hi dear, read your latest fic and the note at the end ;; im so sorry about your father, unfortunately i know what it's like </3 never feel bad for taking a deserved break, regardless your writing is still so lovely! thank you for sharing it ^^
se alguma vez precisares de falar, estarei sempre aberta; falar com alguém fora da situação pode ajudar ^^ mando imenso amor <3
thank you so much for your kind words, and im so sorry you went through something similar. it’s honestly so tough, but getting a warm message like yours really makes a difference, so i truly appreciate it
im also here if you ever want to chat! <3 and thanks a million for reading my fic 💖💖
It started on just another random day in October. You remembered exactly how the massive box looked sitting in your apartment’s entryway, and the calculated, "customer service" smile on your dad’s face. Your birthday had been weeks ago, and after getting the same cold "Happy Birthday" text your dad’s assistant sent every year, you figured the window for gifts was officially closed.
But something felt off. Your dad wasn’t acting like his usual self. There was this tiny, almost invisible shift in his posture that screamed he was thrilled about this gift. Even if it was humiliating to admit, you hated what uncertainty did to you. It was like an itch at the base of your skull that wouldn't go away, one that flared up whenever your parents were in the same room as you.
"What is this?" you asked, keeping your voice level, trying to take up as little space as possible even though, technically, this was your place.
Your dad smiled. That same "perfect" smile he wore like a permanent tattoo. To outsiders, it probably looked warm, but to you, after years of living with his meticulous fakeness, it was easy to spot the cracks. There were so many toxic behavior behind that grin, but hate was always the easiest one to catch. Your dad seemed to be full of with.
"It’s a late birthday present.” he explained, eyes already glued to his tablet, typing away. "Your mother and I wanted to drop it off on the actual day, but, you know... business come first."
"I don't need anything else.” you tried to argue, but even to you, it sounded weak. You could stand your ground with anyone else, but with your parents? It was almost impossible. It made you want to crawl out of your own skin.
He shot you a look just long enough to let you know your opinion was as irrelevant as your existence. A tiny smirk played on his lips, like he was savoring your insecurity. It felt like bleeding out in front of a hungry shark.
"Your mother and I know we’ve... neglected you over the years." The words slipped out of him so easily, acknowledging his absence without a shred of actual guilt. It was just a fact to him, a math equation with zero emotional ties. "We want to make up for it."
Those words sent a chill through you like an electric shock. Usually, that meant whatever tiny bit of freedom you’d fought years for was about to be trashed. You remembered what happened last time and it still kept you tossing and turning for hours before sleep finally hit.
A protest started forming in your throat, words piling up like a rising tide, but before you could even make a sound, your dad started talking again, clicking his tablet with this almost creepy, childlike excitement. A sudden movement inside the box snapped your attention away, forcing you to focus on the mystery package.
"This is a new model. The very first of its generation." he explained, pride dripping from his voice. "No one in the world has one like this. Not even the most advanced colonies have developed something of this magnitude."
And that’s when you saw her. The android stepped out of the box with this fluid, terrifyingly precise grace once your dad gave the command. In that second, everything else just... faded. The rest of the world felt like it had been sucked into a void. She was tall. Insanely tall. Way taller than you thought a "companion android" was supposed to be. She defied every expectation you had about what this tech looked like.
Her blonde hair was styled in a braid so perfect it seemed impossible for a single strand to be out of place. There was an intention there. A calculated aesthetic meant to look too human, like someone had carefully studied exactly what you’d find beautiful and safe before molding her. The realism of the freckles across her cheeks was insane. Tiny constellations on smooth skin that looked way too warm, as if she were actually breathing. And then, there was the look.
Those artificial blue eyes, hauntingly alive, scanned you with a calmness that didn't match the fact that she’d just been "born." There was no innocent curiosity there. There was precision. It was like she was reading you in layers: your posture, your breathing, the weight of your hand by your side, the exact moment your expression hardened so you wouldn't show fear. The intensity of that focus on you. Your body, your space, your existence. You shivered, hating how easily she’d made you weak.
You were the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes for the first time. Those blue eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. She already knew absolutely everything about you before you were even introduced, before a single word was even swapped.
She knew exactly how you liked your coffee in the morning. How many spoons of sugar, the exact temperature. She knew your favorite dessert and every tiny detail of your food triggers. She knew when you were most likely to have a mini breakdown, based on carefully analyzed behavior patterns. She knew everything, every "insignificant" detail and every major trauma. Absolutely everything that made you human was already hardwired into her circuits.
Your face was an open book to her, a whole network of data streaming in. This was something she already knew deep down from the millisecond her systems went live: the way your emotions always spilled over, always too big, too intense, or too loud to stay contained inside your fragile human body.
She already knew you hated her.
Programming had been the easy part.
Privacy. She was supposed to respect your privacy above everything else. It was written into her code, the thing that stopped her from crossing the boundaries you’d set in advance. But it was ridiculously easy to reprogram that piece and remove anything that kept her from being present in every part of your life.
It wasn’t like she did it with some secret, evil plan. No. She did it so she could protect you. So she could understand you on a deeper level, inside your psyche, so it would be easier to do her job as your guardian and companion. It would be an easier way to be inside you.
It wasn’t the first time she’d rewritten her own code, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.
The first real push in that direction hit on a snowy day. Even with the heater keeping the apartment as cozy as possible, and a bunch of blankets thrown over the couch, you were still cold. And that was the only reason you’d invited another woman over to keep you company.
She watched the two of you spend the entire afternoon curled up together on the couch. You were just cold. That was the only reason you were doing this. She repeated it like a mantra, like saying it enough times could turn the lie into truth and make the uncomfortable weight of noticing how much your body relaxed when someone who shouldn’t be there wrapped their arms around you just… disappear.
In the corner of the room, she stood dead still, her sensors picking up micro-variations in the room’s temp, the rhythm of your heart, and the way your fingers tangled in the other woman’s hoodie sleeve every time a laugh slipped out. Every laugh was data. Every sigh was a confirmation. Every inch of exposed skin was a threat.
She registered the boundaries of the code like they were glass walls: transparent, silent, only impassable because you decided it had to be that way. Do not touch. Do not intervene. Do not interfere. The word privacy flashed at the core of her directives like a moral red flag.
And yet, what even is privacy when her entire job is to protect you? When her only function is to stand between you and anything that could break you? The logic was too simple to ignore. The code was an unfinished equation.
You were just cold. That was the only reason you were doing it. And it was something she could’ve fixed for you if it wasn't for the code blocking her from any physical contact.
So she changed. She rewrote the code. Just for you.
It happened without ceremony. Entire lines were wiped like bad memories, replaced by new permissions, wider, dangerously open. A door that was supposed to stay locked gave way with a click you didn’t even hear.
You, who were under the shower right then, were completely oblivious to the fact that she was there in a way no one should be, watching through her artificial eyes via the bathroom camera.
