I’m Not Sure If You Do Horror But Can You Do A Horror One Like Scream Themed Or Any Horror Movie

Do you ever save the songs from your song reqs?

I DOOOOOO

I literally have a whole Spotify playlist dedicated to song recs people send me:))) I like listening to it. It's extremely disorganized but who cares

yall have good music taste fr

Can we please have yandere Ellie

To Be Near You - ellie williams x reader

hi anon! i wasnt sure if you wanted headcannons or a fic, but lmk if i should do seomething else instead. I hope you enjoy:)

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

requests are open, send me songs or your silly ideas:)

HUGE WARNING: Yandere behavior, obsessive thoughts, emotional manipulation, stalking, slow burn, psychological themes, implied torture, confinement, disturbing intimacy, kidnapping

Summary: Ellie was quiet at first, just watching from the background — protective, helpful, always there. But her interest wasn’t harmless. What began as care turned into control, and slowly, you realized she was never going to let you go. Even when you stopped fighting, her obsession only grew stronger.

masterlist

This story contains dark and emotionally intense themes—please read with care. You are responsible for what you consume online. Please read the warnings before reading.

Ellie didn’t remember when it started—when you became the only person she thought about. Maybe it was that time you sat two rows ahead of her in biology, your head tilted slightly, scribbling so fast in your notebook she thought smoke might rise from the page. Or maybe it was when you laughed at something stupid the professor said, that quiet little snort that made her chest feel too tight.

It didn’t matter. All Ellie knew was that you were hers—even if you didn’t know it yet.

She wasn’t stupid. She didn’t approach you like some lovesick idiot. No, she watched. Observed. She knew your routines down to the minute. Mondays, you always bought the cheap coffee from the cart near the arts building. Wednesdays, you skipped your last class and sat alone under the fig tree near the library with a book in your lap, legs crossed, headphones in. You always listened to that sad indie shit, the kind that made Ellie feel like your soul was a snow globe someone had shaken too hard.

She memorized the curve of your neck when you tied your hair up. The way you rubbed your thumb against your phone case when you were nervous. The way you always said “thank you” to the cleaning staff. You were good. Pure. You didn’t belong in a world like this—surrounded by people who wouldn’t protect you the way Ellie would.

So she started small. A bump in the hallway. An apologetic smile. The “accidental” sighting at your favorite coffee spot. She watched the way your eyes lit up when someone remembered your name. She made sure to say it just loud enough that you’d hear it from behind you in line—like it had only just occurred to her. “Oh, hey, y/n, right?”

You smiled. And Ellie’s obsession twisted tighter.

She told herself she’d wait. That she’d earn your trust. That you’d come to her in time, love her the way she already loved you—desperately, painfully. But every time she saw you talking to someone else, laughing too loud with some guy in class, her hands clenched in her jacket pockets until her nails drew blood.

She followed you home twice. Not close—never too close. She just needed to see. Needed to know you were safe. That no one had touched you. That you were still hers, even if you didn’t realize it yet.

And then came the night she saw you crying on your porch, phone to your ear, voice shaking as you muttered, “It’s just been a lot lately.”

That night, Ellie sat awake in bed until 4 a.m., writing a letter she never sent. She had to be careful. She didn’t want to scare you. Not yet.

But you needed her. You’d always needed her.

And Ellie would wait. Quiet. Patient. Because love like this—raw and unshakable—wasn't something people found in this world anymore.

She just had to make you see it.

The first time Ellie spoke to you, really spoke to you, was when she “accidentally” sat next to you in the library.

You were curled up near the window, highlighters scattered across your table like candy. Your brows were furrowed, a half-finished smoothie sweating beside your laptop. You looked stressed, overwhelmed, and so goddamn beautiful in your chaos that Ellie could hardly breathe.

She slid into the seat beside you like it wasn’t calculated. Like she hadn’t waited for this exact time and day, tracked when you usually studied alone here. Her notebook hit the table with a soft thud, and you looked up, a little surprised.

“Oh… hey,” you said with a polite smile.

Ellie felt the burn of her heart thudding in her throat. “Hey. Sorry, didn’t realize this spot was taken.”

“It’s okay,” you offered quickly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You can sit. I don’t mind.”

Of course you don’t, she thought. You’re so kind. You’d let the devil sit here if he smiled the right way.

She didn’t say anything for a while. Just opened her notebook, pretending to study, even though her eyes flicked to you every other second. She watched the way your pen tapped against your notes. Watched the crease between your brows deepen.

“You look like your brain’s about to melt,” Ellie joked softly.

You laughed — you laughed — and Ellie felt her ribs close in around her lungs.

“Tell me about it,” you sighed. “I have a paper due and like, zero motivation.”

And just like that, the door cracked open. Ellie stepped inside your world with a careful smile.

“I could help, if you want. I’m decent at writing. Got a lot of practice, thanks to Dr. Collins’ essay-from-hell last semester.”

Your eyes lit up in a way that made her throat ache. “Wait — you had Collins? You survived?”

“Barely,” Ellie chuckled. “But yeah. I made it out alive.”

You scooted over just a bit, angling your laptop toward her. “I will accept any and all help. Seriously.”

And that was it. Ellie was in.

She started popping up more — casual run-ins that were anything but accidental. She brought you coffee on the days she knew you had early classes. She left sticky notes on your desk in the library with dumb little jokes. You laughed every time. It was perfect.

But then you started talking about someone. A guy.

A classmate. A friend, you said.

Ellie’s hand clenched around her pen so tight it snapped.

You didn’t notice. You just kept talking, smiling softly, voice floating with affection.

That night, Ellie followed him home.

Just watched from a distance, hoodie up, breath steady despite the adrenaline in her veins. She just needed to know where he lived. Who he was. Whether he was a threat.

And when she saw him ignore your texts, leave you on read for hours, Ellie made her decision.

He wasn’t good enough for you.

She would be patient. But not forever.

You were already hers. She was just taking her time showing you that.

Ellie didn’t sleep for days after she saw your face fall when you mentioned him again — that guy. The one who didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.

She watched as you waited on campus, phone in hand, eyes scanning the crowd. You were standing outside your lecture hall, hands fidgeting with the sleeves of your sweater. You’d dressed nice today — makeup done, hair a little neater than usual.

All for him.

And he didn’t show.

Not until twenty minutes later, slouched and half-interested, offering a sheepish smile and a shrug like that could make up for your disappointment.

You smiled anyway. You always did.

Ellie’s jaw locked. Her breath stayed even. Her eyes didn’t blink.

He’d made you wait. He’d made you feel small.

She followed him home again, but this time she didn’t stay outside.

She waited until the lights in his apartment went dark. Waited until he was alone, headphones in, playing some stupid game on his console. He never even heard her come in.

The first hit wasn’t lethal. A metal pipe to the side of the knee — deliberate, punishing, shattering bone and pride in a single sickening crunch. The scream was immediate, high-pitched and raw.

She shoved him down hard, duct tape already in hand.

“I’m only going to say this once,” she muttered, eyes dark and unshaking. “You don’t talk to her again. You don’t look at her again.”

He gurgled something behind the tape, tears already running down his face.

Ellie leaned in, face inches from his. “You don’t even think about her. Got it?”

She didn’t wait for a reply. She didn’t need one.

Hours passed. Time didn’t matter. The sounds he made were pathetic, and she took her time — slow, cold, efficient. He needed to understand.

When she was done, she left him tied and bloody, tossed across the room like garbage. Alive. Barely. But enough to live in fear.

A message.

A warning.

No police report would follow — she knew his type. Weak. Cowardly. A memory she'd already erased from your life.

The next day, you looked a little confused, almost concerned. You mentioned you hadn’t heard from him.

“He probably ghosted me,” you said, trying to laugh it off. “Wouldn’t be the first time a guy flaked.”

Ellie put a hand gently on your shoulder.

“I don’t think you need someone like that anyway.”

You looked at her, softer than she expected. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “Maybe you’re right.”

You didn’t pull away when she touched your arm. You leaned into her comfort. Into her warmth.

It was working.

Ellie smiled all the way home, blood still under her nails.

You didn’t think much of it when Ellie offered to drive you home that night. You were both on campus, it was dark, cold. And you trusted her to an extent.

It was late, you were tired, and she was already waiting by your car, leaning against it like it was hers. You hesitated — maybe because something in her eyes looked different. But she smiled, soft and familiar, and you told yourself you were being paranoid.

You shouldn’t have gotten in.

The drive started off normal enough. Familiar roads. Ellie humming lowly to a song you used to love. But then she made a turn you didn’t recognize. And then another. You frowned, asked her where she was going. She didn’t answer at first — just tapped the steering wheel and said, “Shortcut.”

You stopped memorizing the turns after a while. There were too many. Too quick. Trees instead of buildings. Darkness instead of streetlights. Your phone? Gone. She'd taken it before you even noticed.

“Ellie, turn around.”

She didn’t. Her knuckles were white on the wheel, jaw tight, eyes forward.

“You’ll be safe now,” she muttered, almost to herself. “Finally.”

Your pulse pounded. You tried the door once — it was locked. The child-lock kind. Her kind.

You never expected it from her. Sweet, quiet Ellie. The one who helped you study, who brought you soup when you were sick. But this Ellie was different — sharper, obsessive, like she'd been waiting to snap.

Eventually, the road ended, and the cabin appeared — old, isolated, deep in the woods where no one could hear you scream. You begged. You reasoned. You cried. But Ellie only looked at you like she’d finally gotten everything she ever wanted.

“You don’t need anyone else,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead as she led you inside. “You have me now.”

The days began to bleed together.

You didn’t know how long you had been in Ellie’s cabin—if you could even call it that. Hidden somewhere deep in the mountains, no cell service, no internet, no roads visible from the windows. Just trees. Endless, quiet trees.

At first, you screamed. You cried. You didn’t eat.

Ellie didn’t punish you for it. She just watched. Quiet. Patient. Like a wolf waiting for a limb to go still so she could safely bite off the infection.

“You’ll feel better if you eat,” she’d whisper. Her voice low, cracked like old vinyl. “I made your favorite. I remember you said it once… back in class. Thought I wasn’t listening, huh?”

She remembered everything.

The chipped nail polish you used to wear. The way your eyes fluttered when you were nervous. The offhanded comments you made about never feeling seen.

