I love you so bad queen never stop writing. like ever. you’re the only person I’m relying on 😞. But i was wondering if i could get a Caitlyn and reader where reader does Caitlyn’s makeup while straddling her and it can turn into something spicy afterwards if you want it to
⤷ CLOSE ENOUGH TO KISS ⌇CAITLYN X READER suggestive
You’re perched across Caitlyn’s lap, knees bracketing her thighs, holding her face steady with one hand while the other carefully sweeps a brush along her cheekbone.
She doesn’t move, of course she doesn’t, Caitlyn Kiramman is always in control of her composure, but her eyes flick upward to watch you. You can feel the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath you, how her hands rest politely at her sides instead of touching you. The closeness is enough to make the air heavy.
“Stop staring at me,” you mumble, dipping the brush into a bit more powder.
“I thought the entire point was for me to sit still,” Caitlyn says smoothly, but her lips twitch with amusement. Her voice is lower, softer — intimate in a way that makes your stomach flip.
You try to focus on her eyeliner, but it’s hard when she’s looking at you like that. Like she knows exactly what effect she’s having. Your thumb brushes the corner of her mouth, and her lips part just slightly at the touch.
“Almost done,” you whisper, though your voice comes out tighter than intended.
Her hands finally move. One rests on your hip. The other slides higher, fingers curling around your waist, grounding you to her lap. “Take your time,” Caitlyn murmurs. “I rather like the view.”
The brush falters. Your breath hitches. She notices, of course she does, her smirk softens into something deeper, hungrier.
“Cait…”
Her name is all you manage before she leans forward just a fraction, enough for her lips to ghost against your jaw, not quite a kiss, just enough to make you shiver.
“Mm. You’re trembling,” she says, tone teasing but gentle, as if coaxing. Her grip on your hip tightens. “Are you going to finish my makeup, or are you going to let me ruin it right now?”
summary: ellie takes you on a road trip from la to jackson to meet joel, tommy, and maria. four days with her family change everything.
word count: 21,300
cw: modern au, fluff, found family, road trip, first “i love you”, domestic romance.
the city is still sprawled behind you in the hazy rearview when ellie glances over from the driver’s seat, mouth tugging into that sideways smirk you know too well. the freeway stretches ahead in a long, sun-bleached ribbon, heat shimmering off the asphalt. her sunglasses are pushed up into her hair, messy and wind-tossed from having the window cracked open.
her left hand rests on the top of the steering wheel, fingers tapping idly to the beat of the song playing low through the speakers. the other arm is slung across her lap, casual, but her knuckles keep brushing your thigh in that way she pretends is accidental.
“you nervous?” she asks, voice even but laced with a kind of amusement that says she already knows the answer.
you keep your gaze fixed on the pale blur of mountains in the distance. “nope. not at all. not even a little bit.”
“liar,” she says, grinning.
“okay, maybe a little,” you admit, turning to face her. “it’s not every day i meet the guy who taught you how to shoot and the uncle who i’ve been told once wrestled you into a kiddie pool for stealing his hat.”
she huffs a laugh, eyes still on the road. “tommy’s gonna love you. joel’s probably gonna pretend he doesn’t, but then he’ll make you pancakes the next morning or some shit.”
“and maria?”
“oh, maria’s easy. she’s gonna adopt you within the first five minutes.”
you hum like you’re thinking it over. “and how long before they start roasting you?”
“before we even get out of the car,” she says, deadpan. “just-don’t laugh too hard, okay?”
“absolutely not,” you say with mock seriousness, already grinning.
by the time you’ve crossed into the mojave, the air’s dry enough to chap your lips, and the freeway has thinned to long stretches of nothing but low scrub and the occasional flash of a semi-truck. you’ve been cycling through her playlist - a mix of mellow indie tracks and classic rock she insists you have to appreciate properly.
she tells you stories between songs, how she almost failed her driving test because she clipped a cone, how shimmer once stole a sandwich straight out of her hand, how joel used to make her practice guitar until her fingers blistered.
at a gas station just outside st. george, you watch her wander the snack aisle like she’s on a mission. she comes back with a peach iced tea for you, a bag of hot cheetos for herself, and a pack of gum she claims is for “freshening up before meeting the family” but you know is just because she’s bored.
you make it as far as richfield, utah before the sun starts sinking low enough to burn gold against the edges of the mountains. ellie pulls into a small roadside motel, the kind with doors that open directly to the parking lot and a neon sign that hums faintly in the warm air.
inside, the room smells faintly of detergent and old carpet, but the sheets are clean. you collapse on the bed face-first, and ellie laughs, tossing her duffel to the corner before dropping down beside you.
“still nervous?” she asks after a moment, her voice quieter now.
you roll onto your side to look at her. “a little. i just…i want them to like me.”
she tilts her head, studying you. “they’re gonna like you. i like you. and they… trust me.”
there’s a beat of silence, then she adds, “joel, he’s not really my dad, but… he’s the closest thing i’ve got. maria’s been like this constant since i was a kid. tommy’s… well, he’s tommy. they’re my people. and if they like you-”
“-then you know i’m not secretly evil?” you offer, trying to keep it light.
her mouth curves. “something like that.”
you both fall asleep with the TV murmuring low in the background, her arm warm around your waist.
the next afternoon, the scenery changes. the road narrows, flanked by tall pines, the air sharpening with altitude. snow still clings to the peaks in the distance despite the warmth of late spring. ellie rolls down her window and breathes it in like it’s something she’s been missing.
the driveway to joel and maria’s place is gravel, the crunch under the tires loud in the quiet mountain air. aspens line the edges, their leaves trembling in the breeze.
joel’s already on the porch by the time you park. he’s broad-shouldered, sun-browned, and watching with an expression that’s equal parts curiosity and warmth.
“well, look who finally made it,” he says as you step out, voice carrying easily. then, to ellie: “and you brought trouble.”
you laugh, moving forward with your hand out. “hi, i’m-”
“i know who you are,” he says, gripping your hand firmly. “joel. you can call me joel.”
from inside, a voice calls, “or old man!” and another figure appears - tommy, with the same grin as joel but a younger energy. he hands joel a beer and claps ellie on the shoulder.
maria emerges last, her smile immediate and genuine. “you must be exhausted. come in, sweetheart.” she takes your bag like it’s the most natural thing in the world and leads you into a warm kitchen that smells faintly of bread and something roasting.
dinner is loud in the best way. joel carves roast chicken while tommy recounts the time ellie tried to dye her hair blue and ended up swamp-green for three weeks.
you’re halfway through a laugh when joel adds, “and that was after she played trumpet for, what, two months?”
ellie groans. “can we not?”
“you played trumpet?” you say, grinning.
“don’t,” she warns, but you catch the blush anyway.
after, ellie takes you upstairs to her old room. it’s smaller than you expected; twin bed, walls plastered with faded band posters, a bookshelf crammed with sci-fi paperbacks and sketchbooks.
you pick up a star wars figurine from the desk. “nerd.”
“yeah, well, you’re dating this nerd,” she shoots back, tugging you onto the bed beside her.
you lie there for a while, listening to the muffled sound of joel and maria talking downstairs, the faint creak of the house settling.
morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting soft golden stripes across the worn wood floor. you wake to ellie already moving around downstairs, her footsteps light and familiar even here in someone else’s house.
downstairs, the kitchen smells like fresh coffee and something baking - maria’s handiwork, no doubt. the table is set with mismatched mugs and plates, the kind that have chipped rims but carry a history of hundreds of breakfasts.
