This is a basic about me post with some links, some rules, and a bit of info! Thanks to @cafekitsune, as of now, all banners and dividers on this blog are from them unless specified otherwise! Icon is from @lights-on-the-ridge!
I am Jewish, but I do not support Israel or Neil Druckmann.
For a masterlist of my works, click here!
For Sierra Nevada, my current passion, click here!
Hello! You can call me Joy or France! My main blog is scp116, I like and follow on there, promise I'm not ignoring you! I'm a 24-year-old non-binary (he/they), I live in PNW America, and I'm currently studying English! I've been writing for about 16 years and engaged in fandom culture since I was about ten. I have a passion for linguistics, fandom history, and literary analysis!
I am on the spectrum, tone indicators are appreciated!
Find me on AO3 or Twitter @/scpjoyjoy!
No discourse whatsoever! This is meant to be a fun hobby and I'm not looking to argue, I will not hesitate to block and move on! Please, do not bring drama to my doorstep!
Do not read my explicit works if you are under 18! The majority are explicit and clearly marked so!
Do not feed my work into AI! I'm flattered you like it, but I don't want my work to contribute to any kind of dataset!
DM me to discuss any podfics or translations, I would be honored!
I don't mind having my work downloaded/archived!
I'm happy to take requests, but I may not get to them in a timely manner, or at all.
My DMs are open for discussion of commissions, any questions, or if you just want to yell about these characters with me!
I'm happy to beta-read!
Minors, please do not read my NSFW works!
TERFs, to hell with you! Git!
Zionists, this is not a safe space for you! Git!
Aside from that, bigotry of any kind will not be tolerated.
look i understand the instinct to ship rogue and alt but ultimately i NEED someone to hop on the rogue/fem!v train with me. think about how fucked up the relationship between rogue, johnny, and v already is in canon. now imagine how much MORE fucked up it could be if rogue and v have a weird situationship that develops into something neither of them want to lose.
A mysterious girl with car trouble shows up at the garage. Who is Abby to turn her away?
This work contains a lot of lesbian sex and some car talk. Sorry.
Full Series - Collaborator - Next Fic on AO3
In hindsight, she should have put the pieces together sooner.
It’s late. Abby’s only there for paperwork, wrapping up the things she didn’t have a chance to do while the shop was open. She’s been working overtime a lot, lately. Joel hadn’t asked it of her, far from it. When he promoted her to a manager some months ago, she had damn near promised him she wouldn’t be working overtime. Not for him, not for this dinky little garage, not for anyone. There’s little Abby values more than her routine at the end of her work day. Shedding her uniform onto the floor of her kitchen as she pulls a cold beer from the aging fridge, falling onto the couch in her underwear, lighting up a menthol and turning on whatever channel she fell asleep watching the night before. It’s nearly sacred to her, by now.
Still, here she is. Here she has been, every night for the past two weeks, writing up damage reports to fax to insurance companies in the morning. It’s almost ten, now. A full three hours past closing time, two hours past Abby’s tour of duty, and here she remains. And it’s nobody’s fault but her own.
There’s a brisk knock on the office door. Raising an eyebrow, she looks up to the door that’s already opening before she can respond.
“Hello? Lights on, anybody—”
The girl that appears in the doorway is cute. Really cute. Short, choppy auburn hair, pieces falling just right to frame her face. Little scars across her cheeks and eyebrow, green eyes that shine even from across the room. A ratty Nirvana t-shirt, jeans with rips in the knees, converse that look like they’ve been to hell and back. Her expression, at first confused, slowly morphs into something else. She smirks, eyes softening at the sight of Abby sitting behind her desk. When she raises her hand to push her hair back, Abby gets a glimpse of the fern tattoo sprawling over her forearm.
“…uh, anybody home?”
Abby sits back in her desk chair, raising an eyebrow. It’s rare to get a customer this late, but not unheard of. Usually it means an upcharge. Or, depending on the customer, it means Abby can give out whatever pretty girl discount she wants. “What can I do for you, miss?”
