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i need a butch i need a butch i need a butch i need a butch i need a butch i need a butch i need a butch i need a butch i need a butch i need a butch i need a butch

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ellie williams is not a dom/stone top. bro is SO whiny (like when dina got on top of her and threatened to bite her) girl is definitely a sub/switch. dare i say she could even be a pillow princess with the right person. she’s also not a complete mean, toxic stoner. girl only smokes when it’s available, she would not go out of her way to get weed

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ᢉ𐭩 hi can we make more nerd ellie williams fics where she actually has a personality and isn't 100% a lustful sex demon whos plotting on you like prey and cheating ho or a hardcore drug dealer (even tho sometimes i eat these up!!😅)

ᢉ𐭩 i want more nerdy soft dom/sub fics of her (maybe i'm just a softie guys) and pls if a writer is reading this tag me if you perhaps would like to bless this poor closeted soul with a fanfic like this i'll be oh so thankful and maybe we can be moots coughcough ok bye

first post kinda nervous (im probably taking this in my own hands LMAO)

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married life w/ ellie on a farm⌇you’re ovulating**

farmer!ellie x fem!reader

warnings ⌇word count 705, smut, established relationship (married), fignering (r! receiving), strap in v (r!receiving), making out, grinding, degrading (slut, whore), r wearing a dress

You felt it when you woke up, the wet feeling in your underwear when you shifted in bed. Arousal. It started when the sun rose and carried within you throughout the rest of the day. Ellie had been out earlier than usual, concerned over a specific part of the field. She’d met up with another farmer today to assess the issue, trying to see how to get the crops growing healthy again. So, you were left in the house by yourself. 

You slid out of bed to get ready, before sliding on your boots set by the front door to walk out to meet Ellie. The fields were a distance away, but you walked there, your dog walking beside you as you made your way over. She stood out there, hands on her hips, hair pulled back–and damn you felt like a downright whore the way you clenched around nothing. Your mind filled with ways you wanted her to take you, how you wanted her sweaty body on you, how you wished to tug her hair out of the ponytail she had it in. You needed her, now.

Some other older man stood beside her, his deep voice carrying throughout the field. You crossed over, moving to both of them. Ellie smiles when she notices you, proud and happy to see you.

“Hey babe,” she says, kissing you for a quick second before focusing her attention back on the farm. Your thoughts were outrageous, wishing she took her attention off of the farm for a second and paid attention to you instead–to the problem growing between your legs. 

Took some time, but eventually the man left and Ellie moved towards the sheltered area–where the tractors and such were held. She leans into her truck, grabbing something in the front seat when you walk up behind her.

“How’s your morning been–mm!”

You shot forward, kissing her when she turned back around. Her back is pressed back against the car, your body stepping closer. She succumbs fast, flipping the both of you. Her hand reaches under your left thigh–wrapping the one leg around her waist, opening you up to her. She kisses you passionately, her fingers fucking into you easily due to the easy access your dress provides.She knew. She knew fully well when your ass decided to get out of bed and walk such a distance just to come see her–she knew you had intent, she was just waiting for you to take action. She breaks you apart there, against her truck in the wide open space–the metal shade structure. 

You weren’t satisfied though. 

Later that day she came back to the house to grab some water. You were outside on the front patio waiting, a glass of water in your hands. Second she set that glass down, she noticed the dark look in your eyes–the need. You had almost purred when she grabbed your waist and strung you along inside, fucking you there on her tongue against the wall. 

“Did you come already?” she mocks, grinning up at you. 

You whined, embarrassed, “sorry…”

“No,” she hums, kissing your inner thigh before pushing your dress back down, “definitely don’t be sorry.” 

Third time and the rest following was spent with her fucking you senseless into the matress, your legs hiked up so far that she had you in a mating press. Her length reached so deep, a wet sound echoing in the room with each thrust of her hips into your needy core.

“Come again for me,” she huffs, breathless, “I know you can.”

“E-Ells, ‘m sensitive. Slow down–!”

She does, teasingly just to watch how your eyes shoot open–to listen to your demanding pleas. 

“We both know you’re too much of a greedy slut to ask me to slow down,” she says in the crook of your neck before speeding up again, hiking one of your legs over her shoulder. Yeah, she wasn’t slowing down anytime soon. 

married life w/ ellie on the farm m.list

taglist // @kaykeryyy

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Hi! Can you please write about Ellie getting head for the first time <3

warnings: oral sex, sub!ellie omg this is a rare occasion for me, porn with little plot

She didn’t know why you liked her so much, but Ellie didn’t complain. Not one bit.

You invited her over for the usual–a sleepover with yellow, buttered popcorn and a movie. The past few times she had stayed over, she tried not to even admit it within the depths of her brain. You made her weak, like a beggar that couldn’t be satiated. You were the one thing that made her lose focus from even Star Trek, and that was unnatural. It wasn’t unwelcome by any means, but it was definitely not convenient for Ellie.

