Honestly Theres Always Been Something Really Wrong With Me But Whatever

ahhh tysm for 100 followers 🥹🥹

https://x.com/sapphicult/status/1894898474019102852?s=46&t=J7S6-MikNa1SpbCsaGaZSQ

there’s a special place in heaven for you

u said u wanted requests for blurbs so ermmm

how about reader comforting ellie after she's had a shitty/stressful day? like cuddling, kissing, massages, etc. all that fluffy stuff? (modern au or just tlou universe in jackson is fine)

heyyy thank you for this sweet request! i wrote it to be vague, so it can be taken as being part of any universe <3

*･゜ﾟ･* pairing: ellie x reader

*･゜ﾟ･* content: sfw, mention of weed. pure fluff

*･゜ﾟ･* length: 0.8k

passing the threshold of the door, your gaze falls on an empty room. that was unusual; normally, your girlfriend was always there to greet you. she’d plant a kiss on you before you had time to compute, peppered smooches along your cheek as she questioned how your day had been.

you shuck your jacket and shoes off, dropping your bag to one side and allowing the door to gently shut behind you. you take a few steps forward, calling out a soft, “hello?”

“hey,” comes your unenthusiastic reply, ellie’s voice muffled through the bathroom door. “sorry. won’t be long.”

your heart falls a little at her tone of voice, a pang of worry in your stomach. still, you try your best to not let it eat at you, flipping a movie from her DVD collection on and settling yourself atop the bed.

ellie emerges a few long moments later, dressed comfortably, choppy strands of hair falling damp around her face. she sniffs before plopping down at the side of you, rubbing at her eye.

knowing something’s not quite right, you sidle up slowly, placing a kiss on her clothed shoulder before resting your chin there. upon examining her profile, she looks exhausted; face drained of color, heavy purple setting in underneath her eyes.

“you okay?” you ask gingerly, arm wrapping around hers.

she turns to meet your eyes, offering a slow blink and half-hearted nod in response. you know her, and you know that means, ‘no, but i don’t really want to talk about it.’

so, you readjust yourself, outstretch an arm as you gesture your head. she nods again, letting out a breath as she sinks down onto your chest. you were always like that — communicating without words. they weren’t necessary all of the time. she knew what you needed, you knew what she needed.

your legs part, allowing ellie to properly make herself comfortable. the top half of her drapes over you, your hand automatically snaking down the back of her hoodie. she lets out a tiny, content hum as your fingertips smooth over her skin, nails catching soothingly.

“you shouldn’t sleep with wet hair,” you tease gently, free hand picking up a tendril and rolling it between a thumb and forefinger. “you’ll get a cold.”

ellie lets out a light grunt, looking up at an angle. “nu-uh. that’s an old wive’s tale.”

you pull a face. “must have come from somewhere.”

“somewhere stupid,” she murmurs, wrapping her arm further around you and burying the bottom half of her face into your sweater. you chuckle, moving your hand from her hair to stroke at her temple.

a quiet beat passes, your girlfriend’s eyes falling shut at the languid movement, before you carefully break it. you didn’t want to push her, but it was eating at you. “you sure you’re alright?”

she draws out another breath, shuffling slightly. “mm-hmm. just… had a really shitty day.”

humming sympathetically, you shift your hand from her face, giving her cheek a final brush on the way out. her brow furrows a little at the loss of contact, puppy eyes half-opening to question it until you move lower. your fingers find the hem of her hoodie, tugging it upwards alongside the t-shirt underneath.

“trying to get me while i’m sad, huh?” she smirks, tired eyes lacking their usual spark.

you tut, eyes rolling fondly. “trying to get at your back, idiot.”

“you’ll try anything,” she jokes quietly, sitting up a little and half-undressing herself before returning to her original position. your fingers easily find the smooth expanse of skin, ellie fidgeting as she recalls how she was laid.

you stay like that in comfortable silence, allowing both of your breathings to slow as you caress and scratch over her back. the movie falls thoroughly forgotten, your concentration on the way ellie’s heart beats steadily into your body, the way she twitches when you prod gently at a sore spot between her shoulder blades.

“love you.” you didn’t particularly mean to say it out loud, but you were thinking it compulsively. you always did.

she squeezes you a little in response, lifting her head up and pecking the side of your mouth. “love you the most.”

your eyes meet hers, holding the contact. she’d always had a way of looking at you, even when you first met. she looked at you like she saw you, was taking in every detail she could. maybe somehow knew things about you even you didn’t yet.

you lean in, capturing her lips properly. it’s gentle, languid — comfortable as your mouths move against one another, her hand coming up to rest at your jaw.

giving her a final peck before pulling back, you rest your forehead on hers. you run a hand through the side of her hair, voice quiet with an amused smile. “wanna get high and make out for, like… several hours?”

she perks up at that.

ellie pic drop of the day. less hauntingly sexy than last time but still. ellie. credit please!

SUCKER — PROLOGUE, something new

gorgeous fanart by @nramv , edited by me

↫ masterlist next ↬

info: rain appears to be the centre of your new life, as well as your newest enemy. you try to adapt to the cold town of jackson while simultaneously remeeting what seems to be every person in town, bracing yourself for the first day of school. MOODBOARD + PLAYLIST

cw: reader smokes and she's 17 (soon to be 18) so underage, set in the 2000's!

wc: 3.5k

note: oh goody im excited, as you can tell its based on twilight. thank you to my friend E for proofreading!

as soon as you get into your dad’s car, the first thing it starts to do is rain. pour rain. the sunny weather suddenly vanishing before your eyes, and all hope you had of this place being slightly like your old home disappears in an instant. jackson. a small town in the state of wyoming, always cloudy, always raining. population: 3,120 people. you haven’t visited since you were 13. no matter how much the gloominess would obviously appeal to you, your mother kept you close, leaving your father to his own as the police chief. trees fly beside you as you stare outside, arm propped up on the side of his work car, paying close attention to the droplets falling on the glass window.

you both don't speak. you had already done the pleasantries, nice to see you, you’ve grown up so much, blah blah blah. it’s clear he has more to say, but you really don’t. you’re only here to make your mom happy, without you. over the years you've made the accidental habit of raising your mother instead of your mother raising you, so in a way you’re thankful for the change of scenery.

you remember the days with your dad when you were younger, how gentle he was with you and how much he cared, and although he’s trying his hardest not to show it, you can see how he holds just as much love for you as he did then, regardless of the 12 years that have passed. the rain pats gently all around you, and you close your eyes to soak it in. something new is what you’ve been needing. what you’ve been craving. you can't fully blame your mother for wanting to soak in the feeling of her new marriage, and to have complete freedom. she’s not the only reason you moved, anyways. things weren’t working out for you back there. you had no purpose, you didn't know what you were doing or what job you wanted to go into. simply making it day by day alongside your best friend.

the car jolts to a stop, pulling you out of your train of thought and forcing you to face your new home. it’s not raining anymore, and the house is the same as you remember it. two stories, painted white with a dusty brown roof, detailing wherever it can go. your dad is already out of the car, opening the boot and hauling out your luggage. bracing yourself and rolling your sleeves as far up your palms as they can go, you open the door. cool air hitting you instantly, the slippery pavement almost making you collapse on yourself.

“you good, bear?”

bear. oh god how you’ve missed your dad. you cant believe you almost forgot that nickname.

letting out a shaky exhale, you answer “yeah, sorry just slipped a little.”

he’s beside you in an instant, your luggage taking up both of his hands.

“oh here let me help you-”

“no, no im fine. i’m not that old yet,” he jokes, turning towards you for a minute and offering a soft smile in which you return “well, welcome to your new home.” he makes the first move to go inside, and you quickly reach for your purse still sitting in the passenger seat of his car; grabbing it quickly before closing the door and following after him. trying your absolute hardest to not fall and die on the driveway.

you both walk in silence, the house smelling as it always has. woody, rainy, and fresh. the tiles look as if they have been freshly polished, and the downstairs feels much less roomy than you remember. he guides you upstairs into the same room you remember spending countless nights in as a child, not giving you much time to process the downstairs. you make a mental note to explore more later. he drops your luggage to the side while you continue analysing it. its pretty open, direct space in front of you and a small hallway-like area off to the side, your closest on the wall opposite there. the bed resting in front of you against the wall is new, he changed the bedsheets, the pink florals have been replaced with a dusty purple floral design. there are matching pillowcases as well as a swan pillow perfectly placed in front of it, a darker shade of purple belonging to the sheets peeking out from underneath the duvet.

the rest of the room has also seemingly been revamped. there are fairy lights all around the ceiling, adding some nice warmth to the room. the shelves that rest on your wall in front of your bed next to the window have been emptied, and the window seat right beside, almost like an extension of your bed, has the same purple theme going, a fluffy throw blanket messily thrown in place, alongside some simple decorative pillows, lace curtains adding some simplicity. you already know you’ll be spending most of your time there.

next is the desk, right in front of your bed, just before the room extends. a lace tablecloth matching the curtains and acting as a shield to the wood. there’s what seems to be a fairly recent laptop model and some books adorning it, a mirror hanging right above it, alongside some storage underneath it. the chair seems comfy, just a simple wooden one, matching the desk. you assume he left the room mostly empty to incorporate as much of your old life as possible, but part of you wishes you didn't have to carry anything here. that you could leave no trail of your past here, but you appreciate the thought he’s given you nonetheless, and how he’s seemingly overly aware you’re no longer a child.

the last thing you investigate is the extension, there's a full length mirror at the end, but for the most part the extra room is mostly empty. there’s a bulletin board beside the mirror, and an extra wooden dresser to the side. just for safety, even though your clothes will probably take up less than half of the closet.

