Ellie Williams Au - Blog Posts

YESSSS😆😆😆

streamer!ellie pt.2

summary: i hated the other one of this that i made, so REMAKE TIEM!!!

warnings: miiinor sexual content, shit talking, gay people 😒

authors note: heheheh ples don’t flop this time..

- during her faceless days, she opened up a po box so ppl could send her things, and she made an amazon wishlist and she unboxed stuff on stream 😍😍

- one day she was unboxing a giant box of cat toys. string, those little feather stick things, even that weird automatic flapping fish thing (that she secretly loves and taped to her back one time)

- she was playing with this one toy that was a little fishing reel, and it had string and a little fish on the bottom. she went on and onnn about how shes a self proclaimed “fishing master” while garf chased it around, letting out little meows and growls of frustration.

- eventually, she lost her grip and let go of the pole. she bent down to pick it up, forgetting that her face would be in view. thus, the chat started blowing up.

ewwwbruh: FACE REVEAL

ewwife: EW WE CAN SEE UR FACE

ewwife: JUST THE SIDE BUT WE CAN SEE YOUU

ewssidechick: her nose looks so rideable…

- she got distracted petting garfield, and didn’t realize anything until she stood up. she was getting tagged over and over again on twitter, blurry pictures of her face (curtesy of the shitty webcam) circulating through her subreddit.

- “guys. im gonna erase this from ur memory…” and she literally held up this goofy ass hypnotizer pendelum and started fake hypnotizing everyone like “that never happenedddd” “you don’t know what i look likeeee” “that was fakeeee” “chat that was not reallll”

- and everyone literally js went along with it and pretended it never happened. like ppl were tweeting about it and everyone was like “huh??? what are u talking about bruh??”

- she did the same thing after falling off her rainbow unicorn scooter 😞

- one time she revealed that the “ew” in her username stood for her initials, and everyone was making the most horrendous guesses. elliam willace being the favorite one.

- “guys, my name is not edward wilson??? i am…not a man”

- shes gotten into so much drama…multiple notes app apologies have been issued via her instagram story.

- people would ask her opinions on other streamers, and she’d literally just be like “…i have no idea who that is.” and people would get so MADDDD but homegirl is literally just blatantly unaware

- or she would know , and would literally be like “they’re honestly super annoying and i would rather kill myself than watch them but whatever floats ur boat ig!”

- she played that “womp womp womp womppp” sound effect on her soundboard afterwards.

- SPEAKING OF. she abuses that soundboard sooo much. its so obnoxious and annoying like I SWEARRR!!! she’ll tell a horrible pun and play the crowd laughing and cheering sound effects while literally no one laughed.

“guys. whats the best way to watch a fly fishing tournament??”

“…live streaming.”

(crowd cheering sound effect)

“nooo thank you thank you, you’re all too kind, really!!”

- meanwhile chat was dead silent.

- every time she gets to choose her own name on a game its some dumb shit like "jizzmaster" or "chris fucker"

- “it appears you have entered innapropriate content.” “OHHH LOOK AT EPISODE LOOK AT THESE CORPORATE BIGWIGS TRYING TO CONTROL THE LITTLE MAN???”

- she just ended up naming him “chris phucker”

- like when she played episode on stream and made up really annoying voices for all the characters and made her character look like an elderly man, and made the love interest look like you 😍😍

- she messes up sm on games when she streams normally, but when you're there? she is LOCKED THE FUCK IN. sitting there so focused the entire time just to show off

- whenever she randomly goes silent she just starts SINGING. it's either nicki minaj or some fucking fnaf song

"IS THIS THE THANKS THAT I GET FOR PUTTING U BITCHES ON???"

- speaking of, her favorite fnaf song is def “stay calm” cuz she loves saying “hey kids. Nice to eat ya.”

- bought one of those "i paused my game to be here" tshirts…ironically. you refuse to let her wear it in public

- beefs w kids on fortnite sm... she has definitely gotten banned for saying she was gonna bomb a kids house or fuck their mom 😞

- every time she plays a game, she'll literally sit there and watch an 8 hour long video about the lore. she'll plop down on the couch and watch it like a movie

"did you know everyone actually thought that fnaf one took place in 1993, but it was actually 1992?"

- she definitely had you sit next to her when she played through fnaf because she was lowk scared the entire time whenever she heard you walking around the house while she was playing she'd hear footsteps in the hallway and be like. WHAT THE FUCKKK

-she'd have you right next to her, laying your head on her shoulder and messing with her free hand. if you fell asleep, she would be sitting there slapping her hand over her mouth whenever she gets jumpscared bc she doesn't want you to wake up 😞

- sometimes, while she streams , she plays one handed games and lets you sit and draw on her arm for fun. even got you a whole set of those skin markers so u could go ABSOLUTELY HAM. she got one drawing you did that said “r + e 4eva” tattooed in ur handwriting…such a sap

- she loves watching fan edits of herself...AND OF YOU. she'll be on her burner account with a whole collection on tiktok of edits of you.

ewwsbiggestfan: shes so bad i want her to hit me w her car...

- speaking of. imagine her using that account to make shitty capcut edits of you like

- shes ur biggest fan ongod

-WHILE WE’RE ON THE TOPIC OF “fans”…what if i made a completely new origin story for streamer!ellie and reader. what if they were both streamers….

- OKAY SO BASICALLY.

- you had started streaming about a year before ellie did. butttt, you two did very different types of streaming.

- you weren’t very into like, SERIOUS video games. sure, you played some stuff, like animal crossing and roblox and the sims, but nothing more than that.

- that wasn’t what you were streaming though.

- ever since you were younger, you had been wayyyy into…literature.

-by literature i mean fanfiction. heaps of it.

- actors, anime characters, BOOK CHARACTERS, you were in DEEP

- sometimes, for fun, you used to read them out loud in stupid voices. when you were alone, or with your friends, it was very entertaining

- that’s when you got the idea to start streaming it. if it could entertain your friends, and you, whos to say it wouldn’t entertain other people.

- well, it definitely did. in your first year, you hit 10k followers. people loved you. theyd make edits of you, send in requests of fics for you to read, everything.

- a while later, ellie started gaining more and more popularity. out of all the incomes of fame, fanfiction was the most. abundant!

- one day, you got a request to read an ellie x reader fic. at the time, you barely had any idea who she was, but you decided to just go with it 🤞🏽

- “who the fuck is elliam willace???”

- the fanfic was definitely very…graphic!

- “your hips rolled onto her thigh, her slender, tattooed hand palming at your waist. ‘you’re doing so good babe, fuck.’-“ “GUYS. ISN’T SHE NOT ON MUTE RIGHT NOW???”

- you couldn’t help but giggle the rest of the fic, feeling a nagging heat in your core. you didn’t even know who the girl was, but if this fic was accurate, someone would have to sedate you.

-“im actually. gnawing at the iron bars of my enclosure. GUYS. who is this woman…is she real… if she is. things are about to get WICKED.”

- not very thankful to you at the moment, she was very real. apparently, you and her were streaming at the same time, and your followers raided her stream telling her she was reading about you. her curiosity was obviously piqued, and why would she NOT join the stream?

- creeperewman: im definitely real!

- the text on your screen literally made your stomach fall into your ass. you stood up and legit just walked out of the room, camera still on. was she there the whole time???

- creeperewman: aww 😞 where’d she go she’s so badddd

- you eventually returned after a minute of calming yourself down, and low and behold, she gifted you 100 subs and followed you on instagram.

- she was definitely very real!! and that fanfic was…lore accurate. to say the least 😊

- after you two started dating, the two of you would often show up on eachothers streams. ellie, teaching you how to play cod, and you, reading with her.

- she secretly loves reading the fics people write about her and making fun of them, and every time you stream with her shes “subtly” hinting that you should read about her

sitting there pulling on her collar, looking away like “gee, wonder who you’re gonna pick today” with the worst fake laugh ever.

- “ellie can barely ride a scooter, idk why she’s in the mafia rn…” “you fall off ONE TIME and all of a sudden you cant ride a scooter. bullshit.”

- she makes fun of all the dumb pet names like “babygirl” and “darling” and randomly calls you them and bursts out laughing

- you still read those fics when you’re bored sometimes. and ellie MERCILESSLY makes fun of you for it

“yknow, if you missed me that bad, you should’ve just told me.”

꒰ lick it up, fucking eat. ᮫ ⭒

married!ellie x interior designer! reader Summary: Ellie hires you to bring her shitty wife’s so-called "dream home" to life, but you end up fufilling something else.

The house was silent, save for the low hum of the air conditioning, which flowed through the sprawling, half-renovated living room. You stood in front of a swatch of paint samples, holding each one up to the fading light from the bay window. The sun dipped low, casting golden fingers across the unfinished floorboards, hinting at what the space might look like when it was finally complete. Ellie watched you from across the room, leaning casually against the doorframe with her arms crossed, her gaze drifting between you and the wall.

