summary: things we'rent looking up for you and ellie... rocky, unsteady like a ship in a storm. but isn't it always like that? ellie never said anything, no, that's not who she is. it's what she doesn't say that breaks you the most.
cw: use of y/n, strong language, ooc ellie, modern au, rockstar!ellie, popstar!reader
wc: 3k
The next couple of weeks passed in a blur of business.
Studio. Record songs. Text Lorelai to reschedule the dinner you were supposed to have five days ago. Go home. Order takeout. Pass out on the couch. Repeat.
It was like the second you signed with the label, your life started draining — slow and steady, like a cup with a hole in the bottom. Barely noticeable at first… but now, you were feeling it.
Not to say you weren’t over the moon about finally being signed — because you were. That wasn’t the problem.
It was the loss of a personal life.
The label had wormed its way into every crevice of your world.
Garret made sure your apartment looked like you were living the dream — evidence of the brand in every shot, just in case the press ever stopped by.
Sunset Records was on your walls. On your floor. On your counter.
Your bed.
Every. Fucking. Where.
You couldn’t escape that cursed logo anywhere.
Sunset Records haunted every surface of your life — except one.
The only real escape you had… was her.
You and Ellie met up every few days, mostly at her penthouse.
She’d show you a good time, sweet-talk you to sleep, and be gone before you woke up.
Her distance didn’t bother you. You’d figured it would be this way.
As long as she was still somehow in your life, you were satisfied.
At least, that’s what you told yourself.
“Els… are you scared?”
She looked over at you, suspicion flickering across her face.
“Of what?”
“Commitment.”
She sighed — not annoyed, not surprised — and turned toward you, taking your hand in hers. Her thumb traced slow, absent-minded circles across your palm.
“Why do you ask?”
You finally shifted to face her too, eyes searching hers for something — anything — that might give her away.
But she was unreadable. As always.
“You never stay,” you said quietly. “You always leave before I wake up.”
A breath.
“It’s kind of ironic, considering it’s your house.”
She didn’t say anything at first.
Just kept tracing those little circles on your palm like she was stalling. Like maybe if she kept moving, you wouldn’t notice how still the rest of her was.
Then finally—so soft you almost didn’t catch it—
“I don’t mean to.”
Your chest tightened.
“But you do,” you whispered.
Her eyes met yours, and for a second, something cracked in them. Not guilt exactly—Ellie never wore guilt like most people. More like… recognition. Like she knew she was hurting you and didn’t know how to stop.
Or didn’t want to stop enough to try.
“I don’t do the whole… staying overnight thing,” she said after a pause, trying to keep her tone light. “You know that.”
“That’s not an answer.”
She let go of your hand then—slowly. Gently. Like the release wouldn’t still feel like a rejection.
“Maybe I’m scared,” she said finally, voice low. “Maybe I’m not built for... all this.”
You exhaled, chest hollowing out.
“But you keep coming back.”
She gave a bitter smile. “So do you.”
You blinked. That stung more than it should have.
Her eyes flicked to your mouth like she was about to kiss you. Like maybe that would shut you up. Reset the night.
But you didn’t lean in this time.
You just sat there, watching her watching you, heart wide open and vulnerable in a way she refused to meet.
“I just want to know what this is,” you said. “If it’s something. Or if it’s just… temporary convenience.”
Ellie’s jaw tensed.
Then she stood.
Just like that.
Her back turned to you as she walked across the room, grabbed her hoodie off the chair, and tugged it on like armour.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
It was a lie. You knew it the second she said it.
But still—you nodded.
Because that’s what you always did.
When you got home, the silence hit like a punch to the ribs.
No music. No phone calls. No Ellie.
Just you, your aching chest, and the piano in the corner — the one Lorelai begged you to replace with something newer. Shinier. More brand-worthy.
You sat on the bench in your dress, heels still on, makeup smudged, heart buzzing like it had unfinished business.
Then your fingers moved.
Slow at first — just chords.
Soft, aching ones.
Minor keys and unspoken things.
Your voice cracked on the first verse, but you kept going. You had to.
The lyrics came out like a confession you weren’t brave enough to say to her face.
"You show up when I’m healing, leave when I need you most...
You kiss me like an answer, then vanish like a ghost."
It wasn’t a hit.
It wasn’t a single.
It was for you.
Just you.
When you finally stopped playing, your throat hurt. Your hands trembled.
You left the recorder running anyway.
Then you went to bed, fully clothed, barely breathing.
It had been a day since you’d seen her.
One full day of pretending not to care.
Of rehearsals and interviews and Lorelai trying to distract you with new beats and outfit pulls.
You were halfway through brushing your teeth when your apartment phone rang.
Landline.
The only people who called that number were your doorman and your label.
You froze. Spit into the sink.
Then picked up.
“Miss Y/N?”
“Yeah?”
“There’s an Ellie Williams here to see you.”
Silence.
You could’ve said no.
You should’ve said no.
Instead: “I’ll be right down.”
She was waiting by the front desk, hands in her pockets, hood up despite the heat, like she didn’t want to be seen.
But she still looked like her.
Unbothered. Dangerous. Yours.
You stepped into the lobby with your arms crossed tight, not saying a word.
Her eyes landed on you immediately.
“Hey,” she said softly.
“What do you want, Ellie?”
“To talk.”
You gestured vaguely at the air between you. “We’re talking.”
She shifted her weight. Looked tired. Or guilty. Maybe both.
“I don’t like when you write songs like that,” she said.
You blinked. “What songs?”
“The ones where I’m the villain.”
That made you laugh. Sharp. Ugly.
“Maybe stop being one.”
She winced. “That’s not fair.”
You stepped closer. “You think I’m being unfair?”
Ellie looked at you like she wanted to touch you, but didn’t know if she still had the right.
“I listened to it,” she said. “The one you wrote last night.”
You went still. “How?”
“You sent it to me.”
You swallowed. “So what?”
“So…” She hesitated. “It fucked me up a little.”
You stared at her.
She didn’t move. Didn’t try to make it better.
Just let the moment sit.
“I meant what I wrote,” you whispered.
“I know,” she said. “That’s why I’m here.”
You looked at her for a long time. Trying to decide what the hell that meant.
If it meant more. Or just more confusion.
Finally:
“You’re not coming up.”
Ellie didn’t flinch. She just nodded. Accepted it.
“Can I call you tomorrow?”
“I don’t know.”
Another pause.
Then she turned to go.
And for the first time in a long time… you let her leave without chasing her.
Your name was on the flyer.
Your photo in the venue window.
The RSVP list had maxed out within 12 hours, and Lorelai swore half of them were industry people, the other half were fans who just “knew you were the next big thing.”
But all you could think about was the demo song.
The one you were about to perform for the first time.
The one no one had ever heard live.
The one about her.
You were backstage, pacing like a feral cat, hands shaking no matter how many times you rubbed them on your jeans.
Lorelai sat on the couch nearby, scrolling through her phone, double-checking that her post about the setlist had gone up.
“You good?” she asked without looking up.
You didn’t answer right away. Just stood in front of the mirror, staring at yourself like maybe if you looked long enough, you’d turn into someone braver.
Lorelai glanced up. Her smile softened.
“Hey,” she said, standing and walking over. “You’ve got this.”
“I feel like I’m gonna throw up,” you muttered, half-laughing.
“You won’t,” she said confidently. “And even if you do, I’ll spin it as some deep Gen Z performance art shit.”
You snorted. She grinned.
“Seriously,” she continued, more gently now. “This is your night, babe. Your song, your story. Nobody’s taking this from you.”
You blinked back something sharp behind your eyes. Nodded once.
“Thanks, Lor.”
“Always.”
She pulled you in for a quick hug and squeezed your shoulders before stepping back.
“Ten minutes,” a stagehand called from the hallway.
Lorelai leaned in, grinning.
“Go make them obsessed with you.”
The lights were blinding.
The crowd noise washed over you like a wave — cheers, whistles, phones held up like tiny stars.
But when the opening chords hit… the room quieted.
You stepped up to the mic.
Took a breath.
And sang.
“You haunt the halls of every song I write...”
It was like bleeding in front of a room full of strangers.
But it felt right.
The lyrics poured out like they always had — honest, raw, too specific to be fake.
Halfway through the second verse, you scanned the crowd — out of instinct more than anything.
And that’s when you saw her.
Back of the venue. Hood down.
Eyes locked on you like you were the only person on stage.
Ellie.
You didn’t miss a beat.
You didn’t stop singing.
But your voice trembled — just a little — on the next line.
She was everywhere.
