Your fingers knitted into her sheets, basking in the moment as your girlfriend whispered praises into the shell of your ear. Your head tilted to the side whenever she dipped down to murmur something else—words that shot straight to your core.
You shifted against the pillow beneath you, muffling your mewls in a weak attempt (and failing) to not disturb her housemates.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” you heard her mumble under her breath.
Then, you felt it—the small loss of warmth as one of her hands lifted from your hips. Naturally, you raised your head, expecting another tug on your hair followed by her telling you how pretty you were or how well you were taking her.
But the flush creeping over your skin was quickly replaced by slow realization. This time, she wasn’t talking about you. Of course not.
Your gaze flickered to the wall mirror near her creaking bed, polaroids of you two tucked in the corner.
Sure enough, there she was; flexing her arm, eyes locked on her own reflection, hips still snapping into the plush of your backside at a steady pace. Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip, curved upward.
You rolled your eyes, glancing over your shoulder at her, unamused as this was Not the first time.
Abby caught your stare. “What—yeah, you too,” she rushed out, quickly dropping her arm to press her palm against the small of your back, like that would somehow undo everything.
With a small push of your hand against her abdomen, you separated yourself from her.
“Babe—where are you going?” she called out, throwing her arms up. “Baby! I was admiring us! Together—”
She watched your figure retreat to her bathroom, a small half annoyed noise following.
“Caught in 4K, damn,” she muttered to herself with a laugh. “Nah, this is art,” she added quietly, lifting her arm once more while she waited for you to come back.
“You are such a distraction, Anderson.” She let out a low whistle, finally dropping back against the mattress, draping an arm over her eyes as she caught her breath.
Fuckboy abby! Save us Fuckboy abby! Save us Fuckboy abby! Save us Fuckboy abby! Save us x100
FB! Abby Drabble
࣪𖤐.ᐟ Warnings: Fuckboy! Abby, sexual tension,..raw next question. 1.5k words, Quarter back x cheerleader trope.
࿔ A/n: Based on these asks.
You wanted to go home, wash your makeup off, and throw yourself on your sheets. Yet here you sat, in the middle of a frat party. You hated events like these, especially sober. The booming bass in your ears, the humid, almost sticky air on your skin. The way-too-bright lights and, worse, the students falling over each other. Why do you let your friends drag you along? No clue. But as part of the cheer team, skipping meant endless nagging in the group chat, and you weren’t in the mood for that. You never were.
After settling into the living room, you figured a joint would help you zone out until, Dina, and the rest of your ride were ready to leave. At some point in the night, you found yourself face to face with a semi-familiar presence: campuses one and only Abby Anderson.
She’d been throwing looks your way all night. You knew her type. Kissing and quitting. And you weren’t interested. But Abby found her way onto the couch next to you, striking up conversation like it was effortless. Of course it was calculated, but you indulged her, partly anyway.
At least you didn’t want to be anyway.
𖤐.Unbeknownst to you, though, you were judging this 6’0-something book by her cover. If you’d really been paying attention, which is impossible to do considering how well she covered it up. But The gym, practice, study, sleep cycle kept her sane, gave her something to focus on. And it worked, until you. Until freshman move-in day, when she saw you for the first time and brushed it off as just another pretty girl on campus. But then she found herself lingering on your social media, scrolling a little too long, just…staring at certain pictures. And when she saw some of her teammates following you, her upper lip twitched in irritation.
𖤐.She avoided you after that. Acted like you didn’t exist, because it was easier than dealing with the way you made her heart hammer against her ribs. The way she wanted you. The way you got under her skin without even trying. But when she saw you tonight, she told herself fuck it. If you weren’t going to make a move, she would.
A few jokes exchanged, a couple of lingering glances, and then, somehow her fingers found their way under your chin, tilting your face toward hers. Your breath caught. Her grip was firm but gentle enough for you to wiggle away from, almost like she was seeing what you’d do.
