Bro How Do You Make Friends On Here😪 IM NERVOUS

My legs are shaking and spreading. Raw next question. I have NOTHING appropriate to say. 5 mins and a hair tie. Can we save hex. All 8 fingers. My fingers are tired. Who has my clothes? Both lips smiled. Bedsheet- soaked. To infinity and beyond. A tear rolled down my leg. FLASH US. This made my hole weak, sorry i meant whole week.

PLEAASEPWOAPLEASPELEA

Let The Light In

Abby Anderson x Fem Reader

Summary: Wanting some lovin’ from Abby after a rough day on patrol

Warnings: None basically, just pure fluff. Use of pet names (baby, love). Comfort. Reader cries briefly. Abby and reader are in an established relationship. Mentions of violence/infected. Lmk if I missed any!

A/N: Listen to Let The Light In by Lana Del Rey for the best experience while reading<3

It was a typical day. 

Socialize, go on patrol, worry about scars. At this point, you just wanted to go to your apartment and lie down. As much as this was needed, there were still a few more hours left of patrol around the WLF base. You had been assigned to patrol with Manny and a few others. 

When patrol was over, you raced to your apartment as fast as you could, crashing onto your bed and immediately settling into comfort. Abby still isn't home yet; she probably got stuck on her own assignment. You sigh and roll over, staring out the window—seeing the sunlight spill into the room. 

Summer was about to end—the days were getting shorter and shorter. The sun setting earlier in the upcoming days made you accept that winter would soon be starting. At the sheer mention of the cold, a shiver racks through your body. You shake it off and drag the comforter up to your chin.

The hours had begun to pass by slowly, almost painfully, while waiting for Abby to get back. All you want to do is curl up to her side while listening to her steady breathing. That's all a girl could wish for. 

Continuing to glance out of the window, you hear the door knob click and you sit up quickly. You look over at the door, a grin lighting up on your face, finally seeing that Abby was back. 

“Ugh, baby, finally you're home.” 

You look at her with a playful glare. Pretending to be mad at her, but as your eyes land on her face, all worries wash away from you. She glances at you perched on the bed, a soft smile spreading across her face, “I know love,” she sighs, “Patrol took longer than we thought it would.”

You look down at your hands, fidgeting with your fingers, “I missed you…”

She frowns and walks over to you, resting a hand on your cheek, tilting your head up to look at her. “I missed you too, I'm sorry I was late, but I'm here now.” 

You nod. Looking into her eyes, which seem softer than usual, but you're not complaining. Tearing up slightly, you look away swiftly so Abby can't tell, but she can always tell when something is wrong. 

“Hey… what’s wrong, love?” She frowns more, seeing your eyes well with tears. She's worried but doesn't want to cause you to panic.

“I just missed you today, and there were so many infected around—scars… I—I was worried we wouldn't get out in time.” Your heart races, and you start to feel an anxiety attack coming on. 

Abby holds your jaw in her hands, holding you steady, looking down at you softly but sternly. “It’s okay, baby, you're safe, I’m here, we’re both here.” 

She starts to rub your back lightly, knowing physical touch is what calms you down. 

“I know just what you need right now…” She smiles, with a slight smirk behind it. You look up at her, confused, raising your eyebrow. Abby just laughs faintly, lying you back down gently, lowering herself to lie down on top of you, putting her full weight on you. 

She can feel your heart rate slowing, as the tears stop as well. She reaches up and wipes the remaining tears off your reddened cheek, leaning down to plant a kiss on your forehead. 

This was what you had wanted all day while on patrol. To be in Abby's tight embrace, knowing you were safe and nothing could hurt you anymore. Nothing could ever hurt you here. 

You nuzzle your face into her neck, smelling pine and the faint scent of iron on her skin from dried blood after fighting off infected and scars. 

“Thank you, Abs…” You reach up, skimming your fingers over her shoulders, feeling them relaxed, which was not very often. 

“No need to thank me, you know I’d do anything for you.” You blush at her words, feeling shy under her gaze now. 

“Why do you always know the right things to say?” You smile lightly, looking between her eyes. 

“Because I'm perfect, duh.” She rolls her eyes playfully, flicking her braid over onto her other shoulder.

You shake your head, letting out a choked laugh. Reaching up to squish her cheeks gently. 

“I love you, Abs.” She looks down at you in awe, “I love you, too, doofus.”

Taglist: @valeisaslut @grayandthyme @yokedtablet @aj0elap0l0gist @starzz-l0ver @autisticintr0vert @toofargonetocare @lluxentzz @ellies-real-wife @justanotherabbystan @robinphobia @sophiandrae

I NEED ELLIE WILLIAMS🙏🏻 (that’s it, that’s the post)

s3

It would be so cool and so swag if you did something with popstar!reader going on voice rest

I just wanna see how you spin it :)

-☁️

OH MY GOD popstar!reader on vocal rest is a catastrophic event for literally everyone in your life — but especially for ellie.

the label’s like “seven days. no talking. doctor’s orders.”

suddenly you’re walking around the house with a dry erase board that says things like “ur dumb” or “feed me” or “i want attention ” and ellie is losing her mind because:

1 you keep mouthing things she doesn’t understand just to be annoying; 2 you learned sign language just to flip her off more efficiently AND 3 she cannot hear your voice and it’s making her feral.

and like... let’s be honest. ellie absolutely takes advantage of it. leans in close and murmurs, “what’s that, baby? can’t hear you.” you write “go fuck yourself” on your iPad. she grins. “that’s the plan.”

you try to argue by aggressively waving your hands, and she’s like, “doctor said rest, pretty girl. not mime.”

also: she keeps telling people you’re going mute “for the aesthetic.” she makes up reasons at interviews like:

“she’s protecting her instrument. and punishing me. probably both.”

bonus: the second you’re cleared to speak again, you whisper “you’re so annoying” and ellie melts. like actually drops to her knees.

