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ellie-s-list · 2 years ago

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Light in the Darkness (1)

Abby Anderson X Fem!Reader, College AU, Multi-Part

Hello, I’m not dead, just twenty years old now. I’m also obsessed with Abby and Ellie from TLOU 2 so, here we are since I can’t stop thinking about them.

This will be a song-fic type thing, as I find it cool.

Pt. 2 can be found here

TW: Anxiety

Don’t come at me for typos, my brain’s confused

Chapter One

Drop Dead Gorgeous, Voila

“You take my breath away

With that face

Because she’s drop dead gorgeous”

Blondes were never your type. You didn’t really know for sure what your type was but one thing was for sure, it was that blondes never caught your eye. Yet this dumb, buff, Chad of a girl who always sat right in front of you, got your attention. She wasn’t dumb, like any meathead jock that snorted creatine like crack, she was quite intelligent. Maybe too smart. Definitely too smart for this pre-req Anatomy class. Yet, here she was, sitting in front of you in lecture, and sitting at a table across from you in lab as well.

During mid-term presentations, she was quite knowledgeable about the topic of cellular respiration. Her partner, rather, not so much. But that's when you knew. Just noticing this girl, Abigail as it read on the discussion boards, was just the beginning. Now, at the class after the midterm exams, you were staring holes in the back of her head. Eight weeks left, you weren’t going to make it without having emotional casualties.

“Of course,” The professor, Dr. Andrews, started talking as she walked to the front of the white board. “I know we just had mid-terms and a midterm presentation, but we have to start working on the final presentation.” She grabbed her clipboard, “I already picked partners for you, so no one is left out to do all the work this time.”

Her comment was directed at you. It had to be, since you were the only one to present alone. But it was okay, you didn’t care. Meeting new people was rough, awkward. Though, you couldn’t get away with doing projects alone forever. A couple students looked at you, then back to Dr. Andrews when she started talking again.

“Projects will be on whole systems this time, and it will correlate to lab, so these partners will also be your designated lab partner,” Dr. Andrews then looked down at her clipboard to seal your fate. “Abigail Anderson,” She called, looking up at the blonde sitting in front of you. Then she called your name, causing you to freeze. Dr. Andrews continued to call out names as Abigail turned to look at you, giving you a small smile. “You may now sit with your partners,” Dr. Andrews concluded.

There was a free spot next to you, so you nodded your head to it. Abigail seemed to understand as she gathered her things and stood up. You didn’t look at her when she pulled the chair out next to you.

You could feel Abigail’s eyes on you after she set up her laptop and notebook. Dr. Andrews gave the class ten minutes to socialize with their picked partner, but you didn’t know what to say.

“You can call me Abby,” The blonde said softly, “Do you have a nickname?”

“For you?” You asked, turning your head to face her.

“What?” Abby looked amused, “I meant for you.” She leaned a muscular arm on the table, propping her head on her hand.

You stared at her, “No,” You answered, looking down at the pencil you were playing with. Your hands were getting clammy, heart rate speeding up. She was actively talking to you, and she didn’t seem annoyed by your weird question. Although, this was your first conversation with her, so it could get worse.

“You had a nickname for me?” Abby asked, her eyes never left you making our anxiety spike. She was wearing a cut off tee with cargo pants, showing off her arm muscles. Her hair was in a Dutch braid, like it usually was.

“No.”

“Mmm, okay,” Abby chuckled, not pushing the topic. “You did the last project alone, right?”

That question caused you to look at her, eyes furrowed as you blinked at her. She seemed genuinely curious, even if her question had an obvious answer. She’s not dumb.

“I mean, yeah,” You answered, looking her in the eyes, then you looked at her face. Her skin was bright, slight acne scars, but nothing too bad. Her nose and cheeks had freckles, forehead and chin just lightly dotted. Abby’s lips were slightly chapped, but they were a pale red.

Abby licked her lips, bringing you out of your analysis of her face. She apparently said something, but you never caught it.

“What?” You ask.

The blonde smirked, her dark blue eyes scanning your face now. She then leaned slightly closer, causing you to stiffen.

“You do well with public speaking,” She relented, “Yet right now, this conversation seems one-sided. Are you nervous around me?”

Your mouth dropped at her question. Who was she to call out your anxieties? Immediately, you almost put up your defenses, almost cut her out of your life. But a rational thought brought you back. She was just being curious, maybe trying to become friends. And she wasn’t wrong about the one-sided conversation, or about you being nervous around her.

Closing your mouth, you turned your attention back to the pencil. “I don’t care what these idiots think about me, or how I talk.”

“But?” She prompted, her voice softening.

“You’re a potential friend,” You turn back to her. Surprised at the proximity she gained towards you, you flinch. Abby didn’t move, waiting for your answer. “Also, we’re stuck together for the next eight weeks.”

Abby stared at you, taking in the information. But she still didn’t move, instead asking, “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“No,” Your answer was immediate, causing you to flush. “You seem to know what you’re talking about.” You turned your attention to your laptop, opening the projects rubric.

Abby hummed, seemingly satisfied with your answer, she leaned back into her seat.

After Dr. Andrews explained the project, she left the class to work amongst themselves. Abby didn’t push any further during class, instead pulling her own weight. You were thankful, having had partners in the past that forced you to do everything.

A few minutes before class ended, you decided to pack your items away. Abby decided to do the same, but you could feel her eyes watching you rearrange your items. As you zipped your backpack up, you heard Abby sigh.

“I should give you my number.”

You snapped your head to look at her, narrowing your eyes, “Why?”

The blonde didn’t seem phased by your reaction, instead she cocked her head, “So we can talk about the project.”

You thought her actions were cute, noticing how she kind of took on an innocence when she cocked her head at you. She seemed to not care about your hostility to the question, probably putting it together that you had anxiety. The conclusion warmed your heart, maybe friendship was possible. But, these qualities made the blond even more attractive to you.

Picking up your phone, you handed it to her, “You make a compelling argument.” She smiled, grabbing your phone gently. You watched her type her number in, then she placed your phone on your desk in front of you.

Abby grabbed her phone, handing it to you. You typed your number in, hitting save. Handing her phone back, you left your name blank so she could fill it with whatever she wanted.

“Do you want to join my table in lab?” You asked, changing her name in your phone.

Abby was silent for a moment, thinking your question over. You were nervous, having started the conversation this time.

“Sure.”

You nod, standing up, slinging your arms through the straps of your backpack, “See you then.”

The two of you had sent texts to make sure that you both had the right numbers. You smirked at her latest reply as you sat at your lab table.

From Abby (Chad) Chaderson

Hey

To Abby (Chad) Chaderson

Chad

From Abby (Chad) Chaderson

What?

You didn’t respond, rather you got your work for the class out. Thumbing through your lab book, you heard students start filing in. Movement out the corner of your eye caught your attention, causing you to look up. Abby was taking her seat across from you, placing her backpack on the table.

“Chad?” Was all she said. You smirked not looking up from your book, acting as if you were still reading.

“Hm?”

“So you’re secretly a gremlin,” Abby stated as Dr. Andrews walked in. You only shrugged at the blonde with a grin, turning your attention to the professor.

After a brief lecture, Dr. Andrews left the class alone to do the lab exercises. Abby was more talkative, not minding your brief answers as the two of you worked.

“What’s your major?” Abby asked.

“Reading,” You answer, writing down some data from your lab report.

“Funny,” Abby looked up at you from her own course work.

“I hope so, or else I’ll need a new job,” You smile, looking up to meet her eyes. Though, with that action, you froze. Your throat went dry as you took in her smiling face, the crinkles of the corners of her eyes highlighting just how often she smiled.

“So…?” Abby pressed, her smile turning into a sly smirk.

Swallowing thickly, you looked back down at your notes. Heat roast to your cheeks as you said, “Biochem.” Turning to a new page of your notebook you ask, “What about you?”

Abby hummed, “Pre-med.”

Tearing a piece of paper from your notebook, playing with it, “Rough.” You state, focusing on tearing it apart. Silence enveloped the table. God, why did you have to make things so awkward? “Why?” You decide to ask.

“My dad’s a doctor.”

“Makes sense,” You look at your paper pile that was forming in front of you. Humming you answer her curious stare, “You’re not dumb. You know what you’re talking about.” You then looked up at her, “You’re not the only one who noticed something during midterms.”

Abby smirked, “I guess not.”

There it was. The pit-fall in your stomach, your hands getting clammy. The racing of your heart, your eyes not being able to leave the person you’re getting attached to. The evidence was clear, with you not being able to get your mind off this buff, Olympic goddess of a woman.

Maybe Abigail Anderson was the blonde exception.

Posted: April 8, 2023

WC: probably 1,800

#abby Anderson #abby #tlou #tlou2 #TLOU reader #Tlou x reader #X reader #Abby x reader #Abby Anderson x read #Abby Anderson x reader #can’t type #Abby Anderson x fem reader #bi abby #tbh abby don’t like Owen #Owen kind of weird #hate Owen Sunday #even though its a Saturday #cupid is so dumb #Spotify

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hawkmothdiemotte · 2 years ago

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She was in love already just mad she got hit, because it tickles

#my stuff #my artwork #my art #fanart #mh #monster high #mh gen 1 #plus inspo from gen3 #c.a. cupid x abbey bominable #c.a. cupid #abby bominable #abbey x cupid #cupid x abbey #why do ghouls fall in love #cold love #idk that’s what I call them now

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macfrog · 9 months ago

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psyche and cupid | one shot

happy valentine's, beautiful people. i love you with all of my heart. xx shoutout to @familyvideostevie for putting joel's slutty little thigh holster into my head and, well. yeah. pairing: jackson!joel miller x fem!reader summary: valentine's day with joel doesn't go to plan. warnings: part two never happened!!!!! abby who!!!, established relationship, cursing, half joel pov, unspecified age gap, hints to reader having a sliver of ptsd, jesse is alive and well because he is my prince and i said so, reader has dark pubic hair, masturbation, somnophilia (not discussed in this fic but she is a-ok with it) and therefore dubcon, sprinkle of praise kink, oral (f!receiving), someone comes in his underwear, these two goofballs are big in love word count: 5.5k

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It’s not in his nightstand.

Not hung over the newel post, either.

