#notlinearr

[notlinearr]

Pheromone Perfume ₊⊹ Gf!Ellie

When you caved into the pheromone perfume fad, you did not expect it to work. Ellie proved otherwise.

[ not proofread - sorry if this is cheeks guys ]

Warnings┈┈> smut, mdni

wc: 3.65k

Ellie felt like she was going insane. 

Albeit the lights in the restaurant were dimmed, they felt heavy, her clothes sat the wrong way, even after adjusting them for the millionth time, and you.

You smelled amazing. It hit her senses like a brick wall the moment you met her at the door, something under your usual scent. You only smiled at her and sauntered to the table where your friends waited.

She didn’t know what it was, but tonight you were magnetic. Always, of course. But tonight…she couldn’t rip herself from you if she tried. Her hand stayed connected to any piece of you she could place. Your thigh, right below your dress hem, the small of your back, the nape of your neck when she draped her arm around the back of your chair. 

You seemed oblivious. Throwing your head back at a joke Jesse told, or gasping at a story Dina shared as the dinner went on. 

Little did she know, you knew. That fad of the infamous pheromone perfume? You finally caved and bought it. And you declared it the best impulse buy the moment you saw your girlfriend's pupils dilate when you gave her a greeting kiss at the front of the restaurant.

And oh god, it was fun to watch her squirm. 

Ellie started her sentences steadily, only to choke them out halfway through whenever your fingers brushed the back of her neck. You could feel her heat, notice the shift in her legs, pressing her thighs together each time you reached across her or tossed in a soft “love” or “baby.”

And by the time the table settled in after everyone’s main courses, the chatter hummed. Abby laughed with Nora, Dina was busy begging Jesse for another cat, and Ellie…

Ellie was nursing a drink in her hands—tight, like it would offer some semblance of comfort while she nodded along with what you were talking about. Something along the lines of apartment decor, but she couldn’t make herself listen. She couldn’t help but trail down the slope of your neck, down to your chest like a pervert. She imagined holding them, groping them, putting them in her mouth and suckling on them to get sounds from your lungs and leaving dark marks along the fat of them while you begged for more. She didn’t need you to talk about room decor; she needed you to moan her name while she fought for air between your legs.

“Ellie?” Her name on your lips snapped her out of her horny daze, and her gaze finally met yours. 

“Yu—uh, yeah?” 

“What’s wrong?” Your brow had a knit to it, but she caught the small quirk in your lips. Those damn lips that needed to latch onto hers as soon as humanly possible—otherwise, she was sure she would implode.

“I think we should go home.” She announced, her voice came out rougher than expected, quieter. And when your soft smile deepened, she knew that you knew what you were doing to her. 

“We haven’t ordered desserts…or paid yet, love.” Love. It rolled off that beautiful tongue of yours like it was her name.

“I don’t care.” She whispered. Her eyes darted across the table to her friends, who were caught up in their own conversations and stories. “They won’t care—Jesse…Jesse can pay, and I’ll pay him back.” 

You almost pushed for a little more teasing, but her eyes flicked across your face before she let out a low “Please.”

That was all it took. You nodded, and Ellie shot up, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. Everyone turned. Dina groaned, teasing about the early exit, but Ellie barely heard her.

“Sorry, Dina,” You simply chuckled, giving her a peck on the cheek and a tight hug as she pouted in her chair. Ellie murmured something to Jesse, and he barked a laugh, clapping hands with her like they just won something. Abby and Nora said their goodbyes as well. Nora gave a small wave, and Abby returned a cordial side hug.

Ellie couldn’t keep her damn hands off you—even in the car. One hand on the wheel and the other squeezing your thigh, hitching higher before you swatted her hand away just before she reached your panties. All she could do was let out a strangled chuckle, white-knuckling the wheel like it would take the heat. 

“So, what’s the jig?” she asked, shooting you a quick look, that crooked smirk tugging at her mouth.

“What jig?”

“Babe, you’re glowing. And yeah, you always glow, but this is different. And you smell—” she exhaled through her nose, almost frustrated “—you smell fucking amazing. Stop playing with me and just tell me what you did.”

She tried for serious, but her voice cracked at the edges, octave a little too high, words shaky. You knew she was unraveling.

“I didn’t do anything.” You lied, settling back into your seat with a faint smile. Maybe you’d keep this to yourself. Drive her crazy whenever you want.

That was it. Ellie practically sped home, going twenty over the speed limit because she didn’t want to pull over and eat you out then and there—mainly out of selfishness due to the possibility of people driving by and seeing you. Only she got to do that. 

When she parked the car outside of your shared apartment, she slammed the door shut, opened yours, and did not wait to bolt to the front door and fumble with her keys. The girl took ages, and if you looked close enough, you could see the slight shake in her hand, and hear the small “fuck me” under her breath each time the key slid past the lock in a futile attempt.

And the second that damn door swung open, Ellie did not hesitate to pull you inside by the arm, nearly toppling over herself in the process. 

She pulled you into a hard kiss, all teeth and tongue and a fistful of your hair. It was sloppy, eager. She needed a quick fix before pulling back with a heave. 

“Let’s go.” She grunted, sweeping you off your feet and carrying you bridal style to the bedroom. You couldn’t help but giggle at her eagerness, even while she weaved around the sofa and slid by objects in the living room, she still gave you a quick once-over to see if you were okay. 

And then this girl hauled you onto the bed, the duvet let out a soft exhale when your back collided with it. 

“Up,” Her hands snaked behind your back, asking for a small arch so she could reach for the zipper of your dress. When you obeyed, you watched her mouth twitch up like she won. The zipper hummed as it traced down to your lower back, and it was completely off within seconds, thanks to a very eager Ellie. 

“Fuuuck, baby.” She groaned into the crook of your neck, her nose nudging the divot of your shoulder as she inhaled your unusually addictive perfume. Her hands pawed at your hips, squeezing the skin around them like she could knead you into herself. 

Her clothes weren’t even off yet, but she couldn’t care less, she could only care about you. Your clothes, your chest, your skin, those damn legs, and the gorgeous thighs that lived with them. The ones she so desperately needed to be in between right then and there. 

But your fingertips grazing her white dress shirt, riding it up to her shoulders, made her shiver. She threw it off with no problem, within a blink—wait, no. It was not, in fact, within a blink. Her chin had gotten caught in the neckline; she hadn’t even bothered trying to undo her buttons, and she was caught like a bug in a web, and you were giggling beneath her.

