Hi Okay So Hear Me Out , Fem Reader X Mean Ellie, So The Reader Feels Insecure About Her Looks And Ellie

bbf ellie pls!!! brother/sister’s best friend🙏🙏 maybe ellie is like a family friend and a bit older than reader

headcannons: brothers best friend!ellie williams x reader

masterlist

part 2

☆ Ellie first noticed you when you were still in high school, all wide-eyed and trailing after your older brother. She thought you were adorable but too young to even consider.

☆ The first time she saw you laughing over something dumb on your phone, that soft, genuine sound made her stop mid-conversation with your brother.

☆ You once walked into the kitchen in pajama shorts while she and your brother were gaming — Ellie almost dropped her controller.

☆ Ellie liked how you never treated her like “just his friend.” You joked with her, made sarcastic comments — you treated her like an equal. That stuck with her.

☆ She found herself watching you in the background — during family BBQs, movie nights, or when you'd pass behind the couch to grab snacks.

☆ She memorized the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were nervous.

☆ You gave her a birthday card once — a dorky handmade one. She kept it. It's still in her drawer.

☆ One day, she heard you singing in your room when you didn’t know anyone else was home. She leaned against the wall and listened like it was a private concert.

☆ She started looking forward to hearing about you — from your brother, or anyone, really.

☆ She once overheard you rant about a book or movie, and it made her grin so hard she had to bite her cheek to hide it.

☆ Your passion for random things charmed her — even if it was stupid stuff like organizing your closet by color.

☆ She started teasing you more often, just to get that annoyed scrunch in your brows.

☆ The way your nose crinkled when you were confused made her want to kiss it. She had to shut those thoughts down fast.

☆ You were the background of her life for so long — and then, slowly, you became the main focus without her even noticing.

☆ The moment she realized she was crushing hard? You came home from college break wearing a tank top and eyeliner, and she couldn’t look away.

☆ She starts coming over more, even when your brother isn't home. “Thought I’d wait for him,” she lies.

☆ She brings snacks she knows you like and pretends they’re for everyone.

☆ She subtly defends you during any teasing from your brother. “Leave her alone, she’s smarter than both of us.”

☆ When you post on social media, she’s always the first to view it. She never likes it though — just watches in silence.

☆ Ellie makes playlists she claims are for gaming, but they’re secretly full of songs that remind her of you.

☆ If you mention liking a band or movie, she’ll binge it that night.

☆ She keeps a photo of your family on her phone — because you’re in it.

☆ She starts sitting next to you on the couch more often, her thigh brushing yours.

☆ She laughs at all your jokes — even when they’re bad.

☆ You once accidentally touched her hand while passing something — she froze and replayed that moment for days.

☆ She secretly changes her cologne after you once said, “You smell good today.”

☆ When you're upset, she’s the first one to ask what’s wrong — sometimes more invested than your own brother.

☆ She offers you her hoodie when you’re cold and doesn’t ask for it back.

☆ Her texts to you are rare but thoughtful. She sends memes she knows only you'd get.

☆ She always remembers little details — your favorite cereal, your exam dates, your dog’s name.

☆ She stops flirting with random girls when you’re around.

☆ She makes you coffee exactly the way you like it when she’s over in the mornings.

☆ You once joked about marrying a rich musician. Ellie was irrationally annoyed all day.

☆ She buys a video game she hates just because you said you wanted to try it.

☆ She always acts cooler around you — leans against walls, deeper voice, more aloof — until she stumbles or knocks something over.

☆ She absolutely hates hearing about your crushes or dates. Her smile gets tight. Her tone sharpens.

☆ She once googled the guy you were seeing. Just to “check him out.”

☆ When you go to a party, she subtly interrogates your brother about who's there.

☆ She’ll tease you for flirting, but only to hide the jealousy brewing underneath.

☆ You once called her “like a big sister” and she couldn’t sleep that night.

☆ If someone else compliments you, she always has to top it with something witty or sarcastic.

☆ She fakes disinterest when you talk about your love life — but listens to every detail.

☆ She once interrupted a date by “accidentally” showing up at the same place.

☆ She texts you randomly when you're out late. “Just making sure you’re not dead.”

☆ She glares (subtly) at any guy who stands too close to you.

☆ Her whole mood shifts when you’re dressed up for someone else.

☆ She gets more reckless when she’s upset about you — smokes more, drives faster.

☆ You once wore her hoodie in front of your brother and his friends — and she couldn’t stop staring.

☆ When you joke about having a “type,” she always mutters, “That’s not even your type.”

☆ She daydreams about you choosing her — saying “fuck your brother’s opinion” and kissing her first.

☆ She writes about you in her journal under a code name.

☆ She doodles your initials when bored — tiny and hidden in the corners of pages.

☆ She listens to voicemails from you over and over if you’ve ever left one.

☆ Her lock screen changes to a picture from the last group hangout — with you in focus.

☆ She goes out of her way to drive you places when your brother can't.

