fiction obsessed dog @lobotomymutt - Tumblr Blog

Apr 19

𝖑𝖊𝖙 𝖎𝖙 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 - 𝖆.𝖆.

𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖜𝖔𝖑𝖋 𝖆𝖇𝖇𝖞 𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝖝 𝖜𝖑𝖋 𝖋𝖊𝖒 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: 18+ only MDNI, angst, hurt/comfort, no use of y/n, established relationship, horror elements, descriptions of bones breaking/snapping, blood, kissing, scenting, abby’s boobies.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 7.2k

𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊: holy shit it’s done! this really was a labor of love because I wanted to give up on it many, many times over the past week. but I really need to thank @justanotherabbystan for brainstorming and helping me work through the parts of this fic that made me want to rip my hair out. so I’m dedicating this one to you lana <3

p.s. I also want to further expand on this au with blurbs and headcanons and some other one-shots to show abby’s shifts, her regaining her control and the progression of their relationship. but I hope you all enjoy this one xx.

An empty bed.

That’s the first thing you’re aware of when you begin to stir, your palm reaching out across the mattress in search of the steady, familiar warmth you’ve come to expect. But you find nothing, just an empty space right where Abby should be.

The sheets are still warm and for a moment you just lay there, waiting for any indication that she’s still here. The soft thud of her boots, the tug of a zipper, a muffled sniffle but you’re only met with resounding silence. Your eyes flutter open, the dimly lit room slowly coming back into focus.

“Abby?” you murmur around a yawn.

No answer.

You sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you glance around your shared space. It looks the same as you left it a few hours ago, nothing amiss besides her presence. Moonlight spills through the slits in your curtains, the clock on your bedside table showing just after midnight. Your gaze drifts over to her side of the bed, and a feeling of dread instantly washes over you.

The sheets are ruined, a series of long slashes tearing deeply into the mattress beneath. You trace a finger over them and your heart thuds erratically because you swear they look like claw marks. But the stains of crimson that litter the shredded fabric has bile suddenly rising up your throat.

Abby’s hurt. She came back from patrol like this and didn’t say anything.

Damn her and her stubborn pride.

You spring from the bed in an instant, suddenly wide awake as you reach to pull on whatever clothes are closest. You nearly stumble as you pull a pair of worn sweats over your bare legs and frantically shove your feet inside your boots, gripping onto the back of a chair for support.

Your fingers grasp onto the rough collar of Abby’s jacket slung over the back of the chair, her pack resting untouched on the floor beside it. That feeling of dread coils tighter in your stomach when you notice her gun is amongst the belongings, tucked safely inside its holster. That’s how you know something is very wrong.

Abby Anderson is a force to be reckoned with, one of the strongest soldiers in the WLF’s ranks but she’s not invincible. Nor was she stupid enough to go off on her own, completely unarmed and injured. So what would have pushed her to that point, where she would leave without even saying goodbye?

Something tightens in your chest when you think back on when she slipped into bed with you just a few hours earlier, the movement stirring you enough from your sleepy haze to reach out for her. You felt her stiffen beneath your gentle touch, heard the harsh intake of breath before she carefully guided your hand up to rest on her shoulder.

“S’everything okay?” you ask, blinking up at her.

“Don’t worry about it, baby,” she’d said, pressing a kiss to your brow before pulling you closer. “Just a little sore, I’ll be fine.”

Deep down, you knew it was more than that.

But you’d been too tired to argue, and now you really wish you had.

You reach for her jacket, slipping your arms through the too long sleeves and snatching up the firearm to tuck it inside the innermost pocket. The scent of peppermint and pine wraps around you, but it does little to soothe you as you rush out of the room.

The stadium is quieter this time of night, only a few stray soldiers milling about. On any other occasion you’d find it sort of peaceful, but now the hum of the overhead lights only seems to set your nerves alight. Every instinct inside you is telling you to run, to move faster—she needs you.

But you keep your pace steady, your breathing even, a mask of complete calm. The last thing you need is to draw any unnecessary attention to yourself. So you let your feet guide you further down the winding halls, already knowing the way. There’s an unused maintenance tunnel hidden beneath the stadium, leading well past the high walls and watchful eyes of the WLF.

Abby had shown it to you months ago, the first time the two of you had snuck out to the aquarium. She’d found it by complete accident, late one night when sleep had continued to evade her. She’d said it was yours, a discreet way out in case the two of you ever needed it…and it was clear tonight that you did.

