you need to keep playing red dead because guess what you get to dress arthur up and get all of this cool stuff BUTTTT YOU WON’T KNOW UNTIL YOU GET THEREEEEEEEEEEEE also these twitter people hating on abby sexuality headcanons need a hobby asap
okay i want to talk about this actually.
lesbians constantly have to sit through homophobia. constantly.
we are the only sexuality that refuses to center men. this is constantly getting us punished because people cannot fathom women not centering men.
i literally don’t care if it irritates people to headcanon abby as a lesbian, imo she’d probably realistically be pan, but if i’d like to headcanon her as a lesbian i will. cause it’s a fucking head canon.
if you are uncomfortable with someone head canoning a character as lesbian but fine with mlm slips or bi headcanons you are lesbophobic that’s it.
i’m so fucking sick of the lesbian and bisexual discourse. i’m also irritated because everyone is going so hard for bi men, which yes we should defend the LGBT, but anytime there’s homophobia happening to lesbians it’s fucking crickets.
it’s so disgusting that there’s blatant homophobia constantly that lesbians just have to sit and take.
YOUR HEAD IS hung low, staring aimlessly into the cup of coffee that held the smallest bit of creamer in it, so much so that it might well have been absent of it. and your body was hot, dumbly clad in all black mixing with the heat from the sun that the umbrella placed in the middle of the cafe’s outside table didn’t help much with covering you from the rays. your phone was faced down on to the very same table, buzzing every few minutes but you didn’t have the energy to check who or what was sitting on your screen.
self-isolation that you had proclaimed as much needed solitude to anyone who asked had been consuming your life the past month and a half.
your emotions were a never ending track and your body seemed to be controlled by some machine that just wouldn’t let it stop running. back and forth and back and forth you thought with your head then your heart, and somewhere in between they became so meshed together that you didn’t know which was which. you didn’t know wether to feel helpless, enraged, confused, or just outright ‘sad’—or maybe everything and nothing all at once.
maybe everything you were feeling was so intense that a dark box with a crank formed inside of you and day and night the crank wound up on it’s own and out popped your heart and sanity.
but most of all, what stuck to your whole body in the way that venom does to spider-man was the yearning, the longing, the complete and total surrender of the feeling when you miss someone. when as soon as you wake up, you check your phone and tell yourself you won’t check if they have called or texted but you know deep down that’s all you hoped for. when you just…miss their laugh, their cute little quirks—it’s different than just missing the memories of someone, it’s just wanting them to be around you even if they’re not with you.
just a chance to see them.
that’s how you felt about nikki.
all you wanted was nikki and nothing more. even if she were on someone else’s arm, didn’t dare look at you—all you wanted was to just feel like you were in the same world as her, just for a second.
you don’t understand and can’t wrap your head around how you could be together for so long, for three and a half years to be exact, for one day her emotions just completely turn off for you and click on for baron or ‘bear,’ the guy who you had the strongest distaste for in the world—or universe for that matter.
you understand the whole being friends with someone and accidentally falling for them. you can’t help it, no one can necessarily control how they feel about a person. but bear took it to another level. you seen it instantly when you first started hanging out with nikki, before you started dating, when you had met her by what you wouldn’t even say was by chance but was supposed to happen when you first moved to san fernando, mindlessly walking the streets before stumbling upon a record store where you had not been even the prettiest girl but a vision of a woman. and after pretending to search for a guitar with the help of her you just mustered up the courage to ask for her number, which of course she gave.
after texting non-stop for what felt like a month but were really a week, she confidently invited you out at a trivia night she said she often went to with her friends. immediately you seen how bear hovered over her with that stupid wide-eyed gaze he looked upon her with that would be more creepy than it already were if he was some random guy. how every time you hung out with nikki he was texting her every minute wether it be some dumb brainrot meme or how was your day? what are you up? hang today?
you could see in his mind it wasn’t just some deepened crush but rather it was that he and nikki were already together—that somewhere, somehow she felt the same. and you were never jealous or insecure around their friendship or him in general, it just disgusted you how entitled he felt to her, all of her. her time, space, energy, attention. the look he gave you when nikki held your hand, ditched hang outs to be by your side, looked at you to drive her home—every time he looked your way he just always seemed to be trying to in someway kill you with his mind. or just flat out secretly planning to kill you with his hands.
it was utterly childish and disgusting, but you were not and would never try and dictate who nikki could be friends with. plus, she always reassured you she would never even look his way, that he was nothing more than someone she seen like a brother to her and part or most of the reason she kept him around was because they had been friends for so long at that point. and truth be told sometimes, when it go too much, she’d express to you how ridiculous and uncomfortable his hovering made her.
but the one night, the actual one night where you decide you just want to stay home and nikki decides to go out without you, the one night when bear drives her home—everything changes.
you had been waiting up, nodding in and out of sleep but you hadn’t seen nikki since early that afternoon; and as clingy as it sounds you wanted to be up when she got back home, to kiss her and listen to her talk about her day/night out, no matter how tired you were. you expected her to come home, call out your name to see if you were still up while she were by the door, taking off the boots you seen her leaving in before coming into the living room to find you sprawled out on the couch. she would ask you why you were still like she always did when you wasted late hours being a night owl, but she didn’t.
if anything, she were deathly silent when she came through the door. so silent in fact you didn’t even hear her come in, you just sensed her presence as it scared you out of your sleepy daze, causing you to jump and lift up from the couch cushions.
“you scared me,” you voice is groggy as you eye the girl who weirdly seemed to be in a daze, just standing there, boots still on.
“you okay? how was trivia night?”
“it was uh,” she stiffly blinks a few times. “it was good.”
“you seem tired?”
“i just uh, i think i had too many drinks.” immediately you stand from the couch, ready to get her water, aspirin, help her take her uncomfortable clothes off—whatever she needed.
“you need anything? water? want me to grab a change of clothes?”
“no, no, i’m fine—it’s just, i don’t know…can we just go to bed?”
“of course, come on.”
that night you waited until she fell asleep to go to sleep on your own, well you somewhat got sleep because through the night nikki kept going back and forth from cuddling with you to pushing you away, back to cuddling with you but you assumed she must just be overheated from the drinks she had. you just assumed she had been in a daze from being drunk.
but the next day things got even stranger, well, in the morning everything was as it should be at first. she woke up with a kiss, told you good morning, urged you to stay in bed a little longer—but once you both started getting ready for the day, you offered to make her tea and out of nowhere she snapped on you.
“hey, baby,” you call out. “i’m making tea, you want any?”
“no,” you jump a little, thinking she were still in the bathroom but she creepily had been behind you in the open concept doorway of the kitchen.
“why would i want tea? especially from you.”
“what?” you’re taken back by her sudden hostility.
“what?”
“are you okay? are you upset or something—”
“no,” her face creases. “i’m sorry. i don’t know why i—”
“it’s okay,” you draw out, a little suspicious of this subtle, yet noticeable behavior change.
“you always do get a little moody in the morning, but we should get going, i have to drop you off then head to work.”
“actually, bear’s gonna pick me up.”
“oh.”
“i don’t wanna make you late is all, plus, me and bear start at the same time today.”
you didn’t think much of it than, really, you didn’t. it was true that you had been late to work twice that week due to dropping nikki off at the music store which was all the way on the other side of town from your job at som janky coffee shop, but once the occurrence happened three days in a row it rubbed you the wrong way. and it wasn’t just that—when you and nikki planned a dinner date she blew you off for bear, then came home acting like she hadn’t remembered any of it. you asked her to watch a movie, just the two of you, alone on a thursday night, she asks if bear can join—you reluctantly agreed.
then came the fighting.
“you’ve been icing me out, nikki. i asked you out, i asked to spend time with you and you’re blowing me off for bear.”
“he’s my friend, y/n!” her eyes cut sharp into you, through the mirror of her vanity.
“i can’t help it if you’re jealous!”
your heart is pounding so loud you can hear it in your ears but you remained leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over your chest as you try your best to hold your natural tone, unlike her raising one.
“i’m not jealous, nikki. i trust you. i’m just trying to understand what’s gotten into you lately. you’ve been mean, picking fights, avoiding me—and it doesn’t make it better when you blow me off for a guy who we all know is in love with you, borderline obsessed with you.”
“that’s literally the definition of being jealous. why, y/n, why are you so jealous? what’s gotten into you? it’s not like i’m sleeping with him?”
a sharp breath leaves your mouth before your brain can even process it, “what?”
her head whips around, her eyes blinking a few times, the same weird way they had been for the past week like she’s coming out of some trance.
“you win, nikki. i’ll make sure to leave the door unlocked for you.” you turn your heel, feet bare as you move as fast as you can into the living room and away from her but it’s so no use as she’s following you, her heels clicking behind you.
“y/n, i’m sorry—”
“i don’t want to talk right now, nikki. enjoy your night out.”
“baby, please,” she pleads, following the path you lead as your take a seat on the couch, head hanging low with your hands to support them.
she crouches down in front of you, “i’m sorry. i—i don’t know what’s happening to me, i don’t know what’s going on and it’s making me feel crazy.”
“what are you talking about, nikki?”
“i don’t know how to explain it…”
“then don’t. not tonight at least,” your gaze shifts to her own, her eyes glossy as they threaten to spill.
“i don’t want to hear it. you’ve said enough tonight.”
“i—i won’t go out, just please…”
and though she spent that night apologizing, crying in your arms about how she weirdly felt how sometimes she had no control over herself or her own body, it didn’t really matter much because two days after that she were right back to be cruel—telling you that you were clingy and slamming the door in your face as she rushed to bear’s shitbox car.
you tried to make sense out of all that’d been happening, you thought maybe she were getting bored of the healthy covey you had build together—maybe she needed to run off and be wild for a little, and you never thought she would but if that meant cheating on you with bear then so be it, because truth is you loved her so much, you would pathetically sit at home and wait for her to come back into your arms and cry and beg and tell you how much she missed you, how sorry she was, how she only wanted to be with you.
but that day never came, instead the opposite came.
she broke up with you over text, not a paragraph, not a two hour long voice memo but rather a i want to be with bear. it’s over.
and the worst part is, she didn’t even take the time to gather her things—all of it were still in the place the way she had left, like she were still here with you and you were too crumbled to move it.
you texted sarah asking her what was going on and to your surprise she was just was weirded out as you—saying how creepy it was that out of nowhere nikki can’t keep her hands off bear, how they’re always on dates, she packs him lunch. and ian, well, ian was just an asshole and though he thought it was bizarre, he took the time to crack a joke about how bear of all people managed to steal your girlfriend away from you.
and your gut was telling something was deeply wrong but who were you to go and beg for nikki, to go to bear’s house and have her open the door while wearing one of his shirt and have her tell you she didn’t want you there.
and you would let go if you could, you would take the highs with the lows and just be heartbroken for months on end before just letting it go—before just walking around thinking and accepting that she had just been in love with him all along, finally realized it, dumped you and was just too chicken to face come and get her things and face you. but one night, two weeks after she’d broken up with you, she called you one night and though she didn’t say anything—it twisted something deep inside you with a gaping pit of worry.
your face shoved into the pillow, you reach beside you with aimlessness to grab the phone that buzzed beside you—stupidly you pick up the phone without checking what time it were or who was calling.
“hello?” you groan out to which you get no answer.
“hello? who is this?” you pull the phone from your ear, squinting at the bright light, but ultimately pausing in a chaos of emotions when you read the caller id name.
nikki <3
“nikki?” in an instant you sit up. “are you okay?”
still she doesn’t say anything, the tone going click.
you immediately called sarah after that, despite it being well over dawn—you urged her about nikki and if she were okay, or if she had heard from her. and her response didn’t make you feel any better because the last time she had seen nikki was at ian’s party that passed weekend that you deliberately missed out on—she told you nikki had read some twisted poem, acted out when they were playing a game and bear to kiss sarah, she even smashed her face in pretty bad.
it’s safe to say you didn’t sleep for the rest of that night.
and even though you were sleep deprived, as soon as cassall’s opened you drove your car like a madman up to the store; whee of course, nikki had off that day but bear didn’t.
“where is she?” in a haste you walk up to the counter where he pathetically stood.
“i don’t think that’s any of your busine—”
“is it my business. what happened at that party? she smashed her own face in? you know she called me last night right? so, where the hell is she?”
he shakes his head, “she wouldn’t call you. she doesn’t want to talk to you.”
of course that’s the head on thing he chooses to respond to.
“i didn’t know what fucking game you’re playing, bear but you’re not going to win. you’re pathetic and a fucking loser, you have nothing going for you in life and never will, so stop trying to ruin her’s.”
“look, man,” he reaches out to place a hand on your shoulder but you quickly swat it away.
“i get it, i’d be acting the same way too if i lost nikki freeman but you need to get a grip. she doesn’t love you, she loves me.”
you don’t even think, and maybe you should have but he deserves it when you reach up with full force and sock him right in the nose.
“fuck you.” you storm away, pushing the glass doors open so hard they might as well have broken.
“did you want a refill?”
you snap from your thought, the waitress now standing behind you with coffee pot in hand.
“uh, no thank you, just the check.”
“just a second.”
“thank you.” is all you mange to utter before she walks away.
it just doesn’t make sense, no matter how many ways you try to put it—you knew nikki, even if she did have feelings for bear she wouldn’t treat you this way even if you were a stranger. it’s nikki freeman we’re talking here.
nikki-fucking-freeman.
she had this laugh that was soft, yet squeaked loud in a weird way to made you contagiously laugh too. not to mention this smile that made you smile too, you couldn’t resist it—it looked like it belonged in a crest toothpaste commercial how it shined with pearl like white and were perfectly aligned. her cheekbones were sharp but also contrastingly soft, almost like they were handcraft and they were so cute you just want to pinch them. and her voice, god her voice it was like silk to the ears, she could read the most boring sentence and somehow keep your drawn in just because it were her speaking, just because it was the sound of her soft, delicate, and giving voice.
her eyes were dark and sparkly, they intimidated you but you also didn’t want to look away from them because they were so captivating; they were doe-like and she always looked like she was holding a secret behind them that you wanted to know.
her heart definitely had to be pure. it had to be by how she embodied the definition of someone who is truly selfless, doing things just because she felt it were the right, kind thing to do and expecting nothing in return. nikki, she was the type of girl who pulled the last twenty dollars from her pocket and gave it to a homeless man without a second thought. she was the type of friend who would answer your call no matter what time of day or night and listen to you, be there for you, even if she had an early shift at work. she went out of her way for others and didn’t even think about it, or hesitate. she’d drive you to work even with the last bit of gas in her tank and no idea how she would refill it.
she’d keep your secrets and take them to the grave. if she knew you liked someone, she’s the one to be your wingwoman. she hugged you when you were breaking down and somehow be this force of nature to make it all better with simple yet poetic words.
humorous, stylish, wickedly smart, and not to mention talented to the bone—like to type of talented that would take her places and open up her heart full of big dreams she carried.
point is, nikki was the type of girl you wanted around you all the time. she was the company you didn’t have to second guess. she was someone who made you want to be around her all the time without even noticing it.
she wouldn’t yell at you, she wouldn’t slam doors in your face, she wouldn’t break up with you over text—and she damn sure wouldn’t psychotically smash her face in at some party, no matter how intoxicated she was. she wouldn’t fucking date bear for crying out loud. if she were going to leave you for anyone it wouldn’t be baron bailey.
