Gracie!

≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼

[moonylvs]

⋆˚꩜｡ MOONYLVS Gracie. Mexican. College student. Writer. Multifandom blog. Lesbian. Radfem. Neurodivergent. Introvert. Book nerd. Movie Enthusiast. Remus kin.

Just a girl writing about her favorite people.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ — About me! — mlist — Request — radfemblog! — Ao3

© 2025 Moonylvs

Please do not copy any of my writing or feed it to the ai-monster!

[saphicangel]

abby's girl

synopsis: a glimpse into what it feels like to love abby and be loved by her in return.

content warnings: tooth rotting fluff, modern au, abby x reader, established relationship, domestic!abby, abby and reader are living together, soft intimacy, lovesick lesbians.

Being with Abby feels like a gentle, constant pull toward her. Even when you’re in separate rooms, you’re aware of her — the soft thud of cabinets closing in the kitchen, the sound of her pacing while she decides what to cook The apartment holds her presence the way it holds heat.

She likes domesticity more than she admits. Saturday mornings, she’s up at the crack of dawn, because she insists on making you breakfast in bed whenever she can. Hair still messy from sleep, standing at the stove in an oversized T-shirt that used to be yours. The sunlight cuts across her shoulders while she flips pancakes too carefully, like she’s trying to impress you even though you’re half-asleep and extremely biased over literally anything when it comes to her.

You notice her absence in the mornings immediately, the cold of her side of the bed jarring in comparison to the natural warmth she usually generates, engulfing you like a cocoon. You’d always trudge out to the kitchen and admire her form from the doorway, blanket draped messily around your shoulders and eyes half open.

When she notices you, she softens immediately. It’s subtle — her shoulders drop, her mouth curves, her whole posture shifts toward you. You’d always trudge like the effect you have on her. You like how she’s only like this with you, and vice versa.

You slide your arms around her waist from behind, cheek resting between her shoulder blades. She leans back without hesitation, trusting your weight completely, letting you crowd her while she cooks. The smell of coffee, the warmth of her body, the rhythm of something ordinary shared, it’s enough to make your chest feel full.

Abby is attentive in so many ways that don’t feel deliberate. She remembers how you like your toast. She adjusts the thermostat before you even say you’re cold. When you sit on her lap, she automatically spreads her legs slightly so you can fit closer, her hand settling on your thigh like it belongs there.

When she takes you out, it never feels performative. She’s thoughtful, almost shy about it, as if she’s offering you something fragile. Her fingers stay laced with yours as you walk, occasionally squeezing for no reason. She glances at you often.

There’s a quiet pride in the way she looks at you, too. Like she still can’t believe this is her life — that you live together, that she gets to come home to you, that she gets to reach out and touch you whenever she wants.

Back at the apartment, the distance between you always dissolves. Abby gravitates toward you instinctively, pulling you down onto the couch, arranging you so you’re tucked against her side. Her hand drifts under the hem of your shirt without thinking, palm warm against your skin, thumb moving slowly as she watches whatever you put on.

The air feels different in those moments, heavy with familiarity. The kind of closeness that comes from knowing each other completely. She presses her mouth to your hairline, then your temple, then lower, unhurried, as if there’s no place else in the world she’d rather be.

Abby’s definitely gentle, but there’s always that undercurrent — the quiet tension that lingers in the way she holds you with the slight tightening of her grip when you shift, and the warmth of her breath against your neck. It builds naturally, like everything else with her, affectionate first and then something deeper, more private.

At night, she curls around you again, half asleep before her head even hits the pillow. Her hand settles at your waist, fingers flexing once, like she’s making sure you’re still there. The apartment is quiet, the city distant, and Abby breathes steadily against your shoulder.

—

Abby plans the date without making a big deal out of it. You only notice because she’s already dressed when you come out of the bedroom, hair still slightly damp, one of her nicer jackets on instead of the usual hoodie. She’s leaning against the counter with two coffees, watching the door like she’s been waiting there in anticipation for you to walk out.

“There she is,” she coos.

You take the cup she offers, fingers brushing hers. “It’s too early for you to look this beautiful.” You compliment, eyes trailing over her form.

“Thought I’d take my girlfriend out,” she replies, a flush on her cheeks. She says it so simply, like it’s nothing, but her eyes stay on your face a second too long.

Living together means the small things pile up. Your shoes mixed together by the door, her keys always ending up in your bag, the way she checks the stove twice before you leave because she knows you forget. Abby moves through the apartment like you’re built into it.

On the walk, she keeps your hands linked, thumb moving absentmindedly over your knuckles. She does it when she’s content, when she’s thinking, when she’s trying not to stare too openly. You nudge her shoulder.

“You’re being very sweet today.”

“Just today?” she asks mock offended, scrunching her nose down at you.

“Extra sweet.” You correct, smiling.

She hums. “I like you. Makes me act weird.”

“You live with me. That ship has sailed.”

“Still like you,” she says simply, squeezing your hand once.

The café is warm and quiet, and she sits close enough that your knees touch under the table. She listens when you talk in a way that feels almost intense, chin resting on her hand, eyes steady. Every time you pause, she smiles, small and fond, looking at you in a way that suggests you’re the most precious thing on earth.

“I feel like you haven’t blinked, or looked away from me once this entire conversation,” you observe playfully.

“Yeah,” she admits, eyes still locked on you. “I do that.”

“It’s creepy.”

Her mouth tilts. “Well sue me, you’re nice to look at.”

Your foot nudges hers under the table. “Real smooth, Anderson.”

“I try,” she tries to say it coolly, but there’s a flush climbing her neck.

—

Back home, the familiar comfort settles immediately. Jackets tossed aside and the couch pulling you both in like gravity. Abby stretches her arm along the back and you automatically lean into her. She adjusts without thinking, pulling you closer, hand slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to rest against your side as usual.

“So you jus’ planned this date outta nowhere?,” you ask curiously.

“Mhm.”

“How come?”

She shrugs, but her fingers trace slow circles against your skin. “Wanted to spend time with you. Not like we don’t already, but… I don’t know. I like taking you out.”

“You take me everywhere.”

“And I still miss you when you’re in another room.”

You tilt your head to regard her. “Someone sounds a little lovesick.”

“Hmm, probably,” she pretends to think. “You okay with that?”

You lean in, brushing your nose against her jaw. “I live with you. I’m fully enabling it.”

Her breath catches slightly, and her grip tightens at your waist. The movie plays, mostly ignored. She presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then another to your jaw, like she can’t help herself.

“Best part of the date?” you ask.

“You,” she says immediately.

“Abby,” you laugh softly. “you’re literally such a sap.”

She nudges your nose with hers. “You like it.”

You settle deeper against her, feeling her relax completely once you’re comfortable. Her chin rests on your head, her hand warm and steady at your side, and the apartment fills with that quiet, shared stillness you’ve built together.

After a moment, she murmurs, almost to herself, “I like coming home with you.”

“You are home,” you reply.

Her arm tightens around you, and she doesn’t let go.

[wiinterz]

gotta fuck cassie mckay or i will cause a problem for everyone.

[ilovewomenfr]

ride like you mean it

part 2, masterlist

cowgirl!abby x southern!fem!city-girl!reader

cross-posted on ao3

synopsis: after being cheated on over a year ago, and being hung up on it for way too long, your friends finally convince you to hit the town with them. you end up at a dive bar, meeting abby, and end up going home with her - 2 parter.

cw: just a plot for porn, mentions of past cheating, sensual content, teasing, making out, dirty talk, pet names, innuendos, grinding, dry humping, abby calls reader a slut, thinking about sex, mischaracterizes vi for the plot, everyone has a southern accent

word count: 4.1k

!!men dni!!

“Dina, I really don’t wanna come with y’all tonight.” you call from your bed as you see the girl walking towards your door, drawing a sad "I didn’t even say anythin’ yet!” from your best friend. For the past several months, your entire friend group has been insistent on you joining them on their nights out to the dive bar just out of the city, despite your many protests.

“Oh come on, you don’t even have to drink just come out ‘n have fun. You’ve been depriving yourself from a good time over what? Vi, it’s been like a year girl.”

“She has a point,” Dina’s girlfriend now joining her in your doorway. “You’re only sidin’ with her ‘cause you’re datin’.”

Ellie looks at you, offended. “Excuse you, I have my own opinions, they just usually align with hers. You need to out yourself back out there and quit bein’ so gloomy. You could meet your wife tonight!”

“Oh please, This ain’t some romance story Ellie, I’ll get there and immediately wanna go home. Besides, the bar y’all go to is where we saw it happen.”

Concern etches across Dina's face and she gently nudges Ellie to go back outside so she can have a one on one with you. The door closing with a soft click behind her as she enters the room fully, sitting next to you on your bedspread;

“Look, I know you saw Vi makin’ out with that one chick on the dance floor. And I know how much it destroyed you, but it’s been well over a year. Fuck Vi, she ain’t a part of your life no more. You can’t let her control it.” she gives you a genuine smile, squeezing your hand tightly, “You know I’m doin’ this cuz I hate seein’ you all mopey, right?”

“I know Dina. I really do appreciate it, truly.” you give your best friend a hug, “I’ll consider it. I mean you’re right, 'bout the whole Vi thing. Fuck her and that blue haired bitch.”

“‘Course I am. Plus they have a mechanical bull with a ‘best times’ board now.” That might be just what wins you over; “You serious?”

“Hell yes I am. Girl I know you did rodeos as a kid, you need to show all of us how to do it the right way.”

“Well help me find somethin’ to wear!” you exclaim, standing up from your bed.

_________________________________

The Uber drops the three of you off in a dusty parking lot of a worn down looking building, country music seeping from the doors. You step out of the sleek black civic—which looks insanely out of place as people slam the doors of rusty trucks and dingy cars from the ranchers pull into the already full lot. You take a deep breath, calming both your nerves and the threat of your heart beating out of your chest.

