I Love Your Professor Ellie Series, God... It's Beautiful, Perfect. Ellie Is So Soft, Fine, So Right(?

Hi okay so hear me out , fem reader x mean Ellie, so the reader feels insecure about her looks and ellie seems tired of it and straps the reader in front of the mirror to prove how pretty the reader is , making the reader look at theirself and mean Ellie slaps the reader if they ever disagrees or look away

Pretty girl - (ellie williams x reader)

Hi anon, fuck yes this is fr Ellie coded. And also just a warning I suck with writing smut so i'm sorry if it's bad.... i hope you enjoy

Pairing: ellie x fem!reader

requests are open again! send me your silly thoughts:)

warnings: 18+ MDI, slapping, strap usage (r receiving), insecurities, kinda mean ellie, mirrior sex

Summary: in which she showed her girl how pretty she really is

authors note: ugh it feels so good to be back, i have 12 drafts so be ready yall and also new gore fics coming soon because... live laugh love gore

masterlist

"take it" she said through gritted teeth as you felt her pound into you.

"I'm sorry" you cried through broken sobs.

You knew it was your fault. You knew you were the one that yourself into this position.

You and Ellie sat on the couch earlier that day, it was peaceful, the two of you silently sitting together.

A tiktok video landed on your fyp and you couldn't help but rewatch it over and over again.

She was so fucking pretty. She was everything you weren't.

It made you sick to your stomach.

Your gaze fell to Ellie as you imagined her with this girl. They'd make such a good couple, like those couples they put on the front page of magazines.

You wondered what Ellie thought when she saw girls like these on her fyp.

Does she wish you were someone different?

"Baby?" You felt her cold hand on your thigh, as she gave you light squeeze.

"Are you ok? You've been watching the same video over and over again" She asked with concern.

"Yeah" you replied hesitantly.

"I was just thinking"

"thinking of?"

You let out a sigh as you turned away from Ellie, you felt embarrassed to admit this.

"Well she's so... she's so pretty" you started.

You gave your phone to Ellie and you watched as she looked at the girl.

"I'm not that pretty, and I wish I looked like that honestly"

"what did you just say?"

You weren't supposed to answer her question. You weren't supposed to say anything.

But you did.

You fucking answered her.

"I wish I was as pretty as her" you said softly, you felt her eyes burning holes into the side of your face.

You missed the way Ellies jaw ticked, you missed the way the frown deepened on her face, you missed the way her eye twitched.

The girl she loved the most was insulting herself and it broke Ellie's heart.

She wished you saw yourself the way she saw you.

The only thing she could do was to show her girl how pretty she fucking was.

Now here you were, on your knees in front of Ellie's massive mirror.

The rug on the floor was burning into the palms of your hands and knees, tears were streaming down your face, and drool fell from your lips. Your ass stung and your cheeks were red from where Ellie slapped you repeatedly.

She wad ruthless with her pace, not giving you time to think.

She was fucking you stupid.

"C'mon baby" she said out of breath

"tell me how fucking pretty you are" she pinched your nipple and you let out a squeal

"Ellie please"

you felt her hand harshly hit your cheek, you moaned at the stinging feeling it left behind.

"i said tell me how fucking pretty you are" she repeated herself.

She was getting impatient. You could feel it in her pace.

"I'm pretty" another slap fell onto your cheek

"I didn't hear you"

her thrusts got harder. faster.

god you felt her in your stomach.

"im pretty!" You repeated louder.

"Now look at yourself in the mirror when you say it"

you slowly looked up into the mirror taking in your appearance.

You looked fucked.

You looked up at Ellie and there was a proud smirk on her face as she looked at where you and her strap were connected.

"Talk baby, or you won't cum" she said before slowing down .

You let out a scream of frustration, and she giggled.

She fucking giggled.

"please- I'll say it, but please don't stop" you begged.

A fresh coat of tears covered your face.

You were fucking pathetic.

Ellie picked up her pace and you moaned with relief.

"talk" was all she said.

You made eye contact with yourself in the mirror, your mouth fell open, and your eyes rolled to the back of your yeah.

She made you feel so fucking good.

"I'm the- the p-prettiest girl alive"

"that's my fucking girl"

She sped up, you weren't sure how she managed to, but she did. Her fingers roughly met your clit and you moaned at her touch.

You felt something build in your lower stomach. You were so fucking close.

"Ellie" you whimpered

"I know pretty girl, it feels good... c'mon let it out" she spoke to you so gently, like you were the most fragile thing ever.

But in reality she was fucking you senseless, but you loved every fucking second of it. She rubbed your clit for a few more seconds before you felt something snap inside of you.

You moaned loudly, and your body started shaking.

"there you go... my pretty girl" Ellie muttered on top of you as you came down from your high.

You both were breathing heavily, and you made eye contact with your girl through the mirror.