☆ When you're sick, she's over with medicine before your brother even thinks of it.

☆ She once punched a guy who made a joke about you — claimed it was "just disrespect."

☆ She memorizes your class schedule and mentally calculates when you’ll be home.

☆ When you’re alone with her, she acts like you’re the only thing that matters.

☆ She imagines a future with you constantly — what your place would look like, what you'd cook together.

☆ She keeps a trinket you gave her years ago — a bracelet or pin — hidden in a drawer.

☆ She hates being called “just a friend” by you. It eats her alive.

☆ She sometimes types texts to confess, stares at them, then deletes them.

☆ She leaves anonymous song suggestions on your Spotify. You never know it's her.

☆ She watches how you interact with others — always comparing, always hoping you treat her a little different.

☆ One night, she sees you cry over someone who didn’t deserve you — and it physically hurts her.

☆ She finally admits to herself that she’s not just crushing. She’s in love with you.

☆ She starts avoiding you for a while — it’s too painful to be close without saying anything.

☆ When she comes back around, she’s quieter, more intense — her eyes linger longer, her jokes come with an edge.

☆ The final straw? You tell her one night: “I always liked you more than any of my brother’s friends.” And she knows she can’t keep hiding.

OR UUST LIKE THE FIRST TIME THEY DO IT SHES SO GENTLE

Headcannons: professor!ellie williams x reader

masterlist

professor ellie masterlist

warning: NSFW content! MDNI 18+

☆ Ellie’s stares linger — too long, too intense. She’s studied every detail of your face, from the way your lashes lower when you're flustered to how your lips twitch when you’re nervous.

☆ Even before anything happens, she’s gently possessive. Walking you to your car. Checking if you’ve eaten. Leaving you notes like: “Don’t skip meals. Your brain’s too pretty to starve.”

☆ Study sessions blur into deep, aching conversations. Ellie leans close, hand brushing yours “accidentally” more often, and when your knees touch, she doesn’t pull away.

☆ She tests the waters. A hand on your thigh during a shared laugh. Fingers brushing your lower back as she moves past you. Every time, she watches your reaction like it’s data.

☆ Ellie never rushes. She peels back your fears and walls with quiet intimacy — until you're exposed emotionally long before you are physically.

☆ She thinks about you constantly, but she buries the filthier thoughts — for now. She wants the first time to be something you remember forever. Something clean. Almost holy.

☆ It finally happens when you fall asleep in her office during a rainstorm. You’re curled up in her chair, cheeks soft, lips parted. She presses her hand to her heart and mutters, “Fuck, I love you.”

☆ Ellie is slow, deliberate. She asks, “Are you sure?” more than once. Not because she doubts you — but because she can’t believe she finally gets to have you like this.

☆ She doesn’t rush. Every kiss feels like a poem. Every touch is a sentence. She wants to memorize you.

☆ Ellie never stops looking at you. Her voice drops to a whisper, “Let me see you,” and every time your eyes flutter shut, she kisses them open.

☆ She undresses you like she’s unwrapping something sacred. Fingers trembling, voice low: “You’re so beautiful… God, you’re unreal.”

☆ She trails kisses down your neck, your chest, your stomach — pausing to breathe you in like she’s trying to brand the memory into her bones.

☆ She can’t shut up. “You’re perfect,” “You feel like heaven,” “I’ve waited so long for this.” Every word from her lips is soaked in reverence.

☆ She touches you with unbearable care — slow, attentive, gentle enough to make you cry. She whispers, “Tell me what feels good. I want to do it right.”

☆ She nearly tears up when you moan her name for the first time. “Don’t say it like that,” she chokes, “I’m gonna lose it.”

☆ She lets you undress her too — biting her lip as your hands explore. She’s shy, almost bashful, but you can tell how much it affects her.

☆ Between kisses, she leans her forehead against yours. “I’ve never wanted someone like this,” she murmurs, brushing her thumb over your cheek.

☆ There’s no teasing, no performance. It’s raw and honest — Ellie letting herself be soft and human in a way she never shows anyone else.

☆ She keeps whispering your name, like it’s a lifeline. “You’re mine, aren’t you?” she asks, not possessively — but like she’s in awe that it’s real.

☆ She laces your fingers together while inside you. It grounds her. Anchors her to the moment. “Don’t let go,” she says. “Please.”

☆ She wraps you in her arms after — tucks the blanket over you, tucks herself behind you, hand splayed across your stomach like she’s protecting something precious.

☆ She mumbles things in your hair. “You feel like home,” “I’ve wanted this for so long,” “You’re everything.” Half-asleep, full of emotion.

☆ In her mind, she promises: This is only the beginning. I’ll learn every inch of her body. I’ll make her fall apart in a thousand new ways.

☆ After that first time, Ellie starts asking questions. “Do you like it when I hold your wrists?” “What if I got rougher next time?”

☆ You catch glimpses — how her eyes darken when you whimper, how she clenches her jaw when you say please.

☆ She gently pins your hands one night — just to see how you react. When you moan? Her whole body shudders.

