Ellie Williams The Last Of Us - Blog Posts

them having a baby was sososososo cute 😭😭 i would like to know what their daughter would be like entering elementary school

Headcannons: professor!ellie williams x reader

masterlist

professor ellie masterlist

☆ Aurora’s first word is “Mama,” but she says it while looking at you—Ellie is fake-offended for weeks.

☆ She has Ellie’s intense green eyes and habit of staring too long when she’s curious.

☆ Aurora clings to you constantly; even as a toddler, she whines when someone else holds her.

☆ Ellie builds her a mini bookcase for baby board books—and Aurora immediately organizes them alphabetically (with help).

☆ Aurora is the kind of baby who needs a strict routine—if you’re even five minutes late for nap or cuddle time, she notices.

☆ She hates when you leave the room. Ellie jokes that you’ve got two wives now.

☆ She calls Ellie “Mama” and you “Mommy,” but if you’re upset or sick, she calls both of you “Mommy” in solidarity.

☆ Aurora shows signs of hyper-intelligence early: solving puzzles meant for kids twice her age.

☆ She loves bedtime stories but gets frustrated when you skip a word—she’s memorized the entire book.

☆ Ellie reads her scientific journals out loud like bedtime stories, and Aurora actually listens.

☆ She mimics Ellie’s mannerisms—crossing her arms, frowning when she concentrates, pacing.

☆ You catch her “lecturing” her stuffed animals in Ellie’s exact voice.

☆ Aurora draws family portraits every week—and you’re always in the center.

☆ She panics if you’re not there to drop her off or pick her up.

☆ Ellie tries to be logical about it but secretly loves how attached Aurora is to you.

☆ Aurora shows early signs of perfectionism—she erases drawings over and over if they’re “not good enough.”

☆ When she throws tantrums, only your voice calms her down. Ellie has to tag you in.

☆ Aurora is incredibly picky about her routine—she wants the same food in the same bowl with the same spoon.

☆ Her favorite word is “actually,” and she uses it to correct adults constantly.

☆ She collects facts like trophies—Ellie makes her flashcards and they study together for fun.

☆ Aurora tests into the gifted program in her first year of school.

☆ She doesn’t like group projects—she prefers doing everything herself because “no one gets it right.”

☆ Teachers say she’s “brilliant, but intense.”

☆ Aurora only talks about two things at school: science and you.

☆ She makes laminated labels for her school supplies like Ellie does with her stationary.

☆ Every art project is somehow about you—she brings home a clay mug with “Mommy #1” carved into it.

☆ She corrects her teacher once in class and becomes slightly feared. Ellie is so proud but warns her to “maybe chill a little next time, baby.”

☆ Aurora wants to skip recess so she can stay in and read.

☆ She keeps a picture of you in her backpack—pulls it out when she gets anxious.

☆ Ellie and Aurora have “study nights” where they work quietly side by side—same posture, same concentration.

☆ Aurora watches you cook and scribbles notes like it’s a culinary lecture.

☆ She insists on helping you clean the house but gets mad if things aren’t organized to her standard.

☆ You call her your “tiny professor” and she beams every time.

☆ Aurora and Ellie both hover when you’re tired or sick—like you’re the sun and they’ve lost orbit.

☆ They fight over who gets to sit next to you on the couch.

☆ Ellie gets petty when Aurora gets more cuddles. Aurora gets smug.

☆ Aurora likes brushing your hair—she does it methodically, like a ritual.

☆ She sleeps best when curled up beside you, even at age 7.

☆ She draws up “mom schedules” to divide your attention fairly—Ellie cheats her way into extra time.

☆ Aurora reads scientific textbooks for fun.

☆ Ellie teaches her how to use a microscope at age 6.

☆ She becomes obsessed with astronomy after you buy her a star chart.

☆ Aurora cries when she gets a 98 instead of 100.

☆ Ellie talks her down using logic. You soothe her with affection.

☆ She keeps a journal with facts about her “favorite person” (you).

☆ Aurora can’t stand when someone is wrong—she has a meltdown if the teacher mispronounces a word.

☆ She gives book reports like she’s defending a thesis.

☆ Her handwriting is meticulous, just like Ellie’s.

☆ She wins her school’s spelling bee and dedicates the win “to my mommies.”

☆ Aurora doesn’t handle change well—moving a couch makes her cry.

☆ You’re the only one who can help her calm down when she spirals.

☆ She leaves sticky notes with “I love you” on your bathroom mirror.

☆ Ellie keeps a stash of emergency snacks and plushies for when Aurora gets overstimulated.

☆ Aurora talks to you about everything—even stuff she hides from Ellie.

☆ She always wants to know where you are—calls you if you’re late home.

☆ If you travel, she leaves voice memos asking when you’re coming back.

☆ Aurora once stayed up crying because she thought you wouldn’t love her if she failed at something. You reassure her constantly, even years later.

☆ Ellie hugs you tighter at night after watching how much both of you mean to each other.

☆ Aurora and Ellie gang up on you in debates—but it’s always playful.

☆ They both get quiet when they think you’re upset—like they can’t stand disappointing you.

☆ Aurora wears a matching lab coat on Ellie’s “bring your kid to work” day.

☆ She calls the three of you “the brain squad.”

☆ Your fridge is full of Aurora’s detailed school projects—Ellie annotates them like a proud academic.

☆ Aurora copies how Ellie kisses your temple when you’re working.

☆ They both wait up for you if you’re late—even if it’s past bedtime.

☆ When Aurora gets awards, you’re the first person she looks for in the crowd.

☆ Family movie night has to be educational and cozy or she gets annoyed.

