Headcannons: Professor!ellie Williams X Reader
oooo how would professor ellie be and helping reader deal with baby brain??
Headcannons: professor!ellie williams x reader
masterlist
professor ellie masterlist
☆ Ellie immediately noticed the baby brain getting worse after Arnold’s birth—when you tried to warm up formula in the freezer.
☆ She didn’t laugh. She just kissed your forehead and said, “Okay, we’re labeling the appliances now.”
☆ She actually made laminated, color-coded labels for everything in the kitchen, even labeling the fridge "cold mama box."
☆ Ellie started carrying around a mini notepad just for you—so whenever you said “remind me to…” she’d jot it down, rip it out, and stick it to the fridge later.
☆ She downloaded four different baby apps on her phone and synced them to yours “just in case you forget the login.”
☆ Ellie started doing all the grocery shopping herself. She says it’s because she “doesn’t trust you not to come home with twelve cucumbers and no wipes.”
☆ She leaves sticky notes in the most random places—on your hairbrush, your favorite mug, your side of the mirror—saying things like:
“Brush hair, drink water, kiss your genius wife.”
☆ If you forget what day it is, she’ll tease you with, “It’s Monday, babe. I teach. You nurse. Aurora bosses everyone around. Classic schedule.”
☆ Ellie took over organizing Aurora’s school things and Arnold’s paediatric appointments without telling you—just quietly made herself the admin on everything.
☆ She keeps emergency snacks in her desk drawer for you. They’re labelled: “Reader’s sanity bites.”
☆ When you forgot your phone at home for the third time in a week, Ellie drove back from campus during her break just to give it to you—with a protein bar and a coffee.
☆ She never scolds or sighs—she just wraps you in her arms and says, “We made a whole human. You’re allowed to forget what the stove is.”
☆ Ellie started handwriting a “day summary” in a little journal next to your bed. Just a few lines like:
“Aurora told her class you invented apples. Arnold tried to poop on me. I love you.”
☆ She began calling reminders out loud like an AI assistant. “Hey babe! You were going to fold the laundry! Or…was that past-you’s mistake?”
☆ Ellie bought you matching necklaces engraved with the kids’ initials—"A & A"—because she knew you’d keep misplacing the baby bag.
☆ When you cried over losing your car keys (which were in your hand), she cradled your face and whispered, “I’d forget my own name if you weren’t around to moan it.”
☆ She started calling baby brain “Mama PhD syndrome”—so it felt less like a flaw and more like some grand cosmic achievement.
☆ Ellie writes little affirmations in your notebooks like:
“You made Aurora. You made Arnold. You are literal magic. I’ll remember everything else for us.”
☆ She never lets you apologize for being forgetful. “You pushed out a kid and made milk. My brain would have exploded.”
☆ Ellie sometimes wears a pin on her cardigan that says: “Ask me about my sleep-deprived wife.”
☆ She draws stick figure comics of your day—like the time you put a diaper on backwards—just to make you laugh.
☆ She once caught you putting a bottle in the dryer and quietly walked over, replaced it with laundry, and kissed your cheek like it was completely normal.
☆ Ellie created a shared “baby survival” spreadsheet. Color-coded. With tabs like “Did I eat today?” and “Arnold’s poop log.”
☆ When you forget to eat, she sits you down on her lap, feeds you bites of toast like she’s the professor of nourishment.
☆ Ellie calls you “mama genius” ironically when you do silly things like put your keys in the fridge—always with a teasing grin and a soft kiss.
☆ She puts tiny hearts next to your to-do list items, especially the ones you keep forgetting. “Drink water, mama. For me.”
☆ Ellie started carrying a spare pacifier in her jacket pocket “just in case you forget his again—no shade.”
☆ She lets Aurora scold you gently. “Mama, you put Daddy’s lunch in the diaper pail again.” Ellie’s behind her, trying not to laugh.
☆ When you space out during a conversation, she touches your wrist gently and says, “Hey, come back to me, space cadet.”
☆ Ellie plays memory games with you—not to fix anything, but just to be close to you. “Okay, five things you touched in the last ten minutes. Go.”
☆ She started organizing your makeup by use frequency and labeled the drawers: “Stuff for when you care,” “Stuff for five-minute glam,” and “You’re hot no matter what.”
☆ Ellie bought you memory supplements and stuck them inside a chocolate bar wrapper so you’d actually take them.
☆ She made a “baby brain emergency” bag with chapstick, mints, cash, wipes, and a picture of the kids. It’s in her office.
☆ When you forgot where you parked, Ellie just quietly activated her phone tracker on your location and found you without judgment.
☆ Ellie installed a key tracker app and pretends it’s because she loses things too. (She doesn’t.)
☆ When you forgot to pack a bottle and panicked, Ellie offered you her office coffee mug. “It’s clean. It’s desperate times.”
☆ She started a bedtime routine where she lists all the things you did remember today. Even if it’s just: “You kissed Arnold. You said ‘I love you.’ You were patient.”
☆ Ellie kisses the inside of your wrist when you say “I’m sorry, I’m just so dumb lately.” She says, “You’re exhausted, not dumb. You’re brilliant. You’re mine.”
☆ She taught Aurora to give you a kiss when you look overwhelmed. “Kiss Mama’s forehead. That’s the reboot button.”
☆ Ellie wrote a journal titled “Things Reader Forgot That Made Me Love Her More.”
☆ When you forgot your coffee on top of the car and drove off, Ellie bought you a spill-proof cup and wrote “Reader’s Lifeline” on it in Sharpie.
☆ She sets gentle alarms on your phone named “You deserve a break” or “Stretch & hydrate, my love.”
☆ Ellie started doing baby signs with Arnold early so he could "help remind Mama" when he's hungry or needs a change.
☆ She learned how to tie your shoes one-handed for when you were holding Arnold and couldn’t bend down.
☆ Ellie whispers soft reminders into your neck when hugging you:
“Keys in your purse. Phone’s on the charger. You’re not alone in this.”
☆ She makes “proud of you” playlists for when you make it through the day without crying or forgetting Aurora’s lunch.
☆ Ellie sets the GPS for you automatically, even if it’s just to the grocery store. “Not because you can’t, but so you don’t have to.”
☆ She bakes your favorite muffins with little paper flags stuck in them that say things like: “Hot mom fuel” or “Memory boost: unlocked.”
☆ When you forgot your name at the pediatrician (true story), Ellie just smirked and said, “This is my wife. She's magic, just momentarily unplugged.”
☆ She always rubs your back in the kitchen when you’re staring at nothing. “Baby brain’s a bitch, huh? Good thing I’m here.”
☆ Ellie added an extra whiteboard in the hallway just for “Mama Notes” where she writes reminders, love notes, and cute drawings.
☆ She refuses to let you feel embarrassed around her. “You can forget everything but I’ll always remember who you are to me.”
☆ Ellie got Aurora to memorize your morning routine so she can bossily direct you through it. “Mama, brush your teeth. No, your toothbrush.”
☆ She bought you a necklace with Arnold’s birthstone and said, “Now you don’t have to remember. It’s always with you.”
