Oh my goshh I would HATEEEE👀👀👀👀if someone would use condescending praise with me👀👀👀👀like thats so weirddddddd👀👀👀or if they tell me im pathetic and dumb👀👀👀👀👀like who even likes that👀👀👀👀👀👀👀
𝑎/𝑛: hi!! this is my first fic ever so please be mindful of that. i tried to start with a simple idea, no smut, just some fluff and practice with characterisation. i’m used to heavy academic writing so apologies if this sounds too weighted. hope you enjoy :)
Ellie's nose was buried in her comic, using the pages as a shield against the splitting headache her astronomy lecture had left behind.
Camelopardus.
Apparently spending an hour and a half talking about the giraffe constellation at 8am was fascinating to her professor.
She had doodled through the entire lecture, covering the back of her notepad—the notepad she was supposed to be taking notes on—with a mess of stars, ringed planets, and comets. But the amount of procrastinated work that she had piling up was a problem for later. For now, all that mattered was the inked movie in her comic.
The surrounding streets disappeared into a background hum. Every second of her attention was dedicated to the chaos unfolding on the pages.
Then, someone slammed into her shoulder.
The force spun her sideways. Her comic flew from her clutch, fluttering into a dishevelled pile on the pavement. Her coffee burst from the cup, splattering across the other woman's chest.
Ellie let out a choked gasp.
Coffee dripped from the hem of the woman's shirt, the soaked fabric sticking to her skin.
Ellie could only form pathetic stutters and mumbles.
"Uh—"
"I…"
"Sorry—"
Ellie stepped back and took a better look at the woman. She towered over her. Baggy gym clothes now clung to her, revealing the lean, sculpted muscle beneath. Her hair had been tightly braided against her head, leaving no stray strands.
Ellie's shoulder had already started to ache. She could feel the spectacularly large bruise forming. However, the injury made sense, the woman was built like a brick wall.
Ellie forced herself to move her eyes to the woman's face. Her brows were furrowed, her mouth shaped in a down-turned 'O'. A faint blush warmed a scar crossing her cheek.
Ellie couldn't quite pinpoint the woman's emotions.
At last, Ellie mustered up a coherent sentence, "At least it's iced, otherwise it would be burning real bad."
Fucks sake, Ellie. Really? First the lecture, now I'm gonna get beaten up by this beast of a woman.
The woman stared at her for a moment, clearly surprised by the odd response.
Then she let out a slight chuckle, "Yeah, that makes me feel so much better about this."
"S-sorry. So sorry about that," Ellie choked out whilst tripping over her own shoe, practically falling over to retrieve her comic. It was now dripping with mud and wet dirt. Ellie pinched it and held it with an extended arm, both disappointed and disgusted.
"Might wanna read that while sitting next time," the woman mockingly cooed, now using her jumper to dab herself off.
"Yee," was Ellie's pathetic attempt at saying yeah.
She was admittedly distracted by the woman's demeanour. She carried herself with a confidence that Ellie admired.
Ellie felt a familiar hot flush swim up her neck.
She apologised again and again while awkwardly stumbling away, wanting the interaction to end as quickly as possible.
Ellie threw the comic away on the walk home, complaining profusely to Dina later in the afternoon.
Dina found it funny, teasing her about how unlucky she is when it comes to 'her type'. An exaggerated eye roll was all Ellie gave her snarky comments.
The morning sun kissed Ellie's cheek, warming the grouchy expression she held.
She didn't have any classes today, but she decided to go to the corner cafe anyway, hoping a coffee would shake off the irritable mood she'd woken up with.
She'd accidentally pulled an all-nighter by staring at the ceiling being angry with herself.
Social interaction made her feel so stupid. She couldn't even figure out how to apologise for spilling her own coffee on somebody. It's just her luck that that somebody actually seemed really kind and approachable. And pretty.
Ellie entered the small, cozy building. Warm air wrapped around her the moment she stepped inside, chipping away at her attitude. Better yet, the shop is almost always empty at this hour.
The baristas recognised her, offering a familiar smile before starting on her regular order.
Ellie set her bag down and was prepared to sit at a small single table by the window when she heard the clink of a cup.
She reflexively glanced over and immediately wished she hadn't.
There she was.
The woman from yesterday.
A messy jumble of thoughts crackled in Ellie's head like popcorn kernels on a hot stove.
Fuck. Great, this is great. Can I just avoid her? Or maybe apologise again? Shit. Or just leave.
She steadied herself, silently sitting down as to not notify the other woman of her presence.