He said he left it on the kitchen counter yesterday, right after he got home; said he woke up this morning and it was gone. And then he muttered something of an accusation that someone had tidied it away and forgotten where, and that started a whole new argument.

You know what, Joel? You’re following his tall figure as it sways down the hallway, his strides longer and considerably smoother than your flurrying shadow in his wake. Maybe if you weren’t going out today, we wouldn’t be having this problem.

His chin tilts upward, salt and pepper scruff angled to the ceiling with a ha slung from his throat. Yeah, he tosses a glance over his shoulder, we’d just be havin’ it tomorrow, instead.

You scoff in response, stepping where his boots lift off from, following the heavy thud thud thud like a cat at his heels until he’s rounding the corner towards your bedroom.

You pass over the messy trail of your jeans and Joel’s pajama bottoms, your underwear and his leading in a trail to the unmade bed – sheets like a rippled wave painted golden by the dawn.

The two of you split off – Joel lifts the cotton and watches it float back down over the flat of your mattress. Nothing.

You take the closet – the squeal of metal on metal harsh in your sleepy ears as you shove the hanging clothes aside, swiping around at the floor. Also, unsurprisingly, nothing.

Deflated, you straighten, stars peppering your vision and a tatty sleepshirt pinched in your fingers. Led Zeppelin – some band Joel was into before everything went to shit. You’ve listened to him out on the porch before, plucking strings in time with the record wobbling on the turntable inside.

The collar torn, sleeves pecked with holes, print lost to the years and the dryer – but each time you drape it over your shoulders, he smiles and hums some song from a world you’ll never know.

It’s sweet, when you’re in the mood to be wooed.

Which, incidentally, is not right fucking now.

His eyes flit down to the peeling, grayscale image – and that same smile attempts to bloom on his lips. That’s cute, but it ain’t my holster, pretty bird.

His smirk dampens quickly when he looks back up, snuffed by your stony expression.

You whip the tee down to the foot of the bed. You are a piece of fuckin’ work sometimes, do you know that? you growl, storming by him for the en suite.

Joel’s rough hand slips around your wrist, tugging gently but letting you drag him through to the bathroom.

Just go, Joel, you groan, the chill of the room prickling goosebumps on your naked legs. Give me some peace and quiet. ‘s not like I’m gonna be seein’ much of you today, anyways.

Is that what this is about? His voice echoes in the morning blue, round in your ears as you hang your head over the sink. Pickin’ a fight ‘cause you’re pissed I’m goin’ out?

I didn’t start the fight, you protest. You’re the one who lost his holster.

Didn’t lose it… he mumbles, lips closing around the sentence when he catches your glare in the mirror. He crosses one ankle over the other, toe of his dusty boot on the cracked tile, and sighs. What do you want me to do, baby? I gotta do my job.

On Valentine’s Day? When I worked extra to get it off, and you can’t even get your brother to swap one shift?

Joel’s expression seems to stiffen, tense with a realization that you know, and now he knows, too – he should’ve had days ago. A weighty breath falls from his nostrils, admitting some kind of defeat, and then he’s wandering carefully over to you, two hands curved over your shoulders.

He lowers his forehead onto the nape of your neck, a slow breath which flutters the loose collar of the flannel you’re wearing and sweeps down your spine. I’m sorry, pretty bird. I didn’t know it meant that much to ya.

It doesn’t, you admit, adding, usually. I just thought we could have a day to ourselves, for once.

He’s nodding, sweep of his fringe tickling the slope of your skin. It’d be a lot more romantic than spendin’ it with Jesse, that’s for sure.

Your bodies fall together with a shared laugh, a bright and charming thing in the dull bathroom light. Joel kisses the soft cushion of your shoulder and hooks his chin over, beard grazing your skin.

I’ll be back before you know it. ‘n then we can do whatever the hell you got planned for us, hm?

He’s steady behind you when you lean back, turning to place a damp kiss to the hinge of his jaw. A reply, a plea – a promise.

In the echoing dripdripdrip from the faucet, Joel pulls apart from you, two fingers pinching the hem of your shirt to pull you back into the bedroom.

You wanna walk me to the gate? he asks, pulling the zipper on his jacket.

What about your holster?

He smiles. I’m sure I’ll survive without it. C’mon. Put some pants on.

February is bitter even by Jackson’s standards – a bite of ice in the air which numbs the tip of your nose and stings the helix of your ears. The chill slips a long, sharp finger down the collar of your – Joel’s jacket, and you wrap the baggy canvas tighter around yourself.

Told you to wear som’ thicker. Joel sighs, grip light around the strap of his shotgun. His elbow nudges into yours, a wide arm wraps around your shoulder and draws you flush against his side. Head on back if you’re cold, he says, rubbing until the friction warms your upper arm.

I’m fine, you lie, eyeing the line of horses up ahead. The eager crunch of their hooves in the frozen ground, the pinkish light on their backs from the sky flooded crimson overhead – a warning from the horizon, you think.

It seems to agitate the animals as much as it does you, their heavy heads tossing nervously, ears flicking and inky eyes blinking.

Jesse meets you by the paddock, slipping Joel the reins of his horse with a curt nod, before hoisting himself atop his own.

It bleats from your lips before you can hold it back. Be careful.

Your frozen fingers claw around the zipper of his coat, tugging it upwards until it brushes against his bottom lip. The weather gets bad, you turn back. Okay?

He’s nodding, paying half his attention to your words, the other half to the little crease between your brows. Sure could use my holster against the cold, baby, he mutters, smirk lifting his cheeks and folding similar creases at the corners of his eyes.

Your eyes narrow, palms landing flat against his strong chest. Home soon?

He hums a little laugh, lips ghosting across your temple as he shifts by. Home soon, he mutters, breath steaming against your cold skin, and he leads the mare off towards the gate.

There’s a lot about Joel you admire.

Each part of him like a pebble stolen on a hike; some more jagged, a little more weathered than others, some well-rounded and smooth to the touch. Each one turned and turned and turned between your fingers until you’re fluent in every pore and vein, then dropped into your pocket alongside the others you’ve collected.

Clacking against one another until you arrive home, coat heavier with the happy burden of how much you love him. The same weight you feel behind your ribcage when you think too much about it.

He takes good care of you – has done since you first happened across one another. As if hanging his hunting jacket over your frail body was a wing over your shoulders; as if, from then on, you would never make a single move again without your grizzly bear of a man making it first.

Quiet about it, sure. Subtle. Opens the crook of his elbow for you to hook your wrist around as you wander through town together, and waits until you’re under the cover of nightfall or behind the close of your front door to do much else.

Asks with little more than a fleeting glance if you’re okay; a squeeze of your knee under the table in the dining hall. A conversation shared between closed lips and the meeting of his honey-flecked gaze, and yours. A language which lives and dies with the pair of you.

He’s guarded – and for all that he’s been through, you figure you can allow him that. Allow him his private peace. For all that he says without saying, all he does without making some big song and dance of it – there hasn’t been a second since you arrived here on the back of his horse, that you haven’t known he loves you.

It’s in him like it’s in you. A fever which broke at the first touch of his hand and yours, the first meeting of his warmth and your chill. Two opposites – cooling the painful sear in his heart, warming the barren frost in yours. Something sewn deep into your flesh, carved right through to the hollow of your bones.

And Jesus, if it doesn’t drive you fucking insane.

The front yard needs tidied up after winter, you notice, as you scuff your way up the path towards the porch. Once the last of the snow dries up, you two can get to repairing the damage done by the blizzards and the gales: fitting new shutters, planting new bulbs.

A cycle you’re still getting used to: the upkeep of a place called home. The strange feeling of having someone you call the same thing.

Your extra shifts at the stables and Joel’s long mornings out on the trails mean your home has gone neglected for a few days. Dishes and cutlery left in the sink, a pile of laundry slowly sprouting to new heights like a wild plant each time you cast a wary glance at it.

It’s not like you’ve much else to do, given Joel won’t be home for at least another couple hours. So you shuck off your jeans, letting the tail of his shirt dangle from your behind, and pick your way around each room – wiping counters and dusting corners, humming along to the crooning old records as they spin in the background.

Playing house at the end of the world. Pretending to listen for the tired exhale of a yellow school bus, mimicking the electrified babble of radio presenters between each track.

The bedroom is arguably the worst offender. Bedsheets used a few days too long, clothes strung across the floor – the relics of a late one at the Tipsy Bison. It’s no wonder you’re so fucking tired.

Echoes of stumbling footsteps and hushed, drunken giggles loop your ears, the groaning bedsprings and blunt thud of the headboard. You pluck the underwear and socks one by one, your body wincing around a satisfied ache still lingering, and shuffle over to the laundry hamper, lifting the lid to –

The dopey smile on your lips dissolves instantly. You gotta be fucking…

The buckle glints in the light, silver blinking up at you from its bed of dirty laundry. The tan strap coiled and neatly slung through its fastener; the pouch empty. Awkward and ashamed, lying there in front of you. Apologetic, almost.

Your eyes roll closed; a short, hot breath seeping past your lips. A silent promise embedding beneath your tongue to take him by the sleeve as soon as he crosses the threshold, force him to lift the lid himself. An I told you so already brewing in the pit of your stomach.

The holster’s actually pretty heavy when you lift it up in the light. Leather a little worn, stitching frayed where it should clip around his belt.

It’s the size and width of him: a thick, toned thigh slotted inside the loop of leather, fixed by fingers long void of feeling when he’s been riding to the outpost, chasing infected, plunging his knife deep into their necks.

Patrol was never your thing. Joel took you out just once – but there are cracks in your past which threaten to split you in two, it seems, the longer you spend outside the settlement walls. Phantoms which follow close behind in the form of snapping twigs, of the wind rustling in the trees overhead. Shadows living in your periphery with curled sneers and spits of filth.

You lasted twenty minutes, that first and only day, before Joel had your horses tied together and your body shelled in his own, taking you straight back home.

But the thought of this around his thigh, the thought of him adjusting it to the waistband of his jeans; his hand floating down to settle gently atop it when he’s listening for danger approaching, two fingers slipping into the trigger guard.

It…stirs something.

You pad over to the bathroom, hopping as you step into the strap. He wears it on his right leg, right? You pull it past your ankle, ball of your foot slamming clumsily back down on the tile.