“That one,” she muttered, jerking her chin toward the beige sample you held. Her voice was laced with something close to disdain. “She thinks it’s ‘elegant.’ "

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the shade—a flat, muted tone that felt as lifeless as the drywall it would cover. "Well," you replied, “if she wants ‘elegant,’ I’m sure we can do more than beige."

Ellie’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, a glint of something both dark and playful in them. She pushed off the wall, coming a little closer, her boots scuffing against the rough wood. "Exactly what I was thinking," she murmured, her gaze lingering on you a second too long before shifting to the wall.

You let out a quiet breath, suddenly very aware of the way her presence filled the room, heavy and warm, with a pull that seemed to demand attention. Her sleeves were pushed up, revealing her tattooed forearm—faintly smudged paint stains and a few scratches etched across her knuckles. Her messy hair fell into her eyes, and she brushed it away, glancing down at the floorboards as if they might give her the answers she was looking for.

“So… if it were completely up to you,” she continued, her voice softer now, “what would you do with the place?”

You felt a small jolt of excitement, surprised that she cared enough to ask your opinion. You took a slow breath, letting yourself look around the room with fresh eyes. "Something warm, to make the room feel alive. Maybe custom furniture, something that doesn’t look like it’s from a catalog."

She nodded slowly, her gaze following yours as you spoke, but there was something deeper, something unspoken in the way she looked at you. Like this wasn’t about the walls or the furniture.

"We could go for that," she said, and her voice dropped, quiet, the weight of her words sinking into the empty space between you. "Anything that makes this place feel less… hers."

Your heart fluttered at the faint edge of bitterness in her voice, the quiet rebellion hiding beneath her sarcasm. She was closer now, close enough that you could feel her warmth radiating toward you in the cooling room, close enough that you could see every detail of her: the subtle flecks of green in her eyes, the faint line of a scar near her temple.

You reached out, brushing your fingers over a scratch on the windowsill. "This place could be incredible. It just needs to feel lived in, loved.”

Ellie swallowed, her eyes following your hand. “Can you fullfill that?,” she murmured, and there was a softness in her voice now, something that made your stomach flip.

Your breath caught, pulse quickening as you felt the subtle shift in the air between you. The moment held a thread of tension, tight and fragile, like something waiting to be snapped. You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’d love to show you. Just need a little… freedom with the choices.”

Ellie’s smirk returned, faint but laced with something deeper, "Freedom, huh?" She stepped back, giving you a lingering once-over before nodding, her voice a low murmur. "Yeah… I think we can work something out."

She pulled her gaze away reluctantly, as if forcing herself to break the spell, and you felt the strange tug of her absence, the fading warmth of her presence as she retreated toward the hallway. "Just… no beige," she added, her back already turned, her voice drifting down the hall like an invitation. 

You stood there, the glow of the setting sun washing over you, you realized you felt a thrill. 

The days passed in a blur of decisions, late-night calls with suppliers, and a dozen small, carefully calculated adjustments to make the space feel warmer, more vibrant—despite the rigid input from Ellie’s wife. You’d spent the afternoon with her, going over fixture placements and fabric swatches. She was precise, clinical, every suggestion an opportunity to correct, to refine, to turn down anything that dared to stand out.

Ellie’s wife stood in the middle of the room, studying the sofa with a critical eye. She let out a sigh, her fingers skimming over the velvet, dismissing it as though it were somehow beneath her. “I thought I made it clear I wanted something more sophisticated. This feels… almost flashy.” Her gaze landed on you, thinly veiled irritation simmering beneath her smile.

You opened your mouth to explain the intention behind the choice when the front door opened. Ellie walked in, still in her work clothes, a slight weariness to her step. Her gaze moved from you to her wife.

Ellie’s wife immediately turned to her, her posture stiffening. “There you are. I was just telling our designer here that this,” she gestured to the room around her with an air of distaste, “is not what we discussed.”

Ellie’s face tightened, a frustrated, almost exasperated look clouding her eyes. “ A little color wouldn’t kill you.”

“Yes, but I expected you’d listen to what I actually wanted.” She crossed her arms, her gaze pointed. “This was supposed to be tasteful, Ellie. Not… whatever this is.”

Ellie let out a dry laugh, brushing past her, stepping closer to you as she took in the room. “And by ‘tasteful,’ you mean dull walls and soulless furniture. Right?” 

Her wife’s eyes flashed, and she folded her arms tighter. “It’s not my fault you don’t understand the concept of refinement.”

Ellie’s jaw clenched, her hand flexing at her side. “God, do you even hear yourself? It’s a fucking home, not a damn workplace. Just—" she glanced over at you, her face softening briefly as if realizing you were caught in the middle. "Never mind.”

You held your breath, feeling the tension swell, a raw kind of frustration radiating between them. But Ellie’s wife was relentless, her voice sharp and dismissive. “Oh, here we go again. You act like I’m asking for something ridiculous. Just admit it—you’re the one who’s never satisfied. You’re the one who thinks everything has to be some big, meaningful statement. Not everything’s about you, Ellie!”

Ellie’s face flushed, her eyes flashing with something dangerously close to anger. She opened her mouth, then closed it, a defeated breath slipping past her lips as she seemed to reconsider. She cast one last glance at you, and you felt that familiar pull between you—a silent, unspoken understanding—and then, with a shake of her head, Ellie stormed off, her shoes echoing down the hallway until the door slammed behind her.

Silence swallowed the room, leaving you and her wife alone once more. 

“See what I have to deal with?” she muttered, shaking her head. "She gets these weird ideas about what’s ‘creative’ or ‘cool’ and just… doesn’t listen to reason. She doesn’t even understand what it takes to make a space look sophisticated. Her taste—it’s like a teenager trying to decorate a dorm room."

You felt your grip tighten on the sample book, but you forced yourself to stay professional. “Well, Ellie did mention she wanted something with a bit more character.”

Her wife snorted, crossing her arms with an exasperated sigh. “Exactly. Character. She’s so out of touch with what a home needs to feel welcoming. She can’t just accept that maybe—just maybe—she doesn’t know better than me.”

She flipped past a deep, velvety forest green swatch Ellie had specifically loved. “This green? I mean, it’s hideous. Who even wants a dark color like that in their home? It’s depressing.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, looking at the swatch she’d just discarded. “It could add some depth to the space. Sometimes dark colors bring a warmth that—”

Her wife gave you a sharp look, like you’d crossed some invisible line. She forced a tight smile. “Trust me,” she said, voice dripping with condescension, “there’s nothing to ‘deepen’ here. I know what I want, and I don’t need Ellie’s… outlandish tastes cluttering up my vision.”

The house had transformed into a hive of activity, buzzing with the sounds of hammers, paint rollers, and snippets of conversation as workers bustled around. Every corner of the room felt alive with movement, a stark contrast to the emptiness you’d felt days prior. Furniture was being hauled in, drapes were hung, and the walls were beginning to take on their new colors. Yet despite the flurry of activity, your attention was divided, searching the room more often than not for a familiar face.

And then, as if on cue, Ellie appeared.

She wove through the workers, carrying a crumpled paper bag in one hand and balancing two cups of coffee in the other. She wore a smile, her messy hair peeking out from under a faded baseball cap, a glimmer of excitement lighting up her face as she caught your eye. She slipped between a worker with a paint can and another adjusting a lamp, until finally, she stopped in front of you. 

Ellie held up the bag with a faint smile. “Thought you could use a break,” she said, nudging the bag into your hands. “There’s a place around the corner that makes delicious pastries.”

Surprised and a little touched, you opened the bag, the warm, sweet scent wafting out immediately. “Thank you.”

The noise of the workers faded into a distant hum, becoming a mere backdrop to the moment as you took a bite of the pastry. The warm sweetness melted on your tongue, rich and comforting, drawing a soft sigh from your lips. But in your enjoyment, you didn’t notice the crumb that fell, catching just at the corner of your lips. 

Ellie did, though.

In the midst of all the clamor—the sharp buzz of saws cutting through wood, the metallic clinking of hammers striking nails, and the sound of her wife’s sharp voice scolding a worker about the paint application—Ellie stepped closer, her expression suddenly serious.

Her fingers were careful, warm, and impossibly soft as they brushed the crumb from your lips. You felt her fingertip linger there, feather-light, barely skimming your skin, but enough to make your breath catch.

Her gaze held yours, deep green eyes flickering with an unreadable emotion that pulled you in. Ellie’s fingers felt electric against your skin, her knuckles resting against your cheek, the warmth radiating from her touch contrasting with the cool air of the room. Ellie’s eyes dropped for just a heartbeat, shifting from your gaze to your mouth, where her thumb hovered near your lip. You could feel your heart racing, each beat echoing in your ears as she lingered just a moment longer than necessary.

You could hear her breath hitch slightly as her fingers finally pulled away, leaving your skin cold in their absence.

“Fuck” she murmured, voice low and just a little hoarse. Her gaze drifted to your lips one last time, almost on purpose, before she forced her eyes to focus anywhere but on you. 

