âËŕż Black lipstick stains her glass of red wine...
Lethe or Guts | she/her | 18 | loser lesbian | cuban american | fic writer | lover of tlou women | weird au fanatic
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DNI men, minors, ai users, & bigots. i don't feel comfortable having minors on my page where i do write adult content. men you know what you did. fuck ai. and if you're transphobic, homophobic, racist, or anything else like that you ain't welcome here
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i do take requests! no guarantee that i'll write every request i receive, but i welcome all except for the usual no's.
my work is my own. do not translate or share on other platforms, or feed it to ai.
âËŕż I am your servant, may I light your cigarette?
Imagine attending the renfaire/fantasy festival with Gf!Abby hmmmm
âŞŕŻRenfaireAbby! who makes sure her girl stays hydrated!! This girl is filling your bottle back up at every waterpoint you come across,
âŞŕŻRenfaireAbby! Also slathers you with sunscreen around the clock, and intently watched you do your skincare that morning, ENSURING you put on sunscreen before any of your makeup
âŞŕŻRenfaireAbby! Carrying a backpack to carry all of the heavy stuff despite her shoulder being all achey, she insists :(
âŞŕŻRenfaireAbby! Being all akward and almost shy at her first renfaire, because why are people so nice? Why are people staring so much? Did she look silly? (yes people are looking at her because imagine this cutiepie beefcake in some armour, who wouldn't look?)
âŞŕŻRenfaireAbby! And matching costumes! you and her, maybe 2 knights, karlach and shadowheart, a princess and her knight, a mermaid and a pirate? She loves it, every suggestion is welcome
âŞŕŻRenfaireAbby! Who never thought she'd be dressing up like this. For some reason she was scared to, it felt childish, but then after realizing the coolest people are in costume warms up to it. Gradually ofcourse.
âŞŕŻRenfaireAbby! Who definently does a double take at everything being offered at the stalls. Crazy clothes, handmade trinkets, yummy food, accesories and the jewellery
âŞŕŻRenfaireAbby! Stopping right at a stall of handmade jewellery, her arm hooked around yours. You almost trip because she just stops dead in her tracks, she's looking at the rings. When she realizes she's been caught her cheeks glow bright red and she quickly ushers you away
(RenfaireAbby! Who managed to sneak off right as the stall's owner was cleaning everything up and ends up buying that ring for you. You won't see it right away ofcourse because she's planning something veryyyyy special)
âŞŕŻRenfaireAbby! Pushing you off to a bench and pointing at you, giving a small lecture to stay there and rest whilst she gets in line for your food. She can't have you on your feet too long, what if they get sore?
âŞŕŻRenfaireAbby! After a few fairs growing comfortable with it, now her favoriate thing to do is bring a blanket, rolling it out and just laying in the grass with you. Sharing some food and soda, maybe even mead and listening to the music from a performing band in the distance
RenfaireAbby! Who forges her own dagger at the faire, she loves that thing and has it on a pretty stand in the cabinet back at home now. She made sure to insist your and her initials were carved into the handle
âŞŕŻRenfaireAbby! Loses her mind seeing they have pine soap at the faire, and it somehow smells even better than the stuff she gets from the store. She usually doesn't buy much from faires other than gifts for you, shared items and food but you did end up spending over 60 bucks on pine candles, soaps, lotions and sprays. She's so happy about it too :<
âŞŕŻRenfaireAbby! Tries bow and arrow shooting, spoilers, she's really fucking good
âŞŕŻRenfaireAbby! Loves, LOVES the jousting shows
âŞŕŻRenfaireAbby! and you slowly accumilating a whole friendgroup just by attending faires. After losing most of her friends other than Manny and Norah she had a hard time finding new ones, but now ya'll get this whole group together, rent a big ass B&B, and get weekend passes. Just like a mini vacation except cooler cause you spend it watching owl shows, jousting, eating turkey legs and getting drunk off mead.
âŞŕŻRenfaireAbby! Fucking loves chimney cakes, rabid, drooling, slobbering, pouty while she waits for her one to be made, tummy rumbling. CHIMNEY CAKES THEY ARE SO YUMMY
She litterly wants to share everything on her plate 24/7 since the day you met her, but that chimney cake? It's hers, down to every last grain of sugar stuck to her fingers and the crumbs at the bottom of the bag. You want some? Get your own, and you can't blame her. Let her have this one thing guys :(((
âŞŕŻRenfaireAbby! Bringing Manny for the first time, a little scared of judgement. Spoilers, Manny ended up loving it aswell and ended up in your usual faire schedual, always tagging along now
âŞŕŻRenfaireAbby! Always playing along with the kids, acting stabbed when they play swords, acting like a ferocious beast and playing hide and seek. She never really liked kids until now, and now that baby fever is hitting... hard.
âŞŕŻRenfaireAbby! and you sitting down at a calm booth, two women working and softly humming as the two of you sit side-by-side, getting your hair braided. Bonus points if you get a braid like her, (it gets her all emotional), EXTRA bonus points if you both get flowers in the braids
âŞŕŻRenfaireAbby! Having you in her lap during shows and acts because there are so little seats, neither of you are complaining. How cute would it be, you in her lap, her thighs bouncing you up and down to the beat of the music, she's so immersed and happy, clapping along
-----------------------------------------------------------
ABBY YOU DESERVE TO BE HAPPY AND WHIMSICAL
đŁ˛â á˘.â¸.á˘â A/n; inspired by me and surviving another faire, with unfortunately 0 blonde buff baddies spotted at said faire. In all seriousness this little hc fic is my special interests colliding, because i truly do have so much fun at these events.
If you are unfamiliar with faires or just never attended one, i'd recommend watching Sarah Spaceman, she has some rlly cute faire videos up wich capture the essence and overall vibe of renfaires really well and her narration is very cute!
Thanks for reading :>
So sorry I havenât written anything in so longđIâve found employment! Iâm working as a prep cook which is cool (writing Order Up influenced my career path I swear) but Iâm also so fuckin tired and highkey do NOT feel like writing. So as of now Rooted is on hiatus until inspiration strikes. Could be in a week, could be a few months, idk. So sorry for those who have been looking forward to it. Also those of you who have sent requests I have not given up on them!!! Someday trust.
Again Iâm so sorryđ Iâll still be lurking around though so idk idk man my brain is fried.
these are all with a x waitress!reader in mind just an fyi! the headcanons are all sfw, but I can always do some nsfw ones later if anyone is interested. enjoy babes xx.
line cook!abby is scary. at least, thatâs what youâd heard before you even stepped foot in the kitchen of the point bravo bar & grill. majority of the front of house staff are terrified of her, and honestly? you can absolutely see why. coming in at five foot nine and built like a ox, abbyâs sarcastic, brutally honest and intimidating without even trying.
but to make matters worse, sheâs ridiculously hot.
which seems incredibly unfair considering she spends most of her shifts sweaty, mildly irritated and covered in grease. her shirt sleeves are always rolled up past her broad shoulders, dark ink and muscles on full display. but itâs not even her physical physique or devastatingly pretty face that rendered you speechless that first day.
no, it was how she looked you in the eye after you royally fucked up an order half-way through the dinner rush. how you were fully expecting the hostility that everyone had warned you about, only to receive a soft, âhey, relax. itâs no big deal.â before she quietly remade the order without giving you any grief for it.
line cook!abby has two different modes during a lunch or dinner rush: weirdly calm and terrifyingly competent or one minor inconvenience away from burning the entire restaurant down.
line cook!abby works the grill and flat-top primarily, usually alongside her roommate (and best friend) manny. the two of them argue like an old married couple most of the time, which you find hilarious.
line cook!abby has a personal beef with ticket machine. she had broken at least 5 in the entire time sheâs worked there, and marlene tells her that the next one is coming out of her paycheck. but it never actually does.
line cook!abby who says things like, âbehindâ, âmoveâ, âcornerâ like a drill sergeant.
line cook!abbyâs work uniform consists of an array of oversized band tees or cut off tees, cargo shorts or sweatpants and a bleach stained apron. she wears her hair in a neat braid down the middle of her back, or in a messy bun. but if her hair is pissing her off that day sheâll throw it into a low ponytail, put on a backwards dad hat and call it good enough.
line cook!abby apparently âhas a thing for pretty waitressesâ according to manny. but the only waitress sheâs ever been soft on is you.
line cook!abby is addicted to caffeine. she cannot go a whole shift without pounding at least two energy drinks or an extra large iced coffee.
line cook!abby constantly checks to make sure youâve eaten during your shift. and if you try to tell her youâre too busy or you forgot? suddenly a basket of fries or a grilled cheese will appear next to you while youâre ringing in an order at the kiosk. and sheâll mumble a stern, âgo eat. now.â before disappearing back behind the line like itâs no big deal.
line cook!abby who runs extremely hot. if sheâs not on the line you can usually find her in the walk-in trying to cool herself off and grumbling about how, âmarlene needs to fix the damn air conditioner already.â
line cook!abby is always in control of the aux in the kitchen when sheâs working and is not afraid to smack anyone who tries to change the music. you and manny can usually tell what kind of mood sheâs in by what genre of music sheâs playing. so if creed, matchbox twenty or theory of a deadman is blaring when you clock in, you already know sheâs been having a rough afternoon.
line cook!abby wears her irritation and annoyance plainly on her face. sheâs snarky and short with almost everyone, but the minute you ask for something? she visibly softens, and does whatever you asked for without question.
