Headcannons: Milf!abby Anderson X Reader (part 4)

ellie period comfort fic pls? istg i hate this shit but love ur fluff fics KJAKSJHKA:cc

Comfort - (ellie williams x reader)

hi pookieeee!!! firstly thank youuuu, secondly so real. if i could get rid of it forever i would because joh the painnnnnnnn:(((( i hope you enjoy<3333

Pairing: ellie x fem!reader

requests are open! send me your silly thoughts

warnings: none

Summary: in which she helped you

authors note: its midterm break rn and im so bored, all i do is sleep, eat and write. also do yall think i should make playlist with all the songs people send me as requests???

masterlist

Ellie was worried. Really fucking worried.

The two of you were supposed to meet at this new cat café Ellie recently discovered. She remembered showing you pictures that she found on Instagram, and how excited you were.

"Ellie there's ginger cats!" You squealed when you saw the pictures. "Can i hold them?"

"The website says you can"

You let out a scream of excitement and you hopped onto her, straddling her. Her hands immediately went to your hips.

You kissed her all over her face and she fucking giggled.

"Thank you baby!"

Now here she sat all alone with ginger cat on her lap waiting for you.

She sat there for over an hour waiting but you never showed up. She's called you so many times. She's texted you so many times.

I'm here (delivered)

when are you coming? (delivered)

Where are you? (delivered)

Baby are you ok? (delivered)

You're scaring me (delivered)

It wasn't like you to not respond, especially if the two of you had a date planned.

Maybe you were mad at her? Maybe you were ignoring her? Maybe you were in danger?

Fuck, so many possibilities.

She checked your location only to see that you were at your apartment.

What?

She immediately left the café, and she hopped into her car. She was speeding down the highway, praying that she wouldn't get pulled over.

Maybe you fainted, maybe you forgot, maybe you had someone over?

She was terrified.

She pulled into the driveway of the complex and she rushed up the stairs forgetting that the elevator was there. She ran to your door and she unlocked it with the key she had, not even bothering to knock because if you were in trouble then she needed to get there urgently.

She walked into into your apartment and it looked like it always has. It was clean, everything was in its place.

What the fuck?

She slowly walked through the apartment and she checked every room but there was no one. She just has your bedroom left. She slowly opened the door and there was a huge lump on your bed. She walked to the other side of the bed to see you fast sleep covered with a million blankets.

She let out a sigh of relief and she squatted down so she could see your face more clearly.

She gently touched your cheek and your nose scrunched at the sensation.

"Baby" she muttered quietly.

You slowly opened your eyes and she gave you a small smile.

"Hi"

"Are you ok?" Ellie asked with concern "you didn't reply to my texts"

you frown and you reached out to grab your phone from behind you. You switched it on you read all the texts and you eyes widened.

"we had a date?"

"Yeah"

"I'm sorry"

Ellie shook her head "what happened?"

you look away shyly

"baby talk to me"

"my period started and i decided to take a nap"

'that explains your mood swings' Ellie thought

"oh you poor thing" she got up and she kissed your forehead "does it hurt?"

"A little" you admitted.

"Let me help you"

you nodded at her request and Ellie immediately got to work. She went into your bathroom and she filled the tub with water. She back into your room where you quietly sat and waited for her. She came in and she gently grabbed your hand

"come on baby"

You got out of the bed following her. When you got into the bathroom and you saw the water filled tub you gave her a big hug. You took off your clothes and you gave you got in with a relived sigh.

Ellie took your clothes and she out it into the washer. She immediately went into the kitchen and she looked for every sweet treat she could find because she knew how much loved eating sweet this, especially at this time.

She changed your sheets, she got you pain meds and she sat on the edge of the bed waiting for you.

You walked out all clean, and you were immediately looking for Ellie. When you walked into the room, seeing the new sheets the snacks, you were suddenly overwhelmed.

"Oh Ellie" your eyes filled with tears.

"No baby don't cry" she got up and she walked over to you and she hugged you as you silently sobbed. The two of you stood together for a while as you found comfort in her arms.

"Lets lay down" she mumbled.

"Tonight we'll do whatever you want" she said as she cuddled up behind you.

"Can we watch Disney?"

"We can baby"

"can you also get me cheese?"

"Whatever you want baby"

you gave the arm that was wrapped around you a squeeze

"i like cheese"

" i know you do"

"thank you els, i love you"

"i love you too"

<3

Hello! I read your Ellie fics and I'm like😧, you write so damn well, the way I smiled with the fluff or how I cried with the anguish and if I didn't cry it's because I was simply shocked by the plot. You really have something about writing anguish and make crazy and murderous characters (I love it) THANK YOU FOR WRITING MASTERPIECES!😭♡♡ (sorry if the English is bad, I use a translator since English is not my first language)

Firstly your English is just perfect!! Secondly thank you for your kind words... you're making me tear up!!! I strive to make the best work for you guys!! Dw babe, alot is coming yalls way;))

can we please have a pt2 for bbf!ellie?😭

headcannons: brothers best friend!ellie williams x reader

masterlist

part 1

☆ Ellie’s confession wasn’t a soft one. It was raw. Blurted out late one night when it was just the two of you on the porch, sitting too close. Her voice trembled but her eyes never left yours.

☆ “I like you,” she said, almost angry about it, like it was your fault. “I’ve liked you for a long time.”

☆ You froze. Not because you didn’t like her back—but because you did, and that scared the hell out of you.

☆ The next day, you avoided her. No text replies, no opening the door when she knocked, no hanging around when your brother invited her over.

☆ Ellie noticed instantly. Her texts got more frequent. Shorter. More frantic. “Did I fuck up?” “Please talk to me.”

☆ When you left a group hang early, she stared after you the whole time. She didn’t even say goodbye.

☆ Ellie didn’t sleep much that first week. She laid awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering how she misread things.

☆ She started watching your house. Just sitting in her truck a few houses down at night. Waiting to see your light go off.

☆ She played songs she knew you liked in your brother's room, loud enough for you to hear through the shared wall. Hoping you’d listen. Hoping you’d knock.

☆ You didn’t. It made her worse.

☆ She started keeping things you left behind—a hoodie, a pen, a lip balm—and holding them like they were sacred.

☆ Ellie got moodier. Snappier with your brother. She barely made eye contact with him, but she was always asking where you were.

☆ You caught her looking at you from the edge of the hallway once. Her eyes were glassy. She didn’t speak.

☆ Her drawings? All turned into versions of you. Your hands, your mouth, your hair, the sad curve of your shoulder.

☆ She stopped hiding it. Started wearing her obsession like a badge, because if she couldn't have you—she needed to remember every inch of you.

☆ Ellie started showing up everywhere you went. Coincidence at first—until it wasn’t.

☆ Grocery store? She was there by the lemons, asking if you still liked green apples.

☆ Coffee shop? She was sitting at the back, watching you sip your drink, fingers tight on her cup.

☆ She wouldn’t talk to you directly. Just… look. Let the air buzz.

☆ Your friends noticed. One asked, “Is she stalking you?” You didn’t answer. You weren’t sure.

☆ Ellie started writing about you in her journal—paragraphs of frustration, lust, guilt, rage, and helpless longing.

