ellieismybbg

[ellieismybbg]

this is very important, btw.

[ellieismybbg]

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎ ︎ ︎if i wasn't so american ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎| ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎part one

[ ︎this is the intro to a series of truck driver ellie x serial killer femme fics . . . . Full credit to this tweet for the idea. photos are solely for aesthetic purposes not meant to mimic readers intended race or body. ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ butch ellie x femme reader, misogyny mentions, murder obviously, assault/sa; not in depth, but mentioned. smut (r!recieving). long reader storyline. not native in english, semi edited, but ignore grammar/punctuation mistakes. title of the fic is from this song . word count : 6.2k ]

︎ March 1st, 2000

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ You remember the first time you actually went through with a kill like it was yesterday. He was dirty, borderline revolting when you first met him. Ending up at a truck stop after a day of hitchhiking your way through town, you couldn't help but notice him. I mean, how could you not with how obnoxious he was. Standing outside his truck loudly cat calling nearly every girl he laid his eyes on, it was impossible for you to miss him.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎You had a lingering hatred for the type of men that spoke to women as anything other than respectable, it burned a different type of hatred into your heart. You couldn't reason with them. Nothing in your mind allowed you to sympathize with such creatures. And now, as you walk into the truck stop for a drink, peeking through the clear windows as the occasional woman walks up and does everything in their power to avoid the pig practically loitering outside — your resolution is final. If the lord won't take these men out of this world to benefit women, it must mean he's waiting for you to take matters into your own hands. And boy were you anticipating the day you came across such an easy target like this one.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ "Hey misterrr" you dragged out as you leaned up against the truck beside his, drink in hand and a lightly packed bag hanging off your shoulder; containing nothing but a few outfits, a camera, a kitchen knife, spare change and a gun you swiped from your fathers closet back home. "well hey there sweet thing" he replied, looking you up and down, his eyes making sure to stare down just a bit longer than up — dirty pervert you thought. "so what brings you over here? called out to ya earlier but you walked right past me". he questioned, somewhat slurred as he placed a cigarette in his mouth. "oh nothin.. must've not heard you the first time. just wanted to see where you might be headed" you answered, putting on your best fake smile before takint a sip of your drink. "now why's that huh? y'lookin for a ride huh?" he responded letting out a puff of smoke. "maybeee .. or maybe i'm lookin to come visit you sometime". Your words were as convincing as they could be in this situation. It also helped that he was a desperate loser who'd believe anything if said by a sweet young woman. "oh really?" he chuckled. "really" you responded, widening your eyes and leaning up off the truck. "soo... why don't you write down your name and where ur heading so i'll remember who to ask for when i come knocking" you reached into your bag as you spoke, pulling out a nearly empty pen and an old notebook before handing it to him. Immediately he complied, thinking he got lucky he didn't hesitate to give you his location, even throwing in a time recommendation for you. Handing you back the notebook, you smiled at the words in rusty hand writing. Randy was his name. such a shame poor old randy had no clue what was coming his way you thought to yourself once again as you placed the notebook back in your bag, barely zipping it up before he attempted to pull you closer to him. "so tell me.. what youlookin to do then baby?" his words almost faded into a whisper as he leaned down to smell your hair, his body odor slapping you in the face before you pulled away subtly and started to walk backwards. "don't you worry about that now.. i like to suprise my dates" you replied before turning around fully to walk off — cringing at your own words as you made your way towards the sidewalk.

︎ ︎ As you made your way down the street — you came to a stop once the sidewalk started to fade into gravel. you threw your bag down at your feet and stretched out your arm. hitchhiking was nothing new to you, you had been on the road for months catching rides from strangers and debating with the voices in your head. You had a few other victims in mind before randy. Some you met at other stops, some that picked you up on the way. But there was always something in the way: too many people around, a wife and kids waiting for them at home, your conscious telling you it was wrong. for a while now, it took long sleepless nights of thinking, for you to actually develop the overwhelming urge to kill without remorse. There was nothing left for you back at home, and you had spent your entire life surrounded by males who did nothing but make being a woman seem like living hell. What good did men like Randy bring to the world? and what loss would it be without them? could taking your anger out on them really be that bad? you knew the answer to that. it was obvious. there was no space in this world for such things, and you were desperate to make sure no other woman would suffer at the hands of them. it wasn't an impulse, it was a buildup that took months of debating before you came to terms with what you needed to do.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ It didn't take long for someone to stop at the sign of your hand waving at on coming cars. a nice couple this time; perhaps in their 30s it seemed. luckily for you they were headed in the perfect direction, not asking too many questions about why you're headed so far up alone — the drive going by slowly in result. but you were grateful, it gave you more than enough time to draw out a plan in your head. After about an hour and a half they dropped you off at a diner not too far from where you were supposed to meet Randy — some rundown trailer park you could barely pin point on the map. Lord did he make it too easy. You didn’t go there right away. Instead, you sat in the booth of the diner for a while, until sundown to be exact. there was nothing on your mind besides carrying out what you had in mind. Randy would be the first hit to a long list of others.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ When the sun set and customers started to clear out, you began your trip to the promised meeting location. The walk to his trailer felt short. The directions were easy and there really weren't many people around. The park was quiet, it was hard to tell which trucks were abandoned and which had others living in them. Randy's trailer was the last one in the row, almost perfectly hidden behind all the others. You didnt take long to approach, the feeling of actually being close to someone you had planned to kill made your adrenaline rush in ways it hasn't before, there was nothing holding you back. Randy opened the door the second he heard your first knock, shirtless, he held a half-drunk bottle of whiskey in one hand. "Well i’ll be damned. ya actually showed up huh” he slurred with a grin, stepping aside and waving you in. you smiled sweetly and walked inside without wasting time on verbal exchange. Immediately upon entry, you were hit with the smell of sweat, cigarettes and alcohol. Your eyes gazed around the room, spotting porn magazines on the table and a lonesome cat in the corner.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ “You drinkin’ anything?” he asked, walking toward the counter, not bothering to ask what you liked — just pouring some of his half drank bottle into a terribly washed cup for you when you agreed to having a drink. you didn't actually drink it of course, it barely touched your lips as you thanked him and pretended to take a sip. “Didn’t expect someone like you to actually show,” he broke the silence, settling onto the couch, “But I ain’t complainin’ you're a sweet one" he added, a nasty smirk on his face as he continued to drink directly from the bottle. You didn't sit nor did he offer you a seat, you just stood there, leaned against the wall, fiddling with the dirty undranken glass before responding. "well.. i always try to keep my promises" you said. "mm well i sure am glad. you not like them other bitches huh darlin'?" he replied slowly, fixing himself off the couch to come over to you. The word he uses sent a rush of anger through your veins. He touched you on your arm, then slid his hand down to rub your ass. though uncomfortable, you kept your composure and let him, not wanting to fuck this up. "Randy.." you spoke just above a whisper — he didn't pull away, only responding with a grunt. "Randy.. i have a question" you continued, this time he only pulled back a little, keeping a firm grip on your waist. "hm? what is it.... ah u wanna get more comfortable that's it honey?" he questioned with the same smirk on his face as earlier. you chuckled in response, turning to reach into your bag slowly as you responded. "no... not necessarily i- just wanted to give you something i got on the road". you unzipped the bag, "oh yes? well lemme see my gift then sweetheart" he replied — and you pulled it out. a small hand gun, loaded of course, immediately causing him to step back and put his hands up. His face twisted into something between shock and amusement. “woah there now, what's this about" he asked, and for the first time since meeting him your words wouldn't come out — there was nothing in your mind besides the sound of your own heart rushing. it was beating throughout your ears, you couldn't respond, you just stood there for a moment, gun in hand and pointed directly at him.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ "I dunno what you think you're doin but liste-" you raised the gun towards his left side, and Randy's words were cut off with a single shot. You didn’t give him time to beg or even understand the gravity of your actions, your desire to kill was entirely too high for you to let him try and talk you out of it, or attempt to gain some sympathy out of you. You stood over him after it was done, he hit the floor harder than ever and you watched as he bled out — the cat that had been seated in the corner, scrambled to his side meowing. that was probably the only part you felt bad about, the poor and neglected cat. Once you made sure he was fully gone, kicking at his side to try and wake him, kneeling down to check his pulse — you didn't bother to clean up. It was useless when his body would most likely be there for days you thought. reaching over your shoulder and placing the gun back in your bag, you reached in at the same time and pulled out your camera — snapping a quick picture of the lifeless man before standing up. before leaving randy's trailer: you swiped his pockets and quickly rummaged through his belongings to find any leftover cash or cigarettes. once you gathered what could fit into your bag, you were headed out — but just as you were about to close the door behind you, you turned around, walking back towards Randy's body and picking up the cat that had now laid down next to him. you were a murderer yes, but the thrill of just having killed someone didn't erase your morals, you couldn't let that cat starve to death alone in there just cause you hated its owner. It was an innocent thing. and so once in hand, you left Randy there alone, the trailer park still as quiet and empty as it had been when you came — nobody around to have possibly seen you, and nobody home in their trailers who seemed to care about the loud bang that rang out earlier. lord, was it ever so easy. ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ Randy was obviously the first. You were inexperienced and had never killed before him. But once it was done, you felt nothing but satisfaction with yourself. You physically couldn't feel bad for what you had done no matter how hard you tried. After that night, you had settled down at a hotel just a town over from where you committed the act. The only thing that halted your travels for about four weeks was the brief worry that if you act again too soon you may get caught. But there was no remorse about the actual actions at hand, and that's why immediately after a month was up, and your worrying feeling went away, you were ecstatic to get back to work. You couldn't say Randy was the last; of course he wasn't. If anything, Randy opened the door to many other men like him falling victim to your sweet manipulation. you learned from him, he showed you just how easy it is to talk to the ones like him, and how much easier it was to get valuable information out of them by offering.. Well, nothing specifically. you never actually offered sex or anything to these men. But just the hopes of a girl showing up and giving them something was more than enough for them to compromise their safety unknowingly — and you thanked the gods above for making it this simple. Over the course of five months, you had killed ten other men like Randy over the course of five months — the entitled ones who thought women owed them something, the dirty ones who spoke boldly to women with no interest in them, and especially the ones with no one waiting at home for them. It wasn't as hard to cover up your true intentions when speaking to others, nor was it ever hard to find a ride towards your next victim. People were too trusting of sweet looking young girls like yourself, but you were ever so grateful for it. only ever made your job easier.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎

September 12th, 2000

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ You've been sitting on the curb outside a laundromat stop in Arizona for about an hour and 30 now. it's 7:30pm on a Sunday, you're waiting for your clothes to dry after washing them. It's been 2 months since your last kill, and seven months since randy. It was fall now and the weather was getting colder, which only meant even less people roaming the streets. Even less chances of possible witnesses. Despite that, your overwhelming urge to kill quickly had worn off. with only one slip up over the last few months — an accidental run in with a local cop after a kill, who, lucky for you, 100% believed your excuse of it being “that time of the month” when he asked about the small dried blood stain on your clothing. You didn't really find it necessary to kill so fast. With no one on your ass, you could take your time and enjoy experiencing each state while killing a disturbing man you came across occasionally here and there.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ Your mind started to drift off before you heard boots scrapping across the bumpy pavement, swiftly catching your attention. That was the first time you saw her. She caught your attention from the get go, her auburn hair caught by the golden evening sunlight — she wore brown jeans and an old looking cardigan with a white shirt underneath. You stared at her as she stood outside the door holding a bar of clothes, digging in her jean pocket for some cash before stepping inside, you, slowly following behind. There weren't many women you came across during your killing spree. None that weren't being harassed by your next victim at least. and definitely none that looked like her. You tried to be subtle about the fact you were watching her, taking your clothes out of the dryer and placing them back into the washer as she did with hers. You didn't notice that she noticed, but neither of you said a word to each other. You were the only ones in the laundromat besides the older lady behind the counter closely focused on the tv hanging along the wall next to her. It was quiet, and beyond awkward as you both sat on opposite sides of the room waiting for the washers to go off, then switching to a dryer. You didn't tend to put a hit out on someone you were seeking a ride from, you always let fate put someone in your hands and trusted that they'd get you to where you needed without harm (the fact you had a gun and a knife, and weren't afraid to use either also helped). But there was something different about the way she carried herself that made you desperate to ask her, or at least find out where she was going. Maybe it was the fact you were touch strived, or maybe it was the fact you had been surrounded by men for months on end and wanted to have a conversation with a woman who wasn't in need of your help. Whatever it was, you always knew to follow through with your gut.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ Her clothes dried faster than yours. you watched again as she unloaded the dryer and put her clothes back into the bag she had brought them in, before walking out. Once she was out of the door, you rushed to be sure you don't miss her — unloading your own, still damp clothing. You waited until she was fully in her truck, keeping a slight distance as she pulled out of the parking lot. Following a few feet behind, the cool air hit your face as you stood at the end of the lot, watching her truck in the distance stop, not too far from where you stood, before it pulled into a local diner. You wasted no time making your way down the street towards the same building, determined to catch and speak to her this time.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ The bell above the door rang loudly as you stepped inside, a whiff of black coffee hitting your nose immediately upon entry. you noticed her the second you sat down — she was sitting alone, at a table not too far from where you were, a coffee already in her hand. there was a chance she noticed when you walked in, maybe her eyes turned to the door the second she heard the bell like everyone else did. or maybe she didn't care, either way, she didn't look up from the newspaper she had laid on her table. you didn't bother to order anything, unsure of how long she'd be there, you couldn't take the risk of being too indulged in your food and miss her. About 30 minutes passed before she stood up and tucked in her chair. She left a tip on the table and just as she was about to get away, you acted fast. "hey” you called out to her, a bit louder than you meant to which made you cringe, but it did the job — grabbing her attention. she paused with her hand on the truck door, her foot about to climb up before she stepped back down and turned slightly towards you. "Sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you just — um… are you heading out of town? i could use a ride if you got room" you asked looking over towards her open truck door, adjusting the bag on your shoulder. She stared back at you for a minute before she spoke, her emotion was hard to read which irritated something in you — after months of reading men like a book, she was the first person whose words you couldn't make out in your head before they were actually spoken. “What makes you think I’m going far?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow. You bit the inside of your cheek and sighed to yourself before answering; “ah i dunno... just figured i'd ask instead of wasting time tryna flag someone down". She looked you over again as you spoke, but it wasn't the way a man would, it was almost like an evaluation. "ya got anyone waiting on you?" she questioned, a question that confused you but you answered anyways — "no one" you said shaking your head. your response seemed to satisfy her as she nodded her head towards the passenger side. "c'mon then". it wasn't thorough, but it was enough to get you going. you wasted no time following her words, hopping inside after her and closing the door behind you. The inside of the truck smelled like pine and something metallic, old blood maybe, or just rust. The seemingly old seats squeaked under your weight as you adjusted yourself and fastened your seatbelt — taking your bag off and placing it on your lap.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ You were both quiet when she pulled out of the diner, and you remained quiet for lord knows how long into the drive. If you were being honest with yourself, what could you possibly say? this was the first time youd been in contact with a girl ... like her, in nearly forever. it was also the first time you ever felt something besides the thrill you got from killing. you weren't sure what the feeling was, but it was something different. she was the first to break the silence, looking at you fidgeting with your bag before she sighed and imitated a conversation. "so, what's your name?" You looked over at her, her eyes completely focused on the road now. you graced over her, noticing the way her slightly veiny hands gripped the steering wheel. "do i have to tell you" you responded, and she shrugged, "You don’t, but i did let you into my truck without running a background check. would at least be nice to know what to call ya" she responded and you hesitated. she did have a point you thought — and therefore you complied — speaking your name just above a whisper, slightly hoping she wouldn't catch it, but of course, she did. "alright then y/n. i'm Ellie.” She reached over and turned the volume up on the radio just a little after speaking, an old country song you couldn't recognize the name of hitting your ears. "Nice to meet you Ellie.. and thanks ... you know for the ride and all" you replied and she hummed in response. "how far y'lookin 'to go?" Ellie asked, her fingers tapping the steering wheel along to the along just slightly, though enough for you to notice. "not sure really. guess as far as you're willing to put up with me for". you really didn't know where you were going without a target out on the next victim. It was a weird feeling to be chasing practically nothing for once, and without fully understanding why you decided to chase it. But it was too late to back out, and there was nothing in your mind telling you to do so. How it would go from here was unknown, for once, things weren't completely in your control, there was no secret mind game to play — just fate and whatever slip of hope you had left from home.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ You drove mostly in silence for about another hour or two after that. The same few songs played over and over again on the radio, Ellie changing the station every once in a while, though there wasn't much change in the music itself. You stared out the window for the majority of the silence. There wasn't much on your mind to debrief about — the situation at hand didn't have much gravity to it and overall you've already gone over every possible thought about the last seven months of your life. so, you waited until Ellie eventually spoke again once she got to a red light. "Do you always hitchhike with strangers?" she asked, her voice lower than it had been before. you glared at her — trying to read whether it was a joke or an actual question, quickly giving up when you realized you still couldn't read past her. "Guess so" you answered somewhat emotionless, not wanting to give up too much detail, and she hummed again. You drove for another hour or so, before Ellie pulled into a small roadside motel, the neon sign flickering like it was struggling to stay alive. There were two other cars in the parking lot but nothing else that really caught your eye. “Alright" she spoke, pausing to shut off the radio and turn the car off before speaking again. "can either come in with me or catch another ride, m'not driving throughout the night" she said. You nodded at her and she turned to get out of the truck, you — taking an extra moment before getting out. It was already nearing 1am, so you couldn't blame Ellie for stopping. but the idea of staying alone with a stranger overnight, somehow didn't bother you as much as it should've. more so, having no prey at this moment didn't bother you either. Rather, the idea that she could possibly be the dangerous one didn't cross your mind, you only felt relief. relief that you have some sense of normalcy for a moment — as normal as being a runaway turned serial killer could possibly be. Staying at different places for months alone had its ups and downs, but you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't miss having some sort of contact with another human being — one that wasn't on your hit list at least. and therefore, you followed behind her.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ The room she paid for was surprisingly clean despite the outside look of the motel itself. the curtains were stained a bit yellow and there was dust amongst the tables, but besides that nothing seemed particularly bad. The only major flaw that caught your eye — being the singular bed. the lady working at the front desk, insisting they didn't carry doubles. Ellie tossed her bag onto the chair and unzipped it slowly, pulled out a pack of gum and offered you a piece. You shook your head and sat on the edge of the bed. Your demeanour was more awkward than usual, it was slightly funny to you — the way you caught yourself being filled with such a confusing feeling after spending so long having others that way. Ellie leaned against the lone tv stand across from the bed, studying you for a moment before speech. “you ever gonna tell me why you were following me back there?” she asked. So she did notice you thought to yourself. Your natural reaction was to shrug. “I just had a feeling about you I suppose... i dunno". “feeling,” she repeated with an almost mocking scoff, “ya always go with your feelings hm?" she asked on, this time you were willing to give in slightly with more detail. Whether it was the lack of sleep or the fact you finally got a good look at her now that she was standing directly in front of you — whatever it was, made you feel a sort of desperation to be heard that you never felt before. She was still a stranger, you reminded yourself in your head. But there was something drawing you towards her that was almost magnetic. "most the time, they tend to be right" you replied. “can't say they've ever led me to... this though" you add. “this?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, her tone only got lower as the night went on it seemed. “this" you said again standing up, without really meaning to. it was unusual, like your body had a mind of its own and moved with the pace of your words. there was a rushing feeling in your blood, but for once, it wasn't the type of rush you got from murdering. This one was unfamiliar — but not the slightest bit less thrilling. You were close to her now — you didn't mean to move like that, but she didn’t back away at your movement, and you didn't think to stop yourself. For a moment, you were both still, so still it almost hurt. Then slowly, her hand came up and hovered near your jaw, not quite touching, but close enough to make you flinch at first — Ellie only letting out a soft chuckle at the sight. “you're real strange y'know" she muttered low. You tilted your head slightly which caused her lingering fingers to brush against your skin. with a small smirk you responded "yeah?", ellie nodding. "well so are you" you added, lookin down at the short distance between yours and her feet. You hadn't realized just how close the two of you got, until her hand was on your face. She reached down towards your chin, tilting your head up for your eyes to meet hers, her hand now sliding toward your jaw again. It caught you off guard, but you didn't pull back or ask her to stop as she pulled you in for a kiss. It wasn't soft or slow. It was sudden and rough, like both of you were touch strived and waiting for this exact moment to slap you in the face. her mouth tasted like gum and old coffee, but you were so in tune with her — it didn't matter, all you could do was kiss her back. So desperate, it was like you’d die if you didn’t. When you broke apart, she stared at you for a short moment, as if she was actually looking for a sign of discomfort from you. one, that of course couldn't be found — as you were more than comfortable enough now, to pull her back in for another one.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ellie's hand dragged down your thigh, the two of you slowly moving towards the bed — your mouths still attached with every movement. she pushed you down onto the shockingly soft mattress, her lips moving from yours and making their way to your jaw, then your neck. you let out a shaky breath in response to her take over, which caused her to lift up from your skin. she leaned down to place another softer kiss on your lips this time, before cupping your face and speaking — her touch, more gentle than you could've ever expected. it was like her skin melted perfectly into yours, spiking a feeling you longed for. "tell me if you want to stop" she spoke above a whisper, words you wouldnt have guessed, though they only made you ache for her even more. "please.... keep going" you spoke through heavy breathes, Ellie smiling just a bit at how worked up you had already become. her lips attached back to your skin, making their way across your body as her hands were rubbing up and down your thigh for a moment — before she began to toy with the fabric underneath your skirt. She didn't question you this time, your body naturally grinding up against her hand being enough of an invite as she pushed aside the fabric. "fuck" you gasped as her fingers came in contact with your cunt. she teased you for a minute, brushing a finger up and down your slit as you desperately chased some form of friction — ellie letting out a scoff in response to the image. "ya really need this huh?" she spoke, your eyes locking onto hers while she practically taunted you. "mm y-yes-" you were cut off by your own moans as she pushed apart your folds, rubbing circles on your drenched clit. "god... already so wet f'me honey" she spoke, ans you let out another whine in response. "s'all okay.. i'll take good care of you” Ellie informed, her fingers now making their way to your entrance as she lowered herself down towards your legs. her movement was gentle, enough for you to fully take in every finger she carefully pushed into you. she started off slow, pulling in and out of you and paying close attention to your expression — how pathetic you looked trying to stay quiet while she fingered you. It was hard at first, but even harder once she started eating you out. her tongue, like a magnet to your clit. she sucked on you like it was her first and last meal — like she had to savour every moment of it. "e-ellie .. god it's too much please" you whined, unsure of what you were begging for — all Ellie could focus on was how good you tasted, how good you sounded for her, completely under her strength. "you taste amazing" she mumbled, her fingers speeding up their pace as her mouth stayed attached to your cunt. "prettiest pussy I've ever had" she added, and you let out a louder moan in response, quickly shutting yourself up when you caught it. but she wasn't having it, "don't ... don do that ... wanna hear you" she ordered, and you obeyed.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ you moans rang throughout the walls as ellie took her time with you. eating you out with her fingers buried inside of you — it was an overwhelming sensation you never wanted to end. "el.." you couldn't make out her full name through your moans, you were more than close — on edge, but she didn't stop. "i know .. c'mon baby i wanna taste you.. let go f'me" she assured you, not that you could really hold back with the way she was fucking you. "mm it's soso good please don't stop ... i'm gonna-" you let out a mix of moans and soft whines in response to her words. and as your orgasm came over you — you caught yourself inside of your head once again. thoughts were finally becoming coherent. but they were nothing close to negative, nothing close to what you had ever thought before. you were having sex with a complete stranger. you were giving into sex with a complete stranger, and it didn't feel bad. she didn't feel bad. there was no sense of guilt or worry. you we're completely indulged in her, just as she was you.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ You dozed off not too long after she was done with you. Ellie, who was ever so gentle with you once you came down from your high, treating you like a vase that could crack any moment — cleaned you up with care, offering to run you a bath and repeatedly apologizing for bruises that started to form on your inner thighs. Your body was sore in a way you hadn’t felt in years. but it wasn't from running this time, it wasn't from fighting or violence — only from the touch of another. the touch you allowed to be there. It was almost unsettling how good it felt. The motel room was quiet when you turned over again. The sheets were barely draped across your hip as you drifted in and out of sleep — your eyes struggling to open fully, though coming apart just enough for you to notice the space in bed beside you, empty with ellie's indent left in it. Your breath hitched, but you didn't move. your eyes and ears came into focus slowly, but once they did — you heard it. the soft shuffle of movement at the foot of the bed. A faint rustle. You turned your head only a bit, not enough to make a noise — and that's when you saw her crouched low, her back to you. Ellie’s hands were deep in the front pocket of your bag, the sight of it making you feel as if your heart had slammed against your ribs. you were frozen solid as you watched her quickly move throughout your belongings — your breath getting stuck in your throat when she slowed down. That's when you watched her closely. ellie stood up — the edge of a photograph clutched between her fingers before she placed it on the table and leaned back down, pulling out another. then another. then another. "fuck" you whispered to yourself, closing your eyes before she could notice you awake.

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this is my first fic since january ... i promise it will get better with part two. tag list ; @dykeadvocate @abigaillovestoread @mabermaple @imdrowningindispair @dyk3ang3l @ellieshothousewife @lotudolly @euph0riafilms

[ellieismybbg]

lottienat hate is so interesting to me because their character foil realness is just too powerful to ignore??? the prophet and the non believer, but they're both the most empathetic people in the teen timeline. their personal dynamics with travis show this; they both protect and defend him because they both see he's very vulnerable. they do it in different ways, but at their core they are the same. they are both providers; nat provides food, lottie provides hope. they are both leaders; nat (was) the leader of state, and lottie was the religious leader. their roles in the narrative play so well into each other

the point that nat is “the wilderness'" favorite is a point driven home by the show many times; and it's also heavily implied (and also practically laid out) that the wilderness is basically just… lottie. lottie is the one who sees it, hears it, and explains it. she chooses natalie for leader and she's the one that takes it away. "you were always Its favorite" It is just LOTTIE

in the teen and adult timelines, they are symbolic for the most vulnerable parts of one another due to the ways they challenge them. who is able to make lottie question and feel bad for her spirituality in the teen timeline? nat’s skepticism and lottie's false hope speech go hand in hand here. who is able to comfort nat in the adult timeline despite her hardships? lottie is. nat sees lottie in her final moments because of this complex connection they have

their roles in the narrative and in the group are amongst the most valuable in the show, and their connection is very complex despite having few nice interactions. the ship is built around this complex and interesting dynamic that really builds on both of their characters indiviually

[ellieismybbg]

the de-strapification of shauna shipman…

a case that never sat right with me

[ellieismybbg]

IF YOU LOVE ME HARDCORE, THEN DON’T WALK AWAY — 4. you’re no good for me

fic masterlist | player!vi x unbothered!reader

CONTENT: slight angst. a bit of drunk texting. yearning. fluff if you really squint.

TAGLIST: @youngtastemakerfart @daremna @baylegend6 @thewonderlandish @saturnhas82moons @babiedolllz @marieeeluvsyou @stormmie234 @ellieslosttwofingers @mytaping @sevikas-whore @jivimatcha @elliesbabygirl @klallx @honeyylovee @dreamypinkprincessworld @ferxanda @asothinking @prettyinpink69 @lovediary222 @onyxherman @m3ta4r @soodle-noup @professionallunatic @7-ktr @wrappedinvines @rhian88 @onyxherman @fridayf1ghting @norwayromanoff @teaeeye @maxinesgun @furtherrawayy @vxtanne31 @salsalsusu @cloudy-fay @arahiraaai @mikellie @prwttiestbunny @morticeras @sexlus

[ellieismybbg]

Love Me Not

summary: “Oh, it’s hard to leave you when I get you everywhere”

an: Hi 😳. I know okay…I KNOW!!! It’s here, and it’s done, and Jesus Christ I seriously hope you like it. This series was soooo much fun but boy am I glad it’s finished. I have been sitting on this one for way too long, it’s about time it’s given to you all. You waited so patiently, and for that i am forever grateful. Enjoy darlings 🤍🤍🤍

warnings: MDNI!! 18+ fic!!, smut!, angst!, sub!Ellie bc she’s a fucking mess for this girl poor thing. Mentions of alcohol, tribbing, oral (Ellie!receiving), edging, Ellie is super duper soft in this one. Pls lmk if I missed anything!!!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Ellie could count on her hands the amount of times she’d been hung up over a girl.

There was that one time when she was really young. There was a girl in her class with the most mesmerizing hair, curls that bounced like coils every time she moved. Ellie was like 6 and had no idea how to navigate the puppy love crush she had on her classmate, so never truly said anything. That one always really sticks, since it was her first real crush and not some cartoon character.

Then there was another girl in her seventh grade science class. Ellie sat right behind her, and always got a whiff of her fruity smelling body spray. Ellie’s sure if she smelled it today she’d be transported to a time of puberty and skinny jeans. One day the girl turned around and asked Ellie for a pencil and she completely froze. Body spray girl stared at Ellie like she had three heads, confused as to why she’d suddenly turned into a statue with not even a shake of the head to her pencil request.

These awkward, unrequited crushes fizzled out once Ellie got the high school. She’d found herself in a way, straightened it her posture so she didn’t walk with a slouch, ditch her god awful permanent pony tail for a choppy bob, revamped her wardrobe, did all the things she had to do to feel comfortable in her own skin rather than trying to wear one she didn’t fit in.

In the process of all this, the girls at school found her too.

She was almost overwhelmed with the attention she started getting during her freshman year. Imagine her, poor thing practically shaking in her boots while the girls flocked her like moths to a flame in the girls bathroom while they changed for gym class, practically shoving their phones into Ellie’s chest to exchange phone numbers and social media tags.

The moment Ellie accepted it and actually decided to speak to these girls, she learned that she was in fact a natural born flirt. It had always been there, she’d just been too chicken shit to apply herself.

Your brother was there during all of this too, following along as they both left you in the dust, welcoming the attention they bother gained from their transformations over the summertime. It was like overnight, the dynamic duo suddenly ruled the school and had all the girls at their feet.

So yeah, it was all of two times and when it did happen, it was because she was still terrified of the way girls made her feel.

But god….none of that came close to what you were doing to her now.

She was an adult now, an adult who wasn’t interested in a relationship right now. It wasn’t like she was a slut or anything, she simply liked her freedom. She liked hanging out with her friends, she liked being able to go where she wanted without feeling obligated to tell a girl where she was or what she was doing. She didn’t want anyone breathing down her back every waking minute of her life.

So if that was true? Why the hell were you the only thing on her mind.

Sure…you’ve always been cute. You were always around, trailing behind Ellie and your brother, trying your best to keep up while simultaneously annoying the hell out of them to include you in whatever they were getting into that day. You were the textbook little sister, a brother and his best friends worst nightmare.

It got even worse when you started to get older.

You stopped trying to tag along, finding your own friends to occupy your time during weekends and summer break. You no longer trailed behind them all day, opting to ditch them for your own friends instead. In this time, you were getting over your own awkward phase. Finding yourself and what made you feel the most comfortable in your skin.

It was hard to ignore you. Ellie was only human after all, and a pretty girl was a pretty girl, which you were (very pretty might Ellie add). Ellie wasn’t the strongest soldier, so seeing you prance around your house in your cute little overalls and dresses was one of her hardest battles. And it wasn’t like Derek ever explicitly told her to back off of his little sister. Sure, Derek was protective, but you were your own person. If you and Ellie hit it off, then who was he to get in the way of that?

But that wasn’t even it. Derek didn’t have the slightest inkling that there were any feelings between you and Ellie, he had no room to think about that because of how much Ellie disliked you, or at least how much she seemed to dislike you.

That was all Ellie. She’d always brushed you off, even when you were little. That was mainly because no one ever really wants the annoying kid sister to bother them, however it went beyond that once you all got older. Ellie wasn’t annoyed, or uninterested in whatever it was that you had to say, she was downright cruel. Bitter and mean was an understatement, and she could see the way each and every mean word she shot your way only further cemented the perception that there would never be a world where you and her could survive.

Because she saw it. She saw it in the way your eyes would linger on her, or the way you’d smile brightly whenever you walked in with a fresh baked batch of cookies or whatever the hell it was you were baking. Just because you’d found a life of your own, it didn’t mean you stopped trying to wiggle your way into Ellie and your brothers festivities from time to time.

Ellie knew that you were trouble, and she wasn’t going to let you drag her down a path she knew she’d regret.

You were too sweet, too fucking kind. Ellie knew that if she indulge in you for even a second, you’d want something more than what she could give. She could see it in your eyes, even though you did little to give it away. Ellie could see through it all, and risking your feelings and the relationship with her best friend was something she didn’t want to even begin thinking of doing. Being a total bitch to you was the only answer that made sense to Ellie.

Never did a million years did Ellie think that during a routine summer trip back home, you’d come in and fuck all of that up for her.

Because now you’re on her mind all the time. Ellie dreams about you, she falls asleep thinking about you, she wakes up thinking about you, there really isn’t a time during the day that she isn’t thinking of you. It’s suffocating, and it drives her fucking crazy because all she can think about is when she can have you again, what plan she could orchestrate that will grant her the blessing that is you. She’d fly to the moon and back without a spacesuit on if it meant she could have you without the complications that came with it all.

You linger in the back of her mind, the smell of your skin wafting into her nostrils during random points in the day, times where you aren’t even near her. The feeling of your lips on hers is cemented into her brain, making her weak in the knees every time her eyes flutter shut and she’s able to make out the feeling of your sweet mouth pressed against hers. The shape of your body feels like a puzzle piece, slotted perfectly into hers and molding against her, making her feel like there really isn’t anywhere in the world she belongs more than she belongs with you.

Ellies never felt like this about anyone, and it’s fucking scare her.

It’s how she ended up here, sitting on the couch in your living room and waiting for you to come downstairs and explain yourself.

She saw red when she heard you through the door, your sweet moans contained by the thick walls of your bedroom. Ellie thinks back to when those moans were for her, when you she had you a whining mess beneath her, begging to cum. She remembers how pretty your eyes were when you tugged her down for a kiss, they were practically sparkling with a need that drove Ellie fucking insane.

Knowing that someone else was seeing you that way made her blood run cold.

She didn’t sleep a wink that night, storming down the stairs of your house and settling on your couch. She was like a statue, unmoving as she waited for the inevitable moment that you’d finally come downstairs. A small part of her hoped you’d kick Abby out the same way you kicked her out the last time you were together, seemingly chalking it up to you wanting to sleep in your bed alone.

But time continued to pass, and the sun began to seep into the big windows of your home, and that never happened.

No, you stayed up there with Abby all night. You couldn’t really bring yourself to turn her away after your night together. Her strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back into her chest as her hand came up to gently stroke your hair as you fell asleep. It was blissful, the first night since your time with Ellie you were able to sleep with your mind free of the green eyed monster that had taken over your life.