âabs, can I get another basket of fries, please?â and with a soft flutter of your lashes or a warm smile, sheâs folding immediatelyâdumping a fresh batch of fries into a basket and sliding them into the expo window without uttering a single complaint.
âchrist, you are so fucking whipped, cariĂąo.â
line cook!abby keeps a bandana in her back pocket or a clean towel draped over her shoulder to be able to wipe the sweat from her face throughout her shift. the one time she didnât seem to have one and had to use the hem of her t-shirt, you nearly dropped an entire tray of food.
line cook!abby has the biggest praise kink. you tell her something she made was delicious? instantly bashful, ears turning pink as she ducks her head and tries to pretend you didnât just turn her insides to mush. and youâre absolutely tucking that information away for later.
line cook!abby gets weirdly possessive over kitchen tools. she once threatened manny that sheâd scrub their toilet with his toothbrush if he ever touched her knives again.
line cook!abby absolutely cannot flirt like a normal person. so she shows her affection in subtle ways like: not complaining or giving you shit when you mess up an order, carrying the ice bucket up to the bar for you because itâs âpainful to watch you struggleâ, staying late to help you roll silverware after she finishes her own closing duties, playing paramoreâs entire discography during a shift that youâre both working together just because she heard you tell leah that theyâre one of your favorite bands.
line cook!abby always walks you to your car if the two of you are scheduled to close together. even if she finishes her closing duties faster than you.
line cook!abby absolutely despises remakes or substitutions on orders, and sheâs not afraid to let someone know just how much it annoys her.
âthe menu says no substitutions, canât people fucking read?â
âabby, theyâre literally allergic to onions.â
âsounds like a personal problem.â
line cook!abby always has a toothpick or pen shoved behind her ear, or stuck in between her teeth. sheâs also constantly chewing gumâmostly because she knows it annoys the hell out of manny but baby girl has a oral fixation. she just doesnât want to admit it.
line cook!abby will absolutely complain about having to close, but itâs secretly her favorite shift to work. especially if youâre on the schedule.
line cook!abby takes a lot of pride in her work, even when sheâs slammed and is glaring at every new ticket that comes through like they personally insulted her. but even then she never lets a plate go out on the floor looking like a damn mess.
the one exception she ever made was the time your ex came in and made it their personal mission to make your night a living hell. so when she found you crying in the walk-in not long after, she âaccidentallyâ let that burger burn to a crisp before sending it out with a satisfied smirk.
line cook!abby who always seems to smell like a combination of fresh citrus, old spice and smoke from the grill, no matter how often she washes her clothes.
line cook!abby is constantly burning her hands on something. half the time she doesnât really react anymore besides cursing under her breath or mumbling a barely audible, âyeah that was fucking dumb, abigail.â to herself.
but if you are in the back when it happens? youâll insist on helping her bandage it until she finally relents with the most adorable scowl.
line cook!abby is terrible at hiding her jealousy. while she doesnât cause a scene, or become overly possessiveâif she sees a customer flirting with you, she absolutely makes it everyone elseâs problem.
sheâs slamming pans harder than necessary, muttering constant curses under her breath at the grill, shouting for âsomeone to run this fucking food already!â the second it appears in the expo window. lev finds it a little too hilarious and is always roasting her when heâs bringing clean dishes up from the pit.
line cook!abby is extremely sentimental. you wrote her a little thank you note on the back of a discarded receipt once before you two started dating and she still has it taped to the inside of her locker.
line cook!abby isnât big on pda, but when she realizes how much her touch seems to affect you, she makes any and every excuse to get her hands on you when youâre working together. whether itâs a hand against the small of your back as she passes behind you in the kitchen, curling a finger into the loop of your jeans to pull you out of the way when another staff member is dashing around the corner, sneaking up behind you to rest her chin on your shoulder when youâre ringing an order in.
she thinks sheâs being subtle most of the time, but abby is about as subtle as a bull in a china shop.
Guttt what happened to rooted? Is it cancelled?? đŤđŤđŁđŁ
HIII Iâm alive Iâm so sorry Iâve disappeared but I am alive I am still here!!!
Rooted is NOT CANCELLED I promise I will finish this fic. I have started writing the next chapter, I have no idea when I will finish it but I definitely will.
Love you all hoping to be back writing at a good frequency soon <3
pairing: new farmer reader x emo ellie OR artist abby
Quitting your corporate job and moving to your dead grandpa's run-down farm might have been a bad choice. Especially when you realize that Pelican Town is weird as hell. Though, there are some nice parts...
content & warnings: men & under 16 dni ; stardew valley au ; game knowledge not required ; abby focused chapter ; short chap sorry chat
wc: 917 words
masterlist
Itâs that time in the afternoon when the sun is just starting to dip, but hasnât yet let up on the heat. Your muscles have been in a constant state of aching ever since your first day in the valley, but today has been particularly brutal. Watering your crops, feeding the chickens, repairing the fences, itâs all been a lot. And now youâre clearing out some trees on a far corner of the farm, swinging the axe as exhaustion sets in.Â
Youâve just finished hauling the lumber back to the farmhouse when you hear footsteps on the dirt path. It hooks your attention straight awayâ it really isnât very often that someone comes to visit instead of you having to seek them out.Â
You straighten up and wipe the sweat off your forehead, turning to look with a smile that grows wider when you see Abby walking towards you. Sheâs got something in her arms, something big covered in a white cloth.Â
âHey,â you say, putting a hand up across your brow to shield your eyes from the sun.Â
âHey.â Abby smiles back at you. âAre you busy right now?â
You shake your head and pull off your work gloves. âJust finished. What do you have there?â
She looks at the object in her arms and adjusts it a bit, like she just remembered it.Â
âRight, that,â she says with a slight, embarrassed chuckle. âItâs nothing. Itâs for you, but you donât have to take it if you donât like it.â
You stop. Itâs for you. Youâve been so focused on giving things to everyone else that you havenât realized that this is the first time in a very long time that someone has given something to you.Â
âI havenât seen it yet, but I think I already like whatever it is.â
The thud it makes when she sets it down makes you realize it must be a lot heavier than you initially thoughtâ she just made carrying it look easy.
She grabs the edge of the cloth, then hesitates just long enough for you to start getting impatient before she finally takes a deep breath and reveals it.Â
Beneath the cloth is a sculpture. Smooth carved wood in shapes that you didnât realize wood could make. You recognize it a little bit. Itâs the same sculpture youâd seen in her cabin, now finished.Â
You tilt your head a bit, stepping aside to look at it from another angle. This way, it becomes a little more clear what it is. Itâs still abstract, but you can see a human form in the wood, hands outstretched. Thereâs something hanging a couple inches away from the figureâs hands, and you canât really tell what it is. You can just see the longing in the figureâs shape.
âThis is beautiful,â you murmur, carefully running your fingers over one of the smooth sections of wood. Just to make sure itâs real.Â
âI almost didnât finish it,â Abby says. âWasnât sure what I was doing with it.â
âWhat made you decide?â You ask, finally looking away from the sculpture and up at her. She still looks unsure.
â...Well, remember that day you came over? When you brought me the blueberries? Thatâs when I figured it out.â
Itâs not exactly an answer, but at this point you know her well enough to hear what sheâs trying to say. It was you. Not the blueberries, or the day itself.Â
âAre you sure you want to give this to me?â You ask quietly. âI canât imagine how long something like this must take. And there are people who would happily pay thousands for this.â
Abby shakes her head quickly.Â
âNo, itâs for you,â she insists. âUnless you donât want it. Which is fine, I wonât be offended.â
You laugh. âItâs definitely not thatâ I want it. Itâs amazing. Itâs just a little hard to comprehend that youâre giving it to me.â
âYouâre always giving people stuff,â she points out. âNow youâre going to stand there and tell me you donât understand a gift?â
You sigh. âFair point.â
Itâs quiet between you two for a bit. Abby seems more comfortable now, definitely less unsure. Youâre back to admiring the sculpture, walking around to discover all the new angles and what they reveal.Â
âLike I said,â Abby says quietly. âYou donât have to keep it. I can take it back.â
You look up at her again, brows furrowed. She seemed comfortable a moment ago, but now sheâs shifted back to being on edge and unsure.Â
âIâm not giving this back,â you say. Because yeah, thereâs no way youâre giving it up without a fight.Â
Abby laughs and rubs a hand over the back of her neck.Â
âAlright, alright. Relax, Iâm not trying to take it from you.â
âYou better not.â
Abby rolls her eyes, but you see the fondness in her smile before you turn your gaze back to the sculpture.Â
She gives you a long moment to look before she speaks again.Â
âI better get going before it gets dark.â
You nod. âOf course. Thank you for this.â
She gives you one last awkward nod, then takes a step back before turning and walking off. You watch her back until she disappears past the fence, then look at your gift again.Â
The sun has dipped low enough to soften the light, changing the angles and shadows and shifting the shape of it. The space between the hands seems smaller now. Or maybe youâre just standing closer.
a/n: HELLOOOO I'M BACK !!!!
lots of stuff going on irl but i will do my best to keep up with my updates. so sorry for how short this chapter is i couldn't even break 1k but idk i didn't want to stretch it out unnecessarily? anyway. next chapter will be ellie focused and after that big things are coming.
