a little at him. 

“Fuck, I was hopin’ you’d say that.” 

He pulled what remained of your clothes off and cast it aside, nudging you down so you were flat on the bed. He ran his finger over your slit, dipping into you just enough to make your entrance try to grip him but not enough that it gave your body something to hold. You moaned. 

“Don’t worry, beautiful,” he pressed his finger against your clit, rubbing in circles, making you moan. “Gonna take real good care of you…” 

He trailed his finger back down and sank it into you as his thumb pressed against your clit, making your body go tight around him. You rocked your hips against him and arched your back and you heard the smile in his voice as your hands flew to your comforter, knotting in the fabric there. 

“There you go,” he said softly, kissing over your jaw to your throat, nipping and sucking you as he went. “Fuck you’re tight, need you to relax and come for me so I can get inside you…” 

He added another finger, hooking them up into you, pressing into your inner walls and making you get tense and tight before you came hard around him, pussy throbbing so hard it almost hurt. 

“You’re gonna feel so goddamn good,” he groaned as he slid his fingers from you. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and pulled them down with his jeans before he stroked himself, his fingers still slick with you as he did. 

“One sec,” you managed to find your voice and you stretched back to reach into your nightstand and grabbed a box of condoms. You needed to open it and pull one foil packet apart from the rest. “Sorry, haven’t needed one of these in a bit…” 

“Won’t hear me arguin’,” he half smiled at you. Fuck, that fucking dimple. You opened the condom and slid it on his tip, watching his chest heave as you did. You looked up at him through your eyelashes as you took his covered tip in your mouth, wrapping your lips around him and using them to unroll the condom the rest of the way onto his thick, hard length. “Fuck, beautiful, tryin’ to rush me through this?” 

You just sucked him for a moment, his head lodged at the back of your throat as you started to work his shaft with your mouth. His hand flew to your head, fingers twisting in your hair, as you went. He moaned as your tongue pressed against the underside of him before curling around his shaft. His grip on your hair tightened and you picked up the pace, all but choking yourself on his cock, not able to help yourself, until he pulled you back off him sharply, abruptly. 

“Really don’t want things to be over that fast,” he panted, tilting his head back toward the ceiling for a moment. “Fucking hell you’re good at that…” 

You smirked a little and he pushed you back down onto the bed before lining his cock up with your entrance. He paused and you moaned, rocking your hips against him, your whole body feeling like a spring that was coiled a bit too tight. His hands splayed wide over your thighs for a moment before sliding over your stomach, your breasts, back down again. 

“Still want this?” He asked, voice needy. 

“Want you,” you panted, nodding. “Need you, need you inside me…” 

“Good,” he said, his large hands spread on your thighs, holding you open for him, watching where he was entering you as his cock split you open. He moaned, panting for breath. “Fuck, gonna be addicted to you, just fuckin’ know it…” 

You pressed your hips up into him as he filled you totally, collapsing onto you as his hips met yours. He stilled in you, giving you a moment to adjust to the delicious stretch of him inside you. He was big enough that - if you hadn’t been so desperate for him, if he hadn’t already made you come once - you were sure that it would feel like he was breaking you in two. Like this, though, it was all pleasure with a hint of pain, just enough to make you feel so fucking full you thought you might burst with it. 

He started slowly but forcefully, dragging his cock back so only his head was inside you, his pace so slow that you felt his head on every ridge inside you. But he thrust himself back into you hard, like he couldn’t bear not feeling you again immediately, like being without you was almost painful. 

But he increased his pace, thrusting himself deep into you and pulling back before changing again, more rocking his hips down into you than fully thrusting into you. It meant he kept almost constant pressure on your clit, that the head of him was all but permanently against the spot inside that you immediately sought out whenever you used your vibrator. Your back arched into him and your pussy was so tight around him you were certain you couldn’t get any more wanting. 

“Fuck, need to feel you come while I’m inside you,” he managed, sliding his arms below you to press your bare chest against him. “Please, Beautiful, fuck, please come for me…” 

“Joel!” You cried out his name as you came around him and he fucked into you for another moment before you felt him throb inside as he spilled into the condom. 

He collapsed on top of you, panting for breath and you ran your hands over his broad back. After a minute, he kissed you gently and pulled himself from your wrung out body and lying beside you. 

“So,” he was still short of breath. “Got anythin’ around here I can come by and fix tomorrow?” 

You laughed a little, trying not to think of the fact that you’d just fucked your best friend’s dad. Trying not to think of the fact that there was no way this could be a one time thing. 

“Oh, I’m sure I can think of something,” you said. “I’m sure I can think of a lot of things.” 

[urcursebreaker]

burning body waiting. (ellie williams x fem!reader)

read chapters one, two, and three here.

warnings: 18+ content, canon-typical violence, gore, angst, graphic smut, scissoring, fingering, use of marijuana. | word count: 11.7k.

chapter 4: match in the dark

❝ the gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it. ❞ — richard siken.

. . .

The stories always say that love is something you fall into.

For you, it's always been a bludgeoning, throttling force, bone-shattering and breath-robbing; sudden and violent and jarring.

So why does this feel not like a punch to the gut but a slow and tortuous ailment of your health? An intrusion of sickness and vein-pulsing agony?

Instead of pummeling you with a lethal blow, your feelings for Ellie crept and slunk through your bones, a terminal parasite, malignant and festering inside. Until it was a sure thing. A cancer. Until your veins were blackened with heady need. Until there was a dark, frothing plague teeming from your heart, hammering to a consistent tune.

Ellie, Ellie, Ellie.

Or maybe you don't love her.

Maybe it's some third sinister thing. Living in the cracks of cruelty that stretch between friend and lover.

Last night, after baring witness to Ellie's breakdown, the sound of her wailing, heaving sobs followed you into a tenuous sleep.

You dreamt of a young girl, a smattering of freckles garnishing her sun-kissed face and arms, familiar, mossy blue eyes brimming with unshed tears. She clutched a watch in her fist, it's face splintered, cracks like lightening fracturing across the broken surface. She lurched it into the rapid waters of the river she stood before, her eyebrows pinched in earnest, chest heaving.

"Why are you so sad?" You had asked the girl, your voice a whisper in the wind, not fully belonging to you.

The girl only released a long, heavy breath and pivoted away, marching down an unmanicured path of ferns and overgrowth. She grew taller and leaner as she strode away, until the figure that dissipated through the line of trees was one you have slept beside. 

And now you are woken up in that damn 7/11 to that same girl firmly shaking you.

Except now she's older— and a new scar marred her lip. A new slit cleaved her brow. And a new, harsh edge of ferocity contoured her face— still so young, in a world that would never allow her to be.

She had to shake you a few times before you came to, snapping awake in a bleated panic, lurching up. She was huddled over you, a finger to her lips, a solemn alarm flaring in her pale eyes. The overhead vines careening from the high rafters billowed gently with the breeze; the serenity of it deceiving to what prowled the weeds.

"To the left," she mouths meticulously, and you nod, carefully slipping out of your sleeping bag, heart drumming ceaselessly.

She unsheathes her switchblade and slinks away, her eyes trained on the glassless wall as she stations behind a counter, distractedly gesturing for you to follow.

You slowly retrieve your shotgun from the littered floor and pocket a shiv you crafted the night prior, shooting brisk glances over your shoulder as you inch to Ellie's side. A faint whistle rises from the swaying grass.

Fuck. More Seraphites.

They must be tracking you, if they're spreading this far into Seattle. They tend to lurk on the outskirts, basing along the edges of the city so they can terminate anyone who attempts to get inside.

You never heard of them abandoning posts before. Killing over a dozen of them must have earned you their vengeance.

Ellie must have a similar thought, for when you reach her side, she whispers, "I should have gone to their base and killed every last one of them." Her face was grim and hard with fury, jaw barred, as she glared over the counter in the general direction of the whistle.

You follow her gaze and your muscles tense. The piercing afternoon sun glints off the metal tip of an arrow— aimed directly at you.

"Get down!" You shout jitterly, just as the potent snap of the bows tension unleashing splits through the silence of the day. You shove Ellie down and duck over her right as it spears loudly through the chipping wall behind you, where her head had been precarious seconds before.

She looks up at you with wide eyes, her knuckles gleaming white against the shine of her blade. Her momentary shock morphs into a scowl that manifests on her face.

She shrugs her shotgun off her shoulder and aims it for the weeds— blasting through the first outline of a human that she sees without a second thought. Thickets of seared, chunky blood burst through the air, followed by a series of sharp, undulating whistles. Your ears ring boisterously from the gunshot.

You sense movement to your right and crawl past Ellie— who clips another Seraphite, her body rocking with the force of the shot— to investigate. Fortunately, your backs are covered by two withstanding, cavernless walls, leaving only the hole to the right and the sizeable gap overhead.

Ellie seems to have the other wall covered.

You use a rusting shelf as a barricade, crouching, shiv in hand, the blade biting through the cloth you wound around the bottom. You turn it over in your hands, tongue prodding your lip, casting furtive looks above you every couple seconds to ensure nobody inflicted an unexpected aerial attack.

Arrows rain down, piercing the walls, clattering off the concrete. Gunshots boom thunderously, reverberating through the vacant city, paired with the guttural screams of those they met. You chance a peek at Ellie to find her completely unscathed, propped on one knee, squinting through the thick scope of her rifle. She must've swiftly exchanged weapons while you were looking away; always efficient.

You swivel back around and feel the tiny hairs on the nape of your neck raise at the shaved head poking through the whirling canary, only about ten feet away. You hold your breath and flush your back with the shelf, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

He slithers into the room, bow drawn, frame veiled by a cloak seeped with rain water. Brutal, discomfiting burn scars eclipse half of his face, as if he were lowered, sideways, into a pit of roaring flames.

Back at the Front, everyone always refers to the Seraphite's as Scars. It's starting to make sense why; you had never seen one this close before.

He puckers his lips to whistle, and you deign that as your opportunity, before he summons another Scar. You spring out from behind the shelf and drill your blade through the side of his neck, tearing through tendons. "Gotcha!" you breathe sardonically.

His large body crumples in your arms. You lower him to the floor with a dull, sappy thud, blood instantly pooling across the concrete, lapping at the tips of your boots.

An insistent whistle echoes closely from the weeds he emerged from, and you mutter a curse, hoisting up your gun and loading it with bloodied fingers. You're about to shoot the nearing figure when a brutish man descends from the crater in the ceiling— landing on top of you.

"Fuck!" Your scream of raw surprise rips through your throat as you plummet under his weight, your arm twisted unnaturally and agonizingly beneath his body.

He yanks you back by your hair, peeling your body off the ground with ease, and you wrestle with his unyielding grip, grunting as you squirm and peer at him over your shoulder. His eyes are crazed, a deep, rigid scar splitting his cheek, fatal determination overtaking his face.

You think fast, hastily fumbling for the blade in his companions sputtering throat, writhing under his formidable hold, your breathing sparse as he crushes you. "Feel Her love," the man growls in an accented drawl, his pick-axe reered back, poised to strike.

You successfully dislodge your blade just in time.

You arch your arm back as forcefully as you can from the obstructive angle, nicking him in the chest— just enough for him to stagger back and graze his digits over the superficial wound— and for you to crawl out from underneath him.

You only make it up to your knees before the handle of his pick-axe is caging your throat, crushing your windpipes, a hoarse whine wheezing from your lips. He hauls you back, and you flail for the bar compressing your neck, feet aimlessly lashing and kicking the floor. "El—"

Dots swim and flood your vision. Your flickering pulse rattles droningly in your skull. You can't breathe. You're dying. You're going to die. You're going to—

"Don't you fucking touch her!" Ellie bellows.

Suddenly, the pick-axe falls from your throat, clattering with a resounding echo to the floor, and you drop right along with it. Through the haze of your disjointed vision you see the previous keeper of your fate— Ellie's switchblade protruding from his head, before he slams lifelessly to the floor.

You rake in breaths hungrily, the sudden, painful burst of oxygen blazing like fire through your lungs. You claw listlessly at your throat, as if that will stop the blistering burn, or vanquish the coppery tang of blood rendering your tongue.

Ellie then shoots his already deceased body twice— his immobile carcass lurching, jolting with the swift bullets— and doesn't spare the dead Scar a second glance before shooting the one approaching in the weeds with masterful precision.

He thumps to the ground with a muffled groan of anguish, and his departure is followed by a wave of dense, apprehensive silence.

Ellie lingers in that taut, defensive stance for a moment, her shoulders tense, face lined with concentration as she sweeps her gaze over the sprawling field. Eyes skittering over the towering buildings in a speedy examination.

And then her eyes fall to you, alarm leeching the color from her sharp face. She quickly lowers her gun and bunches her stiff shoulders. "Are you alright?" She demands brusquely.

You nod skittishly, chest heaving with your rapid, hungry breaths. "Fine," you croak out, voice hoarse and gravelly, scraping out of your raw throat.

She nods absently, slinging her gun over her shoulder and bending down to fist the knife puncturing the man's head. She gives it a forceful, ruthless tug, his upper body heaving off the blood-blemished ground. A harrowing crimson cascades down his skull, glistening over her fingers. She yanks it out of him with a second, ardent jerk, and he slumps onto the floor, his own gore splattering repellently through the air. She surveys the blood and bits of cartilage on her blade before calmly wiping it off on her pants.

You scarcely register the disturbing scene of the Seraphite's you downed together.

Ellie's callousness must be wearing off on you. The dark pond of sudsy blood gathering around your feet ignites only a faint ripple of disgust in you; and a hint of knee-buckling relief, that you had someone so unapologetically cutthroat at your defense.

She offers you a steady hand and you take it. She hauls you to your feet, and you waver, your grip unabashed and bruise inciting. "Are you okay?" You ask attentively, a tremor underlying your tinny voice as you eye her top to bottom.

On the exterior, she's untouched by harm, and the relief that floods you is instantaneous.

"I am if you are," she says with a dim smile, surveying you for injury in turn. "We should get the fuck out of here, though. You sure you're good?"

"I'm fine," you offer a meek, hopefully reassuring smile back, unhanding her. You clear your throat and discard your broken, useless shiv on the floor, your breathing evening out. "Lead the way, my noble Knight," you tease with a shaky grin.

She rolls her eyes with affection and mimics a flourishing bow. "Yes, my Queen," she snorts, before pivoting away, heedlessly overstepping the dead body of your attacker and trudging for the opening she'd been guarding, her backpack already slung over her shoulder.

Your scratchy, cackling laugh scorches your throat, but you stifle the dizzying pain, her responding laugh, breathy and chittering, making the hurt worth it.

It was the sweetest thing you have ever heard. So light and natural and opposing to the violence she had wielded mere minutes ago to protect you.

As you trail after her, trusting her direction without question, you think you'd let her be as mean to you as she needed to be if you could hear her laugh like that again.

Which may be the scariest thing of all.

• • •

ELLIE

Her resolve was dissipating through her fingers. Now particles, everything she fought for was reduced to inconceivable dust, streaking through the wind, escaping her clutches.

She had destroyed versions of herself, tapered off past selves, trimmed and manufactured herself into this precarious thing that she was now.

A shell, filled by a need to take back all that had been stolen; a vessel for her grief and anger. She felt like she lived and breathed the horror that clung to her insides, fermented and congealed, taloned rage clawing it's way out of her with every step she took closer and closer to reclaiming the vengeance she was owed; the debt that was due.

But now the calamity in her mind has quieted. Her pain felt distant and hushed; it watched and whispered. She was never truly liberated from it. Only when she's with you does she feel that boulder lift, that bone-crushing mass of misery eased off her soul. But it's hearty weight lingers phantomly, etching itself into her bones.