She couldn’t understand why you chose her of all people. She reasoned with herself that you didn’t technically choose her for anything. You two were just friends, and the flirting you threw upon the nerve-wracked girl was only the words that girls can exchange without having to be romantically involved. Right? Probably not.

The past few times, you only let your touch linger in small lengths. Your hand crept upon her arm, fingernail brushing against her tattoo. You made her breath shorten in a way that she wanted to be annoyed about. Each night was torture, and yet she found herself back on your couch, stuffing her mouth with microwaved Orville as you simply squeezed her hand with your own. The act itself was innocent, sweet. Ellie guessed that you got bored, because soon you were kneeling between her for the first time, and your lips were brushing against her jeans. 

“How far are you gonna take this?” Her voice carried a blend of nerves and need. There was always a thickness to her voice, something that sounded so uniquely like your Ellie that gave your pussy a heartbeat. 

Mouth moving to kiss her clothed hip and a soft mumble, “I’ll eat this pussy if you’ll let me.”

Fuck, Ellie had never heard such filthy words come out of that pretty mouth of yours. Not anywhere but her wet dreams, at least. She tried to adjust her hips and keep herself together, but you were faster. Your hands were on her thighs, fingers spread out. She groaned and let her head fall back on the couch. 

“Do whatever you want.”

You surely didn’t waste time once given the go-ahead. 

Ellie’s bush was a pretty sight. Her clit was already swollen, and her pussy glistened with the light of the tv screen and her juices coating her folds. You were between her eagerly opened legs, but it was staring at you, begging to be devoured. You offered kisses across her thighs to be polite, but you were quite impatient. Soon, your mouth was all over her like the first round of Thanksgiving dinner.

Ellie was losing her shit above you with each smacking sound your mouth left on her pussy; your tongue lavished over her bead and the pressure inside her was building, making it all nearly unbearable. She was like a pretty painting, legs shaking like jelly as she bit her lip to keep her mind functioning. It was so hard not to completely go insane and let herself just beg you to fuck her all night, though. She had a feeling that you would be.

You let her use your face without complaints, taking each sloppy buck of her hips with ease. Ellie could only fall apart when she peeked down. She could see the way you relentlessly worked her, and could only envy the fact that you didn’t look that phased by it. Lick after lick, pressing more pressure onto her before she finally couldn’t take it.

“I think I’m gonna cum-” she cut herself off with a moan and didn’t try to continue, not trusting herself to speak again without whining some incoherent, needy chants. 

You nodded. 

How were you so chill about this? She couldn’t take it anymore, and soon she was tugging your hair and coating your face with her cum. 

You made her feel dizzy in a way no previous, self-given orgasm could make her. It was like a sharp hit to her clit that pulsated throughout her entire body, reaching her brain until it faded into waves of pure bliss. Her hips lazily lifted themselves up and down, and you tongue-fucked her through her orgasm. 

It felt like a complete blackout, but when she finally felt like herself again, she glanced down to see your cheek resting on her stomach. You were like a vision from above, sculpted out to look just like this: features all in purpose, and your hair messy from her fingers grasping it. 

All too soon, you were sitting yourself down onto her lap, cupping her face and smothering her freckled cheeks in pecks. The way you only gave her sweet kisses made her head spin with the contrast of your tongue peeking into her hole just a few moments ago. 

“Wanna watch Jersey Shore?” 

You confused the hell out of Ellie sometimes, and she hated reality tv. But.. you did just fuck her brains out. Jersey Shore it was.

a/n: guys guys i'm working on fics i'm in a bit of a smut rut so idk if this is any good but i had to write SMTH

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ellie williams x reader summary: Ellie’s always hidden behind sarcasm and a crooked smile, but her feelings for you are something she can’t mask. You’re her roommate’s friend, someone she sees in passing, but lately, she can’t help but notice you in the small moments. The way you seem so sure of yourself, so effortlessly warm, while Ellie can’t shake the feeling that she doesn’t belong. She’s terrified of rejection, but even more terrified of never knowing what could happen if she finally took the leap. a/n: btw there's lot's of angst & self sabotage...enjoy!!

The living room hums with muted chatter, the soft clink of glasses meeting over scattered laughter. Ellie leans against the kitchen doorway, nursing the last sip of a lukewarm beer. Her usual mask—a smirk tilted just right to hide the way her jaw tightens—is firmly in place as her eyes drift to you.

You’re perched on the edge of the couch, an easy presence in the chaos. The worn cushion seems to mold perfectly to your frame as if it’s a throne made for someone who belongs exactly where they are. Your laugh carries over the room, and Ellie feels it strike her chest like a pulse of warm air. She doesn’t realize she’s staring until your gaze flicks up, catching hers.

“Ellie,” you say, your voice soft but clear, like a nudge she wasn’t ready for.

