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COMEDY, TRAGEDY, PARODY

an argument that morphs into a toxic, petty rivalry. "same text, i could pick each and every word out this message, and be upset and agressive"

elliot (euphoria x fem (gf) reader [textfic/fic hybrid??]

a/n - thanks to whoever requested this! it was sm fun to make i went back to my elliot fic roots w jules as the opp again and ts lwk jokes!!! disclaimer ive never made a text fic but ima call it a hybrid cuz its only like 30% text.... idk pls enjoy and if u submitted a req (which i LOVE thank you!!) i will answer i promise one fic at a time ladies theres only one of me 💋 i also write for dom if yall want any of those again. ENJOYAYAAYYAY

the air in elliot’s room was thick with weed smoke, cheap incense and candles, and faintly your perfume. it was heavy and dizzy most of the time, and kept the rest of the world at bay, leaving you two in your own little world. tonight though, the atmosphere felt sharp and needle-like.

you and elliot had been on a temporary, agonizing break for a week, and it was all because of what had happened at some party. you had VERY explicitly asked him before you got there to not participate in those messy truth-or-dare games that always happen, or at the very least, have the balls to deny a dare.

the reason you had warned him was because you knew how jules looked at him, and the lines people end up crossing when they were drunk or high enough. but low and behold, being the dick he is, he sat in the circle, looked right at jules, and kissed her when the dare came around, because of course jules made him a dare that revolved around her.

not just that, but completely disregarding the single boundary you begged him to keep.

now, you were standing by his bed, your arms crossed and looking at him with a cross stare. elliot saw your look of fury, the one you had plastered on your face for the past hour as he had tried (and failed) to explain himself without victim blaming. you love him, but he can be so fucking annoying.

his big, brown eyes were looking up at you, desperately, needingly, clawing at your affection. but you knew he was just distracting. he gets up from his seat on the bed, and steps into your space. his movements were rushed and hurried, as he frantically slid his tanned fingers under your tank top and onto your warm skin.

his hands tugged into your waist, gripping you close as he buries his face in your neck, pressing hot heavy kisses against the side of your neck. “y/n baby please,” he murmured in a raspy whisper, his lips muffled against your throat. “jus’ stop. stop bein’ mad at me. i’ve been going crazy this entire week because i love you. i missed you so fucking much my baby.”

“don’t.” you scoff, deadpanning his desperate ass. you don’t lean into him, which stings because it is very out of character for you.

“baby, look at me.” he begged, his whispers echo against your throat as his hands trail up your spine to pull you flush against his torso, clawing at you for a reaction. “just let me hold you.”

you shove him back, your palms pressing into his chest as you attempt to break his grip. he stumbles back a step, his eyes wide with a bit of hurt, but also frustration and his previous defensiveness.

“i said don’t touch me.” you snap. “you can’t just whine your way out of this. we both know how she looks at you, and i explicitly told you not to do dares like that, but you did it anyway. and you know i never ask you to do anything like that, and it was the one and only time i did. don’t sit there and act like im overreacting and everything is fine when you let her kiss you and touch you.”

“i’m not doing this with you tonight.” elliot said, his neediness instantly morphing into defensive anger one he realize he couldn’t just charm his way back in. he sat back down on the edge of his unmade bed, when his voice drops. “you’re spiraling again. you’re makin’ shit up just ‘cause you want something to scream at me about.” he says, his eyes on the floor. he can’t even look at you.

“making shit up?” your voice raises. “it was a game to you, but you knew exactly what you were doing! you wanted her attention or her to, like, touch you! don’t fucking lie to me elliot!”

“i’m not lying!” elliot yells back, standing right back up to face you. “it was a fucking dare y/n! you’re looking for reasons to push me away because you’re insecure, and i’m sick of being crucified for it!”

“crucified? you did the one thing you agreed not to do, and if it was me and another guy you’d be just as pissed.” you say back, holding back hot angry tears. “you’re literally just a liar who can’t keep it in his pants!”

“then leave.” he spits right back. “if i’m so fucking terrible, get out.” he says, with pure dismissiveness, and that did something. he wasn’t hearing you, so you would make him.

your eyes scanned his room, landing on his guitar. it was one of the only things he gave a fuck about. before your brain could register anything, you grabbed it by the neck and bashed it against the wall.

the sound of the wood splitting against the wall was deafening. the thin strings snapped with a harsh twang. after that, there was a dead silence over the room.

elliot takes a step closer. “you think you can just destroy my shit because you can’t handle yourself? is this what you wanted? a fight?” he says slowly, his hands clenching and unclenching as to not do something he’ll regret. your eyes were wide, and you felt bad but as soon as you said that it all vanished.

“get the fuck out of my house.”

THE NEXT DAY.

the next day was a silent blackout between you and elliot, but the silence felt oddly louder than your screaming match. you had spent hours analyzing his past messages, alternating between wanting to shoot him and a toxic craving to crawl right back into his bed.

elliot was going through a similar predicament. he was insanely pissed over the guitar, but he knew what he did was wrong, he was just too proud to admit it. there was nothing more that he wanted then to drive over to your house and spend the night ‘apologizing’, but unfortunately, you two were too far gone at this point.

