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[hyperbabes]

💋 she/her/hers — twenty-three — femme lesbian ⚢

🐈‍⬛ main interests : the last of us ᖭི༏ᖫྀ — arcane

🥀 18+ content blog — sexual and/or dark content, so block or ignore if you don’t like — no minors interacting!

🎱 tags: #hyper’s rants #hyper’s asks #hyper’s favs

#hyper’s oneshot recs #hyper’s series recs

#hyper’s drabble recs #hyper’s hc recs

[bryancookie]

happy pride month from our favorite queer people

[imelliesgf]

Inexpiable

contents: reader has a name but it's only for plot purposes; angst; reader has bipolar disorder; daddy issues; mommy issues; a lil bit of daddy kink if you squint; mental health themes; religious traditions and trauma, real dark themes regarding the religion; the religion said here does not exist, I made it all up; cannibalism 😞

wc: 6k

huge thank you to my lover, my baby, my sweet girl @wqodwzrd ! thank you for helping me, i love you.

You watch the fat raindrops slide down the thick glass window. Your mind is too focused on your own thoughts to pay attention to the world outside. To pay attention to how much Isis is talking.

“And what about you, Iris?” Celia, your babysitter, calls your name, catching your attention. 

Your twin sister, sitting on the other edge of the backseat, smiles warmly at you.

“How was the practice?” 

“It was good,” You clear your throat. “It was great!”

The driver looks at you through the mirror.

Celia quickly notices that you are not in the mood to talk, as always. But she doesn't blame you; it's not your fault.

Isis pushes herself to sit closer to you. She holds your hand between hers and smiles softly at you. How you wish you could be like her.

You're the same but completely different. 

The car comes to a stop, and before you know it, the driver opens your door and offers you his hand so you can get out. 

Get out, what a funny choice of words.

As much as you try, you can't remember his name. Your memory is bad; it always has been. It's a part of your diagnosis. 

Your parents aren't home, as always. You're not quite sure whether they're away on a meeting or on a church retreat; either way, they'll be away for a month.

When you reach your bedroom in the big house, you take off your shoes and sit on your bed, staring directly at the picture frame sitting on your side table.

It's a picture of you and Isis smiling happily, but it's not really you and Isis. You pretend it is, else they wouldn't allow you to keep it. 

You grab it and press your fingers against the girls staring back at you. You miss them, both of them.

Looking around you, your perfect pink bedroom, your canopy bed, the luxury brands in your closet, and on your vanity. It's a princess room, everything a girl could ever ask for. 

No matter how much money they spend, you'll never be the same. You will never feel the same. 

When your eyes begin to burn, you go to the bathroom to run a bath. You watch the bubbles forming, the water running. You wish you could run, too. 

The water is hot against your soft skin, burning every piece of it. You hold your breath and lie down, letting the water cover all of you.

Your eyes are still open, seeing everything distorted by the water's soft waves. You're in your depression phase.

It actually doesn't matter in what phase you are, the sadness is still there. Last month, it was hypomania, you were jumping around, training like you couldn't stop, — you physically couldn't — being the best of the class, pupils dilated and all; but still, the- that feeling tickled in your heart, now and then, reminding you of its existence. 

Your lungs start to beg for oxygen, the dizzy feeling, the pressure on your throat. 

You emerge from the water, suddenly choking on air and water, splashing it all over the tiled floor.

When you come out to your bedroom, through your floor-to-ceiling window, you can see Ellie Williams kneeling on her floor, using her bed as a table while she feverously writes in a little notebook that looks like a journal. 

When you're about to close the curtains, she makes direct eye contact with you, and before she can awkwardly wave at you, you close them.

─────────────

A drop of water slides from the side of your mouth as you drink from your pink bottle of water. 

You wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. Looking at the bleachers and searching for Isis, and thankfully, she's right there waving happily at you.

You can't help but let a small smile out at the happy version of you. She's so sweet, you wish you could be too. 

Sitting on the bleachers are also the three losers – don't get me wrong, you weren't the one who named them that – Ellie, Jesse and Dina. They are weirdly staring at you, Jesse and Dina, Ellie is – as always – focused on her little journal. 

She's probably drawing you, again. You saw it once in your class, when she accidentally dropped it, and you grabbed it for her. You've never seen that girl blush so hard as you stared at the little sketch of yourself. 

You were close to her when you first moved to Jackson – really close, to be honest – but every time you noticed she was making you smile a little too much, you pushed her away. You have been doing it since you were kids: she gets closer to you, you let her in until a certain point, then you push her away.

The easiest way you found to ignore her was by being rude, so when she stares directly at you, you roll your eyes and get back to the game.

You step back, watching all the girls positioned waiting for you to serve the volleyball.

You toss the ball high, jump, and hit it with the palm of your hand, sending it to the other side of the net.

When you're on the court, you forget everything around you. That's when you can forget your thoughts, when you can feel alive. So you play as if your life depended on the game, and in fact, it does.

Now and then, you glance out of the corner of your eye to make sure Isis is still there, rooting for you. And she is, as always.

Isis is always there for you when you try to escape, when you try to end your pain. When you try to fly away, she watches you and knows that just with a look, she can make you come back to her.

She's the only light in the darkness, like a firefly. And when you're lost in the darkness, you look for her light.

─────────────

“What's wrong, kiddo?” Joel asks, looking at Ellie over his glasses, his gaze averted from the crocheted piece in his hands.

He's crocheting a new matching scarf for Ellie and Sarah, and winter is right around the corner.

Ellie sighs and pretends she didn't hear him, but Sarah speaks for her. 

“It's Iris. Ellie's been obsessed with that girl since sixth grade,” the blonde says, chewing on her bubblegum while drawing little dinos all over her soccer ball. 

“Hey, man! That's not nice of you!” Ellie looks offended, brows scrunched, lying like a starfish on the floor. “I'm not obsessed, I'm just…”

“In love.” Joel finishes flatly for her, maintaining his attention on crocheting.

Ellie doesn't say anything, she looks confused at the words. She never thought about it in this way. Yes, she is kinda obsessed with you, but not in a weird way. She finds you a good source of inspiration for her drawings, paintings, poems, and entries. 

Well, yeah, I think she is, in fact, in love.

“You should talk to her, dude” Sarah bites at the edge of the sharpie “She's not gonna bite you or something– wait, actually, she might. Yeah, absolutely, she might bite you. She's a little antisocial and scary. But there are days when she is happy and communicative. She's confusing.”

“Why don't you fall in love with the other one… Isis, isn't that her name?”

Sarah looks at him with a scrunched face.

“Dad, you more than anyone know it isn't like that. Did you choose to fall in love with mom? No, you didn't. You also didn't choose to love your daughters, you just did.”

He rolls his eyes

“I was just kidding, dudes.”

“Don't ever say that again,” the girls say in unison. 

Getting ready for bed, Ellie stops and stares at the painting of your eyes hanging on her wall. It probably looks kinda creepy how obsessed she is with you, but not in a bad way.

