slowly finding my way back to the canvas ✍🏻 it’s been a while, but it feels so right to be back in my creative element. Still a work in progress though so I’ll post the final version once it’s done!
Your best friend Ellie has always known you better than anyone else and lately, the tension between you is impossible to ignore. When someone stands just a little too close to her one night, something in you snaps. Jealousy turns into want, and everything clicks. Ellie has spent years listening, noticing, learning you. So when the line finally breaks, she knows exactly what to say, where to touch, and how to make you feel seen.
includes: swearing, smut, servicetop!ellie x bottom!reader, fingering (r receiving), lots of dirty talk but in a sweet way
mentions: insecurities
word count: 2,4k
After a long night of drinking, smoking and dancing your best friend Ellie and you walk home to your apartment. The silence between you is thick, the only sounds are your shoes on the pavement and the quiet rustle of her leather jacket around your shoulders.
“Wanna tell me what’s wrong?”, Ellie asks soft but sharp, her eyes watching you as you dig out the keys from your bag to unlock the door of your apartment building.
“It’s nothing.”, you mutter, pushing the door open with too much force, already speeding towards the old elevator. The doors slide open with a creaking sound. This lift has definitely seen better days. The button for the 4th floor lights up as you press it.
Ellie mutters something under her breath as she steps in after you. “Bullshit.” You don’t dare to look at her, staring at your feet instead. Cause she’s right. It’s not nothing.
A feeling of annoyance settled in your bones the second a girl started talking to Ellie tonight. She was short, had black hair and these brown hypnotizing eyes. She was hot. Too hot for your liking. Also way too touchy for someone Ellie barely knew.
The elevator ride was painfully long, the tension between you could be cut with a knife. “This girl.”, you start through gritted teeth, not able to hold back your jealousy anymore.
“Cat.”, Ellie corrects, still oblivious. “That’s her name.”
“Cat.”, you repeat, the name tasting bitter on your tongue. “You have a thing for her?” Your words are sharp but still laced with some kind of feigned nonchalance.
“What? No. No, I don’t like her. Not like that.”, Ellie responds, slowly catching on, putting the puzzle pieces together.
The lift comes to a stop, ringing as the doors slide open. You two enter the long hallway, striding towards your apartment. “She likes you.”, you murmur, unlocking the door quickly.
“Okay.” Ellie’s kicking off her shoes, watching you like she’s solving some crime. The way your jaw clenches, the way you avoid her face. It only fuels her suspicion.
You want to walk past her, go to bed, sleep away this gut wrenching feeling and dream about the way Cat was touching Ellie. But she stops you. Not physically. No, with her words.
“You’re jealous.”, Ellie states almost naturally, leaning against the doorframe.
You freeze and turn to face her. “What? No.” Shit. You shallow, words stuck in your throat. The room suddenly feels way too small for this conversation. “I just didn’t like the way she was groping you all night.” A huff.
“You’re pissed because a girl was interested in me. Are you listening to yourself right now?! Cause this sounds like jealousy to me.”, she scoffs, taking a step forward. You can’t be serious right now…
You snort, cheeks reddening after being called out. “Come on. You act like our friends that desperately want us to make out.”
It’s true. Your friends always say flirty things about the two of you, swearing that you’re a couple or giggle when you sit too close. You always rolled your eyes and pretended you were annoyed even though you secretly enjoyed it. You were clawing onto their teasing since that’s the only proof you had that Ellie and you were more than friends. More than best friends.
“Yeah and there’s a reason why they do.”, she murmurs, suddenly way too close, making it hard for you to stay composed.
Her gaze is burning into yours like she wants to read your mind. “You know how many people are betting on us getting together?”, her weight shifts from one leg to the other, inching even closer.
“But they’re wrong.”, your words sounding more like a question than a fact. It’s unsure. It’s you silently begging her to shake her head. To tell you they were right all along.
A second passes. Then a quiet murmur. “Are they? Cause I’m starting to think they’re onto something…”
The words hang in the air between you for a moment. Shit… You feel like you can’t breathe, the air too thick to shallow. “Onto something..?” Your voice comes out hushed, barely audible.
“Mhm..”, Ellie nods, placing a hand on your waist, caging you between the door frame and her body. “They think I’m head over heels for a girl that can’t admit she’s jealous.”
Your whole world shifts, you brain short circuits as you let out a shaky breath. “Are they right?” This might be the only question in the world you desperately need an answer to. Something in Ellie’s gaze changes. It’s soft and promising but not less heavy. “Yeah. They are.”
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Your body is screaming, your heart pacing and all you can think about is her. Ellie Williams. Your best friend. You lurch forward, crashing your lips against hers. Everything is spinning, you barely register what you’re doing, you just know it’s what you need.
For a moment she’s frozen in place before she melts into your touch, her hands gripping your waist, pinning you against the door. “God…”, you sigh, your hands coming up to cup her jaw, pulling her even closer.
Ellie’s tongue swipes over your bottom lip, silently begging to enter. Who are you to deny this? Immediately you part you already swollen lips for her, meeting her tongue halfway.
It’s a game of push and pull, taking and giving until it both leaves you breathless and wanting more. As you pull back to get some air back into your lungs the realization kicks in. After years of dreaming about this exact moment, you finally got what you wanted. Got her.
Your hands tangle in her hair tugging her closer, needing her closer. A groan leaves Ellie’s throat as she starts to press soft kisses down your jaw. “You don’t know for how long I’ve been wanting to kiss you like this…”, she murmurs against your hot skin. Every brush of her lips, sends a shiver down your spine.
“How long?” A quiet whisper of curiosity as you stare up at the ceiling, losing yourself in what’s happening right now. Ellie stills, her movements falter. Then a faint mumble against your throat, almost too hushed to hear. But you hear it. “5 years…”
Five years? Ellie has been wanting you for five years. That’s half a decade. This confession knocks all the words that are left in you out of you.
“Say something…”, a slurred plea, as she cups your jaw, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Her touch is so gentle and gaze desperate like she can’t hold back anymore. Like she’s seconds away from completely losing it.
A shaky breath. “You have me now.”
That’s it. Ellie’s nails dig into your hips as she walks you towards your bedroom. You nearly trip and fall as she starts to suck marks on your neck. She kicks the door closed with too much force, the wood creaking in its angles. But none of you could care about that right now… “Ellie…”
Then your back hits the mattress and one second later she’s on you again, her weight pinning you into the mattress. "Need you now...", she murmurs against the hickey she just left, her hands skimming under your shirt, slowly pushing it up.
Every little touch of her calloused fingers leaves a shiver in its wake. Once your tanktop is off Ellie pulls back just enough to admire you. "Fuck... You're perfect." Her hand twitches against the soft flesh of your stomach, savoring every curve of you.
You lay there, wide eyed, not quite believing the way she worships you. The disbelief in your eyes doesn't go unnoticed by her. Of course she notices. She always does. "Hey. Stop that.", she murmurs genuinely.
“Stop what?” Your hushed words come out breathless as she presses a light kiss just under your navel, her hands rubbing circles on your waist, inching closer to your dark red lace bra.
“You really don’t get it? How gorgeous you are?” Another kiss, a little higher this time.
“No. I know. I just…”, you trail off cause you don’t even know what to say. You’re bare and vulnerable under her. Under Ellie.
“I know the way you look at yourself.” She’s at eye level now, staring into your eyes with so much love. Her fingers dip under the edge of your bra. “You know you’re beautiful but don’t believe it.”
Your breath hitches, a quiet gasp leaving your lips. Because how can she make you feel so good but still understand you so well. She knows what you feel, what you struggle with, what you think about. She knows you past the surface level.
“Ellie…”, you begin, you heart clenching at the ways she looks at you. “Shhh… Let me shut that pretty mind of yours up…”
And you let her. You don’t deny her. And as her hand pushes your bra up, revealing your breasts to her gaze, you let yourself get lost in the feeling.
Ellie’s fingers skim over the swell of your tits, pinching and rolling your nipples just right to get a reaction out of you.
“You’re so so perfect, love…”, Ellie murmurs as you whimper. Her hands touch your body so lovingly and lustful at the same time, you might just go insane.
While her thumb brushes over your nipple in circles she asks: “Tell me what you want. Stop thinking… just tell me.” Your breath hitches, brows knitting in pleasure as you coax: “Touch me.”
A soft groan leaves Ellie’s lips, the words sending shocks right to her core. “Yeah? Where? Be specific.”
Of course… of course she has to tease you. It wouldn’t be Ellie if she didn’t. “You know where…”
“Fuck no. I don’t.”, she’s huffing now, leaning closer to press open mouthed kisses against your abdomen. “Use your pretty mouth and tell me exactly where you want my hands.”
It takes all your willpower to comply and tell her what you truly want. A shaky breath. Then: “Between my legs…”
A chuckle can be heard and her hands already make its way to the waistband of your jeans, unbuckling your belt. “There you go. Was that so hard?”, she murmurs.
“Yeah it was.”, you huff as she strips you bare, leaving you just in your panties.
“Then you should get used to it.” She’s fully between your legs now, pressing light kisses to the inside of your knee.
Slowly but surely she drags your soaked panties down. The cold night air against your heat makes you shiver.
“Wanna make sure I do this right…”, Ellie confesses softly against the warmth of your thigh, eyes fixed on your beautiful face.
Her words sound almost ridiculous to you because you know she’ll do this right.
“Tell me how I do it right.”, she murmurs her fingers reaching out to rub slow circles on your clit.
A whimper in the silent night. Ellie’s making you feel so good it’s almost painful. Because this? Giving you the power to tell her what you need while also knowing exactly what you need is the best thing she could possibly do. It’s like she knows your language while also wanting to learn it from you. All over again until she’s fluent.
“J-Just like that… don’t stop”, you sigh, thighs quivering around her body.
Then two fingers push inside you, slow and agonizing. “Fuck like that? Or do you need me to go faster?”
“Faster..”, you’re panting already, the feeling of her fingers inside you almost too much to bear.
Ellie’s head is dizzy with need, just like yours. “Yeah you need it faster baby? Like that?” She’s picking up the pace, settling into a rhythm that makes your toes curl and back arch. “Mhm…”
You glance at her through dazed eyes, barely keeping yourself together. Her fingers stretch you out so good making you moan into the night. “S-so perfect… how do you know what I need…” It genuinely confuses you. Ellie knows exactly what to do to make you lose all your composure. Even though she never ever got to touch you like this before.