You give one quick glance behind you to ensure you’re still alone before you throw open the door and duck into the empty stairwell. Your heart thumps unevenly as you race down the steps, no longer caring how loudly your footsteps echo up the stairwell. The sound follows behind you, rivaling each heavy thud of your heart. But you don’t stop until you finally reach the landing, throwing open the basement door and stumbling into the dimly lit hallway.

The smell hits you immediately, the air thick with the scent of rust, mildew and something metallic that clings to the back of your throat. The lights above you flicker with each step you take, offering brief flashes of the path ahead before you’re bathed in darkness again. It’s so much eerier than you remember, all of your senses heightening as you trudge forward.

The exposed pipes above you hiss and groan every so often, which only adds to your feeling of unease. You’ve never been down here on your own before, so used to the comfort and safety that Abby’s presence always provided. But now you find yourself jumping at every shadow, unable to discern what’s real from the horrors your mind continues to conjure up.

Something suddenly scurries across your feet, causing your breath to punch out in a sharp gasp as you slam back against the opposite wall. But the sight of the small, harmless mouse has a startled laugh bubbling past your lips.

Pull yourself together, you scold yourself. You’re no use to her in this state.

So you take a deep breath and keep moving, forcing down the fear that threatens to consume you whole, until it’s just a dull ache beneath your ribs.

You’re nearing the end of the hall now, where the corridor splits off in two different directions. Your eyes linger on the faded arrows, the words above labeled Maintenance Access and the other Storage.

That’s when you notice it, a smear of crimson across the wall.

The panic slams back into you like a freight train, because it’s fresh, still wet enough to catch in the muted light. Abby had just been through here, but you don’t find any comfort in that sudden revelation. Your feet carry you faster down the hall now, your boots sloshing wetly against the cracked cement.

But as you round the corner you discover it’s not just one small smudge, she’s left a bloody trail.

The marks drag unevenly along the wall, the color looking unnaturally bright against the pale brick. You follow them further down the corridor until the trail abruptly ends, not far from the entrance to the maintenance tunnel. But your eyes linger there for a moment, on the scattered, bloody palm prints that have smeared in some places where her hands must have slipped, like she was struggling to even hold herself upright.

“Goddamnit, Abigail…” you hush under your breath, turning your gaze back to the door.

The sight of it makes your heart stop.

The rusted door—hinges and all have been crushed, dented inward like someone had taken a battering ram to it. The handle is missing, torn clean off as the edges of the door curl in on itself like something pried it open. Nausea stirs in the pit of your stomach as you take a step closer to further inspect the damage and discover a near perfect indent of a shoulder in the metal.

And your thoughts can’t help but drift through the early signs of infection you were taught to recognize: extreme aggression, unnatural strength, the complete loss of control…

But you immediately shove the thought aside before it can take root. There’s no way it could be true.

Then why would she leave you like that? A small voice in the back of your mind sneers.

Releasing a harsh breath, you step forward, reaching for the curled edge and pulling. The metal groans in protest, scraping against the cement floor but it opens a little wider for you to be able to squeeze inside. But as you slip through the narrow gap, the metal catches on the sleeve of your jacket and pulls some of the threads loose. You curse softly, but keep moving until the darkness of the tunnel swallows you whole.

The air feels different here, hollow and cold. The corridor seems smaller, emptier than you remember and even as your eyes slowly start to adjust, that feeling doesn't relent. Instead it presses down on you, like the walls themselves are closing in now that there’s no one to shield you from the dark. The panic threatens to bring you to your knees but you swallow it down, reaching out a hand, allowing your fingers to drift along the cold cement and letting it guide you.

Despite the lingering darkness, you can still picture her here. Walking just a step ahead of you, pulling you down the narrow tunnel, her fingers tangled with yours like she never planned on letting you go. The not so subtle way she’d glance over her shoulder at you, her eyes shining with warmth and affection that was only ever meant for you. And how you’d continue to pull her to a stop, reeling her back in to steal soft, breathless kisses that echo with your shared laughter.

But Abby isn’t here and you can feel the weight of her absence with each step that you take.

Your fingertips brush over the curved edge of the wall and you follow it, rounding that final corner. At the far end of the tunnel, moonlight spills in through the hatch above, bathing everything it touches in a harsh, pale glow. That feeling of dread instantly slithers back into your veins, because that hatch is not supposed to be open.

Why would she leave it open?

