꒰ Warnings:꒱ Sexual content, Name-calling & language , oral in a bar bathroom (so classy, I know), Reader is bitchy, Mentioned height difference, Vi has a tongue piercing, Pet names. Angsty-ish.
꒰ A/n: ꒱ HAPPY 400!! (Someone grab the confetti!) Rockstar!Vi oneshot since she won the poll. Aka: a run-in with a face you don’t recognize… until the next morning. Around 5k words
“There she is,” the familiar warm tone said the moment you stepped into the building. she sat, gold eyeshadow reflecting over her eyelids as they opened a bit more to take you in. Growing up together, and still stuck like glue, Mel waved you over to her booth.
The fresh scent of espresso and warm pastries wafted through the air of the café as your shoes clicked across the floor. You couldn’t help but think how much more comfortable these were than last night’s.
“Here I am,” you confirmed, leaning down to hug her side before sitting across from her. “God, I’m starving. Can I?” You reached for the croissant on her small plate.
She pushed it toward you, laughing. “Besides the hair, you look suspiciously well-rested for somebody who said they had a ‘crazy night’ and promised details.” She mused, tapping her finger on the table.
You leaned back on the red-cushioned booth. “Oh, trust me. It was crazy.” You nodded, still chewing, covering your mouth as you spoke. Not missing the anticipation in her tone.
Outside the large windows, the city continued to spring to life. The occasional beep of a yellow taxi horn and incessant chatter seemed to fade into the background as you began to describe your night, with the occasional interruption from Mel trying to get way too many details. You jokingly told her you’d record it for her next time, and she seemed way too intrigued by the idea. But her burst of laughter after reassured you she was joking as always, insisting that you needed to loosen up.
Then, suddenly, you noticed her brown eyes flicker to something past your shoulder. It didn’t catch your attention at first; she was always nosy and hyper-aware of her surroundings. But when her eyes narrowed and her head tilted slowly back to you, your eyebrow raised, and you nodded for her to speak, stopping your previous conversation.
“Now, this might be a longshot,” she squinted slightly, lips pressing together in thought. “But what color did you say her hair was again?”
“Black with, like, highlights. Why?” You blinked. “And who are—” You tilted your head in curiosity, following her gaze to the decorative wall behind you.
A tour poster was plastered across the bulletin board near the café entrance, glossy and bold, listing cities and dates beneath an unmistakable face. Messy undercut. Sharp jawline. A cocky expression even in still laminated print.
Vi. Your hometown was listed for the 22nd to the 26th. Today was the last day. “Holy shit.” You let out a breathy laugh, half in disbelief, half in realization.
Mel’s eyes widened as she studied your reaction. No way. That’s not—”
“Yeah…” You exhaled, shaking your head as a ridiculous, almost nervous laugh bubbled out. “That is her.”
“Details. Now. Right. Now,” Mel demanded, her eyes gleaming as she set her tea down with a clink. Hands clasped.
You rolled your eyes, but the smirk on your lips gave you away. “Oh, settle down.”
“Don’t tell me to settle down, tell me what happened!” She shook her head and leaned forward.
“Okay , okay!” You sighed, as you drummed your fingers against the table. “Well, You had just called me about being late when…”
── ── ☆ That night, ☆ ── ──
The moonlight cast shadows behind you, cool air drifting over your arms as the clacking of your heels echoed down the sidewalk. As the clock ticked and the moon rose, you realized you were definitely going to be later than intended. Not that you wanted to go anyway—loud music, your friends dragging you around the reserved VIP section, and way too many pictures to pose for. You knew you were being a negative Nancy about it—at least, that’s what Mel had said over the phone.
“Where are you? Everyone is already here.”
Mel’s voice was almost drowned out by the bass on the other line, the party clearly in full swing. You held the phone up to your ear, your clutch in your other hand. You knew you should’ve gotten up earlier, but those extra minutes of sleep had been way too tempting. It was a mutual friend’s 21st, so naturally, everyone wanted to dress up and go out. In your defense, though, this was all last minute.
“I’m a few blocks away. There was absolutely no parking.” You replied.
One truth and a lie. Whoops. There wasn’t any parking, but you were definitely farther than just a few blocks. Pushing a few strands of hair out of your face, you glanced down at the blue lettering of the GPS on your dim phone screen—still a few minutes until you arrived. Downtown was always like this, even while the city slept.
Mel kept talking, trying to explain something about a potential shortcut, but you could barely make out a word she was saying. You jerked the phone away from your ear every time she yelled when you asked her to repeat herself. As much as you loved her, she was definitely the time police between the two of you—sometimes helpful, other times just plain annoying.
The neon glow of different bars, shops, even that overpriced café Mel had been begging you to go to, cast vibrant hues against the pavement behind you as you clicked your way around another corner.
The light on the crosswalk was just barely counting down before you’d have to wait for God knows how long. You quickly hung up on Mel, telling her you’d call her back later.
Glancing around, you saw only distant cars on the opposite street, the environment eerily quiet.
The point of your red heel rested flat as you stepped past the traffic light pole, walking onto the rigid, faded lines of the crosswalk. Not to be snobby, but the city could definitely use a small revamp. Potholes, cracked sidewalks, and worn street lines seemed to go unnoticed in a place like this.
You glanced down at your phone, momentarily blinded by a strand of hair falling into your face, causing you to involuntarily pause for a moment. Just a few more minutes on the GPS. But before you could continue down—A rumbling sound. Fast. Way too close for comfort. Your breath caught as the gleam of a shiny dark vehicle reflected your figure in the middle of the crosswalk.
A muffled shout bled out from underneath the helmet of the individual guiding it down the street. Panic shot through you as you jerked back onto the sidewalk, just in time.
“What the hell!?” you shouted, your bag slipping from your hands and your phone clattering flat against the pavement.
The sound of skidding tires, the slam of brakes. The figure, clad in leather, barely stopped short of colliding with you. The bike skidded to a stop just a few feet away, the scent of burnt rubber lingering as the rider kicked down the stand. as she swung a leg over and straightened up, pulling off her helmet with a huff.
“Yeah, what the hell is right,” she shot back, tucking the helmet under her arm. “You got a death wish?”
“Excuse me?” Your head snapped up, eyes narrowing.
“You heard me,” she said, rolling her shoulders back like she was shaking off the near miss. “Crosswalks exist for a reason.”
You scoffed, dusting off your bag. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I inconvenience your little joyride?” Frowning at the scratches.
She huffed a dry laugh, finally giving you a once-over. one that started irritated but lingered just a second too long. “Yeah. And people cross the road when they see the walking man on the sign.” She pointed at the sign across from you, the little white figure glowing mockingly. “Not randomly whenever the hell they feel like it.”
“Are you serious right now?—” you deadpanned, exasperated. Then, with a saccharine smile, you added, “Thanks, officer. I’ll keep note of that.” You nodded, dripping with sarcasm.
Her eyes rolled, patience growing thinner as your fake smile made her blood boil. Her free hand gripped the leather of her jacket, resisting the urge to grab you by the collar and—
“Oh, ha-ha. You’re really a comedian, sweet cheeks.” She scoffed, stepping forward. Only a foot or two of space separated you now. God, you were prissy. Slightly taller, dressed in expensive, clean-knit clothing. Your eyes barely brushed over hers, dismissive. Plus the way you smelled—how could she even notice that at a time like this?
“Mm You liked that? Thanks, I’ll be here all night. Just gotta stay clear of idiots on death traps,” you jabbed, rolling your eyes like it was a competition—who could do it the most? Then, with a huff, you turned back to dust yourself off.
“Aww, you’re all worked up.” She remarked nonchalantly, watching your expression as you turned away from her. Prissy as hell, sure. But damn if you weren’t kinda (extremely) … cute. “And those ‘death traps’ are a hell of a lot more convenient than walking.”
“The conversation was over like five minutes ago,” you brushed her off, barely paying attention as you glanced at the WAIT sign. Sighing, already knowing you’d have to wait to cross again. “Have fun with that, though.”
“Conversation’s over?” She smirked, shifting her weight on her boots, clearly amused by your obvious desire to be done with her. “You just walkin’ around town for fun or something?” Her gaze flickered downward, taking in your jewelry, your makeup, your hair—all of it. She was obviously sizing you up, and you could tell.
“Stranger danger. Mind yours, lady.” You chuckled, waving her off with a well-polished nail.
“Oh, I’m definitely minding mine, sweetheart.” She shot back, ignoring the smirk threatening her poker face. Her gaze dropped to your nails, interest slipping through her snarky demeanor. “Got a hot date tonight or something?”
You sighed deeply, the heels on your feet turning to face her fully. “Unless you wanna cough up an apology, all this—” you gestured toward her mouth, referring to her talking “—needs to stop. Like, now. Thanks.”
Her smirk faltered, almost turning into a frown. You were bitchy, sure, and definitely stubborn. But now you weren’t backing down? She had to give you credit for that. “Apologize?” She mocked, tilting her head with an amused glint in her eyes. “Relax,, you survived. Besides, technically, you were in the way.”
“I looked before I crossed. You came out of thin air.” You huffed, eyes flickering over her jacket, her piercings, her tattoos—all in contrast to yourself. Then, catching yourself, you quickly looked back at her face. “Whatever. It’s fine.”
She noticed your gaze linger, noting how your eyes moved over her. She didn’t need a mirror to know how drastically different you two looked. But there you were, still talking to her. Leaning forward slightly, she wasn’t even sure why she was keeping this conversation going. “Then we’re done here.”
“Fantastic.” You sighed, arms crossed, waiting for the light to change. The “wait” sign glowing, taunting you.
This felt like a standoff—closed mouths but wandering minds. Raging thoughts that you pushed down, catching the way she kept glancing at your exposed legs just below the hem of your dress. Your usual defenses weren’t working on her. She’s … still here? Her attention had turned back to her phone, her lock screen flashing. Herself. Of course. It looked like she was… singing? Or maybe at some kind of concert—you couldn’t quite make it out before looking back across the street.
The crosswalk glowed: walk. Your eyes scanned the sign, feeling almost… disappointed? You shifted your weight, glancing at it, but didn’t move right away. Your feet felt molded to the pavement below your René Caovilla’s—shoes Mel had gifted you, seeming useless now. This wasn’t a game of freeze tag, but you were definitely stilled.
“Took long enough,” you muttered, trying to act like you hadn’t just hesitated to leave her side. You didn’t even know her, but the flutter in your gut made you not care in the moment.
You had to go through with it, of course you did. You promised to show your face tonight, got dressed, did your makeup. Your leg shifted, about to take that step—threatening to break the bubble that had built between you. The whole situation was bizarre. You were supposed to go to the party, look your best, do your thing. But something had kept you here. You shifted your weight, ready to take that step, only to be stopped by a familiar waft of perfume. The scent was stronger now. lingering in the air like a trail behind you. She was still there.
You glanced down at your phone, a full 30 minutes late now. Mel was going to murder you, but that concern seemed to fade when you looked back at Vi. She was on the phone, sighing as she hung up, seemingly about to leave. Something in you snapped, and you blurted out the words before you could stop them.
“I’ve changed my mind.”
She stopped, her leg coming back down from the curb. “About…?”
“I do want an apology. For you almost flattening me.” You added.
She rolled her eyes, about to shoot back with some sarcastic remark, but you interrupted her before she could.
“Not like that,” you said, cutting her off with a wave of your hand. You pointed across the street to the bar, “I want you to walk over there, and buy me a drink. That’s the apology I’m accepting.”
Vi blinked for a beat, caught off guard. Then, after a long pause, her voice returned, though this time it was softer.
“What?..I…” she opened her mouth to say more, then her gaze drifted over you and that outfit. “You always this prissy and bossy?” A slow smile curled on her lips.
“Maybe I enjoy it part-time,” you shot back, chin tilted just slightly upwards.
She huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head as she stubbed out her cigarette with the heel of her boot. “Charming,” she muttered, pushing off her bike. Then, with a heavy sigh, like she was pretending this was some great inconvenience. she finally gave in.
“Fine. One drink.”
One drink turned into three maybe four, this part is still fuzzy even when recounting to Mel. then Maybe it was the way you kept seeing her glance at your frame, maybe it was you tracing your fingers on the ends of her jacket sleeve, but Somehow, between biting comments and lingering glances, you’d both ended up here—pressed against the cool tile of the bar’s single-stall bathroom, Vi’s leather jacket hanging off one shoulder, your own clothes disheveled from her rushed hands. The smell of her was intoxicating, something woody, yet sweet. You couldn’t place it.
Her lips finding home along your collarbones.You let out a breathy laugh, fingers grazing over her exposed tattooed back. “Oh, so you do have an apology in you.” your eyes found hers, as they searched yours. Beyond just the color.
Vi smirked, lips just barely brushing yours. “Eh, I just wanted to shut you up.” her teeth tugging at it slightly as she’d mind wondered, wanting to feel those killer legs around her waist.
Your head leaned back further. “Oh really? I’m that bad?” Eyes fluttering closed when she nuzzled closer.
“Mmhm.” She grinned against your jaw, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss there. “Just insufferable, really. Extremely bitchy” She was mocking you, clear as day.
You hummed, nails dragging lightly down her back. “Huh. Seemed like you liked it a second ago.” you challenged.
Vi let out a low chuckle, hands slipping under the hem of your top. “I have bad taste.”
“Oh yeah?” Your grin widened. “Is that why you almost ran me over?”
She laughed, fingers pressing into your waist as she pulled you. “You gonna bring that up forever?”
“Maybe,” you teased, tilting your head as she kissed along your throat. “What, you can dish it but you can’t take it?”
Vi exhaled against your skin, then pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, eyes gleaming with amusement” “Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured, voice dripping with mischief. “I can take a hell of a lot more than this.”
“Plus, That was your fault,” she muttered, her lips curving into a smirk. Her hands roamed, fingers gently tracing the dip of your hip, her thumb lightly tugging the ends of your dress. Every touch was like electricity, the tension building between you. “Should’ve paid more attention.” Her head dipped down, mouth slowly trailing along the column of your neck. She paused every now and again to bite, nibble, kiss, suck—trying to draw out that whimper she so desperately wanted to hear.
You hummed in approval, a laugh slipping out at her sudden movement. Her hands found the back of your thighs, pulling your legs around her waist. Your back pressed against the stall, hips now flush against hers as you held onto her. “Look at you, short stuff,” you teased, resting your forehead against hers. She let out a soft huff at your words, her hands gripping you tighter as she brought your body closer. Feeling you pressed against her like this, the weight of you, it was almost too much. That damn laugh, your breath against her face—she knew you were teasing her about the height difference.
“Yeah? Keep talkin’, see what happens.” Her voice was low, a quiet challenge that sent a shiver down your spine. Her hands roamed, leaving small chills in their wake.
“Ooo, you gonna get mad, huh?” you teased, pulling her face closer, needing to kiss her again. Your lips found hers, claiming them.
She let out a low moan at the way you took control, your words barely processing as her lips crashed back into yours. The kiss was rough, hungry. She wanted you. Needed you. Her hands gripped your thighs tighter, fingers digging into the flesh as she pushed you back against the stall wall, the sudden shift pressing her body even more against yours.
You gasped slightly, feeling the press of her pelvis against you, heat jolting through your core at the sound of her small moan. Tilting your head, you deepened the kiss, your tongue finding hers, the warm muscle pressing and teasing. Her tongue immediately met yours, her soft whimpers filling the small space as her body shivered. She pulled you flush against her, wanting to be as close as possible. She’d always been impatient, but right now, she was downright desperate for you. One hand stayed on your thigh, anchoring you, while the other skimmed along your hip, gripping hard as she ground herself against you.
She let out an amused hum at the sound of your moan. Hearing you like this, knowing she had this effect on you, was almost too much. It drove her wild. The feeling of your hand on her undercut, the way you teased her, it was almost enough to make her knees buckle. Her lips grazed your skin as they traveled down your neck, pausing to nip at your collarbone, leaving more marks in their wake. When a groan of disapproval came from her throat, you pulled back from her.
“Wait—” “What… what was your name?” You asked.
Ragged breathing, your vision coming back to you as you scanned over her features, your mind still foggy from the intensity of the moment. You both paused momentarily. Feet hitting the ground once more, The woman’s icy eyes widened. Then, she spoke up, not even knowing how you two had gotten this far without something as simple as a first name.
She grinned, running a hand through her dark hair. “It’s Vi.”
You arched a brow. “Vi…” you repeated. “That short for something? Veronica? Vanessa? Vivian?” You listed off name options, trying to match one to her face. It didn’t matter but you couldn’t help but tease her further.
Her smirk deepened, a single brow lifting as if to challenge you. “Violet,” she corrected, shaking her head with a quiet chuckle. “But honestly? I thought we were past names at this point.” Gesturing between you two.
You sighed dramatically, rolling your eyes. “Okay, smartass. Just figured I’d ask before we—”
She didn’t let you finish. Your words were practically swallowed as Vi’s lips crashed back into yours, her hands gripping your waist as she tugged you down slightly. The cold metal of her lip piercing pressed against your lips, the last remnants of your gloss transferring onto hers.
Your hands found the sides of her face, melting back into the moment.
“All those little noises for me?” she murmured, her voice barely audible. Her hands roamed, fingers tracing along the hem of your dress, teasing the soft skin beneath. She wanted to hear you moan again. To be the cause of it. To know that she was the one making you feel this way, the one who had you coming undone beneath her touch.
You laughed breathlessly, nodding. “Yes. For you.”
Just that simple confirmation sent a rush of possessive desire through her. Every moan, every shudder, every whimper—she wanted it all. Her lips attached to your neck again, marking and biting as they traveled across the sensitive skin. She found that spot again, nipping and sucking, drawing out more of those beautiful noises she craved. A soft moan escaped you as your body leaned into her, hands moving to tug her jacket off the rest of the way. A muffled chuckle spilled from her lips as she felt you push the leather from her shoulders. She let it drop down her arms, the fabric hitting the floor with a dull thud. She didn’t care where it landed—her focus was solely on you. Fingers curled beneath the hem of your dress, tugging it upwards. She needed more. Needed to feel more of your skin against hers.
Your arms lifted, inviting her to remove it. Her blue eyes darkened as she slowly pulled the fabric up, baring more of you. The dress joined the growing pile on the floor, leaving you more exposed, her hands tracing slow patterns along your sides.
She caught the motion of your fingers reaching for your shoes. “No, leave those,” she said, her voice laced with something thick
You paused before nodding, leaving the red heels on, and turned to tug at the hem of her black shirt instead.
“Mm, need this off, then.” Her breath hitched as your fingers gripped the fabric. She was more than happy to. Lifting her arms, she let you pull it over her head, her tank top soon joining the mess on the floor. A simple black sports bra covered her chest, the only thing she had on top now. trailing a hand down her toned torso. Tracing the lines of her skin. “Damn, you always this easy?”
her muscles tensing slightly beneath your touch. You could feel the outline of her abs, firm and defined. “Easy?” she chuckled, her hands sliding to your waist, pulling you flush against her.
“I’m anything but easy,” she murmured, lips finding yours in a kiss that was hungry. She smirked against your mouth before pulling back just enough to say, “Now, you gonna let me have you, or are you just here to run your mouth?”
You grinned, fingers toying with her spiked belt. “Mmm, got this far. Might as well.”
A low chuckle rumbled from her chest, her head tilting slightly as she watched you. The way you played with her belt sent heat pooling in her stomach.
“That’s what I thought,” she murmured before her lips were back on your skin, nipping at your throat as one hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head to expose more of your neck to her. The other hand dipped lower, fingers teasing at the fabric of your underwear. A small sound escaped your throat at the tug in your hair, your skin already littered with purples and reds from her mouth. Your fingers flexed as you lifted the belt from its clasp, undoing it. Her teeth grazed your skin as she smiled against your throat. at the way your hands fidgeted slightly, just as eager. She made no move to stop you, only pressing you further against the wall, her tattooed arms keeping you caged in place.
The pile on the floor was beginning to build, the heel of Vi’s boots pressing the fabrics into the flooring. Too focused on how your body felt against hers.
A bar bathroom. Of all places. The kind of place that would usually make your nose scrunch, your skin crawl. The lighting was too harsh, the walls too cold, the bass from the speakers outside rattling against the door. And yet… you didn’t care. Not with the way Vi was looking at you. Not with the way she touched you—like she didn’t give a damn about the setting either, like she’d have you anywhere if it meant having you at all.
It only grew especially more difficult when her mouth began to trail lower, each kiss leaving a burning imprint on your skin. Heavy-lidded eyes followed her movements, watching as her lips dragged a slow, heated path down your sternum. Your breath hitched, fingers threading into the messy strands of her black-and-red hair, nails grazing her scalp.
She made her way down your body, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses in her wake. she kissed down your sternum, her hands firm on your waist. She was all-consuming, her presence overwhelming in the best way. Your hands continued to thread into her short locs, nails grazing her scalp as she moved. as she felt the way your fingers flexed, your grip tightening when her nose grazed your hip bone. Her lips continued their path downward.
Her jeans-covered knees found themselves Kneeling in front of you, still caught between your legs, her eyes lifted to yours, Her hands recurled in the waistband of your underwear, fingers teasing the fabric.
“Let’s take these off,” black-painted fingernails, tugging the elastic slightly. Needing your approval before continuing.
You nodded, breathless. “Please.” Releasing the grip on her hair.
Widened eyes, as the thin damped fabric of your underwear dragged down the soft flesh of your thighs. her eyes roaming over your newly exposed skin. Not missing the way you were practically soaked. The shine only exposed further when her finger
Her middle and index moved to the undeniable pooling slick to act as lube as she glides over your now uncovered clit.
“Look at that…Tell me again how you’re ‘not into the whole edgy thing’?” She asked. Pierced Tounge darting out to kitten lick over your glistening folds.
“Shut up— mmng!” a small whine ripping out when her wet muscle was buried to taste bit of your growing arousal.
With a to bite your bottom to suppress a sudden moan. The space between your shoes only widens are you spread your legs for her further. the pads of her fingers creating circles sending jolts of pressure upward through your body. Eyes fluttering shut once more.
The bathroom echoed with the sounds of soft moans, whispered encouragements, and the wet, slick sounds of her finger pushing inside of your velvety walls. until her knuckle is practically coated. arching your back, off the cold graffitied wall.
“Mmfuuk Violet!” Your fingers knitted right back into her soft stands. Tugging at them. Eyes squeezed shut, at her gentle laps to your cunt. Mewing like a virgin, not remembering the last time you had time to even have a causal hookup like well—this.
Her frim hands grabbing the mound of your thigh to keep you still. Her nose brushing into your cunt. Once you are (somewhat) steady she slides index out then right back into you, bottoming out. Earning another wail from you when she curls it exactly where you can’t reach alone.
“S’good, huh? Yeah, I can tell.”
Just as Vi’s hands started to roam again, the sound of a toilet flushing from one of the stalls cut through the heated haze.
Both of you froze. Then slush of the water draining out made your eyes snap open. Oh my god, neither one of you checked if anyone else was in here. With a tilt of your head Your eyes slowly met hers, wide with realization. Vi blinked once. Then twice. The unmistakable creak of a stall door opening followed.
Vi exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down her face “so…That just ruined it, right?”
You swallowed hard, face burning of embarrassment “..Yeah.”
There was a beat of silence. A shuffling noise from the stall. You really didn’t want to turn around. The bathroom now extremely quiet, faint music from the bar, seeping under the door.
“My place?” you offered, already reaching for your dress.
Vi’s lips twitched. “Yeah. Think we kinda have to now.”
“ Hope you’re okay with a little backseat action.” She smirked, stepping back slightly as she grabbed her belt from the floor. “Because Ya know, you’ll have to get on my bike for that.”
