welostheplot

[welostheplot]

Hii dear, how are you doing?

I was thinking about the dynamic between Ellie with a taller girl, like 5’6 (this is my height, by the way). What do you think about it?

P.S. I really loved your streamer!Ellie

since ellie's only 5'5, there's not an extreme height difference between her and you at all :0 y'all are almost eye-level!

but fun fact: i'm a tall girl! 5'9 actually (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

so when i'm writing, i'm usually keeping that in mind and writing from that perspective haha. but here are some cute little headcannons for ellie x my lovely taller!readers out there:

── safe for work

she 100% stands on the curb while you’re on the street just to be closer to eye-level. subtly rises on her tip-toes whenever you're taking pictures next to each other. once tried to stuff the inside of her shoes to get some height on you on a day outing but it was so uncomfortable she had to spend the entire time fibbing to you about dealing with a really bad calf cramp. she thinks she’s being slick. she is absolutely not.

she insists on being big spoon. always. says it’s about 'principle.' “don’t care how long your fuckin’ legs are. i do the holding round here.” and you let her, even though her arm always ends up pinned under your back and she wakes up grumpy about it.

she’ll never admit it, but she lives for the days you wear her clothes. buys her shirts oversized so you'll be more inclined to wear them—baggy's more her style anyways. the shirts still kind of fall too short on you and she loves to see how the hem hangs a little over the curve of your ass. watches you pad around the house in just them and a pair of panties, tugging the fabric down every so often. swears under her breath like it’s a religious experience each time it happens.

when you’re both standing at the sink brushing your teeth, she’ll nudge you with her shoulder and glare when she doesn’t move you. “hogging the mirror, babe,” she mumbles around her toothbrush. but she’s smiling. always smiling around you.

she likes standing behind you when you cook. arms wrapped around your waist, chin tucked between your shoulder blades. says she’s “helping,” but mostly just wants to sneak bites and press lazy kisses that tickle the back of your neck.

she loves watching you change. like yeah she’s staring because you're fucking hot, but it’s also with a little awe in her expression. this quiet reverence. she still doesn’t know how she got you, but she’s not about to question it.

when you're sitting down and she's standing? her favorite. she’ll lean in to kiss you and do that thing where she's got one hand gripping your chin, holding your head in place. grins against your mouth. “finally not lookin’ up at you.”

── not safe for work

when you're in bed and she’s between your legs, she loves the way you can close around her like a cage. her head right between your thighs, arms hooked around them to hold you there, murmuring about how she can't get enough of you. her grip's so firm there's indents where her fingertips dig and when your legs bracket her face, squeezing as you near the edge, she just hums in assent and nuzzles into you even further.

she's obsessed with missionary. doesn't care if it's seen as vanilla. says it feels like it “evens the playing field” but mostly just wants to be in control while looking down at you. your height means she’s got something to conquer. when you're laid back, she’ll lean down, one hand around your throat, the other between your legs, breath shaky as she mutters, “look at you, all stretched out for me. fuckin’ perfect.”

she gets a little unhinged about the sight of you on your knees. half of the time, she's fucking your face with such vigor it's like she can't help herself. reveling in the sight of your face all messy with her slick. “look at you. my—oh shit—my fuckin' girl. all this, just for me, yeah?" the other half of the time, she's cupping your face like it’s made of porcelain, stroking her thumb across your lips and combing her fingers through your hair away from your face while you work.

aftercare is quieter. she goes a little shy sometimes. runs her fingers up and down your side while you're catching your breath. mutters shit like, “you okay?” but she’s really asking did i do good? did i take care of you? am i enough for you still?

and when you wrap her up in your arms after, tangling your longer legs together with her shorter ones, and kiss the crown of her head like she’s all yours? she melts. tries not to show it, but you feel the way her arms lock around your waist tighter.

this work is mine. please don’t repost, copy, or publish elsewhere without permission. thank you!

[welostheplot]

── little black dress

a one-shot about attempting to get over your ex, ellie williams, and ending up right back in her bed anyways (inspired by one direction's little black dress).

content: ellie williams x reader, modern au, exes to lovers, little bit of angst little bit of smut, hate sex (kinda), dom-ish!ellie, possessiveness, oral sex (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving)

word count: 2.6k

author's note: happy belated 15-year anniversary to one direction and cheers to all my directioner-to-raging-lesbian pipeline victims who celebrate! i got wine drunk yesterday on july 23 (one direction's birthday) and wrote this. while it's mostly inspired by little black dress, it's also largely inspired by my fuckass ex. enjoy!

"... and you know what else is fucking insane?” you say, pointing an aggressively accusatory finger at your best friend from across the room—drink sloshing in your glass. “i paid for her doordash. like, several times.”

your friend doesn’t even flinch. she’s heard this one before. multiple times.

“i'd be financially fuckin' down bad, eating cup noodles for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and i would still pay to have jersey mikes express delivered to her doorstep,” you continue, pacing now, barefoot in your kitchen with only one lash strip glued on and your outfit zipped halfway. “i think that counts as love. like real, sacrificial, biblical love.”

“you’re drunk,” she says, not looking up from her lip liner application. “and spiraling.”

“i am not spiraling,” you lie, sipping your vodka redbull with such aggressive force the glass clinks against your teeth. “i’m casually revisiting past traumas in a safe and healthy environment.”

“you’re doing the exact same drunk rant you did last weekend. word for word. only, last time, you recited her exact jersey mikes order. i tried it, by the way. it was mid”

you glare at her.

she sets down her lip gloss and stands, hands on her hips. “tonight is not about ellie fucking williams. we are not mourning. we are whoring.”

you burst into giggles, despite the statement not being that funny. maybe you were drunk.

“bitch, i'm not laughing. say it with me.”

your giggles peter out.

“say it.”

“…we’re not mourning, we’re whoring.”

“louder.”

“we’re not mourning, we’re whoring!”

“there she is,” she grins, passing you a shot of clear liquid in a tiny glass with the words 'jamaican me crazy' printed on it. “now put on your other lash, zip that dress, and let’s go get you laid.”

you down the shot with a hiss. “how much do you wanna bet someone will strap me despite meeting me for the first time tonight?"

"crossing my fingers for your sake."

you disappear into your room to finish getting ready. when you emerge, fully zipped into your little black dress—the one with the dangerously short hemline and strapless top that makes your tits look borderline illegal—your friend’s jaw drops.

“you look fucking hot."

you grin and squeal excitedly, clapping your hands. "i knooow!"

she fans herself dramatically. “if someone isn't fucking you tonight, i will."

“bitch, don't play. you know i'd eat your pussy if you just asked."

you both laugh and cheers your final drinks, grabbing your keys and rushing to meet the uber that had already been waiting outside for three minutes. settling into the leather seat of the air conditioned car, there's only one thing on your mind:

don’t think about ellie. don’t talk about ellie. definitely don’t fuck around and accidentally still be in love with ellie.

easy, right?

the bass hits before the door even swings shut behind you.

it’s all strobe lights and wall-to-wall sweat and bodies pressed together. the air smells like cheap tequila, mint vape juice, and desperation. you breathe it in like a lifeline.

your friend latches onto your wrist, already dancing before you’ve made it ten feet inside. “let's get fucking wasted,” she yells over the music, already moving to pull out one of the shooters you'd both shoved into your cleavage prior to arrival.

you nod, adjust the hem of your dress just to ruck it back up again to show some more skin, and then dive into the crowd with her.

the music pulses, low and dirty and you move like you’ve got something to prove.

somewhere between ke$ha and nicki minaj, a girl finds you.

masculine. tall. arms covered in ink. low-slung jeans and a lazy grin. you give her one look—slow, up and down—and that’s all it takes.

she’s at your side in seconds.

hands slide over your hips. you roll them back into her. her breath hitches.

perfect.

you let her touch you. let her lean in close and whisper something flirty in your ear that you're too buzzed to understand. you throw your head back and laugh like you’re finally unbothered.

like there's not an ellie williams sized hole in your chest anymore.

and then your phone buzzes in your hand.

my main bitch: she’s here. at the bar. saw her while getting drinks. my main bitch: do you want to leave???

you freeze for half a second and your blood runs cold.

then you look up—over the stranger’s shoulder, across the crowd—and there she is.

ellie fucking williams.

leaning against the bar, open button-up rolled at the sleeves, and beer in hand. eyes locked on you like she’s been staring for five minutes already.

her expression is unreadable. but her jaw’s tight and she's gripping the neck of the beer bottle so fiercely it might shatter.

you smirk.

you: nah. my main bitch hearted your message. my main bitch: PERIODDDD

then, deliberately, you guide the stranger’s hands lower. over your hips. your thighs. your ass.

song after song, you make a show of it. grinding. laughing. pretending to moan when the stranger presses you closer. as her mouth brushes your neck, your eyes flick toward the bar.

ellie's still there, still watching.

you spin. lock your arms around the stranger’s neck and sway closer to her, right into the perfect line of sight.

and that’s when ellie’s beer slams back onto the counter. you actually hear the noise of glass against wood over the heavy thumping music

you grin, breathless. “sorry,” you whisper to your dance partner. “need a drink.”

she tries to keep you there, pressing a lingering kiss just under your jaw. you smile through it, not stopping her.

because you know who’s watching.

after a wet, sucking kiss on your neck that would quickly turn into a hickey if you weren't careful, you peel yourself away and strut toward the bar, every step dripping in confidence you only half feel.

you’re not supposed to be the girl who begs anymore.

you’re the girl she comes crawling back to.

the bar is sticky and overcrowded. elbows jostle you as you slide in between a group of girls ordering green tea shots and two guys doing that gross elbow-lean-flirt thing on a server.

you don’t care. you’re glowing. flushed and smug and pleasantly buzzed.

you flag the bartender with a lazy hand and glance behind you, leaning on the edge of the bar top and waiting to feel her sidle up behind you.

you don’t have to wait long.

“seriously?”

her voice is sharp and low, right by your ear.

you don't flinch. you don’t even turn. just hum, amused.

“you're seriously gonna let some random fucking girl feel you up like that?” she asks again. she’s closer now—crowding you against the bar like she’s entitled to the space around your body.

you spin on your heel, casually, like you weren't literally waiting for her to arrive.

“ellie,” you say with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “long time no see.”

she looks pissed—jealousy and indignation fighting for control across her face. her gaze drops for a second—to your lips, your chest, your legs—before she forces herself to look back up.

“do you have to be so—”

“so what?” you interrupt, eyes wide. “so hot? unbothered? so not-giving-a-fuck-about-you-anymore?"

she scoffs. “you’re drunk.”

“and, clearly, you’re still in love with me,” you counter, voice sugar-sweet. “so i guess we all have our crosses to bear.”

the bartender hands you your drink and you turn back around, taking a long sip.

ellie doesn’t move. "you know i love that dress on you,” she mutters. “wore it for me?"

“nope. wore it to get fucked.”

“that why you let her touch you like that?”

you smile into your drink. “that’s the beauty of dumping me, ellie. i can do whatever i want. with whoever i want. wherever i want.”

you give her a mocking look of sympathy. "anyway,” you say. “enjoy your drink.”

and just like that, you step away.

you’re halfway to the bathroom later, having consumed two more drinks and a shot your friend had gotten some random old guy to buy for you two, when she finds you again.

the hallway is dim, quieter than the rest of the club. you catch your reflection in the mirror across from the bathroom door, lipgloss still mostly intact.

she’s behind you before you can blink. you see her in the mirror first—eyes practically glowing in the low light.

“couldn’t stay away, huh?” you say, not turning around.

“why her?” she rasps.

you raise an eyebrow. “she’s hot. into me and has only shown me attention the entire night. unlike the shit you loved to pull.”

ellie steps forward—too close—and you can feel the warmth radiating off her. “you let her put her hands all over you.”

“yup.”

“in my dress."

“yours?"

“and for what?"

you finally turn, slowly, a challenge in your gaze. “like i said, i wore it to get fucked."

ellie’s breath catches. her jaw tightens like she’s trying not to say something she’ll regret.

“jesus,” she mutters, backing you against the wall.

you tilt your head, goading her. “jealous?”

her laugh is breathless. bitter. “of course i fucking am."

you freeze. you didn't expect her to actually admit it so openly and, for once, you don’t have a comeback.

she steps in again, now barely inches from your face. “i saw you tonight, and i thought i could handle it. thought i could just ignore it, but then you were dancing with her and—shit. i wanted to fucking kill her for touching you like that."

“should’ve thought of that before you broke up with me,” you whisper, voice tight.

she groans, low and desperate. “you don’t get it.”

“actually, i do,” you snap suddenly. “i got it every night you didn’t show up for me. every text you left on read. every random girl you flirted with for fun. every time i begged you to just talk to me and you couldn’t be bothered. i got it, ellie. loud and fucking clear.”

she’s silent.

you can see it in her eyes now—the grief. the guilt.

and still—the want.

then she whispers, “you said you wore the dress to get fucked, right?"

you blink. once. twice. then nod, unsure.

"well at least let me be the one to fuck you."

and then it’s happening.

she grabs your waist, hard. you’re pulled flush against her and her mouth crashes into yours.

you kiss her back and it's messy. desperate. all teeth and hands and weeks of tension finally snapping like a rubber band.

her hands roam while your nails dig into her shoulders. her thigh slides between your legs and you gasp against her mouth, one hand flying to grip the back of her neck.

“you’re still mine,” she growls, voice wrecked. “tell me you’re not.”

“fuck you,” you whisper. “you don’t get to claim me.”

she grins, eyes dark. “then stop kissing me like you want me to.”

you yank her closer.

“i fucking hate you,” you say, and it’s so full of heat and ache that it barely sounds convincing.

she kisses you again. slower, this time. lingering. teeth dragging your bottom lip. a hand sliding up your bare thigh, pushing the hem of your dress up.

“let me make you hate me a little more,” she murmurs, voice hot and heavy against your mouth.

you don’t stop her when she takes your hand, tugging your dress hem down roughly in a fruitless attempt to cover you up.

you don’t stop her when she pulls you out the door of the club, straight into one of the overpriced taxis that camp out on nights like these for easy money.

you don't stop when she takes your phone, typing in your password—of course she remembers it—shooting off an apologetic text to your friend explaining that she'll zelle her for an uber home. she quietly flicks your ringer to vibrate only after the instant barrage of messages you receive back telling you to stay far away from that trifling cunt.

and you definitely don’t stop her when she kisses you into the old fabric of the backseat of the cab like she’s afraid you’ll vanish if she stops touching you.

when the taxi driver snaps his fingers to get your attention, motions to the familiar sight of ellie's apartment building outside the car, your dress is riding up indecently high, lip gloss smudged from where she bit you. you’re still panting, subtly.

you don't even make it past the front door before she’s on you.

you slam into the wall of her apartment, her mouth already on yours, hot and frantic. she’s pulling at the dress, dragging the hem up your thighs again, teeth grazing your jaw.