“C’mon, let’s get in there, Cat ‘n the rest of ‘em are at a table.” Dina smiles, walking hand in hand with Ellie, the two of then sickeningly sweet. Ellie calls your name as you stay put behind them, “You comin’ or standing out here all night?”

You look down at your much-too-clean cowboy boots, any rancher in the joint will know you’re from the city. Your miniskirt and belt suddenly don’t seem as cute as they were when you put them on. “I look like I don’t belong in there,” the protest falls flat on your friends’ ears. Dina rolls her eyes and walks over to you, “We’re basically regulars, an’ we all look a bit too polished for this place anyways.” she hooks her arm in yours, “Don’t be nervous, you’ll have fun tonight, I promise.”

Ellie holds the door open for you both, and you file into the dimly-lit bar. Your eyes scan the place trying to find everyone, which proves difficult given that it’s a Friday night and all the tables are filled with groups of people around your age.

“‘Scuse me darlin’.” You hear a soft, unfamiliar voice and a warm hand finds itself on your shoulder as a woman and man pass behind you. You can't help it when your eyes follow them, both in worn out hats, flannels, and boots. The woman’s long blonde hair pulled back in a braid, and her voice definitely doesn’t match her appearance. This woman is built. When she finds her table, she swiftly takes her hat off for a moment, veins in her hand popping as she holds the crown of it. Her bicep bulges as she places it back on her head. You find yourself biting your lip, and then you see her side profile, she’s absolutely gorgeous. Your heart flutters, and she looks at you. Flushing, you quickly avert your gaze.

“Hey, you okay?” Dina's voice tinged with worry, her hand resting on your arm. You turn around, cheeks a bit hot, “What? Yeah no I’m fine.” Dina’s face changes from concern to curiosity, she looks past your shoulder to the pair that just walked in. She looks back at you, a grin forming on her face, “Oh you horny bitch. The first girl you see in here gives you attention and you’re all hot.” she nudges you playfully. “Ugh don’t make it a thing. I can think someone’s attractive and not want to sleep with them. And she just walked past, there was no attention.” your objection only digging yourself a deeper hole.

"Oh don't you lie, she's the definition of your type," she shakes her head, “and she was totally eyeing your ass when you turned to me.” She drags you over to where Ellie is now seated with the rest of your group.

Many variations of ‘never thought i’d see you in a bar again’ are thrown around as you and Dina slide into the booth. Once settled in, you casually look over at the bar to see what you want to drink. You never end up looking at the menu, instead, you notice the same woman staring at you and this time it’s her that looks away, cheeks pink. Ellie kicks your shin, mocking you: “‘My life ain’t a romance novel’ my ass.”

_________________________________

A few drinks in, you’re feeling a light buzz as the conversations overlap at your table. Your eyes glance past the bar to the mechanical bull Dina was telling you about earlier, landing on a shabby chalkboard nailed into the wall—the 5 columns in ascending order from 17 seconds to well over a minute. You nudge your best friend, gesturing to the number at the top of the board:

Best Times:

1:27 - Abby

“There ain't no way someone’s stayed on that long.”

“I’ve never seen anyone beat that score. But I reckon she comes on a different night than us. We all came in recently and it was there already. But your eye candy’s come real close to it.”

“Oh shush” you swat at the brunette’s shoulder, slightly embarrassed. “Bet i could beat that seventeen on the bottom though.” Naturally, when someone finally suggests that the group head to the back and get in line for the bull, you’re practically the first to your feet. The talking continues as the group of you walk to the back of the bar, in order to get to the bull, you and the others pass that woman’s table. You overhear a quick and strained, “y’all shut up, don’t even think about it,” from the same voice as earlier and her table falls strangely quiet. You can't help but hope she was talking about you.

A mix of ranchers and a few city folks make up the decently sized line that wraps around the barrier of the ring. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the blonde woman and a couple friends standing up and joining, ending up a few people down the line from you. The excitement in the room builds as everyone attempts to stay on the machine. To absolutely no one’s surprise, most of your group wipes out in under ten seconds, making you all the more determined to stay on for over seventeen. You're the last of your group to go, cheers coming from your friends who have found themselves in a nearby booth.

With a wave of confidence you swing yourself onto the bull, not at all graceful but you don’t care that much. Your forearm flexes as you grab the rein, looping it around your hand. The bull starts rocking, your hips and thighs tensing to keep yourself upright. After a few moments, you get the hang of it, moving with the rhythm of the bull. Ten seconds in, your friends' cheers get louder and you get a bit cocky as you notice that woman’s eyes watching you intensely.

You decide to put on a bit of a show; your back arching much more than necessary, exaggerating the bounce of your hips on the saddle. At sixteen seconds you’re bucked off the machine and land on the padded surface, a soft huff escaping your lungs from the impact, as well as from frustration at your time. “It was hot ‘til ya toppled over. ‘S all in the thighs darlin'. Gotta ride it like you mean it.” You tilt your head upwards, seeing the blonde woman leaning casually against the barrier, her braid falls across her shoulder as she looks down at you, expression smug. Her accent is deeper, with much more of a drawl than that of your friends or your own.

“Just gonna lecture me or are ya gonna help me get up?” you prop yourself up on your elbows and tug your black tube top up a bit, earning you a chuckle. “Can’t get up by yourself?” her hand reaches down and you take it. One arm easily pulling you off the padding. You hold eye contact with her, noticing how blue her eyes are. “You’re irritatin’.” you bite back playfully. A staff member shoos you out of the ring, cutting the conversation short. You pass the woman as you walk towards your friends, her voice stopping you;

“Y’think i’m irritatin’ cuz ya know I can do better than ya or cuz y’think I’m hot?”

“I think you’re irritatin’ cuz you’re irritatin’.”

_________________________________

“So she’s a total ass.” you sit down and lean onto the table your friends now occupy, sounding a bit exasperated but you'd be lying if you said you hated the banter. “That’s not what it looked like. At all.” Dina’s tone blunt yet teasing, Ellie nods her head and Cat adds “there was chemistry” before she begins standing up along with the rest of the group, although Dina stays seated with you.

“Where’re y’all goin’?” your brow furrows, “Back t’our table…” Ellie looks at you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, your eyes flicker over her shoulder and you get a glimpse of that blonde woman’s blue eyes watching you once again.

“Why don’t we jus’ stay here?” you suggest, your eyes trailing down the woman’s body, noticing her thick, muscular thighs. Heat spreads throughout your centre as you imagine those thighs around your head. You quickly wet your bottom lip as your eyes travel back to your friends, who are all looking at you with knowing gleams in their eyes; “What? it’s closer to the dance floor. And the bar. And someone’s probably taken it already.” Ellie’s eyes narrow as she sits back down, “Mhm you keep tellin’ yourself that.” You look back over and see the woman shrugging her flannel off before getting into the ring, handing the worn green shirt to her friend. Her muscles now fully shown off in her wife pleaser, your throat dries up.

With one strong arm she grabs the reins, swinging her leg over the bull with practiced ease, boots slipping into the stirrups. Her free hand holds the crown of her hat as the machine jolts to life. You bite the inside of your cheek, eyes focused on the movement of her hips and he ttensing of her arm muscles. She catches you staring with your mouth somewhat agape and smirks, taking her hat off to let it wave with her free arm. Stray hairs that never made it into the braid fall in front of her eyes and you desperately want to push them out of the way. When she does so herself, still looking at your table, you bite your lip at the stretch of her tricep.

The machine swings her so her back is towards you now, lats flexing as she holds onto the bull. It’s been about thirty seconds now and she begins showing off, overly exaggerating the roll of her hips. Your mind wanders but you feign annoyance to your friends once it goes on for longer than needed.

“Ugh, it’s like a male bird.” you scoff lightly, still watching the woman. “As if you haven’t been eye fuckin’ her. Whatever she’s doin’, it’s clearly workin’ on you,” Cat is smirking as she speaks, the remark causes you some degree of embarrassment. “I have not been eye fuckin’ her,”

“Really?” Dina begins, adding on to Cat's comment, “'Cause it looked like you were gonna cum on the spot." Your cheeks flush; “It’s just impressive. And she’s like ripped. Plus she’s been on the thing for too damn long.”

“You’re only mad 'cause she’s been on it longer than you,” Dina points out, and she’s not wrong, everyone knows you’ve got a competitive streak. “That too.” you shrug.

As your friends persist with the comments, your embarassment increases by a tenfold and you desperately hope for a change in topic;

“Y’all want shots? I’ll buy.” That does the trick, everyone agreeing and you head over to the bar.

_________________________________

As the night progresses, the music goes from country to club, the dance floor getting more and more packed. Dina and you decide it’s probably a good time to join the floor. You turn to Cat, who usually ends up being your designated dance partner, to see if she’s down. Dina tries getting her girlfriend to come with the three of you as you get up to dance, Ellie reluctantly caves in and the four of you head over to the dance floor.

The tune of Gasolina fills the room, the boom sending vibrations through the floor. You and Dina look at each other and smile, pulling the other two women onto the floor with you. Voices sing along, bodies bump into bodies, and eyes meet eyes. You grind on Cat as she cheers you on, holding your hips as laughter falls from both of your lips.

The same blue eyes that have been following you around all night meet yours, the woman leaning against the wall opposite to the dance floor. There’s heat behind this gaze, it’s unwavering. Your movements slowing under it. She licks her lips before the moment is interrupted by excited bodies slamming into each other as the song transitions.

You turn towards your friends as Low booms through the speakers, everyone now yelling the lyrics. When the feeling of eyes on you hits again. This time you don’t even check if the blonde is watching, you just start twerking to the beat of the song, both friends and other patrons around you cheering.