Adjusting it to fit your thigh, you bunch the hem of his shirt in one fist and stare back at your reflection. Her nervous stance, hips swaying left to right as she peruses the figure opposite.

Who is she, this mirage – naked thigh decorated with her man’s leather, fingernails tracing the messy stitching and imagining the weight of his gun, keen in the pouch?

A strange aura of possession about it, like a part of him locked firm around a part of you, from however many miles away. You swear you can feel the ghost of his warmth on the inside of the strap, wrapped around your sensitive skin.

Yeah.

Stirs something, alright.

Joel’s been gone little over an hour. He’s probably at the outpost by now, logging All clear and pretending to let Jesse take the lead. Wide shoulders swaying as he wanders from room to room, a careful scope of the valley from each window, tongue tracing the bottom of his teeth.

Ridges of his knuckles white around the grip of his shotgun, squinting down the barrel. Lines drawn between his brows and at the corners of his eyes like scores on parchment, focus and concentration tight on his face.

You sink back into the cradle of your bed, that divot where his body and yours meet each night. Each part of you intertwining with a part of him: the place where you become one. His smell and your touch, your giggle and his teeth.

A sudden, powerful thing which hammers through your veins and jumps your body for a few seconds – you pull the first orgasm from between your legs within a matter of minutes. The sight of his shirt disturbed over your stomach, the feeling of blood squeezing past taut leather enough to throw you under by itself, never mind the fast snap of your fingers deep inside your body.

Another – slower, lazier, still vibrating from the first – then almost a third, but the crinkle of sheets at your ears, the pillow-soft landscape beneath your heavy body, begins to sweep you off somewhere.

And in as little time as it took to entice you into the water in the first place, you slip beneath the waves.

The house is quiet when he finally makes it home.

Jesus, Joel thinks, what a shift.

Not one infected the entire run, he can’t quite believe – but Jesse caught his palm on some warped sheet of chain link fence, then almost passed out when he looked down and saw the scarlet seeping from his shredded skin.

The pair sat for half an hour, unsheltered in the unforgiving wind, waiting for the kid’s head to stop spinning and the cold to rob the feeling from his hand.

All Joel wanted was to get home to you. You, and your hips swaying as you stand by the stove, and his hands kneading into the velvet plush of your waist, and the smell of burnt sausages and spatter of angry oil from the pan.

He’s so late. He said he’d be as quick as he could, said you’d barely know he was gone, and he’s so fucking late.

But he’s here now, at least.

He’s home.

As he kicks off his boots, snow sprinkling from the soles onto the doormat, he notices the absence of your arms around his waist. The missing weight at the back of him, no ear flat against his spine and hands interlocked above his belt. No relieved, I missed you, no nuzzle of your head under his arm.

The house is still and dim. The turntable spins in the corner, a dead crackle playing nothing for no one. Joel sniffs, eyeing the room and its new, orderly form: the books slotted neatly on their shelves, the rings of coffee wiped clean from the table.

Lifting the needle from the record, Joel calls out, Baby?

Maybe you’re in town somewhere. Maybe you’ve gone to spend the morning with the horses. But then, you would’ve been watching for his arrival. Would’ve skipped out from the stables and swung around his body, a gleeful smile and an outstretched hand. Take me home, cowboy.

And you wouldn’t have left the lights still burning, the player still turning. Your coat is still on its hook, smaller and brighter and where it belongs on the right of Joel’s. The cushions on the couch are fluffed and smooth, perched contentedly in place; the curtains draped in their tie backs.

You’re home. You’ve been home all morning.

So where the fuck are you?

Joel crosses over to the bottom of the stairs, blinking up at the painted cowboys and horses staring down from the landing. Calls your name, a faint singsong as he slowly ascends the stairs. You up there?

Down the wintery dull hallway to the bedroom door, figuring he knows the answer. And he’s right, isn’t he, when he nudges the door open and peers inside, spots the tiny lump of you in your double bed. Sunk deep into the mattress – covers you’d come in here to change, swallowing you whole.

A crooked, exhausted smile pulls across his lips; his thumb hooks around a belt loop, knee cocking.

You’re so…perfect. So heavenly, so still like this – stretched out on your front, breathing in the scent of his pillow and breathing out little puffs of air.

Joel leans over you, a heavy hand pushing into the mattress above your shoulder, and runs a featherlight knuckle over your cheek.

Pretty bird? he whispers, lighter than the long breaths from your sleep-swollen lips.

You don’t stir. No movement, save for the rise and fall of your shoulders wrapped up in his flannel.

Joel feels a pang of guilt, numbed only by the chill still through his body: he woke you this morning, before even the sun had lifted her head. Had you hunting all over the house with him, for some dumb holster that he wound up not even n–

His eyes trail down the shape of your body, draped in the sheets like white marble carved into the round shape of something beautiful, hands following the curve of your thigh. His wrist freezes when it meets the odd bulge of something, an awkward bump beneath the cotton.

He peels the sheet back, lifting it from your shoulders, your waist, your hips – until your angled thigh lies on full display for his feasting eyes.

His fucking holster…wrapped tight around your fucking thigh.

A disbelieving laugh at first – a She told me so, before he notices the indents in your skin, the stretched leather snug around your leg, riding higher than it should at the doing of your slumber.

Christ, baby, he breathes, stare glued to the folds of plaid hooked around the belt loop. Following the tatty hem down past your hip, along the underside of your ass – riding up some, right where your legs part.

And between them, all sheer and thin, twisted around itself and slipping between: your underwear. The threading of pubic hair peeking over the frilled hem of it; the sight filling Joel’s mouth with saliva.

A heavy heat forms in his jeans, an irritable weight which aches when he moves; which hardens when he pictures the image of you in his bed, his shirt, his holster wrapped around your thigh – playing with yourself while he’s been gone.

Fuck. Fuckin’…shit.

He lowers, running lips he knows are freezing cold along the burning surface of your skin, tongue slipping past his teeth to drag a wet trail along your thigh.

Your leg shifts under his touch, the startle of his chilled fingertips behind your knee, nuzzling of his nose where the holster sits smugly on your thigh. Smelling like leather and salt, the sticky sheen of sweat still glowing on your skin.

Joel takes your waist in two hands – he can’t fucking help himself, can he? – and turns you, patiently, watching as you roll onto your back so he can drag you further down the bed. Tongue flicking at the corners of his lips, thirsty for something he only wants you to feed him.

Slow, slowly. Every effort put into not waking you, to keeping you in this peachy haze between asleep and awake; your movements long and staggered, held firm against the mattress by the weight of your doze.

With a sigh, your jaw turns to one side. Joel pulls you in, kneeling at the edge of the bed with your socked feet resting on his shoulders. His shirt gathers around your waist; your hips and the thin twine of your underwear spotlighted by stripes of weakened sunlight spilling in through the blinds.

Oh, pretty bird, he groans, slipping his open palms under your ass, rough and squeezing the pillows of flesh in his hands. This all for me?

A moan wrapped in a hefty breath twists from your lips. Your knees fall limp; legs open almost eagerly, like your body inviting him in. And he accepts, takes it with eyes blown black and hungry lips parted – leans in and nestles his nose against the thrumming heartbeat pounding through your clit.

Such a good girl, he whispers, closing his lips in a kiss over your clothed mound, and your hips jolt.

You’re so fucking warm. So wet; sticky and so ready for him. He kisses your folds, suckling gently and letting his tongue dart along the inseam of your lips in flicking movements – collecting the taste of salt and feeling his cock throb against rough denim.

Off? he asks – you and the room and himself – fingers hooking around the underwear rolled on your hips.

When your back arches, body feeling the loss of his tender kiss, rolling like a wave seeking to crash against the steady rock form of his – he smirks to himself.

Joel nods. Off.

He takes his time peeling them from your body, watching as more and more of his paradise is revealed. The waves of your folds, the sheer glisten of arousal along them; the dark hair peppering either side as damp and slick as the skin beneath it.

Your panties drop from a hooked finger without a sound and he turns back, hovering over your waiting cunt with wide eyes and a slack jaw. Out front, voices call back and forth to one another – some neighborly greeting and affable conversation – but Joel doesn’t hear. Deafened to anything but the sound of your sighs and his own blood hammering through his ears.

It’s a little rushed, a tad rough, the way he presses his lips back to yours. The way his beard grazes against your most sensitive spot, and the gasp he swears he hears lift from your tongue.

But fuck, he’s missed this, the way he always does – without knowing, without actively thinking about it, without knowing it was even at home waiting for him. If his mind weren’t on an entirely different planet right now, he’d curse that goddamn chain link for holding him up, for keeping him away longer than thirty seconds from the sweet little angel resting in his bed, and the sweet little pussy between her legs.

He parts your thighs wider, tongue dipping lower and deeper as he laps at your core, almost fucking panting against it.

You squirm lazily beneath him, shoulders tensing and untensing, a half-limp wrist lifting to pet his hair and an attempt at his name between your lips. Joel, you whimper, thick with sleep and something more dangerous.

I know, baby, he’s telling you, I know, and his tongue slips inside again. His hips grind into the mattress, cock an agonizing stiff against the sturdy edge. He can feel the wet in his boxers, the precome sticking to the inside of the cotton.

Fuck, he wants to be inside you so badly, so desperately.

Another gasp sputters across your lips, cut short in your throat when his teeth bump against your clit.

Too hungry, too brash, he thinks. You’re too soft, too open for him to let it go to waste. Not like this.

He pulls back, a filthy thread of arousal and saliva between his open lips and yours, and places a sodden kiss to the inside of your thigh.

But you whine, you poor little thing – your head twisting to the other side, a second hand now blindly surfing across his shoulder, past the brush of his beard and sifting through his still-chilly hair. The loss of attention to your pussy aching between your legs; your hips lifting weakly to meet the scratch of his chin again.

And that same sound – that same Jo-oel – a sound like song, like saccharine dripping over his shoulders.

So, he lifts a hand – two middle fingers coming together to push open your cunt, instantly sliding in knuckle-deep. Sucked in by the wet mess left behind by his lips, stretching you out with slow, round movements.

You’re slowly stirring, blossoming from your sleep and turning slowly back into this world. The cold edges seeping in, the warm flush of pleasure sharpening at their meeting. He’d do anything, he thinks, to keep you here; keep you teetering on the edge, tangled up between your world and his.

