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summary: you find ellie wounded and confused, so you fix her up. she has an interesting way of thanking you.
warnings: as always, this fic is 18+. minors shoo!! slightly graphic descriptions of an injury, fingering (r!receiving), a touch of angst
a/n: i’ve been thinking about santa barbara ellie lately and now it’s your problem. forgive me for how self-indulgent this is, and it’s a teeny bit ooc for ellie. idc idc i need her.
though the day had dawned cold, gray, and misty, the sun had finally broken through the clouds, its warm glow a welcome sensation against your skin. you’re not typically one to stop and smell the roses, but you pause, boots scraping the gravel as you inhale lungfuls of salty seaside air. you have a good feeling about today. if you’re lucky, maybe you’ll get to take out a few rattlers.
you’re well into their territory, so it’s not a completely far-fetched idea. about an hour down the coast is your beachside boat, your home base, but you’d already razed through the local towns for supplies. so here you are - deep in rattler-infested neighborhoods, glancing over your shoulder every few moments to make sure you’re not being followed and watching your footing for well-laid traps.
after ransacking a few long-abandoned homes for supplies, you round a corner to find a pair of dangling bodies strewn from a tree.
your eyes narrow. one is a clicker, you notice, its skin marred with welts and fungi as it hangs limp from a rope. beside the motionless clicker dangles a girl - she’s covered in blood, red from her hip down to her hairline, her eyes closed. from where you stand, you can’t tell if she’s breathing.
idiot, you think. doesn’t she know this area’s littered with rattler traps?
scanning the area for any other signs of life, you cautiously approach the tree from which the girl hangs by her ankle, rope taut.
you’re half-hoping she’s already dead - it’s better than whatever the rattlers would have in store for her. but when you’re close enough to reach out and feel for a pulse, her weak heartbeat thumps against your index and middle finger.
“shit,” you hiss, cursing yourself for wanting to help. whoever this girl is, she’s either not from around here or just plain stupid. and maybe you’re just as stupid for cutting her down.
when her body hits the gravel, the girl gasps awake, groaning in pain as her hands fly to her hip. her fingers emerge red from the blood-soaked cotton of her tank top.
you watch with curiosity, knuckles going pale as you grip your pocket knife tight.
the brunette coughs dryly, her body weak. she pushes herself up onto all fours and finally turns her head to look at you, green eyes wide with confusion and surprise.
“could’ve gotten yourself killed,” you say, just loud enough for her to hear. “or worse. rattlers all over this part of town.”
“rattlers,” the girl croaks, eyes flitting to the knife in your hand. “the fuck’s a rattler?”
you arch a brow. “seriously?”
as the girl stumbles to her feet, she grunts again in pain and presses her palm against her hip. she ignores you, instead scanning the area for something. when she finds it, she limps over to an overgrown patch of grass and pulls a backpack from the ground.
“you’re hurt,” you say as the brunette shrugs on her backpack. her eyes search the gravel for something else - a pocket knife, you notice, the silver glinting in the afternoon light. she picks that up too, doesn’t flip it closed. her green eyes flicker over to you.
“i’m looking for someone,” she tells you, voice gravelly. “abby’s her name.”
“if she’s as careless as you, the rattlers already have her.”
“thought i made it clear i don’t know what the fuck a rattler is.”
you snort. “keep making stupid choices and you’ll find out.”
the girl sets her jaw, expression stone-cold. you glower back at her, too exhausted from the hours of walking you’ve done today to be afraid of her. she’s clearly out of her depth here, anyway.
“slavers,” you say, folding up your knife and stuffing it into your pocket. “they set those traps. they catch you, you’re fucked. so… you’re welcome.”
after a beat, you turn on your heel and start walking away. you’ve found enough supplies to keep you going for a while, and this block’s too hot. you’re ready to call it a day and head home.
when you’re still within earshot of the brunette, you pause, turning your head. “come with me and i’ll patch you up, get you some food, maybe help you find this… abby.”
you shoot a glance at the girl, whose eyebrows are knitted together. the blood on her face has gone dark, drying to a crust on her forehead.
“or stay here. choice is yours.”
when you start walking again, it’s not long before you hear a second set of footsteps approaching behind you. reaching into the side pocket of your backpack, you pull out a metal canister of water and offer it to the girl. she takes it wordlessly, gulping down mouthfuls of water as you trudge through the barren neighborhood.
“god dammit,” ellie cries, knuckles going white as she grips the edge of her seat, alcohol stinging the open wound on her side. you mutter a quiet sorry, wiping smears of blood from her skin until only her wound remains angry and red.
