#tlou2 tw

[heirbane]

S.hadowbringers gaius is held in my heart in the same place as t.lou2 j.oel and I think that explains a lot

#what a flawed masterpiece #deeply deeply flawed male characters who know they did wrong but aren't 100% able to repent #or admit what they did truly. j.oel did admit but commited to his morals - which isnt a mark against him #g.aius admits what he did but struggles to find ways to make things right - because honestly nothing will. nothing can. he has caused #death and suffering by what he did. j.oel caused - may have caused - the world to stay stagnant by his choices too #frankly the fact that we adore j.oel and are so fiercely protective of e.llie is SO INTERESTING TO ME #because g.aius is joel. g.aius Did what he thought was best and both their daughters suffered irreparably #the only difference is g.aius is a.bby adjacent to us bc we were given him as an irredeemable villain. #I just fucking love unreliable narratives because if we had spent as much time as a.bby and had a whole game to understand #her grief and growing up we WOULD be on her side. what she did was wrong. what j.oel did was wrong. what they both did was wrong #but they are portrayed differently due to the coin side they're on and the way the story tried to convince u one was justified and one was - #just unhinged #ANYWAY.Z #tlou2 tw

[moncherellie]

𓆩⚝˚‧no room for the holy spirit ♱꙳˚₊‧

a/n: finally it's here! been screaming into the void abt this one for... ever. a thousand thank yous to @thirsting-over-women who proofread this for me :>> my savior actually. if the religious themes offend you (whether you are religious or have trauma) i encourage you not to read, maybe check out my other works instead :D

content/warnings: 4,500 words, preachers daughter!ellie x fem!reader, nsfw, reader wears a skirt, semipublic/car sex, fingering, oral (r receiving), reader's first wlw experience, sexual awakening?, religious motif, christian themes, mild religious guilt throughout, mentions of religious homophobia, internalized homophobia, ellie smokes a lil, she's a bit mean, fuckin in a church parking lot

The pressures of being a teenage girl were hard enough without the pressures of being a gay teenage girl. Being a gay teenage girl was hard enough without the pressures of being the daughter of a fucking preacher. Ellie had never really bought into the whole 'organized religion' thing, ever the skeptic. Even as a puny 8-year-old, she asked why she had to wake up early every Sunday for something she didn't even like doing. Her attitude didn't change much after that, but her parents got stricter and stricter in an attempt to control her sacrilege. She didn't spend much time with her family, instead seeking familial bonds at school, especially with her mechanics teacher, Mr. Miller. But, you know what they say:

Strict parents raise sneaky children.

And it's true. If Ellie's dad knew what she was doing outside the holy walls of the ministry, he'd have an aneurysm and have her exorcised. But, she always thought, what he doesn't know won't hurt him.

You were the opposite. Raised the same as Ellie, you took to religion and fully participated, though mostly out of obligation. Just go every week for an hour and your family will leave you alone. This tactic, for the most part, worked. Your traditional family had their rough moments, specifically when they mocked the outfits you'd wanted to wear to service and called you some... unsavory names. But if you could avoid any similar incident, any clash with authority, you were taking the holy road.

On the outside, you were the purest of people. There was never a bad or dirty thought in your mind. You were a pillar of the community, someone that parents pointed out to their kids. "Be like them," they'd say. Your parents were proud, so you should've been proud. Should've.

You and Ellie had grown up quite close due to being in similar social groups and seeing each other every week at service. Since then, you'd grown apart as you took different paths in life, though you still felt a sense of commitment toward her; So when she cursed out her father in front of the clergy, your eyes widened.

"You fucking dick! You don't know shit about anything! You use all this- this... bullshit- as a crutch so you don't have to own up to your own baggage!"

As she stormed out, you silently move from your spot in the choir, doe eyes shining in the bath of stained glass light, and shuffle up to the front of the room.

"Father, if I may, I would like to go check on your daughter." You're a model fixture, a saint.

"Of course, my child. I hope someday she'll be more like you. I pray that-" You shuffle off again, not wanting to hear about how he wishes his daughter was different. He really wishes his child hid who she was, you think bitterly. You admired Ellie's rebellion, though you'd never say it, and you wished you were as strong as her.

You walk away from the church to the little park you and Ellie used to go to. Your memories flood with nostalgia for simpler times, and you smile to yourself, pleasantly strolling through the large trees and foliage and looking for the rough girl. You find her crouching against a tree, squatting with her head between her legs.

Is she crying?

"... Ellie? Are you alright?" You whisper, not wanting to startle her.

You notice Ellie tense up before quickly standing up and whipping around to face you, a hand behind her back. "Oh! It's... you. Hey. Aren't you s'posed to be inside?"

"Yeah, but I just wanted to check on you. That was intense in there."

"Mhm, I'm good. Just needed some, ah, fresh air. Y'know?" She sounds a little too jolly, weirdly chipper. It's suspicious.

"Uh-huh," you say, unconvinced. "Whatcha got there?" You point to whatever she's trying to conceal.

She knows she's been caught. Her attitude suddenly shifts from faux-innocence to her usual snarky persona as she rolls her eyes, leaning against the tree and revealing what she had. She brings her hand up to her lips. "Nothing."

"Ellie!" You shriek. "You can't do that! Where'd you even get a cigarette?"

She laughs as if you'd said the funniest thing imaginable. "You think this is a cigarette? Are you stupid? No offense. But are you stupid?"

You scoff. "No! I mean, you're smoking it. What else am I supposed to guess?"

"A blunt, idiot. Kush. Mary Jane. Weed. Ma-ri-jua-na." She spells out for you like you're a toddler.

You cross your arms defensively. "Okay, I know what weed is, smart guy. You still shouldn't have it. Where's it from?"

"Stole it. I just wanted to see why people liked it so much. They say it relieves stress, and I think yes." Ellie grins lazily, eyes lidded. "I got another. You want?"

The answer to your question only makes you freak out more. "No! And you stole?! You stole? Oh my goodness, Ellie, you're gonna get us thrown in jail or something!"

Ellie wordlessly watches your breakdown, eyes red and amused, the corner of her mouth turned up. "Relax, man, it's barely illegal. Who's calling the cops for a single gram? Don't be lame like that."

"Lame?" You scoff. "Are you a first grader? Ellie, it's against the law, you could go to prison. And it's not juvie anymore, you're gonna go to real jail!" Your hands flail around wildly as you explain the repercussions of her actions.

"Jail..." She rolls her eyes.

"Yes, jail! That's kinda what happens when you steal something, Ellie!" The high-pitched, prissy tone with which you said her name was starting to annoy her, but the way you looked when flustered was intriguing. Maybe in another context, she'd enjoy hearing her name fall from your lips.

Ellie takes another hit, looking up at you. She tilts her head, asking if you're being serious. "Jail? Over a single blunt? Who cares that much?"

You gasp when you realize: "I'm an accomplice!"

"You're not an accessory just because you're here." She chuckles as the wind blows past and carries her smoke near your head as you duck dramatically and swat away the smoke. She looks at you for a moment, slightly smiling. Her green eyes meet yours briefly before turning her attention back to the joint.

"Why are you using it anyway? It smells rancid."

"Already told you. I wanna know why people do it. It relieves stress and I'm plenty stressed. Plus, I look dope as shit with it, right?" Ellie leans against the tree, and a small part of you wants to say yeah, you do. "You should try it. Maybe get that stick out of your ass."

"You're gonna get addicted."

"God, it's just this once. What are you gonna do, tell my dad?" She chuckles to herself, taking a long drag.

She checks you out, head to toe, examining the flowy fabrics and neat hair and the Mary Jane shoes that drive her crazy. Who wears those? Her gaze returns to meet yours, and she looks utterly dumbfounded by you. Your eyebrows furrow as you see how her expression changes. "What's that look for?"

She shrugs nonchalantly. "I dunno. You're just so robotic. It's like you never think about stepping the teensiest bit out of line. It's creepy. You've never had an independent thought in your life. Have you ever done anything even remotely rebellious?"

You make a noise that seems to say Well why would I? "No! Of course not! And you shouldn't either, I mean look at your dad, he's-"

Her voice raises, a tone you've never heard and don't care to hear again. "-My father? You mean the preacher?" She mocks. "What about him? You don't know anything about my father." Ellie's look hardens, eyes steely and mouth pursed into a thin line. It's a look you've seen maybe twice before, both in much more tense situations. Her voice says that you can't change her mind. You don't care to try. Whatever she's referencing, you believe her.

"Okay. Okay... sorry." You say gently, losing the defensive energy you'd held a moment ago. Ellie sighs and takes an irritated puff. To relax, you think.

"And you always apologize. It's so weird. You need to loosen up a bit." Another long, somehow sarcastic hit. "What's the worst thing you've *ever* done?"