She glances at you through the waning firelight, your thoughtful expression dim in the flickering amber glow. Your eyebrows are skewered, lips pursed, eyes indulgently roving over the pages of the tattered book splayed across your lap.

She had no idea how you found the room to store useless objects. From your brothers stuffed childhood bear, a chunky, faded hot-pink cassette player, to a couple weathered, worm-eaten books, you seemed to carry only your indulgences.

When she was fourteen, her backpack was similar. It overflowed with graphic novels and worthless trinkets. Joel had everything they needed, carrying double his weight in supplies. Despite everything she'd seen, despite everything he did, he gave her a simple life. One she could not envision herself pursuing ever again, without him there to urge her on.

She wonders if your brother was that guiding light for you, too, a match in the dark, as Joel had been for her.

She looks at you, and she wonders if you have ever truly been alone.

You perform with a buoyancy and easiness she cannot replicate. Either you have never known suffering at all, a portrait of innocence under a brush of death; or you knew it too well, with an intimacy that left you unblinking and acclimated to its sharp edges. When it tried to cut through you, it's relentless knifing was fruitless, it's slashes meeting metal, sliding off the shine of your armor.

Do you even know it's there? That even though you are not brutal and unforgiving— as she herself had become— remaining steady and balanced under the ruthless beat of the worlds bitter drum was a shield in itself?

She both admires and envies your ability to let it all roll off your back as it's hurled at you.

"What?" You drawl at her notably indiscreet examination, amusement seeping into your tone like liquid gold, eyes unstraying from the pages— though she can see, even from the distance that separates you, that your eyes are bright and swimming with it.

For months now, she has locked her feelings down, imprisoned them behind walls of adamant, impenetrable steel. Had deliberately tailored a mask that would keep them from slipping through.

And then there's you. Feeling unabashedly and unapologetically and, unknowingly letting her know she can do it, too. That you see the wounds that gauge her soul and do not flinch at the sight of blood. That you see the hurt that shines in her eyes and do not pity the tortured girl, but embrace the wrath of the killer that torture had birthed.

Being understood was once something she ached for. But now that someone is starting to understand her, to see through the defenses she constructed, she is afraid. She is terrified of being seen, of being known.

Almost as much as she fears being alone.

She is facing that fear day by day, and it is just as fucking scary as she anticipated.

She was cripplingly alone, and she felt the aftershocks of it belting through her. She's a lost, untethered soul, searching for its other end, though the thread had severed and all that remained was remnants of fragmented, disjointed memories, and rippling regrets that would never be ironed out.

She has nothing to return to; no home, no person. Instead, she keeps coming back to that hollowness inside, where the grief is stored, and fed to the flames of rage that blaze there. It is the only consistency she knows now. Even you are not a promised thing. Not when you had a brother somewhere out there waiting for you.

And not when she had a list of lives to end.

You are not enough to mend the gaping hole inside of her; you will never match the shape of that gauge. No one will. No one can replace the things he taught her, gave her.

But at least now... when she lays her head to rest, there's a beaming voice, illuminating the shadow-shrouded void of her mind. Beckoning her toward the light.

And it's yours.

She fights the darkness. Wrestles out of its restraints— the guilt and sorrow that anchors her down— and runs to that voice, desperate for the sun.

But the darkness always seems to win in the end.

"Ellie?"

Your soft, tentative voice lulls her out of her clouded thoughts, and she averts her gaze from the fire to look at you. She blinks the dark specks away and discerns your earnest face. Your attention is honed in on her now, the book dog-eared and closed in your lap, head tilted inquisitively. "Where'd you go?" You ask quietly, your voice a whisper under the crackling embers.

She feels her head shaking before she even forms a response. "Nothing. Nowhere," she insists, blinking rapidly, stroking a spectral scar on her forehead. "I'm just tired. How's your book?" She urges casually, craning her head back and resting it on the tree stump of the sprawling oak behind her, studying you.

A big, unadulterated grin contorts your face. Your cheeks dimple, smiling teeth luminous in the firelight. Her heart skips a beat at the mirth glimmering in your eyes. "So good. It's my favorite. I've read it six times," you chuckle at the look of disbelief that slips through the cracks of her facade and continue, "My mom used to read it to my brother and I a lot when we were kids."

She nods, plucking the grime out of her fingernails, swiping her tongue over her teeth. She glances down at her hand to conceal the warmth rising to her cheeks at the sight of your infectious smile. There is no other way to describe it; it is debilitating, impossible not to mirror.

"What's it about?" She murmurs, ducking her head, her emerging smile evident in her tone. She hopes the shadows eclipse her face from your view.

"Oh, it's just a collection of fables," you sigh contently, wistfully, reclining back, clutching the fraying book endearingly to your chest. You sway your knees back and forth, feet planted to the ground, peering up at the star-speckled sky before tilting your head to face her. "Do you like to read at all?"

Ellie yawns gingerly, extending her legs out in front of her, staring down at her muddy, threadbare Converse. "I used to read comics. There was this series I collected... Savage Starlight?" She winces as she pronounces the humiliating name.

Your responding gasp is so sudden, an animal audibly skitters through the weeds. You lurch up in astonishment, wisps of staticky hair fanning around your shocked face. "Wait, really? My brother loved those!"

Ellie laughs, and you visibly loosen at the sound. She pretends not to notice. Just as she pretends not to feel the warmth budding and blooming in her chest, a sprout of something gentle taking root in her heart.

"Yes," she huffs out, rewarding you a vague smile. You were the only thing that made her feel like she could smile anymore. "I read them all. Probably more than 6 times, actually. So. I got you beat."

"Pfft," you bat a hand of dismissal, rolling your eyes playfully, laying back down— resting your head on a smooth, upturned rock, leisurely prying your book back open. "Does looking at pictures even count as reading?"

"Comics have words!" Ellie protests defensively, straightening.

Your boisterous laugh echoes through the dense forestry, booming out of you, as you drop the book and cradle your stomach, rolling over with the force of your guttural laughter. "You are so easy to rile up!" You cackle tearily, wiping your eyes.

Ellie snickers. "You're an ass," she chides, laughter bubbling in her chest, threatening to escape her sealed lips. She threads her fingers through her unruly hair, sweeping the russet strands out of her face. You jeeringly stick your tongue out at her, and she flips you off, earning her another one of your exuberant laughs.

"Read your book," she scolds with a raspy chuckle of her own, pointing at the now discarded fables. She rummages through her backpack, the sound of your stifled giggling following her as she fishes out her journal.

She waits a couple minutes, until you're helplessly engrossed with your novel, your brows once again pinched in concentration, before thumbing through her journal, flipping to that tarnished, browning page. Her eyes flicker over the names she memorized distastefully, that familiar anger burning bright.

Abby

Nora

Owen

Mel

Jordan

Manny

Whitney

She absently ghosts her fingers over that taunting, four-lettered name. Abby. Her throat swells with grief, searing-hot anger boiling in her stomach. The condemning red marks slashing through the names of those she already killed grant her only momentary satisfaction. It's not enough to quell the hatred the unmarked name at the top sparks within.

Nora she killed weeks ago. She let the spores smother her lungs, debilitate her of breath, ring her dry of any vitality and will to resist her tragic fate. Then she took a pipe to her head. Over and over. Just as Abby had done to Joel. Just as she would do to her.

Then she killed Nick, and Jordan, after the Wolves tailed and captured her. They beat and chained her to a counter, as if a pair of copper-rusted handcuffs would restrain her— would save them from her blinding wrath. The scar she brandished him with was rigid and pink and poorly stitched, dismantling his otherwise smooth cheek. She told him that stopping her from extracting her revenge would be futile.

Then she broke free and stabbed him persistently, with ferocious, vehement arches of her arm, until his blood had coated her face in fine beadlets and puddled in heaps that sapped her feet to the floor.

And, most recently, she killed Whitney. At the hospital, where she took you to bed and tasted every glorious inch of you, high with adrenaline, pulsating with want.

She told you she took out a few infected.

But it was only Whitney there, alone, guarding the sewage system, swaying to the boisterous music that reverberated through the concrete-walled boiler room. She slit her throat and kicked her into the murky, sludgy water. Then shot her twice just to insure that she did not inexplicably survive.

After the night you shared, a part of her was horrified of you unveiling the deplorable, merciless acts she committed. She did not know if she could face you. She slaughtered a person in cold blood and touched you with the stained hands that did it.

She left, just in case you found that bleeding body floating in the basement, and turned terrified, accusatory eyes on her. She did not know if she could bear your disdain. Or worse— you being disgusted by the harrowing life she has dedicated herself to.

Because she could not change.

She has a purpose, now.

To take everything from those fuckers. Leave them with nothing as they did her.

She's going to take and take and take. The life of Abby's friends, crushed and squandered beneath her foot. The solid foundation of security they built, ripped apart at the seams, until walls topple and plans expire— until all the Wolves are scurrying through the wastelands, tails tucked, howling for mercy.

She abandoned the safe, armed walls of Jackson for this mission. Nothing could jeopardize it; not even her captivation with you.

Fortunately, you never found Whitney's body.

She should've been relieved. But when she stumbled upon you again, in that blossoming valley, there was spite there, and for a completely different reason. One she never considered; that you were truly scathed by her abandonment. She thought you would be better off without her; better rid of the sucking parasite leeching the good out of you with each moment she spent in your presence.

"Hey, Ellie?"

She snaps the journal closed briskly, sucking in a sharp breath. She thought you had fallen asleep; you had not shifted or spoken for an impressive duration of time. Especially for you.

"Yeah," she responds groggily, scratching her head, slipping the journal back into her bag, the list temporarily forgotten. She glances up to find you gone.

She staggers straight to her feet, calling your name, her tone dripping with apprehension. "Where are you?"

"Shh," you instruct quaintly from the shadows, whispering meticulously, "Over here."

She peers through the darkness encompassing the camp you'd assembled together, trailing your voice, conveyed through the cloying, nectary wind. The warming spring breeze fetters her hair.

She deciphers your figure in the tall, swaying canary, your stature hunched and diligent. "Come here," you whisper urgently, loudly, beckoning her over fervently. She reaches for her gun but freezes when you make a noise of disapproval.

Instead, she follows your voice, curiosity and concern weighing the scale in equal measure. "What is it?" She rasps quietly, cresting your side. Your eyes are trained intently on a small, shapeless shadow, lithely prowling the weeds.

"Come here, kitty," you drawl sweetly, clucking your tongue, drumming your thigh. The small creature pauses its strides, slowly lowering itself to the ground, giving an impassive lick of its paws.

"It's a cat," you mutter to Ellie, as if she had not already gathered that.

She refrains from rolling her eyes. "I can see that. Why were you even over here to begin with?"

You pointedly disregard her, taking a heedful step forward, crouching to be level with your new feline friend. "Come here, sweet thing. Come on. It's okay," you lull in a reassuring tone, patting the ground insistently. The cat only stares at you.

You sigh, arms draped defeatedly over your knees, frowning. "Okay. Never mind. Go back, please, I think you're scaring it."

"What?" Ellie snaps, and the cat startles, bracing it's paws in the dirt, back arched. "No way. Animals love me."

"Kay, well, it was coming to me before you came over here, stepping on every single branch you could find." You argue flippantly, shooting her a glare.

"It's your fault, you're the one who called me over here, dick!" Ellie defends airily, waving her hands.

You clap a hand over your mouth to conceal your automatic chuckle. Your rumbling shoulders and escaping snorts give you away. "Okay, okay, fine," you chortle breathily, shaking your head. "God, that look on your face never gets old."

She groans out a husky laugh, falling back a few paces, propping a mocking, insulted hand over her heart. "You are evil."

You flash her a sinister, lippy smile, mischief twinkling in your eyes, before averting your focus back to the cat, who had inched closer while you argued.

"Yes, that's it. Come here, baby," you click your tongue in a series of encouraging noises, and the cat— ears perked, nose sniveling— prances over to you, as if you waved a heaping bag of treats.

You tenderly, dubiously scoop the cat into your arms. Though acutely tense, it allows you to hold it, claws hesitantly retracting from your sleeve, piercing green eyes slitted and alert. "She's hurt," you inform, scratching it's matted, furry back. You slowly ascend to your feet and nod back toward the camp, following Ellie as she begins to trudge back. "I saw her limp by and followed her over here. Do you have some more gauze?"

"For the cat?" Ellie drawls incredulously, shooting you a look over her shoulder, stepping over a cluster of unearthed roots.

"Uh, yes? She's small, it won't take much." You assert, hiking the cat up as it starts to thrash and mewl anxiously. "Please?"

She wanted to tell you no, but she found that it was impossible to form the word— especially when you were gazing at her with sheer hope, head tilted pleadingly. "Fine."

"Woohoo!" You exclaim triumphantly to the cat, softly stroking between its luminous eyes with your thumb, easing its trepidation. It whimpers, pink nose prodding your jaw, pawing at the latticed hem of your tank top. "She said thanks, El-Bell!"

"How do you know it's a she?" Ellie asks as you enter the fire-illuminated clearing, the light casting ominous, flickering shadows over the deep, towering pine trees.

You shrug, hoisting the cat by its underarms, promptly spinning it around and baring its tattered, grimy belly to Ellie. "Yeah. You were right. Girl." She concedes with a grimace.

Ellie resumes her original position as you perch cross-legged across from her, planting the knotted cat in your lap. She's coated in a sweep of sleek, midnight black fur, so sumptuous it reflects the moon's sapphire glow. Her green eyes are unnaturally bright against her dark coat, penetrating through Ellie as she unpacks her gauze.

"I'm getting it," she mumbles to it warily, and it pivots away from her with unnecessary drama, curling it's tail.

"Don't be rude," you reprimand the cat, who ignores your scolding and persistently licks her splintered paw.

"Here you go," Ellie says, tossing you the gauze and medical tape. "You better hope your little friend doesn't get hurt again. I don't have enough supplies to fix her boo-boos."

She swears the cat fucking glares at her, before curiously, reluctantly sniffing at the gauze.

You must have seen it, too, for you giggle smugly. "What was that about animals loving you?"

"Shut up," Ellie grumbles, leaning back, hiking her knees to her chest. Exhaustion weighs heavy on her eyelids. She surveys you, bleary-eyed, as you scoop the cat into your arms and gingerly pry the wound, a pained shriek tearing from it's tiny body.

"Shh, it's okay," you comfort genially, petting her back as you fumble with the gauze, lightly encasing her wounded paw. "See? Almost done, already."

The cat relaxes in your gentle grasp, allowing you to seal the bandage around her paw. Ellie herself is nearly lulled to sleep by the pacification in your tone— the soft, honeyed melody of consolation rolling off your tongue.

"All done," you state quietly, pressing a forbearing kiss to her nicked ear, delicately peeling her out of your lap and placing her on the ground. "Be free, little one."

The cat lingers, staring at you nearly contemplatively. She blinks slowly, languidly, before swiveling away and skittering through the craning grass, disappearing through the trees.

You watch her go with a bleak, placid smile, the wind whipping your hair. Then you turn to Ellie. "You sleep, I'll keep watch."

She opens her mouth to refute, but you slice her a cutting, silencing look. "You're actively falling asleep as we speak. I'm good. You rest. I want to read some more, anyway," you insist blithely, dusting off your pants and walking back to your previous spot.

Ellie merely mumbles a response, her head already drooping. She falls into a brisk, fitful slumber, so tenuous that the snap of a twig could send her lurching. For once, she does not dream. Visions of terror did not cleave her conscious or beat her breathless. She saw only the flicker of light through her eyelids, and the quiet fragility of her own mind.

Until a faint meow has her bursting out of her slouch, eyes darting frantically around the clearing.