After a couple songs, you’re breathing hard and thirsty as hell. “I’m g’na go grab some water.” you let your friends know before slipping off to the corner of the bar by the wall, a cooler and glasses available for those who need—you fill a glass and lean against the wall, the cool liquid feeling pleasant as it passes your lips. A now familiar figure appears in the corner of your eye.

“Was’at your first time?” the woman asks as she steps in front of you, one hand resting on the wall next to your head. Her other is grabbing a glass and pressing the lever on the cooler with her index finger, a low thrum returning to your core as you watch the ease with which she performs the action. “What?” you ask, looking at her amused face, her hand drops from where it’s at on the wall, brushing your arm before returning to her side. “Ridin’ a bull?” she clarifies, the two of you moving out of the way of the cooler, now facing each other on the wall a few feet down, just on the outskirts of the dance floor.

“Yeah, but I did rodeo as a kid.”

“Mm, that don’t prepare you for bulls sweetheart. They’re a bit rough.”

You take a step towards her, placing your hand on her forearm, running it up to her bicep, thumb brushing across the muscle. Your heart pounds hard against your chest and you pray she can’t see it. Your nerves building as you decide to go all in.

“What makes you think I can’t handle a rough ride?” your voice getting sultry and you see her eyes darken, black pupils now overtaking the blue that was there moments prior. “Y’should really let us cowgirls handle that kinda riding or you’ll hurt yourself.” she feigns self control, but her voice is marginally more gruff than before. “I could be a cowgirl for all ya know.” you state matter-of-factly, running your middle finger back down her arm, tracing a vein to her hand.

“Oh please, I bet the only cowgirl y’ever been is reverse,” she quips, grabbing your wrist as her blue eyes appraise you, almost as though she’s sizing you up. It sends a rush through your body, knowing she’s thought of you like that. “Mhm ‘n I bet that’s exactly what you were thinking when I was on that damn bull,” your fingers brushing the inside of her forearm. Her smug expression staggering, it’s clear she’s trying her best to keep her composure. She takes a shaky breath, “Barely. Y’can’t even ride that thing properly.”

“Maybe…” you pull your hand away, crossing your arms. Her eyes now looking shamelessly at your tits, “I just need ridin’ lessons.” Your voice now challenging, which brings a smirk to the woman’s face. She bites her lip softly, shaking her head with a chuckle as she leans in close enough for you to smell her, pine and musk filling the air. Her voice is low when she speaks;

“Talkin’ like this to me ‘n i don’t even know y’damn name.”

You give it to her, “Do I get to know yours too, or do I just have to call ya cowgirl all night?” you ask as you wrap your arms around her neck, her own holding your hips. “Name’s Abby.”She tests your name on her tongue, “How high’re my chances of gettin’ ya in my bed tonight?” your cheeks feel hot for a moment, and your eyes flick down to her plump pretty lips, “They’d be higher if you danced with me, Abby.” She pauses for a beat, as if considering other options. “Y’did put on quite the show back there, pretty. It’d be a shame for me to miss out.”

_________________________________

With the bass pumping, yours and Abby’s bodies sway, bump, and grind. You find your thighs slotted together, brushing against each other’s cunts. Abby spins you around, holding your hips to meet your back to her front. You gasp as you feel her tits press against your back. Leaning forward, you start shaking your ass on her, arms reaching back and taking her hat, placing it on your head. Her hips push forwards into your movements as you twerk, your pussy fluttering.

Abby’s warm, callused hands trail up your sides, making you stand more upright again. You place your own on top of hers and guide them up to your tits. Hearing the quiet, strangled sound that leaves her mouth, you quickly turn around to face her, Abby’s hands are immediately back on your hips and yours resting on her shoulders. She leans down, “This a preview for later or sum’n?” she murmurs into your ear, hands now grabbing your ass.

“Oh you’ll have to work for it. I ain’t openin’ my legs for just anyone.” her eyebrows raise in surprise, “Y’seem pretty easy t’me.” Abby’s nose is brushing yours, her breath fanning your lips, eyes focussed on your glossy pout. “And what gives you that impression baby?”

“Y’ve been dancin’ like a slut all night, twerkin’ on me like y’need t’get fucked hard n’ deep.” You can feel her lips brushing yours as she talks, her words drawing a small whimper from your mouth. Both of your gazes flicking between the other’s eyes and lips, the tension strung tighter than it has been all night. Both of you waiting to see who breaks first. Your tongue darts out of your mouth, quick as ever, brushing your bottom lip and grazing Abby’s. She exhales through her nose before slamming her lips against yours.

There's a fire that ignites deep in your gut, a soft hum escaping you. You keep an arm thrown over her shoulder, the other hand snaking down to hold her neck. Your lips messily slotting together, tongues meeting tongues, teeth clashing. Abby’s left hand holds her hat on your head, the right grasping your waist. Your tongue is in her mouth, flattening against hers before swirling around it. As you pull away, you bite her lower lip. A higher pitched gasp leaving her as she leans down more, a soft whimper escaping her as you pull back. The hungry sound and heavy eyes are all you need to drag her off the dance floor.

_________________________________

Abby lets you pull her by the hand in the direction of the washrooms, the urgency in both of your paces obvious. You pass Ellie and Dina, who are in their own world until the sight of you with Abby pulls them out of it. Your mind is so focussed on getting Abby into that washroom, you barely even notice them.

As you finally the see old wood Restrooms sign above the hall you make a beeline. The two of you rushing down the corridor, frantic in your attempt to find an open stall. You pin Abby to the first door with the vacant lock, leg between hers as you turn the knob, shoving her inside. She immediately flips the both of you, her turn to push you against the door. Abby grabs her hat off your head, hanging it on the hook, “Y’have any clue how sexy y’are?” she breathes, a thick, jean clad thigh between your legs as she knees the door shut. You just roll your hips on the leg, head tilting back and gasping at the pressure hitting your clit:

“Fuck-"

Her mouth immediately finds its place on the column of your throat, sucking a mark against the skin. Abby drags her lips up to your own, planting a hot, teasing kiss before gliding her lips over to your ear, licking it. Goosebumps cover your entire body as she nips the lobe. Her hips roll on your thigh and she moans softly against your skin, your core aching at the sound. Your mouths meet again, Abby lifts you and places you on the sink, your legs spreading apart naturally. A grin comes from her, “What happened to ya not openin’ these pretty legs for just anyone?” Her thumbs rub circles into your thighs, you open your mouth to say something but she slips a leg between yours once more, effectively keeping you quiet. She runs two digits just under the hem of your miniskirt. “I knew it. Y’are a slut.” You push your knee against her pussy as a protest to her statement, her mouth hangs open, letting a moan out. She sinks lower onto your leg.

“Ya don’t look like you’d be a girl who moans all pretty, but here we are.”

“Shut up,” Abby’s voice is still on the higher side as you move your knee side to side. “Make me,” You challenge her as you lean in, the both of you breathing heavy.

The doorknob rattles, “Almost done in here?” a drunk, unfamiliar voice slurs out. The heavy air between you fizzles out and Abby begins to talk: “Yes, yes jus’ a m-“ You press your knee against the seam of her jeans, she bites her lip, stifling a whine, “Moment.” Abby finishes the sentence, shooting a glare at you.

Both of you compose yourselves, you straighten your skirt and fix your hair quickly. Abby’s smoothing over her wife pleaser and flannel. She places her hat back on you, “It’ll help with the hair.” You pull your tube of lip gloss from your front pocket, bending over the sink to reapply. Abby’s face goes back to being hungry, the ogling apparent. You smirk, arching your back more. “Now that’s wholly unnecessary darlin’,” her lip between her teeth, “Especially when we got someone waitin’ on us.”

“Your face tells me a different story,” you stand back up and Abby opens the door, a hand on your waist as she steers you back down the hallway, voice in your ear: “We oughtta take this back to my place.”

“You got a ride?”

part 2!!

an: first time posting in over a year… i’m actually going to try and be more consistent because i forgot how fun it is to write and had a pretty interesting 2025 (toxic relationships am i right😍), im back fr this time. i might turn this into a series where they date or smt, not sure yet. or write more cowgirl abby stuff. part two w the actual smut should be out within the next few days to a week depending on how quickly i finish my assignments for uni. anyways thanks for readinggg!

[kosmogrl]

everybody needs to read more. read all the time. read every day. read read read

[dazzlingkai]

ITZY ♡ "THAT'S A NO NO" 3RD WORLD TOUR: IN SEOUL

[radfemsevika]

Also I freaking loooooove that you’re a radfem and post fanfiction!!!! It’s like so refreshing and I hadn’t seen it that often (maybe it’s me) but so so appreciated.

awww thanks 💕 definitely also check out my baby @moonylvs

i don't see many open radfems who write fics too but im glad to do my part hahaha

about the smau id love to finish it cause at least it bothers me to leave it like that. im getting out the writing slump slowly and quietly so ill try to push through if not for myself but for you hehe 😗

[moonylvs]

girl love u xoxo

And I totally agree with Anon, there are literally no Radfem who post fanfiction, and if any of them do, they never say they're rad because someone always comes along to criticize them (⁠〒⁠﹏⁠〒⁠)

I hope that little by little we'll have to stop hiding a part of who we are just to avoid hate. Kisses to all my rad girls.

[abbysluvr]

Good Girls

Summary: Sub!Loser!Abby helps you study and you find a way to return the favour.

This is a high school au, but both characters are 18.

Warnings: PWP, Fingering (A receiving), Sub!Abby, Dom!reader, Female reader, Reader is more popular and feminine than Abby, No use of y/n, R and A call each other ‘baby’ during sex, R calls A a ‘dyke’ once while fingering her, Abby cums fast, Reader enjoys romcoms and hates at horror films, Reader sucks at Biology, Reader’s kinda mean before she gets to know Abby.