“here’s the check,” the blonde slides the small tin tray that held a receipt and pen on it onto the table.
“just sign when you’re do—” the default tone of your phone running cuts the waitress off.
“got it, thank you,” you politely dismiss her as your reach for the phone.
nikki <3
you answer with the speed of light, “nikki?”
“y/n.” her voice is weak and faint but you can still make out your name from her lips.
“are you okay?”
“i love you,”
“i love you too, nik. what’s going on?”
“it’s not me,” your brows furrow with her cryptic words. “i’m not there, i’m not the one with bear. it’s not really me.”
“what—what do you mean it’s not really you? where are you, nikki?”
“no,” her voice cuts sharp. “you can’t come here, it’s not safe, y/n.”
“i don’t care, nikki, just tell me what’s going on—did he hurt you?”
Pairing: Abby x f! reader
Tags: Fluff, pain mentioned, Abby is a bit grumpy, repression of pain, reader lightly caring for Abby.
Word count: 535
Additional info: No use or mention of physical descriptions of the reader, no use of y/n, based on the pains I noticed in Abby while playing with her during the last week.
Shoulder pain!Abby who tries to ignore it like it’s nothing, but every now and then rolls her neck or tenses her arm like her body betrays her for a second. She never says anything, but by now you’ve learned to read that tiny gesture.
Shoulder pain!Abby who keeps training just as hard, hitting the punching bag or lifting weights like she doesn’t care, until at the end of the day she stays still a second too long, taking a deep breath—like only then does the pain finally catch up to her.
Shoulder pain!Abby who sits down beside you after a long patrol without saying a word, and when you reach over to touch her shoulder she goes stiff not because she doesn’t want you to, but because she’s used to carrying everything alone.
Shoulder pain!Abby who pretends she’s “fine” when you ask, but her silence lingers too long and her eyes drift away a little, like admitting it would be more uncomfortable than the pain itself.
Shoulder pain!Abby who looks at you like offering help is a strange idea the first time you do it. Not because she doesn’t want it, but because she’s not used to someone paying attention to the small details of her pain. In the end, she only nods once—briefly.
Shoulder pain!Abby who doesn’t say anything when you start massaging her shoulder. She just lowers her head a little. And after a few seconds, her body gives in just slightly, like she doesn’t want to admit how good it feels.
Shoulder pain!Abby who tries to joke while you help her—something short, dry, almost automatic—but her voice turns softer without her noticing, betraying how tired she actually is.
Shoulder pain!Abby whose first massage isn’t comfortable at first. Her body is too used to resisting. But after a few minutes she stops being so tense, like her system takes time to understand she’s not in combat anymore, that she doesn’t have to endure everything.
Shoulder pain!Abby who doesn’t ask you to keep going, but doesn’t pull your hand away either when you find the exact spot where the pain builds up. And the silence between you says more than any “thank you” could.
Shoulder pain!Abby who tries to carry something heavier than she should, like the pain doesn’t exist. You notice the exact second her shoulder tightens and don’t hesitate to step in—taking it from her hands or helping without asking.
Shoulder pain!Abby who frowns when you scold her, not because she’s annoyed but because she isn’t used to someone setting limits for her like that. She stays still for a moment, breathing hard, like she’s debating whether to listen or keep pushing.
Shoulder pain!Abby who actually stops when you tell her, “That’s enough,” because you say it with so much certainty that for a moment she really listens. She doesn’t argue. She just looks at you—more annoyed at being stopped than at the pain—but stays where you are.
Shoulder pain!Abby who finally lets you make her sit down and rest, letting out a heavy breath and leaning back just a little. It’s not defeat, but it is a forced pause. And even though she rolls her eyes, she doesn’t get up again.
a/n: Honestly, from the very first time I played as Abby, I noticed the constant pain she had in her shoulder. I recently realized that not many people really talked about it, so I wanted to write something on the subject.
I also have a short one-shot that I’ll probably publish later. I hope you enjoyed this little piece for now!
i NEED you to be insufferable about Nikki cus i NEED her
thinking about nikki post wish, who has trouble sleeping and has nightmares about what happened :( waking up to her screaming sometimes and having to comfort her until she calms down. stirring awake and spotting nikki in the corner of the room, mumbling to herself. having to guide her back to bed, whispering soft words into her ear while you tuck her back into bed, holding her tightly, giving her space if she needs it.
streamer!nikki and her very good streamer friend who her chat ships her with :3 whenever she plays with you, the chat is filled with teasing comments about her "date" with you. think she'd play into it for sure and she gets fuzzy feelings inside her stomach when you also play into it and call her pet names or something.
dates with nikki, waiting so nervously for her at the table, heart fluttering out of your chest when you see her walk into the restaurant in the prettiest outfit ever @__@ making a fool out of yourself when you stand up so quickly, making the chair drag loudly across the floor. nikki holding your hand across the table, playing footsie with you while you chew on your food. ughhh....nikki fighting for the bill because she wants to pay for you <3 you WILL let her pay and you WILL thank her with kisses.
nikki and the cute cashier to whom she gives book updates to <3 whenever she comes in, you always ask her about her book. she jokes about putting you in the acknowledgements because you sometimes give her 10 percent off. i'm thinkin' about hanging out with her after a shift, just walking around, grabbing a bite to eat, talking about her book and her aspirations as a writer, encouraging her to reach out to publications.
ughhh...sleeping over at nikki's place for the first time. slipping into bed, butterflies beating in your chest as you watch her undress, nikki teasing you for your not so subtle staring. nikki getting under the covers with you, pulling you against her chest, wrapping her arms around you.
i think she'd be the best gift giver ever. she'd be so thoughtful :(
writer!nikki using you for her books but it's just her kissing and touching you....she's writing a love story and needs to describe a heated makeout session? she's sitting you down and shoving her tongue down your throat for a while before kissing your nose and hopping back to her typewriter, mind filled with all sorts of scenes :3 she's writing a smutty part? let her touch you for a bit! she wants to describe how it feels to plunge her fingers into a tight hole perfectly.
nikki and your new kitten that she loves more than you it seems like.. she'd ask to come over, and you think you're about to get some, but she pushes you to the side to scoop up the little kitten on the floor. she's always cuddling with it, giving it the belly rubs and head scratches she used to give you 😕
nikki, who makes the prettiest sounds ever when she's kissing you. tiny whines, breathless moans, ragged breaths while she presses her lips harder into yours.
eater nikki who doesn't stop until you're sobbing <3
I absolutely love your Nikki Freeman stuff. Would you be able to do something along the lines of Nikki makes a wish that reader likes her back. But nothing changes because reader already likes her back so shes still acting the same. I'd love if it ended with them getting together though. Your writing is amazing.
we’re both idiots | n. freeman
summary: 3.8k words. nikki’s had a crush on you for years. she finds a way for you reciprocate those feelings, but it doesn’t go as she expects.
the one wish willow had been sitting on nikki’s bedside table for approximately two days, seven hours, thirty-six minutes, and five—six—seven—
it started looming over her every thought.
whenever she saw you, mostly.
you were completely and utterly oblivious to the fact that nikki was into you.
she wasn’t sure how many times she’d tried flirting with you, dropping hints, trying—begging you to realize what she was doing so you would just ask her out.
and then she thought, after months, that the reason was probably not that you were oblivious and that you were simply ignoring her feelings because you absolutely didn’t reciprocate them.
she preferred thinking you were just unaware and shy.
nikki had gotten the one wish willow after a trip to a crystal shop with sarah. the two of them went inside, looked around at everything, and sarah had gotten a small piece of jade, and a bundle of sage.
nikki hadn’t planned on buying anything.
that was, until she saw the one wish willow.
sarah had laughed at it and then went to the counter to buy her stuff.
now, the one wish willow sat with a heavy, dark aura in nikki’s bedroom.
it wasn’t real. obviously. it was a collectible.
except when nikki had looked up the one wish willow on google, there were many different experiences. some said it worked, some said it didn’t.
some were disappointed nothing happened, others claimed that it’d gave them their dream life. there was one horror story about a guy whose wish ended badly, and he’d had to change his name and address.
so, it could go both ways.
well, if it actually worked.
when nikki laid in bed that night, ready to sleep, she couldn’t help but stare at the box.
was it staring back?
it felt like it.
it gave her the creeps.
she sat up on her bed, back against her headboard, and grabbed the one wish willow. she ripped the box open and pulled the stick out.
nikki stared at it for a long moment.
she thought of you.
she’d lost count of how long she’d liked you. it was a heavy weight on her shoulders, anytime you were near. a whisper in her voice that said ‘act right, smile nice. don’t be obvious.’
she was sure she’d been obvious, sometimes.
she thought of all the times you’d been nice to her. actually nice, like when you let her have your shoulder whenever she wanted to talk about things that frustrated her or upset her. how you’d ask, ‘do you want advice, or just someone to listen?’
she could talk to you about anything—that wasn’t an exaggeration.
and it was…freeing. she didn’t need to worry about you judging her. she’d always craved to have that kind of connection with someone.
now, if it had only stayed a friendship.
she started falling for you, officially, in ninth grade. after ‘freaky nikki’ happened, specifically.
she’d been devastated, once she showed up to school and people had started calling her that. staring at her, laughing at her, calling her other ugly, disgusting names.
she’d gone to one of the girls’ bathrooms, locked herself in a stall, and cried until she was exhausted. her eyes heavy, nose red, temples throbbing.
of course, you happened to find her. for some strange, awful, and wonderful reason, you always knew exactly when she was feeling bad.
she had brought it up once and you had smiled, laughed, and said “maybe i’m just psychic.”
maybe you were. either way, you’d been the one by her side. so loyal, so caring, so gentle with her heart and her feelings that it was almost inevitable. one moment she was laughing at a milkshake-mustache above your lip and the next, she had wanted to kiss it off you.
she pushed those feelings far, far down. if she couldn’t date you, she wanted you as a friend.
no, needed you as a friend. not just a friend, her best friend. the type of friend you grow old with, despite any arguments or disagreements or the challenges of living a hard life.
so, she spent her high school years pining from the sidelines. watching you smile and kiss and date other people. her heart would ache a little every time you mentioned someone else. when you’d taken another girl to prom, nikki had been so sick to her stomach that she missed a week of school, barely ate because of how nauseous she was, and spent nearly all of her free time either crying in bed, sulking in bed, or passed out in bed.
she wanted to scream that she was right there in front of you every time someone hurt you. she’d never treat you badly. if the universe gave her one chance, she’s sure that she could be better than anyone else that looked your way.
was that idealistic? maybe. nikki didn’t care. after years of pent-up envy, and love, and lust, all she wanted was for you to finally look at her—really look at her—and think ‘it’s you. it’s always been you.’
she wanted it so badly it made her sick. she couldn’t think about it too long, because at first it made her sad. then annoyed, then resentful because why couldn’t you see her?
and then sad all over again, because it wasn’t your fault that she was in so deep.
the one wish willow was still in her hands, waiting, mocking her, like ‘just make up your mind, already.’
fuck.
“i wish y/n l/n liked me back,” she whispered, barely above her breath. then she snapped the stick in half and waited.
waited for…something.
nothing happened.
she stared at the two broken halves, then carefully set them back on her bedside table.
well, even if nothing happened, at least she’d gotten the words out.
she slept terribly that night, and woke up with a headache. and after arriving to work, she realized that you were already there.
great. she was going to have to look you in the eyes, like she hadn’t wished upon a magic stick that you would reciprocate her feelings.
she wouldn’t admit this out loud—ever—but she sort of hoped something dramatic would happen. romantic. you confessing your undying love for her, or staring at her longingly, or outside her window at sunset with a boombox playing something stupid and cheesy like careless whisper or iris.
instead, you were busy re-stringing an acoustic guitar atop the front counter.
“hey, nikki!” you said brightly, expression pleased as she entered the store. she smiled back—couldn’t help it, she always smiled when saw you—and she shuffled into the room.
“hey,” she replied, voice weaker sounding than she would’ve liked. “you…got here early, huh?”
“just a bit,” you replied, and then returned your attention the guitar when nikki clocked in.
she spent the whole day on edge. except, nothing happened. nothing. you still smiled at her like you always did and joked with her like you always did. you left for your lunch break at twelve and came back at twelve-thirteen with two greasy, disgusting burgers that nikki and you both devoured in the break room.
by the time her shift ended, nikki was a little furious with herself. embarrassed, too, because she’d been wary at first, then gotten her hopes up, then realized how stupid was, but still had hope deep down.
there was zero hope left. the stupid stick didn’t work.
nikki clocked out and had just barely grabbed her purse and made it outside when she heard you following after her.
"hey, nikki," you said, footsteps close behind her, "what're you doing tonight?"
"uhm," she muttered, standing by the curb. she'd ordered an uber home—not because she couldn't get a ride. you always gave her one when she asked, but she wasn't sure she could handle being that close to you. "nothing. just...gonna go home and sleep, probably."
"lame," you said, a small smile on your face. though, when her back still faced you, the smile wavered and you reached out to grasp her elbow, "hey—"
nikki jerked at your touch, eyes widened in surprise, and she turned to face you then.
you let out a breathy laugh, head tilting a little. "you okay? you've been weird today."
nikki looked at you. fuck, it was so unfair. this whole thing was so unfair. how could you just stand there, looking like that, acting like that, and not expect her to lose her fucking mind?
"i'm fine," she replied faintly, "i just didn't sleep well last night. i'm tired."
"oh," you murmured, nodding in understanding. "cool. well, i just—i was asking if you were busy because...well, i was thinking you could come over. we could watch a movie, or something. i could make dinner."
that sounded suspiciously like a date. was this it? was it happening?
nikki tried not to get her hopes up.
"...yeah, i guess i could do that. what would you make?"
you thought for a second, eyes drifting away towards the parking lot. then they flicked back towards her, and you gave her a slightly sheepish smile. "frozen pizza?"
"how romantic," she said with a small smile, "you really know how to woo a girl."
"well, i could always order a pizza. i could get the breadsticks you like."
"the cheesy-garlic ones?"
"mhm."
nikki really did love those breadsticks. with a deep, heavily exaggerated sigh, she nodded. "alright, alright. you convinced me."
so, nikki canceled her uber and instead you gave her a ride back to your place.
she'd always liked your house. it was comfortable, and she'd been there so often that it was like a second home for her.
also, it smelled like you which was nice.
upon arriving to your place, you disappeared to change out of your work uniform—came back a few minutes later in a t-shirt and sweats and had a similar outfit in your hands for nikki.
she stared at them when you held them out.
it wasn't like she hadn't worn your clothes before.
still.
she took them with a little 'thanks,' disappeared into your bathroom, changed into the clothes and stared at herself in the mirror for approximately five minutes.
if she focused, she could almost imagine she was wearing your clothes because she was your girlfriend and that's just what she normally did.
it was a nice thought.
but then you knocked on your bathroom door and asked if she was okay and it startled her so badly, she had nearly run into the door trying to open it.
you'd ordered a half-meat, half-margherita pizza, the cheesy-garlic breadsticks, and a litre of soda.
