#abbie is a genius

[aberooski]

So I here it was the 89th show today...

[elsweetheart]

Why is nobody writing bodyguard!Abby????😭😭😭c'mon it's perfect. Brat tamer Abby and spoiled rich brat that will do anything to hear her bodyguard call her a good girl. Tamed brat will then thank her good sir.

🫠🫠🫠 pleeeeese someone

ADDING THAT TO MY LIST RIGHT THE FUCK NOW OH MY GOSH??£(7))

[kcrabb88]

Got a WIP of Gemini's cover last week and I go back to look at it every day. I'm so so so excited for it and I think it's gonna be my favorite.

[whalesfall]

this idea that they casted who they did for Abby for any reason other than casting a very thin, dainty girlie in STARK contrast to one of the few female characters in games with a larger build is so we can grapple properly with the “horror” rather than simply not wanting to cast a bigger girl for her… is hilarious. the TLOU adaption in general is such a mealy-mouthed mess in its writing & the undercurrent of zionist leanings truly takes the cake on a show that was determined to do itself “better” than the game and only made it worse. the backward character annihilation of its leads that became secondary to flimsy one-episode antagonists & slogged through the apocalypse as a POST APOCALYPSE show. the useless “motherhood” insistence for women who were not mothers, nor wanted to be. and then they cast the skinniest, shortest girl they could find for abby. come on.

[tomorrowusa]

The murder of Alexei Navalny came during a peculiar week. Putin felt like he could get away with killing off his main opponent after getting winks and nods from his Republican sycophants in the US.

Some people regard Putin as a "savvy genius". But his catastrophic three-day "special operation" in Ukraine, now about to enter Year 3, has demonstrated what s fool he is. Over 400,000 Russians have died so far in his egotistical attempt to become the 21st century version of Peter the Great.

The ramifications of Putin killing off Navalny are only beginning to be felt. It may have speeded up Europe's efforts to further arm Ukraine. Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen of Denmark is donating her country's entire stock of artillery rounds to Ukraine.

Putin may have thought that he's showing the world how strong he is by murdering Navalny. Instead he's sparked another international backlash against his régime.

We need to hold Republicans responsible for their craven backing for Putin. They are holding up aid to Ukraine on the orders of their leader and wannabe dictator Donald Trump.

[girlg3n1us]

maybe I have to write some fics but I know it will be a flop because my English vocabulary is small. I'm armenian and started to learn English last year. probably I would post some fics here if you want to see it (prepare tissues to wipe the blood from your eyes:33)

[fappellmoan]

why does every pop song (according to tiktokers) (i’ve seen this happen a total of twice i just love exaggerating) fall under either ‘you guys would eat this up if it were muna’ or ‘you only like this because muna did it’ girl maybe muna is just good then chillax

[priestfrommidnightmass]

the nobel prize needs to go to the person who wrote the article about Shows you might like if you liked girls and included broad city because holy shit this show is genius

[lifewithaview]

Jim Parsons and Kunal Nayyar in The Big Bang Theory (2007) The Psychic Vortex

S3E12

With Leonard and Howard going on a double date, Raj talks a reluctant Sheldon into attending a mixer at the university. Surprisingly, Raj and Sheldon end up meeting and having a good time with two beautiful, fun loving women named Abby and Martha. Raj and Sheldon have vastly differing opinions on what they want to get out of a second date that Abby and Martha want with them. Meanwhile, Leonard reconsiders his relationship with Penny when he learns that she believes in psychics. Penny reconsiders her relationship with Leonard after he mocks her belief in psychics. One of the two is going to have to compromise their steadfast belief if their relationship is to continue.

*The characters of Abby and Martha are actually a tribute to Joseph Kesselring's Arsenic and Old Lace (1944). Abby and Martha are the names of the homicidal spinster aunts.

[aberooski]

Guys.

I think I thought of a way to sneak Nightshroud into the Mario crossover 👀

[tthoroughfare]

crush // abby anderson

*･゜ﾟ･* summary: abby is like can u read my mind? i've been watching u! couldn't fight to save ur life, but you look so cool!!! just me rambling about making abby realize she's not straight

*･゜ﾟ･* pairing: canon!abby x reader

*･゜ﾟ･* content: sfw! you two dancing around each other for now. abby being nervous and cute.

*･゜ﾟ･* length: 1.3k

this is part one and i've already written the majority of the rest. just thought this was a good way to break it up :)

recently i am thinking A Lot about the concept of being the girl that makes abby realize she’s not straight ,,, and the first girl she’s ever with

the idea of her being all fumbly and nervous and you having to take the lead. it’s just good

i also love the idea of being very different to her. you’re not a soldier like her, maybe you do something technical and sciencey. you get moved to the base and become friends, and people are just like… kinda surprised that you’re so close, so fast? on paper, you don’t seem to have that much in common but it just works. she likes that you’re different to her, it’s refreshing

you’d already heard a lot about her before you moved. you told her that not long into being friends with her, to which she’d scoffed a little, toying with her fingers. you were in the canteen, the two of you sitting opposite each other on the end of the table, leaving a gap between the rest of the group.

“good or bad?”

“good,” you’d chuckled, taking a bite of your lunch.

she paused, flitting her gaze away as you held eye contact, chewing slowly. “gonna elaborate?”

the corners of your mouth quirked as you swallowed. “just that you’re… pretty impressive. good at what you do. slightly intimidating.”

she scoffed again, eyebrows twitching. “i’m not… do you think i’m… you think that?”

“…impressive or intimidating?”

“either.”

you’d looked downwards, pausing before meeting her eyes with a teasing smile on your face. “you’re very tall.”

she didn’t tell you this at the time, but she’d heard things about you, too. she hadn’t paid it much mind at the time, but there had been a couple of mentions of a scientist girl moving in to help out with a new assignment full time, and that she was, ‘like, a genius’

also, manny had said something to her along the lines of ‘apparently she’s hot’, while raising his eyebrows with a cheeky smirk

she’d just rolled her eyes

but then she meets you for the first time, and okay. he wasn’t wrong

it’s only a chaste introduction as you cross paths one day, but she has to make a real effort to keep her cool. she doesn’t understand it, she’s just affected by you, just has to know you

and then she does know you, and she still wants to know you more. it’s this feeling, this drive, always wanting more more more

it sends her crazy. the fact it takes her so long to realize she has a crush on you makes her look back and laugh at her own naivety

she finds out you’re gay maybe a month into being friends with you, when you’re hanging out with her at the library. she never gave much thought to the fact you seemed to follow her around, spend nearly all your spare time with her. she figured it was just because you didn’t know anyone else that well yet.

she’s quietly reading on one side of the couch, while you try your best to get some work done on the other, papers strewn over the coffee table in front. it’s difficult to concentrate, though, even though you’re fully aware how inundated you are. one of her legs is slung up on the couch, bent at the knee, and you’re so conscious of the proximity.

after a good while of trying and failing to get anywhere, you look up at her and lean in a little. “hey, abby?”

she looks up from her book, acknowledging you.

