Twix

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ “I kinda wanna sleep with you alone I kinda wanna break up on the phone I never wanna hear you say goodbye” ˚. ᵎᵎ

#Genetrxworld | active almost everyday | rant

18-⊹˙⋆ @genetrxworld - Gene⋆˙⊹

Masterlist

series

Ellie x reader

Between us p1 p2 p3 (discontinued)

Threaded to you p1 p2

Abby x reader

The long game p1 p2 p3 p4 p5 p6

Oneshot

Abby x reader

Brothers bestfriend

Ellie x reader

Rumors p2

Mood board

Between us

The long game

Threaded to you

Specials

Holiday fun- between us

—-Threaded to You~•

Synopsis: After getting a job at a flower shop to fit into human society, you reunite with Ellie.

A/N: I’m back sorry I’ve been gone a lot of stuff has happened in my life

It’s been a week since you last went to the bar.

Seven days of pretending you don’t feel it.

Seven days of the thread pulling anyway.

The Archive through very persistent reminders has encouraged you to “integrate into human society.” Which apparently means errands, furniture, and learning how to exist like a normal person.

So here you are.

Walking through the city with no real destination, just trying to make this place feel less temporary.

That’s when you see it.

A small flower shop tucked between two buildings, almost hidden if you weren’t paying attention. Vines curl along the outside walls, framing the windows. Inside, color spills everywhere soft pinks, deep reds, bright yellows.

There’s a sign on the door.

We’re Hiring.

You pause.

The Archive has been pushing you to get a job. Something about “blending in” and “developing human routine.”

You push the door open.

A small bell chimes above you as you step inside.

The scent hits immediately.

Your face scrunches.

…That is not pleasant.

So this is what humans romanticize?

Still, you move further in, eyes scanning the rows of flowers, trying to understand the appeal.

“Welcome to Flutter & Flowers! Need help with anything?”

You turn.

She’s pretty curly hair pulled back loosely, warm tan skin, bright eyes. Her name tag reads Dina.

“Oh uh, yeah.” you say, a little too formal. “I was actually wondering if I could apply for a job here.”

She freezes.

Then her entire face lights up.

“Oh my wait, really?” she blurts, then winces. “Sorry. That was loud. I just yeah. You’re hired.”

You blink.

“…Hired?”

“Yeah.”

“…Without an interview?”

She waves a hand. “I should do that, yeah. But it’s just me running this place and I’ve been begging my friends to fill in shifts, so honestly? If you’re willing to work, you’re already perfect.”

You hesitate, processing.

This feels suspiciously easy.

“But my name’s Dina,” she adds quickly. “What’s yours?”

You tell her.

She grins and hands you her phone. “Put your number in.”

You do.

Your first contact.

Before you can really sit with that, you hear movement from the back.

Footsteps.

Something in your chest tightens instantly.

You turn.

And

There she is.

Green eyes. Auburn hair. Freckles scattered like light across her skin.

The thread pulls.

Harder than before.

Your gaze drops her lips, the curve of them, the way

“Hey. You good?”

You snap back.

Dina’s watching you.

“Oh yeah. Yes. I’m fine.”

She gives you a look like she doesn’t fully believe you, but lets it go.

Then

“Oh, hey, Angel.”

Your entire body goes still.

Ellie leans against the counter like this is the most normal thing in the world. Like she didn’t just rewire your entire existence a week ago.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” she says, a small smile tugging at her mouth.

“Y-yeah,” you manage. “I was just…walking.”

Great.

Incredible.

You sound like you’ve never spoken before.

Ellie huffs a quiet laugh, and yeah she definitely noticed.

Dina’s eyes flick between the two of you.

“You guys know each other?”

“Yeah,” Ellie says easily. “She came into the bar last week. We talked.”

There’s something in her tone. Casual.

Too casual.

“Right,” Dina mutters, side-eyeing Ellie. “I know how you get.”

Dina leans in toward Ellie, lowering her voice but not enough.

“She’s my new hire,” she whispers. “So behave. Keep it in your pants.”

Then she disappears into the back.

You are left standing there.

With her.

Silence stretches.

You panic.

“I should go,” you say quickly.

“Leaving without a flower?” Ellie asks, pushing off the counter. “Kinda defeats the purpose of being in a flower shop.”

You hesitate.

“…I suppose I do need flowers.”

“Yeah,” she says, softer now. “You do.”

You turn, walking through the shop, trying to ignore the very real fact that you can feel her eyes on you.

You pick the first thing that feels right.

Soft pink sweet peas.

You bring them to the counter.

“Can I get these, please?”

Ellie takes them from your hands.

Her fingers brush yours.

The thread pulses.

Strong. Alive. Demanding.

You don’t react this time.

You just breathe through it.

“Good choice,” she says quietly.

You look up.

She’s already looking at you.

And this time

You don’t look away.

Ellie keeps the flowers in her hands a second longer than necessary, turning the stems between her fingers like she’s inspecting them.

“Sweet peas,” she hums. “Didn’t take you for the soft flower type.”

You blink. “There are aggressive flowers?”

That earns a laugh out of her.

Not the louder one she gives customers. This one is quieter. Warmer. Like it slips out before she can stop it.

“God, you’re weird,” she says, shaking her head.

Your stomach flips at the fondness hidden in it.

You glance down at the flowers. “Are they bad?”

“No.” Ellie reaches for brown paper, wrapping the flowers carefully. “They’re actually kinda fitting.”

You try not to think too hard about what that means.

The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable this time. Just full. You watch her hands move as she folds the paper around the stems. Rough fingertips. Rings catching the light. Tiny scars scattered across her knuckles.

Human hands.

You wonder what they’d feel like holding yours on purpose.

Immediately, you force that thought away.

Dangerous.

“So,” Ellie says after a moment, sliding the flowers toward you, “you really workin’ here now?”

“I believe so.”

“You believe so?”

“Well, Dina hired me in under thirty seconds, which feels concerning.”

Ellie snorts. “Yeah, that sounds like Dina.”

You reach for your wallet, but Ellie stops you before you can pull anything out.

“Don’t worry about it.”

You pause. “I still need to pay.”

“Nah.” She leans against the counter. “Employee discount.”

“I haven’t worked a shift yet.”

“Future employee discount, then.”

You stare at her for a second too long.

The thread hums softly beneath your ribs.

“No one has ever given me flowers before,” you admit before thinking better of it.

Ellie’s teasing expression falters just slightly.

“Seriously?”

You nod.

For some reason, that seems to affect her more than expected. Her gaze softens, shoulders relaxing as she looks at you like she’s trying to solve something.

“Well,” she says quietly, “there’s a first time for everything, Angel.”

You carefully take the flowers from her, trying not to react when your fingers brush again. The pull is still there steady, deep, impossible to ignore but it no longer feels like something dragging you under.

Now it feels like something asking you to stay.

Ellie watches you tuck the flowers close to your chest.

Then she smirks a little.

“You still planning on disappearing every time I talk to you?”

Heat climbs your neck immediately. “I did not disappear.”

“You literally ran outta the bar.”

“I was overwhelmed.”

“Oh?” Ellie’s grin widens. “By me?”

Your mouth opens.

Closes.

Ellie laughs before you can embarrass yourself further.

“Cute,” she says under her breath.

Your heart nearly stops.

Before you can recover, Dina suddenly reappears from the back room carrying a box.

“Oh good, you’re still here,” she says to you. Then, to Ellie “Stop flirting with my employee.”

“I’m not flirting,” Ellie replies instantly.

Dina gives her a look.

You, unfortunately, answer at the same time Ellie does.

“She is not flirting.”

Ellie turns toward you so fast she almost looks offended.

“You make it sound like I can’t flirt.”

“I did not mean.”

Dina bursts out laughing.