I'm still waiting for the next chapter of Stardew Ellie and Abby đđđ˘đ˘
I'M SO SORRYYYY đđđ
ik i said it would be soon but shit happenedddd i made a liar of myself BUT. i am writing next chapter at this very moment. this time when i say soon i really mean it!!!!!
i've been on that grind fr,,, i graduated w my AA degree which i'm super excited abt so now i'm figuring out next steps.
hope you are doing well anon, your wait will not last much longer!!!!!!
Heyyy, when ru gonna continue writing the next chapter of rooted? I lowk miss it đĽ˛đĽ˛đĽ˛
hellooo!!!!
ok so it's going to be SOON very soon rlly.
I have a v important test in a few days that i've been studying for and then i'll hopefully be graduating (đ¤Ż) and dealing w my college's weird system so i'd say like. a week? before i can get back to writing.
tysm for the ask ily, i miss it too i can't wait to get back to it.
pairing: new farmer reader x emo ellie OR artist abby
Quitting your corporate job and moving to your dead grandpa's run-down farm might have been a bad choice. Especially when you realize that Pelican Town is weird as hell. Though, there are some nice parts...
content & warnings: men & under 16 dni ; stardew valley au ; game knowledge not required ; ellie focused chapter ; really just fluff
wc: 1.2k words
masterlist
Youâre not really sure why you head to the mountains today. Youâre too tired to fish, and itâs too late to try the mines. But youâve got a backpack full of gifts that you packed up without having to think about it, and youâre not going home until youâve given them all away.Â
Linus is appreciative as always of the wild spice berries you give him. Marlon and Gil refuse to accept the blueberries youâd brought them, but thatâs alright.Â
You open up the door to Joelâs shop and step inside.Â
âLooking for Ellie?â He asks.Â
You pause for a moment. How the hellâŚ? âWell, yeah. But first, I brought you something.â
You pull his gift out of your backpack and set it on the counter with a dull thunk. Itâs a nice piece of mahoganyâ perfect gift for a woodworker.Â
He doesnât quite smile, but itâs close. His eyes definitely soften a good bit, and crinkle at the corners.Â
âNow thatâs a quality piece of wood,â he says, a little less gruff than usual. âThanks. Iâll put it to good use.â
You stand there expectantly for another moment, watching as he examines the mahogany.Â
âEllieâs out in the garage,â he says without looking up.Â
You smile and step away.Â
âThanks.â
Sure enough, when you head outside, you can hear some faint shuffling from the garage. And there she is.
Ellieâs sitting beside a motorcycle, grumbling quietly about something. The bike looks old, but well taken care of.Â
âDina?â She says when she hears your footsteps approaching on the gravel. âIâm kinda busyââ
You stop walking as she turns around.Â
âOh, sorry,â you say. âI can come back another time.â
She shakes her head, then quickly turns back to what she was working on. âNo, itâs fine. I donât mind if you stick around.â
Itâs not much, but itâs a little flattering when she says that. She doesnât mind if you stick around, but she was going to tell Dina that she was busy. So you walk over and take a seat on the stool by the work bench, just watching her work for a moment. Thereâs a little bit of grease smeared on her jaw, and a lot more on her hands. Her fingers keep slipping around on the wrench, and each time she mutters a little curse but doesnât bother to wipe her hands off.Â
She catches your gaze, and you blink a few times to clear your head. She looks way more embarrassed than you do, though, and she looks away quick.Â
âSo,â she says, clearing her throat. âWhyâd you come here?â
The first thing that pops into your mind is âbecause I wanted to see youâ, but then you remember the real reason youâre here.Â
âOh, right. I found something I thought youâd like.â
The wrench slips out of her hand and clatters onto the floor. Ellie startles, then curses under her breath and dives for it. Like if she picks it up fast enough, you wonât notice that she dropped it.Â
You hide your smile behind your backpack as you rummage around, then finally pull out a hunk of raw obsidian about the size of your hand. It would probably be worth a good amount if you decided to sell it, but youâre making enough money now that you can more than afford to give away some gifts.
Ellie straightens up, wrench in hand, then freezes when she sees what youâre holding.Â
âWhoa, holy shit.â She wipes her hands on a rag and reaches out to take it from you, eyes fixed on the dark surface of the stone. âYou found this in the mines?â
You nod and zip up your backpack. âYeah. It was in a big-ass geode.â
She turns it over in her hands, studying how it seems to swallow up the light.Â
âThis is exactly what Iâve been looking for,â she says. Itâs quiet, mostly to herself, but you hear.Â
âGot any plans for it?â You ask, leaning forward and resting your chin on your hand.Â
Ellie nods. âYeahâ I was thinking I could shape it into a dagger.â
She pauses, like she just heard her words echoed back to her.Â
âOr something,â she adds. âI donât know. A dagger would be pretty stupid.â
You shrug. Good god, why is she so cute when sheâs embarrassed?
âI think itâs pretty cool. Maybe not the most practical, but it would be cool.â
âActually, obsidian blades can get way sharper than any kind of steel. Like, a cutting edge of three nanometers. Pretty crazy. But since itâs a type of glass, itâs way too fragile for any practical use. It would be cool to have, though.â
You listen with a smile as she talks about the possibility of an obsidian blade.Â
Ellie carefully sets the piece of obsidian down on the work bench.Â
âThanks,â she says as she turns back to the bike. âHey, could you pass me the ten-millimeter?â
It takes a moment for you to figure out that sheâs asking you to pass her one of the tools. You scan the set, trying to guess which one is the right one. Youâve got no clue, so you select one at random and pass it over hopefully.Â
â...Thatâs a screwdriver,â she says, entirely unimpressed.Â
âThatâs not what you were asking for?â You say with a slightly embarrassed laugh. The look on her face is really making you wish youâd taken more of an interest in fixing things. Back in the city, it was easier to just pay someone else to do it while you were at work.Â
âNo. Ten-millimeter wrench,â she clarifies.
You nod, and turn back to the set of tools, trying to figure out which of the wrenches is the right one. âWell, how was I supposed to know that? Anyone could have made that mistake.â
Ellie rolls her eyes, but when you glance back at her for a second, you catch a little smile that sheâs trying to control. Youâre really starting to like making her smile.Â
âAnd,â you add, this time just to keep that smile on her face. âThat screwdriver kinda looked like a wrench.â
When you glance back again, you see her biting her lip to stifle a laugh.Â
âIt absolutely did not. Have you never seen a wrench before?â She asks.Â
âOh, shut up.â
You finally find the right wrenchâ the one that says â10 millimetersâ on the side of itâ and pass it over with your best impression of a lowly servant offering up a kingâs request.Â
âTook you long enough,â she mutters, taking the wrench and going back to work on the bike.Â
A laugh tumbles out of your chest. Not even a âthank youâ, but you donât mind. The little half-smile on her lips is enough thanks for you.Â
You donât go anywhere after that. She keeps asking you for tools, and you keep handing her the wrong ones before you give her what she needs. And when the sky gets dark, she doesnât ask you to leave.Â
a/n: hi so! i may be taking a little break from this series because i have a ton of stuff going on and i just need to step away from writing a series for now,,, i'm not abandoning it, the break should only last a few weeks. during that time i will probably be writing and posting some fun little oneshots though bc i don't want to completely stop writing.
pairing: ellie x fem reader - eternal sunshine of the spotless mind au
How happy is the blameless vestal's lot...
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each prayer accepted, and each wish resigned.
content & warnings: men & minors dni. heavy angst ; toxic relationship ; depressed ellie ; reader has undiagnosed / unspecified mental illness ; background dina / jesse in one scene ; brief suicidal ideation ; use of sleeping pills ; mentions of past self harm ; reader has a drinking problem ; panic attack ; joel is ellie's dad ; he's dead though
wc: 5.6k words
âŹËËË now playing...
