You know what, you know what? I’m going to fuckibn tell you my greatest desire, my upmost desire, and imma pin it. keep in mind that this a collection of other people’s thoughts that ive editted a bit and feel so so strongly about and daydream so so often
I want to be able to create worlds. To create new realities with new people and new situations. To just be able to watch and be able to place myself into the worlds with no memory of what came before besides the knowledge that I have this power. Or even without the knowledge. To be able to make anything real, to have ideas and just create it on the life, anythinn from people and tropes and situations and to place myself in them and to watch all of the universes like a fly on the wall. There’s so much I could do, and that’s just humans and earth. I wish to be able to do everything and nothing. I wish I could be a woman, a man, a mother and a father, to not have kids at all, to have ten. I want to try every single food, to read every single book, to visit every place it is humanly possible to visit, and to visit any place inhumanly possible to visit. To become another species. Live in fiction. To learn every single language, to gain all the knowledge of this world and to be completely clueless. I want to be a writer, a painter, a scientist, a musician, a lawyer. l want to meet everyone and make friends that l can't even begin to count. To be a lover and to love, to be both the artist and the muse. Oh, God, I wish I had a thousand lives, this one is just not enough for me.
I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in my life. And I am horribly limited.
You know what, you know what? I’m going to fuckibn tell you my greatest desire, my upmost desire, and imma pin it. keep in mind that this a collection of other people’s thoughts that ive editted a bit and feel so so strongly about and daydream so so often
I want to be able to create worlds. To create new realities with new people and new situations. To just be able to watch and be able to place myself into the worlds with no memory of what came before besides the knowledge that I have this power. Or even without the knowledge. To be able to make anything real, to have ideas and just create it on the life, anythinn from people and tropes and situations and to place myself in them and to watch all of the universes like a fly on the wall. There’s so much I could do, and that’s just humans and earth. I wish to be able to do everything and nothing. I wish I could be a woman, a man, a mother and a father, to not have kids at all, to have ten. I want to try every single food, to read every single book, to visit every place it is humanly possible to visit, and to visit any place inhumanly possible to visit. To become another species. Live in fiction. To learn every single language, to gain all the knowledge of this world and to be completely clueless. I want to be a writer, a painter, a scientist, a musician, a lawyer. l want to meet everyone and make friends that l can't even begin to count. To be a lover and to love, to be both the artist and the muse. Oh, God, I wish I had a thousand lives, this one is just not enough for me.
summary: it's been a week since you and ellie's date. you weren't ignoring her - but you were also too afraid of what she might be. so when she shows up to your apartment, you have pretty mixed feelings
tags: sugarmommy!ellie, rich!ellie, vampire!ellie, lot of talk about blood, oral(r!receiving), fingering(r! receiving), afab reader, ellie's a bit stalker-y tbh, smallest bit of bloodplay (what do u expect), slightest bit of praise kink, this shit is filthy tbh
word count: ~9k
a/n: listen i'm sorry I work 50 hr weeks and i'm writing a book so it takes me FOREVER to write shit but i hope y'all like this one cause i love it. if you wanna be added to my tag list just lmk!
part 1
You hadn't talked to Ellie in nearly a week.
It wasn’t that you were ignoring her. It was just that any time she texted you you could do nothing but stare at the letters for several minutes hoping they’d make sense before you finally shut your phone off. She had called you once, the day after your date, but you just let it ring in your hand until it finally fell silent, convincing yourself that it was only because you were hungover and didn’t feel like talking to anybody. (She, of course, left you a voicemail telling you how much she enjoyed your date and that Riley wanted to meet you.)
You weren't ignoring her.
You were just avoiding her.
Which was different, right?
That night, when Ellie came back into the sitting room with two glasses of water, she had found you standing by the mantle, looking for all the world like a frightened animal. When you had heard her coming, you had set the frame down as though it had burned you, putting it back into its spot on the mantle, face down. Perhaps it was better like that. If you had to look at the sepia face staring up at you and the very real, unchanged face smiling at you in the warmth of this house, you weren't sure how you'd react.
You weren't sure what your face held, but whatever it was made Ellie's steps slow. She came to a stop several feet away, looking at you warily. “Everything okay?”
You had only nodded and politely asked her to take you home.
She didn’t argue, and you couldn’t decide if you preferred that over the alternative. She opened the car door for you, closing it gently once you were settled. You didn't say much on the drive home - your head was still swimming with wine and confusion and the heat still pooling between your legs. Ellie tried making conversation, asking you about your plans for the week and if you wanted to meet up again sometime, but your heart wasn’t in it; it was a million miles and two-hundred years away. You could only give her one-word replies, running your hands over the expensive leather seats to ground yourself.
She walked you to the door of your apartment complex. You didn’t kiss her, only said goodnight and went inside, leaving her standing out in the cold. Although you weren’t sure if she could actually feel it.
You weren’t sure what she was.
The logical part of your brain tried to convince you that it wasn’t anything, that you had just been drunk and tired and way too turned on to think straight. You tried to tell yourself it hadn’t been Ellie in that picture - that it was an ancestor that looked disturbingly similar - that it was just a stage photo taken to look like it was from the 1800s - that you weren’t crazy. But some part of you - some primal instinct that prickled at your skin and raised the hair on the back of your neck - knew that you were full of shit and wouldn’t let you forget it.
You knew what you saw. It was no trick of the light, no staged photo. Ellie had - impossibly, inexplicably - been at that house in 1816.
You sat in the quiet of your apartment, only the light of the full moon and your laptop’s blue screen illuminating your bedroom. You couldn't even hear the normal traffic that blared from the street all hours of the night. The only thing you could hear - the only sound penetrating this deafening, suffocating silence - was your own heartbeat.
You felt so stupid - crazy, really - but you typed the words anyway: What can live forever?
That wasn't entirely helpful. Google fed you an article about jellyfish - Turritopsis dohrnii, the “immortal jellyfish”. The only creature on Earth that was biologically immortal. You rubbed at your aching eyes - you hadn't been sleeping well - and tried again.
Can humans live forever?
That didn't really help either. Now you got articles about cryogenic freezing and uploading your consciousness into a computer - you were pretty sure the former hadn't even been a thing in the 1800s, and as for the latter, you definitely didn't think Ellie was a computer. A computer couldn’t kiss like that, couldn’t grip your hair and press promises into the hollow of your throat, cold fingers skimming over your skin-
You groaned, pressing your knuckles into your eyes. That kind of train of thought was exactly why it had become increasingly difficult to avoid Ellie. You couldn’t count the number of times in the past few days that your thumb had hovered over her name on your phone, your wired, sleep-deprived heart unable to resist a mystery. But this wasn’t some fucking Agatha Christie novel, and you definitely weren’t the main character. This was real life, and until you knew what Ellie was and what she could do - other than have eternal beauty, apparently - your instinct told you not to trust her.
You felt insanely stupid - illogical and delusional and a million other synonyms - but the cheesy scene in that teenage-brain rot vampire movie came to mind: You’re pale white and ice cold. Maybe it wasn’t the most outlandish idea, when you really thought about it; it was no more outlandish than Ellie being at that house when it was built in 1816. Besides, maybe it added up: Her fingers had felt like ice on your cheek. She never blushed, not even after you had made out - a fact that had left you self-conscious before but would make a lot more sense. You couldn't deny that you had felt a strong, unnatural pull to her. And the metallic smell that seemed to cling to her beneath her perfume….
So, feeling like a cheap impersonator of Kristen Stewart, you typed in vampires.
The page was still buffering, your shitty, cheap internet taking its sweet time as always, when there was a sharp knock on your apartment door.
You jumped so hard your laptop slipped from the bed and fell to the floor with a sickening thud. You flinched, hoping it was just a broken screen you could live with. You got up, stepping around the fallen soldier, and left the blissful darkness of your bedroom, flicking the light on in your living room. But when you opened the front door, you wanted nothing more than to slam it shut again.
Ellie stood in the dingy hallway, the worn leather jacket finally making an appearance over her shoulders. Her hair stood at odd ends, as though she had been tugging at it. Yet, even looking haggard in a torn jacket, she looked just as good as she had amongst the stars.
And here you were, standing in your messy apartment in your favorite pajamas, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders.
Somehow, Ellie was the one that looked sheepish; she couldn't quite meet your eyes, scratching the back of her head and fidgeting with the hem of her jacket. Before your survival instincts could convince you to close the door, she said, in the softest voice imaginable, “Hi.”
And you could no longer bring yourself to close the door in her adorable fucking face.
When you didn't respond, Ellie nodded, seemingly to herself, rocking on her heels awkwardly. She spoke to her shoes when she said, “Sorry, I know this is probably really fucking weird.”
“That's an understatement,” you said, surprising yourself with a laugh. You almost felt bad when she flinched.
Frankly, you probably should have closed the door and locked it behind you. You had only gone on one date with Ellie, and she was suddenly showing up to your apartment in the middle of the night. You had practically ghosted her for several days now, and for some reason she had come crawling back to you like a dog. Yeah, it was beyond weird - creepy, almost. And yet….
Ellie shifted, fidgeting, biting her lip so hard it looked like she might draw blood (could she bleed?). “You just…. After our date, you seemed really upset and I've been worried about you.” She spoke in a rush, as though the words were racing to leave her tongue. “I-I don't know if it's something I did, but if it is - I want to make it up to you. Whatever it is, I'm sorry. I-” She hesitated, finally looking up at you through her lashes. “And, honestly, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you.”
You pulled the blanket tighter around you to try to hide your pajamas - an oversized t-shirt from some anime you hadn't watched in years and a pair of shorts so short you couldn't possibly wear them anywhere other than your own room. You leaned against the doorframe, trying your damnedest to look nonchalant - to look like your heart wasn't trying to escape your chest - and said, “What are you doing here?”
Your heart did some kind of embarrassing acrobatic routine at her words. You tried to keep your voice steady, as though your cheeks weren't obviously burning: “You didn't do anything. I just….”
I saw a picture of you looking just as young and beautiful in 1816 and freaked out and honestly I don't know what you are or if you're dangerous and I'm scared to find out but I also can't deny that I haven't stopped thinking about you either.
Yeah, you couldn't say that.
Instead, you said, like a coward,, “I've just been busy, honestly.”
Tension drained from Ellie, her jaw visibly unclenching, that cute pinch between her brows smoothing. A relieved smile tugged at her lips.
“Okay,” she said, a little too breathlessly. She cleared her throat and tried again: “Okay. That's-That's good. Um….” She looked around, taking in your dim apartment behind you before her eyes landed on you again. She noticed, seemingly for the first time, that you were in your pajamas. An amused - almost fond - smile lit up her eyes. “You look a little busy right now. Do you… I can text you later, maybe? I'd love to go on another date. If you want to.”
You sized her up, taking in the infamous jacket and the black t-shirt underneath. She blended in surprisingly well with your shabby apartment complex - down to the worn out converse. You shouldn't have invited her in. After everything, you'd be stupid to invite her into your apartment. You were just talking about how she might be dangerous, how you couldn't trust her….
So, you didn't invite her inside. You simply said, “I was actually just about to turn on a movie,” and walked away. You left the door open, a silent expectation for her to follow you inside. Without looking back, you said, “Do you want anything to drink?”
