#also abby is not saving this shit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

atomicami · 10 months ago

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bull ride

contractor!abby anderson x joel’s daughter!reader

- summary: you spend the night out at a bar and decide to challenge yourself on the mechanical bull to impress abby. when abby sees you from the crowd, she ends up giving you something else to take a ride on. (part 4)

- content: smut MDNI, porn with plot, no outbreak/modern au, contractor/engineer!abby, texas living, no sarah, joel and jerry are both alive, jerry is not a doctor, reader has a business degree, family & work drama, bar setting, some alcohol consumption, truck sex (bit of a quickie), fingering (a!receiving), strap usage (r!receiving), strap sucking, abby referring to the strap as her cock, basically save a horse ride a cowgirl tbh 🤠

- author’s note: hi everyone… i know i’ve been very inactive this year but this part has actually been sitting in my drafts since march so i figured i’d at least post it for the few people who’ve been waiting this long to read it, i hope y’all enjoy it

previous parts: quick fix, surprise visit, charity work

It’s been a week since the bake sale, meaning that it’s also been a week since Abby last had her hands on you.

You’d be lying if you said that this week was flying slow for you right now, because to your surprise, seven days flew by like seven minutes, and before you knew it, it was officially Saturday.

You’re sitting in your room by your dresser, fully dressed from head to toe in the finest Western apparel that you own, finishing the touches on your makeup in the mirror. You then look down at your phone for a moment, still eyeing the last text that Abby had sent you.

She invited you to go to Wild Randy’s tonight, and while you were excited to see her again, you were dreading it at the same time.

It was mainly because Wild Randy’s was the go-to place for you and Joel, and as bad as you want to sneak off with Abby again, you knew that you’d also have to make sure you wouldn’t get caught by your dad either.

You take a few deep breaths before standing up and adjusting your belt, then grabbing your phone and bag before exiting your bedroom.

“Dad! I’m ready to go!” you call out as you strut down the stairs. Given that you always take longer than him to get ready, you figured he’d be sitting on the couch waiting for you, but to your surprise, he wasn’t there.

“Dad? Where are you?” you call out for him again, entering the kitchen to find it empty as well. You roam around the house for a bit before entering the garage, seeing him still in his work clothes working on blueprints. “Dad…are you not coming?”

Joel looks up at you, frowning once he sees you ready to leave. “Oh, shit…it’s Saturday isn’t it?” he says, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I’m sorry kid, I know we go to Randy’s every Saturday but…work’s just been tyin’ me down lately.”

You nod to your dad in acknowledgment. “Well, we can skip tonight if—“

“No, no, no, s’alright,” he says, quickly cutting off your words. “You go. There’s always next weekend right?” he looks down for a moment at his workspace before looking back up at you. “Are you gonna drive yourself there or…?”

“Oh, um it’s okay Dad, I can text Dina for a ride.” you take a few steps closer to him before continuing. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” you ask him, receiving a nod from him in response.

“Okay, well…don’t stay up too late, we have to go to the hardware store next week to start getting supplies for the Mitchell home.” you remind him as you walk your way to the door.

Joel clicks his tongue at you in response. “Thanks for remindin’ me, kid. Don’t have too much fun out there, alright?”

You smile and nod back at him before leaving the garage. Even though you felt bad that your dad couldn’t come, you can’t help but feel relieved about it either. With your dad out of the way, you’d be able to get some time with Abby without the risk of getting caught by him.

You pull out your phone to send a text to Dina telling her to pick you up, and in less than ten minutes she was already honking at your door. While checking to make sure you have everything, you exit your house before locking it, walking down the porch to see Dina inside her car with the windows rolled down.

“Hey, you!” she shouts out, leaning forward over her steering wheel. “Ready for Randy’s?”

“You bet I am!” you shout back to her as you hurriedly get into the passenger side of her car and sit down.

The ride to Wild Randy’s was pretty quick, given that there’s never a rush hour on Saturdays. Aside from the twenty minutes it took Dina to find an available parking spot, the two of you were now quickly settled at the bar.

“So tell me, how’s it going with you and Abby?” Dina asks you as you both sit yourselves down on the bar stools.

Before you can respond to her, Jesse ends up cutting in from behind the bar with two beers in his hand. “Wait a second, you’ve been having a thing with Anderson?” he asks you, popping open the two bottles before handing them to you and Dina. “Didn’t you say that your dad doesn’t want you around her?”

You nod to him in response. “Yeah, and I mean I’ve been doing that for what, four, five years now? But I needed her to come over a few weeks ago to fix an outlet in my living room and it just like…happened, you know?” you explained, taking a sip from your beer.

Dina quickly gulped and set her bottle back down on the bar. “Wait a minute…is that why you were acting so weird during movie night?”

“Yeah…” you tell her with a nod, taking another sip out of your beer. “Anyways, she told me she was going to be here today so…” your words drift off as you turn your head around in search of her, and you are quick to catch her entering the bar with her group of friends. Not only that, but her father was also nowhere to be seen.

It was the first time you saw Abby like this, outside of work and not in her work clothes for once. She was wearing a pair of jeans instead of her usual cargo pants, a pair of western boots instead of her usual work ones, and her tool belt was ditched for a leather belt with a metal buckle on the center. She also had on a tight button-up that showed off her muscles, and to top it all off, a cowboy’s hat that rested over her braided blond hair.

You hate to admit it, but she was looking pretty damn good right now.

Dina suddenly snaps her fingers at you to get your attention, causing you to swivel your chair back around. “She’s there right now isn’t she?” she asks you, receiving a nod from you in response.

“Yeah, I want to go talk to her but…” your words drift off again as you turn back to see her. As you check her out, you notice from the corner of your eye some movement going on towards your left. You fully swivel your chair around this time to get a better look. It appeared to be a group of employees carrying out a large mechanical bull inside an inflatable ring, while another employee stood next to them, giving them orders on where to position the machine.

“Jesse,” you call out to him, swiveling your stool back to face him. “They’re bringing back the bull?”

Jesse looks up briefly to see the mechanical bull being set up before looking back down and pouring some contents into a cocktail shaker. “Yeah, we’ve been getting so many requests to bring it back up after our last bull broke down last year,” he explains as he continues preparing the cocktail for the customer in front of him.

You briefly look back at the bull for a moment, then look over to where Abby was. At that moment, an idea instantly sparked in your mind. What better way could there be to catch Abby’s attention than impressing her by taking a ride on the mechanical bull?

The sound of a loud microphone tap shakes you out of your thoughts, and you look over to see the bar’s owner standing in front of the bull with the microphone in his hand. “Ladies and gentlemen!” he calls out, quickly grabbing the attention of all the patrons inside the dimly lit bar. “I’m pleased to announce that we now have our brand new and improved mechanical bull back into our bar!” he announces, quickly receiving cheers and applause from the customers. “Now who in here…” he says, pointing a finger around the bar. “Is gonna be the first one to be brave enough and take her for a ride?”

You look around the bar to see several amounts of people already preparing themselves for the challenge. Part of you wanted to not do it, but a bigger part of you wanted to ride that damn bull like there was no tomorrow. You were willing to do it, just for the sake of impressing Abby. Neither of your dads were here right now, so who knows when you could get another opportunity like this? It was either now or never.

“I’ll do it!” you shout out, quickly raising your hand to get the owner’s attention.

Dina quickly grabs your hand and pulls it down to your lap. “What are you doing? Are you seriously gonna ride that thing?” she asks with concern.

You open your mouth to respond, but you’re cut off by the owner shouting at you. “You right there! Come on up here!”

You look over at the man before back at Dina. “I guess I am now,” you tell her with a shrug, hopping off of the bar stool and approaching your way towards the ring.

As you walk away from the bar, Jesse comes to Dina from behind, leaning into her side. “I’ll bet you $20 that she won’t last the full five minutes.”

You watch the owner squint to try to get a better look at you as you get closer to the inflatable ring. “Well well well, what do we have here!” he says as you make it to the ring, now standing next to him. “If it isn’t Joel Miller’s daughter herself. You think you’ll be able to handle the bull, Miss Miller?” he asks, pointing the microphone towards you.

You grab the mic from the owner and hold it closer to yourself. “Well, I guess we’ll have to see but…I think I could handle her,” you tell him with confidence before handing the mic back to him.

Numerous amounts of patrons clap and cheer you on in response. As the owner continues to speak to the audience, you step into the inflatable ring, watching as your boots sink inside. You look at your surroundings for a moment, seeing all of the customers placing their bidding money into a hat and passing it around the bar. The hat goes around past Abby as well, and you could’ve sworn she had slipped a hundred-dollar bill in there for you. Her eyes then meet with yours for a moment, and so does that stupid smirk of hers.

“Alright Miss Miller, you have five minutes up on the clock now, if you can make it to the end, you win the bidding money, got it?” the owner explains to you.

You nod at him in acknowledgment. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

You then turn back around so you’re facing the bull. You take a few steps backward as a head start, then quickly run forward and hop on top of the bull. Your hands quickly grab onto the handles, and you keep your legs wrapped around the sides of the bull. Lastly, you position your hips on the bull by pushing them forward, keeping yourself as close as possible to the saddle.

The bull was quickly activated as soon as you sat down, and so was the timer. The machine began to rock back and forth, slowly to start. Once you felt like you were getting the hang of it, that’s when the speed began to go faster. Your grip on the bull progressively gets tighter and tighter the more that the speed increases. It eventually escalated to the fullest speed, the bull now moving and spinning around like crazy. Time has never flown by slower for you than at this moment. On the inside, you were getting so dizzy to where you were going to be sick. But you couldn’t express that. Not in front of the audience. Not in front of Abby.

Regardless of it, you refused to let go. You held onto the bull like your life depended on it, waiting for the timer to count down to zero. Five minutes felt more like an eternity to you right now, but you soon start to feel relief once you hear the audience begin to count down.

Ten, nine, eight…

You lock down your grip on the bull’s handles.

Seven, six, five…

Your legs remain secure on each side of the saddle, and your hips push forward against it. As much as you were trying to hold onto the bull, you couldn’t help but imagine your hips pushing forward on Abby’s str—

Four, three, two, one!

The timer goes off, and the bull begins to slow itself down. As the machine comes to a stop, you instantly loosen your grip on it. You let out a breath of relief as you look up, watching all of the patrons cheer and applaud you. One of the employees approaches to help you, and you carefully hop off the bull before exiting the ring.

“I have to say you did phenomenal on that bull there, Miss Miller.” the owner tells you through the mic, handing you the bidding money. “Anything you wanna say to the audience?”

You take the money from his hands before taking the microphone. “Well, first of all, thank you all for bidding on me, and second…” you pause for a moment before continuing. “And I don’t mean to self-promote but…if anyone here needs any construction help…be sure to contact my dad’s company, Miller Contracting. We’re the best in all of Austin.” your eyes scan around the audience before your gaze fixes on Abby. You keep your eyes on her for a little bit, smirking at her before looking back at the audience and walking off, a last set of applause happening as you do so.

You make your way back to the spot where Jesse and Dina remain. “See? Told y’all I’d beat that thing,” you say, flaunting your bidding money in front of them. Jesse leans forward on the bar to get closer to you. “Mind if I get a cut of that?” he asks, trying to grab the money from your hand.

You move your hand away from him and shake your head. “Hell no, I won this fair and square,” you tell him, clutching the money close to your chest. “Besides, didn’t you bid against me anyway?”

Jesse scoffs, still leaning forward on the bar. “Yeah, but I still have rent to pay,” he replies before taking his weight off the bar to assist another customer.

You simply roll your eyes at him and chuckle in response as you count your money. “Don’t be so dramatic, it’s not even that much—“ your words quickly cut off once you notice something unusual on the hundred-dollar bill. You pull it out of the thin stack, seeing a note attached to it that reads:

“Meet me at the parking lot in five. —A”

You smirk to yourself upon reading the message, not even realizing that you were doing so until Dina points it out. “She wants you to go see her, doesn’t she?” she asks, crossing her arms at you.

You simply nod at her in acknowledgment. “Yeah, she does…” you reply, reaching to the bar to grab the rest of your things before saying goodbye to Jesse and Dina. Upon leaving, you look over to see Abby on the other side of the bar. You watch as she pays for her beer and leaves from the other exit. The thrill and excitement starts to consume you already in seeing her again.

The cool air hits you once you exit the bar. You roam around the parking lot in search of her until you hear a faint whistling sound from behind. You turn around to see Abby’s prominent figure from a distance leaning on the side of her truck. You don’t approach her quickly though. Instead, you take your time walking your way towards her.

“Well, well, well…if it isn’t the bull tamer herself…” Abby says, taking her weight off the truck. “You looked good up there, you know…riding that thing.”

You smirk and take a step closer to her. “I’m glad. Wanted to put on a show for you there,” you tell her quietly, and she leans in to give you a kiss, the rim of her cowboy hat slightly brushing over the top of your head as your lips briefly connect.

“You know…” she tells you quietly, slightly separating her lips from yours. “I’ve got something else that you can take a ride on for me…”

“Oh yeah?” you whisper back to her. “And what might that be?”

“Why don’t you hop in my truck and find out?”

And with that you take a step back, letting Abby unlock her truck before opening the passenger door and entering inside. Upon opening the door, you couldn’t help but notice that the windows in Abby’s truck were slightly darker than the last time you saw it…did she seriously get her windows tinted?

Abby holds the door open for you, and you quickly climb inside and hop onto her lap before she closes the door and locks it, now confining the both of you inside. Your thighs wrap themselves around Abby’s lab and you push your hips forward over her crotch, just like how you did on the bull. You could practically feel the bulge of her strap under all that denim.

Abby lets out a soft groan at the sudden friction. “How about you get it wet for me first, yeah?” she says, reaching down to the lever on the bottom part of the seat and pushing it back to give you some space on the ground.

You don’t even think twice about it, instantly dropping down to your knees and unzipping her jeans before pulling the thick black strap out of her boxers. After seeing the sight of it, you were pretty shocked. You didn’t get a good look when she fucked you last time, but now that it’s in your hands, you’re amazed that you were able to take the immense length of Abby’s strap.

Your fingers wrap around the large piece of silicone before you lean into it, lips instantly wrapping around the tip. You gently suck onto the tip for a moment, then slowly work your way down to the base of the strap. However, your mouth couldn’t last being down so deep, so you briefly pull it back up to the tip before going back down, repeatedly continuing your movements thereafter.

Abby lets out a quiet groan as she feels the base of her strap rubbing against her clit. Replacing your mouth with your hand, you look up for a moment to see her head slightly tilted back, her cowboy hat obstructing her view as well.

You keep stroking her strap with one hand, spreading your saliva all over from base to tip to distract her. As you do that, you use your other hand to gently shift the harness to the side and sneak your fingers into the crotch of her boxers, instantly finding access to her wet pussy before sliding two of them inside.

Abby notices the sudden shift of movement and looks down at you. “What the hell are you—oh fuck—“ her words get cut off with a quiet groan as you begin to curl her fingers inside of her. “Oh fuck yeah, k-keep doing that…”

You smirk back at her as you continue to pump your fingers inside her, now fully diverting your attention away from the strap for a moment. Your other hand moves to keep the harness of the strap pushed to the side while you finger Abby’s pussy, and you look up to keep an eye on her every movement—the way her hands grip the seat of the truck, the moans and whines escaping from her mouth, and how her eyes were tightly shut and the head was thrown back in pleasure. You’d be lying if you said that the way she looked right now wasn’t turning you on because you can just easily feel your arousal pooling in between your thighs as you do this to her.

“God, fucking hell—go…go faster…” Abby whines out to you, tightening her grip on the seat as she manspreads herself farther on it to give you more space. You simply nod in acknowledgment, speeding up your pace inside her in a desperate effort to get her to cum.

You can visibly see her breaths getting deeper, and you can practically feel the way her cunt began to contract around your two fingers, knowing that she was getting close. Within moments, your fingers get instantly coated with her release as she cums around them with a loud groan. Her breathing soon slows down as she recovers from her orgasm and she looks back down at you. Your gaze stays fixed on hers while you slide your fingers out of her pussy and place them into your mouth, sucking them clean while you get a taste of her release.

“My god…” Abby pants out, still trying to catch her breath. “No one’s ever made me cum that fast before…you’re good at this too, you know.”

You smirk back at her as you sit back for a moment, briefly resting your weight on the back of your boots. “Looks like you’re not the only one who’s good at making a quick fix, Anderson.” the blonde simply shakes her head at you in response before patting her hand on her lap. “Your turn now, angel. Get on up here.”

Without hesitation, you slowly lift yourself from the floor of the truck and climb onto Abby’s lap in the passenger seat, her large hands quickly roaming up and down your hips as you do so. You watch as she scrunches up your skirt around your hips and brings one of her hands down to the crotch of your underwear, smirking once she senses the wetness underneath it. “Looks like she’s pretty eager to take a ride, don’t you think?”

You nod quickly in response, and you lift yourself to hover over the strap. Abby helps you out by shifting your underwear to the side and spreading your puffy folds open. You grab the strap with one hand to align it with your entrance while you grab onto Abby’s shoulder with the other to support yourself as you go down.

The tip meets with your entrance, and you whimper at the sudden stretch. Your grip on Abby’s shoulder tightens as you try to maintain your balance over her lap. And then, little by little…you begin to sink down her strap, all the way until your folds were pressing over the base of it.

Once the entire length was inside you, you used your other hand to grab Abby’s other shoulder for balance. The feeling this time was a little more difficult to handle in comparison to how Abby had fucked you at the bake sale. You weren’t bent over, nor did you have the support of the counter either. You were completely sat upright, in the confined passenger seat of Abby’s truck, with her strap so far inside you that she could visibly see the tip poking out of your lower stomach. It sure felt overwhelming, to say the least.

“Fuck…you look good for me like this…” she mutters out quietly as she runs her thumbs down your stomach, gently pressing onto the bulge that was being formed from her strap. She watches as you continue to stay upright, now squirming in her grasp as a response to the pressure she was giving to your stomach. “You know…it’s not gonna feel any better if you don’t move.” she continues, now bringing one hand further down to rub your clit. “Take a ride on it, princess…It’ll feel good once you start moving.”

Your eyes flicker down to the watch that was wrapped around Abby’s left wrist. You glance at the time.

10:39…10:40.

You take a deep breath and tighten your grip on Abby’s broad shoulders. As her hands remain planted on your body, you begin to lift yourself up before going straight back down. You repeat the process, now developing a slow pace on her strap.

Abby smirks as she looks up at you, watching every moan and whimper escape from your lips as you fuck yourself on her cock. “There we go, that’s it…atta girl…” her praises and coos continue, now leading you to move at a faster pace. As you begin to ride her faster, Abby notices how close your head is getting to the ceiling of her truck every time you go up. While keeping one hand planted on you, she quickly takes off her cowboy hat and places it on your head, fixing up the rim so she can still see you. “Prettiest cowgirl I’ve ever seen,” she mutters out quietly, placing her hand back onto your hip as you keep riding her.

As you keep riding Abby’s strap, you take a glance out the window, making you slow down to get a better look. You see some people leaving the bar and walking their way back to their vehicles, and your heart begins fucking racing when they pass by Abby’s truck, completely oblivious of the events that are happening inside it.

“Hey,” Abby squeezes your hip, causing you to direct your attention back to her. “They’re not seeing any of this, you know…” she pauses for a moment before continuing. “But I bet you want them to, don’t you? It’s obvious you enjoyed throwing on that little show back there at the bar earlier, so would this be any different?” she asks, leaning in to kiss you. “Would it be any different if those same people saw a pretty cowgirl like you slutting herself out for me like this? Riding my cock and making a mess all over my lap? Hm?”

You whine back at her, shaking your head. “Yeah, I knew you’d like that, my filthy little cowgirl…” she responds with a smirk. “But you see, that’s why I have all of my windows tinted now…because I don’t want anyone to see what’s really mine.”

Your pussy practically throbs at her words. You were so distracted by what Abby was saying to you that didn’t even realize that you had stopped riding her. Your arousal was now just soaking up her cock and jeans. Abby looks down at her lap and smirks before looking back up at you. “I didn’t tell you to stop now, did I?” she asks, giving you a smack on your ass. “C’mon, cowgirl…keep fucking riding me.”

Your pace now begins to quicken this time, and you move your left hand to the armrest that was above your head, gripping it as you keep your other hand on her shoulder. “F-fuck, Abby…f-feels so good….” you moan out to her, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment as the tip of her strap presses onto your cervix while you ride.

“Oh yeah? Does it feel good, princess?” she asks, admiring how you were starting to go dumb on her cock. “That’s it, keep riding me, just like that…Ride me just like how you were riding that damn bull.”

Abby’s words had your stomach doing fucking flips. You tried your best to maintain your fast pace as you rode her strap, but your legs were quickly starting to give out. “A-Abby, help me…please…”

“Aw, you poor thing, getting tired already now aren’t you?” Without any warning, Abby tightens her grip on your hips and begins to slam her cock right into you. You yelp in surprise as your left hand flies from the armrest back onto Abby’s shoulder, and you continue to push your hips down as Abby keeps thrusting inside you. “C’mon cowgirl, be a good girl and cum for me now…”

Your cunt begins to clench around her strap, indicating that you were about to cum. Abby looks down at your pussy, watching in awe as a white ring began to quickly form on her strap. Her thumb meets with your clit, quickly rubbing it as you continue to cum all over her cock, whimpering and moaning out her name as you do so.

As you finish riding out your orgasm, your pace begins to slow down and you rest yourself on Abby’s chest, panting deeply as you try to catch your breath. Before Abby pulls herself out, you grab her left wrist again and glance back down at her watch.

10:43…10:44.

“Four minutes,” Abby says, looking down at her watch. “Looks like you made a new record.”

You playfully push her arm back as she brings her hand back onto your hip and slowly pulls her strap out of your fucked out pussy, causing you to whine at the loss of it. Keeping you in her arms, Abby trades places with you and carefully rests your limp body onto the seat while briefly she gets onto the ground. She peeks through the fogged up windows, making sure that the coast was clear so she could get out of the truck.

As you watch Abby hop off her truck, your eyes start to feel heavy from the exhaustion before quickly fluttering shut for a moment. As your eyes were closed, you could feel Abby’s large hands move your body around before the sudden warmth of her tongue makes contact with your sore cunt, causing you to involuntarily jerk away.

“Hey, relax…I’m just cleaning you up a bit,” she mutters out to you. You simply nod in response, eyes remaining shut as your body eases in and relaxes into her touch again. The gentle movements of Abby’s tongue and lips on your pussy easily removes the tension in your thighs, making you feel as if you were now sinking into the leather of the seat. You then start to feel some shifting of your clothes along with the sounds of the truck doors opening and closing right before you briefly fall into a state of slumber.

The sudden rumbling movements of the truck cause your eyes to slowly flicker back open. You wake up to find yourself lying on your left side in the passenger seat, but now with the seatbelt secured over you. The dim lights of the truck are no longer present, only the faint brightness of the music player on the dashboard is the only thing illuminating your vision right now. The sounds of the few cars on the road surround you, along with the country music quietly playing inside as well. You look up to see Abby with her gaze fixed on the road, with one hand planted firmly on the steering wheel while the other simply rested over on the center console.

You rest your hand on top of hers, and Abby quickly notices that gentle touch of yours, briefly glancing down to look at you. “Hey there…” she says with a smile before looking back up at the road. “You were out for most of the ride, feeling any better?” she asks, gently enclosing your hand into her large palm.

You shift around in your seat, no longer feeling as sore as you were before. “Yeah, a little…” you tell her, resting your head back on the seat as you watch her drive. “I had a really good time tonight, you know…” you tell her, to which she smiles in response.

“I did too,” she replies, quickly looking over to you again. “Felt nice to finally escape from our dads for once.”

The speed of the truck soon starts to slow down before coming to a halt. Your heart instantly sinks to the pit of your stomach, and your smile begins to fade. You knew what this meant.

It meant that you were back home. Your time with Abby was now up.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and sit up completely to look over at the sight of your house. All of the lights were shut off, except for the faint blue light of the living room TV, and you could easily see your dad’s head tilted to the side, indicating that he was now asleep.

You let out a sigh. “I…I don’t want to go back in there,” you say, turning your head back to look at Abby. She simply sighs and gently rubs your shoulder. “I know you don’t, angel…but we can’t risk it. As much as I can’t stand your dad, I don’t want him to get worried about you either.”

Your head hangs low now, nodding in acknowledgment. Abby’s hand gently holds your chin to lift your face. “You know this won’t be the last time, right?” she asks you, to which you nod again.

“I know, I just…I’ll miss you, Abs…who knows when we’ll see each other again?” you ask back, looking up into her soft blue eyes. She nods back at you in response. “It’ll happen again soon, okay? Just know that I’m always gonna have you on my mind, alright?” she says before quickly leaning in to kiss you, the rim of her hat on your head brushing over her hair this time as she does so.

You instantly kiss her back before pulling away to grab your things from the ground. You take a deep breath and open the door, exiting the truck and closing it. Your boots now meet with the concrete of the sidewalk, and you walk your way to the front door of your house. Before you go in, you look back to see Abby watching you from her truck, and you two give each other a final wave before she drives off to park into the driveway of her house.

As the lights of Abby’s truck shut off now, you turn back to the door to unlock it. You slowly open the door just enough to squeeze yourself inside before closing it and locking it again. You turn around to see Joel fast asleep on his recliner while the TV screen illuminates the whole room. Without making a sound, you tiptoe on over to pick up the remote from the coffee table and shut off the TV. You set the remote back down and turn over to pick up a throw blanket from the couch to tuck your dad in before heading upstairs to your bedroom.