Ellie’s staring at you now, amused in a way that makes your pulse stumble all over itself.

“Careful, Angel,” she says, stepping a little closer. “You keep looking at me like that and people are gonna start getting ideas.”

The thread pulses once.

Strong.

Certain.

Suddenly there’s a loud thud on the countertop

Dina sighs

“Okay, so,” she says, already sounding tired of her own problem, “I need someone to go pick up ribbon and flower wrap from the supplier because apparently someone forgot we were almost out.”

Ellie points at herself immediately. “Why’re you lookin’ at me like I did it?”

“Because you absolutely did.”

“I did not.”

“You used half the pink ribbon tying fake bows onto Jesse last week.”

“That was funny.”

“It was annoying,” Dina corrects. “And now you’re fixing it.”

Ellie groans loudly, dragging a hand down her face. “Dinaaa. No. The train’s gonna be packed and people are gonna smell weird.”

“You live in Boston.”

“And?”

“And you can survive public transportation for twenty minutes, you’ve been through worse.”

Ellie leans back against the counter like she’s preparing a legal defense. “Counterpoint no.”

Dina narrows her eyes. “Ellie.”

“No.”

“Ellie.”

“Nope.”

You stand there quietly holding your flowers, watching the exchange with growing confusion. Their arguments move strangely fast, overlapping effortlessly.

It’s nice.

Chaotic, but nice.

Ellie notices you watching and points accusingly at Dina. “See? You’re stressing out the new employee.”

“I am not stressed,” you say automatically.

“You look stressed.”

“I always look like this.”

Ellie snorts.

Dina crosses her arms. “You’re going.”

“I literally just got here.”

“And now you’re leaving.”

Ellie mutters something under her breath that definitely sounds insulting.

Then, before you can overthink it

“I could go with you,” you offer.

Both of them look at you.

You shift awkwardly under the attention. “If assistance is needed.”

Ellie straightens slightly.

“You’d come with me?”

The way she asks it does something embarrassing to your heartbeat.

You nod once. “I just need to drop these flowers off at my apartment first.”

There’s barely half a second of silence before Ellie says,

“Okay. We can head to your place, then go run Dina’s errands.”

Too quick.

Way too quick.

Dina’s eyebrows shoot up so fast they nearly disappear into her hairline.

“Ohhh,” she says slowly.

Ellie immediately looks defensive. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re making a face.”

“I’m literally not.”

“You are absolutely making a face.”

Dina grins directly at you now, clearly enjoying herself far too much.

“Interesting,” she says casually. “Because five seconds ago, riding the train was apparently a form of psychological torture.”

Ellie pushes off the counter. “Shut up.”

“And suddenly now she’s totally willing to go-”

“Dina.”

“-because a certain pretty new employee offered to come along.”

Heat floods your face instantly.

Ellie looks equally annoyed and flustered, which somehow makes the thread spark happily inside your chest.

“I was gonna go anyway,” Ellie lies terribly.

Dina stares at her.

You stare at her.

Even Ellie seems unconvinced by what just came out of her mouth.

Dina breaks first, laughing as she hands Ellie a crumpled list.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Williams.”

Ellie snatches the paper from her hands with a glare. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” Dina says sweetly, “you adore me.”

Ellie rolls her eyes before looking back at you.

The irritation softens immediately.

“C’mon, Angel,” she says, nodding toward the door. “Let’s go drop off your flowers.”

You go without hesitation.

The second you step outside with Ellie beside you, the city feels different.

Louder somehow.

Too aware.

Cold air brushes against your face as people move around you in hurried waves, conversations blending into car horns and distant music. Ellie walks like she’s done this a thousand times hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket, shoulders relaxed, boots hitting the pavement with easy confidence.

You try very hard not to stare.

“So,” she says after a minute, glancing sideways at you, “you always this awkward, or am I special?”

Your head snaps toward her. “I am not awkward.”

Ellie grins immediately. “That bad, huh?”

You frown. “You enjoy making me nervous.”

“Yeah, a little.”

At least she’s honest.

You look away before she notices how warm your face gets.

The walk to your apartment isn’t far, but it’s enough time for you to realize something deeply unfortunate:

Ellie talks to everyone.

An old man walking his dog?

“Hey Frank.”

Someone skateboarding past?

“Don’t eat shit this time.”

A woman smoking outside a corner store flips her off affectionately and Ellie laughs like this happens daily.

“You know a lot of people,” you blurt before thinking.

Ellie gives you a smirk. “Jealous?”

You freeze.

Recover. Quickly.

“Why would I be jealous that you know people.” You say rolling your eyes

Ellie laughs it’s loud and warm has a nice airiness to it “never seen the sassy side of you I like it.”

You feel your face heating up so you look away

Your apartment building finally comes into view, tucked above a bookstore with flickering lights in the window. Ellie follows you inside, looking around curiously as you climb the stairs.

“You live here alone?”

“Yes.”

“Damn.” Ellie whistles softly. “Look at you. Responsible and shit.”

You unlock the door and step inside first.

The apartment is…decent. Warm lighting. A couch the Archive insisted was “modern.” Shelves with barely anything on them. It still doesn’t fully look lived in.

Ellie steps in behind you and immediately notices.

“You just move here or something?”

“A few weeks ago.”

“That explains why it looks like a furniture catalog.”

You blink. “Is that bad?”

“It means nobody’s touched anything.” Ellie gestures around. “No mess. No personality.”

You glance around the apartment.

You hadn’t thought about that.

At the Archive, spaces shifted constantly. Nobody really owned things long enough to leave pieces of themselves behind.

Humans did.

You carefully set the flowers into a vase near the window, adjusting them until they sit right.

When you turn back around, Ellie’s watching you.

Not in the casual way from before.

Softer.

“What?” you ask quietly.

“Nothin’.” She shrugs. “You just seem different here.”

Different.

You don’t know what that means, so you just nod awkwardly and grab your jacket again.

“We should go,” you say. “Dina requested the ribbon.”

Ellie groans dramatically. “God, don’t remind me.”

You smile before you can stop yourself.

Ellie notices instantly.

There’s a brief pause.

Then her expression shifts into something smug.

“Oh my god,” she says. “Was that a smile?”

You immediately straighten. “I smile often.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do.”

“You smile like you’re filing paperwork.”

“That does not make sense.”

Ellie laughs again, bright and effortless, and suddenly your apartment doesn’t feel quite as empty as it did five minutes ago.

Then she opens the door for you with a mock bow.

Rumors 2

Synopsis: Ellie wants to take you for a ride wonder where you guys will go.

Content: fluff, cute, confession, stargazing

A/n: hope yall like it l. Ik it’s shorten than a lot of my others and it’s because im going on vacation and I’ve been busy.

After everything that went down with you and Ellie at the party, she somehow managed to get even more annoying… and way more clingy.

It’s Friday. School just let out, and you’re already halfway out the doors, thinking about finally getting home, when you hear that voice.

“Hey, babe.”

You stop. Slowly turn. Roll your eyes.

“Don’t call me that. We’re not together.”

Ellie’s standing there, that same stupid, childish grin on her face the one that makes your chest feel weird and your lips fight the urge to smile back.

“What do you want?” you ask, crossing your arms.

She shrugs, rocking back on her heels like she’s got all the time in the world. “Can I offer you a ride?”

Your eyebrow lifts.

You don’t have your car yet. Walking is getting old. And…if you’re being honest…you didn’t hate the last time you were in her truck.

“A ride where?”

Ellie’s grin widens yeah, she definitely knows she’s winning right now.

“Wherever the wind takes us.”

You stare at her for a second, fully aware she’s hiding something. But honestly? You don’t care enough to fight it.

“…Fine.”