She straightens, pushing herself off the doorway. “Hey.” It’s casual, too casual, like she isn’t fighting the urge to flee.

You pat the seat beside you without hesitation. “Come sit. You’ve been lurking in that doorway all night.”

There’s a beat of hesitation before she steps forward, weaving through a sea of legs and beer bottles to claim the spot next to you. Her knee brushes yours, a fleeting touch that sets her nerves alight.

“Didn’t know lurking was a crime,” Ellie says, tilting her head in mock offense.

You grin, and it’s enough to send her heart stumbling over itself. “Depends. Were you spying on me?”

“Spying?” She barks a laugh, almost too loud. “You’re giving yourself a lot of credit, don’t you think?”

You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed but still amused. “Sure, Ellie. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

She’s supposed to come back with something quick, something biting, but instead, she just… falters. Because the way you’re looking at her—like you see through every layer of bravado she’s ever worn—makes it impossible to keep up the act.

For once, Ellie doesn’t know what to say. She’s too busy trying not to fall apart under the weight of your warmth.

The living room has thinned out now, the party unraveling into quiet conversations and muted laughter. Ellie’s arm slings over the backrest, her fingers absently picking at a loose thread on her jeans. 

The room feels smaller somehow, the air heavier. 

You’re scrolling through your phone, searching for a song to play on the speakers. “Anything you wanna listen to?” you ask, glancing at her.

Ellie shrugs, her usual crooked smile faltering for just a second before she catches herself. “Surprise me.”

You find a song—one of those tracks that feels like golden hour, all soft strings and aching lyrics. It fills the space between you, tender and haunting.

You lean back, the glow of the dim lamp casting shadows that dance across your face. “Is this good?” you say softly, your voice almost lost in the music.

Ellie nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah. It’s… good.”

But it’s more than good. The song unfurls like a confession, the words scraping against something raw inside her. She steals a glance at you—how your eyes close briefly as you take in the music, how your lips curve in a faint smile. You look so at ease, like you were made to belong here, in this moment, in every moment.

Ellie shifts in her seat, her hands tightening into fists to steady herself. She feels the lyrics pressing against her ribs, carving out truths she’s not ready to face. Because the song isn’t just good—it’s devastating. It’s the kind of song that speaks to all the spaces she can’t seem to fill, to the way you move through life like sunlight while she stumbles in shadows.

“Ellie,” you say suddenly, pulling her out of her spiral.

“Yeah?” Her voice cracks, and she clears her throat, cursing herself.

You’re looking at her now, really looking, and it’s like you’re peeling her apart with your gaze. “You’re quiet tonight.”

She laughs, a brittle sound that doesn’t reach her eyes. 

The city has a rhythm all its own—one Ellie’s grown used to, even if she’s never quite felt in sync with it. The honking of car horns, the whoosh of passing buses, the endless shuffle of footsteps. But lately, it’s been different. She’s started noticing you in the quiet moments, the ones that are easy to miss.

It’s not the big gestures that catch her attention anymore; it’s the way you exist in the small, seemingly insignificant seconds of everyday life. Like that time at the street corner, when the light flickered red, and you stood there, headphones in, unaware of the world moving around you. You were humming under your breath, a song Ellie couldn’t quite place but knew it was a comfort to you—like a second skin.

She’d found herself standing next to you, unsure whether she should say something, anything, but instead, she just watched. The way your fingers tapped against the strap of your bag in rhythm with the music, the soft bounce of your head to the beat. For a moment, she felt like a ghost, just another face in the crowd, but still, she couldn’t help but be drawn to you.

Then there was the coffee shop—another one of those moments she found herself lost in you. You were in line, scrolling through your phone, your thumb brushing against the screen with a casual ease. Ellie had been behind you, unsure if she should say something, but when you turned around, offering a distracted smile, her heart did that thing it always did—flipped, then stilled.

She wanted to talk. Really talk. To ask you about the playlists you were always curating, to find out what made you tick, to learn the little things that made you, well, you. But every time, her words slipped away like sand through her fingers. Instead, she offered a half-smile and a joke about the barista’s terrible latte art, knowing full well it wasn’t what she really wanted to say.

And then there was the grocery store.

Ellie had bumped into you in the cereal aisle. You were standing there, staring at the shelves like it was the most critical decision you’d make all day, deliberating over the seemingly endless choices. You reached for a box of granola, then put it back, unsure, before grabbing another. Ellie watched from the end of the aisle, her hands awkwardly shoved into her pockets.

There was something undeniably human about the way you moved through the world—decisions, even small ones, seeming like they had weight, like they mattered.

“Decisions, decisions, huh?” Ellie said, her voice a little too loud, a little too forced. She winced internally as she stepped closer.

You looked up, meeting her gaze. There was that smile again—the one that seemed to say everything without saying a word. “Yeah, who knew cereal could be so complicated,” you joked, completely unaware of the mess Ellie’s heart was making of itself.