She wants to drink your traumas, your fears, to choke on it so you don't have to. She wants you to let her in, to let her see your soul. She doesn't know how.

She moves to stare at you through her – also floor-to-ceiling — window. 

You're sitting on the floor, arms hugging your knees, your cheek pressed against them. You stare at her with glassy eyes. 

Seeing you so hopeless made Ellie make her final decision. She won't give up, she'll make you hers.

The next morning, in philosophy class, Ellie sits next to you and draws a funny version of your always so serious teacher. It's a caricature, there's a balloon above his head that says ' I'm a pain even in my own ass’. 

For the first time in days, you let out a sincere giggle. She smiles back at you, cheeks burning and eyes lingering a little too long on your smile before going back to pay attention to the class.

It goes on for days, little notes in your locker, telling how pretty you look, how perfect your curls are, how your smile lights up all of your face.

And for a moment, you forget your own grief. You're almost happy. You don't notice that you're slowly letting Ellie back in.

The hoarse voice of your dad brings you back to the cruel reality. 

“So, Iris, did you think about what we had talked about?”

It's your turn to be tortured by their words, they're already done with Isis.

You clear your throat, not really sure what he's talking about. You meticulously cut your piece of meat, even though you know you won't eat it.

Your mom keeps on eating dinner, as if you weren't there. She always ignored your existence, yours more than Isis's. You grew accustomed to it, but it still hurts.

“I forgot, what exactly was it?” your voice came out small, he doesn't like when you forget things.

He snorts, letting his cutlery fall harshly on his plate.

 “I don't know why I keep spending so much money on your stupid treatment, you don't get any improvement. It just proves that you aren't really sick, it's just a rebellious act against us. What happened was your fault, don't try to take it out on us!” his voice gets higher with each word that leaves his mouth.

Your eyes get glassy.

“Dad, calm down, it's not that deep. Iris, he's talking about the boyfriend idea” Isis offers you a comforting smile and holds your hand under the table.

You gulp. Oh, he's talking about that.

“I Hmm… I've been looking for one.”

“At least one piece of good news. And how is it going?” 

Before you can say anything, Isis speaks

“Amazing! She's getting close to a cute guy, his name's Jesse.”

Jesse the loser? Ellie's friend? Doesn't he date Dina?

You look confused at your twin. She squeezes your hand.

“Yes, I really like him.”

Your mom fakes a smile.

“I'm finally proud of something you've done. Also, how is the basketball going?”

You flinch.

“I play volleyball, Mom. Isis is the one who plays basketball.”

Your mom rolls her eyes.

“We already talked about it. Volleyball isn't going to get it to college, it is not a real sport. Not as real as basketball. You should follow your sister's steps, it would make our lives a lot easier.” 

And even though you didn't expect much from your mom, your heart shatters a little more. 

“I'm sorry”

After the dinner, you go to your room and leave only the little fairy lights on. Your fingertips are stained with the colors of the oil pastel you're using to paint. The material stains everything: the floor, the paper, your face when you use the back of your hands to clean the insistent tears.

Even at a distance, Ellie can still notice you crying. She can see it in the way your chest moves, the way you keep cleaning your face with so much anger that she's worried you'll end up rubbing your eyes raw. 

She is quick to grab her phone and search for the number Dina gave her, your number. However, her series of texts isn't enough to catch your attention. 

The church looks exactly like the one where it all happened. You hate churches, you hate them all. But more than anything, you hate how accurate your painting looks, how it captures your feelings, the sins, the whispered apologies. 

In an urge to help you, ground you, and calm you down, Ellie leaves her room and runs downstairs, opening the front door and running to your front door.

Before she knocks, she thinks about how uncomfortable your parents are, so she can't just knock. Without thinking properly about this dumb idea, she moves to the side of the house, holding her life onto the fragile wall trellis that goes from the ground to the last roof of your house. 

She slips multiple times, hurting her fingers on the damaged wood, but her bleeding fingers don't matter compared to your pain, she doesn't matter right now. She's so scared you'd do something to hurt yourself. 

That's what people at school whisper when you and Isis aren't around, they say you're just insane and suicidal. But that's just a small group of people, the rest of them are too focused on your beauty to really look at you. To look at the constant pain you live in.

Ellie is focused on your beauty, how could she not? But she's observant enough to notice the small signs that give you up.

When she reaches the roof of the first floor, she tries to hold herself on the walls until she's in front of your floor-to-ceiling window. Thankfully, they're not locked, so when she pushes them open, she falls directly on your floor.

You don't recognise her at first, but you don't mind, you don't get scared by the dark form entering your room, you cry more, sobs shaking your body.

Ellie doesn’t even have time to be ashamed by the way she fell on your floor, your state of mind being more important than her clumsiness. So she gets up and runs to you, gets down to face-to-face with you, and holds your face between her hands. Your face is completely dirty, oil pastel pigment everywhere, some of it even inside your eyes, staining your orbits.

Her heart fell; seeing you like this, all fragile and tears, the usually put-together and perfect rich girl, all vulnerable and small between her fingers.

“It's okay, baby. It's going to be okay.”

And for a moment, you allow yourself to break in front of someone else other than Isis. You hide your face in Ellie's chest, and the girl is surprised by your actions, but she doesn't think twice before caressing your scalp.

Your tears and god knows what else, wet Ellie's band t-shirt, but she doesn't mind. She focuses on you, you're all that has been on her mind the last few years. 

She gently lies down on the floor, bringing you with her and holding you tight. She kisses your head and exists, exists to be your comfort. 

─────────────

The next morning, you skip school, you ignore Isis's knocks on your door and hug Ellie tighter. 

You slept on the floor, but it was the most comfortable sleep you had had in a while. She didn't ask you what happened, and you mentally thank her for it and go back to sleep. 

When you wake up again, you're not hugging anymore. Ellie's staring at you for what seems like a long time, her green eyes look like something forbidden, something you want to drown in. 

She takes a strand of hair from your face, and you close your eyes. You melt into her touch until you notice what is happening. 

You're letting her in again, letting your feelings for her surface. It can't happen, it puts your heart in danger, not only your heart. It puts everything in danger. 

You aren't allowed to feel, you're not allowed to have feelings, let alone have feelings for another girl. It's a sin, a sin your God could never forgive, a sin that could be the reason for your fall. 

You slowly open your eyes, swallowing back the urge to break down again.

“You should go,” you say, voice small but full of pain, of feelings you trap deep inside your soul.

Ellie looks at you, confused. She squints her eyes to try to see past you, but she can't. You're good at pretending. 

“Are you sure? I-”

You stop her.

“I am. Also, don't tell anyone about this. You never entered my room, this never happened.”

“Why? Are you ashamed of liking girls?” She looks almost offended.

You press your lips into a thin line. It's deeper than that.

“You need to go, Celia will be here anytime now.” 

You can see the pain in the girl's eyes at your dry tone. 

“Who's Celia?”