You remember when the affair began.

It was a cold winter, the kind that seeped into your bones, making everything feel heavy and muffled. Snow blanketed the world outside, a serene white glow through the window. 

Ellie was pressed against you, her body radiating heat as she leaned in closer, her face achingly near yours. You could feel the warmth of her breath mingling with the cool air between you. Her hands flexed around your hips, desperate to grip them, to anchor herself to you. 

There was a desperation.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” She pleaded, her voice strained,  a wish that perhaps if you rejected her, if you spoke the words she needed to hear, the desires swirling for you would vanish. 

But as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against yours in a feather-light touch, the world around you blurred.  A shiver raced down your spine, igniting something deep within you—a spark that flared into a flame, daring you to give in. 

“I need you,” Ellie breathed, the urgency in her voice sending warmth pooling in your stomach. Her words ghosted over your skin, leaving a trail of heat that made it impossible to think straight. “I need to feel you, to taste you. Please, let me have you…” 

You could see it in her eyes—the hunger, the need. 

Your lips touched Ellie’s, slowly, tentatively at first. You hesitated for a moment, searching her eyes for any sign of hesitation, any hint that this was a mistake. But all you found was a dark hunger reflected in her gaze, a need that mirrored your own. The soft sound of falling snow outside barely registered as you leaned in closer, feeling the warmth of her body.

Ellie’s lips then pressed against yours, slow and soft, “Oh, fuck.” she gasped, her breath warm against your mouth. 

It was all you needed. 

You kissed her again, this time deeper and more sensual, losing yourself in the taste of her. Every brush of your lips was a question, every stroke of your tongue an answer. Savoring the way her tongue stroked against yours with caresses that left you breathless.

“God, you taste amazing,” she murmured against your lips. The way she spoke made you feel seen, desired, as if every part of you was exactly what she craved.

“Ellie…” you breathed, her name slipped from your lips so easily. 

Ellie’s kisses grew more urgent, each one a desperate plea for more as her hands gripped your hips with bruising force, anchoring you against the wall. Her lips trailed down your neck, gasping as her teeth grazed over your skin.  And then, without warning, she sucked hard, her mouth forming a seal against your neck. 

“Oh fuck..” you breathed, your voice aching to be more than a whisper. 

Ellie was already lost in her own world, her focus entirely on you, on the way your body responded to her touch.

"Shhh, we need to be quiet," she whispered, her voice low with need, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, pupils dilated with lust, a fiery spark that made your stomach knot.

Her hands wandered down your body, fingers tracing the contours of your ass, kneading the soft flesh as she pulled you closer, digging into your skin and leaving dents where her grip tightened.

"God, I can’t get enough of you." she breathed, her hands slipping to unbutton your jeans. Her fingers teased the waistband of your panties, dipping just beneath the fabric to caress your folds, igniting a heat through you. She kissed and nipped at your neck, her tongue flicking out to taste your sweat-slicked skin.

Her hand slid further into your panties, her fingers parting your slick folds to stroke your sensitive clit. You gasped, your mouth agape as she circled the swollen nub with a feather-light touch. Her other hand slid up your body, cupping your tit and kneading the soft mound. Her fingers found your hardened nipple, pinching and rolling the sensitive bud between her thumb and index finger.

"Oh fuck.." you hiccuped, “please.." 

Leaning down, ellie’s hot breath hovered over your sensitive skin before she took your nipple into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it. She moaned against your nipple, her tongue flicking against the hardened bud as she sucked hard, her teeth grazing your skin, making you gasp.

"Ellie," you begged, your voice strained with need. "I need more.”

Her eyes darkened with lust as she gazed at you, turned on by your desperate pleas. "Beg for it," she groaned, her voice low. Ellie's fingers stroked your slick folds, teasing your entrance but not yet delving inside. She circled your clit with light touches, making you buck your hips, seeking more friction.

“Please," you moaned. "Please, fuck me."

Apparently she didn’t need much convincing.

With an urgency, Ellie plunged two fingers knuckle-deep into your soaking cunt, curling them upward to stroke that sensitive spot inside you. The lewd sound of your juices squelching filled the air as she pumped her fingers in and out, stroking your inner walls with each thrust, her thumb rubbing soft circles around your aching clit.

"Atta girl.." Ellie groaned, her voice thick with desire. "Ride my fucking fingers."

"fuuck, right there," you moaned, your eyes rolling back in pleasure. 

You reached down to slide your hand to unbutton ellie’s jeans. Her belt clinking as her hips bucked forward. Your fingers crept beneath the waistband of her boxers, feeling the slick flesh of her dripping hole.

"Fuuck me," Ellie moaned, grinding her hips against your hand, spreading her thighs wider to give you more access to her aching cunt. Her movements were desperate, urging you to rub her swollen clit, the sensitive nub pulsing beneath your touch.

"Yes, fuck, just like that," she groaned, her perky tits bouncing slightly with each thrust. Her head rolling back in pleasure, eyes fluttering shut as she lost herself.

"Yes, just like that," You moaned, ellie’s fingers pumping faster in and out of your dripping cunt. She could feel your slick coating her fingers, your juices dripping down her wrist. Your hips jerked erratically, your stomach beginning to knot. With a sharp cry, you came, your pussy spasming around her fingers as you rode out your orgasm.

"That's it, cum for me," she moaned, rubbing your clit faster to prolong your pleasure. "Come all over my fucking fingers." Your body shuddered, your walls clenching around her as you milked her fingers for all they were worth. She could feel your juices gushing out, coating her hand and dripping onto the floor. Your moans filled the room, echoing obscenely off the walls.

Ellie slowly withdrew her fingers, feeling your walls clench around her as she pulled them out. Your juices coated her hand, glistening in the low light of the room.

She grabbed your shoulders, pushing you down to your knees. She hooked her thumbs in her waistband, shimmying her boxers down her thighs before stepping out of them. Ellie's pussy was glistening, she parted her folds to reveal her throbbing clit. She straddled your face, her dripping cunt hovering just above your mouth

“Fuck I -" Ellie moaned, grinding her hips down to press her pussy against your lips. “Fucking taste me.” Ellie's juices coated your mouth as you flicked your tongue out, lathering it along her slick folds before delving inside her dripping hole. Ellie's poor thighs trembled, her hands gripping your hair as she rode your face frantically, bringing her fingers to her lips, sucking your slick off of them with a low moan.

“You’re so fucking good," She groaned, her juices coating your mouth, dripping down your chin.

"That's it, right there," Ellie panted, her thighs trembling around your head. "Fuck, your tongue feels so good." Her hands gripped your hair, pulling you closer as she rutted against your mouth. 

"That's it, fuck, I'm gonna cum-," Ellie moaned, her hips jerking erratically. You plunged two fingers deep into Ellie's soaked cunt, her walls clenching around quickly, her juices gushing out. You sucked ellie's clit faster, feeling it twitch beneath your tounge as she came. 

“What the fuck!?” ellie’s wife excalimed. 

She had walked in, her eyes widening in shock as she took in the scene before her. 

Ellie was still straddling your face, her dripping pussy pressed against your mouth. The obsecene sounds of slurping and moaning filled the room, leaving no doubt as to what had been happening. 

You remember when the affair began. 

You remember when the affair ended.

candy crush. (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you’re too sweet, and ellie hates it. 

WORD COUNT: 4.3K

WARNINGS: recordshopmanager!ellie, crumblcookiebaker!oc, hurt/comfort, ellie’s a cunt, ocs too sweet, FLUFF?? FROM ME??? HUHHH, crushing, slight suggestive thoughts

A/N: idk where this came from lol

Ellie’s reorganizing the vinyl selection when a delicate hand lands on her shoulder. “I know your miserable ass doesn’t enjoy company,” Dina hisses in her ear, purposefully hushed, “But you got company.” 

Ellie’s eyebrow quirks with confusion, leaving the earplug that blasts Head like a Hole to dangle over her shoulder. Her eyes glaze over the semi-filled shop, narrowing in on every face until she locks eyes with you from behind the guitar displays. The eye contact only lasts about 1.5 seconds before Dina smacks her leg. 

“Don’t look. You’re gonna make it weird.” Dina quietly snaps from beside her, occupying her hands with some misplaced records. 

“You know her?” 

“I see her around sometimes. I think she works nearby,” Ellie catches her smirking from the corner of her eye, “… I think she likes you.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“I’m dead serious. She’s been staring for the past 10.” 

“At who.” 

“At you, dipshit.” 

Ellie can’t help herself. She takes one experimental glance in your direction; discovers you typing away at your device with a black mask pulled down under your chin, bottom lip trapped between your teeth with worry. Your apron and tiny name tag indicates you probably work somewhere close by, but she can’t pinpoint where. You’re too far and her vision is failing.

“Get her numbe—“

Ellie’s head whips to face Dina, “If you don’t shut up, you’re fired.” 