You huffed, rolling your eyes. “Oh, so fun. Not dangerous at all.”heels clicking as you stepped closer. “I’m calling a car.”
Vi grinned, looping the belt back through her jeans. “Says the girl who was just half-naked in a bar bathroom.” She whispered.
You groaned, swatting at her shoulder as she laughed, slinging her jacket over her arm before leading you toward the exit.
You groaned, swatting at her shoulder, but she just laughed, reaching for your wrist and tugging you toward the exit. “C’mon, princess, let’s get outta here before we scar someone else for life.”
Behind you, the poor soul from the stall finally cleared their throat.
“Yeah,” a voice muttered. “Good call.” Vi snorted. You just buried your face in your hands as she dragged you toward the door.
The sun warmed your closed eyelids, pulling you from sleep. You shot up from your bed, hand instinctively drifting to the space next to you—only to be met with sheets.
Cold.
Of course she left. What were you thinking? That she’d stay? You didn’t even ask for her name until you were both half-undressed. With a disappointed sigh and slumped shoulders, you sat up, pushing your hair out of your face. Glancing over at the space next to you once more to confirm.
Yeah. Still empty.
Until you caught your reflection in something small, shiny. Silver rings, hers. When you finally got out of bed to toss them into your jewelry box, you figured at least you had a souvenir to remember her by. But as you approached your vanity, confusion twisted on your features. The cabinet was slightly open. And then you saw it. A number, written in red by one of your lipsticks on the corner of your mirror.
Like things are getting hot and heavy and Abby admits she’s a virgin and experienced reader gets off on being Abby’s first ever while being really sweet and gentle.
Have a good one eat, stretch, drink something
-saturn
And they were roommates .ᐟ
Virgin! Abby ݁˖°✧
꒰࣪ Warnings:꒱ bits of plot, mostly A! Receiving, body hair ˖ . ݁˖°✧ mentioned, jealousy, talks of virginity (duh), hair pulling, loser Abby, oral, Mdni!
-oh my god, they were roommates?
Roommate, roomie, the woman you share your space with. That’s Abby—friend of three years, roommate of a few months.
Perfect roommate would be an understatement. So, of course, when your old landlord raised rent too high for your liking, she was the first person you asked to help look for a new place. Only to catch the way her eyes sparkled when you found one—quiet neighborhood, not too far from work. The extra bedroom was originally going to be an office of some sort, but plans changed.
She cooks, cleans, respects your space, always knocks before she enters your room.
—Well, usually she did. Except for last night.
Those usual soft knocks or “Can I come in?” fell on deaf ears. After moving in, things had unknowingly shifted between you two. An unspoken understanding to not make things awkward. However, one fateful night of her not knocking led to a sleepy, on-the-couch discussion days later, after a long work shift.
The scene was something straight out of a wet dream, (un)fortunately engraved in her mind.
The image of her wholesome roommate—the one who always compliments her cooking, offers to redo her hair when she’s too tired, and has her reach the top shelf. The classic excuse of “Putting those muscles to good use,” you’d say in the sweetest tone. All of that, down the drain the moment her eyes locked onto the woman beneath you. Writhing in pleasure. One leg tossed over your shoulder, the other splayed somewhat behind you. Pornographic whines and pleas smacking Abby in the face the second the door creaked open.
She’d completely forgotten what she even came in there for. A shirt? Where the dustpan was?
Fuck, she had no idea.
The door slammed shut harder than she intended, guilt pouring over her as she realized she’d walked in on such an intimate moment. Hookups for you weren’t uncommon. Always the same pretty faces. One stood out, though. Tall, more on the butch side. Clearly a gym rat. Her arms weren’t nearly as impressive as Abby’s, but she hated herself for even making the comparison.
She’d even bumped into her one morning in the kitchen during breakfast, eyes narrowing at the sight of her mug in the woman’s hands.
“You don’t mind, do you?”
It felt like a taunt. Abby told herself she was being delusional, trying to shake off the bubbling irritation.
The week passed, you two still hadn’t talked about it, along with a few other things—the time she ended up zipping your shirt for you and her hand lingered on your hip even after she was finished. Even that small glimpse of your bare skin reminded her of that night. Or how you always found yourself brushing your teeth next to her in the morning, feigning that you were “just saving water.”
It all whirled in her mind, even as she exhaustedly turned her key, prying open the front door.
Fallen boots and a thrown jacket into the hall closet later, she found herself slumped onto the plush couch. Already hearing your nagging about how her neck would pay for not taking the few extra steps to her bedroom in the morning. The warm yellow light reflected on the flooring, indicating you were home, tucked away in your room.
On Friday nights, you two usually watched a few episodes of one of the many TV series you started together and vowed not to watch without the other. She hadn’t seen much of you since the walk-in, although between your opposite work schedules, that wasn’t alarming.
Her teeth caught her bottom lip, eyes flickering between your door and the TV. She wanted to come get you, act natural. She really, really did, but her thoughts snapped back to that night. How her thighs shifted uncomfortably together, the heat that pooled in her gut when her mind replayed your sounds. How the recurring face you slept with oddly resembled hers.
“Hey, Abs.” She was too deep in her own thoughts to realize you’d emerged before she could call out to you.
“Oh! Heya,” she said, followed by a small head nod.
Even now, as you pushed off the wall, you seemed at ease, completely unaffected by the thoughts that threatened to consume her own mind.
She’d managed to act semi-normal over the past painfully slow thirty minutes. The uneasy feeling caused her to blurt it out before she could stop herself.
“Sorry about the other night. Random, I know— I just, uh, had to get that out.”
“No, no, my door should’ve been locked. Got caught up in the moment and—well, I’m sure you get it.” You waved off with a laugh.
“Yeah, of course,” she answered, a little rushed.
A lie. A big lie. She had no idea. In fact, the closest thing she’d ever allowed from someone else was a few hickeys and semi-decent make-out sessions—always pulling away right before things got too handsy.
Fear wasn’t holding her back, nor was insecurity. For her, it was comfort. She was dating the past, yeah, but the companionship  was craved more than the lost clothes and complaints from neighbors during a heated moment. Although, she knew this only stayed true up until you guys grew closer. With her presence becoming like a second skin to yours, of course, loose t-shirts without a bra and underwear as pants happened. Seemingly unaware of how it sent heat to her cheeks.
But you did know. Of course, you knew. Gracefully adding to the list of teasing. Seeing if she’d crack. And tonight, she did.
It started with a joke, in Abby’s mind—the nuisance that clung to you through the weeks. A joke about if someone could do it better, then maybe you’d stop calling her. It turned into more ‘jokes,’ turned touches, turned into a sudden cup of her cheek and a crashing kiss.
This was one of those moments where you’d get lost and discuss it later. Or, at least, it was—because as quick as it came, she pulled away.
“Sorry—was that too much? I just thought—are you good?” You pulled your hands back from traveling lower than they already were.
“What—?” She blinked, snapping back. “No, I just—yes, I’m good.”
The murmur of the TV did little to ease the tension. The heat never left the room. The whispered words you’d said in her left ear bounced inside her mind. Her slipped comment about how badly she wanted you, unsure if she should’ve said it.
“Soo… you haven’t then?” You knew the answer, but confirmation in this moment was beyond needed.
“If I answer, will you laugh?” She sighed.
“Laugh? Of course not.” Your expression softened.
“I… haven’t.” The words felt heavier out loud. “It’s just, I wanted it to be special.” She turned her head back to you. “Is that silly?”
“No, dude, what? I wish I would’ve waited.” You shook your head.
She scoffed. “You’re just saying that—”
“I’m serious.” You shifted closer. “Your body is a temple and all that jazz. You should be glad you’re waiting.” You finger quoted.
You continued as Her eyes flicked over you, thoughtful. “Whoever gets to tap this”— you gestured vaguely toward her frame—“is lucky. As hell. And.. if you were serious about earlier, Abs… it’s still on the table, okay? Don’t rush anything you don’t want. It’s not going anywhere, and neither am I.”
You smirked. “Literally. I live here.” You said dramatically gesturing around the living space
She laughed shaking her head. “You’re such an idiot.”
You grinned. “Oh, fuck you. I was trying to be sentimental.”
“I know… and I appreciate it.” Abby exhaled, running a hand through her hair before reaching for you, fingers grazing your arm. “But, uh—can we circle back to the part where you were taking your shirt off?”
Your breath caught. “You sure?”
“more than sure.” She took a deep breath. “Just gentle, yeah?”
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As nice as kissing her was, your lips were slightly swollen at this rate, and you weren’t sure how much longer she planned to drag this part out. She seemed comfortable, but her hands stayed rooted at her sides—stiff as a board.
“You say you’re relaxed, but your shoulders are telling a different story,” you teased, pressing your hands to them, feeling how tense she was. “See?”
Abby huffed, exhaling sharply through her nose. “Yeah, okay. Maybe a little.”
But before she could dish out another apology. You spoke back up “Don’t apologize. You’re not doing anything wrong. But if you’re not ready, we don’t—”
“—No, I am.”
“Okay, so let’s start small.”
“Smaller than you kissing me?” she muttered, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
“Shut up. Just do me a favor—take a deep breath. In and out.”
Your eyes followed the rise and fall of her chest, so close that her breath fanned against your skin. “You feeling okay enough to keep going, or are you planning to suck my lips off my face first?”
Abby huffed a quiet laugh. “Not my fault you taste good.”
“Oh? That right?” you teased. “Then tell me what you want.” She hesitated, shifting slightly under your gaze. “Don’t get shy on me now, c’mon—it’s just us.”
A beat passed, pools of blue locked onto yours. “I want you to touch me.” a little rushed, like she’d forced the words out before she could second-guess them. Then, quieter—“Please.”
“Good, that’s a start.” You nodded. “Now tell me where.”
She swallowed, jaw tightening for a second. “I-Shouldn’t I be…?” She trailed off, tilting her head to expose her neck without finishing the thought.
“Uht uht, don’t worry about me right now.” You pressed a lingering kiss to the pulse point at her neck, and her breath hitched—followed by a sharp exhale through her nose. “Oh, you liked that, huh?”
Her hands finally lifted, gripping the fabric of your shirt like she needed something to hold onto. “Yeah… do that again”
She shivered at the touch, her eyes slipping closed. Each kiss was slow, teasing, drawing out that shiver, that soft gasp of your name. Her fingers pressed into your back, nails leaving faint red lines against your skin through the thin material.
“Yeah.” She breathed out. “Just like that.”
You smiled against her skin as you traveled south, kissing along the rim of her shoulder, gently pulling her head to the side to give yourself more room. “You’re so vocal, Abs.”
She sighed, her head lolling to the side, offering herself up more. The grip on your shirt loosened as her breathing quickened just the slightest. With her head tilted, a soft mewl escaped her parted lips—a reaction to the tender kisses that made their way across her skin.
“It’s your fault,” she murmured. You giggled at her retort, hands finding the hem of her tank top, fingers tracing the fabric. You kissed over her shoulder a few more times before pulling back to look at her.
“You ready for me to take this off, or do you need more time?”
Abby chewed her bottom lip, her gaze flicking down to her tank top and then back up to your face. The flush that dusted her cheeks extended down to her neck, faint red marks from your ministrations littering her skin. She swallowed, eyes lingering on the way your fingers toyed with the fabric, before huffing out a:
“I—uh… yeah, I’m ready.”
“You sure? I’m going at your pace, no rushing needed.”
You asked for confirmation, thumbs stroking the skin of her abdomen under the fabric gently.
She inhaled sharply at the gentle touch, her mind clouded by the way your thumbs swiped across her skin. It was hard to form coherent thoughts while your touch burned with the promise of something more.
“I’m sure,” she murmured, her voice just loud enough for you to hear. “Wanna feel your hands on me.”
“Okay, lift your arms for me.”You scooted closer to her, gently lifting the hem of her tank top.
She obliged with a small nod, raising her arms in the air. The motion caused the fabric to ride up, revealing a sliver of her toned stomach. Her breath hitched as the tank top cleared her head, leaving her exposed—chest and torso bare, save for a few freckles and moles that dotted her skin like constellations.
You trailed a finger down her shoulder to her arm, keeping your gaze on her face.
“You’re so pretty, look at you.” You smiled, scanning over her torso momentarily.
“Shut up.” Even though there was no real bite behind it, she shifted slightly, trying to hide the way her chest rose and fell with her shallow breaths. Pinkish nipples pebbling as the cool air passed them.
You laughed.“Don’t be embarrassed—look, I’ll take mine off too. That better?”
She took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure with little success. Seeing you strip too? Yeah, that sounded better. Her gaze raked over you, taking in every inch of exposed skin as you removed your shirt.
“Yeah,” she breathed out. “That’s better.”
Her gaze wandered shamelessly over your body, taking in the sight of your exposed shoulders, the way your bralette hugged your chest. Her gaze lingered there a moment before drifting up to your face—eyes, nose, lips. She nodded, words failing her at first as she tried to regain her composure.
You hummed in reply, trailing your hands to her collarbone, gently moving down to her breast, cupping the warm skin. “How does that feel?”
She let out a soft moan as your hands needed, the warmth of your touch. Her back arched involuntarily against your hands, trying to press herself closer.
“God. That feels…” She huffed out, struggling to find the words. “So, so good.”
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Thankfully once she was more relaxed, her thighs instinctively parting a bit as your hands continued their way up her legs. The gentle touch had her squirming gently, trying to get closer. Trimmed blonde happy trail leading to her oozing folds. arousal dripping down to her anus.
“H-hah—” abby’s eyes fluttering shut at the contact of your lips on her lower abdomen, her back sinking deeper into the couch. Her soaked through boxers somewhere lost on the floorboards. Glistening skin, slowly coming into view as you grew closer.
“Still okay?” You asked, between kisses.
Half-lidded eyes met yours, watching as you trailed lower, teasingly slow. She could only manage a nod, anticipation buzzing through her body.
“Use your words.” looking up at her through your lashes.
Her breath hitched. “Mhm… still okay.”
“Gonna start now”
A sharp exhale, fingers curling into the cushion beneath her. “God, please—” The words broke into a sucked-in breath the second your lips made contact where she needed you most. The feeling was new, almost overwhelming. Her fingers threaded themselves into your hair, tightening with each flick of your tongue.
Her muscles flexed with every breath as they grew heavier. She was wound so tight, every nerve alight, and god, if you could just stay right there—
She gasped, one hand gripping the side of the sofa. It wasn’t hard to find her clit, but she was still only partly spread out, hips shifting like she was chasing something just out of reach.
You’d glance up occasionally, feeling your own wave of heat pass through you at the sight. Her face was contorted in pleasure, her full-blown whines ringing out. Eating your roommate out after a semi-awkward encounter wasn’t on the agenda for the night, but the movie was now long forgotten.
“Please, d-don’t stop.” Her plea wasn’t louder than a whisper, eyes squeezing shut as you continued your ministrations on her sodden core.
If reducing a woman who could bench press you without breaking a sweat to a whimpering mess was a kink? You definitely just discovered it.
Air wasn’t an option when her hips kept jerking up involuntarily, seeking you—your tongue, her orgasm, everything. She let herself revel in the selfish need teetering on the edge, chasing it, desperate.
Soft breaths came in ragged gasps. “Don’t stop. God, don’t stop—” The white-hot pleasure you were giving her consumed every thought. Abby—composed, polite Abby? She couldn’t think. Nope. Couldn’t form a single coherent thought except please.
She chanted it over and over until she couldn’t hold back anymore. The pressure in her gut snapped, sending a rush of euphoria crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her back arched, fingers tightening in your hair—a full-blown tug—as her climax tore through her.
“F-fuck—” she choked out, voice breaking as she rode it out.
You soothed her, voice gentle. “I got you.”
The death grip on the couch and your hair finally loosened, her body still trembling under you, breathless in the aftermath. A sheen of sweat beaded down her caved-in abdomen as she tried to catch her breath.
“Jesus Christ,” she gasped finally, dazed. Her eyes stuck on the ceiling.
And all you could think as you rubbed her thigh gently was—
If reducing a woman who could bench press you without breaking a sweat to a whimpering mess was a kink? You definitely just discovered it.
After one too many bickering sessions with Abby about her long hours, you fell asleep while doing laundry. Uh oh
Cw: Smut! Strap on (r! Receiving), soft dom Abby!, traditional housewife views, slight rough sex, (no major petnames! Just a few sprinkled in) added visuals, blah blah blah. Slut activities.
4k words | MDNI- mlist
You lay there, sore and beyond satisfied on your duvet. Your panting had finally slowed. The room only filled with the distant hiss of the master bedroom shower being run by your wife. As your thoughts came back to you, you couldn't help but blush at the flashbacks from just moments ago…
Abby had just walked through the door after a long day at work. Sweat clung to her skin from the hot, grueling job on the site. However, as soon as she got home you didn’t come greet her like usual. oh lord that meant either you were sleeping or still upset by the argument of her work hours.
Heading into the bedroom and seeing you sprawled out on the bed and the bonnet covering half your face just furthered her thoughts. she sighed and leaned over and gently removed the covering off your head. she took a moment to just stare at your peaceful face a small smile forming on her own as her eyes roamed all over you.
her gaze lingered for a moment longer before she looked around the room and noticed the mess of clothes scattered everywhere. Her smile dropped.
she knew you’d been working on laundry a while ago, but for some reason got distracted. now she had to clean up after you, something that usually didn’t happen and she didn’t like it one bit.
she couldn’t help the small flare of irritation in her chest at the sight of it. she shook her head but quickly tried to push the thought aside and instead focus on her wife front of her after missing her... but the messy clothes were just a small reminder that you weren’t the perfect housewife she thought you were. she began tidying it all up, trying to keep the grumble of annoyance from her mouth low as she continued.
A line of colorful language woke you.
“You’re home?” You sleepily sat up realizing you’d lost track of time.
“Mhm, I just got home.” As you sat up, the shirt rode up and she couldn’t help but rake her eyes down your body. her own pants suddenly feeling like too many clothes, as she leaned against the dresser.
“I came in to see you all laid out on the bed, and yet you didn’t come greet me.” she said, her voice a little gruff from the long day.
You felt your stomach twist with guilt. She’d worked all day, and you’d lazily fallen asleep… But this was also just an off day. She’d understand that, right?
“I wasn’t aware you’d be working so late tonight.” half-truth; you couldn't remember if she told you or not.
“I told you that last night. I’ve had to work late these past few days to finish up a project on time. I don’t understand why you get all bent out of shape about it.” She huffed in response, still leaning against the dresser, her toned, arms crossed tightly in front of her.
Oh, here we go. You two never fought really, but when you did? It was over; you never saw her unless the sun was down and the streetlights were on. You tried to move topics but somehow kept ending up in the same spot.
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“You just do more overtime than needed. Is all I was saying” this was true; she was a workaholic. Yes, she took care of you, but what’s the point of you never getting to hold her, kiss her, or be near her?
She groaned in annoyance, pushing off the dresser and stalking over to the bed. She stood over you, an eyebrow raised and irritation in her voice.
“You know how important my job is to me. Do you have any idea how much pressure is on me to get this job done on time? And then I come home to find things not done the way they’re supposed to be. Maybe you should be focusing more on keeping yourself busy while I’m out working my ass off.” She hated when you brought that up; true or not, you hit low. She was going to hit lower.
“What are you talking about—Oh lord, I fell asleep! Don’t act like that.” You huffed; no way she was this pissed. You always kept the house together, but today it was being hung over your head. And you didn’t like it one bit. She had dinner on the stove waiting for her for god's sake.
She scoffed and rolled her eyes, placing her hands on her hips, fingers brushing her belt. You could feel the room grow hotter as both of you glared daggers. It felt like a standoff.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about! I came home to find clothes all over the floor like a damn tornado went through here. I had to pick it all up for you”.
“I was between cleaning and dinner, The house is never a mess. So you have no right to throw this in my face!” You sighed. This truly felt ridiculous. Had she forgotten everything leading up to today?
“You’re damn right I’m going to throw it in your face when I come home and find it a mess. I work my ass off all day to pay the bills; the least you can do is keep the house clean for me when I get home.”
She stepped even closer, standing only a few feet away from you now. She towered over you in a way that said, ‘I dare you to keep talking back.’. You know you should stop; just explain you were having an off day, but her tone was making that hard to do.
She huffed again, her eyes narrowing. She could see the challenge in your expression as you sat there on the bed, shirt bunched up and revealing the smooth planes of your body. She could see it clear as day, and it made the irritation in her chest grow. You were on thin ice, and you willingly kept skating.
“Do you even realize what you’re wearing right now?”
What the fuck was she talking about? It’s a sleep shirt and shorts. Did she not hear that part where you said you were doing laundry? Ugh
But your reply was unknowingly the first strike.
“What? Oh, now you are going to be upset by what I’m wearing’ to bed too?”
It felt like hell itself in the master bedroom. You hated fighting with her; you really did. With her late hours and you spending more time with your family, it felt like a wedge was being pushed between you two. Not to mention the obvious baby fever she’d been having, and yes, she’d be a good coparent but how can she promise that if you don’t see her now?
It was too much, too fast, too heated.
She clenched her jaw, her patience nearing its breaking point. Her eyes were flashing with borderline anger now, her jaw set in a hard line. Her towering a few steps away, you had moved to lean on the doorframe. Honestly, maybe it was better to walk away and take a breather. You two were usually good about that; you just hoped it would reach today.
“Do you even listen to a damn thing I say? You’ve been getting more and more mouthy lately, and I don’t like it. at. all.” Mouthy? You were being a little defensive, yes, but you weren’t trying to push her buttons on purpose. Even if it did get you a little hot to see her like this on occasion.
her hands were balled into fists at her side, itching to reach out and do something about your behavior. She took a breath, trying to calm herself, but the sight of you staring back at her, challenging her, was making it hard to do.
“You need to keep that smart mouth of yours in check, understand?” She raised a hand, gently grabbing your chin and forcing you to look directly at her. Other hand gripped her hip, a clear sign of bubbling over irritation.
Her grip on your chin got a little tighter, a warning to stay compliant. She looked down at you, her eyes flickering all over your face, and the way your breath was coming out in shallow pants. her own chest was heaving as she stood there, trying to keep a steady hold on the anger and nagging pang of lust that was running through her.
A few moments of silence passed, allowing you both to take a much-needed breath. She began to speak again, but the sound of your own breathing and foot tapping on the floor was all you could hear. She went on and on, Jesus.
“Are you listening to me?
She leaned down, her face now only a few inches away from yours. Her voice was low. her hand moving to tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck instead. She tugged your hair, pulling your head back a little bit, forcing you to look up at her. Waiting for your answer.
“Yes, I’m listening—will you knock that off?” you spat out, interrupted by the hair tug.
“I just don’t understand why you’re acting so damn bratty lately. It’s really starting to get on my nerves—” You felt her hand tense, then ball up a bit more on your scalp.
One thing Abby hated more than you being mouthy was an eye roll following it, and you had just done it while she was talking. She tugged your hair again, just a little bit rougher this time.
“Excuse—Did you just roll your eyes at me?” she said, pure disbelief in her voice. You were really starting to push it. The irritation and anger were only growing, and she was getting more and more tempted to put you in your place right then and there.
That was strike two.
She took another deep breath, her balled grip on your scalp still too tight. Her words were gritted out through her teeth. She wanted you to just apologize and not let it happen again.
“You better remember your place, honey. I’m the head of this house, and I won’t tolerate this kind of attitude.
Attitude. A word she repeated like a prayer, she swore you had the stinkiest attitude she’d ever seen when you fought. It irritated you highly; it felt like she was talking down to you. You weren’t a child; you were her wife, her equal. housewife roll aside.