She was close. Inches away. Heat radiating off her body. So close that you could see the defined collarbones peeking through the neckline of her jersey. Her gaze dragged over your features like she was committing them to memory, and when her blue eyes finally locked onto yours. You weren’t one to look away from eye contact easily, but this was like she was trying to find something.
The music pulsed around you, shifting into something by The Weeknd. Which was definitely not helping. The slower beat only made time stand still. You didn’t move. Why would you? She came over here, convinced you’d fold like every other girl who fell at her size 10 cleats.
But you weren’t going to. You couldn’t.
You were almost certain, though, that if she closed the gap, you’d 100% kiss her back. And that? That would be a problem. If she closed the distance you’d definitely tug her closer until the only thing you could smell was her. So instead, you rolled your eyes and leaned back, your hair spraying on the sofa. breaking the moment.
“You are such a pain in the ass,” Abby chuckled, her ego slightly bruised as her hand dropped from your chin. A dramatic lip smack followed.
“Because I don’t want to fuck you?” you said, taking a slow drag from your joint. “Or because I’m not entertaining you?”
“Shit, both.” She shrugged. She slapped herself mentally for not saying a different answer. She knew she was coming on way too strong but she knew nothing about you, and now was worried she wasn’t even your type to begin with. So now she had to double down.
“Especially the first one, though,” she added, dragging her eyes down your outfit before flicking back up to your face.
“Gross,” you scoffed, even though you definitely had the idea cross your mind once while she was sitting so close.
“Oh, you have no idea,” Abby huffed, tossing her head back against the couch. She let a beat of silence pass before turning to you again. “What’s your deal, anyway? You a prude? Or just straight?”
“What if I’m just not interested?” you shot back.
Her lips twitched, head tilting slightly as she studied you “You aren’t?” Something about the way she asked made your heart thud. Like you’d just challenged her. Or maybe, maybe you’d actually caught her off guard. Regardless You didn’t answer fast enough. Her grin widened, teeth showing, like she was reading your mind. Shit. Are you? No. No, of course you weren’t. But yeah, you’d let the silence stretch too long.
Abby hummed, turning her head back to the front. “Sure you aren’t,” she mused. Praying you’d correct her. Feeling her heart sink a little when it didn’t come. You were still trying to find a reply when Abby interrupted, almost like she couldn’t bear the silence.
“So,” she said, her voice still infuriatingly calm, “What’s your major? Or are you just here to shake your little pom-poms?” Abby hated to admit it, but she was actually trying to make conversation with you now. Her first approach clearly wasn't the way to go. Sure, she could just be nice and drop the act, but that would be lame. This is more fun.
You furrowed your brows at her comment before realizing you were still in uniform. A laugh ripped out of you as you replied with your major. “And I won’t be shaking anything, thank you.” You added, taking another slow drag.
That actually got her attention. She tilted her head back to give you a once-over, arching an eyebrow. She repeated your major like she was testing the word on her tongue. “That’s…” A pause. She studied your face, trying to see if you were kidding before she shrugged. “Nerdy.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, would you rather me throw a ball around all day?” you huffed, rolling your eyes at her.
“Aww, you jealous, sweetheart?” Abby smirked, her tone dripping with mockery as she shifted closer on the couch. She was almost fully facing you now, her body angling toward yours.
You shook your head in amusement. “Fuck no, I’m not,” you mocked back, sing-songing the words. “Cute thought, though.”
It was Abby’s turn to roll her eyes, but the smirk on her face never fell. “You’re a real smartass, you know that?” She leaned back against the couch, draping an arm across the back, her fingertips inches from your shoulder.
“And you can’t take a hint,” you shot back, scanning her outfit as you took another drag.
“And you’re full of yourself,” she retorted, her eyes flicking toward your hand as you passed her the joint. Her fingers brushed yours as she took it, sending an involuntary shiver up your spine.
She hummed in acknowledgment, bringing the joint to her lips. A moment later, smoke curled from her mouth and nose. Her knee remained pressed against your thigh, solid and warm. “But if you’re gonna check me out, at least be subtle about it,” she teased, voice slightly gravelly from the smoke. She handed the joint back, her eyes glimmering with mischief.