“morning,” maria greets you with a smile as you come in. “coffee? pancakes?”
“both, please,” you say, pulling out a chair. ellie slides in next to you, rubbing the sleep from her eyes but smiling as she reaches for your hand across the table.
after breakfast, maria drives you into town for coffee and a little browsing while ellie heads to the stables. the mountain air fills your lungs as you walk through the quiet streets of jackson - small shops with hand-painted signs, the faint sound of cowbells somewhere in the distance.
returning to the house, you find ellie waiting at the fence, her caramel-colored horse shimmer nuzzling her shoulder like a loyal friend.
“this is shimmer,” she says softly, pride in her voice.
you run your fingers along the horse’s silky mane, surprised by the warmth under the morning sun.
ellie helps you up onto the saddle, then climbs on behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist. the world falls away as shimmer carries you through the pine-scented trails, the rhythm of hooves on dirt a steady, soothing pulse.
“you’re a natural,” ellie murmurs into your hair.
“just trying to impress you,” you joke, turning your head to catch her smile.
the evening brings a casual dinner at a local diner, tommy orders ribs and nearly smears barbecue sauce all over his shirt. ellie squeezes your knee under the table every time tommy teases her mercilessly.
the morning sun slips lazily through the kitchen window, casting soft patterns on the worn wooden table. maria’s already bustling around the kitchen, the faint sizzle of butter in the pan mixing with the rich aroma of brewing coffee. the whole house smells like a hug - warm, familiar, and utterly safe.
you sit down beside ellie at the table, the chipped mug warming your hands as maria sets down a stack of fluffy pancakes, golden and steaming, with bowls of fresh berries and maple syrup on the side.
“eat up, you two,” maria says with a smile that reaches her eyes. “you’ve got a big day.”
ellie catches your hand under the table, her thumb brushing slow circles across your skin. it feels like a quiet promise: you’re here, you’re together, and you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.
after a lazy breakfast spent sharing pancakes and soft laughter, joel appears at the kitchen doorway holding two large photo albums, their covers cracked and softened by time.
“thought you might want to see some of these,” he says, setting them down gently on the table.
you and ellie sink onto the couch, joel settling opposite you as he opens the first album with reverence.
the pages are filled with snapshots that tell a story of a childhood wild and tender — a scrappy fourteen year old ellie, face smudged with dirt and determination; a gangly teenager with braces and a mischievous grin; family holidays marked by snowball fights and late-night bonfires.
you lean into ellie’s side, laughing softly at a photo where she’s caught mid-shriek, covered in mud after one of tommy’s pranks. she buries her face in your shoulder, whispering, “i swear to god, if he ever finds this…”
joel chuckles, the sound low and warm. “he’s lucky she loves him.”
as the afternoon wanes, maria brings out a tray of snacks and cozy blankets, and you all migrate to the living room. movie night is a tradition here, and tonight maria has picked a light-hearted rom-com that fills the room with laughter and sighs.
you curl up against ellie, her fingers weaving into yours as the credits roll and the room settles into a comfortable quiet. in this moment, everything feels perfect, the past and the present folding together gently, like the pages of those photo albums.
the final day arrives with a kind of soft melancholy, like the house itself is holding its breath. after a simple breakfast of toast and jam, the day unfolds slowly, spent helping maria in the garden and sharing stories with tommy as he tinkers on a project out back.
as evening falls, joel builds a fire pit in the backyard, the crackle of dry wood a steady rhythm against the quiet mountain night. the sky stretches wide and star-speckled overhead, and the air smells faintly of pine and smoke.
around the campfire, marshmallows toast slowly, turning golden and then a little charred as tommy recounts tales of ellie’s teenage misadventures - the infamous blue hair dye disaster, the time she got locked in a barn, and the countless pranks that earned her a permanent spot in family legend.
maria hands you a s’more with a knowing smile, her warmth wrapping around you like the firelight itself.
ellie sits close, her shoulder brushing yours, and when tommy’s stories quiet, she turns to you with eyes soft and serious.
“thank you,” she murmurs. “for being here. for being you.”
you squeeze her hand, heart swelling.
later, as the fire dies to glowing embers, you both slip inside to ellie’s childhood room, the twin bed somehow feeling smaller and more intimate than ever. tangled in each other’s arms, you share whispered promises and secrets, and when you finally say those three words, “i love you”, the weight and warmth of them fills the room and stretches beyond it.
the morning light is pale and gentle, filtering through the curtains with a quiet reluctance to start the day. maria moves around the kitchen with practiced ease, making sure everyone has a hot cup of coffee and a little something to eat before the long drive.
joel is quiet, but when he pulls you into a hug, it’s like being wrapped in the steady, unwavering strength that ellie always talks about.
tommy is already teasing ellie, promising to save some fresh embarrassing stories for next time, and maria presses a soft kiss to your cheek, whispering, “drive safe, sweetheart.”
packing the car feels bittersweet, every box and bag holds a memory now, every glance back at the house is a silent thank you.
ellie slips her hand into yours as you pull away, fingers lacing together like they never want to let go.
“worth the drive?” she asks, voice low and tender.
you look back at the place that’s been home for a few days, then back to her; the girl who brought you here, who’s made you feel part of something real.
“more than worth it,” you say.
the road stretches ahead again, but this time you carry a new kind of warmth with you - the warmth of family, love, and home.
sneak peek of ceo abby with her much needed assistant during a long day
abby slammed her pen down on the desk, the sound echoed through the glass walls of her office. it was sharp and ugly, making her wince. her temper was on edge this whole day, and now it was fraying into something worse.
her computer lit up with a ping. it was yet another email in her inbox— the subject line was screaming URGENT. and she ignored it. she couldn’t be bothered to open it. not when her day has been filled with disasters stacking on top of each other.
it started with the delayed shipment. then a client was threatening to walk. then finance with the multiple errors had thrown abby’s carefully crafted projects into chaos. each one was small but together they had settled onto her chest like a weight.
abby leaned back in her chair, dragging her fingers through her blonde hair until her fingers curled into her scalp. her jaw was sore from the clenching, shoulders aching from the tension. she glanced out the window, the skyline outside glowing, mocking her with its calming beauty. below she could see people going home as they slip into cabs, laughing and living life unbothered by the crushing weight of quarterly reports and deals that were soon to crumble.
she hated them for it.
her phone buzzed on her desk. a text from one of the executives. abby didn’t check it because if she did, her phone would’ve ended up on the opposite side of her office.
“fuck.” abby muttered under her breath. she grips the edge of her desk so hard her knuckles whitened. her heart was racing and for a moment she thought that she was having a panic attack. she’s had them before. only in private. always in private. because abby anderson didn’t need anyone to see through her cracks.
a quiet knock interrupted her spiraling thoughts.
“not now!” she snapped, her voice sharp.
the door opens anyway and you step inside. you don’t even flinch at the tone of her voice. in your hands was a steaming mug and a folder tucked under your arms.
abby glared at you. “i didn’t-.”
“tea.” you interrupted gently, setting the mug down on her desk. “oat milk. no sugar.”
abby opened her mouth to argue, like always. but you were already sliding the folder across her desk.
“the revised forms.” you said in a calm voice, unbothered by the storm named abby anderson. “finance miscalculated Q2, but i fixed it.”
abby looked at the folder like it was insulting her, but her fingers reached for it anyway. she opened it to scan through the various columns. you were right, as always.
“you ever not hover?” abby mutters.