“Cause I know you.” A sharp thrust, making you whine, back arching off the mattress, thighs twitching. “I know what you like. What gets you off.”
“How.. we never f-fucked.. shit..”
“But I listen. Every time you talked about other people. I listened. I noted.”, she whispers into your ear, low and promising while hitting that sweet spot inside you.
That’s it. You pacing towards the cliff, almost tripping over the edge. Almost. A cry, your head falling back against the sheets. And she? She just continues to talk. To tell you how she figures you out.
“You give signals when you talk to me… or sit too close to me. It might be unclear to you, but I notice. I pay attention.”
Your thighs are close to snapping shut, but Ellie keeps them open with her weight, speed driving you towards the edge. “Shit you know me so well…”, you moan, now incredibly close.
“Don’t close in on me now… You’re so close… I can feel it.” A particularly rough thrust underlines her words with full force. “Gonna make sure you come all over my fingers first.”
You groan, hips stuttering, clenching hard around her fingers. “Shit Ellie…”, you coax out a cry. Then it happens. One moment your there, in your bedroom with her knuckles deep inside you. The next you’re gone. So far gone. You come hard and she’s here to catch you. To ground you. The waves of pleasure brush over you while she helps you ride out your high.
Then she slowly withdraws her fingers, leaving you boneless against the cushions. Ellie crawls up your body, tugging you into her arms, soft and gentle. “That’s it… You did so good baby…”, she murmurs, placing a kiss on the top of your head, letting you rest against her.
Once you got all your senses back you look at her. Truly look. Your eyes meeting her green ones. There is nothing but love and adoration left between you. Because Ellie’s right. She knows you inside out. She knows how to talk to you, how to touch you, how to treat you and how to catch you if you fall. And all that just because she pays attention to you.
And maybe that’s the best thing that can ever happen to someone. Being studied so closely that another person could write a song in the rhythm of your heartbeat.
js know I reread fics like Collide and Unscripted by @valeisaslut and Renegade and Hydrangea by @notlinearr and when I see updates I physically stand up and celebrate like I won the lottery and I maybe, just maybe cry a bit when I read Collide and giggle at Renegade. js finished reading Unwritten by @lemonbbars and I'm alr hooked so I'm gonna read the updates and get through this amazing day because these wonderful writers updated their fics 🏄🥹
⊹ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬— Ellie Williams was always off-limits—your brother’s best friend, the girl who grew into your every fantasy and every rule you were never supposed to break. But years of glances, grazes, and games combust when she finally follows you down the hall. One party, one bathroom, and a decade of tension detonate behind a locked door.
⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭— 7.5k
⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬— bbf!top!ellie x sub!reader, oral sex (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), strap-on sex, semi-public bathroom sex, near-caught kink, ass slapping, tit play, rough sex, rachel and dina being iconic, soft power play, MEN AND MINORS DNI, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated.
Ellie Williams.
Your brother’s best friend. She’d been orbiting your life for as long as you could remember—sometimes barely noticeable, sometimes all you could see.
The one who never knocked. Who slid the door open like she owned the place, who kicked her sneakers off in the hallway, trailing dirt and laughter in her wake. Backpack slinging over her shoulder, controller dangling from her fingers, her voice already spilling down the corridor before she was even in the room.
You were younger, two years that mattered so much back then. Enough to keep you at the periphery, tolerated but not invited. You’d linger in the doorway of his room, pretending you had a reason to be there. Pretending you weren’t just there to ogle her.
Thirteen, your hair in a crooked braid, still fumbling with eyeliner and chipped nail polish when you first met her. The door opened and there she was—fifteen, all elbows and knees and freckled cheeks, auburn hair pulled back, sitting cross-legged with her whole body leaning toward the screen.
“Yo,” she muttered without looking up, thumbs flying, the glow of pixels flashing against her soft jaw. “Who's this?”
“My sister,” your brother said, shoving another chip into his mouth. “Ignore her.”
And then she turned. Sharp green eyes, a curl of her mouth, one dimple flashing.
“Ellie.”
It took less than a second before her head went back to the screen. A name she tossed like it was nothing, never imagining how much it stuck, how it pressed into your chest like a brand. That dizzy ache, that quickening pulse—you felt it before you even had a name for what it meant.
At first, it was harmless, dumb. A crush you hid in notebooks and in the way you lingered too long. You noticed everything: the way her socked foot tapped against the carpet, the way she cursed when she lost, the way her laughter cracked open the room.
But the crush grew with you.
At school, you saw her across the cafeteria. Always sitting with your brother, slouched in her chair like the entire world bored her, spinning an apple on the table while a girl leaned just a little too close.
You heard whispers—Ellie Williams broke hearts. Ellie Williams had a reputation. Ellie Williams snuck out behind the gym with a girl.
And every time, your stomach knotted. Because you could see it: the hand brushing hers, the tilt of a smile, the bite of a lip. You could imagine it so easily it was unbearable.
By then your fantasies weren’t innocent anymore. Not daydreams of sitting next to her with a controller in your hand too, but of her fingers curling under your chin, of her pressing you into the mattress, of that same laughter breaking against your mouth instead of the living room walls. You carried it like a fever.
But somewhere along the way, you weren’t just the little sister anymore. You grew. And you knew exactly how to use it in your favour.
It started with the shorts.
The heat was merciless that summer you turned fifteen. Air thick enough to choke on, dust motes hanging suspended in the sunbeams cutting through the blinds. You padded barefoot into the kitchen, skin sticky with sweat, cotton shorts clinging to your hips. They were worn soft, the elastic giving just enough to sit high on your waist and ride higher on your thighs with every step.
Ellie was there already, as usual—propped against the counter, soda can sweating in her hand, pretending to look interested in whatever dumb conversation your brother had just abandoned mid-sentence. Her hair was half pulled back messily, a few strands stuck damp against her temple, freckles stark against the flush the heat brought out.
You reached for the cabinet above her head, stretching on your toes to grab the cereal box shoved at the very back. Your shirt lifted as your arms extended, baring a sliver of skin at your waist, the hem grazing up and revealing more the longer you reached. The shorts shifted too, the fabric tugging across the curve of your spine, the seam biting higher with the stretch.
You didn’t even have to look to know she was staring. The charged silence that filled the space between you made you feel it. You let yourself linger, fingertips brushing the cardboard just out of reach, keeping your shirt rucked up, keeping the fabric stretched across you just long enough to test her.
When you finally glanced back, her eyes were already there—locked on you. On the curve of your ass, the length of your legs as you strained for the box. Then, syrup-sweet, you tossed a look over your shoulder.
“Whatcha staring at?”
It came out casual even when your pulse was racing, heart hammering with the thrill.
Her jaw was tight, soda can frozen halfway to her lips like she’d been caught mid-crime. Her ears burned red, freckles standing out darker across her skin.
“Nothing.”
The word cracked too fast, almost a stutter.
You smirked, plucked the box down, and turned away, satisfied with how your plan had worked.
Then came the towel.
Steam clung to your skin when you stepped out of the bathroom, the house’s warped mirror still fogged behind you. Droplets slid from your hair, tracing the slope of your collarbone, disappearing beneath the knot of white terry cloth barely cinched around your chest. The towel skimmed scandalously high at your thighs, shifting with every step, every sway of your hips as you padded down the hall.
You’d left your door unlocked on purpose. Timed it perfectly, slowing your steps when you heard hers up the stairs.
And sure enough—there she was, walking past at that exact moment.
“Oh—hey.”
Your voice lifted with feigned surprise, though you’d rehearsed it in your head.
Ellie stopped short, eyes catching on you like a hook snagged in fabric. For one beat too long she was staring shamessly—at the towel damp and clinging, at the shape of your tits pressed tight beneath, nipples hard and visible through the thin cloth. You watched her throat bob, her gaze flicker up too late.
“H-hey.” She muttered, her voice low and husky. Her hands shoved into her jeans pockets, knuckles straining against denim.
You leaned against the doorframe, tilting your hip, letting the towel loosen just enough to slip an inch lower. The corner of your mouth curled, knowing but innocent, inviting without ever saying so.
From the kitchen, your brother’s voice shattered the moment, shouting her name. Ellie tore her eyes away like the contact burned, muttering something that didn’t land, and brushed past you in a rush, the heat of her body grazing yours before vanishing down the hall.
After that, it was constant.
Well, you made it constant.
The little things stretched just far enough to matter. Brushing past her in the kitchen, letting your hand graze hers, lingering against her shoulder when you reached for a glass you didn’t need. Sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, knee angled so it rested lightly against hers. Sprawling across the couch in skirts that threatened to ride up with every shift of your thighs, slow sips from a water bottle, condensation slicking your fingers before you dragged them across your lips—tongue darting out to catch the moisture.
And every time, her eyes betrayed her. No matter how fast she looked away, no matter how sharp her jaw clenched, you saw it. The flash of hunger. The pause before retreat. The way her hand flexed against her thigh like she was physically holding herself back.
Your brother never noticed, too lost in his own noise, his own world. But you noticed. God, you noticed everything. The way Ellie’s laughter clipped short when someone else’s joke made you double over. The way her shoulders went rigid when another guy touched your arm in the cafeteria. The way her mouth opened like she might finally say something, only to snap shut again.
Ellie Williams. Your brother’s best friend. The girl you weren’t supposed to want.
And yet, the older you got, the more impossible it became for her to stop wanting you back.
Your house had been quiet all afternoon, the kind of silence only peaceful when your brother was upstairs. You were stretched across the couch, one leg bent, music thrumming faintly from the speaker on the coffee table. The summer heat clung to your skin, the old fan in the corner doing little to help when the doorbell rang.
Ellie stood there when you opened it.
Older now. Hotter. She wasn’t the lanky fifteen-year-old you’d first met, the one with messy hair and knobby knees trailing after your brother. No—twenty had sharpened her into something else entirely. Her hair was shorter now, cropped above her shoulders, auburn strands catching the light but darker at the roots.
New ink marked her forearm, black lines of ferns curling around a wide-winged moth, the shading so precise it seemed alive when she moved. The tattoo stretched when she shifted her grip on the comic book in her hand, flexing over muscle that hadn’t been there years ago.
