#just the idea William is on the floor

[chloesimaginationthings]

He has no mouth but he must scream in FNAF..

[marscardigan]

when you need the job done

neighbor!ellie williams x reader

neighbor!ellie universe

summary: moving out alone for the first time might be scary—and awfully exhausting. you’re lucky you have a very handy lesbian as a neighbor.

word count: 6.8k

THE BOX you were carrying was way too heavy. You knew it the second you stubbornly yanked it out of the trunk, but by the time you realized how unwise that was, you were already halfway up the steps to your new apartment. The one that didn't have an elevator.

A bead of sweat ran down your temple. Your arms were shaking, the cardboard creaking ominously, and you could feel the edge of a textbook digging into your thigh through the bottom of the box.

You grunted softly as you stagger forward, muttering under your breath, "okay, stupid idea, officially noted."

That’s when you heard it. A door creaking open. You looked up, flustered, and caught sight of her. A young woman that was standing in the open doorway of the unit just across the hall. Faded gray hoodie, sweatpants that sat a little too low on her hips, and a tangle of auburn hair in a messy bun that looked like it gave up halfway. One hand gripped the door frame, the other clutching a half-eaten granola bar.

She blinked at you, shocked. You offered a small, sheepish smile. "Hi."

She blinked again. "Uh—hi."

There was a beat of silence. She kept staring at you, and you shifted your weight, struggling to hold the box and at the same time balance your pride. "I, uh… just moved in."

She nodded quickly. "Yeah, no—I figured. New face. And boxes. That’s… obvious. Sorry."

You bit back a laugh. "I promise I’m not usually this pathetic. Just… long drive. Too much stuff."

Ellie snapped out of it suddenly, like her brain had just rebooted. "Shit—wait. Let me help you with that."

Before you could protest, she’s stepping forward, quickly wiping her hand on her hoodie like she just remembered she’s eating, then gently taking the box from you like she’s worried you’ll shatter if she’s too rough. And she lifted it as if it didn't weight anything. God, you're not sure if it was just the exhaustion, but was the room suddenly hotter? Or was it just you?

"Oh my god," you exhaled in relief, letting your arms drop. "Thank you. You may have just saved my spine."

She grinned softly, cheeks a little pink. "No problem. I’m Ellie, by the way."

You gave her your name, and she repeated it quietly under her breath, like she wanted to make sure she didn’t forget. It was oddly endearing.

She followed you into your apartment and gently sat the box down by the window. "Wow. You’ve got, like… a lot of books."

You glanced around at the stack of boxes marked READING / PLEASE DON’T CRUSH, smiling a little. "Guilty. I had a system, but the system kinda died somewhere around hour five of unpacking."

Ellie nodded like she got it. "Want some help? I mean—only if you want. I don’t have anything going on. Just… reorganizing my guitar pedals and regretting life choices."

You raised an eyebrow. "Guitar pedals?"

She blushed faintly. "Yeah. Music nerd. Don’t judge."

"I’d never," you replied, already walking toward the nearest box. "If you’re serious about helping, I’ve got a bookshelf I was too scared to try assembling alone."

She perked up immediately. "I’m your girl."

An hour later, Ellie was sitting cross-legged on your living room floor, her hoodie sleeves pushed up—her arm tattoo on full display, as she studied the instruction manual with a look of pure concentration.

There was a screw between her lips and her hair was falling in her face, but she didn’t seem to notice. You were lying on the rug beside her, trying not to laugh. "You look like you’re defusing a bomb."

She spat out the screw with a grin. "This is Ikea. You never know." You laughed, and Ellie beamed at the sound. "Okay, hand me the... um. That… L-shaped—thingy."

"You mean the Allen wrench?"

"Right. That. Allen. Bastard of a wrench."

You passed it to her and watched as her hands worked with practiced ease, though she was still mumbling things like 'who designed this nightmare' under her breath. After a few minutes, the pieces started to come together.

You offered her a drink from your tiny fridge, and she takes it with a soft 'thanks,' sipping while scanning the partially-built shelf.

"You know," she said casually, "this place is nice. Good lighting. Kinda cozy already."

"Think I’ll like it here."

Ellie shrugged, maybe a little too fast. "Yeah, well. I mean. You’ve got a cool neighbor, so."

You laughed, leaning your head back against the wall. "I really do."

ELLIE WAS standing at your door, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other, wiping her hands on her jeans even though she hadn’t touched anything in the past ten minutes. The bookshelf was done. The boxes were stacked a little neater. She helped more than she should have for someone who just met you, and now there’s a weird lull in the air like… okay, what happens now?

You stretched your arms overhead, groaning quietly as your back pops. "Okay, officially retiring from lifting furniture."

Ellie snorted. "You say that now. Wait until you realize you still have, like, six more boxes marked 'miscellaneous disaster'."

You groaned again, dramatically this time. "Those are tomorrow’s problems." Then, with a soft sigh, you glanced toward your hallway and say, "God, I still need to get a new bulb for the bedroom. I haven’t been able to see in there since I got here."

Ellie raises her brows. "No light at all?"

"None," you say. "And of course, I packed the lamps in the box that’s... still in my car. Which is currently blocked in by some delivery truck of doom."

There was a pause. You expected a laugh, maybe a 'good luck with that.' Instead, she played with two of her fingers awkwardly, and smiled at you. "I could take you?" she said.

You blinked. "What?"

"To the store," she shrugged, eyes darting away like she regrets offering. "I was just gonna run out and grab snacks or something anyway."

You tilted your head. "You were?"

Ellie turned red, but tried to play it cool. "Yeah. Definitely. Wasn’t just gonna, y’know, spiral alone in my apartment or anything."

You both knew that was a lie. But you laughed, and something in her posture relaxed. "Okay," you replied, smiling. "Yeah. Let’s go lightbulb hunting."

Ten minutes later, you’re both in Ellie’s dusty old truck—windows slightly cracked, and a faint smell of pine from a crooked air freshener hanging from the mirror. She was gripping the wheel like she’s trying not to white-knuckle it, sneaking occasional glances at you when she thinks you’re not looking. You’re pretty sure you caught every single one.

At the hardware store, the lightbulb section was far more overwhelming than it had any right to be. You stood in front of it together, baffled by the sheer number of wattage options.

"Why are there so many types?" you whispered.

Ellie whispered back, "capitalism."

Eventually, you grabbed the right one (after way too much debate about warm vs. cool lighting), and Ellie casually picked up a few things for herself. Chips. A soda. A pack of sour candy she pretended not to want until you caught her staring at it for a solid minute.

"You’re definitely a sour candy person," you said as she tosses it into the basket.

Ellie shrugged, cheeks pink. "You're saying that like it’s a bad thing."

You shook your head. "No, just… makes sense."

"Yeah?"

"Yep," you said softly, smiling. "It’s cute."

She froze. Didn’t say anything for five seconds. Then muttered a very quiet, 'Oh.' You pretended not to notice how red her ears go.

BACK AT YOUR apartment, it took about eight minutes to screw in the new bulb—and then you were both just… standing in your now-lit bedroom, staring at the glow like you’ve just witnessed a miracle.

"Let there be light," Ellie said reverently.

You laughed and flopped back onto your mattress dramatically. "I owe you my life."

She leaned against the doorway, hands in her hoodie pocket, watching you with the kind of soft smile she probably doesn’t even realize she’s wearing. "You don’t owe me anything."

You glanced at the clock. "You hungry?"

Ellie paused. "Me?"

"No, the bookshelf." You smirked. "Of course you, dummy. C’mon. I’m starving. And you did save my spine."

She tried to brush it off with a joke—'I do take payment in pepperoni'—but you could tell she was secretly thrilled.

Twenty-five minutes later, a pizza box was open between you on the living room floor, two paper plates balancing precariously on a stack of books. You’d strung up some fairy lights that Ellie offered to 'totally not judge you for owning,' and now the room is bathed in warm, flickering gold.

You were sitting cross-legged, a slice in hand. "God, I didn’t realize how hungry I was."

Ellie smiled behind her cup of soda. "You looked like you were gonna pass out when I showed up earlier."

"Honestly? Close."

There was a pause. She glanced at you, then down at her food, then back at you. "I’m glad you let me help," she says.

"Yeah?"

She nods, playing with a corner of the box. “I don’t… really do that. Talk to people, I mean. Not right away. But you’re… easy."

You rose an eyebrow, smirking. "Easy?"

"I mean—you’re easy to talk to,” she blurted. "Not like—not in a bad way. You just—shit. That sounded wrong."

You burst out laughing. "Relax. I know what you meant."

She groaned into her hands. "Kill me."

"Never," you laughed. There’s a lull after that. A comfortable one.

You leaned back on your hands, stretching your legs out toward her. "So what’s your story, Neighbor Ellie? Mysterious girl across the hall. Fixes furniture. Gives rides. Loves sour candy."

She gave you a look. "You clocked all that in one night?"

"I’m a fast learner."

She exhaled a laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. "Okay, well. I moved here a couple years ago. Work in a CD store. Play guitar in my free time. Live a thrilling life of talking to no one and watching horror movies until 2 AM."

"Wow," you deadpanned. "Truly a menace."

She smirked. "I contain multitudes."

You nudged her leg with your foot. "I think you’re cool."

Ellie went so quiet after that you worry you went too far. But then she said, soft: "I think you’re pretty cool too."

Neither of you moved for a second. The pizza was getting cold, the lights were flickering softly. She was staring at you like you hung the stars, and your heart’s doing something very inconvenient in your chest.

IT WASN’T HARD TO figure out where Ellie worked. Not like you stalked her or anything—she just... mentioned it. Casually. In passing. And it stuck with you, that offhand comment about shifts and sorting and 'old people complaining about the price of CDS like it’s 1985.'

And okay, maybe you were a little too curious. Maybe you had a free day and a really good memory. And maybe there weren’t that many record stores in town to begin with.

You checked out the first shop—a dusty little place with an impressive jazz section and a guy behind the counter who looked old enough to have invented jazz. No Ellie. The second one was sleek and modern, curated for aesthetic Instagram posts, with alphabetized playlists and diffused lighting. Also, no Ellie. But the third one… That’s where you saw her.

She was behind the counter, alone, hunched over a small stack of CDs, scribbling something onto tiny sticky notes with a black pen clutched between ink-smudged fingers. Her hair was tied up in a low bun, loose strands falling into her face as she worked. She was mouthing the words to whatever track was playing overhead—some soft, rock ballad you didn’t recognize—but it made the whole place feel hushed, intimate, like stepping into someone’s favorite memory.

You stood near the entrance for a second too long.

Ellie glanced up and froze. Her pen paused mid-word. You caught the brief flicker of surprise on her face—like she wasn’t expecting to ever see you here, like this part of her life was separate and you’d somehow wandered past the invisible boundary.

But then her expression shifted, softening into something unreadable. The corners of her mouth twitched like she was trying to decide whether to smile or run.

She settled on a weird middle ground. "Oh," she said nonchalantly. "Hey."

You raised a hand, suddenly hyper-aware of your own body, your posture, the fact that you hadn’t really thought through what you’d say when this moment came. "Hey. Fancy seeing you here."

Ellie blinked. "In my place of work?"

You laughed, and she smiled for real this time. "Right. I was just... exploring the neighborhood," you lied. "Didn’t realize this store was so close."

She nodded slowly, clearly not buying it—the store was a twenty-minute drive from the apartment complex— but was too polite to call you out. "Yeah? You into CDs?"

"Definitely," you said, scanning the shelves like you weren’t about to have a heart attack. "I mean, I personally prefer vinyls, but yeah, CDs are like, super retro. Very... round."

Ellie snorted. "That’s one way to describe them."

You wandered closer, pretending to browse, your fingers grazing the spines of old cases. She watched you, but not in a judgmental way. More like she was trying to figure you out.

"Do you work every day?" you asked after a moment.

"Nah," she said, leaning on the counter. "Just a few days a week. Tuesdays, Thursdays, sometimes Saturdays."

You nodded like that wasn’t valuable information now burned into your brain. You grabbed a Fleetwod Mac CD, and took out your wallet to pay. "Cool," you said. "Guess I’ll have to stop by again."

"No, uh, don’t worry. It’s on the house." Ellie scratched the back of her neck, eyes darting to her Casio watch. "You, uh... wanna hang out after I’m done? My shift ends at five."

"You sure?"

"You don’t have to. I just thought—I dunno, maybe we could go get coffee. Or you could show me your superior taste in 'very round CDs.'"

You grinned. "I’d like that."

Ellie looked down, then back up through her lashes. "Cool. Yeah. Cool."

You ended up spending the next half hour pretending to look through racks while sneaking glances at her—and she, in return, kept stealing glances at you in the reflection of the display glass. And when five o’clock finally rolled around, she practically flew out from behind the counter, tugging on her jacket and fumbling with the sleeves like she was nervous. Which, honestly, made two of you.

THE COFFEE SHOP Ellie picked was small, local, and mostly empty by the time you both got there—quiet enough that your conversation didn’t have to compete with the noise, but not so silent that the pauses felt heavy. The barista gave Ellie a little nod when she walked in, like she was a regular, and Ellie just muttered a soft 'hey' back before holding the door open for you.

You sat by the window, your cups warming your hands, and the conversation came easier than you thought it would. Ellie was shy, yeah, but not in that way where she tried to disappear. It was more like she was deliberate. Careful. She listened to you like you were saying things worth remembering.

She told you about the weird guy who always came in looking for jazz CDs they didn’t have, and how she’d once spent two hours reorganizing the punk section just because she couldn’t stand the way someone else had done it. You talked about the move, the disaster of trying to assemble your own bookshelf, and the apartment above yours that sounded like a zoo with a drum set.

Ellie laughed at that one, and you caught yourself staring just a little too long at the way her eyes crinkled when she did it. You suddenly felt the urge to count every single freckle that was marked in her face.

Somewhere between a refill and a shared chocolate chip cookie, she glanced at the clock and said, "Wanna come over?"

"To your place?"

She scratched at the back of her neck. "I mean, only if you want. No pressure. I just—I have this CD collection I was talking about and, uh... coffee shops close eventually."

You tried not to smile too obviously. "Sure. I’d love to."

Ellie’s apartment was quite similar to yours—after all, both were from the same block, but something about it was undeniably her. The couch was beat-up but clean, the walls were decorated with band posters and a couple of hand-drawn sketches you didn’t ask about yet, and her windowsill had a few neglected plants that were somehow still alive.

"I wasn’t really expecting company," she said, kicking off her shoes near the door. "Sorry if it’s a little... messy."

You looked around. "Ellie, this is better than mine by far."

She shrugged, clearly flustered, and motioned for you to take a seat while she made herself busy putting on a playlist— just background enough to not distract from her own nervous energy. With your drink still in hand, you wandered to the shelf near the TV, running your finger along the neatly organized spines of her CD collection. "So this is the shrine."

"Hey, don’t mock the shrine," she said, coming to stand beside you. "It’s got history."

You glanced at the rows and rows of titles—some familiar, others completely new to you. "What’s your holy trinity, then?"

She paused, seriously considering it. "Green Day, Radiohead, and—don’t laugh—The Smashing Pumpkins."

You blinked. "Why would I laugh?"

"I dunno. People always think I’m gonna say something cooler. Nirvana or something."

You smiled. "I think that is cool."

Ellie ducked her head and muttered, "Yeah, well... you look cool, so I’m trusting your judgment."

You turned toward her, and right as you opened your mouth to say something, you felt it—a warm splash of beverage sloshing right onto your top. You looked down at the spreading stain and groaned. "Oh my god. I can’t take me anywhere."

Ellie reacted fast, already rummaging through a basket of laundry near the couch. "Wait—here. I, uh, I’ve got something you can wear."

She tossed you a hoodie, worn and soft and a little big. The same one she wore the first time she saw you. You pulled it on without thinking—slightly mortified, and very aware of how it smelled exactly like her. It was stupid. It was just detergent and something like cedar and maybe... her shampoo? But it hit you like a memory you hadn’t made yet, and when you looked back at Ellie, she was definitely flustered.

"You okay?" she asked, voice a little tight.

You nodded, tugging at the sleeves. "This is so comfy. You might never get it back."

Ellie laughed nervously. "That’s, uh... fine. You look good in it."

The sentence hung between you for a beat too long. You turned back to the CDs. "Show me your favorites."

And she did.

You sat cross-legged on her living room floor while she pulled out album after album, fingers brushing the covers like they were sacred texts. Time slipped away. The music got quieter, the light outside faded to black, and before either of you realized it, the clock on her microwave blinked 1:04 AM.

"Oh shit," Ellie said, glancing over. "You’re probably exhausted. I didn’t mean to keep you here so long."

You rubbed your eyes, yawning. "I am tired. But like, in a good way. I had fun."

Ellie stood awkwardly, hovering near the door. "Do you want me to walk you back?”

"It’s literally ten steps ahead."

"Still," she muttered, fidgeting with her fingers.

There was a weird, sudden stillness. Not uncomfortable exactly—just... charged. Like you’d both walked to the edge of something without realizing it, and now neither of you knew what to do. You stood in the doorway, Ellie’s hoodie still wrapped around you, warm from her and too soft to take off just yet.

"I should go," you said.

"Okay," Ellie agreed, voice quiet.

You could feel it—just beneath the surface—the shared, unspoken thing you both wanted. The maybe. The what if. But neither of you crossed the line.

Instead, you gave her a soft smile and a breathy 'goodnight,' and Ellie rubbed the back of her neck and murmured it back. When the door finally closed behind you, your heart thudded like you’d just run a mile.

Back in your apartment, you curled into the matress that laid on the floor, still wearing her hoodie, surrounded by the quiet hum of the night, and told yourself you were fine. That you’d get another chance. You didn’t know Ellie was sitting on the other side of the wall, wide awake, hoodie-less, and thinking the exact same thing.

THE NEXT MORNING, you woke slowly. And the first thing that you felt was Ellie’s hoodie. Still wrapped around you. Still warm in the chest, even if the sleeves were cold now. You’d never meant to fall asleep in it, but you hadn’t been able to make yourself take it off either. Not when it still smelled like her. Not when it felt like the last piece of her you got to keep before things got too real. Before either of you dared to name what last night had almost been.

You sat up, groaning at the way your spine protested after crashing half-sideways across your bare mattress. One arm still tucked under a throw pillow, hair wild with sleep. You ran your hand through it and stretched—and that’s when you heard the voices. Muffled at first. Laughter. Two people in the hallway, maybe just outside your door. You froze.

One of them was Ellie. You’d recognize her voice anywhere by now. That low rasp that turned warm when she laughed. And she was laughing—louder than you’d heard her in days. And the other voice? Feminine. Confident. Light and teasing.

You moved quietly, barefoot on the wooden floor, hoodie still draped over your frame like a second skin. You opened your apartment’s door just enough to let sound bleed in, and curiosity got the better of you. Just a peek, you told yourself.

You leaned into the silence of your own apartment, looking at the hall. And there she was. Ellie. Hair still damp from a shower, in a flannel over a gray tee and those dirty Converse she always stomped around in. She looked so relaxed, so casual—leaning against the stair railing, grinning in a way she never quite had with you. Her hand came up to push her hair out of her face, and she was looking at the girl beside her. Dark hair pulled into a high ponytail. Pretty. Effortless. Golden skin and a wicked smile and that kind of magnetic energy you’d always admired from a distance. She looked like someone who knew how to charm your mom and talk about records without ever trying too hard. The kind of girl who just fit.

She playfully shoved Ellie’s shoulder and said something that made them both burst into another fit of laughter. And your heart sank. Of course. Of course Ellie wasn’t single. What were you thinking? That someone like her—funny, sweet, handy, effortlessly cool—would just be floating around, unattached? That she'd invite you over, lend you her hoodie, stay up talking music with you ‘til one in the morning because she wanted something more? No. You’d misread it. All of it. You closed the door quietly.

Your face felt hot. Your eyes threatened to let out a couple of tears. You slipped the hoodie off and folded it, hands trembling just slightly, and placed it gently on the edge of the couch like it might burn you if you touched it for too long. Like it had just become hers again, not something you were allowed to keep holding.

And then you started getting ready. Quieter than usual. Slower. You told yourself you’d imagined it. That it didn’t matter. That it was fine. You’d just… back off. Respect the boundary you hadn’t realized existed.

Ellie noticed something was off that same day. No music playing. No lights on. Not even the faint sound of footsteps inside like usual. The little signs she’d come to expect over the past few days—gone. And the worst of all? You hadn’t texted her.

She bit the inside of her cheek as she walked down the street, bag slung over one shoulder, thumb hovering over your contact in her phone. She kept replaying last night over and over again in her head—the way you looked in her hoodie, how you smiled at her dumb music rants, how close your knees had been on the floor, how you hadn’t kissed her when you left. And how she hadn’t kissed you either. Too nervous. Too wrapped up in the fear of ruining something before it even started.

She walked into the shop, tossed her bag behind the counter, and barely had time to clock in before Jesse—her coworker, and unfortunately, her most observant friend—poked his head in from the back room. "Yo, Williams."

"What."

"You got the personality of a wet sock today. Did something happen?"

Ellie groaned. "I’m fine."

"What the fuck? You’re not. You sighed seven times during that one sentence. That’s a record, even for you."

She pulled the stool out and sat down behind the register, slumping dramatically. "It’s nothing."

Jesse raised a brow. "Is it about hoodie girl?"

Ellie snapped her head up. "What? How do you—"

"You literally texted me last night 'she’s wearing my hoodie and I might die.'"

"Okay first of all, fuck you. And second, I was emotionally compromised."

Jesse leaned on the counter, smirking. "So what happened?"

Ellie looked down, fiddling with the string of her hoodie. "I don’t know. We hung out, it was great—like, really great—and I thought we were gonna maybe... kiss or something? But then she left, and now she’s just—cold. Like, totally ignoring me."

"She see you with Dina?"

Ellie’s brows furrowed. “What?”

"Dee told me she went to pick up her speaker this morning. Maybe she saw you two together."

Ellie’s jaw dropped. "She thinks I’m dating Dina?"

Jesse just gave her a look. "Wouldn’t be the wildest assumption, dude. Dina is hot. And you two always look cozy as hell."

Ellie slumped back in the stool. "Shit."

"So go tell her." Jesse folded his arms. "Like, right now."

"I can’t just show up and be like 'Hey, by the way, that girl I was laughing with? Not my girlfriend!'"

"Why not?"

"Because it’s—" Ellie rubbed her face. "I don’t know, it’s embarrassing. What if she didn’t see me with Dina? What if I read everything wrong? What if she’s not into me like that?"

Jesse tilted his head. "Are you into her like that?"

Ellie didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. He smiled. "Then fix it, you idiot."

But Ellie just sat there, heart caught somewhere between hope and dread, wondering how the hell she was supposed to explain the mess when you wouldn’t even look at her anymore.

FOR THE REST of the week, you did your best to act like everything was fine.

Avoiding Ellie wasn’t hard, exactly. Not at first. You slipped out early to grab coffee before she left for work. And you told yourself—again and again—that it didn’t hurt. That you weren’t letting your mind wander back to the way she’d smiled at you in her dim little apartment, the way her voice had gone all soft and reverent when she’d talked about her guitar and her favorite bands. That you weren’t still thinking about her hoodie, folded on your couch like something sacred, something almost yours.

But even so… you missed her. And she noticed. She wasn’t stupid, either. Every time Ellie walked past your apartment, her chest tightened just a little. She couldn’t stop checking—subtle little glances at your windows, your doormat, listening for footsteps inside. But she was met with nothing, just pure silence.

It had been nine days. Nine days since your almost-date. Since you wore her hoodie and sat so close she could smell your shampoo. Since you’d yawned around midnight and she’d practically panicked, blurting something awkward about how you didn’t have to go but also yeah totally if you’re tired cool cool yeah no worries. And she hadn’t even walked you to your place. Just stood there, heart in her throat, as you smiled at her one last time without kissing her. Now you didn’t even look at her. And Ellie? Ellie didn’t know how to fix it.

That evening, a thunderstorm rolled in with no warning. It was more chilly than you expected, and by the time you realized, Ellie’s hoddie was back like a second skin. You tried to lie to yourself, thinking you were too tired to open the winter clothes box. But in reality, it was just to feel it again. You’d tried to settle into a book, when the lights suddenly flickered… and then went out. You sat in stunned silence for a beat before peeking out your window and confirmed what you feared—the whole damn block was dark. Not a gleam streetlamp in sight.

And the worst part? You didn’t have a single candle. So you were swallowed by black-pitched darkness. You were just settled back onto your couch, the book long forgotten by now, when someone knocked. A soft, tentative knock. You froze. And then came her voice.

"Hey… It’s Ellie."

Your heart did a little jump, stupid and immediate. You stood slowly, suddenly all too aware of your pajama shorts and the way your hair had half-dried in soft, tangled waves.

You opened the door. Ellie stood there holding two thick candles—one already lit, the other one tucked under her arm—and a slightly sheepish expression. She was wearing a red flannel, straight jeans, and a pair of black Converse. Her hair was tucked messily behind her ears, her freckles barely visible in the low light.

"Power’s out," she said.

"Yeah. I noticed."

She shifted her weight, and if she had noticed you wearing her hoodie, she chose not to say anything. "Thought you might need these."

You took the candles from her slowly, your fingers brushing hers in the exchange. Her hand was warm. You swallowed. "Thanks."

Ellie nodded, but didn’t move. She glanced into your apartment and then back at you, chewing the inside of her cheek. "You okay?" she asked. "You’ve been, uh, quiet lately."

You hesitated, trying to ignore the knot isnide your chest. She had noticed. Your heart beat against your ribs, stubborn and tired. "Yeah. I’m fine."

A pause. "You’ve been avoiding me."

Your breath caught as you looked away. "No, I haven’t."

Ellie tilted her head, gently, like she knew you were lying. "Okay. Cool, then."

"Do you wanna come in?" You mumbled, stepping back. Fuck. Why’d you even said that?

She bit the inside of her cheek. "Only if it’s okay."

You nodded once. "Yes. It’s okay." So she stepped in.

The candlelight made everything feel hazier, slower. Her shadow danced across your floor as she walked toward your living room and stood awkwardly near your bookshelf, hands shoved into her hoodie pocket. You followed her in, set the candles on the table, and sat.

Ellie sat too—but not too close. She glanced around, then down at her lap.

"I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable," she said finally, voice soft. "The other day. At my place."

"You didn’t," you said too quickly. She looked up. You wrung your hands in your lap. "I just… It was silly for me to misread the situation, I guess."

Ellie blinked, then blinked again. "What do you mean?"

You gave her a look. "You know. I saw you with the girl... friend."

Realization dawned on her face. "Dina?"

You didn’t answer. Great. She had a pretty name too.

Ellie let out a breath and leaned back. "She’s not my girlfriend. She’s—God—she’s like my sister. We’ve known each other since middle school. We were talking about Uncharted."

That made you look at her. "Uncharted?"

"Yeah, she was making fun of me for being obsessed with it, and playing the stupid game the whole night. It wasn’t flirting."

A small laugh broke out of you before you could stop it, quick and surprised. Ellie smiled—just a little. And then the room got quiet again. That flickering, charged quiet where neither of you really knew what to say next.

Until Ellie whispered, "You look really good in my hoodie."

You swallowed hard, but didn’t answer. Ellie’s gaze flicked to yours. Her cheeks were flushed, soft pink in the candlelight, but smiled anyway.

"I thought maybe you were gonna kiss me," she murmured.

You felt your whole face go warm. "I wanted to."

She blinked slowly. "Then why didn’t you?"

"I got scared."

Ellie’s voice was barely above a whisper. "Me too."

You looked at her then. She looked nervous, her knee bouncing like she couldn’t sit still. She was leaning in just a little—but not enough. Like she was halfway between running and staying. And then she said it, "can I try again?"

Your breath caught. You nodded once, biting your lower lip unconsciously. And this time, she leaned all the way in, her hands finding your cheeks. The kiss was soft, shy, and barely there—like both of you were scared it would vanish if you moved too fast. But then she pressed in a little closer, and your hand slid gently to her cheek, and she smiled against your mouth.

And when you pulled back, her forehead rested against yours. In the flickering candlelight, everything else faded. No hallway whispers. No misunderstandings. Just Ellie. Warm and nervous and real.

THE MORNING SUN peeked in lazily through Ellie’s half-drawn curtains. The green-eyed girl had been working her ass off last week, and still pleaded you to wake her up once you did, but you weren’t going to do it. She needed the sleep. So here you were now, bleary-eyed, standing barefoot in her kitchen and wearing Ellie’s Pink Floyd oversized shirt.

You were trying to figure out the ancient coffee machine she kept saying 'wasn’t that bad' when you heard the apartment door creak open. No knock. No announcement. Just a solid, casual entrance. You froze with one hand on your chest, wide-eyed.

"Ellie, if you’re gonna leave your damn wrench where I can trip over it, I swear to—"

You turned just in time for him to round the corner into the living room, carrying a paper bag and squinting toward the kitchen. He paused when he saw you. His eyes dropped to the oversized shirt, the unbrushed hair, your whole deer-in-headlights vibe. His brow lifted—just slightly—but it said everything. "Well," he said slowly, adjusting the grip on the bag, "you ain’t Ellie."

You cleared your throat. "Um—no. She’s still asleep. I think. Probably."

The man stared at you for another long beat, then sighed through his nose and gave a slow, skeptical nod. "Right."

And just like that, Ellie burst out of her room, hair a mess, wearing a tank top, some boxers and a mismatched pair of socks, looking completely and utterly disoriented.

"Oh—shit," she groaned, voice thick with sleep. "Joel. What—uh—what are you—what time is it?"

Joel raised the bag. "Brought you breakfast. And coffee. Thought I’d surprise you. Guess you beat me to it."

Your face was probably nuclear at that point. Ellie looked like she might combust from within. Joel’s gaze shifted between the two of you. He let out a grunt. "Well. I’ll be damned."

"I’m gonna—uh—bathroom. I’m gonna use it. Yours," you muttered, already halfway down the corridor. "Yep. Bathroom. Gone." You shut the door behind you and leaned against it, hand covering your face.

Out in the living room, there was a heavy pause.

"So," Joel began, in a voice that could only mean trouble, "you finally got your head outta your ass."

"Dude. Please." Ellie rubbed a hand over her face. "She’s not— I mean—we’re not, like… together together."

Joel arched a brow. "Does she know that? ‘Cause she’s wearin’ half your closet and looked quite comfortable in your kitchen."

Ellie’s mouth opened and closed. No response. No correction. Joel nodded to himself. "Didn’t think so."

"I didn’t say anything!" Ellie hissed, lowering her voice like you might somehow hear through the closed door.

"But you ain’t denying it either, kiddo." Joel said smugly. "Look, I’m not gonna give you the whole dad speech or... whatever. You’re grown. But if that girl’s gonna be hangin’ around, I expect you to treat her right. Like how I raised you. No ghostin’. No weird mind games. No—"

Ellie sputtered. "Jesus, Joel, can you not?"

"You like her or not?" He asked calmly.

She was quiet for a long beat. "…Yeah," she said, voice soft and barely audible.

Joel grunted, satisfied. "Then don’t be an idiot."

The bathroom door creaked open a second later. You emerged, trying your best to look composed despite the fact your heart was definitely doing somersaults.

Joel glanced between the two of you, and his face softened for just a second—like he was genuinely happy for Ellie. "Well," he said. "I should get goin’. You kids behave."

Ellie groaned, already anticipating some parting remark. "Don’t say it—"

Joel ignored her entirely, giving you a quick, amused glance. "Good luck dealin’ with this one," he said, jerking a thumb at Ellie like she wasn’t standing right there. "And bon appétit."

You grinned. "Thanks for the breakfast."

"Take care," Joel said with a wink, then stepped out the door and closed it behind him with a soft click.

A moment of silence settled over the apartment. You turned slowly to face Ellie, arms crossed, squinting with faux betrayal. "You. Nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Me?" Ellie blinked, slightly offended. "What?"

"Don’t 'what' me, Williams," you said, marching toward her dramatically. "Your dad, or whatever he is—just walks in like he owns the place and finds me in your shirt, barefoot and barely awake, making a fool of myself trying to work that prehistoric coffee machine—"

"You mean the beautifully vintage coffee machine?" she interjected, raising a hand in mock offense.

You shoved her shoulder gently. "Don’t deflect! I looked like I had just rolled out of bed after a one-night stand!"

Ellie choked. "You didn’t! You—you look cute."

Your brain short-circuited at that for half a second, but you rallied. "I was wearing your clothes, Ellie!"

"I didn’t tell you to wear my clothes!" she argued, but her voice was breathless, half-laughing. "And you do look cute!"

You shoved her again, this time with both hands, and she stumbled backward into the couch, grinning as she caught herself.

"Oh, okay, so it’s my fault," she said, recovering. "Next time, I’ll just let you walk around naked. Note taken."

"You didn’t even try to explain!" you pointed out, still feigning dramatic offense.

Ellie held her hands up in surrender, though her face and ears were red. "Okay, okay, you’re right! I panicked!"

"You liked it," you accused.

"I did not—!" Ellie protested, but she was laughing mid-sentence. "Okay—maybe. Maybe a little. It was kinda… nice. I mean, not the surprise Joel part. That part sucked."

You hovered above her where she’d half-sunk into the couch cushions, breathless from all the mock fighting, face flushed. The laughter slowed between you both.

"It was nice," you echoed, voice soft now. "Him thinking I was your girlfriend."

Ellie looked up at you, suddenly quiet, her grin faded into something gentler, something almost vulnerable. "You didn’t run away screaming, so… that’s something."

You dropped your gaze, fighting a shy smile. "I thought about it. Then I remembered I still have your hoodie, and you’d probably come after me."

Ellie sat up a little straighter, nudging your knee with hers. "Damn right I would’ve. It’s one of my favorites, you know."

"You’re unbelievable."

"But charming," she added hopefully.

You tilted your head like you were thinking it over. "Eh. You’re on thin ice."

She reached over and poked your side, making you squirm. "I brought you breakfast."

"That was mostly Joel." You finally let yourself smile fully, sitting beside her and tucking your legs underneath you, shoulder brushing hers.

"But I didn’t stop him," she said proudly. "You’re welcome."

You laughed again, leaning your head on her shoulder without thinking. It just felt natural. Warm. Safe.

Her voice was softer now, almost a whisper: "You can… stay. If you want. A little longer. You don’t have to rush back."

You didn’t lift your head. "You sure? I might steal more of your clothes."

"I’d let you," she mumbled. Then, like it was the easiest thing in the world, she added, "they look better on you anyway."

Your heart flipped. "God," you murmured, eyes closing, "you’re such a loser."

"Yours though," she said under her breath.

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[skywalkerslvt]

Pierced-Ellie Williams x AFAB!Reader

❥Pairing: loser!Ellie Williams x AFAB!Reader

❥Summary: After playing two truths and a lie with your best friend ellie, you reveal you have secret piercings. things ensue...

