♡ welcome ♡ requests are open ♡ wlw and female!reader only ♡
MASTERLIST
ELLIE WILLIAMS
hcs : artist!ellie
series :
DRIFT [complete] ✩ chapter I . chapter II . chapter III. chapter IV
ABBY ANDERSON
series :
SALT THE EARTH BEHIND YOU [ongoing] 𓈒࿐ chapter I . chapter II
OTHER
Ellie coded texts : part 1, part 2
TLOU as textposts/satire headlines
Arcane as textposts/satire headlines : part I, part II, part III, part IV, part v, part VI, part VII
Arcane analysis : silco + politics, caitlyn, zaun/pilotver in season2
⋆⋅ band au ⋆⋅ rockstar!guitarist!ellie x rockstar!vocalist!reader ⋆⋅ exes to lovers ⋆⋅
synopsis ✩࿐࿔ another sun-drenched summer in California. an impulsive decision. and before you know it, the past and present collide.
♪ at its height, East of Eden was the pulsing lifeblood of rock and roll. the rhythm born in a battered college dorm garage crescendoed into sold out stadiums, the record deal of a lifetime and platinum albums.
then came the scandals. the media frenzy. the breakup.
a year of silence. no contact. not even a follow. but it has never been that simple with you two, has it?
this summer, you are back in santa barbara. and ellie?
ellie is back in her feelings.
[ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ&ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ] fem!reader, as always. angst (with fluff), descriptions of alcohol and substance use, addiction, mobbing and invasions of privacy (by fans, media)
author's note ✩࿐࿔ summer is back and so am I <3 im so excited to share this with you. the general vibes of this fic are very loosely inspired by fleetwood mac drama. most of it will be written, but smau-esque elements will be used for lore and drama reasons. [ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ɪꜱ ᴏᴘᴇɴ]
#chap summary. as violet contemplates the future, her mind is warped with all the possibilities with you being one of them. even as she consciously pushes you away, terrified by the aspect, a certain blue-haired sister has other plans in store.
content warnings. wc 4k: annoying little sisters, powder being powder, violet’s insecurities seeping in, fuckgirl!vi if you squint.
#dykenote ◟ ྀི okay i promise they will have more interaction next chapter #things will happen but also this is a slow burn yk the vibe. but here’s the official first installment. we’re on violet’s brain on this introduction. i’m trying this think where each chapter, the perspective will be flipped. but lmk what you think! m’so curious on what y’all think of it.
Piltover University. Spring Semester. Year three.
Vi has caged herself, similar to a wild animal, waiting for scraps to be given. In this intense, there isn’t anyone left to take the rap for her. She wants to blame Ryder. She’s always been forgetful, a bit of a mess honestly.
From losing her car keys in between the cushions on the couches, unable to find her chromebook before class, and last Wednesday Ryder forgot a date the two of you had. Placing you on the last notch of her belt, deeming you to be sufficiently insignificant. Vi wasn’t sure what to make of it.
When Vi went to bed that night, she thought of you. The disappointment in your eyes when you threw away wasted food from the back terrace. Three hours you waited. Three. Part of her wanted to join you so it wasn’t a total waste. She hates seeing you with sorrow buried beneath the light in your eyes.
You deserve more than a girlfriend who can’t even be bothered to remember a date. Vi didn’t say anything. Being closer to Ryder makes things more complicated than she intends it to be. By now Vi knows better, getting involved with hearts involved, but her consciousness doesn’t recognize reason. For the first time in her life, she recognizes it never has.
She should have let the phone ring. The blue-incased iphone didn’t even belong to her. Let you leave a voicemail to your apparently sort of ex-girlfriend. With your name sprouting across the bright screen, she couldn’t help herself.
How could she have known? She even smiled when you began yelling. So much passion bottled up inside you. A lot of hatred laced on your tongue. It only intrigues Vi even more.
You’ve been a little bit crazy, a fire waiting to be tamed but she would rather get burned then to snuff you out. Time and time again, the scripture of her heart rings like new found love, the single ounce of cadence worth relying on — how much she loves and how much it hurts.
Love and reason, the trials and tribulations that follow haunting her even now. When she is believed to be so far removed, the past is still the present and she’s troubled with a satiated tongue begging to taste the future. Even now, two days later, she’s smirking at the fact you became so flustered you hung up. God, did it feel good. It was fucked. And so is she.
The entire week has been a blur if she’s honest. Between classes, football practice, her studies she feels drowned in — Vi is either coddled up in her room or studying at the library. There’s solace in keeping herself so busy she hardly has time to think.
Needing a new change in scenery, she decides to study at the park, right across the street from her favorite cafe. Spring settles in her chest, daisies pushing from the soil and a new bed of flowers begin to blossom.
It’s her favorite time of year. Not to mention every Saturday when she’s on the field, cleats digging into the dirt, some jerseys spread amongst the crowd, and when Vi sees her number she can’t help but grin. Or the sunflower seeds in the stands, Ryder at the goal line, her coach yelling at them to kick it in gear. Sex couldn’t compare to this. Well, maybe. Not the sex she’s been having lately.
Adrenaline heavily pumping in her veins coaxing her into a high she constantly chases. When the bell is being kicked with her feet, quick-fading an opponent before passing it to Sev and watching her score it through the net, she’s never felt herself filled with such purpose. The roars of the smaller stadium is enough to make her smile from ear to ear.
Her family was in the crowd. Vander, Powder, Mylo, and Claggor. Even though he’s never been a fan of any kind of sport, Silco shows his support.
The reason she was pushed enough in high school to qualify for a scholarship — her family. Made up of half-bloods and hardship, each of them whole-heartedly belonged to each other. A love that’s fierce and gentle. At one point, she never thought she would get to have it again. Leave it to her family to prove her wrong.
It’s why Vi has to be aggressive with her study work. She couldn’t bear the heavy disappointment in their eyes if she let them down. Never could it even be an option. The very reason why Ryder stuck to her like glue in the beginning. Neither of them really came from a lot. Had to take what they were given and double it.
Two sides of the same coin, landing in the same pile of shit, but making a life that constitutes more. Vi has never been so grateful. Of course she had friends, girlfriends, but none of them really understood.
Especially now that she’s here — Piltover University — life couldn’t be more different. Growing up in Lanes, this kind of future isn’t even conceivable. It was a shot in the dark. All you could do was hope your light shined bright enough for the topside to see.
With Powder’s help, and with her instilling new found studying habits, not to mention her athletic ability on the field, all of it came to her so easy. Pivoting with a ball being kicked across the turf, that’s what she knew better than anything. Relationships funneled through her life but this is the one love that wouldn’t give up on her.
When her pearly-white cleats are stained like moss with each drive of her feet digging into the surface, Vi becomes someone different.
Someone who could reach infinite options. More than she was given and all of what she earned. So, if she has to study a little bit more and party less — it doesn't feel like a big sacrifice. As the last two years went on, Vi could feel Ryd slipping. When the two of you started dating six months ago, it only became worse.