When Ellie didn't respond, you turned back to find her still standing right outside the door. Her eyes were wide, looking like a deer watching a car barrel towards it, unable to move. She rocked back on her heels, blowing an awkward breath through pursed lips. “Can I, um- Can I come in?”
You slowly turned to her, setting down the empty cup you had picked up. Taking a cautious step toward her, you said, “What do you mean?”
Ellie laughed that rough, charming laugh, but it rang hollow. It would have been imperceptible to anyone who wasn't already looking for red flags. “I mean, it's rude to come in uninvited. I've never been to your place before, I don't want to - you know, overstep, I guess.”
You squinted at her, alarm bells blaring in your ears. “You're not overstepping anything.”
She pressed her lips together, impatience creeping into her shoulders. “So… Can I come in?”
“Can you?”
Ellie blinked at you. “What?”
You took several steps towards her, stopping just inside the doorway - just where she couldn't reach you. There was some kind of panic behind her eyes, like a child that had been caught red-handed. Setting your shoulders, you repeated, “Can you?”
She stumbled over her words, syllables tripping over her tongue: “I- it's rude to just barge into somebody's home-”
“And I'm telling you it's not rude,” you interrupted. You held a hand out to her, careful to keep your fingers right inside the doorway. “So why can't you come in?”
Ellie looked at your outstretched hand, her eyes wide and desperate. She reached out to you before drawing her hand back sharply, as though she had been burned. A low growl rose from her throat, and she snapped, “I just can't, okay?”
Your eyebrows rose, your heart pounding against your ribcage. You should have been afraid - you were so close to the truth you could taste it - but you couldn't find the fear inside yourself. Instead, there was only the warm touch of relief.
You took another step towards her, still carefully inside the doorway. You were so close you could smell that warm, metallic scent that clung to her. Knowing what it might be, it should have disgusted you; instead, you were buzzing with an overwhelming curiosity. A restlessness burned in your fingertips - inexplicably, you wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch her. You wanted to feel the burn of her cold fingers against you.
“Tell me what you are,” you murmured, unwilling to speak any louder for fear that you would shatter the barrier between you - the barrier protecting you.
“Hopefully more than a first date,” Ellie said, that hollow laugh trying to cut through the tension. When you only looked at her, she faltered, that mask cracking just a little more. Ellie's jaw worked, the muscle flexing. She said, slowly now, as though you were a frightened animal, “I'm just Ellie. I'm here because I missed you. I really want to come in and just watch a movie with you. Can I please come in?” A desperate whine tinted her words, sending an embarrassing flush to your cheeks.
You grit your teeth, lifting your chin stubbornly. “I found that picture. The one of the house - the one dated back to 1816 when it was built. You were there.” If she had any, you imagined the blood would've drained from Ellie's face. “How were you there? How old are you, really? What are you?”
Ellie looked like she wanted to argue - her lips curled back in a snarl, her fists clenched at her sides. You should have been afraid - you should have been terrified - but really you were just craving the truth.
Finally, she sighed, her shoulders dropping as all the fight seemed to leave her body at once. She scrubbed a hand across her face and said, “Look, nobody's ever…. Nobody's ever asked me that before. Nobody… nobody cared before. Nobody looked. The people I've met on Seeking only wanted sex and money - that's what I'm good at. But you….” She paused, lips opening and closing hesitantly. “I don't know why, but you're different. You obviously know something isn't normal here. So I'd really, really like to talk.”
You hesitated, crossing your arms. “If I let you in here, how do I know you won't just… try to shut me up.” You couldn't phrase it any other way.
“I'm not going to hurt you,” she said. She brought her hands up, fingers seeming to press at some invisible barrier that separated you. “Besides,” she added with a short, wicked flash of teeth (you had never noticed just how sharp her canines really were), “I'm not particularly worried about you spreading anything. Nobody would actually believe you.”
You swallowed, her words sending a dangerous chill down your spine. She was right, of course. Who would believe somebody who started spreading rumors that some rich woman they met on a dating website was a bloodthirsty monster?
Every ounce of your self-preservation instincts told you to close the door, to ignore the inhuman pull you felt towards her. It screamed at you that this was an awful idea that could only end in heartbreak, that you'd be far safer if you simply never spoke to this woman again. It was the natural instinct of prey.
And yet, like an idiot, you said, “Fine. You can come in.”
With the spell broken, Ellie stepped through the doorway with a relieved sigh. You took a hasty step back to let her through, but it didn't much matter. By coming through, she stepped right into your personal space, so close that you could feel her breath on your cheeks. It brought a rush of memories from the night at her house - you could practically feel the hard bookcase against your back, her lips pressing against your pulse, so shockingly hot compared to the rest of her.
You muttered an apology - unsure just what you were apologizing for - and stepped aside. Gesturing to your living room, you said, “Make yourself comfortable,” before retreating to the kitchen.
Truthfully, it wasn’t much of a retreat. Your apartment was small, no larger than Ellie’s bedroom, probably (you tried very hard to not think about Ellie’s bedroom). The sink was only a few extra steps away from your couch, but the shabby carpet changed abruptly into tile, so it was technically a different room.
When you went to ask her again if she wanted anything to drink, your voice died in your throat. Does she drink? That thought alone caused your brain to short-circuit, some survival instinct forcing you to face reality and change the question to Does she drink water?
You decided not to ask, instead filling up two glasses of water before squaring your shoulders, taking a deep breath, and going back into the living room. It was small, only enough space for a single sofa that had been gifted to you, a coffee table, a TV stand that you had found at a second-hand shop, and a small TV that you bought off of Facebook marketplace. It wasn’t much, but it was cozy. You had set up string lights on the ceiling, and you plugged them in before turning off the blaring overhead light, casting the room in a warm, hazy glow.
Ellie had taken a seat on the sofa, hands fiddling absently in her lap. You set the glasses down on the coffee table before sitting on the opposite end of the sofa, as far away as you physically could. You pulled your legs up so they acted as a barrier between you.
After several long, unbearably silent moments, Ellie blew out a breath, laughing awkwardly. She didn't look at you when she said, “You probably have questions.”
“No shit, I have questions.” It came out sharper than you intended, and you just hoped she couldn't bleed. “My first one being why the hell did you show up to my apartment in the middle of the night?”
Ellie winced; you almost felt bad about it. “To be fair, it's only seven.” When you only scowled at her, she hastily continued, “I told you. I missed you. I… I was worried about you.”
“Why?” you said, unable to prevent your voice from softening. “We only went on one date.”
Ellie shrugged, looking as though she'd be blushing if she could. Her voice was small when she said, “I just… really like you, I guess.”
And you decided to leave it at that.
“What are you?” you asked instead.
She looked at you then, a twinkle in her eye. “I think you know that already.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
Ellie held your gaze; you felt as though you were paralyzed, your body frozen under the watchful eyes of a predator. “I have a lot of names. Nosferatu. Hominus Nocturna. Upyr. Leech. Blood breed.” Her teeth - fangs - flashed when she smiled. “Vampire. Pick your favorite.”
You weren’t surprised - you had known, after all. But your hands shook where they rested on your knees, your palms suddenly sticky with sweat. Your heart hammered against your ribs and you wondered if she could hear it. You weren’t surprised, your body just hadn't gotten the memo.
You nodded and cleared your throat. You reached for the glass just to have something to do with your hands. The cold water was a blissful distraction, giving you a moment of reprieve. When you set it back down, you hoped she didn’t see the way your fingers trembled.
When you found your tongue again, you said, “What about the pictures?” When Ellie only furrowed her brow and cocked her head, you continued, “On your profile. And all the pictures you sent me. All the myths say that… vampires,” you choked on the word, “don’t show up in pictures. And mirrors,” you added, suddenly remembering the mirror in her foyer. You left the question hanging in the air, a tangible thing, until Ellie reached out to grab it.
“That myth was written centuries again,” she said, amusement tinting her words. “Silver… silver’s basically my kryptonite, right? That one’s true. Mirrors used to be made with it, which is why it wouldn’t show a reflection. But now they’re mostly made of aluminum, I think - like the one you saw at my house. Photos are the same idea,” she continued, taking out her phone as though to demonstrate. She turned the camera on, turning it around so you could see her image on the screen. “Film cameras were made with silver too - a lot of film cameras still are. But for the most part, there’s none in phone cameras. I can send you all the selfies you want.” Her image in the camera grinned that devastatingly crooked grin before she clicked the phone off again, tucking it back into her pocket.
Her mini history lesson left your head spinning. You shook it off and said, “Did you ask me out just to…?” You couldn’t bring yourself to finish that sentence.
Elllie’s eyes widened in alarm. She turned her entire body to you, and you suddenly wanted to shrink away from her intense stare. Her words rushed past her lips, fighting to get out first: “No! Holy shit, no - it’s not like that, I swear. I asked you out because I liked you, okay?”
You couldn’t stop the stupid smile that pulled at your lips. Cocking a brow, you teased, “Past tense?”
Ellie fumbled for a moment, her lips opening and closing with no sound, before she finally huffed out an incredulous laugh, looking up at you from under her lashes. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
You ignored the warmth that spread in your chest. Clearing your throat, you said, “Do you… Do you turn people?”
“I haven’t for a long time.”
You weren’t sure if that brought you any comfort.
You didn’t want to ask, but you needed to know: “How many… humans have you killed?”
Ellie didn’t look at you when she said, “You don’t want to know the answer to that.” She paused before adding, “But if it’s any comfort, I haven’t done that in a long time either.”
“So if you don’t turn people and you don’t kill them, what do you eat?” You regretted the question as soon as you asked it.
“You can… feed on somebody without turning them. It takes practice to know how much to drink without hurting them. And I’ve had a lot of practice.”
You decided to leave it at that.
“If you’re not trying to… you know, feed… on me…,” the words felt impossibly big in your mouth, “then can you turn it off?”
Ellie’s brow furrowed again. “Turn what off?”
“You know, the,” you waved a hand over yourself, as if encompassing your entire being, “the weird, vampire allure you have. The intense… draw I feel when I’m near you.”
When you looked up at her, Ellie had that playful spark in her eye again, her lips quirking. She was looking at you like you were the most interesting thing she had ever seen, something new and entrancing. “That’s a myth,” she murmured.
The soft, rough tone in her voice caused a shiver to race down your spine. You asked, dumbly, “What?”
Ellie’s smile only widened. “There’s no weird, vampire allure. There’s nothing supernatural about that. That’s just how much you like me.”
Your cheeks flushed, your skin aflame with something akin to embarrassment, but it was slightly softer, more pleasant. You nodded, and could only bring your lips to say, weakly, “Okay.”
But Ellie didn't seem keen on dropping it. She turned to face you fully, drawing her legs up onto the couch; it was small enough that you could feel her pants on your shin, the rough press of denim against your bare skin. “Hell no, you don't just get to brush past that. You really-” She licked her lips and you tried not to trace the path of her tongue with your eyes.
She didn't have to finish the question. Besides, there'd be no point in hiding it. Maybe you didn't even want to.
You looked up at her, her intense expression making you want to sink into the floor. You made yourself nod, your tongue refusing to hold onto any words to describe it.
Ellie leaned in closer, her eyes never leaving yours. You felt so incredibly small under her gaze. Something akin to hunger flashed in her eyes, the eagerness of a snake right before it strikes, yet the icy feeling of fear didn't run through your blood. No, something far warmer flooded your veins.