❥CW: smut, nipple play, reader has nipple piercings, fingering, oral sex (reader receiving), tribbing, ellie is a bit of a nervous loser in the beginning, top ellie, reader is sorta a power bottom, 4.2k words

❥a/n: This was supposed to be a really short fic but i went crazy (horny) and wrote all of this lmfao. hope u enjoy! <3 pics are from pinterest

The basement was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from a flickering lamp in the corner and the soft glow of the streetlights seeping through a small, grime-covered window. You could hear the muffled hum of the world outside, distant enough to feel like you were the only two people left in the world. The scent of old wood and dust filled the air, mixing with the sharp tang of alcohol from the half-empty bottle of whiskey resting between you and Ellie.

Ellie was leaning back against the basement couch, cheeks flushed and eyes hazy from the booze. You both were sprawled out on the floor, legs tangled as you reached for the bottle once again. Laughter bounced off the walls as Ellie threw her hands up in defeat.

“You're really bad at this game,” you teased, shifting a little closer to her. “But hey, maybe you'll catch me in a lie this time.”

Ellie cleared her throat, her nervous energy spilling over as she sat up straighter. “Oh, yeah, for sure. I got you this time,” she mumbled, rubbing the back of her neck like she always did when she was flustered.

You smirked, knowing exactly how to make her squirm. “Alright, here goes. I've broken my arm twice, I can speak a bit of French, and… two years ago, I got nipple piercings that no one knows about.”

Ellie's face went bright red, her hand freezing halfway to the bottle. She blinked at you, then laughed nervously. “Wait, what?”

You leaned in slightly, watching her face closely as you spoke. “You heard me. Nipple piercings. Two years ago.” You let the words hang there, watching as Ellie shifted awkwardly, her gaze quickly darting to your chest before settling on your eyes.

“Th-that's gotta be the lie,” Ellie stammered, clearly flustered as she fidgeted with the label on the whiskey bottle. “Right? I mean, I…you wouldn't…would you?”

You gave her a sly smile, brushing your leg against hers just enough to get her attention. "Guess you'll have to figure that out, huh?"

Ellie swallowed hard, her cheeks burning as she tried to come up with something witty in response, but all she managed was an awkward laugh. "I mean... y-you're messing with me, right?"

You leaned back, letting your gaze linger on her for a moment longer than necessary. "Maybe I am," you said with a shrug. "Or maybe you just don't know me as well as you think you do."

Ellie looked like she was about to implode, her mind racing a mile a minute, trying to figure out if you were hitting on her or just playing the game. You could see it written all over her face—the nervousness, the uncertainty—and it only made you grin wider. She had no idea how into her you really were, and it was almost too fun watching her try to piece it together.

Ellie shifted nervously, clearly out of her element as her eyes flicked between you and the bottle, as if it might give her some kind of answer.

“Is that your final guess?” you asked, leaning in, your voice teasing as you watched her squirm.

Ellie swallowed hard, her mouth dry. “Yeah… yeah, that’s my final guess. The piercings, they’ve got to be the lie,” she said, but there was hesitation in her voice, like she wasn’t quite convinced.

You smirked, biting back a laugh. “Wrong.”

Ellie’s eyes went wide, her face an even deeper shade of red. “What? No way. You’re messing with me.”

“Nope.” You shrugged, acting casual as you leaned back. “That was a truth.”

Ellie blinked, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “There’s no way. You’re just messing with me to screw me up. I don’t believe you.”

You leaned in, your voice dropping to a seductive whisper. “You wanna check for yourself?”

Ellie’s eyes went impossibly wider, her throat bobbing as she swallowed nervously. “I—I… uh, what?” Her voice cracked, and she quickly looked away, fidgeting with the bottle in her lap like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

You couldn’t help but laugh, watching her completely unravel. “Relax, I’m kidding,” you teased, though the glint in your eye said otherwise. “Unless… you really want to know.”

Ellie’s whole face burned, and you could practically hear her heartbeat from where you sat. She stammered, her words falling over themselves. “I—no, I mean—wait, are you actually…”

You bit your lip, amused by how lost she was. “Nah, I’ll just show you. Wouldn’t want you losing sleep over it.”

Before Ellie could stammer out another response, your shirt was over your head and thrown across the room. Her eyes were glued to your chest as you reached back to unclasp your lacy red bra.

Ellie's breath hitched as your bra fell to the floor, revealing the small silver barbells glinting under the flickering light. For a second, she just stared, her mouth slightly open, completely frozen in place. You could see her trying to form words, but nothing came out.

"Believe me now?" you asked, voice teasing as you leaned in, your chest close enough to brush against her arm.

Ellie blinked rapidly, her face bright red, looking like she might pass out from sheer embarrassment. "Holy shit," she muttered under her breath, finally managing to say something, though it sounded more like a dazed confession than an actual response.

You chuckled softly, leaning back just enough to give her some space but still close enough to keep her flustered. "Told you it was the truth."

Ellie's gaze flickered up to meet yours, her expression somewhere between awe and disbelief. "I—I mean... yeah, l believe you now." She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, her usual nervous tic in full force as she fumbled to find the right words. "I just didn't expect you to actually... show me."

You grinned, clearly enjoying the effect you had on her. "Well, I'm not one to back down from a challenge," you said lightly, your voice still laced with that teasing edge.

Ellie let out a nervous laugh, her eyes darting away from you as she tried to regain some composure. "Yeah, uh... challenge. Right." She was flustered beyond belief, and it was almost too cute how lost she looked.

Ellie's eyes were still glued to your chest, her breath shallow and uneven. You could feel the tension between you both, thick and electric in the dimly lit basement. The way she looked at you, completely entranced, sent a thrill through you.

"You can touch them if you want," you said softly, the invitation hanging in the air between you.

Ellie's head jerked up, her eyes wide and unsure. "I-uh, what?" She stammered, clearly caught off guard by your offer.

You smirked, brushing her knee gently with yours. "You heard me."

Ellie swallowed hard, her face burning even brighter. "Does it... does it hurt?"

You shook your head slightly, your voice dropping lower. "It hurt when I first got them, but now..." You leaned in, letting the words roll off your tongue, "...now it just feels good."

Ellie's eyes flickered back to your chest, her hand twitching like she was debating with herself. She hesitated, nervous, her fingers hovering near her lap as if she wasn't sure what to do. You could see the uncertainty in her, but also the undeniable pull.

Sensing her apprehension, you crawled closer to her, swinging your leg over one of her thighs so you could straddle it. "It's okay," you whispered, reassuring her. "I don't bite... unless you want me to."

That seemed to snap something in Ellie. She gave a shaky laugh, her hand finally reaching out, her fingers brushing tentatively over your skin. Her touch was featherlight at first, careful, like she wasn't sure if this was real or not.

"See? Doesn't hurt," you murmured, your voice soothing, though your heart was racing with excitement.

Ellie's fingers, still a little shaky, began to trace the outline of your piercings, her touch growing bolder as she got used to the sensation. You watched her face, the mixture of fascination and nervousness playing across her features. Her thumb brushed against one of the barbells, and you couldn't help the soft gasp that escaped your lips.

Ellie's eyes flickered up to meet yours, her breath catching at the sound. "Did I–was that okay?" she asked, her voice low and breathless, like she couldn't believe what was happening.

You smiled, biting your lip as you nodded. "Yeah, Ellie. That feels good."

Hearing that seemed to give her a little more confidence. She exhaled slowly, her fingers moving with more purpose now, gently rolling one of the piercings between her thumb and forefinger. The sensation sent a spark of pleasure through you, your body reacting to her touch in ways you knew she couldn't miss.

Her other hand hesitantly joined in, tracing the other barbell, her eyes locked on yours as if she was watching your every reaction, unsure but so eager to please. You could feel your heartbeat quicken, the warmth of her hands sending waves of heat through your body.

"Does this...feel good?" Ellie's voice was a low rasp, her own face flushed, eyes wide with anticipation.

"It feels really good," you whispered, your voice heavy with the tension between you. You arched your back slightly, pressing into her touch as her hands grew more confident, playing with your piercings in a way that had your breath hitching.

Ellie swallowed hard, her gaze dipping to your chest again as her hands continued to explore, experimenting with different pressures, watching your reactions closely. Her nervous energy was still there, but there was something more-something hungry in the way her touch lingered now, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife.

You could feel her pulse racing, her breath hot and shallow as her fingers tugged gently at the piercings, testing the waters. Every touch sent shivers down your spine, your skin alive under her hands. You leaned in, lips brushing her ear as you whispered, "You're doing so good, Ellie."

Her breath hitched at your words, and she stifled a groan as her hands moved more boldly now, her fingers teasing and pulling in a way that had your body arching toward her, craving more of her touch.

The air between you was electric, the playful teasing long forgotten, replaced by something far more intense. Ellie's lips parted, her breath coming in ragged bursts as she leaned in closer, her body pressed against yours, her hands still playing with your piercings like she couldn't get enough.

Ellie's hands were still moving over your chest, her touch growing more assured with each passing second, but there was still a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. She swallowed, clearly trying to steady herself before she spoke again. Her voice was barely a whisper, thick with uncertainty and need. "Can I... can I try with... my mouth?"

You felt a surge of heat wash over you at her request, her shy stammer only adding to the electric charge between you. "Yeah," you breathed, your voice soft but encouraging as you straddled her thigh, the fabric of her jeans pressing between your legs as you ground down slightly. "Go ahead, Ellie."

Her gaze flickered up to yours, a mixture of nerves and excitement, before she leaned in. Her lips hovered just above your skin for a moment, as if she was gathering the courage, and then you felt the soft brush of her mouth against your nipple. Her tongue flicked out, gently grazing the piercing, and the sensation made your breath hitch.

Ellie's hands settled on your hips, steadying herself–and you–as she grew more confident. Her mouth closed over the sensitive skin, her lips soft but eager as she took one of the piercings into her mouth, tugging gently with her teeth. You couldn't stop the moan that slipped out, your hands instinctively burying themselves in her hair, holding her closer as the pleasure intensified.

At the same time, your hips moved against her thigh, the friction of her jeans sending jolts of pleasure through you with every slow grind. Ellie groaned against your chest, clearly feeling the pressure of your body against her leg, her mouth working more fervently now, her tongue swirling around the piercing before she tugged again, harder this time.

You gasped, your fingers tightening in her hair, your hips pressing down harder on her thigh. "Ellie.." you whispered, your breath coming in shallow pants as the sensations built inside you, a delicious mix of her mouth on your chest and the steady pressure between your legs.

Ellie pulled back for just a second, her lips slick and flushed as she looked up at you. Her eyes were dark with lust, her breath ragged. "Is this... is this good?" she asked, her voice low and strained, like she was trying to hold herself together.

You bit your lip, your head tilting back as another wave of pleasure washed over you. "So good," you murmured, grinding down on her harder, urging her to keep going. "Don't stop."

With a renewed sense of determination, Ellie dove back in, her mouth working over your chest with more confidence, her hands gripping your hips tighter as you rocked against her. Each pull of her lips sent a jolt of pleasure straight through you, mixing with the rhythmic grind of your hips on her thigh. The heat between you was overwhelming, every touch and movement amplifying the tension until it felt like you might explode.

With a sudden surge of confidence, Ellie gripped your hips and gently pushed you back, guiding you to the floor beneath her. You gasped in surprise but quickly surrendered to her touch, your heart racing as you felt the cool floor against your skin.

Her hands moved with purpose, brushing up your thighs as she shifted to hover over you. The flickering lamp cast shadows over her flushed face, illuminating the desire in her eyes. "You okay?" she asked, a hint of uncertainty creeping back into her voice, but it was mixed with a hunger that made your stomach flutter.

"Yeah, Ellie. Just... keep going," you encouraged, feeling a thrill rush through you as her fingers slipped beneath the hem of your skirt, inching higher.

She hesitated for just a moment, her fingers brushing against your skin, and then she boldly lifted your skirt, exposing your thighs. The rush of cool air made you shiver as her fingertips danced closer to where you needed her most.

Ellie hesitated for just a moment before her determination surged back. With a swift motion, she shifted to kneel between your legs, a glint of mischief in her eyes. She leaned in closer, her breath warm against your skin, as she pushed your panties to the side and used her fingers to part you slightly, allowing her to find that sweet spot.

"Can I... try something?" she asked, looking up at you with a mix of eagerness and uncertainty.

"Yeah, please," you urged, your voice barely above a whisper, the heat pooling in your core.

With a teasing smile, Ellie brought her mouth back to your piercing, her tongue swirling around the metal as she simultaneously slid two fingers into you, pushing deeper as she began to stroke your sensitive spot. A gasp escaped your lips, the combination of sensations causing your body to arch instinctively toward her.

"Ellie!" you cried out, the heat of her mouth and the skillful movements of her fingers driving you wild. She watched you closely, her own excitement evident as she felt you tighten around her.

"Just relax," she murmured, her voice vibrating against you as she continued her exploration, her fingers working in and out while her mouth kept teasing your piercings. You could hardly keep still, your hips moving in rhythm with her fingers as waves of pleasure washed over you.

As Ellie continued to work her magic, she shifted her focus, her fingers moving more deliberately to target your clit while her mouth lavished attention on your piercings. The combination of sensations sent shockwaves through your body, making you writhe beneath her.

"Ellie, that feels so good," you gasped, lost in the bliss of her touch.

With every flick of her tongue and stroke of her fingers, the tension inside you built higher, the sweet pressure almost unbearable. "Just let go," Ellie encouraged, her voice low and sultry, her determination evident as she worked tirelessly to bring you to the edge.

And then, with a final flick of her fingers, you shattered, your body arching off the ground as pleasure washed over you in waves. "Ellie!" you cried out, your voice a mixture of ecstasy and disbelief at how incredible it felt.

Ellie didn't waste a second; she licked her fingers clean, a devilish grin spreading across her face. "Fuck, you taste so good baby," she said, her eyes dark with hunger. "I need more."

Before you could respond, she began kissing her way down your body, trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin until she reached your thighs. She quickly removed your skirt and panties, leaving your slick cunt bare before her. Her fingers gripped your hips as she pulled you closer, her breath warm against you as she settled between your legs.

With expert precision, Ellie took her time, her tongue swirling around your clit, teasing and sucking in just the right way. Each movement sent shivers down your spine, your body instinctively responding to her every touch. "Ellie, yes!" you gasped, the sensations quickly building again.

She worked you closer to another peak, her eyes locked on yours, filled with both mischief and desire. You could feel the pressure mounting, a familiar tightening in your core as she expertly brought you to the edge once more.

With one final flick of her tongue, you let go again, your body trembling and shuddering beneath her as another orgasm washed over you. "God, Ellie!" you cried, the intensity leaving you breathless.

Ellie pulled back, wiping her mouth and grinning widely. "You really know how to make a girl happy," she teased, but you could see the need in her eyes, an unspoken desire lingering between you.

"Please," you breathed, your voice a husky whisper, "let me get you off." You could feel the heat pooling in your core again as the idea electrified you.

She looked at you, surprise flickering across her face before it shifted to a playful smirk. "You sure?" she asked, her voice low, excitement dancing in her eyes.

"Absolutely," you replied, determination flooding your veins.

With a swift motion, you shifted positions, settling yourself beside her.

You locked eyes, a silent agreement passing between you as you straddled her thigh, your fingers dancing down her body.

You guided her to open her legs wider, your body buzzing with anticipation. As you began to grind against her, the friction of your bodies sent waves of pleasure radiating between you. "Just like that," Ellie encouraged, her breath hitching as you pressed down against her.

Your movements grew bolder, your hands exploring the curves of her body as you brought your lips to hers, kissing her hungrily. You could feel the heat rising between you, the thrill of the moment igniting every nerve.

"Fuck, you're riding me so good, baby," Ellie rasped, her voice raw with need as her hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements. You ground down against her, the heat between your bodies almost unbearable as your slickness coated her, making each slide of your hips easier, smoother, and more desperate.

The wetness between your thighs mixed with hers, the sensation of your clits brushing together sending shivers through your entire body. Each movement was electric, your hips finding a perfect rhythm as you ground down harder, the friction driving you both wild.

Ellie's hands slid up your sides, rough fingertips grazing your skin before she cupped your breasts. Her thumbs brushed over your nipple piercings again, flicking them just right, making you gasp. "You like that?" she murmured, her voice thick with desire as she tugged gently on the metal, your nipples hardening under her touch.

Your body trembled as you pressed your chest further into her hands, the pleasure shooting through you with every little tug and pinch. Meanwhile, your hips rocked faster, sliding your wetness against hers in perfect rhythm.

The slick sounds of your bodies moving together filled the air, each grind pushing you closer to the edge.

Ellie's hips began bucking up to meet yours, desperate and needy as your clits rubbed together again, sending sparks of pleasure racing through you.

"Fuck, Ellie," you moaned, grinding harder as the pressure between your legs built to an overwhelming peak. You could feel her trembling beneath you, her breath coming in ragged gasps, matching your own.

Your wetness coated her thigh, smearing across both of your bodies as you moved together, the friction just right. Every grind of your hips made your clits brush against each other, the pleasure intensifying with each slick, desperate slide. Ellie groaned beneath you, her hands moving back down to grip your waist, pulling you harder against her.

You could feel her arousal mixing with yours, the heat between you almost unbearable. "God, you feel so fucking good," Ellie groaned, her voice thick with lust as she bucked her hips up to meet yours, the slickness between you making each grind smoother, more desperate.

The tension in your core was building quickly, winding tighter and tighter with every movement. Ellie's fingers dug into your hips, guiding you as you rocked against her, the pressure of your clits rubbing together sending you hurtling toward the edge.

Your body trembled as you leaned forward, bracing yourself on her chest.

Ellie took the opportunity to reach up, tugging at your nipple piercings again, sending sharp pleasure shooting through your body. "I love watching you ride me," she rasped, her voice breathless as she pinched your nipples harder, making you gasp.

The combined sensation of her rough hands on your chest and the relentless friction between your legs was too much. Your hips bucked wildly, grinding down against her as your orgasm slammed into you. "Fuck, Ellie," you cried out, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed through you, your slickness dripping down her thigh as you came.

Ellie groaned, her own body trembling as she watched you fall apart above her, your hips still moving, slower now, but still grinding against her, drawing out every last bit of your release.

As you came down from your high, Ellie's hands moved to your waist again, guiding your hips back into a steady rhythm. You could feel her need, the way her body trembled beneath yours, the slickness between you making it impossible to stop.

You leaned forward, capturing her lips in a heated kiss as your hips started moving again, faster this time, the friction of your clits rubbing together driving both of you wild. "You're so wet," you whispered against her mouth, your breath ragged as you rocked your hips down harder, desperate to feel her come undone beneath you.

Ellie groaned into your mouth, her hands gripping your waist even tighter as she bucked her hips up to meet yours. "Fuck, you feel so good," she gasped, her voice breaking as the pleasure became too much to bear. "Keep going, baby, don't stop."

Your bodies moved together, faster and faster, the slick sound of your wetness mixing with hers filling the room. Every grind of your hips made your clits brush against each other, sending sparks of pleasure through you both. The heat between your thighs was almost unbearable, the need to push her over the edge driving you harder, faster.

Ellie's breath hitched, her body tensing beneath yours as her orgasm built. "I'm so close," she groaned, her voice shaky as her hips bucked up wildly. You could feel her trembling, her body on the verge of release, and you ground down harder, determined to push her over the edge.

With one final grind, Ellie's body tensed, her back arching as she came with a shuddering moan. Her hands gripped your hips so hard it almost hurt, pulling you down against her as her orgasm washed over her, her body trembling beneath yours.

You slowed your movements, rocking gently against her as she came down from her high, her breath ragged and uneven. You pressed your forehead against hers, both of you panting, your bodies slick with sweat and arousal as the last waves of pleasure faded away.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sound in the room your heavy breathing. Then Ellie let out a breathless laugh, pulling you down into a soft, lazy kiss. "Fuck," she whispered, her voice still thick with pleasure. "That was incredible." You smiled against her lips, your body still trembling from the intensity of it all.

"You're pretty incredible yourself," you teased, pressing one last kiss to her lips before collapsing onto the floor beside her, completely spent.

[girlrotterr]

— "𝐿𝛦𝛢𝑉𝛦 𝑊𝐼𝑇𝛨𐒆𝑈𝑇 𝛢 𝑇𝑅𝛢𝐶𝛦."

𝑃𝛢𝐼𝑅𝐼𝛮𝐺: artist!ellie x fashion designer!reader

𝘚𝑌𝛮𐒆𝑃𝘚𝐼𝘚: You attend an art exhibition where you unexpectedly lock eyes with your ex-girlfriend, Ellie Williams, whom you haven't seen in years.

𝛢/𝛮: omg?! not me becoming consistent?! heavily inspired by "no one noticed" by the marias!!

The gallery is a cathedral of silence, punctuated only by the soft clicking of heels against the polished hardwood floor and the low murmur of voices echoing from every corner. The walls are a crisp, sterile white, meant to let the art breathe. But tonight, they seem oppressive, closing in on you as the weight of old memories seep through the cracks of time. You’re standing in the midst of it all, surrounded by strangers who admire Ellie’s work like they’re deciphering some abstract language.

But to you, it’s not abstract. It’s painfully familiar.

Your eyes drift over the crowd, catching fragments of conversation—chatter about technique, boldness, meaning—but they wash over you like background noise. Your mind is elsewhere, pinned in the past.

College felt like a lifetime ago.

It was chaotic, with you balancing late nights in the sewing lab, surrounded by mannequins and fabric swatches, while Ellie lived in the art studio, her hands constantly covered in charcoal, paint, or ink. There had been nights when you’d find her sprawled on the floor, sketching out her wildest ideas with frenzied energy, and you’d sit beside her, watching her create worlds you could only dream of.

Back then, you both were consumed by your passions and each other. She’d stay up late to help you finish a garment, sewing alongside you even though she hated it, just so she could be near. And you? You’d sit in on her critiques, quietly fuming when anyone dared to criticize her work, even though she could take it, even though she loved the fight. The memory of her smirk when she’d dismantle an argument from one of her professors—god, it still lingers.

But the fire that had burned so bright between you had also scorched everything in its path. 

You remember the late-night arguments, when both of you were too stubborn to apologize, too young to realize that passion wasn’t enough to hold everything together. The breakup wasn’t dramatic—no shouting, no tears. Just a slow unraveling, a quiet drifting apart until one day, it was done. She moved on. You moved on. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

The years that followed had been a blur of fashion internships and city lights. You threw yourself into your work, traveling between studios, pouring every ounce of yourself into fabric, stitching your broken pieces into new designs. You hadn’t heard from her since. Not directly, anyway. You’d seen her name float around in the art world, her work gaining traction, and each time, you’d feel a pang of something you couldn’t quite name. Pride? Regret? A mixture of both.

And now, here you are, in her world once again.

Your gaze is drawn to the painting in front of you—a massive, turbulent landscape of violent brushstrokes and bold colors. The reds are fierce, like anger seething just beneath the surface, and the blues are deep, almost suffocating. It’s raw. Emotional. It feels like her. It feels like you. The two of you, tangled in something you couldn’t quite control. You step closer, your breath catching in your throat as you notice the delicate lines etched into the paint—small, subtle marks hidden beneath the chaos. You know those marks. She used to make them with the tip of her palette knife, carving out tiny details that most people wouldn’t notice unless they really looked.

You’re staring so intently at the painting that you almost miss the moment she walks into view.

Ellie.

The air shifts the second she enters your line of sight, like the whole room inhales in unison. Your heart stumbles over itself, beating out of rhythm, as if trying to catch up with the sudden rush of emotions flooding through you. You haven’t seen her in years, but it’s as though no time has passed at all.

She’s changed, but not in ways that feel unfamiliar. Her hair is still short, though it’s more trimed now, less uneven than you remember. She’s wearing that same damn brown jacket, the one she always wore like a second skin, only now it’s more worn, the creases deeper, the edges frayed. Her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows, revealing the tattoo that winds around her forearm— you remember tracing with your fingers in quiet moments. There’s a confidence to her now, a steadiness that wasn’t there before, like she’s found some kind of peace, even if it’s only partial.

But then there’s her eyes. Still that piercing green, sharp enough to cut through glass, or in this case, through the crowd. You watch as she shifts her weight, one foot tapping lightly on the floor, her posture betraying a flicker of unease as she nods absentmindedly to whoever she’s speaking to. Her hands are deep in her pockets, her thumb worrying the edge of the denim, a sign that she’s restless. She used to do that when she didn’t want to be somewhere—when she was lost in thought, in another world entirely. 

You know her. You know her so well that it aches.

And then, as if drawn by some invisible string, her gaze lifts, scans the room, and lands on you.

It’s electric. The second your eyes meet, it’s like the ground shifts beneath you. Time folds in on itself, collapsing the years between you into this one fragile moment. You can see the shock in her expression, the way her brows twitch upward, just barely, before her features settle into something more controlled. But there’s no hiding the way her shoulders stiffen, or the slight parting of her lips like she’s forgotten how to breathe for just a second. 

You’re both standing still, two statues carved in the midst of a gallery filled with movement, but you may as well be the only people in the room. Her green eyes are locked on yours, and for a moment, you swear you see a flicker of something there—something that mirrors the knot of emotions tightening in your chest.

Recognition. Pain. Something unfinished.

You can feel your pulse in your throat, in your wrists, in the way your fingers tremble as you drop your gaze for just a second. When you look back up, she’s still watching you, her expression unreadable, a mask of calm that you know too well. But underneath it—god, you know there’s so much more. Years of silence. Years of things unsaid.

She doesn't move. And neither do you. 

You both just... stand there, holding onto the fragile tension between you like a thread waiting to snap. The air is heavy with what could be—what might’ve been—what still lingers between you like smoke from a fire that never quite burned out.

It’s your sophomore year, late spring. You remember because the air had that soft, electric warmth that made everything feel alive. You were both sitting on the edge of the campus fountain, surrounded by the sound of splashing water, the soft hum of people passing by, and the occasional flutter of birds overhead. Your fashion projects had been spread out between you—loose sketches and fabric samples fluttering in the light breeze—while Ellie’s hands were smeared with charcoal from a half-finished drawing she couldn’t quite get right.

“I don’t get how you do this,” she had muttered, frowning at one of your illustrations. She held it up to the light, squinting as if that would make the delicate lines make more sense. You had laughed, the sound coming out lighter than you’d intended, mostly because of how seriously she was studying your work. Like it was a puzzle she had to solve.

“It’s just fabric,” you’d teased, leaning closer to her to catch a glimpse of her concentrated expression. “You make art out of nothing but feelings—this should be easy for you.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t hide the smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Art out of feelings, huh? That’s one way to put it.”

You watched her for a second longer, your gaze tracing the familiar curve of her jawline, the sharpness of her cheekbones, the way her hair stuck up no matter how much she tried to tame it. There was a smudge of charcoal on her nose that she hadn’t noticed yet. You found yourself leaning in, almost without thinking, using your thumb to wipe it away. The moment your skin touched hers, her body went still—like you’d pressed pause on her every movement.

Her green eyes flicked to yours, and for the first time since you’d met, there was a shift. Something unspoken passed between you, heavy and undeniable, hanging in the air between your breaths. You were close—closer than you usually were. And you could feel the heat radiating off her skin, mixing with the spring warmth, making the space around you feel almost too small.

Ellie cleared her throat, her gaze dropping to your hand still lingering on her face. “You, uh… you didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.”

The words came out before you could stop them. And then the silence stretched out, pulling taut as the world around you blurred and fell away. The distant laughter of students, the splashing water of the fountain—it all melted into the background until the only thing you could focus on was the way Ellie was looking at you.

It wasn’t a stare. It was deeper. Like she was seeing you for the first time, really seeing you.

You didn’t move. Neither of you did. Time slowed, and in that moment, every boundary you’d carefully drawn between friendship and something more started to dissolve. You could hear your heart beating in your ears, your chest tight with anticipation, with something you hadn’t let yourself name before now.

Ellie’s breath hitched, so soft you barely noticed. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that,” she murmured, her voice lower than usual.

“Why not?” Your voice trembled, betraying you.

Her eyes flicked back up to meet yours, and there it was—the thing you’d both been avoiding for months. The truth that had been simmering beneath every shared glance, every brush of hands, every late-night conversation when the rest of the world was asleep and it was just you and her, tangled up in each other’s lives without even realizing how deep it went.

“Because…” she hesitated, biting her lip as if searching for the right words. Her gaze softened, like she was caught in a struggle between fear and wanting. “Because I wouldn’t know how to stop.”

The air left your lungs in a rush, and before you could second-guess yourself, before the doubts and the what-ifs could pull you back, you leaned in.

The kiss was soft, tentative at first. Her lips brushed against yours, the faintest touch, as if she wasn’t sure you were real. But then—god—then she kissed you harder, her hand cupping the back of your neck, pulling you in as though you were the answer to every question she hadn’t known how to ask. Her mouth tasted like spearmint gum and the faintest hint of cigarettes, warm and familiar. You melted into her, your hands gripping the edge of the fountain to keep yourself steady as everything around you spun.

In that kiss, there was no hesitation, no distance. Just the two of you, colliding in a moment that felt like it had been building for a lifetime. Her hands slid up your back, anchoring you to her, and you could feel the slight tremble in her fingers. But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Because you were kissing Ellie, and the rest of the world could’ve disappeared, and you wouldn’t have cared.

When you finally pulled back, gasping for air, you kept your forehead pressed against hers. The world had snapped back into focus around you—the chatter of campus life, the rustle of the wind in the trees—but it felt distant, muted, like it wasn’t quite real. Not compared to this.

Ellie’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked at you like you were the only thing she could see. Her breath was still shaky, her lips swollen and flushed. She swallowed, hard, and whispered, “I… I didn’t mean to… I didn’t…”

But you silenced her with a gentle smile, brushing a thumb across her cheek.

“You don’t have to explain.”

Because you both knew what it meant. You both knew that nothing would be the same after this, and you were okay with it. Maybe you were scared. Maybe she was too. But in that moment, wrapped up in the heat of the afternoon sun and the lingering taste of her on your lips, none of that mattered.

All that mattered was her.

The sound of your name pulls you back to the present. It’s bright and full of life, cutting through the thick haze of tension like a ray of sunlight. You turn just in time to see Dina pushing her way through the crowd, a grin spreading across her face as she practically bounces in your direction.

She’s the same as ever—sharp, effortlessly cool, with a wild energy that always made you feel like you were part of something big just by being near her. Her dark hair, tied up in a messy bun, hasn’t changed a bit, though there’s a new edge to her style—bold patterns clashing in a way only she could pull off.

Before you can even get a word out, she’s enveloping you in a tight hug, squeezing you so hard that you let out a laugh, the tension in your chest easing a little. She smells like lavender and cedarwood, familiar and grounding, and for a brief moment, the knot of emotions tangled in your stomach loosens.

“Oh my god, it’s been forever!” Dina practically yells, pulling back just enough to look at you, her eyes sparkling with genuine excitement. “I didn’t even know you were coming tonight! How the hell are you? You look amazing!”

You’re caught off guard by her energy, her enthusiasm wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You smile, shaking your head as you try to gather your thoughts. “I—yeah, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? I wasn’t sure I’d even make it, but, you know”

Dina snorts, rolling her eyes playfully. “Yeah, tell me about it. But seriously, I’m so glad you’re here! You—” she gestures at you with both hands, eyes wide as if she’s sizing you up, “—still killing it with the whole fashion thing, right? I saw your last collection! so damn chic! The textures, the layering—ugh, I wanted to steal every piece.”

You laugh, feeling a flush of pride at her words. “Thanks, Dina. I’m still trying to figure out what’s next, but I’m glad you liked it.”

“Liked it? Girl, I loved it.” Dina leans in closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I mean, between you and Ellie, the two of you were always the most talented people on campus. It’s wild seeing both of you making it big.”

The mention of Ellie’s name sends a ripple of tension down your spine, and suddenly, the room feels a little too warm again. You glance over Dina’s shoulder, and sure enough, Ellie is still standing there, watching the two of you. 

Dina follows your gaze, and when she spots Ellie, her face lights up even more. “Oh, shit, you haven’t seen her yet, have you?” Dina’s voice drops to a mischievous whisper, her grin widening. “This is gonna be good.”

Before you can protest, before you can even think of what to say or how to brace yourself, Dina’s already calling out, “Ellie! Hey! Get over here!”

Your heart skips a beat, your pulse quickening as Ellie’s eyes flicker to Dina. For a second, she looks like she might hesitate, like the distance between the two of you is a bridge she’s not sure she wants to cross. But then, with a slow exhale, she starts moving, weaving through the crowd with that effortless stride of hers—confident, but never cocky. 

And just like that, she’s standing in front of you.

Up close, the years between you seem even sharper. You can see the slight changes in her face— the way her lips quirk at one corner like she’s fighting a smile but doesn’t want to give in. Her green eyes, though, are as piercing as ever, and when they lock onto yours, you feel that same jolt of electricity you did back in college, the same spark that never really went out.

For a moment, no one says anything. The air is silent with unspoken words, with the history that hangs between you like a thread waiting to snap.

Ellie’s lips part, and she starts with something simple. “Hey.”

Dina, completely oblivious to the tension, claps her hands together with a grin. “Okay, this is weird for me. Two of my favorite people, standing here after all these years—this is like, full circle, right?”

You manage a small smile, though your throat feels tight. “Yeah. Full circle.”

Ellie shifts her weight, glancing at Dina with a wry smile before her gaze slides back to you. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” she says, her voice soft, like she’s trying to keep things light.

You shrug, trying to play it off. “Didn’t expect to be here either.”

But the words feel thin, hollow. Because standing this close to her, with the buzz of the gallery around you and the memories swirling like ghosts in the air, it’s impossible to ignore the truth.

This isn’t just a chance encounter. This is something you’ve both been avoiding for too long.

Dina shifts her weight, a perceptive glint in her eye as she surveys the two of you, the tension thick enough to slice through. She opens her mouth as if to say something—maybe to break the silence, to diffuse the moment—but then she pauses, that playful grin still dancing on her lips.

“Okay, you know what?” she says, clapping her hands together once more. “I just remembered I promised Jesse I’d check on him. He’s probably stuck at the snack table, drowning in mini quiches. So, I’ll be right back!” 

Before you can even respond, she’s off, weaving through the crowd with that effortless grace of hers, leaving you and Ellie standing there, caught in a moment that feels suspended in time. The sounds of the gallery fade into the background—the murmur of conversations, the soft clinking of glasses—until it’s just the two of you.

The silence stretches. 

Ellie shifts her weight again, her fingers fidgeting at her sides. You can see the thoughts racing behind her eyes, a whirlwind of emotions waiting to be unleashed, but the words seem to stick in her throat. 