“I’m only giving you attitude because you’re being ridiculous, Abbigail!” You threw your arms up. No honey, sweetheart, or any other cute name she was used to. Her full name,
A-b-b-i-g-a-l. Her full name.
That’s it. That did it. She went from mildly annoyed to furious in two seconds. The sound of her full first name falling from your lips combined with that stubborn, whiny tone in your voice pushed her over the edge she was hanging over.
She let go of your hair and grabbed your upper arm, standing you up from leaning on the doorway in one swift movement. She stood in front of you, towering over you, her voice low and full of irritation.
“Excuse me? …What did you just call me?”
Ah shit. It slipped out before you could stop yourself; she hated when you used her government. A line you had just crossed, regret starting to pool along with an uncomfortable arousal from how close she was standing. This woman can bench 205 pounds; she wasn’t afraid to do some manhandling if needed. You only ever got the soft side of her, and this was definitely not that. It was best to stand down…but your mouth had other plans.
She grabbed your other arm, her grip tight on your wrists as she stared you down. She was struggling to keep herself in control; the urge to shut you up was starting to become hard to ignore.
“You wanna repeat that?” she asked, her voice louder and more authoritative this time. You were going to answer, and now. She just didn’t know how much she was going to dislike your tone when you did.
“I said. You are being ridiculous, Abigail, because you are.” She was; this was deeper than today. An unspoken conversation about the growing distance between you two. Your own frustrations began to flow out as you continued on.
That was definitely strike three. You were asking for it, and she was going to give it to you.
That did it. The continual rise of your voice and finger pointing. She pushed you backwards, slamming you against the wall with brute force. her body pressed against yours, pinning you against the wall.
“Don’t you ever use that tone with me” “have you lost your mind?”
She spit out through clenched teeth, her eyes staring down at you intensely as she held you there. her breathing was labored, her body tense. the way you were pressed against her, your body soft and chest to chest, it was only making things worse. it was taking all her restraint not to throw you over her lap. Rough wasn’t really what she favored most days, but it was seeming like a beautiful idea right about now.
“You need to learn to respect me. You are my wife, and I am yours. I work hard to provide for us, and what do you do? Sit at home all day and then get sassy when I come in tired?”
She cut you off mid-sentence with some half-hearted apology, half whine.
“Unt uh! Save it. I don’t want to hear it. You’ve been acting like this for too damn long, and I’m tired of it.”
Her eyes triangled down to your mouth, her breathing labored as she fought to keep her cool. Your lips were parted, your eyes wide, and the sight of you like that was making her feel dizzy. She couldn’t hold back any longer. Her lips were on yours in an instant, her body pressing against you even harder. There was no sweetness or tenderness in this kiss—it was pure, raw need.
You felt your stomach twist. Oh, she was pissed, and you...kind of liked it? No- really. Liked it
She was kissing you with a ferocity that you hadn’t experienced before. Her tongue was in your mouth, exploring every inch, claiming your mouth. Her hands let go of your wrists, snaking down to grip your hips firmly. A soft sigh fell between you two; god, it’s been so long since you two got to hold each other longer than a few minutes before bed.
She broke the kiss, only to take a moment to look at you. Her eyes were dark, filled with an almost feral need. She leaned in, her mouth close to the shell of your ear.
“You’ve been pushing me for so damn long. I think it’s about time I knock you down a few notches.”
And honestly, you needed it. Wanted it, her.
“Now, you’re going to go over to the bed and get in that exact same position you were in when I walked in here, understood?”
Oh, you understood alright; all you wanted to do was leap onto the bed and let her get it all out. You were still irritated by the previous conversation, yes, but you wouldn’t have married her if you didn’t like this side of her.
Her eyes were still fixed on you as she began to strip out of her work clothes, unbuttoning her flannel shirt and discarding it on the floor. her undershirt followed suit, revealing her physique that you loved. She then worked on taking off her jeans, shimmying out of them and kicking them aside.
“You’re going to lay there while I show you who’s in charge, yeah?”
As mad as she was, she was still checking in; railing your brains out was only ever done if wanted and only then. You nodded, returning to your position from before the argument. On your stomach, head propped on your arm.
You weren’t sure if you were supposed to follow suit and undress, but you didn’t have time to wonder long when, without another word, she climbed onto the bed, looming over you.
Her hands were on your body in an instant, exploring every inch. They roamed over your skin, touching and squeezing and gripping. She was being rougher than usual, her touch almost possessive.
Her breath was hot against your neck as she spoke, her body pressed against your back.
“You remember who’s in charge around here, don’t you, hm?” She loved hearing you say it. A small smile when you confirmed that you did.
“Damn straight you do.” She pulled the shirt over your head, discarding it on the floor. Her eyes roamed over your now-exposed body, taking in every inch.
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Her hands moved back to your hips, gripping them tightly again, her fingers digging into your skin. Grinding herself on the fat of your ass. Her weight on top of yours was as comfortable as a weighted blanket, a small hum of approval falling out when she began to kiss your bare shoulder.
The feeling of her strong thighs and bare cunt on the thin fabric of your shorts had your breath hitching. You know it’s been too long when small friction like this had her mewing moans into your warmed skin already.
Her hand found its way pulling your hair out of the way, causing you to tilt your head to meet your shoulder. Her chest now completely pressed against the skin of your back, messily kissing her way up to your lips.
She rubs herself against your clothed ass a bit more desperately. “Mm— God... I need this.” She was mostly saying that to herself, but it was nice to hear.
Her mouth leaves wet trails over your soft skin as her hands travel down from your face to the base of your neck. Calloused fingers guiding your head further over as she crashed her lips back into yours. She swiftly bit your lip to gain entrance of your mouth with her tongue, bullying yours, followed by another shared moan.
Eventually, once she pulled back for air, she lifted off your hips just enough to pull your shorts and underwear down, tossing them next to her forgotten work clothes.
Wasting no time, she leaned forward, burying her face between your thighs, her tongue immediately going to work on your pussy. Zigzagging through your folds, her grip tight, harder on your hips and legs spread you open and still as possible.
“Shit, abs,” you choked out, your cheek heavily rested on the plush pillow. Holding on for dear life. Eyes squeezing shut when her middle finger followed along. The pad curling and she pumped it tirelessly.
Her tongue was relentless, working against you in all the ways that had your eyes rolling back, arching and writhing in her grip that was bruising your skin. She was going to show you just what happens when you get too smart with her, too mouthy.
“Thaaattt’s it, baby, let it out for me. Wanna hear you get loud.”
She could hear your breathing getting heavy, your words coming out in soft pants. Babbling out apologies when she would smack an occasional love tap to the fat of your ass. She wasn’t stopping, not until she got you to scream for her.
She didn’t let up on the constant sucking and pressure on your clit. She wanted you to moan and shout her name so loudly she’d have to put a hand over your mouth. She wanted to hear you say you were hers and only hers.
Her tongue against your skin felt nearly sinful; the things she was doing were nearly too much. and she wasn’t stopping anytime soon. not when you were moaning and arching into her. not when you were biting back loud whimpers. She was going to keep going until she’d made her point, made sure you would behave. Her pink muscle filling the room with smacking sounds and your whines for her to not stop.
It sent jolts of pleasure through your body. Her movements were urgent now, her intent clear. She wanted to push you over the edge. your hands bunched at your shared blankets, in a struggled attempt to steady yourself. You didn’t realize how much you missed moments like these until now, back arched and head heavy as your brain fogged. The only thing on it was wanting more, more, god please more.
With a loud cry you bounced your ass backwards as you chased your high. Forcing her finger deeper, god you just wanted more but knew you weren’t in a position to ask so you made due.
Every nerve in your body was on fire, that coil in your lower belly beginning to snap.
A small hiss left her throat feeling you bury her deeper into your cunt. Feeling drunk off your sounds and need. She could feel your body moving against as you tried to keep it under control. "That's right, baby," she murmured into your skin. Curling them inside to hit your spot; causing your head to fall back and moans escape your mouth.
You could barely hear her over yourself but it was enough to have you coating her fingers in your release sooner than you expected, your orgasm washing over you.
Your hips fell flat against the mattress, the tension in your body unraveling all at once. The rustle of her releasing your legs barely registered in your haze, the world around you distant and blurred. Your limbs felt weightless, boneless, a warm numbness spreading from your core outward. Your breath came in slow, uneven waves against the soft white pillow, your cheek molding into the fabric, damp with heat.
Your heartbeat still thundered in your chest, pulsing in your fingertips, your skin alive with the aftershocks that rolled through you in lazy ripples. You heard her silky voice whisper something along with your bedside table's soft click, but you weren’t sure what it was until you were a little spooked by the sudden weight dipping into the mattress next to you.
You went to curl next to her only to be pulled over. You let out a weak chuckle and scooted to straddle her hips. Only to have your eyes snap open at the sudden push of silicone into your still pulsating heat. Causing your hips to buck into the feeling.
“F-Fuck! Abby—Jesus” Followed by a SMACK on your hip, as you shuddered and sunk down onto the toy as far as you could.
“Uh unt, you don’t get to whine right now” “still got a lot of apologizing to do”
One hand gripped your hip to keep you in place, the other slowly rubbing your clit in messy circles. Your skin felt like fire as her hands roamed your body. Abby jerks up, letting the rest of her inches sink inside you. A small groan falling from her lips when the base of her strap adds pressure from your weight striking her clit. The dim light from the bedside lamp glowing softly on her features, the sight alone had you biting your lip.
Her Hairsprayed out on the pillow underneath her, eyes half-lidded as she feels out the lines and dips of your body. You had only been on a top a few times; she wanted you to work for it. Usually she’d fuck you until you were one with the mattress, but the conversation from earlier still lingered in the air. In the hottest way possible.
You didn’t need her to tell you what to do, thighs brushing the skin of her waist as you guided yourself along the veiny length. It felt so deep inside of you that you were practically melting together.
“That’s it, honey, k-keep god—Fuckin' me like you mean it.” she brings her firm grip up to your waist to help you add to the sweet rocking, causing her to tilt her head further back. Your rhythm steadies, the bounce of your hips sending Abby into soft grunts.
Her fingertips left your back, moving back down to your hips to steady herself and guide your rocking faster.
“Yes, juuust like that,” she whispered, shifting underneath so she was a deep as possible. The repetitive sound of the skin of her pelvis meeting yours over and over filled the room to the brim. Her praises mingling with her low moans and your breathy pants.
Hearing you respond, seeing how you looked, feeling your body against hers was sending her brain into overdrive. You looked good, sounded good, and felt even better. She continued moving, her breath coming out in sharp pants.
She let out a little groan at the feeling, her head falling back a bit. She pulled your hair slightly, exposing your neck and back arching further into her view. one hand moving from your hip to your back, nails raking against your skin. She could feel you trembling, and she knew you wouldn’t last much longer, though, she wasn’t far behind either. Feeling heat pool in your lower belly, you lifted your hips higher with each bounce. A slight tingling in your toes as the strap kissed all the right spots of your gushing walls.
She let out a low gasp when you pressed your hands against her chest, the desperation clear as day in the way you sunk down. It only caused her to move a little faster, the sound of the headboard creaking against the wall filling her ears and egging her on. Her hand in your hair pulled a little bit harder this time, the other moving to your hip again to steady herself.
She groaned at the feeling, watching as you tried to move as well, trying to keep the pace. She gripped your hips a bit tighter, her nails digging into your skin a little.
“You look so pretty.” She managed between pants, “You sound even better too, mm—gonna remember this every time you get mouthy with me, yeah?”
All you could do was a head nod, feeling the tight coil in your lower belly snap along with a choked out whimper
CONTAINS: age gap • Cheating • slight Power Imbalance • mutual obsession • Ellie ft • draft.
NOTES: idk my period wrote this evil piece of work
— Click clack, click clack.
Heels hitting the tiled flooring. At 7:59 a.m., every day. A sound that wouldn’t normally be disruptive—not in an office full of bodies.
But to her?
That sound meant work wouldn’t be so drab. A new motivation to finish a boring project, a repeated email, the dull activities of being at a company so long it had meshed itself with your identity.
Bright fluorescent lighting hitting the shiny countertops, reflecting one figure all too familiar to you.
The blonde, glancing up through her glasses from the file in hand, scanning over today’s carefully crafted outfit. She—Abby—never understood why you dressed the way you did.
In a fitted blouse that drove her nuts. The fabric outlining places she imagined her hands exploring.
Did you know what you were doing? Did you want her attention? And if so, why didn’t you look in her—direction?
The trail of perfume you left wafted behind you during the cross of the floor, where you’d sit pretty at a desk facing away from her. Then it was over. The show. Until break, where you’d continue to be blissfully unaware of the hungry eyes that tracked your every move.
Each roll of your sleeves, each bite of your pen, the lip marks left on straws after you set your morning beverage down.
Alluring wasn’t the word. No, you had her completely entranced.
Exactly where you wanted her. So how could so much change in only a few weeks?
It all started with her birthday.
“Big three-eight, huh, Anderson?”
“Said like you’re not right behind me,” Abby shot back, adjusting the too-small party hat someone had forced on her head.
“Welcome to the grown folks’ club.”
“Said no adult ever—happy birthday, Abby,” another coworker chirped, clapping far too loud for 8 a.m.
The phrase echoed around her all day—from every coworker, to the balloon hovering above the basket nestled beside her monitor.
“Happy 38th Birthday, Abby.”
Everyone said it— Except you. Not yet. Granted, you didn’t acknowledge her—or anyone, really—unless your computer ran some error you couldn’t fix. And what business does a twenty-something secretary have with her? Married. Two degrees laced across her name. A title that held weight—Creative Director at Buzzcut Media. A salary that kept her fed, comfortable, unreachable.
You had nothing in common. So she shouldn’t care. She should look away. But she didn’t. It was thrilling to think that if she ever dared to waltz outside the moral lines she’d drawn years ago— You might just bite. Might let her have a taste of something new. But for now, Abbigail Anderson, Creative Director, forced a practiced smile to the people gathered around her desk.
“Thank you, Jannie,” she muttered, as a coworker dropped another glittery card onto her keyboard “And everyone else.”
“Oh wow, very grown up. For sure,” another voice chimed in—cool, extremely amused.
It belonged to the only person in the building who could get away with mocking her: Ellie Williams. Partners in crime, some said. Just good coworkers, they’d claim. But what happened off the clock stayed that way. Building trust. And that stupid handshake Abby always said she hated.
“Can’t let me look ridiculous for one day?” She simply shook her head.
“Knock yourself out,” Ellie replied smoothly. “Just don’t expect me not to take pictures.”
As the small side hug lingered, Ellie caught her friend’s gaze. Those blue, wandering eyes were already drifting across the floor through the glass walls—
To a woman she had no business watching.
With a gentle nudge to Abby’s side, The kind that said keep staring like that and someone’s gonna think you forgot you’re married. Only to be played it off with a cough and a half-smile.
Over time, you caught on. Watching the same eyes that watched you.
The office swarmed in its usual, mild chaos—group emails, morning chatter, balloon tape squeaking on glass walls. You watched from your desk. Quietly. Ellie grinned from a few chairs down, party hat lopsided on her head.
“And You’re officially ancient, by the way.”
Abby shot her a look over her glasses. “You’re three years behind me. Watch it.”
But she didn’t look annoyed. She looked, tired.The kind of tired that comes from too many expectations and too little air. And maybe that’s why you stood. Small gift in hand. Your own little moment. Just for her. You didn’t walk to Ellie, Didn’t linger near the group.
You stopped at Abby’s desk. Waited until she looked up.
“Happy birthday,” you said, setting it down carefully. “Didn’t think you were the balloon type.”
Her eyes flicked from the gift to your face, and lingered.
“No,” she said. “Not really.”
But she didn’t push it away either. And when your fingers brushed—just slightly—against hers as she reached for the box, She didn’t flinch.
So yes, Abby Anderson was married when you met her.
Still is. Unhappily, or so she claims. You, on the other hand, were just Stationed at the front desk, with a white smile and a laugh that made her forget she had a mortgage. That desk was right outside her office, Which made everything so easy And so much worse. You weren’t naïve. Not completely. But you didn’t push either. You just asked if she needed help with the printer. Brought her coffee without being asked. Complimented her shirts—then her voice—then her hands on days her ring was left on her bedside table.
She told herself it wouldn’t go beyond that.
Until it did.
Now you’re in her apartment. Not hers and her wife’s. A “work crash pad” she uses when she’s too tired to drive back across the city. That’s what she told you the first night she asked if you wanted to split a bottle of wine. Just wine, nothing wrong with company.
But now it’s 3:22 a.m.
And you’re half-asleep on her chest, cheek pressed to skin that still smells like expensive soap and the ghost of her perfume. Her hand’s on your waist. Still. She hasn’t moved in minutes.
But her eyes are open.
Your shirt’s hanging off your shoulders. One arm slung across her stomach like you belong there. Meanwhile Abby’s already thinking of what excuse she’ll use this time— What lie will keep the guilt at bay for just one more morning.
She whispers your name once. Barely audible, Her voice is raw, She turns her head just enough to look at you. Her eyes trace the outline of your hair against her chest. You don’t respond.
“You awake?” Her hand glides along your hip, slow. She watches the movement, like it isn’t hers. Like she’s outside her own body. Her fingers linger on the bare skin, and she lets out a breath.
“M’ Sleeping.” You mumble into her skin, trying not to sound bitter. Trying to keep the ache in your chest from crawling up your throat.
She lets out a quiet laugh—more air than sound—trailing her fingers up your spine. “Liar.”
She doesn’t stop touching you. Her hand moves like she’s reading you in braille.
“Yeah…Because if I get up… you’ll leave.”You groan, burying yourself closer into her. The weight of your words digging somewhere it shouldn’t.
She goes still. Her hand flattens against your back.
“Don’t worry.” She says it too gently, and it only pisses you off more. She presses a kiss to your forehead. Then your shoulder. She’s trying to fix it with skin, like she always does. She shifts beneath you, tangling her legs with yours. Her hand finds your chin, turning your face to hers.
“I’m not going anywhere tonight.”
You blink at her. “No? You’re gonna stay tonight?” You push a few strands from your face and lean into her, letting yourself want it for a second.
She hums in confirmation, thumb brushing along your collarbone. That tired little smile you hate loving pulls at her lips.
“Yeah… I’m gonna stay.”
She moves again, pulling you into her lap. Her hand cradles the back of your neck, pulling your face closer.
“Is that what you want?”
You nod, barely. “Yes. That’s what I want…”
You trace lazy shapes into her skin. She shivers under your touch. Her eyes flutter shut like she’s trying to burn it into her memory. Her hands slide down your thighs. “Good,” she murmurs, brushing her lips along your jaw.
You hum in response, arms draping around her neck. You let your weight rest fully against her. You want to melt. You want her to hold it all together for once. Her arms wrap around you, pulling you flush to her chest.
“You’re beautiful,” she whispers. “God… you’re so fucking beautiful.” She whispers it like a confession. Her lips press to your neck. Soft. Like she thinks gentleness will make it less wrong.
You laugh, tired. “Mhm? Beautiful enough to let me have you yet?”
You sigh, and the moment cracks. Her laugh is breathy but oddly guarded. Her grip on your waist tightens, and when her forehead touches yours, her face shifts. Something quiet and guilty takes its place.
“You can have me right now,” she murmurs, voice barely a breath. “Just like this.” As her teeth nipping at your ear.
You whisper her name. “Abs…” “That’s not what I mean.” You sigh, leaning into her neck. You know what she’s doing. Again. Always.
She’s quiet for a long time. Her fingers twitch against your thighs. When she finally speaks, her voice is tight.
“Babe…” She breathes against your cheek. “Not now. Alright? Just… not now.”
She notices. She always does. But she doesn’t know what to do with it. Her hand rests on your back, warm and careful, like she’s afraid to spook you. You stay still. Breathing slow. Your cheek on her chest. Listening to the way her heart skips when the silence stretches too long.
She swallows thickly. “I know you hate this,” she murmurs. “I hate it too.” You don’t answer. She tilts her head, cheek pressed into your hair. Her breath ghosts your scalp. “I just need more time. Okay?”
Your voice, when it finally comes, is flat. “You’ve had time.”
“I know. I know I have.” She’s nodding like it’ll make her words land easier. “I just… it’s not that simple.”
“No. It is,” you say, lifting your head slightly. “You just don’t like what that means.”
Her lips part like she wants to argue. But nothing comes out. You lie back down again—not because the answer was good enough, but because if you keep looking at her, you’ll cry. And you promised yourself you wouldn’t cry over a woman who won’t choose you.
Her hand starts to move again. Up your back. Down your arm. Like she can touch the tension out of you.
“I just need more time,” she whispers again, more desperate this time.
You nod slowly against her collarbone. But the nod doesn’t mean okay. It means I heard you.
It means I’m still here, even though I shouldn’t be.
The sunlight poured through your sheer cream-colored curtains, casting a heavy golden glow over your eyelids. The familiar smell of coffee poured into your room. That meant Nana was up. I better get up before she thinks I’m sleeping the day away, you thought. knowing how your grandmother doesn’t believe in staying in bed all day.
Nana and Papaw had been taking care of you since the days of pigtails and hiding under their wooden dining table.
You could still picture the same rocking chair on the porch where Nana would sit you down, tugging your hair into too-tight ponytails with those clunky, colorful beads at the ends. “Keep them hands out your head,” she’d warn, swatting your then small hands away.
She wasn’t being mean she just wanted it to be out of your face so you wouldn’t bump into anymore walls or track mud on the floors. They loved you. even if they were hard sometimes, that’s grandparents for you. Loving ones, anyway.
As you grew into a young woman your papaw would always pull the hem of your clothes down or ask you to put jackets on as he didn’t want men on the farm ‘getting ideas’. little did he know you weren’t the slightest bit interested in the males who came and gone on the land.
Especially after seeing her. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.
You sat up, rubbed your eyes, and swung your legs over the edge of the bed. After throwing on your usual work boots, you headed out, careful to avoid stepping in Clover’s excrement one too many times in your nice shoes. The house dog, who shadowed nana.
Making your way down the carpeted stairs to see the familiar sight of Papaw in his usual seat on the end of the couch, newspaper in hand, circling deals from the supermarket. And Nana in the kitchen making breakfast, which you always helped with.
Not feeling particularly hungry, you settled for some fruit and buttered toast. Nana raised an eyebrow at your choice but didn’t press though. However, she couldn’t resist saying, “Your stomach’s gonna be talkin’ to ya soon.” Which is just her way of saying ‘please eat later’.
You promised you would and headed out for the day.
The sun was beaming down on the grass, the air was warm complimented by the crisp breeze of the small gust of wind. pushing small pieces of hair off your lipgloss that stuck occasionally.
Meanwhile, Papaw put on his beanie to keep his head warm, no matter the weather. Along with the swish of his pants that your nana hated but it was his favorite pair. so, jokes about the noise sufficed instead of her throwing them out.
“Oh good lord” papaw groaned, as the engine of his truck struggled to keep—again. That thing was a bucket of bolts, but he wouldn’t scrap it. He loved it yet was always surprised when it broke down on occasion. through he always got it magically working again with some handyman who lived down the road apparently. They felt like a myth as you never got a chance to meet em’. “They could fix just about anything with their hands”. You just always gave papaw a pat on the shoulder when he would happily exclaimed that it was up and running again so he could continue his day.
“I’ll call Anderson,” Nana called from the doorway, shaking her head. She wished he’d just use one of the newer vehicles.
Yeah, Anderson. That was the name Papaw always dropped when talking about the helping hand. Yet, You didn’t have time to dwell on it.
Nana snapped you out of your thoughts with a teasing smile. “You’re quiet today, sugar.”