“good news is you don’t need stitches,” you tell her, reaching for your first-aid kit. you wrap her wound with bandages and hand her a clean shirt, her blood-soaked tank discarded on the floor. she pulls on the t-shirt with cautious movements, careful not to disturb her freshly-wrapped wound. you dip your hands into a bucket of water to wash the blood off.
the boat rocks calmly with the rhythm of the waves, the gentle whoosh of the ocean outside a soothing white noise. ellie’s quiet, still catching her breath. you kick off your boots, stretching your legs out. god only knows how many miles you’ve walked today.
“why are you helping me?”
ellie’s question breaks the silence, her voice still hoarse. when you spare a glance her way, you find her already looking at you, eyes narrowed just so.
you shrug. “honestly? i felt sorry for you.”
ellie laughs humorlessly. “great, well… thanks, i guess.”
“you’re really not from around here?”
she shakes her head, eyes downcast. she taps her foot against the rug on the floor.
“i came here to find someone.”
“abby,” you say, nodding. “who’s she?”
a family member? a girlfriend, maybe? you’re not sure, but the still-human part of you hopes it’s not the latter. ellie’s pretty - freckled cheeks and toned arms, careful lines of ink decorating her skin, her hair somehow falling perfectly into her eyes. god, it’s been a while since you’ve looked at someone like this. it almost feels wrong. almost.
“long story.” ellie runs a hand through her hair, glances back over at you. “i have some unfinished business with her.”
not a girlfriend or a family member, you conclude, if the hatred in ellie’s eyes is any indication. you nod, not wanting to pry further.
“i don’t know anyone who goes by abby,” you confess, “but i can help you find her. or at least… i can tell you how to not get caught by the rattlers again.”
“yeah,” ellie says. when she’s quiet for another few moments, you stand up and grab the bucket at your feet, the water within it pink with ellie’s blood. you walk out onto the boat deck and toss the water over the edge, watching it splash into the sea. the weather has turned moody again, gray clouds rolling in with the coastal wind.
you fix a meal of canned baked beans and half-stale crackers, trying not to stare too long as ellie scarfs down the food like she hasn’t eaten in weeks. and, well, maybe she hasn’t. she’s quite thin, you had noticed, despite the lean muscles that define her frame.
the sun has already dipped below the horizon by the time you’re finished with dinner. your bed, at the back of the boat, is already calling your name - your legs are sore and tired from a long day of walking. call it naivety, but you’re not too nervous about sleeping near ellie. despite that threatening gaze when she’d talked about abby, she seems relatively harmless. or maybe you’re just being reckless, wooed by her good looks and mysterious charm. it’s embarrassing how drawn to her you are - so much so that you offer her a spot on your bed for the night.
“i can’t do that,” she responds, one hand rubbing the back of her neck.
“it’s that or risk dying from exposure outside,” you deadpan. she almost smiles, exhaling quickly in something akin to a laugh.
“you pulled my leg.”
so you end up in bed together, stripped down to your underwear in the long-unwashed sheets. you hadn’t asked ellie to undress, but she’d peeled her bloodstained jeans off anyway, settling into the mattress beside you. over the sound of the waves crashing against the shore outside, you hear her breathing quietly. you stare up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep.
“thank you,” ellie says suddenly. you turn to look at her in the dark, her face finally clean of blood and sweat. she doesn’t look at you, eyes trained on the ceiling.
“it’s nothing.” you shrug a shoulder.
except that it’s not nothing - you haven’t had company in months. you’ve been on your own for so long you’d almost forgotten what it’s like to share a space with someone else, to eat together and share a mattress with someone, completely at their mercy should they have bad intentions. it’s a kind of trust you’re not accustomed to doling out to strangers.
but something about doing this for ellie feels right.
or maybe you’re just an idiot. who’s to say?
as the boat cabin darkens with night, you turn over onto your side, facing ellie. she finally shifts her gaze to you, pupils wide in the dark.
“you’re not gonna kill me in my sleep, are you?”
the question seems to take ellie by surprise, because her eyebrows shoot up her forehead.
“after you saved my skin?” she scoffs. “god, no.”
“good,” you murmur, chewing on the inside of your cheek. before you can reconsider, you blurt, “but i guess a pretty girl killing me is a fine way to go.”
ellie’s silent just long enough for you to mentally scold yourself for the tasteless comment. you nearly chew a hole into your cheek until ellie’s voice cuts through the quiet. “you like girls?”
there’s a sudden lump in your throat. you nod, hesitant. “yeah. i do.”
the brunette turns onto her side, wincing just slightly at the pressure the movement places on her wound. you open your mouth to tell her to be careful when she reaches out to cup your cheek, her fingertips rough against your skin.