“wow… you really went all out.” you compliment, although it seems to raise slight alarm in him.

“sorry if it’s too much, i just wanted to let you take control. but also not have your old childish things…” he drones on for a little, but you’re too busy admiring your room. you feel better about the move already, aware that your dad will give you the space you need, while also actively caring for you and ensuring you’re safe. pros of living with the chief of police: you’re pretty much guaranteed safety. cons: you can’t be as open to him about bad habits as you would like.

you interrupt him before he spirals more, “it’s perfect, dad. purple’s cool. thank you.” you softly smile at him, throwing your purse onto your bed while starting to visually plan what you could add. the bedside table in front of you looks like it could use some decoration, and you’re already planning on going out into town to collect some small bits and pieces you might be able to use.

you flop down on your bed, just avoiding your purse, front facing the ceiling. the weight of the day slowly being lifted off of you while the exhaustion takes over.

“well, uh, i guess i’ll leave you to it.” your dad stands in the center of the room, hands on his hips as his bulky uniform makes his shadow appear unusually large. “the anderson’s will be here soon. any minute now, knowing them.”

“the andersons?” the name sounds so familiar, yet you’re finding it difficult to put a name to the face. sitting up to look at your dad on your elbows, legs hanging off the surprisingly comfortable bed.

“er yeah. abby and owen. they’re bringing you a present. well, a gift from me,” he clicks his tongue, contemplating what to say next, scared that he’ll spoil the surprise “you know what, you’ll see.” and he leaves it at that, going to exit your room as you lay back down on your bed, trying your hardest to remember who the fuck abby and owen are. but just like clockwork, the doorbell rings, and hearty chuckles can be heard from just below your window.

you sigh, and your dad chuckles to himself. his back facing you as he makes his way out of your room, footsteps booming down the stairs. you sit there for a moment, still racking your brain for who exactly the anderson’s are. as far as you’re concerned, they haven’t been mentioned until now. deciding the better way to solve this mystery is to actually see and talk to them, you groan before begrudgingly getting out of bed. jeans rustling against the sheets as your black chucks follow after your dad down to the front door, just below your bedroom, and right in front of your window. by the time you make it down, he’s only just opening the door to greet them. the warmth leaves your body as the cold air blows in, and although you’re technically wearing layers, it does little to help.

rushing to the door and practically stumbling over your feet while doing so, you come face to face with two people who’s memories instantly rush to mind. those anderson’s.

“nice to see you finally join us,” owen jokes, making eye contact with you, abandoning whatever conversation he had been having with your dad moments before. abigail stands to his side, fuck, she looks nothing like you remember. she looks hot. you check her out, shamelessly at that. you know she can see you, and you swear her lips have curved up into a slight smirk.

you laugh at owen, mustering up the last of your energy to figure out what to say next, “you know me. it's nice to see you guys, it's been too long.” you leave the doorstep, moving outside to the pavement, once again overly aware of how you’re moving, really trying to not slip and embarrass yourself. reaching to hug owen who reciprocates instantly, he smells like citrus somehow. you let go of the hug first, giving a smile and turning your attention to abby, a stupid smirk still plastered on her face. she's wearing a tight fitting white long sleeve and cargo pants. how she is warm is something you don't think you’ll be able to solve. she opens her arms for a hug and you reach for her, being engulfed instantly. she smells like oil, and amber. an oddly comforting mix.

“nice to see you,” she whispers.

you stay lost in the moment for only a second longer before responding, “you too.”

it's not a whisper, but still barley spoken, and you force yourself to be free from her grasp. you haven’t seen her in years, and you’re not sure why you expected her to still look like how she did when you were practically babies.

“so, how have things been?”

owen and your dad are lost in their own conversation, so you take it upon yourself to continue talking to abby.

“eh, same as always. i started fixing up cars and stuff, working out as you seemingly have already noticed.”

your cheeks flush red, so she did notice. “don’t flatter yourself, abigail. it’s been awhile, i’m just surprised to see you is all.” you defend, crossing your arms over your chest.

she laughs, throwing her hands up in defense. “how about you?”

you don't even hesitate to answer, “it's just weird being back here. i have not visited since the last time i saw you when we were what? 12?”

she thinks for a moment, most likely doing the maths in her head. “13, actually. how weird is that?”

“so weird,” you laugh, and she joins in alongside you.

as it dies down, she desperately makes an attempt to keep talking to you “what school you going to?”

“jackson, unfortunately. oh god, please tell me you are as well. it would be so good to already have a friend there!” you plead

she sighs and shakes her head, putting a hand on her hip. “sorry princess, i'm down on the firefly side. and before you get angry, i drove an hour out here.”

you frown at her, eyebrows furrowing. how the hell were you gonna make it through your first day now? you decide not to dwell on it too long, you would cope with that tomorrow when the issue presented itself.

analysing your surroundings, you notice a truck sitting right behind abby. it was pretty old, but you honestly found it pretty. a navy blue, rusty truck. abby follows your eyes, smiling.

“hey uh, i think the princess has spotted something important.”

she gains the attention of both owen and your dad.

“oh my goodness of course how could i forget,” your dad scolds himself as owen snickers to himself off to the side, “uh, i know it’s not exactly much, bear, but this is my house warming gift to you. i've already paid for it from this fool, and i wanted you to have your own way to get to school and wherever else you wanna go, really. so…”

your smile widens significantly, tucking your hands into your back pockets. “thank you so much dad. i love it.”

“and credit to me for fixing it all up, thank you very much,” abby chimes in, and you giggle at her bluntness.

“i cannot thank you guys enough,” you express, looking around at the people before you.

“it’s just something to get you started, but you must be tired,” the blonde in front concludes, reading you as perfectly as she did six years ago, you smile at her with gratitude.

“oh of course! you've had a full day of travelling and you have to get up pretty early tomorrow. we’ll leave you to it, it was nice to see you. make sure to get lots of rest tonight.” owen wraps up, releasing you from social interaction.

abby tosses you the keys, you catching them effortlessly.

“of course, and i’ll come visit you guys as soon as possible. get home safe!” you add on.

your dad says his own goodbyes as the two pile into owens car, abby in the drivers seat. they wave you goodbye as they leave, and you really do plan on seeing them as soon as you can.

you hadn’t even noticed the night settling over you as you and your dad make your way back into the house.

“you want some dinner, bear? i made some pasta before.”

as terrible as you feel turning down his offer, the only thing you really feel like doing is freshening up and going to bed.

“sorry dad, i’m pretty dead. i’ll snag some to have for breakfast tho!” you promise, making your way up the stairs while he lingers down in the living room, going to turn on the tv.

having a quick shower and changing into your pajamas (that only consisted of a tank top and underwear), you called down a quick goodnight to your dad and shut your door, sighing. you had barely done anything today, yet felt more tired than you had in months.

but you had a routine, and that routine got you to where you were now. jumper thrown on while you crawled over your bed to your windowsill seat, lighter and cigarette in hand. although your room is warm thanks to a heater, you’re taking safety measures in advance and preparing yourself for the cold air that will breeze through. you open the curtains, then the blinds, and finally the window. you sit back comfortably, back laid against the wall beside the window while your legs are stretched across, you lean into the open window and flick your lighter alive, it being the only light source other than the small glow of street lights and the warm fairy lights around you. holding the cigarette to your lips, you light it gently, the flame catching instantly.

you inhale the smoke, sighing in relief at the alleviation it was already starting to grant. placing the lighter back into your bag, you remove the cigarette from your lips for a moment, exhaling the smoke and admiring the woods that lay directly opposite to you, before your truck catches your eye again. no matter how old it is, you’re just glad you have something to get you from place to place. you didn't have that back in seattle. taking another puff, you sit there and soak in the first night. grabbing your phone to reply to your moms messages that had been coming in non stop since before your plane even took off. answering all of them in a haste. yes i landed safely. yes, dad is nice. i got a car. my school is sorted, i already told you a month ago i start the day after i arrive. i'm good. how are things with him? goodnight.