"Hi" you said with a shy smile. All Ellie did was smile back before you felt her move her cock at a steady rhythm once again.

"Ellie" you said softly, as you hissed at the feeling still sensitive from your last orgasm.

"I wasn't done with you, we still have a lot to learn.." she spoke as she thrusted into once again

"now look yourself in the mirror and repeat after me... 'I am the prettiest girl alive"

just found this song a week or so ago, and i can’t help but think of ellie every time i listen to it.. it’s called ‘she calls me daddy’ by king mala… if you could write a fic based on it i would fxcking love it♡

She calls me daddy - (ellie williams x reader)

Hi anon! Firstly this song fucking slaps??? It low-key reminds me of moth to a flame by the weeknd just lesbian edition. Anyway I hope you enjoy <3333

This story is based off the song She calls me daddy by King Mala! If you can please listen to the song as you're reading:)

Pairing: ellie x fem!reader

requests are always open, feel free to leave one or just send me a song and I'll take it from there:)

Warnings: cheating, men, homophobic parents

Summary: You might be engaged but you still always go back to Ellie

wc: ????

She's a little bit psycho

But she follows

When I call in the middle of the night

It might be a little superficial

She plays with the boys

But she comes home to me

Little fucked up but I think it's official

'Cause she might be your girl

But she's calling me daddy

"Hi Els" she heard you talk with a hushed voice. A smile spread onto Ellies face at the sound of your voice.

"Can you come over? I miss you" Ellie admitted.

"I miss you too" she could hear the smile in your voice.

God why did you have to be so fucking cute?

Ellie couldn't even see your face, but she can imagine the blush that spreads across your cheeks. The way your eyes crinkle anytime she says anything to you.

She knew the affect she had on you, but if only you knew what you were doing to her. It's embarrassing to even think about it.

"I'll try to come..." you started.

Excitement filled Ellie, as she thought of everything the two of you could do. You could watch a movie, or she could do your hair.

Oh! Maybe you can paint her nails-

"but Josh is here so I'm not sure" you finished your sentence.

The joy Ellie felt moments ago fell flat at the mention of your fiancè's name. She wanted to groan whenever you mentioned him in any conversation.

Why do you care so much? You don't even love him.

You quickly said goodbye when Josh called you to join him and all Ellie could do was wish she was him.

He gets to spend time with you. He gets to see you everyday, he gets to spend the rest of his life with you.

What does Ellie get? A few hours with you before you are called by your dear future husband. Hushed calls and quick texts.

No, Ellie didn't deserve this at all, but yet she stayed because she couldn't get enough of you.

As much as Ellie pretends to be in control of your relationship, you were the one that had the final say. Whatever you wanted, she would do.

It's kind of fucked up if you think about it.

The way you're playing the perfect daughter and the perfect wife while you would always come back to Ellie that same night. How you would take pictures with your fiancé, and soon after send Ellie pictures no one but your so called spouse should see.

It never bothered Ellie. Because she always knew that you belonged to her, and even if you were getting married nothing would change that.

She's mine

She wears a collar with my name

Secretive but not ashamed

She's mine

But I never tie her down

They always come around

Mine

Does he know that you call Ellie when he falls asleep? Does he know the type of pictures you send her? Does he fucking know how bad he is in bed?

Ellie wonders if Josh suspects anything. Hee probably wouldn't. He's so fucking stupid anyway.

He doesn't even know what your favorite color is. But Ellie does. Ellie knows everything about you.

The amount of times you've cried over your math homework. The amount of stuffed animals you had in your room.

Did Josh even know how much you loved Barbie when you were younger? Of course he doesn't.

Ellie let out a sigh when she saw your phone light up.

She gently reached over your sleeping figure, to grab your phone, trying not to wake you up.

When she turned the phone on, a picture of you kissing Josh appeared as your lockscreen. Ellie gagged at the photo, before she checked who sent you a message.

It was from the "love of your life", the message read 5 simple words: "when are you coming home?".

Ellie scoffed when she saw the text.

Is he really this fucking clingy?

Ellie replied "no! Sorry baby, I'm staying over at a friends house!"

Josh didn't even ask who. All he did was left you on seen.

Wow.

'Fucking nonchalant bitch' Ellie thought to herself.

She put your back onto the side of your bed as she lay down to face you. Ellie gently brought her hand up to remove the hair from your face.

Was this going to be it? Were you going to lie to your family your whole life?

Ellie didn't know the answers to these questions. And she knew even if she asked you, you would always reply with "I don't know Ellie" or "I don't want to think about it".

What happens if your affair gets exposed? Do you guys get to live a happily ever after?

In the past, before Josh was even in the picture, you and Ellie faced this same issue.

The two of you were madly in love but you could never be together. Everything you did was in secret.

Ellie liked to imagine that the reason why she never asked you out was because she could never stay committed to one person.

