Can U Do A Drabble Or Hcs On Cuddling Ellie?

Can u do a drabble or hcs on cuddling Ellie?

Ur writing is so good I love everything U write :>

WREATHE

warnings: not much, mostly fluff, basically the rq, mdni with my account tho😏

a/n: IM SO SORRY THIS HAS BEEN IN MY INBOX FOR I KID YOU NOT LIKE HALF A YEAR IM GENUINELY SO SORRY PLEASE FORGIVE ME 😰 thank you so much for sending the rq even though i took the piss responding, also this is a drabble bc i don’t think i’d be good at doing hcs 😭 i have some shit coming up at uni so i prolly won’t put anything out for a while but i have an idea for a new fic in the drafts !!! very excited…

ramadan has started which means israel’s violence against the Palestinian people will worsen as it does every year, purely for the sake of inflicting even more psychological torture on them. please, now more than ever, pray for them if you’re religious, talk about palestine, boycott, protest, strike, donate if you can, contact the people in charge. don’t let people forget. here’s a link to some details on the situation. everybody stay safe 💗.

10:47 - you return from a strenuous day of patrol and odd jobs around Jackson. You’re slightly tipsy, a drink or two from the Tipsy Bison churning a pool of warmth within your stomach.

The place is stagnant when you push the door open, as if coming home to nobody.

Ellie must’ve gone to bed early today.

You drift to the bathroom despite the fact that the house feels apocalyptic, and sit in the gentle rush of water, scrubbing your skin weakly with aching arms.

When you enter your room, everything is still, except for the rhythmic rise and fall of Ellie’s figure beneath the covers on the bed backed against the wall.

You throw the dampened towel that is slung over your shoulder carelessly and walk over to the bed, gently settling beside her.

For a while, you feel content. Sleep is lulling you in, the room is shadowy, the bed is warm, and the sound of Ellie’s deep-sleep-breaths (totally not snores at all, she swears) are soft like TV static in the back of your mind.

Your eyes are on the verge of fluttering close for the last time tonight so you turn onto your side and nestle into the crook of your shoulder.

Then, there’s a harsh jolt and the bed shifts. You can feel Ellie’s puzzled gaze raking over you, the realisation that you’re home setting, and your lips twist into a smile subconsciously. The night rarely ends without the inebriating buzz of affection.

A quiet sigh escapes the enclosure of her blush-pink lips before she reclines into the pillows once more, eyes never leaving the still curvature of your figure. Not a moment passes and her arms encircle your waist, warmth embracing your torso and pressing against your hair like a wreathe of absolute comfort.

A barely audible mumble tickles the helix of your ear,

“Hey, babe,” accompanied by the phantom touch of her lips against your cheeks in her half-asleep state. You scrunch your nose before turning into the love she offers you.

“Hey, Els.”

You begin to mumble butterfly details about the happenings of the day as you feel the surface of her skin raise with goosebumps under the delicate tracing of your fingertips - down her bare thighs, along the round of her hip, along her stomach and under her boobs - easing airy chuckles out of her.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Hm? Nothin’…”

You can already picture the smirk on her dazed face,

“Ya sure there? You want somethin’, babe?”

A playful scoff and she’s looking at you with feigned shock against the weight of tired eyelids,

“Can’t I feel you? I just wanna be close to you,”

“I’d say we’re pretty close, ya know?”

“Never close enough,” you clarify and the rasp of her laugh fades into silence and she presses a kiss onto your head, and then another, straining her neck till she’s face to flushed and grinning face, stringing a blizzard of soft, dewy kisses across it.

“Alright, alright!”

“One more- mwah,” she smacks her lips against your scrunched up mouth aggressively, leaving a gross patch of saliva, and smiles dumbly to herself, tightening the hold of her arms around you to which you groan.

Tight against her gentle sway, she mutters a quiet confirmation,

“Never close enough,” and then runs the rough pads of her fingertips along the expanse of your skin, lingering a moment on your thighs.

It’s like the rustle of a spring breeze and it draws your eyes to a close.

As you drift further from the surface, you feel the soft tingle of Ellie’s foot nudging your ankle and the distant haze of her voice whispering,

“You sure you don’t want anything, baby?” and you’re asleep.

also, absolutely no one asked for this but here are some pictures of my fat ass cat (cutest patootie evah 😆😆):

https://x.com/strike_dr/status/1753166666521833739?t=C7ZQmKRNGVAsTRiSIX3iMA&s=09

Today 40,000 meals were dropped over Gaza Strip courtesy of the us army. You may be smiling and saying finally something but no these would have fed less than 5% of the population. And I say would have because most of these meals were expired. We dropped expired meals for less than 5% of the people who are being starved death. This is no longer just funding this genocide this is actively particpating. Also please do not forget the flour massacre hundreds of people were shot trying to get flour to feed their starving families and this isn’t the first time this has happened.

FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA

PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! 🇵🇸

MASTERLIST

DON'T FORGET DAILY CLICKS AT ARAB.ORG!

DONATE IF YOU CAN

IF NOT, SHARE! PROTEST! BOYCOTT! BE A VOICE FOR PALESTINE

sometimes i feel like it’s a bad thing that i don’t rlly have many moots or feel very involved with the whole tlou tumblr community thing outside of actually writing shit every now and then, but then i log on and see all the shit going down from a distance and just nod and give a thumbs up.

never forget this feeling

you’re smothered by the deadweight of the hot duvet with your hard head pressed heavy against your numb arm, and the pools of sweat make your dense, swealtering clothes cling to your clammy, bloated flesh. the scent of cigs lingers in the air you strain to take in around you. it clings to the mattress and churns with the taste of ice cream left in your mouth. it’s sour. your nose is dry: a scratchy, uncomfortable kind of dry - feels like there’s a wire inside it - and the ends of your limbs tingle. your face has been tensed for so long now that you barely notice the constant ache, like the whirring of a shitty air con on a scalding day fading into the deafening humidity.

the screen is yellowed but it still makes your eyes ache as you scroll desperately for a petty thing to focus the flurries of thoughts on but, this time, it’s too strong. it’s nauseating and uncomfortable and could make you cry, but not right now - you’re all tense, and you can’t quite pin down the reason: where did you begin to mimic it, in spite of the fact that those bulging white scars still sully the smooth skin of your shoulders? you felt the pain of being victim to it, but it’s there, inside you. tonight, you’re looking it straight in the eye. mother is so small as she sniffs and hiccups like a bruised little kid, crouched outside the room, not meeting your confused, teary gaze when you look down at her. why do you hurt the people you love? why do your words burst out of the gaps between the razor blade fangs you bear? why is everything so sharp, angular, tense, eggshells, snap, bite, red furrowed brows, drawn knives, tearing off all the petals? why do you jump to devour? where does the violence fester? when did it start to gather? you feel less and less every time you’re melted to fluid and rebuild as hardened rock - all wrong and jagged. shift your gaze to the corner and watch them dance across the ceiling: fire spiders, burning bright as they crawl towards you.