Her voice dropped to a murmur, Ellie said, “Got any more questions, sweetheart?”
You almost didn't ask. You shouldn't, really. It'd be like tempting fate, placing your head right into its enticing maw. But your curiosity tugged at you, impossible to ignore or deny, so you said, “Can I see them?”
You didn't want to elaborate - you didn't even have to. Ellie pulled her legs under her so she could lean closer, close enough for you to smell that sweetly metallic scent that made your head spin. Still, she gave you enough space to move away as she parted her lips, watching you carefully.
Her fangs glistened in the low light, the bulbs above you glinting off the pearly white surface. You weren't sure how you didn’t notice them before. You didn't want to say they were obvious, but they were definitely hard to miss. They extended just below her regular teeth, longer than a canine should have been, the tip wickedly sharp.
You reached a hand out subconsciously, stopping just a few inches from her face. Your fingers curled, your fight or flight instincts warring with that same stubborn curiosity that you couldn’t seem to tamp down. You were not about to literally put your hand in the bear's mouth - but then Ellie met your eyes with a hunger that burned your cheeks, her still-parted lips curling up in amusement, and nodded.
You felt her breath against your skin, hot and wet, as you moved closer, pressing just the tip of your finger against the point of a fang.
You immediately drew your hand back, wincing at the sudden sting. The slightest touch had pricked your skin, the point deadly sharp.
“Shit,” you hissed, watching as a bead of blood bloomed thick and red, tracing a line down your finger. You cursed again, popping the digit into your mouth in an attempt to stop the bleeding, the taste of metal coating your tongue. Pulling your finger from your mouth, you grimaced apologetically up at Ellie and said, laughing awkwardly, “Fuck, those things are sharp-”
You didn’t get to finish your sentence; you hardly even had time to register the sudden, intense hunger etched on every line of Ellie's face. Her cold fingers wrapped around your wrist, her grip just shy of painful. Her other hand came up to grip your jaw, tilting your face up to kiss you.
It wasn't like what it had been at her house all those nights ago. There, in the low light of her sitting room, her kiss had been warm and slow, a gentle guidance that left you relaxed and pleasantly lightheaded, like the wine that had still blurred the edges of your vision. It had been a kiss that was really more of a question, one you hadn’t yet had the answer to.
The way Ellie kissed you now felt like a demand. She leaned over you, releasing your wrist to brace herself on the armrest behind your shoulder, her body pressed in a cold line against yours, making your skin prickle with goosebumps. She wedged her knee between yours, the rough denim of her jeans scratching your bare thighs, and an involuntary shudder wracked through your body. Using the hand against your jaw, Ellie tilted your chin just right to press in harder, pressing her tongue against the seam of your lips. You gasped, parting your lips, a heady warmth pooling between your legs. You felt Ellie's tongue press into you in search of metal-
It was too fast for you to process, but suddenly Ellie was back on the other side of the couch, gasping for air she didn't need. She had a hand over her mouth, refusing to look at you.
“Fuck,” she cursed, muffled by her fingers. Her other hand clutched at the cushion beneath her, as though it were a restraint. “Shit, I'm sorry. That was totally - I shouldn't have - fuck.”
Your brain was dizzy with whiplash, your chest still fighting to regain the breath she had stolen from you. You were suddenly far too warm, missing the chill of her body against yours. Your hands that had somehow ended up fisted in the cushions ached when you released them; a small splotch of blood stained the fabric from your injured finger, staining your skin.
Past the haze in your brain and the warmth that was impossible to ignore pooling between your legs, you could only make your mouth say, “What the fuck, Ellie?”
It was like you had kicked a dog. Ellie - with her razor sharp teeth and predatory instincts - hung her head in shame, squeezing her eyes closed. She scrubbed a hand over her face and moved to stand, saying, “I'm so fucking sorry, I'll leave-”
You reached out to grab her wrist, the cold biting into your fingers. For a moment it seemed like she was frozen, caught in ice, staring down at where your skin met hers. You could feel a pulse pounding in your fingers and you knew it wasn't hers.
“Why the fuck,” you said before your own traitorous heart gave out on you, “did you stop?”
You saw the question in Ellie’s eyes before she said it. You couldn't hear her ask it - if you did, the logical part of your brain might catch up to you and stop you. You tugged on her wrist, wrapping your other hand around the back of her neck to pull her back into you.
The logical part of you - the part that fought to keep you alive - didn't matter right now.
Ellie’s gasp was muffled as you pulled her down to kiss her again, grunting when she landed clumsily on top of you. There was a moment where you both froze, your lips locked, and you mentally prepared yourself for the awkwardness that would surely follow.
Yet, surprisingly, it never came. Instead, Ellie giggled into your mouth and the taste of it was like the sweetest drug, coating your throat and giving you a euphoric high. She moved the arm you were still holding, twisting her wrist so she could slide her hand into yours, locking your fingers. Her other hand braced against the couch by your hip, supporting herself as she finally pulled away from you. She didn’t go far; you could see each speck of green and brown and gold in her eyes, could count her freckles like you had counted the stars as a child.
Ellie was laughing, but there was no malice behind it. It was warm, far too warm for the silence that lived within her ribcage. You wondered if it would taste like the wine she had bought you - like wood and fire on your tongue, a sultry spice that was just a little out of your tax bracket.
“What are you doing?” Ellie murmured, her breath catching in your lashes.
You shrugged, feeling exposed under her intense gaze, sure she could hear the tremble in your breath. You shifted, leaning back on your elbows and looking up at her through your lashes. You tried - and failed - to sound nonchalant when you said, “We never finished what we started at your house.”
Ellie furrowed her brow and you had the strongest urge to reach up and smooth it out. Confusion was a cute look on her. “Are you sure?” she said, looking at you like you might run away any moment. “I mean-“
You placed your finger on her bottom lip, her words coming to a stuttering stop. There was still blood smeared on your skin, a new bloom pooling from the wound, tracing its slow path down to your knuckle. Ellie froze, her trembling lips the only part that seemed capable of movement. You felt like you’d choke on your own held breath.
Ellie’s eyes were eclipsed, a barely contained hunger hiding in wait there. You had never before felt so much like watched prey, like a mouse taunting a cat, fascinated by its sharp teeth. Her voice was a low murmur, a heat you could feel against your skin and in your chest: “You’re playing a dangerous game, you know.”
You hummed, tilting your head and dipping the tip of your finger between her parted lips. You felt her shudder, her mouth dropping open, and a flush crept up your neck, tingling in each of your fingertips. Ellie’s eyelids fluttered; she gripped your hand so tight it ached in your wrist. She was shaking under your hands, desperately trying to hold herself together even as she was coming apart at the seams.
You waited until she opened her eyes, looking at you for some kind of relief. You pressed your finger to her tongue lightly, just enough for her to taste the fresh blood there, and said, “The best games always are.”
That must have been all the confirmation Ellie needed. She wrapped her lips around your finger, her tongue warm and wet against your skin. You felt her moan, the purr of it against your hand, the vibration of it tracing a hot finger down your chest, settling low in your stomach. When she sucked, her throat bobbing, you felt it like electricity, as though her tongue were elsewhere.
Ellie whined when you pulled your hand back, leaving a smear of blood on her bottom lip. Her eyes were half-lidded, her breath hard and fast against your cheeks, and you couldn't stop yourself from grabbing her hair and pulling her back into you.
Her mouth tasted of metal - of you, your life. It should have been repulsive, tasting the thing that rushed beneath your skin on somebody's tongue, but it only sent a warm shudder through your body, pooling low in your stomach. Her fingers pressed into the dip at your hip, digging in enough to bruise. Ellie groaned when you pressed your tongue between her lips, chasing the taste of your own lifeblood.
“Fuck, you taste good,” she moaned against your lips. She pressed you back against the cushions, slotting her thigh between your legs-
You pulled back, panting. You tried to speak - you had something to say, but you couldn't quite remember it as you met Ellie's hungry eyes. She had you pinned, her thigh pressing just too lightly where you wanted her most, and every coherent thought you could have had dissolved into the air.
“I, um,” you started, words failing you. Ellie tilted her head with a smug smirk, but something akin to concern flashed in her eyes, so you tried again. “I was just thinking - Wouldn't you rather do this somewhere… nicer?” You winced, unsure how else to word it. Your small, shabby apartment was definitely a step - several dozen steps - down from her fucking Victorian mansion.
Ellie paused, looking around at the small space before you. Her eyes lingered on the small TV, a dying plant in the corner, the pictures of your family and friends hanging on the walls. She took it in slowly, as though there were more to consider than a living room the size of her closet, before finally looking back down at you.
Shrugging, she said, “I think it's nice,” and leaned down to kiss you again.
Without any further protest, you tangled your fingers in Ellie's hair, using the leverage to pull her closer. When she gasped at the sting of it, you couldn't stop the buck of your hips, grinding down against her thigh, whimpering at the friction of denim between your legs. Ellie pressed her thigh further into you, smiling against your lips when you moaned; you could feel each jolt of electricity through the thin fabric of your shorts.
Ellie hummed, tracing her tongue in a hot line down your jaw. She pressed a hard kiss to the hinge of your jaw and murmured, voice rough in your ear, “I need to know how else you taste.”
You groaned, arching up into her. You felt, with a cold realization, her teeth against your skin, her fangs pressing at the soft swell of your throat. She didn’t press in hard enough to harm you - hard enough to feed on you - but just hard enough for you to feel the sting of it. You tilted your head back, granting her better access, and felt her grin against you, a short huff of laughter in your ear.
“God, it’s like you want me to.” Her voice was the purr of a cat playing with its food. She released her vice grip on your hip, instead gliding her hand over your stomach, fingers dipping under the hem of your shirt. You cursed, shivering from more than just her cold skin on yours. You wanted to swallow her accompanying moan. “It’d be so easy just to sink my teeth in right,” she pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your pulse, and you were sure she could feel it jump beneath her lips, “here.”
Ellie’s hand glided up your stomach, rucking up your shirt. Goosebumps raised across your skin, exposed to the chilly air of your apartment. She was right - some reckless, animalistic part of you wanted to know what it’d feel like. Some part of you wanted her to sink her teeth into you and take whatever she wanted.
”Can I?” Ellie murmured, breaking you from your thoughts. She had your shirt fisted in her hand, looking at you with raw want, and it made your head spin. You only lifted your arms in response, helping her tug your shirt over your head.
You cursed, shielding your body, a shiver racking through your shoulders. “Fuck, it’s cold,” you laughed, wrinkling your nose. “You’re not exactly helping either. You’re like a fucking-“
You almost said vampire and bit your tongue around another mindless laugh.
Ellie leaned back to take you in, her eyes raking over your body; you felt strangely like you were exposed beneath a magnifying glass. She gently pulled your hands away from your body, raising them above your head so she could see you, bare and vulnerable before her. She grasped your wrists in one hand, pinning them to the armrest above your head. She traced the other hand across your chest, a trail of goosebumps following her touch.
“This is my favorite part, you know.” She still refused to speak any louder than a murmur, a low growl, as though to speak any loud would break whatever spell she had over you. You groaned when cold fingers skated over your nipple, pulling a smile to her lips. “Seeing someone squirming under me. Seeing their want, feeling it written across their body.” She leaned down over you, her lips barely brushing against yours, and whispered, “I can hear the pounding of your heart.” She pinched your nipple between her fingers, pulling a choked gasp from your chest. “I can hear it skip every time I touch you.”