Word Count: ~3100

Author’s Note: I’m a senior and I want Abby to tutor me…

Men and Minors DNI !!

You wanted to skip today—you wanted to skip till graduation, honestly—knowing that a major biology test you’re not at all ready for is waiting on your desk when you arrive.

It’s not that you didn’t want to study last night, you did! But you just couldn’t focus, ‘cause the topic was boring you half to death…

And now you’re fucked.

The sentiment is ringing through your ears halfway through the period, as you stare at the only thing written on the test, your first name.

Your ears perk up slightly at the sound of a chair scraping across the floor beside you, a blonde with a perfect braid, named Abigail Anderson, is already done.

Everyone around you already knows she aced it, she’s topping the honour roll and leading the ‘perfect attendance club’… You can’t help the way your eyes roll back at the thought, fucking loser.

The blonde’s odd extra curriculars are all you really know about her. The few times you’ve heard someone mention Abby Anderson, they were either congratulating her academic achievements or telling you she’s a freak you need to steer clear of. You spent high school listening to the latter like it was gospel.

You waste the rest of the period writing an excuse for your lack of answers on the back of the test, praying you’ll be able to retake it if you just beg enough.

Abby spends the rest of the class watching you over the screen of her laptop, eyes trained on your embarrassing apology.

She’d hate to see you fail your last semester of high school, that’s just pathetic…

When the bell rings, signalling you’ve been released from the hell that is AP Bio, you reluctantly make your way to the teacher’s desk, dropping your test in a pile with the others. You then slip out of the room before he can corner you about the blank test, not ready for the conversation about ‘taking school seriously’ you can sense is looming.

Abby watches the entire interaction, following after you, her hand reaching for your shoulder once you’ve cleared the classroom.

She sees the way you jump at her unfamiliar touch, and the visible confusion on your face when you turn to look at her, but the blonde is not one to back down easily—no matter how much you both may want her to.

“I saw what happened back there. I could help you study for the retake, you know?” Abby’s voice quakes, her face is flushed, and her large hand is still awkwardly clamped on your shoulder.

Talking to pretty girls without being forced is not something she does often… And she’s not killing it at the moment.

“Why would you do that for me?” Your eyes search hers, as if they’ll silently tell you that this is all a weird joke.

You’ve spoken five times in your entire life—all against your will—so why is she suddenly reaching out, now?

“I tutor a bunch of people. It’s for community service hours,” She’s technically not lying, but that’s not the full truth either…

Abby doesn’t really know why she’s so against letting you fail, maybe it’s the little crush she’s been harbouring since sophomore year?

The blonde quickly shakes the thought from her mind and focuses her attention back on the conversation at hand.

“What do you say? It’ll just be a couple afternoons,” She finally releases you from her grip, realizing it’s been far too long, and instead holds her hand out for you to shake.

“Um- Sure? It’s not like I could do any worse, right?” You shake her hand, cringing internally at the old-timey gesture—but you wouldn’t expect anything less from her.

“You’ll do fine if you listen to me,” She smiles at you for the first time since freshman year.

You then realize you might like her smile.

On second glance, you kinda like her whole appearance…

You knew she was on the rugby team, just another little piece in the puzzle that builds up the ‘Perfect, Abigail Anderson’, but you never noticed how much it altered her body from the lanky thing you’d met in freshman year history class.

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After school, you pull up in front of Abby’s house, a place you never thought you’d be.

You groan under your breath, resigning yourself to the fact that you’re about to spend your afternoon studying biology with a near stranger—ew—before grabbing your bag from the passenger seat and sliding out of the car.

You take in your surroundings as you stalk towards the door, trying to distract yourself from who’s going to be on the other side of it, before finally knocking.

You can’t help but realize how fidgety you’re getting the longer you wait; why the hell is Abigail Anderson making you so nervous??

No offence, but she’s a loser. An oddly attractive loser, but a loser nonetheless!

Abby breaks you out of your train of thought by opening the door and smiling down at you.

Her stupid smile is back. She’s just so awkward, and you like it.

“Hi,” Her smile widens, it's nervous and endearing and perfect…

And she’s bigger than you, and you can see the veins in her arms through her shirt, and she smells good, and-

“You don’t have to stand out there, it’s freezing,” She once again snaps you from your thoughts, but this time you’re grateful.

Even at the end of winter, with snow still on the ground, you can feel your body heating up the more you think about her…

“Thank you, Abby,” Is all you can muster, as you step into the house after her.

You can’t help the way you cringe at yourself when her back is turned.

This isn’t like you! You could date anyone you want—and you have—but no one has ever affected you in the way she does.

You follow the blonde up to her bedroom, your brain barely taking in your surroundings as you ascend, instead focused on her thighs as they lead you up the stairs.

“This is my room. You can sit anywhere…” The blonde finally speaks again, chewing on her lower lip as she watches you examine her bedroom.

“It’s cute. Very you,” The room is full of earth tones, pictures of who you assume are her friends, and posters of old bands you only hear when your dad’s working in the garage. It’s perfect.

“Uh, thanks,” Abby can feel the way her face gets hot at your compliment, and even hotter as she watches you sink down onto her bed.

You are on her bed. She’s been dreaming about this since she was 15… She could die right now and she would die happy.

“How are you gonna teach me an entire unit in four days, Abby?” You lay back on her bed, eyes still trained on her body, an exaggerated pout on your lips as you think about how hopeless this situation is.

“There’s three main topics in the unit, if we just focus on one a day, you’ll be fine for the retake. Promise,” She awkwardly sinks down beside you on the bed, careful not to let your bodies touch, no matter how much she may want them to.

“If I fail it’s totally on you,” You grin up at her, like you’re good friends. You don’t think about it in the moment, a smile and a bad joke sorta come naturally when you’re with her.

“How’s it my fault if you don’t listen?” She scoffs, but there’s a smile fighting its way onto her face regardless.

The awkward tension is broken between you two, the room now filled with a comfortable silence as you smile at each other, lost in the eyes of another girl.

“It’s your fault because you offered to help! It would be my fault if I failed by myself, but now the shame shall be yours,” You put on a mock-serious expression.

“Oh, shut up, you’ll be fine…” Abby’s grin falls too, but it’s replaced by a subtle smirk, silently telling you, ‘You know I’m right.’

You relent under her gaze and grab your textbook out of your bag, sulking a little at the loss of eye contact.

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It took three hours, but you started to grasp the first topic. Something you didn’t expect to happen, no matter how much Abby may have tried to help you.

Now, Abby’s making you try some practice questions at the end of the textbook chapter, without her help. She said something about ‘needing you to see if you really understand’, but don’t know if you fully believe her…

Not that you mind, though, her thigh is pressed against yours and you can feel her breath on your neck due to her incessant hovering. You can’t help but love it.

Once you’ve finished the last question, and she’s gone over your answers, correcting anything you answered wrong—and explaining how to get the right answer, of course—she closes the book.

Finally, putting you out of your misery.

“What now?” Your eyes search hers for guidance, something you wouldn’t do with anyone else. Something you never expected to do with Abigail Anderson…

“You’re, uh… You’re allowed to leave, if you want, there’s nothing else we need to do today,” Her cheeks flush once again, hands getting clammy at the thought of you leaving so soon.

“I don’t mind staying. Your dad’s not home yet; I’d feel bad leaving you here all alone,” A part of you doesn't want to leave, Abby’s good company when there’s not someone in your ear telling you she’s a loser.

“You don’t have to do that, I’m pretty used to being alone.”

“I want to. If that’s okay?”

“Y- Yes…” She can’t hide her blush as it gets deeper in colour, everything suddenly feels too hot, like she just noticed how close you are, “Wanna—um—watch a movie?”

“Sure,” You smile at her blushing cheeks and stuttering words. It’s cute, you can’t help it.

You soon find out the two of you have very different ideas of what constitutes a ‘good’ movie, though, and spend twenty minutes trying to pick something. Abby wanted to show you the original Friday the 13th, and you were fully against the idea of watching a horror movie, instead suggesting a romcom.

The blonde would rather die than watch a guy and a girl get into outlandish situations, swear they hate each other, yet still end up together at the end of the film… It’s stupid and so predictable.

But she relents for you.

“Romcoms are just unrealistic! Like, a man isn’t really going to track you down and stop you from moving to another country for work because he’s oh so in love with you, he’s a MAN,” She rants while watching you scroll through romcoms on Netflix, in search of a good one.

“And horror movies are misogynistic and gross. They brutalize women for fun, Abby,” You reply, turning to give her a pointed look over your shoulder.

Your eyes are met with Abby laying on her bed, arms resting casually behind her head, playfully glaring back at you.

She looks good.

You have no idea how you let everyone convince you she was such a freak, she’s just smart and not hyper-feminine… And you like her for that.

Turning back around, you try to clear the thought from your head, as you settle on a film. The blonde can be heard groaning behind you—which makes you smile.

“Suck it up, we can watch a ton of scantily clad girls die tomorrow,” You say, as you lay down beside her, your head finding its way onto her chest and your legs tangling with hers under the blanket.

Abby’s breath hitches against her will, she can feel your thigh between her legs, she stammers awkwardly before speaking again, “You- You would like horror if you just gave it a chance…”

You notice the way her whole demeanour changes when you touch her like you’re more than ‘new friends’. But you don’t pull away, instead shifting your leg slowly, just enough to give her a bit of friction, but not enough to be suspicious.

You hear a soft sigh escape her, and feel the growing dampness around your thigh, her body stiffening under you.

She wraps an arm around your back, pulling you closer, before asking, “Are you doing that—sigh—on purpose?”

You watch the way her eyes squeeze shut.

Abby’s so cute when she’s flustered, it just makes you want to toy with her.

“What, Abby? Tell me what I’m doing…” You smirk, your hand slipping under the waistband of her shorts, before cupping her pussy through her boxers.