In your lungs. Your lyrics. Your goddamn career.
And of course, she was here now.
You hit the last note of the song — the one that started everything — and the crowd erupted.
But all you could think about was the fact that she was here.
Ellie.
Still standing in the back, face unreadable, arms crossed over her chest like she belonged in the crowd. Like she had a right to hear those words live.
You didn’t let yourself look at her again. Not directly.
Instead, you smiled for the fans, gave a breathless thank you into the mic, and stepped back as the band transitioned into the next song. One of the newer ones — upbeat, catchy, written for the streaming algorithm more than the soul.
You went through the motions. You danced. Hit your marks. Hit every note.
But your heart wasn’t in it.
Not fully.
And Lorelai saw it.
From her spot just off-stage, arms folded, headset around her neck — she saw how your eyes didn’t light up the way they usually did. How your energy dropped the second the lights dimmed after that first song.
She saw how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes.
She watched you power through three more songs, each one more flawless than the last — and yet… You looked like you were singing from underwater.
By the time you hit the final chorus of your closer, the crowd was screaming your name.
But Lorelai wasn’t looking at them.
She was looking at you.
The second you stepped off stage, your legs went weak.
Adrenaline was still crashing through your bloodstream like a freight train, but your chest was tight. Too tight. Like someone had wound piano wire around your ribs.
You pushed past the tech crew with a mumbled "thanks," and ducked into the green room. Lorelai was already there, bouncing on her toes, phone in hand.
“Holy shit, Y/N—you fucking did that. They’re losing their minds out there. Twitter’s already lighting up. I mean, Jesus—did you see their faces during the second chorus? You wrecked them. In a good way. In, like, a ‘your career is about to skyrocket’ kind of way—”
You dropped onto the worn-out couch, elbows on your knees, and pressed your palms to your eyes.
“You okay?” Lorelai asked, voice dipping just enough to cut through the buzz.
You didn’t answer.
Not right away.
Not until you could breathe again.
“She was here,” you said quietly.
Lorelai blinked. “Who?”
You lifted your head slowly.
Met her eyes.
Didn’t say it.
Didn’t have to.
Her whole face shifted.
The joy, the hype—it dropped in an instant. Replaced by something sharper. Protective. Knowing.
“Ellie?”
You nodded.
“She watched the whole thing.”
Silence.
Lorelai sat down beside you, not saying anything for a moment. Just letting it sit.
“How long has this been going on?” she asked softly.
You swallowed. “Since before the deal. Since the club. Since before I even—fuck, since forever.”
Another pause. Then—
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
You shrugged, voice raw. “Because it’s nothing. And everything. And I knew if I said it out loud, you’d remind me what I already know.”
“Which is?”
“That she doesn’t stay.”
Lorelai’s jaw clenched. Not in judgment. In pain. For you.
“I hate that you’re okay with scraps,” she said quietly.
“I’m not,” you whispered. “Not really. But it’s what I get. It’s all she gives.”
Lorelai leaned back, dragging a hand through her hair.
“You can’t keep writing songs that tear you open and then go home alone with her name still ringing in your ears. That’s not love. That’s a leash.”
That hit harder than you expected.
Your throat burned. But you nodded.
“I know.”
She looked at you like she wanted to shake you. Or hug you. Or both.
“You’re going to be huge, Y/N. You already are. Don't let her drag that down. Not again.”
You looked down at your hands.
“She always shows up,” you murmured. “No matter how far I get. She places herself into my life like a queen on a chess board”
“Then maybe next time,” Lorelai said, standing, her voice steady, “you don’t let her back.”
------------------
{flashback in Ellie’s POV}
She stepped up to the mic, swallowed the lump in her throat, and pretended it was adrenaline.
The lights were fucking blinding.
The cheers thundered through her bones.
She could feel the subwoofers in her spine, the sweat beading at the back of her neck.
The crowd was packed wall to wall — sold out, apparently — screaming her name like they knew her.
Like she hadn’t written this entire album about someone who wasn’t even here.
She adjusted the guitar strap across her shoulder. It was the same guitar you gave her on your last birthday together.
The same one she swore she’d never use for “just any song.”
But tonight? Every goddamn chord was yours.
The lights dimmed just enough for her to see the sea of phones pointed at her. Recording. Capturing.
Making something permanent.
She cleared her throat.
“This first one’s... kind of where it all started.”
She didn’t say your name. She never did.
But the lyrics were a dead giveaway for anyone who used to know her.
The intro chords rang out. Familiar. Sharp.
“You had a laugh like summer lightning—burned fast, left echoes in my chest...”
The crowd sang it back to her.
It should’ve felt electric. Addictive.
It just felt… wrong.
You should’ve been in the front row.
Not literally — you hated crowds, you always said that — but you should’ve been somewhere.
Side-stage. Backstage.
In her life.
Instead, all Ellie could think about as she sang each line was the voicemail you left the night you finally stopped replying.
“I can’t keep being a ghost in your songs, Ellie.”
You were wrong about that.
You still were.
Because you weren’t a ghost. You were every goddamn line.
By the second verse, her voice cracked. Not enough to throw her off — she was too professional for that now — but enough to remind her body that this wasn’t just performance. This was a confession.
“You kissed me like a promise, then left like a warning—”
The crowd screamed that line louder than any other.
She remembered writing it on the floor of her bathroom.
Back when losing you still felt fresh.
Back when she thought putting the pain into lyrics might help her survive it.
Now here she was, selling it to a crowd of strangers.
She forced herself through the next few songs.
The one about the night you almost ran away together.
The one about the first time she called you baby — too soon, too scared, but too in love not to.
The one that didn’t have a chorus because she never finished it with you.
Each time, the crowd yelled louder. Each time she smiled for them.
But inside?
She was bleeding on cue.
At the bridge of track five — the most brutal one — she closed her eyes.
“You still exist between my teeth, in every note I fail to sing...”
You told her once that you hated bridges like that. Too poetic. Too on-the-nose.
You said people didn’t want metaphors. They wanted the truth.
But Ellie only knew how to write about you sideways.
Because if she was too direct, she might actually fall apart on stage.
And tonight wasn’t about falling apart.
It was about arriving.
Or at least, that’s what the label said.
The set went on. Song after song.
The faster ones felt like panic.
The slower ones felt like missing you in HD.
And when she got to the final track—the one she almost cut from the album because it was too raw, too vulnerable—she didn’t even bother looking at the crowd.
She looked up at the lights.
At the rafters.
Anywhere you might be, if ghosts were real.
“This one’s the last thing I ever wrote about her,” she told them.
“If she’s out there… I hope she knows.”
She didn’t say it into the mic. Just out loud.
For herself.
And maybe, stupidly, for you.
Then she played.
Fingers trembling. Voice steady.
“You never left my bloodstream—just changed what I ran on...”
The song ended in silence.
Then the applause hit her like a wave.
She smiled for the crowd. Bowed.
Said thank you like a singer should.
But in the back of her throat, in the corners of her chest,
all she could think was:
You should’ve been here.
But she was the reason you weren’t.
---------------
A/N: holy shit. i honestly feel like im living through this fic and im the one who wrote it... am i glazing myself? most definitely. who cares though? anyway, i hope yall like this, please let me know if any inconsistency in the story, or if anything touches your heart. i'd love to hear feedback
If you haven't heard, the em dash has been getting a lot of attention lately…
Because it was trained on pirated work—including freely accessible online writing (like fanfic, academic texts)—ChatGPT picked up patterns and quirks native to human writing.
Including (sigh) the em dash.
There are other victims here (RIP tapestry and delve 🫠), but the appropriation of the em dash—a punctuation mark beloved by writers everywhere—feels especially personal.
A kind of low-grade panic is ensuing. Writers who once memed their own em dash overuse—the greatest punctuation mark ever to grace the control-freak’s lexicon, frankly—are suddenly backing away to avoid accusations.
No. More. We have centuries of dash-abusing writers behind us. We will not sit quietly while AI repurposes our beloved stilted aside—or the just-one-more clarification the sentence demands—or the dramatic pause your comma could never—etc.
You don’t write like AI—AI writes like you.
Defend the em dash.
(Feel free to download/share/stick it where it matters!)
summary: you told yourself you were over her. that tonight was about the music --- not the memories. but one look across the club and you remembered exactly why she was your favorite mistake.
cw: strong language, fem!reader, ooc ellie, modern au, use of y/n, rockstar!ellie, oral sex r!recieving, fingering r!recieving.
wc: 3.6k
Lorelai, your only real friend, held up a golden swoop neck bodycon dress, eyes bright.
“This is perfect. Try it on!”
