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littlemisslexapro55555 · 8 days

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BABE WAKE UP THEY MADE THE CHALLENGERS GAY

lap dog.

in support of palestine ∙ the reality of tlou ∙ resources

pairing: ellie williams x afab!reader x abby anderson

music: master of none - beach house

word count: 2k

summary: abby and ellie are best friends, never more. when you come into the picture, competition bleeds into something else entirely.

warnings: porn, ellabs, sub-ish!abby, sub-top!ellie, dom-ish!reader, marijuana use, got high and watched challengers this is what happened

fern says ⎯ this one goes out to @heavenbloom & @atyourmerci the only two pookies keeping me going at this point! rawr!

it was innocent, at first. you suppose.

a pit sinking in your stomach at the all-too-looming feeling of a foreign school, the kind smile offered was an olive branch. white teeth, skin blemished only with the soft indents of a splattering of freckles and moles, it put you at ease. this definitively friendly tour guide.

“hey, m’abby.” the squeeze of her hand was gentle, but firm. practiced. her eyes on you felt like a studied gaze, a flicker over your body that made your ears burn, your name on her tongue a syrupy temptation. “i’m s’posed to show you around, so…”

you clung to abby, in your first few weeks. you would’ve felt bad, this dependence on your only friend growing, if she hadn’t returned the sentiment almost tenfold.

hey

want coffee before class?

- abby

the blaring screen of your phone dunking on you like ice water, bleary eyes and a dopey smile typing a response in the early morning manufactured darkness of your dorm room.

she’d show, fifteen minutes later, in all the gloried aftermath of her morning run, shoving the iced latte at you with easy conversation. she’d wait on your bed while you dressed, poorly pretending to be wildly interested in her instagram explore page.

ellie happened later.

“she hot?”

“i don’t wanna answer that.”

the ball hits the roof, before bouncing with a mean thwack into the tangle of abby’s hair. ellie pulls herself up on the bed, teetering on her tired forearms with a servile smile. “come on,” the rasp in her voice gives her a malignant edge, “objectively, is she hot?”

abby looks at her, swallowed in her gaze even from across the room. she rolls her eyes before returning to roughly running a brush through her hair, “she’s nice.”

“fucking prude!” the palm of ellie’s hand comes down like a rough punishment, a sting on the sculpt of abby’s shoulder that rings a small wince. her laugh is complimentary, “what? she a secret or something?”

abby shakes her roommate’s sliding hands off her, fighting her languid, teasing embrace, “no, no, she’s just- i dunno.”

a light hum fills the quick silence in the air, ellie pulls away.

“i wanna meet her.”

“what? ellie —“ abby whips around quick, something akin to a firm, stubborn fear tracing her face, “no. no.”

you shift on the floor, the scratchy carpet under your ass stinging with a strange itch. the joint is hanging weakly between ellie’s lips as she holds the lighter to it, off-handed smoke swirling and ebbing in the close air of the room. abby is sequestered on her bed, trying her hardest not collapse in on herself.

you’re taking the joint from ellie, ellie. her iced gaze flickers between the both of you, something unrecognisable sitting, gnawing at her very soul.

“so,” smoke spills from your mouth, dripping from your lips like it never wanted to leave you. you hold the blunt, firm between two fingers as you trace your thoughts with your hand, “what is this?”

ellie laughs faintly, her eyes meeting the terror of abby’s briefly, before falling over the way you’re sat, cross legged, the thin fabric of pyjama shorts riding up your thigh. her laugh is dopey, saccharine laced with a bite, “what d’ya mean?”

you’re pinned, like a dead butterfly behind glass, inspected. abby leans forward, a pique of interest crawling up her spine, her elbows digging nasty red welts into her knees. they both, as if practiced, stare, like careful animals on the other side of a zoo exhibit fence. they know they cannot touch you, but they deign still to think they can try.

you laugh, something elevated, untouchable, bringing the joint back to your mouth, “you two — you seem, close.”

a shared look of panic and something deeper sets between them, ellie stretching her legs to knock yours as she plucks the joint from you, shooting abby a teasing glance. she pats the battered carpet next to her, “come on abs.”

the nickname is a taunt, an echo of some wild, buried intimacy that ellie wanted — needed you to know. she’s answering your question, in a way.

abby slides off the bed, scooting over at her roommate’s beck and call. she takes the blunt tenderly, leaning back and letting ellie hold the lighter to her, the movement eased, familiar. she shakes her head, “we’re friends.”

you smile, lopsided, a low-flying buzz hanging in the air. your body loose, uncaring, as you canvas the look ellie has on her face. pensive.