She’s smiling more, now. Leaning up against the doorframe with one leg bent. The pose is just natural enough, but in tandem with the look on her face, Abby can’t take it as anything but seductive. “Sorry to bother you so late. Driving home from college and my car started making this weird noise, saw the lights on and thought I’d stop in to see if someone might be willing to take a look.”
Abby stands, and when she rises to her full height, she swears she can see the girl’s eyes dilate. Her jumpsuit is undone down to her waist, the sleeves tied around her waist. The ribbed tank top she’s got under it used to be white, before it was worn for mechanic work. Now it’s more of a beige, stained with sweat and motor oil, the fabric thinning after years of use. Abby knows her tits are probably at least partially visible through the ratty thing, but she can’t bring herself to care. When she’s dealing with customers the jumpsuit is buttoned, and after a certain point in the night, there’s nobody around but her. Whoever this mystery girl is, she seems to appreciate the view. She can feel herself straightening subconsciously, preening at the attention. Who’s she to complain about this girl stroking her ego? Not like anyone’s bothered to since Abby split with her ex.
“Weird noise, huh? What kind of weird noise?”
“Mm…kind of like, a popping?”
“When?”
The girl shifts her weight to her other leg, eyes drifting to the side. “When I turn.”
Abby’s face twists a little. “Could be the CV joints. How far you got to get home?”
“Oh, not too far.” She smiles, shrugging. “Just got nervous. You know, don’t want the car exploding or anything.”
“Course not. More likely, you’d fuck the joints up worse. I’d be happy to take a look for you, Miss…?”
Her attempt to get a name from the girl doesn’t pan out. She just grins, biting her lip, and gives Abby a quick body check as she turns to exit the office. Abby can’t bring herself to press the issue, not when her ass looks that tight in those jeans.
It’s been a while since Abby’s gotten her hands on a Brat, but here one has fallen into her lap. It’s well maintained, red and black, 1985 if she’s not mistaken. Easily the best year for the model.
“Well, ain’t this a pretty thing?” Abby runs her hand along the doorframe as she approaches the engine, almost feeling guilty for getting her filthy hands on it. Not that guilty, though. “Used to have a Baja myself.”
The girl shrugs, crossing her arms. “Not a big car person. My dad got it for me, he does most of the work taking care of it.”
“I can tell someone cares for this thing. She got a name?”
She grins, taking a few steps closer to lean on the tailgate. “Cassiopeia. I call her Cassie.”
Abby nods, stepping a bit closer to the wall to pull the creeper towards the car with the toe of her boot. “I’ll get a look at those joints. Could be they just need a little lube.”
“Don’t we all?”
Abby snorts a little, positioning herself on the ground to scoot onto the creeper. It gets a little harder every week, her knee injury making trouble as always. Before she slides herself under the chassis, she looks at the girl through the side of her eyes. “Sounds like you sure need it.”
As she disappears under the car, the girl doesn’t respond. There’s nothing notable about the CV joints, not at a cursory glance anyway. Nothing that’ll stop the girl from getting home. At worst, she’ll need to have them greased within the next few weeks to be safe. What she does notice is the girl’s converse wandering closer, her toe dragging along the concrete in what looks like a pattern of some kind.
“Well, looks alright to me—maybe get them checked in a week or so, but you should be alright to get home.” When Abby slides out, the girl is standing right over her, half leaning up against the side of the car. She’s not sure exactly when she got that close, but the growing smile on her face tells Abby it was no accident.
“Thanks for taking a look. Of course I’ll pay you, you know.”
“No need, miss. Just a couple minutes, happy to help out.”
She pushes away from the car, stalking around Abby with her hands in her pockets. “Still—your time is worth something, ain’t it? Does the owner know you’re doing free work for pretty girls?”
Abby huffs a little. She might take it as a challenge, even a threat, if the girl wasn’t still smiling down at her with half-lidded eyes. “Don’t you worry yourself about that. I’m supposed to be off the clock, anyway.” Technically, she was supposed to be off the clock two hours ago.
“That so?”