The black cat has her uninjured paw primly resting on Ellie's thigh, peering up at her expectantly with eery, incandescent eyes. Upon her attention, she nimbly removes her paw and demandingly rubs her head against her leg instead, another tinny meow ringing out of her.

"She's back. And I think she wants to lay with you," you explain humorously over the pages of your book— now nearly finished.

"Oh?" She replies in bewilderment, as the cat spins and pads her feet a couple of times before nestling into her side, resting her head on her dark paws.

"Can I come lay with you?" You murmur sleepily, casting fleeting, cautious looks at her as you stow your book away. As if already bracing for the sting of her rejection.

Ellie's heart throbs perniciously in her throat; she swallows in trepidation, sweat gathering on her palms. "Yeah. Yeah, of course," she forces out, wiping them on her jeans, straightening. Even after viewing your body after dark and eating your pussy, you make her nervous as fuck.

Even more so now that she knows how good you taste. And how perfect you are. Now she's burdened the knowledge that she cradles something precious in her hands, and she could unintentionally destroy it.

"I added some wood to the fire," you announce wearily, words punctuated by tiny, bursting yawns, as you adjust your oversized corduroy jacket around your shoulders and clamber over to her, a sheepish smile transforming your fatigue-dulled face.

"Come here," Ellie finds herself muttering, mimicking your exhaustion, spreading her legs and gesturing to the grass-cushioned ground beneath her. The cat still pressed into her, undeterred by her shifting.

You crawl delicately into the space between her legs, smiling through the yawn splitting your face, drawing a yawn out of Ellie, too. "Want me to keep watch again? You need to sleep some more," you say, reclining back against her chest and comfortably situating yourself, humming richly in unsuppressed delight.

Ellie wraps her arms around your shoulders, steering you back into her embrace, resting her chin on your mussed head. The affection should not come so naturally; she should not instinctively reach for you. It's not good.

Not fucking good at all.

"No," she whispers navally into your ear, eyeing the blazing fire through the tendrils of your unbound hair, that gleam with the dwindling light. "You sleep. You didn't sleep at all last night."

You tense fragmentarily in her grasp, muscles tightening under her arms. You hesitate, before craning your head back to face her, eyes searching. "You didn't either..." you whisper heedfully, lifting a hand and resting it on her forearm, stroking soothingly.

She had suspected you heard her cries last night. Instead of the confirmation making her feel ashamed, she felt... free. You saw the depths of her despair turn inside out and you did not cower at the hideous, wretched pain she unleashed.

"I never do," she replies baldly, swaying you gently, mouth hovering near the crest of your ear. Your thumbs tenderly caress the scars garnishing her arm, your eyes fluttering blissfully, your body sinking into her warmth. "Just sleep."

The lack of resistance proves just how desperately you needed it. You are whisked into a precipitated, fragile sleep, your breathing light and measured, your frame tucked up and slumped into her chest.

Her mind wanders only briefly to the violence lurking in its dark crevices, as she watches dense tendrils of smoke arise from the tamed fire, whirling and cascading toward the abrasive, glistening night sky, polluting her view of the stars.

She fantasizes of a smoldering house; a massive fire roaring from its pits, erupting in rippling flames that smolder the caving ceiling and dissolve the weak floorboards. She imagines the sear of blistering skin and the melting screams of anguish, of those who had incinerated her heart. She envisions all the relics and archives of her past being licked up by the fire and consumed by the glaring, ravenous heat.

Then she glances down at you, your blank, unconscious face illuminated by the flickering, dim orange glow. Something inside her softens, and she knows, grievously, that she has become malleable and pliant under your molding hands.

She stares at the slumbering, unbothered cat before returning her gaze back to you.

All of her hatred seems an afterthought to what she had right in front of her.

• • •

YOU

Blood pools on the fractured pavement. Firefly laps at it ravenously, her whiskers tinged crimson. "That's disgusting," you scowl disapprovingly, snatching her off the ground. She hisses in protest, clawing aimlessly at your sleeve, eyes crazed with hunger. You tap her bloodied nose reproachfully. "Bad."

She nips at your finger and you relent with a hearty sigh, placing her back on the ground. She skitters behind the rotting carcass of a clicker, it's head blown off in odious, blossoming cordyceps, pulsating dimly in a puddle of venomous blood. It's the first of hundreds.

You lift your head and examine the carnage that laid, revoltingly and obscenely, before your squinting eyes. Dozens upon dozens of butchered infected— cleaved into indistinguishable bits, sputtering blood, gushing decayed organs and crumpled flesh— piled in the lush street.

"What the fuck happened here?" Ellie drawls with a surprising amount of disgust, eyebrows furrowed as she ascended from her crouch, kneading a clump of clotted blood between her fingers.

You gulp down the thick lump of trepidation bulging in your throat, fretfully shaking the tremor out of your hands. "Don't know. It's gnarly, though," you respond, fighting the wobble out of your tone.

Truthfully, you recognize this distinctive gore.

After your parents tore each other to bits, Zander adopted a newfound disdain for infected. Before, he humanized the restless, ungovernable creatures— sympathized with their fucked up fate, to be killed and morphed into a monster.

But after the accident, he hated them. He found impressively disturbing ways to terminate them. Eventually he founded a signature method; to slice them into pieces as your parents had done, unbidden and under the influence of the infections debilitating madness.

This was him. You know, in the deepest caverns of your soul where your joint grief was stored, that this was his doing.

Not to mention the ragged Z carved into the blistered, yellowing flesh of one of the dead runners. You kick it's gnarled, unseemly body over to hide the exhibiting brand from Ellie, curling your lip with rehearsed repulsion. "Gross," you whisper, though internally, relief swarms your nerves, cacooning your apprehension in a warm blanket.

He is alive.

And the mark signifies that he is leaving signs for you to find.

"I'm just mad they beat me to it," Ellie complains under her breath, glowering at the expanse of cadavers cloaking the broken road. She tips your chin up, extracting your lingering gaze from the reeking bodies. "You good?"

You brush her off with a forced, invigorated smile. "Yep!" you chirp, nodding robustly, side-stepping a clicker. "At least we don't have to deal with all of them. Whoever did it, we should thank. Saved us some ammo," you craft your words meticulously as not to unearth your burrowed truth.

Ellie studies you a moment before dropping her hand. "True," she eventually yields, eyes wandering to Firefly, who was attacking a cord of muscle that protruded from the gaping stomach of a dead clicker, gnawing at the tough tissue. "Get your batshit cat. We're losing daylight."

"She's a perfectly normal cat," you retort, though your rebuttal is contradicted by the face you make. You grimace as she swats at a springing cordycep, growling ferociously. "Firefly! Stop that!" You shout, snapping your fingers.

Her ears twitch, head lurching up, green eyes wide. She is deathly still. You snap again, and she darts after Ellie skittishly, following her lead.

You chance another look at the wreckage, toying with the gold wedding band dangling from your throat. It was your mother's. Zander wore your fathers matching one around his neck. You usually kept yours stowed in the pits of your backpack, but you needed that touch of home.

Ellie had lifted your hair and gently latched it around you without questions asked, a hint of understanding in her eyes. You were grateful for her silence in that moment. Usually it unnerved you when she didn't speak. But in that moment it felt like a gift as opposed to a punishment.

"Where are we heading?" You question plainly, tucking the wedding band under your shirt, the memories a wild, unleashed zoo animal, tranquilized and thrown back into its enclosure. The ring is damp with your incessant, sweaty fidgeting.

"There's a place up ahead I like to go. Thought we could rest there for the night," she replies vaguely, glancing furtively at you, then the cat, her lip curling. "I still can't believe you named that thing Firefly."

"It's a cute name," you grumble back, sweeping your sweat-glistening hair off your neck and fanning the hot skin. "You could've come up with something too, you know."

This morning, you had awoken in Ellie's arms, jovial and recharged. For the first time in months, you had an uninterrupted, rejuvenating sleep, one that added a spring to your step and an effortlessness to your trekking. The cat was curled snugly in your lap, her affectionate purrs vibrating against your legs.

Ellie was stiff-necked and ill-tempered for the better half of the day, massaging the tension out of her shoulders and grumbling her responses.

"What should we name her?" You had asked, sprawled on your back, hefting the cat into the air as if she were a wailing baby in desperate need of motion and entertainment.

"Dramatic?" Ellie had quipped dully, and you rolled your eyes skyward.

"What about... oh!" You jerked upright in excitement, still cradling the cat in your arms. "Firefly."

An indecipherable emotion passed over her, tension lining the contours of her face. A hint of contempt glimmered in her eyes, and it felt like she was glaring down her nose at you, judging you like God weigh's pupils of sin, even as she sat at your eye-level. "Don't tell me you believe in that Firefly bullshit, too?"

Her reaction both intrigued and befuddled you. You possessed minimal knowledge on the Fireflies beyond the basics— that they were a reformed militia group that was majorly massacred by a man, who resulted in the death of Abby's father— and that she recruited a few friends to go after said man.

And someone was hunting them down for his murder. You had lost Nora and Jordan to the spiteful hands of his avenger; which is the only bright side to being excluded and shunned from Abby's circle— you were not involved in the man's murder, meaning you will not be involved in whatever vengeance they earned themselves.

Every now and then, back at the base, they get a few former Fireflie's filing in to join the Wolve's. Isaac— the focal overseer and governor of the WLF— was wary of stragglers that claimed past allegiances to the Fireflies, but welcomed them anyway, if they guaranteed to defend the base and protect his established citizens, as you and Zander pledged to do.

"No. Not at all. All of those stupid groups are bullshit," you agreed ardently, shaking your head in aversion, stroking Firefly's tummy. "I meant the actual insect, fireflie's. I just think they are so pretty at night. And I swear I could see the moon reflecting off her. Just seemed fitting."

Ellie had paused the sharpening of her blade. She analyzed you in the dewy, clouded sunlight, combating the interest off her face. But it flashed too late for her to conceal; her eyes lit up. "What other groups do you know about?" She asked carefully.

You shrugged, feigning indifference. "Like the Seraphites," you hummed, finger-combing Firefly's shiny black coat. "And I've seen another group around here. But I think they were just travelers."

Ellie said nothing, resuming her survey of her switchblade. She polished it with a tattered cloth and studied it, and that was that, the subject abandoned.

Now, Ellie snorts, peeling back a looming, overgrown branch to allow you passage. "Nah. That's your cat." She says as you saunter by, even as the cat pads after her, nose tipped to the air, breathing in the sent of damp soil, heady rot and the faint, sweet traces of a budding spring.

You trudge along the rocky, uneven path, bricks and shattered molasses-brown beer bottles specking the dirt, holding hope tight to your chest.

After stumbling upon Zander's mess, all the worry you harbored for your brother had ebbed away. He's alive. You hope the others are, too.

Even if you are not amicable with a large number of his group, a couple of them treated you fairly. Whitney was the closest thing to a friend you had there; she always tracked you down in the mess hall and shared her lunch. She even alternated her watch-shifts with Manny to join you on yours when she could, and shared her access card to the armory to practice shooting with you.

When you had first arrived, you scarcely knew how to use anything beyond a hand-gun. She trained you on a variety of firearms when your free time corresponded; you owe the new capabilities that kept you alive on this expedition to Whitney. She was the only one who never made you feel bad about it. She simply demonstrated for you without comment or judgement.

You hope whoever was sent to retrieve you— if anyone at all— was safe. Though, considering that Isaac didn't even send out a search party for Owen when he went missing, you doubt that he would gamble the life of his prized soldiers just to find a meaningless girl who was bullied and deluded out of his faction.

Clearly it did not stop Zander from looking for you, if the mutilated bodies of those infected were any indication. It could not be a coincidence. You know it was him. You just know it.

A strange part of you just hopes he doesn't find you yet. You have an intuitive, twisting suspicion churning in your gut, that this tenuous thing between you and Ellie will snap if anyone, or anything disrupts it.

You have a feeling that in finding him, you'll lose her. And you don't know what that means. You don't know where you're supposed to go from here; but you know that you can't just let her go.

With that, you saunter up to Ellie and flash her a winning, mindless smile, slithering your hand snugly into her back pocket. She tugs you flush into her side with a finger curled in your belt loop, and you stumble into her with a stunned laugh, Firelfy at your heels. You wish things could stay this easy.

You look at her and find strength beyond what had been forced upon you— a strength to fight for a better future.

• • •

Tangled, warm white Christmas lights dimly illuminate the abandoned teen-girls bedroom. Peeling posters are plastered to the walls, fraying with age and weathered by earth's course battering. A threadbare beanbag chair collected dust in the corner, the once vibrant purple now grimy and muted with time. Cobwebs edge the corners of the room in a luminous sprawl, their thick tendrils sparkling under the light.

You could see why Ellie found comfort in this place.

A black rack of CD's lined the desk, where the residue of ripped and prodded band stickers marred the refined oak. A thick coating of dust blanketed the surface. Your eyes flicker from the impressive album collection to the hot-pink poster board taped haphazardly to the closet with leopard print duct tape. Emboldened words scrawled in bright marker and glitter gel pens jut out in bubbled letters— MAISIE'S SUMMER BUCKET LIST 2003!

You avert your attention back to the desk, and the stack of mussed, tattered sketchbooks. The black covers are stained with charcoal and splotches of solidified paint, pages scattered. You rummage through one idly, thumbing through the doodles that range from gleaming sunrises to descriptive depictions of infected in a variety of stages, flowers blooming from their skulls instead of cordyceps.

You hum, grazing your pinkie over the elaborate drawings. "Have you seen these? They're..." you trail off in bewilderment when you glance up at what had captured Ellie's attention.

The dead body of a fallen solider.

Ripped camo dangled in tattered strips from the skeletal frame slumped against the unhinged door. It's jaw was missing, baring decaying teeth. Flies rattled in its hollow skull and buzzed busily about its frame. Ellie crouches and examines the chain enveloping it's neck. "They were a firefly," she informs you bleakly from over her shoulder, smoothing a thumb over the raised design etched into the pendant.

She rips it off it's neck sharply, and an involuntary screech bursts out of you when the head rolls off the body with a sickening crunch, thudding to the floor, sending up a cloud of dust. Ellie watched it fall with disinterest, holding the necklace up to you. "We should put it on your cat," she says, glaring pointedly at Firefly, who nestled herself into the bean bag and chewed on something dead she scoured, tail waving lethargically.

"Go ahead. I'd wait until she's done eating, though, or else she might maul you."

She releases a long-suffering sigh but ascends from her crouch, jingling the pendant tauntingly in your face, eyebrows raised. You laugh as she pursues Firefly with rightful caution. Her deliberate movements do not stop the cat from freezing and glowering at her, dark fur elevating.

"It's okay," Ellie drawls with no conviction. "Relax, dude."

Firefly makes to dart away, but Ellie swiftly wrestles her into her arms, holding her firm, as she hisses and screams in protest, squirming. "Come here, little devil," she grunts out harshly, sloppily clipping the pendant around her neck. Firefly swats violently, nicking her with a razor-sharp claw.

Ellie relinquishes her grip and Firefly wastes no time scrambling away, scurrying under the half-dilapidated bed. Her brilliant green eyes flare with menace from the shadows, narrowed at her.

"The shit I do for you," Ellie clicks her tongue and brandishes the furious scratch that superficially sliced her arm.

You ignore the jest. "Should we get rid of... of..." you stutter, gesturing at the body apprehensively, shifting from foot to foot. "That?"

Ellie nods, and you follow her to where it's rotting. She carelessly scoops up the skull and chucks it out of the gaping hole in the wall, before bracing her hands on the remnants of its body, leveling you with a look. You scramble to aid her, mustering a confirming nod back.