Abby wakes you up with kisses to your neck, her hand slipping under the hem of your t shirt and stroking your bare skin gently as she pulls you out of your dreams. It’s almost too much, the warmth she brings overwhelming as she wakes you up. You dread the moment you’ll have to get up and walk her downstairs.

Little did you know, Abby leaving was the least of your worries.

The sound of your giggles breaks Ellie out of her various daydreams about how she’ll give you and Abby a piece of her mind. She ignores the way it makes her heart flutter, instead keeping her head straight as the sounds of your footsteps grow closer and closer.

“I should be free next Friday…I just need to make sure Derek doesn’t have any plans-“ your flirty words are abruptly stopped once you reach the bottom of the stairs and catch Ellie sitting on the couch.

“Ellie?” You call out softly, your lips tugging down into a gentle frown as you watch the girl staring blankly at the black tv screen.

She inhales deeply before finally standing up from the couch and turning around to watch you. Her appearance nearly makes you gasp, her eyes are low and dull, staring straight into your soul as her tattooed arms cross over her chest. Her tongue darts out slowly to wet her chapped lips before she exhales through her nose.

With the way she’s staring at you, you’re sure that whatever she’ll say next will be directed at you. Her stare is intense and it makes your stomach coil as you stare into her eyes, feeling like she’s judging you as she bores holes into your skull.

But to your surprise, she doesn’t.

Her state shifts behind to to Abby, who’s been silently standing behind you as she watches the awkward stare down between you and Ellie.

“The fuck are you doing here” Ellie spits out as she nods her chin towards the blonde, her words laced with a bitter tone that sends electricity down your spine.

Abby raises her eyebrows at the brunettes question, scoffing softly before she steps forward a bit so that she’s closer behind you. “Was just catching up with an old friend….I didn’t know I needed to call and update you on my every move, Williams” Abby teases, her tone far lighter and more playful than Ellie’s.

Ellie doesn’t seem to get the memo.

“Cool. All caught up then?” She bites back, eyes still laced with something that scares even you.

Abby’s tongue darts out to lick her lips, eyes still trained on Ellie. She then looks down at you, seeing how intently you’re staring at Ellie, anticipating her next move, silent as a mouse.

It doesn’t take much for Abby to now exactly what’s going on here.

She inhales deeply before she nods, her eyes dropping down to the ground before she speaks. “You’re right…I’m sure you’re very tired” Abby drawls out as she looks down at you, the smirk on her face matching the teasing tone in her voice.

Ellie feels like she’ll fucking break something right then and there.

Abby’s words make you stumble over your own. You blink quickly, practically bringing yourself back to life as you turn around to look up at her, giving her a quick nod paired with a small smile. “Yeah…yeah! I’ll uh….ill walk you out” you tell her, your hand going down to interlock your fingers with hers as you lead her to the door.

You open the door for her, inhaling deeply as she finally turns around and gives you a small smile. “Text me….ill come and pick you up on Friday” she promises, her words making your eyes go wide.

If her bold words weren’t enough to shock you, what she does next practically takes your breath away.

She leans down a bit, strong arm going around your waist and pulling you close as she presses a kiss to your mouth. It makes you gasp softly, eyes fluttering shut as you let out a small yelp which Abby swallows up happily, her hand toying with the silky fabric of your top.

When she finally breaks the kiss, she smiles down at you, her hand coming up and brushing a few strands of hair from your face. “I’ll see you later angel” she promises, blue eyes staring deeply into yours before they flicker up to Ellie, a taunting smirk on her lips as she stands up straight.

“I’ll see you around Williams” she promises, giving your waist a gentle squeeze before she finally leaves.

You’re too stunned to speak after all of that, the tension between the two women almost making you dizzy. The air was thick, and it made it hard to breathe especially when Abby kisses you like that in front of Ellie, taking the air right out of your lungs and into her own.

You don’t even want to look at Ellie right now.

She’s angry. Nostrils flared, eyes low, fists balled, she looks like she’s ready to fucking kill someone and you’re directly in her line of sight.

You can practically feel her eyes boring holes into the back of your head, and it makes your breath shaky as you struggle to figure out what to do, wondering whether or not you should turn around and face the girl behind you.

You decide that right now, you can’t.

You keep your head down as you turn around, trying your best to swiftly pass the girl to go up the stairs. You hope that this is just her being dumb and trying to cock block for the sake of it and nothing more, mainly because you aren’t entirely sure you could handle it if it were something more.

Right when you think you’re in the clear, you feel a familiar hand grab your arm tightly.

It makes you gasp softly, feeling as she pulls you to look at her instead of letting you go upstairs. You’re met with those same green eyes that were cemented into your memory, the ones that stared into yours as Ellie begged you to cum for her.

“What the fuck was that” Ellie’s voice is low as she stares into your eyes, grip tightening around your arm as she licks her dry lips.

You stumble over your words, her intense stare turning you into a stuttering mess as you shake your head quickly. “I…what was what Ellie? I don’t-“ she’s quick to cut you off.

“Don’t be stupid. Why the fuck did you choose her” the word falls from her lips like venom, the green eyed girl practically seething it out as she interrogates you.

“You did it on purpose didn’t you…you know how much I fucking hate her, so you wanted to get back at me” she accuses as she gets closer, backing you up into a wall, her body nearly pressed against yours.

Your brain practically short circuits.

Because Abby is your friend, a good friend of yours that you’d had for a large portion of your life so far. She was kind and funny and if you had to admit, you were a little shocked that you two had ended up sleeping together.

But never in a million years did you think that Abby and Ellie had some sort of infamous feud.

Your eyebrows furrow softly as you stare up at her in confusion. “On purpose? Ellie what the fuck are you talking about?” You bark back, suddenly feeling hurt over the girls accusations of you.

She chuckles softly as she nods slowly. “We both knew what you were doing…needed some attention huh? You know you didn’t need to do all of this to get it…” she hums out softly, her bottom lip tugging underneath her teeth as her hand lets go of your arms, and falls down to your waist.

Usually, this would’ve had your head spinning. And while it does make you dizzy, it isn’t at all for the reasons it would have before.

Ellie is fucking with your head at this point.

“Get the fuck off of me Ellie” you sigh out as you roughly push her off of you, allowing you to quickly slip past her body and run up the stairs before she can stop you.

You miss the shocked expression on Ellie’s face when you slip passed her, your feet padding along the wooden steps as you make your way up to your bedroom. She wasn’t entirely sure how you’d react to the quick shift in the conversation, having her going from accusing you to fucking Abby just to get to her, to trying to get it in with you right after.

You’ve had enough at this point. Ellie makes your head spin in the worst fucking way and you know that if you let her in again, you’ll never be able to put an end to whatever fucked up mind tricks she kept playing on you.

Things between you and Ellie had to stop, and you were going to be the one to put an end to it.

Ellie has fucked up in her life….a lot.

And who doesn’t, right? Humans make mistakes, not everyone’s perfect, that much is true. Ellie wasn’t perfect, which she was entirely okay with of course. She didn’t strive to be perfect, she didn’t put those expectations on herself or allowed anyone in her life to expect that of her either. She was a good friend, a great daughter, well rounded student, hard worker, all of the things that really mattered she had checked off.

But man….had she fucked things up royally with you.

Here she was, thinking she could keep you both in a never ending loop of sex and awkward interactions, top it off with some uncomfortable conversations here and there that would most likely turn into screaming matches, and that was enough.

Even though she knew it wasn’t.

You were too good for that. You were too good for the fucked up cycle that she’d created for the two of you. You deserved so much more. You deserved the fucking world served on a silver platter, any and every good thing should’ve been handed to you the moment you asked for it. Ellie had made your life a living hell since you were a kid and yet you still went out of your way to be cordial with her, never letting that sweet persona of yours drop even for an asshole like her.

Ellie fucked up a lot, but she wasn’t an idiot.

She knew why she did what she did, she wasn’t unaware of her own actions. She didn’t need a therapist to read her to absolute filth to get the answers behind why you were so cruel, it was simple.

Ellie hated the way you made her feel.

She hated the thoughts she had of you. She hated the way you lingered in her mind, your voice playing over and over again in her head, giving her no room to escape the absolute lullaby that was you. She hated how much she felt for you, realizing just how much you’d been lingering in her mind before now, even if she didn’t even realize it.

She hated that she’d never thought about a girl the way she thought about you. She hated the way she yearned for your skin against hers. She hated the way you could walk into her bedroom right now, and she’d get on her knees and beg for forgiveness.

What she hated the most though? Was the look in your eyes the last time she was staring into them.

You looked….disgusted. Utterly appalled with Ellie’s behavior, shocked that she’d even think you’d let her touch you again.

Yeah. That one was one for the books.

Ellie didn’t even know you were capable of looking so put off by someone. You were always so kind, so understanding, and you’d welcomed her happily every time she tried going to you this summer.

It seemed she’d crossed a line that she couldn’t get back over.

She didn’t even think it was going to be that bad. Sure, maybe you’d be pissed off with her for a few days, but you never held a grudge. After a day or two, you were back to your normal, bubbly self. That’s how things normally was, that’s how they’d been over the course of the summer so far for the most part.

Not this time.

Ellie almost wondered if you’d give yourself some time away from her like you’d done in the past, locking yourself away in your bedroom until you were ready to come out again. She figured this was your way of decompressing, not for a second giving anymore thought to the fact that you were in fact decompressing from her.

She was shocked when she saw you roaming around the house the next morning, bright and early before either herself or your brother were awake.

In true Ellie fashion, she pretends like she doesn’t see you.

Mainly because she doesn’t really know what to make of the situation yet. She doesn’t know where you stand, how you’ll react towards her, and clearly you’re calling the shots in this situation now because how you’re handling this plays a big part in how Ellie will handle it.

That morning, she watches you from the corner of her eyes. You go on as if you’re the only one there, your headphones covering your ears as you hum softly to the music playing through them, a song Ellie can barely make out over the gentle sound of bacon and eggs sizzling in the pan you’re working on.

The sound of your sugary voice jumping back and forth between humming the melody of the song you’re listening to, and softly mumbling the lyrics makes Ellie’s heart jump. There’s something so domestic about seeing you this way, and Ellie can’t stop the way her mind drifts off to a place in the nearby future. A place where you’re wearing your cute pajamas, sock clad feet padding along the wooden floor as music plays softly throughout the kitchen, aiding you in your morning routine of making breakfast for both you and her. She imagines wrapping her arms around your waist, pulling you into her chest as she presses loving kisses to your neck, the smell of your flowery shampoo filling her nose and making her head spin, hands toying with the soft material of your sleep shirt. She imagines resting her chin on your shoulder as she eyes whatever is it you’re making for the two of you, asking if she can help in any way. She imagines the way you sway against her, the feeling of your body alone making her feel complete, making her feel like the only place that could ever be called home is you-

The sound of your back door slamming loudly snaps her out of her homey day dreams of the two of you.

The sound makes her flinch, and she can see from her spot on the couch that in the time she was having silly little fantasies about you, you’d finished cooking, plated up your food, and retreated out to the back without saying a single word.

Not so much as a look was sent Ellie’s way from you that morning, which was a side of you that she’d never seen.

You tended to hide away from the world whenever you were angry or upset, keeping that side of yourself private rather than being open with the person that made you feel that way. Ellie was an expert in that, you’d ran away from her too many times to count within the time that she’d known you. She never truly saw you angry at her, or at anyone. You gave yourself time to burn off that anger and simmer down before returning back to the you that everyone was the most familiar with.

The week after the whole Abby situation was filled with moments like that. You lived your life as if Ellie didn’t exist. Gone were the annoyed little huffs you’d give her, or the bratty eye rolls that you’d make sure she’d see whenever she got on your nerves. Those were all things of the past. It was like Ellie was a ghost, living in a reality where she didn’t exist to you. Ellie could be on fire in the middle of your living room and you wouldn’t bat an eye, instead busying yourself with talking on the phone with your friends from college or texting Abby.

Yeah, that was the nail in the coffin with all of this.

Ellie would lay in her bed night after night, straining to listening to the sound of your soft giggles paired with Abby’s voice coming in through the speaker of your phone. Ellie quickly realized that she doesn’t think she’s ever heard you laugh that way with her.

Ever.

Ellie wasn’t an idiot. She was emotionally mature….for the most part. She knew that regardless of how she felt, she wronged you. Before the Abby thing, this entire summer had been filled with different occasions of her being a total dick to you, and you didn’t deserve any of that.

Ellie knew that if she was going to get anywhere with you, she needed to apologize first.

She does it about a week later. At that point it’s been the longest since she’s spoken to you the whole summer and she’s going slightly insane. It’s raining, so you all decided to stay in. She waited in her room, legs dangling off the edge of the bed as she stared up at the ceiling, waiting for you to get out of the shower and go back to your room.

The sound of the water turning off lets her know you’re finished. She gives you a moment, wanting you to be dressed by the time she goes over. After some time passes, she takes a deep inhale before she pushes herself up onto her feet so she can make your way to your bedroom.

It’s pathetic because she can’t remember the last time she was this nervous. She sure as hell wasn’t this nervous when she was sneaking into your room to get you off a few weeks ago. All she was doing was going to talk to you and she could hear her fucking heartbeat in her ear.

Soon she’s in front of your door, taking a deep inhale before her tattooed hand comes up to rap it.

You perk up at the sound, your eyes drifting over to your door. You furrow your brows in confusion, opening your messages to see if you’d missed any texts from your brother to prompt him to visit you in your room instead. You see you have no messages, for a moment wondering if you should get up and open it. On any other given day you probably would have, but the extra guest in your house made the likeliness of it being your brother go down to about half.

You sit up in your bed, facing your door before calling out. “Who is it?” You question wearily.

Your voice makes Ellie tense up, and she inhales deeply before she speaks. “I…it’s me…can we talk?” She breaths out, her nerves forcing her voice to go shaky, making her clear her throat once she’s spoken.

There’s silence on the other end, and Ellie isn’t entirely sure how to take it. She inhales deeply before speaking again. “I know I’ve been a dick but just…I can’t apologize through a door…come on” she pleads with you once more, only for her words to be in vain once she’s met with even more deafening silence.

It makes her stomach churn, and she knows she has limited options here. She blinks a few times before her hand wraps around the doorknob, checking to see if she’s able to twist it open. Once she feels the familiar feeling of the knob turning, she’s filled with a temporary sense of relief. “Fuck it…I’m coming it” she announces, turning the knob fully before pushing the door open.

She finds you on your bed, completely unbothered as you scroll through your phone mindlessly. Ellie licks her lips as she takes you in, acting almost as if she wasn’t even in your bedroom, going about your business as you were prior to her being there.

“Can you just look at me when I’m talking to you? That’s all I’m asking for here” she begs, arms crossing over her chest as she stares down at your form in your bed.

Ellie thinks she’s dreaming when she finally hears a gentle huff leave your lips. You toss your phone to the side before pushing your blanket off your legs and move to sit up. You sit criss crossed as you give her an unamused look, a gentle frown on your lips as your eyes practically beg her to get on with what she has to say.

She blinked a few times in shock, her heart nearly beating out of her chest when she sees you’re finally looking at her. She inhales deeply before speaking again. “Look…I’m sorry, okay? For all of it. I’m sorry for being so shitty to you when we were kids and…and I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting this summer, you don’t deserve any of that shit. And I’m sorry for the Abby thing…she’s a fucking bitch but I shouldn’t have did what I did. And….and” she stutters, struggling to pinpoint where else she’s failed so she can apologize, the words she’s looking for hanging on the tip of her tongue as she runs her hand through her hair.

“And I’m sorry being so fucking mean to you all the time” she breaths out, her face flushed as she stares into your eyes, chest rising and falling as she comes down from her rant.

All you do is give her that same unamused look, let out a gentle sigh before moving to lay back down into your bed, taking your phone into your hand and going back to whatever you were doing prior.

“Cool. You can leave now” you hum out casually before turning on your side, tugging your blanket further over your shoulder, practically shielding you from her gaze.

Ellie is dumbfounded, like hanging agape as she stares at you in disbelief. She’d just poured her entire heart out to you, letting you in on the mental turmoil she’d been experiencing this past summer that was putting her quite literally out of her mind…

And you didn’t even care.

“Are you…are you fucking kidding me right now?” She scoffed out in utter shock, her hand going up to run through her auburn locks as she looked around your bedroom, almost as if she were looking for the hidden cameras that would prove this is all a sick joke.

“I just gave you the apology of my fucking life and all you have to say is…is cool??” She breaths out in disbelief, staring down at you laid comfortably on your bed, cuddled up beneath your plush blankets as if she weren’t even there.

Ellie watches as your eyes drift over to hers for only a minute before they’re settled back onto the soft glow emitting from your phone screen, a gentle sigh leaving your lips before you sigh.

“Thanks for apologizing. You can leave now” you dismiss her once again, yet another confirmation from your end that you certainly were not interested in what Ellie had to say.

Her brows furrow, green eyes staring angrily down at you, nostrils flared as she feels herself growing angrier and angrier. She doesn’t really think when she moves next, her anger is doing all the work for her.

You go from feeling the warmth of your blankets on your skin, to your bare legs being exposed to the cold air in your dim bedroom. It makes you gasp, your eyes immediately going up to Ellie who’s just yanked your blanket off of your body, staring down at you expectantly.

You were going to acknowledge her, whether you liked it or not.

You scoff, tossing your phone to the side before you swing your legs off of your bed, and stand up so you’re now face to face with the green eyed demon that had bene ruining your life since you were a young girl.

This needed to end now.

“You think that just because you barge in here and give me some half ass apology, that you’re suddenly entitled to my attention? To my forgiveness?” You question, words rolling off your tongue like venom. You don’t give her time to respond, your chest slowly rising and falling at a quicker pace as you feel yourself getting angrier and angrier by the second.

“Do you think I’m a fucking idiot, Ellie? Do you seriously think I can’t see right through this little game you have? The second you realize I can give my time to someone else who’s actually worthy of it, you feel like you’re suddenly in the position to force me to acknowledge you. What about Hazel? Hm? Was I allowed to question you for the girl you were with? Or how about when she humiliated me in front of everyone multiple times, was I in the position to demand an apology?” You question her once more before you let out an unamused laugh, your hand coming up to tuck a stand of hair behind your ear before you inhale deeply.

“If you think that all the shit you’ve put me through will ever be undone by one sorry ass apology and the excuse of you being bad with your feelings, you’re gonna have a rude awakening Ellie” you finally sigh out gently, slipping past her and making your way to your bedroom door and opening it.

“Get out and don’t speak to me for the rest of the summer” you finalize, standing at the door as you wait for her to leave your bedroom.

Ellie doesn’t really know what to say, mainly because she’s never seen this side of you. You’re always so sweet, and quiet. Even after everything that she’d said and done to you, before this summer and after, you’d never said anything like this to her, or anyone for that matter.

The look in your eyes is what does it for her, it’s what proves to her you’re not just all bark and no bite, because you’re looking at Ellie like….

Like you’re disgusted by her.

You see a side of Ellie you’d never seen that night either, because Ellie is hot headed and has a horrible temper. You expected her to not go down without a fight, going back and forth with you until you were both blue in the face. In all honesty you had a list of things ready to throw back at her when you knew she’d refuse to leave at your first request.

But she doesn’t. She stares at you for a moment, green eyes studying your face and body intently as if she was going to say something. She doesn’t, all she does is storm out of your room, footsteps angry against your floorboards as she slips past you.

When she’s gone, you feel like you can finally breathe. Your hands are shaking from the adrenaline, shoulders that were once strong and confident slumping over when you let out a deep breath, one you’d seemingly held in the moment Ellie walked into your room. You tried to keep your composure around her, you’d rather die than show her how much control she had over you, how deeply she’d settled into your bones, made it nearly impossible to do anything or be anywhere without thinking of her.

Ellie was losing her mind, to say the least

You’d made yourself almost completely sparse throughout the spacious home ever since then. You’d leave the house before anyone woke up, and you’d come home after everyone went to sleep.

There was one night in particular however, where Ellie had decided to stay home from a party everyone was going out to. It was a sorry attempt at trying to talk to you again, but she could only hope that whatever you were out doing tired you out enough to at least give her a moment to hear her out. She remembers how dark the house was that night, how quiet it was. There was a blue-ish glow emitting from the large tv in your living room, the sound of the game controller clicking gently as she tapped away at the buttons. It was late, and she was slowly losing hope that you’d come home. She didn’t want to think about that much, because you not coming home only meant one thing, and Ellie’s confused little heart truly could not handle that mental image right now.

Sometime within the night she ends up drifting off to sleep, eyes growing heavy as the pause screen stares back at her, gentle music from the video game only aiding in lulling her to sleep.

The noise of the front door paired with the melodic sound of your soft giggles is what brings her from it, green eyes slowly blinking open as she hears you clumsily kick your boots off, the heavy material thudding against the wooden floorboards as you let out a gentle groan.

“Shit…fuck…” you giggle out softly as you brace against the closet door, lazily kicking your shoes into the closet before tugging your jacket off and shoving it onto a random hanger. Ellie can tell from the way you’re giggling and talking to yourself that you’re drunk, it makes her sit up, the girl rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she adjusts the hoodie hugging her body.

Her breath gets caught in her throat when she sees you stop in front of the living room, head tilting the side in confusion as you watch the girl sitting there in your living room. It doesn’t help that you look stunning either, there’s something about how messy your hair is, a few strands falling over your shoulder, others framing your face beautifully. The dress you’re wearing hugs your body perfectly, the color complimenting your skin tone so well it was almost like it was made for you.

She’s staring so hard she doesn’t realize that you’re taking to her.

“What?” She practically chokes out, the girl completely taken aback over the fact that you’re actually…speaking to her?

You have to hold back a giggle at her reaction. Maybe it was the fact that you were drunk, or that you’d had a great time with at the party you were at, but you were able to put your annoyance for Ellie to the side for just a moment so your curiosity could take over instead. You knew your brother was going to a party tonight, and Ellie skipping out on a night out and staying home was like a fish saying he preferred his fish tank over the big blue ocean.

Or…maybe you missed Ellie.

“I said…what are you doing here? You didn’t wanna go with Derek?” You breath out, slowly making your way over to the girl. Soon you’re standing over her as she sits on the couch, big green eyes staring up at you in childlike wonder. It’s almost endearing how dumbfounded she is over you doing something as simple as speaking to her.

If anyone told you Ellie would be acting like this with you a few months ago, you’d tell them to kick rocks.

Ellie’s head is spinning when you’re this close, because she can smell your perfume lingering from your skin…god your skin, you look so soft, so inviting and warm. Her memories grew fuzzier and fuzzier with each growing day, and she was almost forgetting that she had you the way she wanted you at one point, moaning underneath her, begging for her while her hands were given your skin to squeeze and hold however she pleased.

“I…I um…” she stuttered, unable to find the words to say. Even if she could, what was she supposed to tell you. Was she supposed to tell you the truth? That she’d stayed home to wait up for you? To get this exact moment that she so desperately wanted? However now that she had it she was acting like she’d never talked to a girl in her entire life.

You hum softly, giving her a nod as if you understood the nonsense she was speaking completely. “You should go to bed…it’s late” you mumble out as you lift your head and turn to look at the clock on the wall, seeing that it was well past five in the morning. You both needed to sleep.

That’s when Ellie sees it, the standing lamp in the living room is dull, but the warm glow allows her to make out the deep purple marks littering your pretty neck, a hungry mouth latching onto your skin and marking you for the world to see.

God, it makes Ellie feel fucking sick to see that shit.

She licks her lips, ready to speak, ready to ask about who those are from even though deep down she already knows, and she knows that even if you do tell her, it won’t make anything better.

But she can’t because you’re looking down at her again with those pretty eyes of yours, the remaining lip liner fading away from your lips, leaving a pretty red tint to your soft lips. It’s been kissed away and that drives Ellie even closer to the brink of insanity.

“Goodnight Ellie…” you hum out, voice soft and gentle as you give her a half smile before you stumble off to bed, sure to peel your dress off and tuck yourself into bed only to sleep off the remaining lust and liquor that lingered in your system, unable to remember anything that was said to her when you wake up.

That little glimpse of you, of how she remembers you is what forces Ellie to hang onto you even more, even after you demanded she stop speaking to you for the rest of the summer. A moment of softness between the two of you had her groaning, shoving her face into her pillow as she yearned for more of it, more of you.

It was psychological warfare, and you didn’t even know what you were doing to her.

She doesn’t expect for that to be a peace offering from your end. She knows it was a one off, it was simply a time and place sort of thing. You were too drunk and sleepy to remember the anger you had for Ellie, and you being the kind person you are, was worried about her going to bed at a reasonable time.

Ellie hangs onto that night though, because as delusional as it makes her sound, it gives her hope.

She thinks about it particularly when your brother is sat on the edge of her bed, a loud groan emitting from his lips as he falls back into the soft mattress.

“Dude what is going on with you? You’ve flaked on like…the last three parties” your brother complains, his head tilting back to look at his best friend.

He finds her deep in thought, the brunette sighing softly as she shrugs while staring up at the ceiling above her. “I dunno…I just…haven’t really been in the mood to go out.” She lies with a gentle sigh. Well…it wasn’t entirely a lie. She really didn’t feel like going out, however it was why she didn’t feel like going out that she was leaving out of her responses to her best friend.

Telling your brother that you’re the reason she didn’t want to go out wasn’t exactly the smartest idea.

Derek groaned softly before he propped himself up onto his palms, letting out a low groan before he shook his head.

“I really need you tonight man…If you don’t go then that means it’s just me again and Hazels being a bitch about you not coming, on top of that I’m pretty sure my little sister is coming and I’m seriously going to need some help keeping those two from killing each other-“ Ellie is quick to cut your brother off the second he mentions you. She perks up immediately, the girl sitting up from her bed and eyeing your brother intently.

“Your sister is going tonight?” She’s quick to ask, so quick in fact that it catches your brother off guard. He stares at her for a moment, silently blinking as he watches the girl before he nods slowly.

“I…yeah? Why wouldn’t she go?” He questions genuinely.

It was almost incredible how oblivious your brother was to the tension between you and Ellie.

Her pink tongue darts out to lick her lips before she speaks once more. “You know what…you’re right. I haven’t gone out in a while…” she nods slowly before she swings her feet over the bed, quickly going over to her closet and rummaging through her clothes to pick out an outfit. “Get out. I need to shower and start getting ready.” She says as she begins zooming throughout her room to get dressed.

Derek watches his best friend almost in a trance. He was ready to beg her to come out at least five more times before he got shut down and inevitably kicked out of her bedroom, but he was not at all expecting her to jump up at the mere mention of going out.

Huh…maybe she was just…feeling tired?

Ellie let’s put another sigh as she turns around, hands placed on her hips as she gives your brother an annoyed look as she shrugs her shoulders. “I said get out man” she says once more. Your words seemingly finally register in your brothers head as he gives a quick nod, quickly jumping up from her bed. “Right! Yes…yeah I’m going….we leave in an hour alright?” He reminds her with an excited grin before finally leaving the girls bedroom.

Ellie usually tries to put in her best effort when going out, wanting to look good for any one she’d happen to run into, that wasn’t out of the ordinary for her. But tonight? Knowing you’d be there? She found herself struggling to wear something good, something that would make her feel confident, something that….

Something you’d like.

She saw the way you looked at her whenever she showed some skin, the way your eyes lingered whenever her tattoos were on full display for the old to see. Your eyes would linger on her inked skin whenever she had them out, so she knew for a fact she needed to show those off tonight. She settles on a pair of baggy jeans that rest low on her hips, and a fitted t shirt that allowed a sliver of her hips to peak out from beneath it. She lets out a soft huff as she runs her fingers through her hair, making sure she was happy with her appearance in the mirror before she started making her way downstairs.

Tonight’s different, because instead of everyone meeting at your house, it’s just Derek standing in the kitchen as he works on some drinks to pregame with.

3 drinks to be exact.

Ellie hums out softly as she makes her way to the island he’s set up at, palms resting against the cool marble as she eyes the concoction your brother works on.

“Just the three of us tonight?” Ellie hums out as she grabs a bottle of tequila, eyeing the label before she sets it back down. Derek hums softly as he nods, pouring what he’s working on into three red solo cups.

“Yeah, everyone else is just gonna meet at the club…it’s easier that way” he explains before he passes Ellie one of the cups, bringing one to his own lips as well as he eyes his friend. “Hazels coming though…she’s been asking about you for weeks man” he smirks out as he takes a sip of the drink.

Ellie practically winces at the mention of the girls name, but plays it off as the drink getting to her instead. She lets out a low groan before she shrugs. “Yeah man I…I don’t think I’m feeling her anymore” she explains, taking another sip of her drink.

Derek raises his brows at the girls words before he chuckles softly. “Oh? That’s new. You were talking about her the entire drive down here…” he quips before he takes another sip. “Got your eye on someone else?” He questions, giving the girl time to respond.

That makes a chill run down Ellie’s spine, because it’s comical how aware yet oblivious your brother is to the entire situation. She opens her mouth to respond, on the brink of actually telling him and admitting to herself that it’s you she has her eyes on, it’s you that has her so absolutely torn up she can barely get out of bed and be productive during the day because of how much she’s fucked up. It’s all you and she can barely fucking function without-

The familiar patter of your feet against the stairs has her thoughts cut in half.

You’re humming gently to yourself, hair styled perfectly when you come into view, denim shorts hugging your frame, wrapping around your hips and thighs as if your body was the only one in mind when they were made. Your pink top is such a pretty, shimmer material, the light catches different patterns on it and it looks like you’re practically glowing. Your lips are glossy, shimmery and pretty, it makes Ellie’s head fucking spin.

God, she’s so obsessed with you.

You give Derek a small smile as you slip past Ellie as if she wasn’t even there, standing beside him as you reach out to point towards the remaining solo cup. “This one for me?” You question, Derek nods as he slides the cup towards you. “Yes ma’am. Made sure to use tequila instead of vodka tonight, didn’t want to upset the princess” he mocks, patting your head gently which makes you roll your eyes as you nudge him gently. “Vodkas fucking gross. You guys are insane for guzzling that shit” you sigh out softly before you take a sip of your drink, a gentle hum leaving your lips as you give a nod of approval. “It’s good, thanks” you give your brother a soft smile as you thank him before you take another sip.

A blanket of silence falls over the three of you, Ellie’s eyes are practically glued to you as she eyes you closely, taking in your every move as her eyes linger on yours. You’re trying your best not to give into it, because you’d be able to feel those green eyes boring holes into your face even if the room were pitch black.

You let out a soft sigh before you quickly throw back the rest of your drink, not wanting to prolong things anymore or give Ellie any openings to ask you any questions in front of your brother.

“I’ll get the uber tonight, you guys can buy me drinks at the club” you hum out casually as you tug your phone out of your back pocket, mindlessly tucking your bottom lip beneath your teeth as you tap along your screen to call for the uber. Ellie’s eyes never leave your lips after this, zeroing in on the gloss painting your bottom lip while you focus on your screen.

God, tonight was going to be long.

It all happens in the blink of an eye. One moment Ellie is sat in the back of the uber with your brother, listening to you and him chatting back and forth with the uber driver. You were both always so friendly in that sense, sharing a sort of charm that she’d only ever really seen in the two of you. You were almost like twins in that sense, sharing that same charismatic, friendly, almost annoyingly likable personality. The moment either of you walked into a room, all eyes were always on either of you.

Then the next, you’re trailing behind her and your brother as they lead you both to the rest of their friends at the club. Ellie is so locked in on the idea of you, thinking of how she’d be able to get a moment with you, that she hardly realizes Hazel is squealing and practically jumping out of her spot in the booth and into her arms.

“Ellie! Where have you been!” She whines softly, pulling back and practically smashing her lips against Ellie’s before she’s given a chance to respond.

Ellie’s eyes go wide at the gesture, completely caught off guard by her forwardness. She places her hands on her hips, gently tugging her off of her body as she breaks the kiss, which is only met with an annoyed whine from Hazel. Ellie catches onto it, making out the image of the girls expression through the dim lighting of the club. She licks her lips, staring into the girls eyes for a moment before she turns her head to find you, suddenly only concerned with whether or not you just saw that.

When she does spot you, your eyes are already on the pair from your spot in the booth, snuggled between two of Ellie’s friends that are far too concerned with taking shots and laughing about whatever the hell they were talking about to notice the pouting girl in between them.

The moment you realize Ellie catches your gaze, you’re gently tapping the shoulder of your brothers friend, giving him a gentle smile as you ask him to scoot out of the booth so you could get out, wanting to head to the bar for a drink.

Ellie’s eyes linger on yours as she watches you leave, slowly losing you as you slip in between the crowded club to make your way to the bar. Hazel notices too, whining softly as her manicured fingers cup Ellie’s face, pulling her back to look at her instead of you. “What are you looking at? Didn’t you miss me?” She questions once more, the girl clearly getting more annoyed with the lack of response from Ellie’s end.

Ellie furrows her eyebrows as she lets out a sigh, looking away from the girl for a moment before she opens her mouth to speak. “Look Hazel…I’ve been thinking a lot and I just feel like-“ Hazel cuts her off with a soft huff as she shakes her head, wrapping her arms around Ellie’s neck as she leans in to press another kiss to her lips. “You just need another drink. I’ll ask Derek to grab us something, then we can dance, okay baby?” She promises with a reassuring smile before leaning in and pressing another kiss to her lips, giving her arm a gentle squeeze before she set off to find your brother.

Ellie let’s put an annoyed groan, tattooed hands running down her face as she watches Hazel completely disregard what she was saying, more so interested in following whatever narrative she had instead.

Why the fuck did Ellie ever like that girl to begin with.

Ellie tries her hardest to find you all night, but for some reason looking for you in that club was like trying to find a needle in the biggest haystack ever. Between Hazel clinging to her like a fly on a trap, to her friend group trying their best to catch her up on what she’d missed the last few outings they’d been on, Ellie felt like she was being pulled in ten different directions when all she wanted was a moment alone with you.

Ellie sees a fleeting moment when Hazel excuses herself to go to the bathroom and most of her friends have either found their way on the dance floor, or to the bar. Unfortunately for her, she’s already pretty tipsy at that point. Between her friends and Hazel, everyone wanted to show how much they’d missed her by showering her in alcohol.

Who knows, maybe the liquor is what she needed to finally face you.

She stumbles out of the booth you’d all been sat at, sighing softly as she made her way through the sea of people in search of you. She starts by looking for at the bar, then near the bathroom line. When she finds you’re neither there nor here, she inhales deeply as she makes her way to the dance floor.

Ellie wonder how it had been so hard to find you earlier, chalking it up to you most likely hiding from her, because as soon as she makes her way onto the dance floor, it’s almost like there’s a spotlight on you.

Your shirt dances in the multi-colored nights of the club, making you look almost magical. Your body moves like water to the music, hair swaying against your back as you put your hands up into the air and sway your hips without a single care in the world.