You rolled your eyes, but you still took the hanger from her and slipped into the dressing room, pulling the curtain closed behind you.
The dress slid on like it was made for you—hugging everywhere it should, making you look somehow even hotter than you already did. Lorelai’s impatience echoed through the curtain as she practically yelled for you to hurry up and show her.
So you did. You pulled the curtain open and stepped out, giving her a slow little twirl in the dress.
“Holy— dude, you look like a fucking supermodel.”
Lorelai practically launched herself out of the chair, circling you like you’d just walked off the runway, then immediately shoved you toward the mirror.
“I can’t wait for you to come with me tonight. I’m gonna introduce you to so many people—maybe even get your work out there.”
“Calm down, Lor. I don’t even know if I’m gonna bring my demo yet,” you muttered.
Your voice came out small and distracted—your attention was way more on the dress and how it made you look. You chewed on your lip, running your hands down your sides, smoothing the dress even though it already fit like a glove.
“Y/N! You have to bring your demo. How else are you gonna become famous? You’ve told me you wanted that since you were a kid!”
You shrug, not sure anymore. “It was a dream I wanted to accomplish with someone else, not by myself.”
Then you disappeared back behind the curtain, slipping off the dress and putting it back on the hanger.
“I just don’t know, Lor. It doesn’t feel right anymore.”
You said it from behind the curtain as you slipped out of the dress and pulled your regular clothes back on, the shimmer of gold pooling at your feet like a choice you weren’t ready to make.
“Y/N! Don’t think about the past when the present is right here—offering you your dreams on a fucking platter.”
You stared at yourself in the dressing room mirror, chewing the inside of your cheek. Your arms were folded tight across your chest, one foot tapping against the marble floor in a slow, restless rhythm. You were really thinking about it—about finally putting your work out there. Everything you’d poured yourself into since your teenage years. Since her.
It didn’t feel right to just… do it without her.
You took one long, steady breath before pulling the curtain open again—dress in hand, a semi-confident smile tugging at your lips.
“Okay. I’ll do it.”
☆~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☆
You and Lorelai arrived at the VIP club where the industry party was being hosted. Lorelai was already deep in the music scene—and trying desperately to drag you into it too, since it had been your dream for as long as she’d known you.
The sleek limo rolled to a stop, and the two of you stepped out onto the red carpet. Flashing lights and low thumping bass greeted you immediately. As you walked, arm linked with Lorelai’s, memories flickered through your mind—quick, sharp, and impossible to ignore.
“We’ll walk red carpets hand in hand.”
You tried to blink the memory away, but it clung to you.
“Y/N, promise we’ll never leave each other?”
The words hit you like a tidal wave, knocking the air right out of your chest. You lifted your chin for the cameras, forcing a brave face, but Lor noticed the shift instantly. Her smile faltered for half a second before she guided you inside, away from the flashes and into the club—where the music was loud, bass-heavy, pumping some 2000s top-hits playlist that rattled the floor.
And you couldn’t lie… stepping into that sound felt like stepping back in time.
Weirdly comforting.
Weirdly soothing.
“I’m gonna get us some drinks, babe. Relax—have some fun before we talk to the label reps.”
You nodded as she slipped into the crowd, leaving you standing in the centre of the club. Your gold dress made you stick out like a sore thumb, glittering under every passing light.
Then… you see it.
Tattoos.
Clothes that were way too casual for this kind of event.
Short auburn hair.
And that fucking smirk.
She saw you, too. Ellie’s whole body stopped dead across the club. Your eyes locked—just for a second—before Lorelai reappeared, grabbing your arm and steering you toward a booth.
You were still flustered when Lorelai handed you your drink—vodka tonic, your favourite. Your cheeks were already warm as you took a long swallow, trying to convince yourself you were imagining things. That she wasn’t actually here. That your brain was just messing with you.
You finished the last drop and set the glass down a little too hard on the table.
“Where’re the reps?”
Lorelai gave you a once-over, brows scrunching like you’d suddenly sprouted five heads.
“Girl, what the fuck is going on? You can’t go talk to label reps looking and acting like you just watched twelve people get murdered in front of you.”
You shook your head, brushing off her concern with a tight breath.
“Nothing. I’m fine. Where are the reps?” you asked again, suddenly way more eager—desperate, even—to talk to literally anyone else.
“Oh my god, whatever. They’re over there.”
She pointed.
At Ellie Williams.
Standing with two pleasant-looking men in suits, like she belonged there.
“For fuck’s sake.”
You buried your head in your hands, exhaling a long, steady breath before pushing yourself to your feet. Right then and there, you made a decision: you were going to pretend you didn’t even remember Ellie. She didn’t deserve a second of your time—so why should you give her any?
Lorelai talked the entire walk over—rapid-fire instructions about what to say, what not to say, how to stand, how to smile. You nodded at all the right moments, barely hearing any of it.
Then you reached the group.
“Trevor! Garret! This is Y/N—the girl I’ve been telling you guys about.”
Both Trevor and Garret turned toward you and Lorelai, matching pleasant smiles on their faces. Ellie stood beside them, but you didn’t spare her a single glance.
Didn’t have to.
You could feel her staring into you, like her eyes were burning straight through the gold of your dress and the armour you were trying so hard to keep together.
You caught her in your peripheral vision—Ellie’s mouth parting like she was about to say something, only to snap shut just as quickly.
“Do you have your demo with you? We’d love to listen to it,” Trevor said, and Garret nodded in agreement.
A smile tugged at your lips as you dug into your handbag, pulling out the CD that held one of the best songs you’d ever written.
Trevor took it gently, then led you and Lorelai toward a private room. Garret slipped ahead, sliding the CD into the stereo and turning up the volume while Trevor motioned for you both to take a seat on the couch.
Trevor and Garret listened closely, their expressions unreadable at first. Garret’s head bobbed to the beat every so often. It was a pop song… about her. The kind you wrote from the part of your chest that still ached when you breathed too deeply.
When the last note faded, Garret let out a low breath, eyebrows lifted, looking genuinely impressed.
“That was by far the best song we’ve listened to in a while…” Garret said.
“Yeah, it’s like one of those songs you’d put on repeat for an hour and never get tired of,” Trevor added.
Then—like they’d rehearsed it—they looked at each other, then at you, and said in perfect sync:
“We’ll sign you.”
☆~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☆
{It is recommended to listen to Gasolina by Daddy Yankee for this section <3}
You and Lorelai screamed, clinging to each other as you downed shots, the adrenaline still buzzing through your veins. You were finally signed.
“I knew you could do it, babe. I had no doubt!” she shouted over the music.
You smiled and grabbed another shot glass, tossing it back. The liquid burned all the way down—sharp, stinging, somehow weirdly soothing.
You could feel her somewhere nearby—hovering at the edges of the room, watching you, waiting for the exact right moment to approach.
You grabbed another shot from the row Lorelai had ordered in celebration. This one burned harsher, stinging in a way that wasn’t pleasant anymore, but you swallowed it down anyway. Tonight was supposed to be fun. She wasn’t going to ruin it for you.
“Let’s dance,” you slurred slightly as you pushed yourself up from the booth, dragging Lorelai with you. She giggled and followed you onto the dance floor.
♪ “Zúmbale mambo pa' que mis gata' prendan los motore’” ♪
Your bodies moved together, swaying and spinning as the bass thumped through your veins. The world blurred out until it was just the music and the two of you—laughing, breathless, weightless.
♪ “A ella le gusta la gasolina… dame más gasolina” ♪
But then her face flashed behind your eyes. You blinked hard, once, twice, trying to shake her loose, but she clung to your thoughts like a hook. Wouldn’t leave. Wouldn’t fucking stop.
You stopped dancing. Your gaze swept the room—fast, frantic—until it landed on her.
Ellie.
Already staring at you.
Already sporting that stupid smirk.
God, you wanted to wipe it off her face so bad.
Lorelai got distracted by some random guy, and now she was grinding her ass on his bulge. Fucking gross. You shot her a look, sighed hard, and turned away. Whatever. Let her have her fun.
You headed for the bar instead, hoping you could drown the thoughts clawing at your brain with another hit of vodka.
You ordered your signature tonic and downed it the second the bartender set it in front of you, not even giving yourself time to thank him. You wiped a stray drip from your chin, fingers clamped around the glass like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. You were fighting—hard—against the thing you wanted to do so fucking badly.
“Fuck it.”
You slammed the glass onto the counter, tossed the bartender a twenty, and turned around.
She was right there.
Directly across the club.
Her eyes locked on you like she wanted to devour you whole.