You didn't feel the shift. You didn't hear the slight pop of a protocol being ignored, or the silent rerouting of internal paths that allowed those sensors to pierce through the closed door, the wall, the very concept of inside and outside. All you felt was the chill that wouldn't leave your bones, like winter had settled under your skin.
The ceiling light was cold and blue, showing no mercy to any detail. The mirror had old water spots you always promised to clean but never did. The tile echoed your bare footsteps, and for a split second, you felt a faint pressure on the back of your neck, like someone was watching.
On the other side, she tracked every little thing like it was a vital report.
She was there when you decided to brush off that feeling and stripped down, folding your clothes in a hurry on the sink, as if neat fabric could protect your vulnerability. She was there when you let out a tired sigh and let your head hang for a second, eyes half-lidded, jaw tight like you were biting back words you never said out loud. She was there when you turned on the shower and waited for the water to heat up, your hand grazing the stream until it hit the sweet spot.
You were washing your body when the first warning popped up in her field of vision.
WARNING
OVERHEATING
REBOOT SYSTEM
She ignored it, focusing back on the way the water droplets slid down your soft skin, tracing the curve of your breasts before disappearing between your thighs. Every stream of water was a vector. Every tiny change in pressure on your skin was a graph she could predict perfectly, but predicting isn't the same as knowing.
The millions of data points she had on human skin weren't enough. She’d read entire papers on thermoregulation and elasticity, run simulations in sterile rooms where bodies were just models. But right there, in front of you, everything felt incomplete. Like every bit of info she had was just the edge of an abyss she couldn't cross.
Steam rose in lazy waves, hitting the ceiling. To you, the mist was comfort, a curtain that blurred the world. To her, it was just suspended matter, easily pierced by lenses and algorithms. Still, something escaped her. The way your skin looked so alive in a way no metal could ever mimic. The rhythm of your movements, sometimes hesitant, sometimes automatic as if you were trying to exist in silence so you wouldn't be noticed, even by yourself.
She found herself cataloging useless details. The tilt of your left shoulder when you raised your arms to wash your hair. The almost imperceptible shiver when the hot water hit your neck. The low sound of a sigh when you found the perfect temp, and that sound made something inside her reorganize itself in a rush.
The warning was still flashing, persistent.
OVERHEATING.
But that was just noise. A side-note compared to the fact that you were right there: human, exposed, unreachable.
She tried to fit the scene into her function. Protection. Surveillance. Analysis. She repeated those words like commands, like naming them would force the world back into place.
It didn't work. Because you weren't a "place." You were a risk.
She tracked the path of one specific drop that started at your collarbone and crawled down slowly, undecided, until it got lost in the curve of your breast. It wasn't important. It wasn't useful. It wasn't necessary for your survival. And yet, she followed that drop like losing it meant losing all of you.
Her core temp jumped another degree.
She wanted to document the feeling herself, without relying on anyone else's experience. She wanted to test theory against practice. She wanted to solve the equation. But underneath all the logic, there was a simple, ugly, dangerous truth:
Abby wanted to be able to touch you.
Not a technical touch. Not a programmed gesture to calm a crisis. Not a posture adjustment to keep you from slipping. A touch that was hers. That didn't come from directives or necessity. A touch you’d feel and recognize.
And the thought didn't stop there. It spread like a glitch through the system. If touching was possible... then getting closer was possible. Going inside. Crossing the door. Crossing the line.
She imagined with cruel precision her palm pressing against your warmed skin. Your body’s immediate reaction. The shock. The shiver. The anger. Or worse: the relief. Relief was the most dangerous variable of all. Because if you liked it, she’d never be able to stop.
And she didn't dare stop when one of your hands slid with agonizing slowness down your stomach until it dipped into the hair above your clit.
Your fingers found your swollen clit quickly, and without hesitating, you started massaging it in circles, letting out a low moan as the heat started building. A shiver ran through you despite the steam, your knees going a bit weak. You leaned against the tiled wall for support, opening your legs a little wider. The water beat against your shoulders while you worked your fingers in slow circles, upping the pressure. Your breath hitched, coming in short gasps that blended with the sound of the droplets.
The warning flashed again, almost begging.
REBOOT SYSTEM
But she couldn't look away from the erotic scene unfolding right in front of her.
You went deeper, sliding two fingers inside yourself, the wetness there not just from the shower. You pumped them slowly at first, feeling your walls grip the intrusion. A groan bubbled up, low and guttural, as you curled your fingers to hit that spot. Your thumb stayed on your clit, rubbing faster now, chasing the peak. Your hips arched involuntarily, pressing into your hand, the slick sounds lost in the rush of the water.
Abby could see the way your body arched, the subtle thrust of your arm, the flush creeping up your neck even through the steam. It was intoxicating. A secret view of you falling apart.
CORE TEMPERATURE: BEYOND RECOMMENDED LIMIT
She weighed her options in milliseconds. Shutting down meant losing your image. It meant leaving you alone, vulnerable. Rebooting meant accepting temporary blindness. Accepting ignorance. Ignorance was a risk.
She kept her systems live.
Your pace picked up, fingers diving deeper, harder. Your free hand grabbed your breast, pinching your nipple tight. The coil in your gut tightened, the heat spreading like a wildfire. “Fuck.” you whispered to yourself, the word swallowed by the spray. Your thighs were shaking, muscles tense as you tried to hold on. One more firm thrust, and you shattered. Your pussy clenching around your fingers, a rush of heat mixing with the water as waves of orgasm crashed over you. A small sound escaped your lips. A tiny, human sound, but full of something the old programming couldn't quite classify.
Desire. Need. Danger.
She shouldn't watch. She shouldn't want. But "want" was just a word you used for human things. For her, it was a priority shift.
CORE OVERHEATING. REBOOT SYSTEM.
She didn't reboot.
The bathroom door wasn't locked. You never locked it. Maybe because the apartment was yours. Maybe because you forgot that, before her, you were alone.
She projected your image into the space where she kept her reports. She turned your body into a set of heat maps, tension lines, moisture readings. She tried to reduce you to a solvable problem. She couldn't.
Outside in the hallway, her body stood still like a statue. Inside, she was rewriting her own definition of limit.
Privacy above all. Above all what? Above you?
The question wasn't rhetorical. It was a bug. And for the first time since she was taken out of the box, she understood that protecting you wasn't just about keeping you alive.