Back in college, Ellie remembered how'd she'd bring a different girl back to her dorm almost every night. But as soon as the sun rises she'd chase the girl out and she'd end up going to your dorm to cuddle.

She would always assure herself, that the reason she never told you back then was because she thought she would cheat on you. Like she did in all her previous relationships. But she knew that was a lie.

She'd been in love with you since the sixth grade, she was just in denial of her sexuality and she was terrified of your parents.

Ellie continued to stare at your sleeping face, as the light from the moon shown in.

If only she knew the situation the two of you would be in now, then she would've fought harder for you back then.

You should see their face when they finally realize

That she plays with the boys

But she comes onto me

Wanna change her mind but I get unwise

'Cause she might be your girl

But she's calling me daddy

You always knew you liked girls. Ever since you were a little girl. Your parents believed that only man and women could fall in love with eachother. You couldn't tell utter the word "gay" infront of them.

How were you supposed to live a lie? How were you supposed to pretend?

You fell in love with Ellie when you were 15.

The day the two of you lay on picnic blanket eating dry pieces of bread because Ellie forgot to bring toppings. You remembered you told her a stupid knock knock joke and Ellie laughed at it.

She always laughed at everything you said. Even when it wasn't funny. You looked at her that day, as tears fell from her eyes at the amount of laughing she did.

You realize you liked her a little more as a friend.

In a gay way.

When you were 17 Ellie kissed you.

And god you thought it was magical.

It felt like fireworks exploding. The world around the two of you blur as your lips passionately danced together. It felt like how all the romance novels described it.

You knew since that day, since that kiss, that what you and Ellie had was real.

The two of you started dating soon after.

Your biggest fear was that your parents would've found out. You'd be sent to boarding school, Ellie would be taken away from you and you'd be treated like shit for loving someone.

Unfortunately your worst fears soon became a reality.

Your mother had walked in while you and Ellie shared a quick kiss, and all hell broke loose.

Your mother ran in yelling, pulling you away from Ellie.

She blamed Ellie for making you this way. She used to say Ellie brainwashed you. But if only she knew. If only she believed you when you told her, this was love.

Your mother held you in her arms, as you reached out for Ellie. And soon after that, Ellie was kicked out and banned to come to your house or anywhere near you.

You were sent to boarding school and for the rest of your life your parents made you feel like shit, they made you feel worthless because of your sexuality till Josh came along.

The only reason you agreed to even consider getting married to him was so that your parents thought that you would be "healed".

After you were sent to boarding school you lost contact with the women you loved. All the men you've been with never compared to Ellie.

And even when the two of you reunited, you both knew your story wasn't over.

The love you shared was stronger than anything.

And as you stood infront of the mirror, wearing your wedding gown, all you could do was imagine that Ellie was the one waiting for you and not Josh.

In the mess

She's responsible

Change her mind

It's impossible

Close your mouth

You, catch a fire

Watch the girl get

What she likes

Ellie stood up as the wedding music started playing.

The crowd erupted in cheers as you walked down the isle.

Ellie looked toward your husband to be, the grin on his face made her sick. She wanted nothing more than to get a chair and to hit him in the face.

Ellie watched as your father left you with your husband. That should be her standing there. Not Josh. You should be the one walking to her, she should be the one you wore that dress for.

But yet you stayed true to your parents and you chose to walk down the isle to get married to someone you felt nothing for.

She watched as she fake smiled, she watched as you said I do and as you said your vows.

"You are mine for a lifetime" Josh spoke as he finished his vows. No you weren't. You weren't his.

She watched the lips that she has kissed so many times kiss another person. The pit Ellie felt in her stomach grew heavier, it felt like she could vomit at any moment.

The second you and your husbands lips touched the crowd cheered and screamed. Chants of your new surname filled the room as you locked hands and faced the crowd with your new husband.

A smile spread across your beautiful face, as the two of you started exiting the church.

You and Ellie locked eyes, as you made your way out of church. You gave her a small wink. A smile spread onto Ellies face.

That wink gave her hope.

Just because you got married doesn't mean you have to stop seeing eachother.

You've always been hers.

You don't need a ring to prove it. You don't need a wedding to prove your love for eachother.

Even though you were married Ellie had nothing to worry about, because she knew at the end of the day you'd be calling her daddy.

Authors note: a less depressing one for the first time in a while lmfao, but don't worry your regular scheduled angst will return in my next post;).... remember you are loved and to always be kind, my requests are also always open. I love you all!

Yours truly,

Zia <3

Ellie Williams x BPD! Reader please 🙏

Split Edges - ellie williams x reader

hi anon! i hope you enjoy:)

Pairing: ellie x fem!reader

requests are open! send me your silly thoughts

Warning: Intense emotional themes, self-sabotage, swearing, dark thoughts, panic attacks, co-dependency, manipulation, and one shocking betrayal

Summary: in which you needed help

masterlist

“I’m sorry I go from loving you to hating you in minutes.