“ever not need me to?”
abby’s eyes snapped up to yours. sharp as always. you don’t flinch. you never do. everyone else always folded under her when she was in one of her moods. but you never did, you always walked straight into it all calm and collected.
abby’s gaze lands on the mug, the steam curling into the air. she wanted to ignore it. to keep some of the control she had left. but her throat was dry, chest still tight, so she reached for it. the warmth of the mug steadied her breathing. the first sip hit her tongue smooth and familiar. she hated how good it felt.
you were gathering the paper she scattered earlier quietly but efficiently, she let you.
“it’s after eight.” you said finally, stacking the paper into a neat pile. “you’ve been here since dawn, i ordered dinner.”
abby’s head snapped up. “that’s not your job.”
“no.” you agree, tucking the last of the papers away. “neither is making sure you don’t run yourself into an early grave. but here we are.”
silence fills the room for a moment. abby’s glare was sharp, although lacking the usual heat. you smile at her faintly. it was professional.. careful.. but warm.
“i’ll let you know when it arrives.” you say before slipping out as quietly as you came in.
once the door clicked shut abby felt her heart thudding with something she couldn’t name. but for the first time that day, her shoulders weren’t tense and she could breathe.
WELL, FUCK THIS CITY...I'M MOVING TO SASKATCHEWAN | ELLIE WILLIAMS
summary; Inspired by The Subway from Chappell Roan—There was a time where you knew how to live your life without Ellie, but now you didn’t know how to, so you did the best thing you could—leaving the city where you met Ellie.
B's note: I'm going to be honest with you guys...I originally had this planned as like a 10 part series with SO much detail that takes over THREE years, but I just couldn't get the 1st chapter done. I literally wrote all of it out but just HATED the first chapter so much. So now we're here....please be nice to it AND me. Also please give it notes and reblogs...please...if you like it
word count: 4.0k words
Early summer of ‘23
The bar reeked of spilled beer and lemon rinds, and a humid mass of bodies was jammed against the sticky tables while some indie rock song bled out of the tired speakers. Jesse spotted you before you saw him, raising his glass high above the crowd to signal you over.
And then, there she was.
She sat on the opposite side of Dina, hunched over slightly, and messy bangs falling across her eyebrows. A plaid shirt was rolled up to her forearms, and tattoos were peeking out from under on her pale skin. She looked up when Jesse called your name, and her eyes—green, restless, and sharp—landed on you.
“This is Ellie,” Dina said, tugging Ellie’s arm like she might disappear if Dina didn’t anchor her.
Ellie gave you a small smile, the corner of her mouth twitching like it hadn’t learned how to behave in front of strangers just yet.
She fiddled with the label of her beer bottle, not in a nervous way but in a way that just screamed I don’t know what to do with my hands.
You slid into the booth, with sweat sticking at the back of your knees, and conversation spilled out the way it always did when Jesse was involved—loud, tangential, and barreling forward at the speed of light.
Ellie didn’t compete for space. She only spoke when spoken to, but when you said something about your professors grading like executioners, her gaze snapped to you and stayed there, like you were the only one in the room, and it made you feel special.
By the time you drifted outside with the others, the night was thick and heavy, with neon signs buzzing on the street.
Dina and Jesse argued about cabs, too distracted to notice Ellie stepping beside you, her shoulder brushing against yours.
She dug in her pocket, pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, and offered you one.
You shook your head. “I don’t smoke.”
She shrugged and tucked it behind her ear. For a second, she studied you, her mouth parted like she might say nothing at all.
And then,
“Wanna…grab coffee.. tomorrow?”
It was tossed out carelessly, almost casual, like a question Ellie already knew the answer to.
And you said yes.
End of summer ‘23
Ellie’s apartment was small—with one window that stuck when you tried to open it, a radiator that hissed more than it actually worked, and floors that were scuffed from tenants before.
But by September it smelled like you: your shampoo in the shower, and your laundry folded in piles that never stayed clean.
You woke up most mornings to sunlight pooling across Ellie’s shoulders as she stood by the mirror, always tugging her hair into a neat bun. “It looks professional,” she used to say.
Ellie would even lean over you every time, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.
“Back by seven,” she’d whisper, grabbing her camera bag. “Don’t forget to eat, okay?”
The apartment transformed with the two of you in it.
Polaroids were taped crookedly to the fridge—some of you blurry and laughing, others of buildings, rooftops, and a stray cat Ellie had befriended one time, and incense always burned low in the apartment. The smoke curled as you always sat cross-legged on the floor—eating greasy chinese noodles from takeout cartons with Ellie on friday nights.
You always loved Ellie the most in those moments—her socked feet padding across the floor as she muttered “shit” because she spilled sauce on her shirt, her small giggle when you pointed it out before she did.
The nights at her place turned long and sweet, her body heavy against yours under the sheets, and her guitar resting in the corner like a silent witness to your soft puppy love.
Every kiss tasted like a different promise, and every goodbye felt like nothing could touch you in the morning.
It was the kind of love that made the world feel more soft, the kind that made you think—this is it. This was the type of love that everyone was always writing about, aching for.
It was so easy to believe that she was yours and you were hers.
Through thick and thin, and maybe…forever.
Early fall ‘23
The courtyard buzzed with voices, as NYU’s graduating class spilled out into the late afternoon light.
The air smelled like roasted peanuts from a street vendor and warm pavement.
And the sounds of families shouting for their kids were tangled together into one big joyous blur.
Dina was on her toes, craning to see, while Jesse was already cupping his hands to his mouth. “There she is!” He shouted, whistling loud enough to make a few parents nearby wince and cover their ears.
And then Ellie appeared, cap slightly askew, and her purple gown swishing around her beat-up converse. The yellow stole across her chest caught the sun, the word photography embroidered in white. She looked—god—she looked alive.
“Ellie!” Dina screamed, waving both arms like she was flagging down a plane. Jesse whistled again, and you—you cupped your hands to your mouth and shouted, voice breaking from the force of it.
“I love you, Ellie! I’m so proud of you, baby!”
Ellie turned, searching around, and then she spotted you in the crowd. Her whole face broke into a grin so wide it made your chest ache.
She lifted her hand and waved. Mouthing something you couldn’t hear but didn’t need to—because you already knew.
The ceremony dragged on, speeches and applause and names echoing against the stone buildings, but you barely paid attention. Your eyes stayed fixed on Ellie. Every step she took, every laugh she shared with the graduate next to her.
When it was finally over, the crowd surged together. Families colliding with each other, and students hugging.
And then she was in front of you. Her cap tilted forward, shaggy hair escaping from underneath it. Ellie didn’t hesitate—she dropped her program, grabbed your face, and kissed you. Hard.
It was messy, teeth bumping, and the both of you laughing into each other's mouths. Ellie couldn’t stop smiling even as she kissed you again and again, breathless and almost giddy about it.
It felt like the world narrowed to just the two of you—her hands on your cheeks, and her grin pressing into your lips.
Behind you, Jesse groaned. “Jesus, get a room already.”
Dina was already snapping photos on her phone. “Don’t move—this is perfect. Look at you two.” She said with a smile.
You broke away from Ellie long enough to laugh, your forehead resting against hers, and your heart hammering. She was still smiling, her green eyes sharp and shining like she couldn’t believe that any of this was real.
At that moment, it didn’t matter how loud the crowd of families was, or how many photos Dina took, or even how many times Jesse heckled.
It was just Ellie.
Just her, radiant and untouchable, and you—completely hers.
But the rush of celebration quickly bled into the rhythm of fall.
You were buried again in classes, your days beginning to stretch long into library nights.