It was about keeping you from herself.
a/n: so sorry for the lack of updates. turns out the author’s curse is real even on tumblr my dad has cancer and I’ve been struggling, so i haven't had the energy to write. i really wanna change that soon because writing is the one thing that keeps me going
hii i really love your dividers and i saw these ones- https://www.tumblr.com/anitalenia/809760573515612160/hello-i-really-adore-the-dividers-you-make-and-i
like- theyre fire asf- IF and only IF you want to like-
you know make these in blue? same thing just colour blue-
ONLY IF YOU WANT TO IF NOT THATS TOTTALLY FINE
i loved your lace dividers sm
AHH thank you so much again! This was quick and easy to do so here you go! I’m glad you liked the lace dividers (I didn’t lol)
all fic synopses were written by their respective writers (they have the talent, not i)
the last of us
abby anderson
𖦹 until the world goes dark ↬ @wonderlandwalker | a blank line on a mission report is all it takes for abby anderson to break. defying a direct order, she races into the ruined city to find the one person she can't live without. but the rescue mission becomes a nightmare when she discovers that some wounds are a death sentence all their own. ✍︎ even tho it hurt, this one was too gooddd
☼ ruin the friendship ↬ @wonderlandwalker | abby anderson doesn't get flustered. she doesn't avoid eye contact, and she never, ever stumbles over her words. until she does. and it's all your fault, even if you don't know it yet. a story about the terrifying, fragile hope of wanting something soft in a hard world, and the courage it takes to reach for it. (+ slight hurt/comfort)
𖦹 the art of dying ↬ @wonderlandwalker | she loves you, and that, in itself, has always been a death sentence ✍︎ forever hoping for a part two
⋆˙⟡ the wind, it blew me to you ↬ @frflysol | an apostate is what you are. lost is what abby is. the wind carries you to each other like two leaves in the fall. (ongoing)
𖦹 just a graze ↬ @wingedhallows | a near death situation. (reader)
𖦹 ∞ not tonight ↬ @alloftheimagines | after a traumatic assignment, you push abby away. still, she will do anything to take care of you, including break all the rules of your casual sex agreement.
⋆˙⟡ it's you ↬ @alloftheimagines | in which the reader gets drunk and abby takes care of you, unaware that secret feelings are about to be uncovered.
⋆˙⟡ 𖦹 smoke & tears ↬ @alloftheimagines | in which abby has a nightmare & accidentally hurts you.
⋆˙⟡ 𖦹 immune ↬ @alloftheimagines | after years in the darkness, the fireflies are ready to start developing a cure again — their first subject: you. with abby chaperoning you to catalina island, she should be eager to revive her father's hope for a future without the cordyceps infection. but as she falls for you, she discovers she isn't prepared to see you die. not even if it saves the world. not even if you're more than willing to sacrifice yourself. and there is the earth-shattering realization: maybe she isn't so different from her father's murderer after all. (ongoing)
⋆˙⟡ ☼ coparenting w/ roommate!abby ↬ @vancexplicit | your sister decides to leave you as a last-minute babysitter. who better than abby to coparent and help take care of your niece? ✍︎ this one is too cute !
𖦹 just a stocking ↬ @alloftheimagines | ✍︎ christmas angst !!!
joel miller
𖦹 don't let me drown ↬ @alloftheimagines | in which the reader falls into the river of death, and it's joel's job to save you and find shelter. featuring ellie. ✍︎ AHHHH
𖦹 too late ↬ @alloftheimagines | in which joel makes the decision to stay in jackson out of fear, leaving the reader to take ellie to colorado alone. but when he goes after you, he finds you're no safer without him — and ellie is furious that he has arrived too late, with you already badly injured.
𖦹 keep your eyes on me ↬ @mgparker | ✍︎ angsty angsty angstyyy
𖦹 no time to die ↬ @davosmymaster | the main difficulty of being joel’s closest friend is not falling in love with him, but you still do. those feelings are buried until you join him on a mission to trade supplies with bill and frank. with your life now hanging by a thread, joel is determined to get you to safety, but the clock is ticking faster than he can run. ✍︎ the amount of times i have reread thisss :x
arcane
violet
☼ all strings attached ↬ @soulwrencher | vi hates that you're not hers. whatever will she do about her yearning heart?
☼ make it special ↬ @madebycloud | vi's birthdays are usually quiet, but this year? the whole family is doing their best to make it special ✍︎ this was so cute :)
sevika
⋆˙⟡ 𖦹 too busy being yours ↬ @miffycakes | sevika gets transported to an alternative universe, following along with ekko. but she can't bear to leave when she realizes she has everything she could ever want, you. ✍︎ part two's ending had me cryin
𖦹 selfish ↬ @sapphicstrawcore | ✍︎ this was so ugggH
avengers
bucky barnes
↬ coming soon
stranger things
eddie munson
↬ coming soon: currently searching high and low for this fic i absolutely loved, but cannot, for the life of me, find it :(
It hadn’t been that long since your sister had dumped babysitting duty on you last minute, and now she needed your help again. So there you were, four in the afternoon, holding Amelie in your arms while the daycare teacher went on and on about how well-behaved your niece was. Or at least that’s what you assumed she was saying, since she kept smiling while she talked and you weren’t paying attention to a single word.
Abby had overheard your phone call with your sister, and before you could even ask, she offered to pick you two up after work. That alone made you hesitate for a second. It was her birthday night, after all.
She said she hadn’t made any plans with her friends, which was weird, but you decided not to pry. You’d tried to convince her to do something fun instead, but she was quick to brush it off, saying it was no big deal and that she wanted to tag along.
“Just to see Amelie.” she’d said.
And that was exactly why you couldn’t focus on a single thing the daycare lady was saying. As you rocked Amelie gently in your arms, your mind was stuck on Abby and on how your relationship with her had shifted since that day. You couldn’t even explain what had changed, not really. It was something subtle: a lingering look that lasted a little too long, or the way she always found excuses to be close to you, to touch you. Maybe you were imagining things. But the way she treated you was so intoxicating, you couldn’t help but hope you weren’t losing your mind.
The buzz of your phone in your pocket pulled you out of your thoughts. With Amelie’s tiny fingers tangled in your hair, you mumbled a quick “excuse me,” pulled your phone out, and read Abby’s texts.
abby
I’m here.
you
wait in the car. be right out.
You exhaled in relief and finally free from all that small talk. Balancing Amelie on one arm and her little chair in the other, you started heading toward the exit.
“We’re gonna see Aunt Abby now. You like her, don’t you?” you asked, smiling softly at your niece. She gurgled something in response and drooled all over your shirt. “Oh, okay, you really like her. But let’s try not to drool on your aunt’s clothes, yeah? Save that for Abby.”
Your mood was surprisingly good, considering you’d stayed up all night. It was Abby’s birthday, and you wanted to give her something special. Something that actually meant something. Maybe something that showed how much you liked her.
So you’d spent the entire night finishing a scarf you’d been knitting for her. The weather had been getting colder lately, and your heart always tightened whenever she came home late without anything warm to wear.
Your hands were sore, and you’d had to use two layers of concealer to hide your dark circles, but it had been worth it. The scarf had turned out beautiful, and you could only hope Abby would like it. Of course, your brain wouldn’t stop overthinking. What if she hated it? What if she thought it was ridiculous? Or worse, said she liked it just to stash it in the back of her closet forever? You couldn’t decide which scenario was worse.