☆ When you forgot to change out of your pajama top before going out, she just handed you a hoodie and winked. “Still hot.”
☆ Ellie created a memory jar labeled “Things You Did Right This Week.” She puts in notes when you’re asleep.
☆ She holds your hand tighter when she feels you spiraling. “One thing at a time, babe. Just one.”
☆ Ellie started sending you gentle check-in texts:
“Hey, love. Did you eat? Hydrate? Breathe?”
☆ She gives you small tasks, like folding a single onesie, and celebrates like you just aced an exam. “Ten outta ten, Professor Mama.”
☆ Ellie learned how to braid your hair so she can do it for you when you forget or don’t have the energy.
☆ When you accidentally called Aurora “Ellie,” she just laughed and said, “We’re both obsessed with you, so it tracks.”
☆ She bought you new glasses because she said, “You keep misplacing your brain, let’s at least help your eyes.”
☆ Ellie whispers “I got you” into your temple when you’re lost in a fog, grounding you like it’s instinct.
☆ She bought a wall calendar just to put gold stars on it for every good day you had. Even if it’s just “didn’t cry before 10am.”
☆ Ellie encourages you to nap and will lie beside you, watching over you like you’re the rarest research specimen she’s ever found.
☆ She plays memory-based games with Aurora and invites you to join, saying, “Let’s all forget things together.”
☆ When you forgot your name again, she just kissed your hand and said, “Doesn’t matter. You’re mine.”
☆ Ellie started carrying around a mini photo album of you and the kids and hands it to you when you feel overwhelmed. “Proof you’re doing it. All of it.”
☆ She gives you forehead kisses more often than usual—because she says it helps "charge your RAM."
☆ Most of all, Ellie never makes you feel like your forgetfulness is a burden. She makes it feel like just another part of loving and learning each other—just another thing she remembers how to hold, so you don’t have to.
More Posts from Elliespassagerprincess and Others
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 Williams Masterlist
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about me!
Stories˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆
- drunk running: You and Ellie have always been a storm—chaotic, coiled tightly, unspoken things woven into the silence between glances. One night, everything boils over. Fueled by alcohol, memory, and all the words neither of you ever had the guts to say sober, you're both forced to confront the version of love you’ve built: broken, frantic, desperate.
- look at us now: Caught between a turbulent past with Ellie and a slowly blossoming future with Abby, you're forced to confront everything you thought you knew about love, loyalty, and healing.
- under her desk: You're her secretary—organized, polite, and always on time. She's the boss—cold, brilliant, and merciless. But every glance from Ellie lingers too long. Every touch burns. And every closed-door meeting gets harder to forget.
- to be near you: Ellie was quiet at first, just watching from the background — protective, helpful, always there. But her interest wasn’t harmless. What began as care turned into control, and slowly, you realized she was never going to let you go. Even when you stopped fighting, her obsession only grew stronger.
- the things we do in the dark: A late-night confession turns into something neither of you can take back. In the quiet moments between guilt and longing, you and Ellie finds yourself crossing a line — again and again — in the shadows of a relationship that was never meant to be theirs.
- don't take her from me: Ellie’s always had control—until someone threatens to take the one person she can’t live without
- she: When Ellie starts watching her a little too closely, it’s hard to tell where curiosity ends and obsession begins. What begins as quiet glances and subtle tension quickly turns into something darker—something neither of them fully understands, but both feel deeply.
- when the quiet breaks: Ellie Williams is living a peaceful life on the farmhouse with you—the woman who convinced her not to chase revenge. For a while, things feel almost perfect. But the past never stays buried.
- save your tears: Ellie Williams never wanted commitment. When you first tangled in each other’s sheets, it was her rules: casual, no strings, no complications. You agreed—half-heartedly. But feelings grew in the silence between skin and shadows.
- girlfriend: In a broken world, Ellie Williams becomes the one constant — protective, intense, and impossible to ignore. Their bond is complicated, but it’s all they have.
- drunk texting: After a night of drinking, a risky text is sent to Ellie — one that unravels buried feelings and turns their dynamic upside down.
- high enough: in which you wanted her
- your best friend: in which you wished she wasn't dating your best friend
- knee deep: in which ellie wanted you back
- sports car: in which she took you for a ride
- beneath the mask: in which she saved you
- one step forward, three steps back: In which your relationship always put you 3 steps back
- crimson days: in which she needed comfort
- quiet room: in which you needed comfort
- the cut that always bleeds: in which she left you bleeding
- Split ends: in which you needed help
- drunk words, sober eyes: in which you confessed
- planets: in which you went on a date
- latch: in which you were trapped
- frostbite: in which you shared a special moment with her
- losing sleep: in which you hated her
- dark red: in which she wanted you to herself
- wash day: in which she helps you with your hair
- rose: in which she cant forget you
- comfort: in which she helped you
- bubblegum: in which you fell in love
- I was all over her: in which she wanted to be all over you
- do you still dream of me?: In which you still dream about her
- laundry: In which you didn't fold the laundry
- bad dog: in which you treated her like a bad dog
- pretty girl: in which she showed her girl how pretty she really is
- mary (angst edition): in which you left her to rot
- things to do: In which they got their happily ever after
- satisfied: in which you were the perfect housewife
- in my feelings (angst edition): In which you fell for a loser
- dye it red: In which you dyed your hair red
- ultraviolence: In which she became the person, you've always wanted
- karma: In which you were her downfall
- twilight: In which you couldn't win Ellie's heart
- window: In which Ellie Williams made a big mistake
- in my feelings: In which you showed a loser, a great time
- mary (mental illness edition): In which Ellie wrote you a song.
- brooklyn baby: In which you were dating the world-famous Ellie Williams
- laugh it off: In which Ellie tries to fix your relationship after she was unfaithful
- cool about it: if Ellie couldn't have you, she'd make sure no one else ever will.
- she calls me daddy: You might be engaged but you still always go back to Ellie
- petals on the moon: In which Ellie regrets her decision
- night shift: In which you were the other women
- everybody here wants you: In which you fell in love with someone you couldn't have
- emily i'm sorry: In which Ellie is fucking crazy
- limit to your love: In which you got your heart broken
- I'm not a mountain: In which Ellie makes stupid decisions
- one night only: Ellie wanted needed to see you, but little did she know the one night she wanted to spend with you, would be her final night
- fake it: You and Ellie reminisce on how the two of you got together
- together: Your relationship was toxic, you both knew this... but yet both of you couldn't stay away from each other
- in hell: in which ellie had a taste of what hell felt like
- waste my time: Ellie questions if you really love her or if you were just using her to clean up your mess
- poision: Ellie knows your relationship is toxic, but she can’t help but go back to you.
- nobody; Ellie's biggest fear becomes a reality...
- is there someone else? All Ellie wanted was for you to forgive her
- infatuated: In which Ellie’s “small crush” turned into an obsession
- all the girls you've loved before: Two lost girls, finally found what they've been looking for in each other
- forever: What’s the point of living, if you aren’t by her side?