The door creaks slightly as you enter inside. You slowly close the door before letting out a sigh as you set your bag down on the ground before kicking off your boots. You take off Abby’s hat and set it on top of your dresser before the rest of your clothes come off of you and to the ground until you’re down to your underwear. You pick up a random oversized shirt from your dad’s company and throw it on. As you’re taking off your makeup, your phone buzzes on your bed, and you reach over to pick it up.

“Abby: I’ll be thinking of you.”

You look up from the screen to your right, seeing her broad silhouette in the bedroom window across from yours. The two of you stare at each other for a bit, until you wave her off and get into bed, to which she does the same right after.

Not only was this the first night the two of you had officially spent alone together, but it was also the first night where you both just couldn’t take each other off of your minds now.

And all you could do was just wait until your path meets with hers again.

- tags 🏷️: @nyctophiliq @lucidfairies @inf3ct3dd @aouiaa @abbysfavewh0rx @lia-winther @grooviestcowboy @pretty-prrincess-13 @iwillkilyou @erinsdeluluworld @elliens4 @totallyghostdgirl @sirenbxby @bellaramslover @uraesthete @cherrycolouredflunk @whorn3y @thatonementallyillsimp @elliewilliamsmunch @gaptoothedlesbo @deadbolted @mochiivqi @floptron @swtsuna @naomis-daydream @hunnybunnyhazel @paprikahoernchen @bbglmfao @thesevi0lentdelights @mostlyhornyandsad @littlegingerperson @ur-fav-pixi @2busyfangirling @lmaoo-spiderman @olive-fics @onlinelesbo @piscesfairyyy @mrsandersons (striked means i couldn’t tag)

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millersfinest · 3 months ago

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WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE | 1

ELLIE WILLIAMS, YELLOWJACKETS AU, SERIES!

SERIES MASTERLIST

001 — When You’re Gone wc: 14.4k

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

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

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

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

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

You’re fucking going to nationals in Boston!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nope… You’re a control freak.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, I told her to be careful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hear you.” You replied, solemnly.

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

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

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

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

“What?” She snarled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, of course.”

“My place it is then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled, waving your hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that supposed to be a joke, Nora?” You ask her, narrowing her eyes. “You were so upset about what happened, and now you’re joking about it?”

“Well, if it never happened, I wouldn’t be joking about it now, would I?” The curly-haired forwarder retorted.

You scoffed, having enough of their paired hooplah—it was annoying you, and you were wanting to have a good night. “You know, what? Fuck you guys.” You mutter, pushing through them toward Dina, Cat, and another one of the players, Aisha Conrad. They were watching with keen eyes, clutching their drinks in their hands.

“They’re such bitches…” You grunted, crossing your arms, wondering where Ellie was with your drink. You could certainly use one.

Cat swallowed a sip of the jungle juice, nodding her head. “Tell me about it.” She shook her head. “I should’ve never told my dad about this— we should’ve booked public instead. They would have booked an entirely different flight than us, and we could’ve all been spared of their endless bullshit.”

“You know, the only reason I think Abby is still on this team is because she’s fucking Moore.” Aisha added, rolling her eyes.

Dina gasped, covering her lips with her hand. “Wait, what?”

“Aisha, we shouldn’t be talking about that.” You remind her, widening your eyes, warningly.

“No, wait.” Dina held up a hand, eyeing you. “Abigail Anderson is fucking Owen? The same girl who I always catch chatting up cheerleaders?” She raised her thick eyebrows, guffawing, loosening up from the alcohol in her hands. “Hell, I’m surprised she’s not doing it right now!”

The short-haired midfielder, Cat, looked to the dark sky in thought. “I wonder why she chose Owen of all people. He’s so… Lame.”

“And good for nothin’.” Aisha added, shrugging.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that—good for nothin’—yeah, that checks out. He definitely wasn’t as good of a coach as Tess Servopoulos; you didn’t even know why he was hired. Who cares if he attended Jackson Hole High a few years prior?

“Why not Henry Harmon?” The freckled girl questioned, swirling her drink in her cup. “Now, he’s hot.”

A surprised laugh left your throat. “Dina, don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him— plus, everybody knows that Henry’s hot. Even you. Just because you’re a lesbian doesn’t mean you don’t have eyes.” Dina rambled, carelessly, until she abruptly covered her mouth with her hand, again.

Instead of cowering from the term of your sexual orientation, you barely flinched. You only narrowed your eyes at your friend, chuckling. “Shit, sorry, y/n.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m sure half the student body already suspects it.” You wave your hand.

Aisha pursed her lips, glancing around the teenager-filled clearing. “I mean, it’s not like you had a boyfriend in the last four years…”

Cat nudged her, roughly, arching her lips in shock. Aisha could be a little bit too honest for her own good. You were surprised that she hasn’t told everyone in a five-mile radius that she was friends with a lesbian. Or, maybe, she had. There was one afternoon—junior year—when you checked your main locker and a note fell out. It was scribbled with pink cursive handwriting, signed with heart and purple lipstick.

I always knew you were a lesbo!

In that moment, you thought your life was over. Then, a girl by the name of Laura Leony privately came forward, saying it was all her doing. She didn’t declare why, but she didn’t have to—you could understand. After that, you just tried to lay low.

That might’ve been the worst of you and Ellie. To argue was to breathe when it came to the two of you last year.

“Aisha, what would I do without you.”

“Crash and burn.” Innocently, she touched her ears with her shoulders, giggling to herself. “I really don’t think people care as much as you think.”

Deeply, you inhaled. “You’d be surprised.”

The sound of your name was spoken from behind, causing you to swivel. It was Ellie and Riley approaching. She had two drinks in her hands, and was mid-conversation, talking with her eyebrows burrowed together. “Spiked punch,” Ellie informed, handing you the red solo cup, filled a bit more than halfway. “And it’s pretty strong.” She sighed, jutting her eyebrows up at the girls as a greeting.

“Did you guys know that Abby’s fucking the coach?” Dina abruptly asked them, pointing a lazy finger.

“Yeah,” Riley chortled, sipping her drink.

“Tess?” Ellie questioned, incredulously, snapping her head toward her best friend in confusion.

You sigh, rubbing your fingers along your eyebrows, tiredly. It was better that less people knew about Abby’s silly affiliation with the young coach—it was better for the Fireflies. “Owen. Not Tess.” Still, you clarified, glancing at her. There was a reason you kept this one thing from Ellie. Her and Abby rarely got along, what if she exposed this interesting fact aloud during an argument? They could open a case, and the entire team could be put on probation until it was solved.

Her jaw dropped in mischievous shock. “What? You knew about this?” Ellie asked you, while her eyes gleamed in the dark. The ‘and you didn’t tell me’ part was silent, but you somehow could still hear her saying it in your mind, filling the gaps.

Your response was none other than a sip of your drink, and a brief lift of your eyebrows. You’ve been captain of your team since the end of sophomore year—of course, you knew about this!

“It’s not obvious?” Aisha perched an eyebrow, downing the rest of her drink.

“Some of us mind our business, Aisha.” Riley snickered, crossing an arm under her elbow. She squinted her eyes at her as a bratty response. “It’s not a secret if it’s obvious.”

“This is great.” Ellie muttered into her cup, shrugging her shoulders.

You snapped her your head toward her. “No, it’s not great. Don’t get any ideas.”

Her best friend laughed, peering down at her amusingly. “Oh, Turner, you’re late. Far too late— the ideas have already began flowin’.” Riley laughed. She was always a subtle lover of chaos and disturbance. She rarely ever caused it, though; Riley was more the type to watch it unfold, and step in if she needed to.

“Ellie,” You warn, deepening your eyebrows.

She put her hands up. “Your secret is safe with me— or, I guess, her secret.” Her smokey, olive eyes glanced at her closest friend, snickering.

You suck your teeth, tapping your fingers against the plastic of your cup. “Why don’t we talk about something else? Boston! Are we excited about Boston?” The lip of your cup found your lips, and you began sipping the drink like your life depended on it. It was the only way to numb your anxieties.

Dina grinned, pointing her finger at Ellie. “Oh, my God— wait, didn’t you get into MIT?”

Immediately, she grew bashful, nodding her head. “Yeah… But I’m not going.”

You paused, turning your body to face hers. “What do you mean you’re not going?” Your eyebrows were deepened, eyeing her intently. “It’s fucking MIT…”

She inhaled, deeply, pursing her lips. “They didn’t have the major I wanted.”

“You never said anything about this.”

“You never asked…”

An awkward beat passed through the group. Mainly hovering between you and Ellie. Your free hand fell to your side, slapping against your bare thigh. Aisha’s voice barrels through the silence, looking around a few parked cars. “Henry!’ She called, waving her hand high above her head, breaking the silence. “I’m gonna go… Come on, Cat!” Aisha took Cat’s hand, dragging her from the group. Whoops, things just got awkward. However, you didn’t care; your eyes were stuck on Ellie’s with a worried irises.

“I’m sure Jesse is somewhere lookin’ for me… I’ll leave you guys.” Dina gave a tightlipped smile, slipping away, leaving the two of you by yourselves.

“You’re still going to college, right?” You ask, looking at her intently.

“Yeah, of course! Joel would have my head otherwise.” She responded, chuckling, glancing off into the woods.

You blink at her, scoffing under your breath. “Okay, so where? I know you applied to Brown, USC… Uhm—“

“Notre Dame.” Ellie answered, plainly, rocking on her feet.

Your jaw practically unhinged itself, flickering your eyes between hers. Notre Dame? That was your school. “What?”

She sighed, downing the rest of her drink, crumbling up the plastic and tossing it to the side. “They had the major I wanted. Biophysics. And… I saw the acceptance letter in your kitchen while you were in the shower a few weeks ago.” Ellie paused, running her hand through her short hair. “It’s your dream school— I knew you’d commit. Their soccer program is phenomenal— aren’t they, like, second in the country?”

With your lips gapped open, you were frozen in surprise. Ellie had decided to attend the same school as you? Even after her set plan of going to Boston? To say the least, you were surprised—as surprised as a person could get. The possibility of the two of you going to college together never seemed to cross your mind. Indiana didn’t seem like Ellie’s gig.

“I was hoping for a better reaction than this.” She tapped your jaw, lightly rubbing her thumb against the structure of your face.

You blinked, again. Taut breath escaping your throat. Instead of speaking, you wrapped your arms around her neck, tugging her against your body, causing your drink to spill down the back of her shirt—it was an accident. “Woah,” Ellie chortled, pulling you in from your waist.

“Fuck, I would’ve said something sooner about Notre Dame— I just…” You stammered, inhaling, sharply. “I don’t know… I was getting really existential about everything. Leaving the team behind— leaving you behind! I was fuckin’ losing it…” You pulled back, keeping your arms draped around her shoulders. Her fingers finding comfort at your hips. “But I swear, I was gonna tell you once we got back from Boston… I wish you would’ve said something earlier. Now, I look like an asshole.” You plucked her shoulder with your fingers, pouting.

“I was waiting until you wanted to tell me for yourself— it just took longer than expected s’all.”

Ellie was patient when she wanted to be. At first, you thought it was because she knew that you were separating soon, wanting to end on a good note an all. She used to gripe about being in an unlabeled relationship, but since the spring semester started, she was a sweet as pie. “I’m sorry…” You mutter, playing with the short hairs at the nape of her neck. The comment of your coach rang through you mind—maybe, you should warn her about messing up… But you didn’t want to ruin this moment.

“It’s fine.” She hummed, flickering her eyes over your features. It really wasn’t fine, in your mind, but whatever she said went. If you were her, you would’ve broken up with yourself a long time ago. “We’re goin’ to college together.” Ellie grinned, leaning toward your lips.

You laugh, adjusting your arms around her neck. “We’re going to college together.” You parrot, leaning into her, carelessly. Not caring for the off-handed looks of your peers—as their expectations were met by the physicality of your relationship.

Before your lips could meet, surrounded by trees, the sounds of an altercation pulled her from you. It sounded like—

“Is that Riley?” Ellie questioned, looking over your shoulder.

You turned around, narrowing your eyes on the figures getting at each other. They were pointing fingers and yelling, causing a group to develop around them. “What the hell…” You mutter, dropping your cup, and jogging over to the scene. Ellie was on your tail with a similar look of confusion.

People had gathered in a circle around them, urging them to have a cat fight. You shoved the guy instigating to the side, pushing into the middle of the crowd. Heat burrowed under your skin, glaring at the two girls—Riley and Abby—as you mentally decided on the course of action.

“You know what, meat-head? I suggest you keep your fuckin’ mouth shut!”

“Or what?!” Abby exclaimed, holding up her arms, tauntingly. “You gonna kick my shin in—? I’d like to see you try!”

“Am I gonna do that before or after you fuck Coach Mo—“

That’s when you interrupt, running between the two of them. Ellie following in your steps, placing a hand on Riley’s shoulder. “Riles, leave it.”

You snap you fingers, glaring at the both of them. “Fireflies! What the hell are you doing— let’s go!” You instruct them, pointing your fingers toward the semi-crowded wood. There was a path leading you down, but you need them to separate from the rest of your class. Abby hesitated, gritting her jaw, glaring at the girl with braids running down her back. “Go on…” You push her arm, lightly, guiding her to lead the group.

The core group of the team lingered in the crowd, pushing through as soon as you commanded. When you found privacy, they stood in a line before you. In the order of: Ellie, Riley, Aisha, Cat, Dina, Nora, Abby, Sid, Uma and Mei. You didn’t even realize Uma and Mei had been in attendance until they materialized from the shadows of the party.

You paced down the line like a military general, with your hands held behind your back. “Clearly, none of you heard me when I said that tomorrow we need to be starting off on a good foot— so, now, I have to treat you girls like children.” You scold, glaring at the most argumentative on the team.

Sid raised her hand, pursing her dainty lips. “You don’t have to…”

Your eyes peered at her, smirking. “Oh, my God! Sid, thank you so much for volunteering for my exercise—“

“Huh?”

“Come here.” You tell her, holding out a hand. She comes forward, stuffing her hands into the front pockets of her jeans. “Here’s what you’re gonna do… You’re gonna go down the line and say what love about your teammates— each and every one.”

Sid groaned, slouching her shoulders. “Ugh, that’s embarrassing! y/n, do I have to? My team knows I fuck with them…”

Dina raised her hand, snickering. “Actually, I didn’t know that… You’re always so quiet.”

You grip Sid’s shoulders from behind, peering over her shoulder. “Now, look at that… Why don’t you start with Ellie?”

She dragged her feet forward, positioning herself to stand before the girl. “Uhm, Ellie… I think you’re one of the best this team has. It may not always seem like it, but I appreciate the feedback you give me when it comes to defense.” Sid sighed moving into the player beside her. “Riley, despite how much it annoyed y/n… I do find it commendable that you were so quick to defend your friend for something that she wasn’t even around to hear.”

Riley glanced at Ellie, earning a soft nudge.

Sid continued, going down the line of the team, awkwardly complimenting until her turn was over. The line went from the end to the front, until everyone had gone; you being the last to compliment your team.

The core argumentative four managed to say nice things about each other, through their opposing opinions, causing everyone to neutralize their emotions. After, Riley Abel had found herself apologizing about nearly exposing the relationship between Abby and Owen—it was fucked up, she said.

Then, Abby apologized for tempting her to fight, which led to her apologizing to Ellie for her harsh judgement. Nora followed suit, hesitantly.

So, your plan worked! Either they were all completely humoring you, or the tactic that Coach Servopoulos mentioned last year actually worked.

It wasn’t long before you heard the horn of Maxine honking at you and Ellie. The complimenting session brought you guys to one, meaning it was time to leave. And neither you nor Ellie didn’t mind. The party wasn’t the most relaxing shindig, but improvements were made within the group. Hopefully, meaning that tomorrow morning everybody will be walking onto that plane with a fresh start.

Sarah had dropped you off at your house. Ellie letting you out the backseat, kissing you goodbye, longingly. Her hands clutched your sides like she didn’t want to release you—like you weren’t seeing each other in seven hours. When she finally did, you held onto her hand until your fingers slipped from hers, walking up the path to your home.

You were a bit of a last-minute packer, meaning you spent the next hour making sure you have everything you needed for Boston. Your uniform, pajama’s, cute clothes, three pairs of shoes—including your cleats. In the case of boredom, you shoved two options of books into your duffle bag. Since you were flying privately, because of a large, humble purchase made by Cat Yoon’s father, there was more give to the weight of your bag.

When you were finished, you put the bags by your front door, as quietly as possible to not wake your parents. Then, you showered and slipped into bed, falling asleep to the image of furthering your education with the love of your life. While it slightly worried you, excitement was the most noticeable emotion coursing through you. More so because it gave you time. Time to open up and be yourself to not only Ellie, but to the world moving and progressing around you. You didn’t want to hide beneath a blanket of neutrality anymore.

To love a woman wasn’t a crime to be charged with. Not anymore, at least—its 1996.

The morning came around fast. Your blaring alarm woke you up with a screech, which was followed by your mother knocking on your door for breakfast. Quickly, you did your hygiene routine. Then, you rushed down the stairs to consume something hearty to last the whole flight, or most of it. You never liked eating on planes. It always felt like the food never digested properly in the air, or perhaps, that was your slight neurosis of flying. Your parents spoke of how proud they were of you, going to nationals, getting into college—they were getting emotional before your eyes.

In a way, their emotions shifted onto you, causing your eyes to water. It felt as if you were already saying goodbye to them. Your father helped pack your bags into the car, before he kissed you farewell. He couldn’t drive you to the airport because work had called him in. “Please, don’t forget to call us when you get to the hotel.”

“Remember, your dad is prone to strokes…” Your mother added, walking around to get into the driver’s seat.

You laugh, pulling from the embrace he had wrapped you in. “I remember. I won’t forget!” You patted his arm, reaching for the handle of the passenger door. “As soon as I get to the hotel, I’ll call you, daddy.”

“All right, have safe flight, honey.”

The sound of the foreign engine of your mother’s car sounded as you slipped into the passenger seat with a departing smile. When your mother pulled out of the driveway, you waved to your father as he watched the car roll into street.

Jackson Hole Airport wasn’t far from your home—under ten miles. So, you didn’t spend a lot of time chatting with your mother before you drifted into the independence of traveling to Boston. You couldn’t get far from the drop-off point before she reminded you to call when you arrived at the hotel. After sharing quick I love you’s, you dragged your luggage, with your duffle bag draped atop of it, into the semi-busy airport.

On your way inside, you catch the frantic movements of Mei Hawkins. She was hitching two medium-sized luggage’s and a backpack. They kept falling over, tilting over sidewalk curbs and bubbles on the pavement. “Mei,” You waved, trotted over toward her. “You need some help?”

Her shoulders were hunched, a whine-like laugh coming from her throat. “If you can…” Mei smiled, showing her slight gapped tooth smile. “Flights always frazzle me.” You took one the luggage’s from her, pulling it along with your other hand. There was some weight to it, more than you thought. “A few years ago, my aunt was in a plane crash— it was minor. Barely lifted off the runway before it came back down. She was stuck in Kyoto for a week.”

You snickered, walking through automatic doors of the airport. “I don’t know if we could count that as a plane crash…”

“You can to! The wheels went up, so everybody felt the collision. It was like a bad landing, but worse.” Mei explained with lifted skinny eyebrows. “It’s freaked me out ever since. I haven’t visited Japan in three years because of it.” She shivered, adjusted the straps of her Jansport. “The only reason why I even agreed to this because, one— it’s nationals, and two— it’s within the country. Slowly, but surely, I’m conquering my fear…”

She was a bit of a nervous rambler, but she played completely opposite of that. Like you, she was a center midfielder—she stood right next to you on the field. When Mei focused, she was a totally different person compared to who she was off the field.

“That’s one way to look at it. Glad you could make it— we need you.” You told her, shuffling through people. The team was able to evade customs since the flight was private, thankfully. Especially, with the load that Mei was carrying.

She chortled, peering her hazel eyes around. “No need to butter me up. I’m already coming.”

“Yeah, clearly. And you brought your whole closet with you.” You laugh, looking over at her. “What’s in this luggage? A dead body?”

Mei looked at you with a pointed expression. “I pack for emergencies…” She leaned closer to you, as you approached the outer boarding area. “All types.” The girl spoke with such diction that made your mind go straight to the gutter.

“Mei, is there alcohol in here?”

Her lip fell between her teeth, mischievously. “I’ll tell if you sit next to me on the plane…” She shrugged, walking ahead of you.

“Sold!” Although, you were planning on sitting beside Ellie, the offer was too good to pass up. If she snuck in the goods, Boston was going to be so much more fun than you expected.

The aircraft came into view, obstructing the morning sun from your eyes. It was the perfect size for your team. A smile creeped onto your face, wheeling yours and Mei’s belongings toward the plane. Coach Servopoulos stood outside, chatting with Henry Harmon, and his brother Sam.

Your eyes widen at the sight of them, jogging toward the two. “Oh, shit! Henry, Sam— since when were you guys coming to Boston?” You ask through a friendly smile, doing a mixture of a waddle and jog to approach the brothers. Mei had simply waved at them, before walking up the metal stairs into the airplane.

Henry grinned, waving his hand, boyishly. He was a senior just like you, approaching graduation with ferocity. He was the president of the school newspaper and worked very hard to earn his position. His brother, Sam, was a sophomore following right in his footsteps, knowing how to man a camera like it was easy. Sam took the pictures, and Henry wrote the stories.

“We’re plannin’ on publishing a story on JHH’s Fireflies going to nationals. Coach T just approved the request yesterday.” Henry grinned, leaning onto his tough-box luggage.

Sam gave a shy, tightlipped smile. He pulled his camera around his body, aiming it you. “Smile!”

The flash of his camera shocked you into being ready, but it didn’t work. “Okay, Sam… At least try and get my good side.” You pose for the photo, turning to the side. He chuckles, snapping the picture, then giving you a thumbs up. “All right, I’ll see you guys inside.”

“What am I chopped liver?!” The head coach calls, slapping her hands against her covered thighs.

“Sorry! Morning, Coach Serv!” You grit your teeth, trotting up the steps. Slightly, struggling with Mei’s bag.

Most of the team had already arrived and they already sat in their seats. Abby jutted her eyebrows at you from her cushioned position, sitting beside Nora. They both had neck rests of different patterns and had faces that exposed their fatigue, and potentially, their hangovers. Dina sat beside Mel, and you knew that wasn’t by personal choice. She waved her fingers at you, keeping place in her book with her other hand. Cat and Aisha sat together, already talking up a storm. Ellie and Riley were the only ones running behind, and it made you frown.

“Mei,” You complain, attempting to put the luggage in the overhead.

“Sorry!” She hopped from the seat she was getting comfortable in, deciding to help you get the luggage into the compartment.

After securing it over your seats, you put your luggage in an empty one a little way from your seat, then the both of you sat. She took the window seat, while you took the aisle, in the front half of the plane. Perhaps, it made sense for you to be ahead of most of the team—you were the captain, after all. And, if you could choose a co-captain—which you asked Coach Servopoulos about a variety of times—it would be the girl sitting beside you, Mei. Not only would she deserve the position, but she’s the next best player beside Ellie. Because the two of you have been involved with each other for some time, choosing Ellie as your co-captain would be a recipe for disaster. Frankly, if she were, the decision would be made on the warm front of collective bias; she played entirely too rough to be considered the co to your captain. And the girls would have a riot.

You lean into Mei, squinting your eyes with inquiry. “What’s in the bag?”

Stubbornly, she shook her head. “I’m not telling you until we take off.”

“You say that like I’m gonna snitch on you, or something.” You bunch your eyebrows together. “I would never… As long as I have in on it.” A snicker fell from your lips, and she playfully shoved you.

“I don’t wanna tell you now because then you’ll just ditch me to sit with Ellie… Whenever she gets here.” Mei pursed her heart-shaped lips, looking through the oval window. She hid behind her words a bit, but you could feel the genuineness peeking through her skin.

An empathetic smile spread onto your lips, gleaming at her. It was always a soft feeling to be liked and appreciated. What a page-turner from the night before. “I already told you that I was gonna sit with you… I wouldn’t go back on my word. Swear.” You held out your pinky-finger, bending it to get her attention.

She narrowed her honey eyes, taking your pinky with hers, releasing a sigh. “Fine…” Mei released your pinky, peering over her seat for prying ears. She leaned toward your ear, and you waited with a slight grin of anticipation. “My sister’s boyfriend sells weed, so she got us fourteen grams to split— but only for the seniors, duh.”

You glance at her. “That can’t be it— your bag weighs a ton.”

“There’s two bottles of Mad Dog 20/20, and the rest of the weight should be my clothes…” She says, looking up at the ceiling in thought.

Your jaw dropped, blinking at her. She had two bottles of Mad Dog 20/20… You never took her for a girl who thrived under rebellion. “Mei, holy shit—” Did her parents know about this?

“What are ya’ll whispering about?” A familiar, raspy voice speaks. Immediately, she caught your attention, causing you to swivel you head around.

“Ellie, where the hell have you been?” Quickly, your attention was diverted—purposely, changing the subject from the items Mei had brought. Sometimes, she had the tendency to be late; and every time it drove you up a wall. “We were told to be here by a certain time for a reason. We’re on a schedule.” You nagged, ignoring the soft kisses she was plotting along your forehead.