[daffodil lament - the cranberries]
[forget her - jeff buckley]
[deadhouse - katatonia]
[reminiscence - skyforest]
[i'm going to forget you exist - lillian vandaam]
[such small hands - la dispute]
[love song - jack off jill]
[starting over - lsd and the search for god]
[punisher - phoebe bridgers]
[playlist link <3]
The day Ellie met you, the sky was grey.Â
She thought it was a terrible day to go to the beach, but Jesse and Dina had dragged her along anyway. Theyâd said there would be good food and that maybe sheâd have fun, but sheâd only let them take her because she thought maybe sheâd be able to make some friends.
Ellie had been sitting at one of the picnic benches. Away from the sand, away from the sound of laughter and conversations she wasnât a part of. She saw a head of green hair from afar and thought for a moment that anyone with green hair must be fun to talk to. Especially someone with green hair and an orange sweatshirt. Next time she looked, though, you werenât there.Â
There was sand in her sneakers, despite how carefully sheâd walked over the beach. Grit between sock and shoe, between her teeth, in her eyes.
âAnyone sitting here?â
Sheâd looked up, startled by the sudden voice. There you were. Green hair. Orange sweatshirt. You looked like youâd wandered into her life from an entirely different story, one that Ellie didnât have any place in.
âNo,â she responded, so quietly she barely heard her own voice.Â
You sat without any more reservations.Â
âMind if I-?â You didnât even finish your own question before reaching over to Ellieâs paper plate, snatching a chicken wing and laughing.Â
She cracked a smile. Literallyâ she felt the skin pulling at the corners, dry from the cold air and from staying in that perpetual frown.Â
âŹâââââââââââ§âââââââââââŹÂ Â
âIt was like she didnât even recognize me.â
Ellie paces back and forth in the kitchen of Jesse and Dinaâs apartment, nearly tearing her hair out. Itâs been a little over a year since she first met you, and exactly three days since you left her.Â
The first two days, Ellie didnât bother getting out of bed. The third day, she had the idea of finding you. So she did. She rolled out of bed, didnât shower or change her clothes before she was out the door. She couldnât look at the dent in the side of her car without thinking of that bad night, so she didnât look.Â
As soon as she walked through the doors of the bookstore, she spotted you. Your hair was blueâ last time sheâd seen you, it had been orange. The change didnât surprise her.Â
When she reached the counter, youâd smiled at her. Thatâs when she knew something was wrong.Â
Now sheâs pacing while Jesse sips a beer and Dina folds laundry.Â
âShe looked at me like I was just another customer,â she goes on. âShe asked if I needed help finding anything. What the fuck?â
âMaybe that means itâs over,â Jesse suggests. âSheâs moved on. I think you should just accept it. You know, move on. Meet someone else. Someone whoâs good for you.â
âI canât do that,â Ellie scoffs. âAnd besides, you have to admit that itâs weird. Itâs not like her to justâ to pretend she doesnât know me.â
Jesse sighs loudly, and Dina shoots him a warning glance.Â
âWhat?â Ellie asks, glancing between them.
âThe thing isââ Jesse starts, but Dina interrupts.Â
âDonât.â
Jesse rolls his eyes. âSheâs got a right to know.â
âThatâll make things worse.â
Ellie cuts in.Â
âCan one of you just tell me whatâs going on?â
They share a look. Jesse looks away first, grabbing a small envelope from a pile of mail on the coffee table and handing it over.Â
She takes it and tears it open with shaky hands. She can hear Dinaâs annoyed voice behind her, and Jesseâs insistence that she deserves to know.Â
Y/N L/N has had Ellie Williams erased from her memory. Please never mention their relationship to her again.
Thank you.
LACUNA INC.Â
Ellie reads the words. Reads them again. Flips the paper to find nothing on the back but an address, which she reads over until itâs memorized. Flips it again. Reads it again.
Erased from her memory. How? Why? Why?
Jesse and Dina are fully arguing now. Their voices are loud, but not as loud as the ringing in her ears. Not as loud as her heart pounding. She folds the paper as best she can and tucks it into her pocket, then stands up. Her legs threaten to buckle beneath her, but she forces herself to walk out the door.Â
You forgot her. On purpose. Sheâs heard of this memory erasing thing, someone at work made a joke about it one time. She never thought youâd do something like this.
Sheâs in her car before she can talk herself out of it, repeating that address in her thoughts. Clinging to it. What else was left to cling to?Â
She drives on autopilot, looking at signs without thinking about what they mean. She needs answers.Â
She loses count of how many wrong turns she takes on the way, too distracted to pay attention to where sheâs going. Each turn she doesnât think about is leading her to where she knows she could find you.Â
Eventually, she makes it to the address, after about double the time it should have taken. The building is unassuming, a plain white block in a mostly residential neighborhood.
The bell on the door jingles cheerfully when Ellie pushes through into the waiting room. A middle-aged man holds his head in his hands, and an old woman cries silently into a tissue.Â
She ignores both of them, pushing herself forward to the front desk.Â
âIs this real?â She asks quietly, pushing the folded paper across the counter. âIs it some kind of fucking joke? Itâs not funny. Itâs not funny at all.â
The woman behind the counter unfolds the paper quickly, glancing between it and Ellie.Â
âIâm sorry, miss. Could you tell me who showed you this?â
âThat doesnât matter. Is it real?â
âIâm afraid so. If youâd like, I couldâ wait, miss? Miss! You canât go back thereââ
Ellieâs already storming down the hallway, shoving open every door on the way. Weird medical equipment greets her in every one, until she reaches the end of the hall and shoves open the last door. This one is more of an office, with an older man sitting at a desk and looking through a file.Â
âIâm so sorry, sir,â the receptionist says from behind Ellie. âI tried to stop her.â
âThatâs alright,â he says with a sigh, setting the file down and taking off his glasses. He turns to Ellie.Â
âHow can I help you?â
âYouâre the guy in charge here?â She asks.Â
He nods. âYes, thatâs me. Doctor Jerry Anderson. And you are?â
âEllie. Ellie Williams. Youââ
She doesnât have to finish the statement. Doctor Anderson nods in recognition.Â
âI see. I assume youâre here about your ex-girlfriend?â
Ex-girlfriend. Sheâs been your ex-girlfriend before. Times when you said you were done, but one of you would always come back to the other. But thereâs nothing to come back to anymore.
â...Why?â She asks weakly. She doesnât have to elaborate.Â
âIt would seem that Miss L/N was not happy in your relationship,â the doctor sighs.Â
âNot happy,â Ellie repeats. âSheâs never happy. Neither am I. Thatâs why we work together. We have rough patches sometimes, thatâs all it was. You let her do something permanent over a fucking rough patch.â
âSheâs a grown woman,â the doctor says calmly. He sounds like a parent trying to lecture a child. âShe can make her own decisions, and sheâs made one that you need to respect, or at least accept.â
Ellie takes a deep breath. It feels like her ribs are cracking, squeezing around her lungs. Itâs a familiar feeling, but itâs never been like this. Usually she knows itâll be okay, that youâll be back. Thatâs not the case anymore. You wonât be back. You donât know her anymore. You donât love her anymore.Â
She bites her tongue hard enough to make it bleed, then turns and walks out. She doesnât stop moving until sheâs in her car, where she just takes a second to be still.Â
The first sob is choked, the kind that tears itself out of oneâs throat and sinks into the air like something physical. Like arms wrapping around her, not to comfort but to constrict. Her forehead presses against the top of the steering wheel, arms wrapping around it like holding on to something might help this all seem less like the end of everything.Â
On the drive home, she can barely see through the tears. Part of her hopes sheâll crash, wrap her car around a tree before she can get to the apartment and face the fact that youâre not there.Â
She tries not to think about the disappointment that eats at her when she gets home safely.Â
âŹâââââââââââ§âââââââââââŹÂ Â
Two days after finding out that you forgot her. Five since you left.Â
Ellie hasnât gotten out of bed more than a few times to go to the bathroom. She hasnât gone to work all week. Thereâs a few voicemails left in her phone, and one of them is probably her boss telling her to not bother coming back. She doesnât care.Â
A half-empty bottle of tequila sits on the nightstand on your side of the bed. She can see the print of your lipstick on it, and sheâs been staring at that for at least an hour now, trying to imagine that youâre still here with her.Â
Youâre not. She feels the absence of you as strongly as she would feel the presence of anyone else. Because youâre not completely absent. There are traces of you everywhere she looks, the ghost of you haunting her every moment, awake or dreaming.Â
The smell of your conditioner still lingers on your pillow. She canât count how many times these past two days sheâs buried her face in it, inhaling the smell and screaming into it so hard that her throat gets sore and she has to resort to quiet sobs.Â
The smell of you doesnât fade like sheâd expect it to. It lingers on the sheets, in the air, in the back of her throat with every gasped breath.Â
She doesnât know what exactly gets her up, but she rolls out of bed and slips on her shoes. She barely remembers to grab her wallet and keys before heading out the door.Â
This time, she remembers the route. She doesnât detour. She doesnât try to find you again.Â
By the time she reaches that white block of a building, sheâs just beginning to realize what sheâs doing. It doesnât stop her, though. She walks into the sterile waiting room, once again ignoring the people sitting there. Thereâs no point in looking anymore.Â
She walks up to the front desk and slams both hands down on it, trying to hold back the growing feeling of sickness in her stomach.Â
âDo it,â she says desperately. The words feel like they have thorns. âDo it to me. Erase her, I canât do this.â
The receptionist blinks.Â
âMiss, we canât do walk-ins,â she says gently. âYou have to call ahead and make an appointment. Valentineâs is tomorrow, this is our busiest time.â
âNo, youâ you donât understand.â Ellie runs a hand through her messy hair. âI canât do this. You need to make me forget.â
âIâm sorry, butââ
Another voice cuts in, one she recognizes as the doctor.