you sit there for the next 20 minutes or so, playing snake on your razr phone. you occasionally dust the ash off out the window and make a mental note to buy an ashtray, something you had somehow forgotten to bring along with you, before calling it a night. the clock reading 10 pm, your outfit for your first day already resting on your desk chair. shoulder bag right beside it, you were prepared enough. cigarette stashed in the side pocket, just in case. but you had to be careful with your use, you only had a pack left and you weren’t sure where you would be able to buy more, if you would be able to at all.

falling into a deep slumber, you’re awake and preparing for school before you know it. you haven't had the opportunity to unpack yet, so you’re frantically running around your room trying to find the pair to your earring, and trying to figure out how your concealer has suddenly gone missing, and you really thought you had prepared enough the night before.

grunting in frustration you decide to just leave as is, transferring your shitty spare concealer you held in your purse to your bag as well as your small jewelry box, you would deal with it when you got there. your outfit and hair were simple, opting for a v neck long sleeve layered with a blouse and skinny jeans, and an extra jacket looped around your arm with spare fuzzy gloves in your bag.

you can't stop for breakfast, calling out to your dad a thank you! in which he just looks up from his newspaper in shock, before shaking his head and looking back down, unbothered at your antics. you make a beeline for your truck, phone and keys in hand, then you slip.

too focused on getting to the car, you forget that jackson's pavement actually ices over. causing you to land flat on your ass. you whine instinctively, sitting up and rubbing your butt, feeling as it's now wet and you have no time to change. exactly what you needed. you don't let it stop you any longer as you rancorously unlock and enter your vehicle, tossing your backpack in the passenger seat beside you. do you have any idea where you’re going? no. does it stop you from pulling out of the driveway and hoping for the best anyways? no. you’re just hoping you’ll spot another teen driving to jackson highschool soon enough and be able to follow them.

to your luck, you actually do make it to school relatively on time, thanks to that random kid that was probably fearing for their life thanks to your following. you take the spare minute you have to sit in your truck and mentally prepare yourself. you got a decent parking spot and rush to yank the concealer out of your bag, methodically applying it with the trucks rear view mirror, not bothering to return it to your bag when it's done, grabbing your jewelry box and selecting a few rings and finally finding your other earring, applying all of them on, putting the box back next to your concealer. untucking the necklace you always wore out from your undershirt. after deciding you look presentable, you do the hardest part, leaving your truck, thankfully not slipping this time.

everyone’s eyes are on you immediately, people whispering to each other. your arrival somehow already being anticipated. you keep your head down, trying your best to not focus on all the eyes following your every move, navigating through the crowd and up the stairs to the entry, before somebody enthusiastically rushes up beside you.

“hi! i’m cat, you must be the new girl. i’ve been assigned to show you around.”

“hey, it’s nice to meet you.”

you cautiously introduce yourself as enthusiastically as you can, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. you have no idea where you’re going, and cat can most likely tell from your facial expression.

“here,” she titters, “i’ll bring you to the office. my friends, well, your friends too now if you wanna sit with us, are just down the hall. we’ll meet up with them after!”

cats' confidence and welcoming comforts you beyond words, and the day doesn't feel so bleak anymore. hopefully, it’ll stay like that.

next.

★ cupid carries a gun.

open up your skull, i'll be there climbing up the walls.

cw # 18+ mdni, modern au, mentions of marijuana, dealer+loser!ellie, blink and you miss a slight pervert behavior, sub!reader, switch!slightdom ellie, pussyslapsyum, pet names, fingering, public sex.

an # if you recognize this it may be because it's from my previous account aka @vicorices who got deleted out of nowhere, this is me trying to get all my work back up again cause i'm not losing three months of work thanks to a shitty team who wiped me out of the internet.

the first time she saw you, she called you bro by accident.

it happens unexpected. ellie's been selling weed for a while now and she's used to get random text messages from unknown numbers: a friend of a friend, a recommendation from some old client — of course when she got your text you're not going to receive special treatment, not when she greets you like she would greet a guy, asking you where to meet since the club's big.

you're friends with cat, that's how you got her number. your usual provider is being insane with ridiculous prices you cannot afford not even by chance, so you're searching for someone else, a reliable source you can buy your weed from without getting into much trouble.

she’s perfect for the job.

it's a surprise either way when you tell her to meet you close to the main stairs in the first floor, and you think you saw her by the time you get there, but before you can approach your phone lights up with a new notification from an unknown number you now recognize.

you like it, making them think you’re a man, confuse the people you buy weed from. it's funny cause it's not the first time it happens, matter of fact, it's really common as you approach the auburn haired girl, noticing she's far less intimidating than your last seller, less tattoos on the face to instead, be covered in freckles and green eyes.

and to ellie — it's clear you aren't a bro too.

you don't pay much attention since it's a quick interaction, but to ellie its enough to make her spiral. too much weed, too much booze that night made her look at you like you're most beautiful girl out there, barely illuminated by the sporadic lights that changes time to time as you approach to her in a nice top of a band she also hears.

"hey. sorry to make you wait" you're too kind to her rough heart, yet from up close she's able to look at your face properly: where the fuck did you know cat from? why she hadn't seen you before too? was she hiding you from her?

"ellie," she presents herself like you do and she's almost a little shy to ask you to walk with her to a less crowded space, cause it sounds different from when she usually asks, slapping herself mentally for being so lame when she meets a pretty girl in a situation like this: don't be a fucking pussy. "do you mind if we move to a quieter place?"

"no, no problem" you reply "i was going to ask you the same, actually. don't want to get kicked out from here."

and you must be really trustful person, cause ellie could be a bad person and you're following her willingly, entering a dirty, small bathroom only to lock the door beneath her not really knowing her true intentions. you know she's not going to do anything when she's nervously speaking to you as the space got way reduced.

"so, you're friends with cat" what's she even doing? trying to pull off some small talk she sucks for? either way your nodding as ellie gives you a small bag with an smiley face on it, letting you see the weed she's going to sell you out first — "you study here in this university?"

"yeah, it’s my last year" you say inspecting the weed with a pleased look, sure you're buying when you take a deep breath and it seems like actual weed and not a fucking rock so tight it seems it came in somebody's ass, good smell, some purple there between different shades of green "film school."

"sick," she looks at you for a moment since you're too busy looking at the product. under the white lights ellie can see the details on your face now, the small moles, the scars, things she wasn't aware of as she wasn't so close as she is now — "it's okay? you like it?"

“smells real good, my last supplier was pretty shit and always had the same strain" you find her concern cute, sure she must take pride in selling good stuff, maybe that's why cat shared her number so reluctant to it, you'd gatekeep a good dealer too.

“that’s lemon haze” ellie explains as a subtle layer of red spreads right over her nose, must be the weather inside the bathroom or something like that, but it's hot as she stares at your eyes and she's betting you must be thinking she's the weirdest girl in the planet. her flannel's too fucking tight, too thick. "it's a nice sativa, wont leave you stupid nor like a hungry animal."

girls like you may be out of her league, but even when ellie's brain saying the same, it does not matter when your fingers brush against hers and you're laughing at her bad joke, giggling like she's oh so funny and it's enough. it may be a tactic she's falling all the way in when saying a lower price than regular and your eyes widen cause you don't believe it: why would such a good quality be cheaper than the usual shit?

"you study in this university too?" you curiously ask as if you're trying to catch the trick, clever girl. she’s selling you cheaper to secure you.

"forensic science" you seemed a bit surprised by it since you didn't talk much to stem girls in general, being in two different fields: hot— "it’s my last year too."

"that sounds cool, never met someone who study that," you say as you're pulling out 20$ for at least 3 grams of top-graded-weed: she's fucking stupid for selling that quality for less than $30 "well nice to meet you ellie, if i don't get poisoned with your weed, you'll be definitely hearing more from me."

and she wants to say something flirty, something with her usual witty charm and her sarcastic replies she loves by heart, but instead of saying something clever, ellie ends up stuttering, tripping in her own words as she nods.

"i- uh- yes sure. save my contact and text me anytime."

fuck it, cause it does get her to know you'll be talking to her again someday, maybe this week, maybe the next, tomorrow. her weed is hella good and her own brain is feeding her delusions cause as far as she knows you might as well be the biggest heterosexual girl in university, but you're there waving her goodbye with a warm smile and your perfume lingers in the air for a while even when you're not there.

so ellie stays in the cubicle for a minute. the longest minute of her life when she takes a deep breath at the scent, discovering the fruity notes, the damn strawberries sweet as ever now impregnated under her nose.

fucking cat cause she must have kept you all to herself, pure selfish reasons — ellie thought they were in good terms.

it's crazy to say she would've done the same if you were her friend too.

the second time ellie sells you weed you're talking with your friends seated in a secluded spot of the main quad and the sun hits your skin just in the correct way to make her mouth go dry.

you're using this straight sinful sundress in blue and white, covering from the fresh air in a denim jacket and it looks so good she needs to check you actually messaged her in the first place and didn't imagined the whole thing.

she politely greets everyone but her attention drifts back to you when ellie's sitting close like you're friends with her before the people you’re hanging out with.