☆ She imagined what your skin would taste like if you’d let her kiss you.

☆ She imagined saying your name and hearing you moan hers back.

☆ Every sketch was darker, more desperate. You with tear tracks, with your lip between your teeth, with bruises she imagined leaving.

☆ Her mind spiraled. She thought maybe you were rejecting her on purpose. Punishing her.

☆ She started dreaming about you. Wake-up-sweating, breathing-hard dreams.

☆ When your brother invited her over again, Ellie scanned the room like a wolf. You weren’t there. Again.

☆ “She’s been busy,” your brother offered casually. Ellie didn’t respond. Her jaw clenched.

☆ The silence became unbearable. You missed her. Wanted her. But you couldn’t act on it—not with your brother. Not with the mess.

☆ But Ellie was done waiting.

☆ She showed up at your place with a book she claimed you left behind. You didn’t. She just needed an excuse.

☆ You opened the door an inch. Tried to keep it cold. But your eyes gave you away. You still wanted her.

☆ Ellie stared at your lips the entire conversation. All two minutes of it.

☆ When you shut the door, she stood there for five more minutes. Breathing. Shaking.

☆ That was the night she made a decision: she’d make you tell her the truth—even if she had to corner you for it.

☆ You were coming back from class when you felt it—that prickle on your neck. The instinct. Someone watching.

☆ You turned and there she was. Hoodie, jaw set, standing at the mouth of the hallway.

☆ You tried to walk past her. She stepped in front of you.

☆ “Why are you avoiding me?” she asked, voice low, clipped.

☆ “Ellie, please—” you said, but your voice cracked.

☆ She moved closer. “No. You don’t get to run anymore.”

☆ You backed up, heart pounding, until your spine hit the cold concrete wall. Nowhere to go.

☆ “Did I scare you?” she whispered. “Is that it?”

☆ “No,” you whispered. “You didn’t.”

☆ Her hands hit the wall on either side of your head. Trapped. Her face inches from yours.

☆ “Then what?” Her voice broke. “You didn’t even give me a chance.”

☆ Her eyes were red-rimmed. Wild. “I tell you I’m in love with you and you disappear?”

☆ “Ellie, I’m scared,” you admitted. “You’re my brother’s best friend. If something happens, it’ll ruin everything.”

☆ “Something already happened,” she growled. “You ruined me the second you stopped talking to me.”

☆ Your breath hitched. Her lips brushed your cheek. “I dream about you,” she whispered. “Every fucking night.”

☆ “Ellie…” Your voice was soft, needy.

☆ She tilted your chin up. “Say you don’t want me. Say it and I’ll leave you alone.”

☆ You couldn’t. You didn’t. Your mouth parted—but no words came.

☆ And then—her lips crashed into yours.

☆ It was messy, all teeth and tongue and heat. Weeks of tension unraveling in one kiss that felt like it might end the world.

☆ Your hands gripped her hoodie like a lifeline, pulling her tighter, closer, until you couldn’t breathe.

☆ She kissed like she hated you for making her wait. Like she needed to memorize you.

☆ You whimpered into her mouth and she swore she almost lost it. Her hands fisted in your shirt.

☆ Her leg slipped between yours. She swallowed every sound you made.

☆ When she finally pulled back, you both were panting. Her forehead pressed to yours.

☆ “Fuck,” she breathed. “I’ve wanted to do that since I was seventeen.”

☆ “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t know how to handle it.”

☆ “You don’t have to,” she said. “Just don’t run. Please.”

☆ Her fingers traced your jaw. “I meant what I said. I like you. I’m not walking away.”

☆ “Even if my brother finds out?”

☆ “Let him,” she said, voice thick. “I’ll fight him if I have to.”

☆ You laughed softly, and Ellie smiled like she hadn’t in weeks.

☆ “So… what now?” you asked, breathless.

☆ She swallowed, eyes dark, voice hoarse: “Go out with me. Tonight. Tomorrow. Every day after that. Be mine.”

☆ You kissed her again. And this time, it wasn’t desperate—it was a yes.

Maybe another dark toxic ellie oneshot in the future

Laundry - (ellie williams x reader)

your wish is my command, i hope you like it, i tried not to make it toooo toxic <3

Pairing: ellie x fem!reader

requests are open! send me your silly thoughts:)

warnings: toxic relationships, face spitting

Summary: In which you didn't fold the laundry

authors note: prepare to be sick of me because i have so many drafts

masterlist

imagine you and ellie had a huge argument earlier that day about unfolded laundry.

Ellie had woken up in a grumpier mood than usual, her eyes burning from the sunlight shining into your shared room. With a groan, Ellie got up, shivering as her feet touched the cold floor.

She got up, walking with her eyes closed, but she tripped over a pile of laundry that was left on the floor.

"Fucking-" she swore as she held her ankle.

You ran into the room, hearing the noise from downstairs. The scene was almost comedic: Ellie hunched over mumbling curse words to herself as she held her angle.

"Els..." you whispered, holding in your laugh.

"You" she said softly as her head snapped in your direction.

"Can you not clean properly?"

Your brows furrowed at her question.

"Ellie its your clothes-"

"i work all fucking day. All Fucking day, and i let you stay at home. I provide you look after the place. I expect you to fold my laundry. How would you feel if i stopped paying the bills?"

She did this often. She liked reminding you that she was the in charge. She was the one providing and you were nothing more than a stay at home girlfriend.

"Ellie-"

"get the fuck out"

You listened, like the dog you were. You ran out the room like a dog with it's tail between it's legs.

Ellie came out the room a while later, she didn't look at you she didn't acknowledge you.

You hated when she did that.

And she knew you hated it.

You had to get her attention somehow. You knew just what to do.

The sun had set, Ellie came home walking right past you, she didn't even utter a "hi".

She sat on the couch, probably responding to Dina's texts.

"I want to break up" you suddenly spoke. You prayed that this would work. You could never leave, but you knew this would get a reaction out of her.

"What?"

"you heard me"

she threw her phone to the side and she got up walking towards you. You felt her cold fingers grip your face

"you're not fucking leaving me" she was close.

So close. You could smell her cologne. You could count her freckles.

You won this round. Both of you knew that.

You felt her grip tighten on your chin and you let out a yelp. This would probably leave bruises.

"the day you try to leave me is the day your dead body will be found, so don't even think about it"

You knew she was serious. Ellie doesn't play when it comes to things like that. You knew she was just reminding you who was in control and you liked it.

You were probably just as sick as she was.

She let go of your space and she spat onto your face.

"You make me sick" was all she said before she walked away.

You watched her walk into the kitchen as you wiped off your face, she didn't even look at you as she opened the fridge. All she said was: "Go fold the laundry baby"

And you did just that.

<3

Headcannons: ceo!abby anderson x fem!reader

masterlist

☆ Abby is the kind of CEO who commands a room the moment she walks in. Tailored suits, sharp jawline, low voice that cuts through the noise. People either fear her or fall in love with her—there’s no in-between.

☆ She didn’t inherit the company; she built her reputation through blood, sweat, and an iron will. Everyone knows the rumors: military background, strategic acquisitions, never smiles unless she’s already won.