“Thought your brother might kill me if I didn’t give this back,” she said, holding up the old Spider-Man issue with a half-grin.
You stepped aside, the brush of her arm against yours sending heat straight to your chest. She smelled faintly of smoke and cologne, that mix that was always so unmistakably her. She dropped the comic onto the table with a careless flick of her wrist and collapsed onto the couch beside you, spreading out, posture loose and infuriatingly comfortable.
You crouched low between the coffee table and the couch, stretching forward to fish out the remote that had slipped underneath. The cushions pressed against your ribs, shirt falling loose around the neckline as you leaned further. The fabric gaped, collar tugging low enough to bare the soft curve of your tits, nipples brushing faint against the thin cotton with each movement.
You felt the air shift before you even looked up.
Ellie wasn’t watching the television. Her body was still, shoulders rigid, but her eyes—her eyes were locked downward, shameless. Green gone dark, gaze fixed straight into the slip of fabric, drinking in the view like she couldn’t tear herself away. She dragged her bottom lip between her teeth, guilty and greedy all at once.
When you straightened, remote in hand, her head snapped up too late. She cleared her throat and tapped her fingers against her knee as if the nervous rhythm could erase the truth of where her eyes had been.
Your lips curved, satisfied, as you muttered. “So… there’s a party Friday.”
Her brow arched, skeptical but interested. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You tipped your head, letting your hair fall across your cheek. “You should come.”
Ellie leaned back, one arm thrown across the back of the couch, the other resting against her thigh. “Depends, your brother going?”
You sighed, rolling your eyes as if she hadn’t just pinned you with her stare. “Of course he is.”
She hummed, dragging the sound out slowly. “Then yeah... I guess.”
Her gaze swept over you again, openly this time. Down the slope of your bare legs, the hem of your shorts, the faint outline of your nipples pressing against your shirt.
The air between you tightened. She wasn’t the girl you’d crushed on at thirteen anymore. Freckles darker, shoulders broader, her tattoo shifting with every movement, and you couldn’t stop looking at it.
Her grin widened when she noticed your attention. She tilted her arm slightly, “Cool, huh?”
You swallowed, keeping your tone even though your pulse betrayed you. “Not bad.”
“Not bad?” she repeated, mock-offended, eyes glinting. She leaned in closer, elbow brushing your thigh, the scent of her shampoo strong in the warm air. “This took hours, hurt like hell, too. At least tell me it’s impressive.”
You grinned, playing with the hem of your shirt, letting the cotton slip lower on your shoulder. “Well… maybe I need a closer look.”
Her tongue pressed into her cheek as she stretched her arm out toward you. “Go ahead, princess. Judge art up close.”
You rolled your eyes at the nickname, but your fingers still found her wrist, thumb brushing against the edge of the ink. The skin was warm, firm under your touch. The moth’s wings curved when you turned her arm, ferns spiraling up toward her elbow. Ellie’s eyes never left your face, feeling the way you traced the lines.
“It’s… better than not bad,” you admitted finally, your voice softer than you meant it to be.
Ellie’s mouth curved slowly, “Thought so.”
You let her arm go, but the weight of it lingered, the heat of her skin burning against your palm even after.
“See you at the party, then?” you asked, forcing the words to sound light.
“Sure thing,” Ellie leaned back, green eyes still heavy on you. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,”
That was when the thud of footsteps hit—your brother’s heavy stride coming down. You sat up straighter, tugging your shirt into its original place. Ellie only shifted a little, grin sliding off her mouth as his figure appeared at the bottom step.
He landed in the armchair across from you both, eyes darting between you and Ellie. He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned back, arms crossed, mouth set in a flat line.
“You two good?” he asked finally, flicker of suspicion underneath it.
“Yeah,” Ellie said easily, scratching the back of her neck. “Just returning your comic, thought you’d hunt me down if I kept it any longer.”
He snorted. “Damn right. Don’t trust you with first editions.” His eyes cut toward you briefly, then back to her. “Besides, didn’t think you read that fast.”
Ellie smirked. “Guess I’m smarter than I look.”
“Debatable,” he shot back, though his gaze lingered a beat too long on her position on the couch—on how close she was to you. “Just make sure you don’t start flirting with my sister while you’re at it.”
Ellie’s jaw ticked, the grin still plastered on her lips not quite reaching her eyes now. “She was telling me about the party on Friday."
Your brother leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring her down in that way he always did when he thought he was the authority in the room. “Good. I’m going with her.”
Her eyes flicked to yours before she answered, a quick spark you caught, even if your brother missed it.
“Relax, bro,” she said, casual, too casual. “Your sis’s smarter than that.”
You felt the burn of her gaze linger a second too long before she finally turned on the TV, thumbing at the hem of her sleeve, the black lines of her tattoo stretching as her forearm flexed.
Your brother wasn’t convinced. You could see it in the way his shoulders stayed tense, in the way his eyes kept darting between the two of you—catching things neither of you said out loud.
That friday, the mirror didn’t even look like yours anymore.
It was streaked with steam from the shower you’d taken an hour earlier, but the girl staring back at you now wasn’t the kid who used to hover at the edge of your brother’s room. This was sharpened, intentional.
Your dress was black, cut short, the hem barely grazing the tops of your thighs. The neckline plunged deeper than anything you’d ever dared, clinging in all the right places, whispering with every shift of your body. You’d tugged your hair into perfect waves, gloss shiny on your lips, mascara smudged dark around your lashes.
The bedroom door creaked open without a knock—your brother, of course. He stepped in halfway, then stopped, eyes sweeping over you with a look that was half-annoyance, half-protection, all older brother.
“Remind me why you’re going to this party again?”
You rolled your eyes, reaching for the heels at the foot of your bed. “Because I’m eighteen, and I’m allowed to have fun without you policing my life.”
He folded his arms across his chest, leaning against the doorframe.
“Fun,” he repeated, unimpressed. “That's what we calling it now?” His eyes flicked over your dress again, and his jaw ticked. “Jesus, you’re really wearing that?”
You slipped a heel on, snapped the strap into place with a satisfying click, and looked up at him through your lashes. “Yep. Got a problem?”
He exhaled like he was already exhausted, rubbing a hand over his face. “You know Ellie’s gonna be there, right?”
You smirked, straightening to your full height in the heels, the black dress hugging tighter when you adjusted. “Cool.”
Your brother froze, suspicion flickering across his face. “Cool? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
You just shrugged, gloss catching the light when you bit your lip, voice dripping with mock innocence. “Nothing.”
He stared at you for a beat too long, jaw tight, before finally groaning under his breath and turning for the door. “Grab your damn bag—I’m driving.”
The ride was a blur of streetlights cutting across your window, bass rattling from the stereo, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He didn’t talk much, just muttered a warning here and there—“don’t get wasted,” “don’t do anything stupid,” “stick with me when we get there.” Every line edged with that older-brother grit, the kind that always came out harsher when he was worried.
When he finally pulled up outside the house—already pulsing with music, people spilling onto the lawn—you pushed open the door before he’d even killed the engine. The night air wrapped around you warm and electric, lights flashing from inside, laughter spilling across the yard.
Your brother caught up quick, locking the car and throwing you a look that was both warning and weary. “Stay where I can see you.”
You rolled your eyes and ignored him, music hitting you first—thick bass that rattled the walls and pressed heavy in your chest, voices spilling over it in waves. The house was packed, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, heat and perfume and sweat making the air humid. Colored lights strobed across faces, turning everyone into shifting silhouettes.
And then you saw her.
Ellie.
She was leaning against the kitchen counter with a red cup in her hand, surrounded by a cluster of friends—guys from your brother’s soccer team, a couple of girls you vaguely recognized from school. Dressed in black jeans and a faded tee that clung to her shoulders, her new tattoo stark against pale skin as she gestured lazily at whatever story she was telling.
She laughed at something, head tilting back, and you felt your stomach flip.
Your brother caught Ellie’s eye across the room and immediately cut through the crowd toward the group, his hand clapping down on one of the guys’ shoulders. She straightened a little when she saw him, green eyes flicking quick past him—then stopping.
On you.
Her smile faltered when she really looked. Took in the short black dress clinging to you, the way it dipped low on your chest, the glint of gloss on your mouth. Her jaw ticked, and she dragged her gaze away, back to your brother, but not before you caught the heat in it.
You let the corner of your mouth curl, turned on your heel, and slipped through the crowd until you found Rachel.
Rachel—your best friend, your partner-in-crime, the only girl who could match your sharpest edges—leaning against the kitchen counter, eyeliner sharp enough to kill, watching the party unfold with a look that screamed superiority. She spotted you immediately, lips curling into a wicked grin.
“Jesus christ,” She drawled, grabbing a red cup off the counter and shoving it into your hand before you could even say hi. “You look like a whore.”
You laughed, sharp and unbothered, tilting the cup to your lips as Rachel draped an arm over your shoulder. “Thank you babe.”
Rachel cackled, clinking her drink against yours. “No, like, a hot whore. A rich whore.”
“Better than looking like a poor whore,”
“True.” She adjusted her skirt, kicking her heels against the cabinet door. “Poor whores don’t get their tits done, and yours are giving main character energy tonight.”
“My tits ain’t—” Before you could fully retort, a familiar voice cut in. Warm, teasing, familiar.
“Wow, this is the most deranged conversation I’ve walked into all night.”
You turned to see Dina weaving her way toward you, curls framing her face, red cup in hand. She was glowing, skin dewy under the kitchen light, already half-buzzed judging by the easy sway of her steps.
“D!” Rachel yelled, nearly knocking over her cup as she reached to grab her arm. “Perfect timing. We were just discussing how hot she looks tonight.” She jabbed a finger at you.
Dina’s eyes swept you up and down, her lips quirking. “Okay, yeah. I see it. Total heartbreaker. Half this party’s about to write sad poems about you.”
“Only half?” you teased, raising a brow.
Rachel scoffed. “The other half’s just gonna try to finger you in the bathroom.”
Dina choked on her drink, laughing. “You’re disgusting.”
“You love me.” Rachel flipped her hair dramatically.
“I tolerate you,” Dina corrected, still laughing, then turned back to you. “Seriously though, you look incredible. Ellie’s here, right?”