Before she can process what’s happening, the girl goes to step across Abby’s torso, one foot on either side of her chest. She bends down at the waist, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m not in the habit of taking charity, you know. Gonna pay you back one way or another.”
Abby’s gaze darts across the situation, running up her legs, settling on the buckle of her belt. There’s cameras in the garage, of course—but Joel never checks them without a reason. Last time, it was because Abby knocked out a customer who was giving them a hard time. Shit, she could probably get in and delete the footage before the old man even wakes up. Maybe even download it for herself.
“What did you have in mind, darlin’?”
“Think that’s up to you.” The girl tilts her head, making no attempt to hide the way she's leering. She seems to like what she sees, lingering on Abby's arms, her chest, her shoulders—everything Abby's spent hours working on in the gym. They've been acquainted for less than ten minutes, and already this girl knows just how to stroke her ego. "You into girls? Look like a dyke to me. Gonna break my heart a little if you say you're not."
Abby smirks, reaching out to wrap her hands around the girl's calves. "Why don't you have a seat and find out?"
She smiles and sinks down to straddle Abby’s hips, her knees on either side of the creeper. Abby wraps a hand around the back of her neck as she leans down, pressing their lips together. She aligns her body with Abby’s like it’s second nature, like she’s been waiting to do this since they met just minutes ago. Abby’s been waiting for it too, if she’s honest with herself. The girl squirms against her as she inhales and presses closer, body shifting, and Abby can’t help but reach down and grab her ass. That only seems to rev her up more, stoking the wet heat between them.
Whoever this girl is, Abby quickly gets the impression that she gets around. She tilts her head to bring them closer, grinds her hips down on Abby’s abs, and moans like the star of a camcorder porno. It’s kinda hot, the way she’s laving Abby with attention, like her body is the first hot meal this girl has seen in weeks. Her hands are all over, feeling Abby up like she only has a few minutes to memorize every detail of the body beneath her.
She slips her hand under the girl’s shirt, feeling across the plane of her skin with the gentlest touch she can give. Gentle has never been her strong suit, but she tries her best for the girls that end up in her lap. This one seems so eager, hips shifting like she’s already ready to strip down and rub their cunts together right here on the shop floor. Shit, Abby’s almost there too.
Abby turns her face away, raising a hand to gently hold the girl at a distance. “Ah—can’t do much on this thing. And ‘m not much of a pillow princess.” She wraps her right arm around the girl’s waist and carefully rolls them both over off the creeper, flipping their positions and giving them a more stable surface to work with. The girl’s smiling up at her now, almost smug, spreading her legs to accommodate Abby between them. She raises her hand up to pull out the tie keeping half of her hair pulled back, tossing it aside and letting her short auburn hair fan out around her shoulders. “Didn’t take you for one. Been waiting for this.” She reaches down to grab the hem of Abby’s tank top, tugging it upwards with a raised eyebrow.
Abby rises, still on her knees between the girl’s legs, and pulls the top over her head. She thinks about throwing it before she pauses, folding it and leaning back down on one hand.
“Lift your head.”
The girl looks somewhat amused at that, but complies. When Abby tucks the folded fabric under her head and pushes her back to the ground, she scoffs. “What a gentleman.”
“Shut up unless you want to spend tonight fucking your hand.”
The girl bites her lip, grinding up into Abby’s hips. “Yes ma’am.”
“Ma’am? How old do you think I am?”
“I dunno, thirty?”
“Thirty-two. Not exactly old enough to be a ma’am.”
“Whatever, grandma.”
She reaches up to Abby’s neck and pulls her in for another kiss. Strands of hair fall from her braid onto her face, freed as the girl fights to pull her closer. She busies herself with the girl’s jeans, undoing the fastenings and working the denim down her legs. Once they’re kicked off to the side Abby sits up again, looking down at the gray boy shorts the girl is wearing. There’s a dark spot just above the gusset, one that had to have been growing since she first laid eyes on Abby. It almost hurts to force herself to look away, but she can’t miss the sight of what she’s about to do.