☆ The next time, she kisses you harder. Her voice gains weight. She starts giving soft orders. “Spread your legs. Good girl.”

☆ Ellie realizes she loves having control — not to dominate, but to cherish and undo you. Her obsession becomes deeper, darker.

☆ She brings it out a toy nervously, checking your expression. “We don’t have to—” but when you nod, the switch flips. She grins like she’s been waiting for this.

☆ She’s addicted to every reaction you give. The soft gasps. The bitten lip. The trust. She knows she could break you — and the only reason she doesn’t is because she loves you too much.

Heyy!! I was randomly thinking about a scenario where the reader and Ellie are cuddling on a cold night. The reader's hands are very cold, and Ellie warms them up in various ways. For example, Ellie would use her own hands, and her breath or something to warm them up 😭

oh my god anon, imagine how sweet she would be😭

warnings: tooth rotting fluff and one suggestive joke

You shivered as a cool breeze blew into you and Ellie’s shared room.

You thought you closed it.

Ellie lay behind you, her arm wrapped around your waist and your legs tangled.

On a cold night such as this one, she was always keeping you warm. You loved cuddling with Ellie in the winter but as soon as summer rolled around you didn’t want to be close to her.

Her warm skin pressed against yours warmed you up almost immediately. The only part of your body that wasn’t feeling your girlfriends’ warmth was your hands.

They were fucking freezing.

You were sure that if you didn’t do anything they would freeze off.

You gently turned around in Ellie’s tight grip trying not to wake her up. After a few minutes of struggle, you faced her and a smile spread across your lips. She looked so innocent and sweet. Her brows were slightly furrowed; her lips were pouted.

She was so fucking cute.

You were snapped out of your admiring gaze when you felt another shiver run down your spine once again. You slowly lifted up your hands, as you pulled up Ellie’s shirt to reveal her waist. You placed your cold hands on her waist.

She was so warm.

Ellie’s eyes shot open, and she sat up immediately yelling “what the fuck!?”

You looked at her with doe eyes “hi baby” you breathed

“dude why are your hands so fucking cold?” she said shivering. Her eyes were puffy, her hair was messy, and her voice hoarse.

You sat up with her “I don’t know els, but can you help me? You’re just so warm and I thought you could help” you admitted as you looked down at your hands.

You felt Ellie’s hand touch your shoulder and her other hand was under your chin forcing you to look at her “yeah I’ll help” she with a smile “but only if you give me a kiss”

You rolled your eyes at her request before you leaned forward to give her a slow kiss but you quickly pulled away knowing what would happen if you kiss for too long.

“why’d you pull away?”

“Ellie we both know you won’t stop”

A smirk appeared on her lips “you love it though”

“shut up and help me”

Ellie chuckled as she took your hands into hers.

She was really fucking warm.

You watched as she gently took your cold hands and brought them up to her lips, as left warm open mouthed kisses on your hands.

You immediately felt warmer.

“is it working?” she asked

“almost I’m still a little cold” you replied

A frown appeared on her lips, she was thinking of another way, before her eyes lit up.

“lay down”

“what?”

“baby just listen to me” Ellie begged.

You nodded as you lay on your back. Ellie lay on your chest soon after letting out a sigh as the feeling.

“How is this supposed to help?”

“look” she started as she grabbed your hands, and putting it into her shirt. You cold hands on her skin made her shiver but after a while you finally felt the warmth you craved.

After laying in silence for a while you fell asleep and Ellie carefully got up. She closed the window and she put fuzzy socks onto your feet. She looked down at your sleeping frame and a smile spread on to her face.

She truly loved you, cold hands and all. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

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.

hellooo

I’m obsessed w the song Drunk, Running by Lizzy McAlpine. do you think you could write a ellie x reader based on that song plsss 🥺

thx so much!!

Drunk, Running - ellie williams x reader

hi anon! I had two ideas for the ending, lmk if you want a different version!! I hope you enjoy:)

this story is based off the song, Drunk, Running by Lizzy McAlpine. If you can listen to the song as you're reading:)

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

requests are open, send me your thoughts and ideas!!

warnings: codependent relationship themes, alcohol use, emotional manipulation (subtle, mutual), unresolved trauma, toxic dynamic, mentions of anxiety/panic

summary: 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.

masterlist

You don’t remember how you got here.

Not the room—you know this place like your own heartbeat. You could walk it blindfolded. It’s the ache in your ribs, the burn in your lungs, the sting of regret creeping up your throat that you can’t place.

Ellie’s doorway leans the same way it always has. Crooked. Waiting.

And she’s there. She’s always there.

Sitting on the edge of her bed with a cigarette between her fingers, head tilted back, red eyes glossy like she’s already lived this night a thousand times. Like she’s been here before, waiting for you to walk in and fall apart in front of her.

“Been drinkin’ again?” she asks.

You nod. She doesn’t move. And neither do you.

You taste vodka and guilt, and something like hope when you whisper, “I couldn’t sleep.”