“right.”

“what?”

“nothing, i just - i don’t believe you.”

“it’s true!” the laugh shared between them is something too close for comfort to be true, but abby persists, “we grew up together, we play tennis together, we’re friends.”

“well…” the soft abrade of ellie’s voice was a testament, a challenge. for you, it was a tantalising peak behind a curtain so well guarded, a piece of themselves so rarely shared. for abby, it was an unnecessary torment. she looks at ellie, she sees the competition in her eyes. abby knows the sting of shared desire, of the punishing hand of her best friend. the brunette pouts, studying her roommate’s look of resigned pleading, “come on! i think it’s a — it’s a cute story. abby had a little, teensy crush on me when we were kids.”

“oh fuck off!” the edge in the swell of abby’s voice demanded attention, commanded respect in the abhorrent violence of something unexpected. the closeness of the two sat thick, heady in the face of the thin layer of smoke in the air. ellie’s hand slips from her thigh.

a silence befalls the three of you, foreign and raw in the space of casualty. the air of times past is not lost on you, as you watch the humiliation creep through abby’s skin in red flushes. ellie’s advantage.

“i think it’s cute,” you muse with a misaligned shrug.

— a beat.

“really?” that changes everything, in a pathetic sort of way. abby has the eyes of a puppy, a tortured lap dog as she looks at you, wide and wild, tamed on your word. a certain honey of victory sits in her stomach.

“yeah, i mean -“ you laugh, such an ardent reminder of their own pursuits of you, fresh and recognisable. of who stands on their feet, and who kneels before them. “i just don’t intend to be a homewrecker.”

“we’re not together.” they choir together in rehearsed concordance, in defence of themselves. strange, how their voices melt together in a harmony so well matched.

you hum, as if to challenge them quietly, before standing. the stretch of your legs provides a curious path, their gazes dripping upwards of you like forlorn magnets, drawn to your body. you look down on them with a quirk of your brow, pulling your pj shorts to rest higher on your hips, before perching yourself on the edge of ellie’s bed.

they look at you as if they had just lost you, something childishly snoopy glinting, matched, in their eyes. your hands run along the scratch of ellie’s bedsheets, exploring, before you pat either side of you, gently.

in a scramble, they pull themselves to your side, infringing on your summoning. ellie pressed to your left, abby to your right, inescapable, the both of them.

you meet abby’s gaze, swallowed nearly in the startling kindness of the blue of her iris. she looks so meagre, so shrunken and teetering on the edge of your existence, a planet in orbit of a raging star.

gently, with the softness you label so deserving of her, your hands wander, pulling her in, letting the chasteness of her lips fall away into a fevered triumph, the taste of the salt of her lips and the bitterness of the weed a chaser to her touch.

ellie, sat so humbly, waits in a quiet, angry defeat, her fingers ghosting the edge of your bare thigh. oh, to be the only child, so unused to sharing. impatient and derivative, she almost whines, a soft call for your attention. you answer, to the surprise of both, abby’s taste still on your lips, something so familiar.

she’s more callous than the girl she so aptly loves and despises, her movements quick and domineering as she seeks to own you. abby, tasting you and wanton for nothing, slips down to the stretch of your neck, pressing her kindness into your skin with the pliant pull of her teeth.

ellie’s hands are needy creatures, pulling over you like the ebb and flow of a vicious tide, snaking up your shirt for just a taste.

“..fuck.” your heavy breath fills the room like smoke, a complying pass for her to tease the stretch of her fingers under the waistband of your shorts. control was just a fleeting delusion, your hand grabbing at the bone of her wrist, “come on, let her go first.”

ellie, once again left waiting; abby, so all consumed with the pulse of your neck, is despondent, desperate, her breath shaky in your ear as her hand slips beneath the fabric, a soft groan dripping from her lips at the velvet of your walls enveloping her.

she’s slow, languid and unpracticed with her indigent circles around your clit. a sweet intoxication hanging heavy in the air, you laugh, coy and soft and somewhat mean. you had thought abby bigger, more unobtainable than she really was.

here, she is human. here, she bares her unspoken inexperience.

you pull a desperate, evil ellie from the swirl of your tit, so keen to pull your attention away. your thumb mindlessly swipes along the hang of her bottom lip, her breath warm and savouring in your sunlight.