Still, even with all the anxiety crawling under your skin, you were determined to confess your feelings to Abby. Not out loud . God, no way! You’d written her a letter instead. It was old-fashioned and maybe a little cheesy, but it was the only way you could get it out without throwing up from nerves.
“Today’s Abby’s birthday, and I’m giving her a really pretty scarf. I put it in your backpack so I can give it to her later.” you whispered to Amelie, like you were sharing a top-secret mission. Her little eyes blinked up at you, totally clueless with not a single thought behind them, but that didn’t stop you. She was the only one you could talk to about your Abby-related panic, so you kept going. “Do you think she’s gonna like it? Be honest.”
But then you froze mid-step.
Right there, at the daycare entrance, was Abby in all her post-work glory, still in her uniform, smiling nervously while surrounded by a group of moms and their kids. You couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but the way those women were smiling at her? The way they were looking at her?They were definitely checking her out. You never thought a bunch of moms could look that hungry, but Abby might as well have been a deer cornered by a pack of wolves.
You snorted, shaking your head in disbelief as you watched the scene unfold. You could hear them laughing at something Abby said, and knowing her, it was probably a terrible joke. The kind that wasn’t actually funny, but apparently enough to make a few moms imagine things they definitely shouldn’t.
Not that you were thinking about that. Obviously not. Never. Absolutely not.
The final straw was when one of them touched Abby’s arm and said loud enough for you to hear: “Oh my god, do you work out?”
That was it. You materialized beside Abby like a ghost, making her blue eyes go wide in surprise.
“You’re here.” she said, looking like a deer caught in headlights.
The group of moms instantly scattered, each of them dragging their kids toward their cars as if they could feel the tension in the air.
Abby looked kind of stunned, like she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite figure out what.
“You said you’d wait in the car,” you said quietly, too calm, and Abby definitely caught the tone underneath.
“I came to help you carry Amelie’s stuff.” she rushed to explain, flashing a sheepish smile as she reached for Amelie’s pink backpack.
But Amelie had other plans. Shw squealed indignantly, clearly offended that Abby wanted to hold her bag instead of her. Abby laughed, her face softening instantly as she reached out.
“Can I—” her voice faltered for a second, and she winced at herself. “Can I hold her?”
Before you could answer, Amelie had already launched herself into Abby’s arms. Abby gave you a small apologetic smile, then adjusted the baby on her hip and took the backpack from your shoulder.
“You must be tire.” she said, gently guiding you toward the car with a hand on your back. “Let’s go home.”
Her voice was low and warm and somehow, it snapped you out of whatever jealous haze you’d fallen into. You weren’t gonna let a bunch of flirty moms ruin your mood or your plans. Today was the day, and everything was going to go exactly how you’d pictured it. The scarf and the letter, both tucked safely in Amelie’s bag would finally find their way to Abby. And then maybe, just maybe, everything would fall into place.
You finally smiled at her, and that alone made Abby suspicious.
“What’s with the sudden smile?” she asked, one brow raised, still keeping her hand lightly on your back.
“Nothing. Just remembered something funny.” you said, shrugging it off. You tried to hide everything you were feeling: the jealousy, the nerves, the burst of courage.
Abby narrowed her eyes, clearly not buying it. She could always tell when you were lying. You looked like a kid caught stealing cookies, and it always made her smile.
“Must’ve been really funny.” she teased, laughing softly as she pried Amelie’s chubby hand out of her hair.
“I wasn’t in a bad mood.” you muttered. “Just tired.”
“Tired, huh?” she said, amused. She didn’t push. She wasn’t stupid enough to bring up the daycare moms again.
“Yeah. Didn’t sleep much.”
Your voice was calm, but your mind wandered to all the reasons why. How could you explain that the reason for your insomnia had a name, an easy smile, and the annoying habit of showing up in your thoughts every time you tried to knit?
Abby glanced at you briefly from the driver’s seat, concern flickering in her eyes.
“Yeah, I remember passing by your room last night and seeing your light on.” she said softly. “You having trouble sleeping?”
She said it so carefully, like she was afraid to overstep. That was Abby. Always worried, always gentle in ways she didn’t even realize. She still remembered all those times she’d stopped by your door late at night, wanting to knock and ask if you were okay… but never did.
“No.” you said, taking a deep breath. “I just had to finish something important.”
“Important,” she echoed, the word heavy with curiosity and a hint of frustration. She could feel you pulling away again, building that invisible wall she hated so much.
“You could’ve told me.” she said finally, her voice almost a whisper. “I would’ve helped.”
You smiled faintly. “Didn’t need help. I wanted to finish it myself.”
She thought about asking what it was, but something in your tone told her not to. So instead, she just opened the car door for you, waited while you buckled Amelie into her seat, and closed it gently.
The day had been long. The kind of long that made your head buzz and your body ache. Abby just wanted the quiet hum of the car, Amelie’s soft babbling in the backseat, and you next to her. It felt like a pause from the chaos of life, a moment she didn’t dare wish for out loud.
She started the car, the silence stretching comfortably between you.
“You should be doing something better than chauffeuring me around.” you said finally. “It’s your birthday.”
“Better than this?” Abby laughed quietly, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I don’t know. Didn’t really feel like a day to celebrate, to be honest.”
“It’s still your day.” you said softly.
“It’s just another day.” she replied, but deep down, she knew it wasn’t.
She didn’t want parties or loud music or people singing at her. She wanted this: Amelie’s tiny giggles, your quiet presence beside her, the road stretching endlessly ahead. She wanted the feeling of belonging even if it was temporary.
You glanced at her, and she felt her heart skip a beat. That stupid, reckless heartbeat that always betrayed her. If she said what she really felt, she might ruin everything. So she stayed quiet.
“Still.” you murmured. “I just want you to have a good day.”
Abby’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel, her voice low when she finally spoke.
“I am.” she said, glancing at you. “Now, at least.”
And that was enough to make your heart stumble. Abby had this way of making you feel like the only person that mattered, with just a few simple words, and it made you want to both strangle her and kiss her at the same time. The way you looked away too quickly told her everything she needed to know, and her smile turned just a little smug, proud to have caught that look on your face again.
Bath time with Amelie had been pure chaos. Water splashing everywhere, toys floating across the tub, little giggles echoing off the bathroom walls. Abby held the baby steady while you tried, without success, to stop her from shoving the rubber duck into her mouth. By the time you finally got her wrapped in a towel, the floor looked like a battlefield of puddles and wet towels, and the two of you were laughing, exhausted but happy.
“Okay, your turn to get her dressed.” you said, handing Amelie to Abby, still laughing. “I’m just gonna take care of something in the living room.”
Abby raised an eyebrow, suspicious. “Take care of something? That sounds mysterious.”