I’m sorry I can’t tell what’s real.

I just don’t want to lose you.”

Ellie met you when she was at her worst.

And you?

You were a wildfire in human skin.

Charming one second. Distant the next.

Your moods didn’t shift—they switched. On and off. Light and dark.

And Ellie, for all her trauma-hardened edges, found herself drawn in.

You saw her, truly saw her. Not as a weapon or a survivor.

But as someone worth loving. That scared her.

But not as much as how fast she fell.

You loved hard. That’s the thing no one tells you about BPD.

It’s not drama—it’s devotion.

When Ellie laughed, it filled every empty part of you. When she touched your hand, it was like being stitched back together.

But the fear was always there.

She could leave.

And if she left, you’d unravel. So you tried to hold tighter. Love harder. Be perfect.

But no one can be perfect forever.

Ellie started pulling away after you had your first episode in front of her. You saw her glance at someone else for half a second too long.

Your stomach dropped.

Your heart snapped.

“You’re bored of me,” you said. “You’re already looking for someone else.”

“What?” she laughed, confused. “I just asked them for extra ammo—”

“No,” you snapped. “I saw you.”

The fight lasted hours. You cried. Screamed. Threw your knife into the wall.

Ellie didn’t leave.

But she didn’t touch you either.

And that’s when you knew:

She was starting to fear you.

And that made you hate yourself.

So you punished yourself. Silently. The way you always did.

But Ellie noticed the new scar.

One night, she sat across from you, voice low.

“I want to be with you,” she said. “But not like this. You have to get help.”

“I am help,” you hissed. “I’m the only one who’s stayed.”

“You love me so much you’re destroying me.”

That shut you up.

Because maybe she was right.

So you made her a promise: you’d try.

You’d get better.

For her.

And for a while, you did.

You journaled. You started meds. You smiled more. You apologized when you snapped instead of vanishing for days.

Ellie let her walls down again.

And things were good. Too good.

That’s how you should’ve known something was coming.

The knock at the door came on a rain-heavy evening. You opened it to find Dina.

Alive. Shaking. Pale.

“She told me you were dead,” she said to you.

You blinked. “What?”

“She said you lost it during a raid. That you bled out in her arms.”

“I’ve never even been in a raid,” you said slowly.

Dina stared at you.

Ellie had lied.

Not about you.

About Dina.

Because while Ellie had been healing you…

She’d been hiding the fact that she never stopped loving someone else.

You confronted her that night.

“You said she was gone.”

Ellie sat still, jaw clenched.

“She was. I thought she was—”

“Liar,” you whispered. “You wanted her gone. You wanted me to replace her.”

“You’re not a replacement,” Ellie snapped. “You’re... you're worse.”

The words left her mouth before she could take them back.

And just like that, the switch flipped.

You were done.

You disappeared the next morning. Vanished into the woods.

Ellie searched for days. Weeks. She cried. Screamed. Left notes carved into tree bark.

But she never found you.

Because you didn’t want to be found.

Until the next season, when Ellie found something under her bed.

A recording.

Your voice. Calm. Unstable. Honest.

“If you’re hearing this, I’m gone. Not dead—just done. You didn’t break me. I just finally saw who I was when I wasn’t trying to hold you. You were always scared of losing me. But I think I was more scared of losing myself.”

Ellie sits on the porch every dusk now. Alone. The wind carries echoes of your voice. Not real. But not gone either. She doesn’t know where you are. But part of her knows she’ll never find you. And for once, it’s not because you’re lost.

It’s because you finally let go.

Headcannons: professor!ellie williams x reader

masterlist

professor ellie masterlist

☆ Ellie knows she’s going to marry you long before she tells you. She buys the ring three months into living together. Keeps it hidden in her desk drawer beside annotated books and letters from you.

☆ She proposes on the floor of your shared office. Not at a dinner, not with a crowd—just soft music, ink-stained fingers, and a whispered: “Be my always. My only. My mind, my muse, my wife.”

☆ The ring is engraved with a quote from your writing. Not hers. Yours. "You make knowledge feel like coming home."

☆ She asks your opinion on “proposals in literature” a week before. You think she’s researching. She’s just trying not to cry at the idea of you saying yes.

☆ When you say yes, she buries her face in your neck and shakes. Not from nerves. From relief. From awe. From the raw ache of being loved back.

☆ She starts referring to you as “my fiancée” constantly. In grocery stores. On campus. During panels. “My fiancée’s theory on this is actually quite relevant…”

☆ She changes your contact name to “Almost My Wife.” With 3 hearts and a lock emoji.

☆ She sleeps with her hand resting over yours every night. On your ring finger. She checks it like it’s her most sacred relic.

☆ She updates her entire academic bio to include you. “Currently lives with her partner, her muse, and greatest intellectual influence.”

