Ellie Willams X Reader - Tumblr Posts

posted too soon by accident n had to delete. :( so here is it fr! suggestive. no minors, no men. (hope this doesn’t count as stealing lmk if it is n i’ll delete?? my take/credit to original.) au ellabs x reader. should i make this a whole fic?! lmk lol <3

living with abby and ellie could just be so hard sometimes. it all started because your lease was up. dina was moving out and in with jesse, so moving in with the two seemed like the most logical option. and, well, it hasn’t been going exactly how you thought it would.

while bickering between abby and ellie was the normal, it seems to pick up when they’re around you. they argue each time about who will bring in your groceries after you’re back from each trip even though you’ve never asked for help. they argue about who will cuddle with you during your shared movie nights. they silently argue about holding your hand while you’re all out together; they always want you to be seen as just theirs.

they also definitely play to your naiveness about how they act towards you. they’re always trying to one up each other in a show of dominance towards you. both girls just want you, their sweet angel, so badly. ellie will only let you smoke with her if you sit in her lap. abby has no qualms with using her stern voice if you get too distracted while she’s trying to talk to you.

if you didn’t know any better, and you don’t, you’d think they were obsessed with making you blush. tiny speckle of sauce on your face? abby will lick her thumb, remove it, and then suck it while making eye contact with you. ellie’s feeling bored? she’ll make some innuendos about fucking you until you catch on. you think it’s a joke, she doesn’t.

so yeah, living with abby and ellie wasn’t all that you’d thought it’d be. however, you still love living with your friends. dina will just snicker after the looks on their faces when you tell them you love living with them, your friends. “it’s like a long sleepover! well, besides the fact you two are always fighting over something so silly.”

I really want an Ellabs x reader fic of fem reader really needing comfort bc she's sad/overwhelmed but she tries to hide it from ellabs but obv they notice smth is off, so they tell her they noticed smth is wrong and she kinda breaks down at that, then they comfort her thru it, listening to her problems or insecurities n'stuff <33 Sorry if it's confusing and/or too long, u dont gotta do it but i'd appreciate it tons <33 (Im totally not self projecting)

ur projecting = supported. 🫢 100% sfw/comfort fic but still no men or minors. type of relationship between them is up to u! this ended up a semi- full length fic oops ? enjoy!

sometimes it just feels too hard. being the newest member in jackson means you feel like you have to prove your worth 24/7. and it’s exhausting, really. abby is just so strong, ellie has the best patrol work, and you? you feel… weak. you (falsely) feel like nothing you’ve done has proven you’re worth the space in jackson.

so when monday rolls around, you tell ellie and abby you have plans with someone else so you can just go home and hide. they don’t question that, why would they? tuesday you tell them you wanna go to bed early. okay, fine. but then it’s wednesday, and they’re starting to get that something is going on with you.

the worry starts to kick in wednesday night after maria tells the two women you asked to go home early, citing that you’re not feeling well. abby all but drags ellie to your tiny place immediately after hearing maria’s words. you always tell each other everything. so why didn’t you now?!

it’s easy to know abby and ellie are knocking at your door simply because of the sheer force of it. five minutes you try to pretend you’re not home. you don’t want them to see you in this state; you’ve been ugly crying for two hours now. however, they don’t give up. it’s not like you could expect anything else from them.

“baby, we know you’re home. let us in, yeah? we’re worried about you,” abby shouts out after another two minutes of knocking.

you respond back with a sickly voice from the sofa, “no, go away. ‘m busy.”

you can just feel the attitude enter ellie’s body now. you know how stubborn she can be. “no, we know you’re lying. i will find a way in if you don’t let us in within the next thirty seconds.”

you know she isn’t joking as you move to open the door. the sight of you upon opening the door is not a pretty one— your face is red, covered in tears. ellie takes a deep breath before she pushes in. she won’t let you shut them out anymore. abby shuts the door before them before heading you back onto the sofa with them. each other is on either side of you within the matter of seconds.

as per usual, abby is the first one to break the silence. “oh, honey, what’s going on? we could’ve helped you sooner if we knew.” the way she sounds sad just makes you feel worse.

insecurities once again bubbling over, you do the only thing you can think of: you try to shove abby away. being significantly stronger than you means it didn’t feel like a single thing. however, abby won’t put up with you lashing out right now. she knows you can be their sweet girl even in the toughest of moments.

ellie watches like a hawk as abby grabs both of your wrists to stop you from trying to push her away again. “just because you’re upset doesn’t mean you can act out. are you going to be the big girl i know you are now? or do i need to keep you here?”

the concerned sternness of her voice makes you whimper in reply. fresh tears leak down your face as you try to find the words to explain. “i- i just don’t think i deserve to be here! everyone, especially you two, carry your weight around here! and what do i do? i’m just a stupid girl working in the bar!”

and, well, neither of them could say they were expecting that response. sure, you were newer to Jackson, but so was everyone at one point. you were also one of the most popular Jackson residents— everyone loves the energy you bring to the bar after a long day of work. so it just makes sense that both women are beyond shocked to realize that this is why you’re so down. how could you not know how loved you are here?

as yet another round of tears starts to fall, you feel abby’s big arms quickly pull you into her chest. your body starts to shake with each inhale as you start to sob into abby’s chest. while ellie rushes to rub your back, abby starts to tilt your head up so you can see her.

“angel, angel, no. let’s take some deep breathes and then we’ll all have a talk, okay?”, abby coos as she wipes away the falling tears.

ellie puts your right hand over abby’s heart when your breathing doesn’t start to slow any. she speaks in the softest voice she can muster up,“deep breaths with me and abby, baby. feel abby’s heart beat. we’re all going to just relax together before anything else.”

two minutes between your favorite people is all it takes to reduce you to just sniffles. you slouch back into your seat once you’ve finally caught your breath. you look up at abby and ellie with wet eyes before letting out a long sigh. no one is sure who should speak first.

ellie decides she’ll be the one to start, “it’s not true, you know? everyone here loves you. helping run the bar is important. you create a space where we can all relax for once. emphasis on the relax part.”

abby grunts in agreement with ellie. “you know ellie’s right, don’t you baby,” abby questions before looking over to ellie, “our favorite girl’s always making everyone feel happy, isn’t she?”

“for real though, you really do play a big part here. you know ellie and i started arguing less when you came around? pretty big deal there, you know. even joel commented on it,” the dirty blonde continues on the conversation.

and that makes you giggle for the first time all day. “even joel? really?” while you knew they had a previous history of more frequent fights, you didn’t know even joel was over it back then too.

“yeah, it’s really true,” abby starts before taking a breath to think about her next words. she exhales, “strength isn’t everything, you know? you add just as much as we do here. creating a space where people can relax while we live on this hell on earth is just as important as what we do. we all do the best here because we are better with each other. our system can’t function without others.”

you’re sure you’d be crying tears of happiness right now if you weren’t so exhausted from all your previous crying. your previous anxieties start to slip away as you start to truly internalize both of their words from today. you are important. you matter here. just like everyone else.

no one is given a chance to speak before you’re pulling ellie and yourself on top of abby. “i love you, i love you, i love you both,” you whisper out. “you’re right. i promise i’ll come talk to you next time i’m feeling down, okay? know you’ll make me say that part next!”

“okay smarty pants, you better. also, we always are, darling. love you the most,” teases ellie before she presses a kiss to the back of your head.

“hey! what if i love you both the most? then what?” you’re sure you can feel ellie roll her eyes as abby whines out playfully.

“okay, okay. how about we all love each other the most? can we just agree so i can drink some water now? my head is killing me.” a major post-crying headache has just started to come on for you.

ellie rolls her eyes playful at both of you. “i’ll get us all some water”, she commands as she walks to your kitchen, “and get comfy with abby. we’ll watch a movie, and yes, you can choose today.”

yay! end note to say ur important and i’m glad ur here + love that we all each add our own special things to this earth 🫂

does anyone wanna be tagged in my dom!ellie williams fic that’s coming out today-ish? reply or like if yes <3 (if ur an ageless blog or minor it’s not happening)

SUCK IT— ELLIE WILLAIMS

you want a kiss, but ellie wants something first. cw: strap on sucking (ellie receiving), mean dom!ellie, bratty!r, r!receiving, light degradation. established relationship. u decide if au or not :) MINORS & MEN DNI. (long-ish tbh ! adding word count soon!) enjoy!! xoxoxoxo <3

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱──────────

ellie is beyond fed up with the attitude you’ve had all day. it seems like anyone and anything is setting you off, and she’s at the receiving end of it. she’s lost count of how many times she’s told you to stop rolling your eyes today after the seventh time.

you both know you can’t disagree with what’s about to happen— you know ellie doesn’t tolerate a bratty attitude ever. in hopes she’ll somehow be lenient with you, you look at her through thick lashes from your current position on the floor. a nervous whimper almost escapes your lips as you watch her ignore your attempts. you now accept that there won’t be any leniency tonight after all stunts you’ve pulled today.

“e-ellie?” you whine out, craving her warmth again. you hate when she doesn’t give you attention, and she knows that.

ellie hums, shamelessly eyeing your naked figure. she watches you squirm for a few more seconds for her pure enjoyment. while she’s acting nonchalant, she’s feeling anything but inside. she needs to scratch the itch that is punishing you, but your girlfriend knows to play the long game by now.

“already whining, huh? That’s kinda pathetic. Don’t you think so, baby?” she teases you, making you whine more.

you speak before even thinking about the words that leave your lips. “no! i’m not pathetic.”

ellie’s face visibly drops at that. you know you’re truly in for it now. you have the audacity to talk back? ellie can have what you’ll think is the audacity to make you work even harder for her forgiveness now. after all, she’s always shown you she can play meaner than you.

“oh, is that so,” she asks as she raises an eyebrow before continuing, “guess i’ll just have to to make you listen. get on your knees properly. now!”

you scramble to follow her orders as you watch intently watch to see what her next move is. to your surprise, you see the strap bounce as she pulls down her pants and boxers in one movement. your previous assumption that that’s what she went to get while you stripped down is correct.

ellie starts up again, her condescending tone immediately shining through. “i can see you practically drooling, baby. now, here’s what is going to happen-“

you interrupt her, feeling an even stronger craving for her warm affection now. “e-ellie? kiss? please? ‘m really sorry.”

“you’re sorry, huh?” she lets your interruption slide.

you frantically nod. “yes, really, really sorry! pretty please els, i want a kiss.” a permanent pout seemingly etches upon your lips.

you think she’s going to give in as she leans in closer, but she doesn’t. she roughly grabs your chin instead, forcing you to make eye contact with her. her rough grip on you has your lips puckering, almost seemingly to tease you.

“you’re going to have to work for that kiss. time to let me use that mouth of yours for something more useful than mouthing off. you’ll get your kiss later, but only if you can be a good girl for me first.”

knowing it’s pointless to argue, you lean in to give the tip of her strap a kiss. you pause before you wrap your lips around the tip, giving it an experimental suck. ellie’s always told you she swears she can feel it as if it’s attached to her body. she even swears it could probably make her come, in which you always call her a loser after.

a soft gag can be heard as ellie pushes your head down on her plastic cock. your girlfriend doesn’t think she has to play nice with you after all your attitude from today. she also maybe not-so-secretly loves to watch the tears fall from your eyes as she moves your head up and down.

ellie feels absolutely ruined as she watches your mouth take her. god, how she wishes she could feel you like this. she does the second best thing she can think: she moves the strap lower so it’ll rub her clit as you suck her off.

the guttural moan you let out when you catch onto her makes the strap vibrate— ellie thinks she could come on the spot. she carelessly chases that feeling, making you gag, which makes her more frantic in return. ellie loves when you just let her use you now she wants to.