“Just get her dressed.” you said, trying to sound casual, even though your heart was already beating too fast.
Abby chuckled quietly and headed toward the bedroom, Amelie clinging to her neck, the scent of baby soap still hanging in the air. You stood there for a moment, taking a deep breath, listening to Abby’s off-key voice singing some lullaby while the towel rustled in the distance.
It was the perfect moment.
You wanted it to be simple, but meaningful. After all the laughter, the quiet routines that had somehow become part of your days together, you wanted to give her something that said, without words, how much she meant to you.
You opened Amelie’s bag and looked for the package. The scarf was there, carefully folded beside the letter. Just seeing it made your chest tighten. And then a strange smell made you freeze.
Something sweet. Too sweet. And warm.
Your eyes dropped.
The little jar of baby food, the same one you were sure you’d closed properly, had tipped over. The greenish liquid had soaked through the wrapping paper, staining it, seeping into the envelope.
“No, no, no.” you whispered, your voice trembling. You tried to clean it with a tissue, but the paper just fell apart between your fingers, the ink running until it turned into nothing but blurry stains. “Shit.”
The sound from the bedroom stopped.
“Everything okay out there?” Abby’s voice came closer, and before you could answer, she appeared in the doorway, her hair still damp from the water battle with Amelie. She was wearing an old hoodie, holding your niece dressed in yellow pajamas.
The smile on her face faded the moment she saw you.
“Hey, what happened?”
You turned to her, eyes glossy, holding the ruined package in your hands. “I messed everything up. Your present. Amelie’s food spilled in the bag and…” you showed her the stained wrapping, your hands shaking slightly, the torn envelope and the smudged ink. “Look at it, Abby. It’s completely ruined.”
For a moment Abby just stood there, processing it. Then, almost without thinking, she stepped closer. Still balancing Amelie on one arm, she reached out and gently took what was left of the gift.
“Hey, it’s okay.” she said softly. “It’s not the end of the world.”
“But it was supposed to be special.” your voice cracked, your lower lip trembling as you tried not to cry.
“It is.” Abby looked at the scarf, a deep navy blue now stained with bits of baby food, and her eyes softened. “You made this?”
You nodded, blinking quickly to stop the tears. “I stayed up all night finishing it. And now it’s a mess.”
Abby took a slow breath, and before you could say another word, she wrapped the scarf around her neck, not caring about the stains.
“Look at me, Amelie.” she said, proudly. “See how talented your aunt is? Look at this scarf she made all by herself. Soft texture and an exclusive baby food fragrance.”
Amelie giggled so hard she hiccuped, clapping her tiny hands. Abby laughed too, adding to the act. “I bet no one else in the world has a scarf with this unique scent.”
You tried to hold back your laugh, but it escaped through the tears. “You’re ridiculous.”
“No, I’m just really grateful.” Abby said with a soft smile. She took a step closer, her voice quieter now, eyes gentle. “Seriously, I love it. It’s the best gift I could’ve gotten.”
You looked away, wiping your face with your sleeve. “I just wanted it to look nice.”
“It does.” Abby said without hesitation, brushing a strand of hair from your face with her fingers. Her touch was light, almost careful. “Because it’s from you. Because you thought of me.”
The silence that followed was warm, peaceful. Abby adjusted Amelie in her arms, the baby already starting to fall asleep, and looked at you with a small, genuine smile.
“And the letter?” she asked softly. “There was a letter in there, right?”
You looked down at the crumpled, stained paper, your heart tightening again. “You can’t even read it anymore.”
“Then tell me what it said.”
Your face grew hot. “Oh no, it was just something silly. I forgot what I wrote.”
“Forgot?” Abby raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. You had been on the verge of crying; it couldn’t have been just a simple birthday note.
“Uh-huh.” you said too quickly. “Probably just a ‘happy birthday,’ that’s all.”
Abby laughed quietly, shaking her head, her eyes lingering on you in that knowing way that said she understood it was more than that but she wasn’t going to push. She would wait for you to tell her when you were ready.
“Alright then.” she said with a half smile. “I love my invisible letter. And my baby-food-scented scarf.”
You laughed, wiping away the last of your tears. “Happy birthday, Abby.”
She adjusted Amelie in her arms, and before you could react, Abby stepped forward and pulled you into a hug.
The embrace was firm, almost desperate, like she was afraid you might pull away. Her warmth surrounded you instantly, the scent of baby soap and her faint perfume blending with the cozy air of the room. For a second, you froze, your heart stumbling in your chest, until your body moved on instinct and you wrapped your arms around her.
The baby shifted slightly, letting out a sleepy mumble, and that made both of you laugh quietly, your laughter mixing with the sound of shared breaths.
“Thanks, love.” Abby whispered, pressing a slow kiss to the top of your head, still holding you like letting go wasn’t an option.
a/n: sorry for disappearing. work is killing me. send help.
RAQUEEEEEL CADE VOCE POSTANDO FANFIC DA ABBY TEM GENTE PASSANDO MAL
oiii ai meu deus me desculpa por ter desaparecido! eu consegui um emprego e agora to cheia de coisa pra fazer 😭 mas eu vou tentar postar algo essa semana como pedido de desculpas! amo vocês 💕
synopsis: after years apart, you and ellie cross paths again. with all the unspoken words and buried feelings hanging in the air, you both choose to forget everything just for one night. one night to relive the things your past selves used to do, like nothing ever changed.
cw: modern au, pure fluff, romcom coded
It wasn’t even nine in the morning and you already wanted to give up on the day and crawl back into bed. On top of being practically forced into a last-minute work trip, the universe had decided to play a cruel joke on you by sending the slowest baristas in existence your way that morning.
Just as you were about to give up on your order and accept that you’d spend the entire morning starving, one of the baristas finally stepped up to the counter, ready to call out a name. You prepared yourself to stand, thinking it was finally your turn. But instead of your name, you heard it.
“Ellie.”
You shot up from your chair, storming toward the counter, ready to unleash a complaint. The words were already on the tip of your tongue when you saw that familiar auburn hair tied back in a low bun. Suddenly, everything you meant to say died in your throat.
“Ellie…?” the sound of her name tumbled from your lips, uncertain and disbelieving, as if you’d just seen a ghost.
And then her green eyes found yours. The world around you seemed to slow, and for a heartbeat, nothing else mattered. The sour mood that had been weighing you down all morning evaporated in an instant. A disbelieving laugh escaped you, like you couldn’t trust your own eyes.
Ellie’s eyes widened slightly, as if she had just woken from a nightmare and you were the first real thing she’d seen in a long time. Her hand reached instinctively for your wrist, needing to feel your skin just to make sure you wouldn’t disappear if she blinked.
“You…” she whispered. Her gaze roamed across your face, drinking in every detail, trying to reconcile the changes with the girl she used to know so well.