☆ In meetings, she’s precise, no-nonsense. Employees scramble to meet deadlines because the idea of disappointing her is terrifying—but deep down, they respect her. She’s fair. She rewards loyalty, effort, and genius when she sees it.

☆ You work in one of the departments she rarely pays attention to—PR, internal communications, or perhaps you're an executive assistant brought in as a temp to cover someone’s maternity leave.

☆ She notices you because you’re not intimidated by her. You’re polite but blunt, you don’t fawn over her like others do. And when she gives you a task, you complete it perfectly—without needing a follow-up.

☆ The first time she really looks at you is when you correct a minor detail in one of her public statements. She stares at you for a beat too long, then nods. That’s when it all started.

☆ Abby is all control—she’s used to people submitting, obeying. But you? You don’t give her that satisfaction easily. It drives her insane and fascinates her at the same time.

☆ She tries to keep it professional, but her restraint cracks. She starts showing up near your desk more often than necessary, asking for “updates” she could have emailed about.

☆ You make her feel off-balance, and Abby hates being off-balance—but she keeps coming back for it.

☆ When the relationship starts, it’s secret. Very secret. Her rules: no one knows, no workplace displays, and absolutely no compromising your career because of her.

☆ But it doesn’t take long before those lines blur. She touches your wrist in meetings. She defends you publicly. She gets jealous when other execs talk to you.

☆ Abby’s bedroom persona is different—still dominant, but reverent. Like she’s worshipping something she doesn’t think she deserves.

☆ She tries to be gentle, but her hands are rough, and her need is overwhelming. She’ll press you into soft sheets in her penthouse, hair loose, voice husky as she murmurs your name like a prayer.

☆ Aftercare is where her walls drop: she wraps you in her arms, kisses your forehead, brushes your hair back. She doesn’t say much, but the way she holds you says it all.

☆ You’re the only person who’s seen Abby cry. It happened once after a brutal boardroom betrayal. You found her sitting alone in her office at 1AM, hands shaking, eyes red. She didn’t send you away.

☆ She doesn’t let anyone touch her unless she initiates—except you. If you brush your hand over hers during a bad day, she visibly relaxes. No one else has that power.

☆ She trusts you with her past. Military trauma, the father she lost, the fear of turning into a machine. You’re her anchor.

☆ Abby doesn’t get petty jealous—but if someone flirts with you at a company party, she’s by your side in seconds. Hand on your lower back, icy stare, soft command in your ear: “Come with me.”

☆ If you’re ever hurt, dismissed, or undermined at work, Abby becomes an unstoppable force. “They don’t work here anymore,” she’ll say flatly, her protectiveness quiet and lethal.

☆ Sends you flowers “anonymously” that somehow end up in the executive suite with your name on them.

☆ Leaves sticky notes on your monitor with short notes: “You killed it today.” “Dinner tonight, 8PM.” “Proud of you.”

☆ Hires a private chef for your birthday but insists on cooking breakfast herself the next morning in nothing but a shirt and boxers.

☆ Keeps a framed candid photo of you in her locked drawer. You don’t know about it, but she looks at it on the hardest days.

☆ Eventually, you’re not a secret anymore. Abby makes it public in her own way: attending a gala with you on her arm, no apology in her eyes.

☆ She promotes you—not because of your relationship, but because you’re damn good at what you do. She makes sure no one can question your worth.

☆ Talks about retirement one day. Not to quit, but to slow down. “Maybe we’ll move somewhere quieter,” she murmurs against your neck. “Somewhere with a garden.”

☆ You knew Abby loved her diary. She wrote everything in there, every emotion, every high and every low. You were never allowed to read it, until one day you were alone in her room you decided to take a peek:

January 3rd

11:47 PM – Office

I saw her again today.

Same desk. Same quiet smile. Same nerve to look me dead in the eye without flinching.

I shouldn’t notice. I shouldn’t care.

But I do. And it’s starting to piss me off.

-

February 9th

1:15 AM – Penthouse

She corrected me. In front of the team.

Tactfully. Respectfully. But it was still a correction.

And god, it turned me on.

What the hell is wrong with me?

-

March 2nd

10:06 PM – Gym Locker Room

She wore her hair up today. It pulled her features tighter, more severe. And yet, all I wanted to do was tug it loose and see her fall apart.

I made up a reason to call her into my office.

Five minutes of conversation about a report I didn’t read.

Her voice lingers longer than it should.

-

March 16th

12:22 AM – Office (again)

I touched her hand today.

Not by accident. Not in passing.

I could feel the pulse in her wrist—fast, unsure.

She didn’t pull away.

Neither did I.

I’m crossing lines now. I know it.

I don’t want to stop.

-

April 4th

2:02 AM – Bedroom

She kissed me first.

That’s what I’ll tell myself, even if I know it’s a lie.

We were in the elevator, alone. I leaned in. Maybe too close. She looked at me like she’d already forgiven the mistake I hadn’t made yet.

I kissed her like I hadn’t wanted anything else in years.

And she kissed me back.

I’m fucked.

-

April 22nd

3:35 AM – After she fell asleep

She sleeps like she trusts me.

That should terrify me.

Instead, I’m scared of how badly I want to earn it.

-

May 11th

11:11 PM – Office

Saw her laughing with one of the interns. I hated how it made me feel.

Possessive. Petty. Animal.

I smiled when she glanced over, but I wanted to drag her away and remind her who she belongs to.

No. Not "belongs."

That’s not right. She’s not mine.

But I’m hers.

And I don’t think she even knows it.

-

May 27th

9:49 PM – Her Apartment

She made dinner. It was bad. I ate every bite.

She looked so proud.

When she leaned over to kiss me, all I could think was: I’ve gone soft.

Then she whispered she loves me.

And just like that, I broke.

-

June 5th

Midnight – Private Jet

I’m bringing her to the gala. Publicly. No more secrets.

Let them talk. Let them guess.

She’s not a scandal.

She’s the only real thing I have.

-

July 1st

10:10 PM – Lake House (weekend getaway)

She made me promise I’d rest.

No emails. No meetings.

She’s outside reading a book right now. Feet in the water. Hair wind-blown.

I’m watching her through the window.

And for the first time in a long time, I feel... free.

Maybe love isn’t a weakness.

Maybe it’s the only reason I’ve survived this long.

Idk if you watched yellowjackets but i really think you would like it!

It got me thinking about ellie who lost her bestfriend (secret crush/love of her life) reader and cant part with her body and breaksdown when people find out she has it and take it away from her

Dont take her from me - ellie williams x reader

hi anon! i haven't watched it yet but its been on my watchlist... I've heard good things about it. Once again i got carried away... i hope you enjoy:)

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

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

HUGE WARNING: grief, delusion, breakdown, body transport, psychological decay, corpses/dead bodies, disturbing comfort, jealousy, paranoia, anxiety, mental health strain, grave raiding, corpse handling, delusion, isolation, obsession, gore implied, graphic descriptions, blood, unsettling behaviour

Summary: Ellie’s always had control—until someone threatens to take the one person she can’t live without

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.

The blood had dried on Ellie’s hands hours ago.

But she still sat there, legs numb from being folded too long, your lifeless form cradled in her arms like you might wake up if she held you tight enough.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

She didn’t even get the chance to tell you how she felt—how the thing in her chest wasn’t just a crush. Wasn’t just longing. It was hunger. Ached for you so deeply that she sometimes had to grip the edge of her desk just to stop from running to your house and spilling every ugly truth in her head.