“Abuse of power,” She snarks in return, “C’mon! She seems so—“

“D-Do you guys have any acoustics for sale?” 

You’re a ninja, for sure. Both girls' heads snap around to face you — who stands a bit too close for Ellie’s liking — phone desperately clutched to your chest and eyes wide as a doe. Mainly locked with Ellie’s before they drop to your name tag.

Crumbl. 2 shops down. 

Fuck. 

“Why, yes!” Dina says excitedly when Ellie doesn’t reply, “Most of ours have been used, but they’re still in great condition. Are you interested in renting or purchasing?” 

“Purchasing… I think.” 

“No problem. I can show you some that we have on display, and if you don’t like those, we have some stocked in the back!” 

Ellie’s forehead creases. Dina has never been this active in making a sale, let alone interacting with any customers. Ellie is always the one who’s forced to pick up her and Riley’s slack in the shop. She catches the light traces of disappointment that overtakes your expression at Dina’s interjection, but eventually, you’re led over to the guitar displays.

Ellie sighs in relief. 

That brief exchange gave Ellie everything she needed to know. She doesn’t find gratification in denying proposals at work, but after months of being hit on by a multitude of customers — the men particularly piss her off— she’ll be as stern as she needs to be to get the point of denial across. Sure, it makes her look like a cunt to the general public, but she’ll take that over being chased after on the clock. No questions asked. 

Ellie assumes that you’ve found what you needed because on your way out, persistent stares are thrown in her direction up until your departure. She dodges them with mastery. 

She would hate to have to embarrass a strip neighbor. 

Three days later, you stumble upon the record shop once more. Dina isn’t here to save Ellie this time, and Riley’s passing time in the break room. Your uniform is lightly dusted with white, presumably flour, and your mask is down, phone clutched to your chest like it holds all your secrets.

Your mouth drops open around a small smile when you approach the service counter, but Ellie interrupts before you can greet her. 

“What can I help you with?” 

She assumed her annoyance would be guarded by professionalism, but your smile drops at its corners at her tone. A light flinch that Ellie prays is enough to deter you from spending your breaks here. 

It doesn’t. Your eyes still shine like the star that you aren’t. 

“I, um… I actually wanted to talk to you. If that’s okay—“

“Is it regarding the purchase you made a few days ago?” 

Dina slid Ellie a notice on the down payment you made for your used dreadnought since you weren’t able to pay in full. The scolding she received about “taking care of you” whenever you returned made her teeth grind together. 

“N-No. I just—“

“I’d appreciate it if we kept the conversation about that,” Ellie uses the scribbles on her notepad as a distraction, “Did you have any questions regarding the instrument? Or if you’re interested in taking part in the lessons we offer, I could redirect you to Riley. She’s in charge of—“

“I just wanted to see if you were… interested in sampling out some cookie flavors I came up with? I’m a baking and pastry student and—“

“Look,” The tip of Ellie’s tongue sharpens into her cheek, irritation evident when you two are eye-to-eye. “I’m not sure where this proposal is coming from, but frankly, I’m not interested.”

The drop in your expression doesn’t stop Ellie’s relentlessness. 

“I don’t know you, and I don’t know why you thought I’d be a good candidate for… taste-testing, but I’ll politely decline. No thanks.” 

Her declination doesn’t sound polite in the slightest; quite snippy and condescending from your perspective, and it forces your windpipe shut. Only for a second before a strangled gasp leaves your lips. You’re not sure if it’s out of shock or lack of breath, but it aches in your lungs all the same. 

Ellie’s glare sends holes through your back as you rush towards the exit, the small bell singing through the store and alarming your leave. 

All Ellie can hope is that you got the message. 

It’s a new week, and therefore, a new Crumbl cookie line-up. Dina won’t stop raving about the carrot-cake cookie which doesn’t resemble a cookie at all. It's tiered and way too soft and stacked with icing that’s sweet enough to rot teeth from the gum. 

It reminds Ellie of you, for some reason; Somehow still managing to be a nuisance without trying. 

Even more so now since Dina’s been using her 45 to walk down and see you. To talk to you. Dina has yet to cough up what about — not that Ellie cares. It’s just weird that you two suddenly have so much in common after knowing each other for all of two days maximum. Whenever Dina clocks back in, she tortures Ellie with dramatic retellings of your stories. 

It’s Thursday; a quiet day for the shop that Ellie uses to her advantage when the sun is at its peak. Searching through cheap magazines and playing Candy Crush on her phone. 

What a time for you to come barreling in. The formerly enjoyable shriek of guitar suddenly sounds like nails on a chalkboard at your appearance. No longer are you in all black. You’re in a sundress. An orange one. You look like a popsicle. 

And you bear gifts. Ellie’s mood turns even more sour when she sees two bright yellow gift bags with smiley faces on them and a tray filled with coffee stuffed in your hands. 

“Good morning!” 

You’re smiling, gleaming, and Ellie’s nose turns up. She plucks one of her earplugs out and closes her graphic novel. 

“How can I help you?” 

You set your bag down on the display case of her prized arch top, and she sighs in exasperation. Annoyance sparks when she notices one of the bags has her name on it, flowers and hearts and sparkles surrounding the tag. 

“Can you not put your belongings on the displays, please? I’d have to clean up after you since none of my employees will.” 

You’ve already moved your bags and exclaimed apologies before Ellie could finish her sentence. She’s seconds away from shoving her earplug back in to tune you out, but you’re fast. Persistent. She hates it.

“I’m really sorry about that,” You say gently, and Ellie shrugs you off, “I, um. I-I came to, uh…”

Ellie blinks rapidly, “If you’re here to apologize for last week, don’t bother. It’s not needed.” 

“Not at all! Well, I’m just… I wanted to drop by and—“

“You’ve gotten quite comfortable with just… dropping by. Have you realized that?” 

Ellie’s squint is harsh and scrutinizing, and sorrow overshadows the light in your pupils. 

“Since it’s obvious that you’re not understanding me, I’ll put it like this,” She leans a bit over the counter, front fully pressed against the glass and palms resting on the stainless steel, “I’m not interested in anything you have going on. Stop using your breaks as an excuse to come see me. I don’t wanna go out with you. And I don’t want to do a taste test. Drop it already.” 

Ellie watches your lip quiver with a harshness exclusive only for people like you, tears welting in your eyes and your fingers pinching at the hem of your sundress. Insecurity is practically seeping from your pores, and your gaze drops shamefully to the floor. 

Ellie’s just about to tell you to kick rocks when the STAFF ONLY door swings open and exposes Riley. Her break ended 20 minutes ago. 

“Hey! You’re early!” 

Ellie scoffs, “No, you’re late—“

“Not you. Be quiet,” She waves her off and smiles at you, who’s smiling back at her with guised genuity. A complete 180 from the you seconds ago. Since when were you and Riley on speaking terms? Friends?

She jogs from behind the stand, “Dina told me you weren’t coming til 3!” Riley throws her arms around your shoulders, and your hands tremble where they rest on her forearms. “Are those the goods?” 

“Yeah!” Your voice sounds heavy. Like you’re guarding a breakdown, “I-I had some time so I stopped by a little early.” 

“I got some to spare til Dee gets here. Hang out with m—“

“Actually!” You intervene shakily, “I have some other drop-offs to make. I really appreciate you guys doing this for me.” 

“Are you sure you can’t stay? Watch me get my Food Network judge on?” Riley suddenly points in Ellie’s direction, “Who knows. Sourpuss might even pop a grin once she tries one.” Ellie’s cheeks run red-hot.

“Sorry, Riley. Maybe next time,” You’re already wobbling towards the exit, “But, please call and tell me what you think! Dina, too! Any feedback is appreciated!” 

“I’m sure they’re delicious, Monster!” Riley compliments playfully, “Text me when you’re home!” 

When the door shuts, Ellie sees Riley’s back stiffen at the sight of you frantically wiping your face through the glass. 

“What the fuck did you do.” 

“I didn’t do shit. She’s loitering.” 

“Lo— Oh my fucking god, you’re an embarrassmen—“

“No, she is. Taking up space for no fucking reason to come and see me. She’s loitering—“

“You’re blowing a fuse over fucking cookie samples?” Riley stares at her like she’s nuts, “And not to burst your self-centered bubble, but I told her to come. She’s been asking all the stores on the block if they’d like to taste ‘em.”

Ellie pauses, expression softening only slightly when Riley continues, 

“I told her you don’t like chocolate, so she made a peanut butter version for you.” Riley shakes Ellie's special, slightly smaller bag as a means to taunt her, and the freckled girl’s face burns red. Glows even harsher when her friend throws in, “You cunt. She’s a sweetheart. Not everyone is fucking obsessed with you.” 

Riley leaves Ellie to simmer in her discomfort, slamming the break door shut. The day seems to drag on longer than usual. 

-

-

-

Ellie’s organizing the break room when she comes across her small baggie that Riley left behind. She would’ve expected her friend to take them home after Ellie’s dramatic blow up, but there it sat on the counter, untouched and jeering. 