“So, how’s the show been for you?” you finally ask, trying to fill the space, to ease the tightness that’s creeping in. Your voice sounds a bit steadier than you feel.

Ellie’s gaze softens, and for a moment, the corners of her mouth twitch up into a small, genuine smile. “It’s… good. Better than I expected, honestly.” She glances around, taking in the vibrant colors of her artwork, the way the lights catch the brushstrokes, illuminating the stories behind each piece. “It’s kind of surreal to see it all up here.”

You nod, watching her as she talks. There’s a light in her eyes that flickers with passion. 

“Your work is incredible, Ellie.”

She meets your gaze again, and there’s a flicker of something deeper in her expression—gratitude with a hint of vulnerability.

 “Thanks,” she says, her voice quieter now, almost contemplative. “I’ve been trying to push myself more lately.”

Your heart swells with her words, and the warmth of the moment wraps around you like a comforting embrace. But then, as if sensing the shift in the air, the gallery begins to swell with new energy. The crowd thickens, laughter and chatter rising, and the once-intimate space starts to feel almost claustrophobic.

Ellie’s expression changes slightly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features. “I should probably go check in with some of the other guests,” she says, glancing over her shoulder. “Make sure everything’s okay.”

“Yeah, of course,” you reply, though a part of you aches at the thought of her leaving, of this moment slipping through your fingers like grains of sand.

But before you can say anything else, she steps back, creating a small distance between you. “It was really good to see you,” she says, the words almost swallowed by the hum of the gallery.

You nod, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat. “You too, Ellie..”

It was winter. Cold, biting, the kind of chill that seeped into your bones no matter how many layers you wore. You and Ellie were huddled in her tiny apartment just off campus, the one she’d insisted had “charm” but was really just a glorified box with bad heating. The windows fogged with condensation, and outside, snowflakes drifted lazily down onto the already blanketed streets. Inside, the space was warm and dim, lit by a single lamp in the corner and the flickering glow of a candle Ellie had lit for atmosphere.

But there was no warmth between you that night.

Ellie was pacing. Back and forth, back and forth, her hands running through her hair, tugging at it the way she always did when she was frustrated, on the verge of losing control. Her movements were restless, sharp, filled with an energy that seemed like it would combust if she didn’t do something, say something. She wasn’t looking at you—she hadn’t been able to for the past hour. And you, sitting on the edge of her bed, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, could feel the distance between you growing with every step she took.

“I just… I don’t know how to do this anymore,” she muttered, almost to herself, her voice strained, barely holding together. She stopped pacing for a second, pressing her palms to her forehead, her elbows resting on the back of a chair. “I feel like I’m drowning. Every day, it’s like… like I’m waiting for something to go wrong, and I don’t even know what it is, but I can’t breathe.”

Her words hit you like cold water, but you didn’t move. You couldn’t. You’d been feeling it too, the unraveling, the way everything between you had started to fray at the edges. It wasn’t sudden. It had been slow, creeping in like a shadow you couldn’t outrun. Long nights turned into silent mornings. Conversations that used to be easy, light, now felt like stepping through a minefield. Every fight, every misunderstanding, left scars you hadn’t been able to heal.

But hearing her say it out loud… that made it real.

“Ellie…” Your voice was soft, almost a whisper, like you were afraid of shattering the fragile air between you. “We can fix this. We just need to talk. We always work through things, right?”

She shook her head, her back still turned to you. You could see her shoulders rise and fall as she took a deep breath, as if she was trying to hold it all together. When she finally spoke, her voice was lower, more broken. “Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe we’ve been working through things too much, you know? Like, we keep trying to fix it, but it’s not working.”

You felt your chest tighten, your pulse quickening. The coldness of the room started to creep in, the warmth from the candle and the blankets no longer enough to fight it off. You stood up slowly, your legs shaky, and took a tentative step toward her. “Ellie, please—”

She spun around, and the look in her eyes stopped you in your tracks. They were red, bloodshot, like she hadn’t slept in days. And there was something else there—something raw, something you hadn’t seen before. Desperation, maybe. Or fear.

“I don’t want to keep hurting you,” she said, her voice breaking on the last word. “But that’s all I’ve been doing, isn’t it? Every time we fight, every time I say the wrong thing or don’t say enough… it’s like I’m breaking you apart, piece by piece, and I can’t stand it. I can’t stand being the one who keeps doing this to you.”

Your throat tightened, your eyes stinging with the threat of tears. “You’re not—” you started, but she cut you off, shaking her head again.

“Yes, I am!” Her voice cracked, and suddenly, she wasn’t pacing anymore. She was standing still, facing you, her fists clenched at her sides like she was trying to hold herself together through sheer force of will. “You deserve better than this. Better than… than me.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and final. For a moment, the only sound was the soft hiss of the candle flickering in the corner, the distant rumble of a car passing by outside. You could feel the weight of what she was saying sinking into your skin, settling deep in your bones. She was pulling away, tearing out a piece of herself, a piece of you, and you didn’t know how to stop it.

“Don’t do this,” you whispered, stepping closer, your voice trembling. You reached for her hand, desperate to hold onto something, anything, but she flinched, stepping back just out of reach. “Please, Ellie. We can fix this. We can figure it out, we always do.”

But she was already shaking her head again, her eyes glistening with tears she refused to let fall. “No. I can’t… I can’t keep dragging you down with me. You deserve to be happy, and I don’t think I can give that to you anymore.”

Your heart broke then. It shattered, piece by piece, with every word she spoke. You wanted to scream, to tell her she was wrong, that you could make it work, that love was enough. But deep down, you knew. You’d both been unraveling for months, slipping through each other’s fingers like sand. And no matter how tightly you tried to hold on, it wasn’t enough.

Ellie took a shaky breath, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet, barely audible. “I love you, but I don’t think I’m good for you anymore. And I can’t… I can’t keep pretending like I am.”

You stood there, frozen, as the words echoed in the small space between you. There was nothing left to say. Nothing that could change what was already happening. So, instead, you just nodded, your throat too tight to speak, your heart too heavy to protest.

She watched you for a moment longer, her eyes softening, filled with something that looked like regret, maybe even guilt. Then, without another word, she turned and walked toward the door, leaving you standing there, the candle flickering weakly in the corner.

The sound of the door closing behind her felt like the final nail in the coffin. The room was suddenly too quiet, too cold, too empty.

And you were alone.

The night air cools your skin, but the warmth of the gallery lingers, wrapping around you like a heavy cloak. You take a few steps down the street, trying to steady your breath, trying to shake off the flood of emotions Ellie’s presence stirred up. But as you reach the edge of the block, something pulls you back—an invisible tether, tightening around your heart. You stop, glancing back toward the gallery, the soft glow of the lights spilling out onto the sidewalk, the hum of conversations still echoing in the air.

You’re not ready to leave. Not yet.

With a deep breath, you turn and step back inside, the warmth of the space enveloping you once more. The crowd has shifted, people moving around the artwork like currents in a river, but you’re not drawn to any of them. Instead, you find yourself wandering, letting your feet carry you through the gallery without any clear direction.

The pieces on the walls are beautiful—Ellie’s unmistakable style shines through in every brushstroke, every burst of color. But there’s something else here, something you can’t quite put your finger on. You continue walking, the noise around you dulling to a low murmur as you lose yourself in the art.

And then, you see it.

Tucked away in a corner of the gallery, slightly off the main flow of the exhibition, is a painting that stops you in your tracks. Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, everything else falls away—the crowd, the noise, even the memory of Ellie standing just a few feet from you moments ago.

The painting is large, dominating the wall with its raw, unfiltered intimacy. The colors are rich, deep tones of reds and golds and shadows that dance across the canvas like firelight. And in the center, almost hidden in the interplay of light and dark, are two figures—tangled together, their bodies intertwined in a way that leaves no room for doubt. The lines are soft, delicate, but there’s a fierceness to the way the brushstrokes capture the curve of a back, the arch of a neck, the way two sets of hands grip each other as if holding on for dear life.

It’s you and Ellie.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you take a step closer, your pulse quickening with every detail that comes into focus. The figures are not exact replicas, not perfect portraits, but there’s no mistaking it—the shape of your body, the curve of Ellie’s form. The familiarity in the way your hands touch, the way your legs are tangled together, skin on skin, lost in the moment of sex.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, a rush of heat flooding your cheeks as the memories flood back. The night in question comes rushing to the surface—one of those endless nights in college, when the world outside had ceased to matter, and all that existed was the space between you and Ellie. The way her breath had felt against your skin, the soft murmur of her voice in your ear, the way she looked at you like you were the only thing that made sense in a world of chaos.

It’s all there, captured in the brushstrokes. The vulnerability, the connection, the way you’d both been completely unguarded with each other in a way that had felt terrifying and exhilarating all at once. The memory is so visceral, it’s like being pulled back in time, your body remembering the touch of her hands, the feel of her lips against yours.

You stand there, rooted to the spot, your eyes tracing every detail of the painting. It’s beautiful, in a way that makes your chest ache, but it’s also unmistakably private. This moment was yours—yours and Ellie’s—and seeing it laid bare here, for everyone to see, feels almost too intimate, like a secret exposed.

Your breath hitches as your mind races. Did Ellie mean for this to be here? Was it a message? Or just a piece of her past she needed to exorcise, to let out into the world in the only way she knew how?

You take another step closer, your eyes fixated on the way the light plays off the figures—your figure—highlighting the delicate curve of your waist, the way Ellie’s arm wraps around you, pulling you closer. It’s so raw, so unapologetic, and the emotions it stirs up are almost too much to bear.

You stand there, your heart hammering in your chest, you hear the soft creak of footsteps behind you. You know, without turning around, who it is. Ellie’s presence fills the space before she even speaks, the air between you charged with an intensity that has been building all night.

For a long moment, neither of you says anything. You can feel her eyes on the painting, then on you, her silence heavy with meaning. She’s watching your reaction, waiting—maybe even bracing—for what you’ll say, for how you’ll respond. You want to say something, anything, but the words seem lodged in your throat.

Finally, Ellie breaks the silence. Her voice is soft, almost hesitant, but there’s a vulnerability to it that makes your chest tighten. “It’s… from a long time ago,” she says, the words almost a whisper. “I didn’t think anyone would see it and know..”

You swallow hard, still unable to tear your eyes away from the painting. “It’s us,” you say, the words barely audible, but Ellie hears them. You can feel her nod behind you, even though she doesn’t say anything.

Another beat of silence stretches between you, the weight of the past pressing down on you both. And then Ellie speaks again, her voice lower now, more grounded. “I didn’t know how else to… capture it. It was the only way I could make sense of everything.”

You finally turn to look at her, and the sight of her standing there, just inches away, sends a fresh wave of emotions crashing over you. Her face is softer now, the hard edges you saw earlier had smoothed away. Just her, standing there, vulnerable and exposed in a way that mirrors the painting on the wall.

For the first time all night, the space between you feels real. Heavy with everything that’s gone unsaid for years.

You open your mouth to speak, but the words are still out of reach. Instead, all you can do is look at her, your chest tight with the weight of everything this painting has stirred up. There’s a part of you that wants to step closer, to reach out and touch her like you used to, to see if the connection that once burned so brightly between you still lingers in the spaces where your skin meets hers.

But for now, all you can do is stand there, your heart pounding in your chest, the memory of that night—of her —playing over and over in your mind like a song you thought you’d forgotten.

Somehow, you ended up here—Ellie’s apartment. You’re not sure how it happened. Maybe it was the tension in the gallery, the weight of the memories between you, or maybe it was Ellie’s quiet, almost tentative offer: “Do you want to come over for a bit?”

Now, the door closes softly behind you, and you find yourself standing in the small entryway of her apartment, the familiar scent of her space—wood, paint, and that faint earthy musk of hers—hitting you all at once. It’s like stepping back into a life you’d long since tried to leave behind, except everything feels slightly off now, like a song that’s being played just a little too slow.

The silence stretches between you, awkward and thick, as Ellie moves past you into the living room. Her apartment is small, but cozy. Messy in the way an artist’s space always is, with scattered paintbrushes, canvases propped up against the walls, and sketchbooks overflowing with half-finished ideas. It’s not much different from the space she had in college, except this time, the mess feels more intentional—like it’s been lived in, not just occupied.

You hover near the door, unsure of where to put your hands, unsure of where to put yourself. The air between you is charged, but not in the electric way it had been back in the gallery.

Ellie clears her throat, scratching the back of her neck as she moves around the space, avoiding your gaze. 

“Uh, you can sit if you want,” she says, motioning vaguely toward the worn, comfortable-looking couch that’s pushed against the far wall. “I’ll grab some drinks.”

You nod, grateful for something to do, even if it’s just sitting down. The cushions sag beneath you, and you can’t help but remember the nights you’d spent like this before, curled up together on whatever hand-me-down couch she had at the time, talking for hours, or sometimes not talking at all. Just being.

But this isn’t like before.

Ellie disappears into the kitchen, and you take the opportunity to look around. There’s an easel in the corner with a half-finished painting—a cityscape this time, vibrant with color and movement. The table next to it is cluttered with tubes of paint, brushes, and crumpled pieces of paper with rough sketches. It’s Ellie’s world, laid out in front of you, and yet you feel like a stranger in it now.

The awkwardness creeps up your spine, settling in the pit of your stomach as you wait, the quiet stretching on and on. You can hear Ellie moving in the kitchen—bottles clinking, the soft sound of the fridge opening and closing. It should feel normal, familiar. But it doesn’t.

After what feels like too long, Ellie finally returns, two bottles of beer in hand. She hands you one without a word, her fingers brushing yours briefly in the exchange. The touch is electric, sending a jolt through you, but it’s gone as quickly as it came.

Ellie sits on the opposite end of the couch, as far from you as the small space allows. She takes a swig of her beer, her gaze flicking to the window instead of meeting yours, her posture stiff and uncertain. You take a drink, too, trying to focus on the bitter taste of the beer instead of the way the room feels too small, too quiet.

The silence stretches again, awkward and heavy, like neither of you knows how to bridge the gap. The weight of the past hangs between you—unspoken, but impossible to ignore. You’re both dancing around it, unwilling to dive in, yet neither of you knows how to avoid it.

“How long have you been working on the pieces for the show?” you ask, desperate to fill the silence with something, anything.

Ellie shrugs, taking another sip of her beer. “A while. A couple of years, I guess.”

You nod, not really sure what to say. 

You can feel her eyes on you—intense and heavy. 

“I don’t think I ever forgot how it felt.” she blurts out, her voice low and husky.

You swallow hard, your pulse quickening as the weight of her words hits you. You know exactly what she means. The memory of her hands on your body, the heat of her breath against your skin—it all comes rushing back, sharper now, more immediate.

Ellie leans back against the couch, her legs spreading just slightly as she sets her beer down on the floor with a soft thunk. She’s still watching you, the unspoken desire hanging thick in the air between you. It’s a look you recognize all too well—a look that used to drive you wild, that used to make you ache for her touch in a way that felt almost unbearable.

And now, sitting here in her apartment, that same ache is starting to stir inside you again.

“I know it’s been a long time,” she murmurs, her voice soft, “But I’ve been thinking about you. About us. ”

Her words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel your body reacting, your skin prickling with heat as the space between you seems to shrink. You can see the way her chest rises and falls with each slow breath, the tension in her body barely restrained. It’s like she’s holding herself back—just barely—but there’s no mistaking the hunger in her eyes, the way her gaze keeps flicking to your lips, your body, like she’s already imagining what it would feel like to close the distance.

You know you should say something, should acknowledge the fire that’s rapidly spreading between you, but you can’t find the words. All you can do is watch as Ellie shifts closer, her movements slow, her eyes never leaving yours. 

“I’m not gonna pretend like I don’t want you,” she says, her voice dropping even lower, almost a growl. There’s no hesitation anymore, no awkwardness, just pure, unfiltered desire. “Because I do. I always have.”

The confession hangs in the air, bold and dangerous, and it takes everything in you not to close the gap between you and her right then and there. Your body is already reacting, your pulse racing, your breath coming faster as the tension between you reaches a fever pitch.

Ellie leans in slightly, her face inches from yours, her lips so close you can feel the heat of her breath against your skin. Her hand moves to your thigh, the touch light but deliberate, her fingers pressing against you in a way that sends a jolt of heat straight through your core. It’s a touch that’s both familiar and new, reigniting the fire that had once burned so brightly between you.

“You remember how good it was, don’t you?” she whispers, her lips brushing against your ear, her voice sending shivers down your spine. “I can see it in your eyes.”

Your breath hitches, and you feel your body responding, your skin buzzing with the memory of her touch, the way she used to know exactly how to drive you wild. The pull between you is too strong now, the desire too overwhelming to ignore. You want her—desperately—and you can see the same hunger reflected in her eyes, the way her hand tightens slightly on your thigh, her grip firm. 

“Ellie…” you breathe, your voice a whisper, but she hears it. She always hears you.

She moves even closer, her lips brushing against your neck now, the warmth of her breath sending a rush of heat through your body. “Tell me you want this,” she murmurs, her voice rough with desire. “Tell me you want me.”

Your mind is spinning, your heart racing as you feel the full weight of her body leaning into you, her hand sliding further up your thigh, her touch firm. You can barely think straight, the heat between you unbearable now, every nerve in your body on fire as she presses her lips against your neck, soft but insistent.

“I want you..” you whisper, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. And as soon as they leave your lips, Ellie’s restraint shatters.

In an instant, her lips are on yours, the kiss rough and desperate, all the tension and desire that’s been building between you exploding in a surge of heat. Her hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, sliding up your sides, pulling you closer as if she can’t get enough of you. The kiss is hungry, wild, like she’s been starving for you for years, and now that she has you again, she’s not going to let go.

Your body reacts instinctively, your hands tangling in her hair, pulling her closer as you lose yourself.  It’s overwhelming, intoxicating, the intensity of her touch, the way she knows exactly how to make you melt beneath her.

Ellie pulls you onto her lap, her hands gripping your hips, and you can feel the hardness of her body beneath you, the strength in her arms as she holds you close, her lips never leaving yours. It’s rough, raw, and so intensely familiar, like falling back into a rhythm you hadn’t realized you’d been missing.

Ellie pulls back just enough to catch her breath, her forehead resting against yours, her breathing ragged, her eyes dark and wild with need. “I need you,” she whimpers. 

In a rush, your hands find the hem of ellie’s shirt, pulling it up and over her head. You toss it aside without a second thought, your eyes immediately drawn to her bare torso—her tattoo twisting along her arm, her skin flushed with heat. For a moment, you pause, breathless, as you take her in. She’s gorgeous. Strong and lean, every muscle under her skin defined, her freckles scattered across her chest like stars in the night.

Ellie’s breathing is ragged, her chest rising and falling heavily as she watches you, her lips slightly parted, her eyes burning with want. But she doesn’t say a word. Instead, her hands move to your shirt, tugging it up in one swift motion. You lift your arms, letting her pull it over your head before it, too, is discarded in the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Her gaze drops immediately, her eyes sweeping over your body. 

There’s something in the way she looks at you—something intense,that makes your skin burn under her. Ellie’s hands rest on your bare waist now, her fingers brushing over your skin as she takes you in.

“Ellie…” you breathe, the sound a mixture of a plea and a gasp, urging her to continue.

“Fuck…” she mutters, almost to herself as she leans back slightly to get a better view. Her hands slide up your sides, fingers trailing over the curve of your breasts, the sensation sending a shiver through your entire body. She looks at you like you’re something to be worshipped, her eyes dark with want, her touch slow, as if she’s savoring every second, every inch of you.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Ellie whispers, she’s taking her time now, her hands exploring every inch of your skin, her fingers brushing over your collarbone, tracing the line of your ribs, before they move back up, cupping your breasts with a gentleness that contrasts the raw hunger in her eyes.

You reach for her, your hands roaming over her body, feeling the strength of her shoulders, the hard lines of muscle beneath her skin.  Your hands move lower, exploring the soft dip of her waist, the way her body feels beneath your touch—strong, every muscle tensing under your fingers as you stroke her skin. You let your fingers trace the outline of her abs, feeling the way her body responds to your touch, the way her breath hitches every time your hands move lower.

Ellie's hands grip your hips with an sudden urgency, your slick catches against her cunt, the soft, wet friction sending pulses along your clit. You feel her body respond—every muscle tightening, every breath hitching in anticipation.

Ellie's hands grip your hips with an urgency, your slick catches against her cunt, the soft, wet friction making you pulsate. You can feel her body respond—every muscle tightening, every breath hitching in anticipation.

“n-need to feel you,” she gasps, her voice wavering on the edge of breaking, raw and desperate. The intensity in her eyes makes your heart race, an unquenchable thirst that mirrors your own.

You begin to grind against her, your slick meeting her puffy clit, the sensation making you gasp as the friction builds. 

“Oh god, please..” you whimper, a moan escaping your lips.

It’s intoxicating, the way your bodies move together, the way every roll of your hips sends ripples of pleasure through both your pussies. 

“Fuck,” ellie breathes, her voice low and filled with a mix of need and awe, her eyes locked onto yours as you move together, a slow, delicious rhythm that feels like it’s been waiting for this moment for years. 

“Come here,” she begs, pulling you closer, her grip tightening as you continue to grind against her. The slick sound echos in the air, mingling with the soft moans that slip from your lips.  Each sound you makes pulls ellie deeper, melody that makes her crave more. 

Ellie shifts beneath you, her body arching in a way that allows you to scissor closer. You can see the way her chest rises and falls, each breath heavy. Your eyes flutter shut for a moment, lost in the sensations, and ellie takes the opportunity to lean down, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, “You feel so fucking good, baby.” 

The sound of her voice makes your pussy pulsate, your eyes snapping open as they lock onto hers.  “d-don’t stop,” you breathe, your voice trembling with urgency. “I need m-more.”

“God, you’re s-so fucking good,” she whispers, her voice thick with desire, her gaze locked on yours, as if she’s trying to memorize every detail of this moment. 

Ellie’s hands slide down your body, exploring every curve, every contour as she pulls you closer, her fingers digging into your skin, leaving marks that will linger long after this night.

“Ellie...” you breathe, the name falling from your mouth like a prayer. “Please, I need to feel you closer,” you whisper, voice all shaky. 

Ellie gives in to the rhythm, moving faster, harder, each thrust sending shudders of pleasure racing through both of you. Your moans come out loud and whiny, mingling with Ellie’s desperate gasps. 

“Fuck, yes!” You breathe, your body arching into hers, your hands gripping her arms as she pulls you closer. You can feel the tension building between you, the way your body responds together, every roll of your hips bringing you both closer to cumming. 

“Don’t stop!” Ellie lets out a soft cry, her body tensing beneath you as the pleasure washes over her. You feel the way her body responds to yours, and it sends you tumbling over the edge, your own pleasure crashing down, pulling you both into ecstasy. 

You collapse against her, breathless and trembling, the world around you fading away as you savor the warmth of her body against yours, the softness of her skin, and the way your bodies still pulse. 

You turn your head slightly, your eyes catching a glimpse of the half-finished paintings scattered around her apartment, the abstract strokes, the splashes of color that seem almost chaotic, like her thoughts spilled out onto the canvas. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll be another one of those unfinished things—something she can’t quite complete, something left unresolved, a work in progress that she never intended to finish.

There’s a lump forming in your throat, but you push it down.

You won’t wake up to her. Not tomorrow, not ever. Ellie will go back to her life, and you’ll go back to yours, and this night will fade into the past, becoming another memory, another fragment of what you once had together.

With a quiet sigh, you press a gentle kiss to her shoulder. 

[pearlcigs]

⋆ maybe some faith would do me good

christian!virgin!reader x ellie williams

summary ⋆ ellie's forced to go to some church camp thing for the summer. maybe she'll actually enjoy it if she keeps seeing you around.

warnings ⋆ 2.78k ⋆ smut, non apocalyptic au, guys dont cancel me😅, mention of suicide (jokingly) , implied reader virginity loss, religious themes, alludes to what david did to ellie, friends to enemies to lovers kinda, dacryphilia, public sex, sex in church, public humiliation, cunnilingus and fingering (r!receiving), pet names (baby, pretty girl, good girl)

ellie tried to protest when joel proposed the idea of ellie spending her summer days at some camp for religious kids that one of the elders in jackson had volunteered to host, she really did. she didn't know what joel was trying to accomplish. maybe he thought in some twisted way this would help her get over that encounter. it didn't matter what the point was, it mattered that she was being woken up at 8 in the morning on the first day of summer to go to some stupid camp. joel told her she was being dramatic, it was only a 2 and half week program and then the rest of her summer was free.

she was still grumpy nevertheless, slumping her way to this church retreat. she'd only packed enough for a week, hoping that if she ran out of clothes they'd be forced to send her home. A friendly old woman greeted her, smiling and cheerful unlike ellie. The woman led ellie to a room, explaining that this was her room during the program. She fought every urge to roll her eyes, knowing the woman was just being nice but, god, who really had that much energy this early in the morning? The woman instructed her to leave her bag on one of the beds— great she had a roommate— and then make her way to the prayer room.

ellie groaned at the thought. prayer room? she might as well shoot herself now. she complied nevertheless. her feet dragging along the wooden floor, the planks creaking with every step she took. the halls were white, various pictures of religious symbolism decorating the otherwise plain walls. she couldn't deny that the hallway made her feel uneasy. she could only imagine what it looked like at night. ellie sighs as she comes across a door, half open and she can hear chatter from behind it. she worked up the courage to walk through the door, preparing herself for whatever bullshit she'll endure while she's here.

she takes a look around the room, eyes all the girls who seemed to all know each other. each girl with their own smile on their face. ellie rolled her eyes, closing the door behind her and before she could even process what was happening, she was approached by a girl. you. "i didn't think you'd be here." you smile at her, oblivious to the one sided feud you had with ellie. you were the pastor's daughter, probably the one responsible for this little get together. god, ellie hated you. the way you dressed, the way you talked, the stupid smile on your face, the even stupider bow in your hair and that little sundress that showed so much for someone like you.

truthfully, ellie didn't have a good reason to hate you. especially since you two grew up together, being raised to be built in friends. but hating you just to hate you seemed justified enough for her. "didn't have much of a choice." she barely keeps eye contact, keeping her response cold and dry. you frown at that. "oh. okay..." you look down to your shoes, it was obvious you picked up on the dismay in her tone. her mind wonders, just for a second, if she took it too far. but she shakes the thought. "yeah." she clears her throat, looking around the room once again. "well... um..." it was ridiculous how quickly your confidence was knocked down. all because of ellie.

ellie chuckles, finding some sick amusement in your reaction. you were going to speak again, probably to ask something like 'are you mad at me?' but you were dragged away by your friends. ellie sighed, watching you walk away. her eyes trailing from the back of your head all the way down to your— woah. why the hell did she look there?! god, but the damage was done. ellie wanted to look again, certain parts of her practically begging for just another glance. she refuses though, instead focusing on one of the stained glass windows. nothing fancy, just a red cross with a blue background. the funding for this particular chapel wasn't exactly the highest.

ellie could feel herself warm up, her mind jolting such crude thoughts about you. she groaned, running a hand through her hair. you had her mind so confused. she hated your guts. she really did. but all she could think about when she saw you was how much she wanted to bend you over and just yell at you. for what? she didn't know. for being too religious? too kind? too innocent? her mind wanders again, to a new thought she'd never had before. she wanted to ruin you, give it to you until you couldn't possibly take it any more. watching all the innocence leave your eyes while she filled you with sin. ellie snaps out of her thoughts, noticing that the woman from earlier had begun to speak about the quote unquote 'fun activities planned'.

through out the day, she tried to avoid you. even when you tried your very hardest to make amends for something you had no clue about. she participated in the church themed activities with little enthusiasm, being told more than once to at least act like she was having fun. the sun had begun to set, the chaperones calling out that dinner was ready. but ellie wasn't hungry. she managed to slip away from everyone else. wondering the semi creepy halls, just thinking to herself. she counted how many times the floor squeaked and creaked. she was content with just doing that until she counted a creak that she didn't make.

she turned around, her heart rate a little elevated only to find out it was just you. she sighed and rolled her eyes, returning to her initial path. "hey... they said dinner was ready." you were wary, nervous and shy even, and she couldn't blame you. "i know." her tone was less harsh this time. perhaps she was feeling guilty for her outburst earlier. "you're... um, you're going the wrong way." you were just trying to be helpful, but with every word you spoke, the more ellie got angry at you. "i know." she repeated. she heart your soft footsteps running up behind her to catch up. "so, why are you going this way?" your voice was so sweet, just like the honey ellie imagined licking off your body at least 30 times today.

she didn't answer, continuing to walk in the opposite direction of where she needed to be. and you just followed like a lost little puppy. "hey? i said—" she cuts you off. "i heard you." her cold tone was back. "oh." just like earlier, your gaze redirected to your shoes. "don't do that." she sighed, looking over at you. "huh? do what...?" you look up at her, frown evident on your face. "look like i just crushed your heart." ellie looked away from you again, examining the religious paraphilia on the walls. you didn't reply, looking away again but ellie didn't miss the hint of blush covering your face before you did. "oh? did i just crush your heart?" she jokes, weirdly seeming to warm up to you. once again, she's met to no reply. she rolls her eyes, turning the corner in the hall. she was met with a door and she wasn't sure if she should enter.

"it's the chapel." you explain, sensing her confusion and hesitation. ellie looks at you, a little annoyance on her face that you knew something she didn't. she pulls the handle on the door, gesturing for you to enter first. "ladies first." she remarks, not much amusement in her tone. you walk in and she follows after you. it was empty and though it shouldn't be creepy, ellie felt unnerved. "wait! don't let it close—" you try to warn, but the door had already been shut. you sigh, biting your lip in anxiousness. "what?" she utters, wondering why her closing the door was a bad thing. "it locks from the outside." you explain and ellie's face drops. "that's fucking great." ellie groans, running her hands over her face, walking down the isle and up the two steps to the alter. you follow.

"i tried to tell you..." you mutter. ellie wants to yell at you. say something along the lines of 'you should have tried harder' or whatever but before you can get the words out your head is in your hands and you're crying. ellie's shocked, not knowing what to do or say. she sighs. "don't cry, c'mon." she comforts, moving your hands away from your face and wiping your tears. it made you reminiscent to when you and ellie used to be friends. "i'm sorry." you sniffle as she dries your tears. "why're you crying, hm?" she tries to be gentle but just at the sight of your tears makes her want to fuck you over the alter. "'cause you're being mean and i got us locked in here." you vent your frustrations, revealing just what a hard day you had because of ellie.

she feels terrible now, hating that she made you feel so inadequate. god, why does she even care how you feel? ellie looks at you, watching as you wipe the tears that she missed. "i'm sorry for being so mean." she apologizes, deciding to cut the act. she didn't hate you. she could never hate you. "i just can't get you out of my mind." she admits. you look at her blankly for a moment, clearly not understanding. but ellie can see the exact moment when your eyes lighten up, realizing what she meant. "you mean it?" you ask, full of hope. "god." ellie rolls her eyes and your naivety. she leans closer to you, pressing her lips against yours, her hands cupping your face.

you pull back and ellie is now the one who frowns. did she misinterpret all your signs? "i'm not good at that." you admit while avoiding eye contact. ellie chuckles, pulling you closer by your waist. "i don't care." she mutters, kissing down your neck. you gasp, her warm tongue running over your cool skin. ellie's hands venture down, grabbing your ass over your dress. the ass that started this whole mess. "ellie!" you were startled. it felt like all the statues were suddenly watching you, judging you. but it just felt too good to care. but it weighed in the back of your mind as ellie kissed your jaw.

"i'm gonna fuck you so good." she mumbles, becoming drunk with lust. "i've never..." you trail off, your voice transitioning into a gasp when her hands begin to roam over your body. "i know. so pure, huh?" she teases with an eye roll, mocking how the church would call you pure. you don't reply. you couldn't. you words stuck in your throat, your eyes focused on her hands. watching them caress your waist slowly sliding up your body to cup your breasts. "el..." your whisper, you voice filled with breath. "i'm right here." she slides her right hand back down your body, reaching your thighs. she trails her fingers over the flesh before pressing her finger to your clothed cunt. you gasp, clutching onto her tighter.

"i know, baby. feels so good, doesn't it?" she mumbles in your ear, her fingers circling your clit so gently over your panties, which were becoming soaked. "el, el, ellie." you breathed out heavily, trying your best to keep as most decency as you could. after all, this was a chapel. "saying my name just like a prayer." ellie acknowledges, her fingers slowly working towards slipping into your underwear. your eyes rolled back when her cold fingers finally touch the place you needed her most. your legs were weak, wanting to give out on you. ellie notices, biting back a laugh at how blissed you already looked. she leaned you against the alter, her fingers working faster.

"so pretty." ellie mutter against your clammy skin. "so good. you're being such a good girl." her words made you feel so dirty but so... aroused at the same time. "keep... keep saying that." you barely managed to get out, you voice coming out in broken whimpers. "yeah? you like being my good girl?" she gently slides a finger into your dripping cunt. ellie can help but moan herself. "ellie." you whisper, feeling more pleasure than you've ever felt before. "i know. i know." she comforts, knowing exactly how you were feeling as she adds another finger. ellie was so aroused, drunk on the power of ruining you, being the one to help you commit the worst sin you've ever done.

your head lolled back, feeling something you've never felt before. "el." you choke out. "i know. you're almost there." ellie sinks to her knees, kneeling in front of you. "should i confess my sins to you." she whispers, kissing your thighs. you can't respond, finding the scene before you so arousing. ellie lifts up your dress to reveal your lacy underwear. "of course." she mutters under her breath. "hold this for me pretty girl." she looks up at you, and you shakily take hold of the dress that she flipped up. she gently slides your panties down your thighs, never breaking eye contact with you. she helps you step out of them, shoving them in her pocket so she didn't have to put them on the dirty ground.

her eyes flicker down to your pussy, biting her lip. "ellie." you can't even focus anymore, the loss of her fingers deep in your cunt making you want to cry. "i'm gonna make you feel so good. just be patient." she kisses your inner thighs, teasing you. you can't say anything, complain about how much you need her. but luckily, she doesn't torture too much, cause in a matter of seconds she's sucking on your clit, with her fingers returning to their job of fucking you. the sweat on your body makes you hot to touch, needing your release so badly. you push your hips forward instinctively, greedily wanting everything ellie could give you. before you could even process how good ellie was making feel, your orgasm approached.

ellie couldn't help but moan as your own moans got louder and your free hand tangled itself in her hair. "so close, baby." she mumbles into your pussy, feeling just as pleasured as you do. "el. oh my gosh, el! please!" you mutter, your words conjumbled and not making much sense. "good job, baby." she mumbles as she finally pushes you over the edge. your moans are loud and broken, filling the empty chapel with such sin. the cross necklace around your neck sticking to your skin. "ellie rubs your thighs, pressing small kisses on your pussy. "can't get enough of this pussy." she moaned, so drunk on you, on lust, on life. "ellie—" you whine and she moves away but not before she runs her tongue through your folds one last time.