“Tell me about it,” Ellie said, but her tone was flat, lacking its usual sarcasm. “I’m sure that’s the most important choice of your day.”

You laughed, and Ellie’s chest tightened. That laugh—it was effortless, like you didn’t even need to try. And Ellie? She felt like she was always fighting for a breath when you were around.

“Maybe,” you said, grinning again. 

Ellie nodded, forcing a smile that felt too tight.

She stood there for a moment longer than she should’ve, trying to find the right words, trying to say something that mattered.

But it never came. 

Instead, she pushed her hands deeper into her pockets and said, “I’ll leave you to it.”

You gave her a small wave, turning back to the shelves, already lost in your thoughts again.

Ellie lingered, watching you as you browsed. The feeling of inadequacy crept back in, sharp and uncomfortable. She wasn’t like you—effortlessly warm, at ease in the world. Ellie felt like she was constantly out of place, like the rhythm of everything was always just a beat too fast for her.

And yet, she found herself hoping—quietly, desperately—that maybe, just maybe, you could see her.

The apartment is quiet when Ellie sits down at her desk, the soft glow of the desk lamp the only source of light in the otherwise dark room. It’s late—way too late—but this is when her mind finally starts to move, when the weight of the day lifts enough for her to put something down on paper.

Her guitar is resting against the wall, the strings untouched, the familiar wood an anchor she hasn’t quite let go of. She pulls it closer, the cool surface grounding her as her fingers hover above the paper. The lyrics are never fully formed, just fragments, jumbled thoughts that never seem to make sense.

She’s been doing this for weeks now—writing songs she knows she’ll never show you.

The first few nights, it was easy. Casual, quick words that reflected the surface of her thoughts: clever, biting, sarcastic. She could hide behind them, laugh it off. But somewhere along the way, it stopped being enough. The walls she’d built around herself started to feel fragile, like they were crumbling with each note, each line of music. And now, all she can do is write about what she can’t say aloud.

Ellie strums the first few chords, her fingers moving over the strings with an unspoken urgency. The song starts to take shape, almost without her permission.

"Waiting on a sign I'll never get,

Watching you move like you're born to forget.

I can't be the one that you choose,

But God, I wish I could be enough for you. "

Her eyes flick to the window, where the city lights flicker in the distance, an expanse of life she feels disconnected from. She wonders if you ever think of her when you’re alone, if you even notice her when she’s right there beside you. There’s a gnawing emptiness in her chest that she’s tried to fill with everything—sarcasm, jokes, distractions. But it’s never enough. Not when it comes to you.

The lyrics spill out in fits and starts, thoughts she’s afraid to say aloud—afraid they’ll sound as desperate as they feel. She wants to be someone you’d choose, someone who belongs in your world. But how can she ever be enough when she’s always on the outside, looking in?

She pauses, staring at the paper, the words staring back at her, bold and unfinished. There’s a quiet ache deep in her ribs. No matter how much she writes, it never feels like she’s captured the weight of it—the longing, the quiet ache of wanting to be seen, to be wanted. To be enough.

Ellie lets out a frustrated breath, pushing the paper aside and picking up her guitar, trying to tune out the buzzing in her head. She strums again, her fingers pressing hard against the strings.

"I can't say it, can't make you see me,

That the one you need could've been me."

But she can’t bring herself to believe it. Not really. She’s always been the one who hides, the one who cracks jokes when her heart’s about to break, the one who never quite fits. And you? You’re everything. 

Ellie stops playing, staring at the strings beneath her fingertips. The silence in the room presses in, thick and suffocating. She could write forever, fill pages with words you’ll never hear, but it wouldn’t change anything.

It wouldn’t make you choose her.

She stands up abruptly, leaving the song unfinished on the desk. The night stretches on, an unbroken cycle of words she can’t speak, feelings she can’t share. The ache doesn’t fade; it just deepens, growing in the spaces between what she wants and what she knows she can never have.

And so, Ellie writes. She writes because it’s the only way she knows how to hold onto something she can’t keep, a feeling she can’t let go of. Because in her songs, even if she never shows them to you, she can be someone she’s never allowed herself to be in real life—someone who’s enough. 

Even if it’s only for a moment.

The change doesn’t go unnoticed.

It starts small—subtle, almost imperceptible at first. But Jesse, ever the observant one, picks up on it immediately. He’s usually the one to joke around, to pull Ellie out of her shell with playful teasing. Tonight, though, he’s a little more pointed, a little more keen.

"You’ve been off lately," Jesse says, his grin mischievous as they both sit on the couch at Dina’s place. It’s just the three of them—another casual evening of hanging out, catching up, and talking about nothing. But Ellie can’t quite focus on the conversation. Not when her thoughts are elsewhere.

"Off?" Ellie raises an eyebrow, the word sounding almost foreign coming from him. “What do you mean?"