J– oh, fu-uck, you whine, and he can tell you’re still blinkered by sleep. But you grind on him again – a long, languid movement which seems to spatter out at its end when the coarse hair of his beard catches against your clit.

The breath stops in your throat, punching out in a shuddered moan. Joel could come just from the sound of it.

You gonna give me one, baby girl? he pleads, forearms clamping down on the underside of your thighs. Desperate – desperate to feel you, hear you, taste you as you come undone. Just one.

You’re writhing around beneath him, as needy as he is. A winding which matches his, coiling at the bottom of your stomach; a feeling which pulls at the corners of your lips and shocks them into a smutty, half-conscious smile. Your eyes roll back, fluttering open and then snapping shut when the light floods in.

There, you say, clearest so far, movements the strongest he’s felt. Your fingers root in his hair, rough over his scalp. Keep – keep doin’ that.

Joel smiles against your mound; a cocky thing, emboldened by the sound of that little Texan twang, the curl of an accent which doesn’t belong to you. Rather, a result of your years spent with him, watching the way his mouth shapes the words, learning the low swing and swirling melody of his tongue.

As if he’s as alive within you as he is within himself; every little thing Joel knows is him, injected into your bloodstream – his dry wit, his blunt honesty, his thick fingers and his insatiable tongue.

He slips in a third, flicking them perfectly inside of you. Beckoning your release; tongue sitting in wait, a resting point for you to grind your clit against.

And he wants it as much as you do: wants to feel the clamping of your body around him, wants to taste the flood of your orgasm as it shocks through every bone in your body.

Wants to pull three soaked, pruned fingers from your pussy and slip them over your tongue, letting you clasp your fingers around his wrist; watching the half-dozing flutter of your eyelashes as you suckle on them and make those pretty little sounds for him.

Your hand knots tighter in his hair, pelvis circling steady against his suckling lips. He can smell it on you: smell the need seeping from your pores. The sleep spilling from the corners of your mouth, the happy whimpers and quiet cries for more, more, Joel, more.

And – Shit, he breathes against you, feeling a sudden rush of electricity he knows all too well between his hips. Not now, not now not before he’s been inside – Shit, baby, gotta let me go.

You whine in refusal – a petulant sound, all stubborn and greedy. ‘m so close, I –

Pretty bird, he groans, lifting his jaw. He places a messy kiss to the crease between your core and your thigh, wrist stammering with his sudden movements. You gotta – you gotta let go, you’re gonna make me come –

You’re echoing him, mumbling the words gonna, gonna come – fuck, Joel, ‘m gonna –

Shit.

Not – Fuck – not right n– Christ, baby girl, you’re gonna – you’re –

Your walls spasm, clamping and relaxing, squeezing around his huge fingers. But it’s not that – it’s not the gush of warm fluid which seeps from between your legs, coating his knuckles and dripping into his palm.

It’s not the arch of your back, the way your breasts lift to the ceiling and his shirt slips below one nipple. Not the way your head rolls back against the mattress, a broken moan tearing in shards from your throat.

No.

It’s the way your hands leave his hair in an instant, and grip around the leather on your thigh. Skin stretching thin over your knuckles, thumbs between the strap and your sticky skin; hips still riding out your high as you ground yourself, holding onto his holster.

And it makes Joel come. Hard.

Harder than he knew possible, grinding against a mattress and the inside of his fucking jeans.

He falls forward, breathing a guttural moan into the soft swell of your stomach below your navel, fingers hooking into the baggy shirt around your arms.

Shitshitshit, he pants, feeling the warm ejaculate spurt from his cock and all over the inside of his boxers. Oh, fuck, baby. Fuck me.

His hips shudder a few more times, pressing hard into the edge of the mattress before he’s coming down, slowing to a stop – still a leaden weight on your stomach. His cock almost painful, overstimulated and oversensitive.

But then – something gently tittering. A bird singing, cooing above his head. The ground beneath his temple shakes, tremors with laughter. The dust twinkles in the sunlight, now brighter, golden, streaming through the window.

You’re awake.

Joel drags his gaze upwards, bleary and glazed with sex, and catches your eye.

Feel good? you ask, sifting hair away from his damp forehead. When was the last time that happened? Fourteen?

I don’t wanna talk about it, he mumbles into your belly.

Your chest jumps, a laugh which echoes into Joel’s ear. Tastes that good, huh?

It takes a mighty effort for him to push up on his palms, slowly crawling up the length of your body until his elbows plant firm into the mattress either side of your head. He groans as he lowers his lips, parting them to let you slip your tongue inside.

The kiss is slow, tender. Your bodies melding together, teeth clacking and jaws moving in sync. A sharp taste, sweet with a singe of bitterness to it. Perfect, you think, smirking against Joel’s cool lips.

He pulls away, lips tickling the tip of your nose deliberately.

With a giggle, you push on his chest. You should shower. You smell like patrol.

Joel cocks an eyebrow. You comin’ in with me?

Nope. I got even more laundry to do now, old man.

He entertains the quip with a subtle smile, a thing which softens the creases on his face and lights a twinkle in his eyes. Quietly, genuinely, in a way which makes your heart ache a little, he whispers, Sorry I was workin’, pretty bird.

You shrug. ‘s okay. You made up for it. And – I found your holster. You lift your knee, letting the buckle shine in the sunlight.

You did that, Joel agrees, nodding and glancing down at the thing. He hooks a finger around the strap, giving it a little shake. Maybe I oughta lose it more often.

Hm, you shrug, or I can just keep it safe for ya. Looks good, don’t it?

He feigns a disappointed smile, a resigned sigh before he looks back up.

Better ‘n when I wear it, he admits, and his lips crash down to yours again.

#same universe as 'wish you were here' - if you want #joel miller #jackson!joel #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #tw somnophilia #tw dubcon

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thriftedtchotchkes · 1 year ago

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happiest day

pairing: mike schmidt x reader

summary: when you least expect it, mike surprises you with a confession

warnings: 18+ MDNI, established relationship, hint of angst, smut, unprotected piv, creampie, mentions of rough sex, requited feelings

word count: <1k

Mike tells you he loves you for the first time the way no one ever should. Balls deep, while he's cumming inside you.

It tumbles out, a quiet moan at first, then a louder realization that takes both of you by surprise. His hips slam into your ass once, twice, and then he's filling you up, his admission hanging heavy in the air.

You're almost positive you imagined it until he repeats it again with a little more conviction.

"Fuck. I think I'm in love with you," he pants heavily, his hands intermittently squeezing your waist in time with the heady pulsing of his cock.

There's a beat of silence while you struggle to process his words, torn between the warring sensations of his release leaking down your thighs and shock tugging at your ribcage. He slips out of you as he softens, and once your connection is broken, it hits you like a ton of bricks.

"...What?"

He freezes behind you, and you immediately regret your gut response. That's not what you meant to say at all. Of course, it's not. You're just...confused. You hadn't expected it from him, not when you've only been together for a few months. Part of you wants to wait and see if he takes it back, just in case. But he doesn't.

"If...it's okay, you know. If you don't feel the same, it's okay," he mumbles, folding over you to rest his forehead between your shoulder blades.

His breath is warm and humid against your skin as he peppers soft, lingering kisses down your spine. Strong arms wrap around your waist, clinging to you like this might be his last chance, and suddenly it all feels so real. You've been too quiet for too long and now he's afraid.

You haven't told him yet, but there's no need to be. You just can't figure out how. How can anyone possibly cram the immensity of months of pizza nights on the living room floor watching James and the Giant Peach with Abby, and days off work spent tangled in bed, fucking and fighting and forgiving, into three little words?

You try anyway, but what comes out isn't a response. It's a plea. You don't know what you're asking for—you just know you need him.

"Mike," your voice shakes with it. He holds you tighter, and now there's so little space between you, you can't tell where he ends and you begin.

"You don't have to say it. It's okay, I won't be mad. I just...I need you to say something. Anything," he whispers, his day-old stubble rough and grounding as he speaks.

He nuzzles into you, breathing unevenly—nervously—and you realize he's comforting you. Regardless of what you decide, you're still his first priority.

You find his hand where it rests, splayed across your stomach, and lace your fingers with his. Just say it. Just tell him, say it back. There'll be plenty of time to show him how much you mean it.

Because they're not just words. They're not even a feeling. Love is a promise, and you'll keep it.

Taking a steadying breath, you turn in his arms and pull him down on top of you. It's the first time you've seen his face since he got home and wrestled you onto your hands and knees, all searing touches and deep, frantic thrusts. Since he told you he loves you.

His eyes meet yours, darting from one to the other, desperate for an answer, but yours, instead, follow the freckles across his nose down to the curve of his cupid's bow. There is so, so much to love about Mike Schmidt, and he deserves to know it.

"Of course, I love you," you promise, tilting your chin up so your bottom lip just grazes his top.

His face lights up with an unrestrained smile you see so rarely, the one reserved only for you and Abby on his happiest days. You lean forward to kiss him, softly and open-mouthed, and he inhales sharply, his hands shooting down to your waist.

His grip is a little too tight, and you think maybe he's scared you'll take it back, so you wrap your legs around him to hold him right where he is. Then, the kiss deepens and, when his hands start to roam, you realize what he needs.

Mike has always found solace in you, inside you, whenever he's struggling to express or accept what he's feeling, and right now he's asking for reassurance. Hooking your heels behind his back, you tug his hips into yours, and he groans into your mouth as he slips through his release still dripping from your heat.

He's already hard as a rock and bucking into you as if he didn't fuck you into his mattress less than an hour ago, except this time you can see him. The tension between his brows and in his shoulders visibly loosens, and he exhales a sigh of relief the moment he's buried to the hilt.

Enveloped by your warmth and security, it falls from his lips again, over and over—an increasingly sure declaration as he continuously fills you up and hollows you out.

You repeat it back, and it feels good. It feels so good to love Mike Schmidt.

thanks for reading!

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt #fnaf imagine #fnaf smut #fnaf movie #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #more hidden lore references YEP

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brownbearwrites · 1 year ago

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cupid sent me on a mission (that's got me sitting, wishing, waiting)

mike schmidt x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI. soft smut, praise. no spoilers for the movie, no use of y/n.

word count: 617

read it on ao3 here.