"was it good?" she asks, blatantly checking you out you're resting over your elbows, letting the exposed parts of your body fill out with vitamin d after being trapped in class for what it seems an eternity, and ellie feels trapped too, slightly different cause she's experiencing the victorian era on the flesh when only a glimpse of your ankles is enough to kill her — "guess it was if you're texting to meet up again."

"yeah, seems like you got the best weed in the whole place" you laugh, each time warming up to her as you reply under a pair of black shades that make you look so fucking attractive: her weed, the best. "good job, ellie."

awfully good price. outstanding for you, only loses for her.

the third time, you're meeting her outside class and her friends joke calling you her girlfriend as ellie quickly walks away hoping you didn't hear them: do you talk to her about dinosaurs too, williams? you're too polite to say you find it cute.

by the fifth time you're on her car and the silence is so damn loud as the music sound softly in the speakers, some song you say you like as ellie turns up the volume so you can hear it better. you're humming to the tune, a two-minute song as she pretends to be searching for the weed on her bag, taking more time on purpose.

"are you going to take the same three grams or you feel generous this time?"

"no, just three" you reply to her question. you've become quite aware of her consistent gaze on you now after weeks of selling you grass, personally giving you the best, making the moment linger without you noticing until you actually do catch on her subtle tactics— "that way i can text sooner and see you again this week."

ellie’s clueless most of the days but with that? anyone would notice you're flirting, blatantly as you look up to her and your dealer struggles to resist the need on her hands to pin you against the passenger seat and lean all over the console to go on and kiss you until you clearly state what you want. no playing around the bushes this time. demand, as her stomach turns, what do you mean by that.

do you want to see her more? that's why you buy three grams and talk to her every three or four days? are you, by any chance, not straight?

“if you want to see me during the week, you might just ask” ellie says mirroring your tone “like you ask to buy weed from me, s’not that hard.”

you’re the one who's nervous now, and she considers on giving you the weed as a gift before you’re paying. loses, you only mean loses in her economy at this point — and it's driving her hella mad when you get out the car and ellie’s left there with the need to have you as closer as you possibly agree to.

silk fabric slipping through her fingers.

the sixth time, ellie decides she's going to do something about it. about her needs. there’s no actual way you’re not flirting with her, the image of you in the passenger seat still sealed freshly on her mind even if it was a week ago, repeating it over and over again — you got her staring at your profile pic, debating if she can or cannot masturbate with the pictures you’ve shared on instagram from spring break in fucking california, liking your post cause it’s the only way she dares to interact, a way of saying she’s there.

in the middle of a saturday night, thinking about you. two in the morning and it’s all fucking you.

she should make up her mind. you’re a good buyer, and she wishes to keep it that way. you don’t ask for later payments, you constantly buy and don't share her number with weirdo friends like everyone else does, you're a reliable source surely: so why does her heart stops in her chest cavity when her phone's buzzing and ellie's reading the name she saved your contact with?

right. her pathetic crush on you.

her fingers move on their own before she considers to delay her response five minutes to seem busy.

she wont charge you double.

shit. it's two in the morning and she's selling you weed driven by the desire to see you again, using this gray hoodie to protects herself from the cold autumn breeze as she's pulling up to this party totally uninvited, passing the open door like it's her own house as zeta phi seems to be fully loaded now as the music sound loud and strident as all her hopes of catching you alone goes to the trash can.

no she’s not going to charge you double, she’s just guilty she’s so into you without you having any idea of it.

where you waiting for her arrival? fuck. her brain is acting up like a backstabbing bitch and ellie cannot help it as you appear radiant under a sea of people. you're not saying a word either when you're lacing your fingers with her's and you're pulling on your dealer upstairs, feet moving on their own as she don't make a single effort to resist your magnet-like influence in her very self.

ellie’s hand are sweaty cause she's so fucking nervous but you don't seem to care about it, looking back at her from over your shoulder only to offer a smile she cannot wrap her head around for a moment.

"can i ask where you're taking me?" she questions you, hoping her voice doesn't sound like that really, so strained and rough from just see you around — "or am i your hostage now?"

"we need a more private space to buy" you state like it's obvious "duh, the rooftop's empty. i stole the key."

ellie should've know you were a walking hazard.

cause it really seems like an achievement when you're opening the rooftop door, mischief grin as you look twice behind your back paranoid as ever someone can see what you're doing; and ellie chuckles at the sudden adventure, how you're closing the door when you invite her to step in with a subtle head movement, quickly shoving the key back to the pocket in your skirt.

cute. she thinks you’re cute.

it's empty like you said, and the knowledge makes every hair on her arms stand on their own even when she's wearing this thick hoodie that protects her from the cold.

"cannot risk my dealer of getting in trouble down there" you explain now that you can talk to her at a decent volume, and she fully eats it even when it's a clear lie and you're making up excuses to get her away from the noise.

"very kind, gonna name you my knight in shinning armor if you keep this up."

you're panting the spot right next to you as you take a seat in the over-used lounge chair with a tiny wooden table in front of it, and like a trained animal, ellie follows cause it's the perfect spot to leave her backpack as her brain keeps buzzing at the name you used to call her seconds before— my dealer.

she is, by all means, your dealer. it makes her chest fill out with a different kind of emotion, sound so fucking intimate, so nice.

"gonna buy the usual three grams, princess?" your knee brushes against her, and ellie's breathing hitches cause you're wearing this black-sheer stockings all the way to your upper thigh and she becomes aware of it when the material slips down as you're seated, skirt raising slightly upwards against the muscles of your legs: one movement and she swears she'd be able to see your underwear and ellie has to once again, remind herself how you quickly reduce her to this behavior; this state, shoved in a sea of pure filth — "or did you just call me because you wanted to see me tonight?"

she's feeling lucky tonight even when she never feels that way, a strike of confidence ellie feels as a rush on the blood: you give her a sight of your legs and now she's all over the damn place? loser behavior.

"is it that obvious?" you want her to kiss you. it's a need that installs deep down in your chest, and if you're not making it obvious by then you're definitely doing it now: you're not straight, you're not bulletproof to the holes her eyes make on your skin every time you have the pleasure to be left alone in her company, you're not giving up on this constant game of seduction you like to play "i'm buying weed too, so coming up here actually matters for you."

"haven't we state that already?" ellie asks, looking up to you as she drinks in the sight of you under the almost invisible light of the stars up in the sky "if you want to see me during the week-"

"might as well just ask" you completed for her as ellie grabs her bag so she can pull your weed from it. the best three grams she has in her power "i know that- thank you."

"it's a gift" she finally dares to say it now — "don't pay me this time."

has she ever felt this way before? never. the overwhelming pull, the reminder you're not her's? stings on ellie's skin like tiny needles. it's not a big deal, once again she's losing money all reckless, but fuck- it's worth it, worth it when ellie see you malfunction for a long moment, brain short-circuiting cause you don't expect it.

"that's not the deal."

"i don't care what our deal is, you're my best client, and i take care of my clients” it’s simple as she says it “sides. the weed does not matter, seeing you was payment already.”

"don't go yet," you add before she's making a movement to get up, hands cold wrapping around her arm as you pull her down to the lounge chair you're so comfortably seated — "smoke with me. let's talk for a while."

and she knows it's dangerous, but you're batting your eyelashes, looking at her with this sly smirk on your face she wants to kiss away and ellie has no option but to stay there buried in your side, your fingers still tight against her arm muscles as you make her stay.

"okay, but i need you to let go of me baby- i can't roll a joint with you all over."

liar.

she just want to see you get all flustered because of her as her fingers swiftly roll a joint without much effort, allowing the smoke to fill the air seconds after before you’re sneezing and she notices how you shiver on her side, turning her face to look back at your pretty face she’s been avoiding to stare so much.

"you cold?" she asks, and you do not want to admit it, but ellie's taking her hoodie off and it's a fucking sight when she's wearing this white tank top she does not care about until she can physically feel the shift of the air between you and her, caught up with your eyes checking her out as she lights up the joint.

"thank you," and for being a stoner, it's smells surprisingly nice as you relish on the warmth of it, comfortable now as you watch her smoke "i'll gave it to you downstairs."

"go home with it. you're going to catch a cold like this."

the silence it's imminent for a moment before she's passing you the joint an you're holding it between your fingers.