"so good." she praises and lets your dress fall back into place. ellie kisses you, the taste of your arousal still in her lips. she pulls away, both of you out of breath. the sound of doors opening cause you both to pull apart. your hands going to fix your hair. "ms. heather wanted to know where you two went. you okay...?" a girl ellie recognized as one of your friends from earlier asked you. ellie began to make her way down the steps and down the isle, you quick to follow. "yes, yeah. we just got a little lost." you speak slowly, trying to maintain your thoughts.

your eyes scattered around to find your underwear. ellie smirked when she saw you looking around, knowing they were right in her pocket. she would give them back eventually but the thought of you walking around a few hours commando just made her feel things. catching glimpses of you around the night pulling down your dress, looking around to make sure no one can see anything. but of course in the morning she'll return them after using them all that night, after her roommate when home sick. but this is ellie we're talking about. she had to tease you just a little bit. so on day two when everyone wakes up to gather in the prayer room to see a pair of lace panties hanging from the cross, the kids and chaperones were most definitely shocked, and of course ellie earned some death glares from you in between your embarrassment. and ellie can't help but think maybe she'll hang out with you at church more often if that's the reward.

another christian!reader x ellie williams fic!

[leiyanzyves]

—BARREL DEEP

╰┈➤Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

Tw: Rifle play (penetration with unloaded rifle), rough sex, degradation/praise mix, overstimulation, filthy dirty talk, spitting, crying, squirting, size kink, slight pain kink, dom!Ellie, weapon kink.

Your back hits the mattress hard enough to knock the breath out of you.

Ellie is on you immediately—one hand pinning your wrists above your head, her knee forcing your legs open. You’re already soaked, thighs trembling, the cool air of the room brushing your heated skin.

She laughs low in her throat, shaking her head.

"Fuckin' knew you were a needy little thing," she rasps, voice thick with hunger. "Spreadin' those legs for me the second I even look at you."

She reaches over and grabs the rifle from where it leans against the nightstand.

Your stomach flips.

It's big—bigger than the pistol she usually teases you with. Heavy. Cold. Dangerous.

Your cunt clenches in anticipation.

Ellie catches the way your eyes widen, the way your hips jerk toward her without you even realizing.

"Oh, you like that, huh?" she smirks, dragging the barrel down your chest, slow and deliberate, until it rests heavy against your lower stomach. "Like the idea of me fucking you with my rifle?"

You whimper, nodding, already desperate.

"Say it," she orders, tapping the muzzle against your clit lightly, teasing.

"Please," you breathe, "want you to fuck me with it, Ellie. Please—"

She grins, wicked and wild.

"Filthy fuckin' slut," she says approvingly.

With no warning, she shoves the muzzle down between your legs, spreading your folds open crudely with the cold metal. She smears it through your wetness, coating it, letting it drag heavy and slow over your throbbing clit.

"Look at this mess," Ellie mutters, staring down at you, stroking the gun against you like she's savoring it. "So wet for me already."

You buck your hips desperately, chasing the contact.

And then—she pushes the barrel inside you.

The stretch is obscene—your cunt struggling to take it, so much wider than her fingers, heavier than anything you’ve ever been fucked with. You cry out, hips jolting off the mattress, thighs shaking from the sheer fullness.

Ellie groans under her breath, watching your pussy struggle around the cold metal.

"Fucking hell," she mutters. "Takin' it so good, baby. S'fuckin' tight."

She starts fucking you with it—slow, shallow thrusts at first, just the tip breaching your entrance, making loud, wet sounds every time she pulls back.

You can't stop the moans pouring from your lips, half-sobs, half-gasps.

It’s too much. It’s not enough.

"Greedy little pussy," Ellie growls, pushing deeper. "You fuckin’ need it, don't you? Need to be stuffed full."

"Yes," you sob, eyes rolling back.

She shoves it all the way in until you feel it kiss your cervix, making you scream her name. The burn, the stretch, the filthy wrongness of it makes your body light up with pleasure.

Ellie doesn't stop.

She spits down on your clit again, rubbing it harshly with her thumb while she continues fucking you with the heavy rifle.

You thrash against the bed, legs trembling uncontrollably.

"That's it," she says, almost tender, voice rough with pride. "Come on, baby. Cream all over my fuckin’ rifle. Show me how bad you wanted it."

You shatter with a broken sob, squirting hard around the barrel, your entire body convulsing. Wetness gushes down your thighs, soaking the sheets, dripping off the gun in thick strings.

Ellie groans, pulling the rifle out slow—watching your pussy spasm and gape around nothing.

"You fuckin’ ruined it," she says, laughing, running her slick-covered fingers through your folds. "Gotta clean this whole fuckin’ thing now... and it’s all your fault."

You whimper, mind barely hanging onto reality.

But Ellie isn’t finished.

She tosses the rifle onto the floor with a heavy clatter, climbs over you, and presses her soaked fingers to your mouth.

"Open," she commands.

You do—immediately, obediently.

She shoves her fingers into your mouth, making you taste yourself, her other hand already sliding back between your legs.

"You think we're done?" she murmurs darkly, grinding her palm against your overstimulated clit. "Oh, no, baby. You wanted to be my little gun slut... now you’re gonna take everything I give you."

And from the way her fingers are already plunging back inside you, rough and relentless—you know she means it.

[yokedtablet]

Ellabs where Abby has comphet & Ellie clocks her & makes it her mission to make Abby realizes she likes girls (& Abby is extremely attracted to her & struggling to maintain her “heterosexuality” 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️)

I may have gone a little bit off-track from your original request, anon! This is less “Ellie makes it her mission” and more “Ellie is a dumbass who happens to be in the direct path of Abby’s downward spiral," but hopefully it’s still close to your idea. Thank you so much for the request, I loved writing it!!

Wanna Be Yours

Contents: college au, loser!Ellie, rugby captain!Abby, comphet, slow(ish) burn, platonic dellie, drugs and alcohol, Abby is having a crisis, gay panic, first times, explicit sex (a lot), light choking, dom/sub overtones (d!Ellie, s!Abby), spitting, praise wc: 5.1k (I got carried away)

It’s the hottest day of the year, and Ellie and Dina are lying out on the quad on a floral bedsheet (Dina’s), sweating, pretending to study. Well, Dina might actually be studying. 

Ellie, instead, is watching the rugby captain across the quad under a cherry blossom. She’s lying on her stomach, frowning at the tiny book in her hands. (The book isn’t actually that tiny, just one of those mass market paperbacks, but the size of her hands makes it comically small). It would be sort of a breathtaking view, if not for the boyfriend beside her. 

Lounging lazily in a tank top and basketball shorts. 

Owen. 

He slides up next to her, brushing her long characteristic braid over her shoulder. Abby shrugs him off, eyes never leaving the page. 

“Let me guess.” Dina pokes her foot into Ellie’s ribs. “You’re picturing her on the floor of our dorm room in nothing but her jersey.”

“Gross. Shut up.” Ellie rolls onto her side, evading the attack. 

“You’re not very good at hiding it, Els.” 

Ellie just lets out a low groan, head sliding into the corner of her elbow, unable to think about anything but the heat—in more than one way. 

“She has a boyfriend.” A boyfriend she clearly hates, Ellie thinks. 

“And that’s such a big issue for you, right? Last semester—”

“Let’s not revisit that, please.” 

“I’m just saying,” Dina says, shrugging, “you’ve been a little bit of a nightmare lately. And—” she holds up a hand to stop Ellie’s argument—”I just think you might need to work some of that shit out. And obviously, we both have eyes. She’s hot.” Her eyebrows quirk upwards, and Ellie groans. 

Dina’s not wrong. She’s absolutely not wrong. It’s been months since Ellie last brought someone home. She’s been in a drought of massive proportions, bed-rotting and smoking in the dorm instead of going out, and Abby could definitely, definitely fuck her out of it.

If it weren’t for Owen. 

Abby’s gaze drifts from her book for just a moment. She glances around the quad, and her eyes dart just briefly toward Ellie and Dina. But definitely toward Ellie. And then she looks decisively away, burying her face in whatever she’s reading. Not exactly the look of someone who doesn’t care if they’re caught looking.

Ellie feels a stupid, hopeful heat race through her stomach. 

“There’s one other problem,” Ellie says. 

“Mhm?” Dina’s not really listening at this point, highlighting something in her textbook. 

“She actually hates my guts.”

“Yeah, well,” she doesn’t look up, “you’re very hateable.”

——

Abby hates Ellie for a good reason. She’ll admit that. Last semester they’d been paired up for a philosophy presentation, which Ellie forgot about pretty much immediately after getting the assignment. It wasn’t her fault; she’d lost her planner down a sewer grate by complete accident. 

She kept getting texts from this unknown phone number.

“Where R U???”

“Answer my text.”

“ELLIE WILLIAMS!!!”

Probably spam. Probably nothing important. 

Later, she blew smoke out of her dorm room window while swiping through Tinder. Mostly for entertainment, since she rarely actually met up with anyone from there. Mostly just to get a lay of the land.

And there she was. Mirror selfie in a sports bra, braid brushed over one shoulder, definitely flexing. Half-smiling. The second photo featured her with a dog. The third was a group photo. She looked just a little bit awkward in a skin-tight silver gown and heels, a full foot taller than everyone else. 

What the hell was Abby Anderson doing on lesbian Tinder?

Why did she look so fucking hot?

Ellie swiped right. They wouldn’t match, obviously. 

Before she could drop her phone, the notification pinged. One new match! She stared at it in disbelief, a thick dread coiling in her stomach. That wasn’t supposed to happen. That really wasn’t supposed to happen. 

Her fingers moved faster than her brain—a tactic she’d pretty much mastered over the years—typing out a message. Because this was impossible, and a little bit terrifying, and she was not going to miss out on this opportunity.

“Wyd tonight?” Slick, forward, nonchalant. 

Abby replied almost immediately. 

“Our philosophy assignment.” 

Her heart sank. Then the second message came through.

“Come over. Right now.”

She couldn’t exactly ignore it at this point. Still high and half-dazed, Ellie put on a clean pair of jeans and grabbed her backpack, and headed for Abby Anderson’s dorm.

If she’d expected anything besides a near-silent, brutally awkward study session, her hopes were quickly squashed. Abby did not mention the Tinder match. The next day, she was blocked anyway. The next week, Abby was dating Owen. The rest was history. 

—-

But Abby had been on lesbian Tinder. She had matched with Ellie. Whether that was a near-sociopathic ploy to get her to follow through on her end of the assignment, or some kind of genuine interest, Ellie isn’t sure. She does have her suspicions. 

She’s definitely not stalking Abby, she explains to Dina. She just happens to run into her kind of all over the place. Ellie’s rarely at the gym, but sometimes she’s skating outside while Abby is lifting. She’s sometimes holed up in the library—a place she would usually never find herself—while Abby studies. Sometimes she happens to be smoking at the bus stop when Owen picks Abby up from her dorm.

Owen. 

Abby’s not into him. She can tell. Some people aren’t into PDA, but Abby really doesn’t like it when he goes for her hand on the way to class, or kisses her outside of the dorms. Most of the time she seems genuinely annoyed with him. Then again, Abby seems to be annoyed with pretty much everyone. 

Except Dina. Because Dina is friendly with everyone, and now that she’s caught on about how Ellie is definitely not stalking her, definitely not pining in an uncharacteristically-Ellie way, she’s determined to grease the wheels. And now she has an invite to an off-campus rugby party that Abby will definitely be at, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t drag Ellie with her.

“I’m not going,” Ellie complains. “That’s not my crowd.”

“Who exactly is your crowd, then?” Dina asks, applying a tasteful amount of lip gloss. She doesn’t really need it. “The stoners?”

“Well, you, for one,” Ellie says, crossing her arms. She’s wearing a flannel over her tank top, and jeans that Dina says are torn in all the right places. “And the stoners.”

“I’m sure there’ll be plenty of weed there, dumbass,” Dina says. She grabs Ellie’s hand tightly and drags her out the door. 

——

The frat house is filled with smoke and sweaty bodies, and Ellie is four shots (and a couple of bong rips) deep. She lost Dina to the dance floor almost immediately. Despite Dina’s best efforts to yank her out of the safe periphery, Ellie hangs back against the precarious china cabinet in the dining room. She hasn’t even seen Abby once, and is pretty certain this whole thing is a bust. 

“Ellie, get out here!” She can make Dina out, just barely, poking her head in from the garage at the end of the hall. “Beer pong!”

“I’m good!” Ellie calls back, aware of the kitchen-dwellers turning to look at her. She gives an awkward nod. 

“What? I can’t hear you. Just come out here!” 

She groans. At least she'll be doing something with her hands. And she is, shockingly, very good at beer pong. 

She pushes down the hall—”sorry”—colliding with sweaty jock bodies, feeling more than a little off balance in the dim light. Someone turns around unexpectedly and she wheels, catching herself against a door. 

The door opens. 

The person on the other side of the door catches her. Throws her backward. Kind of hard. She hits the wall.

She can’t speak, partly because of the air that’s just been punched out of her lungs, and partly because she’s staring at Abby Anderson in a diabolically-tight t-shirt that’s riding up her hips. And her hair is down.

“Jesus,” Abby winces, recoiling. 

Her hair is down. Panic button! Ellie has never seen her with her hair down, and she thinks she probably never will again, because she’ll probably die right here on the spot. 

“Why are you fucking everywhere?” Abby says through clenched teeth.

Guilt wells up, a rotten feeling in her gut. “Dina invited me,” she says, stupidly.

Abby squeezes her eyes shut, combing a hand through her hair. “Shit. That’s… not what I meant.” Her face is flushed, and she looks incredibly, incredibly hot right now. 

Then Owen squeezes through the door. Fucking Owen. 

He maneuvers around Abby with a hand at her hip, which she draws away from. He looks between her and Ellie. He shrugs. “Okay, well, I’ll be around.” 

Suddenly the disheveled hair and the pushed-up shirt make a lot more sense. They’re also a lot less hot. Ellie feels that sticky, wrenching sensation she felt when her first real crush confessed to her that she’d kissed a boy, expecting Ellie to be happy for her. That delusional belief that she would be chosen, shattered. 

She hates the way it clings to her. She has to shrug it off. So when Owen’s gone, she decides to twist the knife—just a little. “Sheesh. Bad time?”

Abby squints at her. She looks like she’s trying to melt Ellie with her mind. 

Her silence forces a nervous laugh from Ellie. “I mean, that’s freshly-fucked hair if I’ve ever seen it.”

Abby pinches her temples. “God. I need another drink.”

She pushes past Ellie, and Ellie expects it to end there. But when Abby reaches the end of the hall, she looks back. She jerks her head toward the kitchen, and Ellie can’t really make out the emotion on her face. The meaning, though, is clear. Come on. 

So Ellie follows her. Lets Abby fill her red solo cup, and then her own. And then she’s following her outside into the dark backyard. 

She sits on damp grass. It’s much quieter, the sounds of the party muffled behind them. Abby drains her cup like she’s afraid it’ll run away from her. 

“You good?” Ellie asks. What an awful lead-in. Clearly, she’s not. But Ellie doesn’t know where she stands. Doesn’t know if she’s even supposed to be asking. 

Abby just stares ahead, apparently fascinated by the broken trampoline that’s tipped against the garage. “I wasn’t fucking him.”

Ellie chokes on her drink. 

Before she can come up with a smooth rebuttal—and really, what can you say to that?—Abby turns to look at her, eyes wild and dark in the moonlight. “Are you aware that you’re ruining my life?”

Ellie just stares, the words not registering. The idea that she is on Abby’s mind in any capacity—aside from the hate your guts variety—slaps her across the face. It tilts her off balance. 

“Abby, what?” It’s the first time she’s said Abby’s name to her face. It just slips. And then she’s laughing, laughing way too hard, because Abby’s expression is so genuine and hurt and confused. “What are you talking about? Because of the… philosophy thing?”

“Not because of that. Idiot.” It’s cutting, but there’s a shred of warmth there under the surface. Something else that Ellie can’t quite recognize, but that grabs her in the stomach and starts to twist. 

Ellie realizes how close they’re sitting together. She puts a hand out against Abby’s thigh, mostly to steady herself, mostly to get some distance, but it definitely does not have that effect. 

Because she feels Abby’s muscles tighten. She looks down at the hand and back up. Ellie’s pretty sure she couldn’t drag herself away if she tried. 

“Um—” Ellie’s voice catches in her throat. 

Abby kisses her.

Or maybe she kisses Abby. She’s not sure, and it doesn’t matter. It’s soft and awkward and tentative, like neither of them can fully believe that it’s happening. 

Fuck it.

Ellie slips a hand around the back of Abby’s neck, fingers rushing through long hair, pulling her closer. Kisses her harder. Kisses her like she wants to keep her there. Abby’s lips part and she lets out a soft sound, somewhere between a gasp and a moan.

They break apart. Magnets facing the wrong way. Ellie waits for her to recoil, waits for all the explaining—she’s heard it all before. I don’t really like girls, actually. I’m sorry, this was a mistake. I don’t know what I was thinking.

Instead, Abby stands up. She’s not looking at Ellie. “I think I need to leave.” 

Ellie slowly pries herself off the ground, her skin racing with static. “Yeah, okay.” 

“Gonna get an Uber,” Abby mutters, taking out her phone. It’s dead. “Fuck. Give me yours.”

Ellie doesn’t really think about it. She doesn’t try to make sense of it. Because Abby is booking a ride from her phone, and she is apparently coming with her. 

They sit on the curb in silence. Ellie tries to think of the least inflammatory thing to say. “So, Owen—”

“Please don’t talk to me about Owen right now.”

“Mm. Got it.” Ellie’s trying really hard not to smile. She shouldn’t feel happy that Abby is having a full on crisis right now. The same Abby that just kissed her and doesn’t want to talk about her boyfriend. The same Abby she’s riding back to campus with. She’s trying and failing. “I just wanna make sure I’m not being, like, a homewrecker or something.”

Abby looks at her hard, almost glaring. “Do you think I’m going to sleep with you?”

“I mean—”

“That’s presumptuous.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You’re thinking it.”

She can’t really deny that. 

“I know you’re the… ‘hit it and quit it’ type,” Abby says. 

Ellie laughs, a little hurt. “I’m sorry, who told you that?”

Abby shrugs. “It’s known.”

“Fuck you.” Ellie leans into her, just briefly, a playful nudge. She feels Abby shiver against her. “For the record, I wasn’t really expecting anything.” Half lie and half truth. “I am down, though.”

Abby barks a little laugh. “You’re down?”

Ellie rolls her eyes. “Okay, just, check where the Uber is.” 

——-

The ride back is just long enough for Ellie to start to panic. Abby is absolutely silent beside her, thigh flush with Ellie’s thigh, until they reach campus and she starts to give the driver directions to her dorm. 

Her dorm.

Oh, fuck. 

Abby doesn’t want to sleep with her. She’s made that pretty clear.

So why the fuck is she here? 

They get out, and Ellie’s feeling way too sober. It’s quiet on campus after 2 a.m. Abby thanks the driver and swings the door shut. 

Abby’s dorm looks pretty much the way she expected. Books stacked in organized heaps, a weight set next to her bed, family photos. Clothes strewn around, though nowhere near as bad as Ellie’s side of her room with Dina. A cork board with vacation photos, pictures of friends, surfing, pictures of dogs. Ellie looks for too long. 

Abby settles heavily onto her bed, just sits there quietly. 

Ellie paces, trying to release some nervous energy. In reality, she’d like to be jogging. She’d like to be full sprint away from this place, and she’d also rather be throwing herself at Abby on the bed, but she does neither. She picks up a rugby trophy that’s sitting on Abby’s desk. It’s heavier than she expects.

“Huh. Cool.”

“Sit down.”

Ellie sits beside her on the bed, legs swinging. She doesn’t dare look at the athlete beside her when she asks: “Abby, why am I here?”

The question hangs between them. Abby sucks in a breath, then resituates herself—legs crossed, facing Ellie on the bed. Ellie, reluctantly, turns to face her.

She’s not sure what she’s afraid of. Abby is the one who kissed her. Who confessed some deeply-repressed interest that Ellie genuinely had no clue about. But now this all feels very real, and the warmth twisting in Ellie’s gut isn’t just arousal. It’s something much more dangerous. 

Abby looks at her, eyes are wide and a little bit wet—but clear. “Kiss me again.” 

She says it half asking, half demanding. And Ellie doesn’t need to be told twice. 

This time there's heat. Urgency. Ellie grabbing at anything she can reach, yanking Abby closer. She’s aware of the desperate sounds that slip out of her, and the more grunting, wounded sounds Abby returns. 

Abby isn’t hesitant anymore. This time, she means it. 

They both tip backwards, and Abby’s head connects with the headboard with a heavy thunk. 

“Shit,” she winces, and Ellie thinks she looks insanely cute with her eyes scrunched up and her lip between her teeth. 

They’re both giggling, some of the tension diffused. Both still panting and close, but actually looking at each other now. Actually seeing. 

Abby, with her defenses down. That’s the most terrifying thing Ellie has seen tonight. 

Abby’s hands slip under the hem of Ellie’s t-shirt, just barely, and rest on her hips. She looks at her searchingly, and Ellie waits, gives her the chance for the thought to work its way to the surface. 

“Take this off. Please,” she says, flushing at her own request. 

Look at her, asking for what she wants. Ellie can’t help but grin. She also can’t help but notice the hungry way Abby eyes her as she pulls her shirt over her head. She’s wearing a black sports bra underneath—nothing fancy—but Abby looks like she could eat her. 

Because she’s feeling a little bit cocky, Ellie scoots back on the bed and slips off her jeans too. Tosses them somewhere on the floor. She sits there, all long legs and taut muscles that can’t compare to Abby’s. 

Abby’s eyes make meticulous work of every inch of skin, like she’s afraid it’s the last time she’ll see it. They settle between her thighs, on Ellie’s black panties. 

“Those too.”

“Seriously?” Ellie scoffs, but she’s already up off the bed. “Are you asking me to strip for you, Anderson? I think that’s a little bit unfair.”

Abby rolls her eyes. “Fine.” She reaches over her shoulder and yanks at the collar of her t-shirt, peeling it off in one easy movement. All Ellie can do is stare. And salivate. And try not to look like a rabid animal.

She’s wearing a tan bra, a little bit worn and not at all sexy, which wouldn’t work on anyone but Abigail Anderson. It barely registers, because Ellie is too busy taking in the freckled curves of her muscles—the rise and fall of her collarbones with each shallow breath, the cruel definition of her abs, and worst of all—the thin trail of blonde hair that starts at Abby’s belly button and disappears below her waistband. 

Now that is truly unfair. 

Ellie strips off her bra and panties without much fanfare. She lets Abby look at her, but not long enough that she feels like some kind of specimen. Long enough, though, that as Ellie crawls back onto the bed, she knows Abby makes out the sheen of wetness between her thighs. 

Ellie nudges Abby to sit against the headboard—then settles into her lap. Abby makes a low, involuntary sound as Ellie’s wet cunt makes contact with the seam of her pants. She looks startled, wild, all of her taking on a pinkish tone. 

“I’ve never done this. I don’t know—” 

“M-don’t care.” Ellie pulls her into a deeper kiss. This one is selfish. This time taking from Abby exactly what she needs. More tongue. More need. She pulls a low moan from Abby’s throat. 

Abby’s hands find her waist, and her fingers sink in, hard enough to bruise. As she grinds down, Abby pulls her closer. Rocks her hips against Ellie’s.

It makes her lose her breath. Like missing the last step. Like falling headfirst without seeing the bottom.

They move like this, near silent aside from quiet gasps, the warmth of Abby’s tongue on her throat, until Ellie needs more from her. She works one of Abby’s hands free—with some difficulty—and guides it up to her breast.

Abby squeezes, palm wide and hot. Her breath comes quicker against Ellie’s neck. She runs her thumb over Ellie’s nipple, and Ellie jolts with arousal. 

“Need you to…” she shifts her hips, offering better access, and guides Abby’s hand downward.

Abby looks at her, almost pleading, and Ellie nods. Yes, there. 

Eyes wide and fluttering, her fingers dip with a tentative clumsiness. When they slip through Ellie’s heat, her face hardens with concentration—watching herself like she’s studying some kind of mathematical diagram. 

“Abby, look at me.” 

“Mhm.”

“Don’t think so hard.” She smiles, and the smile is quickly wiped away when Abby’s fingers find her clit, smoothing it between them.

Ellie collapses, open mouth on Abby’s shoulder. “Fuck. Yeah, like that.”

Slowly, Abby finds her pace—sliding down to her entrance, almost pressing inside, then withdrawing. Two fingers press even circles into her clit. She’s listening for Ellie’s breaths, finding the rhythm that makes her stiffen and whimper. 

“That's fucking— that's really good, Abs.” 

The praise sends a shudder through her, pressing up against Ellie's body, her fingers slipping carelessly. 

Oh. 

Ellie rolls her hips into Abby, hard. Her hand finds Abby’s neck, her jaw, pinning her back against the headboard. She can feel the heavy thud of Abby’s pulse against her fingertips, and she squeezes, just there, just enough. 

“You’re so fucking good for me, Abby.” 

Abby is flushed, sweat-slicked, lips slack. The moan that escapes her brings Ellie right to the edge. 

“Gonna make me—” She’s doing the work now, and she doesn’t care, her pace frantic, her wetness slicking Abby’s palm and wrist. 

Abby moans like she’s the one getting fucked. She moans just watching Ellie come apart, feeling her twitch and clench, feeling her start to shake and slow. 

They breathe into each other, quiet, for several minutes. Ellie’s thighs start to ache from straddling Abby’s wide hips, and she rolls herself off, collapsing to one side. She just looks up at her, head tipped back, lips swollen, fingers stroking her neck where Ellie’s had been.

“Did I hurt you?”

“Hurt—? No.” And then she’s laughing, even though she’s still catching her breath. “Did you think you were hurting me?”

Ellie’s just a little bit offended. “Not, like, very much.”

Abby just shakes her head. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

Maybe she will. She’s tired but not satisfied, because Abby’s still half-dressed, and she would torture herself for all eternity if she wasted this one opportunity to see Abby naked. That, and she guesses that Abby is far less composed than she looks under those tight canvas pants. 

Once she works them off of her and settles between Abby’s thighs, Ellie’s breath comes short.

“Holy fuck, Abby. This is what you've been hiding from me?” It's not like she’s never seen a pussy before. Nothing could surprise her anymore. Except, maybe, this. Tight blonde curls that Ellie could bury herself in frame thick lips, already shining and parted. The pink tip of her swollen clit peeking out. It twitches under her breath, and Ellie just about cums on the spot. 

She can tell Abby’s nervous being observed like this—watching Ellie carefully, lip pinched between her teeth. Trying hard not to move. “Are you just gonna look, or are you going to do something?” 

“Impatient,” Ellie teases. She runs her hands over Abby’s inner thighs, making her flex and sigh. “You need to relax.” 

She can’t take her eyes off that pulsing bead. She does something she’s never done before, more out of impulse than any real need, because Abby is soaked already—she lets a carefully-placed droplet of spit fall from her lips onto Abby’s clit. 

Abby’s hips lift from the mattress, and she actually growls. “Ellie.”

“I know.” Her voice is thick with awe. Admiration. She could do this for fucking hours. Just look. Just watch her whine and plead. 

But instead of extending her torture, Ellie runs her thumb through Abby’s wetness, settling just below her clit. Withholding for a second too long. Abby is already falling apart, and it fills Ellie with a dangerous kind of warmth. 

Then, so gently, her thumb circles over Abby’s clit. 

Abby’s head shoots up from the bed, eyes wide, fingers taut in the bedsheets. “Fuck, Ellie—!”

“Yeah,” Ellie chuckles lightly, lowering herself until she feels Abby’s warmth against her skin, “I know.” 

She loses any commitment she had to teasing the moment her tongue is on Abby’s cunt, because she’s fucking drunk with it. The way she tastes, the way new waves of arousal keep spilling into Ellie’s mouth. The way her clit twitches against Ellie’s nose as she buries herself deeper. The way Abby’s hips fuck into her, spreading slick all over her lips and chin. 

Abby’s fingers tangle in her hair, pulling hard. She’s making loud, desperate noises that will absolutely wake up anyone sleeping next door. Ellie consumes her with sloppy, messy need. 

The moment Ellie sinks two fingers into her, she feels Abby start to clamp down. Those rhythmic pulses squeezing her fingers can only mean one thing. 

Her grip tightens on Ellie’s hair until her scalp aches. Her thighs tense at Ellie’s ears, and for a moment, she’s actually convinced Abby might choke her to death. Not the worst way to go out, all things considered. 

“Oh, fuck!” Her head slams back hard against the mattress, muscled torso arching into the air. 

Ellie doesn’t want to slow down. She can’t. She fucks her until Abby is trembling and squirming and begging her to stop.

It takes several minutes before Abby can speak. Then, it all seems to hit her at once. She gives Ellie a horrified look and covers her face in her hands. “That’s never happened to me before.”

Ellie wipes her chin along Abby’s hip, then rests there. “You’ve never had an orgasm before?”

Abby peeks between fingers. “That’s not— you know what? Shut the fuck up.” 

“Oh, I know what you mean.” Ellie runs a hand up her abdomen—more for her own pleasure than Abby’s—feeling those muscles ripple and twitch at her touch. “You mean nobody’s made you cum in five seconds flat.” 

“I hate you.” She says it flatly, without meaning it. There’s not enough fight left in her to mean it. 

“It seems like you like me a lot, actually.”

Slowly, with Ellie settling at her side, Abby starts to go slack. Too tired to keep herself taut. Ellie runs gentle fingers over her bicep and down her forearm, meeting Abby’s big hands—exploring their creases, their lines.

Her own voice sounds hoarse when she finds it. “Was that okay?”

Abby turns to look at her. The redness of activity has started to fade, and she still looks fucking beautiful. Ellie resists the urge to kiss her again. 

“Ellie, I don’t know what to say.” 

She could tease her a little longer. Abby Anderson, finally speechless? Must’ve rocked her world. Must’ve launched her into outer space. Ellie wouldn’t mind a little ego-stroking.

But she doesn’t, and neither of them speaks. They lie there quietly, Abby’s warmth wrapped around her, Ellie always in motion, always touching, until she drifts to sleep. 

——

Ellie’s phone is buzzing when she wakes up. She squints and tries to locate it, arm dangling blindly over the edge of the bed. 

Abby’s bed. 

She’ll unpack that later.

Her phone lights up with seven missed calls and a barrage of texts from Dina. 

“ELLIE”

“DID YOU DIE?”

“TEXT ME IF UR ALIVE xo”

“did you fuck abby anderson”

“CALL ME!!!”

She smiles, allows herself one moment of self-satisfaction, and sends a quick reply: “alive. will tell u about it later”

And then Abby is stirring, mumbling as she comes out of sleep, and Ellie feels it all come rushing again. The dizzying, off-balance lurch of everything that happened last night. 

She wants to make sure Abby is still alive. Gently, she runs a hand over Abby’s cheek, half expecting her to flinch away. She doesn’t.

“You good?” Again, stupid. 

“Yeah,” she says quietly.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Abby contemplates the ceiling, massaging slow circles into her temple. “Well, you're still ruining my life.” 

Ellie can’t keep herself still, not when she’s curled up so close to Abby. Not when she can make out every ridge of muscle on her chest, her stomach. Her hand dips lower, meeting soft curls. “Can I keep ruining it?” 

Abby answers by parting her legs, lifting her hips a little. Inviting her with a sigh. 

Ellie’s content to return to this fucking bliss, when Abby goes completely stiff. She stops. 

“What time is it?”

She tries to remember what her phone screen looked like. “Like, after eight.”

“Eight?! Fuck Ellie, I have practice.”

“It's a weekend.” 

“Yeah, and I still have practice.” But Abby hasn't made a move to shove her off and get out of bed, which she could definitely do. 

“Maybe you should quit.”

Abby’s laugh turns into a whimper as Ellie sucks Abby’s nipple into her mouth, her back arching into the touch. “Jesus Christ.”

“You want me to stop?”

“Just…” She grabs a handful of Ellie’s hair. “Hurry up.” 

Abby Anderson has just had lesbian sex for the first time in her life and is already bossing her around. Ellie's sort of proud. 

“Yes, Captain.” 

——

While Abby gets dressed, she lets Ellie watch her from the bed. Ellie doesn't ever, ever want to get up.

Abby tightens her braid in the mirror. Suddenly she's back to rugby captain Anderson, hard and invulnerable. But then she gives Ellie a softer look. “You're going to have to get out of my room before Nora gets back.”

Right. Abby’s mysteriously absent roommate. 

“I like it here.”

The other thing is, once she leaves, this will be over. Whatever this is. And Ellie knows how this story goes. Abby goes back to Owen. Ellie gets stoned and finds some other girl to fuck. Neither of them talk about it. 

“I usually grab lunch after practice. You can come, if you don’t have class or something.”

She does have class. She’s already planning to skip. 

“Are you asking me on a date?”

Abby inhales sharply. “No.” 

“Okay, then. Lunch, but not a date.” She rolls onto her back, soaking up the feeling of Abby’s mattress a little longer—the warm spot she’s left behind. “I can do that.”

“Please don’t be weird about this, okay?”

“I don’t know if you’ve met me, Abby, but I’ve never been weird a day in my life.”

“Okay, idiot.” Abby finishes lacing up her sneakers, then tosses Ellie’s wrinkled clothes onto the bed. “I have to go. Just… don’t touch anything while I’m gone.”

She gives Ellie a final once-over. A final what-the-fuck-have-I-just-done? And Ellie lets her, knowing it won’t be the last time.

-------------

Taglist: @smellslike-updyke @ellies-moth-to-a-flame @cinnamonstrr @elliemulate @gardengnosticator @arabellyn @abbysreal-wife @winestainedwhiskers @thenameissnix @enmauchimaki @rareanduselessbird (reply to be added or removed!)

AAAHHHH this took me forever I hope you guys like it <3

[iamumbra195]

School Bus Graveyard incorrect quotes because I'm bored

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Taylor: Look how creepy it is looking down this hallway.

Ashlyn: I'm gonna get vertigo.

Aiden: I'm a Virgo!

Tyler, deadpan: No, you're a virgin.

...

Aiden: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!

Tyler: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD

Aiden: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING ASHLYN WITH ME

Logan, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

...

Taylor: Why is Tyler so upset?

Logan: He took one of those “Which Character Are You?” quizzes

Taylor: And...?

Logan: He got Aiden.

...

Ashlyn: What did you do with the phantom's body?

Aiden: What didn’t I do with the body?

Everyone:

Aiden: Okay, that sounded more sexual than I intended. I disposed of the phantom respectfully.

...

Aiden: Here’s a fun Christmas idea. We hang mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it.

Logan: Aiden, no.