“i’m bored.”

she chuckles as she sits up, closing the pages around her middle finger to keep her place. “c’mon, we need you to… save the world.”

you let out a small, fond scoff, putting your notebook and pen down on the coffee table. “that’s really… not what i do. appreciate the delusion of grandeur you’ve just given me, though.”

she watches you with a smile, not meeting your eyes as you sit back on the couch, shuffling around to face her. “so…” you begin.

“so…?” she parrots, raising her eyebrows slightly.

“what went on between you and owen?”

she’s a little shocked at your bluntness, laughing nervously and shifting in her seat. as far as she was aware, you didn’t even know anything about that. “what?”

you pull a face. “come on, i’m not stupid. i notice things.”

in truth, you’re using the question as a trojan horse to figure out if she likes women. you are genuinely curious, though, and right now the conversation sounds a hell of a lot better than doing what you’re actually supposed to be.

she pauses, eyes flitting around the room. “uh… we were together for a while. and now we’re not.”

you nod slowly, waiting for an elaboration that never comes. “that’s it?”

abby shrugs awkwardly, and you feel a little bad for pushing, holding your hands up. “sorry, sorry. i don’t mean to pry.”

“s’okay.” she messes with the novel, eyes trained on it as she runs the pad of her index over the closed pages. “what about you? you got a boyfriend?”

“i, uh… i was with someone. it didn’t work out.”

she hums in sympathy. “he a scientist, too?”

“she’s a medic.”

abby freezes, looking up at you, mouth falling open slightly. she feels stupid for assuming. “oh, shit, sorry. i didn’t realize you were — sorry. not that there’s anything wrong with that.” she mentally kicks herself for the last statement. of course there isn’t. she doesn’t even know why she said it.

you laugh, amused by her babbling and the way the tops of her cheeks turn pink. “you’re good, you’re good.”

she lets out a final, ‘sorry’, gaze darting from you, to her book, to the shelf on your right. then, she looks back at you, feeling the need to break the slightly uncomfortable silence that had fallen. “anyway… her loss.”

you chuckle. “owen’s loss. who needs ‘em?”

“who needs ‘em?” she repeats, breathing out a laugh.

after the revelation, something shifts for abby. she doesn’t know why, but finding out that you like women makes her feel… different (?) about you

not in a bad way. just different

she’d always looked at you and thought you were beautiful. possibly more beautiful than any girl she’d ever seen

and she knew she was nervous around you; she was normally pretty outgoing and didn’t really have an issue talking to anyone. but when it came to you she’d overthink every sentence, words getting caught in her throat. she just felt such a need to impress you, wanted to say and do everything right

she just thought that she really, really wanted to be friends with you. that she thought you were cool, and admirable, and funny, and smart, and liked being around you

but finding out that you’re gay just makes her… think. on a whole other level she’d never really looked into

knowing that you could, maybe, maybe, be a viable option sends her mind reeling with a whole host of confusing thoughts more than she’d like to admit

she’d never really put much thought into her sexuality. she’d always just assumed she was straight. sure, she’d looked at women before, gotten a little flustered around pretty girls, but just guessed everyone did

but when it was you… like. you… it was a whole other ballgame

and then, over a few months, she starts thinking about silly things like how it would feel to touch you — really touch you, not just the friendly brushes you already shared. how soft you’d feel, how it would be to have her fingers threaded through your hair

then she starts thinking about if she’d maybe want to kiss you

she decides she’s not against the idea

[r3starttt]

HELL IS A TEENAGE GIRL

PAIRING: Jennifer's body (Abby Anderson x reader)

CW: blood. murdering-killing. vomit. sub! abby. oral. Owen!!!!!

AN: this goes for my beautiful amazing talented gorgeous @clairoscharm . Ieally hope u like at least the beggining and I'm sorry for making it SO rushed!!! u deserve better

TAGLIST | KINKTOBER: @s4pphic-myth @levilvrr @girlkisser168 @bilsvlt @tlouloser @marsworlddd @softlikesilk-chiffon @grey-jedi12 @slut4ellienabby @roos4lm4 @elliezlils11utt @1-800-fantasy @ellieswifee232 @roos4lm4 @rob1nbuckl3ys @abbys-muscles @0court @dinakisser @lott6i @imagoddess1 @viajeros--sin--destino | ABBY: @imdrowningindispair @rkivedpages @aouiaa @grey-jedi12 @bruhhtsukjf @twopeoplee @wastdstime @softlikesilk-chiffon @grey-jedi12 @slut4ellienabby @0court

People always found it a bit of a joke that a girl like you—pretty, effortlessly charming, and so untouchable—would hang around with someone like Abby Anderson. The class nerd. The lesbian with a mile-long case of compulsory heterosexuality and a fake boyfriend. Everyone knew he was just there to shield her from the obvious: the way her eyes lit up like a puppy every time she saw you cheering.

They didn’t understand what you saw in her, how her soft sweaters would end up around your shoulders when your mom forgot to pick you up in the raniest day of sixth grade, or how her glasses would fog up every time you hugged her just a little too long.

They also didn’t remember that day in fourth grade when you were playing boyfriend and girlfriend—naturally, she was your girl—and she punched a boy who interrupted your first kiss just to mock you both. His mom was more furious about the kiss than his kid falling down the slide.

She would always be your girl. And you would always be hers, or so you've dreamed of.

Everything really began with that stupid cross scrawled across the back of your hand, a sort of ticket to a "club" full of sleazy mustache-twirling creeps and horny teenage boys. You were in it for the experience, of course. Abby, ever loyal, tagged along as usual.

The night started with you picking her up from another one of her fake boyfriend's dates. Fifth time that week. You never liked Owen. He was basic—worn-out jeans, some boring neutral colored shirt—and he couldn’t wait to ditch his belt the moment he stepped foot in Abby’s meticulously organized, nerdy little room. He didn't care about her classical music or her favorite bands posters or her books or her theories or her love for anything.

But you did.

You knew boys; Abby didn’t.

And every time you saw him with her, something in you twisted with jealousy—he wanted her, and he got her too easily.

Abby was something with plenty potential, naturally smart- a genius to your eyes. She had good grades, good money, a surgeon as a dad who was single and overworked himself- like father, like daughter. She folded her clothes neatly and organized them by color, she chose what she would wear a day before, she would have a schedule for everything- you always present. Her hair down made her prettier than that gentle braid she'd wear every day, and whenever she did her lashes and added that extra gloss, her face looked so pretty, and her glasses were that perfect extra she needed to be perfect for your eyes.