- moonlight : In which ellie gets high with her lover
series˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆
scream for me: In which not killing the pretty girl was the best mistake she ever made
part 1 part 2 part 3
Therefore, you and me: All you needed was Ellie
part 1 part 2 part 3
Her Sweet girl: in which you had enough
part 1 part 2
Loser Ellie
part 1 part 2
Professor Ellie
professor ellie masterlist
Brothers best friend Ellie
part 1 part 2
Simp Ellie
part 1 part 2
drabbles, hcs and short stories˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆
ellie taking care of sick reader (hcs)
toxic ellie (hcs)
douchebag ellie (hcs)
ellie warming you up (ss)
ellie saying you're a piece of art (ss)
Are you interested im doing something with the song she by tyler the creator ft Frank ocean?
Could be for ellie or abby, but its really giving dark vibes of lesbian yearning 😭
Thank you!
She - ellie williams x reader
hi anon! i am totally interested!! id write whatever you ask:) i went quite dark with this one... lmk if you want one with a happy ending:) i deadass got carried away with writing this lmao
this story is based off the song She by Tyler the Creator. If you can listen to the song as you're reading:)
pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader
requests are open, send me songs or your silly ideas:)
HUGE WARNING: 18+ MDNI: Mentions of explicit sexual content (restraints, biting, choking, rough sex), obsession, psychological manipulation, mental deterioration, dubious/blurred consent in emotional and sexual contexts, Stockholm syndrome, stalking, kidnapping, murder, suicide, obsessive-compulsive tendencies, paranoia, delusions, violence
Summary: When Ellie starts watching her a little too closely, it’s hard to tell where curiosity ends and obsession begins. What begins as quiet glances and subtle tension quickly turns into something darker—something neither of them fully understands, but both feel deeply.
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.
You moved into the safe zone two months ago. Quiet, kind, polite. You kept to yourself, helped at the medical tent, smiled when people passed. Ellie noticed you right away.
Not because you stood out—at least not to most. But Ellie saw the way your hands trembled slightly when you stitched a wound. How your eyes scanned the environment like you were waiting for someone to come back. Or leave.
She liked that.
She liked the way your window lit up at night, a soft amber glow behind sheer curtains. You read. Sometimes you cried. Once, you laughed—just once—and she pressed her forehead against her window across the alley and watched your lips form around a sentence. She imagined you reading to her. Her name in your mouth. Her name in your bed.
She told herself she was just watching. But then it became routine.
She started to learn the rhythm of your days. When you left. What time you came back. What you wore. What you ate. The exact second you turned off your lamp and slid under the covers. She’d stand in the shadows across the street, chewing on the skin of her thumb, eyes locked on that sliver of light between your curtains.
Ellie didn’t smile much anymore. Not unless she thought of you. And even then, it wasn’t a smile. It was something darker—sharper. Something that clenched her stomach like a fist and made her palms itch.
She wasn’t supposed to feel this way. You weren’t hers. But that didn’t stop her.
You first met her when she came in with a deep cut on her forearm. Self-stitched, jagged. Her expression unreadable.
“You should’ve come in earlier,” you told her, gently cleaning the wound. “This could’ve gotten infected.”
She just stared. “Didn’t want to waste your time.”
You paused. “You knew it would be me?”
Her jaw flexed. “Yeah.”
You smiled. Ellie didn’t.
But later that night, she traced the shape of your smile in the fogged glass of her bedroom window. Over and over until her finger bled from the cold.
Ellie started showing up more. Dropping off supplies. Asking if you needed help moving crates. Pretending to look for something just outside your tent.
“I heard you play guitar,” you said once, handing her a bandage kit. “Do you still?”
“Only in my head.”
You wanted to ask what that meant. But her eyes were dark that day. Watching you like she already had the answer.
You didn’t know she was in your hallway the night you cried into your pillow. That she sat just outside your door, back against the wood, fists clenched, listening.
You didn’t know she stole one of your gloves when it dropped outside the infirmary. That she kept it in her jacket pocket. That she touched it every time someone else looked at you too long.
You didn’t know you were the reason someone disappeared.
That guy—tall, arrogant, always flirting—he hadn’t shown up in over a week. No one knew where he went. Ellie did.
She watched him follow you to your door one night. Heard you laugh nervously when he touched your arm. Saw the way you recoiled when he leaned in too close.
Ellie followed him into the woods the next day. Said nothing. Did what she had to.
For you.
One night, you came home late. The infirmary was overwhelmed. Blood on your shirt. You were tired, broken, still so beautiful. Ellie watched you through the crack in your curtain.
She saw you undress.
Saw your bare skin in that soft yellow light. Saw you pause in front of the mirror, fingertips grazing your ribs like you didn’t recognize yourself.
Ellie’s breath hitched. Her hand trembled. She pressed it to the windowpane like she could reach through.
You looked sad. You looked lonely. You looked like you needed someone.
Her.
The first time you saw her watching, it wasn’t on purpose.
You pulled your curtain aside to close the window and there she was—across the alley, standing in the dark. Still. Unmoving. Eyes glowing faintly under the porch light.
You froze. She didn’t.
She just tilted her head. Slowly. Like a predator curious if its prey would run.
You didn’t.
You closed the curtain. Heart pounding. Skin hot. You should’ve been afraid.
But you weren’t.
Ellie showed up the next morning like nothing happened. Gave you a thermos of coffee. Smiled—for the first time. You stared at her fingers as they brushed yours. Cold. Calloused. Familiar. You let her in that day.
She sat in your chair. Looked at your books. Touched the necklace on your shelf like she already knew its weight.
“You’ve been watching me,” you said, not a question.
Ellie blinked. “Yeah.”
You swallowed. “Why?”
She stood up. Walked toward you. Stopped just short of touching.
“Because I love you.”
You should’ve laughed. Should’ve run. Should’ve screamed.
But all you said was: “Since when?”
Ellie’s voice dropped. “Since the first time you turned on that fucking light.”
You kissed her. You didn’t mean to. Or maybe you did. Maybe you were just as broken.
It was desperate. All teeth and breath and guilt. She gripped your waist like she was afraid you’d disappear. You gripped her jaw like you wanted to know her shape from the inside out.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet.
It was dangerous. But it felt like breathing after drowning.
Now she’s in your bed almost every night.
She never stays till morning. Always slips out before the sun rises, back to her shadows, back to her window.nBut her scent lingers on your sheets.
And when you close your eyes, you feel her watching.
And when you open them, she’s there. She always is.
The first time you tried to distance yourself, Ellie didn’t speak.
You had turned to her in bed, barely whispering, “I think I need space.”
Your voice cracked. You hated how small it sounded.
Ellie didn’t flinch. Didn’t argue. Just nodded. Kissed your shoulder and slipped out like always. But that night, your window stayed open.
She didn’t watch you through it. She was already inside.
She started leaving things in your house. Quietly, deliberately. A book you mentioned once—resting on your nightstand. Her hoodie folded on the arm of your couch. A note in your handwriting that you didn’t remember writing.
“You miss me.”
You found it under your pillow.