“this is stupid,” she murmurs, her thumb stroking over your cheekbone. “tell me to stop.”
your heart thumps wildly in your chest, pounding against your ribcage. your skin burns where ellie’s touching you.
“i won’t,” you whisper, and that’s all you can say before she’s kissing you.
it’s been ages since anyone’s touched you, let alone kissed you - that must be why your stomach turns with arousal almost instantly, a fire stoking between your legs. ellie tastes like salt, her tongue prodding against your lips until you open your mouth to allow her in. her hand moves to the back of your neck to hold you in place as she kisses you, lips wet and smooth against yours. you sigh into the kiss, somehow unafraid to melt under her touch.
you’re dizzy with want as ellie trails kisses down your neck, her fingers sliding under the elastic band of your sports bra. when you pull back to remove it, exposing your chest for her to see in the dark, she lets out a heavy sigh before her palms reach out to cup each of your tits and squeeze. the calloused pads of her thumbs brush over your taut nipples and you gasp, tangling a hand in ellie’s hair to steady yourself.
you’re not sure how exactly you end up naked in her lap, her fingers sinking into your soaked cunt as she sucks a bruise into the sensitive skin of your throat. you moan, cunt tensing around her fingers, and ellie pulls back to watch you with half-lidded eyes as her hand works between your legs.
“fuck, that’s so good,” you croon, grinding down against ellie’s hand. she curls her fingers inside you, prodding at your g-spot until you’re whining her name, already feeling your orgasm approaching far too fast.
ellie groans at the wet sounds of her fingers buried in your pussy, your arousal leaking down her hand. every thrust of her fingers produces a lewd squelch, and if you weren’t so fucked out, you might’ve found it in yourself to be embarrassed. instead, you drop your head to ellie’s shoulder and mewl, hips rocking weakly as she finger-fucks you so deep you see stars.
“i’m c-close,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut. ellie wraps her free arm around your waist to hold you steady, fingers never slowing as they plow into you from below.
“i got you,” ellie murmurs in response, her palm pressing against your clit. you let out a wrecked moan and ellie smiles at you in the dark, a slight curve of her lips that makes your stomach flutter.
you come with a gasp, the air stolen from your lungs by the sensation of ellie’s fingers rubbing deliciously against your g-spot, her palm warm and firm against your puffy clit. seeking comfort, you lean your forehead against ellie’s, body shaking with every tremor of pleasure she manages to pull out of you. you’re not sure if it’s just the dark boat cabin or the force of your orgasm that has your vision going black, but when you finally emerge from the thick haze of your orgasm, ellie’s fingers have left your cunt empty, her hand rubbing soothing circles over your lower back.
“good?” she prompts, nose nudging against yours. your heart stutters at the way she asks - like she’s looking for reassurance. you nod.
“really good.”
the two of you tumble around in bed for half the night, careful not to reopen the patched-up wound on ellie’s side. you mouth at her pussy and dip your fingers into the slick heat of her arousal, let her climb on top of you and slot yourselves together so your soaked cunts can find friction against one another. after you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve orgasmed, you fall into a dreamless slumber, curled up against ellie’s side in the tiny cabin bed.
when you wake up to find the bed empty and cold beside you, part of you isn’t surprised. you stretch out on the mattress, flashes of the night before playing out in your mind - the heat of ellie’s breath, the warmth of her touch, the welcome sight of her smile.
a night out, your charmingly awkward girlfriend, and the lingering presence of a stranger.
or
in which everything is not what it seems.
warnings : ellie williams x reader. modern au. established relationship. themes of cheating/infidelity. pet names (babe, baby). brief mention of insomnia, and a brief mention of anxiety attacks. slight insecurities indicated. fluff :P
w.c : 3.8k
Ellie doesn’t particularly love going out, but she always tags along if you want her to.
She doesn’t enjoy how crowded a bar can get—doesn’t like when drunk people act as though they’re putting on a show instead of just existing.
But still, when you want a night out? She’s there.
She’s there to watch with a fond smile as you dance with your friends, and to help you hold the bathroom door shut if the lock is faulty. She’s there to help you rifle through your purse when you’re too drunk to find your chapstick. She prefers not to dance, but if you tug her along, she will. With a faint grin of amusement, and red cheeks… she will.
