If You Were To Ever Do A Part Two, To Any Of Your Stories Which Would It Be?

super confident!ellie x really bold and forward reader at a party and they’re both just bored and the more ellie talks to reader the more shes stumbling over her words by how quickly she responds to ellie’s lines and ellie knows she’s fucked bc she cant stop thinking about the girl that she fucked at the party yayyyyy

Rose - (ellie williams x reader)

hi anon! i had so many ideas for this, i might make a part 2 because yes or ill make a different version ughhhh...i hope you enjoy it<3

Pairing: ellie x fem!reader

requests are open! send me your silly thoughts

warnings: sexual themes

Summary: in which she cant forget you

authors note: i submitted my application, lets see if i get accepted because i will lose my mind if i don't

masterlist

The smell of weed was the first thing that reached Ellie's nose when she walked into the house.

Mid term exams has had her stressed and she's barley been out. Whoever said college would be easy, lied because she's never been this stressed.

She needed to blow off some steam and what better way is there than to get blackout out drunk and to fuck a random girl she'll never talk to again.

It was too early in the night to make a move. She need to wait for the straight girls to get drunk, and for the overly emotional girls to come her way.

She sat on a couch scanning the room. So many victims, so many options.

Who will be the lucky girl tonight?

"You know its gross to eye fuck innocent people?" she heard a voice talk next to her.

A small frown appeared on Ellie's face when she turned to you.

Holy shit, who are you?

Her eyes scanned your body.... fuck

Maybe you'd be the lucky one

You noticed her staring and you rolled your eyes before saying: "Take your pervert eyes off me"

Oh you were feisty.

Ellie never had a problem with women. Most of them threw themselves at her, all she needed to do was say a few words and give them a small smile and they'd be moaning her name minutes later.

She was confident that she'll get you too. She just needed to pull out all the stops when it came to you.

Ellie chuckled at your comment "I'm not a pervert, I'm just checking to make sure you don't have a weapon on you?" she joked.

"What weapon? My strap on?" You snorted.

oh.

Ellie wasn't expecting that.

"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" you teased at her sudden silence.

Ellie shook her head quickly gaining her composure.

"Has anyone ever told you that you were pretty?" She quickly tried changing the subject.

You hummed "quite a few... has anyone ever told you that you suck at flirting?"

Now this made her jaw drop.

You didn't giggle like she expected, you didn't give her a shy smile.

What the fuck is happening?

"You're boring" you state, you got up and left.

You left the Ellie Williams speechless.

The longer the night went on the more her mind drifted to you. Her mission of finding someone to fuck ended as soon as you came into the picture.

She wanted you. She was on a mission to find you. But between all the people grinding up against each other she thought that would be impossible.

"Hey there loser" she heard your voice she immediately turned to you.

"h-hey" did she just fucking stutter?

"Did you find someone to fuck yet?" you asked she shook her head.

"Maybe we can..." Ellie went silent, too shy to finish her sentence.

She made two scissors with her hands and she made a scissoring motion "you k-know.... me and you"

You laugh at her. You fucking laugh at her.

"Don't be pathetic, use your words"

Ellie felt humiliated. Why were you telling her what to do? Normally she was the one giving orders. Ellie decided that its time to switch roles. She wanted to be in charge.

"Well lets go to the bathroom and ill show you what i can do"

"so you're saying im some kind of cheap fuck?"

"N-no i mean... i meant like-"

"see fucking pathetic"

Ellie was sweating, her cheeks were tinted in a dark shade of pink.

What were you doing to her?

You gently took her hand "show me where your dorm is" was all you said.

The rest was a blur to her.

Lips passionately touching each other, clothes flying off, your fingers in her. A tiny rose tattoo on your left shoulder. She's never cum so hard in her life.

After tonight she knew you fucked her over.

No one had made her this nervous, no one has ever made her finish this hard, no one had ever made her this submissive.

Who are you?

Ellie groaned when she heard her alarm go off. She rolled over to the side of the bed you were laying on, but you weren't there.

She opened her eyes to a cold empty bed.

"Fuck" she sighed.

She never got your name, she doesn't have your number, she doesn't know anything about you.

The memory of you on top of her, you moaning was all she could think about.

Fuck, how she just forget that? How could she forget you?

The only thing she remembered was the rose tattoo on your left shoulder.

"Fuck rose who are you?"

<3

can you do hcs of ellie williams taking care of sick reader :)

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬: 𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘹 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

☆- Ellie is a very observant person. It’s actually annoying how well she can read you. She would most likely know you were sick even before you realized you were.

☆- Ellie protects. She serves. She looks after people. She cares. As soon as she finds out you are sick her natural instinct is to provide and to care for you.

☆- Even if it was a small cold Ellie freaks out, she usually acts like you’re on the brink of death:

“Ellie it’s just a cold”

“You could suffocate in your own mucus though”

“No- “

☆- She would show up at your house randomly, sometimes breaking in just make sure you were ok:

“Ellie you were here 3 hours ago”

“Ok so?”