It’s the sound of your door softly creaking open that first wakes you, your eyes groggily fluttering open. It’s still dark in your shared bedroom, so you hear more than you see Mike gently making his way in. Behind him, the bedroom door closes with a click. You let your eyes fall shut once again, hearing him strip down to his boxers before he slides into bed next to you. Your sleep-warmed body melts against his. You hum in appreciation as he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, the scruff of his beard tickling your skin.

“G’morning,” you whisper, unwilling to break the gentle softness of the moment.

You feel Mike’s steady breathing against the side of your neck, “Good morning, pretty girl,” he answers you in a voice equally soft.

His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close against him. He caresses the soft skin of your stomach where your shirt has ridden up, his fingers just barely brushing the waistband of your underwear.

“How was Abby last night?” he asks.

You gently smile at his concern for her, ever the responsible older brother. “She was an angel, didn't even throw a fit when I told her it was bedtime”.

You feel Mike's contented hum against your neck, his lips moving to press hot wet kisses over the stretch of skin. You sigh into it, moving your head off to the side to give him more space to work with.

“How did I get so lucky, huh?” he wonders aloud, “getting myself such a sweet, pretty girl like you to come home to every day”.

You begin to answer him, but your words catch in your throat when his hand dips past the elastic of your panties, his fingers trailing through the wiry hairs on your mound to settle on your clit. He begins rubbing soft, sleepy circles against it — just enough pressure to make your breath quicken. He continues to kiss the column of your neck, tongue licking and teeth scraping, to form bruises that you'll have to explain away later in the day.

You begin to move your hips in time with his touches, the slow movement making the springs in your bed creak ever so softly. His fingers dip lower, gathering some of your slick before returning to rub at your clit, the slide of his digits now even easier with the added wetness.

“Been thinkin' about this all night,” Mike confesses, “Couldn't stop thinking about how you feel pressed against me, about those pretty sounds you make”.

You shudder against him, his pace getting quicker now, his fingers rubbing against you almost desperately. A moan slips past your lips, muffled against your pillow. You feel his hardness press against your back, a steady reminder that he, too, is enjoying this. You press your hips closer against his, providing him with something solid to grind against.

“Always so good to me,” Mike moans into your skin.

His hips and fingers move in tandem against you, and before long you find the muscles in your lower stomach tightening, your legs clenching around the steady press of Mike's fingers against you. You let out a whine that — in any other circumstance — would have been embarrassing, and you find it answered by Mike's own soft moans. Your pleasure crests, your orgasm washing over you, leaving you a trembling mess in the safety of Mike's arms. You barely register Mike's choked groan and the following warm wetness that's suddenly leaking against your behind.

The room is still as dark as it had been when he first entered, though the silence is now broken by your shared heavy panting and soft satisfied laughter.

#mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf movie #mike schmidt imagine #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson smut #mine

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clairellie · 7 months ago

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hii !! first off. love your blog ?? need to read your abby fic !! 🫶🏻🫶🏻 and i saw you took requests. so um. hear me out, mixing the streamer!ellie with some abby x reader content.

streamer!ellie who decides to invite her two best friends to play games and stream. abby and reader being close to each other, abby encouraging reader, cheering for her while being a dick to ellie. "you got it, you got it!" she'd say to reader as she plays. "you fuckin' moron! you lost!" she'd say to ellie. anyway !! chat starts to notice how sweet abby and reader are to each other and ellie reads them what people say. omg. and maybe after the stream, abby decides to take reader on a date?? sorry if this is messy. just thought it'd be cute !! mwaaah 🫶🏻🫶🏻💌

OUR CUPIDS . . .

a/n: i loveedddd this idea!! sorry if this seems bad, this was done in like 15 minutes.

includes: streamer!ellie with sweet!abby but also mean!abby..? y/n used once!!! abby being bad down.

"okay, so today, i invited 2 of my friends to play a few games with us. abby, and y/n. uhm, we decided to play a few games of fortnite, so no call of duty today. you all know y/n right, and abby, right?"

ellie was staring off into space as you and abby introduced yourself, looking at a few posters up on her wall, surrounded by a shelf full of figures.

ellie was seated in the middle, abby on the left of ellie, and you on the right of ellie. ellie didn't want you two to sit next to eachother. she despised those moments when abby was only focused on you. always helping you figure out where everyone is, reminding you to pick up some loot, and so on. she never did any of those things to ellie, because she was already "good."

as ellie was talking to chat a bit, needing help with choosing her skin before you and abby joined in. once abby finished helping you, although she was honestly just talking to you.. she sat back down in her seat and loaded in the game as you did.

ellie had a peely skin, and you had the poison ivy skin on as abby had midas on. abby said you two "had the same vibe." she liked how your two skins complimented each other, and looked like you were sort of matching, just a tiny bit.

"oh! get that loot right there." "you got it!" "reload real quick.. yeah, now shoot him in the head." abby was always cheering you on as you played. ellie side eyeing chat, knowing that theres some kind of vibe between you and abby.

it took a while for the match to end, none of you getting a #1 royale. somehow, ellie died first. you and abby kept looking at each other almost every time ellie did one of her high-pitched screams or loud ass gasps. then you died. then abby died.

"HAH, you fuckin lost." abby said in a joking manner. ellie was pisseddd off. she couldnt believe the fact that she died first. it was usually you who died first, but ellie?! "you can shut the fuck up abby" "well i wont."

you had forgotten about chat. completely forgetting that people were watching you play a game. ellie looked over at chat, a few things caught her eye.

"THE WAY ABBY LOOKS AT HER?!" "they should js get married alreadyyy." "plz dont start the ships again."

ellie grinned, ammused by the way chat is obsessed with you and abbys relationship. "chat loves yall together, start dating already."

abby looked at her with a confused face, "excuse me....?" "look at chat. the way you look at her, the way you speak to her compared to me? come on now!"

you looked over at abby, thinking about what it would be like to date her. you now realize you already had some feelings for her.. but those got stronger. you would love the feeling of abby's lips on top of yours, the feeling of her hands holding your waist...

time went by quickly now that you werent really focused any more. a few minutes later, ellie shuts off the stream. "yall wanna get some food realllyyy quick?" ellie asked, now standing up. "yeah just give us a sec." abby said, getting her shoes put on and her leather jacket.

abby looked at you, "you wanna go on a date with me?" you stared at her, confused and in shock now. how could this all happen so fast? first you were just hanging out with eachother, then you find out you reallyyy like her, and now she feels the same way?!!

"i-i mean sure! i would love that."

"what time works best for ya?"

#tlou 2 #wlw #abby anderson the last of us 2 #abby anderson x reader #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x reader #abby x you #ellie the last of us #ellie williams

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skrunklydoo · 7 months ago

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working on a monster high ninjago AU!

the characters are students at monster high and are all different monster species! here’s the ghoul squad (+ some other main characters), nicknamed the ninja by teachers, under the cut:

characters in brackets are who they’re replacing (some have two characters they’re replacing) + info about ships

zane julien: the new ghoul at school. a robot, he can remove his limbs at will (frankie stein/abbie bominable, pixane (pixal x zane))

jay walker: a 1600-year-old anxious, jumpy and somewhat impulsive vegan vampire (draculaura, plasmashipping (kai x jay))

cole brookstone: the overprotective and brave werewolf of the ghoul squad. fashion designer (clawdeen wolf, lost/geodeshipping (cole x geo))

lloyd garmadon: a normie-presenting (a normie is a human in the monster high universe) dragon-oni-human hybrid who initially bullies zane but gradually grows close to him (cleo de nile, aromantic-asexual lloyd, platonic garmagoths (lloyd, harumi and morro))

kai smith: a fire elemental-water monster hybrid (more fire elemental than water monster) and nya’s brother (clawd wolf/heath, plasmashipping)

nya smith: a fire elemental-water monster hybrid (more water monster than fire elemental), the school’s champion swimmer and kai’s sister (lagoona blue, amber phoenix (nya x skylor))

harumi jade: a boogeyman tomboy lesbian biker girl. a good friend of lloyd’s. that’s all i have to say for harumi (deuce gorgon, platonic garmagoths, her and lloyd aren’t dating in this AU)

geo goyle: a gargoyle from screamtaro (the AU equivalent of shintaro) who was shunned for being a hybrid of a geckle and a munce gargoyle (rochelle goyle/neighthan rot, lost/geodeshipping)

p.i.x.a.l. borg: a matchmaking bone elemental-robot hybrid who runs the school’s relationship advice radio show with her boyfriend (c.a. cupid/robecca steam, pixane)

morro: a ghost and the co-manager/co-writer of the school gossip page, the ghostly gossip. one of lloyd’s good friends along with harumi (spectra vondergeist, citrusshipping (morro x echo zane), platonic garmagoths)

echo zane julien/mr. e: a frankenmonster and co-manager/co-writer of the ghostly gossip. when angered, he transforms into mr. e, an overprotective biker. zane’s brother (jackson jekyll & holt hyde, citrusshipping)

vania: a plant monster-ghost hybrid and former princess of screamtaro before she moved to monster high after the whole skull sorcerer thing (venus mcflytrap)

chen the cheerleader: the overconfident and arrogant werecat leader of the fearleading (cheerleading) squad (toralei)

sora: a tortured teen werecat pop star from imperium who eventually joins the ninja with her best friend arin (catty noir)

arin: a boogeyman who, with sora, joins the people he idolised the most (twyla boogeyman)

sensei wu: the dragon(ish) headmaster of monster high (headmistress bloodgood)

misc ships in the AU: nightshade (chamille x tox) and dark thinking (neuro x shade)

if you have any questions on where other characters fit in this AU, please let me know!!

also thank you @lonleyzodiac for giving me almost all of the ideas for this THANMK YOU

this AU is mostly focused on g1 monster high but some elements from g3 will probably be sprinkled in too

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kiwi-but-the-bird-not-the-fruit · 6 months ago

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List of characters you 🫵 the Audience can request!

