pixie @abbyscoins - Tumblr Blog

something overwhelming, something everlasting

pairing: WLF!Abby x f!reader

content & warnings: unintentional trespasser reader turned WLF, canonical violence, slow burn romance, angst, fluff, no use of y/n, no reader description, character death, smut (18+) (to be updated)

men + minors dni

chapter rundown: work and play >:), reader’s first WLF party, mild sexual harassment, abby comes back to reader’s room??????????? :0

a/n: i love love love this chapter guys i’m ngl

word count: 3.7k

Chapter Three: Back to your room

Upon entering the kitchen just before 11:30 to begin preparing for the lunch rush, it was quiet.

‘Hey? Anyone in?’ You called out as you tied your apron around your waist.

‘Yeah, back here!’ You heard a muffled voice call from the pantry. It sounded like Sam, a gentle giant of a man who had been quiet and reproachful for the first few weeks that you were here. You barely spoke, working in comfortable silence whenever your shifts crossed. He seemed nice enough, always well-mannered. It wasn’t until, one afternoon, while walking through the double doors with perhaps one-too-many heavy crates of vegetables, he slipped, breaking the ice of acquaintanceship between the two of you. And possibly a rib.

Flinging the greenery up in the air and in all directions, he crashed onto the linoleum, yelping as he went.

‘Oh my god! Sam!’ You exclaimed, rushing over with a hand shooting up to cover your mouth, unsure what to do.

He held up a hand, ‘I’m fine, I’m fine, nothing but a bruised ego,’ He shifted his body into an upright position, legs splayed out in front of him. ‘Ouch— and a bruised ass, apparently, fuck…’ You stopped in your tracks, making momentary eye contact. Then, you both burst out laughing. You couldn’t stop yourself; you laughed so much that you ended up on the floor, too, hands clutched over your aching stomach, tears in your eyes. You don’t know why this event triggered such a reaction from you, but it felt so good to laugh.

After helping him collect the vegetables from under the tables and triple checking he was really alright, you had been comfortable making pleasant conversation with each other for the rest of your shift. You shared embarrassing and awkward stories with one another. It was a nice, wholesome way to grow your friendship.

Sam must have been quite a bit older than you, in his late 30s, early 40s, maybe. He was married, his younger wife was a soldier, and he spoke of her often.

‘I know she’s strong, capable. So, I’m not trying to… But… you know,’

‘You miss her?’

‘Yeah! I miss her. And I worry. I know she can handle herself out there, but there’s always so many possibilities…’

‘I understand,’ you offered him a comforting smile, ‘It’s only natural to worry about the people you love.’

‘Right.’ He agreed, wiping the sweat off of his brow with a hand towel.

Just then, Polly entered the room swiftly, a low grunting sounded from her as she moved through the room. The energy shifted awkwardly; you and Sam shared a confused look as you continued peeling vegetables, and he prepared the salmon. She seemed slightly off this morning.

‘Hey, Polly,’ you tried greeting her. She slowed her pace a little, turning to you, giving you a slight huff of a returned hello.

A few minutes of awkward silence filled the air of the kitchen as everyone worked, no one knowing quite what to say with the newfound uncomfortable tension.

‘Everything alright, Pol?’ Sam attempted again, trying to sound as upbeat as possible.

‘Not really, son. This one’s got me all worked up!’

‘Me?’ you stood, slightly surprised at her finger jabbing your way out of the corner of your eye.

‘Yea, you, missy. I don’t like seein’ ya hangin’ out with all the wrong crowd. It’s not sittin’ right.’

You and Sam shared a look, unsure about how to approach this outburst.

‘Sam is our coworker, Polly… We were just chatting. But I understand if you want us to get on with working—’

‘Not ‘im! You know who!’ She huffed, exasperated, rolling her eyes and flinging her dish towel on a nearby surface.

You stood confused, wracking your brain thinking of anyone she could possibly be talking about. To your most recent knowledge, the only people you’d spoken to since the last time you saw Polly yesterday had been Sam, and Nora outside this morning.

‘How did you…? Polly what are you talking about?’

‘You know what I’m talkin’ about. I just worry about you, kid. I don’t want anyone messin’ with ya.’

‘Why would anyone be messing with me? Look Polly, I appreciate you worryi—’ She glanced at you with a cold expression filling her hazel eyes. Your stomach dropped, a feeling of discomfort washing over you.

You desperately wanted to set some boundaries, recalling the conversation at the dinner table a few weeks ago where you’d been called Polly’s ‘new project’. You had assumed it was only people judging Polly based on her strangeness. She had been nothing but helpful to you, sometimes giving you some criticism here and there, just like a manager does. But nothing so out of the blue, so out of her realm of business. Was she spying on you? The thought sent a cold shiver down your spine. You had to remind yourself that she was older, she might just be slightly confused or having a bad day. But, if it was Nora she was talking about, what did she have against her? And why was she watching you?