“I see you,” she told you one night. And something in her voice made your stomach flip—not in fear. Something… deeper.

You hated that part.

You hated that after four days, your hands stopped shaking every time she opened the door. That on day five, when you cried and she wiped your tears with her thumbs, you didn’t pull away.

“It's okay,” Ellie whispered. “He’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

You wanted to scream that he didn’t hurt you. That Ellie was the only one who ever had. But your voice cracked. And you didn’t want to see that look in her eyes again—the one that was both love and danger, stitched into the same grin.

She started brushing your hair.

“I used to imagine this,” she murmured. “You, right here. Safe. Close to me.”

Her hands were gentle. Too gentle. As if afraid you'd break.

“You’re learning to trust me now, aren’t you?”

You didn’t answer. But your head leaned ever so slightly into her touch.

That night, she let you out of the room for the first time. Not outside—never outside—but into her world. Books. Sketches. Maps marked with little red Xs.

“This is everything I built… for you.”

There was a soft bed in the corner. New sheets. Lavender scented.

“You can sleep here tonight,” she said, fingers brushing your lower back. “Closer to me.”

And you did.

It wasn't trust. Not really. Maybe exhaustion. Maybe your mind, frayed from isolation. But when Ellie wrapped her arms around you under the thick quilt, and whispered “you’re mine” against your hair, something inside you cracked.

Not a break.

A splinter.

You stopped counting the days.

There was no point. No clocks, no sunlight. Just the quiet hum of Ellie’s voice when she read to you at night. The sound of her boots on the wooden floor. The soft clink of silverware she set down with each careful meal.

There was something peaceful about it—if you didn’t think too hard.

You had screamed. Begged. Raged. And still, she had stayed. Never yelling. Never raising her hand. Just watching. Waiting.

Now, you didn’t scream.

You didn’t fight when she helped you bathe. When she dried your hair with a towel that smelled like pine and her.

You didn’t flinch when she kissed your cheek and whispered, “Good girl.”

She’d reward you when you were obedient. More time out of the room. A book. A blanket from home. A drawing of you she spent hours perfecting—eyes too soft, mouth too sad.

"You’re safer now,” she murmured one night, tracing your collarbone with her fingertips. “You don’t have to run anymore.”

You didn’t answer. Because she was right. There was nowhere to run. Not anymore.

The turning point wasn’t loud. It didn’t come with violence. It came with a whisper. A flicker. A moment where you looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize the fear in your eyes anymore.

You saw her.

Ellie.

All-consuming. Ever-present. Everything.

So when she curled into bed beside you that night, wrapping her arms around your waist and burying her face into the crook of your neck, you let her.

You didn’t close your eyes right away. You stared at the wooden beams above. You breathed with her. Matched her rhythm.

"I knew you’d come around,” she said softly. “I just had to be patient. You were always mine. You just didn’t know it yet.”

You didn’t cry. You didn’t flinch.

You just let her hold you, let her hand find yours, let her whisper love into your skin like it was salvation, not damnation.

In the morning, she painted your nails. Brushed your hair with a comb she’d carved your name into. Called you her wife.

You didn’t correct her. What was the point?

She kissed your temple.

“You’re perfect now,” Ellie said. “Exactly how I dreamed you’d be.”

And in her green eyes—those bright, haunting eyes—you saw it:

Obsession disguised as love. Love tainted with control.

And you?

You were no longer a prisoner. You were a possession.

And slowly—terrifyingly—you were starting to want to be.

The cabin was warm. Not just in temperature, but in the way Ellie moved through it like it was a home you built together.

Your toothbrush sat next to hers now. She’d written your name on a tag and tied it with twine.

There was a mug on the counter—chipped and faded—that said “World’s Best Wife.” You weren’t sure where she found it. You didn’t ask.

You never asked anymore. Ellie called it your honeymoon phase.

She woke you gently every morning with kisses to your shoulder. She cooked, always your favorite dishes—eggs, tomatoes, sourdough bread, strawberries. She pulled your chair out at the table and watched you eat like it was her reward for every horrible thing she'd done to bring you here.

You weren’t chained anymore. But the door was always locked.

You didn’t try it anymore, not since the last time—when she’d found you standing in the kitchen, your hand hovering over the doorknob, and her voice had gone cold in that way that turned your bones to ice.

“You’re not thinking of leaving me,” she’d said, stepping closer. “Not after everything I’ve done for you. Right, baby?”

You had nodded. Fast. Too fast. She forgave you. But not without consequence.

That night, she didn’t let you out of bed—not even for water. She held you tight, almost bruising, whispered how much it scared her to think of you gone. How she’d die without you. How she’d kill for you.

You believed her. You still did.

Now, she was too happy.

She sang while she cooked. Danced with you in the living room, hands firm on your waist, eyes never blinking. She kissed your forehead too long. Said things like “I love you more every second,” and “You don’t need anyone else. Just me.”

You nodded every time.

And yet… something in her had started to snap again.

It was little things at first. The silence when you mentioned your old life. The way her jaw clenched when you looked too long at the photo of your family she’d allowed you to keep.

Then came the photos. The ones she took of you while you were asleep. Hundreds of them.

Piled in boxes. Taped to the walls of a room you weren’t allowed to enter until she “surprised” you one night.

“I just love you so much,” she breathed, showing you the shrine. “I had to make something that felt like you were everywhere.”

You had smiled. You didn’t know what else to do.

But the worst came next.

She came back from town covered in blood.

You had asked—trembling, afraid, already knowing.

And Ellie… she didn’t lie.

“He kept asking about you,” she said. “Your ex. The one who used to text. I couldn’t have that, baby. I won’t let them take you from me.”

She cupped your cheek with her bloodied hand, eyes soft, voice like silk.

“I did it for us.”

You didn’t scream. You didn’t cry.

Because in your heart, that last thread of resistance had snapped.

You realized something then:

You weren’t staying because you were trapped.

You were staying because this was the only place her love made sense anymore.

Twisted. Devoted. Terrifying.

But yours.

Would it be possible for you to do anything about Dina? Totally fine if not, I just never see anything about her at all 😭

If so, would you be able to do something about R just being reeeally protective towards her, almost akin to like- a guard dog or something . Just always following her around, hard to not find Dina without them , literally the nicest to Dina but as soon as anyone gets in the way they’re all glares and ugly looks.

But Dina has no idea what people are talking about when they bring it up to her, because what do you mean ?? They’re so sweet!

And maybe she does know and just chooses to do nothing about it because she finds it cute or funny.

(also really glad you’re back, make sure you still feel like you can take time for yourself tho!)

Guard dog - (Dina x reader)

Hi anon! thank you for this request! We need more Dina fics. Justice for Dina lol. Thank you for your kind message.... i hope you enjoy<33

Pairing: dina x fem!reader

requests are open! send me your silly thoughts:)

warnings: none

Summary: In which you protected her

authors note: part 2?

masterlist

Dina shivered as she walked into Ellies house. She quickly shut the door behind her, trying to not let anymore of the cold air in.

Dina hated winter. When it started snowing in Jackson she would gather as much food as she could and she would stay in the warmth her house. She would not leave for anything. She would wrap herself in blankets and she'll sit in front of the fireplace in her home.

The only time anyone would ever see Dina during winter is when the snow starts to smelt and flowers start blooming again.

Dina slipped off her jacket as she wrapped her arms around herself. Despite Dina practically hugging herself she still felt cold.

Maybe you'd be able to keep her warm.

No.

fuck.

She cant think of you in that way.

You were just friends.

Just friends.

'But friends don't cuddle. Friends don't shower together. friends don't-'

Dina's thoughts were interrupted by Ellie's voice: "fucking finally"

Before Dina could talk she heard Jesse say: "we know you hate the cold but you took like 5 fucking hours to get here"

"you guys are being overdramatic" Dina rolled her eyes as she took of her boots.

It's been a while since the 3 of them hung out alone.

Ellie was always hooking up with someone, Jesse was always patrolling and Dina was always with you.

"I'm surprised you didn't bring your girl with" Jesse told her with a smirk.

Dina's brows furrowed "my girl?"

"yeah" Ellie laughed.

"your guard dog"

"guard dog?" Dina asked in confusion.

"I don't know what you're talking about"

Ellie and Jesse's jaws hung open.

"You don't see it?"

"see what?"

"dude you're stupid" Jesse sighs.

-

You and Dina had gotten ready together. The two of were walking down the road and you held onto her arm gently.

Dina would never admit it out loud but she liked it when you did that. She liked it when you were so close to her. It made her feel safe.

You checked the surroundings while keeping an eye on Dina. Even though Jackson was extremely safe you still couldn't help looking after her.

You were subtle in the way you cared for her. You liked Dina a lot, and you had hoped that she'd catch on. It's been years and she still hasn't noticed anything.

To protect your friendship you decided to settle on just looking after her.

You were possessive, protective over what you wanted. But clearly Dina noticed nothing so your actions were in vain. (Or so you thought).

Dina walked into the bar first and she felt your presence close behind her. (You always followed her around and when the two of you were separated you still kept and eye on her)

Rumors spread around Jackson that the two of you were dating.

Dina has heard them. She liked the rumors hoping that any girl interested in you would believe it and leave you alone but she also doesn't know who or what the source of the rumors were.

She didn't realize it, but it was you. The way you looked at her, protected her, you scared everyone away from her. She didn't see it.

Fucking idiot.

Dina went to Ellie and she hugged her. You stayed close behind her glaring at the two.

'You can't be jealous. It's not fair' you kept telling yourself.

The feelings you had for Dina just grew stronger and stronger and they were threatening to reveal themselves.

Dina slid into the booth first and you slid in after, immediately wrapping your arm around her shoulder glaring at anyone who even looks at her.

Ellie stared at scene before her. There was clearly something going on between the two of you but you both denied it.

Ellie thought you were both really stupid.

The conversation flowed easily between the three of you, but eventually Dina had to go to the bathroom. You moved out the booth and Dina made her way to the bathroom.

"Hi"

Dina's head turned to see a beautiful red head giving her a small smile.

"hi" Dina smiled shyly.

"my name is-"

Before she could even utter her name you walked in

"There you are" you said as you walked towards her ignoring the girl.

You took Dina's hand and you looked at the girl.

"Sorry" she muttered and she walked away.

