the-record

[the-record]

my chest hurts this is BEAUTIFUL

when the wine runs out

ellie williams x female!reader

main masterlist

summary: you met ellie at a late-night dive bar. and somehow, she ended up in your bed by dawn.

word count: 5.5k

THE BAR smelled like beer and cheap cologne, the air heavy with something thick—heat, maybe, or desperation. Ellie was already regretting the second shot of whatever Jesse had shoved into her hand, tongue still numb from it, when they pushed through the doors.

It wasn’t even a cool bar. Not really. One of those try-hard places with neon signs and floor lights, but Jesse had said it was the spot, and Dina had rolled her eyes, and Ellie—Ellie just followed. And she was mid-eye roll, already writing off the crowd, the noise, the way everything felt like it wanted to press in, when she saw you.

Dead center of the room. Laughing. Spinning. Glitter catching on your cheeks like you'd kissed a star goodbye and kept the residue. Your hair was damp with sweat, your chest rising and falling like you hadn’t stopped moving all night. And everyone was watching you—sure, they were. But no one looked at you the way Ellie did in that second.

Like you were a fucking mirage.

It hit her like a bruise. Like a punch to the ribs, slow and blooming. Her hand tightened around the rim of her glass and she almost forgot how to swallow.

You didn’t see her yet. Of course you didn’t. You were too busy dancing like the music was yours, like the whole place was just background noise to the world happening inside your head. Your laugh cracked open the bass, clear as a bell. Your smile lit up the goddamn shadows. And she wasn’t usually like this.

She wasn’t the poetic one. She didn’t fall headfirst. But she could already feel the words clattering around in her mouth. Want. Need. Stay.

“You good?” Dina asked, bumping her shoulder. Ellie didn’t even blink.

“Yeah,” she said, voice rough. “Yeah. I just…”

She trailed off because she didn’t know how to finish that sentence. ‘I just saw God and she's dripping glitter. I just saw the reason I came here and didn’t know it. I just saw you.’

Jesse followed her line of sight and let out a low whistle. “Damn,” he muttered. “She looks like a born again wild card.”

Ellie didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her jaw was locked, her heartbeat somewhere in her throat. There were people between you—bodies, sweat, the beat of a remix that barely held together—but Ellie could see you like there was no one else. Could feel you.

You tilted your head back, laughed again, and Ellie felt her knees go soft.

And for the first time in a long time, maybe since the world started ending and starting over and ending again, she wanted something with teeth. Something that didn’t make sense, something stupid. She wanted to walk straight into the storm you were and never come out.

And she didn’t even know your fucking name.

“Ellie,” Dina said again, her voice softer this time.

But Ellie didn’t move. She just stared. Until you turned like you’d felt her looking. Just like that. One spin, hips still swaying, and suddenly your eyes locked on hers through the haze of bodies and bass. You didn’t look surprised. You looked like you’d been waiting.

And Ellie? Ellie froze.

Your smile widened, and her stomach dropped through the floor. Jesse caught it instantly, let out a low “Oh, shit,” beside her, and Ellie didn’t even flicker in his direction.

You didn’t hesitate. No dramatic pause, no slow approach. You walked straight toward her, sweat and glitter still clinging to your neck like jewelry. The people around you seemed to part without even realizing, like the crowd made room for you out of instinct. Or reverence.

You didn’t say hi. You just reached for her hand—warm fingers wrapping around hers, calloused from guitar strings, and yanked.

“Hey—wait, wait” Ellie stumbled forward, instinctively tugging back. “I don’t—I don’t dance.”

You stopped and turned around to face her fully. Up close, you were ridiculous. Sparkles dusted your collarbones like stardust. There was a smear of highlighter across your cheekbone, and Ellie had the sudden, awful urge to trace it with her thumb.

Your breath smelled like mint and alcohol, and she didn't mind. She didn’t care if you were drinking something too sweet or if your lip gloss got stuck to her mouth. She’d taste every version of you just to say she had.

You leaned in just enough for her to hear you over the beat.

“That’s okay,” you said, all casual mischief and magnetism. “No one will be watching anyway.”

And then you grinned. Like this was a joke you’d already told yourself and the punchline was Ellie’s heartbeat skipping a step. But everyone would be watching, because you were there.

Jesse’s voice was fading behind her, something about good luck or don’t die or maybe remember to breathe, but none of it registered. Your hand tugged her forward again, and she let you.

She let you drag her into the chaos. The floor swallowed you both whole; the throbbing lights, music that hit in the chest more than the ears, strangers pressed shoulder-to-shoulder. But somehow, inside all that noise, it felt quiet.

It was just her. And you.

You didn’t make her dance. Not really. You just danced around her. Your hips swayed, your arms draped over her shoulders once, teasing and light, and your eyes stayed locked to hers like you were trying to pull something out. Ellie’s hands hovered awkwardly at her sides until you grabbed one and placed it gently—gently, like it mattered—at your waist.

“See?” you whispered. “You’re already doing it.”

Ellie shook her head, cheeks burning, but you laughed again, and she swore it rewired something in her. God, that laugh.

She forgot the music. Forgot the lights. She forgot the fact that she’d come here tonight just to get a little drunk and hide in a booth with her friends. You were here now. You were everything now.

You leaned closer again, your mouth brushing the shell of her ear. “You look like you’re thinking way too hard.”

“I’m not,” she lied, because she was thinking so much. About you. About how you felt in her hands, how you moved like you belonged to the rhythm, and she was just lucky enough to be orbiting in your pull.

“You’re cute when you lie,” you said, pulling back. “Kind of obvious. It’s adorable.”

Ellie tried to laugh, but it came out like a breath.

Then—after another beat of dancing, of you spinning and pulling her close again—your mouth dipped low near hers, and you said, “You’re not from around here.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a knowing. You were full of those truths, wrapped in teasing.

“No,” Ellie admitted. “First time at this place.”

You smiled like you’d known that the second you saw her. “Figures. You walked in like you didn’t want to belong to any of it.”

“Yeah?” Ellie tilted her head, biting her lower lip with nervousness. She should’ve said something cool. She didn’t. Instead, “what’s your name?”

You looked at her, eyes glinting, and said, “Does it matter?”

“I kinda think it does.”