“My babysitter”

“But you're seventeen”

“I am, but I'm rich, and that's the way my parents compensate for not being present. A babysitter who takes care of us instead of them.” 

Ellie is so confused by your sudden change of behavior, she gets up and scratches the back of her head. She gestures towards your window.

“Should I-?”

“Yes.”

In the following days, Ellie tries to talk to you at school, but once again, you walk past her, as if she didn't exist. 

Her heart sinks. You break her heart again. She doesn't know how long she will be able to keep up, but at the same time, she loves you too much to give up. 

You ignore her little notes on your locker, the little drawings she gives you during class, you crumple them and throw them away. 

You do it all with a blank face, but she knows, deep down, that you feel it all. You feel a lot, you feel too much. 

Until one day, she can't take it anymore. She needs to be sure she's not seeing things that aren't there and to see if she's trying to make up an excuse to convince herself that you feel the same way she does. 

So she climbs your house again, reaching your room when you're lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling. 

You get onto your elbows to stare at the girl entering your room, red-faced and nervous, her nerves almost exploding. 

She tries to calm down and hold her tears when she looks at you, but she can't, so she spills it all out.

 “Stop doing it! It's incredibly childish of you. I know you must have reasons for what you do, but I still have feelings. I'm here to help you, to be your safe place.”

You look at her with a scrunched face. You pretend not to know what she's talking about.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Stop pushing me away! Don't you think I've noticed it? Since sixth grade, since you moved here, I have tried to get closer to you, and every time you let me in, something pulls you away. I can't take it anymore, you keep breaking my heart over and over.”

You swallow. 

“So just give it up” 

“I can't”

“You really can”

“I don't, I love you. I've loved you since we were kids. I love your eyes, I love every detail of your face. I love how smart you are and how you dedicate yourself to volleyball. I love how gentle you are with your sister. I love it when you let me in, even though it doesn't last long. I love that rare smile. I love when your disorder gives you a break and lets you be happy, and yes, I know you have bipolar disorder, how could I not? I love it when whatever is the cause of your grief leaves your mind for a moment and lets you have the most beautiful laughs I have ever listened to.”

When she finishes, she's panting, tears spilling out of her pretty eyes, and her voice breaking. She looks at you like her life depends on your answer, and in a way, it does. 

Even with all the feelings rushing through you right now, a simple phrase leaves your mouth.

“I love you”, you say without noticing you did. Eyes big with surprise, surprised by what she said, surprised by what you just said. “But it's complicated, my parents, my dad- he-” 

Ellie shut you up by running to you and straddling your lap. 

“It's okay, I'll be your father figure,” and then, she kisses you.

She kisses you so deeply that it makes you dizzy. She grabs your head and pulls you closer, even though it isn't possible. 

You melt into her, kissing her in the same intensity, as years of silenced feelings become honey-thick desire.

Ellie's fingers get into your hair, messing up your always-so-in-place strands. But you don't mind.

Your hands find her hips, and you hold her in place, pressing her against your crotch. You want her close, closer than ever. You want your souls to merge, to become one.

You're binary stars: two stars orbiting each other, never touching each other, but there. They go round and round, the sight is breathtaking. But there's a catch; the pull is stronger than anything you've ever felt, and the pressure is too much. And in the blink of an eye, one star burns the other to death. 

Ellie's the one who'll burn to death, and you,   you'll be staring at the flames while it swallows her entirely, reducing her to a pile of ashes. You'll do nothing but stare at it.

Her fingers find your bra clip under your shirt, and she undoes it, freeing your tits and letting her cold hands do the bra's job.

Her fingers feel heavenly on your soft skin, even more when she lies you on your bed. She kneels on the floor and pulls you to the edge of the bed, gently and slowly undoing your jeans button. 

She takes her time taking the piece from your body; every inch she pulls out, she kisses, slowly and sweetly. This is the closest you've ever got to romantic love.

The feeling is almost numbing — not only the physical one, but all the feelings circling your head now: burning guilt, cold rage, screaming hate, adoration. But still, your mouth finds a way to start speaking bullshit.

“I'll just use you” are the disgusting words that leave your mouth, but they don't stop Ellie. 

Instead, she leaves open-mouthed kisses on your thighs. 

“I like being used, it means I have a purpose.” 

The ironic laugh that was about to leave your mouth becomes a low moan when she grazes her teeth on your clit over your cotton panties. Your juices stick your skin to the wet fabric, the feeling is overwhelming.

“You don’t know the kind of purpose my family is into.” she holds your panties against your cunt, your back arches.

“You don’t need anyone else, I already told you I’ll be your father figure.”

Your back arch while she uses your body the way she wants it. Your fingers grab into the covers, head spinning and mouth opening. 

─────────────

The next morning, you block her number and keep your curtains closed. You lock your windows and pretend nothing ever happened. 

You don't go to school that morning, neither the next one, or the following one. You're back at the depression phase, but more than that, you're back at closing your walls.

You don't want Ellie anywhere near you. You already told her millions of times, she disgusts you, you abominate her. You hate every detail of her, every single thing.

And more than that, you hate that she doesn't respect your boundaries. Who does she think she is? You're a Hayes, if you snap your fingers, she can easily disappear from everyone's sights. Your family is good at making people disappear. 

You're fine right where you are, you don't need anyone thinking they understand you. They don't, and they never will. They will never understand what you went through, what happened because of you. They will never understand your pain.

A person is dead and you're the one to blame. 

At school, Isis talks to Dina and Jesse about how she needs Jesse to be your boyfriend. Of course they find the idea offensively stupid, but money always does it. And thankfully, you have a lot of it.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Ellie almost screams looking at her friends. 

They'd just told her about the money. Which is not that big of a deal, but everything related to your name has kept her on edge these past days.

“Yo, it's fair money. It's not like I'm going to have sex with her or anything.” Jesse says, sitting in front of Ellie while Dina is behind him, holding his shoulder.

“Yeah, not even kissing. But that brings a real question to the conversation: why doesn't she find a real boyfriend? Is she a dyke?” Dina says, curling a strand of her with her finger.

Ellie's eyes grow wide. She remembers what you've told her.

“No shit. Iris? The goody two shoes? She's definitely not a dyke.” She’s mad at you, but she would never take someone out of the closet.

“Yet, you’re still in love with her”

That makes Ellie’s face sink. Yes, she’s still in love with you. But you’re not.

Even though you said you do, your actions say otherwise; and as much as she loves you, she needs to love herself too. So she has decided to let you go. For good this time.

Ellie doesn't answer Dina's statement, but Dina sees it. She sees the moment something in Ellie's eyes change, she sees past her. And she knows, she just knows, that that is the exact moment Ellie gave up. The exact moment Ellie let you go.

“Well, she's very private about herself, it must be hard letting someone in. She seems introverted, it looks like it's hard for her to approach new people, let alone start a relationship.” Jesse says in an attempt to soothe the situation, but no one answers him; Dina too focused on staring Ellie, and Ellie too focused on not breaking down right there.