“tell me to stop,” she pants.

“don’t you fucking dare.”

her hands find your ass, squeeze hard. you gasp.

“you were fucking showing off in this thing,” she growls against your neck, kissing down it. “knew i’d be watching. knew exactly what you were doing.”

you laugh, a little dazed from her onslaught of kisses. “and you still fell for it.”

“i’d fall for you every time.” her voice cracks a little. the room spins as you try to ignore the heart wrenching tenderness in her voice. then the backs of your calves are hitting the edge of her bed.

the dress comes off in one swift motion and, of course, you’re not wearing a bra. her breath catches audibly.

“i've really fucking missed these, that's for sure,” she mutters, eyes glued to your chest.

you grin, cocky. squeeze your shoulders in and arch your back just a little more, putting on a show.

“fuckin' mine,” she murmurs, right before her mouth wraps around your nipple.

you whimper, threading your fingers into her hair and pulling as she moans. "shit. that's—ah. that feels so good."

her teeth graze, tongue soothing right after and you press firmly on the crown of her head, pushing her into you.

you're already so soaked your thighs are sticky by the time her hand slips down your stomach.

“you still like it when i do this?” she whispers, fingers sliding between your legs, dragging through your slick with quick flicks.

you can’t even answer. just nod, desperate, bucking your hips in time with the motion.

she slips two fingers in slowly and deliberately and groans like she’s the one being touched.

“fuuuck, baby,” she mutters. “so wet for me. thought you hated me?”

“i do,” you lie through your moan. "i really fucking do."

she pumps into you faster, curling just right. her thumb circles your clit lazily.

“then why’s your pussy so fucking needy for me, huh?”

you whimper. “ellie—”

“missed hearing that.” she kisses your cheek, your jaw, your shoulder. “missed you. missed this. missed how you fall apart for me.”

you’re gasping now, grinding down on her fingers. her palm’s flush against you, pressure just right...

then she pulls her fingers out—and taps them against your lips.

“suck.”

you do, instinctively and obediently. her eyes flutter shut.

“god, you’re gonna fucking kill me.”

she kisses you again, messier this time, licking into your mouth to taste for herself. her hand trails back down, this time her mouth following.

you immediately grab her hair when she drops between your legs. "ahhh— fuck. ellie!"

she doesn’t tease. her tongue is firm, practiced, and possessive.

your thighs tremble and your back arches so hard it cracks. you cry out, legs thrown over her shoulders, hands fisting the sheets. "saymyname," she mumbles into you. "say my fuckin' name, baby."

when you finally come, it’s like the two syllables have been practically strangled out of your throat. she licks your through it with long, thorough swipes of her tongue, humming her assent.

then kisses her way back up your body and flops beside you, chest heaving.

for a minute, neither of you speak.

then, quietly:

“…still hate me?”

you turn your head to look at her.

she looks stupidly hopeful.

you sigh, brushing messy auburn hair out of her face.

“ask me again in the morning.”

your phone buzzes again from somewhere on the floor:

my main bitch: at least tell me if you got strapped like you wanted 😩

this work is mine. please don’t repost, copy, or publish elsewhere without permission. thank you!

[welostheplot]

FINALLY We're getting Reader X Abby. Idc if I'm the minority here, I love Abby I'M WINNING

you know what, who cares what the 'minority' or 'majority' is here, love and love PROUDLY anon!!!!!

i'm actually excited to write more threshold!abby while ellie is gone (for now) so we're BOTH WINNING!!

[welostheplot]

vi girlies 🤝 ellie girlies

abby girlies 🤝 sevika girlies

[welostheplot]

── 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 ᨒ↟☾.࿔*:･ 𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐞 𝐢 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: vampire!ellie williams / werewolf!abby anderson / reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: with summer comes grief and mourning, but abby's presence offers an escape. your connection grows as the days pass, though you can't seem to shake the feeling that something's not right.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: descriptions of nightmares and depressive episodes

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3.1k

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: i'm sorry this chapter took so long to get posted... i've been enjoying my summer and also prioritizing pacing myself so i don't get too burnt out trying to push out chapters rapid-fire. that being said, writing content for threshold again felt soooo good. i missed my baby :')

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐄 𝐈 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍: "mail delivery failure"

YOU WISHED SOMETHING COULD'VE PREPARED YOU FOR THIS FEELING.

the first few days after ellie and the millers left felt like someone had scooped your insides out and left you walking around hollow.

it didn’t fully hit right away. at first, it just felt weird — like you’d gotten so used to looking for her that your brain hadn’t gotten the memo she was gone. you kept catching yourself swinging your knees while sitting at your stool in bio, looking for hers to nudge yours back. turning your head too quickly when tree branches knocked against your bedroom window. it was stupid. you knew it was stupid. but your body didn’t.

the actual ache set in slowly. a heavy sort of dread that settled in your chest and made everything feel off.

you didn’t tell anyone how bad it got. you couldn’t. so you started emailing dina — in hopes that maybe she'd relay your messages to ellie too, since apparently leaving town meant she couldn’t call or text either.

to: dmiller@me.com

subject: this fucking sucks.

dina, as time passes, every tick that goes by aches. it's the end of the school year and i can't even bring myself to be excited about summer break. can we just rewind to prom night, when everything still felt whole? i kept that picture of us, by the way. the one of us in the diner booth. never got to hang it up after the whole cat freakout, and i found it in my sweatpants pocket a couple days ago. felt like my heart got ripped out of my chest all over again. i cried like a fucking baby, naturally. but, in a way, im kind of glad it hurts. it sounds dumb, but the pain is sometimes my only reminder that she was real... that you all were... i miss you all. i miss her. more than you know. more than i can fathom.

her replies, although stoic and formal, made you smile sometimes. or at least feel something other than cold. they were never long, but you didn't mind. the important part was that she was still replying.

the dreams were the worst part.

at first, you couldn’t remember them — just woke up drenched in sweat with your sheets tangled around your legs and your heart racing like you’d been running for your life.

then came the nights where you could remember. fragments of ellie’s voice in the dark. animalistic roars. the sound of someone begging you to wake up.

the first time you shot up out of bed, uncontrollably crying, your dad was in the doorway within seconds, bleary-eyed and gripping his pistol. once he realized there was no threat — just you gasping and curled in on yourself — he dropped the gun (it hadn’t been loaded anyway) and sat at the edge of your bed, unsure what to say.

after that, it became routine. you’d wake up screaming. he’d appear. no questions, just a glass of water, a gentle hand rubbing your back, some clumsy, half-whispered joke about it being a "hell of a night."

you barely responded. you didn’t have the energy.

but he kept showing up.

and that simultaneously made you feel both better and worse. you hated how helpless he looked — like he didn’t know how to help his daughter, who used to hum off-key to herself while brushing her teeth and now hadn’t played music in weeks. like watching you hurt was doing something irreversible to him, too.

the guilt swallowed you. but it still didn’t motivate any change.

jackson kept moving without her.

and so, reluctantly, did you.

YOUR DAD HAD FINALLY MANAGED TO DRAG YOU OUT OF THE HOUSE.

you’d dodged two of your classic diner dates already, and this time, he didn’t take no for an answer.

the diner was the same as it always was. only now, the usually comforting ambiance felt stiff. your milkshake was sweating beside your untouched burger. you swirled your straw in the glass absently, watching the mix of chocolate and vanilla blur into a muted brown.

your dad watched you, chin propped in his hand, fork paused midair. “you’ve barely touched your food.”

you shrugged. “not hungry.”

"is this still an ellie thing, or—”

your jaw tightened. “drop it.”

he lifted his hands, surrender-style. “just checking.”

he frowned, the crease between his brows deepening like he was about to launch into a lecture. but instead, he let out a sigh and leaned back in the booth.

“you know,” he started, tone shifting to casual like he hadn’t been rehearsing it all morning, "the wlf kids are out on summer break too."

you didn't look up. "so?"

"so maybe you should drive out there. hang out with abby."

you scoffed. “what, like that’s gonna fix everything?”

“no one said anything about fixing,” he said. “but it’s summer. you're a teenager. you should be doing dumb shit and sneaking out and making memories that’ll embarrass you in ten years—not moping around and crying in your sleep.”

your throat tightened at that. you hated that he was right.

"i haven't talked to her since the going-away party."

"she'd still answer the door."

you stared at him, incredulous. "i can't just show up to the settlement like a depressed wet napkin and expect her to be willing to take that on."

“she was practically your sister growing up,” he countered, and you cringed at that. leave it to your dad to be oblivious to adolescent sapphic pining. “you two were attached at the hip. she used to make you laugh so hard you couldn’t breathe. remember that dumb sledding video we used to watch every christmas? the one where she flew straight into the mailbox?”

a reluctant twitch pulled at your mouth. “she chipped a tooth.”

“and you peed yourself laughing. yellow snow and all.”

you rolled your eyes. “gross.”

the silence stretched for a moment and, for the first time in a while, it wasn’t uncomfortable. you stared out the diner window at the parking lot, where the summer heat warped the air into shimmering waves.

“i’m just saying,” your dad continued, voice softer now. “you don’t have to be alone in this. and i hate seeing you like this, kid. i really do.”

you huffed, sliding your milkshake closer to you. “fine. maybe.”

his smile was immediate—awkward and overly hopeful. "really?”

“don’t make it weird,” you muttered, taking a sip of the beverage. “i said maybe.”

“got it. not weird.” he made finger guns. “totally chill. no expectations.”

you gave him a look. “oh my god.”

YOUR FINGERS HOVERED OVER THE KEY IN THE IGNITION.

you were parked outside your house, seatbelt already on. the sun cast a glare across the windshield, and the hot leather of your car seat was still stinging your thighs. everything was normal. as normal as it could be.

and yet—your stomach twisted. something was… off.

like someone was watching you.

you blinked, rubbed your eyes, then gripped the wheel. it was probably just lingering unease from the nightmare that had woken you up that morning.

still.

you swore—swore—you could hear ellie’s voice in your head, clear as if she were sitting shotgun.

you don’t have to go.

you gritted your teeth. "shut up,” you mumbled to yourself. were you genuinely going insane?

you cranked the ignition and shoved the car into gear before you could talk yourself out of it. ellie wasn’t here. she left and couldn't so much as text you. she didn’t get to have a say anymore.

the wlf settlement looked even prettier in the summer—grassy and sundrenched. wind chimes tinkled somewhere overhead. a german shepherd you didn’t recognize barked at your tires as you parked.

abby was sunbathing in a lawn chair on the front porch of one of the bigger houses, arms crossed, sunglasses perched in her braids.

you got out of the car and offered a small wave. “hey.”

“hey yourself,” she said, a little breathless, like the sight of you knocked something loose. “took you long enough.”

“you didn’t even know i was coming.”

she grinned. “doesn't mean i'm not always hoping.”

that earned the tiniest flicker of a smile from you.

she jerked her chin toward one of the settlement's many lush fields. “wanna play catch?”

you raised an eyebrow. “what are we, ten?”

“shut up. i’ve been practicing,” she said, already jogging toward a nearby crate. she tossed you a glove, then held up a baseball with exaggerated flair—muscles flexing in the process. had they gotten bigger since you’d last seen her? “…clearly,” you muttered.

"what was that?"

"nothing."

she flicked the ball into her own glove a couple times, warming her wrist up. “i figured your dad would be impressed if you came home talking about grounders and fly balls.”

you snorted. “my dad would cry tears of joy if even used the word fly ball correctly in a sentence.”

“exactly.” she winked. “come on. let me mold you into his dream daughter.”

you followed her to the makeshift diamond—little more than a patch of flat grass ringed by logs—and slipped on the glove. abby backed up, rolled her shoulders, and threw the ball with easy confidence. you caught it (barely), the sting echoing up your arm.

“holy shit, you're fucking strong."

“i told you. practice."

you tossed it back—awkward but passable. she caught it like it was nothing.

you were a handful of throws in when the word baseball started to itch at the back of your skull.

because the sport wasn’t just baseball anymore. it was the millers in a forest clearing, thunder cracking in the distance, ellie’s eyes bright under the stormy sky. dina's acrobatic pitches. riley making fun of everyone. you, caught in the middle of it all, laughing so hard your ribs hurt.

the next throw slipped through your fingers and hit the grass with a dull thud.

abby frowned. “you good?”

you wiped your palms on your jeans. “yeah. just—got distracted.”

abby didn’t throw the ball again. she just stood there, brow creased, arms stiff.

“they’re not here anymore,” she said after a second. her voice was low, but edged with something. “you don’t have to keep... dragging them around with you like ghosts.”

you looked up sharply.

she winced, like she hadn’t meant to say it like that.

you opened your mouth, then closed it again.

“i didn’t mean—” she started, reaching up to scratch the back of her neck with her ungloved hand. “i’m just saying… what they did already hurt you enough. you don't have to keep hanging onto it and hurting yourself more.”

“i’m not.”

“you are.”

you exhaled hard through your nose and walked toward her, picking up the dropped ball. “it’s not that simple.”

“i know,” she said quietly.

there was a beat of silence.

then, more gently, abby added, “i just want to be here for you."

you looked back at her. her face was open, earnest, a little raw.

“i didn’t come here to forget her,” you said.

“i know," she repeated.

you threw the ball again. she caught it.