The thing about it is that you’ve pretty much had Ellie hooked from the moment that the two of you had met. It’s impossible for her not to humor you, honestly.
Still, Ellie would laugh whenever you got sappy, or referred to her as your dream girl. Not to discredit your sentiments, and not to mock them. She just still didn’t know how to react to your earnest adoration sometimes, despite the amount of time with which the two of you had been together.
So, Ellie would release an airy chuckle, duck her head with flushed cheeks, and mutter something smart in return.
She was good at physical affection—good at sinking into the feeling of her lips exploring over your skin, and her hands sliding around your waist. She was good at taking care of you, offering to do whatever chores she knew you would be too tired to complete, even if she was also tired. She was good at making you laugh, no matter how stupid the joke.
But when admissions of love spill relentlessly from your lips, Ellie can’t help but feel like the girl that she was a few years ago–the one that could barely string together an intelligent sentence while in your presence.
Case in point–you wanted to get drunk in a shitty dive bar, or spend the night dancing at a club? Ellie was there.
And Ellie was there, as in currently–as in she had even changed from a hoodie, to a flannel when you had declared that you needed a night away from your laptop and the reminders of the existence of deadlines.
You were missing her at your side though, as you had ventured into the bar bathroom alone–something that was out of the ordinary for you. Normally your girlfriend always went with you–buddy system, safety in numbers and all that–and also so that you could chat away with her when the lines were too long. You weren’t even entirely sure why you had come to the bathroom alone this time… something about the bar being crowded tonight and you didn’t want to risk your spot getting taken, or something. Ellie was holding it down for you.
Still, as you stumbled out of the stall and toward the sinks and mirrors, you felt a sharp pang of longing as your gaze landed on a small group of girls–laughing in an unfiltered manner and taking selfies in the corner. You knew that Ellie was only several feet away, and you would quite literally be seeing her again in a matter of seconds. It’s not like the two of you had to be attached at the hip, but the very fact of the matter was plain and simple–a drunken bathroom trip was no fun without your girlfriend.
As you washed your hands, you met your own gaze in the bathroom mirror. The world around you felt as though it were on a three second delay, and you could hear the music booming from beyond the bathroom.
There was no tiny bar filled with older men and country music tonight–you had gone just a bit out of town to find a place that better suited your age demographic. It was louder, darker, more crowded.
You blinked at your reflection, eyes glassy from the drinks that you had so far consumed throughout the night. Your thoughts shifted to Ellie, and an automatic smile tugged on your lips. You knew that she was sitting alone, waiting for you, so you hastily dried your hands.
Feeling just a bit uncoordinated and weighted, you pushed through the bathroom door with your elbow, and were greeted by the loud atmosphere washing back over you at once. Whatever upbeat song was playing just served as fuzzy background noise as you focused on making your way through the crowd to return to Ellie. You were eager for her–drunk and wanting to tug gently at her freckled cheeks, to watch them tint pink under your touch.
Despite not catching sight of her just yet, your smile remained at the mere thought of her. When your gaze did find her across the bar, your heart thumped with affection.
Ellie was on the other side of the bar and sitting at the small table that the two of you had previously claimed upon arrival–exactly where you had left her. She was sipping a beer, her flannel sleeves rolled up just so, her tattoo on display. She was squinting a little due to the dim lighting, and she was…
Talking to someone?
You paused your steps, craning your neck slightly as a small group of people were standing in the way, nearly blocking your path and your ability to see. The corners of your lips twitched, your brain seemingly unable to decide whether you should smile or frown.
There was a girl lingering near Ellie, leaning casually against the table–your table–as she spoke. You couldn’t hear anything, obviously, due to the loud sounds around you. You could, however, see the way in which the unfamiliar girl cocked her head to the side when she spoke to your girlfriend. You could see her adjusting her top, fluffing her hair, and smiling as Ellie had responded to whatever she had said.
You gave a slight shake of your head, almost feeling tempted to pull out your phone and record the moment to save it as evidence… because Ellie was oblivious. She never seemed to grasp when she was being flirted with–could hardly comprehend it even when it was blatantly spelled out for her. The two of you had danced around each other for so long before finally getting together, due to the fact that you had been too shy to make a move, but Ellie had clearly been determined not to ruin the friendship. You finally had to get the guts to make the move, which had obviously turned out for the best.
Admittedly, you were a little amused watching the scene unfold from where you stood. You felt slightly bad for your girlfriend, knowing that she was probably feeling awkward… but still.
The other girl–the stranger–shifted her standing position so that she could be a bit closer to where Ellie was sitting, giving up good posture in favor of leaning closer toward Ellie.