"lot of food for just the two of us, isn't it?" nikki had laughed, making herself comfortable atop your couch. blankets, pillows, and the faint scent of your shampoo.
"i don't mind leftovers," you'd grinned. you found a movie nikki hadn't seen before—though, you had promised she'd like it. the lights had been turned off, leaving the room lit by only the television screen. you'd sat next to nikki, sliding beneath her blanket until the two of you were brushing thighs.
within ten minutes, nikki was pressed against you, eyes narrowed, listening to the eerie song playing in the background of the scene. "this is a horror movie."
"relax," you whispered, and nikki had the feeling that you'd be laughing at her sometime tonight. "i'll keep you safe."
her stomach flipped. she also realized then how absolutely cold the room was. so, she shuffled a little closer and your arm swung over her shoulder to pull her close.
fuck, you were so warm.
and you smelled good.
nikki couldn't help but sneak glances. at least, she tried to sneak them. every time, without fail, you'd turn to her and grin and say, "are you watching?"
the pizza had arrived at the worst possible moment. the killer lurking outside a house, provoking the main character. silent, tense, obvious enough that nikki was sure there would be a jumpscare soon.
then the doorbell rang, and nikki jerked so violently that the top of her head knocked hard against your jaw. your teeth snapped together from the force of it, and you groaned weakly in pain, laughing at the same time, and she watched you stand up from the couch with an apologetic look.
after you'd gotten the food and paid the driver, you'd plopped back onto your couch and nikki and you both had dug into it.
after not eating since your guys' lunch break, the pizza was divine.
"oh, shit, she's about to get stabbed," you laughed, pointing at the tv with one hand while the other head a breadstick.
"don't spoil it!"
half of the food was gone by the time the movie was over.
you guys weren't proud of it, but you 'd be lying if you said that it hadn't been a fun time.
nikki let out a deep huff as the credits rolled, leaning back against the couch cushions, and she glanced at you with a weary smile. "it wasn't so bad."
"you jumped, like, a million times."
"that's because i don't watch horror. im not desensitized like you, weirdo."
"weirdo?" you echoed with a little grin, one that made nikki's churn with butterflies. "not my fault you're a scaredy cat."
"am not."
you let out a bright laugh at that, eyebrows furrowing, one of your hands reaching out brush gently at her cheek. you pushed some of her hair from out of her face, nikki frozen and holding her breath beneath your touch. then your eyes met hers again, and your eyebrows raised a little. "'am not?'" you whispered, "are you five?"
nikki let out an outraged noise, reaching out to shove at your chest but it only caused you to break into a fit of laughter and giggles. she couldn't help it—she grinned at the sight, watching your hand press against your stomach from laughing, and finally she nudged you again.
"alright, relax. it wasn't that funny."
"oh man," you said weakly, taking a long moment to catch your breath. then you glanced back at her, still grinning like an idiot. your eyes flickered down and for a moment, nikki felt her heart drop because she was sure that you were looking at her lips.
"you've got a little something," you murmured, "above your lip."
oh god.
she turned her head away with a sheepish expression, reaching up to rub against her mouth with the back of her hand.
you only grinned, looking at her mouth. "it's, like, pizza sauce or something. it's right—literally right above your mouth. right there," you said, pointing a finger at what must've been pizza sauce on her face.
"oh my god," nikki groaned, feeling the beginnings of heat crawling do her neck. she rubbed again, glancing at you with an expectant look. then you laughed again and she stood up with the embarrassed, frantic rush of someone who did not want food on her face in front of her crush.
but you stood up after her, fingers looping around one of her wrists and she glanced at you from over her shoulder, eyebrows furrowed. "what?"
your hand reached up, thumb out like you were about to wipe it away. but then something flickered in your expression and instead, you leaned down.
nikki barely had time to process what was happening before your mouth was on hers, warm and soft and tasting like pepperoni.
a little gross.
but also, perfect.
nikki stood frozen for nearly ten seconds straight, which is when you finally pulled away. your lips were curled into a little smile, eyes focused on her mouth and with a little chuckle, "there. all gone."
nikki blinked at you, lips parted in shock, face undeniably burning red. she didn't say anything—could't say anything. she wasn't sure her throat worked. her tongue was heavy and her mouth was dry.
your expression faltered, head tilting a little. "did i—get that wrong?"
wrong? wrong? the only thing wrong about this was that nikki was too stunned to say, "kiss me again."
"i'm sorry," you said quickly, embarrassed. "forget about that."
"no!" she blurted out, far too loud in the empty room. then, with a clear of her throat and a little smile, she tried again. "i mean—you didn't get that...wrong. it was good. like, really good."
"oh," you said faintly, looking very much more relieved. "oh...good. i'm sorry, i shouldn't have...just done that. like, all sudden."
"it's fine," nikki replied. fine was understating it. she was pretty sure she was still in shock.
then nikki's mind flashed back to the stick. the wish. was this the wish's doing? had it actually worked?
but now, in the dimmed lighting of your living room, you were looking at her so gently. so warmly, so fond.
maybe it was just you. maybe you'd like her too, all time this, and nikki hadn't noticed because she'd been so caught up in her own feelings.
"what is it?" you whispered, soft and just between the two of you.
of course. the sixth sense of yours, that ability to decipher every little twitch of her eyebrow or tweak to her mouth.
"this is gonna sound so stupid," nikki started, pulling away from you to sit back on the couch. you followed after her automatically, sitting beside her. "i did this...thing. i bought some sort of, like, wish thing."
"a wish thing?" you echoed, smiling amusedly. she gave you a look, and you gestured for her to continue.
"it's supposed to grant your wish. it's, like, a little stick. a stick from a willow tree, i guess. and," she paused, glancing away from you to gather the courage to admit that she wished upon a stick that you would like her back.
"you don't need to tell me," you said gently to her. she shook her head then. she wanted to say it.
"i...sort've wished that you would like me. i mean, romantically."
there. it was out in the open now. it sounded insane, but it was true.
you blinked, stared at her for what felt like a thousand years but war really only a couple of seconds, and then burst into laughter.
nikki flushed immediately. "i'm being serious!" she said, but unfortunately she also began to laugh, "it's not funny."
“it’s kinda funny,” you replied, grinning, then with furrowed brows, “you wished, with a stick, that i would have feelings for you?”
“yes,” nikki sighed out. it sounded so stupid, out loud. “and, you know, i’m just curious if, like, that’s why you…kissed me.”
“that’s not at all why i kissed you,” you said, reaching out to take one of her hands in your own, “i mean, im flattered that you wasted a wish-granting stick on me. truly. nobody’s ever done anything so kind.”
nikki scowled, just a little.
“but,” you continued with a smile, hand gently squeezing hers, “i kissed you because i really wanted to kiss you. i mean, nikki. i’ve liked you for—i don't even know how long. forever. and that’s not because of some little stick. it’s because you’re my best friend. you're the best person i know.”
she watched you, searched your eyes, looked for any hint that what you’d said was a lie or actually being caused by some sort of super powerful stick.
but all she saw was you. the same eyes she’d known forever. the ones she used to fall asleep thinking about.
she didn’t say anything, just grabbed a fistful of your t-shirt and yanked you forwards. you let out a grunt, then a laugh, then gladly let nikki press her mouth to your own.
your arms slid around her waist automatically, naturally, almost instinctually, and when you both finally pulled away from each other nikki let out a shaky breath, her lips forming a tender smile.
“you know,” you said softly to her, “i probably would've kissed you sooner if you had just told me how you felt.”
nikki’s eyes squeezed shut, and she let out a soft, nervous laugh, a flustered smile on her face.
you watched her for a long moment, warm, steady, like you were trying to read every thought she wasn’t saying out loud. then you shifted a little closer, knee brushing hers, voice dropping into something quieter.
“hey,” you murmured, “look at me.”
she did, slowly, even though she wasn’t entirely sure she could handle it.
your thumb brushed her cheek again, softer this time. “i meant it,” you said. “all of it. i didn’t kiss you because of some wish. i kissed you because i’ve been wanting to for…way too long.”
nikki swallowed, her heart thudding so loudly she was sure you could hear it. “i just—i don’t want this to be some weird…fluke. or pity. or—”
“nikki.” you cut her off gently, your hand sliding down to hold hers again. “i don’t pity you. i’m not confused. i’m not doing this because you wished on a stick,” your lips twitched into a small smile. “i’m doing this because i’m crazy about you.”
her breath caught. “you are?”
“yeah,” you said, like it was the easiest truth in the world. “i always have been. i just thought you didn’t feel the same.”
nikki let out a shaky laugh, pressing her free hand to her forehead. “god, we’re idiots.”
“huge idiots,” you agreed, “but at least we’re idiots together now.”
she smiled, soft and relieved and a little disbelieving. “so…what happens now?”
you squeezed her hand. “now?” you echoed, tilting your head just enough to kiss the corner of her mouth, slow and deliberate and you relished in the way she smiled beneath your mouth. “now, i guess, i get to call you my girlfriend.”
yeah. she liked hearing you say that. “and…we keep kissing?”
“oh, absolutely,” you said, grinning. “that’s non‑negotiable.”
she laughed, and tugged you in by the front of your shirt again, kissing you properly this time. no more wondering if she was imagining it. when you pulled back, your noses brushed, your voice barely above a whisper.
“you know,” you said, “if that wish stick really worked, i owe it a thank you.”
nikki snorted. “please don’t thank the stick.”
“fine,” you teased, “i’ll thank you instead.”
“for what?”
“for finally letting me have you.”
nikki’s cheeks burned, her smile stretching helplessly wide. “yeah,” she whispered, leaning into you, “i think i’m okay with that.”
for the first time in so long, nikki finally realized that she hadn’t been alone in her feelings. you’d been right there beside her, just like always, waiting for her.
my deeply rooted hatred for bear and the fact that i'm a masculinity presenting person have all led me to your blog, lol. i have a cheeky little idea that I'm going to leave in your capable hands. nikki and the reader are the ones hooking up, and the reader is fully aware of how bear feels about nikki, so they'll go out of their way to rub it in his face, like being overly touchy with nikki when they're all out together. and nikki, who's either oblivious or just likes the attention, will just roll her eyes and playfully shove the reader away . but then later, if and when she does catch on, she’ll tease the reader for being jealous. just food for thought 🤷🏻.
noticing how bear keeps looking at nikki like he's just waiting for the right opportunity to make a move, so you make sure to drag nikki's chair closer to yours and wrap an arm over her shoulder. she's way too deep into trivia to even give a shit, but you relish the way she instinctively melts into your side. you also love how the light in bear's eyes dim.
nikki's somewhat oblivious to bear's crush, but not oblivious to your jealousy. she'll tease you for all the possessive touches and affection when you're driving her home, will make fun of you for acting like a jealous boyfriend while her lips attack your neck, her teeth creating marks on your skin.
she'll make fun of your jealousy while she's riding you into the mattress, will be saying things that make your head spin and your heart flutter while she circles her hips.
but she loves the attention she gets when you're jealous. she loves how you act in bed, pathetic and jealous, rough but gentle. she'll entertain you and give you what you want when your strap is balls deep inside of her, will moan out, "i'm yours," over and over with each sloppy stroke you give her. it brings you such joy when you watch her hobble to her front door after you drop her back off at her place, or when you notice how funny she's walking at work the next day because of you. it makes you smug when bear notices, and your chest puffs out when you overhear nikki making some excuse.
pulling nikki into your lap when you get jealous of bear trying to make a move. grabbing her waist and pulling her onto your lap after she comes back with a new drink, bear following behind because of course he volunteered to go with her. staring him directly in the eyes while your lips graze her neck, challenging him almost, daring him to say something. you know he won't. he's a pussy.
thinkinggg of bear and reader both volunteering to take nikki home That night...nikki, who loves to rile you up, accepts bear's offer first. she gives you a big, warm hug before leaving, though, which cheers you up after the disappointment. she texts you when she's back in bed and teases you for being visibly upset, reassures you that bear pussied out and denied that he even likes her.
nikki challenging reader to do something about their jealousy which ends up with her getting fucked in a dirty bar bathroom 😝 reader walking out with a smug expression, holding a wobbling nikki in their arms, plopping down next to bear and sighing with a smile..
nikki playfully shoving your hands away after you get too touchy, leaning into your body to whisper, "behave," into your ear @__@
shoving it in his face at work, making sure you and nikki get caught being entirely too touchy in the back. always coming in with nikki, brushing fingers, sometimes even holding hands. making sure he's in range when you whisper to nikki, "you still wanna come over later?"
most definitely switching name tags because she slept over at your place.... trying your HARDEST not to act so smug when bear points out that nikki's wearing your name tag.
can yall believe obsession ended with nikki running to her butches house where her butch calmed her down, believed every word that came out of her mouth, bought a one wish willow, and successfully wished all the social and legal reprocessions away with a very well-worded and carefully thought out wish???? can u believe that the last scene is them moving sarah into her new apartment close to her new music school?? can u believe they moved to the same city as sarah and sarah got a nice gf and they all have nice dinners and cute games nights and everyone is healing??? such a good movie!!!
goddd.....butch, who was broken up with after bear made the wish. maybe your relationship with nikki wasn't out there and obvious, or maybe bear just didn't care and made the wish either way because he's a loser. either way, nikki broke up with you. butch watching nikki look "happier" with bear but still having a gut feeling that something is wrong, because all you can think about are those times you joked about bear having a crush on her, and nikki responding with "ugh, don't even joke about that. he's like a brother to me."
something along those lines!
butch, who's woken up in the middle of the night by a loud banging on their front door. groggily shuffling to the door, heart rate picking up when you hear the unmistakable sound of nikki's shaky voice yelling for you. your stomach drops when you open the door and see nikki covered in blood, eyes bloodshot and red and filled with tears. she jumps into your arms, body shaking so much as you hold her and try to calm her down. she's babbling incoherently, hands clenching your arms in a bruising grip as you stroke the side of her face and ask her what happened.
butch, who listens to nikki and believes every word that comes tumbling past her lips as they clean her up and help her into their clothes. kissing over the gauze you put on her forehead, holding her shaking body as she slips into your boxers, kissing her lips and over and over because she needs to know that this is real and that she's in her body :(
butch, who either drives to the store in the middle of the night, or first thing in the morning to reverse bear's bullshit.
butch, who asks nikki repeatedly what they should wish for because she's good with words >__< practicing their wish before actually breaking the piece, making sure it's nikki approved.
in a perfect world, nikki makes her butch help sarah move all her things in and out of her apartment ❤️ butch, who's the driver while sarah and nikki gossip in the back. nikki, who looks all pretty and ogles and whistles at her butch while they carry heavy boxers into sarah's new apartment.
butch, nikki, and sarah going out for drinks to celebrate the move <3 butch, who carries a drunk sarah back to the car, who makes sure she gets into bed safely before crashing in the living room with nikki <3
moving into an apartment with nikki that's near where sarah is, surprising nikki with a new typewriter that you leave in her room while you continue unpacking :( it takes you much longer to unpack because she bombarded you with needy kisses after finding it.
nikki and her butch playing wingman for sarah, gossiping about failed hookups whenever sarah comes over for weekly board game night.
nikki and her butch showing up to double dates a little late because they got carried away...nikki's lip gloss is visible on your lips and neck, and your tie is all wonky.
butch, who stands up like a complete dork and blushes when nikki enters the restaurant with sarah and her gf, fumbling to pull out her chair because she's just so pretty >_<
in the perfect world pt 2, nikki pocketed some of ian's money and her butch helped her start up her career as a writer! being her publicist in a way, always emailing publishing companies about her work, trying to get bookstores to sell her new book :3
a/n: random burst of inspo last night. just needed to get it all out because i need to comfort nikki
‼️SPOILERS FOR THE ENDING ‼️
"Holy fuck," you mumble under your breath.