SUMMER SETTLED INTO ITS RHYTHM.

and before you knew it, you and abby had become nearly inseparable. she made it her mission to distract you—dragging you out on hikes, teaching you how to fish even though you were terrible at it, letting you braid her hair during lazy afternoons spent sunbathing by the lake. you laughed more. you slept a little longer. the nightmares still came, sure, but waking up knowing you'd be spending the day with her made it bearable.

you didn’t talk about ellie.

not directly, at least. abby wasn’t exactly subtle about the way she dodged any conversation that even glanced at the millers. and maybe you let her get away with it. maybe you needed to avoid it all too.

but you still wrote to dina. nightly, sometimes. even though the replies had stopped.

at first, they came in slow. then, even slower. then nothing.

and now?

from: no-reply@me.com

subject: mail delivery failure

an error occured while trying to deliver the mail to the following recipients: dmiller@me.com

the first time you saw it, your chest caved in a little. the second time, you wept for over an hour. after that, you stopped crying. you just kept sending them anyway.

you didn’t know if dina ever saw them. if ellie did. if anyone did. but it was something. a tether. a way to keep from letting go completely.

sometimes they were rambling and desperate.

to: dmiller@me.com

subject: please

does she think about me? does she still want me? do i even still get to call her my girlfriend anymore?

other times, they were quieter. lonelier.

to: dmiller@me.com

subject: more nightmares

woke up screaming. again. dad stayed up with me even though he had an early shift. i told him i was fine. i lied. me and abby got milkshakes today at the diner. she always orders the flavor im craving without me saying anything. it's like she gets me. having company helps. she helps.

and then, sometimes, they turned confessional. the kind of honesty that was easier when you didn’t expect anyone to read it.

to: dmiller@me.com

subject: i think i’m starting to feel okay

i hate it. abby makes me feel things i didn’t think i could anymore. she’s solid and warm and when i'm with her, it's like i'm alive again. she looks at me like she wants to be the reason i forget. and it feels like betrayal. do you still want me to remember you?

none of them went through.

each one bounced back with the same cold, automatic message. and still, every night, you kept writing. because if you stopped, that might mean it was really over.

IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE JUST ANOTHER LAZY SUMMER DAY.

abby had proposed a drive—nothing too crazy, just cruising the winding mountain roads past the edge of the wlf territory. the windows were down, abby's hand fluttering through the wind like a fin, catching and slicing the breeze as the trees blurred past.

you were laughing at some offhanded joke she made about jackson’s obsession with putting mushrooms on everything when you rounded a bend and saw something odd.

“wait—” you leaned forward, squinting at the rocky cliffside that overlooked a stretch of shimmering blue water with crashing waves. a cluster of figures stood perched at the edge of the bluff, one of them definitely being owen. his silhouette was unmistakable. and next to him—manny, who owen promptly shoved clean off the side.

“what the fuck?” you slammed the brakes, the tires kicking up dust as the car jerked to a stop. twisting out of your seatbelt, you scrambled out of the vehicle.

abby didn’t flinch. just let out a slow sigh through her nose and got out too. “they’re fine.”

you were still stretching to see where manny had landed in the water below. “abby, i just watched someone die.”

“you watched owen and manny be idiots,” she said. “they’re cliff diving."

“abby,” you said, turning to her with wide eyes, “that drop is at least sixty feet. if someone slips or hits the wrong angle—”

she was already nodding, leaning back against the now-parked car. “i know. they like the adrenaline rush." her tone was flat.

“well, can they not get it in a normal, safer way? like from watching a fucking horror movie or shoplifting from the gas station or something?”

abby huffed a humorless laugh.

then, recognizing your genuine concern, moved to explain in a softer voice.

“usually people jump from the lower ledges. that spot’s stupid high—it’s just owen and his disciples showing off.”

disciples. you blinked. “that’s one way to put it.”

another cheer erupted as owen high-fived nora and pointed toward the edge. you could make out more faces now—ones that had become familiar over the course of the summer: leah, jordan, even mel was up there.

she gazed at them too, jaw tight. “it’s just—owen thinks he runs this place. and all of them—manny, mel, jordan, leah… they’re just following him around like fucking puppies. even nora. she used to call them ‘hall monitors on steroids.’ now look at her."

she motioned toward the cliff, where nora stood barefoot, peering at the choppy water below.

"and owen keeps... looking at me."

you bristled. "looking at your how?"

abby shrugged. "thought it was just ‘cause the guy still has a crush on me, but… it’s more than that. he doesn’t say anything. just watches. like he’s waiting for me or something. it’s kinda starting to freak me out.”

you grabbed her hand, gripping it tightly. "then stay away from them."

her gaze flicked down to your joined hands, then back up at you.

"i mean it," you said, voice firmer than usual. "they're being weird, so let them be. without you. i know what it's like to think you can handle people acting... off. you think you've got it all under control. until you don't. until something gets taken from you."

abby studied you, lips parted like she might say something. but instead, she nodded once—like she was filing your words away—and squeezed your hand.

"okay. i'll try." her thumb brushed the back of your hand soothingly. "this summer's been good. and i don't wanna mess it up."

you both sat in silence, the conversation weighing heavily on you.

then, nora stepped back from the edge, getting a running start before launching herself off the cliff with a howl.

your breath caught as she sliced through the air, arms tucked, body a blur of motion before she disappeared into the water below with barely a splash. it didn’t seem human. not the confident way she leaped. not the strength of her forward dive. and especially not the way she surfaced seconds later, laughing like she hadn’t just plummeted sixty feet into the ocean.

"jesus christ," you muttered.

abby just hummed noncommittally beside you.

this work is mine. please don’t repost, copy, or publish elsewhere without permission. thank you!

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @oneinameliann @taronyuhunter @tenebrisirae @stravvbwerry @panic4sage @valeisaslut @moonysheartbreak

[welostheplot]

keep us authors who choose not to use y/n in your thoughts and prayers please.

[welostheplot]

── stream sniped

a one-shot about streamer!ellie falling for a random influencer who wants nothing to do with her (except she actually does).

content: streamer!ellie x influencer!reader, modern au, strangers to lovers, ellie's down bad, so is reader you’re just better at hiding it, twitch chat/discord sever/titkok comment antics (that were a bitch to write ngl), MDNI 18+, fingering (r!receiving), oral sex (e!receiving), there's like a splash of meta during the smut that made me giggle when deciding to include it, reader described as having a clit

word count: 5.6k

author's note: so this is where i reveal myself as having quite a bit of knowledge about streaming/gaming/chronic online-ness in general. also, does this count as loser!ellie? am i part of the gang?! anyways, i hope you enjoy!

twitch.tv/smellie — LIVE: we're soooooo back 😤 !discord !drops

“alright, alright,” ellie muttered, dragging a hand down her face as she leaned toward her second monitor. “let’s do today’s discord submissions. i’ve been skipping out on them because you guys have been fucking weird lately, so... don’t make me regret this.”

her camera’s a little off-center—she obviously just rolled out of bed, the unmade sheets still visibly rumpled in the background, and her hair's clearly unbrushed beyond probably a haphazard comb through with her fingers.

ghostpeekr: !!!!!!!! tryqt: BE NICE ELLIE elliesdischarge: i just sent a pic of my cat meow for her rn whiffytiffany: is she playing with chat members for fortnite tonight???? elliethrows4me: dude make your bed.

ellie sighed, already regretting everything. “i never make my bed, you guys know this by now” she grumbled, clicking into her discord anyway. the #stream-submissions channel lit up immediately. “alright. what are we working with today…”

she scrolled through hundreds of chats, stopping at the ones with the most reactions. first up was a photo of someone’s dog.

she squinted. “this is your… dog?” it’s a tiny, wet-looking chihuahua wrapped in a blanket like a human baby.

“that’s—okay, listen, i’m sure she’s very sweet. but she looks like kind of like a maggot? why the fuck are her eyes doing that.”

lootsluttt: LMFAOOOO v4nitymirror: SHE’S MY BABY ellieclips: you’re the maggot-looking one actually. princessp3ach: UR GOING TO HELL

she kept scrolling.

“okay, next up—dinner pic. we’ve got noodles, veggies… chicken? that’s chicken, right?” she tilted her head. “yeah, okay. this looks gas. eight out of ten. presentation is questionable, but i’d eat it.”

nerfventure: W DINNER flick_n_trick: it’s pad thai dumbass ecam96: NOT U CALLING IT UGLY NotElliesAlt: u’d eat anything tho

ellie glanced at chat and snorted. “okay, but i’m a growing girl, i’ve got a big appetite!”

elliesdischarge: i got something you can eat message deleted by a moderator. dusty_diamond: RATE MY SETUP PLSSSS I JUST POSTED IT sandydunez: okay so where’s the growing part tho?

next post. it was a tiktok.

she paused. “okay, wait. is this gonna get me banned like the last time?”

the video started playing anyway. one of those dramatic thirst edits. saweetie’s my type blasted in the background, and a slideshow began: a list titled in giant capital letters:

“THE HOTTEST WOMEN ON THE PLANET — RANKED.”

ellie raised a brow. “mmmkay. hot women, my specialty. let’s see who made the cut.”

#5 was some instagram model. she nodded approvingly. “valid…”

#4 was a streamer she knew—kind of annoying in real life. she wrinkled her nose. “mid. there’s better streamers out there, you know. ones that might be on your screen. like…right now. i dunno, just saying.”

#3 was that girl from a CW show that everyone insisted was underrated.

#2 was a picture of asami from nickolodeon’s the legend of korra.

she looked at the camera. “okay, but, like…deadass, why am i not on here? this one’s not even a real person?”

leilaniiii: GIRL BE FR nonbinarybullets: 💀💀💀 elliesyumyum: ur like top 17 at best tima0911: not everything is about you smelly.

she flipped off the camera, a grin tugging at her mouth. “you guys have no taste.”

and then—#1.

the music swelled. the tiktok cut to a clip of you.

it was casual, not even a thirst trap—just you in a tank top and sweats, talking to your chat, laughing at something off screen. it was one of those clips where someone was effortlessly attractive without trying, and ellie immediately leaned closer to her screen.

she blinked. “who even is that?”

whiffytiffany: NO WAY mikuirl: THAT’S MOTHER maybemaddie: HER @ IS pastaluvrrr NotElliesAlt: ELLIE BE SERIOUS

ellie’s brows pulled together, genuinely confused. “i’ve literally never seen her in my life. also her user is literally pasta lover. i’m supposed to be impressed?”

usuallylurkin: L + RATIO + SHE'S HOTTER THAN U ellieclips: ur username is smellie btw paine_45: she's like famous famous slaystation_: SHE’S SO GFFFF

she waved a dismissive hand and clicked off the video.

“never heard of her,” she muttered, already loading up fortnite. “anyways. queueing up squads. if you stream snipe and don’t let me win, you’re getting banned.”

it took approximately four hours.

four hours between ellie squinting at your face on stream and someone from her chat catching her lurking in your comment section.

the tiktok in question wasn’t even that serious. you’d filmed yourself in your bathroom mirror, hair half up, wearing one of those off-the-shoulder baggy t-shirts, mouthing along to some audio.

and right there, in the comments section, was ellie’s account:

@ smellie: “wait she’s kinda bad tho”

of course, one of her viewers immediately took a screenshot before ellie even had the chance to delete it. not that she would’ve. but still.

by midnight, the screenshot had already gone viral.

a photo post popped up on for you pages everywhere, featuring a zoomed-in screenshot of the comment with saweetie playing again in the background (naturally). the caption read:

“i think ellie figured out who she was.”

it had 70k likes within the hour.

and, of course—you reposted it.

the comments on the post immediately flooded with:

“OMG SHE REPOSTED” “not ellie switching up so fast” “ellie back up SHE’S MINE”

meanwhile, ellie’s discord exploded.

#general was moving so fast, the mods were genuinely worried:

smelly mod #7: sooooo @ smellie we saw the tiktok 😭

within minutes, ellie herself was typing.

smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: GUYS chill out omg smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: you’re literally blowing my street cred smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: also there was NOTHING wrong with what i said. she’s fine asf. i was simply making an observation

naturally, no one let her breathe.

ashieee: street cred????? wizard bupple: what streets u live in wyoming cuh ellie's gf #real #actually: remember when u didn’t know or care who she was

ellie attempted damage control.

smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: okay FIRST OF ALL, wyoming can get scrappy. i have plenty of cred. smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: and SECOND OF ALL. y’all clipped me out of context smelly mod #2: you literally said “who even is that” allyson.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱: in 4k babe. we got u in 4k

at some point, she just gave up.

smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: i hate all of you smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: ok but if someone made very hot, sexy romantical edits of us tg i’d probably hate you a little less smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: #otp?! 🥺

smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: new drop just landed. ur welcome 😎 tiktok.com/smellie

it was… a thirst trap.

or her version of one, which meant it was shot in her kitchen with bad lighting and camera half-tilted, lip-syncing to some dumb audio while wearing a backwards hat.

before her regulars could even start roasting her for it, someone had already forwarded the message from #announcements to #general with a reply:

pastalover: nobody’s watching ts 🤣

the server went feral.

laffey ʚɞ: HELLO???? marisol (she/they): EXCUSE ME??? ellie's shift key: you mean to tell me she has been here the whole time??? smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: YOU’RE IN HERE??????

ellie immediately direct messaged you.

smellie: you’ve been lurking like a freak smellie: you didn’t even say hi smellie: and THAT’S what you break the silence with??? pastalover: be grateful i even watched it enough to know it was cringe

and then, a day later, you went live.

a rare event. your streams weren’t regular—more like when you were bored and felt cute. your overlay was minimal. just chat, a little corner cam, and non-copyrighted lofi in the background.

you were doing a get ready with me stream, mid-eyeliner, when you glanced over at chat and smirked.

"yes, i saw ellie’s most recent tiktok. yes, i wish i hadn’t.” you said, voice lazy with disinterest. “she’s, like, obsessed with me.”

topnoodle44: MY OLD MARRIED COUPLE 🥰 0ping: BE SERIOUS ellieuseslightmode: ellie’s gonna faint altaccnumber26: she’s in chat rn btw iclutchforpastalover: she’s BEEN in chat

you paused.

“oh.” you looked at the camera with a raised brow. “she’s here? figures.”

ellie’s username popped up in chat two seconds later.

smellie: looking so good bestie 😳 smellie: drop the lip combo smellie: or come here and kiss me so i can try it on smellie: wait who said that-

you rolled your eyes. “i use a revlon lip liner in the shade mauve and then the elf lip oil in the shade jam session. not that these words would mean anything to you.”

smellie: blah blah blah. proper name, place name, backstory stuff.

you scoffed. “you’re unserious.”

mikuirl: just admit you kinda like her flirting maybemaddie: WAIT I LOVE THE ELF LIP OILS WE’RE SO TWINNINGGGG NotElliesAlt: ellie barely remembers chapstick LMAO chousey203: i can’t tell if you curve her bc you hate her or bc you like her

“actually, i’m doing a public service. her ego needs balance.”

smellie: my ego’s doing fine. it’s my heart that’s in danger.

laughing, you leaned into the camera. “see? she’s like… weirdly committed to the bit.”

smellie: this isn’t a bit 🧍‍♂️

you stared at the chat, deadpan. “sooo, yeah. back to the tutorial. mods, can someone time ellie out for 300 seconds.”

smellie: WTF message deleted by a moderator.

the entire interaction was timestamped, clipped, and in about 15 different tiktoks within minutes.

twitch.tv/smellie — LIVE: carrying @ pastaluvrrr in fortnite

“okay,” ellie said confidently, leaning so excitedly forward into her mic her voice came out slightly fuzzy and bass-boosted, “fortnite is all about communication. precision. teamwork. and—most importantly—aura. follow my lead, you’ll be fine.”

