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hii !! i saw that you want some requests so i wanted to ask if you could write an ellie oneshot inspired by shameless by camila cabello 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️ just yk a lot of tension and angst but also a happy ending if that makes sense? i would rlly like that! i love ur writing and have a great night ❣️❣️❣️😘

shameless.

summary: ellie can't get enough of you, but even so, it seems she doesn't want you.

word count: 3.8k

pairing: ellie/fem!reader

cw: cursing, kinda sad not really tho, yelling

tags: @elliesstar , @ellieismami, @shesluxurious , @evanpetersluver , @anchoeritic , @elliephobic , @elliewill

an: i got a little carried away. modern au cause i feel like it. i literally first heard this song on tiktok and really enjoyed it, so thank you for giving me the song name lmfao cause i had no idea. this was fun to write! thank u for the request baby i appreciate it. hopefully it lives up to your expectations! thank u to jay for proofreading love u pookie. enjoy!

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

It’s a simple agreement. No kissing, under any circumstances, ever.

You and Ellie would meet up, help each other out, then go your separate ways. Breaking up with Dina had been a tough call, and it hit her pretty hard, from what you could tell. She wasn’t interested in relationships after that point, just occasionally wanted a hookup.

The first time was maybe six months after breaking up with Dina. Was probably more, if you really think about it. Jesse was a good sport trying to be in both of their corners. You weren’t too close with Dina or Ellie and had only occasionally hung out with them before the breakup. Jesse was more your speed since he often third-wheeled when Dina and Ellie were together, so you’d join a hang out with them if he was around. Otherwise, you minded your own business, not wanting to overstep.

When Ellie first followed you on Instagram, you didn’t think much of it. Dina had been following you for a while, but Ellie wasn’t the type to be on her phone very much, if at all. Jesse liked to joke that she took after Joel too much, complaining about how many screens someone can fit in between their face and the wall. The first text was simple, just a reply to your story where you posted a picture of your cat enjoying catnip and a joint in between your fingertips. Ellie had made a little joke, then said you should invite her to the next one. It was subtle– a barely-there request– but sure enough, the next time you had a smoke sesh, Ellie was there in her too-big hoodie and ripped jeans.

“So,” you had said, adjusting yourself next to Ellie on your bed, lighting the blunt between your lips, “Not to be the loser who asks what we are, but what are we?”

She had turned to look at you with a weird little look on her face, one that you couldn’t figure out at the time and still can’t figure out now, but her voice held no room for argument. She had just pulled on her hoodie again, covering her tan skin.

“Friends,” she had murmured, as she watched the smoke pool from your lips, “Good friends.”

And that was that.

Before she had left that night, her hair mussed from your grip on it moments prior, and her hoodie on backward, she’d mentioned the no-kissing rule. You’d shrugged, a big t-shirt covering your figure, your arms crossed over your chest.

“Whatever works for you, Williams.”

You had put the hood up over her face and laughed at her deadpan expression once it fell back down.

And that was that.

It wasn’t a big deal, Ellie had figured. You were an acquaintance, someone who easily fit the group, someone who was hot and funny and Ellie’s type. She’d thought it over after you had mentioned once in conversation that you typically don’t go for relationships, and she had thought it was a good idea. She knew, deep down, that if you were to hold up on that end of the bargain, plus the no-kissing thing, everything would be fine. She wouldn’t fall for you, and she’d keep you at arm's length until she couldn’t handle it anymore. It would be fine.

(It was not fine.)

Ellie had been avoiding you for a few weeks now, dodging your texts and running off when you caught her at the cafe where you worked. It had gotten to a point where you eventually muted her number, in case she did text back so you didn’t have to deal with replying. It was starting to get annoying, the way she pretends you don't exist after getting her fill. Last time had been nice; she’d wanted to go to the park and watch the stars, and smoke, of course. You’d enjoyed yourself, joking back and forth with her till she got needy enough to kiss the side of your neck.

