𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧: 𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

can u pretty please with a cherry on top make a part 4 to the milf abby 😔🙏🏼💟

Headcannons: Milf!abby anderson x reader (part 4)

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

Authors note: Ladies and pookies I'm back! This last week has been the worst and most painful week of my life but, I'm back and better than ever <3

☆ Milf Abby who gets your initials tattooed on her ring finger.

You felt her calloused hands grab your waist as you stood admiring the ring she got you.

“it’s pretty” you muttered

“you’re pretty” she said with a smile

“shut up Abby” you shoved her to the side as you felt your face grow hot.

The two of you stood in silence for a while, enjoying the peace and quiet you both rarely get with Aubrey

“you know” Abby started “if the bride gets to wear an engagement ring, what about their partner?”

Your brows furrow, at the thought.

“that actually makes a lot of sense Abby. We should get you a ring-“

but before you could even finish you sentence Abby lifted up her right hand revealing the tattoo.

“what the fuck Abigail”

☆ Milf Abby who refers to you as her wife long before the wedding.

“Yeah my wife and I went there”

“she’s my wife”

“my wife likes that show” “you know what they say happy wife happy life”

☆ Milf Abby who buys you white dresses as gifts just to see what you would look like in white, because she really couldn’t wait for the wedding.

☆ Milf Abby who’s literally a perfectionist and plans the wedding without a planner.

“No, you aren’t folding the napkins right” “that isn’t the right shade of pink”

☆ Milf Abby who asks her daughter to be the ring bearer and the maid of honor.

Aubrey looked at you with curious eyes as Abby placed the box onto her lap.

“dude what’s this?”

“Aubrey I’m not your friend, who taught you that word?” Abby sighed

“grandpa did” “of course he did. He really needs to stop-“

 “Abby lets focus on the box” you interrupted her, knowing this conversation wasn’t going anywhere.

“Can I open it please?” Aubrey asked you, with a polite smile.

“of course she’s nice to you! You little gremlin-“

“Abby!”

Abby felt Aubrey pinch her arm at the gremlin comment

“why would you-“

“ok” you said with a stern voice “lets open the box, you guys can fight later”

sometimes it felt like you were living with children.

Aubrey’s small hands grabbed the box, eagerly tearing away the wrapping paper. In the box lay a simple white dress, with paper rings. The little girl gently grabbed the fabric, inspecting it. She saw the rings and it took her a while to get it.

“I’m carrying the rings?!” she yelled

“and we were hoping you’d be our maid of honor too” you pulled out a basket from behind you and the girls smile grew.

☆ Milf Abby who begs you to let her go with you when you go wedding dress shopping.

“please”

“Abby its bad luck”

“fuck the bad luck”

☆ Milf Abby who sends you thumbs down emoji’s the whole time you were gone.

☆ Milf Abby who doesn’t want to sleep in separate houses the night before the wedding.

☆ Milf Abby who sends you cringe Facebook minion memes and jokes because she misses you. This was your first night apart in months, but she knew after tonight she would be waking up with you next to her for the rest of her life.

☆ Milf Abby who barley slept that night. She wasn’t sure if she was nervous or excited.

☆ Milf Abby who gets ready extremely early. Her hair was out of her normal tight braid, and the hair fell to her shoulders. Her black suit hugging her in all the right places.

☆ Milf Abby who starts at herself in the mirror too long, and she suddenly notices her wrinkles, she suddenly notices the grey hairs.

☆ Milf Abby who gets cold feet.

☆ Milf Abby who starts crying because you didn’t deserve this.

You needed someone younger, some who doesn’t have back pains and complains about their joints hurting. Someone who wasn’t turning 50 soon.

Someone who won’t die soon.

You needed more than Abby.

Abby’s loud sobs filled the room as she looked at herself in the mirror.

She should call this off.

“Abby?” her head snapped to the direction of the door. It was her dad. She quickly wiped her eyes, and she sniffed a couple of times. “hey dad” he slowly walked towards her, and he gently sat next to her, putting his hand on her shoulder he muttered “you okay?”

The blonde sitting next to him broke out in sobs, her head fell to his shoulder “oh honey” he breathed as he held her close.

“Abby what’s wrong?” He felt his daughter tremble next to him. “i- I’m keeping her back in life” Abby started, and Jerry just sat and listened to her.

“I’m so old I’m probably going to die soon. Who wants to be married to a grandma? One of these days I won’t be able to get out of bed without complaining. And she’s so pretty and young- she-she deserves everything, and what can I give her? My future dentures?”

“have you ever thought that this is what she wanted?”

Abby lifted her head to what her father said.

“The fact she’s marrying you proves that the love she has for you is endless. She’s willing to look after you when you do get those dentures. She wants you as much as you want her Abby, don’t let your insecurities stop you from being with the love of your life. And yeah, you’ll get old, but she’ll be with you”

☆ Milf Abby who goes to the venue earlier than everyone to make sure everything is ok.

☆ Milf Abby who stood at the altar with sweaty palms, waiting for your arrival.

☆ Milf Abby who started crying as soon as you start walking down the aisle.

 ☆ Milf Abby who couldn’t take her eyes off you the whole ceremony because she realized that this was it. She was marrying you.

☆ Milf Abby who shed more tears than you did during your vows and she cried even more when Aubrey came with the rings.

☆ Milf Abby who practically jumps on you when they said she could kiss you.

You felt her hands grab your face, and she brought you in for a rough kiss.

The crowned screamed around the two of you and you heard the clicks of all the cameras. You felt Abby’s lips smile against yours before she pulled away putting her head against yours.

She whispered “I’ll love you forever”

“I love you too abs, forever and always”

Can we please have yandere Ellie

To Be Near You - ellie williams x reader

hi anon! i wasnt sure if you wanted headcannons or a fic, but lmk if i should do seomething else instead. I hope you enjoy:)

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

requests are open, send me songs or your silly ideas:)

HUGE WARNING: Yandere behavior, obsessive thoughts, emotional manipulation, stalking, slow burn, psychological themes, implied torture, confinement, disturbing intimacy, kidnapping

Summary: Ellie was quiet at first, just watching from the background — protective, helpful, always there. But her interest wasn’t harmless. What began as care turned into control, and slowly, you realized she was never going to let you go. Even when you stopped fighting, her obsession only grew stronger.

masterlist

This story contains dark and emotionally intense themes—please read with care. You are responsible for what you consume online. Please read the warnings before reading.

Ellie didn’t remember when it started—when you became the only person she thought about. Maybe it was that time you sat two rows ahead of her in biology, your head tilted slightly, scribbling so fast in your notebook she thought smoke might rise from the page. Or maybe it was when you laughed at something stupid the professor said, that quiet little snort that made her chest feel too tight.

It didn’t matter. All Ellie knew was that you were hers—even if you didn’t know it yet.

She wasn’t stupid. She didn’t approach you like some lovesick idiot. No, she watched. Observed. She knew your routines down to the minute. Mondays, you always bought the cheap coffee from the cart near the arts building. Wednesdays, you skipped your last class and sat alone under the fig tree near the library with a book in your lap, legs crossed, headphones in. You always listened to that sad indie shit, the kind that made Ellie feel like your soul was a snow globe someone had shaken too hard.

She memorized the curve of your neck when you tied your hair up. The way you rubbed your thumb against your phone case when you were nervous. The way you always said “thank you” to the cleaning staff. You were good. Pure. You didn’t belong in a world like this—surrounded by people who wouldn’t protect you the way Ellie would.

So she started small. A bump in the hallway. An apologetic smile. The “accidental” sighting at your favorite coffee spot. She watched the way your eyes lit up when someone remembered your name. She made sure to say it just loud enough that you’d hear it from behind you in line—like it had only just occurred to her. “Oh, hey, y/n, right?”

You smiled. And Ellie’s obsession twisted tighter.

She told herself she’d wait. That she’d earn your trust. That you’d come to her in time, love her the way she already loved you—desperately, painfully. But every time she saw you talking to someone else, laughing too loud with some guy in class, her hands clenched in her jacket pockets until her nails drew blood.

She followed you home twice. Not close—never too close. She just needed to see. Needed to know you were safe. That no one had touched you. That you were still hers, even if you didn’t realize it yet.

And then came the night she saw you crying on your porch, phone to your ear, voice shaking as you muttered, “It’s just been a lot lately.”

That night, Ellie sat awake in bed until 4 a.m., writing a letter she never sent. She had to be careful. She didn’t want to scare you. Not yet.

But you needed her. You’d always needed her.

And Ellie would wait. Quiet. Patient. Because love like this—raw and unshakable—wasn't something people found in this world anymore.

She just had to make you see it.

The first time Ellie spoke to you, really spoke to you, was when she “accidentally” sat next to you in the library.

You were curled up near the window, highlighters scattered across your table like candy. Your brows were furrowed, a half-finished smoothie sweating beside your laptop. You looked stressed, overwhelmed, and so goddamn beautiful in your chaos that Ellie could hardly breathe.

She slid into the seat beside you like it wasn’t calculated. Like she hadn’t waited for this exact time and day, tracked when you usually studied alone here. Her notebook hit the table with a soft thud, and you looked up, a little surprised.