“Just thinking,” you replied.
“Well, stop all that thinkin’. Barn won’t clean itself, ya know.”
She joked and nodded towards the side door.
Welp, time to get muddy and that gross yet comforting smell that lingered as made your way to the showers. By the time you were done, your arms ached, and that earthy smell crept in.
You didn’t mind the extra elbow grease you had to put in helping on the land you used to run a muck in.
Sighing deeply, and cleaning your hands off with a rag. You made your way back to the house, to see if nana needed you to do anything else before you flopped down on your bed and spent a few hours reading.
The sounds of humming and metal clinking traveling into your earshot as you crunched down the gravel path. you were always greatful for it, as your sense of direction wasn’t the best, really. how embarrassing would it be to get lost on the land you grew up on. As you grew closer your sore eyes caught a glimpse of something that made you double take.
A Head ducked under the popped hood. One boot rested on the bumper. The other knee deep into the car, like she’d be swallowed if she leaned in any closer. White skintight top stuck to the figures toned torso. Sweat on their lower back. As your eyes trailed higher, you couldnt help but feel a little fluttered at the slight of their arms flexing with each twist, pull, and tinker. they really knew what they were doing.
The all-mighty handyman Papaw always talked about was a woman?
And woman she was indeed.
You tilted your head and took a step forward to get a better look, you couldn’t help yourself.
The crunch from behind gave her a slight startle the woman bumping her head on the hood. Dropping her tool in her hand to rub the spot. One eye shut from the sting. Your hand flew to your mouth, feeling bad for giving her such a scare. Yeah, you probably should have announced yourself.
“Damn it” she mumbled.
A pause breezes by as she steps out from under the hood of the vehicle. Still rubbing her head with a wince.“Well, that’s one way to start the day.”
“Oh my, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean—Are you okay?”
She raises an eyebrow, curiously looking you over with small smile tugging at her lips.
“Just a bump, nothing major” She laughs, wiping grease off her hands. “If your grandfather sent you over, I’m just about finished.”
She knew of you? You almost felt bad, that means your grandparents must have been embarrassing you. Telling stories and what not, but You nodded, and proceeded to make small talk and double checking that she was alright with the small bump of her head. Her voice was soft, in contrast to her appearance.
Halfway through the conversation, you both realized you hadn’t to introduce yourself properly and that’s when you finally knew her name.
Abigail ‘Abby’ Anderson.
A name that definitely suited her. now, you only hoped papaws truck broke down more often because…
she was a sight you wouldn’t mind seeing more often.
Two: causal conversation ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Yesterday,
Abby couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes would linger on her biceps during the conversation. She was used to people staring, but something about your lingering glances made her feel more self-conscious than usual.
A small part of her would come undone when you looked at her like that. But it wasn’t just physical; it was how easy the conversation came to you both... it was... nice. Not to say that Papaw wasn’t a chatter when she fixed his truck, but this was different, maybe?
She couldn’t quite place her finger on what felt so different about your short interaction with her. Before she could dive deeper into why, she gave a light chuckle, breaking the brief trace of thought.
“Well, I better finish up.” She gave the old reddish-brown truck a light pat as she turned back towards the hood.
Later, that day
You had made your way back to the main house, feeling a little embarrassingly flushed by the sight of Abby working on Papaw's car. “Miss Fix-It,” he called her, and it was damn sure fitting. He failed to mention how much of a stunner she was, you thought.
The screen door creaked open; Nana was in the kitchen when you walked in. She was at the stove, stirring a pot of what smelled like chili, and glanced your way with a raised eyebrow.
“Who was that you were talkin’ to?” She asked curiously.
“Just Abby, saying hi.” You went to the sink to wash your hands, getting any grime from the day off.
Nana stirred the pot a few more times before resting the spoon against the side.
“Mhm, ’just saying hi, huh?” She teased, a look crossing her face.
the thoughts paused. ‘Is she reading my mind?’ You brushed it off and quickly replied.
“Yeah, I hadn’t met her before today is all.” You shrugged nonchalantly. Unfortunately, Nana leaned against the counter, studying you for a moment before speaking up again.
“…Well, isn’t she a looker?”
She mentioned it casually, a sly smirk on her lips as she watched you for any kind of response. You paused and kept your eyes on your hands washing them. The warm water only adding to the slight embarrassment creeping in
“Oh, I wasn’t looking hard, but I’m sure you’re right.” You lamely brushed off. Oh, of course you were looking. It was burnt into your memory.
The sweat trickling down her forehead. Her muscles flexing with each movement. The way the wind caught her stray hairs from her braid. The lines of her waist when she lifted the hem of her shirt to wipe her forehead. Her hands, that you couldn’t help what they would feel like touching your ski—yes. You were definitely looking. Nana couldn’t know that, though. She was a gossip, and the last thing you needed was her telling anyone your business.
You went on the rest of the breezy day as usual. Remembering you told Papaw you’d check in on Delilah. The heavily pregnant cow, amongst others. As you headed out to the barn, the crisp air tickled on your skin, and you could see Delilah lounging in her usual spot. Her belly rounder than ever.
You spent some time tending to Delilah, making sure she had everything she needed. The gentle, steady presence of the expectant cow was oddly calming. Occasionally, you could hear the soft rustling of straw from the other cows and horses in the barn, a gentle reminder that life was going on around you.
As you finished up with Delilah, making sure she was fed and comfortable, you couldn't help but wonder about Abby. Nana's teasing had stuck with you, and your thoughts kept drifting back to the striking woman you'd met earlier. Was your staring really that obvious? That’s embarrassing, good lord.
The image of her broad shoulders and strong arms working on the truck kept popping into your mind, each time sending a small jolt through you. you bite your lip and shook your head. She was an acquaintance and Papaw's friend; you shouldn’t be thinking like that. Get it together.
Returning to the house, you made your way upstairs to your room. As you walked down the familiar hallway, the quiet peacefulness of the farmhouse sank in. It seemed like everyone was either resting or out working, leaving the house eerily still. As you entered your room, you noticed the soft afternoon sun streaming in through the bay window. You sank down onto your bed, the soft sheets enveloping you as you laid back and closed your eyes. Letting the day and thoughts of Miss ‘Fix It’ roll off your back.
However, as you lay there with your eyes closed, your thoughts kept drifting back to Abby… and the memory of her eyes, locked onto yours... Those eyes—you groaned. And rolled over onto your stomach, face stuffed into your pillow.
You just met this woman; stop it. Just sleep.
Today,
Eventually, the sound of Nana’s voice outside your door jerked you from dreamland.
“Girl! You better wake up before you waste the whole day!” She called out from the hallway, her voice soft but filled with determination to get you moving again.
After the refreshing shower and a change of clothes, you made your way down to the kitchen, where Nana was busying herself with preparing breakfast. Her comforting morning routine. The aroma of whatever she was cooking wafted through the air, and your stomach rumbled in anticipation. Gosh, I’m hungry.
It would be nice to have a distraction from the thoughts you were having, Miss Handywoman.
The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange. The air was still crisp, with a hint of dew on the grass. You took a deep breath, relishing the familiar scent of the farm that filled your nose.
As you made your way to the spot where Papaw’s truck was parked, you noticed something different. The usual rattle of the engine as he tried to start it was gone. It must be up and running again.
You approached the truck, and as you got closer, you saw the now-familiar figure of Abby leaning into the engine. Dressed in her work boots, a flannel, and faded jeans. She worked gracefully, her hands moving with practiced precision. The early morning sun glinted off the tools in her hand and highlighted the sweat on her brow. She hadn’t noticed you yet, her focus entirely on the task in front of her.
Should you say hi? You didn’t want to scare her like last time…. Okay, here goes.
“Good morning,” you called. Trying to not stare.
Abby looked up, surprise and then a smile crossing her features. A few loose strands of hair clung to her forehead, damp with sweat. She straightened up, using the sleeve of her shirt to wipe her brow.
“Mornin’,” she replied, her voice soft, tone that rang through your ears beautifully. She set the wrench in her hand down and leaned back against the truck, crossing her arms.
“You’re up early again, huh?”
“Oh, I guess I am, “and you are fixing that bucket of bolts again?” You joked. Abby chuckled along, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. She eyed the truck; her expression felt fond.
“Guess your Papaw just can’t help but test my skills every other week.” She teased, tapping the hood fondly with her knuckles.
“He’s bound and determined to get his money’s worth out of me.”You couldn’t help but follow the movement of her hand. What you wouldn’t do to have it on your skin.
“Well, he appreciates you coming when he calls. Talks about you all the time”, you said, glancing back to her face.
“Oh yeah? Only good things, I hope?” Her smile widened, a slightly bashful expression on her face. She ran a hand through her hair.
You reassured that it was only ever good things. Abby chuckled again at your response, picking up her wrench and resuming her work on the engine.
"Better be," she replied, "I don't need him spreading any rumors about me.” She teased, her voice light and playful as she tightened a bolt.
"But in all seriousness, I like fixing things and helping people. It's satisfying, you know? Especially when what you're working on is as stubborn as a mule, but you just keep at it..." Her words trailed off as she concentrated on the engine again.
You couldn’t help but selfishly feel disappointed. You wanted to keep the conversation going, but you had your own things to do, and she was clearly busy. Before heading out, you gave her one last once-over. drifting from her skilled hands to her face. Every now and then, she would mutter something under her breath or bite her lip, concentrating on the complex mechanical dance she was leading. It was fascinating and captivating. You could almost feel her dedication in the way she moved, in the precision of her every action. God, what else can those hands do?
You turned your head away, shaking it of those wondering thoughts.
“Well, I’ll see you around; have fun,” you said, turning on your heels to get back to your own task. Abby looked up from under the hood, giving you a questionable look, but seeing the glance you were so not subtly giving her, she smiled.
“Uh huh, sure you will. See ya round, yeah?”
She said in a sing-song tone, almost knowing full well the effect she was having on you. As she watched you walk away.
The day went on as usual, your chores and duties keeping you busy. But, much like a melody that gets stuck in your mind, Abby’s voice and smile crept their way back into your thoughts every now and again. You tried to resist the urge to think about her or the way her muscles flexed when she leaned over the truck… Nope, you shook your head. Focus. Focus.
Jesus, it’s been two days, and she’s already driving you up a wall from casual conversation?
What the hell were you going to do now?
Three: late night ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
By the time the sun was setting, the barn was cleaned, and the livestock were fed and tucked in for the night. Before heading into the house to wash up, you stopped by the driveway, wanting to see if Papaw’s truck looked any better.
The last thing you saw was Abby’s yellow toolbox resting on the bumper, confirming she’d left for the day. Oddly, you enjoyed the sight. It was almost like she left behind a small part of her.
As night fell, you tried to get some rest, but unfortunately your thoughts went wandering back to the handywoman. You cursed yourself for thinking about her so much.
The memory of her, focused, knee-deep in the hood of the car, was too stubborn to be ignored. Tossing and turning, every time your eyes closed, she would appear in your mind.
Ugh!
You eventually gave up on sleep, kicking off the tangled fuzzy blankets and sitting up in bed. A small creak followed your movements. You had a crush, no doubt. Abby was like a stubborn splinter you just couldn’t get rid of. You decided some cold air might help clear your head and quiet your racing thoughts.
A small annoyance crept in: not being able to sleep over a woman you barely knew? Felt pathetic, downright.
With it being too late to phone a friend, a walk sounded like the most sound decision. You tiptoed down the carpeted stairs, onto the worn wood. Creaking open the side door, you saw Clover settled in sound sleep on the corner of the porch. Your house slippers softly padded down the gravel and dirt path, needing to clear your mind.
Outside, the night air was comforting. The stars against the black-blue sky. crickets somewhat replacing the noisy thoughts in your head. You’d been walking about for a good while, enjoying the peace and quiet of the night, when suddenly, an unfamiliar sound cut through the silence. It was coming from nearby. A series of soft clangs and muffled cursing.
You knew approaching wasn't the best decision, but who would be on your family’s land at this hour? Were they doing something they weren’t supposed to? Or maybe lost?
You crept closer to the noise, not wanting to make a sound just in case. As you neared down the path, you spotted a soft glow coming from the open garage door of a barn. a figure silhouetted against the warm light within.
The cursing got a little louder and more colorful, but with a familiarity to it. Then, as you came to a stop beside the open door, the mystery was solved. There, still dressed in her work clothes, was Abby, kneeling beside a familiar black truck. She was clearly having car troubles.
“You alright?” You called out, arms crossed.
Abby jumped at the sound of your voice, not expecting anyone else to be around at this hour, especially not you.
"Oh! You scared me!” She exclaimed, a hand over her chest, eyes wide from the surprise. You were going to give her a heart attack at this rate. Maybe you should start wearing a bell, to keep from scaring her for a third time.
“Sorry! Sorry!” You said, lips falling into a small frown. Abby shook her head, a soft, warm chuckle escaping her lips.
"Nah, don’t apologize. It’s my own fault for being so focused I didn’t hear you come up."
She shifted on her knees, pushing back a brown strand of hair that fell on her face. She looked worn down but still so, so gorgeous.
“It’s late…Why aren’t you home?” You asked, tilting your head. Scanning over the clear frustration on her face. She shrugged, her gaze returning to the truck's engine as she spoke.
"Eh, I've always been a bit of a night owl. Plus, this old rust bucket decided to give me a few more problems.” She gestured to the vehicle, a hint of frustration in her voice.
Abby went on to explain that she’d be out here in the dark for around an hour, give or take. It was almost cartoonish how upset she was. Honestly though, after a long day of work, your car not working would definitely have steam blowing out of anyone’s ears.
You watched as she reached for a rag and wiped some grease off her hands. Picking up on the small habit of constantly cleaning off her hands while working.
You sat arms crossed listening the best you could. She did help out around the land; the least you could do was listen. Although this definitely wasn’t helpful in the ‘clearing my mind from Abby’ department.
"This thing just doesn’t want to cooperate; it’s been a real pain in the ass.”
“Can’t get home in that, huh?” You asked rhetorically.
"Not unless I enjoy walking the five miles back home. And trust me, no one wants to see me do that after a day’s work.” She gave the stubborn vehicle a light kick with her hard boot. Frustrated to hell.
“Need me to drive you? I don’t mind…” “I can’t sleep anyway, car ride might help” You sighed and honestly hoped she would accept the offer. More chit-chat would be nice, especially if she insisted on not leaving your brain while you tried to rest.
"You'd really do that for me?" Abby looked up at you, a mix of surprise and gratefulness in her eyes. She asked, clearly caught off guard by your offer. A moment of pause filled the air as she seemed to think over your offer. Then, a warm smile spread across her face."Ah, I suppose that wouldn’t hurt. I think I’ve hit a stalemate with this thing anyway."
You felt a rush of excitement goosebump your skin. Relax; she just wants to get home.
Small talk filled the air. She followed you down the familiar path towards the garage, her heavy work boots grinding against the gravel. As you both entered the garage, the silence of the night was briefly interrupted by the soft clicks and whirs of various machines and tools. Abby slumped back into the truck's passenger seat, her exhaustion showing on her face. Eyelids heavy.
She gave you directions as you navigated through the dark country roads, passing over gravel and occasionally potholes. The ride was mostly silent, save for the hum of the truck’s engine and your occasional question to confirm the right way. You couldn’t help but feel soothed by her small hum, another small habit you’d noticed.
As the vehicle crested a small hill, you approached a cozy, yet modest cottage with a few other outlying buildings. Soft yellow light spilled from the windows, casting a warm glow over the property.
"Thanks, for driving me…really."
Abby unbuckled her seatbelt, preparing to get out of the truck. A small zip followed. She placed a hand on the black door handle before pausing, turning back to you. "Hey…You sure you’ll be alright getting home this late? Don’t want you to get jumped by a badger or some other wild animal.”
“Oh? I can handle myself, thank you” you laughed. Abby chuckled, a hint of a smirk on her face.
"I don't doubt that. Just…promise me you’ll lock your doors, alright? And no more walks in the middle of the night." She teased, one boot hanging out the door.
“Only if you promise to look over your shoulder more,” you joked back since she clearly startled easily. Abby rolled her eyes; a huffed laugh followed.
"Oh, so I’m being lectured on safety now, huh? Is that what this is?" She placed a hand on her hip, looking you over with curiosity.
“Just dishing it back out is all.”
"Mhm, always gotta get the last word, hm?"
She chuckled, a flicker of challenge in her eyes. "Alright, fair enough. I’ll look over my shoulder, and you stay out of the fields after dark. Deal?"
“Deal.” You had to feel those hands, so you said, “We shaking on it?” Abby glanced down at your offered hand, a smirk on her lips. She looked back up at you, that beautiful twinkle in her eye.
"Oh, you’re going for the old-fashioned handshake, huh? Sure, I’m in." She placed her greasy hand in yours, giving it a firm squeeze.
The handshake was solid, sending a small tingle down your arm. Abby laughed, a soft, genuine sound that made the corners of her eyes crinkle. She slowly released your hand.
"Goodnight. Get back safe, ya hear?"
She stepped out of the truck, waving goodbye. The porch light flickered on as she disappeared into the cottage, the door closing behind her with a soft click.
The drive home was a mix of silence and the hum of the engine, your mind wandering back to the encounter. You thought about the way she laughed, how her hand felt in yours. Strong but gentle. You felt a little silly getting all worked up over a simple handshake, but you couldn’t help it.
For some reason she had gotten under your skin in the best way possible.
Four: Shear luck ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Early march on the farm,
The days were getting longer, the nights shorter. The temperature had turned milder, and flowers were beginning to bloom.
A warm breeze carried the scent of spring through the air. You found yourself eagerly watching the tulips bud and blossom, their green stems giving way to red and orange petals, bees already hovering over them like supper
With the warmer weather, it was time to get down on your knees and shear the sheep. You knew you’d be blowing white hair out of your nose for a week after each session. The slight itch of stray strands clinging to your skin wasn’t exactly fun, but seeing the sheep happily bouncing around afterward always made it worth it.
The night she’d let you drive her home rushed back into your mind. The twitch of a smile that ghosted Abby’s lips when you held out your hand to her. The small head tilt she did when she was taken aback by something you said or deep in thought. For a moment, your heart was still racing, but as the sleepy haze faded, you took a deep breath and sat completely up.
Yes, there were other farmhands who would do it, but you’d been subconsciously waking up earlier in the past few days. Why not get a head start?
Oh lord, now you were starting your day thinking about her?
You groaned into the air and rubbed your heavy eyelids. Why on earth was this affecting you so much? She was just a farmhand. And an attractive one, sure, but you’d met attractive people before. So why was she different?
With a huff, you threw off the covers and got up, determined to get your mind off her. With Papa's truck running sweetly, you felt relief breeze over. That meant no Abby for a while. Plenty of time to sort yourself and these lingering thoughts out. You were going to straighten them like an iron to a wrinkly shirt.
You had a farm to help run. Plenty of things to keep your mind from wandering to her.
Trucking your way down the path to the sheep’s pen, a metal bucket of supplies swinging with each step. You enjoyed the soft hum of the razor when carefully peeling layers of wool off the sheep, like an onion.
White hairs flew in the air, blowing away some others stuck to your clothes. The pink-white face of the sheep, known to be a bit more stubborn, rested on your thigh as you carefully shaved back a layer of wool. Revealing the pinkish-white skin underneath.
The hum had died out, indicating a piece had gotten stuck inside the blade. No big deal; you always carefully removed it and continued on your merry way to finish the job. But today, when you turned your back to the ewe lamb, she’d curiously wandered off.
As she disappeared from your line of sight, you continued to get the blade up and running again. She wasn’t going anywhere; she was enclosed.
When the buzz finally returned, you sighed with relief. Then you laughed to yourself thinking about how if this was Papaw, he’d probably call Miss ‘Fix-It’ to come to his rescue. You’d swear if that man wasn't married, he’d keep Abby for himself. She was useful and dependable, though, at least that’s what he said.
Then horror washed over your face.
The small sheep was wiggling her way through the crack of the not-fully-pushed-in gate.
“Oh no, no, no!”
You quickly shot up and tried to make your way over in a calm manner to freak it out or encourage it to run. The sound of its feet pushing past the wood, causing your heart rate to shoot up higher.
You slowly bent down, hand hovering over its leg, when damn it, it saw you and forced its way through completely. The small half-shaved creature was now roaming out the pen.
You felt like a fool, shooting for the stars before you were fully awake; now you’d let a sheep loose. Great.
It had been around thirty minutes of chasing around the woolly troublemaker. She’s disappeared from your field of vision.
You cursed to yourself. Head hung down, catching the muddied reflection on the tops of your boots. A pout smacked onto your face, ugh.
You wiped your brow of sweat and defeatedly pushed off the oak tree you’d been resting on.
Clover would round up the lamb; you wished you would’ve remembered that before you ran around like a chicken with her head cut off.
Legs sore, out of breath, and hair stuck to you in places you’d rather it not be.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
The sound was growing louder behind you, and you tiredly turned to face the individual behind you.
It felt like a prayer had been answered; there she was! Happy as can be, like you hadn’t been losing your mind all morning. Then following the rope up to the hand holding it.
Abby, that ghosted smile on her lips.
“Missin’ Something?” She teased, nodding towards the little sheep.
“Oh, thank heavens! Where’d you find her?”
You took the lead from her calloused hands, keeping your cool at the slight brush of fingers.
“She wandered all the way down to the edge of my place. Looks like you are having a day, huh?” Abby chuckles, leaning her hands on her hips. boots scuffed, sleeves rolled up, and that small smirk that makes your heart stutter a little.
“A day? Please,” you brush off, embarrassed.
“Sureee,” Abby drawls out, biting back another laugh. “Just racing a lamp for fun? Gotta try it sometime then.”
“Yeah, yeah, thanks,” you murmured out.
“No problem,” Abby replies, patting your shoulder a tad firmer than she probably realized. “Next time, maybe try not letting’ her outsmart you, huh?”
Abby chuckled under her breath before tipping her hat, heading back to her land. You sat there, watching her figure grow smaller with the distance.
You sighed deeply and turned on your heels, taking a moment to look over your shoulder and feeling a small flutter as you saw her head turn back as if she’d done the same.
“What a morning,” you huffed, boots carrying yourself back to the pen. Double-checking the lock.
How embarrassing
Five: Held up in the rain ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
You weren’t sure if you were just more aware of her presence or if she’d actually been around more these past few days. Nonetheless, the small sway of her brown hair and the sound of her work boots against the ground became a familiar occurrence.
One you didn’t mind one bit.
But last Wednesday is still stuck in the back of your mind. You were down with a small cold, so soup and a lazy day were your savior. You got up to stretch, bones cracking with an oddly satisfying sound. The room feeling a bit stuffy, you went over to open the window above your desk, but the figure a few feet below made your hands pause. Abby, miss handywoman herself.
You wondered what she was doing here so early, but instead of calling out, you took a few moments to admire and be nosy. She’d been out chatting with another farmhand; she seemed familiar with the man. Owen had helped you around the land a few times with projects that required more than just you. Eh, you thought. You turned your heel to return to bed when he snaked his arm around her shoulder, and she didn’t even flinch.
The hell.
He was okay looking, you supposed, but you couldn’t help but feel sick at the sight. It was a harmless gesture, hopefully... yeah, No way they were a thing. Oh, wow, you were getting territorial over her. You pinched the bridge of your nose, embarrassed.
Sure you two hadn’t outright flirted, but it couldn’t have been in your head, right??
Or were you just borderline pining for her?
It was too early to ask such questions; she’d think you were nuts. Correction, More nuts since she’d seen you chasing around that escaped lamb.