Tempting enough for her to rest the broom against the counter and inspect its contents. Wafts of cinnamon and peanut butter hit her through the small opening of the bag, and her heart gives a squeeze. The cookie is iced to perfection — an entire scenery on the light brown canvas. So many flowers and trees and the blue hues of the sky; almost too much detail. It looks printed on. 

You’re artistically talented and the cookie smells divine. 

One nibble wouldn’t hurt. She’s sure the damage she caused is already irreversible. 

But when she cradles the carefully swaddled cookie, a small note falls from beneath the bunched cling wrap. She knows she shouldn’t. She should really, really leave the neatly folded piece of paper where it lays. Down the cookie. Trash the bag. 

She takes the cookie and the note back to her seat at the table. The cookie isn’t what she unravels first. 

“thought I’d make you a separate batch. Riley gave me the heads up about your chocolate disdain. I’m too paranoid to ask for your number in person, so I thought I’d use bait instead. I hope it’s convincing enough. Please let me know if it’s decent. Thank you for tasting.”

Signed with your name and a smiling heart with wings. Ellie’s heart shatters, remaining shards dangling from the rim of her ribcage. She can already see her friends glaring through her chest when they visit the apartment to berate her tomorrow morning. She already knows what they’re going to demand from her, but she’s three steps ahead. 

She ate the entire cookie in two bites right where she sat. It was delicious. Almondy, not too sweet, gently spiced. Probably the best she’s ever had.

Ellie has never been to Crumbl before. 

The viral spot is always bustling — too crowded and filled with loud teenagers with a sugar rush for her taste. Plus, she’s already on the clock when they first open. But the record shop is closed on Fridays. 

She put an extra bit of care into her appearance. She doesn’t recall the last time she did her hair. Half of it is pinned up and her button-up is neatly pressed. Jitters rustle in the pit of her stomach and her forehead is a bit damp, mainly because she can see you through the goddamn window. 

In uniform, you stand at the register with the same beaming smile from last week, talking and giggling with your coworkers, and Ellie instantly feels guilty. Your day seems off to a great start, and here she is… About to ruin it. She almost turned around at the thought. 

But the small bell above the door blares loud, and your bright smile drops once you recognize her, and with that, her stomach. Ellie mentally notes the bags forming under your eyes and the tension in your shoulders. It looks like you haven’t rested for days. Her heart squeezes. 

Your movements turn robotic; stiffly perched on the sides of the iPad stand as your thumb works on the screen. You haven’t looked Ellie’s way since. She approaches the counter with her tail between her legs, fidgeting with her middle finger. 

“Um… hey.” Ellie’s quiet. Out of place. Afraid. 

“What can I get for you?” 

Even with the stiffness, you somehow still manage to sound as soft as a cotton ball, but Ellie’s body locks. The scenario hits her like a brick wall; she’s doing exactly what she accused you of doing to her last week. Bothering her at fucking work. She should’ve never come to your place of business to coddle her ego. She feels like a hypocrite. You certainly see her as one. 

“Um… A cookie?”

“… What flavor.” 

“Uh… peanut butter?” 

You swallow thickly, voice hollow, “That’s not on the menu for this week,” You point towards the display of cookies that were big enough to feed a family, “These are the six we’re serving until Sunday. You can also look at the menu on the screen.” 

Ellie follows your pointing finger. How the fuck does this place work? Weekly flavors? What the fuck does that mean? She quickly examines the names of cookies that flash across the screen: raspberry cheesecake, pink velvet… Mom’s recipe? Odd name for a dessert but she lets it slide. 

“W-What’s your favorite?” 

You’re a baker, for fucks sake. You’d have better taste than anyone, better than her, she’d painfully admit. 

She watches your fingers clench around the screen, tapping mindlessly. 

“Um… raspberry cheesecake.” 

“I’ll get a dozen.” 

“O-Of the same flavor?” 

She shrugs like it’s obvious, “… Yup.” 

You give her one skeptic look before tapping at the screen. “It might be a little wait. About 15 minutes. Do you mind?” 

“No.” 

“Cash or card?” 

“Card, please.” 

More tapping, “That’ll be $41.65. Swipe or tap whenever you're ready.” 

A financial dent over a box of cookies was not on her bucket list. You hand her the receipt, and before you can rush to the kitchen, Ellie exclaims, “When’s your break?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“W— um, when’s your break?” 

Your coworkers are suddenly very interested in Ellie, all four of them eyeing her like venomous hawks. Her cheeks burst into flames. 

“Um… I don’t think that’s any of your concern.” 

And you’re right. Anything involving you is short on Ellie; it was never her business, but a burning in the pit of her stomach desires to learn. Needs to catch you at the right time to give you a proper apology even though she doesn’t deserve the time of day. She doesn’t know what to say. 

You use her floundering as a scapegoat and hustle behind the slamming doors. Just as Ellie rushes to leave empty-handed, one of your employees — Abigail reads across her name-tag, keeps professional, but Ellie’s skin burns with the fire in her eyes. 

“We’ll have those right out for you,” monotone, but gruff. It makes Ellie wonder if you told any of them about her — she doesn’t doubt it. 

“You can wait outside.” 

One stiff nod, and Ellie’s booking it until her feet plant on the packed sidewalk, nearly bumping into a couple with interlocked hands. It takes 25 minutes for the box of cookies to be rigidly placed on the lounge table by another employee. Ellie scurries into her truck with a boiling face and pulls out into the road. 

When she makes it to her apartment, she eats three mini cheesecakes in one sitting.

She sees why they’re your favorite. 

The following week was filled with glares and curses from Dina and Riley — your newfound friends, evidently. They have a way of making Ellie feel like a worthless dunce. They both have rubbed in the tales of you being a thrill to be around; the life of the party whenever they hang out. 

It makes her nauseous. And sad. 

But her sadness swiftly shifts to bewilderment when she catches you smoking near a lamppost after closing. Still in your uniform with a bag over your shoulder, pants dusted in white, proof of your labor. It’s dark out, the only illumination coming from the light stood tall above you and the orange gleam of your cigarette. The sight shocks her. You didn’t seem like the type. 

Maybe that’s where Ellie went wrong with you: constantly assuming… who you are. Your desires, your intentions with her, her friends. She’ll admit her wrongs, of course. 

But it has to be to you. 

Ellie scares you when she approaches, inhaling the nicotine a bit too roughly because you start heaving. Shoulders hunched and jumping with every cough. 

“Uh — fuck, I’m sorry! I-I thought you could see me coming! I didn’t mean — fuck —“

You’re still choking, but you hiss in between, “What the fuck do you want!” 

“I’m just — I’m sorry about —“

“You’re not — cough — you’re not sorry! You made your point clear. I don’t why you keep — cough cough — following me. I left you alone like you wanted!” 

“I DON’T WANT THAT!” Ellie shrieks in panic. 

It’s a heavy-handed admission. A weighted confession that was said too aggressively given your flinching away from her. She takes an instinctive step forward. 

“Your cookies… tasted fucking incredible. I’m also an asshole.” 

The drag you take from your cig while she rambles is almost comedic. Brows cinched at the middle of your forehead, gauging her. You’re not convinced, but you’re not fleeing like the first time. She takes a leap, and a large step towards you. 

“I feel really… really bad,” Ellie’s much quieter, eyes unwavering and the softest she’s ever shown you, “I shouldn’t have… said all that. To you. I’m just so used to being harassed at work. I’m sorry.” 

Maybe nicotine calms you. Your body language isn’t as taut compared to when Ellie first initiated conversation, and your eyes soften at her reasoning. 

The rasp from your timbre melts her skin like butter. “I didn’t know you went through that. That sucks.”

Ellie shrugs, “I didn’t know you were… nice.” 

She made the mistake of attempting playfulness, “Maybe ‘cuz you wouldn’t let me talk.” You snark while ashing. 

“I’m sorry.” Ellie implores. 

You take one last drag before stomping out the flame. “Me too. For bothering you.” 

Ellie cringes at your choice of words, but nods in acceptance. “Are we, uh… okay, now?”

A small smile grows on your face. It’s cute. Makes your cheeks puff out like a hungry squirrel. 

“We’re good.” You extend a fist out to her, and she connects her own at the knuckles. 

When they drop, Ellie nervously stares at her shoes, “Do you want a ride home?” 

“I’m alright, thanks.” 

“C’mon, I don’t want you waiting out here by yourself.”

You pause before asking, “What’s the catch?” Your brow arches mischievously.

Ellie doesn’t hesitate, “More of those cookies.” 

A giggle escapes you. Soft and airy like a feather. Ellie feels a tight clench in her chest. A thumping from her ribcage. Has your smile always been this vibrant? She mentally kicks herself for not noticing before. 

Ellie escorts you to the passenger's side of her passed down pick-up: opens the door for you and makes sure you’re buckled in before starting it up. She learns you’re a metalhead when she cranks the radio to the highest volume. 