âLet her in.â
Ellie looks up with exhausted eyes. Dr. Anderson gives her a nod of recognition, then waves her towards the back.Â
Her legs carry her forward into his office, where she drops down into a chair and buries her face in her hands.Â
âI shouldnât be doing this.â
He ignores her.Â
âThe first step in the process is to gather every physical memory,â he starts. âIâll need you to go to your residence and find every object that reminds you of the one you wish to forget. Can you do that?â
Everything that reminds her of you? Sheâd have to gut the place.
âWhat if everything reminds me of her?â She whispers.Â
âThat happens more often than you think. Just find everything that has a concrete memory attached to it.â
She closes her eyes and leans back in the chair. Thereâs still a lotâ her life was basically empty before you crashed into it. And if it means that she wonât have to feel like this anymore, sheâll do it.Â
She nods without saying anything.
âŹâââââââââââ§âââââââââââŹÂ Â
Half an hour later, sheâs back in her apartment, holding a black trash bag and throwing in everything with a memory of you attached. The clothes youâd left behind. The necklace sheâd bought you, planning to give it to you on Valentineâs Day. The snowglobe sheâd bought you at the gift shop in Montauk.Â
By the time sheâs done, three of those bags are filled near bursting with memories. Her apartment barely smells like you anymore. Her hands are shaking when she drives back to the Lacuna clinic.Â
This time, they make her wait. So she sits in that sad, sterile waiting room with three bags full of things that youâd left behind. She doesnât look at the others sitting with her, just like sheâs avoided looking at mirrors for as long as she can remember.Â
It feels like hours. She memorizes the pattern of the tiles on the floor, every crack in the ceiling. There are 28 roses in the painting on the wall. The air vent is blowing on a plant with 41 leaves. The first time she counted, she thought it was 39. But no, 42. Sheâs counted five times since to be sure.Â
âEllie Williams?â The receptionist calls out.Â
For a second, she doesnât recognize her name. Then sheâs up, dragging the bags behind her through the hallway.Â
She doesnât cry on the drive home. Maybe there are no more tears left. Maybe she already spilled them all, sitting in that little examination room. Theyâd gone through the bags, holding up every object and having her react to it. Not describe. They didnât let her speak. Didnât let her talk about the memories, just had her run through them in her mind as they hooked her up to all kinds of machines she didnât understand. Halfway through, she was sobbing harder than she ever had in her life.Â
By the end, she couldnât feel anything at all.Â
When she gets home, itâs nearing eight pm. She watches something stupid on the tv for a little while, trying to pay attention. She doesnât hear a single word.Â
When the alarm goes off, she shuts the tv down and grabs the pill bottle theyâd sent her home with. Taps the two little blue pills into her palm and downs them with a sip of stale water. They go down easy, like the antidepressants she used to take.Â
They donât kick in immediately. Sheâs lying awake in bed for a while before she feels the pills starting to work, forcing her body to relax before her mind starts to fade.Â
The last thing she thinks is that maybe sheâs making a mistake. And then it goes dark.Â
The second she finds herself back in Dr. Andersonâs office, she knows itâs a dream. A dream, or a memory. Maybe something in between.Â
She watches herself sitting across the desk from him. The angle is strange, like sheâs above herself looking down at the room. Like a child looking into a dollhouse.Â
The memory version of her is talking about you. She doesnât know how she knows that, because what youâre saying isnât making any sense. She keeps repeating words, then looping back to the start of a jumbled sentence, then jumping to another. Is she even saying real words? Ellie canât tell.Â
Dr. Anderson looks up, directly at her. Not memory version, but the one whoâs watching.Â
âYouâre not supposed to be here,â he says. Itâs not his voice. Itâs her fatherâs voice, one she hasnât heard since she was seventeen.Â
The lamp in the corner is getting brighter. Itâs too bright, the light is washing out everything else. Then it dims and shifts, and she falls backward into a chair and then theyâre taping cold wires to her forehead and shoving the snowglobe into her hands. Itâs heavier than it should be, she can barely hold it up.
âWe got that in Montauk,â she tries to say. Nothing comes out. She tries again, still nothing. She tries to say your name, and that works.Â
It comes out soft and sad.Â
Sheâs not in the clinic anymore. Sheâs back home, sitting in the ratty old armchair in the corner. No more cold wires on her forehead, just a lingering headache as the front door slams shut.Â
Footsteps. She recognizes them, heavy and mismatched. Itâs you, but youâre drunk. Just like you were last time she saw you.Â
This is the last time she saw you. Sheâs back there, on that bad night when youâd collapsed onto the bed smelling like a dive bar.
âEllieeeee,â you whine. âCome here. I want to cuddle.â
âYouâre drunk,â she says.Â
You give her a look, that look that always makes her stomach drop. It always means the same thingâ youâll be leaving that night. For a moment, Ellie forgets that this is when you left for the last time.Â
âIâm not drunk,â you protest.Â
âYou are,â Ellie insists. She tries to stay quiet then, she really does. She thinks she does, until she hears her own voice continuing. âI see you drunk more than I see you sober.â
No⌠no, no no noâŚ
You push yourself off the bed, stumbling in your heels. âYouâre lucky you see me at all,â you scoff.Â
âLucky me,â she mutters. âI have an alcoholic girlfriend.â
âFuck you, Ellie.â
She closes her eyes. She canât watch you walk away, she never can. Instead of telling you to stay, she closes her eyes.Â
The door slams shut behind you.Â
When she opens her eyes, itâs a few days before that bad night. Sheâs still in the armchair, watching you stand on the coffee table, drunk and loudly singing the wrong lyrics to a song you used to know by heart. She sees herself lying down on the couch, pretending to be asleep.
It all goes black, like someone shut out all the lights. She canât remember where she just was, and thatâs when she realizes it. Sheâs forgetting. Theyâre erasing it.Â
Good. Good? She doesnât know anymore.Â
She sees herself kneeling on the floor, cleaning up broken glass. Picking up one of the bigger shards and seeing the traces of blood on the edge, then putting it in the trash bag before she can think too much about it.Â
Ellie takes a step closer, trying to see, but she steps into the trash bag and falls in. Then sheâs falling, feeling the wind passing by in the darkness.Â
She falls onto her knees outside the bathroom door, listening to the sound of you crying and not even trying to hide it.Â
She lets out a broken sob and tries to slam her head against the door, but it never hits. She falls forward. Sheâs in the kitchen now, in that strange angle like sheâs looking into a dollhouse.Â
The version of her in the memory raises her voice, and you flinch. She tries to reach out, and you step away.Â
âI didnât mean it like that,â she hears herself say. âPlease, baby, I didnât mean it like that. Iâm not mad at you. I didnât mean it like that.â
You say itâs fine and pour yourself another drink.Â
Ellie tries to run. She canât do this, she canât watch this again. But she trips on your body lying on the floor, too drunk to stand up.Â
She goes down on top of you, and suddenly the two of you are in her bed. She kisses you, and you start to cry.Â
Ellie rolls away, trying to escape. She falls off the bed into the car. The radio is too loud, playing a song she doesnât recognize. Youâre not speaking.Â
Her hands are on the steering wheel. They feel like theyâre glued to it. She tries to steer off the road, but she canât. All she can see ahead of her is darkness.Â
She closes her eyes and waits for the car to drive off the edge of the road. She never feels herself fall.
The steering wheel is gone. In its place is a grocery cart sheâs pushing under fluorescent lights that make you look as sick as she knows you are. You split up, and when you meet her by the checkout, all youâve gotten is vodka. All Ellieâs gotten is a box of the chocolate croissants you like, the ones she knows will go stale on the kitchen counter.
âI love you,â Ellie tries to say. Her phone chimesâ one message from you. âI miss you.â Youâre one room away, but too drunk to realize that sheâs right there.