___________________________________________

In my oneshot all characters are aged up in their senior year 18/19 others in college 20/25 even if it don't say it in the story I strongly want to add this clarification

I only write Fem Reader and Gender neutral Reader

No poly relationship request please they make uncomfortable (not the people just that I'm not poly)

___________________________________________

What I do write

W/W lesbians

M/F Heterosexual

Fluff

Angst

Au's

Strangers to lovers

Friends to lovers

Meet cutes

Established relationship

Sensual insinuations

Sexual scenes (very minor it's not full smut just the scene afterwards the act)

What I don't write and that I'm uncomfortable with

Adult x minor

Rape/ grooming

Sexual Harassment in fiction

Pro shipping

_________________________________________

Monster high list. And their genderbent names

Draculaura = Laurence

Frankie stein = frankie stein

Cleo de nile= Cleon de nile

Clawdeen wolf= Claws wolf

Nefera de nile = Nefero de nile

Abbie Bominable = Abbott Bominable

Catty Noir = Clawton Noir

Castra Fierce= Casper Fierce

Robecca Steam= Robert Steam

C.A Cupid = C.A Cupid

Rochelle Goyle= Rockwell Goyle

Gigi grant= Gavin Grant

Venus McflFlytrap= Vinny McFlytrap

____________________________________________

Ever after high and their genderbent names

Apple white= Aspen white

Raven Queen= Raven King

Briar Beauty= Bryce Beauty

Ashlynn Ella = Ash Ella

Lizzie Hearts= Liam Hearts

Blondie locks= Brody Locks

Cerise Hood= Crimson Hood

Madeline Hatter= Mason Hatter

Melody piper = Ryder Piper/Rhythm Piper (can't decide over these two names)

Darling charming= Dashing Charming

Chase Redford= Charlie Redford

Courtly Jester= Gallant Jester

Duchess swan= Duke Swan

#fanfiction #request box #character x reader #x reader #ever after high x reader #monster high x reader #genderbent #character list #ever after high #monster high x you #monster high #x female y/n #x gender neutral reader #x reader fanfiction #rules in requesting #please request #request open

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gothicgender · 10 months ago

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Navigation🕸

Salutations, welcome to my blog. I'm Blake but you can call me blaky or Liu aswell, however you prefer ! To say something about me I use they/them or neutral pronouns and want to become a writer. I may have bad grammar because I'm not english.

Requests - open

Request rules :

I will write for my fandoms because I'm more used to them.

The fandoms I'll write for are Hazbin Hotel, creepypasta, monster high, harry potter and maybe teen titans.

I am comfortable writing fluff, smut, angst, romantic, platonic and other stuff requested...tho I won't write smut that is too freaky or with weird kinks that I'm no comfortable with.

I can write fem, male and gender-neutral reader.

I can write headcanons or small fics about ships I also like because find it more easy then to write a ship I don't see happening or that I personally don't like.

I wouldn't like to be rushed with requests because it can be really stressful !

Do not be afraid to request and be specific with it !

Characters I will write for !

Hazbin hotel :

Chalie

Vaggie

Alastor

Angel Dust

Husk

Sir Pentious

Cherry Bomb

Rosie

The overlords (expect Valentino)

Lucifer

Lute

Adam (probably)

Mimzy (probably)

Katie Killjoy

Tom Trench

Ships I accept :

Charlie x Vaggie

Husk x Angel Dust

Valentino x Velvette x Vox (I believe they are poly)

Sir Pentious x Cherri Bomb

Carmila and Zestrial

Creepypasta :

Jeff the killer

Ben Drowned

Homicidal Liu

Bloody Painter

Ticci-Toby (probably)

Jason the toymaker

Candy Pop

Eyeless Jack

Hobo Heart

The puppeteer (maybe)

Kagekao

Laughing Jack

Nathan the nobody

Jane the Killer

Nina the killer (both versions)

Rogue

Kate the chaser

Nurse Ann

Suicide Sadie

Judge Angels

Clockwork

Zero

Lulu

Laughing Jill

Nemesis

Ships I accept :

Jane the killer x Mary (her canon wife)

Kagekao x Suicide Sadie

Bloody Painter x Judge Angels

Nurse Ann x Dr. Smiley

(other you can suggest)

Monster high (gen 1 or 2) :

Clawdeen Wolf

Draculaura Vike

Frankie Stein

Cleo de Nile

Lagoona Blue

Ghoulia Yelps

Abby Bominable

Jinafire Long

Iris Clops

Operetta

Robecca Steam

Rochelle Goyle

Scarah Screams

Skelita Calaveras

Spectra Vondergeist

Toralei Stripe

Purrsephone and Meowlody

Twyla Boogeyman

Venus McFlytrap

Marisol Coxi

C.A. Cupid

Casta Fierce

Elissabat

Clawdia Wolf

Viperine Gorgon

Deuce Gorgon

Clawd Wolf

Heath Burns

Holt Hyde

Invisi Billie

Jackson Jekyll

Neighthan Rot

Garrot du Roque

Kieran Valentine

Manny Taur

Ships I accept :

Clawdeen x Draculaura

Clawd x Draculaura

Cleo x Deuce

Abby x Heath

Ghoulia x Sloman

Frankie x Jackson

Spectra x Porter

Rochelle x Garrot

Scarah x Billie

Iris x Manny

Harry Potter :

Harry Potter

Ron Weasley

Hermione Granger

Fred and George Weasley

Percy Weasley

Alicia Spinnet

Lavender Brown

Parvati Patil

Dean Thomas

Neville Longbottom

Ginny Weasley

Lee Jordan

Angelina Johnson

Blaise Zabini

Pansy Parkinson

Tom Riddle

Theodore Nott

Daphne Greenglass

Millicent Bulstrode

Cho Chang

Padma Patil

Luna Lovegood

Marietta Edgecombe

Penelope Clearwater

Michael Corner

Hannah Abbott

Susan Bones

Cedric Diggory

Ships I accept :

Harry x Ginny

Ron x Hermione

Neville x Luna

Molly x Arthur Weasley

Bill x Fleur

Draco x Astoria

Angelina x Alicia

Teen Titans :

Robin (Dick Grayson)

Starfire

Raven

Beast Boy

Cyborg

Bumblebee

Blackfire

Terra

Madame Rogue

Chesire

Punk Rocket

Ships I accept :

Robin x Starfire

Raven x Beast Boy

Jinx x Kid Flash

This is all so far ! Thank you for visiting my page.

#hazbin hotel #creepypasta #harry potter #monster high #teen titans #writing

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morghangorgon · 3 years ago

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Some unfinished Valentine's sketches are better late than never (Abby crochets and makes clothes for her friends fight me)

I might not ever finish this but let's pretend we live in a world where I have the patience to draw granny squares

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kirqro · 7 months ago

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୨୧ ‘ loser els !

warnings || none !

{ just random head canons of my lil loser :( }

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆˚｡ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆

* loser!ellie ‘ who’s room is decked out in posters and random drawings she did ( SOME OF UU !! )

【☆】

* loser!ellie ‘ who said score and pumped her fist in the air after kissing you for the first time

【★】

* loser!ellie ‘ who brings you up no matter the topic of the conversation

“ Oh ya my girlfriend said the same thing..!” “My girl hates .. “

“ Yk my girlfriend and I …”

JS NO MATTER THE CONVO !

【☆】

* loser!ellie ‘ who has you scattered around all over her car and room !

Polaroids of the two of you guys kissing In her dashboard

Your rubber bands over her gear shift

Your clothes in her laundry basket

Your hair brush on her desk

AH CUTENESS .

【★】

*loser!ellie ‘ who’s palms are always sweaty and think she’s hot shit when she rests her hand on your thigh..

girl if u don’t get ur clammy aa hands OFF ..

【☆】

*loser!ellie ‘ who randomly squeezes your cheeks together

【★】

*loser!ellie ‘ who puts her arm out for you to take when you guys walk together and gets genuinely upset when you don’t hold onto her arm ..

【☆】

*loser!ellie ‘ who watches instagram reels and laughs her ass off

she sends you them when you’re right next to her and waits for your reaction

【★】

*loser!ellie ‘ who accidentally calls you bro , brother , and dude WAY TO MUCH. But gets mad when you do it to her :(

“Bro guess what Dina just told me”

“What did she tell you BRO.”

“BRO? WHA. oh!.. I’m sorry my perfect Angel baby cakes please”

【☆】

*loser!ellie ‘ who has the weirdest nicknames for you.. girl has once called you acorn and didn’t know why you side eyed her for it after it left her lips

【★】

*loser!ellie ‘ who thinks you are the prettiest person ever on the planet earth .

Sometimes you can catch her staring at you with pure love in her eyes .

【☆】

*loser!ellie ‘ who is so baby girl and wouldn’t hurt a fly!! ( she is a mass murderer .. )

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆˚｡ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆

Hii bbys !! This is my first official post :))

I had sm fun writing theses about our silly lil els ! Soo maybe part 2??

Constructive criticism is appreciated but PLSS be nice ..!

TYSMM FOR READIN ILY!

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆˚｡ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆

daily click for Palestine !!

- from the river to the sea Palestine WILL be free 🍉

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams x you #loser!ellie #tlou #tlou2 #tlou fanfiction #abby tlou #ellie the last of us #»-♡→ ‘ Cupid yaps #ellie fluff

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ellie-s-list · 2 years ago

Text

Light in the Darkness (2)

Abby Anderson X Fem!Reader, College AU, Part 2

Pt. 1 Pt. 3 Pt. 4

Second part!!! I hope you like :)

TW: Anxiety, Irrational thinking

Chapter 2

Hot Mess, Cobra Starships

“You think you’re hot shit,

—Well you’re a hot mess and I’m falling for you

And I’m like hot damn, let me make you my boo,”

The ninth week of class ended quickly enough. Two days a week you had both lecture and lab, four times a week you had to see Abby and talk to her. Abby’s not bad, actually she’s cool and it’s getting harder to forget your attraction for the buff blonde. One thing she does is always text you first, and you always try to text back, but sometimes you don’t know what to say.

Your phone pinged from its spot on your bed. Pulling on your sweatshirt, you turned to grab your phone. Sitting, you hoped it was a text from your friend group cancelling plans last minute. Yet, your hopes never came to fruition, as it was your friend, Tatum, telling you she was here to pick you and your roommate up.

Exiting your room, you saw Max putting his shoes on, “You ready?” You asked and he nodded.

In the car your phone pinged once again. You were in the passengers’ seat of Tatum’s Prius. Bailey, Tatum’s roommate, and Max were in the back seat. You picked your phone up from your lap and saw a message from Abby.