"i like your tattoo" is it also an excuse? not really, but ellie's bringing her arm closer to you as she's showing it under the flashlight of her phone cause she likes it too, showoff — "can i touch it?"

any other time she'd be denying it mumbling something stupid about hating random people to go on and touch her scarred arm but you're not a random girl. so she's whispering a barely audibly yes, and your fingertips are tracing the pattern etched on her skin, taking your time in doing so.

"it suits you," you praise as you touch, and she's fucking melting there under simple caresses, under something so simple as your fingers tracing her inked flesh, invisible shapes as you just want to keep your hand on her "did it hurt too much when you got it done?"

"yeah, sort of" it's not really like she's trying to sound cool, in all honest, she's just trying to be coherent now as you keep touching her skin as you smoke. invested in questions she's answering in full auto-pilot.

you're high after a while, and it's her weed that makes you look like that. half lidded, a lazy smile on your lips as you keep talking to her, red eyes, slower than ever: shit. she'd devour you all.

“have you ever shotgunned smoke into someone’s mouth?” you ask curiously, and the question comes out of nowhere as you stare at her blowing the smoke, a warmth creeping upon her neck as she notices the way you’re staring at her, ellie’s blushing.

selling you weed and not be able to get high with you every single time must be named one of the most horrible crimes in humanity.

“when i was like, 17?" ellie replies thinking for a moment "i dunno, thought it was the hottest thing ever- have you?”

“no, not really."

and to be fair, ellie's high too. she's testing a new strain with you and the words roll out of her tongue so easily she has no time to regret it, not when you're looking at her like you want her to get handsy there in a damn lounge chair, to hell if it’s in the middle of nowhere or not.

“want me to do it for you?” she asks, a gentleman as usual “i’ll gladly be the first.”

it takes a moment for you to consider it before your voice is all low and husky — "mhm."

“come here then miss,” ellie says using a finger to call you out, the joint already on her lips before she takes a long drag — “sit on my lap and open your mouth f’me.”

it's devastating.

your weight on top of her, your ass in her leg as she can see again, those transparent sheer stockings that must be damn useless against the cold, and her hand rest on your upper thigh there where she looked before.

you're so obedient. your skirt is a sinful invitation to touch further, and you're parting her mouth for her so she can get closer, and as she smokes, ellie does get closeto you. closer than she’s ever been — more than the car, the bathroom in the party she met you, mere inches before she's shotgunning the smoke in your parted lips and you're smoking from the same weed that was in her lungs.

"17-years-old ellie was right" you reply, not really moving to give her space as ellie's fingers squeeze your leg like a reminder you're there still, sated on your dealer's lap, her hands on you — "it is the hottest thing ever."

it's almost a chronicle of a death foretold, cause ellie's kiss does not surprise you at the slightest. it's demanding and sloppy cause she's high, you're high, and she's a victim of this force she cannot escape near you.

so she keeps on kissing you until your lips are swollen and you're simply there, slowly wanting more, squeezing your legs together cause you don't want to be a slut now — no. you don't want her to know you're soaking over a few kisses, at ellie's fingers pulling on your high stockings down till they are no longer there anymore.

"you're a fucking menace" she says between kisses, breathing heavier now by the seconds: ellie already noticed— "a menace to me, to my weed and my economy, you know that? how you make me sell out my stuff at half the price cause i want you as my secured client?"

despite her words, she's pushing you closer to her so you can feel her rib cage pressed against you, the goosebumps you produce just from being close to her, red lips and messy hair.

"it’s your loss ellie, cause i'd pay for the full price."

"mmhm well shit, you're really lucky cause you do give damn good kisses" she murmurs, fingers toying with the hem of your skirt now and she has the damn audacity to keep on smoking cause she's now confident on her effect, how you’re all affected by her touch — "and if you give damn good kisses, i'm betting all my money that you have an even better pussy for me."

the sounds you're making? fuck. she’s creaming her panties already when you're letting her touch you so freely and it’s not near enough.

"what is it going to be then, huh?" she asks curiously, her mouth already following the path down to your collarbone, your cleavage before she’s taking her time in leaving red-purplish hickeys there hidden beneath her own gray hoodie "should we make it to our seventh selling or you're going to let me play with your needy cunt as a much deserved reward?"

shit. shit. shit. you're so fucking wet when you're parting your legs further apart to give her a nice view of your underwear, a damp spot already there between your legs who’s enough to make her mouth water with the thought of burying her face between your thighs, intoxicate with the smell you're emanating and she feels already under her nose.

good fucking girl. she wants to praise you, let you know you're doing a great job there letting your skirt roll up to your stomach, so easy to get rid of it ellie's sure you did it on purpose now so she can let her hand slip between your legs to feel how soaked you are.

your cunt makes this sound when her finger’s taunting you she just happens to love, and your underwear clings to your pussy lips, hips buckling up to meet her fingers already wanting more.

greedy.

"shh-" she tries to reassure you — "you're comfortable there baby? want you to feel good when i touch you yeah? you'll let me know anything cause you're my well-behaved girl, aren't you? my best client here.”

ellie’s making you shake her head, coaxing you to say out loud you are comfortable there, ass in her lap, spread legs as her fingers push against the fabric right against your entrance, noticing how the cotton soaks at the motion.

"look at you all desperate" she chuckles — "have you been thinking about this a lot like i do?"

her fingers pull on your underwear to the side and there it is: glistening cunt, swollen lips and neglected clit that's just begging to be touched, filled, discovered by her hands, her mouth, tongue. nothing she fucking wants more.

who she is to ever deny anything to you? to stop selling you weed? the joint falls to the ground now as she's using her entire hand to touch you, fingers rubbing against your minor and mayor labia, circling against your engorged clit as you arch your back and she has to use force to keep you still, taking what she has to give like a champ.

"you're fucking soaked-" there's a slap sound that fills the air, and even when there's people in the garden they don't seem to hear your whimpers as her hand comes in contact with your pussy and she's slapping it once again, just enough to apply some pressure in your clit, just enough to make your legs shake "so responsive to me, gonna let me stuff this cunt full tonight? fucking finally huh? you've been haunting me like no one else."

and you giggle, giggle cause you cannot fucking believe it: fucking your dealer? are you so for real right now? you're deep under a cloud of haze you're unable to control, disheveled state when your skirt is all the way to up and your underwear being pulled to the side at her mercy and you can only answer:

"yes- ngh yes please ellie."

"shit- your clit is all puffy baby, all needy for me."

you're squeezing her already so hard when she’s working on you. a wet schlick that fills the air and combined with your incoherent words of praise and moans will send her to the grave.

ellie’s knuckles-deep and fuuuck. you're so tight she needs to ask if you're doing right, cunt engulfing her' fingers until there’s no more and she's curling them right to the spot so you don't care about the drunk fucks in the garden anymore, about anyone who can hear whats going on in an empty rooftop.

ellie’s using a hand to keep your legs spread when your free will collapses like paper cards, pulling them apart only to add a third finger in your used hole and reduce you to pieces now, clenching tight as she rubs on that special spot inside and you're mumbling something about feeling so full, so good with her inside.

"this pussy must be made for me baby, fits me like a fucking glove," ellie’s doubling her efforts, her palm colliding against your clit, fingers thrusting against the right spot over and over — "gonna let me see your pretty face when you cum? i know you're close."

you are. fuck you so are. your movements are erratic, your legs shake, and ellie's kissing on your shoulder, leaving a path of wet kisses on the exposed skin on your neck, biting on your earlobe, anywhere she can get.

"i can't-" you cry out, moving yourself in quick, sharp movements, it’s overwhelming — "fuck i can't hold no more-"

"let go" she replies, holding you tightly against her body — "let go. i got you."

it's hot. messes up ellie's jeans with a damp mark on them, turning the fabric darker when you finally cum and you're gushing on her fingers, leaking through trembling legs.

"fuck yes. drench me like that," your dealer moans, stealing a kiss from your parted lips, keeping the last glimpses of air in your lungs for her benefit "use me, baby, don't stop."

ah. ellie's in trouble after all, cause it don't seem she’ll be selling weed to you now. not when she's mixing business with pleasure and she's making you bend against the top rail of the old lounge chair cause she's not able to wait any longer to lick you clean until you have no other choice but to cum again.

truth be told she once heard cupid's cruel, but she didn't believe it fully, not until now since ellie knows, first hand — the little fucker shoots to kill.

still thinking about ellie's hair but this time about helping her cut it. canon!ellie cuts her own hair. modern!ellie cuts her own hair. every iteration of ellie butchers her own hair this could truly take place in any universe

heading over to her place because you're collecting her to head out, finding her in front of the bathroom mirror in a sports bra, kitchen scissors in hand and shirt thrown somewhere on the floor

just, like, unmethodically chopping bits off

she calls out a 'hey' when she hears you come in, not taking her eyes off what she's doing, pulling one of the foremost strands outstretched then snipping the end off.