Ellie’s mouth goes dry at the sight of you, her drunk brain wishing for nothing more than to be able to call someone as beautiful as you, hers.

She licks her lips, walking into your direction. Her arms reach out for you, her hand coming down to rest against your waist as she leans in to talk into your ear over the loud music.

“Hey…can we um…can talk?” She shouts, giving your waist a gentle squeeze as if to give you a silent attempt at getting you to come with her.

You furrow your brows when you feel someone approach you, already exhausted from fighting off countless idiots that tried to dance with you. You just wanted to be alone and enjoy the music as if no one was watching. The drinks were good, the music was even better, and after how this summer had been going? Some alone time would do you good.

But Ellie clearly had other plans.

You want to ignore her, you want to put her in her place like you did in your bedroom that night. She deserves it, you know she deserves it, she knows she deserves it, and it’s about time you stand up for yourself within this fucked up situation you’d found yourself in with Ellie.

But that look in her pretty green eyes is so damn pitiful, you aren’t sure you can deny her anymore. After all, there’s still that little piece of you that’s so damn weak for Ellie.

You let out a gentle sigh, turning to look into the girls eyes before you give her a nod, knowing that denying her will only make her fight harder. You nod your head towards one of the stairs of the club, leading her up them.

Soon you two reach the rooftop patio of the club. The vibe is a bit less stuffy, and you spot an empty sofa near a corner where you think is a good spot for you two to speak.

You let out a gentle sigh as you sit down, patting the spot next to you for the girl to sit down.

The rooftop faces the beach, the cool sea breeze wafting against your warm skin. It’s a nice contrast from the hot, sticky club. If it wasn’t for the awkward circumstances, you think it would be a sweet place to bring Ellie up to.

You’re the first to speak despite Ellie asking to talk to you, a soft hum leaving your lips before the words leave your mouth. “Didn’t know you were still with Hazel….s’bit hypocritical of you, don’t you think?” You mumble out softly, your leg crossing over your knee as you wrap your arms around your own arms, staring out at the crashing waves before you.

Ellie blinks a few times at your words, the girl still a bit dumbfounded that she somehow got you out here to even speak to her in the first place. She doesn’t at all expect you to speak first, but your words make her frown gently.

“We aren’t together…we never were” she mumbles out softly, ignoring your other words as she lets out a gentle sigh.

“I don’t know how many times you want me to say sorry…I know I was wrong, okay? If I could take it back, I would” she sighs out, her back slumping into the couch as she spreads her jean clad legs, hands running down her face as she lets out an irritated sigh.

You scoff gently before you finally look over at her. “Even if I do forgive you Ellie, what do you want from me? Am I supposed to believe that after years of making my life hell, you suddenly give a fuck about me? Can’t you see how this is a little hard to believe?” You explain gently, your anger clearly having subsided since the last time you both spoke about this.

You sigh softly before you turn away from her, speaking once more. “You just want me because you can’t have me. You’ll get over this the second the summers over” you say to her, sounding almost as if you were trying to convince yourself more than you were her.

Ellie perks up at this, staring at the side of your face as you refuse to look at her. “You can’t be serious” she deadpans, the girl sitting up and resting her elbows on her knees as she cranes her neck down to look at you.

“I don’t get it either, okay? You’ve always been this…thing in my life that was so out of touch. I never even thought to think of you that way no matter how fucking irresistible you are. I knew crossing that line wouldn’t get me anywhere good but…fuck I didn’t think it would be this bad” she explains, her own eyes scanning out onto the rolling seas out on the horizon, giving herself a moment to think over her words.

She licks her lips for a moment before she sighs, finally looking back at you.

“What I do know, is that…I can’t get enough of you. And I’m willing to do whatever I can to prove that to you” She practically begs, her words filled with a sense of something you aren’t sure you’ve ever heard from Ellie before. It’s something mixed with desperation, pleading, honesty….

Longing

It makes your stomach turn and your chest burn with something for her you’d been ignoring the entire summer, your entire life even. You inhale deeply as you finally state into her green eyes that are staring desperately into yours, your tongue darting out to lick your lips before you finally speak. “Anything?” You question, your voice above a whisper as the word leave your mouth carefully.

It all happens in a blur, one moment Ellie is nodding eagerly at your question, the next, your dragging her out of the club, slipping past the mountain of sweaty people and quickly catching a cab, and the next thing Ellie knows…

She’s being dragged up to your bedroom.

Ellie feels like her head is spinning when you press your body against hers, soft mouth molding against hers as your hands wrap loosely around her neck. You taste of cherry lipgloss and mint, your soft tongue rubbing against Ellie’s makes her heart swell because she wasn’t sure she’d ever get the privilege of feeling you this way again.

Her hands roam your body, fingers sliding into the belt loops of your shorts as she pulls you flush against her body, needing desperately to feel you against her in every way possible.

You sigh against her, turning the both of you around as you begin leading her back towards your bed. She feels your palms press against her chest, forcing her back so she’s now sitting on your bed.

The sight of you above her makes her head swing, it makes Ellie tug her bottom lip between her teeth as her hands slide around the backs of your knees, pulling you closer as she spreads her legs for you to stand between them. “Missed you so much baby….more than you know…” she sighs out, eyes never leaving yours as one of her hands slides against your top, pushing it up as she presses her lips against your hips, leaving the lightest kisses.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch her. Her stare is intense, the look in her eyes telling you everything that you ever needed to know without a single word.

She was yours for the taking.

You inhale deeply as your hand comes down to Ellie’s hair, running your fingers through the silky strands for a moment before you tuck a strand behind her ear gently, tilting your head to the side as you watch her nip and suck at your skin.

“Such a pretty girl….” You hum out softly, your words making Ellie’s eyes flutter shut as they earn a gentle squeeze to your hips, her tongue swirling against your skin as her teeth come down to tug at the waistband of your jean shorts.

“But you need to be taught a lesson, Ellie….” You finish, words trailing off as they hang in the air. They excite Ellie, despite not knowing the extent of them. The fact that you have her here alone is enough for her, and she’ll do whatever the hell you want her to, to keep this going.

“Do whatever you want to me…I told you…I’ll do anything for you” she sighs out almost obediently, needy hands gripping your hips tighter just to keep you close.

Your hand goes from gently stroking her hair to taking a fistful of it, tugging it back to pull her away from your skin, forcing her to look up at you. It earns a needy whine from the girl, pink tongue darting out to lick her lips as she stares up at you almost in awe, watching as you handled her with a sense of wonder in her eyes.

“Good….because I don’t plan on being nice…” you sigh out softly, letting go of her hair roughly before you leave her for a moment, walking off to your drawer to grab something. “Lord knows you weren’t….” You mumble out softly, more so to yourself than to the girl.

Ellie hears it though, and it makes her wince with how badly she’d been treating you.

You come back soon enough, not giving Ellie enough time to dwell on things, on you. She doesn’t see anything in your hands at first, only that you’d slipped something into your back pocket. She can’t focus on that much, not when you’re straddling her lip and settling down on her. It makes her sigh with content, the girl eagerly pressing her lips back to yours now that you’re back with her.

She lets her tongue play with yours, the kiss is messy and needy and Ellie’s hands roam your body like it’s the last time she’ll ever have you, the girl desperately wanting to imprint this very feeling in her brain so she’d never have to go without it. She feels herself growing wetter and wetter by the second, panties clinging to her core as she feels too grinding against her lap, kissing her so sweetly, playing with her so nicely, she felt she could cum from it all alone.

Soon you’re pushing her back into your bed, forcing her to lay down against your pillows. The smell of your floral shampoo makes her head spin, it feels like she’s died and gone to heaven at this point. You’re on top of her, and she’s in your bed in your room and she isn’t sure she’s ever been happier to be in a girls bed.

Your hands come down, tugging at her t shirt before you pull her up a bit, pulling it off her body and tossing it somewhere in your bedroom, leaving her top half completely bare. She doesn’t care, she’d have you undress her any day. Your hands come down again, grabbing either one of hers that are rested firmly on your hips. You remove them, taking them both and holding them above her head, your hand keeping them bonded by her wrist. She doesn’t pay much mind to it, simply enjoying the feeling of your lips against hers.

Soon she’s getting antsy, and she groans as she fights against your grip. “Lemme touch you baby…need to feel you…” she groans against your mouth before she’s pushing her tongue back against yours. She feels you smirk against her lips before you sigh, one of your hands leaving her wrist for a moment, going to your back pocket and pulling something out. It’s dim in your room, the only lighting coming from the small lamp on your bedside table, so she can’t see much. All she does know, is soon she feels a soft, silky material running along her wrist that makes her shiver. She feels you tying something around her wrist, firmly creating a knot so she’s unable to move them even more so than when your hands were holding them.

She watches as you finally pull away from her, staring up at you as you straddle her waist. The look of confusion on her face makes you giggle, your hand coming down to gently trace the frown in her brows with a soft hum. “I told you, you needed to learn your lesson, Ellie….girls who treat other girls like you, don’t get things so easily…” you explain, your lips coming down to latch onto Ellie’s nipple, tongue swirling around the little bud and making the girl moan loudly as she arches her back, forcing more of her into your mouth.

You bite down onto it gently, making her whine softly before you let go of it with a pop, humming softly as your thumb comes down to flick her wet nipple from side to side for a moment before you move onto the other, giving it the same attention as the first.

“You think you can just come and go as you please…playing with me when it’s convenient for you…but that’s not how this works” you hum softly, every other word interrupted by a kiss as you make your way down Ellie’s body. She’s a moaning mess, wiggling and bucking her hips into you as she shakes her head eagerly. “That’s…that’s not it at all! I promise…fuck…I like you…I like you so much baby, you’re not like those other girls. I fucked up so bad with you, and I’m sorry” she pleads with you.

She’s only met with a soft hum as you undo her jeans, tugging them off and tossing them somewhere else in your room, sighing softly when you spot the damn spot on her panties. You’re settled between her legs now, thumb drawing small circles into her inner thighs as your other hand gently tugs her panties to the side.

“I know baby…I can’t give into you easily regardless though…you understand, don’t you?” You asked gently, watching her for a moment before you turn your attention back to her sopping wet cunt.

“Jesus Ellie…you’re so wet baby…this all for me?” You ask her gently, your finger coming down to gently rub her angry clit. This makes her moan loudly, the girls head tossing back as her hips grind into your touch, eager for more of what you’re giving her.

“Fuck…yeah…s’all for you baby…no one else” she breaths out, staring down at you with needy eyes as her hands tug at the restraints you have her tied up by.

You hum softly, nodding slowly as your fingers rub slow circles into her clit before you bring your face closer to where you knew she needed you most. “Poor thing…why don’t I help you out a bit, hm?” You question, spreading her legs further as you stare at her for a moment before you latch your lips onto her clit, sucking harshly.

The moan that rips through her chest is pornographic, the girls back arching almost painfully as she melts into the feeling for your tongue working on her clit.

“Fuck…that’s it…fuck don’t stop baby…doing so well for me” it’s almost comical how her dominating words make your stomach coil despite the clear power dynamic that you’ve set up between the two of you. You moan softly into her sopping wet cunt, tongue lapping up her juices as your hands squeeze her thighs, keeping them apart for you.

“Look so fuckin’ pretty down there baby…you don’t know how often I…fuck…think about you like this” she admitted with a whine, staring down at you as her hips rolled against you, the girl practically riding your face as you took whatever she gave you.

But that wouldn’t do, would it?

Ellie’s moans grew louder, her rhythm getting sloppy as she tugged at her restraints. She was babbling incoherently and you knew for a fact she was getting close.

“Come on baby…take it…fuckin’ take it” she whined, brows furrowing as she stared down at you, eyes never leaving the sight in front of her as she bit down on her bottom lip so hard she was sure to draw blood.

It was almost painful for you to break away from her, wanting desperately to make her cum on your tongue, but you knew you couldn’t give in so easily, not yet at least.

Ellie let’s put a pathetic whine when you pull away when she’s right at the cusp of falling over into the pool of her orgasm, hips bucking into nothing as she hides her face in her arm. “Fuck…why’d you stop I was…mm…I was so close” she whined as her hips rolled with need against the air, the poor thing searching for anything to give her the release she so desperately needed.

You hummed softly as you crawled up her body, finally giving Ellie the chance to see that you were still fully clothed and she was completely bare before you. She moaned softly when your legs came down to straddle her naked body, the girl staring up at you with needy eyes as you gave her a smirk, hair framing your face as you ran your fingers along her nipples before giving them a gentle pinch, earning a needy whine from the girl.

“You didn’t seriously think I’d give it to you that easily, did you?” You giggle softly before you hum, leaning down and catching Ellie’s lips in a messy kiss. She moans loudly against you as she tastes herself, her pussy fluttering around nothing as she welcomes your lips willingly.

She whines when you break the kiss, chasing your mouth which she fails miserably at due to the restraints.

“You’re a smart girl Ellie…use that big brain of yours” you hum out softly, your words only earning a whine from the girl beneath you.

You hum softly, leaning down and giving her one more kiss before you crawl off of her body. Ellie’s eyes never leave yours, watching as you slowly tug your tank top up and over your head, leaving your top half bare. You then work on your denim shorts, tugging them off with your panties and licking them to the side, leaving you bare just like Ellie.

She’s staring at you like a woman starved, eyes eating up every inch of your body as she licks and bites at her lips.

God she wish she could touch you.

“Untie me baby, lemme touch you…I’ll make you feel so good” she begs, tugging at the ribbon wrapped around her wrists as she watches you return to the bed, straddling her body. She has to bite back a moan at the feeling of your soft, naked body settling on top of hers. The feeling of your skin against hers alone is enough to make her cum.

“You hum softly as you shake your head, scooting back for a moment before you take Ellie’s right leg, tugging it up for a moment. You take the opportunity to settle your pussy right on top of here, letting her leg rest against your shoulder. You smirk softly as you reach down to rub her clit, hissing softly at how wet she still was.

“Stayed so wet for me baby…I know you’ll enjoy this” you tease the girl, disregarding her pleas of being cut from her restraints as you spread her lips, giving you the opportunity to press your clit right up against hers.

The feeling has Ellie’s words getting caught in her throat, because she’s no longer focused on g being cut loose. Now all she can think about is the feeling of your cunt sliding against hers.

“Fuck….feels so good baby…so fucking good” she whines out, eyes rolling back into her head as she watches the way your hips skillfully work against hers.

You moan with her, plump lips pressing along her calf as your own eyes flutter shut. You’re able to stop the act for a moment, simply enjoying the pleasure you got from riding Ellie’s pussy. One of your hands came down to pinch her nipple, which earns a loud, pathetic moan from Ellie.

“You’re so pretty when you’re not a bitch…prettiest girl ever” you moan softly, hips rolling against hers as you drive both of you closer to your orgasm.

Ellie nods eagerly at your words, accepting the compliment and the insult all in one. “M’so sorry baby…I’ll never do it again…I’ll treat you so good if you’ll let me..I fucking promise” she moans loudly, her own hips rolling to match your rhythm.

Her words make you moan loudly, because she’s practically begging for it, begging for you to give her a chance.

You weren’t sure you’d ever hear such words from Ellie.

“You get so stupid when you wanna cum…don’t you baby? Promising things you don’t mean” you whine out as you grip her thigh firmly, picking up the pace as you chase your orgasms.

Ellie shakes her head wildly, shaking her head as her green eyes go wide. “I’m not lying! I…fuck….baby I…I think I…” her words get chopped up by her moans. The pleasure is too much, and she feels tears prickling at her eyes as the feeling grows closer and closer. It’s overwhelming and Ellie is sure she’s never cried while getting fucked but she…she can’t handle this…it’s all…you’re too.

“I…fuck I love you!” She practically screams out as she cums hard against your pussy, her body shaking beneath you as she lets go completely.

You gasp loudly at her words, your own eyes going wide for a moment before it all slips away from you, your orgasm taking over as it forces your eyes to roll back in your head, your neck falling back as you ride your orgasm out against her, practically using the girl beneath you as you slowly grind against her to finish things out for the both of you.

You’re both breathing hard, the girl beneath you an absolute wreck. Ellie’s cheeks are flushed, her body covered in a thin layer of sweat as she stares up at you with hazy eyes, chest rising and falling as you both sit there in silence.

You struggle to catch your breath for a moment before you reach forward, a gentle whine leaving Ellie’s lips as your clit brushes against her sensitive one. You undo the knot on her wrists, finally giving her the opportunity to be free before you crawl off of her body, moving to lay down next to her.

The magnitude of what was said, what was done, fills the air of your room. It’s thick, and it almost makes it hard to breath as you both lay there for a moment. Ellie lays there with you, staring into your eyes as she cuddles into your pillow. You expected her to leave as she always does, this was your get back, and you were slowly accepting this being the end of it all once it was over.

But she never left.

“I meant it, you know” she finally breaks the silence, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. She licks her pink lips before she sighs softly.

“I know it’s fucking weird…and out of nowhere…but I think it’s sort of…always been there” she explains further, hating the lack of a response that comes from you as she pours her heart out once again.

Good things in life never came easy, and you were as good as they fucking came. Ellie should’ve known things couldn’t be handed to her so easily when it came to you

“I get it…if you don’t want to take things further with me. It’s weird how I’ve gone about things, and I don’t blame you for not wanting me-“ she doesn’t expect to be cut off by the feeling of your soft lips. If she was being completely honest, she didn’t think she’d ever feel your lips against after tonight.

Yet here you were, kissing her.

She doesn’t take long to return it, her tattooed hand coming down and tugging your waist closer so your body is pressed against hers. Her hand comes down to tug at your thigh, pulling it over your body to keep you even closer.

“It’ll be weird…but not being with you is gonna be even weirder” you explain with a soft sigh before you finally pull away, staring at her with your brows furrows gently.

“You’re gonna do everything you can to make it up to me though…for being so mean” you tease her, and Ellie is nodding eagerly at that. “Whatever you want. Seriously” she urges. Her eagerness makes you giggle.

You sigh out softly as you tug your plush blankets over your bodies, pulling the girl down and pressing her face against your chest. She lets out a sigh of relief at the gesture, her entire body relaxing more than it has probably the entire summer.

All of this just felt so…right.

Ellie feels herself drifting off to sleep, eyes growing heavier and heavier with each passing second.

“Ellie?” Your voice is soft and quiet, tugging the girl between sleep and wake as she gives a small hum of response.

“I love you too…” you whisper softly, barely loud enough for hear, but she does regardless.

It’s when she hears that, that Ellie knows despite all the bullshit she’d caused….

It was all worth it

[ellieismybbg]

anyway i’m still mad abby isn’t buff as fuck

[ellieismybbg]

SPEAK!

dbf ellabs x reader except they didn't meet when reader was a minor AND reader doesn't act like a fucking child

[ellieismybbg]

they are serving jesusjudas realness

[ellieismybbg]

⭒࿐COLLIDE - c. two

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credits for the fanart: nramvv - edited by me

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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐖𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄

𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄.

← 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑛𝑒 | 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 | 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒 →

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⚢ pairing: Rockstar!Ellie Williams x Popstar!Reader 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ synopsis: One TMZ headline later, and the internet is in a full-blown meltdown. You should’ve known that sneaking out of Ellie Williams’ hotel at sunrise was a disaster waiting to happen. Now the whole world thinks you and Ellie are dating, and there’s only one way out—lean into the chaos. A fake relationship was never part of the plan, but if anyone can pull it of, it’s the two of you… right? 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ word count: 6,8k 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ content: unserious and chaotic as HELL lmao, fake dating, mostly dialogue, memes and brainrot stuff, LOTS of cursing, pet names, fluff if you squint, use of y/n, modern au, smoking weed, mention of cigarettes, alcohol and drugs, afab!reader, multiple part series, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated 𖥔 ݁ ˖

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TMZ EXCLUSIVE: Y/N’s MYSTERIOUS WALK OF SHAME… STRAIGHT OUT OF ELLIE WILLIAMS’ HOTEL? 👀🔥

Los Angeles, CA – Buckle up, internet, because today’s tea is so hot it might spontaneously combust. Early this morning, global pop sensation y/n was spotted making a very interesting exit from The Four Seasons—an exit that screamed, “I made some choices, and I’ll be dealing with the consequences (happily) later.”

Let’s paint the picture: baggy jeans (very much not hers), an oversized tee (suspiciously familiar), last-night heels, and, most importantly, the kind of walk that suggests she just lived through an... experience.🔥

VIDEO ATTACHED: y/n stepping out of The Four Seasons with the posture of someone who just discovered new life-altering truths about herself.

And now, the cherry on top? The hotel in question just happens to be the same one where rock’s reigning heartbreaker and The Fireflies' frontwoman, Ellie Williams, has been staying during the band's sold-out tour.

Yeah. Let THAT sink in.

THE NIGHT BEFORE: PURE CHAOS

Last night, the musicians were first spotted together at a private club in West Hollywood, and the energy? Dangerous. We’re talking intense eye contact, whispered words, and a proximity that had no business being that close. 👀

Sources inside the club (who, let’s be real, were probably staring way too hard) claim the two were “all over each other the entire night.” And then, like clockwork—both gone. Together.😏

PICTURE ATTACHED: y/n and Ellie at the bar, drinks in hand, leaning in so close they might as well be sharing oxygen.

Fast-forward a few hours, and one of them is leaving a luxury hotel in borrowed clothes, while the other is nowhere to be seen. Hm...

THE INTERNET: INSTANTLY UNHINGED

It’s not every day that the two of the most famous artists on the planet accidentally break the internet with a single walk of shame. It took exactly 0.2 seconds for Twitter—sorry, X—to collectively lose its mind. #YNxEllie shot to the top of the trending list faster than lighting, and the reactions? Pure, unfiltered, internet gold.

Some fans are calling it the rock-pop crossover event of the decade. Others are in full denial, muttering “it’s just a one-time thing” like a prayer (lol, sure). And then there’s the fanfic writers, who are already on their second chapter about this very moment.

Meanwhile, our two leads? Radio. Silence.

No wry Instagram stories. No cryptic tweets. No emergency PR statements. Just Ellie, cool as ever, casually liking a meme about getting your clothes stolen from “the girl you spent all night ruining.” 😭🙃

SO, WHAT HAPPENS NOW?

We wait. Impatiently.

Is this just an iconic but questionable decision? Will y/n post a cryptic thirst trap in retaliation? Will Ellie respond with an even more cryptic Instagram story? Or are we witnessing the birth of music’s next power couple?

One thing’s for sure—this is a story we’ll be watching very closely.

Stay tuned. 😏🔥

What do YOU think? Drop your theories in the comments below! ⬇️🔥

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@: this isn’t just a hookup. this is the lesbians Super Bowl. 

@: tears in my eyes. full body worship. standing ovulation. whatever it’s called.

@: “mysterious walk of shame” NAH SHE CLOCKED IN, DID OVERTIME, AND LEFT WITH A RAISE 💀

@: not her texting the driver like “can’t feel my legs send help” 😭 icon.

@: someone check on the poor girl ellie this wasn’t a leave her paralyzed challenge

@: THE SECOND PIC. YALL. THEY LOOK SO GODDAMN FINE I’M CHEWING DRYWALL AND DRINKING THE DUST 😩

@: i need them to either hard launch or drop a sex tape at this point because my soul is restless

@: this is the most lesbian thing I’ve ever seen and I was THERE for korrasami and caitvi.

@: i just KNOW Ellie’s strap game goes absolutely feral and that walk was all the proof I needed #cravethat #scientificallyproven

@: pop mother got her back blown OUT

@: #elliehititrawandnowshestrending

@: they are either deeply in love or just HORRENDOUS at sneaky links. either way, I win.

@: tmz trynna act like we don’t instantly recognize Ellie’s entire wardrobe on her lmao

@: she defo picked those on purpose and you can't convince me otherwiseeee

@: the way we all clocked those clothes immediately like homegirl has worn that same fit 67 times this year and counting

@: Ellie dresses like a divorced dad at Home Depot but somehow y/n wearing her clothes is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen

@: one-night thing my ass. drop the collab album. drop the wedding invites. drop the baby name.

@: I have no idea what's going on but I support them!

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The studio is cold. Too cold.

You lean against the massive soundboard, eyes heavy with exhaustion as the producer fine-tunes the levels on your latest track. The bass hums through the speakers, deep and rhythmic.

You got home, showered, and walked into the studio like nothing happened. Like you weren’t still replaying everything in your head—the heat of her hands, the weight of her body, the way she— Nope. Not going there.

The only thing keeping you upright is sheer force of will and the coffee clutched in your hands, now lukewarm but still packing enough caffeine to keep your legs from betraying you in front of the expensive equipment.

But something feels off.

Nobody is looking at you.

Nobody is saying anything.

The thing is, your team is never quiet. They talk about everything—schedules, brand deals, what the fuck you’re eating for lunch—but today? Nothing. Just silence.

Not a single offhand comment. No teasing about the all-nighter you clearly pulled. Not even a glance in your direction.

Your producer is laser-focused on the track, nodding along like it holds the meaning of life. Your sound editor keeps his eyes glued to the screen, like looking anywhere else might kill him. And your assistant—sweet, terrible liar that she is—won’t stop sneaking glances at her phone, then at you, then at her phone again, like she’s watching a train wreck in real time and trying to figure out when to break the news that you’re the train.

Slowly, you set your coffee down, reach for your own phone, and unlock it, already feeling the creeping dread claw up your spine.

The second your screen lights up, it’s over. Notifications flood in. X. Instagram. Texts. Group chats blowing up like a damn stock market crash. Millions of mentions. Your name trending in bold, blaring letters.

And then you see it.

TMZ EXCLUSIVE: Y/N'S MYSTERIOUS WALK OF SHAME… STRAIGHT OUT OF ELLIE WILLIAMS’ HOTEL? 👀🔥

You suck in a breath—a sharp, audible gasp that cuts through the eerie silence.

Your assistant makes a tiny, distressed sound. Your producer visibly flinches, finally daring to glance at you. Your sound editor—wise, blessedly silent—just pauses the track.

Your fingers move faster than your brain, scrolling in blind panic. Pictures. Too many fucking pictures.

The first one is a grainy, low-lit shot of you and Ellie at the bar—bodies too close, drinks in hand, faces inches apart. The kind of tension that crackles even through a shitty phone camera. The next? A ruthless side-by-side comparison of Ellie’s Instagram post from last week. Same shirt. Same jeans. The exact ones you walked out wearing.

And then—because the universe is a cruel, twisted place—the final nail in the coffin.

A video.

Of you.

Sneaking out of her hotel.

You hit play, and instantly regret every life choice that led you there. Because why the fuck were you walking like that?!

Not just suspicious. Not just guilty. But the kind of unsteady, post-life-changing-experience walk that has the entire internet foaming at the mouth, legs barely cooperating like you just left the scene of a particularly intense crime.

Your soul exits your body, ascends to the ceiling, and refuses to come back down.

Your phone starts ringing. And you already know who it is. For a brief, fleeting moment, you consider launching the damn thing across the room.

Because of course it’s Rachel.

Your manager and professional-life mastermind. The woman who negotiates your million-dollar deals before breakfast. And, apparently, the bane of your existence right now.

You push through the studio doors without explaining a damn thing, the cool air outside hitting your face like a slap. Your head is pounding, fingers digging into your temples like you can physically massage the embarrassment out of your skull.

Your phone still vibrates in your hand. You don’t even have time to brace yourself before answering. The second you do, her voice explodes through the speaker.

“OH. MY. GOD.”

You flinch, yanking the phone away from your ear like it might physically protect you. It doesn’t. She’s still yelling, still fully spiraling, and honestly? She has every right to. Because you’re trending. Hard.

And not for your music.

“Before you say anything—”

“ARE YOU SEEING THIS? My phone has been BLOWING UP since 6 AM. Do you understand what you’ve done?!”

You sigh, shifting uncomfortably. Here we fucking go.

“Rachel, I’m so fucking sorry, I never meant for that to happen I didn’t know there were paparazzi outside the hotel! I—”

“THIS IS PERFECT.”

“—know I fucked up”

You pause mid-spiral. Blink. “...Wait, what?”

“You heard me! This is GOLD. This is EVERYTHING. Your fans are losing their minds, the internet is eating this up, and you know what that means?”

“…That I need to delete my existence?”

“That this is going to take both of your careers to the next level.”

Your head is spinning. “Whoa—slow down. The fuck you mean?”

Rachel lets out an exaggerated sigh, like she’s explaining shapes to a toddler. “You need to be interesting. She needs damage control. You both need the press for the upcoming albums. This relationship is everything you need.”

“Relationship?” You nearly choke. “Rachel, we just hooked up. It was a one-time thing, nothing else.”

“Oh... just a one-time thing?”

“Yes!”

“Okay.”

She says it so casually you instantly know she’s about to ruin your life.

“Then fake it.”

“WHAT?”

Your soul leaves your body. Again.

“A fake relationship!” She repeats, like it’s the most normal suggestion in the world.

“Oh my god. No. NO. That’s—that’s fucking stupid!"

“Oh, come on, girl.” Rachel groans. “You would be shocked to know how many celebrity couples are fake. Like, 90% of them, and people still eat that shit up like it’s their job. It’s the most effective PR stunt in the history of PR stunts.”

“I don't care! Even if it’s fake, I don’t wanna be in a relationship with her!”

Rachel, clearly unimpressed “Be so fucking for real right now.”

“Listen” she continues, slipping into full Hollywood mastermind mode. “It’s the perfect rockstar-popstar trope that people are gonna LOVE. Some staged dates, some Instagram stories, show up to a few award shows together, write some songs about her for the album—blah, blah, blah. Then, when you both get what you want, you drop a statement about breaking up on good terms because of ‘busy schedules’ or ‘long distance’ or whatever. Boom. Done. Headlines. History.”

You exhale sharply, dragging a hand down your face, but you can already feel her words getting to you.

“Okay…that does sound kinda iconic...”

You hear her scream.

“BUT” You snap. “I seriously doubt she’s gonna be on board.”

“She has to be. That girl needs to clean up her image immediately. If she wants to keep her career afloat, she needs to say yes." Rachel doesn’t miss a beat. "Honestly, it even benefits her more than it benefits you.”

You press the phone tighter against your ear, your free hand rubbing over your face over and over again as if that’ll somehow erase this chaos unfolding in real-time.

But honestly?

What could go wrong?

So you exhale sharply again.

“Fine, fine. We’ll… debate it.”

“PERFECT! Tell me how it goes!”

There’s a short pause, just long enough for you to think—maybe—this conversation is about to take a serious turn.

And then—

“…So, how was she in bed?”

You nearly drop your phone. “RACHEL.”

“What?! It’s a valid question! I mean, I saw the walk.” A beat. Then, way too smugly “People are even making edits of your limp.”

Okay.

This is officially the worst day of your life.

“We are NOT doing this.”

“Oh, we are ABSOLUTELY doing this.”

You groan, squeezing your eyes shut. There's no escaping this.

“Was it life-changing or life-threatening? Did she break your back or fix your scoliosis?” 

You stare up at the sky, silently begging for divine intervention. None comes. So, with the weight of someone who has lost everything, you exhale.

“…she made me see fucking Jesus.”

Silence. A beat.

Rachel screams so loud you nearly throw your phone at the window.

“I FUCKING KNEW IT.”

“HANGING UP NOW.”

“NO WAIT!—DID SHE—”

“BYE.”

You slam the End Call button so fast it’s a miracle your screen doesn’t crack.

Blissful, beautiful silence.

For exactly three seconds.

Buzz.

Rachel: COME BACK WE ARE NOT DONE.

Buzz.

Rachel: do I schedule a chiropractor or a priest? 😭

You turn your phone off. Permanently.

────────────

It was late, the kind of night where the city hummed low in the background, neon signs bleeding color into the streets.

And Ellie Williams was trying to have a normal band practice.

Trying.

But it was pretty fucking hard when Jesse and Dina were staring at her like she’d just announced she was quitting music to become a full-time televangelist.

She adjusted the strap of her guitar, already irritated. “Can you guys, I don’t know, say something instead of fucking looking at me like that?”

“Oh, we’re just waiting...” Jesse said as he leaned against the drum set, taking a slow drag of his cigarette and grinning like the absolute menace he was.

Dina, perched on an amp, smirked. “Yeah. Just giving you a chance to come clean before we bring out the receipts.”

Ellie scoffed, trying to play it cool. “What receipts?”

Dina wiggled her phone in the air, smirk widening. “Seems like you’ve been very busy, rockstar.”

She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “The fuck are you both talking about!?”

Jesse and Dina exchanged the look. The kind that made Ellie’s patience thin by the second.

Jesse sighed dramatically, putting out his cigarette on the plato like he was about to drop the biggest bombshell of the century. “Alright, since you’re playing dumb—”

He pulled out his phone with the enthusiasm of a man whose sole purpose in life was witnessing Ellie’s downfall. 

“Lemme just read the best part real quick—” And clearing his throat like he was about to give a Shakespearean performance:

“‘Global superstar y/n was spotted leaving Ellie Williams’s hotel early this morning after a rumored all-night rendezvous. Fans immediately noticed the pop star's unusually relaxed wardrobe choice—’”

Dina whistled. “‘—baggy jeans and an oversized tee, both belonging to a certain someone who was seen wearing them just last week—’”

Jesse shook his head, flipping his phone around. “Nah, this is crazy. This is some Oscar-worthy shit.”

Ellie groaned the second she saw the TMZ photo—you stepping out of the hotel in her clothes. And then there was her, leaving an hour later, hoodie up like it could shield her from literally everyone, rubbing the back of her neck like some dumbass who just realized they fucked up in a romcom.

She looked guilty as hell.

He zoomed in on her face, laughing. “Yo, you look like you just realized you caught feelings.”

Dina snorted, scrolling through her phone. “Oh, they are EATING this shit up. Listen to this” —dramatic inhale— “‘They are either deeply in love or just horrendous at sneaky links. Either way, I win.’”

Jesse howled. “‘Someone check on the poor girl—Ellie, this wasn’t a ‘leave her paralyzed’ challenge.’”

Ellie groaned. “You guys—”

“OH MY GOD.” Dina gasped. “SOMEONE JUST MADE A SIDE-BY-SIDE.”

Jesse leaned in. “Caption?”

“‘WHAT IN THE SCISSOR OLYMPICS. GOLD MEDAL PERFORMANCE.”

He collapsed against the drum set, howling even harder. “Nah, this is crazy. You really let her walk outta there like that?! You KNEW what you did. You knew EXACTLY what you were doing.”

Ellie covered her face with her hands. “I hate it here.”

Jesse was thriving, nearly bouncing on his feet like a kid on Christmas morning. “Dude. You bagged y/n. Like, THE Y/N. Pop princess herself. That fine-ass woman writes songs so good they make people crash their cars.”

Dina nodded solemnly. “I crashed twice to ‘Stay.’”

Ellie shot her a look. “First of all, you shouldn’t have a license.” Then at Jesse “Second, can you fucking NOT? We just hooked up. That’s it.”