Rachel’s grin went wolfish. “Oh, she’s here. And she’s staring so hard she’s about to burn holes in her ass.”
You snorted, hiding behind your cup. Dina leaned in, conspiratorial. “Should we do something about it?”
Rachel gasped theatrically, clutching her chest. “Oh my god, yes. Dance with us.”
Dina grabbed your hand, tugging you away from the counter. “C’mon. We’re not letting you stand here and waste your outfit.”
Rachel hopped down, nearly spilling her drink but saving it with a flourish. “To the dance floor!” she declared, striding into the crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea.
And you followed, laughing so hard your ribs ached, Dina tugging you close, Rachel swaying exaggeratedly to the beat. For the first time all night, you almost forgot about Ellie’s eyes tracking every move you made.
The three of you carved out space on the sticky floor like you owned it, shoving into the crush of bodies until the music wrapped around you. Dina still had your hand, pulling you in closer as she started to move with the beat, curls shining with every sway. Rachel, predictably, went full performance mode—hips swaying, one hand dramatically in the air, mouthing the lyrics like she was headlining Coachella.
“Rachel,” Dina groaned through a laugh, “the hell are you doin'”
Rachel only tossed her hair back, “Still hotter than every person in this room combined.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop laughing, hips moving with hers when she grabbed your waist. Your head tipped back in laughter, but your gaze snagged on the table across the room.
Flip cup. Your brother stood there, red cup in hand, cheeks flushed with booze and bravado. He was leaning too heavily on the table, laughing way too loud, clearly already drunk. And right next to him—Ellie.
Her sleeves were shoved up as she smacked the cup onto the edge of the table. Her tongue poked out between her teeth as she flipped it clean on the first try, laughing when your brother cursed and slammed his palm against the wood.
She looked alive there, hair messy, caught up in the heat of competition. Your brother swayed, his words slurred as he shouted something at Ellie, and she just giggled, shoulders shaking, eyes flashing green under the strobe as she glanced at you quickly, but not less piercing.
Dina followed your gaze, then leaned close, voice warm against your ear. “Ohhh. Somebody’s watching her girl.”
Rachel smirked, leaning on your other shoulder. “Correction: Ellie’s the one watching. You’re just giving her a show.”
The night blurred into sweat and bass and laughter, hours collapsing into each other. Dina had you twirling on the dance floor, Rachel stealing sips of every cup she could find and all the while your brother spiraled further into sloppy chaos.
He was gone—head tilted back in wild laughter, arm slung over some guy you didn’t know. Every now and then he’d glance your way, but his eyes were glassy, his grin loose, his focus lost in the haze of booze and noise. He wasn’t watching you anymore.
But Ellie was.
Even when she was shoulder to shoulder with his friends, even when she pretended to be caught up in their drinking games, her gaze cut through the crowd, landing on you again and again. She looked wrecked in the strobe lights—jaw tight, mouth pulled into something halfway between a smirk and a dare.
You let it ride for a while, feeding off the weight of her stare, pretending you didn’t feel it. But when the music shifted to something slower, you leaned into Dina’s ear.
“Bathroom,” you murmured.
She arched a brow. “Need me to guard the door?”
You shook your head, quick. “No—alone. Just for a minute.”
Rachel, overhearing, pouted dramatically, grabbing at your hand. “Abandoning us? Ruuuude.”
“I’ll be fast!” you promised, tugging free with a smile that didn’t quite mask the pulse in your throat.
And before they could press, you slipped away through the crush of bodies, past the kitchen, past the living room where your brother howled with laughter, oblivious.
You glanced over your shoulder just once, long enough to catch Ellie, still at the table, her eyes locking on yours as you moved down the hall.
You held her gaze, a silent invitation, before disappearing toward the bathroom.
The lock clicked behind you, the hum of the party muffled through the door. You leaned against the sink, breath coming too fast, palms braced against cool porcelain as you tried to steady yourself.
Five minutes. Enough time for anyone else to forget you’d slipped away. Enough time for her to notice. You told yourself not to hope, not to believe she’d actually follow, that maybe it was just your mind, conjuring the fantasy that this plan could finally work.
You stood there waiting, doubt pooling heavy in your chest.
And then—knock, knock. Sharp. Quick.
“Coming,” you called, your voice pitching higher than you meant, nerves betraying you.
You tugged the handle, half-prepared to meet an empty hallway, half-convinced you’d imagined it all.
Instead you opened the door into the solid wall of her, right there.
The sight of Ellie was a shock that cracked through you, as if you hadn’t dared believe she’d really come. Eyes dark, jaw set, she didn’t bother with words. Her hand found your waist, firm, and in the next breath she had you backed up hard against the tiled wall. The door slammed shut behind her, lock snapping.
Now it was just the two of you.
The bathroom felt smaller with her in it, the air thickening, her heat rolling off in waves. The scent of beer clung to her breath, cedar shampoo to her skin, dizzying. She pressed in close, her body caging yours against cold tile, her hands braced hard at your waist so you couldn’t move even if you’d wanted to.
“You think you’re slick, huh?” Her voice was rough, rasping right against your mouth.
Your lips curved, gloss already smudged. “Worked, didn’t it?”
A breathless laugh slipped from her—half disbelieving, half hungry. “You’ve been teasing me for years.”
You tilted your head, lips brushing hers like a dare. “Maybe I have.”
That was all it took. Her mouth crashed onto yours in a bruising kiss, teeth dragging your bottom lip, swallowing the gasp you gave. It was desperate, messy, years of tension collapsing into heat and tongue and want. Her hands roamed with no hesitation, sliding up your thighs, under your dress, thumbs digging into your hips like she meant to brand you there.
She pinned you higher against the wall, your dress riding up as porcelain and tile dug into the backs of your thighs. Her body pressed tight to yours, chest to chest, the air between you nothing but her warmth and the sting of cheap beer.
She leaned in, grin wicked, eyes dark and glazed with something that wasn’t just tipsy.
“Jesus,” she muttered against your mouth, kissing you again before you could answer. “You have any idea what you do to me?”
Your hand fisted in her shirt, pulling her closer, nails digging into her shoulders “Been wanting you to fuck me for years,” you whispered hot against her jaw, kissing down to the corner of her mouth.
Her breath stuttered, her laugh wrecked.
“My best friend’s lil’ sis, huh?” Another kiss, hard enough to steal your air. “This is wrong. You know it.”
Your lips brushed her ear, voice a rasp. “Then stop.”
She froze for a fraction of a heartbeat, just long enough for her eyes to flick to yours—dark, feral, undone—and her mouth crashed back onto yours, harder. The kiss stole your breath, her teeth grazing your lip before her tongue claimed the space between your mouths.
Her hands slid down, gripping your ass hard, fingers digging in. In the next second, she lifted you clean off the ground, setting you down against the sink, porcelain biting into the backs of your thighs.
“Could never stop,” she growled, fingers pressing harder.
The small bathroom shrank around you. Her body pressed tight between your knees, hand sliding higher, under the thin fabric of your dress, cupping you, making you gasp into her mouth.
Your hands were everywhere—threading through her short hair, tugging her closer, slipping under her shirt to feel hot skin, tracing the edge of that tattoo while she groaned into your mouth. She kissed you like she was drowning, like every second wasted was years lost.
Her fingers dragged your panties aside, finding you wet and desperate already, her breath hitching when she felt it.
“Fuck, you’re soaked—” you cut her off with another kiss, swallowing her gasp as she grinded against your knee like she couldn’t help it.
“Shut up and touch me,” you muttered, nails raking her back.
Her laugh broke rough against your lips, but her fingers pushed inside you in the next heartbeat, hot and fast, curling deep as you clenched around her. Your cry echoed off the bathroom tiles, swallowed by her mouth as she kissed you through it.
“Been dreaming of this,” she whispered against your lips, fucking you harder, faster, her free hand gripping the sink behind you for leverage. “Years, baby. Years.”
You clawed at her shirt, legs trembling in her grip, words tumbling out between frantic kisses. “Don’t—stop—Ellie—”
Ellie’s mouth was hot against yours, her fingers driving deeper, curling until your thighs trembled on either side of her. Her forehead pressed to yours, teeth catching your lip before her tongue soothed the sting.
“I won’t,” she rasped and then pulled her hand from between your legs. You barely had time to whine before she was dropping to her knees on the tile, dragging your dress up around your hips as if she’d been dying to do it for years.
“Ellie—” you gasped, but the word cut off in a cry when her tongue parted you, wet and starved. Her hands gripped your thighs hard, spreading you wider, nails biting your skin as she buried her mouth deeper.
You clutched the sink behind you, head tipping back against the mirror with a dull thud. “Fuck—fuck!”
She groaned against you, low and guttural, the sound vibrating straight through your core. Her tongue was relentless, licking into you, sucking your clit with the same fierce concentration she used to give those endless video games on your brother’s floor.
She pulled back just long enough to drag her mouth across your inner thigh, lips wet, smirk curling though her breath came ragged.
“Fuck, you taste even better than I thought,” she rasped, eyes glazed, jaw slick. “Been thinking about this for so fucking long.”
Your thighs trembled, fingers locked tight in her short hair. You stared down at her, chest heaving, unable to catch your breath. “This isn’t—this can’t be real—” The words tore out of you between gasps, half-moan, half-disbelief.
Ellie grinned against you. “Oh, it’s real, baby. You’re dripping all over my tongue.” She pressed in harder, mouthing at your clit, groaning like she couldn’t get enough. “Dreamt about it, fuck, yeah—but nothing ever came close.”
You whimpered, grinding against her mouth helplessly and yanking her head deeper between your thighs. “Ellie—Ellie, please—”
She only growled in return, dragging her tongue through your folds like she meant to ruin you, sucking you down until you were thrashing against the counter
Your head tipped back, eyes squeezing shut, knuckles white where you clutched the sink. You couldn’t stop the sounds spilling out, couldn’t stop the frantic chant of her name breaking from your throat. The sight of her burned itself into your mind, filthy and impossible.
When you came, it tore out of you sharp and fast, muffled against your own arm as you tried to hold back the scream. Ellie didn’t let up, licking you through it, swallowing every drop, her moans vibrating against your skin like she’d been starving for you all along.
She stood then, breathless, lips slick, eyes dark with want. She dragged you into another kiss, forcing you to taste yourself on her tongue, her hands already tugging a strap from the waistband of her jeans, the plastic glinting under the bathroom light.