“Oh, come on,” he continues, leaning back casually, draping an arm over the back of the couch. “You’ve been distracted. You keep spacing out. You’ve been... off.”

Ellie shrugs, trying to play it cool, but inside she feels a gnawing discomfort. "I’m just tired. You know, life and…stuff."

But Jesse isn’t buying it. "Sure, sure," he says with a teasing smirk. "Life. But I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you staring off into space, looking like you’re ready to write a sad song or something.”

Ellie rolls her eyes, but there’s a flicker of something in her chest—something she doesn’t want to examine too closely. "You're imagining things."

Jesse just chuckles. "Whatever you say, El. Just don’t get too mopey on us, alright?"

Ellie forces a laugh, but the knot in her stomach tightens. She can feel it—she’s the one he’s been noticing. And it’s because of you. She’s spent too many nights thinking about you in those quiet moments, too many hours lost in the sound of your laughter.

The next time Ellie feels the weight of your presence in a room, it’s at a bar, another one of those casual nights out with Dina and Jesse. The three of them are sitting around a table, beers in hand, chatting over the din of the crowd. Ellie’s trying to keep her attention on the conversation, but her eyes keep wandering. They land on you across the room, laughing with a group of friends. There’s that smile again—the one that makes everything around her blur, that pulls her in like gravity.

She’s lost in it. She watches the way you laugh, head thrown back, eyes lighting up with something genuine. For a moment, Ellie’s breath catches in her throat, and she’s so caught up in it that she doesn’t even realize Dina has been watching her the entire time.

"You’re doing it again," Dina says, nudging Ellie’s elbow with a teasing grin. “Staring like you’re about to turn into a puddle.”

Ellie immediately looks away, her face flushing with embarrassment. “What?” she snaps, trying to cover the feeling, to shift the weight of her gaze onto something—anything—else.

"You’ve been doing it all night," Dina presses, her tone softer now, more knowing. "What’s going on with you, El?"

Ellie shakes her head quickly, too quickly, her mind scrambling to make an excuse. “Nothing. It’s nothing.” She tries to push it off, but Dina’s gaze doesn’t waver.

There’s a moment of tense silence before Dina speaks again, quieter this time, more serious. “Are you into them?”

Ellie’s stomach flips at the question, her heart stuttering in her chest. She can’t find her voice, not because she doesn’t want to answer, but because she can’t—she’s not even sure how to say it.

“You know, you can talk to me about this stuff,” Dina adds, her voice gentle. “I’m not gonna judge you.”

Ellie forces a half-smile, a weak attempt at brushing it off, but inside, the walls are crumbling. “It’s not a big deal,” she says, though she knows her tone betrays her. “I just—” She falters, shaking her head. “I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

Dina tilts her head, studying her carefully, and there’s something in her gaze that makes Ellie’s chest tighten even more. She knows her too well.

Before Ellie can speak, Dina nudges her shoulder playfully, her voice quieter now, almost teasing. “Well, if it’s not a big deal, then why are you so quiet? Why do you keep... watching them like it’ll be the last glance?”

Ellie stares down at the table, her hands suddenly feeling too clammy to hold the beer. She’s lost for words—again, just like every other time she’s tried to make sense of it. The feeling that has been growing inside her for weeks, something soft and dangerous that she can’t quite put into words.

“What’s the point?” Ellie finally mutters, her voice a little rough. She doesn’t look up, afraid of what she might see in Dina’s eyes. “I’d just screw it up. I always do.”

Dina’s silence is heavy, her brow furrowing as she watches Ellie carefully. After a long pause, she leans in, her tone soft but insistent. “Hey, don’t say that.”

Ellie bites her lip, trying to stop the words from tumbling out. She’s not ready to say them. Not ready to let anyone know how badly she wants this, how afraid she is of it.

Dina watches her for a moment longer before sighing softly. “You don’t know that for sure, El. You can’t.”

Ellie looks away, her gaze drifting back to you, but this time, she doesn’t just look at you—she’s watching, feeling the weight of every unspoken word, every hesitation she can’t bring herself to voice.

It happens in a blur—one of those moments when time seems to stretch, then snap back, leaving you disoriented, aware of a shift in the air that you can’t quite put into words. Ellie had never meant to overhear you, but it’s a quiet night at the coffee shop, the kind where the hum of conversation settles into the background, and everyone seems to be talking, half-whispering.

She’s sitting at a table by the window, pretending to focus on her laptop screen but barely getting any work done. The light from the streetlamp outside spills in, casting soft shadows across the room. And there you are—talking to a friend, a casual conversation. 

You’re talking about love.

"I just…I don’t want someone perfect" you’re saying, the words light but laced with meaning. Ellie hears the softness in your voice, the way it softens as you speak of wanting more than just surface-level attraction. "I don’t need them to have it all figured out. I want someone who’s trying. Someone who’s working on themselves—not just for me, but for themselves. Like, they want to grow, not because I expect them to, but because they want to be better. That'll be enough for me."