With joint effort, you shove it over the edge of the building. You peer over the jutted lip of the bedroom; numerous stories stretched between you and the pavement. Mist gathers in a dense, ominous cloud, shielding your view of the ground below. The bones clatter and deconstruct until they're engulfed by the haze. You were so far up, you couldn't hear them break against the earth.

You glance at Ellie to find her already observing you.

"What?"

She simply shrugs and rises, dusting the loitering essence of death off her hands, changing the topic with a fluidity that came with her consistent avoidance. "We can either try to fix that bed or sleep on the floor. Take your pick."

"I don't think Firefly would appreciate it if we took away her hiding spot," you quip, and it was settled.

The day was not yet done, but you set up camp regardless. Both of you maneuver in a pleasant silence as you unbundle your sleeping bags and roll them over the stained, carpeted floor. Ellie positions hers a whopping ten feet away from yours, the distance nearly offensive. "What are you doing?" You ask in disbelief, pausing your bed-making to gawk at her, open-mouthed.

"What?" She snaps in alarm, glancing around, looking for tangible evidence of her misdeed.

You point at her bed roll incredulously. "Why are you so far from me?"

She tenses and flicks her gaze away, her bag sliding off her shoulder and to the floor with a hefty thud. "I didn't want to assume you'd want to sleep by me."

You blink fervently. "Ellie."

She watches uncertainly as you punctuate her name and drag her sleeping bag next to yours, until they're close to overlapping. "You literally had your tongue inside of me. Stop being weird all of a sudden."

She visibly reddens, a vicious blush blotching her cheeks. You open your mouth to continue, adrenaline coursing through your veins, when she charges at you and cups a silencing hand over your mouth, a pained smirk tugging at her lips. "Just stop!" She hisses, her lips a wobbling line as she resists a grin of her own.

You chuckle and stumble back, licking her palm. She blanches and releases you, wiping her spit-damp hand on her jeans, her sudden movement sending you plummeting to the floor. You drag her down with you, your breathy laughs mingling as you collapse in a tangle of limbs onto the sea of slippery blankets.

You both burst into another fit of laughter when Firefly growls at all the commotion. She pads out into the foyer, swaying her tail with sass.

"Do you ever shut up?" Ellie mutters lowly, laughter clinging onto every lulled syllable, as she props herself on an elbow and gazes down at you, running a finger over your bottom lip.

You smile, and she traces the shape of it.

"Do you want me to?" You whisper humorously, and her thumb joins her finger in its exploration of the curves of your face, stroking your cheek with an unlikely tenderness that had the power to undo you.

"Never," she mumbles back, applying a chaste, shapeless kiss to the corner of your mouth. It's not enough. She deigns to pull away but you sling an arm over the back of her neck and hold her in place, lips seeking hers with repressed fervor.

She groans into your mouth, the decadent sound rumbling through you, alighting a glimmering need within. You increase the speed and intensity of the kiss— her noises an invitation for more— and propel yourself up with a hand plastered unsteadily to the floor, combing your fingers through her hair with the other.

Her hand rests on your throat, the pressure existent but not imposing, as she guides you into a languorous dance with your tongues. You buck your hips up to sate the craving for pressure and she slips a hand down to your waist, guiding you up and into her.

"I want you for real this time," she blurts breathlessly, words blasting into your tingling, swollen lips. Her eyes are teeming with earnest, pupils so dilated with lechery, they reflect you, doe-eyed and wanting. "No interruptions. I don't fucking care what it is... I'm not going to stop." She utters the words with quivering determination, fumbling with the button of your jeans.

You desperately nod your assent, arching up to assist her in removing your jeans. She brushes fluttery kisses to your exposed midriff where your tank top had ridden up, hurriedly tugging your jeans down, until they pooled at your ankles. She shucks them over your cowboy boots and hurls them to the side.

Your heart hammers with anticipation, core throbbing at the sight of her absolutely unraveled with yearning. Ever since that night in the hospital, you've wanted more. Needed more. You were just as fucked up by your need for her. It consumed you, ate you from the inside out, until all that was left was a thirst that could not be quenched without her hands on you.

"Fuck me, Ellie," you demand hoarsely, winding your hands up her thighs and shakily unbuttoning her jeans as she looms over you. She arches back and unabashedly shreds off her shirt as you hike down her jeans, unveiling small, supple breasts and hard, tantalizing nipples.

You kiss up her pelvis, across her toned, bruised abdomen and to her sternum, licking a slow stripe over one of her nipples and swirling it on your way up, eyes trained on hers lasciviously. You nip and suckle at a spot on her neck and she cranes her head back, hiccuping a sharp cry. She pants and lulls her head as you kiss and nibble the bared column of her throat, her hands roaming up the front of your body, palming your tits through your shirt.

She lifts herself off of you momentarily to kick off her jeans over her Converse, discarding them quickly, before she's back on top of you.

She's framed by the dying daylight penetrating the gaping hole behind her, her eyes flickering over you hungrily. She glides her hands under the hem of your tank top and yanks it over your head, tousling your hair, rejected with all the other articles of scattered clothing.

She pries your legs apart forcefully, and you squeak, as she pulls you closer to her. "How do you want it?" She croons gravelly, voice rich with heady desire, eyes honed in on your face with predatory focus. As if she could take every hint of pleasure you show and have it for herself. She straddles your pelvis and slowly, faintly swipes her pussy over yours, your clit throbbing at the contact. "Like this?"

She cradles your leg in her arm and drags her pussy across yours again, this time with more force. You bite your lip to suppress a whimper at the delicious sensation. "Or do you want me to really fuck you?" She thrusts against you hard for emphasis and you choke back a stunned moan, jerking.

"Yes," you breathe carnally, hair fanning around your head, mouth agape— all subtly gone with the wind that billowed through the room and cooled your slick skin.

"Yes, what? Use your words," she demands, hand encasing your throat, rocking into you with that same jarring force, another moan escaping you.

"Fuck me," you pant, nearly drooling, the husk of her words a fuel to the kindling that was her pussy moving against yours, "Please just fuck me. I need you, Ellie."

She smirks haughtily, wicked satisfaction gleaming in her blue eyes. "That's my girl," she praises knowingly, leaning down until her mouth brushes your panties. She sinks her teeth into them and tears them straight off your body, her hand never abandoning its anchoring hold on your throat. The movement was so effortless you could feel yourself dripping, the duality of this woman stupefying you.

How she could go from awkward at your flirting, to claiming your body as if it were a land she possessed and ruled in the matter of minutes.

You whimper unintelligible nonsense, unable to form coherent words to convey your debilitating need. Wanting her feels as natural and essential as breathing. Explaining it is nowhere near as simple.

She removes herself from you just to slide her own panties off, repositioning herself between your legs, holding your leg to her chest. She offers no warning before she grinds her bare, wet pussy into yours, the skin on skin making tingles of pleasure erupt through your core.

It was nearly too much.

You emit a shuddering moan and arch your back as she returns her calloused hand to your throat and slams into you, rolling her hips, your clits rubbing and chafing. "That's it. Fuck," she hisses out, her tattooed arm stark against your thigh as she hoists it to her, using it to drive into you with fierce precision, your pussy's slapping together stickily.

"Oh my fucking god," you mewl dumbly, tits bouncing, as she angles her hips and relentlessly drives her pelvis into yours, her breaths clipped and high-pitched. You undulate your hips and grind up into her, meeting the ferocity of her thrusts, your juices coinciding and glistening on your thighs. "Ellie."

"Fuck, yeah," she pants blissfully, peering down at you. "You feel so good."

She leans over you, slapping a hand next to your head, folding your leg up to your chest, the position allowing for better movement. She grinds into you from the new angle, your clits gliding and throbbing, and you feel yourself ascending higher and higher, toward that peak you nearly met the other night, at the hospital.

She fucks you nearly senseless, your frame wracking with her thrusts. She burrows her face into the crook of your neck, hot breath ghosting your skin, tiny grunts departing her lips. She grazes her teeth over the flesh and you shudder, her hand that was planted to the floor snaking up and finding yours, interlocking your fingers.

"I'm gonna cum," you whimper into her mussed hair, writhing beneath her, choppily grinding up, your muscles tight. You use the hand that's not intertwined with hers to fist her hair and reer her head back, until your faces are level, gazes locked. Both of you are heavy-lidded and pupil-blown, her eyes brimming with that same pleasure that was mounting in you.

"Cum with me," she orders breathily, your noses compressing, and on demand your body convulses and a blinding white light shreds through your vision, an uncontrolled moan belting out of you as she continues to fuck you through your orgasm.

"Fuck," she groans without restraint as your pussy's squelch, a cry leaving her as she reaches her own peak, her eyebrows furrowed, a dimple surfacing between her brow. She breathes into your open mouth, and you claim it as your own, granting her fleeting kisses through the aftermath.

Not a single thought filters through your head. Nothing beyond her drenched pussy, resting dormant upon your slick thigh, and her lips eloping with yours. You don't even know where to begin when it comes to processing the unprecedented feeling that roared throughout your body, or the swelling off your heart.

Neither of you say a word, your harsh, heavy breathing mingled and protruding the silence. Ellie peels herself off of you, her legs shaking as she thuds to the sleeping bag adjacent to you, her damp forehead pressed into your bare shoulder. She peppers a few kisses over it before falling back, expelling a deep, contented sigh.

You angle your head to face her, a dazed grin splitting your face. "What. The. Fuck. You've been holding out on me," you muse dreamily, playfully swatting at her.

She snickers huskily, scratching her head, propping it on an elbow. Her bare chest glistens and heaves with her labored breaths, as she reaches under the broken bed and slips out a shoebox. She dumps the contents out on her abdomen— a packet of finely minced weed, rolling sheets, a mini box of matches and one pre-rolled joint. "You smoke?"

"I have. Don't do it much though," you admit with a sheepish chuckle, watching her. She licks the length of the joint to insure its sealed before slipping it between her lips and lighting a match, bringing it to the tip. She waves out the tiny flame once smoke billows from the end, taking a measured, steady drawl.

She closes her eyes briefly at the sensation before passing it to you. Her lips quirk as you survey it dubiously before holding it hesitantly to your mouth, sucking in. Her smirk morphs into a resounding laugh when you sputter out a choppy haze of smoke, a profound burn blistering your lungs.

"That shits gross," you cough gutturally, passing it back, batting the swirling smoke out of the air. "You keep that stuff here?"

"No," she responds, smirking, inhaling another graceful heap of smoke. Exhaling slowly. You watch her watch the tendrils churn through the otherwise still air. "It was here when I found this place. Whoever lived here before was stashing it," she glances to the summer bucket list, "Maisie was a stone-er." She chides, flicking the ashes off and taking another hit.

She is noticeably put at ease. Her muscles are relaxed, and her smiles form innately and without dictation. As if all her worries have been laid to rest, now that she got to feel you.

It had the opposite affect on you.

The dark, possessive thoughts that have been circulating your mind like vultures preying on rotting roadkill did not flea at the taste of her.

All it did was amplify your morbid longing.

You snuggle into her embrace and rest your head against her drumming sternum, entangling your sweat-glowing legs together, fusing your bodies. She holds the joint to your lips and you take a drag, careful not to invoke another coughing fit, and she takes one after you, blowing precise, opaque O's with the smoke. She gently runs her fingertips up and down the length of your arm, clutching you to her.

"Can we do it again?" You blurt, angling your head up to face her, and she pauses her stroking. She says nothing as her hand winds down your arm, coasts over your hip, and creeps between your legs.

You suck in a breath when two fingers collect the wetness pooling at your entrance and drag your slick to your clit, rubbing delicately, the feather-light application of pressure evoking a whimper out of you. You squirm and rock into her hand, and she chuckles on a weed-laced breath, "Mm. You want me to fuck you again?"

You nod frantically as she works your pussy with her fingers. She sits up suddenly, taking you with her, until your spread in her lap. She holds the joint between her lips as she uses one hand to palm your breast and the other to expertly thumb your clit, smoke coiling from her nostrils. "Needy fucking girl," her approving groan is muffled by the joint, as she inches her fingers down your wet folds, teasing your entrance. "You want my fingers again?"

"Please," you whine, as reeking smoke tickles your earlobe and wafts into your face, the hand that wasn't easing fingers into your cunt slithering down to keep one of your legs spread, curling around your thigh, kneading and caressing, the joint between her massaging fingers.

You reach back to feather your fingers through her hair, riding her hand, breathy gasps escaping your lips. "Mhm. Good girl," she praises gravelly into your ear, curling her digits inside of you, stroking that sweet spot.

You tug helplessly on her hair and crash your head back onto her shoulder, arching desperately as she makes you cum for the second time, this time drenching her rough fingers.

She doesn't stop there. She maneuvers you out of her lap and sprawls you onto the bed roll, your legs spread, pussy gleaming and sated before her devouring eyes. She braces your thighs in her arms, takes a hit, and exhales onto your clenching pussy, the faint gust stimulating your throbbing clit. You moan and attempt to inch away, but she pins you down and eats you stupid, until her chin is dribbling with your juices, her sardonic smile highlighted by the cum glistening on her lips.

After she was done, she unburried herself from your legs and licked the juices off her lips, eyeing you sensually. She acted as if she were about to go right back down, when Firefly began scratching at the door insistently, meowing manically. Both of you redressed, hefting your tops and underwear back on.

You let the cat in and enveloped yourself in the near-translucent, cotton sheets, observing her as she tiptoes in, sniffing the air. She follows the scent to the crumpled joint on the floor, nosing it curiously. Ellie clicks her tongue in reprimand and tosses it over the side of the building before she tries to eat it. The last thing you needed was a high cat.

After discarding the joint, Ellie plops down on the hazardous edge, swinging her legs. She looks at you from over her bruised shoulder. "Come on," she urges, patting the space next to her.

You oblige, the sheet trailing you as you wander over to her. She takes your hand as you gingerly lower yourself beside her, effortfully prying your gaze from the dizzying height.

The mist had cleared with the days dissipating humidity, revealing the enchanting sweep of ocean that spread before you, dark waves emphasizing the curve of the earth. The sun gleams amber like a glass of whiskey caught in the light, painting the clouds a mass of colors, descending toward the seam of sky and sea.

You avert your attention back to Ellie. Her eyes are sealed, brown lashes fluttering with the breeze, tawny hair cascading with the salt-tinged wind. Her freckles are emphasized by the golden, showering glow, gilding her features. You sit on your hands to keep yourself from tracing them.

Firefly inches over, perching next to you, her green eyes mirroring the setting sun. You close your eyes and drop your head onto Ellie's shoulder, wrapping the sheet around her.

There's a prolonged beat.

And then she tilts her head and rests it on yours, hand gripping your thigh proprietarily. You don't even hesitate. You slide your hand over hers and stroke the bruises blossoming on her knuckles, smiling to yourself.

taglist: @elliesexual @jottedinklings @a-little-bit-of-everybody … let me know if you want to be tagged for updates

[joshseoh]

Ellie Hair - Seattle Version (Hair Commission)

Ellie's hair from The Last of Us!

For feminine frame

Basegame compatible

24 EA swatches

For teen to elder

Custom thumbnail

Hat compatible

Shadow map

Specular map

Normal map

Disallowed for random

Read my Terms of Use before downloading!

DOWNLOAD HERE

Public release: 12 Dec 23

[cheyisagirlkisser]

•CHEY’S MASTERLIST•

₊˚⊹♡.Chey’s recs here ₊˚⊹♡.About me!