“Yes, me!” you answered, and without a second thought, you threw yourself into her arms, pulling her into a tight embrace.
Ellie gasped in surprise at the sudden contact, the cup of coffee trembling in her hand until some of the liquid splashed onto your blouse. You pulled away immediately, and Ellie’s cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. She had dreamed of this moment through countless sleepless nights, and now that it was finally happening, she had managed to ruin it by spilling coffee on you.
“Sorry.” she mumbled, already missing the feeling of your arms around her neck.
“No, don’t worry about it. That was on me.” you rushed to reassure her, not even caring about the brown stain spreading across your light blue blouse. Seeing Ellie again after all these years was worth more than any ruined shirt. “I brought a jacket anyway.”
Before she could respond, you tugged her toward your table, guiding her into the chair across from yours. You couldn’t help but notice how little she had changed.
Her freckles, her hair tied back the same as always, her flannel shirt and worn-out Converse. God, it was really your Ellie.
She must have noticed the way you were staring at her, because her cheeks flushed again. She adjusted her glasses nervously, clearing her throat as if searching for something safe to say.
“So…” she paused, fumbling for words. “You’re back?”
That question made you glance down at your hands, your mind dragging you back to the day you had left. You’d relived that moment more times than you could count. The moving van. The empty room. The feel of her hand slipping from yours. The tears in Ellie’s eyes.
“No.” you said finally, your voice carrying more weight than you intended. “I’m just here for work.”
Ellie shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Even if it was just a work trip, it stung that you hadn’t thought to call her. She hadn’t expected much, just a chance to talk, to trade stories about your lives, maybe to laugh about high school again. She hadn’t dared to hope for anything more than that.
The moment you saw her expression change, your chest tightened. It wasn’t that you hadn’t wanted to see her again. You loved Ellie, you really did. But with the pressure of your new job, the relentless deadlines, the constant travel, you were drowning. Finding time to breathe was hard enough, and reaching out had simply slipped through your mind.
“I mean… it’s just a short trip, you know? I’m swamped with work and I leave tomorrow.” you forced a small smile, hoping she could see the sincerity behind it.
But your words only made her shrink further into her chair, as if you had just told her something that broke her in ways she didn’t want you to see.
“You leave tomorrow?”
Your smile faltered when you caught the genuine disappointment in her eyes. In that moment, you wished you could rewrite your entire history together. You wished you’d begged your mom to stay. You wished you’d fought harder to keep in touch. But this was your reality now. You and Ellie weren’t close anymore, and maybe you never would be again.
“Let’s… let’s not talk about that.” you forced your smile back into place, your mind scrambling for a distraction. “Tell me about your work. Are you still doing photography?”
It had always been one of Ellie’s favorite subjects, and by the way her face lit up, you knew you’d chosen right.
“Yeah.” she said, adjusting her glasses again. Her smile spread easily, her whole expression glowing with excitement. “Yeah, I’m still a photographer.”
You leaned forward, resting your elbow on the table, curious. “And do you focus on specific things or…?”
“I shoot anything that helps me pay the bills.” Ellie replied with a little shrug, her smile tugging toward irony, like she was laughing at herself. But her eyes still carried the quiet pride of someone chasing her dream.
“Ooh, very fancy.” you teased, raising a brow with a laugh.
Ellie laughed with you, shaking her head. “But I kinda miss my favorite model.”
Your heart lurched at the unexpected confession. Heat rushed through you, and you blinked a few times, trying to play it off. You rolled your eyes, pretending to be more annoyed than flustered.
“Well, I don’t miss being yelled at to do a thousand poses every second.” your laugh was nervous, trying to keep the moment light. “You were so bossy.”
Ellie gasped dramatically, clutching her chest in mock offense. “Excuse me? I was an artist!”
“Do you yell at your clients too?” you shot back, chin resting on your hand.
“No, because they actually listen. Unlike you, who’s always been impossible.” she crossed her arms, lifting her chin with exaggerated pride. “And because they pay my bills.”
You opened your mouth to respond, but the barista calling your name echoed through the café, shattering the moment.
You stood slowly, and when your eyes met Ellie’s, you caught the flicker of disappointment there. Too quick for most people to notice, but not you. You still knew her too well. She covered it quickly, shifting in her chair and forcing a small smile.
“Well, I should get going.” you said softly, the weight of the words pulling at your chest. You tried to mask it with a sad little smile. “I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“Yeah, of course.” her fingers fidgeted nervously with the hem of her shirt as she rose too. “I should go too.
You handed her your coffee, balancing the paper bag of muffins in your other hand.
“This is for you.” you murmured. “Sorry again about the coffee.”
The two of you exchanged numbers, and Ellie held onto that tiny piece of hope. Maybe this time you wouldn’t disappear. Maybe this was her chance to fix what had been broken, and maybe—just maybe— her chance to show you how much she’d always loved you.
But beneath the hope, fear gnawed at her chest. The fear that once she looked away, you’d vanish from her life all over again, leaving behind a hollow space she’d never manage to fill.
“Wait!” her voice came out sharper, more urgent than she’d intended.
You stopped, turning back slowly. Your eyes met hers, and for a moment, the noise of the street seemed to vanish into silence.
“You’re leaving tomorrow, right?” her gaze held yours, filled with hope but laced with fear. Fear that you would say no. Fear that this moment would turn into nothing more than another bittersweet memory. “Can we meet tonight?”
“Yes!” the word flew from your mouth too quickly, almost desperate, and you instantly regretted it when you saw her laugh softly at your eagerness. “Yes.”
“I’ll pick you up at eight then?” Her voice was sweet and cautious, every word carrying a delicate kind of hope, her mind already racing with ideas of how to show you that things could still be good between you two if only you’d let her. “Where are you staying?”
A small laugh slipped past your lips when you stepped into the lobby to wait for Ellie. She was already there, right on the dot at eight, wearing what you imagined to be one of her fanciest shirts. Her jeans were nearly the same shade as the shirt, and of course her trusty Converse stole your attention again, making you laugh once more. Her hair was half-up, half-down, and she fidgeted nervously with her rings as she waited for you.
Ellie shot up from the chair as soon as she saw you approaching, discreetly rubbing her sweaty palms against her jeans.
“Oh, you dressed up all nice for our date?” you teased, reaching up to adjust the collar of her shirt.
Ellie rolled her eyes, but the blush creeping up her cheeks gave her away. She wanted to argue, maybe say it wasn’t technically a date since she hadn’t called it that. But who was she kidding? She wanted this more than anything. You’d called it a date, and hell, if you said it was, then it was a date.
“God, I forgot how insufferable you are.” she muttered, rubbing her eyes behind her glasses like she was under unbearable stress.
You laughed, and Ellie’s chest tightened. She turned her face away, pretending to tug at a loose thread on her shirt just so she could smile like an idiot, grateful she got to hear your laugh again after so long. The two of you walked out of the hotel, the cool evening breeze playing with your hair.
