Ellie williams ! peek ۫

ever since you got into this school, your eyes were drawn to ellie williams. cool and interesting, and even if she naturally kept to herself, popularity came to her effortlessly. everybody knows her and everybody likes her, but nobody loves her like you do.

you know everything about her. from her favorite color to the flannel she keeps within easy reach. you know that despite being an avid fan of the savage starlight franchise, comic books, and trading cards, there are three volumes ellie doesn’t enjoy as much as the others, one of them being a filler she almost didn’t buy but purchased anyway just to keep her collection complete. you know she spent three years playing the guitar but only started getting calluses in the fourth. you know every book about space and dinosaurs sitting on her nightstand, books she never reads before bed even though she once promised herself she would.

so saying nobody else knew her like you did was truthful. you learned little things about her every day, almost effortlessly, just sitting a few seats behind her in class and observing. picking up the smallest details. or by going through joel’s facebook posts, because every now and then he’d upload something. you totally didn’t search for it yourself, it just appeared on your timeline. you definitely didn’t create a facebook account just for that.

being a wallflower did wonders. nobody noticed you. you were invisible to most, which meant you could overhear conversations, gather information without ever being spotted, and even follow her around school.

that’s what got you this far.

this... obsession. the more you knew ellie, the more you liked her, and the more you needed to be closer. it had been growing steadily, but lately it gnawed at you. it was becoming hard to control, pushing you to greater lengths.

initially it was nothing you hadn’t done before. ellie had a habit, when p.e. came around, of only going to the locker room after everyone else had already left, preferring to change alone. knowing that, you’d hide inside your locker to watch her undress, watch her move, and watch her skin. often with your hand in your panties.

then it escalated. you learned about the lock system, used it to break into her locker, taking her uniform and pressing the humid fabric, still warm with sweat, against your face, inhaling her scent. you were tempted to take something, but you were too afraid she’d notice. you liked your invisibility.

finally, one day, you caught yourself looking at her from afar. already outside the school building, standing on the sidewalk, you saw her making her way home slowly, one earphone in, plugged into her loyal walkman, wire swaying in the wind.

and in a sudden burst of courage, you started walking the same way. several steps behind, but still, you followed her. daring for the first time. not once did she notice you. it felt intoxicating. only when you saw dina and jesse approaching and ellie started walking with them did you stop, slipping into the nearest street corner.

through the whole way home, even after you turned down your own street, your heart pounded. but the rapid flutter wasn’t from the risk of being caught. it was something else. something worse. and from there you kept getting bolder. not necessarily following her, you didn’t often do that, but you stole things. a neutral, cheap lip balm from her backpack that dina got her because she kept biting her lips. a pen. a sketch tucked between pages of her sketchbook, drawn on a green post-it. and finally, a hoodie she forgot on the locker room bench after p.e.

all of that led you to this moment: ellie’s place.

you knew her routine, most of it. it wasn’t hard to learn. though she didn’t have a strict routine, ellie did have patterns. in the mornings she got ready quickly, six minutes tops before catching the bus. she rarely skipped school, but if she did it was usually wednesdays or fridays, sleeping until nine, sometimes ten.

after waking, she’d go through her morning routine, eat breakfast, then grab her phone to answer messages and scroll through socials. then she’d leave the garage, often to run errands for maria or joel. if she didn’t have errands, she’d do homework or small chores in her room.

later, when she was free, she’d either go out with friends or stay home. no specific plan, just depending on mood.

at night she’d return home and either collapse on the couch, social battery drained, scrolling through her phone, or, if she felt inspired, sit at her desk and draw while listening to something. sometimes she’d grab her guitar and learn a new song.

afterwards, if she didn’t get too absorbed and forget everything else, she’d make dinner and eat in front of the tv with a movie playing.

but that wasn’t all. she read when she remembered, comics or books on space. she liked videogames. sometimes she'd take the day to organize her things, separating clothes by season and preference, older ones stacked at the top of the wardrobe.

she was consistent. and that made this possible.

you came in from the window on the side of it, feet landing on the rug, and the smell of the place hit you immediately, familiar and warm. to your left side were ellie's unmade bed and to your right was the whole closet area and like you knew, everything was well organized—starting at the very corner: a stand placed on the ground and, in it, her beautiful guitar carved by joel himself, a gift. then there's her tv, a good size, placed on top of a chest of drawers that by itself is positioned under open shelves which, by the way, is where ellie's clothes, and also a few boxed comics, were.

not perfectly tidy, but neat.

you took the first step, entering the place with a slow pace of a sneak. your hands touched the wood and its rough texture, and your eyes took in every detail more clearly, taking in the sight of the black guitar case on top of her makeshift closet that is near the boxes named "more comics" that is beside the one named "even more comics"—which made you chuckle—written in black pen on tape. your eyes also found the movie and game collection below it and also on a shelf that is above the tv, and besides the tv itself a section of hanging clothes like flannels and jackets.

your hand reached for your favorite one, the blue flannel. you brought it to your face and inhaled. it felt like she was wrapping her arms around you. if you closed your eyes, you could imagine her there, looking at you in a way that made your heart skip.

you let go reluctantly and looked around.

the bedroom area is rather simple. a bedside table with an alarm clock telling time on red digits, the unmade bed itself, and above it a pinboard with sketches, polaroids and, on its shelf, more books and even a cute snow globe. on the other side of the bed another bedside table with a lampshade.

across it, the living area. a green fabric partially covering the garage door, fairy lights draped across, and a couch beside a bookcase. a second rug adorn the floor and, on the center, a square coffee table with a lower shelf holding books and board games.

on the right corner there is a franklin-style fireside. besides it, a cabinet marked by several shallow dents left by ellie's switchblade. on top of the furniture, a lampshade. both near the entrance door.

then you saw her desk. art supplies, canvases, some finished. excitement bubbled up. you hurried forward and accidentally knocked something down. a box from the closet.

you froze, picking it up quickly. you meant to put it back, but curiosity got the better of you. inside was a strap-on. translucent pink, about seven inches, with a black harness.

your eyes widened. something twisted in your stomach. you should put it away. but it was tempting.

you glanced at the clock.

---

on ellie’s bed, your bottoms were discarded on the floor. it hadn’t taken much to get excited. just being inside her place had your stomach fluttering long before you found the toy. the whole room smelled like her, like you were surrounded by her.

curtains drawn, toy in hand, you eased it into yourself slowly, inch by inch, gripping the base. lips pressed tight, eyes shut, feeling every stretch.

your pace started slow, then gradually quickened until the only sounds were your breath and the wet slide of movement. it felt overwhelming, the thrill of doing it in her bed, her scent around you, using her strap. you imagined it was her.

you wondered how she’d touch you. soft? dominant? rough when frustrated? desperate when stressed? you imagined her hands on your waist, her shy noises muffled against your shoulder. her trying to look at your face, then getting flustered. the thoughts pushed you closer, legs trembling, hips stuttering.

and just as you neared the edge, the front door lock clicked.

then her voice.

"what. the. fuck?"