You scoffed. “You wanted me to see you so bad, so I’m doing that. You complaining now?”
Abby exhaled sharply, a quiet laugh. “Holy hell, you’re annoying.” But her gaze lingered, on your face, on your lips, you.
“Yeah?” A slow smile spread across your face. “Good. Maybe you’ll run a play and leave.” You jabbed, gesturing to another couch.
She glanced over then back to you. “You wish.” Abby flashed another grin.
You let out a short laugh. “I’m not taking the bait.”She smirked, her confidence unshaken. You looked away and continued “You are tempting, though. I won’t lie.”
Abby’s smirk widened, like she’d been waiting for that. She moved her arm from the back of the couch, fingertips lightly grazing your shoulder, then trailing down your bare arm. Her touch left a warm path in its wake. “Just tempting?” she asked, her stomach twisting. Her eyes flicked down to your lips, the tip of her tongue wetting her own.
You glanced at her hand on your arm and sighed dramatically. “Just. Tempting,” you confirmed, shifting your gaze back to her face. Her hair draped across the couch, the school’s blue jersey stretching over her broad shoulders. “You’ll survive, though.”
Abby hummed, tilting her head to look up at you fully. Her hair fell messily across her forehead, and her eyes danced with a mix of amusement and something else..maybe a hint of genuine interest?
“Just survive?” she echoed, fingers continuing their light, teasing trail down your arm. She moved closer, the gap between you nearly nonexistent. “What if I want more than surviving?”
You didn’t move. Didn’t let her see you sweat. “Not about you,” you mused, setting the joint in the ashtray. “This is my show, girly.”
Abby chuckled, the sound sending another shiver through you. Her fingers skimmed higher, tracing the side of your neck.
“Oh yeah? You’re in charge?” she murmured. Her other hand came to rest on your hip. gentle, but almost possessive. Her thumb brushed slow circles over the bone there.
You rolled your eyes but didn’t pull away. Instead, you raised a hand, catching her chin between your fingers and pulling her just a fraction closer. “I am. And I said this ain’t happening. So knock it off, Anderson.”
Abby’s smirk faltered for just a second, her breath hitching—but she didn’t pull back. If anything, she leaned in, just slightly, her gaze steady on yours.
“Ooo, bossy,” she muttered, voice quieter now. There was a certain edge to it, though, like she didn’t actually mind. Her grip on your hip tightened, her thumb still tracing slow, lazy circles. Her eyes flickered between your lips and your eyes. “I’m starting to like it” she added.
And you hated the way your stomach flipped when she scooted even closer…
Cowgirl Abby! who ties your wrist with her lasso and tugs on it when you are squirming too much when she’s pounding— 😩
Cowgirl Abby! Who calls you ‘sweet thing’ as a petname
Cowgirl Abby! Who since she works with her hands has a small obsession with her hands and under her fingernails being clean.
Cowgirl Abby! Who always offers to help you with your chores even when she’s wore from doing her own.
Cowgirl Abby! Who always adjust your hat for you. Once it’s fixed she’ll stand back and nod “better” she’d say with her hands on her hips. (She just wanted a excuse to be close to you)
Cowgirl Abby! Who blushes when you compliment her hair down and free from its braid. “Didn’t feel braidin it is all” (she just wants your eyes to be on her)
knuckles wrapped, a second skin of bandages soaked with the memory of harsh punches. The jet black hair, new and darker than before, fell messily around her face. Her back tattoo was hidden under the faded tank top, but she could feel it, the weight of the meaning of the ink on her skin. A portrait of what she’d lost. She carried it with her, always.
The pit always reeked of sweat, blood, and alcohol, or desperation. The heat pressed in from every side, a suffocating feeling. Bodies packed together, their faces lit by the lights hanging above, the heat causing a bead of sweat. It was the usual crowd, rowdy, ready for a show, but none of that mattered to Abby. She didn’t care about the noise, the smell, or the grimy underbelly of this place. She just needed the fight. To hit something, someone. Whatever idiot would be brave enough.