Amusement still lingering, you expected to see Ellie shift awkwardly in the wooden chair, or to start scanning the bar in an attempt to look for you.
But she didn’t.
A crooked smile appeared on Ellie’s lips. She leaned back comfortably in her chair, knees spreading as she took a slow sip of her beer, her gaze locked with the other girl’s.
Your smile faded. With your stomach suddenly giving a weird lurch, you stood still and analyzed… whatever that was.
It’s just that Ellie looked comfortable, which was out of the ordinary for her in an environment like this. She didn’t really love attention from strangers, but Ellie tilted her head to mirror the other girl, the two of them suddenly laughing.
Right. Okay.
You swallowed hard, unable to determine if you felt a little too drunk now, or too sober. Because the girl only seemed to be standing closer and closer, and Ellie’s knees continued to spread to make more room for the girl. That girl didn’t need that much standing room–not that close to your girlfriend, at least.
The song playing within the bar changed, causing an energy burst throughout a nearby group of girls. One of them accidentally bumped into you and apologized, but you didn’t respond–didn’t even attempt to mutter anything in return, because why was Ellie holding such intense eye contact with that girl, even as she continued to take slow sips of her drink?
You felt uncomfortable watching. Maybe it was just because you had too much to drink. Or maybe it was because you’ve never seen Ellie so at ease while speaking to a stranger before. Maybe it was because the girl invading your girlfriend’s space was pretty–like… belonging in a Miami club instead of a random, shitty Wyoming bar. Her clothes fit like a glove, and her hair wasn’t even frizzy despite the warmth inside of the bar.
You were secure within your relationship. It was solid. But something within you rapidly began to ache as Ellie made no effort to put any distance between herself and the girl, even as she reached out to adjust the collar of Ellie’s flannel.
Ellie could be oblivious about flirting advances, but she wasn’t stupid.
You hesitated, morbidly curious to continue to watch the interaction unfold, despite the fact that your palms were starting to sweat.
The unfamiliar girl reached out an apparently very confident hand, and you stretched your neck just in time to see her trace her fingers along Ellie’s tattooed forearm. Ellie did not lean away from the touch. Instead–crooked smile still in place–she lifted her other arm, casually wrapping it around the girl’s waist and tugging her just the slightest bit closer.
You could’ve been sick on the spot.
You had been gone for maybe five minutes. Had you been forgotten that quickly? Or did Ellie just simply not fucking care?
Head dizzy with alcohol, disgust, and upset… you stared at the sight of the two girls chatting and laughing as if they had even actually known each other–until your eyes started to go blurry. Ellie never even glanced in your direction, didn’t notice that you had returned from the bathroom and were standing just several feet away. If she caught you in her peripheral, she didn’t seem to care. Her green eyes remained locked on the girl standing directly in front of her, while your eyes started to sting.
══════════════
Ellie slept peacefully, without any guilt. Her arm was slung around you, her chest pressed against your back.
You, on the other hand, were having a fitful sleep. Your mind was filled with images of Ellie’s smile–your girlfriend’s smile–directed toward another. You saw flashes of her hands that you absolutely adored–and admittedly worshipped–reaching for some random girl’s waist.
You were barely conscious, but you had a lump in your throat. Too upset to stay asleep, you started to stir.
The first thing that you actually registered was Ellie’s nose against your shoulder, and her arm around you. Just like it had been around that girl. Still in that hazy space of existence between sleep and wakefulness, your elbow and leg both shoved backward.
“The fuck?” Ellie rasped, jolting out of her peaceful slumber due to the sudden jab.
You didn’t acknowledge her, and instead curled into yourself.
“Why the fuck did you– Hey?” Ellie managed, her voice low and slightly hoarse with exhaustion. The bedroom was dark and her eyes weren’t adjusted, but her gaze shifted to your form anyway. Ellie propped herself up on one elbow, squinting to look at your back. “Babe. What the hell?”
You squeezed your eyes shut, unable to rid yourself of the hazy images dancing throughout your mind. Still, you managed one shaky sentence. “I’m pissed at you.”
Ellie blinked, her eyebrows furrowing. “You’re… what?”
“I’m pissed at you,” you repeated, your voice slightly muffled by your pillow.
Immediately, Ellie’s stomach dropped.
She’s heard you call her annoying through your laughter, and she’s heard you jokingly call her rude whenever she deadpans a joke. But this? Just a blatant I’m pissed at you with no hint of lightness in your tone? Ellie hasn’t heard that before. Hasn’t wanted to hear it, and never wanted to hear it again, quite frankly.
