“I’m Not Sleeping Over Prank”

“I’m not sleeping over prank”

Ellie Williams x fem reader (established relationship)

AN: my first proper fic let me know if you guys like it :)

Friday night.

Otherwise known as: the weekly ritual where you and Ellie pretend to hate each other while sharing garlic knots and aggressively cuddling like codependent raccoons.

She was currently starfished across her bed, one sock on, flipping through your sketchbook like she had an arts degree instead of mild commitment issues.

She paused on a page. “You gave this frog a six-pack?”

You didn’t even look up. “He goes to the gym.”

Ellie blinked at it. “Okay, but like. Why is he hot.”

“Don’t sexualize the frog.”

“I’m not trying to. He’s just… objectively shredded.”

You rolled your eyes. “I fear you.”

She tossed the sketchbook onto your lap like it was cursed. “Anyway. What movie are we watching tonight? I want trauma.”

You shrugged. “Actually… I think I’m heading home tonight.”

Silence.

Not dramatic silence. Not slow build.

Immediate, soul-leaving-the-body silence.

Ellie sat up. “Wait. What.”

“I’m just gonna sleep in my bed tonight.”

More silence.

“…Why.”

You pretended to check your phone. “Dunno. Just feel like it.”

She blinked at you. “Are you breaking up with me.”

“Oh my god.”

“No, be honest. Is this, like, a soft-launch breakup??”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing. “I just want a solo night. Do a face mask. Read. Maybe trauma dump into my Notes app.”

Ellie looked personally attacked. “You can trauma dump here. That’s what I’m for. That’s literally half my personality.”

You shrugged. “I want to romanticize loneliness for a sec.”

She squinted. “Is this about the mac and cheese?”

“…What mac and cheese.”

She avoided eye contact. “Nothing.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Ellie.”

“I may have microwaved the foil one. It sparked. I panicked and threw it in the sink.”

“You tried to drown it?”

“It felt right in the moment.”

You stared. “You owe me five packs of Mac and cheese and a new microwave.”

She scoffed. “This is deflection. You’re leaving me.”

You sighed dramatically. “I’m not—”

“No, you don’t get to gaslight me. It’s Friday. You sleep over on Fridays. It’s the law. You signed a girlfriend contract and everything.”

You were full-on grinning now. “There was no contract.”

“There was. It was verbal. And sealed with garlic knots and kisses.”

You finally let yourself laugh.

Ellie’s eyes narrowed. “Wait.”

You said nothing. Just smiled harder.

“Oh my god,” she groaned, flopping back onto the bed like you’d shot her. “You’re messing with me.”

“I was curious to see how unwell you’d get.”

“I spiraled,” she said, voice muffled into her hoodie. “I had a whole monologue ready. It was gonna be Oscar-worthy. I was about to sit dramatically on the floor and look out the window like a Victorian child.”

You leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You’re so dramatic for someone who acts like she doesn’t care about anything.”

“Shut up,” she muttered, but she turned her face toward yours like she wanted another kiss.

You gave her one. Just to be nice.

And also because you were wildly in love with her. But whatever. Not the point.

Ellie sighed. “You know this means war.”

You smiled against her skin. “Do your worst.”

“Oh, I will,” she said. “You’ll wake up one day and all your playlists will be replaced with Joe Rogan podcasts.”

You gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I’m petty and I have access to your Spotify.”

You pushed her off the bed. She dragged you down with her.

You both lay there, limbs tangled, absolutely not moving to go watch a movie.

“Can we still get pizza?” she asked, voice soft now.