The woman was sitting at a table near the back of the cafe. She wore a soft beige tank top and cargo pants, accessorised with elegant jewellery on her wrists and neck. Her hair wasn't in the militaristic braid from yesterday. It was held in a low ponytail with a spiral hair tie, some front strands left astray to outline her face. A thick book was carefully held between her ring and pointer finger. The morning light caught the edge of the woman's face. It framed her perfectly, almost like she'd walked out of a painting.
For one embarrassing second, Ellie forgot how to blink. She had to mentally slap herself to rip her eyes away.
Ellie fumbled with her pockets, forgetting which one held her phone.
Ellie: dina, hrlp. woman i ledt covered in coffe yesterfay is here. sos
Dina: really!! omg go get her ellie
Ellie: no, i cant. shes probavly still pissed. imma chug this coffee and lesve
Dina: dont you fucking dare
Dina: im not letting you back in the dorm if you dont come back with her or at least a story. get your pathetic ass over there and make a joke or smth. figure it out. i need the goss, and for you to not be single forever
Ellie: idk….. it was a bad start. i shoulf move on
Dina: please. just try, come on. for me and for the sake of you having a roof over your head tonight
Ellie sighed.
Ellie: i will kill you if thjs is a mistake
Dina: keep me posted!!!! remember all of the details please
The woman could probably hear Ellie's heart beating from across the cafe.
Ellie let out a shaky exhale. She tried to move her feet one in front of the other but it came out in more of a zigzag pattern.
She picked up the coffee the barista had set down on the table and forced her body towards the other woman's table. Her anxiety was the force of a black hole, dragging her towards the door.
Somehow, she was standing in front of the woman before she'd properly processed she was walking over.
The woman still didn't look up, her eyes scanning her book with intense focus.
"Hi—" Ellie said too loud and abrupt, lengthening the vowel more than normal.
The woman lazily twisted her head towards her.
"Oh… You"
Ellie hadn't made note of how feminine and smooth her voice was. It made her feel slightly more welcome.
"Be careful with that," the woman warned, glancing towards the coffee that was now shaking with Ellie's unstable grip.
Ellie let out a clumsy chuckle that shook with her nerves.
"I'm Ellie"
"Abby"
Abby.
A name for the mysterious crush Ellie had formed. A fitting one at that.
"I—" Ellie started, "Can I sit?"
Abby gave her a nod. She slid a bookmark into her book, closing it and stuffing it into her bag.
Ellie crawled into the opposite chair, placing down her coffee with an unintended force.
She didn't know what to do with her limbs. Her arms felt like inflatable noodle mascots in heavy winds.
On the table? No, table manners and fancy stuff. Don't wanna give her the ick already. In my lap?
She resorted to sipping her coffee, being sure to hold the glass with two hands this time. Knowing her luck, she'll still manage to spill it all the way over the table and onto Abby's face.
"Whatcha reading? You seemed really into it," she almost apologised for disturbing her, but Dina had been training her to stop saying sorry so much.
"Dostoevsky," she replied, "The Raw Youth. It's my favourite of his."
"Nice."
Ellie felt so pathetic. She couldn't focus on her responses, all she could see was her. Abby was unfairly pretty. It made Ellie's heart momentarily forget how to beat. With jealousy, of course. Ellie could feel her cheeks turning redder than a tomato.
She instinctively looked down at her converse, hiding her face.
Abby clicked her tongue, "What were you reading yesterday? Sorry about it getting destroyed…"
"It was a sci-fi comic thing, don't think it's really… your speed", Ellie tried to ignore her apology, it was her own fault the comic was ruined.
"Maybe not, but I can appreciate some sci-fi classics."
Ellie looked her in the eyes then. The deep carolina blue irises pulled her in. Ellie watched as Abby's pupils dilated, spinning the shades of blue and caramel.
Their conversation flowed seamlessly after that. The topic moved from favourite movies, to fitness routines, to study, to funny childhood stories and on and on.
Ellie's real smile came out and Abby's features softened to Ellie's pathetic dad jokes.
They talked for nearly half an hour before Ellie took the last sip of her iced americano. She'd been nursing the drink as an excuse to stay.
"I've got a lecture soon, but it's been nice getting to know you when you aren't spilling coffee all over me," Abby joked.
A pause followed, both of them wondering how to say goodbye.
Abby pulled out a small crumpled-up receipt from her pocket and began scribbling on it.
"If you ever wanna meet up and I can introduce you to some of my favourite sci-fi classics, then just let me know," Abby slid the receipt over to Ellie, now covered with ten hastily written digits.
She gave Ellie a soft smile.