Your eyes widened, pulse snapping into overdrive. “Ellie—holy shit—”
Her smirk was wicked, already pressing the strap against you, grinding just enough to make you gasp. “What?”
You barely had time to answer before she shoved your dress down, fabric tearing against her impatience until your tits spilled free. She groaned low, mouth wrapping around one nipple, sucking hard while her hand shoved the strap against your cunt.
“Jesus—” you cried, half in shock, half in want, nails scrambling at the mirror behind you for balance. “This—this is insane—”
Her laugh was muffled against your skin, tongue flicking over your nipple before she bit down gently, enough to make you jolt.
And then she pushed inside.
Your cry echoed sharp in the cramped bathroom, echoing off tile and mirror. The stretch tore through you, hot and overwhelming, and you couldn’t stop the broken “Oh my god—! spilling from your lips. Ellie’s grip on your hips was bruising, anchoring you in place as she drove into you, rough and desperate, the slap of skin against skin barely audible over the bass pounding through the walls.
Her mouth dragged back up, teeth scraping your jaw, words rasped against your ear. “Look at you—can’t believe I’m finally inside you. You take it so fucking good, baby.”
Your heel slipped, clattering to the tile floor, legs tightening around her waist instinctively, dragging her deeper, harder. She kissed you again, swallowing your gasps like she couldn’t bear to let anyone else hear them.
“Say it,” she demanded between kisses, voice jagged, her hand sliding up your throat, thumb pressing against your pulse. “Say you’ve wanted me too.”
“Ellie—fuck—always,” you cried, nails digging into her shoulders, tears stinging the corners of your eyes from how good it felt. “Always.”
Her smirk broke into a groan, hips pistoning faster, the strap hitting that perfect spot again and again until you shattered around her, clutching at her like you’d never let go. She bit into your shoulder, muffling her own ragged moan, body trembling with the force of it.
The bathroom felt too small to hold it—Ellie’s pace turned brutal, every thrust rattling the porcelain beneath you, the mirror behind your back fogging over from your ragged breaths. Her grip on your hips was iron, dragging you flush against her with every snap of her hips until you were nothing but nerve endings and need.
Her forehead pressed to yours, sweat dampening her locks, her green eyes blown frantic. “God, you feel—fuck, you feel unreal,” she choked, cutting herself off with a kiss so desperate it hurt, her tongue tangling with yours.
And then—knock, knock.
“Bathroom’s free?”
Your brother’s voice slurred through the door, drunk and oblivious.
You froze, your whole body seizing, panic jolting through you like a live wire. But Ellie didn’t stop. Her hips only slowed, grinding in deeper instead of pulling away, eyes gleaming with something reckless. She clapped a hand over your mouth, pressing your head back against the mirror with a quiet thud.
“Occupied, bro,” Ellie called, her voice casual like she wasn’t buried inside you, fucking you against the sink. She thrust once, deliberately, making your muffled moan vibrate against her palm. Her lips brushed your ear, smirk curling.
“Quiet.” she whispered, breath hot against your lobe.
"Ellie?" Your brother chuckled lazily through the door. “Where’s my sister? I can’t find the brat.”
Ellie’s smirk only widened, her hips rolling slow and deep, dragging the strap over that spot that made your thighs spasm around her waist.
“Me? Mmmm... Haven’t seen her,” she drawled, hand still clamped tight over your mouth as you whimpered under it. She met your frantic eyes, a flash of panic flickering in hers for just a heartbeat before she buried it under that cocky grin. “Maybe she’s… busy.”
You thrashed a little, nails clawing her shoulder, begging her with your eyes, but she just pressed her hand harder over your lips, grinding into you with a snap of her hips that knocked a choked sound out of you.
“Busy?” your brother repeated, like he was leaning on the door now, words slurring.
Ellie bit back a laugh, her voice steady.
“Yeah. With her friends, I meant.” Her tone was smooth as if nothing about the situation was wrong, even as her hips pressed forward again, making your muffled cry vibrate against her palm. Her smirk twisted as her eyes bored into yours, watching you fall apart silently beneath her. “Think I saw her in the kitchen last time.”
You felt your pulse hammering everywhere at once, the terror of being caught clashing with the unbearable heat of Ellie’s relentless thrusts.
There was a pause, long enough you thought you’d both be finished.
Then God finally had mercy for the sinners:
“Kay. I’ll… look for her in the kitchen.” His footsteps staggered away down the hall.
You ripped a muffled sob against Ellie’s hand, thighs trembling, every nerve fried. She waited until the footsteps faded, then peeled her palm away from your lips, only to shove her tongue into your mouth, swallowing the broken sounds spilling out of you.
“Fuck,” she hissed, rutting into you harder now, reckless, chasing the high of nearly being caught. “That was close, huh?”
Your breath came in sharp, desperate gasps, tears prickling your eyes as you clung to her. “Ellie—oh my god, I can’t believe—”
“Believe it,” she growled, teeth dragging along your jaw. “Your brother just asked me where you were,” She thrust hard, sharp, making you cry out. “And you’re still fucking taking it.”
The heat coiled too fast, too sharp, panic and arousal tangling until you broke again, your body convulsing around her as you came with a strangled sob. Ellie groaned loud against your neck, thrusting through it, voice raw and guttural in your ear.
Ellie never broke her gaze. She pushed into you one last time, slow and devastating, her mouth brushing your ear.
“Thaat's it. You did so good,” she whispered, lips curling against your skin.
By the time you both finally stilled, your thighs were trembling against the porcelain, your gloss smeared across her mouth. The music from the party pulsed through the walls like nothing in the world had shifted, even as everything between you had.
Ellie eased out, hands steadying you when your legs tried to give. She tugged her strap free, tucking it back into the waistband of her jeans like she’d done it a hundred times before. You gawked, dress still hiked high around your hips, tits still out, hair a mess.
“You always carry that thing around?” you hissed in disbelief, tugging your hem back down and the straps into place, trying to make yourself look remotely presentable.
Ellie’s dimples flashed as she zipped her fly. “Only ‘cause I knew this was gonna happen.”
Your jaw dropped. “You’re insane.”
She leaned in, kissed you quick and dirty, a press of lips that still tasted of you.
You shoved at her chest, whispering sharp. “Kitchen. Right now. Or we’re dead as fuck if he figures it out.”
Ellie only laughed under her breath, stealing one last kiss before pulling back, eyes glinting wicked. “So… you wanna make this a regular thing?”
Your face burned, heart hammering, but you still rolled your eyes, muttering, “Oh, you wanna be dead so bad.”
Her smirk only widened. Her hand slid down to smack your ass hard enough to make you jolt, a muffled yelp catching in your throat. Then she leaned back against the sink, giving you the nod to go first.
Separate exits. Five minutes apart.
You slipped out first, dress tugged back into place, pulse still thrumming like you’d run miles. The hallway spun with music and smoke, laughter from the living room spilling through the walls. By the time you reached the kitchen, you’d almost convinced yourself no one noticed. Almost.
Your brother was leaning against the counter, red-eyed and drunk as hell, a red cup dangling loosely in his hand. He squinted when he saw you. “Where the fuck were you?” he slurred, head lolling like he could barely keep it up.
You forced a smile, pulse still erratic. “Outside,” you said quickly, reaching for a bottle of beer on the counter just to keep your hands busy. “Went for air.”
He nodded, buying it instantly, attention already flicking back toward the table where someone was shouting about another round of flip cup. “Kay. Don’t disappear again.”
You exhaled, tension flooding out of your chest. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught movement—Ellie, slipping into the room behind you, shirt adjusted, casual as hell. She didn’t even look at you, just drifted toward the couch, shoulder to shoulder with your brother like nothing had happened at all.
You exhaled, forcing your breath steady as you slipped back into the current of bodies, the swell of music and laughter threatening to swallow you whole. You tried to blend in, but you didn’t make it three steps before Rachel and Dina materialized out of the crowd like hawks circling prey.
“Girl, where the fuck were you?!” Dina shrieked, voice slicing over the music as she clamped onto your wrist like she was dragging you into court. Her eyes were wide, as if you’d committed some unspeakable crime by slipping away.
Rachel blinked at you, her gaze sweeping slow from head to toe, taking in every detail—your flushed cheeks, your swollen lips, the way your hair was mussed in a way no amount of dancing could explain, the tremble of your legs, and the cling of your dress rumpled crooked on your hips. Her brows shot up, and then narrowed like she was lining up the pieces of a puzzle she hadn’t thought she’d ever get to solve.
Her jaw dropped, face lighting up with vindication. She smacked Dina’s arm so hard the other girl sputtered beer down her chin. “Oh my god. She fucked Ellie.”
Dina covered her mouth, laughing in disbelief, muffled behind her hand. “No. No way. Did you—”
“Shut up,” you groaned, dragging both hands up to cover your face, praying the floor would swallow you whole. But the heat blooming across your skin betrayed you instantly.
Rachel was already spinning in a delirious circle, her cup sloshing dangerously close to the carpet. “Bitch, I knew it! I knew it! You disappeared, she disappeared, and you come back looking like you just got out of a damn car wash—holy shit.”
Dina was still laughing, head shaking like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her voice was low but cutting, eyes glinting with mischief. “Your brother’s gonna kill her.”
Rachel clinked her cup against yours with a wicked little flourish, eyes gleaming. “Worth it though, huh?”
You didn’t answer—didn’t dare. You didn’t have to. Not when your body still hummed with the phantom echo of Ellie inside you, not with the taste of her still ghosting your tongue.
Across the room, you caught her. Ellie, leaning casual against the couch like she’d been there all night, a beer dangling from her fingers. But that carved, dangerous little curl of her lips was aimed straight at you.
A mark, a brand, like she owned the night, owned you, and owned the secret pulsing between you and your brother’s laughter.
Ellie didn't think she had feelings for you. Not in that sense at least. Why would she? She was certain you had other girls to flirt with. Truth was that— you were flirtatious in general, and Ellie had no game when it came to you. You were outside now, and all she could think about was digging through your dirty laundry to find herself that pair of panties that smelled like your musk, arousal and sweat.