“Babe.” She grunted, arms up and wriggling like a caterpillar. Her lower torso was exposed, distractingly gorgeous with delicious abs and an even yummier pair of tits in a red wine-colored bra. 

She let out a whine mixed with another frustrated grunt. She said your name like it was an order—tried to, at least. It came out high-pitched and needy instead. 

“Okay, okay,” You chuckled, scooting out from underneath her to sit up. Your hands hovered near the buttons, and she let out a puff of relief. Your hands reached her torso, running them against her abdomen. 

The girl jolted, murmuring a small “cold” before you palmed the base of her tits, fingertips reaching the top of her mounds; the skin peeking out at the top of her bra. 

She was radiating warmth, and when you finally helped her out of her shirt, so was her face.

Before you could tease her about it, she latched back onto your neck, easing you down once more onto your back. She wanted to move lower, pull your own bra off with a quick snap, and latch onto your tits like an animal, but she couldn’t break away from your scent. Your regular perfume had an unusual pull. Too much so that her veins felt hot, the nape of her neck sweaty, and her cunt absolutely pulsating. For Ellie, being turned on by you was typical, but this? This was primal, like a bitch in heat.

She didn’t even realize your hands had popped her red push-up undone until her nipples stiffened against the cold of the room, and your palm had begun to warm them up with slow squeezes. A low groan left her and fell into your neck, pulling away and seeing the dark purple that bloomed on your jugular. How long had she been there?

“Ellie—” Your voice cracked, and she snapped from her daze. You were grinding your lace panties—they were leaving little to the imagination—against her knee, which had found purchase between your thighs, applying a steady pressure to your center. The eager jut of your hips was sinful. If Ellie’s boxers weren't soaked before, they sure were at this point. 

Her eyes snapped back to yours, pupils matching hers: dilated beyond recognition. Her hands pushed back below your shoulder blades to unhook your bra. 

“Please…” She started, the hook snapping open with a small tick. “Sit on my face, baby,” 

The lace was thrown aside carelessly, to be found later. And finally, Ellie did the thing she had been waiting to do: latch onto your tits, palming the right one with whatever hand(s) she could as her mouth sucked the left. The sigh you let out was heavenly, an absolute blessing for her ears. She got to have your tits in her mouth, while she could hear your soft sighs of pleasure. The ones that came because of her.

“Please, baby…” she cooed, saliva dribbling down her chin, sinfully illustrating your boobs with a line of it. Her epidote-colored eyes burned into your own through the hoods of her lids. Pure desire. Want. Ellie wanted nothing more than to feel you on her mouth, suffocating between your thighs in ecstasy as she pulled moans and gasps from that pretty mouth of yours. She wanted you to sit on top of her, let you pull her hair. Use her mouth to get yourself off.

Within the split second that you nodded, Ellie was already on her back, swiping her tongue out to wet her cupid's bow.

“Your pants aren’t off.” You breathed, sitting up on your knees and pulling your hair to the side. Your abdomen stretched below your rib cage, hips moving as you inched closer to Ellie. Who was a dumbfucked mess—

“Oh—“ Her head flicked down to her jeans, hanging low on her hips, her boxers peeking out from the top line. “Sorry.” She cursed, sitting up to slide them off in haste. They plopped down onto the floor beside the bed, and she was already returned on her back, quickly forgotten, signaling with her hands for you to come closer like an air traffic controller. 

You snickered, and she furrowed a brow. 

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing.” You lied. Eager Ellie was one of the many cute variations of your girlfriend. When was she not eager? When did she not apologize for still having her pants on?

When you inched over her, swinging a leg to the other side of her head, the auburnette let out a relieved sigh, warm breath tufting against your thighs. Her hands came up, resting one on your left, and the other on the curve of your ass.

And when you finally sat on her face, eased down onto those pretty lips of hers, Ellie hummed approvingly. Her tongue finally got the taste she was craving for the last hour of torture. But fuck, was it worth it. You tasted like heaven on a plate (her face). 

The tip of her nose nudged your clit as her tongue focused on your entrance, tantalizingly, tasting the sweet and salty slick that was meant for her. When your whines met her ears as she swiped her tongue through each fold lazily, she practically came right there. 

Her tongue was just missing your clit by a mere centimeter, purposefully. Because, despite her love for getting you off, she lived for the whines and pleas that came with your anticipation.

The sound of your small, sharp breaths mixed with hers—the girl under you was muffled, wet, sloppy sounds came from her mouth as she devoured you like dessert. 

“Fuck—Ellie…” and just as she anticipated, one of your hands tangled into her auburn hair, pulling her head up closer—although she was already smushed—to your pussy. Her name, particularly falling in a breath from your lips, exemplified the throb in her cunt, her boxers becoming more of a wet mess than they had been at the dinner table.

And she had a clear line of sight from underneath you, brow knit, back arched, grinding on her mouth like she was a toy, desperate to find the tip of her nose and rub your clit against it. Your eyes snapped to each other like magnets, and her brows tilted with another level of neediness when you let out another soft groan in the back of your throat.

Her hips canted into nothing, yet searching for any form of friction, the bed sheets or her boxers could give her. She couldn’t help but finally latch onto your clit, and when she began, she couldn’t stop. The soft, “pleasepleaseplease” coming from you made her drive her lips even closer, pressing her hot, open mouth to your clit, switching from hard-stroked licks to eye-rolling suctioning with her tongue. The pool that grew low in your stomach was beginning to harden, and she could tell you were on that verge of coming once the other hand shot out from behind you and steadied yourself beside her head, your fingers in the other gripped a little harder in her hair as you leaned over her cranium. Your mouth gaped into a small sliver, and your chin buried into your chest, eyes lidded in arousal and pure focus. Ellie couldn’t help but groan at the sight, the sound vibrating onto your clit, adding to it all.

“C’mon, baby,” She murmured through laps. The sound of her mouth against your slick was pornographic, sopping laps, and the sound of her muffled, labored breath echoed in the room with the mix of your own. Her hands had made soft indents into your skin, both now gripping onto your thighs like an anchor. “Just a little more.” 