“y’know what to do?” ellie nods into the palm of your hand, eager to show off, to please. “teach her.”

leaning up on the back of your elbows, you watch through a half-lidded honeyed gaze as ellie slinks down, conflicted. a certain affection in her touch, deeper than that of anything else, she finds abby’s fingers in the heat of your legs, leading them along the strings of your impulse.

a shaky moan leaves abby’s lips, the callous of ellie’s fingers along her own a dream unfounded. she can feel the press of her chest against her back, her breath in her ear, her chin on her shoulder. this was not unlike of them, not a foreign feeling, but new, still. the need in ellie’s throat is rotted, estranged to her touch.

they assess you on the bed, like an experiment. the arch of your back is artwork along the ripple of the sheets.

“go slow, you see that?” ellie’s voice is low in abby’s ear, tracing the breathy moans you drip beneath them. “just like that — good, abs. good girl.”

ellie’s hand slips from abby’s, running your slick along her arm, your thigh, a trail up your stomach as she comes to palm your tits, her mouth finding your neck, biting down on your wicked pulse in such difference to the other.

abby is lost, chasing feelings that no longer belong to her. she watches you writhe under her touch, under ellie’s touch. something wanting sits in her throat, unknown to her.

ellie is her best friend. but this — mean competition abandoned, this is something else. something buried, aged, ready to rear its head.

the blonde brings her lips to the dip of your stomach, pressing a soft trail up the curve of your hips. unsure of what she wants, what she’s looking for on the crest of your body, she presses the crook of her nose into your naval, her fingers burning, picking up their speed.

ellie comes to her, drawn to her like to her a flame. pressing a kiss to the curve of your breast, she finds the cotton of her friend’s lips so easily, as if fated. messily, they meet along the plume of your ribcage, you, an instrument for their own aches. esoteric, their tongues swirl on your skin, on their lips, tracing each other as if they had never known the other at all.

like dogs tugging at meat with the bare of their teeth.

homewrecker, indeed.

⎯ kofi

taglist; @whore4abby @endureher @beemillss @afraidofheightss @sentimentalyellow

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littlemisslexapro55555 · 14 days

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this is sooo cowgirl! ellie

cowgirlcaittt on tiktok!!

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littlemisslexapro55555 · 15 days

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i feel reborn

inexperienced, confused sub!abby drabble

ways to help palestine🇵🇸

a/n: this is like super DUPER short, i literally wrote this in class so please bear with me on this, but i hope you guys enjoy it regardless. And thanks to @zdsfv for motivating me to write this !! If i should write a part 2 to this, lmk and i’ll sprint to my google docs

cw: fingering, sex, other inappropriate stuff, abby being inexperienced, abby being confused, reader being a tease, sex with (a kind of) plot, eating out, and swearing.

she had been surrounded by numerous people—girls, who liked other girls. so it really wasn’t a foreign concept. but to engage in those type of relationships herself was a whole new world of discoveries, and ones that she would never really be ready for.

so when she was stationed on the edge of your bed—your head in between her legs with your hands wrapped around her muscular thighs that had now went limp and weak for the first time, it was safe to say that it was confusing the living shit out of her.

the poor girl was just so, extremely confused :((. she had never felt the sensation before, not from any of the guys shes liked in her life. she had never felt the way her heart beat sped up, the way her gasps for air had been restrained to just small little whimpers, the way she shuddered at your touch, the way she couldn’t help but feel like she wanted so much more—and not to mention, from a woman.

she was just so fucking adorable. she didn’t even know what to do with herself either—it was obvious in the sounds that she made, how helpless she really was.

“p-please..! C-cant—d-dunno what to—uh—w-wha..w-where is your hand going…? oh—god..?!toomuchtoomuchtoomuch—!”

she grabbed onto your head—in between her legs, nestling her hands in your hair as the strands intertwined between her fingers, grabbing onto your for even just a little bit of stability.

she may have been known as one of isaacs best recruits in the wlf—one of the strongest at that. but here? She was yours. You had her wrapped around your finger and you fucking knew it. It was evident in the way your fingers pounded into her mercilessly while your tongue circled around her clit—the way that she reacted to it, you don’t know how she didn’t realize she liked girls sooner.

as much as the situation had already stimulated her out of her own mind, your teasing and quite frankly—humiliating coos added to her confusion.

