alessia

{ junkie elliot x reader}

{ ! } contains: elliot (euphoria) x reader, second person pov, past relationship / exes, addiction & drug use (not romanticized), emotional caretaking, late-night vulnerability, dark humor, complicated feelings, soft angst + comfort

you hate drugs. not in the way people announce it loudly, like a personality trait. you hate them quietly. you hate the smell that sticks to clothes. you hate how conversations loop and stall. you hate how people you love turn soft around the edges and then disappear right in front of you.

which is insane, considering you dated elliot.

elliot who always said he had it “under control.” elliot who made addiction sound poetic when it was really just exhausting. elliot who you loved so carefully you almost forgot to protect yourself.

you tried. god, you tried. water bottles, food reminders, gentle voices, angry voices, silence. you tried sitting on the bathroom floor with him at three in the morning while he talked about nothing and everything. you tried pretending it didn’t scare you. you tried pretending love would be enough.

eventually, you stopped trying.

that’s why it hurts when there’s a knock on your door at 11:47 pm and your chest tightens before you even open it.

you already know.

elliot is leaning against the doorframe when you open it, swaying slightly, hoodie half-zipped, eyes glassy and unfocused. he smiles when he sees you, slow and crooked, like your face takes a second to register.

“hey,” he says. “wow. you’re still… you, you’re you and you’re alive.”

you stare at him. “you’re high.”

he nods, like that’s a fun fact. “yeah.”

“elliot,” you say, already tired.

“wait,” he adds quickly, squinting at you. “don’t close the door. i’ll cry.”

you don’t believe him, but you don’t close it either.

you step aside and he stumbles in, shoes half-off, collapsing onto your couch like gravity finally won. he exhales deeply, eyes fluttering.

“your couch,” he murmurs. “still feels judgmental.”

you cross your arms. “you can’t keep showing up like this.”

he looks at you, drowsy and sincere. “i know.”

“then why are you here.”

he thinks about it for a long time. too long.

“missed you,” he says finally. “and you don’t smell like smoke or my room.”

you swallow.

he tilts his head, eyes half-lidded. “also i like your uh… face. pretty cute.”

you scoff despite yourself. “you’re unbelievable.”

“yeah,” he smiles. “that’s what everyone says, even the math teacher.”

he goes quiet for a moment, then suddenly sits up straighter, eyes widening with misplaced intensity.

“wait,” he says. “are you mad about the 42 guys.”

you blink. “what.”

“you know,” he gestures vaguely. “when i told rue and jules. the 42 i fucked. i feel like that information follows me.”

you rub your forehead. “elliot, i don’t care about the 42.”

he relaxes immediately. “okay. good. because that would be a weird thing to fight about.”

“i care that you’re high in my apartment,” you say.

he nods. “fair.”

you grab a glass of water and hand it to him. “drink.”

he squints at it like it might insult him. “bossy, i like it, sexy.”

“drink.”

he does, spilling a little on his hoodie. “see. i’m hydrating.”

you sit on the edge of the couch, keeping distance. “you can’t do this anymore.”

he looks at you. really looks at you this time. the joking fades, replaced by something quieter.

“i know,” he says softly. “you tried to fix me for too long.”

“i didn’t try to fix you,” you say. “i tried to help you.”

“same thing,” he murmurs. “different pressure.”

you sigh. “i can’t be that person anymore.”

he nods. “i know. i didn’t come here to ask you to.”

“then why did you come.”

he leans back, eyes heavy. “because when i’m like this, you’re the only place that feels… safe.”

that’s the part that hurts. not the drugs. not the jokes. that.

he yawns, head tilting toward your shoulder without touching it. you freeze.

“don’t,” you say quietly.

“sorry,” he murmurs, pulling back. “forgot the rules.”

you stand. “you should lie down. you’re gonna fall asleep sitting up.”

he looks surprised. “you’re letting me stay?”

“just until you sober up,” you say quickly. “don’t read into it.”

he smiles faintly. “i won’t. i’m bad at reading.”

you grab a blanket and drape it over him. his eyes flutter closed for a second.

“hey,” he murmurs.

“what.”

“you were the only person who ever tried to save me without asking me to be different,” he says.

your throat tightens. “that’s not true.”

“it is,” he says softly. “you just wanted me alive.”

he reaches out, fingers brushing yours. you pull back immediately, heart racing.

“elliot,” you warn.

“sorry,” he whispers again. “i know. boundaries. you’re good at those now.”

you sit on the floor instead, back against the couch, close but not touching. he watches you with heavy eyes.

“it’s hard,” he says. “not wanting to ruin you.”

you don’t answer.

he yawns again. “i’m glad you hate drugs.”

“why.”

“means you’re not like me,” he says. “means you get out.”

his eyes close. his breathing evens out. you sit there, listening, fighting every instinct to lean closer, to fix, to stay longer than you should.

you don’t move.

not because it’s easy.

but because you finally learned the difference between love and losing yourself.

{ popular reader x junkie elliot }

{ ! } contains: smut in the SLIGHTEST, a party, mentions of stealing alcohol, weed .. etc

theres been a rumor about you and elliot supposedly seeing eachother, is it a rumor if its true? you’ve been hearing it for weeks now. whispers in hallways, girls leaning into each other at parties, maddy and your own friends friends giving you those looks when elliot walks past, half curious, half judgmental.

it doesn’t make sense to them. you, always put together, always surrounded by people, always the one everyone’s looking at. and him weird, awkward, distant, always a little too high or a little too gone.

rumors don’t start from nothing.

the party is loud, bodies packed too close together, music vibrating through your chest as you stand near the kitchen with maddy and the others. you barely hear what they’re saying. you can feel it that stare.

you glance up. elliot’s across the room, leaning against the wall smoking a joint , eyes locked on you. he doesn’t look away when you catch him. he just tilts his head slightly, like he’s studying you, like he’s trying to figure something out he already knows the answer to.

your heart does something weird. you look away first.

later, when the party starts thinning out, when people are either passed out or spilling into ubers, you slip outside. the air is cooler, quieter. it’s almost 2 am.

you wrap your arms around yourself, your short light pink dress riding up slightly against your thighs as you lean against the side of the house. your pearl necklace rests cold against your collarbone, catching the faint glow of the porch light.

you hear the door creak behind you.