She chuckled against your skin before speaking. “Last minute, we had to pick up Riley—”

“My bad!” The brown-skinned girl interjected, raising up a hand while she got situated in her seat toward the back of the plane.

“And some morning traffic picked up— this isn’t my fault. Plus, I bought you some tea!” Ellie offers up a warm cup, holding it in front of you. “It’s lavender.” She grinned.

Your eyes lit up to the drink in front of you, taking the warm cup with quick fingers. “Ugh, I love you…” The mumbled words tumbled from your lips before I could catch them. Every proclamation of love you gave to Ellie was all to yourself, or Dina because she knew about the most when it came to your relationship.

Her olive eyes widened, lips parting in genuine shock. For a moment the world went silent, and neither of you spoke. The process of saying I love you in an environment that wasn’t her bedroom, was an odd feeling. It modeled after the uncomforting bite of a crisp, winter morning—poking at your flushed, sensitive skin.

“Awkward…” Aisha poked her head above her seat, and you shoot her a glare.

Coach Tess Servopoulos walked into the plane, which automatically settled the team. Henry and Sam followed after her, finding their seats somewhere in the middle. Abby waved at Henry, reaching to dap his hand as a greeting.

And she wants to pretend that she’s not lesbian.

Just as she does so, the assistant coach walks steps into the plane, nodding his head curtly at those who spared him a glance. Mel jumped onto her knees in her seat, to wave at him.

Ellie scratched the back of her neck. “I’m assuming you’re sitting with Mei— hey, Mei.” She awkwardly waved.

“Hey, Ellie.” She kindly smiled, bending her index finger at the auburn-haired player.

As you held your warm cup, your skin wrinkled between your eyebrows with internal confusion. Did she not love you? Was this a bad time say that—did you say too much, too fast, too loud? Holy fuck. “Yeah, I am…” You respond, distantly, attempting to meet her eyes but you couldn’t fully.

“Cool, uhm, I’ll be back there,” She juts her thumb toward the pair of seats her best friend was settling in. “With Riley… Uh, maybe Mei and I can switch sometime after take-off…?”

“Maybe… I might be asleep, though…” You scratch your eyebrow, pressing your lips into an awkward smile.

“Oh,” Ellie pursed her lips, chewing on the skin inside of her mouth.

“Yeah… You should probably go find your seat— take-off should be any minute now.” You found a way to blink at her. The auburn-haired player chortled, nodding her head. Her cheeks had reddened from your undignified confession, but with your sudden coldness, she felt the need to retaliate with frustration. A scoff left her plush lips as she stepped away from you, down the aisle. “Thanks for the tea!” You raised the cup, turning your head to face the leather in front of you.

Mei bored her eyes into the side of your face the moment Ellie left. “What the hell was that?”

“As if I would know…” You casted your eyes to the cup in your hands, feeling its warmth.

“I’ve known you guys for a long time…” Mei began, puffing air through her lips. “I thought you were the one with the concerns.”

Mei Hawkins had known about your reservations with your sexuality and was one of the few people to understand why you felt that way. She wasn’t a lesbian or thought of women the way you did but she could empathize. Growing up in Jackson wasn’t always the easiest for her either. Her dark, often chained, fish-netted appearance was always a topic of discussion.

“Me too… I don’t know what the hell that was about.” You frowned, scrunching your eyebrows. Ellie has never acted like that before. The moment your louder with your adoration, wether it was on purpose or not, she quivered away. It was such a discomfort that it made your skin itch.

“Maybe, she was just surprised. I love you is kind of big…”

“I’ve already said it before. There’s no reason for her to be so surprised.” You curtly added, intently peering at your friend. Eyes glinting with a shell of worry. For a moment, you thought your eyes were welling up with tears, heating up behind blinking eyelids.

Before the plane took off, the head coach stood up to speak. She demanded that they were to behave the whole flight, be kind to the two attendants, and don’t cause a stir. The girls acknowledged her word all together, nodding their heads, and speaking the saying ‘heard’ in unison.

Within moments the plane finally took off with an unnerving shake of the vessel.

As it rumbled along the track, and gradually lifted off the ground, your stomach folded. Mei had reached for your hand, clenching it with a firm vice. You placed your other hand over hers, puffing air from your lips. Flights weren’t your favorite thing in the world, but your fear wasn’t as great as hers. Under the light weight of her hand, you could feel her trembling. What happened to her aunt must’ve really frightened her—phobia’s truly know how to bury its roots within a person.

Once you were in the air, you dropped her hand, not before massaging her palm, comfortingly. Soon enough, the attendants were walking down the aisle offering snacks and drinks. You were still good on drinks, considering your tea, but a bag a chips wouldn’t hurt. You weren’t hungry, but you offered to share with Mei. To get her mind off the fact that you were floating in the air in a heavy machine.

Within the next few hours, Mei was the first to fall asleep. She swallowed some allergy medication, probably something to help her sleep, and slumped against the window. You tried to sleep but the idea of Ellie being ashamed of loving you bothered your mind. Sure, it was a thought of insecurity, but she’s never done that before. Has she finally had enough of your tiresome ways? If so, you’d understand. That wouldn’t negate the fact that it would still hurt, though.

However, it wouldn’t make sense. She had just admitted to committing to Notre Dame… Because they had the major she wanted, but also, for you. You were confused, and overwhelmed. Perhaps, it was the flight that was making your brain run slow and obsessively.

There was slight turbulence that made you shut your eyes, holding onto the arm of your seat. But it wasn’t enough to completely freak you out—until the shaking got worse. A flight attendant was walking down the aisle, collecting trash into a bag with a kind smile. Another turbulent bump occurred, causing her to run face first into the wall leading to the pit.

After that, there wasn’t much reaction time to laugh or wonder if she was all right.

The private plane began to wave side to side in the air. Beside you, Mei was startled awake with wide eyes. “What the fuck is happening?”

You couldn’t respond because your eyes were stuck on the attendant. Blood had secreted from a wound the accident caused. Her forehead dribbling with thick, crimson blood. Then, the plane dipped in the air, dramatically.

There was a muffled sound of your seat partner calling your name, but your ears had tuned it out while chaos began to nest within the aircraft. Screaming, wailing, yells for order happened all at once.

Masks dropped from the ceiling, but as you began plummeting from the highest point in the sky, you froze. Hastily, Coach Servopoulos appeared, placing the masks over you and Mei’s face as you both panicked in different ways.

Unexpectedly, a hole materialized in the side of the front of the plane, peeling its mechanics away every passing moment. The pressure sucked the head coach out of it, right it front of you. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you released sobs of trepidation.

Mei was right. She had every reason to fear airplanes—but you hated that she was right. It seemed to be your final moments; you peer at her, reaching for her arm, deciding to cling to her. Somehow, your life flashed before your eyes. The moments you shared with Ellie, the moments you hid from the world in the hopes to be seen as normal. What a fucking waste of time.

With Mei in your arms, you shut your eyes, tightly. To brace for the impact of the earth. However, that was something you never got—well, while you were conscious.

In its plummet, sometime between the crash onto the ground and breaking down of its parts, yours and Mei’s seats had been sucked out of the same hole in the wall that Tess had. When it happened, your body shut down out of fear. And for that, you were subconsciously thankful.

However, when your eyes fluttered open after the fall… To your shock, you were hovering over the ground. Moist soil, covered in green leaves, was the only thing in your line of sight. Birds poked at the back of your head, pinching at your skin. Anxiously, you fanned them away.

There was a pressure pulled against your lower stomach, keeping you suspended in the air. You released a groan, reaching for the tightness restricting your lower abdomen. It was the belt of your seat, still locked into the gear that was connected to the cushion. Mindlessly, you tugged at it, dizzy from the fall and the oxygen being squeezed out of you.

When your thumb found the release button, you yelped as you dropped from your suspension, hitting the ground with a thud. Your arms barely braced your fall, causing you to fall face first into the dirt, getting a mouthful of soil.

Its dry, tanginess shocked your senses—waking you up from the trance that had enveloped you. You coughed it up, rubbing your tongue along the fabric of your shirt. “Oh, my God…” You muttered, leaning back onto your knees, taking in the endless environment that surrounded you. Slender stalks of trees went on for miles before you, and it set fear into your muscles.

Mei.

Just then, you gained the memory of the crash. The shutting down of the engine, a hole being blown into the side of the aircraft, the screaming and wailing—you crashed in the woods, but where? You were in a fucking plane crash!

“Mei!” You called for her, rasping, attempting to stand to your feet. You wobbled, scratching your sore throat. But, as you pivoted on your feet, you didn’t have to search far for your seat buddy. Your eyes widened at the sight, lips parting to erupt a horrified shriek.

Her body was strung up, caught in thick branches. Her warm, hazel eyes were wide open, frozen in a state of fear—looking at you. A branch was impaling her chest, propping her body up like a piece of meat on a skewer. It was the same branch that your seat was attached to; the one you fell from.

Your hands covered your mouth in horror, falling back onto your knees. “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry…” You chanted, leaning into the ground, rocking your body to soothe yourself. Not that it was working. If you could climb the tree to take her down, you wouldn’t have enough strength to pry her from the branch. You couldn’t help her.

Then, the thought of everyone else flooded your mind. “Oh, my God— Ellie…” You whined, wiping your face that was getting covered in more dirt by the second. If something had happened to her… You wouldn’t know what to do. You’ve never been one for suicidal thoughts, but the idea would entice you.

For a moment, you couldn’t help but panic, imagining the worst. What if she was the one strung up like Mei—you wouldn’t be able to take it. The image of that flashed behind your eyelids, causing a cry to emit from your lips. Please, don’t be dead.

The smell of smoke and gas wafted into your nostrils, causing you to sit up. It must’ve been the plane.

Boom!

The sound of an explosion startled you, but it sounded close by. You refused to be alone—out in the middle of nowhere—so, you straightened up. You stood to your feet, dusting the dirt from your shorts. With a final glance to the fallen Mei, you pressed your fingers to your lips, sending a kiss her way. I’m sorry. Internally, you made a promise to never forget her because that was all you could do. She succumbed to one of her greatest fears—what a tragic way to meet one’s end.

However, you had a team to locate, despite the looming temptation of death looking you right in the eye—for the sake of self-preservation, and for the sake of proving to yourself that you weren’t alone in the torture that was the grief nesting inside of you.

taglist: @sawaagyapong, @violetszn, @vxsellie, @vahnilla, @cherryvinyl-777, @aphrodyk3, @lovinglynny.

#🪅#millersfinest #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams x reader #lesbian #ellie williams smut #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams series #yellowjackets au

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cowgirlcherrie · 2 years ago

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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.

#💭ᜊ cher thinks #cherry writes 🤍#abby anderson #modern au #tlou2 #abby anderson x reader #florist! abby #florist! abby x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby the last of us #abby x black! reader #abby x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x black!reader #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson headcanons #abby headcanons

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gracieheartspedro · 2 years ago

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Beggin' for Thread

part 2 of Trash Talk

pairing: fem!reader x abby anderson (post outbreak, set before the events of tlou2)

description: being stuck with abby and him-who-should-not-be-named on a mission is already a big problem. especially when you're not on your a-game. abby ends up saving your ass. but hey, it may not all be in vain. shit starts to get a bit better.

word count: 9.2k (HAHAHA I got wild with this one.)

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, no use of y/n, no real descriptions of reader, nsfw, smut, wlw, some slight bullying, this part has a lot of murder in it (so if you're not good with violence, pls skip out), use of guns, graphic description of dead bodies, ow*n is in a lot of this (sorry), dom!abby, abby giving reader a bed bath, fingering, eating out, use of a strap on, dirty talk, name calling. someone lowkey walking in on sexy time? if I missed anything, please let me know.

author's note: the wait is over! the love on part 1 blows me away. I love you guys so fucking much. you each make my heart so happy. thank you thank you thank you!!

“Hey, Heartless. Glad you could join us today.”

His voice makes your skin crawl. You rub your eyes, trying to clear the haze out of your vision. You’re overly exhausted. After Abby left, you never found sleep. You could not get her out of your mind. She left you disoriented.

“Hey, Owen,” You mutter, his name tastes disgusting in your mouth. He was gross to look at, let alone talk to. You decide to occupy your mind by checking over the guns you were just dispensed while you sit and wait for the jeep you would be loaded into gets gassed up.

“Heard you and Abby got into it.”

You heart stops. He can’t know?

You hold your composure, not even flinching at the question. If he did know, you’re just going to deny it and tell him to fuck off.

“What are you talking about?” You play dumb, not ever looking up to meet Owen’s gaze above you.

“Manny told me you were going in on her yesterday,” He sounds a bit unnerved when he says it. You stop checking over your gun, finally meeting his eyes. Before you can respond, you cock the gun before flicking the safety on.

“It’s not my fault she can’t pull her fuckin’ punches. We could’ve easily been picked off one by one since she didn’t want to unload her gun at some Scars.”

You don’t even realize how bitter you sound until it all comes out like word vomit. You weren’t even that angry about that, you knew you could handle it all alone. It was the fact that she left you hanging last night and became cold so quick.

Owen chuckles, “Take it easy, dude. I’m just wonderin’ why you think it’s okay to talk to her like that.”

He’s sizing you up. Typical of a man like Owen.

You stand up, knowing damn well it was the wrong day for him to do some shit like this to you.

You sling your rifle over your shoulder, “I’m not in the mood to answer to some fuck ass like you. And I’m also sure your new nurse girlfriend wouldn’t like to hear that her boyfriend is trying to stick up for his ex.”

“Don’t bring Mel into this,” He begins, his stance shifting, “You don’t get to talk about her.”

“And you don’t get to weasel your way into my business because you’re some entitled idiot who thinks every woman owes you something,” You begin to side step past him, “For all our sake, keep your mouth shut and leave the leading to the girls.”

You don’t listen to the rest of the shit he spouts at you. You walk towards Manny, who’s standing next to another guy, you think his name is Alex. You give him a slight nod of acknowledgment.

“Hey there, cariño,” Manny says a smile creeping across his face, “Sleep well?”

Your skin crawls.

“Like a baby,” You mumble, your eyes feeling heavy as you respond, “Who are we waiting for?”

“Abby and Leah will be here any minute,” Alex explains as he finishes filling the jeep with fuel, “Think they went to grab some breakfast.”

Hearing Abby’s name next to another girl's name made your throat tighten. You can’t be jealous. She’s not yours.

Just as you’re about to say something about being late to your checkpoint, Manny's eyes avert up to the door leading into the stadium. Abby and Leah appear, both holding a plethora of breakfast burritos. Your stomach had been upset all morning because of anxiety, so the idea of food makes you want to hurl. You observe Abby and Leah hand each foiled wrapped tortilla to everyone, making jokes about being late.

Abby’s eyes lock onto yours as soon as her head turns in your direction. She blinks before avoiding your gaze for Manny’s.

“Nice for you guys to join us,” Alex jokes as Leah walks towards him with an extended hand, burrito in tow.

You scoff, “Yeah, we should’ve left 20 minutes ago.”

Abby’s face drops from a soft smile to a deadly glare. She gives Manny a burrito, her hands holding two remaining.

One was meant for you.

“Yeah? Well you should’ve gotten a head start by yourself. Cleared the way for everyone.”

Her sharpness filled you with rage. She extends some foil towards you. Before you can even say anything, your instincts are to swat her arm away. The burrito flies out of her hand, splattering across the concrete floor.

“What the fuck,” She yells, her eyes trained on your deadpan expression. You feel a hand on your shoulder, and you glance back to a stern looking Manny. He doesn’t want a repeat of yesterday.

You look back at Abby’s furrowed eyebrows, her scrunched face causing sharp pains to go across your chest.

“I don’t like burritos.”

She shakes her head, “So you launch it out of my fuckin’ hands when someone else could’ve eaten it?!”

You don’t say anything, just turn and begin your climb up onto the jeep. You slip onto the spot you found yourself in yesterday, closest to the passenger side.

You watch everyone hesitantly get in behind you.

“Are you okay taking the top floors with Owen and Abby? Or do you want to come with me and Leah?”

Manny is adjusting his rifle on his shoulder. You all arrived to the skyscraper you heard Scars were trying to take over to get some higher ground on a popular WLF route. Your goal is to take out every Scar there and prepare it for WLF occupation.

Manny wanted to make sure you would not act up for Abby and Owen. He didn’t want to deal with the fallout if there was another incident involving you. He really liked you, he didn’t want to see you getting chewed out or possibly killed. You appreciated him looking out for you.

“That’s fine,” you settle your hands confidently on your gun, “I will be on my best behavior, Manny. Promise.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

You stay back from the rest of the group as you all walk quietly through the destroyed streets of Seattle. Luckily this area wasn’t consistently flooded, so you didn’t have to wade through any filthy water today.

Abby walks in front of you next to Leah and Owen. You stare at her backside, trying not to make yourself too obvious. You need to cut it out, you need to focus.

When you all finally make it to the building, you huddle in with the group to remind each person where they are going. You and Manny hashed it out already so you want to be positive you knew where everyone would be if all hell broke loose.

Owen cringes when he hears that you’d be joining him and Abby.

You all split up to your designated places. You let Owen lead not wanting to argue when Scars could be on any corner. He starts towards a staircase, his gun trained forward. You follow him before Abby does, which means she gets to be behind you now. You three head up each staircase, your guns resting on your shoulders. You are as quiet as mice, your footfalls silent.

Owen stops, turning back to you and Abby.

“I hear them,” He whispers, pointing up the flight you have yet to go up. You nod, gesturing him to press forward. He continues on. This is when your adrenaline turns to numbness. You forget the emotions you had before you were in this staircase, they are now replaced with pure instinct.

Owen creeps open the door and that’s when you hear it.

A whistle from behind you.

You snap back, your finger and eyes reacting at the same time. A single Scar with their bow trained right on Abby. With one squeeze, they are on the ground bleeding and Abby jumps forward towards your body. She wraps her arms around your waist, her gun aimed towards the door Owen just opened. More whistling.

“Go!”

You’re not even focused on the fact that Abby has her hands on you, pulling your attention back to the open room of about 10 Scars. Owen is lighting up the room, but firing aimlessly. You hunch down, taking cover behind the door frame. Abby is beside you, tightly gripping onto her gun. You glance over at her. She’s not panicked, she’s not rattled. She’s angry.

You smirk at her, sickly enjoying her in this state.

You snap forward, aiming everywhere you see movement. Luckily Owen got the few at the front of the room. One, two, three, drop in their puddles of blood. When more gunfire erupts behind you, instinct is to look back. So when you look back at Abby firing skillfully at the people you missed, you just about fall to your knees.

When you look back, you realize no more movement stirs the smokey room.

“Everyone okay?” Owen calls out as you step forward as you wander around each piece of furniture in the room. You want to make sure you’re vigilant.

“I’m good, are you?”

You step over a man’s body as you spot a foot move behind a desk.

When you make it over to the body, it’s a girl with her hand over her neck. You aimed at her earlier, you could’ve sworn you aimed higher.

The fact that your initial thought was how you killed her made your brain snap back. What the fuck are you doing?

She’s trying to speak, but nothing is coming out. Blood is pooling on her chest and hands. You kneel down to her, your demeanor changing from violent murderer to grieving friend. Even with the scars littering her face, she looks just like any other girl you may know. Her mouth is moving but nothing is coming out. You reach out your hand, touching her leg.

You can feel your stomach flip when you notice a tear slipping from her eye. Guilt riddles your bones, the blood spilling from her by your own hand.

You swallow thickly before you mutter the words, “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

She lets out one final breath.

You stand, your legs feeling wobbly. You look back at Abby and Owen. He’s not focused on you, but Abby can’t look away from your actions. She gives you a curious look, watching you stumble a bit.

“What is it?”

You can’t even form words, too taken aback from watching the life slip from that girl’s eyes. It brought you back to when you were a child, watching your sister die. That could’ve been someone’s sister.

“What the fuck are we even doing?” You ask, trying not to stutter.

Owen finally looks over at you after stealing a guy’s gun magazine, “What are you talking about?”

You know you’ll get in trouble for saying what you really want to say. You can’t trust either of them. Everything would get back to Isaac.

So you don’t say anything.

You finish clearing the room, trying to avoid looking at the faces of the deceased. Owen and Abby leave the room while you trail behind them slowly. You’re on edge, trying to shake the emotions and ideas running through your head. It’s the same emotion you felt when that guy tried to force you to butcher a child, probably not even above the age of 10. Their mother stood by, screaming the child’s name, but you were too busy staring into the child’s eyes.

They are just like us. What are we doing?

Owen kicks open another door, leading you and Abby through what you assumed was an old board room. There was no one there, but as you looked across the water damaged floor, you notice one of the shattered glasses windows. You creep closer, the glass crunching under your boots. You look down to the street, the grass overtaking the main road. You start to imagine what this place probably looked like before the infection.

Now it’s a wasteland.

You realize how high up you are when you hear a shaky breath behind you. Abby stands close to you, trying to see what you’re seeing, but instead she starts to panic over the height you were at. You face her, remembering all the times you were forced to take the high ground with her, only for her to have a panic attack and leave you alone.

She’s practically dry heaving. You push her back, nudging her to get away from the open window.

“We don’t need you throwing up,” You grumble, your hand on her shoulder, “Stay back.”

She swallows, shaking her head. “Deal.”

Owen scopes out an attached room before you three continue pressing on. You needed to clear every room that wasn’t destroyed by time and vegetation.

You pander down an empty hallway by yourself, trying to ensure your footsteps are not loud. You grip your gun when you hear a couple voices in a separate stairway. You press yourself against the wall next to the exit, waiting for the voices to get closer.

“There can’t be that many left. We already got two of them.”

You snap your head the direction Abby and Owen were the last time you saw them. Now it’s only Abby. She stares at you, her eyes glinting with curiosity. You nod towards the door next to you, cocking your gun.

She knows what that means. She jogs over, trying not to be too loud.

When she gets to your side, she gets into a defensive stance. The voices are coming down the stairs, you think.

“Aim up. There’s two.”

She nods right before you kick open the door, exposing the two people on the stairs. They don’t even have time to raise their weapons before Abby riddles them with bullets.

The sound attracts Owen, who comes stomping down the hallway.

“There’s more, go down!”

You hold your ground, shaking your head, “We can’t! Isaac said we need to c-”

“Fuck what he said. We are gonna die if we stay!”

Owen is never one to abandon a mission, so you take his word for it. But you know what you heard, if they did kill 2 people, one of them could’ve been Manny. And if they killed Manny, you don’t know what you’d do. Manny is the only other person you can tolerate in the WLF. Besides… you know.

You have to just hope he’s okay.

Abby’s eyes widen as she looks down the hall where Owen was just coming from. Whistles erupt and you know what that means. Abby grabs your free hand, practically ripping your arm out of the socket as she takes off down the stairs.

You’re practically being dragged down the steps, skipping multiple steps at once as Abby never gives up your hand. Owen is close behind, but every so often, he stops to aim up the stairs to spray bullets. He’s trying to slow them down, but he’s also probably attracting more to your location. A door swings open in Abby’s path, and without even thinking for a millisecond, you lift up your gun and shoot directly into the opening. It was just one guy and your aim was spot on. Your mind is solely on protecting the girl who’s incapable of letting go of your hand.

“Keep moving!”

Another five flights and you’re finally on the ground floor. Abby finally releases your hand, letting you catch your breath for a second as Owen stands his ground and lights up the staircase behind you.

“We need to find the others! Now!” Abby yells over the gunfire.

You stumble forward, checking down the hallway you watched Manny and Leah go down before you three walked up the stairs. You don’t even say anything, you just start running down the corridor. Your throat is tight just thinking of Manny’s lifeless body.

Two Scars appear behind a corner and you expertly shoot them, running straight pass them without hestitating. You’re in fight or flight mode, your body shaking with fear that you could stumble upon a horrible scene.

You don’t know when you start doing it, but you start screaming his name. Over and over again. You’re giving away where you are to the enemy, but you did not care.

Before you can finish slaughtering more people, Manny and Leah yell your name from a room at the end of the hall. When you get to the door, you kick it open with all your might, breaking through the door with your foot.

“¿Qué pasó? Are you alright!?”

You’re panting and on edge, so when you see Manny’s concerned face, you breath a sigh of relief. His voice brings a bit of comfort as well.

Abby finally makes it to you, her boots halting right behind you, while her hands find the sides of your body.

“We gotta go! There’s more Scars than we thought. We either go or die!”

You swallow thickly, your body buzzing at the feeling of Abby’s large hands on your hips. She’s not doing it on purpose, it’s almost like she needs to have you close. She needs to protect you just like you protected her.

Manny glances over at Leah, nodding in agreement that they are on the same page. Abby pulls you away from the threshold so they can leave the room they were scoping out. Owen gets to you four, informing everyone where he thinks the Scars could hide and how they would probably make your escape hard. Abby’s hands are still on you.

You glance back at her, your lips slightly ajar. She looks down at you with hooded lids.

“We are getting out of here and you’re not leaving my side, got it?” She whispers for your ears only. You just nod.

You’re just following everyone at this point, keeping your finger trained on the trigger of your gun. Abby follows you closely, not letting you out her eyeline. You run through each corridor, trying to seek out a good exit. When you finally reach the end of a hallway, you peer out the floor to ceiling windows to see if you spot any Scars outside. There’s two rooms beside you that look like they are empty, but there’s no light shining through the thresholds. This is the only way out down this hallway. You were sick of being a sitting duck. When you realize you have no other choices you liked, you shoot out the window.