And then there was this boy, horny and getting a boner just by the sight of Abby's bra. You despised Abby for allowing such lame boy into her perfect life.

That night, though, it was you who had your eyes on someone else—a band, well, a man. Not for the music, but for the thrill. Older guys, somewhat famous, the kind that would treat you like you were stupid.

And the idea of it had your heart racing.

Hormones, maybe. The chance to see if anyone could ever make you feel the way Abby did. But with a dick and the creepy beard- like Abby called it.

She warned you not to, you just didn’t listen but laughed, batting your lashes, your glossy lips flashing in that ridiculous puffy white jacket.

You were invincible, right?

Wrong.

It all spiraled faster than you could process. The screaming, the snapping bones, the music turning into something warped and twisted. The man—one of those rockstars you thought would show you a good time—stared at you, as if he was just as shocked by what was happening as you were.

You stood there, frozen, as if it was all some bad dream.

Then, suddenly, you were outside, Abby’s hands gripping your waist, trying to lead you away as your broken heels gave out beneath you. You felt like you were burning from the inside, your mind fuzzy from the bartender’s “gift”—a drink served with a wink after you'd playfully pressed your arms against your breasts, just a little- enough to show them off for a pretty girl discount.

You collapsed, feeling stupid and weak, like you were drugged. Abby’s warm hands pressed against your face, and her lips repeated something that must've been your name, but before you could focus on her, you heard that man’s voice—the same man you’d dreamt about for maybe a day or two—crooning, “Let’s go to my van.”

Abby’s "no" cut through the haze, repeated over and over. But it didn’t matter. He shoved another drink into your mouth, the liquid spilling over your glossy lips, staining the glass. Abby’s glasses caught the reflection of the chaos behind you, the carnage inside, but no one seemed to notice.

Then you were in his van. Skinny, twisted, looking like something straight out of a nightmare. To Abby, you were gone—like a corpse. He dragged you in with a grip too tight on your waist, and just like that, the door slammed shut.

By the time they were halfway there, you were eerily quiet. Your glossy eyes mirrored the messy streaks of lip gloss now smeared up your cheeks, the result of tears and desperation. The skin around your nails was raw and bleeding, torn from how furiously you’d been scratching at yourself, trying to ground your fear.

"Are you guys like... rapists or something?" Your voice came out small, weak. You were just a girl, after all. You’d never expected a bunch of men to kidnap you, let alone drag you somewhere far away. But if you were about to die, you’d rather it be with Abby.

One of them scoffed, turning in his seat to mutter to the driver. "God, man, I hate girls." The guy riding shotgun glanced back at you, his face almost as pale as yours. He looked scared—like he hadn’t signed up for this. "Are you even sure she’s a virgin?" he asked, nervousness creeping into his voice.

The driver shot him a glare. "Yes, I’m sure, I don’t—"

"I’ve never—" you blurted out, your voice cracking as you struggled to hold back sobs. "You should, uh... find someone who knows what they’re doing. Someone who’s good at it." Your words were stumbling over themselves, trying to buy time, to make them think twice. After all those boys and awkward make-out sessions, you’d never gone further. It scared you. And deep down, you’d always hoped the first time would be with someone who mattered—someone with pretty lashes like Abby, eyes like Abby, a body like hers, a voice like hers. You dreamed about it being her.

"See? Told you she’s a virgin. Y’all owe me a beer," the driver said smugly, ignoring the panic in your voice.

They kept shoving beers at you, forcing you to drink. Soon, everything started to blur—the dark van, the Satanic symbols plastered on the walls, the smell of cheap booze and cigarettes. Your mind drifted as they dragged you out, the cold night air biting at your skin. You recognized the place. The falls—the very place that gave your town its name. Were you really going to die here?

"We gather tonight to sacrifice the body of..." One of the men started speaking, his voice dripping with dark ritualistic glee. You barely heard him over your own muffled screams. The ropes they’d tied around you were crude, hastily knotted, biting into your skin.

You fought hard, thrashing against the bonds, trying to kick at them. Your thighs were burning, knees scraped raw as they shoved you forward. Your heels had long since fallen off, lost somewhere in the dirt.

"Oh my god, shut the fuck up," the man you thought was your dream sneered. The same man you’d been stupid enough to trust just hours ago. He grabbed your face roughly, forcing you to look at him. "Maybe we’ll write a song about you," he teased, pressing a mocking kiss to your forehead before shoving you toward the edge of the falls. The roar of the water was deafening, mist from the cascade sparkling in the air around them. Everything about it was twisted, surreal.

"With the deepest malice, we deliver this virgin sacrifice..." The knife came next. Cold, sharp, unforgiving. It tore through you over and over, ice and fire mingling in your veins. You couldn’t make sense of the pain—sometimes it burned, sometimes it was numb, like your body was trying to shut down. You wanted to rip your heart out just to make it stop. The agony tore your screams from your throat, desperate cries for them to stop.

Was Abby okay?

-

Owen's words were right that night. Who could care about you and those assholes with they stupid looks and voices and music when people just got burned alive.

But for Abby it was just a stupid jealous rambling. He didn't like you, his argument? You're a bad influence for her, telling her to prioritize girls night instead of him, or teaching her to put on more makeup for their dates which he had to pretend to notice. Because you made her laugh louder than anyone else and she would get called out during classes. Because you brought the best from her, a best he couldn’t.

"No, no. I'm telling you- Owen! fuck! listen, please-" any other argument she was trying to make it have sense for his boyfriend completely shushed on her brain as a loudness interrupted behind her. It was something falling- maybe someone. Steps and a quiet growl what she could manage to understand in the few seconds she was given to turn around and press the phone against her chest.

You were covered in blood, your pretty pink tights broken. Heels not even on. That pretty white on your jacket covered by a worrying amount of blood, ripped. Teeth tainted in blood and dark eyes. Your pretty make up ruined, mascara as if you'd cried and those glossy lips she adored to feel on her cheek each day you greeted her first thing morning now blurred and melt into a disgusting mix of drool and blood.

Owen's voice long forgotten as you were there. She spoke your name many times, you simply got on your knees, opening her fridge and getting out a random fried chicken her dad had bought. It smelled putrid but you could not care any less.

Her shaky hands cleaned her tears off, adjusting her glasses as she kneeled on your side, patting your back.

You shouted at her, an inhuman sound leaving your mouth followed by dark vomit. It was like a weird heavy oil.

She didn't understand that day but you did.

Your last time alive was for and to her, trying to escape into the safe of her home and her arms but unable to as you were far gone and replaced by a weird entity. A sickness.