Your hazy memories from the last few hours begin to surface now, slow and unrelenting.

The way she held you a little tighter than usual, the hushed ‘I love you’ she pressed into your hair right before you drifted off and the way she lingered after, like she couldn’t bring herself to pull away.

Each one only solidifies the horrifying truth you’d been too afraid to face until now.

She'd been bit.

The realization settles deep within your chest, suffocating and heavy because she wasn’t just being affectionate, she was saying goodbye.

Hot, angry tears blur your vision and you’re unable to stop the moisture from slipping down your cheeks as you take those last few steps and grab onto the rusted rungs of the ladder and start to climb.

The night air is crisp, the gentle breeze stinging your damp cheeks as the familiar smell of fresh rain and pine fills your nose. The forest stretches out before you like a dark and endless abyss, only the smallest slivers of moonlight lighting your way. But it’s way too quiet, you realize the deeper you descend into the trees. There’s no chittering wildlife, or the soft hum of cicadas to drown out your racing thoughts.

It’s like the forest itself is holding its breath.

Dead leaves crunch beneath your boots as you walk, your eyes scanning your surroundings for any sign that she’d been through this way. They land on a tree just a few paces ahead, and you instantly pick up your pace until you’re able to see it more clearly. You swallow thickly, reaching out to trace your fingers over the four long scratch marks that are embedded into the bark.

“Abby?” you call softly.

Silence.

So you continue on, noting how the ferns up ahead were wilted and crushed—she’d been here too.

There’s a sudden, loud snap that stops you dead in your tracks and you move on impulse, quickly ducking behind a fallen log. You hold your breath, straining your ears to listen for that haunting whistle that would inevitably sign your death warrant.

But the forest falls silent again.

There’s no flicker of flames from a torch, or arrows slicing through the night air. So you wait a heartbeat longer, still not fully trusting that you’re safe. When nothing happens, you carefully rise from your hiding place and continue deeper into the trees.

Another sharp crack echoes up ahead and you immediately turn toward it.

“Abby?” you call again into the darkness, and the answering yelp has you taking off in a full sprint, no longer caring about the possibility of Scars or infected because she needs you.

Branches whip past your face and bite into your cheeks but you don’t care, you force your legs to carry you faster. There’s a break in the line of trees up ahead, the opening of a small clearing. She’s close now, you can hear each choked breath that leaves her, every painful whimper and it fractures something deep inside your chest.

You burst through the line of trees at the edge of the clearing and stop dead in your tracks.

Abby is crouched near the base of a tree, her back to you as she keeps one hand braced against the trunk while the other clutches onto her side. Her hair is loose, spilling wildly over her broad shoulders and down the middle of her back. Slivers of moonlight shine through the canopy above, casting the rest of her in shadow.

“Abby?” you whisper, taking a tentative step forward.

Her head instantly snaps up and when she turns to face you, your stomach twists. Her eyes look wrong, but not in the way you’re expecting. They aren’t bloodshot, there’s no yellowing around the irises, in fact they’re almost too bright. The moonlight reflecting off them in a way that feels more animal than human.

Abby mutters your name low in her throat, almost as if it pains her to speak. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

You take another step. “Neither should you.”

She ignores the accusation in your tone. “Turn around and go back to the stadium, now.” The sudden authority in her voice leaves no room for argument.

Your anger flairs. “I’m not some soldier that you can order around, Abby. I’m not leaving you like this.”

“Why are you always so stubborn?” she growls.

“Why are you?” you fire back, taking another step into the clearing. “You disappear in the middle of the night and expect me not to—”

Abby doubles over with a sharp, choked sound and the anger evaporates from your body as you rush forward.

“Don’t come any closer.” She snarls, but it’s not anger lacing her words. It’s fear. “I fucking mean it.”

But you don’t listen, taking another step toward her hunched form and it’s only now that you realize she’s shaking. Violently.

“Abby, look at me.” you press, nearly close enough to reach out and touch her. “Whatever this is, we’ll find a way to deal with it, together. Just tell me—”

“No,” she says through gritted teeth, something dark and primal bleeding into her voice.

Something that doesn’t sound human.

“Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

“Because I don’t know what this is!” she shouts, hunching further into herself as her body fights off another violent shudder.

“So it’s not…cordyceps?” you ask slowly.

But there’s no relief that comes with the small jerk of her head.