… How quickly can crushes develop? 

Two months. Ellie’s spent two months finding every excuse to spend time with you. She welcomes your visits to the record shop and silently thanks the heavens above when you call after her shift to talk about your day. Listening to your rambles about customers and their weekly cookies has become the highlight of hers. 

She’s also found comfort in watching you fail at playing guitar. You’re adorable whenever you strike an incorrect chord or break a string. She’s more than willing to guide you through your trials: late-night invites to her apartment to practice. One of your goals was to learn how to play the entire Vanara soundtrack. 

Ellie assumed she simply enjoyed being in your space. She does, but something shifted between you during one specific session. It was past midnight, and Ellie could tell you were getting tired. She innocently suggested for you to spend the night so you wouldn’t have to Uber at such a late hour, and you graciously accepted her offer. When you started to get comfortable on the couch, she tuts in disapproval and invited you to share her bed because it was more comfortable. 

What a mistake. 

After showering and changing into comfortable clothes, you both crawled into bed and swiftly drifted off. When Ellie’s eyes opened the following morning, her heart immediately traveled up to sit in her throat. If anyone told her she’d wake up with you completely sprawled out on top of her with your warm breath hitting her neck and her arms wrapped around you, she wouldn’t have believed them. She was completely frozen beneath you, but not for the reason she’d assumed. 

Ellie was scared to wake you up. Ellie was scared you would move away from her. 

She was pulled between waking you up and pulling you even closer. You were soft and warm and you smelled like her cinnamon body wash. A literal human cookie. She caressed your back as delicately as she could, and you nuzzled into her shoulder with every swipe. She hoped the harsh thrashes from her heart wouldn’t disturb you. 

They didn’t. 

You took a piece of Ellie when you left her apartment that morning. She’s not sure which part you stole, but she hasn’t felt the same since then. A pull towards you that’s electric, sparks her to life, keeps her up at night. Whenever you’re away, at work, not next to her, she’s desperate to pull you close. To breathe in the natural scent of you. 

Evidently, crushes develop rather quickly. 

“I thought baking was supposed to be fun.” Ellie huffs from where she lays on her bed. 

“It is fun! My favorite past-time, actually,” She watches you pace around her bedroom, guitar still strapped securely around your shoulder, “It’s just stressful when you have chefs constantly breathing down your neck. It’s so hard to be creative because they nitpick everything.” 

Creating a menu is much harder than Ellie assumed. She’s become the person you’ve come to whenever you’re fired up from classes, ranting and raving about the apparent dickheads that judge your creations. After testing your recipes for as long as she has, how could anyone turn down a dessert from you? 

You’re such a hard-worker. Focused, determined… pretty when you’re brainstorming. Pretty when you’re talking… Pretty when you’re smiling. Standing. Staring off into the distance. 

“Hm.” 

It’s all Ellie can say. She’s been trying to mask her rampant stares at your bare thighs for the past… however the fuck long. They look so soft. So pliable. So easy to stretch and pry and yank at— 

Her guilty pleasure went from collecting Pokémon cards to gawking at your legs whenever you wear shorts. 

Ellie’s definitely crushing. 

Crushing very, very hard. 

OCTOBER PASSED ME BY

pairings - universityex!ellie x fem!reader

genre - university au, angst, fluff

synopsis: after your best friend persuades you to take a break from studying and attend a party, you unexpectedly come face-to-face with your ex, stirring up unresolved emotions. by the end of the night, you find yourself heading home with more than just a brief escape from your studies.

tw: mentions of alcohol, reader goes to a frat party, mild swearing (not sure if that's a warning but sure), nothing majorly serious

word count: 4.7K

you were the first to make me feel like i was me just a memory

⟡

i met you at the wrong time, didn't wanna see i was busy with the stars, you were looking at me

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

The heavy rain pattering against the stained window is the only sound reverberating around the room, though you pay no mind as your focus remains fixed on your textbooks and scattered notes. Dark circles weigh under your eyes, and your lips curl into a tired frown. With a weary sigh, you bury your face in your hands, fingers tangling in your already disheveled hair.

Finals are right around the corner, and for weeks, your dorm has become your entire world. Days blur together as you devour textbooks, trying to memorize every word like it’s second nature.

"What the f—"

"Which dress is better?"

You flinch, startled by the sudden interruption. Your head jerks up, disoriented, the voice yanking you out of the storm of thoughts swirling in your mind.

“What?” Your voice is hoarse from disuse—a reminder that you hadn’t spoken since waking up. Like every other morning, your first instinct had been to dive straight back into studying.

Turning in your chair, your face softens slightly from its earlier concentrated state when you spot your roommate and best friend, Audrey, standing in the middle of the room. She’s holding up two hangers, one in each hand. On one hangs a thigh-length light pink silk dress, while the other holds a long white bodycon dress.

You tilt your head, considering, before a chuckle escapes. “What happened to that ridiculous glittery miniskirt you bought last weekend?”

“For the billionth time, they’re sequins,” Audrey groans, rolling her eyes with mock exasperation. She sets the dresses down on your rumpled bed, then plants her hands on her hips, brow furrowed as she envisions the outfits. “Besides, I couldn’t find a top to match.”

“Oh, come on,” you scoff, leaning back in your chair with crossed arms. “You’d look good in a garbage bag.”

"Sure, yeah, and pigs can fly." Audrey quips, picking up the dresses and moving to the full-length mirror beside your desk. She holds each one against her body, lips pursed in thought as she weighs her options.

"What's the occasion, anyway?" you ask, pulling your legs up to rest your feet on the chair, leaning your elbows against your knees.

"Carter’s throwing a party." She glances at you briefly, then holds up the pink dress, clearly having made her choice. "I wanna see if he’s single. If he is, I’ll make a move. Can’t keep pining over that blond guy I saw at the campus café last week. But I heard Carter’s been hooking up with Darcy."

"Wasn't she with Dylan?"

"No, that was Daphne."

"Why do all their names start with a 'D'?"

Audrey sighs dramatically, shaking her head. "Don’t know. They might be running some kind of secret alliteration cult."

With a laugh, you turn back to your desk, lowering your legs as the brief moment of lightheartedness fades and reality settles in. Your smile vanishes, replaced by the familiar weight of exhaustion. Right, you think to yourself. Back to the endless black hole of studying.

"Hey, you should come." Audrey's voice pulls you from your thoughts again. You turn to see her standing with the pink dress draped over one arm, a playful but earnest look on her face. "You haven’t left the dorm in ages. Come on, it’ll be fun."

"I don't know, Auds. I just... There's so much work to do, and—"

"Exactly! That’s why you need a break," she interrupts, crossing her arms in defiance. "You need a good distraction. And who knows? Maybe you’ll find a decent rebound to replace—"

"No."

Your voice is sharper than you intended, and the air between you shifts. Your brows knit together as a scowl tugs at your lips. "I don’t do rebounds. And I don’t need one. I’m over her."

Audrey raises a skeptical brow. "You say that, but you’ve been single for the entire year you two have been broken up."

"Yeah, and?" You shrug, the defensive edge softening slightly. "That doesn’t have to be a bad thing. I just… needed the time and space to, I don’t know, feel the breakup."

You sigh, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knees. Your voice dips, quiet but unwavering. "We dated all through high school, Auds. We planned everything—college, careers, our whole life together. Then, one night, it was just… gone. I needed that break."

"I get it. No need for a rebound, then." Audrey’s lips curve into a warm smile as she gathers her wavy blonde hair, twisting it into a messy bun. She picks up the pink dress and heads toward the door, pausing to glance back at you. "I’m gonna go put my outfit on and do my makeup. But think about it, okay? I’d have more fun if you were there."

Her voice softens, the playful edge replaced by genuine concern. "I hate seeing you so groggy and drained over finals. You deserve a break."

With that, she disappears into the bathroom, leaving you alone with her words lingering in the air.

You prop your elbow on the desk, resting your chin in your palm as the decision weighs on you. What would you even wear? A quick mental inventory of your closet makes you groan. You’d gone a little too wild during the autumn sale at the mall, leaving your wardrobe overflowing with beige and brown sweaters—not exactly party material. Dresses? Practically nonexistent.

And besides, it's 8 PM on a Friday—you could really use a change of pace.

You let out a frustrated sigh, but it quickly turns into a chuckle. Audrey’s words must’ve gotten to you, because before you realize it, you’re pushing yourself out of your chair. The creak of the worn seat makes you certain it’s practically engraved a permanent imprint of your ass.

You stretch briefly, shaking out your legs, then make your way toward Audrey’s room. Maybe she’ll have something I like. You’re not exactly thrilled about diving into her wardrobe—her style is bold, flashy, and a little outside your comfort zone—but desperate times call for desperate measures.

When the bathroom door opens and shuts, you smile to yourself and stride over to lean casually against Audrey's doorframe. She looks up, raising her brows in surprise before a smirk tugs at her lips.