You thought about that. Really thought about it. Then leaned in and whispered your name like it was a secret you were letting her borrow, just for tonight. It rang in her chest like a melody. Like something she already knew.

“Ellie,” she said back. “That’s mine.”

You repeated it, now closer to her lips. And she could've sworn her knees buckled. Ellie’s hands didn’t float at her sides now; they rested on your hips like they belonged there. The crowd didn’t feel as loud anymore. Like you were both underwater and only each other’s faces were in focus.

And then you got close again. Really close. Close enough for your lips to graze her ear.

“I want to tell you something,” you said.

Ellie swallowed. “Yeah?”

You pulled back and looked her dead in the eye. Serious, for the first time. A flicker of something behind your smile. Something just shy of sad.

“I think you’re gonna fuck me up,” you said.

Ellie blinked. She didn’t know what to say. You didn’t wait for her to figure it out.

You were still dancing. Still shining, and your mouth keep whispering wild things to her. Things like stay a little longer. And who has she to decline such an offer?

Time felt drunker than she was. The lights pulsed softer now, more like a heartbeat than a strobe, and Ellie’s feet barely remembered what not dancing felt like. Her mouth was dry, her fingers still ghosting your skin like they hadn’t realized the song was over.

You were leaning against the bar now, one arm slung lazily across the counter, your glitter mostly smudged and sweat dampening the curls at the back of your neck. You looked at her like she was the most interesting thing in the room—even now, even after hours of everything.

Ellie didn’t know what to do with that.

You ordered two drinks with a grin and the kind of charm that made the bartender smile too long. You turned back to her, eyes heavy, pupils wide, cheeks pink with warmth or alcohol or both. She’d lost track of how many drinks she’d had, only knew her body felt light, and her brain felt loud. And you were everywhere.

Before she could say something stupid—probably about how your nose scrunched when you laughed or how you hadn't let go of her hand all night—she heard Jesse’s voice from behind.

“There you are,” he said, low and amused. Dina stood beside him, coat over her arm, tired but watching Ellie with that look that meant we’re gonna talk about this later.

“We’re heading out,” Jesse added. “Want a ride?”

Ellie blinked. She looked at you. You were looking at her, waiting.

She shook her head. “Nah. I’m good.”

Dina raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Ellie said. Her voice was steady, but her chest wasn’t. “I want to—uh. I’m staying.”

Jesse smirked, and Dina tugged his sleeve. “Text us if you need anything,” she said, voice softer now. And then they were gone, the door swinging shut behind them.

You slid her drink toward her. “Friends leaving?”

“Yeah,” Ellie said, fingers curling around the glass. “I’m staying, though.”

The bar noise kept spilling around you both for a while, until you leaned in close again, that breathy little edge to your voice that made every word sound secret.

“Wanna get out of here?”

Ellie nodded before her brain even caught up.

You took her hand again—fingers laced this time—and pulled her through the crowd like you were leading her to something holy.

YOU LIVED just past the 7-Eleven.

Ellie didn’t know that until the two of you were stumbling down the sidewalk, half-dizzy from the bar’s warmth and the weight of everything unsaid. You’d peeled her out of the last chorus, fingers laced with hers, saying something like ‘Come on. It’s not far.’

She hadn’t even asked where.

The street was quiet, dipped in shadows and old porch lights. Somewhere behind you, the world was still spinning its noise, but here—it was just the smell of pavement and wet leaves, your voice like sugar melting in her ear.

“So,” you said, swinging your arm lazily in hers, “what’s your damage, Ellie?”

She laughed despite herself. “Jesus.”

“You’ve got baggage,” you added, like it was charming. “So do I. Don’t worry. I won’t unpack mine if you don’t.”

She almost said something like I don’t want to fuck this up but swallowed it. Instead, she squeezed your hand a little tighter. You tugged her to a stop at the crosswalk. The red light lit up both your faces, washing you in color. Cars passed slowly. You looked like a movie scene she’d never admit she’d dreamed of.

Ellie didn’t mean to say it. Not all of it. But your hand was warm, and your thumb was brushing back and forth against her skin, and your hair was a mess, and she was just drunk enough to be honest. 

 “I don’t do this,” she said. You looked at her. “I don’t let people in,” she added, voice lower. “Not fast. Not like this.” You didn’t say anything, not right away. So she kept going. “I feel like I’ve known you longer than tonight. And that’s stupid. And I’m probably reading this wrong. But I don’t want it to be nothing. Does that sound stupid?”

You tilted your head. A car whooshed by. The red light held. And you didn’t answer, you just smiled. But there was something underneath it. A sadness she couldn’t name. The light turned green. You crossed the street in silence, hand still wrapped in hers, and didn’t let go even once.

Your apartment was a few floors up, door painted a chipped blue, a wind chime hanging that didn’t match anything else. Inside, it smelled like sage and vanilla and something soft. You dropped your bag. Toed off your shoes. And fell onto the couch like you’d done it a thousand times before.

Ellie stayed standing.

“You want another drink?” you asked, already reaching for a bottle on the counter.

“Sure,” she said, but she didn’t care about the drink.

You poured two, and handed her one. She took a sip. Winced. “Jesus, what is this?”

“Courage,” you grinned.

You sat next to her again, this time with your legs crossed under you, arm along the back of the couch, eyes watching her like she was a stranger you wanted to learn. Your warm skin was touching hers, and she suddenly felt dizzy. 

“You always spill your guts at traffic lights?” you asked.

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Only for you.”

Now, the bottle was almost gone. It sat on the table, the last inch settling thick and dark in the bottom. The glasses had stopped being topped off—just sipped slower, stretched thinner, like time itself had started running out with it.

You were curled into Ellie on the couch, legs draped over hers. The mood had dipped quieter for a while, but something in the silence had started to change.

She could feel it in your laugh. Looser. Drunker. In the way you played with your own ring, twisting it around and around your finger while you talked about nothing. In the way, your leg shifted just a little—closer. Seeking friction. A touch. An answer.

Ellie caught your eyes for too long on her mouth.

So, she did something about it.

Her hand, slow and warm, slid along your thigh, her fingertips just barely pressing into your skin through the soft fabric of your jeans. Her pinky lingered, teasing the edge of the rip near your knee. She didn’t look at you right away, just smiled to herself.

A shit-eating grin.

You glanced down at her hand, then back at her face. “Oh?” you said, a single eyebrow raised.