It felt as if— if Ellie didn't find it soon, she'd go insane. She felt the shame curling hot in her chest as she rummaged through the clothes, all of them smelled so deliciously like you, then her fingers met the cotton of the fabric and she almost passed out right then and there.
She sat herself by the floor in the laundry room, just a minute of holding them— that's what she told herself but now as she held the fabric so close to her face— how could she not take a sniff? She brought it closer, closing her eyes and taking a slow whiff. The scent hit her hard and she almost got dizzy, “fuck.” She cussed under her breath as she clutched the pair of panties as if it was the only thing tethering her to reality. Before she realised, her hand slipped past the waist of her jeans and she rubbed her clit over her panties. She imagined it was you.
“Please, I'll be such a good girl for you, I'm not like your other girls— I swear.” Her hand worked down her sensitivity, the sticky wetness dampening the crotch of her underwear but that didn't matter to her. “I swear, just once chance, and I'll— gosh!— I'll prove it, I'll prove it I'm better.” Her fingers sneaked around the crotch of her panties, sinking in her slit until all she could see was the blurred edges of her vision, and the sight of you in her mind. “I'm different, I swear.” Her voice cracks as her fingers bury up to her knuckles in her cunt. Her chest heaved in uneven heavy breaths as she struggled to keep herself from screaming and cumming everywhere.
She took another whiff, and her back slipped against the wall as she melted like a puddle onto the laundry room’s floor. Her mouth opened, and a small “hnnnngh…” left her.
She pumped her fingers fast, hoping to have the best orgasm of her life but in the heat of the moment she didn't hear when the doorknob turned and you mumbled out in a tired voice, “I'm back home, Els.” You walked to the laundry room, “Els? Are you in here—?”
Your eyes widened when you saw her there on the ground with her face smothered in your used panties, her hand in her jeans and her eyes half lidded from pleasure. “You're amazing…” she rasped from her place on the ground.
You couldn't help the little smile that crept onto your cheeks, “if you wanted me so badly, Williams, you should've just said so.”
⋆⁺₊❅ who is definitely the team captain her senior year of high school
⋆⁺₊❅ plays left wing or general defense bc she would get bored if she was goalie
⋆⁺₊❅ got into hockey because Joel made her watch with him and she wanted to make him proud
⋆⁺₊❅ who started hockey at age 7 and has been a competitive little shit since
⋆⁺₊❅ absolutely sees her coach as a maternal figure and cries when she upsets her
⋆⁺₊❅ was absolutely ecstatic when her team added her to the team group chat since she kinda thought they all hated her despite not knowing her
⋆⁺₊❅ hockey made her more social and popular since she gained a bunch of friends :))
⋆⁺₊❅ who bragged to the whole team for a week that you were coming to their game the first time you attended
⋆⁺₊❅ who was also so anxious about playing bad when you came to watch that she cried when she got sent to the penalty box
⋆⁺₊❅ on the first day you started dating, gave you her jersey hoodie with her last name and number on it to stake her claim. it’s like a visible wedding ring in high school.
⋆⁺₊❅ all her teammates know your name by now since she never shuts up about you.
“guys….”
“yes, ellie, we know you miss your girlfriend.”
⋆⁺₊❅ after every game they win she’s like a golden retriever, coming up to you blabbing way too fast for you to understand,
"oh my god, babe did you see us?! we were so cool! the other guy thought i could steal the puck from him-"
despite being nonsense to you, you know it makes her happy so you listen and nod, eventually picking up on a few things
⋆⁺₊❅ who taught you to skate but now every time you guys go to a public skating session she heckles you and the children around
⋆⁺₊❅ draws on her hockey stick and puts stickers on it!!
⋆⁺₊❅ always needs a good luck kiss before every game 🩵
〤cw: weed, dry humping (who cheered) fingering, guns (not sexually), porn with plot, clothed sex
wc: 3.8k
Synopsis: Ellie and you have a strange relationship- You fix her guns, she brings you weed. But months have built up into tension between the two of you. Something more arises out of it...
Note: The tumblr text keeps acting weird so ignore how some of the words are like blown up for some reason...I have no idea how to fix this
Ellie wasn’t supposed to be hanging around you. Not really. Not because you were trouble—if anything, you were the opposite of trouble. Just… unnecessary. She could mod her own guns. She wasn’t helpless. But you? You were better. Better with guns. Better with fixing. Better with things she didn’t want to admit she cared about.
And maybe—fine—maybe there was a crush. Small. Manageable. Nothing worth confessing. Not like she ever imagined you. Not like that.
Your dad would lose his mind if he knew. Strict as hell. Didn’t matter, though—you carried his talent like a bad inheritance. He once fixed guns for scraps, traded with FEDRA soldiers and some half-dead rebels from Montana. You traded your work for weed. Ellie liked the upgrade.
The truth? Her Firestar didn’t need fixing. Not even close. The “jam” in the barrel? She shoved a pebble down there herself. A cheap excuse to watch you cradle the pistol, to watch your hands move across it like it mattered. The way you explained things, like the gun had secrets only you could translate—it got to her.
You smelled faintly metallic, like gun grease. But under that, something sweeter—like the body wash Dina swore you made yourself, sugar and strawberries gone too soft.
Ellie had to snap herself out of it before she knocked on your door. Showing up red-faced to the girl you wanted to impress—and maybe fuck if the world wasn’t so complicated—wasn’t a power move. She needed to look in control. She wanted you to see that side of her. But you didn’t.
Because you were shy. You flinched if she stared too long, like the weight of her eyes could bruise. A walking knot of nerves, all restless fingers and muttered tangents, turning screws and clicking parts that probably weren’t meant to be handled that way. Weed smoothed the edges, but then you just… talked. And talked.
Ellie liked your voice best when you didn’t realize how much you were giving away.
Ellie takes a breath that fogs in the cold before knocking. The garage is your kingdom—half workshop, half bedroom—like every other woman in Jackson who wants out but can’t quite cut free. She hears you shuffle before the door swings open.
You look… ridiculous. Fleece pajama pants stamped with Superman, a tank top that makes her throat tighten. Her eyes betray her first, flicking down to the lack of bra before she can stop herself. The intimacy of it hits harder than it should. Her own jacket and jeans are powdered with snow, reminding her how late it is.
“Hey.” Her voice catches, so she twists it into a wry smile. “Uh—my Starfire. It’s… not shooting.” She hates the name the second it leaves her mouth.
You squint at her, a rifle balanced half-taken-apart in your hands. “It’s freezing out. You drag yourself over here just for that?” Your voice is teasing, but the smile undercuts it—bright, unguarded. It makes her chest burn.
“Yeah. Favorite pistol, you know?” she says quickly, shifting the shoebox she’s been carrying like a peace offering. “Brought a pretty big jar.”
She pulls it out, the glass fogging with her breath. Loose, as always. She knows you like to roll it yourself. She knows too much about what you like.
“You know it’s… Firestar, right?” You arch a brow, opening the door wider. “Uh—can you dust yourself off? The woods are finicky this time of night.”
“Nah, it’s fine.” She mumbles, shrugging off her jacket and letting the snow fall off her sleeves. Your garage is… chaotic. A pile of clothes teeters in one corner, your bed is unmade, and blueprints plaster the walls like some obsessive shrine. Each one has sticky notes, and she finds herself smiling at the little annotations—it’s ridiculous, but endearing. Your dad collected these things before the apocalypse, and she half-wonders if a favor could ever be traded for one.
The workbench along the right wall is marginally more organized. A jar of screws, scattered gun parts, and old, rusted firearms tucked into plastic bins. She crouches, unconsciously careful not to touch anything.
“I’m working on Raven’s gun,” you say, gesturing to a half-dismantled rifle before noticing she’s still hovering awkwardly at the door. “She sawed off the front after a squib load. Gave herself a gnarly bruise.”
Ellie pushes the door shut behind her and kneels, peeling off her Converse.
“Squib load?”
“When a bullet doesn’t have enough force to leave the barrel, and then you fire again… boom. Barrel implodes.” You shrug, a little shy.
“Well… surprised Raven’s not dead,” Ellie says, picking up the box again.
She tries to act nonchalant…since her gun has the same problem.
You set the rifle down with a grin. “Raven doesn’t exactly bring enough to be first in line. So…” You lean over the workbench, opening the box. No chair. You don’t like sitting when you work. Your leg bounces, small rhythm, like you’re wired.
She watches. The way your fingers trace the metal, the flashlight tracing the barrel, the slight bend in your back—it’s magnetic. She perches on your bed, tucking her feet under her, eyes following the curve of your spine like she’s memorizing it. You can feel it.
“A pebble? How’d that get in here?” You turn, glare half-serious, half-teasing. She’s always bringing guns with dumb problems. A pebble. A loose trigger. Needs lubing, as she puts it.
“I dunno. Probably why it made that weird noise when I shot it,” she says, shrugging like it’s nothing. The calm in her tone sets your nerves on edge.
You raise a brow. “Do you know what obstructions in the barrel do?”
She smiles faintly, tilts her head. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“They make this thing implode. I just told you.”
Ellie shrugs again, almost coy. “I just wanted someone to smoke with.”
You sigh and start disassembling the gun. Slide back, click the slide lock open with a finger—so fast, so practiced it’s almost unconscious. Habit, maybe. But it’s intimate to watch. Every movement is exact, deliberate.
The spring comes out. You finagle the barrel free, hands moving like they own the metal.
“You’re lucky you pay for this stuff,” you murmur.
Ellie smirks, cocky, but beneath it her stomach twists. Sharp, needy, like she wants to press you down, to feel the control in a way that terrifies her.
“And I pay well,” she says, voice steady but quiet, almost a dare.
You jam the screwdriver into the barrel, wrist tendon flexing as the metal resists. Ellie’s breath hisses through her teeth.
A pebble clinks out of the barrel, hitting the workbench.
“There.” You point the barrel at her, casual, careless. But Ellie doesn’t flinch. She holds your gaze a beat too long, until your eyes flick up and away, restless. You turn back around.
“Thanks. It was bothering me.” She leans back on her hands, watching as you reassemble the Firestar, sliding pieces into place with that same meticulous touch. You tuck it neatly back in the box, leave it on the bench, and then come sit beside her.
She tilts her head, offering the jar and a bundle of neatly cut newspaper squares. A ritual.