She shrugs, tapping ash into the same cracked mug she never washes. “I didn’t ask.”

That should’ve hurt. Maybe it does.

But you’re not here for kindness. You’re here because this is the only place where the world stops spinning, even if it’s just for a second.

Even if the stillness breaks you. Even if it’s Ellie breaking you.

“I walked here,” you say, trying to fill the silence that’s pressing hard against your ears. “Didn’t even put on shoes.”

“You’re gonna cut your feet,” she murmurs. She still won’t look at you.

“They’re already bleeding.”

Finally, her eyes meet yours.

And for a second, there’s a flicker of something softer. A glint of that girl who once traced constellations across your shoulder blades in the dark and called you her galaxy.

“You always come back,” she says, like it’s a curse.

You blink. “I always leave.”

“You always come back drunk.”

You laugh, bitter. “Maybe that’s the only time I’m brave enough.”

Ellie’s jaw flexes. You know that expression. She’s doing math in her head, counting how many times you’ve done this. Walked in, broken. Asked her to fix you. Let her hold you. Only to walk out again with your ribs sewn shut and your voice hoarse from the things you never said.

“You ever wonder if we just—" she stops, runs a hand through her hair, frustrated. “If we’re only this because we’re scared to be something else?”

Your throat goes dry. She never talks like this. Not when she’s sober. Not when you’re not.

“I think we’re poison,” you whisper.

She scoffs. “Then why do you keep drinking me?”

You step toward her like your bones are moving without permission. Like they remember the way she feels before your mind does. Like they’re in love with her even when you’ve forgotten how.

“’Cause it’s the only thing that makes it stop hurting.”

Ellie doesn’t pull away when you kneel in front of her. When your head falls into her lap. When your hands clutch at her thighs like a lifeline. Her fingers slip into your hair, gentle. Devastating. Like nothing’s wrong.

Like this isn’t killing both of you.

“You smell like cheap vodka and bad choices,” she says, but it’s so soft you almost think she’s trying to love you with the words.

“I miss you,” you breathe.

“You don’t,” she says back. “You miss the version of me who let you run.”

The silence drapes over the room like fog.

“I miss the version of me who didn’t,” you finally whisper.

And that’s when she leans down, foreheads touching, breath against your lips like a promise neither of you know how to keep.

“You were never supposed to love me like this,” she says, and you feel it like a knife.

“You taught me how,” you reply, and she shatters in your hands.

She kisses you like a warning. You kiss her like a prayer.

And it’s all teeth and memory and the kind of desperation that tastes like blood. Her hands grip your waist like she’s trying to hold together something that’s already cracked.

She lays you down. You let her. You always let her.

And when she curls around you after, her voice barely audible, she asks the same question she always does.

“Will you stay this time?”

And you give the same answer you always do.

“I don’t know how.”

You leave in the morning. You always do.

And behind you, Ellie lights another cigarette, watches the sunrise she never asked for, and whispers into the silence: I would’ve waited forever.

Ellie hadn’t realized the silence was healing her until the ache stopped being the first thing she felt when she woke up. It started subtly.

Your name stopped echoing every time her phone buzzed. Her hands stopped trembling at 3AM. She stopped checking the sidewalk in front of her apartment like you’d be barefoot again, drunk, bleeding, mumbling something about needing to be held.

She stopped waiting for you to come undone in her doorway. And in the quiet you left behind, she started building a life that didn’t require loving you in pieces.

She read more. Fixed the broken step on her porch. Learned how to cook something other than grilled cheese. Stopped sleeping in the middle of the bed. Not because she expected you back, but because it felt better.

Peaceful, even.

She thought of you sometimes. Of course she did.

The way you smiled when you were too tired to fake it. The way your hands always shook when you said you didn’t care. The way you used her like a lighthouse, then cursed the fire when you got too close.

You never meant to be cruel. But that didn’t make it less cruel.

Still, Ellie never stopped loving you. She just stopped setting herself on fire to keep you warm.

And so, when your knock finally came—not a drunken stumble, not a crash, just one soft tap-tap-tap—Ellie was already standing.

Barefoot. Coffee in hand. Awake before dawn because she’d stopped dreading it.

When she opened the door and saw you—sober, eyes clear, jacket zipped—it was like meeting someone entirely new. Or maybe someone you were before the chaos.

“Hey,” you said.

Her throat was dry. “Hey.”

You smiled, almost sheepish. “I didn’t come to fall apart this time.”

That made her chest seize up in ways she wasn’t ready for.

You stood there, hands buried in your coat pockets, shifting like you didn’t know if you had the right to be here anymore. Like you didn’t expect her to open the door.

“I just…” you licked your lips. “I’ve been trying. I’ve been going to therapy. I’ve stopped drinking. It’s been four months. I journal. I even got a cat.”

Ellie blinked. “You hate cats.”

“She hates me too. It’s a good match.”

That pulled a soft laugh out of her, unfiltered. You looked so… real. Not desperate. Not frantic. Not aching.