Ben, with text to speech: Mistlefoe.

Logan: Please stop encouraging him.

...

Taylor: Who thinks I can fit 15 marshmallows in my mouth?

Tyler: You’re a hazard to society

Aiden: And a coward. DO TWENTY.

...

Emma, trying to be nice to Ashlyn's new friends: Would you like to stay for dinner?

Mike, excited for his daughter: WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY FOREVER?

...

Logan: What's a word thats a mix between 'sad' and 'mad'?

Ben: Disgruntled, miserable, desolated-

Aiden: Smad.

...

Ashlyn: Why are you on the floor?

Aiden: I'm depressed.

Aiden: Also I was stabbed, can you get Ben, please.

...

Taylor: Aiden and I were crossing the street, and this dude drove by and honked at us

Ashlyn, sighing: What did he do?

Taylor: he chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and...

Aiden: Who wants a steering wheel?

...

Aiden: If I accidentally sat on a voodoo doll of myself, would I be trapped forever in that position, doomed to starve to death?

Logan: How am I supposed to know?

Tyler: You say that as if we don’t use you as a source of knowledge of the occult.

Logan: ...You wouldn't be trapped.

...

Ashlyn: Tyler, keep an eye on Aiden today. He's going to say something to the wrong person and get punched.

Tyler: Sure, I’d love to see him get punched.

Ashlyn: Try again.

Tyler, sighing: I will stop Aiden from getting punched.

...

Aiden, holding a python: Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him

Tyler: You did WHAT–

Ben: William Snakespeare

...

Ashlyn: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life

Taylor: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind?

Ashlyn: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die.

Aiden: edible

...

Taylor, whispering to Aiden, who’s on the phone with Ashlyn: Ask her something!

Aiden: How are you feeling?

Ashlyn: Fine.

Taylor: Something personal!

Aiden: At what age did you start hearing voices?

...

Aiden: If I die, my funeral is going to be the biggest party ever and you’re all invited

Logan: If?

Tyler: Great, the only party I’d actually go to and he might not even die.

...

Logan: We need a distraction.

Ashlyn: Is anyone here good at jumping up and down and making weird noises?

Aiden, whispering: My time has come

...

Tyler: Where are you going?

Taylor: To get ice cream or commit a felony, I’ll decide on the way there

Tyler: I'll come with

...

Mike, buying a whole bag of knives, guns and other weapons like he's going to war on a random Tuesday: I can explain

Jacob (shop owner): Can you?

Mike: If you give me thirty seconds to think of a lie.

...

Taylor: Heads up, if you try to make a candle with food colouring, it will just sink to the bottom of the glass, and when the flame eventually reaches the bottom all the food colouring will catch fire and become one giant tall flame that you cannot possibly blow out and the glass will start to crack and then you'll throw your tea on it in a panic and then the extremely hot food colouring will boil and sizzle horribly and then the glass will shatter.

Tyler, sighing: What did you do?

Taylor, wailing: A MISTAKE

...

Mr. Thomas: What are your goals?

Ashlyn: To pet all the dogs.

Mr. Thomas: No, I meant your goals for this trip.

Ashlyn: To pet all the dogs in Savannah.

...

Logan: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming?

Ashlyn: Does anyone in this godforsaken group ever think before they speak?

...

Taylor: Aiden isn’t answering his phone

Ashlyn: I’ll call

Taylor: Ben and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-

Aiden: Hello?

...

Aiden: I was arrested for being too cool.

Tyler: The charges were dropped due to a lack of supporting evidence.

...

Aiden: Jail is no fun. I’ll tell you that much

Taylor: You’ve been to jail?

Aiden: Once. In Monopoly.

...

Mike: You love me, right?

Emma: Normally, I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere and I don’t like it.

...

Aiden: Let’s watch Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

Ashlyn: Okay

Aiden: And make out during the scary parts.

Ashlyn: The-

Ashlyn: The scary parts?

Ashlyn: Of Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

...

Ashlyn: How petty can you get?

Tyler: I once edited a Wikipedia article to win an argument I was wrong about.

Taylor: I KNEW IT-

...

Aiden: I've already sent good vibes your way… they’re coming. There’s nothing you can do to stop them.

Logan: This is the most threatening way I’ve ever been cheered up.

...

Mike: So what’s for dinner?

Emma, staring at the food she just burnt: Regret.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

That's all for today!

[noellawrites]

Belly of the Beast - Sonny Carisi x reader

summary: Reader has been hooking up with Sonny and gets kidnapped by William Lewis, who is determined to get them pregnant against their will. Reader does eventually become pregnant and is unsure of the paternity of the baby.

AFAB reader but no specific pronouns used.

warnings: rape, abduction, torture, pregnancy, discussion of abortion, canon-typical violence

The night before you were taken was completely normal. No alarm bells ringing in your brain, no voice telling you not to go into work the following day. You were spending the night with your co-worker, Sonny Carisi, and having amazing sex as usual. It was the kind of intimate intercourse that was normal with him, making you feel so special and loved.

As detectives in the same Manhattan SVU squad, you had to keep your companionship a secret. You both loved your jobs and you knew it could cause trouble if anyone found out. Besides, Sonny was brand new to the squad, and you knew Liv would transfer one of you in a heartbeat if she found out.

It happened so fast. One moment you were grabbing a cup from the cabinet in your apartment, the next moment a gun was being held to your head.

“N-no, please—“ you gasp, mind racing. You were wearing your holster, but your gun was still locked in your safe. You weren’t thinking this morning. Your mind was scattered from last night’s events, and it was about to massively screw you over.

“Gotta say I’m offended, sweet cheeks. No warm welcome for an old friend?” William Lewis says with a sinister smile, “I just knew I had to come back for you, such a sweet young thing. Couldn’t stop thinking about what I wanted to do to you, to Olivia Benson’s protégée. Hit you both where it hurts.”

His sentence is punctuated with a swift slam of the gun to the side of your head, knocking you out cold on your kitchen floor.

—

The first thing you notice after regaining consciousness are the handcuffs attaching your hands to the pipes on the wall and binding your feet together.

The room you were in was bare except for the pipes, the cuffs and you. It looked to be a utility closet with no windows, only a lone lightbulb above you with a string attached.

Duct tape covered your mouth, leaving you unable to scream. You thrashed around, tugging on your cuffs, hoping someone might hear.

Your eyes darted around the room. Were you still in Manhattan? Were you even in New York anymore? You had no idea what time it was or even what day. Your squad had to be looking for you by now, after you didn’t show up at work.

You didn’t have to guess for long, because the door swung open to reveal William Lewis, smiling down at you.

“God, you’re even cuter than I remember. Knew I needed you right away,” he sighs, stepping inside and closing the door behind you.

“You scream, I shoot,” he says, hand moving to his side as he pulls out a gun and fixes it on you.

He leans over, tearing the duct tape off your mouth along with some of your skin.

“Gotta say, I’m pretty hurt. Detective Amaro leaves, new guy comes in and you start hooking up with him?” Lewis sighs, shaking his head.

“What do you want from me?” you huff, tugging on your handcuffs again.

“This time, I’m taking what’s mine,” he smirks, “I’ve got a bed set up for us. Thought of you with all the other holes I fucked, and I knew I had to get my hands on you myself.”

“What, you mean all the women and children you raped, beat and killed?” you snap, writhing around as he un-cuffs you from the pipes and then re-cuffs you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you the royal treatment. I’ve got something special for you, little one. You might’ve started out as Benson’s protégée, but you’ll end up carrying mine,” he laughs.

Your blood runs cold at his words, knowing he must be planning on raping you. You wracked your brain for all the delaying tactics that Olivia’s taught you, and everything she’s told you about Lewis’ temper.

Lewis leans over and pulls you up, grabbing his gun with the other hand and fixing it on you.

“You’re insane, you know that? I’m not letting you do this,” you grunt.

Lewis yanks the door open and pushes you out, hand holding onto your cuffed ones. You look around what appears to be an abandoned warehouse for a few seconds before you are pushed down onto a dirty mattress.

“Olivia wasn’t enough of a thrill, so you just had to come for me, is that it? What about Amanda, is she next?” you challenge.

“Olivia is boring and Amanda’s all used up,” he laughs, “you, however, are perfect for this.”

“What are you gonna do to me?” you hiss as Lewis turns you over, pinning your hands under your back.

“This sweet little womb is going to carry the next rapist, the next little life-ruiner,” Lewis says, fingers tracing over your lower stomach, “first, he’ll rip out of you, ruining your body forever. And then he’ll follow in his daddy’s footsteps when he grows up.”

“What makes you so sure you’ll get me pregnant? And that it’ll be a boy?” you huff.

Each word that came out of William Lewis’ mouth made you even more terrified, your mind racing to rescue yourself from this situation.

“I’m more than just a pretty face, Detective (y/l/n). Right now is your most fertile time, according to the chart you keep in your desk. And we both know you’re too sappy and weak to get an abortion,” he laughs, shaking his head at you. So weak, so pathetic. An SVU Detective who couldn’t even save themself from becoming a victim.

“That’s— you have no idea what you’re talking about,” you gasp, thrashing around.

“Now you’re gonna make this hard on me? Fine,” he sighs, grabbing a bottle of alcohol from beside the mattress and unscrewing the cap, “drink up, baby.”

—

Over the next few days, you were out of your mind. If you weren’t passed out or asleep, you were drunk or high at Lewis’ force, shoving edibles down your throat and washing them down with bottles of cheap vodka.

Your throat burned, stung red with pain, and your body was dirty and disgusting. As if the drugs weren’t enough, Lewis was getting off on burning and scarring you, too. Lighters, cigarettes and metal objects were on rotation across your skin.

The worst was the rape, for which you preferred to be unconscious for. At least if you weren’t mentally there, you weren’t being traumatized again.

After the first few times, you knew you would never get a good night of sleep, never have a calm moment, never become intimate without feeling what you felt when William Lewis forced himself inside you, fucking at a brutal pace, spitting and screaming and grunting horrible things as he used and abused your body for his own pleasure.

He came inside of you as much as he physically could, getting off on mocking you for becoming his rape victim and eventually the carrier of his monstrous offspring.

After a few days, he figured SVU would be catching onto him, ever loyal to their own. He couldn’t risk moving you so he cuffed you back to the pipes, kissed your lips and disappeared. William Lewis had his fun with you, but he needed to keep moving if he was to avoid arrest.

You hadn’t been fed the entire time, barely given any water and mostly having had drugs and alcohol forced down your throat. You didn’t hear anything as SVU busted in, Olivia and Sonny leading ahead as they sprinted towards your weak figure.

“(Y/n)? Oh fuck— oh ma’ god—“ Sonny’s voice breaks, looking up at Olivia with tears in his eyes.

Liv pulls out her radio, immediately ordering a bus for an officer down.

“Baby, c’mon, it’s Sonny. ‘M right here—,” he coos, taking off his jacket and laying it over you to give you some privacy. You were fully naked and chained up, blood and burn marks everywhere. It didn’t take a genius to understand what had happened.

“Mmmph—“ you mumble as he unlocks the cuffs with the standard key used by NYPD.

“Ah know ‘ya can hear me, jus’ hold on. We’re gettin’ a bus, okay?” he sniffles, hand on your arm. Sonny wished more than anything that he could take your pain and make it his.

Sonny scrambled to grab a water bottle before Liv stuck her hand out, keeping him back.

“I know you want to help, Carisi, but the inside of their mouth could have DNA evidence,” Liv says with a pinched expression.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill whoeva’ did this,” Sonny growls, looking around as his blood boils. You had only been gone for three days, but it had felt like an eternity. Sonny had never been so afraid in his entire life.

—

If you ever had any question of what you and Sonny were to each other, it was answered in the days following your attack. Sonny spent a week and a half straight with you in your apartment, doing anything you needed. He bathed you, cooked for you, gave you space if you needed and held you when you woke up shaking or crying from a nightmare.

You returned to work a month later, even though Liv wanted you to take a longer break. She kept a close eye on you, having gone through multiple horrific William Lewis experiences herself, although none included rape itself.

A week into your return, Olivia pulled you into her office and gave you the grim update that there were basically no updates. Very much unlike him, Lewis had disappeared or gone into hiding. And Liv had one request for you: she wanted you to take a pregnancy test.

You laughed, taken aback at the absurd notion. Sure, you hadn’t had your period yet, but it wasn’t uncommon for survivors of extreme trauma. But Liv wanted to be sure, as Lewis’ mission with you was to force you to carry his offspring.

“I-I think the worst part is—“ you gulp, “he was right. I don’t have the balls to get an abortion. I’ve always wanted a baby, and I just— god, Liv, if I’m pregnant by my rapist, I have no idea what I’ll do.”

“And what about you and Carisi?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Me… and Carisi?”

“(Y/n), I’m not blind,” she smiles softly.

“We haven’t— you know, since the assault. I just can’t. But that would be even worse, I mean, I know Sonny would stick around. Both of us together, raising Lewis’ baby? A-and with the threat of him coming back and wanting custody? It’s just too much. I would put that poor baby up for adoption,” you sigh.

“Take the test and we’ll figure things out from there, Detective (y/l/n). I’ll be here for you every step of the way,” Olivia promises.

You both stand up and she gives you a hug, noticing how your body trembles. She had a hunch you’d been like that since the assault, and she couldn’t blame you. She’d be lying if she said Lewis didn’t haunt her dreams sometimes, too.

You took the test in your apartment, alone. Sonny’s shift ended two hours after yours, which gave you enough time to grab some tests from the bodega and take them with your fingers crossed praying to not be pregnant.

You still had flashbacks to those moments, the ugly ones where you were drunk or high and still awake with Lewis on top of you. You saw his repulsive smile every time you closed your eyes, hearing him babble about knocking you up and wrecking your life even more.

Your job was everything to you and you loved helping people, but you had never fully understood how it felt to be a sex crimes victim until it happened to you. Until your power was stripped away, every piece of your humanity torn to shreds. You never knew what it felt to want to burn your body, to destroy the evidence, to put an end to the agony plaguing you day in and day out.

You never wanted to die as much as when you flipped over those tests, seeing the plus signs and knowing you were giving William Lewis exactly what he wanted.

After a few days of moping, Sonny sat you up in bed and reminded you of the small, but still possible, chance that it could be his baby. You hadn’t used a condom with Sonny on the night before your abduction, though you usually did.

“Baby, jus’ get it checked. If it’s ours—“

“And what if it’s not, Sonny? You really want to raise a baby conceived with my rapist?” you cry, burying your head in your hands.

“Wouldn’t want t’give Lewis the satisfaction of lettin’ him raise it himself, doll. ‘N it’s still gonna be ‘ya baby, have ‘ya DNA either way,” Sonny reminds you, stroking your arm softly and gently.

“I-I’ll go in for a fetal DNA test,” you agree, allowing Sonny to call and make an appointment for your next day off.

In those moments between, you lived in a sweet purgatory outside of your body. The only times you felt grounded were when Sonny’s hands were on you, holding you, kissing your forehead, lacing your fingers together.

You couldn’t believe a tiny organism was growing inside of you, relying on you for nutrients and nourishment and love. Something so innocent that might be born from something so awful. You couldn’t even close your eyes when you thought about it, you just saw Lewis’ scarred face and his eerie, victorious smile.

“You’re sure you don’t want me t’come with ‘ya?” Sonny frowns, turning to face you as he buttons up his dress shirt.

“I’ll be okay, I promise,” you say, though you’re not so sure.

“If not, call me or Liv, alright? One of us can come, we don’t want ‘ya t’be alone,” Sonny says, stepping towards you and placing a hand on your shoulder gently.

“I will, Sonny. Don’t worry,” you smile, leaning into his warm embrace.

You were told the results could take up to two weeks to arrive, so you went back home and looked around your apartment. It was a one bedroom, barely big enough for you and a baby. If the baby was Sonny’s, would you move in together? Would you have to switch departments? Would you get engaged?

And if it was Lewis’? You loathed the thought, but it was the more likely possibility. You wish you could give it up for adoption, but the truth was that it would be your baby too. Could you really give your baby away just because it was conceived through rape?

—

Two weeks later, like clockwork, your phone rang. The caller ID was your doctor’s office, so you glanced at Sonny. He was none the wiser, sitting on the couch and reading through case files.

“H-hello?” you answer, ducking into the bedroom. Your hand shook as you held your cell phone up to your ear.

“Hello, is this (y/n) (y/l/n)?”

“Yes, that’s me,” you say nervously.

“I have the results of your fetal DNA test. The sample from Dominick Carisi Junior is a 99.7 percent paternal match.”

“Wh— a-are you sure?” you whisper. Your shaky hand comes up to your mouth as you blink slowly, hardly believing your ears.

“Yes, with a match that close, it is virtually impossible to have another paternal match,” the voice on the other line explains.

“Okay, thank you. So much. I-I really appreciate it,” you smile.

You exchange pleasantries and hang up, tiptoeing out of your bedroom as you glance at Sonny again. Your last look at him before telling him he would become a father.

“Sonny? I have some really good news.”

[elliespassagerprincess]

Drunk texting - ellie williams x reader

this story is based off the song drunk texting by (name i will not mention) and Jhene Aiko. If you can please listen to the song as you're reading:)

Pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

requests are open, send me your thoughts:)

Warning: Alcohol use, emotional angst, late-night texting, mentions of sex, unresolved feelings, soft heartbreak.

Setting: Modern College AU

Summary: After a night of drinking, a risky text is sent to Ellie — one that unravels buried feelings and turns their dynamic upside down.

Masterlist

1:58 AM

The party had long since blurred.

You were stretched across the living room couch, head tilted back, red cup dangling loosely from your fingers. Bass still pulsed faintly through the floor, though the crowd had thinned. You should’ve gone home. You should’ve stayed home.

But you were tipsy now. And stupid.

Which meant only one thing:

You were about to text her.

Ellie Williams.

Your ex. Or almost-ex. Or not-quite-anything that still managed to hurt like hell.

Your finger hovered over her name.

You hadn’t spoken in weeks—not really, not since that fight.

Not since you said you were done pretending.

She never said you weren’t.

She just... let you go.

But your chest was too heavy, your brain too slow, and your fingers too fast.

you:

you up?

Delivered.

Read.

Nothing.

You dropped your head back and shut your eyes.

This was a bad idea.

The last time you saw her was a month ago. Cold air. Hot tears.

You yelling in the middle of her apartment while she stood still, staring at you like you were a puzzle she couldn’t solve anymore.

“You don’t say how you feel, Ellie,” you’d snapped. “You don’t do anything until it’s too late.”

“You always want more from me,” she said quietly. “And I never know how to give it without ruining it.”

“I’m not asking for perfect. I’m asking for real.”

She didn’t stop you when you left.

But her hand lingered on the door longer than it should have.

2:14 AM

Your phone buzzed.

Ellie:

what do you want?

Your breath caught.

She was always like this—short, cautious. But she answered.

you, you typed. Then erased it.

you:

to talk

A pause. Three dots. Then nothing.

2:22 AM

Ellie:

you’re drunk

You:

so?

Ellie:

you only miss me when you’re not sober

you only remember how we felt when you can’t feel anything else

You:

that’s not true.

I miss you every fucking day.

That one stung. You knew it would. You meant it to.

Your phone buzzed again.

Ellie:

then why did you leave?

Your thumb hovered over the screen.

You:

because you never asked me to stay.

Silence.

You waited, heart racing, guilt settling like fog in your chest. Maybe that was too much. Maybe she’d block you. Maybe—

Ellie:

i didn’t know how

i still don’t

You blinked hard. The room spun.

You:

i’m outside

You didn’t even remember walking to her place. You just knew your hand was curled into a fist, knuckles lightly tapping her apartment door in the cold.

It opened slowly.

Ellie stood there in a hoodie and sweats, bare feet, eyes tired and red-rimmed. Like she hadn’t slept in days.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said. Voice small.

“I know,” you whispered. “But I needed to see you.”

She stepped back. Just enough.

You walked inside.

The place looked the same—records on the floor, your old hoodie still slung over the back of the couch. You stared at it.

“You kept it.”

“I keep a lot of things I shouldn’t,” she said quietly.

You turned. She was watching you like you were a dream she couldn’t decide was good or bad.

“Why did you answer?” you asked.

Ellie’s throat bobbed. “Because I always do. Because I want to hate you, but I don’t. Because even now... I still think about you before I go to sleep.”

Silence stretched like a wound.

“I hate that you only come back when you’re drunk,” she whispered.

You stepped closer.

“I hate that it’s the only time I feel brave enough to.”

She didn’t pull away when you reached for her hand.

The couch was cold. Her body was warm. You sat beside each other in that too-familiar way, knees brushing, fingers playing with the hem of her sleeve.

“You think if we were better at talking, we wouldn’t have fallen apart?” you asked.

Ellie laughed softly. “No. I think if I’d told you how much I loved you, you might’ve stayed.”

You froze.

She never said it back when you did. Not once.

Now you didn’t know what to say.

She turned her head. Her green eyes were glassy. Raw.

“I did,” she whispered. “I just... couldn’t say it out loud.”

You leaned in before you could stop yourself.

It wasn’t a kiss, not yet. Just your foreheads pressed together, your breath mixing with hers, that ache rising again, warm and hungry and full of everything you never said.

“I still love you,” you said, barely audible.

Ellie closed her eyes. “God, I wish I didn’t.”

Then she kissed you.

And it tasted like regret. Like forgiveness. Like maybe this time, you wouldn’t let go.

[xxsycamore]

╰┈➤ When you discover a mysterious hole in a restroom inside the Crown castle, you're ready to catch the ill-doers of whatever forbidden exchange is taking place and take them straight to Victor. Little do you know, your curiosity would lead you to give more and more of yourself to that ridiculous cause, night after night. And you might just end up enjoying it.

— William, Harrison, Liam, Elbert, Alfons, Ellis, Jude, Roger, Victor x f!Reader

• rating: 🔞 E (MDNI) • tags: Glory Hole; Anonymous Sex; Corruption; Hand Jobs; Blow Jobs; Oral Sex; Come Eating; Come Swallowing; Deepthroating; Masturbation; Dirty Thoughts; Smoking; Objectification; Overstimulation; Penis Size; Multiple Orgasms; Ruined Orgasms; Vaginal Sex; Vaginal Fingering; Size Difference; Large Cock; Creampie; Breast Fucking; Dirty Talk; Squirting/Vaginal Ejaculation • wordcount:  5,836 • masterlist

a/n: I've had this idea for a while now and here it is, finally. One of the longest smuts I've written and definitely one that I'm proud of. Enjoy!

⏮ ⏯ ⏭ NIN - The Wretched

Visions of Temptation 2024/KINKTOBER DAY 2: Glory Holes

NINE NIGHTS. 

Among the many things you've been warned about when you first started living at the castle, you couldn't help but be curious the most about one thing. That infamous communal restroom located at the very end of the left wing's top-floor corridor. Remoted and basically isolated from the lively parts of the castle, if it weren't for the obscene rumor Alfons shared with you, you might not have discovered such a place exists at all. Actually, you're still not convinced if it truly exists. It's all too much like the hedonistic bastard to mess with your head like that.

That's why you're on a mission to do a little investigation on your own.

Arriving at the dimly lit location, your anticipation is flattened by the lack of anything obscure to be found. The restroom hardly differs from the ones you've seen around the place: well-maintained and designed accordingly to match the elegant style of the castle. One side is for the ladies, the other for the gentlemen; two different entrances, a wall separating them right in the middle.

You don't know why you even bother going as far as peeking an eye inside the stalls, but nothing appears to be amiss there as well.

Apart from one thing.

You nearly missed it in the sparse light, but the cut-out hole in the wooden wall inside the second stall stands starkly against the otherwise well-polished surface of it.

Suddenly it all clicks, and you remember Alfons' words.

"Rumor has it that around eleven in the evening, people go there to partake in rather... scandalous exchanges. Both parties are provided with anonymity and everything that takes place inside the restroom stays there. We might be a modest group of inhibitors here, little Robin, but everyone has their needs. We don't judge which part of the partition you choose to be on."

This has to be about drugs! As outrageous as it is, it perfectly explains the hole - large enough to serve for the purpose of one such "exchange", the wooden wall in-between separating provider and client.

You chose to linger around here just early enough to be able to leave without witnessing what does - or does not - happen in the established hour, and just close enough to it in case if, for some reason, you'd want to stay and find out for yourself. This means you can perfectly well remain waiting in the stall, catch the culprit red-handed, and take him straight to Victor. You're sure he knows nothing of this, it can't be otherwise.

1.

You don't have to dwell in your thoughts for much longer, because in the perfectly tranquil air around you, you're able to pick up the soft noise of the door opening on the other side. Readily, you prepare to grab hold of whatever is inserted through the hole and see if your hunch is correct.

Little do you know, the sight will make you reconsider at once. You blink your eyes several times when you look down.

It takes you everything not to scream, barely being fast enough to clasp a hand around your own mouth, as soon as you realize what you're looking at.

Whoever is on the other side of the restroom is currently giving access to a certain part of themselves, and by the way it stands erect and demanding attention, you can imagine just one possible scenario of what the person on your side of the partition is expected to do with it.

The breath hitches in your throat. Will you be found out if you were to exit right now? Even if you won't be seen, even if anyone else could have been here, in your place…

A very dangerous thought fills your head, and you know listening to it should be the last thing you do. Still, for the sake of getting to the bottom of this and not disrupting any of it just yet, you start to think it might not be that bad if you just…

Hesitantly, your hand reaches out until your fingertips can almost graze the very tip of the cock in front of you. Eyes falling closed for a second, nine different faces flash through your mind. Nine possibilities. It's as if this changes everything between you and the mysterious man on the other side, when in reality it changes nothing at all. You think back to your fellow Crownmates, as if trying to see if the thought of any of them pushes you away, but to no avail.

You might have lost your mind. Fingers slowly curling around the hot flesh in front of you, the initial contact is far easier than you thought. You start pumping the hardness in your fist right away, noting the way it slightly swells in your hand, despite already seeming quite aroused.

The slight tremble of your fingers is perhaps a welcomed side-effect of the adrenaline coursing through your system, as the cock in your hand is very receptive to your actions. You wonder to yourself if the person on the other side is used to this sort of thing. Or maybe it's his first time here too, his curiosity getting the better of him. Just like you, in a way. However, he's clearly being able to get off on that thrill. It must be contagious because you become bolder with your movements and your eyes are no longer shy to the sight in front of you. It's embarassing not to be able to take your eyes away, but you can't help it - there's something so fine about it; the size and shape of it, the saturated pink color of the glossy tip, the small bud of precum threatening to spill over with excitement on the next enthusiastic throb…

In just a couple more strokes, the object of your admiration closes the spectacle with a rather grandiose final act… The vigorous spurts of its culmination leave a milky-white trail down the crevices of your fingers as you marvel at the sheer amount he came.

Giving him one last base-to-top stoke, nice and slowly, you catch yourself being so captivated by the obscure display that you're almost disappointed when it all ends and you snap back to reality.

Time to splash some cold water on your face.

2.

The sound of a grandfather clock announcing eleven in the evening is coming from afar but you still hear it without mistake. You've found yourself in this cursed place again, albeit with hesitation. Going back to the events of last night leaves you with mixed feelings. For one, you swear you're being fooled with. Is this Alfons' sick idea of having fun? Luring you to some shady place, provoking you to commit unspeakable acts… You bet there are no other parties even involved in this to begin with. Who knows what the hole really is for, but to use it the way he did… it truly takes an unhinged imagination, you have to admit. Now you just have to find him back at the scene of the crime - God knows they always come back - and this time you won't be so generous. It's not exactly a plan that you have but you'll do something, anything.

Still, you can't help but notice there was something off about last night's mysterious visitor. He didn't quite strike you to be anything like Alfons. Not that you want to spend too much time thinking about what he's supposed to be like down there, or the specific mannerisms you can tell him by, or…

Suddenly there's movement and you hold your breath in anticipation as you prepare to look down.

This is…definitely not the same cock.

This can't be.

Without thinking much, you grab a hold of the sizeable appendage as if to explore it more. Maybe the limited light is playing tricks on you.

Your thumb grazes a slightly protruding vein on the side, something you might have missed yesterday, or you might have not. Though the visual difference is becoming less and less the more you overthink it, the feeling of it in your warm palm is notably different. You don't even know how you get on your knees, but you try to make the most of the new angle.

The stranger, whoever he might be, seems to enjoy the way you're fooling around, much to your own surprise. Almost as if he wants to encourage you to explore more, to do whatever you want. Soon enough it becomes awkward to just examine him like that when he's probably here to feel pleasure. Even in your stubbornness to recognize him as the man from last night, you start stroking and massaging the girth in your closed fist. Stimulating the sensitive skin on the head makes it pulse so tantalizingly, and running the fingertip of your other thumb down the protruding vein almost tips him over the edge…You don't mind this reaction. What's more, you pretty much want to finish what you started.

Unexpectedly, the length of the stranger's cock retracts almost completely back inside the hole with just its head sticking out. The sturdy repetitive motion indicates that the man is taking care of himself while still giving you access to the product of his upcoming climax.

What does he want you to do with his cum? Does he want to paint your open palms white, or maybe if he could say so, he would prefer to color your lips white with his come?

The moment he finishes with what seems to be a glorious orgasm, your sticky fingertip has almost made it to your mouth in a rush of curiosity. You have no idea what's the use of doing something like this when he won't even be able to see it.

During your haze, you think you see a painted glossy red fingernail as you watch the cock of the stranger disappear.

You must be imagining things.

3.

Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.

You guess that the third time is saved for the shameless.

This is exactly what you are, as you find yourself kneeling on the cool tiles on another late night. The initial shock of finding yet another unfamiliar piece of flesh left at your disposal is washed away by the growing sense of thrill that you're starting to get familiar with, more with each passing night. Combined with just a little bit of "since you're already here".

You wonder how fast can you make this one cum. All this time and you're yet to use your mouth, maybe now is a good chance to try it.

Thankfully the other side knows nothing of the fever rising up to your cheeks. Not feeling eyes on you helps you be bolder with your actions, and you feel like an absolute tease. Once you pop the well-formed head in your mouth, your tongue shows no mercy to the painfully erect cock.

A few agonizing slow licks across the length of it seem to be the last straw for the stranger. But not in the sense you're expecting.

In a flash, your mouth is left to hang open and empty; like a lollipop's been taken away from you. A cold shiver runs through you. Did you go too far? Was it not to his liking?

You're not yet fully seated back on your knees in confusion before he gives you a "second chance". Almost as if you're starved, you hurry to take him in again, saliva overflowing from the corner of your mouth and lubricating him for some earnest bobbing of your head. You're going to pleasure him properly this time.

Except, this leads to the same result.

The pause is shorter now, and you get the impression that he's toying with you. Does he want you to please him, or does he not? Which one is the truth?

You fall for his tricks time and time again, because you just can't help it. Awaiting for him to stick his cock back into the hole is rather humiliating but each time your mouth salivates more with the eagerness to welcome him deep inside. He only stills when he's noticeably on the verge of orgasm, and you take him as deep as he lets you. You're a bit tense at this point - should he snap his hips and thrust further in, you're likely to choke on him.

Drinking down on every last drop of his come, you don't know why you're so relieved that his last gesture was not a lie. You just know that you're left to yourself once again. And the whole ordeal has made you horny.

4.

Another day passes in your busy life as a fairytale keeper.

Most of the missions you're assigned are fast-paced enough to keep you fully occupied; senses being constantly put to the test, mind projecting gruesome pictures you've seen through the day and turning them into words at the end of it, once you sit in front of your typewriter.

Yet there are those little pockets of time when the world slows down for you and your fellow Crown members. Traveling from location to location; gathering in the foyer waiting for Victor… It's easy to zone out.

Your gaze moves from Liam's pretty lips curling in a small laughter as he conversates with Harrison, to Harrison stretching out while he listens; to Elbert's tall frame as he looks out the window next to them, to Alfons staring at him, putting one leg over the other as he stirs the steamy liquid in his cup. Which ones? Which ones of them have visited that place? You have very little to go off of. Someone's hand enters your field of vision. Delicate, long fingers drumming against a hard surface. You dart your gaze to another. Roughened palms. And another. Concealed by dark gloves.

Skin textures. Shoe sizes. Limbs stretching out.

It's not until someone asks you if you're alright - "You've been terribly quiet all this time!" - that you shake off your inappropriate thoughts and scold yourself for having them in the first place.

The next time you find yourself in the stall, you're almost glad to give head to someone who's clearly cutting to the chase. There's not much shuffling or repositioning from the other side of the partition, and you're able to focus on the weight in your mouth.

Tonight's stranger is no less well-endowed but you'd say he's a little more on the thicker side compared to your previous experiences. Accidentally grazing him with your teeth makes you hear an annoyed single stomp of a shoe against the floor tiles on the other side. This only motivates you to do better, and you truly do your best sucking him off.

Your ears pick up something different this time. This quick striking noise reminds you of a match being lit… Even with the task you're focused on, your senses remain sharp, and you swear you can smell cigarette smoke.

Here you are, sucking off some guy while he treats himself to a smoke. Things can't get any cruder from this point on.

But you don't mind it at all. This is of mutual interest for both parties, that's only fair. So you don't think much of it your hand makes its way down south, searching underneath layers of clothing until it finds aching hot flesh, begging to be pleasured.

Getting off to your scandalous adventures has been common practice for you the last few days, but it definitely feels better to claim your pleasure here, at the core moment of it.

The closer you get to your own orgasm, the faster your head moves back and forth. All it takes to send you over the edge is the feeling of hot cum being disposed in your welcoming mouth, and you join him by coming there on the floor, unknown to the stranger.

He loses no time removing his spent cock. You can hear the grinding of a heel as he stamps out his cigarette. And he's gone.

Now you're left to wonder why it feels so good to be used by someone on their smoke break.

5.

Tonight sees you crossing yet another boundary.

Things are going on in a less formulaic fashion, with no hurry at all, and it's not that you're not enjoying it- quite the opposite - but you can't help being curious about something. How bad would it be if you were to gain just a little bit of pleasure for yourself from all of this? Surely you won't be found out if you were to share another piece of yourself with the stranger on the other side different from your mouth and your hands. You're far from the thought that some of the female staff don't know about this place. So you don't hesitate positioning yourself upright and facing the wall, close enough that your body is pressed against it.

You don't ask for much, just to feel that delicious hardness against your swollen folds. The very first contact shoots sparks of pure ecstasy through you. The angry-red tip of the man's cock graces against your clit and you nearly mewl out in pleasure. So you do that again, until you're practically grinding yourself on it like a tool conveniently left for your pleasure.

You'd feel selfish and guilty about this if it weren't for the fact that your actions are getting the stranger off as well. You've already slicked him up with your saliva thoroughly, given him attention which has been enough for others to reach their peak. This one seems to have a rather high endurance, but interestingly no other method of play gets him going the same way as you pleasuring yourself on him. Is this what he wants? You're afraid you're not able to stop now, at least not until you cum. Which happens all too soon, with your legs shaking from overstimulation as the cock underneath you remains swollen and upright and poking your folds again and again while you try to catch your breath.