"oh, fuck," she says when the piece of hair falls back in place, realizing she's cut way too much off. plus, it's completely uneven.

you scoff at her, coming up behind her and making a show of checking your watch. "is there a reason you've decided to do this now?"

"it was too long. it was pissing me off."

taking her arm, you pivot her around to face you, laughing lightly when you take a proper look. "dude, you've fucked the front up."

"i know, shut up," she whines sheepishly, attempting to turn back towards the mirror, but you stop her.

you examine the pieces, gently swiping them out of her face and trying to get them to sit in a better way. "it's not that bad, it just needs, like... blending?"

"yeah, what do you think i was trying to do?" she replies, words reducing to a short, breathy laugh. a small smile stays on her face as she watches you, eyes flickering over your face while you look at her hair, thinking how to mend it.

"sit down, let me try."

she pulls a little bit of an unsure face, but relents anyway, slowly taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub and handing you the scissors. "i swear to god, if i have to shave my fuckin' head because of you..."

you tut. "can't really make it any worse."

"rude."

"you're rude," you murmur, leaning down and beginning to make some attempt at feathering the choppy strands.

"i'm sweet."

"when you wanna be."

ellie blows air out of her nose and smiles gently in response. your left knee comes up to rest on the edge of the tub, thigh slotting next to her. she automatically shifts her hand onto it, thumb swiping over absent-mindedly as she looks up at you.

it's quiet as you concentrate, brow furrowing subconsciously whilst you try and fix ellie's mess. you didn't really have a clue what you were doing, just trying to make it appear more even without taking too much more off.

anyway, she's content to sit there gazing at you with a tiny, lopsided smile, eyes dripping with adoration as she smooths her fingertips over your thigh.

she breaks the silence halfway through, thinking out loud. "you look good."

you chuckle. when you first met ellie, she was shy around you; but since being together you swiftly figured out once she's out of her shell, she's a shameless flirt. "thank you. so do you."

"want me to eat you out before we go?"

you blow air out of your nose, leaning back to tousle her hair into place. "we're already late."

"i can be quick."

ignoring the way that makes your lower stomach flutter, you move to stand up straight. "did you do the back?"

"yeah, i think it's fine, though," she replies, feeling at the back of her hair.

"c'mere, let me check." you offer a hand to pull her up, and she turns away from you, allowing you to inspect her job. she's right, it looks fine; which makes you wonder how the hell she'd managed to mess up the part she could see, and not the part she was doing blindly.

you prod her in the back, feeling the way she jolts slightly. "you're good to go. that'll be a million dollars."

"ha-ha," she replies, pivoting around to look at herself in the mirror. she leans in, running a hand through the strands. "oh, yeah, it looks way better. thanks, babe."

"welcome." you lean past her to set the scissors down on the sink, pressing a small kiss to her shoulder as you do so. she turns around, taking you by the waist and pulling you into her, pressing languid, deliberate kisses over your neck.

"y'know, that kinda did it for me."

hand moving to thread through her hair, you chuckle at her statement. "why?"

she hums into your skin as she alters her path, mouth moving upwards and over your jaw, lips slotting against your own. "i don't know, 'cause you're hot. and you were, like, basically on top of me, looking all serious and concentrated and shit."

you laugh, taking her by both sides of her jaw, unable to help yourself from kissing her wantingly when you pull her back in.

of course you end up letting her eat you out before you go; ellie on her knees by the bed, your legs slung over her shoulders as she laps at your clit, fingertips pressing into your hips, roaming over your stomach.

you're already late, anyway.

no because can someone help me manifest @luvsellie’s return cause i saw their post about missing my old account and, like!!! :(

★ cupid carries a gun.

open up your skull, i'll be there climbing up the walls.

cw # 18+ mdni, modern au, mentions of marijuana, dealer+loser!ellie, blink and you miss a slight pervert behavior, sub!reader, switch!slightdom ellie, pussyslapsyum, pet names, fingering, public sex.

wc: 4.9k (idk how this happened) // request more ellie shit pls.

the first time she saw you, she called you bro by accident.

it happens unexpected. ellie's been selling weed for a while now and she's used to get random text messages from unknown numbers: a friend of a friend, a recommendation from some old client — of course when she got your text you're not going to receive special treatment, not when she greets you like she would greet a guy, asking you where to meet since the club's big.

you're friends with cat, that's how you got her number. your usual provider is being insane with ridiculous prices you cannot afford not even by chance, so you're searching for someone else, a reliable source you can buy your weed from without getting into much trouble.

she’s perfect for the job.

it's a surprise either way when you tell her to meet you close to the main stairs in the first floor, and you think you saw her by the time you get there, but before you can approach your phone lights up with a new notification from an unknown number you now recognize.

you like it, making them think you’re a man, confuse the people you buy weed from. it's funny cause it's not the first time it happens, matter of fact, it's really common as you approach the auburn haired girl, noticing she's far less intimidating than your last seller, less tattoos on the face to instead, be covered in freckles and green eyes.

and to ellie — it's clear you aren't a bro too.

you don't pay much attention since it's a quick interaction, but to ellie its enough to make her spiral. too much weed, too much booze that night made her look at you like you're most beautiful girl out there, barely illuminated by the sporadic lights that changes time to time as you approach to her in a nice top of a band she also hears.

"hey. sorry to make you wait" you're too kind to her rough heart, yet from up close she's able to look at your face properly: where the fuck did you know cat from? why she hadn't seen you before too? was she hiding you from her?

"ellie," she presents herself like you do and she's almost a little shy to ask you to walk with her to a less crowded space, cause it sounds different from when she usually asks, slapping herself mentally for being so lame when she meets a pretty girl in a situation like this: don't be a fucking pussy. "do you mind if we move to a quieter place?"

"no, no problem" you reply "i was going to ask you the same, actually. don't want to get kicked out from here."

and you must be really trustful person, cause ellie could be a bad person and you're following her willingly, entering a dirty, small bathroom only to lock the door beneath her not really knowing her true intentions. you know she's not going to do anything when she's nervously speaking to you as the space got way reduced.

"so, you're friends with cat" what's she even doing? trying to pull off some small talk she sucks for? either way your nodding as ellie gives you a small bag with an smiley face on it, letting you see the weed she's going to sell you out first — "you study here in this university?"

"yeah, it’s my last year" you say inspecting the weed with a pleased look, sure you're buying when you take a deep breath and it seems like actual weed and not a fucking rock so tight it seems it came in somebody's ass, good smell, some purple there between different shades of green "film school."

"sick," she looks at you for a moment since you're too busy looking at the product. under the white lights ellie can see the details on your face now, the small moles, the scars, things she wasn't aware of as she wasn't so close as she is now — "it's okay? you like it?"

“smells real good, my last supplier was pretty shit and always had the same strain" you find her concern cute, sure she must take pride in selling good stuff, maybe that's why cat shared her number so reluctant to it, you'd gatekeep a good dealer too.

“that’s lemon haze” ellie explains as a subtle layer of red spreads right over her nose, must be the weather inside the bathroom or something like that, but it's hot as she stares at your eyes and she's betting you must be thinking she's the weirdest girl in the planet. her flannel's too fucking tight, too thick. "it's a nice sativa, wont leave you stupid nor like a hungry animal."

girls like you may be out of her league, but even when ellie's brain saying the same, it does not matter when your fingers brush against hers and you're laughing at her bad joke, giggling like she's oh so funny and it's enough. it may be a tactic she's falling all the way in when saying a lower price than regular and your eyes widen cause you don't believe it: why would such a good quality be cheaper than the usual shit?

"you study in this university too?" you curiously ask as if you're trying to catch the trick, clever girl. she’s selling you cheaper to secure you.

"forensic science" you seemed a bit surprised by it since you didn't talk much to stem girls in general, being in two different fields: hot— "it’s my last year too."

"that sounds cool, never met someone who study that," you say as you're pulling out 20$ for at least 3 grams of top-graded-weed: she's fucking stupid for selling that quality for less than $30 "well nice to meet you ellie, if i don't get poisoned with your weed, you'll be definitely hearing more from me."

and she wants to say something flirty, something with her usual witty charm and her sarcastic replies she loves by heart, but instead of saying something clever, ellie ends up stuttering, tripping in her own words as she nods.