☆- She would cook you something to eat (or attempt to because let’s be honest it doesn’t look like Ellie can cook) and force you to eat it:

“It’s burnt”

“Shut up baby, I know what’s good for you”

☆- She’d run you a bath (daily), give you massages and she would sing to you.

☆- Ellie literally treats you like a baby while you’re sick( she won’t even let you basic things by yourself)

“Ellie I can tuck myself in”               

“Shhhh I know what I’m doing”

☆- Most nights Ellie wouldn’t sleep, she’d stay awake to make sure you were getting a good night’s rest.

☆- Very affectionate (more than she normally is)

“Ellie don’t touch me I’ll get you sick”

“Ellie stop kissing me”

“Ellie go away”

(She can be suffocating at times)

(You can’t even pee alone)

☆- She would most likely cry when you mention any pain you’re feeling, because she hates seeing you in pain, or hearing that you feel anything but happiness.

☆- Is worried that maybe you didn’t have a cold, and that you had something more serious and life threatening

“The medical books say that the headaches could be a brain tumor”

“Ellie what- “

☆- When you eventually get better, Ellie still follows you around, constantly checking if the cold/flu came back.

“Why do you keep touching my forehead?”

“You could be sick”

“Ellie I was sick a week ago, I feel better”

“That’s what a sick person in denial would say”

“I- “

Authors note: Thank you so much for requesting! And to all the other people that are requesting I promise your stories are coming soon! Remember requests are always open feel free to leave one…. Remember you are loved, and to always be kind to everyone:)

Yours truly,

Zia <3

can we get more abuser ellie headcannons/drabbles :)

Headcannons: toxic!ellie williams x reader

Hi anon! I just wanted to say a few things before I start. This not your fault and I’m not mad at you for requesting this. Thank you for your request and I hope you like what I have done<3

Before we start I would like to say a couple of things. I am in no way, shape or form trying to romanticize abuse. Abusive relationships and situations are traumatic to those who have experienced it. In my therefore you and me series I did write about abuse and I tried not to romanticize it. That is why I killed Ellie’s character at the end because of she had done. So once again, let’s not romanticize this, because people lose their lives daily because of it. I deeply apologize to those who I have hurt and triggered in my series. I do want to disappoint whoever requested this so I changed it into toxic!Ellie x reader with a not so toxic ending.

☆ Toxic Ellie who met you in a bar one night and immediately fell head over heels for you.

☆ Toxic Ellie who stomach churned every time she saw you interacting with your friends. ‘

☆ Toxic Ellie who started taking your phone while you were asleep to check if you were cheating.

☆ Toxic Ellie who started following you to work every morning to make sure you weren’t talking to any other girl.

☆ Toxic Ellie who would lose her shit when she saw you smile with someone else.

☆ Toxic Ellie who makes multiple accounts on social media to threaten your coworkers and friends.

☆ Toxic Ellie who comforts you as you cried because none of your friends wanted to talk to you anymore.

☆ Toxic Ellie who gets a job directly across the café where you work so watch you.

☆ Toxic Ellie who starts arguments with you because she doesn’t like when you talk to other people.

“just fucking leave me already” she yelled.

“Ellie why are you yelling? She literally just helped me carry my groceries”

“don’t fucking lie, if I didn’t show up, you would’ve fucked her”

☆ Toxic Ellie who cuts up your clothing when you have to go out, and then you have to stay home with her.

☆ Toxic Ellie who gets emotional when you don’t respond to her within one minute

“you’re probably fucking someone else”

☆ Toxic Ellie who threatens you if you try to leave.

“you’re a bad person” you spoke through tears

“I swear if you leave me I’ll kill anyone who comes near you”

☆ Toxic Ellie who hacks your social medias and reads your DM’s because she’s scared you might find someone else.

☆ Toxic Ellie who starts going to therapy because you threatened her with a restraining order.

☆ Toxic Ellie who talks about her childhood and how much she hated her parents.

☆ Toxic Ellie who realizes that she has attachment issues.

☆ Toxic Ellie who realizes her behavior was bad.

☆ Toxic Ellie who shows up to your apartment sobbing and apologizing.

☆ Toxic Ellie who goes to therapy twice a week, and learns ways to deal with her issues.

☆ Not so toxic Ellie who forgives her parents and moves on.

☆ Not so toxic Ellie who finally moves on from her trauma.

☆ Not so toxic Ellie finally living a happy and normal life with you.

☆ Not so toxic Ellie who finally gets a happy ending.

I NEED MORE PROFESSOR ELLIEE

Headcannons: professor!ellie williams x reader

masterlist

professor ellie masterlist

☆ Ellie gets visibly irritated when you mention other professors. Even in passing. If you compliment how “funny” someone else’s lecture was, she tightens her jaw and changes the subject fast — she can’t stand the idea of you admiring anyone else.