Ellie’s breath catches in her throat. The words land like a hammer against her chest. She’s frozen, a lump forming in her throat as she listens to the raw honesty in your voice, the vulnerability she hadn’t expected to hear.

She feels her stomach twist. You want someone who tries. Someone who works on themselves.

Someone who believes in themselves.

The truth cuts through her, sharper than she expected. It’s not just about you. 

It’s about her.

Ellie realizes in that moment that her fear of rejection—her constant second-guessing, her self-doubt—has nothing to do with you at all. It’s about her lack of belief in herself. She’s never felt good enough. Never felt like she could ever be someone who could truly be loved in the way you deserve. And the truth stings because in the end, she knows she’s the one standing in her own way.

When the conversation ends and you stand up to leave, Ellie feels like she’s suffocating, the air thick and heavy. She quickly gathers her things and walks out of the coffee shop, trying to shake the thoughts swirling inside her. But they won’t go away. They cling to her like a second skin.

Ellie’s feet hit the pavement hard as she rushes home, the weight of her thoughts pulling her down with every step. She’s been trying to hold herself together, trying to act like she doesn’t care, like it doesn’t matter that you’re out there, talking about love, about growth, about things Ellie’s never been able to give herself. But inside, everything is unraveling.

She bursts through the door of the apartment, kicking off her shoes and rushing into her room, her breath coming fast, her pulse pounding in her ears. She slams the door behind her, the room suddenly feeling too small, too close, the air thick with her racing thoughts.

Without thinking, Ellie starts to scatter her notebooks across the floor, pages flying in every direction—her songs, her words, her heart laid out in ink. She’s a mess. She’s always been a mess, but now it’s all she can see. The lyrics are too raw, too real, and she can’t hide from them anymore. She wants to burn them, to rip them up, to forget about everything she’s written. But she can’t.

Her fingers tremble as she grabs her phone, needing to talk to someone, to just vent—to someone who understands her, who will make her feel less crazy. She scrolls through her contacts without thinking, her thumb hovering over Dina’s name. Dina always knows what to say, always knows how to pull Ellie out of her spirals.

But then, in her haze, Ellie’s fingers slip. The screen flashes and she’s accidentally dialed your number.

For a moment, time seems to stop. Her heart skips a beat as she stares at the screen, her breath catching in her throat. It’s you. 

Her mind races—what if you pick up? What will she say? What if it’s awkward? What if you can tell that she’s barely holding it together? What if she can’t find the words, like she always does?

The phone continues to ring, each tone sounding like a drumbeat in her chest. Ellie’s mind flashes to a thousand scenarios—her jokes falling flat, you laughing at her awkwardness, or worse, you not answering at all.

The ringing continues.

Her thumb hovers over the screen again, unsure. Do I hang up? Do I wait? What if I just... leave it?

And then it happens—you answer.

"Hey," your voice is warm, light, and full of the softness Ellie’s come to recognize. But right now, it feels like it’s the only thing that’s real.

Ellie freezes, her heart racing in her chest. She can hear the quiet in your voice, the gentle curiosity, but it’s too much. Her throat tightens, words caught like a knot she can’t untangle.

"Ellie?"

Your voice is more persistent now, concerned, as if you can sense her hesitation. "Is everything okay?"

Ellie stares at the screen, her fingers numb against the phone. She doesn’t know how to answer, doesn’t know how to explain what’s going on in her head, in her heart.

She’s not ready. She’s never been ready.

Her thoughts scatter like her notebooks across the floor, a thousand things she wants to say but can’t. She swallows hard, trying to push the panic down, but it won’t go away.

"I'm fine," Ellie says finally, her voice hoarse and shaky. It’s not the truth, but it’s all she can muster. She doesn’t trust herself enough to say anything more, not when she’s about to fall apart.

The silence between you stretches, and for a moment, Ellie wonders if you can hear the way her breath hitches, the way her chest feels like it’s about to explode.

"You sure?" you ask gently, the concern still laced in your tone.

Ellie clenches her fists around the phone, the tension building in her chest, the words bubbling up. You don’t understand. You don’t know.

The weight of her fear presses in on her again, and she knows this moment—this one fragile thread of connection—is slipping away.

"I... yeah. I’m fine," Ellie repeats, more firmly this time, but it doesn’t feel convincing.

You don’t press her further, thankfully. The silence that follows feels like a heavy weight, but Ellie can’t seem to break it. Not this time. Not when she’s so close to falling apart.

"I’ll... talk to you later," Ellie says quickly, her voice barely above a whisper. She’s already pulling the phone away, her thumb hovering over the red button to end the call, feeling the distance between you growing even though you’re right there, so close, but never quite close enough.

"Okay," you reply softly, a trace of hesitation in your voice. "Take care, Ellie."