You’re in Ellie’s truck, cruising down the highway. The music is low, your playlist playing through aux thank God so you don’t have to focus on the way she keeps sneaking glances at you like she’s nervous.

“You’re driving us pretty far,” you point out, glancing out the window.

No response.

You look over. “So you’re just gonna ignore me until we get wherever we’re going?”

Ellie hums softly, eyes still on the road.

You huff, shaking your head, and go back to your phone.

An hour passes.

The music fades into background noise, and your attention drifts to the streetlights, the dark stretch of road…and then it clicks.

You sit up straighter.

“Wait…are we star gazing?”

Ellie’s lips twitch into a smile.

Your heart does something weird.

You used to do this all the time with your dad. It was your thing quiet nights, open skies, just the two of you. You haven’t gone since he passed.

And now…

You’re smiling. You don’t even realize it at first.

That was…thoughtful.

When you finally pull up, you step out of the truck, breathing in the crisp, cool air. It smells clean out here. Quiet.

Peaceful.

“Hey,” Ellie calls, already moving around the truck, “can you help me grab stuff from the back seat?”

You walk over. “What do you need?”

“Blankets. I’ll get the pillows.”

“Got it.

You grab the blankets while Ellie gathers the pillows, and together you set everything up in the truck bed layering blankets, tossing a comforter over top until it looks… actually kind of perfect.

You climb in first, settling down, getting comfortable.

Ellie joins you a second later, laying beside you.

“How’d you know I’d like this?” you ask softly, eyes already drifting up to the sky.

“Mutual friends,” she says. “They talk.”

You hum in response, watching the stars stretch endlessly above you. It’s beautiful. Way more than you expected.

You close your eyes, letting the breeze brush against your skin, listening to the quiet…and Ellie’s breathing beside you.

There’s something about it. Something calm.

Ellie, meanwhile, is staring at you like she forgot how to function.

“Hey,” she says quietly, “can you keep your eyes closed for a sec?”

You don’t question it. Just nod slightly.

A moment passes. You hear her moving around, shuffling something.

“Okay… you can open them.”

You do.

And there she is holding a little basket. A boo basket. Inside are snacks, small gifts…and a sign.

Will you be my girlfriend?

You can’t help it. You smile, looking down for a second.

“Are you gonna give me an answer?” Ellie asks, trying to sound chill, but her voice gives her away.

You pretend to think, tapping your chin dramatically.

“Hmm… I don’t know…”

Ellie groans softly, nerves clearly eating her alive.

You laugh under your breath, then look up at her.

“Yes, Ellie. I will be your girlfriend.”

For a second, she just stares at you like her brain needs to reboot.

Then her face lights up, that goofy smile spreading so wide it’s actually ridiculous, like you just saved her life or something.

“Wait seriously?”

“Ellie.”

“Right. Yeah. Okay. Sorry.”

You shake your head, smiling.

She sets the basket down quickly, then hesitates, like she’s not sure what to do next.

You raise an eyebrow. “You gonna just stand there, or…?”

That’s all it takes.

Ellie leans in slow at first, giving you time to pull away.

You don’t.

So she closes the distance.

Her lips press against yours, soft, a little unsure at first but when you kiss her back, it’s like something in her clicks. Her hand comes up, gently cupping your cheek, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens just slightly.

It’s warm. Comfortable. Real.

Not rushed. Not messy.

Just…right.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads rest together, both of you a little breathless.

Ellie lets out a quiet laugh, like she can’t believe this is real.

“Hi….babe.”

You roll your eyes but this time, you’re smiling.

“…Hi.”

Synopsis: you wake up to a photo of you and your rival at a party going viral and now you’re freaking out cause how did yall even end up like that.

Content: fake dating turn real, fluff, kissing, banter, yearning, she fell first but she falls harder.

A/N: there may be a part 2 we’ll see

Words: 1,750

You wake up with a crazy hangover head pounding, nauseous, almost feeling like this may be your last day.

When suddenly you check your phone to your friends blowing it up, asking about the party last night.

You’re confused, ’cause you don’t recall doing anything that crazy, when all of a sudden you see a photo of you twerking on Ellie all over your feed and in the group chat.

“Fuck my fucking chungus life.”

You drag your hand through your hair, not even knowing what to do. You can’t say it was a misunderstanding there’s literally photo evidence. You couldn’t say it wasn’t her when her very much identifiable tattoo is in the photo.

You’re pacing around your room. There’s no way you were throwing ass on your rival. Y’all are both always at each other’s necks, whether it’s about grades, attendance, who cooks better literally anything you can think of.

So you know this is her doing. Somehow, some way, she did this to fuck you up. It’s a very Ellie thing to do.

You pick up your phone and pull up her Instagram, texting her:

“Hey, did you upload that photo of us at the party?”

A few minutes go by nothing. You weren’t really expecting a fast reply, but this is an emergency.

You get a text back: “Why is it bothering you.”

You let out a scoff, typing fast now. “Of course it’s bothering me, Williams. I’m having so many people asking me if we’re dating and that they knew we had more feelings than hating each other.”

You see she reads your message but doesn’t reply back for another twenty minutes. “I swear she better be happy that we don’t have school today, ’cause I would’ve”

You get a text. “So what? It’s just rumors. You can get over it.” That ticked something in you.

“GET OVER IT? This is my reputation. It’s almost like social suicide if people think we’re together. We don’t mesh, like, at all.”

The next text was instant. “That’s not what it seems like for them. They seem to be eating this up two opposite girls, both popular in their own way, who hate each other but are secretly dating. This is like their bread and butter.”

You hate to admit it, but she was right. You do see more people cheering y’all on than hating it.

“Well, I’m going to tell them we’re not together.”

You thought that would be the last message, but then

“Or we could fake date.”

You raised an eyebrow at her proposition. “And why would I do that?”

“’Cause you like attention and good publicity. You’re having more of the ‘weird’ kids like you because of this, and you’re trying to run for student body, so this helps you.”

You take in her words. She’s right you could use this to your advantage. But what does she get out of it?

“What do you get out of it?”

“I get stuff out of it, but that’s not your business.”

“Whatever. What’s the rules for this?”

You’re nervous, hoping she doesn’t take it too far.

“We’re doing everything normal couples do, okay?”

And of course she does but whatever.

“I guess this is the start of our secret relationship.”

“Yeah. And there’s a party this weekend. I’ll pick you up so it looks more legit, and you gotta stay with me the whole time.”

You weren’t really pleased with this plan, but whatever at this point.

“Sure.”

You’re getting ready for the party doing your makeup, hair, choosing your outfit, which you land on a jean skirt, a cute short flannel top to match Ellie, and some Doc Martens.

You get a text from Ellie saying she pulled up, so you grab your things and head out.

Her pickup truck is parked right outside your house, along with the other cars your family owns hers stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Hello,” you say, getting in the car.

“…uh…hi. You look amazing.”

“Thanks… um, can we hit the road now?”

“We need to go over rules again.”

You glare at her, feeling like she’s just stalling.

“Fine. We don’t have to. Just don’t be surprised if I kiss you or get handsy randomly.”

When she said that, your stomach turned. You’re fidgeting in her car the first time you’ve ever been in here. It’s cozy and nice, although it still has the lingering smell of weed.

“Guess she never takes a break,” you mumbled under your breath.

“What did you say?” Ellie called out, catching you off guard.

“I was just saying you don’t let your car rest before you smoke another blunt.”

“Do… you wanna try, little miss perfect?”

You thought for a second. I mean, you never tried, but one time won’t hurt. Plus, it felt like she was challenging you with that “little miss perfect” comment.

“Sure.”

Ellie almost fucked up her parking job because of your answer. “Really… you don’t have to. I wasn’t pressuring you.”

“I know. I just wanna try it out.”

