You’re sprawled across Ellie’s bed, scrolling through your phone, already dressed and ready for the night. Her room smells faintly of mint shampoo and worn leather, familiar and unmistakably hers. Posters line the walls, her guitar resting against the corner, and the closet doors are wide open—evidence of the chaos unfolding in front of the mirror.

Ellie steps out again, barefoot, in another outfit she’s trying to test on you like you're her personal stylist.

“Okay,” she says, hands on her hips, brows raised. “Be honest. Too much?”

She’s wearing a black crop top that clings to her torso, showing off her defined arms and broad shoulders—sculpted from years of survival and training—and a short skirt that makes her already long legs look even longer. Her body isn’t just athletic—it’s powerful, tall and toned, her abs faintly visible under the low light, the kind of physique that could knock someone out cold and still look hot doing it.

You sit up slightly, eyes widening.

“Damn,” you mutter. “You’re gonna get us kicked out just by walking in.”

She smirks, turning to check herself in the mirror, twisting to see her back.

“So that’s a yes?”

“That’s a hell yes.” You lean back, grinning. “You look like a goddess about to ruin lives.”

Ellie laughs, tossing a hair tie at your chest. “Shut up, idiot.” But her cheeks are a little pink. She’s trying to play it cool, but you’ve known her long enough to catch the tiny cracks in her armor. She likes hearing it. Especially from you.

She pulls her hair up, looking back at you through the mirror.

“You sure it's not too much?” she asks, a little more serious this time. “Like... I don’t wanna look like I’m trying too hard.”

You sit up fully now, your voice softer. “El, you could wear a trash bag and still own the room. But this?” You gesture at her. “This is next-level. You look… insane.”

She snorts, shaking her head. “You’re so dramatic.”

“You asked.”

She grins, then turns back to her closet.

“Okay, one more option, just in case.”

You watch her disappear behind the door again, your heart beating a little faster than before. You’ve seen Ellie in every state imaginable—bruised, laughing, furious, asleep next to a campfire—but this? This version of her, powerful and radiant and still just Ellie, asking you what she should wear… yeah. This is new.

And part of you hopes she never finds that last option.