“You’re-” She swallows hard, “You’re touching me… With your hands,” She can’t help but rut against your palm, heat pooling between her thighs as her boxers progressively get more soaked.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask, already knowing the answer is no, but remove your hand nonetheless to tease her.

You hold your hand up for her to see the way it’s already covered in her slick after you’ve barely touched her. She whimpers.

“No- No, please no! I’ve wanted this for so long…” Abby whines at the loss of pressure, her face burrowing into your neck, pressing small, desperate kisses there, “Don’t stop, I’ll do anything…”

“You don’t have to do anything, baby, I just wanted consent,” You speak in a condescending tone, shushing her whines all the while.

“You have it, you can do anything, just please, please don’t stop…” A soft mewl then breaks from her lips as you pull her top off, leaving her chest barren in the cold room aside from a sports bra.

You can’t help but judge her choice of underwear; boxers and a sports bra, could she be any more predictable?

“Oh my god, you’re such a dyke…” You tease, staring down at her chest, the padding-less bra doing very little to hide her hardened nipples.

She doesn’t respond to the comment, instead looking up at you with pleading eyes, whining for your touch.

Her flushed face is too cute to deny, so you slip your hand under the waistband of her boxers, and press two fingers to her clit.

She lets out a quiet grunt at the new sensation, her hand reaching for your wrist, guiding your fingers to move in the little circles she desperately needs.

Within a couple minutes of your fingers on her clit and your eyes watching her like a hawk, Abby’s close to finishing. It’s embarrassing but she can’t help it! Not when you’re bullying her and making her feel so good at the same time…

The blonde is realizing some things about herself. And so are you.

“I’m gonna- I’m gonna cum…” She mumbles, sitting up slightly so she can press more kisses to your neck, wanting to thank you, but still being unable to speak more than a few broken words at a time.

“That’s all it took, Abby? Five minutes with my fingers against your clit?” Your tone is condescending once again, “I haven’t even touched your hole, baby…”

She just whines louder, more desperate, her orgasm coming closer with each movement of your fingers.

“We’ll try that tomorrow, huh? With your stupid movie in the background…” Your fingers slow their movements, and you remove her hand from your wrist so she can’t fight it, guiding it to cup one of her breasts instead.

You then watch the way her eyes roll back, the combination of your words, your fingers, and the new attention being paid to her chest is just about killing her…

“Please, please, let me cum… Please, please, please…” Her, usually overachieving, brain has turned to mush under you, the blonde can’t do much else but beg.

“You don’t have to ask, Abby, I never told you no,” You remind her gently, your voice softening like you’re talking to a child, before pressing a kiss to her ear—her begging has made you realize that you may be taking it a bit too far.

But she’s just so cute when she whines, it makes you want to make fun of her.

“Please, go fast… I need you fast, baby, I need it…” She bites your neck, hard enough to leave a mark, while trying—and failing—to suppress a moan.

“Shhh, we can go faster. But only because you asked so nicely, Abby,” The taunting is back, as your movements grow faster at an agonizing pace, her face screwing up in pleasure nonetheless, though.

“Th- Thank you…” She breathes, her eyes squeezing shut as you hit her desired pace once again.

You watch her body stiffen up, and her sighs get louder. You know what’s coming.

“Fuck… Fuck, baby…” She whines, grinding down on your fingers, her hand toying with her breasts, frantically chasing the high of an orgasm.

“You’re doing so good. So, so good, Abs,” Your compliment is just another way to taunt the blonde, but it’s what she needs to push her over the edge.

You see the way her eyes roll back, and her legs shake; she looks perfect when she finishes, all whiny and sweaty and soft.

You slow your fingers as she works through her high, stopping them fully once she flops back on her bed, catching her breath.

Her brain is mush, she can’t do much more than reach for you, silently pleading for contact once again.

You hand her a shirt before allowing her to pull you down.

Abby no longer complains about the film you chose, too tired to speak, she watches it momentarily before dozing off with you. She’s like the perfect pillow.

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The two of you are woken up later by her dad knocking on her bedroom door a second before barging in the room, without waiting for a response.

Jerry’s smile falls when he sees your current position, eyes quickly darting to the floor as you separate.

“I was gonna ask who’s parked in our driveway, but I think I figured it out…” He waves to you, face flushing the same way Abby’s does.

“Hi, Mr. Anderson,” You mumble back, barely awake, your clean hand attempting to rub the sleep from your eyes.

“Um… I’m gonna go, dinner will be waiting for you whenever you want it, Abby,” He curtly nods and leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Thanks, Dad!” She calls out once the door is shut, her face now beat red.

You both listen to his footsteps descend the stairs before either of you attempt to speak again.

“I should go, Abby,” Your eyes meet hers for a second, before you sit up fully, “I really hope you’re not in trouble… And if you are, blame me, say I’m a horrible influence,” You hold your arms up in mock-surrender, a teasing grin on your face, as if you weren’t dominating the blonde just a couple hours ago.

“I won’t be in trouble, my dad’s not like that. He’ll just give me an awkward talk about how 'he was young once, too’, and ask if we’re being safe…” She cringes at the thought.

“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, ‘kay?” You whisper, and Abby can’t help the way her thighs squeeze together under the blanket.

“Okay…” She breathes, desperate for what’s to come.

“Call me,” You smile at her one last time, before grabbing your bag and making your way out of her bedroom.

lmk if you like this bc i do have plans for future chapters

also sub!abby is my fav abby to write abt so don’t be surprised if she starts appearing on my blog more…

[moonylvs]

Sub!nerdy!abby save me pls

[abbysluvr]

Good Girls

Summary: Sub!Loser!Abby helps you study and you find a way to return the favour.

This is a high school au, but both characters are 18.

Warnings: PWP, Fingering (A receiving), Sub!Abby, Dom!reader, Female reader, Reader is more popular and feminine than Abby, No use of y/n, R and A call each other ‘baby’ during sex, R calls A a ‘dyke’ once while fingering her, Abby cums fast, Reader enjoys romcoms and hates at horror films, Reader sucks at Biology, Reader’s kinda mean before she gets to know Abby.

Word Count: ~3100

Author’s Note: I’m a senior and I want Abby to tutor me…

Men and Minors DNI !!

You wanted to skip today—you wanted to skip till graduation, honestly—knowing that a major biology test you’re not at all ready for is waiting on your desk when you arrive.

It’s not that you didn’t want to study last night, you did! But you just couldn’t focus, ‘cause the topic was boring you half to death…

And now you’re fucked.

The sentiment is ringing through your ears halfway through the period, as you stare at the only thing written on the test, your first name.

Your ears perk up slightly at the sound of a chair scraping across the floor beside you, a blonde with a perfect braid, named Abigail Anderson, is already done.

Everyone around you already knows she aced it, she’s topping the honour roll and leading the ‘perfect attendance club’… You can’t help the way your eyes roll back at the thought, fucking loser.

The blonde’s odd extra curriculars are all you really know about her. The few times you’ve heard someone mention Abby Anderson, they were either congratulating her academic achievements or telling you she’s a freak you need to steer clear of. You spent high school listening to the latter like it was gospel.

You waste the rest of the period writing an excuse for your lack of answers on the back of the test, praying you’ll be able to retake it if you just beg enough.

Abby spends the rest of the class watching you over the screen of her laptop, eyes trained on your embarrassing apology.

She’d hate to see you fail your last semester of high school, that’s just pathetic…

When the bell rings, signalling you’ve been released from the hell that is AP Bio, you reluctantly make your way to the teacher’s desk, dropping your test in a pile with the others. You then slip out of the room before he can corner you about the blank test, not ready for the conversation about ‘taking school seriously’ you can sense is looming.

Abby watches the entire interaction, following after you, her hand reaching for your shoulder once you’ve cleared the classroom.

She sees the way you jump at her unfamiliar touch, and the visible confusion on your face when you turn to look at her, but the blonde is not one to back down easily—no matter how much you both may want her to.

“I saw what happened back there. I could help you study for the retake, you know?” Abby’s voice quakes, her face is flushed, and her large hand is still awkwardly clamped on your shoulder.

Talking to pretty girls without being forced is not something she does often… And she’s not killing it at the moment.

“Why would you do that for me?” Your eyes search hers, as if they’ll silently tell you that this is all a weird joke.

You’ve spoken five times in your entire life—all against your will—so why is she suddenly reaching out, now?

“I tutor a bunch of people. It’s for community service hours,” She’s technically not lying, but that’s not the full truth either…

Abby doesn’t really know why she’s so against letting you fail, maybe it’s the little crush she’s been harbouring since sophomore year?

The blonde quickly shakes the thought from her mind and focuses her attention back on the conversation at hand.

“What do you say? It’ll just be a couple afternoons,” She finally releases you from her grip, realizing it’s been far too long, and instead holds her hand out for you to shake.

“Um- Sure? It’s not like I could do any worse, right?” You shake her hand, cringing internally at the old-timey gesture—but you wouldn’t expect anything less from her.

“You’ll do fine if you listen to me,” She smiles at you for the first time since freshman year.

You then realize you might like her smile.

On second glance, you kinda like her whole appearance…

You knew she was on the rugby team, just another little piece in the puzzle that builds up the ‘Perfect, Abigail Anderson’, but you never noticed how much it altered her body from the lanky thing you’d met in freshman year history class.

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After school, you pull up in front of Abby’s house, a place you never thought you’d be.

You groan under your breath, resigning yourself to the fact that you’re about to spend your afternoon studying biology with a near stranger—ew—before grabbing your bag from the passenger seat and sliding out of the car.

You take in your surroundings as you stalk towards the door, trying to distract yourself from who’s going to be on the other side of it, before finally knocking.

You can’t help but realize how fidgety you’re getting the longer you wait; why the hell is Abigail Anderson making you so nervous??