He just snorted. “Yeah? Tell that to the 40 million people who liked the tweets about it.”

Ellie groaned so loud it could’ve been mistaken for a death rattle. “This is so fucking bad.”

Jesse ignored her, grinning like an absolute menace. “Like, do you even understand the cultural impact of what you’ve done? This is like—” He gestured wildly. “—punk rock meets Billboard Hot 100 hookup of the century!”

Dina smirked. “And judging by the way she was walking? You bodied that shit.”

Ellie scowled. “She was wearing heels all night!”

Dina arched a brow. “So were you gonna say that, or are you just making that up now?”

Ellie opened her mouth. Closed it. Dragged a hand down her face.

Jesse cackled. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

She was this close to walking out.

Then, like a gift from hell, her phone started buzzing.

Your name flashed across the screen. Gasps.

Ellie panicked, immediately shoving it in her pocket.

Dina’s jaw dropped. “Did you just—DECLINE Y/N?! Are you fucking STUPID?!”

Jesse shook his head, dead serious. “No, no. Let her cook. Maybe she’s playing hard to get.”

Ellie groaned, yanking her jacket off the chair and making her way to the door. “Practice over. I hope both of you trip over a flight of stairs and eat shit all the way down.”

“Aw, so sweet of you!” Dina beamed. “We’re gonna start picking baby names as soon as you leave.”

Ellie didn’t even look back—just flipped them off on her way out like a parting gift.

The door slammed shut loudly.

A beat of silence.

Then, muffled through the wall—

“AND JESSE STOP SAYING LET HER COOK THE MEME DIED MONTHS AGO.”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP NO IT DIDN’T!”

────────────

Ellie had barely stepped out of the studio, muttering “Fucking kill me” before calling you back. As soon as you answered, she was quick to be the first one to talk.

“Before you say anything—this is not my fault.”

Your voice came through immediately. 

“Ellie.”

Tone flat. Dead serious.

She hesitated. “…Yeah?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Ellie stopped dead in her tracks. Like, full-body malfunction.

Her entire fucking life flashed before her eyes. Marriage. A house. A tiny baby wrapped in a flannel onesie. Joel crying at the babyshower. Dina and Jesse as the weirdly invested godparents.

Silence.

Then—

“Oh, fuck off!”

You howled with laughter. “Not even a little panic? All I got was a one-second existential crisis?”

“Dude. Biology exists.”

Though, if she was being honest, you had her for a solid half-second. She could already hear Joel clearing his throat, preparing for his father-of-the-bride speech, could already see Jesse and Dina clicking through a PowerPoint titled "Ellie Williams: Accidentally Domesticated—A case study."

You scoffed “See, this is why you’re no fun.”

“This is why you're deranged.”

“You love it.”

“No. You need therapy.”

“I have therapy. On Thursdays. Shoutout to Linda.”

Ellie pinched the bridge of her nose. “Did you actually need something, or was this just a drive-by psychological attack?”

“Oh, you know. Just the minor issue that the entire fucking internet thinks we’re dating?”

Ellie groaned, unlocking her car with a beep. “Technically, we could just ignore it—”

“Ellie.”

“…Yeah, yeah. What’s the damage?”

“Well” you started, voice syrupy sweet, “Not only do I look like I did the world’s sluttiest walk of shame, but people also figured out those were your clothes. And, fun fact! They say you dress like a divorced dad from Home Depot.”

“Yeah, I saw.”

“No, I don’t think you understand the severity of it.” Your voice got increasingly dramatic. “People have shipping spreadsheets. They have theories. Someone made a Google doc analyzing our astrology compatibility. Ellie, we are trending #1 WORLDWIDE.”

Ellie ran a hand down her face. “This is so fucking stupid.”

“Someone said—direct quote— that this is ‘the lesbian's Super Bowl.' ”

She paused. “That one might be true tho.”

“Oh, cut the bullshit.”

Ellie grinned, leaning back. “Alright, so what’s the move? Damage control?”

A pause. 

“Well…” you said, voice a little too careful, “my manager thinks we should… lean into it.”

Ellie’s eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”

Another pause.

Then, your voice, even softer now. “Can we… talk in person?”

Ellie immediately clocked the hesitation. “Why do I feel like I’m 'bout to get scammed?”

“You’re not! I just… I’d rather explain in person.”

She exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “…Fine. Where?”

“My place.”

Ellie frowned. “Why yours?”

“Because there’s paparazzi crammed outside the Four Seasons, dumbass.”

…Fair.

She exhaled. “…Yeah. Alright.”

“Cool. I’ll send you the address.”

A beat. Then—

“…Wait” Ellie muttered. “How the fuck did you get my number?”

Silence.

“…Contacts.”

Ellie’s brows furrowed. “What does that mean? Who—”

“Doesn’t matter.” you cut in, then cleared your throat. “Anyway. Can you, uh… give me my dress back? It was custom.”

“Yeah, about that…”

“…Ellie.”

“It might still be on the floor.”

A sharp inhale. “You little shit.”

Ellie smirked as she pulled out of the parking lot.

“On my way, pop star.”

──────────── Ellie had barely knocked twice before the door swung open.

And there you were.

Standing in the dim light of your penthouse, arms crossed, drowning in an oversized hoodie and sweatpants. Your hair was slightly messy, like you’d been curled up somewhere before she got here, and your skin glowed just right under the soft, golden hue of your apartment lights.

“Hey”

“Hey”

She exhaled, stepping inside as you shut the door behind her. She barely had time to take in the space before she realized—this was money.

The penthouse stretched wide, the kind of design meant to make people feel small. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the city skyline, headlights cutting through the night far below. The furniture was sleek, modern—gray couches, glass tables, designer pieces that looked both expensive and comfortable. A grand piano sat near the window, it's lid closed and a guitar leaning against it, used enough to make Ellie smirk.

But it was the small things that caught her eye. A candle burning low on the counter. A glass of wine next to a notebook cracked open on the coffee table, filled with lyrics. Scribbled, messy. Some lines scratched out, others rewritten in the margins.

“Jesus” she muttered, shoving her hands into her pockets. “Could’ve warned me I was walking into a fucking palace.”

“Says the millionaire.”

Her eyes flicked to you—leaning against the counter, arms crossed, mouth twitching like you were amused by her reaction.

She huffed.

“So.”

“So.”

The silence stretched, just a little too thick. A weight neither of you wanted to touch.

Then, finally, you exhaled.

“My manager thinks we should fake date.”

Ellie snorted “Yeah, no shit.”

“She says it’ll be good for both of us.”

She hummed, sauntering over to the couch before sinking into it like she owned the place. Her legs spread wide, hands rubbing over her jeans, shoulders sinking into the cushions. She looked up at you, unreadable.

“And? You wanna do it?”

You hesitated. “I don’t know.”  Your fingers tapped against the counter, your teeth dragged over your bottom lip. You looked… conflicted. “It’s just—ugh. The thought of staging something like this is so gross.”

You exhaled, tilting your head back. “Pretending to be into you in public? It just feels—”

A beat.

Ellie raised an eyebrow.

You hesitated.

And there it was. The shift.

“Pretending?” she repeated slowly.

You scowled. “You know what I mean.”

Ellie tilted her head, gaze flicking downward—brief, barely there—before dragging right back up like she knew exactly what she was doing. 

“Do I?”

Your skin flushed, irritation prickling down your spine. She was too comfortable—slouched on your couch like it was hers, fingers drumming against her knee, wearing that look. That lazy, lopsided smirk that made your stomach clench and your heart do backflips.

You muttered. "Cut the bullshit."

Ellie watched you, green eyes sharp, the corner of her mouth curling like she already knew what you were thinking—like she could see straight through you. And maybe she could.

That was the problem.

Because this wasn’t just some business deal, some harmless PR stunt. 

This was Ellie fucking Williams. 

A menace. A woman who flirted like it was her second nature. Who carried herself with the kind of reckless confidence that made people love her and hate her in the same breath. She was sharp, fast-mouthed, and annoyingly charming when she wanted to be. She kissed like she had something to prove and fucked like she knew she was amazing at it. 

She was the kind that didn’t just leave bruises—that left marks.

And now, you are supposed to pretend to be hers. In public. In pictures. In interviews. She’d make it look effortless, like every lingering touch and stolen glance meant everything.

Meanwhile, you’d have to grit your teeth and pretend she wasn’t already under your skin—pretend you don’t know exactly how this will end.

Ellie’s voice pulled you back.

“We can set rules.”

You blinked, exhaling sharply. “Rules?”

She nodded, resting her elbows on her knees. “Yeah. Lines we don’t cross. Shit we don’t do. Make it easier.”

You considered that. It did make sense. Setting boundaries meant this wouldn’t spiral into a complete disaster—just a controlled one.

“…Fine.”

Ellie grinned, tilting her head. “Great. Rule number one—no catching feelings.”

You scoffed, pushing off the counter and taking a sip of your wine. “Oh, trust me, Williams, that was never a problem.”

What a goddamn lie.

Ellie chuckled, dragging a hand over her jaw before settling back into the couch. She watched you a second too long, eyes flicking over you like she was deciding whether to call you on your bullshit. That fucking grin still lingered—lazy, amused. 

She was enjoying this.

You exhaled slowly, setting your wine glass down with a quiet clink. “I got my own rules.”

“Let’s hear ‘em.”

You leveled her with a look. “No strings attached.”

Ellie blinked, then snorted. “Starting off strong.”

“I’m serious,” you said, arms crossing. “No getting weird about anything. We do what we have to do in public, but behind closed doors, it’s our business. No jealousy, no possessiveness.”

Ellie tilted her head, her smirk growing. “So basically, we can do whatever we want?”

You hesitated.

A fraction of a second too long.

Then nodded. “Yeah.”

There was a shift in the air. Subtle, almost imperceptible, but there. Ellie’s eyes dragged over you—slow, measured, her expression unreadable.

“…Can we still fuck, though?”

Your face didn’t waver, but your stomach clenched, a tiny, unwelcome knot forming deep in your gut.

“Yeah. But it doesn’t mean anything.”

The words landed firm, like a line drawn in the sand, but even as you said them, they felt a little off. Like something rehearsed, something you were trying a little too hard to believe.

Ellie let out a low chuckle, shaking her head. “Jesus, babe. You’re ruthless.”

“You got a problem with that?”

“Not even a little.” She stretched out, arms draping over the back of the couch, looking maddeningly at ease. “Just didn’t expect you to be the one setting that rule.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue, because deep down, you weren’t sure what would piss you off more—her calling you out on your bullshit, or the fact that she might actually be right.

Ellie hummed. “Fine. No strings attached. What else?”

You rubbed your temple, thinking. “Public stuff needs to be controlled. If we’re going to be seen together, it needs to be intentional.”

Ellie nodded. “So, no sneaky paparazzi pics of us at, like, McDonald’s?”

“Exactly.”

“There goes my dream of getting papped in the drive-thru with you.”

You ignored that. “Next—if one of us wants out, we end it. No bullshit.”

Ellie’s smirk softened slightly. “Fair enough.”

The mood had shifted—just a fraction. You weren’t sure if that was a good thing or a warning sign, but at least your shoulders didn’t feel as tight anymore.

You reached for your wine again. “We also need a reason.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow.

“For why we’re suddenly together,” you clarified.

She considered it for a moment, then shrugged. “Easy. We met through mutual friends, started talking, made it official recently.”

You nodded. “Good. Vague, but believable.”

Then Ellie grinned. “So when’s our anniversary?”

“I’m breaking up with you already.”

Ellie threw her head back, laughing. “Damn. Cold as hell.”

You just smirked, watching the wine swirl in your glass, but the humor faded when Ellie leaned forward slightly, her gaze a little sharper now.

“So, just to recap,” she said, voice steady. “No feelings. No jealousy. We can fuck, but it doesn't mean anything. And if one of us wants out, we’re out.”

“…Yeah.” You swallowed, the weight of it settling between you both. “...Are you actually okay with this?”

Ellie leaned back into the couch, dragging a hand over her jaw.

Was she?

She’d done PR stunts before—appearances, interviews, the occasional fake chemistry for cameras. But a fake relationship? That was a different level of commitment. A different level of risk.

At the same time… she wasn’t exactly in a position to say no. She needed something to get the media off her ass. Headlines about bar fights, reckless behavior, and being a bad influence were piling up like a rap sheet. A carefully controlled narrative—a shiny, clean distraction—might be the only thing that kept her from burning out entirely.

But then…

She looked at you.

Drop-dead gorgeous. Smart as hell. Sharp tongue. A little mean in a way that made people want to prove themselves.

And yeah, sure—this was fake. But Ellie wasn’t fucking stupid. Fake or not, this was the kind of shit that got under her skin, settled in deep and refused to leave.

She’d made plenty of bad decisions before, walked into things knowing exactly how they would end, knowing they’d chew her up and spit her out. That was the thing about trouble. It never felt like trouble in the moment. It started as a game, as a deal, as something simple—until one day, it wasn’t. Until it had its teeth in her, until she was in too deep to pretend she didn’t care.

And this?

This had all the makings of that kind of mistake.

But she still exhaled, still ran a hand through her hair, still met your eyes without hesitation.

“Yeah” She sighed “I’m in.”

“Alright,” you murmured, swirling the wine in your glass before taking a slow sip. Then, with a smirk just shy of reckless—

“This is officially the worst decision of our lives.”

Ellie leaned back like she had all the time in the world, legs spreading wider, her grin all sharp edges. “What you mean? This is already the most stable relationship I’ve ever had.”

You scoffed, reaching for your wine again. “That’s not exactly comforting.”

Ellie shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, babe. The bar is in hell.”

You closed your eyes for a second, exhaled, then took another long drink. “God help me.”

After a few minutes, Ellie reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out a pre-rolled blunt, twirling it lazily between her fingers. She glanced up at you, a grin tugging at the corner of her lips.

“You smoke?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Ellie shrugged, biting the tip of the blunt. “What? It’s part of the rockstar lifestyle.”

You scoffed. “And I’m the popstar, so technically, I should be saying no.”

Ellie pulled out a lighter, flicking it open with a metallic click. “Live a little.”

You exhaled. “Fine. But if TMZ catches me high, I’m blaming you.”

Ellie grinned, bringing the lighter to the tip of the blunt, the paper curling as it burned. She took a slow, practiced drag, holding it deep in her lungs before exhaling smoothly, the smoke swirling toward the ceiling. Then she passed it to you.

You hesitated for a half-second before bringing it to your lips, inhaling. The burn was familiar, settling in your chest before you exhaled, watching the smoke dissipate into the dimly lit room.

Already, the tension from earlier—the ridiculous fake-dating rules, the push and pull of whatever this was—started to fade into something looser, easier.

Ellie watched you, her smirk deepening. “Damn. You’re not new to this.”

You took another hit before passing it back, lips quirking. “Told you. I just have a better PR team than you.”

Ellie chuckled, shaking her head as she took another drag.

Somehow, the conversation had spiraled.

You were both slumped against the couch, trading the last remnants of the blunt back and forth, locked in a heated debate over whether or not you’d survive a zombie apocalypse.

Ellie scoffed, waving a lazy hand. “C’mon, you wouldn’t last a week.”

“Excuse me?” You sat up, pointing at her. “I would absolutely outlive you.”

“You literally have, like, five personal assistants. You don’t even carry your own bags.”

“So? That doesn’t mean I can’t fight!”

Ellie raised an eyebrow, amused. “Alright. How would you kill a zombie?”

You blinked. “...Guns?”

Ellie groaned, shaking her head like you had just personally offended her. 

“What?!”

“You’d run out of ammo in, like, a week.”

You crossed your arms. “Okay, smartass. What’s your genius survival plan?”

“Baseball bat. Blunt force trauma. Reusable, no reload time.”

You wrinkled your nose. “That’s so gross.”

Ellie shrugged. “Yeah? So is dying.”

You huffed, sinking back into the couch. “I’m sure that if I were in a zombie apocalypse, I’d be the immune one.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, flicking the blunt towards the ashtray. “Oh, shut up. I'd be the immune one. And the main character.”

You huffed, dramatically flopping back against the couch, exhaling a long, exaggerated sigh. Ellie grinned, stretching her arms behind her head.

“All that contract negotiation made me hungry.”

You snorted, swirling the last sip of wine in your glass. “You literally agreed to everything in under five minutes.”

“Exactly,” Ellie sighed. “Exhausting.”

She pulled out her phone, scrolling. “What’s the most unserious meal we could possibly order right now?”

You barely had to think. “Taco Bell.”

Ellie’s face lit up. “God, I fucking love you.”

You shot her a dry look.

“Platonically. Obviously.”

You rolled your eyes, watching as she tapped aggressively on the app. “What do you want?”

“Crunchwrap Supreme, two Doritos Locos Tacos, and a Baja Blast.”

Ellie blinked. “You didn’t even hesitate.”

“I take my Taco Bell order very seriously.”

Ellie hummed approvingly. “Respect.” She added your order to the already absurd amount of food in her cart and checked out.

By the time the Taco Bell arrived, you were both fully slumped into the couch, heavy-limbed and loose from the high. Ellie tossed the bag onto the coffee table with zero grace, nearly knocking over your very expensive candle.

“Jesus, be careful” you muttered, steadying it.

Ellie unwrapped her burrito with a crinkle of foil, smirking. “What, scared I’ll ruin your rich-person aesthetic?”

You leaned back, exhaling. “Yeah, actually. I have a brand to uphold.”

Ellie huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head as she took a bite. The two of you ate in a comfortable lull, the only sounds coming from the low hum of music playing from your speaker and the occasional rustle of food wrappers.

In that moment, you felt something you hadn’t felt with anyone in a long time—at ease. Because being with her was effortless.

No need to pose, fake a smile, or worry if your hair was in place. You could just exist. And there was something dangerously comfortable about that, something weirdly domestic. Like slipping into a rhythm you hadn’t even realized you’d been craving.

Ellie spoke suddenly, pulling you back, like the thought had just slipped out before she could decide if it was worth saying.

“So, why’d you start doing music?”

The question landed between you like a weight, unexpected and heavy.

You paused, mid-bite, blinking at her. She wasn’t even looking at you—just lazily pulling apart her quesadilla, like she hadn’t just cracked open something raw and unplanned.

You swallowed, shifting slightly. “I don’t know.”

A beat.

“It’s the only thing I was ever really good at.”

That got her attention. Her fingers stilled against the tortilla, her eyes flicking up—steady, unreadable.

With a quiet sigh, you set your food down. “I mean, growing up, I sucked at everything else. School, sports, whatever—I just never stuck with anything. But music?” You tilted your head, feeling the thought click into place. “That made sense. I liked how it made people feel. You write something, and suddenly, some stranger out there feels understood in a way they didn’t before. Like, for three minutes, they’re not alone.”

Ellie’s chewing slowed, her gaze lingering. “Yeah.” Her voice had dropped, more thoughtful. “That’s kinda the whole point, huh?”

You hummed, watching her. “…What about you?”

She hesitated, then leaned back into the couch, stretching like she was trying to shake something off. “Not that different, honestly.” One arm draped over the backrest, fingers tapping idly against the cushion. “Joel was always into music. Taught me how to play guitar when I was a kid, and it just kinda stuck ever since.”

Your head tilted slightly. “Joel Miller? That’s your dad, right?”

A nod. “Yeah. He’s—” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “—intense. But in a good way, mostly. He gives a shit. Probably more than I deserve.”

Your brows knitted together. “That’s a weird thing to say.”

Ellie let out a quiet chuckle, but it was dry, almost automatic. “Nah. Just being honest.”

Something about the way she said it made your chest feel tight.

You thought about pushing, about pressing your thumb against that tiny crack she’d let slip, but something told you she’d just deflect, maybe make some stupid joke to steer the conversation away.

So, instead, you sighed dramatically, letting the moment pass. “I think I’m too high for all this deep shit.”

Ellie huffed out a laugh. “Same.”

You grinned, swirling your drink. “Okay, new topic—what’s your favorite song?”

Ellie tilted her head, thinking. “Dunno. How’s that one song of yours go? That’s that me espresso?”

The room went still.

You blinked.

Once.

Twice.

A deep, soul-crushing betrayal settled in your chest, a wound so profound it might never heal. Your breath caught, fingers gripping your shirt like she had physically stabbed you.

Ellie, still chewing, barely spared you a glance. “What?”

Your hands trembled. “That’s Espresso.”

Your voice dropped an octave. Near-feral.

“BY. SABRINA. CARPENTER.”

Ellie paused mid-bite, brow furrowing. “Wait… that’s not your song?”

Your jaw dropped. “Are you out of your fucking mind?!”

Ellie shrugged, unbothered. “I mean, y’all sound kinda similar.”

You shot up so fast from the couch it screeched against the floor. “I HOPE YOUR AMP SHORT-CIRCUITS MID-SOLO.”

Ellie’s laughter rang through the room, loud and unbothered. “Jesus. Touch some grass.”

────────────

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the weight of an arm draped over your waist.

The second was the godawful dryness in your mouth, the kind that only came from bad decisions the night before and even worse hydration choices.

Squinting against the morning light, you shifted slightly, trying to piece together where the hell you were. Your head ached, limbs heavy, the air still thick with the scent of weed.

And then, as you turned your head—

Ellie.

Dead asleep beside you.

Face buried in the couch, hair a disaster, breathing slow and steady. One arm thrown over your waist like it belonged there, her entire body half-pressed against yours, radiating warmth. Her tank top had ridden up slightly, exposing just enough of the tattoos trailing down her back to make your already-dysfunctional brain short-circuit.

It should be illegal to look that good while sleeping.

You swallowed hard, painfully aware of the way her fingers twitched slightly against your stomach. Desperate for a distraction, you forced your gaze to the rest of the room.

The coffee table was an absolute crime scene—wrappers, crumpled napkins, open sauce packets, empty Baja Blast cups, and one lonely, half-eaten quesadilla clinging to life.

You groaned softly, rubbing your face, before muscle memory had you reaching for your phone.

And that’s when the real nightmare started.

Rachel (25 Missed Calls, 17 Texts).

Your stomach immediately twisted into knots.

Dreading whatever mess you’d apparently caused, you clicked the messages.

Rachel: WAKE UP Rachel: WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP Rachel: CHECK TWITTER RIGHT NOW.

A cold dread crawled up your spine.

With the kind of slow, creeping horror usually reserved for slasher films, you opened Twitter.

And there it was.

Trending.

#y/nandEllie

#HARDLAUNCHOFTHECENTURY

Your entire body locked up.

“What the fuck?” you croaked, voice barely functioning.

Next to you, Ellie shifted, groaning as her arm tightened around your waist, pulling you in just a fraction before she mumbled into the cushion, voice thick with sleep, “Why’re you talking?”

You didn’t even process the fact that she was literally holding you because you were too busy trying not to pass out.

Instagram. You need to check instagram.

And then you saw it.

Your most recent story.

A photo of Ellie.

Sitting on the couch, head tilted down, scrolling on her phone. Messy hair, tattoos on full display, one leg tucked up like she owned the place. In front of her? The entire ungodly Taco Bell order. Wrappers, bags, napkins—absolute devastation.

And the caption, in bold, unhinged letters:

she eats like a mf frat boy but somehow still looks hot. life is unfair.

One hundred million people have already seen it.

“FUCK!”

Ellie shifted again, her fingers skimming your stomach as she let out a sleepy groan. “Dude” she mumbled. “What now?”

You turned to her, shoving the phone directly in her face, voice pure horror.

“You let me post this?!”

She blinked at the screen. Then blinked again. And then, as if the universe hadn’t already humiliated you enough, she started grinning.

It was slow at first, creeping across her face, her shoulders starting to shake—before she full-on lost it. Ellie fucking cackled. Like, sleep-rough, chest-shaking, burying-her-face-in-the-couch dying.

You smacked her arm. “THIS IS FUCKING SERIOUS!”

She barely lifted her head, still grinning like an absolute menace.

“We smoked another blunt, got drunk, and thought it would be funny.” She stretched lazily and patted your thigh, voice rough with amusement. “So, I guess we’re official now.”

You smacked her again.

────────────

← 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑛𝑒 | 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 | 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒 →

taglist (tysm for supporting, hope you enjoy <333): @st0nerlesb0 @willurms @vahnilla @mancyw1214 @rxreaqia @laceyxrenee @antobooh @tittielover-420 @annoyingpersonxoxo @haithone @lofied @sunflowerwinds @xojunebugxo @reidairie @piscesthepoet @elliewilliamskisser2000 @pariiissssssss @mxquelo @elliesbabygirl @xx2849 @kiiramiz @mikellie @brooks-lin @kaykeryyy @lovely-wisteria @marscardigan @elliesanqel @lovelaymedown @gold-dustwomxn @ilovewomenfr @seraphicsentences @mascspleasegetmepregnant @raindroprose23 @creepyswag  @jujueilish @elliesgffrfr @kirammanss @liztreez

࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ I HAD SO MUCH FUN W THIS ONE LMAOOO. I went so full out with brainrot memes i realized how much i need to touch some grass. I did like 30 proofreads, but there might still be a few grammar mistakes here and there—sorry in advance, english isn't my first language and I will be happy to receive constructive criticism!.

Please leave a comment if you’re interested in being on the permanent taglist for this series!

see ya'll soon, stay tuned ;)

[ellieismybbg]

[ellieismybbg]

well yes 😋

ellie as knight.

[ellieismybbg]

YELLOWJACKETS😝😝😝😝😝😝

WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE | 1

ELLIE WILLIAMS, YELLOWJACKETS AU, SERIES!

SERIES MASTERLIST

001 — When You’re Gone wc: 14.4k

chapter blurb: the struggles of a soon-to-be high school graduate was rough—leaving home, leaving the girl you love behind knowing you weren’t strong enough to love her aloud; it was fear inducing. however, not as fear inducing as the sounds of a plane breaking down while in the air with you and everyone you care about inside of it. now, that was bone chilling! it’s the beginning of many, many, many nightmares to come.

cw: use of the word ‘dyke’, r and ellie being teenage lover girls, closeted abby, dramatic teenage girls, reader is working on her internalized homophobia, sarah miller, ellie being the best non-girlfriend ever, mention of a teacher/student relationship, plane crash, character deaths, reader lowkey has main-character syndrome, ellie/abby beef, reader calls her dad ‘daddy’ because she’s southern-ish (because it’s the midwest technically), 90’s accurate alcohol, little bit of r and ellie angst.

note: omg this is the first chapter in the summer act! by the time you guys see this, all of the parts for this act should be finished and queued for weekly releases (if i hold myself accountable)(i didn't but i refuse to sit on this). after i watched yellowjackets i immediately thought about ellie for obvious reasons. happy valentine’s day and happy yellowjackets s3 premiere day hehehe. hope you guys enjoy!! (if you wanna be added to the taglist, pls feel free to fill out this taglist form) also... if you see a typo, no you didn't!

The woody smell of a forest was never a comfort for you; however it wasn’t a disrupter either. Like most people, you loved the smell of flowers, fresh plants, the aroma, and texture of fresh soil—but you didn’t care for it enough to linger within it. Haunt the spaces between the tree, to feel a sense of connection to the Earth. That wasn’t the type of person you were. It didn’t mean that much to you. Although, you signed many petitions to save the trees. Save the wilderness. She had a right to be preserved.

The layered sounds of cheering echoed through the gymnasium as you and your team ran in a line toward the middle of the court. Grins adorned your faces, waving and pumping up the crowd like you were used to. Cameras flashed from the sidelines, snapping pictures of the celebration of Jackson Hole High’s victory. The Fireflies have been invited to Boston to participate in a national championship.

You’re fucking going to nationals in Boston!

Nearing the end of your senior year, with college looming at your door, it felt good that you could have one last hurrah with your favorite girls—loosely including the junior varsity players who were waiting for your dismissal so they could move up.

Loving every member of the team was hard, but you truly did; they were your sisters. Minus one faithful central striker who stood before you on the field. It would be weird to call her your sister since you’ve been sucking each other’s faces off since sophomore year.

The both of you may have been an okay pair off the field, but on the field… You were perfectly unstoppable! She was fast, while you were tactful. Even though, you were surrounded by supportive players who were eager to make a goal—a lot of times, it felt as though it were just the two of you.

You couldn’t help but be a romantic when it came to her. She was always determined to put on a show—a good show, at that. The eighteen-year-old had a reputation to uphold: mean, small town lesbian. But she was so much more than that. Under the many course layers of being a skillful forwarder, a notable lover of female company, and totally hot; she also respected the bounds of science, had an obsessive amount of Savage Starlight memorabilia, and has the intention of becoming an astrophysicist in the future. She wanted to become a scientist for the sake of the game, not to make a shit ton of money.

However, despite all of this good, there was a minor wooden hedge that kept the two of you at an arms length distance from each other.

And here’s the real kicker… You’re not one hundred percent out to the public about your sexuality. Therefore, in the past three years you’ve been sharing with this beloved girl, it’s all been experienced under pressured wraps. You didn’t necessarily hide your attraction from women—you just hated feeling other in your hometown. While you were cocky about your soccer skills, you didn’t harbor that same meanness to protect yourself when it came to who you romanticized.

Jackson Hole, or Jackson, was a town that was surrounded by elements of the Earth—right beside Yellowstone Park—there were so many other things to talk about than the fact that you were a lesbian. But that just wasn’t how small towns worked. Perhaps, it was a born and bred thing. Whenever you were born or bred into a small town, you activate this gene that forces you to be interested in everyone’s lives but your own. People from your town loved a spectacle.

And to be fair, hanging out with Ellie Williams was spectacle enough.

There were rumors that the two of you were gay for each other—that you were hooking up in hidden places. You never confirmed or denied whenever you were boldly asked. Unless your parents were pressing you about being out so late. Those claims were dead on, though!

Now, your parents were in on the whole thing, and they loved her. They were so supportive of the relationship that you sometimes thought they loved her more than you. She was labeled spunky in their eyes.

But, with all this considered, she wasn’t your girlfriend. She was just a girl that happened to be yours; someone you kept all for yourself. And Ellie being Ellie, didn’t always appreciate that phrase. It wasn’t until this year that she became indifferent to it.

“Let’s congratulate our varsity Fireflies for being chosen for nationals!” The principal of the student body praised over the choppy, cracking microphone. He had called your names out one by one, getting you onto that shiny, scuffed basketball court. Coach Tess Servopoulos stood at the head of the line, while the assistant coach, Owen Moore, stood at the other end. Accompanied by the soccer manager, Mel Teagan.

The pep rally was fast, and you were standing around the quad before you knew it, discussing a course of action for a junior varsity player who was good but not great. She lagged during games whenever she was brought on as a substitute—failing to take initiative to score. Since tomorrow was the morning that you were leaving for Boston, Coach Moore decided on throwing a scrimmage between varsity and junior varsity as a fun arrangement. However, some of the girls found this to be a moment of opportunity.

“I think we should push Lucy a little bit…” The auburn-haired player suggested, crossing her arms over her chest. Surrounded by her trusty friend group: you, Riley, Dina, and Cat.

You bunch your eyebrows, glancing at the other girls. “What do you mean by push ‘er?”

“I don’t know, make her actually work for her position.” Ellie responded, shrugging her shoulders. They all just looked at her, waiting for her to further explain. “If she’s coming with us to Boston as a substitute, she needs to work harder than just kicking a fucking ball around.”

“And she barely even does that…” Riley added, snickering, letting her eyes wander around the quad.

Cat put her hands on her hips, rocking on her feet. “If this includes physically pushing her, then I’m out.”

Ellie shook her head, holding out her hand. “Nah, that’s my job if it comes down to it.”

Dina deepened her eyebrows, squeezing her eyes shut. “So, what are we gonna do? Ice her out the whole game?”

“Yeah,” She nodded. “Only pass the ball to each other— everyone on the team except for her. Maybe it’ll finally get her to fight for a score.”

You puffed air from you lips in thought, glancing over your shoulder, uneasy. As captain of the team—yeah, you were team captain—it wasn’t ideal that you were plotting against your own. Although, she was junior varsity, it didn’t change the fact that she was a Firefly. You just wished that Lucinda Henderson did more for her team—she needs to learn to play aggressively not passively. That’s how you score. That’s how you win.

A sigh flees your mouth, peering at the central striker with narrowed eyes. “If you’re gonna push her, do it safely… I cannot afford to have a hurt freshman on my conscious.” You tiredly spoke, preparing to walk away, but Ellie grabbed your hand before you could leave the small huddle.

“Seriously, what do you think I’m capable of?”

You placed your hand over hers, squeezing, gently. “You’re different on the field… Just remember that, okay?” Sliding your hand from hers, you glance to the other girls. “I have to go run a few things over with Abby. See you in a few.”

Ellie scoffed as you trotted away, seeing your goalie talking on a bench with some bashful cheerleader. “Hey, Abs, can we talk for a sec?” You question, not giving her much of a choice by walking past the bench she was sat on, perching yourself beside a tree.

From a distance, you could feel the eyes of your undercover lover watching you from her spot. Her lips moved, still engaging in conversation about Lucy Henderson, probably, but her olive eyes remained on you. Whenever you had these sidebars with Abby, she tensed. Ellie rarely talks about why Abby gets under her skin so easily—you wondered if it was intimidation, or worse, jealousy.

Abby rolled her eyes, muttering a quick farewell to the cheerleader. “What now?” She perked an eyebrow, crossing her muscular arms.

“Don’t what now me. You think I didn’t notice those eyes you were giving to the coach?” You prodded, authoritatively. “What did I say about him— fucking drop him!”

The blonde groaned like a stubborn child. “Can’t you just mind your business, Turner?” Abby retorted. “I get that you’re captain an’ everything, but that doesn’t mean you have the right to poke your nose in things that don’t involve you.”

“You know, this is a crime, right? Statutory rape—“

“Ugh, you’re always so serious. I’m eighteen.”

“Yeah, but you’re still a student here, and he’s an instructor.” You placed your hands on your hips. “Do you wanna be on the front-page paper listed as a victim? I wonder what that would look like when you’re playing pro in a few years…”

A sneer stretched onto her lips. “Couldn’t be as bad as being called a dyke by ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the population.”

“Says the two-hundred-pound, six-foot goalie who was just flirting with Calliope Kimber…”

She stiffened, averting her eyes from you. “I wasn’t flirting…”

You chuckled behind your fingers, sizing her up. “You totally were.” With a perched eyebrow, you analyzed her features. Blue eyes shifting, twinged with bothered nerves at the mention of her behavior. “I don’t care if you’re using a man to hide behind, Abby. But I do care about the legacy of our team.” You began, nudging her arm. “Plus, Coach Moore is annoying as shit. If I were you, Henry Harmon would be more of my shtick.”

Abby shook her head, her long braid falling over her shoulder. “You’re such a control freak…” She muttered, sucking her teeth.

“Or I’m just a very passionate person.”

“Nope… You’re a control freak.”

“Okay, whatever, Popeye. God.” You hold up a dismissive hand.