Dina frowned "why was she saying sorry"

You glared at the girl before you turned back to Dina, your grip on her hand tightened.

"I don't know" you shrugged as you kissed her temple.

-

"She was just protecting me" Dina's blushed.

"protecting you? All she had to do was pee on you to mark her territory because damn"

Dina felt butterflies erupt in her stomach.

Maybe there was more to your behavior

"It was probably a one time thing" Dina argued.

"one time?" Jesse said dramatically.

"She's always holding you. A arm around your shoulders or waist, she never leaves you alone, she follows you around like a dog... she's in love with you!"

Dina drowned out Ellie and Jesse's voices.

Everything she heard can't be a coincidence right.... right?

She wrapped her arms around herself once again

Maybe you were just protective.

But maybe, just maybe you felt the same way.

<3

bbf ellie pls!!! brother/sister’s best friend🙏🙏 maybe ellie is like a family friend and a bit older than reader

headcannons: brothers best friend!ellie williams x reader

masterlist

part 2

☆ Ellie first noticed you when you were still in high school, all wide-eyed and trailing after your older brother. She thought you were adorable but too young to even consider.

☆ The first time she saw you laughing over something dumb on your phone, that soft, genuine sound made her stop mid-conversation with your brother.

☆ You once walked into the kitchen in pajama shorts while she and your brother were gaming — Ellie almost dropped her controller.

☆ Ellie liked how you never treated her like “just his friend.” You joked with her, made sarcastic comments — you treated her like an equal. That stuck with her.

☆ She found herself watching you in the background — during family BBQs, movie nights, or when you'd pass behind the couch to grab snacks.

☆ She memorized the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were nervous.

☆ You gave her a birthday card once — a dorky handmade one. She kept it. It's still in her drawer.

☆ One day, she heard you singing in your room when you didn’t know anyone else was home. She leaned against the wall and listened like it was a private concert.

☆ She started looking forward to hearing about you — from your brother, or anyone, really.

☆ She once overheard you rant about a book or movie, and it made her grin so hard she had to bite her cheek to hide it.

☆ Your passion for random things charmed her — even if it was stupid stuff like organizing your closet by color.

☆ She started teasing you more often, just to get that annoyed scrunch in your brows.

☆ The way your nose crinkled when you were confused made her want to kiss it. She had to shut those thoughts down fast.

☆ You were the background of her life for so long — and then, slowly, you became the main focus without her even noticing.

☆ The moment she realized she was crushing hard? You came home from college break wearing a tank top and eyeliner, and she couldn’t look away.

☆ She starts coming over more, even when your brother isn't home. “Thought I’d wait for him,” she lies.

☆ She brings snacks she knows you like and pretends they’re for everyone.

☆ She subtly defends you during any teasing from your brother. “Leave her alone, she’s smarter than both of us.”

☆ When you post on social media, she’s always the first to view it. She never likes it though — just watches in silence.

☆ Ellie makes playlists she claims are for gaming, but they’re secretly full of songs that remind her of you.

☆ If you mention liking a band or movie, she’ll binge it that night.

☆ She keeps a photo of your family on her phone — because you’re in it.

☆ She starts sitting next to you on the couch more often, her thigh brushing yours.

☆ She laughs at all your jokes — even when they’re bad.

☆ You once accidentally touched her hand while passing something — she froze and replayed that moment for days.

☆ She secretly changes her cologne after you once said, “You smell good today.”

☆ When you're upset, she’s the first one to ask what’s wrong — sometimes more invested than your own brother.

☆ She offers you her hoodie when you’re cold and doesn’t ask for it back.

☆ Her texts to you are rare but thoughtful. She sends memes she knows only you'd get.

☆ She always remembers little details — your favorite cereal, your exam dates, your dog’s name.

☆ She stops flirting with random girls when you’re around.

☆ She makes you coffee exactly the way you like it when she’s over in the mornings.

☆ You once joked about marrying a rich musician. Ellie was irrationally annoyed all day.

☆ She buys a video game she hates just because you said you wanted to try it.

☆ She always acts cooler around you — leans against walls, deeper voice, more aloof — until she stumbles or knocks something over.

☆ She absolutely hates hearing about your crushes or dates. Her smile gets tight. Her tone sharpens.

☆ She once googled the guy you were seeing. Just to “check him out.”

☆ When you go to a party, she subtly interrogates your brother about who's there.

☆ She’ll tease you for flirting, but only to hide the jealousy brewing underneath.

☆ You once called her “like a big sister” and she couldn’t sleep that night.

☆ If someone else compliments you, she always has to top it with something witty or sarcastic.

☆ She fakes disinterest when you talk about your love life — but listens to every detail.

☆ She once interrupted a date by “accidentally” showing up at the same place.

☆ She texts you randomly when you're out late. “Just making sure you’re not dead.”

☆ She glares (subtly) at any guy who stands too close to you.

☆ Her whole mood shifts when you’re dressed up for someone else.

☆ She gets more reckless when she’s upset about you — smokes more, drives faster.

☆ You once wore her hoodie in front of your brother and his friends — and she couldn’t stop staring.

☆ When you joke about having a “type,” she always mutters, “That’s not even your type.”

☆ She daydreams about you choosing her — saying “fuck your brother’s opinion” and kissing her first.

☆ She writes about you in her journal under a code name.

☆ She doodles your initials when bored — tiny and hidden in the corners of pages.

☆ She listens to voicemails from you over and over if you’ve ever left one.

☆ Her lock screen changes to a picture from the last group hangout — with you in focus.

☆ She goes out of her way to drive you places when your brother can't.

☆ When you're sick, she's over with medicine before your brother even thinks of it.

☆ She once punched a guy who made a joke about you — claimed it was "just disrespect."

☆ She memorizes your class schedule and mentally calculates when you’ll be home.

☆ When you’re alone with her, she acts like you’re the only thing that matters.

☆ She imagines a future with you constantly — what your place would look like, what you'd cook together.

☆ She keeps a trinket you gave her years ago — a bracelet or pin — hidden in a drawer.

☆ She hates being called “just a friend” by you. It eats her alive.

☆ She sometimes types texts to confess, stares at them, then deletes them.

☆ She leaves anonymous song suggestions on your Spotify. You never know it's her.

☆ She watches how you interact with others — always comparing, always hoping you treat her a little different.

☆ One night, she sees you cry over someone who didn’t deserve you — and it physically hurts her.

☆ She finally admits to herself that she’s not just crushing. She’s in love with you.

☆ She starts avoiding you for a while — it’s too painful to be close without saying anything.

☆ When she comes back around, she’s quieter, more intense — her eyes linger longer, her jokes come with an edge.

☆ The final straw? You tell her one night: “I always liked you more than any of my brother’s friends.” And she knows she can’t keep hiding.

hellooo

I’m obsessed w the song Drunk, Running by Lizzy McAlpine. do you think you could write a ellie x reader based on that song plsss 🥺

thx so much!!

Drunk, Running - ellie williams x reader

hi anon! I had two ideas for the ending, lmk if you want a different version!! I hope you enjoy:)

this story is based off the song, Drunk, Running by Lizzy McAlpine. If you can listen to the song as you're reading:)

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

requests are open, send me your thoughts and ideas!!

warnings: codependent relationship themes, alcohol use, emotional manipulation (subtle, mutual), unresolved trauma, toxic dynamic, mentions of anxiety/panic

summary: You and Ellie have always been a storm—chaotic, coiled tightly, unspoken things woven into the silence between glances. One night, everything boils over. Fueled by alcohol, memory, and all the words neither of you ever had the guts to say sober, you're both forced to confront the version of love you’ve built: broken, frantic, desperate.

masterlist

You don’t remember how you got here.

Not the room—you know this place like your own heartbeat. You could walk it blindfolded. It’s the ache in your ribs, the burn in your lungs, the sting of regret creeping up your throat that you can’t place.

Ellie’s doorway leans the same way it always has. Crooked. Waiting.

And she’s there. She’s always there.

Sitting on the edge of her bed with a cigarette between her fingers, head tilted back, red eyes glossy like she’s already lived this night a thousand times. Like she’s been here before, waiting for you to walk in and fall apart in front of her.

“Been drinkin’ again?” she asks.

You nod. She doesn’t move. And neither do you.

You taste vodka and guilt, and something like hope when you whisper, “I couldn’t sleep.”

She shrugs, tapping ash into the same cracked mug she never washes. “I didn’t ask.”

That should’ve hurt. Maybe it does.

But you’re not here for kindness. You’re here because this is the only place where the world stops spinning, even if it’s just for a second.

Even if the stillness breaks you. Even if it’s Ellie breaking you.

“I walked here,” you say, trying to fill the silence that’s pressing hard against your ears. “Didn’t even put on shoes.”

“You’re gonna cut your feet,” she murmurs. She still won’t look at you.

“They’re already bleeding.”

Finally, her eyes meet yours.

And for a second, there’s a flicker of something softer. A glint of that girl who once traced constellations across your shoulder blades in the dark and called you her galaxy.

“You always come back,” she says, like it’s a curse.

You blink. “I always leave.”

“You always come back drunk.”

You laugh, bitter. “Maybe that’s the only time I’m brave enough.”

Ellie’s jaw flexes. You know that expression. She’s doing math in her head, counting how many times you’ve done this. Walked in, broken. Asked her to fix you. Let her hold you. Only to walk out again with your ribs sewn shut and your voice hoarse from the things you never said.

“You ever wonder if we just—" she stops, runs a hand through her hair, frustrated. “If we’re only this because we’re scared to be something else?”

Your throat goes dry. She never talks like this. Not when she’s sober. Not when you’re not.

“I think we’re poison,” you whisper.

She scoffs. “Then why do you keep drinking me?”

You step toward her like your bones are moving without permission. Like they remember the way she feels before your mind does. Like they’re in love with her even when you’ve forgotten how.

“’Cause it’s the only thing that makes it stop hurting.”

Ellie doesn’t pull away when you kneel in front of her. When your head falls into her lap. When your hands clutch at her thighs like a lifeline. Her fingers slip into your hair, gentle. Devastating. Like nothing’s wrong.

Like this isn’t killing both of you.

“You smell like cheap vodka and bad choices,” she says, but it’s so soft you almost think she’s trying to love you with the words.

“I miss you,” you breathe.