From Abby (Chad)

Do you have plans tonight?

To Abby

Sadly, yes. Can’t stay home forever unfortunately.

From Abby (Chad)

Rough.

“We’re here,” Tatum stated, causing you to put your phone away.

The bowling alley was packed, which made sense since it was a Friday night. Your group managed to get an alley with a table, and all four of you were able to grab preferred bowling balls. Half-way through the first game a group came in and was able to grab the lane next to yours. They grabbed the corresponding table as well and a certain blonde braid caught your eye.

Abby and her friends were at that table. It seemed that she hadn't seen you yet, so you turned back to your table, back now facing Abby and her group. You secretly hoped that she would see you, that she would reach out first. But there was no reason to, she was with her friends.

“Oh,” Tatum pops up, looking at her phone, “Our pizza’s done.”

“I’ll go with, I want a drink,” You state, getting up with her. You followed her to grab the pizza, Tatum paying for it and you paying for an 8 oz Red Bull can.

On your way back, you passed Abby’s table. A voice caused you and Tatum to stop walking, just a few feet away from your group.

“Those are bad for you, you know,” Said a pasty man with a slightly grown out blond buzz cut. His eyes screamed with a sense of superiority, arm hanging off the back of his chair. A second after his claim, you met eyes with Abby. Her blue eyes widened, recognizing who her friend was talking to.

“Owen-” She came to your defense but you held your hand up.

Opening the Red Bull can, you took one hand and flipped Owen off. The other hand that was holding the Red Bull tipped the can back onto your lips, and you then proceeded to chug the contents of the bubbly energy drink. The drink burned your throat, but you kept going until there was nothing left in the can. When you finished, you took the hand that was flipping Owen off and burped behind it with a smirk.

Owen looked horrified, maybe even disgusted. You didn’t care, leaning down to look him in the eyes. “You know, Owen was it?” You ask, taking on a mocking tone to your voice. “Your mom seems to like it when I have enough energy to fuck her more than once.” His face morphed into genuine disgust, probably at the thought of you possibly screwing his mom. You kind of hoped that she was hot, making it more plausible in his mind that it could happen.

Rising to your original height you put a hand on Tatum’s shoulder, “I’d love to stay and get to know you, maybe I’ll see you at Thanksgiving with your mother.” Turning, you directed a frozen Tatum back to your groups table. Tatum placed the pizza on the table, you placing your can on the table as well so you could open the box.

“Stop gawking like hungry birds and grab a slice,” You say, looking up from the pizza to your friends. The only one who wasn’t that shocked was Max, who was your childhood best friend. He knew you more than virtually anyone else, knowing that what you did was an act of defiance. You were a ‘brat’, as he put it, and you didn’t mind because it caused people that you didn’t like to not talk to you anymore. Sometimes it was amusing, watching people try to figure out what you meant.

Everything went back to normal after you handed out plates of pizza, the game ensuing and Max winning with two strikes at the end. You weren’t particularly good at bowling, having rarely done it, but you found it amusing and it was a nice way to hang out with your friends without having to go to a rowdy club.

Someone had to say something at one point, and that someone was Tatum. “That was cool,” She said, looking at you, “What you did back there.”

“Yeah,” Bailey agreed, coming back from bowling first at the start of the second game. “Badass,” She took her seat.

Max shook his head, laughing. “She’s a brat, what she did there was brat energy.”

“I may be a brat but it works,” You defend yourself, glaring playfully at your friend.

“Either way,” Bailey shrugged, waving Max off. “It was by far a big ‘fuck you’ moment and I’m living for it.”

For the rest of the bight, your anxiety ate away at you. Owen was clearly Abby’s friend, hence them sitting at the same table. But Abby seemed to try to defend you, but you also now have to face her on Tuesday, and if Abby didn’t like you anymore, it would be super awkward. These thoughts plagued you, swarming in circles in your mind. Your knee was bouncing, you only conscious of it when it hit the underside of the table. Maybe you shouldn’t have chugged the Red Bull, maybe a sip was better.

Your phone buzzed on the table, your hand subconsciously already going to grab it. Opening the phone you saw that Abby texted you. What could it be? Maybe she wanted to change to a different partner. It wouldn’t be too late, she could change and you could do it alone. But it wasn’t any of that.

From Abby (Chad)

You good?

To Abby (Chad)

Yeah, why?

From Abby (Chad)

You’re not good at hiding your anxiety

This caused you to turn around in your chair, looking towards Abby. She was already looking at you, not so discreetly. Owen had changed to sit at a different part of the table, glaring towards you every once and a while. Abby though, had concern written on her face. You turned back around, responding.

To Abby (Chad)

Wasn’t trying to hide it, thought out was obvious, Chad

From Abby (Chad) Chaderson

Why Chad?

To Abby (Chad) Chaderson

Pay me for an answer

Abby didn’t reply right away. Which was fine because it was your turn to bowl. After your turn, you looked at Abby and saw her getting up to bowl. You sat down and grabbed your phone, noticing a message from Abby.

From Abby (Chad)

With what?

To Abby (Chad)

The shoulds a million children

Abby must have been done bowling, since there was a huff from the table behind you. This caused you to smirk, putting your phone down to focus on the last round of the second game.

That next Tuesday came by quickly. Abby’s been texting you more often, usually sliding away from the topic of the project every time. You didn’t mind, actually liking the conversations.

From Abby (Chad)

Weird question

Frowning, you stared at the text message. You were sitting on your dorm room’s couch, playing a video game.

To Abby

Yeah?

From Abby

Could I come over so we can work on the project?

Puzzled, you lightly bit your nail. Everything was going fine, having had classes on Tuesday and Thursday, you guys were actually right on track. Maybe she wanted to get it done early, so you typed back a yes with your dorm room number and building name attached.

From Abby

Sweet, be there soon

You kept playing your video game, although now distracted. Max wasn’t home, so you and your crush will be alone. Alone together, for God knows how long. Your stomach started feeling heavy as you paused your game, entering the war of thoughts in your mind.

Time must have gone by quicker than you thought, a knock being heard from the front door. Letting out a captured sigh, you stood up and approached the door.

Grasping the cold door handle, you open it to see the blonde that haunted your thoughts. She was wearing a maroon hoodie with black joggers, her hair in a low ponytail. A goofy grin adorned her face, eyes lighting up when they met yours.

“Hey,” You greet, stepping aside to let her in.

Abby walked in, allowing you to close the door behind her, “Hey.” She turned to watch as you walked over to the couch, gesturing to the coffee table.

“You can set your backpack on the table,” You state, taking your original seat on the couch.

Abby set her backpack down, sitting beside you. She was close, not terribly, but enough for it to not be normal.

“You like Detroit: Become Human?” Abby asks, causing you to look at her confused. She smiled at your reaction, nodding to the tv.

“I actually play a few different games, but this is my roommate's PS4,” You explain, pointing to the box full of games placed by the tv stand. “Those have both of our games, my PlayStations in my room. Do you play any games?” You ask, turning to look at her. She was close, too close for it to be normal. You flinched back at her proximity, she looked you in the eyes, her gaze going down to your lips then back up to your eyes slowly.

Before anything else could happen your dorm room door opened, someone slamming it behind them.

You peered past Abby, seeing that it was Tatum. Tatum was calling your name, all frustrated. She didn’t seem to know Abby was here, the blonde calling you a ‘useless lesbian.’ Realization dawned on her face when she noticed Abby sitting beside you, her body somewhat hiding your own from Tatum’s stare.

“Oh, um,” Tatum blushed, rubbing the back of her head.

Rolling your eyes, you leaned onto your knees, “I’d like to say I have many uses as a lesbian.”

Tatum seemed frozen, “I didn’t know you had anyone over.” She was bright red, you took in her skimpy outfit. She must have been on a Tinder date, trying to blow off steam. It must not have gone as planned.

“I’m guessing you didn’t get laid?” Abby looked at you, confused with your blatant question towards your friend. You didn’t look back, instead watching Tatum walk over.

“Yeah.”

“Thought so, Tatum,” You gestured to Abby, “This is my lab partner, Abby.” Abby nodded to Tatum, giving a small wave.

Tatum then smirked, looking at you with a suggestive look, “Were you-”

“Do you want a drink? Let me show you the new pop Max got,” You stood up quickly, walking over to grab Tatum’s arm. Directing her to the kitchen, you turn and whisper, “She’s just a friend.”

“I’m sorry, it didn’t seem like it,” Tatum wiggled her brows, she then turned serious, “Do you want me to leave?”

You shook your head, “I don’t want to do school work, so you should definitely stay and distract us.”

“It didn’t look like you were doing school work.”

“Shut up.”

For the next couple hours, you, Tatum, and Abby talked while you played through Detroit: Become Human. Abby and Tatum seemed to click, which was great. But as you played, you tuned Tatum and Abby out. Tatum outed you as a lesbian to Abby, which could be in your favor, hence your budding crush on the buff blonde. She may get the hint. Abby’s also showing interest, she may have kissed you if Tatum didn’t barge in. Would you have kissed her back? Did you want her to kiss you? It’s not like you had much experience in dating, your first ever girlfriend breaking up with you as soon as school started. It wasn’t even that big of a deal, only having kissed each other a few times.

You lacked experience, but Abby seemed patient. Hopefully she isn’t even thinking about how much experience you could possibly have in dating.

“Well, I should leave so you two can get back to your project,” Tatum said, standing from her seat next to the couch. Her declaration caught your attention, causing you to pause your game.

“Have a good day,” You smile as she puts her shoes on at the door.

“It was nice meeting you,” Abby waved as Tatum waved back, closing the door behind her.

And here it was, you were alone again with Abby. She turned to you, cocking her head. “Do you want to work on the project?” She asked.

You frowned, shaking your head. “I’d rather play video games.”

Abby smiled lightly, going to grab her backpack. You grabbed her wrist, causing her to look down at you, “I have another controller.”

“Yeah?”

“And Mario Kart.”

“Compelling argument, I’m in.”