The silence stretches for a little too long before the bell rings and Jesse gets up and throws his bag over his shoulder. 

“See you two later” he says, giving Dina a small peck on her lips and firmly squeezing your shoulder before going to his class.

Dina looks at Ellie with sympathy. 

“I’m sorry. I feel for you, really. If you look close, she does give lesbian vibes. But everything says otherwise.” Dina gets closer and gives Ellie a side hug. 

“Do you want to talk about it? I know you've been in love with her since we were kids. It's okay if you're not okay.”

Ellie's eyes get glassy, her nose gets red and she looks up to try to hold her tears. Dina sighs and kisses the side of Ellie's head and lets go of her.

“I'm here if you need me.”

But Dina knows Ellie won't reach out for her not even in her darkest moments, she never does. 

Ellie skips the next classes in the bathroom, throwing up because you make her physically sick to her stomach. She hasn’t eaten much this morning - she can't eat when she’s worried about you -, but her body is making sure she puts everything out until there’s blood.

She hears steps entering the bathroom, but she’s too focused on not throwing up her stomach out to care about her opened stall door. 

The steps get closer and closer, until a sweet and familiar voice starts speaking to her.

“Oh God, are you okay?” The girl, you, gets down to hold Ellie's short hair away from her face. 

The auburn girl is crying now, full on sobbing.

“Hey, it’s okay. Just breath, okay? Breath with me.” she can’t really see anything because her vision is blurred by the tears, but one thing she can see is the cross pendant shining around your neck. Tears from pain, physically and emotionally, tears from relief, relief to know that you still care for her.

“Iris, I- I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry.” her sobs grow louder, the back of one of her hands coming up to cover her mouth and try to stop them. “I’m so sorry- Please, I’ll do anything, just- please Iris” she falls on your lap and - no, not your lap - she falls on Isis’s lap and keeps on crying, she can’t stop, she tried to, but she can’t. 

“Oh dear, it’s me, Isis.”

─────────────

When you get home, before dinner starts, Isis grabs your arm and shoves you inside her bedroom. 

“What did you do?” 

You look at her confused. 

“What are you talking about?”

Her eyes stare deep inside you, she can see the truth past you. She'll know if you lie.

“What did you do to Ellie?”

You swallow hard and your eyes tremble before you scoff.

“Ellie Williams? The loser?” you ask as if you didn't care. But oh god, how you do care. You care with your whole being, with your soul. But you can't risk things again, you have already learned your lesson.

Isis looks confused, disappointed even.

“What has gotten into you? Why are you acting like this?”

Your jaw moves.

“You think I didn't notice? You keep hurting and hurting her over and over along the years, while all she does is care for you! Of course I noticed it! For fuck sake, Iris! I'm your triplet!” 

She stops. Isis stops and looks at you perplexed by what she said, eyes moving side to side as the back of her throat starts to burn. Her eyes get glassy, mouth opening and closing as if she's trying to search for something to say. 

“My twin. You're my twin, Isis.” 

You crash your shoulder on hers on your way out of her room. 

“So, Jesse, what does your dad work with?” your dad asks, chewing on his food as you stared at your plate in complete shock.

It must have been intentional, but why would they do this to you? You've been so good, such a good daughter with good grades and a boyfriend — a fake one — but still.

Staring back at you from your plate, is a cow heart. 

Not cut into pieces, not as a steak, no. The whole organ, raw, beneath the rosé sauce. 

You bring your hand to your mouth, not sure if you're containing the absolute horror cry that is desperate to leave your mouth, or not to throw up.

From the other side of the table, your mom stares at you, face blank. She mouths “this is what you get for lying.” 

Jesse swallows his food before answering your dad.

“He's a mechanic, the best one of his shop!” the poor boy says excited and proud. 

Your dad doesn't even look at him. While he cuts his steak.

“And you think you're on my daughter’s level? Boy, I'm the owner of a brand of jewelry.”

After the shit show it was the dinner, you go to your bathroom and throw up all the raw meat you were forced to eat. 

Isis doesn't take long to get to you, holding your hair and stroking your back while she says she's sorry.

This is one of the times you think about ending your life, to dream of the end of your suffering. You've thought about ending things a lot of times, to be honest this is the thing you think about the most. But you can't do this to Isis, she pretends she's okay, but she's not. She's gone through enough, just like you.

“I can't take it anymore, Isis, I can't! It hurts!” you sob, and she knows you're not talking about the burn the vomit left on your throat. 

She doesn't know what to say, so she just cries. Cries like a baby, sobbing and all.

“This isn't right, our parents care more about the Bible than being good to their own child! Look what they've done! We should've asked for help, should have called the police” 

It's the first time in years you're talking about it openly.

“We were kids Iris, they wouldn't have believed us.” 

You hug your knees, moving side to side to try and calm yourself down.

“It's my fault. It was all my fault. We shouldn't have traded necklaces.” you start to repeat the same things over and over until Isis screams at you to stop.

“It wasn't your fault, forgive yourself. We were kids, Iris, kids.”

Your face is hot, tears streaming it and mixing with your mascara.

“I see her, Isis. Like a fever, like I'm burning alive.”

─────────────

The kids run happily inside the church – it's not a common church, it's a church for your religion. But the name is too hard for you to remember, you're just eleven.

The adults are in the basement doing adult stuff. 

Today is funnier than the other days because you and Iara changed places. You're using her purple flower necklace while she's using your pink one.

Isis said it was a bad idea, but she doesn't know what real fun feels like.

You go outside to meet with Sophia, Iara’s best friend ever. She makes your belly feel funny, so before you know it, you give her a peck. 

Your cheeks feel hot, and she's red. You wait to see how she will react, but she just smiles and gives you a hug. 

You two were so innocent, you didn't see the security camera right on top of you.

When you get back inside, Iara looks at you with a suspicious expression at your sudden happiness. 

“What did you do?” she asked, taking a piece of hair from her face. 

You looked at her, all innocence and beauty. 

“I did nothing, but you, Iara” you hold your finger at her chest “you just had your first kiss with Sophia!” 

She looks at you horrified.

“Are you crazy?” she starts laughing uncontrollably “That's enough of pretending today, give me my necklace back.” 

But there's the thing: when you traded necklaces earlier that morning, it wasn't in front of a camera, nor when you changed it back. 

So in the camera records, who kissed Sophia really was Iara. And that action led to so horrible consequences. 

You had post traumatic depression, so you don't remember how it really happened, but here's what you do remember:

The next day, they had checked the cameras, something they never did, but on that fatidic day, they did.

And of course they saw one of the most disgusting sins of your religion; two girls kissing. 

In the religion your parents obliged you to follow since you were babies, they had a ritual of purification, when a member of the family committed one of the unforgivable sins — they sacrificed them so the family would be purified from the disgusting sins. 

And that's what happened to Iara. They didn't care about your screams and pleads, they didn't listen when you said it was you. Instead, they read to you what it said in your Bible.

