elliecore4eva

[elliecore4eva]

i’m so invested

Redline, and...GO!- B.E

Synopsis: You and your ex-girlfriend are illegal car racers. Your breakup wasn't very amicable due to both of your toxicity, so you've avoided competing with each other. But apparently fate has other plans for you.

Pair: B.e×F!Reader

Words: 2k maybe

Warnings: drunk people

Style: Fanfic | Imagine | Headcanons

Part: part 1 ⇽ part 2 ⇽part 3 ⇽ part 4 ⇽

@foreverinyourdreamstonight

The Ravencar bar was barely holding together—both literally and metaphorically. The lights above the bar flickered like they were powered by bad intentions, the jukebox was stuck between tracks, and the Friday night crowd had started pouring in like a tidal wave of impatience.

You were already regretting every life decision that led you here.

“I’m telling you,” Billie growled as she struggled to open a bottle of cider with a rusted opener, “Marlene guilt-tripped me with that ‘remember when I used to feed you?’ crap. Like I asked her to babysit my twelve-year-old ass.”

You barely glanced up as you shoved menus at two customers. “She fed you?”

“She gave me cereal once and told me not to die.” Billie popped the cap off with a satisfying clink and smirked. “It’s practically motherhood.”

You rolled your eyes, snatched the bottle from her, and placed it on the tray for table seven.

Meanwhile, customers were getting louder. The regulars shouted across the bar like they’d never heard of indoor voices, someone was already drunk enough to sing along with the jukebox, and one guy at the end of the counter kept trying to order shots like he was at a club.

"Can I get three of the firebomb things?" he asked, slurring slightly.

"Firebombs don’t exist," you replied flatly.

“They do if you believe in them,” he insisted with a goofy grin.

You stared. “...This isn't Tinkerbell, bro. Pick a drink that doesn’t start a lawsuit.”

Behind you, Billie laughed so hard she choked on a peanut. “Let me guess—table four?”

“Yup.”

“Trash.”

You spun around to grab clean glasses, just as the front door creaked open again.

And of course, there she was.

Alice.

Leather jacket, glossy lip balm, and that annoyingly confident walk like she owned every room she stepped into. You immediately braced for impact.

“Hey, hot stuff,” Alice grinned, leaning over the counter and giving you a wink. “You look stressed. Wanna ditch this place and grab food later?”

You arched an eyebrow, already amused. “Food? It’s been fifteen minutes since I watched you eat two tacos and complain they were too spicy.”

“They were spicy. My tongue still hurts.”

You handed her a napkin. “Use this for your ego.”

Alice laughed, unbothered. “C’mon, just one smile?”

You gave her a dramatic sigh, leaned in slightly… and grinned before shooing her away with a rag. “Go sit down before I charge you for flirting.”

“Worth it,” she said, finally heading toward a table.

Billie was watching the whole thing from the side of the bar, her jaw working like she was chewing on something she didn’t like.

“She’s real subtle,” Billie muttered.

You gave her a look. “And you’re a master of grace and restraint?”

“Touché.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur of spilled drinks, shouted orders, and bickering about who had to mop. But eventually, the crowd thinned. People paid tabs and stumbled out with full stomachs and foggy heads, the bar slowly falling into quiet.

You and Billie stood behind the counter like survivors of a small war.

“Well…” you exhaled, stretching your arms, “we didn’t burn it down.”

“Yet,” Billie added, already grabbing a half-empty bottle of rum from beneath the counter. “But the night is young.”

You snorted. “Put that back.”

She ignored you and poured two shots, sliding one toward you with her usual smugness. “Drink it or cry. Your choice.”

You hesitated for half a second, then knocked it back in one go. The burn was sharp, cheap, and oddly satisfying.

Billie raised her brows. “Look at you. Getting soft.”

You scoffed. “I let you live, didn’t I? That’s the softest I’ll ever get.”

She leaned on the counter, arms folded, that damn knowing look on her face. “Still can’t believe Alice is your type.”

You leaned back, smirking. “I didn’t say she was. I said she’s not not my type.”

Billie blinked. “...That sentence gave me brain damage.”

You laughed—genuinely this time—and stole another shot from the bottle.

The jukebox whirred back to life on its own, playing some slow 90s rock song that didn’t match the mood at all. You both looked at it, then back at each other, then simultaneously rolled your eyes.

A rare moment of mutual understanding.

No heat. No tenderness. Just… weird peace.

Then Billie ruined it.

“You’re still a terrible bartender,” she said, reaching for the bottle again.

You grinned. “And you still drive like a cracked-out raccoon.”

Billie raised her shot in a mock toast. “To survival.”

You clinked your glass against hers. “To chaos.”

Billie smirked. “Finally, something we agree on.”

One shot turned into two. Two turned into four. At some point, you lost count.

The rum was hitting hard now, numbing your throat and smoothing out the edges of your thoughts. The bar lights dimmed even further as the jukebox cycled through slow grunge songs, and the world around you shrank to just you and Billie behind the counter, alone with your past and whatever this blurry, stupid present was.

You leaned over the bar, your cheek pressed against the cool wood as you tried not to laugh at Billie failing to open another bag of pretzels. “Are you seriously losing a fight to snacks?”

“It’s childproofed. I’m not a child,” she grunted, finally ripping it open—only for the pretzels to explode everywhere. “Well. That’s just gravity being a little bitch.”

You burst out laughing, snorting as you tried to speak. “You’re such an idiot.”

“You’re the idiot,” Billie fired back, grabbing a pretzel off the floor and tossing it at you. It hit your shoulder and bounced off harmlessly.

“Oh my god, are we five now?”

Billie narrowed her eyes, deadly serious. “If we were five, I’d be the cooler five-year-old. You’d be the weird one who eats glue.”

You gasped dramatically. “Excuse you—I was very popular in kindergarten.”

“I bet,” she said, rolling her eyes. “With the imaginary friends.”

You shoved her arm playfully. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

It was stupid. So stupid. But you were both laughing now—loud, uncontrollable, drunk laughter that echoed in the empty bar. The kind of laughter that left your face hurting and your head spinning. It felt good. It felt like back then, before everything went sideways. You weren’t ready to admit that out loud.

Billie eventually slumped onto the booth seat behind the counter, stretching her legs out like a gremlin queen, and you, in your drunken genius, flopped down beside her, your head falling back against the cushion with a sigh.

“God, I missed drinking like this,” you muttered, eyes half-lidded.

“I missed being this drunk without someone crying or punching me,” Billie added, lifting the bottle in a lazy salute.

Silence fell for a beat.

Then Billie looked at you sideways, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You get clingy when you’re drunk.”

You scoffed. “I do not.”

“You’re literally leaning against me right now.”

You looked down. Okay, yeah. You had kinda slumped halfway across her side of the booth, your shoulder resting against hers.

“I’m tired,” you said defensively.

“And clingy,” she teased, nudging you with her knee.

“Do you ever shut up?”

“Nope.” She paused, then added in a mock-whisper, “Also, your hair smells really nice.”

You blinked. “...Did you just sniff me?”

“Nope,” she repeated, clearly lying.

You pushed her away, and she just cackled like a gremlin before grabbing you in a sudden, exaggerated side-hug that pulled you halfway into her lap.

“Ugh! You smell like cheap rum and poor decisions!” you yelped.

“And you smell like sass and cherry lip balm.” Billie grinned, her voice softening without warning. “You always wore that one. Still do.”

You froze.

Just for a second.

But then you laughed, leaning your head back against her shoulder, heart hammering in ways you really didn’t want to think about right now. “You’re such a menace.”

Billie rested her chin on your head, her voice dropping a little. “Yeah. But I’m your menace, right?”

You raised your head slowly to look at her.

Your face was only inches from hers. Her expression unreadable—half smug, half something else. Something quieter.

“I’m not drunk enough for that line,” you murmured.

She smirked. “Yet here you are. Still not pulling away.”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t, really. Because yeah… she was right. But you weren’t about to admit that, either.

Instead, you grabbed the pretzels from earlier and poured what was left of the bag on her lap.

“Really?” Billie groaned, brushing them off.

“That’s what you get for sniffing me, weirdo.”

She chuckled, brushing pretzels from your lap too—her fingers lingering for just a second longer than they should.

Neither of you said anything.

Outside, the village streets were quiet.

Inside, two idiots sat tangled together in the corner booth of a half-broken bar, just drunk enough to forget the world hated them like this.

And maybe, just maybe, they didn’t care.

“Okay, that’s enough. Let’s go home,” you announced, dragging yourself upright and adjusting your clothes like you were totally composed—even though the room was starting to gently spin. You made your way around the counter, using it as support, hand gliding along the wood like it was a lifeline.

“If you can walk, I’m fine,” Billie slurred from her half-sprawled position on the booth bench. Her head lolled back lazily as she watched you wobble with a crooked grin. “You walk like a newborn deer.”

You glared at her over your shoulder. “I’m fine.”

“Sure,” Billie muttered, amused, watching you approach the bar’s main door like it was a final boss battle.

You reached it with far too much pride—only to slam into a table leg you didn’t see. Your foot caught in the bottom of a chair, and with an ungraceful thud, you hit the floor, landing hard on your knees.

“Shit—!”

Billie burst out laughing so hard she nearly rolled off the booth. “You—Oh my god, did you just body-slam the furniture?”

You groaned, both from pain and humiliation, face buried in your arms on the sticky wooden floor. “I hate everything.”

Still laughing, Billie stumbled up, wobbled slightly, then carefully made her way over to you. “Come on, lightweight,” she muttered with a fondness she probably didn’t intend to show, crouching beside you. “You just picked a fight with a chair and lost.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled into your sleeve.

Billie reached under your arm and helped you sit up, then pulled you fully to your feet—albeit slowly and with both of you swaying like idiots.

But when her hands settled on your waist to steady you, she didn’t pull away right away. And she didn’t make a joke this time.

You looked up at her, breathing a little hard from the fall. Billie’s face was closer than you expected. And for a second, everything tilted in a way that had nothing to do with alcohol.

Her brows furrowed slightly, like something had sobered in her brain for a moment. “You okay?”

You nodded, but your voice came out softer than you meant. “Yeah.”

Billie didn’t say anything right away. She just kept her hand on your back, guiding you gently toward the door this time. “You’re not walking home like that,” she said after a beat, voice low and quieter than before. “I’ll take you.”

You blinked. “Aren’t you just as drunk?”

She scoffed. “I’m drunk, not dead. I drive better drunk than most people do sober.”

“Not reassuring.”

“Shut up. I’ll walk you if I have to.”

You snorted at the idea of both of you crawling home together like gremlins. But Billie stayed close, holding your arm like she was your reluctant babysitter. She didn’t let you fall again—not even once. At one point, when your knees gave a little, she actually steadied you with both arms around you, muttering something like “Jesus, you’re helpless.”

But she didn’t let go.

Not until you were out in the cool night air, the bar door locked behind you, her hand still resting lightly on your shoulder, like she wasn’t ready to let that go yet either.