The group jumps back at your reaction.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Owen yells, smacking your shoulder hard. You turn your gun and aim it right at him. Abby’s eyes widen at your action, her arm instantly going up to block the barrel of your gun. She’s pleading with you, her eyes never leaving yours.

“I’m getting us out of here. Why do you insist on being a prob-”

Before you can get the rest of the word out, you hear footsteps approaching you quickly from the right. All you can remember is the air being taken from your lungs and your body flying sideways, away from Abby’s protective stance.

When you come to, you’re being held up by someone. You blink slowly, but your eyes will not focus on the person whose arms are holding you tight.

“What’s happening?” You manage to mutter. As you say it, you taste blood. Your ears are ringing, but you can still hear the voices around you. They are yelling to run faster!

“You’re gonna be fine, okay babe?”

You know that voice.

“You can’t call me that.”

She slows down a bit just to look at you, “Can call you whatever I want.”

Your head hurts. You know you can not fight the exhaustion plaguing your body. You can’t even argue back to her. You shut your eyes again, succumbing to the darkness.

You notice the pounding headache first. Then the very dimly lit hospital room you’re in. Then the presence in the corner of the room.

“Welcome back,” Her voice is smooth and velvety. You prop yourself a bit, but as soon as you do, it’s like the pressure in your head doubles. You feel like your brain may implode, the pain pulsating against your skull. You try to widen your eyes to focus on her, but your brain cannot muster enough energy to do so. Your vision is just slightly blurred while you train your eyes on her.

“What happened?” Your voice is weak and your mouth is dry. You try your best to create saliva, but nothing really happens when you smack your chapped lips.

“You got tackled by a Scar before any of us could see him coming. Asshole was quick. You smacked your head pretty hard on the floor,” She stands up from the chair in the corner, making her way closer to you. She’s not wearing the same shirt as yesterday. She’s in a long sleeve thermal, the light off white is a good color on her.

You blink slowly, trying to take in the information, “What happened to him?”

“Manny shot him when I was ripping him off you. It attracted a lot more of them. I grabbed you before anyone else could and just took off running.”

You look up at her when she gets to your side. You don’t say anything, just shake your head. You can’t believe Abby, of all people, saved you from possible death. She had your back the whole time, even though you gave her shit. You didn’t even realize the small glances, the quick actions when you were in your own zone.

All you could think about the whole time is how you were totally off your game and Isaac was going to have your neck for it.

“And the rest of the group?”

“They were close behind. We made it back to the jeep pretty quickly. I held you in the back until we could get to the hospital. That’s where we are now.”

“Who didn’t make it out?”

Her lips go into a thin line, “Alex and Kerrigan.”

Alex was the guy from earlier this morning with Manny. He seemed nice enough, surely he didn’t deserve to die. Kerrigan was a girl you remember from a couple of meetings with Isaac. She was a smaller girl, quick on her feet and very quiet. You can’t even really remember her face, which makes you feel bad.

“Shit… I’m sorry we couldn’t get to them.”

“Not your fault. They knew what they were getting into when we had them join patrols. I know Owen’s taking it pretty hard.”

You want to smack her for even bringing up his name. But you don’t. You know she still may have a special place in her heart for him. You just despised him, especially after he confronted you this morning. Prick.

She’s taking her time explaining things to you. You realize she’s not ever looking away from you when she speaks, something she usually does when you stare at her. She’s watching you carefully, her beautiful eyes soft with empathy.

“Are you okay?” You question, reaching out to her closest hand. She doesn’t pull away when you grab it, bringing it into your side.

She bites her cheek, “Yeah, course I am. Just glad I got you out of there.”

The softness of her whisper brings warmth to your entire body. You didn’t care about your head, or how hot the room was, or how you may have serious repercussions when you got back to the Stadium.

What mattered is that she’s here. She’s here and she wants to be. You felt relief that she may have come to her senses about what happened between you two. Something had to of changed.

“What changed? Why are you so dead set on helping me now?”

She winces, probably not expecting you to ask such a question. She contemplates for a minute, licking her lips to prepare herself for what she’s about to say.

“I can’t stop thinking about last night. Made me realize how I really feel about you,” You’re heart races at her words. You’re amazed when she continues, “I think I was scared of having those types of emotions for you. That’s why I couldn’t stay. I didn’t want to lay in your bed and overthink everything when it’s pretty simple.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “What’s simple?”

“The fact that I like you. And I have for awhile.”

It’s like the world stops and it’s just you and Abby. You can tell she’s nervous to say it, but she needed it off her chest like it was suffocating her. She lefts out a long huff, crouching down in a squat. Her unraveling braid falls onto her shoulder and you let your eyes trail it down to her chest. You notice some blood speckled in with her freckles, right near her button nose and cheekbones.

“Yeah, I like you, too.”

She smiles subtly, trying not to get too excited over the confession. But the truth was that she wanted to jump up and down in elation. She had never had someone confide in her about their feelings for her, so the idea that someone as beautiful as you could like her despite all her baggage, it gave her hope.

“I want to go home,” You grumble not sure what else to say, your thumb running over the back of her hand, “I wanna go home with you.”

“The doctor here wants to monitor you another day. I have to ship out and get back to explain to Isaac what happe-“

“No, fuck that,” You squeeze her hand, “You’re staying here with me and bringing me back to the Stadium. I’m not going back with anyone else.”

She notes the serious nature of your tone. She looks up at you with those eyes. Abby Anderson could very well be the death of you.

“I can’t refuse orders, babe,” She states, her eyes falling to your joined hands.

“Bullshit, Abby. If you tell Isaac I want you as my transport, he will let you stay. I don’t want to be with anyone else.”

You’re practically panicking thinking about Abby leaving without you. With the way you feel now, you don’t want to be out without her. She felt like the safest person to have around. You can’t trust anyone else.

You start to finally bring wetness back to your mouth, “Tell him that you need to be with me.”

“You know damn well everyone will be suspicious. I need to go back. You need to stay here. Nora will take you back, you’ll be s-“

“Get me out of this fuckin’ bed right now. I’m going with you.”

You stay to move but your body feels like jello. As soon as you try to plant your feet on the ground, Abby is reaching over your legs and placing them back on the gurney.

“Babe,” She pleads, “Just… fuck. Okay fine, I’ll stay. I’ll stay. We can both answer to Isaac when we get back, I guess.”

Relief rushes over your body.

“He’s going to have a lot to say to me, that’s for sure. I failed two missions in a row that usually are a piece of cake,” You put your free hand over your forehead. You’re sweating so bad. You glance over at Abby who’s reaching over to one of the tables by your bed for a rag, “I’m not a submissive girl to him like I am to you.”

She smirks up at you. She can’t believe you admitted to being a submissive to her.

“Yeah, you are, aren’t you?”

If your body didn’t feel like shit, you know you’d be grabbing Abby by her collar and hauling her up on the bed to kiss you. She made your face go hot, her piercing eyes raking down your body. You almost felt embarrassed being so vulnerable in front of her.

“Stop looking at me like that,” You warn, adjusting your butt on the hard bed.

“Like what?”

You rake your mind for a response. You settle for repeating something she said to you yesterday.

“Shut that stupid smart mouth up for a minute,” You try to mock her but you sound nothing like her. She laughs at your half assed imitation. She pats your head with the cold rag, getting all the sweat off your forehead.

“Get some sleep, you weirdo.”

“How ya doin’, princess?”

You shake your head at the nickname, smacking her arm with your left hand. You’re still weak and tired, but you felt a lot better with some extra rest. Abby loaded you up in a jeep as soon as you could hobble outside, and now you are heading back to the stadium. You couldn’t wait to get in your bed and sleep for three days straight.

“‘M good, thanks.”

Her smile is the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen. You didn’t know what this meant for you two, but you were excited to see how things would change over time for you two. Maybe you’d be put on less patrols together, but you could spend your free days and nights with her. After all this time, you could have her.

She taps her fingers on the steering wheel, “Can I ask you something?”

“Depends.”

She slows down the car to glance over at you, “What did you mean when you asked what the hell we were doing? Yesterday when that Scar was trying to reach out to you as she was dying?”

Your heart sinks. Your mind instantly goes to betrayal. Abby is only acting like this towards you because she wants information. She wants to rat you out.

You go from thinking about your deep desire for Abby to thinking about how to protect yourself, she’s going to ruin your life. You’re instantly spiraling.

“I don’t know what you’re asking me. Are you insinuating something?”

You watch as panic spread across her face. She realizes how bad she sounds asking such a question.

“No, no,” She’s starting to stutter and use her hands as she speaks, “That’s not what I meant by it.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I’m just wondering if you feel the same guilt I feel sometimes! You know, like when you kill a someone and watch the life leave their eyes, I don’t know. Jesus.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. She wasn’t trying to double cross you, just emphasize with you. You really can not trust yourself to think the worst of everyone. Maybe because it felt like everything with Abby was too good to be true.

You wet your lips, “Yeah, that’s what I meant. I don’t like to… I never enjoy killing people. I never have.”

She can’t help but laugh a bit. “Well you’re really fuckin’ good at it.”

“Top Scar killer in all the WLF,” You wince when you say it. She doesn’t say anything just shakes her head, speeding up the jeep down an old abandoned alleyway. You weren’t too far from the entrance to the Stadium.

She clears her throat, “There’s only one person I’d really enjoy killing.”

Abby has never shared a lot about her past. You knew she and the Salt Lake crew were former Fireflies. You knew that she lost her dad not too long before she got to Seattle. But that’s all the information you managed to get out of her when you two were close before. She didn’t want to talk about herself, she’d rather hear about your tortured past.

“Who?”

“Joel Miller,” Silence takes over the cabin of the car. You have no idea who that is or why she cared to kill him. Before you can ask, she speaks up again, “The man who killed my father.”

You understand what it feels like to want revenge. But you also know what it’s like to finally get it. Most of the time you still feel bad. Nothing brings back the dead, not even the satifaction of watching their killer’s take their last breaths. You brutualized the man who killed your sister, and it never made her death any easier. But you knew that yearning was different for everyone. Maybe it would make Abby feel better.

You decide it’s best to just nod, acknowledging her desire.

The rest of the ride is pretty quiet, just the sound of crackling of rocks under the SUV’s tires. When you get to the entrance of the Stadium, Abby waves and calls out to the gatekeeper. He opens the tall wired fence and lets you two pass through. As soon as Abby parks, it’s like a swarm of people surround you two. Abby gestures you to wait so she can get your door. You laugh thinking about that stupid saying some old people say.

Maybe chivalry isn’t dead.

She swings open the door, pushing aside some random guy who’s staring you down. You grab Abby’s shoulder as you ease yourself onto the concrete. You were still a bit unsteady when you walked. It was a mixture of the weakness but also Nora told you that the concussion you have is probably causing balance issues. You took her word for it.

“Top Scar killer not looking so well, now,” The guy mutters from behind Abby, “Who knows, maybe one of us can be Isaac’s favorite ass kisser!”

You don’t even know the guy and the vibe he’s giving off is making you nervous. He’s about 5’8” and stocky. Abby could take him herself, but you don’t feel the need for her to fight for your honor after everything that you two have been through in the last two days. Abby huffs out in annoyance, ensuring you’re able to stand properly. You start to walk towards the ramp that leads up to the Stadium’s main corridors. The guy is still muttering shit as Abby unloads your backpack and hers.

“What are you friends with her now, Abby?”

“Can you fuck off? Does it look like either of us are in the mood?” She spits, slinging your backpack over her shoulder. You stand and wait at the base of the ramp for her to catch up. The guy just follows her closely, interrogating her about the mission that failed. Abby just ignores him, her eyes locked on yours. Before she makes it to you, the guy asks one final question.

“What do you have a crush on her or something?”

Abby drops her backpack on the ground, and within seconds, she has the guy pinned to a truck parked near the ramp. His body makes a loud thwack when he hits the metal. Her back muscles flex as she tightens her grip. As hot as it is, you don’t feel like watching her beat someone bloody for something so dumb. You weren’t feeling your fiesty self, you just wanted to be in bed.

“Did anyone ever fuckin’ teach you manners or are you just that fuckin’ dense?” She has her teeth clenched. As you get close, you see that she’s ripping his t-shirt. Your moving slowly, but as soon as violent words are being exchanged, you firmly grab Abby’s arm. She peels her eyes away from the guy, her face still scrunched in frustration.

“Just let him talk his shit, Abs. He’s just jealous because he can’t get any pussy.”

You don’t even know why you included the last part, but it only aggravates the guy more. You aren’t very good at deescalation. You usually instigate things, it’s your specialty.

Luckily, the master of settling fights comes running down the ramp. Manny.

“Hey, you guys just got home and you’re already stirring up trouble?”

Abby still has the guy pinned, his eyes trained on your fragile frame.

Manny grabs Abby’s arms and pries her off the guy, his body blocking you away from the guy as well. He starts speaking Spanish under his breath, probably venting his frustrations about Abby and you not giving him a moment of peace.

He talks down the guy, guiding him away from you and Abby. You bend over to grab her bag and shakingly hand it back to her. She watches carefully as Manny escorts the guy further down the parking lot. With her free arm, she wraps it protectively around you. You get chills up your arms and back as you two walk into the Stadium. You’re surprised she’s showing any inkling of liking you to other people, especially her peers. You know there were probably about 10 other people in the parking lot, and they for sure saw her sticking up for you.

She drops her arm as soon as you make it to the main hallways. People glare over at you as you drudge yourself down the halls, finally making it to a staircase that would put you right in front of your room. Abby lets you start up the stairs first while she stands behind you, keeping her eyes wide in case you fall backwards. You’re relieved as you reach the last step and spot your door waiting for you.

Abby runs ahead of you, grabbing the door and wiggling the knob.

“It’s locked.”

She rolls her eyes, “I know that now. Where’s your key?”

You turn your jaw upward and gesture towards the necklace. “Here.”

Instead of making you unravel it, she lifts her hands up to your chest. Her fingers travel down from your neck to your collarbones. She’s teasing you and it’s working.

She grabs the key and toys with it for a minute, trying to release the clasp. Once she figures it out, she holds the key up like a grand prize.

“You’re so stupid, please let me in my room.”

She giggles as she sticks the key into the latch and turns it, “Patience, princess.”

Once the door clicks, she opens it for you. The cold air of your room rushes out and cools your sweaty and dirty skin. You get a sense of solace when you walk in, your body feeling a bit reenergized at the sight.

Abby walks close to you, shutting the door behind her. She shimmies off your bag, dropping her own near the door.

“You mind if I stay for a bit?”

Butterflies creep into the pit of your stomach. You turn to face her, spotting a somewhat hesitant girl picking at her cuticles.

“I was hoping you would. Maybe you could give me a bed bath, just like my nurse did.”

She nods, a smirk plastered across her freckled face.

“If you need me to, I can for sure do that,” She starts to walk over to your sink, searching for some sort of bowl or towel, “I could probably do a better job.”

You stumble over to the side of your bed, kicking off your boots with a grunt. You know exactly where this is going, and even with your weakened body, you want her so bad.

She continues to search around, finding a large bowl and a couple of your wash rags. She fills the bowl with the warmest water as you peel off some of your clothes, leaving you in just your underwear and tank top.

“A better job, huh?”

She finds a bar of soap near your shampoo bottles. She sniffs it before she bounds over to you.

“Yeah,” She places the bowl on your side table, dropping a rag inside it to soak it, “I think I know your body a little bit better than Nora. Especially after the other night.”

She can’t talk to you like this, especially now that you’re in your underwear. You scoot over on the bed to allow her to sit as she rings out the blue rag. She lathers a bit of soap on it before she starts with your arms.

She grabs your wrist delicately, lifting it so she can clean the dust and dirt off. You watch her so intently, watching her wipe you down. When she finishes one arm, she does the other. She takes her time, tilting it back and forth to ensure she got every side.

“You want me to do your legs next?”

You smile as she soaks the towel again and ring it out. “You can do whatever you want, Abs.”

She raises her eyebrows as she creeps further down the bed. She kicks off her shoes, settling herself between your slightly spread legs.

“This bringing you back?” You question, slightly adjusting yourself so your legs get closer to her sides. She shakes her head sheepishly, grabbing your right ankle.

“Hmm, maybe,” She traces your legs with the rag, using her other colder hand to rub in the wet areas, “If you weren’t so weak, I’d treat you just as well as the other night.”

Even in your broken state, you can’t help yourself. “Easier to control me when I’m like this.”

She chuckles, shaking her head, “That’s taking advantage of you, and that’s not my style.”

I guess now that she confessed her feelings for you, you had to deal with a softer Abby. One that wouldn’t take control of you in the public showers. You watch as she softly runs the lavender scented towel up and down your bruised and battered legs. She is focused, not looking at you, but her eyes trailing up and down from your thighs to your ankles.

You sit up further, leaning forward and raising your fingers down to her chin. You tilt her focus to your gaze.

“What if I want you to? Ya’ know, give you my consent?”

Her eyes darken as she settles back a bit, making your hand fall from her face. She tenses up her shoulders before rolling them back, easing herself into the idea of getting between your legs again. You smile watching her do the mental gymnastics.

Her hand settles back onto your thigh, “You’re so desperate.”

You know you got her.

Without saying another word, her hand travels up to your underwear. She softly places her hand over your mound, her thumb tracing your clothed slit. You lay back as wetness pools in the spot she’s touching, your body heating up naturally.

Before she goes any further, she pulls away and plops the rag into the warm water on your side table.

She leans forward towards you, repositioning her entire body by propping herself on her elbows right in front of your core. It was hot watching the girl you were obsessed with settling herself, still fully clothed, before your heat. You could cum at the sight alone.

She rubs small circles right where your eager clit was through your panties. Before you can even moan out for her, she slips past the fabric and dips her pointer finger into your core. As soon as she does that, it feels like the coil may snap. You didn’t even realize how horny she has you. Maybe it was the anticipation or maybe it was the fact that this time you knew her true feelings for you. Hate sex was hot, but sex when you know she’s plagued with thoughts of you when you’re not even around, that was even better.

You don’t expect her next move. Instead of sliding your panties off, she uses minimal strength to just rip them in half.

As soon as you’re fully exposed for her, she turns into an animal. She mewls at your glistening slit.

“All for me?” She questions before leaning in to pepper kisses all along the wet trail. You can’t help but whimper desperately at the action.

“Yes, Abs. All for you.”

She flattens her tongue, moving further into you. Her actions are painfully slow, taking her time to drink you up. You instinctively try to close your legs together when she starts to move faster, being overwhelmed by her maneuvers. As soon as you try to move, she’s using her strong arms to hold you down. Your legs are practically pinned to the bed, her right hand still sticky from your center.

She shakes her head back and forth, creating a whole new feeling in your stomach. You don’t even think about how loud you’re being for her, not caring if the older guy next to you hears how loud you’re getting for Abby fucking Anderson.

For not being with women often, Abby knew exactly how to treat your pussy. She decides to change it up and add her fingers back into the equation. Once her index and middle finger enter you, you know that familiar feeling heating up your stomach.

“Abby, fuck, don’t stop.”

And she doesn’t. Instead she quickens her mistrations, her lips enveloping your clit and her fingers fucking you faster. You reach down, grabbing her braid and the crown of her head and push her further into you as your orgasm crashes down. She drinks you down, taking everything you gave her.

She pulls away from you, her face wet with your slick.

“Such a good girl for me,” She continues to play with you, her fingers remaining in your heat, “Do you need me to stop? Or do you want me to give it to you like I did before?”

You smirk as you glance towards the toy that you tucked back into your side table.

“It’s in there,” You croak out, “Need you to.”

She reaches over you, her body pressed against your stomach as she opens the top drawer and grabs the strap. Your stomach is reeling in anticipation, ready to watch Abby on top you.

When she gets it out, she rolls off the bed completely. You watch as she strips off her shirt, leaving her bra on. You still are in disbelief of her body, her muscles highlighted perfectly by the glisten of sweat. She keeps her underwear on but you crave to see how wet she is.

“Take the underwear off,” You say, reaching out to touch her toned stomach, “Wanna see all of you.”

She puts the strap on, ignoring your request.

“I’m not taking any demands from you right now, sweetheart. You take what I give you.”

You loved seeing her be dominant. Seeing the appendage hang from her center makes you throb. She gets back on top of you, caging your body in with her strong arms. She nudges your nose with hers, teasing you by keeping her lips inches away from yours.

“Need you, Abs.”

She captures your lips as soon as the words leave your mouth. Her lips aren’t the only thing moving into you, her hips grind into your open core. The plastic cock does not enter you, but the mixture of her kissing you and grinding is enough to send you into maddening moans.

Her swollen lips pull away, her eyes dark as she lines herself up with your opening. She drags the cock up and down, gathering your slick before easing it inside. You see stars as it stretches you, your voice hearse and gutteral. Abby eats it up. She zeros in on watch it ease out of you and split you wide open. You’re so wet, the squelching sends her to another dimension. She settles into a pace that was agnoizingly slow, taking her time with your body. She reaches behind your legs and bends them so they wrap around her waist. The new angle allows her to hit you in all the right places.

Your orgasm is building with each stroke. She’s smiling while your mouth is set in an “o” shape, loving the reactions she was getting out of you.

“Jesus, taking me so fuckin’ well, baby,” She mewls, her hands caressing up your sides to grab onto a very important part of your body that she hardly played with this time around. You’re not wearing a bra under your tank top, so when her hands make it under the white fabric, her fingers pinch at your nipples. “You love when I fuck you like this don’t you?”

“Yes, Abby, please. I need to cum.”

She leans forward, bringing her greedy lips to yours. Since your lips are already open, her tongue enters your mouth. You suck at it, trying to get her to pay attention to your pleas. She retracts back, fucking into you harder.

“Cum for me, then, you little slut.”

The words send you overboard. You’re falling, crashing. The waves of pleasure take over every achy muscle, your body jerking forward into Abby’s sweaty upper body. She wraps her arms around you, fucking into you still as you fall apart. You don’t know the words you’re saying, you’re just loudly whispering into her ear.

Once your vision clears up, you look to the side to check your position out in the mirror ontop of your dresser. You looked like a fucked out mess, but Abby is the most beautiful thing you ever did see.

You’re trying to catch your breath, your body feeling even weaker than before. Fucking someone when you had a concussion was probably not the best idea, but god damn did every part of you feel like it was buzzing. Abby stands up, her legs wobbly from being on her knees so long.

“Do you want me to make you cum?”

She smiles at your question, but she shakes her head. She yanks down the strap, opening the side drawer and tossing it in.

“No, I just wanted to treat you. You can repay the favor when you’re feeling better.”

You start to laugh, throwing yourself back into your pillows. As soon as Abby starts to crawl back into bed, there’s a loud knock at your door. You’re both half naked, so the scramble for clothes is instanteous. You grab the first pair of pants you see and as you’re yanking them up your legs, you realize they are Abby’s.

“Coming in!”

It’s Isaac’s voice. Your stomach drops as the knob turns and you and Abby stand completely still in your spots. Her pants don’t fit you well at all, so hold them over your private area to block any eyes from it.

He doesn’t even make eye contact with you, he instantly meets Abby’s panicked gaze.

“What the hell?” He turns to you and immediately turns his back, “Well I see that you’re feeling better.”

Your blood ran cold.

“Yeah, can you uh, give us a minute?”

He doesn’t say anything, just opens the door and slams it behind him. You’re appalled that he even opened the door without confirmation of that being okay. Your eyes snap over to Abby, who’s look of fear turns into rage. You yank off her pants and toss them to her.

“We’re fucked,” She mumbles, putting her clothes on. You search a nearby dresser drawer for some sweatpants and pull down your ragged tank top. You look back at Abby to check to make sure she’s clothed before you head back to the door and let Isaac in.

You nod at her before grabbing the handle and pulling the door open. When you meet his gaze, he doesn’t look impressed. You are shocked to see another figure beside him. Manny.

“Hey there,” Manny greets, his eyes showing a bit of hesitance. “We good to come in now?”

You don’t say anything, just open the door wider for them to step through the threshold. Abby stands by your desk, her arms crossed. She tries to keep an emotionless expression, but you can tell she’s pissed. And maybe a bit nervous.

“Just checking in to see how you are,” Isaac says, his pacing leading him to one of the chairs in the corner of your room. You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Just a concussion. Some bruises. Should be good to get back on after some of the nurses here clear me.”

You try to sound confident but you’re still somewhat dazed from the sex you just had. You lean against the beam in the center of your room, trying your best not to look over to see what Abby is doing. You could still feel your cum dripping down your leg.

“Yeah I don’t think you’ll be getting back on any time soon,” Isaac says, his demeanor changing towards you, “I still don’t trust you. And now you’re sleeping with Abby? You think I don’t see what you’re trying to do?”

Your heart sinks, “What the hell are you talking about?”

Manny clears his throat, “Owen told us you were questioning the mission. That you weren’t pulling your punches. Letting some Scars live.”

“Well, he’s a fuckin’ liar!” Your voice is cracking, unsure of how to defend yourself. You were pissed at Owen and you knew that emotion would turn into vengeance. They can’t ostracize you for something like that. They can’t kill you for being empathetic. Can they?

“She never said that,” Abby finally speaks up, “I was there. Owen has it wrong.”

“Abby…” Isaac says in a warning tone, “You better not be lying for her.”

Abby scoffs, “When have I ever lied to you? Never. I am not lying for her. Owen was the one who refused your orders and got us all to leave. He said we go or we die. You shouldn’t be reprimanding her. She told him we had a job to do.”