Ellie met your eyes, still grinning, still slow and unreadable. “What?”

“That’s a bold move,” you said, breathier now. Your lips curved into a grin of your own, like a dare. “You trying to be slick?”

“Is it working?”

You snorted and leaned forward until your faces were close again. “You’re lucky I’m tipsy,” you murmured.

“I’m lucky either way.”

Your mouth twitched. Then your hand was on her neck. Just like that. Your own fingers grabbing her short auburn locks like they were your own anchor, and pulling her in like it had been inevitable. And maybe it had. Your lips met in the middle—open and warm and shameless. It was messier. No hesitation.

Ellie kissed you like she’d wanted to since the moment she saw you spin in the middle of that dance floor. Like she’d waited long enough.

You straddled her on the couch, knees pressing into cushions, one hand braced against her chest, the other tangled in her hair. She groaned when you bit her bottom lip, and you grinned against her mouth, drunk on it. Drunk on her.

The couch groaned with every shift.

Ellie’s hands slid under your shirt, warm palms against warmer skin. You laughed into her neck, breath hiccupping.

“I thought you didn’t do this kind of thing,” you whispered, voice broken with breath.

“I don’t,” Ellie said, mouth chasing your jaw. “But I do you, baby.”

“Fuck,” you muttered, laughing again. But your nails dug into her shoulder like maybe she just knocked the air out of you a little.

When you pulled back, your pupils were blown wide, lips swollen, glitter smudged across your cheekbone like war paint. You were art, and Ellie was too far gone to pretend she wasn’t starving for it.

“Bed?” you asked, voice rasped and daring. She nodded without thinking.

Your room was smaller than Ellie expected. The walls were covered in posters, torn magazine clippings, books stacked in a corner with no shelf. The sheets were half-made. The window was cracked open to the humid night, letting in a soft breeze that raised goosebumps across your arms.

You climbed onto the bed first and flopped back, limbs sprawled, breathless from laughing at something dumb Ellie said on the way down the hall. You looked up at her, all soft and dangerous, and held your hand out.

She took it.

When she leaned over you, her hair fell forward. Your fingers caught a strand and tucked it behind her ear, eyes never leaving hers.

“You’re trouble,” you whispered.

“I know,” she said. “So are you.”

Then it got quiet again. Like, even the air knew something was about to crack wide open. Her lips met yours again, and it was different now. Slower. Hungrier.

She kissed down your neck, pausing at the collar of your shirt. You nodded, and she tugged it off, tossed it somewhere behind her without looking. Her mouth followed the trail of exposed skin like it was instinct.

You arched under her, breath catching, chest pressed to hers. Her hands knew exactly where to rest. Your hips rose, legs wrapping around her waist. The contact was almost unbearable now.

“You good?” she asked, forehead resting against yours.

You nodded, panting slightly. “Just kiss me.”

So she did. She kissed you until you weren’t laughing anymore, just moaning softly, whispering her name between gasps and half-laughed curses. Your hands were under her shirt now, lifting it slowly, nails dragging across her ribs. She hissed at the contact, and you smiled, smug.

“Sensitive?”

“Shut up,” she muttered into your neck, biting just enough to make you squirm. Enough to leave a mark. 

Clothes fell away, piece by piece. The bed creaked under you. The sheets tangled. You kissed until you were both raw from it, until everything sticky and loud turned tender again—hands on hips, fingers in hair, the space between your bodies so thin it felt holy.

You whispered things. Some of them true. Some of them you’d pretend you didn’t remember in the morning. Ellie held you through all of it. Pressed kisses to your shoulder, your cheek, your sternum. Told you between sighs that you were beautiful when you called her a liar. Called you dangerous when you grinned into her mouth.

The glitter was gone by the end of it. Just sweat now, and heat. The kind of closeness that didn’t have a name but didn’t need one either.

And somewhere between a kiss and a laugh, you fell asleep with your face tucked into her neck, and Ellie stayed awake a little longer—just long enough to memorize the rhythm of your breath.

ELLIE woke up smiling.

Not the usual twitch of her mouth when a dream made her laugh. No. This smile was full. Real. A slow, stretching kind of smile that bloomed across her face like sunlight through a cracked window.

She blinked into the soft haze of your room. Bare legs tangled in thin sheets, the scent of your skin still clinging to her. Her arm reached across the bed instinctively, fingers grazing a pillow still warm on one side.

But you weren’t there.

She sat up slowly, her body sore in the best kind of way. The room was quiet, the morning light dull and golden, drifting through your thin curtains.

Then she saw you.

You were across the room, near the window, half-lit by the sun. Wearing nothing but an oversized hoodie. It swallowed you whole, the hem brushing your thighs, sleeves too long for your hands. Your makeup was smudged, the glitter from the night before a faint shimmer across your cheekbone, lips still faintly stained wine-red. Your hair was a disaster.

And you still looked like Aphrodite, dragged through war and woke up winning.

You turned when you felt her eyes on you. Your smile was quiet. Gentle. But distant in a way that made Ellie’s stomach twist.

“Hey,” you said softly.

“Hey,” she murmured back, rubbing a hand over her face. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

“Mm,” she stretched, muscles aching. “You always look like this in the morning?”

You smiled, a little sad this time. “No. Just when I’m trying to figure out how to say goodbye.”

Ellie blinked. “…What?”

You stepped toward the bed, bare feet soundless on the floor. Sat on the edge beside her. Close enough that your thigh brushed hers, but your body didn’t lean in. Your hands stayed in your lap.

“I don’t want to be confusing,” you said quietly. “Last night was real. Every second of it.”

Ellie watched you carefully, that smile fading from her lips. “Okay…”

“But this is where it ends, babe.”

She froze. You didn’t say it with cruelty. There wasn’t anything sharp in your voice. No mockery. No regret. You said it like it was just the truth. Like it had always been the plan, even if she didn’t know it.

“I don’t do the morning after,” you continued, eyes still on your fingers. You winced, still not looking at her. “I should’ve warned you.”

She didn’t know what to say. A dozen things rushed to her tongue—half of them defensive, the other half just hurt. But none of them left her mouth.

“Was it something I did?” she asked finally, voice hoarse.

You looked at her, eyes softening. “No. You were… honestly, you were better than I ever expected”

Ellie shifted on the bed, blanket falling to her waist. Her hand reached for your thigh, but she stopped just before touching you. Let it hover in the space between.