☆ She teaches a lecture titled: “The Intersection of Intimacy and Intellectual Devotion” She’s talking about you. The class has no idea.

☆ Ellie wants a tiny wedding—just you, the vows, and a quiet lake. But if you want more, she’ll plan a thousand-guest celebration without blinking. “You say the word and I’ll build the world for you.”

☆ She insists on writing her vows by hand. In her favorite pen. On pages she slips under your pillow the night before.

☆ She practices saying “wife” alone in her car. Wife. Wife. Wife. She can’t stop smiling.

☆ She hides love notes inside the wedding checklist binder. You find one labeled: “Stop reading this and come kiss your future.”

☆ When you choose your dress, she sketches you in it from memory that same night. Adds it to her journal. Dates it. “The day I saw her and forgot how to breathe.”

☆ Her friends throw her a chill night in. But she sneaks off to call you every hour. “I can’t even pretend to want to be anywhere you’re not.”

☆ You write each other letters to read before the ceremony. She cries through hers. Has to reapply mascara. Still keeps the tear-streaked one folded in her breast pocket.

☆ She makes a playlist of songs that remind her of your earliest days. Plays it while getting ready. One track in, she’s sitting down, hand over heart, whispering: “Holy shit. I’m marrying her.”

☆ She starts dreaming of your last name beside hers on academic papers. No hyphen. No division. Just unity.

☆ You give her a watch as a pre-wedding gift. She whispers: “I’ll count every second I get with you.”

☆ When you walk down the aisle, Ellie mouths “mine.” Once. Quiet. Like a prayer.

☆ She cries when you hold her hands. Not one tear. A whole storm. Her lips tremble when you say her name.

☆ Her vows start academic and crumble into desperation. “I thought I understood devotion—until you. You rewrote me. I’m yours now. Completely.”

☆ Her fingers shake when she slips the ring on yours. But her voice never falters: “With this, I give you everything.”

☆ She kisses you like no one is watching. It’s not performative. It’s urgent. She’s been waiting forever.

☆ She refers to you as her wife every chance she gets. Out loud. On paper. In conversation. She beams every time.

☆ She can’t stop touching the ring on your hand. Kisses it. Spins it. Holds it during dinner. “Still feels like a dream.”

☆ She hangs your wedding photo above her desk. Right beside her degrees. “My greatest achievement.”

☆ She uses your wedding date as her new password. She’ll never forget it. She couldn’t.

☆ She journals the first 365 days of your marriage. Every little thing. Every breakfast. Every smile. Every time you say her name like it means everything.

☆ She changes her legal name just to have part of yours. No one expected it. But she wanted it.

☆She introduces herself at lectures as “Dr. Ellie Williams—but more importantly, a wife.” Every time. Her proudest title.

☆ She builds a library with your last name engraved at the entrance. It’s her gift to the university. Her devotion in bricks.

☆ She keeps a framed note that says “You said yes.” Next to the ring box. Beside her bed.

☆ When you fall asleep first, she whispers: “Married you. Won.”

☆ She keeps your wedding vows on her desk at all times. Reads them when she feels lost.

☆ She starts calling you “my forever” in texts. Even to herself. Especially when you're not around.

☆ She wears her ring when she lectures. And if she forgets it? She’ll cancel class. That’s how wrong it feels.

☆ She celebrates every mini-anniversary. First date, first kiss, first “I love you.” “Why wouldn’t we honor our history?”

☆ Her phone background is a photo of your hand in hers. Wedding rings shining. Sunlight catching on your fingers.

☆ She saves every note you leave her, even grocery lists. “Married girl handwriting,” she says with a grin. She signs every card, “your wife, your fool, your scholar.”

☆ When she wins awards, she thanks you before anyone. “For keeping my soul fed while I chase knowledge.”

☆ She keeps your last name on her lips like a spell. Soft. Reverent. Yours.

☆ She reads your vows aloud every year on your anniversary. Her voice always cracks by the second paragraph.

☆ She builds you a bench at the lake where you married. With a plaque that reads: “Where I became hers.”

☆ She keeps your bouquet dried and shadow-boxed in her office. Next to a note: “Every day since has been full bloom.”

☆ She still asks you to dance in the kitchen. Same song. Same rhythm. Same girl.

☆ She rereads the proposal letters every winter. Wears your old hoodie and says: “Still can’t believe.”

☆ And when she’s asked what love is, she says: “It’s when you look at someone and think: If I never wrote again, I’d still have said everything I ever needed—just by choosing her.”

Abby is so hottttttt

I want to kiss her pretty little face after sex with her and telling her that shes pretty and sweet 🥺 and i want her to make me stay in bed even if we have patrol and being all clingy and cute 🥺

#need her

Stay in bed - abby anderson x reader

hi anon! this deadass made me sigh out of singleness... i hope you enjoy:)

Pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

requests are open again! send me your silly thoughts:)

warnings: none

Summary: in which you stayed in bed

masterlist

The early morning sun filtered through the gaps in the blinds, casting golden stripes across Abby's bare back as she lay on her side, one muscled arm tucked under the pillow, the other draped across your waist. You were tangled in the warmth of her, limbs lazy and heavy, breaths slow. The blanket clung to your hips, your skin still humming from last night’s closeness.