Neither of you said anything as you started walking down the dark, quiet village street—still drunk, still laughing occasionally—but something in Billie’s expression had shifted.

Maybe she was just sobering up.

Or maybe she was remembering that no matter how hard she tried to play it cool... when it came to you, she always ended up staying a little longer, caring a little more, and walking a little slower—just to make sure you didn’t fall again.

The night air hit you like a slap—cold, crisp, and a little too sobering for comfort.

You groaned, wrapping your arms around yourself as you stumbled down the dimly lit street. “God, it’s freezing. Why didn’t I bring a jacket?”

“Because you thought tequila could warm your soul,” Billie said beside you, hands stuffed into her oversized hoodie, walking just a step behind so she could catch you if you tipped again.

You turned and walked backward for a second, wobbling but managing to stay upright. “That’s poetic, coming from the girl who thought whiskey was dinner.”

“Whiskey was dinner. And dessert. And now it’s guilt.” She pointed at her stomach. “I think my organs are staging a coup.”

You snorted, turning forward again, still a little dizzy. “You’re such a dumbass.”

“I’m your dumbass,” Billie said without thinking—and then quickly added, “I mean, not your dumbass. Just... in general. A dumbass that exists near you sometimes.”

You raised a brow, your smirk slow and wicked. “Freudian slip, much?”

“Shut up,” she muttered, but the blush on her cheeks wasn’t from the cold.

You both walked in silence for a moment, the sound of your shoes scraping the gravel road the only thing filling the quiet.

“Remember when we used to sneak out after races and sit on the roof of the garage?” you said suddenly. “Drink cheap beer and talk shit about people?”

Billie laughed through her nose. “Yeah. You always made me do the climbing. And you dropped the chips that one time.”

“They were your chips,” you defended, grinning. “Besides, gravity’s a bitch.”

“You’re a bitch,” Billie said casually, bumping your shoulder.

You bumped her back harder. “You love it.”

She didn’t respond to that. Just chuckled and looked away, hands still deep in her pockets.

When you tripped on a crack in the pavement, Billie’s arm automatically flew out to catch you again, steadying you with a hand on your waist.

“Okay, okay, I’m putting you on a leash next time,” she said.

You giggled, leaning into her. “Kinky.”

“God,” she groaned, exasperated but smiling, “you’re the worst drunk.”

“You like me like this,” you muttered, resting your head briefly on her shoulder as you walked.

She stiffened for half a second, then relaxed. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“You literally said earlier you’d carry me home if you had to.”

“I say a lot of things when I’m drunk. Doesn’t mean I mean them.”

You looked up at her, eyes slightly glassy. “Do you mean that?”

Billie met your gaze, and for a second, she looked like she might actually say something real. But then she smirked.

“I mean... maybe I’d just leave you on someone’s porch. Let them figure out what to do with you.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing again. “You’re such a coward.”

“I’m practical,” she replied, nudging you with her shoulder again. “Cowards don’t catch girls falling off bar tables.”

You gave her a side glance. “You mean chairs.”

“Whatever. Point is—be grateful.”

You fell into another fit of laughter, clinging to her sleeve now as you both turned down the last street before home. The village was quiet at night, the kind of quiet that made you feel like kids again—like you could get away with anything, and no one would notice.

At the front gate of the house, you both stopped.

Billie looked at you for a second too long.

Then she said, quieter, “You sure you’re okay?”

You nodded. “I’m fine.”

She tilted her head. “No chair-related injuries?”

“Just a bruised ego.”

Billie smiled at that. “Well, can’t fix that. Permanent damage.”

You reached over and flicked her forehead lightly. “Jackass.”

She grinned, but didn’t move away.

Neither of you did.

And maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the fact that the night felt like a thousand others you used to live together—but for a moment, standing outside the door to the life you’d both built and broken in different ways, it didn’t feel like enemies.

Just something old. Something familiar. Something that used to be good.

“Go inside before you fall into the bush,” Billie said softly.

“Fine,” you muttered, but with a crooked grin.

You opened the door, stepping in, then paused. “You coming in or what?”

Billie shrugged. “I’ll stay out a bit. Sober up.”

You nodded. “Suit yourself.”

But as you closed the door behind you, her voice came through the crack:

“Hey, Y/N.”

You stopped.

“Try not to fall down any more furniture tomorrow.”

You smiled to yourself without answering.

You stumbled through the dark hallway, kicking your shoes off lazily and leaving them somewhere near the wall. The house was quiet, the kind of quiet that only existed in that in-between hour where sleep was either a blessing or a punishment.

Your body felt warm, the alcohol still buzzing under your skin, but it wasn’t enough to keep your mind from replaying every look Billie had given you on the walk home. Every stupid smile. Every word laced with something too sharp to be just friendly, but too soft to be war.

You reached your room and flopped face-first onto your bed, groaning at the spinning ceiling. The sheets were cool against your cheek, and your body instantly started to relax. But your hand instinctively went to your neck, brushing over the necklace hidden beneath your shirt.

That same damn necklace.

You didn’t even realize you’d fallen asleep until—

A chainsaw was roaring in your skull.

You groaned, turning over, arm flopping dramatically off the side of the bed as your eyes squinted at the brutal sunlight slipping through the half-closed curtains.

Your throat burned like hell. That sore throat from yesterday had evolved into full-blown regret.

“Ughhhh.”

The groan echoed through the room—and maybe the street too. Your head throbbed with every movement, and your stomach felt like it was holding a protest.

You forced yourself to sit up, wincing at the movement. You looked like hell. Hair all over the place, mascara smudged from the night before, a hickey suspiciously forming on your collarbone—no, wait. Was that a bruise from the chair incident?

You stumbled into the kitchen, hoping for coffee but finding only Billie.

Leaning against the counter.

Already dressed. Already sipping from a mug.

Smirking.

“Morning, sunshine.”

You stopped dead in your tracks. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Decided not to sleep in the alley after all. You’re welcome.”

You groaned and opened the fridge, squinting at the milk like it had personally offended you. “I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

“Technically, you almost did. Last night. Remember?”

“Don’t start.”

Billie laughed, the sound way too loud for your fragile brain. “You fell twice, made out with a bottle of tequila, threatened to fight a barstool—”

“I won that fight,” you said, slamming the fridge shut and turning toward her with a lazy glare. “Where’s the coffee?”

She lifted her mug and took a slow sip.

You stared. “You didn’t make extra?”

“I did.” She gestured to the full pot on the counter. “But watching you suffer was fun.”

You grunted, dragging yourself over to pour a cup. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You sipped. Almost spit it out. “What is this? Motor oil?”

“Strong coffee. You’re welcome.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, even as your body started to appreciate the caffeine. Billie sat on one of the stools, spinning it slightly with one foot, looking way too smug for someone who also drank half the bar with you last night.

“How are you not dead?” you asked, slumping against the counter beside her.

“I’m hungover. I just look cooler doing it.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes, but the smile tugged at your lips before you could fight it.

Then silence crept in—lazy, familiar, heavy.

“You were cuddly last night,” Billie said suddenly, taking another sip.

You froze. “No, I wasn’t.”

She leaned in slightly. “You crawled into my lap behind the bar and called me a ‘beautiful menace.’”

Your face turned red instantly. “Lies.”

“I wish I was lying. You also tried to do the worm on the floor.”

“I hate you.”

“You already said that.”

“I mean it now.”

Billie tilted her head, that smirk fading into something more thoughtful. “You really don’t remember?”

You looked down at your mug. “Some of it.”

“Some of it was fun.”

You didn’t reply. You didn’t have a reply.

And before it could get heavy again, the door burst open.

Benny.

In full drama-queen mode.

“Oh my God, you two look like shit!” she announced, walking in with a grocery bag. “And the bar? Looked like it hosted a wedding for raccoons!”

You groaned. Billie laughed.

“I’m making pancakes. Neither of you are allowed to die before eating,” Benny added, shoving you both aside to take over the kitchen.

You and Billie looked at each other—hungover, bruised, still covered in unresolved tension.

And you realized: Benny's little smile, and her knowing look.

"What is she doing here?" Benny asked in a low voice as she pressed her shoulder against yours.

"I don't know, okay? Now shut up!" You replied, and Benny smirked.

im in love with them, so sorry

luv you, xoxo

[elliecore4eva]

but i’m a cheerleader ! chapter i. don't be a dick

soccer player!ellie x cheerleader!reader

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

series masterlist

if i can’t have paloma sandoval and tucker pillsbury as besties she can okay

taglist !

@vahnilla @twopeoplee @elliecoochieeater @iheartclairo66 @smaugayra @thankynext @mascspleasegetmepregnant @machetegirl109

[elliecore4eva]

HOUSE OF BALLOONS – the weekend ⌇stalker!ellie x fem!reader

but you belong to me...?

warnings ⌇word count  2.9 SMUT, darker themes like stalking/manipulation (R is aware of/consents to the stalking, Ellie comes to realize this. Everything is consensual), egotistical reader, watched masturbation, mention of alcohol, top!ellie, bottom!reader, ellie is packing, strap in v (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), impact play (spanking), not proofread, THIS IS ALL PURELY FICTIONAL (I DO NOT CONDONE THIS)

Everywhere you went, it lingered.

 In the quiet moments, in the spaces you thought were your own. Walking through your apartment in nothing but your nightgown. Taking a sip of your drink at the park, letting the world fade around you. Chatting with a coworker just before you clock out. Running on the treadmill in the dim light of the gym. Shopping for clothes in the local boutiques. Everywhere.

Every sound you made, they caught.

 The rustle of sheets as you shifted in bed, restless in your sleep. The laughter shared over drinks with friends at a bar. The tired sigh that escaped after a long day. The songs you chose to fill the silence.

Every sound, every movement, every glance you cast—there, fitted in each corner of your world, you felt it. Them.

It started one random day, a few months ago. This strange sensation that you were being watched. But instead of the usual paranoia or fear most would feel, it sparked something else in you—excitement. The idea that someone, somewhere, was so utterly captivated by you stirred a deep, unexpected longing. You craved this kind of attention, this unspoken admiration. It wasn’t just the thought of being seen—it was the pull of being desired, of knowing someone out there was drawn to you in ways you’d never known before. Instead of reporting, you encouraged it. Keeping it to yourself like some little secret, a guilty pleasure. 

But all of this was just that–a suspicion, your intuition. You weren’t sure of your little stalker till one day you came back from work and noticed a note on your bathroom mirror. It was thrilling in the best of ways. You walked to it with joy, peeling the sticky note off. 

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” 

Your heart leaps with excitement as the realization hits: today marks the moment you’ve confirmed it. Your little stalker, the one who had been nothing more than a whisper in your mind, is real. April 1, 2025. They’d slipped into your home while you were gone, leaving a note behind. How thrilling, how intoxicating this game has become.

A week later, another note appears—this time carefully placed on your closet door.

"I love the way those jeans fit you."