☆ She checks your schedule obsessively. Ellie memorizes your timetable. Not just for logistics — she needs to know where you are, who you’re with. It gives her a sense of control over the chaos she feels when she’s around you.

☆ Ellie started sitting in on classes that aren't hers. Just to keep an eye on you. She pretends it’s departmental observation, but she’s watching to see how you interact with other faculty.

☆ If she sees another student get too close, she gets cold. The moment someone touches your shoulder or makes you laugh in a way that feels too casual, her demeanour ices over. You recognize the shift instantly.

☆ Ellie fantasizes about pulling you into her office mid-argument. Half because she wants to shut you up with a kiss, half because she wants to remind you that you’re hers — in private, in the dark, where no one else sees.

☆ She collects pieces of you. A forgotten scarf, a sticky note you left on a textbook, a doodle you made in your notebook. She keeps them all in her desk drawer, like a shrine.

☆ She dreams about being caught. Not in a ruinous way — in a way that feels freeing. She pictures slamming the door behind you, kissing you like she doesn’t care who knows, and the thrill makes her stomach flip.

☆ Ellie acts dismissive in public. She’ll barely make eye contact with you in the hallway, won’t even acknowledge your presence during staff meetings. But her eyes follow you like a storm cloud.

☆ She talks about you vaguely to her colleagues. She’ll say things like, “Some students are… incredibly driven. Borderline obsessive.” They don’t know it’s about you. But you’d recognize that tone anywhere.

☆ Her jealousy is worst when you're not speaking. If you argue or take space, she becomes consumed with the idea that you’re already moving on, already finding someone else to fill the void.

☆ She keeps a second phone. Just to talk to you. It’s not official university property. It's locked, private, and hidden under a loose floorboard in her apartment. She checks it more than her main phone.

☆ Ellie has you saved under a fake name. In her phone, you’re listed as “M.” Short for “Muse.” You thought it was ridiculous — until she whispered it in your ear one night, and it suddenly didn’t feel so silly.

☆ When she gets jealous, sex turns rougher. She’ll grab your hips hard enough to bruise, mutter things like “mine,” and leave marks on your neck she shouldn’t. The next morning, she’ll panic, gently trace them, and apologize with trembling fingers.

☆ Ellie spies on your Instagram using a burner account. She doesn’t follow you, of course. But she checks your stories obsessively, zooming in on every face you tag, every drink in your hand.

☆ She’s obsessed with your lipstick stains. On her coffee mug. On her collar. On her inner thighs. She hates herself for it, but sometimes she doesn’t wash it off — lets it linger like a secret message.

☆ Ellie’s biggest fear is you getting bored. That one day you’ll wake up and realize she’s too rigid, too cold, too closed off — and you'll leave her for someone who can love you publicly.

☆ She hates your ex. Doesn’t matter how long ago it was. If they text you or their name comes up, Ellie shuts down. She’ll kiss you with a quiet desperation that night, trying to erase every memory before her.

☆ When she's drunk, she lets it slip. One time, at a faculty party, she got tipsy and said something to a colleague that almost revealed how much she knows about your life. You had to drag her away before she said your name.

☆ Ellie keeps writing a resignation letter. Over and over. Never submits it. The thought of giving up her position — her career — for you is terrifying. But the thought of losing you feels worse.

☆ She hates hiding, but she loves it too. The adrenaline of stolen glances, the tension of brushing hands in a hallway, the risk — it drives her mad. Sometimes she touches herself to the memory of almost getting caught.

☆ She memorizes your perfume. You once wore something new and she spent all lecture distracted, breathing it in. She bought a bottle for herself the next day just to spray her pillow with it.

☆ Ellie keeps saying "this is the last time." After every heated night. After every reckless kiss behind her office door. She says it while your lips are still swollen. Neither of you ever believe it.

☆ She leaves coded messages in your feedback. “Brilliant insight.” “Could explore further.” “Unexpected depth.” It’s her way of saying: You’re brilliant. You consume me. I see every layer of you.

☆ When she’s jealous, she punishes you academically. Subtly. A harsher grade. A red mark through a paragraph she secretly loved. She always apologizes later, hands gripping your waist, voice full of guilt.

☆ Ellie bought you a necklace. Something simple, something that wouldn’t raise questions. She told you it was nothing. You wear it every day. She notices. Every time.

☆ She’s terrified you’ll leave first. That you’ll grow out of the danger. That you’ll crave stability. Someone your age. Someone who doesn’t flinch every time the dean walks by.

☆ Sometimes she whispers your name in her sleep. You’ve heard it. In her apartment, curled up beside her, while she dreams. You never tell her. But you smile.

☆ Ellie wants to take you away. She fantasizes about both of you disappearing to a city where no one knows her, where she can hold your hand in daylight and not look over her shoulder.