“Oh… hey,” you said with a polite smile.

Ellie felt the burn of her heart thudding in her throat. “Hey. Sorry, didn’t realize this spot was taken.”

“It’s okay,” you offered quickly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You can sit. I don’t mind.”

Of course you don’t, she thought. You’re so kind. You’d let the devil sit here if he smiled the right way.

She didn’t say anything for a while. Just opened her notebook, pretending to study, even though her eyes flicked to you every other second. She watched the way your pen tapped against your notes. Watched the crease between your brows deepen.

“You look like your brain’s about to melt,” Ellie joked softly.

You laughed — you laughed — and Ellie felt her ribs close in around her lungs.

“Tell me about it,” you sighed. “I have a paper due and like, zero motivation.”

And just like that, the door cracked open. Ellie stepped inside your world with a careful smile.

“I could help, if you want. I’m decent at writing. Got a lot of practice, thanks to Dr. Collins’ essay-from-hell last semester.”

Your eyes lit up in a way that made her throat ache. “Wait — you had Collins? You survived?”

“Barely,” Ellie chuckled. “But yeah. I made it out alive.”

You scooted over just a bit, angling your laptop toward her. “I will accept any and all help. Seriously.”

And that was it. Ellie was in.

She started popping up more — casual run-ins that were anything but accidental. She brought you coffee on the days she knew you had early classes. She left sticky notes on your desk in the library with dumb little jokes. You laughed every time. It was perfect.

But then you started talking about someone. A guy.

A classmate. A friend, you said.

Ellie’s hand clenched around her pen so tight it snapped.

You didn’t notice. You just kept talking, smiling softly, voice floating with affection.

That night, Ellie followed him home.

Just watched from a distance, hoodie up, breath steady despite the adrenaline in her veins. She just needed to know where he lived. Who he was. Whether he was a threat.

And when she saw him ignore your texts, leave you on read for hours, Ellie made her decision.

He wasn’t good enough for you.

She would be patient. But not forever.

You were already hers. She was just taking her time showing you that.

Ellie didn’t sleep for days after she saw your face fall when you mentioned him again — that guy. The one who didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.

She watched as you waited on campus, phone in hand, eyes scanning the crowd. You were standing outside your lecture hall, hands fidgeting with the sleeves of your sweater. You’d dressed nice today — makeup done, hair a little neater than usual.

All for him.

And he didn’t show.

Not until twenty minutes later, slouched and half-interested, offering a sheepish smile and a shrug like that could make up for your disappointment.

You smiled anyway. You always did.

Ellie’s jaw locked. Her breath stayed even. Her eyes didn’t blink.

He’d made you wait. He’d made you feel small.

She followed him home again, but this time she didn’t stay outside.

She waited until the lights in his apartment went dark. Waited until he was alone, headphones in, playing some stupid game on his console. He never even heard her come in.

The first hit wasn’t lethal. A metal pipe to the side of the knee — deliberate, punishing, shattering bone and pride in a single sickening crunch. The scream was immediate, high-pitched and raw.

She shoved him down hard, duct tape already in hand.

“I’m only going to say this once,” she muttered, eyes dark and unshaking. “You don’t talk to her again. You don’t look at her again.”

He gurgled something behind the tape, tears already running down his face.

Ellie leaned in, face inches from his. “You don’t even think about her. Got it?”

She didn’t wait for a reply. She didn’t need one.

Hours passed. Time didn’t matter. The sounds he made were pathetic, and she took her time — slow, cold, efficient. He needed to understand.

When she was done, she left him tied and bloody, tossed across the room like garbage. Alive. Barely. But enough to live in fear.

A message.

A warning.

No police report would follow — she knew his type. Weak. Cowardly. A memory she'd already erased from your life.

The next day, you looked a little confused, almost concerned. You mentioned you hadn’t heard from him.

“He probably ghosted me,” you said, trying to laugh it off. “Wouldn’t be the first time a guy flaked.”

Ellie put a hand gently on your shoulder.

“I don’t think you need someone like that anyway.”

You looked at her, softer than she expected. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “Maybe you’re right.”

You didn’t pull away when she touched your arm. You leaned into her comfort. Into her warmth.

It was working.

Ellie smiled all the way home, blood still under her nails.

You didn’t think much of it when Ellie offered to drive you home that night. You were both on campus, it was dark, cold. And you trusted her to an extent.

It was late, you were tired, and she was already waiting by your car, leaning against it like it was hers. You hesitated — maybe because something in her eyes looked different. But she smiled, soft and familiar, and you told yourself you were being paranoid.

You shouldn’t have gotten in.

The drive started off normal enough. Familiar roads. Ellie humming lowly to a song you used to love. But then she made a turn you didn’t recognize. And then another. You frowned, asked her where she was going. She didn’t answer at first — just tapped the steering wheel and said, “Shortcut.”

You stopped memorizing the turns after a while. There were too many. Too quick. Trees instead of buildings. Darkness instead of streetlights. Your phone? Gone. She'd taken it before you even noticed.

“Ellie, turn around.”

She didn’t. Her knuckles were white on the wheel, jaw tight, eyes forward.

“You’ll be safe now,” she muttered, almost to herself. “Finally.”

Your pulse pounded. You tried the door once — it was locked. The child-lock kind. Her kind.

You never expected it from her. Sweet, quiet Ellie. The one who helped you study, who brought you soup when you were sick. But this Ellie was different — sharper, obsessive, like she'd been waiting to snap.

Eventually, the road ended, and the cabin appeared — old, isolated, deep in the woods where no one could hear you scream. You begged. You reasoned. You cried. But Ellie only looked at you like she’d finally gotten everything she ever wanted.

“You don’t need anyone else,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead as she led you inside. “You have me now.”

The days began to bleed together.

You didn’t know how long you had been in Ellie’s cabin—if you could even call it that. Hidden somewhere deep in the mountains, no cell service, no internet, no roads visible from the windows. Just trees. Endless, quiet trees.

At first, you screamed. You cried. You didn’t eat.

Ellie didn’t punish you for it. She just watched. Quiet. Patient. Like a wolf waiting for a limb to go still so she could safely bite off the infection.

“You’ll feel better if you eat,” she’d whisper. Her voice low, cracked like old vinyl. “I made your favorite. I remember you said it once… back in class. Thought I wasn’t listening, huh?”

She remembered everything.

The chipped nail polish you used to wear. The way your eyes fluttered when you were nervous. The offhanded comments you made about never feeling seen.

“I see you,” she told you one night. And something in her voice made your stomach flip—not in fear. Something… deeper.

You hated that part.

You hated that after four days, your hands stopped shaking every time she opened the door. That on day five, when you cried and she wiped your tears with her thumbs, you didn’t pull away.

“It's okay,” Ellie whispered. “He’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

You wanted to scream that he didn’t hurt you. That Ellie was the only one who ever had. But your voice cracked. And you didn’t want to see that look in her eyes again—the one that was both love and danger, stitched into the same grin.

She started brushing your hair.

“I used to imagine this,” she murmured. “You, right here. Safe. Close to me.”

Her hands were gentle. Too gentle. As if afraid you'd break.

“You’re learning to trust me now, aren’t you?”

You didn’t answer. But your head leaned ever so slightly into her touch.

That night, she let you out of the room for the first time. Not outside—never outside—but into her world. Books. Sketches. Maps marked with little red Xs.

“This is everything I built… for you.”

There was a soft bed in the corner. New sheets. Lavender scented.

“You can sleep here tonight,” she said, fingers brushing your lower back. “Closer to me.”

And you did.

It wasn't trust. Not really. Maybe exhaustion. Maybe your mind, frayed from isolation. But when Ellie wrapped her arms around you under the thick quilt, and whispered “you’re mine” against your hair, something inside you cracked.

Not a break.

A splinter.

You stopped counting the days.

There was no point. No clocks, no sunlight. Just the quiet hum of Ellie’s voice when she read to you at night. The sound of her boots on the wooden floor. The soft clink of silverware she set down with each careful meal.

There was something peaceful about it—if you didn’t think too hard.

You had screamed. Begged. Raged. And still, she had stayed. Never yelling. Never raising her hand. Just watching. Waiting.

Now, you didn’t scream.

You didn’t fight when she helped you bathe. When she dried your hair with a towel that smelled like pine and her.

You didn’t flinch when she kissed your cheek and whispered, “Good girl.”

She’d reward you when you were obedient. More time out of the room. A book. A blanket from home. A drawing of you she spent hours perfecting—eyes too soft, mouth too sad.

"You’re safer now,” she murmured one night, tracing your collarbone with her fingertips. “You don’t have to run anymore.”

You didn’t answer. Because she was right. There was nowhere to run. Not anymore.

The turning point wasn’t loud. It didn’t come with violence. It came with a whisper. A flicker. A moment where you looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize the fear in your eyes anymore.

You saw her.

Ellie.

All-consuming. Ever-present. Everything.

So when she curled into bed beside you that night, wrapping her arms around your waist and burying her face into the crook of your neck, you let her.