You started walking toward her, and the world seemed to slow around you. Your gaze dragged over the way her muscles shifted under the tight shirt she was wearing—and fuck, it was sexy.
You stood in front of her, and her smirk wasn’t even close to being wiped off.
“Long time, no see, hm?”
Her voice curled around you like smoke—teasing, smug, way too pleased with herself. She leaned back against the wall like she owned it, like she owned the whole damn club, eyes dragging over you slow enough to make your pulse jump.
You swallowed, trying not to show it.
“Didn’t realise you missed me,” you said, keeping your tone flat, cool, controlled.
Her smirk deepened. “Oh, please. You think I didn’t see you staring the second you walked in? You practically announced yourself.”
She pushed off the wall, stepping into your space—not close enough to touch, but close enough that you felt the heat of her. Close enough to remind you exactly why seeing her again had thrown your whole night off balance.
“Relax,” she added softly, eyes glinting under the club lights, “I’m just saying hi.”
But the way she said it didn’t sound like hi at all. It sounded like a challenge—a spark. A door you weren’t sure you wanted to open again… but couldn’t deny was tempting.
“Right,” you murmured, forcing yourself to look unimpressed. “Hi.”
She laughed—a low, satisfied sound—like she’d already won something you didn’t realise you were playing for.
Her fingers dragged softly up your forearm, like a taunt—she was showing you she definitely still owned you.
Her touch sent a shiver down your spine, though you still maintained your poised manner.
“Why’d you come over here, y/n?” Her question didn’t hold the bite her voice usually had; it was like she was genuinely curious, wanting to know why you would risk your entire perfect night for an interaction that wouldn’t last ten minutes.
“I don’t know, I just… did.”
Her hand trailed your shoulder, then your neck, and eventually your jawline. You lifted your chin a bit, trying to contain yourself, but she just inched her face toward yours.
“Tell me why.”
You took a deep breath before speaking again, a quiver betraying you the second it hit your voice.
“I don’t know, Ellie.”
She tilted her head at you like she was studying something pathetic, something predictable. That slow, cruel smirk curled back onto her face.
“Yeah. You do,” she murmured—then, without giving you a chance to argue—
“Come with me.”
It wasn’t a question. Ellie never asked you for anything. She issued orders—softly, calmly—because she already knew you’d obey. And the worst part? She was right.
Her fingers wrapped around your wrist, cold and sure, guiding you toward the hallway like she was leading a pet. Two guards blocked the entrance, but the moment they recognised her, they didn’t just step aside—they practically scrambled out of her way.
She didn’t even thank them.
She didn’t have to.
Ellie yanked you down the hallway and shoved open a private bathroom door. The lock clicked the second you crossed the threshold, and suddenly it was just you, her, and the sound of your pulse slamming in your ears.
You looked at her with suspicion—or maybe fear—you weren’t sure. She was.
Because deep down, you already knew exactly where this night was going. And she knew you weren’t going to stop it.
“How much did you miss me?” she asked, stepping into your space like it belonged to her. She pinned you to the wall, her grip on your waist bruising, claiming.
“I didn’t.”
Another lie. And she didn’t even have to call you out on it—she saw it all over you.
Ellie dragged her other hand up your body in a slow, taunting path, her knuckles brushing your breast just because she could. Her fingers slipped around your neck, not squeezing—just holding. Controlling. Reminding you who you were with.
Her face hovered inches from yours, so close you could feel her smirk on your skin.
And you didn’t turn away. You didn’t even try.
“The way you’re standing here,” she whispered, her thumb stroking your pulse like she owned it, “letting me touch you like this? Yeah… that’s your real answer.”
You inhaled shakily, trying to keep some shred of composure, but it was useless around her. Ellie had a hold on you no one else ever came close to—because she studied you, carved you apart piece by piece until she knew every switch to flip. What made you tick. What made you whimper. What dragged your voice into a broken scream with her name on it. And the worst part?
You could see it in her eyes—she fully intended to remind you exactly who you belonged to.
“Tell me what you want.” Her voice dropped to an almost-whisper, low enough to feel dangerous. Her grip on your waist tightened, just shy of painful—on purpose. It made you squirm, and she definitely noticed.
“I don’t know.”
Ellie let out a quiet laugh, one that held zero humour.
“You do. You always do. And I’ll make sure you remember.”
Then she kissed you — hard. Not soft. Not sorry. Not the kind of kiss two people share after years apart. Ellie didn’t do gentle. She kissed like she owned the air in your lungs, like if she pressed hard enough, she could pull your memories straight from your skull. A kiss that made the room tilt, made your fingers twitch toward her like they’d never forgotten how to reach.
And she knew it.
She always knew.
You kissed her back. Of course you did. You’d known — deep down — this was where every word tonight had been headed. Hell, you knew it the second you saw her across the club. She wasn’t just familiar — she was the part of you you’d pretended you didn’t need.
Her hand slid from your waist and disappeared under your dress, lips still fused to yours like she was trying to rewrite history through contact alone. Her fingers hooked around the thin strap of your thong — and when she tugged, it drew a whimper from your throat.
That’s when she pulled back, breath grazing your lips like a dare.
“Do you know what you want now, baby?”
You nodded — of course you did. You’d known before she ever opened her fucking mouth. But you weren’t going to give her the satisfaction just yet.
“Tell me.”
You bit your lip, head tilted, pulse pounding, her fingers pushing the soaked fabric aside.
“I want you to fuck me, Ellie.”
She smirked — slow, triumphant. That was what she wanted. Your surrender. Your submission.
And you gave it.
Two fingers plunged inside you without warning.
Your back arched like a live wire had snapped through you, hands flying to her hair, gripping tight like she was the last thread holding you to earth.
“Look at me,” she said — low and steady, soaked in control.
You lifted your eyes, breath ragged, body betraying every ounce of resistance you’d tried to hold onto. She didn’t just know how to touch you — she knew how to unravel you.
“Fuck, Els… please—don’t stop.”
She smirked wider, her pace quickening, fingers curling like she’d been waiting to ruin you all night.
“That’s my girl. Let me take care of you.”
Her fingers slowed suddenly, dragging deliberate tension through your hips, her eyes locked on yours like she had all the time in the world.
“I know you missed me,” she said, curling her fingers inside you again — deep and purposeful. Your back arched. Your breath hitched.
“Did you think of me while you were fucking other girls, hmm?”
She was taunting you — and god, she was good at it.
“Ellie…”
She shook her head, pace snapping faster again. She could feel it — you were close.
“You know how I make you feel. Say it.”
“It’s—fuck—so good, Els. So fucking—”
Her fingers hit that spot again, and a helpless whimper broke from your lips.
“—Good.”
“Yeah?” she whispered.
Then she pulled out — and you nearly cried from the loss. But you still looked at her like she was the only thing you’d ever wanted.
“Open your mouth for me, baby.”
You did. She slid her fingers between your lips, and you sucked them in without hesitation — licking your own wetness off her skin, tongue curling around the taste like it belonged to you.
Her eyes never left yours.
“That’s it. Good girl.”
She withdrew slowly, savouring it — and then she dropped to her knees like it meant nothing. Like this was routine. Like she owned you. Because she did.
Her hands slipped under your dress, pushing it up to bunch at your waist. Her face hovered inches from your cunt, breath hot and steady.
“Tell me you want me,” she murmured, voice low enough to vibrate straight through you.
“Please, Ellie,” you breathed. “I want you so bad.”
She smirked — slow and smug — before dragging her tongue in one deliberate stripe up your soaked, pulsing clit.
The contact alone nearly undid you.
Your hips jolted, thighs twitching, but she caught your reaction instantly. Her hands gripped your legs and swung them over her shoulders, locking you in. Now, she was the only thing holding you up — the only thing keeping you tethered.
She kissed your swollen clit again, softer this time, and looked up at you with that look — the one that always felt like a threat and a promise all at once.
“Ask nicely, baby.”
You bit your lip, pulse thundering. God, you hated how much you loved the way she made you beg.
“Please, Ellie,” you breathed. “Please — I want your mouth on me. Need it.”
That was all she needed.
Her lips curved with satisfaction, and she dove in — like you were a five-course meal she’d been starving for.
You swear you were seeing stars — heels digging into Ellie’s back, one hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping the counter like it was the only thing keeping you from floating away. Moans poured out of you like a waterfall; she was fucking ruining you.
Her mouth worked magic between your legs — tongue moving in swift, circular motions over your clit, thumb pressing at just the right spot. It was precise. Intentional. She knew your body like it belonged to her.
And right now, it did.