“fuck, baby. you don’t know how crazy you’re driving me right now. shit. you’re such an angel.”

a few more seconds is all it takes before ellie’s being pushed over the edge. legs trembling, she starts to see stars in her eyes. pure bliss has taken over her whole body. she continues to spout out her praises of how well you’re doing as she rides out her orgasm.

her incredulous laugh is the only sound filing the room after she manages to whisper out a “fuck”. she grabs you chin, forcing you to look up at her again. “holy shit, babe. i think you deserve your kiss now, yeah?”

the speed at which your nod makes you both dizzy. “yes! yes, please. was so, so good? right?”

giving into your pleas, ellie leans in to give you a kiss on the lips. her gentle kiss largely contracts her rough behavior that was less than two minutes ago. you can make out the faint taste of some of the cherry chapstick you gave her last week. you both melt more into the kiss.

after pulling away and wiping away the drool off of your chin, ellie groans after fulling taking in your current state. she needs to ruin you immediately. there’s no way she can spend another second without her hands on you. she knows she needs to give in now. “fuck. get on the bed.”

you don’t bother to respond. you all but fling yourself onto the bed, and into the position you know she likes. ellie always has you on your back, leaning against the pillows when she’s rewarding you. something or another about it being her turn to pleasure you.

barley giving you time to recover from just moments ago, ellie rolls your nipples around with her thumbs. your moans start to quiet down as she leans over to make out with you. your body starts feels warm in the best way possible.

starting to feel desperate again, you whine for her to do something more. “need you. please? i deserve it now. did what you said!”

“yeah, you’re right.” is the only reply ellie gives you before she starts moving down your body.

your breath catches in your throat as her fingers trail down your thighs. an excited tremble runs through your body as you watch it unfold. hands parting your legs, ellie practically whimpers at the sight of seeing your sticky cunt on display for her. she takes no time in sticking two fingers in you

the sudden intrusion makes your back arch with pleasure. you watch ellie work her fingers in and out of you through pleasure-driven hooded eyes. had your eyes been open, it’d be hard to miss the smirk plastered on ellie’s face.

ellie suddenly pulls out of you, causing you to cry out. she’s quick to soothe you. “baby, ‘m just taking my fingers out so i can slut you out on my strap. no need to worry that pretty little head.”

your giggle in response is cut short the second you start to feel ellie push into you. your hands find her back, starting to dig your nails in as she sinks all the way into you. a strangled moan leaves your lips. you feel so full. so good.

“oh. my. god.” it’s the only think you can think of to say now.

“mhm, feels good, my pretty girl, and yeah, just take it” are the only responses you get back from ellie. she’s also in her own little blissed out world with you.

wet sounds mixed with both of your incoherent moaning fill up the bedroom— you’re sure the neighbors can hear by now. but there’s no way you could you possibly care about that when your girlfriend is fucking you so hard that you’re seeing stars. every stroke makes you drip on the sheets even more.

ellie’s left thumb finds your clit as she starts to fuck you faster. your moans turn into incoherent babbling about how good you feel, thank you’s, and pleas for her to keep going. the feelings of sweet release start to wash over you like waves in the ocean. you feel as if you’re drowning with pleasure.

each thrust makes the room spin faster for you. ellie’s always felt amazing inside of you. your whole body is ignited with pleasure as you take everything ellie is giving you. you feel so close. any second now you’ll be the one cumming all over her cock.

picking up on this, ellie starts to speak normally again. “oh baby, are you gonna cum for me? gonna get my cock all wet for me, hmm? let go, baby, just let go.”

the second she tells you to let go is the second you hit peak bliss. your entire body twitches as your orgasm washes over you. ellie prolongs it by fucking you through it. she always makes you feel every last bit of your orgasm. and god, you haven’t felt this fucked out in a while now. you don’t think you’ll be walking normally for at least a day or two.

“baby?” ellie is the first to speak, like usual.

“els?”

“think you can go again? think you can handle me fucking you again?”

you know she’s feeling full of herself right now. she always does after she fucks you like this. “dunno, els. feeling very sensitive i think,” is your semi-questioning answer. you know she likes to overstimulate you.

“well that’s just too bad isn’t it? gonna have to give me another orgasm before i can forgive you for being a brat today. can’t be a brat anymore if i fuck you stupid and quiet, huh?”

your eyes snap open fully again after that. ellie’s freckled face is the closest thing in your line of vision. she’s wearing her classic look of fake sympathy on it. you’ve finally accept the fate of what’s going to be a very long night.

pouting, you question her, “can i have another kiss first at least?”

“yeah,” is the last thing ellie responds with before she crashes her lips against yours.

tag list: @cowgirlcherrie @cherriesxinthespring @ellies-princess @abbyskitty @dropsofs4turn @ellabsprincess @angelbill @cosmikoo @sosobaker @ellieismybbg

thinking about ellie whining the second her strap is in you. she’d be so pathetic about it lowkey. and oh god, she would be so nasty with the way she ate you out. begging you to cum and everything!

🇵🇸 palestine, the world roots for you.

my lovely friends, i’m sure it’s obvious that i historically have only used this app to only post + sometimes read before dipping. it is important that we keep talking about palestine. i do not want to have that mistaken as silence. we can’t fail palestine anymore. we shouldn’t still be. it free + easy to speak up. israel wants you to be silent. do not let israel silence the atrocities they commit.

mohammed smiry tweets updates frequently. i am sure you all know about bisan by now. have some money? donate an esim or to the children’s fund. ++ u can do some (free!) learning ! :)

☆ 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚊 ☆

sub!ellie x dom!reader

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚈𝚘𝚞, 𝙳𝚒𝚗𝚊, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙴𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚗𝚘𝚝-𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚘𝚗. 𝙽𝚘𝚠, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙳𝚒𝚗𝚊 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙴𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎'𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛. 𝙳𝚒𝚗𝚊'𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙹𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚘, 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎.

𝚊/𝚗: 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚢 𝚜𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝-𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 kind of shitty really bad 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝 that i absolutely despise but spent too long on to keep in the drafts 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚒 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝e𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚎𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 ♥︎

It's been dark for a few hours now, light pooling into your room from the flicker of a candle and the red lava lamp you stole from Dina's room.

She's gone again and the apartment feels hollow. Still, you're sat at your desk working as the regimented tick of your clock beats on in the background.

A shuffle and the click of a door capture your attention.

Ellie's here. As per usual.

You let out a strained puff of air and swivel your chair around to face the source of the thud that’s now aggressively rubbing her eyes and sitting at the foot of your bed.

“Ellie.”

“Hm?” she croaks out.

“You bored?”

“Hmmm…” She finally looks up from her palms with slightly blood-shot eyes and freckled skin splotched pink to meet your inquisitive gaze.

“Dina said she was gonna watch Back to the Future with me and then she ditched me for Jesse… So, now I’m left with you, the roommate.”

“The roommate, huh? I see how it is. What if I beat your ass? Then what?”

Your attempt to lighten the tired atmosphere lacks much spark, but Ellie’s bored enough to bite. Her green eyes are illuminated by the dim glow of the lava lamp as she waves you off dismissively and, for a split second, they’re flecked with the purest gold you’ve ever seen.

You play it totally cool, with your arm strung over the backrest of your chair nonchalantly, as though you didn’t just witness a scene that will be burnt onto your retinas and play late at night when you’re trying to sleep.

“Pfft, like you could fight anyone.”   

You scoff indignantly, mock offended, and stand up from your seat, leaving it spinning behind you.

“Uhhh, at least I got meat on my bones.”         

“Yeah! And absolutely none of it is muscle.”

“You askin’ me to unleash the beast, E-bone?”

God, you become the biggest dork around her… It's like you both morph into your thirteen year old selves, sitting on Ellie's disheveled bedroom floor after school and bickering about anything and everything until Joel yells up about dinner being done.

Times were simpler. Then, you got older and the buzz you felt each time your hands brushed, which was so easy to downplay, gradually became gaping - virtually impossible to ignore five years down the line. Once the door was open, there was no looking back.

Didn't help that Ellie only got hotter and hotter.

The thought of losing her over something like this makes your stomach writhe inside you though, so you keep the fantasizing to a minimum. Kind of.

The apples of her cheeks puff out rosy in an unrestrained grin, as she announces,

“Bring it, dude. I’d like to see you try,”

“I’m gonna rip your non-existent balls off,”

“Oh, I am just shaking with fear!”

“Fuck off, you little greaseball,”

“Pfft, please, that’s just my aesthetic appeal. You’re gonna have to try harder than that to insult me, bud.”

Your mind flurries with a million responses but the beckoning of your open laptop, begging for your attention before the fast approaching deadline, cuts through the buzz with ease.

Unfortunately, you can’t just ignore it this time. You’ve got less than twenty four hours to complete the soul-draining assignment, and you've spent the last few hours sighing periodically as you looked over the mediocre jargon you’d written so far instead of adding anything.

Great.

But it’s so tempting to forget about the essay completely and let go: focus all your attention onto doing dumb shit with Ellie like you usually do.

“Okay, I do not have time for this, I’ve got a whole ass essay due.”

Ellie sits up with an exaggerated groan, tugging you in by the arm.

“You always have something due!”

“Not always… And, yeah, Ellie! That’s college.”

“Dude. You’re either studying or working all the time and you barely leave this room.”

“Hey, I happen to think it’s pretty cozy in here.”

Ellie rolls her eyes before taking in the contents of the room, scanning the papers and lone items of stationery cluttering, no, invading your cramped desk space.

“Yeahhh… real ‘cozy’ in here. Do you ever clean?”

“Oh, big talk from someone who lives in a literal pig sty! I'm working so this doesn't count. Plus, it’s paper mess, not actual junk.”                 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. At least your bed’s comfortable…"

She turns her head to face you, watching your expression become slightly conflicted.

“Come on, dude, take a break from working for five minutes! Just five!”

You look back at her for a moment, at those eyes you desperately want to please even in the pettiest of situations, and sigh before sitting beside her.

“For the record, it won’t be ‘just five’, and you’re a bad influence on me.”

Ellie chuckles as the bed dips nearby with a soft creak.

“How am I a bad influence? I’m simply encouraging you to relax with me.”

The weird thing about your relationship is that, having been friends for so long, the bickering is intrinsically woven through every conversation you have, and it often leads to the kinds of petty arguments you're having now: the kind that you don't even remember the cause of.

“Uh, yeah?”

“You’re just jealous.”

“Suuuuuure-”

“Shut up, Ellie.”

“No.”

“You know what? Get out of my room.”

“Fine. Asshole.”

The kind of dumbass arguments that Joel would have to come in and alleviate without knowing the cause of either, because it was always something incredibly stupid anyway.

Joel's still back in Jackson though, while the two of you are miles away, and sulking's kinda pointless when there's no one around to see, so Ellie gets back up from her sprawled out position on the living room couch out of boredom and asks if she can come back in.

Same solution you used back when you were 12: you smirk deviously to yourself as you recall the memories before muttering,

“You can come in but you have to sit on the floor.”

Ellie scoffs, recognition evident in the unimpressed raise of her eyebrows. This pissed her off beyond measure back when you were kids, but now it weirdly brings on a sense of nostalgia, so she lets it slide, coming in and suppressing the small smile playing on her lips.

“Fine… Jackass.”

She lowers herself to the scratchy rug beneath your bed and leans against the wooden frame. She’s facing away like she used to too, always trying to avoid the embarrassment of having to look up at you. She still looks up over her shoulder at you with an exaggerated expression anyway though.

“Happy now?”

You look down at her and smirk.

“Very.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You're really enjoyin' this, aren't you?”