The words hang in the air, and Ellie’s hand shakes as she finally ends the call. She presses the phone against her forehead, feeling the heat of her skin against the cool glass, the weight of everything she hasn’t said crashing over her.

What the hell did she just do?

The following afternoon, Ellie finds herself on the corner of the street again, just like before. 

The air is thick with tension, and her heartbeat is louder than the passing cars. She's standing on one side of the crosswalk, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her jacket, looking down at her shoes as the world rushes around her. Her thoughts are still tangled from the phone call last night, the weight of it pulling her down.

And then she sees you.

You’re standing at the opposite corner, eyes focused ahead, your headphones in like always. There’s a soft smile on your face, but Ellie knows it’s not for her. It never is, and that’s the hardest part. You don’t notice her yet, but Ellie can’t seem to look away. You’re there, the same as always, and everything about you feels like it belongs—like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

The light changes, and people begin to move, heading in opposite directions, but Ellie stays frozen, watching as you take the first step onto the crosswalk, the sound of your shoes tapping against the pavement ringing in her ears. She takes a shallow breath, eyes flickering from the sidewalk to your figure, noticing the way you shift.

For a moment, she thinks about the phone call—the words she could’ve said, the things she almost let slip. The regret feels sharp now, more real than it ever did in the moment. She shouldn’t have hung up, shouldn’t have closed the door on the conversation. She knows that. But it felt like too much. Too soon.

And here you are, walking toward her, and she feels like she’s suffocating in the space between you.

You look up, and for a split second, your eyes meet across the street. It’s a fleeting moment, but everything in Ellie stops—her heart, her thoughts, even the noise around her. For a heartbeat, it’s just the two of you. She feels it—the pull. The connection. The weight of everything unspoken hanging between the gap of the crosswalk.

But then the moment’s gone, and you’re walking toward her, close enough now that Ellie can hear the faint melody of the song drifting from your headphones. Her breath catches in her throat, the nerves crawling up her spine as she forces her legs to move.

You pass each other without saying a word, the sidewalk bustling around the both of you, the space between you still too wide, too far for Ellie to reach. She could say something, anything. She could finally make her move, make her voice heard, but instead, she keeps walking, her pace quickening as she tries to outrun the feeling in her chest.

But just before you’re out of earshot, she hears it—a soft laugh, almost to yourself. It’s a sound that makes her freeze in her tracks.

“Is it always this hard?” you ask, more to yourself than her, but the words hang in the air like a question Ellie’s never been able to answer.

It hits her like a wave. That question—Is it always this hard?—isn’t about this moment, this crosswalk, this distance between you. It’s about everything. About the vulnerability both of you have been avoiding. It’s about how hard it is to open up, to make a connection, to take that first step toward something real. The struggle isn’t just Ellie's; it’s yours, too.

She stands there for a second, frozen, her heart pounding in her ears. The words hang between ellie like an invitation—a crack in the armor of both of your guarded hearts. And Ellie realizes, maybe for the first time, that the difficulty isn’t about the perfect words or the perfect timing. It’s about letting go of the fear. The fear of being rejected, of not being enough. The fear that keeps both of you standing on opposite sides of the street.

Ellie doesn’t stop. Doesn’t turn around. But the weight of it lingers, pulling at her chest.

She keeps walking.

[chompb]

AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES HEADCANONS

a/n: was thinking about being roommates with ellie and realised i NEED to write it down [recent work]

tw: i mean, it's poor fluff, mention of drinking, making out

roommate!ellie who is looking for a new roommate after her last one moved out to live with their partner. dina, ever the matchmaker, gives ellie your number, telling her you're perfect for the spot since you're laid-back, responsible, and (most importantly) not annoying.

roommate!ellie who rolled her eyes when dina mention you're into girls. "why does this matter?", she'd ask in an irritated tone but secretly thinks it’s awesome—less chance of awkwardness and more chance for shared queer culture jokes (and subtle flirting, though she'd never admit it).

roommate!ellie who was very nervous when dina invited you to a movie night together for you to meet her before moving in. she keeps overthinking—“what if she hates my movie choices? what if she thinks I’m a slob?” she even cleans the living room twice, just in case.

roommate!ellie who tries to act chill during the movie night but ends up awkwardly offering you snacks every five minutes to fill the silence ignoring dina's chuckles. when you compliment her vintage movie poster collection, she stumbles over her words and just mumbles, “yeah, uh, I guess they’re cool.”

roommate!ellie who turns out to be the perfect mix of chill and chaotic. she’ll let you borrow her clothes, but only if you ask first, because “boundaries, dude.” however, she’s also the type to borrow your hoodie without asking, especially if it smells like your perfume but she says it's just comfy.

roommate!ellie who can’t stop herself from smiling when she sees you curled up on the couch with her t-shirt with band picture on, binge-watching something ridiculous. she teases you about stealing her clothes but secretly loves it.