“So that’s it?” she asked. “We don’t get to see what happens next?”

You hesitated. “I don’t think you do wanna know what happens next.”

There was silence for a long beat. Then Ellie leaned back, dragging a hand through her hair, trying to mask the ache blooming in her chest. 

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath.

You stood slowly, tugging the hem of the hoodie lower. You turned your back to her, busying yourself by folding a blanket that didn’t need folding.

“You can stay a few more minutes if you want. There’s water in the kitchen. Toothbrush in the drawer.”

“Wow,” Ellie said, dry. “This the deluxe split package?”

You glanced at her over your shoulder. “Ellie.” Her name sounded like a sigh. Like maybe, you wished you were someone else too. “I don’t want to hurt you,” you said.

“Well, you’re doing a fucking stellar job anyway.”

You nodded. Took that. Accepted it. Ellie stood up, slowly, grounding herself. She pulled on her jeans, her sports bra, her shirt, all in silence. You stayed near the window, arms crossed, eyes not on her anymore. 

You still looked like a dream. Even sad. Even untouchable. And that was the worst part.

By the time she made it to the door, Ellie paused, her hand on the knob. She turned to you one last time. Then she stepped out into the hallway. The door shut behind her.

And just like that, you were gone.

IT HAD been months.

The bar hadn’t seen your laugh since that night. No glitter, no flash of thigh catching the strobe lights. Dina stopped mentioning your name after the third day. Jesse had told Ellie to move on. And eventually… she tried.

But your absence lingered in her like an unfinished chapter. Until the day Ellie took the long way home.

The engine of her bike purred through a side street, the air dry and the sun dying orange behind the horizon. She was late, hungry, pissed about her dead phone battery. She almost didn’t notice the car on the shoulder.

She slowed instinctively.

And then she saw you.

Bent slightly over the engine, hair tied up, grease on your cheek and frustration painted all over your face. Your car door was open. Music played softly from inside—Fleetwood Mac, of all things—and you were muttering to yourself like you were about to commit arson.

Ellie’s heart nearly stopped.

You turned, and your eyes met hers like the universe had planned it. She could barely get off the bike. Her legs moved before her brain caught up. You blinked, startled. And then your face did something strange—this flicker of recognition, disbelief, and then—God, something like guilt.

“Ellie,” you said softly. “Holy shit.”

She stuffed her hands in her jacket pockets. “What happened?”

“Car’s dead,” you muttered. “Won’t start. I’ve been here for over an hour.”

“Damn,” Ellie said, lips quirking. “Fate’s got jokes, huh?”

Your smile was cautious. Tired.  Silence stretched, awkward at first, but not cold.

“I can give you a ride,” Ellie offered, regretting it instantly. 

You hesitated, eyes flicking to her bike, and nodded. Ellie handed you her helmet and tried not to smile like an idiot when your fingers brushed. Dina would’ve slapped her silly, but right now, she didn’t mind. She chose to be selfish, even for a couple of minutes, if it meant she could have you.

The ride was quiet. No words between you, just the wind, her heartbeat pounding, and the pressure of your arms around her waist. You didn’t let go quickly when the engine cut off. Not even when she reached back to shut it off. Your chin lingered on her shoulder for half a second longer than it needed to. She noticed.

Her place was quiet. Dina was staying with Jesse in Jackson for the week. A blessing Ellie didn’t deserve, honestly. Inside, you stood in the entryway, glancing around like you weren’t sure if you were allowed to step deeper.

“You want a drink?” Ellie asked, already walking toward the kitchen.

“Sure,” you said. “Surprise me.”

She cracked open two beers and tossed you one. You leaned against the counter, sipped, then looked down at the bottle like it held answers. “I was kind of a bitch that night, huh?”

Ellie raised an eyebrow, taking a long sip. “Mean as fuck.”

You laughed, and Ellie couldn’t help but smile.

“God,” you muttered, brushing hair behind your ear. “I thought about apologizing like... five hundred times.”

“You should’ve,” she said easily. “I looked hot as hell, heartbroken.”

“Jesus,” you muttered, laughing again. “You’re still such a smug little shit.”

“And you’re still unreal,” she said, stepping closer.

You didn’t move back.

“I hadn’t stopped thinking about you,” you whispered, suddenly serious. “The way you tasted. The way you looked at me.”

Ellie’s fingers brushed the hem of your top. “Still looking.”

You inhaled, as your lips crashed against hers—hungry, messy, no time for permission.

Ellie dropped the beer bottle onto the counter without looking and pulled you in hard, teeth dragging on your bottom lip as you gasped into her mouth. Your hands found her jaw, her shoulders, then her waist, like you were starving for a map and she was the terrain.

You stumbled backward, slamming into the couch, never breaking the kiss. Ellie’s hand was already under your top, fingers grazing your bare waist, pulling you onto her lap. You moaned against her mouth, grinding down hard, and she hissed between her teeth.

“I swear to God,” she muttered against your throat, lips brushing your skin, “if you disappear again, I’m suing you.”

You bit your lip, breathless, already half-undone. “No chance,” you panted. “Not letting you go twice.”

That wrecked her.

Ellie shoved the coffee table aside with one foot, her other hand gripping the back of your neck as she kissed you harder. You were already rocking against her thigh, sweat sticking your clothes to your skin, and every touch between you was fast, greedy, heated like the heater behind the couch that buzzed faintly against the cold walls.

“You’re so fucking hot,” she whispered, lips at your ear. “You always were. Thought about this every fucking night.”

You whimpered—actually whimpered—and Ellie nearly lost it.

Her hand was between your legs before you realized what was happening, teasing you through your jeans, making you squirm. You yanked at her shirt, her hair, anything to get more skin.

“Say it again,” she whispered, tongue against your jaw. “Tell me you missed me.”

“I fucking missed you,” you breathed, hips rolling helplessly. “Missed your mouth—missed your hands—missed you.”

“Yeah?” she grinned, cocky and wrecked. “Still taste like heaven?” You nodded frantically. “Prove it,” she said, dragging your hand to her chest.

And then it was just mouths and breath and sweat and denim and sighs and heat, heat, heat—until neither of you could speak. Until your fingers were tangled in her hair and her hands were under your clothes and the only sounds were the heater clicking, the couch creaking, and the gasps you made in her ear.