You tried to shake off last Wednesday, but you couldn’t help the small twist in your gut at how comfortable he looked. Probably just a friendly gesture; relax.
The following few days the skies had been a bit cloudy but still warm with a small cast of sun peeking down. That same fence the lamb escaped from was found to be broken. It definitely made me feel less embarrassed, but what didn’t is Nana asking you to call Abby on the house phone to see if she could come fix it.
Talking to her on the phone made you uneasy for some reason. You took a deep breath and pressed the grey buttons with the number she’d had written down on our fridge.
‘Always down the road if you need me xxx-xx—Anderson’
The small heart she drew next to it was cute, soft. She really was just a woman underneath all that grit.The sound of a soft sigh and click made you rock on your heels a bit. Holding the phone close to the shell of your ear.
“Hello?” She said, sounding like she had just gotten up.
“Heya, Abby, did I wake you?” You asked sympathetically.
You jumped at the sound of her clearing her throat and rustling on the other line. Almost like she had just suddenly sat up straight.
“Hey! No, I’m up…I’m up; what’s going on?”
Her voice much clearer now.
You twisted the red cord of the house phone talking to her. Explaining the situation and seeing if she was free. She wasn’t at the moment but said she’d be over in an hour or so. You thanked her and said goodbye, letting her hang up first.
A beat of soft breathing passed, then she spoke up.
“Alrighty then, see you…”
Was this awkward that you both had said bye and yet neither one of you had hung up yet… or confirming your thoughts of the past few weeks not just being ‘nothing.’.
You laughed awkwardly and eventually clicked the phone to hang up.
As much as your mind was jumbled mess, it would be nice to see her face. Nana was teasing but said she’d brought by a box of tissues for you. How sweet, driving five miles just for that. You were lost in thought thinking about all these unspoken moments happening between you and the all mighty miss ‘fix-it’
You didn’t even notice how crazy you must’ve looked, hand still on the phone, giggling to yourself.
You pulled yourself together and straightened up. You still have chores to do yourself; maybe you could see the sleep last so you could see Abby for a bit while she worked. To thank her for the tissues, nothing more.
The afternoon had grown a grey color, a small shadow of clouds falling down. You being much too distracted with doing other things hasn’t noticed the sudden stillness of the wind.
You’d been mid small talk with Abby, watching her nail a few things in place when you felt a droplet on your shoulder. The cold sensation caught you off guard, but Abby asking you to hold a nail still snapped you out of it. The closeness to her definitely made your heart speed up a bit. You could count the freckles on her cheeks if you wanted, but you focused on helping her.
“Just hold that still for me,” she asked.
You nodded and let her finish up with your minor help when the first crack of thunder rolled past.
The next thing you two know, Abby's hat brim was filling with rainwater. The heavy downpour wasn’t sudden, but you’d been too distracted to notice. Great.
“Damn it to hell—come on!” You weren’t sure if you were impressed or startled by the firm grip she had on your wrist, pulling you to your feet. Dropping the nails you had in hand. You both retreated to the nearby barn.
With heavy breathing, you leaned against a wooden beam. Clothes soaked and sticking to you, uncomfortably.
“You alright?” You asked her, glancing over to her shaking off her hat.
“Yeah, just drenched,” she replied, gesturing to herself.
“You and you both,” you laughed and looked away from her tee that was definitely a little more see-through with the rain soaked into it, whew.
When the rain began to ease and Abby moved to check outside, you blurted out, “Thanks, by the way.”
“…For what?” She glanced back at you, brows lifted slightly, with that cute head tilt.
“Oh, uh, the tissues. That was… thoughtful of you.”
“Didn’t think it was a big deal. You needed them, so…” Abby’s lips twitched into the faintest smile, and she gave a small, nonchalant shrug.
“Well, it was sweet,” you said quickly, feeling a little flustered as her gaze lingered on you.
Her smile grew, though she didn’t say anything else. Instead she turned to stop herself from the smile growing further. She opened the barn door just enough to peek outside, gesturing for you to follow as the drizzle began to slow.When you got back to the house, Nana was in the kitchen, stirring a pot on the stove. She turned to greet you with a knowing look. “Storm catch y’all off guard?”
“Sure did,” you muttered, setting your muddy boots by the door.
Abby offered a polite nod. “Rain came out of nowhere, but we got everything squared away.”
Nana’s eyes flicked between you and Abby, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Well, it’s good to have help around. Lord knows she can’t do it all herself,” she said, nudging you lightly.
“Don’t I know it,” Abby teased, her voice playful. Shooting you a small wink, then back to your grandmother.
Before you could retort, Papaw’s voice called from the living room. “She can handle herself just fine. Ain’t that right, girl?”
You winced at his tone, a little sharper than usual. Clearly not a fan of the insinuation. Nana shot you a look that said, Don’t start anything, before turning back to her pot.
“Well, we’re grateful for the help anyway,” she said, her voice light but pointed.
“I should get going. Thanks for letting me dry off here.” Abby seemed to pick up on the subtle tension, clearing her throat as she glanced toward the door.
Six: Hands on, Hands off ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
This morning the air was unmistakably thick with the smell of damp earth, the last traces of last night’s rain still clinging to the fields of the land. Your yellow rubber boots carried you as your mind was elsewhere. The sound of dry skin rang out as you rubbed your hands together, trying to push away the stiffness in your fingers as you made your way toward the barn. Today was supposed to be like any other, with chores, routine, and keeping yourself busy.
And yet, all you could think about was the lingering weight of yesterday. The phone call. The way neither of you had hung up right away. The distaste in Papaw’s voice. And, of course, her.
You shook your head, setting your shoulders. Enough of that. Enough of this damn near yearning. If you can even call it that. I mean what was going on? It was starting to irritate you if anything.
A silky voice cut through your thoughts. Low, familiar.
“You always look this serious, or is that just for me?”
You jumped at the sudden voice and turned to meet it. Abby, wiping her forehead with the hem of her shirt. Giving you a clear view of her midriff, Jesus. You quickly picked your eyes up before she glanced back up to meet your gaze. Just for her? Okay, she’s just teasing now.
“Pfft, just you,” you chuckled.
A thoughtful hum came from her, almost like she was approving of your answer. Things had been a little…awkward since the storm. You had been cutting conversations shorter, needing to get a grip on this schoolgirl crush. You are grown, damn it! Plus you aren’t even sure what all this could mean, too afraid to ask. Much too early to tell.
Since the storm, any worn wood had taken a hit during. Wobble here, loose there, a mess.
“Make yourself useful; they could use the extra hands,” Papaw said, newspaper in hand.
So you did. Adding yourself to the bodies scattered around the farm. A part of you enjoyed days like this; it could be a bit lonely when you weren’t in town or the loud city. Home is nice but too quiet at times. You’d been working at arm's length from her all day, and now you two had to work together. Great.
She was knelt beside you, the heat of her body mingled with yours. Working with the animals most days, you weren’t sure how to reinforce a fence with new nails without it looking like an arts and crafts project. Abby’s guidance was more than helpful; the slight praise when you did something right definitely made the nonexistent room you were in feel hotter.
“Here, grip it like this—yeah, just like that. You don’t want to hold it too tight, or you’ll throw yourself off balance.” Abby, when from hovering to standing close behind, occasionally reaching over to adjust your grip, her calloused hands settling over yours. Her voice is always in that low, steady tone.
“Loosen up a little—relax; I got you.”
Oh, she was killing you. Her chest almost grazing your back, head damn near on your shoulder. You weren’t sure if you wanted to run, scream, kick her away, or do all of them.
You kept your cool and let her show you what she needed to. Work still needed to be done regardless of how flustered you were feeling. The occasional brush of her tan kissed skin against your own made you feel a little dizzy.
A deep sigh fell out as you finally finished with the damn fence. After hammering into more than you can count, the two of you were standing by the barn, the scent of wet land still fresh in the air. Abby had a length of thick rope in her hands, casually twisting it between her fingers as she explained.
“Tying a good knot isn’t about forcing it—it’s about letting the rope do what it’s meant to. Feel it, don’t fight it,” she said, stepping closer. “Cmere, let me show you.”
She took your hands in hers, rough fingertips brushing against your palms as she guided them. You swallowed, focusing hard on the rope instead of the warmth of her touch.
“See? You keep hesitating right here,” Abby murmured, her voice low. She adjusted your grip, fingers pressing gently over yours. “Just let it loop through, like this.”
You nodded and listened the best you could. You weren’t sure if it was the knot-tying or the fact that Abby was this close—her breath warm against your skin, the faint smell of her shampoo lingering. This was that softer side of her you grew fond of. Gentle but firm when needed.
Then, footsteps crunched against the gravel path behind you. You felt a bit of relief for the distraction until you saw who the figure was. Sigh.
“Well, would you look at this,”
Owen’s voice cut through the moment, light and teasing. “Abby Anderson is giving hands-on lessons now? Thought you didn’t have the patience for that.”
Abby didn’t pull away immediately, but she did loosen her hold on your hands, stepping back just slightly. She glanced at Owen with an easy smirk. “Some people are worth the effort.”
Those familiar laughs that made it clear he and Abby had history, even if it wasn’t anything serious.
“Didn’t know you had a soft spot, Anderson,” Owen grinned, nudging her playfully.
Your stomach fell a little more than you should have. You didn’t have a right to feel jealous or anything of the sort, not really. But watching the way he leaned into her space, how comfortable he was with her, it sent a slow burn of irritation through your chest. Abby must’ve noticed, because when Owen finally left, she turned back to you, arms crossed, lips quirked in amusement. Those feelings from Wednesday were clear as day on your face. Abby studied you for a long moment before speaking. Her hand fixing the strap on your overalls before pulling back.
“Y’know, if looks could kill, Owen’d be a goner.”
Your face burned. “I wasn’t—”
“Mhm,” she hummed, not looking convinced. A slow smile tugged at her lips as she reached for the rope again, holding it out to you. “C’mon, Show me that knot one more time.”
You huffed a playful sigh and went back to focusing. You weren’t sure why his presence bugged you so much, or maybe you did? Regardless, she was free woman it was best you didn’t medal in business that wasn’t yours.
Seven: A Fair trade ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Summer was full of sweating through gray shirts, shaving until your skin was red, and, most importantly, the annual farmers market, the one event you actually looked forward to.
You grunted as you wiped sweat from your forehead, pushing up the wooden stand until it was at least semi-straight. It wasn’t perfect, but it would hold.
Nana and Papaw were already laying out our goods homemade wooden crafts, jars of preserves, and fresh fruit so ripe the juice would run down your chin. The market was alive with movement, packed with bodies and city folk gawking at non-artificially tainted foods like they’d stumbled into some mythical past. Pricing them way higher than needed but hey, you weren’t telling. You focused on setting out more things, but Papaw’s voice cut through your thoughts.
“Keep your head on straight,” he said, not even looking up as he arranged a line of jams.
You frowned, glancing at him. “Huh? I am.”
What was he on about, you prayed it had nothing to do with abby. He made a noise, something between a grunt and a sigh.
“Mhm. Just saying’. Been seeing’ a lot of you ‘round Anderson, lately.” You rolled your eyes, irritation prickling at your skin hotter than the sun beating down.
“And..? She’s helpin’ fix the fence. Y’know, the one that needed fixin’?”
Papaw didn’t push, but you caught the small shake of his head before you turned back to work, biting your tongue. This was family time, whatever he was sitting on could wait. You told yourself to relax, not to dig too deep. Not now.
Whatever his issue was, it wasn’t yours. Of course you’d been around the farmhand! She basically lives there, it’s not like you’d been going out of your way to see what she’s up. No, you’d only been offering her cold drinks and helping hands for efficiency purposes…yeah, totally that. You were in the middle of setting out more wooden trinkets when a smaller shadow fell over the stand.
“Are these yours?”
You looked up, expecting another customer, but instead, a boy..maybe sixteen or seventeen, stood there, holding up a small carved horse you’d made. His brown eyes were curious, fingers tracing over the details.
“Yeah,” you answered. “You interested?”
Before he could respond, another voice, one much more familiar cut in from the next stall over.
“Didn’t think I’d see you peddlin’ your goods out here.”
There was that beautiful distraction, it was almost like you could feel when she was around. The wind would shift and goosebumps would run down your skin. Abby stood next to her own stand, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at her lips. She was dressed the same way she always was worn jeans, a simple tee, hair braided back but something about her presence made the market feel a little smaller, a little warmer. That same softness.
“Gotta make a livin’ somehow,” you shot back, trying to ignore the way your pulse jumped.
Abby picked up one of your trinkets, turning it over in her hand. “You any good at this?” she asked, tossing the question toward the boy. “Or am I going to regret buying?”
“Guess we’ll find out,” he replied, smirking like they shared some inside joke.
You narrowed your eyes, glancing between them. “You break it, you buy it.”
Abby’s smirk deepened, but she said nothing. Instead, she placed the trinket back down and leaned casually against her stand. For a few minutes, business went on as usual. people coming and going, picking through the goods, but you kept catching glimpses of Abby. And, more annoyingly, you weren’t the only one.
Someone stopped by her stand, a young woman, maybe mid-twenties, clearly interested in more than just whatever Abby was selling. You weren’t listening to their conversation, but you could hear the way Abby’s voice dipped into something easy, something familiar.
And for some reason, it made your stomach twist. She had nothing on you though…right? Oh Christ, stop it! There’s no need to put her down just because she’s near a woman who has her free will. Sigh. You went back to organizing jars with more force than necessary.
“…You get this weird look on your face whenever Abby talks to people. You know that, right?”
You stiffened, turning to see the boy, who was still hanging around. Watching you with clear amusement.
“I don’t— what—” you started, but he just raised an eyebrow. Nearby, Abby was still talking, but she had definitely heard. Embarrassment creeping in. That Heat crawled up your neck. You focused on your work, refusing to acknowledge either of them.
Eventually, the day wound down. Stalls started packing up, and you wiped your hands on your jeans, exhausted but satisfied.
Just as you were about to start loading things into the truck, Abby wandered over. She picked up one of the last jars of preserves and examined it like she was actually considering the purchase.
“Hey, you …Reckon this is a fair trade?” she asked, holding it up before swapping it with something from her own stand. You glanced at what she handed you—a small, well-crafted wooden charm, simple but sturdy, And oddly painted in your favorite color. She’d picked up on that? ..that’s sweet
Before you could respond, the boy—who had finally wandered back over—spoke up again.
“Oh yeah, Abby’s got a thing for homegrown stuff.”
You blinked. “Wait—you two are…?”
Abby, already stepping away, gave a lazy nod.
“He’s my kid brother.”
That threw you. Before you could piece together a response, she patted your shoulder.
“Guess I’ll be seein’ you around, farmer girl.”
And just like that, she was gone, leaving you standing there, jar in hand, heart pounding for reasons you weren’t quite ready to admit. Mixing with a bit of joy to know more about her.
Eight: A glimpse of truth ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
The wooden charm hit the floor with a dull thud, but in your half-asleep state, you mistook it for the sound of your alarm and slammed the snooze button for the second time.
You’d earned a slow morning. With family visiting, you’d put in extra work the night before, making sure everything was in order so you could take your time getting up without guilt. No mud-streaked clothes, no sweat running down your back before noon—just a morning to yourself.
Sitting up, you yawned and stretched, running your fingers through the tangled fairy knots in your hair before grabbing a comb. Your eyes flickered toward your bedside table, where the wooden charm now rested.
You hadn’t spoken to Abby much since the market, not because you were avoiding her, but…well, maybe you were. Not on purpose, but the lingering weight of Papaw’s words settled heavy in your mind.
“Keep your head on straight.”
It was stupid. You knew it was. He loved you, always had. He was just…traditional. That’s all. It wasn’t a big deal. Right?
You exhaled through your nose, shaking the thought away as you pulled yourself together. No point in lingering on something you weren’t ready to unpack.
Downstairs, the house buzzed with conversation, the scent of fresh biscuits and coffee thick in the air. You stepped into the kitchen, immediately met with the sight of family gathered around, familiar faces and warm voices filling the space.
“Well, look who finally decided to wake up,” one of your aunts teased, arms crossed with a knowing smirk.
“Had to sleep in after all that work I did,” you shot back easily, stealing a biscuit off the counter before Nana could swat your hand away.
The chatter continued, questions flying back and forth, laughter filling the room. It was nice, this—family being around, the nosy teasing that came and went with love.
Then the godawful repeated question,
“So, you got yourself a boyfriend yet?”
The question landed casually, but it made your stomach twist. You hesitated just a second too long, biscuit halfway to your mouth. Papaw was at the table, flipping through a newspaper, seemingly uninterested in the conversation but you knew he was listening.
“Oh, leave her alone,” Nana’s voice cut in before you could figure out how to dodge the question. “She’ll tell us when there’s something worth telling.”
The tensions small it barely had time to settle was gone, just like that. The subject shifted, laughter picked up again, and you took a slow breath, shoulders easing. You glanced at Nana, but she wasn’t looking at you. Just kept on kneading dough like nothing had happened.
A short memory flickered, Nana shushing similar questions when you were younger, always deflecting when anyone pried too much about who you were interested in. Your chest tightened, warmth curling behind your ribs. She knew. She’d always known. And she didn’t see you any differently.
The day passed lazily, family filling the house, conversation and meals stretching long into the afternoon. You didn’t think about Abby..not too much, anyway but as you stood near the open window, watching the evening settle over the land, movement caught your eye. Down the gravel path, back covered in sweat, Abby walked with an tired sway, probably heading home for the day.
When The words left your mouth before you could think twice.
“Hard working or hardly working, Anderson?”Abby glanced up, shielding her eyes from the sun. Her smirk was immediate.
“I’ve done my work, you get back to lazing around!”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up. She was only joking. you both had rest days, and she knew damn well how hard you worked. Still, as she walked on, disappearing down the path, you found yourself staring at the empty space she was once in.
Laying down for the night, your fingers found that charm again.
Nine: Lovers’ quarrel ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
“Thanks again.” You said a little too quickly.
The words were clipped short, barely more than a breath, as you set down the box and turned to go. You didn’t look at Abby. You hadn’t looked at her much these past few weeks, not really. You honestly couldn’t. it wasn’t on purpose, that there was just too much going on. Family coming and going, chores piling up, Papaw’s watchful gaze always feeling a little heavier than before. That distaste on the tip of his tongue.
But that wasn’t the truth.
The truth was, you weren’t sure what to do with all the feelings tangled up inside you.
Jealousy sat at the pit of your stomach, strong and stupid. The way Abby laughed with Owen, the way she smiled easy at that lady at the market, Ugh. it had your chest twisting more than needed. And then there was Abby herself, with her ridiculous small touches, the teasing words, the way she’d smile when she knew she had your attention. She gave you crumbs. And you hated how you were basically starving for them. For her. So, you pulled away. Bit by bit. Maybe if you distanced yourself, you’d stop wanting.
But Abby, This Abby, wasn’t the type to let things slide. So, why were you surprised when she cut you off causing your heels to stop in their path with:
“Y’know…,” her voice came, casual but edged with something else, “if you’re gonna keep avoidin’ me, at least put some effort into it.”
You halted. Slowly, you turned back. She’d noticed, of course she did. You came to face a slightly tensed Abby. She was watching you, arms crossed over her chest, eyes lined with something unreadable.
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” You lied right through the skin of your teeth, not wanting this conversation to take place. Not knowing what it would unlock, if anything.
“Yeah?” She scoffed, shaking her head. “C’mon, don’t do that.”
The heat rose to your face before you could stop it. you weren’t sure how to reply to her, so you choked up whatever came out first.
“Do what?” You knew exactly what. Feeling guilt climbing from somewhere you’d rather it not. She was pushing on a place she shouldn’t.
“Act like I’m just makin’ shit up.” Her brows pulled together, frustration creeping in. “You’ve been different. Ever since the market, maybe before that.”
“Ain’t nothin’ changed. Will you relax?” Your jaw clenched down.
“Bullshit!” Abby stepped closer, her presence all-consuming, and you hated how your pulse jumped at the nearness. “You don’t talk to me the same. Don’t look at me the same. Hell— I barely see you anymore unless it’s in passing.” She wasn’t wrong. And that made it worse. Your fingers curled into your palms, nails pressing into skin as the words slipped out, unfiltered and bitter.
“Maybe you should be talkin’ to someone else then, seems like you got plenty of options.”
The second it left your mouth, you regretted it. Abby’s expression shifted, something flickering behind her eyes before her head tilted. But it wasn’t that cute head tilt it was one of defense.
“What was that?” She asked, and boy Your stomach twisted.
“Nothin’.” “Dismiss that, I’m just talking out my ass”
“Nah.” Abby took another step forward, her voice softer now, but no less intense. “Go on.” You swallowed hard, unable to meet her gaze. You weren’t about to say it again. Weren’t about to admit what was really brewing, not if she wasn’t going to say Anything outright. Why should you?
So, instead, you shook your head and muttered, “Forget it.” A beat of silence stretched between you. Then Abby exhaled sharply, her frustration giving way to something else.
“Fine,” she said finally, voice cool, “it’s forgotten”
And just like that, she turned and walked away. You let the tension sit in your chest for the rest of the evening. It gnawed at you, made your skin itch.
So, that happened. Sigh, you found yourself at the stall with the newborn calves, feeding them in the quiet. Their little pink noses nudged at your hands, soft and warm, pulling a tired smile from you. Today— the past few weeks have been mental gymnastics. You just wanted a bit of solace. Hell, even a crumb would do. It was starting to pile up, weighing down.
The sound of footsteps made you roll your eyes so far you swear you saw your brain for a moment. Then, of course she wasn’t going to let the conversation end like that.
Abby wasn’t looking at you at first, just setting down a small sack of feed. Awkwardly putting her hands in gas’s stained jeans.
“Figured they could use some extra,” she muttered.
This wasn’t about the cows. She stayed still, waiting.
And maybe it was the way she’d come back instead of leaving things unfinished. Maybe it was the way she’d always been the one to reach out first, even when she was just as caught up in this mess as you were. But for the first time in weeks, you let yourself meet her halfway. Might as well, you sighed.
A truce
Your hand lifted, slow and hesitant, before brushing across the broad plane of her back. Just a light touch, the warmth of it lingering.
Abby stilled at first, then exhaled, shoulders dropping slightly as she let herself lean into it.
No words needed. Not yet.
As you dusted off your hands of feed and turned to leave the stall, you glanced at Abby over your shoulder, a teasing found in your voice.
“…Didn’t know me avoidin’ you bugged you that much.”
Abby scoffed, rolling her eyes, a hesitant pause fell. Letting you close up, taking one last look at the calf. Then, just as you were stepping away, she muttered, half under her breath but loud enough for you to catch.
“Yeah, well… guess I’m not used to wantin’ someone to stick around.”
By the time you turned back, she was already busying herself with heading back, like she hadn’t just said something that made your chest tighten. You wanted to call her back, make her repeat herself…but she clearly wasn’t ready to be more direct. we’re either one of you? Past small touches and jokes?
The questions stayed there, as you stared at that small charm on you bedside later that night.
Ten: A close call ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
The house was tense. It had been for days now. You could feel it before you even reached the middle of the carpeted stairs, voices rising and falling in the kind of hushed argument that still carried enough weight to settle heavy in your chest.
“She ain’t doin’ nothin’ wrong,” Nana said, voice steady but edged with warning.
“It isn’t right.” Papaw’s voice was gruff, tired, but firm.
“Ain’t right by who, exactly?” Nana shot back.
You hesitated on the last step, fingers gripping the railing. you stayed put, not wanting to pull away..and not wanting to hear more. This was absurd. None of their business; you aren’t the same girl with beads in her hair and muddy sparkly rain boots . You were a woman with her own mind and wants.