“Yep! You know, you’re still so easy to work up. Must be pretty uncomfortable down there, huh?”

“Shut up, asshole. I’m waaaaay more cozy down here. This carpet's amazing; you're missing out. I could fall asleep any second.”

Ellie's voice rasps as she rambles on, looking up at you with those big eyes that make you weak in the knees, and you can't resist the urge to just reach out and ruffle the auburn tufts of hair laying chaotically on her head, smirking as you mutter,

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

Ellie’s cheeks almost immediately flush. Her gaze begins to flicker away from you, no longer so unaware of the intricacies of holding eye contact.

She opens her mouth in shock, and then her eyebrow furrow quickly to cover up with a scoff,

“You are such a dick.”

“What? I didn't even do anything!”

“Dude, you do this every time and it pisses me off! You can cuss me out one minute and say you hate me and then be all corny the next?!”

“Okay, that was in the heat of the mo-”

“Yeah, right, 'in the heat of the moment.' You say shit like that every time we argue and you don't even apologize. At least be honest.”

Her expression looks earnest and it makes your heart contract a little tighter, the hot bite of guilt nipping at your insides. But something else stirs too.

You hate how attracted you are to her when she’s frustrated.

This room, with the warmth of body heat and candlelight intoxicating you and the red glow that casts over Ellie’s pretty face, makes the gaze she holds up at you so sweetly drowsier through the obscurant of her thick eyelashes, makes the swell of her bottom lip as she releases it from a harsh bite seem so much more enticing, makes you feel like your inhibitions are strapped to a ticking time bomb.

The pull is electrifying - more than magnetic, and you'd give anything to lay your skin onto hers, to feel each touch, so gentle, ignite your skin, and embrace her wholly. Consume doesn't even seem too strong a word.

“I don’t hate you, Ellie. Here, come sit."

You shift aside and pat the space next to you, watching intently as she huffs and rises to her feet before flopping down beside you.

Unbeknownst to her, all her movements are so much more sensuous now - you’re trying desperately to ignore the sliver of skin that showed as her shirt rode up her stomach when she got up, but it’s almost getting painful.

So much so that you have to physically drag your mind away from it.

“Anyway, have you had dinner yet?”

Ellie blinks a few times, caught in the crossover between the two completely separate conversations as she fumbles her way through a response,

“No, not yet. I was planning on ordering something later though. Why?”

“I’m starving.”

She chuckles and you feel the tense disposition of your muscles physically loosen.

“Oh, you’re hungry, huh? You want me to order food for you too, don't ya?”

“And you’ll do it because you’re the absolute coolest, most awesomest person in the whole entire world, right?”

She smiles softly, "Alright, alright, tell me something I don't know."

As your eyes meet, something in you clicks into place.

Your heart is thumping erratically in your chest. She’s so close; her hands are so near. You could lean in ever so slightly and your lips would meet.

For some reason, something in you is saying that it’s now or never, so the petrifying thoughts of any possible consequence arise again.

It’s realistic to be scared. That’s why you pushed down these feelings away for so long. But, in a moment of clarity, you realise your relationship is strong enough to withhold something like this, even if it would be devastating if Ellie didn’t feel the same way. You’ve known each other since you were children, your childhood homes are only a few houses away from each other, all your friends are friends, and even your parents are friends. There’s no escaping this.

Even if it doesn’t go as planned, you have to take the leap or you’ll never get over her.

“Thank you, Ellie... God, this is gonna take a really long time though, isn’t it?"

“Pfft, you’re such a baby. It’s gonna take like 30 minutes max, just chill.”

You smile, the thumping of your heart becoming supermassive. You can feel it filling your being and surrounding you completely. Then, you mutter,

“Maybe we can keep ourselves entertained in the meantime,”

and the seal is broken.

Ellie is perplexed. From where she sits on your bed, you’ve suddenly become a lot more tense, and your gaze bears into her much more sharply than she’s ever noticed before. But it makes her feel weird… in a good way, and her throat runs dry as she raises an eyebrow skeptically.

“And how do you plan on doing that, exactly?”

You shrug,

“Can I try something?”

“I’m kinda terrified but okay,” she chuckles

You hum, falling into a rhythm, the nervousness so intense that it numbs you.

“Lay back for a second.”

Ellie’s eyebrows draw together with a burning curiosity, feeling a heat rise in the pit of her stomach which seems to answer her unspoken questions.

She know what’s going to happen now, but it feels so surreal, it can’t be.

She shuffles back and lays into the embrace of your pillows, surrounded by the sweet scent of your perfume. She’s been dreaming of this moment as soon as she realized she saw girls differently.

How could she not? You've always been right next to her, and you were perfect in every way - you are perfect in every way. You’re smart, funny, sweet, and she thought you were beautiful as soon as she saw you for the first time, gazing at you with her jaw dropped for, most likely, a few too many seconds. Then it happened again one day when she was 16.

You’d both gone out to get ice cream and she became enraptured by the hazed look in your eyes as the liquid dripped down your chin and over the smooth skin of your hand, your soft hair, tussled by the summer breeze. Her breath caught in her throat as she scrambled to look away. She knew there was no turning back.

But most of all, you’re the one she goes to before anyone else, and it’s always been that way. You’re the only person that brings her a different kind of peace, that indica high, calmer than she feels with anybody else. You’re her girl. Always have been; always will be.

All the playful flirtation and lingering glances - she’d never imagined would really result in this.

 “What now?” she whispers, her voice coming out quieter than she intended for it to, giving her away in an instant. She clears her throat but you can't help but play into her discomfort, pleasure woven through the feeling you get when you make her needy. You already feel a buzz from the fact that she’s not pushing you away or playing you off. This was only ever a daydream in the past, but so, so much better than you'd hoped.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that; you just make sure you’re comfortable. Are you comfortable?”

She stutters through an answer, taken aback by the silkiness of your tone. God, she had dreamed about this so many times and never imagined you so like this, never imagined herself so submissive.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m comfortable… You… You aren’t fucking around, are you?”

“Fucking around? Gonna need you to be more specific, Els.”

She forces a gulp down her now dry throat, looking up at you and she mutters,

“Uh, I don’t know… Like… Like that one time you twisted my arm because you wanted to see-”

She hesitates, cutting herself off, her eyes drifting down to the curvature of your body that she’s wanted to feel for too long for just a split second.

“Can I touch you?” she splutters as soon as the thought enters her mind, overwhelmed with a sudden panic, her eyes flit up again to meet yours, flickering between each pupil in desperate search of any confirmation.

A shudder ripples through her body as your hands move closer, taking the lead before you give her the chance to. Her heart is racing.

“Can I touch you?”

She nods, almost too eagerly.

She curses internally.

You let your hand hover over her shoulder for a moment,

“Hmm, and where is it okay to touch you, Ellie?”

Ellie feels dangerously flustered. She tries to regain her composure, but it’s long gone out the window, and she’s like a handful of clay, soft and malleable, pervious under the sensational pressure of your fingertips.

“Anywhere.”

A soft smile graces your lips.

“Thirty minutes.”

You run your hand down her arm, grazing the skin gently with your nails and then down her stomach to her hip under her shirt, taking time to fully feel the gentle grooves and curves of her body for the first time.

“Is this okay, Ellie?”

She lets out a shaky breath at the feeling of your hand trailing over her skin, goosebumps rising in its wake. She swallows once more before replying, her voice unsteady.

“Yeah… Yeah, that’s fine. It feels… nice.”

“Hmm,”

Then, you place your palm on her ankle and begin to move up, ghosting your hand over her inner leg,

“I want you to tell me what feels good. Okay, Ellie?”

“Y-yeah. Sure. I can… I can do that.”

“Good. Good girl.”

You sit up and straddle her lap, and it catches Ellie off guard, suddenly feeling so much more at your mercy as you stare directly down at her, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her pink ear. Her breath hitches but she instinctively brings her hands to rest on your waist. You lean in to whisper,

“You look comfortable. Are you comfortable? I want you to feel good.”

And she tries to make sense of the fuzz in her brain to answer the influx of questions you’re asking. They’re barely keeping her grounded. Her hands move down to hold your thighs.

“Y-yeah, I’m good. You… You’re making me feel… good.”

“That’s good.”

Though you're dragging it out, teasing her because her neediness makes you wetter, eager to make her eager, you are just as needy, if not more. You're desperate to taste her, to be close to her, to feel her lips moving sensually with yours.

You place your hand over one of hers on your thigh and mutter, your words like the wisp of a feather caressing her skin,

“I’m gonna kiss you, Ellie, is that okay?

Ellie thinks she might die. The way her heart buffered in her chest once she processed your words felt too intense to not be her going into cardiac arrest. Either way, she's happy. What a way to go.

Somehow, all her feelings have culminated in this moment, in something she would never have expected, and her grip tightens to remind herself that that is really your body she’s feeling and this is really real.

She nods slowly, drowsy eyes meeting yours.

“Yeah… Yeah, yes, fuck, y-you can kiss me. Please.”

But, fuck, you just can't help teasing when she looks like she's yearning for you so sweetly that it makes your pussy flutter.

So, instead, you lean forward and kiss her forehead, listening to her labored breaths catch and watching her lips twitch in confusion when you pull back with your hands on either side of her head supporting you. You look her in the eyes and move one of them to caress the red stray hairs clinging to her face away.

“You look so beautiful."

“Th-thank you… You’re…”

It's obvious she's flustered, and it only makes you feel more high, so you pull back and kiss her cheek, mocking,

“Hm? You gonna finish that sentence, Els?”

“You’re- fuck… Y-you’re beautiful… too.”

“That’s my girl.”

You kiss the corner of her mouth and Ellie’s heart is beating hard enough for her to feel like her whole body is pounding as she squirms to lean into your touch.

“Y-your girl?”

“Yeah, Ellie.”

You lean in and finally connect lips, words blanketed by the contact.

“My girl.”

Ellie melts beneath you as you finally kiss her properly. Despite her usual nature, she finds herself completely powerless against the feelings coursing through her body. You’re completely overwhelming her senses, and you’ve never seen her like this.

She wraps her arms around your waist, and presses into the small of your back to pull you impossibly closer as she kisses you back deeply, losing herself in the moment.

You sink into her, deepening the kiss with impatience and roaming your hands along the expanse of her freckled skin while gently rutting your hips into her.  

Ellie moans against your mouth at the pressure, and you use the opening to circle her tongue with your own, making her body arch up into you.

She runs her hands along your sides, her fingers groping the fat of your ass as you grind against her. The sensations are overwhelming, arousal pooling in her underwear as her desire for more continues to grow.

“God… Please…”

You pull back, sealing your thirst with a peck on her lips.

“You’re so good for me, Ellie. You want me somewhere else?”

When she looks up at you, her eyes are clouded with desire. She can’t find the words to express herself properly, the intensity of the moment rendering her speechless, but she pushes through the fog,

“Y-yeah… I need you… more, fuck, please.”

It's blatant that your own arousal is overtaking your need to push her, so you lift her shirt up and place kisses along the soft, velvety skin of her chest, circling her pebbled nipples with your tongue. Ellie lets out a soft gasp at the warm and wet feeling, tingles erupting through her chest, and her body caves to feel the gentle pressure deepen before you get up from her lap and lift her thigh.

She watches you go with wide eyes, following you away by pushing herself up off the mattress in a subconscious attempt to remain close to you. You’re already looking back at her for permission before tugging off her sweatpants,

“You know something, Els?”

Her eyes are dark with desire and her response is hoarse.

“What… what is it?”

“I’m still really hungry.”

You push her leg up and place an anything-but- chaste kiss upon the fat of her inner thigh, watching her shudder and her eyes roll back ever so slightly in pleasure,

“Can you help me?”