You didn’t close your eyes right away. You stared at the wooden beams above. You breathed with her. Matched her rhythm.

"I knew you’d come around,” she said softly. “I just had to be patient. You were always mine. You just didn’t know it yet.”

You didn’t cry. You didn’t flinch.

You just let her hold you, let her hand find yours, let her whisper love into your skin like it was salvation, not damnation.

In the morning, she painted your nails. Brushed your hair with a comb she’d carved your name into. Called you her wife.

You didn’t correct her. What was the point?

She kissed your temple.

“You’re perfect now,” Ellie said. “Exactly how I dreamed you’d be.”

And in her green eyes—those bright, haunting eyes—you saw it:

Obsession disguised as love. Love tainted with control.

And you?

You were no longer a prisoner. You were a possession.

And slowly—terrifyingly—you were starting to want to be.

The cabin was warm. Not just in temperature, but in the way Ellie moved through it like it was a home you built together.

Your toothbrush sat next to hers now. She’d written your name on a tag and tied it with twine.

There was a mug on the counter—chipped and faded—that said “World’s Best Wife.” You weren’t sure where she found it. You didn’t ask.

You never asked anymore. Ellie called it your honeymoon phase.

She woke you gently every morning with kisses to your shoulder. She cooked, always your favorite dishes—eggs, tomatoes, sourdough bread, strawberries. She pulled your chair out at the table and watched you eat like it was her reward for every horrible thing she'd done to bring you here.

You weren’t chained anymore. But the door was always locked.

You didn’t try it anymore, not since the last time—when she’d found you standing in the kitchen, your hand hovering over the doorknob, and her voice had gone cold in that way that turned your bones to ice.

“You’re not thinking of leaving me,” she’d said, stepping closer. “Not after everything I’ve done for you. Right, baby?”

You had nodded. Fast. Too fast. She forgave you. But not without consequence.

That night, she didn’t let you out of bed—not even for water. She held you tight, almost bruising, whispered how much it scared her to think of you gone. How she’d die without you. How she’d kill for you.

You believed her. You still did.

Now, she was too happy.

She sang while she cooked. Danced with you in the living room, hands firm on your waist, eyes never blinking. She kissed your forehead too long. Said things like “I love you more every second,” and “You don’t need anyone else. Just me.”

You nodded every time.

And yet… something in her had started to snap again.

It was little things at first. The silence when you mentioned your old life. The way her jaw clenched when you looked too long at the photo of your family she’d allowed you to keep.

Then came the photos. The ones she took of you while you were asleep. Hundreds of them.

Piled in boxes. Taped to the walls of a room you weren’t allowed to enter until she “surprised” you one night.

“I just love you so much,” she breathed, showing you the shrine. “I had to make something that felt like you were everywhere.”

You had smiled. You didn’t know what else to do.

But the worst came next.

She came back from town covered in blood.

You had asked—trembling, afraid, already knowing.

And Ellie… she didn’t lie.

“He kept asking about you,” she said. “Your ex. The one who used to text. I couldn’t have that, baby. I won’t let them take you from me.”

She cupped your cheek with her bloodied hand, eyes soft, voice like silk.

“I did it for us.”

You didn’t scream. You didn’t cry.

Because in your heart, that last thread of resistance had snapped.

You realized something then:

You weren’t staying because you were trapped.

You were staying because this was the only place her love made sense anymore.

Twisted. Devoted. Terrifying.

But yours.

Pls my wife may we get some desperate lesbian content about friend (wife) reader ignoring abby after what she did to joel because she was scared, so abby just gets all teary eyed and just starts to try to please her sexually

What We Bury in Silence - abby anderson x reader

pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

requests are open again! send me your silly thoughts:)

warnings: MDNI 18+ Explicit sexual content (fingering r receiving), themes of trauma and grief, emotional and psychological tension, references to violence and loss (Joel’s death), guilt, anger, and forgiveness struggles, raw emotional vulnerability and confession

summary: You and Abby were close—more than friends, though no one dared to say it aloud. But after Joel's death, you went quiet. Abby thought you'd never forgive her. That silence breaks one night when guilt, rage, and buried desire finally ignite.

masterlist

This story contains sexual content—please read with care. You are responsible for what you consume online.

You hadn’t said a word to her in weeks. Not since Jackson. Not since the blood. Not since you found out what she did.

Abby thought she'd be ready for the aftermath—Joel’s face haunting her dreams, her name spat like venom in town. But your silence? That hit deeper than any wound she’d ever taken.

You avoided her at base. Eyes down. Steps sharp. Not a glance. Not even hatred—just absence. It made her sick.

She knocked tonight anyway.

“Just talk to me,” Abby said through your door, voice low and wrecked. “Please.”

Nothing.

Abby stood there for minutes. She turned to leave—then froze when the door clicked open behind her.

Your eyes met. And it was like the air shattered. You were still wearing his jacket.

“Why are you here?” you asked, voice even but barely holding together.

Abby swallowed hard. “I didn’t come for a fight. I just…” Her voice cracked. “I miss you.”

You didn’t speak. Just stepped aside. Let her in like a storm you were too tired to fight.

She lingered by the table, arms stiff by her sides. “You won’t look at me,” she said. “You won’t yell. Won’t curse me out. Just… nothing.”

You sat on the couch. “What do you want from me, Abby?”

The name was a blade on your tongue.

She moved closer—slow, uncertain. “I want to explain.”

You let her. And she told you everything. Her dad. The Fireflies. Joel’s choice. Her own rage. When she finished, the silence was worse than before.

You stood. Crossed the room. She flinched when your hand brushed her cheek.

“I hate what you did,” you whispered. “I hate that I still want you.”

And something in her shattered.

The first kiss was desperate—salted with tears, teeth, regret. You shoved her back against the wall, hands tangling in her hair, lips fierce and unforgiving.

Abby groaned, fingers digging into your waist like she was scared you’d disappear. You bit her lip hard. She moaned.

“This doesn’t fix anything,” you hissed.

“I know,” she breathed, eyes dark. “But let me try anyway.”

You didn’t stop her when she sank to her knees. She tugged your pants down slowly, reverently, like she was asking for permission with every touch.

“I’m sorry,” she said against your inner thigh. “I’d take it back if I could. I’d undo all of it.”

You didn’t answer, but you didn’t push her away either. Her mouth was soft. Skilled. Every flick of her tongue was a plea for forgiveness.

You gasped, fisting her hair, thighs trembling.

“Fuck—Abby—”

She moaned at the sound of her name. You could feel her trembling too. She didn’t stop until you were wrecked—legs shaking, breath gone, body arched against the guilt and the heat between you.

And when you pulled her up and kissed her again, she cried into your mouth. You dragged her to bed. Tore her clothes off. Took your time making her fall apart—over and over again.

The air was thick with sweat, shame, and the unspoken truth that this might never be enough.

But it was something. It was real.

You woke tangled in her arms, her face buried in your neck like she couldn’t bear to let you go. You watched the sunrise in silence.

Then finally, softly: “I still don’t forgive you.”

Abby nodded against your skin. “I know.”

You turned to face her, touched her jaw.

“But I think I want to try.”

Nora told you exactly what she did. The brutality. The violence. You were disgusted despite knowing why she did it.

You don’t want to let her in. Not really. But the moment the door clicks shut behind you, every sharp edge of your silence softens—just a little.

She stands there, all tension and regret, like she’s trying to hold herself together for both of you. Maybe she’s the only one doing any holding right now.

“I didn’t come to make it worse,” Abby says, voice low, raw. “I just need you to hear me.”

You look away. “You don’t get to ask that. Not after everything.”

Her eyes flick down. “I know. I’m sorry. More than you can imagine.”

"You killed a girl's father Infront of her. You made her watch"

"He killed my dad"

Something twists inside you. You want to yell, to tell her to leave. But you just swallow and keep looking at the floor.

“I hate what you did,” you finally say, voice steady but cold. “And I hate that I still want you. It makes me sick.”

Abby’s breath catches. She takes a step closer, but you don’t flinch.

“why are you still here?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

She swallows, eyes searching yours like she’s trying to find a place to land. “Because I’m not ready to lose you.”

You don’t move. You don’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing you crack. But inside, the walls are trembling.

“Why should I believe you?” you whisper, voice rough like gravel. “After everything you did, everything you took from her? Violence doesn't solve anything”

She steps closer, and you feel the heat of her breath. “Because I’m drowning in the same guilt. I carry it every second. Joel’s face, your silence... I don’t deserve you.”

You close your eyes for a moment, swallowing the lump in your throat. The truth is, you’ve missed her—the way she looked at you, fierce and broken all at once. But that only makes the ache worse.

“Maybe I want to hate you,” you admit, voice barely audible. “Maybe I want you to hurt like I do.”

Abby’s hands reach out slowly, trembling. “Then let me in. Let me be the reason you don’t have to carry it alone.”

Your heart is pounding, a wild, desperate rhythm that betrays your cold words. You push her hand away, but your body betrays you—your fingers twitch, wanting to touch her.