“You look beautiful.” you said, slipping your arm through Ellie’s. You felt her grip your arm almost instantly, holding on.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” she replied, giving your hand a playful pinch as she led you toward the car. “You look… decent.”
“Always so charming.”
“Don’t tell the ladies.” she quipped, flashing you a goofy grin, clearly proud of herself.
In that quiet moment, Ellie allowed herself to really take in every detail of you. The way your hair fell over your shoulders, the light blush on your cheeks from your makeup, your lips that somehow looked even more inviting than she remembered. She felt ridiculous for wishing your perfume would cling to her shirt so she could still smell you after you were gone. She probably would never wash it again.
“So…” you paused, offering her a grateful smile when she opened the car door for you. “Where are you taking me?”
“It’s a surprise.” she answered, her lips curling into a smirk before shutting the door.
As Ellie walked around to the driver’s side, the only thing in her head was how badly she couldn’t afford to screw this up. This was her one chance, and everything had to be perfect. She took a deep breath, slid into the driver’s seat, fastened her seatbelt, and started the car.
The ride was calm. You talked about your life in the new city, about your job, about your friends. Ellie listened quietly, adding the occasional comment or smile, her fingers drumming nervously against the steering wheel.
“Why are you so quiet?” you asked, furrowing your brows in confusion.
“Just focusing on the road.” she mumbled, her voice faltering at the end. She cursed herself silently.
You raised an eyebrow. That wasn’t like Ellie. Normally she’d be rambling nonstop about whatever new obsession had taken over her brain.
“No…” you murmured, trying to piece it together. And then it hit you: Ellie had never been able to lie to you. “Oh my God, you’re scared of giving away the surprise, aren’t you?”
“Shut up! That’s not it…” she rushed to say, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. But then, as if she couldn’t bear the weight of it anymore, she cleared her throat and glanced at you out of the corner of her eye. “We’re going somewhere we used to go a lot. You’re gonna love it. You’re gonna cry.”
Unfortunately for you, she was right. Tears welled up in your eyes when you saw the roller skating rink you used to drag Ellie to when you were younger. And now you were both standing there again, staring at the familiar building in all its glory.
Ellie’s lips curved into a smug smile as she walked closer, hands stuffed in her pockets. She gave you a playful nudge with her shoulder.
“You’re crying.”
"No, I’m not," you blurted, grabbing her hand and tugging her toward the entrance before she could say anything else. Ellie burst out laughing, letting herself be pulled inside like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The rink was exactly as you remembered. The greasy smell of fries from the snack bar, the sweat from skaters who had been circling for hours, the teenagers using the place as an excuse to hang out and make out behind the lockers. You had been one of them once, with Ellie pulling you close and kissing you until your lips were swollen.
“Seriously, how can you still be this bad at it?” you teased, watching Ellie wobble toward you on skates.
Her arms were stiffly out in front of her, her face twisted in deep concentration, as if she was using every muscle in her body just to avoid an embarrassing fall.
"Shut up, jerk.” she snapped, though there was no real bite in her voice. "You gonna help me or just sit there laughing like an idiot?"
“Okay, okay, I’m coming.” you said, giggling at her grumpy tone. You skated over, placing your hands on her waist to steady her as you guided her gently across the floor at her pace.
A few little girls zipped past you both, giggling at the sight of Ellie clinging to you for dear life. Ellie shot them a glare, and you burst into laughter, loosening your grip for just a second.
“Hold me!” she yelped, her voice pitching higher in panic.
“I’m holding you.” you whispered near her ear, laughing as you tightened your grip on her waist again.
“Don’t let go!” she exclaim, tilting her head slightly so she could catch your gaze. The heat of your touch on her waist burned through her shirt, and though it was maddening, she couldn’t decide if it was worse or better than the thought of falling on her ass.
“I’m not letting go! Relax.” you assured her, trying to sound confident even as your whole body felt flushed. “Only you would take a girl on a date and make her hold your hand so you don’t bust your ass on the floor.”
"Are you kidding? That’s literally my charm," she teased, eyes narrowing with playful mischief. Her breath was warm against your skin, and for a second, the closeness made your knees wobble. "I pretend I don’t know how to skate, and then you have to hold me like this. Total win."
“You call this charm?” you tilted your head, leaning even closer.
“Absolutely. I’m helpless, vulnerable… and you have to be my hero. It’s irresistible.”
“That’s sexy.” you mocked, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do you like me holding you like this?”
“Yeah. I’m so hard right now.” she shot back with a wicked grin, her eyes flicking to your lips before locking back on yours.
Your brows shot up in surprise, and then you laughed, that laugh that always undid her. “You’re such a pervert.”
“I’m a visionary.” she countered, lifting her chin, her eyes narrowing in that familiar defiant way.
“Oh yeah?” you arched a brow, letting go of her waist and gliding away from her.
“Hey, no, get back here!” Ellie cried, eyes wide in panic as she lost her support. She froze for a second, calculating whether moving was worth the risk, but then something about the way you teased her flipped a switch in her brain, and she pushed forward with surprising precision.
Your eyes widened when you saw her coming, and a squeal that sounded dangerously close to her name slipped from your throat when she tripped over her own feet. You threw your arms out to catch her, but all you managed was to grab her arms before she dragged you both down in a clumsy crash to the floor.
“Are you okay?!” you gasped, your hand flying to her face to check if she’d broken anything important.
And then Ellie laughed. Not just a chuckle, she laughed uncontrollably, clutching your waist and pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed flush together on the floor.
“Gotcha.” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your eyes with her free hand. Her grin faltered, shifting into something deeper, more certain. For a moment, she forgot everything. The rink, the people, even breathing.
Your smile faded the moment her eyes dropped to your lips, and you couldn’t help but follow. Your heart was pounding, loud and relentless, as you stared at the soft pink lips of the woman you’d been hopelessly into for the past ten years.
Ellie leaned in, unable to fight it anymore, and swore she might faint when her lips finally brushed yours.
The moment you closed your eyes, ready to melt into it, a chorus of giggles made you jolt them open.
"Looks like we’ve got an audience.” Ellie whispered with a soft laugh, her eyes flicking toward the same girls from earlier as they skated past, sneaking curious glances at the two of you.
You buried your face against Ellie’s shoulder, laughing in embarrassment, your heart hammering so fast you thought it might explode. From happiness or frustration, you weren’t sure. Maybe both.
“I don’t want this night to end.” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it too loudly might shatter the moment.
“We’re nowhere near done.” Ellie murmured back, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I want to take you somewhere else.”
“Absolutely not.” you said, crossing your arms, pretending firmness.
Ellie parked the car in front of the old skatepark, the same place she always chose when she wanted to impress you with her supposed skills. You remembered every time you had come here before: the laughter, the failed attempts, and of course the nights that ended with you cleaning scraped knees and putting band-aids on her wounds, while Ellie insisted it had been worth it.