An embarrassing, very private thought crosses your mind. You obviously can't tell her what you think about at night- you're barely able to admit to yourself that you have such impure thoughts. Instead, you shake your head. "Can't- I can't think of anything."

You watch her forest green eyes roll up, then down. It's a very familiar expression on her. "Thought so." She grins up at you, and you look away into the treeline nervously. "Do you wanna try something fun?"

"Is it... illegal?"

"No. Don't worry about that." She motions for you to come closer, so you take a tentative step forward, eyeing her like a wild animal. She hates the way you look at her, making her feel alien. Just because she lives authentically. It makes her want to ruin you, to have you stoop down to her level. Then maybe you won't look at her as if she were extraterrestrial.

You need an attitude adjustment, you need to chill the fuck out, you needed to get fucked, and hard. Ellie thinks she can help you with that.

She grins that toothy smirk as she watches you step closer, taking a puff and placing the blunt between her slender fingers. She doesn't miss the way your eyes trail the two long fingers that hold it. You wonder if she's doing this on purpose.

Ellie backs you up against a tree, and you recognize is as the same old oak that you would climb with her as kids. The branches and bark have left scars on you that Ellie helped you heal. She wonders how they look now.

Your back hits the trunk with an unceremonious thump, and you startle. Ellie keeps walking toward you, now getting uncomfortably close. "Uh- so what are we..." You trail off, thinking she'll explain what she's doing right in your face. She doesn't.

Her arm raises, trapping you between the tree and her body as she studies you. It makes you want to crawl out of your skin, but feels incredibly electric at the same time- it's a sensation you've only felt around her, though you don't know why. She takes another hit and you nervously look away.

She tilts your jaw back to look at her. You have to face her pretty green eyes, unwavering as she stares you down, while you sneak glances just to check if she's still there. Your breath speeds up when she leans closer.

Ellie puts her stupid pink slightly chapped adorable smiling lips near the base of your neck.

"What are you doing?" You say breathlessly. You swear that you feel her ghosting over your skin, so close, yet not as close as you want her. Maybe if you lean in...

Before you can, she breathes out her smoke, lightly trailing her lips down your neck. Her tongue comes out to prod at the skin, tasting you. You whine. The smoke envelops the two of you, and your nose crinkles at the foul smell. You look down to chastise her but she's already looking at you with those eyes and that cheeky look. No matter what you say next to defend yourself, you know you're caught, that Ellie knows she's affected you. It's in your eyes, the way you've seized up so tightly, how you look at her like you can't wait to see what she does next.

She presses a chaste kiss on your collarbone and you crane your neck upward. You're not sure if you're trying to get away or if you're giving her more access. She pulls away and you find yourself leaning forward to try to get her back on you.

"Is that the most rebellious thing you've ever done?" She chuckles, taking another drag and blowing it over you, bathing you in the white haze. "You like being treated like that, huh?"

You shiver. "I don't get it," you say dumbly. You've never been this confused.

"What don't you get? I just think it's fun to make you squirm." She thinks you've had enough and blows her next exhale away from you. "I wanna corrupt you, sweetheart." It sounds derogatory coming from her but you find that you don't mind the tone. The spot Ellie had made contact with feels as if it's burning. You crave for that feeling all over your body.

You stammer over your words, pathetically unable to spit out any sort of coherent reaction to her. Any reaction would be better to tripping over your words. Fed up with trying to sound like a person, you decide to stop talking.

"You enjoyed that huh? Admit it." She inhales and repeats her action. "Makes you feel hot inside."

"What? No- no, are you insane?" The sane part of you is telling you that you shouldn't be doing this, especially not with Ellie fucking Williams of all people. She's everything you aren't- she's rude and snarky and devilish... and tall and strong and hot. Oh shit! The batshit insane part of you is slowly melting the angel on your shoulder, and you can basically see the little devil cackling as you feel yourself straying further from the good girl persona you'd cultivated. You feel your heartbeat in your pants.

Ellie begins to kiss down your neck, sucking and licking at your jaw and collarbone. This time, you're acutely aware that you're actively giving her access to do as she pleases with you. "Maybe I'm insane, but I can tell. You did like it. And if you deny, I'll do it again until you tell the truth."

"Well I didn't, so you can forget about-"

She places her thumb on your lower lip as you start your tirade, effectively shutting you up. "Too late." Ellie leans in and before you know it, her lips are on yours. Her arm snakes around the back of your waist and pulls you as close to her as you've ever been. That warm feeling flushes down your body, leaving chills across your skin. More. All you can think is that you want more. Your hands come up to grip her shoulders, you almost want to push her away, but you find yourself pulling her closer and closer. No room for the Holy Spirit.

Ellie pulls away, smugly looking down at you. "Told you you liked it."

"I didn't say that." You were being a contrarian on purpose at this point. Anything to keep Ellie treating you like this- you wanted to prolong this moment for however long you could. She hoists you up, bringing you out of the park and into the back of the parking lot. She throws you into the backseat of her beaten pickup and crawls atop you with darkened eyes.

You squeal in surprise. "El-lie!"

She continues to kiss you, making you wetter by the second. The heat pooling in your panties is so fucking embarrassing, but you find that you don't care how humiliating this is. You just want more.

"Els, what if someone sees?"

She scoffs as if the idea is preposterous; as if the prospect of getting caught is impossible. "Nobody can see us, and they won't leave until later. Don't stress about it." Ellie bites her lip and it makes your body get hot flushes. "I can do whatever I want to you. But you know what? I think you'd let me. Is that right?"

"...Maybe." Read: Yes, yes, anything! She leans down, placing her hand on the back of your neck and pulling your head closer up towards her. Her hand forces your legs apart further to allow her access. The way she lays on your inner thighs, atop your clothed core, makes you feel lightheaded. You love the way she manhandles you, and it's exactly how you thought she'd be. Every time she adjusts her position, your clit rubs against her and sends jolts of electricity up your body.

"I knew it. You're not as perfect as you try to be. You're dirty."

You want to deny it, you really do, but the evidence is clear. You're disheveled under her, lips swollen from hers, and she's pulling your panties to your ankles and shoving them in her jacket pocket, yet you're ashamed to say that you don't feel an ounce of guilt over it.

Despite how excited you are for whatever is about to happen, you're still incredibly nervous. This is the most physically vulnerable you've ever been with another person, and the fact that you're completely bare under your skirt makes your stomach flip.

Your face must betray your emotions because Ellie momentarily softens. She pulls her hands away from your hips and cups your face, peppering kisses across your cheeks and up to your forehead, making you laugh lightly. "You alright? We can stop."

"No... please don't." Her face lights up.

"Sorry, say that again?" You roll your eyes and she chuckles. "I knew you were like this. Not so pure now, huh?"

"Guess not."

"So you admit it?"

"...Fine. Yes."

Ellie sighs in relief as if her thirst were quenched- that's what she's been wanting to hear from you forever. She could see it in the way you snuck glances at her during mass, finding your wandering, hungry eyes from across the room. She could feel it in the way your hand lingered on her a little too long to be friendly, your touch suspiciously light, like if you touched her any harder you'd start to tremor.

But now, there's no semblance of the timid person you'd been. When Ellie pulls away, your hand comes up to the back of her neck to pull her back in. You're insatiable, and Ellie fucking loves it. She tugs at the bottom of your sweater. "Pull that fucking thing off. Show me those pretty tits." Her breath becomes heavy as you oblige and become needier. "Did you know you were this easy?" She teases.

"What? I'm- I'm not." Everything she says feels designed to evoke the biggest reaction from you. She keeps you on your toes, never letting you get too comfortable. How exciting.

"So it's just for me then?" You don't answer, and it excites Ellie to know that she's right. This reaction is purely for her. Nobody else has seen you like this, and she's grateful to be the one who gets to corrupt you. It really didn't take much effort. "You're so easy to control."

Her hands drift back to your thighs, sliding under your skirt, her lips press to your jawline. Hot breath trails along your neck, down further to your collarbone. Her fingers slide over your inner thighs, sensitive skin rippling as she applies light pressure, testing how reactive you are. You twitch, unwittingly opening your legs more and giving Ellie more access. "You look good like this, though."

Ellie's fingers dig into you, grasping the flesh of your ass and moaning softly into your ear. Her thumbs are on either side of where you desperately need her, and your hips buck up into her, seeking her touch. "Knew you had a nice ass, too."

"Shut up." You mumble.

"Why would I? You like it when I say things like that, don't you? You wouldn't be this drenched if you didn't." She swipes the pad of her thumb over your clit and applies delicious pressure. You nearly cum on the spot.