"See you, Ellie"
Even after Abby had left her cheeks were burning. She punched the numbers into her phone and labelled the contact. She still kept the receipt. At the time she told herself it was for security, in case she somehow lost the number. She ended up putting it in her journal surrounded by pathetic confessions of affection and doodles of Abby.
Ellie pulled up Dina's contact.
Ellie: you won't believe who got her number
Dina: good on you!!!! i knew she'd fold for your nerdy ass
Ellie left the cafe still giddy, her original crabby mood completely gone. She kept checking the contact, repeatedly drafting how to text Abby without being too weird.
Abby didn't end up listening to a word of her lecture.
Not out of boredom.
But because she couldn't take her mind off the soft flutter building in her core when she thought of the girl who spilled coffee on her.
𝑎/𝑛: everyone has to start somewhere, right… this is most definitely not perfect so any feedback is much appreciated
Abby Anderson with her coveted physique, her flawless facial composition and light complexion. Her light freckles that cover her skin like star constellations, no wonder she was envied.
Isaac’s golden girl, but I feel that she was like gold. Dense, pure and precious. Adored by the people who wished to be like her, wished to be the center of her attention for even a mere second. The impeccable soldier. One that was impenetrable when it came to combat. One nobody could compare to.
Abby Anderson was like the sun. It was natural to drift towards the sun. Inevitable. Everyone liked the warmth it provided. People had the urge to look at the sun only to, unfortunately, be forced to look away cause it shines oh so brightly.
But that couldn’t stop the phantasmagoria of her father’s death. No adoration could save her from that. No matter how many wrongs you right or how much progress you make it keeps coming back. The daunting dreams that triggered that familiar ache in her chest, the ache that starts small but cunningly overtakes you whole.
The ache that you know, no matter what you do or where you go stays. Like a scar.
She aches and aches with no where to put it. No dirt to fill up the hole that dug itself. The hole she didn’t want. Hollow. Endless.
At first she couldn’t see it, it was masked by this sly little thing called revenge. But what was revenge but a mere illusion. An eye for an eye they say. They say it’ll make you feel better but it merely makes the knife that’s already in you twist deeper. It haunts you.
Like her father’s death. Joel’s face simply won’t leave her. The auburn woman’s screams. The pleading. Wasn’t she like the woman not so long ago?
So she puts on her own mask. Continues on solemnly. She kills the scars and does as she’s told. As the good golden girl she’s supposed to be. When did that title turn into an obligation? An obligation she didn’t want. One she despised. One she used to love and pride herself on.
It seemed the stadium had insidiously changed overnight. And suddenly it was hard to be supple.
All the faces. All the people killed in cold blood.
She tries to deceive herself, Joel deserved it. I feel great. I feel happy. I feel a rock lifted from my chest.
But while Joel did deserve it. The hole simply dug itself deeper.
Who could she turn to with all these feelings? No no, she would be seen as weak. The only person she would’ve told in the past was Owen, but things are different now, Owen has Mel. Mel is pregnant. She wouldn’t tell him. No matter how enticing it may be.
Poor little Abby must carry it all alone. There’s no one to take the weight off of her shoulders anymore. So as the nights grow colder and lonelier she’ll find herself staring at the wall. Back away from Manny. Thinking, keeping her eyes open in order to stray away from the images in her mind. Tracing circles on the wall in an attempt to keep herself calm.
Don’t think about it. Don’t think. Joel deserved it. He did. Did he? He did. Yes, he did. He absolutely did. He didn’t. Didn’t. Absolutely didn’t.
Doing anything and everything until she realizes that perhaps the trip to Jackson wasn’t as necessary as she had deemed it at the time.
Perhaps things would’ve been better if she hadn’t found Joel. At least she would still have a goal. At least she could’ve masked the grief so that it didn’t swallow her whole. Maybe she cloud’ve even moved on.
Perhaps,
But there’s no changing the past. And the present seemed as grim as the feelings swallowing her whole.
Idk what this is I just wanted to write something but you can call it my take on Abby between Jackson and when Ellie comes to Seattle. How guilt ridden and lost she must have been and the contrast from her normal life where she fell into rhythm and could maybe even start to move on, and further pain and grief she must’ve got from Jackson. Adding on to her trauma. And I hate Owen. So yeah 🩵
A mysterious girl with car trouble shows up at the garage. Who is Abby to turn her away?
This work contains a lot of lesbian sex and some car talk. Sorry.
Full Series - Collaborator - Next Fic on AO3
In hindsight, she should have put the pieces together sooner.