You lay down a battered book for a surface. The way you roll is quiet, reverent, like it requires every bit of your focus. You pinch, pack, twist the paper tight, and hand the first one to Ellie. Then make one for yourself.
“I never get how you’re so good with this shit,” she says, eyes on you as she lights hers. The tip burns red, a soft glow in the dim. “I’m clumsy as fuck.”
“Mm. Clumsy as fuck,” you echo, dry smile tugging at your lips. “Says the girl who can shoot four hundred yards.” You lean closer, offering yours for flame.
Ellie pulls hers from her mouth, touches the fire to yours. Smoke rolls from her lips in a slow exhale, drifting between you.
“I guess I’m just good with my hands,” you murmur.
Ellie chews her lip, pulse thudding at her throat, before taking another small drag. She bets you are.
You smoke in silence for about fifteen minutes before she feels the need to fill the space. To…do something with the tension.
“I haven’t seen you much this week,” Ellie says, smoke curling from her nostrils. She leans back on your bed like she owns it, eyes dragging over you in slow detail, savoring the angles of your face, your hands, the quiet way you move.
“Tommy’s been collecting guns on patrol,” you reply, exhaling. “Most of them are junk—parts, scrap. But he found an AR-15 on a dead FEDRA soldier a couple towns over. Nice rifle. Smooth kickback, customizable, everything’s modular. He wants me to fix it. Trigger’s loose, magazine’s chipped—” You break to take a drag, words soft around the smoke.
Ellie raises a brow. “He doesn’t pass them off to big daddy anymore?” The teasing edge in her voice barely masks how carefully she’s listening. For Tommy to bypass your father meant something. “Guess that means he trusts you. A lot.”
You shrug, eyes slipping toward the workbench. “My dad wants to rest now, I think. Doesn’t want to be responsible for shit anymore.”
“Mm. He home?”
“Yeah.”
The single word hangs there. Ellie watches you through the smoke, the air between you suddenly tighter, smaller, like the walls are listening.
She looks like she’s turning something over in her head, chewing on it, before her fingers start drumming on the mattress. Then she sits up, sudden, and the shift makes the air feel jagged. It’s not smooth—Ellie can feel it. Not as clean as she wanted the moment to be.
“You… coming back to patrol soon?” she asks finally, slow. Her elbow props against the wall as she hovers closer to you. “I miss having someone who actually talks. Do you know how quiet Kaleb is?”
She exhales smoke right into your face, deliberate. Watches the way it coils, how it clings to the shadows along your cheekbones—reddening with heat you can’t quite hide.
“Well… I guess soon,” you say after a beat. “My dad wants me to stay home.”
Ellie cocks a brow. “You do everything he tells you?” Her voice is edged, teasing, but the challenge under it is sharp. “You’re old enough to stake your own wants.”
"Well not all of us can disrespect our father figures."
"Not all of us can be pussies."
This time, you get up. Blunt hanging from your lips, smoke curling around your face.
“I should finish Raven’s gun.” Your brow quirks as you glance at her. “And I’m not a pussy. I just respect my dad.” A shrug, casual, but the words have an edge. You lean over the bench, shoulders tensing as you work.
“I mean, guess you’re not.” Ellie grins, moving to stand behind you, Not before settling her blunt down on a tray you have. She peers over your shoulder. “Jesus. Her sawing skills suck.”
“Yeah… it’s sideways. I don’t usually fix anything sawed-off. Don’t like how they function. Uhm…” Your voice trails when she leans in closer, her breath brushing the edge of your hair.
“They…?”
“The aim gets off. The… the pellets don’t disperse the same.”
Ellie brushes your fingers like it’s nothing, casual enough to make you flinch. You yank your hand back, shrinking into yourself—pajama knees bent, eyes suddenly bright. “I would’ve thought guns just… shoot the same,” she says, but it’s softer than the sentence should be.
Silence settles, small and heavy. She stands behind you, close enough to study the slope of your spine under the thin tank, the way your hair curls at the nape. The garage smells of metal and smoke and something sweeter under your skin.
Slow as a dare, Ellie presses against you. Not hard—measured, like she’s testing whether you’ll let her. You freeze, cheeks burning. Your breathing quickens; your fingers go still on the workbench.
“You’re always so… tense.” She doesn’t move away when you blush. Instead she swallows, letting the words catch in the dim, then leans down until her lips are by your ear. Her breath ghosting gives you chills.
“Is this okay?” she asks, voice low. “Maybe you just need someone else to do the job for you.” Her hand drifts, deliberate, and lands on the small saw next to you. She nudges it into your palm—first taking the blunt out of your mouth so your hands are free.
Smoke curls between you as she puts the blunt out on the mat. She flicks her eyes over your face like she’s cataloguing what she can get away with. “Maybe you shouldn’t be handling this stuff when you’re faded,” she murmurs, the joke clipped and half-serious. “No windows in here.”
Her words hang there — warning, excuse, invitation — and you feel the garage shrink to the space between your chests. You don’t pull away this time. You don’t move.
“I… I’m not tense,” you lie, the words thin. You shouldn’t be at least.
Ellie inhales, then presses the flat of her palm to the back of your neck—just enough to curve you forward. The touch is small and steady, testing. You feel it in the hollow under your skull, a soft, deliberate pressure that makes your shoulders want to unspool.
“I thought you were with Dina,” you say, breathy, because that’s easier than answering what the closeness does to you.
“No.” She breathes out the denial like it’s nothing. “I’m not with anyone.” Her hips push forward a fraction—an experiment that reads like a question. Your fingers ball against the edge of the bench; the saw clatters, a tiny, metallic punctuation in the quiet.
“You take weed because you’re stressed…right?” she asks, voice calm enough to be dangerous.
“Yeah.” Your voice breaks on the last syllable.
Ellie leans in, arms bracketing the workbench so you’re pinned by warmth and the faint scent of cold air on her shirt. She doesn’t move like someone about to take. She moves like someone offering. “Are you… okay with that?” she asks, close to your ear. “The idea of someone else taking it for you—letting someone else carry it for a little while?”
The question hangs between your ribs. Your breath comes quicker. You don’t answer at once; you don’t need to. The silence answers for you—raw, small, and loud enough that both of you can hear it.
"You know. I thought Dina was kidding." She snorts softly. Silence breaking. "But.." Her hips nudge again. You twitch at the contact. The implication. "You really do smell like strawberries."
Your breath hitches, through your nose. She cant help the red that rises in her cheeks at the reaction, her eyes trail your side profile in the lamplight of your workbench. Your lashes flicker. Your lips are pressed together.
Her hand shifts up the curve of your spine. Lean fingers tracing, until she can push you down a little, moving hair away. Her hips push forward- You push back, your backside against her crotch. A noise arises out of her. A stuttered gasp.
The real thing is much better then anything her imagination can conjure. Its much realer then her hips against a pillow. Fuck, she's barely even touched you- and she can already feel the wet spot between her legs.
"You got so quiet." She mumbles. " Say something? Please?" She needs to hear your voice. To hear whatever words you usually spill.
"Ellie." your voice drones low. "Fuck....just.."
"Just...what? C'mon, your always so happy to use your words." She's bending you over now, one hand on the back of your neck. The other snakes down to grip your waist. Her hips roll forward, press against you.
Your breath hisses. She starts moving back and forth. Every press of her against you sends warmth to the center of your stomach. A moan burbles up in your throat.
"Fuck. Your so cute." She whispers, more to herself then you, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. Her mouth hangs a little open. The hand on your waist wanders up your side. Over your breast.
“Ellie…” you whine, voice thin against the mat of the bench. Your cheek is pressed to the wood and for a second you don’t move, just breathe. Her fingers hook the hem of your tank and, impatient, she lifts it up until your skin is bare to the lamp. You can feel the world tilt.
She tastes her thumb and drags it across your nipple, slow and assessing. The small noise you make is everything—an animal sound that trips something under her ribs. Her hips find yours again, rolling, just enough to watch the motion, to see you respond. You can’t stop the way your breasts bounce; she watches like she’s discovering how much power she has.
She rests her head against your shoulder, voice a breath in your ear. “Speak to me,” she murmurs. “Say something. Say my name.” Her words are a hand on the throttle. “Or—Christ—name parts of a gun. For me.” She pleads to you.
You choke a little laugh into the bench and try to obey, each syllable small and ragged. “I—I… magazine. Butt—handguard.” Your voice comes out thinner than you want.
“Your so good,” she answers, the compliment soft and fierce at once. “You’d do anything, right? If I keep going?” The tone is adoring and a little pathetic; it makes the ground under you go soft.
You manage more—trigger, muzzle, hammer—each word a rope you clutch at, half-prayer, half-plea. Your hands balled at the edge of the bench, knuckles whitening. The sound of your breathing fills the garage.
She lets the praise fold into a kiss at the hollow of your neck, her palm sliding to cup the side of your ribcage. It’s not rough; it’s deliberate, testing how far you’ll let her take you. You answer with another soft sound, and that seems to be enough.
Her hand traces your scars before slipping lower, sliding past your waistband. Heat blooms where her palm presses against your belly, her fingers hunting downward until they find the wet seeping through your panties. You jolt, a whimper ripping free when her thumb skims your clit through the fabric.
“You’re soaked,” she mutters, voice unsteady with awe. “Christ, you could oil a gun with this.” The joke is ugly, and she knows it, but it spills out anyway.
“Ellie… that’s—god—that’s awful,” you choke, voice shattering as her thumb circles harder. Your hips buck forward, thighs pressing tight as if you could cage the feeling, hold it in.
“Really? I think I saw you smile,” she teases, voice breaking into a husky coo, breath hot with need. Her hand slides back down—slow at first—then pushes inside your panties with sudden force. She pauses, savoring the first contact. Her finger runs through your slit, parting you, dragging slickness across skin. She traces the swell of your clit with almost clinical precision, like she’s trying to catalog every inch of you.
It’s unsettling in its devotion—like she wants to memorize the texture, the way you twitch beneath her. The garage hums with your breath, each sharp inhale ricocheting off concrete, each gasp betraying how hard her thumb presses down.
You keen, back bowing against the hard bench, wood biting into your front. The roughness of it is the only anchor when she eases a finger in. She works past the tight pull of resistance, slow but insistent, patient in a way that feels merciless. Inside you, she curls slightly, testing how you clench around her.