☆ You are the center of their universe—both of them would burn the world for you without hesitation.

can you talk more about ellie’s grading and the feedback she gives? i wanna know how intellectual she is insane iq core 💔💔💔

Headcannons: professor!ellie williams x reader

masterlist

professor ellie masterlist

☆ Ellie uses red pens exclusively—not out of malice, but because she thinks it forces you to really see yourself. Her notes aren’t just critiques, they’re personal. “You know this theory, stop playing small” scrawled in the margins feels more like a confession than advice.

☆ She’s the professor everyone is a little scared of until they actually talk to her. Intense in lecture, terrifyingly smart—but she softens when she talks one-on-one. Her voice lowers, her eyes track yours as if she’s cataloguing your brain. She listens like your thoughts matter.

☆ If she sees potential in you, your returned paper ends up looking like a co-written piece. Whole blocks of her handwriting argue or build on your points, sometimes more verbose than your actual body paragraphs.

☆ Her most devastating feedback is always kind. “You hesitated here—why?” or “Don’t dilute a brilliant argument to make it sound ‘acceptable’.” You leave her office hours feeling like you just got psychoanalyzed and inspired.

☆ You notice she always returns your papers last. When you joke about it, she just says, “Yours require more... attention.” Her gaze lingers too long after. You think maybe she’s memorizing your arguments—or your face.

☆ You show up early. She pretends to be annoyed but always saves your favorite chair. Sometimes you catch her looking at your hands while you talk. She taps her pen when she’s holding back something.

☆ “Your phrasing here? Lethal. That’s how you cut through academic fluff.” It’s high praise from Ellie, but it feels like she’s talking about more than your essay.

☆ You don’t know this, but the first time you absolutely killed a complex theory with original thought, she kept a copy. She rereads it sometimes when she’s stuck in her own writing. She’d never tell you—but it’s annotated in the margins with her own thoughts. Like a conversation.

☆ She’ll slide your graded paper toward you and say, “Nice work,” before walking off. You find a sticky note inside later that says:

“Your logic here is brutal. You’d make a terrifying debater. You should come to my next seminar. If you're free.”

☆ If you ever push back on one of her comments (politely), she’ll go silent for a beat too long. Then she’ll smirk, lean back in her chair, and say, “Fair point.” But you catch the flush on her neck.

☆ When you lend her a book you love, she gives it back full of tabs and handwritten notes. Her handwriting shifts depending on emotion: neat when she agrees, sharp when she’s frustrated, small and slanted when something hit her too hard.

☆ She reads between the lines—not just in your essays, but in how you speak. If your writing suddenly lacks fire, she’ll ask, “What happened to your voice?” with more concern than she lets on.

☆ She has a private Spotify playlist titled after your most compelling paper. It’s full of moody, ambient instrumentals that make her think of you pacing a library aisle.

☆ Gives You Optional Extra Assignments That Are Secretly Dates “Analyze this journal article if you want... I’ll be in my office at 6.” She gives you wine after hours and calls it a discussion session.

☆ She never says it aloud, but in her mind, she calls you “Bright girl” or “My sharp one.” Sometimes those almost slip out.

☆ Has a Folder of Your Work. Digitally and physically. Not just because you’re a good student, but because she thinks you're one of the most important thinkers she's taught. It’s her little shrine.

☆ Can't Hide Her Pride When You Speak in Class. Even when she’s trying to stay composed, her eyes flicker with excitement when you raise your hand. Sometimes she smirks when you quote her back to herself.

☆ Touches Her Lip When She Reads Your Work. She doesn’t notice she does this. But whenever a line of yours punches through her, she’ll sit back, pen to her mouth, eyebrows slightly raised, like she’s just been got.

☆ Notices Your Scent. Once, you leaned over her desk and the smell of your perfume clung to her sweater. She wore it again the next day—“by accident.”

☆ You once mentioned a quote from a female philosopher you admire, and Ellie responded a little too coldly. Later you found your copy of that author’s book in her office—full of her annotations. She's studying your mind through what you love.

☆ Writes Feedback That’s Basically Poetry. Sometimes her comments feel like verses. “You bent truth until it screamed—good. Now own it.” You don’t know if she’s flirting or just brilliant.

☆ You Catch Her Staring at You During Lectures. She’ll be mid-lecture and pause just a second too long on you. It makes your stomach flip. She always looks away first.

☆ Hates Giving You Anything Below an A. If your work ever slips, she spends forever writing the feedback. It pains her to mark you down—but she refuses to baby you. You’d never respect her if she did.

☆ Has Dreams About Debating You. Sometimes she jolts awake after a dream where you out-argued her in front of a whole academic panel. She was proud and a little turned on.

☆ Knows Your Favorite Pen. She keeps a matching one in her desk drawer. She says it’s coincidence. It’s not.

☆ She’s the Only One Allowed to Critique You. If someone else in class makes a dismissive comment about your work, Ellie will eviscerate them—politely, devastatingly. You leave class blushing. They leave in silence.

☆ She Has Your Writing Style Memorized. If someone read her a passage of your work out loud, she’d know it was yours immediately—by cadence, syntax, and how you handle commas like you’re carving something open.

☆ Her Voice Softens When She Says Your Name. Even when she’s frustrated or passionate, your name is the one word that always comes out gentle. A pause in a storm.

☆ Writes You Into Her Lectures. Without naming you, she’ll quote your paper in front of the class. “A student once said something that stuck with me…” She knows you know it’s you.

☆ She’d Risk Her Career for You. She hasn't yet. But she’s thought about it. Late at night, with one of your essays open in her lap, wondering if knowing someone’s mind this intimately should feel like falling.

Headcannons: professor!ellie williams x reader

masterlist

professor ellie masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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