"i- uh- yes sure. save my contact and text me anytime."

fuck it, cause it does get her to know you'll be talking to her again someday, maybe this week, maybe the next, tomorrow. her weed is hella good and her own brain is feeding her delusions cause as far as she knows you might as well be the biggest heterosexual girl in university, but you're there waving her goodbye with a warm smile and your perfume lingers in the air for a while even when you're not there.

so ellie stays in the cubicle for a minute. the longest minute of her life when she takes a deep breath at the scent, discovering the fruity notes, the damn strawberries sweet as ever now impregnated under her nose.

fucking cat cause she must have kept you all to herself, pure selfish reasons — ellie thought they were in good terms.

it's crazy to say she would've done the same if you were her friend too.

the second time ellie sells you weed you're talking with your friends seated in a secluded spot of the main quad and the sun hits your skin just in the correct way to make her mouth go dry.

you're using this straight sinful sundress in blue and white, covering from the fresh air in a denim jacket and it looks so good she needs to check you actually messaged her in the first place and didn't imagined the whole thing.

she politely greets everyone but her attention drifts back to you when ellie's sitting close like you're friends with her before the people you’re hanging out with.

"was it good?" she asks, blatantly checking you out you're resting over your elbows, letting the exposed parts of your body fill out with vitamin d after being trapped in class for what it seems an eternity, and ellie feels trapped too, slightly different cause she's experiencing the victorian era on the flesh when only a glimpse of your ankles is enough to kill her — "guess it was if you're texting to meet up again."

"yeah, seems like you got the best weed in the whole place" you laugh, each time warming up to her as you reply under a pair of black shades that make you look so fucking attractive: her weed, the best. "good job, ellie."

awfully good price. outstanding for you, only loses for her.

the third time, you're meeting her outside class and her friends joke calling you her girlfriend as ellie quickly walks away hoping you didn't hear them: do you talk to her about dinosaurs too, williams? you're too polite to say you find it cute.

by the fifth time you're on her car and the silence is so damn loud as the music sound softly in the speakers, some song you say you like as ellie turns up the volume so you can hear it better. you're humming to the tune, a two-minute song as she pretends to be searching for the weed on her bag, taking more time on purpose.

"are you going to take the same three grams or you feel generous this time?"

"no, just three" you reply to her question. you've become quite aware of her consistent gaze on you now after weeks of selling you grass, personally giving you the best, making the moment linger without you noticing until you actually do catch on her subtle tactics— "that way i can text sooner and see you again this week."

ellie’s clueless most of the days but with that? anyone would notice you're flirting, blatantly as you look up to her and your dealer struggles to resist the need on her hands to pin you against the passenger seat and lean all over the console to go on and kiss you until you clearly state what you want. no playing around the bushes this time. demand, as her stomach turns, what do you mean by that.

do you want to see her more? that's why you buy three grams and talk to her every three or four days? are you, by any chance, not straight?

“if you want to see me during the week, you might just ask” ellie says mirroring your tone “like you ask to buy weed from me, s’not that hard.”

you’re the one who's nervous now, and she considers on giving you the weed as a gift before you’re paying. loses, you only mean loses in her economy at this point — and it's driving her hella mad when you get out the car and ellie’s left there with the need to have you as closer as you possibly agree to.

silk fabric slipping through her fingers.

the sixth time, ellie decides she's going to do something about it. about her needs. there’s no actual way you’re not flirting with her, the image of you in the passenger seat still sealed freshly on her mind even if it was a week ago, repeating it over and over again — you got her staring at your profile pic, debating if she can or cannot masturbate with the pictures you’ve shared on instagram from spring break in fucking california, liking your post cause it’s the only way she dares to interact, a way of saying she’s there.

in the middle of a saturday night, thinking about you. two in the morning and it’s all fucking you.

she should make up her mind. you’re a good buyer, and she wishes to keep it that way. you don’t ask for later payments, you constantly buy and don't share her number with weirdo friends like everyone else does, you're a reliable source surely: so why does her heart stops in her chest cavity when her phone's buzzing and ellie's reading the name she saved your contact with?

right. her pathetic crush on you.

her fingers move on their own before she considers to delay her response five minutes to seem busy.

she wont charge you double.

shit. it's two in the morning and she's selling you weed driven by the desire to see you again, using this gray hoodie to protects herself from the cold autumn breeze as she's pulling up to this party totally uninvited, passing the open door like it's her own house as zeta phi seems to be fully loaded now as the music sound loud and strident as all her hopes of catching you alone goes to the trash can.

no she’s not going to charge you double, she’s just guilty she’s so into you without you having any idea of it.

where you waiting for her arrival? fuck. her brain is acting up like a backstabbing bitch and ellie cannot help it as you appear radiant under a sea of people. you're not saying a word either when you're lacing your fingers with her's and you're pulling on your dealer upstairs, feet moving on their own as she don't make a single effort to resist your magnet-like influence in her very self.

ellie’s hand are sweaty cause she's so fucking nervous but you don't seem to care about it, looking back at her from over your shoulder only to offer a smile she cannot wrap her head around for a moment.

"can i ask where you're taking me?" she questions you, hoping her voice doesn't sound like that really, so strained and rough from just see you around — "or am i your hostage now?"

"we need a more private space to buy" you state like it's obvious "duh, the rooftop's empty. i stole the key."

ellie should've know you were a walking hazard.

cause it really seems like an achievement when you're opening the rooftop door, mischief grin as you look twice behind your back paranoid as ever someone can see what you're doing; and ellie chuckles at the sudden adventure, how you're closing the door when you invite her to step in with a subtle head movement, quickly shoving the key back to the pocket in your skirt.

cute. she thinks you’re cute.

it's empty like you said, and the knowledge makes every hair on her arms stand on their own even when she's wearing this thick hoodie that protects her from the cold.

"cannot risk my dealer of getting in trouble down there" you explain now that you can talk to her at a decent volume, and she fully eats it even when it's a clear lie and you're making up excuses to get her away from the noise.

"very kind, gonna name you my knight in shinning armor if you keep this up."

you're panting the spot right next to you as you take a seat in the over-used lounge chair with a tiny wooden table in front of it, and like a trained animal, ellie follows cause it's the perfect spot to leave her backpack as her brain keeps buzzing at the name you used to call her seconds before— my dealer.

she is, by all means, your dealer. it makes her chest fill out with a different kind of emotion, sound so fucking intimate, so nice.

"gonna buy the usual three grams, princess?" your knee brushes against her, and ellie's breathing hitches cause you're wearing this black-sheer stockings all the way to your upper thigh and she becomes aware of it when the material slips down as you're seated, skirt raising slightly upwards against the muscles of your legs: one movement and she swears she'd be able to see your underwear and ellie has to once again, remind herself how you quickly reduce her to this behavior; this state, shoved in a sea of pure filth — "or did you just call me because you wanted to see me tonight?"

she's feeling lucky tonight even when she never feels that way, a strike of confidence ellie feels as a rush on the blood: you give her a sight of your legs and now she's all over the damn place? loser behavior.

"is it that obvious?" you want her to kiss you. it's a need that installs deep down in your chest, and if you're not making it obvious by then you're definitely doing it now: you're not straight, you're not bulletproof to the holes her eyes make on your skin every time you have the pleasure to be left alone in her company, you're not giving up on this constant game of seduction you like to play "i'm buying weed too, so coming up here actually matters for you."

"haven't we state that already?" ellie asks, looking up to you as she drinks in the sight of you under the almost invisible light of the stars up in the sky "if you want to see me during the week-"

"might as well just ask" you completed for her as ellie grabs her bag so she can pull your weed from it. the best three grams she has in her power "i know that- thank you."

"it's a gift" she finally dares to say it now — "don't pay me this time."

has she ever felt this way before? never. the overwhelming pull, the reminder you're not her's? stings on ellie's skin like tiny needles. it's not a big deal, once again she's losing money all reckless, but fuck- it's worth it, worth it when ellie see you malfunction for a long moment, brain short-circuiting cause you don't expect it.

"that's not the deal."

"i don't care what our deal is, you're my best client, and i take care of my clients” it’s simple as she says it “sides. the weed does not matter, seeing you was payment already.”

"don't go yet," you add before she's making a movement to get up, hands cold wrapping around her arm as you pull her down to the lounge chair you're so comfortably seated — "smoke with me. let's talk for a while."

and she knows it's dangerous, but you're batting your eyelashes, looking at her with this sly smirk on your face she wants to kiss away and ellie has no option but to stay there buried in your side, your fingers still tight against her arm muscles as you make her stay.

"okay, but i need you to let go of me baby- i can't roll a joint with you all over."

liar.

she just want to see you get all flustered because of her as her fingers swiftly roll a joint without much effort, allowing the smoke to fill the air seconds after before you’re sneezing and she notices how you shiver on her side, turning her face to look back at your pretty face she’s been avoiding to stare so much.

"you cold?" she asks, and you do not want to admit it, but ellie's taking her hoodie off and it's a fucking sight when she's wearing this white tank top she does not care about until she can physically feel the shift of the air between you and her, caught up with your eyes checking her out as she lights up the joint.