Abby suddenly struggles to her feet, using the tree as leverage, gripping onto it so hard that the bark cracks beneath the pressure of her palms. She moves several paces back before you can stop her, her movements jerky and uncoordinated like her body is becoming foreign to her. She’s only able to make it a few more feet when her legs give out and she falls to her knees. You rush toward her panting form without thinking about the consequences.

“Stop, please,” she pleads, something shifting behind her eyes. “Something’s happening and I…” Her fingers dig harshly into the earth beneath her. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

That stops you in your tracks.

You’ve seen Abby take down grown men with her bare hands, kill her way through hoards of infected with startling ease but you’ve never seen her look so overcome with fear as you do right now.

“You won’t.”

She just shakes her head.

“I can’t fight it anymore,” she says between clenched teeth. “You need to go, now.”

But you just shake your head, “I told you I’m not leaving you.”

Abby screams in agony as she collapses forward, her spine arching painfully as her knees buckle beneath her. But you can’t do anything but stand there and watch in utter horror as her limbs twist unnaturally, the bones snapping and reshaping themselves beneath her skin. Sharp claws sprout from the calloused hands that cradled you mere hours ago, her flesh stretching to accommodate her newly elongated limbs.

Dark fur begins to push through the skin along her arms and down the back of her neck as her body expands, shoulders widening. Her t-shirt strains against her chest, the worn fabric unable to withstand the sudden growth and it splits apart at the seams. Her breath comes out in harsh, painful grunts, each one sounding more animalistic than the last and you have to force yourself to look away.

But the sound of your name has your head snapping back up as she forces herself to stand on shaking legs, looking at you with a pained expression.

“Please,” she pleads, a sudden raw edge to her voice. “Baby, please just go.”

But you’re frozen in place.

“Go!” she shouts, her voice distorting into something vicious and unrecognizable.

The last of her control fractures as she seizes, her whole body contorting in a violent convulsion that threatens to tear you apart. She looks at you one last time, her eyes glassy and pleading before they squeeze shut and her body forcibly gives in to the change with a final sickening crack of her spine.

Then the forest stills, and it’s over.

Abby doesn’t move for a long moment, keeping her head bowed as she sucks in several deep, ragged breaths. Every muscle is still twitching, the aftershocks of the transformation rippling under her skin like a live wire. Every part of you longs to run to her, to pull her close and hold her through the tremors but your feet are still rooted in place.

A soft breeze suddenly whips through the trees, rustling the leaves overhead and stirring up your hair. Abby immediately goes rigid, muscles flexing as she lifts her head to meet your wide-eyed gaze, and your stomach sinks.

Her eyes are glowing, golden and bright, leaving no trace of the deep blue you’ve come to know. Her silhouette is all sharp angles and corded muscle, a glimmer of sharp teeth and claws in the moonlight. She doesn’t look like the woman you fell for anymore—she’s a force of nature, something so powerful that the forest itself seems to cower in her presence.

And yet, there’s something so familiar about the way she holds herself, the hunger in her eyes. It’s disarming and terrifying all at once.

A low, warning growl rumbles through her chest when you move, instinctively reaching out for her despite every instinct in your body warning you to turn and run.

“Abs?”

She doesn’t respond, merely tilts her head as she takes a slow, measured step toward you.

“Abby…” you try again, softer this time. “It’s me, you know me.”

She begins to pace in a slow, predatory circle that makes it feel like the world is closing in around you. She moves with a terrifying grace, keeping her head low and eyes locked on you as if she’s measuring the distance, calculating exactly how long it would take to get to you. A lion closing in on a cornered gazelle.

Her gaze suddenly drops to your throat, sharp and deliberate as it fixes on where your pulse thrums beneath your skin, and the lack of recognition there has your throat tightening.

“Please,” you plead, your voice trembling. “I know you’re still in there.”

Her claws flex at her sides, the tendons in her neck straining as if she’s being pulled in two different directions. Then her body lowers into a crouch, every muscle coiling tight, with a mixture of intent and restraint—like she’s actively fighting to resist even as she prepares to strike.

And for a moment, she hesitates, her expression shifting, softening with a familiarity that makes your chest ache.

But it doesn’t last.

Something inside her finally snaps and she doesn’t hesitate this time, she lunges.

You stumble away from her with a startled gasp, your heel catching on an upturned root and throwing you off balance. But with nothing to grab onto to stabilize yourself, you fall backwards. You hit the ground hard, the back of your head slamming against something smooth but solid. A searing pain shoots up the back of your skull, and your vision swims.