Ellie finally parks correctly outside the party. She takes out a blunt and lights it. You watch her every movement.

“I’ll hold it for you. Just inhale.”

You do what she tells you.

“Good job. Now blow it out.”

Her praising you fucked you up, and now you’re coughing all over the place.

“Oh fuck, are you okay?” She tries soothing your back, but that doesn’t stop the burning in your lungs.

“I’m fine, just give me a second.”

She lets you catch your breath before she starts laughing.

“What’s funny about this? I almost died.”

“I didn’t think you would suck that badly.”

“Oh, shut up.” You nudge her.

Ellie takes a hit of it and puts it out so y’all can head inside.

“We should get going. Wouldn’t want them to think we’re hiding away.”

You roll your eyes. You guys head into the party, and of course when y’all walk in, there are people staring but this is technically y’all’s hard launch.

You see Ellie say hi to her friends while you just follow her.

“This place is so loud,” you mumble under your breath.

You’ve been to parties before loved them, honestly but you weren’t feeling this one for some reason.

It was so loud, too many people. Your friends didn’t come to this party, and you have to spend it with Ellie it sucks.

A few drinks in, you subconsciously start to drift away from Ellie, trying to find a quiet place you can stash yourself, when you stumble upon this empty room. You head inside and close the door, laying on the bed.

It was quiet, relaxing, peaceful. Although you like attention, it can get overwhelming.

Suddenly, the door opens, so you rest on your elbows to see who it is.

“Hey… why are you up here by yourself? You had me stressed that something happened to you.”

You plop back down on the bed, seeing it was Ellie.

“I just needed to get away. Too many people.”

Ellie lays next to you.

“Wow, look at Miss Attention wanting quiet time.”

You laugh a little, lying on your side so you can see her.

“Well, you’re kinda fucking it up with your presence.”

“Am I now? Well, you haven’t yelled at me and told me to leave. Seems like you want me here.”

You stare at Ellie’s side profile, not saying anything.

Ellie looks at you then at your lips.

Before either of you can stop it, your bodies are moving toward each other lips touching, soft, gentle. Then it starts to get faster.

Ellie’s on top of you, kissing your lips till it bruises. Once she stops to get air, she’s breathing heavy and staring at you.

You get shy and cover your mouth, blushing heavily.

“We should probably go. It’s getting late.”

“…wait. I gotta make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

You feel your heart pumping as Ellie goes down on your neck, leaving hickeys. You cover your mouth, holding in your moans.

“Fuck… Ellie!”

“Sorry, babe. I just had to make sure they know.”

You cover up your face, muffling your words a little.

“I hate you.”

She kisses your hands covering your face.

Synopsis: Abby’s been part of your family for years, but you’ve never seen her as just a sister. One late night moment turns long held crushes into something more.

Content: fluff, kissing, almost getting caught, banter, cute, neck kisses.

A/n: I’m working on my series but threaded to you is giving me some headache than I thought sooo I’m making one shots till I finish it. (Was slightly proof read) PLS give me ideas on one shots to write

Words:1,015

Abby has been with your family for a few years now. After her father passed, your mom adopted her so she would have a place to stay. Everyone treats her like family your brother treats her as another sister, your parents see her as another daughter but you just couldn’t see her like that.

You’d had a crush on Abby even before she joined your family, when she was just your brother’s annoying best friend. Everything about her drew you in, but you knew she didn’t feel the same way about you.

You went downstairs, hearing everybody alive and awake.

“HeYYY, family!” you called.

Your mom looked up from the stove.

“Hey, sweetheart. Can you go wake up Abby? I’ll finish making breakfast.”

“Oh, uh… sure. Yeah, I can do that.”

You headed back upstairs to Abby’s room. You lightly knocked on the door. Nothing. So you peeked your head in. She was lying on her bed, eyes closed, headphones on, and Coco in her lap. (Coco is a golden retriever your mom got her after her father passed because she wasn’t really talking to anyone.)

You entered her room, walking over to her bed. Coco licked your fingers, moving slightly off Abby, causing her to open her eyes.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

Silence fell as you kept eye contact with her bright blue eyes, noticing the way the sun shine on her and letting your gaze trail down her figure.

“Why are you in here?”

“Oh, um… Mom told me to come get you ‘cause she made food or whatever. I’ll just see you down there.” You backed up all the way to the door and closed it.

Putting your head in your hands:

“O.M.G., THAT WAS EMBARRASSING.”

You walked downstairs. After a few minutes of cursing yourself out, Abby finally came down, sitting next to you at the dining table.

Chatter filled the room, your family talking, but you tuned it out, focusing on how yours and Abby’s knees were touching.

“Dove,” you heard Abby call out your family nickname but it sounded different when she said it.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want some of my fruit?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. I don’t mind.”

You turned slightly so you could grab some food off her plate.

Your mom looked over at you two.

“You guys look like sisters.”

You stopped in your tracks, stiffening. You decided to laugh it off, not wanting the silence to sit.

Later that night, you decided to go downstairs to get some ice cream when you heard someone coming down the stairs.

“Are you always up late?”

“This isn’t even late it’s 9:00.”

Abby laughed. The sound filled your ears, making your heart warm.

You closed the ice cream lid and put it back in the freezer, then went to sit on the kitchen counter.

“What are you doing up, Abby, since you’re saying it’s so late?”

“Uhh… I just couldn’t sleep. I wanted to bother your brother, but he’s surprisingly asleep.”

“Hmm…”

You saw Coco at her feet. “She always follows you. She only comes to me if you’re not around. It’s not fair.”

Abby walked over, standing next to you.

“Maybe just get like me. I don’t know what to tell you.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, maybe it is late. I’m going to head to bed. Goodnight, sis.”

Before you could move off the counter, Abby was in between your legs.

“You know you don’t see me like that, so don’t call me ‘sis,’ okay?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about. The way you stare at me isn’t very sisterly, Dove.”

You felt your stomach twist and turn as she played with your hair.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t… really.”

You shook your head, making eye contact with Abby, feeling like a kettle about to boil. The distance, the soft touches… before you knew it, you were leaning in.

The kiss was soft at first, gentle, like the sun beating down your face in May. Your hand moved to her face, hers to your waist. You broke the kiss but that wasn’t enough for Abby.

She moved to your neck, letting out light, soft moans.

“You’re being so cute for me, Dove.”

You tried to stifle your moans so no one would hear you.

“Is someone down there?”

You pushed Abby off lightly.

“It’s just me, Mom.”

“Oh, okay. You should head to sleep. Goodnight.”

You looked at Abby and saw a big smirk planted on her face.

The long game

Synopsis: Abby takes you to the hospital luckily your ok to go home but Abby takes you back to hers instead

Content: fluff, hospital, y/n use, half proof read, angst, dual pov

A/n: I did first person for Abby’s pov hope yall enjoy

ITags: @slutformangos @kamogrrl @hornyscissorsister @cupidletterss @mybodyismadeofcrushedstars @sillyme12356 @roseisadyke @megansstrap @mel6ncholixc @astenth @chrimson-ghost @infinitevortexfleet

You don’t remember much from last night, your brain’s foggy but even then you remember Abby’s touch, voice protectiveness.

When suddenly you wake up in the hospital lights are to bright.

Everything smells sterile. Clean. Wrong

Abby doesn’t leave your side once.

Not when the nurses take your vitals.

Not when they ask questions she doesn’t fully have answers to.

Not when they say words like “monitoring” and “dehydrated” and “you did the right thing bringing her in.”

It’s weird that she’s staying by your side after everything that happened I mean yall aren’t even close so why was she doing all of this.

She stands there with her arms crossed like she’s holding herself together by force.

When you finally wake up fully, your head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton.

Your mouth is dry your brain can’t even comprehend words to leave your mouth

Abby is sitting in the chair next to the bed, elbows on her knees, staring at the floor.