WC: 2,291

Date posted: 4/10/2023 @6:00 am

Tag list: @melaniin-monroe

If you want to join the tag list just message me!! :)

#tlou #tlou2 #Abby #Abby Anderson #Abby Anderson x reader #Abby Anderson x fem!reader #x fem!reader #wlw #Owen #Owen slander sunday #on a Monday #Spotify #cupid is so dumb

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hawkmothdiemotte · 2 years ago

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I did a thing

I kinda like making comics now and these two live in my head rent free

#my art #my artwork #my stuff #monster high #mh #mh fanart #abby bominable #c.a. cupid #c.a. cupid x abbey bominable #mini comic

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sereinegemini · 3 years ago

Text

i want to snuggle in bed and drink with remmy 👿

Melted Hearts (R.L.)

Word Count: 0.8k

Summary: Falling in love over cigarettes and bad weather

Notes: Friends to lovers fluff; smoking, mentions of drinking, slight cursing, short and sweet.

“That’s it,” Remus spoke, standing and rubbing his hands over his face.

“I need a cigarette.”

Keep reading

#also this was beautiful omg #cupid 🤍#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #abby’s recs

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punkrockmads · 3 years ago

Text

Found Family

Abby x F! Reader Mini Series

Warnings: Mentions of rape, extreme fluff, brief hints at "mommy kink" and sexual notions

Chapter Five; Big Brother

*FOUR MONTHS PREGNANT*

A sweet, relaxing song plays from the record player. Honeybee by Steam Powered Giraffe. My absolute favorite. I sing along with the lyrics, swaying side to side slowly as I fold laundry. Abby's downstairs washing dishes, the two of us working on our early morning chores while Lev sleeps in. It's nice that the three of us get weekends off. It gives us a break and time to spend with each other.

My stomach has grown quite a bit, making my pregnancy harder to hide and my clothes harder to fit into. I've stolen many of Abby's shirts these past couple of months. Abby and I plan on telling Lev about the baby when he wakes up, especially since tomorrow is the day we finally get to know the gender of the baby.

'You didn't have to smile at me

Your grin's the sweetest

That I've ever seen

But you did

Yes you did'

As I sing along, lost in thought, I don't even notice Abby sneak into the bedroom, tip toeing up behind me.

"Gotcha!" She yells, grabbing my waist. I scream, nearly jumping out of my skin as I drop the shirt I was folding. Abby laughs, tickling my sides.

"Asshole!" I laugh, putting my hands over hers. "You coulda given me a heart attack!"

"Oh, well we wouldn't want that, huh?" Abby teases, peppering my neck and jaw with kisses. "Didn't know you could sing." She mumbles against my cheek, swaying side to side with me.

"Eh." I shrug. "I'm not great at it."

"Well I think you have the voice of an angel." Abby says, turning me around to face her. I drape my arms over her shoulders, the laundry long forgotten as I get lost in Abby's smile.

"Sap." I smile.

She laughs, kissing me softly. "You ready to tell Lev?"

"Mhm." I nod, turning back around to finish folding the laundry. That's when the baby shifts around a little in my stomach. "Woah!" I put my hand on my stomach, rubbing circles to try to calm the baby. It's always so active in the morning. I wish Abby could feel it but the doctor said only a couple more months and she'll be able to feel it kicking.

"You okay?" Abby asks, standing next to me and looking at me with worried eyes.

"Oh, yeah." I smile. "Our baby just decided now's the time to do a little boogie."

Abby chuckles, kneeling in between me and the bed and holding my stomach. She lifts my shirt a little, sliding her hands underneath. "Hey, you little goober." She says to the little being. She kisses right above my navel. "It's too early to be squirmin' around in there, you're distracting mommy!"

I smile at the new title. "Mommy, huh?" I run my fingers through Abby's hair, messing up her braid a little. She looks up at me with a smile.

"C'mon." She chuckles. "We both know I'm gonna be momma." I pretend to think it over, putting a finger to my chin.

"Hmm. I could get used to that." I laugh, gently cupping Abby's face and guiding her back up. She hums, kissing my lips. "But say it again just in case." I mumble against her lips.

"What- which one?" Abby laughs. I laugh with her, reaching back and grabbing her ass. I pull her closer to me, our bodies pressed against each other.

"Both of them." I laugh. She puts her hands on my hips, fingers pressing into the skin gently.

"Well..." Abby pauses, a hint of excitement in her eyes. I have no doubt mine look the same. "You would be..." She pauses again, kissing me. "Mommy." I laugh a little as she beams down at me. "And I..." Another kiss. "would be..." I hum into the third kiss. "Momma." Her grip on my waist has tightened a little.

"Oh yeah." I laugh. "I can get used to this."

Abby grins, a fire growing in her hazel eyes. "Good." She chuckles.

A loud thud from across the hall tears us out of our thoughts. Lev's room! The two of us immediately run into his room, seeing him sitting on the floor rubbing the back of his head. "Ouch." He groans.

"Lev, are you okay?" I ask, a hand over my frantically beating heart.

"Yeah. Sorry." Lev says, standing up. "Fell out of bed." He sighs. Abby and I look at each other, holding back laughs. "Don't you dare laugh!" Lev points at us, holding back his own laughter.

"We're not laughing!" Abby snorts. "Just... it's a little funny." She bites her lip, a wide grin on her face.

"Shut up." Lev says, trying unsuccessfully to hide his smile. I decide it's finally time we tell him about the baby.

"Hey, Lev?" I pause as he looks at me. "Come on downstairs and eat breakfast. Abby and I gotta tell you somethin'." I make it seem as casual as possible, trying to pass it off as some kind of patrol orders or something.

"Okay." Lev nods. "I'll be down in a second." Abby and I head downstairs, a little worried about how Lev will react. The two of us sit in the living room, watching some random movie while we wait for Lev. After a few minutes, he walks in with a bowl of cereal, sitting next to me on the couch, putting me in between two of my three favorite people. "So, what did you wanna tell me?" Lev asks, taking a bite of his cereal.

I take a deep breath, picking at my nails as I will myself to tell Lev what I should've told him months ago. "Lev, I'm pregnant." It comes out clear and calm, my voice hiding how nervous I am. Lev puts his spoon down, looking between Abby and I with a confused frown.

"But..." He pauses. "I thought girls can't get each other pregnant unless one of them has a-"

"They can't." Abby cuts him off, speaking gently. She gets up, moving to kneel in front of him. "Lev, do you remember when I told you that the Rattlers hurt Y/N really bad?" Lev nods. "They did... inappropriate things to her without her consent." Abby tenses up, looking at me for approval to keep going. I place a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly to let her know it's okay. "Do you remember what that's called?" Lev nods, scared to say the actual word in front of me. I don't blame him, I'm scared to use the word myself.

"Lev, honey." He looks at me with the most sincere and pitiful eyes. "What happened to me was... it was awful. But this baby... it's not. Abby and I wanna keep it and we... we want you to be it's big brother. If you want to, of course."

Lev's eyes light up with joy. "You mean I get a little sister?!" Abby and I laugh at his enthusiasm.

"We don't know if it's a girl or boy yet, goober." Abby stands up, ruffling Lev's hair before sitting back down beside me. "But yes, in a few months, you'll have a little sibling. Y/N's already four months along now."

"Holy shit." Lev whispers. "Can... can I see?" He asks, referring to my stomach. I nod, lifting my (Abby's) shirt past my stomach to let him see the bump that was getting harder and harder to conceal. "There's a baby in there?!" Lev asks, looking up at me in amazement. I nod, smiling at him.

Lev reaches to put a hand on my stomach, hesitating for a moment. "Go ahead." I say. "It's okay." He puts his hand on my stomach, moving it along the curve.

"Woah!" Lev laughs. "Wait... is this why I haven't been allowed in the guest room?" He glares up at Abby and she smiles.

"Yeah." Abby shrugs. "We've been turning it into the baby's room. Wanted it to be a surprise." The baby moves, causing me to flinch a little out of shock.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Lev asks, taking his hand off my stomach.

"Nono it's okay." I assure him, guiding his hand back to the bump. "The baby's moving around in there."

"Really?!" Lev moves to press his ear to my stomach.

"Yeah." I chuckle. "I think it can sense your touch. It's saying 'Hi, big brother!'" Lev laughs, trying to see if he can hear the baby moving.

"In about a month, we'll be able to feel it kick." Abby says. "And we might even be able to see it moving." She remembers the last bit from one of the dozens of pregnancy books and articles she's started bringing home. She's read each one at least twice in order to know everything she can about the baby and pregnancy. It's cute that she's trying to be so prepared. As Abby starts listing off a few more facts she read, the baby shifts in a way that almost feels like it's doing a backflip in my stomach, causing me to let out an involuntary gasp. "Y/N?!" Abby puts a hand on my back, her and Lev looking at me cautiously.

"Jesus." I let out a breathy laugh. "Little bean's groovin' in there." Abby and Lev laugh at my description of the baby moving. It moves again. "Is it trying to do the Cupid Shuffle?!" The three of us laugh harder.

"I think it's saying 'Mommy, you need to eat! We're starving!'" Abby grins, rubbing my back.

"Alriiight." I sigh. "Guess I do need to eat." Abby, Lev and I spend the rest of the day cuddled up on the couch, watching movies and talking about the baby as well as telling stories from our adventures. Lev tells me about the time Abby tried to teach him Backgammon and Abby tells me about her encounter with the Rat King. I rest my head on Abby's shoulder, feeling perfectly content sitting beside my family.

The next morning, the three of us head to the infirmary to find out the gender of the baby. After another ultrasound, the doctor comes in with a clipboard. "The baby's in perfect health, Mrs. Anderson!" He says. At first, I think he's talking to Abby, but he's looking directly at me. I glance at Abby and she winks with a playful smile. Ah, of course. She's the one who put 'Y/N Anderson' in my file. Honestly... I can't complain. It fits perfectly; shows that Abby and I are together. I'm hers, she's mine. "It looks like you're about nineteen and a half weeks along. The baby is right where it should be in the development stages."

"And the gender?" I ask, grabbing Lev and Abby's hands.

"Mrs. and Mrs. Anderson..." He pauses for dramatic effect, smiling at us. I feel my breath hitch in my throat, so extremely excited. "In just a few months, you will be bringing a beautiful baby girl into the world!" Abby immediately pulls me into a hug, squeezing me carefully as I hug back. The two of us cry, absolutely overjoyed.

Lev stands up on his chair, raising his fists in the air. "I knew it! I fucking knew it!"

#the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou2 #tlou #lgbtq #abby tlou #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #lev tlou

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