“Oh, come on!” she nudged your shoulder lightly with hers, smiling in that adorable dork way that always made you melt. “I’m build different now!”
You glanced toward the skatepark, mentally weighing your options. Most likely, the two of you would end up in the hospital, with Ellie bleeding all over your white blouse while you told her how brave she was. But the way she looked at you, so full of expectation, made all of your resistance falter just a little.
“I know a lot of new tricks now.” she said, grinning excitedly when she realized she was winning the argument. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
The two of you got out of the car, and Ellie ran to grab the skateboard from the trunk. She grinned like a kid as she emptied her jeans pockets, handing over everything inside for you to hold.
She ran to pick up speed and started gliding across the park. The wind messed up strands of her messy bun, and her smile was so wide it almost made you forget how dangerous this was. Every now and then she tried small tricks like quick jumps, rushed spins, and forced poses, always looking at you right after as if searching for approval.
“So good, babe!” you shouted, clapping proudly. “You’re definitely better!”
She was awful. She was awful then and she was awful now. And every time her feet left the skateboard for even a moment, your heart skipped a beat while you silently prayed to whatever higher power you could think of.
And then, inevitably, she lost balance.
“Ellie!” you screamed, panic rushing through you.
She tried to recover, but her feet slipped off the board and her body went straight to the ground. Ellie fell flat on her back with a thud that echoed through the empty park, making your eyes go wide in shock.
You rushed to her side, immediately kneeling down beside her still body.
“Oh my God, are you okay?!” your voice came out breathless, almost trembling.
Ellie blinked a few times, her gaze lost for a second. She looked slightly disoriented, as if she were trying to figure out whether she was still alive. Slowly, a weak laugh escaped her lips, and she lifted her hand to squeeze your cheek.
“I’m fine… I think,” she said, bringing her hand to her head. “I’m still standing?”
"Don’t laugh.” you muttered, already reaching for her arm to help her up. You eased Ellie into a sitting position, your hand moving gently across her back in slow, comforting circles, trying to soothe the pain, even if you weren’t sure it was working.
But in the next moment, that smirk returned to her face, barely hiding the pain. “Kiss it better?”
You rolled your eyes, ready to scold her for being so cheeky, but before you could react, Ellie took advantage of the closeness and held your face with both hands, pressing her lips against yours.
At first, the kiss was slow and delicate, filled with a reverence that stole the air from your lungs. Ellie pulled you by the waist, dragging you until you were practically sitting on her lap, pressed tightly against her body. The world around you disappeared once again, something that only ever seemed to happen when you were with Ellie. All that remained were her lips on yours, her warm breath mingling with yours, the sweet and familiar taste that made your heart burn with joy.
When you finally pulled apart, breathless, you stared at each other in silence, faces so close that any slight movement could lead to another kiss. Ellie was smiling faintly, her eyes half-lidded with adoration. The tip of her thumb traced slowly along your lower lip, as if memorizing its shape.
You shivered all over.
“Ellie…” you murmured, trying to steady yourself. “Can we do something?”
Her brow arched, curious, but she quickly whispered, still panting. “Yeah, anything.”
“You promised me a dance, remember? At prom… we never got to go together. So…”
Ellie’s mouth dropped open in shock, as if she couldn’t believe what you had just said. Then she laughed, teasing. “My God. Who’s the cheesy one now?”
“Shut up,” you said, trying to hide the blush burning on your cheeks. “Just… humor me, okay?”
You pulled your phone from your pocket and played one of her favorite songs. The soft notes filled the empty skatepark, echoing beneath the faint glow of the streetlights.
Ellie chuckled but gave in, taking your hand and pulling you up from the ground. Your bodies drew close, moving together in the same slow rhythm of the music. You stumbled clumsily here and there, but neither of you cared.
Her voice came out low, almost a whisper against your ear. “You’re so beautiful.”
Your heart clenched, and when you opened your eyes to look at her, you found an expression so full of devotion that you swore you loved her a little more in that moment, even though you weren’t sure it was possible to love her more than you already did. But before you could answer, Ellie suddenly pulled away, breaking the moment.
You frowned, confused. “What—?”
She began walking backward toward the car, her eyes never leaving yours. “You look perfect… don’t move.”
The words caught you off guard, and you froze, watching her disappear quickly. In seconds, Ellie was back, now with her camera hanging from her neck, breathless from hurrying. Relief washed over you when you realized it was just another one of Ellie Williams’ improvised photo sessions.
“Okay, don’t move. I need to capture this.”
And there, under the night sky with the music still echoing faintly, Ellie began photographing you. Every detail, every expression, as if she wanted to preserve that moment forever.
One month later.
You’d just stepped out of the Uber, heart racing a little as you followed the cryptic directions Ellie had sent days ago. The invitation had been vague, borderline suspicious, but you’d come anyway. Of course you had.
After the long hours of traveling from your city to hers, all you wanted was to rest, but curiosity kept you going.
When you came face to face with the gallery entrance, everything made sense. Ellie was probably exhibiting some of her photos and wanted you to be there to see them. Your heart warmed, and all the exhaustion vanished, replaced by excitement.
Inside, the gallery buzzed with voices and movement. You scanned the crowd, searching for Ellie’s face among strangers.
But then, one photo stopped you cold.
Your breath caught. A smile tugged at your lips, disbelief blooming into laughter as your eyes welled with tears. There you were: your face and your joy captured in a massive frame that dominated the wall. You were smiling, frozen in time on the night of that date. The night you’d danced with Ellie under the dim yellow lights of the skatepark, like the world had shrunk to just the two of you.
You looked so happy, gazing into the camera as if the person behind it was your whole world. And she was.
a/n: thanks for the request 💕 @luminezsence hope you liked it ❤️
maybe it's something where the reader going shopping with Abby and going to all different stores and it's wholesome and it's all cute, but maybe takes a spicy turn where they end up making out in a dressing room (or more... 😳 totally up to you!)
OR
if you wanna write something about Ellie, this is kinda vague, but maybe something Ellie and reader were close, not quite girlfriends but almost there, but there was a lot of miscommunication and stuff and it turned out to be more of a “right person wrong time” kind of situation, but maybe some time passes and they see each other for the first time in a while and there’s this tension of all the things left unsaid. Idk I like the drama and I’d like for Ellie to be the one to fight for the reader’s affection LOL.
- sorry this is rlly long, and definitely don’t feel like you have to do both! I was just trying to give you the choice, and obviously you can have your own creative liberties with these prompts ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶
oh my god i loved both of these ideas 😭 i’ve already started writing ellie’s but i’m definitely saving abby’s for later!! tysm 💕💕
jbbartram-illu
areudirty
jacobvanloon
germansingergirl
titsay
izzy806
tangentwithtanner
discoholicmusic