Her lips brush your neck, soft and tentative, and the ache spirals into something darker, something desperate.

You catch her mouth with yours, rough and urgent, like you’re trying to reclaim the pieces of yourself she holds hostage. Your hands thread through her hair, pulling her closer as your lips clash.

The taste of her—salt and something bittersweet—makes your knees weak. You break the kiss, gasping. “This doesn’t fix anything,” you choke out.

Abby’s voice is a whisper against your skin. “No. But maybe it’s a start.”

Her hands explore, tentative but hungry, trailing under your shirt like she’s memorizing every inch. You let go of some of the bitterness, the anger. Let the heat flood in and drown the cold for just a moment.

And when she sinks to her knees, the guilt and desire twist into a single, fierce need that can’t be denied.

Your breath hitches as she lowers herself, hands trembling but steady, like she’s asking for forgiveness with every touch. You don’t stop her—not because you forgive her yet, but because a part of you aches for this connection, this dangerous comfort.

Her mouth finds your skin, soft and worshipful, tracing a path that burns and soothes at the same time. You close your eyes, biting your lip to hold back a shudder.

“I don’t deserve this,” you whisper, voice rough.

Her hands clutch your hips tighter. “Maybe not. But I need this. Need you.”

You grip the back of her head, pulling her closer, desperate for something real in the chaos of guilt and rage. Her tongue flicks against your skin, and it’s like a spark igniting a wildfire beneath your ribs. You’re trembling, torn between pushing her away and pulling her deeper.

When she finally parts your clothing, her fingers brush over your skin like a promise — fragile but fierce. You gasp, caught between shame and want.

“Please,” she breathes, voice thick with need and regret.

You tremble but don’t say no.

Her mouth moves with reverence, worshipping every inch, every scar, every broken piece. You’re lost in the sensation, in the desperate heat that roars through you.

Your hands clutch her hair, pulling her up into a harsh, ragged kiss.

“I’m scared,” you confess, voice breaking. “Scared that I’ll never be okay. That I’ll never forgive.”

She kisses you harder. “Then I’ll keep fighting. For you. For us.”

The room hums with tension, desire, and the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, you can find a way through the wreckage — together.

Your breath is ragged, heart pounding like it wants to break free from your chest. Every touch from Abby feels like fire and ice all at once—burning away the walls you built, but freezing the parts of you that still ache with pain. You pull back slightly, eyes searching hers, desperate for something to hold onto.

“I’ve been so angry,” you whisper, voice raw and cracked. “Angry at you, at him, at myself. Angry because I thought if I stayed furious, I could protect what’s left of me.”

Her hands tremble as they cup your face. “I never wanted to take that from you. I wanted to be the one you could lean on, even if you didn’t believe it.”

Tears sting your eyes. You don’t wipe them away. Letting them fall feels like admitting you’re human—broken, hurting, but still here.

“I hate what you did,” you confess, voice breaking, “but I hate carrying this anger even more. It’s like poison, and I’m tired of being sick.”

Abby leans in, her lips brushing yours with such gentleness it makes your chest ache. “Then let me help you heal. Let me be the cure, even if it takes forever.”

You close your eyes and let yourself believe it—for just a moment, you let the weight of the past fall away.

When you open them again, you’re quiet but sure.

“I forgive you,” you say, barely above a whisper. “Not because it’s easy. Not because I forget. But because I don’t want this anger to own me anymore.”

Abby’s breath catches. She pulls you close, arms wrapping around you like she’s never letting go.

In that moment, broken and whole all at once, you realize forgiveness isn’t a clean slate. It’s a choice. A hard, painful, beautiful choice to let go and try again.

And you’re ready to take it.

The morning light filters softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room where you lie tangled in Abby’s arms. It’s quiet, but it’s not empty anymore.

You trace lazy circles on her back, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breath. The weight of yesterday’s confessions still lingers, but it’s lighter now—less a burden, more a fragile thread holding you both together.

You don’t pretend the past is gone. You know the scars remain, invisible to others but etched deep inside. But for the first time, those scars don’t feel like walls. They feel like part of the map—proof of how far you’ve come.

Abby shifts, resting her forehead against yours. “Thank you,” she murmurs.

You smile softly, heart swelling with something you thought was lost—hope.

“Thank you for not giving up.”

You don’t know what the future holds. Maybe there will be more pain, more fights, more moments where forgiveness feels impossible.

But right now, wrapped in this fragile peace, you decide it’s enough.

It’s enough to try. To live. To heal.

Together.

can you talk more about ellie’s grading and the feedback she gives? i wanna know how intellectual she is insane iq core 💔💔💔

Headcannons: professor!ellie williams x reader

masterlist

professor ellie masterlist

☆ Ellie uses red pens exclusively—not out of malice, but because she thinks it forces you to really see yourself. Her notes aren’t just critiques, they’re personal. “You know this theory, stop playing small” scrawled in the margins feels more like a confession than advice.

☆ She’s the professor everyone is a little scared of until they actually talk to her. Intense in lecture, terrifyingly smart—but she softens when she talks one-on-one. Her voice lowers, her eyes track yours as if she’s cataloguing your brain. She listens like your thoughts matter.

☆ If she sees potential in you, your returned paper ends up looking like a co-written piece. Whole blocks of her handwriting argue or build on your points, sometimes more verbose than your actual body paragraphs.

☆ Her most devastating feedback is always kind. “You hesitated here—why?” or “Don’t dilute a brilliant argument to make it sound ‘acceptable’.” You leave her office hours feeling like you just got psychoanalyzed and inspired.

☆ You notice she always returns your papers last. When you joke about it, she just says, “Yours require more... attention.” Her gaze lingers too long after. You think maybe she’s memorizing your arguments—or your face.

☆ You show up early. She pretends to be annoyed but always saves your favorite chair. Sometimes you catch her looking at your hands while you talk. She taps her pen when she’s holding back something.

☆ “Your phrasing here? Lethal. That’s how you cut through academic fluff.” It’s high praise from Ellie, but it feels like she’s talking about more than your essay.

☆ You don’t know this, but the first time you absolutely killed a complex theory with original thought, she kept a copy. She rereads it sometimes when she’s stuck in her own writing. She’d never tell you—but it’s annotated in the margins with her own thoughts. Like a conversation.

☆ She’ll slide your graded paper toward you and say, “Nice work,” before walking off. You find a sticky note inside later that says:

“Your logic here is brutal. You’d make a terrifying debater. You should come to my next seminar. If you're free.”

☆ If you ever push back on one of her comments (politely), she’ll go silent for a beat too long. Then she’ll smirk, lean back in her chair, and say, “Fair point.” But you catch the flush on her neck.

☆ When you lend her a book you love, she gives it back full of tabs and handwritten notes. Her handwriting shifts depending on emotion: neat when she agrees, sharp when she’s frustrated, small and slanted when something hit her too hard.

☆ She reads between the lines—not just in your essays, but in how you speak. If your writing suddenly lacks fire, she’ll ask, “What happened to your voice?” with more concern than she lets on.

☆ She has a private Spotify playlist titled after your most compelling paper. It’s full of moody, ambient instrumentals that make her think of you pacing a library aisle.

☆ Gives You Optional Extra Assignments That Are Secretly Dates “Analyze this journal article if you want... I’ll be in my office at 6.” She gives you wine after hours and calls it a discussion session.

☆ She never says it aloud, but in her mind, she calls you “Bright girl” or “My sharp one.” Sometimes those almost slip out.

☆ Has a Folder of Your Work. Digitally and physically. Not just because you’re a good student, but because she thinks you're one of the most important thinkers she's taught. It’s her little shrine.

☆ Can't Hide Her Pride When You Speak in Class. Even when she’s trying to stay composed, her eyes flicker with excitement when you raise your hand. Sometimes she smirks when you quote her back to herself.

☆ Touches Her Lip When She Reads Your Work. She doesn’t notice she does this. But whenever a line of yours punches through her, she’ll sit back, pen to her mouth, eyebrows slightly raised, like she’s just been got.

☆ Notices Your Scent. Once, you leaned over her desk and the smell of your perfume clung to her sweater. She wore it again the next day—“by accident.”

☆ You once mentioned a quote from a female philosopher you admire, and Ellie responded a little too coldly. Later you found your copy of that author’s book in her office—full of her annotations. She's studying your mind through what you love.

☆ Writes Feedback That’s Basically Poetry. Sometimes her comments feel like verses. “You bent truth until it screamed—good. Now own it.” You don’t know if she’s flirting or just brilliant.

☆ You Catch Her Staring at You During Lectures. She’ll be mid-lecture and pause just a second too long on you. It makes your stomach flip. She always looks away first.

☆ Hates Giving You Anything Below an A. If your work ever slips, she spends forever writing the feedback. It pains her to mark you down—but she refuses to baby you. You’d never respect her if she did.

☆ Has Dreams About Debating You. Sometimes she jolts awake after a dream where you out-argued her in front of a whole academic panel. She was proud and a little turned on.

☆ Knows Your Favorite Pen. She keeps a matching one in her desk drawer. She says it’s coincidence. It’s not.