Her breath hitches in her throat. She nods once, swallowing hard before replying.

“Yeah... Yeah, fuck. Just... Please,” she thrusts her hips up against you.

You run your fingers down her stomach, over the wispy auburn curls trailing down to her pussy and and over the damp fabric of her underwear, drunk off the sight of her flushed beneath you,

“Do you think you can handle that?”

Ellie's body tenses as she gasps out,

“Y-yeah, I can handle it… Fuck... You're making it really hard to think straight.”

You just smile as you drag her underwear down her legs agonizingly slowly before throwing it aside haphazardly. She watches you lower yourself in front of her pussy and it makes her throw her head back.

It's swollen and glistening, squelching quietly as she tenses above you in hungry pulses, and the exhale of a warm breath over it causes her to shiver. You chuckle.

Ellie bites her lip to muffle a moan, knowing how fucking pathetic it is that she finds it hot when you're mean, and that the breathy melody of your laugh only turned her on even more, when she didn't think that was possible.

“Please, baby…”

You run your tongue over your bottom lip and push your face in to kiss her protruding clit gently, feeling her convulse before you. She wants nothing more than for you to give her the release she craves but, before she knows it, you’re pulling away abruptly, and her throbbing pussy is left dripping again.

“Patience, okay?”

She strains out a scoff with the last shred of sanity left in her and mumbles,

“You're really testing my limits here,”

“What was that, sweetheart?”

Ellie meets your gaze with frustration, her body thrumming with need. Your teasing and the way you tower over her laying body are making her feel insane, making it difficult to get any words out. She swallows hard before replying, her voice slightly breathless.

“I said... You're testing my limits... Don’t tease me... Fuck, you’re such a dick,”

“I don’t think…”

You lean closer and run the tip of your tongue from her hole over her swollen pink clit, smearing her slick up crudely. Ellie squirms, her body taut with need.

“I don’t think I like your tone, baby, do you want me to stop? Is that what you want?”

Her eyes widen as she shifts into pleading,     

“No, no, don't stop. Please... I don't want you to stop. I'm just... Fuck... You're driving me crazy.

“I’m the one who gets to call the shots, okay, Els? I’m gonna need you to say sorry and then maybe I’ll consider giving you what you need.”

“Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please, just... I need you so bad. Please, baby, fuck…”

Ellie feels a surge of impatience, desperate for your touch and frustrated by your insistence on making her wait. She needs you, and she'll do anything to get you to give her what she wants, but what you want is to make her writhe. You kiss her forehead,

“Good girl,”

and then you crawl back to where you desperately need to be: between her legs, and push her thighs up to her chest before burying the lower half of your face into her core without warning, your tongue flexed erotically as you slurp the slick from her pussy like you're starving, flicking your tongue erratically and eagerly.

“Oh, fuck... Just like that... Please, don't stop...”

Ellie’s moans are sweet and debaucherous, with her hands scrambling for purchase, grasping at the wrinkled sheets beneath her when you thrust your tongue into her.

Your eyes never leave her face, watching the way she sinks further into the loss of control, mouth opening wider, eyes rolling back further. You slowly sink a finger, and then another, into her drooling hole with ease, feeling her pussy flutter around you.

The hold you have on her thighs is tightening mercilessly, but you're losing yourself too, untouched and squeezing your legs together to satiate your own ache.

Quickly, intoxicated by the depraved squelching sound filling the room and the suction of her walls taking in your digits, you plunge them deeper, in and out, in and out.

“Oh, oh god... Fuck, baby, please don't stop... Fuck, I'm cumming, I’m-”

Ellie arches her back, lifting off the mattress, her body tensing up as the pleasure builds to a peak within her, faster than you had anticipated. You keep your eyes trained on her, and they meet when she looks down on you, bottom lip red and raw, tugged between her teeth, eyebrows knitted in rapture.

She's completely captivated by you, her body trembling as she teeters on the edge of climax, but the sight of your half-lidded eyes gazing up at her knocks her over the edge with intensity.

She lets out a groan and then a cry of ecstasy, her body trembling beneath you as the intense waves of pleasure wash over her. You don't let up. She gasps for air, her hands rushing to your head to simultaneously push your face into her as she thrusts her hips against you, and pull you away by the hair as the pleasure becomes too much.

Her chest heaves for a moment before reaching a pinnacle in a soft sigh and, gradually, the room floods with silence. Ellie turns her head to gaze at you hazily, eyes honeyed with affection and exhaustion, and she grins toothily,

“That was... amazing... Holy fuck… You're amazing...”

Finally, you lift yourself up and hover over her.

“Yeah?”

Ellie wraps her arms around you, pulling you against her, and the tenderness of it all makes your chest fill with a tingling warmth reserved just for Ellie.

Her body still thrums with the aftershocks of pleasure,

Yeah... Yeah, that was... incredible."     

“You’re pretty cute when you get all flustered, Els.”               

Ellie blushes at your words; you hoped to draw that out of her, and she huffs slightly in feigned annoyance, though it’s completely half-hearted.

“Shut up.”

You chuckle, but it dies out quickly as she looks down at you longingly, elaborating,

“I... don't know if it's kinda late to say this now but... I love you... I mean, obviously, I do, but as... more than just a friend. I've known for a long time, I've just been too scared of ruining things to actually tell you-”

“Pussy-” Ironic.

“Shut up - you know, that is incredibly rich coming from- fuck, forget that, it's been... building for a while now, and, if you feel the same, I wanna take you out... Maybe, next Friday? Or whatever day works for you…”

She pauses before meeting your gaze, her eyes searching yours intently as she mumbles,

“Please say something. Preferably other than ‘pussy.’”

“Ellie.”

“Yes?”

“I love you too, as more than just a friend... I would love to go out with you and thanks for letting me eat you out. That was pretty awesome."

She grins stupidly,

“You're welcome, it was pretty awesome for me too.”

“Nice.”

Ellie smiles, the furious blush unfading on her cheeks as she studies your expression.

“You're enjoying this, aren't you, you little asshole.”                                                        

“Oh, absolutely.”                       

You place a gentle kiss on her freckled cheek and pull back to see the way she grins, but then her face drops.

“Fuck, I forgot to order the food.”

I just need to read something romantic with Ellie, recommend me something please!!!!

Okay, okay I thought about writing something like this: Ellie falls in love with Reader, who is afraid to admit her feelings, but is absolutely in love with Ellie, because never in her entire life nobody has she treated her so well and with so much affection like Ellie does, would you read this?

A/n: I created this scenario while taking a shower, please don't hate me lol

Warnings: Violence, mentions of suicide, Abby very villainous.

"NOT HER, LET HER GO, FUCK!"

Ellie feels her vision begin to blur as she sees the love of her life in Abby's hands.

"Hold her, I want her to see this." Abby says pulling Y/n's hair.

"FIGHT ME ABBY, SHE HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS, LET HER GO!" Ellie tried to get free while crying and screaming.

"It's okay Ellie." Y/n says as Abby throws her to the ground again.

"Yes Ellie, it's okay." Aby says mockingly and hitting Y/n's face again.

"No, fuck I'm going to kill you!"

Ellie looks at your girlfriend and sees her on the floor now completely still.

"No... NO, Y/N PLEASE SWEETHEART!" Ellie screamed.

"You can let her go now." Abby says and as soon as she is released, Ellie runs to Y/n's body on the floor.

"No my baby I'm sorry honey, I'm sorry." Ellie says hugging Y/n's limp body and kissing her hair with her eyes closed.

At that moment, Ellie didn't care about Abby or the fucking end of the world, for her her world had ended right there.

"Hey my love, can you hear me?" Ellie says softly in Y/n's ear.

Y/n opens her eyes without really knowing where she is.

"Ellie?"

"Hey my love shhh, don't try so hard my princess."

"We... we won?" She asks and Ellie closes her eyes and looks around realizing that Abby had left.

"Yes honey, you won for me." Ellie said smiling, it was a fucking lie, but there was no need to say bad things to Y/n now.

"You're such a liar." She smiles and Ellie starts crying again.

"I love you so, so much." Ellie kisses Y/n's cheeks.

"I love you too... Ellie I just realized something." Ellie looks into she's eyes.

"What honey?"

"I never told my mom how much I love you, but I think she already knew." She says closing her eyes and laughing softly.

"Do you think so?" Ellie says smiling too.

"Oh yeah, I only talked about you to her, and we're always together." They both smile.

"Well, but everyone will be sure, because if you die I won't stay here." Y/n closes her smile when she hears Ellie say that, she knew very well what her "staying here" meant.

"Ellie no..."

"Then you better stay with me, come on, let's take you home."

"Fuck Ellie it hurts." Y/n moans and the other girl just wants to scream and cry louder.

"You have to try love, please for me." They both cry softly.

"I swear if you get better we'll get married love, it'll just be me and you."

"That would be nice..." Y/n smiles, closing her eyes.

"It would be, wouldn't it? Honey? Please don't fall asleep."

"I'm so sleepy..."

"I know, I know." Ellie hugs her girlfriend's body tighter.

Fuck, I'll only stop when I take my last breath.

Favorite girl | m.list

Modern au!

╰╮ Synopsis: Ellie thinks she's in love with her new neighbor, Y/n has always liked boys, so why the hell does her heart beat so fast whenever Ellie Williams smiles at her?

╰╮ Pairing: Ellie Williams X Fem!Reader

— Warnings: Drugs,Violence, swearing, homophobia and college (Yes, this is a warning.)

A/N: Ellie is my comfort character and I decided to do this for her, it's something cute and affectionate.

Chapters

Very soon...

Taglist?

Imagine Ellie and Y/n doing that trend on TikTok:

"I loved your company, can we see each other again?"

"Of course, we're dating"

"A character is tricked into drinking something that causes them to fall head over heels for their nemesis, who does not appreciate the attention."

SOMEONE HELP ME FIND THIS FIC WITH ELLIE!!!

The reader thinks that Ellie hates her because Ellie always treats her badly, so the day before Y/n goes on a date, Ellie confesses her feelings to her.

PLEASE HELP ME

girl in the woods

Summary: There's a girl in the woods. You could kill her, but what if you didn't?

Pairing: Ellie Williams x f!Reader

Word count: ~10.1k (sorry, this was meant to be 3k max)

Warnings: post-tlou part 2, lots and lots of yearning and wanting, slow slow burn, two traumatized people trying their best, ptsd, references to past sexual assault, grief, angst, hurt/comfort, loneliness, canon typical violence, making out and dry humping, implied smut

A/N: Hiiiiii! I said I finally wanted to post for my girls this year and I'm doing it. Very nervous to post this <3 hope you enjoy, that I did Ellie justice. I would love to hear any throughs you might have <3

There’s a girl in the woods. 

She doesn’t see you, red hair shining in the midday sun. She has freckles, and green eyes to match the spring leaves rehoming themselves on the trees. 

All bone and tendon and lithe muscle.  She’s wiry enough that she’s a little painful to look at. 

It’s warm that afternoon, and it hasn’t been for a long time. Almost summer, not quite. 

The girl has her flannel tied around her waist. She stumbles and winces and halts. 

You watch as she kneels on the ground and picks through her backpack, eventually pulling out a roll of duct tape. There’s barely left any, and still it’s more than you’ve been able to scavenge in months. You consider, for half a second, putting an arrow through her throat just for that. 

Something stills your hand. 

She’d hear you, and be quicker than you, your instincts say, prey animal that you are, hiding in trees. 

She rips a length of the tape off with her teeth, throat straining and sheened with sweat. It sparkles in the hollow of her throat, and you’d like to believe that it is not a factor in the staying of your hand.