The both of you walk around the school to the soccer field to prep for the scrimmage Coach Moore was hosting. You sat on the ground stretching and ensuring your laces were tight and knotted. Some of the junior varsity team sat around doing the same thing, conversing amongst each other.

Ellie, Riley, Dina and Cat joined the group as if they had something up their sleeve—not paying much of attention to the young coach marking on a clipboard. The auburn-haired player plopped herself beside you. Like usual, you adjusted yourself to do an assisted stretch with her, touching your straddled feet together and pulling each other’s hands like a seesaw. “How different am I on the field— what did you mean by that?” She asked, pulling you forward, causing her to lean backwards.

“Uhm, Ellie, you’re a threat on the field to anyone who isn’t on your team.” You pulled her forward, causing you to lean back, smiling in amusement.

“I’m not a threat, just a girl who takes her sport very seriously.” She shrugged, pulling you forward again.

You laugh, pulling her forward, but this time inching your hands up her arms so you wouldn’t lean back so far from her. “No, babe, you’re definitely a threat. But… I like that about you.” You bat your eyes at her, playfully.   

She smirked, glancing down at your lips in such an obvious way. A way that you couldn’t give much attention to—at least, not in the way you wanted. “Well, then… I guess I’m the worst of threats— the most threatening girl in the world.”

You snickered, sliding your hands back down to her hands. You pushed your legs together to do the same thing, back and forth. “Be whoever you wanna be.”

To be honest, you’d probably love her regardless of anything. She was so admirable to you—her boldness in her identity; God, Ellie was such a dream. If only she knew how much she meant to you.

“All right, I’m gonna break ya’ll up— some of varsity will be playing with jv, some of jv with varsity.” The assistant coach announced, with the sport manager standing right beside him, eagerly. Upon his immediate direction, the girls groaned—mainly, the older varsity team. Not caring for their younger peers or their feelings. “Don’t complain. It’s Coach Servopoulos’ choice!”

The choice to split them up made Ellie’s plan a bit difficult to carry out, especially if the group wasn’t split up on Lucy’s team. Coach Moore began to list out the names, the manager handing out jerseys to the ones he called. Luckily, Ellie and Dina were put on the same team as Lazy Lucy, while you and Cat were placed on the opposing team. Separated by your team with an orange jersey, and her team having a blue one.

Before the scrimmage began, you pulled Ellie aside. “Remember this is an opportunity to teach someone, not to hurt someone. Be careful out there.”

“I’m not a fucking child, y/n. I know how to be careful.” She responded, curtly, walking to her place across from you at the starting zone. You rolled your eyes, gritting your jaw in irritation. You were told to play central striker for your team, which meant that you and Ellie looked right into each other’s’ eyes before the match. Through a heavy glare, you attempt to remind her once more, but she ignores your gaze.

When the whistle blared, the game began, brutally. After all, that’s how the both of you played—even against each other. Unfortunately, her team had more varsity members, meaning you and three other people had to carry the burden of keeping your team afloat.

There was a moment where the ball was sequestered between your feet, and you were moving toward the goal with quickness. That wasn’t until Riley swiped the ball from your feet with a giggle, muttering a small apology. While you tried to get the ball back, you watched as Riley and Ellie shifted ownership of it. Obviously, excluding the calls for a pass from the copper-headed player, Lucy.

Instead of asking, Lucinda grumbled, running toward Riley to steal the ball, heading straight for your goal. You slowed down, getting the intuitive feeling that something was about to go wrong. Even Cat paused on the field, glancing at you with concerned eyes. Ellie cast her eyes toward Riley, huffing from her lips. And, just like that, she made an effort to steal the ball from Lucy—getting overwhelmed by her competitiveness.

Her cleats made a move for the patterned ball, but instead of kicking it forward, the steel of the tip of her shoe made a collision with Lucy’s fibula. A crack sound echoed over the field, followed by a shriek expelling from the girl. Lucinda dropped to the ground cradling her calf with horror.

Ellie stopped, emitting a gasp. She gripped the roots of her hair, noticing the image of her bone sticking through her skin. It was surrounded by oxidized blood, dripping all over the freshly painted turf. Briefly, you froze. Eyes widening at the scene. “Fuck,” You grimaced, sprinting over to the area, along with everyone else.

You glared at auburn-haired player, kneeling to try and help the girl, pulling her head onto your lap. “Fuck, it’s going to be okay, Luce.” You looked around for the adult authority. “Coach Moore!” You called, worriedly, trying to avoid looking at the appearance of the injured girls leg. Every time you looked at it, the image of her exposed bone caused bile to rise in your throat.

He was already in transit, with a look of weariness, running over with his hands on his head. “Shit! Mel, go to the office and tell Tess, so we get can 911 on the phone.” Coach Moore directed to the short-haired manager, clutching onto a plastic first aid kit.

“You mean Coach Servopoulos?” She raised a finger.

“Fucking obviously, Mel!” The blonde goalie told, crouching toward the sobbing freshman. The manager jumped into a sprint, running toward the building while Abby darted her eyes over the brutal injury. Her father was a surgeon, and she had always been really curious about his job. He was wildly busy, but on the weekends, when he was on-call, he’d take her with him. There was a surgery gallery above one of the operation rooms, and he snuck her in a few times. Blood never bothered her as much as it bothered others.

Coach Moore forced the girls that weren’t helping to head inside to the locker room and wait for an update, because practice was now over.

The ambulance came in due time for her to get the medical attention that she needed. Lucy winced and whined as they lifted her onto a gurney, loading her into the back of the loud ambulance truck. Abby and Nora stayed behind with you as you monitored the situation. You couldn’t help but feel at fault for this—you should’ve just told Ellie no.

“Is your girlfriend tapped?” Nora questioned, while the three of you watched the coaches tell the EMT’s what happened, even though they didn’t know much. All they knew was that a player accidentally kicked her fibula through her leg in an attempt to kick the ball.

“Nora!” You scolded, glaring at her. Partially, for outright blaming Ellie for her actions, but also for labeling her your girlfriend aloud. That part was debatable. While you were warming up to the idea, a part of you felt like you didn’t deserve that title.

Abby chortled, “It’s a valid point.” Shrugging with her arms crossed over her chest. “I watched her ice Lucy out the whole game, y/n. When she finally had it, Ellie tried to steal it from her— her own teammate. What the hell was she doing?”

You shook your head, puffing air from your lips. “Lucy played a little lazy, so she was trying to… Teach her a lesson.”

The curly-haired, right-wing central striker scoffed, fixing a pair of disappointed eyes at you. “And you let her? Some kind of captain you are.”

“Hey, I told her to be careful.”

“You should’ve told her not to do it. Now, we’re short one sub for nationals. So, thanks a lot.” Nora concluded, turning her back on you to walk toward the locker room, leaving you with the disapproving sighs of Abigail Anderson.

The both of you watched the assistant coach hop into the vehicle with Lucy, since her parents where meeting them at the hospital. Coach Servopoulos instructed that he did so—he didn’t decide to join the injured teenager on his own accord. “She took it too far…” Abby sighed, as the head coach approached the two of you with a grimace on her features.

“It was an accident, Abby. Ellie didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“You saw what her leg looked like… I find that hard to believe.” The blonde goalie frowned, walking away once Tess Servopoulos got closer, glaring at you. Like you mentioned to Ellie, sometimes she got carried away during games; she wasn’t her usual self. As in, her competitiveness gets the best of her at times. It skews her vision and makes her decide on the most aggressive courses of action, which aren’t always the best. There has been a few games where they consistently got penalties because of her rough housing.

“Turner, what the hell happened out there?” Coach Servopoulos questioned with a firm voice, running her fingers through her mousy-brown hair.  

You slumped your shoulders, rubbing your hand over your pulled back hair. “I don’t know…” You lied through your teeth, sighing. The idea of snitching on Ellie wasn’t option. She’d get benched, or worse, kicked off the team. Tess Servopoulos wasn’t a coach that just let things slide; so, there was going to be hell to pay.  

She raised her thin eyebrows at you, dryly chuckling. “Her fibula is sticking out of her leg, and you’re tellin’ me you don’t know?”

“It happened so fast, Coach. Too fast. I think it was just a misstep.” You told with layers of uncertainty.

She sighed, pressing her lips together. “This misstep just sent a fifteen-year-old to the emergency room… Now, this isn’t the first time Ellie—”

“It wasn’t her fault.” You tried, fiddling with your fingers.

Tess side-eyed you before speaking, walking toward the school building. “This isn’t the first time Ellie has been rough on the field, but it’s the first time it’s resulted in something this severe—which leads me to this… In Boston, if she as so much as shoves another player too hard, she’s getting benched. Do you hear me?” The older woman raises an eyebrow, peering down at you. A frown fell onto your lips as you casted your eyes at your moving feet.

“I hear you.” You replied, solemnly.

“I have a lot of paperwork to fill out, so… Do me a favor and let her know that. I’m not gonna care for her attitude in Boston if you forget to tell her. I’m just gonna look at you.” Coach Servopoulos told as you neared the school, entering on the athletics side, leading you to the locker room. You were absolutely dejected, feeling waves a guilt that you shouldn’t have. The image of Lucy’s leg couldn’t leave your mind, making your stomach to stir. On top of the responsibility of, basically, threatening your companion.

When you entered the locker room, the team was sat on benches tiredly, awaiting the verdict that you were looked upon to deliver. They all sat upright when they noticed you strolling in after the fuming head coach who had seemed to already reach her maximum level of stress. “What’s up? Is she gonna be okay?” Ellie was the first ask, standing to her feet from the bench, her features scrunched with worry.

“Well, I’m sure she’s getting pumped with fentanyl as we speak, so… I think she’s gonna be all right.” Tiredly, your hands fall against your thighs, passing her to walk to your locker. A frown pressed onto your features because of the nausea building in your throat.

Abby sighed, leaning her arms to the side on bench. “If only you didn’t wanna teach her a lesson…” She muttered, causing Ellie to shoot her a glare.

“What?” She snarled.

“Was that not your plan? Maybe y/n relayed it wrong tryin’ to save your ass.” Abby exposed, but you ignored her trying to focus on not throwing up, rummaging through your locker.

Riley stood up, crossing her arms over her chest. “How ‘bout you just mind your fuckin’ business, Anderson.”

The blonde snickered. “Yeah, you were probably behind it, too, huh? Best friends until the end—“

The feeling of bile rising in your throat caused you to drop the lock in your hands. It clambered to the floor, shutting them up mid-argument. “Fuck, I’m gonna vomit.” You covered your mouth with your hand, running to the nearest trashcan you could find. It was large, and thankfully, without any trash inside of it. You gripped the rim that was wrapped with a black trash bag, leaning your face over it to relieve yourself.

“Now, look what you made her do!” You heard the sound of Ellie’s voice.

You lurched, groaning at the uncomfortableness of unleashing your breakfast and lunch into the trash covered in stomach acid. You felt hands on your back, rubbing, softly. When you peered over your shoulder, you noticed the dark, wavy hair of Dina standing over you. “Made me barf, too.” She kindly smiled, patting your back.

When you finished, you wiped your mouth with your shirt. “Should’ve never agreed to that shit…” You murmured, shaking your head.

“Maybe it’s for the best that she doesn’t come to Boston with us, anyway. There’s an upside to everything!”

“Whatever, Dina.” You sighed, thanking her with a pat to her shoulder.

She mirrored your sigh, following you to the group, getting close to you. “This isn’t your fault, you know?” Dina starts, as you ignore the tension in the air while your teammates changed. Ellie had walked to the other side of the locker room to hide from everyone, probably drowning in that same level of guilt you were. The dark-haired girl leaned her shoulder against the cool, gray metal.

“Then, who’s is it? Throwing Ellie under the bus, would mean throwing myself under it, too. I might as well just do it alone.” You grumble, beginning to pull the athletic clothes from your body.

After you changed into your casual clothes, a pair of jeans, blocky sandals, and a printed tube top. A thin, knit cardigan covered your arms during school, but the final bell had rung a long time ago. Ellie had always been your ride home, so you found her waiting in the quad for you on a bench—lonely, with a pair of headphones covering her ears. They were connected to an old Walkman you gifted her some time ago.

You waved a hand at her as you approached. She slid the tiny headphones from her ears to hang around her neck. She stood up, slinging her school bag and duffle bag over her shoulder. “Hey…” Ellie greeted, timidly.

“Hey,” You smiled, watching how she adjusted herself. You adjusted the thick strap of your own duffle bag, examining her freckled features. “What a day, huh?”

“Yeah…” She started walking toward her truck, pulling her keys from her pockets. Now, would be the best time to tell her of the limited amount of fuck-ups she had left, but the words wouldn’t come out. You followed her, swinging each foot in front of the other. “You were right… I shouldn’t have pushed her… I fucked up so bad today.” Ellie shook her head, running a hand through her shaggy, short hair.

You shrug, pressing your glossy lips together. “It happens…”

“I shouldn’t have let you take the fall for it.” She takes your hand, as you walk toward the emptying parking lot. You glance at the desperate hand, grasping for consolation and understanding.

In return, you grip her to reassure her. “You’re lucky Coach Serv didn’t ask too many questions— I barely took the fall for anything.” You lean into her arm, holding her bicep with your other free hand. “She probably has loads of paperwork to fill out since it happened on the school’s property. I think she has bigger concerns, right now.”

When you arrived at her blue Ford Bronco, you trot to the passenger side. “But I don’t mind taking the fall for it. I wouldn’t wanna go on this trip if you weren’t going, too.” Ellie grinned, watching you toss your things into the back seat.

The both of you got into the truck, shutting the door at the same time. The auburn-haired girl started the engine, causing the radio to switch on. Her earthy irises looked over at you, with a gleam of adoration. You smiled, cheeks warming under her gaze. A giggle leaves your throat as you lean over the center console, pulling the fabric of her shirt towards you so you could plot your lips against hers. Her windows weren’t that tinted, but you didn’t care in that moment.

Kisses always heightened Ellie’s mood, and you didn’t want her to worry about what happened with Lucy anymore. It was nothing but a mere accident—she would never want to hurt anyone.

You pulled away from her lips, not before plotting one final chaste kiss, leaning back into your seat. “Are we going to your place or mine?” You reached over to stretch the seatbelt across your body.

“Do you have everything you need for the party later?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“My place it is then.”

As we die, both you and I with my head in my hands I sit and cry…

No Doubt played on the radio, distracting you from the minor, small town traffic that got on under your skin—even though, you weren’t the one driving. You leaned your head on your fist, watching Ellie from the side of your eye. Her window was wound all the way down, elbow resting on it while her other steered the wheel. Her shaggy, auburn hair was blown across her head from the intensity of the wind. But she didn’t care, and neither did you. Her thumb tapped along the leather steering wheel to the beat of the music, nodding her head, rhythmically.

God, you were so in love with her. You were going to miss the days driving down the skinny roads of your hometown with her manning the wheel—because you rarely drove when she was around.

There was a secret that you were keeping tightly under wraps, though—amongst that love. Away from her, and the rest of the team. The joys of traveling to Boston with your team, and your non-girlfriend, is that it’s like a final hurrah before you all graduate and go your separate ways.

A few weeks ago, you received a letter from the admission’s office at University of Notre Dame for their soccer and Literature program—you got in! To your knowledge, Ellie had already committed to Massachusetts Institute of Technology. There was a family friend that lived in the area, which made her feel comfortable with moving so far away. Once you tell her about your commit to Notre Dame, everything will be set in stone; that the both of you were moving on. Everything would be too real—too fast. You were really leaving each other.

That was a topic you always found a way to jump around. At the end of the day, she wasn’t really your girlfriend. The pair of you had been in his happy mix of a relationship and a friendship—calling each other friends but doing the things that people in relationships did for a few years now. It kept too many people from asking you questions you didn’t feel enough conviction to answer. But that left you in a vulnerable position.

Once she sets foot up North, girls will be all over her as if she were a walking aphrodisiac. The prefect blend of masculinity and femininity relied in her spirit. She’d be the apple of any woman’s eye—well, any woman in their right mind—if she does half of what she does for you. Perhaps, one day you’ll rack up the courage to claim her, loudly.

She pulls into the driveway of her two-storied, brick home, sighing, casually. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, Sarah’s back early from school for my graduation. I’m gonna try and get her to be our ride for tonight.” Ellie shuts off the engining, gripping the handle to open up the door.

“Ellie, you know she’s gonna say no. If you wanna drink tonight, I can take one for the team…”

“I want us both to be able to celebrate, and after today, we both deserve a drink. Plus, she owes me.” She shrugged, grabbing her bags from the backseat, and you doing the same.

You chortle, walking around the to truck, to her side. “A drink won’t kill me.”

She looks at you, adjusting the straps on her shoulders. “Okay, you hate driving. Why do you wanna be DD so bad?” Ellie passed you, walking toward her front door. The sound of you giggling, trailing behind her.

“I’m just making sure we have options. Did she drive, this time, from Washington?”

The auburn-haired nodded, unlocking the door and pushing inside. “No, she took a flight. So, she shouldn’t have a problem borrowing Maxie” She referenced the dull, blue Bronco that she trusted with her life.

Ellie’s adoptive sister was a second year at the University of Washington. Every summer she comes back home to be with her family because dorm-life called the shots.

You walked inside behind her, passing the kitchen to get to the pair wooden stairs that led to her bedroom. “I’m home!” Ellie called, walking toward the fridge with you lingering behind her. “Sarah!��� She offered you a cold bottle of water, handing it to you as she awaited her sisters’ response.

“Up here!” Her sister responded from up the stairs.

You trailed after your lover, trotting up the wooden steps to follow Sarah’s smooth voice. There was a light echo of The Cranberries, When You’re Gone, playing on the radio, coming from her bedroom. She must’ve been playing the new album. Ellie peeked into her bright space, placing her eyes on her laying figure, doodling in an artbook. Her pale, blue eyes looked up from the coarse page, twirling her charcoal pencil in her left hand. “Dad’s gonna be workin’ late tonight. So, I might be the one dropping you off tomorrow. Hope that’s all right.” Sarah hit the eraser of her pencil against the page, looking up at her sister leaning on the threshold of her bedroom door. Before she had shipped off to Washington, there used to be a thick southern twang that caught the attention of many Jacksoner’s. Sarah replicated the vocal inflections of her father—and Ellie’s voice did the same occasionally. She glanced at you, wiggling her fingers as a greeting.

You smiled, waving your hand.

“I don’t see why it wouldn’t be. Also… Could you do me a favor?”

She rolls her eyes, pushing her stuff aside to adjust herself onto her butt, narrowing her eyes at Ellie. “y/n and I are going to this party tonight, and we wanna drink— safely, so… Could you drive us?”

Sarah sighed, hopping from her bed to turn her silver-gray radio down, twisting the knobs with her index and thumb, plum nail polish artistically chipped. “I thought you had friends, Els… With cars.”

Ellie chuckled, dryly. “I do, but I don’t trust them to drive us back sober.” She rocked on her feet, furrowing her eyebrows to show humility. “C’mon, Sare, you owe me.”

She raised a blonde eyebrow, crossing her arms. “I owe you? From what?” Sarah dubiously asked.

“That one time sophomore year when I lied to Joel about where you were— saying you were at Natalie’s house, when you really were at Cole Matthew’s playing horizontal Twister.” Ellie blinked, feigning innocence. “If you don’t take us… I don’t mind clearing that up with him when I get back from Boston.”

The college girl gasped, then shook her head in disbelief. “Teenagers are evil. Wow.”

“You just turned twenty in April…” Ellie deadpanned.

“Fine. I guess I’ll take you, but I’m picking you up no later than one.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, lips curling at the edges. “Whatever,” She pivoted, taking your hand. “Thanks.” Her eyes glanced at you over her shoulder as she led you a few paces down the hall to her bedroom.

You shut the door behind you, snickering to yourself at the little threat she made to her sister. “You’re a manipulator…” You mutter, dropping your bag near the door. Her room was comfortably dim, with a dark, earthy motif. While her walls were still a white-ish tone of beige, its starkness was diminished by the many posters layered over each other. There was a slight lack of orderliness to her bedroom—a touch of clutter, making it all the more comforting.

Immediately, Ellie walked to her closet to change into some comfortable clothes. She dropped her jeans, sliding on a pair plaid boxers and a t-shirt. “Sometimes you need to do a little manipulating to get the job done.” She shrugged, humorously. “Sarah’s been trying to live down Cole Matthew’s since they hooked up her senior year— it was an easy shot.”

The softness of her made bed called out to you, making you leap onto it after kicking off your sandals. You rolled onto your back, sprawling out over her mattress. “I don’t think Dr. Daniela Star would approve of this.” You sit up on your elbows, ogling her from the center of her bed, referencing the protagonist from her favorite comic. Ellie turned to look at you, lips curling into a boyish smirk.

She sauntered toward you, crawling onto the mattress, over you, settling between your legs. You drape your arms around her shoulders, looking up at her with gleaming irises, examining her round features—olive, doe eyes, sprinkled freckles over her cheeks and nose, plush lips exposing her straight teeth. “What she doesn’t know, won’t hurt her.” Ellie grins, pressing her body against yours as she leaned down to plot her lips on yours. Smooch. Smooch. Before she begins to devour your face like it was the last time.

She braced one elbow by the side of your face, using the other hand to drift down your body, gripping and groping in ways you’d ever allow her to do. You giggled against her lips, completely comfortable under her devoted and doting caress. You were going to miss this most of all—the intimacy of her touch.

So, you spent the time before the party, memorizing every crevice of her body. From the follicles of her auburn hair to the birthmark on her ankle, breathing her in like your own addictive brand of oxygen. After you indulged in each other for a few hours, she pulled out guitar and played for you. Sat by her desk, facing you as you watched her fingers press along the copper strings of her acoustic guitar.

When it was time to get ready for the party, Ellie didn’t do much but throw on an outfit that appeared to have come straight from a Delia’s catalog. You had packed a boxy corduroy mini-dress and a pair of converses that matched hers; they were just a smidge cleaner, though. While you primped and primed yourself, you managed to convince her to smudge some eyeliner around her eyes—it brings out green in your eyes, you say; after propping yourself on her bathroom counter, welcoming her between your legs to add charcoal eyeliner around her eyes.

Ellie then peered in the mirror, over your shoulder, cheeks warming up at her own reflection. She wasn’t a typical wearer of makeup, but whenever she did partake, you noticed her expression of elevation. If it was small, and dainty, she never minded adding to her appearance with a little bit of makeup. However, she only did so when you applied it for her.  

You left the house borderline fashionably late, with Sarah swinging Ellie’s keys around her index finger. She hopped into the driver’s seat, adjusting the mirrors and seat to accommodate to her style of driving. Ellie had to push her seat forward to allow you climb into the backseat. The blonde took her time, causing her sister to side-eye her, pointedly. “Sarah, you are killin’ me.” Ellie spoke, holding out an annoyed hand.

“You asked me to drive you, and you’re complaining? I got a hundred on my driver’s test for a reason—”

“Nobody cares. Please, just drive, dude.”

She pressed her lips into a line, shifting the gear to backing out of the inclined driveway. “Ellie, you just get bitchier with time.” You snickered in the back, pulling your seatbelt over your body, clicking it into the lock. As she started down the road, she peered into the rearview, getting a glimpse of you while her lips percolated to speak. “So, y/n, have you committed to a school yet? I know time’s just a’tickin’…” Sarah offered conversation, smiling in the small mirror. From the corner of your eye, you noticed the rigidness in Ellie’s shoulders at the mention of university.

Ellie nudged her over the console, scoffing. “No pressure…” She filled in, giving you comforting glance.

“I haven’t yet… I’m waiting until after nationals… I don’t want my decision to be heavily influenced by anything, you know?” You slowly explain, looking at the blonde through the mirror.

Sarah glanced at Ellie, making a face you couldn’t quite read. “Yeah, for sure.” She responded, chuckling, lightly. “I forget— what are you going to school for? I know Ellie’s doin’ Biophysics. She’s going full astronaut on us!” She playfully punched Ellie’s arm, laughing, joyously. Clearly, already proud of her.  

You lick the cherry gloss on your lips, priming them to speak. “I’m going for Literature. I used to want to be a professor, and I might still go down that route, but I think I’m going to take soccer serious for a little while.”

“She wants to go pro.” Ellie added, winking over her shoulder at you.

“Hopefully, I can qualify for the Olympics within the next two years.” You shrug, nodding your head, timidly. It was always hard to tell people what you wanted for your future—especially, when your goals seemed so far away. It was always fifty-fifty when sports players wanted to go pro—hit or miss! That’s why you wanted to get you degree; so, it could seem more realistic.

The eldest in the truck, hummed. “I’ve seen you play. I’m sure you could qualify now.” Sarah laughed. “Who do I have to call to make it happen?”

“Oh, my God! You sound just like Joel!” The auburn-haired player gasped, chortling in her seat. The two siblings then began conversing between themselves, asking for your input every so often.

In the dark, she pulled into a clearing that was already lingering with drinking teenagers. She sighed, putting the car in park. “I swear this is like the beginning of a slasher film— you guys be safe!” Sarah told, leaning down as the both of you exited the car. For a moment, you had to wait for Ellie to release the passenger seat, so you could climb out the same way you climbed in. “And cover your drinks… There’s some odd-lookin’ character’s out here.” Ellie gave her thumbs up, attempting to shut the door, but her sister had to say one more thing. The blonde snickered behind her slender fingers before speaking. “I was also gonna say wrap it up, but… You know—”

Ellie decided to cut her off. “Okay, see you at one!” She shut the door, peering at your amused face. “She’s so not funny.”

“I disagree.” You slide your arm through hers, holding onto her as your feet crunched through the grass. Her earthy eyes glanced at you, glancing down at the touching of your skin to hers—boldly in front of your peers. You weren’t entirely thinking, you just wanted to be close to her. That simple feel for physical touch caused her cheeks to fill with warmth, eyes sparkling under the full moon.

She didn’t say anything because she didn’t want to freak you out. Make you coil into your own touch. Earlier, Ellie didn’t make a note of your touch when you were walking to the parking lot after school, because barely anyone was around to tell the tale. The tale of two girls cuddling up with one another in a more than friendly way. Now, you were surrounded by your peers, other upperclassmen, and you were holding onto her like she was your girlfriend. Not your friend.

You approached a wiggling fire, burning a pile of logs, a bonfire. A few fireflies hovered around it with red solo cups in their hands, conversing and laughing. When they noticed you and Ellie, they smiled and waved—some of them. If the varsity team could be cleanly divided in half, that would show the exact turn out of the smiles and frowns.

“Hey, Turner.” Abby greeted you, and you alone. Nora lingered close by, with Dina and Cat hovering in the back. They waved, but they could see the tension developing and didn’t want to get involved.

Instantly, Ellie stiffened, groaning under her breath. “I’m gonna go find us somethin’ to drink.” She pulled from your grasp, leaving you colder than before—and it was leaning more into summer by the day. Riley held her red cup by the white line along the rim, following her as she walked into the dimly lit dark. You could already hear her rants of internal fury coming from Ellie’s pinched mouth.

“Stop trying to piss her off.” You tell the blonde, deepening your eyebrows.

She pushed her long blonde hair behind her ears, shrugging. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Let the situation be done with. It’s over, so get the fuck over it— I’m serious, Abby.” Your voice firmed, glaring up at her, since she was so much taller than you. “We are leaving tomorrow, and I want us to all start off on the right foot.”

“Right leg, you mean?” Nora lifted an arched eyebrow. Shamelessly, she referenced the bone-white fibula that was sticking out of Lucinda Henderson’s leg on the field.

“Is that supposed to be a joke, Nora?” You ask her, narrowing her eyes. “You were so upset about what happened, and now you’re joking about it?”

“Well, if it never happened, I wouldn’t be joking about it now, would I?” The curly-haired forwarder retorted.

You scoffed, having enough of their paired hooplah—it was annoying you, and you were wanting to have a good night. “You know, what? Fuck you guys.” You mutter, pushing through them toward Dina, Cat, and another one of the players, Aisha Conrad. They were watching with keen eyes, clutching their drinks in their hands.

“They’re such bitches…” You grunted, crossing your arms, wondering where Ellie was with your drink. You could certainly use one.

Cat swallowed a sip of the jungle juice, nodding her head. “Tell me about it.” She shook her head. “I should’ve never told my dad about this— we should’ve booked public instead. They would have booked an entirely different flight than us, and we could’ve all been spared of their endless bullshit.”

“You know, the only reason I think Abby is still on this team is because she’s fucking Moore.” Aisha added, rolling her eyes.

Dina gasped, covering her lips with her hand. “Wait, what?”

“Aisha, we shouldn’t be talking about that.” You remind her, widening your eyes, warningly.

“No, wait.” Dina held up a hand, eyeing you. “Abigail Anderson is fucking Owen? The same girl who I always catch chatting up cheerleaders?” She raised her thick eyebrows, guffawing, loosening up from the alcohol in her hands. “Hell, I’m surprised she’s not doing it right now!”

The short-haired midfielder, Cat, looked to the dark sky in thought. “I wonder why she chose Owen of all people. He’s so… Lame.”

“And good for nothin’.” Aisha added, shrugging.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that—good for nothin’—yeah, that checks out. He definitely wasn’t as good of a coach as Tess Servopoulos; you didn’t even know why he was hired. Who cares if he attended Jackson Hole High a few years prior?

“Why not Henry Harmon?” The freckled girl questioned, swirling her drink in her cup. “Now, he’s hot.”

A surprised laugh left your throat. “Dina, don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him— plus, everybody knows that Henry’s hot. Even you. Just because you’re a lesbian doesn’t mean you don’t have eyes.” Dina rambled, carelessly, until she abruptly covered her mouth with her hand, again.

Instead of cowering from the term of your sexual orientation, you barely flinched. You only narrowed your eyes at your friend, chuckling. “Shit, sorry, y/n.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m sure half the student body already suspects it.” You wave your hand.

Aisha pursed her lips, glancing around the teenager-filled clearing. “I mean, it’s not like you had a boyfriend in the last four years…”

Cat nudged her, roughly, arching her lips in shock. Aisha could be a little bit too honest for her own good. You were surprised that she hasn’t told everyone in a five-mile radius that she was friends with a lesbian. Or, maybe, she had. There was one afternoon—junior year—when you checked your main locker and a note fell out. It was scribbled with pink cursive handwriting, signed with heart and purple lipstick.

I always knew you were a lesbo!

In that moment, you thought your life was over. Then, a girl by the name of Laura Leony privately came forward, saying it was all her doing. She didn’t declare why, but she didn’t have to—you could understand. After that, you just tried to lay low.

That might’ve been the worst of you and Ellie. To argue was to breathe when it came to the two of you last year.

“Aisha, what would I do without you.”

“Crash and burn.” Innocently, she touched her ears with her shoulders, giggling to herself. “I really don’t think people care as much as you think.”

Deeply, you inhaled. “You’d be surprised.”

The sound of your name was spoken from behind, causing you to swivel. It was Ellie and Riley approaching. She had two drinks in her hands, and was mid-conversation, talking with her eyebrows burrowed together. “Spiked punch,” Ellie informed, handing you the red solo cup, filled a bit more than halfway. “And it’s pretty strong.” She sighed, jutting her eyebrows up at the girls as a greeting.

“Did you guys know that Abby’s fucking the coach?” Dina abruptly asked them, pointing a lazy finger.

“Yeah,” Riley chortled, sipping her drink.

“Tess?” Ellie questioned, incredulously, snapping her head toward her best friend in confusion.

You sigh, rubbing your fingers along your eyebrows, tiredly. It was better that less people knew about Abby’s silly affiliation with the young coach—it was better for the Fireflies. “Owen. Not Tess.” Still, you clarified, glancing at her. There was a reason you kept this one thing from Ellie. Her and Abby rarely got along, what if she exposed this interesting fact aloud during an argument? They could open a case, and the entire team could be put on probation until it was solved.

Her jaw dropped in mischievous shock. “What? You knew about this?” Ellie asked you, while her eyes gleamed in the dark. The ‘and you didn’t tell me’ part was silent, but you somehow could still hear her saying it in your mind, filling the gaps.

Your response was none other than a sip of your drink, and a brief lift of your eyebrows. You’ve been captain of your team since the end of sophomore year—of course, you knew about this!

“It’s not obvious?” Aisha perched an eyebrow, downing the rest of her drink.

“Some of us mind our business, Aisha.” Riley snickered, crossing an arm under her elbow. She squinted her eyes at her as a bratty response. “It’s not a secret if it’s obvious.”

“This is great.” Ellie muttered into her cup, shrugging her shoulders.

You snapped her your head toward her. “No, it’s not great. Don’t get any ideas.”

Her best friend laughed, peering down at her amusingly. “Oh, Turner, you’re late. Far too late— the ideas have already began flowin’.” Riley laughed. She was always a subtle lover of chaos and disturbance. She rarely ever caused it, though; Riley was more the type to watch it unfold, and step in if she needed to.

“Ellie,” You warn, deepening your eyebrows.

She put her hands up. “Your secret is safe with me— or, I guess, her secret.” Her smokey, olive eyes glanced at her closest friend, snickering.

You suck your teeth, tapping your fingers against the plastic of your cup. “Why don’t we talk about something else? Boston! Are we excited about Boston?” The lip of your cup found your lips, and you began sipping the drink like your life depended on it. It was the only way to numb your anxieties.

Dina grinned, pointing her finger at Ellie. “Oh, my God— wait, didn’t you get into MIT?”

Immediately, she grew bashful, nodding her head. “Yeah… But I’m not going.”

You paused, turning your body to face hers. “What do you mean you’re not going?” Your eyebrows were deepened, eyeing her intently. “It’s fucking MIT…”

She inhaled, deeply, pursing her lips. “They didn’t have the major I wanted.”

“You never said anything about this.”

“You never asked…”

An awkward beat passed through the group. Mainly hovering between you and Ellie. Your free hand fell to your side, slapping against your bare thigh. Aisha’s voice barrels through the silence, looking around a few parked cars. “Henry!’ She called, waving her hand high above her head, breaking the silence. “I’m gonna go… Come on, Cat!” Aisha took Cat’s hand, dragging her from the group. Whoops, things just got awkward. However, you didn’t care; your eyes were stuck on Ellie’s with a worried irises.

“I’m sure Jesse is somewhere lookin’ for me… I’ll leave you guys.” Dina gave a tightlipped smile, slipping away, leaving the two of you by yourselves.

“You’re still going to college, right?” You ask, looking at her intently.

“Yeah, of course! Joel would have my head otherwise.” She responded, chuckling, glancing off into the woods.

You blink at her, scoffing under your breath. “Okay, so where? I know you applied to Brown, USC… Uhm—“

“Notre Dame.” Ellie answered, plainly, rocking on her feet.

Your jaw practically unhinged itself, flickering your eyes between hers. Notre Dame? That was your school. “What?”