Ellie was essentially frozen, staring at your back like it could help her figure out the sudden cause of this. She swallowed, her jaw working as she desperately tried to clamp down on every insecurity and fear of abandonment that suddenly seemed to flare. “Why?” Ellie reached out a hesitant hand, allowing it to hover before she rested it gingerly against your back.
At the question and the gentle touch, you were torn between melting and going rigid. She was so fucking sweet, and so careful when she had to be. And yet, those fucking images–
“Because. You and this girl, like, laughing… and shit. And touching. And you were drinking a beer, and–”
Ellie blinked, forehead creasing as she listened to your tired, upset mumbling. “Dude, what the fuck are you even talking about?”
You huffed, suddenly shifting onto your opposite side so that you could face Ellie. As you did so, Ellie’s hand cautiously left your back. You blinked rapidly, willing your eyes to adjust quickly in the dark.
Ellie was still propped on one elbow, a concerned expression etched across her features. Eyebrows drawn together, her gaze locked on your face as soon as you had turned to look at her. Ellie hadn't taken down her hair before going to bed, her half-bun barely even existing anymore as most of her auburn strands had slipped away from the hair tie. She looked soft, basically, in a way that made you want to wrap your arms around her and stay like that forever.
Instead of meeting her gaze, your eyes drifted downward as if to study the faded band shirt that she was wearing. It was so worn, that tiny holes were starting to form around the neckline.
“You cheated on me,” you finally said, the words nearly getting caught in your throat. Your heart hammered, your body feeling uncomfortably warm with stress and anxiety due to the situation.
An immediate scoff left Ellie’s lips. “No, the fuck I did not? Babe–”
“In my dream,” you clarified pointedly, finally meeting her gaze with your own accusing expression.
Ellie went silent. She blinked once as she stared at you, her lips slightly parted. “Okay?”
“What do you mean, okay? You cheat on me, and then don’t even fucking show any remorse?” you shot back instantly. The soft sheets pooled around your waist as you sat up, internally feeling much too heated to remain snuggled within the covers.
Ellie’s expression twisted, like she didn’t know whether to laugh or be annoyed. “Babe, though, I didn’t cheat.”
You found yourself rolling your eyes before you could even think about holding back the action. “You literally did, though.”
“In your dream.”
“Yes.”
“Okay? So no, I did not.”
You huffed, fingers twitching with the urge to grasp your pillow and smack your girlfriend with it. “What is your literal problem? You can’t even apologize, or be remorseful?”
“What’s your problem?” Ellie retorted, nose wrinkling. “You like, elbowed the fuck outta me.”
Expression faltering, your eyebrows knitted together. “Wait, really?” you questioned, your tone softening. “Did it– Are you–”
Ellie snorted, shifting to lay back down. “Nah. I’m good. Just scared the shit out of me,” she mumbled, getting comfortable once more as her head rested against her pillow.
You watched her with a frown, reaching out to nudge at her shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Sleeping?”
“Um, no? Ellie. We have to talk about this.”
Ellie mumbled something under her breath, her fist raising to scratch at her nose. “Talk about what?”
“The fact that you cheated?” you said like it was obvious, prodding at Ellie’s shoulder through the material of her shirt.
Shaking her head slightly, Ellie closed her eyes. “I love you?” she attempted, already feeling the tempting lure of sleep washing back over her.
With a huff, your hand fell away from her shoulder. “I’m not even joking, El. It was so messed up.”
“Uh huh.”
“We were like, at some bar. And I went to the bathroom, but when I came back, you were talking to some girl. And she was like, leaning really close. And I couldn’t see the front of her, but her boobs probably looked great and she was like, right there, and–”
“Babe–”
“And she was like, touching your tattoo, and you put your fucking arm around her waist? And you looked really hot, like, how you were sitting, but I was literally gonna throw up because you were just letting her in your space like that, and–”
“Jesus– Babe–”
“–lowkey nothing else happened I don’t think, but I honestly feel like you were gonna kiss or something, like, it was like you just forgot about me so fast–”
When your voice broke, Ellie’s head whipped to look at you.
“Shit, dude, you’re actually upset?” she asked, sitting up once more and tentatively reaching for you.
Ellie’s hand landed on your knee–a comforting touch–but you still glared at her. “That’s what I’ve literally been saying,” you said, narrowing your eyes at her.
“Yeah, but I thought… I dunno, thought you were, like… I don’t know.”