“Let go for me. Let me taste you properly, love.”
And like clockwork, you did — falling apart on her tongue, every muscle giving out as she slurped up your release like she’d been starving for it.
When she finally set your legs back on solid ground, they barely held you. Shaking. Weak. Like jelly and cement at the same time.
She gave you one last look from between your thighs, then dragged her thumb across her bottom lip — slow, deliberate — before rising to stand over you.
“You’re such a good girl for me.”
She kissed you — just like before. Deep. Certain. Possessive.
And as her lips stayed pressed to yours, she tugged your dress back down, fixing you without ever pulling away.
You pulled away this time, arms looping around her neck as you met her gaze.
“You gonna disappear on me again, then?”
Something in your voice hit her — and for a second, just a second, her eyes softened. That same flicker of vulnerability from when you were young flashed through her, raw and unguarded.
“Do you want me to?”
“No.”
“Then I won’t.”
☆~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☆
a/n: holy SHIT this chapter was so complicated to write, not only was this MORE than double the wc from last chapter, I have learned that me and writing smug do not mix. it's like oil and water. BUT I hope yall enjoyed ch2, ch3 will be coming soon!! [I have made a playlist for this series and I'm gonna link it up top of every one of the upcoming chapter and go back and link it in the first chapter AND this one!!]
summary: you told yourself you were over her. that tonight was about the music --- not the memories. but one look across the club and you remembered exactly why she was your favorite mistake.
cw: strong language, fem!reader, ooc ellie, modern au, use of y/n, rockstar!ellie, oral sex r!recieving, fingering r!recieving.
wc: 3.6k
☆~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ☆ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☆
Lorelai, your only real friend, held up a golden swoop neck bodycon dress, eyes bright.
“This is perfect. Try it on!”
You rolled your eyes, but you still took the hanger from her and slipped into the dressing room, pulling the curtain closed behind you.
The dress slid on like it was made for you—hugging everywhere it should, making you look somehow even hotter than you already did. Lorelai’s impatience echoed through the curtain as she practically yelled for you to hurry up and show her.
So you did. You pulled the curtain open and stepped out, giving her a slow little twirl in the dress.
“Holy— dude, you look like a fucking supermodel.”
Lorelai practically launched herself out of the chair, circling you like you’d just walked off the runway, then immediately shoved you toward the mirror.
“I can’t wait for you to come with me tonight. I’m gonna introduce you to so many people—maybe even get your work out there.”
“Calm down, Lor. I don’t even know if I’m gonna bring my demo yet,” you muttered.
Your voice came out small and distracted—your attention was way more on the dress and how it made you look. You chewed on your lip, running your hands down your sides, smoothing the dress even though it already fit like a glove.
“Y/N! You have to bring your demo. How else are you gonna become famous? You’ve told me you wanted that since you were a kid!”
You shrug, not sure anymore. “It was a dream I wanted to accomplish with someone else, not by myself.”
Then you disappeared back behind the curtain, slipping off the dress and putting it back on the hanger.
“I just don’t know, Lor. It doesn’t feel right anymore.”
You said it from behind the curtain as you slipped out of the dress and pulled your regular clothes back on, the shimmer of gold pooling at your feet like a choice you weren’t ready to make.
“Y/N! Don’t think about the past when the present is right here—offering you your dreams on a fucking platter.”
You stared at yourself in the dressing room mirror, chewing the inside of your cheek. Your arms were folded tight across your chest, one foot tapping against the marble floor in a slow, restless rhythm. You were really thinking about it—about finally putting your work out there. Everything you’d poured yourself into since your teenage years. Since her.
It didn’t feel right to just… do it without her.
You took one long, steady breath before pulling the curtain open again—dress in hand, a semi-confident smile tugging at your lips.
“Okay. I’ll do it.”
☆~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ☆ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☆
You and Lorelai arrived at the VIP club where the industry party was being hosted. Lorelai was already deep in the music scene—and trying desperately to drag you into it too, since it had been your dream for as long as she’d known you.
The sleek limo rolled to a stop, and the two of you stepped out onto the red carpet. Flashing lights and low thumping bass greeted you immediately. As you walked, arm linked with Lorelai’s, memories flickered through your mind—quick, sharp, and impossible to ignore.
“We’ll walk red carpets hand in hand.”
You tried to blink the memory away, but it clung to you.
“Y/N, promise we’ll never leave each other?”
The words hit you like a tidal wave, knocking the air right out of your chest. You lifted your chin for the cameras, forcing a brave face, but Lor noticed the shift instantly. Her smile faltered for half a second before she guided you inside, away from the flashes and into the club—where the music was loud, bass-heavy, pumping some 2000s top-hits playlist that rattled the floor.
And you couldn’t lie… stepping into that sound felt like stepping back in time.
Weirdly comforting.
Weirdly soothing.
“I’m gonna get us some drinks, babe. Relax—have some fun before we talk to the label reps.”
You nodded as she slipped into the crowd, leaving you standing in the centre of the club. Your gold dress made you stick out like a sore thumb, glittering under every passing light.
Then… you see it.
Tattoos.
Clothes that were way too casual for this kind of event.
Short auburn hair.
And that fucking smirk.
She saw you, too. Ellie’s whole body stopped dead across the club. Your eyes locked—just for a second—before Lorelai reappeared, grabbing your arm and steering you toward a booth.
You were still flustered when Lorelai handed you your drink—vodka tonic, your favourite. Your cheeks were already warm as you took a long swallow, trying to convince yourself you were imagining things. That she wasn’t actually here. That your brain was just messing with you.
You finished the last drop and set the glass down a little too hard on the table.
“Where’re the reps?”
Lorelai gave you a once-over, brows scrunching like you’d suddenly sprouted five heads.
“Girl, what the fuck is going on? You can’t go talk to label reps looking and acting like you just watched twelve people get murdered in front of you.”
You shook your head, brushing off her concern with a tight breath.
“Nothing. I’m fine. Where are the reps?” you asked again, suddenly way more eager—desperate, even—to talk to literally anyone else.
“Oh my god, whatever. They’re over there.”
She pointed.
At Ellie Williams.
Standing with two pleasant-looking men in suits, like she belonged there.
“For fuck’s sake.”
You buried your head in your hands, exhaling a long, steady breath before pushing yourself to your feet. Right then and there, you made a decision: you were going to pretend you didn’t even remember Ellie. She didn’t deserve a second of your time—so why should you give her any?
Lorelai talked the entire walk over—rapid-fire instructions about what to say, what not to say, how to stand, how to smile. You nodded at all the right moments, barely hearing any of it.
Then you reached the group.
“Trevor! Garret! This is Y/N—the girl I’ve been telling you guys about.”
Both Trevor and Garret turned toward you and Lorelai, matching pleasant smiles on their faces. Ellie stood beside them, but you didn’t spare her a single glance.
Didn’t have to.
You could feel her staring into you, like her eyes were burning straight through the gold of your dress and the armour you were trying so hard to keep together.
You caught her in your peripheral vision—Ellie’s mouth parting like she was about to say something, only to snap shut just as quickly.
“Do you have your demo with you? We’d love to listen to it,” Trevor said, and Garret nodded in agreement.
A smile tugged at your lips as you dug into your handbag, pulling out the CD that held one of the best songs you’d ever written.
Trevor took it gently, then led you and Lorelai toward a private room. Garret slipped ahead, sliding the CD into the stereo and turning up the volume while Trevor motioned for you both to take a seat on the couch.
Trevor and Garret listened closely, their expressions unreadable at first. Garret’s head bobbed to the beat every so often. It was a pop song… about her. The kind you wrote from the part of your chest that still ached when you breathed too deeply.
When the last note faded, Garret let out a low breath, eyebrows lifted, looking genuinely impressed.
“That was by far the best song we’ve listened to in a while…” Garret said.
“Yeah, it’s like one of those songs you’d put on repeat for an hour and never get tired of,” Trevor added.
Then—like they’d rehearsed it—they looked at each other, then at you, and said in perfect sync:
“We’ll sign you.”
☆~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ☆ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☆
{It is recommended to listen to Gasolina by Daddy Yankee for this section <3}
You and Lorelai screamed, clinging to each other as you downed shots, the adrenaline still buzzing through your veins. You were finally signed.
“I knew you could do it, babe. I had no doubt!” she shouted over the music.
You smiled and grabbed another shot glass, tossing it back. The liquid burned all the way down—sharp, stinging, somehow weirdly soothing.
You could feel her somewhere nearby—hovering at the edges of the room, watching you, waiting for the exact right moment to approach.