But that would be a lie. 

She’s pretty, this stranger. 

You expect her to stand when she finishes wrapping the tape around her battered left sneaker, but she doesn’t. 

She takes several deep, long breaths, her voice carrying on the wind to you. She’s panting a little, like she’d just been running, though you know she hadn’t been. “Okay,” she mutters, hand pressed against her chest. “Okay, okay, okay. You’re okay.” She holds out a hand, and it shakes. She clenches it into a fist and lets it fall to her side. “You’re okay.”

Another long, trembling breath. 

Then, silence. 

Wind through the trees and the leaves, the distant burble of the creek you draw water from once a day. 

A few minutes pass. 

She sighs and shakes her head. 

When she stands, you shift just enough to alert her to your position. She whips around, gun already raised. 

You lift your hands, empty, bow clattering out of the tree to smack against the ground in hollow thud. 

She doesn’t say anything, just breathes heavily for a moment. “What the fuck do you want?” 

You clear your voice, hoping sound might actually come out. When was the last time you spoke? Not just to another person, but at all? Years, maybe. Not since the last stranger you decided to help, always a bad idea. Apparently that lesson had weakened enough with time to let you call out to this stranger. Or maybe the sting of loneliness has finally reached its terrible climax. “If you keep going that way. . .there are infected past the fence.” Your voice crumbles on the last word, a croak more than language. “Clickers.” 

She watches you, doesn’t blink. “Get down,” she gestures at the ground with the gun, the movement a sharp jerk. Her voice isn’t as aggressive as before and you take that as a good sign. 

Slowly, so very slowly, so as not to startle another thing with bared teeth, you lower your hands and make your way down through the branches to your fallen bow. 

“Why would you tell me that?” She asks, hands steady, not shaking like they had been when she kneeled in the dirt, when she panted like something was chasing her.  

You don’t know how to answer and you’re starting to regret saying anything. You should have said nothing. It’s what someone with any inkling of self preservation would have done. She’ll probably just shoot you now.  

Really though, it doesn’t matter if she does. You shrug. 

“Are you alone?” 

“Yes.” 

There’s another long pause. She doesn’t believe you, eyes alert, swiveling around the area. 

You clear your throat and kick your bow over to her. “If there was anyone else. . .” you struggle to collect your voice, “. . .you would already be dead.”

She seems to scoff a little, though you can’t tell for sure. You should be dead already, you think, she should have just killed you. It would be simpler that way. 

“Are you hungry?” 

“What?” 

“You look hungry.” 

Maybe she isn’t, maybe you’ve just given away that you have supplies, but she picks up your bow and gestures for you to walk ahead of her. 

You shouldn’t have said anything, but the promise of supplies might be the only thing to keep you alive, at least for a little while. 

Stupid. 

You should have just let her go on. Let her get attacked by those things. 

She grabs the arrows out of your backpack as you walk ahead of her with your hands raised, and stuffs them into her own. 

She doesn’t kill you, but she prods you along with her gun heavy against your back until you reach the little one room cabin you live in, so well hidden no one has ever found you since you came upon it. 

It’s in the shadow of a cliff, where hawks circle day and night, covered in ivy tresses, tucked between trees and thick foliage that entirely obscures the wood. It’s hard to spot, almost impossible, like it’s grown right into the earth itself. 

The girl doesn’t seem to see it until you’re practically at the front door because she demands to know where you’re leading her. 

But then you open the door and she finally lowers her gun, and tucks it into the back of her jeans. There’s sun spilling in from above and you’re close enough now to see that her shoulders are sunburned and peeling. There are freckles across her cheeks and shoulders and arms. 

You drop your backpack on the floor and turn. 

She’s still watching you, not moving. 

“What’s your name?” Your voice cracks horribly, a hated sound. It’s embarrassing for reasons you can’t understand. What does it matter? 

“Why?” Her voice is flat.

You nod. “Okay.” Still, you tell her your name and then open the few cabinets you have, nudging your backpack toward her with your toe. “That’s all the food I have. Any spare clothes are in the trunk behind you.” You swallow, and then cough. The discomfort of talking is starting to ease, just a little. “You can look around, if you don’t believe me. But could you leave the bow, at least? I don’t have any other weapons. You can take the arrows.” 

It would be a days long pain, but you could make more. 

She just looks at you, bright in that patch of sunlight. Something about what you said seems to upset her. “I don’t—I’m not going to take your shit.” 

You blink. “Why? Isn’t that what you wanted?” 

Isn’t that what everyone always wants? Isn’t that just the way things are? You haven’t met someone that hasn’t wanted everything you have in a very long time, and it’s strange. She is strange, this woman.  

There’s a brief moment where something flashes behind her eyes, suddenly wide and childlike. Just a girl again. Her hand shakes as she sits down heavily on the chair by the door. “No.” 

“Okay.” 

She’s skinny, wiry. She’s missing two fingers and has a tattoo on her forearm. Details, missed before, somehow, noted now as she takes up space in the too small room. 

She sits and fidgets and doesn’t look at you. A lock of short auburn hair falls in front of her eyes. 

“If you promise not to shoot me, I’ll get something together for you,” you offer again. “And then you can be on your way.” 

What else are you supposed to do? That’s what you remember your mother doing. That’s what people need, you guess, someone to get something together for them, to look after them a little. Sometimes the kindness was so shocking, they didn’t try to take anything else. Or kill you. 

You aren’t sure if she nods or not, but she doesn’t shoot you when you turn away, and that’s good enough. 

She stays.

One day. 

Two. 

Five. 

It’s weird. She seems listless. Like now that she stopped walking she isn’t quite sure how to start again. Like there had not been a destination she was heading towards in the first place. 

The first night she was there you didn’t sleep, nor the second, sure she was going to cut your throat in the night. What else could she want but that? You gave her everything else already, and you know when there are no other things to give, people would still find something to take.

You aren’t good at fighting; you survive by hiding, and that’s impossible now. If she wanted your life, it was hers to take. 

But she doesn’t, and the fear recedes. 

“Where were you headed?” You ask on the seventh day when she still does not leave, doesn’t seem to think to even consider it. You think about asking her to leave, but don’t, worried about what the demand might prompt. 

Instead of answering you, she looks up and suddenly says, green eyes blazing, “You should take care of the infected in that town.”

Questions posed to her, you’ve learned, are often only answered with entirely different, unrelated questions, or, in this case, commands. “Why?” 

She blinks. “Why wouldn't you?” 

Because there’s only one of you. Because you only have a bow. Because there’s a fence and they stay over there, and you usually don’t have to worry about people from that way because of them. The inflected are good security, so long as you don’t get too close and they don’t get loose.

The fence has held so far.   

And if it didn’t, who would care? 

You would die or be infected and that would be the end of that.

“I guess because I wouldn’t be able to,” you answer eventually. “On my own, at least.” 

She looks at you, fidgets with fingers that are no longer there. That injury isn’t new enough to be raw but not old enough that it doesn’t at least look painful and that she often forgets the digits aren’t there. “Why are you out here alone? If you can’t fucking take care of yourself?” 

That reminder stings, even though she isn’t trying to be cruel. You don’t think she’s trying to be cruel anyway. And what does it matter if she is? Why does that hurt pulse like an open wound? “It didn’t start that way,” you say, a little defensive anyway. “I used to be—there used to be—” You stop and swallow the words back. There’s nothing you owe this person, least of all that. “Who says I can’t, anyway? I’m alive, so I must be doing okay. I take care of myself fine.” 

She just looks at you, eyes flickering over your face and then down your frame, the drag of her eyes slow, before she glances away and twists her fingers together again. “I can go hunting,” she offers.

It kind of sounds like she’s sorry, apology wrapped in stone. 

For what, you aren’t sure. 

It’s weird and you don’t like the feeling it presses into your chest. 

You frown, and then shake your head. “Why on Earth would you do that?” 

“For food?” She fiddles with her fingers again, looks up at you from the milk crate, from beneath long lashes. “You need food, right?” 

You laugh, the sound is harsh and bitter. “I still don’t know your name. And you want to go hunting? Just. . .” A pulse of irritation swims into the back of your throat. And then dread. “Just take what you want and go. Please.” 

You don’t ask, why are you here? Why haven’t you left? But you want to. 

You want to scream, suddenly. You want to grow teeth and growl and tell her to leave. 

It doesn’t occur to you that she doesn’t want to, because she hasn’t been a threat to you since the second day, or really ever at all. But you don’t know what she wants, from you or otherwise. You don’t know why she’s lingering in your company. 

People don’t linger, not in this world, not out here. 

Killing you would have been easier and for a moment you think you should have put an arrow through her neck for that duct tape, for her gun and the arrows and whatever else she had in her backpack. 

It would have been easier on you, surely. Easier than this. 

But then you imagine those big green eyes open and blank and unseeing, blood pooling around red hair in the dirt, and the thought vanishes, the anger disintegrates. There’s something so wrong about the image you almost cringe away from it.

She seems to struggle for a moment, her throat working and eyes far away, haunted by something you can’t see.

Or, maybe you can. Weren’t you all constantly grieving and angry about the same kinds of things anyway? It’s likely she isn’t that different from anyone else, any other survivor; not that different from you.  

The hard edges snapped around your heart soften just a little more. “What’s your name?” You ask again. “Tell me your name at least.” 

It takes her a minute to answer. 

“Ellie.”

She sounds like she’s not really sure if that’s true. 

It’s a pretty name, and you will tell her so eventually. 

For now, you just repeat it, testing out the sound on your tongue. 

She stays. 

Ellie draws, sketches. 

You try not to let her catch you watching her when she does it. 

There’s a stream not too far from your little cabin. Good for fishing. Apparently also good for sitting in the sun on the rocks that line it; good for sitting hunched over drawing. The rocks are good for it, at least; big and flat. 

The sparkle of the water reflects on her skin, weaves crystal blue lines over her face. She’s going to get another sunburn, but there’s not much you can do about it. Red hair, pale skin, and little sun protection; she’s bound to it. 

You peer at her freckles and then her hands, your own working mindlessly in your lap, knotting together a net to leave in the creek overnight. Thin fingers flex around a worn pencil, veins crawling up her wiry forearms.

You’ve never really thought about a person’s hands or arms before, but hers are pretty. Maybe you’ve just haven’t been around enough people to think about it, or notice. 

She’s drawing a house. A street in a neighborhood that you’ve never seen or known. An intersection, part of a wall, a graveyard. Something about it doesn’t seem right to you, and you can’t figure out what until you realize there’s no decay in her drawing. It’s a fantasy street, a life that has never existed for you, that doesn’t exist anymore. Still, it’s nice. It’s a nice dream. 

There are words around the margins of the page, crowding each other out. 

“It’s fucking creepy,” she says, not looking up, and you jolt and glance away, like it wasn’t already painfully obvious you were staring. Staring at her and her hands and that bead of moisture at the hollow of her throat, the damp skin of her neck and forearms. “You can hear them all the way over here.” 

Oh. Not about your staring problem. Worrying about the infected again. 

“Only when the wind blows this way,” you dismiss and chance a glance back up. She looks up, too, but you’re already working at the fishing line again, pretending not to feel her gaze. “It’s better to have them there,” you explain, even though she didn’t ask. “It’s like, security, I guess, y’know? People go around rather than through, or back the way they came. At least most of the time.” 

She twitches a lock of hair out of her eyes and looks back down at her journal. “Yeah,” she says, sounding very, very far away. “I know.” 

You peek up, looking at her again. A bead of sweat that drips down her temple in the heat. Her cheeks are flushed from the sun, her freckles a deep gold.