Her eyes rolled back at the sight of your blissed-out expression, one hand snapping up to your right boob in a fumble, squeezing and twisting at the sudden urge to touch more of you. In response to your high-pitched whine, Ellie sucked harder, and it finally sent you over. A deep, guttural groan came from under you as you came on her face, orgasm rippling through you in a heavy wave as your girlfriend refused to ease up. 

She remained under you, licking every last bit of your release up until your hands eased from her hair, until they found her forearms, pushing her away with a small, breathy “okay, okay.”

But she refused. Instead, Ellie’s laps became stiffer, inconsistent. Your girlfriend had such a wound-tight expression, eyes squeezed shut, brow knit together, breathing labored, that it suddenly dawned on you what she was doing, and your head swiveled behind you, landing on her hips.

She was on the verge of coming herself, grinding against her boxers, which were pulled taught for any kind of friction she could muster. You swung your leg back over—with a bit of a fight, and a long, desperate whine from Ellie—and chuckled at the squirming girl. 

Her eyes shot open, breath tight, and expression so incredibly needy once you crouched between her knees. 

“Hand me the pillow,” you gestured behind her, and Ellie did not hesitate to reach. She practically threw the cushion your way, lifting her hips as you placed it under her for leverage. She couldn’t restrain the whimper that came from deep in her chest when you pushed her thighs apart, letting out a tsk once seeing the absolute mess she made in her cotton underwear.

“So wet, baby.” You murmured, and despite just coming down from your high, you core began to throb again at the sight. Even with a soft tap of your fingerpad, her cunt made a wet noise through her boxers. 

“Babe.” She grunted, head falling back in frustration. And the small laugh that hit her ears did not help her case.

Your fingers pulled away at the elastic, and eventually, they fell from her hips. You tossed them to the floor without another thought and did not hesitate to dive right in. Without warning, your mouth met her slick, drawing one thick line from her hole to her clit, taking in the absurd amount of arousal she had patiently collected in her boxers. Ellie let out a shocked, high-pitched moan at how fast-paced it had happened, and you had to forcefully keep her legs open. The moment of bliss that was your tongue on her clit was just that, a moment. Before she could enjoy it, you returned to her hole. Mouth sucking her taste greedily, hands pushing her thighs down in resistance to her instinct to close them.

“B–Baby…” she breathed, head trying desperately to stay up and look at you between her legs, you hummed in response as a question, “Please…”

“What’s wrong, love?” You responded like she had done previously, between suckles and breaths in her thighs. Her slick clung to your lips in strings as you spoke, and she let out another mewl at the sight. 

“Need you, on my clit…babe, please.” Her voice was breathless, barely there. And with that magic word, those nice manners, your lips wrapped around the puffy bundle of nerves. And the moan that came from this girl’s mouth was obscene; there may have been a few noise complaints waiting for you the next morning, but every whine, groan, and scream from her was honey, a melody to your ears.

“Fuck!” Her hips reached up, smushing her cunt further into your face. You shoved her hips down roughly, pinning her to the pillow under her and scolding her to stay still. Your lips were around her clit, yes, and your tongue was working away at it, but it was faint, tauntingly so. Her breath was erratic, hands wound tight into your scalp as her back arched into the air. 

“Soooo fucked out for me,” you hummed against her clit, making her jolt at the stimulation,  “so needy like this. Making me all horny again, Els.” 

“Then—fuck!—get on me.”

The soft hmmm? That vibrated against her clit made her choke a sob, one of her hands released from your hair, and shot up to cover her face, arm slinging over her eyes as her cheeks flushed deep red.

But you didn’t make her say it twice, you released your lips with a pop! and spread her legs open, looking down at the mess made between her thighs. Slick painted her flesh, stringy and wet. The sight made your own cunt throb tenfold.

“Show your pretty face, Els.” You murmured, finding your place between her legs.

Her torso leaned to the side to fit, one leg propped up as you slid your clit against her own. The moment your hips snapped against hers, once your cunt connected, Ellie’s breath hitched, and her hands desperately shot out for your thighs, grinding with a shake to her hips that came with being too close.

The second wave built fast; listening to your whiny girlfriend babble in a pussy-drunkened mess was a contributor. She shot off little gasps and whimpers as her high climbed to the edge just as yours was. Her eyes fought themselves to stay open, to watch you on top as you ground her cunt against your own.

“Babe,” Ellie groaned, panting with a heave to her chest, trying so hard to wait for you to come first, to be good. 

“Mhm,” your eyes were squeezed shut, focusing on getting to where she was, and when you felt just at the edge of coming, all it took was a nod, and Ellie let out a sick, obscene moan. Her orgasm flushed onto your own core, and yours followed, folding over onto her torso with a strangled groan. 

Your breathing mixed as you came down from the high, hips still jutting, but slower, lazier. Wringing every last bit out.

And when you collapsed beside her, both of your breaths evened out, and she turned to you with a fucked-out grin. 

“What?” You chuckled.

“Whatever you did…” Her voice was hoarse, and she leaned in to kiss your neck. When she did, she inhaled the smell of your leftover perfume. “You should do it more often.” 

☆.｡.:*-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

MNDI Banner source: cafekitsune

[grracyn]

UGH theme is cunt as fuck, writing is even better

purr thank you mami 😛

[loserabby]

hey babe!!

you're like the queen of pretty posts, and I always see you use gradients, so I thought you could help me with this.

I use whatever gradient I want with my desired font, BUT when I go to paste the html code, it comes up like this:

Any ideas? What do you do?

uhhhhhhhhh i'm so sorry but i have not got a clue WHAT is going on there, i don't actually use gradients bc i could never get them to work 💀💀

i'm posting this bc HOPEFULLY someone who follows me knows what is going on here maybe @grotesquevi or @cruxotic ik you guys use gradient text?

[notlinearr]

ɴᴏ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ! but you sure can try

Being the CIA's top cybersecurity software analyst had its perks - and for Ellie, that was tapping into her beautiful neighbor's old security cameras that nobody knew were still live. A little people watching never hurt.

Pairing: Cyberstalker!Ellie x Reader

──Tags and content warnings: MDNI, perv!ellie, obsession, cyberstalking, loser!ellie, unreliable narration

PROLOGUE:

"our top dog"

wc: < 2k

Keyboards clacked throughout the building; the soft chatter and hum of coworkers blended into the office sounds. Late-afternoon phone ringing, the annoying-ass microwave in the break room that never shut up, email notifications, and the sound of fresh code. It all combined into a frequency that Ellie’s ears learned to filter out.