You don’t have any time to recover before she’s on you.

Her body is a warm, solid weight that presses against your ribs, her claws grappling in the dirt on either side of your head. Another low growl erupts from deep within her chest, but she’s close enough now that you can feel the rumble of it. Her muscular thighs bracket your hips, pressing you into the cold, damp earth but your bodies align in such a way that ignites heat between your thighs.

This position is too familiar, too intimate. So when Abby’s mouth dips lower, her nose nudging against your jaw, you don’t hesitate to bare your throat to her. Her sharp fangs graze over your thundering pulse, and you tense—waiting to feel them tear through your soft flesh.

But it never comes.

The pressure of her teeth are suddenly gone but she doesn’t retreat, she hovers, her mouth mere inches from your throat. And when you turn to look at her, you realize her eyes are screwed shut, teeth clenched to the point of pain as she fights a battle waging inside her.

You don’t think when you reach out to carefully cradle her cheek. “Abby?”

Those golden eyes flash open to meet yours and she grabs your wrist, pinning it in the dirt above your head in a movement far too fast for you to be able to dodge. Then she’s leaning in again, her nose nudging against the fabric bunched at your shoulder—her jacket.

She stays like that for a heartbeat, just breathing you in.

Then the hand holding your wrist captive loosens and she reaches lower to grip onto the side of the jacket, like she’s trying to ground herself there. Your heart thuds erratically when she releases a soft, human sounding sigh before burying her nose deep into the collar. Something akin to hope flares inside your chest when she mumbles your name against your skin, the sound a distorted mixture between a whine and a growl.

“Yeah,” you breathe, releasing a small, choked sound when she affectionately nuzzles into the crook of your neck. “I’m right here, Abs.”

But the tender moment shatters as quickly as it came.

Abby tears herself away from you, retreating so quickly that you can’t tell which direction she went. You force yourself upright, a little too fast, as a sudden wave of dizziness crashes over you. The back of your head throbs as everything blurs and tilts around you, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut and take a few steadying breaths while you wait for the feeling to pass.

When the world slowly drifts back into focus, you’re already searching for her.

“Abby?” you call, rising unsteadily to your feet.

The edges of the clearing are bathed in shadow, but you don’t need to see her to feel the weight of her presence, lingering somewhere just beyond the tree line. You take a small step out of the center of the clearing, approaching the edge with slow, cautious strides. You strain your eyes as they scan through the darkness, only settling once you see a flash of gold between the trees.

Another warning growl cuts through the silence when you take a step into the shadows.

“Stay back,” Abby warns, her voice broken and raw—like she’s still getting used to speaking again.

But you ignore the warning, stepping closer. “You keep saying that.”

She releases a gruff noise that sounds oddly like a snort. “And yet, you still aren’t listening.”

You can see her silhouette now, tense and guarded as she watches you closely.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you murmur, taking another step closer.

“You should be.”

There’s no real bite behind her words, only fear and regret bleeding through.

But this time you don’t allow yourself to falter because you see her now—the Abby you fell in love with. The gentle, broken woman you held close when the nightmares kept her awake at night, who didn’t think she deserved any of the love you offered. She was still there, hidden beneath the sharp claws and thick layers of fur.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say simply.

“It doesn’t matter?!” She fumes, that dark edge creeping back into her voice. “It doesn't matter that I almost—”

“It doesn’t matter to me what you are!” you shout.

Your words land with the force of a physical blow, knocking the breath from her lungs.

“I love you, Abby,” you continue, quieter now as you step closer. “Nothing is going to change that.”

You can see the inner struggle she’s having, the way she starts to retreat with each step you take but she doesn’t stop until her shoulders press into the rough trunk of a tree. Her chest heaves, each breath sharp and uneven as she buries her claws so deep into the bark that it splinters—like she’s trying to anchor herself there.

When she says your name again, the warning in her voice starts to waver as you continue to close the distance between you. It’s a staggering, strange reversal of roles as the prey begins to advance on the predator, forcing Abby to face the very thing she’s been trying to protect you from: herself.

“Why didn’t you leave?” she whispers, the most human she’s sounded all night.

Your throat tightens. “Would you have left me?”

Abby doesn’t answer, but the look in her eyes says it all.

“I told you before, I’m not going anywhere.”

“What if I lose it again?”

“You’re still here,” you say, softer. “You stopped.”

“Barely,” she mutters through clenched teeth.