Ellie started her new job at Vogue, deadlines clawing at her back until she fell asleep late at her desk—with ink stains on her hands.
You hardly ever shared a bed anymore.
Sometimes you woke up in the quiet dark of the apartment and found her chair empty, her computer screen glowing, and her eyes red from staring too long as she got back in bed.
The magic hadn’t disappeared—not yet—but you could feel it fraying.
A distance building in between the spaces where your laughter used to live.
Still, when you looked at the photos Dina had taken after the ceremony—Ellie in her cap, your hands on her face, and the both of you smiling like fools—you told yourself this was what you’d always hold onto.
Early winter ‘23
The first snow came light, soft, and almost invisible until you pressed your forehead against the window and watched it collect on the fire escape outside of Ellie’s apartment.
For a moment, it was quiet in a way only New York could manage—horns muffled, footsteps swallowed by snow slush, and the whole city holding its breath at night.
Inside, Ellie’s apartment was dim.
The radiator hissed but still gave off a little heat. Half-drunk coffee cups littered her desk, and dark rings were staining the wood.
Her jacket was crumpled up on the chair where she’d dropped it last night.
You sat cross-legged on the couch, your textbooks open but going unread, and instead listening for the sound of Ellie’s key in the lock.
She had come home long past midnight, hair damp, and her jacket dusted white from the snow.
Ellie looked through you as she crossed the room, toeing off her beat-up converse.
Her camera bag hit the floor with a small thud.
“Hey,” you whispered, feeling small in the awkward silence.
“Hey.” She said, voice low and tired. Ellie didn’t stop moving.
You wanted to bridge the gap between you two, so you did what you always did: made space for her.
You curled up beside Ellie on the couch, rested your head on her shoulder, and breathed her in—cigarette smoke, rain, and a faint trace of floral perfume that wasn’t yours.
For a second, you almost believed you still had her.
“I miss you.” The words fell out of your mouth before you could swallow them back.
And Ellie froze.
The only sound in the apartment was the hum of the radiator, and the faint buzz of her phone vibrating on her desk.
Ellie didn’t meet your eyes. Nor did she move.
Her silence stretched beyond sharp and heavy, until it pressed down like a burning weight on your chest.
And in that moment, you felt it—the slow, and quiet painful truth: Ellie was slipping away, and she wasn’t going to stop herself.
Late winter ‘23
Boxes were stacked in the corner of Ellie’s apartment.
Your books, sweaters, and the half-empty bottle of perfume Ellie had once called your scent—you taped them shut one by one, the ripping sound was way too loud in the stillness of her apartment.
Ellie sat at her desk, pretending to work on some photos.
Or maybe not pretending at all—maybe she really did care more about the glowing screen in front of her than about the way you were dismantling your life together piece by piece.
When the last box was sealed, Ellie finally turned around to look at you.
She didn’t reach out for you. She didn’t ask you to stop.
She just handed you the stupid roll of tape, her expression unreadable and voided of any emotion.
You wanted Ellie to fight.
You wanted her to beg.
You wanted her to say your name the way she had last summer, so soft and sure, like you were hers again
But Ellie didn’t.
So when you finally closed the apartment door behind you—the sound echoed in your chest like a hollow subway tunnel on 63rd street.
You waited on the other side of the door for Ellie to come and get you, and say she was sorry.
She never did.
Spring ‘24
It started with a text. You up?
You shouldn’t have answered in the first place. But of course you did.
Ellie’s couch was the same as it had been months before, worn out cushions swallowing you whole, and the faint smell of her laundry detergent clinging to the shirt she tossed your way.
You told yourself it was casual, a one-time thing, nothing more than old habits to get out of your system.
But one night turned into two, and two nights turned into four.
You kept telling Jesse and Dina it was fine, no one was getting hurt. We’re just hooking up. It’s nothing.
Except it wasn’t nothing.
Because in between the frantic kisses and clumsy laughter, Ellie still broke down sometimes.
Still shook with panic at 3 a.m., her breath shallow, and words tumbling out so fast you had to hold her tight—and whisper Ellie back into her own body.
Because she still clung to you like you were the only person who could keep her from drowning in her position at Vogue.
And when Ellie kissed you afterward—slow, desperate, and almost tender—you let yourself believe for half a second that it meant something.
That maybe, she missed you the way you missed her.
But Ellie was always halfway out the door in the mornings, and you were always left alone in the apartment that wasn’t yours to call ‘home’ anymore.
It was casual, even though it wasn’t.
Early summer ‘24
The heat was unbearable under your blue gown, and the heavy fabric was clinging to the sweat at the back of your neck. Your cap was crooked, and the gold tassel kept brushing your cheek with every step.
Jesse whistled when they called your name, loud enough that the people in the next row turned their heads.
Dina clapped until her hands turned red, too.
You smiled, waved, and let the applause roll over you.
Four years of sleepless nights and crumpled essays with too much coffee (and redbull) were finally over—officially done.
But the moment your feet hit the stage, your eyes found hers like it was the first moment all over again.
Ellie sat a few rows back with Jesse and Dina, auburn hair pulled into a bun, and sunglasses perched crooked on her head. She wasn’t clapping. She wasn’t cheering. She was just… staring.
Staring like she was the only one in the crowd who saw you for you, like the noise and confetti meant nothing compared to this— the two of you, staring across the distance you both willingly created between your two lives.
Later that night, at the same bar where you’d met her almost a year ago, Jesse raised a toast, and Dina nearly cried into her drink as the music thumped too loud for thoughts.
But Ellie’s eyes never left you, not for a single second.
Every time you turned your head, she was there, watching you with that same steady enamoured focus she'd had the first night. The same look that once meant a beautiful promise, now carved into something you couldn’t name.
And when Jesse and Dina were distracted at the jukebox, Ellie leaned close, her breath hot against your own ear. “Come home with me,” she whispered.
And you did.
Her apartment smelled the same way as it always did—incense with lavender detergent and a faint trace of Ellie’s shampoo.
Her clothes were still scattered across the floor, and her guitar remained untouched in the corner.
Ellie kissed you like last year hadn’t happened.
Like you hadn’t broken apart after leaving her apartment.
Like she hadn’t chosen her job that demeaned her work over you.
But you made love one last time, slow and quiet, with your hands memorizing Ellie like you were afraid she’d disappear in the morning.
But her face pressed into your neck like her voice was caught on your name.
And for a few stolen hours, it was summer again.
It was home again.
But when dawn broke, you slipped out of her bed, and Ellie willingly let you leave.
End of summer ‘24
Ellie’s apartment hadn’t changed. The same paint was peeling off the walls, and the same guitar was in the corner gathering dust.
And the couch cushions sagged the same way they always did, as if waiting for you to sink back into them.
But all of it wasn’t yours anymore.
“This is Cat,” Ellie said, casual, like the name didn’t shatter the air between the two of you.
Like it didn’t erase your romantic history with Ellie in an instant.
She stood close beside the tattooed girl, her arm slung loose around Cat’s shoulder. “My girlfriend.”
Your girlfriend…?
Your throat suddenly tightened, but you smiled anyway, because Jesse and Dina were watching, because you didn’t know what else to do, other than smile and tell yourself suck it up.
Cat said something polite, offered you a smile, but you barely registered it because that’s when you saw it—Ellie’s shirt.
Not hers.
But yours.
The one you had left folded in her drawer last spring, before you moved out.
The one you thought she had tossed or forgotten.
But it was worn soft now, the collar stretched, and clinging to her shoulders like a memory.
Ellie had kept it.
After all this time.