But she wasn’t thinking about any of that when she felt her eyes land on her.
You. Fuck.
For a second, Abby froze. The noise around her blurred. She didn’t want to look, didn’t want to be caught looking. Didn’t want to meet your gaze, but before she could stop them, they were snapping toward you. You were standing across the pit, just at the edge of the crowd. There was no mistaking the way her chest tightened when their gaze locked. She hadn’t expected to see you again, not here. Not like this.
What are you doing here?
Her jaw clenched. She almost turned away and walked out before you noticed her, but her feet stayed planted to the spot. Abby couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this exposed. The past few months had been a blur of anger, distraction, and fights, anything to numb the hurt. But seeing you again, in a pit of all places… It felt like someone had just torn open a new wound.
Your lips moved, and for a second, Abby didn’t even hear the words. She was too busy staring, too busy wondering if this was real or if it was just some fucking dream.
“New look …suits you.” You said, scanning over her. “Bit intense, though.”
Her lips twitched. Intense. Yeah, that was the word for it. She could feel the weight of her own body, every bruise, every broken piece of her, and it all felt like it was on display now.
“Yeah?” She shifted her weight, rolling a shoulder, trying to shrug off the growing pit in her stomach. “What can I say? You always said I had a thing for dramatic.”
The words crawled their way out. Like she wasn’t standing there in front of the person who had seen her at her weakest. This was fine; she doesn’t care. It doesn't matter anymore. But if she was being honest with herself… it still did. Months later.
She crossed her arms over her chest, just to make sure her hands stayed put. Keep it together. For her. For everyone else. She couldn’t let you see how much this hurt, even after everything. Watching your eyes scan over her “bloodhound” tattoo on her forearm.
“Don’t like it?” she added, tilting her head, trying to keep the cool distance.
This is a silly draft, based on this tweet! (But make it Abby)
Mlist
The bass-heavy thrum of music pulses through the dimly lit bar, weaving between the laughter and faint chitchat of the crowd. This place is packed, you thought. Between the neon lights reflecting off half-empty glasses and slightly sticky tabletops, it was kind of cozy.
Even if the air smells like spilled liquor, a clatter of mixed perfumes, and the wafting bite of cigarette smoke from the patio. You sighed deeply knowing you’d have to rewash your hair to get the smells stuck once you returned home.
At one corner of the bar, a group of femmes huddle close. Among them, you adjust the straps of your fishnet stockings beneath your shorts, sipping a vodka cranberry. Though your eyes kept flickering towards the pool table. You inconspicuously pretended to roll your neck to get a better look at the figure of your attention.
“Oh, she’s pretty…” you thought, scanning over what you could see from your seat. Still trying to be subtle and not stare like a weirdo.
toward the pool table, where a tall, broad-shouldered butch in a fitted tank top and cargo pants leans against the edge, laughing with her small pack of friends. You watched as her arm flexed slightly to adjust her grip on the cue stick. Slightly lowering her body to get a good shot, she looks so focused…cute.
Once you realized how long you had been staring You quickly turned back to your friends, pretending your gaze wasn't lingering. Mentally slapping yourself.
“Ooo, who are you looking at?” One of your friends says, trying to follow your now abandoned gaze.
“What? Pfft, no one.” Yeah, that was totally convincing. Not.
You earned a few laughs at the obvious lie, going back to your previous conversation. You, feeling a little embarrassed for looking so hard, kept your gaze forward. Doing your best to be engaged in the conversation in front of you.
When suddenly, while sitting, your fishnets brush against warm skin and a rough texture, pulling you backwards a little.
Snag
Abby halts mid-step, confusion flashing across her face as she tries to move, but something tugs against her thigh.
"What the—" you say, a little startled from the sudden pull, grabbing the end of the table to stabilize yourself so you didn’t hit the floor.
She turns, and that's when she sees it: your fishnets are hooked onto her carabiner. She glances down at the sudden resistance and then back up, amusement flickering across her face. How silly.
"Oh," Abby says, fighting back a grin.