☆ She’s more in love than she knows how to handle. The intensity of it — the fear, the yearning, the possessiveness — it swallows her whole. Sometimes she thinks she might drown in it.

☆ She’s planning an endgame. Whether it’s after graduation or a new job or burning everything down — Ellie’s secretly working out how to make this real. Because despite all the fear, she wants you forever.

i LOVE your headcanons of professor ellie 💗 could you write hcs of how ellie reacts to/feels about readers partying/drinking habits? since it’s college lololol tysm!!

Headcannons: professor!ellie williams x reader

masterlist

professor ellie masterlist

☆ The relationship started slow—Ellie couldn’t help the way she stared a little too long when you answered in class, the way her voice softened only when calling your name.

☆ You were top of your class, confident but kind—and the fact that you had no idea how captivating you were made her want you more.

☆ Ellie told herself she’d keep it professional, but she crumbled the first time you stayed after class to ask about office hours and bit your lip nervously.

☆ One night, a study session in her office turned into brushing fingers… then grazing knees… then a kiss that shifted her entire world.

☆ You’re young, wild, and still living the typical campus life—going out with friends, drinking, wearing short dresses.

☆ At first, Ellie tries to be understanding—you’re just being normal, she tells herself.

☆ But every time you text her “going out tonight!” she feels her chest tighten.

☆ Her mind instantly conjures images of guys hitting on you, or worse—touching you.

☆ She’s already emotionally unwell just thinking about you drunk around people who don’t know you belong to her.

☆ She never says “don’t go”—instead, it’s “be safe” and “text me the second you get home.”

☆ You send her a mirror selfie before going out, and it ruins her entire night.

☆ “You look incredible,” she texts—but she’s chewing her cheek in rage, wondering who else will see you like that.

☆ She zooms in on the picture, analyzing every detail: your neckline, your expression, who might be in the reflection.

☆ If you don’t answer for longer than an hour, she spirals.

☆ She doesn’t sleep until you text her that you're back home safe.

☆ If you mention a guy buying you a drink, she shuts down—dry, short replies until you call her and soothe the ache.

☆ If you tell her someone flirted with you, she pretends to laugh—but she writes that guy’s name down in her mental burn book.

☆ One night you send her a blurry photo of your friends cheering shots. She doesn’t respond for an hour because she’s pacing in her apartment.

☆ If you flirt with her when drunk, she melts—but also scolds you after: “Don’t say that to me when you’re not in control.”

☆ She feels disgustingly possessive, and it makes her feel guilty—but not enough to stop.

☆ She wants to be better. She knows she shouldn’t control you.

☆ But the thought of someone else having your attention even for a second drives her into silent storms.

☆ She journals about it often—how hard it is to love someone you can’t touch in public.

☆ She knows if someone finds out, it’s over—for her career, your education, maybe even you.

☆ That fear claws at her every time you disappear into a crowd of drunk strangers.

☆ Ellie starts secretly tracking your phone—not because she doesn’t trust you, but because she doesn’t trust anyone else.

☆ She learns your friends’ names and subtly checks their socials for anything that could trace back to her.

☆ If she sees a tagged pic of you with too much skin or someone’s hand on your back, she gets nauseous.

☆ She once messaged you, “Please untag that. It’s too risky,” and you didn’t even question it.

☆ She keeps a hoodie of hers in your dorm room that she tells you to wear home if you’re ever walking late.

☆ She buys you pepper spray and teaches you how to use it “just in case.”

☆ She walks you through fake alibis—what to say if someone asks who you were texting, who picked you up, where you were last night.

☆ She memorizes your schedule so she can predict when you’ll be on campus—and how to avoid you in public, just in case.

☆ She deletes her messages from your phone every few days, but backs them up in a private drive—just for her.

☆ She creates an alternate email address for your personal conversations, completely off-campus.

☆ The first time you drunk-dial her, she doesn’t answer—she panics, lets it go to voicemail.

☆ She listens to the voicemail alone, heart racing as you slur out how much you love her.

☆ She saves the voicemail. Listens to it ten times. But deletes it the next morning because it’s too dangerous.

☆ The second time you drunk-text her gibberish, she replies with “Baby, are you safe? Who are you with? Where are you?”

☆ If you ever say “come get me,” she will. Even if it’s midnight. Even if it risks everything.

☆ She keeps a hoodie, water, and mints in the backseat of her car just in case you call.

☆ The first time you cry after partying—someone being too aggressive, getting sick—Ellie holds you in her apartment and swears you’ll never go out again.

☆ After a party, you sneak into her place and she undresses you gently, muttering, “You’re killing me.”

☆ She always washes your makeup off and gives you oversized sweats to sleep in.

☆ She whispers, “Mine,” into your hair when you’re too tipsy to remember.