Her back hurt; hell, everything of Ellie’s ached. What they didn’t tell you about working with technology all day was the strain it put on your posture—eyes too. Code had been engraved into her brain over the years, but it had also been long enough to burn into her corneas. 

Not only was she sore, but she was also exhausted. She swore the screen had grown since she’d been oggling at it, staring at the computer screen. It blinked back at her, the cursor probably judging the dark circles under her eyes, the slightly frazzled hair she didn't have time to comb through that morning. 

A voice jolted her from the half-asleep zombie state she’d fallen into.

“Williams!” Heels clicked against the marble with authority.

Ellie straightened too fast, wincing at the protest in her spine. Her boss stood beside her desk, arms folded—not angry. Maybe a mix of disappointment and concern. Which, arguably, was worse. Chief Cage, the five-foot-seven resting bitch-face of a woman, stood tall, enough so that Ellie had to tilt her head up to catch a glance.

Blazer had one button undone today, but she still looked put together in that effortless, government-issued way. Blonde hair, kept slicked into a tight bun and disciplined. A sharp, deliberate set to her jaw. The kind of blue eyes that had years of experience behind them. They didn’t miss, didn’t forgive much either.

She shifted her weight slightly, one hand resting on the back of Ellie’s chair instead of crossing her arms. A small tell. Less confrontation than usual.

“I was under the impression this was priority.”

“It is,” Ellie replied automatically.

“Because when I’m asked for progress, and I give them ‘she’s close,’ I prefer that to be true.” The screen reflected faintly against the lenses of her glasses. Cat Eye, sleek. She glanced at the unchanged build.

“We’re still sitting on yesterday’s version.”

Ellie nodded once, already tapping at keys to make it look less damning. “Just refining.”

“Refining,” she repeated evenly. 

“Mm-hm,” she replied, nodding as she stared ahead at the computer. Her eyes drifted to her phone—it sat neatly on the table, taunting her with the promise of you. The camera software she downloaded, one she didn't dare look at around her coworkers.

Cage’s gaze flicked to her for a second longer than necessary—taking in the shadows under her eyes, the slight delay in her responses.

“You’re one of my best analysts,” she said quietly. “But lately? I’m defending potential instead of results. And while I don’t need your brilliance, Williams, I at least need your consistency. Preferably before higher-ups begin asking me why I’m extending deadlines.”

“Right.” The auburnette nodded, “Yeah. Won’t happen again.”

“If something’s dividing your attention,” she continued, voice lower now, “handle it. I don’t want to have to start reallocating assignments because you’re… stretched thin.”

Ellie nodded again. “Won’t happen.”

Her jaw tightened firmly.

“I know what you’re capable of, Williams. That’s why I haven’t moved this yet.” A beat. “Don’t make me regret that.”

Chief stood up straight, posture pulling fully into command mode again.

“And get me something I can show upstairs before end of day.”

Then she was gone.

Ellie turned off the ignition, the engine ticking and wheezing as it cooled, metal settling like it was exhaling after a long day. The quiet that followed rang in her ears. She sagged back into the seat for a beat to feel her spine decompress. Her hand reached up automatically, flipping down the overhead mirror. She slid the cover aside. The plastic snapped open with a sharp click.

Jesus.

Her hair was a mess—loose strands stuck to her temple with dried sweat. Her under-eyes were bruised-looking, faint purple shadows sinking into her pale skin, and her eyes seemed… dimmer. She leaned closer to the glass, squinting. Was that scientifically possible? Could eyes lose their glow?

A car door slammed somewhere ahead, the sound cracking through the still air and vibrating faintly through her windows. Ellie blinked, distracted, gaze drifting past her own reflection—

—and landing on you.

The world seemed to refocus. Her world, more specifically.

You were a little windblown, grocery bag hooked in the crook of your arm, the thin paper crinkling dangerously under the weight. Your purse was slung loosely around your arm, phone clutched tightly in your hand like it was absorbing whatever stress you carried. 

“No, Abby, that’s not what I said—”

Your voice carried across the lot, sharp and low at the same time, like you were trying not to make a scene but couldn’t quite keep the heat from seeping out. You paced a half step, then stopped yourself, jaw tightening. The crease between your brows hadn’t been there this morning.

Familiarity settled in Ellie’s chest anyway. The cadence of your voice. The way you tucked your chin when you were frustrated. The stubborn set of your stance when you felt cornered.

The seatbelt snapped back with a thwip as she unbuckled it, fumbling slightly in her rush. She pushed the door open, stepping out into the sunlight. Heat kissed her skin instantly, warming her cheeks, her arms. The breeze caught her hair at the nape of her neck, tugging loose strands free and brushing them across her lips.

She laughed under her breath and tried to tame it with her fingers. It was pointless. Her hands were still shaky from the long day.

God, she felt stupidly giddy.

Like a teenager. Not just dead-eyed in a mirror thirty seconds ago. You did that to her; you were her revival, her espresso.

You adjusted the grocery bag against your hip and started up the apartment steps. The building cast long shadows now, the light slanting sideways, catching in your hair.

“Look, all I’m asking is that you come over tonight—“ Your voice echoed against the metal of the stairs, tense and exasperated, “—I don’t care how late. I just want to see you.” 

Ellie was halfway across the lot when she realized you weren’t slowing down.

“Hey—” she called lightly, jogging the last stretch, soles scuffing against pavement. She took the stairs two at a time to catch up, breath puffing out in a soft laugh. “You planning on outrunning me or what?”

She kept her tone easy. Friendly. The smile she mastered that showed teeth but not nerves. You didn’t smile back, just glanced at her over your shoulder, and ended the phone call.

You turned back to the steps, returning to the climb. Guarded. “Hi, Ellie.”

That did something small and unpleasant to her stomach.

She slowed behind you, then moved up alongside as you reached the first landing. The air up there felt different—less breeze with more heat trapped against the stucco walls.

“I was gonna text you,” she chirped, hands slipping into her pockets like she was just casually there, totally not rehearsing lines in her head. “Thought maybe we could maybe grab dinner. Or coffee—” she tilted her head, gently playful, “You need help?”