“S-shit…so fuckin’ wet. Owen could never fuck you like this could he? Huh? isn’t that right?” you groan, holding her hands and giving her a light kiss on her clit.

she moaned endlessly—-the pleasure didn’t stop surging into her body over, and over, and over. her mind went blank, letting out only mutters and mumbles as her body that was once strong—now weak, completely gave out to your merciless doings.

“uh—ngh—! p-please…a-ahh—! O-oh god..”

this was only the start of it.

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littlemisslexapro55555 · 16 days

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i love

**please read: click me!

don’t mind me just- fantasizing about edging tied-up (usually dom) sub!abby anderson for the first time mwahahaha

tags: edging sub!abby, dom!reader, squirting, dildo usage, thigh grinding, vibrator usage, bondage, tiedup!abby

“mmph-fuck! ohgodohgod please baby, i-ah-fu-fuck, needa cum so bad, please.”

oh what a heavenly picture abby painted. twisted, pretty features in a mix of pleasure and pain, her wet pink lips parted as she let out soft uh-uh-uh’s while attempting to fuck her hips up harder against the vibrator. so close, but not enough pressure to tip her over the edge— especially not with the limited range of motion she had, limbs bound.

strands of her blonde hair half-fallen out of it’s usually tidy braid stuck with sweat against her forehead, only adding to how beautifully fucked out she looked beneath you. with every jerk of her body her strong arms pulled at the belt keeping them taut above her head, flexing and straining, getting her nowhere. her beefy legs seemed to be facing a similar issue, bound by ties to opposite ends of the bedposts, spread open to place her red, dripping pussy on display for your eyes to feast on.

it was a rare occasion for you to see her like this; fallen apart, whimpering, begging for you to help her out. but she had made one too many jokes about you being oh-so submissive, and you needed to remind her of your true capabilities, letting her know how much of a slut she was for you.

that’s how abby ended up here, tied up, teased for hours, on the brink of a mind-shattering orgasm but without consistent enough pleasure to tip her over the edge. you’re shifting the vibrator from being pressed lush against her sensitive clit and just barely on her perky pink nipples, relishing in the way her body jolts up between actions.

“shit, never r- realized how fu-cking big this fuckin’ cock is till now, fuuck- feels s’full.”

abby’s a babbling puddle under your touch, stuffed to the brim with her own 7-inch strap pressed right against the g-spot she never even knew she had… and fuck if she ever doubts it’s existence again—this is definitely the spot, she thinks, the cock shifting inside of her after she jerks her hips up involuntarily.

she’s lost all ability to keep quiet, groaning and cursing in long strings, gritting her teeth together in attempt to suppress some of her desperate sounds.

“wanna touch you, fuck, i’ll make you fe-“

“shhh, shh, hush abby,” you interrupt.

turning it up another level, you push the buzzing toy harder against abby’s puffy clit, rolling it in circular motions to ensure stimulation to all parts of her greedy, sopping pussy— and effectively distracting her inherently ‘stone top’ mind.

“mmm-ah! ngghhh oh fuck, too much, hurts s-sososo good, i can’t-ican’t, ican’t.”

abby’s back is arching off the bed for perhaps the fifth time this night, hard nipples pointing to the ceiling, marked up from your earlier ministrations. her thighs are trembling, begging to close around her weeping pussy. there’s a visible damp spot on the sheets by her groin, darkening by the minute due to the arousal spilling out of the silicone cock’s base.

you smirk at the sight, knowing the situation between your own legs is just as messy, if not worse. palming at your pussy to relieve a bit of the throbbing, you lean further over abby to pay some attention to her pulsing entrance, sucking in the toy as tight as possible.

“aw abs, you need something?” you tease, shutting the vibrator off with a click and tossing it aside.

“n-no, i mean yes, i- n- i don’t know, fuck needa cum, please!” she cries out, breaths haggard and voice hoarse from all her moaning.

her arms pull at the leather strung tightly around them, and though she may usually be strong enough to yank free of its hold, the hours of edging seem to have taken a toll on her strength. abby’s brain has been turned to mush at this point, thoughts only focused on the addictive pleasure she wants, or no, needs, so so desperately.