It’s late. Abby’s only there for paperwork, wrapping up the things she didn’t have a chance to do while the shop was open. She’s been working overtime a lot, lately. Joel hadn’t asked it of her, far from it. When he promoted her to a manager some months ago, she had damn near promised him she wouldn’t be working overtime. Not for him, not for this dinky little garage, not for anyone. There’s little Abby values more than her routine at the end of her work day. Shedding her uniform onto the floor of her kitchen as she pulls a cold beer from the aging fridge, falling onto the couch in her underwear, lighting up a menthol and turning on whatever channel she fell asleep watching the night before. It’s nearly sacred to her, by now.
Still, here she is. Here she has been, every night for the past two weeks, writing up damage reports to fax to insurance companies in the morning. It’s almost ten, now. A full three hours past closing time, two hours past Abby’s tour of duty, and here she remains. And it’s nobody’s fault but her own.
There’s a brisk knock on the office door. Raising an eyebrow, she looks up to the door that’s already opening before she can respond.
“Hello? Lights on, anybody—”
The girl that appears in the doorway is cute. Really cute. Short, choppy auburn hair, pieces falling just right to frame her face. Little scars across her cheeks and eyebrow, green eyes that shine even from across the room. A ratty Nirvana t-shirt, jeans with rips in the knees, converse that look like they’ve been to hell and back. Her expression, at first confused, slowly morphs into something else. She smirks, eyes softening at the sight of Abby sitting behind her desk. When she raises her hand to push her hair back, Abby gets a glimpse of the fern tattoo sprawling over her forearm.
“…uh, anybody home?”
Abby sits back in her desk chair, raising an eyebrow. It’s rare to get a customer this late, but not unheard of. Usually it means an upcharge. Or, depending on the customer, it means Abby can give out whatever pretty girl discount she wants. “What can I do for you, miss?”
She’s smiling more, now. Leaning up against the doorframe with one leg bent. The pose is just natural enough, but in tandem with the look on her face, Abby can’t take it as anything but seductive. “Sorry to bother you so late. Driving home from college and my car started making this weird noise, saw the lights on and thought I’d stop in to see if someone might be willing to take a look.”
Abby stands, and when she rises to her full height, she swears she can see the girl’s eyes dilate. Her jumpsuit is undone down to her waist, the sleeves tied around her waist. The ribbed tank top she’s got under it used to be white, before it was worn for mechanic work. Now it’s more of a beige, stained with sweat and motor oil, the fabric thinning after years of use. Abby knows her tits are probably at least partially visible through the ratty thing, but she can’t bring herself to care. When she’s dealing with customers the jumpsuit is buttoned, and after a certain point in the night, there’s nobody around but her. Whoever this mystery girl is, she seems to appreciate the view. She can feel herself straightening subconsciously, preening at the attention. Who’s she to complain about this girl stroking her ego? Not like anyone’s bothered to since Abby split with her ex.
“Weird noise, huh? What kind of weird noise?”
“Mm…kind of like, a popping?”
“When?”
The girl shifts her weight to her other leg, eyes drifting to the side. “When I turn.”
Abby’s face twists a little. “Could be the CV joints. How far you got to get home?”
“Oh, not too far.” She smiles, shrugging. “Just got nervous. You know, don’t want the car exploding or anything.”
“Course not. More likely, you’d fuck the joints up worse. I’d be happy to take a look for you, Miss…?”
Her attempt to get a name from the girl doesn’t pan out. She just grins, biting her lip, and gives Abby a quick body check as she turns to exit the office. Abby can’t bring herself to press the issue, not when her ass looks that tight in those jeans.
It’s been a while since Abby’s gotten her hands on a Brat, but here one has fallen into her lap. It’s well maintained, red and black, 1985 if she’s not mistaken. Easily the best year for the model.
“Well, ain’t this a pretty thing?” Abby runs her hand along the doorframe as she approaches the engine, almost feeling guilty for getting her filthy hands on it. Not that guilty, though. “Used to have a Baja myself.”
The girl shrugs, crossing her arms. “Not a big car person. My dad got it for me, he does most of the work taking care of it.”
“I can tell someone cares for this thing. She got a name?”
She grins, taking a few steps closer to lean on the tailgate. “Cassiopeia. I call her Cassie.”
Abby nods, stepping a bit closer to the wall to pull the creeper towards the car with the toe of her boot. “I’ll get a look at those joints. Could be they just need a little lube.”
“Don’t we all?”
Abby snorts a little, positioning herself on the ground to scoot onto the creeper. It gets a little harder every week, her knee injury making trouble as always. Before she slides herself under the chassis, she looks at the girl through the side of her eyes. “Sounds like you sure need it.”