Now she was sitting on the cold floor of an abandoned cabin, in the middle of nowhere, covered in blood and sweat and dirt—and none of it mattered. None of it compared to the way your body had gone still. Your breath, your light… extinguished like it was never there.

She pressed her cheek to your forehead. Still faintly warm.

“Don’t go cold,” she whispered, voice shredded from hours of screaming your name into nothingness. “Just stay a little longer. Just stay with me.”

She rocked slightly. Back and forth. Like she could lull you into staying. Like you were just sleeping off a long night.

And when the others came—Jesse, Dina, a couple others from Jackson—Ellie didn’t even flinch.

They saw her first. Then you. No one spoke. For a moment, all they did was stare.

Then Jesse stepped forward. “Ellie,” he said softly, eyes wide with horror, “we have to take her.”

She didn’t look up. “No.”

“Ellie—”

“No.”

Her voice cracked, sharp and shrill, and her grip around your torso tightened.

“She’s not—she’s not ready. She’s not cold yet. She’s not—” Her breath hitched. “You can’t just take her.”

Dina’s face twisted in pain. “El… we need to bury her. It’s not safe out here, there’s—”

“You don’t get to touch her!” Ellie roared, head snapping up. Her eyes were wild—bloodshot, soaked with grief and rage. “You didn’t know her like I did. You don’t even get it.”

She scrambled back as Jesse reached again, shielding your body like a wounded animal. Her fingers trembled where they clung to your clothes.

“She was mine,” she whispered. “I never got to say it—but she was. She was. And you’re not gonna put her in the fucking ground like she’s just gone. She’s not.”

She pressed a kiss to your temple. Desperate. Cracked. “I can keep her warm. I swear. I’ll—I’ll keep her safe. Don’t take her from me. Please.”

But your skin was cooling.

No amount of warmth from her hands, no matter how feverishly she held you, could stop the inevitable.

She had memorized every scar, every laugh, every stupid joke you told just to see her crack a smile. And now you were quiet. Hollow. Just an echo.

They had to sedate her.

It took three of them. She fought like a hellhound, screaming your name, kicking, crying, biting, even when the needle sank into her neck. Even when her body slumped in Jesse’s arms, unconscious… her fingers were still twisted in your shirt.

When she woke up in Jackson days later, you were gone. She lost it.

They wouldn’t tell her where they buried you. Said she wasn’t stable. Said she needed rest, time, healing.

She screamed until her voice gave out. Tore her room apart looking for anything you touched. Burned a hole through your favorite hoodie just trying to breathe it in.

She sneaks out that night. Finds the grave. It’s quiet. Peaceful. The dirt’s still fresh.

Ellie drops to her knees, hands shaking, and begins to dig. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. She doesn’t care. She needs to see your face again.

Needs to kiss you, one more time, even if your lips are cold. Needs to apologize for all the time she wasted. Needs to ask if you’d have said yes—if she had asked you out. If you’d have smiled, taken her hand, told her you felt it too.

When they find her in the morning, she’s curled up beside the half-opened grave, fingers bloodied, dirt under her nails, your name on her lips. She doesn’t even look up.

“She was the only good thing,” she whispers, to no one. “And I didn’t get to keep her.”

It had been six days since you died. No one had found the cabin. Not yet. She made sure of it.

The windows were boarded. The door—barred with a chair wedged under the knob. Every possible crack sealed tight. She'd left bloodied handprints on the wood floor from moving you again, and again, and again—trying to find the right spot, the one you’d be most comfortable in.

You were laid out on a mattress in the center of the room, tucked under a worn blanket she stole from your house weeks ago. Your hair combed back gently. Lips touched with rose balm. She even painted your nails.

“See?” Ellie murmured, sitting beside you, her knees folded tightly under her. Her fingers brushed the edge of your arm—skin pale, but not blue. Not yet. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

She hadn’t eaten in two days. Barely drank water. Her eyes were sunken, red-rimmed, skin tight across her cheekbones. But her gaze never left you.

Sometimes, she imagined you blinking. Sometimes, she swore you did.

Sometimes, she dreamed you whispered her name, and when she woke up, her ear would be inches from your mouth, waiting. Just waiting for it again.

It wasn’t decomposition. It was transition. That’s what she told herself. That the smell wasn’t decay—it was your soul trying to root itself in her.

That the darkening under your eyes wasn’t rot—it was exhaustion from everything you’d been through.

That the way your body stiffened wasn’t rigor mortis—it was just you being shy. You’d always been shy.

They came looking for her on the ninth day. A knock at the cabin.

“Ellie? Are you in there?”

Jesse.

Ellie blinked, gaze pulling from your face. She didn’t answer.

“Ellie, please. We just want to help.”

Help?

They didn’t understand.

They wanted to take you.

She stood slowly, reaching for the axe near the doorway. The one she'd been using to chop firewood—and threaten the shadows when they got too loud.

She looked down at you one last time. Her expression soft, loving, doting.

“They don’t get to have you,” she whispered, eyes glassy. “You’re mine.” Then she went to the door.

The floorboards are stained now. Not from you. From the others.

They tried to come in. They didn’t leave.

She had to do it. She had to. They would’ve taken you. Put you in the ground like you were nothing more than meat and memory.

You weren’t. You were everything. Still are.

Now it’s just the two of you again. The way it should be.

Ellie sleeps curled up at the foot of your mattress, arm across your ankle like a child holding a stuffed toy. She tells you stories. She sings to you—soft lullabies she remembers her mom humming, or songs she once heard you hum absentmindedly in the kitchen.

Sometimes she kisses your hand. Sometimes she cries and begs you not to leave her.

“I love you,” she whispers again and again. “I love you. I love you. I love you. I won’t let them bury you. You’re mine.”

The backseat of the truck smelled like copper and perfume. The perfume was yours. A bottle she stole from your bathroom before the blood dried. She sprayed it on you each morning like ritual. Like prayer.

The copper was blood. Not yours, mostly.

She had to kill the man who owned the truck.

He tried to take it—you. Said it wasn’t “right.” Said you were a body, not a person anymore. Said she needed help.

He didn’t understand. None of them did.

Ellie adjusted the blanket over your face again, tucking it neatly beneath your chin. The fabric clung wetly to your skin, the heat of the day making it damp. Your body… was changing. But she didn’t look at the changes. She looked at your eyes, still closed, eyelashes dark and perfect.

She turned the engine and drove.

You were going west. She didn’t have a destination. Not a real one. Just the vague echo of hope in the back of her skull that somewhere, someone out there could bring you back. Fix it.

There had to be a way. Science. Magic. Something. People resurrect dogs all the time in books, right?

So why not you? You were better than a dog. You were her.

Day 4

The desert was hot.

Your skin started to blister.

Ellie cried while wiping you down with a cool rag, her hands trembling. “I’m sorry, baby. I should’ve covered you better. You don’t like the sun, remember? You always said it makes you dizzy. I should’ve known.”

She stuffed ice in a towel and placed it under your neck. It melted within an hour.

Day 7

She changed your clothes.