Abby raises her right hand to the girl’s face, pressing her middle and ring finger to her pale bottom lip. “Better get to work if you want it.”
She smiles, eyes drifting down to the hand at her lips. “Starting to think I kinda like it when you’re a bitch.” Her lips part and she reaches up to Abby’s wrist, grabbing it and guiding the fingers into her craving mouth.
“Lucky you,” Abby hums as she reaches down with her left hand, rubbing at the front of the girls’ panties with her thumb. She moans around Abby’s fingers, still working them into her mouth and the back of her throat as she grinds her hips up. “Cause you seem like a real fuckin’ brat to me. That about right?”
The girl nods, looking up at Abby through half-lidded eyes. Those pink, wet lips are working up and down Abby’s calloused fingers, saliva pooling around her knuckles. For a moment, she wishes she’d brought her phone from the office just to get this on video.
“That’s right, pretty girl. You’re real lucky I’ve just been doing paperwork., huh?”
She doesn’t respond. Maybe she likes the taunting—maybe she’s too focused on her task. It sure looks like she loves it. Or maybe she loves the way Abby’s rubbing on her clit, thumb circling around the hard nub under the polyester. Her hips are twisting, chasing her pleasure as she sucks on the fingers in her mouth.
Eventually, Abby pulls her fingers out, inching back and tugging the girl’s underwear down. Her thighs are perfectly smooth, toned, her build athletic. Even better is the dark, thick bush between her legs, untrimmed for at least a month. She smiles at the sight; this girl just keeps getting better. Pretty, tomboyish, bratty, and desperate for Abby. It’s like she walked straight out of Abby’s dreams into the garage, like she studied the stack of skin mags Abby has in her nightstand and walked in ready to seduce her.
Abby pulls the panties lower and lower until she can tug them all the way off, tucking them into the back pocket of her overalls. She won’t be getting those back.
Easing herself down, she coaxes the girl’s legs apart and drags her lubed fingers over the folds of her cunt. Abby drags them from her clit downwards, fingers parting to trace each side of her entrance. Her tender skin is a perfect coral pink, soft and plump beneath her touch. It’s fleshy, reminiscent of the meat of Abby’s own lip as she bites it in anticipation. The girl is tense beneath her, whining quietly on each exhale, thighs twitching—but she’s patient. Still, or as still as she can be. She’s soaking wet, cunt drooling onto the oily concrete beneath her, and she seems content to let Abby take in the sight as long as she wants.
But if Abby wanted to just look, she’d be at home with one of her magazines.
When she pushes her fingers into the girl’s core, she arches her back off the ground, moaning like she can’t resist the urge to. Abby’s taking it slow, only barely hearing the involuntary sound she makes herself. She can’t help it—the sight, the risk, her voice, even the smell of sex filling the air.
She curls her fingers into the girl, curls up, into the wall she reaches for every time she fucks herself like this. For a moment, she almost forgets about the girl herself, the world narrowing to herself and the snatch she’s trying to please. Abby can damn near feel her pulse—the way her body responds to the touch, warm and so wet, already soaking Abby up to the knuckle with spit and cream. It spreads itself across her fingers as she pulls them out and forces them back in, fingers curling up against the girl’s body to give all the length she can.
The girl’s hooked her hand around one of her thighs, pulling her leg off to the side. If Abby was using her strap-on, she’d take care of that for her. She’d have her knees pushed up to her chest, pure necessity as Abby takes up the space between her thighs. Maybe she’ll have to get this chick’s number—show her an even better time than Abby can give her on the floor of a mechanic shop.
Abby leans in, sticking out her tongue to flick at the girl’s clit before she seals her lips around it. Her hand moves faster as she focuses her attention on the firm nub, tongue circling and curling around it until Abby can feel how much she likes it. She tenses around Abby’s fingers, hips shifting as she cries out again.
“Fuck, Abby!”
Her voice is breathy and high, almost whining as she reaches down to rest a hand on Abby’s head. It only spurs her on, all but ignoring her own arousal as she focuses on the task in her hands.