As she disappears under the car, the girl doesn’t respond. There’s nothing notable about the CV joints, not at a cursory glance anyway. Nothing that’ll stop the girl from getting home. At worst, she’ll need to have them greased within the next few weeks to be safe. What she does notice is the girl’s converse wandering closer, her toe dragging along the concrete in what looks like a pattern of some kind.
“Well, looks alright to me—maybe get them checked in a week or so, but you should be alright to get home.” When Abby slides out, the girl is standing right over her, half leaning up against the side of the car. She’s not sure exactly when she got that close, but the growing smile on her face tells Abby it was no accident.
“Thanks for taking a look. Of course I’ll pay you, you know.”
“No need, miss. Just a couple minutes, happy to help out.”
She pushes away from the car, stalking around Abby with her hands in her pockets. “Still—your time is worth something, ain’t it? Does the owner know you’re doing free work for pretty girls?”
Abby huffs a little. She might take it as a challenge, even a threat, if the girl wasn’t still smiling down at her with half-lidded eyes. “Don’t you worry yourself about that. I’m supposed to be off the clock, anyway.” Technically, she was supposed to be off the clock two hours ago.
“That so?”
Before she can process what’s happening, the girl goes to step across Abby’s torso, one foot on either side of her chest. She bends down at the waist, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m not in the habit of taking charity, you know. Gonna pay you back one way or another.”
Abby’s gaze darts across the situation, running up her legs, settling on the buckle of her belt. There’s cameras in the garage, of course—but Joel never checks them without a reason. Last time, it was because Abby knocked out a customer who was giving them a hard time. Shit, she could probably get in and delete the footage before the old man even wakes up. Maybe even download it for herself.
“What did you have in mind, darlin’?”
“Think that’s up to you.” The girl tilts her head, making no attempt to hide the way she's leering. She seems to like what she sees, lingering on Abby's arms, her chest, her shoulders—everything Abby's spent hours working on in the gym. They've been acquainted for less than ten minutes, and already this girl knows just how to stroke her ego. "You into girls? Look like a dyke to me. Gonna break my heart a little if you say you're not."
Abby smirks, reaching out to wrap her hands around the girl's calves. "Why don't you have a seat and find out?"
She smiles and sinks down to straddle Abby’s hips, her knees on either side of the creeper. Abby wraps a hand around the back of her neck as she leans down, pressing their lips together. She aligns her body with Abby’s like it’s second nature, like she’s been waiting to do this since they met just minutes ago. Abby’s been waiting for it too, if she’s honest with herself. The girl squirms against her as she inhales and presses closer, body shifting, and Abby can’t help but reach down and grab her ass. That only seems to rev her up more, stoking the wet heat between them.
Whoever this girl is, Abby quickly gets the impression that she gets around. She tilts her head to bring them closer, grinds her hips down on Abby’s abs, and moans like the star of a camcorder porno. It’s kinda hot, the way she’s laving Abby with attention, like her body is the first hot meal this girl has seen in weeks. Her hands are all over, feeling Abby up like she only has a few minutes to memorize every detail of the body beneath her.
She slips her hand under the girl’s shirt, feeling across the plane of her skin with the gentlest touch she can give. Gentle has never been her strong suit, but she tries her best for the girls that end up in her lap. This one seems so eager, hips shifting like she’s already ready to strip down and rub their cunts together right here on the shop floor. Shit, Abby’s almost there too.
Abby turns her face away, raising a hand to gently hold the girl at a distance. “Ah—can’t do much on this thing. And ‘m not much of a pillow princess.” She wraps her right arm around the girl’s waist and carefully rolls them both over off the creeper, flipping their positions and giving them a more stable surface to work with. The girl’s smiling up at her now, almost smug, spreading her legs to accommodate Abby between them. She raises her hand up to pull out the tie keeping half of her hair pulled back, tossing it aside and letting her short auburn hair fan out around her shoulders. “Didn’t take you for one. Been waiting for this.” She reaches down to grab the hem of Abby’s tank top, tugging it upwards with a raised eyebrow.
Abby rises, still on her knees between the girl’s legs, and pulls the top over her head. She thinks about throwing it before she pauses, folding it and leaning back down on one hand.
“Lift your head.”
The girl looks somewhat amused at that, but complies. When Abby tucks the folded fabric under her head and pushes her back to the ground, she scoffs. “What a gentleman.”
“Shut up unless you want to spend tonight fucking your hand.”
The girl bites her lip, grinding up into Abby’s hips. “Yes ma’am.”
“Ma’am? How old do you think I am?”
“I dunno, thirty?”
“Thirty-two. Not exactly old enough to be a ma’am.”
“Whatever, grandma.”