You reach up to gently cradle her jaw and the tension there loosens ever so slightly. A slow, shaky exhale follows, like she’s been holding it this entire time.

“You really should stay back,” she asserts weakly, leaning into your touch.

“I know,” you reply.

You both stay like that for a long moment, trying to familiarize yourselves with each other again. Her breathing has finally slowed, claws loosening their death grip on the trunk to hang at her sides. But they tremble, seemingly torn between wanting to reach out and touch you, but not fully trusting herself to do so yet.

So you make the decision for her, carefully guiding one of her clawed hands to rest against your hip, and her breathing stutters. You can feel the heat rolling off her in waves as you step further into her space and the wild look that flits across her features makes your blood pump faster, but this time it’s not from fear.

Abby inhales deeply, that hunger settling back into her golden eyes.

“I can hear your heart,” she mutters, voice still rough around the edges. “This is a bad idea.”

“Probably,” you hum.

But you don’t pull away, you press closer.

The first brush of your lips is hesitant, cautious in a way you haven’t had to be before. Abby is tense beneath your touch, but she doesn’t push you away—she holds you there. Your mouth hovers over hers, your breaths mingling together and you fight the urge to deepen the kiss, not wanting to push her too far.

“Still with me?” you ask softly.

And she answers by closing the distance with her mouth.

Her lips are warm and wet when they meet yours, her breath releasing in uneven huffs as she pulls you flush against her chest. The kiss is clumsy, but full of so much raw need that it makes your whole body tingle. Her sharp teeth catch on your lower lip, lightly pricking your skin and the metallic taste that fills your mouth pulls a needy whine from your throat. Abby’s responding groan quickly morphs into a low growl that vibrates through her chest, her grip tightening around your waist.

In one swift motion she spins you around, pinning you back against the trunk. The splintered bark bites through the jacket and scrapes against your skin but you welcome the sting. Her mouth is back on yours in an instant, hot and frantic like she’s pouring every ounce of her frustration and longing into the kiss. So you reel her in closer, your fingers sliding up into her hair out of pure instinct and you tug.

Her body suddenly goes rigid beneath your hands and she wrenches her mouth away with a deep growl.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, attempting to step out of her embrace but her grip tightens on your waist.

“Don’t. Move.” Abby hisses, and this time you listen.

You become immobile in her arms, barely daring to breathe as she tries to regain some of her control back. She leans in with another low growl, her nose skimming along the collar of the jacket before she buries her face there, each labored breath warming your skin. And with each deep inhale you can feel her start to settle, her grip on your waist loosens, and she slowly lifts her head to meet your gaze.

“Guess I got a little carried away, huh?” you say.

You see the corner of her mouth twitch.

But beneath that raw and unbridled desire, you can see the fear still lingering in her golden eyes.

“Abby?” you breathe, and you feel her grip tighten on your waist.

“Don’t…” The word comes out as a partial growl. “You can’t say my name like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want me, not…not like this.”

“What if I do?” you counter.

Abby releases a shuddered breath. “No,” she says through her teeth, every one of her muscles tensing. “It’s too dangerous. I could have killed you, I still could.”

You nod, features softening. “I know that, and I’m not saying tonight. But I do want you, Abby, in whatever way I’m still allowed to have you.”

She meets your gaze, uncertainty and longing lingering in her eyes. You slowly lift your hands toward her face, still cautious—giving her the opportunity to pull away.

“I trust you,” you murmur.

“I don’t.”

That admission fractures something deep within your chest.

But she doesn’t pull away, so you gently cup her cheeks between your palms. Her eyes flutter shut, her body leaning further into the comfort of your touch. You allow your fingers to carefully explore her sharpened features, sweeping across that familiar bump on the bridge of her nose, where she'd broken it many years ago. The freckles that fan out across her cheeks, and the faded scar above her left eye.

All the things that still make her yours.

A deep purr suddenly rumbles through her chest when your hands slip lower, threading your fingers through the soft fur at the nape of her neck. The sound has you gasping aloud, a rush of heat settling in the pit of your stomach. Her golden eyes flash back open, hungry and wild as she inhales deeply.

“You’re not making this very easy, you know.” Abby grunts, that familiar twinge of sarcasm lacing her tone.

You don’t offer her a reply, but simply lean in until your foreheads brush. You slide a hand back down her shoulders to her chest, where you can feel the frantic flutter of her heart beneath your palm.

“It’s not going to be easy,” you murmur. “But I’m not running away now.”