“I’ve missed you,” you said. “But not like before. Not like… like you’re the only thing keeping me alive. I just… miss you. Not the pain. Not the mess.”

She leaned against the doorframe, letting herself exhale.

“Why now?” she asked. “Why today?”

You bit your lip. “Because for the first time, I wasn’t scared to be alone. And I think… maybe that means I’m ready to be with someone. Not to survive. Just to be.”

She wanted to say something poetic. Something that sounded like closure or beginning or both.

But all she could manage was: “Do you want to come in?”

You smiled like it meant everything.

“Only if you want me to.”

Ellie stepped aside. And this time, you walked in with your shoes on, your voice steady, your hands not shaking.

You didn’t fall into her arms like you were drowning. You stood beside her. Still. Sober.

And when she reached for your hand, it wasn’t trembling.

This is how the cycle ends. Not with fireworks. Not with a breakdown. But with quiet recognition. With two people choosing each other—not out of fear, but out of love that finally feels safe.

It’s almost embarrassing how mundane it is.

The morning light spills through the apartment like it’s always belonged there—soft, forgiving. Your cat (the one who still barely tolerates you) is curled on the windowsill, tail flicking rhythmically. Ellie’s in the kitchen, humming under her breath while flipping pancakes she knows you like just a little burnt on the edges.

You’re sitting at the kitchen table, wrapped in one of her old flannels, thumbing through a book she lent you. You’ve underlined every other sentence.

She says nothing about it.

Just brings you a cup of coffee exactly the way you like it now. Two sugars. No cream. You’d stopped adding cream when you realized you used to drown the bitterness out of habit, not taste.

“How’s the book?” she asks.

You look up at her—hair messy, tattoo sleeve half-covered by a hoodie, eyes kind in the way that used to terrify you. You used to run from kindness like it was a threat.

Now you let it hold you.

“It’s good,” you murmur. “I think I’m finally understanding it.”

She leans against the counter and raises a brow. “The themes or the words?”

“Both.”

She grins. “Progress.”

You smile back. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

Ellie walks over, slow and sure. Crouches beside your chair, presses her forehead to your knee like it’s instinct. Her fingers curl around yours. Grounding.

“You gave up on yourself first,” she says quietly. “I was just waiting for you to remember who you are.”

You blink back the sting behind your eyes. Not sadness. Just... release.

“I was so scared,” you whisper.

“I know.”

“I thought loving you meant losing myself.”

She nods, solemn. “And I thought loving you meant saving you.”

You both sit with that. Not in shame—just recognition.

“I’m not a project anymore,” you say.

“No,” she agrees, looking up at you. “You’re my partner.”

You press your lips to her forehead. She closes her eyes. Breakfast burns slightly on the stove, but neither of you move.

Later, you water the plants while Ellie grades papers. Your cat hisses when you try to pet her and Ellie snorts behind her laptop. You walk past her and kiss her temple. She tugs you onto her lap and lets you fall asleep like that—safe, full, warm. When you wake up, the sun is fading, and Ellie’s fingers are tracing the line of your spine through the fabric of her flannel.

“You think we’ll always be this boring?” you tease.

She smiles against your shoulder.

“I hope so.”

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫: 𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

This story is not based off a song! It’s my own little idea :)

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: Jackson!ellie x fem reader

Remember requests are always open! Feel free to leave one!

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: mentions of death, suicide, overall depressing themes

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

Ellie lay on her back with her eyes closed. The sun shining on her pale and freckled skin. She hummed at the feeling of the grass scraping against her arms. The soft sound of water gushing could be heard from below her, as the two of you lay on a hill, she couldn’t be happier. She was away from Jackson. Away from everything and everyone. And the love of her life lay next to her. Ellie smiled softly just thinking of you. This is what she has always wanted. To be with you, in a beautiful place far away from everything. She loved you more than anything. All Ellie wanted to do is keep you safe, and moving as far away from people and most living things was the best option in her eyes. The safest option. If the two of you were this far away from any infected and people you both would be safe.

Ellie’s thoughts of keeping you safe were interrupted by a soft whisper of her name. She turned her head to look at you, and you were already looking at her. Ellie gave you a soft smile, taking in your features. You’ve been together for years but fuck, you were beautiful. She wasn’t lying when she said you were the prettiest girl she had ever seen. Every time she looked at you, was like she’s seeing you for the first time all over again. She always wondered how she got lucky by getting someone like you. You were way out of her league.

You and Ellie lay there just looking at each other for a while, before you spoke up

“You know, you have to let go of me”

“I can’t”

“Ellie” you said, your tone sounding desperate and frustrated. You sat up and Ellie followed you by sitting up as well, you rubbed your hands across your face and you let out a sigh. Ellie gently put her hand on your shoulder.