You hadn’t meant to stay up so late. Patrol had been long and cold, but Abby had pulled you close the second you got back—no words, just warmth and need. The way she kissed you last night, with a mixture of urgency and tenderness, had left you aching in the best way.

And now, in the quiet hush of dawn, you traced the curve of her shoulder with your fingertips, marveling at how someone so strong could feel so gentle.

“I know you’re awake,” you whispered against her skin, your lips brushing just beneath her ear.

Abby groaned, pulling you tighter into her. “I don’t want to get up. Not if it means leaving this.”

You smiled, heart fluttering. “We have patrol in an hour.”

Her arm curled more securely around you. “Fuck patrol.”

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. “That’s not very responsible of you, Anderson.”

Her head tilted up enough to look at you with sleep-heavy eyes. “What are they gonna do? Fire me?” She smirked, then softened when she saw your flushed cheeks, your thumb grazing her jaw. “You’re too pretty. You make it hard to care about anything else.”

Your breath caught. Abby didn’t always say things like that—not out loud. She was more action than words, more presence than poetry. But when she did speak like this, it was honest, and it hit you deep.

“I want to kiss your pretty little face forever,” you murmured, echoing the sentiment you’d once written anonymously in your journal. You leaned in and did just that—soft kisses at the corner of her mouth, down the curve of her jaw. “You’re so sweet when you’re like this.”

Abby’s hand slid under your shirt—her shirt, really—resting just at your waist. “You’re clingy,” she teased, but her voice was laced with affection. “I like it."

You laughed again, curling up closer, hiding your face in her chest. “You started it. You’re the one who pulled me in the second we walked through the door.”

“That’s different,” she said, kissing the top of your head. “You looked cold.”

“And now?”

“Now you look like mine,” she whispered.

There was a long silence after that. The kind that felt sacred. The kind that didn’t need filling.

Eventually, you felt her shift and sighed as she tried to move. “Nooo, stay.”

Abby chuckled and collapsed back onto the bed with exaggerated drama. “Fine. But just five more minutes.”

“Fifteen,” you bargained, arms locking around her waist.

She kissed your forehead. “Fifteen minutes. Then we do something irresponsible, like skip patrol and make breakfast naked.”

Your laugh turned into a snort. “We’ll get arrested.”

“Worth it,” she muttered sleepily, eyes already drifting closed again.

You stayed there, wrapped up in her, heart full. Maybe the world was still broken in a thousand different ways, but here, in this bed, you had a moment of peace. And Abby. That was enough.

Headcannons: dad's best friend!abby anderson x reader

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☆ Abby is your dad’s closest friend, someone who’s always been around but never really close to you. You were just the kid in the background—until one day, you weren’t.

☆ She saw it change in real time. You grew up. You started speaking with confidence, dressing differently, looking her in the eye. And it scared the hell out of her.

☆ She resisted—tried to ignore the way your laugh lingered in her mind or the way you’d look at her like you knew. But she couldn’t stop noticing you.

☆ The first time it happened, it was a mistake. A late-night conversation on the porch after your dad went to bed. A shared bottle of whiskey. A too-long stare. Your hand brushing hers.

☆ She kissed you. Hard. Desperate. She pulled away like she'd been burned, pacing, swearing under her breath, apologizing.

☆ You told her you wanted it. She told you it couldn’t happen again. It did.

☆ She never stays the night. Never kisses you in the daylight. Never looks at you for too long in public.

☆ You sneak around like it’s life or death. Quick meetups. Locked doors. Lies stacked on lies. Sometimes it makes you sick with adrenaline. Sometimes it makes you cry.

☆ Abby keeps trying to end it—but she always comes back. She’s addicted to you, even if she won’t admit it.

☆ Abby is riddled with guilt. You’re too young. You’re your father's daughter. She’s betraying someone who trusts her with his life. But she wants you—needs you—in a way that’s primal.

☆ She hates herself for it, but you’re the only one who sees her vulnerability. When she’s with you, she lets the walls fall.

☆ You hate the hiding. Hate pretending like she’s just your dad’s friend when she’s the one who’s memorized the way your body moves and how you like your coffee.

☆ She’s older, bigger, more experienced—and sometimes, she uses that. When you’re bratty or push her buttons, she’ll pin you against a wall, palm flat beside your head, whispering, “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

☆ But you’re not powerless. You know how to get to her. How to sit in her lap like it’s innocent. How to call her “Miss Anderson” in a mocking tone just to watch her unravel.