This time, she catches you looking. For a second, she doesn’t say anything, the beat of the sun like the pulse of your heart in your throat. Everything is so suddenly too warm for you. 

You clear your throat and then stand, brushing off the thighs of your jeans as you go. “I’m finished with this,” you say and lie out the netting across the rock, voice an octave higher than it usually is. “String it across the water before you come back? We’ll have trout for breakfast if we’re lucky.” You sling your bow across your shoulders and chance a look at her again. 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay.” 

You turn to go, then think better of it, not sure how long she might stay out in the sun. Ellie gets distracted, and sometimes doesn’t realize how much time has passed. 

You peel off the white button up you have on. It’s linen and soft and the color is good for reflecting the sun off her. You drape it around her shoulders and feel the heat of her skin beneath your fingertips. 

Before she can say anything, or say nothing, you turn. 

But you hear her shift and you swear you can feel her eyes on you as you walk away.

Something you forgot about being around other people, is how they disrupt things and how you have to learn to grow around it. 

You and Ellie grow around each other. 

The vast, lazy arms of familiarity stretch around both of you, corralling you close, pressing you in close. You have to stitch yourselves together, you suppose, because the cabin is only one room and that’s it. There is no excess of space to stretch out and get away from each other. 

You could try telling her to leave again, but you don’t want to. 

You eat and sleep next to each other, at the table in the corner, alternating between the bed and a bedroll on the floor each night.

Summer makes it easy to get out, though, to make space even if you had none. Even then, it becomes an unspoken rule that she follows you whenever you go out. So, you are never alone. Not anymore.  

The loneliness trapped inside your chest slips away silently. Banished from a cavern you hadn’t known it had dwelled in. 

You always thought the solitude was fine. 

Apparently not.

With that aching maw shut, you can finally look at it and recognize what it is. 

“I can handle myself,” you say one morning. She just nods, eyes far away, unreachable as is sometimes her way. 

The days are long and food comes easily. It doesn’t always and you’re already thinking about winter at the height of summer, what you will eat. Ellie goes hunting sometimes, and sometimes she brings something back. Nothing big, because you have no way to make it last, keep it fresh. You have to eat it right away, but she’s adept at hitting squirrels and rabbits exactly right so none of the meat is ruined. 

You don’t exactly miss having to hunt and dress your food and so you’re happy to let her do it. 

Most of the time you just catch fish in a net, because it's easier and because hunting draws attention. 

The fish are better anyway, because sometimes Ellie comes back from the woods looking lost and much worse than when she left, though not like she’d been in any kind of fight.

You seem to talk all the time, both of you, though you aren’t sure about what. On the better days, you find that she likes to tell jokes and stories. You aren’t sure if they’re her own or something she read or heard somewhere else. Probably her own, she seems like the kind of person who’s seen and done too much. 

But when she tells those jokes and you laugh at some of them, her face softens and she laughs right along with you. It’s nice and it makes your chest hurt. 

You’ve never had cause to feel embarrassed before, but you are about a lot of things now. You suddenly share everything with someone again. Space and things and thoughts. Everything is a minefield of ways you aren’t good enough, might be doing something wrong or weird. 

It hadn’t mattered what you did before because it was just you and those four walls. 

But nothing you do seems to bother her much. 

She doesn’t seem to mind your terrible cooking, not that she eats that much; or that you hum under your breath to keep yourself company, though she does tease you for it sometimes; or the way you twist and turn when you aren’t able to sleep, memories circling like vultures, get up to pace outside, which in turn makes her get up and sit outside while you do. 

One hot night, in what you think must be July, she reaches out across the dark. Crickets sing in the air, chirping and buzzing. Usually it’s a soothing sound, tonight it reminds you of things better forgotten, people who belong in the past.

She reaches out and lays a hand on your hip. “Stop moving. You’re driving me fucking crazy.” 

You don’t know what to make of her hand on your hip, the way she squeezes and then lets go and how you don’t move after she lets go, feeling the lingering warmth of her hand on your side like a brand. 

You stay still and watch her silhouette resolve itself in the dark, the slope of her nose, and the fringe of her hair growing a little longer each day, the sharp jut of her cheekbone.

“I’ve never slept well,” you whisper. “I’m sorry.”  

“Who does?” She turns on her side, back facing you.

You want to reach out to her, push a finger into her sharp spine, trace the long length of it. It’s inexplicable, that yearning, open hole in your chest. You want to do much more than trace her spine, the hot imprint of her hand on your hip like a brand, still felt there. 

“Yeah,” you agree faintly and decide to get up. You don’t want to keep her awake, and she has the bed tonight so maybe she’ll sleep well.

That, and you can’t just keep lying there staring at her, yearning and pining pathetically. 

The moon is high in the sky, bright and full, unlikely that anything would be lurking near. If your little place is hard to see during the day, it’s impossible at night.

“Where are you going?” She asks when you stand and start toward the door. 

“Outside. So I won't keep you up.”  

“You aren’t keeping me up,” she says, sitting up, bare legs pale in the opal pool of moonlight, forearms braced against her knees. “But you will if you go out there alone.” 

She has nightmares sometimes and wakes with a gasp. She thinks you don’t know but you always wake with her, with that gasp and half yelp. 

Sometimes, she just goes back to sleep, breathing hard and quick for a few minutes before it peters off into something even again. 

Most times, she cries or panics and you never know what to do. You don’t know if it's better for her to think you don’t know, or try to help somehow.

Once, you had reached out and put your hand in hers. 

For a long moment, she hadn’t done anything and you felt stupid. But the next second she curled her hand around yours and everything was fine again. It goes like that a lot of nights. Her hand in yours in the dark, thumb slowly stroking back and forth. 

So, maybe it isn’t so weird that you’ve started daydreaming of other things. 

She looks at you and you look back at her and neither of you move. “I thought I was driving you crazy.”  

Ellie rolls her eyes and shakes her head, looking away from you, down at the floor between her knees when she swings her legs over the side of the bed. “You are.” 

“Okay,” you shrug. “So stay here and get some sleep.” She just looks at you, blinking through the dark. “Or, if you can’t sleep either, come with me and stop complaining.”

She groans but gets up anyway and slips a pair of shorts on. You try not to look at her as she does. 

A few minutes later, you sit shoulder to shoulder on that same rock you lie out the fishing net from. She leans into you and you lean into her, skin tacky and warm with humidity. Ellie keeps the rifle in her lap, and you close your eyes and tip your head against her shoulder, listening to the distant thud of her heartbeat. 

She doesn’t say anything and so you decide it must be okay. For a long time, you just watch the silver dart of fish beneath the surface of the water, a flash of scales and nothing more in the pale moonlight. 

The night is warm and so is the rock beneath your legs, heat retained from its long day in the sun. Your feet dip into the cool water flowing just below, the sounds of crickets and night bugs blending seamlessly into the cries and clicks of the infected behind the distant fence. Always there as a reminder, no matter how peaceful the night.  

You can feel her breathing against you, the slow lift and fall of her shoulder, the inhale and exhale of breath. You wonder what keeps her awake, what she dreams about, but you don’t ask. Ellie is right, everyone has some kind of horror they see when they close their eyes. You wonder anyway, you wonder all kinds of things about her that you don’t ask. 

Ellie surprises you by asking, “What were you thinking about?” 

For a moment, you consider not answering, just leaving the question to shrivel and die in the air. You nod against her shoulder, pull your foot out of the creek and watch the water drip off it, considering her question. 

“Nothing really.”

“You don’t think about nothing that hard.” She pushes her knee into yours, tips the side of her head into yours, and it feels like it might be all right to tell her. 

“I guess you’re right.” You hike your knee up to your chin, a wet footprint forming on the rock beneath you. “I was glad when my mom died,” you say. “I know how that sounds. But it’s true.” 

She hesitates. 

Then, “Wasn’t it just you and her?” 

“Yeah, but you know I’m not much of a fighter.” You pause, pain twisting up in your chest. “She wasn’t a good mother. We survived by hiding and giving people what they wanted. Giving them anything they wanted. Sometimes that meant me. And sometimes it didn’t matter either way/ Why we couldn’t just hide from the people too, I don’t know.” 

Ellie doesn’t say anything, because you suppose there’s nothing to say. 

You finish quietly. “Sometimes, it’s like I’m still waiting for the door to open. For her to walk in. I always wondered what it would have been like for her to die if she. . .I don’t know, was good to me.” 

Her hand lands on your knee, rubs a circle into the side of it before she picks up your hand and holds your fingers between her palms. She squeezes tight. It’s more than words could ever say. 

“That’s really fucking shitty.” 

You laugh, it’s such a mild sentiment, said so aggressively on your behalf. It breaks the tension, at least. “Yeah. It was, but it’s over now. You’re the first person I decided to talk to in a long time.” 

Her shoulder rocks into yours. “That was so stupid. Why’d you do it?” 

“I don’t know. I had a good feeling about you, I guess.” 

“Shut up!” 

“I’m serious!” You pinch her wrist and then bump her shoulder back. You can feel her hair sticking to your cheek. Would she answer if you asked the same of her? What kept her awake at night? “Maybe I just thought you were pretty,” you say instead, covering the knot of your hands with your free one. 

You don’t need to look to know she’s rolling her eyes. “Yeah whatever,” she scoffs gently. 

You can feel the veins in the back of her hand and in her wrist, the lines in her palm, the tendon twitching as her muscles flex minutely. It’s quiet for a long minute, just your hand in hers and the cooling breeze on your skin. An ache forms in your chest.

Ellie twitches and there’s suddenly something anxious crackling in the air, the stillness of the sky before lightning strikes. She fidgets, and you wonder if you should let her go, but when you loosen your fingers, she doesn’t let go.  

You feel the intake of her breath, like she’s about to say something. You squeeze her hand one more time and then drop it, sitting up straight. 

She doesn't touch you again, and whatever she had been about to say goes unsaid. 

And that is the end of that. 

You stomp out the rest of the longing with a hard, sharp pinch. 

That wouldn’t do. It has no place. 

 A few days later, she brings you scissors, fidgeting and awkward about it when she asks if you’ll cut her hair. Her hair is wet from the creek, stuck down behind her ears and the back of her neck, and you want to tell her it’s cute. 

It’s decidedly not cute, the way she just stands there in the doorway in a bra and jeans, skin still damp. Her skin shimmers with wet, beads along her abdomen and at the base of her throat. It’s not cute, the thoughts you have or that way your mouth goes dry. 

You don’t say anything, just settle her in front of your only mirror and snip until she tells you to stop. You’ve never cut someone’s hair before, and it’s oddly intimate. The wet ends stick to your hands, the heat of her body feels more potent. She could have done this herself, is the worst part. You’ve seen her hack at it before by herself.  

You ruffle the ends of it when you’re done, inadvertently feeling the soft skin behind her ear, the back of her neck. She shivers but when you look up, she’s looking at herself in the mirror and you can’t decide what the expression on her face means. There’s something wobbly in her features, like she’s seeing something else, someone or someplace else. 

She doesn’t say to stop, so you keep snipping until her hair is shorter even than when you’d first seen her, combing your fingers through it as you go, feeling the unbearable heat of her skin against yours. 

You wish you could just bury your fingers there, step around her and press your hands against her jaw. You wonder what she would taste like, if her mouth is as soft as the skin behind her ear, what sounds she might make. 

Or, maybe she’d push you away. Maybe the tension in the air, the metallic twang of it, is all in your head. 

Eventually, Ellie says thank you, her voice barely there in its softness.

It’s not an accident when you brush your fingers through her hair again, just to touch her again. She laughs under her breath and the sound is awkward and it startles you and you know you made a mistake when you look up and meet her eyes in the mirror. 