THE NEXT NIGHT AFTER.

petty retaliation commenced over your phones on the second night. maddy had invited you to one of her friend from another school’s parties, and of course you attended. you always dressed and looked good at these, so it was no surprise when a guy plopped himself down next to you to strike up a conversation.

naturally, he swung his arm around you and since you were tipsy and petty, you sent elliot a photo of his arm around you, and you leaning into his touch. he responded not long after and you grinned as you texted him back (a/n - sry gng woulda put pics in the texts but i couldn't find what i was looking for)

a few hours later, you had left the party feeling triumphant in getting tipsy and pissing off elliot. what you didn’t expect however, was him to now send you a picture. it was taken from sitting on the corner of his bed, facing down, and there were a pair of shoes. shoes you recognized almost instantly. jules’ fuckass white doc martins.

that move brought your blood to a bubbling boil. you type back immediately, making sure he knew that you knew that he was just putting on a pathetic show, because he couldn’t actually handle having anyone else touch him sober and alone. let alone jules.

you knew it was bullshit. there was no way jules was actually in his bed. elliot was far too obsessed with you for that, but the fact that he went out of his way to arrange her shoes to try and drive you crazy was hilarious. and you loved it.

THE NEXT MORNING.

it was a new day, but you kept the gears turning all night. you had picked up a cardboard box from staples, and spent an hour and a half stringing together all of elliot’s belonging that he left in your room or lent you. every article of clothing, his vinyl records he lets you borrow, and other random trinkets, all piled neatly into the box, because at the end of the day, he’s still your baby.

you did your makeup and hair for another hour, and put on an outfit you knew he liked you in, because this would definitely get a reaction from this. once that was done, you walked the cardboard box to the fire pit in your backyard, struck two matches, and sent him a picture of the flame hovering just centimetres away from his stuff.

the day stretched into the evening, and after dozens of missed calls from elliot, you finally made the drive to his place. you didn’t text. just showed up.

when elliot pulled the door open, he looked tired and wrecked. his hair was a mess, brown roots and blonde tips meshing into each other in a curly whirlwind, dark faded circles adorned his under eyes, and his place smelled of weed, but that was per usual. he looked down at you, the anger from a few nights ago had now mellowed out into something heavy and exhausting, with a lot of tension.

“you here to set my house on fire now too?” he muttered, leaning against the doorframe. there was no real bite in his words, as his eyes dropped right down to your mouth, and a hungry look passes through his eyes.

“um, no but this should cover a new guitar,” you say civilly and quietly, handing him an envelope. “or at least that’s what my dad said. it’s his money. he got mad at me for it, if that like, makes you feel any better.” you finish with a small smile, as his lips tug upward to scoff playfully.

”and these. which i ended up not burning.” you add, handing him the staples box awkwardly.

elliot stared at the box and envelope in his hands, then looked at your face, a slow, complex emotion crossing his face. without saying another word, he stepped aside to let you in.

the two of you made your way to his room, and he closes the door gently. “you were out of your mind for that, not gonna lie.” he whispers, referring to either you hooking up with a stranger or burning his shit to a crisp.

“you make me that way.” you quickly countered, stepping closer and placing a finger on his chest to keep some distance. “you cut me out when i told you how i felt, elli. you cross the lines i ask you not to cross, and then you act like i’m the one who’s crazy.”

“‘m not cuttin’ you out baby.” he mumbled, his voice dropping slightly as he gripped your waist. “i’m right here. i fucked up with jules, alright? it was stupid and weird and i hated it. i swear to god i didn’t feel a fucking thing, but i still shouldn’t have. but we’re not over. no more break.”

you shrug as he pulls you closer, “easy, stop giving me a reason to leave.”

his second apology came quick after, in physical form this time. it was a messy collision of teeth and pressure, both a punishment and a desperate surrender to you all at once, officially dragging you both back to each other. he backed you up against the wall, his fingers tangling into your hair as he kissed you.

elliot’s hands slid down from your hair, unzipping your hoodie and yanking it off your shoulders and reaching up into your tank to hold your bare, warm waist. as he held you, he lifted you slightly so you had to wrap your legs around his hips. he groaned against your mouth as he circled his hips against you.

he didn’t stop to take you to bed, either. the frantic, toxic energy from the last couple days was boiling over, and neither of you had patience anymore. he let you fall to the bed, crawling on top of you, and you grinned against his lips, letting him manhandle you.

after a heated half hour, elliot slid off of you, his hands as shaky as your legs now felt. without ever breaking eye contact, he walked over to the other side of the unmade bed and got in next to you, feeling your bare skin against his as he held you.

“we are not good together when we fight.” he jokes. “too toxic.”

“right” you laugh, rolling your eyes as he wraps his arms around you and peppers your face with sweet kisses.

“you get scary when we argue, but some of those texts made me hard.” elliot laughs out, confessing.

you shrug slyly. “good. must’ve sucked not having me there to help you because you fucked up.”

“it was,” he agrees, as you bury his face in your neck. “i’ll never fuck up again.”

a/n - and i know thats right elliot never fuck up!!!!!!

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