It took two hours. Your limbs were stiff now, resistant, like you were mad at her. She apologized over and over again, kissing your hands, your face, your knees.

“You’re so cold,” she whispered, wrapping you in a hoodie that once belonged to her. “But I’ll warm you up. We just need to keep moving.”

Day 9

She saw the lights in the sky. Or maybe imagined them.

A roadside church with the word “HEALING” painted in blood-red letters drew her attention. She pulled over. Inside, there were no people. Just old books, dry flowers, and a candlelit altar.

She laid you there, right in the center, brushing your hair from your forehead. Then she got on her knees.

Prayed.

For the first time in her life.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please. I love her. I didn’t get to say it. Please just… give her back. I’ll do anything.”

The candles flickered. Her heart stopped. You didn’t move.

Day 12

You smelled worse now.

She lined the truck bed with herbs. Lavender. Mint. Anything she could find.

She kept the windows cracked so you could breathe. She never admitted—never—that you couldn’t. That maybe your lungs had stopped working long ago. Because you still looked peaceful. Still looked like you were sleeping. Still looked like you might say her name if she leaned close enough.

Sometimes she imagined you turning to her. Smiling. She started answering for you. Making conversations in the dark.

“Do you think we’ll find someone?”

Yeah, El. I think so.

“Should I stop driving tonight?”

I like the sound of the road. Keep going.

“Okay. I’ll keep going.”

Day 15

The truck ran out of gas in Arizona.

Ellie dragged your body through the sand, arms bruised and bleeding, sunburnt to hell. She tied you to a door she ripped off an abandoned house and pulled it like a sled. Her boots left deep tracks behind her. Buzzards circled above. But she didn’t look up. Didn’t cry.

Didn’t slow down.

“I’m taking you to the ocean,” she told you. “You always wanted to see it. We’ll go together. We’ll walk into the waves. Maybe that’s what you need.”

Your lips were cracked. Hollow.

But she smiled at you like you’d just said “thank you.”

Day 20

She made it to the coast. Somehow.

Body bruised, fingers blackened, lips crusted and bleeding, Ellie stood barefoot in the surf, your body laid out beside her on the wet sand. The tide rolled in. Foam kissed your toes.

She knelt beside you, her voice shaking. “This is it. If you’re gonna come back… it’ll be here.”

The moon hung above like an unblinking eye.

She took your hand, held it to her chest, pressed her lips to your temple one last time.

“Please.”

Silence.

“Please, wake up.”

Nothing.

The water rose. The stars flickered. Ellie’s tears slid down your dead face.

And then—

In the wind, she heard it.

Faint. Echoing. Gentle.

“I missed you too, El.”

Her mouth broke into a smile.

And when the waves swallowed you both whole, she didn’t fight it.

When Ellie opened her eyes, there was no pain. No sand. No salt. No hunger. No rotting flesh between her fingers. Just warmth. A low golden hum.

And you.

Sitting on the edge of a bed, hair glowing in the soft light. Wearing that shirt she loved on you, the one you always slept in. Your legs curled beneath you, a book open in your lap. You looked up, smiled.

“Hey.” Her breath hitched.

She looked down. Her hands were clean. No blood, no dirt. Her boots were gone. She was barefoot, the floor beneath her soft and cloud-warm.

“…Where…?” she croaked.

You tilted your head. “You’re home.”

Ellie staggered forward like a child learning to walk again, eyes wide, unblinking. “Is this—am I dreaming?”

You didn’t answer. Just opened your arms. She collapsed into them.

The scent of you—pure, unchanged—drenched her brain like a drug. Your skin was warm. Your breath against her ear as you whispered her name made her sob.

“I missed you,” she choked. “I missed you so fucking much.”

You stroked her hair. “I know. I waited.”

The house had no doors. No clocks. No sky. Just soft white light that never dimmed. It existed outside of time. And so did you.

You cooked together. Slept curled in one another’s arms. Sang songs in the silence. She traced your face every night, whispering prayers of thanks to whatever cruel or merciful god had made this possible.

But some things weren’t quite right.

You never left the house.

Never asked her questions.

Never said “I love you” first.

Sometimes, Ellie caught glimpses—your reflection in the window lagging behind, your voice echoing before you spoke, your heartbeat silent when her ear pressed to your chest.

But she ignored it.

Because she had you.

One Day…

She woke up and you weren’t there. The bed was cold. Empty.

She searched the house—every corner, every drawer. Screaming your name until her voice gave out. In the mirror above the sink, her reflection stared at her. But it wasn’t her.

Its eyes were black. Hollow. Its skin cracked. Decaying.

“You took her,” she whispered to it.

“You lost her,” the mirror answered.

She shattered it with her fists.

Later, she found you again. Sitting in the bedroom, combing your hair.

Like nothing had happened.

Ellie fell to her knees. “Please don’t leave again.”

You turned, eyes soft. “I didn’t leave. You just forgot where I was.”

Her hands shook as she touched your cheek. You were still cold.

Colder than before.

As the days passed—if you could call them days—you began to fade.

Literally.

Your edges blurred. Your voice softened into whispers. Your body, once warm, became translucent in the light. Ellie wrapped herself around you each night like armor, like a chain.

“You’re not going anywhere,” she hissed into your hair. “I won’t let you go again.” You didn’t respond. But you wept in your sleep.

One night, she woke up alone again. This time, you didn’t come back.

Ellie searched every room, howling like an animal. Her skin began to flake. Her nails fell off. She bled from the gums. The house, once warm, was now cold stone. Shadows whispered your name, mockingly, again and again and again. She clawed at the walls until they bled with her.

Then she saw the door. The first and only door. At the end of the hallway, pulsing like a wound. She stepped through.

On the other side: Both your bodies washed up by the ocean.

Her body, lying beside it. Rotting. Clutching your arm. And a figure, dressed in black, speaking gently.

“You can’t stay with her forever,” Death murmured. “This was your mind's lie. Your denial. It’s time to go.”

Ellie laughed. “Fuck off.”

She turned around, walked back into the house. Back into the version of you that smiled when she arrived. That never asked her to change. That didn’t cry when she kissed your cold mouth.

She never left again.

Ellie stayed in the house—forever rotting, forever hallucinating. Holding your fading, flickering ghost and convincing herself you were real. And in her head, in her twisted, love-drunk eternity, you always whispered the same thing before sleep:

“I’ll never leave you again.”

And even if it was a lie—

Ellie believed it.

When they eventually found your bodies, the costal shore reeked of sweet sick rot.

Ellie was thin. Hollow. Nails broken. Eyes vacant. But Ellie’s smile is peaceful.

She’s lying beside you, one hand holding your arm, the other clutched around a knife driven straight into her own heart. A blood trail leading from her chest to the outline of your body, as if she were trying to bleed into you. Return to you. Merge with you.

There’s a note, scrawled on the sand:

“She waited for me. I’ll stay with her now.”

ellie with gf reader who speaks another language and gets flustered and cute when she starts talking in her language and gets all shy when reader calls her pet names in her language??

Headcannons: simp!ellie williams x reader

masterlist

authors note: I speak 4 languages. Hebrew, English, Afrikaans and Portuguese. I also understand some Zulu and Xhosa. My natural instinct was to write something in one of these languages but i stopped myself lmao.