You tried to lift your head, wanting desperately to catch her lips, but she was too fast. She released your wrists, but you left them where they were, not quite registering the sudden freedom because her tongue - so hot compared to the rest of her - licked a slow line over your nipple, her fingers still toying with the other. Your whole body jolted, your chest lifting to meet her waiting mouth, and you felt her smile against your skin.
Lifting her head, Ellie gave your nipple a last teasing pinch before letting her hand glide down your body. You whimpered when her fingers dipped just below your waistband and you couldn't even bring yourself to be embarrassed about it, because she was looking at you again with those dark, hungry eyes and you suddenly wanted nothing more than to be devoured. Ellie ran her hand over your waistband, fingers coming to grip your hip so tightly you were sure you’d have bruises there in the morning, branded with her fingerprints.
She cursed, fingers tightening around your hips, pulling at you impatiently. “Fuck, come here.”
Ellie guided you to sit up, maneuvering you so you were sitting straight, your feet planted firmly on the floor. She crawled off the couch, kneeling on the floor before you, her hands gently but firmly coaxing your knees apart. Pressing a hand to your chest, Ellie pushed you back to relax against the cushions before she settled on the floor between your legs. Your heart was pounding against your rib cage, and it made you dizzy knowing that she could hear it like music.
Humming, Ellie leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh, smiling when you shivered. Your brain was distracted by the heat in your stomach, so you almost didn’t realize she was talking again: “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. Taking you home that night.” She pressed another kiss to your feverish skin, lips tracing higher up your thigh, her teeth grazing your skin enough to sting. “I can’t stop thinking about how you smelled - sinfully sweet. How you sounded, the flutter of your heart when I kissed you. The prettiest sounds spilled from your lips when I kissed your neck - you were practically begging me to bite you.”
You gasped when she sank her teeth into the soft flesh of your thigh. She didn’t break your skin - didn’t drink from you - but when she pulled back you could see the red welt she had left behind. You hoped it would bruise by morning.
“Stop talking,” you whined, reaching out to twist your fingers in her hair. She huffed a laugh against your skin when you tugged. “God, I didn’t know you’d be such a tease when I matched with you.”
In response, Ellie brought a hand up to press her palm right between your legs. You gasped, the chill of her fingers through your thin shorts like a shot of electricity through you. Smiling, Elle grinded her palm against you, right where the fabric was the wettest. You had to bite your lip to stifle a moan.
“I like to take my time,” Ellie said, raising an eyebrow at you. “I want to watch you come apart for me. And I will take,” she continued, pressing harder against you until you saw stars, “however long I want.”
You cursed when she removed her hand, quickly replacing it with her mouth. Ellie pressed a kiss to the crease of your thigh, her tongue warm against the exposed skin. When you pulled at her hair, you could feel the vibration of her moans. She took the waistband of your shorts between her teeth, letting it snap back against your skin and chuckling when you jumped.
“You smell so fucking good,” she said, voice muffled as she pressed a kiss right where you wanted her most. You tried to buck up into her, to chase the feeling of her mouth and her teeth, but she dug her fingers into the dip of your hipbones and held you in place. She breathed you in, and you could feel her warm breath fanning over you. Ellie groaned, so low it was nearly a growl, and said, “Fuck, I need to taste you.”
The only work you could make your mindless mouth say was Please as you lifted your hips, hastily helping Ellie shove your shorts and underwear down your legs. You had never before felt the rough fabric of your couch against your bare ass and you frankly weren’t sure how you felt about it, but that thought was promptly shoved from your mind because Ellie was hooking her arms under your legs, tugging you closer so your hips were right at the edge of the couch. You let your head fall back when she pressed a kiss to your pussy, just the barest brush of her lips.
“Look at me,” Ellie said, her nails digging into your thighs. You lifted your head to look down at her, confused, and the sight of her kneeling between your legs made your stomach do an embarrassing flip. Your legs tried to close on instinct against the new wave of warmth between them, but Ellie’s hands hooked under your thighs kept them apart.
Ellie looked up at you through her lashes, on her knees before you. Her eyes were impossibly dark, the green appearing nearly black. Her plush, pink lips were parted, short huffs of breath fanning against you - you couldn’t look away from those lips, imaging all the impossible things she could do to you.
“Keep your eyes on me,” she murmured, holding your gaze - you couldn’t even think about looking away. “If you look away, I’ll stop. Understand?” She waited until you finally nodded - nothing more than a short jerk of your head - before she smiled. You barely heard her quiet “Good girl” before she pressed forward and licked a slow, hot line over you.
Instinct wanted to let your head fall back again but, remembering her threat, you forced yourself to keep your eyes trained on Ellie, bearing witness to how she unraveled you. She held your hot gaze as she drew slow, torturous circles around your clit with her tongue, just barely brushing against where you needed her most.
An embarrassing whine pulled at your throat as you tried desperately to press down against her mouth, but Ellie’s hands held you firmly in place. The only thing you could do was twist your fingers in her hair, tugging uselessly as you watched her take her goddamn time. She didn’t lie - she was going to take exactly as long as she wanted.
“Oh, fuck.” You couldn't control the breathy moans spilling from your mouth when Ellie pressed the flat of her tongue against your pussy, licking a slow stripe up to your aching clit. Your fingers tightened in her hair, and you felt the vibration of her moan like a shot of electricity. Forgetting her demand entirely, you let your eyes flutter shut, your head falling back against the cushions.
You whimpered pathetically when Ellie pulled away, the sudden loss of her mouth like a tangible ache. You raised your head, a complaint already on your tongue, but it died behind your teeth. Ellie looked up at you through her lashes, her hair slicked back from her forehead, and those perfectly parted lips shined wetly - slick with you. She untangled one hand from around your thigh, choosing instead to slide her fingers over your pussy.
“Eyes on me, baby,” she said, and pressed two fingers inside you.
You cursed, a high pitched moan hanging in the air before you. Your eyes wanted to roll back, but you blinked hard, forcing them to stay trained on Ellie. You couldn't bear the thought of her stopping again.
Green eyes looked up at you from between your legs, shining dangerously. Pressing back in, she flicked her tongue over your clit before taking it into her mouth, your hips bucking when she sucked. You hooked your legs over her shoulders in a desperate attempt to pull her closer, your heels digging into her back; you used your grip on her hair to guide her exactly where you needed her, watching her eyes flutter as she groaned against you.
Ellie curled her fingers inside you, rubbing circles over that soft spot that made you see stars. In some distant, hysteric part of your mind, you thought about how you were definitely being loud enough for your neighbors to hear you through your paper-thin walls, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care because she was pressing her tongue against your clit, her fingers inside of you moving to the same intoxicating beat.
An overwhelming warmth was building up in your stomach, a heat that you were desperate to hang on to. You gripped Ellie’s hair, afraid she would pull away, because you couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling back, fluttering shut against the wave that crashed into you. She must have been feeling merciful, because she didn’t even slow when you let your head drop back, breathy moans just dripping from your lips like honey, slow and thick and impossibly sweet. You couldn’t think of anything past Ellie’s mouth and tongue and fingers, every sense you had honing in on the heat of her lips. You arched into her when you came, hips bucking against her mouth, chasing a high that would be all too easy to get addicted to.
Ellie worked you through it, tracing gentle circles over your clit and drawing the sweetest whimpers from your lips. She didn’t stop until your vice grip on her hair finally released, your hips stilling as you slumped back against the cushions. She finally pulled away, leaning back against her heels, and when you looked down at her you nearly whimpered at the sight. Her hair was sticking up at odd angles from your incessant tugging, her lips swollen and shining. She licked her lips and you felt like you might die.
“Fuck,” was all you could say, laughing weakly. You felt spent, your chest aching from the breath you couldn’t quite catch.
Ellie hummed, tilting her head, that infuriating smirk back on her lips. She pushed herself up onto her knees, one hand snaking its way to your hip, and you realized the fingers on her other hand were still inside you. She held your gaze, raising her eyebrows as though looking for permission, before she slowly slid her fingers out of you, pausing for one maddening moment, before pressing them roughly back into you.
“Fuck,” you said again, your back arching into her. Your fingers twisted in the cushions under you as though you needed something to hold onto.
“God, look at you,” she murmured, pumping her fingers into you, hard and slow, pressing into the intoxicating spot inside you. “So fucking pretty. Your body’s practically begging for me.”
Your mouth dropped open when her thumb found your clit, sliding over it in the same delicious rhythm of her fingers. You whimpered, body jolting when she leaned up just enough to take your nipple into her mouth, eyes crossing when she slammed into you harder.
It didn’t take long for you to come again, your orgasm slamming into you with such force that sparks flashed in your eyes. You reached out to grip Ellie’s shoulder, nails digging into her skin as though to keep yourself grounded. You thought you cried her name, but you couldn’t be sure.
She didn’t stop until you were twitching from the overstimulation, whimpering beneath her. Ellie released your nipple, pressing a gentle kiss to your breastbone as she slowly slid her fingers out of you. You clenched around the sudden emptiness, missing her fingers even though your pussy ached, overstimulated and spent.
Ellie leaned back to look up at you, waiting until you met her blurry eyes before she slipped her fingers past her lips, sucking the digits into her mouth. Her eyes fluttered, tongue gathering every last drop of you.
You groaned, watching as she slid her fingers slowly from her lips, before you grabbed her face and pulled her up into a kiss. You pressed your tongue past her lips, moaning at the sharp taste of you on her tongue.
Ellie was laughing when she pulled away, taking your face in her hands. She looked up at you, those green eyes shining so brightly you felt like you had to look away. You held her gaze anyway, unwilling to look away from the sun. You weren’t sure what it meant - what any of this meant, really. You had let this strange girl into your apartment, knowing exactly what she was, and had let her unravel you on your gifted couch. You had gone on one date, and instead of finding somebody else to take home to her ridiculous Victorian home, she had sought you out.
Honestly, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, she had said.
You weren’t sure what any of it meant. But, honestly, you couldn’t bring yourself to care right now.