Abby feels the hand in her hair tighten as the girl tightens around her fingers, refusing to unlatch herself from the girl’s clit until she’s gasping and pushing Abby’s head away. She makes a few noises, gasping for air, holding Abby at a short distance. Eventually, she looks down, flushed and grinning.
“Holy shit. Fuckin’ knew you’d rock my world.”
-
Once they’re cleaned up and the girl has her number, she gets back in her car with a sly grin and a vague promise to be in touch.
As Abby watches the gorgeous Brat drive away from her, almost seduced enough to hope the girl calls her, she reaches up to push her hair back. A good amount of it has been pulled loose from her braid, the girl desperate for Abby, moaning like a whore the whole time. She smirks at the memory—then stops cold.
…didn’t she moan Abby’s name?
Did Abby ever say her name?
The gears in her head try to turn, try to remember, but nothing before the sex comes to her. She doesn’t think she gave the girl her name, but she must have at some point, right?
Narrowing her eyes at the road, she shakes her head and turns back into the shop to close up and delete footage. She must have.
-
If they don’t get a new coffee machine by the time daylight savings ends, Abby is going to chuck this one out the window. Then Tommy can pay for a Keurig and a new window.
He’ll cave—he has to. He’s just as frustrated with the old thing as she is. As she watches him from her desk, swearing under his breath at the machine, her confidence grows.
Eventually, he kicks the table the coffee machine rests on and shambles back to his desk. Once he sits, he looks up at Abby and sighs at her amusement.
“Sorry, Abby. Didn’t get much sleep last night, I’ll try not to bite your head off.”
Abby sits back in her chair, setting down the service manual she’d been holding. “Everything alright at home? Baby ok?”
Tommy nods, taking a sip of the diluted coffee. “Yeah—yeah, he’s alright, Maria too. Joel’s daughter just finished up her degree, came home last night. I wanted to be there to surprise her, and she got in a little later than expected. Had to go home before she got in.”
“Damn. Well, you know I keep a strategic reserve if you get too cranky to talk to customers.” She kicks the bottom drawer of her desk, shooting him a wink before picking her manual back up. He might play at being the disapproving manager, but they both know he’ll take her up on the offer. If not today, soon. The strategic reserve never lasts more than a month.
There’s a knock at the door, then it squeaks as it swings open.
“There she is!”
Abby looks up from her work.
There she is.
The girl, again, with a cocky smile, pressing up against the doorframe. Her hair looks more red in the morning light, freckles on display across her cheeks and shoulders. She’s wearing too-tight skinny jeans and what looks like it used to be a t-shirt, before someone went at it with kitchen scissors.
“Tommy!” She grins and sweeps into the room like she owns it, letting Tommy pull her into a hug as she approaches. Abby has to force herself to close her mouth, staring wide eyed at the girl who was moaning on her fingers less than twelve hours ago. The girl, here, again, hugging Abby’s manager like she knows him well.
He pats her back with his arms wrapped around her. When he pulls back he’s beaming at her. “How you doing, kiddo? Get home alright last night?”
“Yeah—sorry, had a little car trouble. Nothing I couldn’t handle, just set me back a little.”
“Cassie? Want me to check on her?”
“Nah, I’m alright. Just happy to be back in my bedroom.”
After a moment he looks up at Abby, hand still resting on the girl’s shoulder. “Oh, Abby—have you met my niece?”
Her brain starts running faster than she can keep up with it, and she feels a pallor crash over her. Tommy’s niece, which makes this girl...
“Ellie!”
Joel strolls in, holding up a white paper bag that’s stained with grease from whatever’s inside. “Got breakfast on my way in. You want the bacon or the sausage?”
“Whatever, you pick.”
Joel unrolls the bag and pulls out a sandwich wrapped in paper, handing it to Ellie before pulling out another to toss in Tommy’s direction. He catches it midair, and then Joel turns to Abby, hand emerging from the bag, and—
The breakfast sandwich smells good at least, when it smacks her in the chest and falls to the desk.