You wear those jeans more often now. Some mornings, you even take your time getting them on, relishing the struggle, the thought that they might be watching through the windows. You couldn’t help but grow more curious about your stalker, your fascination deepening with each passing day. So, the following Monday, you decided to make a move—something small, a test, but bold enough to feel like you were engaging in this strange, electrifying game. You wrote a note in your room, carefully placed where you knew it would be seen, and it simply asked,

“What’s your name?”

That evening, after work, you rushed into your room, heart pounding with excitement. Could it be? Would they respond? And sure enough, there it was. On your bed, delicately laid on a square piece of paper, the name written in a messy but neat (...?) handwriting: 

"Ellie."

Ellie. You thought it must be a girl—her name sounded like the kind of name that belonged to someone soft, someone mysterious. But you weren’t about to assume too quickly. There was still so much you didn’t know.

From that point on, the dynamic shifted. You both started to break the barrier, communicating through notes that became more personal, more intimate with each exchange. What began as a simple back-and-forth of curiosity soon blossomed into something deeper, something more thrilling. The sticky notes were no longer enough. They transformed into carefully folded letters, placed on your desk, each one more daring than the last.

And as the days passed, the notes evolved. Each word, each line, seemed to carry with it a charge—like the touch of someone standing just behind you, their breath warm on your neck. Every note felt like a secret shared between just the two of you.

Ellie was no longer just a name. She was a presence. And you were both locked in this strange, magnetic dance, each note exchanged pulling you closer to a truth you weren't sure you wanted to uncover, but couldn't resist.

You had to hide it all. Hide her. The notes, the letters, the recording machines in your room (you’ve yet to find, but you don’t want your friends to find them), the little pieces of your secret world that only you and Ellie shared. Whenever your friends came over, you’d carefully tuck the evidence away, sliding the notes under your bed like they were something shameful, though in reality, they were everything you craved. You kept your lips sealed, even though part of you wanted to shout it from the rooftops. You wanted to tell someone—anyone—about Ellie, about the intoxicating thrill of it all. But you knew better. If you spoke up, if you let the truth slip, it would spiral into something you couldn’t control. A police investigation. Suspicion. Judgment.

You knew how your friends, your family, your coworkers would react. They’d be horrified, scared for you, maybe even angry. They’d see it as a violation, a crossing of boundaries that needed to be stopped immediately. But you didn’t see it that way. For you, it was an obsession, a craving you couldn’t ignore. Ellie’s attention was everything you ever wanted—desired, even.

You didn’t care about the dangers or the unknowns. You didn’t care about the risks or the potential consequences. All you cared about was the rush, the electric feeling that came every time you found a new note, every time you imagined her watching. You weren’t worried about her intentions—why should you be? As long as she kept looking, kept writing, kept feeding you the attention you’d always yearned for, you felt... alive.

A few days ago you had come home from work with a burn between your thighs, a need. While laid underneath your satin sheets, you touched yourself. Head thrown back, eyes shut tight in focus and bliss. You hoped she was watching. You had wanted her to see you, to watch this show you’re putting on. Each drag of your fingers over your clit had you gasping into the cool air. You shivered suddenly, goosebumps showing on your skin as your hair stood straight up. No, not because of the cold air–because of her, Ellie. You knew she was watching. 

You knew for sure she was watching when a picture of you touching yourself that night was sent to your work PO in a basic, white envelope. As fast as you could you had to hide the photo and slip it back in the envelope–but in the stillness of your room, you got to stare at it. Seeing as she knew pretty much everything about you, you weren’t surprised when you loved the photo. The angle, the lighting–it showed her love of you, and how she wanted you to like it as well. 

Despite all of it, despite the rush, you grew tired. The envelopes with pictures—carefully chosen snapshots that seemed to capture the essence of your every movement—the sneaking into your house when you weren’t home to leave another note, the constant feeling of her presence, watching, lurking. It was no longer satisfying, no longer thrilling.

What once felt like an exhilarating game began to feel like a slow, suffocating chase. The excitement waned, leaving behind a gnawing emptiness. You tried to entice her, tried to stir up that same wild energy, but something wasn’t clicking. The notes no longer felt as electric, the whispers of her watching no longer sent that rush of adrenaline through your veins. It wasn’t enough.

You needed more. You needed her to snap.

It wasn’t about subtlety anymore, about playing the game. You no longer cared about the thrill of the chase. You needed to push her, to make her cross a line, to make her reveal herself in a way that would break the silence. You wanted her to lose control, to let the mask slip and show you what she really was—what she really wanted. You wanted that raw, unfiltered moment of truth, no more guessing, no more waiting.

Jealousy was a hell of a drug, and you wanted her to be intoxicated by it. 

The thought alone sent a wicked thrill through you—knowing how easily you could make her unravel. It didn’t take a genius to realize that this would be the key, the catalyst. If someone could be as obsessed with you as Ellie was, then watching you bat your eyes at another would send her spiraling.

The idea of it was intoxicating. You could already picture it—her rage, her envy, the twisted satisfaction of knowing you held that power over her. She wasn’t just a shadow lurking in the background anymore; now, she was a puppet to your every move. You wanted to watch her break, wanted to see that sharp edge of possessiveness cut through the delicate web of control she’d spun around you.

This person at work, someone you’d never been remotely attracted to, became the perfect target. It didn’t matter that they didn’t stir any real desire in you. What mattered was how easily you could make them a pawn in your game.

You dressed with purpose—thin, revealing clothes that clung to you just enough to draw attention. You bent over in front of them, making sure they couldn’t help but notice the way your body shifted, the subtle invitation in your movements. When you leaned across their desk, you placed your elbows just far enough to make them look down, just far enough to make sure their gaze lingered. You touched them casually—first their arm, then their cheek, the smallest gestures that left a trail of warmth behind.

But it wasn’t just the physical touch—it was the words, the compliments. You laced them carefully, like poison wrapped in honey. Soft, sweet, and utterly disarming. 

You were touching their soul with every word you spoke, and they had no idea just how deeply they were being pulled into your web. A web that was strung tight, dangerous. 

The notes from Ellie had shifted, subtly at first, but now you could see it in every word. The anger was there, unmistakable, lurking beneath the surface. You could feel it in the way her handwriting had changed, the way the pen dug harder into the paper, as if each word was a desperate attempt to hold onto control.

But it wasn’t just the handwriting. It was the messages themselves—each one growing more erratic, more unhinged, like a slowly unraveling thread. At first, there were warnings—veiled threats—but now they were raw, angry declarations. The intensity of her obsession had taken a darker turn, and you could almost feel her presence in the scrawl of each letter.

And yet, with every note, you didn’t flinch. You didn’t feel fear. Instead, you ripped each one in half with a sick smile, watching the paper tear, feeling the rush of power as you cast them aside. You threw them into the trash without a second thought, the satisfaction of control flooding your veins.

The tension in you grew deeper and more palpable. You knew this wasn’t just a game anymore—it was something darker, something more dangerous, and the pull of it was irresistible. The closer you got to the edge, the more you craved it. The deeper she spiraled, the more alive you felt. You wanted to see her, to feel her. To truly experience her, not this shadow anymore. 

May 23, 2025. 8PM. 

You were out at a bar in the middle of the dancing bodies, music so loud you could go deaf, and blinding lights. It felt otherworldly. You’ve had some person behind you, their hands sliding down your body as the world blurred around you. Just as every other day, you felt her eyes–but today you truly FELT her. It stirred something in you, brought out a confidence you didn’t need alcohol to obtain. She was somewhere in this crowd. 

Four hours and a couple of drinks later, you’re heading back to your apartment alone. Maybe a bit crazy, but you know she’s there with you. You hear the steady rhythm of footsteps behind you, the sound of her deep breaths. The midnight walk through New York’s streets is usually something you’d share with friends, but tonight? Tonight, you want solitude. No distractions. You push through the crowd to the subway, the buzz of the city feeling oddly distant. You grab the bar above your head, your mind elsewhere, unaware that she’s only a few feet away—sitting quietly, hands buried deep in her pockets.

You reach your apartment building, the night air thick with the remnants of your exhilaration, the energy of the bar still clinging to you like perfume. The street lights flicker overhead as you cross the sidewalk, taking in the familiar rhythm of the city that never really sleeps. Your heels tap lightly against the pavement, the click-clack echoing in the silence of the darkened streets.

By the time you get to the door of your apartment, your heart is still pounding, not from the alcohol or the crowd, but from something else. Something deeper, something that lingers in your bones, crawling under your skin. You unlock the door, sliding the key in with practiced ease. The door creaks open, and as you step inside, you pause, feeling the familiar weight of the moment—the door clicking shut behind you just a second longer than usual. 

A soft, satisfied smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. You know. You know she’s here.

Letting the quiet stretch out between you, and you turn around slowly, a wave of excitement flooding your chest. There she is. Finally. You smile wide. It’s not a smile of fear. It’s not a smile of confusion. It’s a smile that speaks of power, of having everything you’ve wanted within arm’s reach.

“Hello, Ellie.”

Without waiting any longer, Ellie's warm hands framed your face, pulling you into a kiss that stole your breath. Your bodies intertwined, your back pressed against the foyer wall, the kiss escalating rapidly. Your hands tangled in her hair as your clothes, discarded in a chaotic trail. All of which landed on the floor, couch, kitchen counter....

Her body guided yours towards the bed, leaving you naked beneath her fully clothed form. The apartment fell silent, punctuated only by the rhythmic sound of your lips meeting and the heavy rasp of your breaths. Her touch was both expert and intimate, a testament to the months she’d spent observing your self-pleasuring rituals. A single press of her finger to your nipple drew a gasp, a way for her tongue to entertain with yours.

Ellie’s fingers traced the contours of your body, arousing shivers of pleasure with every touch. She pulled your bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes locking with yours. The emerald green had darkened, the pupils dilated. Her kisses trailed down your jawline to your chest as did her hands. Starting from your chest and moving until they moved your thighs to wrap around her waist.

“I don’t give you enough credit,” she whispered, her breath hot against your neck, her hips pressing against yours.

A sharp bite at the juncture of your neck and shoulder punctuated her words, a smirk playing on her lips as she watched the realization dawn on your face when you felt what's settled underneath her pants.

"Wanted more? That's what you wanted, huh?" she murmured, sitting up to shed her clothes. "Dragging an innocent into this mess just to rile me up, you really wanted me to snap, didn't you?"

The chill that snaked down your spine had nothing to do with the room's temperature; it was the look in her eyes, a chilling mixture of arousal and something darker, something akin to retribution.

Her fingers found their way between your legs when she saw you staring to pick up on her jealousy charged expression. a scoff-like sound escaping her. Three fingers stretched you open, her eyes never leaving yours, drinking in every nuance of your expression. You whimpered as she moved inside you, her tongue simultaneously circling your clit. The intensity spiraled, body overwhelmed by the attention it was receiving, and you climaxed.

She brings her fingers to drag up your folds the second she sees you were noting the look of deep agitation show on her face. A scoff-like sound escapes her. She hovers her body over you again, lips finding themselves on your neck–fingers continuing their ministrations until they push in. You whine and she shushes you. Her finger moved fast, quickly–not only in terms of her pace but also in how fast she was adding another finger. Three moving in and out of you, stretching you wide. Her eyes stayed on your face the entire time, soaking in every single change in your expression. 