Dodging practices, needing Vi’s notes on a weekly basis, she couldn’t stop falling behind. It’s when the distance between them started. Vi took her future seriously. Even if she did love Ryd like a sister, she wasn’t going to let anything drag her down. Whether it be moving into the pros or falling back on her business major, she could have everything she’s worked so hard for.
After this spring, there’s only two semesters left. Her future is right in sight. Nothing is going to get in her way. No attachments, no girls, no distractions. Her entire life is contingent on the next year.
Vi hates to admit it. Even to herself, the desire to announce it becomes sealed, barreled under lock and key. Almost like if it was confessed, every bit of her dreams would be cracked and soon crushed under her maker’s hands.
March is the lull before all of it ramps. Finals, one game after the other before summer claims another season and she can return home before camp for preseason begins.
Lanes makes her feel less like an imposter but there’s a fealty of home she can’t shake. It’s why she likes to visit for a couple weeks. Possibly even a month. Feeling a glimpse of her former self brings comfort, less like she abandoned her family, the physical distance is small yet it seems to make an impact on her.
Their home wraps around her like a second skin, claiming comfort in a warm way. Like honey dripping to the bottom of a boiling hot tea. A feeling Piltover has yet to achieve.
Frostly frigid, the Pilties nip at her scars, in hopes she might resemble the rocky moon instead of the blinding sun. Not enough shine to go around for someone who was never one of them.
Every day Vi grows more isolating than the next, each breath she takes in Piltover is a punctured lung, making it harder to breathe.
When Powder visits with a slight overstay to her welcome, Vi doesn’t bicker. Part of her even welcomes the intrusion. Ryd is the only person she really has. On the surface, there’s always a lot of people around her. Ever since she took the team to nationals in her freshman year, gnawing paws have been greedy with her.
Expecting to be social, press post-game interviews drowning her anytime they had the chance. She tries not to be too freaked when there’s headlines of her online, or she sees videos of main media outlets critiquing her mistakes and praising her in top highlights. Even the godforsaken fan edits. She really tries her best to not think about those.
The heat on her name is everything she needs to become a professional athlete. But with all of it comes popularity she doesn’t care for. Endless invites to parties, girls who want every ounce of her attention — Vi just wants to get through it. Media she has to be agreeable for even though she prefers pussy in her mouth and a fake dildo to split a woman on. Stress for her breaks at an all time high. Every day she feels her teeth grinding an ounce tighter. Her pressure elevates more. It won’t be long before she cracks.
But Powder likes to fuck with her and the attention she gets. Way too much. She doesn’t tell Powder how much she loves it. How human it makes her feel.
messages. one new notification. 1:15pm: i miss you, baby. it’s been two weeks and wayyyy too long.
“Well, would you look at this!” Powder’s eyes bulge at the new message before Vi can turn her phone face down. It’s too late. The inevitability of the ever so curious gaze forming walls around her, waiting to cage in her older sister.
“Oh, don’t—” Vi manages to snatch her phone, thank god, and secures the device in the pocket of her oversized sweatpants. “I’ve had enough of that from last time. I still have to deal with you telling Ash I’m in love with her. She’s convinced I’m too shy to make a move.”
Powder laughs, hysterically. As if it’s the most comical action to be made in the entire world. Vi’s annoyance on full display with the over-exaggerated eye roll. It’s more than she wants to stomach. Her little sister has this thing, an ability to see right through her. Most of the time she can deflect but Vi is out of practice from Powder’s antics. The tolerance for her sharp mouth is exceedingly low.
“She doesn’t know you very well. Shy? When it comes to women? Must not know about you know wh—”
Vi closes her eyes, visibly pinching the bridge of her nose. “Can we not?”
“Suppose my matchmaker skills were off that day.” Powder shrugs her shoulders. It’s not a big deal. Really. Violet just dodges the one class she has with her. “What about her?”
Of course it’s you.
It’s not even been a week since the small strings of text stopped. Four days. Vi hasn’t stopped thinking about you. Imagining your flustered expressions, the secret one hidden behind your phone. The stupid hang up has her mind jumbled. More conflicted than she should ever allow. You must have your contacts out. The brown-tortoise frames flutter on the bridge of your nose framing your full cheeks and bright eyes.
The rest of your attire is simple enough. A white button-up hanging loosely with the sleeves rolled up to your forearms, a sleeveless tank matching in color with simple blue-denim jeans. Your hair partially pinned up in a dreamy way, curls highlighting your glowing cheekbones, maybe Vi even sees dimples forming dents in your cheeks. Or she could be just imagining things.
“You could stop the drooling.” Powder smirks. “Or don’t.”
“Powder—”
It’s a warning. One Powder will not heed. Vi knows it the moment it flies out of her lips but she hopes if her head is stooped low enough, maybe you’ll walk past the both of them. She can’t deal with you. Not when you’re looking perfect, gorgeous in an effortless way. If she didn’t adore you so damn much it would make her sick with envy.
“Finally picked a winner.” Her plotting spirit grins, watching Vi unable to contain the softest eyes encapsulated by you.
“Enough.” Vi nips. Turning to another page of her textbook. A chapter she’s hardly paying any attention to. “I’m not having you mess with this one.”
“What’s so special about her? Did Violet finally fall in love? Was that her who texted you?”
“I fucking wish.” Vi groans in her textbook before a study group a few tables over effectively shushes her. Fucking nerds. Who comes to the park anyways? It’s loud. Dogs parking, moms gossiping about their kids across the street, frisbee golf being played throughout the park. Not exactly a quiet scenery.
“You’re usually not this honest with your…feelings.”
“Can’t be honest with anyone else about it. Especially not here.” Vi breathes it out in one solid breath. Hoping that the words fly away and take her away with them.
Powder doesn’t push. It seems the sincerity in her eyes follows Vi’s gaze. Having a longing like this is worse than death. Prickly thorn pricking at her sides, puncturing her anytime you’re in her vicinity.
The cafe is just across the street. Vi is here constantly and she’s never seen you here once. You look nervous as you gaze up at the menu board outside. Book in hand as you pick at your chipped nail polish. Eyes scanning over as you fidget with the mixed assortment of gold and sterling-silver rings on the base of your fingers.
“We have an extra chair.” Powder is horribly eager to get another piece of you. One single conversation would be enough for her. Vi is just entirely too nervous, possibly even a bit greedy, to offer it. The moments she has with you, however small they may be, always felt like they only belonged to her. She’s desperate to keep it that way.
The solidarity Vi finds when she’s alone wondering how she can stomach another day in the world — and your laugh plays on an endless loop. The delicate tone of your voice reverbs in her mind, chants of her name she wishes you would whisper in the dead of night.
“No—”
“Fine. But you have to go talk to her. Now.” Powder picks up a single chip from Vi’s plate. “Or I’m finding out every little thing about her. Find out if she likes you. Give her a call or two.”
She doesn’t. But the last thing Vi needs is for Powder to meddle in it. Nothing she can’t let wallow. A blip feeling that comes and goes. Powder can’t go and muck it all up with words she’ll shamelessly release without a second thought.
“I hate you.” Violet curses underneath her breath but there’s no true malice. Not a drop of it.