And then he cums. Just like that, without assistance from your side… Or maybe it's your pleasure that did it for him? This is a strange one, for sure… But you like him.

6.

The cock you're currently stoking with both hands is long and elegant, with a rather pale complexion, further emphasized by the blue-ish veins at the base. You can't help but be gracious with your ministrations as you pleasure it, and surely enough, it doesn't take enough to push the man it belongs to over the edge. He spills thickly in your hands and you kiss the tip of it, careful as not to overstimulate it too much… But when you expect an early end to tonight's rendezvous, it seems like it's far from it. Without any indication of him leaving, you realize he's still pretty much hard. So you resume your actions, albeit timidly at first.

It quickly turns into you full-on sucking him off, seeing that your hands won't be enough anymore. His ample length is a little too much for you to take, so you're relieved once he successfully fills your mouth of his cum, a lot less thicker this time. Except, it's still not over. Such a greedy bastard, exploiting you for greater and greater pleasures each time.

Taking in a large portion of breath and exhaling slowly while you contemplate something, you finally decide to take the next step. You can do what you did last night… but facing the other way around, and maybe, just maybe adding a little bit of penetration to the mix.

It takes little effort nesting him inside your tight core because of how wet you've gotten in the meantime, much to your own surprise. Fine, you can be greedy too. Leaning forward until your palms are flat against the opposite wall of the cramped room, you soon fall into a steady pace fucking yourself back and forth on the man's cock that's once again rock solid and pulsing deliciously inside you.

Despite the high libido of the man, he prefers remaining rather still while you move your hips on him, never breaking his reserved and elegant stance. Huffing out a weary emission of air as you're left to shoulder all of the work, you focus on your own pleasure instead, since you're on the verge of cumming.

Your orgasm is rudely interrupted by the other party's own orgasm as he slips out of you and sprays your aching folds with his emission. Already having taken what he was after, he soon exits your sight, leaving you to your own devices as you finger yourself to a rather unsatisfying orgasm on the floor.

7.

Still holding a grudge from the previous night, your storm in the restroom determined to be as ruthless as you need to be and claim your own pleasure first and foremost.

Little do you know, however, that tonight is going to be another test for you.

You're making yourself familiar with yet another stranger tonight - despite being ready to bet that it's high time you're met with a repeat - as you test the waters on this new shape presented before you. He's thicker than any of the previous men. Hell, he's thicker than anything you've ever seen. The massiveness of it in your hands and how he dwarfs them honestly intimidates you. But you remind yourself of your resolve and decide to remain firm as you slowly take things further with him.

Spending too much time on oral is not a part of the plan as you don't want him coming too soon, but you discover that it has nothing to do with your plans anyway. Fitting him inside your mouth proves to be a challenge, and the pathetic way you just soak him in saliva and withdraw every time you take a little more than his head in your mouth makes you feel embarrassed.

Slowly rising to your feet, you accept that you might have to spend a little more time in here tonight. You hope your legs can take it, as you take off your underwear and stretch yourself open for the big intrusion.

Piercing yourself on his tan cock knocks the air out of your lungs as you feel so, so full of him. Without any option but to take it slowly, you massage and grope at your forms as you try to relax your walls around him as much as you can.

Suddenly the thick knob on the wall which you've been using similarly to the previous two nights becomes rather animated as he withdraws until nearly slipping out of your tight entrance, only to quickly thrust back in. Perhaps he got bored with your excuse of a service so far. Clasping both hands around your mouth, you have no choice but to receive his thrusts, the pace quickly building up, as you have to do your best to remain on your feet. Opting for leaning on the opposite wall instead, you have to choose between balance and keeping your mouth shut, as both prove to be hard to achieve at the same time. The man thrusts in and out of you, without a care in the world, and you don't notice how your hands are sliding further and further down until you're practically bent over the tiny space.

This man is an absolute monster. Time goes by in a haze as you find yourself cumming and again around the thick cock inside you, drenching him in your juices until they begin to run down your legs and onto the tiled floor. His stamina is insane - the fact that he can keep going while you're a wrecked mess is scaring you, and you don't know how much more you can take.

When you can't move anymore to meet his thrusts, thankfully his own pace becomes broken in telltale signs of his upcoming orgasm. You need his cum inside you like a trophy. You worked hard for it.

His load is nothing short of pure virility, copious amounts flooding up your insides and joining the rest of the fluids on the floor in a display of utmost obscenity.

You barely make it to your room on your doe legs.

8.

The previous night left you with a pleasant soreness between your legs and the size you're working with today is too big for you to even think about repeating the same scenario. It's gifted in length; pinkish and with a lot of foreskin. Another new one, much to your surprise. And another absolute monster of a cock.

Since your wrecked pussy is off-limits, you begin to worry about pleasuring this one - especially when you think back to how utterly greedy the last two visitors were.

An idea pops into your head.

You start off with the usual, lubricating the shaft with the wetness of your tongue as you suck, massage and kiss every sensitive spot. And there seem to be plenty of them. It's been some time since you've had such a receptive cock in your hands. It's quite lively with its constant little twitches as you get distracted taking it further in your mouth, almost gagging on its generous length. But enough of that.

Using one hand, you unbutton your shirt while simultaneously stoking the cock in front of you, not wanting to ignore him for a second. Once your breasts are freed, keep your kneeling position but get closer to the wall, hotness rising to your cheeks. Carefully, you guide the large cock to the valley of your breasts.

Another enthusiastic twitch. It's like he falls inlove with your idea right off the bat.

You're happy to see that this works with him to say the least, trying to move your body up and down as you press your breasts together using both hands. The slickness you coated him with provides a nice slide, but for a good measure, you drool down some more of it, watching the erotic display of his cockhead peeking through the gap of your tits on every slide.

Oh, this one is more than enthusiastic. You can tell he won't last much, but you're ready to blame that on the method you use on him more than anything. Is he a boobs man? Would he be just as enthusiastic if you were to let him fuck the crux of your thighs?

"Ahhh! Nghh…"

You freeze for a split second as you swear you hear an audible moan from the other side. Everyone so far has shown so much self-control and was careful as to not let out a sound too loud, and yet this one seems to be unable to hold back.

Needless to say, it motivates you.

You don’t even have to keep going for much longer until the cock between your squeezed breasts erupts and paints your chest white. You lean your head down just a little bit more and you're able to give his angry-red tip a playful lick for goodbye. There's no urgency to satisfying your own need, as you're better off taking care of it in the plush covers of your bed back in your room, for a change. Somehow you're sure that your playmate for the night would have wanted that for you too if he could speak.

9.

With a little over a week's worth of sinful adventures behind your back, you feel the need to take a moment and question how you got here. As scandalous as it is to think that there have been eight different members of Crown visiting that shady place for the same dirty purpose, you strangely find peace in the fact that there's at least one of them you're yet to have come in contact to, in this way.

In this very moment, you're still able to face each one of them individually and not die out of shame, because he could be the one.

So you have to leave it at all. For the sake of your sanity, you have to refrain from going anywhere close to that restroom again.

The cackle of the typewriter dies down as you're ready with the evening's workload of documenting Crown's missions, and now the call of your bed is all too strong to resist. You throw yourself face-first into the soft duvet and realize how cool and nice it feels against your skin. Have you overworked yourself, or is this heat trying to tell you something else? A familiar urge builds up in your lower belly, and you open your eyes just to see the wall clock's hands marking exactly eleven o'clock.

With the material you've gathered from those past days, it should be easy enough for you to find relief on your own. So once your hands slip inside your panties, each finding a point of interest, already soaked in liquid desire, your mind drifts off to a familiar place.

But nothing seems to work. As exciting as everything that has happened to you has been, it's nothing compared to the real thing. Since when you've become like this? A thrill-chaser, being only after what feels good without a care in the world. Much like a certain someone that got you in this mess, to begin with. And now there's a dangerous thought creeping into your head.

It's more of a gamble, to be fair.

Nine nights. The chance of all nine men visiting the hole one after another without a single one of them repeating or skipping is significantly small. Small enough to bet your dignity on it, it seems. Fingers still glistening with juices, you make a bold decision, telling yourself that if anything, you can try and resist touching the final ninth man, should he turn out to be tonight's visitor. 

The hole in the wall is not occupied, and you admit to yourself that you feel disappointed. You're close to turning on your toes and going back to where you came from, but then you hear footsteps approaching, on the other side. Sleek dress shoes, if you're correct. He's taking his time.

Where you expect to find someone's aching hardness, you find an entirely different body part. You stare down in confusion as you see a gloved hand thrust out through the hole.

"I know you're in there. Why so hesitant?"

This is…Alfons' voice.

But why? It's taboo to break anonymity like this, and he's wrong if he thinks that you'd—

"You can remain silent if you wish, of course, given that you can hear me at all. Though I have this feeling that this might be no other than Miss Robin herself."

Your head gets dizzy. How does he...? No, you shouldn’t fall for it.

After a moment spent in silence, he chuckles.

"Of course you won't answer me. If you're wondering why I'm revealing myself, I'd simply tell you that not all of us are ashamed to admit they have needs, little Robin. Why, I'm sure the person supposed to be on your side of the wall must have far greater needs, no? That's why I decided to be generous tonight and offer nothing but pleasure to that lucky individual. Go ahead, I'm lending you a hand."

Clad in a shiny black glove, Alfons' hand makes a sultry come-hither motion at you, and you swear it looks lewder somehow than if he'd left you with something other than his hand instead. Your folds are still dripping, the heat in your lower belly prompting irritating tingles all over. It would be oh-so-easy to lift your skirts and descent right on his ready palm, your pussy already bare as you left your underwear all the way back in your room.

Hesitantly, you approach the wall and do just that, shivering a little at the unfamiliar texture. But unlike the solid slabs of flesh you've taken the previous nights, Alfons' fingers don’t behave. They don't wait to be ridden to completion while you get used to their shape in your insides. Right from the beginning, Alfons zaps and twists his fingers inside you, discrediting the generosity he so fondly talked about just a minute ago. It's exactly what you tried to achieve alone in your bed. But deeper. And so much more relentless. And exactly what you've been missing.

"That's a good girl. You're taking them in so greedily."

The naughty sounds of your juices muffle most of your whimpers as the flat of his palm repeatedly hits against your swollen lips. Even through the glove, he's scarily precise. He aims for your sweet spots and makes you see stars in no time, until you can no longer find meaning in the dirty things he says.

"Aww, are you squirting on me already? Here I was ready to bet you'd need far more than that. Have those gentlemen been neglecting you? Did you find them rather lacking?"

You hear the sound of water hitting the tiles but you pay little mind to it as Alfons keeps grinding his middle and ring fingers against your sweet spot, scratching something inside you that's been tormenting you for a week straight. You have no name for this feeling. You just know that he ruined you from the very beginning, by telling you about this place, by luring you in here.

The only thing you can think about as you succumb to a violent storm of an orgasm is how much better his cock would feel hitting that same place inside you. How long does he intend on keeping you here, if this is how you start out? The whole night? Would he want to make you do something perverse, fitting of his ways? You care little about that as pleasure spreads all over, making you feel so light.

You immediately get down on your hands and knees, a wicked idea on your mind already, as you're ready to deviously entice him by licking his digits clean. But they disappear before you get the chance to, making you almost whine at the loss. Your pussy still throbs, so well taken care of, yet so neglected at the same time.

"Now, wouldn't you like to finally see for yourself? If I'm one of them, I mean. The ones you've already seen here before."

Blinking your eyes, you feel the weight of his words coming down on you. You've completely forgotten about that at this point.

Even without being able to see him, just being able to pin a name to the person behind the wall makes you imagine everything so clearly. The facial expressions you've seen him do, how he reacts to certain things. The piercing stare of those dead fish eyes when he knows he's right.

"Too bad I'm not in the mood for that tonight. I guess that leaves you no choice but to come here again if you truly want to find out the answer to that question, no?"

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[marscardigan]

red wine supernova

neighbor!ellie williams x reader

neighbor!ellie universe

summary: celebrating your birthday for the first time without your family was hard, but ellie was there to make your special day better.

word count: 4.8k

YOU HEARD the clunk first.

Then came the gurgle. The kind of unsettling gurgle that said hey, I’m broken and probably leaking. You stared at your kitchen sink. The faucet was dripping slowly, then rapidly, and then suddenly it made a soft hissing pop and began a very non-cute stream from underneath the counter. You were already freaking out when you texted Ellie. 'help. the sink just made a sound like a dying animal D:'

Less than five minutes later, you heard a knock on your door, and there she was—smug little smirk, toolbox in hand. "Your handy girlfriend has arrived," Ellie announced, stepping inside dramatically. "I heard there’s a damsel in distress."

You squinted at her. "You’re holding your hammer upside down."

She paused. Glanced at it. "That’s... just how I carry it. For style."

"You sure you know what you’re doing?"

Ellie strutted past you like she owned the place, setting her toolbox on your counter and crouching to inspect under the sink. "I fixed Jesse’s garbage disposal once. Plus I watched, like, a lot of plumbing videos after the shower head incident at my place."

You narrowed your eyes. "The incident where you broke it off the wall and flooded your whole bathroom?"

Ellie’s head popped out from beneath the counter. "Okay, rude. That was sabotage. Gravity was involved."

You sat on the floor beside her, watching her try to identify which pipe did what with the confidence of someone who had no idea but didn’t want to admit it.

"Need a hand, baby?" you asked.

"No, no. I got it. I just.. I’m just surveying. For strategy, you know?"

Unbeknownst to you, Ellie pulled her phone from her back pocket while pretending to stretch and started texting someone. 

"No way," you peeked over her shoulder. "Are you texting Joel?"

Ellie froze. "No?"

You blinked. "Why are you lying?"

She groaned. "Okay, yes. But listen. I’m still doing the work. Joel is just... coaching. Spiritually."

You smirked. "Aren’t you supposed to be handy? You know, being a lesbian and all?"

Ellie sat up so fast she hit her head on the bottom of the sink, cursed, then pointed an accusing wrench at you. "Wow. I could say the same, ma’am."

You blinked, but a small smile appeared on your lips. "Touché."

She rubbed the back of her head, then sat beside you on the floor with an exaggerated sigh. "Okay. Real talk? I don’t actually know what the fuck I’m doing. I just wanted to impress you."

"You don’t need to impress me, El. You already do."

She gave you a sheepish little half-smile, bumping her shoulder against yours. "Even if I can’t fix your sink?"

"Especially because you tried to anyway."

You leaned your head on her shoulder, both of you sitting on the floor beside the broken sink, surrounded by scattered tools. Ellie let her head tilt onto yours, and for a moment the silence felt warm, easy. Comfortable.

Then the faucet hissed again. And it made you both jump.

"Okay," Ellie muttered. "Maybe we should call a real plumber before your kitchen becomes a swimming pool."

You didn’t expect Joel to show up with that much swagger. The moment you opened the door for him, he was already smirking like he had three dad-jokes lined up and a plumber's ego the size of Texas.

"Where’s the patient?" he asked, stepping into your apartment.

Ellie, who had been sulking on your couch with her arms crossed, shot you a betrayed look the second she heard his voice. "You called him?"

"You were texting him already," you pointed out, holding back a laugh. "I just… escalated."

Joel chuckled and patted Ellie’s shoulder on his way to the kitchen. "Don’t worry, kiddo. Some people are meant to fix sinks. Some are meant to break ‘em."

"It was already broken!"

You leaned on the counter and watched as Joel got to work. He made a few small grunting sounds, twisted a couple of things, mumbled to himself, and five minutes later, your sink no longer sounded like a dying animal.

You blinked. "Wait. That’s it?"

Joel stood up and dusted his hands off. "Yeah. It was just a loose coupling and a misaligned gasket. Easy fix."

Ellie was standing with her arms crossed now, jaw tight. "Cool. Thanks for making me look useless in front of my girlfriend."

Joel grinned, but didn’t bother to say anything. He just turned to grab his thermos. "So. You two are still comin’ over next weekend?"

You frowned a little, confused. "Wait… next weekend?"

"Yeah, before your birthday, right?" Joel said, totally casual.

You blinked. "How do you know it’s my birthday?"

He smirked as he took a sip of the coffee you made for him. "Ellie hasn’t shut up about it for two weeks."

You looked over just in time to see Ellie’s soul exit her body. "I—what—okay." She stood up straighter, backing toward the door like she was about to physically eject Joel from the apartment. "Thank you so much for the sink, Joel. Appreciate it. Really. You can leave now. Door’s right here. Bye!"

Joel laughed, deeply amused. "Just sayin’. That girl has been stressin’ about gettin’ you the right gift. Keeps mutterin’ 'what if it’s too much?' and 'what if she doesn’t like sur—'"

"BYE, JOEL!"

You were full-on cackling now, covering your mouth as Ellie turned cherry red and started shoving Joel gently toward the door. "Hey, hey!" Joel laughed, holding his hands up. "No need to assault me for being observant."

"Out." Ellie insisted, dragging him by the sleeve.

Joel turned to you, still laughing. "You’re comin’ next week, though, right?"

You nodded, smiling warmly. "Yeah. Wouldn’t dare to miss it."

"Good." He winked at Ellie, who was as red as her flannel.

Once the door shut, she turned around, arms stiff at her sides, eyes wide like she’d just been hit by a truck. You tried not to laugh. You really did. But her face was so red.

"Couldn’t shut up, huh?"

Ellie groaned and pressed her forehead into your shoulder. "I hate him."

You wrapped your arms around her and smiled against her temple. "I don’t. He’s kind of my favorite person right now."

She peeked up at you with a pout. "I thought I was your favorite."

You grinned. "Well, you were. Until Joel complimented my kitchen."

Ellie narrowed her eyes. But you leaned in and kissed her quickly, soft and sweet. "I love you, dork."

Her face softened instantly. "Yeah," she murmured. "Love you too."

Then she sniffed. "… How did he fix that in five minutes?! I was literally googling what a gasket even is."

You laughed again, pulling her close. "It’s okay, plumber girl. Your efforts were adorable."

She groaned into your shoulder. "I’m gonna hear about this forever."

"You are," you teased. "Forever. Just like Joel said."

She looked up again, defeated but grinning. "Okay. Now I hate you too."

THE TV flickered softly across the dim living room. Ellie lounged at the end of the couch, socked feet kicked up on the coffee table. Her hair was a mess, and her oversized t-shirt hung off one shoulder, exposing the faint lines of freckles dancing around her pale skin.

The movie she’d put on was halfway through, and Ellie was narrating more than watching.

"Okay, okay, look— this part? Where Luke flips off the skiff? He actually did that himself, no stunt double. Mark Hamill, certified badass." She leaned toward you, finger pointing at the screen like you might miss it. "Also? Carrie Fisher hated that metal bikini. Like, despised it. Rightfully so."

You smiled faintly, eyes on the screen, but not really seeing it.

Ellie didn't notice at first, she was too busy giving you random trivia in her soft, nerdy ramble that always made you melt a little. But somewhere between the speeder bike chase and the Ewok celebration, Ellie finally glanced over. And paused mid-sentence.

You were curled up at the opposite end of the couch, knees tucked under your chin, blanket tight around your shoulders. Your eyes were dull, unfocused. Your expression that polite, empty kind of neutral you wore when you didn’t want anyone to ask you what was wrong. It was a dead giveaway.

Ellie immediately hit pause. The screen froze on a blurry Ewok mid-jump, mouth open like it had caught the tension in the room too.

You blinked slowly. "Hey, I was watching that."

She didn’t answer. Just turned toward you, her brows gently furrowed. "Okay, spill."

"What?"

"Don’t 'what' me," she said, voice soft but certain. "You’re quiet. That weird, echo-y kind of quiet."

You hesitated, fingers twitching with the blanket fabric. "It’s nothing. I’m just tired."

Ellie tilted her head, unconvinced. "You’re a terrible liar."

There was a long pause. The kind that buzzed in your ears. And finally, you sighed. "It’s just... weird. Thinking about celebrating my birthday without my family, I guess."

Ellie didn’t say anything for a second, and you hated how suddenly vulnerable you felt. You hadn’t cried or anything, hadn’t even planned to bring it up. But there it was, sitting thick in your throat like a rock. 

"My parents usually drove," you added after a second, eyes fixed on the paused screen. "Even if it was just for dinner. They’d bring cake and balloons, even when I told them not to. It was… dumb. But it felt good."

Ellie scooted closer, shifting the blanket without asking and tugging half of it over her own lap. Her hand found yours under the fleece, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

"I’m sorry," she said, voice barely above a whisper. You blinked fast, trying not to let it show how much that small gesture hit you. "But hey," she added, her lips twitching into a little smile. "I’m not, like, blood-related… but I am contractually obligated to be your emotional support."

You laughed softly, pressing your face into her shoulder.

Ellie pulled you close, kissing the side of your head. "We don’t have to do anything big if you don’t want to."

"I don’t know. It’s just… gonna feel different."

"Yeah," she murmured, letting her chin rest against your hair. "Different doesn’t have to mean bad, though."

"I know."

The two of you sat like that for a while — quiet, bundled in shared warmth, the paused Ewok still mid-celebration on the screen.

Then Ellie whispered, "I, uh… may or may not have something up my sleeve for your birthday."

You lifted your head, smiling faintly. "El…"

"No, no — I’m not telling you anything. This face?" She pointed at her own. "Vault. Steel trap."

You gave her a knowing look. "You’re literally the worst at keeping secrets."

"Hey! I kept the Christmas sweater surprise and the concert tickets last month."

"You told me about the concert while you were trying to buy the tickets."

"Anyway," she said, leaning back dramatically. "This one? You’ll never see it coming."

You let yourself sink back into her side, fingers brushing hers again, more at peace than you’d felt all day.

THE CAR was warm from the sun, windows cracked just enough to let the breeze in, and Ellie’s hand was resting on your thigh in that casual, grounding way that always made your chest flutter.

"You sure we have everything?" she asked, as if the road trip didn’t last twenty minutes.

You held up the tote bag you packed. "I got snacks, water, charger, and gum. I am the ideal road trip companion."

Ellie smirked. "Passenger princess, you mean."

You gasped, pretending to be scandalized. "That’s so rude. I am a navigation expert and playlist curator."

"Yeah?" she glanced at you, amused. "Then how come you opened Google Maps like five minutes ago and already told me to turn down a one-way?"

"That was a test. And you passed."

She snorted. "Sure."

You leaned back into the seat, sunglasses perched on your nose, your legs curled up slightly in the seat like you always did. "Okay, okay, serious now. What playlist do you want?"

Ellie raised an eyebrow. "Do you remember the one we did together?" You grinned, nodding. "Play that one."

You queued it up, and within seconds, the car was filled with music. Ellie hummed along under her breath, her fingers tapping the beat against your leg. You watched her drive for a minute — the way her jaw flexed when she focused, the small scar on her temple, the fact that she had her sleeves pushed up and one tattooed forearm resting lazily on the wheel. 

"What?" she asked, catching you staring.

"Nothing," you smiled. "You’re so pretty."

Her face pinked immediately. "Don’t distract me. You want us to crash before we even arrive?"

"I mean… if we crash into a field and get to live off the grid together, I’m not complaining."

Joel’s house at just outside a little forest area, one of those modest country homes with a porch swing and too many bird feeders. It wasn’t far from your apartment complex, but it felt different anyway. When you pulled into the driveway, Joel was already waiting on the porch with two beers and what looked like a glass of lemonade in his hand. You hopped out of the car before Ellie had even turned off the engine, practically bouncing on your feet.

"She’s excited," Ellie muttered, grabbing the bag from the backseat.

"I heard that!"

Joel stood up as you approached, already holding out the lemonade. "Told you she’d be happy to get outta the city."

"I’m always happy when there’s cake," you grinned, accepting the glass. "Hi, Joel."

"Happy early birthday, kiddo." He gave you a side hug and then clapped Ellie on the back. "You two hungry?"

"Always," you and Ellie said in unison.

Inside, Joel had really gone for it: steak, potatoes, cornbread, and now the three of you were settled on his large couch. You were sitting between them, Ellie with her arm casually draped along the back of the couch behind you, her fingers occasionally brushing your hair. Joel had turned on the Western on the old TV. 

Halfway through, Joel paused the movie. "Alright. Gimme a second."

You sat up slightly. "Wait, is it… is it cake time?"

"Patience," he grumbled, disappearing into the hallway.

Ellie gave you a look. "Gift time."

"What?"

Before you could say something else, Joel returned with a small box, wrapped in old newspaper and tied up with a small bow. He held it out to you, slightly awkward. "Here. It’s not much, but… I made it myself."

You blinked and took the box gently, heart already swelling before you’d even untied the bow. Ellie nudged your knee with hers, giving you a soft smile. Inside the box was a hand-carved wooden jewelry tray. The edges were smoothed out and rounded, the inside etched delicately with little stars and crescent moons. The craftsmanship wasn’t perfect, but it was personal. It was special. 

Joel scratched the back of his neck. "Thought maybe it’d look nice on your nightstand. Ellie said you keep losin’ your earrings."

"I don’t lose them—" you started, shooting Ellie a look.

"—She definitely loses them," Ellie confirmed.

You blinked hard, trying not to spill any tear. And then looked up at Joel. "This is… this is beautiful. Seriously."

He looked relieved. "Glad you think so."

You leaned over and gave him a hug without even thinking about it, arms around his middle, head resting on his shoulder. Joel went a little stiff, then sighed and patted your back. "You’re welcome, kid."

He looked over at Ellie, who gave him a thumbs up, smiling so hard it hurt. 

YOU WERE asleep. Deeply asleep.

Tucked into Ellie’s sheets, her warmth curled around you like a blanket of its own — one arm slung lazily over your waist, her breath slow and even against the back of your neck. The world was quiet, the apartment dark and still, save for the faintest hum of the city outside the window and the soft noise of a fan nearby.

"Baaaabe…"

You groaned. A soft kiss landed on your shoulder. Then another. Then one against your cheek. Then your jaw. Your temple. Your eyelid, which made you twitch.

"Babyyyyyy," Ellie singsonged, barely above a whisper but somehow managing to drag the vowels into your dreams like a little menace.

Your eyes fluttered open vaguely. "Ellie…" Your voice was thick with sleep. "Is the building on fire?"

"No," she grinned.

"Did the cat learn to talk?"

"We don’t have a cat."

"Exactly," you mumbled, rolling over toward her, face still half-smashed into the pillow. "Then why…"

Ellie’s face was inches from yours, eyes wide and shining in the dark like an excited kid. "It’s midnight," she said simply.

You blinked at her. "... And?"

"It’s your birthday, dummy."

You blinked again. Then, despite the groggy haze in your brain, you felt something warm pull at your chest. Ellie was grinning like she couldn’t contain it— her fingers gently sweeping a lock of hair from your forehead, her knee nudging yours under the covers.

"You woke me up… to say happy birthday?"

"Of course I did," she whispered, leaning down to brush her nose against yours. "I get to be the first one to say it."

Your heart did a little flip. Even in the dark, you could see the softness on her face. She tucked her face into your neck and kissed you there, just below your ear.

"Happy birthday, baby," she whispered. "I love you so much."

Your breath caught. Even half-asleep, that still made your stomach flutter. You let out a laugh, barely a puff of air. "Oh my god. You’re so annoying."

"Yup." She pressed another kiss to your cheek. "But, hey, birthday rules. I get to be as clingy and chaotic as I want."

"You're always clingy."

"Exactly. So today I will be even worse." She poked your side gently, drawing out a muffled yelp. "How does it feel? Being the prettiest, coolest, most perfect birthday girl in the world?"

You buried your face in her chest, hiding your grin. "Feels like I’m gonna fall back asleep any second."

Ellie laughed and pulled you tighter against her. "That’s fine. I just wanted to be the first. Didn’t even need fireworks or cake. Just… this." Her voice was quieter now, more serious under the softness. "Just you here. With me."

You closed your eyes, heart heavy in the best way. "Thanks for waking me up," you whispered.

Ellie kissed your forehead. "Anytime, birthday girl."

You were already halfway asleep again when she pulled the blanket tighter over you both, her fingers stroking slow, lazy circles against your hip. But then you felt her smile against your skin. And you fell asleep smiling too.

WHEN the sun came up, you started to notice something was with Ellie. She started to... over-explain things. Like when she insisted you really didn’t need to come with her to the store that morning.

"I just gotta pick up a few things," she said, avoiding eye contact. "For… uh. Repairs."

"Repairs?"

"Yeah. You know, the boring stuff."

You stared at her. She fidgeted. "… Ellie."

"It will be so boring. Not worth your time, for sure." She added, pulling on her hoodie string so hard it almost slapped her cheek.

And when you tried to press further, she kissed your forehead and said, "You’re really cute, but no questions," then tripped over the welcome mat on her way out.

Despite the nerves and the obvious attempts at cover-up, there was something endearing in how hard she was trying. She wasn’t that bad at hiding it. Just… twitchy. And excitable. And grinning to herself when she thought you weren’t looking.

It was honestly kind of adorable.

By the time the afternoon arrived, she was barely keeping it together. She texted you five times from her place. The one that was down the hall. Terrible poker face, Williams.

When you opened the door that evening, Ellie was already outside waiting for you, pretending she hadn’t been nervously pacing the corridor for fifteen minutes. She offered her hand with a shy grin and said, "You look good. Like… criminally good."

You raised an eyebrow. "Criminal?"

"Yeah. Like, if hotness was illegal, I’d be a getaway driver."

You laughed despite yourself. She kissed your knuckles and walked with you down the hallway like she hadn’t spent all week having semi-anxious spirals in group chats with Dina and Jesse.

When she opened her apartment door, a rush of warm air, soft lighting, and music hit you first. Then came the voices.

"SURPRISE!!"

And there they were. Not just Ellie’s friends. Not just Dina and Jesse— who were already grinning ear to ear. But your people. A few from college. A couple from high school. A girl you used to sit with in freshman year creative writing. People you hadn’t seen in forever. Faces from every corner of your past life, standing under twinkling lights and hand-cut banners that spelled Happy Birthday! in mismatched lettering.

You turned to Ellie, stunned. She just smiled back, so damn proud of herself. 

The night unfolded in a blur of laughter, hugs and stories. You caught up with old friends, shared drinks with Jesse who was aggressively proud of Ellie’s 'romantic little brain,' and danced to terrible pop music that Ellie claimed to hate — but still danced with you to.

At one point, you noticed her standing near the back wall, just watching you with the most ridiculous, soft smile on her face.

"How you did this?" you asked, taking her hand. 

She shrugged, ears flushed pink. "You talk about people when you’re happy. I just… remembered the names. Asked around. Dina helped me with the Insta creeping."

Your heart swelled. And you leaned in to kissed her. 

As the party wound down, your friends, who were half-tipsy already, floated the idea of heading to a bar across town.

"You two are totally coming," one of your oldest friends said, tugging at your hand. "We haven’t seen you in years, you can’t just disappear now."

You turned to Ellie, who already had that mischief look plastered on her face.

"C’mon," she said, brushing your hair behind your ear. "I’ll buy the first round."

The bar was dim and neon-drenched, full of people and terrible music. Ellie stayed close to your side, one hand in the back pocket of your jeans, laughing at your stories, letting you steal sips from her drink. It was strange seeing your two worlds blur like this. Your past and your present. Your oldest friends watching the way Ellie looked at you, some of them smirking behind their glasses, others giving you subtle thumbs-up when Ellie leaned in to whisper something soft in your ear.

As the night stretched, the drinks became foggy. You weren’t much of a heavy drinker, not usually. But tonight was different. Your birthday, Ellie by your side, surrounded by old friends and new memories. The kind of warmth that went straight to your chest and, okay, maybe your head too.

Ellie had been keeping count. She wasn’t a buzzkill about it, just quietly attuned. Two cocktails, one shot someone handed you during a toast, and a half-glass of whatever suspicious pink stuff was handed to you by a giggling friend. That was your limit. But Ellie knew better than to tell you that. She just hovered nearby, patient as ever.

You stumbled into her at the edge of the dance floor, head heavy on her shoulder, arms winding around her waist. "You’re so pretty," you slurred, eyes sparkling. "Did you know? God, Ellie. You’re so stupidly hot. Like, offensively attractive."

Ellie laughed, catching you by the waist. "Okay, babe. That’s number four talking."

"Nuh-uh," you protested, poking her chest. "That’s just me. I love you."

You clung to her like a very drunk koala, and she steadied you with both hands on your hips, heart swelling even as she rolled her eyes affectionately. "You do love me, huh?" she said, brushing some of your hair out of your face.

You nodded emphatically. "Like. So much. It’s actually disgusting."

She grinned, soft and crooked, the way she always did when she was trying to mask how much your affection hit her. "Alright, babe," she said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "Let’s get you some water."

You went willingly, still nuzzling into her side, giggling every time she called you a nickname. The bartender handed over a tall glass of ice water with a straw, and Ellie pressed it to your lips. "Sip. You’re gonna thank me later."

You sipped. And she grinned, whispering a soft ‘atta girl’ in your ear. 

"You’re so bossy," you mumbled, cheeks flushed.

"Yeah, and you like it."

"Love it, sure." you whispered, leaning up to kiss her cheek.

Ellie stilled for a second, watching you with that soft, unreadable expression she always got when she was feeling more than she could say. Then she smiled, tucked your hair behind your ear, and gave your forehead a gentle kiss.

"Alright, lover girl," she murmured. "We’re going home," Ellie said firmly, glancing at your friends with a nod.

You whined quietly. "I don’t wanna go yet."

"Yeah, I know. But your eyes say you’re five minutes away from sleeping standing up."

"I don’t want to go to my apartment, El. I wish we could live together. It’s not fair," you mumbled, barely audible. "Can’t wait for you to be my forever home.”

Ellie froze. Looked down at you. And something in her expression softened so completely it nearly melted. "Jesus Christ," she whispered, more to herself than anyone. "You’re gonna ruin me."

You smiled sleepily into her collarbone, not fully aware of the words you just spilled, and how much they affected Ellie for the rest of the night.

After saying goodbye to your friend, Ellie called a cab, half-carrying you inside it, holding your hand the entire ride home while you talked in dreamy, quiet nonsense about clouds and cake and her freckles. When you reached the apartment building, Ellie kept an arm tight around your waist as she guided you down the hallway. You were still humming something that sounded vaguely like a love song, leaning all your weight on her and whispering, "I’d die for you, you know that?"

"Let’s not be dramatic," Ellie muttered, but her heart was a puddle.

Back at her place, she helped you out of your boots and your jacket, guiding you gently toward the bed. You flopped onto the mattress like a fainting Victorian lady.

"God," you mumbled. "You’re the best. You’re actually the best thing in the universe. I’d fight a bear for you."

"Good to know," Ellie said, pulling a blanket over you. "Just, maybe fight your hangover first, okay?"