“She’s young. She doesn’t know what she wants yet.” He said, in a half-hushed tone.
“She knows just fine,” Nana snapped. “And even if she didn’t, that isn’t for you to decide. You love that girl, don’t you?”
Papaw huffed. You could picture him standing there, arms crossed, jaw clenched, struggling to put his feelings into words.
“Then act like it.” She sighed deeply, dissatisfied with her husband’s reaction to something of this manner.
But it was too much. The heat, the pressure in your chest, before you knew it, your shoes were hitting the wooden floor harder than intended as you stepped into view.
Their heads snapped toward you.
“I’m goin’ out.” Your voice was short, clipped. That same tone that had been stuck in your throat since it all had been building on your shoulder. You didn’t wait for a response before stepping out the door, letting the creaky screen slam behind you. Usually Nana would call after you to be more gentle with her doors, but not today. Not after what she knew you’d been hearing whispering of since that day you’d come in from the rain with Abby.
Papaw didn’t call after you. Maybe he knew better. Maybe he felt bad. Either way, you didn’t stop. You need a damn minute, just a second.
You weren’t sure where you were going until you were there. The stables smelled like hay and dust, the late afternoon light filtering through the gaps in the wood. It was quiet, save for the occasional snort from one of the horses.
Good. You needed quiet. Finally, quiet.
Your hands still trembled slightly from the argument, so you busied them, grabbing a nearby brush, anything to keep yourself—your brain—occupied. How did this all come so quickly? You’d been nice and said hi to a woman who fixes shit, and now you felt like you’d been put under fire for it.
So caught up in your own thoughts and breathing You didn’t hear Abby approach at first, but the sound of her boots against the wooden floor made you tense.
“You got somethin’ against doors, or do you just like stormin’ off dramatically?”
You exhaled sharply, rolling your eyes, but didn’t look at her. “Not in the mood.”
She didn’t ask again. You were clearly having a day. She Just leaned against one of the stable posts, arms crossed, watching. For a while, neither of you spoke. Giving you a moment of needed silence
You forced yourself to ignore her presence for once. for once in moment, you let the darkness of your eyelids in the world of your brain. Settle for just a beat. The sound of her adjusting her position on the wooden post didn’t even register until.
“Ouch!—Shit.”
Your head turned just in time to see Abby staring at her hand, a small splinter sticking out of her finger. There was again that gentleness beneath the carefully crafted stone wall of her outside.
You didn’t even feel the frustration flow down your back like a stopped faucet. She just stood there, staring at her finger like she wasn’t sure how to help herself. If you weren’t so frustrated previously, you might’ve laughed, but instead, you stood up and took a few careful steps over to where she was standing to get a better look at her now very slightly wounded hand.
Abby sighed and began patting the pockets of her worn jeans for something to pull the splinter out. When she tensed at the sudden hold on her wrist.
“Let me see,” you said blankly, still not in the mood but not wanting her to hurt herself further.
Abby rolled her eyes but extended her hand anyway, palm up. You stepped closer, taking her calloused fingers carefully in your own. The splinter wasn’t deep, but you took your time anyway—digging it out slowly, dragging your fingertips along her skin just enough to be annoying.
“There,” you said, once it was free. “Think you’ll live.”
She huffed a soft laugh when you made a joke about you fixing something for her for a change, feeling a little bit apologetic for your dismissal of her earlier. She was trying to check on you, and you had been a bit mean. Abby shaking her head, but when the laughter faded, she didn’t pull away from you. Letting her arm stay in your hand.
Instead, she just… looked at you.
It was subtle at first. The way her gaze flickered, just briefly, downward. You caught it. Your heart kicked up.
It would’ve been easy to ignore. To brush it off as nothing, keep things light. But instead, you took the risk. Going against better judgment, you repeated the eye movement.
Your gaze dropped—to her lips, then back up.
Abby noticed. You saw it in the way her lips parted slightly, as if she might say something…but she didn’t. You recognize this silence, the way both of your breathing picked up. This was exactly like the day you called her. She didn’t want to hang up; she told you she’d be there in an hour, and she still didn’t move her fingers to the gray buttons to hang up her own house phone after the conversation had already faded into nothing but the same silence that was washing over right now.
The barn suddenly felt smaller, the air thicker. Neither of you moved; neither of you spoke.
And then, Abby shifted. Just enough to snap the moment, clearing her throat as she pulled her hand away.
“Y’know,” she muttered, stuffing her hands into her pockets, “if you were really worried about me, you’d kiss it better.”
It was a joke. Obviously. But her voice wasn’t as confident as usual, a slight rasp in the words that made your stomach twist.
You scoffed, shaking your head as you turned away, but you couldn’t hide the heat creeping up your neck. Instead, you told her to stay put while you grabbed a Band-Aid for her hand just until the small break in her skin of the finger healed.
Final: Kissing it better ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Supper in mid-April was warm, filling, and laced with the kind of easy conversation that only happened when things were settling into place. Nana and Papaw had their moments, but there was no thick tension, no sharp words. Just the clatter of dishes, the low hum of the radio, and the occasional chuckle between bites.
You could feel the shift—subtle, but there. Even in Papaw, who had spent the past few months stiffening at the mere thought of you and Abby being something. Now, his comments were still gruff, but there was something softer underneath, something close to acceptance. Nana, of course, had caught on well before him. She never said it outright, but the glint in her eye when she glanced between you and Abby made it obvious. Especially when she passed you a dish towel with a knowing little smile.
“Figure you two can handle clean-up.”
So here you were, sleeves pushed up, fingers dipped under the warm, soapy water, while Abby stood beside you, drying the plates you passed her. Her hair was styled differently today, hm. You glanced down at her face and spoke.
“You’re awful quiet,” you teased, bumping her hip lightly. “Suds got your tongue?”
Abby huffed, giving you a sideways glance. “You Just focus on not breakin’ a plate.”
You gasped at her comment. Putting on some bariatrics to get her to crack a smile. That smile you loved. The one complimented with the pink of her gums. “I’ll have you know, I’m very delicate.”
Abby hummed, clearly unconvinced. But before she could respond, you flicked a bit of water at her. She blinked as the droplets hit her cheek, then slowly turned to you, an eyebrow raised.
“Oh, you’re really funny, huh?”
“Hilarious, actually.” You bite your bottom lip to not laugh. Trying to hold composure.
A second later, her hand was in the sink, long fingers sending a splash of water in your direction. The sound of splashing water echoed through the kitchen as you and her turned the simple task of dishwashing into a soak city. The first flick of water from your hand was a quiet challenge, a warning. But she was quick, her hand moving faster than you expected, sending a spray of water in your direction.
You laughed, barely managing to avoid the worst of it. “Oh, it’s on now,” you said, wiping the droplets from your cheek.
Abby’s eyes lit up, and before you could react, she’d dunked her hands into the soapy water, splashing you again. This time, it soaked the front of your shirt. Dripping down the fabric.
“Abby!” You shrieked, laughing as you swatted at her the next few minutes were chaos—water flying, dish towels being used as weak shields, your laughter mixing with hers as you both tried and failed to keep the mess to a minimum. When the counter was a disaster and your shirts were damp, Abby’s grey shirt now darkened to a new shade. You finally called a truce, breathless and with light smiles.
“Reckon Nana set us up,” Abby muttered, shaking her head as she wrung out the dish towel.
“I ‘reckon’ you’re right.” You quipped back. 
She chuckled, then nudged your shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s get outta here before we get wrangled into sweeping’ too.” She whispered into the hollow of your ear, lips grazing the skin.
The night air was crisp but not cold, wrapping around you both as you sat in the open trunk of Abby’s pickup. You meant to check in with her when it broke down the first time, but she clearly has it running again, so no need to mention it. You turned your gaze to the sky stretched wide above, dotted with stars, the occasional chirp of crickets filling the silence.
You absentmindedly traced the wooden charm between your fingers on your keychain, the one Abby had given you weeks ago.
“How’s your brother?” you asked, glancing over.
Abby smiled slightly. “He’s good. Annoying as hell, but good.” She seemed pleased that you were asking more about her family and life outside of being Miss Fix-It. You smirked, nodding before twirling the charm between your fingers again. When one of two questions you’d been wondering blurted out.
“…say, How’d you know my favorite color?”
She hesitated. Then, with a small huff, she leaned back on her palms, looking at you with a mix of amusement and embarrassment.
“I mean, You always wear somethin’ of that color. Your curtains are the same too. Wasn’t that hard to figure out?
She said it like it was obvious, like it wasn’t a big deal. But it was. The thought of her noticing…really noticing. made something warm bloom in your chest. Like a tulip in the springtime. You chuckled, shaking your head.
“Guess I’ll have to switch things up, keep you on your toes.”
Abby snorted. “Like hell you will.”
For a while, you both sat there, the quiet stretching comfortably between you. Abby’s gaze dropped briefly, and when you followed it, you saw where her focus had landed—her bandaged finger, the one she’d gotten a splinter in back at the stable. The stable, when you caught her looking at your slightly pouted lips.
“How’s that healing?”
“Pfft, just fine. Basically a paper cut…Thank you for checking, though. There goes that second one. You had to ask; the worst she could say was no or laugh it off, right?
“You still want me to kiss it better?” You pointed to her hand, then looked back to her face. The words rung out into the small distance of your bodies.
The space between you felt charged, thick with something neither of you had been able to name for months. The teasing had always been there, the lingering touches, the glances that lasted just a little too long. But this? This was different. This was an open door, an invitation waiting to be accepted. Abby’s head tilted—just slightly, that same motion you’d caught onto since the start. Her eyes flickered up to meet yours, holding steady, searching.
She exhaled softly, her lips parting like she was about to say something, but no words came. Instead, her fingers twitched against the truck bed, like she was waging some internal battle. And then—
She moved.
Slow, hesitant at first, like she was giving you a chance to pull away. But you didn’t. You wouldn’t.
Her calloused fingers found the back of your neck, warm and careful, her thumb barely brushing the edge of your jaw. There was a second just one where she hesitated, where her breath stuttered slightly like she couldn’t believe she was finally doing this. And then, the months of waiting, of tension thick enough to cut with a knife, finally took over.
Abby pulled you in, her grip firm but still giving you the choice, the chance to stop her. But you weren’t going anywhere.
Her lips met yours, slow and searching, like she was memorizing the way you felt against her. You sighed into the kiss, hands finding the rough fabric of her shirt, fisting it slightly like you needed something to ground you. She responded in kind, her fingers tightening against your skin, pulling you just a little closer.
When you finally broke apart, your foreheads nearly touched, both of you breathing a little heavier than before. Abby let out a short, breathless laugh, almost like she couldn’t believe she’d actually done it. Months of waiting, months of ups and downs, months of wanting to close that gap.
Her gaze flickered to her finger, still wrapped in its makeshift bandage, then back to you,
“Much better,” she murmured.
Time seemed to still as that weight that had been pressing on your chest for months, thick, unspoken, and suffocating…seemed to melt away the second Abby’s lips met yours. It was like exhaling after holding your breath for too long, like finally stretching out sore muscles after a long day’s work. The tension, the wondering, the stolen glances that never felt like enough, all of it moved to replaced by something …warm and steady. Relief. Certainty.
It wasn’t just the kiss, it was the knowing. Knowing that you hadn’t imagined it, that she’d felt it too. That you hadn’t been foolish for wanting, for hoping. It settled in your chest like a quiet reassurance, like something that had always been meant to happen,
Cw: another sneak off with you and your bandmate, situationship, fingering, and more smut.
To say that you and chole were flirts was beyond an understatement. The tension on stage that fans picked up on was just as prevalent off-stage.
And you loved it
Packing up after a particularly tiring show, you felt her familiar arms loop around your torso, head buried into your shoulder, a small "hi" being tiredly uttered. You always found yourself with a goofy smile when she got all handsy after subtly flirting on stage all night. “Hey” you greeted trying to help pack up but your movement was slowed with her clinging onto you. Chloe hummed in response, head resting against your shoulder, and her arms glued around your waist.
"So.. You wanna get outta here?" She asked, voice low and tired in your ear.
“Yes please” you basically dropped what you were doing, feeling giddy to be back in her arms even if it was only for a bit. She practically dragged you on the now empty tour bus, like a woman on a mission. She lazily flopped down onto her bunk, tugging you down on top of her. Chloe let out a soft, breathless laugh watching you plop down with no protest. Once you were settled, burying her face into your neck.
"Tired." She stated, a hand gently tracing up and down your side, the other pulling the two of you closer. Feeling along the lines and dips of your body. "I don't think I can play tomorrow either, I'm so tired… and sore." She added the last part on with a huff, and she lifted her head up, looking around for something.
“You say that after every show, you know that?” You say rubbing her cheek, seeing her slightly wore expression. Chloe closed her eyes and leaned into your hand, her lips spreading into a smirk at your words. Knowing she’d complain until her mouth fell off.
"Well, I am sore after every show, so…." She spoke back, before she opened her eyes and looked you over. Turning her head to get a better view of your body resting on hers. A smile lip bite scanning over you.
"So." Chloe repeated, before she suddenly grabbed you, pulling on your hips in an upwards direction sl you had no choice but to sit on her lap. Despite a weight difference or not, she loved the slight of you perched on her lap. You laughed at her actions and gave her a skeptical “oh?” Even though you knew what her plans were. it’s still fun to play along. Chloe placed her chin on your shoulder, and her arms slid up and wrapped around you, her legs falling on either side of your thighs. Her hands trails never failed to leave fire on your skin.
"Mhm…" She hummed, nuzzling her face against your neck once again. "You're so damn pretty." Chloe mumbled, a hand slipping up and into your hair, slowly letting her wonder slowly. You always returned her compliments…and wondering hands.
Chloe puffed out a laugh, and kissed the side of your neck. “Yeah? You're cuter, though." She countered, her hands moving to rest on your waist, a thumb gently rubbing back and forth. She dropped her gave over your shoulder to get a good look at your ass planted on her lap. Her teeth tugged on her bottom lip, already feeling her body tired but growing warmer. She let out a small moan when you traced over her collarbone with your own pecks. Yup, she needed nothing more than you crying out her name. Right here. Right now.
"know what you look best in?.." She mumbled suddenly, her fingers tracing along the collar of your shirt. Giving it a small small tug.
You pretend to think, tapping your chin. Then asked “What?”
"No shirt." She whispered, pulling on the collar of your shirt, her eyes locked on yours. "Just underwear." She added, tracing her fingers along the fabric layered on your shoulder.
You bit your inner cheek to not laugh at her bluntness. “oh really?, you look good like that too. We should wear that more often” Chloe nodded, and she tugged gently on your shirt again. She wanted it— no, needed it off, no doubt.
"Hell yeah I do. I’ll go change if you want me to~" She replied, pulling back to look you over. "But then-" She added, a smirk growing on her lips. "I want you to change too." “Like…now” You were about to mention the others coming back and interrupting but before you could finish that thought she rolled her eyes.
"They won't."
She replied quickly, and her hands slipped under your shirt again, gently pulling it off and throwing it on the floor. Her Hands immediately exploring the newly exposed skin.
"And even if they do, who cares?" She added, trailing her fingers down your sides. Chloe was always reckless like that, but it always excited you when you participated in her ‘fuck the world’ activities. A small flutter in your lower belly when she officially titled you her ‘Bonnie’ to her clyde of course.
And that’s how you ended up tangled up with her, lips hungrily crashed into each others. When her lips trailed down to your jaw alll the way down to pressing to your collarbone, right next to your neck. She nipped and sucked at the skin for a second, before moving down towards your chest
"Mm Turn around." She mumbled against the skin, her breath hot, and her hands gently guiding your shoulders to turn.
She hummed once more, her hands moving to your waist, gently rubbing up and down. "Hands on the bed, pretty please?" She asked, and placed her chin on your shoulder. You raised an eyebrow and asked her what she was up to with a smile on your face.
Her lips curved in a slight smirk, and she lifted her head to place a kiss behind your ear, before she spoke. "Nothing." She replied with a soft sigh.
"Just… want good a view." She whispered, and gently guided your hands towards the edge of the bed, pressing your palms into the bed sheets.
Her hands went to your legs, and she very slowly, gently, spread them, and she settled herself between them. "Much better." She mumbled, and she left a string of small kisses down the back of your neck, her voice low against your shoulder.
"Now..hm, I… think we've got too much on though, yeah?" She mumbled against the back of your neck, and she began to tug on your pants. One-by-one, Kyra pulled your pants and underwear, discarding them on the floor with your shirt. she leaned forward and started to unbutton her own jeans, pulling her shirt over her face and tossing it on the floor.
She placed another soft kiss on your shoulder, and her hands gently pushed on your shoulders, guiding your body until you were fully bent over onto the bunk. She cursed under her breath at the slight of you displayed out for her. “You are so hot, you know that?”
She kissed her way down to the back of your parted thighs and wasted no time placing both hands on either thigh and burying herself into lapping at the sensitive skin of your cunt. Oh, she was hungry, you were the best meal she’d had since the last time you two snuck off.
you gasped out, steadying yourself on your arms. Her tongue licked up into your folds, focusing on your clit.
She continued lapping at your clit, hands rubbing down your thighs while holding you against her mouth. Locked in place and she wasn’t going to let up until you were breathless and blissed out
The buss filled with slurping lewd sounds mixed with your own pleas for her to not stop. Her tongue zigzaged a few times over your entrance before following through with Her fingers slid between your parted thighs, to rub circles against your clit adding a little more pressure than her tongue could give.
“Shiiiitt chlo-“ you whined. Head dropped, trying to keep yourself steady on the bunk like she asked but she was making it damn hard. Eating you out like she’d never have you again after this. You rutted your ass backwards into her mouth, wanting more, more.
You heard a moan come from behind you as you pressed your ass deeper into her face. The vibration of her hum causing another needy moan to rip from the back of your throat.
After a few more moments, she let out a strangled, low sound, like a whimper, and her body tensed against yours, her arms and hands still clenched to you, holding onto you.
"Nngh..oh, god chloe—" you whimpered out loudly, the sound barely stifled as you felt the new sensation of her fingers teasing your entrance. You pleaded for her to finger-fuck you until you saw nothing but white …and who is Chloe to say no?
She rubbed a few more messy circles on your clit with her free thumb and finger dipped the pad of her middle finger into you. “mmmn” Chloe grined against your sopping skin not that you could see. She pulled back from your cunt for a moment to enjoy the sight of her finger disappearing and reappearing as she curled it towards your spongy walls.
“Think you can take another?” She asked already knowing the answer but it got her so hot to hear you ask, or beg even for it.
You noddded frantically between mewed moans, choking out many ‘pleases’ and ‘yes’s. music to her ears, she slowly pushed her ring finger inside you, to join her middle, Curling them inside to hit that spot she’d found earlier, causing your head to fall back down. “Thereee we go, fuck yes” chloe cooed, as your Eyes squeezed shut as much louder moans escape your mouth.
‘Fuck’ ‘right there- yes’ ‘please..please’ you were honestly just babbling at this point, feeling your climax creep closer with each pump of her fingers.
Closer , Closer , Closer
Until oh god you couldn’t take it anymore, “Yes, yes yes!” You cried out as your legs turned into pure jelly. Clenching down on her fingers as you rode out your high.
She slid back behind you to not let you fall over. Arms around your waist, whispering praises about how much she enjoyed that. rubbing soothing circles on your waist. Letting you catch your breath
because she was farrr from done with you.
—-
I mostly post abt Abby so this is just a little testerrrr
“Hold me, console me and then I'll leave without a trace”
. ݁Unkissed Bruises- A.A . ݁
⤷ Pitfighter Abby! Forbidden Love x High Society
. ݁₊ . ݁⚠︎ cw: Angst, Caitvi inspired, sexual content, death/grief, based off this draft! . ݁₊
9k words- mlist
݁₊ . ݁ Once upon a time, Whitehaven and the Rookery were one. two halves of a thriving whole, a city of beautiful contrasts where differences coexisted rather than divided. The grand halls of Whitehaven stood proudly beside the winding streets of the Rookery, their people mingling, trading, sharing stories beneath the same sky.
But with time came greed, and the growing sense of hierarchy that came with seclusion. and seclusion greed came walls, not the kind built with stone, but with power and privilege. The wealthy of Whitehaven withdrew behind gilded gates, drawing an invisible line between themselves and the Rookery below. The divide deepened, fed by whispered justifications and the belief that separation was natural. That it was better.
Now, they were no longer one.
The Rookery became a place of struggle, of resilience, of those left behind to fend for themselves. It was a city of flickering lanterns and hurried footsteps, of shadowed alleyways humming with secrets. The air smelled of spice and smoke, of meals stretched to feed too many mouths, of rain-soaked stone and burning ambition. Lifestyle shaped by survival.
Whitehaven, in contrast, remained untouched, pristine, a city of towering buildings , and shimmering glass. Its streets were wide, its air perfumed with florals from large gardens. Voices carried in refined tones, syllables drawn out as if even words themselves had the luxury of time. Its people dined on delicacies, oblivious to the hunger just beyond their borders. Oil and water. Two cities, once bound together, now separated by more than just wealth. By history. By resentment. By the quiet understanding that though they still existed side by side, they had long since become worlds apart.
But When the sickness hit, most folk called it the “bug”, a constant infectious shadow that never leaves, leaving you a hollow version of the person you once were. It’s been contained for the most part, but its remnants linger, and those who fell to it never stray too far, no matter how high the walls around Whitehaven rise.
Your father, a respected scientist, kept you safe inside those walls. As a girl, you ran through his office, spilling coffee on important papers and giving him wide eyed apologies when he threw his hands up in frustration. Your mother, a talented caterer, made food that could heal you from the inside out. comfort in every bite. Growing up, you often found yourself perched on the window sill, watching the distant figures on the bridge, wondering about the people outside. The Rookery was rarely spoken of, but you knew why. The guilt and pride of those inside Whitehaven kept it at a distance, as did the stories of struggle that slipped through the faint cracks when the walls opened for supply runs.
You’d ventured outside the walls a few times, as a young woman, but you always returned to the duties and comforts inside. Letting that curiosity slip away in favor of the life you had. After all, those people had their own way of living. They weren’t helpless.
But little did you know, three-four years ago on Celestial Day; the city’s grandest holiday, marking the “enlightenment” of Whitehaven’s founders, would bring a taste of the Rookery right to your feet.
And she was just on the other side of those said walls. Staring right back. A younger Abby sat on the rooftop of the abandoned store, half listening to her friends beside her.
Abby knew ‘wallflowers,’ aka those who lived within WhiteHaven who turned their nose up at people who had lint on their clothes, ripped not by accident but by fashion, and looked down on those who didn’t. It was bullshit, honestly. Everyone would have the same fate if a cure wasn't found in the next 10 years for the bug. No gold or shiny shoes would save you when you were on your deathbed, lips cracked, eyes glossed over.
It was terrifying. The kind of thing that made you want to pray even if you didn’t believe. For some kind of hope.
Abby’s father, Jerry was a respected figure here, someone who people looked to for guidance. A man of science himself, just with the resources he could scrape together. She’d warn him to be careful; the last thing she needed was to lose her rock. The same man she had to beg to call her Abby; now, she was too old for ‘Abigail’. Made her feel like she was still in pigtails.
But there’s always sun after the storm, and for her? That’s Sidekick, Manny. And the definition of loyalty, Nora, is also from The Rookery; those down here were like family.
The kind of friends you could raid a junkyard and turn it into a mini shooting range. jumping off the large bridge into the blue waters below. Or—watching them do that as she’s terrified of heights. But it looked fun. Just…from a distance. That was her life.