Isaac halts in his rebuttal, thinking of what his next move should be.

Manny crosses his arms. You’re so pissed, you want to slap him. How dare he go against you and be here to watch Isaac try to accuse you of something like this? What did you ever do to him?

“Is this true?” Isaac questions, standing up to get closer to your slightly hunched over frame.

You don’t even hesitate, knowing this was all going to fall back on Owen. You wanted to see how that ended for him.

“Yes. I knew I could not let you down another time. I would never risk something like that. I’m loyal to you and this cause. I am sorry if I let you down again. I wanted to finish the job, I really did.”

You were an outstanding liar. And now you know, Abby was, too. She also had your back. Which made you like her even more.

Isaac tries to sense any deception but there’s nothing written on either of your faces to indicate that.

“Report back to me in two days,” He says to you with a very stern voice, “and Anderson, I’ll see you tomorrow morning. You’re first patrol out.”

When he’s satisfied with his interrogation, he turns to Manny.

“Well, I guess you were right about one thing.”

Manny furrows his eyebrows at the slightly shorter man, unsure what he’s talking about. “Sir?”

“They are fucking each other, but they aren’t liars,” He turns back to you and Abby, giving you two a kurt nod.

You cross your arms, watching Isaac leave the room and bump into Manny as he does. You don’t even want to deal with him right now, so you wave him out, not saying anything to him. You would deal with him later. Right now, you need a back rub and sleep. And that’s exactly what you intended to get when that door slammed on Manny’s ass on his way out.

#abby the last of us #abby anderson #abby from tlou #abby x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson tlou2 #the last of us 2 #gracieheartspedro #the last of us #tlou part 2 #the last of us part ii #tlou2

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valeisaslut · 5 days ago

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Hey Val , love of my life and light of my eyes!

I wanted to ask , I don't know if you have answered that before but does Abby exist in the Collide universe? Like is she a member from a rival band or some journalist who always shit talks like Jonah Jameson in Spider-Man?

(Btw I hope you passed your exam)

hii my love!!! first of all THANK YOU for the exam wishes, you’re so sweet omg (and i THINK i passed btw!!!!)

and second — about abby in the collide!au:

everyone in my inbox has been asking ab this: so, at the very beginning, when i was just brainstorming collide, i did think about maybe making abby a member of a rival band or even part of the fireflies just to add extra spice (aka to make ellie miserable and jealous of abby and reader flirting LMAO). but honestly??? it didn’t feel right for this particular universe. the story was already packed with a lot of emotional chaos, and i didn’t want to add unnecessary drama that didn’t serve ellie and reader’s arc.

so in the collide universe, abby never met ellie.

she never met joel. not personally.

she’s just… a very hot, very buff, very famous crossfit/wellness influencer that the entire internet thirsts over like it’s a full-time job.

you’ll be scrolling tiktok at 2am and suddenly see her casually deadlifting 300 pounds in a tank top that’s barely hanging on, smiling all sweet while giving a speech about gut health and protein intake, looking like a greek statue brought to life.

oh, and she’s also studying medicine.

because apparently lifting cars and healing bodies wasn’t enough, she had to be a genius too.

everyone in her comment section is like “HOW ARE YOU REAL???” and honestly? same.

collide au abby is also a huge fireflies fan. like huge. she has the band’s logo tattooed somewhere, but refuses to say where.

she blasts the fireflies’ albums during workouts (especially do not disturb, because she’s a menace) and posts thirst traps lifting weights with captions like “ellie williams would body me and i’d say thank you.”

and of course she knows joel miller and reader.

how could she not??

they’re basically american music royalty.

she grew up listening to reader’s early pop albums in her bedroom and screaming the lyrics into a hairbrush, then immediately headbanging to the fireflies when she started hitting the gym.

she’s terrifyingly hot. terrifyingly nice. terrifyingly strong.

everyone is obsessed.

(and reader DEFO saves a few of abby’s lifting tutorials for “inspiration.” definitely not because her biceps are hypnotizing. nope.)

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metalandmagi · 1 year ago

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A list of underrated Christmas movies for everyone who is getting tired of watching the same things every year:

This year, I wanted to make a list of a few Christmas movies that I feel are a bit underrated and under-appreciated, because I’m tired of seeing the same things all the time. If anyone has any suggestions for their own lesser known holiday movies, please feel free to include them!

Arthur Christmas: An animated movie that should be a classic, but it was unfortunately lost to time because it had a horrible marketing campaign that made it look like complete shit. Well, I’m here to tell you that it’s not complete shit. It’s actually fucking amazing.

Arthur, the clumsy son of the current Santa Claus is known for being a lovable idiot who tends to ruin everything he touches, but when a little girl’s present is accidentally left behind one Christmas, Arthur, an elf named Bryony, and his grandfather (a previous Santa…so grandsanta) embark on a chaotic mission around the world to deliver the missing present. Every character in this movie is so fucking funny and empathetic at the same time. Arthur embodies the true meaning of Christmas in everything he does. Bryony is just…on another level entirely. Arthur’s brother Steve (a strategic genius who wants to use his new technology to ensure his place as the next Santa) is a perfect antagonist that the audience still feels sympathy for. They all just have such a fun dynamic, and it’s a crime that more people haven’t seen this.

Spirited: A fairly new addition to the Christmas movie ranks, since it came out in 2022 (but it was on AppleTV+ so no one watched it). Spirited is a modern, musical version of A Christmas Carol like you’ve never seen before (starring Will Ferrell and Ryan Reynolds, who are an amazing combination in anything). If you’re tired of seeing endless retellings of Dickens' story, just watch this. It’s hilarious, heartfelt, and it brings a whole new perspective to the story in a way that I’m not going to spoil. And the songs go so hard it’s insane.

Happiest Season: A rom-com in which a woman named Abby desperately wants to propose to her girlfriend Harper over the holidays during Harper’s family Christmas party…only to realize that Harper’s extremely rich and conservative family doesn’t know she’s gay. Fun rom-com shenanigans ensue. Did I mention Abby is played by Kristen Stewart, and Harper is played by Mackenzie Davis? Also Aubrey Plaza, Alison Brie, and that guy from Schitt’s Creek everyone loves are in it.

This could easily have been a completely different movie if the cast wasn't so funny and didn’t have such good chemistry. It starts out as a standard holiday rom-com, but I was tearing up by the end of this the first time I watched it. If you’ve ever felt like you’ve been hiding your true self from your family or if you’ve felt like you’ve never been good enough for them, I think you’ll see a lot to relate to in this.

Violent Night: Another new addition to the ever-expanding list of Christmas movies, this aptly named action thriller also came out in 2022, and I feel like no one has spoken about it since, which is a crime because IT WAS SO MUCH FUCKING FUN!

When a grizzled, down on the world Santa (played by David Harbour) gets stuck in a rich family’s house while it’s being overrun by mercenaries, he has to Die Hard his way out and save the hostages (or at least the ones who are worth saving) before it’s too late. This was such a fun surprise, because violent action thrillers are so hit and miss for me personally. David Harbour is great. It’s just under 2 hours of watching shitty people get their comeuppance in unique ways. I’m so offended that it only has a 6.7/10 on IMDB, because this is a great movie to watch with a group of friends and some age appropriate beverages. Yeah, it’s not a masterpiece, and maybe my standards are low, but I had a great time with this.

Tokyo Godfathers: An anime Christmas classic directed by Satoshi Kon in which 3 homeless people (a former drag queen, a runaway teen, and a grumpy alcoholic) find a baby in a dumpster and try to reunite it with its family. This was the movie that tricked me into thinking Satoshi Kon’s other works would be just as comedic and wholesome as this one. It’s got humor. It’s got heart. It’s got twists and turns that will keep you guessing in the classic Satoshi Kon fashion. And the English dub is just as good as the sub, so you can’t go wrong either way.

Neo Yokio- Pink Christmas: Speaking of anime…I’ve talked about this one before, but I have to mention it again because it’s a staple for me every year. Pink Christmas is the Christmas special for the…anime (and I use that word in the loosest way possible) Neo Yokio…aka the one starring (and possibly made by?) Jaden Smith.

For anyone who’s never heard of it, Neo Yokio is a series on Netflix that is the closest thing to a professionally made Abridged Series we’ll ever have. The “plot” of the series revolves around Kaz, a pink haired guy who fights demons and does increasingly absurd rich people things with his robot mecha butler named Charles. The Christmas special involves Charles telling Kaz a Christmas story about the city’s Secret Santa competition for all the ultra rich people.

Look, there’s no good way to describe this one, but trust me when I say you don’t have to watch Neo Yokio to understand it, since even people who do watch Neo Yokio don’t understand it. In fact, I think it will be even funnier if you don’t watch Neo Yokio at all before watching Pink Christmas (but I encourage everyone to watch the series too, just because it’s more of the same insanity.)

Every line in it is pure comedic gold, not because it’s truly funny, but because it’s absurd and ridiculous in a way only Jaden Smith can be. I quote it incessantly while eating a Toblerone every year.

Cabin Pressure at Christmas: Molokai: Okay, it’s not a movie or even a TV special, but I love Cabin Pressure so much that I had to include this too. Cabin Pressure is a comedy radio show (not a podcast, an actual radio show) that aired on BBC Radio 4 in the early 2000s about an airline crew for the world’s shittiest airplane.

For anyone who watched season 2 of Good Omens, you might recognize the name John Finnemore as one of the writers. Well, Cabin Pressure is made by (and stars) the same person. The Christmas episode is one of my favorites of the series, and you 100% don’t need to listen to the entire series to enjoy it. It captures the humor and despair of being stuck with your co-workers on Christmas eve, but it keeps up the spirit regardless. This is another one I quote incessantly, and the whole show has become hardwired into my personality. PLEASE FIND A WAY TO LISTEN TO CABIN PRESSURE! I’m pretty sure the whole series is available on iTunes as an audiobook.

As honorable mentions, I want to include Rise of the Guardians and Klaus, because even though they have a fair amount of popularity, I still feel like people could appreciate them more. And sure, Rise of the Guardians might be more of an Easter movie, but it still includes Santa as a character, and he’s amazing.

That's all for now. Sorry these are all specifically Christmas themed, but if anyone has movie suggestions for other winter holidays, please throw them in!

#christmas movies #spirited #tokyo godfathers #arthur christmas #happiest season #violent night #neo yokio pink christmas #neo yokio #cabin pressure

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send-me-a-puffalope · 3 months ago

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also it's fun rewatching bc vanessa really does feel like such a different character than act 2 vanessa and it really hit me with how much she wears a mask and how used to it she is at this point

GOD REWATCHING THE MOVIE AND UNDERSTANDING THE PAIN ON VANESSA’S FACE DURING HER CONVO WITH MIKE AS HE DESCRIBED HOW PERFECT HIS FAMILY USED TO BE…?

I think the wiki says it best

When we’re first introduced to Vanessa, she’s snarky yet smiley. She’s got an unnatural optimism against the sullen backdrop of Freddy’s. But as Mike (and especially Abby) get closer to their inevitable deaths, Vanessa starts losing that happy-go-lucky facade as she gets more desperate for Mike to take Abby and run.

I still mean it when I say that if it weren’t for Abby, I don’t think Vanessa would have chosen to betray her father for Mike. Mike was like every security guard before him. Dosed up on medication, barely making rent, and desperate for any kind of job he could get. I think the scene with Vanessa outside Mike’s house means so much more on the rewatch when you dissect her tone when she says “You didn’t tell me you had a daughter.” She was hesitantly okay with Mike dying but Abby coming into the equation swayed Vanessa’s choice. She couldn’t let another child die at Freddy’s, not after what’d happened to the MCI kids.

And the symbolism of Vanessa redirecting William’s anger towards her instead of Abby?? saying “I won’t let you hurt her too”?? I always think of young Vanessa as having died in those backrooms too. The Vanessa that left Freddy’s day was not the same as the Vanessa that entered. In a way, saving Abby was like Vanessa saving the person she could’ve become. Or i’m just pulling shit out of my ass. Idk.

#vanessa afton #vanessa shelly #vanessa fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy’s movie #ask!!!#solarsleepless #finn!!!

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fayesia · 7 months ago

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Day 2 - praise

"Babysitter" - Sub!Mike x reader

ִֶָ𓂃˖ ִֶָ✰࿐ warnings - sex replacing money, dry humping, whiny!Mike, dom!reader, praise (duh)

ִֶָ𓂃˖ ִֶָ✰࿐ wc - 985

Babysitting was one of the highlights of your week. Going from numerous kids a week, you now only babysat one alongside your new part-time job.

Abby was your favourite by far. Her overjoyed personality was easily enough to raise your spirits whenever you felt like life wasn't going your way. Just a few hours a week with her allowed you to balance out the draining days of work.

Hearing her talk about each drawing she had done without you, the details of the specific colours used and the arrangement of each figure on the paper was a topic you listened to her excitedly talk about for ages.

You knew that's something she needed. Having only mentioned her brother a few times, you gathered that he was her sole caretaker and worked night shifts.

Recently Abby changed her hour long talks from her drawing to the nights spent at her brothers work place, you've now been told that Mike works as a night security guard for a place that shut down years ago.

Explains why he didn't hire you for every night.

Normally, the money owed was on the living room table, stamped onto it by a mug filled with the remnants of what looked like morning coffee. Yet tonight, as you grabbed your bag after putting Abby to bed, the money was nowhere, just the lone mug.

As much as you did this job for Abby, you also really needed the money. So you waited. Mike would probably come home soon, or so you thought, and within a few minutes of waiting on the couch, it seemed the tiring day had caught up to you.

Your head hitting the arm rest with your bag still hanging off your shoulder.

You're startled awake, the feeling of a hand quickly moving off your shoulder waking you.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you"

Meekly looking down at you was Abbys brother, Mike, his hands awkwardly shifting in his pockets.

"No, it's fine I should be on my way, must be pretty late"

Nodding his head he watched you stand ready to walk you to the door but you stopped.

"Hey uhm I didn't notice any cash on the table, just wondering if you mightve forgotten...or something"

You're friendly tone faltered as you saw the small smile drops from Mike's face.

"Yeah, sorry about that. i-its just that, I just got the new job, and they haven't given me my first pay cheque. I can check if I've got any cash saved in my room -"

You cut him off grabbing him by the hand as he turned to the direction of his room.

Holding onto it your thumb stroked the back of his hand, your eyes raking down his frame and back to his eyes full of stress and exhaustion.

"Listen it's fine, I work a part time so I can do without the pay for this week, at least."

You observed the breath of relief as he thanked you, a sudden urge of confidence rushing through you.

"Maybe you could pay me another way though..?"

Mike quizzically looked down at you, confusion soon erased off his face once you took another step forward now chest to chest with him.

Your lips quickly met his while you dragged him back to the couch, climbing onto his lap to straddle him. Parting from him a strand of spit connecting your lips to his, Mike's eyes were blown wide his pupils filling a large part of his brown iris'.

"Shit..this is..we can't your Abbys babysitter..fuck - wait keep going."

Mike's contradicting words were easily swayed to those of agreement as your hips dragged forward and backwards against his growing erection.

"You like that don't you, hm"

"Fuck yes please-please don't stop"

His hands had a tight grip on either side of your hips, you swiftly pulling them up and under your shirt, letting him explore your bra covered chest. His hands ferociously moved at the access to your skin, one travelling under your bra to caress the supple skin and growing bud.

With his head tilted back, you easily leaned forward, biting and kissing at Mike's neck, bruises had already begun to form. The soft pink hues were sure to transform into dark red bruises by morning.

He lets out whimpers at each of your movements, his hips now thrusting upwards to match with your own rhythm.

"Such a good boy" breathlessly you remove your shirt and unclipped your bra letting it fall to the floor, your pants joining the building pile of clothes.

Now, just in your panties, you straddled Mike again, but this time his dick was out, hard, wet, and thick. You rubbed against his erection, now it was just a thin piece of material separating your soaking pussy from Mike's cock.

He reacted even more needy to this, whines and pleas coming from his mouth.

"Please, wanna cum- please let me cum."

Panting out you placed your hand on his shoulder for balance, your hips moving more erratically.

"Wait baby, just a bit more-oh my fuck..I'm gonna come"

Looking into Mike's eyes, his Adams apple bobs up and down, they trail down your body before making eye contact again. A dazed look across both of your faces.

"Too much-im gonna cum"

Shaking your head side to side you crashed your lips against his, the wet saliva coating both of your swollen lips. Your tongue easily dominates his and its like he's become putty, you could make him do anything right now.

The kiss sends you over the edge, the coil snapping inside you, and you no longer hear Mike's whiny whimpers while your eyes are shut so tightly all you see are white flashes.

Coming back to reality, you feel thick, gooey liquid seeping into the material of your panties. Stroking the side of Mike's face, you head rest against his shoulder,

"Good boy did so good f'me"

Kinktober Masterlist

#kinktober 2024 #kinktober #smut #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt #fnaf movie #fnaf smut

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peachglazewrites · 3 months ago

Text

𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛 ⸙ 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: abby anderson x f!reader 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: suggestive content 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜: fluff, making out, literal sleeping together 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘: no use of y/n or any reader descriptions 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 10,195k

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: The one where you go back home, but not for long.

̗̀➛ masterpost

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ save/read the fic on ao3 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙸: VIII

“Could you be any fucking louder? It was a rough night last night, don’t wake her up.”

A familiar voice. Hushed, warm, a slight drawl. Perfect for reading out loud.

Abby.

It’s loud enough to stir you from your dreamless sleep, just enough for you to enter back into consciousness. Your eyes are still much too heavy to open, and you’re so comfortable right now you think it’d kill you to move, so you lay just where you are, listening to the sounds of the room.

“Rough, huh?”

Also familiar, low and masculine, teasing.

Manny. He must be home from Sibby’s.

“You making use of the room while I’m not here— ay!” Manny yelps, the sound of fabric shifting as he rubs wherever Abby just hit him.

“Shut up. It wasn’t like that,” she scolds.

“Yeah, it better not be. That’s not your girl, remember?” You don’t need your eyes open to see the shit-eating grin on Manny’s face right now.

“That’s not—She—You know that’s not true.” Abby almost forgets her volume, voice peaking before she levels it again. “You’re the idiot who made that up in the first place.”

He chuckles, and there’s rustling as he moves around the room. “I’m just teasing you, Abs. Relax. You’re cute when you’re jealous— hey!” he yelps again, and there’s a mild scuffle that ends in one final thump, like someone getting slapped across the back of the head.

“Seriously, shut up. Both in here and… out there. She really needs the rest today.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Okay, okay. Silencioso.”

There’s no more talking after that, just the shuffling of things around the room and soft footsteps on carpet. You nearly fall back asleep by the time Manny pipes up again, speaking quietly to Abby on the other side of the room.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

The sound of the doorknob twisting open, some more hushed talking, then the click of the door being closed.

Abby sighs, muttering something under her breath as she makes her way back to the bed.

Back to you.

The bed dips behind you, and you supress a shiver as cold air seeps under the covers and across your naked legs. Warmth is quick to follow in the form of Abby, strong arms wrapping around you middle as she pulls you back into her chest. You’ve shuffled around sometime in the night, and you find that you could really grow to love being the little spoon.

You hum, voice still gravelly from sleep as you clasp your hands over her own, stretching your legs out to allow hers to slot between. Abby lets out a breath as she buries her face into the back of your neck, raising the soft hairs there.

It feels so right, having her pressed so closely against you. A natural progression from the closeness you two already shared. And by the way that Abby settles into her spot behind you, arms growing heavy across your waist as she relaxes, you can tell that she thinks so too.

It’s almost a relief, being able to touch her like this, be touched by her like this-- that part of your brain telling you to pull back, she’s just a friend, you’ll freak her out partially soothed. And while you’re still unsure what this means, what Abby wants this to mean, being in her arms in this moment feels like enough.

“How long have you been awake?” Her voice is quiet, the low tone of it vibrating across your skin.

“Mm… Only a little bit. Enough to hear about you being jealous of Nora.”

Abby groans, pulling your closer as she grumbles. You can’t help the sleepy smile that works across your face.

“This is the fucking worst. Just… ignore whatever you heard.”

You wriggle around in her grip, waiting for her to loosen it just enough that you can turn around to face her. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you’re met with the delightful sight of a brooding Abby. She refuses to look at you, eyes closed, and brows pinched. Her lips are pressed together, twisted in what you’re almost tempted to call a pout.

You bring a hand up between you to cup her cheek, fingers tracing the natural contours of her face.

“Where you really jealous of her?” You ask, fingertips moving along her temple and to her brow, smoothing out the crease in it. Abby huffs, still not impressed, but letting her face soften under your touch.

“Partly. I was… upset. Disappointed.” She opens her eyes, finding your own. “Kicking myself for not doing anything sooner.”

Your cheeks colour as you look at her, catching the sincerity behind the blue. You move your hand back to her cheek, running your thumb along the high of it. “You’re sweet.”

Abby’s lips twitch, a small, flustered smile gracing her features. “Says you.”

Your eyes roll, pinching the fat of her cheek between thumb and knuckle. “Get your own line.”

She chuckles, a low laugh that does things to you that you’d never admit aloud. Smoothing your hand back out on her cheek, you pat the reddened skin affectionately.

Abby’s left smiling, wider than before, bottom lip pulled between her teeth. It’s infectious, especially up this close.

Her eyes drift from point to point on your face, taking in your features up close as you’ve done to her so many times before. Your body prickles with heat under her gaze, legs shifting against her own as you squirm.

Her warm palms flatten across your back from where her arms are still locked around you, rubbing up and down the expanse of it. A hum, a purr of content rumbles through you as she presses deep along your spine, feeling the kinks slowly getting worked out.

Your eyes flutter to find her own but they’re occupied, slightly hooded as they focus on your lips.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” she whispers, daring to look back up at you.

“Nobody’s gonna stop you,” you whisper back, inching closer so that the tips of your noses are brushing.

A small sigh leaves Abby’s lips as she leans the rest of the way, pressing them to your own.

It’s different from your first kiss. Last night was intense, the culmination of all your touches and glances. Weeks of indulgences, letting yourselves toe the line between friendship and more but too scared to properly walk over it.

This is slow. Soft. She’s got you wrapped up in her arms, safe against her chest as you kiss. Your hand slides across her jaw, down the line of her neck as you caress the skin, feeling her warmth. Your legs tangle together, ankles hooked around calves and it’s hard to spot where you begin, and she ends.

One of you pulls away when you run out of air, though neither of you open your eyes. Your foreheads touch, pressed against each other so close as you breathe the same air.

“You don’t have to ask to kiss me,” you say, murmuring into the space between you. “You just can.”

Eyes open, finding that Abby is already looking at you.

“Okay,” she says, already leaning in to kiss you once more.

You smile against her lips, pushing yourself up on one of your elbows to lean slightly over her. You use the leverage to gain control over the kiss, Abby rolling onto her back under you. You press repeatedly to her lips, lingering kisses short and sweet, before straying to smatter them across her cheeks and forehead.

Abby huffs, scrunching her face at your attack. “Little shit,” she mumbles, bringing one of her hands up to pinch your cheeks together, stopping your barrage of kisses.

Your lips press in a pout as she squishes, smirking at the faces she’s forcing you make. She gets in a few more pinches of your cheeks before you’re tugging at her hand, slipping your face free.

“I win.”

She raises an eyebrow. “We were competing?”

Nodding, you drop yourself onto her chest, cheek resting just under her chin. “I decided just then. And won.”

Abby’s arms close around you again as she hums. “And what do you get for winning?”

“A nap.”

“You just woke up,”

“Later then. And you have to take it with me.”

She chuckles, patting your hip. “Alright, deal,” she agrees, letting you lay there half draped across her chest. “But later will have to mean another day. I’ve got training this morning.”

Something tugs at you, a pull of unease in your gut. Your mouth draws a line as you stare at the wall littered with postcards. “What time?”

Abby brings one of her arms up to cross behind her head, resting on muscle. “Around ten. I try to get there early to warm up.”

Pushing yourself up a bit you turn your head around, glancing at the small alarm clock Abby keeps on her bedside.

Eight fifteen.

You might have the next few days off, but you forgot that didn’t extend to Abby. Not only does she have training today, but she probably has a patrol rostered as well, if not an upcoming assignment.

Which is fine. This is how it normally is, finding time between your schedules to see each other, even if it is just for a few hours in the gym late in the night.

But that was also before… all of this. The kiss, the fight, everything that made yesterday feel like some sort of twisted dream.

“Hey,” Abby calls softly, drawing your attention back to her. She’s frowning at you, searching your face. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just… don’t want this to stop.” You admit, drawing one of your hands to rest on her chest, along her sternum between her breasts.

“To stop?” she asks, brows pinched.

You nod, looking down at your fingers splayed across the fabric of her shirt. “It’s… good here. Nice. I don’t want to leave and go back to it all. To have to deal with everything that happened yesterday.”

Abby’s quiet, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes rocking you gently.

“You think you’ll see her today?”

You sigh, tapping random patterns onto her chest. “Probably not. She’ll most likely be with Owen for the next few days—“ Abby makes a noise beneath you, and you look up just in time to see the end of her eye roll. “But I know I’ll see her eventually. Besides, I need to go back to the apartment and… I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel right.”

You slump against her again, resting your cheek on the top your hand.

“How?”

You shrug, closing your eyes. “Feels weird, like I shouldn’t be there.”

“It’s your place too, you know,” Abby says, shifting her hand to grab your waist. “You have every right to be there. You’re there more than her, anyways.” She dips her head down, pressing her lips to the crown of your head. “Don’t let her get to you.”