She ran away, thinking on who to call or what to do. You knew she wouldn't but the thing inside you didn't.

Abby Anderson wouldn't acuse you to the police or try to escape or do anything at all that could hurt you or put you in any danger, she just wanted to help you.

Your force was scary, stupid against her.

You pinned her against the wall, her lower back hitting the furniture on her entrance and your hand breaking the glass of her pretty picture from earlier that grade. Your hands bleeding more and more and her pretty clothes earlier chosen just for you to see and admire now drenched in your same blood and dirt.

"Are you scared?" You pressed your lips against her neck, your breath hovering intense against her flesh. She was trembling, crying. You felt the nod on her face and just there your dirty nails cradled her face. You just looked at her, a lost look on both of your faces. The salt of her tears burned on your skin, but no inch of skin flinched.

She tried to call your name but you just leaned forward again, biting at the little necklace on her neck with her initial into a pretty gold. Abby sobbed- Your Abigail, the strongest person you've met was heart broken, and terrified.

Her skin was salty and her perfume was comforting, it almost made you bite. But you didn't, you stepped back and freeing her face, you pressed a gentle kiss on her lips. She hated blood, but she took it.

And just like that she spent all night with sobbing eyes and fogged glasses. Her nails dirty in whatever dark vomit you've displayed on her floor.

-

"Abigail" your acute usual morning greeting made her blink for once this morning. Her usual perfect lips now chapped. She felt your bracelets hit around her neck before your gloss spread on her cheeks. "You're alright." she mumbled.

"yeah...? why wouldn't I be." Your eyes rolled as you put the small notebook and a pen over the shared bench. "Yesterday at my house-"

"Oh my god! Abby you overreact all the time- Remember you thought there was an earthquake and it was just those fat kids playing?" you giggled, the loud of your voice no longer shushed by her as she was in pure shock. "People died, it's national news."

"Anyone we know?" The lip gloss glisthened against your lips as you put more of it, your lashes pointing at her eyes while starting at her lips. "We know everyone." Her tone obvious.

"Sucks to be them, I guess." You shrugged, about to lay your open arms and take full space before her hands hold you in place. "What is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with you, besides the obvious need of a fucking mani, bad." The edges of your eyebrows fought to turn into a frown, curving slightly at the edge of your nose. "I don't know maybe that I had to be all night scrubbing the...carnage off the linoleum-" your voices overlapped. "God don't talk like that it's... one of the most freaky Abby behaviors."

She showed you her hands, the under of her nails in a disgusting black, it made you want to throw up. "No- don't show your hands- stop." You shoved them down, the cool of your skin making her frown. "It makes us look both like total Gaylords."

-

Your lips were drenched in blood. She was sweet, with her freckled cheeks and the short bun on her now masy hair. She whined so pretty and so far she'd been the only one to try and fight back. Her nails scratched on your back and neck and arms, almost made it to hurt your eye too. Maybe if she hadn't done that your teeth wouldn't have pierced on her skin like they did.

Your grip left bruises on her skin. A gutural groan- half a moan while you uncovered her tits to hold her nipples between your fingers.

"Good girl" you whispered, holding her still.

If Abby could se who's organs you had on your mouth right now, she would turn into dust in a matter of seconds. Her girl, her all life best friend, had her mouth filled with blood and fresh organs that belonged to the girl you've made fun of together your whole life. Ellie Williams, the quiet girl you mocked with Abby by calling her all kinds of names because she had a smartness you didn't and you envied, she had the girls you couldn't, she was Abby’s first friend and most likely first love- she never realized. And you envied all of it, so, instead of getting over it you're digging into her open stomach, drenching your hands and clothes and mouth with her blood and her flesh. All of her is delicious, really- well, all except her tattooed arm. That's putrid.

The empty house you've found yourself in suddenly felt quiet as you could finally free yourself from her gripp. Her short nails had left a small bruise around your pale wrists until the pain became too blinding and the blood wasn't enough to keep her alive.

Cigarettes, lighter, some old ticket on her left pocket. Some dollars on the right one.

Nothing worth keeping from her. Truly.

Just the gain of your youth again.

"I'm feeling scrumptious-" The lighter fired small sparks way too close to your face. The taste of blood eventually disappearing from your tongue, fading withing each gulp of your salivating mouth. "Oh okay! cool im-" Abby tried to speak from the other side of the line. Her voice cutting through the not so long distance between. "You know when you kiss a boy and your whole body feels on vibrate?" the lighter in your hand with a small initial drawn with permanent pen caught your attention, almost making it sound like your words had lost trail. Abby frowned, laying her stomach on the bed as she held her weight over her elbows to speak a proper "yeah" just loud enough for you to hear. "Me- uhm, I'm still a little bit depressed about the giant smoldering funeral pyre in the middle of town-" yet you interrupted again.

"Move on Abby, it's over- And...you should be truly caring about your best friend who's having the best days ever since like Jesus invented the calendar." You finally stood up, hitting the cold of Ellie's leg just to make sure she was properly gone- as if all the blood you've sucked from her and all the flesh you've filled yourself with could somehow be meaningless and not enough to end with her.

"He didn't." Abby didn't even tried to explain it to you. It would be a waste of time and for once in her life she was feeling like hanging the call and leaving your bimbo brain to manage itself. "Well whatever. I'm like... a god- what's got you busy from paying all your attention to me? mhm?" you practically groaned at the absence of her response. "Gotta go, Owen wants to see me."

You pressed the fire right against your tongue. As if all the mad in you felt comfort by the pain. "You know... he's looking kinda cute to me lately, with his stupid t shirts and that-"

"Yeah, whatever, bye."

Your tongue burned.

-

"No offense but you look really tired." Abby put her black backpack over one of her shoulders, struggling to get the other side over her arm. You, you took your small purse and empty notebook and hid yourself under the violet hoodie- A hoodie that covered almost your knees if you tried to. Unlike you. really. "Wat's wrong?"

"I feel like boo-boo. My skin is breaking out, my hair is dull and lifeless. God... it's like I'm you."

Part of it comforted Abby, knowing you still had energy left for your humor to be this passive aggressive and your love to be this mean.

"Are you PMS-ing?-" you stopped before her, eyeing the pretty pink on her clothes up and down. She'd took the advice you gave her a few weeks ago on how to drees more for your liking. But, what the fuck was she speaking right now.

"Abby, that's not real. It was invented by the men to make women look crazy and you should know better."

"Oh I should know better? fuck off."

It was killing you, not having her near. She was afraid of you. You thought it was selfish. No matter how ugly your skin was and how much your stomach could kill you of hunger you couldn't get yourself to hurt her, yet she seemed beyond terrified of you. She was even mad at you.