No offence, but she’s a loser. An oddly attractive loser, but a loser nonetheless!

Abby breaks you out of your train of thought by opening the door and smiling down at you.

Her stupid smile is back. She’s just so awkward, and you like it.

“Hi,” Her smile widens, it's nervous and endearing and perfect…

And she’s bigger than you, and you can see the veins in her arms through her shirt, and she smells good, and-

“You don’t have to stand out there, it’s freezing,” She once again snaps you from your thoughts, but this time you’re grateful.

Even at the end of winter, with snow still on the ground, you can feel your body heating up the more you think about her…

“Thank you, Abby,” Is all you can muster, as you step into the house after her.

You can’t help the way you cringe at yourself when her back is turned.

This isn’t like you! You could date anyone you want—and you have—but no one has ever affected you in the way she does.

You follow the blonde up to her bedroom, your brain barely taking in your surroundings as you ascend, instead focused on her thighs as they lead you up the stairs.

“This is my room. You can sit anywhere…” The blonde finally speaks again, chewing on her lower lip as she watches you examine her bedroom.

“It’s cute. Very you,” The room is full of earth tones, pictures of who you assume are her friends, and posters of old bands you only hear when your dad’s working in the garage. It’s perfect.

“Uh, thanks,” Abby can feel the way her face gets hot at your compliment, and even hotter as she watches you sink down onto her bed.

You are on her bed. She’s been dreaming about this since she was 15… She could die right now and she would die happy.

“How are you gonna teach me an entire unit in four days, Abby?” You lay back on her bed, eyes still trained on her body, an exaggerated pout on your lips as you think about how hopeless this situation is.

“There’s three main topics in the unit, if we just focus on one a day, you’ll be fine for the retake. Promise,” She awkwardly sinks down beside you on the bed, careful not to let your bodies touch, no matter how much she may want them to.

“If I fail it’s totally on you,” You grin up at her, like you’re good friends. You don’t think about it in the moment, a smile and a bad joke sorta come naturally when you’re with her.

“How’s it my fault if you don’t listen?” She scoffs, but there’s a smile fighting its way onto her face regardless.

The awkward tension is broken between you two, the room now filled with a comfortable silence as you smile at each other, lost in the eyes of another girl.

“It’s your fault because you offered to help! It would be my fault if I failed by myself, but now the shame shall be yours,” You put on a mock-serious expression.

“Oh, shut up, you’ll be fine…” Abby’s grin falls too, but it’s replaced by a subtle smirk, silently telling you, ‘You know I’m right.’

You relent under her gaze and grab your textbook out of your bag, sulking a little at the loss of eye contact.

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It took three hours, but you started to grasp the first topic. Something you didn’t expect to happen, no matter how much Abby may have tried to help you.

Now, Abby’s making you try some practice questions at the end of the textbook chapter, without her help. She said something about ‘needing you to see if you really understand’, but don’t know if you fully believe her…

Not that you mind, though, her thigh is pressed against yours and you can feel her breath on your neck due to her incessant hovering. You can’t help but love it.

Once you’ve finished the last question, and she’s gone over your answers, correcting anything you answered wrong—and explaining how to get the right answer, of course—she closes the book.

Finally, putting you out of your misery.

“What now?” Your eyes search hers for guidance, something you wouldn’t do with anyone else. Something you never expected to do with Abigail Anderson…

“You’re, uh… You’re allowed to leave, if you want, there’s nothing else we need to do today,” Her cheeks flush once again, hands getting clammy at the thought of you leaving so soon.

“I don’t mind staying. Your dad’s not home yet; I’d feel bad leaving you here all alone,” A part of you doesn't want to leave, Abby’s good company when there’s not someone in your ear telling you she’s a loser.

“You don’t have to do that, I’m pretty used to being alone.”

“I want to. If that’s okay?”

“Y- Yes…” She can’t hide her blush as it gets deeper in colour, everything suddenly feels too hot, like she just noticed how close you are, “Wanna—um—watch a movie?”

“Sure,” You smile at her blushing cheeks and stuttering words. It’s cute, you can’t help it.

You soon find out the two of you have very different ideas of what constitutes a ‘good’ movie, though, and spend twenty minutes trying to pick something. Abby wanted to show you the original Friday the 13th, and you were fully against the idea of watching a horror movie, instead suggesting a romcom.

The blonde would rather die than watch a guy and a girl get into outlandish situations, swear they hate each other, yet still end up together at the end of the film… It’s stupid and so predictable.

But she relents for you.

“Romcoms are just unrealistic! Like, a man isn’t really going to track you down and stop you from moving to another country for work because he’s oh so in love with you, he’s a MAN,” She rants while watching you scroll through romcoms on Netflix, in search of a good one.

“And horror movies are misogynistic and gross. They brutalize women for fun, Abby,” You reply, turning to give her a pointed look over your shoulder.

Your eyes are met with Abby laying on her bed, arms resting casually behind her head, playfully glaring back at you.

She looks good.

You have no idea how you let everyone convince you she was such a freak, she’s just smart and not hyper-feminine… And you like her for that.

Turning back around, you try to clear the thought from your head, as you settle on a film. The blonde can be heard groaning behind you—which makes you smile.

“Suck it up, we can watch a ton of scantily clad girls die tomorrow,” You say, as you lay down beside her, your head finding its way onto her chest and your legs tangling with hers under the blanket.

Abby’s breath hitches against her will, she can feel your thigh between her legs, she stammers awkwardly before speaking again, “You- You would like horror if you just gave it a chance…”

You notice the way her whole demeanour changes when you touch her like you’re more than ‘new friends’. But you don’t pull away, instead shifting your leg slowly, just enough to give her a bit of friction, but not enough to be suspicious.

You hear a soft sigh escape her, and feel the growing dampness around your thigh, her body stiffening under you.

She wraps an arm around your back, pulling you closer, before asking, “Are you doing that—sigh—on purpose?”

You watch the way her eyes squeeze shut.

Abby’s so cute when she’s flustered, it just makes you want to toy with her.

“What, Abby? Tell me what I’m doing…” You smirk, your hand slipping under the waistband of her shorts, before cupping her pussy through her boxers.

“You’re-” She swallows hard, “You’re touching me… With your hands,” She can’t help but rut against your palm, heat pooling between her thighs as her boxers progressively get more soaked.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask, already knowing the answer is no, but remove your hand nonetheless to tease her.

You hold your hand up for her to see the way it’s already covered in her slick after you’ve barely touched her. She whimpers.

“No- No, please no! I’ve wanted this for so long…” Abby whines at the loss of pressure, her face burrowing into your neck, pressing small, desperate kisses there, “Don’t stop, I’ll do anything…”

“You don’t have to do anything, baby, I just wanted consent,” You speak in a condescending tone, shushing her whines all the while.

“You have it, you can do anything, just please, please don’t stop…” A soft mewl then breaks from her lips as you pull her top off, leaving her chest barren in the cold room aside from a sports bra.

You can’t help but judge her choice of underwear; boxers and a sports bra, could she be any more predictable?

“Oh my god, you’re such a dyke…” You tease, staring down at her chest, the padding-less bra doing very little to hide her hardened nipples.

She doesn’t respond to the comment, instead looking up at you with pleading eyes, whining for your touch.

Her flushed face is too cute to deny, so you slip your hand under the waistband of her boxers, and press two fingers to her clit.

She lets out a quiet grunt at the new sensation, her hand reaching for your wrist, guiding your fingers to move in the little circles she desperately needs.

Within a couple minutes of your fingers on her clit and your eyes watching her like a hawk, Abby’s close to finishing. It’s embarrassing but she can’t help it! Not when you’re bullying her and making her feel so good at the same time…

The blonde is realizing some things about herself. And so are you.

“I’m gonna- I’m gonna cum…” She mumbles, sitting up slightly so she can press more kisses to your neck, wanting to thank you, but still being unable to speak more than a few broken words at a time.

“That’s all it took, Abby? Five minutes with my fingers against your clit?” Your tone is condescending once again, “I haven’t even touched your hole, baby…”

She just whines louder, more desperate, her orgasm coming closer with each movement of your fingers.

“We’ll try that tomorrow, huh? With your stupid movie in the background…” Your fingers slow their movements, and you remove her hand from your wrist so she can’t fight it, guiding it to cup one of her breasts instead.

You then watch the way her eyes roll back, the combination of your words, your fingers, and the new attention being paid to her chest is just about killing her…

“Please, please, let me cum… Please, please, please…” Her, usually overachieving, brain has turned to mush under you, the blonde can’t do much else but beg.

“You don’t have to ask, Abby, I never told you no,” You remind her gently, your voice softening like you’re talking to a child, before pressing a kiss to her ear—her begging has made you realize that you may be taking it a bit too far.

But she’s just so cute when she whines, it makes you want to make fun of her.

“Please, go fast… I need you fast, baby, I need it…” She bites your neck, hard enough to leave a mark, while trying—and failing—to suppress a moan.

“Shhh, we can go faster. But only because you asked so nicely, Abby,” The taunting is back, as your movements grow faster at an agonizing pace, her face screwing up in pleasure nonetheless, though.

“Th- Thank you…” She breathes, her eyes squeezing shut as you hit her desired pace once again.

You watch her body stiffen up, and her sighs get louder. You know what’s coming.

“Fuck… Fuck, baby…” She whines, grinding down on your fingers, her hand toying with her breasts, frantically chasing the high of an orgasm.

“You’re doing so good. So, so good, Abs,” Your compliment is just another way to taunt the blonde, but it’s what she needs to push her over the edge.

You see the way her eyes roll back, and her legs shake; she looks perfect when she finishes, all whiny and sweaty and soft.

You slow your fingers as she works through her high, stopping them fully once she flops back on her bed, catching her breath.

Her brain is mush, she can’t do much more than reach for you, silently pleading for contact once again.