“E-Ellie,” you whine, body squirming as she fucks you. She surprises you when she wraps her lips around your clit, rubbing her tongue there as she continues moving her fingers. The combination had you seeing stars embarrassingly fast. Your hands gripping at whatever you could find, like you lost control. 

No time was given after. She flips you onto your stomach, your legs shaking from the aftermath of your orgasm. Out of pure curiosity, she spreads you open–eyes trailing over your spread opening. Only for a second though before her greed consumes her, before she’s reminded of how others have had their hands on you. 

She has a hand steady on your ass as she moves herself forward, pushing in. You let out something between a moan and a pained cry. It was a stretch from her fingers, a decent one–but it felt amazing. 

“O-oh! Ellie!” You grip the bedsheets, bottom lip falling open as she fucks into you. Each thrust is hit at that area inside you that has you feeling bliss. It’s not enough to make you come, but it’s enough to have you see stars. Each thrust is aimed, rough. You grip at the bedsheets tight enough to tear them, bed shaking and definitely disturbing your neighbors. 

She doesn't stop. Hands and knees, riding, missionary. She wants to see you in every position. She wants to hold you just at the edge of your orgasm, but never fully give it. It actually begins to drive your mind into a state it’s never been–some weird state of bliss and insanity. Tears prick at your eyes as she now fucks into you from above, mind blissed out. It’s been like an hour and she’s broken a sweat, but there's not a bone in her body that wishes to stop. She’s insane, almost like she’s obsessed–her eyes on where she pushes into you, your face, your chest. 

The hours blurred. At 4:02 AM, she finally ceased, leaving you spent and aching. You awoke at 10:12 AM to an empty bed, the only evidence of her presence a letter resting on the sheets, a silent testament to the tumultuous night you’d shared, her body imprinted on your own like a brand.

[elliecore4eva]

loser, nerdy 2000s ellie x popular, bimbo, mean girl fem!reader headcanons

authors note : just wanted to say thank uu sm for the support i’ve seen on my last post abt nerdy ellie, i fr posted it without thinking and i can tell a lot of yall like it! im taking requests for her so lmk what uu want. :)

cw : some nsfw (some of the things i put in the nsfw might be like pg13 but i still put them there anyways idk 😭), lotta jokes abt boobies, ellie’s PAINFULLY nerdy like oh my goodness. takes place in the late 2000s to be oddly specific.

— SFW

• she has fantasies of you and her in the medieval times, you being the glamorous princess and her being your daring, knight in shinning armor. she literally draws it in her sketchbook, pages filled with doodles of you in corsets or big and gorgeous low cut gowns, her holding up a sword towards your “boyfriend” adrian, who in her medieval universe is “lord adrian of valebrume”, a totally made-up kingdom name that sounds dark and full of lies. she made sure it rhymed with gloom, doom, and consume—because duh, he’s the villain.

• and her favorite medieval scenarios? saving you. you’re chained in a tower. a dragon’s outside. adrian is there, trying to “rescue” you but being a fool. ellie shows up on horseback, sword drawn, cloak flapping dramatically. she slays the dragon, pushes adrian off a cliff, and drops to one knee like: “my lady. i have come for you.” you run into her arms, kiss her hard, and whisper, “you’re all I ever wanted, sir williams…”

• she can solve a rubik’s cube in under a minute. but she will not do it in front of people because she’s been bullied enough. only her stuffed triceratops knows how smart she really is.

• she’s so soft for you it’s pathetic. you could insult her in front of the entire class and she’d still smile and go “you’re so funny…” like a kicked puppy. you could say “shut up, ellie” and she’d respond with “yes ma’am” and a full-body shiver.

• 100% draws on her converse “E + (your initial)” with a heart inside of it.

• she’s, OF COURSE, obsessed with dinosaurs. she’ll say corny pick up lines like “i think if i was a dinosaur, i’d be a simp-o-saurus. because… y’know… for you. i’m simpin’ real hard.” and then she’d probably smack herself in the head after like “what the f*ck was i thinking…”.

• even though she’s HEAVILY bullied (specifically for being a lesbian who’s obsessed with you) shes blessed enough to constantly third wheel with dina and jesse.

• quite literally owns a rubber “i heart boobies” bracelet that she insists is for breast cancer awareness, but really she just thinks boobs are awesome and it’s the only time she’s allowed to say it out loud.

• she’s knows how to skate and does it quite frequently as a source of transportation (until joel gives her his rusted up, old, monster truck that ellie isn’t allowed to get till she passes spanish).

• death note is her favorite manga. she bought the first volume from a crusty used bookstore with joel, and it unlocked something feral inside her. the intensity? the drama? the moral conflict? she ate it up. once accidentally moaned when reading a panel of misa sitting on light’s lap. would never admit that.

• she owns a fake death note she made and writes adrian’s name in it “adrian luis davis – punched in the nuts by a ghost and then falls in a porta-potty in front of the whole school. dies of embarrassment.” then she drew a tiny doodle of him slipping on a banana peel. and if another boy makes you laugh? she flips open her ‘death note’, glares over her glasses, and mutters “he’s done for.”.

• she’d be a marching band lesbian idc, she’d play percussion and have the most wrinkled up band uniform ever. and she literally never wears the hat right. it’s always tilted or falling off her head. one time it flew off during a performance and she had to kick it off the field. she was mad until she looked over and saw you laughing at her in the stands.

• still plays the guitar, (she does in every universe), and she practices every single day. after school, while watching invader zim. she zones out completely when she’s playing. it’s the only time her brain shuts up—unless she’s thinking about your boobs. then it’s just chaos. one night she was home alone and played “the only exception” by paramore after smoking weed and cried because it reminded her of you.

• she didn’t tell anyone. just laid on the floor of her living room like a snow angel in her spider-man boxers whimpering.

• she owns a jennifer’s body DVD and keeps it hidden under her bed. watches it on mute when joel isn’t home. she has the kiss scene with needy memorized (she sometimes even rewatches it and imagines it as u and her).

• she owns a chunky PS3 and plays GTA IV when she’s had a bad day, or is just like super angry as her own therapy. she’ll storm into her room, throw her backpack down, and boots up her fat, fingerprint-covered PS3. the fan’s loud, the controller’s kinda sticky from soda, and the GTA IV disc is always already in. she plays like a menace—steals a car, blasts the liberty rock radio station, and causes chaos in liberty city.

• but if she’s super mad?! like adrian calling her out in front of the whole class once again?! his arms around your waist while you just sit there?! she types cheat codes into her cracked notebook and gives niko bellic rocket launchers and infinite health. she’s full on blowing up traffic jams, launching grenades into alleyways, and driving into the water just for the hell of it.

• when joel checks on her like, “you alright, kiddo?” she just grunts “yeah,” while casually tossing molotovs at cop cars with dead eyes. but she plays minecraft when she’s just chilling. she builds the ugliest dirt houses with torches everywhere and lives like a little swamp gremlin. has one big chest labeled “STUFF” and refuses to organize it. she wears full iron armor and still falls in lava. blames lag.

• OBSESSED WITH SPIDER-MAN. she literally has spider-man bedsheets and posters in her room; one above her bed, one crooked on the celling holding on by a thread (when her fan is on too long it almost blows off), and one behind her door.

• when she writes about you in her journal she puts “my MJ <3”. she even draws it. little comic panels where she’s spidey saving MJ (you) from some made-up villain that originates from adrian. ellie gives herself abs and a six-pack. no shame.

• she also owns a knock off spider-man costume. it’s from walmart and a little too tight, with faded colors and one busted web-shooter strap. she wears it with her dirty converse and grey sweatpants and thinks she’s the coolest thing ever. wears it to the store when joel isn’t paying attention. she once got it stuck in the dryer and cried.

• only wears boxers. various different pairs that r always peaking out of her sweatpants, cargos, or jeans. her favorite pair? her prized possession? a pair of faded-ass spider-man boxers. they’re red and blue with tiny spidey logos all over. she’s had them since middle school and refuses to let them go—even though they’re worn thin, have a little hole on the thigh, and the elastic’s basically screaming for mercy.

• she calls them her “lucky boxers” and lowkey wears them on days she knows she might see you. she also owns black boxers with little green dinosaurs on them and classic plaid ones that r oversized and practically fall off her hips. the waistband’s always showing. always. at this point, it’s part of the fit. she doesn’t even care if they get bunched under her jeans—just tugs at them in the hallway like “gotta air it out.”

• if she’s nervous around you, she adjusts her boxers way too much and acts like it’s not because she’s turned on.

• and for some reason, this loser is like freakishly good at soccer? beastly good. jaw-dropping good. weirdly good. but then again it’s probably because she’s a lesbian. she’s fast, aggressive, strategic—she plays forward like she isn’t afraid to slide tackle some 6’0 dude to the ground. she gets called for fouls all the time because she plays like she’s ready to fight. her coach yells at her all the time; “williams! dial it down!”, “williams, it’s not that deep—GET OFF HER!”.

• she wears the same cleats from middle school. they’re black, duct-taped, and smell like her garage. her shin guards are always crooked, and her socks never match.

• she once tried to hit you up by calling you mamacita with the worst accent you’ve ever heard. thought it was smooth. just for you to hit her with the dirtiest look ever. let’s just say she never said that out loud again.

• her all time favorite soda is dr pepper. she drinks it a little too much… her bedroom is a crime scene of empty cans. they’re stacked into little pyramids on her windowsill, crammed into her backpack, one might even be under her pillow. joel once tripped over a can pyramid and she screamed like he destroyed a sacred monument. BUT she swears it “makes her smarter.” she’ll sip it during math tests like it’s brain juice. “it’s got 23 flavors, joel. i’m running on 23 IQ boosts right now.”.

• literally owns a faded, crusty dr pepper graphic tee. it’s oversized and has holes in the collar, but she thinks it’s high fashion. it was $3 at goodwill and she treats it like a designer item. if she’s wearing it under her flannel, it’s a special day. she also 100% has a dr pepper can tab on a necklace chain. she popped it off her “lucky can” and wears it under her shirt. when you find it one day and asks about it, ellie stutters, “it’s—it’s like, uh, for good luck. and stuff…”

• dina notices ellie in class going through her sketchbook, finds one page where your name is written next to a sketch of you in a princess outfit. next to it? ellie’s self-insert knight version—sword drawn, hearts floating around them. dina looks up slowly and goes, “ellie… have you spoken to her yet?”

• “she said ‘thanks’ when I let her borrow a pencil. we’re basically married.”

— NSFW

• she gets turned on by the stupidest things about you. the way you chew gum, the way you fix your hair, the sound of your laugh, the way you tie your shoes, the way you stretch in class and your shirt rides up a little. she’ll cross her legs in AP biology like “be cool. don’t squirm. don’t look at her boobs again.” just to take another quick glance down.