REQUEST RULES

COMING SOON:

•What Friends Do(Vi from Arcane)

•Fading with the Leaves 2/2 (Ellie Williams)

ELLIE WILLIAMS

Headcannons

•Farmer Williams(Smut) •Jackson Ellie(Smut) •Ellie and Abby Sugar Mommy HCS(Smut and some fluff) •Jackson Ellie(Fluff) •Kisses with Ellie •Princess Treatment(smut) •Gamer Ellie(smut) •College Loser Ellie(slight smut)

Short things

•Heartbeats(Fluff) •Santa Barbara Ellie(Smut) •Dealer Ellie quick blurb(Smut) •Backshots from Ellie(Smut) •Sub Ellie w/ femdom reader(Smut) •Jackson/Farm Ellie fluff •Farm Ellie in the tub(fluff) •Overstimulation w/ Ellie(Smut) •“Only for Coffee”(Angst) •Santa Barbara Ellie eating you out from the back(smut) •Jackson sub Ellie(smut) •Fingering during a movie night(smut) •Sub-top Ellie(smut, but kind of satire) •Ellie and Vi's good girl(smut) •Reader being insecure with her outie(smut, fluff)

One-Shots

•My Kink is Karma(Smut) •Potions n’ Passions(Smut) •Ellie’s Angel prologue(angst/fluff) •“She gets the Job Done!”(Smut/fluff) •Charity Girl(Smut) •Twisted Girls(smut) •Fading with the Leaves(Angst). •Breaking Your Walls(Smut) Jackson Ellie and bestfriend reader (requested, smut)

ABBY ANDERSON

One-Shots

•“My Sugar Mommy”(Smut/Angst)

Headcannons

•Ellie and Abby Sugar Mommy HCS(Smut, some fluff) •Blue collar Abby(smut). •Abby Anderson(just fluff!)

Short things

•Spankings w/ dom Abby(smut) •Failing to dom Abby(smut)

VI (ARCANE)

Short things

•Prison Vi(smut) •Cockwarming Vi(smut) •Pitfighter Vi fucking you with a strap(smut), part two of that •Ellie and Vi's good girl(requested, smut). •Vi being mean to you during sex(requested, smut) •Soft, sweet make-out sesh(sfw)

Headcannons

•Being Vi’s prison wife(smut)

AI BOTS

•Sugar Mommy Abby(Nsfw intro) •Fighter Vi(Suggestive intro) •Seattle Ellie Angst(sfw) •Blue-collar Abby and fem gf(sfw) •Ellie gives you princess treatment(sfw)

[theurgists]

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ THE WAY WE USED TO ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: after ending things on a sour note with ellie before seattle, the both of you haven't spoken since her return, and a less-than-unexpected relationship with dina . she manages to slip away once again, this time leaving you with nothing but the memory of her. third time's a charm, right?

warnings: post-santa barbara, angst, talk of trauma, the usual deep dives when it comes to tlou2, not proof-read

a/n: kinda missed writing for ellie lowkey, my baby deserves the entire world and much more. another part is for sure in the works, maybe even two?? also my asks are open ;) i'd be very grateful if you guys would send some stuff! enjoy around 5k words of angst <3

There was once a time when the feeling of contentedness devoured you whole — swallowing you pleasantly. Its teeth were sharp, jaw wide — unhinged as it grabbed you with flexing, greedy fingers, tossing you into the warmness of vulnerability. Once you were in, the euphoric feeling would start at the tips of your toes, expanding throughout your body slowly.

You could remember how it would scratch a particular itch in your brain, soothing every worry lingering in your dreary mind's dark corners. In truth, it was a way to escape the endless violence, to relieve the throbbing pressure that had your heart aching within the confines of your chest, behind brittle human bones that were supposed to protect you from harm — but it did nothing to stop her from leaving. You had etched it into the stubborn tissue that took refuge within your skull even if you went down on your hands and knees, she just didn’t find it in her heart to be with you.

Those walls you had spent your entire existence fortifying with your blood, sweat, and tears had all been for nothing. Absolutely nothing.

 You had foolishly taken the monster of aliveness for granted, and he had taken his sweet time crushing you, breaking your fragile bones within seconds.

He had won. 

With the unforeseen defeat, you found yourself wanting to expel her from your mind. Her musky, wood-burned scent, the crinkle of her nose, the light rose blush that would decorate the apples of her cheeks, and the wringing of her hands when faced with uncomfortable situations. 

Those little things were what you’d remember; nights when the rare sight of dewed grass would tickle your nose hairs. Jeans damp from the small droplets of rain resting atop blades of deep green seas, wet hands snaking through soggy soil to entwine with hers in secrecy. Those were moments when love had made itself known within you, albeit a foreign feeling you embraced with mass hesitance. 

Foolish girl — you were merely a child. A child who selfishly put herself aside to care for another when she could barely care for herself. 

You see, that was the issue with you. You never knew when enough was enough.

Maybe that’s why she had given little to no thought about ever uttering a single word to you in almost three years.

With your jaw clenched, you ground your teeth together, tightening your grip on the pen as you pressed down on the tattered, yellowing piece of paper with arising anger. You were struggling. 

Your lack of presence in the outside world and limited interaction with others could attest to that. It wasn’t as if it was your intention. Human interaction seemed to drain you lately, and so you found yourself hunched over the wooden pine desk located near a window to the right of your bedroom, a withering chair accompanying the depressing set-up. Glancing upward, you rapidly blinked, lashes fluttering against the deep bags under your eyes as you reached your hand toward your face. 

There was a dull throb behind your lids as you rubbed your palms against them, ridding your eyes of any trace of lingering tiredness as you opened them soon after, pupils adjusting to the rays of clouded sunlight bleeding through the thin material of the curtains.

With a deep sigh, you curled your fingers around the leather cover of your journal, the digits on your other hand snatching the nearly broken pen away from its place wedged between smeared ink. Slamming it shut, you slid it aside, biting the inside of your cheek as a means to snap yourself out of the deep hole taking refuge in the foreground of your mind. 

It was an endless abyss of numbness, laying awake at night with the sheets tucked around your waist, eyes focused on the darkness of the ceiling as you tried to suppress the sudden blur that tried to overtake your vision. There was a certain sadness lingering within you, and it spread as if it were sugar water injected into your veins.

Scratching the back of your right ear, you lifted yourself from your hunched position, back aching from the time spent madly scribbling your scattered thoughts onto an ancient sheet of paper.

You’d have to stop obsessing over it eventually. This wasn’t a healthy way of thinking about things.

Pursing your lips, your bare feet padded against the maple hardwood of the floor, guiding you into the tight kitchen space occupying the small one-story home that you called your own. Shivering at the sudden rush of cold air that seeped through your pores, you pulled on the fridge door, spotting a glass jar half full of milk. Maria had given it to you just three days prior, hoping to coax you out of the house and over to the Tipsy Bison for a drink.

You had adamantly refused, telling her that you knew those weren’t her exact intentions with you, and by the look that she threw in your direction from the doorway, you were right.

She was a gentle-hearted woman with a tough exterior and a shielded heart. And although it was something she wouldn’t part her lips to say aloud, you reminded her of herself back when she was navigating through looming death and betrayal peeking behind every corner. It bared its teeth as if it were the predator, and you were the prey; open and unaware. 

Placing your lips against the cool rim, you leaned your head back, gulping the rush of liquid, focusing on the way it glided down your throat and into your stomach, satisfying your thirst and easing a quarter of your heart all in one. 

Darting your eyes around the area, you settled on the scenery through the single window, paying close attention to the individual bright greens of leaves that swayed in the light wind, the sun low on the horizon, a mix of blues and light orange hues painting the sky in watercolors.

Ripping your eyes away from the tempting scenery, you took in a breath of stale air, enveloping yourself in the comfort of the surrounding silence as you frowned deeply to yourself, index finger tracing the rim of the glass. Setting the short cup in the sink, you lifted your head once more, outstretching your arms to grab at the edges of the counter as you leaned forward.

Narrowing your eyes, the rusty gears in your head worked on overdrive to make out the figure walking past your window — shadow visible to you thanks to the angle of the lowering sun. 

Your worrisome face formed even more creases if possible, contorting your face in such a pained way that it felt as if you were stabbed in the side, right between the ribs. Gulping the maturing lump in your throat, you slowly made your way to the chipped wood of the front door, standing a mere four feet from it. 

With three quick knocks sounding from the other side followed by a clearing throat, you nearly deflated at the muffled voice on the other side of the door. It was tired, low, and gruff, struggling. 

“Hey kiddo, I know you’re in there. I saw you from the window.”

Rolling your eyes as far back as they could go, you cocked your head to the side, puffing out your cheeks before blowing out a dramatic breath. The coolness of the metal knob against the clammy heat oozing from your palm soothed you for only a moment as you twisted your wrist — coming face-to-face with the short-haired man. 

His locks were glossy, shining in natural oils, giving him a temporary unappealing look that paired well with the rest of his appearance. Crossing your arms over your chest, you unashamedly lowered your gaze to his disheveled clothing, noticing just how wrinkled his plaid button-up shirt was — the first three undone as if he had looped the rest of them through holes in a rush. 

“You look like shit.” 

Clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth, he balanced most of his weight on his right leg, “Well hello to you, too.”

 Pulling the skin of his lips back, he grimaced from the slight pain that jolted through his left. 

Furrowing your brows in concern, your legs automatically moved to his side, lifting his arm and gently placing it over your shoulder, helping him hobble inside, away from the buzzing flies in the warm, summer air. 

“You need to take it easy, Tommy.” You mumbled, slowly guiding him to the kitchen and plopping him down onto one of the creaky wooden chairs backed up against the scuffed white of the walls. 

Waving one of his calloused hands, he waved you off, muttering something under his breath before he sighed loudly, scanning his one eye around your messy space. “Now don’t get your head all twisted. I ain’t nothing worth worrying about.” 

Frowning, you pulled out the other chair from its place tucked near the small, circular table and slowly eased yourself down, leaning back, crossing one denim-clad leg over the other.

 “Says you. Someone needs to keep an eye on you, old man. Especially now, since you like to perform your little disappearing acts once and a while.” 

You watched as he parted his lips to speak, pressing them thinly right after, scoffing in slight annoyance. “You stalking me or somethin’?” 

The corners of your lips curled, a lop-sided smile sneaking its way to your mouth. “I have better things to do with my time —”

“— Sure don’t look like it.”

“ — Okay, anyways. No, I don’t stalk you. You’re a grown man with grays and a gait. I doubt you can get very far.” 

Cocking his head back in faux hurt, he put a shaking hand over his heart. “You’ve been underestimating my abilities to move despite my age. This conversation is a prime example.”

Rolling your eyes for the second time, you lowered your head, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Did you just come here to insult me, or was there something you needed?”

Any traces of playfulness twinkling in his dead eyes diminished as he sat there, searching through the mess in his brain for the correct words to say to you. Your kindness was something he was less than deserving of, and it was something he was very aware of as he stared at your hunched frame, defeated and small. 

“I - I know anything else I say to you won’t make it easier —” he started, coming to a halt at your startling interruption. 

“ — I don’t need you to start mindlessly talking to me about it.” You spat, glancing up at him through your lashes, head still aimed toward the floor, eyes following the patterns of the grimy tile. “I already told you that I was still beyond pissed.” 

Furrowing your brows, the flood of frustration boiled over, as if it were a pot of water on high heat. “How ignorant are you? To send someone on your fucking revenge mission because you had no way of doing it yourself. I can’t forgive you for doing that to her.”

Nodding his head, he outstretched his bad leg, wincing as he did so, the heel of his boot connecting with the floor with a ‘thud’. His curt nod wasn’t in understanding, it was in regret of not finishing the job sooner, back when he had the capabilities to do so.

It was a laughable situation considering the severity of it. He‘s lost his eye, his ability to walk normally, the warmness of his heart, his brother, and his sanity — but still consumed with a fury so deep, that it permanently rattled his soul. 

Without a second thought, he spoke again, tapping the pads of his dirt-covered hands onto the grass-stained denim of his jeans. “Now, hold on a minute. I’m not asking for your forgiveness. I’m just asking ya to understand.’

“There’s nothing else to understand, Tommy. She’s not coming back. No matter how many times you sneak out of Jackson and pray to whatever the fuck you believe in that things would’ve ended on your terms.” 

Scrunching your nose, you turned your head to the side, not wanting him to see the tears threatening to spill onto your heated cheeks.

 “She’s not fucking coming back here. I appreciate your constant reassurance throughout these past couple of months but it’s not doing anything for me.”

Rubbing your wet hands on the rough texture of your jeans, you lifted yourself from your position, wiping furiously at your puffy lids with the back of your hand. “I think we’re done here. You should go.”

Giving him no time to respond, you quickly scurried over to the door, pulling it open to let in a rush of warm air that did little to decrease the number of goosebumps dotted on your skin. Despite the blurriness of your vision, you eyed him cautiously as he struggled to lift himself, slowly limping over and out to the creaky, dented wood of the porch. 

“There’s a bonfire tonight… I know the time isn’t right but you’ve been cooped up inside here for a month. Everybody wants to see you there.” 

Lifting a hand, you circled the pad of your thumb around the shape of your lips — a habit to distract yourself from thinking about her. 

God, think about anything else but her. Please.

“Uh - I don’t know.” Without waiting for a reply, you shut the door right in his face, the frame rattling from the force, an echo from the sound the only thing keeping you company.

But as it faded to silence, you were back with your thoughts, left to wallow in self-pity. 

You were alone. 

And that’s how it was always going to be.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Flickers of orange ember lifted upward - curling themselves around lingering smoke. It easily dispersed in the thick surrounding air, transforming into nothing as you blinked, vision blurred from the harsh burn of the blackening, ashed wood that sat upon muggy soil. 

Droplets of water from earlier rainfall reflected in the sun, perfectly placed on vibrant green tree leaves.

 The scent of wet grass and damp earth made you sniff lightly. Your nose scrunched, left hand moving near your nostrils to wipe at it with the elongated sleeve of your thin sweater. 

With the flesh of your lips pulling back, a pained expression crossed over the muscles in your face, the rough material stinging the skin right under your nose - above your upper lip. 

You weren’t crying. 

That was something you had tried to convince yourself for the thousandth time in the past half hour as you stared ahead at the flames of the small fire that had been started just an hour ago.

There was already a small pile of ashes, just about an inch or so, being carried by a gentle breeze that would occasionally appear.

Secretly, you were thankful for the gust of wind seeping through the small holes embedded in your shirt and slowly easing its way to your skin, chilling the heat oozing off every crevice of your being. Gripping the tiny, tin cup in your left hand, your fingers bent around the handle - almost unnaturally as the blood drained from your knuckles, leaving them sore.

After a long debate with yourself in the foreground of your mind, you had taken Tommy up on his offer for some fresh air. The decision wasn’t as hard as you were making it out to be despite wanting nothing more than to crawl back under the comfort of your sheets. You needed this. You needed to get out of your house and socialize with people who were - hopefully - still your friends albeit the large lack of communication.

It wasn’t as if you were expecting them to understand - it was quite the opposite. You weren’t in the position to assume that they’d be able to take the time and make sure that you were okay, despite the amount of grief you were going through. The sadness, the sudden anger, a dimming spark within you. It was all something that you had to deal with yourself.

Although you kept yourself hidden behind cracking walls and a dust-collecting shell of space, it was obvious.

You were an open book. You fucking hated it.

Out of all the things you could dislike and disregard about yourself - about who you are as an individual forced to kill — one single thing always stuck — the small amount of hope that fluttered in your chest cavity. 

It was strong, and that kept you up at night, back pressed against your springy mattress, eyes wandering around the cracked foundation of the ceiling, finding something  —  anything that would slowly ease away the lingering numbness within you.