She reaches up to Abby’s neck and pulls her in for another kiss. Strands of hair fall from her braid onto her face, freed as the girl fights to pull her closer. She busies herself with the girl’s jeans, undoing the fastenings and working the denim down her legs. Once they’re kicked off to the side Abby sits up again, looking down at the gray boy shorts the girl is wearing. There’s a dark spot just above the gusset, one that had to have been growing since she first laid eyes on Abby. It almost hurts to force herself to look away, but she can’t miss the sight of what she’s about to do.
Abby raises her right hand to the girl’s face, pressing her middle and ring finger to her pale bottom lip. “Better get to work if you want it.”
She smiles, eyes drifting down to the hand at her lips. “Starting to think I kinda like it when you’re a bitch.” Her lips part and she reaches up to Abby’s wrist, grabbing it and guiding the fingers into her craving mouth.
“Lucky you,” Abby hums as she reaches down with her left hand, rubbing at the front of the girls’ panties with her thumb. She moans around Abby’s fingers, still working them into her mouth and the back of her throat as she grinds her hips up. “Cause you seem like a real fuckin’ brat to me. That about right?”
The girl nods, looking up at Abby through half-lidded eyes. Those pink, wet lips are working up and down Abby’s calloused fingers, saliva pooling around her knuckles. For a moment, she wishes she’d brought her phone from the office just to get this on video.
“That’s right, pretty girl. You’re real lucky I’ve just been doing paperwork., huh?”
She doesn’t respond. Maybe she likes the taunting—maybe she’s too focused on her task. It sure looks like she loves it. Or maybe she loves the way Abby’s rubbing on her clit, thumb circling around the hard nub under the polyester. Her hips are twisting, chasing her pleasure as she sucks on the fingers in her mouth.
Eventually, Abby pulls her fingers out, inching back and tugging the girl’s underwear down. Her thighs are perfectly smooth, toned, her build athletic. Even better is the dark, thick bush between her legs, untrimmed for at least a month. She smiles at the sight; this girl just keeps getting better. Pretty, tomboyish, bratty, and desperate for Abby. It’s like she walked straight out of Abby’s dreams into the garage, like she studied the stack of skin mags Abby has in her nightstand and walked in ready to seduce her.
Abby pulls the panties lower and lower until she can tug them all the way off, tucking them into the back pocket of her overalls. She won’t be getting those back.
Easing herself down, she coaxes the girl’s legs apart and drags her lubed fingers over the folds of her cunt. Abby drags them from her clit downwards, fingers parting to trace each side of her entrance. Her tender skin is a perfect coral pink, soft and plump beneath her touch. It’s fleshy, reminiscent of the meat of Abby’s own lip as she bites it in anticipation. The girl is tense beneath her, whining quietly on each exhale, thighs twitching—but she’s patient. Still, or as still as she can be. She’s soaking wet, cunt drooling onto the oily concrete beneath her, and she seems content to let Abby take in the sight as long as she wants.
But if Abby wanted to just look, she’d be at home with one of her magazines.
When she pushes her fingers into the girl’s core, she arches her back off the ground, moaning like she can’t resist the urge to. Abby’s taking it slow, only barely hearing the involuntary sound she makes herself. She can’t help it—the sight, the risk, her voice, even the smell of sex filling the air.
She curls her fingers into the girl, curls up, into the wall she reaches for every time she fucks herself like this. For a moment, she almost forgets about the girl herself, the world narrowing to herself and the snatch she’s trying to please. Abby can damn near feel her pulse—the way her body responds to the touch, warm and so wet, already soaking Abby up to the knuckle with spit and cream. It spreads itself across her fingers as she pulls them out and forces them back in, fingers curling up against the girl’s body to give all the length she can.
The girl’s hooked her hand around one of her thighs, pulling her leg off to the side. If Abby was using her strap-on, she’d take care of that for her. She’d have her knees pushed up to her chest, pure necessity as Abby takes up the space between her thighs. Maybe she’ll have to get this chick’s number—show her an even better time than Abby can give her on the floor of a mechanic shop.
Abby leans in, sticking out her tongue to flick at the girl’s clit before she seals her lips around it. Her hand moves faster as she focuses her attention on the firm nub, tongue circling and curling around it until Abby can feel how much she likes it. She tenses around Abby’s fingers, hips shifting as she cries out again.
“Fuck, Abby!”
Her voice is breathy and high, almost whining as she reaches down to rest a hand on Abby’s head. It only spurs her on, all but ignoring her own arousal as she focuses on the task in her hands.