She hated asking for it, liked to take it instead, but you were persistent. You’d move your head to the side, a little smirk on your lips, her eyes growing big and wide, her pretty pink lips sporting a pout.

Thinking about it, now, you realize it must’ve been what you said after that made her all weird. It wasn’t awful, at least you didn’t think it was, but it’s the only real explanation for her behavior the last couple of weeks. You curse quietly under your breath, pausing your cleaning task as you close up the cafe, your eyes darting around the espresso machine in front of you as you try to piece this together.

She’d given you that look, and you just couldn't help yourself– it had slipped so easily past your lips that it was like your tongue was made to utter those words.

“Oh, look at my girl,” you had muttered, placing the burning joint between her lips. Her eyes were glazed over practically instantly, but they had dropped to your lips momentarily, like an impulse. You hadn’t put two and two together at the time, but thinking about that night when you’re sober really works wonders.

“Fuck me,” you sigh, hanging your head, wondering how you were gonna confront her about this. That wasn’t your strongest suit, but clearly, Ellie was worse.

It had been eight months since Ellie and Dina broke up, and she was over it now. She had been on the verge of it when she first proposed the friends-with-benefits thing with you. She’d watched the way you went about life, so unafraid of being alone, and she’d envied it. It was a sick, little green monster in her heart, a constant reminder that she was nothing like that. If it wasn’t Joel as a kid, it was Cat. If it wasn’t Cat, it was Dina. She just wanted to be her own person. To exist as herself, to be with someone without giving every piece of herself to them in the hope that they’d stay.

You were so patient. So understanding. It had thrown her for a loop, the way you took her words, or her requests, or the way you just didn’t care what she did. It was a mutual understanding for the most part; an understanding that she wasn’t prepared for anything, but she still wanted a friend. More than a friend, less than a lover.

It wasn’t usually your territory to confront anyone, and as much as it had annoyed you, it hurt. She was your friend. She talked to you and listened to you, she’d tell you facts about space and you’d tell her how lame she was for knowing it all. But you’d remember it anyway, and you’d mention something NASA tweeted every once and a while, just to get her to talk about it again.

You sighed, knocking on her front door. It was a shame, really, to have to come over just to talk to her, but if she didn’t want to do it herself, you didn’t have a choice.

The door swung open to reveal a very sweaty and very angry Ellie Williams, her hair pushed back out of her forehead. Her hands are wrapped, and your mouth runs a bit dry. Her eyebrows furrow and she clears her throat.

“Hey?” She says, her confusion evident in her voice, and you scoff. You nod your head towards the interior of her apartment, raising an eyebrow at her.

“You gonna let me in or what?” You ask, the exhaustion of a ten-hour shift collapsing onto your shoulders. Ellie bites her lip and eventually nods, though she doesn’t seem too excited, and creates a path for you to walk into her apartment. You sigh, glancing at her patio where her punching bag is still swinging. You try not to think about why she’s so bothered, and instead worry yourself with putting your bag and apron down on her entryway table. You toss your car keys somewhere in the mix while Ellie closes up shop.

Ellie sighs through her nose, glancing over at you every so often as she unwraps her hands. She’d hoped she could have at least a little more time to deal with her feelings, but even so, it wouldn't have been fair to you. She knew that her bullshit was going to eventually seep through the floorboards and drown you both, but she didn’t think it would happen so quickly. She rolls up the wrap and puts it away, taking a deep breath when she enters the apartment again.

It wasn’t the first time she’s had you over, and you know your way around the place. She takes note of the candle you lit, the one you got her after she ran out of the last one. It had been on sale, and you figured she’d like it, but it was a piece of you in her place that she grew very attached to very quickly.

“So,” she mumbles, leaning against the counter in her kitchen, trying to look anywhere but you, “What’s up?”

Her obliviousness is pissing you off more than usual, but you take a breath to calm yourself. Instead of scoffing, you take in the sight of her, her dark gray sports bra and black shorts hugging her frame perfectly. It makes you self-aware, suddenly, that you’re in your work clothes. She stands a little straighter, feeling your eyes on her.