☆ She holds your face and says, “No more guys buying you drinks. Let me take care of you.”

☆ She leaves bruises where no one can see—under your clothes, on your thighs, between your ribs—so you remember who owns you.

☆ Ellie sometimes skips dinner just because she’s anxious you’re out without her.

☆ She watches stories obsessively—knows who you're with, what bar you’re at, what time the music changes.

☆ If a guy posts you even in the background of his story, she takes screenshots and studies it.

☆ She’s thought about showing up undercover, just to watch. Just to make sure you’re safe.

☆ She keeps your location pulled up during her late-night grading sessions, constantly checking if you’ve gotten home.

☆ She keeps a playlist called “when she’s out drinking”—half love songs, half rage anthems.

☆ Eventually, she starts subtly encouraging you to stay in. “I miss you. Come here instead?”

☆ She buys wine and sets up little movie nights to make staying home more appealing.

☆ She starts whispering the future to you during pillow talk: “One day this won’t have to be secret. You’ll just come home to me.”

☆ She says she doesn’t care about other people, but the truth is: you belong to her.

☆ She fantasizes about the day it’s all out in the open—no more parties, no more sneaking around, just you and her.

☆ Her possessiveness grows in silence, but she masks it with careful restraint—because keeping you safe means keeping the secret intact.

☆ And when you sleep in her bed, curled around her, she holds you tighter than she should, whispering, “I’ll protect you. From them. From everything. Just stay mine.”

can you talk more about ellie’s grading and the feedback she gives? i wanna know how intellectual she is insane iq core 💔💔💔

Headcannons: professor!ellie williams x reader

masterlist

professor ellie masterlist

☆ Ellie uses red pens exclusively—not out of malice, but because she thinks it forces you to really see yourself. Her notes aren’t just critiques, they’re personal. “You know this theory, stop playing small” scrawled in the margins feels more like a confession than advice.

☆ She’s the professor everyone is a little scared of until they actually talk to her. Intense in lecture, terrifyingly smart—but she softens when she talks one-on-one. Her voice lowers, her eyes track yours as if she’s cataloguing your brain. She listens like your thoughts matter.

☆ If she sees potential in you, your returned paper ends up looking like a co-written piece. Whole blocks of her handwriting argue or build on your points, sometimes more verbose than your actual body paragraphs.

☆ Her most devastating feedback is always kind. “You hesitated here—why?” or “Don’t dilute a brilliant argument to make it sound ‘acceptable’.” You leave her office hours feeling like you just got psychoanalyzed and inspired.

☆ You notice she always returns your papers last. When you joke about it, she just says, “Yours require more... attention.” Her gaze lingers too long after. You think maybe she’s memorizing your arguments—or your face.

☆ You show up early. She pretends to be annoyed but always saves your favorite chair. Sometimes you catch her looking at your hands while you talk. She taps her pen when she’s holding back something.

☆ “Your phrasing here? Lethal. That’s how you cut through academic fluff.” It’s high praise from Ellie, but it feels like she’s talking about more than your essay.

☆ You don’t know this, but the first time you absolutely killed a complex theory with original thought, she kept a copy. She rereads it sometimes when she’s stuck in her own writing. She’d never tell you—but it’s annotated in the margins with her own thoughts. Like a conversation.

☆ She’ll slide your graded paper toward you and say, “Nice work,” before walking off. You find a sticky note inside later that says:

“Your logic here is brutal. You’d make a terrifying debater. You should come to my next seminar. If you're free.”

☆ If you ever push back on one of her comments (politely), she’ll go silent for a beat too long. Then she’ll smirk, lean back in her chair, and say, “Fair point.” But you catch the flush on her neck.

☆ When you lend her a book you love, she gives it back full of tabs and handwritten notes. Her handwriting shifts depending on emotion: neat when she agrees, sharp when she’s frustrated, small and slanted when something hit her too hard.

☆ She reads between the lines—not just in your essays, but in how you speak. If your writing suddenly lacks fire, she’ll ask, “What happened to your voice?” with more concern than she lets on.

☆ She has a private Spotify playlist titled after your most compelling paper. It’s full of moody, ambient instrumentals that make her think of you pacing a library aisle.

☆ Gives You Optional Extra Assignments That Are Secretly Dates “Analyze this journal article if you want... I’ll be in my office at 6.” She gives you wine after hours and calls it a discussion session.

☆ She never says it aloud, but in her mind, she calls you “Bright girl” or “My sharp one.” Sometimes those almost slip out.

☆ Has a Folder of Your Work. Digitally and physically. Not just because you’re a good student, but because she thinks you're one of the most important thinkers she's taught. It’s her little shrine.

☆ Can't Hide Her Pride When You Speak in Class. Even when she’s trying to stay composed, her eyes flicker with excitement when you raise your hand. Sometimes she smirks when you quote her back to herself.