The shift passed slowly, awkwardly. You had been thinking about the invite from Nora, tossing the idea around in your head. You hadn’t planned to make an appearance, to be honest; you appreciated the offer, it was kind. You wanted to get to know Nora more, and you hoped you would become closer if you’d be seeing more of each other out on the track. But, you were tired, and unprepared.

Now, though, you felt an odd sense of rebellion. You didn’t want to feel like a teenager; she can’t tell me what to do, kind of stuff, but you felt a searing desire to go against what Polly said. You respected Polly, but you were your own woman. You weren’t meek and easily pliable like you know you came across when first arriving here.

Fuck it, you thought. Couldn’t hurt to show up for a little while.

As you walked up the corridor, following the small sea of people all chattering excitedly, the music slowly got louder, as did the sound of your heart in your ears. It would be fine. You would go in, see what the fuss was about, maybe see Nora and say hi, then go back up to your room and tick off the ‘be sociable’ mental to-do for the week.

When you enter the moderately crowded room, you don’t see Nora anywhere. You spend a few minutes walking around to see if you could spot her. Failing that, you then settled by the table of drinks for a while, sipping on something sweet that was being served in a bowl with a ladle, like some high school prom.

‘Hey, you want another drink?’ You turned to see a tall man, slightly wobbly on his feet, looking at you with glassy dark eyes. He had a disconcerting smirk on his dry lips as he looked you up and down, his head tilting slightly.

‘Nah, I’m good.’ You gave your response, short and direct.

‘Oh, c’mon. You’re standing here all alone, let me give you some company,’ He bargained, and you got the feeling it wasn’t an offer, but an insertion of his presence into your night.

‘Look, I’m just here to say hi to someone, alright? I don’t need your company,’ You looked him in the eye, frowning. You never had much patience for men like this, nor was your toleration getting any stronger as the years of survival dragged on. If there was one thing you hated most, it was the fact that men thought you were an easy target. You weren’t necessarily intimidating, but you could certainly hold your own, and being underestimated was a key component in the take down of quite a few people with bad intentions when you had been travelling across the country.

‘Pssh. You think you’re something special, doncha? You—’

‘Hey,’ A voice from behind you firmly stated. When you turned, Abby’s eyes were trained on him. As much as you thought her face was sweet, she looked almost mad in the dim orange glow of the room. Her eyes shone with intensity, something more than annoyance, as she stood with a hand on her hip.

‘Abby?’ The man stood up straight, facial expression dropping slightly. ‘Oh, you’re the one she’s waiting for? My bad, I didn’t—’

‘Danny,’ She interrupted, shaking her head. ‘C’mon, man, what is wrong with you?’

Danny looked away for a second, seeming embarrassed. Abby placed her hand lightly between your shoulder blades, beginning to lead you away, barely breaking her eyes away from him until she turned around.

Once you’d gotten to a quieter corner of the party, Abby let her arm drop from your back.

‘Sorry, for grabbing you like that. I didn’t mean to seem…’ She looked flustered, uncomfortable, like after the adrenaline of the situation passed, she regretted getting involved at all. One of her hands found the back of her neck in a self-comforting action, ‘Danny is a dick. I thought I should come help, but I know you didn’t need it… I’ll just—’ She shifted awkwardly, pointing a thumb in a vague direction as she turned to leave.

‘Abby, wait,’ you reached out to stop her, suddenly thinking better of touching her, and stepping back. Still, she stopped and waited for you to continue. ‘You don’t have to be sorry. Thanks for, you know, being my hero,’ You teased, giving her a gentle nudge on the arm, smiling to let her know you weren’t mad or uncomfortable with her intrusion.

Her frame softened slightly, facial muscles relaxing. It was then that you took in what she was wearing. A tight-fitted long sleeve in a shade of blue that matched her eyes, with dark belted jeans and her boots. The way the sleeves hugged her arms caused you to consciously have to refrain from biting into your bottom lip.

‘Yeah, no problem.’ She sighed slightly, looking down at the floor.

‘You look good, by the way,’ You said, ‘I mean, I like your outfit,’ You quickly added, realising you probably sounded far too forward.

‘Thanks, I didn’t know what to wear. I don’t often participate in…’ She gestured around the large hall, ‘The binge drinking sessions, I guess. Usually better things to do,’ She concluded, a slight blush blooming across her cheeks. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I get along with the others, but they can be a handful. Especially with alcohol involved.’

‘I don’t like parties,’ You sympathised, ‘I only heard about it this morning, so I thought I should at least check it out… I might head out soon,’

‘I can walk you back.’