“You’ve been MIA, Williams,” you say, just a tad bit exasperated, just a tad bit upset, “What’s up with you?”

She tenses, her shoulders flexing under the stress, and rolls her neck. You watch her with tired eyes, your head swimming with too many thoughts, feeling less relaxed and carefree than you normally do.

You try really hard, always rolling with the punches, always riding the goddamn wave. It’s a pain to expect anything from anyone– a disappointment. Everyone is such a disappointment, and there’s no use getting your hopes up. It’s not like you were expecting much from her, just for Ellie to be a friend.

“Nothing,” she says, shrugging her shoulders, doing that shutting down bullshit, “Just got a lot on my mind.”

You nod, humming, playing her little game.

“Like what?”

She squints like she wasn’t expecting you to ask, like she’s surprised you actually did. You stare back, unfazed.

“Just– stuff, I don’t know.” She sighs, glancing off to the side, not wanting to hold your gaze anymore.

“Really?” You ask, pushing further, “Would this ‘stuff’ have anything to do with what I said during our last little encounter?”

She rolls her head to the side, pushes herself off the counter, and walks to her fridge. She rips it open, pretends to look for something, then grabs a water bottle. She doesn’t say anything yet, just takes a swig, and lets some water dribble down her chin. You watch, stubborn, as you wait for her to quit dancing around the subject.

“Jesus,” she mutters, placing the bottle on the counter, “Yes, it did. You happy you got it right?”

Her attitude makes you roll your eyes.

“I don’t give a fuck about being right, Williams,” you say, your voice a little louder now at the sheer audacity of Ellie fucking Williams, “I give a fuck about you. You could’ve said that it bothered you.”

She shrugs her shoulders again, throwing her hands up like it doesn’t even matter.

“What did you want me to say? ‘Sorry, when we have sex can you not call me yours? Makes it a little goddamn awkward when we’re just friends’?” She exclaims, looking at you like you have two heads.

“That’s a start, Ellie,” you snap at her, and she freezes when you say her name, her eyebrows pinching. “You’re not the only one with feelings here, y’know. You’re my friend.”

She stills at the statement, the emphasis of the word ‘friend’. She’s called you that countlessly, but hearing you say it with so much certainty makes her uneasy. She shifts, ‘cause it just doesn’t sound right, and the realization makes her feel sick. She shakes her head quickly, suddenly overwhelmed, suddenly scared.

“Leave,” she says, her voice barely loud enough for you to hear, but you do hear it. It makes you still, even your fingers don’t twitch. The fear is ice cold as it drops down her spine, and she can’t bring herself to look at you. She does the only thing she can think of; she pushes you away.

“What?” You ask, your voice quiet like you don’t believe what you’re hearing. Part of you doesn’t, in all honesty. Ellie’s never been one to back down, never one to slam the door in someone’s face. Especially not your face.

“Just– Leave!” She yells, throwing her arm up to the general direction of the door, “Get the fuck out! We’re not friends, okay? You’re–” She pauses, shakes her head again like she can’t make up her mind, then says, “I’m done with you.”

That last part makes your heart drop. ‘I’m done with you.’ Like you’re some toy she’s now bored with, like she’s gotten what she wanted and now it’s all done. Like you’re nothing, like you’ve been nothing this whole time. A laugh bubbles up before you can even help it, tears pricking at your eyes, but you refuse to cry. You grab your things quickly, and Ellie doesn’t move to stop you, even if her hands twitch, and her legs falter. She doesn’t try.

“Fuck you.” Is all you say, but even then, it's a broken little thing. A barely-whisper, just something to say so you have the last word. She lets you keep it, and when you leave her apartment, you don’t stick around to hear her yell ‘Fuck!’ at nobody and nothing.

And that was that.

Ellie becomes a bit of a ghost after that. Whether or not she means to, you have no clue. But you have an appreciation for it; not having to pretend you’re doing fine is a weight off of your shoulders. That carefree attitude is a shield you wear, a buffer between emotions, something you use to move between the people in your life. The way people flock to you for something so minute, so temporary– are you that temporary? It’s a headache and a half to even think about.