Your hands trembled as you stared at it. You told yourself you were imagining things. You told yourself it was just coincidence. You told yourself Ellie wouldn't do that.
But deep down, you knew better.
People started asking if you and Ellie were together. You always paused too long before answering. Smiled too tightly. Said, “It’s complicated.”
Ellie never used that word. She said, “She’s mine.”
She wasn’t just watching anymore.
She was following.
You’d leave work and catch a flicker of her hoodie in the crowd. You’d step outside at night and feel her behind you. You’d dream of her fingers wrapped around your wrist, yanking you back into her.
One night, you turned the corner too fast and slammed into her chest. She didn’t apologize.
Her hands gripped your arms.
“I didn’t know you were—” you started.
“Yes, you did,” she said. Her voice was a blade.
You didn’t move. Neither did she.
The tension curled around your throat like smoke. You wanted to run. You wanted to stay. You wanted her to tear you apart.
Inside her mind, it only made sense:
She knew what you liked. What you feared. What you needed.
She could protect you. She could fix the ache inside your chest.
You just had to stop pretending you didn’t feel it too.
You were hers. You just didn’t understand it yet.
Ellie started keeping a journal. It wasn’t full of words. Just drawings.
Of you.
Sleeping. Smiling. Naked. Crying.
Sometimes she’d draw herself with you—your hand in hers, your head on her chest. But always, always, your eyes were closed.
She liked it better that way.
When another woman tried to flirt with you at the market, Ellie was there before you could even react. Just a shadow beside your shoulder.
“She’s not interested,” Ellie said, low and cold.
You touched her wrist. “Ellie, stop—”
The woman blinked at her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
Ellie didn’t respond. Just stared. Long enough to make her leave. Long enough to make her afraid.
Later, Ellie brushed your hair off your cheek and whispered, “You don’t need anyone else.”
You didn’t answer. Because part of you agreed.
You started hearing her voice even when she wasn’t there.
Soft murmurs at the edge of your consciousness. A whisper behind your ear.
“You’re mine.”
You looked over your shoulder constantly. Not because you were scared. But because you hoped it was her.
One night, you confronted her. “Are you watching me when I sleep?”
Ellie didn’t lie.
“Yes.”
Your throat tightened. “Why?”
She stepped forward. Her hands cradled your jaw like you were something fragile—something sacred.
“Because it’s the only time you’re honest.”
You shuddered. “That’s not love.”
Ellie’s eyes flashed. “No. It’s more than that.”
She started sleeping on your floor.
Didn’t ask. Just curled up on the rug like a stray wolf. Eyes closed, but never fully asleep. You stepped over her on the way to the bathroom and felt her fingers brush your ankle.
You didn’t stop her. You didn’t speak.
You just left the door unlocked. Every night.
Eventually, your light never turned off.
You didn’t pull the curtains anymore. You let her see.
Because pretending you weren’t hers felt worse than giving in.
And the worst part? You started watching her too.
You counted her steps. You tracked her breath.
You studied the scars on her knuckles and the cracks in her voice when she said your name.
You wanted her under your skin, even when it hurt. Especially when it hurt.
It wasn’t love. It wasn’t sane. It wasn’t safe.
But it was real.
And in this world, that was all you had.
The cabin was two hours from the nearest town.
You didn’t remember falling asleep in the car. You didn’t remember agreeing to come.
You just remembered Ellie’s voice: “There’s too many people around you. Too many eyes.”
She made it sound like love. And you were so tired of fighting.
You woke up wrapped in thick blankets. The fire crackled low. Rain tapped against the window like a pulse.
And Ellie was already watching.
She sat in the rocking chair, legs spread wide, one hand curled beneath her chin. The other rested on her thigh.
“You’re safe now,” she said.
You sat up slowly, brain hazy. “Where are we?”
“Somewhere they can’t reach you.”
You should have run. Instead, you pulled the blanket tighter. And whispered, “Okay.”
The first few days felt like a dream. A stillness you didn’t realize you craved. Ellie chopped wood outside shirtless, sweat glistening down her spine. She cooked, fed you, fixed the fire. She moved like a soldier, like a lover, like something primal that found peace only when she could watch you.
“Do you hate it here?” she asked one night. You shook your head.
Because here, she didn’t have to hide what she was. And neither did you.
She kissed you after dinner. Hard. Possessive.
You tasted desperation in it—an edge like she was afraid you’d disappear mid-kiss. Her hands slid under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto the counter. The plates clattered. You didn’t care.
“Tell me you’re mine,” she growled against your throat.
You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Your head lolled back as her hand slid up your shirt, gripping your breast with a brutal need.
“Say it.”
“I’m yours,” you gasped. It felt like a vow.
That night, she took you.
Face pressed into the mattress. Hands pinned above your head. Her mouth feverish on your skin, trailing teeth and tongue in frantic worship. Every thrust came with a litany—Mine. Mine. Mine.—punctuated by bruises blooming under her fingertips.
You came with a scream you didn’t recognize. You came again, sobbing her name.
And when it was over, she curled around you like armor.
Whispered, “I won’t let anyone take you from me.”
You didn’t reply. Because you didn’t want to leave.
Days blurred.
Ellie read to you, bathed you, watched you sleep. She didn’t let you touch the keys. Didn’t let you wander past the woods.
“It’s not safe,” she’d repeat. “People lie. I don’t.”
You believed her. Or you needed to believe her.
One night, she tied your wrists with her belt. Not out of cruelty.
But because you asked her to.
Because your mind was starting to slip too—spiraling in on itself like hers.
“I want to feel it,” you whispered. “What it’s like to be… owned.”
Something in Ellie snapped. She fucked you on the floor. Face flushed, voice shaking. She held your chin and made you watch her as you came. Over and over.
“You’re not leaving,” she told you afterward. You smiled, dazed.
“Why would I?”
You found her journal. Pages filled with you—sketches, fantasies, maps of your body. But also lists. Daydreams:
"Her in a collar"
"Me watching her sleep, knife under the pillow"
"Keep her full. Keep her scared. Keep her close"
"Fuck her in front of a mirror until she can’t tell who she is anymore"
You should’ve been afraid. But instead, you wrote your name in the margin next to hers.
By the second week, you stopped asking when you’d go back.
By the third, you stopped wondering who you used to be.
You were hers now. And worse?
She was yours.
Because obsession, when shared, is just another kind of love.
You don’t know how long you’ve been in the cabin.
Days feel like water slipping through your fingers. You forget what month it is. Sometimes Ellie forgets your name. But you always know hers.
She carved it into the headboard, right above where she made you hers. She whispers it into your skin every night like a ritual. She branded it into your bones.
Ellie.
She watches you brush your hair. Stares like she’s never seen a woman before. Like you’re some phantom that might slip through the cracks if she blinks too long.
“I think I’d kill someone for you,” she says one morning.
You don’t flinch. You smile.
“Who?”
She doesn’t answer. But that night, there’s blood under her fingernails.
You break first. It happens slowly—your grip on reality softens like wet paper.