“For the record,” Ellie said, pausing to press another long kiss to your lips; when she pulled away, she didn’t go far, her lips moving against yours, “that wasn’t any weird vampire allure either.”
im gonna make one more post abt this then im done.
lesbians; i love you. i see you, and i hear you. these "men" dont get it. they are chronically online and pathetic fetishizers.
theres millions of medias catered to them but its seemingly not enough. the behaviour of the men on here recently has been nothing short of childish and disgusting.
lesbian characters do not want you. they do not want men. keep your awful fantasies to yourself, and leave lesbians out of it. we are sick and tired of it, and all you are doing is proving our point.
the problem here isnt people writing what they want, its them writing these things to shoot down lesbians. using slurs, degrading and straight up bullying. its disgraceful.
my thoughts are stuck on two things: winter and gently possessive ellie.
it's like any other night at the jackson bar with ellie. you're far tipsier than she is, moving and mingling freely to the music because you can handle yourself in any case (and in ellie's mind, you can do whatever you want because she can fight).
suddenly feeling suffocated by the heat and noise, you think a short break outside to connect with the crisp, cool winter air sounds like an amazing idea. you shift on your heels and ellie immediately notices. her calloused hand meets the low of your back, fingers spreading just enough, veins flexing as she guides your clumsy movements to the door you sought but could hardly reach on your own.
unbeknownst to you, ellie's green eyes darken when met with anyone who lets their attention spend a millisecond too long on your form. a small warning, unmistakable. their harshness softens whenever they fall back on you, watching you giggle while fumbling with the door handle.
you wrangle the door open, and the freezing jackson air rushes to greet you. ellie's free hand braces against the cool wood beside your head to usher you outside.
ellie curses when the biting cold smacks her in the face. you're unaffected, probably still burning from all the damn liquor. you're both entirely underdressed for the temperature. ellie shivers in place, breath visible upon chilled exhales while you lazily spin without a care in the world under the dimly lit holiday lights wrapped around every tree branch in sight.
you catch ellie off guard by pulling her into a spontaneous romantic dance under the string lights, almost causing ellie to lose her footing on the slick patches of ice lining the walkway. luckily, her reflexes are quick, managing to catch herself and pull you into a protective bear hug instead. you two share a laugh over the near wipeout and celebrate managing to stay upright. you linger in the moment, drinking it in until you mutter something offhand about frostbite. ellie's hand returns to your side, nudging you two back inside to thaw out.
pairing. rugby player!abby x fem!reader x rugby player!vi
the introduction. abby anderson, the co-captain of the legends. the thickest, strongest girl around and she sure does pull like it. then there’s vi, tragically pathetic unable to get a girlfriend vi, a co-captain with some of the past game in the pitch but can’t find any to save her life off the field. or will misfortune of missing keys bring the luck directly to her?
the two have done nothing but compete against each other from the day they were born. abby has been a big girl from a young age, taller than most, it didn’t take much for her to bulk up. her biceps bigger than the largest dumbells in the gym, thighs and legs strong enough to kill a man. it’s what made her a dominant force on the field. she’s a bull you’ll try like hell to doze over, but the task is nearly impossible.
then there’s violet.
she’s not as big or strong, but she’s quick. she relies on it for every match. gliding on the pitch like a leopard. it’s because of her sheer speed that the team has won so frequently. violet is also the painful thorn in abby’s side, why she isn’t the sole captain but co-captains. the best of the best coach sev says, the yin and yang of professional rugby.
abby isn’t too sure of it but she’s in it to win and for that it’s the only reason why a bond is forged between them. the hatred they have for each other becomes kinship, hours on the field bringing out the best in each other only makes them win and win, and fucking win. the surrounding districts wanting to know coach sev’s secret.
it’s friendship.
two weeks from the quarter finals, the pair decides to blow off steam and that’s when the real competition between them thrives. until recently, abby had been happily taken, violet didn’t have to compete with the beefcake. even if she’d never admit it, abby makes her feel insecure. she’s smart, kind, and seriously ripped.
the amount of girls she turns town in one night at the local bar, seraphites, makes her wanna shrivel into a ball until all she feels is the a black hole swallowing her essence whole.
but now abby is single and god, vi will cry into her pillow if another girl she thinks is pretty leaves home with abby.
“don’t feel so bad. most wouldn’t last this long with me around.”
“yeah, i feel so grateful to still be here.”
abby chuckles as she playfully punches at vi’s shoulder.
“i’ll throw you a solid tonight then, the after party after quarter finals, i won’t munch all night and you know how hard that is for me.” abby playfully pouts.
“oh, really? how pitiful. that’s actually worse than competing with you. a sympathy thrown one night stand.”
abby harmlessly puts her hands up, taking a sip from her chilled beer. immediately, the bartender starts chatting up with her and abby starts being abby. it infuriates her how little the broad blonde has to try. she slips into this girl every damn gay girl in town eats up like a midnight snack.
each time, she starts it off slow. easy. throwing a compliment your way, if that bite into the bait, they always touch her hand, her arm, or stroke the vein protruding from her bicep. abby shamelessly flirts until they’re giggling, nearly putty in her hands.
a couple hours later, the two of them are leaving but vi is walking home alone while abby is entering a cab with the breathtaking bartender who’s shift has just conveniently ended.
it’s the only night she’s thankful abby left. it’s then she realizes as she attempts to get in her shared apartment with blondie that she’s keyless and no way to get into her apartment. the office is closed and she is so severely fucked.
vi doesn’t realize that’s she just sitting there like an idiot staring until a stranger’s voice pulls her out of it.
“any luck with your mind warping powers or are you keyless?”
vi jumps at the voice, locking eyes with the most gorgeous person she’s ever seen in her life. it doesn’t help you are wearing the shortest skirt she’s ever seen, cleavage spilling out of your top and she admires the white sheer top you’re wearing.
she feels a tad breathless.
that has nothing to with you.
just her predicament.
totally.
“do you have a roommate to call?”
vi comes to it and she murmurs and soft yeah, trying to not make eye contact with the goddess she somehow has managed to embarrass herself over.
quickly, she dials abby’s number, waiting for her to pick up not, once, not twice, but three times. damn fucker is munching right now, vi swears to herself.
but she didn’t say it to herself, she said it out loud where the girl of dreams is giggling as she speed texts abby, trying to evoke a response from her.
“indisposed and munching?” you ask, you’re smirking and vi is blushing.
“yeah, her favorite extra curricular activity and she does it exceedingly fast.”
“is it yours too?”
shit.
oh my fucking shit.
are you hitting on her?
no. that’s not humanly possible for someone like you to be hitting on someone as tragic as her. vi’s convinced it’s just because abby isn’t here. that’s all. her cockblocking stunner of a best friend isn’t here to make her life sufferable but the way you’re eyeing her up like a hot piece of meat should make her feel slightly objectified if you she wasn’t doing the exact same thing.
“right girl, right munch.”
it’s the dumbest thing vi’s ever said but you laugh. offering her a spot on your couch and she’s eternally grateful for. you even have a pair of shorts and a spare t-shirt that she can sleep in. she’s eternally grateful she doesn’t have to sit outside her apartment alone for god knows how long waiting for abby to be done with her seven course meal.
violet planned to actually sleep but then you play a vinyl record on the turntable and it just so happens to be vi’s favorite and she can’t stop telling about every song on the record. she’s so animated as she talks, her powder hues vibrant as she goes into the lyrics she loves the most, what songs made her cry first listen and the songs that still make her cry to this day.
you’re looking at her the way vi’s always wanted to be look at. before either of you know it, four albums later, it’s nearly four in the morning and you’re leaning in close to her, so much so vi isn’t sure she can even breath. a vibrant pink strand gets twirled around your finger.
“know about all your favorite albums but not a name to the pretty face.”
“violet. or vi. whatever you prefer.” vi struggles to breathe even further as your lips ghost over hers.
“what do you prefer?”
“violet.”
you take a pause, licking your lips, slightly crazing violet’s lips. she looks a like a deer in headlight, terrified to make the first move but you like how shy she is, how she voices the thoughts she isn’t meant to. there’s a sweetness you want to sink your teeth into like cotton candy.
“violet it is then.”
putting her out of her own misery, your soft lips mold with hers and you’re dominant from the start. placing a delicate hand on her throat, claiming her with your tongue as you devour her whole. it’s hot and heavy. the clashing of teeth, the pulls at her pink hair, and violet can’t help but bring you closer to her.
still wearing this insufferably short skirt, vi smooths her touch over your soft thighs beneath the fabric. the two of you getting lost in each other until it’s all abruptly stops. she’s funneling her under the hem of your shirt, playing with the buttons until she absentmindedly plucks one open.
“fuck—” you curse, trying to maintain your compose but violet plucks another button and your perfect tits spill out of the material.
“yeah?” violet smirks, not being nearly as innocent as she appears.
“time to put that extra curricular to use then. let’s see how munch of a munch you can be.”
rayray’s nonsense. UM HI IDEK KNOW WHAT THE FUCK THIS IS. um. yeah. abby x vi are my favs and i'm forcing this on everyone but i also fuck with it??? idek. this is a crazy midnight kinda post, spur of the moment if you will. gonna try not to get tew in my head 'bout this. that's for future me to deal with BUT ALSO DO WE FUCK WITH IT???? only time will tell. ALRIGHT. let me work on this mega long vi fic i got going on .... byeeeeee ♡
summary: you decide to look for a sugar mommy and stumble across this strange girl that seems to have more to hide
tags: sugarmommy!ellie, rich!ellie, vampire!ellie (yep, we got it all) alcohol, reader is poor lmao, reader uses she/her and is referred to as a girl once or twice, no smut in this one sorry gotta establish the world first
word count: ~8k
a/n: it's been so long since i posted a fic lol working full time and trying to finish my book is killing my schedule BUT i hope y'all like this this was my fiancee's idea and i'm running with it i got a LOT of plans for this one - plans i think y'all are gonna love
also the drawing in the cover is made by @nramv seriously go check out their work they're so talented!!
if you wanna be added to my tag list just lmk!
You hadn’t been searching for a sugar mommy.
Truthfully, when your best friend had sent you the link, you had dismissed it immediately. She had been joking about it for months, talking about how much easier it would be if you just found a nice older woman to take care of you. You hadn’t even opened the link - you only rolled your eyes, replied with a middle finger emoji, and left it at that.
And yet things kept piling up. The stack of bills on your kitchen counter was growing to a concerning height, a mountain of unanswered responsibilities that was getting harder to ignore. Your landlord kept calling you - you no longer answered, just watched the phone ring until it finally stopped and ignored the increasingly angrier voicemails. Your apartment was an absolute disaster; you could never be bothered to clean it, because by the time you got home from working both of your jobs, you only had enough energy to eat a bowl of leftovers and promptly pass out in bed.
The link kept popping up in your mind, each bill in your mailbox a gentle reminder. You found yourself scrolling all the way up the text chain to find it again during sleepless nights. So many times you would only stare at it, your thumb hovering over the blue letters, before you closed the chat and threw your phone down.
It was stupid, of course. But as time went on, the idea of letting yourself get buried alive under a mountain of debt - of getting evicted from your apartment and having to crash on your friend’s couch - seemed all the more stupid.
So, late on a Thursday night, after you had had another anxiety attack staring down at your bank account, you went back up the text chain, and you clicked the link.
www.seeking.com
It didn't take long for the messages to start coming in. You should have been flattered, honestly - you had at least a handful of people in your messages practically begging you for the honor of paying your fucking rent - but you really just felt like you were playing a part that you hadn't even read the script for. You had curated your profile with all the things that made you appear more cultured than you actually were: going to museums and pondering over Baroque art and reading poetry over a pretentious cup of coffee. Sure, these were all things you had done - you had photo proof, after all - but somehow you didn't recognize yourself. It felt like you were looking at pictures of a stranger living a life you wanted but couldn't reach.
Most people were fine - charming, even. You got maybe one or two that felt like they would lure you into their sex dungeon to murder you, but that was expected with any dating site. You even went on a few dates, scrounging up the nicest dress you owned and getting pampered at a five-star restaurant or going for a ride on an older woman’s personal yacht. One person even took you for a helicopter ride, which was fun but she was a little too handsy on the first date to warrant a second.