Abby feels the hand in her hair tighten as the girl tightens around her fingers, refusing to unlatch herself from the girl’s clit until she’s gasping and pushing Abby’s head away. She makes a few noises, gasping for air, holding Abby at a short distance. Eventually, she looks down, flushed and grinning.
“Holy shit. Fuckin’ knew you’d rock my world.”
-
Once they’re cleaned up and the girl has her number, she gets back in her car with a sly grin and a vague promise to be in touch.
As Abby watches the gorgeous Brat drive away from her, almost seduced enough to hope the girl calls her, she reaches up to push her hair back. A good amount of it has been pulled loose from her braid, the girl desperate for Abby, moaning like a whore the whole time. She smirks at the memory—then stops cold.
…didn’t she moan Abby’s name?
Did Abby ever say her name?
The gears in her head try to turn, try to remember, but nothing before the sex comes to her. She doesn’t think she gave the girl her name, but she must have at some point, right?
Narrowing her eyes at the road, she shakes her head and turns back into the shop to close up and delete footage. She must have.
-
If they don’t get a new coffee machine by the time daylight savings ends, Abby is going to chuck this one out the window. Then Tommy can pay for a Keurig and a new window.
He’ll cave—he has to. He’s just as frustrated with the old thing as she is. As she watches him from her desk, swearing under his breath at the machine, her confidence grows.
Eventually, he kicks the table the coffee machine rests on and shambles back to his desk. Once he sits, he looks up at Abby and sighs at her amusement.
“Sorry, Abby. Didn’t get much sleep last night, I’ll try not to bite your head off.”
Abby sits back in her chair, setting down the service manual she’d been holding. “Everything alright at home? Baby ok?”
Tommy nods, taking a sip of the diluted coffee. “Yeah—yeah, he’s alright, Maria too. Joel’s daughter just finished up her degree, came home last night. I wanted to be there to surprise her, and she got in a little later than expected. Had to go home before she got in.”
“Damn. Well, you know I keep a strategic reserve if you get too cranky to talk to customers.” She kicks the bottom drawer of her desk, shooting him a wink before picking her manual back up. He might play at being the disapproving manager, but they both know he’ll take her up on the offer. If not today, soon. The strategic reserve never lasts more than a month.
There’s a knock at the door, then it squeaks as it swings open.
“There she is!”
Abby looks up from her work.
There she is.
The girl, again, with a cocky smile, pressing up against the doorframe. Her hair looks more red in the morning light, freckles on display across her cheeks and shoulders. She’s wearing too-tight skinny jeans and what looks like it used to be a t-shirt, before someone went at it with kitchen scissors.
“Tommy!” She grins and sweeps into the room like she owns it, letting Tommy pull her into a hug as she approaches. Abby has to force herself to close her mouth, staring wide eyed at the girl who was moaning on her fingers less than twelve hours ago. The girl, here, again, hugging Abby’s manager like she knows him well.
He pats her back with his arms wrapped around her. When he pulls back he’s beaming at her. “How you doing, kiddo? Get home alright last night?”
“Yeah—sorry, had a little car trouble. Nothing I couldn’t handle, just set me back a little.”
“Cassie? Want me to check on her?”
“Nah, I’m alright. Just happy to be back in my bedroom.”
After a moment he looks up at Abby, hand still resting on the girl’s shoulder. “Oh, Abby—have you met my niece?”
Her brain starts running faster than she can keep up with it, and she feels a pallor crash over her. Tommy’s niece, which makes this girl...
“Ellie!”
Joel strolls in, holding up a white paper bag that’s stained with grease from whatever’s inside. “Got breakfast on my way in. You want the bacon or the sausage?”
“Whatever, you pick.”
Joel unrolls the bag and pulls out a sandwich wrapped in paper, handing it to Ellie before pulling out another to toss in Tommy’s direction. He catches it midair, and then Joel turns to Abby, hand emerging from the bag, and—
The breakfast sandwich smells good at least, when it smacks her in the chest and falls to the desk.
Joel laughs a little, taking the last sandwich from the bag and unwrapping it. “You alright, Abs?”
She’s not sure what to say.
The girl, Ellie, looks a little too smug as she grins at Abby from across the room.
"...yeah. Late night." Abby crosses her arms and shifts her weight, eyeing Ellie from across the room as nonchalantly as she can manage. She's not even sure what to think, what to feel right now. Anger? Betrayal, from this girl who was all but a stranger to her?