You cry when your reflection doesn’t smile back. You scream at the storm outside like it’s mocking you. You bite down on Ellie’s arm while she’s fucking you because you need to feel something real.
She doesn’t punish you. She moans.
Ellie starts hearing things.
She locks the door even when no one’s around. She kisses you with a hand on your throat now, like she’s making sure you don’t lie. You find notes stuffed in her boots:
“She’s slipping. She’s forgetting me. I’ll make her remember.”
You don’t tell her you read them. Instead, you leave one of your own:
“If I forget you, kill me.”
The next time she fucks you, it’s on the front porch. Naked. In the cold. Rain on your bare chest. She wants the world to see—wants the sky to know you’re hers. You ride her with your hands knotted in her hair, blood dripping from your lip where she bit you. You come like you’re trying to leave your body behind. She drags you back in with her mouth.
You stop caring about survival.
You drink wine for breakfast. You forget how to spell your last name. You tell Ellie she’s inside your lungs and she kisses your ribs like that’ll keep her there.
“I want to die here,” you say one night.
She presses her forehead to yours.
“We already did.”
There’s no mirror in the bedroom anymore.
You smashed it after Ellie asked, “Do you still recognize yourself?”
You didn’t.
You don’t.
And that was the point.
The last time you go outside, it’s because Ellie begs you to. She wants to show you something—this twisted, gorgeous mural she painted in the barn. It's all you.
Your eyes. Your mouth. Your cunt, over and over, blooming like some unholy flower.
“It’s worship,” she says.
You drop to your knees and lick the paint off her fingers.
There’s no turning back.
Not now. Not when the lines between captor and captive, lover and lunatic, have blurred past meaning.
You are two sides of the same sickness now.
Two gods of one deranged altar.
Two corpses in one grave, still moving, still wanting.
You kiss her like drowning. She holds you like possession.
And when the world finally forgets you exist— You are relieved.
The cabin is quiet. Too quiet.
Ellie hasn’t spoken in two days. Not really. She hums to herself, sometimes, drawing you in her sketchbook over and over until the pages wrinkle under the pressure of her pencil.
You ask what she’s thinking.
She just looks up and says, “You’re so quiet when you sleep.”
Like that answers anything. Like that means everything.
That night, she takes you to bed like it’s the last time. She’s soft with you. Gentle, even.
Kisses your eyelids, your palms, your knees. Cradles your hips like she’s trying to memorize their weight. She doesn’t fuck you like she wants to own you—she fucks you like she’s already lost you.
You cry. She doesn’t ask why.
When you wake up, the gun is on the pillow. It’s cleaned.
Oiled. Loaded.
And next to it is her final drawing: the two of you under the covers, a red thread wrapped around your throats, knotted into a bow at the center.
Underneath, she’s written: If we can’t live like this, we don’t live at all.
You find her on the floor, knees tucked under her like a child. She’s holding a second pistol, one she probably stole months ago.
When she looks at you, she doesn’t smile. She just says, “Will you let me do it?”
You nod.
Because that’s love, too. Trusting someone to end you.
She holds you in her lap, like a lullaby. One hand buried in your hair, the other on your pulse. You breathe together.
You’re not afraid. Not anymore.
“I love you,” you whisper.
Ellie kisses your temple.
“I know.”
The first shot rings out, and the birds fly from the trees.
The second shot follows, echoing through the forest like a vow.
And then— Nothing.
When they find the bodies, you're curled together, as if sleeping.
No notes. No names. Just each other.
Forever.
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.
Are you okay?
mentally, I wasn't for a while, and writing dark stuff did affect me in a way I didn't realize. I took a break, I did some soul searching and when u finally decided to come back I lost my password... pain.
hey... *nervous laugh*
I am so so sorry that I disappeared for almost 4 months. I was overwhelmed with life at that time and I deleted the app because I needed a breather.
I'm so thankful for each and everyone of you who messaged and requested even though I was gone.
I'm back, with a clean mind and fresh ideas. Life has been good recently and I feel like I've been a better place to post again...
So in conclusion,
Daddy's home and she's back with her gore:)
Hi to my favorite TLOU writer!!! I am totally in love with Professor Ellie. (Mommy🫣) How do you imagine her after seeing you talking to another professor/student and being a little flirty with them( like for fun yk)? Do whatever you want. Let her be jealous, sad,angry,possessive IDGAF all your work is a fucking masterpiece so do whatever you want girl 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 KISSESSSSSS😻😻😻
Headcannons: professor!ellie williams x reader
i love you sm anon <33
masterlist
professor ellie masterlist
☆ You bring Ellie her favorite iced coffee and a container of cut-up fruit, the kids in tow—Arnold babbling in his pram, and Aurora holding your hand in little Velcro sandals.
☆ Ellie knows you're coming, but she doesn't know you got stopped on the quad near the literature building by one of her students.
☆ You’re wearing bike shorts and a cropped tee, sunglasses in your hair, looking unfairly good for someone juggling two small children.
☆ You’re distracted by Aurora asking about clouds while adjusting Arnold’s sunshade when the student approaches.
☆ The student—some cocky, overconfident sophomore—spots you and comes over with a too-wide smile.
☆ “Hey… uh, you lost? Need help finding someone?” they ask, ignoring the fact you’re very clearly fine.
☆ The student starts asking questions that don’t need answering—who you're here for, if you're new on campus, if you have a partner.
☆ You give polite, short answers, focused on Aurora while trying not to cause a scene.
☆ The student leans casually on the pram, cracking jokes and acting like you’re at a coffee shop, not mid-parenting.
☆ You laugh once—a polite laugh—which ends up being a nuclear detonation in Ellie’s mind.
☆ What the student doesn’t know is that Ellie just stepped outside the building to greet you.
☆ She sees the scene from a few yards away—her student leaning way too close to you, eyes shamelessly scanning you up and down.
☆ You haven’t noticed her yet. But she notices everything.
☆ Jealousy hits her like a truck—instant and sharp.
☆ It coils in her stomach, turning to a possessive rage that sits right behind her ribcage.
☆ Her jaw tightens as her eyes laser in on the student’s body language, analyzing every flirty lean and casual smirk.
☆ She’s not just angry—they’re flirting with you in front of her children.
☆ “Are you insane?” she mutters under her breath, already storming across the quad.
☆ Her heart is pounding—part fury, part fear that you were approached at all.
☆ She's not scared you’ll respond—she knows you love her. But the idea of anyone even trying? That’s war.
☆ “Can I help you?” Ellie says sharply as she inserts herself physically between you and the student.
☆ Her tone is low, dangerous—calm in that pre-explosion way.
☆ The student stutters, caught off-guard, suddenly realizing who she is.
☆ “Professor Williams,” they start, awkwardly laughing, “I didn’t realize—”
☆ “That you were flirting with my wife? While she was watching our children?”
☆ You immediately reach out, brushing your hand against Ellie’s back to ground her.
☆ “It’s fine,” you say softly, but Ellie’s not even close to letting it slide.
☆ “No, it’s not fine,” she growls, turning back to the student. “You’re in my class. You should know who I am. And you should’ve known she was mine the second you saw her.”