Her hair is messy. Her hoodie is gone. She looks… wrecked.

You shifted in the hospital bed uncomfortable as fuck

Her head snaps up so fast it’s almost violent.

For half a second she just stares at you.

Then she exhales.

“You’re awake….thank god, you look like shit tho.”

her voice cracks at the end.

The nurse comes in not long after. Explains gently that you were given fluids, that you’re stable and that you’ll be discharged tonight. You’re told to rest. To not be alone.

Abby doesn’t even hesitate.

“I’ll take her.”

You glance at her.

She doesn’t look back.

The drive to her house is quiet. Heavy quiet All of the questions stuck in your throat.

Streetlights pass over her face in slow flashes. You notice the tension still sitting in her jaw. Finally you’re able to muster some words out.

“You didn’t have to stay,” you say softly, throat dry.

She laughs once. Dry. Humorless.

“Yeah. I did.”

You don’t argue.

When she pulls into her driveway, you hesitate.

“Abby-”

“You’re not going home alone tonight, your parents can’t see you like this.” she says, already getting out of the car. “Don’t fight me on this.”

You’re too tired to.

Her house is darker than you expected. Calm. Quiet. Nothing like the chaos from earlier.

She kicks off her shoes and gestures toward the couch. “Sit.”

You do.

She disappears down the hallway and comes back with sweatpants and a hoodie.

“They’ll be big,” she says. “Deal with it.”

You almost smile, even while she’s taking care of of you she’s still upset

She turns away while you change, giving you privacy without making it awkward.

When you settle back onto the couch, she hands you a glass of water and sits across from you, elbows on her knees again.

For a minute, neither of you speak.

Then

“You scared me.”

It’s quiet. Honest. No attitude.

You look up.

She’s not looking at you. She’s staring at her hands.

“I walked into that room and you weren’t responding right,” she continues. “I thought…” She stops. Swallows. Tries again. “I thought I was too late.”

Your chest tightens.

“I’m sorry.”

Her head lifts immediately.

“No.” Her voice is firm now. Protective. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Silence again.

Then softer

“I should’ve tried harder that night in the car.”

You blink.

“You were right,” she admits. “I don’t get what it’s like for you. I thought I did. I don’t.”

The air shifts.

You’re seeing the true Abby.

“I don’t see you as a phase,” she says quietly. “I never did.”

Your breath catches.

She finally looks at you fully.

And suddenly, the fight from weeks ago doesn’t feel the same.

She stands and grabs a blanket, draping it over you. Her hand lingers at your shoulder for just a second too long.

“You’re taking my bed,” she says.

“What? No.”

“Y/N.”

You don’t argue.

When you’re tucked in, she turns off the main light, leaving only the lamp glowing soft gold.

She starts to walk out.

“Abby?”

She stops in the doorway.

“Stay?”

It’s barely above a whisper.

She doesn’t even hesitate this time.

She crosses the room, sits on the edge of the bed first like she’s testing the space then carefully lies down on top of the blanket, leaving space between you.

Not touching.

But close enough that you can feel the warmth.

After a minute, your hand drifts across the sheets.

She sees it.

Her fingers intertwine with yours.

Light. Steady.

“I’ve got you,” she murmurs into the dark.

And this time, it doesn’t feel like a promise made out of panic.

It feels permanent.

The sun is fighting you

Like personally offended that you’re trying to sleep.

You groan and turn your face into the pillow

Only for something warm and wet to drag across your cheek.

You jolt.

“Ew-what the…”

A slobbery tongue swipes across your nose.

You squint your eyes open.

Lion is standing over you like he pays rent here, tail wagging, absolutely thrilled that you’re alive.

“At least I know lion likes me at first meeting.”

He licks you again.

You try to sit up too fast.

Bad idea.

Your head throbs instantly.

“Okay. Noted. We move slower today.”

From somewhere down the hall you hear a pan clink. The low hum of a stove. The smell hits you then eggs, toast, something sweet.

Footsteps.

Abby appears in the doorway.

She’s wearing gray sweats and a black tank, hair pulled back, a little messy. There’s a dish towel thrown over her shoulder like she’s been doing this her whole life.

She stops when she sees you upright.

Relief flashes across her face before she smooths it out.

“Morning,” she says carefully. “How’s your head?”

“Like someone hosted a marching band in it.”

She huffs a small laugh. “Yeah. That tracks.”

Lion finally hops off the bed and trots toward her like he just completed his morning mission.

She scratches behind his ears automatically.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” she says, looking back at you.

“I am resting.”

“You’re sitting.”

“Semantics.”

She crosses the room and hands you a glass of water and two pills.

“Doctor said these would help.”

You hesitate for half a second.

nausea washing over you, your brain conflicted on if you can trust her.

Her expression softens.

“It’s just pain relief,” she says gently. “Promise.”

After a beat.

You take them.

The silence after isn’t awkward.

It’s… new.

You notice things now. The way her room looks lived in but not messy. The guitar leaning against the wall. The framed photo on her dresser turned slightly away like she doesn’t want people asking about it.

“You cook?” you ask.

She shrugs. “I can survive.”

“That smells more advanced than survival.”

She fights a smile.

There’s a pause.

Then she sits on the edge of the bed.

Closer than last night.

“You feeling dizzy?” she asks quietly.

“Not really. Just tired.”

She nods, studying your face like she’s memorizing it.

“You really scared me,” she says again. Softer than last night.

You look down at your hands. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.”

Another beat.

“Dina texted me,” she adds. “Like thirty times.”

You groan. “She’s never letting me live this down.”

“She was freaking out,” Abby says. “Ellie too.”

You swallow.

“I didn’t even know you’d be there.”

Her jaw tightens slightly.

“I wasn’t supposed to be.”

That makes you look up.

She exhales slowly. “Because I couldn’t sit at home thinking about what you said in the car, I needed a distraction.”

Oh.

The air shifts again.

Lion jumps back on the bed, settling between you like he’s buffering the tension.

“You still think I see you as a phase?” Abby asks quietly.

You don’t answer right away.

“I think,” you say carefully, “that I don’t know how to matter to someone like you without losing myself.”

She leans back slightly, processing.

“You matter,” she says finally. Not defensive. Not rushed. Just certain.

The sun catches the gold in her hair.

“You mattered before we even started fighting,” she adds.

Your chest feels tight in a completely different way now.

Not fear.

Something warmer.

“You made breakfast,” you say softly, almost like you’re trying to deflect how intense that just got.

She rolls her eyes lightly. “Yeah. Don’t make it weird.”

“It’s pancakes, isn’t it?”

“…maybe.”

You smile for real this time.

She notices.

And for the first time since the car argument, she smiles back without restraint.

“Come on,” she says, standing and offering her hand. “Eat before Lion steals it.”

You look at her hand.

Then at her.

You take it.

She doesn’t let go right away.

The kitchen is warm.

Not just temperature wise. It feels lived in. Quiet. Safe.

Sunlight spills across the counter in golden strips, catching the steam rising from a stack of pancakes on a plate way too neat to be accidental.

“You’re staring,” Abby says, flipping another pancake like she didn’t just hear her own heartbeat in the silence.

“I’m evaluating.”

“Of?”

“Whether this is a manipulation tactic.”

She snorts. “Yeah. I drug you with kindness.”

You freeze for half a second.

Her face drops instantly.

“Sorry,” she says quickly. “Bad wording.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur. “I know what you meant.”

There’s a beat of quiet understanding. Careful. Gentle.

She plates the last pancake and slides the stack toward you. “Eat.”

You sit at the small kitchen table while she grabs forks and syrup. Lion settles at Abby’s feet like a loyal guard.

You take the first bite.

And pause.