‘I couldn’t ask you to do that—’

‘Hey, I’m offering.’ she interjected softly. She didn’t know what had come over her, whether it was the alcohol talking or the weeks of trying to get you out of her mind, only to have you claw your way back in; whichever it was, it made her disregard every self-disciplined bone in her body the second she saw you being bothered across the room. So much for letting you come to her.

‘Okay, that would be nice,’ you agreed.

On your way up to your room, you walked in comfortable silence, Abby occasionally taking two steps at a time on the stairs, waiting for you at every turn. You had the impression she was either nervous, or you just walked too slow for her.

‘Thanks,’ you smiled as you reached your door. ‘Hey, you wanna come in for a bit?’ You thought it polite to ask, even though you were certain she’d decline.

‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Just for a little, I have to be up tomorrow.’

You tried not to look surprised as you turned the key in your door, heartbeat stuttering. Abby was going to be in your room. If someone had told you that information when you woke up this morning, you would have rolled your eyes and scoffed in true sceptic fashion.

‘Welcome. Humble abode, and all that,’ You threw over your shoulder, taking your jacket off and throwing it messily on the table, kicking your boots off at the same time.

She chuckled, giving you a once over as she ventured into the room. She looked around, wandering over to the bookshelf against the wall. She saw your various trinkets on the top shelf, nosily scrutinising them, curious about the things you were collecting. You had a little pot full of cool looking stones, as well as various dried flowers, plants and herbs all tied together with a piece of frayed string. She noticed a tiny wooden carved dog figurine, about the size of her pinkie finger, hidden in the corner of the shelf. It was as if you had purposely put him there, facing the wall.

Her finger traced the books you kept on the middle shelf, her brow furrowed attentively. You watched her from the table, taking in her subtle reactions to each title she recognised. Seeing her in your space was making your mind race, and the warmth of alcohol in your system wasn’t helping.

‘I love this one,’ she picked out a battered novel, spine cracked in multiple places, suggesting it to be well-loved by you, too.

‘It’s one of my favourites,’ you beamed, ‘When I found it, I was so excited. I must have read it three times through since being here. There’s something so comforting about the sisters. God, it breaks my heart, but it’s beautiful. Young female protagonists are just— Sorry, ranting…’

When you looked up, she was looking at you, a soft smile playing on her lips.

‘No, don’t be sorry. I like that you’re passionate,’ She carefully placed the book back on the shelf. ‘Almost cried the first time I read it, so I get it,’

‘Oh, I did too,’ You laughed. ‘Like a baby.’

She smiled, drumming her hands awkwardly on the shelf, still looking around the room –taking everything in – committing your organised mess to memory.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ You offered, unsure of what to say next.

‘I’ll hate myself for it tomorrow, but yes,’

You walked over to the kitchenette, her following close behind. You reached into a cabinet, fishing around in the back for the bottle Polly had given you; it was some concoction she had been brewing bottles of for years, apparently. It tasted like shit, but it certainly did its job. You poured a couple of shot’s worth into two lowball glasses and handed her one, clinking your cups before taking a drink.

‘God—what is that?’ She grimaced, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

You laughed at her expression, ‘Something Polly makes. It’s just fermented old fruit, or something. It really is bad, though,’

Her frame stiffened at the mention of Polly, but she quickly shook it off, hoping you would put it down to the drink, if you noticed at all.

‘I should know better than to be taking drink offers from strangers in their rooms…’ She changed the subject, taking another sip and peeking out of the corner of her eye for a reaction.

‘Hey! Are you suggesting I’d drug you?! We’re not strangers… Not really,’ You feigned offence, pushing her lightly. ‘And besides, how would I even go about getting something like that? I’d have to go rummaging—'

‘Oh my god, why are you actually thinking about it?!’ She laughed, highly amused by your tangent. ‘Anyway, you couldn’t trick me like that even if you tried,’ She continued poking fun at you, turning and making her way to the living area. She seemed so comfortable. You stayed where you were for a moment, starting to wonder how this woman could be so complex. She was difficult to understand the essence of, even after being aware of her for so long. You had seen her act cold towards people, towards you. Yet when she was warm, God she was warm.

‘Are you coming?’ She paused.

‘Yeah.’ You followed her to your couch, and you both sat, you with your legs up underneath you, her with one foot planted on the ground, the other knee lazily hanging half on the chair, so she was angled facing you. It was a small couch, so you were quite close, but it didn’t bother you; you already felt so normal about interacting with her and having her here.

‘So… when you’re out there, y’know, patrolling…’

‘Oh God, work talk?’ she sighed, but she looked at you attentively, waiting for you to continue.

‘Well, I was just wondering… if you ever get scared. Out there.’ You gestured. You felt like the alcohol was impairing your ability to make conversation, but Abby didn’t seem to mind much.