Time passes strangely after that, seconds that melt into minutes which blur into hours. Sleep doesn't come easy, or at all. You feel yourself drifting in and out, waking whenever her body goes rigid beside you, a low growl slipping past her lips like she’s unable to stop it.

And in those moments where she becomes restless, muscles tensing like the animal within is threatening to unleash itself—you somehow always bring her back to herself. A gentle hand on her shoulder, your fingers threading through her loose hair as she buries her face in the crook of your neck.

That’s where you stay the rest of the night, bodies tangled together at the base of an old maple tree.

When the first rays of dawn begin to break over the horizon is when you feel her body start to change. But it’s not a violent, brutal transition like before—it’s more like a release.

The tension leaves her shoulders, her tight grip on the jacket loosens as she fully comes back to herself.

And the forest itself breathes a sigh of relief.

“Hi,” you mumble, voice still thick with sleep.

She hums softly in response, her breath tickling the exposed skin of your neck. The sound is so completely human and so entirely Abby that it makes your heart flutter.

“You okay?” she asks, lifting her head from your shoulder. “Your heart is racing.”

You can already feel the heat creeping up the back of your neck. “You can hear that?”

“Is that weird?” she asks, almost sheepishly.

“No, it’s just…new.”

She nods thoughtfully and leans her head back against the trunk of the tree, her eyes slipping shut—a pillar of stoicism.

“Are you really alright though?”

You can hear the question hidden beneath, and it makes your throat tight.

Did I hurt you?

The back of your head throbs in response, your lower lip still a little tender as you run your tongue over it.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you su—”

“Abigail,” you interrupt, resting a hand on her clothed thigh. “I said I’m fine.”

Her brows furrow as she glances down at you, her eyes searching your face. But as you meet her gaze, you notice the flecks of gold that now linger there, which contrast brightly against the deep cerulean of her irises. Her frown deepens when her eyes flick down to your mouth and she reaches for you, her thumb ghosting over the small slit in your lip.

“That was me.”

It’s a statement, not a question.

So you nod, unable to deny that fact.

Abby leans closer then, gently cupping the back of your neck to get a better look but you can’t hide the way you flinch away from her touch. She instantly pulls her hand back, noting the sticky flakes of blood that cling to her fingertips.

You see a plethora of emotions flit across her features then: horror, anger, disgust, regret.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, and you can feel how she starts to pull away from you.

Not just physically but emotionally too. It’s the way her voice wavers, her eyes becoming distant and unfocused as her hands start to shake. But you won’t let her, not this time—not when you just got her back.

You move before she’s able to get too far, pushing her shoulders back against the trunk and swinging a leg over her thighs to settle onto her lap.

“No, you don’t get to do that.” you snap, your tone harsher than before. “You don’t get to pull away from me again. Not after everything we just went through.”

Abby looks taken aback by your sudden outburst, but the uncertainty and regret still linger in her wide eyes.

“Did I…” she trails off, unable to put those thoughts into words.

“No, you didn’t.”

Your answer seems to release some of the renewed tension in her shoulders.

“Can I?” she asks, motioning toward the back of your head. “I just…I need to make sure.”

You nod, scooting closer on her lap until there’s barely any space left between you. Her fingers are gentle as they slowly slide up the back of your neck, stopping their exploration when she feels a small bump near the base of your skull, the gash still sticky and swollen and you wince beneath her touch.

“I am so sorry,” she repeats and her hand lingers there, her thumb lightly ghosting over it as if she could take the pain away by sheer will alone. “The last thing I ever wanted was for you to get hurt.”

You lean in then, closing the distance and leaning your forehead against hers. Abby’s eyes squeeze shut, her muscles tensing but it’s not because she is afraid of losing herself again. But rather she’s trying to come to terms with how the monster she became last night is the same person who is allowed to hold you like this.

Her hands slide back down your neck to your shoulders, her eyes fluttering back open to meet yours. But Abby’s gaze suddenly drifts lower, landing on the patch that reads A. Anderson that’s sewn into the breast pocket of the jacket you’re wearing.

“Were you wearing this the whole night?” she asks.

You nod, a questioning look on your face.

“So that’s why,” she mumbles, so softly you almost miss it.

“What?” You ask, shifting slightly.

Abby’s fingers curl around the sleeve of the jacket and she lifts your wrist to her nose, inhaling deeply.