One name kept popping up though, a name that was becoming far too familiar in your notifications.
ellie: meet me at 8 <3
When she first messaged you, you had thought she was like you: somebody searching for a partner to pay their bills. Her pictures didn't exactly scream sugar mommy material. Her first picture was just a normal selfie taken outside; she wore a worn out leather jacket, her short hair tangled from the wind and green eyes squinting in the sunlight. She had stupid pictures of mushrooms and candid shots of her browsing a science museum, looking far too excited in front of a t-rex skeleton. Hell, in most of her pictures she looked like she was wearing clothes she had found at a thrift store.
You had thought she was like you, until she sent you a picture inside her fucking Rolls-Royce.
“Fuck,” you audibly cursed into the quiet of your room. You had been talking for a few days, and she had begun to do that - sending you small selfies throughout the day. In the last one, she had taken a picture in front of the mirror at the gym, flicking off the camera, her lean muscles glistening with sweat. Before that, it had been a blurry picture of her dog, Riley - a huge German Shephard - splayed on her back at a park, leaves stuck in her fur.
So, yeah, when you found out Ellie was not only rich, but rich enough to casually have a Royce, you were more than a little surprised.
The selfie was cute, you couldn’t deny that. Her hair was wind-swept, catching in those long ass eyelashes. Ellie’s nose was scrunched up, freckles popping against her cheeks, holding up a peace sign.
She was fucking adorable and you already knew it. But seeing her worn out leather jacket and messy hair against black and white leather seats that looked like they, alone, cost more than your entire apartment complex combined - it was a little jarring.
And when she asked you out on a date soon after - after finding out she wasn’t Iike you but rather searching for someone like you - how could you say no?
Ellie offered to pick you up - like a gentleman, she had said - but frankly, you weren’t quite convinced yet that she wasn’t some blood-thirsty pervert trying to lure you into her dungeon, so you politely declined. Instead, in your nicest dress and heels you hardly wore because they pinched your toes, you called an Uber.
You had never been to this side of town. You had plugged in the address Ellie gave you - had double and triple checked it while your awkwardly chatty Uber driver tried asking you about what you do for a living - but the streets here were so unfamiliar you may as well have been in another city. You looked at the foreign buildings rising up around you, large windows giving you a glimpse of the life inside them. People were sitting outside in the chilly air, laughing over wine and dinner. Looking at them - with perfectly sculpted hair and clothes you would have to spend several entire paychecks on - you felt like a cheap impersonator dressed up in a costume.
The Uber pulled up in front of a hotel, and your heart stopped. Surely, this wasn’t where Ellie had sent you - leading you to some fucking hotel room when you hadn’t even met yet?
You turned to the driver, your home address at the edge of your tongue, when the car door opened.
You had practically been leaning against the door to peer out the window, and nearly lost your balance when it was suddenly gone without warning. You looked up, ready to yell at whatever pretentious prick in Prada was trying to fuck with you - but your voice died in your throat.
Ellie was shorter than you thought she'd be, honestly. In all her pictures, she had this commanding energy, like she would tower over you in person.
Which, to be fair, she was. She had her arm propped on the doorframe above your head, leaning over so she could meet your eyes. Her hair was pushed back from her face, a few stray strands falling over her forehead, and she was looking at you with an intensity that hadn't quite translated through her pictures.
Ellie smiled - that adorably crooked smile you had seen in all her selfies - and said, “Hi.”
And the only word you were able to get your mouth to form was, “Fuck.”
Ellie blinked at you for a moment - long enough that you could feel the flush creeping up your neck and were ready to walk home if you had to - before she finally laughed. That wasn’t like what you had expected either; she had this deep, rough laugh, almost like she was trying to hold it in.
She looked up at you through her lashes - you tried to ignore the way your heart inexplicably skipped - and said, “I’ll take that as a compliment?” Her voice tilted up at the end like it was a question. Ellie ducked her head down further, looking past you to meet the driver’s eyes, and pulled cash from her back pocket. With her most charming smile, she handed it to the driver and said, “Thanks for getting her here safe.”
You didn’t see how much money she gave him, but after she took your hand and guided you out of the car, you turned back just in time to see his grin before he sped off.
“Thanks for coming out.” You looked back at Ellie and found yourself speechless once again. (You, thankfully, were able to hold in the expletive this time.) The worn out jacket that had featured in just about all of her pictures was missing, replaced instead by a pristine, white satin shirt, the top few buttons undone to expose a sliver of collarbone and a gold chain beneath. Despite the chill in the air, she had a classy black jacket hanging from her arm as though it were an accessory. Ellie smiled and looked down, licking her lips before saying, “You’re quite the sight for sore eyes.”
You tried to smile at her but found that your eyes kept flitting behind her, looking at the looming monstrosity of the hotel. It was a nice hotel - the kind that had a huge fountain right in front of it and a chandelier in the lobby that sparkled through the window - but it was a hotel nonetheless. Despite the set in your jaw, traitorous tears stung the corners of your eyes; you wanted to kick yourself for actually thinking that Ellie might be different.
Ellie followed your gaze over her shoulder, her smile dropping, before she quickly turned back to you with panic in her eyes. She stumbled over her words as though her tongue weren’t cooperating: “Shit, I’m sorry, this looks really bad doesn't it?” She grimaced and squeezed your hand she was still holding, scratching awkwardly at the back of her head with the other. “Fuck, this isn’t the first impression I wanted. I could promise it's not what it looks like, but maybe it'd be better if I just showed you?”
You honestly did think about telling her to fuck off. She was a complete fucking stranger that you only really knew from a dating app, and she was trying to lure you into a hotel in a part of town you were unfamiliar with - really, only an idiot would follow her.
But she was looking at you with wide green eyes, the lights around you shining back like stars. While searching for the constellations, you found yourself saying, “Okay.” You blinked, pulled from a trance, and added, “But you should know, I do have a taser in my bag.”
That pulled a shocked laugh from Ellie’s lips. She gently tugged on your hand, pulling you towards the door, and said, “Smart girl.”
You knew that the hotel was outside of your price range because a perfectly groomed doorman opened the door for you, waving you inside with a gloved hand. You didn’t take much time to process the interior - the chandelier was just as grand as it had seemed from outside and elaborate columns rose to the ceiling - because Elllie was pulling you towards the elevators. It was like she wanted to ignore the fact that she had brought you to a hotel at all. You couldn’t decide if that was reassuring.
In the empty elevator, you gently drew your hand back and leaned against the wall opposite her. You tried to ignore looking at the way her pinstripe slacks hugged the curves of her thighs, the fabric straining when she propped one booted foot on the wall behind her.
“So,” you started in a desperate attempt to fill the awkward silence, “if you’re not leading me into a seedy hotel room on the first date, then what are we doing?”
“Okay, one,” Ellie said, chuckling, “this is anything but a seedy hotel. And two, what kind of a date would it be if I ruined the surprise?”
“And what if I don’t like surprises?” you countered.
Ellie grinned. “I think you’ll like this one.”
When the elevator doors opened, Ellie held her hand out to you as though it were a question. You hesitated for only a moment before placing your hand back in hers and letting her lead you out into open air.
You nearly choked on a gasp.
The bar itself was beautiful - fairy lights stretched above your head, twinkling like stars and casting the rooftop in a warm glow. Wooden tables and plush couches were spread artfully around the space, far enough apart to provide the patrons scattered about with some privacy.
The bar was beautiful - but the view was fucking breathtaking.
The city stretched out beyond the railings, open in a way you had never seen before. The skyline rose around you, each building shining like its own little galaxy amidst a sea of stars. The city lights blocked out the actual stars - a fact that never failed to piss you off - but you could see the crescent of the moon rising over the city, casting a quiet glow like a veil.
You looked back at Ellie, and whatever your face held made her grin. She leaned in just enough so that her murmur was for your ears only: “So, was I right?”
You blinked, momentarily distracted by her proximity - she smelled intoxicating, spicy and warm with a hint of tobacco beneath - before you finally said, “What?”
Ellie snorted, breaking whatever spell she had put you under. “The surprise,” she said, leaning away enough for your head to clear. “Was I right?”
You bit the inside of your cheek, pursing your lips as though you had to think about it. You couldn’t take your eyes away from the skyline stretched before you.
You finally said, “That depends on how good the drinks are.”
When Ellie laughed, her eyes crinkled in the corners, her nose scrunching. It was a full, rich sound, hanging in the air above your head like helium. It made something in your chest tighten, and you wanted nothing more than to hear it again.
She squeezed your hand, a twinkle in her eye, and said, “The old-fashioned's to die for.”
You pursed your lips again to hide your smile.
Ellie didn’t bother checking in with the host, simply shot her a smile and a wave as you walked by - you tried to bite back a giggle when you saw the host’s face turn red, her eyes tracking Ellie as she led you to a table right along the edge of the railing. She pulled the chair out for you - “Such a gentleman,” you laughed - before taking the seat opposite you.
As she waved over a waiter, you took a moment to lean your head over the railing. It was made entirely of glass, giving you a clear view of the city below. You could hear the distant sound of traffic, cars racing below you like shiny beetles, but it was like it was coming from a different world altogether. Everything seemed impossibly, wonderfully small from up here.
You looked up at the sound of your name to find a groomed waiter wearing a fucking waistcoat standing before you. Ellie was looking at you with laughter in her eyes, her lips twitching.
“Shit, sorry,” you said, immediately flinching at your own curse. You suddenly couldn’t remember the proper etiquette in a fancy bar, feeling out of place and underdressed even in your nicest outfit. You looked between Ellie and the waiter, wracking your brain for any kind of drink that wasn’t a trashy cocktail you’d find at a dive bar.
Seeing you floundering, Ellie gave you a reassuring smile and said, “Do you like wine?”
Relief washed over you as you nodded. Turning back to the waiter, Ellie ordered something that you couldn’t even hope to pronounce, charm lifting the corner of her mouth. She spoke to the waiter with the steady ease of familiarity, laughing at some inside joke; you briefly wondered just how often Ellie came to this bar. Surely, a nice place like this - at the very precipice of the world, looking down at the stars - wouldn’t be a regular stop on anyone’s schedule, but Ellie and the staff spoke like old friends.
When the waiter left, tussling Ellie’s hair playfully, she turned back to you and the awkwardness of a first date finally set in. Sure, you had been texting Ellie every day for a week now, but you still hardly knew the girl. You knew she liked mushrooms and hiking. You knew that most of her clothes were from the thrift store even though she could afford any designer brand she wanted. You knew her favorite video game was Dishonored. But nothing you knew was enough for a relationship.
But you weren't exactly looking for love, were you?
After a moment of silence, Ellie cleared her throat, looking out over the city. “It's nice out here.”
You snorted before you could stop yourself, covering your mouth; it didn't cover the laughter in your eyes. You said, “You're really talking to me about the weather?”
Ellie opened her mouth, an indignant sparkle to her eye, before shutting it again. It was like she was malfunctioning, opening and closing her mouth yet no sound came out. She furrowed her brows, looking at you as though you were something new and interesting, before finally chuckling, looking away. “Yeah, I-I guess I am.” When she looked back up at you, her eyes were surprisingly sheepish. “Not making a great first impression, am I?”
You couldn't stop the smile that crept up to your eyes. You leaned closer, propping your chin in your hand, and said, “I think you're doing okay so far.”
Ellie laughed that wondrous laugh again, her nose scrunching up, and the cord in your shoulders loosened.