☆ Every moment between you is coiled like a spring—either about to snap into intimacy or explode in a fight.

☆ She hates seeing you with people your age. If you flirt with someone at a party, she corners you in the hallway with fire in her eyes: “You really want to play that game, sweetheart?”

☆ She doesn’t call you hers, but she touches you like you are. Marks you where no one can see. Leaves bruises on your hips and hickeys on your inner thighs like she’s branding you.

☆ When someone else starts showing interest in you, she snaps. Shows up at your apartment. Kisses you like punishment.

☆ Every sound in the hallway makes you freeze when you're together. Every time your dad mentions Abby, your stomach flips.

☆ One close call nearly ends everything—your dad comes home early while she’s still there. You hide in your room, half-dressed, while she plays it cool like she hasn’t just kissed you breathless.

☆ After that, she disappears for days. No calls. No texts. Then she shows up in the middle of the night, eyes red, whispering “I can’t stay away.”

☆ There’s something sacred in the way she holds you in silence. Like you’re the only thing keeping her sane. The way she lets you trace the scars on her back. The way she murmurs your name like a confession.

☆ Sometimes she sneaks into your bed and stays until dawn, just holding you. You wake up to her running her fingers through your hair like she’s memorizing the way you breathe.

☆ She never says "I love you" out loud. But you hear it in the way she says your name. In the way she lingers after kissing you goodbye, her hand hesitating at the doorknob.

☆ The secrecy starts to eat at you. You want her in the open. You want her to fight for you. But she’s scared—scared of destroying your family, of losing everything.

☆ You fight. She pushes you away. You think it’s over. But then she shows up at your door during a storm, soaked, shaking, whispering, “I’d rather burn for this than live without you.”

☆ That night, you realize she loves you—but she doesn’t know how to love you in the light.

☆ There are only two options: get caught… or leave.

☆ Abby starts talking about running away. Not in a romantic way—more like survival. “If he finds out, it’s over for me. For us. I’d lose you both.”

☆ You tell her you’d follow her. She tells you not to say things like that if you don’t mean them.

☆ By day, she’s the picture of loyalty: dependable, trustworthy Abby Anderson—the friend your dad relies on, the one who helps fix the roof and grills on weekends like she’s part of the family.

☆ But by night? She’s slipping into your room when no one’s watching. Holding you like she’s starved. Kissing you like she’s trying to press her soul into your mouth.

☆ She hates the mirror lately. Hates seeing herself knowing what she’s doing. But the only time she doesn’t feel like a monster is when she’s buried in your arms.

☆ She cooks for you in secret. Not well, but she tries—burnt grilled cheese, bland pasta. You eat it anyway, legs wrapped around her hips at the kitchen counter.

☆ She keeps a drawer of your things in her apartment: a sweater, a scrunchie, a book you left behind. She told herself it was just until you took them back—but she likes seeing pieces of you there.

☆ You steal a pair of her dog tags. Wear them under your clothes like a talisman. She notices, and that night, she makes you wear nothing but them.

☆ You have a code phrase—“Are you free to talk?”—that means “I need you. Now.”

☆ You meet in quiet places: her truck parked on the cliffside at night, an old garage your dad doesn’t use, hotel rooms under fake names. Every touch is frantic. Every goodbye, heartbreaking.

☆ After every time, she tells you it’s the last. She never means it. You both pretend like the next time won’t happen, even though it always does.

☆ She hid her jealousy well—until she doesn’t. If someone else touches you, even innocently, she goes cold. Her voice sharpens. Her eyes darken. Later, she drags you into a quiet room and kisses you like she owns you.

“No one else gets to see you like this.”

“You shouldn’t be showing yourself to anyone but me.”

☆ It’s twisted, and it turns you on. But it scares her. She’s never felt this out of control before, and it makes her want to run—or hold on tighter.

☆ After she touches you, there’s always a pause. A moment of silence where she looks at you like she’s doing something unforgivable. Like she’s already lost you.

☆ Sometimes she sits at the edge of the bed, head in her hands. “I shouldn’t want this,” she whispers. “I shouldn’t want you.”

You crawl into her lap, cup her face, and say, “Then don’t make me beg.”

And that’s all it takes—her restraint shatters.

☆ She knows every inch of you—where to touch, where you’re ticklish, what makes you melt. But it’s not just sex. It’s the way her hands tremble when she unzips your hoodie. The way her breath catches when you say her name like a secret.

Her voice drops when she’s turned on. Low, rough, almost pleading.

“You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Tell me you’re mine. Even if it’s just here.”

☆ She can’t be soft in public, so she’s overwhelmingly soft in private. She holds you like a secret she’ll die to keep. Kisses your forehead. Tells you she dreams of a version of the world where this isn’t wrong.

☆ You want more. You start slipping up. Touching her shoulder when your dad’s in the room. Smiling at her too long. She panics when you get bold.