☆ Touches Her Lip When She Reads Your Work. She doesn’t notice she does this. But whenever a line of yours punches through her, she’ll sit back, pen to her mouth, eyebrows slightly raised, like she’s just been got.

☆ Notices Your Scent. Once, you leaned over her desk and the smell of your perfume clung to her sweater. She wore it again the next day—“by accident.”

☆ You once mentioned a quote from a female philosopher you admire, and Ellie responded a little too coldly. Later you found your copy of that author’s book in her office—full of her annotations. She's studying your mind through what you love.

☆ Writes Feedback That’s Basically Poetry. Sometimes her comments feel like verses. “You bent truth until it screamed—good. Now own it.” You don’t know if she’s flirting or just brilliant.

☆ You Catch Her Staring at You During Lectures. She’ll be mid-lecture and pause just a second too long on you. It makes your stomach flip. She always looks away first.

☆ Hates Giving You Anything Below an A. If your work ever slips, she spends forever writing the feedback. It pains her to mark you down—but she refuses to baby you. You’d never respect her if she did.

☆ Has Dreams About Debating You. Sometimes she jolts awake after a dream where you out-argued her in front of a whole academic panel. She was proud and a little turned on.

☆ Knows Your Favorite Pen. She keeps a matching one in her desk drawer. She says it’s coincidence. It’s not.

☆ She’s the Only One Allowed to Critique You. If someone else in class makes a dismissive comment about your work, Ellie will eviscerate them—politely, devastatingly. You leave class blushing. They leave in silence.

☆ She Has Your Writing Style Memorized. If someone read her a passage of your work out loud, she’d know it was yours immediately—by cadence, syntax, and how you handle commas like you’re carving something open.

☆ Her Voice Softens When She Says Your Name. Even when she’s frustrated or passionate, your name is the one word that always comes out gentle. A pause in a storm.

☆ Writes You Into Her Lectures. Without naming you, she’ll quote your paper in front of the class. “A student once said something that stuck with me…” She knows you know it’s you.

☆ She’d Risk Her Career for You. She hasn't yet. But she’s thought about it. Late at night, with one of your essays open in her lap, wondering if knowing someone’s mind this intimately should feel like falling.

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.”

YOU’RE BACKK

I AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMMM

Abby is so hottttttt

I want to kiss her pretty little face after sex with her and telling her that shes pretty and sweet 🥺 and i want her to make me stay in bed even if we have patrol and being all clingy and cute 🥺

#need her

Stay in bed - abby anderson x reader

hi anon! this deadass made me sigh out of singleness... i hope you enjoy:)

Pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

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

warnings: none

Summary: in which you stayed in bed

masterlist

The early morning sun filtered through the gaps in the blinds, casting golden stripes across Abby's bare back as she lay on her side, one muscled arm tucked under the pillow, the other draped across your waist. You were tangled in the warmth of her, limbs lazy and heavy, breaths slow. The blanket clung to your hips, your skin still humming from last night’s closeness.

You hadn’t meant to stay up so late. Patrol had been long and cold, but Abby had pulled you close the second you got back—no words, just warmth and need. The way she kissed you last night, with a mixture of urgency and tenderness, had left you aching in the best way.

And now, in the quiet hush of dawn, you traced the curve of her shoulder with your fingertips, marveling at how someone so strong could feel so gentle.

“I know you’re awake,” you whispered against her skin, your lips brushing just beneath her ear.

Abby groaned, pulling you tighter into her. “I don’t want to get up. Not if it means leaving this.”

You smiled, heart fluttering. “We have patrol in an hour.”

Her arm curled more securely around you. “Fuck patrol.”

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. “That’s not very responsible of you, Anderson.”

Her head tilted up enough to look at you with sleep-heavy eyes. “What are they gonna do? Fire me?” She smirked, then softened when she saw your flushed cheeks, your thumb grazing her jaw. “You’re too pretty. You make it hard to care about anything else.”

Your breath caught. Abby didn’t always say things like that—not out loud. She was more action than words, more presence than poetry. But when she did speak like this, it was honest, and it hit you deep.

“I want to kiss your pretty little face forever,” you murmured, echoing the sentiment you’d once written anonymously in your journal. You leaned in and did just that—soft kisses at the corner of her mouth, down the curve of her jaw. “You’re so sweet when you’re like this.”

Abby’s hand slid under your shirt—her shirt, really—resting just at your waist. “You’re clingy,” she teased, but her voice was laced with affection. “I like it."

You laughed again, curling up closer, hiding your face in her chest. “You started it. You’re the one who pulled me in the second we walked through the door.”

“That’s different,” she said, kissing the top of your head. “You looked cold.”

“And now?”

“Now you look like mine,” she whispered.

There was a long silence after that. The kind that felt sacred. The kind that didn’t need filling.

Eventually, you felt her shift and sighed as she tried to move. “Nooo, stay.”