Sheâs under the sheets with you, laughing like nothingâs wrong. Sheâs tickling you, you grab her wrists to stop her. You feel the scars there and the laughter stops.Â
â...Are we okay?â You whisper.Â
Ellie takes a moment too long to respond. She feels you slipping away from herâ literally. Itâs like the bed is tilting, and youâre falling away from her.Â
Then sheâs falling too, falling into a crowd of people she doesnât know. But youâre there with her, so itâs okay. For a little while, everything is okay. Your arms are wrapped over her shoulders, face pressed against her neck.Â
Then you order another drink. And then everyone is looking at her, laughing at her. She feels the panic rising, and next thing she knows sheâs sitting on the bathroom floor, curled up with her head in her hands as you try to help. Youâre trying to help her through her breathing exercises, but youâre too drunk to remember how they go.Â
She feels the memories shifting around her, but she stays like that. Curled up, head in her hands, trying to control her breathing as her lungs resist. She hears you crying.Â
âI donât want to be like this,â you sob.
Then youâre laughing, dancing around the apartment without music. Youâre not drunk this time, just happy. Ellieâs happy too. At least, the version of her that exists in this memory is. The version thatâs watching is wondering if this was the last time she was ever really happy.Â
You take her by the hands and drag her along into the dance. Youâre laughing. Sheâs laughing. Youâre wearing her clothes, but you still smell like you.Â
âI donât want to forget you,â Ellie whispers.Â
Itâs like a hook in her chest pulls her back, away from you and into another scene. Youâre arguing over a board game. For a second, her stomach drops. Then you start to laugh, leaning over the table to pull her into a kiss.Â
âPlease donât leave me,â you say. You say it like youâre joking, but she knows youâre not.Â
âI wonât,â she promises. âI wonât ever leave. Iââ
She tries to hug you, but youâre gone. Gone again, and she canât find you. Sheâs running through the apartment, searching everywhere for you until she finds you lying on the floor.Â
âNo,â she whispers, rushing over and dropping to her knees beside you. You open your eyes and laugh.Â
âIâm fine,â you say, giggling. Ellie tries to laugh with you, but she still feels sick.Â
Youâre laughing, and then youâre crying. Youâre crying so hard, sobbing into her chest and digging your nails into the skin of your arms.Â
âHey, hey, donât do that,â Ellie whispers, trying to pry your fingers off your skin and put them on her own arms. âDonât hurt yourself. Do it to me, I donât mind. Itâs okay.â
âI donât know why Iâm like this.â
She holds you tighter.Â
âI love you.â
It shifts again. Sunday morning, you lying in bed with her, half asleep. Youâre so warm next to her, so soft. She wants to stay there with you forever.Â
The walls start to melt.Â
âWait,â she says. The walls melt faster. âWait, stop.â Louder this time.Â
âStop,â she says again. âStop! I donât want this!â
You open your eyes next to her. âItâs okay,â you whisper.Â
âNo, itâs not okay. Iâm losing you. Iâm forgetting you. I donât want this anymore. Can you hear me? I donât want this anymore!â
âLetâs run,â you say. Like itâs that simple.Â
But sheâd do anything to keep you. So she grabs your hand and jolts up, pulling you with her out of bed. She ends up in the bathroom, brushing her teeth next to you and stealing glances at you in the mirror.Â
No, noâ itâs another memory. She canât let you disappear again. She grabs your hand and pulls you away, out of the bathroom, only to fall right off the edge of the floor, into darkness.Â
Then into the bathroom of a dive bar, holding your hair back as you throw up. This was the first time sheâd ever seen you this drunk. She felt important when you let her help.Â
âNo, noâ we have to go. We have to go somewhere else.â
You groan, reluctantly letting her pull you up and out of the bathroom. Then itâs the middle of a house party full of people she doesnât know. She remembers that night. Youâd begged her to come with you when sheâd wanted to stay home, and then youâd held her hand the entire time because you knew how she got around people she didnât know.Â
âTheyâre going to keep erasing these,â you say plainly. âI mean, we can keep running, but thatâs just making it go faster.â
âNo, there has to be something,â Ellie says, wrapping her arms around you as the ground starts to crumble. âI donât want to lose any more. What if we hide?â
â...Thatâs actually a good idea,â you say, pulling back slightly. âWhat if you hid me somewhere Iâm not supposed to be?â
She thinks. Somewhere youâre not supposed to be. If she puts you in a memory where you werenât there, maybe she can hide you. Maybe they wonât be able to erase all of you.Â
The house she grew up in is small, but it still feels like home.Â
Sheâs fourteen years old again, sitting on the couch and holding the guitar her dad gave her for her birthday. Heâs teaching her the chords, guiding her hands.Â
But youâre sitting next to her now. And sheâs not playing the first song she learned, sheâs playing your favorite song.Â
âYour dad seems nice,â you say quietly.Â
Ellie nods, strumming gently. âI wish you could have met him.â
When she looks up next, heâs gone.Â
âDad?â she says in her fourteen-year-old voice. âDad, whereâd you go?â
The walls go next. There one second, gone the next.Â
âShit, they already found us?â You say, jumping off the couch as it disappears.Â
Ellie jumps up after you, dropping the guitar to grab your hand and pull you away. Another one. Something they wonât be able to find so easily, something darker. Something she doesnât even want to remember.Â
The hospital lights are too bright, the smell of sickness and cleaner heavy in the stale air.Â
You stand in the waiting room, looking around. Ellieâs seventeen, sitting alone on one of the chairs.Â
âEllie? Where are we?â You ask hesitantly.Â
âMy dad just died,â she whispers.Â
Youâre quiet as you sit down next to her.Â
âI shouldnât be here.â
Ellie closes her eyes. âThatâs the point.â
The hum of machines wonât let the silence rest. Distant beeping, off-rhythm, disrupts every chance at peace. The magazines on the table to the side are too cheerful, advertising recipes for quick weight loss and celebrity drama from years ago.Â
âYou never talked about your dad,â you say next to her.Â
She doesnât know why. Her dad had been the only stable person in her life. She should have told you about him. She should have talked about him more, not tried to forget him.Â
The lights flicker.Â
âThey found us,â she whispers, grabbing your hand and standing up. âWe need to go somewhere worse. The worst memory I have.â
âEllie, no,â you protest. âTheyâre going to find us there too, itâll just make it worseââ
Itâs too late. Not that she would have listened to your warning anyway. Sheâll do anything to hide you away from them, even if she knows it wonât work.Â
Ellieâs room is dark. She sits on the floor, still in the black suit sheâd worn to the funeral.Â
âI donât like this, Ellie,â you whisper. âI shouldnât be here. You shouldnât be back here.â
She doesnât respond. She stands up and takes three steady steps to the door. When she opens it, thereâs just darkness where the hallway should be. She steps in anyway.Â
She only realizes youâve stepped into the darkness too when you rest your head on her shoulder.Â
âEllie,â you say quietly. âYou donât remember this part, do you?â
She shakes her head, brows furrowed as she reaches out. Thereâs nothing out there in the dark.Â
âI donât remember,â she whispers. âI donât remember what I did.â
She takes another step forward, off the edge of a floor she canât see. She holds on to you as she falls.Â
You land next to her in her bed, the apartment dark around you.Â
âThis was the first time you stayed the night,â she whispers, brushing a strand of your blue hair back behind your ear. âI didnât sleep all night because I was so scared youâd leave before I woke up.â
âI didnât sleep either,â you whisper back.Â
Ellie smiles. âI know.â
She leans in to kiss you, knowing it might be the last time. She canât run with you. She canât hide you.Â
It wonât be long before youâre gone completely.Â
When she opens her eyes, she sees the stars above her. Youâre next to her, lying down on the ice in Montauk.Â
âI think I love you,â she whispers. Itâs the day after she met you. She was already head over heels.Â
You giggle. âYou donât know me.â
âI want to,â she says. âI want to know everything about you, so I can love everything about you.â
âYouâre crazy.â
âIâm in love.â
âRemember me.â
The ice cracks. She falls through into cold darkness, closing her eyes. She only opens them when her feet land barefoot on cold sand.Â
The night of the day she met you. Walking behind you on the beach, following you while knowing that you donât even know where youâre going. Sheâs laughing harder than she ever had. Her face is already sore from smiling more in the first few hours of knowing you than she had in years.
âThis is a good spot.â
You drop down onto a towel that someone else left behind. She brushes some of the sand off before sitting down next to you.Â
âI think youâre a little crazy,â she laughs.Â
âIâm the fun kind of crazy,â you say with a smile.Â
âI donât want this to end.â
Itâs the end. She knows it is. The tide is rising, each wave getting closer to where sheâs sitting with you.Â
You lean in close, resting your head on her shoulder.Â
She wakes up with a headache. Her apartment seems oddly empty, but she canât remember it being any other way.Â
She sighs as she gets out of bed. Work. She has to get to work.Â
Itâs not long before sheâs sitting in the train station, watching the screen and waiting for her train to arrive.Â
Then her brows furrow. She needs toâ she doesnât know what she needs to do. But before she can stop herself, sheâs jumping up and running. She doesnât know where sheâs going until she jumps past the doors of a train about to leave. A train to Montauk, of all places. Why the hell is she going to Montauk?