Is this what you've been missing? This pleasure, this euphoria? Ellie grins at your reaction, drinking in your desperation for her like a succubus. "Aw, sensitive little pussy. Haven't you touched yourself like this before?"

You had, a few times, actually, but it never went this far, deep-rooted guilt gnashing in your stomach and ending the moment before you'd been able to finish. After admitting this, she coos at you. "Poor baby." Her tone is so condescending, but it makes you clench around the tip of her fingers.

She slides the first knuckle of two fingers past your entrance, pumping them in and out painfully slowly. "Ellie, you prick. Come on." She continues her ministrations, gently stroking your entrance, never giving you enough to feel remotely satisfied. She uses this time to take in your disheveled, sweaty appearance. Your cute tits bounce as you shift uncomfortably, waiting for Ellie to please you. A bead of sweat rolls down and she can't help but bring her mouth up to lick at it as it slides over your nipple. Her mouth attaches to you and you sigh, holding her closer by her hair. She grins up at you, making eye contact through her lashes. You can see the tip of her tongue poking out, wetting your bud as the cool air nips at you, making you all the more sensitive. Even now, Ellie still hasn't stopped her teasing below.

"Can't call me a prick then beg for me to fuck you. 's not how it works, pretty girl."

"Then what do you want?" You whine.

Ellie can feel your clit flutter and pulse as she moves. "Fuck, you're so desperate for me, aren't you? I want you to tell me how bad y' want me."

"I- I d-" You begin to protest, being cut off with a squeal as Ellie licks a sloppy stripe up your pussy, finally tasting you.

"Don't bullshit me. If I'm gonna fuck you, I needja to be a little more honest with me. I see how you look at me. You been trying to push some thoughts down, huh?"

It was so humiliating how well she could read you. Whenever her tongue came out of her mouth to take communion, your eyes would be trained on the muscle, breath hitching as she would wink at you. Without fail, you would trail your gaze up her body when Ellie walked in with a suit, her way of dressing nicely for service. Always, always, she could feel the heat radiating off your body as she pulled you closer, not taking her eyes off the pastor speaking.

Your thoughts were impure, sinful, and how embarrassing that Ellie knew. You believed you were hiding it well- obviously not.

"Yeah. Maybe."

Ellie's big hands wrap around your thighs, fingers landing on the sensitive skin near your pussy. She looks up at you and you can feel her hot breath on your clit. It takes everything in Ellie to not eat you out immediately, but your embarrassment is too tempting to pass up.

"Tell me about it. You try to fuck yourself thinkin' of me?"

"I do. I- I tried to, at least. Doesn't work."

"Why not, babe? You're so responsive right now." Her fingers find their place back at your entrance, pushing in as you speak.

"I- oh, shit-" You gasp.

Ellie grins. "Talk to me."

"My fingers aren't good enough."

"Ah," she says, "and mine are?" She knows the answer.

"So good."

Ellie likes that she's made you desperate enough that you've abandoned your pride. She enjoys the flush on your face as you shamelessly admit your secrets to her, the good-girl persona a figment of the past.

She's so busy staring up at how your face contorts in pleasure that she doesn't realize that she hasn't moved her fingers in a hot minute. The teasing is torturous for you.

"Ellie," she hears you whine, "Please!" You rut your hips against her fingers and she feels lightheaded. Jesus fucking Christ.

"Sorry, pretty girl. Got distracted." She smirks. "I'll give you what you want now." Ellie finally moves her fingers, curling them in and out slowly. You groan again and she laughs. "Okay, okay! Sorry." Her face darkens and she bites her lip. "You want me to fuck you? Alright, I'll fuck you."

Ellie's fingers begin to pump inside you, hitting all the spots that make you jump and squirm, and you're sure the rusted heap of a car you're in is about to fall off its chassis. She's going so fast and hard that you're immediately overwhelmed and you don't know where to put your hands. In the span of a minute, they cup your face, a forearm slings over your eyes, and you throw your arms up against the window. Finally, you settle on cupping your cheeks, fingers slit open so you can peer down at Ellie's focus on you.

Her eyes haven't left your pussy since she started. She's absolutely mesmerized by how fucking wet you are, how you seem to suck her fingers back in as she tries to pull out and your body betrays how desperately you want her. Ellie's mouth is slightly agape and she can't help when her tongue flickers out to lick curiously at your clit, wanting to taste you again.

"Fu- fuck!" You yelp, bucking your hips up into her face. Ellie snorts as she watches how you squirm. You can feel something building and though you have an idea of what it is, it's building fast and slightly scaring you. "Wait, Els, hold on a second, something- ah- I think- I think I'm-"

You're nervous about how it creeps up on you so suddenly but you find there isn't time to be self-conscious about it because you cum, and you wonder why God could possibly think that doing this is a sin. How could it be a sin if it felt so right?

You don't know what sound you made or how your face looks, but by the way Ellie looks up at you, it must've been something. Her eyes flicker back down to how your clit pulses as you finish, leaking cum onto her fingers and trailing down her hand. You know what she's fucking thinking because you always do. Before you can form a sentence, she's licking up your cum like it's the best meal she's tasted.

You shudder violently. "Ellie, holy fuck, stop, I'm still sensitive! Oh m- Ellie, come on!" Only when you push her face up does she stop, giving you the cheekiest grin.

You roll your eyes and throw your head back against the car door, panting. The dull ache in your thighs is apparent when you attempt to sit, pulling your panties up and cringing at how your cum pools on them.

Ellie still hasn't said anything. You glance over at her, wondering how she feels about whatever just happened. She's looking down, grey hoodie still pulled up to her elbows, staring at the fingers she'd just fucked you with. She glances up at you, a shit-eating grin spreading across her face. 

“That was hot.” Her hand rubs up and down your thigh, a kind of comfort you’d never received from her. It wasn’t unwelcome.

You don’t quite know how to feel. There are twinges of guilt gnawing at your stomach, that religious guilt creeping in. Had you done something wrong? 

But at the same time, there was a warmth in Ellie’s gaze that made you feel like maybe, it was all worth it. Was it unholy? Almost definitely. But this awakening couldn’t be all bad if she kept looking at you with those soft, fond eyes.

my masterlist...

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x reader smut #tlou2 x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams smut #fem reader #moncherellie writing #ellie williams oneshot #tw religion #tw religious trauma #tw #ellie williams

[heavenbloom]

🇵🇸 BEFORE YOU READ:

DAILY CLICK • BOYCOTT TLOU • DONATE

please do not skip over this! continuing to support palestine in any way possible is much more important than reading any piece of fanfiction.

𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒊: 𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒂𝒏

knight!abby x princess!reader

summary: your plans to usurp your despotic brother are halted when he assigns one of his strongest knights to keep an eye on you. what will wither and what will blossom in her presence?

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, political elements, fem afab reader, princess reader is manipulative, extensive descriptions of blood and violence, graphic depiction of murder, subtle enemies to lovers (more so in next chapter), degrading terms used in a non-sexual manner, insults, profanity, probably ooc?, not edited, reader discretion advised

a/n: this is HEAVILY inspired by The Jasmine Throne by Tasha Suri. this song is the atmosphere i was going for if you wanted to listen while reading!! dedicating this to @catfern, love you <3

wc: 4.7k

The corpse-quiet hours before dawn settled over the world with the languidness of dripping wax. There was a tenseness to it, beneath the silence, the twinings of a tautly strung instrument. You could smell it on the breeze too, a lick of disturbance carried sharply on the air alongside the fragrance of jasmine and rose. This night was a thing too tender for imminence, you thought, as you watched off-white petals scatter across pristine marble.

You felt it in your bones first, as it reverberated through the night. It felt like rolling thunder across the mountainside, but it was far too regimented to be birthed from mother nature. No, you knew this sound as intimately as your own heartbeat. 

Hoofbeats. Steadfast, almost urgent, as they ascended towards the palace. Through your balcony, you could see a sea of them, clad in the pure white of moonlight and the gold of dawn. At the very front jostled a garish carriage swathed in the same colours, flying your nation’s flags. You stepped further out onto the balcony. A retinue, a homecoming. Your brother has returned.

Of course, ease slid through your veins at the fact that it was not a darker reality encroaching, but it curdled instantaneously, soured by the notion that you would merely be a marionette tugged upon and prettied up in order to appease him. A dutiful princess, you would play the part of orator, musician, perhaps finally bride to a stranger if the King and all his attendants had his way. What were you but a flower with an endless array of malleable petals to be arranged this way and that? 

You drank in the perfumed scents that swirled around you, a sigh passing your parted lips. The silk curtains of your suite lifted like a breath, the solid colour broken apart by somebody familiar, whose chest rattled for the solace of fresh air.