“don’t you literally die first in every match?” you replied, sipping your drink without looking at the screen.

ellie scoffed. “i—okay, first of all, that’s slander. second of all, my KD ratio is… hold on…”

there was a pause as she scrambled to look it up.

“…okay, next topic” she mumbled after a beat. “ready up for me.”

ecam96: girl she gagged u elliesdischarge: ur trash but ur hot so it’s fine jmattsz: you’re both gonna get clapped in 2 minutes besosss: SHE SAID FOLLOW HER LEAD 😭

“wait,” you said as you readied up, “how do i do the little dance?”

ellie gasped. “oh my god. you don’t have any emotes.”

“i don’t play this game!”

“yeah, no kidding,” she muttered. “hold on. i’m gonna flex real quick.”

your screen suddenly showed her character cycling through a ridiculous line-up of skins—spider-man, ariana grande, peely in a tuxedo.

“i cannot believe you spend real life money on this shit,” you said flatly.

“hey! some of them are gifted, okay?”

“your chat literally hates you, babe. who is gifting you anything?”

“HEY.”

slaystation_: did i just hear "babe" 👀👀👀 macetotheface: she’s negging her ON STREAM ellieclips: ellie FIGHT BACK.

the game loaded in and she yelled at you to thank the bus driver like you had any idea how to do that or what she even meant. she picked some obscure landing spot and said “trust me” like she hadn’t already proven herself deeply untrustworthy.

you landed. broke open a chest. got a shotgun.

then immediately got shot in the back.

“oh my god,” you groaned. “ellie. help.”

ellie was halfway across the town, looting.

“you’re downed already?! hang on, hang on,” she said. “i’m coming. hey, don’t crawl away—wait.”

her character—bruno mars, she’d finally settled on—stood over you uselessly as the timer for the revive slowly ticked down.

“what are you waiting for, get me!”

“say please.”

“the fuck?”

“say 'pretty please with a cherry on top my most gracious streamer and fortnite carry god, ellie.'”

a beat.

you rolled your eyes, then smirked at the camera, clearing your throat and lilting breathily into your mic, “puhleeease, ellie?”

ellie stopped moving entirely, the tips of her ears going red in her grainy facecam. her character continued to stand there, unmoving.

“hello?” you prompted. “ellie?”

“sorry,” she said quickly, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears. “uhhhh.. got distracted by something.”

v4nitymirror: KEEP IT TOGETHER. looten_scooten: ellie.exe has stopped working elliethrows4me: she’s in love ur honor

she revived you with shaking hands and zero cover, getting absolutely lit up right after by a sniper.

“WHY DID YOU MAKE ME SAY THAT IF YOU WERE JUST GONNA DIE?”

“i panicked!!”

you cackled as the enemy finished her off, her reboot card popping up with all her loot (a grey pistol and a fishing pole).

and then—something strange happened.

as you ran to hide behind a tree, fully expecting to die immediately, two other players—clearly stream snipers—ran up to you. instead of killing you, they dropped guns. medkits. ammo. one of them started building a small base around your body like a protective little guard dog.

“ummm,” you said slowly, “are these… fans? what’s happening here”

“what the hell?” ellie said from the death screen. “they literally murdered me and are now… escorting you?”

one of the players' characters emoted and blew a kiss to you.

you laughed so hard you snorted a little. “babe. i think i have a fan club.”

“this is fuckin’ rigged,” ellie muttered. “i die first and you get princess treatment?”

you turned your character in a circle, doing a default dance in return for their affection.

“okay,” she said, “they’re banned. all of them. from chat. for life.”

boostedbytenshi: THEY’RE PROTECTING HER 😭😭😭 ayayayaim: reveal yourselves in chat this is too funny elliebutinallcaps: jealous!ellie i fear sandydunez: actual carrying. ellie could never.

you made it to the top five before your guards were finally overwhelmed and killed. you screamed as you got sniped out of a bush.

“so close,” you groaned, slumping back in your chair.

ellie sounded smug. “see? told you you needed me.”

you raised a brow. “i outlived you by, like, eight minutes.”

“semantics.”

twitch.tv/smellie — LIVE: IRL OVERCOOKED w/ baeee (pastaluvrrr)

ellie’s kitchen wasn’t exactly equipped for a baking stream. one of the cameras was actually just her laptop with a built-in cam propped up on a couple of books, the $19.99 two-pack of cheap amazon microphones left much to be desired, and someone—ellie—had forgotten to actually buy half the ingredients before you flew in.

nevertheless, the chat was buzzing at the concept of seeing you and ellie actually interacting together, in-person.

“okay,” ellie said, clapping flour-covered hands together despite the recipe not even calling for flour, “welcome to my kitchen. today we’re making… brownies.”

“from a box,” you added.

“from the heart,” she corrected, nudging your hip with hers.

NotElliesAlt: “brownies” is code for sesbian lex isn’t it usuallylurkin: HELLO? THAT HIP BUMP elliesyumyum: when are y’all just gonna make out

you glanced at the recipe on the back of the box and back at the counter.

“you didn’t preheat the oven.”

“i—” ellie looked down. “i forgot.”

“ellie.”

“i got distracted.”

“by what?”

she looked at you. you stared back.

chat was going a mile a minute despite being on slow-mode.

“riiiiight,” you said slowly, turning to grab a mixing bowl like your pulse wasn’t suddenly doing backflips. “anyways. dry ingredients.”

ellie poured in the bagged mix way too fast, a cloud of dust puffing out from the bowl making you both cough.

"careful, ellie."

she laughed, leaning in to read chat, her face taking up half of the camera.

"holy jumpscare, could you get any closer?"

ellieuseslightmode: back up WE'RE SCARED topnoodle44: where are her sweats from theyre so cute :00 elliethrows4me: can we start a prediction on whether or not they'll burn the brownies

she just laughed, her eyes continuing to skim through the messages. "where are the sweats from?" she leaned back, moving to tug on the waistband of the pants you were wearing, "these are actually from my highschool, funny enough."

you pressed your lips together in a thin line, giving her a look. you hadn't exactly planned on letting chat know you were wearing her clothes and they were about to have a field day with the information.

there was a pause. then she cleared her throat, turned back to the camera, and grinned, "and my shorts are from nike!"

"alright. moving on. can we actually bake now?" you opened a cabinet, scanned it. “where are the chocolate chips?”

“should be in the pantry.”

you walked over and gave the pantry a brief glance-over. not there. “can’t find it.”

“lemme help,” ellie said.

she followed you off-camera, into the pantry.

which would’ve been fine.

except you were really close in there. the shelves were shallow, the door was half-closed, and neither of you had thought to flip the switch outside that turned the lightbulb on.

“what are we looking for again?” she asked, a rustle of plastic punctuating her words.

“chocolate chips. i literally said that ten seconds ago.”

you glanced up as she pushed further into the pantry beside you, her shoulder bumping yours. she didn’t move.

“you found them yet?” she asked, not really looking at the shelves anymore.

“no,” you said, quieter than you meant to.

she turned her head. now she was looking at you.

you swallowed. “getting distracted again?”

her lips quirked into a small smile. “yeah.”

you nodded. "me too."

and then she kissed you.

it was sudden—soft and unsurprisingly clumsy, her hand brushing your waist as her other arm bumped into the baking powder and nearly knocked it off the shelf. your back hit the wall with a dull thud as she licked into your mouth.

and your clipped-on microphones were definitely still recording everything.

NotElliesAlt: HELLO??? tima0911: WHAT AM I HEARING RN tryqt: LIPS. ARE. SMACKING. elliesdischarge: holy makeout elliebutinallcaps: THE MICS ARE ON YOU IDIOTS

when you came back into frame, cheeks flushed and mouth definitely more swollen than it had been before, ellie trailed behind you with the chocolate chips in hand and the cockiest little smirk on her face.

you avoided eye contact with the camera.

“soooooo,” you said, voice slightly higher than usual, “we found them!”

“yep,” ellie said casually, “took some digging. but we got there.”

v4nitymirror: TOOK SOME DIGGING IS CRAZY jmattsz: i can't believe i said i'd gift 20 subs when they finally hooked up and it actually happened on stream.

you coughed. “oven’s ready.”

you leaned over the sink, dabbing at the last of your eyeliner smudge with a cotton round. your reflection stared back—cheeks still hot, lips a little too swollen.

behind you, ellie was half-sprawled across the bed, scrolling idly on her phone.

“you always take this long to wash your face?” her voice was soft. teasing, but not unkind.

you met her eyes in the mirror. “yes. i've made multiple tiktoks about my routine. and i know you've watched all of them.”

she laughed and didn’t deny it. just rolled over onto her back, one arm slung behind her head. “will you do some skincare on me?"

you flicked the faucet off and reached for a towel. “what am i, your servant?"

“you’re sleeping in my bed,” she pointed out, lazily. "you ought to be nice to me."

you turned, towel pressed to your chin. “you invited me.”

“i did,” she agreed. the look she gave you was unmistakable—open, fond, a little reverent.

you padded over and tossed the towel onto your overnight bag. the air between you crackled. ellie’s gaze tracked you the entire way.

she scooted over. you climbed in beside her.

there was a pause. your shoulder brushed hers. then, her fingers found your wrist under the covers, a gentle tap like a question.

you turned to face her. “you gonna be annoying if i kiss you again?”

her smile was slow and stupid and something close to relieved. “probably.”

you kissed her anyway.

this one lasted longer. and the next, even longer. not rushed, not frantic—just deliberate. exploratory. like neither of you were in a hurry now that the door had been opened.

her hand found your thigh. your knee nudged between hers.

she pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against yours. voice low, barely more than a breath: “i really like you.”

you blinked. something in your chest cracked open.

“yeah?” you whispered.

she nodded, eyes searching yours. “yeah. like… not just for streams or clips or whatever. i mean it.”

you smiled, soft and crooked. “good,” you said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. then to her jaw. “'cause i kinda really like you too," you muttered, continuing to press wet, open-mouthed kisses down her neck.

she let herself sink back into the pillows as you shifted to straddle her, hands coming up to rest on your waist. "t-that's.... that's good. perfect. ideal, honestlaaah fuck—" the grip she had on your hipbones grew tighter as you sucked at a particularly sensitive spot on her collarbone.

"you've got such a way with words, smellie."

"fuck off," she breathed out. "don't bring up stream shit when you're in bed with me."

"whatcha gonna do about it?"

she grunted, sliding one of her hands in between both of you to wiggle it underneath your sleep shorts. you gasped, feeling her fingers press up against the wet cotton of your underwear. "that. i'm gonna do that."

you reached down to grip her wrist and re-direct her hand so she was actually touching you beneath the fabric, "well, do a little more."

she groaned, her fingers sliding through the slick that met her there. "fuuuck, that's hot. guiding my hands 'n shit."

you huffed out a laugh that melded into a moan as her fingers fell into a quick pace, tight circles on your clit. "why are you— oh shit justlikethatyeah.." you gulped in a breath before continuing, "why are you fuckin' narrating our hookup right now?"

the angle was a little awkward and she could feel something in her wrist clicking with every swirl of her fingers but she would rather keel over and croak than stop right now.

the pain was irrelevant. especially when you were sitting up slightly to slide your t-shirt up and off and grab desperately at your own tits, manicured thumbs flicking nipples gone taut from the sudden temperature change.

and when you whined out a "fuuuck, ellie!" all tight and wiry and even better than she'd imagined on countless nights alone in that same bed with her hands shoved beneath her boxers, she couldn't help but nuzzle her head clumsily at your chest, nudging your hand away from your right breast with her forehead so she could replace your tugging fingers with her mouth.

your hips jerked forward and the now-free hand latched onto her shoulder for balance as you cried out, her lips pulling and teeth nicking just slightly before she soothed the peak with soft laps of her tongue.

"you like 'em played with, huh?" you could feel the vibration of her mumbling against the flesh of your boob.

"stop fucking talking, ellie. this is sex, not one of those slutty fanfictions people have been writing about us." you punctuated your words with fast firm rolls of your hips, now grinding your puffy clit into her palm as she fucked two long fingers steadily into you.

"yeah, well there's gonna be a whole lot more of those after that little stunt we pulled on stream earlier."

"i thought you said no stream talk in bed— ohhh, oh god. shit— fuck, 'm close."

"yeah? you gonna cum for me?" she was panting, damp puffs of air against your nipple interrupted occasionally by a haphazard suck or nibble. her wrist—aching by now—swiveled as her began to curl her fingers inside of you with purpose, the heel of her hand rubbing firmly against you.

"keep goin'— fuck keep talkin' to me. please don't stop."

"thought you wanted me to shut up? thought you said this wasn't some smutty one-shot, huh?"

the hand gripping her shoulder slid around to the base of her neck. you grabbed purchase on the short hairs there, tugging as she whimpered into you. "ellie if you don't talk me through it right now i sweartogod—"

"alright, alright! i gotcha, baby. cum for me. thaaaaat's it."

a loud moan punched out of you. “shit—fuck— 'm cumming.” your other palm left your own chest to clasp over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your sounds and she quickly moved the hand that was urging your twitching hips to grab your wrist and pull it away.

"hey, none of that. talking is encouraged now, remember?

"shut up." you gritted out through a groan, your hips jerking as your teeth caught on your bottom lip.

"alright, nevermind. not encouraged. copy that."

you tugged on her hair again to mash your lips together, effectively silencing her and sagging bonelessly against her as you came down from your high.

when the both of you finally parted, you looked down to see her mouth slack, head tilted back, and eyes so hazy you'd think she was the one who just came.

she blinked blearily up at you. "you're even bossier in bed than you are regularly. it's so sexy."

"if i hadn't told you to shut up so many times already, i would say it again."

she laughed out loud at that and you couldn't help but giggle back.

"how about i shut you up instead, yeah? put that mouth to work?"

you learned very quickly that she tended to be kind of squirmy when she was on the receiving end. it was as if she was unable to sit still in the onslaught of pleasure. honestly, it modeled how she was normally, always kind of twitchy and buzzing with energy.

you knew on future nights, you were going to revel in the experience of holding her down, pinning bucking hips to the mattress or firming your grasp on shaking thighs to keep them spread apart.

tonight, instead, you basked in the push and pull, chasing her with your mouth when she wriggled away and groaning in pleasure when she tugged you closer by your hair.

and when you slipped into a particularly good rhythm, hollowing your cheeks with every perfect pull of her clit into your mouth and lashing your tongue at the swollen nub, her hands scrambled to find purchase on something. anything. your sex-mussed hair, unraveled from the neat up-do you had put it in to prepare for bed. your bare, sweat-damp shoulders. and, finally, the perpetually messy sheets below her.

her left leg kicked out and she dug her heel into the mattress for leverage to thrust her hips up and up and up into you, her lower half rising so high you had to pull her by her bony hipbones back down so you could maintain the suction.