You immediately move to free it, but she beats you to it, insisting apologetically.
"Oh—hold on, I got it."
Her hands are rough, but surprisingly gentle as she tries to work the fabric loose. You feel your cheeks burn, her fingers lingering a moment too long over the frayed edge of the hole in your fishnets. The smell of her soap filling your senses.
"Sorry about that." Abby murmurs, finally untangling your fishnets from her belt.
When she fully stood in front of you, you couldn’t help but scan over her a little more before replying.
“No worries.” A small smile and wave of your hand followed. You spot another small grin on the woman in front of you as she leans against the bar, seemingly eyeing your fishnets.
"…Those are cute, by the way," she says, a hint of approval in her voice. She motions towards your shorts and the exposed length of thigh underneath.
"They…look good on you."
“Yeah? Thank you. I’d say the same, but your outfit was just attacking me,” you joked, feeling a bit more confident than before. This wasn't so bad.
She grinned and looked down at her carabiner and pants.
“Hey, it’s not my fault your fishnets have a thing for my gear,” she replies, followed by a huffed laugh.
hellooo could u ever do an Abby x sensitive/crybaby reader?? like the reader is just so in touch w her emotions and to abby it’s the cutest thing ever
awwww yes! Ty for the request 💐
Cw: death, grief, girlfriend Abby! , WLF base setting, rip Alice, yes I changed her cause of death! She went peacefully in my head (I’m delusional)
Her Crybaby
You were poking around in Abby’s neatly organized things, waiting for her to finish her usual long shower after a workout at the base’s gym.
That’s when you stumbled upon a photo. A small, slightly faded Polaroid that caught your full attention.
It was a picture of a fluffy brown-and-black German shepherd, ears perked and tail caught mid-wag, blurry from its excited movement. Abby was kneeling beside the dog, one hand gently scratching behind its ears. Her back was facing the camera but you could feel the gummy smile that you knew was on her face. The way she looked , so unguarded, such a sweet moment captured. it tugged deep on your heart strings.
Oh, this is too cute, you thought. But as your eyes lingered on the image, you felt a pang of something heavier. This wasn’t just any dog. This had to be Alice.
You couldn’t look away from it, you ran your fingers along the dulled edges of the photo. Abby had told you about Alice before, the loyal companion she’d lost to old age. she spoke about how Alice had been her constant through so much chaos before you two met. You continued to poke around in her room, purely out of curiosity and a splash of boredom as she likes to take long showers.
Once the scent of pine grew stronger from underneath the door, a towel draped over her shoulders. Her damp brown hair clung to her neck, unbraided and her skin a hint red from the heat of the shower. When she spotted you sitting on the bunk, her brows knitted together slightly.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice soft as she crossed the room.
You held up the photo, your gaze shifting between it and her. “I found this,” you murmured, your voice cracking just slightly. “You look so happy… and Alice… she looked so sweet…happy.”
Abby’s expression softened as she sat beside you, the bed dipping under her weight. She took the photo from your hand, her thumb brushing over the image as a small, wistful smile played on her lips.
“She was sweet,” Abby said, her voice quiet. “The best.”
Tears welled up in your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you said, sniffling. “I just… I can’t imagine how much you must miss her. She meant a lot to you.”
Abby looked at you, her smile growing, though it was tinged with sadness. “She did,” she said, setting the photo aside. “But I’ve got you now. And you’re pretty damn great too.”
That was all it took for the tears to spill over. Abby chuckled softly, wrapping her arm around you and pulling you into her side. “You’re such a crybaby,”
this request was siting. I’m sorry my creative juices weren’t flowing but! What about both? (Note! I have 0 knowledge on this so bear with me for sake of the story.)
Giddy up, buttercup!
Trainers daughter x rider! Abby- Drabble
M.list
Abby Anderson had spent her whole life in the saddle. With a father like Jerry Anderson—a decorated equestrian champion—it was practically in her blood. Riding was second nature, a place where she could push herself, clear her head, and make her dad proud. Especially now, when the grief of losing her mother still pressed against her ribs like a too-tight cinch.