• ellie found out what a strap was from the L word. she saw shane pull it out of a drawer once and nearly passed out. didn’t even know what it was called at first—just googled “lesbian harness thing from l word” on ask jeeves. then, when scrolling online she saw this neon green strap-on with a ugly, cheap, fake leather, hideous colored harness—and for some reason, she bought it. i mean the harness was only $29.99, dildo $14.99 and with a shipping of $8 dollars, it’s not like she could afford those $90 ones. now it’s growing dust under her bed.

• her cute, hideous glasses always slide off her nose when she catches you near her in a mini skirt (or she pushes them up to get a better look at my tits) and because of this, she can quite literally draw your tits from pure memory. no reference. no glances. just pure gay brain storage. she knows the exact curve, how they rest when you’re sitting vs standing, how they look in that one white top with the scoop neckline that makes her borderline pass out.

• but even though she knows them like the back of her hand, she still sneaks glances when she thinks you’re not looking. sometimes you’re bent over the locker room bathroom mirror, adjusting your necklace or putting on lip gloss, and she’s across the room—pretending to tie her converse back on but she’s staring dead at your tits in the mirror reflection like she’s about to start drooling.

• and she’s memorized every single bra you own. color, fabric, lace pattern, where it cuts on your back, how the straps sit on your shoulders, whether the padding lifts your tits or not. she knows which ones you wear when you want to feel cute and which ones are for laundry day.

• when she’s high? forget about it. she starts rambling about the “artistic gravity” of your tits, how the curve reminds her of renaissance sculptures, and how she wants to sculpt them from memory using clay she found behind the garage. dina and jesse once walked in on this monologue and left in silence.

• she doesn’t even smoke that often—maybe once every couple weeks if someone else has it. but every time she does? she turns into a flushed, squirmy, glassy-eyed mess who gets insanely horny within ten minutes. like clockwork. doesn’t matter if it’s a chill high or a head high—ellie’s already halfway down bad the moment it hits her bloodstream.

• one time she smoked weed in dina’s garage with her and jesse. the three of them snuck out to her garage—lights off, old couch, lava lamp glowing. they pass it around like total amateurs, coughing and giggling and pretending to be cool. ten minutes in, ellie is absolutely done for.

• her knees are pulled up to her chest, hoodie sleeves over her hands, eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed bright pink. she’s quiet, too quiet, until dina looks over and goes: “ellie… you good?” and ellie just mumbles, “mhm… i’m chillin’…” while clearly not chillin’.

• she’s thinking about you in a miniskirt. she’s thinking about your glossed-up lips. she’s thinking about your thighs on either side of her head. jesse’s rambling about alien conspiracies meanwhile ellie’s gripping the edge of the blanket, vibrating with how badly she needs to excuse herself. she finally blurts out “i’m gonna go… uh… bathroom. real quick.”

• she bolts toward the house, slamming the bathroom door shut. she barely locks it before her hand’s down her boxers—moaning softly into her arm, her mind spiraling with nothing but you. how pretty you are, how good you smell, how soft your thighs would feel wrapped around her flushed face.

• and her sketchbook is a problem. deep in her sketchbook, the parts she refuses to let anyone else see, are filthy. you sitting on her face, moaning. you spread open with your fingers, juice dripping down your thighs, her name scratched onto your skin. you with hickeys on your chest, teary eyes, flushed cheeks, and the exact position your mouth makes when you’re cumming.

• she’s drawn close-ups of your tits in her sketchbook more times than she can count. like full-studies. the shading, the softness, how the nipples perk when you’re cold. she knows which way they tilt when you’re laying on your side. she draws them squished under her hands. she draws them from memory and gets mad when it’s not perfect.

• and some of her sketches are drawn from scenarios she wishes happened. you sitting in her lap in just your mini skirt with your hand around her neck, you pulling her by the collar into bed with a kiss, you in the school bathroom kissing her against a stall door.

• in which ellie draws herself completely cornered against the stall door. her cheeks are flushed bright red, glasses fogged up, and her lips are shiny from your lip gloss—because you kissed it off her. in the corner of the page, ellie scribbled: “she wore juicy perfume. i could smell it all over me after.”

• remember ellie’s medieval fantasies? well let’s just say they’re not all innocent… a specific one is where she drew you pressed to the castle wall, dress lifted, bent over. ellie’s behind you, armor still on, her gauntlet clamped around your mouth while she takes you with a thick medieval strap—drawn with detailed curve and shimmer of neon green (yes, she draws the neon green strap even in fantasy).

• you’re moaning through her hand, crown slipping, legs shaking while your heels dig into the stone. she adds notes like: “told her to be quiet. she couldn’t.”, “her moans echoed through the halls.”

[elliecore4eva]

cw : somno ⋆ no dialogue | 1k words .ᐟ

ellie has your face everywhere—most of her journal pages, random papers and literal paintings—so it's no surprise she uses any moment of quietness to draw you again.

you're on the couch reading? she's already sitting on the other end of the room, journal in hand, focused on getting the proportions right.

you took a cute polaroid? well, she has it handmade on paper, right on the cork board above her bed. she tried to be fancier and draw it with a pen instead of her usual pencil.

you're outside, paying attention to some plants ? ellie's on the window, sketchbook resting against her knee, trying to capture the way the sunlight hits your face.

and now, while you're asleep—soft breaths, limbs relaxed, the thin straps of your nightgown slipping just slightly off your shoulder. ellie’s at the edge of her bed, journal balanced in her lap, pencil gliding over paper in slow, careful strokes.

she wants to get it perfect. the shape of your lashes against your cheek, the slightly parted lips, the tousled hair, the way your fingers curl slightly around the blanket. her eyes drifted lower as she observed every feature she was about to practice with.

hm, the blanket’s in the way.

ellie bit her lip, shifting in place. you wouldn’t mind if she just…moved it a little, right? just to capture the shape of your hips, the smoothness of your thighs—purely for artistic purposes, obviously.

god. you’re barely wearing anything.

the nightgown’s ridden up, exposing soft skin and the faintest trace of lace beneath. ellie swallows hard, heat prickling at the back of her neck. this is fine—fine—she’s just drawing, after all. she can be normal about this.

but the moonlight catches on the curve of your chest, the delicate rise and fall with each breath, and suddenly her hands feel clumsy, shaky even, like she’s trying too hard to keep it together.

okay ellie, just focus on the drawing. yeah, you can do that. just…anatomy lesson!

working on sketching the full view of your ass shouldn't make her stomach feel this way. she's seen it a hundred times already. but the way you're there, completely unaware of the fact you're the muse of her rather intimate drawing gives her a tingly feeling.

man, drawing soft nipples is kinda complicated. it would be easier if they were hard.

thankfully ellie knows how to solve a problem, especially this one.

as carefully as she could she got up, trying to avoid moving the bed and waking you up. slowly going to stand next to your side of the mattress—hand sliding the straps of your nightwear down to get even easier access. now it's better, she can fully see your boobs and draw then correctly… but yeah, maybe hard nipples would be more convenient. just saying!

she kneeled beside the bed, heart thudding a little too fast, and reaches out—just barely grazing the curve of your breast with the back of her knuckle. the touch is feather-light, almost not there, but even that makes heat curl low in her stomach.

nothing.

no reaction.

you’re still lost in sleep, lashes fluttering faintly against your cheeks.

okay, just a little more.

her thumb brushed over your nipple—gentle, desperately hoping you're deeply asleep—until she felt it harden beneath her touch. a quiet exhale escaped her lips, half in triumph, half because the sight of you like this makes her head spin and her belly tingle even more.

that's better.

she told herself it’s all for the sake of the sketch as she retraces the lines in her mind, committing every detail to memory before she pulls her hand away. but she hesitates—because how could she not? the skin under her fingertips is so warm, so soft, and there’s a sweetness in the air that makes her crave more.

god, she shouldn’t. she should sit back down, finish the drawing like a normal person would, and stop being a complete perv about it.

but instead, her thumb drags across the sensitive peak again—slower this time. watching the way your body shifts under her touch sends a sharp pulse of heat through her. she bit her lip hard enough to hurt, like it’ll ground her, stop her from taking things further.

that's obviously not working because her thumb keeps moving and her lips are slightly parted now, so focused on your body and the subtle reactions it has.

she's just making sure she’s getting every detail right in the sketch. that’s all. no big deal.

but her pulse is hammering so hard, heat coiling low in her belly as she watched the way your body reacts, the way your chest rises just a little sharper when her thumb flicks over your nipple again. she swallowed hard. It’s barely anything, just a subconscious response, but it makes something tighten inside her. maybe you like it, maybe you're dreaming about it, maybe—

her breathing got heavier but barely audible over the quiet rustle of sheets as you shift in your sleep. Her eyes flick to your face, searching for any sign of wakefulness.

just one more touch wouldn’t hurt, right?

her fingers ghosted down your ribs, following the shape of you like she’s still sketching—just without the pencil this time. when she reached your hip, her grip firmed slightly, just to feel the give of soft skin beneath her palm.

her thighs automatically pressed together, making her feel the wetness in between them soaking the fabric of her underwear.

this is bad. so, so bad.

but you’re right there, pliant and warm under her hands, and the temptation is overwhelming.

ellie’s breath hitched as she lets her hand dip lower, tracing the delicate lace of your underwear. the fabric so thin, and she wonders—shit, ellie, stop.

but then you shift again, a sleepy, barely-there hum escaping your lips as your thighs part just slightly, and she’s gone.

she needs to go to the bathroom and take care of it… sigh.

masterlist

[elliecore4eva]

@alessabriel you have no idea how much this means to me! i’m so happy you like them! I’m always here if wanna talk!❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 I wish you the ultimate happiness today and the biggest hug today!🫶☺️ thank you for the love!

[elliecore4eva]

hey!

are there any schitts creek and ellie williams fans here because i just wrote a huge series connecting the two! let me know if y’all are interested!

🫶🫶🫶

[elliecore4eva]

Snippet: Ellie vs. The Tiny Suitors—Round Two

The next time Baby Bear had her friends over, Ellie was ready.

She had a game plan. A strategy. A full battle formation. There was no way in hell she was going to let a bunch of four-year-olds turn into tiny Jackson Casanovas again.

But Ellie made one crucial mistake.

She underestimated you.

And she underestimated her own daughter.

It started out normal enough. You were in the kitchen, making snacks for the kids, humming a little tune while the herd of tiny monsters sat in the living room playing with Baby Bear’s toys. Everything was fine.

Until Ellie heard it.

The collective pause.

Then the collective sigh.

And then—

“She’s so pretty,” one of them whispered.

Ellie’s head snapped up so fast she nearly knocked over her coffee.

“Oh, for fuck’s—” She caught herself just in time, glancing at Joel, who narrowed his eyes at her. She swallowed hard, then muttered under her breath, “For gosh’s sake.”

Jesse snorted.

Bill leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Here we go again.”

Frank was beaming, as if this was his favorite soap opera.

And Joel? Joel just crossed his arms, giving Ellie a knowing look.

“Let’s see how you handle this, kiddo.”

Ellie bristled.

Meanwhile, in the living room, the tiny admirers were at it again.