The rhythm builds—push, retreat, push again—until she’s burying herself to the knuckle. A low whine breaks out of you, sharper than you mean it to be. After a minute of that slow torment, you give in, voice cracking into the thick air:
“More…”
A second finger slips in. The stretch makes you jolt, sharp and helpless, as she eases you open. She moves slowly, not for your comfort, but so she can feel everything—every quiver, every pulse, every small resistance giving way. The shiver that climbs your spine doesn’t escape her; she drinks it in. She presses at your hip, nudging you forward until more of your body sprawls onto the workbench. Tools rattle and clatter, forgotten.
“So greedy,” she whispers, breath ragged against your ear. Her gaze drags lower, catching on the way your breasts press into the wood, how your lungs heave under her hand. She loves the fit of her fingers inside you, the way they claim space. Her other hand knots in your hair, pulling you back against her chest so she can see your face. She watches like an artist, catching every tremble of your lips, every scrunch of your brows, the frantic flutter of your lashes over wet eyes.
A whimper breaks from you, raw.
“God… I can’t believe you never—never tried this before, Ellie,” you stutter, choking on her name.
The sound undoes her. Her hips twitch forward like she can’t stop herself, and she buries her face in the crook of your neck, trying to muffle the needy noise that slips out. Then her hand leaves your hair, sliding under your jaw to hold your head up, to keep you open to her. Her fingers drive deeper, harder. The tremor that rolls through your body shakes against her grip, your palms clawing at the wood for purchase.
“I thought about it,” she breathes, voice splintering with want. “But you’re so shy. You know that, don’t you?” Her words tumble, unsteady, unraveling. “Always nervous, always moving. But look at you now—this is the longest I’ve ever seen you stay still. Just needed someone to pin you here, hm?”
Her voice pants hot in your ear. Your fists tighten. A choked cry tears out as the pressure crests. She pulls her fingers free only to circle your clit, drawing you through the sharp convulsions. Still, her hand keeps your jaw tilted, forcing you to meet her eyes while ecstasy flickers and breaks across your face.
You flinch when her warmth leaves your back, spine arching at the sudden absence. But she’s on you again in the next breath, tugging your shirt down with uncharacteristic care before hauling you against her on the bed. Her arm curls around you, anchoring you to her chest.
Your lungs burn, pulling air in raggedly, the silence heavy except for the thud of your pulse. She presses her lips to your temple, a mock-kiss, and then—
“How many guns d’you think that’s worth?” she mutters, smug and breathless.
You huff, half-laugh, half-groan. Probably none. Probably your dad’s gonna beat her ass tomorrow for the racket she stirred up tonight. But for now, she just holds you, grinning like the mess she left you in was worth every bruise she’ll take for it.
⊹₊⟡⋆ summary: aquarium date with your girlfriend ellie, but other women just can’t seem to keep their hands off your woman!
⊹₊⟡⋆ warnings: fluff, jealous reader, men or minors dni, cute moments, aquarium makeout…
𐙚 note | I’d really appreciate it if you would not only just like, but also reblog, comment & give me feedback. I take requests! thank you:))
you’re standing in the dimly lit jelly fish exhibit, hand in hand with your girlfriend, ellie.
it was an innocent, last minute date on a saturday evening. ellie had mentioned this particular aquarium for a while, her insta feed being full of aquatic animals. it was also a hot spot for couples.
and it never crossed your mind just how high the chance of home wreckers would be at this type of place.
you were glaring right at one. but she wasn’t staring at you, but at your oblivious girlfriend. ellie was busy counting the amount of baby jellyfish. ridiculous , but cute.
your hand pulled away from hers, but you quickly wrapped a protective arm around her bicep. the girl finally broke her aggressive staring, and her gaze landed on you. a snarl curled her lips, a smirk curved yours. she really thought she could waltz in here and try to hit on your girlfriend?
not gonna happen.
for the rest of the evening, the girl kept following you both. ellie never noticed, but she did send you a worried glance when you stayed glued to her hip.
though, your bladder couldn’t hold itself for the whole day, so you finally detached from your girlfriend.
“could we go to the washroom?” you held her hand, beckoning her to follow you. but she shook her head, to your dismay.
“i’ll wait for you at the fish exhibit. there’s this new type they brought in and it’s so colorful—”
you nodded, “okay, fine. you can go. i’ll meet you there.” ellie smiled, and quickly planted a soft kiss on your cheek, “thanks, babe.” she rubbed the exposed skin of your hip, a subtle gesture she always did in public to remind you of her love.
leaving her alone made you nervous. that girl was probably lurking around, sniffing for a taste of your girlfriend’s attention.
you hurried, finishing your duties in the washroom before rushing to find her again. the moment you arrived into the dark fish exhibit, you found ellie.
ellie was talking to someone. your chest filled with rage.
that stupid home wrecker!
you stormed over to them, eyes shooting daggers at the fake blonde.
“it’s so rare to find someone as cute as you nowadays..” you overheard that girl say. ellie was visibly shocked.
placing a warning hand on that girl’s shoulder, you shoved her off, “ellie, i found a spot perfect for a picture.” she relaxed when you took her hand, pulling her along with you towards another exhibit.
you noticed the look of envy on the girl’s face. looking at her up and down, you scrunched your nose before mouthing,
“fuck off.”
the blonde’s eyes widened.
when you entered another section of the aquarium, you relaxed. this room was empty and low-lit, the pink jellyfishes casting a romantic and cool ambiance.
ellie gasped, tugging you along to the glass. she gazed wide-eyed at the close jellyfishes drifting around the wall sized tank.
“this is the coolest room.” she gushed, squeezing your palm. you smiled as you stared at her. she always has this shine in her eyes whenever she explained her passions. you loved her. who couldn’t?
she peered at you, a toothy grin still curved on her face. when no words were exchanged, she chuckled, “thanks for saving me back there.”
you laughed. “i would do anything for you.”
“i know.” she pulled you into her arms, palm resting at the back of your head.
grinning, you let your hands come up to cup her cheeks. you got up on your tippy toes. she wrapped her arms around your waist.
“i love you, angel.” she mumbled before tilting your head back to meet your lips in a deep kiss. you sighed, wrapping your arms around her neck. she tasted divine. this was perfect.
but you heard footsteps.
opening your eyes, mid make-out, your gaze set on another woman staring at you.
“for fucks sake.” ellie whispered, glaring at the woman entering the room, pretending to look interested by the jellyfish. you rolled your eyes, deciding to speak up again.
“hey, woman!”
her head whipped towards you both.
you pointed towards ellie, “you want her?”
the woman wickedly smiled, already taking a few steps closer. she attempted to stare at her all doe-eyed.
ellie took a step back when she continued approaching.
you huffed. “well, too bad. she doesn’t want anything to do with you.” you turn around, wrap your arms around the auburnette’s neck, and slam your lips against hers.
you saw the woman freeze in the corner of your eye. soon, after you let out a moan, the sound of her footsteps leaving the room caused a smirk to form on your lips.
ellie whined into the kiss, hands roaming your bare skin.
her lashes brushed against your cheek, tickling, but also beckoning you to deepen the kiss. she was undeniably close, you could feel her warmth through the layers she wore. you tugged at her collar.
you whimpered when she pulled away a few centimeters, breath fanning your lips. “do you want me to stop?” she asked.
you hurriedly say, “no. the opposite of that, please.”
ellie raised a brow. “there’s people in the other room.”
a laugh escaped your lips, “oh, ellie. don’t be shy.”
a visible crimson hue crept on her cheeks, her bashfulness eliciting a gasp from you.
when you stayed silent, only intensively staring at her, she squirmed.
you giggled. “alright, we can continue this later at home.” she quirked up. “a-at home?”
“yes!” you said that a little too passionately.
taking her hand in yours, you urged her ahead to the next room.
ellie chuckled, “want me all to yourself?”
you paused in your steps, smirking.
“you already are.”
first work I publish on ellie on tumblr! I have a fanfic on wattpad linked on my profile:)
hope you enjoyed reading this🥰🥰 thank u soooo much for the support on my arcane fics and I’m so excited to start writing more for tlou!!❤️🙏
⤷ Nerd!Ellie who is a constant yapper. she's usually pretty quiet around most people, but you?! 25/8 this girls mouth is moving when shes around you.
⤷ Nerd!Ellie who is extremely awkward. stumbling over her own converse shoelaces and every syllable she utters.
⤷ Nerd!Ellie who hid her sketchbook from you for months because she was too nervous to show people her drawings. she goes bright red in the face anytime you bring it up to her.
⤷ Nerd!Ellie who goes to the library at the same time every week to read, study, work on assignments or even just get away from people for a few hours. its one of her favourite places.
⤷ Nerd!Ellie who accidentally left her journal with you when you studied together in the library one week and fully freaked out when you joked about reading it. ofcourse you would never actually do that, but she still had the most adorable mini heart attack ever at the thought of it. her most recent pages were probably her rambling on about the way you were looking at her in english class the day before.
⤷ Nerd!Ellie who played her guitar for you the first time you went to her house. you were both sat on her bed while she played 'Scott Street'. you hyped her up afterwards and she got all nervous and refused to believe how good you said she was.
⤷ Nerd!Ellie who, speaking of music, has her bedroom walls plastered in posters from her favourite artists and bands. she complains about them falling all of the time and blames it on the 'dodgy' blu-tack she used to hang them, but maybe its just her horrible poster-hanging skills. she tries to keep her large collection of vinyls and cds organised but always forgets to put them back on her shelf which results in her looking through all the tiny spaces in her crowded room for them. the thought of it makes you giggle and she rolls her eyes at you every time for laughing at her unorganisation.
⤷ Nerd!Ellie who almost died when you sent her a "you look cute rn" text from across the lab in chemistry one time. when she turned around you were pretending to be completely indulged in your notes, subtly smiling to yourself knowing what you had just done.
⤷ Nerd!Ellie who finally (accidentally) confessed her feelings to you during a bedroom study session while attempting to tutor you in algebra. you had been wearing a slightly revealing tank top due to the hot weather that day and you didn't hesitate to point her out when you caught her staring. she completely fumbled and eventually spat it out. you knew, i mean, she hadn't been very subtle about it at all.
turnnoffyourmind
baratheonpilled
areudirty
romaincrisis
snowghoul