You grabbed another shot from the row Lorelai had ordered in celebration. This one burned harsher, stinging in a way that wasn’t pleasant anymore, but you swallowed it down anyway. Tonight was supposed to be fun. She wasn’t going to ruin it for you.
“Let’s dance,” you slurred slightly as you pushed yourself up from the booth, dragging Lorelai with you. She giggled and followed you onto the dance floor.
♪ “Zúmbale mambo pa' que mis gata' prendan los motore’” ♪
Your bodies moved together, swaying and spinning as the bass thumped through your veins. The world blurred out until it was just the music and the two of you—laughing, breathless, weightless.
♪ “A ella le gusta la gasolina… dame más gasolina” ♪
But then her face flashed behind your eyes. You blinked hard, once, twice, trying to shake her loose, but she clung to your thoughts like a hook. Wouldn’t leave. Wouldn’t fucking stop.
You stopped dancing. Your gaze swept the room—fast, frantic—until it landed on her.
Ellie.
Already staring at you.
Already sporting that stupid smirk.
God, you wanted to wipe it off her face so bad.
Lorelai got distracted by some random guy, and now she was grinding her ass on his bulge. Fucking gross. You shot her a look, sighed hard, and turned away. Whatever. Let her have her fun.
You headed for the bar instead, hoping you could drown the thoughts clawing at your brain with another hit of vodka.
You ordered your signature tonic and downed it the second the bartender set it in front of you, not even giving yourself time to thank him. You wiped a stray drip from your chin, fingers clamped around the glass like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. You were fighting—hard—against the thing you wanted to do so fucking badly.
“Fuck it.”
You slammed the glass onto the counter, tossed the bartender a twenty, and turned around.
She was right there.
Directly across the club.
Her eyes locked on you like she wanted to devour you whole.
You started walking toward her, and the world seemed to slow around you. Your gaze dragged over the way her muscles shifted under the tight shirt she was wearing—and fuck, it was sexy.
You stood in front of her, and her smirk wasn’t even close to being wiped off.
“Long time, no see, hm?”
Her voice curled around you like smoke—teasing, smug, way too pleased with herself. She leaned back against the wall like she owned it, like she owned the whole damn club, eyes dragging over you slow enough to make your pulse jump.
You swallowed, trying not to show it.
“Didn’t realise you missed me,” you said, keeping your tone flat, cool, controlled.
Her smirk deepened. “Oh, please. You think I didn’t see you staring the second you walked in? You practically announced yourself.”
She pushed off the wall, stepping into your space—not close enough to touch, but close enough that you felt the heat of her. Close enough to remind you exactly why seeing her again had thrown your whole night off balance.
“Relax,” she added softly, eyes glinting under the club lights, “I’m just saying hi.”
But the way she said it didn’t sound like hi at all. It sounded like a challenge—a spark. A door you weren’t sure you wanted to open again… but couldn’t deny was tempting.
“Right,” you murmured, forcing yourself to look unimpressed. “Hi.”
She laughed—a low, satisfied sound—like she’d already won something you didn’t realise you were playing for.
Her fingers dragged softly up your forearm, like a taunt—she was showing you she definitely still owned you.
Her touch sent a shiver down your spine, though you still maintained your poised manner.
“Why’d you come over here, y/n?” Her question didn’t hold the bite her voice usually had; it was like she was genuinely curious, wanting to know why you would risk your entire perfect night for an interaction that wouldn’t last ten minutes.
“I don’t know, I just… did.”
Her hand trailed your shoulder, then your neck, and eventually your jawline. You lifted your chin a bit, trying to contain yourself, but she just inched her face toward yours.
“Tell me why.”
You took a deep breath before speaking again, a quiver betraying you the second it hit your voice.
“I don’t know, Ellie.”
She tilted her head at you like she was studying something pathetic, something predictable. That slow, cruel smirk curled back onto her face.
“Yeah. You do,” she murmured—then, without giving you a chance to argue—
“Come with me.”
It wasn’t a question. Ellie never asked you for anything. She issued orders—softly, calmly—because she already knew you’d obey. And the worst part? She was right.
Her fingers wrapped around your wrist, cold and sure, guiding you toward the hallway like she was leading a pet. Two guards blocked the entrance, but the moment they recognised her, they didn’t just step aside—they practically scrambled out of her way.
She didn’t even thank them.
She didn’t have to.
Ellie yanked you down the hallway and shoved open a private bathroom door. The lock clicked the second you crossed the threshold, and suddenly it was just you, her, and the sound of your pulse slamming in your ears.
You looked at her with suspicion—or maybe fear—you weren’t sure. She was.
Because deep down, you already knew exactly where this night was going. And she knew you weren’t going to stop it.
“How much did you miss me?” she asked, stepping into your space like it belonged to her. She pinned you to the wall, her grip on your waist bruising, claiming.
“I didn’t.”
Another lie. And she didn’t even have to call you out on it—she saw it all over you.
Ellie dragged her other hand up your body in a slow, taunting path, her knuckles brushing your breast just because she could. Her fingers slipped around your neck, not squeezing—just holding. Controlling. Reminding you who you were with.
Her face hovered inches from yours, so close you could feel her smirk on your skin.
And you didn’t turn away. You didn’t even try.
“The way you’re standing here,” she whispered, her thumb stroking your pulse like she owned it, “letting me touch you like this? Yeah… that’s your real answer.”
You inhaled shakily, trying to keep some shred of composure, but it was useless around her. Ellie had a hold on you no one else ever came close to—because she studied you, carved you apart piece by piece until she knew every switch to flip. What made you tick. What made you whimper. What dragged your voice into a broken scream with her name on it. And the worst part?
You could see it in her eyes—she fully intended to remind you exactly who you belonged to.
“Tell me what you want.” Her voice dropped to an almost-whisper, low enough to feel dangerous. Her grip on your waist tightened, just shy of painful—on purpose. It made you squirm, and she definitely noticed.
“I don’t know.”
Ellie let out a quiet laugh, one that held zero humour.
“You do. You always do. And I’ll make sure you remember.”
Then she kissed you — hard. Not soft. Not sorry. Not the kind of kiss two people share after years apart. Ellie didn’t do gentle. She kissed like she owned the air in your lungs, like if she pressed hard enough, she could pull your memories straight from your skull. A kiss that made the room tilt, made your fingers twitch toward her like they’d never forgotten how to reach.
And she knew it.
She always knew.
You kissed her back. Of course you did. You’d known — deep down — this was where every word tonight had been headed. Hell, you knew it the second you saw her across the club. She wasn’t just familiar — she was the part of you you’d pretended you didn’t need.
Her hand slid from your waist and disappeared under your dress, lips still fused to yours like she was trying to rewrite history through contact alone. Her fingers hooked around the thin strap of your thong — and when she tugged, it drew a whimper from your throat.
That’s when she pulled back, breath grazing your lips like a dare.
“Do you know what you want now, baby?”
You nodded — of course you did. You’d known before she ever opened her fucking mouth. But you weren’t going to give her the satisfaction just yet.
“Tell me.”
You bit your lip, head tilted, pulse pounding, her fingers pushing the soaked fabric aside.
“I want you to fuck me, Ellie.”
She smirked — slow, triumphant. That was what she wanted. Your surrender. Your submission.
And you gave it.
Two fingers plunged inside you without warning.
Your back arched like a live wire had snapped through you, hands flying to her hair, gripping tight like she was the last thread holding you to earth.
“Look at me,” she said — low and steady, soaked in control.
You lifted your eyes, breath ragged, body betraying every ounce of resistance you’d tried to hold onto. She didn’t just know how to touch you — she knew how to unravel you.
“Fuck, Els… please—don’t stop.”
She smirked wider, her pace quickening, fingers curling like she’d been waiting to ruin you all night.
“That’s my girl. Let me take care of you.”
Her fingers slowed suddenly, dragging deliberate tension through your hips, her eyes locked on yours like she had all the time in the world.
“I know you missed me,” she said, curling her fingers inside you again — deep and purposeful. Your back arched. Your breath hitched.
“Did you think of me while you were fucking other girls, hmm?”
She was taunting you — and god, she was good at it.
“Ellie…”
She shook her head, pace snapping faster again. She could feel it — you were close.
“You know how I make you feel. Say it.”
“It’s—fuck—so good, Els. So fucking—”
Her fingers hit that spot again, and a helpless whimper broke from your lips.
“—Good.”
“Yeah?” she whispered.
Then she pulled out — and you nearly cried from the loss. But you still looked at her like she was the only thing you’d ever wanted.
“Open your mouth for me, baby.”