"fuuuh– ah, shit. i think i'm gonna—" she was propped up on her elbows now, fluttering eyes focused on you with a desperate gleam to them.

you worked her over with your mouth earnestly, keeping steady eye contact as she lifted a trembling hand, moving as if she was going to pull your head closer, bury your face even deeper in her.

but then those same eyes rolled back into her skull as she flopped back down, the hand falling to grip the sheets once again.

"fuck'mgonnacumbaby" she garbled out and the sight of her chest arching up made her tits look so pretty under her thin white tank top, you wished you had a free hand to reach up and tweak a nipple.

she let out a high-pitched, whispery whine that petered out into silence.

for a couple seconds, all that could be heard was the slurps as you lapped at her, and the hum of the fans from her pc in the corner of her room.

and then—

muffled groans as the strength of her closing thighs finally broke the grip you had on them and pressed against your ears. she wasn't good at staying still, but, apparently, she was even worse when she came, her body folding in on itself as she jerkily fucked her hips up into the heat of your mouth.

you let her fuck your face, your blunt nails dragging red lines down the sides of her thighs. the slight sting of pain grounded her, helping her ride out the waves and stopping her from getting too overwhelmed in the throes of an orgasm.

pulling your head back slightly, you alternated between soft, sticky kisses to her inner thighs and kitten licks at her entrance, cleaning her up and soothing her at the same time as she caught her breath.

"fuck. c'mere."

trembling hands cupped your face as she weakly tugged you toward her. you let her, shifting to settle into her side and throw a leg over her own. she sighed, wrapping her arm around you, pulling you even closer.

"whaaat?" she whined, craning her neck to glare when she felt you giggle. "why’re you laughin' at me?"

"because i know you’re about to try and convince me to go to sleep without washing my face again. and you know i can’t do that."

she didn’t answer — just flopped her head back on the pillow and shut her eyes tight, fake snoring loudly.

"ellie," you warned.

"can't talk. too busy snoozin'."

"my face is a mess, ellie. my hair too.”

"yeah, well. maybe you should've thought about this before you made me cum so hard i couldn't breathe. i absolutely can not move now, let alone clean up!"

you sighed, pushing yourself up off the bed — or trying to. the arm she had wrapped around you tightened in protest.

“ellie, seriously.”

“you can’t move either! i want you to stay. please? pretty please with a cherry on top my most gracious streamer and fortnite carry god?”

you shot her a glare and she grinned, clearly sensing how flimsy your resolve was.

“just five more minutes. then we’ll get up. wash our faces, brush our teeth. hell, i’ll even floss for you tonight, baby. bought those little sticks you’re always ranting about in those hygiene haul videos and everything.”

you huffed. wiped the back of your hand across the bottom half of your face like it would do anything. huffed again.

“fine. but seriously. five minutes. then we’re going.”

you woke up the next morning with a sticky face, ellie drooling on your collarbone, and your phone nearly buzzing off the nightstand from the amount of notifications you'd received post-stream.

twitch.tv/smellie — LIVE: eating victory crowns for breakfast 🥱

she was streaming fortnite the next morning, acting like nothing had happened. hoodie up, drawstrings pulled tighter than usual to ensure the hickeys you’d sucked into her skin the night before were thoroughly hidden.

she was focused—well, pretending to be—talking about the latest installment of some comic she was obsessed with while looting in-game and ignoring the onslaught of questions in chat.

elliebutinallcaps: WHERE IS SHE?? NotElliesAlt: so you’re avoiding the MASSIVE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM? elliesdischarge: she’s kneeling under the desk, be honest message deleted by moderator macetotheface: she’s prob busy making breakfast in ur hoodie altaccnumber29: blink twice if ur post-nut right now message deleted by moderator

“okay, so—” she was mid-rant when she paused, squinting at the chat. “jesus. y’all are crazy today. can we just play the game?”

messages were flying so fast her eyes couldn’t keep up:

ellieuseslightmode: BRING HER BACKKKKKK ellieclips: we literally heard the makeout. you cannot gaslight us. v4nitymirror: wait did she leave?? is she even still there 😭 maybemaddie: GUYS WHAT IF THEY FOUGHT AFTER. what if it was a drunk kiss and now it’s awkward.

she was sorting through her load-out after an intense fight she nearly lost against a surfer jonesy when it happened:

pastaluvrrr: hiiiii girlfriend 😽

she froze.

the click of her mouse stopped mid-action. the corner of her mouth twitched like she was trying not to react, but the flush across her face betrayed her instantly.

“oh my god,” she mumbled, shrinking into her hoodie. “why are you like this.”

chat, consequently, blew the fuck up.

elliesyumyum: GIRLFRIEND????? GIRLFRIEND. tima0911: please say this vod will be on youtube. PLEASE. elliethrows4me: NOOOOO SHE TOOK MY BITCH tryqt: not the hard launch via twitch chat LMAOOOO ayayayaim: SOMEONE CLIP THIS ellieclips: OH MY FUCKING GOD???

ellie tilted back in her chair, red spreading all the way down her neck. “i dunno why she’s lurking in chat when she’s literally downstairs,” she muttered, trying (and failing) to sound unbothered.

on cue, soft footsteps padded into the room. then came your voice, faint off-screen:

“i was making a matcha.”

the camera unfocused and refocused as you leaned into frame and planted a wet kiss on her mouth.

no warning. just one hand on her shoulder, the other still holding your drink. it was passionate, unashamed, and unnecessarily long.

“does that answer everyone’s questions?” you asked, eyebrow raised.

ellie blinked at you, dazed. then turned to chat—

only to see her character had died while she was busy making out with you.

“awesome,” she mumbled, cheeks ruddy. “you got me killed. hope you’re proud of yourself.”

jmattsz: holy tomato face mikuirl: THEYRE SO GROSS I LOVE THEM looten_scooten: i just took so many screenshots im out of storage iclutchforpastalover: MAMA Y PAPA

you breezed out of frame again like nothing had even happened. ellie cleared her throat. “okay. uhhhh, alright... so!”

chousey203: any day now…. elliebutinallcaps: SPIT IT OUT GIRL ecam96: 100% just creamed her pants message deleted by a moderator slaystation_: DUDE UR SO RED

“mods please,” she begged, hiding her face in her hands. “put chat in emote only. i’m not doing this.”

topnoodle44: 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈 boostedbytenshi: 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 usuallylurkin: 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💓🍑🍆💦 ellieuseslightmode: 😘😘👁️👁️

this work is mine. please don’t repost, copy, or publish elsewhere without permission. thank you!

[welostheplot]

posting this tonight muahahaha (spoiler: it gets a little smutty)

and then the next chapter of threshold soon i promise!

[welostheplot]

sigh….firefighter abby come home the kids miss you…🥀🥀

[welostheplot]

[welostheplot]

this is it. the fic that has me officially drinking the loser!ellie koolaid.

──𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑;

(loser!ellie x reader): you invite your shy neighbor over to held you build a shelf. and when is it ever just about building a shelf?

wc: 5.8k | cw: sub!ellie, oral sex (e!receiving), scissoring, reader and ellie are neighbors, a little voyeurism, the briefest masturbation ever, ellie is kind of a perv, MINORS DNI.

note: this came to me like a joan of arc vision and i had to write it real quick; now i can finally return to what im supposed to be doing which is hotwired. i have not forgotten!!

Ellie’s been hyper-aware of you since the moment you moved in. She told herself she’d go introduce herself, be friendly, neighborly. Even got halfway to your door once, palms sweaty, heartbeat in her throat. Spun right back around and nearly tripped over the stupid garden hose on her front lawn. Practiced what she’d say a few times in the mirror after that. Hated herself for it. Sounded like a fucking idiot.

You show up in her journal the day after. Then the day after that. And after that. Doesn’t take long before you’re a regular feature. Half her entries start with your name now. Sometimes she doesn’t even mean to write about you. You just slip in.

From her bedroom window, Ellie’s got a direct line of sight into your backyard. She tells herself it’s not on purpose. That she didn’t realize how perfect the angle would be until she saw you out there, laid out poolside, water beading on your stomach. She watches the way your skin gleams in the sunlight. The way you laugh with your friends. She watches too long. Every time. Then flips her sketchbook shut like it’ll help erase the way her throat gets tight or the way her stomach twists, low and hot.

You leave your curtains open in the mornings. Every morning. She’s never sure if you know what you’re doing. Her desk is already facing that way, and it’s not like she tries to look, but her eyes always end up there. And you’re half-dressed and padding around your room, still clearly groggy. You look right at her sometimes. Wave. Give her that smile. Just a little thing, crooked at the edges like you know what it does to her. And Ellie barely manages to lift her hand in return without her fingers shaking.

She doesn’t talk to you. Not really. You’ve said hi a few times. Made some joke while taking out the trash once. The usual pleasantries neighbors share. But it’s always her who fumbles it. She blanks out when you talk to her. Nods at the wrong time. Trips over her words. One time she tried to say “good luck” and ended up blurting “you too” before pretty much sprinting back into her house.

She thinks about you way too often. Thinks about your lips, your legs, the way you look when you tilt your head and act like you don’t know you’ve got her wrapped around your little finger. She wakes up some nights still breathless from the kinds of dreams she’d rather not admit to having. Some mornings all she can do is roll over in bed and grind against her hand until she’s coming and whining your name into her pillow.

She’s got it bad. Real bad. And she knows it.

—

Ellie’s in the middle of a tense match when the doorbell rings. She's crouched behind cover, one kill off a win, headset on, mic hot, muttering a steady stream of curses under her breath. She doesn’t even look up. Just yells, “Joel, door!”

No response.

“Joel!”

Still nothing.

Ellie groans, leans back in her chair, and yanks her phone off the desk. Swipes down to open the Ring cam feed, already pissed, and then nearly throws her phone across the room. Because it’s you.

You’re standing there, relaxed like you’ve got all the time in the world. Wearing that loose tank top that always rides up a little when you move. 

“Fuck,” Ellie hisses. She rips her headset off mid-callout—some dude in her party starts yelling that she’s throwing—and she bolts from her chair, nearly tripping over the controller cable. Her socks skid across the hardwood as she rushes to the door, still a little breathless from the sprint and the game and the fact that you’re right there.

She flings the door open. “Hey—uh, hi. Hey.”

You look her over, clearly amused. She’s wearing an old band tee that’s definitely seen better days, a loose pair of boxers, and mismatched socks. She tries not to think about how stupid she looks. She also tries not to pant. Fails both attempts.

“Everything okay?” you ask, clearly trying not to smile. “You look like you ran a marathon.”

“I—no, I was just…I was doing something. In the middle of something. Game. Match. I mean, not important.” Ellie gestures vaguely behind her, then scratches the back of her neck. “What’s up?”

You hold up a folded sheet of paper and what looks like a flat-pack manual. “So, I bought this shelf online. One of those ‘some assembly required’ deals. I got halfway through unboxing it and realized I have no fucking idea what I’m doing. I was gonna call someone but then I remembered your dad does, like, handyman stuff, right?”

Ellie nods before you even finish the sentence. “Yeah, totally. Big handy family. I mean. Joel’s handy like professional-carpenter-handy. Like Jesus. But I’m handy, too. I can do…shelf stuff.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Absolutely,” Ellie lies. With the confidence of someone who has never assembled anything more complex than a bong. She’s pretty sure you can tell she’s bluffing. But you don’t call her out. You just grin like you’re indulging her. And that’s even worse. Ellie wants to melt into the floor.

You glance at Ellie’s current state of undress and smirk. “I’ll, uh, let you get dressed.”

Ellie freezes. Her face goes red so fast it’s actually impressive. She glances down and immediately crosses her arms over her chest, shifting her weight from foot to foot like it’ll somehow make her smaller.

You don’t say anything else, but your eyes drag over her anyway, slow and obvious. Ellie doesn’t even see the way your gaze lingers nor the heat in it. She’s too busy dying on the spot.

You tap the side of the manual against your thigh. “See you soon, handyman.”

You turn and head back down the porch, all easy swagger, and Ellie just stands there with her heart in her throat, watching you go until the door shuts behind you.

She slams her door shut and practically sprints to her room, ripping off the gross shirt and tossing it somewhere under her bed. She yanks on the first cleanish tee she can find—plain gray, no holes—then switches out the boxers for a pair of old jeans with only one tear in the knee. It’s the best she’s got. Her deodorant gets applied in a panic swipe, and she actually considers cologne for half a second before deciding that’s too obvious.

She finds Joel in the garage, hunched over some busted weed whacker, noise-canceling headphones around his neck. When Ellie tells him she needs tools, he barely looks up.

“Which ones?”

“I dunno. Whichever ones I need, I guess?” She’s already looking around like the answer will just manifest itself. “Shelf-making ones?”

Joel sighs and turns toward the storage shelves. He reaches behind a tarp and pulls out a small glittery toolbox—the same one he gave her when she was fourteen as a joke because it was “on sale” at some hardware store. It’s bright blue with silver sparkles and a cracked plastic handle. It once served as a nice case for all her art supplies, but it’s long since been retired.

Ellie groans. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Said you needed tools.”

“I cannot show up at their house with that,” she says, pointing at it like it personally wronged her. “It’s humiliating.”

Joel shrugs. “Still holds nails, don’t it?”

Ellie glares. But she takes it. Because she did say she’d help and backing out now would make her look even more like a freak. So she grabs the stupid thing, holds it against her side like that’ll make it less noticeable, and makes the short walk across the lawn to your front door. She’s already running through every possible way she could mess this up.

The most damning of them all is that she doesn’t have a single clue what she’s doing. Joel has built every single piece of furniture Ellie has owned ever which has left her pretty severely lacking on any real knowledge on putting these things together. But how hard can it really be? She knows what a shelf looks like and she can read. Should be fine. 

You open the door before Ellie can knock, like you’d been waiting for her. She's gripping the sparkly toolbox like it's her last shred of dignity, and you don’t even bother hiding your grin when you clock it.

“Cute box.”

Ellie scowls. “Don’t.”

You just step aside and let her in. “Come on. It’s in my room.”