Your features did not falter as your eyes remained fixed upon the retinue fast approaching. The girl, one of your many pairs of watchful eyes,  strode towards you, sweat upon her brow, a worrisome crease at the youthful corner of her lips. You remained fixed as you felt the brush of rough parchment against your smooth palm.

Politics was a game played by degrees, after all. It demanded quiet, the slithering of a black-belllied snake in the grass, waiting for the perfect moment to coil around its prey and squeeze. You let the paper unfurl against the wind, let it flap in the air as you read word upon word scrawled onto the page with an unsteady hand.

You knew what you hungered for, the prey that dangled just out of reach above your open maw. It glistened deepest oceanic blue cast in gold, and it sat safely atop of your tyrannical brother’s head.

Like all noble daughters, you knew that patience was a virtue. Things did not fall easily into your lap, so you would have to work for it, a dog searching ceaselessly for a single scrap of bone. You would let the meat of the empire simmer, wait until it was your turn to have your fill.

The parchment began to crinkle under the ferocity of your grip as your brother flashed through your mind. His smile, all canines. The cruelty that lurked just beneath the surface of that untarnished exterior.

With a fiery savagery singing in your veins, you silently declared that his crown would be yours.

        𖥸 𖥸 𖥸

The day’s last light was beginning to wither away, its last breath sweeping across the courtyard below and setting it ablaze. The air that seemed like an extension of your own lungs the night before was cloying now, pollen stuck in the crevice of your throat and tightening it with fist-strength.

There were certain things you expected of your brother, but this…

Your eyes flitted from the balustrade to the woman who stood just behind the gauzy silk draped across the doorway. She had a straight spine to match the strength in her features. Slight aquiline nose, plump lips, and those eyes, crystalline blue but honed from years of slinking, silent observation.  There was no denying the touch of regality woven throughout her being. If somebody had said she were an empress from some distant land, you would have believed them.

It wasn’t such an extravagance that granted you with her presence, though. A white cape threaded with gold was draped around her armour-laden shoulders. There was a sword at her hip, but the breadth of her body alone was enough to make anybody hesitate.

This woman, whose body was carved for the gruesomeness of the battle, was to be your watchful knight, under oath to quash any harm that may arise. 

A bitterness rose from the pit of your stomach to the back of your throat. Sworn protector. The words thrummed in your skull like jailer. It was clear from her unbroken gaze alone where her loyalties were placed, at the feet of your brother and your brother alone.

You were the first to break your eyes away, demurely, subtle but unerringly feminine, and more importantly, inferior. Your spine was straight, but you hung your head slightly, letting your eyes wander along the outline of lush greenery below. Your hands skimmed along the finery that swathed your body. You appeared reticent and meagre, but every minute movement was deliberate on your part, a dance in which you knew all the steps.

Her shadow of a presence was a setback, certainly, something to keep you at bay, but if you wove the right tale, spun an intricacy of honeyed words and laid syrupy sweetness upon her… this one, like any other, could be used, moulded and rolled like clay with the right pressure. All you had to do was locate a chink in her armour. 

You gave a hesitant pause, counted to three, until you walked the expanse of the balcony, back into your quarters, the tinkling of weighty jewellery sounding with each step you took. Even closer, she appeared much more powerful, the jagged lines of her face schooled into sternness. The refusal to drop her gaze in the presence of her new lady sent a shiver down your spine.

“Abigail.” Your voice was gentle, the lulling of a flute. “I am grateful for your service. To my dear brother, of course, but especially to me.” You stepped closer to her, but remained at a polite distance, a benevolent smile gracing your lips.

Her face remained the same, but there was a slight quirk to her thick brows. She was used to doing bloody work for the King, but you could tell that she was unused to interacting with royalty.  “My loyalty is to the crown. I would do anything His Majesty asked of me, princess.” Ah, what a well trained response. As expected of one of the most renowned weapons in your brother’s arsenal.

“Yes, and it warms my heart.” You ensured your smile widened, your eyebrows softening in tandem with the lovely upward curve of your mouth. “I have heard stories of your bravery. To have such a hero protect myself alone… well, it feels rather a waste of talent, does it not?”

Her lips parted for a moment at the steer in conversation. You could see the hardness melting from her face like butter, replaced by an expression unreadable. It was too early to tell whether there was now a weakness to strike at, but it was better than talking to the righteous facade of her. “My talents can be just as useful in the Royal Palace as they would be on the battlefield.” Her words were as certain as solid stone, unmoving in their conviction.

“Such a noble heart you have.” You let the distance close between the two of you, then, your body just a few mere inches away from steel. Your hand met the one at her side, soft fingers grazing across leather, the cool hilt of her sword brushing against your knuckles. “But you do not need to protect me. Guards swarm this palace, after all.”

You expected abashment, the averting of that steady, unbreakable gaze, but not so much as a twitch of her fingers was drawn out of her. Still, you pressed on, as a thumb circled a spot on her gloved hand. “You would be better suited to attacking any threats at the root, dear knight. I could arrange you to be back where you once were. Not here, not with me.”

These lies, this faux flattery, left your tongue with the ease of second nature. You had none of the power you wished to possess, and you could not fulfil any such promise to her, but a few sweetened words could at least put you in her good favour, string her along for at least for a few moments outside of her obstructive gaze.

Something flashed across her features, but it was not the distant yearning for battle, not even the consideration of your hefty offer. You felt her thick fingers slip, gently, out of your grasp. Shock burst in your chest when her lips curled into a smile. Not completely unkind, but belittling all the same.

“The way we view honour differs greatly, princess.” Her mouth shaped the words slowly, deliberately and they hung in the air like an accusation. The last of the sun filtered through the balcony, causing the stray hairs framing her face to shine gold, the dust of freckles on her cheeks to appear like a smattering of starlight. You were once again struck by the wondrous beauty of her, a blow to the ribs. 

You urged the swell in your guts down hastily.

“Is it so dishonourable,” you started, choosing to focus instead on that same jagged ambition that ate away at you, “to desire glory for oneself?”

The eyes that you thought resembled a pristine shoreline now darkened with the implications of your question. You watched as the storm passed across her face, as the act of noble knight swallowed her whole once more. 

“Glory means nothing if it is not for the sake of serving the King.” She finally averted her gaze to the rolling gardens below. 

“Our King.”

𖥸 𖥸 𖥸

Thunder rippled across the charred night sky, the rain beating against the earth with the ferocity of a thousand rapid heartbeats. Your quarters burst white and fizzled with each lightning strike, and you could see the dozing face of Abigail each time. She laid, with one arm cradling the back of her head, in a cot at the foot of your bed, her golden-brown lashes long enough to cast wispy shadows on the apples of her cheeks under the inconsistent light. Even in her sleep, she seemed to be withholding herself from you, despite the stretch of days you had spent together thus far.

Beneath the writhing rage that clawed at your insides, you felt a soft pang, something faint and unfamiliar, for this woman. She was forced to live her days, in utter numbness, waiting for an attack on your life that would never come. She was here to intimidate you into compliance, at your brother’s whims, and she was completely unaware of it. To be a pawn in such a twisted game unwittingly… It was cruel. But weren’t you attempting to do the exact same? The hypocrisy was completely not lost on you.

You watched her sleeping figure for a few more moments until you were certain she was asleep. Then, soundlessly, you slipped out of the embrace of your bed. The air was cool but heavy with humidity as you walked on the balls of your bare feet, your nightgown brushing your ankles and sending an anxious tremble up your body. You tried to move as swiftly as you could. Your spies and confidants were loyal enough, but even they would not wait out the entire night for you when there was other work to be done at dawn.

 An electric thrill jolted your being when you clasped the door handle. Was evading her watchful eye really so easy? Was all you had to do is slink around in the deep hours of dark?  You bit down a smile as the heavy door gave way . Freedom, for a few mere minutes at least, was just beyond the door…

“My Lady?” Something glacial hardened in your veins. The voice was hoarse with the remnants of slumber, but there was no doubting the razor-edge awareness of it. 

For a beat, you were too stunned to face her. When you didn’t turn, she spoke again. “Princess, what are you doing out of bed?”

What was the safest way to avoid her suspicion? The crashing of thunder sliced through your thoughts like a knife, offering you an escape route on a silver platter.

You whorled around, your eyebrows high-strung. Abigail was sitting upright, her head tilted and her unbound blonde hair dripping over one shoulder. There was no armour covering the wide expanse of her chest, a rare exposure of bare collarbone and surprisingly soft skin. You would perhaps never get used to the sight.

You clutched the fabric of your nightgown and widened your eyes, fawn-frightened. “Abigail, I…” you let your voice taper off into a quiver.

She was up in an instant and striding towards you, brows knitted together. Despite the urgency vibrating every cell in her body, her large hands cupped your shoulders with a gentleness you thought so disjointed for a woman of her size and profession. You doubted she would have touched you if it weren’t for the haze of confusion that overpowered her usual meticulousness. 