She sighed, downing the rest of her drink, crumbling up the plastic and tossing it to the side. “They had the major I wanted. Biophysics. And… I saw the acceptance letter in your kitchen while you were in the shower a few weeks ago.” Ellie paused, running her hand through her short hair. “It’s your dream school— I knew you’d commit. Their soccer program is phenomenal— aren’t they, like, second in the country?”

With your lips gapped open, you were frozen in surprise. Ellie had decided to attend the same school as you? Even after her set plan of going to Boston? To say the least, you were surprised—as surprised as a person could get. The possibility of the two of you going to college together never seemed to cross your mind. Indiana didn’t seem like Ellie’s gig.

“I was hoping for a better reaction than this.” She tapped your jaw, lightly rubbing her thumb against the structure of your face.

You blinked, again. Taut breath escaping your throat. Instead of speaking, you wrapped your arms around her neck, tugging her against your body, causing your drink to spill down the back of her shirt—it was an accident. “Woah,” Ellie chortled, pulling you in from your waist.

“Fuck, I would’ve said something sooner about Notre Dame— I just…” You stammered, inhaling, sharply. “I don’t know… I was getting really existential about everything. Leaving the team behind— leaving you behind! I was fuckin’ losing it…” You pulled back, keeping your arms draped around her shoulders. Her fingers finding comfort at your hips. “But I swear, I was gonna tell you once we got back from Boston… I wish you would’ve said something earlier. Now, I look like an asshole.” You plucked her shoulder with your fingers, pouting.

“I was waiting until you wanted to tell me for yourself— it just took longer than expected s’all.”

Ellie was patient when she wanted to be. At first, you thought it was because she knew that you were separating soon, wanting to end on a good note an all. She used to gripe about being in an unlabeled relationship, but since the spring semester started, she was a sweet as pie. “I’m sorry…” You mutter, playing with the short hairs at the nape of her neck. The comment of your coach rang through you mind—maybe, you should warn her about messing up… But you didn’t want to ruin this moment.

“It’s fine.” She hummed, flickering her eyes over your features. It really wasn’t fine, in your mind, but whatever she said went. If you were her, you would’ve broken up with yourself a long time ago. “We’re goin’ to college together.” Ellie grinned, leaning toward your lips.

You laugh, adjusting your arms around her neck. “We’re going to college together.” You parrot, leaning into her, carelessly. Not caring for the off-handed looks of your peers—as their expectations were met by the physicality of your relationship.

Before your lips could meet, surrounded by trees, the sounds of an altercation pulled her from you. It sounded like—

“Is that Riley?” Ellie questioned, looking over your shoulder.

You turned around, narrowing your eyes on the figures getting at each other. They were pointing fingers and yelling, causing a group to develop around them. “What the hell…” You mutter, dropping your cup, and jogging over to the scene. Ellie was on your tail with a similar look of confusion.

People had gathered in a circle around them, urging them to have a cat fight. You shoved the guy instigating to the side, pushing into the middle of the crowd. Heat burrowed under your skin, glaring at the two girls—Riley and Abby—as you mentally decided on the course of action.

“You know what, meat-head? I suggest you keep your fuckin’ mouth shut!”

“Or what?!” Abby exclaimed, holding up her arms, tauntingly. “You gonna kick my shin in—? I’d like to see you try!”

“Am I gonna do that before or after you fuck Coach Mo—“

That’s when you interrupt, running between the two of them. Ellie following in your steps, placing a hand on Riley’s shoulder. “Riles, leave it.”

You snap you fingers, glaring at the both of them. “Fireflies! What the hell are you doing— let’s go!” You instruct them, pointing your fingers toward the semi-crowded wood. There was a path leading you down, but you need them to separate from the rest of your class. Abby hesitated, gritting her jaw, glaring at the girl with braids running down her back. “Go on…” You push her arm, lightly, guiding her to lead the group.

The core group of the team lingered in the crowd, pushing through as soon as you commanded. When you found privacy, they stood in a line before you. In the order of: Ellie, Riley, Aisha, Cat, Dina, Nora, Abby, Sid, Uma and Mei. You didn’t even realize Uma and Mei had been in attendance until they materialized from the shadows of the party.

You paced down the line like a military general, with your hands held behind your back. “Clearly, none of you heard me when I said that tomorrow we need to be starting off on a good foot— so, now, I have to treat you girls like children.” You scold, glaring at the most argumentative on the team.

Sid raised her hand, pursing her dainty lips. “You don’t have to…”

Your eyes peered at her, smirking. “Oh, my God! Sid, thank you so much for volunteering for my exercise—“

“Huh?”

“Come here.” You tell her, holding out a hand. She comes forward, stuffing her hands into the front pockets of her jeans. “Here’s what you’re gonna do… You’re gonna go down the line and say what love about your teammates— each and every one.”

Sid groaned, slouching her shoulders. “Ugh, that’s embarrassing! y/n, do I have to? My team knows I fuck with them…”

Dina raised her hand, snickering. “Actually, I didn’t know that… You’re always so quiet.”

You grip Sid’s shoulders from behind, peering over her shoulder. “Now, look at that… Why don’t you start with Ellie?”

She dragged her feet forward, positioning herself to stand before the girl. “Uhm, Ellie… I think you’re one of the best this team has. It may not always seem like it, but I appreciate the feedback you give me when it comes to defense.” Sid sighed moving into the player beside her. “Riley, despite how much it annoyed y/n… I do find it commendable that you were so quick to defend your friend for something that she wasn’t even around to hear.”

Riley glanced at Ellie, earning a soft nudge.

Sid continued, going down the line of the team, awkwardly complimenting until her turn was over. The line went from the end to the front, until everyone had gone; you being the last to compliment your team.

The core argumentative four managed to say nice things about each other, through their opposing opinions, causing everyone to neutralize their emotions. After, Riley Abel had found herself apologizing about nearly exposing the relationship between Abby and Owen—it was fucked up, she said.

Then, Abby apologized for tempting her to fight, which led to her apologizing to Ellie for her harsh judgement. Nora followed suit, hesitantly.

So, your plan worked! Either they were all completely humoring you, or the tactic that Coach Servopoulos mentioned last year actually worked.

It wasn’t long before you heard the horn of Maxine honking at you and Ellie. The complimenting session brought you guys to one, meaning it was time to leave. And neither you nor Ellie didn’t mind. The party wasn’t the most relaxing shindig, but improvements were made within the group. Hopefully, meaning that tomorrow morning everybody will be walking onto that plane with a fresh start.

Sarah had dropped you off at your house. Ellie letting you out the backseat, kissing you goodbye, longingly. Her hands clutched your sides like she didn’t want to release you—like you weren’t seeing each other in seven hours. When she finally did, you held onto her hand until your fingers slipped from hers, walking up the path to your home.

You were a bit of a last-minute packer, meaning you spent the next hour making sure you have everything you needed for Boston. Your uniform, pajama’s, cute clothes, three pairs of shoes—including your cleats. In the case of boredom, you shoved two options of books into your duffle bag. Since you were flying privately, because of a large, humble purchase made by Cat Yoon’s father, there was more give to the weight of your bag.

When you were finished, you put the bags by your front door, as quietly as possible to not wake your parents. Then, you showered and slipped into bed, falling asleep to the image of furthering your education with the love of your life. While it slightly worried you, excitement was the most noticeable emotion coursing through you. More so because it gave you time. Time to open up and be yourself to not only Ellie, but to the world moving and progressing around you. You didn’t want to hide beneath a blanket of neutrality anymore.

To love a woman wasn’t a crime to be charged with. Not anymore, at least—its 1996.

The morning came around fast. Your blaring alarm woke you up with a screech, which was followed by your mother knocking on your door for breakfast. Quickly, you did your hygiene routine. Then, you rushed down the stairs to consume something hearty to last the whole flight, or most of it. You never liked eating on planes. It always felt like the food never digested properly in the air, or perhaps, that was your slight neurosis of flying. Your parents spoke of how proud they were of you, going to nationals, getting into college—they were getting emotional before your eyes.

In a way, their emotions shifted onto you, causing your eyes to water. It felt as if you were already saying goodbye to them. Your father helped pack your bags into the car, before he kissed you farewell. He couldn’t drive you to the airport because work had called him in. “Please, don’t forget to call us when you get to the hotel.”

“Remember, your dad is prone to strokes…” Your mother added, walking around to get into the driver’s seat.

You laugh, pulling from the embrace he had wrapped you in. “I remember. I won’t forget!” You patted his arm, reaching for the handle of the passenger door. “As soon as I get to the hotel, I’ll call you, daddy.”

“All right, have safe flight, honey.”

The sound of the foreign engine of your mother’s car sounded as you slipped into the passenger seat with a departing smile. When your mother pulled out of the driveway, you waved to your father as he watched the car roll into street.

Jackson Hole Airport wasn’t far from your home—under ten miles. So, you didn’t spend a lot of time chatting with your mother before you drifted into the independence of traveling to Boston. You couldn’t get far from the drop-off point before she reminded you to call when you arrived at the hotel. After sharing quick I love you’s, you dragged your luggage, with your duffle bag draped atop of it, into the semi-busy airport.

On your way inside, you catch the frantic movements of Mei Hawkins. She was hitching two medium-sized luggage’s and a backpack. They kept falling over, tilting over sidewalk curbs and bubbles on the pavement. “Mei,” You waved, trotted over toward her. “You need some help?”

Her shoulders were hunched, a whine-like laugh coming from her throat. “If you can…” Mei smiled, showing her slight gapped tooth smile. “Flights always frazzle me.” You took one the luggage’s from her, pulling it along with your other hand. There was some weight to it, more than you thought. “A few years ago, my aunt was in a plane crash— it was minor. Barely lifted off the runway before it came back down. She was stuck in Kyoto for a week.”

You snickered, walking through automatic doors of the airport. “I don’t know if we could count that as a plane crash…”

“You can to! The wheels went up, so everybody felt the collision. It was like a bad landing, but worse.” Mei explained with lifted skinny eyebrows. “It’s freaked me out ever since. I haven’t visited Japan in three years because of it.” She shivered, adjusted the straps of her Jansport. “The only reason why I even agreed to this because, one— it’s nationals, and two— it’s within the country. Slowly, but surely, I’m conquering my fear…”

She was a bit of a nervous rambler, but she played completely opposite of that. Like you, she was a center midfielder—she stood right next to you on the field. When Mei focused, she was a totally different person compared to who she was off the field.

“That’s one way to look at it. Glad you could make it— we need you.” You told her, shuffling through people. The team was able to evade customs since the flight was private, thankfully. Especially, with the load that Mei was carrying.

She chortled, peering her hazel eyes around. “No need to butter me up. I’m already coming.”

“Yeah, clearly. And you brought your whole closet with you.” You laugh, looking over at her. “What’s in this luggage? A dead body?”

Mei looked at you with a pointed expression. “I pack for emergencies…” She leaned closer to you, as you approached the outer boarding area. “All types.” The girl spoke with such diction that made your mind go straight to the gutter.

“Mei, is there alcohol in here?”

Her lip fell between her teeth, mischievously. “I’ll tell if you sit next to me on the plane…” She shrugged, walking ahead of you.

“Sold!” Although, you were planning on sitting beside Ellie, the offer was too good to pass up. If she snuck in the goods, Boston was going to be so much more fun than you expected.

The aircraft came into view, obstructing the morning sun from your eyes. It was the perfect size for your team. A smile creeped onto your face, wheeling yours and Mei’s belongings toward the plane. Coach Servopoulos stood outside, chatting with Henry Harmon, and his brother Sam.

Your eyes widen at the sight of them, jogging toward the two. “Oh, shit! Henry, Sam— since when were you guys coming to Boston?” You ask through a friendly smile, doing a mixture of a waddle and jog to approach the brothers. Mei had simply waved at them, before walking up the metal stairs into the airplane.

Henry grinned, waving his hand, boyishly. He was a senior just like you, approaching graduation with ferocity. He was the president of the school newspaper and worked very hard to earn his position. His brother, Sam, was a sophomore following right in his footsteps, knowing how to man a camera like it was easy. Sam took the pictures, and Henry wrote the stories.

“We’re plannin’ on publishing a story on JHH’s Fireflies going to nationals. Coach T just approved the request yesterday.” Henry grinned, leaning onto his tough-box luggage.

Sam gave a shy, tightlipped smile. He pulled his camera around his body, aiming it you. “Smile!”

The flash of his camera shocked you into being ready, but it didn’t work. “Okay, Sam… At least try and get my good side.” You pose for the photo, turning to the side. He chuckles, snapping the picture, then giving you a thumbs up. “All right, I’ll see you guys inside.”

“What am I chopped liver?!” The head coach calls, slapping her hands against her covered thighs.

“Sorry! Morning, Coach Serv!” You grit your teeth, trotting up the steps. Slightly, struggling with Mei’s bag.

Most of the team had already arrived and they already sat in their seats. Abby jutted her eyebrows at you from her cushioned position, sitting beside Nora. They both had neck rests of different patterns and had faces that exposed their fatigue, and potentially, their hangovers. Dina sat beside Mel, and you knew that wasn’t by personal choice. She waved her fingers at you, keeping place in her book with her other hand. Cat and Aisha sat together, already talking up a storm. Ellie and Riley were the only ones running behind, and it made you frown.

“Mei,” You complain, attempting to put the luggage in the overhead.

“Sorry!” She hopped from the seat she was getting comfortable in, deciding to help you get the luggage into the compartment.

After securing it over your seats, you put your luggage in an empty one a little way from your seat, then the both of you sat. She took the window seat, while you took the aisle, in the front half of the plane. Perhaps, it made sense for you to be ahead of most of the team—you were the captain, after all. And, if you could choose a co-captain—which you asked Coach Servopoulos about a variety of times—it would be the girl sitting beside you, Mei. Not only would she deserve the position, but she’s the next best player beside Ellie. Because the two of you have been involved with each other for some time, choosing Ellie as your co-captain would be a recipe for disaster. Frankly, if she were, the decision would be made on the warm front of collective bias; she played entirely too rough to be considered the co to your captain. And the girls would have a riot.

You lean into Mei, squinting your eyes with inquiry. “What’s in the bag?”

Stubbornly, she shook her head. “I’m not telling you until we take off.”

“You say that like I’m gonna snitch on you, or something.” You bunch your eyebrows together. “I would never… As long as I have in on it.” A snicker fell from your lips, and she playfully shoved you.

“I don’t wanna tell you now because then you’ll just ditch me to sit with Ellie… Whenever she gets here.” Mei pursed her heart-shaped lips, looking through the oval window. She hid behind her words a bit, but you could feel the genuineness peeking through her skin.

An empathetic smile spread onto your lips, gleaming at her. It was always a soft feeling to be liked and appreciated. What a page-turner from the night before. “I already told you that I was gonna sit with you… I wouldn’t go back on my word. Swear.” You held out your pinky-finger, bending it to get her attention.

She narrowed her honey eyes, taking your pinky with hers, releasing a sigh. “Fine…” Mei released your pinky, peering over her seat for prying ears. She leaned toward your ear, and you waited with a slight grin of anticipation. “My sister’s boyfriend sells weed, so she got us fourteen grams to split— but only for the seniors, duh.”

You glance at her. “That can’t be it— your bag weighs a ton.”

“There’s two bottles of Mad Dog 20/20, and the rest of the weight should be my clothes…” She says, looking up at the ceiling in thought.

Your jaw dropped, blinking at her. She had two bottles of Mad Dog 20/20… You never took her for a girl who thrived under rebellion. “Mei, holy shit—” Did her parents know about this?

“What are ya’ll whispering about?” A familiar, raspy voice speaks. Immediately, she caught your attention, causing you to swivel you head around.

“Ellie, where the hell have you been?” Quickly, your attention was diverted—purposely, changing the subject from the items Mei had brought. Sometimes, she had the tendency to be late; and every time it drove you up a wall. “We were told to be here by a certain time for a reason. We’re on a schedule.” You nagged, ignoring the soft kisses she was plotting along your forehead.

She chuckled against your skin before speaking. “Last minute, we had to pick up Riley—”

“My bad!” The brown-skinned girl interjected, raising up a hand while she got situated in her seat toward the back of the plane.

“And some morning traffic picked up— this isn’t my fault. Plus, I bought you some tea!” Ellie offers up a warm cup, holding it in front of you. “It’s lavender.” She grinned.

Your eyes lit up to the drink in front of you, taking the warm cup with quick fingers. “Ugh, I love you…” The mumbled words tumbled from your lips before I could catch them. Every proclamation of love you gave to Ellie was all to yourself, or Dina because she knew about the most when it came to your relationship.

Her olive eyes widened, lips parting in genuine shock. For a moment the world went silent, and neither of you spoke. The process of saying I love you in an environment that wasn’t her bedroom, was an odd feeling. It modeled after the uncomforting bite of a crisp, winter morning—poking at your flushed, sensitive skin.

“Awkward…” Aisha poked her head above her seat, and you shoot her a glare.

Coach Tess Servopoulos walked into the plane, which automatically settled the team. Henry and Sam followed after her, finding their seats somewhere in the middle. Abby waved at Henry, reaching to dap his hand as a greeting.

And she wants to pretend that she’s not lesbian.

Just as she does so, the assistant coach walks steps into the plane, nodding his head curtly at those who spared him a glance. Mel jumped onto her knees in her seat, to wave at him.

Ellie scratched the back of her neck. “I’m assuming you’re sitting with Mei— hey, Mei.” She awkwardly waved.

“Hey, Ellie.” She kindly smiled, bending her index finger at the auburn-haired player.

As you held your warm cup, your skin wrinkled between your eyebrows with internal confusion. Did she not love you? Was this a bad time say that—did you say too much, too fast, too loud? Holy fuck. “Yeah, I am…” You respond, distantly, attempting to meet her eyes but you couldn’t fully.

“Cool, uhm, I’ll be back there,” She juts her thumb toward the pair of seats her best friend was settling in. “With Riley… Uh, maybe Mei and I can switch sometime after take-off…?”

“Maybe… I might be asleep, though…” You scratch your eyebrow, pressing your lips into an awkward smile.  

“Oh,” Ellie pursed her lips, chewing on the skin inside of her mouth.

“Yeah… You should probably go find your seat— take-off should be any minute now.” You found a way to blink at her. The auburn-haired player chortled, nodding her head. Her cheeks had reddened from your undignified confession, but with your sudden coldness, she felt the need to retaliate with frustration. A scoff left her plush lips as she stepped away from you, down the aisle. “Thanks for the tea!” You raised the cup, turning your head to face the leather in front of you.

Mei bored her eyes into the side of your face the moment Ellie left. “What the hell was that?”

“As if I would know…” You casted your eyes to the cup in your hands, feeling its warmth.

“I’ve known you guys for a long time…” Mei began, puffing air through her lips. “I thought you were the one with the concerns.”  

Mei Hawkins had known about your reservations with your sexuality and was one of the few people to understand why you felt that way. She wasn’t a lesbian or thought of women the way you did but she could empathize. Growing up in Jackson wasn’t always the easiest for her either. Her dark, often chained, fish-netted appearance was always a topic of discussion.

“Me too… I don’t know what the hell that was about.” You frowned, scrunching your eyebrows. Ellie has never acted like that before. The moment your louder with your adoration, wether it was on purpose or not, she quivered away. It was such a discomfort that it made your skin itch.

“Maybe, she was just surprised. I love you is kind of big…”

“I’ve already said it before. There’s no reason for her to be so surprised.” You curtly added, intently peering at your friend. Eyes glinting with a shell of worry. For a moment, you thought your eyes were welling up with tears, heating up behind blinking eyelids.

Before the plane took off, the head coach stood up to speak. She demanded that they were to behave the whole flight, be kind to the two attendants, and don’t cause a stir. The girls acknowledged her word all together, nodding their heads, and speaking the saying ‘heard’ in unison.

Within moments the plane finally took off with an unnerving shake of the vessel.

As it rumbled along the track, and gradually lifted off the ground, your stomach folded. Mei had reached for your hand, clenching it with a firm vice. You placed your other hand over hers, puffing air from your lips. Flights weren’t your favorite thing in the world, but your fear wasn’t as great as hers. Under the light weight of her hand, you could feel her trembling. What happened to her aunt must’ve really frightened her—phobia’s truly know how to bury its roots within a person.

Once you were in the air, you dropped her hand, not before massaging her palm, comfortingly. Soon enough, the attendants were walking down the aisle offering snacks and drinks. You were still good on drinks, considering your tea, but a bag a chips wouldn’t hurt. You weren’t hungry, but you offered to share with Mei. To get her mind off the fact that you were floating in the air in a heavy machine.

Within the next few hours, Mei was the first to fall asleep. She swallowed some allergy medication, probably something to help her sleep, and slumped against the window. You tried to sleep but the idea of Ellie being ashamed of loving you bothered your mind. Sure, it was a thought of insecurity, but she’s never done that before. Has she finally had enough of your tiresome ways? If so, you’d understand. That wouldn’t negate the fact that it would still hurt, though.

However, it wouldn’t make sense. She had just admitted to committing to Notre Dame… Because they had the major she wanted, but also, for you. You were confused, and overwhelmed. Perhaps, it was the flight that was making your brain run slow and obsessively.

There was slight turbulence that made you shut your eyes, holding onto the arm of your seat. But it wasn’t enough to completely freak you out—until the shaking got worse. A flight attendant was walking down the aisle, collecting trash into a bag with a kind smile. Another turbulent bump occurred, causing her to run face first into the wall leading to the pit.

After that, there wasn’t much reaction time to laugh or wonder if she was all right.

The private plane began to wave side to side in the air. Beside you, Mei was startled awake with wide eyes. “What the fuck is happening?”

You couldn’t respond because your eyes were stuck on the attendant. Blood had secreted from a wound the accident caused. Her forehead dribbling with thick, crimson blood. Then, the plane dipped in the air, dramatically.

There was a muffled sound of your seat partner calling your name, but your ears had tuned it out while chaos began to nest within the aircraft. Screaming, wailing, yells for order happened all at once.

Masks dropped from the ceiling, but as you began plummeting from the highest point in the sky, you froze. Hastily, Coach Servopoulos appeared, placing the masks over you and Mei’s face as you both panicked in different ways.

Unexpectedly, a hole materialized in the side of the front of the plane, peeling its mechanics away every passing moment. The pressure sucked the head coach out of it, right it front of you. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you released sobs of trepidation.

Mei was right. She had every reason to fear airplanes—but you hated that she was right. It seemed to be your final moments; you peer at her, reaching for her arm, deciding to cling to her. Somehow, your life flashed before your eyes. The moments you shared with Ellie, the moments you hid from the world in the hopes to be seen as normal. What a fucking waste of time.

With Mei in your arms, you shut your eyes, tightly. To brace for the impact of the earth. However, that was something you never got—well, while you were conscious.

In its plummet, sometime between the crash onto the ground and breaking down of its parts, yours and Mei’s seats had been sucked out of the same hole in the wall that Tess had. When it happened, your body shut down out of fear. And for that, you were subconsciously thankful.

However, when your eyes fluttered open after the fall… To your shock, you were hovering over the ground. Moist soil, covered in green leaves, was the only thing in your line of sight. Birds poked at the back of your head, pinching at your skin. Anxiously, you fanned them away.

There was a pressure pulled against your lower stomach, keeping you suspended in the air. You released a groan, reaching for the tightness restricting your lower abdomen. It was the belt of your seat, still locked into the gear that was connected to the cushion. Mindlessly, you tugged at it, dizzy from the fall and the oxygen being squeezed out of you.

When your thumb found the release button, you yelped as you dropped from your suspension, hitting the ground with a thud. Your arms barely braced your fall, causing you to fall face first into the dirt, getting a mouthful of soil.

Its dry, tanginess shocked your senses—waking you up from the trance that had enveloped you. You coughed it up, rubbing your tongue along the fabric of your shirt. “Oh, my God…” You muttered, leaning back onto your knees, taking in the endless environment that surrounded you. Slender stalks of trees went on for miles before you, and it set fear into your muscles.

Mei.

Just then, you gained the memory of the crash. The shutting down of the engine, a hole being blown into the side of the aircraft, the screaming and wailing—you crashed in the woods, but where? You were in a fucking plane crash!

“Mei!” You called for her, rasping, attempting to stand to your feet. You wobbled, scratching your sore throat. But, as you pivoted on your feet, you didn’t have to search far for your seat buddy. Your eyes widened at the sight, lips parting to erupt a horrified shriek.

Her body was strung up, caught in thick branches. Her warm, hazel eyes were wide open, frozen in a state of fear—looking at you. A branch was impaling her chest, propping her body up like a piece of meat on a skewer. It was the same branch that your seat was attached to; the one you fell from.

Your hands covered your mouth in horror, falling back onto your knees. “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry…” You chanted, leaning into the ground, rocking your body to soothe yourself. Not that it was working. If you could climb the tree to take her down, you wouldn’t have enough strength to pry her from the branch. You couldn’t help her.

Then, the thought of everyone else flooded your mind. “Oh, my God— Ellie…” You whined, wiping your face that was getting covered in more dirt by the second. If something had happened to her… You wouldn’t know what to do. You’ve never been one for suicidal thoughts, but the idea would entice you.

For a moment, you couldn’t help but panic, imagining the worst. What if she was the one strung up like Mei—you wouldn’t be able to take it. The image of that flashed behind your eyelids, causing a cry to emit from your lips. Please, don’t be dead.

The smell of smoke and gas wafted into your nostrils, causing you to sit up. It must’ve been the plane.

Boom!

The sound of an explosion startled you, but it sounded close by. You refused to be alone—out in the middle of nowhere—so, you straightened up. You stood to your feet, dusting the dirt from your shorts. With a final glance to the fallen Mei, you pressed your fingers to your lips, sending a kiss her way. I’m sorry. Internally, you made a promise to never forget her because that was all you could do. She succumbed to one of her greatest fears—what a tragic way to meet one’s end.

However, you had a team to locate, despite the looming temptation of death looking you right in the eye—for the sake of self-preservation, and for the sake of proving to yourself that you weren’t alone in the torture that was the grief nesting inside of you.

taglist: @sawaagyapong, @violetszn, @vxsellie, @vahnilla, @cherryvinyl-777, @aphrodyk3, @lovinglynny.

[ellieismybbg]

[ellieismybbg]

soooo what was this bitch doing for four yearsss???

No one hmu genuinely heartbroken about what they did to my baby mama 😞😞😞

Like why’d they take away muscle mommy??? Actual HOMOPHOBIA!!!

Baby I am so so sorry I will avenge you ✊✊✊

[ellieismybbg]

yeah at this point i can't even beat the 'mean lesbian' stereotypes, i want men the FUCK out of our spaces, stop invalidating our sexualities, and leave lesbian characters the fuck alone, no i don't care if you whine and cry. 'um ur excluding us!!' stay excluded, please i'm begging you.

[ellieismybbg]

— come a little closer

hockey jock!vi x tutor!reader, fluff / humor / angst / kinda slowburn / smut (18+ mdni!), wc: 16k+ [buckle your seatbelts bc i could not shut the fuck up about vi if i wanted to !]

synopsis: you’re many things; an exemplary student, quiet and well-mannered, loved immensely by those who bother to get to know you, but most importantly, the newfound object of superstar athlete vi’s every affection. or, in other words, hockey jock!vi is lowkey a loser, atrociously down bad, and will stop at nothing to make you hers.

content warnings: language (duh), brief mentions of familial issues, latent insecurity, miscommunication & lack of communication, kissing, groping, SEX! mdni, seriously, i’ll THROW UP!, more specifically fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving), spitting, makeup sex idk, just good old fashioned lesbian BANGING! also! jazz cabbage, lets pretend for the sake of this au that student athlete’s don’t get tested bc i NEED hockey jock!vi to hotbox reader PLS.

fic soundtrack: i could imagine —alina baraz /snooze — sza /tonight — summer walker / pressure — james vickery + sg lewis / wish that i could — umi

author’s note: of course it’d be arcane s2 that resurrects me from my almost yearlong hiatus...pls enjoy this fic even though i’m pretty rusty; she’s been cooking in the drafts for weeks T-T i’ll be answering some (very long overdue) asks and chatting with you guys <3 and finally, this shit is barely proofread bc my brain is fried lol

main masterlist | arcane masterlist

VI HAS A HUGE PROBLEM.

One that supersedes every issue she’d ever given weight to in all of her four (and a half) years of university. Is way larger than twice-a-day practices on and off the ice that go hand-in-hand with studying so hard to make sure that her grades don’t slip a fraction. Probably way bigger than the fact that her little sister’s graduating high school soon and she’s trying her absolute best to be as great a role model as she can despite wanting to crack under the pressure. And most definitely bigger than her favorite on-again-off-again fling, Cait Kiramann, who’s rare to come by these days.

Vi has a huge problem, and quite frankly, it’s you.

In hindsight, she’s been relatively good at overlooking you, not that it’d been intentional to begin with, but Vi knows a lot of people. Too many, she feels sometimes. So it's easy for you to slip through the cracks when everyone’s vying for even a shred of her attention.

Perhaps it’s what piques her interest when your orbits finally do collide. Because, admittedly, you know all about Vi. Know that she’s probably one of the most valuable players on the uni’s hockey team (she’s an absolute beast on the ice). Also know that she’s a biomedical physics major and actually incredibly smart. But most of all, you know that not only is Violet a flirt, she’s a player.

Not necessarily that you’ve ever really been on the receiving end, but mostly because her reputation precedes her and you’ve seen it all from a distance. Can't not when the decorated hockey star is such a charmer whether she intends to be or not. Vi has girls both certain and questioning stumbling for a single glance.

You often think it’s pitiful, but it’s not like it’s really your problem.

Until it is.

It all starts at The Afterparty.

Hours after a big victory in the first game of three that solidifies whether the university hockey team participates in the championships, Violet is the star of tonight’s celebration.

She’d sunk the winning shot, and for that she’s being poured shot after celebratory shot. By eleven she’s practically hammered and it’s when her teammate, Ellie, and the captain, Abby, finally show up.

The three of them together, drunk, is like a minefield of obnoxious laughter, dirty innuendos, and rowdy behavior.

And for a while it’s funny, has Vi feeling like she’s on cloud nine, but eventually, the drunken high begins to evaporate and she starts to feel a little overwhelmed.

The spotlight shifts and even though Vi typically preens under the attention, she’s grateful to finally breathe.

With a plastic cup full of water, she’s sliding the back door open and stepping out onto the back patio to take in the cool air for a breather.

She makes a move towards the stairs, but nearly jumps out of her skin when she registers the silhouette at the base of the steps.

“Jesus, fuck,” Vi hisses to herself. “You scared the shit outta me.”

You don’t even spare her a glance over your shoulder, just take a sip from your drink.

“Sorry,” you hum passively.

She catches her breath, doesn’t even bother to ask permission as she drops all of her weight next to you.

The step creaks under pure muscle.

Her strong legs stretch out, elbows settling back against the step up as she waits. And waits. And waits.

The amount of silence that lapses is unusual, uncharacteristic for Vi, especially so because people are typically babbling enough to fill the void when it comes to her.

But you just sit there, nursing your beer and staring up at the stars. The moon hangs half in the sky, softly illuminating the planes of your features.

It’s her first good look at your face and Vi’s definitely drunk, but the immediate thought that comes to her mind is pretty, pretty, pretty. Undeniably and painfully pretty. And not Caitlyn pretty, the only girl she’s ever really used as a benchmark, but intimidatingly so in your own right. Makes her swallow hard, throat bobbing as she watches you unapologetically.

“It’s rude to stare, Violet,” you say simply, eyes finally flitting to meet hers.

Her breath catches in her throat, earthy flecks dancing in your moonlit irises. God, your eyes. Framed by thick lashes and round as you look up at her.

“You know who I am?” she asks stupidly as if point fives of her face aren’t blown up into memes and plastered all over the house.

“Who doesn’t?” you ask, breathing a puff of humorless laughter as you crush the can in your ringed fingers.

And perhaps you got her there, but Vi’s feeling exceptionally small under your gaze despite usually filling out a room. Something about you makes her shrink.

“I— fuck,” Vi stumbles, cheeks red because you’re looking at her with an indecipherable gleam in your gaze that has her squirming. “What’s your name?”

She cringes at herself, rolls the piercing in her nose once, twice, for comfort.

You laugh again, a little more genuine this time because, from a distance, the athlete’s usually so suave, undeniably gorgeous and composed. Right now, the girl in front of you only ticks one of those boxes.

“________,” you offer.

She weighs the name on her tongue, decides she likes it a lot, and tries to shake off whatever this feeling you’re giving her is.

“And you go to school here?” she asks.

You nod once.

“Neuroscience, fourth year.”

“Huh, we’re in similar fields, but I’ve never seen you around,” Vi observes. Because she’s certain she’d bookmark a face like yours, absolutely no doubt about it.

“We had organic chemistry together sophomore year with Dr. Talis,” you say matter-of-factly, like you’re not blowing her mind right now. “And I’m auditing Medarda’s biometry class this semester.”

Vi’s floored.

“Wait, wait, but...” She’s trying to piece the puzzle together, but her brain’s still a little fuzzy, equal parts from the alcohol, but also because she’s caught a whiff of your perfume and you smell so sweet.

“I pop in every once in a while,” you tell her. “But I tutor in that time slot every Tuesday and Thursday, only really go when I don’t have any appointments.”

“Hold on, this is nuts,” Violet says, body easing to face you. You flinch because she doesn’t realize she’s practically yelling. “There’s no way, I definitely would’ve remembered you if that was the case.”

You hum, corners of your lips quirking as you shrug your shoulders.

“Doubt it,” you counter. “I’m nothing particularly spectacular.”

“Nothing particularly spectacular,” Vi repeats under her breath.

And under normal circumstances, she’d be flirting up a storm right now, trying to charm her way into getting you to bite, but this is one of the first semblances of normalcy she’s experienced in a while. No ulterior motives, no exaggerated kindness, no outright asking her to fuck.

Suddenly your phone lights up in your lap and you’re turning your attention to the device.

“DD duties call,” is all you say as you make a move to stand up.

No, this can’t be all she gets from you tonight. Not when she’s been narrowly missing someone like you for the past four years and you’re just now coming to light.

The dormant liquid courage bubbles and Vi’s gently grabbing your wrist to pull you to a stop.

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” she asks, steely eyes liquid as she stares up at you.

You eye the scar on her lip, gaze lingering there before flitting to meet hers.

“Maybe.”

Vi decides that she needs to see you again.

You’d left her with crumbs this past Friday night and she’d spent the better part of the weekend trying (and failing) to cross paths with you again.

“Jesus, you’re down bad,” Ellie chuffs Monday morning on their walk to the campus coffee shop.

“You don’t understand,” Vi defends. “She’s so...so...”

“So?”

“Different, I dunno,” Vi sighs, fiddling with the strap of her backpack as they walk. “We didn’t even talk about much, but that was the most normal I’ve felt around someone in a while.”

Her teammate snorts.