☆ She’s the Only One Allowed to Critique You. If someone else in class makes a dismissive comment about your work, Ellie will eviscerate them—politely, devastatingly. You leave class blushing. They leave in silence.

☆ She Has Your Writing Style Memorized. If someone read her a passage of your work out loud, she’d know it was yours immediately—by cadence, syntax, and how you handle commas like you’re carving something open.

☆ Her Voice Softens When She Says Your Name. Even when she’s frustrated or passionate, your name is the one word that always comes out gentle. A pause in a storm.

☆ Writes You Into Her Lectures. Without naming you, she’ll quote your paper in front of the class. “A student once said something that stuck with me…” She knows you know it’s you.

☆ She’d Risk Her Career for You. She hasn't yet. But she’s thought about it. Late at night, with one of your essays open in her lap, wondering if knowing someone’s mind this intimately should feel like falling.

Headcannons: Milf!abby anderson x reader (part 2)

Part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

☆ Milf Abby who tries really hard to talk to you but you’re making it so fucking difficult.

☆ Milf Abby who tries calling, texting, literally all forms of communication but you leave her on read and you don’t even pick up.

☆ Milf Abby who’s frustrated but she knows she deserves it.

☆ Milf Abby who wakes up one morning to see you sent her a text.

With shaky hands she clicked on the message. The simple text read 4 words:

“me, you this Friday?”

Abby blinked, and she sat in silence for a while.

Holy shit this was happening.

She responded with a simple “ok ill pick you up at six”.

☆ Milf Abby who jumps up from her bed and yells “I got the girl!” But soon regrets it when Aubrey walks in and tells her to shut up.

☆ Milf Abby who was on cloud nine all week.

☆ Milf Abby who tells her coworkers about the pretty girl she’s going on a date with on Friday.

☆ Milf Abby who smiles at you, when she picks up Aubrey, and her heart feels like it could explode when you give her a little wave.

☆ Milf Abby who asks Aubrey what your favorite color is because she wants to wear an outfit in that color, because she read in an article it’ll increase her chances.

“C’mon baby tell me” Abby groaned.

“Give me chocolate first”

Abby’s jaw dropped.  “Aubrey its 9pm, you know you can’t eat chocolate at this time”

“No chocolate, no color”

Abby let out a sigh as she walked out of Aubrey’s room to her secret chocolate stash. She pulled out a chocolate bar, and she gave it to the little girl. Aubrey immediately opened the bar and she took a big bite.

“ok talk”

“she likes green” Aubrey spoke with a mouth full of chocolate.

☆ Milf Abby who takes her daughter to bed, and orders a custom suit in green.

☆ Milf Abby who goes to work the next day and finds out they hired someone new.

“Who is he?” she asked while looking at Nora.

“I don’t know man”

“as long as she doesn’t break my record”

Nora rolled her eyes “of course he won’t abs, you’ve won the most cases in this whole firm”

☆ Milf Abby who tenses when she sees who was hired.

☆ Milf Abby who felt sick when he walked towards her.

“hi I’m- “

“heaters dad”

“Yeah” he chuckled “my name is actually Jason”

“I’m Abby”

The air was tense.

“what do you want dude” Abby said irritated.

“Look are you and the new teacher together?” He asked. Abby felt her eye twitch at his question.

“It’s none of your business”

☆ Milf Abby who thought her week was ruined, but when she got home her suit had arrived.

☆ Milf Abby who almost pees herself on Friday morning because today is the day.

☆ Milf Abby who takes the day off to get away from Jason and to relax.

☆ Milf Abby who spends hours on Pintrest to look for the perfect hairstyle.

☆ Milf Abby who’s ready by 3 in the afternoon.

☆ Milf Abby who asks Aubrey and her dad how she looks before she walks out.

“So how do I look?” she watched her dad smile at her.

“you look perfect Abby”

“now go get your girl!” she heard Aubrey yell.

☆ Milf Abby who made you a bracelet, and flowers out of paper.

☆ Milf Abby who sees Jason’s car outside the school.

☆ Milf Abby whose heart shatters when she hears your conversation.

“I’m going on a date with Abby” she heard your voice.

“Isn’t she too old for you? She’s in her 40s isn’t she?”

“what does age have to with anything?”

“she’s old”

yeah she was.

fuck, Abby knew too old. She didn’t even stay to listen to the conversation.

Abby ran out the school and she sobbed in her car. She should’ve know this would never work.

If only she stayed behind to hear how you defended her. If only she waited for you.

☆ Milf Abby who came home crying.

“Mommy what’s wrong- “Abby walked right past her daughter

“it’s ok let her go” she heard her dad say.

☆ Milf Abby who fell asleep crying.

☆ Milf Abby who wakes up with multiple texts from you.

“Hey where are you?”

“Abby?”

“are you ok?”

“I’m waiting for you”

“I’m home now”

“did you change your mind”

“Abby?”

With a shaky breath Abby blocked your number.

☆ Milf Abby who ignores your existence once again.

☆ Milf Abby who sees you smiling at her, but she just nods back at you.

☆ Milf Abby who tells you have no future together.

Aubrey climbed into the car, and before Abby could drive away she heard a knock on her window. It was you.

“Hey” Abby said after lowering the window.

“Hi Abby- “

“call me Mrs. Anderson” she watched as your face dropped.

You cleared your throat “I’m sorry Mrs. Anderson, I just wanted to ask what happened the other night?”

“I realized that this wasn’t going to work”

“why?”

“because you’re too young. I need someone more mature”

“Oh”

Abby could feel the sadness radiating off you.

“You should go for someone your own age”

“Ok Mrs. Anderson, I understand. Thank you for your time”

☆ Milf Abby who feels bad after her daughter calls her stupid.

☆ Milf Abby who makes a realization by the help of her daughter.

“You made my teacher sad”

“Aubrey I don’t care stop telling me- “

“you do care. I see the way you look at her” Abby sighed at her daughter’s answers.

She does care. She downloaded social media to stalk you. She stared learning internet slang for you.

“Heathers dad said that he wants to ask her on a date-”

“what?”

“I heard him say that he’s going to ask her out but then I said no because you wanted to go on a date with her”

Then it clicked.

He was there that day to cause trouble.

fuck.

He wanted to get into Abby’s head. And he did. He started working at Abby’s law firm to watch her. To figure out her moves. Her weaknesses.

He must’ve heard her and Nora talk about the age gap. She made a mistake.

☆ Milf Abby who runs to unblock your number and calls you.

☆ Milf Abby who felt like she could cry when you didn’t pick up.

☆ Milf Abby who whimpers your name when you eventually pick up the phone.

“what do you want Mrs. Anderson?”

“No look I made a mistake, please listen- “

“you can’t keep doing this….You say you like me then you ghost me- I’m sick of your shit Abby”

“look I heard Jason say that you deserve someone younger- “

“well maybe I do”

Abby went quite at that.

You spoke up again: “I need someone who’s mature, someone who can communicate but what do I know Abby I’m immature, am I not? Because apparently you know what that maturity means”

“Please” she sighed.

“Please I’m begging you” Abby begged again.

The line went quite for a while.

“Come to my class tomorrow so we can talk”

☆ Milf Abby who goes to work the next day and she goes to Jason’s office.

☆ Milf Abby who confronts him, and almost beats the shit out of him when he calls her a grandma.

☆ Milf Abby who gets into trouble but it was worth it.

☆ Milf Abby who goes to your class later that day.

She watched as you sat behind your desk. “Sit” you commanded and she did.

☆ Milf Abby who tells you the whole story.

“sorry won’t cut it Abby, you said the same thing the last time”

“Just because he said that doesn’t mean you have the right to ghost me”

“I’m sorry”

“Look just one more chance please”

“why should I trust you?”

“because I’m me”

You rolled your eyes at Abby’s response.

Abby reached out to grab your head, and your head snapped in the direction of you interlocked fingers.

“words mean nothing” you spoke.

“just trust me please and-” but before she could finish you leaned in to kiss her.

It was slow, passionate, and it was filled with so much love. Abby pulled away, only to get up and walk to side of the desk where you sat. She went on knees and she and put her hands on your waist. The two of you started at each other.

“Fuck” she breathed before you kissed her again.

☆ Milf Abby who jumps up when she heard Aubrey yell “ew!”

☆ Milf Abby who was really embarrassed.

☆ Milf Abby who turned as red as a tomato, she felt like a teenager being caught in the act.

“Why did you go on your knees?” you asked, still heavily breathing.

“it’s a way of showing submission” she shrugs.

“I’m trying to show you that you have me, despite our age difference” Abby explained.

“I’d let you do anything to me” she confessed.

☆ Milf Abby who goes home that night and smile the whole time.

☆ Milf Abby who keeps touching her lips, because yours were there.

☆ Milf Abby who apologizes to Aubrey for seeing such an act.

“It’s ok” the little girl reassured her.

“Now go get her before Heathers dad does”

☆ Milf Abby who shows up to school the next day to bring you lunch.

☆ Milf Abby who spells out the words “May i be your girlfriend?” with different fruit in the lunch box. All you did was smile at the sight.