It typically worked on you, loosened your shoulders, and gave Ellie some points, but you adjusted it tighter against your side, fumbling with your keys as you climbed the second set of stairs. The sound of the silver reverberated against the walls, mixing with your breath and the crinkling of the bag.

“I’ve got it, thanks though.” Your tone was flat. Preoccupied and bothered.

Ellie’s grin faltered for half a second before she recovered. “Right. Yeah. Of course you do.” She let out a soft huff of a laugh, stepping up beside you at the top. “Still. We could hang out. If you wanted—or I could just bring something here.”

You stopped at your door.

The key didn’t go in right away. You stared at the lock instead, the set swinging in your hands idly.

Ellie’s heart started doing that quick, hopeful thing again, anticipation buzzing under her skin. She read the room, but couldn’t help but offer dinner or some sort of opportunity that granted her wiggle room. She leaned one shoulder against the railing, trying to look relaxed.

She told herself she wasn’t pushing. She wasn’t like that. She didn’t corner people. Didn’t maneuver them into things they didn’t want like Abby did.

She just… knew when to lean in. And when to step back, especially with you.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” she added lightly, tossing her hand out haphazardly in a shrug motion, like it hadn’t mattered in the first place. As though she hadn’t jogged across the sidewalk with her pulse in her throat. “I just figured… You sounded like you could use a break.”

You exhaled through your nose. Not exactly annoyed. 

“Tough day?” she tried again, softer now. Seeing her opening. She adjusted her stance, angling her body slightly away instead of toward you—giving space without making a show of it. You were like wired headphones, knotted up after hours of tumbling. But patience, enough detangling with nimble fingers eventually loosened the knot that held it all together. Only then could Ellie listen to her favorite music.

The key finally slid into the lock.

You didn’t look at her when you spoke. “It’s just… a lot.”

Knot loosened.

Ellie nodded once. Understanding. She understood you so much she could almost see the calculus happening behind your eyes—Abby, the phone call, the groceries digging into your arm, the fact that Ellie was standing with that hopeful half-smile she always wore, and it didn’t cost her anything.

She didn’t let the smile slip. Not yet.

“Another time,” you said, and it came out soft. Almost careful. “Maybe we can do dinner another time. As friends.”

As friends.

There it was. A line drawn so lightly, most people would pretend not to see it.

Ellie saw it. Her jaw tightened for the smallest fraction of a second—gone before it could register. But to you, she was most people. So she, too, pretended not to see it. She gave a small shrug instead.

“Yeah,” like that had been the plan all along. “Another time. You’ve got my number.”

The corners of your mouth lifted, relieved.

“I do.”

She pushed off the railing, already retreating to the side for her own door. “Text me if you need help carrying round two.”

You huffed a quiet, genuine laugh at that.

“I will.”

Your door opened. You slipped inside. The door clicked shut.

Ellie’s smile finally dropped.

Her own door shut behind her within the minute, and she felt the mask slip entirely. 

Her keys found themselves tossed onto the counter with a jingle, her feet drifting on their own towards her office—her room, she moved her computer in there after dedicating so much time to you—and her body slumping into her chair like routine. Because that’s what it was, routine. 

Not only had code become so engraved into her day, her brain, her eyes. But turning on her monitor directly after work, gliding the cursor over to the file in the corner of the screen, and seeing the blue hues—the code, your code—light up with life, had carved its way into her life. Into her heart. 

Your apartment, dirty dishes in the kitchen sink, decorative pillows strewn on the floor in your room that you never put back onto the bed, the half-dead plant in your living room that slightly resembled your state of mind. It was yours.

And after hours, days, endless nights of watching you, making sure you were safe, bringing you the things you were too afraid to ask for when you needed them, building the very furniture you reside on after a long day...

She earned the right to call it hers, too.

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[notlinearr]

𝓙𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓸𝓷!𝓔𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓮 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓒𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

I think about the Jackson era far too often. She was so delicious, I fear.

Jackson!Ellie who snuck into your room in the middle of the night to surprise you in the morning when you woke up, only for her to stub her damn toe on the foot of the bed in the pitch black and curse to herself under what she thought to be her breath, waking you up. She would admit defeat and climb into the sheets with you, murmuring a small “surprise,” before kissing your temple and snuggling up with you in the dark.

Jackson!Ellie who freaked the fuck out when you first had sex. She, a secretly clumsy virgin, really just followed your lead. You didn’t know what you were doing either; both of you were akin to fawns on new legs, tumbling over each other and trying your best to blend in—despite neither of you knowing what the hell was going on. But once you both got the hang of it…?

Jackson!Ellie who once found her rhythm, became a cocky horndog. She figured out where to put her hands when she ate you out or how to press her knee against your clit when you sucked her bottom lip. Once she started, you could not rip her off. And you figured out very quickly how little it took to get this girl turned on. 

Jackson!Ellie who wasn’t too touchy in public, always worried about not what other people would say about her, but about you. She would grab your hand, though, and guide you through small crowds with her palm splayed onto your lower back for support; her arm also found the counter or rail behind you often, draping it along the posterior of your shoulder blades. However, once she got you into a private area, like the back of the stables or the bathroom of the Tipsy Bison, she would run her hands along your hips, hug you from the back, nudge her nose into the crook of your neck like you were her favorite smell (you were), and tell you how much she missed you (she had been working with you all day).

Jackson!Ellie who hated going out on patrols with you. In fact, told Maria to keep you off the list overall…she was rejected, of course. She didn’t hate being with you, not at all. She hated the danger that came with it outside of Jackson’s walls. She hated how her heart sped up at the crack of a twig or a rabbit running out from the bushes. She hated it when your horse got a quick spook, jumping to the side and throwing you off balance for a moment. But most of all…Ellie hated it when you took out a clicker without her, when you wandered off at the posts, and made her anxiety tick up each foot you strayed. When you returned, she would inspect you with worry, checking you for bite marks or any sign of harm.

Jackson!Ellie had a heart attack when she first met you. This girl was all nerd and no muscle at fifteen, you as well, but Ellie didn’t see that. Dina and Jesse knew from the start that her blush was evident; her corny jokes didn’t land like they usually did when you weren't around. To them, it was crystal clear that Ellie was whipped.

Jackson!Ellie who asked to meet up together alone for the first time. Not really an ask, more like a blubber of a suggestion, she tried her hardest to feign nonchalance. Trailing behind Tommy with you on a patrol one morning, scratching the back of her neck as she suggested hanging out, “I mean, if you’re free…” This was Jackson…free time was quite common. That was the cover-up, Williams?