No, she's not a stranger, Abby thinks as she looks down at the ground and starts running her tongue over her teeth. This is Joel's daughter, top of her engineering class, her art lining the walls of Joel's home—he even has a photo of the two of them in his wallet. Going off to college, joining the girl's volleyball team, competitions won, Abby's (vaguely) heard it all secondhand over beers with Joel and Tommy. Most of it she forgot about immediately after the conversations ended, but now bits and pieces of the mysterious Ellie are coming back to her.
Fuck. He's even got a photo of her on his fireplace mantle, doesn't he?
Abby really needs to start paying attention to things.
"You can take off early if you need—I know you've been pulling some late nights. I owe you a drink for all that, I know."
"You owe me a six-pack, old man." Abby sits back down in her office chair, pulling the service manual back into her lap. Whatever this emotion is, Abby would sure like to brute force it out of herself by getting lost under the hood of the old Ford sitting in their service bay.
Eventually she hears Joel and Tommy's conversation go out the door with them, into the garage. She feels the desk creak beneath her as Ellie sits on the surface, leaning back with her legs spread to encroach on as much of Abby's desk as she possibly can. She's still giving Abby that fucking smirk, like she can read Abby's mind, like this has turned out better than devised.
"Hi."
Abby looks up at her wordlessly, glowering with an upward stare. After a moment she sits back into her chair, crossing her arms. She sees Ellie's eyes dart around to check out Abby's arms, and she can't help but find it amusing. Not amusing enough for Abby to handwave her little stunt, but it's cute at least. She gets this leering reaction sometimes from girls. Only sometimes she uses it to her advantage.
Ellie sticks her hand out. There's a black bracelet tied around her wrist and silver rings on two fingers, her nails trimmed and maintained. "I'm Ellie."
Abby huffs a little. "Yeah, I got that."
Ellie is shamelessly checking her out by now, chewing on her lower lip before she accepts that Abby isn't going to shake her hand. Glancing around the desk, she plucks a pen from Abby's Navy mug and flips it in her hand. She looks down at the service manual and starts writing in one of the margins. She only writes a phone number, some lines drawn over multiple times as the shitty ballpoint refuses to work right. Next to it she draws a little heart, scribbling to fill it in. Abby should probably object, she knows—this manual belongs to the shop, after all. It's going to go back into the stock room with the shelves of massive service manuals Joel refuses to digitize. Who knows how long it would even take someone to find this little note, written on a random page of a random book, shelved among hundreds?
With that, Ellie winks and stands from the desk, meandering towards the door as she pushes her hair back.
Looking down at the number, Abby presses her lips together and sits in silence for a moment. She can still hear Joel and Tommy yapping away in the service bay, some vague semblance of a casual argument she can't quite make out. Ellie's voice chimes into the conversation, but Abby can't tell who she's agreeing with.
Glancing up periodically the door, she pulls her phone out of her jumpsuit pocket and adds the number to her phone. She pauses before entering the contact name, looking back in Ellie's direction before she enters it.
Cassie.
Slamming the manual shut, she stands and stalks towards the stock room, catching a glimpse of Ellie through the blinds. Hopefully nobody needs the OEM manual for a 1986-1996 Ford Bronco anytime soon.
God, she really should have put the pieces together sooner.
HIIIII SORRY I HAVENT POSTED ANYTHING IN TEN TRILLION YEARS!!! this is a collaboration with my dear friend renegade_reaper on AO3, who's written another installment in this universe! that fic is on AO3 here, and we both plan to add more to this series! (they're also on tumblr at @renywrites and they're amazing and sweet!!!)
Feel free to say hi or drop your thoughts in my askbox, check out my AO3 or my about me if you're interested! Dividers are from @pixopix!
after months of passable, safe, happily domestic bliss with owen, abby is bored. she's bored with him, with his chaste kisses and careful hand holding. with once a week trysts where the most fun comes from him tugging her ponytail by accident.
she needs something more, something that burns bright and hard and gives itself fully over to her, and ellie is not someone to love in drips and drabs. no, abby’s heard of ellie’s escapades. of the girls she's romanced, what those skillful fingers can do, what that foul mouth has potential for when in the sanctity of a bedroom, or the lurid desperation of a darkened alleyway.
abby isn't stupid. she knows what she's chasing. how she makes those freckled cheeks blush when she rocks up to ellie's apartment post workout, sports bra sticking to her chest, abs flexing with every breath as she cooks up some excuse to lounge on ellie's couch, outstaying any reasonable welcome, watching like a hawk as ellie tries not to stare a hole at how abby's thighs pop through a pair of bike shorts one size too small.
all she needs to do is let ellie crack. let the poor girl break and beg and give abby what she wants. and what she wants is ellie williams.
romaincrisis
blakekathryn
theartofmadeline
origamiaround
germansingergirl