She sighs heavily. Well, sheâs here. Going to Montauk. Probably going to be fired for missing work. But at least sheâll be at the beach. Not that she even likes the beach, despite the weird fond feeling in her chest when she thinks of it.Â
She sits down in an empty seat near the back of the train. The girl in front of her has blue hair. Blue hair and an orange sweatshirt. Colorful. Probably fun to talk to. At least, fun for someone who actually knew how to talk to strangers.Â
You turn around, and she quickly looks away, out the window. You definitely caught her staring.Â
When you stand up, she winces. Youâre probably going to go sit somewhere else, away from the staring creep.Â
Then you drop down into the seat next to her.Â
âIs this seat taken?â You ask.Â
Ellie shakes her head quickly.Â
âNo, no. Well, I guess it is now. By you, of course. Obviously.â
You smile and lean a little closer.Â
âWhatâs your name?â
âEllie,â she says. âEllie Williams.Â
âNice to meet you, Ellie.â
a/n: been working on this one for a while, like over a month lol. eternal sunshine has gotta be one of my favorite movies of all time so yk i had to make it lesbian.
a lot of the scenes here esp in the beginning are yoinked straight from the movie bc i did want to keep it close but um yeah i hope ygs appreciate this bc it dealt psychic damage to me every time i opened the doc. anyway um hope you have a good day after reading this, take care of yourselves <3
pairing: loser metalhead abby x popular fem reader
Abby has no idea how she got lucky enough to be dating you. Inviting you to her band's first gig may be the worst mistake she's ever made. You stay anyway.
can be read as a continuation of scream bloody gore or as a separate story
content & warnings: men & under 16 dni. no smut. swearing ; modern college setting ; abby is very insecure ; established relationship ; newish relationship ; mild angst i guess but it's just bc abby is overreacting to nothing ; very fem reader ; fluff and comfort at the end ; reader wears a dress and bakes cookies ; no use of y/n
wc: 2.8k words
Abby messed up. Big time.
Sheâs been dating you for a few months nowâ three months and six days, actually. She still doesnât know how she got this lucky, and sometimes she feels like sheâs holding her breath and waiting for you to realize that sheâs too much of a loser for you. But you always seem to know when sheâs feeling like that, and youâre quick to reassure her that yes, you do actually like her.Â
But this time, she might have really messed things up.Â
When she first started dating you, she made herself a promise: to never, ever let you hear her band play. Never. Because that would be the end of things, without a doubt.Â
You know sheâs in a band. But you donât know how bad they suck.Â
And then one day sheâd mentioned having practice later, and youâd started asking about it so sweetly and she really didnât have any choice but to tell you that they had a gig on Friday. Then you, being the supportive girlfriend that you are, had said youâd go to watch. Abby never had a choice.
Well, she did have a choice. She could have just not said anything, preserved the best thing in her life. But no. She had to open her mouth. And now itâs Thursday night, and sheâs losing it.Â
âItâs over,â she groans, burying her face in her hands as Manny awkwardly pats her shoulder. âItâs so fucking overâ can you turn the music off for five minutes, dude?â
Manny quickly shuts off the bluetooth speaker, cutting off the song mid-scream. The dorm still isnât quiet, though. Thereâs still the noise of a girl moaning nextdoor, seeping in through the thin walls.Â
âItâs gonna be okay,â he says. He does not sound like he believes it, even a little bit. âWeâll do our best.â
âOur best is absolute dogshit,â she says, flopping down onto the bed. âAt this point, just kill me. Mercy kill.â
âOr you could pretend youâre sick,â he suggests.Â
âDude. I am completely incapable of lying to her. One time, she asked me if Iâd dated anyone else before her, and I said yes, and I lasted all of two minutes before I broke down and told her the truth. Iâm so fucked, man.â
Abby lifts her face off the pillow to glare at him. âIs that your idea of helping?â
âNah. Just telling you the truth. Enjoy it while it lasts, youâre getting dumped tomorrow.â
âI hate you. I hate you so much. I canât even describe how much I want you to trip and bust your head open.â
He pats her shoulder once more, then stands up, leaving her to deal with her agony alone. Sheâs probably better off without his advice, though. The neighborâs moans reach a crescendo as Abby reaches for her phone. Maybe Manny was right about one thing (rare). She should enjoy it while it lasts.
She takes a moment to admire your contact photo, a picture of you smiling as Abby kisses your cheek.Â
It takes her way too long to draft up a message that just reads âcan you call?â. But less than a minute later she sees the little indication that you read the message, and her heart does a backflip when her phone starts buzzing.Â
Itâs a video callâ she takes a moment to check her hair, smoothing it back a little before she answers. And there you are, looking as perfect as ever in an apron with a bit of flour on your cheek.Â
âHey, Abby,â you say happily. âWhatâs up?â
Abby smiles, mood instantly lifted by the sight of you and the sound of your voice.Â
âJust wanted to see you,â she says. Itâs a big enough part of the truth that it doesnât feel like lying. âBaking something good?â
You tilt the camera to show her a bowl of dough that youâre currently mixing.Â
âCookies,â you say. âDouble chocolate.â
Abby groans. Your cookies are amazing. The first time she tried something youâd baked, sheâd nearly passed out. Youâre so perfect, it hurts.Â
âI was going to bring them to you and your band for tomorrow,â you continue. Abbyâs stomach drops at the reminder. Right. Tomorrow. The gig. The end of everything good. âBut now Iâm not sure. I mean, cookies arenât very metal. Iâd probably get laughed at.â
Her brows furrow. She doesnât know who made you think that, but she doesnât like it.Â
âHell no,â she says quickly. âBring the cookies. Please. I mean, you donât have to if you donât want to, but I love your cookies. And everyone else will too. If anyone even thinks about laughing at you, Iâll break their legs.â
You laugh and turn the camera back to your face.Â
âOkay, fine, Iâll bring the cookies.â
âGood.â At least sheâll get to have one last taste of your baking before you realize sheâs a loser and leave her in the dust.Â
You set the phone down on the counter so you can do something with the dough, leaving Abby watching the shadows from the spinning ceiling fan.Â
âSo,â you say after a moment of comfortable silence. âHow was your day?â
She tells you about her day then. Not all of it, of courseâ she doesnât mention the nauseating anxiety thatâs been consuming her for the past few days, but she does tell you about her classes and her professorâs latest bout of insanity. She tells you about the bird that tried to steal her sandwich, and you tell her about the raccoon you spotted near a dumpster last night. And when thereâs nothing left to talk about, she falls asleep to the sound of you humming a tune she doesnât recognize.Â
ââââââââââââ
The next day is the one sheâs been dreading.
Backstage at the venue is a strong contender for Abbyâs least favorite place sheâs ever been. She canât stop pacing, walking back and forth on the crusty floor while the rest of the band relaxes on the half-destroyed couch. There seems to be a layer of cigarette ash and dried beer covering every surface, from the floor to the walls to the ceiling hanging low overhead.Â
She thought she was at least a little prepared for this. Sheâs nowhere near it.Â
When she woke up earlier, her phone was dead. Meaning her alarm never went off, and sheâd slept in until noon. Worse, she no longer had your voice in her ear to ease the sick feeling of knowing the end was near.Â
She hopes you donât show. She hopes you stay home, so sheâll have more time before you inevitably dump her. But thereâs a voice in her head thatâs just screaming your name over and over, because youâre the only one whoâs ever able to ease her constant doubts.