Of course it’s in your room. Ellie swallows hard and follows you through the house, trying not to look like she’s memorizing your back. Your place smells nice. Like clean laundry and citrus and something warm underneath. She tries not to think about that too hard either.

Your room is—cozy. Lived-in without being messy. There’s a half-drunk iced coffee on your nightstand and a candle that burned itself out hours ago. A pile of neatly organized books. And dead center on the floor, a cardboard box and a sad collection of loose wooden boards that definitely could be a shelf.

Ellie hovers by the doorway for a second too long. You notice. “You coming in or…?”

“Yeah. No. Yeah.” She steps inside, sets the toolbox down with a clack like it just betrayed her, then crouches beside the box and starts pulling out the parts, one by one. “Okay, so, we got like... panels. Screws. Instructions in the smallest font I’ve ever seen. Cool.”

You sit down on the edge of your bed and watch her sort through the chaos. She's trying to look capable. Focused. Like she knows exactly what comes next. “You want help?”

Ellie snorts. “Nah. Got it.”

You nod slowly. “Right. You got it.”

She spends the next five minutes trying to figure out what piece A is and how it connects to piece B while you watch her like she’s the best thing on TV. Her brow furrows, lips pursed, a little smear of sweat starting to form at her temple. She flips the manual upside down. Then right-side up again.

Eventually, you lean in. “So, real question. Do you actually know what you’re doing?”

Ellie laughs, short and sharp. “Absolutely not.”

You grin. No pity in your eyes, just amusement. “Then why’d you say you did?”

Ellie sits back on her heels and scratches at the back of her neck. “Didn’t wanna seem like some loser who can’t even put together a shelf. Not exactly a great look.” Her cheeks go pink as she averts her gaze from yours. 

You blink. “Did you not think it’d be worse to be caught lying about being a loser who can’t build a shelf?”

“I…I didn’t really think that far ahead?”

And you can’t help but laugh. “It’s fine, Ellie. We’ll figure it out together.”

You move closer like it’s nothing. Like sitting thigh-to-thigh with her on your bedroom floor isn’t a big deal. Your knee nudges against hers as you reach across her for one of the side panels. Your fingers brush over the back of her hand, just for a second. Not an accident. Ellie tells herself it has to be an accident because the alternative would mean this is something, and if this is something, she’s going to combust.

You smell like your shampoo. Your skin is warm. Every time you lean in, Ellie feels it in the back of her neck. She’s trying to focus on the instructions, on the tiny print and dumb little line diagrams, but her mind is chewing itself up in the background. She’s not even pretending to be useful anymore, just kind of holding pieces while you do most of the actual building.

And you definitely know what you’re doing. Not with the shelf, maybe, but with her. You keep shifting closer. Leaning in a little more than you need to when you reach past her. Your fingers skim along her wrist when you take a screw from her hand. Every brush of skin is casual on the surface but soaked in something heavier, more deliberate. You’re circling her like it’s a game, and she’s losing.

Ellie shifts, her whole body twitchy, like she’s trying to create space without making it obvious. Her hands are fists on her lap, knuckles white. She won’t look at you. Her gaze is fixed somewhere two feet in front of her. She takes a sharp breath when you settle a hand on her thigh—light, slow, like you’re trying not to spook a prey animal. And it’s not even a grab, not anything obscene. Just resting there.

She’s going to die. She’s going to die in your bedroom with stupid (not to mention soaked) minecraft boxers on. And as far as she knows, you’re none the wiser. She’s wrong, of course.

You give her a moment, then pull back, gentle and entirely unfazed. “I think we can probably stop here. I’ll finish up the rest later.”

Ellie jolts like you slapped her. For the first time in a while now, her eyes are back on yours. “What? No—I mean, yeah, if you want, but we don’t have to. Like, if you’re busy, or—”

You’re already laughing a little under your breath as you stand. “Ellie.”

She gets up in a rush, like she’s just now remembered how legs work. “Okay, cool, thanks for letting me—uh. Help. Sort of.”

She’s already heading toward your door, head down, hands shoved deep into her pockets, throwing out a frantic string of goodbyes: “Alright, see you later—thanks again—hope the shelf doesn’t like, fall over. Bye—”

“Ellie,” you say, stopping her before she can reach the hallway.

She turns around, slow and confused. Her face is pink. She’s still got that stupid glittery toolbox clutched to her chest like it’s a shield. You tilt your head. “I was actually gonna see if you wanted to hang out a little longer.”

Ellie’s brows pull together. “What? Why?”

You blink at her. “Because my parents are out of town and I’ve been bored.”

Ellie frowns, confused. “Don’t you have friends?”

You laugh and Ellie quickly launches into a jumbled explanation of how she didn’t mean it like that. Before she can fully work herself up, you step forward, closing the space again, and place your hands lightly on her shoulders. She freezes. Her eyes lock on your mouth and immediately dart away.

“Ellie.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to hang out with you. Specifically.”

Silence. Ellie just stares for a beat. Then: 

“Oh.”

You grin, stepping back a little like you’re trying not to scare her off. “People who like each other usually hang out.” And Ellie has to tell herself that you are referring to the platonic kind of like. She is, once again, glaringly incorrect.

Ellie’s voice is barely a whisper. “Right. Yeah. That makes sense.”

“So?” you ask, watching her. “You wanna stay?”

She nods, too fast. “Yeah. Definitely. I can stay.”

You give her that smile again—the one that makes her stomach fold in on itself—and motion for her to join you on your bed.

Ellie stands there another beat, still clutching the toolbox. Her palms are sweating. Her ears are ringing. She thinks about writing this down later but knows she won’t need to. This is the kind of moment that tattoos itself into your brain.

You queue up Jurassic Park and flop down onto the bed, patting the spot beside you. Ellie hesitates for a beat—eyes flicking to the edge of the mattress like it’s a trap. Then, she sets down her toolbox and climbs in. She sits stiffly at first, shoulders high, back not quite touching the headboard. You toss a blanket over both of you like it’s no big deal, and Ellie goes even stiller, like you just cast a spell on her.

The movie starts, and for the first ten minutes, she’s visibly tense—knees locked, jaw clenched, arms crossed like she’s trying to physically hold herself together. But then the first dinosaur shows up, and Ellie perks up like a dog hearing its leash jingle.

Suddenly, you’re hearing her form entire sentences without missing a single beat, her enthusiasm lighting up her eyes in a way that’s nothing short of adorable. She’s got corrections and fun facts and gripes that really are that serious. And you’re content to listen to each and every tid bit she gives you.

“You’re kind of a dino nerd, huh?”

Ellie shrugs, but she’s grinning now. “I had this book when I was a kid. Read it so many times the spine fell apart. Joel used to quiz me on the names even though he kinda sucked at it. It was a whole thing.”

Looking at her now, she is well and truly loosened up. Her shoulders aren’t up by her ears anymore. Her voice is still low, but steadier. She’s not second-guessing every word out of her mouth.

You shift slightly under the blanket and find her hand resting in the space between you. Her fingers twitch when yours brush against them. You wait half a second—then curl your hand over hers, easy.

Ellie jumps a little.

Her eyes cut toward you, startled, but she doesn’t pull away. She settles slowly back into it, thumb grazing against your palm, a smile playing on her lips.

Then, carefully, you tug her hand over and drop it into your lap.

Ellie goes rigid and her hand twitches where it sits in your lap. “Shit—sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

You tilt your head, eyes narrowing just a little. “Why are you apologizing?”

She stares at you, stunned. “What?”

“I put it there,” you say. Your voice is quieter now, and you shift closer until your knees knock and your thigh presses against hers beneath the blanket. The movement shifts Ellie’s hand close to the inside of your thigh. “Because I wanted it there.”

Her mouth opens. Closes. Her eyes search your face like she’s waiting for the punchline. Like she’s convinced she must’ve misheard you, or that any second you’ll pull the rug out from under her. Her jaw works like she’s trying to find a safe response and coming up blank.

You let her look. Let her get all twisted up in the silence. Then you speak again, softer.

“You’re, like, impossible to flirt with.”

Her breath catches. She doesn’t even try to hide it.

You pull back a little, just enough to look her in the eyes. “Unless I misread how you look at me?”

Ellie looks away, clearly embarrassed. “What way do I look at you?”

You smile, slow and sure. “Ellie. You’re incredibly obvious.”

She lifts her gaze back up to you, wide-eyed and still as stone. Like if she breathes wrong, you’ll disappear.

“You’re always watching me,” you continue, your voice warmer now, threaded with something closer to affection. “You blush every time I get close. You trip over your words. I really hope you don’t think you were being subtle staring at me from your window?”

And like you summoned it, a flush climbs her neck. It spreads quickly. Splotchy and pink, blooming across her cheeks and burning down her collarbone. She groans under her breath and covers her face with her free hand, as if that’ll protect her from the sheer mortification eating her alive.

You laugh, soft and real, and reach up to gently nudge her hand away so you can see her face again. “You’re pretty, you know.”

Ellie swallows, her throat bobbing like her whole body’s gone dry. Her eyes flick to your mouth, then back up to yours, like she’s not sure what to do with the ache building behind her ribs.

You drop your voice again. “Can I kiss you?”

For a second, she just breathes. Then:

“Fuck yeah, dude.”

You don’t make her wait. You lean in and kiss her, and Ellie melts under the pressure. She makes a sound deep in her throat, half-surprised, half-relieved, and her hand tightens where it’s still caught in yours.

The kiss starts slow, soft, and exploratory but it doesn't stay that way. Soon enough, you’ve got her on her back, your legs caging her in. Ellie kisses back like she’s starving, all open mouth and uneven rhythm, a little too eager, teeth knocking into yours when she gets too excited. You just smile against her and pull her in closer.

She’s warm beneath you, chest heaving, hands hovering awkwardly at your waist like she’s not sure if she’s allowed to touch you. You shift, pulling away enough to pepper kisses along her jaw and down her neck. Her eyes flutter open, wide and glassy.

“Ellie,” you murmur, breath hot against her jaw, “you can touch me.”

“I don’t—where should I—fuck, I don’t wanna mess this up.”

You grab her wrists and guide her hands down to your ass, slow and intentional. “Start here.”

Ellie groans into your mouth like it hurts, like you just snapped something inside her. Her fingers flex against you, gripping tight, unsure and desperate all at once. She kisses you harder now, tongue clumsy but needy, and it only fuels you more. You rock against her a little, and her hips twitch up instinctively—like her body already knows what it wants even if her brain’s stuck buffering.

She’s breathing hard, lashes fluttering, hands still squeezing like she’s afraid you’ll take the permission away. You pull back just enough to tug her shirt up, fingers slipping underneath the soft cotton, palms skating over her stomach. Her breath stutters.

Then you reach her tits—small, warm, and blessedly sensitive—and she arches, eyes slamming shut as her mouth falls open.

“Fuck,” she gasps, voice wrecked already.

You grin, leaning in to kiss the corner of her mouth. “You’re so cute.”

She nods, helpless. Her hands are still glued to your ass like it’s the only thing anchoring her to reality.

You roll your thumb over her nipple, slow, and watch her fall apart under you—face flushed, breath shallow, mouth dragging open like she’s trying to speak but forgot how. You feel her hips shift beneath you again, and you swear she might start begging.

You ruck her shirt up higher, exposing more of her flushed skin, and Ellie lifts her arms automatically like she’s in a trance. You push the fabric up over her chest but don’t bother pulling it off—just enough to bare her tits, already peaked and sensitive from your earlier touch.

“Fuck,” you murmur, half to yourself. She looks wrecked already, sprawled out beneath you, pupils blown wide, chest rising and falling like she just ran laps. You shift lower, sliding down her body, dragging your mouth along the soft skin of her ribs, across the center of her sternum, and then finally up to her tits.

Ellie gasps when your mouth closes around her, her back arching off the bed like it’s instinct. You suck lightly, then swirl your tongue over the sensitive bud, feeling the way her whole body jerks beneath you. Your hand comes up to palm the other, thumb rolling lazily over it, matching the rhythm of your mouth.

“Holy shit,” Ellie breathes, voice thin and cracking. “That feels—fuck, that feels so good.”

You hum against her, pleased, and gently nip at the peak just to see how she’ll react. She cries out, high and sharp, her hips twitching beneath you. Then, you feel it: the way her thigh muscles tense, how her breath goes ragged as she starts grinding against your leg, slow and instinctive.

You glance up at her through your lashes. Her face is flushed deep red, her lips parted around soft, helpless little whines. You press your thigh in closer, give her something to move against, and she takes it. Hips rolling in tiny, desperate circles, chasing friction like it’s all she can think about.

“Look at you,” you murmur, switching sides, sucking her other nipple into your mouth and letting your teeth graze the edge. “So worked up. You like that?”

Ellie lets out a broken little noise, her fingers curling tight in the sheets. “Yeah,” she pants. “Yeah, it’s—it’s so good. I can’t—fuck—”

You pull back just enough to watch her squirm, to see the way she bucks helplessly against your leg, her tits wet and shining from your mouth, her chest heaving like she’s about to fall apart.

“Tell me,” you say, low and deliberate, leaning in to flick your tongue over her nipple again. “Tell me how good it feels.”

Ellie whines, forehead pressed back against the pillow, barely holding on. “It feels…it feels amazing, I swear, I—”

You sink your teeth in gently, right over the peak, and she cries out again, hips stuttering. Her leg clenches around yours, her body strung tight, trembling.

You kiss your way back up her chest, licking the sting away where your teeth left faint marks, and then lift your head to look at her. Ellie’s eyes are glassy, lips slick and parted, her whole body taut like she’s waiting for instructions.

“Take your jeans off,” you murmur, already sitting back to strip yourself without fanfare. Shirt over your head, underwear tugged down and kicked off..

Ellie’s slower. Predictably. Her hands fumble with the button, and she lets out this soft frustrated grunt when the zipper catches. “Fucking—hold on—”

You grin, not helping yet, just watching her struggle. She finally gets the fly undone, starts to shimmy them down her thighs—but she’s too flustered, too distracted by the fact that you’re already naked and looking at her like that. She gets them halfway down her knees before giving up and groaning, “Can you—ugh—can you just help?”

“Of course,” you say, and lean forward to grab the denim and yank it down her legs in one smooth pull. She averts her gaze as you giggle at her ridiculous choice of underwear. She mumbles something under her breath about not being prepared for this. Still, she lifts her hips for you, panting slightly. Her shirt comes off in the process, getting tangled around her arms before she peels it off and tosses it blindly across the room.

Now she’s naked. Spread out. Flushed and panting, thighs twitching slightly as you settle between them.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, staring down at you like she can’t believe this is happening.