“What is the matter? Speak to me, princess.”

“I-it’s absurd, I…” You trembled ever so slightly and could only pray that you were convincing. “The storm… well, it frightened me. I apologise. You mustn't be used to such frivolity.”

The tautness of her bow-strung body seemed to drift away all at once. Her shoulders drooped and she smiled, this time a thing of pure relief. “Is that all that this is?”

You nodded once, pulling yourself inward more and silently thanking whichever god had just granted you quick wits. She tsked softly and brought you closer to her. The warmth of her body was comforting, as alive as the spark upon a coal. 

“You can wake me when you’re frightened, my lady,” she breathed out, her breath rustling the hair at your ear. 

“I thought– I didn’t wish to burden you.” For once, there was a distasteful speck of truth in your words. She was a thing too gentle and straightforward for the ugliness of court politics. How could you ask her to help you usurp a throne she adamantly kneeled at the foot of?

“Princess,” she sighed, her hands trailing from shoulder to elbow. “Your brother has tasked me to protect you.” A lie, and yet she believed it so wholeheartedly. A loyalty as steady as a heartbeat.

“You cannot salve for every little thing that ails me.”

“There’s a sort of protection in comfort, is there not?” Such naive words, ones a child could have spoken, but they rang throughout your entire being.

She was diluted ink in the dark of the storm, but the whites of her eyes and teeth shone with the sheen of pearl. Your lips parted, drinking in a shaky inhale. You should have kept playing the delicate flower  in distress, but you were teetering on the edge of something dangerous and curious, a hunger that gnawed at the very marrow of your bones. A hunger that you had no choice but to satiate.

“And how do you intend to comfort me, dear knight?”

A moment of something heady passed, and you could practically see the churning of her mind, the weight of precariousness at her throat like a glinting blade. You knew then that the same starvation engulfed her own being, your hands slithering down to her wrists and clutching them. 

“I would do whatever you ask of me, My Lady–”

“No,” you cut her off, tracing a sliver of puckered flesh that outlined her bare wrist. A quaint shiver wracked her shoulders at the abrupt stone of your voice, unbidden. “No, Abigail. How do you wish to comfort me? Speak plainly.”

“I want…” Her voice was strained, the word leaden and fumbling on her tongue, her own will now foreign to her. Her hands tightened around your elbows. “What I want… what I desire, is not so easily spoken, princess.” 

Even in the dark, her eyes were the bottomless wells of a carefully guarded vulnerability. You wanted to chip away at that wall she had between you and her, between anyone but her fiery devotion and her own self.

You cupped her cheeks with the soft, uncalloused palms of your hands, watched as her reluctance dissolved with the touch. 

“Then show me.” 

Perhaps all that was needed was an uttered confirmation that you felt the same infuriating emotions. You had torn through the neat little bow of restraint that kept her being together, and now it was uncontainable, this ever-swelling.

There was a moment of hesitation, shared breath mingling sweetly, before she pressed her lips to yours. She cradled your waist as if you were porcelain, but her kiss was a beast of want, all teeth and tongue. Your back melded with the carvings of the door as she nudged you back, wooden jasmine blossoms and orchids keeping you tethered to the moment. You kissed back with just as much viciousness, astonished by your own affections welling up like crimson from a finger pricked.

It was with the ebb and flow of ocean waves that she let you go just as promptly as she had kissed you, her face a hazy mass of surprise in the semi-dark, leaving only the remnant of her warmth against your skin, the phantom of soft lips and tongue.

Her fingers scraped her blonde locks away from her face, chest heaving. 

“Princess,” she spoke through the ragged edge of her breath. There was a singed quality to her voice, raw and crisp. “Princess, it would be improper to continue.”

Disappointment, to your dismay, pooled in the pit of your stomach. You turned your head to the side and gave a feeble nod, swallowing at the thick knot lodged in your throat. Letting her warm your bed would be unwise, you reminded yourself now. It would serve no purpose to your goals, and a lovesick knight trailing you around was the last thing you needed. And yet... 

“We cannot cross that line,” she whispered. You felt the gentle snaking of arms around yours as you were pulled close to her chest, your ear snug against it. “But I am still here.” Her heartbeat was hummingbird-rapid, a reflection of your own.

She led you back to the bed and watched intently as you laid down beneath the smooth blanket. You stared in return. How was a person sharpened for such luridness able to wield tenderness the way she did a weapon? It was more frightening, you silently mused, than any tale of her violence could offer. It did little to divert the ache that seeped to your very bones, the craving for it.

Lightning still ruptured the heavens, followed dismally by a cacophony of thunder.

“Abigail.” Your hand drifted into the air, toward her. She held it gently in both of hers.

“Are you still frightened?”

Your plan for the night had been uprooted, and you had no choice but to remain here in this room. You traced each feature of hers with your eyes, lingering on the worrisome crease of her brow. Perhaps… “Yes, a little.”

Perhaps, this once, sweet selfishness was justified. Perhaps you could let this sordid business of trickery and usurpation float from your mind. This once…

“Will you lay beside me?” You sat up, peeling the blanket aside. “It would help me a great deal.”

“My lady…”

“Innocently, of course,” you reassured. “To know someone is beside me, to share that warmth… it would ease my nerves greatly.”

A beat passed, then another. “I think… It's something I also need. For tonight.”

“For tonight,” you echoed, patting the empty space of the bed next you. 

She clambered in beside you without another word, a slow exhale escaping her when her head softly hit the pillow. You could feel her breath fan over your face gently, followed by a soothing, steady hand on your arm.

“Will you hold me?” There was a waver in your cadence, something unbearably soft puckering to the surface. “Is that okay?”

 You were encircled by her arms, so gently that you felt, something swirl inside of you, just to then sink. 

Consciousness left her almost instantly at the feel of your body against hers. The comfort of someone to hold in the eternal stretch of night elleviated the quiet ache that thrummed and tugged at her own being. 

You listened as she slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep, until the sky stopped its tears and the only sound that could be heard was the rhythmic thump, thump, thump of her heart at your ear.

𖥸 𖥸 𖥸

The marble was icy beneath the soles of your feet, each footfall echoing softly through the desolate, cavernous halls. The lanterns flickered low, the walls cast in leaping, ravenous shadows. 

Wait for me at the entrance to the orchard, you had told your spy, an inconspicuous place for business made in the night, but as you reached the intricately designed archway, you were met with the absence of the living. The sharp smell of damp earth and overripe fruit wafted through the open space, yet it did little to calm the eerie feeling in your blood. 

Perhaps you were too late, or perhaps she had appeared conspicuous. A fist of disappointment twisted at your gut, but relief flooded your veins with it. There was silence, at least. Stagnance was a better ordeal than disruption. You turned away from the trees, feet almost silent without the usual finery adorning your ankles.

A whisper against the precious stone. Something scratching and picoting, until you felt the brush of it at your leg. Frozen, you peered at what had touched you. A piece of flimsy paper, the uncertain handwriting that you had come to know so well. Between the looping letters of secret after secret unfurled, vermillion stained the thin sheet. Vibrant. Fresh.

A man at the very first tree, the shimmer of the whites of his eyes furious and expansive. You knew this face, these pompous clothes, the cruel, all-knowing scowl on his lips. Your brother’s confidant and his closest advisor. If this man could stretch himself as thin as a carpet to soften your brother’s steps, he would have.

His movements were rigid, yet quick as he lunged in your direction, teeth bared and motivated by his sweltering rage alone. His cheek was streaked with the same shade of red.

“You treasonous whore!” He swiped his hands at you, but you scrambled away at the very last moment. “Traitor!”

“My Lord–” Your heart thrusted against your ribcage, your breath coming out in uneven, shattering breaths. There was no cajoling such a blind beast. His voice was much too loud, his body propelled by something untethered to reason.

You were going to be found out. He had the evidence and his screams were enough to alert any guards patrolling the slumbering palace. You had to do something, you had to–

He lunged forward again, forceful yet sloppy. Your body began to react on its own accord.

The blade was an ugly little thing, stolen from beneath Abigail’s pillow weeks ago and fastened in a makeshift sheath of torn silk and ribbon, held steadily enough by a bangle at your wrist. It was in your hand, slipping from the snugness of the material and clanging against the jewellery with the same delicate ring of anklet bells chiming in the midst of dance and song. A song of retribution, thrumming, awake and unabated, in your veins.

The moment was a blur, the contact of iron to skin one you could not even comprehend until a surprised, wet sound bubbled forth from the nobleman’s lips. He slumped forward against the blade, his eyes glassy. Lifeblood trickled down the hilt of the blade and down your fingers. The warmth of it made your stomach churn. 