Doubts make a home in the forefront of her insecurities, wondering if this is even a good idea in the first place. Ryder and you on the rocks, her leaping heart quivering each time you find her eyes in the bone-crushing way you manage. The resolve in her spine cracks underneath the pressure. Unresolved feelings latched on to her like a disease, making her crumble when she’s just a mere few feet away from you smiling softly.
She waits to cross the street, watching you with a careful eye with a slight hope you might dodge inside and not see her. The second she does, you spot her with immediate anticipation. Like Vi texted you and it wasn’t your sixth sense coming in.
“V!” You screech when you see her.
Powder is never going to leave her alone now.
A part of her wishes you hadn’t seen her. Maybe for some reason, you’d forget her from your memory. It would do her wonders if you did. Here you are, beaming brightly in a way Vi will never forget. She even lets you nickname an already shorter version of her name. From the depths of her heart, Vi is indiscreetly aware of how much the name would irritate her if it came from anyone else.
One embrace from you melts her. Viciously making wonders on her skin mixing in with her own, claiming Vi as the serotonin drips in her brain. She will spend hours making sure every part of you leaks right out. It’s the only way she can save herself from your new found freedom.
She knows how in love you are with Ryd. Despite your anger festering last night, a reality that Vi will slap on her skin. You being single on a temporary technicality doesn’t change things. Ryd is just much more oblivious and idiotic than she thought. Treating you like a child who can’t make your own decisions. It’s college. Some are more experienced than others. Who cares? But apparently, Ryd did.
“You’re just who I wanted to see. I was going to call you once I got home.” You grab her hand like you’ve done it a million times before. Delicate fingertips warm the back of it, sensitive skin igniting at your touch.
You were?
Vi lets the question seal itself on her tongue. She looks back for a second to see Powder already gathering her books and fleeting off in the direction of her apartment. Worries of her things being left behind already skyrocketing. It’s a small comfort to have Powder reading her mind.
You only let her hand go when the two of you sit on opposite sides of the booth. Vi is thankful for it. Now, she might stand a chance of thinking clearly. Vi orders mindlessly and she watches as the waitress flirts with you in a way you don’t seem to recognize. Like you’re not aware of how blindly beautiful you are. It makes every inch of her sick.
Eventually the waitress leaves, your focus lasered in on her, a rapid heartbeat to match.
“I want your help—” Vi crunches on your words, hoping it would be hard for her to stomach, and all she craves is more of a taste.
“With what exactly?” She doesn’t really know what to expect if she’s being honest with herself. Your relationship didn’t go behind the invisible string of Ryder. Now more than ever, answering the phone call is seemingly and continuously biting her in the ass.
“Well…you’re experienced—” If only you knew. “You obviously know how to talk to girls and to land them.” Funny you say that. “And that’s something I need to do if I want to get Ryd back. It’s what we both want.”
“It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself of it.”
Vi is saved by Beth, the waitress who can’t or won’t stop eyefucking you. Not that she cares that she’s filling your sugar-filled soda you’ve barely touched and has yet to refill her water with lemon even though the glass is more than half empty. Batting her raven-black eyelashes at you, expecting you to kiss every single one. She really isn’t thinking about it.
If anything, Vi knew the words would be difficult for you to stomach. The reality of the situation is clear as day. Ryder wants to do something you clearly don’t want but you love her too much to say otherwise. It’s a jab Ryder shouldn’t have made — the lack of pussy you have on your roster — an obvious cop out for whatever is really going on.
And Vi is always caught in the middle.
Maybe for your pride, and maybe for the sake of not wanting to be pushed in this fucked up arrangement, Vi can’t just come out and say it. Every form of the truth would be like a scarlet letter, branding the sinking feeling that drops deeper when you say her name or greet her with a smile. Or a shot of the nickname you gave her. Your adoration stings like untethered devotion, a sin she desperately wants to commit.
The devil on her shoulder craves to know what changed from wanting all of it to end to giving what Ryd wants. Have the two of you talked? Or did your anger simply gravitate towards complacency? Did Ryder even ask if this is what you want? Or did she just expect it from you?
“V? Where’d you go?”
“Sorry— um nowhere, I’m here.” She can’t help herself from being anywhere else. Even if she tried, her devilish sister with sweet intentions is hell bent on making sure she doesn’t operate the rest of her life alone. Powder doesn’t know yet that you’re the wrong girl. It would never work out.
“That party is tomorrow night? The one you told me about?” Fuck it is. “I thought maybe I could go like you suggested. Meet someone and get whatever I need out of my system.”
Is that what you want? To get fucked by someone just because your girlfriend is an idiot and can’t appreciate what she already has? What’s under her fucking nose, the most perfect woman I’ve ever met, entranced by my best friend and I’m the one sentenced to be tortured until graduation.
“I could introduce you to uh — someone, who would just want a one time thing.”
I need to get you away. To put an end to this nightmare. Whatever it takes to get you back in Ryder’s arms and away from me.
“Really? You would do that for me?”
I would do anything for you. The thought snaps out at Vi but she swallows it, drinking the rest of her water Beth can’t seem to fill. When it’s time to bring the check, Beck asks for your number, right in front of her. Caressing your arm in a way that Vi thinks is completely unprofessional but you’re beaming with delight. Practically seeing rainbows and sunshine behind your eyes.
“Y-yeah, sure.” You fumble and Vi adds her favorite cafe to places she now has to avoid. How the fuck is she going to set you up with someone when seeing you flirt with a stranger makes herself want to become an arsonist to her own body?
Vi has never paid a check so quickly, ushering you out as you smile at the new contact in your phone. Dissonance might just be the cost to see the sparkle gleam in your eyes again. Vi insists on walking you back to your car, half a mile in the opposite direction but it doesn’t bother her one bit. In another life, maybe this could have been after your first date, jitters making the both of you anxious, but instead Vi weathers the anxious pit in her belly alone.
“Can you pick me up tomorrow before the party? I don’t think I can go alone. I’m not really built for that.” Vi smiles, shoving her hands in her pockets, if your fingers accidentally touch hers one more time she’ll latch onto them — and might never let go.
“Yeah. We can arrange that.” She’s trying to be calm, serene, someone steady enough for you to latch onto. That’s what you need. Besides your two best friends, the ones she’s seen you on facetime a few times, you don’t have another person. It’s only Ryder. Even if she’s being a human bag of shit right now, even avoiding Vi like she knows of your fateful phone call, Ryder would never want you to be alone and suffering.
“Well, pick me up at seven, yeah?” You lean against your jeep, watching Vi with pleading eyes, pouty and heaven sent.
Vi takes in your nervous picking of the cotton sleeves you pick at. Before Vi even knows exactly what she’s doing, calloused fingers reach out and play with one of the buttons on your shirt. You stop talking — you’re only watching her — and her gaze fixates on the marble button. Hues of grey and gold swirled, the mechanism threaded but your shirt must be old. Or at least worn in.
It’s barely hanging on.
The bones in her body defy her, each of them cracking under the weight of your gaze. Vi knows she’s strong, relentless, hardly anyone on the field can stop her on game day. When the adrenaline pumps through her veins, the highest level of serotonin travels to her mind, making her feel whole again. Complete. Like she’s always been worth something. The game has always been the missing piece for her.