“You don’t,” she says back. “You miss the version of me who let you run.”

The silence drapes over the room like fog.

“I miss the version of me who didn’t,” you finally whisper.

And that’s when she leans down, foreheads touching, breath against your lips like a promise neither of you know how to keep.

“You were never supposed to love me like this,” she says, and you feel it like a knife.

“You taught me how,” you reply, and she shatters in your hands.

She kisses you like a warning. You kiss her like a prayer.

And it’s all teeth and memory and the kind of desperation that tastes like blood. Her hands grip your waist like she’s trying to hold together something that’s already cracked.

She lays you down. You let her. You always let her.

And when she curls around you after, her voice barely audible, she asks the same question she always does.

“Will you stay this time?”

And you give the same answer you always do.

“I don’t know how.”

You leave in the morning. You always do.

And behind you, Ellie lights another cigarette, watches the sunrise she never asked for, and whispers into the silence: I would’ve waited forever.

Ellie hadn’t realized the silence was healing her until the ache stopped being the first thing she felt when she woke up. It started subtly.

Your name stopped echoing every time her phone buzzed. Her hands stopped trembling at 3AM. She stopped checking the sidewalk in front of her apartment like you’d be barefoot again, drunk, bleeding, mumbling something about needing to be held.

She stopped waiting for you to come undone in her doorway. And in the quiet you left behind, she started building a life that didn’t require loving you in pieces.

She read more. Fixed the broken step on her porch. Learned how to cook something other than grilled cheese. Stopped sleeping in the middle of the bed. Not because she expected you back, but because it felt better.

Peaceful, even.

She thought of you sometimes. Of course she did.

The way you smiled when you were too tired to fake it. The way your hands always shook when you said you didn’t care. The way you used her like a lighthouse, then cursed the fire when you got too close.

You never meant to be cruel. But that didn’t make it less cruel.

Still, Ellie never stopped loving you. She just stopped setting herself on fire to keep you warm.

And so, when your knock finally came—not a drunken stumble, not a crash, just one soft tap-tap-tap—Ellie was already standing.

Barefoot. Coffee in hand. Awake before dawn because she’d stopped dreading it.

When she opened the door and saw you—sober, eyes clear, jacket zipped—it was like meeting someone entirely new. Or maybe someone you were before the chaos.

“Hey,” you said.

Her throat was dry. “Hey.”

You smiled, almost sheepish. “I didn’t come to fall apart this time.”

That made her chest seize up in ways she wasn’t ready for.

You stood there, hands buried in your coat pockets, shifting like you didn’t know if you had the right to be here anymore. Like you didn’t expect her to open the door.

“I just…” you licked your lips. “I’ve been trying. I’ve been going to therapy. I’ve stopped drinking. It’s been four months. I journal. I even got a cat.”

Ellie blinked. “You hate cats.”

“She hates me too. It’s a good match.”

That pulled a soft laugh out of her, unfiltered. You looked so… real. Not desperate. Not frantic. Not aching.

“I’ve missed you,” you said. “But not like before. Not like… like you’re the only thing keeping me alive. I just… miss you. Not the pain. Not the mess.”

She leaned against the doorframe, letting herself exhale.

“Why now?” she asked. “Why today?”

You bit your lip. “Because for the first time, I wasn’t scared to be alone. And I think… maybe that means I’m ready to be with someone. Not to survive. Just to be.”

She wanted to say something poetic. Something that sounded like closure or beginning or both.

But all she could manage was: “Do you want to come in?”

You smiled like it meant everything.

“Only if you want me to.”

Ellie stepped aside. And this time, you walked in with your shoes on, your voice steady, your hands not shaking.

You didn’t fall into her arms like you were drowning. You stood beside her. Still. Sober.

And when she reached for your hand, it wasn’t trembling.

This is how the cycle ends. Not with fireworks. Not with a breakdown. But with quiet recognition. With two people choosing each other—not out of fear, but out of love that finally feels safe.

It’s almost embarrassing how mundane it is.

The morning light spills through the apartment like it’s always belonged there—soft, forgiving. Your cat (the one who still barely tolerates you) is curled on the windowsill, tail flicking rhythmically. Ellie’s in the kitchen, humming under her breath while flipping pancakes she knows you like just a little burnt on the edges.

You’re sitting at the kitchen table, wrapped in one of her old flannels, thumbing through a book she lent you. You’ve underlined every other sentence.

She says nothing about it.

Just brings you a cup of coffee exactly the way you like it now. Two sugars. No cream. You’d stopped adding cream when you realized you used to drown the bitterness out of habit, not taste.

“How’s the book?” she asks.

You look up at her—hair messy, tattoo sleeve half-covered by a hoodie, eyes kind in the way that used to terrify you. You used to run from kindness like it was a threat.

Now you let it hold you.

“It’s good,” you murmur. “I think I’m finally understanding it.”

She leans against the counter and raises a brow. “The themes or the words?”

“Both.”

She grins. “Progress.”

You smile back. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

Ellie walks over, slow and sure. Crouches beside your chair, presses her forehead to your knee like it’s instinct. Her fingers curl around yours. Grounding.

“You gave up on yourself first,” she says quietly. “I was just waiting for you to remember who you are.”

You blink back the sting behind your eyes. Not sadness. Just... release.

“I was so scared,” you whisper.

“I know.”

“I thought loving you meant losing myself.”

She nods, solemn. “And I thought loving you meant saving you.”

You both sit with that. Not in shame—just recognition.

“I’m not a project anymore,” you say.

“No,” she agrees, looking up at you. “You’re my partner.”

You press your lips to her forehead. She closes her eyes. Breakfast burns slightly on the stove, but neither of you move.

Later, you water the plants while Ellie grades papers. Your cat hisses when you try to pet her and Ellie snorts behind her laptop. You walk past her and kiss her temple. She tugs you onto her lap and lets you fall asleep like that—safe, full, warm. When you wake up, the sun is fading, and Ellie’s fingers are tracing the line of your spine through the fabric of her flannel.

“You think we’ll always be this boring?” you tease.

She smiles against your shoulder.

“I hope so.”

Pls my wife may we get some desperate lesbian content about friend (wife) reader ignoring abby after what she did to joel because she was scared, so abby just gets all teary eyed and just starts to try to please her sexually

What We Bury in Silence - abby anderson x reader

pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

requests are open again! send me your silly thoughts:)

warnings: MDNI 18+ Explicit sexual content (fingering r receiving), themes of trauma and grief, emotional and psychological tension, references to violence and loss (Joel’s death), guilt, anger, and forgiveness struggles, raw emotional vulnerability and confession

summary: You and Abby were close—more than friends, though no one dared to say it aloud. But after Joel's death, you went quiet. Abby thought you'd never forgive her. That silence breaks one night when guilt, rage, and buried desire finally ignite.

masterlist

This story contains sexual content—please read with care. You are responsible for what you consume online.

You hadn’t said a word to her in weeks. Not since Jackson. Not since the blood. Not since you found out what she did.

Abby thought she'd be ready for the aftermath—Joel’s face haunting her dreams, her name spat like venom in town. But your silence? That hit deeper than any wound she’d ever taken.

You avoided her at base. Eyes down. Steps sharp. Not a glance. Not even hatred—just absence. It made her sick.

She knocked tonight anyway.

“Just talk to me,” Abby said through your door, voice low and wrecked. “Please.”

Nothing.

Abby stood there for minutes. She turned to leave—then froze when the door clicked open behind her.

Your eyes met. And it was like the air shattered. You were still wearing his jacket.

“Why are you here?” you asked, voice even but barely holding together.

Abby swallowed hard. “I didn’t come for a fight. I just…” Her voice cracked. “I miss you.”

You didn’t speak. Just stepped aside. Let her in like a storm you were too tired to fight.

She lingered by the table, arms stiff by her sides. “You won’t look at me,” she said. “You won’t yell. Won’t curse me out. Just… nothing.”

You sat on the couch. “What do you want from me, Abby?”

The name was a blade on your tongue.

She moved closer—slow, uncertain. “I want to explain.”

You let her. And she told you everything. Her dad. The Fireflies. Joel’s choice. Her own rage. When she finished, the silence was worse than before.

You stood. Crossed the room. She flinched when your hand brushed her cheek.

“I hate what you did,” you whispered. “I hate that I still want you.”

And something in her shattered.

The first kiss was desperate—salted with tears, teeth, regret. You shoved her back against the wall, hands tangling in her hair, lips fierce and unforgiving.

Abby groaned, fingers digging into your waist like she was scared you’d disappear. You bit her lip hard. She moaned.

“This doesn’t fix anything,” you hissed.

“I know,” she breathed, eyes dark. “But let me try anyway.”

You didn’t stop her when she sank to her knees. She tugged your pants down slowly, reverently, like she was asking for permission with every touch.

“I’m sorry,” she said against your inner thigh. “I’d take it back if I could. I’d undo all of it.”

You didn’t answer, but you didn’t push her away either. Her mouth was soft. Skilled. Every flick of her tongue was a plea for forgiveness.

You gasped, fisting her hair, thighs trembling.

“Fuck—Abby—”

She moaned at the sound of her name. You could feel her trembling too. She didn’t stop until you were wrecked—legs shaking, breath gone, body arched against the guilt and the heat between you.

And when you pulled her up and kissed her again, she cried into your mouth. You dragged her to bed. Tore her clothes off. Took your time making her fall apart—over and over again.

The air was thick with sweat, shame, and the unspoken truth that this might never be enough.

But it was something. It was real.

You woke tangled in her arms, her face buried in your neck like she couldn’t bear to let you go. You watched the sunrise in silence.

Then finally, softly: “I still don’t forgive you.”

Abby nodded against your skin. “I know.”

You turned to face her, touched her jaw.

“But I think I want to try.”

Nora told you exactly what she did. The brutality. The violence. You were disgusted despite knowing why she did it.

You don’t want to let her in. Not really. But the moment the door clicks shut behind you, every sharp edge of your silence softens—just a little.

She stands there, all tension and regret, like she’s trying to hold herself together for both of you. Maybe she’s the only one doing any holding right now.

“I didn’t come to make it worse,” Abby says, voice low, raw. “I just need you to hear me.”

You look away. “You don’t get to ask that. Not after everything.”

Her eyes flick down. “I know. I’m sorry. More than you can imagine.”