“Okay,” you say slowly. “Why is this actually good?”

Abby tries to hide the pride in her face and fails. “Because I can cook.”

“You made these from scratch?”

“Don’t insult me.”

You take another bite, slower this time.

She watches you.

Not in a weird way. Just… attentive.

“You don’t have to hover,” you say without looking up.

“I’m not hovering.”

“You’re literally leaning forward.”

She leans back immediately. “Better?”

You smile faintly. “Worse. Now you look offended.”

She relaxes a little at that.

For a minute, it’s just forks scraping plates and the soft hum of the fridge.

Then

“I meant what I said last night.”

You glance up.

She’s staring at her hands again.

Her jaw tightens slightly.

“I hang out with you because I like you.”

It’s not dramatic.

It’s not loud.

It’s simple.

And somehow that makes it hit harder.

Your stomach flips.

“You’re bad at timing,” you say softly.

She huffs a breath. “Yeah. I’ve gathered.”

You twirl your fork between your fingers.

“I don’t want to be something you try on and then outgrow,” you admit. “I don’t survive that kind of thing well.”

Abby’s eyes lift immediately.

“I don’t outgrow people,” she says. “I shut down when I’m scared.”

That one’s new.

You tilt your head slightly. “Scared of what?”

Her lips press into a thin line. She debates it.

“Of caring more than the other person.”

You set your fork down.

“I wouldn’t have said all that in the car,” you say quietly, “if I didn’t care.”

Her shoulders drop just a little.

Lion shifts, bumping Abby’s leg.

You glance down at him.

“He’s definitely judging us,” you mutter.

“He hates emotional conversations,” Abby replies. “Very anti-communication.”

You both laugh. Soft. Real.

The tension eases, but it doesn’t disappear. It transforms.

You reach for the syrup at the same time she does.

You both freeze.

She doesn’t pull away immediately.

Neither do you.

“Your hands are cold,” she murmurs.

“You made me get up.”

She almost smiles. Almost.

Then she gently wraps her fingers around yours.

“You’re staying today,” she says quietly. Not a question.

You look at her.

“You gonna keep feeding me?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

You squeeze her hand once before letting go.

“Okay,” you say.

You finished eating and offered to help Abby with the dishes, but she kept insisting you needed to rest. So now you’re sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, watching her from across the room.

Her back is turned to you.

Her shoulders are broad, arms flexing slightly as she washes the plates. The veins in her forearms are faintly visible, and you don’t even realize how long you’ve been staring until your thoughts start spiraling.

Is it even okay for you to be looking at her like this?

Are you just friends?

Or are you something more?

You slump down in the chair, with a quiet sigh.

“Are you okay?” Abby asks without turning around. “Do you want to go back to bed?”

“Oh! I’m fine,” you reply quickly. “Just thinking.”

She shuts off the water and glances over her shoulder.

“About what?”

She shifts, leaning back against the sink with her arms crossed. The position makes her look even better, and that does absolutely nothing to help your focus.

You swallow.

“Are we… friends now?” you ask shyly.

Abby lets out a soft laugh. “Yeah. We are.”

For some reason, that’s not the answer you wanted.

You pout slightly before you can stop yourself.

And you’re not even sure why it feels disappointing.

ABBY POV

I shouldn’t have laughed.

The second she asked, “Are we friends now?” I knew that question meant more than it sounded like.

But I panicked.

So I said the safest thing.

“Yeah. We are.”

She pouted.

Fuck.

I notice everything about her.

The way she stares when she thinks I’m not looking.

The way she overthinks every sentence before she says it.

The way her voice gets smaller when she’s scared to want something.

I don’t know when my feelings towards her change I met her four months ago and now she’s all that I think about.

But I don’t think she wants me.

I think she wants the closeness. The attention. The feeling of being chosen after everything that happened.

God that sounds shitty of me to say

Plus there’s no way she’s gay

So I decide right there in the kitchen, with soap still on my hands that I’m not going to push it.

If she wants friends, I can be friends.

Even if it feels like swallowing glass.

I turn back to the sink so she doesn’t see my face.

“Do you need anything?” I ask casually. Too casually.

“No,” she says quietly.

I dry my hands and grab a towel, walking past her chair.

Too close.

I don’t mean to brush my fingers against her shoulder, but I do.

She stills.

I keep walking like I didn’t notice.

Friends.

Right.

I grab her phone off the counter and toss it gently onto the table in front of her.

“You should text Dina. Let her know you’re alive.”

She rolls her eyes a little. “Bossy.”

I smirk. “You’re in my house.”

Couple behavior.

Stop it.

I move to the fridge, grab a bottle of water, and set it in front of her without asking.

She looks up at me like she’s about to say something.

I don’t let her.

“You’re still pale,” I mutter. “Drink it.”

She smiles softly.

It does something dangerous to my chest.

I lean against the counter again, arms crossed, pretending this is easy.

Pretending I didn’t stay up half the night making sure she was breathing evenly.

Pretending I didn’t almost say something in the hospital that I couldn’t take back.

She keeps looking at me.

And I don’t know how to stop myself from looking back.

Her eyes drop to my arms for half a second.

I notice.

Of course I do.

But I tell myself it doesn’t mean anything.

“Rest today,” I say, voice back to neutral. “We’re just taking it easy.”

We.

I say it like it’s automatic.

Like she belongs here.

belongs with me.

I turn away before she can read my face.

Because if she ever figured out how much I want more than that.

And she didn’t feel the same.

I don’t think I’d recover.

So I’ll keep it simple.

I’ll keep my hands to myself.

I’ll ignore the way she looks at me.

And I’ll be whatever she needs me to be.

Even if it’s just a friend.

Soon we’re back in my room

I tell her we’re watching something “low effort.”

Translation: I need background noise so I don’t overthink the fact that she’s in my room.

Again.

She sits on my bed like she belongs there. Tucks her legs under herself. Adjusts the pillow behind her back.

I stay on top of the blanket.

Space.

That’s important.

Lion jumps up immediately and curls near her feet like he’s chosen sides.

Traitor.

I grab the remote and put on the first random movie I see. I don’t even register what it is. Something with explosions. Something loud enough to fill the silence.

She shifts closer to see the screen better.

Our shoulders brush.

It is the smallest contact.

It feels catastrophic.

I pretend I didn’t notice.

My arm is resting behind her, technically on the mattress.

Not around her.

Just… there.

She smells like my hoodie.

That’s not helping.

The movie starts, dialogue spilling into the room, but I don’t process a single word.

All I’m aware of is how warm she is.

How close.

How every time she laughs at something on screen, her knee nudges mine.

She doesn’t move it away.

I do.

Barely.

She notices.

“Am I crowding you?” she asks softly.

No.

You’re undoing me.

I shrug. “You’re fine.”

She relaxes again, leaning back into the pillow.

Five minutes later, she yawns.

My brain short-circuits.

She tilts her head slightly and it rests against my shoulder.

Not fully.

Just enough.

I freeze.

Every muscle in my body goes still.

If I move, she’ll pull away.

If I don’t move, I might actually combust.

Her hair brushes my neck.

Her breathing slows.

She’s not asleep. I can tell.

She’s just… comfortable.

With me.

And that’s the part that messes me up.

Because if she were into me like actually into me wouldn’t this feel different?

Wouldn’t she be nervous too?

She seems calm.

I feel like I’m holding back a tidal wave.

My arm, the one behind her, starts to ache.

I could move it.

I don’t.

Instead, without thinking, my fingers curl slightly.

They hover near her shoulder.

Don’t touch.

Don’t touch.

I touch.

Lightly.

Just the tips of my fingers

Her breathing starts to even out.

Slow. Steady.

I glance down carefully.

Her eyes are closed.

A small crease between her brows like she’s still fighting whatever dream she fell into.