It was killing you to see her with him. She wasn't good enough for him and he wasn't good enough for her.

"Hey, Abby. I'm sorry" you practically whined, holding her hand and locking your fingers with hers. She was mad at you, for, twice this year. That's a lot.

"Can I go home with you?"

-

"God! Abby stop with the screaming you're such a cliché-" The initials of your last victim shining beneath the gentle orange light of her room. The lighter on Abby's hands. "I won't bite you..." The whisper almost hit her skin as you crawled closer to her, your knees sinking in the matress. "Why are you wearing that..." she eyed the overworn hoodie hugging your body. "Though you'd like it..." Your nails tugged at the edges of her sweater, showing the bare shoulders beneath her white tank top.

She looked horrified- and more than breaking your heart, it made you pussy starved. Maybe this is why boys were an easy target.

You cradled her face between your heating hands, caressing her cheekbones under her glasses until they fogged. You chuckled at it before taking them off.

Her heartbeat could be felt on your own body, as if you'd already made her yours- She'd always been. "Come here..." you would expect a flinch, a push, a slap. Not her saliva meeting yours, the fat of her lip between yours until it goes the other way and she's got you in between.

It makes you wet, really. How her shoulder stiffen and her posture straightens until it doesn't and she leans to kiss you and savor you back.

She feels ridiculously soft and the little clothes she wears are beyond inviting. But there's nothing you'll push on her, not a boundary you'll ignore. She's the most tender flesh you've had, the most loud pump of blood you've sensed and the prettiest salty your tongue has feasted on. She's your girl, your Abby.

And she's whining at the little kisses you give her.

Abby Anderson, the girl you've craved for your whole life more than anything is now under your mercy, for you to take and enjoy as you please- well, almost.

You lay back again, meeting her no longer maddening eyes but soft brows and the locks of hair adorning her braid, resting over her shoulder.

You lock your fingers with them, undoing her smooth blonde between your hands. And Abby just stares in awe.

Just a few seconds ago she was about to cry at the confirmation that she'd lost you and now she wanted nothing else than to play girlfriend and boyfriend again and have you between her legs to fo the job Owen had failed miserable at.

And so she did, straddling your legs and sinking your bodies on the matress. Her lips eating yours eagerly, like she'd craved you just as much as you did. And you were so warm, scary comforting.

Your hands slid under her white top, covered by her sweater. The tip of your nails scratching the middle of her back until you got to her bra.

"What the fuck is happening." Her voice became loud, too acute for her own good.

The little heart with the BFF craved on it hit your chin, forcing your eyes to open and then your back to drag you and sit in front of her.

"My god, Abby. I've never heard you drop the F-bomb before." She stumbled over her words, trying to make it all have sense. The lighter on her hands again and suddenly being tossed for you to own it again. Your little award. "Slow down tardy slip, you sound like a sped." You imitated her stuttering, brushing some of your hair off your face.

"I'm gonna call the police." She threatened, but you just laughed it off, cupping her cheeks to deepen your tongue between her lips.

She didn't hesitate on following your lead. She never did.

It's fervent and sloppy and wet. And you have drool over your chin, you're truly rabid.

Her ass gets cupped by your hands, and she whines against your lips, taking her clothes off for you. Her bra reveals the perky nipples beneath and you direct your mouth to them, brushing the straps down her shoulders to get a proper taste.

"Let me hear you... yeah, like that." it makes you wet how obedient she is. How soft her nipple feels between your lips, It's delicious. "I love you Abby." Your arousal grows at how her hear stops, how her face genuinely lightens again for you.

"Lay down, come on." You guide her with soft murmurs and praise, a touch so gentle it could never be fair for Owen if he ever tried to feel her again.

Your hands traveled to the back of her legs, pressing a soft kiss on each before putting them over your shoulders. Her jeans unzipped before you got rid of her underwear, and sinking in between her legs not Inmediatelly- but after you took a proper look of her wet slit and your breath hovered.

Your mouth leaves kisses over her puffy clit, fingers sissoring her soaked folds. You could come just by how pretty she sounds for you. How she held onto you and trust her body to you.

In exchange its only fair to savour every inch of her. Licking, sucking, kissing her arousal. Teasing it with the tip of your fingers and tongue before actually thrusting inside her.

And you lose yourself in her, sucking at her clit- moaning against it at how fucking delicious she tastes. Her legs are so soft, and her happy trail is as pretty as the under. Her tits show enough for you to remember forever and her hands are constantly looking to hold onto you, to lock her fingers between your head into a tender grip that you have to guide into harsh and rough.

You can see her fogged glasses. Her once perfect hair a mess all over her back, pressed against her pretty skin covered in sweat. Your name falls from her plump lips as pleads. Over and over again- too overwhelmed with your pretty voice, your hands on her- she just whines, searching for friction, rubbing desperately against your sloppy tongue licking over her pretty pussy.

-

Abby never said I love you back

-

"Hey, sorry I- I need to talk to you about you know who?"

It had been months after that. Currently October 31, way too cold to still be months away from December.

Abby never said I love you back, and that's all you cared about. Not all the deaths that had been your fault, not the sex, not her cum dripping down your chin before you crawled to her and deepened your tongue into hers again.

And Abby, on the other hand, she didn't care about else than the stupid lighter.

Fuck Ellie, and fuck Owen, and fuck her.

"ugh, our little Abby?" The boy seemed oblivious to the whole thing. "She's been acting off lately, but it must be you..." His passive aggressive self was- "I think there's something wrong, she's been really upset since... you know, Ellie died?"

He frowned, stepping back from you just enough to eye you up and down- to look at your tits. "They were being intimate and-" he tried to stop you, but you held him in place "And, I just- I'm sorry, I care about you... so much, more than I've ever had the guts to admit...."

He stood there, quiet and still. You, held the sides of his arms and just like that he was on his knees for you.

"Abby didn't deserve a boy like you"

-

"I feel so empty-" he kissed you.

The only man beside her father to get her full heart and soul, was kissing you. He wasn't only betraying her- your Abby- he was doing it with you, the most important person in this world for her.

It happened in a matter of seconds. Your teeth sinking into his tongue, ripping it from him. It was too painful to even scream or shout or fight back. He held you, his gross hands were touching you and keeping you in place. It wasn't his strength nor your fear but the shock of the sudden disgusting feeling within you. Shame.

You throw him into the pool, your dress heavy against you. He got trapped between you and the fabric of your white stained dress and the natural heaviness of the water.

His head hit with the walls of the pool endless times until he tried to fight back for once. Abby.

-

"You were never a good friend, even when we were little you would throw your toys at me and bite me and- " you cut her off, trying to step closer. She wouldn't let you.

it broke your heart.