"You killed a girl's father Infront of her. You made her watch"

"He killed my dad"

Something twists inside you. You want to yell, to tell her to leave. But you just swallow and keep looking at the floor.

“I hate what you did,” you finally say, voice steady but cold. “And I hate that I still want you. It makes me sick.”

Abby’s breath catches. She takes a step closer, but you don’t flinch.

“why are you still here?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

She swallows, eyes searching yours like she’s trying to find a place to land. “Because I’m not ready to lose you.”

You don’t move. You don’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing you crack. But inside, the walls are trembling.

“Why should I believe you?” you whisper, voice rough like gravel. “After everything you did, everything you took from her? Violence doesn't solve anything”

She steps closer, and you feel the heat of her breath. “Because I’m drowning in the same guilt. I carry it every second. Joel’s face, your silence... I don’t deserve you.”

You close your eyes for a moment, swallowing the lump in your throat. The truth is, you’ve missed her—the way she looked at you, fierce and broken all at once. But that only makes the ache worse.

“Maybe I want to hate you,” you admit, voice barely audible. “Maybe I want you to hurt like I do.”

Abby’s hands reach out slowly, trembling. “Then let me in. Let me be the reason you don’t have to carry it alone.”

Your heart is pounding, a wild, desperate rhythm that betrays your cold words. You push her hand away, but your body betrays you—your fingers twitch, wanting to touch her.

Her lips brush your neck, soft and tentative, and the ache spirals into something darker, something desperate.

You catch her mouth with yours, rough and urgent, like you’re trying to reclaim the pieces of yourself she holds hostage. Your hands thread through her hair, pulling her closer as your lips clash.

The taste of her—salt and something bittersweet—makes your knees weak. You break the kiss, gasping. “This doesn’t fix anything,” you choke out.

Abby’s voice is a whisper against your skin. “No. But maybe it’s a start.”

Her hands explore, tentative but hungry, trailing under your shirt like she’s memorizing every inch. You let go of some of the bitterness, the anger. Let the heat flood in and drown the cold for just a moment.

And when she sinks to her knees, the guilt and desire twist into a single, fierce need that can’t be denied.

Your breath hitches as she lowers herself, hands trembling but steady, like she’s asking for forgiveness with every touch. You don’t stop her—not because you forgive her yet, but because a part of you aches for this connection, this dangerous comfort.

Her mouth finds your skin, soft and worshipful, tracing a path that burns and soothes at the same time. You close your eyes, biting your lip to hold back a shudder.

“I don’t deserve this,” you whisper, voice rough.

Her hands clutch your hips tighter. “Maybe not. But I need this. Need you.”

You grip the back of her head, pulling her closer, desperate for something real in the chaos of guilt and rage. Her tongue flicks against your skin, and it’s like a spark igniting a wildfire beneath your ribs. You’re trembling, torn between pushing her away and pulling her deeper.

When she finally parts your clothing, her fingers brush over your skin like a promise — fragile but fierce. You gasp, caught between shame and want.

“Please,” she breathes, voice thick with need and regret.

You tremble but don’t say no.

Her mouth moves with reverence, worshipping every inch, every scar, every broken piece. You’re lost in the sensation, in the desperate heat that roars through you.

Your hands clutch her hair, pulling her up into a harsh, ragged kiss.

“I’m scared,” you confess, voice breaking. “Scared that I’ll never be okay. That I’ll never forgive.”

She kisses you harder. “Then I’ll keep fighting. For you. For us.”

The room hums with tension, desire, and the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, you can find a way through the wreckage — together.

Your breath is ragged, heart pounding like it wants to break free from your chest. Every touch from Abby feels like fire and ice all at once—burning away the walls you built, but freezing the parts of you that still ache with pain. You pull back slightly, eyes searching hers, desperate for something to hold onto.

“I’ve been so angry,” you whisper, voice raw and cracked. “Angry at you, at him, at myself. Angry because I thought if I stayed furious, I could protect what’s left of me.”

Her hands tremble as they cup your face. “I never wanted to take that from you. I wanted to be the one you could lean on, even if you didn’t believe it.”

Tears sting your eyes. You don’t wipe them away. Letting them fall feels like admitting you’re human—broken, hurting, but still here.

“I hate what you did,” you confess, voice breaking, “but I hate carrying this anger even more. It’s like poison, and I’m tired of being sick.”

Abby leans in, her lips brushing yours with such gentleness it makes your chest ache. “Then let me help you heal. Let me be the cure, even if it takes forever.”

You close your eyes and let yourself believe it—for just a moment, you let the weight of the past fall away.

When you open them again, you’re quiet but sure.

“I forgive you,” you say, barely above a whisper. “Not because it’s easy. Not because I forget. But because I don’t want this anger to own me anymore.”

Abby’s breath catches. She pulls you close, arms wrapping around you like she’s never letting go.

In that moment, broken and whole all at once, you realize forgiveness isn’t a clean slate. It’s a choice. A hard, painful, beautiful choice to let go and try again.

And you’re ready to take it.

The morning light filters softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room where you lie tangled in Abby’s arms. It’s quiet, but it’s not empty anymore.

You trace lazy circles on her back, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breath. The weight of yesterday’s confessions still lingers, but it’s lighter now—less a burden, more a fragile thread holding you both together.

You don’t pretend the past is gone. You know the scars remain, invisible to others but etched deep inside. But for the first time, those scars don’t feel like walls. They feel like part of the map—proof of how far you’ve come.

Abby shifts, resting her forehead against yours. “Thank you,” she murmurs.

You smile softly, heart swelling with something you thought was lost—hope.

“Thank you for not giving up.”

You don’t know what the future holds. Maybe there will be more pain, more fights, more moments where forgiveness feels impossible.

But right now, wrapped in this fragile peace, you decide it’s enough.

It’s enough to try. To live. To heal.

Together.

𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝: 𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

This story is not based off a song! It’s my own little idea:) This is a very dark story, so please read the warnings to make sure you’re up for it…

Pairing: modern high school au!ellie x popular fem!reader

Requests are always open feel free to leave one! Or you can just send me a song and I’ll take it from there!

Warning: stalking, obsession, kidnapping, violence, death, mentions of lying next to a dead body and mass shootings, blood and suicide

Word count: 3.1k

 Summary: In which Ellie’s “small crush” turned into an obsession.

Ellie’s heartbeat raced, her palms suddenly felt sweaty, she felt dizzy. Her vision focused on the girl she was hopelessly in love with. Every time Ellie saw her, it’s like she falls in love all over again. Her name was y/n. A beautiful y/h/c, she had the prettiest y/e/c Ellie had ever seen. She was perfect in every way. Ellie was one of the many men and women that liked y/n. Why would someone as perfect as y/n ever look at someone like her. An autumn brown haired girl with freckles? You would never look at her. To say Ellie was in love with y/n was an understatement.

Ellie was infatuated with someone she could never have.

﹒ʬʬ﹒⪩⪨﹒⟡﹒ᐢ..ᐢ﹒◖﹒⇅﹒○﹒✿﹒⊹﹒∇﹒✸﹒⟢﹒❀﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒♡﹒

Ellie Williams. Many people would describe her as a loner. “She’s a weird kid” someone once said “she doesn’t even interact with any of us. I didn’t even know she existed” and truth be told Ellie was a quite kid. A very quiet kid. She never spoke or interacted with anyone because she can’t stand most people. Due to Ellie’s unusual silence, many rumors were spread of the poor girl. The rumors were people’s way of trying to figure out who Ellie was, Ellie’s favorite rumor about herself was, that she was a mass shooter at her previous school. Today was like no other for Ellie. As she walked down the halls people were staring and whispering. She was used to it at this point. She walked into her first class of the and once again all eyes were on her.

 “You’re late again” her teacher grumbled. Ellie rolled her eyes as she walked past her teacher. As she sat down, she flinched a little due to how cold her chair was. Ellie didn’t even take out her school books because she didn’t care. She propped her head up with her right hand- trying not to fall asleep. Ellie soon zoned out staring at the two posters in front of the class. The posters were for the class presidents voting, that was happening in a few days. The only two people left in the running were Abby Anderson and y/n y/l/n. If Ellie had to be honest Abby’s poster looked way more professional yours. She started at your poster that was decorated in pink and purple flowers. There was no way y/n was going to win with a poster looking like that.

“Hey” a voice whispered

 “Hey!” the voice said once again.

Ellie turned around slowly, hoping to scare away whoever this person was. And to her surprise her eyes met with y/n.

‘since when does she sit behind me?’ Ellie thought to herself.

“Sorry to bother you, but can I please borrow a pencil? I promise to give it back” she asked in a hushed voice. Normally Ellie would turn around and ignore them, but for some odd reason she bent down to grab her bag and she pulled out a pencil. As Ellie reached out to give you the pencil, her fingertips slightly brushed against yours. As soon as Ellie felt your fingers, the hair at the back of her neck stood up, goosebumps arose on her skin. It felt like her hand was on fire. Ellie’s mouth went dry; her breathing became uneven. She looked up from her hand to meet your eyes. ‘‘Thank you” you said softly. You offered her a small smile “I’ll give it back soon”

Ellie sat in the school bathroom in awe. Even though the bathroom stall was small and it stank, Ellie sat there in awe. y/n. y/n y/l/n touched her hand. For the first time since she’s moved to Jackson, Ellie finally got a good look at you. Ellie saying you were beautiful was an insult. You were more than breathe taking. And your perfume- god your scent was intoxicating. Ellie’s mind was filled with many thoughts as she stared down at her hand. Once again the thought ran through her mind: y/n touched her hand.

Ellie let out a deep sigh as the bell rang. She threw her green and black backpack over her shoulder as she started walking to her class.

 “There you are” a voice said, Ellie immediately recognized the voice. y/n. Her y/n. When Ellie turned around she saw you walking towards her. You weren’t walking to anyone else, you were walking to her. As you were walking towards Ellie- as cliché as it sounds- everything around her went silent. She couldn’t focus on anything else but you walking towards her.

“Thanks for the pencil! You saved my life back there!” You said with a laugh

“She has a pretty laugh” Ellie thought to herself. Ellie stared at you with no emotion. She wasn’t trying to scare you away; she was trying to memorize your features. The way your lips curled when you laughed, the was your eyes closed, the way your laugh sounded. Normally Ellie would walk away. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. You said a quick goodbye and walked away. And Ellie stood there in shock. y/n spoke to her. You laughed at her. You touched her hand and you used her pencil.