☆ Milf Abby who was chewing her nails, waiting for your response.

“This is very romantic Anderson” you spoke. She watched as you but the lunch box on the table, you walked towards her.

“Get on your knees Abby” and she did so immediately.

“Why?” she asked while being on her knees.

“you’re too tall, I can’t kiss you when you’re standing”

The two of you shared a quick kiss.

“So is it a yes?” Abby asked, her lips inches away from yours.

“Yeah”

“Fuck yes” she breathed as she got up, picking you up and placing you on your desk. The two of you shared another kiss before you pulled away.

“Promise me something”

“What?”

“No more ghosting”

“yes ma’am”

“you’ll tell me if you feel insecure”

“yes”

“and one more thing Abby”

“what?”

“you aren’t too old for me. I like my women mature” you added as you wrapped your arms around her neck. Abby chuckled.

☆ Milf Abby who wanted to kiss you again before she heard your daughter yell “fucking finally” as she stood at the door.

“Who taught you that word?”

“grandpa did”

“of course he did”

☆ Milf Abby who was the happiest women ever, since that moment.

☆ Milf Abby who knew you were the one.

☆ Milf Abby who already goes wedding ring shopping and who plans your future together despite only dating you for 2 days at that point.  

My pookies (the tag list): @mousymaven @lia-winther @zombholic

Headcannons: professor!ellie williams x reader

masterlist

professor ellie masterlist

☆ Ellie knows she’s going to marry you long before she tells you. She buys the ring three months into living together. Keeps it hidden in her desk drawer beside annotated books and letters from you.

☆ She proposes on the floor of your shared office. Not at a dinner, not with a crowd—just soft music, ink-stained fingers, and a whispered: “Be my always. My only. My mind, my muse, my wife.”

☆ The ring is engraved with a quote from your writing. Not hers. Yours. "You make knowledge feel like coming home."

☆ She asks your opinion on “proposals in literature” a week before. You think she’s researching. She’s just trying not to cry at the idea of you saying yes.

☆ When you say yes, she buries her face in your neck and shakes. Not from nerves. From relief. From awe. From the raw ache of being loved back.

☆ She starts referring to you as “my fiancée” constantly. In grocery stores. On campus. During panels. “My fiancée’s theory on this is actually quite relevant…”

☆ She changes your contact name to “Almost My Wife.” With 3 hearts and a lock emoji.

☆ She sleeps with her hand resting over yours every night. On your ring finger. She checks it like it’s her most sacred relic.

☆ She updates her entire academic bio to include you. “Currently lives with her partner, her muse, and greatest intellectual influence.”

☆ She teaches a lecture titled: “The Intersection of Intimacy and Intellectual Devotion” She’s talking about you. The class has no idea.

☆ Ellie wants a tiny wedding—just you, the vows, and a quiet lake. But if you want more, she’ll plan a thousand-guest celebration without blinking. “You say the word and I’ll build the world for you.”

☆ She insists on writing her vows by hand. In her favorite pen. On pages she slips under your pillow the night before.

☆ She practices saying “wife” alone in her car. Wife. Wife. Wife. She can’t stop smiling.

☆ She hides love notes inside the wedding checklist binder. You find one labeled: “Stop reading this and come kiss your future.”

☆ When you choose your dress, she sketches you in it from memory that same night. Adds it to her journal. Dates it. “The day I saw her and forgot how to breathe.”

☆ Her friends throw her a chill night in. But she sneaks off to call you every hour. “I can’t even pretend to want to be anywhere you’re not.”

☆ You write each other letters to read before the ceremony. She cries through hers. Has to reapply mascara. Still keeps the tear-streaked one folded in her breast pocket.

☆ She makes a playlist of songs that remind her of your earliest days. Plays it while getting ready. One track in, she’s sitting down, hand over heart, whispering: “Holy shit. I’m marrying her.”

☆ She starts dreaming of your last name beside hers on academic papers. No hyphen. No division. Just unity.

☆ You give her a watch as a pre-wedding gift. She whispers: “I’ll count every second I get with you.”

☆ When you walk down the aisle, Ellie mouths “mine.” Once. Quiet. Like a prayer.

☆ She cries when you hold her hands. Not one tear. A whole storm. Her lips tremble when you say her name.

☆ Her vows start academic and crumble into desperation. “I thought I understood devotion—until you. You rewrote me. I’m yours now. Completely.”

☆ Her fingers shake when she slips the ring on yours. But her voice never falters: “With this, I give you everything.”

☆ She kisses you like no one is watching. It’s not performative. It’s urgent. She’s been waiting forever.

☆ She refers to you as her wife every chance she gets. Out loud. On paper. In conversation. She beams every time.

☆ She can’t stop touching the ring on your hand. Kisses it. Spins it. Holds it during dinner. “Still feels like a dream.”

☆ She hangs your wedding photo above her desk. Right beside her degrees. “My greatest achievement.”

☆ She uses your wedding date as her new password. She’ll never forget it. She couldn’t.

☆ She journals the first 365 days of your marriage. Every little thing. Every breakfast. Every smile. Every time you say her name like it means everything.

☆ She changes her legal name just to have part of yours. No one expected it. But she wanted it.

☆She introduces herself at lectures as “Dr. Ellie Williams—but more importantly, a wife.” Every time. Her proudest title.

☆ She builds a library with your last name engraved at the entrance. It’s her gift to the university. Her devotion in bricks.

☆ She keeps a framed note that says “You said yes.” Next to the ring box. Beside her bed.

☆ When you fall asleep first, she whispers: “Married you. Won.”

☆ She keeps your wedding vows on her desk at all times. Reads them when she feels lost.

☆ She starts calling you “my forever” in texts. Even to herself. Especially when you're not around.

☆ She wears her ring when she lectures. And if she forgets it? She’ll cancel class. That’s how wrong it feels.

☆ She celebrates every mini-anniversary. First date, first kiss, first “I love you.” “Why wouldn’t we honor our history?”

☆ Her phone background is a photo of your hand in hers. Wedding rings shining. Sunlight catching on your fingers.

☆ She saves every note you leave her, even grocery lists. “Married girl handwriting,” she says with a grin. She signs every card, “your wife, your fool, your scholar.”

☆ When she wins awards, she thanks you before anyone. “For keeping my soul fed while I chase knowledge.”

☆ She keeps your last name on her lips like a spell. Soft. Reverent. Yours.

☆ She reads your vows aloud every year on your anniversary. Her voice always cracks by the second paragraph.

☆ She builds you a bench at the lake where you married. With a plaque that reads: “Where I became hers.”

☆ She keeps your bouquet dried and shadow-boxed in her office. Next to a note: “Every day since has been full bloom.”

☆ She still asks you to dance in the kitchen. Same song. Same rhythm. Same girl.

☆ She rereads the proposal letters every winter. Wears your old hoodie and says: “Still can’t believe.”

☆ And when she’s asked what love is, she says: “It’s when you look at someone and think: If I never wrote again, I’d still have said everything I ever needed—just by choosing her.”

Will we ever get to know you? Like a face reveal, where you're from (you mentioned you live in Africa once) what it's like??? I've been following you since 2023, I love you sm

You're a very mysterious figure😭

In all honesty, I have thought about it. I've wanted to share a little more about myself but I'm not sure people would really care lmao.

I even have a series in my drafts based off one of the many languages in the country I grew up in (I'm in Nambia btw) but I'm too scared😭

Maybe if there's enough people interested in reading that or, maybe people wanna see more of me I can do/post it because I deadass want to.... but it's what my pookies want at the end of the day. Imagine wanting a Ellie fic and here you see my ugly ass face

But for now, I'll keep posting fics:)

Ellie Williams Masterlist

main masterlist

about me!

Stories˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

- drunk running: You and Ellie have always been a storm—chaotic, coiled tightly, unspoken things woven into the silence between glances. One night, everything boils over. Fueled by alcohol, memory, and all the words neither of you ever had the guts to say sober, you're both forced to confront the version of love you’ve built: broken, frantic, desperate.

- look at us now: Caught between a turbulent past with Ellie and a slowly blossoming future with Abby, you're forced to confront everything you thought you knew about love, loyalty, and healing.

- under her desk: You're her secretary—organized, polite, and always on time. She's the boss—cold, brilliant, and merciless. But every glance from Ellie lingers too long. Every touch burns. And every closed-door meeting gets harder to forget.

- to be near you: Ellie was quiet at first, just watching from the background — protective, helpful, always there. But her interest wasn’t harmless. What began as care turned into control, and slowly, you realized she was never going to let you go. Even when you stopped fighting, her obsession only grew stronger.

- the things we do in the dark: A late-night confession turns into something neither of you can take back. In the quiet moments between guilt and longing, you and Ellie finds yourself crossing a line — again and again — in the shadows of a relationship that was never meant to be theirs.

- don't take her from me: Ellie’s always had control—until someone threatens to take the one person she can’t live without

- she: When Ellie starts watching her a little too closely, it’s hard to tell where curiosity ends and obsession begins. What begins as quiet glances and subtle tension quickly turns into something darker—something neither of them fully understands, but both feel deeply.