“Probably the gayest thing I’ve heard you say,” Ellie deadpans. “She isn’t immediately trying to munch and you’re already in love. Pathetic.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Vi scoffs as they approach the coffee shop, inside packed full with half-functioning college students so early in the morning. “Trust me, if you met her, you’d—”

The words die in her throat because halle-fucking-lujah, the universe or god, or whatever has answered her every prayer this past weekend as she clocks you a few paces ahead in line.

Ellie follows her friend’s line of vision to find exactly what she’s staring at and she lets out a low whistle when her gaze finds your frame.

From a completely aesthetic standpoint, she can see why Vi’s immediately hooked.

“Hah,” she makes a noise in her throat. “Okay, so maybe it makes sense.”

Vi can’t help but stare because, if it were possible, you were far prettier under the warm lighting of the cafe’s ambiance. The curls of your hair frame your face beautifully and it’s so fucking cute how focused you are on your phone.

“Hate to break it to you, though. That girl’s way out of your league,” Ellie says like it’s common knowledge.

“Wow, way to boost my ego,” Vi mutters drily.

“Just being realistic,” Ellie argues. “If you bag her, she’s easily the hottest girl you’ve been with.”

And Vi can’t really contest that, not when the proof’s in the fucking pudding.

Her body’s moving of its own accord and before she can register her own actions, she’s mumbling quiet s’cuse me’s under her breath as she squeezes between patrons to close a bruised hand over your shoulder.

You nearly jump out of your skin, fumbling with your phone as an earbud falls out.

“Shit, sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Vi says quickly.

Your gaze snaps to her, brows furrowing almost imperceptibly before your expression settles.

“Violet,” you acknowledge.

And she realizes that she didn’t really have a game plan coming up to you so abruptly. Had been so focused on actually just seeing you again, that she hadn’t thought through the rest of it.

The way you stare up at her is thoroughly disarming because she doesn’t have the shield of night or alcoholic courage to carry her through it.

“Can I help you?” you ask, but not unkindly.

“Oh, uh, I...” She chances a glance over her shoulder to find that Ellie is watching her from a few customers away, eyebrow cocked and smirk testing. She word vomits before she can think of a coherent thought. “You mentioned tutoring...the last time we talked.”

You don’t even bat an eye.

“I did.”

“You’re also auditing Medarda’s biometry class.”

“I am.”

“I’m...I’m not really doing too hot in Medarda’s right now,” Vi says, brain nearly short-circuiting and freezing up because, lie! She’s doing phenomenally in Medarda’s session and, truthfully, she’s just downright scared to ask you to hang out.

Especially when you look up at her like that.

You shift and she’s swallowing down around nothing.

“Hmm, can’t have that, can we?” you hum.

Vi could melt.

“No,” she breathes out a laugh. “Can’t.”

“You can sign up for a slot through the library’s website,” you say after you weigh the thought.

Vi’s pausing, staring at you like a deer caught in the headlights.

“So I can get paid?” you fill in.

“Oh, right,” Vi chokes. “Right.”

You give her a soft smile before plugging your earbud back in, leaving Vi to rejoin her obviously amused friend.

“You’re fucking joking!”

The librarian gives you and your incredulous roommate a look from the circulation desk and you return it with a sheepish smile from where you’re tucked by a wall of looming floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Maddie,” you whisper.

“You’re telling me that The Violet asked you personally to tutor her?” Maddie asks you, leaned over the tabletop with wide eyes.

“Yeah, cornered me at Brew House this morning and asked me to tutor her in Medarda’s class.”

“Just that?” she asks. “Nothing else?”

You look around in disbelief.

“Uh, yeah?” you scoff. “What else would she want?”

“What else would she��� are you serious?” Maddie leans back in her seat, arms crossing over her chest as she gives you a plain look. “You know all about Vi, you’re actually gonna play stupid?”

“Oh, come on.” You roll your eyes. “You’ve seen the girls Violet’s fucked, right? Kiramann? The blonde from the tennis team? She’s got a type and you know it.”

It’s Maddie’s turn to roll her eyes and you see the exasperated groan she’s staving off.

“None of that self-deprecating bullshit—”

“It’s not self-deprecating!” you argue. “Not everyone wants to fuck Violet, Maddie. Put me in the number one spot.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Don’t start.”

“All I’m saying is that anyone with eyes can see that Vi’s hot as fuck. That being said, you’re also hot as fuck. Not only that, but rumor has it, she gives the most toe-curling—”

You’re rolling your eyes again, gaze fluttering out the window momentarily only to find that, speak of the devil, Violet’s approaching the library with a skip in her step.

Maddie stops her spiel to trace your gaze and nearly falls out of her seat when she finds the object of your conversation is advancing, fast.

“No fucking way,” you whisper to yourself, pulling up your tutoring log on your tablet to find that, yup, Violet has most-definitely taken your advice and signed up for a tutoring slot.

If the time reads correctly, you’ve got three minutes before she’s due to be taking Maddie’s seat.

Your friend is grinning at you mischievously, stuffing her backpack quickly to vacate the space across from you.

“Un-fucking-believable,” you scoff, slumping back in your seat.

“Tell me how it goes,” she giggles, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she stands.

“Maddie,” you warn.

“Love you, see you at home!”

Violet’s strolling into the library just as Maddie leaves through the other doors and try as you might make yourself small in the open air near the research center, her gaze falls on you as soon as she enters.

“Hey,” she breathes once breaches your vicinity.

“Hi.”

A moment lapses before you’re nodding towards the seat before you.

“We can get started whenever you’re ready.”

Right. Right! Vi’s mentally cringing, pulling the chair out with a squeak and dropping onto the worn cushion.

Her eyes are locked, watching as you pull the biometry textbook from your little messenger bag.

“Any particular areas you’re struggling in?” you ask, flipping to a clean sheet of paper in your notepad and clicking open your pen.

Vi combs her brain, tries to think of anything she’s not really grasping in Medarda’s class, but she’s been acing all the exams with flying colors, so she spits out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Logistic regression, probably,” she answers.

“In relation to...?” You tilt your head and Vi’s breath is hitching.

“The Confusion Matrix,” she answers, even though she knows all about it.

It’s only when you start breaking it down from the bare bones that she realizes that she could listen to you talk for-probably-ever.

You obviously have a great understanding of the subject if the way you deconstruct the relationship between sensitivity and specificity (or whatever the fuck) is anything to go by, and she doesn’t realize that she hasn’t even blinked until you’re glancing up at her.

“Am I making any sense?” you ask softly, taking in the almost confused look on Violet’s face.

“Huh?”

Vi snaps out of it, cheeks coloring pink when she notes the way you straighten in your seat.

“Am I going too fast?”

“No, no!’ Vi practically shouts before chancing an embarrassed gaze around the library to find a few wandering eyes. She clears her throat and tries to relax. “No, you’re doing great. I get it.”

You don’t seem convinced, but the faster you get through the material, the faster Violet can leave and you can finally catch your breath.

Because maybe Maddie’s a little right. That while you know, one hundred percent, without-a-doubt, that you and Violet are cut from two different cloths and that you ultimately won’t mesh, there’s still a sliver of want that settles somewhere confined in the pit of your gut.

You don’t know how long you continue before you notice that sun has begun to set in the horizon, but Vi’s effort is unwavering. She’s probably on her tenth practice problem by now and so far, she’s only flubbed once.

You decide to fold your cards first.

“O-kay,” you say, sucking in a sharp breath as you roll your shoulders and squeeze your hands shut so tight your knuckles crack. “This is a good stopping point, don’t you think?”

No, Vi could keep going forever if it meant hearing you talk all night, but the little G-shock wristwatch winks the time and she realizes that the two of you have been going at it for going on two hours and you’re probably exhausted.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so long,” Vi says sheepishly. “Thanks a lot for your help, I...”

You look up from where you’re shuffling your papers together, pausing when she hesitates.

“I really appreciate you. I know you probably help dozens of people every week and—”

She stops talking when she sees you crack what seems to be the first genuine smile she could get out of you since Friday.

“It’s my job, Violet,” you tell her. “I’m happy to help.”

And she’d done well enough during the tutoring session, had a successful run with the practice problems. You were confident it was just a one and done. Perhaps served as a review for the upcoming exam Medarda had posted on the class page.

But then you see her name in the final time slot on Thursday, don’t really think much of it until you���re tabbing to next week’s schedule for shits and giggles. Tuesday and Thursday are booked through again, her name highlighted in yellow.

You minimize the calendar and pull up the aggregate schedule only to find that every 4 o’clock slot every Tuesday and Thursday’s been booked until the end of the semester.

You refresh for good measure.

“Oh, you’re so shitting me.”

You don’t know what kind of joke this is, if Violet thinks that this is funny, but you’re not amused.

Especially when you’re stalking all the way to the athletic hall, ignoring the wolfish stares from shameless student athletes to whip into the women’s hockey team’s reserved conditioning space.

You find her benching near the center of the room, Abigail Anderson spotting her while the rest of the team engages in various workouts and exercises.

A hush ripples over the weight room as you approach the hockey star, standing at the end of the bench where her knees are bent. One of Abigail Anderson’s eyebrows quirk up as you stand there with your hands on your hips and you hope the chill that runs down your spine as she checks you out doesn’t visibly vibrate your body.

When the barbell nearly crushes Vi’s chest on her last rep, Abby’s quick to help her re-rack and takes the biggest step back as Vi sits up.

Her expression falls and her face pales when she locks eyes with you, your features severe and gaze stony.

“Oh, hey,” she squeaks.

Truthfully, she hadn’t really pinned you as the type to be confrontational. Thought she’d have enough time to build a strong enough story as to why she booked out all of your tutoring sessions when in actuality she panicked when Ellie started grilling the fuck out of her about being a fucking pussy and begging her to just ask you out.

“You have some explaining to do, Violet.”

And she should definitely be embarrassed, not at all turned on, but she can’t help it as she gulps. Because when you stand before her like this, she can easily admit that she’d die for a private version of the view.

The silence in the weight room is palpable and you want to back down, but if this is some running joke and Vi’s going to make a show of humiliating you in front of her teammates, then you’d give her a show.

“Violet.”

Someone in the back snickers, another whistles, and Vi’s cheeks go red.

She’s standing, sweaty hands closing around your biceps as she spins you around and quickly guides you out of the conditioning room and out of her teammates’ line of ogling sight.

“V—”

“I’m sorry,” Violet splutters. “I’m just not really confident in Medarda’s class right now and I don’t trust myself to study alone, plus you’re a really good tutor and—”

“You do realize that those tutoring sessions are added to your tuition, right?” you ask incredulously. “It’s fifteen dollars an hour.”

Vi’s smile is crooked.

“That’s what my scholarship’s for,” she grins.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit excessive?” you try again. “I feel that before an exam for a little refresh is fair, but this would be like relearning the material after every class, all over again.”

“If it’s taught by you, I’ll take it,” Vi says quickly, and you pause because what does she mean by that?

You don’t really have much rebuttal left even though you’d marched up here with a fire under your ass. Vi’s looking down at you with a softened edge in her gaze and she’s wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants and sweat-soaked grey tank that reveals swathes of ink that curls up her arms and disappears under the fabric of her shirt.

She breathes out a small laugh when she notices the way your eyes dance.

“Anymore concerns, cupcake?”

Your gaze snaps to hers and her grin widens when she sees you fidget, little pet name obviously eliciting a semblance of a reaction from you.

“N-No,” you stammer.

“Great, see you tomorrow?“

You swallow.

“Okay,” you agree. “See you tomorrow.”

Violet pops into the library at four on the dot.

Her hair’s wet from an obvious shower and you smell her, warm like honey and cedar as she takes the seat across from you.

“Afternoon, cupcake,” she greets, slinging her backpack into the seat next to her.

You give her a warning look, but she just flashes you a toothy smile and nods towards the opened biometry textbook before you.

“What’s the lesson today, Teach?”

And this feels an awful lot like mocking, but you can’t be sure, not when Vi’s been somewhat respectful, sweet even.

“What do you know about the the sigmoid function?” you probe.

“Jack shit,” she laughs.

And maybe you’d find it endearing if the entirety of the situation wasn’t still absolutely mindfucking you at moment.

“Can I ask you something, Violet?” you ask, leaning back in your seat as you cross your arms to level her with as an intimidating look as you can.

“Sure, anything.”

“Are you messing with me?” you ask. “Is this some joke you and your friends are playing? Because I can’t really think of an outcome that would be funny.”

And you’d like to say that the look of horror on Violet’s face is consolation enough, but you know how being loved and being popular can make people act sometimes.

Vi contemplates telling you the truth, that she’s too chickenshit to ask you out, that getting close to you in any other way scares the fuck out of her. That maybe getting you to tutor her will segue into some form of friendship that’ll allow her to ease her way in. And maybe she’s going about it the hard way, but maybe Vi also likes a challenge.

“No jokes, just bad at statistics,” she says weakly.

You’re silent for way longer than comfort allows before you turn your attention to the textbook and Vi’s letting out a breath she doesn’t realize she’s holding.

“Fine,” you give in. “Let’s talk about sigmoid function and practice some applications...”

Vi’s happy to listen, goes through your preselected practice problems with ease (and maybe fucks up a value or two here and there to really sell her need for you). But the sun’s going down again, and it’s nearing six when Vi folds her hand this time around.

It comes in the form of her stomach grumbling in the emptying library and she looks up at you in embarrassment as you crack the first smile of the evening.

“Hungry?” you ask.

“Starving,” she replies dramatically, leaning so far back in her seat, her knees bump yours under the table.

Your toes curl at the contact, heart skipping when she doesn’t make a move to reposition herself.

“Have you eaten yet?” she asks, eyes looking everywhere but yours.

“Not since breakfast,” you admit.

“You like pizza?”

“Only the good kind,” you challenge.

“Beautiful,” Vi hums, shuffling her papers into her textbook and chucking it back into her bookbag. “I know the best place.”

Valentino’s is a hole-in-the-wall right outside of campus, a short walk from the library that Violet leverages as a way to get to know you outside of being lectured about statistical curves and correlation.

“Did you grow up around here?” Vi asks once the waiter sets two glasses of water down between the two of you.

You shake your head.

“No, grew up on the east coast and decided I needed a break from my life there,” you admit easily.

It’s almost as if the facade of professionalism fades away, melting to reveal you.

Vi’s desperate for more.

“As in?”

You look at her for a moment, wonder if you should divulge because you’re not really sure if Vi would get it, but she watches you like she’s hanging onto every single word you say, so you’re spilling.

“My dad died when I was little, left me and three other siblings with my Mom,” you offer. “And I love my siblings. Love my mom. She’s been a great parent, better than great actually, but most of our family disowned me when I came out and it was easier to run away than to deal with it.”

Violet’s expression falls, a furrow settling deep between her brows.

“Wow, I’m, uh, I’m really sorry to hear that,” she says, and she sounds sincere. A long moment lapses before she’s adding, “for what it’s worth, I think that’s very brave of you.”

And you seem a little surprised at the sentiment.

“Thanks.” You smile. “That’s sweet of you to say.”

Vi could turn to goo in this dimly lit booth, stained-glass wall sconce casting a warm glow over your pretty face.

“You—” She sniffs, changes the subject because she doesn’t know if she can do this on an empty stomach. “You like pineapple on your pizza?”

“Oh yeah,” you confirm proudly. “It’s a hill I’ll die on, I’m not sorry.”

“God, marry me now.”

She doesn’t realize she says it out loud until you’re bursting into a fit of laughter on your side of the booth.

“So this is something we can agree on?” you ask, head tilting in the way that makes Vi want to grab your face and taste you.

“Oh yeah,” she parrots instead. “One hundred percent.”

Valentino’s becomes routine just as much as Vi seeing you at four every Tuesday and Thursday becomes routine. It’s always after the Thursday session (because they have a three dollar slice from 6 to close) that you and Vi cram yourselves in the same booth near the kitchen and giggle over half a Hawaiian pizza.

“...And my little sister blew up her science project in the fourth grade—”

You choke on your bite, eyes wide as Violet recalls Powder’s little mishap that sent the entire gymnasium evacuating despite the tiniest fire.

“Now she’s about graduate and start school for chemical engineering,” she says, obviously proud.

“She seems like a smart girl,” you observe, if the countless stories Violet shares with you is anything to go by.

You figure being related to someone as great as the new friend you’ve made also speaks for itself.

“The smartest,” she agrees. “I’m proud of her.”

“I’m sure she’s proud of you too,” you assure her. “You’re a good big sister.”

And it’s in these moments that Vi realizes that she’s in far, far deeper than she initially gave stock. Because these past few weeks, she realizes that there’s a lot more to your big brain and your pretty face. You’re an attentive listener, way funnier than she could have anticipated, and just a lot more laid back than you let on.

That much she finds out after the two of you graduate from emailing with silly sign-offs to exchanging phone numbers and texting. It starts off rather irregular, a coffee order here and there, maybe a TikTok that Vi swears is funny, you just have to watch it all the way through! But then she starts texting you when she’s bored, when she’s in class, before practice, after. Even pops the question that’s been niggling at her since she met you: on a scale from 1 - 10 how down are you to smoke?

Like cigarettes?

no, weed, dummy.

Oh. Hmm. 7. 10 if I’m drunk.

She could not wipe the smile from her face even if she tried.

And then she gets the invite.

Ellie swears it’s her in.

“Jesus Christ if you even consider me a friend, you’ll bang,” Ellie calls from the couch.

“It’s just tutoring,“ Vi argues.

“Yeah, at her place,” she scoffs. “At least test the waters, maybe cop a feel.”

“You’re a pig,” Vi snorts, making sure her laptop and all of the worksheets Medarda’s assigned over the course of the week is in her backpack.

“You’ve been wet dreaming over this girl for months.”

“Fuck all the way off.” Vi’s face warms because her best friend isn’t necessarily wrong.

You’re too hot for your own good, but you don’t even know it and Vi thinks she could die sometimes. Especially when you wear your favorite pair of jeans, the ones that hug the swell of your ass just right. Or swipe on that shimmery lipgloss she swears makes your mouth look edible.

If you were willing, Vi would be all over you, but thinking about taking advantage of the fact that you trust her enough to invite her into your space feels a little grimy.

“Whatever, bang, don’t bang,” Ellie says nonchalantly. “Blueball yourself for all I care.”

Vi rolls her eyes, slings her bag over her shoulder before sliding on her shoes and leaving her friend on the couch with a resounding click.

You live off-campus, maybe a ten minute drive, in a cozy little complex near the suburbs. Your roommate, Maddie, a chipper blonde with a bob, is all too eager to leave when Vi arrives.

“Hi, sorry we couldn’t meet anywhere else,” you apologize as you let her into your space. “Even if the library wasn’t closed, the vet said I have to monitor Pip for the next 48 hours.”

Vi raises a brow.

“My cat,” you clarify.

“Oh.” Vi doesn’t know why she suddenly feels like she’s intruding as she hesitantly toes off her shoes and follows you down the hall.

But she does take the opportunity to take you in in all your glory; all cozy and cuddly in an oversized sweatshirt, plaid pajama shorts and mismatched egg socks.

Cute. So fucking cute.

You spare her a glance over your shoulder and she’s clearing her throat.

“We don’t have to have a session tonight," she says, stopping at the threshold of the living room. “I would’ve understood if you had to cancel.”

You shake your head, give her a soft smile that has her knees feel like jelly.

“S’okay,” you assure her. “A promise is a promise.”

And you do start off studying, shoulder to shoulder in front of your coffee table, but then Pip crawls from his little hiding spot under the TV console to curiously nose along Vi’s feet and she’s a goner.

“He’s so sweet,” she practically wails as he paws at her thigh and nudges against her arm so that he can climb into her lap.

You warm at the sight, can’t help but snap a picture, much to Violet’s dismay.

“Stop,” she laughs. “That picture can’t see the light of day.”

“Why?” you whine, making a show of climbing onto your wooden coffee table to get a funny top down photo of the hockey star with your cat. “You and Pip look so cute together.”

She feigns a scowl even though her shoulders shake with laughter.

“I have a bad boy image to uphold, sweetheart.”

You snort, reach into her lap to scratch behind Pip’s ear, and her heart melts, body warm from her ears to her toes.

“Is he sick?” she asks cautiously, petting him softly.

“Just a little,” you say. “Something some rest and medicine won’t fix.”

It’s how the two of you end up on the couch, study materials long forgotten as Animal Planet plays in the background. Pip’s moved to lounge atop the covers draped over your lap and you’re blowing your nose into a tissue as an especially sad segment about baby animals being rejected by their mothers finishes.

Vi knows she shouldn’t laugh, but you’re too fucking cute and she can’t help but coo at you.

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” you hiccup.

“What, that you’re a big soft baby?” she teases.

“Vi,” you whimper.

And something in her brain tickles because she can’t recall a time you’d ever called her by her nickname, only ever referred to her as Violet and nothing else.

She resists a smile.

“Okay, okay,” she gives in. “Lets change the subject.”

You make a noise of agreement as you cuddle your sleepy Pip.

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” she says, arm slung over the back of the couch, fingers a hairsbreadth from your figure.

Test the waters, cop a feel.

Vi’s not particularly into the idea, but the opportunity’s right there in the way wisps of your hair falls from its hold. Her fingers move of their own device, tucking the strands behind your ear.

She feels you still for the slightest, most imperceptible of moments, but then you’re relaxing, letting her fingers brush from your ear down to your shoulder, then back to where it rests on the back of the couch.

“You doing anything on Saturday?” she asks, really hopes you’ll say no.

“Not that I know of,” you say without second thought.

Not that you really need to. Your tight circle of friends are all alike, tethered to their hobbies and their homes.

“I have a game on Saturday,” Vi starts, fiddling with a little hole in the cushion. “If you wanted to come.”

You don’t agree or disagree immediately, and Vi’s scrambling to soothe over any potential discomfort.

“You don’t have to if you don’t wanna, of course,” she says quickly. “I just— I thought you might be interested in going and I’d really like to see you there and—”

A small little laugh puffs from your lips.

“Of course I’ll go,” you agree easily.

Vi deflates in relief.

“Great,” she sighs. “Awesome.”

Vi doesn’t know why she invites you. More so, she doesn’t know why she tells her teammates that she’s invited you because now they’re whooping and hollering in the locker room, towel-whipping her and sing-songing that their star player’s gonna get laid.

Doesn’t know why she invites you because as soon as she glides on the ice, she’s searching the stands high and low for your familiar figure. When she clocks you nestled in the middle with your roommate and another friend she vaguely recognizes, her heart’s soaring and her stomach’s twisting in knots.

Vi’s never nervous, but somehow you bring out the worst of it.

It only takes a few moments, though. The blare of the horn snaps her back into her zone and she leaves all the noise off-rink. In this moment, all she knows is cutting ice, dodging the other team’s most aggressive players and sinking shot after shot.

It’s nearing the end of the second period when she finally glances at the score.

5—4.

The opposing team’s giving them a run for their money and this is probably one of the tightest matches they’ve played all season. She takes a moment to find you in the stands again, and you’re right where she left you, eyes already glued to her as you hover over the edge of your seat.

She hadn’t realized it before, but you’ve got her number painted on her face and another surge of warmth layers over the exertion.

You give her a thumbs up and she feels like lightning.

They reset and she’s off, like a streak of light in the night sky, she’s shuffling the puck towards the goal.

Then you see the navy uniform barreling towards her, voice caught in your throat as Vi gives the puck one last shot before that damned Jersey Number Six shoves her so hard, she’s flinging into the rink’s wall.

The horn chugs, signaling the end of the second period and the stands erupt in a ceremonious cheer as the playback reveals that Vi had sunk the puck before time.

“Fuck yeah!” you cry out, shooting to your feet to clap your hands.

Vi ignores the instigating chants to fight, only really pays attention to your little dance of excitement as she shakes off the other player and rejoins her team for intermission.

“Fuck, Vi, you got it bad, huh?” Abigail Anderson’s spearheading the teasing once they all return to the locker room at the end of the game.

Vi’s body heats at the thought, isn’t really in the business of denying it anymore, because, you know what? Yeah. Vi’s got it so fucking bad for you, she doesn’t even know what to do with herself. You’re her first thought, her final prayer, and everything in between.

So all she does he shrug, can’t help the grin that splits her lips as she rubs her towel through her sweat-damp hair.

She’s the first one out of the locker room, dressed in some sweats and a pullover, towel slung around her neck as she steps into the tunnel. Your contact’s pulled up, and she’s ready to fire off a text asking where you want her to meet you, but she stops short to see you already leaned outside of the change room’s doors.

“Hey, cupcake,” she murmurs, smiling hard when she finds the smudged number 5 still chalked on your face.

“Hi, Violet,” you return shyly, hands clasped behind your back.

She hears the telltale whoosh of the locker room doors, the chattering of her teammates as they poke their heads out into the hall to be nosy, but she’s guiding you along, throwing a wink over her shoulder as the two of you fall into step.

“Thank you for coming,” Vi says after a moment. “You being here really meant a lot to me.”

You don’t know if Vi’s always been this sentimental, but just never given the opportunity to showcase it, or if she’s just buttering you up, but you can’t help but beam at her with pearly teeth and dimpled cheeks.

“God, Violet, you were so good!” you say excitedly, a little skip in your step. “You were in the rink, skating circles around them, like this, and like this.”

She bursts into laughter as you start speeding down the tunnel, dodging garbage bins and jumping up into the air to click your heels.

Something falls out of your little fannypack when you land, and Vi’s crouching down to pick up the tulle baggie to find a little beaded bracelet with a gold clasp that reads puck off.

“What’s this?” Vi asks, and you stop your shenanigans to turn your attention to her.

When your expression falters and you’re running back to her at full speed, she’s holding the baggie up just a little too out of reach for you, grin smug.

“Is this for me, sweetheart?” she asks presumptuously, even though her heart’s thrumming hard in her ribcage.

You’re on your tiptoes, chest pressed against hers, and god, please! is all Vi can think when your head tilts up, a little defeated knit between your eyebrows.

She milks the fuck out of whatever this is, arm banding around your waist as she returns the baggie to you.

“Maybe,” you whisper finally.

“Maybe what?” Vi teases.

“Maybe it’s for you,” you respond, free hand coming to rest on her chest.

“And what do I have to do to get it?” she asks, voice low.

It makes your body jolt hard as a shiver slinks down your spine because there she is, the insufferable flirt who knows exactly what to say to have your brain turn to mush.

You seem like you’re contemplating for a moment and Vi’s breath is hitching in her throat, wondering if you’re willing to play this cat and mouse game with her.

You smile, something glinting in your warm eyes.

“Puck off.”

Your giggle is maniacal as you slip away, leaving her temporarily stunned before she chases you down the tunnel. And she should expect your speed, especially because you’ve got legs, but it takes her a moment to catch up with you when her practice bag’s thumping on her back like that. Her calloused fingers are closing around the flesh of your hips in no time and she’s pulling you back into her arms.

“Cough it up, sweetheart,” she huffs.

You whine.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” you counter.

“Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

And you give in because Violet’s made you weak. She’s holding out her wrist as you free the multi-colored bracelet.

You barely clasp the closure in the ring before Violet’s stumbling into you, a big burly girl from the other team shoulder checking the fuck out of her.

“Nice job standing in the middle of the walk way,” she bites.

Violet only snorts a laugh.

“Whatever, good game,” she calls.

Whoever she is, stops, levels Vi with a deadly look before her gaze flits to the bracelet you’ve just fixed around her wrist to you who stands frozen into place as the tension crackles between them.

“Cute,” she observes and your skin prickles. “Let me take her for a spin?”

“Violet,” you warn when her shoulders square and she takes a step forward.

She looks torn between walking away and beating the shit out of whoever this instigator is, but one of her teammates is shoving her along.

“Leave it.”

Whatever that was shatters the moment between the two of you and Vi’s taking in a deep breath as Abby trails behind the two of you.

The girl whistles for good measure and you throw a dirty look over your shoulder.

She winks.

You’ve still yet to find out who hosts these parties, but this time around gives you a weird sense of deja vu as you climb the steps with Maddie in tow.

You and Vi had parted ways at the rink, not before extending you an invite to the celebration later in the evening.

You should come, I can pick you up.

But per usual, DD duties call, and you’d smiled up at her despite the lingering pressure from the prior confrontation and promised her that yes, you’d absolutely be there.

Maddie squeals from the step below as you climb the front porch, breaths coming out in puffs of steam.

“You look so hot,” she says excitedly.

You giggle nervously, sure hope you do because you’re freezing your ass off!

“Yeah?”

Maddie gives you an incredulous look, eyelids powdered with glitter and gaze lined charcoal. She’s looking extra cute tonight too and you know that the two of you could fall into an endless cycle of teasing because a certain someone’s probably inside tonight.

“If she doesn’t fuck you before the night ends, I will,” Maddie teases, and you’re warming unceremoniously at the thought.

Because maybe you’ve been thinking about it a lot more recently despite only going into this trying to get through these tutoring sessions and dipping. Especially as of late now that Vi’s made it a habit to FaceTime you after practice, on your walk to the library, dripping sweat and chest heaving.

You’d always seen the appeal, but now you feel it.

You smooth down your asymmetrical skirt and Maddie steps up to adjust your tits in your lowcut lace blouse just as the door swings open to reveal none other than Violet.

“Oh—” Her voice catches as she takes you in.

Maddie gives your ass a little swat and Vi’s gaze is following the movement as your roommate pushes past her to slip inside.

“I was— I was just about to step out. To, uh, to call you,” she stammers.

You breath out a little laugh.

“Here I am.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Here you are.”

Jesus, fuck Vi could burst into flames right now. Your boots hug your thighs and Violet’s not gonna lie, she really wishes it were her head squeezed between—

“You look...” Hot, so fucking edible, downright fuck— “...really nice.”

You smile, but you can’t help the way your teeth chatters.

“Fuck, shit, you’re probably cold,” she curses, warm hands closing around your shoulders to pull you inside. “Why didn’t you wear a jacket? You’re gonna get sick.”

I wanted you to want me.

“Guess I just forgot,” you say quietly.

She looks like she wants to scold you, but instead, she’s pulling down her coat, a big black work jacket, hanging from the banister of the stairs around your shoulders and you’re relishing the residual warmth that lingers there and her familiar scent.

“Can I get you a cider?” she asks. “It’s still warm.”

It hits you as her fingers curl through yours, that Vi’s truly nothing like what you initially thought. She’s sweet, and she’s respectful, and she’s everything you could ever hope for.

You freeze at the thought, and Vi’s glancing at you when she’s tugged to a stop.

“You okay?” she hums.

Your eyes search her face, gliding over the scar on her lip and the one slit through her eyebrow. The gold hoop pierced through her nose glints under the lowlight and her thick lashes flutter as she looks down at you.

You give her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes because wow, you’re in deep.

“I’m okay,” you assure her, give her fingers a squeeze for good measure.

When she finally secures you a mug of steaming cider, she’s guiding you to her group of friends that occupy the living room.

You only recognize Ellie, her best friend and her roommate, and Abby, the captain. Everyone else is a jumbled mix of names and faces and you stick close to Vi as she settles into the left corner of the couch.

You make a move to sit on the armrest, legs crossed and hands folded around your mug, but Vi’s spreading her legs and pulling you into her lap before you can effectively protest.

Her warmth immediately engulfs you and it takes every ounce of self control not to curl up into a ball in front of all her friends and classmates.

As they recap the game and catch up with each other, you remain hushed, eyes flitting from person to person as they speak. Toes curling whenever Violet’s voice vibrates in her chest as she talks big about sports and the hot teams this season.

You’re caught off caught when Ellie’s directing a question towards you and you barely register.

“What do you like to do?” she asks you.

All eyes audibly shift to where you’re cozied up in Vi’s lap, cider empty and abandoned on the side table.

“Uh.”

Your words are lodged in your throat because you’re so used to talking Vi’s ear off about your interests (namely, Animal Planet and your son Pip), showing her your little craft projects you like to do in front of the television on a weekend evening (you’d taken a break from the scarf / hat combo you were knitting to finish the bracelet you designed for Vi), and yapping about some obscure film you’d watched while finishing said projects.

But here, now, you don’t know what to say. Not when this isn’t your typical crowd and you don’t know what to expect from her friends.

Vi must feel your hesitation because her digits are slipping into her jacket, fingertips ghosting the small of your back as she presses a palm against your spine to smooth the tension there.

It’s okay, is a silent insinuation.

You give her a look from the corner of your eye before you turn your attention back to Ellie.

“I don’t do much,” you offer honestly. “Just starting my old cat lady duties early, I suppose.”

Ellie laughs benevolently.

“You have a cat?”

“Yes, his name’s Pip, and he’s basically my kid.”

“Cute,” Ellie coos. “You got any pictures?”

And you seem to light up, spare Vi one more glance as you dig in her coat pocket to produce your cellphone, charms jangling as you power it back on to show Ellie the lockscreen.

“I contemplated naming him Toothless from—”

“—How To Train Your Dragon!” Abby fills in from across the couch. “That’s such a good ass movie.”

It warms Vi to the bone, seeing you and her friends nerd out. Seeing them put in the effort because they know she likes you and seeing you reciprocate because, well, you’re you, and you just need a little warming up.

She doesn’t know how long you and her friends chat for until you’re shifting a little and turning your attention back to her.

“Can you show me the bathroom, please?”

Her gaze flits to her circle, and they’re smirking, obviously under the impression that this must be some sort of code the two of you concocted.

She ignores them, and most importantly she ignores the way her pulse jumps when you stand from your seat and perch between her legs, offering both of your neatly manicured hands to her.

This is getting fucking ridiculous.

The bathroom is tucked under the stairs near the front of the house and she stands post outside the door as you finish up.

It’s only when you’re poking your head outside the door sheepishly that she stands up straight.

“Can you help me with my zipper?” you ask timidly.

She puffs a laugh, slips in through the space you crack for her to find you holding the two sides of your skirt together.

And she knows she shouldn’t look, but the space allows her to see the pink lace of your panties. She’s shoving her tongue in her cheek, focusing on lining up the seams and pulling up your zipper as you hold the fabric taut.

“Thanks,” you whisper, looking up to see that Vi’s impossibly close to you in this cramped little powder room.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” she croaks, leaning against the counter as you wash your hands.

She thumbs the hem of your skirt absently.

“I like this,” she admits, gaze trailing up to meet yours. “You look pretty.”

Your ears burn, unable to meet the smolder of her steely eyes. You’d probably find that her pupils are blown wide if you did. Instead, you’re watching her mouth, lips stained cherry and tongue coming out to wet the dry patch.

You hold your breath as you reach across her for the hand towel, but her hands find your hips, teetering into dangerous territory as she moves almost close enough to slip her hands under your skirt.

“You’re not gonna say thank you?” she asks, watching you through hooded eyes.

A nervous giggle bubbles.

“Thanks, Violet,” you murmur.

“‘Course,” she agrees easily. “You gonna wear it again?”

You bite.

“If you ask nicely.”

She licks her lips again, body flexed as you allow her to press you closer. One of your hands splays on the counter behind her, the other brushing over the blooming bruise on her jaw.