Here, at Blue Ridge Riding Academy, one of the best equestrian schools in the country, Abby was in her element. She had structure. Discipline. Control.
Only problem? You.
Her trainer’s daughter.
God, you were such a distraction. And Abby wasn’t one to get thrown off her game easily. But the first time she saw you? Talk about swept off her feet, literally.She lost focus. just for a second. But a second was all it took. One misstep, one shift in balance, and suddenly, she SPLAT was on her ass in the dirt, staring up at the sky while her horse snorted in disapproval.
Of course, it had to be in front of you.
Friends, Nora and Manny never let her live it down.
Now, weeks later, she caught herself doing it again. Blue eyes flicking toward you as you leaned against the fence, chatting with your dad. She forced herself to focus, to tighten the cinch on her saddle, but the damage was already done.
“She’s looking again,” Manny muttered.
“Obviously.” Nora sighed, shoving open the dorm room door. “Will you just talk to her already?”
Abby kicked off her boots, scowling. “Not happening.”
Manny smirked. “What, you don’t think she noticed you eating dirt last week?”
Abby launched a boot at his head. He dodged, laughing.
“Look, Anderson,” Nora said, flopping onto her bed. “Either you talk to her, or we start a betting pool on how many times you embarrass yourself before you grow a pair.”
Abby groaned, running a hand down her face. This was ridiculous. She’d faced brutal training regimens, competitions, broken bones. but apparently, you were the one thing she couldn’t handle.
Hiii!!! could you do somethijg like a gym date w abby??? i loveeee your work
Ahhhh! And ily for reading! 💐 enjoy your mini gym date!
Sweaty kisses 💋 - Gym Abby!
The local gym in the evening, just as the sun dips below the horizon. The warm, orangey glow from the large floor-to-ceiling windows highlights Abby’s form perfectly. She’s wearing a tank top that clings to her frame and joggers that hang low on her hips. You do your best to focus on her pointers, but it’s hard not to get distracted. You felt mesmerized each time her muscles would flex or tense.
“Abs, You didn’t tell me this was going to be some kind of military boot camp. I thought this was supposed to be a date.”
“What, you thought I’d let you off easy? This is a date. Quality time, sweat, and maybe a little suffering..ya know, the full package.”
“Remind me why I agreed to this again?”
“Hmm, probably Because you can’t resist me.”
You two chat and do your best to keep up with her as she moves throughout her routine with much struggle. You seemed to be more of a motivation than distraction. She’d shoot winking in your direction when you went to rest after a rep. After awhile you found yourself leaning on another machine while she demonstrated a deadlift without breaking a sweat.
“See? Easy. Your turn” She smiled and took a deep breath
“Easy for you, Hulk. I’m not built like a brick wall.”
“Gonna that as a compliment. Come on, I’ll guide you through it.” She laughed and reassured. Gesturing for you to take her spot on the mat
Once you hesitantly took her spot. You bent down trying to recreate her posture from earlier. Once you settled, She steps behind you to correct your form, hands lightly adjusting the posture.
“There, back straight… good. Now, lift with your legs. You’ve got this.”
“If I drop this, it’s on you.” You rolled your eyes.
“If you drop it, I’ll catch it.” She said half serious
Once you successfully lift the bar, you hear Abby clap lightly. Clearly Feeling proud.
“Look at you! Told you you could do it.”
“Okay, but next time, we’re doing my idea of a date.”
“What’s that, painting each other’s nails?”
“Don’t tempt me, we will.”
“Alright, deal…But first, you’ve got five more reps.”You groaned and got back into position
“I take back every nice thing I’ve ever said about you.”
Abby chuckled at your dramatic comment “No, you don’t.” “Now, begin”
——-
After the session was over you were sore and a bit breathless. However, seeing her also wore down brought you comfort, you there an arm around her shoulder with a lazy smile on your face.
“You better not tell anyone how much I complained.”
“Don’t worry, it’s our little secret.” She teased and pressed a kiss on your temple.