“There was so much…” She seems to be struggling to find the right word. “Noise, it made it almost impossible for me to recognize you.”

You can hear the guilt in her voice, and the way she won’t fully meet your eyes.

“And every time I thought I was going to…” she trails off, swallowing hard. “I smelled it on you.”

“Smelled what?”

Her eyes flick up to meet yours.

“Me.”

The weight of her words sink in, anchoring you both to the reality of what really happened last night. That the jacket that’s wrapped around you wasn’t just comfort, or instinct—it was a lifeline. A tether. Something that kept pulling her back each time she slipped too far beneath the current.

“It brought you back to me,” you murmur.

Something shifts then.

The heaviness of the night seems to lift all at once, taking all of the fear and uncertainty with it. The space between you suddenly feels smaller now, more intimate and Abby pulls you closer without warning, arms tightening as she buries her face in the crook of your neck.

“Uh, Abby?” you squeak, caught off guard.

“Hmm?” She hums, her warm breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“It’s uh—” you rasp, struggling to get a breath in as your chest tightens. “A little hard to breathe.”

She tenses for a moment, then immediately loosens her hold.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Abby pulls back far enough to look at you and rests her hands on your hips, her touch suddenly a lot more hesitant than before. “Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head, releasing a small breathy laugh. “No, just give a girl a little warning next time.”

“Right,” she mumbles, her thumbs absentmindedly drawing small circles against your hips.

You shift in her lap, opening your mouth to speak again when your eyes flick lower and—

Oh.

A small smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth.

“You know…” you drawl, slow and casual. “I’m definitely not complaining, but I, uh, think you’re missing a little something.”

Her brows furrow in confusion. “What do you—”

Abby follows your gaze and curses under her breath.

You can’t stop the giggle that bursts from your chest when her cheeks instantly flush and she quickly crosses an arm over herself in an attempt to cover her bare breasts.

“Oh come on, it’s not like I haven’t seen them before,” you tease, with a slight wiggle of your brows.

“God, you’re such a perv,” she mutters fondly, giving your side a gentle squeeze.

“What? Can you really blame me?”

Abby huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking her head as she tries to feign annoyance but the way her eyes have softened gives her away. She pulls you an inch closer, the heat of her body a grounding reminder that she’s really here with you. That she chose to stay.

“I probably wouldn’t be much better,” she says thoughtfully, glancing back over her shoulder for a moment. “But you know, I really did like that shirt.”

When she turns back to you, the slight pout on her lips has another giggle slipping past your own. A gentle breeze slips through the trees just then, carrying the sound of your laughter and blowing some of her hair across her face. But her pout only deepens and you beam at her, reaching up to tuck those loose strands back behind her ear.

“Hey, do you know how hard it is to find decent clothes around here? Between your thievery,” she pauses, playfully tugging at the hem of her jacket. “And now this, I’m not going to have any left.”

You roll your eyes, still smiling as you slip off the jacket. “Alright, alright, come here you goober.”

You carefully slide the jacket over her shoulders, your fingers brushing along skin that’s still too warm. Her muscles tense for a moment before they begin to ease under your gentle guidance, and you feel her truly surrender to your touch.

It’s a quiet sort of trust—the way she lets you handle her, to see her vulnerability, and how she allows you to bridge the distance she fought so hard to maintain. Abby isn't just letting you put the jacket on, she’s letting you back in. Your hands linger a little longer than necessary as you adjust the collar, smoothing the fabric over her arms before they settle at the zipper.

You glance up to find her already watching you, her eyes holding such intensity and reverence that it feels like she’s stripping you bare. But you hold her gaze as you slowly drag the zipper up, the soft, familiar sound filling the space between you. Her breath hitches when your knuckles accidentally graze the underside of her breast and a different kind of hunger darkens her eyes.

“Better?” you ask softly.

Abby doesn’t answer right away.

Instead she leans in, cradling your jaw and kisses you.

Only this time when she presses her mouth to yours, it’s all familiar, no sharp teeth or urgency. Just the desire to feel, to be close.

“Still with me?” she asks, leaning her forehead against yours.

“Always.”

𝖆𝖇𝖇𝖞 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @cherrybomber3000 @somebitchprobably @cloudy-fay @jerryandersonsdaughterinlaw @lobotomymutt

(please let me know if you want to be added/removed)

𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖐 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌, 𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖆 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖊𝖓𝖏𝖔𝖞𝖊𝖉 <𝟑

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

fiction obsessed dog