“you leaving?”

you don’t have to turn to know it’s him. you can smell the weed and just feel his presence.

elliot steps closer, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes softer now but still fixed on you.

“i was gonna call an uber,” you shrug.

he shakes his head slightly. “i’ll take you.”

you hesitate. just for a second. then you nod.

his car smells faintly like smoke and something sweeter, something you don’t ask about. you notice it right away the cracked window on the passenger side, jagged lines running through the glass.

you trace it lightly with your fingers. “what happened?”

he glances over, one hand loose on the wheel.

“me, rue, and jules tried to steal from this liquor store,” he says casually, like it’s just another story. “guy didn’t like that too much.”

you huff out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “of course you did.”

he smirks faintly, eyes back on the road.

after that, it goes quiet.

not awkward. just… still.

the kind of silence that feels heavy with things you’re not saying. streetlights pass over your skin in soft flashes, lighting up the pale pink of your dress, the shine of your necklace, the way your legs are crossed toward him without you realizing it.

he notices.

of course he does.

a few blocks from your house, he slows down. then stops completely. the engine is still running.

you turn your head slightly. “elliot—”

he’s already looking at you.

there’s something different in his expression now. not distant. not detached. something sharper.

his jaw tightens as he exhales through his nose, eyes dragging over you like he’s trying not to.

“you know what’s fucked?” he mutters.

you don’t answer.

“everybody wants you.” his voice is low, almost bitter, like the words taste wrong coming out. “every guy in that house tonight” he cuts himself off, shaking his head.

you stay still, watching him.

“they all look at you like they already have you,” he continues, quieter now. “like it’s just a matter of time.”

his fingers tap once against the steering wheel before he looks back at you, really looks at you.

“and you just let them.”

it’s not an accusation. not really. it sounds more like something he hates admitting.

you swallow, your hand tightening slightly in your lap. “why do you care?”

the question hangs there.

he laughs softly, but there’s no humor in it.

“i don’t,” he says quickly. too quickly.

another silence. heavier this time.

his eyes drop to your necklace, following the line of pearls around your throat before flicking back up to your face.

“you don’t belong to any of them,” he mutters, almost to himself.

your breath catches slightly.

“what? so i belong to you now?” you give him an expression mixed with annoyance and genuine curiosity.

“i didn’t say—“ you cut him off by unbuckling your seatbelt. and leaning in more towards him. he watches you cautiously. “i didn’t mean to upset you or—“ you roll your eyes and grab his face kissing him roughly.

when you pull back, his eyes are wide, his mouth still open.

he doesn’t say a word.

he opens the car door and of course, he wasn’t even wearing a seatbelt.

he slams the door shut before opening your door grabbing your arm letting you out of his car your back hits the car, and he holds each side of your face with his hands and kisses you, rougher.

he opens the door of the backseat.

he pushes you inside gently.

“they can want you all they want,” he says, voice softer now, rougher. “doesn’t mean they get you.”

he slowly lowers top of your dress revealing the strapless lacy bra you were wearing.

he goes on top of you kissing the top of your breasts.

“elliot..” he pulls back to look at your face. his expression softens, “do you want me to stop? ill stop right now— i’m sorry i didn’t—“

you shake your head, “don’t stop.”

thats when that smirk came back on his face. he slowly lowers your dress till you’re just in your bra and underwear he tosses your dress to the front seat.

he trails kisses down your body, gently. his fingers hook into the lace scrap you called a “underwear” he pulls it off.

he lowers his head.. then you feel his tongue. you let out a soft whine. one of his hands were holding your leg from closing. the other caressing your lower stomach.

his mouth doing wonders your clit, sucking, kissing gently. his tongue moves around slowly, you feel a small inch of his nose make contact as well. the sounds are wet, the small sound of his groan before he kept going.

authors note: guys smut makes me feel so awkward to write i’m sorry you all had to go through reading 😅😅 i am not well with sexual writing because personally haven’t been involved that yet.

Now three episodes in it's clear to me something is off with the show, and the choice to de-kinecticize the storytelling, and pare down the needle drops and score is not working for me. The wedding ought to have been an explosive set-piece, not just visually but for the character interactions, but almost every interaction played out like a quick first draft of what you would expect. Lexi did nothing, Rue bailed, Maddy never interacted with the bride and groom, all of the landmines didn't go off. First season Sam would've had the entire episode dedicated to the wedding and would've had it send off to a deep cut song that arrived like an exhale from the adrenaline. The deliberate pacing may have seemed conceptually like a good idea for this season but it just hangs there awkwardly.

I liked the Fez bit.

no literally 🫩 season 2 ended in a place that could’ve been so compelling for cassie as a character!!! nate had just broken up with her, she was completely alone and you could see her starting to question everything about her choices and what would happen next.

they literally had the PERFECT setup to explore how her behavior ties back to her past trauma and how her fixation on nate came from that desperate need to feel loved and cared for but instead they just flattened her into this weird caricature of a bratty spoiled wife??? like suddenly she only cares about money and acts like she’s above needing nate at all??? like what