“Hey, you okay there?” Blinking rapidly, you cocked your head to the right, coming face to face with Dina whose face had morphed into one of concern.

Her left arm was wrapped around JJ’s midsection, the leg she propped him on bouncing up and down to eliminate his sudden fuss. Quirking your lips at the corners, you smiled lopsidedly, pressing them into a thin line after a small nod. 

“Yeah… just thinking.” 

The look she gave you was enough to have your left arm raised, uneven fingernails hovering over the nape of your neck as you divert your gaze to a tiny pebble under the sole of your right shoe.

You leaned to one side as she playfully bumped her shoulder with yours, cooing at her son as soon as he started to mindlessly babble to himself. 

“Thinkin’ about what?” Her lips were pulled back, pearly whites on display as she darted her eyes around the area.

You lifted your shoulders, dropping them a couple of seconds after in a shrug, eyes still glued to the pebble near your foot as if it was somehow going to come to life and walk away from you. 

Clearing the non-existent lump in your throat, you shook your head from side to side, gliding your thumb across your nose, sniffling lightly. “I don’t think you’d wanna know. You seem pretty happy right now.”

Awaiting a response, JJ’s babbles filled the tension-filled silence, the crackle of the small fire accompanying his rants as well as the muffled conversations taking place around you. Her brows furrowed, her bottom lip being tugged between her teeth as she swallowed thickly. She understood what you meant. How could she not? She knew you still love Ellie in the same way she does.

Nothing could change that.  As strong and resilient as Ellie was — always a fighter — she wasn’t immortal. It was a realization that had smacked you across the face as soon as Dina had come back in shambles, expressing how Ellie’s need for revenge took away the last bit of sanity she had left.

 At first, she’d lay awake at night with JJ sleeping soundly beside her, making sure to keep a spot on the bed big enough just in case Ellie somehow managed to find her way back home. So she’d have the touch of something familiar against her skin, and breathe in the scent of clean linen and soft pillows.

She was struggling.

With pressure building behind her eyes, Dina bit the inside of her cheek, not quite knowing what to do with the constant thoughts buzzing in her frontal lobe, swarming like bees in a hive as she stared at the side of your face, eyes twinkling with empathy. She knew you had some sort of hope that Ellie was out there, she did too.

“Y’know…” She trailed off, mouth opening and closing as she searched for the right words. “I used to think it was the end of the world - not having her here I mean. I got so used to a routine with her that I thought she made peace with letting her go.”

Momentarily closing your eyes, you took a sip of whatever was in your cup to soothe the dryness in your throat, a frown forming on your lips soon after, a small breeze causing you to breathe shakily. 

You remembered your earlier conversations with Tommy a couple of months after he returned from Seattle. He had told you that Ellie and Dina had up and left Jackson to go live on some farm a good bit away. This honestly came as a surprise to you because it seemed somewhat out of character for her, but then again, you never really know someone when you think you do.

He had told you all about his journey to Seattle; who and what he encountered. It was odd. A once well-composed, calm, and talkative man lost himself after the loss of his older sibling, his appearance was forever altered as well as his mindset.

Feeling your heart sink at the thought, you focused on the warmth of the fire hitting your face, smoke billowing from the orange flickers as the moon took over the sky, slowly replacing the sun. 

“She’s stubborn. You should know that. When Ellie starts something, she finishes it, no matter how stupid it is.” Rolling your eyes to no one in particular, you looked down at JJ whose small head was buried into his mother's side, lashes fluttering as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

Dina snorted. “God, I hate that you’re right.”

“She loved Joel a lot, y’know. I’m guessing whatever the fuck Tommy said  that day got to her.”

Dina furrowed her brows, adjusting JJ so that he was in a more comfortable position, the side of her face glowing a gentle red. “It was fucking ridiculous. You should’ve seen the look on her face. She wasn’t doing well initially, but he made it harder for her. ”

“Tommy didn’t tell me exactly what he said. Only that he regretted it badly after and that you told him off for it. Rightfully so.” Puffing out your cheeks in a breath you scanned your eyes around the area, zeroing in on a group of children happily eating sandwiches, bent over close to the dirt, pointing out small insects burrowing beneath the still damp soil.

Hearing Dina sigh, you watched from her peripheral as she lifted herself from the thick log, careful not to disturb JJ’s deep slumber as he stuck his tongue out of his mouth.

“I think I’m gonna call it a night. Should take advantage of the fact that he’s sleeping.” She chuckled lightly, moving her mouth at an odd angle to blow a strand of dark hair away from her eyes.

Giving her a tight-lipped smile, you nodded curtly, watching as she distanced herself from you and went over to a group of older folks to say goodbye to. Turning your attention back down to your cup, you sloshed it from side to side, ready to zone out once more until you felt the presence of someone behind you. 

“Are you gonna keep standing behind me like some sort of creep or…?.”

Jumping slightly as his hand landed harshly on your left shoulder, you rubbed you set your cup down next to you, rubbing your arm in slight discomfort. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare ya. Glad you came despite uh, you know....”

“I didn’t come because you wanted me to.” 

Sighing loudly, Tommy cocked his head toward the sky, inhaling largely before exhaling, getting himself lightheaded in the process. “I know. I guess that was my way of … apologizin’.”

Raising your eyebrows in surprise, the expression disappeared as quickly as it had come. “Oh wow. Did you fall and hit your head on the way over here or something cause I could’ve just sworn you said sor-” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Waving a hand in your direction, he rolled his eyes, chuckling under his breath when your laughter reached his ears. Although he would never admit it aloud, it was a nice thing to hear.

“I accept your lame attempt at an apology.” You stated playfully, clapping your hands together and entwining your fingers with one another. 

“Good.” He sighed, clearing his throat afterward to get rid of the sudden awkwardness that took over. 

“Have you talked to Maria yet?” 

“She wouldn’t wanna talk to me even if I tried, kid.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do too. She said so herself.”

Clicking your tongue on the roof of your mouth you gave him the most intense side eye you could muster, sucking in cool air through clenched teeth. “Wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“It would.”

Rising from your position, you dusted your palms off on your jeans, looking back at him as the wind whipped through his untamed hair, making small tendrils stick in different directions. “You motivate me to stop sitting on my ass so I'm telling you to get up off of yours now. Seriously, Tommy, you’re miserable.”

He chuckled dryly, slapping his right hand on his thigh as if you told him the funniest thing in the world. The loud slap echoed enough to have a couple of people snap their heads in your direction to see what exactly warranted a reaction like that from him. Rolling your eyes as far back into your head as they could go, you turned your body to face him fully, hand on your hip. 

“What’s so funny?”

“I appreciate you trying to give me an encouraging speech — “

“  — It wasn’t supposed to be encouraging, merely just an observation.” You sputtered, feeling your face heat at his correct assumption you tried to adamantly deny. 

“Sure. Well, whatever that was, you’re bad at it.” 

With the feeling of slight embarrassment walking its fingers up to grip your shoulder, you widened your jaw a bit, licking your chapped lips before you put your hand over your heart in faux hurt. “Ouch.”

“Regardless, I am thankful for how you’re trying to help me.” He expressed, staring up at you with dark eyes, lids heavy with lack of sleep. “But, it’s not the right time to say anythin’ to her just yet. I must sort myself out before making a big leap like that.”

Running the wet muscle of your tongue across your teeth, you took in his words, blankly staring at the creases in his forehead as he pinched the bridge of his nose in growing frustration. 

The tone of your voice softened, words coming out above a whisper, “That’s respectable. I don’t know how it doesn’t drive you insane though. Constantly trying to figure out solutions to problems that are out of your control.”

Tommy lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Even before all of this,” Motioning to the crowds of people scattered about, innocent children playing with toys and the aging buildings that still stood, “problems are always out of your control but in someone else’s hands. There’s a reason for everything.”

“But there’s a solution for everything too.” You tutted, wagging a finger at him. 

“Since when you’d become so wise?”

“Since you told me that I'm bad at giving encouraging words.”

“I thought you said you weren’t trying to encourage me.”

“Whatever.”

Spinning on your heels, a cloud of dirt appeared around your feet. You shooed him away. “I’m going home. Keep yourself out of trouble.”

Tommy shook his head, fighting the strong urge to smile as he shouted at your retreating figure. “Always do!”

“I beg to differ!”

With a cheeky smile on your face and aching cheeks, you kept your head high as you made your way home, waving at those who lingered outside, having their private conversations under the dim light of the moon. The air was crisp, the crunch of leaves beneath your feet all you could focus on until you turned the street, your shadow combining with the shapes it came across. During heated nights, you and Ellie would sneak out  — roaming the streets of Jackson without a care in the world, shushing each other to not cause a disturbance to those curled up in their beds. 

She enjoyed making shapes underneath the strung-up lights littered around every corner, having you guess what animal she was making, bending each of her fingers. You were never really good at it. No matter how hard she tried to teach you the different kinds of objects you could shape your fingers into, you had given up quickly, insisting that she was a natural at everything she tried her hand in. 

Stopping under a source of light illuminating the concrete from a nearby porch, you raised both of your hands, staring at your shadow as you bent your fingers in an attempt to make a rabbit, failing drastically. 

“I was never good at that shit.” You mumbled to yourself, dragging the soles of your beat-up sneakers against the pavement. 

Shoving your hands in the pockets of your sweater, you picked at a loose string, pinching and pulling as Joel’s house came into view. 

As you neared, interest was piqued within you at the source of light that stuck out like a sore thumb, shrouded by a large tree but very visible in the darkness of the night. Quickening your pace, you raised your brows in curiosity, making your way up the steps and around to the back of the house where Ellie’s shed stood. 

You were dreaming. That had to be the only plausible explanation as to why you were seeing what you were currently seeing right now  — or maybe you were hallucinating  — you had to be. With your heart beating quickly in the small space in your chest, thumping loudly in your ears, you drew in a sharp breath, biting the side of your cheek as you slowly took in the back of a plaid, button-up shirt, gaze drifting to dirt covered jeans before landing on the old converse sneakers you knew all too well. 

“Ellie?”

[elliespuns]

Interesting idea…do you remember the “fake trailer” where Joel was swapped out for Jesse but it gave the impression that Joel was with her during Seattle…well what if she did see him but it was like his ghost or a figment of her imagination that followed her for the rest of her journey??

Like he could ask her why she kept his watch and gun but he’s okay with her having them because it makes her feel close to him.

“But I’m right here kiddo.”

“Yeah except you’re not though.” 😢

This fake trailer was such a rob off. They robbed us of the possibility of Ellie going crazy and having Joel there with her the whole time on her journey. Just imagine if we got to experience it through her eyes. Joel would be traveling with us as Ellie did with Joel in Part 1, and she'd be talking to him, asking him for advice, bickering with him, and having deeper conversations with him. This would have been such good content if they decided to keep Joel as a "ghost" Ellie can't shake. 

And then, at the end of Part 2, when she finally let him go, he'd say goodbye and walk slowly into the sea. I'd bawl my eyes out even more than I did with the original ending.

[gifs: djo]

[tlouslut]

TATTOOS PART 2

WARNINGS: smut!!! MINORS DNI!!!

WORDS: like 5K loll

Part one

————————————————————————————————-

"Stop twitching Ellie." You scolded half heartedly. The red headed woman mumbled an apology. This was your third tattoo session with Ellie, you'd been living in Jackson for a couple months now. Once you were well enough, Ellie begged you to give her a tattoo. She said she didn't care what it was or where, she just admired your sleeve enough she wanted a piece of your art inked into her skin.

"When did you learn how to tattoo?" Ellie asked. You found the time passed and eased her focus on the pain better when you both spoke. You had hung out with Ellie and all her friends at the Tipsy Bison a couple times but mostly kept to yourself. The people here were warm and inviting.

"I think I was 11 or 12. I had been traveling with this super old woman, she had tattoos everywhere she could reach. She taught me how, purely so I could tattoo where she couldn't reach. She told me that if I looked mean enough, that maybe other people would leave me alone." You told her softly smiling as you remembered the woman. You travelled with her for a very long time, but once you completed her back piece, she died.

"That's insane." Ellie breathed. You hummed in response, you were adding to Ellie's forearm tattoo with the fern and the moth. You added twisting vines, a snake wrapping up her forearm, some flowers and some smaller moths so the piece was tied together. You wiped your brow, pulling back to look at Ellie's face.

"Who did this one?" You asked, tapping on the moth. Ellie shifted her seat uncomfortably.

"My ex girlfriend, Cat did it for me." Ellie sighed. You raised your brows at the sliver of information Ellie laid bare before you.

"I did a tattoo for, I wouldn't say an ex-girlfriend, but like ex-romantic partner. She loved it so much she threatened to kill me if I didn't complete an entire leg sleeve for her." You chuckled. You and a girl named Melissa up in Washington had hooked up a couple times and stayed up late talking. Only when she could sneak away from her patrol with the military group she stayed with inside Seattle was when you'd see her. You stayed around for a month or so before she threatened to kill you and you killed her instead.

        "Did you do it, the leg tattoo?" Ellie frowned. You tilted your head back and laughed a bit.

        "No. I don't take kindly to threats like that." You hummed before continuing the tattoo. You were currently working on another leaf pattern.

        "Why did you stay with that group for so long then." Ellie asked another question, you flicked your gaze up from the needle you were currently using to meet her intense gaze.

        "They offered me a chance at survival in exchange for something I love doing. Yes I hated them, but they weren't a threat I could take out on my own. With the girl I knew I could kill her and get away, but my hands were tied with them." You explained focusing on the veins of the plant forever inked into Ellie's skin. "What's with all the questions today Ellie?" It was your turn to ask her a question.

       "I guess, I'm curious about you." Ellie chewed on her lip nervously. "I've never met someone like you." You smiled to yourself, hoping the blush on your cheeks wasn't as bright as you thought it was.

        "I've never really done a tattoo that I liked. When I tattooed for that group all they wanted were like skulls and shit. I've always wanted to do a sleeve like this, its almost the sister to mine." You rambled. You flicked your gaze up to Ellie to see she had her eyes closed and was biting her lip. You would be lying if you didn't like she was beautiful, but you had only been here a short while and didn't know if she had a girlfriend or anything like that. Ellie was trying so hard not to twitch, you could see her concentration. You pulled the needle away, watching her open her eyes in confusion.

       "Why'd you stop?" Ellie pouted.

       "I thought you were gonna pass out you were trying so hard not to twitch." You grinned at her. "I think we're done for today." Ellie opened her mouth to protest but you already stood from your short stool, stretching your limbs as your joints popped.

"Hey, there's a party tonight. In the barn, I'm sure you've heard of it. But I was wondering if you were going tonight?" Ellie asked nervously, chewing on her lip as you cleaned and wrapped her arm. You looked up into those lovely green eyes. During the time you'd spent alone with her, so close you could feel the heat radiating from her skin, you had gotten close with the woman.

"I think I will, I wasn't but then you asked." You winked at her cheekily. Your smile widened at her flushed cheeks.

"Wear something pretty." Ellie teased, trying to fluster you obviously. You took the step so you and Ellie were sharing the same breaths.

"It's not about what I'll be wearing, but what's underneath. Hm?" You hummed, your voice was barely a whisper. You smiled slyly to yourself at her increased breathing.

"I would have to see about that for myself." Ellie whispered in your ear huskily, sending shivers down your spine. You flicked your gaze down to her lips, breaking the eye contact Ellie seemed to do the same. You opened your mouth to reply when someone knocked on the door to your house. They had an available home with an extra bedroom you had used for a tattoo room, so far Ellie had been your only client. Neither your or Ellie moved to answer the door, the knocking became more persistent. You huffed a laugh tracing your fingers absentmindedly down Ellie's non tattooed arm, from her inner elbow to her wrist.