Now Vi worries there might be a second, dislodging all she’s known, forcing her feet to score a goal on the wrong side of the field.
“You should wear that black dress, the one you wore to the banquet.” Vi loses herself in the memory before softly whispering, forgetting it wasn’t only to herself, “I swear the fabric glitters underneath the moon. Sparkling in the reflection of your eyes.”
Was that romantic?
“Do you want me to wear it for you?” You lean into her, eyelashes fluttering, a smile Vi wants to do something with.
Vi craves to let the truth spill, tempting from the tip of her tongue, but honesty with how she feels has never been her speciality. Better to let herself burn than to fall in the abandonment of your beating heart. Scared shadow dreams, it’s what love is made out of. Not the freckles scattered across her cheeks, rearranging in her sleep until they curve in each letter of your name. Love is made of fear. It creeps in the night, swarming nightmares until curses align into fallen dreams.
Fleeting. Fast. And then you fall.
Burying herself into the momentum where Vi has built her weakened pride. Here stands her fear of failure. Fear of no one ever knowing. The fright of never becoming anyone worth remembering. Then there’s hope, colored in the shade of your eyes, begging for a chance but she can’t freely give.
“Simmer down, princess. Save your game for the lacrosse team. Not me.”
“Mhm, we’ll see about that.” Before Vi can blink, you step in her space with a firm hand on her muscled stomach, playing with the flimsy cotton of her tee shirt. Until you, no one had ever touched her this delicately. So sweet she could feel her teeth rotting. There’s no question. She’d let them all decay to keep your timid hands on the expanse of her waist. Rhythmed taps implying you may want to speak more but nothing spills.
Your lips kiss her on the cheek. It lingers. It’s poison. Fuck, it’s downright demolishing. Vi wants more.
“See you tomorrow, V.” With a squeeze of her hand and heart, Vi thinks about fainting right there. “You should wear some of that smudged charcoal eyeliner. It makes the blues of your eyes so bright.”
“I don’t know. I’m sort of shit of putting it on.” Wrong answer.
You’re standing there all polite and adorable, still stroking her clenching abdomen, smirking at her proudly.
“I guess you’ll just have to come over early and let me do it then.”
kink shaming is good and we should do more of it actually, especially towards those weirdos who are all up in the caitlyn and vi tags talking about some "orientation play" bs
sorry but HBO Abby saying that Joel is pretty handsome took me out of it completely. my girl hated that man's face so bad she took her fists to it don't play with me now lmfaoo
also the way Mari's death was handled made me sick to my stomach. they strung this girl up like she was some kind of animal. I know the show is literally about cannibalism but there's a brutality to the way that poc are written that has just become more obvious and unacceptable in season 3. and shauna wearing her hair as a trophy....i think we all know where that comes from.
its such a shame because the premise of this show is so thought provoking and it really could have gone somewhere
the fact that shauna starts journaling about how much fun they had in the wilderness...that was literally JUST YOU LMFAO. truly allergic to self awareness. delusional queen.
I swear I thought I dreamed her; she never asked me once about the wrong I did
CHAPTER II – FROM DEATH'S DOOR
(post Santabarbara) abby x fem!reader: they say the ocean delivers and destroys. when a blonde, bloodied girl washes up on the shore of your lighthouse, she changes the tides of your life. What will remain when the storm settles?
masterlist // series masterpost // chapter one // chapter two
wc : 4k
cw: canon typical violence, descriptions of injuries, blood, angst
an: taglist is open <3 divider creds: @/cafekitsune, @/saradikagraphics
“Where’s Ellie?”
You blink once.
Twice.
“Who the hell is Ellie?”
You keep your voice low. The blood pulses in your veins, hot and rushing under the tip of the dagger. It would only take a small, small slip-
“Don’t play dumb with me. Where is she?”
The woman’s breaths are ragged, each heave hitting the skin of your neck, your jaw, your ear. You can see her diluted reflection in the window. Her hand trembles and she looks like she’s about to collapse. Probably because she is. You sigh, bracing yourself.
“Listen, I don’t know who you are, or what you are talking about. But if you kill me now, you’ll die here. Something tells me that you don’t exactly know how to navigate the coastline.” You give her reflection a pointed look, and you can feel the tip of the dagger falter over your shirt. “So why don’t we put that down, and have a civil conversation?”
There’s a pause and a soft string of curses before the dagger falls away from your waist. You let out a breath you didn’t even realise you were holding, slowly turning around to face her.
The light from the windows melts the gold on her hair and bleaches the colour out of her eyebrows. Sharp scars run jagged around her torso and arms. Her face is gaunt, eyes as clear as the sea. Huh, so they were blue after all
Her features pull into a scowl, equal parts annoyed and confused. “What are you gawking at?”
You tear your eyes away, making a swift tsk with your tongue. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just assessing the damage.” The woman’s eyes narrow, but before she can give you another scathing retort, you point at the chairs in the room. “Come on, we should sit down.”
She lumbers towards a cushioned stool, limping with the lacerations on her left leg. Her gait is heavy but not unbalanced, weight distributed with practiced intention; every passing moment confirms your hunch that she’s some kind of fighter. Was some kind of fighter. A slight tremor goes through you at the thought.
Once you are both seated, you ask her the question that’s been burning at the back of your mind since you found her.
“How did you end up in the ocean?”
There’s a long pause, and a storm precipitates in the impassive blue of her eyes. Her voice is controlled, calculating. “That’s not your damn business now, is it?”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Listen up blondie.” Her eyes twitch in annoyance. “Save the snark for when you can actually stand on your own two feet. I’m trying to help you out. I can’t do that if I don’t know anything about you. Give me something to work with here.”
The girl scowls, salt bleached brows knitting together. She twirls the dagger in between in her fingers absentmindedly. When she speaks, her voice is more exhausted than anything else.
“I was in Rattler territory for…I don’t even know how long. I think that’s what they’re called anyway. I can’t..” There’s a grunt of frustration. “I can’t remember details. I remember her though.”
“Ellie?”
Gulp. “Yes, Ellie.”
You scan her face, noticing the tension in her jaw, the way the dagger stills in her hand, the fingers twitching with murderous intent. You’re all too familiar with the Rattlers. You can still remember the panic in your throat, racing away from the gunshots that greeted you when you first came to the coast 8 months ago. Any hope that you had of finding what you had been looking for evaporating like water left out for too long in the scorching sun. All that trouble for a Firefly base that didn’t even exist..
Your eyebrows furrow, trying to physically dislodge past from your memory. Focus.
Whoever this Ellie chick was, she certainly had shaken up this girl. Fear crawls up your spine, unwelcome and chilly. There’s someone out there dangerous enough to scare this tank of a woman? Perfect, that’s just what I need right now.
“Ellie is…” She makes a strangled noise in the back of her throat that you belatedly recognise as a huff of laughter. Manic as well then. This just keep getting better. “God, how do you even explain Ellie?”
“You can start with why you’re dead set on looking for her. You know, so much so that you held a dagger to my neck about it?”