“Okay,” she sighed, her eyes still alight with residual laughter. “Okay, damn. Tell me about yourself.”
“Well now this just sounds like a job interview.”
Ellie threw her hands up in mock frustration, trying to stifle her own grin. “Okay, fuck, knock me down again! You're obviously an expert, so show me how it's done.”
She leaned back and crossed her arms, looking at you expectantly, and it was the perfect moment for your drinks to arrive. Ellie did, in fact, order an old-fashioned. The waiter set two wine glasses on the table, producing a bottle seemingly from thin air. He held it out, explaining to you in rehearsed prose the year, acidity, and complexity in words that passed straight through you. You nodded along even as you didn't process a single word he said.
When he left, you turned back to Ellie and said, “How did you find this place?”
Ellie took a sip of her drink. The lights of the city danced in the amber glass. “Just an old haunt of mine, I guess.”
You took a sip of the wine, taking the distraction. It was warm on your tongue, tasting of wood and fruit and something spicy just underneath. The wine you usually drank was the stuff you could find in your nearest grocery store, often tasting concerningly like bug spray and bought with whatever tips you had managed to scrape together from work. It was usually shared with a friend on your kitchen floor, the walls and thoughts spinning over your head.
You much preferred wine like this: The taste of warmth and fire on your tongue, the cool air brushing your shoulders at the edge of the sky, and a beautiful person sitting across from you.
When Ellie lowered her glass, you could see amber droplets of whiskey clinging to her lips before her tongue darted out to catch them. You tore your eyes away, but her smile said that she had caught you staring. A chill ran up your spine that you were sure was just from the cold.
Seeing you shiver, Ellie wordless reached behind her where she had tossed her jacket over the back of her chair. Standing, she rounded the table only for a moment, only long enough to place the coat over your shoulders. Her hands lingered there for a second too long before she retreated, sliding back into her seat as though she had never moved.
“So, why are you here?” she finally said.
You pulled the jacket around your shoulders, distracted by the smell of it. The same smell that must be her perfume clung to it, spiced and warm like an open fire, but something else clung to the fabric too. It was strangely metallic, sharp and intoxicating, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was shockingly warm against your skin.
“I’m here,” you said, raising a brow and ignoring her real question, “because you sent me this address and told me to meet you here at eight wearing my nicest dress.”
The corner of Ellie’s lips quirked, a grin she was trying to hide. She clasped her hands, leaning across the table so you could smell the whiskey on her breath. “And you agreed to meet a stranger at a seedy hotel,” she murmured, mocking your remark from earlier. Her grin revealed itself when your cheeks flushed. “But why are you here - what are you seeking?”
You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. “That’s kind of a dumb question, don’t you think? It’s pretty obvious why I’m on the app.” You cocked your head, leaning across the table, feeling a strange thrill when her eyes flashed. Your heart fluttered at the proximity, and you couldn’t remember when you had become so easily starstruck. “The real question, Ellie, is why are you?“
Ellie’s eyes darkened, and you weren’t sure if you just imagined her eyes flicking down to your lips. She looked back up at you through her lashes, her voice rough when she said, “That’s a third date kind of question.”
Your eyebrows shot up. “What makes you so sure you’ll get a third date?”
Ellie tilted her head, a slow smile pulling at her lips, and said, “Call it a hunch.”
The waiter came to check on you, appearing at your shoulder like a ghost. You hastily retreated, leaning back in your chair as though the electricity in the air had shocked you, and took a sip of wine that was more than a little overzealous. You tried to choke it down as Ellie waved the waiter away with that heartstopping crooked smile. What happened to you? Since when were you so easily charmed by freckles, green eyes, and smart-ass comments? You couldn't remember the last time you had been so infatuated during a normal date, let alone one with these kinds of strings attached.
“So you don't want to be in an interview,” Ellie said once the waiter was out of earshot. “I guess all my typical getting to know you conversations are out of the question.”
“I didn't say that,” you countered, your throat still burning from your accidental wine waterboarding. “But come on - what girl are you going to impress by asking her questions like ‘Tell me about yourself,’ or ‘Why are you here?’ or ‘Why are you more qualified for this position?’”
“Okay, okay, goddamn,” she said, laughing. Grabbing the wine bottle, she looked at you for permission before pouring you another glass.
You brought the glass up to your lips, taking a sip to hide your smile. The flush in your cheeks was surely from the wine and nothing else. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“I hardly know you.” On one hand, that felt entirely untrue - but especially after this recent discovery, you really knew nothing about this girl. “Tell me about you.”
Ellie laughed that same rough laugh and your heart jumped. “Oh, so you're allowed to be the interviewer.”
You nodded, twirling the glass between your fingers and looking at her expectantly.
After a moment, Ellie rolled her eyes and ran a hand through her hair, but you could see the humor in her eyes. She downed the last of her old-fashioned and, like a good sport, said, “What do you want to know?”
Turns out, there was a lot to know - more than a simple dating app would tell you. Ellie had an older sister, Sarah, who lived in Dallas. Her dog was named after her childhood best friend. Her jacket wasn't thrifted after all, but had been her dad's. Speaking of which, she used to go hunting with him every season (“I haven't been in years, though,” she said, her eyes distant). On the weekends, she'd go to antique stores to look for art and trinkets to fill her house - her favorite antiques were from the 17th century. She hated horror movies and was a sucker for a good romance.
In return, you caved and answered her pressing questions. You told her about your best friend - Ellie laughed when you told her that your friend had sent you the link to the app in the first place. You told her about your favorite show that you binge-watched whenever you felt like you were spiraling. You did not tell her about your apartment that was probably the size of her closet or the fact that you'd have to watch your budget after taking the Uber tonight, not to mention the extra $30 Uber to get home later. You did tell her about your family, and a strange, unexplained sadness crept into the creases around her mouth. You did tell her about your job, but didn't mention the second one you worked to afford groceries. You told her you were hoping for a real, human connection, yet didn't mention that you couldn’t imagine finding it in a fucking sugar mommy.
All too soon, the wine bottle was empty and your chest was comfortingly warm. The lights strung across the bar danced above your head like fuzzy stars, and Ellie's smile was the brightest amongst them. Her glass was still empty, her wine glass dry, and yet her eyes told you she was intoxicated by something far stronger.
“Sorry,” you said, giggling despite yourself. “I didn't mean to drink it all.”
“Don't worry about it, darling,” she said, her voice silky smooth, reminding you of melted chocolate sliding down your throat. She tilted her glass, letting the remnants of melting ice clink against the side. “I wanted to make sure I could drive home okay.”
The waiter arrived then, pulling the bill from his pocket and handing it to Ellie. You couldn't read the number upside down, not through the haze of the wine, but the number of digits made your stomach clench. Ellie dropped a black card into the folder and handed it back to the waiter.
“How much do you want me to Venmo you?” you asked when she turned back to you. You clenched your hands in the hem of your dress, already calculating the extra shift you'd have to pick up to afford it.
Ellie tilted her head, her brows furrowed. “Nothing,” she said, as though it were obvious.
“That wasn't exactly a cheap bottle, Ellie,” you laughed. “Let me give you something.”
Ellie hummed, propping her chin in her hand and looking at you with those same intense eyes; it sent a dangerous shiver down your spine. “I like when you say my name.”
You blinked at her. “Excuse me.”
“I want to hear it again. That's how you can repay me.”
You rolled your eyes. “Ellie, I-”
“Okay, now we're even,” she interrupted, smiling that crooked grin that you had started to crave. The waiter returned with her card and Ellie produced cash from her pocket, handing it to the waiter directly. He thanked her profusely before making his exit, grinning. When Ellie looked at you again, you were still watching her expectantly, dumbfounded. She finally rolled her eyes. “Seriously, what kind of date would I be if I made you pay?”
“You're not making me, I'm offering.”
“And I'm saying no.” Ellie stood, straightening her shirt; when she tugged at it, the collar fell a bit, exposing sharp collarbones beneath.
Rounding the table, she offered a hand to you, pulling you gently to your feet. You pulled her jacket tighter around yourself, knowing you needed to give it back yet unwilling to part with it just yet.
Taking your arm, Ellie leaned in close enough that your breath caught in your throat and said, “I know why I found you on Seeking, okay? So, if it's alright with you, let me spoil you. Even if that just means one bottle of wine.”
You laughed, but it sounded breathy even to your own ringing ears. “One very expensive bottle of wine.”
Ellie shrugged, a sparkle in her eye. “It's a small price to pay for your company.”
You were silent in the elevator, but you held on to her arm as though afraid to let go. You couldn't figure out why, but something in you urgently wanted nothing more than to be close to her. You couldn't remember the last time you had felt such a pull from somebody.
Back on the street, the lights of the city seemed so much brighter than they had before. Ellie released your arm, turning to face you, and there was a strange pinch between her brows that you couldn't translate.
“Do you want me to call you an Uber, or do you want me to take you home?” she asked, and your brain short-circuited. When you could do nothing but stammer, tripping over your own tongue, Ellie laughed. There was no mockery behind it, only quiet, bright amusement. “I meant I can drive you to your apartment so you don't have to drunkenly sit in an awkward Uber that smells sickeningly sweet and the driver tries to make mind-numbing small talk.”
Your sigh of relief came out more like a laugh.
Ellie tilted her head and stepped closer to you, her hand reaching out to graze your fingers, and that sigh was sucked right back into your lungs. Being so close to her made your head spin. Her breath fanned against your cheeks, smelling of warm whiskey, when she said, “Unless you want to come to my place?”
It had the uncertain tilt of a question, and Ellie wouldn't quite meet your eyes.
“We don't have to do anything,” she continued in a rush. She scratched anxiously at the back of her head, a nervous laugh slipping between her lips. “We can just sit and talk more. Or watch a movie - my dad had this huge collection. I'm not gonna - You know, I'm not going to do anything you don't want.” She finally interrupted herself with a groan, rubbing a hand over her eyes. “Fuck, sorry, I wanted it to sound more suave than this.”
And you would be a fucking idiot to go home with this impossible stranger. You had been taught better - never get into a stranger's car, and for the love of God, never let them take you to a second location. You could let her take you back to your apartment at least - you were admittedly incredibly tipsy and didn't particularly want to endure another ride with an annoyingly talkative Uber driver. You could go home, back to your claustrophobic, quiet apartment, and maybe - maybe - text Ellie about setting up a second date.
You were not stupid enough to go home with somebody on the first date.
Except clearly you were, because you took the hand that was still grazing your fingers and looked up at Ellie - the contours of her face were shockingly etched with insecurity. And your dumb mouth said, of its own volition, “Okay.”
You had expected something flashy, like what a wealthy person would own in a movie - like a penthouse overlooking the city with too-white walls and electric guitars hanging, unused, on the walls. Maybe she had walls completely made of windows so it felt like you were on a pedestal overlooking the world.
You hadn't expected a house that was older than your great-grandparents.
When Ellie pulled into the driveway, you were sure she was just pulling in someplace to turn around, that she had missed her turn somewhere. But she put her stupidly-expensive car into park and killed the engine, shooting you an awkward glance.
“Sorry,” she said, chuckling. “I know it’s not much.”