- when the quiet breaks: Ellie Williams is living a peaceful life on the farmhouse with you—the woman who convinced her not to chase revenge. For a while, things feel almost perfect. But the past never stays buried.

- save your tears: Ellie Williams never wanted commitment. When you first tangled in each other’s sheets, it was her rules: casual, no strings, no complications. You agreed—half-heartedly. But feelings grew in the silence between skin and shadows.

- girlfriend: In a broken world, Ellie Williams becomes the one constant — protective, intense, and impossible to ignore. Their bond is complicated, but it’s all they have.

- drunk texting: After a night of drinking, a risky text is sent to Ellie — one that unravels buried feelings and turns their dynamic upside down.

- high enough: in which you wanted her

- your best friend: in which you wished she wasn't dating your best friend

- knee deep: in which ellie wanted you back

- sports car: in which she took you for a ride

- beneath the mask: in which she saved you

- one step forward, three steps back: In which your relationship always put you 3 steps back

- crimson days: in which she needed comfort

- quiet room: in which you needed comfort

- the cut that always bleeds: in which she left you bleeding

- Split ends: in which you needed help

- drunk words, sober eyes: in which you confessed

- planets: in which you went on a date

- latch: in which you were trapped

- frostbite: in which you shared a special moment with her

- losing sleep: in which you hated her

- dark red: in which she wanted you to herself

- wash day: in which she helps you with your hair

- rose: in which she cant forget you

- comfort: in which she helped you

- bubblegum: in which you fell in love

- I was all over her: in which she wanted to be all over you

- do you still dream of me?: In which you still dream about her

- laundry: In which you didn't fold the laundry

- bad dog: in which you treated her like a bad dog

- pretty girl: in which she showed her girl how pretty she really is

- mary (angst edition): in which you left her to rot

- things to do: In which they got their happily ever after

- satisfied: in which you were the perfect housewife

- in my feelings (angst edition): In which you fell for a loser

- dye it red: In which you dyed your hair red

- ultraviolence: In which she became the person, you've always wanted

- karma: In which you were her downfall

- twilight: In which you couldn't win Ellie's heart

- window: In which Ellie Williams made a big mistake

- in my feelings: In which you showed a loser, a great time

- mary (mental illness edition): In which Ellie wrote you a song.

- brooklyn baby: In which you were dating the world-famous Ellie Williams

- laugh it off: In which Ellie tries to fix your relationship after she was unfaithful

- cool about it: if Ellie couldn't have you, she'd make sure no one else ever will.

- she calls me daddy: You might be engaged but you still always go back to Ellie

- petals on the moon: In which Ellie regrets her decision

- night shift: In which you were the other women

- everybody here wants you: In which you fell in love with someone you couldn't have

- emily i'm sorry: In which Ellie is fucking crazy

- limit to your love: In which you got your heart broken

- I'm not a mountain: In which Ellie makes stupid decisions

- one night only: Ellie wanted needed to see you, but little did she know the one night she wanted to spend with you, would be her final night

- fake it: You and Ellie reminisce on how the two of you got together

- together: Your relationship was toxic, you both knew this... but yet both of you couldn't stay away from each other

- in hell: in which ellie had a taste of what hell felt like

- waste my time: Ellie questions if you really love her or if you were just using her to clean up your mess

- poision: Ellie knows your relationship is toxic, but she can’t help but go back to you.

- nobody; Ellie's biggest fear becomes a reality...

- is there someone else? All Ellie wanted was for you to forgive her

- infatuated: In which Ellie’s “small crush” turned into an obsession

- all the girls you've loved before: Two lost girls, finally found what they've been looking for in each other

- forever: What’s the point of living, if you aren’t by her side?

- moonlight : In which ellie gets high with her lover

series˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

scream for me: In which not killing the pretty girl was the best mistake she ever made

part 1 part 2 part 3

Therefore, you and me: All you needed was Ellie

part 1 part 2 part 3

Her Sweet girl: in which you had enough

part 1 part 2

Loser Ellie

part 1 part 2

Professor Ellie

professor ellie masterlist

Brothers best friend Ellie

part 1 part 2

Simp Ellie

part 1 part 2

drabbles, hcs and short stories˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

ellie taking care of sick reader (hcs)

toxic ellie (hcs)

douchebag ellie (hcs)

ellie warming you up (ss)

ellie saying you're a piece of art (ss)

𝐈𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞?: 𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

This story is based off the song Is there someone else? by The Weeknd. If you can please listen to the song while reading:)

(Fun fact I love Abel’s music, I’ve been a XO for years so it’s only fitting for me to use his music, and with that you can expect a lot of stories based off his songs! Anyway let’s get back to the story;) )

Pairing:  Jackson!ellie x fem!reader

Requests are always open, feel free to leave one, or just send me a song and I’ll take it from there!

Warnings: mentions of cheating

Summary: All Ellie wanted was for you to forgive her

I know that you're hiding something from me

That's been close to your heart

And I felt it creeping up every day

Baby, right from the start

Ellie sat across you, as she watched your hands fidget. She knew there was something off about you. She knew you were hiding something from her. And if she had to guess by your recent behavior she could tell that it was serious.

You’ve been acting strange for the last few months now. You were distant. Cold. You weren’t that ray of sunshine she fell in love with.

As the days go by Ellie can’t help but feel more and more alone. She didn’t only feel alone, but she became touch starved by the distance you kept from her. You were there but you weren’t. You were hers but you weren’t. You started talking to her less, you stopped any form of physical contact with Ellie. No more hugging, no more cuddling. Nothing.

And in the beginning Ellie was concerned. She thought maybe you were sick, or hurt. But as time went on and you were pulling away from her not just physically but emotionally too- Ellie knew there was something much deeper than a sickness. For weeks she’s searched her brain to try and figure out.

What the hell was wrong with you? How could she help you? Did Ellie do something? Was your behavior her fault? What the fuck is happening to the love of her life?

I know that look you give when we're fighting (fighting)

We're fighting (fighting)

'Cause I used to be the one who was lying (lying)

Oh, lying (lying)

Ellie stared at you, your gaze cold. She looked into your eyes, and normally when she would look at you, your eyes would be filled with love and admiration for Ellie- but all she could see was anger. Hatred. Ellie became sick of your behavior and she decided to confront you. The argument started off simple, with Ellie saying something along the lines of “are you ok?  you’ve been acting weird babe. You know you can always talk to me” What was supposed to be a normal conversation escalated very quickly.

“Baby look I don’t want to argue with you- I just need you to be honest with me” Ellie begged. She looked at you with pleading eyes.

You scoffed “as if you have ever been honest with me”

As soon as those words left your lips, tension filled the room. The room fell silent. You could hear a pin drop.

One night after a very rough day on patrol, Ellie and Dina went out. After a couple of drinks, the two girls ended up, hooking up in your house. It didn’t take a long time for you to find out. Ellie wasn’t really good at hiding things.  And when you found out you were crushed. And Ellie knew she messed up a good thing as soon as she saw the tears fill your eyes as she told you. Ellie was filled with guilt and regret.  You almost left Ellie that day. But you didn’t. You stayed. You stayed because you loved her. You gave her a second chance. A chance to prove herself. It was hard for you in the beginning but eventually you and Ellie went back to ‘normal’. But that normal didn’t last very long.

Oh. Now everything made sense. Ellie sat there, mouth agape, at your response. She heard you let out a huff “look Ellie- I love you. But I can’t just forget and move on’’

 Before any words could leave Ellie’s mouth you spoke again “I need space, I need someone who won’t do what you did, because if really did love me, you wouldn’t have slept with Dina”

The words rang in Ellie’s ears:

” I need someone who won’t do what you did” You wanted someone else?

“If you really did love me, you wouldn’t have slept with Dina”

Ellie sat there in silence. She watched you pick up a bag walk to the door. “I’m going out don’t wait up” And you left. You didn’t look back. As soon as the door shut Ellie let out a sob. A gut wrenching sob. She knew she made a mistake but she didn’t know that it would lead to this. Ellie loved you. You were her entire world and to hear you say really did love me you wouldn’t have slept with Dina hurts because she loved you. She loved you more than life itself.  

The words bounced around in her head over and over again “I need someone who won’t do what you did, because if really did love me, you wouldn’t have slept with Dina”

“I need someone who won’t do what you did, because if really did love me, you wouldn’t have slept with Dina”

Oh (oh), is there someone else or not?

'Cause I wanna keep you close

I don't wanna lose my spot

'Cause I need to know

If you're hurting him, or you're hurting me

If I ain't with you, I don't wanna be

Is there someone else or not?

Ooh, or not

Ellie felt her eyes gloss over as she watched you sit at the end of the bed. She felt her tears run down her face, in an attempt to not look so vulnerable Ellie brought her knees to her chest, and she put her chin on her kneecaps. You weren’t looking at her- fidgeting with your hands.