You let Ellie’s hand linger on your knee, and you shifted to sit a little closer. “It was a bad dream,” you admitted, reaching your hand to rest against the bare skin of Ellie’s knee, too.
“Stupid fuckin’ dream,” Ellie muttered, studying your expression. She was still torn, slightly thrown off from being woken up so abruptly… and the less than serious nature of it all. Still, how many times had you stayed up with Ellie when insomnia had been–quite honestly–beating her ass? How many times had you talked her down from an anxiety attack? Ellie huffed. “Babe, you know I’d never–”
“I know,” you mumbled softly, your free hand moving to fiddle with some strands of your hair. “I know, I know, I know."
Ellie’s hand moved from your knee to your back, rubbing slow, soothing circles over your shirt. She still felt the urge to comfort–somehow–despite the fact that she had been… a little annoyed that you were annoyed due to a dream, and caught off guard because of your genuine emotions over the whole thing. “Is there… Did I, like, do something? To make you–”
“No,” you interrupted quickly, though your tone remained gentle–quiet between the two of you. “It was a stupid dream.” Your eyes tracked your thumb as you dragged it over Ellie’s knee. “Like when you had that stupid dream about me leaving you for the girl from Alien.”
Ellie had opened her mouth to speak–to provide you with automatic reassurances–but your words made her mouth slam shut. Her brows furrowed, a slight hint of embarrassment pressing at her like a prickle on the back of her neck. “Okay, that’s–”
“Which one was it again?” you continued, shooting Ellie a curious look. She almost wished that you would go back to accusing her of something over a dream rather than revisit this topic. “Ellen Ripley, or Rain Carradine?”
Ellie exhaled, her hand slowing to a stop against your back. “Like… either,” she mumbled, avoiding your gaze. Stupid. Embarrassing. Not that Ellie cared.
Your focus, however, had already been entirely shifted to the topic. “Baby, I’d never,” you murmured, shifting to sit on your knees and reaching for Ellie’s face. Ellie rolled her eyes and tilted her chin away. “No badass Alien character could ever replace you. You’re just as cool. Even cooler.”
“Uh huh,” Ellie remarked dryly, pulling her arms away from you and shifting slightly, just barely escaping your attempts of touch.
Barely deterred, you grabbed Ellie’s hands. “You could totally fight aliens.”
“I’d be the alien killing master. Any sort of monster, or whatever, honestly. I’d be a pro. Like, imagine me killing–”
“Stop. I don’t even want to have to think about you being in some, like… horrible, scary world–”
Ellie pulled her hands away from your grasp, one of her knees digging into the mattress as she shifted to face you. “I thought you were pissed at me, though?” she muttered dryly, cupping the sides of your face.
“Less than pissed, now,” you murmured, your gaze flickering back and forth between Ellie’s eyes.
Ellie’s response to that was a wordless one. She leaned over you, pressing a firm kiss against your lips while simultaneously guiding your form down, your back cushioned by the soft bedding once more. Ellie made herself sturdy, her other leg positioning between your thighs. Not pressing–but there. You melted in delight, fingers moving to gently tangle within her auburn strands. You broke the kiss with a laugh, however, when the hair tie that had been practically holding on for dear life slipped away from Ellie’s hair and into your grasp.
Lips tugging upward at the sound of your amusement, Ellie pressed a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth before pulling away. She flopped onto her back with a tired groan, which earned another laugh from you.
“You sound so ridiculous, you know that?” you jokingly chided, turning your cheek against your pillow to look at her. Your shared bedding was cozy–mismatched patterns of shades of green and florals that just seemed to work. The sheets were now twisted around your legs. “You make fun of Joel whenever he does the whole grunt and groan thing when sitting around, but you kinda do it, too.”
Ellie wrinkled her nose, mirroring your action by turning her head to look at you. “Don’t compare me to Joel,” she grumbled. Despite the quiet complaint, she shifted onto her side–so you did the same.
Practically nose to nose, you studied each other. Your smile lingered, all soft and faint with a tired sort of fondness–nightmare be damned. Ellie’s expression held a trace of concern, though. Her teeth pulled at her bottom lip.
“You’re so fucking pretty, it’s unfair,” you whispered.
Ellie nearly snorted. “Says you.” She almost hesitated, her hand seeking out your skin. She rubbed her palm over the expanse of your arm–from your shoulder down to your wrist, back and forth. “Hey. You know I’d never actually… right? I’d never do something that fucking dumb, like–”
“El, I know,” you replied, lifting your leg slightly to hook it around her. “And Rain Carradine could never be you. The similar hairstyle doesn’t mean anything, truly. I’d choose you any day.”