You stayed there for what felt like hours. Limbs tangled. Hearts pounding. No wine this time. No morning after to fear. Just you and her and a chance neither of you expected—but weren’t about to waste again.

THE COUCH cushion was warm under her back, your body draped half across her chest. Your breath was soft now—finally—even if your heart still beat against her ribs like it didn’t know the night was over yet.

The room smelled like sweat and skin and something sweeter. Maybe you. Maybe just relief.

Ellie stared up at the ceiling, one hand resting on your bare back, slowly tracing invisible lines. She felt like she’d run a marathon without moving. Her legs were jelly. Her mouth was wrecked. Her hoodie was probably lost under the coffee table, and your jeans were hanging off the side of the couch like they’d been in a fight and lost.

You were quiet. Still. And she was scared to break it. Then you spoke—barely above a whisper. “I thought about that night way more than I should’ve.”

Ellie’s fingers paused on your spine. She turned her head slightly, looking down at you.

Your face was buried in the curve of her neck, lips ghosting her skin.

“I felt so much that night, I panicked,” you continued. “Like, I walked out before it could ruin me.”

Ellie didn’t say anything yet. Just waited. Let you spill it.

You pulled back slowly, sitting up on your elbow, the blanket clinging to your bare skin.  “I didn’t think you’d look at me the same if you knew how messy I really was,” you said, voice trembling slightly. “If you knew how easy it is for me to fall apart.”

Ellie sat up, hand sliding up your arm, fingers curling at your shoulder.

Your throat bobbed. You looked away. “I’m still scared,” you said. “Like… this could be nothing. Or it could be everything. And I don’t trust myself to know the difference.”

Ellie leaned in, forehead brushing yours.

“It doesn’t have to be, either,” she murmured. “It can just be right now.”

You let out a shaky breath, and that’s when Ellie saw it—your eyes glimmering, raw and red-rimmed, not from sex or sweat or makeup, but from vulnerability. From trust.

“I haven’t let someone stay in years,” you admitted, voice small. “And I usually leave before they wake up.”

Ellie pressed a kiss to the side of your jaw.

“Stay this time,” she whispered. “Let me make you breakfast like a loser tomorrow.”

You laughed into her collarbone. “Like pancakes?”

“Like whatever the hell is in the fridge that isn’t expired.”

Another breath. This one easier. Deeper. Your body softened against hers again, forehead resting on her shoulder now. She curled her arm around your back, thumb grazing slow, sleepy circles.

The heater buzzed softly. And then your voice came again, almost a murmur. “I’m not going anywhere. Not this time.”

Ellie closed her eyes. Let the words settle into her chest like warmth, like truth.

You weren’t glittering under club lights anymore. You weren’t laughing in the center of a crowd. You were naked, quiet, curled into her side, and letting her hold the parts of you that no one else got to touch.

And somehow, this was even more intoxicating than the first night. Then your lips found hers, slower this time. Lazy. Soft. Her hand slid under your thigh again, more tender now, more reverent than teasing.

You sighed into her mouth like you could stay like this forever.

And maybe this time, you would.

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

[the-record]

🎉

ᯓ ONE SIMPLE FAVOUR (SMAU)

SERIES MASTERLIST.

𓂃⋆.˚ butch!bluecollar!ellie. x femme!reader.

SYNOPSIS: your new place is a bit of a “fixer-upper” to say the least.. a series of unfortunate events have so far lead you to a broken window, some rickety floor boards, and worst of all, a mutual friend who you cant take your eyes off of. the rising temperatures of the summer make it damn near impossible to keep yourself cold, and dry.

A\N: hi lovelies! im so excited to be putting out work again, and i really hope you feel the same :)) please be patient as i am just getting back into the groove of this place. and as always, comments, critiques, and reblogs are GRANDLY appreciated <3 izzie.

graphic designed by me & banners in used are here!

CHAPTER INDEX & OTHERS

A VERY FLIMSY HOUSE

1-800 BUTCH!

series taglist:

perm taglist:

wanna be added to the taglist?? shoot me an inbox or comment below ! thank you for your support.

[the-record]

HAPPY 🌎 DAY

and a not friendly very serious reminder to stop fucking using ai irresponsibly. its killing the planet and it doesn’t belong in art.

[the-record]

go read NEOW

— This is about bio, right?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ You just needed a tutor. You didn’t expect Abby Anderson. loser of the year to get under your skin.~

[content warnings:] mean girl R! x loser-ish!Tutor abby, toxic ex! Ellie. Bad flirting, suggestive, ?? to lovers. unserious.

*‧₊˚ A/n: smau bc we hit 900! Yay!

One : help wanted

Two : Die! Please! Soon!

Three : do you even lift, bro?

Four: party plans

Five: weird energy

Six : read receipts

Seven : do not disturb

Eight: plead the fifth

Nine: almost

Ten: I have feelings, bitch! (We knew that already)

Final- eleven: same time next year?

Bonus: pics!

[the-record]

MORE MORE MORE!!! this is so cute cannot wait fpr tue next part fuck

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

soccer player!ellie x cheerleader!reader

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

series masterlist

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

taglist !

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

[the-record]

its been HAUNTINF my drafts for ages now 😭😭

ANKLES.

SUMMARY: ellie's sweet and kind, and never pushes. or in other words, she plays the long game!

PAIRING: modern!ellie williams x reader

A/N: i started this like a little while ago now and then fell off yet again cause im me and life ks always kicking my ass, please enjoy my shitty un-edited writing 💋💋 ily

my masterlist

‘ PULL ME BY THE ANKLES TO THE EDGE OF THE BED

AND TAKE ME LIKE YOU DO IN YOUR DREAMS ’

friday nights, you often found yourself at a party, always alongside ellie, dina pulling everyone through the crowded door. you’d all get drunk or high, dance and sing before leading the green eyed girl into a secluded area to talk.

you’d giggle softly as she tells you about her co-workers or tells a dad joke from that book in her back pocket.