“I know,” you murmur. “I… It’s our place, you know? We’ve spent nearly two years living together, all that time shifting around furniture and decorating and making it our home.” You feel the back of your eyes burning, tears threatening to spill past your closed lids. “You could point to any part of that place, and I could tell you a story about it. The-- The walls are practically painted in our friendship, and it feels so wrong to go in there knowing we’re not speaking. Like I’m defiling the place.”

You sniff, trying to suck back the tears. Abby’s hand twitches, curling further around you.

“Look,” she starts, voice low. “Mel and I, we aren’t—we don’t get along.” An understatement. “But if Mel is one thing, it’s caring. She loves deeply, to a fault. She cares about you a lot, and I don’t think that love for you is going to entirely go away-- even if I’m involved.”

A tear leaks from the corner of your eye, soaking her shirt. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. She’s…” Abby takes a breath, shifting uncomfortably underneath you. “She’s not that kind of person. It takes a lot for her to not like someone.”

You blink your eyes open, shifting to look up at Abby whose staring at the bottom of the top bunk. She looks so… far away-- sad, almost. It’s subtle, only visible in the way the muscles of her jaw clench, the downward twitch of her bottom lip.

It strikes you that they both think about whatever happened very similarly. Sure, there’s anger there-- you saw it firsthand with Mel just yesterday, and in the little jabs and eye rolls you get from Abby. But there’s always something else that lingers behind it. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost say that it looked like regret.

You both sit in it, the silence that follows. You feel a bit guilty for bringing the mood down, making things tense after a tender moment, But Abby’s hands stay pressed against you, fingers drawing idle patterns across your skin.

So, you stay.

A soft pressure against your forehead stirs you, eyes you didn’t realise you had closed, opening.

“Mm?” you groan, tilting your head up. Abby smirks, lopsided and beautiful.

“Cashing in your winnings already?”

You push yourself up, looking over at her clock. Nine thirty.

You sit up all the way, nearly bumping your head on the top bunk with your haste. “Abby, you’ve got training in a half hour-!”

She huffs a laugh, air leaving sharply through her nostrils. “It’s fine, I already told you I get there early.” One of her hands reaches up to cup your cheek, thumb swiping under your eye. “Do you know that you snore?”

You slap at her arm, scowling at her. “I do not snore.”

She grins, stretching her arms above her head. “Yes, you do.” She grunts as something pops, then relaxes back against the mattress.

Shuffling down along the bed, you swing one of your legs over both of her own. Hands move to settle on the backs of your thighs, supporting you as you straddle her. One of Abby’s eyebrows raises, a questioning but interested look in her eyes.

“You planning on making me late?” she asks, eyes flicking down to your bare legs.

Smiling, you lean in close to cup her face between your hands. “Nope,” you say, gently patting her cheek before swinging your other leg over her.

You grunt a bit as you slip out of bed, putting weight on your straining leg muscles. Those bunk beds have more than enough space for a single person to spread out and move throughout the night, but the most you can do with another person in the bed is roll on the spot. And while you wouldn’t give up your time with Abby for anything, not being able to give your leg the space it needs makes things difficult.

It doesn’t help that you forgot to do your stretches last night.

You give yourself a minute to adjust, waiting until you’re sure your knee won’t buckle underneath you before you take a step.

Abby rolls onto her side, facing you as you make your way to the short set of steps, pressing a hand to the railing when you meet it. Lifting your leg up onto the steps in front of you, you use the leverage to aid you through your morning stretches. You doubt you’ll be able to get up from the floor this morning, so this will have to do.

You’re leaning over, almost in half when you feel that familiar prickle of someone watching you. Shifting your arm, you twist your head to look underneath it, catching eyes with Abby still lounging in bed.

It almost knocks the air from your lungs how good she looks. She’s shifted her pillow on an angle, arms coming around to hold it close to her chest as she rests her cheek against the material. It’s yet to rain, so the morning sun that filters through the window highlights her freckles, making them glow a warm orange. She’s covered head to toe in them, though they’re concentrated the most along her shoulders and the bridge of her nose.

She’s smiling lazily at you, eyes hooded as she takes you in.

You clear your throat, ignoring the heat you feel trickling down your spine. “Yes?”

Abby shakes her head, corner of her mouth ticking upwards. “Nothing.”

Funnily enough, you don’t believe her. But when you hold her gaze for a little bit longer and see nothing but warmth in her eyes, you drop it.

Abby pulls herself out of bed as you’re straightening up, supressing a groan as you apply even pressure on your leg once more. It’s better now, looser, but you’re really going to have to stay on top of your PT to fix this.

Wooden draws being pulled open gets you moving, pulling yourself up the couple of steps to pad around the upper landing. You politely occupy yourself with examining the DVD collection above the plasma TV, giving Abby some privacy as she gets changed for the day.

You find they own a lot of action movies, idly running your finger over the spines of the cases. There are a few horror flicks, even a rom-com or two, but they’re all hidden between stacks of movies titled things like Reflex Overkill and Triple Vengeance.

“You can stay here, if you’d like. I’ll be home by tonight.” The bed creaks slightly as she drops down onto it, a pair of boots hooked in one hand.

Home.

It’s a passing comment, tacked onto the end of a kind offer, but it still makes your heart beat just a bit faster.

Her coming home… to you.

You clear your throat, turning away from the DVDs to face the room. You walk around the small coffee table, standing a respectable distance from Manny’s side to look at his shelves.

“I shouldn’t hide, as much as I want to,” you sigh. “I should actually use my days off and be… productive or something.”

Abby chuckles, pulling on her boots and expertly tying the laces. “Or, you could use them to take time off. Relax.” She stands up, dusting off her pant legs.

“Okay, Abby ‘I need to clock into the gym for a few hours the day I get home from patrol’ Anderson.” You throw a smirk over your shoulder, watching as she struggles to form her mouth around a retort.

“Look,” she starts, making you laugh. “Just because I don’t take my advice doesn’t mean I’m not onto something.”

Abby grabs her pack-- a much smaller one than the one she takes outside-- and slings it over her shoulder, moving to climb the steps. You turn to meet her, socked feet much quieter against the carpet than her stomping boots.

She’s wearing a faded blue tee today, the short sleeves snug around her biceps. Her cargo pants, the ones you swear she have five pairs of the exact same ones, are belted at her hips, the bottoms of the legs tucked into her boots.

“You’re good to lock up behind you? When you go?” she asks, fingers occupied with braiding the last of her hair, hair tie slipped securely over her wrist.

She must have undone it when you weren’t looking. Dammit.

Nodding, you walk with her, lingering behind her just a step as she ties the tail of her braid. “I can do that.”

Abby reaches the door, hand hovering over the handle as she hesitates. You need to take a step back when she turns back around, trying not to crowd her into the doorway.

You both stand there, Abby looking down at her shuffling feet and you chewing on your bottom lip as you scratch at your arm, and you realise-- it’s awkward.

Should you say something? Do something? You don’t exactly know what’s expected of you now that things have changed. The two of you haven’t had a chance to talk about it yet, and for some reason you think that springing the ‘what are we?’ question right as she’s about to leave for training isn’t the smoothest move you could make right now.

“Have—“

“I’ll see—“

You both look at each other, voices dying in your throats as you talk over yourselves. Abby’s lips curl into an awkward smile, and you can’t help the chuckle that escapes your own.

Deciding on a different approach, you reach for one of Abby’s hands, hooking your index fingers together, curling yours around her thicker one. “Have a good day.”

There’s something in the way that Abby looks at you, lips parted slightly as she takes you in. Her eyes bounce from your face to your hands, to her shirt that falls just above your knees. Her tongue peeks out from between her lips to wet them before stepping the short distance and pulling you close, dipping her head to kiss you.

“You sure you don’t want to stay? Coming home from a long day of training to a pretty girl sounds really nice right now,” she murmurs, pulling you in for another kiss.

You can’t help the smile that presses against her lips, bringing a hand up to pat against her chest. “You’ll be late.”

Abby grunts, kissing you once more before pulling back. “I’ll see you later?”

“You will,” you nod, squeezing her hand in yours before letting it go.

The way she smiles at that makes your heart skip a beat, and it takes everything in you to not drag her back into the room and kiss her senseless.

“Okay, I really need to go. I— Bye,” she says, leaning in to press one last kiss to the top of your head before finally opening the door, shuffling out into the hallway.

“Bye,” you call out after her, watching and laughing as she turns in the hallway to give you a small salute.

Closing the door behind her, you turn to rest your back against the cool wood. Your head makes a soft thunk as you tilt it back, looking up at the tiled ceiling. You have to bite your lip to stop the grin tugging at your cheeks.

You just kissed Abby goodbye, after spending all morning kissing and laying in bed together.

You’ve been kissing Abby.

Abby likes it when you kiss her.

Shit. You’re totally in love with her.

⸙

The door swings open with a soft push, your key still in the lock. The stale air of the dark apartment hits you, and you can’t help but shudder a little bit.

It feels… colder somehow. It’s rare that the room is left without anyone in it for an extended period of time. You’re always back at the end of your shifts, with or without Mel. Thinking about it, the last time you were away from home any longer than a day was when you were staying in the long stay ward for your leg.

You step in, taking your key from the door and pushing it shut behind you. The curtains are closed, plunging you into darkness. Pre-emptively covering your eyes, you feel around for the switch and turn it on.

Giving your eyes a moment to adjust, you turn to look over at your side of the room. It’s neater than when you left it, stumbling over Abby out of bed and getting dressed blindly in the dark. The sheets have been smoothed out; blanket tucked in and folded under your pillows. Your pyjamas that you know you left pooled in front of your wardrobe aren’t there anymore, though you think you see the collar of your shirt peeking out from your laundry hamper.

Abby.

It’s such a simple gesture, one she probably didn’t spend too much time thinking about, but that just makes it mean a hell of a lot more.

Mel’s side is more untidy than usual, you note when you look over. One of her drawers is hanging open, a pant leg draping out of it. There’s some dirty laundry left crumpled on her bed, and the duffel bag that usually peeks out from under her bed is gone.

Your heart clenches as you take it all in. Mel’s usually the neat one out of the two of you, making sure everything’s tucked away before she leaves.

She must have packed and immediately left.

Did she wait around? Did she stay behind to see if you’d come home?

You take a deep breath, scrubbing at your eyes. You’re not going to torture yourself with stupid questions.

Dropping your pack at the door, you make your way into the room, already pulling your shirt over your head.

You’d gotten changed back into your clothes from yesterday to make the short trek home, leaving Abby’s shirt folded at the end of her bed. You’d also left a note, scribbled on the back of a scrap piece of paper thanking her for letting you stay. You nearly threw it out and restarted when you signed your name with a heart, feeling like a stupid teen writing locker notes to her crush. You ended up leaving it, placing it on top of her shirt before slipping out the door.

It feels good getting changed out of your musty clothes, fresh shirt and pants cool against your skin. It’s nowhere as comfortable as wearing Abby’s shirt, but it’ll have to do.

Gathering the discarded articles from the floor, you go to throw them in your hamper but find it… embarrassingly full. When was the last time you did the washing? A couple of days ago? A week?

Sighing, you throw your clothes on the top, shooting out a hand to catch your pants as they tumble off the pile.

Looks like you’re doing laundry today.

Your eyes trail over to your delicately made bed, the sheets of which you know are overdue for a change.

Well, might as well just do the whole thing.

You distract yourself for most of the day with the washing alone, stripping your bed and hauling everything in one go down to the laundry. You hate being down here, the walls reeking of mildew and the lack of windows making it horribly stuffy whenever there’s more than one machine going.

But you have access to working washing machines and dryers, so do you really have any room to complain?

There’s not much to do while you wait for your laundry that doesn’t require you to shuffle up and down a flight of stairs, so you spend a lot of it sat on the floor outside of the laundry room, flicking through a twenty-plus year-old magazine from the rack inside. Its pages are loud as you turn them, time and humidity making them crinkly and warped. All the crosswords at the back have been completed already, and some of the pages that no doubt had pictures of models across them have long been ripped out.

All that’s left is borderline defamatory articles about celebrities that probably died years ago, and advice columns on what to do about your boyfriend whose fifteen years older than you who might be cheating.

When you can finally switch everything over to tumble dry, the noises your stomach has started to make can’t be ignored any longer. A quick trip to the mess hall right before the morning shift change-over gets you a heaping bowl of stir-fry, fresh off the wok. It’s packed with fresh vegetables coated in a thick glossy sauce and is exactly what you need after not eating in over twelve hours.

The dryer is done by the time you wander back down. Luckily no one has touched your washing while you’ve been gone, having come back multiple times to your stuff half done and thrown back into your hamper, the machine occupied by somebody else.

Lugging it all back up to your room takes some time by yourself, and you need to take a break after all the stairs, but soon you’re back in your room. Dumping the hamper at the foot of your bed, you collapse face first into your unmade mattress.

You’re full from lunch and still so exhausted from yesterday. Maybe you’ll just close your eyes for a second, take some breaths. Relax before you need to get back to cleaning up.

It’s never just ‘closing your eyes’.

You wake up with a start, a loud bang of a door slamming from outside the hall jolting you from your impromptu nap. A sliver of drool chills your cheek as you sit up, hand twitching to reach for your thigh for your knife that’s sat on top of your wardrobe for months now, collecting dust.

You sigh, blinking away sleep as you wipe your cheek with the back of your hand, grimacing at the slimy feeling.

The curtains are still drawn, but from the tiny gap up near the ceiling you can see that its still daytime. The clock by your bedside that’s always off by ten minutes tells you its just after three.

You huff, pulling yourself off of your bare mattress and scratching the back of your head, looking around the room to figure out where to start.

You should probably put all that washing away.

⸙

You get as far as folding the washing, sorting it into piles on the dining table before you get distracted.

You’re rummaging through your wardrobe, picking out all the empty hangers from between your clothes when you knock one of the precariously balanced shoe boxes you keep on the shelf above the railing. You try to catch it, reaching out your free hand to stop its descent, but the corner of the box hits you between your knuckles and you swear, letting it drop to the floor.

The entire contents spill on the carpet at your feet, the lid popping off and skidding under your wardrobe.

Nursing your hand, a welt already forming on the thin skin between your knuckles, you bend down to scoop everything back into the box, clearing it away.

You pick up a folded piece of paper laying next to your foot, flipping it over in your hand. Bold text reading Seattle Waterfront Aquarium is placed in front of a collage of various sea creatures.

This is the pamphlet Mel gave you after her first visit to the aquarium with Owen. She had tried to be casual about it, acting like it was just a platonic trip between close friends, but you could tell from the way she fiddled with the stuffed dolphin Owen had cleaned up for her that she was a goner.

Looking around you, you realise that the box was full of keepsakes, things you’ve held onto from before and during your life here with the WLF.

The bullet casings from your first fired shots during training, the master keys to one of the cafes downtown that you and Casey used to sneak off to to shoot the shit, the last birthday card you got from your parents before they passed.

Years worth of memories spread out on the carpet, a collage of everything you couldn’t convince yourself to throw away.

It doesn’t take long for the carpet to be covered, the grey pill hidden underneath even more keepsakes tucked away in drawers and boxes that you drag down with you, sitting cross legged in the middle of it all.

There’s an order to how it’s laid out, having tried your best to sort them into neat piles as you tumble down memory lane, laughing and tearing up the whole way.

A neat stack of notes that you and Mel have left each other around the apartment gets flattened between various photos and postcards from friends. Random rocks, shells, and bits of shiny glass and metal you’d pocketed over time get layered in an old jam jar you liked the label of enough to keep. The scrap of your childhood blanket, the birthday card, and a faded wedding photo from your father’s wallet get wrapped in the shirt you wore when you stumbled up to the gates of the FOB, dehydrated and begging to be let in or shot on the spot. Whatever would be the least painful.

Everything gets gently placed back into their boxes and drawers when you’re done, this time in a more organised manner. Some things get put aside to be thrown away, mostly scrap you picked up while on patrol that, now after looking at it with fresh eyes, you really didn’t need to keep.

You’re holding yourself up on your forearms, shoving one of the shoeboxes back under the bed when there’s a knock at the door. You freeze, holding yourself in place as you listen.

You’re scared for a second that it’s Mel, having come home early from wherever she is and wanting to be let in… But she lives here, has her own set of keys. If she wanted to come in, she wouldn’t knock.

Pushing yourself up from the floor, you slowly make your way to the door, pressing your ear to the wood for a moment to listen before you answer it.

Abby smiles when you pull the door open, a hint of teeth peeking behind the curl of her lips. She’s wearing something different from what you saw her in this morning, pants that look closer to a pair of sweats than military cargos hang low on her hips. Short sleeves have been exchanged for longer ones, pushed up her forearms to bunch in the crook of her elbows. A small towel is slung over her shoulders to catch the water from her hair that’s still slightly damp, already in its signature braid.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” You smile back at her, relief flooding your system. You lean your hip against the doorway, crossing your arms over your chest. “To what do I owe this visit?”

“I was thinking you might want some company, have some dinner if you haven’t already eaten?” She raises her right arm, a reusable bag you hadn’t noticed dangling from two of her fingers. You can’t see the contents inside, but the familiar and mouth-watering smell of beef stew from Isabella’s gives you a few hints.

Abby peeks past you into the room, spotting the dining table still stacked with your washing. “Or maybe a change of scenery? I think Manny’s gone tonight.” She peers down at you, eyebrow arched in question.

She looks… handsome, you think fits the most. There’s just something about her in this moment, the way her clothes sit on her, the way she’s subtly leaning towards you, over you. The way the lighting in the hallway throws shadows across her face, highlighting her strong nose and brow.

You want to kiss her. Real bad.

“Or I can just drop this off…? Sorry, I should have checked to see if you were busy.” She lowers the bag, bringing her other hand up to scratch at her jaw.

That gets you moving again, realising that you were too busy staring at the woman to actually reply. Idiot.

“I can come over, I’ve just been trying to keep busy, it’s nothing important.” You wave your hand dismissively behind you. “Food and company sound way better than putting away laundry.”

Abby perks up, the anxious slump in her shoulders straightening back out. “Cool, great.” She smiles, leaning in to press a quick, shy kiss to your cheek, her warm breath puffing against the skin. “I’ll let you lock up.”

The walk to Abby’s room from your own is short, only a couple of minutes back through a set of large double doors. You and Abby walk side by side, close enough for your hands to brush as you walk.

Feeling brave, you extend your pinkie out to bump against her own, hooking them together as they swing to and fro.

“How was training?” You ask, looking up at her.

Abby rolls her shoulders, a low pop sounding from her shoulder. She grunts and shrugs it off. “Fine. Focused on close quarters for the first half, mainly our throws and strikes. Manny and I got put on patrol last minute for tomorrow, so we ended up running through drills.”

You grimace. “I hated training for throws. Shoulder throws especially,” you say. “I’d be so sore by the end of the day.”

“You miss it at all?”

You look to her, eyes trailing her side profile. She frowns, brows pinching. “Sorry, that was probably—“

“Sometimes,” you interrupt, looking back down the hallway as you walk. “I don’t miss all of it, and I’m really enjoying what I’m doing now, but sometimes I wish I could go back, even for a day. Ride in the truck, walk the perimeters, feel the weight of my gun… Is that weird?”

She thinks, chewing on her lip as she turns the question over in her mind. “No,” she eventually answers, giving your pinkie a squeeze with her own. “I think I’d miss it, too.”

Your hands swing between the two of you, fingers locked together. They stay connected, even as Abby pushes the door open that connects your hallway block to her own. You go to pull away when you cut diagonally to her door, wanting to give her a free hand to dig around for her keys, but she holds strong and passes you the takeout bag to hold instead.

Reaching into her sweatpants pocket Abby pulls out her room key, fumbling with it one handed as she tries to unlock her door. It takes her a minute, and you have to bite your lip to try not to laugh at her efforts, but she eventually gets the thing unlocked and open.

The room is pretty much the same as you left it this morning, though things like the dishes that were piled up in the sink have been scrubbed clean and left to dry, and a bunch of Manny’s things have been kicked under his bed. It looks like someone’s tidied up a bit while you were gone.

“We, uh, don’t have a proper dining table like you do,” Abby says, kicking the door closed behind you as she pulls you into the room. She turns to face you, pulling you in gently to take the bag from your hand. “But give me a second and I can sort something out.”

“You want a hand?” You offer, squeezing her hand gently.

Abby hums, finally letting go of you to cup the side of your jaw. “You could give me a kiss, instead?”

You roll your eyes, laughing as you step closer. “Smooth, Anderson.”

Abby shrugs, a lopsided smirk lifting her lips. “It’s working, isn’t it?” she asks as she leans down, pressing in for a kiss.

You can’t help but let out a sigh at the contact, stepping in even closer to her chest. Her thumb swipes idly at your jaw while you kiss, the friction making you feel nice and fuzzy.

It’s over far too quickly, Abby pulling back to smile down at you. “Dinner?”

⸙

Abby’s solution to there being no table to eat at is to drag Manny’s beanbag down the steps, fluffing it up in front of the large stadium windows. She offers it to you with a sweep of her arm, lending it to you as you lower yourself down into the slightly lumpy material.

Dinner is served in actual bowls, the styrofoam containers already buried in the trash. The ceramic warms your hands as Abby passes one down to you, spoon clinking along the side. She’s set herself up on a throw pillow next to you, sitting cross legged atop of it, bowl of stew in her lap.

It’s nice, sitting here with her, overlooking the field through the glass of the windows. It’s raining tonight, a steady drizzle that looks like it’s been going for the past couple of hours. The floodlights reflect off the thousands of tiny droplets on the glass, looking like tiny stars that fill the otherwise barren sky.

The two of you talk as you eat, Abby running you through the changes she plans to make to her workout routine when she gets back from patrol, and you filling her in on your trip down memory lane.

“I finally put all my keychains in one place. They nearly fill a whole shoe box,” you say, dipping your head to meet your spoon.

“Keychains?” Abby asks, muffled through a mouth full of potato and bread.

You laugh, dropping your spoon to hold your hand over her mouth. “At least cover your mouth, first.”

She flushes, an embarrassed heat crawling over her cheeks as she swallows, an apology muffled behind your hand. She presses a kiss to your palm, the casualness of it making your fingers tingle.

“And yeah, keychains.” You pull your hand back, swiping a crumb off her cheek along the way. “Whenever we used to go past those old touristy places while on patrol, I’d try to find my name on those keychains they have sometimes. Half the time they didn’t have my name, so I started collecting other names instead.” You shrug, picking up your spoon to push a piece of carrot around your bowl. “I think it’s funny, having a bunch of keychains with names that aren’t yours. I have nothing to put them all on though, so I just kinda put them in random places where I had space. I found them all today though, put them all together in one box.” You smile, sheepish. “Kind of embarrassing how many I have.”

“It’s cute,” Abby chuckles, chin propped on her hand, elbow resting on her knee.

You roll your eyes, collecting some of the broth on your soup spoon. “You have to say that.”

“I’m being serious. Everyone collects something nowadays.” She tilts her head to the side, nodding up the steps to Manny’s side of the room. “Manny collects license plates from places that mean something to him. I think Jordan is trying to collect all those gaming consoles, fix them up so they’re working again. Nora’s into antique scissors. Everyone’s got something.” She shrugs, sitting up a bit straighter as she grabs the bowl from her lap. Holding the spoon to the side she tilts the bowl to her lips, drinking the last of the broth straight from the vessel.

You hum, making sure to swallow your spoonful before asking, “What do you collect?”

She lowers the bowl, swiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. “What?”

“You said everyone’s got something. What’s yours?”

Abby almost looks shy as she sets her bowl down, tucked to the side on one of the steps behind her. “It’s…” She gazes up at you, chewing her cheek as she thinks. “I’ll show you.”

Standing up from her cushion on the floor, Abby wanders over to her bunk, squatting next to her pack. Flipping open the top she rummages around, shoving things to the side to reach the bottom, grabbing and pulling out a small, leatherbound book.

She silently makes her way back over, tentatively running her thumb over the cover before offering it to you.

The first thing you notice is the weight, your hands dropping a bit when you take it. The leather is worn in places, along the spine and where the clasp to close it sits, but otherwise it’s soft to the touch— like it’s been conditioned and taken care of.

The side of the book bulges, but not with pages. A couple dozen plastic sleeves, some thicker than others, poke through at odd angles.

You gaze up at her, waiting for her to give you the go ahead before you pop the clasp, flipping open the book.

Each sleeve has six spots-- pockets that are the perfect size for the coins that nestle inside them. None of the sleeves in the book are full, the majority of them are entirely blank, but there’s more than a dozen across the entire book.

“My dad used to collect them.” Abby starts, nudging the throw pillow to butt up against your beanbag. She lowers herself down, bringing her knees up to her chest. “Back when he was a kid, he tried to collect a quarter from every single year. I don’t know how far he got, but when the state coins were released, he decided to do those too. We’ve only found seventeen of those ones so far.”

She nods to the book. “I try to keep an eye out, but coins are a lot harder to find than license plates.”

You trace your fingers lightly over the faces of the coins through the pockets, holding the book up closer to look at the intricate designs. A lot of them are detailed pressings of state birds and flowers, sometimes a notable landmark. You can see why her dad would want to collect them.

“They’re beautiful. A lot cooler than tourist bait.” You chuckle, flipping through the book again. You go slowly page by page, reading all the state names at the top of each coin. “You don’t have Colorado.”