“Don’t Call Me That (Unless You’re Mad at Me)”

Pairing: Ellie Williams x fem!reader

AU: College AU, established relationship

Length: ~1.7k

You’re sitting on the couch trying to salvage a half-baked group project presentation that’s due tomorrow, staring at a slide that literally says “Capitalism be wild” in bright pink font when Ellie walks in and drops her keys like she wants an audience.

She kicks her shoes off too aggressively and flops onto the couch next to you with the dramatic sigh of someone who just got dumped and evicted in the same day.

“Don’t ask,” she says, already face-down into the cushions.

You don’t. You just glance at her and go back to the war crime that is your shared Google Slides.

She rolls over. “You’re seriously not gonna ask what happened?”

“No,” you say, deadpan. “I assume it’s mildly inconvenient. Like your favorite pen ran out.”

Ellie sits up and blinks at you. “Okay, rude. But kind of accurate.”

You smirk, still not looking at her. “Shocking.”

There’s a pause. Then—

“Ellie, what happened,” you mutter without looking up.

Another pause. Then a sharp inhale.

“You just called me Ellie.”

Your fingers freeze over your trackpad.

“…Yeah?”

“No baby? No babe? No ‘you absolute freak’?”

You look over at her. “I literally just said your name.”

Ellie squints at you like she’s trying to determine if you’re possessed.

“You never call me that unless you’re annoyed with me.”

You blink. “I’m not.”

“Liar.”

You finally set the laptop aside. “I’ve been staring at Comic Sans for forty minutes. If I sound irritated, that’s why.”

Ellie’s already climbing over you like a cat determined to be in your way. She sits sideways in your lap and rests her chin on your shoulder.

“I just think it’s kinda harsh,” she says casually. “Dropping government names like we’re not in love.”

You snort. “You’re so dramatic.”

She shrugs. “I’m sensitive.”

“No, you’re a menace”.

“Menace with standards,” she mumbles, half-buried in your hoodie. “I still expect to be called baby.”

You glance at her, unamused. “You’re getting nothing until I make it through this slideshow without ripping my hair out.”

Ellie groans. “Wow. So this is how it ends. Cold shoulder over Google Slides.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You watch one psychology TikTok and now you think you’re a licensed therapist.”

“Maybe I am.”

“Okay, Dr. Williams.”

“I like the sound of that,” she says, sitting up straighter. “Say it again.”

“Only if you stop talking.”

She squints. “You’re being so cold to me today. Is this about the last slice of pizza last night? Because I genuinely didn’t know you wanted it.”

“I didn’t. But now I do, retroactively.”

Ellie looks offended. “You can’t just claim food in hindsight.”

“You can if you’re petty.”

Ellie huffs but doesn’t move from your lap. Instead, she hooks her arms around your neck.

“I liked it better when you called me gross pet names in front of your friends.”

“You mean when I said ‘hey loser, come here’ and you acted like I gave you an engagement ring?”

“Exactly.”

You laugh softly and tilt your head forward until your forehead bumps hers. She smiles, eyes closing, her whole body softening against you like it always does when you’re quiet like this.

“You’re so annoying,” you say gently.

“Say it nicer,” she murmurs.

You lean in and kiss her cheek. “You’re my favourite headache.”

She opens one eye. “Still not ‘baby,’ but I’ll allow it.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re really gonna act like this over a nickname?”

“Yes,” she says immediately.

You tilt your head. “What if I started calling you something worse? Like El.”

She physically recoils. “Don’t you dare.”

“El.”

“I swear to god—”

You grin. “E-dawg.”

“Stop.”

You’re laughing now, and she’s pretending to be offended but already smiling, already giving herself away.

You shift slightly, readjusting your laptop and giving her a half-hearted pat on the thigh. “If you get up and make popcorn, I’ll call you baby.”

She considers this like it’s a high-stakes negotiation.

“Movie night?”

“Yeah.”

“Your pick or mine?”

You pretend to think. “Yours. But nothing that’s, like, sad for no reason.”

“Fine,” she says. “But if I see one more Google Slide with neon fonts and drop shadows, I’m unplugging the router.”

“Deal.”

She finally gets off you and heads toward the kitchen, mumbling something about kettle corn.

You reopen your laptop, adjust the disaster of a slide, and call out casually, “Thanks, baby.”

There’s a pause, then—

“I forgive you!” she yells from the kitchen.

Of course she does.

I love when women

people who don't experience hyperfixation don't know what it feels like to hyperfixate so much on something that it becomes not only your subject of obsession but also your source of happiness and literally the main reason why you still keep going; literal source of strength and life.

shoutout to my favorite fictional characters, favorite people, favorite ships, favorite movies, favorite tv shows, fanfics and archive of our own