“i walked into my sister’s room and tripped on a bra. it was a booby-trap.”

she’d sound like an idiot for the rest of her life if she could hear your laugh forever. ellie pulls out every joke, every move she has in her arsenal.

she does it again and again, every friday in someone elses closet, or guest bath, until she finally gets you in her lap. giggling like schoolchildren, who are high as kites, kissing and making jokes between pecks to hear the sweetest sounds.

ellie doesn’t push, never forces, she’d play the long game till her deathbed truly. you lead and she follows, never overstepping boundaries and waiting, and waiting, and waiting.

“els, i really like you.” she nods in agreement. “but, i’m just scared of messing everything up. our friendship, our friend group, you.”

ellie shakes her head and squeezes her hands tight on your hips. “you couldn’t babe.” she smiles as you play with the loose hair framing her face. “we can just take it slow. got all the time in the world.” which seems to satisfy you.

until a party is hosted at her and dina’s shared place. she couldn’t care less about the rest of the “guests”, as dina calls them, forgoing her hostess responsibilities to be with you.

she’s standing with you in the living room, her arms are snaked around your waist, your back pulled as tight as possible to her chest. she talks to you, telling you how she only ever goes to these parties for you. whispering sweet nothings and whatever she can pull out of her ass to see you smile. when you push against her arms, she’s hesitant to let go but feels better when you face her and wrap your arms around her neck.

“i want this,” its so loud ellie thinks she might have imagined it. “i want you, i want to go on dates and see you in the mornings and all the corny ass couple things.” she can see the hint of fear in your eyes as you say this.

and when you think she couldn’t possibly get any closer, her arms tighten around your waist. “been waiting to hear you say that for so goddamn long.”

ellie does it all on your terms, she lets you take your time. she’s sweet and gentle, opposite of her typical gruff self, a personality she picked up from joel.

“hey babe,” she lets herself in your apartment, quickly pulling off her shoes before stepping off the mat. she finds you peeking from the couch, a small smile gracing your features. her lips find yours, swallowing the small hum you make in reply. “tea?”

you pull her back down, hands in her hair. “yes please.” you peck her a few times before letting her go. you don’t take your eyes off of ellie though, you watch as she goes through the motions she’s memorized.

fill the kettle, wait for it to boil, hang up coat while you wait. pull down mugs and tea, still waiting. check the fridge, make a dinner plan. bags in the mugs, followed by the boiling water. let it sit while you kiss angel. milk and sugar to taste, et voila.

the suns only just risen with you both, not quite at its highest. you cuddle under a blanket while ellie brings over tea and the daily newspaper, that you still had delivered of course. it was a normal weekend routine you’d grown accustomed to, silly and unique but yours.

“music genre with roots in swing?” ellie asks we she walks to the couch. “five letters.” you take the tea from her hands, warming up your own with the hot mug. ellie gets comfortable beside you, tucking her legs under yours and placing the crossword in the middle of you. “who knows this shit, my god.”

you giggle softly into the tea, scanning the clues for one you might know. “two down, ever after.” you say pointing at the square. ellie writes it in, pencil of course. “oh and twenty-four across is sara, no h.”

“how do you know these?” she wonders as she fills in the squares. “like seriously never would’ve recognized either of those.”

your apartment is filled with your soft conversation, the sound of pencil on paper, your laughter over and over. “bebop? sounds like a comic book character honestly.” she says while tossing the paper on the coffee table, alongside your now long empty mugs. “so, what’s on the agenda for today?” you shrug, playing with that damn strand she still cant seem to tuck back. “movie? or is there any museums we haven’t visited yet? oh, what abo-” you cut her off with a kiss, sweet and yet still clears her head.

“can we stay in?” ellie doesn’t think she’s ever nodded faster in her life, and again her favorite sound rings. “and, on the off chance of sounding stupid.” you mess with her hands, fingers clad with rings and chipped nail polish. “i thought, maybe we could move in together?”

ellie’s silent, you worry you shouldn’t have even brought it up. every possible response she could have are loud in the silence. you’re about to take it back when she finally speaks up, “are you serious? and sure? i don’t want to rush you.” and oh only ellie could be worried about your feelings after being asked to move in.

you don’t know how you managed to get so lucky. the off-putting, sarcastic, often unbearable, girl being the sweetest and gentlest love you could ever dream of. she doesn’t push or shove you to move faster, doesn’t forget about calling you back for days. she makes tea and watches as your cookies bake. ellie sounds like an idiot almost all of the time she’s with you, to make you smile and laugh.

“i wouldn’t ask if i wasn’t, i promise.” you find ellie’s hand blindly, eyes locked on her face. you sigh, “i just think that you’re over here most nights anyways, so why not just make it official.”

“is that my shirt?” ellie’s arms wrap around you from behind, her face finding solace in your neck as you make breakfast.

you smile, letting your free hand find its way to her scalp, softly scratching. “i need to do laundry,” you answered. “just needed something to wear while i did it.”

ellie groans, “don’t ever do laundry again.” she smiles as she feels you laugh, the sound vibrating onto her face.

she places a last kiss on your shoulder before moving around the kitchen herself, pouring coffee for her and finishing your tea. she helps you set up plates at the table, quickly snatching the paper from the console table by the door before settling in the chair beside you. a wandering hand finds your thigh, absentmindedly massaging as she reads aloud, stopping every so often to take a sip of her coffee.

you're leaning into her, plates long forgotten as you giggle over her comments on the news. her hand has traveled to the inside of your thigh and traces stars over it as she gazes at you laughing. "will you stop looking at me like that?" you ask suddenly.

"like what?"

your hand finds hers, copying her tracing movements on the back of her hand. "like you want to get in my pants." ellie snorts, flipping over her hand to interlace your fingers.

"and what if i do?" she teases.

you sigh dramatically. "well shit then, do something about it."

you giggle all the way to the bed.

[the-record]

Shouldn’t vi also be called an actress? She’s not a man? Yall r so weird to lesbians omfg

hi, right. let me preface this by saying, I personally, i am a non-binary lesbian ! a lot of lesbians i know, esp butches and mascs, prefer masculine terms. it’s not uncommon to see them prefer boyfriend to girlfriend, or even pronouns being he/him or they/them. a lot of it is based in their comfort, but also its historically know many butch/masc lesbians used masculine terms for themselves to pass as men in homophobic spaces. for me this is lit just a personal thing and had i known itd upset someone truly i wouldnt have made it actor vs actress, and i honestly might just go in and edit it atp, i dont want to cause any further upset!