“I like your apron,” one of them said, eyes big and starry. “You look like a princess baker.”

“I think you’re even prettier than Miss Maria.”

That was when Baby Bear snapped.

She slammed her tiny hands on her tiny knees and glared at them. “OH. MY. GOSH.”

Silence.

Then—

“Guys, stop flirting with my MOM!”

The little boys looked at her, wide-eyed and blinking.

“But she’s really nice,” one of them said, just like last time.

Baby Bear groaned so loudly that Ellie felt personally connected to the sound.

Then, just to make things worse, you turned around—smiling sweetly, completely oblivious to the absolute chaosunfolding.

“Oh, thank you, sweetheart,” you said, ruffling the nearest boy’s hair. “You’re all so polite today.”

Ellie nearly flipped the table over.

“THAT’S IT,” she announced, storming toward the group. “This needs to stop. Right now. Today.”

The little boys froze.

You blinked.

Baby Bear looked relieved.

And then, because the universe had a sick sense of humor—

The tiniest boy, the one who had already asked you out to his birthday party last time, stepped forward.

And he was holding another flower.

Ellie actually stumbled back. “NO WAY. NO. UH-UH.”

The little boy ignored her completely, his tiny face scrunched up in pure determination.

“Miss Bunny,” he said, voice dead serious. “I think you’re really beautiful.”

Ellie felt her soul leave her body.

Baby Bear looked like she was about to throw herself into the snow out of sheer secondhand embarrassment.

And then—

The little boy took a deep breath.

And he dropped down on one knee.

Ellie actually blacked out for a second.

Joel lost it. Jesse had to leave the room. Bill and Frank were holding each other from laughing too hard.

You, meanwhile, were trying your best to hold in a giggle. “Oh, honey,” you cooed, crouching down to his level. “That’s very sweet, but I think I’m already taken.”

The little boy blinked up at you. “By who?”

Ellie snapped.

“BY ME.”

Silence.

Then, Baby Bear tilted her head at her mom, sighed, and muttered—

“Mom, you sound like one of the kids.”

Ellie threw her hands up. “Because I’m fighting for my wife against a bunch of toddlers!”

The little boys just shrugged and went back to playing.

Ellie stood there, completely baffled, watching as Baby Bear sat back down with them like nothing happened.

And then you wrapped your arms around her from behind, pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder, and whispered—

“You won, Bear.”

Ellie let out a slow breath.

Yeah. She won.

But it still felt like a damn close call.

Ellie finally let out a breath, rubbing her face like she had just survived war.

Meanwhile, Baby Bear plopped down in the middle of her friends, shaking her head dramatically. “Okay, no more flirting with my mom. New rule. Anybody who flirts with my mom gets banned from playdates.”

The boys groaned. One of them muttered, “Worth it.”

Ellie almost threw a pillow at him.

You, still giggling, turned in her arms, cupping her face. “You’re really cute when you get jealous.”

Ellie scoffed. “That wasn’t jealousy. That was—parental defense.”

“Oh, really?” You smirked. “So if I said I thought it was cute, you wouldn’t care?”

Ellie immediately looked away. “…I wouldn’t care.”

You grinned, pressing a quick peck to her lips. “Mhm. Sure, babe.”

Before Ellie could argue, a tiny tug at her sleeve made her look down—

Baby Bear, standing there, smirking like hell.

“Mom,” she said innocently, “you totally cared.”

Ellie pointed at her. “You’re grounded.”

Baby Bear gasped, scandalized. “For what?!”

“For teaming up with them!”

Baby Bear rolled her eyes and turned to you. “Mommy, tell her she can’t ground me for being right.”

You smiled. “Sorry, Baby Bear. You did call her out.”

Baby Bear cheered, looking way too proud of herself.

Ellie sighed heavily. “I hate when you guys gang up on me.”

Then, from the floor, one of Baby Bear’s friends suddenly gasped.

“Wait,” he whispered, looking between you and Ellie. “If she’s Baby Bear… does that mean Miss Bunny is Mama Bear?”

Ellie froze.

The whole group of kids turned to you, eyes wide.

Then, in perfect, horrifying unison—

“Mama Bear!!”

Ellie physically felt herself lose this battle.

You, laughing your ass off, just kissed her on the cheek and whispered, “Yeah, Bear. You lost.”

Ellie groaned.

Joel wheezed. Jesse looked like he was about to pass out from laughter. Dina was filming the whole thing.

And Ellie, for the second time that day, had to accept defeat.

Just as Ellie was about to reclaim some of her dignity, Baby Bunny walked in.

Her sharp, teenage eyes immediately scanned the room—the group of tiny boys still staring dreamily at you, Baby Bear looking too smug, and Ellie looking one second away from dramatically collapsing.

She sighed. “What now?”

Baby Bear grinned. “Mommy’s Mama Bear now.”

Baby Bunny blinked. Then she smirked, arms crossing. “Oh my God.”

Ellie shot her a glare. “Don’t.”

Baby Bunny ignored her. She turned to the group of kids and said, “Hey, you know she hates that, right?”

Baby Bear nodded enthusiastically. “Yup.”

Baby Bunny grinned. “So we have to keep saying it.”

Ellie groaned, throwing her head back.

Joel, Jesse, Dina, Bill, and Frank? Absolutely losing it.

One of Baby Bear’s friends, the bravest of them all, tugged at your sleeve. “Mama Bear, can I have more cookies?”

Ellie clutched her chest.

You giggled and handed him one, ruffling his hair. “Of course, sweetie.”

Ellie swore she heard a choir of angels because that little boy looked like he just ascended to heaven.

Baby Bunny snorted. “Bro, relax.”

“I can’t,” the boy whispered, eyes sparkling.

Ellie knew she should be more concerned about how many crushes her wife was collecting, but right now, all she could do was lean against Joel and sigh in defeat.

Joel, barely holding back laughter, clapped a hand on her shoulder. “You’re so screwed, kiddo.”

Ellie groaned again. “I know.”

And across the room, Baby Bear beamed, clearly proud of the chaos she had created.

Ellie had had enough.

With a dramatic groan, she grabbed your wrist, yanked you into her arms, and kissed you right there—right in front of the entire room.

The second her lips met yours, chaos erupted.

Baby Bear’s tiny friends screamed. Not in horror. Not in protest. But in pure, dramatic devastation.

“NOOOOOO!!” one of them wailed, clutching his chest like he had just been stabbed.

Another one collapsed onto the floor, whispering, “I had a chance…”

Baby Bunny cackled, holding her stomach. “Oh my God, they’re dying.”

Baby Bear, looking far too smug, just patted one of her friends on the back. “Sorry, dude. That’s my mom.”

Meanwhile, you? Laughing against Ellie’s lips.

Ellie pulled back just enough to whisper, “That should keep them from flirting with you.”

You smirked. “Or it made it worse.”

Before Ellie could respond, one of the boys reached out from the floor and gasped, “Miss Bunny, please don’t forget me—”

Ellie pointed at him. “You’re seven.”

The kid groaned dramatically. “But I love her.”

Joel, wheezing, muttered, “This is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Jesse had tears in his eyes from laughing. Bill and Frank were losing it. Dina? Oh, she was definitely posting this on Jackson’s bulletin board.

Ellie just sighed and pulled you closer, grumbling, “You are never allowed near Baby Bear’s friends again.”

And from the floor, one last desperate voice—

“But Mama Bear—”

Ellie groaned so loud the entire town probably heard her.

[elliecore4eva]

Snippet: Baby Bear’s Little Suitors

You were in the middle of slicing up some fruit in the kitchen when you heard them.

The herd of tiny feet thundering down the hallway.

Baby Bear had invited a few of her little friends over—just a handful of other four-year-olds from Jackson who adored her. It was meant to be a casual playdate, nothing special. But the moment they saw you, standing there, all warm smiles and soft laughter, their little brains seemed to short-circuit.

There was a collective pause.

And then—

“You’re so pretty,” one of them blurted out, loud and proud, as if he couldn’t physically hold it in.

Ellie, sitting at the table with Joel and Jesse, snapped her head up so fast it could’ve given her whiplash.

You bit back a laugh, giving the tiny boy a fond smile. “Well, aren’t you sweet?”

The other boys exchanged glances. Oh, it was on.

One of them, a little braver, stepped forward. “Your hair is so shiny.”

Another piped up, “And your voice is so nice!”

The last one, bold as hell, beamed up at you and said, “You’re the prettiest mama in all of Jackson.”

Ellie choked.

Joel wheezed.

Jesse had to cover his face with his hands.

And Baby Bear, standing off to the side with her arms crossed, let out the longest, most dramatic sigh.

“Oh my gosh,” she muttered, shaking her head like a fed-up babysitter.

The boys, completely ignoring her, continued throwing compliments at you.

“Can I help you with the fruit?” “I like your dress!” “You should have a crown because you’re a queen!”

Ellie looked like she was about to have a stroke.

Joel had tears in his eyes from laughing. Jesse was practically silent wheezing.

And then—

The moment of all moments.

One of the little boys—tiny, tiny, with a mop of curly hair—stepped forward, nervous but determined. He clutched a little flower in his hands (which, where the hell did he even get that?!) and held it up to you.

“Miss Bunny,” he said shyly. “Will you go to my birthday party with me?”

Joel slapped the table, nearly falling out of his chair. Jesse was gone. Ellie gripped the counter so hard she might’ve cracked it.

Baby Bear groaned so loudly.

“Oh, come on,” she cried. “That’s my mom! My mom!”

The little boy blinked at her. “Yeah. But she’s really nice.”

Ellie let out a low, dangerous growl.

“Alright, alright,” you finally cut in, trying (and failing) to suppress your laughter. You crouched down, taking the flower gently. “That is so sweet of you, bud. But I think I’d rather go to your birthday party as a friend, okay?”

The boy sighed dramatically but nodded. “Okay.”

Baby Bear threw her hands in the air. “Finally!”

Ellie, still tense as hell, glared at the tiny group of boys.

“Alright, listen up,” she said, voice gruff, arms crossed. “I don’t wanna hear one more word about my wife’s prettinessfrom any of you, got it?”

Silence.

Then—

“She’s really kind, too.”

Ellie let out the most frustrated groan of her life.

Baby Bear buried her face in her hands.

Joel? Jesse? Absolutely losing it.

And you—

You just sat back and soaked it all in, grinning as you twirled the little flower in your hands.

[elliecore4eva]

The Day They Broke You

You weren’t sure how it happened.

You weren’t sure why it happened.

All you knew was that today, the three people you loved most—Ellie, Baby Bunny, and Baby Bear—each snapped at you.

And by the time the day was over, you weren’t sure how much of you was left.

Snap One: Baby Bunny

You had always adored your eldest.

She was sixteen now, full of attitude but full of heart—her mother’s daughter in every way.

So, when she stomped into the kitchen after school, dropping her bag with a groan, you only smiled.

“Rough day?” you asked, reaching out to brush her hair back.

But she pulled away.

You blinked.

“Baby?”