Joel laughs a little, taking the last sandwich from the bag and unwrapping it. “You alright, Abs?”
She’s not sure what to say.
The girl, Ellie, looks a little too smug as she grins at Abby from across the room.
"...yeah. Late night." Abby crosses her arms and shifts her weight, eyeing Ellie from across the room as nonchalantly as she can manage. She's not even sure what to think, what to feel right now. Anger? Betrayal, from this girl who was all but a stranger to her?
No, she's not a stranger, Abby thinks as she looks down at the ground and starts running her tongue over her teeth. This is Joel's daughter, top of her engineering class, her art lining the walls of Joel's home—he even has a photo of the two of them in his wallet. Going off to college, joining the girl's volleyball team, competitions won, Abby's (vaguely) heard it all secondhand over beers with Joel and Tommy. Most of it she forgot about immediately after the conversations ended, but now bits and pieces of the mysterious Ellie are coming back to her.
Fuck. He's even got a photo of her on his fireplace mantle, doesn't he?
Abby really needs to start paying attention to things.
"You can take off early if you need—I know you've been pulling some late nights. I owe you a drink for all that, I know."
"You owe me a six-pack, old man." Abby sits back down in her office chair, pulling the service manual back into her lap. Whatever this emotion is, Abby would sure like to brute force it out of herself by getting lost under the hood of the old Ford sitting in their service bay.
Eventually she hears Joel and Tommy's conversation go out the door with them, into the garage. She feels the desk creak beneath her as Ellie sits on the surface, leaning back with her legs spread to encroach on as much of Abby's desk as she possibly can. She's still giving Abby that fucking smirk, like she can read Abby's mind, like this has turned out better than devised.
"Hi."
Abby looks up at her wordlessly, glowering with an upward stare. After a moment she sits back into her chair, crossing her arms. She sees Ellie's eyes dart around to check out Abby's arms, and she can't help but find it amusing. Not amusing enough for Abby to handwave her little stunt, but it's cute at least. She gets this leering reaction sometimes from girls. Only sometimes she uses it to her advantage.
Ellie sticks her hand out. There's a black bracelet tied around her wrist and silver rings on two fingers, her nails trimmed and maintained. "I'm Ellie."
Abby huffs a little. "Yeah, I got that."
Ellie is shamelessly checking her out by now, chewing on her lower lip before she accepts that Abby isn't going to shake her hand. Glancing around the desk, she plucks a pen from Abby's Navy mug and flips it in her hand. She looks down at the service manual and starts writing in one of the margins. She only writes a phone number, some lines drawn over multiple times as the shitty ballpoint refuses to work right. Next to it she draws a little heart, scribbling to fill it in. Abby should probably object, she knows—this manual belongs to the shop, after all. It's going to go back into the stock room with the shelves of massive service manuals Joel refuses to digitize. Who knows how long it would even take someone to find this little note, written on a random page of a random book, shelved among hundreds?
With that, Ellie winks and stands from the desk, meandering towards the door as she pushes her hair back.
Looking down at the number, Abby presses her lips together and sits in silence for a moment. She can still hear Joel and Tommy yapping away in the service bay, some vague semblance of a casual argument she can't quite make out. Ellie's voice chimes into the conversation, but Abby can't tell who she's agreeing with.
Glancing up periodically the door, she pulls her phone out of her jumpsuit pocket and adds the number to her phone. She pauses before entering the contact name, looking back in Ellie's direction before she enters it.
Cassie.
Slamming the manual shut, she stands and stalks towards the stock room, catching a glimpse of Ellie through the blinds. Hopefully nobody needs the OEM manual for a 1986-1996 Ford Bronco anytime soon.
God, she really should have put the pieces together sooner.
HIIIII SORRY I HAVENT POSTED ANYTHING IN TEN TRILLION YEARS!!! this is a collaboration with my dear friend renegade_reaper on AO3, who's written another installment in this universe! that fic is on AO3 here, and we both plan to add more to this series! (they're also on tumblr at @renywrites and they're amazing and sweet!!!)