Before you could pull the blade out, he swayed to the side, toppling to the ground with a sickening thump. Crimson bled across the stark white of the floor, pooling beneath his now motionless body.

The bile of pure panic rose to your throat, face leached of warmth. What have I done? What have I done? What have I–

“Princess?” A voice of honeycomb, even when it wavered with such uncertainty.

No.

You stared ahead, the bulky outline of her blurring only to refocus as she got closer. There was a look that had never graced her face before, one of confusion mixed with something akin to horror. Had she known this man? Taken orders from him?

But she did not look down at the grim image at her feet, but rather at you. Your stained fingers, the way your face had grown ashen and fear-stricken.

Her fingers ghosted over your cheek, but stopped short of making contact. “What…” You could hear the thoughts that knotted in her mind. How could such a sweet thing – you – do this?

A shout sounded down the hall, and you flinched, eyes darting in the direction as a new wave of bone-rattling fear crashed down upon you. There was a clamour, the sound of swords against urgently moving legs. 

Abigail pulled her hand away from you as if seared. Hardness seeped into the cracks where her moment of bare emotion shone. A moment ticked by, voices growing closer.

With a flash of movement, she yanked the blade out of the lifeless body beside her, a sickening squelch that did not seem to rattle her, and turned her back on you. Surely she had to be more selfish than this?

“Abigail–”

“Be silent and stay behind me.”

Your voice sank down into an urgent whisper. “Your recklessness is going to get you killed.”

Her head turned toward you then, her gaze meeting yours. Blue flame, a flicker of pure torment. 

“You have already made me your accomplice.” They should have been sweet, simple words, but they held the acrid tang of rotting fruit, bitter and wilting despite their saccharine nature.

They were encircling you in an instant, guards wearing the colours of the sun and the moon. Their swords were raised, but they waited for something…

The guards parted, roiling ocean waves. You watched as your brother stepped his way to the front, head held high.

Without a single word, Abigail dropped to her knees, the blade clanging against the floor and skidding away from her to rest at his feet.

Your brother did not spare her a glance. His eyes pinned you in place, cold and measured. He did not ask about the commotion or point grieving eyes towards his closest advisor. No, he already decided on what truth in this he would spin and alter in order to squash you beneath his bejewelled hand. 

As he stared you down, you gazed at the back of Abigail’s neck, peach-toned skin peaking beneath the cascade of blonde waves over her shoulders. You wanted to reach out, to touch her one last time if only to bid farewell.

Such a rotten heart you had. You felt it thump mournfully, greed winning out in the end. 

Your lips remained tightly locked as she took the fall for your turpitude, an act of the foulest betrayal.

As you watched them drag her away, you may as well have been clapping the chains around her wrists yourself. 

Who knew that even a blade of the soul could be double-edged?

#kinda rusty so don’t mind the inconsistency 😭 #abby anderson #knight!abby #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou #abby the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us #tw blood

[sleepytownzzz]

aftermath.

#tw: blood #i won’t even lie #im really proud of this one #fan art #digital art #art #drawing #the last of us #the last of us part 2 #tlou 2 #tlou art #abby anderson #abby anderson fanart #lev tlou #lev tlou2 #abby and lev #maybe one day i’ll color this properly #some of the proportions are a little wonky but it’s okay <3 #tumblr always ruins the quality though it’s so sad 😭 #like i swear my art is good quality #sleepytownzzzart

[chappellroansdreamgirl]

ellie with a partner with bfrbs.

a/n - sorry if these are out of character i'm mostly just projecting 🤗🤗

i just want to say to all my bfrb babes that ellie loves and helping in any way she can.

- if she notices that you're about to pick, she'll take her hands in yours and try to distract you from the urge.

- if you're the type of person that needs to get things off your chest, she'll listen to you so very attentively until the feeling doesn't feel as intense anymore.

- and if you're not:

she'll either talk your ear off about the latest comics she's reading or anything that comes to mind. i know she's less talkative in the second game but i fully believe that she'd be as conversational as she could in situations like this.

- if you have trichotillomania (projecting! :3) she'll make sure you don't feel AS insecure about your bald spots or your scabs. girlie is a GOD at making eye contact but i feel like she would do it more often as a subtle way of letting you know that she's not disgusted by your lack of lashes/eyebrows. don't know if this is too ooc but i want this woman to caress my baldspots.

- onto skin picking! she'll definitely help you out with tasks that involve your hands if it's mainly revolving around your fingers. she'll clean your scabs for you whether you can do it yourself or not.

- i feel like she wouldn't quite understand the fact that bfrb's are a REPETITIVE DISORDER and they're quite hard to stop so i feel like she would get mad at herself if you relapsed and blame herself for a while but she'd never get mad at you.

i had more in the first draft but tumblr is A DICK! (@staff i'm under your bed.) but to my babes with bfrbs i love you and ELLIE loves you and YOU'RE NOT DISGUSTING OR HIDEOUS OR LESS OF A PERSON - ani<3

#ellie x fem reader #ellie x abby #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson fic #abby anderson smut #abby tlou #abby anderson #bfrb #bfrb tw #bfrb awareness #trichotillomania #skin picking #ani's episode #ani's ellie🎀

[zombholic]

WEIRD LOVE STORY — instagram

— 🎧　　 ◦ ✺ 　 📽　 ⟢ —

— 🎧　　 ◦ ✺ 　 📽　 ⟢ —

authors note — yall, i started this at 11pm … ITS FUCKING 5AM DUDE YALL DONT KNOW HOW MUCH EDITING I HAD TO DO 😭😭🙏🏼also wanna give creds 2 @atomicami for helping me bully emerson !!

tag list — @xmycxx @hi2647 @uraesthete @milahnoz @venusloveshim @chaoticla @lizzieebie @whore4abby

#lesbian #lgbtq #wlw #the last of us ii #abby anderson #the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson x reader #abby the last of us 2 #abby the last of us #abby anderson smau #tlou smau #smau #emerson slander #south asian #tw owen #doctor!abby

[seraphicsentences]

can’t stop thinking about ellie williams fucking you with her knife bc of the heady way you look at her when she plays around with it in her hand.

ellie williams x female reader. tlou universe.

AN: i just needed to write this. just look at the pictures. pov her muscles flexing and glistening with sweat while fucking into you.

tags: knife fucking, minor degrading, just as much praise?, smut bc what else.

“shit-you this fuckin’ desperate for me? takin’ my knife like the fucking whore you are.”

your persistent moans broke with every thrust of her knife into you, handle just thick enough to fill you up perfectly, slight ridge on its end rubbing tight up against your walls.

“look at your pretty pussy gripping my knife. you’re making such a mess all over it. look.”

you looked down to confirm ellie’s tellings and- shit, you really were dripping everywhere. your wetness sopped out with every move, making squelching sounds just as often as your moans.

“fuck, ellie”, you whimpered as she hit a particularly sensitive spot in you.

“aw, you gonna cum? you got it baby— show me how good i’m making you feel.”

~ i just know ellie had the cockiest fucking smirk on her face watching you completely fucked out on her knife. bet ya she’s gonna kill someone with that same knife the next day. bet ya she’ll think of you the entire time.

#tlou #tlou2 #wlw #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams smut #smut #the last of us #lesbian #knifeplay #knife kink #tw knife #ellie williams x you #ellie x fem reader #sapphic

[salemsimss]

"I'm not going to fight you." "Yes, you will."

Unedited gift for you <3

#salemsimss.sims #zosia zielinska #ss:renders #ss:edits #the sims #the sims 4 #the sims 4 edit #the sims 4 render #ts4 #ts4 edit #ts4 render #i admit i was inspired by TLOU2 #had one too many abby and ellie edits on my fyp #i took matters into my own hands #and wanted to play around with zosia's updated look #you also get masked zosia as a treat #tw: blood #sim: zosia

[aeirithgainsborough]

#same energy THE LAST OF US PART TWO (2020) → THE LAST OF US HBO (2023)

#asjkajska she loves 2 make him feel old LMAO its incredible #i love them so much u dont understand there could never be enough words #flashing tw #the last of us spoilers #tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #hbo tlou #hbotlou #tlouhbo #the last of us part 2 #tlouedit #tloudaily #ellie williams #joel miller #elliewilliamsedit #joelmilleredit #tvedit #wow the show scene was garbage 2 colour i respect the aesthetic to a post apocalyptic world but WEW #** #MY BABIES I LOVE THEM

[saved-room]

ellie stans when she brutally murders someone in cold blood 🛐

#🎵 : Glock In My Lap - 21 Savage #(it’s me i’m ellie stans) #ellie my knife wife #lets go lesbians #forever obsessed with the scene she kills nora #theres a part it gets so fucking laggy #idk why i’m sorry #cw flashing #cw flickering #tw flashing #tw flickering #ellie williams #ashley johnson #joel miller #gaming edit #troy baker #the last of us #the last of us hbo #video edit #ellie tlou #tlou hbo #tlou2 #tlou #the last of us part 2 #the last of us 2

[ellieabbyy]

#ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #lesbian #ellie williams pictures #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou #tlou photomode #ellie photomode #tlou ellie #tlou no return #ellie williams lockscreens #ellie williams lock screens #ellie x reader #ellie williams icons #ellie smut #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #tlou part 2 #the last of us part 2 #tlou2 #the last of us #tlou #no return #photomode #ps5 #ellie williams wallpapers #cw blood #tw blood

[myrkkymato]

Santa Barbara Ellie

#ellie williams #santa barbara ellie #Tw blood #tw gun #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #tlou2 #the last of us part 2 #fan art #tlou fanart #ellie fanart #myrkkymato art #illustration #markers #coloured pencils #mixed medium

[sleepytownzzz]

an eye for an eye.