☆ The student tries to apologize, but Ellie’s already brushing past them and gripping the pram handle like it personally offended her.
☆ She doesn’t say anything for a moment, just walking fast, one hand protectively behind your back.
☆ When you glance at her, her jaw is clenched, and her eyes are distant and stormy.
☆ “You okay?” you ask softly.
☆ “No,” she snaps. “I hated that. I hated seeing that.”
☆ “I wasn’t flirting back,” you say.
☆ “I know,” she mutters. “But they looked at you like they had a chance. And I wanted to punch them through the pavement.”
☆ She takes you into her office instead of walking you to the car, locking the door behind you.
☆ “You look like a fantasy,” she says, her voice low, bitter. “And I hate that other people get to see it.”
☆ You smirk. “You mean you hate that they’re brave enough to flirt in front of you?”
☆ “Exactly,” she growls. “Because it means they don’t take me seriously enough.”
☆ “Or they’re just idiots,” you offer.
☆ “Maybe. But you’re mine. And I shouldn’t have to remind people of that every time you walk across campus.”
☆ She brings it up again at home—still stewing, still thinking about it.
☆ “You’re too pretty to be out there like that,” she says, half-joking, half-serious.
☆ “So I should wear a mask?” you tease.
☆ “Honestly? I’d feel better,” she mumbles, snuggling closer to Arnold on your chest.
☆ Aurora hears the story and yells, “Mommy’s scary!” and Ellie corrects her: “Protective.”
☆ She kisses your hand more that night—rubbing her thumb over your ring like a silent message.
☆ She considers printing a family photo and putting it on the front of her lecture slides.
☆ She’s uncharacteristically clingy for days—grabbing your waist while you cook, following you to the door when you go outside, randomly texting “mine.”
☆ She even updates her email signature to include “Partner to the hot woman with two kids. Yes, that one.”
☆ She mentally blacklists that student—no participation marks ever again.
☆ She references the incident in her next ethics lecture: “Know your boundaries, especially when they involve your professor’s spouse.”
☆ Starts inviting you to campus more often—not to keep you away from others, but to show you off while keeping you close.
☆ Insists you wear her oversized university hoodie on future visits.
☆ You catch her watching you from her classroom window once as you push the pram down the path. She waves. You blow a kiss. She turns pink.
☆ She buys you sunglasses she loves—wants you to wear them when you’re out because “you look hot, but you look taken.”
☆ Occasionally still brings it up just to hear you reassure her you belong to her and no one else.
☆ Starts ending lectures early on days she knows you’ll be around—wants more time just to see you on campus.
☆ Jokes about getting a shirt for you that says MILF—but taken by your professor.
☆ And every time you walk into her office now? She kisses you like a declaration. Like a warning. Like a promise: mine. always mine.
I hardly seen any love for Dina can you maybe do one her shy x popular trope
One chance - (popular!dina x shy!reader)
hi anon, firstly real! we need more Dina fics! I'm sorry if this sucks I struggle with writing fluff lmao, but i hope you enjoy :)
Pairing: dina x fem!reader
requests are open! send me your silly thoughts:)
warnings: none
Summary: In which the popular girl asked you out
authors note: on a serious note we need more dina fics, she's sooooo fine but so underrated and it's so sad
masterlist
"Earth to Dina"
"huh?"
"Dina are you ok?" Ellie asked concerned at her friends spaced out expression.
"I'm fine"
no she wasn't.
Dina was not fine.
She was fucking fuming. Why? Because you were giving someone else attention.
Dina had always wanted to be a cheerleader. Ever since she was a little girl, she watched countless videos on YouTube for cheer routines, and she memorized them all.
As soon as she became a freshman in high-school she immediately auditioned, and as if god was on her side she became the caption and she stayed the caption up until her senior year.
She fucking loved to cheer.
The makeup, the routines, the crowd screaming for them.
For her.
God she loved it all the attention. She loved all the people around her, people praising her, and telling her that she did a good job.
Dina was the classic popular girl and as cliché as it was, this was who she was and she loved every fucking second of it.
It was like no other day.
She stood at the entrance of the field, watching the football teams run out.
She observed the other cheer teams standing next to hers, they were pretty, but surely they weren't as talented.
The whistle blew and a grin spread on to Dina's face, as she jogged out the massive doors, her squad running behind her.
The crowd cheered as the girls came out, and Dina proudly raised her pompoms, shaking them slightly.
Her gaze fell onto the crowd, as she tried spotting people wearing the schools colors but her eyes fell on you.
woah.
She's never seen you before.
Holy fucking shit.
For the rest of the night, Dina's eyes lingered on you.
Every time they had to perform, she always kept and eye on you, hoping you'd make eye contact.
You never looked her way.
You wanted to but you were scared.
You'd only join the school a month ago and you remembered on your first day of school, you saw her.
The pretty girl with the dark hair.
That's what you called her until you were told her name was Dina.
Dina. Dina. Dina. Dina Dina.
She was all you could think about.
Everywhere you went there was a reminder of Dina.
You saw a bow? Dina wears bows.
You saw someone wearing blue? Dina always wears blue converse.
You wanted to talk to her so fucking bad, but you couldn't. Every time you got close to her it felt like you were going to piss yourself.
You made her a paper flower one day, hoping you'd be able to give it to her. You'd hype up yourself in the mirror but as soon as you saw her, the confidence you once felt fell away.
"C'mon lets go" your friend Abby begged. She'd been asking you to the football game all week but you weren't in the mood for the loud crowds and all the screaming.
"let me stay home dude" you replied
"Dina will be there"
That's all you needed to hear. You raced to get ready, and you put on a orange jumper hoping the bright color might catch Dina's attention.
You sat on the field with hundreds of other people, you anxiously waited for her, you realized that her seeing you would be unlikely due to the amount of people that filled the seats.
All you remember was the crowd cheering and Dina jogging out, wearing her blue converse. There was a grin on her face as her team followed her and she looked fucking perfect.
As hard as you tried not to look at her you couldn't help it.
She stood in front so obviously you were gonna look at her.
She performed with so much confidence, with so much grace. You could truly look at her forever.
When the game came to an end her squad asked if she wanted to go out with them, but Dina kindly declined because she had other plans.
She had to talk to this pretty girl that distracted her throughout the whole game.
Dina walked through the crowd, trying to avoid all the people who were trying to talk to her.
She was growing frustrated. Where the fuck were you?
Just as she was about to lose hope, she spotted your orange jumper. You stood on the side of the road talking on your phone. Dina slowly walked towards you and she didn't mean to listen to your conversation but she did.
"Abby i swear to god if you don't come pick me up in 5 minutes I'm going to kill you"
Dina softly giggled at how overdramatic you were. You put your phone into your pocket on you sighed.
Dina could walk away right now, she could turn away and you would never have to know about this.
Fuck it. Dina wasn't a pussy.
She tapped you on shoulder, and you turned around. Your eyes met with the girl you've been silently in love with for the last month.
Fuck.
"Hi" Dina started, giving you her charming smile.