Ellie knew you were nervous; the fact you aren’t making eyes contact with her was already a sign. Ellie wasn’t sure why she was crying, all you did was walk into the room and you sat down on the bed. But Ellie had a feeling. Her gut was telling her you were going to say something she wouldn’t like. You were there to break her heart. Ellie let a small whimper and turned to look at her. You didn’t reach out to her, like you normally would. You didn’t comfort her. You just looked at her and you said “Ellie now is not the time to cry” Your face was as beautiful as always. You voice calm, while Ellie was wreck across from you.

“Is there someone else?” Ellie whispered. And as soon as those words left her mouth, Ellie could tell by your facial expression there was. There is someone else.

“No” Ellie whispered, frantic as brought her hands over her ears as she let out loud sobs, repeating the words no over and over again. There is someone else.

For how long? Was it a girl or a boy? Ellie was the other women.

Ellie needed to hear the words leave your mouth. She needed you to say yes. She needed to know if she lost her spot. Being the girl you came home to, being the girl you shared your hopes and dreams with. She wanted to be that girl forever, but she isn’t that girl anymore. There was someone else. Ellie needed to know. Ellie didn’t want to be with anyone but you. You were her everything, even the thought of her being with someone disgusts her.

As Ellie sat there rocking back and forth screaming her lungs out, she felt you gently holding her, and shushing her.

 “Sh sh sh baby its ok” you said softly. Even with the current situation Ellie immediately leaned into your hold, grabbing onto your t-shirt and sobbing into your arms. You were humming a soft tune, because you knew music always calmed Ellie down. You knew her better than she knew herself.

When Ellie eventually calmed down she pulled away from you slowly, looking at your beautiful face. Your cheeks were slightly wet, from crying as well. Ellie asked the question again:

“Is there someone else?”

And that three letter word let your mouth. Ellie wished you didn’t confirm it. But her question was answered when you let out a simple;

“Yes.”

I don't deserve someone loyal to me

Don't you think I see?

And I don't want to be a prisoner to who I used to be

I swear I changed my ways for the better, the better

'Cause I wanna be with you forever, forever

Ellie was drunk. That night that she hooked up with Dina. She was drunk. Alcohol is not an excuse for cheating, and she knew that but she was drunk. Ellie didn’t think that one drunken mistake would cost her the love of her life.

You were too good for Ellie. Too loving. The things Ellie has done in her life that was disgusting, and cruel. Ellie was heartless. Ellie thought no one could love someone as dirty as she was. But then there was you. You loved Ellie for who she was, and now because she was drunk she lost you. The only person other than Joel that mattered to her. Ellie didn’t deserve you. She didn’t deserve someone as loyal and loving like you were. And even when you gave her that second chance she knew she didn’t deserve it. She deserved you leaving her. She deserved you getting with someone else. Ellie tried changing her ways, because she wanted to be with you forever. Till she took he last breathe she wanted to be with you.

 In the months after you and Ellie broke up, she tried proving to you that she was a good person. Even when you broken up she tried. When you had announced this someone else you were seeing was your girlfriend it ruined Ellie. Because she can’t live without you. The fact that you were in a stable relationship with someone that is not her hurts. And even though you had a girlfriend Ellie would still try. She writes you notes, sends you messages through people, pleading that you would give her another chance. Ellie needed you.

 But the more Ellie looked at the situation, the more she realized that this was the consequences of her own actions.

Oh, is there someone else or not?

'Cause I wanna keep you close

I don't wanna lose my spot

'Cause I need to know

If you're hurting him, or you're hurting me

If I ain't with you, I don't wanna be

Is there someone else or not?

Ooh, or not

Ellie looked the grin on your face as you walked down the aisle, you looked beautiful in your wedding dress. Ellie dreamed of this day. The day you would walk to her, and get married. And that you would end up her surname.

But now she was a part of the crowd. She watched you walk down the aisle to your girlfriend of 2 years. Her name was Abby. An outsider that joined Jackson in the recent years. You were marrying the women you had left her for.

 As the pastor exclaimed you may now kiss the bride, both you and that girl smiled as you leaned in for that kiss. You were married. To someone else. The crowd screamed when your lips locked with hers, and Ellie couldn’t help but let her tear fall at the sight. There was no saving your relationship. It had been almost 3 years since you and Ellie broke up, and she still couldn’t move on. Ellie became a shell of the person she was after you left. Ellie was never the same. And Ellie never will be the same.

Many times Ellie fantasies that Abby was the women that cheated on you. She fantasizes that she was that someone else you left Abby for. But that was not the case.

For the rest of Ellie’s life, she grieved your relationship, while you lived your happily ever after.

Authors note: Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! Remember to always love one another and to be kind…. Requests are always open... Thank you so much for the love and support on all my stories, I love all of you dearly!

Yours truly,

Zia:)

Drunk texting - ellie williams x reader

this story is based off the song drunk texting by (name i will not mention) and Jhene Aiko. If you can please listen to the song as you're reading:)

Pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

requests are open, send me your thoughts:)

Warning: Alcohol use, emotional angst, late-night texting, mentions of sex, unresolved feelings, soft heartbreak.

Setting: Modern College AU

Summary: After a night of drinking, a risky text is sent to Ellie — one that unravels buried feelings and turns their dynamic upside down.

Masterlist

1:58 AM

The party had long since blurred.

You were stretched across the living room couch, head tilted back, red cup dangling loosely from your fingers. Bass still pulsed faintly through the floor, though the crowd had thinned. You should’ve gone home. You should’ve stayed home.

But you were tipsy now. And stupid.

Which meant only one thing:

You were about to text her.

Ellie Williams.

Your ex. Or almost-ex. Or not-quite-anything that still managed to hurt like hell.

Your finger hovered over her name.

You hadn’t spoken in weeks—not really, not since that fight.

Not since you said you were done pretending.

She never said you weren’t.

She just... let you go.

But your chest was too heavy, your brain too slow, and your fingers too fast.

you:

you up?

Delivered.

Read.

Nothing.

You dropped your head back and shut your eyes.

This was a bad idea.

The last time you saw her was a month ago. Cold air. Hot tears.

You yelling in the middle of her apartment while she stood still, staring at you like you were a puzzle she couldn’t solve anymore.

“You don’t say how you feel, Ellie,” you’d snapped. “You don’t do anything until it’s too late.”

“You always want more from me,” she said quietly. “And I never know how to give it without ruining it.”

“I’m not asking for perfect. I’m asking for real.”

She didn’t stop you when you left.

But her hand lingered on the door longer than it should have.

2:14 AM

Your phone buzzed.

Ellie:

what do you want?

Your breath caught.

She was always like this—short, cautious. But she answered.

you, you typed. Then erased it.

you:

to talk

A pause. Three dots. Then nothing.

2:22 AM

Ellie:

you’re drunk

You:

so?

Ellie:

you only miss me when you’re not sober

you only remember how we felt when you can’t feel anything else

You:

that’s not true.

I miss you every fucking day.

That one stung. You knew it would. You meant it to.

Your phone buzzed again.

Ellie:

then why did you leave?

Your thumb hovered over the screen.

You:

because you never asked me to stay.

Silence.

You waited, heart racing, guilt settling like fog in your chest. Maybe that was too much. Maybe she’d block you. Maybe—

Ellie:

i didn’t know how

i still don’t

You blinked hard. The room spun.

You:

i’m outside

You didn’t even remember walking to her place. You just knew your hand was curled into a fist, knuckles lightly tapping her apartment door in the cold.

It opened slowly.

Ellie stood there in a hoodie and sweats, bare feet, eyes tired and red-rimmed. Like she hadn’t slept in days.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said. Voice small.

“I know,” you whispered. “But I needed to see you.”

She stepped back. Just enough.

You walked inside.

The place looked the same—records on the floor, your old hoodie still slung over the back of the couch. You stared at it.

“You kept it.”

“I keep a lot of things I shouldn’t,” she said quietly.

You turned. She was watching you like you were a dream she couldn’t decide was good or bad.

“Why did you answer?” you asked.

Ellie’s throat bobbed. “Because I always do. Because I want to hate you, but I don’t. Because even now... I still think about you before I go to sleep.”

Silence stretched like a wound.

“I hate that you only come back when you’re drunk,” she whispered.

You stepped closer.

“I hate that it’s the only time I feel brave enough to.”

She didn’t pull away when you reached for her hand.

The couch was cold. Her body was warm. You sat beside each other in that too-familiar way, knees brushing, fingers playing with the hem of her sleeve.

“You think if we were better at talking, we wouldn’t have fallen apart?” you asked.

Ellie laughed softly. “No. I think if I’d told you how much I loved you, you might’ve stayed.”

You froze.

She never said it back when you did. Not once.

Now you didn’t know what to say.

She turned her head. Her green eyes were glassy. Raw.

“I did,” she whispered. “I just... couldn’t say it out loud.”

You leaned in before you could stop yourself.

It wasn’t a kiss, not yet. Just your foreheads pressed together, your breath mixing with hers, that ache rising again, warm and hungry and full of everything you never said.

“I still love you,” you said, barely audible.

Ellie closed her eyes. “God, I wish I didn’t.”

Then she kissed you.

And it tasted like regret. Like forgiveness. Like maybe this time, you wouldn’t let go.