It's up to the reader to decide what language you talk!! I kept it as neutral as possible:)

part 2

☆ You speak your native language casually around Ellie without realizing it sometimes—and she just melts when you do.

☆ Ellie doesn’t understand everything, but she definitely knows when you're talking about her—she can tell by your smirk.

☆ She gets caught off guard the first time you call her a pet name in your language. “What did you just say?” she asks, blushing immediately.

☆ You tease her by refusing to translate unless she kisses you.

☆ Ellie starts noticing patterns—tones, facial cues, soft inflections—and slowly deciphers your “love” voice.

☆ She begs you to teach her basic phrases but forgets them constantly—except the ones you say while kissing her.

☆ She looks up your language when you’re not around, trying to memorize the pet names you use for her.

☆ Ellie turns bright red every time she hears you whisper anything in your language, even if it’s innocent.

☆ You once called her “my heart” in your native tongue, and she couldn’t stop smiling for hours.

☆ Ellie pretends she’s cool about it but literally rewinds voice messages to hear you say that one phrase again.

☆ The first time you call her something like “amor” or “ma vie”, she chokes on her drink.

☆ If you ever use a diminutive, like a cute baby-talk form of her name, Ellie completely shuts down. Brain short-circuited.

☆ You whisper a sultry nickname into her ear at a party, and she instantly goes quiet and red-faced.

☆ Ellie doesn’t even ask what it means anymore—just tugs you closer and hides her face in your shoulder.

☆ You say “good morning, beautiful” in your language while half-asleep, and she genuinely forgets how to form a sentence.

☆ Ellie’s weak spot? When you say “my girl” in your language, then kiss her temple.

☆ If you say it while laughing? Game over. She’s gone. Putty.

☆ The moment you use a nickname in public, Ellie goes wide-eyed and blushes to her ears.

☆ You once casually said it over the phone, and Jesse teased her for hours because she started stammering and pacing.

☆ If you say a pet name mid-argument? Instant truce. Ellie’s too dazed to keep fighting.

☆ She downloads Duolingo after one flirty nickname and keeps streaks religiously.

☆ Ellie practices saying your name with your accent in the mirror when you’re not home.

☆ She asks you for pet names she can call you—and fumbles the pronunciation every time.

☆ Once, she accidentally said a dirty word instead of “baby” and you laughed so hard she didn’t recover for ten minutes.

☆ She writes your pet names in her sketchbook like they’re little poems.

☆ Ellie watches foreign films in your language just to “get used to the sounds.”

☆ She points to things and says the name of them in your language—like a toddler learning to speak.

☆ Ellie practices rolling her R’s or changing intonation for days until she gets it right—just to impress you.

☆ She gets super proud when she strings together even a basic sentence in your language.

☆ When she finally says a pet name correctly, she looks to you for praise like a golden retriever.

☆ You switch into your language when you’re half-asleep, and Ellie answers anyway, as if she understands.

☆ You label things around the apartment in both languages. Ellie uses it to quiz herself.

☆ She secretly renames contacts in your phone to match their names in your language.

☆ When you’re sick, she murmurs the few phrases she knows—“rest,” “I got you,” “love you”—with clumsy pronunciation and pure heart.

☆ Ellie talks to your pets in your language, like “come here, little one” with the worst accent imaginable.

☆ She types “how do I say ‘I miss you’ in [language]” into Google when you’re gone for a few days.

☆ Ellie loves when you get frustrated in your language—it’s passionate and raw and reminds her how brilliant you are.

☆ She keeps your texts and rereads the ones in your language even if she only knows what half of them mean.

☆ You playfully insult her in your language and she still blushes like you just proposed.

☆ If you're mad and speak fully in your language, Ellie just sits there and takes it because she lowkey loves hearing it.

☆ You surprise her in the morning with a kiss and a softly spoken pet name—she covers her face with a pillow.

☆ You once called her “my love” in public and she had to physically walk away for a second to cool off.

☆ You say “mine” in your native tongue while gripping her waist and Ellie’s knees go weak.

☆ Whisper something in your language against her neck, and Ellie just melts into a puddle of incoherent affection.

☆ You say a pet name right before she’s about to leave for work—she ends up forgetting her keys, phone, and dignity.

☆ When you introduce her to friends or family and call her something sweet in your language, she stiffens up like a statue—then blushes for an hour.

☆ If you ever use a nickname when you're annoyed (like sarcastically), it flusters her even more—"Don't make that cute when you're mad."

☆ The first time she overhears you talking about her on the phone and hears a flirty nickname, she’s just—done. Gone. Face in her hands.

☆ You once moaned a pet name during sex and Ellie physically froze for a moment, overwhelmed.

☆ She secretly records a video of you saying her favorite nickname and listens to it when she misses you.

☆ Ellie asks you to say it again when you call her something sweet mid-cuddle—then buries her face into your chest.

☆ She loves lying in bed while you softly murmur in your language against her skin.

☆ You write her a birthday card using both languages, and she tears up at the familiar pet name scribbled at the end.

☆ Ellie can’t stop smiling when you whisper something affectionate to her in your language after sex—it grounds her, makes her feel yours.

☆ She gets really flustered when you start talking dirty in your language but don’t translate.

☆ You once said a full love confession in your language while looking into her eyes—and she cried even without knowing every word.

☆ When you teach her how to say “I love you” properly, she holds onto it like a treasure.

☆ If she messes up the pronunciation of your name or a word, you kiss her anyway—and she gets all flustered and giddy.

☆ She tries to surprise you with a sentence she memorized from your language, but it’s jumbled and adorable.

☆ You once made her a playlist of love songs in your native tongue, and now she associates certain phrases with your voice and scent.

☆ Ellie gets super curious about how your culture uses language differently—like how tone or phrasing reflects love.

☆ When she meets your family or old friends and hears them use your pet name for her, she nearly short-circuits.

☆ You give her a nickname that’s untranslatable—a word that means more than English ever could—and she cherishes it quietly.

☆ Ellie doodles your pet name with little hearts next to it in her notebook when she’s bored in meetings.

☆ If you're upset and switch to your language because you're flustered, Ellie just hugs you and whispers, “Say it again... just like that.”

☆ She jokes about getting it tattooed on her somewhere secret—but she’s 100% serious.

☆ Ellie introduces you to people and says, “This is my girlfriend,” then adds the pet name under her breath with a dumb smile.

☆ You once wrote her a love letter in your language. She didn’t understand it until you translated—then she reread it every day for a week.

☆ Ellie has a contact name for you in her phone that’s just the pet name in your language. With a stupid amount of hearts.

☆ Years later, she still gets butterflies when you lean in and whisper her nickname—because it never stopped being magic to her.

requesting a smut fic with reader x loser!ellie based on in my feelings by Lana del Rey!! And the song being from readers pov

In my feelings - (loser!ellie williams x reader)

hi anon! firstly this is my first time writing smut, so I'm sorry if it sucks lmao:) and also Lana Del Rey fucking slaps, I hope you enjoy<3

This story is based off the song in my feelings by Lana Del Rey, if you can please listen to the song as you're reading:)

(I had to rewrite this twice because every time I wrote it according to the lyrics I always ended up with a angst fic, so this is just a smut piece. There are references to the song in the story.)