You did. She slid her fingers between your lips, and you sucked them in without hesitation — licking your own wetness off her skin, tongue curling around the taste like it belonged to you.
Her eyes never left yours.
“That’s it. Good girl.”
She withdrew slowly, savouring it — and then she dropped to her knees like it meant nothing. Like this was routine. Like she owned you. Because she did.
Her hands slipped under your dress, pushing it up to bunch at your waist. Her face hovered inches from your cunt, breath hot and steady.
“Tell me you want me,” she murmured, voice low enough to vibrate straight through you.
“Please, Ellie,” you breathed. “I want you so bad.”
She smirked — slow and smug — before dragging her tongue in one deliberate stripe up your soaked, pulsing clit.
The contact alone nearly undid you.
Your hips jolted, thighs twitching, but she caught your reaction instantly. Her hands gripped your legs and swung them over her shoulders, locking you in. Now, she was the only thing holding you up — the only thing keeping you tethered.
She kissed your swollen clit again, softer this time, and looked up at you with that look — the one that always felt like a threat and a promise all at once.
“Ask nicely, baby.”
You bit your lip, pulse thundering. God, you hated how much you loved the way she made you beg.
“Please, Ellie,” you breathed. “Please — I want your mouth on me. Need it.”
That was all she needed.
Her lips curved with satisfaction, and she dove in — like you were a five-course meal she’d been starving for.
You swear you were seeing stars — heels digging into Ellie’s back, one hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping the counter like it was the only thing keeping you from floating away. Moans poured out of you like a waterfall; she was fucking ruining you.
Her mouth worked magic between your legs — tongue moving in swift, circular motions over your clit, thumb pressing at just the right spot. It was precise. Intentional. She knew your body like it belonged to her.
And right now, it did.
“Let go for me. Let me taste you properly, love.”
And like clockwork, you did — falling apart on her tongue, every muscle giving out as she slurped up your release like she’d been starving for it.
When she finally set your legs back on solid ground, they barely held you. Shaking. Weak. Like jelly and cement at the same time.
She gave you one last look from between your thighs, then dragged her thumb across her bottom lip — slow, deliberate — before rising to stand over you.
“You’re such a good girl for me.”
She kissed you — just like before. Deep. Certain. Possessive.
And as her lips stayed pressed to yours, she tugged your dress back down, fixing you without ever pulling away.
You pulled away this time, arms looping around her neck as you met her gaze.
“You gonna disappear on me again, then?”
Something in your voice hit her — and for a second, just a second, her eyes softened. That same flicker of vulnerability from when you were young flashed through her, raw and unguarded.
“Do you want me to?”
“No.”
“Then I won’t.”
☆~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☆
a/n: holy SHIT this chapter was so complicated to write, not only was this MORE than double the wc from last chapter, I have learned that me and writing smug do not mix. it's like oil and water. BUT I hope yall enjoyed ch2, ch3 will be coming soon!! [I have made a playlist for this series and I'm gonna link it up top of every one of the upcoming chapter and go back and link it in the first chapter AND this one!!]
BUT THAT YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR THE LIKE, REBLOGS, COMMENTS, AND FOLLOWS IT MEANS SO MUCH!!! ch2 should be out pretty soon, ive started it but im stuck in some places 💀
summary: your life had settled into something small, safe even-- until ellie's newest song cracks it wide open. every lyric is a ghost of you, of her, of what neither of you ever said out loud. you shouldnt care anymore, but you do, and that might be the worst part.
cw: strong language, ooc ellie, modern au, use of y/n, rockstar!ellie
word count: 1004
☆~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☆
laughs are memories. if you think hard enough about it. they cling to the people you shared them with. its fucking terrifying to realise that one summer youre playing dolls in your bedroom with your best friend... and then suddenly youre here. working 40+ hours a week. no friends. a boss whos basically a bull, only opening her mouth to tell you what youre doing wrong. customers chucking coffee at you. family cut off. and her... the worst part... shes not in your life anymore. after everything that happened, why would she be?
you dusted off the display glasses for the tenth time that day, desperate to push time forward, but time refused to budge. eventually, though, your shift ended. you pulled off your faux brown leather apron and hung it on the hook by your locker, grabbed your bag, and practically scurried out of the coffee shop like a mouse bolting from a broom.
you stepped outside, inhaled the "fresh" city air -- and instantly regretted it -- then headed down the street toward home. your phone came out automatically, thumb scrolling through random posts... until one stopped you cold.
a rockstar girl. familiar face. sharp jaw. tattoos. that damned smirk.
holy shit.
ellie fucking williams.
you clicked on the post instinctively, reading through the comments, frozen on the sidewalk.
"holy. fucking. shit."
who wouldve guessed? your ex best friend turned rockstar. discovery of the goddamn century.
ellie releasing another banger is definitely what i had on my bucket list.
another:
i swear ellie writes these songs about someone... theres just too much truth for it NOT to be about a real person.
and then--
ellie pls tell us who this is aboutttt we're desperate!!!
you swiped through the collage she posted: her in the studio, her strumming her guitar like it was the last thing tethering her to the world.. and then it hit you.
that was your guitar.
the one you gave her for her birthday.
the last time you saw her
the last time you spoke.
the last everything.
you shut off your phone with something close to rage and kept walking, breath uneven. the thoughts in your head didnt slow -- not even by the time you reached your apartment building.
you step inside your apartment and shut the door with a heavy thud, kicking off your shoes in a rush before collapsing onto the couch. your phone is in your hand again before you even realise it--open, glowing, begging you to keep stalking her page.
and then you see it.
"its never to late to come back, butterfly."
butterfly.
the nickname she whispered when you cried about your parents.
butterfly.
the name she only ever use when your life was falling apart--when she wanted you to believe she could piece you back together.
your stomach twists. where did she get the fucking nerve?
☆~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☆
shared giggles filled the room; you never stopped laughing when you were with her.
"y/n, promise we'll never leave each other?"
ellie's voice cut through your laughter, soft but serious. you turned your head on the carpet to look at her. she was lying beside you, eyes fixed on the ceiling like it held answers.
"i promise," you said. "we'll always have each other."
you rolled onto your side and reached for her hand, hooking your pinky with hers.
ellie finally looked over at you, something fragile shining in her aventurine eyes. her lips parted--as if she was about to confess something--then closed again. whatever she almost said swallowed back into silence.
your pinkies stayed linked for a beat before she let her fingers drift down, folding over yours in full, warm grip--like she was afraid to let go first.
"do you ever wonder what we'll be like when we're all grown up?" her voice cuts through the quiet--fragile, almost scared.
"yeah... but isnt that the point of childhood? to wonder how we're gonna turn out?"
she looked back up at the ceiling and gave your hand a soft squeeze. "i guess so... what do you think we'll both be like?"
a small smile tugged at your lips as you mirrored her stare. "famous. we'll both be famous. we'll walk red carpets hand in hand and live in a luxurious penthouse with two cats--one of them has thumbs."
she let out a breathy laugh. "thumbs?"
"yes! thumbs. his name will be thumpy."
"and the other cat?"
"stumpy." you fired back instantly, like youd been waiting your whole life for her to ask.
she turned to look at you, her eyes were filled with something different now--something you couldnt quite name. it wasnt fear, or sadness, or even that soft curiosity she usually saved just for you. it was something deeper, something that made your chest feel too tight for a moment.
"i cant wait."
☆~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☆
the song blares through the speaker in your living room, a strange kind of fresh air that you didnt ask for. that voice--her voice--fills the space like it always used to fill your head at night, singing you to sleep when your eyes were too heavy to stay open. the guitar, too. the same one that she wrote that stupid little medley on just fot you. every note feels like a memory trying to claw its way back into your chest
"you haunt the halls of every song i write."
you close your eyes, letting the line loop as the song replays again and again. and again. each repeat makes something click sharper, clearer, crueler.
she ruined "us."
she ruined everything you couldve had.
then, a voicemail, at the end of the song, her voice, that you loved, then learned to hate-
"if you listen to this, youll know i never learned to forget you. youll always be the one in my dreams, the one invading my thoughts, the one fluttering around my life like a butterfly. i love you, forever and always, this isnt a goodbye, merely a see you later."