. ݁₊ . ݁ in Whitehaven, on celestial day. It was ice sculptures, crystal glasses filled with drinks Abby couldn’t even pronounce, and so much food that even she knew she wouldn’t be able to try it all. Everything smelled like money. Everything from the banners to accents was navy blue, white, and gold, as polished as the people in attendance. Outside the walls, in the Rookery, people had their own ways of celebrating.
Officials claimed the walls of Whitehaven were meant to protect against crime and disease, but Abby knew better. They weren’t meant to keep anything out. They were meant to keep people like her from getting in. The suffrage these people would only hear about in passing.
The Rookery was her home. Over that broken bridge between the city’s. cracked sidewalks, flickering streetlights, and a kind of toughness where dirty looks were as good as compliments. But here? But here? In prissy Whitehaven, it was nothing like it. Everything was quiet, pristine, and expensive. And her borrowed dress shirt felt like a straitjacket. Suffocating even.
Noses pointed in the air. Ironed shirts, pleated skirts, and laughs that screamed financial stability. That was the first thing Abby noticed. That, and how fucking uncomfortable she felt standing in the middle of it all. She shifted against the stiff fabric, resisting the urge to roll her shoulders. “Remind me why I’m here again?” she muttered, just loud enough for Nora to hear. Nora, having family in Whitehaven despite the tension, would drag her friends to explore the city of bright and white across the bridge.
“Because I refuse to suffer alone,” Nora answered smoothly, scanning the crowd with the ease of someone who belonged somewhat. “And because my parents think dragging me to these things will make me ‘appreciate fine company.’ I think.”
Abby groaned, shifting her plate of food to her other hand. It was an unsorted mess of expensive appetizers and tiny, overly decorated portions that tasted too fancy for their own good. Nora glanced down at Abby’s plate and wrinkled her nose. “Are you seriously eating caviar with… a breadstick?”
Abby shrugged, chewing the piece in her mouth. “What? I’m hungry.” She trailed off. Before Nora could get another jab in, Abby’s attention flickered across the room. She didn’t even realize she’d stopped mid-bite until Nora followed her gaze. A girl around their age, working the room. Now she belonged here.
Nora turned back to her curiously. “So that’s what’s got you all quiet.”
Abby snapped out of it, rolling her shoulder. “What?” “The one with the stick up her ass?” Abby turned back to look at you. Standing near the center of the venue, posture straight, wearing something white and elegant. Talking to the right people, nodding at the right times. Everything about you looked polished. put together in a way that made Abby’s hands twitch at her sides, suddenly way too aware of the bandages she’d wrapped around them earlier that day out of habit.
She scoffed, tearing her eyes away. “She’s… okay, I guess.”
“Okay?” Nora snorted. “Try again.”
Abby rolled her eyes. “Fine. She’s hot. Are you happy?”
“Absolutely,” Nora grinned. She swore she was some kind of matchmaker. But the last time her friend set her up, she vowed to never let her meddle in her love life again.
Abby shook her head, as she decided it was best to step away before Nora found more ways to get under her skin. She needed an escape, just for a moment. Under the guise of grabbing another drink, she turned on her heel and strolled toward the kitchen, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. The air was thick with laughter and the faint hum of conversation, the warmth of bodies packed into the space making it easy to disappear. As she moved, she brushed shoulders with strangers, their faces blurring into the background. A murmur of apology here, a fleeting glance there. But she barely registered any of it. She just needed a second. A breath. A chance to shake off whatever it was that had settled in her chest.
And then there you were again. You weren’t out in the crowd anymore. Instead, you were standing by the catering setup, arms crossed, giving one of the kitchen staff a very unimpressed look.
“No, seriously,” you said, exasperated. “What’s the point of me making a list of allergens if you’re not going to follow it?”
The staff member stammered an apology, but you barely heard it, too busy scanning the trays of hors d’oeuvres for any more potential disasters. This day was important. not just for the city, but for you and your mother. Celestial Day was more than just an extravagant celebration. it was a chance to prove your worth, to show the officials that you belonged inside these walls, that your family’s place here wasn’t just a courtesy. At all. One wrong dish, one guest sent into an allergy attack, and it would be a catastrophe. A stain on your mother’s reputation, on yours. Your grip tightened on the notepad in your hand as you exhaled sharply. There was no room for mistakes today. You earned your keep in these walls.
Abby leaned against the doorway, amusement tugging at her lips. Yeah, she was right about the stick-up-your-ass comment. But she wasn’t expecting to find it this entertaining. The way you talked with your hands. Politely ripping them a new one. She let out a small laugh at something you said louder than intended. You turned at the sound, eyes landing on her. And for the first time that night, or ever, Abby actually felt like she was being looked at.
Taking in the slightly wrinkled button-up, the way she wasn’t quite standing like she belonged here, the sharpness of her jaw, the broadness of her shoulders. her hair not neatly tucked out of her face. Your expression shifted just slightly, curiosity and…something else. You cleared your throat and spoke.
“Are you lost?” you asked, tilting your head.
She shrugged, glancing over your outfit. “Should I be?” Abby countered, pushing off the doorway and stepping closer.
You returned her once-over. “You just don’t seem like the type to frequent places with, hm… ice sculptures.” That sounded worse than instead, mentally kicking yourself.
“Mhm. And you don’t seem like the type to chew out waitstaff at over-the-top events.” She glanced behind you at the staff, remaking something she wouldn’t eat.
You exhaled sharply, almost a laugh. “Well, they had one job.”
Abby held back a laugh. “Aw, Tragic.”
That earned her a slow, assessing look that made her fingers twitch again. She could see it now, past the perfectly curated exterior. The way your eyes gleamed when challenged. The way you weren’t as prim and proper as she expected you to be. Watching your face as you continued on the conversation. She couldn’t help but like it. And maybe she really liked the way your breath caught just slightly when she leaned in a little closer. Holding her eye contact like you were trying to communicate something, whether it was intentional or not. It was there.
“Are you always this uptight?” Abby asked, voice lowering into something that made your heart race. You weren’t sure if she was testing you or teasing you. Maybe both.
You opened your mouth to respond, not sure how to. But before you could, a microphone crackled into the background. “Ladies and gentlemen, if we could have your attention for a moment—” your father’s voice pulling you back. Your head snapped toward the sound. your parents. About to give some speech to the crowd. You let out a small sigh of disappointment, before glancing back at the other girl.
“You should get back,” Abby said, smirking. “Wouldn’t want anyone thinking you ran off with the hired help.”
“Good idea, really wouldn’t want that.” Your feet moved before your mind could catch up, carrying you back into the sea of white and gold, but your head felt lighter, buzzing with something unfamiliar. You weren’t sure why it took more effort than usual to turn away. Why you had to smacking yourself not to glance back.
Abby, on the other had, didn’t look away. She stood there, arms crossed, watching as you disappeared into the crowd. Her brow furrowed slightly, lips pressed together as if she were trying to make sense of something. You weren’t what she expected. Not even close. She replayed the conversation in her head, the way you had looked at her, the slight hitch in your breath when she stepped closer. The way her own stomach had twisted in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.
With a slow exhale, she rolled her shoulders, forcing the thoughts away before they took root. Whatever that was, it didn’t matter. At least, that’s what she told herself as she finally turned back toward Nora. But even as she walked away, that faint flutter in her chest refused to settle.
Nora took one look at her and groaned dramatically. “Oh, no. You’re making that face.”
“What face?” She huffed, knowing exactly what she was talking about.
“The ‘I suddenly don’t mind the stick’ face.”
Abby rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. “Maybe,” she said, biting back a smirk. “…Maybe I don’t.”
. ݁₊ . ݁ She never got your name that night, but she wouldn’t forget a face like that. those eyes full of curiosity, watching her, trying so hard to keep composure. There was something in the way you looked at her, like you were trying to figure her out, Abby almost admired the effort. Almost. She hated that she was so focused on you even with that sudden spike of the bug in the background.
She’d learned your name later, after prying it out of Nora, who had way too much fun making her suffer for it. Abby endured every teasing remark, every knowing grin, all for that small detail about you. God, did that make her desperate or just determined?
She liked you. A girl she barely knew. A wallflower, of all people. But she saw something beneath the polish, the grace the way you bit back at her, that sass behind your words. That familiar defiance. She wasn’t wrong about you. That much was clear when she caught sight of you near the bridge with Nora. Abby had no reason to stop. But she did anyway. That was only confirmed when she caught sight of you near the bridge with Nora. Abby had no reason to stop, but she did anyway. She knew you two knew each other, but something about the way you spoke, the way you glanced around like you didn’t want to be seen, made her think, no, know the conversation was about her. What did you want with her.
The next meeting wasn’t an accident. You made sure of that.
Late-night meetups just beyond the Whitehaven gates became routine, standing in the quiet where the city’s golden glow didn’t quite reach. It was easier in the dark—less pressure, fewer eyes. But the push and pull between you never let up. Abby kept her distance, stubborn in her refusal to be someone’s reckless experiment. And you? You stood your ground just as fiercely, unwilling to let her push you away. You were trying. Why couldn’t she see that?
This was new for you too. sneaking out, breaking rules that had never been yours to bend, just for the chance to see her. To talk. To exist in a space that wasn’t preordained by duty or expectation. It wasn’t about proving a point, or defying the invisible lines drawn between your worlds. It was about her. About this thing between you that neither of you could quite name.
And sure enough, it all came to a head one night. too much tension, too many words left unsaid, both of you too frustrated, with each other, with yourselves, to keep pretending there wasn’t something more. Abby huffed, arms crossed tight over her chest like she was holding herself together. “What—what is this? The wall’s not enough for you?” She was fighting herself more than she was fighting you. But that didn’t make it any easier.
You had come to see her, and things had been fine.until it got a little too close, a little too handsy. Until she suddenly pulled away, realizing what she was doing and who she was doing it with. “It’s not about that,” you sighed.
“Then what. Is. It,” she challenged, voice sharp, daring you to say something that would justify all of this. That would clear up what hadn’t been said outright.
But you didn’t say anything.
Instead, you stepped closer. Close enough that Abby could see the flicker of hesitation in your eyes, the way your fingers twitched at your sides like you were fighting yourself. She could feel your breath, shallow and unsteady, and for once, she didn’t know if she wanted you to pull away or get even closer. Abby’s jaw tensed, a muscle feathering beneath her skin as she forced herself to stay still, waiting. Seeing if you’d do it for her. Your gaze flickered down—to her lips, to the way her fingers curled into fists at her sides—before snapping back up. Like you were making a decision you couldn’t take back.
Then, without another word, you kissed her. It wasn’t hesitant, wasn’t careful. It was a decision. A line crossed. Abby barely had time to react before instinct took over. Before her hands found your waist, pulling you in like she’d been waiting for this longer than she’d ever admit. The tension between you-the late nights, the teasing, the push and pull, the distance she kept forcing-it all crumbled in an instant.
It was game over. Her fingers dug into your sides, desperate, like she was anchoring herself to this-to you. Your hand slipped into her hair, tugging slightly, and she groaned against your lips, her resolve snapping. She pressed harder, kissed you deeper, as if trying to make up for every second she'd spent pretending this wasn't exactly what she wanted.
By the time you pulled back, your breath was shallow, your forehead resting against hers. "That clear it up?" you asked, voice still breathless, a grin tugging at your lips.
Abby's hands stayed firm on your waist, thumbs tracing absentminded circles against your skin. She let out a short, breathless laugh, her lips still hovering over yours. "Might have to do it again," she murmured, tilting her head slightly, her lips barely brushing against yours. "Just to be sure."
. ݁₊ . ݁ That hesitation melted away after that. Late-night meetings turned into something more. something neither of you named but both understood. It was unspoken but ever-present, settling into the quiet moments between teasing and stolen touches. You fixing her posture when she slouched, Abby shoving some Rookery dish at you, practically spoon-feeding it while you tried not to gag. It was different, the good kind of different. The kind that made Abby actually do something with her hair in the mornings, especially if she knew she’d be seeing you.
And then one night, caught up in the warmth of her touch, your heart hammering against your ribs, you blurted it out before you could think better of it.
“I—want… mm, to be together. officially.” The words tumbled out, breathless, as Abby kissed her way down to your shoulder.
She froze for a beat before grinning against your skin. “Yeah? Not too scrappy for you, Miss Perfect?” She was always testing, always pushing, her lips traveling lower, her hands steady on your hips. That teasing smirk, the one that made your knees weak, stayed in place even as her eyes flicked up to meet yours.
You rolled your eyes, a breathy laugh slipping out, even as your fingers curled into the sheets. “Hah—mm. No. I like… ‘scrappy.’ Your version of it, I mean.”
Abby grinned. “I’ll take it.” Her fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants, slow and deliberate, her eyes never leaving yours.
. ݁₊ . ݁ As much as Abby wanted to focus on you, your smile, the way you smelled when you hugged her. there was something else looming. The bug wasn’t highly contagious, but when you were a scientist, trying to find some kind of cure, exposure was inevitable. And for Jerry, it had finally caught up to him. Despite her pleas for him to be careful. All her years and love.
Abby felt her heart plummet.
It was a sensation she wasn’t prepared for. the kind that stole the air from her lungs, that made her chest feel like it was caving in. One moment, she was standing. The next, she was falling, even though her feet never left the ground. Memories rushed in like a flood she couldn’t hold back. The sound of his laugh warm, familiar, something she had taken for granted. The way his hand would ruffle her hair, even when she grumbled about it, pretending to be annoyed. The way he’d look at her, eyes full of certainty, and tell her she’d be okay, even when the world around them wasn’t.
She blinked rapidly, but it didn’t stop the sting behind her eyes, the blur creeping into her vision. Her breath came faster, shorter, and suddenly, standing still wasn’t an option. She had to move.
Her feet carried her before she even decided where she was going, but she already knew. You. You were the only face she wanted to see right now. The only solid thing in a world that suddenly felt too vulnerable, too uncertain. You were okay. Alive. Real.
And you wouldn’t leave. You couldn’t. She wouldn’t let you.
The sound of rapid knocking on your window near the dresser jolted you awake. Your heart jumped , but the second the haze of sleep lifted, you knew who it was. Groaning, you swung your legs over the bed, already preparing to scold her for coming unannounced. Someone could’ve seen her. or worse, thought she was breaking in. Sneaking her into town was only a good idea in the daylight, when there were too many people to notice someone who didn’t belong.
Still, when you reached the window and found her standing there, cheeks stained, breath trembling, all the irritation drained from you.
You didn’t ask any questions. You just pulled her inside, wrapping your arms around her. She melted into you, gripping the back of your shirt like she was afraid you’d disappear if she let go. You felt her shudder, her breaths uneven against your shoulder. You wanted to ask, but you already knew. The spike in deaths recently, it had to be that. Another loss. Another name added to the ever-growing list of people Abby had loved and lost. And you? You were still here. You squeezed your eyes shut, holding her tighter. There was something you weren’t telling her. A possibility. A thread of hope so thin it barely held its shape, but it was something.
Your father’s research had been extensive, more than most people knew. The world had given up on finding a solution, but he hadn’t. While officials praised his work publicly, behind closed doors, they questioned his methods, his choices—the ethical lines he had nearly crossed. You weren’t supposed to see most of it. But you had.
Late nights spent skimming through his notes, his private journals, his failed trials, looking for anything. And buried beneath the endless calculations, molecular breakdowns, and abandoned compounds, there was Potential. Not a cure. Not yet. But the closest thing to progress anyone had made in years. A formula that had almost worked before it collapsed under its own instability. Abby didn’t know. And you weren’t sure if you’d ever tell her. What good would it do? Hope was dangerous in a world like this. It could lift you up, make you believe, and then drop you from heights so cruelly high you’d never land on your feet again.
She had already lost so much. You’d seen the way she carried her grief. like a wound that refused to heal, an ache she never spoke about but always felt. You wanted to tell her, to give her something to hold on to, but what if you were wrong? What if it led to nothing?
You couldn’t do that to her. So you stayed quiet. Held her like you weren’t keeping something from her. Like you weren’t already pulling away, one unspoken truth at a time. And when she finally whispered, “I don’t want to lose you, too,” you just pressed your lips to her golden brown hair, forcing a smile she couldn’t see.
“Never,” you murmured. “I’m here. I’m right here,” you whispered, one hand cradling the back of her head, holding her as if you could carry her grief with her.
. ݁₊ . ݁ That was the first time of many she’d sneak in. It started small—meeting in hidden spots, then slipping past Whitehaven’s walls under cover of darkness. She learned more about your world—how effortless everything seemed, how trapped you felt in it. And in return, you got glimpses of hers. Stories of the Rookery, of scraped knees and hunger, of nights spent listening to her father’s voice, now just an echo. The seasons passed, watching the summer fun beat down, the fall leaves orange snd red, the flowers blooming, to the snow falling. You were right there, by her side through one of the in toughest times in her life.
“Shh, you’ll get us caught,” you giggled, pulling her hand as one of the maids nearly spotted you both sneaking out of the kitchen.
Abby only grinned, unfazed. “Please. I’ve been doing this for what—a year? We would’ve been caught by now.”
And later that night; Abby curled beside you, watching as you slept, her heart swelling with quiet adoration. She loved you. She loved this. even if it was little more than a secret. Privacy was good. Not everything needed to be known. People had a way of ruining things once curiosity got the better of them.
And Abby, unfortunately, wasn’t exempt from it.
She pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before slipping out of bed, stretching as she padded toward the bathroom. But instead of returning to you, she let herself wander. The house was too big, warm in a way the Rookery never was. The towering windows, the gilded edges of every frame, the polished floors that barely made a sound beneath her socked feet.
Her fingers brushed over a portrait on the wall you and your family, untouched by the world beyond the walls. The navy of your dress reminded her of the night she met you. So prim and proper, the way you crossed your legs, the soft, pardon? instead of a blunt what?. the smallest details about you, the ones she once teased, were the ones she had grown to love the most. A wallflower she’d met grow its vines over her own.
But as she moved past your father’s office, that warmth inside her chest twisted into something else entirely.
A stack of papers lay scattered across the polished desk, your families last name stamped in the corner. And there, written in stark black and red ink, were the words that stopped her cold:
“Hypothesis for a Potential Cure.”
Her stomach fell. A cure?
Her fingers twitched at her sides before she stepped forward, pushing the heavy oak door open just enough to let the golden glow of the fireplace illuminate the papers. Her breath came in shallow bursts as she reached out, flipping through the documents, her movements hesitant at first, then completely desperate. This had been here. All this time. This research, this possibility. Did you know?
Abby’s pulse filled her ears. She didn’t think, she just grabbed as many pages as she could and turned, her feet carrying her back to your room, to you. She shook you awake with little patience. You weren’t sure what she was rambling about.
“I mean this—this is something, right? I just—” Her words stumbled out in a rush as you blinked up at her, groggy and confused.
Then you saw the papers in her hands. Your stomach twisted into a million knots. “Abby, it’s..that’s not what you think.” Your voice was quiet, but it didn’t soothe anything.
“Wait. You knew?” Abby snapped her head toward you, her voice sharp, almost disbelieving. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Her breath hitched, her grip tightening on the papers as if she needed to steady herself.
“You… you held me that night,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “And you knew.” She held the papers up, blue eyes burning into you. “About this?”
Now, The room felt smaller, suffocating even. You sat up, pulling the sheets around you, trying to keep your voice even. “Listen to me. it’s just a thesis. A theory. My father isn’t even close to a cure.”But Abby wasn’t listening. She couldn’t.
“A theory is better than nothing,” she snapped, her voice cracking. “Do you know what we’d give for even a sliver of hope? My dad—he died for nothing while you’ve been sitting on this?”
You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stay calm. “It’s not that simple, Abby. A cure isn’t just something you throw into the world. It could backfire, mutate, make things worse—”
Abby let out a small laugh. “Worse than what? Watching everyone rot outside your perfect fucking walls?”
The words hit like a slap. Your jaw clenched, fingers digging into the sheets as you forced yourself to breathe. “We have to be careful.” Abby was still standing there, fists clenched, jaw tight, like she was forcing herself not to shake. The papers lay scattered on the floor between you, proof of what had been hidden, proof of everything that now stood between you. But you weren’t ready to let her go.
“Abby, please,” you stepped forward, reaching for her, but she flinched. just barely, but enough that you froze. Her hand raised up near her shoulder like she couldn’t bare you touching her.
“No.” Abby stepped back. “You have to be careful. Because you live up here. Because it’s not your people dying.” The silence that followed was deafening. Abby wanted you to fight her on this. She wanted you to say, fuck the risks, to agree that something anything. was worth trying. To prove you were different. But you didn’t. You stayed silent. And that silence was what destroyed her.
“You.” Your voice cracked, but you kept going. “You are my people, Abby.”
Abby sucked in a sharp breath. You watched her throat bob, her fingers twitch, like she wanted to believe you, like she wanted to hold onto it, onto you. Onto us. But the moment passed. She exhaled, slow and steady, pressing her lips together like she was biting back words she couldn’t afford to say. Then, finally, she shook her head.
“No, I’m not,” she whispered. “Not anymore. Not when you are making me choose between you and them,” she said, voice hoarse, like the fight had already drained her. “Because I can’t do that. I won’t.”
The night had started like any other. And ended in the worst way possible. She couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe you were the one person she let herself trust. had known. Had held her. Had whispered reassurances while keeping something this big from her. Your voice barely registered as she grabbed her shoes, her movements sharp and hurried. She turned toward the door without another word, slipping into the dim hallway, the only light guiding her the pale silver glow of the moon.
You sat there, frozen, the strap of your nightgown slipping off your shoulder, sheets pooling around you, growing colder by the second. And then she was gone.
. ݁₊ . ݁ Weeks had passed since you last saw Abby, and the ache in your chest wouldn’t let you be. You had to see her again. You had to fix this. The rain fell in sheets, cold and relentless, as if the world itself was telling you to turn back. But you couldn’t. Not when there was so much left unsaid.
The city’s glow felt miles away as you approached the edge of Whitehaven’s borders. The place where the city’s light couldn’t quite reach, the place where it all began, and now, where it would end. The gap between you two had stretched farther than you could have imagined, and with every step closer, you could feel that distance growing. She saw you coming, but Abby didn’t turn to face you. No acknowledgment. No greeting. Just the sound of the rain, the rhythm of her breaths as she stared out at the empty space before her.
“Abby,” you said, your voice shaking with desperation. “Please, you have to stop this.” You could feel your hands trembling, the rain mingling with the sweat on your palms. “This hope you’re clinging to…it’s dangerous. People are dying. My father’s work wasn’t some miracle cure. It was just a theory, one that never even had the chance to be tested.” You stepped forward, reaching out, but she didn’t budge. You gripped her arms, trying to make her see reason, trying to stop the madness before it consumed her. “You can’t give people false hope. Not after everything we’ve already lost.”
Her eyes remained forward, a steel edge to her gaze. It was like your words couldn’t reach her, like you weren’t even speaking the same language anymore. She didn’t even flinch, her jaw set tight with defiance. “I’m not giving them false hope,” she said, her voice strained but firm, as if she was holding on to every word just to stay grounded. “I’m giving them something to hold on to.” She motioned toward the far-off horizon, the rain blurring everything. “Hope is all we have left. You can’t take that away from them.”
Your heart thudded painfully in your chest as the weight of her words crashed over you. This wasn’t what you wanted. You just wanted her to understand. your voice cracking, pleading with her, “you don’t get it. I can’t be the one to bring that hope. Not when it’s not real.” You could feel your frustration spilling out, every ounce of anger and sorrow mixing. “You’re fighting a battle you can’t win. It’ll tear you apart.”