You glance at Ian's body on the floor, with a gunshot wound to his forehead. You feel nauseous. Looking at Nikki, you see Bear lying on her lap, eyes wide open, but no light shining through. You walk further into the house, and your throat dries up at the sight of what you think is Sarah's naked body in a chair. Her face is completely mangled. Unidentified if it weren't for the tattoo on her chest. The same tattoo you saw on Nikki’s chest when you walked in.
Your mouth starts to water, and bile rises in your throat. You swallow it down as best as you can.
"Nikki," you call out weakly.
She's shaking like a leaf on the couch, lips quivering as sobs come tumbling out of her throat.
"Nikki, hey, look at me."
Slowly, you walk up to her, tentatively holding out your hand for her. You need to get her away. Take her somewhere safe. That’s all that’s going through your mind.
She looks up at you, and a painful cry leaves her lips.
"Not me," she wails.
Nikki wiggles Bear off her lap, and his limp body thuds to the ground, his head rolling near your feet.
She steps over his corpse and throws herself into your arms, crying hysterically into your chest.
"It wasn't me. It wasn't me."
You rub her back and hold her tightly. She's shaking so bad it feels like an earthquake is happening.
"I got you, Nik. You're safe now."
Your lips taste copper on her forehead, and for your own sake, you choose to believe it's hers instead of Sarah's or Ian's.
You peel her off as far as you can and look into her bloodshot eyes. "C'mon, we need to leave." You glance around the room again, and your stomach churns as you look at the dead bodies of your friends. "I'll take you back to my place. Get you cleaned up. Then we'll figure something out."
"I'm gonna be in prison for the rest of my life," Nikki blurts out, shaking her head as hot tears trail down her cheeks.
The realization of it—of everything—makes her feel queasy. She feels like projectile vomiting everywhere.
"No, I won't let that happen. I promise."
You take her hand in yours and squeeze it reassuringly, slowly leading her out of the house and to your car.
The car ride is quiet, except for the occasional sob that leaves Nikki’s body. She’s clinging to your arm so tightly that you’re sure it’ll be bruised tomorrow. You think it’s even bleeding.
When you arrive at your place, you take her straight to the bathroom. She stands in the middle of it, still shaking, snot and blood all over her chin. You tell her that you’re gonna get her some clothes, but you don’t think she can hear you. Grabbing an old t-shirt and your boxers, you place them on the sink counter for her, along with a towel.
“Do you…need help?”
Nikki shakes her head while hugging herself.
You nod understandingly. “Okay. I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”
+
this is where my writing skills leave me and my head starts to go blank but thinking about patching nikki up when she comes out of the shower. offering to take her to urgent care to get it assessed because it’s a deep gash, but she refuses. so you just use whatever you have available and fix her up. thinking about her sharp inhales and the way her lips would quiver as you gently clean up the wound.
thinking about cuddling with her in bed afterwards, holding her so tightly, whispering comforting words into her ear. talking about your plan to keep her safe, suggesting that you both pack and leave town, try to find somewhere to lie low for a bit. you just need her safe. that’s all you want. you could crash at motels, and nikki could start writing again. you can get a job and save up enough money to get an apartment, and you two could live together like you both used to talk about during those secret hookups.
Just wanted to say that Pride and Bloom is such a great idea and is so important at times like this!
If it’s okay to request like soft morning sesbian lex with Abby and maybe it’s like the first day of pride month and are just enjoying the quiet peace of pride and being each others safe place. Sorry I’m not sure if it really fits with the pride theme but I think having quiet moments that we get to enjoy with our partners is a freedom that I will never take for granted! I hope you are having a good pride and just wanted to say thank you for doing something like this it’s really important 💗
HAPPY PRIDE | pride & bloom collection
i have to say i feel so honored cause this is just too sweet 🥹 definitely, pride is all about living authentically, and that includes those quiet and peaceful moments of our everyday life too!
ur absolutely right, finding that special person that you can call home and enjoying their company is so important, too ❤️🩹 thank you for your kind words and for this request!! i loved it so so so much, i hope you do too <333
+18, mdni. 1.4k words. soft morning sex with abby. fingering (r!receiving), oral (both receiving), scissoring. so much loving with these two i'm sensitive now
Warmth brushes across your cheek before you’re fully awake. It slips into your dreams, a soft pressure against your cheek. A kiss. Another follows moments later, landing near the corner of your mouth before drifting up to your cheekbone.
Your eyes flutter open just as Abby presses another kiss lands on the tip of your nose. A giggle bubbles up from your chest before you’re even fully conscious.
“Good morning,” Abby’s voice is rough with sleep, and she’s hovering over you.
The early sunlight catches in her blonde her, turning loose strands almost gold. Her face is impossibly close, blue eyes soft and completely unguarded.
“No,” you mumble, a smile pulling at your lips as you look at her with heavy-lidded eyes.
“No?”
“Nope.”
You shut your eyes close immediately, and a laugh escapes her. She rewards your stubbornness with another kiss right on the center of your forehead.
“Happy Pride.”
A smile spreads across your face instantly, blinking your eyes open again. She’s propped against her elbow, looking at you like you’re the sunrise itself.
“Happy Pride,” you murmur back, and then she’s kissing you on the lips this time. It’s sweet and unhurried; just the two enjoying the quiet morning together.
You kiss her back, your hand coming up to her neck and feeling the gentle pulse beneath your fingers. She deepens the kiss, and suddenly it’s not lazy anymore. One of her hands finds your waist, fingers caressing your skin and pulling you closer.
Abby breaks the kiss just barely, panting slightly, and then she’s moving. Her lips trail down your jawline to your neck, and you tilt your head back, letting her have access to all of you. Her hand slides down your side, tracing the curve of your waist. Her fingers brush the underside of your breast, and you shiver at the touch.
“May I?” she asks, though she’s already moving, already cupping your breast in her palm.
The sensation makes your breath catch, back arching slightly into her touch. Her thumb brushes across your nipple, and your gasp is drowned by her kissing you again. Her other hand trails down your stomach, over your hipbone and then she’s cupping your core over your underwear.
She’s applying gentle pressure, just massaging you, but you’re already pressing your hips up into her touch. You want more, you need more.
“Abby, please,” you whimper.
“Let me enjoy you first,” there’s no real resistance in her voice, and you can feel her smile against your neck. She’s already sliding her hand beneath the waistband of your underwear, breath catching as she can feel how soaked you are. “God, you’re so wet for me already.”
Her fingers enter you, sliding inside your folds slowly, and a gasp escapes your throat. Your hands clutch at her shoulders, your hips rocking against her hand as she curls her fingers, hitting that spot that makes you see stars.
“That’s it, baby,” she whispers against your ear. “Come for me, please.”
Her fingers pump inside you, her thumb brushing your clit, and it doesn’t take long for Abby to tip you over the edge. The orgasm rolls through you, and you bury your face in her neck, biting down gently on her shoulder to muffle the sounds you’re making.
You feel her move down your body, kissing a path between your breasts and across your stomach. Suddenly, she’s pulling your underwear down and tossing it somewhere on the floor.
You arch off the bed with a gasp as Abby wraps her lips around your clit. “A-Abby—”
Her tongue is working magic, licking and sucking, while her hands grip your thighs tightly, keeping you open for her. Your hands find their way into her hair, pulling gently as pleasure builds all over again. She moans at the sensation, the vibration sending a new jolt through you, and within minutes you’re hitting another peak, your hips rocking against her face as you come with a broken cry.
Abby doesn’t stop immediately. She just slows down, lapping at your pussy and drawing out the sensation until you’re pulling her up by her hair, oversensitive but still buzzing with need.
“Wait, please, please,” you gasp out. “I want to make you feel good, too.”
She lets you maneuver her onto her back, an eager smile plastered on her lips. You straddle her lap and lean down to kiss her so deep you can taste yourself on her lips beroe you start trailing down. Your lips trace her jawline, the sensitive spot beneath her ear, and she’s sighing your name.
You kiss your way down her neck, her collarbone, and keep going lower and lower until you’re kissing the swell of her breast, taking her nipple into your mouth and sucking gently.
“Fuck,” she lets out a low moan, hands pulling you even closer.
You move lower, kissing the dip of her ribs, the softness of her belly, and you can feel her anticipation in the way her breathing changes. When you reach her core, you hum in satisfaction at the sight: she’s already so wet, already so ready for you. You don’t wait a second longer, pressing your tongue flat against her clit, and she bucks off the bed slightly.
“Oh God—” she gasps, her hands gripping the sheets.
You work her exactly the way you know she likes, following every cue her body is giving you— every sound she makes, every twitch of her hips, the way her breathing becomes more ragged.
“Baby, baby,” Abby whines, mustering enough strength to prop herself up by her elbows. “Please, I need you.”
And you know exactly what that means.
Your tongue gives her clit a final lap before you pull back slightly. The two of you start shifting together until your legs are intertwined, your core pressed against hers. One of her hands sneaks up to grab your ass, fingernails digging into your skin, and you throw your head backwards in pleasure.
The sensation is incredible. Her wetness against yours, the friction building with each rock of your hips, the way she’s moaning your name. She’s getting closer, you can feel it in the way her hands tense up against your skin and the way her breath hitches.
You keep the same steady rhythm, letting the pleasure build, and suddenly she’s coming, her whole body trembling as the orgasm washes over her. The sight is enough to send you over the edge moments later.
You collapse against her, both of you breathing hard, tangled together in the sheets. The morning light is fully golden now, spilling across your intertwined bodies.
“Happy Pride,” she repeats her earlier greeting and presses a kiss to the top of your head.
You let out a chuckle. “Happy Pride.”
Outside, you can hear the hum of the city coming alive, the distant sounds of people moving around, and the occasional honk. But here, in this bed, there’s only the soft sound of your breathing and hers slowly evening out.
“We should probably get up soon,” Abby murmurs against your hair, but she makes no move to actually leave. Instead, her arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer.
“Mmm, five more minutes,” you protest.
She shifts slightly, just enough to look down at you, and your breath catches as you take a good look at her. Her blonde hair is a complete mess, her lips are swollen and pink from all the kissing, and her eyes are gazing at you with so much love and tenderness you might actually melt.
“Come on,” she says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s shower and get ready.”
You groan but let her pull you up. The sheets stick to your skin slightly and you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror across the room— kiss marks on your neck, messy hair, that unmistakable glow.
Standing there and looking at the evidence of your love written across your skin, at Abby practically skipping as she heads toward the bathroom, at the way she glances back at you with that loving smile, it hits you.
This is what it’s all about— waking up to someone who loves you, being able to kiss her without fear, to exist in this space where you’re completely safe. It’s the freedom to love her openly, proudly, without apology, especially in these quiet moments where you have each other all to yourselves.
Once you’re both under the spray of hot water, you pull her close enough to kiss her again. Soft, slow and full of everything you feel.
“I love you,” you whisper against her lips.
A grin takes over her face, her hands cupping your cheeks as she looks straight into your eyes. “I love you.”
ambessa who genuinely cannot keep her hands off you once she realizes how filthy your sex drive actually is. the second she notices the way you start rubbing your thighs together whenever she enters a room, or how your eyes immediately drop to her hands and thighs while she talks, she becomes addicted to keeping you worked up. she’d start treating your body like something permanently meant to be needy for her.
ambessa who loves sitting back in a chair with her legs spread while you kneel between them completely desperate for her pussy, kissing slowly up the inside of her thick thighs while your hands grip at her hips. she’d make you wait on purpose too, fingers tangled lazily in your hair while you whine against her skin. “look at you,” she’d murmur darkly, watching you practically drool for her. “always starving for me.”
ambessa who absolutely ruins you with toys because she loves watching how quickly they make you lose composure. she’d pin you against her chest with one arm while holding a vibrator firmly against your clit, keeping it there until your legs shake uncontrollably. meanwhile she’d stay perfectly calm, talking in that deep steady voice while you sob against her shoulder from how sensitive you’ve become.
ambessa who keeps multiple straps because she knows one size or shape never satisfies you for long. she’d spread you open with her fingers first, forcing you to take them while she listens to every wet sound your cunt makes around her hand. then she’d slide the strap into you slowly just to feel you clench desperately around it before eventually fucking you hard enough to leave bruises blooming along your hips from how rough her grip gets.
ambessa who absolutely loves when you grind on her thigh because she can physically feel how soaked you are through your panties. she’d sit there with one large hand gripping your waist while you ride her muscular thigh desperately, whining every time the fabric catches against your clit just right. meanwhile she’s smirking up at you like she could watch this forever.
ambessa who secretly records videos of you grinding on her thigh because she loves having proof of how pathetic you get for her. she’d hold her phone low enough to capture the way your hips stutter and shake while you ride against her leg, panties soaked and sticking to your cunt while you whimper her name. every shaky moan and desperate little gasp gets recorded while ambessa calmly praises you for “making such pretty noises.”
ambessa who makes you send her filthy videos whenever she’s away for too long because she knows you can never behave while she’s gone. you’d end up spread out on the bed with your fingers buried inside yourself, filming the slick mess between your thighs while whining about how badly you miss her. ambessa would replay them constantly while away, especially the ones where you cry after cumming because you still aren’t satisfied.
ambessa who sends voice notes back telling you exactly how to touch yourself for her. slow, deep commands in that rough voice while you lay there completely soaked listening obediently. she’d make you keep your legs spread open while you rub your clit exactly the way she instructed, praising you softly whenever you start moaning loud enough for the microphone to catch it.
ambessa who absolutely uses discreet toys on you in public because she loves seeing how long you can hold yourself together before breaking. she’d keep one hand around your waist at crowded events while secretly controlling the vibrations between your thighs, watching your breathing become uneven while other people continue speaking to you completely unaware. the second your knees nearly buckle she’d lean closer with a satisfied grin. “stay still.”
ambessa who loves forcing you to ride her face after she’s had a stressful day because she enjoys how greedy you become once she starts licking into you properly. your thighs would already be trembling around her head while her hands keep you spread open for her mouth, tongue dragging slowly through your cunt while she groans against you at the taste.
ambessa who enjoys overstimulating you because your body gets impossibly sensitive after the first orgasm. she’d hold your thighs apart while your cunt keeps clenching helplessly around her fingers or strap, tears gathering in your eyes while she keeps touching you through every shaky aftershock. every desperate cry only makes her more relentless.
ambessa who gets unbelievably turned on seeing your lipstick smeared after she’s spent an hour kissing and sucking bruises into your inner thighs and chest. she’d pull you in front of a mirror afterward just to make you look at yourself while her fingers slide slowly back inside you again. she loves watching your expression crumble the second you realize she isn’t finished with you yet.
ambessa who secretly loves how insatiable you are because it means she never has to question how badly you want her. even after she’s fucked you dumb with toys, fingers, her mouth and her thigh, you’re still climbing back into her lap trying to grind against her again. and that completely destroys her self control every single time.
some more lengthy headcanons cuz im tired of people mischaracterizing my wife🙄
these are so fun. reminder to drop into my asks if you have more ideas you want to see! :)
𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼
A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)
- even in an established relationship, it’ll take Abby a minute to start being physically affectionate. it’s just not really her thing.