You reached for her hand, and she took it instantly, sitting down beside you, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

"Stay here," you whispered.

"I’m not going anywhere."

You were asleep two minutes later. Ellie stayed up longer, watching you, brushing hair away from your face, and thinking about forever homes and just how fucking lucky she was.

YOU WOKE up to the soft buzz of your phone vibrating under your pillow, and the too-bright morning light pouring through Ellie’s bedroom window. Your head was pounding, your mouth tasted vaguely like tequila and regret, and you were about 85% sure you told Ellie you wanted to marry her in the middle of a bar last night.

Ellie was sitting at the edge of the bed when you finally groaned and shifted under the blankets. Her hair was a mess, and she still looked beautiful. 

"Morning, lover girl," she said softly, holding out a big glass of water.  "Survived?"

You took the glass, sip, and glare at her weakly. "Barely. You didn’t even drink."

"Someone had to be the responsible adult," she smirked, then leans over to press a kiss to your temple. "Also, watching you proclaim your undying love to me in front of your friends was kind of the highlight of my week."

You covered your face with a groan. "Fuck."

"No, no—don’t be embarrassed." Ellie was laughing now. Finally, she leaned in and rested her forehead against yours. "Next time," she murmured, "you propose, can you do it when I’m not holding your hair back in a bathroom?"

You snorted. "Noted."

Ellie pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose. "You want pancakes?"

"God, yes. Can we get greasy diner pancakes?"

"Absolutely."

You smiled, rubbing your hands over your face. "You’re the best."

"I know," she said, standing up with a stretch. As she left the room to get dressed, you flopped back into the sheets, smiling into the pillow. Your head still hurt. Your throat still burned. But your chest? Your chest felt light.

It had been a very different birthday, but your favorite by far.

perm taglist !

@valeisaslut @firefly-ace @sevslover @twopeoplee @mayfldss @elliesfavtoy @usuck @avalovesmus1c @samcvrpenters @mars4hellokitty @prettyinpink69 @yashirawr @furtherrawayy @maximumdreamlandcoffee @elliesfavgirlfriend @abcline006 @marieeeluvsyou @smaugayra @eriiwaiii2 @d1psht @creativedespaitr @leaaavesss @yasmilks @piastorys @nemesyaaa @elliewilliamskisser2000 @mascspleasegetmepregnant @oatmatchalatte @leeidk87 @morticeras @eddiesdrummergf @vahnilla

neighbor!ellie taglist !

@alinerr @liztreez @wwefan2002 @ellielvrssss @ellieslittleslutt @elliesfavwife @uselessnewt @lvmxih

[leiswxrld]

𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐮𝐬 𝐄𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬

pairings: piercer!ellie williams x fem reader

synopsis: your obsessed with ellie williams and have developed a little thing for her but never talked to her well not until you visited the tattoo shop.

warnings: mdni 18+, smut, cunnilingus (r receiving), strap on usage (calls it her dick), praise + degradation (slut, angel, beautiful, pretty), ellie williams is the mf warning, nipple piercings, public sex kinda.

a/n: I’m actually so fucking obsessed with ellie not even a joke, this was also a request from a friend so thanks bae.

credits: @mmadeinheavenn @hitobaby ❥

When it came to Ellie williams, your friends were always the first and last people to hear about how much you were obsessed with her. to the piercings and tattoos they heard it all, you went to the same university and attended most of the same classes but never spoke a word to eachother other.

You were sat in the canteen, laughing and making jokes with your friends whilst your attention turned to Ellie who had headphones in, carrying a backpack as she buys her lunch, sitting herself away from everyone.

Trying to ignore her presence, you try listening into your friend's conversation on her current sneaky link dustin, a boy on the football team who was the goalie star of the team but a total dick, she would always complain how he would be fucking other girls whilst he was with her but she'd managed to go back to him saying, 'it was just for the sex'.

Your head begins to spin, turning your attention back to Ellie who's busy phone in hand and a sub in the other, her piercing green eyes look up towards you, licking the crumbs off her lips not being able to read her unreadable expression before she goes back to what she was doing.

In your deluded mind, you coped up the idea that she might have a slight thing for you trying to convince yourself she'd might actually hook up with you.

It's Monday morning, sat in your lecture a few seats from the front as the teacher is rambling on about a midterm test that's coming up very soon and that everyone should be studying but truth be told you had been too lazy to do anything, staying in your bed whilst watching YouTube. you noticed Ellie hadn't arrived, consciously looking at the door waiting for the freckled beauty to walk through the door.

you tapped your pen against the desk, head in your hand thinking about what you were going to have for dinner later until your completely brung out of your daydream by the sound of the double doors opening, speaking of the devil.

Ellie walks in, hair in a ponytail. dressed in a metal rock shirt with ripped black jeans and black timberlands with her headphones in. she seems unfazed at the amount of distasteful looks she gets as she walks up the stairs in your direction, briefly looking at you and continuing towards the top. the professor continues to teach ignoring her as she writes on the whiteboard whilst talking.

You pretend to drop your pen on the floor, looking behind you to see her sat on the seats towards the right. she's typing on her phone, completely distracted, looking up to see you before smirking to herself.

you freak out internally, feeling your heart flutter a bit as you gripped your pen tightly, humming quietly to yourself thoughts filled with her.

a few days later, your at the tattoo place waiting to get your nipples done. it was a rather last minute decision since you've wanted them for a while but scared because of the horror stories you've heard from other girls which completely put you off at first but then you decided maybe it wouldn't be the same for you.

You begged your friend to come with too scared to go by yourself as you signed the paperwork to get it done. "Girl I'm sure you'll be fine your literally shaking"

you scoff, giving her a dirty look, "If it was you...you wouldn't of gotten them in the fucking first place at least I'm actually getting them done"

she rolls her eyes applying her lip gloss, "I just got my eyebrow pierced I think that’s adventurous enough" you continue to bicker, before a girl approaches you not paying attention before she cleared her throat.

"Y/N right" you look up to see Ellie, the girl you've been crushing over for the past month stood right in front of you and she was about to pierce your fucking tits.

never in your right mind would you think she worked at a fucking tattoo shop but here she was in a tank top, showcasing the variety of tattoos across her arms and neck. you don't remember her being this fucking built but then again you never saw her in uni without wearing punk shirts with a white long sleeved top underneath. your voice gets caught in your throat, your friend looking at you with a smirk as you push her off you, "yeah thats me"

Ellie pauses, looking at her clipboard before looking back at you. "come with me" she says, turning around as you get up from your seat. You follow her, briefly turning around to see your friend who's making sexual jokes as you flip her off.

your nervous, your heart racing as she leads you to one of the many rooms, allowing you to go in first closing the door behind you. "Have a seat on the bed behind you whilst I get everything prepared" she mutters, pointing at the bed as you sat yourself on top of it. you don't think you've ever heard her talk her voice sweet but rugged at the same time as she goes to wash her hands at the sink.

"you've ever pierced uh- nipples before" you quickly speak out, cursing at yourself for your stutter. she takes a second to look at you, not missing the way her eyes stop at your tits before licking her lips. "uh- yeah this isn't my first rodeo so don't worry your in good hands"

she drys her hands, putting on her gloves and sterilising the equipment on the tray before wheeling it towards you next to the bed. "can you lay down for me and lift up your shirt and remove your bra if you don't want me to look I won't" she says, going to turn around before you stop her.

"No its fine you'll see them anyway since your piercing them" Ellie smiles at you, slowly watching as you carefully lift your top up revealing the cute red lacy bra. The tension felt all too intimate for you feeling so vulnerable under her intimidating eyes, you don't know if she's recognised you or pretending not to still remaining professional as you struggle to unbuckle the hook.

in embarrassment, you face ellie who's busy getting her tools lined up. "hey can you help me unbuckle my bra having trouble taking it off" you squeak out and she smiles signalling you to turn around, feeling her cold hands hit the warmth of your back causing you to shiver slightly as you felt the bra strap unbuckle. "thanks"

you slip your bra off, placing it on the bed next to you. Ellie hands you a towel to help you cover up, laying back onto the bed the anticipation killing you as your nerves began to pick up again. "I'm going touch your breasts now tell me if you get too uncomfortable" you nod in response and ellie gently moves the towel down revealing your tits, sitting perfectly the cold air breezing past causing them to harden.

you hear her mutter 'fuck' under her breath, but you don't know if it was your imagination or not. shes gentle, lightly pressing her hand against your left tit, the cannula in her right. "take a deep breath for me" you do, lightly taking in air before feeling the needle going through your nipple.

opening your eyes, you see she's already putting in the jewellery. "I was expecting that to be way more painful" you admit causing her to laugh, screwing in the ball. "a lot of my customers have said that it's just your nerves making you think it will be fucking painful than it actually is"

"don't blame them I was shitting bricks when I got here" you reply, admiring the many piercings she had in her ear. you don't think you ever noticed she had that many, "that was me when I first got them, I did them myself which looking back was fucking stupid but I was 17 and wanted to be different"

"that’s so real" you could relate you managed to pierce your septum and helix in one night which resulted in blood, infections and a long healing period but in the end they turned out good. "ok I'm going to pierce the other one take another deep breath for me angel"

the name went straight down to your core, feeling the wetness seep onto your matching red lace underwear as you avoid her eyes. you take another deep breath before feeling the needle go through which felt a little painful than the last as she puts in the jewellery screwing the ball in.

"anddd.... I'm done take a look" you receive the mirror, angling them towards your tits, satisfied with the cute piercings. "omg they look so pretty" you gleam, taking a second to look at a shy Ellie, "thank you so much"

"your welcome, they suit you just as pretty as you" your gleeful, expression falls turning to look up at ellie who seems panicked at your shocked expression. "s-shit I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable I-"

"you think I'm pretty" you ask, needing the confirmation from her lips once again. "ever since I saw you in the library at uni I thought you were the most beautiful girl in there"

that was the signal you needed, "can I kiss you" ellie says, restraining herself from grabbing you and doing it herself. you nod and Ellie takes your lips on hers, heads moving against each other, roughly pulling at her neck as you both moan.

"so fucking beautiful" she mutters, against your lips grabbing your thighs and pulling you towards her. she makes her way down, leaving bruises all around your neck and kissing your pierced tits carefully making you wince before continuing all the way to your stomach.

"You moan so fucking pretty- shit I have to have you will you let me fuck this pussy baby" she asks- almost begging you to let you use her to get yourself off. "y-yes please fuck me ells" the yes a whimper, just wanting ellie to use her fingers on you.

Ellie wastes no time, taking off your joggers and throwing them across the floor. she moans at the wet spot that's appeared on the matching red lace underwear, helping you slip them off. "fuck" she mutters, your pussy glistening in your juices as Ellie slowly attaches her lips onto your clit, receiving a gasp from you.

She eats you like its her last fucking meal, licking and sucking like a mad woman, moaning at the way you taste and how angelic your moans were. "taste so fucking good"

"just like that els-fuck" she groans at your words, using her mouth to suction on your clit lapping up all your juices that seeped through the white protective cloth on the bed.

Your moaning, hands slipping into ellies hair and toes clenched too fucking blissed to say anything. "I-i want to fuck you" she says, stopping for a second bringing you out of your blissed out state, "what do you mean" your confused, wasn't she already doing it ?.

"you'll see turn around and arch your back against the bed" you obey, quickly rushing up and laying yourself against the bed, avoiding hitting your newly pierced tits.

You hear her unbuckle the belt to her jeans, pushing them down to her legs. briefly turning around, she pulls down her boxes revealing a black glittery strap on. "we only have 10 minutes before my next client so we have to make this quick, angel"

"look at you so ready for my dick, how much does she want it" she referring to your pussy, feeling her tap the tip against your opening. "sooo… bad please fuck me" you beg and you hear her chuckle at your desperate pleas, positioning herself before slowly pushing into you.

"ohhhh-fuck" you moan, exaggerating the oh as she puts her hands on your hips, "so fucking tight for me its been a long time since you've been fucked hasn't it" she asks, smacking your ass.

"s-so long" you admit, the longest time you had been without sex being 5 months. she pulls you back on her strap before thrusting into you at a slow pace, pulling back only to thrust back harder into you.

Your pushing back onto her, meeting her thrusts as your moans get louder. "shhhh angel your being too loud you don't want wanna get caught getting fucked by me right" her tone is almost mocking, feeling her hand push your head against the bed muffling your moans into the hard surface.

You nod, babbling curses and muffled moans as she increases her pace, ass smacking against her strap as your hand grips onto the discarded towel next to you. "fuck back onto me baby come on" she's spanking you, whilst letting you push back onto her as you turn back to face her who seems to be enjoying it as much as you were.

"you look so fucking beautiful from here angel, so desperate for me" she's pounding into you, trying your hardest to stay quiet, your piercing hits the table causing you to wince in pain, "fuck els- I'm gonna cum gonna make such a mess all over you" you moan out, eyes rolling back as you brain goes fuzzy

the loud smacks are echoed across the room, ellie going to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling on it harshly watching as your ass bounces back, almost creaming at the sight of it. "are you going to cum for me slut" you almost silent, ellie knocking the breath out of you as she fucks the shit out of you.

"nghhh- fuck I'm cumming" you squirt all over her strap, earning a satisfied moan from ellie, who thrusts into you a few more times before slowing down. you laid slump on the bed, feeling Ellie pull out of you as you felt her tongue return to your pussy, licking up the juices with a few grunts as you whimper in sensitivity.

"Didn't take you for a squirter" she finally says, helping you to your feet. "that was my first time doing it" you admit and her eyes widen, "really..well shit I guess you just weren't getting fucked right"

Ellie helps you get dressed, cleaning you up and replacing the now soaked sheet with a new one.

"I have to get ready for my next client but I guess I'll see you around, angel" she gives you one more kiss before letting you out, you felt the obvious limp in your step ignoring the dirty looks you got from everyone in the waiting area, returning quickly to your friend who had an obvious smirk on her face.

"so how was it" you grab your purse from her, taking out your card. "it didn't hurt to be-

"Not that how was it was she more of a pink or black strap type of girl" you slap her in the arm, an obvious glare on your face. "I don't know what you’re talking about"

"you do realise everyone heard you getting fucked like the obvious limp in your step and the hickeys all over your neck is a factor" your face drains in colour, no wonder why everyone was giving you dirty looks.

" I have no idea what your talking about let me pay so we can get out of here" you pay, embarrassment on your face as the receptionist gave you the ‘I know what you just did’ look.

Ellie walks out clipboard in hand, calling out a customers name eyes meeting yours before smirking, your face heats up before you drag your friend out of the shop, missing ellies obvious stares at your ass as you do.

“hi I’m ellie right this way”

[greenbuns]

picasso | e.w

written by greenbuns

° . Pairings : Ellie Williams × Fem!Reader (you)

° . Contains : sfw, gf!ellie, fluff, soft romance, kissing, bickering & flirting, reader n ellie being lovey-dovey, dating, reader's doing ellie's makeup!

It had been a year since you and Ellie started dating.

A full year of lazy mornings, shared playlists, shoulder nudges, and inside jokes. Of fighting over the last piece of pizza and then giving it up with a sigh because she looked at you with those puppy eyes. A year of Ellie calling you "babe" with that half-smirk and holding your hand under the table like it was your shared secret.

Ellie wasn't big on changes. She thrived in routine—the comfort of the familiar, the predictability of things she could hold in her hands and understand without overthinking. She stuck to her flannel shirts, old Converse with frayed laces, and that beat-up black hoodie she refused to throw away, the one with a tiny hole in the sleeve and faded patches that told stories only she could remember. She wasn't trying to make a statement; it was just her. Simple, worn-in, and quietly reliable. Her idea of self-care was a cup of strong coffee and playing her guitar on the porch, legs kicked up on the railing, humming under her breath like no one was listening—even though you always were.

Makeup? That was a foreign language to her. Not because she was against it, but because it felt unnecessary—like painting over something she never saw as broken. She liked to joke she was born allergic to glitter, which made you roll your eyes and flick sparkle highlighter at her just to hear her grumble and fake a sneeze. She wasn't one for vanity, never obsessed over how she looked, but you always caught her fixing your hair absentmindedly, tucking it behind your ear, or complimenting the way your lips looked when you smiled, like she didn't even realize she was doing it.

You were the softer one between the two. Where Ellie was all dry humor and eye rolls, you were open warmth and affectionate teasing. You cared about the little things—matching socks, lighting a candle in the room even if the sun was still up, organizing your books by color even if she thought that was totally impractical. You liked painting your nails, baking when you were stressed, and keeping lip gloss in your pocket like it was essential survival gear. Ellie teased you for it, constantly, but in that way that made you feel adored, not mocked. And despite all her gruffness, she always kissed you on the forehead when you were reading, and let you play your music over hers, even if she'd never admit she liked your indie playlists better.

You were opposites in some ways—soft and hard, organized chaos and chaotic chill—but in the most important ways, you met in the middle. Somewhere between her silence and your chatter, her steady and your storm, you fit together like you were always meant to.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the cracked blinds of Ellie's room, painting golden stripes across the floor and the rumpled sheets of her bed. It was the kind of soft light that made everything feel dreamlike, hazy around the edges, like time had decided to slow down just for the two of you. The room smelled faintly of cedarwood and old books, with a hint of the vanilla candle you'd lit the night before, its wax still pooled and half-melted on the windowsill.

Across the room, her guitar leaned against the corner, one of the strings slightly out of tune from the last time she'd played it for you late at night, her voice low and quiet like a secret. A handful of Polaroids were clipped to a string above her desk—candid shots of the two of you caught mid-laugh, one of Ellie flipping off the camera, another blurry one of your joined hands, and one you took during golden hour where her freckles glowed like constellations.

Right beside them, taped gently to the wall, were two dried flowers from your last date: a pressed daisy and a little wild violet Ellie had picked from a trail just because she knew you liked them. You'd slipped them into your book, and later, she'd taped them there without saying anything.

The desk was cluttered but lived-in—sketchbooks half-filled, loose pens, a chipped mug with three guitar picks inside, and one of your scrunchies looped lazily around the lamp. There was a hoodie of yours draped over her chair, and one of your rings sitting safely in a small dish by the nightstand, next to a photo of the two of you smiling so wide it made your cheeks hurt to remember it.

The apartment—the room—wasn't just Ellie's anymore. It was yours, too; stitched together with shared memories, soft laughter, and the kind of quiet intimacy that comes after a year of learning each other's rhythms, each other's silences, and falling in love somewhere in between.

Ellie was slouched back against the headboard, her legs stretched out comfortably in front of her, a comic book resting open on her lap. The pages rustled as she absentmindedly flipped through them, but her eyes kept drifting—toward you, toward the lazy shapes of sunlight dancing on the walls. Her messy auburn hair caught the golden glow, a few strands sticking up stubbornly where she'd run her hands through it, like she'd just rolled out of bed and couldn't be bothered to fix it.

She blinked at you in alarm when you were sitting cross-legged on the bed across from her, a small makeup bag in your lap and a mischievous sparkle in your eye.

"Okay," you said, unzipping the bag like you were about to defuse a bomb, "Let's do your makeup."

Ellie blinked, "Let's not."

You raised an eyebrow, "Ellie, come on. Just let me do it this once," you pleaded, leaning forward slightly. "Please?"

"No," She folded her arms, pulling her knees up onto the bed and hides her face behing her comic book like you were about to attack her with a mascara wand, "That stuff's not my thing."

You jutted out your bottom lip, leaning closer, your voice dipping into that tone you knew she had a hard time resisting. "But you'd look so cute. And it's not even full glam. Just a little natural look. Let me make you glow."

Ellie groaned, letting her head fall back against the wall as she peeked one eye behind the book cover to look at you and sighed dramatically, "Why do I let you talk me into these things?"

You grinned triumphantly. "Because you love me."

"That's highly debatable."

"Ellie."

She narrowed her eyes, "You think I'd look cute in makeup?"

You scoffed, "You already look cute. I just want to enhance your cuteness."

"You're ridiculous," Ellie muttered, but her lips tugged upward.

You leaned forward, brushing your nose against hers for a second. "Come on, Els. Just a little? I won't go overboard. No glitter. Promise."

She hesitated. Looked at your pleading eyes. Sighed dramatically. "Fine. But if I end up looking like a clown, I'm blaming you."

"I accept full responsibility," you grinned, victorious.

"And don't post it on your social."

"I won't! I promise. This is just for me. And maybe for you to realize how hot you are."

Ellie grumbled under her breath but finally sat up straighter, shifting her comic aside. "Let's get this over with." She leaned back on her elbows, her green eyes watching you as you opened the makeup bag with glee, arranging the small collection of products you brought out like a painter preparing for a masterpiece.

You giggled, scooting closer on your knees, opening the little makeup bag like it was a treasure chest, "Okay. Sit still," you instructed, already dabbing your sponge into some tinted moisturizer.

"I hate this already," she mumbled.

"You're going to love it."

"You're ridiculous."

"You're ridiculously gorgeous. Now shush."

You leaned in and gently dabbed her face, your fingers brushing her cheeks now and then. Ellie was watching you, but you tried to focus. Tried. Except she kept making faces every time you tapped her nose or brushed her eyebrows.

"Stop scrunching," you scolded.

"I'm not used to being poked and prodded."

"You're not being poked," you said, holding back a laugh. "You're being beautified."

"I'm already beautiful, babe."

You paused. "You are."

Ellie's heart secretly did a tiny somersault.

She huffed but let you continue, her eyes half-lidded as she watched you work. Her gaze lingered on your face—the way your bottom lip was tucked between your teeth in concentration, the way your brows furrowed slightly as you blended.

"Alright," you said, reaching for the eyeliner. "This is the trickiest part. I need you to really sit still for this."

"Maybe you should sit on me or something. Might help you steady your hand."

You blinked at her, cheeks blooming with heat. "W-What?"

She smirked, grabbing your waist and tugging you forward until you were perched delicately on her lap. Your heart was hammering in your chest, but you tried to play it cool as you leaned in, your fingers gently tilting her chin upward. "Okay. Don't move."

"I won't. Not unless it's to kiss you."

"Ellie."

She chuckled, the vibration of her laugh against your thighs sending a thrill up your spine. You focused hard, drawing the liner with as much precision as you could, though your hands trembled a little from her closeness.

"It's easier for you this way, right?" she said innocently, already placing her hands on your waist. Her thumbs brushed back and forth over the fabric of your shirt in slow, rhythmic circles.

You swallowed hard. "I—uh—yeah... yeah, I guess it is easier."

"Then keep going," she said, trying to look unaffected, though the smug smile tugging at her lips gave her away.

You were now very aware of the closeness—the warmth of her touch, the steady rise and fall of her chest under your hands, her gaze fixed on your face as you brought the eyeliner closer.

Your hand was shaking.

"Hold still," you whispered, trying to keep your cool.

"You're the one shaking," Ellie teased, voice lower now, her grip on your waist tightening just enough to make your stomach flutter.

"Stop talking," you whispered again, this time almost pleading. "You're distracting me."

She smirked. "I know."

You somehow managed to apply the eyeliner—a thin, barely-there line that enhanced her already sharp eyes. When you were done, you pulled back slightly, your hands still resting on her shoulders.

"Okay," you breathed. "All done."

Ellie blinked, then squinted at her reflection. Her lips parted. Ellie tilted her head. "That's it?"

"Yeah. Wanna see?"

You slid off her lap—with more reluctance than you cared to admit—and handed her the small mirror from your makeup bag. Ellie took it, held it up, and blinked.

She turned her head slightly left, then right. Ran her fingers through her hair. Squinted.

"Babe," she said finally, "Damn."

You bit your lip, "Good damn?"

She looked up at you, her green eyes catching the light in a way that made them seem like entire forests bathed in sunlight—calm, wild, and impossibly beautiful—and in that moment, it felt like she wasn't just looking at you, but into you, like she saw every hidden thought, every soft corner of your heart, and was quietly choosing to love all of it.

"You made me hot."

You burst out laughing.

"I'm serious," she said, her grin growing. "I look like... like me, but fucking cooler. Hotter."

"I told you you'd love it."

"I still hate makeup," she said, setting the mirror aside. "But I don't hate this."

You crawled back onto the bed beside her. "So, worth it?"

Ellie turned toward you, her fingers already finding your wrist and tugging you forward until your face was just inches from hers. "Definitely worth it."

The kiss started soft—just a brush of lips, sweet and tentative. But then Ellie deepened it, one hand sliding behind your neck, the other wrapping around your waist again. She kissed you like she had nowhere else to be, like the world could crumble outside and she wouldn't notice as long as you stayed there, in her arms.

You melted into her, letting her pull you down with her as she leaned back on the bed. Your fingers traced the edge of her jaw, your heart thudding wildly.

She broke the kiss, barely, her nose brushing against yours. "You're blushing, babe."

"I wonder why," you mumbled, face burning.

Ellie chuckled, soft and low. "Is it because I look so good in makeup now?"

"No, it's because you're smug," you whispered.

"You love me."

"Unfortunately," you teased, earning a playful nip at your bottom lip.

She flipped you gently, slow and careful, like you were something fragile she treasured too much to break. You landed beneath her with a soft gasp, your fingers instinctively curling into the fabric of her shirt as her body hovered just above yours. Her weight settled slightly to one side, supported by her elbow, but close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from her skin, her breath mingling with yours in the narrow space between. Her other hand moved with a kind of reverence, brushing a stray hair from your face, her fingertips lingering a moment longer than necessary—as if memorizing the shape of you, like she didn't want to miss a single detail. 

Her gaze searched yours, not rushed or hungry, but deep and full of something wordless and achingly tender, like she was trying to say everything she felt with just her eyes, and maybe she was. It felt like time stopped, just for the two of you, wrapped in that hush where love speaks loudest without a sound.

"You're lucky I love you more," she murmured, kissing your cheek. "Even if you did just put goo on my face."

"It's not goo," you whispered back, wrapping your arms around her. "It's art."

"Well, Picasso," she said, nuzzling into your neck, "Wanna take a break from art and make out instead?"

You giggled, pulling her closer. "Thought you'd never ask."

And as the afternoon sun streamed in through the window, casting warm, golden shapes across your tangled sheets and the curve of your intertwined bodies, time seemed to slow, then slip quietly away altogether. The makeup—once the focus of your playful plan—was forgotten, left behind like the last scene of a love story that had already written a sweeter sequel in the shape of her hands tracing soft circles against your back.

The world outside faded to a distant hum, the noise of everything else paling in comparison to the quiet rhythm of her breathing, the way her lips brushed against your skin as if she were memorizing you. And in that perfect stillness, the only thing that felt real—more real than gravity, more real than time—was Ellie, this girl who held you like you were something delicate and priceless, who kissed you like she was afraid of waking up from a dream, and who, with just one look, could make your heart stutter and your cheeks burn in the most beautiful way. [•]

tysm for reading pookie! have a great day~ and I hope ellie visits you at night

[hsangel64]

the weight of sacrifice

pairings: ellie williams x fem miller!reader and dad!joel miller x daughter!reader

synopsis: it all happened so fast you had to do something even if it meant putting your life at risk

warnings: TW: BIG BIG BIG use of gore like i went into detail about some things, angst lots of angst, cussing, use of y/n

a/n: for some context ellie and reader are already together, joel and reader were at the hospital together, joel is readers dad!! i have been doing a bit of fluff so i wanted to do an angst one! i have had this on my mind for awhile now so i hope you guys like this! requests are open!

you didn’t know how you ended up in this situation, you weren’t thinking straight but all you could think about was to save your dad. everyone in the room was unknown to you. you knew this was a bad idea you knew something wasn’t right, you tried to reason with your dad and he didn’t listen. your dad, you and tommy were just on patrol, the horde being too strong and saving the girl who was about to kill him. it wasn’t hard to put two and two together to realize these people had to have been apart of the firefly’s and were coming after your dad for killing everyone in that hospital. for not saving the world, for taking that away from everyone. whatever the reason was you had to stop her.

“wait he didn’t do anything!!!” the woman turned to look at you waiting for you to continue.

“he didn’t do anything, i promise it was all me. take me not him!” you yelled out and everyone’s faces were turned to you.

“y/n no!” he yelled wondering what the hell you were doing. you could tell the girl was taking in everything you said.

“pick her up.” pulling you up they pulled your dad away and hit you across the face, falling to the floor in front of her. you felt the room start to spin knowing you were going to die here.

the day you and joel took ellie from the firefly’s

driving back to jackson after what went down felt wrong. you didnt want ellie to die so you killed everyone in sight, you didnt want it to end this way but ellie meant more to you guys than anyone.

“are you okay?”your dad broke the silence between you two.

“oh uh yeah im fine.” there was a slight pause before he spoke again.

“we need to lie to her.” your head snapped towards him baffled at him wanting to lie to her.

“what…why can’t we tell her the truth.”

“because we can’t okay?” raising his voice as he talked so you stopped talking and silently agreed. all you could hear was the hum of the car moving not wanting to say anything more. you knew why he told you to lie, it made you feel dirty knowing what you both did. they had a chance to a cure and you took that away from the world. you knew ellie would’ve never talked to you again if she knew, so you stayed quiet. you never told her and when she asked you said you didn’t remember anything. that they knocked you out and you woke up in the car on the way to jackson.

the day ellie and joel came back from salt lake city after their talk.

the day they came back was the worst day you’ve ever had, you were and ellie basically lived together so you were in her home when she came back. waiting the full week felt like forever, you didn’t know where she went and you had so many questions. hearing the door open you whipped around to see ellie dropping her backpack by the door, running over you touched her face to see what was wrong.

“baby i was so worried where were you?”

“did you know joel lied?”

“lied about what els?” she pushed you away and walked past you taking her jacket off.

“lied about the cure, the hospital everything that day.” oh shit.

“what? n-no no of course not.”

“don’t lie to me again please, did you lie or not.” you knew she had found out, you knew there was no way around this.

“ellie…”

“i can’t fucking believe you!” ellie raised her voice and threw her jacket to the ground making you jump.

“look ellie i had no choice-“

“no choice? you’re my fucking girlfriend.” she finally made eye contact with you and you saw tears forming in her eyes. you walked over to her and before you could even touch her she pushed you away nearly making you fall to the ground.

“els please let me explain-“ your voice cracked feeling the giant lump in your throat. she was pacing now.

“explain what that you lied our whole relationship? that we could’ve saved the world and you took that from me?!”

“els-“

“no shut the fuck up, i don’t want to hear it. there’s nothing to explain. i should’ve died in that hospital y/n! my life would’ve fucking mattered and you both took that from me.” the tears were in full affect now, feeling your chest tighten as you let out a sob.

“you matter to me ellie, you matter to joel, to everyone.” you put your hands on her face again wiping the fallen tears.

“the whole world would’ve been saved you guys fucked that up and now we’re stuck here in this world.” she stopped for a second looking away. “the other day i went and helped the kids with a drill, you know what that drill was meant for?” she walked closer to you. “the drill is for when we have raiders or a horde of infected. i could’ve saved those kids from this world that were living in. that was my fucking purpose.” you flinched away slightly hearing her raise her voice slightly.

“els, you are my purpose. who knows if that cure even was able to work, what if we ran the risk of you dying and not even being able to save the world. do you realize how devastated i would’ve been, if it was all for fucking nothing?”

“but we don’t fucking know that, what if it did work. i would’ve saved the world.”

“i would’ve lost you either way ellie, you matter so much to me and we were both so selfish and im sorry we did it but if we had the chance to do it again im sure we both would do it all over again. a million times over again.” you were pouring your heart out to her, you couldn’t lose her even if things weren’t going to be the same you weren’t going to lose her.

“i can’t do this shit anymore i need time. a break from…this.”

“a break?” your heart shattered.

“yes a break, i need time i can’t be with you right now.” you shook your head, you knew there was no way to sway her decision. so you nodded and grabbed your duffle bag and packed you clothes that you had in her room. she was sat on the edge of her bed with her head in her hands.

“i love you so much ellie i hope you know that.” you said as you walked out of the small garage.

the festival day

after your fight you had kept to yourself, talked to no one, nothing made you happy. your dad tried, he offered movie nights consisting of your favorite movies that you’d watch together, during the summer would offer to take you down to the lake for a lake day like old times, he would get you your favorite foods and even traded some of his precious coffee beans for you. you felt into a deep depression and obviously with it being the apocalypse there weren’t many resources, he had you start to go to the town therapist, gail, she was nice and helped but you just felt numb. ellie felt like everything to you and now she wasn’t. you had seen she had gotten close to dina and it made you feel like shit you had to watch from afar as they got closer and closer.

after the argument word went around quick and everyone knew ellie williams had dumped you, the rumors were endless and made your life hell, just hearing whispers from others and looks when you were out, not that it was often. your dad wanted you to get out more, this was a great opportunity, the festival. you knew she would be there, you wanted to see her but you knew dina would be there too. you really did not want to go to this thing but your dad had insisted it was going to be good for you. having been up in your room all day every day, missing patrols, not eating, just everything, he wanted you to get out even if you would see ellie. it had been a bit since you two had broken up, you have tried your best to talk to her, reason with her, bringing her flowers, trying to talk during patrols but nothing. she really wanted nothing to do with you and you couldn’t blame her one bit. you lied through your teeth for years to her and you shouldn’t have listened to your dad, you should’ve just told her the truth. you had wondered if she thought about you, wondered if she worried about you at all. or if she didn’t care at all and was healing from this all together.

ellie would be lying if she didn’t think about you, i mean besides riley, you were her first everything. she had barely seen you for the past few months, some weeks she even worried that you had died and she just didn’t know. you had gotten skinny and you looked tired, she noticed it when she did see you. ellie was worried about you, she still loved you a lot, she still cared for you and wished things were different but that feeling of betrayed got to her and she knew she wouldn’t be able to go back to you and that hurt her.

dina helped filling the void, she had a small crush on her but nothing like what she had with you. ellie knew this was shitty for using dina but you weren’t an option. her and dina haven’t actually done anything but she has been flirty since her and jesse broke up. she had pulled ellie to this festival, she really didn’t want to go.

you had threw on some unwashed jeans and a hoodie putting on deodorant to not smell like total shit. staring at the mirror in you room looking at your tired eyes and giant eye bags, groaning you walked downstairs to see your dad waiting by the door putting his jacket on.

“dad do i really have to go.”

“yes yes you do, all you do is sleep and stay in that room of yours, you need to get out and get some fresh air with everyone else.” he walked over to you and put his hands on your shoulders.