Jackson!Ellie who shot a dirty look at whoever she caught staring at you, some of the boys in your age range would not get the hint, and she was willing to swing. You, of course, were oblivious. A guy, Kyle, came up to you one day at the stables. Ellie had been untacking shimmer from a patrol, and you had just finished a groundwork session with a new filly. It boiled Ellie’s blood at how oblivious you were. Ellie grew up in QZs. She learned social cues, sarcasm, and the basics of general teenage things, all to keep her face intact. You? You grew up in Jackson; your parents found the settlement, joined it, and you were pretty much shielded from the outside since you were little. She, of course, wasn’t angry with you; she was furious at the guys who took advantage of that. 

“Hey, Y/n.” Kyle beamed, leaning on the fence and staring at you as you turned out the new filly to her dam. His eyes traced you like you were a piece of meat, and once Ellie finished putting her tack away, she stood at the corner of the run-in shed and made sure you were okay. You seemed fine, laughing along, leaning against the fence with ease. Your face had a soft smile to it, like the conversation was going well. 

“Maybe you can show me those riding skills sometime.” Kyle hummed, leaning forward with a wolfish grin. And that was enough. Ellie marched forward, and although she was yards away, her fists were already making indents into her palm, and her brow was already knitted together.

“Oh, sure! Shimmer has a free day tomorrow if you wanna come see her in action—” You agreed, smiling kindly, leaning a little ways away…why was he in your space all of a sudden? 

“I wasn’t talkin’ about the horse, baby.” He chuckled, and your smile dropped. Your mouth opened to speak—

“Back the fuck off.” Ellie spat, walking through the gate and shoving him away with a thud. Kyle simply laughed in her face. 

“Sorry that she’s so easy—” He didn’t get another word in once Ellie’s fist cracked with his face. The boy ended up with a broken, bleeding nose in the infirmary, and Ellie got more barn chores for the month. 

“Worth it,” she would groan when lying down with you after working all day.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

[notlinearr]

ＭＥＥＴ ＹＯＵＲ ＮＥＩＧＨＢＯＲ!

NOI⊥ƆƎNNOƆ ON

Ellie’s new to Santa Barbara. She keeps to herself, mostly—windows open but curtains half-drawn, truck always parked in the same precise spot. She’s closed off in a way that seems practiced, not necessarily rude. 

Still, she’s always friendly.

She’ll give you a wave when you pass on the sidewalk, that crooked almost-smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes but softens them anyway. She remembers your name after hearing it once. Remembers your coffee order, knows your favorite flowers.

She works for the government—that much she’ll admit. But the rest? Classified, apparently. When you ask what she actually does, she just shrugs, scratches the back of her neck, and says, “Paperwork.” You don’t believe her. Not with the early mornings or with the way she scans a room without seeming to, or answering her phone on the first ring.

She’s sweet in quiet, practical ways. Not many people have that anymore.

When you’re moving furniture, she shows up without being asked, sleeves already pushed up, strong hands steady and careful. She lifts like she knows exactly how much force to use—never careless, or showing off, but you notice the muscle along her forearms. When your grocery bag splits in the parking lot, she’s there in seconds, crouched beside you, helping you repack like it’s no big deal.

She’ll bring you flowers sometimes. Not grand bouquets, just simple ones. Something that “looked like you,” she’ll say, eyes flicking away bashfully. And somehow, on the exact nights you’ve had the worst day, there’s a knock at your door, and she’s standing there holding your favorite snack.

“I had extra,” she explains.

It’s like she can read your mind. Or maybe she just pays attention in ways most people don’t anymore.

There’s something guarded about her, but she’s an amazing person to have around.

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[notlinearr]

𝓘𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓴𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓔𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓮

You finally get your clumsy girlfriend out for a skating date, just to find she really is as bad as she claims.

Warnings / tags┈┈> fluff, men dni

wc: 620

It had taken weeks.

“Babe, I already told you,” Your girlfriend had whined, “I literally can't skate. Seriously, pick anything else. I’ll go shopping with you, try on whatever you throw at me. Anything.”

But after days of begging, shameless bargaining, and the occasional “Wow, it’d be soooo cute if you could skate with me,” slipped in like psychological warfare… she finally caved.

And—devastatingly for her pride—she was right.

Ellie was atrocious. Something not even a four-year-old could achieve.

Your arm, her personal crutch, was aching. Ellie had fallen on her ass about four times before finally being able to move on her own accord on the ice.

People whizzed by you, effortless and graceful, and Ellie watched them with open betrayal.

“See?” she huffed, pointing weakly at a little kid who glided past with a lazy spin. “That kid’s been alive for, like, twelve minutes and he’s already better than me. This is humbling.”

“You’re doing great,” you lied gently, tightening your grip when her knees wobbled again. 

“Pretty sure I haven’t left your side once.” 

“That’s not a bad thing.” You chuckled. 

Ellie narrowed her eyes at you suspiciously. “What's that tone? I don't like that tone. You sound like you have an idea.”

“I just think you’re ready to try on your own.”

Her expression immediately twisted into pure horror. “Whoa, whoa—ready? Let’s not say crazy things we can’t take back.”

Before she could protest further, you gently loosened your hold and skated ahead just a foot, watching as you glided backwards.

Instant chaos.

Her arms shot out, flailing wildly as she windmilled like a startled baby deer on black ice. Her knees locked, then unlocked, then locked again, and her skates scribbled frantic little lines across the rink.

“I TAKE IT BACK,” she yelped. “I TAKE BACK EVERYTHING I’VE EVER SAID, COME BACK—”

“You’re fine!” you laughed, hands hovering inches away, ready to catch her. “You’re literally doing it.”

She wobbled, teetered, and pointed an accusing finger at you mid-flail. “You can’t just abandon me in the wild like this. I trusted you.”

You skated closer, still not touching her. “Look at you though. The picture of balance. Olympic material.”

“Babe I’m so serious if I fall one more time I’m actually never doing this again—“

“Okay, okay.” You giggled, swerving back to her side. She latched back onto you like velcro, huffing a small “thank you.” as you returned to a soft glide through the rink.

“You’re silly.”

“Shut up. You’re lucky I love you.”