"I suppose I should answer that." You rolled your eyes stepping away from Ellie, much to your heart's protest. The damn thing was about to beat out of your chest. When you opened the door, you weren't surprised to find Dina there.

"Hey (YN)! Is Ellie here still? I know she mentioned having a tattoo session with you today, I just need her help with something." Dina rambled, wringing her fingers nervously. The dark haired woman was stunning, her skin warm from the setting summer sun and her espresso eyes glittered with anxiety. At the end of every session with Ellie it was like she had a timer set, she would knock on your door to retrieve Ellie to 'help her with something'.

"Come in Dina." You smiled softly, stepping out of the doorway so she could pad into your home. Mostly empty except for now; you had a bed, a dining set, some chairs in your living room, and a smaller chair and table set up in the extra room for tattooing. You found Ellie sitting at your dining room table which ended up being your base of operations. You had a few sketchbooks you had found and filled scattered across the table along with loose sketches for Ellie's sleeve. The red haired woman was flipping through them, her mouth slightly open.

"It's rude to look through things that aren't yours." You teased from the doorway. Ellie flushed pink and shut the sketchbook she was looking through. Her mouth opened and closed as she stumbled for something to stay. Then she saw Dina behind you who waved shyly.

"Hey Dina." Ellie greeted, standing from the table. "Sorry (YN), I couldn't help myself. They are amazing." She said to you sheepishly.

"Hey Ellie, I was just swinging by to grab you to see if you could help set up some stuff." Dina smiled hopefully up at Ellie. You knew Dina was a huge flirt and usually got what she wanted, it made your heart falter as Ellie dragged her gaze from yours to hers.

"Sure." She huffed, turning her gaze back to

you, those emerald eyes were conflicting. "I'll see you tonight, right?" Ellie asked.

"Yeah." You said quietly, watching as Ellie lead Dina out of your home. Once you were alone you sprinted for the shower, after all Ellie did ask you to look nice. And you're not one to disappoint.

Ellie's p.o.v.

"Your tattoo looks nice." Dina commented as we walked towards the barn where the party would be held tonight.

"Thanks, I love it so far." I smiled at the delicate art inked into my stinging skin. I'd sit through hours of the sting of the needle if it meant I'd get to listen to (YN)'s stories.

"Hello? Earth to Ellie?" Dina laughed waving her hand in front of my face. I felt my face turn pink at being caught day dreaming about (YN).

"Sorry, I was just thinking." I fumbled out. I knew why Dina showed up at the end of every tattoo session, it was specifically because of what happened at the end of this one. Dina and I had liked each other on and off for years, we just never got the timing right. She knew that. If Dina hadn't showed up when she did, (YN) and I wouldn't be going to the party at all. The way she shivered when I whispered in her ear made my mind run wild.

"Got a date for the party tonight?" Dina asked, not so subtly. I bit back a frown, I should've asked (YN) to be my date.

"Not a date per say, but it's (YN)'s first party with us. I told her her I'd go with her." I explained simply. Trying to gloss over the tension that built in those few minutes, my mind wandering the the way her fingers trailed my arm.

"Oh." Dina seemed to deflate. She could tell, I mean even Joel could tell I liked her and maybe she liked me back from the way Dina sighed.

"She would totally be down to give you a tattoo, you know. Her art is amazing, I think something even you would enjoy." I smiled at her, Dina peaked at my arm. She examined the nature wrapping around my arm and made a face.

"I don't think I'm cut out for that if I'm honest." Dina sighed again. I bumped my shoulder into her playfully trying to get her to lighten up.

"Come on." I smiled as we approached the barn holding the door open for her.

The party was finally set up. Lights strung up everywhere, food and drinks displayed, and music playing through the speakers of a boom box Eugene had fixed up before he passed. People started to filter in through the doors, then I saw her. It felt like the world slowed down, I did tell her to wear something nice but fuck. She was wearing a dress. Where she found one I'll never know, but it came down to her knee, a slit going up the side to reveal her leg. Tiny daisies embroidered on the light fabric, a square neckline that dipped dangerously low with the spaghetti straps that held it up. She looked like Summer personified, from her dress to her brilliant smile. I made my way to (YN), gently taking her arm and leading her to the bar.

"I know I said wear something nice, you really knocked it out of the park." I breathed, ordering us a couple drinks. (YN)'s tinkling laughter filled the air around us.

"I thought I'd impress you. But remember what I said." She leaned in to whisper, her lips tracing the shell of my ear. "It's what's underneath that counts." My breathing hitched and my heart began to race.

"And what's underneath?" I inquired with equal quiet as we stared into each other's eyes, I swear I felt my soul leave my body when she replied.

"Nothing."

!!SMUT!!

Ellie's p.o.v.

I couldn't keep my eyes off of her. The air was thick with the tension between us, I almost dragged her out of the bar right now. (YN) simply stared at me innocently as she sipped at her beer.

     "Care for a dance?" She grinned mischievously at me. I didn't even get a chance to answer as she prowled onto the dance floor area, my feet had a goal of their own it seemed as they forced me to follow her. When (YN) turned and saw me following like a damn lost puppy her smile brightened, as if I could resist her. The way her skin glowed from the time she spent outside in the summer, her hair clean and shining in the light, and her eyes. Her eyes so full of light and promises.

     "You are so beautiful." I breathed once she took my left hand in hers and placed her other hand on my shoulder. Her cheeks flushed pink as I pulled her close to me, holding her waist with my hand that wasn't in her grip.

      I let her lead me in the quick paced dance through whatever 80s song was blasting, (YN) let me spin her around and then pull her back to me. Her eyes were filled such joy it almost made me forget what she had said earlier.

  "Nothing."

     "What are you thinking about?" (YN) asked as the song ended and flowed into a slower song we could just sway to. She was breathless, wild, brave, she did what she wanted purely because she wanted it.

     "You." I replied honestly. She huffed a laughed and leaned forward, resting her head on my shoulder.

      "You're a shameless flirt." (YN) breathed against my neck making me shiver, she twirled the hair at the base of my neck in her fingers. Tugging gently at it idly as she bit her lip and looked up at me through her lashes. It was like my brain couldn't catch up with my body as I pulled her close to me and kissed her. I could feel her grin into my lips as she kissed me back. I pulled away swiftly as I remembered where we were, I looked around, nobody was staring at us. Nobody was coming to yell-

      "What are you doing?! This is a family function." Seth shouted. Now people gawked at us. Seth was the owner of the bar that was supplying our drinks for this party.

      "What are you doing? Yelling at us at a 'family function'. Get back behind the bar where you can't ruin the night for anyone else." (YN) spat back at him, letting go of me to fling her finger in his face. The old man looked shocked at the outburst.

       "Great. Another loud mouthed dyke-" Seth didn't even finish that sentence before (YN) threw a perfect right hook. The crack of her fist against his jaw was like lightning. Seth stumbled back away from her. "You bitch." Seth snarled as he lunged towards her.

      "Let it go Seth." I warned stepping forward, gripping (YN)'s shaking hand and tugging her backwards a step.

       "Who do you think you are? You just got here. You ungrateful wretch, how-" Seth was cut off a second time by someone beating the shit out of him. Only this time it was Joel. I took the opportunity and pulled (YN) out of the bar, tugging her towards my house.

      Once we were inside (YN) did not move from the entryway. I reached out and held her injured fist.

      "Ellie... I just punched him." She whispered. I laced my fingers with hers and lifted her chin so she was staring into my eyes.

       "Yes. You did. Don't regret it, not for one second. He deserved that." I soothed, my eyes flicking to her lips as her breathing increased.

       "Kiss me, please." (YN) breathed. I didn't need further encouraging, I placed my hands on her hips and backed her against the front door that was clicked shut. I locked it, and finally kissed her.

She tasted like alcohol and it was like I could feel the electricity on her tongue. I couldn't help the gasp that escaped my mouth that allowed her to take control. Her tongue swept through my mouth brushing against mine, I pressed closer to her, flattening her against the door. (YN) tangled her fingers in my hair pulling me closer I could almost hear her tinkling voice in my head. More more more.

I broke away to kiss down her jaw, down her neck. Marking her in a few places, her whines encouraged me further, I would bite gently on a soft spot making her go absolutely rigid against me, then plaster soft kiss over the spot. We both went still when someone knocked on my door. Urgently. I rested my forehead against hers, laughing lightly. She joined in, I was sure the person on the other side of the door could hear.

"Don't answer it please." (YN) begged.

"They know we're here, they probably could hear us through the door." I giggled quietly, the mischievous grin that spread across (YN)'s face I regretted saying that. Almost.

She pulled me in for another kiss. This one was hot and swift, tongues and the teeth, those damn hands of her wandered down my sides and then she brazenly cupped my breasts over the shirt forcing a moan to escape my throat. The knocking paused, and then continued. Louder this time.

"Did you like that?" (YN) breathed in my ear, making me shiver. I nodded. Not wanting to totally give in to her. She massaged my breasts and then when she could feel my nipples harden beneath my thin sports bra she pinched them.

"I said. Did you like that?" (YN) ordered, trailing her mouth down the side of my neck, one hands still working my tit and the other one groping my ass, pulling me closer to her. I couldn't form words around her sinuous hands, I moaned louder in response. The knocking stopped.

"I hope it wasn't Joel at the door." I said seriously, pulling away from her to place my hand around her throat. Not squeezing just resting there, (YN)'s breathing quickened. "Is this okay?" I inquired, scanning her beautiful face before me.

"Ellie if you don't fuck me im going to go insane." (YN) pleaded. I smirked at her, seeing the need in her face, in the way she rubbed her thighs together, in the way her hands were just itching to do touch me. I turned her around swiftly so her front was pressed against my door, I really hope whoever was on the other side was gone because the moan that escaped (YN)'s lips as I pressed my hips into her ass, was by far the most erotic and angelic sound I had ever heard.

"May I?" I asked messing with the zipper of her dress, she nodded eagerly.

"Yes." She pleaded as I ever so slowly unzipped the dress revealing spans of lovely skin of her bare back. I kissed every inch I unzipped down her spine. When that damned dress finally came loose and I slid the straps off her shoulders, watching as she stepped out of where it pooled at her ankles. She wasn't lying when she said she wasn't wearing anything underneath.

      "You are so beautiful." I sighed against her shoulder, ghosting my mouth against the newly exposed skin. I could hear (YN)'s words become ragged as I nipped at her shoulder blades. "I'm not going to fuck you against my front door though."

     The whine that left her lips made me grin, she turned around in my arms tangling her hands in my hair as she drank in my face.

      "If you're not going to fuck me against the door, where exactly are you going to fuck me?" She breathed as my fingers brushed the undersides of her breasts, trailing to her waist.

      "My bed." I purred in her ear, lifting her to wrap her legs around my waist. (YN) sealed her lips against mine, running her tongue along the seam of my mouth, I denied her the access so I could focus on getting to my bedroom.

       "You are far too clothed for my taste." (YN)'s lips brushed against the shell of my ear making me shiver. A sly grin spread across her face as she pressed her body against mine making a soft moan escape my throat. Finally we got to my bedroom, I slid her gently onto the mattress, her knees bent at the edge baring her dripping cunt to me.

       "You know, every time you tattooed me all I could think about was this moment. When I could finally taste every inch of your skin." I breathed, shedding my shirt quickly. My skin felt too hot under her lidded gaze. I started at her mouth, gasping into her lips as she brazenly cupped my breasts over my bra. (YN) made a frustrated noise before reaching around me and undoing my bra with one hand.

      I bit her lip in reprimand before moving away to toss my bra away from us, leaving marks and bites along her delicate throat. I could feel the vibrations of her moans against my lips, I allowed my hands to travel. Ghosting along her ribs, her hips, teasingly along her inner thighs.

      "Ellie please, fuck." (YN) begged. I never thought I'd hear such an angelic sound. Who was I to ignore her pleas? I allowed a single digit to enter her slick folds, the shuddering moan she let out was a symphony. I added another finger, working inside her curling up and as deep as I could. All I could do was watch (YN)'s face as her eyes squeezed shut and her back arched. One of her hand gripped my hair tightly, she inhaled sharply as I traced my thumb over her clit. I flicked the bundle of nerves every time I slammed my fingers into her, finding the sponge like spot along the top.

     "Right there, please Ellie let me cum." (YN) pleaded, her nails scraping against my scalp deliciously. As much I would have loved to finish her right there, I thought the sight would be better from a different view. I removed my fingers and a guttural sound escaped her lips, soon my fingers were replaced by my tongue. I moaned into her at the taste of her core. Better than I've ever imagined.

       I watched her face as I sucked on her clit harshly and then softly lapping at the delicate nub to make up for the slight pain. I reached up with one hand to massage her breasts, watching her face as I worked her clit with my tongue and then entered three fingers. I moved them quickly, having to stop paying attention to her tit in favor of holding her rolling hips still. A warning cry left her lips and I looked up just in time to see her head tip back and her eyes flutter shut as her release barreled through her.

      "Jesus fucking Christ." (YN) moaned trying to regain her breathing. I smiled and kissed her thighs, up her belly, in between her breast, up her throat, and finally her mouth again.

       "Nope just me." I grinned against her mouth, she huffed a laugh and stared up at me innocently. I could feel my heart soften at the sight of this beautiful woman beneath me.

       "You are too cheeky for your own good." (YN) grinned mischievously, lifting her leg to come between my own allowing delicious friction where I needed it most. (YN) took advantage of the distraction and flipped out position, keeping her leg between mine she allowed her thigh to press against my center. "You still have your pants on." (YN) hummed, disappointment lacing her tone as she pulled away. I lifted my hips to allow her to pull my jeans and my underwear off in one smooth motion. (YN) ran just the tip of her pointer finger up my slit, watching me as a whine escaped my mouth.

       "(YN)...fuck me." It was my turn to beg it seemed. The grin on the beautiful woman's face was enough to make me bite my lip to stop another gasping moan to find its way out of my throat. (YN) did not like this, she wrapped her hand around my throat squeezing lightly forcing the moan out of my mouth.

       "I want all of Jackson to hear you, fuck I want all of Wyoming to be able to hear you as I devour you." (YN) breathed against my collarbone, her fingers travelled down my arms, her nails scraping against the sides of my breasts as she made her way down my ribs and to my hips.

       "Please for the love of fu-" and before I could finish my complaint she dove two fingers into my folds, adjusting her position so she could suck and tease my nipple while keeping her focus on curling and ruining me with her fingers. I arched into her mouth allowing a long, breathy noise to fly from my mouth. I glanced down to find her watching me intently as her thumb began running circles around my clit. I gasped tipping my head back and fisting my hands in her hair, my hips lifting to meet her pace. She removed her fingers but kept the pressure on the pearl, only stopping to quickly replace her fingers with her face. Lifting one of my legs over her shoulders where (YN) knelt before me so she could have more access.

       "You taste like water after a drought in the desert." (YN) cooed up at me, the vibrations causing another breathy sigh to escape me. One swipe of her tongue threw me to the edge of the world, so when she began to be true to her promise of devouring me.  I wasn't sure if I would ever have sex with anyone again. Her tongue slipped inside of me, swirling as exploring as deep as (YN) could get. My back was going to snap at the rate for how much I've arched it into her touch. I could feel her hands snaking up the sheets, she laced her fingers with where my hand had been gripping the bedding. Her other hand held my hips still. Her mouth was like heaven, if the damn place existed.  I could feel the coil in my abdomen begin to tighten almost to the snapping point.

       "(YN), don't stop please fuck." I moaned. If anything my cries encouraged her more, her tongue working inside me and then my clit and then sweeping back inside me made me see stars.