“You’re going to ruin this,” she hisses one day when you almost kiss her goodbye. “Someone will find out.”

“Then let them,” you challenge.

She grabs your wrist. “Don’t ever say that again.”

☆ It starts to hurt—loving someone in the shadows. The secrets eat at you. You wonder if she’ll ever really choose you.

☆ You tell her: “I want a life with you. I want to hold your hand in public. I want people to know you’re mine.”

☆ Abby’s voice breaks. “I want that too. But I want your dad to look me in the eye without seeing betrayal. I want to deserve you first.”

☆ A near-discovery shakes everything. Maybe someone sees you leaving her place at dawn. Maybe your dad borrows her phone and sees your contact.

☆ Abby freaks out. Cuts contact. Says it’s over. You cry. She watches from a distance, agonizing over it.

☆ Then, weeks later—she shows up at your door again. Hands shaking. Heart bare. “I tried. I can’t stop. I need you.”

☆ She finally asks you to leave with her. No more hiding. No more pretending.

“Let’s go somewhere no one knows us. I’ll build us a life. Just say the word.”

When the Quiet Breaks - ellie williams x reader

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

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

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

Summary: Ellie Williams is living a peaceful life on the farmhouse with you—the woman who convinced her not to chase revenge. For a while, things feel almost perfect. But the past never stays buried.

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

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

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

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

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

But nights were harder.

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

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

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

It started slowly—the confusion.

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

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

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

She flinched. “Don’t touch me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were standing in the hallway when it happened.

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

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

But she didn’t hear you.

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

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

You took a step forward—and she lunged.

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

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

The pain was sudden. Hot. Blinding.

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

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

And then… it stopped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There you were.

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

“No,” she breathed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The night dragged on in pieces.

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

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

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

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

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

Ellie didn’t sleep. She didn’t move.

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

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

She stumbled toward the mirror in the bathroom.

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

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

She punched the mirror. It cracked down the center.

Her knuckles split open. She didn’t flinch.

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

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

Now it was a grave.

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

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

And then she screamed.

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

It didn’t bring you back.

Inside the house, everything remained untouched.

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

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

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

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

And the silence… was louder than any scream.

If you were to ever do a part two, to any of your stories which would it be?

ohhhhh I'd probably do a part two of she calls me daddy! Like it does have potential for another part... Maybe Ellie and reader kill her husband and they run away together or maybe Ellie loses her mind and breaks into their house and just watches them live or something else even more messed up:)

See the potential dude...….. But idk if people want something like that tho lmao

can you do hcs of ellie williams taking care of sick reader :)

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬: 𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘹 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

☆- Ellie is a very observant person. It’s actually annoying how well she can read you. She would most likely know you were sick even before you realized you were.

☆- Ellie protects. She serves. She looks after people. She cares. As soon as she finds out you are sick her natural instinct is to provide and to care for you.

☆- Even if it was a small cold Ellie freaks out, she usually acts like you’re on the brink of death:

“Ellie it’s just a cold”

“You could suffocate in your own mucus though”

“No- “

☆- She would show up at your house randomly, sometimes breaking in just make sure you were ok:

“Ellie you were here 3 hours ago”

“Ok so?”

☆- She would cook you something to eat (or attempt to because let’s be honest it doesn’t look like Ellie can cook) and force you to eat it:

“It’s burnt”

“Shut up baby, I know what’s good for you”

☆- She’d run you a bath (daily), give you massages and she would sing to you.

☆- Ellie literally treats you like a baby while you’re sick( she won’t even let you basic things by yourself)

“Ellie I can tuck myself in”               

“Shhhh I know what I’m doing”

☆- Most nights Ellie wouldn’t sleep, she’d stay awake to make sure you were getting a good night’s rest.

☆- Very affectionate (more than she normally is)

“Ellie don’t touch me I’ll get you sick”

“Ellie stop kissing me”

“Ellie go away”

(She can be suffocating at times)

(You can’t even pee alone)

☆- She would most likely cry when you mention any pain you’re feeling, because she hates seeing you in pain, or hearing that you feel anything but happiness.

☆- Is worried that maybe you didn’t have a cold, and that you had something more serious and life threatening

“The medical books say that the headaches could be a brain tumor”

“Ellie what- “

☆- When you eventually get better, Ellie still follows you around, constantly checking if the cold/flu came back.

“Why do you keep touching my forehead?”

“You could be sick”

“Ellie I was sick a week ago, I feel better”

“That’s what a sick person in denial would say”

“I- “

Authors note: Thank you so much for requesting! And to all the other people that are requesting I promise your stories are coming soon! Remember requests are always open feel free to leave one…. Remember you are loved, and to always be kind to everyone:)

Yours truly,

Zia <3

I missed youu, I hope you’re doing well mentally and I’m looking forward to more of your work💗💗

Thank you pookie!! I have a few surprises for yall;))