You kiss the inside of her thigh—slow, deliberate—and watch the way her whole body jumps. Her hands twist in the sheets. She’s so soft and wet already, your breath alone making her shiver. You part her lips with two fingers, drag your tongue through her, slow and warm, just once. Ellie’s hips jerk, a soft desperate sound falling from her lips.

You hum, teasing. “You want more?”

“Obviously,” she says, a little punched-out laugh falling from her lips.

You press a kiss to her clit, light and fleeting. “Ask nicely.”

Ellie makes a wounded sound. “Wha—what?”

“If you want to come,” you say, thumb brushing lightly over the slick swell of her, “you need to beg for it.”

Ellie’s head drops back to the pillow. “Jesus Christ,” she mutters, breath hitching. But she does it. Of course she does. You watch her work herself up, watch her flush darker, open and close her mouth while she searches for the right words.

“Please,” she whimpers, voice thin and cracked. She clears her throat like it’ll help. “Please make me come. I want it so bad, I need it—I’ve never—fuck, I need it, I swear—”

She’s panting now, rocking her hips up into what little you are giving her, already starting to tremble. You take pity on her. “

She cries out, back arching high, her thighs locking around your head. You lick her with long, slow drags, then fast flicks of your tongue over her clit, your fingers steadying her hips as she bucks. She’s making the prettiest fucking noises. High, breathless, completely unraveling.

It doesn’t take long. She’s too worked up, too raw and needy. When she finally comes, it rips out of her in a broken gasp, her whole body seizing up, shaking under you like a live wire. You don’t stop until her legs go slack and she lets out a wrecked, whimpering sound that’s barely even your name.

Ellie’s still coming down when you crawl back up her body, straddling her thigh and kissing her hard—messy and deep, like you’re trying to feed off the noises she’s still making. She kisses you back, dazed and slow, her hands trembling where they cling to your waist.

You drag your slick center over her thigh deliberately, your breath hitching at the friction. Ellie’s eyes flutter open, and when she realizes what you’re doing, her whole body locks up before melting into it like she can’t help herself.

“Holy shit,” she murmurs, voice raspy, eyes fixed where you’re grinding against her. “You’re so hot, m’gonna pass out.”

You don’t slow down. You shift higher, thighs hooking with hers, sliding your wet cunt against hers in a rhythm that makes both of you gasp. She’s already sensitive, her clit puffy and aching, and you can feel it: every twitch and tremble, the way she whines under you like it’s too much but not enough to stop.

“Fuuuck,” Ellie moans, her hands gripping your hips like she’s holding on for dear life. “You feel so good. This is fucking insane.” Her voice pitches higher in open disbelief.

You groan, your body grinding down harder, chasing friction, chasing heat. You’re soaked, both of you, slick smearing between your thighs with every desperate rut of your hips. It’s hot and messy and overwhelming in the best way. Her shaky praise only spurs you on, Ellie breathless and flushed and absolutely ruined beneath you, watching you like you’re divine.

“Can’t believe you’re doing this,” she babbles, overwhelmed and wide-eyed. “Can’t believe you’re on top of me like this—fuck, you’re unreal, you’re…so fucking pretty—”

She whines when you slam your hips down harder, clit grinding perfectly against hers, your whole body trembling as the pressure builds, mounting fast. Her praise turns softer, sweeter, even as her voice gets shakier.

“Let me make you come,” she whispers, her thumbs stroking shaky lines into your hips. “Please. Wanna feel it—wanna feel you come on me.”

You let out a broken sound and bury your face in her neck, hips speeding up, chasing it, chasing the crash. She’s moaning under you, helpless and aching, but still telling you how good you are, how perfect you feel, how fucking lucky she is.

It hits like a wave—hot and sudden and sharp. Your whole body locks up, hips stuttering as the orgasm crashes through you, your nails digging into her shoulders as you ride it out. You cry out into her throat, breath hitching, thighs clenching tight around hers as you fall apart.

And then you collapse onto her, sweaty, panting, your body still twitching with aftershocks. She wraps her arms around you instantly, holding you close like she never wants you to leave.

You feel her lips press against your hair, and her voice is still unsteady when she whispers, “Jesus Christ. You’re gonna fucking kill me.”

—

After the two of you manage to catch your breath and situate yourselves a bit, you find yourself cuddles into Ellie’s side. She’s tracing little patterns into your shoulder and the two of you manage to catch the end of the movie. A comfortable Ellie, you soon discover, actually has a lot to say. 

You make the mistake of telling her that you would love to see her Minecraft world and it’s enough to have her bolting from your bed. “I’ll be right back!” She says as she dresses quickly and stuffs her feet back into her shoes. 

Ellie returns breathless, laptop clutched to her chest. Her hair’s damp at the temples from running back and forth between houses, shirt slightly crooked like she didn’t bother checking a mirror before bolting back. You’re still sprawled naked on the bed, comfortably wrecked, watching her with a lazy sort of hunger that hasn't even begun to fade.

She drops the laptop onto the comforter, breath still catching in her throat. “Okay,” she says, already booting it up. “Prepare to be amazed. This is my Minecraft world. I’ve been working on it for like…three years? Four? It’s got an enchantment library, and a working minecart system, and—”

You smile, indulgent, as she flops down next to you and pulls the laptop into her lap, immediately clicking into the game. Her brows furrow in concentration, tongue caught between her teeth as she navigates her little pixelated house, mumbling something about her intricate mining systems and mob grinders.

You nod, pretending to follow. You hear the words, but all you’re really focused on is the way her eyes light up, the quiet excitement in her voice. Her fingers are moving fast on the trackpad, explaining something about her “nether tunnel network,” and she glances at you with those big, eager eyes—proud and entirely unaware of what she looks like right now.

It makes something spark hot and urgent inside you again.

You lean in and kiss her. Soft, at first. Just enough to get her attention.

Ellie freezes, blinking once. “Wait—I was showing you the—” But she doesn’t finish, not when your hand finds her jaw and you kiss her again, deeper this time, climbing into her lap without breaking contact.

Her breath catches hard in her chest. Her hands hesitate before they find your hips, thumbs rubbing gentle circles into your skin, her mouth opening up for you like it’s automatic. She kisses messily, still distracted, but when your body settles into hers again—warm and familiar and insistent—she groans into it, one hand sliding under your thigh.

“You’re gonna kill me,” she mumbles, voice rough, eyes fluttering shut as you suck at her bottom lip.

“That’s the plan,” you murmur back, already rocking your hips into hers.

She lets out a low noise, kissing you harder now, hands wandering greedily—up your spine, around your waist, fingertips teasing the curve of your ass. She’s just starting to get really into it, her mouth trailing down your neck, when—

“Shit!”

You jolt slightly as Ellie shoves you off her lap and scrambles for the laptop. “Fucking spiders—goddamn—”

You fall back against the pillows, laughing as she clicks furiously. Onscreen, her character is flailing with a sword while two cave spiders chase her through a mine shaft.

“I can’t believe you find spiders more enticing than me,” you tease, breathless with laughter.

Ellie doesn’t look up. “Listen, I don’t wanna have to go on a whole journey to get this shit back. Just…lemme deal with this and I’m all yours. "You laugh even harder, pulling the blanket up around you as she fends off the blocky threat, completely naked under the covers while Ellie disposes of the threat. Red-faced, focused, and yours.

[welostheplot]

uh-oh, jean's trying her hand at writing smut again everyone watch out. and this time, its for ellie.

[welostheplot]

The duality of Ellie Williams because I was listening to her audio clips to get a sense of her voice while writing her POV and tell me why it goes from innocent, giggly laughter to screaming “YOU’RE GONNA FUCKING DIE” and then she asks a horse ‘why the long face’

[welostheplot]

me reading the tags people put in my notifications

[welostheplot]

── 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 ᨒ↟☾.࿔*:･ 𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐞 𝐢 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐱

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: vampire!ellie williams / werewolf!abby anderson / reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: prom night brings slow dances, stolen glances, and more than one person vying for your attention. the millers’ going-away party promises a sobering reminder: some goodbyes are more complicated than they seem.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: underage drinking + a tiny little bit of blood mentioned.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.1k

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: why the hell did i make myself write not one but two party scenes in this chapter. i'm never doing that again. also, i will admit parts of this were very self indulgent. possessive/jealousy stuff in fanfics is like...my ultimate favorite trope. so prepare to see a lot of it in this fic, oops!

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐄 𝐈 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗: "the last night"

YOU WEREN'T EVEN NERVOUS UNTIL YOU HEARD HER KNOCK.

your dad beat you to the door.

of course he did.

he’d been camped in the living room with his arms crossed like some sort of bodyguard, occasionally muttering things like “don’t see why anyone needs to show up early to a school dance,” and “what time’s this thing even end?” you’d talked him down from opening the door with his rifle in hand about fifteen minutes prior.

you stood a little back from the door, adjusting the strap of your dress for the hundredth time, tugging at the hem even though you knew it was fine.

and then ellie was there.

black suit. black tie. black boots—because of course she refused to wear dress shoes. hair pushed back out of her face in a way that made her cheekbones pop and her jaw look sharper than usual. her eyes—wide and stunned, mouth parted just slightly when she looked at you.

"whoa," she said.

you blinked. "what?"

"nothing. just…" she shook her head a little. “you look really... really fucking good.”

your dad cleared his throat loudly.

ellie flinched, having momentarily forgot about the other presence in the room.

“um, hi,” she said, turning to him. “apologies for the language, sir. i’m… uh— i'm ellie. ellie miller.”

he looked her up and down. “mm.”

ellie glanced back at you, nervous. you shrugged.

then he stepped forward, pointing a finger at her accusatorily, and said gruffly, “just so we’re clear—i’ve got no problem with you dating my daughter.”

ellie blinked. “oh. okay. that’s—good?”

“...but i do have a problem if she doesn’t come home safe.”

ellie swallowed. “i'd never play about her safety, sir.”

“and if she ends up crying—because of anything you say or do—”

“sir, i wouldn’t—”

“dad,” you groaned.

“just being thorough.”

eventually, somehow, you escaped. you let ellie open the passenger door for you and climbed into her car with your dress carefully gathered in your lap.

you only made it halfway down the block before she reached across the console and took your hand, intertwining your fingers with her ice-cold ones.

"you really do look beautiful," she said, eyes still on the road.

your face went warm. "you clean up pretty well yourself."

ellie smirked. "told you i could rock a suit."

"yeah, yeah. don’t let it go to your head."

by the time you pulled into the school parking lot, the butterflies in your stomach were less nerves and more adrenaline. ellie parked in her usual spot toward the back, killed the engine—and then didn’t move.

neither did you.

you both sat in the silence for a beat too long before she said quietly, “i’ve wanted to do this the entire car ride.”

“what?”

“this.”

she turned in her seat. leaned in slowly. like she was waiting for you to stop her.

you didn’t.

your lips met in a kiss that started out sweet, soft—but it didn’t stay that way. you shifted closer, one of your hands moving to her shoulder while both of hers found your waist. the console dug into your ribs as she pulled you toward her, but you didn’t care. not when she kissed you like that.

it deepened quickly—her hands gripping tighter, one sliding to brace herself on the dashboard in an attempt to get even closer, breath hitching. your fingers tangled in the fabric of her lapel, and she groaned—low and breathy—as you took her bottom lip between your teeth and tugged.

then—

crack.

you both froze.

your eyes darted to the dash, where a fresh dent now marred the hard plastic, ellie's hand still planted in the center of it.

she cursed under her breath and immediately pulled back, running both hands through her hair.

“fuck. sorry. that was—”

“intense?” you offered, breathless.

she gave you an apologetic look. “dangerous.”

you shook your head, still a little dazed. “you’re telling me.”

she reached out and fixed the strap of your dress, her thumb brushing over your bare shoulder and hovering a little longer than necessary. "fuck," she breathed out again, then turned to open her door.

"come on," she said, trying to shake it off. "let's go get this over with."

AS SOON AS YOU ENTERED THE GYM, YOU REMEMBERED WHY YOU DIDN'T WANT TO GO IN THE FIRST PLACE.

they’d gone all out—twinkle lights, glittery streamers, fake crystal centerpieces on every table. a rented fog machine wheezed in the corner.

and everyone turned when you and ellie walked in.

you couldn’t blame them.

ellie looked annoyingly good in her suit, hands shoved casually in her pockets, posture confident but relaxed with you poised pretty like her arm candy.

she leaned in to whisper in your ear, “you’re definitely getting crowned.”

you laughed. “no way. cassie’s the prom queen shoe-in. she literally campaigned.”

“then she better enjoy her last few minutes of relevance.”

“ellie," you huffed out with a chuckle.

the two of you weaved through the crowd. cassie waved from her circle of friends—who spoke much too high-pitched and much too quickly for you to ever try and befriend yourself. nat wolf-whistled when you passed, which earned her a punch in the arm from devin. you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling.

you danced. with cassie, with dina, even with jesse, who twirled you around until you were dizzy. you drank five cups of the punch, which definitely had been spiked. the lights blurred into a haze, your cheeks flushed, your feet ached, and ellie kept finding you—always right when you started to look for her.

then the lights dimmed for the slow dance song of the night, and she was already there before the first chord started.

“may i?” she asked, holding out her hand with a silly little bow.

“you may,” you said, voice soft.

she pulled you close, one hand at your waist, the other cradling your hand as you swayed. the moment felt unfairly cinematic—like something out of a movie. it was like everyone else faded away, and you basked in it, grinning so hard your cheeks hurt when ellie whispered in your ear:

"you're kind of it for me, you know that?"

you didn't answer. just kissed her cheek and hugged her tighter.

you were still tucked into her side after the slow dance when abby approached.

her voice was low, steady. “mind if i cut in?”

you blinked up at her, immediately hyperaware of how ellie’s arm around your waist tightened just slightly. the tension between them crackled the second they made eye contact.

you looked up at ellie. “is that okay?”

ellie’s jaw flexed. “it’s your night.”

you hesitated, then nodded before you could think too hard about it—slipping out of ellie’s hold (but not before a parting squeeze to her hand) and letting abby lead you away. she guided you to a quieter spot near the edge of the dance floor, fingers settling at your waist with practiced ease.

the music had slowed again, something low and thumping and sultry. abby moved with quiet confidence, twirling you with minimal effort. her palm was warm through the fabric of your dress.