She shook her head, the rain soaking her hair, her face hardening in a way you hadn’t seen before. But beneath her anger, there was fear. fear of losing everything. Fear of facing the truth. “You think I don’t know that?” she spat, taking a breath as if the words themselves were choking her. “You think I haven’t been trying to make sense of all this?” She looked up, gesturing to the city behind her, where once there had been dreams. “You’ve got all this. All the answers. And I’ve got nothing. Nothing but a fight.” Her voice faltered, and her gaze dropped to the ground, her shoulders slumping under the weight of it all. “And you want me to just give that up?”
There was silence between you, thick and suffocating, as the rain continued to pour. You could feel the pressure of her words crushing you. “I’m not just doing this for me,” she whispered, barely audible over the rain. But you could hear the steel in her tone. “I’m fighting for the people I’ve lost. Your people. I’m fighting for the ones who died thinking they were forgotten.” Her voice cracked on the last words, raw with emotion.
Your heart was in pieces, but the cold reality of it all stung. You wanted to fight back, to tell her that there was nothing more to fight for, that this war was over, but all you could do was look at her. Really look at her.
“I’m sorry, Abby,” you whispered, the words tasting like butter of defeat. “But you’re not going to win this. Not like this.”
Her face humed with disappointment, the kind that came when something that once seemed so sure had already fallen apart.“Then I guess this is where you— we, say goodbye,” she said quietly, almost as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Her words were a finality, a door slamming shut with no chance of being opened again. You stood frozen as she turned away, her silhouette swallowed by the night, the rain still falling relentlessly between you. The space between you had never been wider. The ache in your chest felt like it would never end.
And just like that, she was gone. Again.
. ݁₊ . ݁ Over the course of those years, time seemed to move in an endless blur. Days bled into weeks, weeks into months, until the seasons cycled in their usual pattern, but nothing felt the same. The vibrant world, once bursting with color and life, now seemed washed out, as if the sun itself had pulled away its warmth. It was as though some part of her, some crucial spark, had been drained, leaving behind a muted echo of what once was.
The holidays came and went, each one marked by the absence of someone she had once held close, the absence of something that had given her life meaning. Friends and family would smile, laugh, and carry on as if the world hadn’t shifted, but Abby couldn’t shake the hollowness that settled deep in her chest. It wasn’t just the space left by her father’s death—it was the space left by you, too. Your absence had carved a hole in her heart, one that no amount of distraction or pit fighting could fill.
The people she’d once called her own were still there, still around, but everything had changed. Manny, Nora, and Leah stayed by her side, watching with worried eyes as she slipped further away, the woman they knew turning into someone they didn’t quite recognize anymore. They tried to pull her back, to remind her of the life she had before, but she had already started losing herself in the fight, in the chaos.
The nights were the hardest. Alone, in the silence, memories of your time together would rise to the surface. Laughing over dinner, the quiet moments shared, the way her heart had raced when she was with you. Those memories were bittersweet now, tainted by the unresolved tension between them, the words left unsaid. Abby couldn’t bring herself to visit your home, to see the space where she’d once felt safe. She couldn’t bear the thought of the ghost of what they had, and yet, the thought of you lingered in the edges of her every waking moment. It wasn’t just the time that had passed; it was everything that had changed. What once felt like a solid, comforting bond had turned into something fragile, a thread she was afraid to pull on in case it unraveled everything she’d become since. The love she once felt for you wasn’t gone, but it had hollowed out, turned into a quiet, aching weight that never fully left.
For you She was missing. The curtain by the large window, the one that once overlooked her home. stayed drawn. Closed, like it could somehow keep her absence from creeping in. And for the most part, it did. Rumors of a potential cure began to swirl through the city, whispers slipping through cracks in the walls. You heard them in passing, read them in coded messages, felt them like a knife to the ribs. You never spoke about that night.
How could you?
And for that figure burnt into your memory, her father died, and there was a chance everything didn’t have to fall apart. The Rookery, once her anchor, now felt like a prison. The streets she had memorized since childhood. The ones he had walked beside her, teaching her, protecting her, felt foreign. Empty. The home they shared, the one filled with his voice and his warmth, was nothing more than walls and silence.
And you. The one person she might have turned to was nothing more than an abandoned, open string. A thread she couldn’t follow, not without unraveling completely. What happened was nothing more than an act of betrayal from the woman she loved—wanted to love.
So, she stopped trying.
With no direction, she let herself drift. And the drifting led her to the underground fights. The first time she went, it was just to blow off steam. But she found herself too immersed to stay away long. Pain made sense there. It had rules. A punch landed, and a bruise formed. A hit taken, a price paid. The fights weren’t about winning, not really. They were about feeling something: anger, exhaustion, clarity. Anything but the ache in her chest that refused to fade.
The view of Whitehaven above fueling each blow.
Manny, Nora—they tried. They watched from the sidelines and made excuses for her when she came home battered and bloody. They pulled her out of back rooms, patched her up, and told her she was better than this. But they didn’t understand.
She needed this.
She needed the weight of a fist against her ribs, the sting of split knuckles, the satisfaction of someone else’s blood on the floor. It was easier to be this. A fighter, a brute, a body in the ring. than the girl who had lost everything. More than she could bare.
. ݁₊ . ݁ And now, years later.
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, in the rookery?
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. All this time 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.
“Just…different is all” you said.
She rolled her eyes, a habit she knew you’d always found irritating. But that was the point, wasn’t it? To keep you at arm’s length
“Different’s good. Keeps things interesting.” Her eyes flicked to the crowd, trying to focus on anything other than you. She should walk away. Get out of here. But she found herself glued to the spot, stuck between wanting you to leave and wanting you to stay. Wanting things she couldn’t have.
"You’re staring."
“Well sorry, it’s just not everyday you see an angry oil slick walking around” You huffed at her.
She snorted, trying her best to keep her demeanor nonchalant. "Angry oil slick? Jesus, I’m gone, and that’s how you talk to me? Nice to see you again, too.” She rolled her shoulders, ignoring the pang in her chest. She could almost forget how much she missed you when you were standing right in front of her.
She hated this . The familiar sting. She hated it, and she loved it. She didn’t want to feel this way, didn’t want to let herself care. But the truth was, she still did. Even after all the fighting, all the distance, she was standing here, willing to be hurt again. Her gaze softened for a second. She wanted to say something, anything, to bridge the gap between you. To make you understand. But the words got stuck, caught between her teeth like glass. The pit was suddenly too small. Too close. She needed to get away, needed to fight, but the weight of your presence was suffocating her. You were everything she was trying to forget, and everything she couldn’t let go of.
She glanced over at the entrance, where the next fight was about to start. The lights flickered above her, the sound of the crowd growing louder, but all Abby could think about was the tension between you, the hurt that never seemed to go away.
“Just leave,” she muttered, barely audible. She didn’t know if she was talking to you or to herself. “You’re not supposed to be here.”But you didn’t leave. You stayed, and she couldn’t stop the rush of emotions that flooded her chest. Maybe it was time to stop running. Maybe it was time to face what she’d been avoiding for so long. Maybe.
“Abby,” you started, but your throat tight. “I didn’t come here to fight. I—“
“You came all the way here… just to check if I’m alright?” she interrupted, her voice cutting through the tension. There was something in her eyes, a flicker of softness she wouldn’t allow herself to fully acknowledge. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t soften something deep inside. The fact that you still cared enough to show up. Damn you for that. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t what she wanted, not anymore.
“Yes. I came here to see you. And now you’re telling me to just…go? Normally people would be appreciative, but sorry for trying!”
“Appreciative?” Abby scoffed, taking a step back, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “When did I ask you to show up here?” Her fists clenched involuntarily, the anger boiling inside her. Frustration. Resentment. It was all-consuming, and she didn’t know who she was more angry at. You for showing up, or herself for still caring. “Jesus, I don’t need someone breathing down my damn neck,” she spat, her chest heaving with each sharp breath. “I’m fine.”
“Breathing down your neck? No one held you here to talk to me.” “And you don’t need to ask. That’s what you do when you care. Still.” You could feel the words sting, but the truth cut deeper. You were tired of standing by, waiting for her to come back to you.
“Well, I don’t need your care, not anymore,” she muttered, the words harsh, even to her own ears. She hated how much she still wanted it. How much she missed you. But she couldn’t admit that, not now. “You lost that privilege a long time ago,” she finished, her voice cracking as the weight of it hit her.
You were quiet for a long time, the silence between you two oppressive. But it didn’t stay silent for long. The air was thick with the unspoken truths, both of you standing there, unwilling to be the first to break.
“And trying?” Abby’s voice shook with the force of her emotions. “You’re trying now? What, all this time later? Too little, too late.” The words wrenched from her chest like a physical blow. She couldn’t even look at you. “Where were you, huh? When I needed you the most? When I couldn’t breathe without it feeling like sandpaper in my lungs?” She clenched her fists, biting down on the tears that threatened to spill. “Where. Were. You?”
The words hung in the air like a shroud, and it was your turn to feel the weight of them. Your stomach twisted with guilt and regret, but you couldn’t let her destroy you with them. You couldn’t. Not when it felt like she was shutting you out for good.
You couldn’t keep the frustration out of your voice. “Abby, you gave me no choice! You barely looked at me that night.” Your heart was pounding. “And you’re the one who turned your back on me. I deserved more than that. I understand you’re hurting, but that doesn’t mean push me to the fucking side.”A bitter laugh escaped your lips. “So, you don’t want to talk to me after all this time? Fine. Be like that, Abbigail.” You shook your head, staring at her with a mixture of anger and hurt. “You know what, you’re right. This, you, and your constant pushing me away isn’t my problem anymore. This was stupid to think that maybe, just maybe, you’d open your mouth and talk to me.”
You looked her up and down, trying to make sense of what you were seeing. The girl you loved, the one you thought you knew… it wasn’t her anymore. “The girl I dated surely would have. But this, whoever this is?” You gestured to her. The next words ringing out into the space like a gunshot, a wake up call.
“This is definitely not her.”
The words hit Abby like a slap. She flinched, but her gaze never wavered. She wanted to respond. To tell you how much it hurt to hear you say that, to make you understand the kind of fight she was in. But the words caught in her throat. For a long moment, the tension between you could have shattered the walls around you. Abby’s breath came in shallow gasps, her chest tight, her mind racing for the right thing to say. But before she could, she heard it.
A loud crack. The unmistakable sound of something, someone, slamming into the cage nearby, the crowd roaring in excitement. Her heart hammered in her chest. The fight was starting. And for the first time in long time, Abby wasn’t sure if she wanted to fight. or run.
Cw: death, grief/guilt, TLOU universe, angst, Abby finds her way with parenthood! 3.k words, Longer read. Not fully proofread
What does it take to pull a woman out of a life fueled by vengeance? The answer: you, and a baby.
M.list
Present Day
The small room was coated in the soft, warm yellow glow of the worn window. That old jacket hung behind the wooden door. The only sounds were of gentle breathing and the faint rustle of sheets against clothed skin.
Little Lev slept peacefully, his tiny hand half clenched around the hem of Abby’s shirt. You lay propped on your elbow beside them, watching the scene unfold. It was precious, really. You, her, lev and the safety of this room. After everything, this felt like a dream. A small smile tugged at your lips as you took in Abby’s half-asleep face. Her head rested heavily on the pillow, her braid draped next to her. You couldn’t resist the urge to tease her.
“You know,” you whispered, careful not to wake lev, “he’s starting to look like you.”
Abby huffed out a sleepy laugh, her eyes still closed. “Oh yeah?” she whispered back. “You seeing a resemblance?”
“Twins. No doubt,” you replied, biting back a laugh. Knowing The three of you looked like you’d been plucked straight from a diversity ad. in the most endearing way possible, of course.
Abby chuckled under her breath, and draped an arm over her eyes. Eventually after some more sleepy snickers she shushed you. You both needed rest before tomorrow. Another day of this new normal you both found yourself tangled in.
Around One year ago
The WLF base was alive with its usual routine soldiers training, patrols heading out, and the familiar buzz of machinery echoing through the safety of the walls. You were in the middle of unloading supplies when some commotion started. You paid it no mind at first, you had your own task to do. Drama was the last thing you needed to be involved with.
When you heard it.
“Abby’s back!” a soldier shouted, running past you. The heavy steps growing faint as they disappeared from your line of sight.
Abby, You hadn’t seen her in god knows how long, not since she left to chase whispers of the Fireflies. The last time you saw her, you’d gotten into a huge fight. You two had this unspoken tension and then she suddenly announces that she’s leaving and has no idea when she’ll be back. It took Issac separating you two to end the discussion with no room for rebuttal. She was going, end of story. All you could do was hope for a safe return or just one at all.
You dropped the crate of supplies in your hands, heart pounding filling your ears as you turned to face the large gates. The thought of seeing her again, made you feel a mix of relieved and terrified.
she had been determined, revengeful, dead-set on her mission that she refused to explain too much of. And now?
There she was. Abby was here.
dirty and bloodied, trudging into the base with exhaustion in every footstep. Some familiar faces scrabbled over to help, looking like she was going to collapse face first onto grass below her tired feet. Those broad shoulders slumped, Your breath caught in the back of your throat as she stopped a few feet away. her eyes meeting yours for the first time in what seemed like forever.
You opened your mouth to say something, anything. You were glad she’s back, you were sorry for the fight, you were pissed that she left you with no hug or proper bye—you wanted to say a million things at once, to save time.
But all that was pushed to the side when you seen a tiny hand reach up out of the old jacket she was tightly clutching…swaddled?
Your voice was low, full of surprise as you stepped closer to her.
“Is that a…?”
Abby shifted on her sore feet, glancing down at the baby before looking back at you. “A baby” she said, almost breathless. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
And then it struck you—there was no one else with her. No backup, no team. Just Abby and the baby.
“Abby- Wh- …what the hell happened out there?” you asked, stepping closer, voice low so the growing crowd of onlookers couldn’t hear. Whispers already starting.
Abby glanced at the baby again, her jaw tightening. “It’s… it’s a long story.”
The ‘long story’
To say this journey’s outcome was the complete opposite of what Abby expected, is beyond an understatement.
Here she was, the same woman who can bench a little over two hundred pounds was captured. At the mercy of the cult the ‘wolves’ The WLF had been at war with. ‘Scars’ Seraphite’s. Hung suspended, her arms and wrists wrenched painfully behind her, the thick ropes cutting into the skin of her neck as she wiggled. Burning with each movement. Her breaths came in sharper gasps, blood trickling from the corner of the small cut on her lower abdomen. Her vision beginning to blur.
“Cut her down” Yara panted out, her back pressed against a large rock, wincing with every breath. Her other arm remained clenched tightly around an old, worn jacket, refusing to let it go even during chaos. The tussle was over now, Three of her ‘own’ now lay dead. Deserved, as it was them or who she was protecting.
“She’s one of them-“ The other scar, cross bow in hand protested.
“Just do it!” she commanded. “Demons are coming, hurry”
With a loud thud to the ground Abby ripped the noose off of her neck. Then quickly staggered to her feet, body on fire from being bound for so long. Small cut stinging on her lower stomach. However, before she could fully orient herself, the wounded young woman thrusted something into her arms. As she couldn’t with her now broken one. Holding it there firmly against her chest.
A baby.
Abby froze, staring down at the tiny, squirming bundle in disbelief. “What the hell—”
“It’s my brother,” Yara interrupted, her voice breaking as she turned to yank the axe of a dead body “We have to go. Now!”
The groups feet were moving faster than their minds, survival being the only thing on it.
But Unfortunately, for the wounded young woman, She’d have to make one last sacrificial effort to keep her brother alive.
Gunned down by wolves as a distraction for the safety of her brother, yara laid there. A sight Abby would never forget. But the one thing she would? The promise she made to now lifeless body. Her last words being…
“You Take him… take him to your people. Promise me, he lives.” Yara’s plea was barely above a whisper, eyes locked onto Abby’s.
And promise, she did.
The air was thick, mixed with the pit of devastation in Abby’s gut. The only thing keeping her moving was her feet. After Yara’s sacrifice, Abby alone with a crying baby that she couldn’t seem to soothe. had to now make her way back to Seattle. What the hell was happening. What the hell was she going to do with a baby. The baby of the cult who’d almost disemboweled her. The child of a scar.
With almost being bitten, annoying cries she couldn’t coo away, and the stench of a dirty make shift diaper Abby was beyond exhausted. This journey was seeming to be more than she could handle, But she had promised the woman who’d saved her life. It had been weeks but That lingering feeling of that rope around her neck sent an unpleasant shiver down her spine. Without yara and the other scar who’d gotten spilt up during the mess of escaping infected, she’d be hung.
Take him, protect him. She promised.
Revenge now taking a momentary backseat..but with that, bring the spawn of the enemy wasn’t going to blow over lightly. despite her reasoning and constant explanations tensions inside the walls rose. A faction within the WLF distrusts Abby for returning with a Seraphite child, now seeing her as a liability.
It was getting out of hand. Lips of other soldiers got looser than needed. However, you seemed to be a solace as she’d seek you out to rant about the growing conflict.
“I mean he’s a child for Christ sake!” “Leave him out to what, Die? Are they insane?!”
You could recite her words like a song at this point. Some days she wouldn’t even knock on your door, just opening it and leaning on it with her arms crossed tightly Across her chest. You would give her the green light to get it all out, and trust it poured out every time. The words were full of colorful language and most importantly hurt.
Those light arm pats and words of reassurance gave her more strength to stand her ground than she’d admit to you, not now anyway. Those looks that were held too long, her shoulder brushing against yours while sitting quite close, or the blush that crossed your face when she adjusted your hold on a weapon you were unfamiliar with. Occasional pillow talk of this farm you’d found, joking of how’d cute you’d look in overalls cleaning up the place. Came pouring back in with light flashes as two came back around each other more. Much more.
It started with you having a little more knowledge in this department, you found yourself doing the little things to help her out.
“Here, uh..try this” you said adjusting the child’s head in the crook of her arm to support his head.
The Light touches and small smiles became another silent reoccurrence. Along with taking lev for a few hours so she could rest. Falling into this oddly comforting position didn’t sway you away. She was asking you for help, she never did that before leaving. Everything was ‘I got it’ or ‘I’ll handle it myself’ but now things were miles different. Amongst this, typical Manny making a passing comment on how well you two coparented, made you both awkwardly laugh. Feeling the cracks from before begin to fill with this new experience.
Yes, You two still hadn’t spoken about where you stood before she left. You decided to choke it back, there was something much bigger now. Another life, innocent and blissfully aware of the cruel words being spat him and his saviors way.
Abby had a decision to make. And fast.
But how is she supposed to turn over this child who clearly was not better off. Yet, her loyalty being doubted was stinging just as equally.
Days blended together as the sky stormed along with Abby’s conflicting feelings.
A situation she’d never thought she’d find herself in, standing with her arm out over the child protectively. The heavy drumming of rain against the metal roof of the outpost and almost drowning out the muffled arguments behind the door. her jaw clenched so tightly it hurt.
They wanted him gone.
“He’s a liability,” Isaac’s voice echoed in her ears. “We took you back, Abby. But that… that Seraphite child has no place here.” “If you wish to follow in Owen’s footsteps of betrayal you may do so, outside of these walls.”
They wanted her gone.
Her knuckles brushed her pants, fist clenched. Nails digging into her palm to control her temper.
Isaac’s words felt like they were carved deeper into her skin than any wound she’d gotten these past few months of travel. “You owe us, Abby. His presence is risking the people here, the people who took you in. You choose. Him or us.”
The ultimatum that felt like it had no right answer.
One night, Abby entered your room quietly. The soft click of the door woke you.
There she stood, teary eyed, cheeks stained and a look of defeat smacked on her face. Lev on her hip, had his small head rested on her chest, half awake. Belongings that were once in hand, now dropped next to her with a harsh thud.
before you could ask her what’s going on it came out with a choked sob, ramblings of the past few months and how it was all weighing on her.
You learned of her promise to yara, and you saw the hardened woman who was once full of stubbornness and hatred now a beaten down emotionally drained individual. Pleading for the universe to ease up on her. Tore between the walls that she once called home and failing the child she promised to keep safe, from a woman who now only a memory.
You’d stood frozen in place before embracing the broken woman who looked like her knees would buckle under her with the slightest gust of the wind.
When you pulled back looking at her and the small figure clinging onto her, that conversation washed over you, a lightbulb flickered on.
It was as nuts as it sounded but you asked her anyway.
Before she left the base
“…Like old McDonald?” Abby laughed, listening to you describe a farm you’d come across while traveling Wyoming before joining the base.
You asked her to imagine it. The grass, fresh air, and warm sun beaming down on her skin during the summer.
“Hey, I’m being serious! Give me a broom and hammer I’d make it sparkle. Swear” you joked, and continued to explain how’d you live on the land. Taking the skilled you’d learned to the new environment.
Abby felt a pang of warm air pass over her seeing you in hopes of finding a more peaceful and quiet life. She agreed, but debated with finding the comfort of routine at the base. Losing herself in the conversation. Loving how you seemed to have an answer for almost every rebuttal she threw out.
And now a year later, you asking her if she’d be willing to take this shot in the dark. Making it a reality.
With you. Now.
After a few more days of preparation, she placed one foot outside the gates of base. Looking over her shoulder to the familiar faces she’d once found comfort in only to met with cold gazes because of the small hand she promised to hold. To keep alive.
A few nights before
A heavy sigh echoed as Abby carefully folded small clothes into a not too heavy duffel bag. Uncertainty hung in the air. Was this really what she wanted?
Manny leaned against the doorframe, watching his friend prepare to make a decision that wouldn’t just shift her life but his too.
“You’re really doing this, huh, amiga?”
“I am” she said dryly.
After a few more beats of tense silence weighted between them, He stepped into the room, handing over a small stuffed animal from behind his back. A worn elephant plushie came into her vision, a farewell gift. What a sweetheart he was. Her shoulders eased and she let herself actually talk to him.
Manny softened, leaning down to zip up one of the bags. “Abs, I get it. Just… you better come back if this whole farm thing doesn’t work out. You’ll be missed here. Despite the bullshit, you will”
Abby paused, taking the plushie from his hand, gently packing it away. “Thanks, Manny. For everything.”
“No need to get mushy, not your style” he said with smile. “And , if you ever need a babysitter…you know where to find me.”
“Mhm… I’ll send a postcard, yeah?” She replied jokingly feeling a small weight be lifted.
“Yeah” he repeated and gave her a small ‘you got this’ back pat.
As her other foot stepped outside the gates, she pushed any uncertainty down. She was keeping her promise, for yara…
For herself,
For lev.
The first night settled in Wyoming
Lev, feeling restless had cry’s bouncing off the wooden walls of the semi empty room. Abby sprung awake, heavy breathing as it startled her. With a heavy groan, she made her way over to try and hush the child. After no avail, you felt a small shake on your leg. On the make shift bed that was surprisingly comfortable for the time being.
“Your turn” Abby said with a pout.
You shift in the blankets, taking a moment to take in the image of this hardened soldier, hair a mess, half asleep, holding a baby out to you.
The sight never failed to make your heart swell. A beautiful sliverlining in this world which showed no mercy. A hand slowly made it way to cover your mouth.
Abby tilted her head in confusion, then a small smile crept on the corner of her lips.
“Oh this is funny to you?”
You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, she followed suit after a halfhearted eyeroll. Yeah, Moments like this were definitely the sweet after the sour. Moments like this, reminded her of the tough decision she’d made. Feet sore, eyes heavy, but a smile on her face.
And you’d be damned if you thought she wouldn’t choose it all over again.
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Note: the idea of baby lev was too cute not to write! It doesn't follow the original story but idk I like this version! And yes I brought out the farm! Abby deserves the peaceful life too! Me writing a happy ending for once Any typos will be fixed LMAO