Her fingers trail over her thigh, fingers brushing the bandages wrapped around the lacerations. There’s a long silence before she speaks again.
“We have unfinished business.”
5 days ago
When Abby falls to the ground, it’s with a realisation that she is in fact, still alive. Could have fooled her, honestly.
The ropes fall away under the slice of a knife, and suddenly she can move wrists she thought would be fused together till her dying breath. Her head lifts from the mud and it’s the moth tattoo she sees first.
“You”
Ellie says nothing, simply hauls Abby to her feet. “Move.”
Abby stumbles along. Her ears ring, her limbs ache. There’s a hollow in her chest that the salt air seems to swirl around and bellow out of. She lets Ellie walk her to the coast, barely registering it until the saltwater nips at her ankles, biting into the open bruises.
“Wait- what…what are you-”
Ellie lets go of her shoulders abruptly. Abby stumbles, barely catching herself from faceplanting onto the beach. The sharpness of Ellie’s knife glints in the dying light. Her voice is a barking command.
“Stand. Fight me properly”
Abby doesn’t know whether she should laugh or cry.
“I said. Get. Up.” Each word is punctuated with a sharp kick to Abby’s knees. A snarl escapes her throat, fists clenching. She knows she has no energy to stand, let alone fight.
She swings anyway.
Abby’s fist connects with Ellie’s jaw with a sickening crack. Ellie is caught completely off guard for a second before her face contorts into a mask of fury. Abby has never seen anger look so smug before. Like Ellie was longing for this, for this final, pathetic and graceless scuffle between the two of them at their weakest. Like she wanted to die just as much as she wanted Abby dead.
Cold dread settles in Abby’s stomach and she fights like a cornered animal. Fist to dagger, the two women scrawl and toss on the beach. The water is a flood of blood, flowing from the faucet of Abby’s lacerations, from the blooming openings of Ellie’s bruises. Abby’s teeth find Ellie’s fingers, sinking to the third knuckles. With the taste of copper on her tongue and Ellie’s howl in her ear, Abby thinks of a rabbit caught in a trap, deep in the forest. Its teeth wrapped around its own mangled leg. Am I the rabbit, or the leg?
She snorts around the blood in her mouth. The sound breaks Ellie’s blood tinted haze, her knife stilling at her slide. For a moment that passes in a second and a century, they look at each other. Panting, bleeding from every crevice. Desperate for once in their lives for respite. Not victory.
Then the flat force of the hilt of Ellie’s dagger is hitting Abby’s head, knocking her to the edge of consciousness. Her vision swims in a starburst of light and a coma of darkness. The push sends her stumbling onto the boat docked at the edge of the coast.
Ellie sinks to the ground. Her head hangs low. In the moments before unconsciousness pulls Abby under, she realises that Ellie is crying.
Her dagger flies in an arc, embedding itself in the wood holdings, cutting the boat free.
Abby isn’t awake to hear her final words.
“Go. Just go.”
“Unfinished business? That’s not vague or ominous at all”
The woman seems to find the corner of your floorboards exceedingly interesting. She refuses to look at you, jaw set in a steely warning.
You huff in annoyance. “Well, what do you mean by that? Will she come looking for you?”
The silence continues. Her eyes dart everywhere but your face before finally settling on the table between you.
“No, I don’t think she will.”
You massage your temples, trying to keep the beginnings of a headache at bay. “Okay? Then what’s the problem? Why did you ask me if she’s here?”
“I…I don’t know. I was just worried. She was the last person I saw before I ended up in the water.” She gestures vaguely at herself. “Not exactly a friendly encounter, as you can tell.”
“No shit.” You absentmindedly pace around the cramped room, mind racing to piece everything together. “So, were you both kept by the Rattlers? Did she fight you to get to the boat or something?”
“No”
You pause and look over at her. “Then what was it?”
“She wasn’t held by the Rattlers. She came looking for me.” Try as she might, the girl can’t mask the slight tremor in her voice. “She…she let me go.”
When you turn around, the expression on her face smothers any other questions that rise in your throat. The look in her eyes is vacant and disturbed; the face of a haunted woman. You ask the blonde for her name and leave it at that.
She doesn’t ask for yours.
1 day later
Abby. Short for Abigail, perhaps? You don’t know for sure. And based off the way she’s been acting, you probably never will.
“So, where are you from? Where did you grow up?” No answer.
“Why did you come to California in the first place?” A wall of silence.
Try as you might, Abby doesn’t budge. Not one bit.
The days flow into a week, the hours taking the shape of a strange yet rhythmic routine. You wake up, tend to Abby’s wounds and then head out to scout and shoot gulls for the day’s meals. An hour later, Abby is up, patrolling the perimeter of the lighthouse, deaf to your laments about her still limping leg.
You sit at the watch room of the lighthouse, salvaged binoculars perched on your nose. The rhythmic creaking of the rusting swivel chair fills the room as you twirl absent mindedly. The bird’s eye view allows you to see her from here, stalking across the demarcations of the cliff edge with practiced ease. She’s healing steadily. Most of the open wounds have started to close up, and she’s slowly but surely gaining weight, limbs resembling what they might have looked like in better times, shoulders broadening with some much-needed sturdiness. Not that you’re looking at her or something. Just an offhand observation. Obviously.
The binoculars fall to the table with an annoyed thump. You can’t afford to be thinking this way. Definitely can’t afford to be thinking this way about some random stranger you found washed up on the beach. With a huff, you descend the winding stairs of the lighthouse, emerging onto the platform. The sky is a clear blue, the edges almost transparent, bleeding right into the sea. Abby is perched on a rock outcrop, leg propped up on the edge, back lax against the surface.
“Anything noteworthy today?”
She looks up to see you approaching. A sharp shake of her head is the only response you get. You roll your eyes. This is getting old. You start walking closer, hands moving animatedly as you express your exasperation.
“Listen up, blondie. If you’re going to stay at my place, eat my food and expect me to heal you, the least you can do is make decent conversation. How hard can that possibly be -oh!”
Abby’s hand shoots out, wrapping around your waist. You try to ignore the heavy press of the callouses on her palm, how it’s so very strong. The sand at your feet has given away slightly, the golden dust falling into a small pit that had opened up under your wandering feet. She lifts you onto the rock outcrop she’s sitting on without so much as a grunt of exertion.
“Watch your step. Do you not look where you’re going?”
You’re stunned for a good few moments before you manage to speak. “I…I was distracted,” you manage to sputter out. “It’s your fault, really.”
Abby lets out a genuine laugh at that, and you have to physically hold your jaw up from dropping to sand. The sound is warm but weary, the levity of the moment strained by the circumstances. The blazing rays catch and refract into her eyes. The blue of her irises shimmer like the waves that crash just a few meters away-
“Hello? Earth to…wait” Abby’s brow furrows. Adorable, by the way. “I didn’t get your name. What is it?”
It spills from your lips with careless haste. You can’t believe she’s speaking to you, after almost a week of communication that primarily included nods of affirmation and grunts of disapproval. You try to relax on the rock outcrop, ignoring the way she’s so close you can feel the heat from her body, the strain of sinew on her leg right next to yours. You swallow a sudden wave of nerves, tamping down the strange urge to blush that overcomes you. “About time you bothered to ask. You’re a terrible guest.”