“you look nice tonight,” she said simply.

you swallowed, face heating up. "thanks. you too."

she smiled at that. then added, voice quiet, “i wasn’t gonna come to this. didn’t think it’d be my scene. i mean, we don’t even go to school here… but owen said it was an open thing. and then i remembered your dad mentioning you’d be here too.”

you looked up at her, startled, and she just shrugged, gaze dipping to your lips briefly before she forced it back up.

you didn’t know what to say to that. your eyes flicked behind her to where ellie stood, watching, biting the inside of her cheek. her hands were in the pockets of her jacket like if she didn’t ground them, she might do something stupid.

abby didn’t look back. she didn’t have to. her hand tightened slightly at your waist, firm and certain.

“just one dance,” she said, “that's all i'm asking for right now. don’t wanna think about anything else.”

you nodded slowly. and for the next two minutes, you tried not to think about the weight of ellie’s stare across the room while abby’s thumb brushed your side in slow, rhythmic circles.

IT FELT LIKE THE ENTIRE SCHOOL WAS PACKED INTO THE DINER.

you weren’t surprised. prom was over, the music still ringing in your ears, and booths were crammed with tables pulled together, shoes kicked off under chairs, and dresses bunched up awkwardly around legs.

and there you were—wedged into a booth with the millers beside ellie, halfway through a grilled cheese you were definitely too drunk to finish.

your head lolled against her shoulder as you blinked down at the menu, rereading the same sentence on the milkshake list for the fifth time.

"did you know," you slurred thoughtfully, "the milkshakes here are like... soooooo fuckin' good."

ellie snorted. "you're drunk."

“'m not drunk,” you said, then immediately hiccupped.

"right."

you hiccupped again. then pushed yourself up to smack a slobbery kiss on ellie's lips. she didn't even attempt to push you away.

jesse barked out a laugh from across the booth. "oh my god, get a room!"

"shut up," you grumbled, kicking him under the table. he didn't even flinch.

dina smiled at you fondly, cooing. "stop teasing her, jesse, she's precious! makes me miss being able to get drunk."

riley muttered under her breath from the end of the table about having to babysit not being “precious” at all, earning a glare from ellie.

you sighed, letting your eyes fall shut, content to soak in the chaotic buzz of the diner with ellie's arm around your shoulders as she absentmindedly dragged her fingers along your bare arm.

"did you enjoy your night?" she murmured softly to you.

you nodded sleepily, eyes still closed.

she hummed, amused. “you’re cute when you’re like this.”

“like what?”

“all fuzzy and stupid.”

you turned to look up at her, grinning now. "you liiiiike me."

"sure do."

you didn’t notice the waitress stopping by to refill your water, although ellie quickly urged you to drink it, mumbling something about how you'd regret it in the morning if you didn't while she pushed the bendy straw up to your lips.

you leaned into her side as you sipped slow pulls of cool water from the straw. let her take the cup from you and place it on the table when she noticed you were finished. closed your eyes again and whispered, “thanks for not leaving yet.”

her voice rumbled against your temple.

“not until you make it through prom. that was the deal.”

you smiled.

“and besides,” she added, “someone’s gotta keep you from drunkenly trying to order milkshakes you won't even drink.”

you giggled. “don’t tempt me.”

YOU WOKE UP FEELING LIKE YOUR SKULL HAD BEEN CRACKED OPEN.

the early morning light was way too bright through your curtains and your mouth was so dry it hurt to swallow. you made a noise somewhere between a groan and a wheeze as you rolled over, burying your face into your pillow.

prom. dancing. diner. shouting along to songs with lyrics you barely knew playing on the radio in ellie’s car during the ride home. letting her hold your hair as you emptied the contents of your stomach out on the side of the road, two blocks away from your house. stumbling in the door somewhere around 3 a.m., dress bunched up in one hand and a milkshake to-go in the other.

after downing the glass of water and painkillers left on your nightstand (thank goodness for understanding fathers), you fished out your phone from under the covers and squinted at the screen. you had an assortment of texts from your friends and opened cassie’s first.

groggily, you skimmed through her recap of the night and frenzied texts about winning prom queen. getting tripped up on the third abbreviation you didn’t understand, you went to put your phone back down—only for a new text from her to pop up:

'u gt dinas email? millerz going awy prty? WTF!!!! </3 we def g2g!!!!'

you managed to drag yourself out of bed just far enough to reach your laptop, flipping it open and grimacing at the bright screen's glow.

one new email waited for you in your inbox.

from: dmiller@me.com subject: miller family farewell gathering

as you may have heard, my family and i will be leaving town soon for a long trip. we'll be hosting a small going-away soiree this friday night at the tipsy bison. if you are receiving this email, you are cordially invited! bring something to share if you’d like, and feel free to dress however you feel best. looking forward to seeing you there. sincerely, dina miller

you smiled as you reread it, though the happiness felt bittersweet. you were halfway through typing a reply (and digging through your photos to find the one of ellie adjusting your corsage—because yes, dina needed to see it) when there was a knock at your window.

your brow furrowed.

you got up and pulled back the curtain, shielding your eyes from the sun.

ellie was hanging off the side of your house, one hand holding her up, the other clutching a canvas tote, her hoodie pulled up despite the clear skies.

"you formally met my dad last night. you can knock on the front door like a normal person now."

"that's obviously not as exciting."

you groaned and stepped aside so she could climb in.

she landed with practiced ease, dropping the bag on your bed and digging through it.

“figured you’d be in rough shape, so—hangover delivery.”

from the bag, she pulled a cool bottle of gatorade, a greasy breakfast sandwich wrapped in wax paper, and a crumpled napkin with fries. your stomach turned and growled at the same time.

you took the gatorade and flopped back on your bed. “i’d kiss you if my mouth didn’t taste like battery acid.”

“noted.” she sat beside you, handing over the sandwich. “i'd kiss you either way. just so you know."

you smiled shyly at her, then took a small, cautious bite.

"saw the email about your party," you mumbled between chews, "kinda surprised you guys would host something like that. considering you don't really, like, socialize."

ellie chuckled. "dina's idea. said it would be good so people won’t get suspicious about us packing our bags so randomly.”

“you'll be there though, right?”

she shot you a look like you were ridiculous for even asking.

you smiled, leaning into her shoulder. even through the ache in your head, the weight in your chest felt a little lighter with her there.

ellie stayed beside you, quiet while you nursed your gatorade and rested your eyes. and when her fingers found yours beneath the covers, you squeezed them gently in thanks.

THE TIPSY BISON DIDN'T LOOK LIKE MUCH FROM THE OUTSIDE.

but inside, it had a cozy, wood-paneled warmth that made you want to stay a while. joel had pulled some strings to rent it out for the night—“a private event, something for the kids, yanno,” he’d grumbled to the manager—and now you were here early in your sweats and one of ellie's hoodies, helping string fairy lights and pin up a cheesy little “we’ll miss you!” banner over the bar.

a playlist played in the background, a weird mix between ’30s jazz and ’70s rock, and ellie had immediately complained. “they’re going to think we’re either ancient or insane. can we not just put on the billboard top 100?”

"jesse made the playlist," dina had explained with a shrug. "said he was feeling nostalgic."

you had laughed at that, climbing up on a step stool to pin a row of photos dina had printed on thick glossy paper onto the wall.

the pictures showed the millers over the years: joel taking the oath of office. the family at jackson’s fall harvest fest. ellie and riley, arms flung around each other’s shoulders, grinning like idiots. dina and jesse elbow-deep in snow on a hike. and then—your chest tightened—one of all of you from prom night, smushed into the diner booth, grinning at the camera. even riley had a hint of a smile, jesse making bunny ears behind her head.

you reached for another pushpin to tack the photo in place but sliced your finger on the sharp metal edge instead.

“shit,” you hissed, yanking your hand back.

it wasn’t even that bad—just a small line of blood welling up on the pad of your index finger—but the effect was instantaneous.

every vampire in the room turned.

cat lunged across the room in less than a second, eyes blown wide, teeth bared, an inhuman growl ripping from her throat.

riley ran to grab at her arm, barely managing to hold her back.

“cat,” she barked. "control yourself!"

but the younger vampire didn’t hear her. or didn’t care. she was still new, still learning restraint. and right now, she was breaking out of riley’s grasp and throwing herself toward you again before ellie shoved herself in front of you, effectively blocking her off.

“get the fuck away from her.” ellie snapped, voice feral.

jesse had cat by the shoulders in the next breath, dragging her back. she was snarling, eyes wild, but he kept her pinned while dina tried to talk her down. “hey, it’s just a drop,” she said tightly, like she was trying to convince herself as much as everyone else. “you’ll be okay.”

"get cat the fuck out of here," ellie ordered, grabbing your hand.

you let her pull you toward the bathroom, heart still pounding, the atmosphere behind you crackling with tension. she didn’t speak until the door clicked shut.

“sit,” she ordered, pointing toward the counter. you sat without a word.

she wet a paper towel under the tap and knelt in front of you, her expression dark, jaw tense. she held your hand like it could break at any moment, dabbing gently at the cut.

“this is why we have to go,” she said quietly.

“ellie—”

“no, i'm serious. did you see her? now imagine that with a different newborn. one who isn't one of us. one who will do anything to kill you with no hesitation."

you stared down at her, at the tight line of her mouth, the panic behind her eyes.

“you all protected me, though,” you said with a meek voice.

ellie glanced up. “of course we did.”

“...and she didn’t hurt me.”

ellie closed her eyes for a second. then stood. “you should just get changed for the party, okay?”

you tilted your head. “you just want to stop talking about it.”

“yep,” she admitted with a tight-lipped smile. “that's completely correct.”

you smiled faintly, eyes tired. “okay.”

as you slipped out the door to grab your bag, you felt her watching you go—and you could feel the weight in her gaze.

IT WASN'T LIKE YOU TO WEAR SOMETHING LIKE THIS.

you’d spent longer than you meant to in the tavern’s tiny bathroom, taking time to recover from what had just happened without ellie’s standoffish energy in the room making you even more anxious.

when you finally felt like you could breathe at a normal rate again, you stepped out of the stall and used the mirror above the sink to fix your hair and adjust your short skirt. the top you were wearing had a much lower cut than you’d usually go for.

but tonight wasn't like other nights.

it was the last night.

and part of you wanted ellie to remember exactly what she’d be missing while she was gone.

when you stepped back into the main room, the overhead lights had dimmed and the fairy lights you helped hang earlier glowed soft and golden across the walls. riley had control of the music now, something upbeat playing through the speakers.

the tavern was steadily filling up—half the town showing up either out of nosiness, respect, or an excuse to snag free drinks. people had started dancing, others posted up near the bar or gathered around a pool table in the corner.

ellie found you in the crowd fast.

you saw the exact moment her eyes landed on you, caught mid-conversation with jesse, untouched beer in hand. her words faltered, her brow twitched, and she blinked like she wasn’t sure she was seeing right.

jesse turned to look too, whistled under his breath, and promptly got smacked in the chest by dina.

"jesus," you heard ellie mutter as you approached, and you tried not to smile as you fiddled with the hem of your skirt.

"that what you changed into?" she asked, voice lower than usual.

you raised an eyebrow. “problem?”

“no,” she said. “you’re just gonna give me a fucking heart attack, that’s all.”

you laughed. "that's literally impossible."

"not the point," she said, tugging you closer to her and giving you a slow once-over that made your knees wobbly.

before you could say anything else, cassie and leah appeared with drinks in hand. leah quickly snapped a photo of you and ellie on her digicam before you could even try to protest—the bright flash making you blink blearily.

“you look sooooo good,” cassie said, eyes wide. “ellie, doesn’t she look hot?” she fanned herself dramatically before handing you a cup of mystery juice. you sniffed it and held back a gag before taking a tentative sip, still sensitive from prom night.

ellie nodded without hesitation, humming a low "mhm."

"god," leah added, "i wish i liked girls. you two are, like, a lesbo power couple."

"leah!" cassie gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth in shock. "you can't just say words like that. that's totally a slur or something..."

you gave ellie a knowing look before ushering them off before they could embarrass you any further.

FOR THE REST OF THE NIGHT, ELLIE STUCK CLOSE BUT GAVE YOU SPACE.

while you mingled and made your rounds, she’d stop by intermittently to hand you another drink (making sure you were getting equal parts water, of course) or brush her hand over your waist to ensure your skirt stayed at an appropriate length.

at one point, she tugged you toward her in a corner just to press a lingering kiss to your jaw and tuck her fingers under your skirt’s hemline, tickling the top of your thighs like she just couldn’t help herself.

her charming behavior was effectively distracting you from the reason the party was even happening. and when she swayed you in her arms along to the music, dorkily shimmying her shoulders with a small smile, it made you want to kiss her right in the middle of the room.

you almost did.

but then the tavern doors opened again—and she stiffened in your embrace, easy smile vanishing instantly.

you turned toward where her gaze had locked.

the WLFs had come. and you doubted they’d been “cordially invited,” as dina had put it in her email.

abby spotted you almost immediately, her lips quirked into a grin that made your stomach do a flip. she made her way over, slow and deliberate, her gaze dropping to your bare legs and then slowly climbing back up.

"hey, you," she said, stopping a foot in front of you. "cute outfit."

you ducked your head, embarrassed. "thanks."

ellie said nothing. she hadn’t moved from your side, her hand gripping possessively at your hip.

abby glanced at her. "miller."

"anderson."

“relaaaax,” abby said. “it's the tipsy bison. unclaimed territory. and we’re not here to cause problems. just figured we’d stop by, show our faces, steal a drink or two. maybe another dance?" her gaze dragged back to you.

“maybe some other time,” ellie answered for you, shifting slightly in front of you now.

abby nodded, unphased. "not a problem. seems like we'll have plenty of time soon anyway."

your heart thudded. you glanced between them, mouth opening with a half-formed response, but abby kept going.

“such a shame a girl who apparently likes you so much can still leave so easily, huh?”

the silence that followed was instant and sharp.

abby didn’t wait for a reaction. just bumped her shoulder against ellie’s as she moved to melt back into the crowd, nora greeting her with a grin as they disappeared toward the music.

this work is mine. please don’t repost, copy, or publish elsewhere without permission. thank you!

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @oneinameliann @taronyuhunter @tenebrisirae @stravvbwerry @panic4sage @valeisaslut @moonysheartbreak

[welostheplot]

Protective!Ellie in Ch. 5 making it really hard to be a Team Abby truther right now UGH 😩

you gotta walk with me here anon, team abby fans will be fed SO SOON but this is a love triangle! reader needs to be into them both! i need to feed all of my children! (except unfortunately anyone who might possibly think nat has a chance... you will not be getting fed, i fear.)

[welostheplot]

I don't care if she commits atrocities, bro, she's justified by the narrative