Your mouth went dry and you felt so fucking nervous. She could probably see how you were shaking.
"Hi" you replied meeting her gaze shyly.
"Well I'm Dina and i just wanted to say you're really pretty and i was wondering if i could have your number?"
You wanted to pinch yourself. Is this even real? Was this a prank?
"yeah" was all you said without looking at her. You watched Dina reach into her bag to pull out her phone, and she silently watched as you put in your number.
"You don't talk much do you?" She laughed awkwardly as she took her phone from your hand.
"Yeah" was all you said.
Dina didn't text you. Its been 2 weeks.
Its not that she didn't want to, but she was terrified.
You barely spoke to her that night, who says you'll even text her back?
You on the other hand saw the situation differently. You thought she was taking you for a fool. Someone like Dina would never just ask for your number.
As the weeks went by you and Dina make eye contact, she would give you a small smile and you would just walk away with a nod. You'd make no effort to talk to her because she made you so fucking nervous.
Dina hated this. She hated that she wanted someone that can barley look at her. But here she was getting mad at you for talking to someone else.
Some blonde bitch sat with you and you acted so differently. You laughed, you fucking smiled and showed emotion, but when Dina was around you barely uttered a word to her.
You drove her insane.
"Dude why are you fucking lying?"
"what?" Dina asked.
She actually forgot Ellie was sitting here.
"You keep looking at her and Abby"
so that's what her name was.
"What's your deal with them?" Ellie persisted.
She might as well admit it.
"She isn't the problem, Abby is"
Ellies gaze fell to you and Abby for a while before it all clicked.
"Dude are you jealous? do you have a fucking crush on her or something?"
"Yeah" Dina admitted "but I don't know anything about her, i tried talking to her, but she doesn't say much"
Dina quickly glazed to you before she groaned in frustration
"she doesn't" Ellie confirmed.
"She only talks to Abby, she's quite shy in my opinion"
shy is an understatement.
Dina was losing her mind. Every time she sees you and Abby together she feels sick. But at the same time she's too pussy to talk to you or to even text you.
Dina could perform in front of thousands of people without batting an eye but she could barley say hi to you.
You were fucking breaking her.
Dina went to an empty classroom to let off some steam and to her surprise you sat there.
"Hi" Dina said in amazement.
"Hi" you responded looking everywhere in the room but her.
'just fucking look at me' Dina thought to herself.
"What are you doing here?" She asked you.
"Abby isn't here today, i didn't feel like sitting alone"
Dina's fist clenched tightly at the mention of Abby.
"Can i ask you something?" Dina randomly asked, after staring at you for a while.
"yeah"
"why don't you want me?"
"What?"
Dina dropped her backpack and she made her way towards you: "like you- fuck- why don't you look at me? I always look at you"
You wanted to run out the room, this was all happening too fast. "Dina-"
"no listen, i know nothing about you but you seem like a really sweet girl, please just one chance" she begged.
You would give her a million chances.
"Yeah..." you started, you looked around the room one last time before you finally made eye contact with Dina.
"so are you gonna take me on a date?" You smiled at her shyly.
Dina chucked and she responded with one word: "yeah"
Idk if ur taking requests anymore, but I rly love ur stories! Could you do an Ellie x reader story based on the song together by beabadoobee? THANK UUU!!
Together (ellie williams x reader)
hi anon! thank you sm for the request, and for the compliment, i started giggling... i hope you enjoy this pookie <3
This story is based off the song Together by Beabadoobee, if you can please listen to the song as you're reading:)
Pairing: ellie x fem!reader
Requests are always open feel free to leave one! You can send me a song and I'll take it from there!
Warnings: toxic relationships, death, suicide and self harm and a little blasphemy
Summary: Your relationship was toxic, you both knew this... but yet both of you couldn't stay away from each other
wc: 1.7k
(If you want to be added to my tag list, just leave a comment so i can tag you in future work!)
Crash the car again
The same mistakes again
Don't wanna hurt you like I did
Screaming, crying, dishonesty. These were some of the words you used to describe you and Ellie’s relationship. It was unhealthy. It was toxic. Religious people would always quote that one bible verse where it says a dog would vomit and then it would go back to eat its vomit. The same way sinners would go back to sin. The same way you would go back to Ellie.
You and Ellie’s relationship hadn’t always been toxic, there were happy times too. The times she would come over and the two of you would watch a movie together, that one time Ellie snuck you out of Jackson to show you a dinosaur museum. You were happy. Very happy.
Until Joel died.
When Joel died Ellie changed. She became cold, distant.
But you understood why. She was grieving.
And you truly did assume that eventually she’ll go back to normal. But then her obsession with finding Abby started. She left Jackson. You were broken.
Life without Ellie felt like a life without sunlight. There was no light. No joy. It was cold. You remembered the countless nights of you crying yourself to sleep. The nights you would reach over and touch the side of the bed Ellie lay on. It was always cold. The cold side of the bed was a painful reminder that she chose revenge over you.
But Ellie came back to Jackson.
You were happier than ever. Because you waited for Ellie. You put your life on hold for her, because you couldn’t imagine a life without her.
Ellie changed. She became more aggressive. One second she would be ok the next moment she’d explode with anger. Hurtful words leaving her mouth. And that was when you decided to breakup with her, for the first time.
The breakup lasted 2 weeks. And you went back to her again. The arguments and lies got worse, and you left. For a second time. But not long after you came back. You would always come back.
That’s probably why you were standing outside Ellie’s house. The two of you had an argument 3 weeks ago. Ellie had lied to you about where she slept the previous night saying “don’t worry baby I’m going to Maria and Tommy” but you soon found out she went to her ex-girlfriend’s house.
She lied. You were hurt. You felt Betrayed. And you broke up with her again.
But you came back. You had to talk to Ellie.
But for the first time ever, you weren’t here to take Ellie back, you weren’t here to listen to her bullshit promises, you were here to say goodbye. You were her to end it all, so that you could be free from Ellie’s harsh words. You were doing this for yourself. And for the sake of your mental health.
You shakily reached for the door, your left had curling into a fist, you felt the wood on your knuckles as you lightly knocked.
The door flew open, revealing Ellie in all her glory. Her autumn brown hair is longer, reaching past her shoulders, dark circles covered the bottom of her beautiful eyes.
“Baby?” she asked softly eyes wide.
'Cause I'm not waiting for you
But I don't want to hurt you
Ellie knew Joel’s death affected her in more ways than one. She knew her mental health suffered because of his death. Out of everyone she hurt and killed the last person she wanted to cause any harm to was you. But it was as if she couldn’t stop herself from hurting you.
She couldn’t kill Abby because she knew it wouldn’t bring Joel back. She was filled with anger. Pain. Hatred and she didn’t know how to get it out. And there you were. Her soft and sweet girl, that waited for her.
In a way Ellie was jealous of you. How innocent you were. All the people she killed, everything she did to try and get Joel some justice, just made her dirty. And there you were. Ellie sometimes wondered why you wouldn’t just leave her. All she did was hurt you.