You hand her a shirt before allowing her to pull you down.

Abby no longer complains about the film you chose, too tired to speak, she watches it momentarily before dozing off with you. She’s like the perfect pillow.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.   　　˚　✭　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　✭　.　　. 　 ˚　. ✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　

The two of you are woken up later by her dad knocking on her bedroom door a second before barging in the room, without waiting for a response.

Jerry’s smile falls when he sees your current position, eyes quickly darting to the floor as you separate.

“I was gonna ask who’s parked in our driveway, but I think I figured it out…” He waves to you, face flushing the same way Abby’s does.

“Hi, Mr. Anderson,” You mumble back, barely awake, your clean hand attempting to rub the sleep from your eyes.

“Um… I’m gonna go, dinner will be waiting for you whenever you want it, Abby,” He curtly nods and leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Thanks, Dad!” She calls out once the door is shut, her face now beat red.

You both listen to his footsteps descend the stairs before either of you attempt to speak again.

“I should go, Abby,” Your eyes meet hers for a second, before you sit up fully, “I really hope you’re not in trouble… And if you are, blame me, say I’m a horrible influence,” You hold your arms up in mock-surrender, a teasing grin on your face, as if you weren’t dominating the blonde just a couple hours ago.

“I won’t be in trouble, my dad’s not like that. He’ll just give me an awkward talk about how 'he was young once, too’, and ask if we’re being safe…” She cringes at the thought.

“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, ‘kay?” You whisper, and Abby can’t help the way her thighs squeeze together under the blanket.

“Okay…” She breathes, desperate for what’s to come.

“Call me,” You smile at her one last time, before grabbing your bag and making your way out of her bedroom.

lmk if you like this bc i do have plans for future chapters

also sub!abby is my fav abby to write abt so don’t be surprised if she starts appearing on my blog more…

[abbysluvr]

i love taylor swift and abby anderson, i love my pretty blonde babies

[billieeilishlicker]

i hope u guys see me as a niche lesbian yapper who you relate to every time i post

[melbush]

i love finding out what degrees my mutuals have. like what the fuck do you mean you do law? you’re a doctor who blog

[moonylvs]

I saw an elderly lesbian couple and it made my day so much better, I spent the whole day thinking about it (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

[abbysluvr]

Honey: Chapter 2

Summary: Feelings for Abby are starting to develop, no matter how much you try to deny them.

Content: Fluff, Abby and reader can't stop flirting, reader is struggling to admit her feelings for Abby, Abby talks about Jerry and her coin collection, Abby and reader are nerds (affectionate), reader is described as blushing as well as being shorter than Abby, reader is a woman, set before Jackson, sfw

Word Count: ~1700

Seeing you has quickly become a part of Abby’s daily routine, she’s come to your classroom or found you in the library, at least once a day, everyday, for the past three weeks.

The blonde always seems to have an excuse, usually about the kids you teach begging her to read to them again—apparently you don’t do the voices right—but you’re starting to think it’s because she just wants to see you.

At 1:30 on the dot, you can hear her knuckles rapping against the wooden door of your classroom, like they have been for days now. At this point, she’s become predictable, and you know that by this time, you need to have the kids already sitting in a circle on the carpet, with the book she’s about to read perched on a chair in front of them.

You can’t stop yourself from smiling as you walk to the door though, knowing that on the other side is the woman who has swiftly become your favourite person on the W.L.F. base.

Whether you’d like to admit it or not.

The fifteen seconds it takes you to cross the room and fling open the door feel like an eternity, but they’re worth it because on the other side is Abby’s gentle smile and scarred hands full of another load of random books that she must’ve found while patrolling.

Abby can’t stop doing that now, searching for books everywhere she goes, apologizing to you on the days that she has none to offer you, even though you’ve told her countless times that with the number you currently have, you might need to start a second library on the base soon.

“Hi, Abs,” You look up at her with a practiced smile and soft flush crossing your cheeks, “What’d you bring me today?”

“I found a few old textbooks, some random young adult novels, and a copy of Hamlet,” She glances at the spine of each as she talks about them, making sure she didn’t leave any behind, before looking up and meeting your eyes once again, searching for your approval at what she found.

“Thank you, but you really didn’t-”

“Ms. Anderson!!” You’re cut off mid sentence by the voices of the thirteen children you teach, all of which are very excited to see their favourite storyteller make her triumphant return. They do this every time she stops by, but it never ceases to make you smile like an idiot.

“Duty calls…” She relents, pulling away from your conversation and walking into the classroom like she owns the place. (She basically does at this point. The kids prefer her to you, anyway.)

There’s a chorus of greetings directed at her, followed by an ambush of high fives and hugs, to which she responds to each child by name, like she really sees them as people, something hard to find in your post-infection world.

Finally, she takes a seat on the chair carefully laid out for her, as if it’s a throne overlooking the kingdom which she rules. Abby picks up the book your class had begged for her to read for the third time now, ‘The Very Hungry Caterpillar’ by Eric Carl. They like it due to the bright colours, and the silly voices she reads with, you like it because a large portion of the story is focused on counting (you like the voices too, but you refuse to tell her that).

As she opens the book to the first page, you find yourself a seat on the carpet alongside your students, basking in the opportunity to rest that she always tries to offer you.

Abby catches your eye for a moment, once again searching for your approval, before gently shushing the class and beginning to read.

You’ve seen her do this almost twenty times now, but the way she seems to effortlessly keep them enthralled, with so much kindness and care, does something to you every time. Watching how this commanding, strong woman becomes a big softie for a bunch of kids all under the age of eight.

She’s gonna be the death of you one day, you have no clue how many more of these story times and subsequent flirting sessions you can handle before you just explode.

By the time Abby’s finished the story, the class is silent—a true rarity for a bunch of 4-8 year olds—but you’d never complain.

“Okay, guys, I have another patrol scheduled soon, so I can’t stay long,” Abby preemptively warns as she closes the book, already expecting the chorus of complaints you’re about to hear.

Abby’s prediction is obviously correct, within seconds you can hear whines and begs for her to read ‘just one more’. She seems to know them so well, it makes your heart hurt.

“You heard Ms. Anderson, guys, she can’t stay today, okay?” You put your ‘teacher voice’ back on, forcing yourself out of your thoughts about Abby.

“Listen to your teacher,” She adds, standing up from her seat and making her way towards you.

“Thank you, Ms. Honey,” Abby mumbles into your ear, as she reaches for your hand and pulls you up from your spot on the carpet. She never asks before putting her hands on you, it’s like she knows that you’re constantly itching for her touch. Maybe she’s constantly itching for yours too…

You don’t have time to think about this, you’re in the middle of a workday. You snap out of it momentarily.

“That was all you, Abs, I didn’t do anything…” You cock your head to the side, slightly confused by the thanks that you don’t deserve.

“Just accept it, Honey,” She whispers, knowing the watchful eyes of children are on you both at the moment.

“Go, you’re gonna be late,” You relent, eyes studying hers—as you fight every urge to roll them at her last comment—before adding “Be safe, okay?”

She awkwardly rests her hand on your shoulder for a moment, squeezing gently, before letting go and heading to the door.

At the door she waves goodbye to all the kids, once again speaking to each child individually, before heading out.

You don’t have time to think about the way her hands feel on your skin or the kindness she shows your students. You scold yourself constantly for getting distracted by the thought of her, but no matter how hard you try you can’t escape your own questions.

What does Abby do to your brain? You said you were going to stay single forever, you refused to seriously bring anyone new into your life due to the possibility of someday losing them horrifically out in the world, so why is she successfully weaseling her way into your heart?

Just as the new question settles in your mind, you’re pulled out of your thoughts by a child asking about snacktime.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁

Hours later, when the school day is long over, you find yourself in your makeshift library, aimlessly sorting through the endless supply of books a certain someone keeps bringing you, and silently pondering the answer to your earlier question.

As if on cue, that ‘certain someone’ appears behind you, her hand once again resting on your lower back, as if it was made to be there.

“Need help, Honey?” She prods, her eyes trained on the shelf of books you’re actively rearranging into alphabetical order. The nickname is slowly becoming second nature for her to use, but it never ceases to drive you crazy.

“Uh,” You sigh softly, relaxing into the touch, “I need a break actually, if you’re interested in getting out of this room for a bit? The words are starting to jumble together…”

She pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, before taking your hand to escort you out of the library. It’s bold, even for Abby, but you accept it without question, something you would do with no one else.

You don’t ask about where she’s taking you, instead you spend the short walk silently scolding yourself into staying quiet and not asking about her behaviour. You know it’s too risky, because if she in turn asks how you’re feeling, you might be forced to admit to both her and yourself that you like her in a way you never intended to like anyone.

Before you’ve even realized where you’re going, you arrive outside Abby’s room, having taken note of the suite that belonged to her a couple weeks ago.

“Abby, why are we here?” You finally ask, before continuing, “Please no more books… Just, not right now.”

“No more books. Promise,” She swings the door open and places her hand on your back once again to usher you inside.

“Just wanna show you that you’re not the only one with a nerdy interest…” She grins.

“What could you possibly like that’s ‘nerdy’? I mean, look at you,” You gesture to her overall build.

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Abby replies, pushing you to sit on her little couch while she grabs something.

“Is coin collecting nerdy enough for you?” She asks after a moment, her hands gently wrapped around a large vessel filled with more coins than you possibly could count.

You note the way she carries the undoubtedly heavy object with ease, her arms flexing slightly as she carries it to you.

“No way,” You laugh, jumping up to take a better look at the collection, “How did you even get into this? Money hasn’t been in production our entire lives!”

“My dad, actually…” She replies.

You don’t know much about her dad, just that he’s been dead for three years and that his death is a sore spot for her.

She continues, “He started long before the outbreak and did it right up until he died. We did it together for a while.”