"Decided you’d go, huh?" she says, her tone teasing but approving. "You're so stubborn, sometimes."

"I’m not getting drunk, though," you say, crossing your arms as Audrey adjusts her earrings. "And I’m not changing my mind on that. Study routine starts back up tomorrow morning, and I don’t need a hangover slowing me down."

Audrey gives you an exaggerated eye roll but doesn’t argue, a playful grin spreading across her face.

You glance down at the long forest green dress you’re wearing, the silky fabric hugging your figure comfortably. A deep slit runs up one side, stopping at mid-thigh and adding just enough elegance to the look. You adjust the hem slightly, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling up. Maybe this night wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.

"Drunk guy about to vomit, coming through!"

The announcement has your eyes widening as you quickly move out of the way to let the drunk guy and his friend, who’s half-carrying him, pass by—probably headed for the bathroom.

You cling to Audrey's side, linking your arms together as you laugh. "We just got here, and people are already throwing up?"

She chuckles, shaking her head. "Oh, babe, you haven't seen anything yet. Frat parties are the definition of pure insanity."

The deafening music blares even louder as you step into the main room, bodies pressed together as they sway and jump to the beat. Some throw their hands up in the air, fully immersed in the chaos of the party.

Your eyes scan the room, landing on the stereotypical beer pong table surrounded by a pack of guys locked in a heated game.

"Where's your boyfriend?" you tease, nudging Audrey. Her cheeks flush slightly—a subtle reminder of her true reason for coming tonight, aside from giving you a distraction.

"Not my boyfriend," she corrects, flipping her hair off her shoulder. "At least not yet. But that’s not why we’re here." She turns to you, a mischievous smile curling on her lips as she grabs your hands. "You're here to have fun, got it?" she shouts over the music.

With a grin, you extend your arms up above your head, body swaying to the beat of the music. Audrey laughs, mimicking your movements with exaggerated flair, her hands on her hips.

"Yes! Who knew you could move like that, girl?" she yells, wooing loudly before twirling you around. The two of you almost crash into a random guy.

"Careful. The last thing I need is this guy hitting on me then saying he can ‘turn me straight’ when I reject him," you quip, placing your hands on Audrey’s shoulders as you keep dancing.

Time flies as you chat and dance with a few girls from your friend group, whom you ran into coincidentally. An hour melts away unnoticed until a wave of murmurs ripples through the crowd, followed by sharp screams. Your attention shifts, and you spot Carter entering the room, his arm slung around a girl who looks like she was sculpted out of plastic, clinging to him like a lifeline.

You glance at Audrey, noticing the frown darkening her face. A wave of empathy crashes over you. "It’s okay. He’ll probably dump her by the end of the night, and then you’ll have him all to yourself," you say with a gentle smile.

Audrey scoffs, her scowl giving way to a pointedly condescending look. "Fuck him," she snaps. "I’m not wasting my time on some man-whore. I’ve got options."

A proud grin spreads across your face, but when your eyes flicker back to where Carter stood, your smile falters. He’s gone. In his place stands a silhouette that makes your stomach drop and your heart stop cold.

Panic surges through you as your breath quickens. Sasha, one of your friends, notices. "Hey, are you okay?" she asks, concern evident in her voice.

You stumble, grabbing Audrey’s arm. "I need to go. Now," you mumble, tugging her toward a quieter corner. She furrows her brows but stays silent, waiting for you to speak.

"I just... fuck, Auds, I just saw her," you finally manage, your voice trembling.

"And?" Audrey raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. "I thought you were 'over her.'" She emphasizes her point with air quotes.

"I thought I was too." Tears prick at your eyes like needles as you drop your gaze to the floor. "It's been a year, Audrey. Why am I not over her yet?"

Audrey’s expression softens at the crack in your voice. She pulls you into a tight hug, her hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. "I’m so sorry, honey. You don’t deserve this."

You cling to her, letting your head rest on her shoulder. After a moment, Audrey pulls away, her eyes filled with determination. "No wallowing," she declares firmly. "You’re here to have fun, whether she’s here or not. It’s your second year of college, hun. Live it up and don’t let the past ruin your night."

With a chuckle, you wipe away the tears threatening to spill, careful not to smudge your makeup, and nod firmly. "You’re right. I’m here to take a well-deserved break, and I’m not letting some ex get in the way."

Spinning on your heels, you barely manage to stop yourself as you come face-to-face with the very person haunting your thoughts. A gasp escapes your lips, and your hand flies up to cover your mouth.

She takes a deliberate step to the side, clearing your path. Her tone is tinged with arrogance as she says, "What? I got out of your way. Isn’t that what you wanted?" Her brows knit slightly, her mouth pressed into a thin, unreadable line.

"I didn't... I just—"

"Come on, Y/N. Let's go." Audrey loops her arm through yours, her grip firm as she pulls you away. Her glare cuts through your ex like a blade, sharp and unwavering.

Audrey had always liked her when the two of you were together, but after the breakup, all those sentiments had evaporated. Now, there was nothing but icy disdain in her gaze, a silent reminder of how things had gone south.

"That was so embarrassing, oh my God," you mutter, your wide eyes reflecting your inner turmoil as you and Audrey walk back into the main room. Heading straight for the kitchen, you rub your temples, trying to soothe the headache forming. Without a second thought, you grab the bottle of vodka from the counter and reach for a shot glass.

"Hey, no!" Audrey snatches the bottle from your grip, holding it just out of reach. "You promised you weren't gonna drink tonight. She's so not worth the hangover."

You let out a long sigh, leaning against the counter with a defeated shrug. "Yeah, I know." You pause, a frustrated exhale escaping your lips. "I just can't stop thinking about... God, the fucking breakup. Everything. We weren't supposed to just throw it all away over some stupid reason. I miss her, Auds."

Audrey shakes her head. "No, you don't. You miss the memories, not her. There's a difference." She places the bottle and shot glass back on the counter, then grabs your shoulders firmly, pulling you closer so you’re forced to meet her gaze. Her eyes are intense, unwavering. "Listen, you're only remembering the good parts. It's your mind playing tricks on you."

You sigh again, leaning heavily against the counter as the frustration in your voice rises. "We never had any bad times, though. Just the breakup." Your voice cracks slightly, betraying the emotions you'd been holding back. "It was good—she was good. It just... ended, and I don't even know why anymore."

Audrey's grip on your shoulders tightens gently, her expression unwavering. "Exactly, babe. That’s the part you're stuck on. You’re romanticizing it because you don’t have the full picture anymore. Breakups hurt, even the ones that make sense, but that doesn’t mean you should let the past keep pulling you back. You deserve better than this."

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "Do I? Because right now, it feels like I’m the one who messed it all up. Like maybe I wasn’t enough for her."

Audrey softens, pulling you into a hug before you can spiral any further. "Don’t do that. Don’t tear yourself apart over what happened. You’re enough—more than enough. And if she couldn’t see that, that’s on her, not you."

You bury your face in her shoulder, her steady reassurance grounding you for a moment. When you finally pull away, her determined gaze meets yours again. "You’re here to have fun, right? Not to relive the past. So let’s leave her back there where she belongs and get you back out there."

You nod hesitantly, letting her words sink in. "You’re right," you say softly, trying to muster a smile. "She’s not worth ruining my night over."

"Exactly," Audrey says with a grin, looping her arm through yours. "Now, come on. Let’s show this party what you’re made of."

You saunter back to the designated dance floor, forcing a grin as the music thumps through your chest, trying to shake off the earlier interaction. Sasha joins in beside you, her blonde, shoulder-length hair bouncing as she jumps and twirls to the beat. The faint brown of her roots begins to show, a faint reminder of the dye job she got two months ago.

Your friend Maeve stumbles into your line of sight, mimicking a ridiculous move, and you laugh despite yourself, grateful for the temporary distraction.

But then your gaze drifts, almost instinctively, to one corner of the room. There she is—your ex—leaning against the wall with that infuriatingly effortless coolness. And beside her, some brunette is clearly making a move, leaning in closer with every passing second.

You freeze, the air knocked out of you as if someone had punched your chest. A bitter scoff escapes your lips, shaking your head in disbelief. You swallow hard, the knot in your stomach twisting tighter, and mutter under your breath, "Of course."

It's as if something takes over you, a force compelling you to pull Sasha closer. You lean in and whisper urgently, "I need a favor. Please, just go with it. I'll explain later—don’t ask questions."

She blinks, her brows knitting together in confusion. "What are you—"

Before she can finish, your lips crash onto hers. She gasps in surprise but quickly responds, her hands finding your waist as the crowd erupts in cheers and whistles. You wrap your arms around her shoulders, leaning into the kiss as it deepens, your tongue brushing against hers. The world around you blurs, drowned out by the roaring excitement of onlookers.

Pulling away, you chuckle softly, your breath mingling with Sasha's as you glance around the room. The crowd is buzzing, their gazes locked on you—some bewildered, others clearly displeased.