Abby chuckled and collapsed back onto the bed with exaggerated drama. “Fine. But just five more minutes.”

“Fifteen,” you bargained, arms locking around her waist.

She kissed your forehead. “Fifteen minutes. Then we do something irresponsible, like skip patrol and make breakfast naked.”

Your laugh turned into a snort. “We’ll get arrested.”

“Worth it,” she muttered sleepily, eyes already drifting closed again.

You stayed there, wrapped up in her, heart full. Maybe the world was still broken in a thousand different ways, but here, in this bed, you had a moment of peace. And Abby. That was enough.

Your last band Ellie fic was tooo good can you do rockstar Ellie with karma by raue

Karma - (ellie williams x reader)

Hi anon thanks for the compliment! firstly this song fucking slaps??? hello???? off topic but rockstar Ellie would be so hot too, like??? I hope you enjoy <3

This story is based off the song Karma by Raue, if you can please listen to the song as you're reading! This song is about betrayal, so I did not follow the lyric 100% but the overall message is the same:)

Pairing: ellie x fem!reader

requests are always open, feel free to leave one:)

Warnings: betrayal

Summary: In which you were her downfall

Authors note: It took be fucking forever to get this out because tumblr was not posting my shit but here it finally is! Remember you are loved an to always be kind <3

Ellie groaned as she saw the pictures of you and Abby Anderson.

Take your time

Do you remember all the things you said

Before I took what’s mine

Fear grows with time

It’s hard to believe all the things you did

While blurring out the line

Out of all the people Abby fucking Anderson. Her biggest rival.

"It'll make you feel worse if you keep looking at it" she heard Jesse talk from behind her.

All Ellie could do was throw her phone to the side.

"I know this I hard" Jesse started but before he could finish there was a knock on her dressing room door.

"Are you naked Williams?" she heard Dina yell from the other side.

"It's time for makeup"

"Yeah, yeah let her come in" Ellie sighed.

She heard Jesse chucked before she saw him get up.

"Try to forget about her, ok?" was all he said before he walked out.

Ellie looked at her self in the mirror for a while. She couldn't even recognize herself anymore. She went from a sweet an innocent girl to almost every parents nightmare.

She was covered in tattoos, her lips and tongue pierced. Once she had long hair, but it was cut short. She wore a black wife beater with a leather jacket and tight leather pants. Her neck was decorated with tattoos and chains.

Maybe getting all these tattoos was a good idea, it made her look cooler. It goes with her image.

Joel says it was a bad idea, that she would regret it one day. But she looks so fucking badass she tends to ignore his complaints.

The door soon opened and Dina walked in with her make up kit, practically running to Ellie.

"Fuck, fuck I'm late! I'm late! Maria's gonna kill me"

"Dina chill it's only some eyeliner"

"and foundation" she yelled dramatically as she zipped open her bag and started drawing Ellie's eyeliner on.

It was quiet, peaceful.

Too quiet for a rock show.

In the past Ellie performed in front of millions. She remembered how she almost went deaf because of how loud the crowd was screaming for her.

There were times she couldn't even walk in public alone without hundreds of people running after her. People begged her online to sell her used underwear at some point.

Ellie dominated the music industry with her unique rock style and unique lyrics.

She was a legend.

But now she was a nothing.

No one knew of the famous Ellie Williams anymore.

And it was all your fucking fault. You took that away from her.

The peaceful environment Ellie and Dina sat in was soon disrupted when Maria walked into the room whistling.

Ellie rolled her eyes.

"You look hot" Maria commented as she looked at Ellie through the mirror.

"You did good" Dina she added.

A smile appeared on her face "thank you" she beamed.

"I would've done something better but I was late"

"It's ok… now can you give Ellie and I some time alone"

All Dina did was nod as she started packing up her stuff.

Ellie looked herself in the mirror and she agreed. She looked fucking hot. She hoped that maybe tonight might be her comeback.

She looked good, she felt good and excited. Maybe people would still like her.

Ellie was snapped out of her thoughts when she heard the door close. It was just her and Maria left in the room.

"Ok look, you barley made any sales-"

"you don't think I fucking know that?" Ellie snapped.

"Getting mad at me won't do anything Ellie"

"you're my fucking manager do something!"

Maria sighed.

"Listen Ellie everyone is buying Andersons album-"

"then do something about it! put me on billboards, make my shit cheaper!"

The room was filed with silence, before Ellie spoke up again: "Maria I can't lose my career"

"I can't lose to her and Anderson" Ellie muttered as she looked down to the ground. defeated.

"Ellie you aren't making money anymore, nobody is buying tickets, you can't pay your staff… I think it's time to give up"

Hot tears filled Ellies eyes. She couldn't lose this. Her music was the only thing keeping her sane.

"If it wasn't for your ex girl maybe-"

But before Maria could finish Ellie got up from her chair and she walked towards her.