The movie keeps playing, light flickering across the room. I should move. I should turn it off. I should create distance.

Instead, I let my head rest gently against hers.

Just for a second.

Just to see what it feels like.

It feels… right.

Too right.

Her warmth seeps into me.

Her breathing steadies mine.

The tension I’ve been holding all morning slowly drains out of my shoulders.

I don’t even realize my eyes are closing.

The last thing I register is the weight of her against me.

Trusting.

Safe.

And for once, I let myself believe maybe this isn’t one-sided.

Then I fall asleep too.

—-Threaded to You~*

Synopsis: you get to earth, after a few days of being there you meet your soulmate Ellie and you don’t know how to handle it

Content:fluff, alcohol, fantasy, lore, Soul threads/glowing bond, love at first sight, teasing, nicknames

A/N: ask to be in taglist

Word count: 3.8k

Before Earth learned how to name the stars, before humans decided love was something you had to earn or lose or recover from, there was the Luminous Halo Archive Society.

Most angels just called it the Archive.

It didn’t exist in one place not really. It hovered between worlds, layered over realities like a breath held too long. A city made of light and memory and corridors that rearranged themselves depending on who walked them. Floors of glass that reflected not faces, but souls. Ceilings that glowed with constellations belonging to universes most beings would never visit.

This was where everything was recorded.

Every life.

Every death.

Every bond.

Angels moved through the halls in quiet streams wings folded, halos dimmed, minds busy. Some wore the silver insignia of Guardians, others the black-gold mark of Death, crimson for War, soft rose for Cupid-class, deep blue for Dreamwardens, and countless others whose roles didn’t translate cleanly into any single language.

The Archive didn’t rank angels by power.

It ranked them by responsibility.

And you had carried more than most.

“OMGGGGG Lila I got called to the Soul Registry Chamber this is my time I can finally find my soulmate.” You say jumping up and down your wings carrying you up “you’re too excited to see your mysterious lover.”

“Of course I mean I’ve been waiting for years I mean that’s all the ancient angels talked about are you not excited to meet yours.” Lila went quiet “I don’t really care to be honest but I am a little excited.”

You smiled at her “ok I got to go I can’t keep them waiting.” You leave Lila side heading towards the big wooden doors adorned with story’s etched into them

The Soul Registry Chamber was one of the Archive’s oldest spaces. Threads of light stretched from floor to ceiling, each one humming softly, each one connecting two souls across time, space, and sometimes entire universes. Some threads were bright and tight, newly formed. Others were faint, stretched thin across lifetimes.

One thread glowed when you entered.

Gold-white. Steady. Familiar.

“Your service record is complete,” the Archivist said, voice echoing like it came from everywhere and nowhere at once. “You have fulfilled your guardianships. Your dream wards remain intact. No violations. No imbalance.”

You tried not to look too eager.

Key word Tried.

“As such,” the Archivist continued, “you are eligible to seek your soulmate.”

You felt the excitement radiating through your body. you had already pictured him. Some soft-spoken, gentle man. Warm smile. Steady hands. Someone safe. Someone who would look at her like she was more than light and duty.

“You’ll be sent to earth as for that’s where your soulmate resides.”

Earth.

Messy. Loud. Emotional. Beautiful.

You stepped closer, watching the thread dip downward through layers of reality, threading itself into one small, spinning blue planet.

You smiled.

You had no idea.

That all these expectations will be shut down immediately.

You expected it to be smooth sailing but instead you were just dropped in to the noisy, lively and absolutely chaotic place of Boston

cars rushing past, voices overlapping, music thumping from somewhere you couldn’t see. Air filled your lungs too fast, sharp and unfamiliar, heavy with smoke, rain, and something fried. You stumbled forward, boots hitting pavement harder than anticipated.

You’ve been on earth for a week the Seraphim supplied you with a house and taught you everything about earth.

You haven’t looked for you soulmate a small part of you is scared I mean what if you’re let down. You sit up snaking your hands against your face “that’s no way to think I’ve got to be brave.”

You ventured out to this small local bar that you’re weirdly drawn too

The door shuts behind you, muting the street and swallowing you in warmth and noise.

Music hums low through the walls. Glasses clink. Someone laughs too loud near the back. You stand there for half a second too long, overwhelmed by the sheer aliveness of it all.

Then the thread pulls.

Not gently.

Sharp. Direct. Certain.

Your gaze lifts.

And the world…

tilts.

She’s behind the bar.

Leaning one forearm against the counter like she owns the place. Sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal ink curling along her skin. Fingers wrapped around a glass she’s drying with lazy efficiency. Hair slightly messy, like she either doesn’t care or knows she doesn’t have to.

She says something to a customer smirks.

It’s not soft. It’s not shy.

It’s devastating.

The thread inside your chest ignites.

Not fireworks.

Recognition.

Ancient. Immediate. Terrifyingly right.

Your breath stutters. Your heartbeat goes uneven, loud and human and out of your control. Your powers flicker instinctively just for a second the lights above you dimming before correcting themselves.

She laughs again.

You feel it like it belongs to you.

This is not the gentle, steady man you imagined.

This is sharp edges and guarded eyes and confidence worn like armor.

This is-

Her.

As if sensing something, she looks up.

And for one suspended second, her eyes meet yours.

The thread goes taut.

Your entire existence narrows to that eye contact.

She doesn’t look awed.

She doesn’t look overwhelmed.

She just studies you, head tilting slightly.

Then-

A slow, crooked smile.

Like she’s already decided you’re interesting.

“Hey,” she calls over the music. “You look a little lost.”

You forget every speech you practiced in the Archive.

You forget how long you’ve lived.

You forget that you’re supposed to be composed, celestial, prepared.

Because your soulmate

is looking at you like this is just another night.

And you’ve never been more unprepared in your life.

You weren’t built for this.

Not the noise. Not the heat. Not the way her eyes held yours like she was trying to figure you out instead of the other way around.

The thread in your chest pulled tighter.

Too tight.

She started walking toward you slow, confident, wiping her hands on a towel like she had all the time in the world.

You felt it before she even reached you.

The bond reacting.

Your pulse misfiring.

Power flickering under your skin like unstable light.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to feel.

Soulmates were supposed to be calming. Steady. Certain.

This felt like falling from orbit.

“Hey,” she said when she got close enough that you could see the faint scar through her eyebrow. “You okay?”

Too close.

Her voice wasn’t divine harmony. It was rough. Real. Human.

And it did something to you that centuries of celestial existence never had.

You stepped back.

Your shoulder hit the door.

The music thumped louder. The air felt thinner.

“I-” Your throat tightened. Why was your throat tightening? Angels didn’t malfunction like this. “I need-”

Space.

Distance.

Heaven.

You turned before she could say anything else.

The door burst open under your hand, cool night air slamming into you as you stumbled back onto the sidewalk. Sound dulled. The thread didn’t.

It followed you.

You pressed a hand to your chest like you could physically hold it down.

What was wrong with you?

You had faced wars. You had stood at the edge of dying stars. You had held collapsing souls together with nothing but willpower.

And one bartender with tired green eyes just unraveled you in under thirty seconds.

The door creaked behind you.

You didn’t turn around.

You couldn’t.

Because if you looked at her again

You weren’t sure you’d ever be able to leave.

And angels weren’t supposed to run.

But you did.

It’s been a week.

Seven human days since you stepped into that bar.

Since you saw her.

Since the thread inside your chest snapped tight and refused to loosen.

You haven’t gone back.

You tell yourself it was strategic. Responsible. Measured.

In truth, you ran.

Now you pace the length of your apartment small, quiet, painfully mortal. The floor creaks under your steps. The walls don’t shimmer like the Archive’s. There are no constellations overhead. Just a ceiling with a faint crack running through it.