[the-record]

I just read your "15 minutes" fic with caitvi x reader. Love it

But i want to ask why was it actress!reader and actor!vi ? Why not both actresses ? Aren't they both women ?

hi! thank u so much

yes! but with that being said, a lot of queer people fall on spectrums w their genders, especially masc/butch lesbians! personally i know many who prefer masculine terms for different labels (actor, boyfriend, or even non-gendered etc.) but honestly you are not the only person to raise concern and i dont want to offend anyone so lowk might change it!

[the-record]

ANKLES.

SUMMARY: ellie's sweet and kind, and never pushes. or in other words, she plays the long game!

PAIRING: modern!ellie williams x reader

A/N: i started this like a little while ago now and then fell off yet again cause im me and life ks always kicking my ass, please enjoy my shitty un-edited writing 💋💋 ily

my masterlist

‘ PULL ME BY THE ANKLES TO THE EDGE OF THE BED

AND TAKE ME LIKE YOU DO IN YOUR DREAMS ’

friday nights, you often found yourself at a party, always alongside ellie, dina pulling everyone through the crowded door. you’d all get drunk or high, dance and sing before leading the green eyed girl into a secluded area to talk.

you’d giggle softly as she tells you about her co-workers or tells a dad joke from that book in her back pocket.

“i walked into my sister’s room and tripped on a bra. it was a booby-trap.”

she’d sound like an idiot for the rest of her life if she could hear your laugh forever. ellie pulls out every joke, every move she has in her arsenal.

she does it again and again, every friday in someone elses closet, or guest bath, until she finally gets you in her lap. giggling like schoolchildren, who are high as kites, kissing and making jokes between pecks to hear the sweetest sounds.

ellie doesn’t push, never forces, she’d play the long game till her deathbed truly. you lead and she follows, never overstepping boundaries and waiting, and waiting, and waiting.

“els, i really like you.” she nods in agreement. “but, i’m just scared of messing everything up. our friendship, our friend group, you.”

ellie shakes her head and squeezes her hands tight on your hips. “you couldn’t babe.” she smiles as you play with the loose hair framing her face. “we can just take it slow. got all the time in the world.” which seems to satisfy you.

until a party is hosted at her and dina’s shared place. she couldn’t care less about the rest of the “guests”, as dina calls them, forgoing her hostess responsibilities to be with you.

she’s standing with you in the living room, her arms are snaked around your waist, your back pulled as tight as possible to her chest. she talks to you, telling you how she only ever goes to these parties for you. whispering sweet nothings and whatever she can pull out of her ass to see you smile. when you push against her arms, she’s hesitant to let go but feels better when you face her and wrap your arms around her neck.

“i want this,” its so loud ellie thinks she might have imagined it. “i want you, i want to go on dates and see you in the mornings and all the corny ass couple things.” she can see the hint of fear in your eyes as you say this.

and when you think she couldn’t possibly get any closer, her arms tighten around your waist. “been waiting to hear you say that for so goddamn long.”

ellie does it all on your terms, she lets you take your time. she’s sweet and gentle, opposite of her typical gruff self, a personality she picked up from joel.

“hey babe,” she lets herself in your apartment, quickly pulling off her shoes before stepping off the mat. she finds you peeking from the couch, a small smile gracing your features. her lips find yours, swallowing the small hum you make in reply. “tea?”

you pull her back down, hands in her hair. “yes please.” you peck her a few times before letting her go. you don’t take your eyes off of ellie though, you watch as she goes through the motions she’s memorized.

fill the kettle, wait for it to boil, hang up coat while you wait. pull down mugs and tea, still waiting. check the fridge, make a dinner plan. bags in the mugs, followed by the boiling water. let it sit while you kiss angel. milk and sugar to taste, et voila.

the suns only just risen with you both, not quite at its highest. you cuddle under a blanket while ellie brings over tea and the daily newspaper, that you still had delivered of course. it was a normal weekend routine you’d grown accustomed to, silly and unique but yours.

“music genre with roots in swing?” ellie asks we she walks to the couch. “five letters.” you take the tea from her hands, warming up your own with the hot mug. ellie gets comfortable beside you, tucking her legs under yours and placing the crossword in the middle of you. “who knows this shit, my god.”

you giggle softly into the tea, scanning the clues for one you might know. “two down, ever after.” you say pointing at the square. ellie writes it in, pencil of course. “oh and twenty-four across is sara, no h.”

“how do you know these?” she wonders as she fills in the squares. “like seriously never would’ve recognized either of those.”

your apartment is filled with your soft conversation, the sound of pencil on paper, your laughter over and over. “bebop? sounds like a comic book character honestly.” she says while tossing the paper on the coffee table, alongside your now long empty mugs. “so, what’s on the agenda for today?” you shrug, playing with that damn strand she still cant seem to tuck back. “movie? or is there any museums we haven’t visited yet? oh, what abo-” you cut her off with a kiss, sweet and yet still clears her head.

“can we stay in?” ellie doesn’t think she’s ever nodded faster in her life, and again her favorite sound rings. “and, on the off chance of sounding stupid.” you mess with her hands, fingers clad with rings and chipped nail polish. “i thought, maybe we could move in together?”

ellie’s silent, you worry you shouldn’t have even brought it up. every possible response she could have are loud in the silence. you’re about to take it back when she finally speaks up, “are you serious? and sure? i don’t want to rush you.” and oh only ellie could be worried about your feelings after being asked to move in.

you don’t know how you managed to get so lucky. the off-putting, sarcastic, often unbearable, girl being the sweetest and gentlest love you could ever dream of. she doesn’t push or shove you to move faster, doesn’t forget about calling you back for days. she makes tea and watches as your cookies bake. ellie sounds like an idiot almost all of the time she’s with you, to make you smile and laugh.

“i wouldn’t ask if i wasn’t, i promise.” you find ellie’s hand blindly, eyes locked on her face. you sigh, “i just think that you’re over here most nights anyways, so why not just make it official.”