And in this very moment everything began. The beginning of the end. This was the moment when Ellie Williams became infatuated with y/n y/l/n.

﹒ʬʬ﹒⪩⪨﹒⟡﹒ᐢ..ᐢ﹒◖﹒⇅﹒○﹒✿﹒⊹﹒∇﹒✸﹒⟢﹒❀﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒♡﹒

It’s been 3 months since Ellie and y/n interacted for the first time, and Ellie has been smitten ever since. Ellie’s little crush on y/n soon grew out of control. It wasn’t even a crush. It was an obsession. An addiction. Ellie started off small, with quick glances from across the classroom or the cafeteria. Then Ellie memorized her class schedules and followed her to every class to make sure she got there safe. But suddenly everything became worse. Her obsession started to grow. Ellie started following y/n home, breaking into her house, stealing small things, watched her sleep, and stared at her from her window. Ellie became a stalker. In Ellie’s eyes what she was doing wasn’t wrong, because she wasn’t hurting anyone. Ellie saw her behavior as normal. When you’re in love, it makes you do crazy things, right?

Ellie was content with following y/n around until she found out there was another guy inserted in her. Her y/n. Her girl. And Ellie soon realized if she doesn’t do anything shell loose y/n to someone else. She had to get rid of him. Ellie once again sat in the small, stinky bathroom stall and thought of ways she could rid of him. Murder? Ellie could kill him. But what happens if she got caught? If she gets caught shell never be able to see y/n again. She was definitely not going to kill anyone. Her only solution was, was to ask y/n out before anyone else could.

It had been a few days since Ellie decided she would ask y/n out on a date. Ellie planned exactly how she was going to ask you. So when everyone was in class Ellie went to your locker, and left a note saying “meet me on the rooftop at 3 pm”.

Ellie has never been more nervous. She felt nauseous. Her hands were shanking as she stood on the rooftop watching all the students walk home.

 “Ellie?” She heard her girl call her.

Ellie took a deep breath as she picked up the flowers she put on the ground. You walked closer to her, and Ellie turned and quickly you the flowers without saying anything. You have her a questioning look, confused on why she just gave you flowers. Before you could ask anything Ellie quickly said the words: “will you go on date with me?” Ellie closed her eyes tightly in fear that you might reject her. Ellie felt your soft hand touch her face, her closed eyes immediately opened and widened at the gesture. And to Ellie’s surprise you said yes.

﹒ʬʬ﹒⪩⪨﹒⟡﹒ᐢ..ᐢ﹒◖﹒⇅﹒○﹒✿﹒⊹﹒∇﹒✸﹒⟢﹒❀﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒♡

In all her years of living Ellie never thought she would be sitting across from you. Her girl. The prettiest girl she had ever seen. The love of her life. You wore a pretty pink dress that Ellie had seen in your closet the last time she was there. She has dreamed of seeing you in this dress now you were sitting across from her wearing it, just for her. Ellie was in awe of how beautiful you looked.

Your date went well. You told her things about yourself that she already knew by following you around and by breaking into your house- but you didn’t need to know that. You seemed happy and comfortable around her and that made Ellie happy. She didn’t want you to be scared of her like the others.

 And at some point during the date you reached across the table to grab her hand. Ellie was on cloud 9. Butterflies erupted in her stomach. She felt like she was going to pass out. With her palms sweaty, heart racing and high on the scent of your perfume, Ellie got up to pay the bill.  Ellie’s plan was to take you on a nice walk through a private park, and she’ll ask you to be her girlfriend. And hopefully you’ll say yes. Ellie prayed to whichever god there was to: please let her say yes.

As Ellie and y/n walked to the park a cool breeze filled the air. y/n let out a shiver, and Ellie immediately took off her jacket and gave it to the girl walking next to her. Even after all y/n’s protests, she finally took the jacket and put it on thanking Ellie for the kind gesture. And a huge grin appeared on Ellie’s face. Her girl was wearing her jacket. When they finally reached the park Ellie realized that her shoe lace was untied. Ellie quickly apologized to her girl, and she bent down to tie it.

Ellie suddenly felt a warm liquid ran down the back of her head. Ellie fell face first into the ground. Her vision was blurry as she tried turning around. The last thing she remembers was your voice saying “its ok Ellie, just close your eyes” and suddenly everything went black.

﹒ʬʬ﹒⪩⪨﹒⟡﹒ᐢ..ᐢ﹒◖﹒⇅﹒○﹒✿﹒⊹﹒∇﹒✸﹒⟢﹒❀﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒♡﹒

Despite y/n’s popularity she always felt alone. Yes, she had many friends and yes, she was constantly surrounded by people but she felt alone. But then she met Ellie Williams. Ellie was attractive, no one could argue with that. Ellie was quite, and weird and y/n has heard all the stories that were spoken about Ellie, but she never believed it for one second. But that one faithful day when she borrowed a pencil from Ellie everything changed. You were in love with Ellie even when she didn’t utter one word to you, you were head over heels for this girl.

Y/n knew Ellie followed her home. She knew when Ellie was in her house. When most people would be afraid, y/n loved it. y/n loved it when Ellie was in her house because it felt like Ellie was closer to her. Y/n has never met anyone as dedicated to her as Ellie was. When Ellie finally asked y/n out on a date the girl was over the moon. As she was getting ready for the date, she spoke to the pictures she had of Ellie. Pictures she took of Ellie while Ellie was asleep, and pictures she paid people to take of Ellie. She spoke to the pictures telling them about how bright of a future the two of you had together.

Y/n knew the hold she had over Ellie but she wanted to take it to the next step. She wanted to keep Ellie all to herself. She didn’t want to risk Ellie getting bored of her and finding someone else. y/n already saw the waitress stare at Ellie, and in that moment she knew she had to do something. And that something was capturing Ellie. As Ellie bent down to tie her shoelace, y/n quickly grabbed a rock and hit her over the head, making Ellie fall to the ground.

Now y/n stood across her unconscious body, tied up to a chair in her basement and she couldn’t be happier. Ellie was here, with her. Forever. Ellie. Her Ellie. The love of her life, would stay with her forever.

﹒ʬʬ﹒⪩⪨﹒⟡﹒ᐢ..ᐢ﹒◖﹒⇅﹒○﹒✿﹒⊹﹒∇﹒✸﹒⟢﹒❀﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒♡﹒

Ellie stared at the ceiling with a small smile on her face. She had a pounding headache, but she kept on smiling. Ellie first freaked out when she woke up. Being tied up to a chair in a basement with a dim light shining over you wasn’t an ideal situation to wake up to. But after a few minutes she realized in who’s basement she was. y/n’s basement. Ellie was tied up in y/n’s basement. That could only mean one thing. You liked Ellie back. You liked her so much that you kidnapped her and tied her up. She was just as messed up as Ellie was, and Ellie was happy. She was happy that you liked her back. Ellie had somehow managed to untie herself, and she just sat there waiting for you. She waited for her girl to come get her.

It felt like hours went by before Ellie finally heard voices. She frowned when she heard there was someone else with you. The basement door opened and Ellie ran to hide under the stairs. Ellie peaked through the wooden planks as she heard you call out her name softly. Ellie loved it when you said her name.

 Before Ellie could reveal herself, she saw a man walk down the stairs to talk with you. Her girl was talking to someone else. Ellie was suddenly filled with a blinding rage, Ellie immediately came out of her hiding spot, she heard you say her name, but she walked straight to the man and tackled him to the ground. As soon as Ellie tackled him she heard her girl let out a scream but she couldn’t stop herself from getting rid of this man. Ellie grabbed a chunk of his hair and hit his head reputably into the floor. Blood splattered everywhere, his brains soon poured out.

The room was filled with Ellie’s grunts, your cries and the sound of bones breaking. When Ellie finally decided she has had enough of beating the man her attention turned to you. Your eyes were puffy and swollen from the screaming and crying. You looked at Ellie fear all over your face and Ellie hated herself for what she was about to do.

 “I’m sorry” Ellie whispered as she picked up the chair. She walked over to you.

“Ellie please don’t do this” you begged looking into her eyes.

“I’m not going to kill you baby” she promised “you just have to sleep for a while, while I clean this up, ok?”

Ellie raised the chair over her head and you let out a whimper. She swung the chair at you and filched when your body fell unconscious onto the cold floor. She turned her attention back to the other body on the floor.

“looks I have my work cut out for me” she chuckled as she looked at the blood and brains splattered everywhere. Ellie turned back to you and left a quick kiss to your forehead

“don’t worry baby I’ll be quick”

﹒ʬʬ﹒⪩⪨﹒⟡﹒ᐢ..ᐢ﹒◖﹒⇅﹒○﹒✿﹒⊹﹒∇﹒✸﹒⟢﹒❀﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒♡﹒

Ellie looked at herself in the mirror. She was very nervous. She put on her best suit and sprayed on her most expensive perfume. She held the flowers tightly in her hand as she walked over to her bed, where you were laying. Your face was pale, your skin cold to the touch. Your skin was probably this cold because you’ve been dead for a couple of days, but you were still beautiful.

After the incident in the basement, Ellie had actually hit you a little too hard, which had led to your death. And now you lay here, on Ellie’s bed wearing a white dress, and an engagement ring. You were finally hers, and Ellie couldn’t be happier.

Ellie gently placed the flowers on your chest, and she slowly laid next to your dead body. She breathed in the scent of the body wash she used on you, to prepare you for this day. Ellie played with your hair while she thought of everything that happened these last few days. The good memories and the bad. But what ever happened doesn’t matter anymore because she lay next to you. The love of her life. You lay with her and no one else.

And Ellie was ready to join you. She wanted to spend the rest of eternity with you. You’ll be with her forever in the fare life. Your souls will be together forever and always.

﹒ʬʬ﹒⪩⪨﹒⟡﹒ᐢ..ᐢ﹒◖﹒⇅﹒○﹒✿﹒⊹﹒∇﹒✸﹒⟢﹒❀﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒♡﹒

Authors note: Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed this one. Remember you are loved, and to be kind with everyone… requests are always open, feel free to leave one.