"thank you," and for being a stoner, it's smells surprisingly nice as you relish on the warmth of it, comfortable now as you watch her smoke "i'll gave it to you downstairs."

"go home with it. you're going to catch a cold like this."

the silence it's imminent for a moment before she's passing you the joint an you're holding it between your fingers.

"i like your tattoo" is it also an excuse? not really, but ellie's bringing her arm closer to you as she's showing it under the flashlight of her phone cause she likes it too, showoff — "can i touch it?"

any other time she'd be denying it mumbling something stupid about hating random people to go on and touch her scarred arm but you're not a random girl. so she's whispering a barely audibly yes, and your fingertips are tracing the pattern etched on her skin, taking your time in doing so.

"it suits you," you praise as you touch, and she's fucking melting there under simple caresses, under something so simple as your fingers tracing her inked flesh, invisible shapes as you just want to keep your hand on her "did it hurt too much when you got it done?"

"yeah, sort of" it's not really like she's trying to sound cool, in all honest, she's just trying to be coherent now as you keep touching her skin as you smoke. invested in questions she's answering in full auto-pilot.

you're high after a while, and it's her weed that makes you look like that. half lidded, a lazy smile on your lips as you keep talking to her, red eyes, slower than ever: shit. she'd devour you all.

“have you ever shotgunned smoke into someone’s mouth?” you ask curiously, and the question comes out of nowhere as you stare at her blowing the smoke, a warmth creeping upon her neck as she notices the way you’re staring at her, ellie’s blushing.

selling you weed and not be able to get high with you every single time must be named one of the most horrible crimes in humanity.

“when i was like, 17?" ellie replies thinking for a moment "i dunno, thought it was the hottest thing ever- have you?”

“no, not really."

and to be fair, ellie's high too. she's testing a new strain with you and the words roll out of her tongue so easily she has no time to regret it, not when you're looking at her like you want her to get handsy there in a damn lounge chair, to hell if it’s in the middle of nowhere or not.

“want me to do it for you?” she asks, a gentleman as usual “i’ll gladly be the first.”

it takes a moment for you to consider it before your voice is all low and husky — "mhm."

“come here then miss,” ellie says using a finger to call you out, the joint already on her lips before she takes a long drag — “sit on my lap and open your mouth f’me.”

it's devastating.

your weight on top of her, your ass in her leg as she can see again, those transparent sheer stockings that must be damn useless against the cold, and her hand rest on your upper thigh there where she looked before.

you're so obedient. your skirt is a sinful invitation to touch further, and you're parting her mouth for her so she can get closer, and as she smokes, ellie does get closeto you. closer than she’s ever been — more than the car, the bathroom in the party she met you, mere inches before she's shotgunning the smoke in your parted lips and you're smoking from the same weed that was in her lungs.

"17-years-old ellie was right" you reply, not really moving to give her space as ellie's fingers squeeze your leg like a reminder you're there still, sated on your dealer's lap, her hands on you — "it is the hottest thing ever."

it's almost a chronicle of a death foretold, cause ellie's kiss does not surprise you at the slightest. it's demanding and sloppy cause she's high, you're high, and she's a victim of this force she cannot escape near you.

so she keeps on kissing you until your lips are swollen and you're simply there, slowly wanting more, squeezing your legs together cause you don't want to be a slut now — no. you don't want her to know you're soaking over a few kisses, at ellie's fingers pulling on your high stockings down till they are no longer there anymore.

"you're a fucking menace" she says between kisses, breathing heavier now by the seconds: ellie already noticed— "a menace to me, to my weed and my economy, you know that? how you make me sell out my stuff at half the price cause i want you as my secured client?"

despite her words, she's pushing you closer to her so you can feel her rib cage pressed against you, the goosebumps you produce just from being close to her, red lips and messy hair.

"it’s your loss ellie, cause i'd pay for the full price."

"mmhm well shit, you're really lucky cause you do give damn good kisses" she murmurs, fingers toying with the hem of your skirt now and she has the damn audacity to keep on smoking cause she's now confident on her effect, how you’re all affected by her touch — "and if you give damn good kisses, i'm betting all my money that you have an even better pussy for me."

the sounds you're making? fuck. she’s creaming her panties already when you're letting her touch you so freely and it’s not near enough.

"what is it going to be then, huh?" she asks curiously, her mouth already following the path down to your collarbone, your cleavage before she’s taking her time in leaving red-purplish hickeys there hidden beneath her own gray hoodie "should we make it to our seventh selling or you're going to let me play with your needy cunt as a much deserved reward?"

shit. shit. shit. you're so fucking wet when you're parting your legs further apart to give her a nice view of your underwear, a damp spot already there between your legs who’s enough to make her mouth water with the thought of burying her face between your thighs, intoxicate with the smell you're emanating and she feels already under her nose.

good fucking girl. she wants to praise you, let you know you're doing a great job there letting your skirt roll up to your stomach, so easy to get rid of it ellie's sure you did it on purpose now so she can let her hand slip between your legs to feel how soaked you are.

your cunt makes this sound when her finger’s taunting you she just happens to love, and your underwear clings to your pussy lips, hips buckling up to meet her fingers already wanting more.

greedy.

"shh-" she tries to reassure you — "you're comfortable there baby? want you to feel good when i touch you yeah? you'll let me know anything cause you're my well-behaved girl, aren't you? my best client here.”

ellie’s making you shake her head, coaxing you to say out loud you are comfortable there, ass in her lap, spread legs as her fingers push against the fabric right against your entrance, noticing how the cotton soaks at the motion.

"look at you all desperate" she chuckles — "have you been thinking about this a lot like i do?"

her fingers pull on your underwear to the side and there it is: glistening cunt, swollen lips and neglected clit that's just begging to be touched, filled, discovered by her hands, her mouth, tongue. nothing she fucking wants more.

who she is to ever deny anything to you? to stop selling you weed? the joint falls to the ground now as she's using her entire hand to touch you, fingers rubbing against your minor and mayor labia, circling against your engorged clit as you arch your back and she has to use force to keep you still, taking what she has to give like a champ.

"you're fucking soaked-" there's a slap sound that fills the air, and even when there's people in the garden they don't seem to hear your whimpers as her hand comes in contact with your pussy and she's slapping it once again, just enough to apply some pressure in your clit, just enough to make your legs shake "so responsive to me, gonna let me stuff this cunt full tonight? fucking finally huh? you've been haunting me like no one else."

and you giggle, giggle cause you cannot fucking believe it: fucking your dealer? are you so for real right now? you're deep under a cloud of haze you're unable to control, disheveled state when your skirt is all the way to up and your underwear being pulled to the side at her mercy and you can only answer:

"yes- ngh yes please ellie."

"shit- your clit is all puffy baby, all needy for me."

you're squeezing her already so hard when she’s working on you. a wet schlick that fills the air and combined with your incoherent words of praise and moans will send her to the grave.

ellie’s knuckles-deep and fuuuck. you're so tight she needs to ask if you're doing right, cunt engulfing her' fingers until there’s no more and she's curling them right to the spot so you don't care about the drunk fucks in the garden anymore, about anyone who can hear whats going on in an empty rooftop.

ellie’s using a hand to keep your legs spread when your free will collapses like paper cards, pulling them apart only to add a third finger in your used hole and reduce you to pieces now, clenching tight as she rubs on that special spot inside and you're mumbling something about feeling so full, so good with her inside.

"this pussy must be made for me baby, fits me like a fucking glove," ellie’s doubling her efforts, her palm colliding against your clit, fingers thrusting against the right spot over and over — "gonna let me see your pretty face when you cum? i know you're close."

you are. fuck you so are. your movements are erratic, your legs shake, and ellie's kissing on your shoulder, leaving a path of wet kisses on the exposed skin on your neck, biting on your earlobe, anywhere she can get.

"i can't-" you cry out, moving yourself in quick, sharp movements, it’s overwhelming — "fuck i can't hold no more-"

"let go" she replies, holding you tightly against her body — "let go. i got you."

it's hot. messes up ellie's jeans with a damp mark on them, turning the fabric darker when you finally cum and you're gushing on her fingers, leaking through trembling legs.

"fuck yes. drench me like that," your dealer moans, stealing a kiss from your parted lips, keeping the last glimpses of air in your lungs for her benefit "use me, baby, don't stop."

ah. ellie's in trouble after all, cause it don't seem she’ll be selling weed to you now. not when she's mixing business with pleasure and she's making you bend against the top rail of the old lounge chair cause she's not able to wait any longer to lick you clean until you have no other choice but to cum again.

truth be told she once heard cupid's cruel, but she didn't believe it fully, not until now since ellie knows, first hand — the little fucker shoots to kill.

THE LAST OF US 2.04