"And now I'm eating your boyfriend, see? at least I'm consistent." You left the floor, all the anger and pain and shame mixing into one. It wasn't you anymore but whatever those men had done to your body and your brain. Abby wasn't Abby, she was a threat.

"Why do you need him? you can have any boy you want, why him?" the next words were mumbles until she pronounced insecure. Insecure.

You didn't reply, not a single word leaving your lips until you managed to make your way into her.

"I'm not insecure Abby, how could I?"

You tried to contain, you really did. The live and adoration for her was endless, no demon, no man, no boy, no nothing could ever take that from you. It was a thing that made you, you. She was the thing, the human you loved more than anything in the whole universe.

Yet no matter what, a man would always take the place you deserved.

"I am going to eat your soul and shit it out Abigail!"

"I thought you only murdered boys"

"Oh, I go both ways."

[cowgirlcherrie]

florist! abby Headcanons ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

a/n: something quick n sweet you knowwwww got this random thought and had to write it I couldn’t resist I couldn’t. I also saw that no one done florist! abby(?) so I wanted to be the first to hop on! plus I missed writing for Abs — my baby, so enjoy ♡

warnings: 18+, MDNI, some fluff, gets smuttier halfway in, strap, blowjob (strap), eating you out, mentions of obsessive behaviors, polaroid nudes-ish, fingering, edging, public-sex-ishh, soft dom! Abby, tatted! Abby. Hinted at smoker Abby if you squint, petnames, fingers in mouth, masturbation, use of the word mommy, use of the word pussy, fem reader.

divider creds here

ೀ florist! Abby wears a basic white cropped t-shirt and black dickies under her beige apron. Her apron has a rainbow flag pin, with black pliers in one pocket. Doc Martins on her feet, tied miserably into a bow, it’s a miracle she doesn’t trip around the flower shop. She has a carabiner on her belt loop that jingles every time she walks. 

– apart from smelling like the flowers (obvi bc of where she works) smells like heavy pine and fresh soap, like forget the additives – just clean if ykyk

ೀ florist! Abby gets little patchwork tattoos in random places: a dainty lavender tattoo on her wrist, a little crescent moon behind her ear, paw prints on her bicep for her late dog Alice, a ‘gentle artist’ in bolded times new roman font – but dainty on her forearm. Her knuckles are tatted spelling out “FUCK YOU”.

ೀ florist! Abby that has a ‘Save the Bees!’ sticker on the back of her phone case. Super Bee activist.

ೀ florist! Abby who spends all day in the floral shop, playing music from her playlist on the shop’s aux, slightly swaying to the music as she works on a bouquet. She works with such prestige, god her hands work so quickly at building arrangements but the outcome is so beautiful and that’s why she has many customers. She definitely uses any leftover flowers as bookmarks for her books.

ೀ florist! Abby who’s aux will go from Lauryn Hill to Boy Genius to Mac Miller — she gets compliments on her music taste by customers all the time.

ೀ florist! Abby stops working on a bouquet when you walk into the store because of how confused you look. Wanting to save a damsel in distress. Abby moves from her place at the counter walking over to where you stood looking at the different types of flowers, creeping behind you. You smell divine to her, driving her head crazy knowing that your scent alone will be stuck in her head all day. The floral shop is a slow yet steady business, so Abby definitely doesn’t forget a face or a smell. The form-fitting dress you wore that day, the way your hands bunched at the fabric in confusion had her head spinning!

“Beautiful aren’t they?” Abby whispers from behind you,

Actually scares the living shit out of you when you see her standing behind you, but the way the sun was hitting her face from the big window panels made you less nervous. Rather in awe at the beauty in front of you. Her sunkissed skin, and silky blonde mane, were raveled in a delicate braid with wispies around her face. The raspiness from her voice – which honestly sounded like a smoker's voice now that you thought about it. 

ೀ florist! Abby who makes small talk with you while making your boquette for you (taking her slow sweet time), asking you where you’re from and what you’re doing in town? Absolutely praying that the flowers aren’t for some significant other of yours, Abby letting out an exhale when you say that they’re for your mom who you are visiting for dinner. When you mention you are unsure of what flowers to get don’t worry Abby will help you!

“So pretty girl, are you more minimalistic, talking Lilies, Gardenia’s, Jasmine – which is over there...or colorful? Which I think your beautiful self enjoys a nice Orchid, Camellia, or Begonia?”

Definitely shocks you with how well she knows her stuff

ೀ florist! Abby zones out when you are speaking and stares at your lips for far too long, looking at the way your pink gloss shines wondering how your pretty lips would look taking her strap. Percase covered in spit, from your saliva that has built up from blowing her off. Abby wanted to do nothing more than take the pretty little fabric ribbon from your hair and tie it around your hands as she went down on you while you beg her to touch you in all the right places – it was all a dream to her. Wet dreaming with you right in front of her.

Undeniably horny and touch deprived…she spends so much time in the floral shop she doesn’t have time for dating apps and finds shit like Tinder CORNY LOL. 

Meanwhile, you are trying your hardest not to stare at the way her arms are flexing or how her fingers are paying delicate attention to your bouquet, mentally laughing at the “FUCK YOU” on her knuckles, it contrasted her soft nature so much.

ೀ florist! Abby who slips in a little note into your tote back when you’re not looking, with her number on it, hoping that you would find it and call her soon, Which you do find when you are scrambling for your keys on your way back to the car. Deciding it wouldn’t hurt to give the overly, steaming attractive florist a call. 

ೀ florist! Abby when the two of you start dating, she would teach you how to make a bouquet, standing closely behind you – her body right up against your back as you feel her breath tickling your ear as she whispers to you what to do

“Atta girl, look at that my sweet girl – woah! watch your hand there’s a thorn baby.”

Will definitely put her hands over yours as she works with the knife to make sure there isn’t any thorns so you don’t prick yourself. 

ೀ florist! Abby fucking you in the flower shop, when the shop is closed. Having her head in between your thighs, as her jaw slacks – the sound of your juices sloshing against her mouth as she sends hums into your pussy making you let out low mewls. Bringing a hand up to cover your mouth but she slaps it away so that she can see you

“Don’t hide from me baby, I wanna see you…look at how beautiful you look whining for me doll”

ೀ florist! Abby who kept your lace underwear in her pocket after she fucked you in the floral shop keeping it for safe-keeping (pft…we all know what she is doing with that)

ೀ florist! Abby who shows you her small pocket-sized notebook full of different flowers and arrangement ideas she had. Even the sketches of a flower bouquet that she made inspired by you and all your favorite flowers.