And without hesitation, they cut Iara's throat with a shiny and sharp blade that slid softly against the little girl's neck. Blood spilling on your parents' faces while fake emotionless tears fell down their faces.

But honey, that's not the whole ritual. That's not enough to purificate the sins. The youngest member of the family has to eat the heart. And for your own luck, you were the last one to be born.

That action was inexpiable. 

Inexpiable is an adjective describing actions, sins, or crimes that are too terrible to be forgiven, atoned for, or justified. It signifies something completely unpardonable and often carries a sense of lasting, irredeemable guilt or malice. 

Your parents only noticed that you were the one to commit the unforgivable sin when days from the sacrifice, they were watching the recordings of the same security camera that caught you and Sophie kissing, that they noticed the triplet hair was down.

Iara never left her hair down. 

It would be a shame for your family name to sacrifice another child, so they never told the truth to anyone. But they didn't need to. The truth never failed to burn inside you.

Since that day, they erased every piece of Iara from your lives, acting like they only had twins, never triplets.

They were inexpiable.

ઇ taglist ! @cherrybomb61 , @ssssduction , @kaykaifxck , @wqodwzrd , @lilicemito , @sani-sunny , @uniquewombatexpert , @seasonsofchaos , @ylxiru , @cutflwr

[kissedinlace]

loser ellie doing anything for you.

cw ─── ♡ ─── suggestive content

ellie sat on your vanity table, pencil in hand, calculator in the other. she shifts uncomfortably on the tiny stool she's on, as her leg bounces up and down.

"you sure i couldn't do this on the dining table? i mean, you don't even have a desk. for studying, was what i meant.." ellie murmurs, voice going smaller as she goes. she stays silent, her eyes roaming around the expensive makeup and perfumes that line the corners of your vanity.

you sit on top of your mattress, feel kicking the air as you tossed over an old fashion magazine. "nope. mom's having guests over..and besides. you make for really good eye candy."

ellie's cheeks flush, but she doesn't turn around. she forces her brain to power through the last couple problems, which isn't really a problem for her. its you that's kind of making this whole thing distracting.

she knows you're on top of that bed, barely anything covering you except that sheer linen slip on you wear to bed. most nights...well, only really tonight because you have her over. "..are you done?" you chime in, voice sweet as cherries and ellie can't help but shut her eyes, her self control wavering.

"mmhm. i just have to...finish these ones up. then i can move on to your history paper. if that's fine with you?.." her voice is unsure. always tedious around you. mostly because she doesn't want to say the wrong things around you.

you toss your feet over one another, standing up on your fluffy carpet. ellie can hear you shuffling around her and for once this entire night, she takes a tiny peek over her shoulder. she feels entranced. almost mesmerized just looking at you in such an intimate way. the dim candles making everything feel so close to one another.

your hands slide over the pads of her shoulders, and you dip. dip just enough that she can feel your breathing on the side of her head. she doesn't take her eyes off you. she looks at you with such easiness and vulnerability that makes her look like a dog.

you ruffle her hair, and she unconsciously nuzzles into your hold, your hands feeling like utter warmth that can spread across her. "...did i do...good?" she whispers. she won't hide it. won't hide the fact that she loves when you praise her for things. it's the only reason she agrees to do your homework. just for those few 'you did so good baby. you're so smart.'

"you're doing so, so good. you're just so good at these types of things." you coo.

"for you."

"hmm?"

"i'm good. for you." she says softly, lips parted in an almost pathetic way, eyes glued onto yours as she shifts to the side, facing you. "i''m good for you." she repeats.

you kiss her temple, your hand coming up to the back of her neck, making ellie shiver. her body unconsciously nudges into yours, seeking the comfort only you could give her. the tips of her fingers slip past the little fabric that covers you.

"tch. baby, you know what i said. finish it first" you repeat.

"i know. but i'll be able to finish it much quicker if you give me something to look forward to."

you can't fight off the smile on your lips as her fingers draw closer to the lining of your underwear. she leans on your stomach, her chin propped up as she waits for your answer, her eyes pleading as she gives you tiny, reassuring, yet desperate nods.

"..fine. but just five minutes." you say. her fingers waste no time in tugging your panties down, pen and calculator forgotten as she wraps her other arm around your waist, pulling you over to your bed.

"just five minutes okay? a tiny..tiny break." you repeat.

"whatever you say mommy."

[uncoolfemme]

being a smart femme is wanting to be fucked by a butch so hard that you become dumb

[saphicangel]

—MOTH BRAIN

synopsis: told through a series of diary entries, ellie records the thoughts she can’t silence, no matter how hard she tries. To the readers flipping through these pages: you’ve officially entered her mind. Good luck.

content warnings: kinda pervy ellie, suggestive content, ellie’s pov, informal style, loser!ellie, lowkey oblivious reader, obsessive themes, nerdy ellie, she is down bad, stalking? high school au (characters are eighteen).

؛༊ THE ART OF PRETENDING I'M NOT STARING

ellie's extremely gay diary entries about you, the girl who sits a row ahead of her in class, who she absolutely did not want to get paired with for the history project... probably.

؛༊ LET ME BE YOUR FOOL

being a lesbian means one swipe of strawberry lipgloss can alter the course of your entire life, and damn if ellie doesn't know it.

؛༊ IS IT CASUAL

ellie's perfect little bubble of delusion is popped when a guy takes an interest in you. what makes it worse is that she's almost certain you like him back…

؛༊ A MOTH WRITING LOVE LETTERS TO A LIGHTHOUSE

ellie spends an entire evening trying not to read into things. spoiler alert! she fails horribly.

؛༊ THE SHAPE OF AN UNASKED QUESTION

the worst thing about hope is how easily it disguises itself as possibility. ellie hears something that makes her question everything she thought she knew.

--comment here to be added to my taglist dividers by: @pixopix, @dollywons

Last updated: 4/6/2026

[lesmerri]

Yes, Coach

Pairing: Sugar Mommy Coach!Abby x Figure Skater!Reader Summary: Your skating coach also happens to be your sugar mommy. . . Contents: nsfw, smut headcanons, age gap (all 18+), secret relationship - but established, size kink, spanking, oral sex, strap on’s, edging, teasing, eye contact, fingering, tribbing/scissoring, car sex, lingerie, overstimulation.

˖᯽ ݁˖ Merri’s Notes. . . Need her to be rough with me. . .

Coach!Abby who is strict on the ice, pushing you to do your best, but outside she spoils you rotten.

Coach!Abby who only buys you the best equipment and outfits/costumes. Expensive ones. Beautiful custom made costumes for competitions, new ice skates, training equipment, jackets etc.

Coach!Abby who drives you to and from the rink every week. Who rests her large hand on your thigh whilst she drives, smoothing it up and down before resting at the top of your inner thigh.

Coach!Abby who knows when you’re getting too spoiled or asking for a tonne of stuff. Who pulls you against her with an arm around your waist, squeezing your ass in her hand. Who pulls you down over her lap and spanks you gently. Who only spanks you harder, turning your ass red and flushed, when you start whining.