“Wow. Thanks, babe. You’re so sweet.”
Despite Ellie’s dry tone, you caught the curve of her smile before she ducked her head, her lips lazily getting busy against your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut, a quiet hum escaping you. Gone were the lingering feelings of unease, the impact of your dream. The images grew hazier as they faded, replaced by the very real feeling of Ellie mouthing at your skin.
“And,” Ellie pressed on, speaking between each kiss that she planted against your neck. “I could do the whole Alien thing, or whatever. Yeah? Right?”
You feigned a groan, though the sound came out much too brightly due to your amused, affectionate smile. “Ugh, you’re so annoying–”
notes : shhh go back to sleep... tumblr user elleloquently just posted some bullshit.
sorry to those that thought i was actually going to come through with the angst for once... i'm just not built like that </3
anyway! something short n sweet (and unserious) for the time being while i work on my other stuff :) lots more to come bc i genuinely cannot turn my brain off and i keep thinking of more fic ideas and it's stressing me ouuuutttugghhh
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cw: minors fuck off . begging , blindfold , ties , not too big m sorry , suggestive at best with a lot of teasing , power dynamics reversing , service top! ellie reduced to being a bottom .
There’s something fun about breaking a service top down into nothing but a naked, blindfolded little sex toy sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, hands tied back so she’s helpless.
Her breaths fall heavy, limbs trembling, as if the anticipation itself has her wet— it does. She hates how easily broken down all her dominance is, but she’s definitely not complaining because now that she can’t see you, or what you’re going to do— she has to fully rely on trust.
You walk around her, circling slowly like a predator analysing her prey. “You’re so cute like this, Els.” Ellie feels the nickname giving her the shivers, she can’t wait to be touched. You kneel on one knee and cup her breast.
The second you do so, Ellie shivers and leans closer, seeking the warmth of your hand.
Her body is cold, skin cool to the touch as her nipple perks upon contact like she’s been waiting for this her whole life. You smirk, you’re evil, and the idea of torturing her cute little boobs is too tempting, but you know she’ll like it.
So for now… you stick to teasing her.
Maybe, just maybe if you feel merciful, you’ll let her cum, you’ll let her hump your shoe like the desperate little thing she can be when she’s horny and unrelieved. Ellie’s breath hitches as she focuses on the way your thumb circles her nipple, her body buzzing with energy.
“Aren’t you the cutest, Ellie baby? You’re trembling, oh my gosh.”
Your words made her feel a sense of humiliation she hadn’t felt so far but something about that made her pussy feel more tingly.
“Touch me, please.” She begs, voice cracking, “I need you so bad, I can’t do this, please—” she tries to come closer, still on her knees, “touch me, baby.”
was talking about my thesis with my aunt and i was explaining to her that because i'm doing an mfa in creative writing my thesis is writing a novel and i'm supposed to have a first draft by the end of the summer. and she said "wow! and i mean i'm sure that's fun for you?" and when i said yes it is she said "that's great. because if it were me i'd kill myself." which was a slightly nuts thing to say in a church waiting for my grandmother's funeral to start but i respect her honesty
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abby anderson . 35. strip club owner. businesswoman. gym rat. workaholic. somehow manages to keep the entire club running despite being surrounded by idiots. intimidating. blunt. brutally honest. allergic to nonsense.
gold chains. expensive watches. fitted black shirts. muscle tanks. perfectly styled hair. smells like expensive cologne and money. always has a coffee in one hand and a problem to solve in the other.
first one in. last one out. knows everyone's schedule by heart. knows everyone's secrets too. acts like she doesn't care but secretly keeps an eye on every dancer working under her roof.
the club's unofficial bodyguard. handles creepy customers personally. throws people out without hesitation. doesn't raise her voice often because she never has to.
rich. successful. terrifyingly competent. owns three different businesses and still somehow finds time to hit the gym every day. perfectionist to a fault.
pretends she's above drama. constantly ends up involved in drama. spends most of her day telling ellie not to start fights and most of her night stopping her from actually starting them.
protective. loyal. stubborn. always looks annoyed. usually isn't. has a soft spot for her employees that she would rather die than admit.
everybody at the club respects her. everybody at the club fears her a little too.
the boss. the bank account. the reason everyone's paychecks clear on time.
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just hit a huge follower milestone and i’m honestly gagged that there’s so many of y’all 🥲 so so grateful for each and every one of you and for all the support on my silly horny fics <3 kissing each of u rn
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