But your attention quickly shifts, your eyes landing on Ellie.

Her gaze is piercing, burning through the room with an intensity that makes your stomach flip. The girl beside her tugs at her arm, desperate for attention, but Ellie barely spares her a glance. Instead, she scoffs, her jaw tightening as she shrugs off the girl’s grip.

Without a word, she turns on her heel, shoving past people as she storms toward the front door. The slam echoes through the house, leaving a charged silence in its wake.

You bite your lip, nerves flickering beneath your confident facade, and glance over at Audrey, who bursts into laughter, still processing what just happened. "You did not," she exclaims, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Thanks, Sasha. You're an absolute lifesaver." You flash her a grin, ignoring the bewildered look on her face as your gaze shifts toward the door Ellie just slammed shut. A swell of pride rises in your chest, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. For better or worse, you had gotten her attention.

After some time, you eventually say your goodbyes to your friends, including Audrey. You decide to leave early, your social battery completely drained. Audrey stays behind, her energy seemingly endless, as she's far more used to these party scenes.

Grabbing your black purse, you head for the door and step outside. Your brows lift in mild surprise when you spot Ellie sitting on the steps, her back to you. The only light comes from the moon and the soft glow of her phone screen. Silently, you move closer, glancing over her shoulder to see her engrossed in a silly dinosaur game.

A quiet chuckle escapes your lips as you tilt your head, watching her affectionately. She hasn’t changed a bit.

"I know you're standing behind me, Y/N. You're not slick."

Or maybe she has.

You sigh, moving to sit beside her on the step. The tension between you is thick and the weight of the moment feels suffocating, each second dragging like an eternity. “I wasn’t trying to... I didn’t mean what I said the way you thought I did.” The words tumble out, and you wring your hands nervously.

“I’ve just been so distracted with finals, and Audrey finally convinced me to leave our dorm to take a break. You being here... it just caught me off guard, and—” You groan, burying your face in your hands. “God, I should really stop talking.”

"Yeah, you should," she mutters, shaking her head as she pockets her phone and fixes her gaze on her shoes. Red Converse, the ones with doodles scrawled across the front. You recognize them instantly—they’re the pair you gave her for her birthday last year, covered in your handiwork. You can’t help but remember the laugh that erupted from her chest when your doodling spree ended with you drawing a Sharpie mustache on her face.

The memory tugs at you, bittersweet and unshakable. You pull your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and resting your chin on your forearm. "Still obsessed with dinosaurs?"

Her lips twitch, almost forming a smile. "Went to class in a dino costume once," she says, leaning back on her elbows with a casual ease.

Finally, her eyes meet yours, lingering as they trace over your face, your hair, and the way the dress clings to your body. She doesn't say it, but you can see it—the flicker of admiration she's trying to bury. "Pretty sure that says it all," she adds with a shrug, but the way her gaze softens betrays her indifference.

You tilt your head back, gazing up at the sprawling constellations scattered across the night sky, their brilliance stirring a quiet joy in your chest. Lowering your gaze, your eyes follow the gentle sway of the trees in the rising wind, their movement mirrored in the cool breeze brushing against your bare shoulders. A sudden chill ripples through you, sending a shiver down your spine—until something warm and familiar settles over you, enveloping you in its comforting embrace.

Glancing down, you realize it’s a jacket, worn and soft, smelling faintly of Ellie’s cologne. You look up, meeting her gaze with a hint of confusion.

“What?” she mutters, a faint scoff escaping her lips as she leans back again, feigning nonchalance. “Can’t let you get hypothermia.”

But there’s something in her tone—subtle, unspoken, and tender—that makes your chest tighten.

You slip it on, the warmth instantly comforting, before glancing back at her. “You’ll get cold, though.”

Ellie tilts her head, a pointed look settling on her face. “Right, because you forgot about my absolute freezer of a dorm. Felt like I was living in fucking Antarctica. Might as well have been an igloo.”

For the first time tonight, she chuckles—a soft, genuine sound that tugs at something deep inside you. Her smile is the same as it’s always been, the one you hadn’t realized just how much you’d missed. It almost makes you smile too, but the weight of everything unsaid lingers between you, dimming your brief moment of joy.

Your grin falters, a sigh slipping out as you lower your gaze. “What went wrong between us?”

The question hangs in the air, raw and vulnerable, carrying the weight of everything you’ve been too afraid to ask until now.

Her shoulders slump as her heartbeat quickens, the weight of the moment settling heavily between you. This wasn’t the kind of conversation she expected to have tonight—especially not with you. “You really wanna go there?” she asks, her voice low and hesitant as she leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees, legs spread slightly in a relaxed stance that betrays her inner turmoil.

You nod, your gaze steady and unwavering. “I need to know, Ellie. It’s been eating at me for a year.”

She exhales sharply, her eyes dropping to the concrete beneath her feet, as if it holds the answers she’s been avoiding. “I was in a bad place,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “I couldn’t handle a relationship anymore. I didn’t want to leave, but staying would’ve hurt you even more.”

Her words hang in the air like a weight, the raw honesty cracking through the wall of confusion you’ve carried since the breakup.

Your breath catches as her words sink in. You’ve spent so much time replaying the breakup in your mind, blaming yourself, thinking maybe you had done something wrong, and now hearing this explanation leaves you unsure of how to feel. Relief? Frustration? Sadness?

"You didn't think I deserved to know that back then?" you ask, your voice trembling slightly as you try to keep your composure.

Ellie finally looks at you, guilt flickering in her eyes. "I didn’t know how to say it. I thought... I thought it’d be easier if you hated me. That way, you'd move on."

You shake your head, a dry laugh escaping. "Easier for who? Because it sure as hell wasn’t easy for me."

She runs a hand through her auburn hair, tugging at the strands like she’s punishing herself. "I know. I messed up. I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn't know I hurt you this bad."

The air feels heavy between you, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. You pull the jacket tighter around yourself, searching her face for sincerity. All you find is regret.

You sit in silence, though it feels like an eternity. The quiet is only broken by the rhythmic tapping of Ellie’s shoe against the concrete, her leg bouncing nervously.

"Do you regret it?"

"Regret what?"

"Breaking up with me?"

Your voice is steady, but your chest tightens as you glance up at her, bracing yourself for an answer you’re not ready to hear. Bittersweet nostalgia churns within you as you watch her intently, trying to decipher her expression.

Ellie averts her gaze, focusing on the trees swaying in the breeze and the students passing by—some clutching textbooks, others laughing as they shove their friends playfully. "You kissed that girl," she mutters, her tone laced with accusation. "Looked pretty cozy to me."

"You still didn’t answer my question."

Ellie’s jaw tightens as she finally turns to face you, her eyes sharp and conflicted. "What the fuck am I supposed to say?" she snaps, her voice rising. "It’s been a year, Y/N. What’s my explanation gonna change?"

You rise abruptly and descend the steps, shooting her a sharp glare as your jaw clenches tight. The rain pelts against your skin, but you barely notice, too consumed by the storm raging inside you. "At least I’d finally get the fucking closure I need to move on," you bite out, your voice cracking under the weight of your frustration. "I haven’t been able to date anyone else because of you. Every time I try, it feels like I’m betraying something that’s not even there anymore—"

"I don’t want you with anyone else," she interrupts, her voice cutting through the night with a raw, unyielding edge. Her arms cross defensively over her chest as she steps toward you, her posture tense.

You scoff, throwing your hands up. "So, what? I’m just supposed to stay single forever? Never move on, just because you don’t want me with anyone else?"

"That’s not what I meant!" she retorts, her voice cracking slightly.

"Then what the fuck do you—"

Before you can finish, Ellie closes the distance between you, her lips crashing onto yours in an ardent, desperate kiss. It’s urgent, almost reckless, yet it feels natural—your mouths moving together in sync, reigniting a passion you hadn’t felt in over a year.

You gasp softly but instinctively kiss her back, your arms sliding around her shoulders as hers settle on your waist, tugging you impossibly closer, as if letting go would mean losing you forever. A muffled moan escapes into her mouth when your fingers tangle in her hair, tugging lightly.

Her hands drift lower, skimming over your back before settling firmly on your hips, grounding you both in the heat of the moment.

After a moment, she pulls back, both of you breathless, your foreheads lightly touching as your frantic eyes lock. A small chuckle slips out as you lower your gaze, your hands sliding down her shoulders and chest to wrap securely around her torso, pulling her into a warm hug.

"Shit, I’ve missed you," you murmur into her chest, your voice laced with quiet relief as her familiar scent fills your senses. You sigh contentedly when her arms tighten around you, enveloping you in the embrace you’d longed for.

"I’ve missed you too, pretty girl," she whispers, her voice soft but steady, carrying the weight of unspoken emotions.

When you first arrived at the party, all you wanted was a chance to unwind. Now, looking back, a simple break was far from what you ended up with—but what you got was so much more.

Ellie Williams is back in your life.