That earns you a wry half-smile. “I guess I am. I’ve fallen out of practice.”
When you share it with her, your name sounds different in her voice. With a strange shiver that’s both welcome and terrifying, you realise that no one has spoken your name in months. You haven’t spoken to anyone in months in general. Your eyes sting and you blame it on the salt on the air.
Abby doesn’t seem to notice, or at least she has the decency to pretend not to. Instead, she stares of into the distance. Her voice is soft, barely above a whisper.
“How long have you been here?”
The silence stretches, beats marked by the lapping waves. With a defeated sigh, you give in. She’s clearly not going anywhere anytime soon. No harm done, right?
“A few months. Almost nine now.”
She turns and looks at you. Really looks at you, for once.
“Alone?”
You don’t need to answer.
1 week later
Today’s catch of fish is far from satisfactory. The waves have been acting up, getting increasingly more unpredictable. It throws off your rhythm, the routine you’ve built over the months. So many hours spent threading rope together, landing in the exact spot that you painstakingly predicted the shoal to travel through, only to get a measly three sea bass.
You don’t realise that your features are contorted in a near cartoonish scowl as you furiously drag the fish bucket up the winding steps of the lighthouse. It’s only brought to your notice when you round the final platform to the square built kitchen area, coming face to face with a smug looking Abby. One corner of her lip is tugged upwards, single canine visible. You scoff, turning away to plop the bucket down on the floor (and also to hide the heat on your face). “What the hell is so funny, huh?”
And there it is again, that genuine, painfully charming laugh. She looks you up and down before pushing off the ledge she was leaning against, taking the three fish up and out of the bucket in a single grip and dipping them into a bucket of water for washing. “Nothing. Just that look on your face.”
You arch an eyebrow, trying (and failing) to keep an annoyed tone. “And what face might that be?”
“The “I didn’t catch enough fish so now the whole world is to blame for it” face.”
You gasp in mock offence and give her a sharp nudge with your elbow, earning another chuckle. “You try catching fish then. Not as easy as it looks, I can tell you that much. Some nerve you have, I swear-“
And so it goes, as natural as breathing. Your banter fills the room, replacing the cold wither of silence that once had its own life within these narrow walls. Abby fries the fish over the makeshift fire you have stoked in the cooking area. You eat it down to the bones and pretend you don’t notice the way it somehow tastes better when she makes it.
2 weeks later
Abby tosses and turns, her limbs knocking against the rigid confines of the sofa. As the constant pain of her injuries start to ebb away, the more she feels frustrated with the less than comfortable sleeping arrangement. She fidgets almost petulantly, throwing one arm over her face, turning to her side and huffing all the while.
You stare from your position in the meagre bed in the corner of the room. There’s positively no room. definitely not enough for someone of Abby’s stature. Really, just the logistical nightmare of the whole thing should be enough to stop you.
“Can you stop that?” There’s a split-second pause as you fully bite the bullet. “Just…just come up here.”
Her head shoots up almost immediately, those blue eyes dulled with the softness of sleep.
“Are you sure? I highly doubt we’re both going to fit.” Her voice is slightly gruff. Devastatingly attractive, whispers a traitorous part of your subconscious.
You shoot her an exaggerated wink. “I’ll make it fit. Come here.”
She rolls her eyes, but complies, lumbering across the wooden floors, the single blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Cute. You move to the very edge of the bed, the ridges of your spine notching against the peeling white wallpaper. The scent of damp clings to the loamy walls, curling around the two of you like a veil. Abby sits on the edge of the bed at first. Her back turned to you, fingers fidgeting with the threadbare sheet. A nervous snicker escapes, you can’t help it.
“You picked the most comfortable spot, didn’t you? Congrats.”
She huffs, in annoyance or amusement you cannot gather. After a few beats, she brings her legs up, finally laying down next to you properly. The air thickens, every molecule suddenly weighing more than it should. You’re hyper aware of everything. The way her chest rises and falls next to you, the hypnosis of the soft inhale, exhale. You wonder if her heart is battering against her ribs like yours is. You feel ashamed that you want it. Want it so bad that-
“You always snore, by the way.”
It’s so abrupt that you make a strange noise, something caught between a snort and a gasp of surprise.
“I beg your finest pardon?”
And now you can hear it, the reluctant smirk in her tone as she speaks, even as her features are barely outlined by the feeble light of the lamp.
“You heard me. I can hear it from the sofa when you fall asleep before me. It’s louder than a lawnmower.”
Another snort. “And what do you know about lawnmowers? No one uses those things anymore.”
There’s a beat of silence, and her voice softens into something more nostalgic. “That’s true. But I know they made a lot of noise.” She trails off and you respect the silence, knowing that she’s teetering on the edge of telling you something. Something that’s worthwhile. “My….my dad used to say it as a figure of speech. Whenever something made a ruckus…he’d say it was louder than a lawnmower.”
It should sound mundane. In any other circumstance it would be. You want to press, ask her about her father, what he did, where they lived together, how life was before she showed up here. But even you catch yourself thinking of him in past tense. The way she speaks, so filled with melancholy solidifies the suspicion. This isn’t just an anecdote. It’s an obituary.
So instead, you turn on your side to face her. She doesn’t follow, keeps her eyes trained straight at the ceiling ahead, but you notice the way the tension drains from her shoulders. You’ll take what you can.
“My dad used to say have all these strange figures of speech too. Whenever I came back to our house crying about a lost trading card or toy, he’d say that I was ‘making a mountain out of a molehill’. I have no idea what a molehill looks like, but I’m guessing he was trying to say I was making a big deal out of a whole lot of nothing.”
There’s a ghost of a smile lingering on her features. “That’s a creative one. I’ll give him that. I guess it was easier to be creative in…in those times. You know, before all hell broke loose.”
You nod; your gesture lost in the dark. “I guess it was. The people around my dad’s age always had such interesting ways of speaking.”
Abby’s eyes move sideways slightly, catching your gaze. “People? Did you…grow up in a community or faction?”
You’re so very tempted to clam up. To give her the same avoidance she’s been handing you for days. But you swallow the pride, the grief that licks at your belly like an angry beast. “Yeah. You could call it that. We had a settlement. Just a few families in the same area.”
The sheet rustles as she shifts slightly. “And where…where was this settlement? Do you remember?”
You laugh, but there’s no humour in it. “Yeah, I remember alright. It was in Seattle. Washington.” Your eyes dart to the ceiling as well. Just in time to miss the way the tension returns to Abby’s muscles. The way her jaw clenches imperceptibly, the tick in her eyebrow.
You sigh, deep and bitter. “There was this…uprising of sorts. A new group.” You scoff. “I was so young. I only knew them as the wolves at the time. A fitting name, I guess. After a while, they became just like those FEDRA bastards. We…my parents and a few others tried to fight back. Clearly, it didn’t work out. I…I ran away.” Another sigh, this one just bone weary and tired. “It’s a long story. You won’t get much out of listening to it.”