Seeing Ellie at parties was a trip. She’d look so okay, so good. Like she doesn’t lose sleep at all, never will lose sleep over you, like she’s fine.

Ellie doesn’t know how badly she fucked up until she sees you the first time after you left her apartment. It’s not like she forgets what you look like. How could she?

Jesse drags you to a party. It’s been a month, maybe, since you and Ellie fought. It’s enough time that you don’t really do much when you see her; you stare a little longer than you’d like to, and she smiles a little too much than she’s supposed to, and you think about her before bed. A resentment slowly builds, little building blocks falling from the sky, but it builds. Soon enough, she’s not Ellie anymore. She’s just Williams, just some girl you met through Jesse. Just some girl who made you feel a little too much, a little too fast.

You see her after a couple of hours, dressed in a button-up you remember wearing once, and the memory makes you flush. You blame it on the alcohol because you’ll never blame yourself, and make yourself another drink. It’s about to be the time of the night where you leave, but you know Jesse will complain about you leaving without telling him, so you attempt to find him. It gets you knocked into someone’s chest, a pretty girl with short black hair and pale skin, who grabs your waist before you even have a chance to apologize.

You look at her, raising your brow.

“Sorry about that!” You yell over the music, but her hands are firm where they rest. She smiles a smile that looks nothing like Ellie’s, and it makes your skin crawl. You attempt to move away, but she keeps you still.

“Why don’t you dance with me?” She replies, but it feels less like a question and more like a demand, so you forcibly step back, pushing her hands off. You throw her a dirty look for good measure and tell her to back off, but she’s not convinced.

“Don’t be such a fucking bitch–”

In hindsight, that shouldn’t have been the reason you punched her, but unfortunately, Ellie has your patience wearing thin, even when you haven’t spoken to her in a month. It’s not your fault, really, when this girl’s nose starts bleeding, or when your knuckles start throbbing. You don’t even realize someone’s pulling you out of the building until your face meets the cold air, until Ellie is pulling you into an alley and asking, “What the fuck was that?”

You giggle to yourself, cradling your hand, and jerk yourself out of her hold. Your eyes meet hers, and it pisses you off that you missed them.

“Fuck off.” You mutter, pushing a few strands of hair out of your face. Her jaw sets, and her eyes narrow.

“Was she fucking with you? Did she touch you?” She interrogates, her shoulders tensing with every word that leaves her mouth, and the mere concept makes you boil.

“Are you serious?” You question, scoffing at her after the fact. You shake your head, your eyes trailing over her face, lingering on her lips, the one thing you promised you’d never touch. The one thing she wouldn't talk about, the one thing you wanted the most. She takes a step back, like you might punch her, too.

“Why the fuck do you care, Williams?” You let your hand fall limp, your shoulders deflating, “You’re done with me. You had your fun. We’re not friends.”

You echo everything she told you that night, because the only thing those words have been doing this past month has been bouncing around your brain, a constant reminder of what she thinks of you. You watch her wince, and you watch her step closer, and you watch her eyes turn down, like a puppy getting scolded. You watch her, because it’s all you’ve ever done. She takes a chance to look at you, her eyebrows pinched, her lips turned down into a frown.

“I didn’t mean any of that, I just–” She cuts herself off again like she’s scared of giving too much away, “I was scared.”

It makes no sense to you, not really; the alcohol has your chest burning, but you think maybe it might be Ellie, and nobody has ever made you second guess yourself before. Then again, nobody has ever been Ellie, and you don’t think anyone will.

Ellie shifts uncomfortably, watching your expression turn somber, and it jolts her awake. She thinks that maybe she drank too much, thinks that you look too pretty under this streetlamp, or maybe that she wants you more than she thinks she does. It’s just enough for her to lean in, though– close enough that she can smell the perfume you like to wear, and the strawberry chapstick that you don’t leave home without. Your breath hitches in your throat, and when you blink, Ellie’s impossibly closer. The insinuation, the tease of a kiss, makes you angrier, like she’s dangling it in front of your face.