Pairing- loser!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: MDNI 18+, smut, fingering (r receiving), oral (r receiving), porn no plot, inexperienced Ellie, cigarettes, sex, domish reader, this sucks, lmk if I missed anything!

Summary: In which you showed a loser, a great time

You brought the cigarette to your lips as you inhaled the smoke, your head rolled back as you blew it out from your lips.

You looked up and saw Ellie staring at you like a lost puppy.

"Have you ever done this before?" you asked her as you took another puff from your cigarette.

You watched as she shyly looked to the ground.

"Open your mouth and answer me Ellie" you demanded enjoying how easily you could make her nervous.

"n-no ma'am" she stuttered.

You chucked as you put out your cigarette on the ash tray beside you. Ellie watched your fingers as you lowered the cigarette, how delicate they looked, she wondered what they would feel like.

Ellie was snapped from her thoughts when she heard your voice.

"Come here"

You watched as she blinked a couple of times.

"Do I need to repeat myself?"

"no sorry" she mumbled and she made made her away towards you.

"Crawl"

"what?" Ellie looked at you with wide eyes.

She looked so fucking innocent. So pure. It turned you on so much knowing that you had the ability to destroy her.

"Get on the floor and crawl to me"

You sat back on the couch, you slightly opened your legs revealing the pink lace underwear you wore underneath your skirt.

"I can see your underwear" Ellie pointed out. She was trying to be respectful, but she couldn't take her eyes away from your clothed cunt.

"do you like it?" you asked.

A pink shade appeared on her cheeks as she looked down to her shoes. She let out a hum of agreement.

Yeah she did like it.

She wanted to see more.

"Come on Ellie get on your knees"

You watched as she fell to her knees, crawling to you like a dog. A smile appeared on your face as you watched the mighty Ellie Williams crawl towards you.

No one else but you.

Ellie sat directly in front of you staring at your pretty face waiting for her next instruction.

You opened up your legs, your lace panties practically see through at this point from how wet you were. You heard Ellie whimper as the sight.

"So pretty" she mumbled.

"wait till you see what's underneath" You spoke with a grin.

"Touch me Ellie"

Her hands immediately went to your underwear. She gently started rubbing you through your underwear.

Ellie watched as the damp spot on your underwear grow, and she felt her own arousal, her panties were so fucking wet and her thighs were slick with her own arousal.

You let out a soft moan as you felt her rub soft, slow and gentle circles. She leaned forward to leave a soft kiss on the clothed area.

Your body shuddered at the feeling.

Ellie started slowly making out with your clothed cunt, she just wanted a taste, but the stupid piece of fabric was in her way, it wasn't only making Ellie mad it was frustrating you too.

It was good but it wasn't enough to make you cum.

"Get up"

"what?" Ellie asked confused.

"Just get up"

She stood up in an instant watching you grab your phone.

You played in my feelings by Lana Del Rey as you lit another cigarette. You took another puff before slowly swaying your hips to the music.

"I'm smoking while I'm runnin' on my treadmill

But I'm cutting up roses

Could it be that I fell for another loser"

you sang as you continued to breathe in the smoke. You slowly started stripping, removing your shit, you briefly made eye contact with Ellie before her eyes fell to your chest.

You were wearing a matching pink lace bra, and Ellie felt herself dripping.

You slowly put the cigarette between your lips as you unclasped your bra. The piece of fabric fell to the floor as you heard Ellie out a quite "woah" at the sight of your chest.

Your hands came up to your chest as you took your breast into your palm, you slowly moved your hand up pinching your nipples, your head flew back the sensation.

You let out a moan, as you felt the buds harden under your touch.

Your hips continued to sway as you looked at Ellie and you pulled your skirt and panties off. You bent down, putting out the cigarette as you picked up your panties and you threw it towards her.

Ellie desperately caught it, bringing it to her nose. She breathed in the scent of your juices and she let out a loud moan. You watched as her eyes rolled to the back of her head before she stuffed your panties into her pocket.

"Please- please let me touch you"

You almost moaned at the sound of her begging.

You slowly made your way to the couch as you bent over, raising your ass and cunt into the air.

Easy access

As you were bent over you quickly made the music louder to drown out the sound of what was about to happen.

You looked over your shoulders seeing Ellie stare at you in awe.

What a fucking loser.

You slightly shook your ass.

"Come on Ellie isn't this what you wanted?"

Ellie fell to her knees immediately crawling to you. She faced your cunt she watched your swollen pussy clench around nothing.

You slightly jumped forward with a shocked moan when you felt Ellie lick a long stripe your pussy. Ellie had her eyes closed as she let out a moan.

"So wet" she muttered. After a few seconds of silence and no movement you suddenly felt Ellie's fingers open you up and before you could say anything she inserted her tongue into you.

You let out a moan, and quickly you felt a coil tighten in your stomach.

"fuckkkk... just like that pretty girl" you breathed out in a long moan.

You heard Ellie moan from behind you, and it send vibrations to your cunt. Your mouth fell open at the sensation.

Ellie put two fingers into your cunt as she continued sucking your clit and attacking your sensitive pussy with her tongue.

"Fuck- you're such a fucking loser" Ellie heard you talk above her. "You- you can't even talk to me I public now- now you're e-eating me out like I'm your last meal"

Ellie let out a moan at your words and she felt herself clench, she was going to cum and you didn't even touch her, how pathetic.

Ellie hit that special spot and you let out a high pitched moan.

"Right there baby, please don't stop"

Ellie fingers sped up, her sucking became harsher, and your moans grew louder.

You were close.

You clenched around Ellie's fingers, and she let out a loud moan. The vibrations triggered your orgasm.

You saw white and your whole body felt numb. You didn't feel real, it felt like you were floating- no flying actually. You felt so fucking good.

With heavy breathes, you opened your eyes and you breathed out a quick good girl to Ellie.

You turned around to face her as she lay on the floor, her eyes were closed but she had a huge smile on her face.

"Did you just come?" You asked Ellie as you heavily breathed.

You watched as she opened her eyes and she started at you for a few seconds.

"No"

"are you lying to me Ellie?"

"yeah... that was the hardest I ever came" she admitted.

"Aw poor baby, I didn't didn't touch her and she soaked her panties" you teased.

All Ellie did was look away shyly.

She anxiously played with her fingers. She wanted to ask you something. But she was so fucking terrified.

Maybe she was a fucking loser.

"Can we go again? Ellie asked, looking at you with a fucked out expression. Her lips were slightly swollen and glossy with her saliva and your cum.

Still heavily breathing you gave Ellie a smile.

"let me get a taste of you too pretty girl"

Authors note: well this sucked, I've never written smut and I'm so scared to publish it lmao, also two posts in one day???? wow I'm on another lever. Remember you are loved and to always be kind.

Yours truly,

Zia:)

YOURE BACKKK!!!!! missed you very much <333

DADDYS HOMEEEEE!!! I MISSED ALL OF YOUUUI<333

Headcannons: professor!ellie williams x reader

masterlist

professor ellie masterlist

☆ Ellie starts wanting a baby years before she tells you. She doesn’t want to push. But god—she aches to see you round and glowing.