Feel free to say hi or drop your thoughts in my askbox, check out my AO3 or my about me if you're interested! Dividers are from @pixopix!
"You should create for yourself" and "it's okay to feel discouraged when creating your own original projects if no one interacts with them" are two sentences that should be able to co-exist with each other
On the one hand, you should kill that capitalist in your head that tells you to make art only for the enjoyment of other people. On the other hand, it's totally fine to be disappointed that you spent hours or even days on something that only got 4 notes. You can feel both ways.
the number 1 rule of fanfic is have fun and be yourself. the number 2 rule is the average healthy adult male can lose roughly 2 liters of blood before dying.
Chapter XXIV: The Monster (Work length ~1.4k)
This work is rated M for canon-typical violence and gore. Please look here for a full list of warnings for the series, specific warnings will be provided at the start of each chapter.
This chapter contains: no significant content warnings.
Previous Chapter - Full Series
Abby
“You’re getting closer to where you were.” Lev comments idly. He’s working down her upper back, his deft hands twisting strands of hair into place. Abby’s capable of braiding her own hair, but it’s never quite right. It never stays in place, never tight enough, never even. Lev seems to enjoy when she asks him for help. Maybe the motions of it are nostalgic. Maybe he just likes being helpful. He’s sitting up against the headboard, Abby sitting in front of him with her legs crossed, fiddling with the hair tie in her hand. It’s one of her last ones—she’ll have to keep an eye out for more. Ellie might have a supply.
It’s been hard hiding something like this from Lev, both logistically and emotionally. It’s only been a few days and she’s already running out of excuses to leave the room for hours at a time, especially overnight. If she’s lucky, she can slip out when he’s asleep, but that’s easier said than done. Not only that, but part of her needs to discuss this with someone. Her thoughts, her fears, the giddiness that’s invaded her consciousness every time she remembers. If there’s anyone she’d want to talk about this with, it’s him.
But for all the ways it’s been hard, it’s been so easy. She never thought it could be this easy to curl up with Ellie, fall asleep beside her, to feel safe in her presence. Of course, she never thought about it at all. The idea of it was so unthinkable, Ellie on a bloodstained pedestal in her mind Abby couldn’t bring herself to touch. All of this has felt like a dream, pleasantly hazy and absurd in equal measure. She can imagine herself some years ago waking up, turning to Lev and saying you’re never going to guess who I kissed in my dream.
She wouldn’t even have known what to call her.
Pale fingers wiggle in the corner of her vision. She mindlessly lifts the hair tie and lets Lev take it.
Once she feels the braid fall onto her back, she raises her hand to feel along the ridges of it. “Pretty good at this.”
“Took me forever to get the hang of it. It’s a lot easier to do on someone else.” He’s tilting his head at her when she turns around to face him. “I always forget how light your hair actually is. I usually see it dirty.”
“God, it’s so nice to get a real shower. You’re gonna love it.” Abby stands from the bed, stretching her arms out in front of her with a groan. Lev is shifting himself back under the covers.
“I’m excited to do anything but read and sleep.”
Abby presses her lips together, shrugging. “Hey, Christmas is coming up. Maybe you’ll get something cool.”
“Yeah, maybe.” His voice is almost sarcastic, like the idea is a joke they’re both in on. She frowns. It didn’t take long for Abby to realize Lev had never received a real Christmas present. This will be their third Christmas together, and so far all she’s managed to get him is a good lighter and a can of peaches. This year, things are a little different.
She glances up at the clock. It’s almost eleven, snow gathering on the windowsill. When she turns back to Lev, he’s yawning and adjusting his pillow. “I’m gonna head downstairs. Not really tired yet—gonna try to get a workout in.”
Lev turns to her, raising an eyebrow. “You can work out up here, if you want. I don’t mind.”
“Nah, I’d rather have the space in the living room. I don’t want to keep you awake anyway.” She smiles weakly, stepping towards the door. “Don’t know how long I’ll be.”
Lev stares at her for a moment before nodding, his eyes already drifting shut. She’s used this excuse already, but it’s the most realistic thing he would buy.