“Like I said,” you mutter, looking into her eyes, “Fuck off, Williams.”

When she sighs her breath out, you can feel it fan over your cheeks. It makes you so warm, and a heat builds in the pit of your stomach when she smirks all sly and charming.

“I don’t want to,” she replies stubbornly, her eyes sparkling, “Please forgive me.”

It’s almost a beg, the way she says it. She doesn’t mean to, but seeing you so angry, so hurt, it makes her ache. She thinks that her loneliness will always sit like a chip on her shoulder, and she knows that you know it, too. She can’t bear the thought– seeing someone else want you struck a nerve with her, and it made her realize too much in too little time.

“No.” You murmur, Ellie’s expression falling to the pits of hell. You lack a finality in your voice, like you know you’re lying when you say it, but Ellie doesn’t know better. She glances at your lips again, how close they are, how she aches for them, and slowly backs up.

“Try again.” You add, and her expression lifts, even the tiniest bit. She nods.

“I will.”

It’s maybe another month of dancing around each other before Ellie works up the courage to face you again. This time, she’s not almost-drunk, and this time, it’s not in a dark alleyway outside of a frat house. This time, she comes to your apartment, with flowers and a stuffed frog plushie, her smile a little lopsided and her eyes worried at the edges.

“May I help you?” You ask, just to be a little pain in her ass, and you stare directly at her face, ignoring the items in her hand. She clears her throat, and shifts where she stands.

“Do you mind if I come in?” She asks, her voice wavering just a bit, her eyes bright with hope and something sweeter. You hum and shrug your shoulders, but move out of the way so she can come in. She does so gingerly, looking around as you close the door. You turn to her, and she faces you, smiling.

“I wanted to apologize,” she starts, looking all over your face, “I figured my shit out.”

It’s everything you want to hear, really, and you can’t stop the little grin pulling at your lips. It makes the tension in her shoulders almost disappear, the relief making her deflate. She holds the flowers and plushie out awkwardly, shrugging her shoulders.

“Got you these,” she mumbles, her ears flushing red, “I hope you like them ‘cause I really could not figure out which to bring you. There were so many.”

You laugh at the honesty and take them from her. You walk over to your kitchen counter and set them down, then make your way back to her, standing close and patient.

“Well, I love them,” you tell her, reaching for her hand. She bites her lip, and she can’t help it when her eyes fall to your lips again.

“Please forgive me.” She echoes those words from a month ago, getting close and comfortable, her nose knocking into yours gently. You can’t help the chuckle you let out, your eyes watching hers.

“I forgive you.”

She barely gives you time to get the words out. Her lips press against yours harshly, her hands coming up to your waist to bring you close. She doesn’t want to be away from them again, doesn’t want to stop kissing you, and it turns out to be everything she’s dreamed of. You grab at her belt loops, closing any distance that dares to come up, and melt. The kiss turns out to be everything you’ve dreamed of, too.

[ID: digital reference of Jayfeather - blind medicine cat from Warriors cats on the light-grey background. He has grey fur with white on his paws, stomach, chest and muzzle. Body covered in dark warm grey stripes, one long stripe is going across the all upper side of the body ending on the tail tip. Fur is getting longer on the butt and is hanging above the right eye. Eyes are empty and blue. Big paws and ears, left one is scratched. Three positions included in one sheet - sitting with his front turned to the viewer, walking to the left and sitting with his back turned to the viewer, showing the tail and profile. The expression is rather grumpy. Author's design notes, signature and colour samples are present. End ID]

And here's my design for Jayfeather.

I gave him a torn ear from his time training as a warrior apprentice. I made him leaner than Holly since I wanted him to look a lot more like Crowfeather in build and because he's a medicine cat. I debated giving him pupils or an iris but I like his empty eyes more. Lionblaze is up next!