If looks could kill, Maria would be dead right now.

"Don't you ever talk about her again. She's fucking dead to me" Ellie said through gritted teeth.

Maria took a step back, afraid that Ellie would hit her.

"Ellie it's ok to be mad at her- but you need to stop holding this grudge. It's bad for you and your career"

Ellie looked to floor. Maybe Maria was right.

"Ellie I'm sorry-" she didn't even bother to stay and listen.

"if you stopped thinking about what she did, maybe you'd be able to save your career"

Ellies eyes widened, and her jaw dropped at what Maria said.

All Ellie did was grab her electric guitar and she walked out the room.

What Maria said hurt her. Ellie loved you. She dedicated her career to you and all you did was stab her in the back.

Maria was there when Ellie cried for you. Maria was there when Ellie realized she was losing followers. Maria was there when Abby announced that you had become her manager. Maria was there.

And this is what she had to say?

Fuck her.

"Don't cry. don't cry" Ellie muttered to herself.

It would ruin her make up. It would ruin the night. Maria already ruined it, but this would make it worse.

Ellie slung her guitar over her body, she heard her chains rattle at the sudden movement.

She walked onto the stage.

No screams. There was barley a crowd.

What do you expect if you perform at a rundown bar?

A few claps came from the so called crowd.

Ellie didn't even bother introducing herself, all she did was signal for Jesse to start the music.

As soon as the beat played Ellie felt alive. It felt like she'd she'd dead for years, starved even, now she's alive.

The music awoke something in her.

Ellie smiled, and when she looked at the crowd her smile dropped realizing, no one fucking cared.

She was wasting her talent on idiots. And it was your fault.

"Give it to me; I don’t want it

Give it to me; I won’t make you feel like someone else

Give it to me; I don’t want it

I’ve lost it"

No one in the crowd seemed to care.

She sang the lyrics with passion. With grace and talent.

Maybe she lose her fucking mind to believe that she could still be a rockstar.

It made headlines.

Awake to your mind

It’s hard to believe all the things he did

Before he said who’s right

Awake to the signs

It’s hard to bеlieve all the things hе said

Before he changed his mind

Abby Andersons new rock broke so many records.

It was all over the news.

Ellie didn't know what to feel. Jealous? Angry? Sad?

She knew she couldn't be mad at Abby, it wasn't her fault. It was yours.

You were the one that made her this big.

Ellie knew she couldn't be mad because at some point in her career that was her too.

You brought her that level of fame too, and you brutally took it away

Ellie met you a heavy metal concert one night.

"You like them too?" Ellie asked surprised when she saw a pretty girl like you in such a dark place.

"I'm fucking obsessed with them" you have her a bright smile.

And the rest was history.

You motivated Ellie to start her career. You motived her to continue with her passion for rock music. You helped her express herself.

You saw her talent.

Everything Ellie was, was because of you.

Most of Ellies first songs were love songs that she dedicated to you. She fell in love with you, and she was too afraid to tell you.

Maybe you didn't like her back and you were her manager after all, if she fucked it up, it would be awkward.

With Ellies unique lyrics and style her career quickly took off.

People loved what she put out, and because Ellie was attractive more and more people craved her.

With you by her side, she had more motivation to make music, hoping that you'd realize her feelings, that she had for you and that you'd like her back.

You were a marketing genius, you knew how to get her music out there in creative ways. You knew how to get Ellie's face everywhere.

Thanks to you, there was not one person in Jackson who didn't know who Ellie Williams was.

Interviews, photoshoots, music videos, you arranged everything. You made her famous.

One night you had asked her "who's your songs about? This girl must be stupid not to see that you love her"

Ellie's reply was a kiss. She put so much emotion into that kiss. She hoped you'd feel all her unspoken feelings.

"It's me?" you questions as she pulled away.

"yeah"

The two of you kissed, you spent the night making love, and you kissed once again. With you in her arms Ellie knew what her next song was going to be about.

The next morning when Ellie woke up you weren't there.

You had vanished. She had grabbed her phone seeing that you had blocked her.

What the fuck?

Ellie whet to her room and her music book was gone.

Years worth of music was gone.

You had left her without a manger and without a music book.

Soon after news broke that you were Abby's new manager and her first singles was one of Ellie's songs.

What the actual fuck.

You were using her. You never felt anything for Ellie. Your heart always belonged to Abby and you had promised your girlfriend that you'd make her famous, and you kept that promise.

Look at her.

She was bigger than Ellie Williams.

Abby's whole album was songs that Ellie wrote. For you.

You took her ideas, her fans, her joy, her love, her everything.

Ellie sobbed into her pillow as she saw the pictures of you and Abby. She saw the way Abby's career took off with her music.

Because of you, Ellie was left with nothing.

No music, no you, no fans. All she had was a failing career.

She was left alone and betrayed by the one she loved most