Coach!Abby who sometimes lets you sleep over. Who sits you on the couch, holding your hips down with one arm as she fucks you with her tongue. Who moans into your cunt as you squirm and whimper beneath her. Who gives you one of her shirts to sleep in.

Coach!Abby who wraps your ponytail around her hand and pulls your head back as she thrusts into you from behind with her strap, forcing you to arch your back more. Who thrusts deep in you before stilling and leaning over to kiss you, making small grinding motions with her hips letting you feel every ridge of it.

Coach!Abby who wakes you up with her fingers circling your clit, dipping her fingers into your cunt until you’re bucking your hips up and whimpering on the edge. Who pulls her fingers out before you cum, and starts getting ready for the day. Who teases you all day, not letting you have what you want, until you’re begging and humping against her leg when you can’t sleep that night.

Coach!Abby who fucks you in the rink bathroom sometimes, holding a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. Who forces you to keep eye contact with her whilst she fucks you with her fingers, slowing down if you break it. Who makes you stare into her eyes as you come.

Coach!Abby who traps your head between her thighs when you’re eating her out, not letting you go until you’ve made her cum. Who loves hearing your little whimpers as kiss and lick her cunt like you’re worshipping and devouring her at the same time.

Coach!Abby who likes watching you stretch before practice, your body bending and twisting in ways that make her imagination run wild. Who pushes your legs apart, one bent and pressed against your chest as she rubs her cunt over your overstimulated clit, letting you squirm and whine beneath her.

Coach!Abby who holds you down on her muscular thigh, forcing you to grind against it until you’ve soaked through your panties and leggings. Who only starts helping you when you grip her shoulder tightly and start begging for her to just touch you.

Coach!Abby who tries to calm your nerves in the car, it’s only a small competition but you’re really nervous. Who eventually pulls over on the side of the road slides her hand down your sweatpants and into your underwear, ignoring your protests about how you’re technically in public. Who pounds your cunt with her fingers until your head is thrown back against the seat, cheeks flushed, as your walls clench tightly around them.

Coach!Abby who takes you shopping under the guise of getting some new skates, again, but somehow the both of you end up in the lingerie store. Who goes in the dressing room with you, running her hands over your skin, pinching your nipples, as you try some on. Who leaves the store with a new bag of lingerie and a blushing you.

Coach!Abby who pounds into you with her thick strap at night, not letting up until your legs are shaking and the sheets are soaked beneath you. Who watches you with a small cocky smile as you fumble slightly during practice the next day.

[sarafroot]

Hai

[satellitespinner]

𝓘𝑵𝑻𝑹𝑶𝑫𝑼𝑪𝑰𝑵𝑮… 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒!𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐒, 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛.

- 𝓮𝒎𝒕!𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆!𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒆 + 𝓯𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓!𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆!𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒚 𝒙 𝓻𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

part smau, part written series. no collective storyline, just the chaos of you and your smokeshow roommates. reader is wlw and doesnt have an explicit race, job, or look. imagine yourself! i do take requests for this collection! send em my way!

for my beautiful sleepy angel @elsfawns 🤍

𝓜𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 :

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒔 !

𝑂𝑁𝐸 (𝑇𝐸𝑋𝑇𝑆)

𝑇𝑊𝑂 (𝑇𝐸𝑋𝑇𝑆)

⟡ 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭; @letmebeurbaby , @les4elliewilliams , @seasonsofchaos , @liztreez , @andieprincessofpower , @notlinear , @zzelysian, @cinnamongirlsev , @ghostofmaxx , @frosttbitten , @kirammanss , @merquriie , @iadorefineshyt , @sophislover , @thatredheadloserlesbian , @shadowmythe , @musingsfromtheflowers , @gutturalslut , @2pleaseyou , @cherrybomb61 , @piercedome , @elliefavvs , @leilune @lonelyoutinjackson , @l0veylace , @sawaagyapong , @sashaaaur , @slut4elliewills , @ph4rmacyfa1rie , @cherrybomb61 , @rhian88 , @badbaewatch , @m0on1ight1 , @velvetinkbym , @thinkingabtellie . comment to be added / removed. 

@thinkingabtellie @isaellie @halle5s @eclipszr @aprickot @merrilypurplemoon @armeenix @elliesmikr @mimisafemme @deertrxworld @sevslut @princesssified

[jeniferprince]

I've got a crush on you 💘

patreon // buy prints here

[sighbils]

What are they listening to?

[bbybluemochi]

[oc] more vampire!cotton 🦇🖤

[bbybluemochi]

[OC] Cotton wearing a belt that looks like a strap-on harness is my new obsession (belt inspired by this design)

[ilovewomenfr]

*˖ ݁𖥔𝑭𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑪𝒐𝒑!𝑾𝒊𝒇𝒆!𝑬𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒕𖥔 ݁ ˖*

**i do not support the current system of policing in any way shape or form i just thought this idea was entertaining so im writing it. don’t like, don’t read.**

cw - established relationship, police, flashing, suggestive, implied smut, ellie’s easy as hell (whats new), not proofread only skimmed

As you drive home from work, you get a little lead footed with the gas when you break free from the bumper-to-bumper traffic on the highway. The colour begins returning to your knuckles as your grip on the steering wheel loosened and posture returning to it’s usual relaxed state. Eager to slip off your tight shoes and climb into bed with your sweats on after putting dinner in the oven, you speed up. You were maybe 10 kilometres over the limit, barely past 60 rather than going 50.

Cars turn off the main road while the sun sets, darkness washing over quickly, street lamps and blinding LED’s providing the only light. Had the street been less empty, you wouldn’t have thought twice when you see red and blue in your rearview. Adjusting it, you notice a cruiser flashing its lights at you. Perfect. It’s not like you had incessant assholes on the phone all day, mad you had to reschedule their appointments. The siren chirps twice, and you roll your eyes as you pull over.

When you see who walks out of the driver’s seat, you almost laugh. Almost—you’re still annoyed something’s gotten in the way of you, your pyjamas, and a glass of wine. Her hair is pulled up messily in the same half-up half-down she threw it in this morning before she left, and you can see the grin on her face as she approaches your car.

She stops at your window, arms crossed as she peers inside, the expression plastered across her face letting you know she’s about to do some bullshit. Sighing, you roll down your window;

“Seriously, Ellie?”

“Do you have any idea how fast you were going, ma’am?”

“You have got to be kidding me,” you shoot her the most irritated look you can as she leans against the car, casualness taking over her posture as her forearms rest on the open window.

“Ten over. I’ll have to ticket you for that y’know.” She answers for you, reaching for the booklet in her belt. “License and registration?”

“Everyone goes ten over.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s legal, ma’am.” Usually the whole ma’am thing she did turned you on, but right now it wasn’t doing anything but piss you off.

“Quit the ma’am thing. It’s annoying me right now.” You reach over into the glove box and pass the ziploc bag of documents to her, then dig through your purse for your wallet.