ೀ florist! Abby definitely tucks flowers behind your ears, specifically a white or light-pink Carnation. Especially loves putting one behind your ear as she fucks you with her strap, missionary style so she can see your face – just loves your face honestly. Bending down to kiss your lips, her cheeks dusted red with the pressure she applies.

Tucking her head into your neck swiftly smelling the carnation that she put behind your ear driving her even further insane as she drills into you — makes her go faster.

ೀ When she starts teaching you more about flowers, Definitely uses sexual enforcement to get you to remember it. Will have you sat on her counter as she stands in between your legs – locking you in as she lunges two fingers into you, edging you and not letting you cum until you say the right name of the flower that she taught you. But you could hardly focus staring at her inked knuckles as they pump in and out of you which only makes you reach your climax even further. 

“You wanna come don’t you my sweet girl? I know you want to…just say the name– awh don’t whine at me…I know you know it dollface, I don’t buy that you don’t.”

Sometimes she’ll give you a hint if the flower starts with one of the letters on her knuckles she will stick the corresponding finger into you, working at getting you just about there as her finger curls into you. Your vision is blurry as you can hardly tell what the letter is, moaning out as you try to focus on the order of the letters on her knuckles to catch the hint.

“C’mon baby I’m giving you a hint…pay attention sweetheart– focus!”

ೀ florist! Abby when you get it wrong and she finally lets you come — is fake-mad at you, shoving the lettered finger down your throat as you gag on her fingers covered in your juices.

“Baby the hinted letter was C, and the other finger was U, flower: Curcuma. You’ll get it right next time right sweetheart? You won’t let mommy down hmm?”

ೀ florist! Abby is definitely a soft dom just saying… soft as hell, loves when you hold her – kiss her, and skin-to-skin contact is important as hell she just wants to feel you and loves when you baby her. 

ೀ Definitely keeps a Polaroid of you holding flowers in pink floral lingerie in her beige apron and another one of you in her wallet, that way she has you on her at all times (honestly probably touched herself to blow off some steam after a hard shift while looking at it)

ೀ Depending on how far the relationship goes, especially if y’all start talking marriage will get your favorite flower tatted and not tell you until you see a dainty tattoo of your favorite flower on her collarbone slightly above her heart as she is filling you up, you questioning her in between moans about it.

“Mmhm…fuck is that new? Shit..abbyplease – wait is that my favorite flower?” You ask, as she grinds into you – your finger dragging against the tattoo

“Yes baby, you’re all mine. Mine…mine…mine” As she pounds harder into to you each time she says mine. Obsessive, possessive + territorial, let’s talk about it 

ೀ florist! Abby is overall just a sweetheart who loves you so much and just wants you to be her pretty flower – her muse, you definitely inspire most of her bouquets and she is so happy you ran into her shop looking for flowers that day.

[planetallure]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ fic recs

CW: these works contain explicit content intended for those 18+. make sure to read the rules of the writers before interacting.

@peterthepark : coming back to this blog made me realize when exactly i started back reading fanfic fr. the moment that was eddie mf munson, touched something in me. reign was one of my first intros that really stuck with me. it kinda blew my mind and scared me at the same time because i was like…how do i move on…what’s better than this??? brilliance. creative genius. like what more do you want from me? reign, i miss you. <3

i rec literally anything she’s written about eddie or tasm!peter parker.

@ohcaptains : i really don’t know what to tell you man. leah. is. HER. she simply does not miss. funny story: when i first started my old blog, it was ageless so i ended up getting blocked. so i pm’d her basically begging to come back home because i knew what i had lost. i’m not ashamed.

"dealers choice" - if you happened to miss the moment that was eddie munson or you miss his character or you were never really into him, this lil universe is for you. <3

"learning in public" - carmy x fem!reader. he needs it. he wants it. he has to have it. a man on his knees. enjoy.

"don't you dare fall in love" - heads up this one was discontinued and will not be continued (so don’t go harassing her about it) but the last part has an open ending so don’t let that stop you. college student/dealer!ellie x fem!reader. it’s beautiful and perfect. enjoy.

also ALL of her frank castle, abby anderson, tasm!peter parker fics. thank youuu

@inknopewetrust : this woman is a W R I T E R. the beautiful angsty things that come from her brain need to be cherished. thank you for your service.

“hoping i’ll find [a glimpse of us]” - when i tell you this shit was so fricking good!!!!!?! another piece of LITERATURE that i couldn’t believe i got to read for free on tumblr. i am such a sucker for a angsty slow burn and this still lives in me head rent free to this day. the tension had me giggling and laughing and biting my nail and crying. i need to spin back. i need to feel something!!

“secret” : now this one was a sexy forbidden romance. eddie’s our man who isn’t our man but is and oh m gee the angst in this one got me too, though it wasn’t as much. preppy!reader x eddie munson iykyk.

@etherealising : the absolute sweetest person i’ve met on here. every interaction i have with her just makes me smile. on TOP of that she’s a beautiful writer and storyteller. vee you have my heart.

“all i ever knew only you” - the best carmy x oc fic i’ve ever had the pleasure of reading on here. i’m so emotionally attached to this series, its characters and i think it has such re-readablity . the characterization is also so well done carmy x baby 4life. it’s currently discontinued but she is currently doing a rewrite and it’s going really well! in the meantime, please don’t let that stop you from reading the original while it’s still up. you won’t regret it.

“a buried and a burning flame” - vee single-handedly has me looking a richie different now. like…wait a minute :)) the bickering and banter is so fun. tension? check. spice?? check.

“flew like a moth to you” - a continuation of the one above. babyyyy!!! yes, yes, uh huh 🙂‍↕️ these two? LOVE EM. he’s officially in my heart.

@totheblood : star is so kind and super creative. she has created some of my favorite ellie williams smau’s on here.

"the hard way" - rockstar!ellie williams x ex-gf!reader smau. you guys are brought together again to solve the mystery that is the anonymous account blackmailing the two of you. mmm, nothing like the takedown of a shady mf to bring the girls together again :)

@cherriesxinthespring : another sweetheart with a beautiful mind. ik people get the characterization/true nature of ellie so wrong, but not rosie. she gets it.

“wasteland, baby!” - the wlw true enemies to lovers slow burn i’ve been dreaming of. tap in. right now.

@elliesbelle

“nobody compares to you” : a deliciously angsty slow burn second chance romance (ex!ellie x f!reader)

all the text convos for abby and ellie.

@newasskid : this blog makes me so nostalgic. THE first fic series that i read and rebloged when i started my first ff blog, came from this writer. i honestly feel it was my first time reading fanfic that wasn’t a silly little wattpad story or imagine and i was honestly gagged. i was like, “this…this is literature.” what can i say? i love good ass characterization! and this one was no exception.