Your chest burned as you rushed yourself to the bathroom, the same one you used to brush your teeth in, the same one you used to sit on the floor of while Ellie showered, the steam fogging up the mirror.
You didn’t need to be told where it was.
You gripped the edge of the sink, breathing hard, the sink tile cool against your palms.
In the other room, you could hear her laugh—Ellie’s laugh—directed at someone else that wasn’t you for once, but Cat.
And the burning truth settled in like lava in your stomach: it wasn’t the city. It wasn’t timing. It wasn’t bad luck.
It was her.
It was Ellie in all her beautiful glory that made her Ellie. That made her your Ellie—That made her Cat’s Ellie.
Late winter ‘25, after the holidays
Cardboard boxes were lined up in Ellie’s apartment like sharp teeth in a jaw, open and waiting to devour the last traces of her life here—the last traces of her life here, with you.
Cat flitted between them with a smile, folding clothes, and labeling lids with her neat handwriting.
And Jesse carried stacks of books to the door. While Dina wrapped the framed Polaroids you recognized, the ones Ellie swore she didn’t care enough about to hang straight but still kept anyway.
And you—well, you played along. The friend. The helper.
Tape in one hand, bubble wrap in the other, and a smile so tightly fixed that your jaw ached.
Ellie brushed past you, balancing a box of records under her arm. “California,” she said, half breathless, eyes sparking the way they used to—when she was with you.
“Vogue’s giving me this position—like, it’s unreal. And Cat found this insane apprenticeship. We’ll have this place by the coast. Real light. Big windows. It’s… perfect.”
You nodded along, throat almost raw from crying the night before. “Sounds amazing.”
But the words burned inside you, splitting along every fracture Ellie had left behind.
Because it was supposed to be you.
The dream apartment. The golden light.
The coastal air seeping through the windows as she pressed kisses to your shoulder in the morning.
That was supposed to be your life with her, not this—her future threaded through with someone else’s hands.
Dina asked you to hold a box steady, and you did.
Jesse cracked another joke, and you forcibly laughed.
Cat thanked you for your help, and even you told her it was no problem.
While your chest echoed like a subway tunnel after the last train had passed—empty, hollow, and the sound of Ellie’s absence ricocheting back at you.
When she finally stepped back to take in the apartment, stripped bare of the things that made it hers, Ellie looked at you.
And for just a second.
Those green eyes were steady. Familiar.
And god, for a moment, it was summer again.
But then Cat called her name, and she turned around.
And just like that—Ellie was gone.
She got away.
Early spring ‘26
New York thawed slowly.
And the snowbanks turned into gray water that ran along the curbs, the air wet and sharp, and the streets becoming restless again.
You tried to let it mean something—new year, clean slate, and all that—but it didn’t stick.
Most days, you still found yourself walking past Ellie’s old apartment.
The window where she used to lean out to smoke was dark now, the curtains drawn.
You told yourself it was just a coincidence, just a habit.
But you lingered anyway, staring up at the brick and glass like you might catch a glimpse of her shadow pressed against the blinds—but you never did.
The bar was worse.
You swore you’d stop going, swore you’d outgrow the way your chest flipped every time the door swung open, thinking it was Ellie—it never was.
But you kept showing up, sometimes alone, sometimes with Jesse and Dina on other nights.
Ordering the same drink you’d had when you met her, as if that might call Ellie back.
But she never came.
And still—she was everywhere.
You caught her on strangers’ faces on the subway, and in the tattooed arm brushing past you on the platform.
In the sound of someone’s laugh carrying across the street, sharp and low, and you spun before you could even stop yourself.
It was cruel, how the city kept giving her back to you in fragments, only to rip her away again and again.
You didn’t want to see Ellie anymore.
You didn’t want to keep feeding the part of yourself that ached for her—for those green eyes.
But New York was Ellie's shadow now.
And even when you closed your eyes, you swore you could feel her—pressed against you in the crowded train, whispering your name through the hum of the city.
Like she was still here—like she never left at all in the first place.
Late summer ‘26
The moving van was too big for the narrow streets of New York, its back yawning open, with boxes stacked like bricks inside.
Jesse wiped away sweat from his eyebrow as he hoisted another box in, muttering about your terrible packing skills.
Dina sniffled every few minutes, blaming it on allergies, even though the redness of her eyes gave her away.
“You don’t have to leave just because of her,” Dina said, voice catching as she folded her arms.
“New York can be yours too. Don’t let Ellie take that away from you,” her voice cracked.
But you gave Dina a sad smile, fingers tightening on the strap of your bag. “It’s not about…her. It’s just… I need to go home. Just for a bit.”
“Back to Minnesota, right?” Jesse asked, leaning up against the packed van.
You nodded.
Dina stepped forward and wrapped you in a hug, fierce and warm—just like Dina herself, her tears were wet against your shoulder. “You could stay with us. Move in. We’d make it work—you don’t have to do this alone.”
“I know,” you whispered. “But I need to.”
When she pulled away, Jesse was already there, arms wrapping around you in a bear hug that lifted you half off your feet. “At least promise us you’ll visit. And call—every day, if Dina has it her way.”
“I’ll call,” you said, laughing softly, despite the heaviness pressing down on your chest. “I promise.”
Dina wiped her eyes again, and Jesse helped you climb into the driver’s seat, before hugging you one last time. They stood on the curb together, waving—and crying, as you turned the key and the van rumbled to life.
The city blurred by as you drove, streets folding into highways, and skyscrapers shrinking in the rearview mirror.
And then you saw it: the sign, tall and stark, telling you that you were leaving New York.
And suddenly, the van was filled with a type of quiet that wasn’t so suffocating anymore.
B's note: I know...please don't hurt me. I think I genuinely blacked out while writing this because what do you mean there's some FIREE one liners in here but everything else is just straight ass...
synopsis: after years apart, you and ellie cross paths again. with all the unspoken words and buried feelings hanging in the air, you both choose to forget everything just for one night. one night to relive the things your past selves used to do, like nothing ever changed.
cw: modern au, pure fluff, romcom coded
It wasn’t even nine in the morning and you already wanted to give up on the day and crawl back into bed. On top of being practically forced into a last-minute work trip, the universe had decided to play a cruel joke on you by sending the slowest baristas in existence your way that morning.
Just as you were about to give up on your order and accept that you’d spend the entire morning starving, one of the baristas finally stepped up to the counter, ready to call out a name. You prepared yourself to stand, thinking it was finally your turn. But instead of your name, you heard it.
“Ellie.”
You shot up from your chair, storming toward the counter, ready to unleash a complaint. The words were already on the tip of your tongue when you saw that familiar auburn hair tied back in a low bun. Suddenly, everything you meant to say died in your throat.
“Ellie…?” the sound of her name tumbled from your lips, uncertain and disbelieving, as if you’d just seen a ghost.
And then her green eyes found yours. The world around you seemed to slow, and for a heartbeat, nothing else mattered. The sour mood that had been weighing you down all morning evaporated in an instant. A disbelieving laugh escaped you, like you couldn’t trust your own eyes.
Ellie’s eyes widened slightly, as if she had just woken from a nightmare and you were the first real thing she’d seen in a long time. Her hand reached instinctively for your wrist, needing to feel your skin just to make sure you wouldn’t disappear if she blinked.
“You…” she whispered. Her gaze roamed across your face, drinking in every detail, trying to reconcile the changes with the girl she used to know so well.
“Yes, me!” you answered, and without a second thought, you threw yourself into her arms, pulling her into a tight embrace.