You drag a hand down your face.

This body feels wrong without her nearby.

That’s the part no one warned you about.

The bond isn’t poetic from a distance. It doesn’t patiently wait for timing to feel right. It hums. It pulls. It aches. Low and constant, like a bruise pressed too often.

You tried distracting yourself.

Walked the city. Learned the streets. Watched humans move through their small, complicated lives.

But every bar you pass smells faintly like citrus and smoke.

Every laugh that carries too loud makes your head turn.

Every night, when you close your eyes, the memory replays.

The scar in her eyebrow.

The way her smile curved like she knew something you didn’t.

The way she looked at you not in awe, not in recognition.

Just interest.

Your stomach twists.

Because what if she’s already forgotten you?

To her, you were just another nervous girl who walked in and walked right back out.

To you

She is written into your soul.

You stop pacing and press your palm flat against your chest, right where the thread lives beneath skin and bone.

It pulses.

Not violently like that first night.

Just steady.

Waiting.

You whisper it before you can stop yourself.

“I shouldn’t go back.”

Your body betrays you immediately.

Your feet angle toward the door.

Your pulse quickens.

The thread warms, almost hopeful.

You exhale sharply.

You’ve guarded empires.

You’ve stood unmoved in the face of chaos.

You’ve outlasted stars.

And yet a bartender in a dimly lit bar has you debating your own restraint like this.

You close your eyes.

If you go back, it changes everything.

If you don’t…

You already know you won’t survive the distance.

The thread tightens again.

Not forcing.

Just reminding.

And for the first time in your long existence, you realize something terrifyingly human:

You don’t want to be responsible.

You want to be reckless.

Your hand rests on the doorknob.

You haven’t decided yet.

But you’re already halfway gone.

Here you are, standing outside the bar doors again.

It doesn’t look as packed tonight. The music is lower, conversations softer, the lights dim but not overwhelming. It helps. A little.

You flex your fingers at your sides, grounding yourself in the weight of your borrowed body.

“Come on,” you mutter under your breath. “It’s just a girl.”

The thread in your chest pulses like it disagrees.

You push the door open.

The bell above it rings, soft but sharp enough to announce you.

Warm air brushes your face. Citrus. Alcohol. Wood polish. Familiar now.

Your eyes lift.

And there she is.

Behind the bar again. Sleeves rolled. Leaning slightly forward as she laughs at something a customer says. She looks different tonight hair tied back loosely, jaw shadowed in the low light, eyes a little tired but still sharp.

You feel it immediately.

The thread doesn’t snap this time.

It settles.

Like it’s been waiting.

Her gaze shifts lazily toward the door, probably just reacting to the bell.

It lands on you.

And holds.

There’s recognition there.

Not celestial recognition. Not soul deep knowing.

Just

Oh. It’s you.

Her eyebrow lifts slightly, the corner of her mouth tugging up like she’s trying not to smile too much.

“Well,” she calls, voice carrying easily over the low music, “look who decided not to sprint out this time.”

Heat climbs your neck. Ridiculous. This-this-is what makes you nervous.

You walk forward. Measured. Trying not to look like every step feels monumental.

“I didn’t sprint,” you reply, aiming for dignity.

She huffs a quiet laugh. “You absolutely did.”

You reach the bar.

Closer now.

Too close and not close enough.

Up this near, you can see the faint freckles across her nose. The tiny scar by her lip. The way her fingers tap absently against the counter like she’s always holding onto extra energy.

Her eyes flick over you not predatory, not detached.

Interested.

“So,” she says, grabbing a glass. “You gonna actually order something tonight, or are we doing the dramatic entrance thing again?”

The thread warms.

Not frantic.

Not overwhelming.

Just steady.

And for the first time since you landed on Earth, you don’t feel like running.

You feel like staying.

You rest your hands carefully on the edge of the bar, like it might collapse under the weight of your nerves.

Ellie tilts her head. Waiting.

You realize you have absolutely no idea what humans drink.

You panic.

“I would like,” you start, far too formal, “one alcohol.”

Silence.

Ellie blinks.

“…One alcohol?” she repeats, fighting a smile.

You straighten. “Yes.”

Her mouth twitches. “That narrows it down to… the entire building.”

You glance at the shelves behind her glass bottles in every shape imaginable. Colors you don’t have names for. Labels you’ve never read.

“I don’t require much,” you say quickly. “Just something that is… socially acceptable.”

Ellie actually laughs this time. It’s softer than before. Not for the room just for you.

“Alright, Angel,” she says, grabbing a bottle. “We’ll start easy.”

Your heart stutters.

Angel.

You’re almost positive she means it as a joke.

You almost drop to your knees anyway.

She pours amber liquid into a glass, adds ice with a clink. Slides it toward you.

Her fingers brush yours for half a second.

And the world tilts.

The thread doesn’t just warm this time it flares.

A pulse of light shoots straight through your chest, sharp and electric. Your breath catches. The overhead lights flicker faintly.

Ellie pauses.

Her brow furrows.

“Did you feel that?” she asks quietly.

You pull your hand back too fast. “Feel what?”

She studies you. Really studies you.

“Static,” she mutters. “Like when you touch someone after walking on carpet.”

Your pulse is everywhere. You grip the edge of the bar to steady yourself.

“That is… normal,” you manage.

Ellie hums, unconvinced.

She leans forward slightly, forearms resting on the counter, closing the space between you. Her voice lowers.

“So you gonna tell me your name this time,” she asks, “or do I just keep calling you Angel?”

Your stomach flips.

You swallow. Say your name.

She repeats it slowly, testing it like it’s something she might want to keep.

“Pretty,” she says. Not teasing. Not loud. Just honest.

The thread settles into a steady glow again, like it approves.

You take a cautious sip of the drink.

Your face immediately reacts.

Ellie grins. “Oh, wow. Yeah, that’s your first time.”

“It is aggressive,” you cough.

She laughs again, shaking her head. “You are not from around here, are you?”

Not even close.

But instead of panicking this time, you hold her gaze.

“No,” you admit. “I’m not.”

Something shifts in her expression.

Interest deepens. Guard lowers just slightly.

“Well,” she says, softer now, “welcome.”

And this time, when your fingers brush again as she adjusts the glass

You don’t pull away.

Next>>>

Taglist: @theeprettiestlittleliar @elliewilliamskisser200 @lovergirlfinalboss @wasted9rain @liasxeatt

—-Threaded to You~

Mood board

(Human) Ellie Williams x (angel) reader

Chapters: P1 P2

Reader

She was told soulmates were gentle things threads of light, perfect timing, easy recognition. No one mentioned bars that smelled like citrus cleaner and cheap whiskey, or crooked smiles that treated love like a bad habit already kicked. The Luminous Halo Archive Society trusted fate. She did too. At least… until Earth.

Ellie William

Ellie Williams didn’t believe in destiny. Didn’t believe in forever. Didn’t believe in angels especially not the kind who watched you sleep, guarded your dreams, and showed up one night asking what she should order to drink. She was never supposed to meet her soulmate like this. Not as a human. Not without her wings. Not without consequences. But some threads don’t care about rules. Some loves rewrite the Archive.

Synopsis

Before humans learned how to name the stars, there was the Luminous Halo Archive Society a place between worlds where every life, death, and soul-bond was recorded. Angels didn’t rise by power here. They rose by responsibility. And you had carried more than most. So when your name was called to the Soul Registry Chamber, your wings lifted before your feet did. “My soulmate,” you said breathlessly. “It’s finally time.” Lila only smiled, quiet and unreadable. You didn’t notice how the Archive seemed to hold its breath as you passed through the towering doors or how fate was already rewriting itself. Because somewhere on Earth, your soulmate was waiting. And she was nothing like you imagined.