☆ She starts watching documentaries on child development “for work.” You catch her crying during one where a toddler says “mama.”

☆ She writes about generational memory in one of her lectures. But all she’s really thinking is: what will our child inherit from us?

☆ Her obsession turns tender when she starts sketching you as a mother. Always with a soft smile. Always holding a baby that has her freckles.

☆ She kisses your stomach even before there’s anything there. Whispers, “One day, okay? One day it’s gonna be you and me and them.”

☆ When she finally brings it up, it’s not even planned. You’re brushing your teeth and she just says: “I think I want to see you pregnant. Like… soon.”

☆ Ellie has spreadsheets. Timelines. Budget plans. She’s already read four peer-reviewed studies on IVF success rates.

☆ She insists you both go to the consultation together. She sits up straight. Takes notes. Holds your hand the entire time.

☆ She wants you to carry the baby. “You’re the heart. I’m just the idiot who fell first.”

☆ But if you say you want her to carry instead, she’ll agree in a heartbeat. As long as the baby’s ours. She doesn’t care whose blood. Just whose home.

☆ Ellie becomes obsessed with understanding every part of IVF. Hormones, egg retrieval, implantation timelines. She could teach a course by now.

☆ She schedules everything for you. Alarms. Calendar syncs. She’s even got backups if the power goes out.

☆ She brings a notebook to every appointment. Takes detailed notes and asks the doctor questions like she’s in a thesis defense.

☆ She cries the first time she sees the ultrasound of the fertilized embryo. It hasn’t even implanted yet. She’s already in love.

☆ She leaves sticky notes all over the apartment: “Drink water for them.” “Rest for them.” “I love both of you.”

☆ Ellie won’t let you lift a thing. “Let me,” she murmurs, grabbing grocery bags. “I’m doing this for them.”

☆ She talks to your belly even before implantation. “Hi, it’s me. The one who’ll embarrass you at soccer games.”

☆ She sets up the nursery the day after the positive test. You’re still in shock. Ellie’s already building a crib.

☆ She frames the first ultrasound. Carries it in her wallet. Kisses it when she misses you during lectures.

☆ Every student on campus knows you’re pregnant. Because Ellie won’t shut up about you. “My wife is growing life. What’d you do this week?”

☆ Ellie kisses your bump every morning like it’s ritual. Before brushing her teeth. Before breakfast. Before speaking.

☆ She reads to the baby. Lectures from her thesis. Sonnets. Journal entries about you.

☆ She updates her academic blog weekly about the “miracle of queer family-making.” All anonymously. But every post is full of you.

☆ She creates a playlist called “Songs for the Bump.” Track one is the song you danced to at your wedding.

☆ She sobs the first time she feels the baby kick. Full-body, trembling sobs. “They said hi. Did you feel that? They said hi!”

☆ Ellie becomes extra possessive in public. One stranger stares too long at your belly and she’s gripping your waist like a warning.

☆ She buys a fetal doppler monitor. She checks the heartbeat daily. Says it soothes her more than coffee.

☆ She makes the baby a custom stuffed dinosaur with your initials embroidered on it. “They’ll fall asleep with you before they even know your voice.”

☆ She’s at every check-up, every class, every session. If she can’t make it, she sends in a list of questions and Skypes in.

☆She talks to the bump like it’s already here. “We’re gonna have tea parties and talk about queer theory before you’re five, okay?”

☆ Ellie builds a rotating baby bookshelf by hand. Organized by age-appropriateness and genre.

☆ She writes a lullaby. Two versions: acoustic and violin. You catch her crying while recording the second.

☆ She attends parenting classes and brings three notepads. Her notes have subheadings and citations.

☆ She starts referring to herself as “Mama Ellie.” Even signs texts that way to you. “Do you want apples or pears? Love, Mama Ellie.”

☆ She keeps a pregnancy journal addressed to the baby. Starts each one: “Dear tiny scholar,”

☆ She makes a family crest. It has a book, a flower, and a dinosaur.

“This is who we are now.”

☆ She writes an academic paper on LGBTQ+ parenthood. And dedicates it: “To my wife and our soon-to-be reason to breathe.”

☆ She builds a playlist for labor. It starts with gentle indie, ends with your wedding vows in voice memo form.

☆ Ellie reads parenting blogs until 3am. Then wakes you up like, “Babe, did you know baby ears finish forming at 20 weeks?”

☆ She buys a tiny matching leather jacket for the baby. You didn’t even know they made them that small.

☆ Ellie stays calm—externally when you go into labor. Internally? She’s dying. Hyperventilating. “Is she okay? Is our baby okay?”

☆ She holds your hand and your leg. “Push, baby, you’ve got this—I’m here—I’ve got both of you.”

☆ The second the baby cries, she breaks. Drops to her knees. Sobs into your thigh. “She’s here. She’s here. She’s here.”

☆ She cuts the cord with trembling hands. Then kisses you, kisses the baby, kisses you again.

☆ it was a girl. The prettiest baby Ellie had ever seen. You named her: Aurora Bloom Williams

☆ She doesn’t sleep the first night. Just holds the baby against her chest and stares, whispering: "I’ve waited my whole life for you.”

☆ Ellie insists on skin-to-skin. “You were inside her. You were part of her. Let me hold that history.”

☆ She calls Aurora “little thesis.” “She’s proof. That love can be built. Studied. Protected.”

☆ Her phone is filled with photos—1,492 in the first week.

☆ She cries the first time she sees you breastfeeding. “You’re feeding our future. I don’t even have words.”

☆ She creates a lullaby version of your wedding song. Plays it every night while rocking the baby.

☆ Ellie refuses to work late anymore. “My whole world’s waiting at home. I’ve got nothing left to prove.”

☆ She makes flashcards for the baby before she's 6 months old. “Early stimulation is key, babe.”

☆ She tattoos the baby’s birthdate under her ribcage. Where you once carried her.

☆ Her office has a photo of the baby, you, and the first ultrasound. That’s her holy trinity.

☆ She kisses the baby’s forehead and says, “You have no idea how wanted you were.” Every. Single. Night.

☆ She gives the baby a “graduation ceremony” from tummy time. Cap, gown, little speech.

☆ She makes baby food from scratch. Then journals how each flavor went over.

☆ She makes you both matching shirts: “Professor Mama” / “Muse Mama” / “Tiny Intern”

☆ She introduces the baby to books like she’s meeting royalty. “This is The Very Hungry Caterpillar. You’ll love him.”

☆ She sobs at the first “mama.” “You heard that, right? That was me. That was me.”

☆ She wants another by year one. “We have room. And love. So much love.”

☆ She writes letters to the baby every birthday. Seals them in a box for their 18th.

☆ She never misses a milestone. First steps? She has a lecture cancelled.

☆ She paints a mural in the baby’s room. Night sky, constellations, dinosaurs. Your story.

☆ Ellie journals about motherhood. “This is the smartest thing I’ve ever done.”

☆ She teaches the baby to say “I love Mama and Mommy.” Cries every time.

☆ She celebrates you on Mother’s Day like a goddess. “You made life. You made me better.”

☆ She carries a picture of you both during lectures. “To remind me what all this is for.”

☆ At night, when the baby’s asleep, she whispers: “We made a life. And she made ours worth it.”