“Please” you whispered, voice barley above whisper. “I can’t rest in peace” you continued your sentence

“You aren’t dead” Ellie said quickly

“I am”

“No you’re not” Ellie said loudly, tears running down her face as she got up and looked down at you

You looked up at her and gave her an apologetic smile “Ellie wake up”

“Baby please”

“Ellie wake up’

Ellie sat up in her bed covered in cold sweat and tears. It was dream. A fucking dream. Ellie laid back down with a huff, and turned to your side of the bed. She let out loud broken sobs as she reached out to grab your pillow and she held it to her chest sobbing.

3 months ago you and Ellie had got married. It was a beautiful ceremony, and you both were surrounded by your friends and family. It was everything Ellie dreamed of. Your wedding reminded her of all those wedding magazines she always saw when she was out on runs. She never imagined, that she would ever get married. Until she met you. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with you.

3 days after the wedding tragedy struck. Ellie hated it when you went on patrol, but they were short on people due to both Ellie and Jesse being sick. Ellie had a gut feeling that morning when she woke up. Something was wrong. But she pushed the feeling aside, not wanting to upset herself. Later that day Ellie went to the gates of Jackson to wait for you. She got into her best outfit and used some 22-year-old perfume. The high of being married has not run out yet and she planned to take you out that night. She still couldn’t believe it; you’ve been married for 3 whole days.

As Ellie made her way to the gate, paramedics were running to the gate, and her heart dropped at the sight. She saw people running to you. Your lifeless body laid there. Bruised. Bleeding. It was very obvious you were not breathing. And there was blood everywhere.

Tears fell from her eyes as she reached out to grab you, but Tommy held Ellie back as the paramedics were trying to resuscitate you.

Ellie screamed, she fought Tommy. She did everything to make him let go of her but she couldn’t, his grip was too strong.

Ellie watched as they tried. “Please baby” she begged over and over again. Broken sobs and sentences left her lips. Please just get up.  It felt like an eternity, but at some point they stood up. The paramedics gave Ellie an apologetic smile and apologized saying there was nothing they could do to save you. As soon as they said that Ellie’s world came crashing down.

As the months went by, Ellie lost herself. She doesn’t eat she doesn’t sleep. She can’t do anything but cry. She had no purpose. No one to look after. She felt worthless. Lonely. She felt lost without you. She was not going to move on. You were the only one for her. Ellie slowly walked to the bathroom, pained by all the memories this house has of you. Ellie didn’t want to live without you. There was no point.

Ellie spent that day with her family. And she was happy. Content. She made a choice. And she was happy with her decision. As she bid her goodbyes, the Millers watched her walk home.

“Don’t you think she was a little too happy?” Joel asked concerned about Ellie’s behavior.

“No, I don’t think so” Maria commented

 “Just be happy for her she’s healing” she added

Joel just nodded Maria’s words. There was definitely something wrong with Ellie.

Ellie laid on her side of the bed holding your pillow. She smiled at a picture of you, that was on the wall. Ellie’s eyes drifted from the photo, to an empty pill bottle.

“I’ll join you soon baby” she whispered.

“Not even death can separate us”

And those were the last words Ellie Williams ever said.

Her body was found two days later. As sad as it was, Joel knew how much she loved you. He knew she wouldn’t be able to live without you. All Joel hopes, is that if there is a god out there, that he put you two together. That you and Ellie spent eternity together. Because that’s all Ellie wanted. Ellie wanted to be with you forever. No matter who or what it takes, no matter who she had to hurt, she was going to be with you forever.

Authors note: Thank you so much for reading! Remember you are loved and to always spread kindness. If you have any requests or ideas feel free to let me know!

Yours truly,

Zia:)

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: 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.”

When the Quiet Breaks - ellie williams x reader

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

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

HUGE WARNIGS: Graphic emotional distress, PTSD symptoms, hallucinations, disturbing imagery, grief, memory loss/confusion, trauma-related violence.

Summary: 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.

masterlist

This story contains dark and emotionally intense themes—please read with care.

The quiet of the farmhouse wrapped around you and Ellie like a warm blanket. Days passed slowly, wrapped in soft sunlight and the creak of old wooden floors. You’d wake up to the sound of the chickens outside or the wind humming through the trees. JJ’s toys were still in a chest near the fireplace—leftover memories from when the place belonged to someone else—but now, it was just the two of you.

Ellie had changed. The hard, vengeful edge she’d carried back from Seattle was softened—still there in her eyes sometimes, but she laughed more now. She played guitar on the porch. She rested her head on your lap while you read aloud. She touched you like she never thought she’d be allowed to again—tenderly, like you might disappear if she blinked.

“I’m glad I stayed,” she said once, lying next to you in bed. “You’re the only reason I still know how to breathe.”

You smiled and kissed her jaw. “Then breathe with me.” And she did.

But nights were harder.

She would jerk awake, drenched in sweat, whispering things she couldn’t say aloud. You’d hold her. Sometimes she’d cry. Other nights, she wouldn’t sleep at all—just sat at the window, cigarette trembling in her hand, staring at nothing.

You didn’t push. You just loved her harder. Calmer mornings, softer kisses. You’d hum to her while she braided your hair or stood behind her while she strummed, your hand on her back. You reminded her that she was here—that she was safe.