The words slipped out so naturally she didn’t even seem to notice—just kept skating beside you, pushing with a little more confidence. Still shaky, but she was still trying her best.

Her skate caught a tiny ridge in the ice, and her confidence evaporated mid-step. She slipped, arms flying out in a blink as she crashed down onto the ice with a dramatic thump.

There was a split second of silence.

Then you laughed. Helplessly.

Ellie blinked up at the sky, breath puffing out in a defeated cloud. “Wow,” she deadpanned. “You didn’t even hesitate.”

“You just looked so—graceful,” you grinned, skating over, crouching down, and holding a hand out to her. “C’mon, disaster. Up you go.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously but took your hand anyway. “If you drop me, I’m breaking up with you on the spot.”

“I would never—”

She yanked.

Hard.

You let out a very undignified yelp as she used your momentum against you, pulling you straight down with her until you landed in a tangled heap on the ice. Cold seeped instantly into your jeans as your back hit her chest and Ellie burst into laughter—unrestrained, victorious laughter.

“Oh my god,” she wheezed. “Worth it.”

⋆⁺⁀༄⋆❅. Perm Taglist: @oddsandends-dirt-to-dust @andieprincessofpower @valeisaslut @girl-so-gay @cutflwr @archersbows @letmebeurbaby @iceprincess333

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[notlinearr]

𝓡𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓰𝓪𝓭e ﾟ☆.・ 𝓢𝓹𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓻!𝓔𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓮 𝔁 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

Loser!Ellie just so happens to host radioactive spider powers. You just so happen to be her girl of interest.

Read previous chapter here

Chpt. 5 | Vanilla

The sound of the party dulled the moment Ellie closed the door behind her. In its absence, the room felt softer, more intimate. You were sitting neatly at the edge of the bed, hair loose around your shoulders, skin catching the dim light in all the right places. She caught the warm trace of vanilla from where she stood, and something fluttered low in her stomach as she took a careful step forward.

“Quiet up here,” you said, almost to yourself, though your eyes tracked every movement Ellie made.

She stopped in front of you, looking down as you tilted your face up to meet hers. A small pause hung between you, but the moment Ellie leaned in, your lips met hers without hesitation. Instinctively, she stepped closer, easing you down against the mattress as the kiss deepened.

Her hands found your hips, gently pulling you farther back on the bed until your legs tangled and she hovered just above you. You broke apart for a breath, skin flushed and warm where it touched. You smiled up at her—movie-scene perfect, unreal in the soft light—and she couldn’t help but smile back, brushing another kiss to your lips.

But as she pulled away, something in your expression shifted. A flicker—uncertainty? conflict?—crossed your face before you could hide it.

Your hands slid up to her shoulders—and then, with a sudden push, Ellie was on her back, breath caught. You sat up quickly, guilt already written across your face.

“I’m sorry,” you said, shaking your head. “I just…I like someone else.”

A beat.

“It’s complicated—but it’s not fair to you.”

The words landed like a thud in Ellie’s chest. And still, through the sting, a spark flared. This—this was her opening. She could tell you. She had to tell you.

You stood, smoothing your shirt and gathering your hair into a quick tie, retreating toward the door like you needed distance to breathe.

“Wait—”

Ellie shot up, heart racing, catching your wrist before you could leave. You turned, startled.

“I’m Spider-Girl,” she blurted, breathless. “I’m her.”

You froze. Your brow knitted tight, confusion clouding your face. You searched hers, like the pieces were there—just scrambled, failing to click into place.

“Look.”

She let go of your wrist and stepped back, pulse hammering as she glanced up at the ceiling. Then she jumped—fingers catching easily. She held there, suspended, just long enough for you to see.

You didn’t move. Your expression gave her nothing—blank.

Ellie dropped to the floor with a soft thud. “I probably wasn’t the person you were thinking of—”

But before she could finish, you surged forward. Your lips crashed into hers with a sudden urgency that stole her breath.

Her back hit the wall. Your body pressed against hers, all heat and motion and intent. She grabbed your hips and shifted, guiding you back a step as you swapped places. You moved like you’d done this a thousand times—like you both had.

The scent of vanilla bloomed stronger as Ellie dipped her head to your neck, pressing soft kisses along the curve of it. Your breath caught. One hand fisted gently in her hair, the other gripped her hip like you wanted her.

Heat flushed through her—tight in her chest, her spine, curling low in her stomach as your breath grew shallow against her ear—

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Ellie flinched so hard she nearly fell off the bed. The alarm wouldn’t shut up. She slammed her hand down on it blindly, teeth clenched, body still very much reacting to something that wasn’t real. The clock shattered, wires bouncing out like some sort of cartoon, forgetting her strength.

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered, dragging a hand down her face. Her heart was thudding.

She sat there in the cold, tangled in her sheets, glaring at the ceiling like it owed her something. Her head dropped back with a groan.

“What the fuck was that, Ellie?” she snapped at herself, voice sharp in the empty room. “Absolute pervert.”

She grabbed a pillow and chucked it across the room. It hit the door with a dull thud.

Pathetic.

Ellie flopped back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling, her body still buzzing like it hadn’t gotten the memo that the show was over. And now she needed a new fucking alarm clock.

You smelled so familiar when Ellie sat next to you that morning. The teacher droned on about new content while the auburnette tried not to turn toward you and confess every little thing. Your perfume was stronger, sweeter than usual.

But you also seemed quiet, locked in your own thoughts. Ellie’s phone buzzed:

Tony: See me after school—office.

Curt. Hopefully, he could help her repair the damage her suit had.

Ellie huffed and set the phone down with more force than intended. You jolted at the sound, loud enough for the nearby tables to notice, but not the whole class.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “I forget my strength.” She forced out a chuckle, desperate to get you to open up. What were you thinking? Quiet dread sat in the back of her throat like bile at the thought of you returning to your room and finding that she Spider-Girl, had left yesterday. 

You gave her a faint grin before returning to your work. Your eyes looked tired—dulled from too much wear, like jewelry left rattling inside a box.

The silence between you stretched. Ellie’s leg itched to bounce, nerves coiling in her calf. The teacher’s voice droned on in the background, lost against the glow of the board—the only real light in the room besides the dim spill from overcast windows.

Then—

“That new?”

Ellie’s head snapped toward you. Your gaze was fixed on her cheek.

A bruise. From yesterday.