When she steps out of the room and shuts the door behind her, she takes a few steps away and pauses in the middle of the hallway. It feels wrong to lie to him, but she can’t seem to stop. She doesn’t want to stop.
She raps her knuckles gently against the door, her other hand resting on the knob as she waits for a response. It feels like her heart is in her throat until Ellie speaks up, just barely loud enough to hear.
“Come in.”
When Abby cracks the door open, she glances back over her shoulder before squeezing through. She’s learned by now that the door creaks if she opens it too wide. Lev probably wouldn’t notice, and he probably wouldn’t bring it up, but she doesn’t want to take the risk.
Ellie’s right where Abby left her. In bed, ankle elevated with a bag of snow and a book in her hand. It looks beat to hell, dogeared and tearing at the edges. The bulk of the book is bent backwards to fit comfortably in one hand, folded nearly in half. It’s resting on Ellie’s hip as she watches Abby enter the room, head tilted against the pillow. She smiles almost imperceptibly as the door clicks shut, letting the book shut with only her thumb keeping her place. “Hey. Come here often?”
Abby shrugs and saunters toward the bed. “Sometimes. This one girl keeps hitting on me every time I come around.” She circles the bed, crossing her arms.
“She have a shot, or are you just looking for someone to stroke your ego?”
Her hand is brushing down over the comforter when she pauses to process the words. It’s only a moment before she resumes movement, crawling onto the bed and propping herself up. Ellie seems to leave her flustered so easily. Another thing she didn’t anticipate was Ellie being so…smooth might not be the right word, but she can’t think of a better one.
“Not sure yet.” She inches closer to Ellie, pressing into her side and resting a hand on her hip. “What’re you reading?”
Ellie looks down to the book in her hand and holds it up for Abby to see. Frankenstein is branded across the top, over what looks like a drawing of the monster haunting its creator. It’s been one of Abby’s favorites for years. She’s had a few copies over the years, some lost, some destroyed, some lent out and never returned. “It’s pretty good. Taking me a while to get through it though—kinda hard not to zone out while I read it.”
“Yeah, some of these older books are like that.”Abby lifts her hand from Ellie’s hip to take the book, tucking her fingers into the page Ellie had been saving. She holds the book open, scanning the passage for something she recognizes. “How far are you?”
“Chapter 16, I think. The monster’s confronting Victor.”
Ellie’s looking up at her. She can’t really sit herself up without help, not with her rib still healing, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Her eyes are half-lidded, watching Abby as she seems to fight off sleep.
“For some days I haunted the spot where these scenes had taken place; sometimes wishing to see you, sometimes resolved to quit the world and its miseries forever.” Ellie doesn’t move, blinking slowly up at Abby as she reads aloud. “At length I wandered towards these mountains, and have ranged through their immense recesses, consumed by a burning passion which you alone can gratify.”
As she continues down the page, she shifts into a more comfortable position, letting Ellie scoot closer. Eventually, she tucks her arm under Ellie’s shoulders to hold the book with both hands. Her head is resting on Abby’s chest, peering up at the pages from between Abby’s arms holding the book. She still blinks wearily, melting into Abby more and more the longer she reads.
As they sink into the mattress together, it gets harder and harder for her to focus on the page. She knows this story well, which makes it a little easier to let her eyes drift off the page. Ellie’s tucked between her arm and her chest, hands fiddling with the comforter, tracing paths of thread. From here, just inches away, her hair leans red in the warm lamplight. Maybe it’ll be more obvious when summer comes and the sun brings her freckles back. Maybe Abby will get to see it.
“It is true, we shall be monsters, cut off from all the world; but on that account we shall be more attached to one another.”
IM SORRY IM WORKING ON STUFF I PROMISE!!! ILY ALL!!!!!
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Series Taglist: @a-little-bit-of-everybody @metallw @yoursimhannah @tohoko
sub this dom that. what if they are both completely chained to their devotion to each other. they’re rendered powerless by it. nobody is driving the bus.