“You’re for real giving me a ticket for ten over?” You ask, the plastic card between your index and middle finger as you pass it over. Ellie just hums as she reads over the registration and her pen begins to scratch against the paper of her booklet.

“If I pop a tit can I get out of it?”

“That’s no way to talk to an officer. I could add another ticket for bribery.” Her tone opposes her words, voice dipping as her eyes roam your chest. You raise your eyebrows, “Are you supposed to leer at civilians, officer?”

“You’re the one who offered.” Her lip between her teeth as she raises her brows and puts her bodycam face up on your console. To that, you chuckle,

“You’re taking the offer?” Your tone almost condescending as you watch her cheeks bloom pink. She quickly replies:

“When have I ever said no to seeing your tits?”

You have to agree, she makes a very valid point. The street is asleep, no sounds other than the occasional dog bark or cricket chirp. The only light reflecting on the asphalt is shining from the moon and lamps that are scattered every twenty feet. Still, you crane your neck to make sure no cars are coming in either direction. Over your shirt, you reach a hand behind yourself and unclasp the bra, shrugging the straps down the short sleeves of the blouse before lazily pulling it up and off, tossing the bra on the passenger’s seat. And you slowly unbutton the top of the fabric.

When your breasts spill out, your eyes find Ellie’s face, her own completely focused on your chest. You watch as her pupils dilate, and her breathing rushes.

“Fuck,” She reaches a hand out, barely passing the windowsill before it’s met with a light slap from you.

“When did I say you could touch?” You scold her, voice stern as you begin to button the shirt back up.

She almost whines, “That’s not fair.”

“You’ll live,” you glance at the clock, she had about an hour or so before her shift ended. She tries to plead her case, but you refuse to let her complete any of the sentences she begins.

“I’ll let you do what you want at home how ‘bout that?” You suggest, and her green eyes light up.

Ellie can’t help the smile that grows when the words leave you. “Be on the bed when I get home?”

You shrug, “What if I start without you?”

Her eyes turn hungry as she leans fully in the car to kiss you, one hand at the nape of your neck, the other reaching to the discarded camera on the console. It’s sweet in the way only someone whose lips fit perfectly against yours could be. Deep and hungry while just barely being more than a peck. It’s still enough for both your minds to wander towards what will happen later. Her mouth moves against your own as she murmurs, “Do whatever. Surprise me.”

With the ticket completely forgotten, she stands back up, reattaching her bodycam as she walks backwards to her cruiser, a giddy smile adorning her face.

surprise unplanned blurb while we wait for me to finish medic x abby 😚

alternate ending: she takes you to the back of her car and fucks you

[littlexdeaths]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞, 𝐚𝐤𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬.

a/n: this is barely proofread and short, but I’m just extra horny for her today. enjoy freaks xx.

she’d been lapping at your cunt for well over an hour, having pulled two orgasms from you already in that time with the combination of her quick-witted tongue and three of those thick fingers buried inside you. but the flames coiling in your lower belly never fully seemed to extinguish themselves they way they normally would have by now.

“abs,” you mewl, fingers curling into the sweaty hair at the nape of her neck. suddenly unsure of what you need when you your hips jerk away from her skillful tongue.

“tell me what you want, pretty girl,” she rasps, keeping her fingers buried to the hilt inside you as she finally meets your half-lidded gaze from where she lays between your still trembling thighs.

but one perfect curl of her fingers as she adjusts her position has pleasure shooting up your spine, and you answer by rocking your hips down harder onto her fingers, keeping a tight grip on her hair.

“you want my tongue again or—”

you cut her off with a loud and desperate moan, shaking your head as you frantically start fucking yourself back onto her fingers.

“well that’s a first,” she teases, pressing her flushed cheek to your inner thigh and gently nipping the soft flesh there.

her chin is still shining with a mixture of her spit and your arousal, her blonde hair soft and mussed from all your constant tugging. but she’s never looked more effortless gorgeous than she does right in that moment and your immediately clench harder around her fingers.

“fuck, go faster,” you plead.

she leans up on her elbow then, dark blue eyes focused entirely on where her fingers are continuing to disappear inside you. abby spreads her other hand flat against your lower belly, pressing down as she starts pistoning her fingers inside you.

“oh my god,” you practically scream, back arching up off the mattress when you feel the tips of her calloused fingers continue to bully your g-spot.

tears of pure pleasure stream steadily down your cheeks as you come—loud and messy, completely soaking her hand and the tan skin of her forearm.

but abby doesn’t stop fucking you, she merely slows her pace as she leans up and over you to press a sloppy but urgent kiss to your mouth before she murmurs a rough, “fuck, think you can do that again for me, baby?” against your lips.

[elsfawns]

　　　　　　　୨୧ 𝒉𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒐.ᐟ

‧₊˚ ⋅   ❤︎ 　 . . . 　vi and ellie have been best friends since the dawn of time. they've grown accustomed to sharing everything over the years — secrets, clothing, immaculate taste in music and films ... and apparently, girls, too!

♡₊˚　────　gf!vi x reader x ellie . soccer players!vi & ellie , they're besties too! lots of smut , threesomes , sharing is caring ♡ , see individual chapters for more warnings <3 minors & ageless blogs do not interact!

𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒆'𝒔   𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆   . . .   ౨ৎ 　collab with my love @cinnamongirlsev !!!! i am so so excited abt this!!!!

i. body to body by fee ♡

ii. ?? ♡

iii. ?? ♡

iv. ?? ♡

[wavesgocrash]

The Only One

PossessiveRoommate!Ellie

pt 2 : “Words Baby”

Ellie was your randomly assigned roommate- besides being a little bit messy, she was great, not too loud, smoked a little bit too much weed, and was super smart, always helped you with your homework, and never brought any guys home. However, it was blatantly obvious she didn’t like guys. That’s what you get for checking LGBTQ+ friendly.

All was well, even when, about halfway through the semester, you noticed she had become more protective of you.

NO mention of "y/n" POC friendly, Body friendly,LMK if it's not, I will fix it. No use of AI.

TW: obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, drinking, mentions of w33d, yearning ellie, no smut..yet.

YOU are responsible for the content you consume

It’s only the third week of the semester, and the phase where you enjoy everything about your new roommate is still in effect..

I’m sitting on the floor in our shared space, surrounded by three different biology textbooks, when the door swings open. Ellie wanders in, smelling faintly of the "study break" she just took outside. She looks at my pile of notes and whistles low.

"You're still on the Krebs cycle?" she asks, dropping her bag. "You’ve been staring at that since I left."

"It’s not clicking," I sigh, rubbing my eyes.

She walks over and sits down on the floor across from me.

She’s close enough that our knees almost touch. She reaches out and pivots my textbook toward her.

"Think of it like a skin care routine,"

She says, her finger tracing a diagram. She’s brilliant, explaining it with a casual ease that makes me feel like I’ve been overcomplicating my whole life.

As she talks, I find myself watching her hands; they’re stained on the sides with a bit of graphite and charcoal. She catches me looking and stops mid-sentence.