#tw: blood? #i’ve had this concept(?) in my head for awhile #didn’t turn out my exactly like i hoped? #but it’s decent? i think? #currently working on a fully rendered abby piece so hopefully i’ll have that done soon :) #tlou2 art #fan art #digital art #art #drawing #the last of us #the last of us part 2 #abby anderson fanart #tlou 2 #tlou art #abby anderson #ellie williams #ellie williams fanart #ellie the last of us #sleepytownzzzart

[nyahobi]

i miss my wife

#the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou #my art :3 #artwork #digital drawing #digital art #art #tlou #tlou2 #tw blood #i miss my father joel too. #joel miller

[iris0-0]

I promise I’m here.

Mom!Tess Servopoulos x sh!daughter reader

Synopsis: Tess, your mother has always given you tough love. Trying to raise you to be respectful and grateful. Though when hard times fall upon you, you cannot seem to tell your mother as you feel she will see you as weak and pathetic.

Warnings: Tess being soft, reader is referred to in more female pronouns, blood, mentions of depression, mentions and descriptions of self harm, I do not encourage this behavior and am here for anyone <3 this is definitely not personal

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Familiar sounding music invaded the current deep sleep you were in. Eyes fluttering open, before quickly closing them due to the early morning light invading through the blinds.

The door opens and you feel a harsh pat on your back, “Cmon kid, gotta catch the bus.” Tess says, making sure you’re awake before leaving the room.

Getting up you looked at the old digital clock on the nightstand that read 6:40 a.m. Fuck. If you didn’t pick up the pace there would be another tardy slip with your name on it, and with that a scold from your mother.

Grabbing whatever pants were on the desk chair and a shirt you grab the same black zip-up jacket you took everyday…to hide the scars. Thankfully your mother Tess wasn’t very noisy as long as you didn’t give any “teenage attitude” was what she liked to call it. So she never really picked up on your habits

Self-harm wasn’t something you were proud of. It started 3 years ago when you were 13. Middle school was an absolute bitch, not to mention the other struggles that have happened in the meantime. You tried to get clean….but it never lasted long, it was a tough battle.

Slipping on the jacket and grabbing your book bag you go down the stairs to grab a banana or some shit to say you ate breakfast. Tess was brewing a cup of coffee before she herself was off to work. She eyed you up and down a bit before smirking to herself. Annoyed you give her a look that basically said ‘what?’.

“When’s the last time you washed that jacket?” She asked. “You were it practically everyday.” Walking towards you she tried to get closer to at least make sure it smelled clean, as teenagers could be lazy or dirty sometimes.

Not wanting her to move the jacket in case of any risk of exposing what was below you responded in a bantering manner to try and keep up your cool act. “Mom! Stop it! I washed it this week.” You smile dodging her grasp and walking to the door to catch the bus.

“If you say so.” She shrugs. “Go learn and shit.”

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

School. Highschool sophomore to be specific. Grades weren’t that much of a problem, you were told you were ‘a smart kid’. Having average level classes and a work ethic (sometimes) helped. It wasn’t the work, it was the people.

Once again for English there was a project. Why do English teachers have a project nobody likes every week? Everyone got up and looked around to choose partners…nobody chose you. Shocker. ‘Okay, who cares? I’ll do it myself as usual.’ You thought.

But of course it wasn’t okay. Depression shuffled your mind again replaying old scenarios and listing reasons why none of the other kids wanted to work with you.

Putting headphones on and shuffling random shit, mainly tv girl you got to work and try to forget but to no avail. Taking a break in the middle to go to the bathroom.

Always keeping a blade handy you sit in the bathroom stall. ‘Why am I doing this again? Don’t really know don’t really care.’ You think.

Taking the jacket off halfway the view of the old and fresh marks come into place. It was never enough. Addicted was the word, but it’s perfectly fine isn’t it?

‘Doing what I do best.’ Sliding the blade like it was a damn hobby. Did it sting? Maybe a little but the relief was too strong, it overpowered any pain. That was, until you zoned out. Going deeper, was it intentional? Who knows.

Hitting a vein blood trickled down, quicker than the cuts before that would stop bleeding soon. There was too much. And of course depression comes with anxiety. How come you were fine mutilating yourself but the moment you got dizzy all hell broke loose. I need to get out.

Quickly thinking of an excuse out of habit you called the only person you had, your mom. Were you dying of blood loss? Hell no. But you were on the verge of passing out and eating shit on the schools bathroom floor.

The phone rang a few times.

“Please..please..please.” You mutter.

T: “Hello? Im in a meeting did you butt dial me again?” Your mom Tess says, a bit confused.

“I need you to pick me up, please.”

T: “Kid, I’m in the middle of a meeting.” She sighs, though she hears the panic in your voice. “If it means that much to ya I’ll getchu right after, in maybe half an hour?”

“Okay.” You respond swallowing your tears.

T: “You cryin kid?” She asks suddenly concerned.

“No.” You deny, and you can hear her sigh from the other end.

T: “I’ll get you in a bit.” She said sternly.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

About a half an hour passed. The bleeding was under control but you were weak as hell. Loosing blood was no joke, dizzy and nauseating to say the least. ‘I think I just lost more blood than a period.’ You thought.

A text from your mom saying she’s here and you signed out at the front office, slightly swaying in your steps as you walk the short walk from the front of the school to the car.

Tess was sitting, hand on the steering wheel. The glint from the sun shining just over the scar under her eye. You couldn’t read her face. Was she pissed about picking you up two hours into the school day and about you interrupting her meeting. Regardless you opened the car door.

“Thank you.” Was the only thing spoken and Tess nodded to the action keeping her eyes forward as she drove the two of you home.

Walking in the house Tess put up her keys. You tried to sneak upstairs. “Nope. Come back.” Tess said sternly before pointing to the couch. “Sit.”

Annoyed but not trying to test your mother, you sat your ass back down. “Tell me why I picked you up.” She asked and you just shrugged looking at the floor.

“That’s not an answer and you know it. I love you and I’m trying not to be upset with you but kid, I need to know. You called me in the middle of a meeting you knew I was in crying.” Tess said, a bit stern.

“It doesn’t even matter.” You say a bit annoyed at the persistence and not having an answer to the question that you wanted to tell her.

“Look at me.” She says, as you look straight at the ground. “I just didn’t feel good.” You say looking her in the eye, it was hard. She had the type of eyes that made you spill everything.

Staring felt like forever her eyes narrowing, until your left eye twitched. “You’re lying.” She says crossing her arms over her chest. “No I’m not.” Your eye twitches again, betraying you.

“Yes you are! Your eye is twitching like Nemo’s fucking special fin.” Tess responded. “How the hell would you even know if I was lying? You’re always gone!”

“Language! I’m gone providing for you!” The two of you yelled back and forth for ages. Slowly but surely you were growing enraged. Having bipolar disorder and anger issues Tess knew you needed to calm down before you passed out.

“Okay come on you need to calm down.” She says strictly but assuringly. Even though she was upset with the argument as well she didn’t want it to get worse with you passing out for continuing to dig your nails into your arms.

She took ahold of your shoulders and began to guide you to your room. And shortly after being alone you’d calm down and she’d come back and the two of you would talk it out.

But…that did not happen this time. As she tried to move you, you resisted. “Hey stop. Calm down.” She said trying to grab your arms as you tried to get out her reach. With the fresh cuts and the excessive deep one a whine of pain was let out.

Tess paused momentarily and debated on backing off, but she didn’t. You had been acting different and were on the verge of a panic attack.

With harsh short breaths through go your nose you knew there was nothing else you could do to hide anymore, you were too weak. “What’s hurtin’ hm?” Tess states touching your hands, shoulders, and head gently.