But Ellie was never really safe. Not from what was already inside her.

It started slowly—the confusion.

She’d zone out mid-conversation. You’d find her staring at the barn wall for minutes on end. One night, you came into the living room and found her kneeling in front of the fireplace, mumbling Joel’s name over and over.

You called her name. She didn’t hear you.

“Ellie,” you whispered, kneeling beside her. “Baby, I’m here.”

She flinched. “Don’t touch me.”

You pulled your hand back. “It’s me. It’s okay.”

She blinked. Then recognition bloomed across her face—and shame.

“I thought you were her,” she whispered. “I thought you were Abby.”

You swallowed hard and reached for her again. “You know I’m not. I’m here. I love you.”

“I know,” she rasped. “But she’s always in my head. Every time I close my eyes… Joel’s there. And she’s there. And I can't—I can’t tell what’s real anymore.”

You held her through the night. That was the first time you were scared.

The day it happened, the air was thick and still.

Ellie had barely slept. She’d been pacing the house, eyes sunken and wild. You made her tea, cooked her breakfast, tried to hold her hand. She pulled away. Her eyes kept darting to your face, then away. Like she didn’t trust what she saw.

You were standing in the hallway when it happened.

She stepped toward you, slow, trembling. “Abby…”

Your smile faltered. “Ellie, no—it’s me. Look at me.”

But she didn’t hear you.

Her pupils shrank. Her hand reached for the hunting knife on her belt.

“Ellie, please,” you begged. “It’s me. Baby, it’s me.”

You took a step forward—and she lunged.

You didn’t scream. You didn’t have time.

You tried to grab her wrist, tried to pull her back to you, but she was crying and snarling and whispering Joel’s name in broken pieces.

The pain was sudden. Hot. Blinding.

She drove the knife into your abdomen, then again—once in the side of your chest.

You collapsed, gasping, your fingers trembling against her forearm.

And then… it stopped.

She stood over you, breathing heavy. Her knife clattered to the ground.

You reached for her. She backed away. Your lips moved—one last attempt to say her name. To pull her out. But everything went still.

Ellie walked into the kitchen. Her mouth was dry, her chest heaving. She poured a glass of water and stared out the window. The sun was starting to set. The cows needed feeding. You were always reminding her.

“Babe?” she called, voice hoarse. “Hey… where’d you go?”

She checked the porch. The barn. The bedroom. The bathroom.

“Y/N?” Her voice cracked. “Where are you?”

She went outside, looked toward the trees, called again. Nothing.

Frustration twisted into worry. She began searching harder—every room, under every blanket, behind every door. Her breath quickened.

And then, slowly, she turned the corner of the hallway.

There you were.

The floor was stained. Your body lay still. The blood had stopped pooling. Her knife was inches away, still slick.

“No,” she breathed.

Her knees hit the floor. Her hands shook as she reached out—but stopped inches from your face.

“No. No. No, no—what did I… what did I—”

Her breath came out in gasps. Then sobs. Then wails.

She rocked back on her heels, knuckles pressed into her temples. Her guitar sat quietly in the corner of the living room, untouched. A song she wrote for you once still hung in the air, a ghost without a voice.

Ellie stayed there until nightfall. Curled beside you, whispering apologies that would never reach your ears.

And the house—once filled with light—fell into a silence that would never lift.

The night dragged on in pieces.

At some point, Ellie couldn’t feel her body anymore. Her knees were numb. Her hands were stained. She’d sat there for so long, staring at you, whispering things into the silence that didn’t make sense. Begging. Pleading. Bargaining with no one.

“I didn’t mean to,” she mumbled, over and over. “It wasn’t you… it wasn’t you…”

She crawled across the floor, trembling, curling her fingers into your shirt, trying to pull you close—but your body was already cold. Stiff. Heavy in a way that made her sob until her throat gave out.

“No… no, baby, come back. You’re not gone. You can’t be gone. I’ll fix it—I’ll fix it, I promise, just—please—”

She kissed your forehead like it would wake you up. She wiped at your blood like it could undo the stain. She whispered your name like it was a spell. But nothing happened.

Ellie didn’t sleep. She didn’t move.

When the morning light crept in through the windows, it touched her face—pale, swollen, dried tear tracks on her cheeks. Her lips were cracked. Her eyes were bloodshot. She hadn’t drunk the water she’d poured. The glass was still sitting on the counter, untouched. Forgotten.

She stood eventually. Only because her legs forced her to. The floor swayed under her.

She stumbled toward the mirror in the bathroom.

Her reflection stared back—wild-eyed, sunken, stained with grief. Her shirt was soaked in red. Her hands trembled as she looked at herself like she didn’t recognize the person there.

“Who are you,” she whispered. “What the fuck did you do?”

She punched the mirror. It cracked down the center.

Her knuckles split open. She didn’t flinch.

Later that day, she buried you under the tree behind the barn.