She exhaled sharply. “Mom, I swear, if you ask me that one more time—”

You frowned. “I just wanted to check on you, sweetheart.”

Baby Bunny rolled her eyes. “I don’t need you to check on me all the time,” she muttered. “You’re always hovering.”

You felt something crack inside you.

You hovered?

You just wanted to make sure she was okay.

But she just grabbed her bag and muttered, “You’re so overbearing sometimes.”

And with that—

She was gone.

Snap Two: Baby Bear

Your youngest—your sunshine—had always been the easiest piece of your heart.

So when you went to pick her up, you smiled and opened your arms.

But instead of running to you like she always did, Baby Bear just frowned.

“Mommy, why are you always hugging me?”

Your heart stopped.

“What?” you asked softly.

She scrunched her nose. “You do it too much.”

Something inside you collapsed.

You swallowed thickly and forced a smile. “I’m sorry, baby.”

She huffed. “You should be.”

And just like that—

Another crack.

Snap Three: Ellie

Ellie was your safe place.

She was the one who knew you, who loved you more than anyone.

So when she came home, you thought—

Maybe now. Maybe she’ll be happy to see me.

You stood, smiling. “Hey, Bear,” you greeted. “Dinner’s almost ready—”

But she just sighed.

“Bunny, I literally just walked in,” she muttered. “Can I breathe first?”

Your chest tightened. “I— I wasn’t—”

“Jesus, can you not cling to me the second I get home?”

The final crack.

The final break.

The final piece of you shattered.

“Oh,” you whispered.

Ellie froze.

You took a step back.

And then you left.

Missing

Two hours.

Three.

Ellie sat at the table, rubbing her temples.

“Where’s Bunny?”

Baby Bunny frowned. “I dunno.”

Baby Bear glanced around. “Mommy?”

Something in Ellie twisted.

“She— she didn’t say anything?”

Baby Bunny shifted in her seat. “Well… I might have been kinda mean to her earlier.”

Baby Bear sniffled. “I was mean, too.”

Ellie’s stomach sank.

And then it hit her.

She had snapped at you, too.

And now, you were gone.

“Oh, fuck.”

She bolted out the door.

Breaking Point

They found you in the freezing cold, curled up on a bench.

But you weren’t just crying.

You were sobbing.

Your shoulders shook violently.

Your breathing was ragged.

And when Joel reached you first, his heart broke.

“Baby girl,” he whispered, dropping to his knees. “Sweetheart, look at me.”

But you couldn’t.

Because you were breaking.

Ellie’s voice was small. “Bunny?”

No response.

Baby Bunny’s eyes welled up. “Mom?”

Nothing.

Baby Bear crawled into your lap, hugging you. “Mommy, please don’t cry,” she whimpered. “I didn’t mean it.”

Slowly—

You lifted your head.

Ellie’s chest ached.

Your eyes were swollen. Your lips were trembling. Your hands were shaking.

And then—

The worst part.

You whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Ellie shattered.

“No,” she choked out. “No, Bunny, don’t—”

But you just kept crying.

Like you thought you had to apologize for being loved too much.

Joel gently wiped your tears. “Sweetheart, you are never too much.”

Dina sniffled. “We love you so much.”

Bill huffed. “We’re all idiots.”

Frank wiped his eyes. “Never again, honey.”

Ellie buried her face in your shoulder. “I love you, Bunny. I love you so fucking much.”

Baby Bunny sobbed. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean it.”

Baby Bear hiccupped. “Me too, Mommy. I love you the most.”

And finally—

Finally—

You let them hold you.

And you let yourself believe them.

Epilogue: The Next Morning

You woke up wrapped in warmth.

Ellie was clinging to you, her face buried in your neck.

Baby Bunny was curled up beside you, holding your hand in her sleep.

Baby Bear was snuggled into your chest, snoring.

When you shifted—

Ellie tightened her grip.

“Mm-mm,” she grumbled sleepily. “Nope. Not happening.”

You smiled softly. “What’s not happening?”

Ellie peeked up, pressing a sleepy kiss to your jaw. “Not letting you out of my arms.”

Baby Bunny yawned, snuggling closer. “Yeah, me neither.”

Baby Bear popped her head up. “Me three.”

Joel chuckled from the doorway. “I see the guilt train has officially arrived.”

Ellie huffed. “Damn right.”

You just laughed, full again.

Because no matter how broken yesterday had made you—

Today, you were loved.

And that was everything.

Future Snippet: Warmth After the Cold

The house was quiet that night.

Not in a lonely way—just in the way that homes feel when everyone inside is finally settled, safe.

You were tucked into bed, warm beneath thick blankets, with Ellie wrapped around you like she thought you might disappear if she let go.

She hadn’t stopped touching you since they found you crying in the snow. Not when she carried you inside, not when she sat you in front of the fire and wrapped you in her flannel, not when she whispered soft apologies into your hair over and over again.

And certainly not now.

Her arm was draped across your stomach, her nose nuzzled into the back of your neck. Every now and then, she mumbled something, half-asleep but still making sure you knew how much she loved you.

You shifted slightly, adjusting to get more comfortable—

And immediately, Ellie stirred.

"Mm—Bun?" Her voice was groggy, laced with sleep but still full of concern.

"I’m right here, Bear," you murmured. "Just getting comfy."

Ellie hummed, tightening her hold. "You better be."

There was a tiny shuffling sound, and then another voice piped up—this one soft, sleepy, and very small.

"Mama?"

You turned your head and saw Baby Bear standing at the side of the bed, rubbing her tired little eyes.

"Sweetheart," you whispered, immediately lifting the blanket. "Come here, baby."

She wasted no time, climbing into the bed and snuggling into your chest.

Ellie sighed. "There’s my little troublemaker."

Baby Bear yawned. "M’not a troublemaker," she muttered sleepily. "I’m a hero. I told that dumb boy to leave Mama alone."

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You did, baby. You were very brave."

Ellie beamed, clearly so proud of her daughter. "That’s my girl."

There was another shuffling noise, and a second later, Baby Bunny peeked into the room, her voice hushed. "Can I—?"

"You better get in here before I start charging rent," Ellie grumbled, pulling the blanket up again.

With a smirk, Baby Bunny hopped into bed, snuggling into your other side.

And just like that, you were surrounded.

Ellie wrapped her arms around all three of you, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. "See?" she murmured. "Right where you belong."

You sighed, feeling warm and safe and loved.

And just before sleep took you under, you heard Baby Bunny mumble—

"We’re never letting this happen again."

And none of them ever did.

Future Snippet: Wrapped in Love

The warmth in the room wasn’t just from the blankets. It was from them.

Ellie, Baby Bunny, and Baby Bear—tangled around you like they were afraid to let go.

After everything that had happened that day—the way all three of them had snapped at you without meaning to, the way they had let their own frustrations spill over onto you, the way you had ended up outside in the cold, alone—this moment felt like a balm to every wound.

You didn’t want to think about it anymore.

Didn’t want to replay Baby Bunny’s exasperated huff when she rolled her eyes at you. Didn’t want to hear Baby Bear’s whiny little voice snapping in frustration. Didn’t want to hear Ellie’s sharp words from earlier, the ones she immediatelyregretted but still had cut deep.

Because none of that mattered now.

Not when you were here, warm, safe, surrounded.

Baby Bear was curled up on your chest, her tiny fingers fisting into your shirt like she thought you might disappear if she let go. Her little face was smushed against you, soft breaths fanning against your skin. You could still hear her earlier sobs echoing in your mind—her little voice breaking as she clung to you, saying she was sorry, sorry, sorry, Mama, I didn’t mean it.

Baby Bunny was on your other side, an arm lazily draped across your stomach, her face buried in the blankets. She had been so quiet when they found you—so unlike herself. No sass, no witty remark. Just wide, guilt-ridden eyes, barely able to look at you before she mumbled, I was a real asshole today, huh?

Ellie was wrapped around all three of you, like she needed to make sure no one could take you away. Her arms were strong, firm, steady. She had been the last to find you, after realizing neither of your girls knew where you were. It wasn’t often that Ellie panicked—but she had. And the look in her eyes when she found you outside, sitting on that cold bench, crying alone—

You never wanted to see that look again.

Now, she was pressed up against your back, her nose buried in your hair, arms wound so tightly around your waist it was almost impossible to breathe. But you didn’t care. You needed it.

You shifted slightly, just enough to turn toward her, and Ellie immediately stirred.

“Mm—Bun?” Her voice was rough with sleep, but still full of concern.

You hummed, running a hand down her arm. “M’right here, Bear.”

Ellie exhaled, a long, deep breath, like she hadn’t been sure you’d still be here if she opened her eyes. Then she pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the side of your head.

A tiny shuffling noise came from your chest.

“Mama?”

Baby Bear’s small, sleepy voice made your heart ache with love. You ran a hand over her soft hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Right here, baby.”

Baby Bear let out a tiny breath, her hand curling tighter into your shirt. “Don’t wanna go to sleep.”

Ellie chuckled, voice still thick with exhaustion. “Why not, troublemaker?”

Baby Bear yawned, the sound so tiny it made your chest ache. “Wanna make sure Mama stays.”

Your heart nearly broke.

Ellie pressed another kiss to your temple before reaching over to brush Baby Bear’s curls back. “She’s not going anywhere, bug. We made sure of that.”

There was another shuffling sound, and then a sleepy voice mumbled, “You guys are so dramatic.”

Baby Bunny.

Ellie scoffed. “Big words for someone who was crying into my jacket two hours ago.”

Baby Bunny groaned. “I was not—”

“You so were.”

You laughed, despite everything. Because even in moments like this, they were them.

Baby Bunny sighed dramatically before shifting closer, resting her head against your shoulder.

There was a comfortable silence.

The house was still.

And then—

“Mom?” Baby Bear’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Mm?”

“...I love you.”

Your breath hitched.

Then—

Baby Bunny, softer this time: “Me too.”

Ellie, pressing her lips against your hair: “Me three.”

And just like that—

Every part of you that had felt cold today—every ache, every hurt, every leftover pain—melted.

You exhaled shakily, eyes fluttering shut as you smiled. “I love you guys too.”

Ellie held you a little tighter. Baby Bunny let out a happy hum. Baby Bear snuggled further into your chest.

And as the four of you drifted into sleep, tangled in each other—

You knew, without a doubt, that you would never be alone again.

[elliecore4eva]

Kitchen Chaos & The Great Pancake Debate

Mornings in the Williams Miller household were never peaceful.

And today?

Today was a disaster.

You had woken up to the smell of burnt pancakes and the sound of arguing from the kitchen.

“No, Baby Bear, that’s too much flour!”

“But Mama, I’m helping!”

“That’s not helping, that’s ruining! Look at this mess!”

Baby Bunny groaned. “Ugh, why are you even listening to her? She eats dirt.”

Your four-year-old gasped. “I do not!”

Ellie sighed dramatically. “You literally ate mud last week.”

“I was testing nature!”

At that moment, you walked in—just in time to see Ellie, Baby Bunny, and Baby Bear covered in flour, eggshells everywhere, and pancake batter dripping off the counter.