“Can I?” she husks.

You don’t need to ask for clarification, not when her nose is nudging yours and your breaths are mingling.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Pl—”

The door rattles with the ferocity of whoever’s knocking on the other side.

“Hurry up in there, I gotta piss!”

To your dismay, the two of you don’t talk about Saturday night. And things’s aren’t particularly bad, but something’s definitely shifted and it’s driving you nuts.

Vi’s on the ice practicing the following morning and after classes on Monday, so you wait for your session with bated breath on Tuesday. You try extra hard despite every voice of reason telling you that you’re reading into it too much.

Vi smiles at you easily as she drops into the seat across from you, pulling out her biometry textbook without so much as a peep about the fact that the two of you almost kissed in whoever the fuck’s bathroom that was over the weekend.

You’re staring, hard.

Because that familiar feeling’s coming back. The seedling of doubt that had rooted in the beginning about Vi’s intentions with you. She’d done a good job of weeding it out over the weeks, of dismantling whatever image you’d built of her in your head, but it plants itself again.

She’s squeezing your hand across the table and your gaze flits down to her rough fingers. That’s when you notice it, the bracelet, still fastened where you clasped it on game night.

You relax a fraction.

“Everything okay?”

You smile, something small.

“Yeah, good,” you assure her.

The rest of your tutoring session is uneventful, goes off without a hitch. And you’re shameless in admitting that you hate to see her go as she walks you to your car in the student lot near the library.

You’re grasping at straws, clearing your throat before she closes your door for you.

“Uh,” you squeak. “Do you want to come over?”

Vi’s pausing, hand still on the edge of your door as her lips twitch.

“Like right now?”

You nod because you’ve already pulled the trigger.

“Like right now,” you confirm.

She checks her wristwatch, sighs heavily because fuck yes, she’d love to come over right now, but Anderson and Williams are expecting her for a strategy meeting with the coach and—

“Sorry,” you say quickly. “You don’t have to, I know we only really—”

She pinches your cheek before tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

“I can’t tonight, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” she says. “But tell you what, if you’re willing to free up your Friday night, I’d really like to plan something.”

Your heartbeat skips.

“All yours,” you say without missing a beat.

Vi’s grinning wide.

“Perfect, drive safe,” she bids. “See you tomorrow.”

And you don’t know why you’re so fucking high strung, not when Vi hasn’t done anything to make you doubt that this isn’t all in your head, but it only gets worse as the days go by.

It doesn’t come to a head until Thursday, when your tutoring slots are miraculously empty until Vi’s and you receive an email from Medarda to meet in her office after her string of lectures.

“Afternoon,” the older woman greets, smiling warmly at you as she lets you into her office. “Just wanted to check in with your audit and request any feedback you have.”

You think for a moment before shaking your head.

“Nothing in particular that I can think of,” you say easily, then add with a laugh, “feel like I’ll be a professional by the end of the semester.”

“Why do you say that?” Medarda chuckles as she logs into her computer.

“I have a student sitting every Tuesday and Thursday for tutoring in your class,” you reveal.

She gives you look crossed between surprise and amusement.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You giggle at the distant memory of Vi’s expression in the weight room. “She seems to be picking it up well enough, though.”

“Huh, every Tuesday and Thursday?” she asks, fingers flying over her keyboard. “I must be doing something wrong.”

“I’d hardly say that,” you say. “When Violet booked all my sessions, I thought it was a joke, but I think she’s just really dedicated to doing well.”

“Violet?” Medarda repeats, hands stilling over her mouse.

“Yeah, Violet, on the women’s hockey team?”

Your professor’s eyebrows twitch.

“Why would you— huh. Weird,” she comments.

“I admit it was a little strange, but—”

“Violet’s a consistent top scorer on the exams,” Medarda shares. “She’s been top of the class since the beginning of the semester.”

And it’s like the world stills as she reveals that information, fragile pieces shattering as the gears start turning in your brain and you try to put the puzzle together.

You glance at the clock, find that you’re due to meet Violet in half an hour.

“Uh, if you’ll excuse me,” you say politely, try to ignore the concerned expression etched on your professor’s face at your sudden departure. “It was nice chatting with you. If I think of anything feedback-wise, I’ll be sure to email you.”

And you’re running.

Vi’s in the locker room after practice, toweling off after an extra long shower because she’s been looking a little extra forward to seeing you today, but perhaps that’s everyday as of late.

She’s hooking the bracelet you gave her back on when her phone vibrates and she’s practically diving into her locker when your text tone bleats.

sweetheart: I have to cancel your session this afternoon. I’m sorry.

Her expression screws up.

everything ok? can i do anything for you?

sweetheart: Personal things to take care of. I’ll see you next week.

I’ll see you next week.

But what about tomorrow? She’d been working so fucking hard on tomorrow, on finally pulling her head far enough out of her ass to ask you to give the two of you a shot.

She sets her phone down, slumps down on the bench as she turns her wrist and takes in the smooth glass beads of the bracelet.

She sighs. Hard.

You hole up all weekend long, put your phone on do not disturb, and try your best to get whatever this is out of your system. But you’re a slave to your emotions and you can’t help but check your messages every time you know Vi’s free.

It’s a single text on a Saturday night, one that surprises you because you know she has practice now that the big game’s fast approaching.

violet <3: hey sweetheart, just checking in. i know you said you had a few personal things going on, but i’m here if you feel like you need someone <3

You’re texting back before your better judgement can stop you.

Just been a little stressed. You wanna come over?

.

.

.

Then you add, We can smoke.

Vi’s sending you three running emojis and you crack a smile at your screen before realizing that you need to shower.

You lay out some clothes beforehand, ultimately settling on last Saturday’s skirt.

Vi’s giggling as you fumble with the wrapper, rolling it with clumsy fingers because, truthfully, you don’t do this often, but she shuts right up when you don’t break eye contact as the tip of your tongue slides across the seam to seal the joint.

She’d picked you up with a Sprite and a slice to split from Valentino’s, throat drying as you bounded down the stairs in the same fucking skirt that had her touching herself after she’d gotten home from the party, guilty and wound tight. Now the two of you are tucked away behind some abandoned strip.

“Ready?” Her voice rasps as you pop the end between your lips and she brings the lighter to ignite the end for you.

It burns as you inhale and Vi’s thighs squeeze together involuntarily. She’d smoked with you twice before, both times on the roof of your apartment building and at a reasonable distance. But now, she knows what your body feels like, almost knows what your lips taste like.

You take a few more puffs before offering it to her and the smoke begins to plume to fill the space of her little coupe. It’s moments like these, tucked away from prying eyes, that it’s just you and Vi.

Not Vi, the supposed womanizing hockey star, or you, the nerdy homebody tutor. Just the two of you, two souls trying to get through university and carve your paths.

“I aced Medarda’s exam this week,” Vi says softly, jay pinched between her fingers as she watches you with lowering eyes.

“Oh, yeah? I wonder why,” you quip in return, face impossibly close to hers despite the console between you.

“I have a smartypants tutor that does an especially good job when she’s motivated,” she answers.

Your cheeks flame, but you don’t back down. Vi’s been extra good at pushing your buttons and flirting hard as of late, and maybe you’re a little more than willing to receive and reciprocate, but the two of you have been toeing the line, yet neither of you have taken the leap.

This moment, however, feels like it could be it. Like you’re going to find out what the fuck all of this even is.

“I have to meet this tutor of yours,” you play along. “She sounds like a miracle worker.”

“Among other things,” Vi teases, sucking in the smoke and blowing it through her nostrils.

“Like?”

“She’s also funny as fuck,” she hums. “A big baby when we watch Animal Planet.”

You narrow your eyes at her and Vi lets out a little laugh that makes your toes curl.

“Uh-huh?”

“She’s really fucking pretty too,” she says quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she affirms. “Kind of pretty that makes you wanna do bad, bad things.”

You smile falters as a shiver rips down your spine and before you know it, Vi’s putting out the joint before climbing in the cramped backseat of her car to spread her legs.

Doesn’t even give you a moment to process before she’s pulling you on top of her and allowing you to settle comfortably in her lap. Her hands run up your thighs and disappear under your skirt to grab the fat of your ass.

You breathe out a little giggle as your slender fingers come up to cup her jaw.

“Think my tutor’ll be mad at me?” Vi murmurs, nose brushing yours. “‘Cuz I really, really wanna kiss this pretty girl in my lap right now.”

You let out a broken little sigh when her hips buck.

“Maybe she’ll forgive you,” you whisper. “I know I would.”

And that’s all the affirmation Vi needs from you before she’s taking the plunge and slotting her lips with yours; kissing you with so much fervor, you’d think she needs you to breathe. She tastes like mint and weed and you can’t get enough.

Vi’s all-consuming, her kiss a delicious mix of teeth and tongue. And, god, her hands. Rough and calloused, but gentle in the way she explores your body. It isn’t until she’s snapping the band of your thong and her fingertips ghost the seam of your sticky heat that you’re hyper-focusing.

“Mmmph, Violet, Vi—” Your voice cracks as she breaks from your lips to map a series of kisses from your jaw, to the juncture behind your ear, down the column of your neck. “Wait.”

She stops, hands pulling from under your skirt like you’ve burned her. And perhaps you have, branded nearly every part of her because she can’t really think of a sound moment if you’re not there.

“Sorry, sorry,” she shudders as the arousal ebbs through her tightened body. “I—”

I’m caught up. I’m losing it, and it’s all your fault, and—

“Violet,” you swallow, fingers toying with the collar of her varsity sweatshirt. “I have something to say.”

Her throat bobs and her grey eyes gleam like ash in the lowlight of the backseat of her car. The windows are smoked out and it’s exceptionally warm, equal parts sexual tension and another thing Vi can’t quite pinpoint.

“Yeah, anything,” she assures you, hands resting on your waist instead. “You can tell me anything.”

One of your palms settles over her chest, right where her heart is and you suck in a sharp breath.

“I— uh, I really like you, Violet,” you admit quietly. “A lot more than I think I’ve ever liked someone in a long, long time.”

Oh.

Oh. Here it comes, the big fat rejection. The coming to your senses.

“But?”

The look on your face is devastating and Vi’s scared.

“I have to know that if I give you a chance, you won’t abuse it,” you hiccup, and wow, that’s definitely not what she expects you to say, but fuck does it leave a sour taste in her mouth.

“Abuse it?” she repeats, face crumpling.

“Violet,” you sigh.

“Abuse what?” she husks.

“I know you—”

“Do you?” she scoffs, a wave of irritation washing over her as she looks you with disappointment. “What gave you the idea that I would ever even dream of taking advantage of you giving me a chance?”

“You don’t necessarily have a spotless record, Violet,” you say, voice edged. “And I know that I’m not your usual—”

“Not my usual what?” The venom in Vi’s tone is uncharacteristic, but this is not at all how she expected tonight to go and she’s frustrated. “Not my usual type? You internalized all this shit that people say about me even though I’ve been trying to get you to see me for months.”

Emotion clogs your throat because a small part of you knows that Vi’s right. She’s never given you an outright reason to doubt her interest in you, but it all just seems too good to be true.

“Sue me for wanting to protect myself,” you choke, climbing out of her lap and back into the front seat. “Especially because I know that you don’t actually need help in Medarda’s class.”

And that catches Vi off guard. You see as much in the rearview mirror when she pales.

She clambers back into the driver’s seat.

“Who told you that?” she asks, not even bothering to deny the fact.

“I mentioned that I was tutoring you in passing when Medarda asked for feedback on her class,” you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. “She asked why I’d be doing that when you’re top of all her sections.”

Violet’s voice is stuck in her chest.

“And then your past hook ups parade around campus like a reminder that—,” you cut yourself off, obviously hurt after bottling this all up. “And it isn’t any of my business, nor are we anything enough for me to plausibly upset—”

“Yes, I lied,” Vi admits quietly. “But only about one thing.”

Your breath catches.

“You’re right, I don’t need help in Medarda’s class. I lied about being clueless and I signed up for tutoring even though I didn’t need it,” she says.

“Why?”

“You know why,” Vi huffs. “From the moment I met you, I knew.”

It’s a glaring insinuation that makes you crack.

“No one ever says it out loud, but I know what everyone thinks,” you choke. “Violet’s fucking that loser?”

“You really believe that?”

“God, Violet, I don’t know what to fucking believe,” you cry out. “My life’s fucking fine and dandy and then you show up and make me fucking question everything I—”

Vi lets out a humorless laugh, can’t even look at you and it could make you sick.

“You’re so fucking loved by everyone, even those who won’t admit it,” you croak. “And you’re incredible at everything you do, turn everything you touch to gold, and I’m just...”

Vi’s brows furrow.

“You’re what?”

“I’m me,” you whisper meekly. “I’m just me and you’re you, and I just don’t see what makes me so different.”

And Vi realizes that she’d read it all wrong.

“Look at me,” she says softly, fingers tracing your jaw.

You knuckle your tears away, make a petulant noise in your throat.

“You wanna know why I booked all your stupid tutoring sessions?” she huffs. “Because I really fucking like you, ________. And it’s beyond wanting to fuck you even though god knows I’d fucking die if you let me. It’s so much more than having you physically. Because I’ll take being just friends with you if it means having you around. I don’t give a shit about anything else but you.”

It’s the most sound declaration you hear from the girl in the semester you’ve known her and it makes you cry.

“You make me feel so fucking normal and you remind me that I don’t need to be anything else but me,” she breathes. “And I get where you’re coming from, I hear you. I just really hope you hear me too.”

“I do,” you whisper. “I’m just—”

Vi squeezes your thigh, takes your hand in hers and brings your knuckles to her lips.

“Let’s get you home, okay?” she offers gently.

Vi only has one more game before the championships and she won’t lie and say that this limbo with you has her feeling like she’s going to be ill.

You’d cancelled her tutoring sessions this week, told her that maybe the two of you needed to spend some time apart and that she was clearly doing a number on you. So she agrees, tries to give you space to work through what’s weighing on you.

sweetheart: Good luck at your game tonight, Violet. I’m rooting for you.

She really wishes you’d be there, but she knows you need the time alone.

thanks, sweetheart. i appreciate you.

“Alright Vi, we have fifteen til puck drop,” Ellie says carefully, has been front row to everything transpiring between you and her best friend.

Vi tucks her phone away in her backpack, unhooks your bracelet from around her wrist and fastens it to the handle of her bag, and grabs her stick from the rack before she lets her teammates jostle her into the tunnel.

And she wishes she could lock in, clear her head and get into the game, but all she can think about is you.

It’s a narrow victory once the game ends, but she can’t find it in herself to celebrate, especially not at the kickback afterwards because fucking Sev and her assholes are there.

“Where’s your little dime piece?” she taunts.

“Fuck off,” Vi warns, obviously not in the mood.

“Shame,” she whistles. “She looks like a fucking weirdo, but she sure does have a fat ass—”

Ellie’s fist cracks so hard across her jaw.

“She told you to fuck off,” she hisses.

Sev spits the blood in her mouth on the toe of Ellie’s shoe, fists bunching the collar of her sweater.

“Keep that fucking energy on the ice because I’m gonna wipe the floor with your fucking pissbaby team.”

You wake up on Monday morning to a text from Vi and a handful of notifications from Instagram.

violet <3: can i see you this week?

You open Instagram.

sev.94 has requested to follow you! sev.94 has sent you a message request!

Your brows furrow, opening the message request hesitantly. There’s a few DMs and a video from this Sev person.

sev.94 hey pretty, sorry to text you like this. sev.94 just thought you should know the kind of person your little girlfriend is sev.94 sent a video. sev.94 i don’t really do relationships, but i’d take your mind off of it if you let me.

You’re playing the video, quality grainy and audio blasted. You don’t know what you’re looking at at first, it’s dark, and there’s so many voices. But you see skin, see the outline of a girl’s naked back, delicate and arched in pleasure.

You think this Sev person’s just fucking with you, playing some stupid joke with a shitty punchline as someone’s hands snake around to palm the flesh of the unnamed girl’s ass, but then you see it.

The bracelet.

Vi going to lose her shit for two reasons.

(1) Because you haven’t responded to her message despite your read receipts being on, and (2) she can’t fucking find the bracelet you’d gifted to her.

She’s barging into Ellie’s room, shirtless and hair dripping.

“Jesus, fuck, do you knock?” Ellie hisses, buds she was in the midst of grinding scattering across the floor.

“I can’t find the bracelet she gave me,” Vi says quickly.

Ellie’s face scrunches.

“Huh?”

“The bracelet ________ gave to me,” Vi says. “I hooked it on my backpack before practice on Saturday but it’s not there anymore.”

Ellie’s expression morphs, eyes narrowing in thought.

“Maybe you misplaced it,” Ellie offers. “Regardless, we practice tonight, I’ll help you look for it.”

Vi’s chest is tight, doesn’t want to admit that the stupid little bracelet means way more to her than she lets on. She only ever takes it off when she’s on the ice, won’t risk losing it when she’s got a target on her back and everyone plays rough.

It turns out to be futile when they enter the rink and she retraces her steps only to come up empty-handed.

This, she realizes, is the start of a very long week.

You should’ve seen it coming, really. Don’t know why you tried to psyche yourself into thinking that Vi could ever really want something with you when the world’s her fucking oyster and she can have anything she wants.

And you want to feel bad when she texts you intermittently through the days, checking in, offering to meet you, anything. But part of you is angry, unforgiving, tired.

You could’ve gone the rest of the school year unscathed if she’d just left you the fuck alone, but she pried and she tugged and she settled, and she made a home inside of you and you hate that you let her.

xxxx: i really miss you.

You block her number, block her social media, and even though finals are imminent, you now know that Vi’s been playing you for a fool this whole time and you cancel every last one of the sessions she’s booked.

You hope she’d get the message, figure that you’d caught onto her little game and aren’t willing to play anymore, but she doesn’t, that much is clear when you’re finishing up your two thirty session and find her stalking into the library just as the student leaves your table.

“Are we going to talk like adults or are you going to keep acting like—”

You don’t entertain a response, just pack your bag and sling the strap over your shoulder because the tears are bubbling and you don’t trust yourself not to break.

“Seriously?” Vi bites, hot on your heels as you throw all of your weight against the library doors and suck in the icy air.

“Leave me alone, Violet,” you warn.

“No, fuck that,” Vi spits, hand closing around your bicep. “You don’t— You don’t get to make me fall for you and then try to leave with no explanation.”

“Fuck you,” you whisper.

“What?”

“Fuck you, Violet,” you hiccup, yanking your arm from her grasp and putting as much distance as you can between the two of you. “I hope you and your friends got a good laugh out of it.”

Her face is screwing up and if she wasn’t confused before, she’s definitely confused now.

“Listen, I can’t fix something if I don’t know what’s wrong,” Vi argues. “I’m so fucking lost right now.”

You hate how believable she is. How the thought of hurting you seems so inconceivable to her. But that grainy video was clear enough.

“I hate you,” you murmur. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”

Your name comes out broken, like you’ve wounded her. But you’ve officially folded your hand, won’t dare look her in her eyes because the both of you know it’s not true.

The championships roll in fast like a tide and neither your or Violet are ready for it.

You hear they’re live streaming the game, it’s the most anticipated one in the season. Piltover Stallions against the Zaun City Tigers. A part of you wishes you could support them, but then you’re starkly reminded that you’re a laughingstock amongst them.

The library on a Friday night is as quiet as can be, the hum of the fluorescents background to the voices in your head that are loud. You’re so engrossed in the study material that you don’t realize someone’s making a beeline for you until they’re knocking on the tabletop.

Ellie Williams stands before you in all her lean glory, hands sunk in her pockets as she stares down at you.

“Aren’t you supposed to be playing?” Your tone is clipped, disinterested because you believed that you and Ellie could be friends once upon a time.

“Coach sat me out because I socked one of those dickhead Zaun City Tigers in the mouth last weekend.”

You humph.

“Listen, we don’t have much time left, so I’m going to make this short and sweet,” she says. “Whatever happened between you and Vi is obviously personal and that typically would have nothing to do with me, but she can’t get her shit together because all she can think of is you.”

“And that’s my problem because...?”

“I know that Vi comes off a certain way, but she’s my best friend, like my best friend in this entire shithole of a world, and she’s—”

“No offense, Ellie,” you cut her off. “But if Vi sent you here to plead her case, I think that’s pathetic and—”

“Okay, well maybe if you shut up for three seconds and let me get to my point—”

You close your textbook and shove it in your backpack before standing to signal the end of the conversation.

“Whatever, I don’t have time for this.”

Ellie watches you walk away, takes in a deep breath because wow, you’re a bitch when you’re mad, but she absolutely gets why Vi is whipped.

“Violet’s in love with you.”

And that statement makes you freeze. Tears cloud your vision as your fists tighten around the strap of your bag.

“If you fuck someone else while you’re in love, I want nothing to do with it,” you bite.

Ellie’s brows shoot up.

“Whoa, what?”

“Violet fucked someone else as soon as things got tough, and if that’s the kind of person she is in love, I’d rather be alone,” you say stiffly.

“Respectfully, there’s no way Vi’s interested in getting pussy from anywhere else with how down bad that bitch is for you, but even if she was, I spend over seventy percent of my day with her and know that all she’s been doing the past two weeks is moping over the fact that you handed her ass to her on a silver platter.”

“There’s a video.”

Ellie’s brows must be mingling with her hairline right about now.

She reaches a palm out.

Show me.

You open the DM from sev.94, watching as Ellie’s expression morphs from morbid curiosity to disbelief, to a quiet rage.

She’s handing your phone back to you and grabbing you by your forearm.

“She’s fucking dead.”

When you enter the rink, the ice is tense.

It’s the middle of the second period and the game is tied 3—3.

Your eyes comb the playing area, can’t find Vi’s jersey number in the mix, but finally settle on her on the bench, shoulders terse and obviously on edge.

She doesn’t clock you yet, had given up on the idea of patching things up with you after your last conversation.

“Vi’s been missing her bracelet since practice on Saturday,” Ellie’d told you on the way there, then pulled out her phone to show you the photo she’d taken of Vi passed out in nothing but her boxers on the couch the night of the last game, fucked up and sad. “We went out for like an hour after the game, but that was it. Vi was too fucking in her head.”

The girl from the tunnel, the one who’d been taunting the two of you, you piece together, has been the one behind it all, stirring the pot.

Throughout the end of the second period and all through intermission, Vi doesn’t notice you, too busy trying to get off the fucking bench to survey the crowd.

It’s only during final puck drop in the third period that their coach finally gives in, smacks the back of her helmet and tells her to make him proud that she lifts her head up.

And there, front and center of the student section is you.

Her eyes are wide, body frozen in place as she tries to figure if you’re just a figment of her imagination, but then the horn’s blaring and she’s having to zone back in.

At this point in time, she doesn’t give a fuck if they win or lose, she just needs to get to you.

“Your little bitch looks cute tonight,” Sevika comments wolfishly. “Bet she tastes as good as she looks.”

Vi easily intercepts her pass, cuts between two players as she shuffles it along with practiced precision. She sends the rubber flying and the goalie narrowly misses block.

“Maybe if you played as good as you ran your mouth, you’d wipe the floor with my pissbaby team you big bitch,” Vi calls, resetting in their corner.

And perhaps you’re her good luck charm, the only thing she needed to see to get back into it, because Vi reignites. The adrenaline pumping through her veins fuels every shot, and soon the timer’s buzzing.

7—5.

The roar is deafening, but you’re all she sees in the ocean of cowbells and pompoms.

She barely inches forward before something arcs through the sky and lands before her feet.

Her bracelet.

You watch from the sidelines, the final confirmation as Vi picks up the loop and launches herself at Sevika.

The crowd cheers.

Fight, fight fight!

You don’t know how many swings Vi gets in, just know that she’s flashing you a bloody smile before she skates off the ice.

Ellie emerges from the locker room and you’re perking up.

Most, if not all, of Vi’s teammates had come and gone and you’d been waiting patiently, anxiously, for her to emerge since the end of the game nearly an hour ago.

“She’s the last one in there,” is all Ellie says before strolling off.

“What if...what if she doesn’t want to see me?” you ask hesitantly.

Ellie chuffs a little laugh, doesn’t bother turning as she calls from halfway down the hall, “Find out for yourself, sweetheart.”

Vi’s pulling a tank top over her head as soon as you enter and your cheeks bloom when you catch a split-second of her tits.

She glances up at you, nose bruising and lip busted.

“Hey,” she spares you, stuffing her uniform and skates into her gym bag.

“Hi,” you squeak.

A pregnant pause as you take her in, hesitant to close the distance between the two of you.

“Didn’t think you’d make it,” she observes.

And you don’t really have a bullshit response, know that you had every intention of staying as far away as humanly possible, so you settle on humming your agreement.

“Ellie told me,” she starts. “Why you lashed out on me.”

You swallow.

“And part of me gets it, I really do,” she continues, “but I also thought you had more faith in me than that.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Fuck, Violet, I’m so sorry.”

“I told you to free up Friday night a few weeks ago,” she says, shuts her locker door and slumps down on the bench behind her. “I was going to tell you everything, officially ask you out, but then all that shit happened and it caught up to me.”

You take a step forward, and then another, and another until you’re standing in front of her.

“You have to know that I would never do something like to anyone, but especially not to you,” she says softly, taking your hands in hers.

“I know.”

She brushes her lips against your knuckles, pulls you in closer so that you’re standing between her legs.

“You’re right,” she continues, voice hoarse. “I don’t have a spotless track record, but I meant it when I said that I don’t give a shit about anyone else but you. I would give you anything I can if you let me.”

Your hands rest on her shoulders, her chin resting against the plush of your belly as you look down at her, speechless.

“That night, in the car, you said that you didn’t see what made you so different.”

“I don’t,” you admit.

Vi stands, caging you between strong arms as she drops her face into the hollow of your neck. You shiver when you feel her lips press to the skin there.

“We could start off with the obvious.”

One of her hands rests on the small of your back, pulls you flush so that the only things that separate you are the flimsy fabrics of your clothes. The other grabs a handful of your ass.

“I meant it when I said that you’re the kind of pretty that makes me wanna do bad things.”

You gulp, thighs squeezing as her lips part and she bites.

“Vi.”

“You got a giant brain,” she laughs breathily, fingers coming around the fiddle with your belt.

She kisses you, mouth hot and breath warm. It’s better the second time around, no doubt obscuring you from truly indulging.

“Pl—ease.”

“You’re kind and you’re selfless, and you’re my sweet, sweet little crybaby.”

“Violet,” you sigh breathlessly. “Listen to me.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Fuck me,” you pant. “Please.”

Violet nearly runs two red lights and whips into your neighborhood on two wheels.

The two of you are stumbling up the stairs and she’s spanking your ass on the last step as you fiddle with your keys and try to find the right one under the dim light of the complex hall.

Violet’s already unbuckling her belt as you turn the key, nearly taking you down as she shoves you inside and up against the front door.

“Maddie home?” she breathes.

“Out of town,” you answer quickly, kicking off your sneakers and pulling your sweater over your head. “Visiting her family upstate.”

“Perfect,” Vi hums. “I’ve been fantasizing about fucking you on your couch.”

“Oh–”

One of her rough hands comes to cup your tit over your bra, her tongue laving over the other while her free hand makes work of the clasp.

You walk her back to the couch, stand between her knees as she flops back into the seat. Her arms spread over the back as she settles in, legs widening to give you ample room to strip.

Her eyes never leave yours as you easily unclasp your bra and shimmy out of your jeans, leaving you in nothing but a tight pair of little lace panties and pink socks that has Vi wet.

“C’mere,” she rasps, pulling you to straddle her lap.

Her lips immediately latch onto one of your pebbled nipples, tongue hot as her hands wander.

“Fuck.”

“Tell me what you want,” she husks, biting down on the swell of your breast.

And having Violet this close, her touch excruciatingly featherlight and tempting, you wind tight.

“Want you inside of me,” you whimper, fingers fixing around her throat. “Please.”

“Yeah?” she eggs you on, lips brushing yours as her palms settle on your ass. “You want me to fuck you?”

You nod eagerly, hips rolling in her lap as her breath pitches.

“Vi.”

Her nickname puffing from your lips makes her crack. You’re wound in her arms, face in her neck as she peels your thong taut, away from your waiting cunt, and runs her fingertips from your slit down to your clit.

“F...F—uck,” you sigh.

“Holy shit,” she marvels, licking her lips when she easily glides through your folds. “You’re really fucking wet.”

You grind down against her, clothed clit catching against her belt buckle. The cool metal sends a jolt through your pussy and you’re moaning loud in her ear.

And Violet really wants to take her time with you, wants to milk the first time she ever gets to fuck you for as long as she humanly can, but she’s still fully dressed and you’re practically naked, perfect tits pressed to her chest and fat ass in the palm of her hand.

She shifts you further into her, so that she can peek over the arch of your back as she sinks her middle and ring finger three knuckles deep into your needy heat.

“Ah, fuck, Violet.” Your voice breaks as she starts pumping into you, your arousal coating her fingers and the sound of her easily slipping through your pussy reverberating through the living room. “Fuckfuckfuck.”

She kisses your jaw, litters them until she’s catching your lips and licking crudely into your mouth.

You cry out when her fingers slip out.

She’s leaning the both of you forward, easing you from her lap and onto the couch as she takes a moment to shuck her shirt off and pull her belt through the loops in one tug.

You watch her through it all, the way the trim muscles of her biceps and shoulders flex as she leans over you, takes you by the ankles and yanks you until your ass is half-hanging from the edge of the couch.

She kneels before you, strips you out of your thong.

You don’t miss the way she shoves the soiled fabric in her jeans pocket.

“Jesus,” she breathes, gaze fluttering between your eyes and your pussy. “You’re so fucking pretty, sweetheart.”

Your toes curl at the praise, fingers closing around where Vi’s holding your legs apart.

“You know how bad I’ve been wanting to taste your pussy?” she rasps, gathering the lewdest amount of spit to dribble onto your clit. When you don’t answer, she’s freeing a hand to slap your slit.

“Nnngh, fuck!”

“Think I’ve always wanted to have you,” she admits. “But it was that stupid party fucking party and that stupid fucking skirt. God, I would’ve fucked you in that skirt if you let me.”

“Yeah?” you whine breathlessly. “Tell me.”

She’s stuffing you again without warning, curling her fingers in a way that has your back arching off the couch.

“Would’ve bent you over that sink and made you watch yourself while I ate you out,” she says easily.

And it’s so fucking delicious, the nasty shit Vi’s saying to you while she pounds your aching heat; the way she finally gives in and tastes you, sucking on your clit like she’s starved and you’re the only thing that can sate her hunger.

Your fingers curl through her hair as you teeter dangerously over the edge, nails grazing her scalp and tugging when she hits the spot deep inside of you that has you keening for more.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ cum,” you choke. “Holy fuck.”

You feel Vi grin against your pussy, watch her with a slack jaw and half-lidded eyes because the sight of her between your legs in your moonlit living room has your insides twisting hard.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” she encourages you. “Cum all over my fingers. Wanna see you gush.”

“Hah, h—” Your thighs tighten around her head, fingers curled so hard in her hair, she moans in a mix of pleasure and pain. “Don’t stop, Vi, please.”

She moans into your cunt, savoring the heady taste of you as you practically ride her face.

The sound that fills the room is downright filthy, the sight that Vi beholds when she peeks from where she’s devouring you equally so. It’s picturesque, the way she has you writhing. A sheen of perspiration glistens over your flesh as she eats you out and it’s a perfect mix of her tongue and her fingers that send you soaring over the edge.

It’s a pitched whine that echos, the staccato of your shaky breathing that sings like music in her ears as you cum. And hard.

Her lashes flutter against the skin of your inner thighs as she peppers kisses there, her lips slick with spit and arousal.

“Fuck, babe,” she whispers. “That was...”

She can’t really choose a specific word, is just mind blown at the fact that she’d just made you cum so hard and so fast. It makes her tense and tingle, a smug wave of pride washing over her as she starts mouthing a trail from your belly, between the valley of your tits, up your throat, to finally press a chaste one on your lips.

You taste yourself first and foremost, but then you taste everything she’s ever wanted to say to you, all the unspoken words and the things she’d been too scared to share. Feel it in the way her hands are roaming, squeezing, caressing.

You breathe a disbelieving laugh, peck her lips again when she pulls away to brush your hair from your face.

“Vi—” Your breath hitches and your eyes glaze.

“I know, I know.”

You wrap your arms around her shoulders, legs hooking around the narrow of her waist as she bears your weight and picks up your boneless figure.

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart.”

The sun is warm against your skin when you wake up the following morning, your bedroom bathed in an orange glow.

You feel bone tired, body sore and muscles tight as your arm sweeps the other side of the bed in search of balmy skin, but instead you’re met with cool sheets and swelling dread.

You sit up quickly, find that you’re still naked, and take a moment to asses your bedroom. The bathroom door’s cracked, light off, and everything else is exactly where you left it.

Everything except Vi.

Oh, you think to yourself.

Almost don’t want to leave your room because your empty apartment will be confirmation enough that Vi really did get the last laugh in the end.

But you force yourself out of bed, shrug on an oversized t-shirt before finding the living room just as still as it had been before the two of you had barreled in the night before and she’d left her mark on you.

The only sign that the entire thing wasn’t just a figment of your imagination was Vi’s belt strewn haphazardly on the coffee table.

You feel hollow, almost numb, and even if a persistent part of your brain was consistently telling you that you should’ve known better, the tears well in your eyes because you’d really hoped Violet was different.

You knuckle the tears away angrily, mind racing far too fast to register the door quietly unlocking and the soft footfalls coming down the hall.

“Babe?”

Your gaze snaps up.

Like a vision, Vi’s standing in the doorway, a handful of plastic bags in tow. She’s wearing her clothes from last night and the puffs under her eyes make her a little worse for wear.

She sets the bags down on the eat-in, rounds the couch to take you by the shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” she worries. “What’s going on?”

You hiccup, crumpling in her arms because you were so fucking scared.

“Thought you left,” you croak.

Vi breathes a sigh of relief, blowing out a hollow laugh because her girl’s such a baby.

“You have jack shit in your fridge,” she teases lightly. “How am I supposed to make you a five star breakfast with greek yogurt and carrot sticks?”

You whine.

“Don’t care about breakfast,” your muffled voice sounds from where your face is pressed in her chest. “Just wanted to wake up to you.”

Violet groans.

“You’re so cute,” she laughs, kissing the top of your head.

“I wanna go back to bed,” you mutter petulantly, emotional whiplash making your eyes droop.

“You’re not gonna let me make you breakfast?” Vi picks, smoothing the hair from your face.

Your eyes catch the bracelet refastened around her wrist and you grin softly, taking her fingers to press a kiss to her palm.

She could combust, gaze gooey as she watches you watch her.

Yeah, Vi has a huge problem.

One that’s particular, and overarching; one she doesn’t think she can go without.

And frankly, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

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