       "Let go Ellie." (YN) hummed. I felt it barreling down my spine, I gripped her hand tightly, arching my hips into her mouth. A long plea escaped my throat as I slowly drifted down from the high. I could feel (YN) lay beside me on the bed, tracing circles along my rib cage.

       "I..I have never experienced anything like that." I breathed, looking at her stunning face to find her grinning proudly at me.

      "I hope we can do this again sometime, I'm not sure how I'll keep my hands off you during our tattoo session." (YN) giggled. I grinned back at her, pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

      "I hope for my sake, that you don't." I winked.

It was the end of our tattoo session after we had sex. One look into her (EC) orbs and I knew no matter how hard Dina knocked at the door after this session there would be nobody to answer. But this time, nobody knocked. For a startled moment I realized it was Dina at my door last night.

My one brush of (YN)'s lips over mine had me forgetting all about it.

[abbyshands]

𐚁⊹₊ ⋆ YOU GOT ME, DARLING 𓄀 part 1

“i- i meant, like, heat-wise. it’s in the, um, 80’s right now,” abby replies awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck like it’ll settle the nerves having a field day in her veins. “but you are pretty hot,” she mumbles under her breath.

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𓄀 pairing: cowgirl!reader x city girl!abby anderson

𓄀 includes: masc!reader, tall!reader, reader has tattoos and piercings and is implied to be muscular, established friendships (abby x ellie, dina, and manny), reader has an established backstory, modern setting, flirting, reader has an accent so read as such!

𓄀 summary: you decide to represent your business, cowboy classics, at seattle’s annual farmer’s market, unaware that the universe would send an angel with blonde hair and blue eyes to your feet.

𓄀 notes: so i had a lil’ idea and i ran with it so i present this lil’ series i’m gonna start <3 i have lots of ideas for it so be prepared for it to be a lil’ all over the place if i’m being honest. also, eventual smut of course! please comment or let me know if you want to be tagged. alright now, enjoy! ♡

𓄀 wc: 3k

every year, seattle hosts a farmer’s market that lasts a week, the hottest week of the summer. for the last, dear god, however many years you had lived here, you had never come to it, much less represented your business at it. but this year, you figured, why not? all your other friends were pooling into the heart of the city to attend the yearly market, so why couldn’t you?

you weren’t the biggest fan of seattle when you first arrived here. it was a stark contrast from where you grew up, a little prairie in rural texas. you remember shuddering each time you passed by a building the first week you lived here, wondering, where the hell are the fields?

seattle was just so different. rainy, cold, urbanized down to the last letter. you had moved here from texas when you were only 18 by your parents’ wishes for you to go to a college, get a degree, and get a damn job. your parents had been hard on you growing up for reasons unbeknownst to you, not like it mattered. not then, and not now.

after studying in college for two years and narrowly managing to get an associate’s degree in business, you decided to not pursue your bachelor’s, instead getting right to work. you earned yourself a job as a construction worker, the closest you had gotten to home since moving to seattle two years prior. the hot days when the sun came out in the summer, the rigorous work outside, the dirt on your skin by evening to show for a job well done. it was all you could have asked for and more.

when you managed to get yourself afloat, considerably well off, you ventured right outside urban seattle and scored yourself a little farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, far up a mile long dirt road. it was perfect, reminiscent of that old texas charm you had missed so dearly since leaving it. and then, when you finally settled down, you purchased a place bordering the urban and rural areas of seattle to make your own, where you used your associate’s degree and your casual texan charm to open a business.

cowboy classics read the sign hanging off your stand as the hot summer sun beat down on your back, shining down on your skin, which glistened with sweat as you set up your stand. thank god your stall had a roof, or else you’d be a goner for the next few hours that you’d be at the farmer’s market.

the market was crowded that morning, and more people were drawn to you and your stand than you were ready for. you couldn’t say you weren’t flattered, especially when you made a solid hundred dollars in the first hour and pretty girls were all but falling at your feet to buy your merchandise.

cowboy classics consisted of several products right off your farm. fruits like apples, berries, and melons, veggies like corn and peppers, and herbs of all kinds, such as cilantro, parsley, and rosemary, which you had grown yourself. dairy products, like fresh milk in classic milk jugs, regular and strawberry, cream cheese, and smooth butter. jams and jellies that the folks back home and your friends here in seattle could die for. and last but not least, handmade soaps and candles.

one would wonder why your shop was called cowboy classics when you were clearly a girl, if it weren’t for your heavily masculine energy. it seemed to radiate off of you, like the very sunrays shining down on your skin. from your voice, deep and low, thick with a rural texan accent, to your attire, a flannel and jeans, a belt with a big buckle and boots, and you couldn’t miss the cowboy hat, to even your scent, musky cologne mixed with the smells of your farm and all the products you produced from it.

now, city girl abby anderson couldn’t be further from a cowgirl. having grown up in the heart of seattle, washington, abigail “abby” anderson works as a personal trainer at a gym a few blocks away from her house. as tall, big, and muscular as she is, she couldn’t be more awkward. she wasn’t clueless, she just preferred her bed to being so human as to socialize. she was a little shy, but complex in nature, her sweet blue eyes easy to get lost in, her blonde hair shaping her freckled face to flawlessness.

the yearly market was always fun for abby. her dad would always take a few days off his shifts at the hospital just to bring abby to the market, unable to resist the way her eyes lit up when they settled on all the wonders the place had to offer, at least for a little girl. now that she was older, she had grown to adore it even more. it was all so raw, so natural, and the products at the market were inexpensive and could actually be of use to her.

abby was walking through the market with a few friends beside her. her best friend, ellie, her girlfriend, dina, and one of abby’s closest friends, manny. manny liked the market as much as abby did, though it was less for what you could buy and more for what you could take home with you. in other words, the pretty girls. ellie previously just liked to accompany abby to the market, but since having met dina, she came more for dina’s love of it.

“shit, it’s hot,” abby said, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead for the third time in the last ten minutes. her pale forehead glistened with sweat, little blonde baby hairs plastered to it.

ellie chuckled, nodding. “this heat wave’s no fucking joke. we’re going to be liquid by the time we get out of here.”

“ooh, look at that! those shirts are so cute!” dina suddenly exclaimed, causing the group’s attention to snap to a stand of hand knitted shirts and randomized accessories, like scarves, purses, and gloves. before ellie could even respond, dina was dragging her by the hand to the stand.

abby chuckled, having grown quite used to dina’s impulsive nature. when she turned to her side to look to manny, she realized that he had also wandered off, easily finding him chatting up a pretty girl at a different stall. abby rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t keep the amusement off her face. those were her friends for you. looks like she was on her own.

if she was being honest, she preferred to walk through the market alone, at least when she was actually looking through the vendors for good finds. it was reminiscent of her childhood, this little piece of seattle that gave the city girl a taste of what it was like on the other side of urban, even if it only lasted a week.

abby was walking through the market, having yet to find a stand that piqued her interest, when one poked out at her. curiously, she squinted to get a better look at it, her feet approaching it of their own accord. the owner’s back was turned, but abby could tell that it was a woman, one that was a sight for sore eyes, at that. but what interested her, too, was the variety of products at the stand, produce and dairy products, jams and jellies, paired with what looked like soaps and candles.

it was only when she turned around that abby’s attention was hers, and hers only.

who the hell is that?

the closer abby got to your stand, the more intrigued by you she was. you had a face that could bring anybody to their knees, clad in a flannel and dark blue jeans, a brown belt with a huge buckle, and jesus christ, a black cowboy hat to top it off. it was like she had looked one way and been in seattle, washington, than turned and teleported into rural texas. she couldn’t help the way her eyes raked over your body, taking you in in all your glory, tattooed arms and hands with a prominent tattoo on your neck and collarbone, several silver piercings in your ears.

alright, she’d bite.

and she hoped you would, too.

your interest was piqued when you saw her walking up to your stand. the girls who had approached you thus far were pretty, but this girl was a downright stunner. blonde hair tied back in a braid that fell over her right shoulder, exposed by her black tank top, paired with her brown cargo shorts. she had these pretty blue eyes, too, pretty blue eyes that sparkled like sweet diamonds in the burning seattle sun, accompanying the prominent freckles on her nose and cheeks. 

she was muscular like you, only it peaked out in her arms, hands, and thighs, whereas your muscle presented itself in your broad shoulders and chest. you can’t wipe the grin off your face as she approaches your stand, and you set down the soaps you’d just picked up from a crate behind you on the stand, seeing as you had just sold out for the second time since arriving at the market.

“hey there,” you smile at her, and shit, even your voice is alluring, and it matches your face just right. dark, deep and low and thick with rasp, a texan accent to it that was impossible to miss. it was embarrassing for the blonde, just how fast her face heated up, that is, and she gave you a shy smile in response, along with a little awkward wave. “see somethin’ ya’like, baby?”

yes, you.

abby cleared her throat, nodding, trying so hard to ignore the way her stomach flips at the way that last word slipped off your lips. “uh, yeah. your stand is really cool,” abby said, a rosy blush covering her cheeks and nose as she inspected the soaps you had just set down on the counter. before you can respond to her compliment, she asks, “did you make these yourself?”

you nod to confirm, looking down at the soaps she was referring to. “sure did. handmade all day. the folks here quite like ‘em. sold out twice,” you said, leaning over the counter, eyes settled on the blonde girl before you. abby’s battling to ignore how nervous she feels at being in the presence of such a handsome woman, heavily aware of how much taller than her you are.

and she never meets girls who are taller than her.

abby takes one of the soaps into her hands. pine, her scent of choice in cologne, hair products, air freshener, candles, whatever it may be. she would marry the damn scent if she could. reading the label, she realized the scent of the little handmade bar of soap was a mix of pine and vanilla, and she lifted it to her nose to give it a smell, earning the blonde’s instant approval. “well, i can see why. this smells great,” abby commented.

“i’m glad’ya like it,” you chuckle as your tongue darts out to lick your lips, your eyes raking over the girl for the millionth time since she had walked up to your stand. you can’t help but be curious about her. unlike most of the girls you had met at the market thus far, she wasn’t throwing herself at your feet.

though you wouldn’t mind if she did.

“i’m abigail, by the way. abby,” abby said with that awkward grin of hers, putting her hand out for you to shake. abigail. jesus christ, she never introduced herself like that. you were making the poor girl so nervous she couldn't even think right. you take her hand into yours, kissing the back of it before telling her your own name, tipping your hat. shit, even your name made her heart skip a beat.

was there a damn thing about you that abby anderson wasn’t attracted to?

“it’s nice to meet you,” abby smiled, unable to tear her eyes away from you and all the products your stand had to offer. she walked over to a little shelf beside it, stocked with candles of all scents. “did you make these, too?”

“that i did, darlin’. use the same scents as i do the soaps, so if’ya like that pine one, it’s there,” you say. abby nods. you didn’t have to tell her twice. somehow, it only smells better to her when the scent of pine and vanilla fills her nose in the form of a candle. and, of course, because you made it. she sets the candle and soap onto your stand, timid as she slides them over to you, a small mumble of, “just these,” leaving her lips.

you take the candle into your hands, grabbing a piece of brown wrapping paper from the stack of it you had behind the stand. you put it down, setting the candle in the middle of the sheet of paper before wrapping it up and putting it into a little bag alongside the soap. abby would be drooling if her lips were parted, watching the way your muscles flex at even the smallest movements as you wrap the candle up for her.

you give abby a price, to which she takes out her wallet and hands you the bills, graciously telling you to keep the change. you smile at her, more than thankful for her kindness, but not needing the extra money. “that’s alright, baby. i’ll get’ya your change, though i appreciate the gesture,” you return, reaching behind you to fetch a few ones and coins. but not before abby cuts you off.

“n- no, really, i insist. you deserve it,” abby says a little too quickly. an angel this one was, that was for damn sure.

you chuckle, shaking your head. “well, aren’t you sweet. insist, huh?”

abby nods firmly, though the blush on her cheeks betrays the show of confidence. “yes, i insist. you’re going to be here all day, you’re selling awesome products, and you’re hot. it’s the least i could do,” she says, like the fact was common knowledge. you lean in just to tease her, raising an eyebrow.

“ya’think i’m hot, darlin’?”

abby’s eyes widen at how close you get to her face, and how suddenly aware she is of her own existence. she almost can’t hear you over the sound of her heart rattling in her ears, pumping in her chest as the musky scent of your cologne fills her nose. she tries and fails to not let her eyes wander down to your lips and fuck, her head was spinning, spiraling with the handsome cowgirl she could die happy now that she’d met.

“i- i meant, like, heat-wise. it’s in the, um, 80’s right now,” abby replies awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck like it’ll settle the nerves having a field day in her veins. “but you are pretty hot,” she mumbles under her breath.

you sure as hell don’t miss it.

“well, thank’ya kindly, darlin’. you’re mighty fine yourself,” you smirk, and abby’s head was spinning. how did people like you even exist in real life? you were right of of a western movie, the way you looked, the way you sounded, even your energy alone was enough to throw a city girl like abby for a loop. “but you’re damn right. fuck, sweatin’ like a damn sinner in church in this heat,” you say, taking a second to stretch as you do.

abby can’t help the way her cheeks burn at the simple act of you cussing. and she’d tear her eyes from you right now, if it weren’t for the way your flannel rises when you stretch, revealing the lower part of your torso. you make direct eye contact with her and shoot one of your signature smirks her way before speaking. “well, if you’re gonna be such a sweetheart, s’only fair i do a little somethin’ in return,” you say. you reach behind you to the little cooler that’s filled with all the dairy products you make on your farm, rummaging through it. “d’ya like strawberries?”

abby nodded, wondering what you were getting at. “i do.”

“alright, then,” you nod in return, pulling out one of your jugs of strawberry milk and sliding it across the counter towards her. “can’t have a pretty thing like you burnin’ up in this heat, now can we? promise you’ll like it.”

abby cursed the blush on her cheeks, hoping you’d think she was getting sunburnt instead. pretty. you think she’s fucking pretty. “i- i’m sure i will, but i don’t think the change i gave you covers this,” abby said, just about ready to reach into her wallet and give you every last bill in it. but you shake your head, taking her previous words.

“ah ah ah. i insist. alright?” you say, and there’s a no nonsense way about the words that leave your lips, like you won’t take no for an answer, so firm that it sends chills down abby’s spine. she pouts and she’s fucking adorable as she does it. and when she gives you a reluctant nod, you smile. “attagirl.”

jesus christ.

“i’m going to pay you back for this. somehow,” abby says, a hint of brattiness to her voice. you can’t say you don’t like it, especially when it’s accompanied with that cute pout of hers. you chuckle as she asks, “what do you want?”

“hm,” you pretend to think about it, putting your hands on your hips as you push your tongue into your cheek. abby’s trying and failing hard not to look at the sweat dripping down your tattooed arms. you make up your mind, then look down at her. “why don’t’cha come back tomorrow? late, when the market’s ‘bout to close. i’ll show’ya how to make it up to me,” you say with a wink.

abby’s heart skips a beat at your words. she doesn’t think she’s ever been more happy to hear a promise like that one. her smile is equal parts coy and shy as she responds to you. “i’ll be here.”

no matter how confident you look on the outside, butterflies are swarming ‘round your belly within. a pretty girl like this one, shy and sweet, generous and kind, was going to come back tomorrow to see you, no convincing needed. had you died and gone to heaven? you smile, blowing abby a little kiss. “alright, then. take care now, abigail,” you tease, just as she’s about to walk away. abby playfully rolls her eyes at you.

“abby.”

𐚁⊹₊ ⋆ taglist! @aouiaa @plutolovesyou @soupycloud @xayn-xd