“please try and have some fun tonight, and don’t drink too much for my sake.” you rolled your eyes at him as you both walked out the door. you felt like a vampire, feeling blinded from the moonlight and the bright lights of the town. you felt drained, feeling like if you saw ellie you would burst into an ugly heaving sob. slightly resenting your dad for making you come, you both walked into the party and you were already dreading being here.

everyone was looking at you, you could already hear the whispers about your appearance. walking straight to the bar abandoning your dad to get a drink in you to at least bare the night. when you walked up you saw her talking to jesse, you made eye contact with her and stopped in your tracks, biting your lip to stop you from crying. walking the rest of the way up to the bar you asked for something strong. trying to keep your distance away from her your attention got caught by dina dancing around the dance floor with some guy. your eyes stayed on her as the song ended she made her way over to ellie saying a few words that you couldn’t make out and took ellie towards the dance floor. your face dropped keeping your eyes on them as dina pulled her close to her starting to sway side by side, all the air escaped your throat only being able to keep your eyes on them, ellie looked so happy with her. it gutted you, made you dizzy and want to vomit.

you had to look away but you couldn’t, you physically couldn’t. they got closer to each other now laying their heads on each others shoulders, you and ellie at made eye contact not even realizing the tears that had fallen down your face. she looked like she had a small frown on her face looking at you, she got pulled away slightly and her focus was back on dina. dina kissed her, she kissed ellie and you didnt even know how to react. holding your breath trying to restrain a sob. you could only hear your own breathing and heartbeat, almost felt like you were dying. getting pulled out of it hearing sean yell out a slur to both of them. it all seemed to happen so fast, your dad was up there within a minute defending ellie.

“what is wrong with you?” you picked up the argument and made your way closer to listen.

“he had no right-“

“and you did?”

“i don’t need your fucking help joel.” you ran your way through the crowd, pulling your dad away slightly.

“don’t you fucking talk to him like that.”

“this doesn’t involve you.” you stood closer to her almost face to face.

“it involved me when you yelled at my dad.”

“get out of my face.” she said so only you could hear.

“don’t fucking get on him for defending you.” she pushed you away and ran out of the building, you fell into joel slightly and scoffed at ellie’s actions. you didn’t realize what you were doing but you followed after ellie out of the building catching her halfway to her house.

“ellie!” she kept walking so you picked up your speed.

“ellie lets talk please!”

“what could we possibly talk about?”

“i- i don’t know, lets just stop for a second and talk please.”

“what do you want? to embarrass me again? tell me to leave joel alone when he had no reason to defend me?”

“he was fucking helping you ellie believe it or not he cares about you.”

“i didn’t need help thats the problem!” she started to walk back away not staying to hear what you had to say.

“it doesn’t matter ellie you can’t hate us forever.” stopping in her tracks she scoffed and started walking again causing you to follow behind and grabbing her shoulder. she whipped around and she slapped you. it surprised you, grabbing your face from the stinging pain that caused you. ellie’s expression dropped going to grab onto you, you pulled back. tears forming in your eyes yet again, feeling embarrassed for even trying to talk to her. ellie instantly regretted it and went to hold you causing you to flinch away.

“hey wait i-im sorry i really didnt mean to do that.”

“no don’t fucking touch me.” you shook your head moving around her to go run into your house.

“y/n! wait please im sorry!” you felt her behind you as you walked into the house, slamming the door in her face and running up to your room. you fell into your bed sobbing into your pillow the rest of the night.

ellie knew she fucked up, she fucked up bad. she wanted to go in there and console you, hold you and apologize profusely. ellie didn’t know what happened it just happened so fast. she ran back home, feeling the sobs come out of her chest.

4 hours before

you had patrol with your dad and tommy, you guys had been out really early due to the huge hoard of infected that had been seen close to jackson. you initially weren’t supposed to be here but you begged your dad to go this morning wanting to take your mind off things. it was terrible to think but maybe even get lost and never seen again. you knew ellie and dina had patrol together today, it made your stomach churn and your face grimaced at the thought of them getting to hang out today, especially after the events of the night before. you had been so tired from clearing out the places by jackson, it was cold and you were sick of it. meanwhile ellie and dina had just gotten their horses to head out.

“where are joel and tommy?” ellie asked jesse.

“they went out early with y/n to clear up some areas been out for awhile, so im gonna switch out with them so we can take their place and they can take a break.” she nodded, hearing your name knowing you were out there made her feel uneasy especially knowing she wasn’t there with you. she wanted to try and talk to you before she headed out but ended up sleeping in due to her crying herself to sleep.

they all went on their way, ellie just following behind dina since she didn’t know the trail they were taking. she sighed, ‘here we go’

2 hours before

ellie and dina had been cozying it up in a library due to the storm, whilst you had been caught up in a hoard. you guys had been running for what felt like hours, helping some girl out in the process. you felt weary about newer people, but you had no time to think about that right now. you had blood all over you, feeling the sweat pour down your head as you fought for your life. tommy had pushed the cart to get you guys out of there and back to the lodge where your horses were. feeling like you could breath, even if it was just for a second your dad had asked if you were doing okay you nodded feeling like you couldn’t speak. you felt a ringing in your ear as you saw the banging on door from the infected. your heart beating out of your chest not knowing what was to come. your dad pulled you and your hearing faded back into the loud bangs and screaming of the infected.

ellie and dina were laying on top of each other just having smoked and then had sex. laying with each other on the couch in the basement of the library. they were telling each other the stories on their scars when they heard running footsteps and jesse yelling for them. they rushed up off the couch to get some clothes on.

“are you kidding me?” jesse scoffs and turns around to let them change.

“you’re supposed to be on patrol.”

“there’s a blizzard outside.”

“is that weed?” jesse questioned as he took in the surroundings.

“why are you here?”

“people are counting on you, you get that? what we do matters!”

“then why aren’t you at the fucking lookout?”

“because tommy, joel and y/n didnt show up!” ellie shot her head up, and she got up swiftly.

“what do you mean?”

“we’ve been waiting for an hour, i was looking for their horses until i saw light.” ellie felt speechless, what if you guys were in trouble. dina turned to her.

“maybe they just went back to town.”

“without being replaced? no way.” ellie walked over to her bag grabbing it swiftly making her way to shimmer. you better be alive.

just minutes before

you guys had made it to the house finally feeling some sense of relief. the girl was with a bunch of other people, this didn’t feel right like you’re trapped now. you felt weird, you knew something was up and you wanted to leave.

“dad, i think we should leave.” you said in a hushed tone not wanting to give your suspicions away.

“what we jus’ got here.”

“this doesn’t feel right, i don’t trust them we should leave.”

“babygirl, its fine we will be alright.” he scoffed and tied up his horse walking away from you. you tried to trust him and relaxed your shoulders walking into the other room with everyone. you made sure you had your gun on you in case anything happens. you had drowned out their conversation until tommy elbowed you.

“that’s y/n, joel’s daughter.”

“y’all act like you heard of us or somethin’…” you saw the girl pull out a shot gun you weren’t able to react quick enough when the two people next to you grabbed you and knocked you over. your head slammed against the floor making you groan in pain.

“get off me!” you yelled seeing your dad with his leg basically shot out, you knew it you knew something was off.

now you’re here squirming as much as you can to get set free to try and help your dad, you didn’t know what else to do. you were panicking tommy was on the floor passed out and your dad had a blown out leg, how were you supposed to fight these guys. you were fucked. you had no other choice but to save your dad, you knew you wouldn’t come out of this alive.

ellie was frantically riding through the storm yelling for you guys hoping and praying you guys were safe, especially you. she found a house so she made her way over to try and find a way inside.

“please be okay.” her voice was shaky she felt tense and her stomach was in knots. making her way down and finding an opening in the house, she ran in and heard yelling. shit. she ran towards the noise finding a staircase and a door at the end leading towards whatever was down there. she could hear joel yelling your name. running down the staircase she opened the door slowly to find joel sitting being held down by two guys and you on the floor all bloodied and beaten. she gasped and ran in with her gun in hand, but she got tackled and pushed down.

“you’re gonna fucking die!” she yelled groaning at the scene she saw. she looked at joel seeing tears in his eyes, he looked defeated mumbling your name. he lost a lot of blood too much blood. she turned her attention back to you, seeing you stare at her, she didn’t want to look at you. you didn’t look the same her heart churned and she felt nauseous knowing you would die at the hands of some girl.

“baby get up! y/n fucking get up!” she wanted you to miraculously get up, she wanted this to be a bad dream. she swore she could see you mouth ‘i love you’ to her.

“please stop!”

“babygirl you gotta get up! please…” joel pleads, he feels his body start to slow down due to the loss of blood, he’s hoping he’s dying. he can’t bare to lose another daughter.

“please don’t do this!” she pleads and pleads hoping for that second that someone might come in and save them, save you.

“baby please get up!” her pleads going unheard, getting more desperate as they came out. the whole world seems to stop, her ears ringing not hearing anything else but her own sobs. she saw the golf club rise up and come right back down.

“noooo!!” all life comes back to her, hearing the crush of the club hitting you, making her feel queasy at the noise. the ringing noise was back as sobs rack her body as she sees all life leave your eyes. all her memories of you come crashing within a moment, before she could even think or do anything she was knocked out.

as she woke back up dina was in front of her telling her sorry, ellie hoped she would’ve woken up and she was in bed with you. there you had been lifeless on the ground, she could barely see your face covered by the blood. she wanted to look away but she couldn’t, seeing your lifeless body just laying there. she so badly wanted you to magically wake up and be okay. her eyes fell on joel who had just barely woken up checking his surroundings and his eyes falling on you. her body ached from laying there her head pounding, she tried to get up as quick as possible her body dragging against the floor to get to you. the path felt so far away but you were so close. moving the hair from your face she grimaced at the hair sticking from the dried up blood. her breath hitched as she pulled the hair away seeing what was left of your face, your eye covered and the other closed. she didn’t know where it came from but she started screaming, her throat hurting from the pure force of her screams. she picked herself up and pulled you into her lap, tears invading her eyes and her screams louder by the second.

joel soon after screaming with her, the emotions hitting him like the plague. wishing this wasn’t real that he had lost another daughter. his youngest, his pride and joy that he couldn’t protect, just like sarah. jesse was helping tommy up as he stumbled back seeing the scene in front of him, his own voice getting caught up in a gasp.

“no please wake up!! fuck! help me please someone! she has to wake up please please…” ellie sounded desperate her voice slowly becoming more and more pleading for someone, something to come help. joel had tried his best to crawl to ellie, holding her as close as possible. more people from patrols came down gasping at the image in front of them, helping joel up and pulling ellie away. she thrashed around in dina’s arms wanting to go back to you.

“please please! i need to hold her! she’s going to wake up please!!.” she pleaded and slowly stopped and all she let out were whimpers and whispers of pleads. she knew you weren’t coming back, she knew she didn’t have another chance to apologize, she didn’t have another chance with you. ellie forgot about why she was even mad at you, why she had stopped talking to you, all she wanted was you back and you weren’t coming back. she regretted everything, she wished she could’ve said i love you or kissed you one last time.

the ride back and anything after that was a blur, ellie felt dead she felt like her heart stopped and she was just in purgatory. when she got back to jackson she didn’t even want to go home, knowing you weren’t going to be there. ellie wanted to be left alone but she didn’t at the same time, she didn’t know what she wanted really. she stayed with joel not wanting to leave his side knowing how he must feel right now. they had taken him to the infirmary to get his leg treated, ellie had gotten treated and waited just outside after. sitting on the steps not moving staring at the snow that was coating the ground.

“hey kiddo…” joel came back out with a patched up leg. ellie whipped around to see him staring at her holding his arms out. she jumped up and crashed into him, the tears coming back like a wave. they stayed like that for a little bit soaking in the warmth of each others bodies until ellie pulled back.

“m’sorry i got your shirt wet.” she sniffled and wiped her face.

“is’okay kiddo…they uh they’re gonna have a small lighting for her and were gonna bury her, i think you should be there to say goodbye.” she nodded and that was a response enough for joel. he pulled her back into a hug the smell of him reminded her of you, it brought her comfort. when she held you, you didn’t smell the same you only smelt of blood and she hated it. ellie couldn’t stop smelling it and seeing you laying there.

she stayed with joel, picking out an outfit for you to wear, getting you ready to be buried and helping him walk over to the cemetery with her. they hadn’t shared much words between each other but being each others company right now helped them both. standing next to each other at the lighting, ellie had barely listened to what maria was saying and all the speeches. her thoughts were all jumbled, thinking about how you had looked. they had let it be open casket, which ellie thought was a shitty way of saying goodbye to loved ones. tommy had went first seeing your cleaned off face being able to recognize you but your face was still not intact, it made his gut drop and he swallowed loudly. tears coming to his eyes as he sees how cold and pale you look. he kisses your forehead and walks to the side to let ellie go next.

she didn’t want to look she didn’t want to believe that you were in your casket at the age of 19. it wasn’t supposed to be like this, you weren’t supposed to be in there. she slowly made her way over and peaked in the casket seeing you cleaned from the blood, you face wasn’t the same. she let out a loud sob and felt her knees buckle underneath her, joel held onto her as she sobbed looking at your lifeless body.

“im so sorry baby…please come back please. i need you here i can’t live life without you here.” she sobbed with her body over the casket, she grabbed your hand and she didn’t feel the warmth of your skin, it felt cold. ellie pulled herself up and tried to warm you up, kissing your hand and blowing into it thinking it might help. she wanted you to feel warmth before you were buried into the cold icy ground.

“i love you so much, please wake up.” ellie sounded desperate, joel was crying seeing you in there and seeing ellie hunch over your body. he was thankful that he was able to say goodbye to you but kids shouldn’t die before their parents. he felt like he failed again as a parent it should’ve been him in there and not you, he knew he should’ve done something. he kissed your forehead and said goodbye to you, they all walked off and they lowered you in the ground. ellie felt like she couldn’t breathe, her heart was pounding out of her chest and she had cried to the point of a headache. she started to feel the soreness from getting beat up, she needed to lie down.

the ceremony ended and everyone dispersed back to their homes, saying sorry for your loss as they passed ellie and joel. ellie didn’t say anything, she just stared at the ground. they all left and it was just ellie, joel, tommy and maria.

“let me know when you want to leave, i’ve got your back don’t worry.” tommy whispered to joel as they hugged. ellie knew what they were going to do, they were trying to leave to find those people and leave you behind. she wasn’t going to let that happen. tommy left with maria and left them alone together.

“were you just going to leave without me and think that would be okay?” her voice sounded hoarse, her throat in pain from screaming.

“i don’t want you going kiddo, we don’t know what were up against.”

“exactly why i should go, you have a blown out leg joel.”

“ill make it work, i don’t want you goin’.”

“im going i don’t care, she means a lot to me too. i love her too i have the right to go and help.” joel knows she’s right, he has a blown out leg for crying out loud, he can barely walk. he sighs and nods.

“you’re right you’re right…ill come get you, were leaving later tonight.” they both walked back to their respected homes. ellie ran into her little garage and grabbed her backpack to pack what she needed. ellie felt anger now, she felt the rage build up in her to find who did this and kill them she felt thirsty for blood and needed to get revenge. it was all for you, she knows if it was her or joel you would’ve been long gone by now she wanted needed an outlet to let her anger out and it was getting revenge. she was going to find and she was going to kill every last one of them.

———————————————————————————

a/n: i kind of gave up at the end up i’ve had this in my drafts for months and wanted to get back to writing!

[diamonddaze01]

WHAT'S UP, DANGER?

ᯓ★PAIRING: williams driver! hansol x aerodynamics engineer! reader | ᯓ★WC: 4.1K ᯓ★GENRE: pure fluff ᯓ★RECOMMENDED LISTENING: what’s up danger, blackway & black caviar → the song williams revealed their 2025 car to! ᯓ★A/N:  purely self-indulgent, based on a conversation i had with @ylangelegy about williams!hansol. // williams looks so strong this year and it’s all because alex albon worked for YEARS to help design this car // side note: i literally pulled out all my old meche and aerodynamics notes to write this. its most definitely inaccurate. oh well

read the rest of the pedal to the metal universe here!

ᯓ★SUMMARY: There were a million things you expected on your first day at Williams, but a driver waiting for you at your desk with a napkin sketch in hand was not one of them.

60 DAYS UNTIL PRE-SEASON TESTING

There were a million things you expected on your first day at Williams, but a driver waiting for you at your desk with a napkin sketch in hand was not one of them.

You barely had time to settle in before a figure appeared at your side. His presence is immediate—Hansol, the team’s lead driver, standing in the doorway like he owns the place.

“Chwe, leave the engineers alone,” a voice calls out from the back. You don’t even need to look up to know it’s your boss, his tone dripping with exasperation. But Hansol doesn’t flinch, doesn’t break his quiet focus. He stands still, arms folded, and waits.

“Got ideas,” he says, like that’s enough. His voice, typically cool and calculated on the track, now carries an edge of something more… urgent.

Your fingers hover over the crumpled napkin he slides across your desk, its surface marked with grease stains and ink smudges. The edges are folded in on themselves, like it’s been stuffed in a pocket a little too long.

You glance up at him. “Do you have an engineering degree?”

“No,” he says, flat. “But I drive the damn car.”

You lean back in your chair, eyeing him carefully. “That doesn’t mean you know how to fix it.”

His eyes narrow, the slightest shift in his posture. “It does mean I know when something’s wrong.”

It’s a challenge.

You pull the napkin toward you, smoothing out the folds, your fingers tracing the lines. The sketch is rough—an almost-doodle—but there’s something in it, a fragment of an idea that, for some reason, makes sense.

“…This is wrong,” you say, tapping a section.

Hansol’s mouth twitches—not quite a smirk, but close. “Prove it.”

And just like that, the war begins.

You don’t back down. You’ve barely settled into your desk, haven’t even finished setting up your workspace, but if this is how things are going to be, so be it. You’re not here to entertain half-baked theories from a driver who thinks seat time makes him an aerodynamicist.

Still, the sketch isn’t complete nonsense. That’s what annoys you the most. The concepts are crude, the numbers nonexistent, but the logic? It’s almost there.

Hansol watches as you grab a pen, flipping open your notebook. “This,” you say, underlining a section, “assumes we’re generating enough downforce at high speed to compensate for the drag penalty.” You tap the napkin. “We’re not.”

For a moment, his expression doesn’t change. But the slight twitch of his mouth, the faintest upward curve, almost imperceptible, is enough to tell you you’re not wrong.

“But what if we could?”

You blink, taken aback by the suggestion.

“Explain,” you murmur, leaning forward.

He steps closer, voice calm but his gaze steady, never leaving you. “I think the lack of load distribution on the floor is messing with stability in high-speed corners. The balance shifts mid-corner—if we get better floor efficiency, we wouldn’t have to compensate so much with the front wing.”

You stare at him. For a driver, he’s making too much sense.

“This is aerodynamics,” you say, finally.

He exhales, almost a sigh, like the answer was obvious all along. “It’s not just a drag issue. It’s an efficiency issue.”

It’s a simple observation. And yet, you know that if you’d said it first, it wouldn’t have sounded nearly as clear.

“Alright,” you say, more to yourself than him, already calculating the possibilities in your head. “I’ll look into it.”

His lips twitch again—there’s something almost amused in it. “Good.”

And then, just like that, he’s gone. The space around you seems to breathe again, the hum of the garage filling the silence. You can’t help but shake your head, a small, disbelieving smile tugging at your lips.

37 DAYS UNTIL PRESEASON TESTING

The simulation runs in loops, numbers flashing across the screen like the world’s most unforgiving clock.

You watch Hansol’s inputs on the virtual track, tracing the movements of the car, every corner, every adjustment, the feedback looping with a precision that almost makes you forget you’re still inside the factory. His movements are sharp, calculated, but something feels off. You can see it immediately—the way the car’s drifting in the corners, the faint shift of the rear end when he throttles too early. It’s all there, hidden beneath the data.

The feedback’s not right. The car’s too unstable in the high-speed sections, and his hands aren’t the problem. The numbers don’t lie: the aerodynamics are throwing everything off. He’s fighting the car, and it’s costing him time in places he can’t afford.

“God, you’re pushing too hard,” you mutter, eyes glued to the screen. You zoom in on the telemetry, tracing the spikes and dips in the graph. A flick of a button and the frame pauses. You scan it again. You can practically feel the instability—every oversteer, every correction. The car’s not talking to him the way it should.

You’re still caught up in the data when you hear him, a shadow falling across the room. His footsteps are silent against the concrete.

“Pushing too hard in Sector 2,” you mutter, your eyes never leaving the screen. The telemetry data’s sharp, slicing through the silence. It tells you everything you need to know.

Hansol leans against the monitors, still in his race suit, his helmet dangling loosely from his hand. His eyes never leave you. You can feel the weight of his gaze, a quiet intensity that somehow fills every corner of the room. The corners of his mouth twitch, just barely, like he’s fighting a grin. “That’s the sector where I have to push.”

You let the data flicker again, deliberately slow, as if it might make him see the picture you’re painting in silence. Then you turn to face him. Arms crossed, you meet his eyes head-on, letting the pause stretch for just a beat too long. “Not if the car’s unstable.” You watch his reaction closely—does he get it? Does he feel it, too? “You’re losing time because you’re fighting it.”

He doesn’t say anything for a beat. His eyes drop to the numbers, just for a moment, almost like he’s seeing the simulation for the first time, letting the feedback hit him in a way he hasn’t. It’s like he’s looking for that one elusive piece of the puzzle, the thing you both know is there, but neither of you can quite name yet.

Then he speaks, voice low. “So fix it.”

You exhale slowly, the weight of all the late nights, the endless back-and-forths, the simulations, the math, the wind tunnels. It’s been weeks of this. Not just him—you, too. But when he speaks like that, like it’s simple, like all the parts of this fragile, complicated machine are just waiting for someone to press the right button, you feel a flicker of frustration. Maybe it’s just the exhaustion of being so close and yet so far.

You spin around to face the whiteboard, your fingers digging into the edge. “We’re trying something new in the wind tunnels. If I’m right, it should stabilize corner entry.” The words come out quicker than you intended, like you’re trying to beat the clock, trying to force the car to understand what it should be doing.

His gaze shifts from you to the whiteboard, then back to your face, cool and unwavering. “If you’re wrong?”

You can almost hear the smile in his voice, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him yet. Instead, you tap the edge of the table, focusing on the data again, the swirl of numbers almost a distraction. “Then you owe me drinks.”

There’s a beat of silence, but you can feel him. You can feel the air shift with his grin, the quiet twitch of his lips. “I feel like that should be the other way around.”

“Too late.” Your tone is final, and you turn back to face him, finally meeting his eyes. There’s something in them, something that says this isn’t over. It’s never over between you two—not really.

His lips curl into a half-smirk, but it’s fleeting. Then, with one last glance at the screens, he pushes himself off the desk, straightening up in a way that somehow makes him seem taller, broader, even more imposing. “We’ll see.”

And just like that, he’s gone—his footsteps fading into the hum of the garage, leaving behind only the faint echo of his presence.

For a long moment, you’re left alone with the buzzing of your thoughts, the unrelenting tick of the clock, and the quiet hum of anticipation that still lingers in the air. 

His challenge hangs there, like a dare. 

Fix it.

23 DAYS UNTIL PRESEASON TESTING

The hum of the factory feels too quiet now that the team’s gone home. The last of the lights flicker in the hallway outside your office, and even the sound of the ventilation seems muted, like the whole building’s winding down for the night. Except you’re still here, hunched over your desk, staring at a CAD model that’s starting to blur. The screens in front of you are all you can see—numbers, lines, angles, just another late-night grind that hasn’t gone right.

You’re on your third cup of coffee, trying to ignore the tickle at the back of your eyes, the pull of exhaustion you know will hit hard in a few hours. But there’s something—something that’s not clicking with the design. You can feel it, a faint tug in your gut like a thread you can’t quite pull.

The soft chime of the door makes you pause, just long enough to listen. Someone’s here.

You don’t need to look up.

“Thought you’d still be here.”

His voice slides through the air, casual but unmistakable, and you glance up for a fraction of a second, catching Hansol in the doorway. He’s holding a bag in one hand, the other tucked into the pocket of his jacket. His eyes are already on you, the same quiet intensity, but there’s something else there now—like a challenge you don’t quite understand.

You raise an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting some rest?”

He shrugs, stepping into the room with the same slow, deliberate stride that’s always made you notice him, even if you pretend you don’t. His gaze flickers over the CAD models still open on your screen, the complex curves of the car’s floor design stretched out in digital space.

“Can’t sleep.” He pauses for a beat, his lips twitching just slightly. “Couldn’t help noticing you’re about two seconds away from crashing your computer.”

Your fingers hover over the mouse, stilling for a moment as you absorb the comment. You want to shoot back something sharp, something about not needing anyone’s help, but instead, you just lean back in your chair, eyes still on the screen. “I’m fine.”

He steps closer, that bag of food still in his hand. You hear the crinkle of paper, and then a faint, familiar scent hits your senses—something warm, comforting, like… your favorite late-night food. A small frown pulls at your lips. How did he know?

You look up this time, meeting his gaze fully. He’s standing there, holding the bag out to you like it's the most casual thing in the world, though there’s a flicker of something in his eyes you can’t place.

“You’re the only one in this building still awake,” he says, his voice low, like it’s a joke only he gets. “Figured you could use some actual food.”

Your stomach gives a small, almost imperceptible growl, and you curse yourself for it. He smirks, ever so slightly, like he’s enjoying it.

“I didn’t order—”

He cuts you off, tone almost teasing. “I know. I did.”

The bag smells of something rich, comforting, and you know exactly what it is before you even open it. You never told him you liked it. Never had to.

“Thanks,” you murmur, taking the bag from him, fingers brushing briefly against his. It’s a simple moment, one you could pretend didn’t mean anything—but it does.

He stands there for a second, watching you as you dig through the bag. His eyes don’t leave you, not for a second. There’s something unspoken hanging in the air, like the weight of the last few weeks suddenly becomes tangible.

“Don’t eat too fast,” he says, his tone careful now, like he’s trying to sound casual, but it isn’t. It’s not casual. He’s not casual.

You glance up at him, eyes narrowing in that way that says you’re trying to find the right words. “Why? Afraid I’ll choke?”

Hansol’s lips quirk up, just the smallest curve of a smile. “Not at all.” He shifts his weight, his gaze shifting just a fraction of a second before he looks at you again. “But if you crash, I’ll have to deal with your stubborn ass on the track tomorrow.”

The words hit you differently this time. You swallow a bite, the food almost tasteless for a moment as your pulse spikes, but you don’t let it show.

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. So you eat instead, letting the quiet hang between you like a conversation that never happened, or one that’s already been said too many times. The tension lingers in the space, unspoken and real, like a race about to start without either of you quite ready for the gunshot.

Hansol doesn’t move. He stays by the door, arms crossed now, watching you like he’s waiting for something. Or maybe just watching because it’s easier than saying what’s in his head.

After a long silence, he shifts on his feet, clearing his throat. “Well, I’m going to head out,” he says, but the words don’t quite match the way his eyes linger a moment longer than they should. “You’ve got things covered here, right?”

You glance up at him, meeting his gaze. For a heartbeat, the world stops moving. The air crackles, like it’s charged with something neither of you can quite place.

“Yeah,” you say, voice steady, “I’ve got it.”

He doesn’t nod, doesn’t say anything else. Just turns, walking out the door like he’s leaving, but in a way, you know he isn’t. Not really.

The door clicks shut behind him, and the quiet settles in again, but it’s different now.

12 DAYS UNTIL PRESEASON TESTING

It’s late (again), hours stretching into an endless hum of calculations and adjustments. You’ve got the CAD program open on the screen in front of you, the numbers and simulations blending together into an intricate mess of numbers that don’t quite line up the way you need them to. You’re getting close, but every time you adjust something, it seems to get worse.

Hansol is perched on the corner of the big oak conference table, legs swinging idly as he watches you. You don’t know when he’s been here for so long, but you’re too caught up in the data to care. The room is dim, lit only by the soft glow of the screen, and all you can focus on is the problem at hand.

You tap a few more keys and tweak the load distribution again. A faint furrow creases your brow. It’s not working. It’s not supposed to be this complicated.

“Have you considered adjusting the load distribution across the rear end in sector three?” His voice cuts through the silence, casual but pointed.

You blink, pausing mid-swipe. “What?”

“You’re carrying too much load through the rear tires. That’s why the car’s losing stability at entry.” He leans forward, resting his arms across his knees. “It’s not about the front oversteer. It’s about how the rear is reacting when you try to push through.”

You furrow your brow, trying to break it down in your head. You’ve been running numbers all night—all week—but this? This isn’t something you’ve even thought to look at. The rear distribution.

You swipe through the numbers, pulling up the load distribution graph again, zeroing in on sector three. Your finger taps against the screen, the familiar patterns of tire wear and load data flashing in front of you.

“Look,” Hansol continues, “in sector three, you’re bleeding too much load from the rear tires when you hit the apex. It’s causing them to slip earlier than expected, but the data just… doesn’t show it. The front’s fine, but the rear’s handling it all wrong.”

It takes a moment for his words to sink in. You adjust a few parameters on the screen, pulling the load distribution slider across. You’re silent for a long stretch, watching the numbers shift, recalculating, mentally reviewing every twist in the data.

And then, it clicks.

The back end of the car is too soft, under-loaded during that critical entry phase. No one’s noticed because they’ve all been looking at the front tires—trying to balance the downforce and stabilize the load there—but the rear is what’s tipping it over the edge.

Your fingers fly across the keyboard, adjusting the balance, redistributing the force, smoothing the curves, and—there. The graph sharpens into place. The load is spread evenly now, the numbers lining up in a way that feels… right. The data shifts, the simulation running smoother.

You let out a yelp, loud enough that Hansol nearly falls off the edge of the table. He scrambles for a second, eyes wide. “What the hell was that?”

Before you can even think, you’re off your chair and lunging toward him, throwing your arms around his neck in an unexpected, victorious hug. You barely even register it happening. The relief, the rush, the moment where everything finally clicks.

“I got it,” you gasp into his shoulder, your voice almost too loud in the quiet room. It’s raw excitement, an emotion you didn’t even know you were holding in until now.

Hansol’s hands come up to steady you, instinctively wrapping around your waist. He’s still a little stunned, but the hint of a grin pulls at the corner of his lips. “You’re crazy,” he mutters, though there’s something almost amused in his voice. He doesn’t pull back, not immediately, even as you start to realize how much closer you are to him than usual.

You pull away, breath still coming in quick bursts, suddenly aware of the awkwardness of the moment. Your face heats up, your gaze flickering away from his. “Sorry,” you mumble, feeling ridiculously self-conscious now. “I—uh, I didn’t mean to—”

But Hansol doesn’t move away. Instead, his fingers brush against the skin under your eyes, where your bangs have fallen messily, and with a gentleness that catches you off guard, he sweeps them back. His thumb skims across your face, cool and soft. His gaze is steady, but his smile? It’s that damn knowing smirk.

“Well done,” he says, his voice quiet, but there’s a certain weight to it. “Now get some rest.”

You blink, a little dazed from everything—because somehow, in the span of a few seconds, it feels like something’s shifted.

But before you can figure out what to say, he pulls back just enough to head for the door, voice lingering in the space between you both. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t screw this up.”

And it’s teasing. It’s definitely teasing. But there’s something else there, too. Something you can’t quite name.

FORMULA 1 ARAMCO PRE-SEASON TESTING 2025 Track: Bahrain International Circuit

The heat wraps itself around everything, clinging to your skin like a second layer. You pay it no mind, too focused on the tablet in front of you and the way your pulse thunders in your throat. 

The first lap comes in. Solid. Not great, but solid. The engineers around you murmur, their eyes glued to their own screens, fingers moving with purpose. The air smells like oil and exhaust, the sound of tires skimming over tarmac cutting through the stillness.

The second lap is better. A little faster, a little smoother. You feel the shift, the subtle change in the rhythm. He’s finding it. But it’s the fourth lap that makes your heart skip.

By then, you’re leaning forward so far that your fingers are starting to cramp on your tablet. You can hear every breath you take, every soft click of your nails as you tap through the data. The sector times pop up, a blur of numbers that doesn’t make sense until you read it again. Purple. Purple. Purple.

The screen feels alive in your hands. The tires are biting, the engine roaring to life with a speed you didn’t expect to see today. Hansol’s pushing. Not just the car, but the limits of everything.

A small part of you wants to look away. It feels too much like waiting for a train to derail. You don’t, though. Your eyes stay glued to the screen, each new sector time only adding to the rush building in your chest. The screen flashes again, and your fingers go cold despite the heat around you.

FASTEST SPEED TRAP

The corners of your mouth pull into a triumphant smile without you even realizing it.

Hansol’s lap finishes, and the moment hangs for a beat longer than it should, the sound of the car coasting back to the pit lane filling the silence like a distant drumbeat. You hear him before you see him. The way his engine still hums in the pit lane, the roar of the crowd inside his head, even though the only sound that remains is the distant squeal of tires.

The garage doors roll up as the car pulls in, and when Hansol climbs out, his helmet comes off with the same easy grace he’s always had. His face is flushed, sweat dripping down his neck, but there’s something different about the way he moves. More electric. More alive.

He strides over to you without hesitation, his eyes already locked on yours, a grin spreading across his face. It’s not the usual cocky smile he pulls when he’s already feeling himself. This one’s satisfied, a little wicked, but mostly: I told you so.

You straighten up, trying to hide the way your chest tightens at the sight of him—his fireproofs clinging to his skin, droplets of sweat rolling down his neck in that way that makes you wonder if you’ve ever seen him before. Or if you’d been too busy pretending not to notice him.

He stops in front of you, and for a second, you don’t know what to say.

Then he breaks the silence. “The napkin never lies.”

You roll your eyes, but the corner of your mouth betrays you. “Shut up, Hansol.” 

Your voice doesn’t match the words. It’s harder than you meant, quieter than you thought, but he just laughs, that low, breathless sound that cuts through the air with ease. It’s a laugh full of energy and sweat and something else you can’t quite place.

“I’ll let you make it up to me with drinks after,” he says, still catching his breath, chest rising and falling from the exertion, as if he hasn’t just shredded the track in a way you didn’t think was possible for him.

You squint at him, narrowing your eyes like you’re trying to figure out if he’s still teasing or if there’s something more hidden in his words. “Are you asking me out?” you ask, only half-joking.

For the first time today, he falters. Just the slightest hesitation. His eyes flicker away from you, then back again, like he’s unsure whether to give a response or not. He just shrugs, a small shrug, one that somehow feels like a challenge all on its own. “And if I am?”

A laugh nearly slips from your lips before you catch yourself. You could press him, make him answer, but instead, you gather your things in a motion that’s almost too casual to be believed.

“Took you long enough,” you reply, the words slipping out before you even process them.

He doesn’t say anything else, but his eyes linger on you for a beat longer than necessary. Then, without warning, he leans in, close enough that you can feel his breath against your ear.

“You’re buying the first round,” he murmurs, his voice low and almost intimate.

You freeze, the words sinking in a little too deep. When you turn to meet his eyes, there’s that same challenge, but with a quiet intensity that makes it impossible to look away.

“Count on it,” you reply, barely above a whisper, as he walks out. 

The moment hangs in the air long after he’s gone.