- when she does, it’s not over-the-top. kisses to the top of your head, fingers brushing yours when she needs comfort, or a steady hand on your back when you need it. sometimes, if you’re feeling sore from patrol, she’ll offer to massage your stiff muscles, and you’ll beg to return the favor.
- but she prefers to show affection through action and quality time. organizing your stuff when you’re having a particularly scatterbrained day, or taking you aside for a heartfelt conversation when she sees you’re having a hard time. that’s how you know she cares.
B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)
- omg. she’d be the best as a close friend, but maybe not always in the most conventional of ways.
- we’ve seen a bit of it in canon. she has a tough-love, sarcastic way of interacting with her friends, but there’s still no doubt that she cares fiercely for them.
- as a best friend, i think she’d soften up just a bit. her words would be more straightforward and encouraging towards you, and the teasing would still be there, but less overt. arguably, Owen kind of became her best friend once they broke up, even if it was deeply complicated. so it wouldn’t be too dissimilar from that dynamic.
- she’s extremely protective and even reckless when it comes to her friends. i can see her giving Isaac hell for sending you on tougher missions, or chastising you for being underprepared when things go wrong. next time, she’s making sure you have exactly what you need.
- she’s definitely one of those people who, before you become friends, you 100% think she hates you. in reality, she suffers from a severe case of RBF and is just naturally intimidating. her stand-offish nature towards you is a defense mechanism, yes, but also just her determining whether or not she can trust you. ultimately, you know you’re in with her when she starts poking fun at you, tone wry and not at all cruel.
C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)
- contrary to my affection headcanons, i do think she likes to cuddle a bit, but only once you’ve been together for a while. once she knows that you’re definitely her safe space.
- on the milder side (especially when there’s other people around) her version of cuddling might be an arm around your shoulder or your waist. when it’s just the two of you, it’s different.
- a lot of people headcanon her as this like dommy mommy everyone alright here ladies? kinda type, but girl is a SOFTIE. pathetic, even. her cuddling style mirrors this.
- cuddling in bed, for example, often looks like you underneath her, practically smothered by her weight as she lays against your chest or stomach like a begrudging stray cat. she’ll have her arms wrapped around you firmly, downright refusing to let you get up even when your legs start to fall asleep.
- other times, when you’re the one seeking physical comfort, she’ll let you lay your head on her lap. she’ll gently rub a hand across your back, maybe using the other to brush your hair away from your face. again, she’s not the most physically affectionate and won’t seek it out too often, but she’ll still let you have whatever you need from her.
D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)
- this one is complicated, given TLOU’s apocalyptic setting.
- if things could be calm enough for you guys to “settle down”—whatever that looks like when infected are running rampant— i think she’d definitely want that. i think her desire for family in any form is evident in the way she took Lev in so quickly, especially after everything she’s lost.
- it would be no farmhouse, though. i think her form of settling down would be more dynamic: moving from place to place, never quite content with her surroundings or feeling secure enough. to no fault of your own, she’s just a bit paranoid, but who can blame her?
- on the daily, she’s pretty diligent with chores and stuff. her military background has made her by default very disciplined and pragmatic about assigning responsibilities around the living space.
- ultimately, though, for you she’s a bit of a pushover, and these rules could possibly be bent in your favor. you’re especially squeamish about bathroom or trash-related stuff? consider it done for you. but not without some compensation to make it even. ;)
- cooking, though? girl is GARBAGE at it. a lot of that stuff requires patience that she doesn’t have. when things burn or end up tasting like shit, she gets frustrated and gives up easily. in the name of being useful, though, she’ll offer to help prep stuff. chopping vegetables or catching fish/hunting. after that, it’s in your hands.
E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)
- this one is tough too. we know in canon that she and Owen broke up at some point, but we don’t know exactly how it happened. so there isn’t much to go off of, but i’ll make an educated guess.
- she can be quite impulsive and emotionally-driven, so i can imagine that she’d bring it up as soon as she thinks it’s over. probably during a heated argument, clear-cut and leaving no room for misunderstanding. We should stop. It’s not working out anymore, us.
- after that, it’ll be hard for her to elaborate much, even if you deserve a thorough explanation. it’s just too painful for her, and she’d rather get it over and done with.
- unfortunately, i don’t see her having too much tact with it, especially if it’s due to intense feelings/ specific events that triggered it.
F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)
- imo she’s no player, but a lot of people interpret her that way. she’s a sap at heart, and i think a part of her holds on to the idea of devoting herself to someone exclusively. even if she would take short-term satisfaction in flings and stuff and claim that commitment was performative.
- in an ideal, infected-less world, i can maybe see her wanting to get married.
- that being said, i think the actual act of getting married would maybe take a bit of convincing on your part. idk, i feel like she would find it embarrassing, lol.
- i don’t think she’d feel like a certificate is required to prove that she loves you, and that simply being with you is enough for her. but if you really wanted it, she’d do it. after at least a couple years of being together.
G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)
- maybe this is a cop-out answer, but it depends.
- we obviously know that she can be pretty aggressive physically, as is required for someone to be as good of a soldier as she is. this definitely extends a bit into her everyday life, with her anger issues being pretty prevalent. but i can’t blame her, after everything she’s gone through and the world she’s grown-up in.
- emotionally, it’s not too different. she doesn’t mince words, and can let her anger shine through them to a fault. at the end of the day, though, she can keep it under control if she really wants to.
- if she’s with someone she loves, she definitely softens in every sense and becomes more aware of her impact. even if sometimes she fucks up and does too much.
- after being given the chance to heal with you, more time and distance put between her and the events of Seattle + the Firefly hospital, she’ll be very gentle. More relaxed, now that her main motivation for rage has dissipated. it all just depends on the point of the story we’re talking about, tbh, because she had some crazy character development!
H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)
- she could take or leave them. the closest she gets to frequent hugging is a brief dap-up or side hug for her friends, as a way of greeting or goodbye.
- again, she’s not overtly affectionate, so she honestly just doesn’t think to initiate them.
- if you’re a hugger, she’ll protest at first, playfully pushing you away or turning to dodge them at the last second.
- but if she likes you enough, and you’re persistent or just needing comfort, it’s doable. when she hugs you, it’s hilariously stiff, but it’s undeniable that they’re still comforting. i mean, come on, just look at those muscles! it’s hard to feel uncomfortable when she envelopes you like that.
I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)
- ohhh man. love her but i think it would take a ridiculous amount of time for her to say it outright.
- she’d frequently and quickly say many other things adjacent to it. Maybe, I care about you, or even, You’re everything to me, but saying the L-word feels a lot heavier for her.
- it’s a risk, to admit that she loves you. if she admits it, then who knows what might happen? look at the fate of the people she loves and tell me she wouldn’t be terrified to say it.
- when she eventually does, it’s random, fleeting, and probably whispered. if you didn’t hear it the first time, she’ll try again another day. maybe.
J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)
- giggling rn. because hell yeah, she gets jealous.
- BUT! again, it’s not in the way everyone likes to say. girl is not some fucking mafia boss booktok love interest who rages at anyone who blinks at you too flirtatiously. nah.
- it honestly doesn’t take much to make her jealous, but she won’t make a big deal out of it unless it’s plain disrespectful.
- if she sees that someone clearly likes you, she’ll make some sardonic comment under her breath. something relatively harmless or playful like They sure are perky. After a few of these instances, she’ll just outright say it. They have the hots for you, Y/N. It’s obvious. Clipped words, maybe a dry laugh, tone bordering on annoyed, but not obviously so.
- When she’s really jealous, it will be hard not to notice, particularly because of her facial expressions. She’ll roll her eyes, pouty lips curling into a sneer or a scoff.
-Sass master. No ability to hide what she’s thinking past a certain threshold. But not much threatens her, so she’ll hear what you have to say about it first without getting too worked up.
K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)
- 🤭ok, this is labeled SFW so i’ll try to keep it PG, unless the masses (all 9 of my followers, hey girl hey!) want a NSFW version.
- it should come as no surprise that when she kisses you, there’s no hesitation. no awkwardness. she’s by nature a very confident person, which would show in the way she conducts intimacy with someone she’s comfortable with.
- they’re often firm and a bit aggressive, but this can devolve very easily into tenderness, especially in moments of emotional vulnerability.
- her favorite places to kiss you (again, struggling to remain SFW here) tend to be the top of your head, your temple, the corner of your mouth (as a tease), and your hands, weirdly enough. in spicier contexts, she might also want to kiss your sternum or the insides of your knees. i’ll leave it there for now!
- she likes it when you kiss her anywhere, but her favorite places are her shoulders, the tip of her nose (when you’re feeling like a sap), her forehead, and of course, her neck. for…reasons i will not elaborate on here.
L = Little ones (How are they around children?)
- luckily, here we have some canon context with Lev. generally, she doesn’t mind older kids (i.e., ~11-17 maybe), and gets along with them pretty well.
- she finds it funny to try and figure out what’s going on in their heads; maybe to make them laugh or just out of curiosity. it doesn’t always work, and she’s not very subtle in trying to get people in general to open-up, but that’s neither here nor there.
- younger kids and babies? she’s annoyed by them, for the most part. not aggressively so, but she doesn’t love to be around young kids that are messy or loud (which is like 90% of them). but i feel like they would love her, much to her chagrin.
M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)
- i’ll answer this under TLOU-canon guidelines, because i find that most interesting. modern AUs are cool and all, but i love this game specifically for a reason!
- pre-seattle, at the WLF stadium, she’ll wake you up pretty early most mornings whether you protest or not. she’s a morning person, whether it’s to work-out at the gym, go on a run, or maybe read a book in her bunk. if you’re game to do this with her, all the better.
- if you’re not a morning person, she’ll bring you coffee and pretend to complain about the long line at the mess hall. in reality, she doesn’t mind. but don’t get it twisted— you’re getting out of bed eventually, one way or another!
- post-seattle, in Santa Barbara, she’ll be a bit more lax about when she gets up for the day. she’ll still be awake pretty early, but might feel more okay about taking it easy while the sun still rises.
- she loves to sit on the bow of the boat with you, the quiet peace of the early morning combined with your soft chatter a welcome ambience. a swim in the ocean to start to day is usually a safe bet, too.
N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)
- it’s not too different from your mornings with her. being a morning person, she usually tries to go to bed at a reasonable hour. this means that any night activities are usually pretty relaxed (for the most part).
- again, she’s a book nerd, so she loves to read whenever she gets the down time. sometimes she’ll have you read to her, if you’re willing, any excuse to have you near her.
- most nights, though, it’s a lot of menial tasks. pre-seattle, it’s more working out, cleaning guns, planning for patrols, etc. post-seattle, it’s preparing hunting/fishing stuff for the next day, checking her map to determine the next stop, all that jazz. you usually help her with all this stuff, if you have nothing else to do.
O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)
- she’ll drop little bits and pieces once you become kinda close. maybe light stuff about her dad, or those coins she collects, or funny stories about her friends. with the more surface-level stuff, she’s pretty casual about it, and it’s spread out quite a bit.
- with deeper details, like her biggest fears, insecurities, or major points of trauma, those will be spilled all at once. definitely not right away, but once she understands that she can trust you, it’s hard for her to stop. like she’s confessing, almost. she finds it embarrassing; you find it endearing.
P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)
- kind of easily, lol. she’s never been all that great at keeping her anger hidden, and once the fuse is lit, it’s hard to put it out.
- i think because of all the trauma she’s endured, she’s not broken easily, but it’s easy for her to get frustrated at small things. when her gun jams, she curses loudly. when the rabbit traps are empty, she kicks them over with a grunt.
- but it’s not usually from a place of pure rage, unlike characters like Ellie (no hate to my girl). her anger comes from a deep sadness and disappointment. when her emotions build up, she doesn’t know where to put that energy, and it often manifests as outward anger.
- with you, though, she does her absolute best to keep a leash on it, especially if you’re sensitive. nothing you ever do makes her truly that mad, anyway. even when you tease her to get a reaction on slow days.
Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)
- for better or for worse, abby has a memory like a steel trap. (is that a phrase? idk.) anyway, she’s usually very good at remembering things about you.
- let’s say one morning she brings you a blueberry muffin from the mess hall. when you decline it, saying blueberries aren’t your favorite, she acts annoyed, but logs it away. chocolate chip muffins only from now on. got it.
- funnily enough, sometimes though it’s the bigger things she forgets. did you say you had a sibling? was it a brother or a sister? but she does know that they broke your tooth pillow fighting when you were kids.
- because she’s not very physically affectionate, she does her best to make up for it in other ways. hence, she’s a great listener, and sometimes knows you better than you know yourself.
R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)
- the stuff she remembers the most is when you make her laugh, whether on purpose or just by being you. a sense of humor is something i think she’d especially appreciate in a partner.
- silly answer? she loves to bring up that one time you got so excited to see Alice after patrol that you slipped on a wet patch of grass and ate shit. in front of, like, 20 WLF soldiers. her ribs hurt just thinking about it.
- serious answer? when you made her feel seen for the first time. when the events of Jackson went down, and even before then, even her closest friends had trouble fully understanding her motivations to seek revenge. sure, they went with her, and sure, they happily dealt their dosage of revenge on Joel and Tommy themselves, but she always felt like they saw her differently after. maybe flinched too hard at her movements or started to openly question her judgement. and maybe that wasn’t entirely their faults, because what happened that day was harrowing for everyone involved.
- but you were better at hiding whatever change you felt towards her. in truth, you were probably the only one who had complete faith in her decisions, and you knew that maybe it made you a bad person. but you didn’t care. you told her that one day, when she opened up about her guilt. that you understood why she had to do it, and would continue to stand by her despite it all. in this new world, it wasn’t as simple as right and wrong.
- she never forgot that.
S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)
- abby is very protective of you. hell, she’s protective of everyone she cares about. in the world you live in, it’s hard not to be.
- that being said, she still trusts you. still believes you when you insist that you’re fine; that you’re capable. but it doesn’t stop her from acting on her instincts.