Abby shifts closer, pressing her cheek against your bicep to look at the book with you. “Not yet. Why?”

You shrug, flipping the pages carefully back to the front. “I was born there, in the QZ in Denver.”

Inside the front cover in surprisingly neat handwriting, ‘Property of Jerry Anderson’ is written in the little box provided. Scrawled underneath it in messier handwriting, breaking out of the confines of the box is ‘and Abby’.

“I didn’t know that,” Abby says, tilting her head up to look at you.

“Not really something I talk about. Not really all that interesting, either.” You smile down at her, shutting the book and doing the clasp back up. “Don’t miss it enough to think about it.”

You pass the book back to her, fingers brushing when she gently takes it. She’s quiet as she stares down at the album, balancing it on the tops of her bent knees.

“I used to live in Colorado, too.”

“Yeah?”

Abby nods, keeping her eyes on the deep brown leather. “Yeah. My dad was stationed there, so I went with him. Spent… too many years there.” There’s an airy chuckle behind her voice, vaguely humorous.

“With the Fireflies, right?”

She finally looks up at you then, eyes flicking across your face, searching. Waiting for some kind of reaction, even a hint of one.

You can’t blame her. The Denver QZ got a lot of shit from the Fireflies for a good couple of years, multiple bombings and some FEDRA disappearances. Your parents tried to keep you away from it as much as they could, but them dying kind of put a damper in their plans. The aftermath of what the Fireflies had done was a lot of the reason why you left, the crackdowns on FEDRA law making things even more unstable. A couple thousand hungry people, high walls you can’t come and go from, and lack of community support after multiple acts of domestic terrorism isn’t a good combination, funnily enough.

You didn’t have much tying you there in the end, anyways.

Not seeing anything shifting your expression, she answers.

“He was a doctor. Real good at it, too. Had a fancy degree and everything from, y’know… before.”

“Man, a degree,” you laugh, looking down at your hands. “The most you need anymore is a steady hand.”

Abby huffs a laugh, a sharp exhale out her nose. “Yeah, well, he was pretty good at what he did. He, uh— He mentored Mel and Nora, taught them a lot of what they know.” She looks up at you, still pressed against your arm. “In a way, he’s kind of mentoring you, too.”

For someone so tough, someone widely known for being one of Isaac’s favourite soldiers, she really has a way with words. You don’t even think it’s something she tries to do, coming out and saying such thoughtful and beautiful things. It’s just how she is, how she genuinely thinks and feels.

It’s one of the things you love about her.

You can’t help but reach down, tucking a stray piece of hair behind Abby’s ear. “He sounds pretty cool,” you say, smiling softly at her.

Abby scoffs, playfully rolling her eyes. “Nah, he was a pain in the ass. He would run off all the time and I’d be the one getting in trouble for it. ‘Where’s your dad, Abigail? He’s late for a meeting’,” she mocks, lowering her voice to mimic someone. “How is that my problem? Ass,” she grunts, making you laugh. She can’t help but laugh along with you, eyes returning to the book on her knees. “But he had his moments, I guess.”

She quiets after that, sitting tucked up against you looking at the album.

You’re not dumb, having put the pieces together a while ago. Abby’s father, Jerry, isn’t around anymore, and it clearly still affects her.

Tilting your head down, you press a gentle kiss to the top of her head, hair finally dry from her shower earlier.

“Anyway,” Abby clears her throat, blinking hard as she peels herself away from your side. Grabbing her book, she stands, padding back over to her pack. “It’s getting late, you done eating?”

You nod, nudging your discarded bowl with your foot. “Yeah, thank you again for dinner, Abs. It was really nice.”

Placing a hand against the material under you, you try to lever yourself up from the beanbag. It doesn’t go exactly to plan, the lumps of stuffing under your palm shifting and giving way, making you fall back against the seat. Taking a breath, you try again, not getting any father the second time.

A snort from across the room makes you look over, catching Abby watching you from where she leans against her bunk. You huff, looking away with flushed cheeks. “You think this is funny?”

She shrugs, chuckling to herself as she makes her way back over to you. “Kinda.”

Sighing, you raise an arm up, opening and closing your hand at her as she stops in front of you. “Help me up? Or are you just going to leave me here all night.”

“Tempting,” Abby chuckles, her warm palm pressing against your own. She wraps her hand around you, forearm muscles flexing as she pulls you up with ease. You stumble a bit, not prepared for the strength behind her grip, taking a staggering step into her chest.

Abby’s lips curl into a smile as she looks down at you, eyes roaming your face. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you sigh, an embarrassed giggle escaping you. You gently squeeze her hand, the other coming to rest just above her heart.

“You’re real pretty, you know that?”

Heat prickles the back of your neck, mimicking the warmth that floods your chest. “Shut up,” you murmur, gaze flicking between her eyes and her curled lips.

Abby hums, pressing closer to you. “Maybe I will.”

She meets you in the middle, lightly brushing your lips together before pressing in fully to kiss you. Your eyes flutter shut, letting the feeling of Abby and home pull you in. The hand on her chest slides up to her neck, fingers dancing over the sensitive skin before settling at the base of her neck, holding her close. She shudders slightly, hand still clasping your own squeezing.

“Okay,” you sigh, pressing one last lingering kiss to her lips when you eventually pull away from each other. “I should get going.”

“Why?” Abby asks, tilting her head slightly in confusion.

“So you can sleep…? You have patrol in the morning.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t sleep here, tonight.”

“Abby, I don’t have any clothes—“ You try to argue.

“Borrow some of mine again.” She pecks you on the lips, drawing back only the tiniest bit. Her lips drag across yours as she speaks, voice low. “Stay. I won’t see you for the next few days.”

Your breath stutters, something warm growing in your gut. “Okay. Okay, fine. You’ve convinced me.”

Abby grins, top teeth biting into her bottom lip as she steps back, pulling you towards her bed. You nearly trip over your bowl on the floor, stumbling over it as she leads you.

“Aren’t we gonna clean up dinner, first?”

“I’ll do it in the morning,” she says, already moving the privacy screen aside to access her chest of drawers.

“Uh huh,” you sass, crossing your arms over your chest when she lets you go. You lean against the bunk to watch her dig around for clothes, smiling at how serious she looks, like she’s concentrating super hard on the task.

“Here,” she offers, handing you one of her henleys and a pair of loose-fitting sweats. “These should work.”

“Thanks.” You smile, holding the clothing to your chest. “Should I just…?”

It takes a moment for Abby to get what you’re asking.

“Oh— Uh, I mean, yeah. Go ahead. I can turn around? Or leave? Go out in the hall for a second?”

She’s cute.

You laugh just a little bit, tilting your head to the side as you look at her. “I don’t mind, it’s just like the showers. What would make you most comfortable?”

You both know this is nothing like the showers. Sure, people sometimes use the stalls for things that aren’t showering, but most people are there to get clean and go home. Nobody cares about seeing each other naked.

Getting changed in front of the girl you’ve been kissing for two days isn’t exactly the same situation.

“I’ll uh— I’ll turn around.” Abby decides, nodding to herself before turning to face the room.

Chuckling to yourself, you use the time to get changed into the borrowed clothes. Nothing will beat the shirt you wore last night, but these are pretty damn near perfect, too. Picking up your clothes from the floor, you throw them over the top of the privacy screen, hanging them for when you wake up tomorrow.

Abby’s still turned around, facing away from you when you’re done. Your socked feet make barely any noise on the rug as you walk towards her, reaching out to place your hands along her waist.

The muscles under your hands tense for a moment with the contact, but as you slide them across her front, feeling the bumps and ridges of her stomach through the fabric of her shirt, she relaxes against you. Stepping closer, you bury your face between her shoulder blades, breathing her in.

Abby hums, hands coming to cover your own where they’re locked around her. The two of you sway slightly as you stand together, rocking side to side to the sound of the rain that’s been steadily getting heavier.

You press a kiss to her clothed back, right where you’re resting. Dragging your lips up just a bit across the fabric, you press another kiss slightly higher than the last. Again, just a bit higher, across her shoulder blade.

Abby’s hands tighten over your own as you trail kisses along the broad expanse of her back and up across her shoulder, before feeling brave and pressing a soft kiss to the bare skin of the back of her neck.

She sighs, subtly tilting her head to the side as the hairs on her arms raise with goosebumps.

You press another to the side of her neck near her collar bone, slowly trailing them up to just under her ear. She shifts in place and tilts her head back, resting it against your shoulder as you pay attention to her neck, kisses lingering for longer and longer each time.

A peek of tongue swiping across her pulse point has her swearing under her breath, and you feel as she slumps some of her weight against you, trusting you to hold her up.

You smile into her neck, your own breaths picking up as you start paying closer attention to her neck with open mouthed kisses, wet paths traced by your tongue, a hint of teeth brushing against that sensitive spot under her ear. One of Abby’s hands breaks from yours, coming up to press against the back of your head, encouraging you with a choked gasp.

When she’s had enough, growing impatient with the teasing, she twists her head to the side and pulls you in for a kiss, licking at the seam of your lips to be let in. The position is slightly awkward, heads tilted at strange angles, but the feeling of Abby in front of you, arching to chase your mouth with her own is too good to complain.

You break away, lips swollen and tingling as you look down at her. Her blue eyes are blown wide, the black of her pupils hiding some of that hazy blue. Her lips are wet, shiny with spit, and the blush working up from her neck highlights the smattering of freckles and scars along her cheeks and jaw.

“You’re pretty too, you know.”

Abby’s flush deepens, and she turns her head away as she huffs.

“Flatterer.”

You smile, leaning in to nose at her cheek. “I mean it. Always thought so.”

Abby rolls her eyes, looking back at you. “You’re being sappy.”

“Too much?” You check in, searching her eyes.

She presses her lips together, hand behind your head coming down to cup the back of your neck.

“No. Just not used to it.”

You grin, leaning back in to press your lips against her cheek. “We’ll change that.”

Abby’s lips twitch up in an embarrassed smile, leaning back in to brush her lips against yours. You kiss, sweetly as you hold her close. She hums against your lips, twisting her body around in your grip to kiss you properly, chests pressed together, hands still linked.

You eventually break apart, squeezing her hand gently. “Come on, you have to be up early tomorrow, and I still need to do my stretches.”

She sighs, pressing her forehead against your own. “I hate when you’re right.”

The rug underneath you isn’t the softest, but it’s better than being directly on the floor as you stretch, running through the basics. You try your hardest to count evenly as you hold your positions, not wanting to accidently speed up because you’re desperate to climb into bed.

Abby paces around the room while you work, actually picking up the bowls she said she’d leave and placing them in the sink, filling them with warm water to soak overnight. She also lugs the beanbag back over to Manny’s side, kicking it back into its corner before standing idly at the light switch.

After brushing yourself off from the floor, you crawl into bed, shuffling to the far side against the wall. You begin to pull back the sheets and adjust your pillow, getting ready to settle in when something familiar on the wall catches your eye.

Tacked up amongst the postcards, up near the top bunk, is a scrap piece of paper.

Abby,

Thank you for letting me stay last night.

Yesterday sucked was a lot, and I didn’t know who else to turn to. I’m glad you answered the door.

I meant what I said.

A heart punctuates your name scribbled at the bottom.

The overhead light switches off, the blue glow from the stadium floodlights being just enough to guide Abby back to the bed. The rain casts little shadows across the floor as it hits the windows, making a low drumming sound that fills the silence of the room.

You slip under the covers as she shuffles over, pulling back the blankets for her and opening up your arms. Abby smiles and she lowers herself down, grunting when her sore muscles sink into the mattress. She pushes herself up the bed, curling up in your arms.

She buries her face in the crook of your neck, arm slinging across your waist to curl into the fabric of your shirt. Your arms come around her, holding her close as you smooth your hands up and down the expanse of her back.

Cool fingertips brush along smooth skin near her hip, the bottom of her shirt rucked up from shuffling over to you. You tentatively slip your fingers under the hem, resting just above her tailbone. When you don’t hear or feel any signs of discomfort you inch up, beginning to massage the stiff muscles of her back.

Your hands-- once the calloused ones of a solider, now the nimble ones of a medic—slowly work higher and higher, until you’re smoothing at the muscles of her impressive shoulders.

Abby sighs against your neck, deep and relieved, pressing a soft kiss to the skin as she sinks into the mattress, melting under your hands.

“Night, Abs,” you whisper, returning the kiss to the top of her head.

Her reply is slurred, barely intelligible as she presses closer, her breaths already deeper as she tumbles into sleep.

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#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby x reader #the last of us x reader #tlou x reader #reader insert #ao3 #peachglazewrites

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lizzieisright · 2 years ago

Note

if you wrote that backstory idk dude maybe i’d kiss you

alpha abby >>

Honestly I wrote it and for some reason it gives me Pride and Prejudice vibes idk idk

alpha!Abby x omega!reader, just two paragraphs of smut (MDNI), alpha!Abby is sweet eventually, mention of heats/ruts, written on a knee without editing, backstory for these idiots.

-/-/-/-/-/-

When Abby meets you she is baffled. It sounds incredibly arrogant but the fact that her alpha presence doesn't do shit to you offends her. Abby is not used to an omega who doesn't try to impress her and she knows she is being the worst fuckboy stereotype but it genuinely throws her for a loop. You just look at her like Abby is not, well, fucking Abby. Like her scent doesn't make you want to arch your back and present yourself for her.

And listen, Abby is self-aware enough that she knows not all omegas will like her. It's just. It never happened before. And Abby also is not an idiot who will try to win you over or something - yeah, her ego was bruised but that was just how life is.

The problem with this starts later, when you're paired for patrol. Abby is so used to being bossy and barking at everyone because omegas will listen and alphas won't dare to challenge her; she doesn't really care if she is being polite to you.

But you care, judging by your raised eyebrows and angry looks when Abby gives you orders like you're her little soldier.

And then Abby accidentally makes you absolutely fucking hate her, because she grabs you. She tugs you like a ragdoll to get you out of what she thought as a dangerous way, and she ends up with a knife at her throat.

You look at her angrily and press your knife harder until she gets the hint, and Abby lets you go.

"Do that again Anderson and I'll kill you. Don't fucking touch me like that." You growl and Abby, instead of being a normal person, frowns and gets aggressive.

"You were going to fall, idiot, I was saving you." Abby huffs and gets closer, daring you to challenge her.

"I don't need you to save me." You growl in her face, not backing down, and Abby's eyes flash red, because omegas don't speak to her like that.

You stare back at Abby even though it's hard, standing up to an angry alpha with such suffocating presence is very fucking hard, but you're also very pissed off, so you stand your ground even though it physically hurts to defy an alpha, but you don't care about pain right now.

The stare down ends because there's a crack in the woods and you both get alert, looking around. You grab your knife tighter and Abby instinctively moves to shield you, but nothing comes out to attack you.

So you finish your patrol in total silence.

That's how you become easily the only omega in the stadium who doesn't like Abby Anderson. The fact that Abby is also extremely attractive and her scent is intoxicating only fuels your spite. The fact that her dick is so good there's fucking competitions to spend her rut with her only makes it worse.

To be fair Abby looks miserable in pre-rut so you find some sympathy for her. But not after you hear another omega bragging about how good Abby is in bed. Then you're back to despising her.

Abby's presence is something you have to train yourself to get used to, refusing to get under her influence, but it gets so much easier once you can let her stare you down across the room and be absolutely calm about it. Abby stares at you a lot, especially if she thinks you fucked up, but you stare back and don’t let her win this. It’s not even aggressive or challenging by this point and it feels like some kind of ritual between you two.

Abby, on the other hand, learns to be more nice to you. She is polite to you and she doesn't touch you again. Sometimes you can even have a normal conversation. You hate it, because Abby is not a total asshole of an alpha and you don’t have an excuse to be mean to her, even though you really want to - it’s the only barrier you have to keep yourself from falling for her. But Abby is genuinely trying and not because she wants to knot you, but because she can't stand having you in distress around her.

For some reason Abby cares for you and your well-being, she wants you to be comfortable in her company, and yeah, this is weird and Abby’s never felt like that, but when she sees how your shoulders relax when she gets closer to cover you during patrol Abby feels like she won this life.

Then your heat comes. It comes so fucking unexpected you have trouble breathing, panting and chocking on air as you desperately try to make your way to a safe space, because you know all too well what can happen when there's an omega in heat walking around.

But it's so fucking hard to walk and you feel your slick coming down your thighs and everything fucking hurts because you need an alpha, so you clutch your knife and barely make it to some fucking corner to catch your breath.

That is how Abby finds you. She caught your scent and all her senses went into overdrive because you're in heat and you're in distress and all Abby hears in her head is HelpHelpHelpMakeitgoawayHelp and she is making her way to you, her eyes are red because she can't fucking control it now, you're hurting and she needs it to go away and make it better-

You're sitting on the floor, panting, and you hold your knife right in front of your face with trembling hands because this is not happening. Abby smells like heaven and this is not happening.

"Fuck." Abby sighs and she reacts way too hard to your scent, because your distress just got worse. "I won't hurt you, let me help." Abby pleads and you use your legs to get away from her, pushing yourself back into a corner but there's only a wall.

"Stay the fuck away from me." You growl and clutch your knife harder. "Get the fuck away, Abby."

You're terrified and Abby can't handle it. She's never seen an omega in such a state, and her brain immediately shifts into protective mode.

"I'm not going to touch you." But fuck she wants to. "You need to get to your room. I'll help you."

"No-no-no-no. Leave me alone." But you feel your arms grow weaker and the pain getting worse.

"I'll make it better, okay?" Abby's eyes are red and you can hear it. You can hear it in her voice, what she is going to do and you start crying.

"Abby, no please, no. Don't do this." You plead her, but Abby gets closer to you anyway.

"Relax." Abby says in her alpha voice and you immediately go pliant against your will. Your brain is fuzzy and you feel so much better, the thoughts are only filled with alphaalphaalpha and how good Abby smells and how good her hands feel on your waist and knees and you cling to her like she's a life line. "I'm not going to do anything. I'll carry you to your room and that's it, okay?"

"Alpha." You plead and bury your nose in her scent glands and Abby has to stop and take a breath and it only makes it worse because the air is filled with your smell.

But then Abby is hit with your terrified teary eyes from a minute ago and she doesn't want to be someone you're so afraid of. So she carries you to your room and hopes your own place will ground you.

Your place makes it worse for her though, because your scent is everywhere and you're still clinging to her and calling her alpha and she doesn't know what to fucking do.

So Abby does what humans do to cats: she carries to the bathroom and puts your head under the stream of cold water, which actually works and you spit curses at her.

"What the fuck!" You scream and Abby lets you go. You're sitting on your bathroom floor, wet and cold and angry, but your head feels clearer. You look up at Abby, whose eyes are red and she is so tense you see veins on her arms. You tense too: you have no idea what to expect. "Abby-"

"I won't hurt you." Abby growls and you search for your knife again. "I just. I can't leave you."

And Abby looks almost guilty. It clicks and you feel affection overflowing your heart despite your better judgment - now that your mind is on heat leave you can't fight your feelings. Abby is so deep in protective mode she literally can't move because in her head she is a threat too - you knew it could happen, you just didn't expect it to happen to Abby.

"Relax, alpha." You tell her to free her from it, and Abby relaxes immediately. "Now can you leave?"

Abby knows it's the right thing to do - you aren't even friends and you're vulnerable and she is a threat whether she wants it or not, but it still hurts.

"Were you- did you really think I'd do something to you?"

"With alphas you never know." You answer vaguely and honestly? It hurts even more. Abby doesn't want to be that kind of alpha to you.

What Abby can't stop herself from doing is sitting outside your door like a dog and guarding you during your heat. Your words really hit her and her instinct to protect you skyrocketed.

And you know she is there, the heavy suffocating scent filling your nostrils as you desperately cling to your pillow, but Abby smells so strongly of protection it actually eases up the anxiety you have when you're alone in heat and you can't bring yourself to go up and tell her to fuck off.

(You're also afraid you'll jump Abby the moment you see her again because Abby is the best alpha you know and right now she is sitting outside your door protecting you)

(Abby sits there for three days and the way your scent is full of safe keeps her sane, makes it all worth it)

After that you awkwardly thank Abby and she awkwardly apologises for scaring you. The ice between you melts and now when you're paired for patrol it is actually fun. It's still strange to have Abby in constant protection mode, but now you find it sweet.

Now you find her heavy scent comforting and safe and you seek it out every time you're close. Abby is no better, her head fucking snapping in your direction every time she smells you.

So the awkward courting begins. Abby cautiously attempts to care for you, scared to end up with a knife to her throat again, but you're actually way nicer to her now, taking her jacket when she offers, letting her carry things for you, letting her re-check your guns (after asking if she can). Abby feels hopeful.

Abby asks you out, ridiculously nervous because you can reject her without a second thought, but you actually say yes.

You go on a date and Abby barely keeps her hands off you, but she gets close enough for your scents to mix and you're not stupid, you notice it and snuggle into her side, rendering Abby speechless.

She feels like an idiot around you.

On the third date Abby kisses you and your scent gets immediately happy and you refuse to feel embarrassed about it because Abby smells the same.

It'd been a month since you started dating and you notice how aggressively territorial Abby gets, how her scent gets heavier and how often her eyes become red all of a sudden. It means Abby's rut is close.

Abby is exhausted and you do as much as you can to provide comfort for her, desperate to make her feel better.

"Your rut is coming."

"Yeah."

"What's the plan?"

"You don't have to spend it with me." Abby tells you, because she is afraid she'll hurt you. Alphas in rut are rough and unrelenting and Abby is not an exception. "Hell, I don't want you to, if it means you'll get hurt. Especially since-" Since you haven't had sex yet.

You don't know why, but that is just the pace of your relationship and you're fine with it. What you're not fine with is Abby hurting.

"I don't think you'll ever hurt me. I'd like to be there with you, if you're okay with it."

"You won't be able to stop me."

"Don't threaten me with a good time." You smirk, but Abby's eyes turn red and you feel yourself getting wet.

"Fuck, sweetheart." Abby buries her face in your neck and you shiver, because her teeth are close.

That's how you end up face down ass up on Abby's bed, getting fucked so hard you'll have bruises just from Abby's thrusts tomorrow, not counting her grip on your hips. The room is so heavy with her pheromones you're almost choking on it, your head is empty except for alphaalphaalpha breedmbitememarkme and Abby's low growling of "mine" at every thrust, her fangs scraping over your neck.

And you think you can't take it anymore because Abby is relentless, she is rough, but then her grunts start to get louder and her pace gets sloppy - she is close and you spread your thighs because you know what's coming.

Abby knots you and it's so fucking much, she is big enough as it is and her knot is even bigger but it makes you see stars and you scream her name. Abby growls into your ear and you can’t help but arch into her, submitting to her.

Later, when Abby catches the break from being insanely horny, she assesses all the damage she did to you and it makes her sad - she doesn’t like the bruises on you. She gently kisses all of them as if she is apologising and you just bask in her touch and care, smelling so happy and satisfied Abby starts to feel better about it.

Can you sit properly after Abby’s rut? No. Do you enjoy the sting of pain every time you sit? Yes. Does Abby follow you like a puppy to make sure you're okay? Yes.

Abby is still the same intimidating mean alpha but now you like it. Now you watch her stare down alphas who even dare to turn their noses in your direction and you get happy. Abby is possessive as fuck and she makes sure you always have her scent on you and you're no better, wearing her clothes just to make her wear it after you so Abby'd smell like you, but both of you don't rush with the mating bite until a year later when Abby is gently taking you apart during your heat and you sink your teeth into her shoulder.

You cry because you think Abby'll get mad at you (fuck you heat hormones for making you so sensitive, you get so embarrassed later), but Abby kisses you and tells you how happy you made her and how she can't wait to have you sober to give you your mark.

You carry Abby's bite on your inner thigh.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #alpha!abby #abby anderson #abby tlou #idk this is stream of consciousness #but I enjoyed writing this a lot #did I steal some dialogue from my alpha oc? yes I did

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firewasabeast · 5 months ago

Note

"and if it's chimney you can also have tommy point out chimney only remembers tommy's number when he needs a life-saving favor. sorry, I'm pissed about that one. I really thought we'd get some tommy&chimney friendship."

Wow I feel this like! This season was like Chimney and Tommy didn't know each other. Hen I understand, but Chim and Tommy?! They have history together

The post-breakup made me mad at part of 118. Sure, I understand them wanting to protect Buck, but in this case, what are they protecting Buck from? Did Buck tell them how the breakup went? Did they try to find out Tommy's version? These characters used to discuss everything about their personal lives: we saw Chim talk about his relationship with Tatiana, Hen talk about how Karen felt FOMO, Eddie talk about Ana (even though pressured by the others), and Buck talk practically everything about Taylor and Abby with them... We even saw Buck talking to strangers about the Albert/Veronica situation... So now they don't talk about these things anymore, and Tommy, who without hesitation flew a helicopter into the middle of a hurricane with them, risking his life and job, is now like he's just a stranger who will disappear? The others don't care? After being in Buck's life for the last 6 months, being there for Chris' surprise birthday party and in the waiting room while Denny was in surgery? Sad.

I cannot express to yall enough how shit the writing has been this year!

Anyway, let’s remember to send our grievances to abc! There’s no limit on how many times you can send stuff in!

#I agree with everything you said 100%#bucktommy #911 #tommy kinard #evan buckley

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gojomamashouse · 1 year ago

Text

I certainly can. And I did. Well, sort of. I took some creative liberties with this one. Crossposted on Ao3.