roommate!ellie who has an entire bookshelf filled with graphic novels, old paperbacks, and her sketchbooks when you have one with books and diaries. she’s shy about showing you her sketches at first, but eventually, she leaves one out for you to find—a drawing of you laughing during one of your late-night conversations. same about you: at first you refused to let her read your annotated copy of your favourite childhood book but then lent her it.

roommate!ellie who blasts her guitar late at night, apologizes profusely for it, then invites you to listen instead of going to bed. she’ll sheepishly admit she’s working on a new song but won’t look you in the eye when you compliment her voice.

roommate!ellie who invites you to play video games with her but always lets you win because she loves hearing you gloat about how “you’re the superior gamer.”

roommate!ellie who shake her head when dina and jessie hinting that she probably likes you. "that would be too cliché," she would say.

roommate!ellie who insists on cooking dinner together once a week. it’s usually something simple like pasta or tacos, but she’ll make it competitive, declaring herself “the gordon ramsay of roommates” when her side of the meal turns out better.

roommate!ellie who came up with the idea of making fridays your guys unofficial roommate day. she decides to surprise you one friday with homemade pizza, her guitar, and a makeshift dance floor in the living room. she twirls you around, singing the song off-key but with so much enthusiasm that you can’t help but laugh.

roommate!ellie who always finds little excuses to be near you—helping you hang posters, sitting close during movie nights, or brushing your hair out of your face when you’re deep in thought. when you call her out on it, she just shrugs and smirks. “what? i’m a tactile person.”

roommate!ellie who secretly learns how to bake your favorite dessert just to surprise you on a bad day. she’ll act casual about it, saying, “It’s no big deal,” but blushed when you tell her it’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for you and got embarrassed when you started crying with happiness.

roommate!ellie who gets oddly protective of you when you’re upset. she’ll sit with you on the couch, offering her shoulder and awkwardly patting your back, mumbling, “i’m not great at this comforting stuff, but I’m here, okay?”

roommate!ellie who has a polaroid camera that she uses to document your time as roommates. she has a growing collection of photos: you holding her cat, you mid-laugh during a late-night chat, you asleep on the couch with her hoodie on. one night, you stumble upon a stack of these pictures and realize how much she’s been cherishing these little moments but was too embarrassed to tell her you saw it.

dina who is the ultimate instigator, constantly pointing out how much time you and ellie spend together. “roommates? sure. more like a domestic partnership.” ellie always rolls her eyes but can’t help the blush creeping up her neck.

dina and jessie who smirked when you both show up late to group hangouts but actually set you up for couple-y questions during truth or dare. “ellie, would you ever kiss your roommate?” jesse asks with a mischievous grin, and ellie glares at him, muttering, “you’re the worst.”

roommate!ellie who thought a lot after that night (thanks to jessie and dina) and almost confesses during a deep, late-night conversation. you’re lying on the couch, sharing a blanket, and she says, “I feel like... I don’t know. I don’t deserve how good you are to me.” you tease her about being sappy, and she loses her nerve.

roommate!ellie who spends the rest of the night sulking, when she saw one of your friends flirts with you during a party. when you finally ask what’s wrong, she blurts out, “I don’t want to watch someone else get what I—what we could have.”

roommate!ellie who offers some wine to relax after a stressful week full of exams.

roommate!ellie with whom you playing cards while being tipsy and who leans in to grab the deck from your hands, and you both freeze when her face is way too close to yours.

roommate!ellie who stares at you, her lips parting slightly, and before you can think, you lean in and kiss her. It’s short and sweet, but it lingers in the air like an unspoken promise.

roommate!ellie who's eyes widen, and she blurts out, “was that...?” while looking away, but you were too fed up about it so cut her off, laughing nervously. “yeah. It was.” after a moment, she smirks, “wanna do it again?” and you simply nodded kissing her one more time — now passionately, like your life depends on it.

roommate!ellie who ends up making out with you next 20 minutes before you two fall asleep

roommate!ellie who wakes up the next morning with her head still spinning from the kiss(es) you shared the night before. She finds you in the kitchen, making coffee like nothing happened. ellie nervously clears her throat, scratching the back of her neck. “so, uh... about last night—”

you cut her off again, smirking over your mug. “what about it?”

ellie shifts awkwardly before finally blurting out, “I liked it. like... a lot. and I don’t want it to just be a one-time thing.”

you step closer, setting your coffee down and tilting your head at her. “good. because I liked it too.”

[chompb]

where are the sub!ellie fanfics people??? my baby looks like she is capable of killing you, but she would call you a dumb face and still feel bad about it cmonnnn,, she's a sweetheart not a toxic weed smoker that would call you a slut and degrade you for talking to other people

i get the kinks, respect them, but PLEASE i need her pleading, begging and being absolutely awkward as we know her, getting excited and delusional for a simple look, overthinking almost every interaction, going red in the face from the touch of her hands w another girl,,, i mean CMONNNN SHE'S JUST A BABY😞