It’s awkward and weird because you’re making it awkward and weird. 

You hastily pull your hand away and busy yourself with putting the shears away, not turning until you hear the door open and shut.  

“Oh, man.” The soft reverence of her voice makes you jump. 

“Ellie?” You call, letting the pile of clothes you’d been pawing through slump to the ground. It’s the end of summer, and you’re already on the hunt for winter gear, though you suspect the weather won’t turn for a while. Cold could set in so quickly and you don’t want to be caught without, especially since Ellie doesn’t have anything more substantial than her jacket, and it seems like she’s not planning to leave. “What is it?”

“I’m okay,” she answers and you realize how panicked you sounded. “C’mere.”

You move to the next room, where she’s sitting on the floor, more relaxed than you’ve ever seen her before. There’s a cardboard box in front of her that she shuffles eagerly through. “What?”

“Savage Starlight.” She holds up one of the books from within, flimsy pages falling apart. “Have you ever read it?” 

“Never even heard of it,” you answer and sit next to her on the ground, the crest of your knee pressing against her thigh, shoulders bumping together. It means nothing, and still makes your stomach twist up in knots. “Is it any good?” 

“It’s fucking awesome. I used to have a whole collection of them.” 

Used to. You wonder, not for the first time, where she came from, where she had been going when you called out to her that first day, why she’s so content to stay with you. Like a wanderer who hadn’t known she could stop walking. 

Instead of asking, you say, “Ohhh, I get it. You’re a nerd.” 

“Oh, ha ha. Fuck you.”

You snort. 

“Is that the only one in there? Have you read that one?” 

She flicks through it and nods, the corner of her mouth twisting to the side. “Yeah. A long time ago, though.” Ellie doesn’t say more, but her hand lands on your knee for just a second, smoothing back and forth, then squeezing as she gets up. The little book gets tucked lovingly into her backpack, though she doesn’t seem interested in looking through the rest of them. 

“When?” You ask, not looking up at her as you shift through the box she left behind. Not all of them are Savage Starlight comics but quite a few of them are, and you have half a mind to pick some of them out and bring them back with you if she liked them so much.  

You’ve never been a very good reader, but it’s not like you’d had a chance to become one. Reading didn’t help you much with surviving. 

But the same character is on the front of each issue, so they’re easy to tell apart, even if the shapes of the letters are familiar but indecipherable to you.

“What?” 

“When’d you read it last?” You ask again, plucking out another book and turning your face up to hers. Dust motes float thickly in the air, partially obscuring her face, sun slanted through the haze blinding you. 

She won’t answer, you think. She never does. Hurt would flash across her face, then grief, and then she’d turn away. This time she doesn’t. Though she doesn’t really look at you, she makes brief what you think is probably a very long story — came all the way from Boston when she was a kid, found them along the way, somehow, collected them. 

“That’s a long way,” you say, trying to remember exactly where Boston is and just coming up with pretty fucking far. “Boston. I can’t imagine it. Who’d you come all this way with? And why?” You dare to ask.

This time, she doesn’t answer you.

It happens the next time you’re out hunting for supplies. 

You crawl through a gap between a collapsed wall and a bookcase and find yourself in a music store. Normally, you do everything quietly, silently. But it was a good day, with lots of finds, lots of lucky finds, and you and Ellie have been goofing off all afternoon, laughing. You feel young, like a kid. She’s been telling jokes again, and even if you can tell she’s memorized them from somewhere and laughs like she isn’t the one telling the joke, you find them funny too. 

The day feels like sunshine. 

It’s weird. And you like it. 

It’s nice, you’re slowly coming to realize. 

Not being alone is nice. 

Despite Ellie’s protests, you crawl through the gap first, not even waiting for her to finish cleaning out a drawer containing an ancient medkit, several spools of needle and thread, and one lone shotgun shell. 

It’s been a couple months, but you used to regularly come through this way, and so you aren’t expecting the runner that slams into you almost immediately, or the one that follows. 

The only distant thought you have is that you must have been making too much noise, which is odd because you don’t make noise, you don’t even talk. 

But you do, now, you do. 

Having Ellie around has unmade your silence. You hope it kills you, if it comes to it, so you don’t have to do it yourself if it gets its teeth in you. 

There’s a ringing gunshot, the explosion of corroded flesh. The noise surprises you and you yelp, decaying teeth snapping at your face. You can feel your arm giving out under the weight of it. 

You only struggle for a few more seconds, arm braced against its jaw and throat before a shower of viscera rains down on you. Ellie rips her knife back out of its skull and you push the thing off you and roll to your feet. Ellie is staring at you and breathing heavily, brow pinched and mouth flat. It’s both lucky and strange that there only seems to be two of them. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” She snaps, or maybe growls, so suddenly into the ensuing silence that you flinch. “Why the fuck didn’t you wait? I told you to wait for me.” 

“I used to come this way all the time,” you say, swiping the blood from your face on your shoulder and resisting the urge to do the same to her, omiting the words before you showed up. “There’s usually nothing here.” 

“Well there was this time, wasn't there?” She asks, spreading her arms wide. 

You scoff and shake your head, not really understanding why she’s upset. “Whatever, Ellie, c’mon. It’s fine. Let’s just get out of here.” 

“Are you bit?” 

“What?” 

“Did that fucking thing bite you?” Her voice is shrill and tipped with sharp panic. 

You blink and glance down at yourself. “No. No. I mean, I don’t think so?” 

Ellie grabs you roughly, looking you over herself, hands everywhere, pressing into all the places you’ve always wanted her to touch you, though not in this way. Her search of you is clinical, business-like. “Clean,” she assesses, fingers tangled in your shirt, grip tight. 

And then, “Why aren’t you upset?” She asks hotly. She readjusts your jacket with a yank before stepping back and shoving you away, just a little. You stumble and catch yourself against the decaying counter. She looks guilty for a split second before she crosses her arms. 

“What’s there to be upset about?” You ask, bewildered. If it happened, it happened; and that would be that. “Why the fuck are you so mad?” Frustration creeps into your voice. “Either explain it or let it go. Nothing happened.”  

Ellie unfolds her arms, stance widening, eyes searching yours, brow pinched. “Are you fucking kidding me?” 

You aren’t but something tells you that would be the wrong thing to say. Instead, you shrug again and try to explain yourself. Maybe you aren’t being clear. 

“It doesn’t matter, right? It’s just how things go sometimes. I wouldn’t have made you do it, you know,” you say. Something settles in you. That’s it, she wouldn’t have wanted to clean up your mess. “Shoot me, I mean. I would have done it myself. It’s okay.”  

But that just seems to make her more angry and she doesn’t answer your question. The rest of the day is spent in relative silence, and anything you say immediately dies in the air, words buried before they breathe.

You clear the music store, and then the place next to it, some kind of sporting goods store. She hurries you along. No more jokes or stories or messing around. Just get out, out, out. Out of this place, down the path past the fence, back to the cabin. 

She’s fine at first, just angry with you, until she suddenly isn’t.

It happens as soon as she crosses the threshold into your cabin, the door swinging shut behind her. 

Ellie sounds like she had that first day you saw her, like she does when she wakes up from dreaming, breathing hard like she’s been running for a long time, like a wounded animal. And you still aren’t sure what to do to help her, if there’s anything at all you can do. 

The way she clutches at her chest and then at you, scares you and all you can do is latch on and not let go, and hope it’s enough. You circle your arms around her and squeeze as hard as you can. It seems to help, the pressure of your arms around her, crossed firmly over her spine, fingers knotted together at the base of her back. 

You sink to the floor together, not able to support both of you.

Her skin is tacky against yours when her breathing evens out again. You don’t realize how tense her body is until she goes slack in your arms. “Are you all right? You ask eventually, the sun sinking lower, shadows moving across the floor, trying not to show how much she’s scared you. 

“Yeah.” Her voice snaps a little but she doesn’t move and lets you pet the hair back from her forehead.

“Okay.” You tighten your arms around her. “Okay.” 

You stay there cocooned together on the floor. When dark finally starts to settle in, Ellie finally moves, mumbling something under her breath that you don’t quite catch. 

You aren’t sure if you should say something about it and you know that she won’t. “Ellie—”

She pulls away from your arms, the breeze that slips between you almost cold, without the warmth of her against you. You tighten your grip and expect her to fight it, but something in her seems to break and softens into you again. 

“Ellie, what happened?” 

“Nothing.”

Darkness creeps in, you stay on the floor together, hand against her spine and in her hair. She presses her face into your shoulder. It’s oddly vulnerable, but maybe it’s easier in the dim light, like it had been that night by the creek, maybe she doesn’t have the energy not to be, after whatever had upset her earlier. 

It takes a long time, almost all night, curled together on the floor, but eventually, when she must think you’re asleep, she whispers, “I don’t want to be alone again.” 

You aren’t sure how to answer, not sure how to say that you don’t want that either, and not sure what today had to do with it. 

Instead of saying something, you rub circles into the top of her shoulders and hope it’s enough. 

Summer is ending, but some days of late summer are still hot. 

The grass is dry with it, and you’re worried about the creek drying up. It hasn’t rained all summer. 

What will you do then? If the creek is gone? The creek is always there, not only for water but for food. 

You worry about food a lot and you worry about Ellie eating. 

She’s never hungry, even when you remind her she hasn’t had anything all day. 

“I’m just not,” she says dismissively and waves you away from her, like someone swatting away a gnat. 

It’s horrible, the way you just let her shoo you away. 

Sometimes you’re able to leave her alone about it, other times you aren’t and make a big deal about it until she finally eats something, or drinks water at the very least. And you know it’s just to appease you, and you like that and hate it all in one. 

You don’t talk about why she doesn’t eat and you don’t talk about why you can’t let it go when she doesn’t. 

“Look what I have,” you often say, enthusiastic and encouraging before you’ve even asked her to try whatever it is you’ve foraged. You’ll crouch beside her and lean into her arm and show her whatever you found. Often, her arm will brace against your back to steady you in place, fine fingers curled on your hip. You must look pathetic doing it because it’s obvious what your play is, but she’ll always try whatever you have cupped in your palms.  

Roasted fish, a handful of blackberries, dried rabbit, apples sliced in thin little sheaves.

Still, she eats. And you notice it on her bones. 

It makes you feel better. 

One day, in early fall the rain finally comes back. It rains so hard that you can’t hear yourself think over the drum of it against the roof. 

You stay inside that day. You’re used to going out with Ellie, now, though. You find yourself restless, pacing. There’s not much to do inside the small space besides eat and cook and sleep. Usually you don’t spend much time inside, and you can’t remember what you did on days like these before Ellie showed up. 

What did you do when it rained? Mended clothes and sorted through supplies and food, probably, or else did other tasks you saved for bad days. It’s hard though, because the place has never felt smaller, and everything is warm and damp, and you’re having trouble keeping your eyes from skirting over the girl lounging on the bed in the corner of the room, her back propped against the wall. 

Ellie fidgets, too, but less than you do, and she’s never looking at you when you’re looking at her, and so maybe she isn’t looking at all. 

What did it matter if she did or didn’t look? 

The thought makes that anxious warm feeling that lives in your chest constantly these days bubble up to the back of your throat. You feel like you’re going to throw up every time you look at her for too long.

It fucking matters, because you want her to be looking, you want it so badly it forms a wellspring of hurt in the center of your chest. It’s so hard to just be inside with her, with nothing to distract you. 

“Why don’t you try reading something?” She says and holds up the comic she’d found months ago now. You don’t make a move to take it and she holds it out instead. 