Warnings: 18+ Content Vaginal sex, Praise kink, Loss of virginity (both reader and Mike), soft!dom Mike.

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x Reader

Summary: From the name written on your sneakers to the hickey on your neck, Mike had left his mark on you in more ways than one.

Words: 5.8k

According to fandom wiki, Mike is 25 in the movie. The timeline of this story is based on this fact.

In Permanent Marker

1995

Mike has a problem. An even bigger problem than his annoying younger sister, or the bills he cannot pay that keep piling up. That problem is you, his new next-door neighbour.

It all began when he had been unloading the boxes from the car, calling out to Abby as she disappeared to explore the new house. The place was small, but enough for the two of them. More importantly, it was as affordable as it could get, given the savings his parents left behind, the money from the government, and his new job. That was all he really needed.

"Need help, there?"

A voice broke him from his thoughts, a voice belonging to you. He did a double take as he looked to his side towards you, nearly dropping the box in shock. He blinks as if you're nothing more than a hallucination, induced by his lack of sleep, dehydration, and the summer heat. Because there was no way that you were standing there. Someone his age. Someone so attractive. Someone exactly his type and talking to him. You take notice of his shocked expression.

"My folks and I saw you from the window," you point to the house left of his, "thought I could lend a hand.”

"Yeah. Yeah, uh," he nods eagerly, breaking eye contact as he fumbles over his words. He looks back towards the house, "If you could watch my little sister while I unload these. She’s somewhere inside…”

“You’ve got it,” you flash him a smile.

—

He’s sweating and close to passing out as he places the last box down in the front hallway, bracing himself against the wall as he catches his breath. He then looks around. There’s no furniture yet. He couldn’t afford movers to help move the couch or the kitchen table from his parent’s old house, instead opting to sell the furniture and find cheaper options once moved in. That meant he’d be eating on the floor until he had time off work again. This also meant he’d have to take Abby table-shopping and listen to her complain every time she picked something out of his price range, then cry the whole drive back home. He groans to himself, annoyed by his endless stream of thoughts. He supposes that’s just adulthood, now. There’s always something to think about.

He hears giggling from down the hallway, grabbing his attention enough to raise himself from the wall. He creeps towards the sound, peeking past Abby's door. A box was open on the floor, toys and crafts scattered across the carpet. You sit cross-legged in the middle of the room at Abby’s side and she’s pointing to her drawings, chattering away.

He wonders how you make it look so easy.

—

"I don't like it here." Abby tugs on the leg of his jeans, "Can we go back?"

It’s the last thing Mike wants to hear the morning after moving in, his back and arms still sore from all that he carried. He looks down to see her lips were pulled into a frown, her brows furrowed. He's leaning against the kitchen counter, drinking instant coffee from a mug he'd managed to dig out from one of the kitchenware boxes, staring at all the shit he has left to do. And, of course, his sister could never let him do that in peace.

"This is where we live now."

"Why?"

"Because it is."

"I don't want to live here."

And I don't want to work shitty hours for shitty pay just to afford this dump, he thinks to himself.

Still, he can't blame her. The place is a downgrade. The toilet in the main bathroom doesn't really flush, her room is half the size of the one at their parent's old place, and he’d discovered more than a few suspicious stains on some of the walls and carpeting around the house.

"Well, that's just too bad."

"I want to go back!" She shouted, her little fingers digging harder into the fabric of his jeans, now trying to tug his leg. He tries to nudge her off, shaking his leg just enough to make her lose her grip, but she doesn't budge. He sighs to himself.

She's at that age. Five years old, and a complete menace. She was smarter than she looked and had begun to realize that sometimes creating a fuss could get him to bend the rules for her, which now meant she was constantly defying him. Constantly picking a fight. Constantly whining about something. And as much as he loved her he could not stand to hear another tantrum, especially not this early in the morning.

"Stop it, Abby. I'm not dealing with this today."

"Nu-uh!"

She screams when he tugs her away with his hands, lifting her in the air while she tries to kick and shove him away. He knows he's bound to have bruises from where she kicks his torso and scratches where her nails dig into his skin. Had he any energy left in him, he might have been tempted to raise his voice at her. That's one good thing to come out of his restless nights, at least.

The doorbell rings and she's still whining when he places her down on the floor. He kneels to her level, hands on either of her little shoulders.

"We can talk about it later, okay?" He lowers his voice, desperate for her to be quiet. Anything for her to be quiet. "Behave. And quit being such a baby."

His words were enough to render her silent, by some miracle, and so he goes to the door, only to see you standing there. You . He knows he's ogling again and he hates himself for it but he can't help himself, not when you're so pretty. He leans against the doorframe, clearing his throat.

"Hey, uh. What are you doing here?"

"Good morning to you, too. Thought you might need more help," You lean forward, taking a peek inside the place and noting all the boxes, "Judging by all this, I guess I thought correctly."

"Guilty as charged," he holds his hands up, cherishing the sound of your laugh.

The moment doesn't last long. He fails to notice that behind him, his sister is teary-eyed, her lower lip quivering. You furrow your brows, about to say something, but the little girl beats you to it.

"You— you jerk!" Abby finally lets out, and you stand dumbfounded at the door, watching the crying girl. She turns to Mike. "I hate you!"

She runs off to some room somewhere and slams the door, the distant sound of sobs easily heard from down the hallway where you two stood. While you stood there in shock, Mike had grown used to these outbursts, but it didn't leave him entirely unfazed. There was still a tug on his heart like there always was.

"She's just having a moment right now," he sighs, his fingers rubbing his temples, "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"You're not going to go and talk to her?"

"She hates me. Didn't you hear?"

"You know that's not true," you shove past him, your hand lingering on his shoulder for a moment longer which certainly did not go unnoticed, "come on."

"What do I even say?"

"You're going to go apologize, dumbass."

That's how he found himself standing outside his sister's door. He was about to simply walk in, until you stopped him, your hand on top of his as he reached for the knob.

"Knock first."

He would've asked why but he's too distracted by how your little touches keep making his face grow hotter, so he simply nods and does as you say, raising his fist to the door. He hears Abby's sobs halt the moment he does. He looks to you, and you nod, as if to signal him to start talking.

"Abs?"

There's a sniffle. "Go away."

"Look, I'm sorry for hurting you. Just open the door." You toss him a glare, "Please?"

There's a pause.

"Liar," she hisses, "you're only sorry 'cause they're making you."

Mike is about to retort, but you raise your hand to silence him.

"Abby, we both want to make sure you're alright. Could you please open the door so we can talk?"

There's a pause and then a shuffle, the sound of her moving from the floor to go and open the door. She's red in the face, snot-nosed and teary-eyed. Mike's heart can't help but break at the sight. He's an idiot. A complete and utter idiot.

"I-I'm not a baby," she blinks at Mike, lifting her arm to wipe her snot on her sleeve, "Y-you're always s-so mean to me. I hate that."

"I didn't mean it. I just, uh... I say stuff sometimes." He frowns, a trembling in his voice. He speaks softly as if it will compensate for all the harsh words spoken prior, "I promise I won't say mean stuff anymore. Honest."

"Pinky promise?"

She raises her pinky finger.

"Yeah. Pinky promise."

He raises his own, letting her little finger curl around his. She quickly wipes her tears away.

The rest of the day is spent doing whatever Abby wants. Mike discovers quickly that you seem to love spoiling her. You take her to the park, let her unpack all her toys and leave them tossed all around the house. You end up ordering pizza at her request, as well, and by the end of the day, she’s saying she wishes you were her older sibling instead. Though it’s said jokingly, it still pierces him through the heart.

The day ends with a tired Abby curled up in her sleeping bag on the floor of her room. Now he's with you, you sitting atop the counter at his side while he places the leftover pizza slices from the takeout boxes into ziplock bags. If he had it his way, the day would have ended with all the moving boxes being unpacked, but he supposes a happy Abby makes his life a hell of a lot easier than an unhappy one.

"She's a lot easier than most her age."

"You're kidding, right?"

"I'm the oldest ' kid ' in this neighbourhood. I've babysat for practically every family around here," you sip your drink, "she was very quick to forgive you. Not just any kid does that."

Garett had been the same way. Every prank he played, every cruel joke, he forgave him for because that’s just what older brothers do. The difference being that he was a child back then, not an adult. He may be Abby’s older brother by blood, but he needed to be more than that now. She needed him to be more than that.

He finishes packaging the last slice and throws the leftovers in the fridge. He's now fidgeting with the sleeve of his hoodie— a poor choice of clothing for the midst of a summer heat wave, but he didn't exactly have lots of options. He supposes he should add clothing shopping to his already long to-do list.

“What am I doing?” He says aloud, “I can’t do this.”

“Don’t say that.”

"This always happens. I get annoyed, she gets hurt, and it’s going to happen again.”

"Nobody's made for this at our age,” you gesture around at the house, then at him, “You're bound to fuck up, that's just inevitable."

"Yeah, thanks,” he deadpans.

"That’s not what I meant. You live and you learn, that's what you do. No one's perfect but we can always try.”

“What if me trying isn’t enough?”

“It’s better than not trying at all.”

He looks back down the hallway, at Abby’s door. Does she care that he's trying? Does she know how much he has sacrificed to give her a semblance of a normal life? He scoffs at himself internally. She's a child, of course she doesn't. That's not her fault. It’s not her responsibility either. She’s the kid, and he’s the adult now. It’s unfair on both sides but that’s the way things are.

"Thank you. For all the help, and everything," He finally says, turning to you.

"That's what neighbours are for, right?" You’re hopping off the counter. It was dark outside now, and fair to assume you’d be on your way home. Only, you halt in your tracks for a moment. "Wait, one more thing."

You pull out one of those disposable cameras from the pharmacy. It’s scratched and beaten up, evidence of its use. He freezes up when he feels your arm draping around him to pull him into the frame and snap a quick picture. He blinks from the flash, and you laugh at the way his eyes squint, shoving the camera back into your pocket.

"The hell?" He raises a brow, "that's going to be an awful one, just so you know."

"I don't care if photos look good. It's about the memories and all that." you roll your eyes, "Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early. We're going to finish unpacking.”

You're out the door before he can even reply.

—

He starts to learn who you are, piece by piece. He learns that you don't know a single thing about keeping your curtains drawn shut and that you're completely oblivious to how he's seen you in your room in your pyjamas at night, talking on the phone while you twirl the telephone cord around your finger. He learns that you go to college out of state, which is why you're so insistent on taking photos of everything you can because you get homesick so easily. He learns, that because of that, he won't be seeing you after the summer for many months and struggles to figure out why that thought leaves a dreaded ache in his heart.

The ache only grows the more time he spends with you, whether it’s with Abby or one-on-one. He thinks he’s going to die when he sees you packing up your car at the end of the summer, but offers to help you out regardless.

"Have fun," he says to you, hating how disingenuous the words feel on his tongue.

Your car is now packed, and you're on the steps, him standing on the stone path below. You look up at him with a smile while you're lacing up your shoes. It's those damn shoes you always wear, always torn up and dirty and desperately in need of being replaced. He's not one to talk when it comes to proper footwear, but he swears they are only a thread away from being torn apart.

"I'll try."

You finish doing up your laces, and pull out a permanent marker from your pocket, handing it to him. He gives you a confused look.

"Sign it."

"What?"

"My shoe," you repeat, and he takes notice of your sneakers, varying names written along the white rim already, all in different colours and sizes. "It's something I've been doing since high school. Just to remember."

Knowing how you treasure your photos, it only makes sense to him now. He kneels down and signs it in the black marker, his handwriting atrocious, but evidently an effort to make it appear more legible than normal. He lets go of your ankle when he's done and you smile, raising it to look at his handiwork.

"I tried."

"Hey, it's not that bad."

"It's pretty bad."

You both laugh, and you stand up finally, stepping down to his level. He tries not to show his shock when he feels your arms wrap around him, pulling him tightly towards you. He happily accepts the embrace, soaking up the affection like a dried-out sponge.

"One last thing," you whisper to him, and he feels your hand slip something into his pocket. “Look at it later, ‘kay?”

"I'll miss you."

"I'll be back."

And though he wants to believe you will, he can't help but stare into your dark windows that night, counting down every day until your return. Not everyone in his life has, after all.

He checked his pocket the moment you left earlier that day. It was the photo of the two of you in his kitchen, from one of the first days you met. It was blurry and dark but he could make out the sight of your smile and his face of confusion. The back side has the date written.

He places the photo on his nightstand and rolls over on his back, staring at the Nebraska poster on his ceiling. He took his meds not long ago, his eyes drooping, but his mind unable to stay focused, his thoughts drifting towards you.

—

1996

The last time you called his home line, you said you'd be home in a few weeks, but he still hasn’t seen you yet. The light in your bedroom window remains turned off. He wishes the thought of seeing you again didn’t have him so restless.

Today is his birthday. A whopping twenty-one years old. If he were a normal person, he'd be out with friends, pouring liquor down his throat until he couldn't drink anymore. Instead, he went to work, then returned home late to greet the babysitter on the couch, her middle school textbooks sprawled on the coffee table and Abby already in bed. She’s gone the moment he hands her a twenty-bill, peddling away on her bicycle.

Though the house now has furniture, it still feels so empty. He sits alone on the couch, the sounds from the TV turning into a soft humming. He doesn’t want to think about the dirty plates in the sink or Abby's toys and crayons that littered the living room floor.

His heart skips a beat when he hears a knock on the door. He tentatively gets up, swallowing dryly. It couldn’t be you. You would have called him or said something, right? He’s never been so thankful to be wrong in his life because when he sees you standing there on his steps, in those torn-up sneakers with his name on them, with a six-pack of beer in your hands, he’s immediately grinning like a child.

"Where the hell have you been?" he looks down at the alcohol in your hands, "what's this?"

"A gift for the birthday boy," you grin, "twenty-one. That's a pretty big age."

"Are you twenty-one yet?" He raises a brow.

"You want the beer or not?"

"Alright, alright," he looks into the house, the place dead silent save for the TV. "Let's go out back. Abby has school tomorrow. I don't want to wake her."

Sharing the company of another had become so foreign to him at this point that he forgot how nice it feels to be human. To feel the summer breeze through the fabric of his t-shirt, to feel the condensation from the cold can drip down his fingers, to feel the warmth of the alcohol sitting nicely in his stomach. Hell, he doesn’t even mind how shit the beer you bought tastes, though the initial shock causes him to cough the moment the first gulp is downed.

"Don't tell me you actually waited until now to have your first drink," he hears you say.

"I didn't, but I don't drink that much. Especially not this," he eyes the brand name on the can.

"I was tired of college parties and all the watered-down shit alright? I needed something different."

"Must be exhausting . Getting invited to so many parties."

"Oh, shut it," you shake your head, "trust me, college is lonelier than you think."

He stares down at your sneakers, noticing that not a single new name has been written. One part of him wonders how anyone could not want to become your friend. The other part of him is proud that he’s the last person to sign it, his name standing out compared to all the other old, faded-out ones.

"That's one thing we have in common."

"I take it life's not so great, either?"

"Abby has been acting out less but now she barely talks.” He sighs, “It's... another thing to think about."

There’s a pause.

“Then don’t think about it. Not tonight.”

“Easier said than done,” he rolls his eyes.

"Come on, it’s your birthday and we’re out here moping on your back porch. That's no way to celebrate."

"What do you suggest we do?"

"Something. Anything. I dunno, you're the birthday boy. What do you wanna do?"

"I..." his eyes trail down to your lips and stop. He knows he's being obvious but he's tired enough to where he doesn't really care anymore to hide it. He sees how your brows knit together, and he looks away. "I'm fine doing this."

"That's not what I asked." He feels your hand creep over to his, flat against the porch. Your touch is electric. He allows himself to look at you again. Your eyes are determined and your touch is intentional, he's sure. "I asked what you want ?"

Hesitantly, he lets his hand intertwine with yours. He's barely able to meet your eyes, embarrassed by his cheeks which he knew were most likely pink by now.

"I want you."

His other hand raises to your cheek, his cold hand against warm skin. His eyes speak to you, though his mouth says nothing, asking for permission. You lean in yourself, tired of his hesitation. You can taste the alcohol on his lips, his mouth so tender and sweet against yours. He's gentle and endearingly clumsy but above all else, he's desperate and he kisses you like you'll disappear the moment he lets you go. His hand is tighter around yours and the other that had first been against your cheek drifted to the back of your neck. You hear him let out a sound when your hand runs through the back of his hair and you're both pulling away, still craving something more.

"How much of me do you want?"

"So much," he gulps, "so much more."

There's a grin on your lips as you drag him by the hand, abandoning the half-drank beer cans as you enter the house. Careful not to alert Abby, who was sleeping next to his room, you both tip-toe down the hallway, unable to help the giggles that escape your mouths. Then, the moment you're in his bedroom, you're pushing him against the door, seizing his lips. You feel his abs under his T-shirt, realizing just what he had been hiding under all those hoodies last summer. You feel the warmth radiating from him, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. You smile against his mouth when you feel his hand at your waist, slipping under your top to fit right into the arch of your back. He's holding back, you can tell, and it only makes you want to fan the flames and let him burn even brighter.

You tug him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards the mattress until his legs hit the edge and he’s sitting, your body crawling on top of him. And, for someone who had been concerned about not waking his sister, he sure allows himself to make so many pretty noises. He pulls away for air once again and looks up at you like he worships you, his hands on either thigh while you lean your forehead against his own. He then lets out a laugh, still genuine, though hushed.

"What's so funny?" You murmur.

"This is the best birthday gift I've had in years."

"But you haven't even unwrapped me yet," you quirk your brow. "You said you wanted more, didn't you?"

"I did," he hums, his eyes dragging down over your body, shyly. "Still do. If that's what you want, too."

"You already know I do."

He brings his fingers to the hem of your shirt and slowly lifts it, your arms raising to help him slip it off. You feel yourself shudder under his analytical gaze, even though the night is sweltering. You feel the goosebumps rise under your skin as his fingers brush over your body as if to memorize every curve and texture with his fingertips. And though you had done your best to mask your inexperience all night, it became obvious to him, the moment you were squirming before him— topless— the truth.

"I've never done this before," you admit before he can ask you, feeling more vulnerable than ever as he stares up at you, the most anyone had ever seen of you beneath your clothing.

"That's okay," he tilts his head, big brown eyes looking right back at yours, "if it's okay with—"

"I've already told you it is. Everything is okay with me. Please. "

He nods, his hands reaching behind you, and you feel his fingers at the clasp of your bra. There's a flush on his face as he fumbles with it, brows scrunched as he tries to pull it apart. Then, it hits you. The look in his eyes, the uncertainty in his actions, the constant need for reassurance. He's been trying to hide it just like you were. Had your own mind not been so clouded, perhaps you would have noticed it far sooner. You reach behind yourself, hand brushing past his own to unclasp the bra yourself, before letting it slide down your shoulders. There's a glimmer in his eyes as he takes in your half-naked form, mouth parted slightly.

"You've never done this either, have you?" You ask, hands looped around the back of his neck as you seat yourself better in his lap. You try not to make a sound when you feel his erection through his gym shorts, pressed right up against where you need friction the most.

"Never," he manages to say, somehow. "I don't know what I'm doing."

"We'll figure it out."

You're kissing him again, and this time you're the one fumbling to remove his shirt, unable to properly admire his exposed body as his mouth is pressed against yours the moment the garment is removed. You feel yourself start to crumble at every little noise he makes, every little touch and grinding of his hips into yours. Then his mouth is trailing down your neck and his hands are on your breasts, his touch gentle but his lips hungry. You feel his lips suck on a particular spot on your collarbone and hiss, your fingers threading through his hair.

"You're gonna leave a mark.”

He pulls away, not quite sporting a grin, but the look in his eyes tells you he’s proud, regardless.

"Is that a problem?"

"Bastard," you retort.

With that, you're pushing him down until his back is against the mattress, leaving your own trail of kisses down his neck and chest, a flurry of butterflies in your stomach every time you hear his noises, and whispers of praise. You reach down for his shorts, tugging them down, this time you're able to get a better view of him beneath you. Your hand traces the outline of the muscles on his abdomen and chest, feeling your face heat up, again reminded just how built he was. As if he couldn't get any hotter, you notice the trail of hair leading from his belly button, disappearing beneath his boxers. You suck in a breath, your pupils blown wide.

“I'm gonna go insane if you don't touch me right now,” he says, allowing you to realize just how long you had been staring him down.

The words go straight through you, reminding you of your arousal between your legs, and how you were currently sitting right on top of his dick, the only barrier between you being each other's underwear. You rock your hips against him and hear him whine, your hands flat against his chest. It almost scares you how good it already feels, without having done much of anything at all.

"You have any condoms?" You ask.

"Yeah, think so," he stammers, his eyes darting towards his dresser.

You get up, feeling his eyes on your ass as you dig through the drawer, sifting through clutter. Momentarily, you smile when you find the photo you gave him last year— before returning to the task at hand. You find a condom buried at the very back.

"Were you prepared for this?" You tease.

"I don't think that far ahead. They’re free handouts from sex Ed, senior year."

"If you actually paid attention in that class, you'd know that condoms have an expiration date."

"I did pay attention," he says as you settle yourself back on top of him, the foil between your fingers. "They're not expired yet ."

"Yeah? What else did you learn?"

You suppress a yelp when you feel your position forcibly switched, your back now against the mattress with him hovering over you. The condom had disappeared into his hand.

"That you probably shouldn't be on top for your first," you feel his hand at your panties, brushing your clit over the fabric, "and that you're gonna need more foreplay than just dry humping."

You notice how he looks at you for approval before tossing your underwear aside, admiring how your slick coats his fingers. You'd touched yourself enough times before to know what this feels like but somehow, when it's him doing it instead of yourself, you already feel you'll fall apart at any moment. Your clit is swollen and your hole flutters around nothing as his fingers continue to tease you. Fortunately, he slips his middle finger in before you can scold him for being a tease— and fuck it's so much more than you're used to. His fingers reach inside you better than yours ever did you feel your mouth go agape, your hand reaching to clasp over your mouth out of fear your noises will echo through the mostly silent house.

"Mike," you plea, but to no avail, one hand still desperate to muffle your sounds while the other gripped the bedsheets.

“Is it… am I doing it right?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “please, don’t stop.”

You’d heard horror stories before from others, about how aggressive some men were with their first times. But you think Mike is the opposite. So gentle and considerate— uncertain and awkward, sure, but with a willingness to learn and try.

“Doing so well,” he whispers sweetly, “you’re so perfect.”

You're so close to reaching your high that you almost wish you could strangle him the moment he pulls away, leaning down to capture your lips into a kiss. You then hear the sound of the foil being torn apart and the feeling of his dick rubbing against your centre. Despite his smile, you notice the worry behind his eyes. He's terrified. So, you bring your hand to his cheek.

"I want this," you reassure once again.

He nods.

He slips the tip in and your body spasms, the intrusion feeling so foreign. He watches your expression change with each passing moment he spends pushing into you. He loves the way your lips part, how your lashes flutter shut. Loves how your brows scrunch together. All because of him. You’re so soft and warm around him and he’s struggling to cool himself down.

"So much," you comment, your eyes half-lidded when he finally bottoms you out, your bottom lip pulled by your teeth. He tries not to let the compliment get to him, otherwise, he knows he’ll be finishing faster than he wants.

"You're doing so good," he whispers, his hand intertwining with your own, "taking me so well. Can you keep doing that?"

You nod, and he whimpers, taking another thrust. Your nails are digging into his shoulder blades but he doesn't care. It’s another distraction, helping him hold himself together while you take him. He takes another thrust and nearly loses it when he watches you whine, tilting your face to the side.

“More,” you let out.

You feel every inch of him inside you, pressing against your most sensitive parts and though the initial discomfort hadn’t fully yet faded, you start to feel yourself getting lost in pleasure the more you accommodate him. You continue to drag your nails down his back, the knot inside of you growing tighter. You reach down to touch your clit, aching for more stimulation, but he’s quickly replacing your hand with his own, rubbing circles into you.

“So good.”

“Yeah?” He stammers out, finding it difficult to string words together in the moment.

“You feel so good, Mike.”

He didn’t realize how fucking hot it would be to hear you say his name while you’re fucked out like this until you do, and he feels himself losing a grasp on himself.

The feeling inside of you starts to snap and your body is thrashing around as you approach your high. He feels you grasping onto him like he’s your lifeline, shaking through your cries, which are muffled by your hand on your mouth. He, too, reaches his limit, and he’s burying his face into the crook of your neck in the hopes that he isn’t too loud.

All that’s left is the sound of both of you breathing when it’s over, and you hear him get up, throwing the rubber away. The bed dips at your side and you feel him on top of you again, head buried into your neck as he holds you. You can’t help the smile that forms on your lips, your fingers raking through his brown curls.

It's different from all the times you've touched yourself beneath your sheets in the dead of night. Instead of coming down from your high and laying your head against a cold pillow, your head is against him. You can feel every beating of his heart, every rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. You can feel the stubble on his chin and jaw tickling the crook of your neck. You're shaking, sweating and your whole body aches, yet you want nothing more than to lay here with him. And though you could have given yourself to some other person in college, you know it would not have been the same with anyone else other than the messy-haired brunette who lay atop you.

"Missed you so much," he whispers, "please stay?"

You stare at your house through his window, choosing not to think too hard about the view he has into your bedroom from this angle. Your family wouldn’t care.

"I'm here," you respond, pressing a kiss to his head.

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x you #fnaf x reader

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