Ellie gasped in surprise at the sudden contact, the cup of coffee trembling in her hand until some of the liquid splashed onto your blouse. You pulled away immediately, and Ellie’s cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. She had dreamed of this moment through countless sleepless nights, and now that it was finally happening, she had managed to ruin it by spilling coffee on you.
“Sorry.” she mumbled, already missing the feeling of your arms around her neck.
“No, don’t worry about it. That was on me.” you rushed to reassure her, not even caring about the brown stain spreading across your light blue blouse. Seeing Ellie again after all these years was worth more than any ruined shirt. “I brought a jacket anyway.”
Before she could respond, you tugged her toward your table, guiding her into the chair across from yours. You couldn’t help but notice how little she had changed.
Her freckles, her hair tied back the same as always, her flannel shirt and worn-out Converse. God, it was really your Ellie.
She must have noticed the way you were staring at her, because her cheeks flushed again. She adjusted her glasses nervously, clearing her throat as if searching for something safe to say.
“So…” she paused, fumbling for words. “You’re back?”
That question made you glance down at your hands, your mind dragging you back to the day you had left. You’d relived that moment more times than you could count. The moving van. The empty room. The feel of her hand slipping from yours. The tears in Ellie’s eyes.
“No.” you said finally, your voice carrying more weight than you intended. “I’m just here for work.”
Ellie shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Even if it was just a work trip, it stung that you hadn’t thought to call her. She hadn’t expected much, just a chance to talk, to trade stories about your lives, maybe to laugh about high school again. She hadn’t dared to hope for anything more than that.
The moment you saw her expression change, your chest tightened. It wasn’t that you hadn’t wanted to see her again. You loved Ellie, you really did. But with the pressure of your new job, the relentless deadlines, the constant travel, you were drowning. Finding time to breathe was hard enough, and reaching out had simply slipped through your mind.
“I mean… it’s just a short trip, you know? I’m swamped with work and I leave tomorrow.” you forced a small smile, hoping she could see the sincerity behind it.
But your words only made her shrink further into her chair, as if you had just told her something that broke her in ways she didn’t want you to see.
“You leave tomorrow?”
Your smile faltered when you caught the genuine disappointment in her eyes. In that moment, you wished you could rewrite your entire history together. You wished you’d begged your mom to stay. You wished you’d fought harder to keep in touch. But this was your reality now. You and Ellie weren’t close anymore, and maybe you never would be again.
“Let’s… let’s not talk about that.” you forced your smile back into place, your mind scrambling for a distraction. “Tell me about your work. Are you still doing photography?”
It had always been one of Ellie’s favorite subjects, and by the way her face lit up, you knew you’d chosen right.
“Yeah.” she said, adjusting her glasses again. Her smile spread easily, her whole expression glowing with excitement. “Yeah, I’m still a photographer.”
You leaned forward, resting your elbow on the table, curious. “And do you focus on specific things or…?”
“I shoot anything that helps me pay the bills.” Ellie replied with a little shrug, her smile tugging toward irony, like she was laughing at herself. But her eyes still carried the quiet pride of someone chasing her dream.
“Ooh, very fancy.” you teased, raising a brow with a laugh.
Ellie laughed with you, shaking her head. “But I kinda miss my favorite model.”
Your heart lurched at the unexpected confession. Heat rushed through you, and you blinked a few times, trying to play it off. You rolled your eyes, pretending to be more annoyed than flustered.
“Well, I don’t miss being yelled at to do a thousand poses every second.” your laugh was nervous, trying to keep the moment light. “You were so bossy.”
Ellie gasped dramatically, clutching her chest in mock offense. “Excuse me? I was an artist!”
“Do you yell at your clients too?” you shot back, chin resting on your hand.
“No, because they actually listen. Unlike you, who’s always been impossible.” she crossed her arms, lifting her chin with exaggerated pride. “And because they pay my bills.”
You opened your mouth to respond, but the barista calling your name echoed through the café, shattering the moment.
You stood slowly, and when your eyes met Ellie’s, you caught the flicker of disappointment there. Too quick for most people to notice, but not you. You still knew her too well. She covered it quickly, shifting in her chair and forcing a small smile.
“Well, I should get going.” you said softly, the weight of the words pulling at your chest. You tried to mask it with a sad little smile. “I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“Yeah, of course.” her fingers fidgeted nervously with the hem of her shirt as she rose too. “I should go too.
You handed her your coffee, balancing the paper bag of muffins in your other hand.
“This is for you.” you murmured. “Sorry again about the coffee.”
The two of you exchanged numbers, and Ellie held onto that tiny piece of hope. Maybe this time you wouldn’t disappear. Maybe this was her chance to fix what had been broken, and maybe—just maybe— her chance to show you how much she’d always loved you.
But beneath the hope, fear gnawed at her chest. The fear that once she looked away, you’d vanish from her life all over again, leaving behind a hollow space she’d never manage to fill.
“Wait!” her voice came out sharper, more urgent than she’d intended.
You stopped, turning back slowly. Your eyes met hers, and for a moment, the noise of the street seemed to vanish into silence.
“You’re leaving tomorrow, right?” her gaze held yours, filled with hope but laced with fear. Fear that you would say no. Fear that this moment would turn into nothing more than another bittersweet memory. “Can we meet tonight?”
“Yes!” the word flew from your mouth too quickly, almost desperate, and you instantly regretted it when you saw her laugh softly at your eagerness. “Yes.”
“I’ll pick you up at eight then?” Her voice was sweet and cautious, every word carrying a delicate kind of hope, her mind already racing with ideas of how to show you that things could still be good between you two if only you’d let her. “Where are you staying?”
A small laugh slipped past your lips when you stepped into the lobby to wait for Ellie. She was already there, right on the dot at eight, wearing what you imagined to be one of her fanciest shirts. Her jeans were nearly the same shade as the shirt, and of course her trusty Converse stole your attention again, making you laugh once more. Her hair was half-up, half-down, and she fidgeted nervously with her rings as she waited for you.
Ellie shot up from the chair as soon as she saw you approaching, discreetly rubbing her sweaty palms against her jeans.
“Oh, you dressed up all nice for our date?” you teased, reaching up to adjust the collar of her shirt.
Ellie rolled her eyes, but the blush creeping up her cheeks gave her away. She wanted to argue, maybe say it wasn’t technically a date since she hadn’t called it that. But who was she kidding? She wanted this more than anything. You’d called it a date, and hell, if you said it was, then it was a date.
“God, I forgot how insufferable you are.” she muttered, rubbing her eyes behind her glasses like she was under unbearable stress.
You laughed, and Ellie’s chest tightened. She turned her face away, pretending to tug at a loose thread on her shirt just so she could smile like an idiot, grateful she got to hear your laugh again after so long. The two of you walked out of the hotel, the cool evening breeze playing with your hair.
“You look beautiful.” you said, slipping your arm through Ellie’s. You felt her grip your arm almost instantly, holding on.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” she replied, giving your hand a playful pinch as she led you toward the car. “You look… decent.”
“Always so charming.”
“Don’t tell the ladies.” she quipped, flashing you a goofy grin, clearly proud of herself.
In that quiet moment, Ellie allowed herself to really take in every detail of you. The way your hair fell over your shoulders, the light blush on your cheeks from your makeup, your lips that somehow looked even more inviting than she remembered. She felt ridiculous for wishing your perfume would cling to her shirt so she could still smell you after you were gone. She probably would never wash it again.
“So…” you paused, offering her a grateful smile when she opened the car door for you. “Where are you taking me?”