You remember the way she looked at the cover, the softness around her eyes and mouth, and know she’s trying to tell you something important, share something about herself. It makes the cage around your heart soften, the fluttering of your pulse slow a little. “I can’t,” you say gently and then look down at your feet. “Read, I mean,” you hurry to clarify when her face starts to close up, “at least not too well.” 

Surprise lingers long in the silence, green eyes wide, brows propped up. “You can’t read?” 

“I. . .No. I guess not.”

“But you found a lot of these for me,” she says, disbelieving. 

“They all have that girl on the front,” you explain, suddenly feeling like you might cry over something stupid. “Sorry.” 

She looks at you for a minute, her mouth twitching down and to the side before she glances at the cover again. “I can—if you want, I guess—I mean, I can read it to you.” 

You feel bad and embarrassed and the rain is loud and you can’t think. You’ve never really felt stupid or embarrassed before, you were always alone so who could you compare yourself to, to feel those things? “Uh,” and your voice cracks and you clear it and it’s worse. “That’s all right. You don’t have to.” 

Who fucking cares if you can’t read? What did reading get you anyway?

Reading didn’t put food in your belly or puzzle out how to get past infected or learn to string a bow. It didn’t do shit for you. 

But it suddenly seems really important that you can’t.

“I used to know how, a little,” you say even though you mean to say nothing at all. You cross your arms over your chest and you can’t help but notice her eyes follow the movement. You don’t know what’s better or worse, being looked at by her and noticed, or not. Your face feels warm. “But we left the—the QZ when I was little. And it wasn't important anymore. So, whatever I knew, I guess I forgot.”

“How long have you been here?” She asks, brows furrowing, and you hear the other, unasked, question, how long have you been alone? 

“Years.” You nod to yourself. “A long time. My mom didn’t think it was important. It was just me and here so how could I — I mean, the only people that ever came by took whatever they could and left. So.” 

The wrinkle in her forehead deepens and then disappears. “Come here.” She pats the space on the bed next to her and peels the comic open. “I’ll help you remember how.” 

The pity stings a little. 

“You don’t—” 

She rolls her eyes. “Just fucking—come here. I want to show you something.” 

Slowly, you creep forward and sit next to her, watch her spread the pages out with the spindly fingers that occupy so many of your thoughts against her bent knees. Comic books are mostly pictures and you could have probably feigned being able to read it, but some part of you wanted her to know. You didn’t want to lie to her about it. 

Reading, she spent so much time doing it since you found the comics and books. It was important, so it would have been hard to lie about it to her, or just pretend that you could. 

The letters are familiar, but her voice is soothing and the words resolve themselves a little in your mind. You let your head loll down onto her shoulder, feeling the bone beneath your ear, the rush of blood and the last reverberation of her voice. 

It’s like that night at the creek all over again. Your body is a yearning want that you don’t push down fast enough. 

Between the rain and the letters dancing on the page and her voice, you find yourself very close to sleep. You don’t realize she stopped reading or flipping the pages until you feel her mouth against your head. Just the faintest brush of it against your hairline, the slowest inhale against your skin, like she’s memorizing your scent. 

She must really think you’re asleep because when you tilt your face up, she glances away, pink siphoning into her cheeks. “Fuck,” she mutters under her breath, the word barely audible. 

Caught. 

“Sorry,” she says more clearly, not looking at you, still blushing furiously, shifting awkwardly.

You pull back a little, worried she doesn’t want you leaning on her anymore. “Ellie?” You cup her jaw in your palm, but she resists your attempt to tilt her head in your direction. Her skin is warm beneath your hand. She still doesn’t look at you, her hair falling over your fingers. 

 The feeling of mistake floods your chest, all the reasons and worries you harbored not to do something like this, to show your cards. You feel like maybe you should apologize too. 

One moment she isn’t looking at you at all, and then she is and she’s kissing you. It’s soft and tentative and you’re so surprised you don’t do anything for a solid five seconds. Long, aching seconds in which your mind screams and short circuits all at once. 

Ellie pulls away a little, her lips brushing yours, elegant, deadly, fingers digging into your jaw and your hip. 

You exhale and then pull her back, tasting and still soft. Her lips are chapped, bitten, and somehow—

Somehow, it’s nice. 

It’s better than nice, it’s—

Your head swims. 

She pulls back again and looks at you, eyes swiveling between both of yours, green eyes dilated, like this is some great surprise to her too. “I didn’t think—I mean, I thought maybe you weren’t—”

“Well,” you say, tipping your chin up and trying not to swallow the words back down, “you were wrong.” 

This time, it’s aggressive, the pull of you into her; the rearrangement of limbs and bodies to better fit together. 

The rain continues on, lighter now, the tattoo of it quieter. 

Her tongue slips into your mouth, her chilled fingertips sliding down your back and then into your jeans. You jump, because her hands are cold and her face against yours is so warm, and maybe you weren’t delusional or wrong because she’s touching you everywhere. 

She tastes warm. Her skin is damp, a warm human humid. 

Her fingers slide to your waist, blunt nails digging into your skin, leaving half moons behind. You gasp against her mouth, tendrils of want wrapping tight around your body, curling uselessly in your belly, and slide your fingers into her hair, soft, short strands slipping against your palms, and pull her as close as you can, her hips settled against the cradle of yours. 

It feels different to the other times you’ve been with someone, and maybe it's because you know this is not in exchange of something, that this time it isn’t to survive the moment or the day.  

She jagged against you, boney and lithe in places she probably shouldn’t be, but less so than a few months prior. There’s so much you don’t know about her, but maybe you’re starting to know the more important parts of her.

She pulls away when you push her back, tucking one leg around her, arm braced against the mattress by her head. 

“Ellie,” you say against her mouth and cup her cheek in one palm. She squeezes her eyes shut, pink skin bright beneath her freckles. She looks like she’s trying to hold back a smile. It makes you laugh a little. “What?” 

Her eyes flicker open. “Nothing.” But she is smiling now, and it’s a moment that feels so good, it doesn’t quite feel real.

The rain is still petering down, gentle tapping against the roof. “Nothing.” You wriggle closer to her. “Okay. So you wouldn’t mind if I—” 

You lean down and kiss her again, touching the side of her neck, the damp strands of her hair curling behind her ears all, all you want, to your heart’s content. And this time without worrying about what it meant. 

The side of her thigh presses into the meat of your hip, hands skimming down your sides, settling on the curve of your waist and then between your legs. 

You gasp against her mouth and tug at her hair. 

She’s close and not close enough, the teasing of her fingers through two layers of clothing a barely there brush. Her laugh is soft when you buck your hips against her hand. It’s not enough and she knows it. 

Ellie presses her fingers more firmly against your core before she slides her arms around you and tugs you down onto her. She strokes a hand across your shoulders and you find that you’re very close, nearly nose to nose, her thigh between both of yours.

Time passes quietly in that moment, the two of you just looking at each other. “Is it still nothing?” You ask, trying to memorize the shade of her eyes, that very precise color of green you swear you have never seen anywhere else before. “Or is this enough for now?”

“Yeah,” she says, eyes flicking away from yours, that pink color rising in her cheeks again. 

You press tightly against each other, so close you think you might be able to feel the hummingbird flutter of her heartbeat.

Her skin is tacky against yours, sticking and warm. When you move against each other, the rain has finally stopped and the only thing left is the humidity, the heat of the little room. 

You feel the comic book slap onto the floor. 

She groans when you kiss down her throat, across the soft skin of her chest. 

You want to see every part of her, slide your hands up her sides and beneath her shirt, peel away the layers of clothes that separate you from her, but you settle for this, the movement of you together, her hips grinding against yours, friction that is both nothing and everything, not enough and too much. 

The loneliness that has ruled your life for so long is nowhere to be found, the crater in the middle of your chest doesn’t ache so badly. 

You wonder if the wanderer might leave again, and decide it doesn’t matter.

You agree with her, this is enough for now. This is more than enough, for now, even just for a little bit, for this moment. 

She groans into your mouth, the sound quiet in the dusk that nestles along the floorboards, body jerking against yours, hands tightening on your waist, fingers of fire licking along your spine. 

“Did you—”

“Shut up,” she groans. 

“That’s hot.” 

“Just—come here,” she presses you back, lithe hands falling to your hips again, fingers digging beneath your shorts. “Just be quiet.” 

You don’t have another thought that night. 

Morning dawns pale and sunny. There’s a chill in the air but the rain has dissipated. 

Ellie is gone. 

The gnawing maw of loneliness and disappointment rips open in your chest. 

It’s painful, but not surprising. You won’t dwell on it, you think as you sit up.

You stand and look over your naked skin, the marks left on your skin, the whorls and swirls of desire left behind. 

You pull on your clothes from the day before, because they might still smell a little like her, they might remind you of her for a while. 

The sun feels warm on your skin when you step outside with your bow. The walk to the creek to check the net feels longer, the sun brighter and more overwhelming. You’d been alone before, you could certainly do it again. Things would be as they always had.  

Better this way, maybe. 

When you walk around the bend in the trees, you see her, hauling in the net, slender arm straining against the pull of the current.

The relief is so intense you have to stop, watch her for a long moment. The shine of her hair so bright and in need of another trim, forearms slick with water, battered sneakers kicked off to the side next to the rifle, pale skin marred with bruises your sucked into her skin. 

“Ellie,” you say. 

She hears you somehow, smiles a little shyly when she turns, rubbiung the back of her neck with her free hand. “Hey.” 

“You’re still here.” 

She shrugs as you get closer, brows furrowed. “Yeah, just getting breakfast.” 

“Oh. You—yeah, of course you are.” 

“Are you hungry?” 

“Starving.” 

“Me too.” It surprises you, but she doesn't seem to think anything of her words. She jerks her chin at the flat rock you’ve spent so much time with her on, sketching and sunning and writing or drawing. “Sit down for a second. I want to tell you something.” 

You do as she asks, because she hardly ever wants to tell you anything. “What is it?” 

She leaves the net half in the water, two silver fish caught up in it, and swipes her hands on her jeans. You lean into her when she sits next to you, experimentally tilting your face toward hers, just to see what she’ll do. 

Ellie smiles, a real smile, big and toothy, before she kisses you. It’s soft. She has morning breath and you don’t mind. She smells metallic, like creek water or blood, like the cradle of lavender in the cabin.

“What did you want to tell me?” You ask softly, lips still brushing yours.

Hesitancy creeps into her features. “It’s kind of a really long story.” 

“Good thing we have time. For now, you know. Better just to get on with things while you can.” 

You mean it as a joke but she nods, her expression serious. 

And so the story begins. 

If you read this far, you have no idea how much I appreciate it. Thank you for reading and being here, and as always would love to hear anything you have to share. 💕

GOD DAMN YALL ARE HUNGRY FOR SWEETHEART READER AND ELLIE FANFIC- I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE THE LEAST BUT TURNS OUT ITS THE FIRST LMAO. (but since people are asking for love duel chapter two and knight! Ellie and queen! Reader, I will give it to yall after uploading the sweetheart!reader fanfic.)

SO PLS WAIT AND HAVE PATIENCE CAUSE IM IN A FINAL EXAMS MONTH AND GOTTA MAKE TIME FOR MY STUDYING! I ALREADY HAVE THEM DONE BUT NEEDING EDITING AND STUFF SO THATS A WIN!

Ty for helping me choose and as always requests are open for who have an idea or a thought that they would like for me to write about so don't be shy and feel welcome to do! ( ≧∀≦)ノ

guys I think sal and Ellie are really good friends guys

Stairway to heaven pt 1 (aka Ellie meeting Sal)

honestly it's so tiring trying to find fluff/angst ellie fics here, like dont get me wrong i like a good smut but i want some fluff/angst 😭😭