- around infected, she’s not extremely worried. you’re experienced enough to know how to handle those kinds of situations. she might keep a closer eye on you than the other soldiers, and might triple-check that your gun is loaded or subtly scan your limbs for bites every couple minutes. just in case.
- it’s the non-infected that scare her the most. seraphites, smugglers, raiders, hostile WLF and rattlers post-Seattle. she knows better than anyone else how cruel humans can be to one another. in these situations, she’s far more vigilant. she’ll frequently bark orders at you out of fear, shield you from stray bullets, and insist on taking point on 99% of patrols.
- in non-violent interactions, she’s quick to defend you to others. confrontation is easy for her, especially concerning you. it’s not smart to talk shit about the people she loves, that’s for sure.
- she insists she doesn’t need to be protected. how could she, when she’s built like a tank and has the military training to keep you both safe? but she secretly loves watching you decimate infected that get too close to her, and feels nothing but pride when you stand up for her in equal measure.
T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)
- i think at first, she’d struggle a bit with this, fearing that it would be too much or too vulnerable. she’s not really used to receiving that kind of love, so it doesn’t occur to her to give it initially.
- eventually, though, after seeing the way your face lights up at the little things, this would change.
- maybe she’d pick a flower or two that she finds out exploring and leave it on your bed. on days when you have alone time, she feels a lot of pressure for things to go right.
- but again, because she just naturally has a good memory, it’s not hard for her to show that she cares, necessarily. it’s more so the grand gestures and stereotypical dating stuff that she has to practice.
- once she gets in the flow of it, she’s a master gift-giver. it comes with the territory of knowing everything about you. anniversaries are sweet and simple, a bigger focus on your time together rather than material possessions and mood setting.
U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)
- Abby is deeply flawed, like most people, even if she has good intentions. a few things come to mind:
- her anger. sometimes her words can sting, and she speaks before thinking quite a lot. it’s also hard for her to monitor her tone, so she can come across as hotheaded and mean.
- her avoidant attachment style. sometimes it’s hard for her to let people get really close, so she often inadvertently sabotages relationships by inventing conflict or going cold. in reality, it comes from a place of insecurity. she never feels good enough for her partner.
- emotional unavailability. despite the fact that she is an emotional person and feels things very deeply, it’s hard for her to share that openly with others without feeling humiliated. sometimes when you try to have heartfelt conversations with her, she doesn’t take it completely seriously and/or is a bit dismissive.
- she’s doing her best to heal little by little, but being with her will probably require plenty of patience and grace some days.
- such is the way with deeply traumatized characters! but we love her anyway <3
V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)
- the automatic assumption i think with masculine women is that they don’t care about their appearance as much as feminine women, but this is simply not the case.
- abby takes care of herself, and wants that reflected in how she looks to some capacity. she’s very intentional with the way she braids her hair every day, frustrated if it comes out wonky or unkempt.
- but she won’t fuss in a mirror for hours on end or anything, and honestly barely looks in them. there are far more important things to worry about. splotches of blood and dirt on her face don’t bother her, and she doesn’t give a single fuck about being hairless as a beauty standard.
- and sure, having muscles definitely makes her feel more attractive, and she works on her body quite a bit, but it’s less for aesthetic purposes and more for security and a sense of routine.
- ultimately, she has insecurities like everyone else, but doesn’t give them much thought. she likes how she looks, and that’s pretty much that.
W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)
- maybe at first. i think a break-up or your death would destroy her initially, but her sense of independence wouldn’t really be affected.
- like i said, she’s a confident person, so the lack of a partner doesn’t especially bother her. not to say she wouldn’t miss you, but she’s pretty tough. there isn’t much else to say on that, i think.
X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)
- this isn’t really a unique idea, and is basically confirmed in canon, but Abby is SUPER competitive. like, sometimes annoyingly so.
- she won’t necessarily initiate competitions a lot, but if there’s a challenge presented to her, she has to be the one winning. and if there can’t be a winner with something, she’ll change that.
- be grateful that board games aren’t easily accessible in the apocalypse, because those nights would be hell. she’s definitely flipping the Monopoly board every time she goes to jail. sore loser!! when she wins, she’s a gloater.
- it’s definitely in poor taste, but you love her for it anyway.
Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)
- in general, TLOU universe: hot weather (santa barbara was definitely on her shit list many days), cowards and selfish people, bananas (i can’t explain that one, just trust me), cats (as a cat lover, this kills me, but i think she would find them stuck-up😭), mattresses that are too soft, people who watch the movie version of a book and refuse to read the source material.
- in general, modern-day hunches (to be silly): flying on airplanes (“Why would something ever need to go that high?!”), rollercoasters (see previous), The Kardashians and reality TV as a whole (definitely not projecting here), gym bros who abuse steroids (“Lazy asses.”), social media (until it comes to tracking gym progress).
- in a partner: someone who takes everything too seriously, is habitually very loud, is extremely clingy/needy, is passive-aggressive, or is needlessly cruel.
Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)
- i can 100% see her being a sleep-talker. will wake you up most nights mumbling nonsense and then will claim to not remember any of it the next morning.
- BLANKET HOGGER! good luck wrestling that away from her.
- drools. disgusts herself with it.
- will accidentally roll over on top of you in the middle of the night. goodbye bones <3
- light sleeper. every little thing will wake her up, and she WILL complain out loud each time.
That’s all! Phew, that was a long one. If you made it this far, you’re a real one and might actually be as obsessed with her as I am. As always, lmk how you liked it and if a NSFW version of this is something you’d want to see! ok byee 🧚🏻♀️
synopsis: you know better than to get distracted while out on patrol... that doesn't stop either of you though.
content warnings: protective!abby, smut! minors i beg dni, abby anderson x reader, lots of sexual tension, mutual pining, making out obvi, canon universe, patrol setting, they doin' it on a dirty couch, lets go lesbians, female anatomy, r!recieving
The building smells faintly of damp wood and something older, something that’s settled into the walls and never left. Abby pushes the door open with her shoulder and steps through first, rifle raised just enough to be ready without wasting energy. You follow close behind, your eyes moving where hers already has, catching the same corners a second too late to feel useful.
You’ve been on enough patrols to recognize the difference between danger and stillness. This is the latter. And yet, walking behind her, it doesn’t feel entirely benign.
Not that it ever does, not when it’s just the two of you.
Abby moves with that same unerring precision she always carries, each step deliberate, economical, hesitation is something she shed a long time ago. You tell yourself you’re keeping close out of habit, out of caution—but the truth feels thinner the longer you sit with it. There’s something else beneath it, something far less practical, something you haven’t quite found the courage to name.
She slows near the end of the corridor, just enough that you nearly step into her before catching yourself. It earns you a glance over her shoulder—brief and assessing, familiar in a way that makes your chest tighten for reasons that have nothing to do with patrol protocol.
You expect a correction, something clipped and practical, but she just looks at you for a second longer than necessary before turning back to the door in front of her. It’s a small thing. Almost inconsequential.
“Eyes up,” she hums, quiet but firm, not even looking at you as she says it.
“I’m looking,” you defend, a little too quick, adjusting your grip on your weapon clumsily.
She doesn’t argue, just moves deeper into the room, checking angles out of habit. It’s small; bare walls, an overturned desk, and a worn couch slumped against one side. Nothing moves. Nothing breathes. This seems like the kind of place where you can take a well deserved break.
But your not exactly paying attention, your gaze zeroing in on her instead of assessing the room. On the shape of her shoulders under her shirt, the way the fabric clings slightly with sweat from the patrol, darkened at the edges. Her forearms flex as she lowers her weapon, skin faintly sheened, catching the low light in a way that makes it difficult to look anywhere else for too long. There’s something grounding about it, something solid, and your thoughts latch onto it before you can redirect them.
You drag your gaze away reluctantly, but it doesn’t last.
Abby glances back, catching you mid-second-look.
“Something on my face?” she asks, dry, one brow lifting just slightly.
Heat rises almost instantly, and you look off to the side like the wall has suddenly become fascinating. “Uh- no.”
“Then quit staring holes through me,” she mutters, turning back toward the room, though you catch the faintest hint of amusement in her tone.
You press your lips together, trying to ignore the way your chest feels tighter than it should. “I wasn’t staring.”
Abby huffs under her breath, soft and unconvinced, and for a second you think she’ll leave it there.
You almost wish she would.
“You’re the one who literally just stood there,” you say instead, quieter now, because apparently you’ve decided not to help yourself tonight.
That gets her attention again.
She turns fully this time, and there’s something about the way she looks at you—more focused, less distracted by the environment. Her eyes narrow, steady and assessing, like she’s trying to decide something.
“I cleared the room,” she says, but there’s less emphasis on the words than there should be.
“Yeah,” you scoff, “I noticed.”
The silence that follows isn’t empty. It stretches until it becomes something else entirely. You’re aware of everything at once—the quiet, the closeness, the way she hasn’t looked away yet.
Your thoughts shift again, less scattered now, more deliberate, and that’s almost worse. You notice the way her hands have relaxed at her sides, the tension bleeding out of them slowly. You notice how close she already is without either of you stepping forward yet. You notice the way your own breathing has changed.
You shouldn’t be thinking about her like this here. Or anywhere for that matter.
That thought flickers briefly, very easy to dismiss.
“You gonna keep pretending you’re not distracted,” Abby says, her voice more grounded, she’s already stepped out of patrol mode whether she meant to or not, “or do you want to admit it?”
“I wasn’t even lookin’ in your direction missy,” you try to defend as casually as possible.
That gets her to face you fully.
Now there’s no mission in her eyes. Just that steady, assessing look she always gets when she’s trying to figure you out—except she already knows you. That’s the problem. That’s always the problem.
“Like hell you weren’t, and this isn’t the first time either,” she says.
You scoff, “I don’t even know what you’re trying to imply.”
“Mhm. You always act like nothing’s happening when you’re literally—” she pauses, gestures vaguely between you both, like she refuses to say it out loud.
Your face warms instantly. “Okay, in my defense, you brought me into an abandoned room and started acting all weird.”
“I’m not the one acting weird.”
“You are definitely acting weird.” yep gaslight her.
Abby exhales through her nose. “Well, you’re distracting.”
That shuts you up for longer than you normally choose to be. Cause that definitely did not sound like an accusation.
It sounded more like a confession she didn’t mean to say. But you can't let yourself read into it too much.
You push off the desk, taking a careful step closer. “I’m distracting you?”
“Yes.”
“From what exactly? The extremely important dust inspection?”
Her eyes narrow slightly, but there’s something fond underneath it now. “From my job.”
There’s a pause—long enough for her roll her eyes when you don’t say anything.
You try to salvage it, because that’s what you do when things get too real. “I feel like your job is mostly kicking doors and looking as intimidating as possible– no offense.”
That finally pulls a real reaction out of her. Not a smile exactly, but something dangerously close.
“So you think I’m intimidating?” she drawls, completely ignoring the first half of your statement.
You immediately regret opening your mouth. “That’s not— I mean, yeah. Obviously. You’re, like… very tall. And strong. And—”
“Stop talking.”
“Yeah, that’s probably for the best.”
She huffs out a quiet laugh, chin dropping to her chest briefly before her eyes find yours again. “You’re not subtle y'know,”
You let out a breath, something caught between a sigh and a laugh, your fingers brushing absently against the edge of the desk behind you. “Neither are you.”
It’s almost as if she didn’t expect you to say that. There’s a small shift in her expression, the corner of her mouth pulling just slightly.
“Not trying to be,” she admits.
She must have know the effect that would have on you, because your heart nearly stops beating in your chest when it registers.
You don’t think about moving closer, not consciously. It just… happens. One step, then another, until the space between you feels intentional instead of incidental. Abby doesn’t retreat. If anything, she adjusts slightly, her stance grounding as you close in, like she’s meeting you there without making a point of it.
Your pulse feels louder now, and you’re acutely aware of how easy it would be to stop this—step back, say something, break the tension before it becomes something else entirely.
But you don't want to.
Abb pulls you in when you get close enough, fingers catching the front of your jacket. The contact is steady, firm without being forceful, and you feel your stomach flip.
“You’re trouble,” she breathes, her voice low, completely in your spce now.
There’s something about the way she says it—flat, honest—that makes your breath catch slightly.
“You’re the one who pulled me in here,” you reply, but there’s no real argument behind it.
“Didn’t hear you complain,” she retorts, her large hands sliding under your jacket like she’s testing the distance between you.
You open your mouth, but whatever you were going to say dissolves the second her gaze flickers—not to your eyes this time, but lower, brief and unguarded.
The small action is enough to extinguish your resolve.
You don’t step back.
She doesn’t give you the chance to overthink it.
Abby closes the distance in one smooth movement, her hand sliding from your jacket to your jaw, steadying you as she leans in. The kiss isn’t rushed, but it isn’t hesitant either—it feels decided, like she crossed that line in her head long before now and is only just acting on it.
For a second, your body lags behind your mind, caught in the suddenness of it.
Then you respond.
Your hand grips her collar instinctively, the other pressing against her shoulder, grounding yourself in her solid presence. You feel her groan, the sound vibrating through her chest and you let out a whimper in response.
She doesn’t overwhelm you. Even now, there’s control in the way she moves, in the way she holds you, like she’s guiding instead of taking.
You’re dimly aware of moving, your back meeting the wall behind you before you fully register it. Abby follows without breaking the contact, her hand settling at your waist now, firm and warm through the fabric. The pressure of it sends a sharp awareness through you, your thoughts scattering again.
This is real.
She’s right here.
When she pulls back, it’s only slightly, just enough to look at you. Her hands don't leave you, her thumb brushing once against your side like she’s checking you’re okay with this.
“You still with me?” she rasps, her voice low, stripped down to something more honest.
You nod, your breath uneven. “Mmhh, yeah.”
That’s all she needs.
Her hand finds yours, her grip steady as she guides you away from the wall. You follow without thinking, your balance stuttering as she leads you toward the couch. It creaks under her weight when she sits, and before you can fully process it, she’s pulling you down with her.
You end up straddling her lap, hands still half-curled in her shirt, your breathing ragged, catching every time her chest brushes your painfully hardened nipples through your shirt.
Every nerve ending in your body feels like it’s on fire.
Your thoughts spin—this is reckless, so badly timed—but they feel distant, insubstantial compared to the way she’s looking at you now.
“Relax,” she coos softly.
You let out a small, uneven breath, your fingers tightening slightly against her. “You’re not exactly helping.”
That earns you the faintest huff of amusement, warm against your skin, and then she leans in again, close enough to whisper in your ear.
“Can I take this off?” she pleads, fingers already hooking into the hem of your sweater like she’s asking out of habit more than hesitation.
You barely process the words before you’re moving, shrugging out of your jacket and tugging the fabric up and over your head in one impatient motion, like the extra layer suddenly feels unbearable. The cool air hits your skin sharply, but it doesn’t last—Abby’s hands are already back on you, warm and steady, settling at your waist like she needs to ground herself again.
"fuck" she groans, head falling back against the couch as she grips your hips bruisingly tight to keep you there, watching reverently as you reach behind you to unhook your bra and let your sensitive tits spill out.