For a second, the air in my lungs catches, and the room goes silent. She doesn't pull away; she just holds my gaze with an arched eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

"Eyes on the ATP,” she teases, though her voice has a slight rasp to it that wasn't there a second ago.

The tension breaks when my phone buzzes on the carpet. It’s a text from my orientation group asking if I want to grab pizza. I start typing a reply, and I notice Ellie’s eyes shift. She doesn’t move to stop me; we’re still practically strangers, after all. Her posture stiffens, though, I think. She stops leaning in and sits back on her heels.

"Going out?" she asks. It’s a casual question, but there’s a new curiosity in her eyes.

"Maybe. Just pizza."

She watches me for a beat too long, her thumb tracing the edge of my desk. "The pizza place on 4th?" When I nod, she frowns slightly. "The lighting is terrible there. Hard to study."

It’s a weirdly specific critique. She stands up and heads toward her side of the room, but as she passes, she "accidentally" brushes her hand against my shoulder. It’s a quick, fleeting contact, but her fingers linger just a fraction of a second more than necessary.

"Just... text me when you’re heading back," she says, tossing a stray hoodie over her shoulder. "In case I decide to lock the door early. I’m a heavy sleeper."

Confused about what just happened and why Ellie’s mood shifted so quickly, I put on my shoes to leave.

About two weeks later, it’s a rainy Tuesday afternoon

The blue light of the TV flickers across the dark room as the rain drums against the window. I’m curled up on the couch, lost in some mindless show, when the door clicks open. Ellie drifts in, a cool dampness and the unmistakable, pungent scent of herbal sweetness clinging to her oversized jacket.

"Hey," she says, her voice a bit slower than usual. She drops her keys on the counter and collapses onto the other end of the couch. "What are we watching?"

"Just some reality junk," is the reply, accompanied by a glance toward her. Ellie looks relaxed in a way that seems difficult to master. "Ellie?"

"Yeah?"

"Is it... is it what I think it is? That smell?"

She freezes. The lazy slump of her shoulders vanishes, replaced by a sudden alertness. She turns her head, her brow furrowed. "It's nothing you need to worry about. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious. You seem so calm."

She stares for a long time, eyes searching with an intensity that makes the heart skip. "Being calm is one thing, but this isn't for everyone," she says, her voice dropping into a protective low. "It can make a person feel out of control. It isn't a good idea to start messing with that."

She moves closer, sitting so our knees are almost pressed together, creating a small, private world on the cushions. "Look, if you're feeling stressed, we can try it, but only if you promise to only do it when I’m around. We can go for a walk when the rain stops, or just talk. I’m here, okay?"

The thumb grazes a jawline as she steadies the conversation, her touch warm and firm. "I've got you. Just breathe."

As the rhythm of the rain continues to soften the edges of the room, she isn't watching the TV anymore. She’s focused entirely on the person next to her, her gaze unwavering and protective.

She promises another time since we can’t smoke inside, but she makes me promise not to do it without her anyway.

I think about my promise to her often, refusing weed, only wanting to try it with her.

It’s mid- semester, at a party, and the air at this off-campus house is a suffocating mix of body heat and cheap tequila. I’m leaning against a sticky kitchen counter, the room tilting dangerously to the left. I definitely overdid it on the jungle juice.

"You okay, gorgeous? You look a little lost."

A guy I don't recognize, tall, smelling of old cigarettes and..Axe? He steps into my personal space. He puts a hand on the wall behind my head, effectively pinning me against the counter. I try to laugh, but it feels sluggish.

"I'm fine," I slur, trying to push past him. "Just looking for my roommate."

"I can be your roommate for the night," he says, his grin widening in a way that makes my stomach churn for reasons that have nothing to do with the alcohol. He reaches out, his hand sliding down my arm to grip my wrist. "Come on, let’s go somewhere quieter. I’ve got a car outside."

I feel a cold spike of fear through the haze, but my legs feel like lead. "No, I—"

Suddenly, the heavy bass of the music seems to cut out as a familiar, sharp voice slices through the noise.

"She said no."

Ellie is suddenly there. She doesn't look like the messy girl who helps me with calculus; she looks dangerous. She steps right between us, her shoulder checking the guy hard enough to make him stumble back. She’s shorter than him, by only a few inches, it only hits me now, Ellie is rather tall. She stares him down with a cold, predatory focus that stops him mid-sentence.

"Who the hell are you?" the guy snaps, trying to regain his footing.

"The person who’s going to break your nose if you don’t let go of her wrist in the next three seconds," Ellie says. Her voice isn't loud, but it’s steady and deadly serious.

The guy looks at her, then at me, and mutters something about "crazy bitches" before vanishing into the crowd.

The second he’s gone, Ellie’s demeanor shifts. She turns to me, her hands hovering near my shoulders but not touching me yet. "Hey," she says, her voice dropping to that soft, raspy register. "Look at me. You're okay."

"Ellie," I breathe, leaning into her.

She catches me, wrapping a firm arm around my waist to keep me upright. She doesn't lead me toward the dance floor or the drinks; she heads straight for the door. "We're going home," she says firmly.

As we walk to her car, she keeps her arm locked around me, pulling me flush against her side. The cool night air helps clear my head, but the way she’s holding me…tight, possessive, like she’s never letting go, is what really wakes me up.

When she buckles me into the passenger seat, my world still spinning, she lingers for a moment, her face inches from mine as she checks the seatbelt. "Don't ever wander off like that again," she whispers, her eyes dark and intense. "I'm the only one who can take care of you. Remember that."

Blushing and drunk, I can’t keep my eyes off of her. Waking up in the morning, I can barely remember, and Ellie pretends as if it didn’t happen, so I do too.

Her words ring out in my head, though

“I'm the only one who can take care of you. Remember that."

The air in the dorm is thick—not just from the haze of Ellie's mid-afternoon smoke, but with a tension that hums whenever we're in the same room. It's a quiet, vibrating energy that makes the hair on my arms stand up.

I'm sitting at my desk, struggling with a lab report, when I hear her move behind me.

She doesn't say anything; she just leans over my shoulder to look at the screen. Her hair, smelling of lavender and ash, brushes against my cheek.

"You're overthinking the hypothesis," she murmurs. Her hand reaches out, not to point at the screen, but to briefly cover mine on the mouse. Her skin is warm. "Let me."

She doesn't pull away once the cursor is moved. She stays there, her chest inches from my back, creating a physical barrier between me and the rest of the room. It feels less like a gesture of help and more like she's marking her territory.

After a while, I can’t stand the tension, grab the things I head to the library.

When I return two hours later because of the library closing.

I find her sitting in the dark of our common room.

She isn't on her phone. She isn't studying.

She's just waiting.

I drop my keys onto the cluttered coffee table, pushing aside a stack of Ellie’s half-finished sketches and an empty bag of gummies. The smell of sweet, skunky weed hangs light in the air—the familiar perfume of our shared dorm.

Anyyyywaysss should I make this a series?!

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