You loved that tree. You used to read beneath it, braid wildflowers into Ellie’s hair, kiss her with the sun pouring through the branches.

Now it was a grave.

She dug the hole with her bare hands, the shovel discarded after the first few strikes. She needed to feel the dirt. Needed the punishment. Her skin tore. Her nails broke. Her arms ached. She didn't stop.

When she placed you in the ground, she wrapped you in the blanket you both used to curl up in together during winter. She kissed your forehead one more time.

And then she screamed.

A sound so broken, so animal, it startled the birds from the trees.

It didn’t bring you back.

Inside the house, everything remained untouched.

Your favorite mug on the table. Your guitar pick beside hers. Your pillow still held the shape of your head.

Ellie crawled into bed that night with the same blood-stained clothes. She curled around your absence like it was still warm. She couldn’t tell where her hallucinations ended and reality began anymore.

Sometimes, she heard your voice. Sometimes, she saw your silhouette in the hallway. Sometimes, she dreamed you were still alive—and that she was dead instead.

But every time she woke up, the farmhouse was silent.

And the silence… was louder than any scream.

write something abt gamer!Abby pls!!

Headcannons: gamer!abby anderson x reader

live footage of Abby, after dying in Valorant:

☆ Gamer Abby who worked two jobs at one point to be able to afford all the new games and set up.

☆ Gamer Abby who spent over 3000 dollars just to upgrade her pc.

☆ Gamer Abby who had everything in room because she wants to feel close to her games.

☆ Gamer Abby who felt embarrassed when you came over for the first time.

☆ Gamer Abby who apologizes for all the posters and stacks of games that littered her room.

“Why are you saying sorry?” you asked her, confused as you sat on her bed.

“This isn’t very sexy” she comments looking down at the floor.

“It is” you shrugged "everything you do is sexy Abs"

☆ Gamer Abby who memorizes all the lore to different games, and she tells you all about it, even though it sounds like gibberish to you.

“Wait what?”

“baby focus” Abby said with an annoyed tone.

“So Ellie is Joel’s daughter?”

“Oh my god don’t you listen?” Abby says dramatically.

“She isn’t his biological daughter babe” “oh.. so who’s Sarah then?”

All Abby could do was sigh.

☆ Gamer Abby who spends hours playing, but pauses her game when you send her a text.

☆ Gamer Abby who face times you while she’s playing, because she just wants to be with you.

☆ Gamer Abby who feels self-conscious when you are in her room when she plays.

☆ Gamer Abby who gets teased by her friends when they are all on a call.

“why are you so quiet Anderson?” she heard Mel ask through the headphones.

“Her girl is there, she doesn’t wanna scare her away” Nora says witch a chuckle.

☆ Gamer Abby who always feels like she talks too much about games, but falls in love with you all over again when you say: “its ok Abby, tell me about it”

☆ Gamer Abby who moves her gaming set up and posters into another room when you move in.

You walked into the room, the room that was once so colorful with games, was now empty. Naked.

“What the fuck Anderson?”

“I moved it all”

“yeah no shit… why would you do that?”

“this is our space now and I thought you know- we could… I don’t know decorate it together?” ☆ Gamer Abby who is wayyyyyy to good with her fingers, and she gets all shy when you mention something about it.

“What are you looking at?” Abby asked without taking her eyes off the screen you hummed before you simply answered “you”

You watched as Abby shook her head with a chuckle.

“I now see why you’re so good with your hands, these games are definitely teaching you something” you said with a wink and Abby almost pissed herself.

☆ Gamer Abby who uses cheesy game related pickup lines

“You must be as good as Yoshi with that tongue of yours” “Did you just cast aeroga on me? Because you swept me off my feet”

“You don't have to turn on a game to play with me”

“Nice pants! Mind if I loot them?” You never got the references but it always made you blush.

☆ Gamer Abby who almost cried when you gave her plushies from the games she was obsessed with at the time.

☆ Gamer Abby who tries teaching you how to play.

“C’mon baby it’s not that hard”

“Abby I keep dying”

“you’re dying because you aren’t focusing”

“Abby I don’t want to play anymore”

“please baby, for me?”

☆ Gamer Abby who almost combusts when you understood one of her references.

“What did you just say?”

“you said just look for the light that’s a the last of us reference, isn’t it?”

“Marry me” ☆ Gamer Abby who finds out you’ve been practicing her favorite games, and you learned the lore to surprise her.

☆ Gamer Abby who wakes you up at 3am because she was yelling at Nora for making her lose.

☆ Gamer Abby who begs you to play with her because she thinks it’s hot.

☆ Gamer Abby who was scared of being herself before she met you.

☆ Gamer Abby who wants to dress up as Mario and princess peach for Halloween.

☆ Gamer Abby who knew that you were the perfect girl when you let her decorate your shared room with a few posters.

☆ Gamer Abby who is really happy, being with you.

☆ Gamer Abby who could see the two of you getting old together. And she hoped when you were 73 one day, that you’d still be playing together