Her hands immediately reach up to roll your nipples between her fingers and you hiss, bolts of pleasure shooting through you, she kisses over the top of your breasts, licking and sucking the soft skin all the way up to your throat.
Your back arches involuntarily, embarrassed at how soaked you probably already are.
Your fingers tighten in her shirt without thinking, pulling slightly, and the reaction is immediate. Abby shifts beneath you, her hand sliding up your side firmly.
She doesn’t give you much warning.
One second her breath is still uneven against your skin, the next her hand shifts—firm at your jaw, guiding your face down toward hers—and then her mouth is on yours again.
This time it’s different.
There’s nothing tentative left in it. The kiss is hungry, all teeth and tongue, like whatever restraint she had is wearing thin by the second. You feel it in the way she pulls you closer, her fingers sinking into your hair.
Your moan against her, the rhythm of it breaking apart as you try to keep up. It’s messy in a way that feels real; your lips barely parting before she follows, not rushing but not slowing either.
There’s a moment where the kiss lingers, not moving, just held there—warm, breathless, both of you suspended in it—before she shifts again, tilting her head, deepening it without hesitation.
The change sends a rush through you, your thoughts scattering completely as your breathing stutters against hers. She’s not planning to stop unless you make her.
You barely manage to.
Your hand moves from her shoulders to her jaw, not pushing hard, just enough to pull back an inch—your foreheads almost brushing,the both of you now panting.
“Wait—” you murmur, dizzy with want.
Abby doesn’t move far, her grip still firm at your waist, her eyes flicking over your face like she’s trying to discern if there’s something wrong.
“What is it?” she asks, low, voice rougher now.
Your gaze drifts downwards without thinking, the fabric warm under your hands, suddenly too much—too in the way. still stubbornly in place despite everything else that’s come undone.
It feels almost absurd in comparison.
“You’re still wearing this,” you murmur, fingers tugging at the collar.
There’s the faintest pause—her eyes drop briefly to where your hand’s caught in the fabric, then back up to your face.
“That bothering you?” she asks playfully.
You huff out a breath, your thumb catching the edge of it. “A little.”
Abby’s mouth twitches, just barely.
“Then take it off.”
You waist no time. Your hands bunch in her shirt and tug it up over her head in one sharp motion, fabric sliding fast between your fingers as Abby helps without breaking rhythm. Her arms flex as she moves, all hard lines and controlled strength.
You’re kissing her again before you can stop yourself, breath uneven. Abby meets it instantly, her hands dropping, fingers already working at the button of your jeans.
The button slips open under her fingers, her hand pushing past it, slipping beneath the waistband to trace her fingers along the lines of your underwear.
“Shit, you’re so wet,” Abby flips you on the couch so that you're laid down, the cushions dipping under you as she follows immediately, her weight settling over yours.
She dips down, pressing a brief kiss to your sternum before pulling back, already tugging your jeans off with quick, practiced hands.
Pushing your panties aside, Abby gives your pussy a shallow lick, making you yelp at the sudden contact.
“Abby...” you let out a high pitched whine, bucking your hips up into her face.
abby's smirk is clearly visible in her eyes as she sucks your clit into her mouth, picking your thighs up to place around her neck. She was smothering herself in your dripping pussy, the noises she pulls out of you so obscene it almost surprises you, catching in your throat before you can stop them.
“oh, fuck… Abby, hmph need more, please….” you beg, back arched and eyes almost rolled back into your head.
"yeah, baby? gonna slut you out right here, fuck," abby moaned, worked up herself from the way your hands are tangled in her messy blonde hair.
She pushes her fingers in slowly, keeping a steady pace as they work inside you. Two was just enough to provide a challenging stretch.
You couldn't help but squirm under her as her digits moved inside your sopping cunt, drawing out the filthiest noises.
Your legs had already began to quiver at the combination— fingers fucking into you and tongue lapping at your slit. You gotta give it to her, the girl is good with her hands.
You were seconds away from cumming, and it didn’t help that Abby was so loud—panting, groaning into your pussy, every sound dragging you closer on its own, made worse by the way it all pressed through her into you.
“Ngh- fuck, don’t stop…” you whine out with a breathless moan.
"that's it, baby. good girl, you gonna cum f’me?”
your moans grew whinier as you neared your climax, cum gushes from your pussy, but Abby doesn’t let up, working you through it until you’re pawing at her shoulders and jerking your hips away from her face.
She pulls back, looking up at you with an expression on her face that’s unguarded in a way she doesn’t usually allow, almost too open to define properly. She crawls up your body without much warning, peppering small kisses in her ascent.
“Think we can get back now?” you ask, still a little unsteady, trying to catch your breath.
Abby tilts her head playfully, watching you. “That eager to get away from me huh?”
You don’t even hesitate. “Eager to get you somewhere that isn’t crawling with infected so I can return the favor.”
A quiet, almost choked sound slips out of her before she catches herself, eyes widening just a fraction.
A faint flush rises across her cheeks before she schools it back into place, jaw tightening as she clears her throat. voice coming out a little rougher than intended when she speaks again.
“If we take a shortcut, I can get us there in half the time.”
You raise an amused brow, “there was a shortcut?”
A beat passes before she answers. “…maybe.”
You narrow your eyes a little, catching on. “You’re telling me you’ve been dragging me through half of Seattle for fun?” You try to sound stern, but you can’t even be mad.
“Maybe I wanted to spend more time with you,” she says, unbothered, then adds, “you seemed pretty into it.”
Streamer!Abby Anderson x Camgirl!Reader Headcanons
NSFW under the cut.
SFW
Abby built a big following on Twitch from her fitness Tiktoks. She starts doing some personal training stuff when she moves to California for "bigger opportunities" and gets hired to be your trainer.
She has heard your name thrown around before because you're big in the industry, but hadn't sought out your content. The two of you seem to have opposite reactions to watching one of each other's streams.
Abby gets really bashful and has trouble looking you in the eye. You think Abby is absolutely adorable after watching her play some survival game for like ten hours. You don't admit you watched the whole stream, but you definitely did.
You get a Twitch channel after that and ask Abby if she'll help you get the hang of games on it. That's the first time Abby comes over, and she's surprised to learn that you aren't absolutely terrible, even if you do rage a lot.
A few people in Abby's chat recognize you immediately and give her a world of shit for it. Abby brushes it off at first, but once the two of you start getting to a sort of dating point, they're banned for making comments on you. Abby is incredibly protective of you, even if she's not ashamed or upset by what you do.
Abby gets a special link to all of your streams and videos, which she rarely uses unless you're away from each other. And even then, she prefers the VODs of you playing Fortnite and absolutely raging.
When you play your first heavier story game, Abby comes over the second you start crying. She doesn't care if everyone calls her whipped or that's how they find out you're dating, she had to comfort you.
You're really grateful for the more wholesome following you get from being around Abby and her friends. You don't realize how much of an effect your job had on your mental health until people weren't treating you like an object.
Abby is big on giving you time to process this, and she even offers a platform to say your piece in case you're not comfortable with your following seeing it. You don't go too deep, but you do mention how nice the contrast is a few times.
Abby moves away from online shooters a bit to play more co-op stuff with you. Games that she used to shit on were now being bought on release because you mentioned it might be fun. Her fans definitely give her shit for this, but she denies it.
People flirt with both of you a lot, and it gets to Abby more than it gets to you. Anyone who dared to do it in person while she was around immediately got cut out of her life. You think it's dramatic, but Abby shut you up by pointing out how pouty you get when girls look at her in the gym.
Abby showed you another side of the internet, and you (much to a lot of people's joy) got Abby to post more thirst trap type content. It was still rare, but nobody missed the risque picture or two that made it into her photo dumps on Instagram.
NSFW
Abby is the first person who you had been with after starting your career that asked you what you liked, and it threw you for a loop. Everybody just assumes that you're down with whatever, but not Abby. She mentioned having noticed some varying enthusiasm about certain things, but still wanted to ask.
She primarily tops you and while she'll listen if you tell her something, Abby keeps control. She's very dominant but not in a mean way. She's far too respectful to treat you poorly, especially in the bedroom.
Openly watches your spicy content, but only the videos where you're by yourself. She tried to watch one with a partner, but she made herself jealous. After that, you agree to solo stuff unless you really need the money from a collab.
There are videos of you and Abby together in bed, but only one got posted when she got in an argument with trolls about being a cuck. Abby was quick to post a video of you sucking on her fingers as her strap pounded in and out of you (she deleted it later, but it still circulates sometimes)
Abby uses her fitness training to her benefit. You thought you had built up good stamina until you got in bed with her. She put you through the ringer just to let you know it was on the table as an option.
As respectful as Abby is, she doesn't hold back with you. She knows that you can handle her, and sometimes, it's nice for both of you when she's rough. You like to see the bruises even if she hates it.
Abby's aftercare was really basic before you, but she openly asks how to make it better. Any bit of advice you give her in the bedroom is taken to heart and practiced at the first chance.
Abby will have her fun with toys, but she is a munch at heart. You get her a shirt that says so and her chat tries to make fun of her for it, but she puts them in their place with a lecture. You think she'll get banned for it, but later a lot of people thank her for the advice.
The two of you have a very healthy sex life. Sometimes you wonder if it's a bit much, but you enjoy yourselves and take care of each other. If you cut a stream or two short, then it just had to happen.
words: 4.4k
warnings: 18+. MINORS DNI. pitfighter!abby, catalina island au, reader & abby broke up, vi cameo teehee, blood, violence, self-destructive behaviours, one mention of ow*n, probably out of character idk i'm rusty, typos i'm sleepy
She pretends not to feel it at first. Goes about her usual routine at the Catalina Island Firefly base. Doesn’t sleep, barely eats, but acknowledges neither the exhaustion nor the hunger. Focuses on training, patrols, resources. Looks away when your paths cross. Brushes Lev off when he asks what happened. It’s not a wall she’s built. More an iron cage without a door, nobody allowed in or out.
But the ache of missing you still seeps through the cracks.
Then she overhears rumblings of secret fights held in a warehouse just off base. She’s seen more bruises than usual recently, but chalked it up to training injuries until now. And when she asks about it, her fists ball like she’s already in the pit. Only recently has she gotten all of her old muscle back, and she likes the sound of living, breathing punching bags. It’s reckless, and she’ll have to be careful not to harm her opponents so much that the Firefly leaders begin to notice the injuries, but the idea of fighting, letting all of her anger out, sounds a hell of a lot better than staring at her ceiling, trying to forget the sound of your voice, all the while knowing your shirt is still under her bed because giving it back would mean it’s really over. She’s in purgatory. Shut down.
Maybe this will wake her up.
By the second week, she’s the reigning champion. She fights every night. Nobody beats her, but they do batter her. She likes it — the physical pain builds, builds, builds, until there’s no room left in her broken bones for missing you. Lev notices the bruises. She is a bad liar, but good at shutting down. She knows she’s cruel to make him worry, but he’s getting older now. She convinces herself he doesn’t need her the way he used to.
You notice, too. You have to bite your tongue to keep from asking what happened, knowing it’s not your place.
She fights again. Again. Again.
By week four, she’s accepting the drinks offered to her by those winning money in her favour. She goes to sleep and wakes up drunk, or at least foggy. It helps with the pain, so she doesn’t stop.
You can’t bear it. You barely recognise her. It’s Lev who convinces you to break the radio silence between you, eyes big and round and pleading. “I’m worried about her. Please. I can’t get through to her, but you can. I know you can.”
“If she wanted to talk to me, she would,” you insist.
His fingers curl around your forearm tight. “Please.” His chin wobbles. “She’s going to get hurt.”
Your chest lurches with the sincerity of it, and the fear.
More than that, the guilt, even though she’s the one who ended things. Maybe you should have fought harder, but you weren’t in the habit of chasing people when they cast you aside. You needed her to love you, let you love her, and she couldn’t. Always so stoic, always so focused on her duties. She could shut you out for weeks, and, fuck, it hurt. You wanted to be patient, but in the end, you found yourself begging for a speck of attention, a second of her time.
“Maybe this is as far as we go."
“What are you saying?”
Her expression had shuttered, features made of impenetrable steel. “I can’t give you what you need.”
A lump filled your throat. It took eons to clear it for long enough to choke out, “Then why take it this far? Why string me along this long?”
She had the good sense to dip her chin with guilt, turning away from you in increments: one foot twisting, then the other, until you’re staring at the slabs of muscle on her back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”
You’d been falling in love with her. Her lack of care, of emotion, of anything, shattered you to a million pieces.
But like her, you’re a soldier, so you didn’t let it show, instead grabbing your belongings from her room as hastily as you can. Pants and shirts and gun all shoved into your backpack. “No. No, you shouldn't have.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again, but her voice was flat. She’d checked out at the first opportunity, and you were a fool for not seeing it sooner. “It isn’t anything you did—”
You scoffed. “Spare the cliches, Abby. I don’t need to fucking hear them. You don’t want me, I’m gone. I’m just sorry we both wasted so much time.”
She hadn’t argued, hadn’t given you the reassurance you’d needed so badly to hear. She’d let you go, and you hadn’t spoken to her since.
“Do you know what, exactly, is going on with her?” you ask Lev.
He shakes his head. “Just that she’s gone every night, and she comes back a mess.”
It’s likely nothing to do with you at all. She's tormented by far worse things than you and your brief flame. Still, it’s Lev. It’s Abby. You nod and placate him: “I’ll try. No promises.”
His grateful "thank you" dislodges something inside you.
That evening, you catch her heading down the corridor where both of your rooms are stationed. Since she looks right through you, don’t beat it around the bush, grabbing her arm with rough abandon. Her eyes are glassy and glacial as they meets yours, but there are cracks. Under them, you see a question shimmer.
“Lev is worried about you. Whatever you’ve got going on, whatever hole you’re digging yourself into, stop it. Now.”
Her lip curls with something akin to a sneer, and as she yanks away, the stench of vodka wafts over you. She’s already drunk. Up close, you see purple smatterings over her jaw, her cheek. She rubs the place your hand had clamped over, revealing split knuckles. She’s been fighting. You’d bet anything that it’s connected to Simon’s two missing teeth, which you noticed the day before, and Leo’s broken arm the day before that.
“Did he ask you to say that?” she responds tersely.
“Yes,” you hiss. “For whatever reason, he thinks it might make a difference, and I wasn’t about to break his heart. Are you?”
Her lips purse as she looks you over like she would a stranger. The braid she usually keeps so neat is falling apart at the seams, just like the rest of her. “He doesn’t need to worry.”
“No?” You cock your head. “So the split knuckles and sour breath… All normal, right?”
“It’s none of your business,” she grinds out.
“This isn’t you,” you protest with an equal amount of vehemence. You hate that your emotions crack through, hate that you’re practically pleading, but the shadows in the hollows of her cheeks and under her eyes scare you. She’s never, not once, succumbed to her demons before. Never touched a drink, never been reckless, knowing that she has to be responsible for Lev if not herself. All of this is new. Was there something else, something you missed, when you were dating?
When she says nothing, you sigh and try another tactic, softening as you inch closer. Your fingers ghost over the raw skin on her hand. “Maybe it makes me an idiot, but I’m worried about you.”