She wanted to make you feel what she felt all these months as she went after Abby. But yet you stayed. And that’s why she was so surprised to see you standing in front of her house with a small smile on your face.
“Hi els” you spoke softly; your eyes briefly fell to the floor as if you were preparing to tell her something. Something big. Something Important.
After a few seconds your eyes met again, and you spoke once more; “we need to talk”
All alone again
It hurts my heart again
I think my blood is running thin
I'm away again
It hurts my head again
Don't wanna be away from your skin
As toxic as your relationship was, you both couldn’t stay away from each other. The countless times you and Ellie broke up, the two of you would sneak out to meet each other. Just to be in each other’s presence.
Neither you or Ellie would never admit it: but you can’t live without each other. The two of you had built such a bond that you were both so incredibly dependent on the other for comfort. All the nights Ellie cried when you left her, all the days Ellie would plead and beg you to come back because she would change and she would be a better person. She really tried. But she couldn’t. Her past was haunting her. It traumatized her. Broke her beyond repair. When she looks at you the only thing she could imagine was all the people she had to kill. But at the same time she felt comforted by your smile.
Ellie was planning on changing but she doesn’t know how.
How does one go back to the way they were before they watched their father figure get brutally murdered?
But you had other plans. There isn’t going to be a next time. You weren’t going to let Ellie say another word that will put you into another depressive episode. You had to end it all.
You sat across her, and Ellie felt like her heart was being ripped into a million pieces. It felt like her heart was shattered, and you were watching her bleed pout.
She had been shot, stabbed, but the pain of the words you muttered, hurts even more.
“Earth to Ellie” you said because she went silent. She zoned out thinking of all the ways she could try to get back together with you.
“No” Ellie spoke “you can’t do this”
“I can” you said softly the room fell silent, the tension rising.
“Ellie” you spoke again “we can never be together again” you started “you hurt me too much” and Ellie felt shame wash over her.
“I’m sorry” she said with a pleading look in her eyes “I’ll change” and Ellie watched you shake your head.
“You never fucking changed, what makes me think you’ll do it now?” you spoke harshly.
You got up and started walking towards the door. Ellie felt the tears running down her cheeks. She watched your figure walk towards the door. You didn’t even look back at her.
“Goodbye Ellie”
Hurt myself again
I thought you'd notice it
Don't wanna fix it like you did
Your body was found on a Saturday morning. You were hanging from the roof. You had hung yourself. You didn’t leave a note. No one knows why you killed yourself. Your secrets died with you, the reason and the problems you faced, went to the grave with you. And this puzzled Ellie.
Why didn’t you tell her?
Yes, your relationship was bad, but you could’ve told her. She would’ve helped you. She would’ve hurt those who harmed you.
Two days after your body was found your words ran in Ellie’s mind.
You keep hurting me….
It was her. Ellie was the problem. Ellie was the reason you felt so depressed that you ended your life.
It was all her fault
She felt bad, guilty. She murdered you. She had your blood on her hands. Ellie didn’t deserve to be alive. The day of your funeral she watched as your body was lowered into the ground, Ellie’s loud sobs echoing across all of Jackson. Ellie wished that was her. She wished she was the one being buried because you didn’t deserve that. Ellie start hurting herself. She’d watch her blood drip onto her bed as she cut herself. She wishes she could give some of her blood to you. She wishes she could give life back to you. Her blood in exchange for your life. The way Jesus died on the cross to give us eternal life the same way she wanted to die. For you. To give you the life you deserved.
I think I'm okay by myself, I'm doing great
But we'd be better together, better together
Together though, together though, together again
Ellie thought your death would be good for her. Maybe if you weren’t there she’d be ok. But your death made everything worse for Ellie. She thought she could live in a world without you. She realized she couldn’t and as Ellie took her final breath as she lay on her bed bleeding out, she hoped that she would be reunited with you in the afterlife, that the two of you would finally be together.
They say death separates people. Death rips families and relationships apart. And that’s what Joel’s death did to you and Ellie’s relationship. His death ruined the only good thing both of you had left. But now that both you and Ellie have passed away, she hoped that her death might bring you back together. For your souls to be intertwined.
Ellie hoped that if God was real that he would take pity on her and forgive her sins. That He let the two of you be together in the afterlife. That death would bring you closer. And that you’d be together forever.
Authors note: Sorry for going MIA again, life has been kinda messy rn, but I promise I’ll try and get more stories out soon, to all the requests in my inbox, I swear I’ll write your stories soon. Remember you are loved and my requests are always open!!
Yours truly
Zia <3
hii, i love your work!! could you write an ellie fanfic for periods mby? it could be user or her. tysmmm!!! <3
Crimson days - ellie willams x reader
hi queen!! I wrote this while on my period. I think we all need to be treated like this tbh.... I hope you enjoy:)
Pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader
requests are open, send me your thoughts:)
Warnings: Period cramps, implied period symptoms (bloating, mood swings), fluff overload, light cursing, domestic vibes
Summary: In which she needed comfort
Masterlist
“I’m not dying, I just feel like I am.”
Ellie’s curled on the couch like a defeated cat, hoodie pulled over her head, arms hugging a pillow to her stomach.
You hear her groan as you walk in, the kind of pained noise that makes you drop the supplies and immediately kneel beside her.
"Hey. That bad?"
She doesn’t answer—just gives a small, pathetic nod under the hoodie.
You brush some stray hair from her face and kiss her forehead. It’s hot—she always runs warm when she’s cramping. Her nose is pink. Her eyes watery.
“I brought chocolate,” you say softly. “And a hot water bottle. And those trashy action movies you like.”
She peeks at you with one eye. “The one where the guy jumps off the building with the motorcycle?”
You grin. “Director’s cut.”
She manages a half-smile, but it quickly fades when another cramp hits. She curls tighter, biting her lip.
“Okay,” you say gently. “Pants off.”
“What?”
“I’m putting the hot water bottle right where it hurts. Don’t argue.”
She blushes—Ellie, blushing—but obeys. You slide the warm bottle under the hoodie, pressing it gently to her lower stomach.
A breathy “fuck yes” escapes her mouth, and you chuckle.
Then, you lift her legs over your lap and start rubbing slow circles into her calves. She melts like butter—eyes fluttering shut, face relaxing.
“You’re too good to me.”
“You say that every month,” you murmur.
“Because it’s true every month.”
She opens her eyes again, softer this time. Vulnerable.
“I hate feeling like this,” she admits. “Like my body’s turning against me.”
You press your lips to her temple. “Your body’s just a little pissed off. It needs chocolate, heat, and a lot of love.”
She hums. “Got all three, huh?”
“All day, every day.”
You feed her tiny bites of chocolate while the movie plays, wiping a bit of it off her cheek with your thumb. She’s quiet now, calmer, one hand tracing lazy shapes on your thigh.
And when she finally drifts off—wrapped in warmth, comfort, and your arms—you don’t move.
Not even when your leg goes numb.
Because this is what love looks like:
Hot water bottles, stolen hoodies, and a girl tough enough to kill monsters but soft enough to need you.
-
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