“Yeah,” she muttered, tucking her hair behind her ear and angling herself toward you just slightly. “Ran into a door. Was looking at my phone.”

She forced another chuckle, light and dismissive.

You hummed, skeptical, the corner of your mouth twitching.

“Thought someone decked you.”

You looked back at your notes, but not before your eyes lingered—just a second too long.

“What? You think I’d let someone hit me?” Ellie tilted her head, grinning. “I’m too quick for that.”

“Right.”

You didn’t turn—just tossed the word sideways, pen still moving.

Ellie hummed back, quieter this time. Choosing silence over pressing whatever that was.

The rest of the class passed without another word between you. And when the bell rang, Ellie was already slipping out the doors, headed for Stark’s office—nerves tighter than before.

“This?” Tony half-shrieked as Ellie dropped the suit onto the table. “This is an abomination.”

He looked like he wanted to say something worse, but settled for flair. The girl only shrugged, heat prickling up the back of her neck.

“I did help the other day,” she offered, dangling her feet from the tall countertop.

“No,” Tony exhaled through his nose and picked up the torn, burnt-out spandex, holding it between two fingers like it might bite. “You didn’t press the button, tore up a bookstore, and then dipped without any further notice.” He dropped it into one of his repair cases, where robotic arms and lasers twitched to work. Sparks danced along the seams.

“Jesus,” Ellie muttered, watching the process.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

“Didn’t feel like going.”

Tony didn’t answer, just gave her a look like he could list a dozen more productive uses for her time—and decided against it. His tone shifted as he worked—lower, tighter.

“Y’know, when I designed the mask interface, I included full-vision capture. Tactical. Just in case.”

Ellie frowned. “For missions?”

“For everything,” he said. “Because your life is a mission now. Whether you like it or not.”

Then he clicked something. The wall screen lit up.

Ellie’s stomach twisted. She didn’t need to ask what it was. She already knew.

Six camera feeds. Stabilized, high-res, clean angles.

One: Ellie leaning on your desk, rifling through your things while you covered your face in tired protest.

Another: Ellie upside-down from your ceiling, legs crossed as you scribbled in your spiral notebook. Unbothered.

Another: you leaning out your window, elbow on the sill, face tilted toward her. Lit by your bedroom lamp. Laughing.

“I’m not mad,” Tony said.

Ellie blinked. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“I’m not,” he repeated. “I’m not even surprised.”

He turned, arms crossed. No shouting. No typical dramatics. Just…fact.

“You’re a teenage superhero. Of course, you’re gonna fall for someone. That’s not the problem.”

The screen shifted again. One last frame.

The feed from yesterday afternoon.

You. On the floor. Pajamas. Legs tucked up. Blood sliding down your chin.

Ellie’s hands in front of you, cupping your face as she peeled back a bloodied bandage.

The footage froze.

She said nothing. Her lungs felt too small.

Tony tapped a knuckle against the desk.

“This isn’t about surveillance. No one’s accessing this. My system’s more locked down than half the NSA. I’m not worried about someone stealing it.”

He met her eyes. Exact. Sans anger.

“I’m worried about someone watching you. Out there.”

He pointed past the monitor to the skyline.

“You think it’s cute, the rooftop rendezvous, the midnight drop-ins, but you’re building a pattern. You’re dropping breadcrumbs. You’re creating a neon arrow that says this one matters to me. And trust me, Ellie…”

His voice sharpened.

“When someone wants your attention, they’ll track every tiny pattern. Everywhere you go.”

Ellie swallowed.

“You think your enemies are gonna care she’s not part of this? You think they’ll spare her just because she didn’t sign up?”

The hum of tech filled the silence.

“I know what it’s like to care about someone you can’t protect. So hear me: the second they realize she’s leverage, she stops being a person to them. She becomes a way to break you.”

Ellie’s jaw tightened. She looked at the still frame on the monitor. Your eyes. The way you’d looked at her—even after what she’d dragged you into.

“You want her safe?” Tony said, softer now. “Then don’t make her visible. Because if they see her, they’ll never unsee her.”

He powered the screen off.

The room felt colder without it.

“Does she know anything?” Tony asked.

“No.” Ellie’s voice came out sharper than she intended.

Tony cocked an eyebrow, calculating. He leaned against the marble counter, elbows down.

“You got a plan?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Well,” he said, gesturing broadly, “you’re gonna see her again. Might as well be prepared.”

“You just told me not to see her.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yes you did.”

“No,” he corrected, stepping toward the glass case where bots sparked and stitched her suit. “I said stop making her a visible target.”

Ellie glared at his back. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“You’re not hearing me,” Tony said. Calm. Dad mode. “I’m not telling you to stay away from her. I’m telling you to stop announcing it to the whole damn city every time you swing by her window.”

Ellie shifted her weight, words scraping somewhere inside her ribs. “I’m not—”

“You are,” Tony cut her off. “You’ve already made her part of this. You just didn’t realize it.”

That landed. Sharp. Ellie glanced down at her hands. Fingertips still scabbed from last night.

“I know this part sucks,” he went on. “The part where what you want and what’s safe don’t match.”

Ellie didn’t say anything. She couldn’t.

“But you need to ask yourself something. Is this thing between you two strong enough to survive without the suit? No rooftop entrances. No theatrics. Just…Ellie.”

She looked at him.

“You think I’m strong enough to do that?”

Tony shrugged. “Kid, I’ve seen you hold up collapsing concrete with one arm and still ace a biomechanics test the next day. You’re stronger than you think.”

Ellie let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, fingers flexing like she could shake the tension out through her knuckles.

Doubt crept back. “What if she doesn’t like just Ellie?”

Tony tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “Then she’s not the one.”

Her brows softened. Her mouth opened to respond—

cachuk.

Ellie’s eyes darted to the sound.

“Where did that come from?” she asked, gesturing at the Red Bull in his hand.

He shrugged. “Installed a mini-fridge.”

Ellie couldn’t help but chuckle.

Tony took a quick sip. “I’ll finish the suit by tomorrow. Try not to die before then.”

“Thanks.” She pushed off the counter, heading for the door.

“Oh—” Stark turned, pivoting on his heel and pointing a finger at her like he’d almost forgotten.

“Yeah?” She turned too.

“Just—make sure the ex is out of the picture first. Don’t be an asshole.”

read next chapter here

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