But when she glides over your arms you bit your lip. Razor burn was hitting hard. “Okay let’s get this off..” she mumbles slowly taking the jacket off after she sat you down on the couch.

“Oh honey…” was all Tess could say, staring at the cuts, scars, deep, and shallow. She tries to comfort you but too shaked up and overstimulated. “Okay okay.” Tess backs off, leaving for a short moment to grab the random first aid crap in the bathroom.

She comes back and cleans very carefully, trying not to upset or overstimulate you. As well as to not hurt you. “Breath baby.” She holds your face softly trying to calm you down.

After awhile the cleaning and wrapping is done. It was safe to say Tess could understand why. You had bad bipolar disorder and meltdowns. “Why didn’t you tell me hm?” She asks sitting next to you.

“Cause I didn’t want to worry you and give you more trouble cause it started when dad left and-“ You couldn’t finish beginning to sob.

She pulls you into her tightly and holds you. Quietly shh’ing you, cradling you like a baby. “I’m here I’m not going anywhere. I’m not him.”

Tess holds onto you as you fall asleep. And she’ll always be there for you.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

THIS TOOK FOREVER OVER A WEEK I GOT STUCK. Anyways happy birthday to me <3 Love you stay safe.

#imagine #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us part 2 #comfort #depressing shit #tw sh related #tess tlou #tess servopoulos #tlou tess #scenarios #oneshot

[oph3liatlou]

— YOU’RE NOT FINE

pairing(s) - drunk!joel miller x comforting!reader

word count - 1,420

warnings - light cursing, lots of angst, mentions of alcohol and being drunk, mentions of death / trauma, verbal argument, non direct mentions of suicide.

proofread? - yes

note from author - i hope this does justice

summary - joel is grieving on sarah’s birthday, years after her death. he drinks way too much and comfort ensues.

You and Tommy were both well aware of Joel’s seasonal depression and how severe it got - usually a few days before Sarah’s birthday.

While it never tended to be too concerning, you knew that something was especially off - your gut feeling didn’t help soothe your anxiety either.

A sneaking suspicion that Joel wasn’t in a good state of mind whatsoever, caused you to go to his house. You didn’t even bother knocking, that’s how worried you were.

You opened the door gently, knowing he probably hadn’t locked it - you were met by the strong smell of bourbon in the air.

He heard the door and spoke to you from the couch, a bottle in his hand. “The…hell d’ya…w-want?” He grumbled drunkenly.

You sighed. “Jesus Joel…” You started as you let the door close behind you.

“I haven’t seen you all day, I was worried you-“ But I didn’t finish my sentence - knowing what he had tried to do all those years ago.

I looked around the house now, waiting for him to speak. I noticed it’s mess. The empty bottles everywhere…

He looked at you before the next bout of words escaped him. “I’m fi…just fin-..” He couldn’t even speak properly.

He tried his best to maintain a level-headed tone and remain in control of the situation. It was a clear struggle given his current state.

His fingers wrapped around the bottle as he took a swig. “Leave…”

You had been friends for a few years now so, you had seen Joel in his anual depressed states a few times.

You shook your head responding to him. “No.” You stated. “I’m not going anywhere - not with you like this.”

Joel watched as you moved toward the couch, sitting at the opposite end. His expression showed clear disapproval. “I’m f-fine, alright?!”

Your presence likely triggered him in this state, but the alcohol exacerbated his feelings ten-fold. Despite his irritation, he knew you were coming from a place of concern - not that he would admit that.

He took another swig of bourbon, and tried to adjust his position on the couch.

You looked at him with sheer concern. “You’re not fine, Joel.” You tried to keep your voice calm, but you were getting more and more agitated with his words.

You knew what you were going to say next would cause an argument - but he needed to hear it.

“…would she really want you to be grieving her like this?”

Joel’s eyebrows narrowed at the unexpected reference to his daughter.

He lowered the bottle and gave you a look of dissatisfaction at such an inopportune time - he wanted nothing more than to be alone, and drown his sorrows.

“Don’t.” He warned you.

He trailed off, then took another sip - clearly not wanting to engage in this conversation anymore.

You shook your head again as you turned your body to face him.

“You know that I’m right - she wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

His gaze shifted away from you, as he couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes.

“J-jus’, leave me be…go home…”

He was quick to dismiss your remarks and how his current state of his mind made him feel in regards to your intervention.

His hand found the bottle once more, bringing it with him as he scooted away from you.

“Joel, please…” You sighed with worry. He was just as stubborn as you, if not more so.

You stood abruptly and snagged the bottle from his hands and started pouring it down the kitchen sink. “If you won’t help yourself - I’ll just make it easier.” You left the empty bottle in the sink.

“I tried to comfort you, but clearly that’s not working.” You were frustrated and just wanted him to vent to you - anything but denying how he was feeling.

He watched as you took the bourbon, and emptied it in the sink. His blood boiled as he watched his only coping mechanism get chucked down the drain. “Oh, reall-?!”

He trailed off. “I can take care of myself!”

You turned on your heel and pointed a finger towards him.

“No you can’t!” You were pissed now, more so because he worried you.

“I get it Joel - you miss her immensely but, drinking until you shit-the-bed isn’t taking care of yourself!”

Joel winced at your harsh words feeling them strike a raw nerve - he couldn’t even deny that it was true. “I don’t need your help…”

He shifted his legs while on the couch, turning to face you with a tinge of annoyance mixed with regret. “I…w- don’t need anyone’s help on this!”

You sighed before crouched in front of him. “Please…” You mumbled, pausing to reach for his hand. “Let me help you…”

The contact with your fingers made him instinctively shudder. He didn’t want the comfort or the sympathy - to feel like a burden. Especially to you.

He tried to pull his hand away but decided against it. “I…I jus’ nee-…”

He paused, realizing his words of defiance. He could feel his emotions bubbling as he fought against them - tears welded in his eyes. “…I need…her back!”

You didn’t respond, you just pulled him into a hug.

Joel didn’t fight back against your hug, he simply folded into your embrace as he was reduced to tears.

“I jus’…I just want it to st-stop!” He sniffled, his voice breaking as he spoke.

He tried to keep his emotions reserved, but he couldn’t deny the cathartic effect of someone listening without judgement or comments.

You pulled away from he hug, but you still stayed close to him. “You don’t have to hide your feelings from me…it’s okay to feel things, Joel.”

Joel’s emotions continued to get the best of him, he tried his best to reign them in - but the floodgates had already been torn open. “I’m…I’m sick of…”

He took a brief moment to find his words, taking a breath to compose himself as he tried to maintain his dignity in front of you. “I can’t…keep feeling empty because of her loss…”

You understood what he felt. Loss was a big part of this world now - nothing ever lasted. “It’s always going to hurt but…it gets easier.” You continued. “Especially if you stop blaming yourself…it’s not your fault, what happened.”

Joel’s heart felt some amount of warmth at your words, as they gave him hope for the future - but they also caused him to feel somewhat conflicted, given that he was unable to accept the fact that there were people who cared.

He didn’t fight back as you spoke, as he simply looked down at the floor - listening intently to your advice. “I…I know you’re right…”

“Do you want to talk more about it…” You asked gently looking at him. You were there to listen, help and to care. “…or maybe you should just rest?” You suggested.

He took a few moments to contemplate your question, considering his options. But he was done talking. “I think…I…I jus’ wanna’ get some sleep.” He tone was tired and weak, it was clear he needed to sleep off his current state.

You stood to help him up, clearly he couldn’t walk in his drunken state.

Joel let your assistance guide him towards his bedroom. He felt weak in his legs, but he didn’t argue against your help. The weight of grief took a serious toll on him. As you both entered the room, Joel sat on the bed and immediately fell into it with a sigh.

You moved back into the doorway of the bedroom before you spoke. “Ok, goodnight then. I’ll um, I’ll come back to check on you in the morning. Ok?”

Joel’s head rested against the pillow, but his eyes remained open - he wasn’t able to fall asleep yet as his mind was still racing. “S-stay, if you want…” He offered with more clarity.

But, you shook your head. You knew all too well that staying, was a bad idea. “I’ll just come back in the morning.”

He was reluctant to dismiss your presence and offer, but he knew your actions made the most sense. “Fine, I’ll get…some sleep.” His eyes closed with a weak yawn, and his breathing grew heavy as he fell into a deep sleep.

You watched him for a moment before turning his light off and shutting his door - leaving his home with the strong smell of bourbon still lingering.

#joel miller is still hot when he’s sad #writing #oneshot #request #reqs open #tlou #tlou2 #joelmiller #joel miller #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #drunk #drunk thoughts #im drunk #getting drunk #tw drinking #angst #light angst #sarah miller #comfort #comforting #Spotify