‘Sure, I do. I think anyone who says they don’t is either a liar or a psychopath,’ the phrase rolled off her tongue like she’s had this conversation lot of times before. ‘But… I don’t know. It’s just something I do. Scars are always hostile, and trespassers are most of the time, too. I respect Isacc, and I think he respects me…’ she trailed off, frowning slightly, looking down at her hands.

‘And what, you think he’s like… a reasonable man?’

She cocked her eyebrow at you. ‘What kind of question is that?’

‘Well, I don’t know. It seems a little extreme to go after regular people who might just need help,’

‘Well he let you in here, didn’t he?’ She took another sip of her drink, her expression unreadable.

‘I guess so.’ You frowned. An awkward pause lingered between you.

‘You must train like crazy,’ you say, slightly changing the subject, sensing her mind was racing with unwanted thoughts at the previous the line of conversation.

‘Well, yeah, it’s tough. But I like it. You don’t do any other training? Just cardio?’ she asked curiously.

‘Nah. I keep it simple, to be honest. I know it’s never bad to get a little stronger, I just wouldn’t know where to start with all of the weights. I know how to fight, obviously…’

‘I could train you,’ she put the offer out there casually, simply. Like it was an inevitability for you both.

‘You just wanna see me embarrass myself, don’t you?’

‘Not at all. Unless you’re into that…’

You shove her lightly, a blush threatening to bloom in your face. ‘Why would you say that?’

‘Sorry. You’re just fun to tease.’ She laughed, laying back and putting her hands behind her head. Her fingers brushed something soft behind the couch cushions.

‘What’s this?’ she pulled out a small, worn stuffed animal, it resembled a lamb, or maybe a goat? She couldn’t tell due to its ragged state.

‘Oh… that’s nothing. Well, not nothing. It’s mine— my toy. Not toy, well, from when I was a kid…’ You trailed off in your tipsy state, not knowing whether to burst into laughter or tears at your flustered explanation.

You looked up at Abby, and she had her eyes on you. They were soft, fond. You noticed her blue irises ran almost honey-coloured closer to the pupil, her thick lashes perfectly framing her pretty eye shape. She had a smile spread across her face. You untensed your shoulders a little, shaking your head and laying against the pillows, smiling.

‘Don’t judge me,’ you said in a drawn out and strained voice, grinning nonetheless, poking a finger at her side.

‘Wouldn’t dream of it,’ she teased, but her eyes shone with an earnestness that made your smile falter. You studied her face a little more as a comfortable silence fell over the room. You suddenly felt extremely aware of how close you were to her. She smelled good, warm, earthy. Like pine. You felt your teeth graze your lower lip inadvertently, looking at her… she was perfect. Her mouth, her bumped nose, her build. The scars that settled themselves on different parts of her body, like they were meant to be there — lightening streaking a thunderous sky — reminders of the fight in her. Though this juxtaposed her softer features – her freckles, her otherwise smooth skin – they somehow perfectly coincided. It made her complete, it made her Abby, you thought, your hazy mind laughing at your silly drunken clichés.

‘What’s his name?’

‘…Doobie. Don’t ask,’

She looked like she struggled refraining herself from laughing, but she managed. ‘You’re definitely telling me that story one day.’

She broke eye contact, placing your stuffie back between the cushions, patting them lightly. ‘There, safe and sound.’

You felt your eyelids growing soft and sleepy as you lay curled up on the couch, watching her.

‘You tired?’ She asked, appraising your cosy position. ‘I should get going…’

‘Wait, Abby—’ You rested a hand on her forearm. She waited. A beat of silence. ‘Just…stay for a little more.’ Your cheeks burned at the unchecked vulnerability, but you couldn’t have cared less about being subtle in that moment.

She looked down at your hand, perplexed, but didn’t attempt to get up again, yet. ‘Okay.’

She sat back, laying her head on the couch cushions for a while, pondering. She enjoyed listening to your breathing grow slow and rhythmic. Your hand was warm. When she dared turn to look at you again, your eyes were fully closed, lips slightly parted. She gently took your hand off her arm and got up as slowly as she could.

‘C’mon, sleepyhead.’ She spoke softly, gently pushing her arms underneath your slumbering frame and lifting you. She angled you into her chest so that your neck didn’t move so much as to wake you, and she carried you over to your bed.

Once she placed you down and covered you with the blanket, something flared in her chest. Likened to anxiety, but difficult to unthread properly in her mind. She looked at you for a moment longer, tenderly moving away a piece of hair that had fallen over your eyes. She then stood back up to her full height, sighing lightly as she turned to leave, not looking back as she closed the door quietly behind her.

taglist: @067supremacy, @rareanduselessbird, @petrichor222, @mxmsuki, @littlefirelilly, @carolinadyke, @marvelwomenarehot0, @chuvadejaneiro, @tthoroughfare, @abigail-andersons-wife, @jenniferfigueroa ♡︎

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

pixie