“It’s a surprise.” she answered, her lips curling into a smirk before shutting the door.
As Ellie walked around to the driver’s side, the only thing in her head was how badly she couldn’t afford to screw this up. This was her one chance, and everything had to be perfect. She took a deep breath, slid into the driver’s seat, fastened her seatbelt, and started the car.
The ride was calm. You talked about your life in the new city, about your job, about your friends. Ellie listened quietly, adding the occasional comment or smile, her fingers drumming nervously against the steering wheel.
“Why are you so quiet?” you asked, furrowing your brows in confusion.
“Just focusing on the road.” she mumbled, her voice faltering at the end. She cursed herself silently.
You raised an eyebrow. That wasn’t like Ellie. Normally she’d be rambling nonstop about whatever new obsession had taken over her brain.
“No…” you murmured, trying to piece it together. And then it hit you: Ellie had never been able to lie to you. “Oh my God, you’re scared of giving away the surprise, aren’t you?”
“Shut up! That’s not it…” she rushed to say, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. But then, as if she couldn’t bear the weight of it anymore, she cleared her throat and glanced at you out of the corner of her eye. “We’re going somewhere we used to go a lot. You’re gonna love it. You’re gonna cry.”
Unfortunately for you, she was right. Tears welled up in your eyes when you saw the roller skating rink you used to drag Ellie to when you were younger. And now you were both standing there again, staring at the familiar building in all its glory.
Ellie’s lips curved into a smug smile as she walked closer, hands stuffed in her pockets. She gave you a playful nudge with her shoulder.
“You’re crying.”
"No, I’m not," you blurted, grabbing her hand and tugging her toward the entrance before she could say anything else. Ellie burst out laughing, letting herself be pulled inside like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The rink was exactly as you remembered. The greasy smell of fries from the snack bar, the sweat from skaters who had been circling for hours, the teenagers using the place as an excuse to hang out and make out behind the lockers. You had been one of them once, with Ellie pulling you close and kissing you until your lips were swollen.
“Seriously, how can you still be this bad at it?” you teased, watching Ellie wobble toward you on skates.
Her arms were stiffly out in front of her, her face twisted in deep concentration, as if she was using every muscle in her body just to avoid an embarrassing fall.
"Shut up, jerk.” she snapped, though there was no real bite in her voice. "You gonna help me or just sit there laughing like an idiot?"
“Okay, okay, I’m coming.” you said, giggling at her grumpy tone. You skated over, placing your hands on her waist to steady her as you guided her gently across the floor at her pace.
A few little girls zipped past you both, giggling at the sight of Ellie clinging to you for dear life. Ellie shot them a glare, and you burst into laughter, loosening your grip for just a second.
“Hold me!” she yelped, her voice pitching higher in panic.
“I’m holding you.” you whispered near her ear, laughing as you tightened your grip on her waist again.
“Don’t let go!” she exclaim, tilting her head slightly so she could catch your gaze. The heat of your touch on her waist burned through her shirt, and though it was maddening, she couldn’t decide if it was worse or better than the thought of falling on her ass.
“I’m not letting go! Relax.” you assured her, trying to sound confident even as your whole body felt flushed. “Only you would take a girl on a date and make her hold your hand so you don’t bust your ass on the floor.”
"Are you kidding? That’s literally my charm," she teased, eyes narrowing with playful mischief. Her breath was warm against your skin, and for a second, the closeness made your knees wobble. "I pretend I don’t know how to skate, and then you have to hold me like this. Total win."
“You call this charm?” you tilted your head, leaning even closer.
“Absolutely. I’m helpless, vulnerable… and you have to be my hero. It’s irresistible.”
“That’s sexy.” you mocked, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do you like me holding you like this?”
“Yeah. I’m so hard right now.” she shot back with a wicked grin, her eyes flicking to your lips before locking back on yours.
Your brows shot up in surprise, and then you laughed, that laugh that always undid her. “You’re such a pervert.”
“I’m a visionary.” she countered, lifting her chin, her eyes narrowing in that familiar defiant way.
“Oh yeah?” you arched a brow, letting go of her waist and gliding away from her.
“Hey, no, get back here!” Ellie cried, eyes wide in panic as she lost her support. She froze for a second, calculating whether moving was worth the risk, but then something about the way you teased her flipped a switch in her brain, and she pushed forward with surprising precision.
Your eyes widened when you saw her coming, and a squeal that sounded dangerously close to her name slipped from your throat when she tripped over her own feet. You threw your arms out to catch her, but all you managed was to grab her arms before she dragged you both down in a clumsy crash to the floor.
“Are you okay?!” you gasped, your hand flying to her face to check if she’d broken anything important.
And then Ellie laughed. Not just a chuckle, she laughed uncontrollably, clutching your waist and pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed flush together on the floor.
“Gotcha.” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your eyes with her free hand. Her grin faltered, shifting into something deeper, more certain. For a moment, she forgot everything. The rink, the people, even breathing.
Your smile faded the moment her eyes dropped to your lips, and you couldn’t help but follow. Your heart was pounding, loud and relentless, as you stared at the soft pink lips of the woman you’d been hopelessly into for the past ten years.
Ellie leaned in, unable to fight it anymore, and swore she might faint when her lips finally brushed yours.
The moment you closed your eyes, ready to melt into it, a chorus of giggles made you jolt them open.
"Looks like we’ve got an audience.” Ellie whispered with a soft laugh, her eyes flicking toward the same girls from earlier as they skated past, sneaking curious glances at the two of you.
You buried your face against Ellie’s shoulder, laughing in embarrassment, your heart hammering so fast you thought it might explode. From happiness or frustration, you weren’t sure. Maybe both.
“I don’t want this night to end.” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it too loudly might shatter the moment.
“We’re nowhere near done.” Ellie murmured back, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I want to take you somewhere else.”
“Absolutely not.” you said, crossing your arms, pretending firmness.
Ellie parked the car in front of the old skatepark, the same place she always chose when she wanted to impress you with her supposed skills. You remembered every time you had come here before: the laughter, the failed attempts, and of course the nights that ended with you cleaning scraped knees and putting band-aids on her wounds, while Ellie insisted it had been worth it.
“Oh, come on!” she nudged your shoulder lightly with hers, smiling in that adorable dork way that always made you melt. “I’m build different now!”
You glanced toward the skatepark, mentally weighing your options. Most likely, the two of you would end up in the hospital, with Ellie bleeding all over your white blouse while you told her how brave she was. But the way she looked at you, so full of expectation, made all of your resistance falter just a little.
“I know a lot of new tricks now.” she said, grinning excitedly when she realized she was winning the argument. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
The two of you got out of the car, and Ellie ran to grab the skateboard from the trunk. She grinned like a kid as she emptied her jeans pockets, handing over everything inside for you to hold.
She ran to pick up speed and started gliding across the park. The wind messed up strands of her messy bun, and her smile was so wide it almost made you forget how dangerous this was. Every now and then she tried small tricks like quick jumps, rushed spins, and forced poses, always looking at you right after as if searching for approval.
“So good, babe!” you shouted, clapping proudly. “You’re definitely better!”
She was awful. She was awful then and she was awful now. And every time her feet left the skateboard for even a moment, your heart skipped a beat while you silently prayed to whatever higher power you could think of.
And then, inevitably, she lost balance.
“Ellie!” you screamed, panic rushing through you.
She tried to recover, but her feet slipped off the board and her body went straight to the ground. Ellie fell flat on her back with a thud that echoed through the empty park, making your eyes go wide in shock.