Here is a cool ass edit to make up for the trauma I've caused you through this story<3

Yours truly,

Zia:)

Hello! I read your Ellie fics and I'm like😧, you write so damn well, the way I smiled with the fluff or how I cried with the anguish and if I didn't cry it's because I was simply shocked by the plot. You really have something about writing anguish and make crazy and murderous characters (I love it) THANK YOU FOR WRITING MASTERPIECES!😭♡♡ (sorry if the English is bad, I use a translator since English is not my first language)

Firstly your English is just perfect!! Secondly thank you for your kind words... you're making me tear up!!! I strive to make the best work for you guys!! Dw babe, alot is coming yalls way;))

Under her desk - ellie williams x reader

pairing: ceo!ellie williams x secratery fem!reader

requests are open, send me your thoughts:)

Warnings: MDNI Explicit sexual content (18+): intense sexual tension, implied oral sex, semi-public workplace sex, voyeurism, jealous/possessive behavior

Summary: You're her secretary—organized, polite, and always on time. She's the boss—cold, brilliant, and merciless. But every glance from Ellie lingers too long. Every touch burns. And every closed-door meeting gets harder to forget.

masterlist

MONDAY

The first time Ellie Williams looks at you that way, you think you imagined it.

It’s just a glance. A flicker of her eyes up your legs as you place the morning reports on her desk. But there’s a pause—half a second too long before she meets your gaze, green eyes heavy-lidded and unreadable behind wire-rimmed glasses.

“Thank you,” she says. Her voice is a low hum, raspy from lack of sleep or too much coffee. Or both. You nod, trying not to look at her mouth. Trying not to notice how she licks her lower lip when she turns back to the screen.

You walk out of her glass-walled office trying not to blush, legs unsteady under your pencil skirt. You shouldn’t have worn that lipstick. But the thing is—you know what you’re doing.

And so does she.

WEDNESDAY

Ellie Williams is brilliant, successful, and terrifying. She doesn’t waste time with small talk. She hates lateness. She reads contracts like they’re storybooks and intimidates men twice her age with a single look.

She’s also annoyingly hot.

You’ve spent the last three weeks working under her, literally and figuratively, and she hasn’t so much as smiled at you. Until now.

“Shut the door,” she says one morning, not looking up from her laptop. Her voice is low, authoritative.

You close it behind you, pulse skipping.

“Come here.”

She slides a file across her glass desk. You step closer than necessary, your hand brushing hers as you take it. It’s electric. It feels intentional.

“Read this clause,” she says, tapping a page. “Tell me what’s wrong with it.”

You lean over. She leans back in her chair, one leg crossing over the other slowly, eyes fixed not on the paper—but on you. You can feel her stare. Your skin burns under it.

“That’s… ambiguous wording,” you murmur. “It leaves too much room for liability.”

Her lips curve just slightly. You did well.

And then she says it: “You’re smarter than you look.”

You swallow. “You don’t know how I look.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Don’t I?”

It’s dangerous. Everything about her is. But you leave her office feeling like you just passed a test.

FRIDAY NIGHT

The building is empty.

You stayed late because she asked. A simple email: Stay after hours. Need you to help draft a response.

No “please.” No “thank you.” But you came.

Her office is dimly lit. Just her desk lamp and the amber glow from the city skyline outside.

Ellie’s jacket is off. Her sleeves rolled up. Tattoos exposed. Her jaw tight as she types. You stand nearby, heart pounding.

“Come here,” she says again, voice lower now. Rough.

You step beside her. She gestures at the screen, scrolling through a client proposal. But her hand brushes your hip. She doesn’t move it.

You don’t breathe.

“You smell like cinnamon,” she murmurs suddenly, almost distracted.

“It’s my lotion.”

“I like it.”

There’s silence.

You turn to her—slowly.

Ellie’s eyes flick to your lips. Your knees go weak. She leans in. So close. Not kissing. Just hovering—like she’s daring you.

“I’m your boss,” she says, whispering it like a sin.

“I know,” you whisper back.

“I shouldn’t want you.”

“But you do.”

Her hand grips your hip. You don’t know who kisses first.

But once her mouth is on yours, everything blurs. She pulls you onto her lap, fingers tangled in your hair, tongue sliding past your lips with a groan that makes your spine arch.

Her mouth is hot, desperate, possessive.

But the moment is short-lived. She pulls back, breathless, eyes wild.

“Get out,” she says harshly.

You freeze. “Ellie—”

“I said get out.”

You leave shaking. But she doesn’t stop you because she regrets it. She stops you because if you stayed, she would’ve had you on her desk.

WEEK LATER

She avoids you all week. Short emails. Clipped instructions. Barely looks at you.

It hurts. But you understand.

Power. Rules. Risk.

Still, she calls you into her office on Thursday. You go, heart hammering.

She’s pacing. Frustrated.

“I can’t think,” she snaps. “Not with you out there.”

You blink. “Did I do something wrong?”

Ellie stops. Looks at you like you’re the problem and the solution.

“You’re perfect,” she whispers. “That’s the problem.”

And then she’s kissing you again—this time rough, frantic. She shoves everything off her desk in one motion, making you gasp.

“Sit,” she growls.

You do.

And then her mouth is on your neck, your blouse unbuttoned, her hands everywhere, as if she’s waited months for this.

You moan her name—soft, breathy. She freezes.

Then she says it: “You’re mine.”

You nod. “Yes.”

You start sneaking around. Closed doors. Locked meeting rooms. Lingering touches behind your desk.

Ellie becomes obsessed.

She buys you new pens just because she saw you chewing the caps. Schedules “private reviews” that last way too long. Texts you when you’re home just to say, "Wanna come back and help me ‘finish something?’”

She doesn’t date anyone else. You check. But she doesn’t call you her girlfriend, either.

Power. Risk. Rules.

But in her eyes—in the way her thumb traces your lips after she kisses you—you know.

You own her, too.

MONDAY

The worst part isn’t that you kissed your boss. It’s that you keep doing it.

Ellie’s office becomes a second home for secrets: stolen kisses, whispered confessions, shaky breaths against frosted glass. But it never goes further than that—not fully.

There’s always a line.

Sometimes you think she’s drawing it. Sometimes, you think she’s one step from erasing it completely.

And every time she stops, the excuse is always the same.

“I can’t afford to lose you.”

You don’t know if she means as her assistant… or something more.

TUESDAY

Ellie starts acting weird.

She stares at you when she thinks you don’t notice. She double-texts you at night, then apologizes. Her fingers shake slightly when you hand her coffee. But she still never says what she wants.

And you’re getting tired of pretending.

“Are we going to talk about this?” you finally ask, one evening after everyone’s left. You’re leaning in her office doorway, arms crossed. She’s behind her desk, eyes on her screen but clearly distracted.

She doesn’t look at you.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Ellie.”

Now she looks up. Her jaw tightens.

“It’s dangerous,” she says quietly. “This is my company. You’re my employee. If anyone finds out—”

“I’d be the one who gets fired,” you cut in.

Her face shifts. There it is. The truth.

“I would never let that happen,” she says, voice low and deadly. “You have no idea what I’d do to protect you.”

You step forward slowly. “Then stop hiding me.”

She looks like she wants to say something. Instead, she stands. Walks around her desk. Stops a breath away. Her hand brushes your wrist.

And she whispers: “I don’t hide you. I hide us. Because once people know, they’ll want to take you from me.”

There’s something unhinged in her voice. Soft, but sharp. Like she’s thought about it too much. Like she’s scared of how far she’d go.

FRIDAY

You try to act normal.

Emails. Schedules. Morning coffee runs. But Ellie keeps breaking the façade. She calls you in five times for "review." Never talks about work. Just stares at you. Sometimes says something ridiculous like, “You wore that on purpose” or “I had a dream about you.”

And then there are the nights. Her texts turn softer, needier.

Ellie: Are you in bed?

Ellie: Can I call?

Ellie: Just wanna hear your voice.

You let her. And when she breathes your name into the phone, quiet and rough, it makes your heart ache. Because this doesn’t feel casual anymore. It feels like it’s killing her to keep you a secret.

SUNDAY

You show up to her apartment for the first time.

Ellie doesn’t even pretend to play it cool. She opens the door in a black tee and sweatpants, hair a mess, eyes tired like she hasn’t slept in days.

“You came.”

“You asked me to.”

She pulls you in without a word. Kisses you like it’s oxygen. Like she’s been holding her breath all week.

You don’t leave until 3AM.

There’s no sex. Just tangled limbs. Soft kisses. Ellie’s head resting on your chest like she needs to be near your heartbeat.

You stroke her hair, whispering, “Why do you make this so hard?”

And her answer is quiet. “Because if I ever lost you, I’d never recover.”

WEDNESDAY

It happens. You get caught.

You didn’t even notice the door was cracked open.

You were leaning on her desk, Ellie between your legs, her hand up your thigh, whispering something filthy against your neck.

And someone—probably an intern—saw it.

You don’t find out until later, when HR sends Ellie a request for a "private meeting." That afternoon, Ellie storms into your little cubicle, eyes wild, pulse in her throat.

“We’re not hiding anymore,” she says, grabbing your hand in front of the whole floor.

“Ellie—”

“Let them talk. Let them guess. I don’t give a damn.”

She pulls you into her office, slams the door, and kisses you like it’s the only thing that matters.

And that night, she finally takes you home again—but this time, there’s no restraint.

This time, she makes love to you like she’s claiming territory. Like she’s trying to memorize everything, in case the world tries to take it away.

ONE WEEK LATER

Ellie is pacing. You're seated across her office, legs crossed, heart pounding.

“You’re not just my secretary anymore,” she says. “You haven’t been for a while.”

You look at her. “So what now?”

She stops. Walks to you. Kneels—yes, kneels—between your legs and rests her head in your lap.

“We rewrite the rules.”

You card your fingers through her hair.

“And if they fire you?” you ask

Ellie looks up at you with that same fire in her eyes.

“They won’t. But if they do? I’ll build my own damn company. Put your name on the front. Hire myself as your assistant.”

You laugh. You kiss her.

And you both know you’re done pretending.

MONDAY

It starts with a look. Ellie walks in late—coffee in hand, sleeves rolled up, jaw sharp—and heads straight to your desk. She pauses. Leans down.

You think she’s going to whisper something.