“hard knock life” - like i said i was gagged with how good it was. i read the first two chapters back in 2022 and i still remember the feeling i felt reading them. this new blog i’m making is a fresh start for me and a chance for me to get back into old fandoms. will be revisiting this one soon.

@lovelettersfromluna

"one of your girls" - biker!ellie/roommate!ellie/camgirl!ellie x f!reader ALL rolled into to this ridiculously sexy little universe!! i love these two so much :’(

"compass" - vampire!ellie !!!! my new favorite thing. the way luna writes her feeding on reader ALONE is the most erotic and intimate thing. my god this was hot.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

sending all of this beautiful writers my love and respect y’all are amazing and so important. <3

[space-cowgirllll]

Merry Christmas, Please Don't Call

saw someone asking where the angst was and what is a sad girl like me to do but deliver.

It's late. Far too late for the phone to be ringing. 

You lie on the couch still fully dressed in an itchy sweater, plaid skirt twisted uncomfortably, and an annoying run in your tights. The pins holding your hair up feel like they're ripping strands out with every shift of your head against the throw pillow. A headache has begun to form behind your eyes and you regret being so heavy handed while making that last cocktail.

The room around you is in disarray. Empty bottles litter every flat surface in the space, half drunk glasses line the kitchen counter, and crumbled wrapping paper is strewn about the floor. Soft music plays from the stereo in the corner, your favorite Christmas CD skips a little before the  song resumes. 

You breathe a sigh a relief when the shrill noise finally stops, the person hanging up before they got your answering machine. 

It doesn't take a genius to figure out who's calling. 

Laughter bleeds through the thin walls you share with your neighbors and loud footsteps sound from the unit above yours. Music you don't normally mind worsens the intense pressure building in your skull. Your eyes screw shut, regretting not taking up your friends on their offer to spend the night at their place. It hadn't occurred to you just how hard the memories would hit finding yourself alone in the same place you'd watched your life fall apart.

Maybe it was time to look into new apartments.

Hards to believe that just last year you'd hosted friends for the first time in your new place for Christmas dinner. Running back and forth the entire night, ever the perfect hostess, making sure everyone had enough to eat and their glasses stayed full. Shooing your girlfriend away whenever she tried to help. 

It wasn't until the gift exchange at the end of the night that she pulled you into the empty spot next to her. Both of you content to watch as your friends ripped into the presents underneath the tree. Drunk and wanting nothing more than the comfort your girlfriend provided, you moved closer, cheek nuzzling into the soft material of her sweater.

You were used to the way she tensed up any time you got too close in front of other people, but it didn't make it hurt any less. There was nothing subtle about the way she pulled away, scooting further down the couch. Your teeth dug harshly into the inside of your cheek, piercing the delicate skin. The side eye she'd given you left you speechless. You fought tears all the way to the guest bathroom.

And at the end of the night, after everyone had left, the two of you sat on the couch. Neither of you made a move to start cleaning up. Abby sat at the end of the couch, her thumbs pushing into the soles of your feet, the heeled boots you'd worn tossed atop a pile of empty gift boxes. You hadn't spoken a word to her, eyes glued to the twinkling lights of your Christmas tree. The tension had quickly become too much for her to handle.

"You're mad at me." She sighed. 

"I'm not." You kicked her hands away and rolled off the couch.

"You are. I didn't mean to move away like that." Abby scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest. "And you didn't have to be so dramatic about it."

"No, you did." She watched you angrily toss things into a trash bag. Tears clouded your vision. "God forbid our closest friends think we're too close to be just roommates."

She paced the small space. "Carly works with my mom. She saw the whole thing, what if she says something? You know how she is!"

"Would that be so bad Abigail?" You kicked an empty box out of the way. Your voice small. "That people knew - that your parents knew their adult daughter is dating a woman?" 

"Yes! Just drop it!" You watched in shock as she moved to grab her jacket. "This isn't worth losing my family over."

She'd rushed out of the apartment after that. The rest of her things gone before the New Year.

The phone rings again.

Your aching muscles groan in protest as you clumsily crawl over the worn couch cushions. A trembling had reaches for the phone. For a second you wonder if it's better to just let it keep ringing. It wasn't often that you answered these calls. You bring the receiver up to your ear, lips pulling down in a frown at Abby's loud voice. She shouts into the phone, slurring your name over the loud music and laughter. 

The heavy oak table shakes with the force of you slamming the receiver back into its cradle disconnecting the call. You chuckle humorlessly into the dimly lit room. Of course she was out partying while you were still stuck digging yourself out of the mess Abigail Anderson had made of your life. The loneliness all consuming. 

Though looking back on it now, you'd been alone even when you had the blonde warming your bed every night. You'd spent three long years waiting for Abby. Accepting that your relationship would only exist within the walls of your apartment. 

And when it was over, no one was the wiser. A mutual friend mentioned she'd moved back in with her parents and was dating the son of one of her father's colleagues. Told everyone she wanted a shorter commute to the hospital. 

None of your friends knew that the girl sitting across the table from you in the bar had ripped your heart out. The two of you making awkward small talk on the odd chance either of you were dragged into conversation. Abby pretending not to notice the silent rage in your eyes anytime you caught her staring. 

You let out a frustrated groan when the phone rings for the third time. Angry tears run down your face listening to your voice on the prerecorded outgoing message, and then the loud sniffling that follows the tone. 

"I know you're home." Her voice is thick with tears. "Answer the phone again. Please."

One after the other, half assed apologies flow from her mouth. There's drunken threats of showing up at your door. The regret heavy in her voice as she wishes things had been different. It was the same as every other time she's called. You had an answering machine full of them to prove it. 

Abby hears the unmistakable click of the phone and then a quiet shuffling indicating you picked up and the cellphone almost slips from her hands. Words fail Abby as she stands on the sidewalk across from the only place that had ever felt like home. A shadow moving in the window catches her eye.

"Hi." Her lips part, an apology on the tip of her tongue when your gravelly voice fills the silence.

"Stop calling." 

Without even thinking, you rip the cord from the wall, effectively silencing her protests. Wiping at your dampened cheeks, you move towards the bedroom. 

You had come to realize that Abby deserved time to come to terms with who she was without any added pressure, but you deserved things too. You deserved more than hands dropped when you accidentally reached for hers in public. More than having no choice but to sit back and watch men flirt with her and having to bite your tongue time and time again when introduced you as just her roommate. It was time to move on.

Maybe this time you'll finally change your number.

[fappellmoan]

if we made otp a thing again but instead of one true pairing it’s ‘over the top’ and it’s a reminder of what camp must essentially be we could convince the larger tumblr population and hopefully beyond to prioritize camp and then maybe we’d have more fun and people would be literate in queer readings on society and not just ‘omg is there a gay couple in here’. you get me