The barrier seems to gain another layer of reinforced metal as she jolts away, all but glowering at you through hooded slits. “Don’t be.”
She walks away, leaving you alone and no closer to fixing this.
Only when her figure has retreated completely do you let a jagged breath gutter from you, stomach tying itself in knots.
You still love her, despite your better judgement, despite your pride, despite your heartbreak — and this is an abandonment far worse than the one previous, because it isn’t you she’s left behind. It’s herself.
The next night, you go to a fight. You hadn’t believed the rumours to be true, believing that surely your peers had better survival instincts than to bet on each other’s aggression for sport. But depravity rears its ugly head in every community you’ve ever been a part of, so of course the opportunity was taken.
You just never thought Abby would be the first to raise her fists.
The warehouse is dank, the pit a square in the middle of the rotting third floor marked out by masking tape and lit by floodlights powered by a generator. Rations are traded for beer and moonshine, bets are placed in the currency of rota duties and rare supplies. You’re surprised at just how many of your own friends come down to watch the bloodshed. If they kept it a secret, it was likely because they knew their star fighter was a sore subject for you.
It makes you angry to think of them all drunkenly cheering her on every night, enabling this.
You worm your way to the front of the crowd, Simon muttering an, “Oh, shit,” beside you.
“What?” You raise a brow. “Surprised I didn’t want to miss out on the fun?”
“Don’t even think of reporting this,” he warns. “It’s the only fucking excitement we get.”
You mock zipping up your lips, turning your attention back to the ring with folded arms. A patroller named Vince quietens the roaring audience to announce the first fighter: Violet, a tattooed fisherwoman you know only because she brings home enough salmon and cod to feed the entire base. She’s lean, tall, almost as strong as Abby, and twice as fierce as she warms up with swift jabs into the air. The cheers make it known that she has people rooting for her.
And then the reigning champion is introduced. Abby Anderson. She enters the pit with far less flamboyance, that same steely gaze you bore the brunt of yesterday dragging over the crowd as she secures the blood-stained wraps around her knuckles. Acid builds in your throat. Why is she doing this?
And why is she swaying like she doesn’t even care about winning enough to stay sober?
It only hits you then how bad this is. Lev had every reason to be terrified for the woman who has dragged him through hell. With hunched shoulders, she already looks defeated, and you find it hard to believe that her raw strength was enough to get her here. There is no will there, no determination. Just a withering shell letting her body speak for her, and even that might not be enough. She’s lost muscle recently.
You can’t let her do this — but by the time you step into the pit to go to her in the opposite corner, a countdown has begun and Simon is dragging you back. “She’s fine. She's never lost a fight.”
You rear back. “She’s drunk.”
“Never stopped her before.”
Suddenly, you hate everyone in this room, her included. After everything these people have survived – everything she has survived – they’re willing to ruin their bodies over a sadistic little sport?
The fight begins before you have time to process it, blows thrown on both sides. You wince when Violet’s fists collide with Abby’s jaw in an audible thump, leaving blood to trickle down the corner of her mouth. Abby snarls as she wipes it away, a new scorn rising in her all at once. She hits back twice: once to Violet’s cheek, the other to her chin. When Violet stumbles back, nose already busted, Abby drives a boot into her toned stomach.
You’re relieved: it’ll be over quickly. Except Violet snaps to attention, throwing daggers as she rights herself. The women are all primal fury as they hit and parry. After moments of catching their breaths with light jabs, Violet swings, sending Abby tumbling across the pit, towards you. She spits blood, unaware it’s your shoes it lands right next to. Her freckles are crimson now, too.
You can’t do this. You can’t watch this. She’s destroying herself. The worst part is the slimy grin she gives whenever she’s hit, like she enjoys the pain.
Soon, blood is staining her teeth. Violet is in worse shape, but it doesn’t make you feel better. Part of you wants to leave, find a way to claw the love you have for her out of your chest so you never have to feel this nauseating devastation again.
Another part of you — the strongest part — wants to stop this. Now.
That part of you wins out.
You elbow Simon in the gut as he tries to stop you, marching into the pit and just barely missing Violet’s swings. You ignore her, wedging yourself between the fighters and catching Abby’s wrist before she pummels into you instead of her opponent.
“Stop it. Now. Please,” you beg.
At first, her expression is blank, like she doesn’t recognise you at all.
“Get out of the fucking ring!” Violet orders from behind, shoving you towards the edge. The referee joins, all of them grappling to usher you away, but you latch onto Abby, cupping her jaw.
“You’re going to get yourself hurt. I need you to stop. I’m begging you, Abby.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispers, breath all heady whisky and sourness.
“Get the fuck out of my way!” Violet is screaming, and then you’re thrust aside like you’re nothing more than a featherlight obstacle. The crowd catches you as you stagger into them, and you whip to wreak vengeance —
But Abby gets there first, knocking Violet to the ground with more carnal fury than you’ve ever seen in her before.
There are cheers and boos, complaints it wasn’t a fair fight, but your ears ring loudly enough to drown them all out, because you don’t know who this woman is. Her chest heaves ferociously, fists balled tight as knots, teeth bared like a wild animal.
She looks at you, and it wavers. All of her wavers, right down to her powerful stance.
Without waiting for the ref’s verdict, she storms away, disappearing behind a smog of angered onlookers.
There is nothing you can do but follow.
Abby marches out of the warehouse still brimming with rage, your crumbling expression imprinted on the back of her eyelids. As soon as she hits the weed-infested concrete, she doubles over, vomiting bile mixed with the blood she can still taste. She likes it, that metallic tang that drives thoughts of you away — but not tonight. Tonight, she can’t escape you.
Why are you here?
“Abby—”
She flinches from your touch like she would barbed wire, thrusting you back, though she just knocked a woman unconscious for doing the same. She had no idea that sort of strength lived in her. She’d hurt people before, but she’d never wanted to rip them apart, not until she saw the other fighter lay their hands on you.
Your eyes are shimmering, the same way they did when she sent you away. It winds her more than the strongest of fists, causing her to bend over and cough up another splattering of foul acid. Her stomach hurts, and she doesn’t know if it’s from the retching or the punches she was dealt.
Or from you, for being here, seeing her like this. She isn’t proud of who she’s become in your absence. She just didn’t know where else to put all of the feelings she didn’t want to feel. The grief that came with knowing she’d never be able to open up and give you the love you deserve. She is not whole, and you were supposed to realise that and walk away before she had to make it known.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” she demands.
“I’m trying to stop you from destroying yourself!” you scream back. Never, not once, have you raised your voice before: not at her, not at anyone else. It pierces through her with a razor-sharp edge, and she knows this is the fight she won’t survive.
“It’s none of your fucking business what I do—”
“Fuck you, Abby!” You shake your head, tears rolling down your cheeks. “You don’t get to do this! You have no idea how lucky you are to have people who love you, people who want to keep you here! Why are you trying to ruin it?” And then, in nothing more than a fragile rasp: “Why do you push us away?”
She bites down on her swollen lip, turning to unravel the wrap around her knuckles before the blood soaks all the way though. She barely feels the sting, adrenaline and liquor still pumping through her and casting her beneath an overwhelming, contradictory veil of confusion and clarity.
“I’m not doing this with you,” she spits out, because she can’t, and why can’t you just see that? Why don’t you understand that she can’t give you the power to ruin her?
“No. No, I’m not letting you pull this shit anymore. Whatever’s wrong, whatever has you acting like this, you tell me. Or you tell Lev. You tell someone and you figure out a way to live with it without burying yourself in the process.”
It amazes her that you can still care about her after the way she treated you. Her braid slips into disarray as she scrapes back her hair, spending extra time digging her palm into her forehead, where a steady pulse has been roaring for weeks.
There is nothing that she wants to tell you, or anyone else, so she throws down the bloodied bandages and begins to walk away.
You don’t let her, pushing her back into the wall and pinning her there. “You aren’t like this,” you say, voice hoarse and desperate. “You don’t hurt people for fun. You don’t fall apart.”
“I’m not falling apart—” Her spine cracks against the wall as you prevent her from leaving again, forcing a thick gulp from her.
“Bullshit.”
“I’m warning you,” she says lowly. “Get your hands off me. Now.”
“Or what? You want to punch me instead? Will that make you feel better?”
Just the thought causes disgust to contort her features. She looks away to avoid your gaze, but she can’t pretend the warmth of your digging palms isn’t burning into her like the first shred of hope she’s had in a lifetime. They also maim, their razor edge reminding her of how little she deserves you. How terrible she is for putting you through this, all because she can’t bear to let someone in after all the loss and tragedy and trauma she’s faced.
“Go ahead,” you’re saying. “Do it. You wanna destroy something, destroy me.”
“Stop it,” she hisses.
“No, Abby. I promised Lev I would get you back, and I’m not going back on it.”
The muscle in her jaw feathers as regret, guilt, self-loathing all surface. She remembers why she fell for you. You’re stubborn as fuck, more of a fighter than she’ll ever be. A force of nature, but with a heart so golden it almost blinded her.
“What do I have to do,” she utters cruelly, “to get you away from me for good?”
The blow lands the way she hoped, your strength wavering for just long enough for her to free herself.
“What is wrong with you?” you whisper. “What happened to you?”
She doesn’t have an answer. Not really. She realised she was falling for you one minute, and images of Owen lying in a pool of his own blood flickered through her mind the next. She caused that. She was the reason her friends died, the reason Lev lost his sister, the reason they were imprisoned in Santa Barbara for three months, surviving things that neither of them could put words to even now.
All of it came down on her at once, bricks of exhaustion and terror and self-hatred erecting a wall between you. If she let you love her, she would disappoint you. And you? You walked away so easily.
She wished that were still true, because this was harder. This was torture.
Your tears gleam in the moonlight, every emotion on full display now.
“You broke my heart,” you say. “You’re breaking Lev’s heart. I understand that I don’t matter to you, but doesn’t he?”
Abby’s long upheld resolve is almost in ribbons. She’s so close to buckling. “I’m just blowing off steam—”
“You’re killing yourself,” you say. “And you’re killing me. And the worst part is, you don’t seem to care. About anything. Was all of it a lie before? Were you just pretending? Because I don’t recognise you. I don't know who this is.”
When she says nothing, you thump your fists against her puffed out chest again. “Fucking say something, Abby! Did you ever care about me? About anything?”
Her fingers shackle your wrists as she sways under your heavy fury. You deserve to feel every bit of it.
“I hate you,” you mutter. “I hate you for doing this to us. I hate you for doing this to yourself.”
She closes her eyes, but the tears still come. She’s powerless in the face of them — the face of you.
You yield immediately, arms going slack in her grip.
“Abby,” you breathe. She knows it’s her last chance to keep you, and fuck if she wants to. She can’t quite remember why she was ever stupid enough to let you go.
Her tears are wiped from her eyes, only for more to take their place.
You edge closer, stomachs pressing together: yours soft, hers hard. You cup her jaw like before, only this time, she lets you, trembling and broken as she is. Because of you. Because it was only ever a matter of time before you ruined her with that big bleeding heart. She knows how lucky she is that she gets to see it. Most people don’t.
You let her in, and she couldn’t return the courtesy, but now, you’re tearing through the bars and she thinks maybe it’s inevitable that you climb into this cage and rearrange the furniture.
“I know this isn’t how you want things to be,” you’re saying gently. “I know. So stop. Look at me. Talk to me. Don’t keep making me beg. Don’t keep pretending you’re someone else.”
“You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t want to fix something that I broke.”
“I’m not going to sit here and watch you suffer. I love you, Abby. I don’t want to, but I do.”
Resigned, she presses her forehead against yours. “I don’t want you to, either.”
“Tough shit.”
“I… I don’t think I can love another person.”
“I’m not asking you to. This isn't about me anymore. I’m just asking you to go home to the boy who needs you.”
“I mean…” She’s stammering, tongue heavy, mouth cotton. “I mean… I lost so much.” Her voice cracks. “And it was my fault. And so is this. This is my fault.”
“So make it right.”
Her hands knot into your hair, drawing a gasp of surprise from you. “I thought letting you go was the right thing. You made me weak and I can’t be weak. Not ever again.”
“Abby, you’re not making sense. Please, just let me take you home.”
“I lied,” she blurts. “I lied to you. I pushed you away. I’m a mess. And I’m angry. I’m so, so angry. About what happened to me, to Lev, to my friends, my dad. I didn’t want you to see that side of me. I wasn’t ready.”
Only then does she see your mouth part with understanding. She is telling you that she loves you, in her own fucked up way.
You are listening, despite the fact she deserves nothing but hatred from you.
“You walked away so easily,” she continues. “I didn’t think you cared.”
“I needed to protect myself,” you admit. “You hurt me.”
“I’m sorry.” Her gaze bores into you all at once. “There are things I couldn’t tell you. I wanted to run from them.” Her fingers knot tighter in your hair. “I’m so angry.”
“Abby,” you say. “Let me take you home.”
She nods slowly. Mutters, “I’m sorry,” one last time.
This time, you say, “I know,” snaking your arm behind her back to keep her upright as you trudge back towards base.
When you get into her room, you force her to sit, quick to grab a damp cloth from the bathroom to clean her up. She’s a mess. Worse under the dim, bare lightbulb. She’s shuddering, too. You think maybe you’d rather her be a cold-hearted fighter again than whatever this is.
You promise yourself this is all it will be. You’ll clean her up and go, and tomorrow, she’ll fix things with Lev and all will go back to the way it was — before you fell in love with her, that is.
Only it doesn’t go quite like that. Her hand curls around yours midway through dabbing at the congealed blood under her nostrils, stopping you from continuing. “Stay tonight.”
You almost snort. Like hell will you put yourself in the position to be crushed by her again. She’s drunk and beaten, likely won’t remember or care about this in the morning.
“No.”
“Please. I know I have no right to ask, but I want you to stay.”
“I can’t.” You work to keep your expression aloof with the same ice she’s shown you over the past few weeks. “I’ll clean you up and I’ll get you back on your feet, but I’m not going to put myself in this position again.”
You want to believe that what she said before is true: that she’s sorry, that she pushed you away to avoid letting you in, that none of her behaviour was about her feelings for you, but you can’t stop waiting for her to harden again.
You move to her knuckles, tutting at the ruined skin there. “Pitfighting. Jesus, Abby. What were you thinking?”
“That I deserved to hurt,” she confesses quietly.
You hum, brushing the stray strands of hair from her face. “Go to sleep.”
She leans back, head hitting her pillow, but her fingers still lace through yours. You can’t summon the strength to pull away, not when her touch is as gentle as it used to be. There she is. Your Abby, not this new monster you met.
For her, you go back on your word. You stay. Not in her bed, not even close to her, but she’s long asleep before your hands untangle. The last words she utters as her lids close, a patchwork of yellows and blues and purples on her face, are, “‘M sorry.”
“I know,” you say in reply, pressing your lips to her torn skin. Maybe there’s no way to fix what she broke, but you’re willing to try if you can just keep her here with you — because you still love her. You would even if she continued to fight you for days, weeks, months.