“That’s really sweet, Abs,” You respond gently, erring on the side of caution.

“Yeah, I never tell anyone about it. They can’t think ‘the great Abby Anderson’ has such an embarrassing hobby, can they?” She smiles down at you once again.

“I guess not. Now they just think you’re weirdly into taking books out of the homes of long dead families.” You tease, a grin flashing across your face.

“Oh, shut up, I do that for you!” She counters, a laugh fighting its way out as she speaks.

Chapter 1

lmk if you wanna be tagged as i continue the series <3

[abbysluvr]

Honey

Summary: An early morning trip to the small on-base library, leads to you meeting one of Issac’s right hand men.

Content: Meet-cute, fluff, reader is a teacher on the wlf base, Abby and reader can’t stop flirting, Abby calls reader ‘Ms. Honey’, reader is described as blushing/feeling awkward a couple times as well as being shorter than Abby, reader is a woman, set before Jackson, sfw

Word Count: ~1800

Editor: My beautiful, amazing best friend in the whole wide world, @backt2u

Author’s Note: I already have plans for a second and third part, so please let me know if you’re interested <3

Teaching on the W.L.F. base isn’t an easy task. You’ve been living among them for the past few months and have since learned that ‘book-smarts’ are not seen as a priority; it was brute strength and the ability to fight that were viewed as important. As long as each of the W.L.F. children knew the basics of reading, writing, and math, Issac was content.

You, on the other hand, were not.

It is this dissatisfaction that has landed you in the annoyingly small library on base, way too early in the morning. Searching the space for any books that the children you teach will be able to read, understand, and most importantly, enjoy.

Your newfound endeavour has allowed you to feel truly useful for the first time since you joined the Wolves. Seeing the children you teach get a chance to experience the world before the outbreak through literature is all you could ask for.

It’s taken weeks, but you have skimmed through every book in the library—well, almost—going shelf by shelf, sorting as you go. The work is tedious but rewarding, and you hope that if people are able to locate what they want more easily, then maybe it’ll help more than just your students feel inspired to read.

This morning, specifically, has found you on a mission to locate a simple picture book. Something age-appropriate for your young students. You make your way over to the shelves you’ve devoted to children’s books, stopping in place when you hear the sound of soft breaths.

You can instantly tell it’s not infected; there's something too gentle and calm about the sound to ever be mistaken for a clicker, but you have no clue why someone would be sleeping in the library of all places, especially since everyone on base had been given an assigned room.

You quietly approach the unknown source of this sound, mouth falling open slightly at the sight of one of Issac’s right-hand men sleeping soundly at a table in the library, head resting on her perfect, crossed arms in front of her, turned to the side so you can see her pouty expression.

Abby, you think her name is, you've seen her around base from time to time, but never this close. Without realizing it, you find yourself staring, taking in the subtle details of her face like the curve of her nose and the subtle dusting of freckles across her cheeks.

Quickly, you realize what you're doing and shake yourself out of the stupor. She’s probably exhausted from patrolling; that’s what she seems to always be doing, at least as far as you know, so you decide it’s best to just leave her alone and let her sleep. So long as you can reach past her for the book you want…

Now that the title has caught your eye, you have to have it. With school starting soon, you unfortunately can't just come back later; you need this book now if you’re going to read it in class today.

And so, you lean over her perfect pouty face and beautifully chiseled arms, and attempt to grab the book.

Okay, maybe you should’ve been looking at the book you were reaching for, instead of at her arms, because just as your hand clasps around the book’s spine, you fumble and the book slips right from your hand and onto the desk in front of her with a loud bang. You cringe at the mistake, feeling the blonde stirring under you. Goddamnit.

“Wha…” She mumbles, pulling her hand away from her face, blinking the sleep from her eyes.

You instantly straighten and flush bright red, stunned by your own stupidity.

“I’m so sorry, I just needed a book for my class, and I really thought I’d be able to grab it without waking you.” You cringe as the words tumble out, too fast, too self-conscious.

“You’re fine,” She laughs breathlessly, “it’s not every day you get to wake up with a pretty girl on top of you.”

You flush brighter. Was that flirting? Did she just flirt with you, or have you finally lost it? If Abby’s smirk says anything, then the answer might actually be yes.

“I’ll uh… I’ll just grab my book and get out of your hair. My class is about to start, so I should be going anyway,” You say awkwardly, reaching past her to grab the short story, your eyes catching on her muscle definition, before you silently scold yourself and return your focus to her face.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Ms. Honey,” Abby smiles, softer now.

“Ms. Honey?” You question, head quirked to the side.

“Matilda’s teacher,” She supplies, her voice slowly becoming addictive to you, “‘Cause you know…” She gestures to the books in your hands.

You laugh awkwardly, “Oh.”

“It just seems fitting,” She adds, smirking again.

“I gotta go, it was, uh, very nice to meet you,” You wave shyly before quickly exiting the library, trying desperately to regain your focus on today’s lesson and away from the beautiful woman you just met.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁

A few hours later, you find yourself halfway through a math lesson, desperately trying to help their little minds grasp the concept of multiplication. You’re just sitting down to help a group of kids figure out the sum of 15x3 when you hear a soft knock on the classroom door.

You quietly excuse yourself from the group, telling the kids you’ll be right back, a confused look crossing your features, which quickly fades when you see a tall, muscular blonde standing in the doorway.

“Uh, I was out patrolling, and I found some more kids’ books left behind in an old library… I brought as many as I could; they’re still in pretty good condition,” She smiles down at you like a puppy searching for a positive reaction. Her eyes locked onto yours.

“Thank you,” You blush, “We could, uh, go through them together sometime. You know, sort them properly?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” She smirks, making your stomach flip. Once again, you find your mind–or, more accurately eyes–beginning to wander down to Abby’s annoyingly perfect lips, but your mind is quickly pulled out of the moment by a small hand grabbing your leg.

“I can’t do it!” Cries the little girl currently grabbing at your jeans.

“I’ll be right back, sweetheart, I’m just gonna talk to my friend for another minute.” You pat her shoulder, gently ushering her back towards their friends.

Turning back to apologize to Abby, you’re surprised to see how her features have softened after looking at the kid. Maybe it’s because it would be nice to have some help with this lesson, or maybe it's just because you want to keep Abby around a bit longer, but the look in her eyes gives you an idea.

“Abby?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m having a hard time getting all the kids to grasp this lesson, teaching them all by myself… Do you know anything about multiplication and division?” You ask, trying to feign confidence.

“Yeah, of course I do. Why, what do you need?” She doesn’t hesitate before agreeing to whatever you’re about to task her with, searching for any opportunity to spend more time together.

“Would you mind helping me? The kids are separated into little groups; they just need someone to make sure they’re actually on track… It’s hard to do alone since there’s only one of me and, like, thirteen of them.” Even with the fake air of confidence, you can’t stop yourself from blushing in her captivating presence.

“Anything you need, I’m good for.” She smirks, leaning against the doorframe, her face inches from yours; so close that you can see every small scar left on her skin from years of combat. She’s gonna kill you if she keeps this up. It wouldn’t be the worst way to die.

Her eyes draw you in…

But the moment is swiftly ruined by a shriek behind you, followed by shrill fighting about the difference between multiplying and dividing.

“Maybe we should go help them?” She asks, her smirk now replaced with a look of concern for the kids.

“Uh, yeah, come with me,” you say, feigning casual confidence while internally fist-pumping the air.

You lead Abby into the small classroom and quickly explain the lesson plan and how to help them without giving away the answer. Before you know it, she’s settled into a groove, explaining the basic principles with patience, until almost every child in the room can grasp the concept.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁

By the time the few parents living on the W.L.F. base arrive at your classroom to pick up their children, you feel like collapsing with relief, the pair of you triumphant, yet exhausted.

Abby definitely deserves some credit for how well school went today. You don’t hesitate to tell any parent who asks about the woman who saved the math lesson, read to the class during story time with individualized voices for each character, and had every kid already begging for her return.

When the classroom door finally closes behind the last child, you feel a large, but gentle, hand on the small of your back.

“You still wanna sort through those books together sometime, Honey?” Abby asks, thinly veiling her nervous anticipation as she waits for your answer.

“Uh…” You find yourself struggling to speak due to the combination of her strong hand on you and the pet name she just used, “Yeah- Yeah, I’d love to.”

After a moment, you allow yourself to relax into the near-stranger’s touch, finding comfort in something other than your work for the first time in months.

“Abby?” You look to meet her eyes once again, a question popping into your mind.

“Hm?”

“Why were you sleeping in the library?”

“Oh, uh…” She cringes, “My roommate, Manny, had a girl over last night. I would say it’s because I didn’t want to intrude, but the real answer is that he’s really loud, if you get what I mean?”

You can feel your face getting hot just at the thought of Abby and sex in the same context. You have to shake the idea from your head to get yourself back onto a more appropriate train of thought.

“Well, next time he does that, let me know? There’s a spare bed in my room, and you can totally use it any time you need…” You pull your lower lip between your teeth, chewing on it anxiously as you await her response.

“Knowing Manny, it won’t be long before I’m knocking on your door.” She responds so casually as if she can’t see what her mere existence does to you. You hate how much you don't hate it.

[osarahe]

My baby Abby <3

Finished my Abby piece! Her at each stage of her life in a different modern au.

I love all of these characters sm and I want them to have the bestest lives so in my head they’re all happy together 😭

I've recently gained a new deep appreciation for abby that I never had before.... I love her downnnn, thats my girl fr

[moonylvs]

Un abrazo gigante para todas mis chicas de México, cuídense muchísimo y eviten salir de sus casas, mantenganse informadas, seguras y tengan sus teléfonos cargados, esperemos esto pase pronto y espero todas se encuentren seguras con sus familias y seres queridos, saldremos de esto con más fuerza ❤️‍🩹🫂