You could only look at her incredulously, speechless, before looking back up at the house before you. You couldn’t even call it a house really - estate would be more fitting. Maybe mansion. Fuck, her house was the size of your apartment complex. It towered over you, three stories of intricate woodwork, warm brown beams wrapping around the structure like an elaborate skeleton. With beautiful eaves winding around the roof and an entire turret reaching for the moon, it looked like something that had stepped right out of some 1800s southern gothic novel.
Ellie cleared her throat, startling you from a trance. You looked back at her and, for some reason, couldn’t stop yourself from laughing.
”Shit, sorry,” you said, covering your mouth with your hand. “I just - I’ve just never seen anything like it.” When Ellie’s eyes clouded over with uncertainty, you added softly, “It’s beautiful. Besides, Ellie,” you added, laughing again, “‘not much’ doesn’t really suit you.”
Ellie opened and closed her mouth and yet no words came out. She was looking at you again as though you were something interesting - something new and exciting. Nobody had ever looked at you that way before, and the way your heart clenched at the sight was more than a little dangerous.
Ellie finally smiled, huffing out a laugh - your heart was pretty satisfied with how often you were able to make her laugh - and said, “Do you still want to come inside?”
And, surprisingly, you said, “Yeah, I do.”
As Ellie got out, rounding the car to open your door for you, you discreetly checked that the taser was still in your bag. Sure, you had agreed to go home with a practical stranger, but you couldn't be too careful.
The porch steps creaked as she led you to the door - double doors (of course), with stained glass and twisting vines carved into the wood. When Ellie opened them, it felt like you were transported to a different time on an entirely different world.
The grand staircase caught your eye first - how could it not? Warm wooden steps covered in a blood red runner, a white banister winding up, those same vines that seemed to be the house’s signature carved into it. You could see a large, stained-glass window at the landing before it curved to disappear to the second floor. Moonlight splintered through the window in broken relief.
As though in a trance, you wandered further into the house, walking to the fireplace situated right beneath the stairs. The wood stacked neatly inside was cold, untouched by a flame. There was a large mirror set atop the mantle, its gold frame a work of art alone. In the reflection, you could see the flush to your cheeks, and tried to convince yourself it was only from the cold. You still wore Ellie’s jacket, and you pulled it tight around your shoulders, as though it were a shield.
You watched Ellie’s reflection as she walked slowly towards you, a small smile gracing her lips. She came close enough to touch - close enough that you could feel her cool breath against the back of your neck - and yet she didn’t put a hand on you.
“There’s a lot more to see than the foyer,” she murmured, the words brushing your skin. “If you still want.”
And you couldn’t stop your own smile as you turned back to her, your heart skipping at her proximity. “Show me.”
She took your hand, her fingers shockingly cold, and led you into what must have been her living room - sitting room? Despite the fact that the house felt more like a museum - like you would get scolded for touching anything - the room was surprisingly cozy. A large, plush sectional was situated in front of another fireplace- this one also unblemished. Blankets and quilts were thrown over the couch and the accompanying chairs, leaving this time capsule looking strangely welcoming.
“Okay, I have to ask,” you said, turning back to Ellie. She was watching you carefully, gauging your reaction with soft eyes, and you lost your train of thought. You opened your mouth but no sound came out; you weren’t sure if that was more or less embarrassing than the several curses you had said earlier in the night.
Ellie hummed, raising her hand as though she wanted to touch you. She stopped only inches away from your cheek and dropped her hand, saying, “I’m an open book.”
You had to turn away to collect your thoughts, wandering across the room if just to catch your breath. The opposite wall was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. You ran your fingers along the spines of vintage classics, an array of science books, and comics, enjoying the irony of seeing Savage Starlight in the middle of all this history. You picked up a copy to keep your hands busy.
“How, um,” you started, stumbling over your words, “how did you end up here?”
Ellie hummed again, and you heard her footsteps following you. “Here as in this town, this country, this world? You gotta be a little more specific.”
You sighed, giving in and turning to look at her. She kept a careful distance, standing a few feet away from you with her hands in her pockets. “You know what I mean, smartass.”
Ellie chuckled, but her eyes had grown distant, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. She took a few more steps closer to you, looking at the comic book in your hands. On the app, she hadn’t struck you as the type to get easily bashful, and yet she had proven you wrong a few times already.
“My family lived here,” she finally said, quiet as a secret. You watched her carefully, jumping at the opportunity to stare at her without those intense eyes looking back at you. Her brow furrowed and she pressed her lips together as though she was in pain, her green eyes shining. “It was just… passed down, I guess? It’s kind of always been here ever since I can remember. I’m not entirely sure when it became mine.”
You tucked the comic book back into its spot between The Iliad and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. You said absently, “How old is this place anyway?”
”It was built in 1816,” she said automatically, as though it were memorized.
“It’s an awfully big house for just one person.” You looked up at her through your lashes as she stepped closer - close enough that you could smell that same metallic warmth that seemed to cling to her.
“It is,” Ellie murmured, smiling. She reached out again, and this time she allowed herself to touch you. Her cold fingers brushed against your cheek before she gently cupped your jaw, tilting your head so you’d look at her properly. Her green eyes were downright intimidating. “But I keep good company.”
You rolled your eyes, yet you couldn’t convince yourself to look away. “Is that what you say to all the girls?”
Ellie hummed, bracing her other hand on the bookshelf behind your head, and murmured, “No, I don’t.” She pressed in closer, her gaze dropping to your mouth, and you felt like your heart was going to leap from your throat. Ellie huffed out a laugh as though she could hear it pounding against your chest. When her thumb brushed your bottom lip, your lips parted on instinct. She didn’t look away, transfixed on the point where her skin touched your mouth, and you almost didn’t hear her when she said, “Can I?”
And you had never been the kind of person to kiss on the first date, but she was looking at you with eyes hooded with want, her breath fanning against your cheeks. When she licked her lips, you couldn’t stop your eyes from following the motion. Her lips glistened, parted and plump, looking so impossibly soft. Somehow, past your haze, you heard yourself say, “Yes.”
Ellie took her time in kissing you. She pressed you back gently, your shoulders pressing into the bookshelf behind you, and touched her nose to yours. She took a deep breath, breathing you in. Her hand was soft against your cheek, tilting your jaw up, and you hardly had to move to finally kiss her.
Ellie tasted just like she smelled - spicy and metallic, the old-fashioned still hanging on her tongue. Despite the cold of her hand on your cheek, her mouth was impossibly warm, her breath slipping between your lips; it was intoxicating in a way that the wine couldn’t compare to. Her mouth moved against yours, soft and slow as a dance.
Your hands reached out as though of their own accord, circling her waist and gripping at the slippery silk of her shirt. She pressed in close, crowding you against the bookshelf; you could feel her chest pressing against you, her hips on yours, the line of her body against yours making your head spin. And when Ellie’s tongue pressed against your lips, a gentle request for access, you felt like you’d faint altogether.
Her tongue slipped between your teeth and you couldn’t stop the breathy sound it pulled from your throat. You could feel that infuriating smile against your lips and suddenly wanted nothing more than to wipe it away. You balled her ridiculously expensive shirt in your hands and pulled her impossibly closer, nipping at her bottom lip, and you wanted to swallow her gasp.
Ellie pulled away, chuckling, but she didn’t go far. She pressed a kiss to your cheek, her lips trailing down to your jaw, and she could probably feel your pulse jump beneath her tongue. You could hear the smile in her voice when she said, “Do you do this often?”
Her teeth grazed the sensitive spot below your ear, and it took you a few moments before you could respond. “Do what?” Despite yourself - despite the way your fingers gripped her shirt, your head swimming and an unexplainable want burning in your veins - you couldn’t help but laugh. “Go on a date with somebody I met on an app for sugar babies and go back to their ridiculously old mansion on the first date and-“
You cut yourself off. You weren’t sure exactly what was happening, and you were afraid that voicing it would break whatever spell you were under - whatever spell made this impossible woman’s touch feel like lightning.
But Ellie only laughed, biting at the spot where your neck met your shoulder. “Yeah, that.”
You shivered against her touch. “No, I’ve never really done this.”
“Guess I’m just lucky.”
Ellie kissed you again, only briefly, before she finally pulled away. She was grinning, her eyes sparkling with those same constellations; her face wasn’t even flushed, making you feel embarrassed about your burning cheeks. You were panting, intoxicated from the night and wine and Ellie. Her absence felt like an ache, your body craving the feeling of her lips, her teeth, her hands. You were close to tugging her back in, your hands still gripping her shirt, but she gently untangled herself from you with a laugh.
“I want to keep going.” She paused, and then emphasized, “I really want to keep going. But you drank an entire bottle of wine, and I’d be kind of a shitty host if I didn’t offer you something to drink at least. Or are you hungry?”
You were hungry, but it was the kind of hunger that food wouldn’t satiate. Still, you let your hands drop back to your sides, feeling your senses return to you now that they weren’t so tuned into Ellie - how she smelled, tasted, felt. When you laughed, it sounded breathy even to your own ears. “Some water would be nice.”
“I can do that,” she said with a smile. “Stay here.” She kissed you again, lingering for a few moments longer than needed, before she turned and disappeared down the hall, leaving you alone in this ridiculously old mansion.
With nothing else to keep yourself entertained, you did a slow lap around the room, eyeing the ironic blend of elegant antiques and silly trinkets that were so obviously Ellie. A cracked ivory trinket box sat on a shelf, intricate flowers engraved into the lid, set right next to a small figurine of an astronaut. Beautiful paintings lined the walls, signatures dating back to 1830 in elaborate script at the bottom, but there were also a few posters littered here and there - bands and video games.
You walked over to the mantle, your fingers grazing over the marble top. The logs inside were untouched, and you briefly wondered if she’d light a fire soon to chase out the chill of autumn. A small jar filled with guitar picks sat at the corner, and you wondered if she really did have an electric guitar collection hidden around here somewhere. Your foot kicked an empty dog bowl, and yet Riley was nowhere to be found. Maybe Ellie took her to daycare when she knew she’d bring a girl home. You nearly laughed at the idea.
Atop the mantle, hidden behind pictures of what must have been friends or family - hiking or traveling or laughing in somebody’s backyard - there was another picture frame. It must have fallen, face down so that the picture inside was covered. You reached out, careful to not disturb any of the other frames, and picked it up. You were just going to fix it, set it up next to the others, but something in the image caught your eye. You plucked it from its home, bringing it closer, holding it up to the light to get a better look. For a long time, you couldn’t figure out what you were looking at. Your heart hammered against your chest, your ears ringing, as though your body had figured it out before your brain did.
It was an old photograph, grainy and sepia, faded and frayed around the edges with age. It was the house, looking just like it did today - the huge windows shining in the sunlight, the intricate eaves and wrap-around porch perfectly polished and new. A family stood on the lawn in front of the house, looking awkward and stiff. Back then, cameras took several minutes to actually capture a photo, so people tended to look a little awkward from trying to hold the same expression for so long. But that’s not what had caught your eye.
It was a small family - a weary looking dad and his two daughters, looking just a few years younger than you.
She looked a little different. Her hair was longer, falling in waves around her shoulders. She was definitely a few years younger, and she wore a sweet, full-length gown instead of a worn leather jacket.
You checked the date in the bottom corner at least five times, but there was no mistaking it. The person in the photo was undeniably Ellie, standing in front of this house in 1816.