She closes her eyes, as though the movement can shut out the waves of nausea that rise up in her. She prods with masochistic curiosity, scratching at open emotional wounds.
“And where did you run to? If you were a kid when the uprising first happened, and you only got here 9 months ago…you must have spent some years on the move, right?”
A wry smile tugs at your lips. “You’re going to laugh at me.”
Abby swallows around the lump in her throat. “There’s nothing remotely funny about this.”
You’re taken aback, but give in, nonetheless. “Jeez, okay then. After I escaped Washington... I went looking for the Fireflies. Was hoping to join them, because being alone out here is a death sentence. A year ago, I heard they were here in California.”
You let out a derisive laugh. “Turns out, they’ve been out of action for a while. I came here and almost got rounded up by the Rattlers. Barely made it out alive. That’s why I ran all the way here.”
There’s a long pause. You try to make out her expression under the dim light, but she’s still looking at the ceiling, not giving you much to work with. You wonder if she doesn’t know who the Fireflies are at all. “You know…that group that was fighting FEDRA in the main QZs? They were quite the big deal back in the day. I’m sure you’ve heard of them.”
Abby keeps her eyes closed. She feels an anchor sink into her gut, heavy as sin and rotting like guilt. It isn’t grounding, her mind still unmoored and reeling. Her voice surprises her with its own steadiness.
“No, I haven’t heard of them.”
You shrug under the cover, closing your own eyes. “Fair enough. There were so many factions back then. Did no one any good in the long run anyway.”
As you drift off to sleep, a single tear fights its way out of Abby’s eyes. Trails down her scarred cheek, splashes to the pillow.
an : writer's block works hard but i work harder (this took me more than 6 months) taglist and requests are open as always
archery coach!ellie whose hands convey more words than her mouth. instead of molding your form with spoken instructions or simply telling you what to do, she takes the liberty to pose you herself, as if you were a prized doll.
"you gotta stand up straighter, and make sure you pull with your back and not with your arm. you're supposed to feel the stretch right here." she jabs in the middle of your shoulder blades with her middle finger, sending a chill down your spine. she's so close, you can't bear to look her in the eye. you briskly nod, and try to feel the thing she was describing.
aim, draw, shoot, and you hit the target. bullseye. "yeah, exactly like that!" she hesitates with her hands outstretched for half a beat, her eyes scanning yours to see if she can ""instruct"" you some more.
her roughened palms graze your ribcage feather-lightly, while she angles you to one side. her breath tickles your earlobe and you think to yourself, when did she get so close, but before you have to process her right hand rises to gingerly run along your jawbone, catching you off guard.
"this is your anchor point, make sure your drawing hand makes contact here, and then pull back—don't forget to breathe—and release." none of this was in actuality even the tiniest bit erotic, but the commanding timbre of her voice sent a fiery blush to the spot she caressed.
when you're struggling with a piece of your equipment, let's say your sling, she's quick to fix it for you, fiddling around with your fingers and slipping the shoelace loop back around your thumb. after making sure youre all set, she retreats to observe you shoot on your own.
you think you're hallucinating when you hear a husky comment, unmistakably in her voice, "thats it, baby. just like i taught you."
ignore me lol bored at practice have this shit thing while i work on real stuff and fistfight my perfectionism demons
tumblr decided to fuck with me today and post this while unfinished 2 TIMES. like okay girl I'm working on it jeez ✋🙄 tumblr sub!ellie enjoyer #confirmed.
this was supposed to be a short blurb but as usual i got carried away cus it was too fun to write lol. sub!ellie has been plaguing my mind I'M SICK (ovulating), enjoy. also @hypnagogics thank u tvin for the idea and encouragement
warnings: smutty smut smut, bottom sub!ellie yum, praise, use of sex toy, written at like 1 am excuse any grammar mistakes
MDNI!!!
"What the fuck are those?"
A mysterious black box sits in between your red-headed friend and you, perched on top of the couch you're both currently lounging on. You've been busy these past couple of days, to say the least, after discovering a certain shop on your patrol. The lone mall you came across outside of town was surely filled to the brim with supplies, you thought as you entered, exploring different stores and rooms when something bright colorful and caught your eye.
A neon pink sign reading "Lovehoney" flickered above a shop you've never seen before; it looked half-empty, with just a few lonely mannequins posing in the window, their bodies clad in nothing but mismatched, lacy underwear. Intriguing.
You swore you would only take one, maybe two...fuck it, three. Oh, but the rainbow one is so pretty. Whatever. You honestly did not know how it happened, but that day you carried home at least 5 sex toys. They were all different sizes, shapes, colors, intended for different purposes. Obviously, you picked up a stack of batteries you found behind a counter, hidden away behind some dirty magazines (you took those too), and a harness, just in case. Okay fine, some lingerie as well.
In that box, which your dear friend Ellie was looking at and referring to, were those exact sex toys. You try not to laugh as you look at her confused face, snickering at her question.
"Els, seriously? You don't know what these are?" you ask her, holding up a purple vibrator.
"Yes, seriously. I-I mean, I have a few guesses, but..." Ellie says, pink blush evident on her cheeks, teeth gnawing on her bottom lip in curiosity.
"What are they, hm?" you tease her, finding this a little too funny.
"...sex toys of some kind?"
"Bingo! Look how many I managed to snag, and they all work!" You happily say, gesturing at the bundle in front of you. Well, what else were you supposed to do in your free time? Of course you tested out every single one.
"They all...work?" she breathed out.
Shit, did you say that out-loud? You tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear as you look away, putting the toy back into the box. "Yeah... Yeah, they work...pretty well. I mean, don't worry! They're all thoroughly washed." Seriously?
A pause ensues and you think you fucked this up. Great, Ellie's gonna think you're a fucking weirdo now. Seriously, who shows their friend their sex toys? Weirdos probably, that's who.
Just before you were about to spew an array of apologies, your eyes suddenly snap to the girls hand as she slowly picks up a pink vibrator, a big, microphone shaped thing, and examines it, curious eyes flickering over the plastic. Okay, you're good. She doesn't hate you.
"I've never even fucking seen one of these. Jesus, how does— how does it work?" the cute furrow of her brows makes you smile as her hands spin the toy around, tracing the small buttons on the side.
"You're really asking me?"
Ellie scoffs, putting her hands up in defense. "What the fuck do I know? Just...never seen one before, so..."
God, she was cute, and clueless. You've never seen her this flustered, she even refuses to make eye contact.
You scoot closer to her, positioning your hands on her shaky ones as you place her finger on the 'ON' button.
"You press this and," she presses it lightly and the toy starts to buzz, which adorably startles her, "it does that, but here you can change the intensity. See?" You move her finger down, pushing it a couple of times to show her all of the different settings.
Hot, short breaths fan the side of your face and you can see in her gaze that she's intrigued, likely curious to what it would feel like. Before you catch yourself, you blurt out, "You can borrow it, ya know?"
Another pause.
"Sorry, I—"
"No, no, that's—"
Ellie sighs, furrowing her face as she feigns nonchalance, "I was gonna say it's not— you don't have to... I mean, I don't even fucking know how to use the thing, so... Like, the fuck do you even do with it, I don't—" she stops, looking at the pink toy again, "Whatever, just, yeah." She swiftly places it back in the box and scratches her neck, red cheeks and wide eyes.