☆~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☆
a/n: OMG this took practically all day to write, but im so glad i did!! i changed up the way i wanted this fic to go numerous times before settling for a modern au. this is also my first time writing a fic, so please, give me your opinions!!!! i will be updating frequently on my page about the progress of ch2. if you want to be added to the taglist, please lmk!!! liking and reblogging help me alot, thank ya, mwah xx
synopsis: days feel like years during the time inbetween your weekly meetings with ellie—temporary, transactional evenings. but at some point, between the afternoons spent under her warmth in the backseat of her worn out truck, you’d fallen for her. you pray you can keep it in.
tags: smut!!, car sex, mean!ellie, angst, fingering, fwb!ellie, semi-public sex, ellie is a tease, sweet/pining reader, small town, use of ‘slut’ and ‘good girl’, toxiccc relationship, doomed yuri if you will, dacryphilia a little, avoidant ellie (so fun)
the early night chill bites at your skin as you round the corner of the secluded store, stopping when you spot what you’re looking for.
the familiar old pickup truck is the only thing parked in the dark lot, ellie’s face visible from the side window.
you approach it the way you always do; lips in a purposeful pout, arms crossed around your chest, pushing up discreetly—waiting for ellie to notice.
this time she’s smoking when you arrive, staring straight ahead, one inked forearm resting comfortably atop the wheel, the other leaning out the half-open window, blunt pinched between deft fingers.
gravel crunches beneath your feet as you step closer, the sound causing her to look.
her eyes lock on yours, and suddenly the cold doesn’t bother you at all.
she only seems the slightest bit surprised, eyes widening just a bit, barely a reaction.
you hate it. then you don’t.
because it’s only a few seconds later you catch her eyes drifting down to the neckline of your blouse, teasingly low on purpose.
everytime.
her gaze lingers when she finally speaks, lips lightly pursed as she blows out smoke. “uh, hey.”
“hi.” you offer back, walking up to the window.
you lean forward, resting your forearms on the ledge, head tilting to the blunt. “care to share?”
your request earns you a chuckle, soft and low, the kind that sounded just the slightest bit patronizing. you loved it all the same.
ellie shakes her head. “nuh-uh, not for you.”
its always like this—a song and a dance, something to start with before she gave you what she believed you were really here for.
she turns to you face you, green eyes peering down at you from the driver’s seat, deep and striking, bigger and brighter than anything in this rotting wasteland of a town.
“please?” you blink up at ellie, curled lashes batting over purposefully large doe eyes.
you bite your lip. “i just wanna know what it tastes like.”
you watch as ellie’s eyes cast down once more, tongue pressing into her cheek the way she always did when nervous.
her gaze flickers back up before she presses the blunt to her lips, taking one last puff.
with a nod, she encourages you forward.
“c’mere.”
you lean in closer through the window, letting her strong hands cup the sides of your face, pulling you in.
her lips meet yours—warm, soft, slightly chapped, the faint taste of weed hitting your tongue as hers slips in, all too experienced, drawing out a soft gasp from you when she pulls away.
a smirk begins to form on her face as she watches you, gaze just the slightest bit more intent than it had been a week ago. “too bitter?”
you shake your head slowly, lips pursing. “i think i want more.”
the look you fix her with is anything but innocent—lower lip bitten, eyes pleading—all but begging her to fuck you.
it comes as no surprise when she relents, eyes all over you, smirk gone, all but replaced with something leagues more hungry.
“ellie?” you only tilt your head the slightest bit before she’s getting up from her seat.
“get in the back.”
worn leather presses into your back as ellie lays you down on the seats, one knee slotted between your legs, as she hovers above you, her lips glued to your skin.
“fuck, you’re-s’good f’me.” she mumbles between kisses, drawling, wet lips painting your neck.
they trail down quickly—from your jaw to your collarbone to right above your chest—until she’s tugging down the neckline of your blouse, hands squeezing eagerly at the supple flesh of your tits, newly exposed.
you can’t help the whimper that escapes you when her lips latch onto your nipple, already stiff from anticipation. “mmh-ellie-!”
her tongue dances around the sensitive bud, the sensation only encouraging the growing heat between your legs, leaving you writhing beneath her.
you arch into her mouth, hips lifting up on their own accord, chasing friction.
the moans that leave your mouth, so undeniably wanton, return that smug smirk back onto ellie’s face, as she curses beneath her breath.
“goddamn.”
you only grip onto her harder.
“it’s only been a week, baby.” she drawls into your ear, low and teasing, voice laced with faux-concern. “miss me that much? huh?”
the desperate look on your face only spurs her on. “poor girl.”
“ellie, please-”
she kisses you again, taking the words into her mouth. you cant help relishing in the contact.
you almost don’t notice her hand snaking up your skirt, past your tensing things, straight to your underwear, already embarrassingly soaked.
at first you think she’s relented, that, today, she’s decided to be generous. but then she pulls away, breath hot as her face hovers inches from yours. she moves her finger, not a lot, just enough to leave you begging for more.
her fingers move in small circles, the pads of them just barely grazing your clit, the sensation too much yet nowhere near enough.
“you feel that?” she whispers against your ear.
tears spring to your eyes at her touch, loving and loathing the gentleness of it all at once.
“ellie, please.” you breathe out, voice shaky.
she continues her slow circles, pressing just a little harder. “tell me how much you want it.”
your breath catches, a strangled gasp.
“mmh-!”
“words, baby.”
“hah-! a-a-lot,” you manage between breaths, soft and heavy. “i-i want you inside.”
your eyes flutter open, screwing up to meet ellie’s, unashamedly begging, losing themselves in hers, terrifyingly deep.
the words leave your lips softly, quiet yet clear, the purpose in them undeniable.
“i want you.”
ellie stills. you catch the way her jaw locks.
for a second something shifts, a flicker of warmth, but it disappears as quick as it comes.
her fingers press flush against you before you have another second to think, rousing another breathy moan from your throat. “jesus, you’re such a slut.”
her hand snakes lower after giving your clit the contact it’s been craving, determinedly down to the wet spot on your underwear.
she presses a kiss to your temple, so soft you know she doesn’t mean it. “so wet already.”
calloused fingers glide on your entrance, gaping, clenching on air. “ellie, i want-“
“oh, i know what you want.” a hand comes up the side of your face, thumb brushing the swollen curve of your lip. “i know.”
you swear you almost come right then and there when her fingers finally plunge in, the emptiness within you finally filled.
“god-! ellie-!” you moan into the air, tears of relief falling down rosy cheeks.
she fucks you slow and steady, forearm flexing as long fingers draw in and out, feeling every stretch you make to accommodate her, pulling her in.
her head hangs just above the exposed skin of your chest, lips dragging against your sternum as she groans. “fuck-taking it so good f’me.”
she presses another kiss into the valley of your chest. “you always do.”
you throw your head back, letting the pleasure consume you.
of course you did. you’d do anything.
all she had to do was ask.
her pace remains steady as she kisses back up your neck, lips quickly finding their place on yours. “you’re such a pretty crier, you know that?”
a gentle finger swipes a tear from your cheek. “all this for me.”
pleasure builds steadily, quicker than it should, quicker than it would have if it had been someone else fucking you.
but you had ellie, and, even if she’d never really be yours, you’d take whatever piece of herself she was willing to give, even if it was just this.
this was enough.
when it came to ellie, it was always enough.
“i know you’re close.” she whispers to you, movements never halting. “you gonna cum for me?”
you manage a nod amidst the incoherent moans tumbling out of you.
“such a good girl.”
her pace is relentless, swift strokes hitting deep, setting stars into your vision.
“el-ellie-“
you’re too caught up to notice the confession slip out of you as you reach your high, the words soft and sacred as they leave your lips.
“i love you.”
then the pleasure consumes you, then the tears fall, thankful and content, and you’re too fucked out to notice—notice how ellie’s always steady hand stutter at your words, how they snap her out of the spell.
she pulls out faster than she usually does, not caring to let the aftershock linger.
you only realize something is off when she settles into the drivers seat to drive you home like she always does. it’s never this quiet.
you watch her from the passenger’s side; jaw locked, eyes trained on the road, knuckles white on the wheel.
her eyes flicker over to you only once, and the look in them scares you. they’re never that distant.
“here you are.” she says when you reach your driveway, too casual.
she watches quietly as you climb out of the warmth of the car, night air harsh on your skin when you step out. “see you next week?”
you wish you don’t notice the way her eyes flicker away, the way her grip tightens on the wheel, already telling you everything you need to know.
“uh, yeah.” her voice leaves you feeling colder than the wind does.
the tears that well in your eyes are a secret only you know. “ok.” you say softly.
ellie grants you one last look, eyes dark. you swear you see your world in them.
you take them in, her in, memorizing, engraving the sight into your mind, pressing it into the back of your eyelids.
because you knew, once you let her drive away, you’d never see her again.
she looks away to soon, and you watch silently as she disappears into the night, taking with her the only thing that made you feel like living.
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