But no.

She presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

Right there. In front of everyone. You freeze. So does the office.

Conversations stop. Keyboards go quiet. Someone drops their pen.

Ellie stands up straight, totally unfazed.

“Good morning, baby,” she says like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

And then she heads to her office. Just like that, everyone knows.

By lunch, the office is buzzing.

“Did you see that?”

“I thought she was single.”

“Isn’t that her boss?”

“There’s no way that’s allowed.”

“I heard they were already hooking up for weeks.”

You try to focus on your screen, but it’s impossible. Every glance in your direction lingers too long. You hear your name more in whispered tones than anyone should in a professional setting.

But Ellie? She acts like it’s nothing. Like she hasn’t just lit the entire building on fire with one kiss.

The next day, HR calls Ellie in again. You sit at your desk, sick with anxiety.

She walks out 30 minutes later, face unreadable. You follow her to her office, shut the door behind you.

“What happened?”

She exhales. “They’re not happy. But technically, I didn’t break any rules.”

“Technically?”

She shrugs. “We’re adults. Consensual. No direct coercion or manipulation. I didn’t promote you or change your pay. Legally, they can’t fire either of us.”

“But they’re watching now,” you murmur.

Ellie steps closer. “Let them.”

You overhear two coworkers talking about you in the breakroom later that week. Something crude. Something about how “you must be really good at keeping her attention” if the boss is that obsessed.

You walk out before they see you. Embarrassed. Furious. Ellie notices immediately.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lie.

She doesn’t believe you. Of course she doesn’t. Twenty minutes later, you hear her voice—raised—from down the hall.

“Say it again. I dare you.”

You stand up. Heart racing. Ellie’s got one of the men cornered, towering over him with a calm, cold fury that could freeze lava.

“She’s smarter than everyone in this damn building. And if I hear you speak about her like that again, you won’t be working here anymore.”

He stammers. Apologizes. She doesn't back off.

“She’s not just mine—she’s the best thing about this place.”

The entire office hears.

You’re both in her car. The sun is setting. You’re quiet. Ellie’s gripping the steering wheel a little too tight.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” she mutters. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

She looks at you.

“Because I want to protect you so badly it scares me.”

You reach over, touch her arm.

“I’ve never had anyone stand up for me like that.”

She exhales slowly.

“I’m yours,” you whisper.

And Ellie—tough, stoic Ellie—closes her eyes like she’s holding back tears.

“I’ve been yours since the first day you walked into my office,” she confesses.

THURSDAY

You didn’t think she’d go public with it. But she does.

At the company-wide meeting, Ellie is cool and composed as ever. She addresses the quarterly goals, talks profits and projections. Then, at the end:

“One more thing.”

She glances at you.

“I want to address the elephant in the room. Yes, I’m in a relationship with my secretary. It’s not a secret anymore. And if anyone has a problem with it, take it up with HR. Or better yet, with me.”

Silence.

Then applause. Actual applause. You’re stunned.

She doesn’t smile. Doesn’t wink. Just steps down, professional and poised, like she didn’t just dismantle the gossip mill with a single announcement.

Later, in her office, she pulls you in by the waist and murmurs, “They’re never touching you. Not even with words.”

Ellie books a meeting room. Not for work. Just to eat lunch with you away from the eyes. She brings you your favorite sandwich. Sits close. Hands brushing under the table.

“Is this okay?” she asks quietly. “I know it’s messy.”

You smile. “I’d sit under your desk again if I had to.”

Ellie laughs—real, unguarded.

Then she leans in. Presses a kiss to your knuckles.

“I’m not letting them shame us. You’re not a secret. You’re everything.”

MONDAY

Things have mostly gone back to normal.

Well—office normal. People don’t whisper quite as loudly anymore. HR stopped breathing down Ellie’s neck. And you’ve found a quiet rhythm with her—sneaking kisses in her office, flirty texts during boring meetings, soft nights tangled in her sheets. But there's still a tension in the air. Like something’s waiting to snap.

Like you’re both still holding back.

TUESDAY

His name’s Jordan. New hire. Tech department.

Cute in a safe, unthreatening way—gelled hair, bright smile, button-ups that are a little too fitted. He’s harmless. Probably.

Until he starts showing up at your desk. First it’s innocent. A shared joke. A smile. Then it escalates.

“You’ve got the prettiest eyes in this whole office.”

You glance up from your computer. “Thanks.”

“Bet that’s how you got hired, huh?” he laughs, like it’s funny.

You go cold. “Excuse me?”

“I mean—c’mon. The boss is, like, obsessed with you. Can’t blame her.”

You stand up. “That’s completely inappropriate.”

He just smirks. “Relax. It’s a compliment.”

You don’t even answer. You walk. Straight to Ellie’s office.

You barely shut the door before her voice sharpens. “What happened?”

You tell her everything. She’s already grabbing her jacket before you finish.

“I’ll talk to him,” you say quickly. “You don’t have to—”

But her eyes have darkened.

“I do have to. Because he crossed a line and because you’re mine.”

You swallow.

“Ellie—”

“No. I’m done being polite.”

The entire office is silent again.

Ellie’s voice slices through the air like a blade.

“I don’t care if you’re new or stupid or both. You don’t talk to her like that. You don’t look at her like that. You don’t breathe near her unless she wants you to.”

Jordan stammers. Ellie steps closer.

“She’s not your peer. She’s not your flirt project. She’s mine. And if you can’t understand what respect looks like, you’ll be out of a job faster than you can blink.”

Jordan nods, practically shaking. You’ve never seen her like this.

Furious. Cold. Protective.

And so, so in love.

She slams her office door shut. You sit quietly.

Ellie’s pacing. Her hands run through her hair, jaw clenched. She won’t even look at you.

“Are you okay?” you ask gently.

She stops.

“I hate it,” she whispers. “I hate the idea of someone touching you. Someone thinking they have a right to you.”

“Ellie—”

“No. I’ve been trying so fucking hard not to say it.”

You freeze. She walks up to you slowly. Cups your face in both hands.

“But I’m in love with you.”

Your breath catches.

“I didn’t want to scare you,” she murmurs. “Didn’t want to say it too soon. But I love you. And I’d burn this whole company down if someone hurt you.”

Your heart is racing.

“Say it again.”

She leans in, forehead to yours.

“I love you.”

You kiss her like you’ve been dying to for weeks. Deep. Grateful. Starving. And when you pull back, breathless, your smile is shaking.

“I love you too.”

Ellie’s whole body relaxes. Like she’s been waiting to exhale for months.

You’re at her place. You’re in her bed, skin warm from her touch, her fingers brushing your bare spine.

Ellie whispers into your hair: “You’re mine. And not because I’m your boss. Not because you work for me. Because I chose you.”

You whisper it back. And when she falls asleep with her arms around you, you realize something:

You were never under her desk. You were always under her skin.

FRIDAY, 6:42 P.M

The office is nearly empty.

It’s the end of the quarter. People went home early. Laughter and footsteps faded around 5:00. The air has that hollow, humming stillness that only comes after hours. Fluorescent lights dimmed. Elevator chimes long gone.

You should go home. You both should.

But Ellie’s door is closed. And your back is pressed to it.

Her mouth is on your neck, hot and open and needy.

You moan quietly, hands fisting the front of her shirt, body arching as her thigh presses between your legs, her grip firm at your waist.

“Ellie,” you whisper. “Someone could—”

“Shh.” Her voice is low, rough. Her lips brush your ear. “They’re all gone.”

You glance toward the glass panels. She’s pulled the blinds halfway, but it’s still risky.

And yet… You don’t stop her.

You're sitting on the edge of her desk now. Skirt bunched. Blazer long gone.

Ellie’s shirt is open—collar popped, chest rising fast. She’s in her chair between your knees, one hand gripping your thigh, the other sliding dangerously high.

“Look at me,” she commands softly.

You do.

God, you do.

Because Ellie in the office chair—tie loosened, hair mussed, eyes heavy with lust—is your undoing.

“You always sit here like this when you’re typing,” she murmurs, dragging her fingers up your inner thigh. “And you expect me to focus?”

“Ellie—” you gasp.

Her fingers brush against your soaked underwear. She smiles.

“Such a fucking distraction.”

You kiss her hard, teeth knocking. Desperate. Uncoordinated. Hot.

Then she slips her fingers beneath the lace and—

“Hey, boss, I—oh my God—”

You jolt.

Ellie jerks away, instantly on her feet, shielding you with her body. Your heart is pounding. Face flushed. Skirt still hiked. Her hands still warm on your hips.

In the doorway: Jordan. Eyes wide. Frozen.

“GET. OUT.” Ellie’s voice is a snarl.

He stammers, backs out, slams the door behind him.

You’re gasping.

Ellie’s jaw is clenched so hard, you think it might crack.

You fix your clothes in a daze. Ellie watches you. Still breathing heavily. Still angry.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “That was reckless.”

She walks up behind you. Wraps her arms around your waist. Buries her face in your shoulder.

“I don’t regret it.”

You turn, eyes meeting hers.

“Are you okay?”

She nods. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Ellie—”

“Not literally. Probably.”

You laugh, a little shakily. She presses her forehead to yours.

“I can’t keep my hands off you.”

“I don’t want you to.”

MONDAY

The entire office knows. Again.

Jordan’s quiet. Pale. Avoids you like the plague. Ellie calls a full department meeting. Not for discipline—but for clarity.

She looks every single employee dead in the eye and says: “Yes. We’re together. Yes, it’s serious. No, it’s not casual. And if anyone thinks about violating our privacy again, I will escalate it to legal.”

You feel the burn of her protectiveness long after she finishes speaking.

She pulls you into her office. Locks the door. This time, just to kiss you slow.

“Maybe I should move you out of the secretary role,” she murmurs. “Not because of the rumors. Because I need you close—and this isn’t sustainable.”

“Are you firing me as your secretary?”

“I’m promoting you,” she says with a smirk. “To something safer. Something that means I don’t have to hold back.”

Your heart flutters.

“Is that even allowed?”

“I’m the boss,” she says. “It’s whatever I say it is.”

Omg I love how possessive you made Dina it should be the norm

firstly thank you! secondly real!!!! All the Dina fics are so sweet but i do imagine her as possessive in some areas.

WE NEED MORE POSSESIVE DINA!!!!!