“is that my shirt?” ellie’s arms wrap around you from behind, her face finding solace in your neck as you make breakfast.

you smile, letting your free hand find its way to her scalp, softly scratching. “i need to do laundry,” you answered. “just needed something to wear while i did it.”

ellie groans, “don’t ever do laundry again.” she smiles as she feels you laugh, the sound vibrating onto her face.

she places a last kiss on your shoulder before moving around the kitchen herself, pouring coffee for her and finishing your tea. she helps you set up plates at the table, quickly snatching the paper from the console table by the door before settling in the chair beside you. a wandering hand finds your thigh, absentmindedly massaging as she reads aloud, stopping every so often to take a sip of her coffee.

you're leaning into her, plates long forgotten as you giggle over her comments on the news. her hand has traveled to the inside of your thigh and traces stars over it as she gazes at you laughing. "will you stop looking at me like that?" you ask suddenly.

"like what?"

your hand finds hers, copying her tracing movements on the back of her hand. "like you want to get in my pants." ellie snorts, flipping over her hand to interlace your fingers.

"and what if i do?" she teases.

you sigh dramatically. "well shit then, do something about it."

you giggle all the way to the bed.

[the-record]

15 MINUTES !

SUMMARY: you and vi are up-and-coming actress and actor and caitlyn just so happens to manage the biggest pr nightmare she's ever seen

PAIRING: actress!reader x actor!vi x manager!cait

A/N: now that ive fallen off 12 times, lets go again! no idea where im going w this but im excited - caitvi x reader cause i give the people what they want 🙂‍↕️

[the-record]

oh im sat!

bed chem, part i

streamer!ellie x influencer!reader

modern smau. you and ellie are polar opposites in every way possible. maybe that's why you seem so drawn to each other.

series masterlist

taglist !

@kaykeryyy @eriiwaii @firefly-ace @twopeoplee @usuck @vahnilla @liasxeatt @mascspleasegetmepregnant @autisticintr0vert @iheartclairo66 @lovely-wisteria @liztreez

[the-record]

oh im obsessed

saw someone saying they wanted farm ellie to manhandle them… fic request??

𑁍𝐟𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 / 𝐟𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𑁍

Ellie was the talk of the town, though that didn't mean much in a settlement of a mere 500. Though many people wore flimsy tank-tops and boots covered in a work day's mud, most were men. Ellie knew what the older folks had to say about her, and yet she still found it in herself to park her 70's Ford Ranger, her pride and beauty, outside of your father's farmhouse before starting a long day of shoveling, handling, herding, and operating.

Today, you sit on the top step of your cream-white wooden porch. You lean your head against the railing, observing Ellie at work.

There she is as always, in a thin tank top that clings to her when the sun beats down on the field. Half of her hair is tied back into a messy bun, and her bangs nearly cling to her forehead. She occasionally fans herself with her shirt, making you swoon in the process. One sight that catches your eye, however, is the shine of her belt buckle. The base is a solid black oval with gold flower embellishments prodding throughout. However, in the middle lay an amber moth. You've always wondered why she likes that specific buckle so much, and it intrigues you (plus, you like eyeing up her waist).

You watch from a distance as Ellie looks up at the sky, probably in her own thoughts or wishing for some summertime thunderstorms. However, you can't look away before Ellie catches your gaze. Her eyes make your cheeks burn, the skin already hot from the July heat. It isn't the first time she has caught you staring, and it certainly won't be the last.

You rise from the porch and approach her, giving a sheepish but rather sweet smile.

Ellie huffs out a laugh as you wave, and hunches down to set the small square bale down. "This yer new ritual now, miss? You gonna lure me into that house of yours for sweet-tea like yesterday?" She teases, voice thick and sweet like honey straight from the comb.

"C'mon! You've been working for like, five hours. You can handle a ten minute break, can't you?" You know you sound pathetically hopeful, but your crush on Ellie makes it difficult for you to filter your words. Her lack of complaints don't help, either.

"You know I can't do this everyday, as much as I enjoy our tea parties. Now, head on inside. Your father would be pissed if I let you sun burn. That sundress ain't protectin' you." Ellie points out, and butterflies flutter in your stomach. So she did notice the dress.

"What if I wanna stay out here with you?" You question, a soft, rising lilt in your voice in hopes it'll soften her like butter.

"Miss, please. I have to finish up with these hay bales." She reiterates, though it is currently taking everything in Ellie not to indulge in your request.

"Well fine, then. But I'm not leavin'. You'll have to drag me back into that house." You state firmly, crossing your arms.

Ellie's brows rise, and she scoffs softly. "Drag you in, huh? This is your last chance."

You only offer up a cheeky smile, feet planted on the ground. Please pick me up, please take the bait, please, please, please-

Just five seconds later, you feel a strong hand hook under the back of your legs and lift you with ease. You let out surprised laughter, Ellie not holding back from her own snort, and Ellie hauls you over her shoulder like a bag of scratch as she walks through the grassy fields and into the farmhouse.

"You're strong, jeez! I didn't know someone standing at a simple 5'5" could throw me around like this." You tease.

Though you can't see it, Ellie glares and flicks the back of your thigh with her fingertip. You don't complain any further, happy with yourself.

Ellie carefully sets you down on the couch and you tug on her hand before she can walk away. "You can't just bring me in here and not have tea."

And with the way she sighs, defeated but amused, you know you're going to get your way.

taglist: @kaykeryyy

[the-record]

dying my hair again!!!!!

[the-record]

HYPTHETICALLY

if i were to do an acting smau…w actress reader actor vi and manager cait…….

[the-record]

just dyed my hair purple, so it feels like an apt time to say that i thought caits hair was purple at first and not navy 😞

[the-record]

longest year of my life and its not even february please put me out of my misery

[the-record]

🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

i know this might be controversial, but enough is enough.

as someone who grew up in the rigidity—and, at times, oppressive nature—of roman catholicism, i am so tired of the religious!reader trope where they’re portrayed as so innocent they’re practically a child. we were not innocent. we knew the names of our bodies, the weight of shame, and the crushing complexity of guilt. i knew that my vagina was a vagina.

the sheer amount of extremely innocent!religious!reader fics is unsettling. they turn the reader into this caricature—wide-eyed, naive, almost infantilized, complete with pigtails and an oversized cross necklace perfect for a porn video thumbnail.

for me—and for a lot of other lesbians i’ve bonded with over religious trauma—it was never about innocence. it was about guilt. guilt over pleasure, guilt over sin, and all the ways we punished ourselves for being human.

we weren’t these overgrown children teetering around in purity. we were messy, complicated, and burdened by shame in ways that were far more nuanced than these portrayals ever capture. enough, please.