You rushed to her side, immediately kneeling down beside her still body.
“Oh my God, are you okay?!” your voice came out breathless, almost trembling.
Ellie blinked a few times, her gaze lost for a second. She looked slightly disoriented, as if she were trying to figure out whether she was still alive. Slowly, a weak laugh escaped her lips, and she lifted her hand to squeeze your cheek.
“I’m fine… I think,” she said, bringing her hand to her head. “I’m still standing?”
"Don’t laugh.” you muttered, already reaching for her arm to help her up. You eased Ellie into a sitting position, your hand moving gently across her back in slow, comforting circles, trying to soothe the pain, even if you weren’t sure it was working.
But in the next moment, that smirk returned to her face, barely hiding the pain. “Kiss it better?”
You rolled your eyes, ready to scold her for being so cheeky, but before you could react, Ellie took advantage of the closeness and held your face with both hands, pressing her lips against yours.
At first, the kiss was slow and delicate, filled with a reverence that stole the air from your lungs. Ellie pulled you by the waist, dragging you until you were practically sitting on her lap, pressed tightly against her body. The world around you disappeared once again, something that only ever seemed to happen when you were with Ellie. All that remained were her lips on yours, her warm breath mingling with yours, the sweet and familiar taste that made your heart burn with joy.
When you finally pulled apart, breathless, you stared at each other in silence, faces so close that any slight movement could lead to another kiss. Ellie was smiling faintly, her eyes half-lidded with adoration. The tip of her thumb traced slowly along your lower lip, as if memorizing its shape.
You shivered all over.
“Ellie…” you murmured, trying to steady yourself. “Can we do something?”
Her brow arched, curious, but she quickly whispered, still panting. “Yeah, anything.”
“You promised me a dance, remember? At prom… we never got to go together. So…”
Ellie’s mouth dropped open in shock, as if she couldn’t believe what you had just said. Then she laughed, teasing. “My God. Who’s the cheesy one now?”
“Shut up,” you said, trying to hide the blush burning on your cheeks. “Just… humor me, okay?”
You pulled your phone from your pocket and played one of her favorite songs. The soft notes filled the empty skatepark, echoing beneath the faint glow of the streetlights.
Ellie chuckled but gave in, taking your hand and pulling you up from the ground. Your bodies drew close, moving together in the same slow rhythm of the music. You stumbled clumsily here and there, but neither of you cared.
Her voice came out low, almost a whisper against your ear. “You’re so beautiful.”
Your heart clenched, and when you opened your eyes to look at her, you found an expression so full of devotion that you swore you loved her a little more in that moment, even though you weren’t sure it was possible to love her more than you already did. But before you could answer, Ellie suddenly pulled away, breaking the moment.
You frowned, confused. “What—?”
She began walking backward toward the car, her eyes never leaving yours. “You look perfect… don’t move.”
The words caught you off guard, and you froze, watching her disappear quickly. In seconds, Ellie was back, now with her camera hanging from her neck, breathless from hurrying. Relief washed over you when you realized it was just another one of Ellie Williams’ improvised photo sessions.
“Okay, don’t move. I need to capture this.”
And there, under the night sky with the music still echoing faintly, Ellie began photographing you. Every detail, every expression, as if she wanted to preserve that moment forever.
One month later.
You’d just stepped out of the Uber, heart racing a little as you followed the cryptic directions Ellie had sent days ago. The invitation had been vague, borderline suspicious, but you’d come anyway. Of course you had.
After the long hours of traveling from your city to hers, all you wanted was to rest, but curiosity kept you going.
When you came face to face with the gallery entrance, everything made sense. Ellie was probably exhibiting some of her photos and wanted you to be there to see them. Your heart warmed, and all the exhaustion vanished, replaced by excitement.
Inside, the gallery buzzed with voices and movement. You scanned the crowd, searching for Ellie’s face among strangers.
But then, one photo stopped you cold.
Your breath caught. A smile tugged at your lips, disbelief blooming into laughter as your eyes welled with tears. There you were: your face and your joy captured in a massive frame that dominated the wall. You were smiling, frozen in time on the night of that date. The night you’d danced with Ellie under the dim yellow lights of the skatepark, like the world had shrunk to just the two of you.
You looked so happy, gazing into the camera as if the person behind it was your whole world. And she was.
a/n: thanks for the request 💕 @luminezsence hope you liked it ❤️
hey so those are two different things 😭 it’s not romanticizing and it’s literally just a reblog button u dumb fuck, u don’t see me shipping a 14 yr old girl with someone who’s old enough to be her dad — and literally IS her father ( figure ) u’re a sad excuse for a person lmao
i really REALLYYYY despise ‘joellie’ shippers, like what the actual fuck is that bs? i came across this page on here and it was FILLEDD with that, mind u — this dude is twenty two years old. are we dead fucking ass — every one of u weirdos, disrespectfully die in a fire 😭
content warnings ⭑𓂃 orgasm denial (e!receiving) fingering (e!receiving) mean!reader mean!ellie (reader is implied to be emotionally detached/distant ??) // only a drabble
"you're so fuckin' selfish" ellie groans into your mouth.
"mm? you're the one who dragged me in here" you shudder as you urge guide ellie's hips against the door of the storage closet.
"two things can be true at once" ellie retorts.
"but selfish? how many times have i made you come without asking for anything in return?" you hiss against the plush of her lips.
her eyes meet yours as she speaks; "so i'm just a pity fuck to you then?" you reciprocate her gaze, fingertips feathering across the freckles on her cheeks. "of course not" you look at her with faux sincerity, "you know when you surpass boredom and teeter towards where you'd rather walk across dirty needles than wallow in mindless agitation for a second longer?" you pause before continuing, smiling, like you know you've won this:
"that's me when we fuck."
"oh, fuck you" ellie spits. "you act so above it, but then you're fuckin' begging to see me at 2 in the morning" she drags out each syllable like she's trying to emphasise your existential desperation.
with that you crash your lips against hers—all open mouth and teeth.
ellie licks into your mouth, it's sultry, messy and fucking disgusting with the way you bite her bottom lip and she whimpers into your mouth, allowing you to swallow the noise she's given you.
you grab her jaw, and lick down her throat before your teeth graze her neck, marking the pale freckles that litter her skin. ellie whines, and it’s almost hard not to scoff at her fickanlity. how can a person so devoid of human competence suddenly submit to someone so easily, given the right provocation?
your hands migrate from her jaw and slide down to the belt loop of her jeans, your fingers curl around it and draw her hips impossibly closer to your own. ellie meets your eyes and nods, and that's enough for you to unbutton her dark-wash jeans and glide your fingertips down to her soaked underwear.
your fingers slide against her slick, letting ellie feel the touch that sticks to the heat of her slit before allowing her to feel more. you trace higher and she shudders. "don't be a bitch, just-" collapsing into your shoulder before she can finish her sentence—you want to tell her how she would benefit from a backbone, and you almost do, until you cut yourself off with a whimper, and you recoil at the action.
your fingers trek lower until they're curling inside of her and she's clenching around you.
her thighs twitch and she's about to tell you how fucking close she is before your hand retreats and you wipe your drenched fingers on your jeans.
"fuck you" ellie spits.
you look at her—mock earnestly; "you're right, i am selfish." you say, turning around and leaving her there undone to get herself off.
contradicting your entire relationship.
// i am so sorry i haven't posted in months school has been insane !!! anyways i always cringe so bad writing smut so i am sorry if this is booty cheeks. ALSO i will be locking in on here soon so please feel free to send requests or just chat <3
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