Oh.
You think for a second.
Well, a friend would explain it to her; the placement, speed and all that. But, a very good friend would offer to show her, right? That's just what good, amazing friends do. Exactly. Definitely not because you've been absolutely dying to fuck her for months now, somehow always missing the chance to make a move. This was your in.
Fuck it.
"Uh, want me to show you?"
Beads of sweat gather at the nape of your neck, while sharp breaths brush against it in quick succession. Red hair tickles your cheek and your shoulder burns hot from the girl in front of you, her weak, warm body slumped on your chest.
"Oh, fu— fuck." Ellie rasps, her moans whiny and a bit shy as she gets used to the foreign feeling on her lower half.
Your hand sneaks its way under her shirt, quick fingers finding her pink, pebbled nipples, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh. In the other hand, the pink vibrator buzzes softly against the girls clothed core as you hold it in place, slowly trailing it up and down.
"Feels good?" you whisper into her ear and she nods, more eager than ever.
"Y-yeah, yeah, feels good." she's breathy and fidgety, but most of all, wet.
Wet, wet, wet. Fucking soaked. So much so, that you can hear it, even with the toy pressed up against her damp boxers, the color turning a few shades darker.
So, you press a bit harder, just to see her squirm in your hold, her tattooed hand coming up to squeeze your bare thigh and legs spreading a bit farther apart.
"Holy shit, please—"
"Please what, hm?"
God, were you enjoying this. Seeing the girl who half of fucking Jackson was afraid of, melt like absolute putty in your hands. Hearing her moans and pleas, feeling her warm touch on your skin, it was almost enough to send you over the edge. You would've never guessed she was a beggar, though, that was a nice surprise.
You smile into her hair, kissing her shiny temple. "Please what? Use your words." And she barely returns a coherent moan back. You already got her falling apart and you just started.
Ellie squeezes your thigh once more, bucking up her shaky hips off of the couch, "Can I take them off? Please? Please, please, please." The tip of her nose nuzzles your neck, the slightest touch sending shivers down your spine. Her desperation only fuels you more.
You chuckle. Oh, you were gonna ruin her.
"Only good girls get what they want, are you a good girl, hm?"
The toy trails up and down, pausing just where she needs you the most before continuing its path to her aching hole. It pushes and prods until her pretty moans slip past her swollen lips, getting muffled in the skin of your neck. You stop, lifting up the buzzing vibrator, just to drop it down again when you see her writhe beneath you.
"Yes, fuck, I'm being good, I swear!" Ellie mutters out and you can hear the slight hesitation in her trembling voice, this not being her usual role in the bedroom. Only a few have made it to this stage, her usual strong and somewhat quiet demeanour showing a totally different side to her.
But this, this side she doesn't let out often. This was absolutely different than any other hook up she's ever had. Hell, even Ellie herself wouldn't have guessed this is where she would end up tonight — on her friends worn-down couch practically, no, full on begging to get properly fucked.
A soft kiss is placed on your neck, just below your ear, your skin tingling from the sudden contact. She follows it by placing a few more sloppy ones, quivering moans slipping out in between. This was some sort of Ellie's way of bribing you, telling you to just take off her sticky undergarments and let her feel everything, she's been good so far, right? She deserves her reward.
"Please—" Ellie whimpers, so softly, so desperately that you barely catch it. You figure she's had enough.
"You can take 'em off. Slowly." You steadily take the toy off of her, a translucent string of slick sticking to it as you lift it up.
Holy fuck.
She was absolutely killing you.
Ellie nods, inserting her clammy hands into the waistband of her black boxers, slowly and painfully sliding them down her trembling legs. She returns to her position, thighs open so wide she would be embarrassed if she wasn't so fucking turned on. You take this as an invitation to continue and you place the pink vibrator just above her sensitive bud, testing out if she's ready as you massage her skin.
"That's it, good girl. You're being so good for me right now. You ready?" Fuck, you're shaking just as much as her and you're not even the one being touched.
"I'm-I'm ready. Mhm!" Ellie's almost unintelligible, babbling into your neck as she cranes her head to see your hand working its magic as it inches down.
As per her request, you lower the toy on her clit, starting off with small circles as you let her get used to the intense feeling. Ellie groans out, relieved that you finally let her have it. Finally, she feels the full effect of the pink toy that's been teasing her for the past half an hour. She's surprised she even lasted that long.
The sounds that fill the room are obscene, dirty, so fucking filthy. Wet squelches, whiny groans and curses fill up your ears and you swear you can feel everything you're giving her, almost on the edge yourself.
The vibrator continues to buzz deliciously against her swollen clit as you run your hand down her heated body, occasionally stopping to grope at her pretty tits and feel her quiver and babble in your hold. You can sense that she's close, needing that one final push.
"You close, hm? You gonna be good and come for me?"
Ellie, as good as ever, nods at your questions, eager to finally feel her release. As much as she was impatient, she wouldn't have it any other way.
No one else but you.
Her hips rock against your hand as you match up her speed, her pace messy and faltering as she chases her long-awaited high. Her breathing picks up and she moans louder than before, so near her peak it's almost painful — almost like she's waiting for your much needed approval.
"You can come, baby." You nod, voice hushed as you watch her with blown out pupils.
And she does, she comes so hard she could swear she's in another dimension. The orgasm hits Ellie hard and fast, her moans chocked up and high-pitched, plump lips open and brows creased — you could come just from the sight. Her weak hands grip your own, pale knuckles turning a shade lighter from the tight hold she has on you.
You, of course, talk her through it. "Good girl. My good girl. You did so well, you know that?"
After a string of curses and a couple of seconds later, Ellie comes down from her high, instinctively closing her trembling thighs around the vibrator placed between her legs and panting as she wipes the shiny sweat off her forehead.
"Holy fucking shit. That was— Fuck..." She pants, still meekly holding your thigh with one hand as she pushes the toy away from her, her aching pussy still overly sensitive for more. As much as you would love to overstimulate her, you decide to save that for another time, another lesson perhaps.
"Good? Bad? Never again?" You chuckle softly, feeling satisfied with yourself as you caress her auburn hair, weak fingers threading through her damp locks.
Ellie lets out a breathy laugh, "It was amazing, never felt anything like it. Shit."
A few moments of silence pass as you lay in each others arms, simply enjoying the presence of the other. Your sticky limbs tangled and your bodies sweaty as you match your breathing to Ellie's, cheek pressed on the top of her head.
"You know," you whisper in her ear, "you were being such a good girl, I'm up for some more..."
god i'm so sad we never got to see ellie actually having fun. her playing 'take on me' for dina and mentioning a bonfire, probably where she played or heard it for the first time, maybe they dubbed it as 'their song'. we'll never know, but i want to so badly. i want to see her laughing with her friends, getting nervous around dina, flirting with her. i want to see her with her hair down, in the summer after dipping into a lake, shaking her hair as she scrambles out and plops down on the grass. i want more of her. i want to see everything.