A pair of footsteps other than her own approach, crunching faintly over the debris on the floor. Abby freezes, turning around slowly to see you standing there holding a brown paper bag. You look so pretty in that dress youâre wearing, even in the shitty lighting. But she knows you enough to notice that youâre uncomfortable. Itâs in the stiffness of your shoulders, the way your smile is just a little flat. Nothing anyone else would notice, but with the amount of time Abby spends looking at you? Itâs obvious.Â
âHey,â she sighs. All her doubts are forgotten for a moment, too focused on you to think about her own problems.Â
You walk over to her, setting the paper bag on the coffee table and giving her a one-armed hug. Abby doesnât let that slideâ she wraps both arms around your waist and pulls you in close, resting her cheek on the top of your head. She can smell your strawberry shampoo and the faint perfume you wear, and itâs all worth it. Even if you do leave her tonight, at least she got to love you for a while.Â
âIâm glad youâre here,â she murmurs against your hair. Quiet enough that the band wonât hear, though theyâre very obviously trying to eavesdrop.Â
She can feel your muscles start to relax as she holds on to you. The hug is long enough that when you finally pull away, your brows are slightly furrowed with confusion.Â
âIs everything alright?â You ask quietly.Â
No. Abby wants to tell you that no, nothing is alright. Telling you would probably make it better. But sheâs too scared to tell you despite how much she wants to, so she just nods.Â
âYeah. Itâs fine, everythingâs fine. Justâ are you sure you want to be here?â
As soon as she sees that discomfort come back, she wants to kick herself in the teeth.Â
âWaitââ she says quickly, hands resting on your shoulders. âI didnât mean it like that. I want you here. Iâm just scared.â
You relax again, leaning into her touch.Â
âScared of what?â
âIâm scared that youâll realizeââ
Sheâs interrupted by one of the venue staff knocking on the open door.Â
âWolves? You guys are up. Good luck out there, weird crowd tonight.â
The rest of the band gets up from the couch, and Abby pulls you into one last hug thatâs near tight enough to crush you.Â
âIâll be watching,â you murmur. âYouâre going to do great.â
You really believe it. She leans in to kiss you softly, lips sliding against yours. Sheâs trying to memorize itâ the softness of your lips, the way your lipgloss tastes like candy, the way your nose bumps against hers and the sound of your breath.Â
She finally pulls away when Manny coughs pointedly. Usually sheâd be embarrassed, but sheâs too busy studying your face to care who saw.Â
âThank you,â she whispers. Then she forces herself to step away, grabbing her guitar and heading out onto the stage.Â
Before the first note rings out, she knows without a doubt that the show will be nothing less than a disaster.Â
Her guitar strap feels too loose. Then too tight after she adjusts it. But the crowd is watching with hostile eyes, so she leaves it like that. Her pick falls from between her fingers, skittering off the edge of the stage, and nobody picks it up. She pulls her backup from her pocket with shaky fingers, then strums a tentative chord to test the sound.Â
The tests actually go alright. The mic smells like sour beer and old spit, and she tries not to gag.Â
âCheck, check,â she murmurs. Thank god, the sound guy did his job.
Sheâs dreading the count-in, each number down feeling like one step towards the edge of a cliff. Manny comes in on the drums half a beat too early, and she has to rush in to keep up with the intro. Some guy near the front of the crowd is talking about how his dog threw up on his shoes, loud enough that itâs clearly audible over the music. She hits a wrong chord during the first verse. She doubts anyone noticed, but it happened.Â
The second song goes even worse. Melâs going way too fast on the bass. One of Mannyâs drumsticks snaps in half, and he has to scramble to grab a new one. Abbyâs so focused on trying to keep the rhythm on her guitar that she forgets a lyric, just repeating the previous one and hoping the crowd thinks it's on purpose.Â
Someone laughs. Itâs a loud, booming cackle. The crowd isnât reacting to anything, just shifting uncomfortably. She doesnât care about the crowd, not really. She only cares that youâre backstage watching this mess. Youâre probably laughing. Actually, no. Youâre too nice to laugh, which just makes it worse.
âGet off the stage!â Someone shouts during a lull in the song. A few others join in.Â
Sheâs been here in her nightmares before. Doing her best and being booed off the stage. She feels lightheaded. Her vision is just a tunnel, focused on the mic in front of her with everything else blurred out around the edges.Â
She steps away from the mic, pulling the guitar strap off her shoulders and setting the instrument down on a stand at the edge of the stage. Then sheâs walking off stage, eyes stinging and legs shaking.Â
And there you are, standing just off the stage, watching her. She canât read your face, and that terrifies her.Â
She walks right past you. She canât stop to look at you for another second, too scared to face the disappointment in your eyes that sheâs dreading.Â
Abby doesnât stop walking until she gets outside, collapsing down onto the steps before the door to the back alley. It smells like a dumpster out here, but she doesnât care. Itâs a lot better than the stale air inside the venue.Â
She presses the heel of her palm into her closed eyes, trying to block out the images of your disappointed face that keep showing up.Â
She never should have done this. Even if you hadnât been there, it still would have been a disaster. She canât remember why she ever thought it was a good idea.Â
The door creaks open behind her, and she jolts up. Youâre there, holding the now slightly crumpled brown paper bag. Still unreadable.Â
You sit down on the edge of the steps, then pat the spot next to you. Abby bites back the apologies on her tongue and sits down next to you.Â
âI saved you a cookie,â you say calmly, passing over the bag. âThe venue crew kinda demolished the rest, but I told them youâd beat someone up if you didnât get any.â
She lets out a choked half-laugh, half-sob when you set the bag down in her lap. Her stomach is churning too much for her to even consider eating it right now.Â
âI know it sucked,â she whispers. âYou donât have to pretend. I knewâ I knew you wouldnât want to stay with me after you saw that. I donât know why I still did it.â
âWho says I donât want to stay?â
She looks over at you, and she doesnât see pity. She doesnât see disappointment either, or disgust.Â
âI just thoughtââ
âYou thought wrong,â you interrupt. âYeah, that was pretty bad. But I didnât come here for the show, I came here for you.â
Abby looks away and squeezes her eyes shut. The hope is starting to warm her chest, but she canât let herself fall into it completely. Sheâs still waiting for the catch.
âAbby,â you say gently. Your head leans against her shoulder, and she leans into your touch. âIf anything, seeing you up there just reinforced why I love you so much.â
She freezes.Â
â...What? How, whyâ?â
You nudge her lightly with your shoulder, and she shuts up immediately.Â
âBecause,â you continue after a quiet moment. âYou went up there knowing what you could lose, and you still did it. You played songs that you wrote from nothing. Even if it didnât go as well as it could have, you still did it. That kind of bravery? I love it. I love you.â
Abby lets out a slow breath. At first, she doesnât want to believe you. But she knows you wouldnât lie about this. So she turns towards you and pulls you in, wrapping her arms tight around you.Â
âI love you too,â she whispers into your hair. âI was so scared of losing you.â
You laugh and return the hug, careful not to crush the paper bag any more. âIt would take a lot more than a bad show to get rid of me.âÂ
She kisses the top of your head, then brings her hands up to cradle your face and starts kissing you all over. You groan and weakly protest, but you donât pull away even a little bit. You turn your face at the same time she tries to kiss your cheek, catching her lips.Â
The kiss is soft and sweet, a slow glide that youâre both smiling into.Â
Youâre the one who eventually pulls away to catch a breath. Abby whines and leans closer to follow you, resting her forehead against yours. She canât stand to not be touching you now that she knows youâre staying.Â
The crowd inside is still shouting for the next band. But out here, she canât hear them. Out here, the world is quiet except for your soft laugh and your breath.
And Abby finally lets herself relax.
a/n: loser metalhead abby won the poll and it wasn't even close. which is perfect bc she's been marinating in my brain.
next chapter of rooted coming up soon, and after that i'm not sure but possibly something smuttyđno valentine's special from me because i have beef with valentine's day.
This is stupid but i wanna start a tag thing and see how far it goes
everyone share a fun fact about yourself for however many letters there are in your url
I can start:
I first learned how to use a sword when I was 10
I once did a shot of soy sauce as a dare
My first time getting drunk to the point where I threw up was directly after a school exam, we got drunk in the woods by our school
I can't smoke due to my asthma, I tried once and almost passed out
I'm very allergic to bubblegum, idk what in it but it makes my throat swell like crazy
When my mom was pregnant with me, my dad played rock for at least an hour each day cause he was determined to make me like rock and roll (it worked)
I have grape juice in my fridge at all times, and it's been this way since I was a kid
My favourite Monster Energy is Strawberry Dreams, but I'm tempted to try the passionfruit one so that might change
I'm American but I type with British English sometimes cause the teacher who taught me spelling in kindergarten was British
One time in high school, I got a papercut during bio and a bunch of us begged my teacher to let us look at the blood under the microscope like the little freaks we were and for some reason she did??? anyways it looked cool you could see the blood vessels and she kinda incorporated it into the lesson
I've been roof-hopping before
I got my first boxing wraps when I was 8 visiting cousins in Mexico, they decided it was time. Now I keep putting off buying new ones and I just use bandages
My theme/the whole siren thing is based on the fact that I sing :)
I used to joke about running away to join the circus then I made a friend who was actually in the circus and I chickened out
Ooh this looks so fun! Thank you for the tag, I love these omg :>
1. Iâve never broken a bone
2. I was homeschooled from second grade to all through high school
3. I did dual enrollment my last two years of high school, so I should be finishing my AA degree hopefully by the end of this month
4. I hate drinking water, itâs the bane of my existence. Luckily I hacked it and if I add a splash of juice then itâs drinkable. Cranberry juice my goat
5. I currently have a 615 day Reddit streak (im sorry)
6. I did Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu for a few years, got a blue belt before I stopped
7. I donât watch a lot of tv, but my favorite movie is either Zoolander or Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. My tastes vary.
8. I have been in more fistfights than relationships (3 to 0)
9. I love cooking and baking. I make a chocolate cake thatâs pretty life changing
10. I looooove making characters
11. I had whooping cough once when I was a baby
12. I once used sharpie as eyeliner. Iâve also used black gel pen, crayon, and a burnt toothpick. I do have real eyeliner now though lol
I never know who to tag on these, i donât know many people on here đ