You blinked. “What the hell happened in here?”

Baby Bunny pointed at her sister. “She’s a menace.”

Baby Bear crossed her arms. “Well, Mama let me do it.”

You turned to Ellie. “Seriously?”

Ellie raised her hands. “Look, I thought she’d be better at cracking eggs, okay?”

Baby Bear grinned proudly. “I cracked three!”

Baby Bunny scoffed. “Yeah, and two of them still have shells in the batter.”

Baby Bear giggled. “Extra crunchy!”

Ellie snorted, covering her mouth. “See? She’s got ideas.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Okay. New plan. Ellie, clean up this disaster. Baby Bunny, help her. Baby Bear, you—”

Baby Bear puppy-eyed you. “Do I still get pancakes?”

You sighed. “Yes. Without eggshells.”

Baby Bear cheered, running to hug you.

Ellie smirked, pulling you into her side. “See, babe? Chaos makes for good memories.”

You gave her a look. “You’re never cooking again.”

Baby Bunny grinned. “Thank God.”

And Baby Bear?

She just shoved a handful of flour onto Ellie’s face.

Ellie had never been prouder.

[elliecore4eva]

Bedtime Bandits & Betrayal

Getting two kids to bed? Impossible.

Ellie had fought clickers, raiders, and infected. Nothing—nothing—was as terrifying as a four-year-old refusing to sleep.

And tonight?

She was losing the battle.

“Baby Bear,” Ellie sighed, arms crossed as she stood at the bedroom door. “It is past your bedtime.”

Your tiny four-year-old sat in bed, arms wrapped around their stuffed bunny, blinking up at her innocently.

“But Mama,” they said, voice sweet as sugar. “I need my goodnight cuddles.”

Ellie melted instantly.

You, from across the room, sighed. “Ellie, don’t fall for it—”

Too late.

Ellie had already climbed into bed, wrapping her arms around the little traitor. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Your four-year-old giggled in victory.

Then—

Footsteps.

Baby Bunny, your sixteen-year-old, poked her head into the room.

“Hey,” she said, unimpressed. “Why does she get to stay up?”

Ellie froze.

Your four-year-old gasped. “I thought you were on my side.”

Baby Bunny smirked. “Nope. I’m Team Mom.”

Your four-year-old gasped again. “TRAITOR.”

Ellie snorted, pulling the little one closer. “Don’t worry, Baby Bear. I’m still on your team.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ellie, you are the worst at discipline.”

Ellie just grinned. “Yeah, but I’m the best at bedtime cuddles.”

Your four-year-old beamed. Baby Bunny groaned.

And you?

You just shook your head, crawling into bed beside them. “Fine. But only five minutes.”

Ellie smirked. “Sure, babe. Five minutes.”

(Spoiler: You all woke up like that the next morning.)

[elliecore4eva]

Snowball Fights & Tiny Traitors

Winter in Jackson meant two things: freezing temperatures and absolute chaos.

And today?

Chaos was in full swing.

Ellie stood outside, arms crossed, surveying the battlefield—aka, the backyard—where the ultimate snowball fight was about to go down.

On one side: Team Williams—you, Baby Bunny, and your four-year-old, bundled up in way too many layers.

On the other: Team Losers—Dina, Jesse, Joel, Bill, and Frank.

Ellie, of course, was the referee. Neutral. Impartial.

Until—

Your four-year-old shattered the peace.

“Momma’s too scared to play!”

Ellie jerked. “What?”

Baby Bunny grinned. “Yeah, she’s totally scared. That’s why she’s just watching.”

Ellie narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?”

Your four-year-old gasped dramatically. “She’s chicken! Bawk bawk!”

Frank wheezed. Bill had to turn away.

And you?

You just smirked, standing behind your kids like a general preparing for war.

“You heard ‘em, babe,” you teased. “Looks like you gotta prove yourself.”

Ellie’s competitive streak flared to life.

“Oh, you’re on.”

With zero hesitation, Ellie grabbed a snowball and launched it—

Right at Dina’s face.

The yard erupted.

Baby Bunny screeched. Your four-year-old cackled.

Jesse yelled, “Oh, IT’S LIKE THAT?!”

Joel ducked for cover. Frank betrayed Bill immediately.

And Ellie?

Ellie was too busy cackling as she sprinted toward you, grabbed you by the waist, and tackled you both into the snow.

Baby Bunny and the four-year-old piled on top, giggling uncontrollably as Ellie pressed her face against your neck.

“Mine,” she mumbled, grinning like an idiot. “Forever.”

Baby Bunny groaned. “Ugh, you guys are so embarrassing.”

Your four-year-old giggled. “But they’re in love!”

And Ellie?

Ellie more in love than ever.

[elliecore4eva]

Flirting Fails & Fierce Little Williams

Ellie knew this day would come.

She just didn’t expect to hate it so much.

Her Baby Bunny—her firstborn, her pride and joy—was sixteen now, meaning the house was constantly full of teenagers. That was fine. Ellie could handle teenagers.

What she couldn’t handle?

Teenage boys flirting with her wife.

“Mrs. Williams,” Leo said smoothly, grinning at you across the kitchen counter. “I swear, you just get prettier every time I see you.”

Ellie, standing at the fridge, froze.

Baby Bunny, sitting on a stool nearby, scoffed. “Wow. That’s your best line?”

Leo shot her an annoyed look. “I’m just being nice.”

Baby Bunny smirked. “Mmmhmm. You do know my Momma is standing right behind you, right?”

Leo gulped.

Ellie leaned against the fridge, crossing her arms. “Yeah, kid. You do know that, right?”

Leo visibly paled.

And just when it couldn’t get worse for him—

A tiny voice piped up.

“Leo’s in love with Mommy!”

Everyone turned.

There, standing with her hands on her hips, was their four-year-old.

Their tiny, chaotic, unfiltered second-born, grinning with pure mischief.

Ellie’s heart swelled.

Leo, meanwhile, looked mortified. “I—I am not—”

The four-year-old gasped dramatically. “Are you gonna kiss her?”

Joel choked.

Bill wheezed.

Jesse clapped a hand over his mouth.

Ellie beamed, proud as hell.

And Baby Bunny?

She grinned like she just won the lottery.

“Yeah, Leo,” she said, tilting her head. “You gonna kiss my mom?”

Leo looked ready to pass out. “Oh my God—”

The four-year-old giggled. “That means you wanna marry her!”

Leo fled the kitchen.

And Ellie?

Ellie threw her arms around both of her kids, beaming with pure pride.

“My girls,” she said, squeezing them. “I have never been prouder.”

You just laughed, shaking your head. “You three are menaces.”

Baby Bunny smirked. “We learned from the best.”

And Ellie?

Ellie had never been happier.

[elliecore4eva]

Sunshine in the Snow-part 2

Ellie hadn’t planned on moving.

She was perfectly content standing there, watching you and Baby Bunny be the brightest damn things in Jackson.

But then you looked at her.

And that was it.

You grinned, eyes crinkling, and held out a mittened hand. “Bear, come play.”

Ellie barely hesitated.

Behind her, the group barely contained their emotions.

“Holy shit,” Jesse whispered.

“She’s going,” Dina gasped.

“Oh, I’m gone,” Frank choked out.

Joel? Joel just crossed his arms over his chest, eyes glassy, jaw clenched.

Ellie stepped off the porch, crunching through the fresh snow, boots leaving careful prints behind.

Baby Bunny gasped, wiggling in your arms. "Mama Bear!"

Ellie smirked, ruffling her curls. “Hey, Baby Bunny.”

You grabbed her hand, tugging her down into the snow beside you. “You’re just in time to help us build the ugliest snowman Jackson has ever seen.”

Ellie laughed. “Looks like you already did that, babe.”

You gasped dramatically. “How dare you? Look at him! He’s—” You paused, squinting at the misshapen lump of snow. “Okay, yeah, he’s ugly.”

Baby Bunny clapped her tiny hands. “Uggy!”

Ellie barked out a laugh, wrapping an arm around your waist, pressing her face into your neck.

Behind you, the group lost it.

Dina wiped at her eyes aggressively. “I can’t with them.”

Frank clutched at his chest. “It’s too much. I’m not built for this.”

Jesse groaned, swiping a hand down his face. “She used to be cool.”

Bill—stoic, grumpy Bill—just cleared his throat, voice thick. “She’s happy. That’s all that matters.”

Joel said nothing. Just blinked hard, nodding.

Because yeah.

That was all that mattered.

Ellie leaned in, pressing her forehead against yours. “You’re ridiculous, Bunny.”

You beamed. “And you love me for it.”

Ellie smiled. “Yeah.”

Then she tugged you even closer, squeezing Baby Bunny between you, voice warm and sure—

“I really, really do.”

[elliecore4eva]

Sunshine in the Snow

It had started snowing again.

Gentle flakes drifted down over Jackson, dusting rooftops, settling into footprints, turning the world soft and quiet.

By the stables, in a small clearing just beyond the fences, you were playing with Baby Bunny.

No one had meant to stop and watch.

But one by one, they had.

First Joel, heading home from patrol. Then Dina and Jesse, hands full of supplies from the market. Bill and Frank, out for their usual afternoon walk. Ellie, fresh off a shift at the gates.

Now, the six of them stood just a few feet away, tucked beneath the porch of the Tipsy Bison, watching you.

You were bundled up in layers, scarf wrapped around your neck, mittens oversized on your hands. Baby Bunny giggled as you spun her in the air, her little boots kicking up puffs of fresh snow.

"Again!" she shrieked. "Again, Mama Bunny!"

And god, the way you laughed.

Bright. Carefree. The kind of sound that made people stop in their tracks.

Ellie felt something squeeze in her chest.

“Jesus,” Jesse muttered.

Dina sniffled. “I know.”

Bill cleared his throat, voice gruff. “Ain’t fair, how much we all love her.”

Frank smiled, nudging his shoulder. “You soft old man.”

Joel said nothing. Just watched.

Watched as you knelt in the snow, holding Baby Bunny’s tiny hands, helping her build the world’s worst snowman.

Ellie could see it so clearly—the warmth in your eyes, the way you felt every moment, poured every ounce of love into even the smallest things.

And she wasn’t the only one who saw it.

Dina wiped at her eyes. “God, if she ever left Jackson, I think the whole town would riot.”

Joel finally spoke, voice thick with emotion. “She ain’t leavin’.”

And there was something so certain in the way he said it.

Because of course you weren’t.

Your home was here.

With them.

With Ellie.

She swallowed hard, watching as you scooped Baby Bunny into your arms, pressing a million tiny kisses to her chubby cheeks, making her squeal with delight.

Ellie felt it then—the same thing they were all feeling.

Love.

Big, bone-deep, aching love.

For you.

For the way you made this place brighter. Warmer.

For the way you loved them.

You turned then, eyes catching on Ellie, and your face lit up like the damn sun.

Ellie barely had time to react before you were running toward her, Baby Bunny in tow, grinning wide.

And Ellie?

Ellie opened her arms, ready to catch you both.

Because where else would she rather be?