“mmm, my sweet girl,” you drawl, tracing a finger around the bend of her ear, tucking some of those sweaty golden strands away. “been so patient for me, yeah?”

abby blushes at your words, stuttering under the vice of your tone, “yes, ‘m so patient for you,” she softly repeats. “wanna cum so bad, please.”

a warm smile painted on your face, you teasingly tsk at her endearing bashfulness, before situating yourself straddled over one of her thick thighs. your eyes rake over her squirming figure, admiring the way abby’s stomach muscles tighten with the movement, as you whisper, “only since you’ve asked so nicely.”

and with that, you grab the base of the cock, pulling it out till the tip meets abby’s needy entrance, before slamming it back in to its hilt quickly.

“oh my-“ the rest of abby’s sentence is cut off with the warbling of words, the only thing coming out of her mouth being high-pitched incoherent moans. you roll your hips along with her, grinding your long-neglected bundle of nerves down aggressively against her dampening skin.

you pick up the pace further, thrusting the toy rhythmically, other hand coming up to rub small circles harshly around her abused clit. the movement of your hips grow more erratic, sliding easily with your slick as you near your own release.

“god, abby, look so perfect f’me,” you breath out, “my perfect girl.”

she responds with a whimper, getting off on not only direct stimulation, but the feeling of your drenched core against her, using her for your own pleasure. the sounds of the bedposts creaking fill the room as abby’s legs flex and tug together, nerves overwhelmed and alight.

“can i?” is the only thing abby says, her eyes finally unclouding for just a moment, begging for you to let her finish. she’s been this close to the line far too many times tonight, and never felt more desperate to reach an orgasm than she has now.

you pinch her clit lightly, giggling at the way abby jolts, and the adorable whine that comes from the back of her throat. you pretend to debate her plea in your head for only a second longer, enjoying the look of lust-filled desperation in abby’s watery eyes, before giving in, ordering her: “cum for me.”

with the slip of those words, music to her ears, abby lets her head fall back, heels digging into the mattress as she cries out beautifully. her hips buck into the air over and over again, chasing her release, while she quite literally, releases. liquid spurts out of her, making a mess of herself even more, dribbling pent-up finish onto her shaking thighs.

“ohh-“ is all abby moans, perhaps too caught up in her senses to fully assess what had just happened.

you continue to fuck her through her orgasm, rubbing sloppy shapes onto her clit, desperate to see more of her sweet juices leak out for you. “that’s my girl,” you praise her, murmuring, “just like that, let me hear your pretty sounds.”

“god, baby,” abby groans, starting to settle as she comes down from her high. a blissed-out smile takes form lazily on her sweaty face, as she gazes down at you riding out your own orgasm on her thigh, watching like you’re the fucking magnum opus of the world’s greatest.

seeing you catch your own breath, she murmurs, “arms,” reminding you to finally set her free from the leather ties. you nod, disheveled, but follow through nonetheless, reaching down to undo her legs from the bedposts as well.

the two of you curl up together in twisted sheets, whispers of i love you passed to and fro as you undo the tangles of her mussed-up hair.

“gotta go to the bathroom,” you mumble against her parted lips.

she shushes your words with a soft kiss, “we’ll go after, just stay here a sec,” tightening her large arms, wrists rubbed raw, around your frame.

~ a billion kisses to @laughsinlesbian for helping me read this over ;)

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littlemisslexapro55555 · 20 days

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we are eating good tonight!!!!

Chapter 5: The Aquarium

AO3 Link | Chapter 4 Link

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: angst; slowburn; enemies to friends to lovers; talks of purity culture/ideals and “sin”; internalized homophobia and some comp-het feelings (they’re both so gay but so dumb about it); animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/gore; descriptions of being hanged; religious/cult-like ideas; sorry (but not that sorry) to any Owen fans, but he’s kinda a huge asshole in this

Note: I added chapter titles and finally figured out exactly where I’m going with this story lol. Hooray for having a plan!!

(Sorry it took more than two weeks to get this chapter out! End-of-semester craziness, ya know? I hope this chapter being like twice as long as usual makes up for it!)

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Abby realized too late that she probably should’ve warned you about the life-sized whales on the ceiling.

By the look on your face, she could tell you’ve never seen anything like it.

Which made sense. She hadn’t either before she and Owen found this place three years ago.

She paused to watch you for just a second, taking in your amazed expression as you marveled at the enormous hanging sea creatures above you.

Abby could easily remember what her first time here was like. How incredible and other-worldly this place felt. She imagined it must be even more overwhelming for you, this fractured piece of a world you were not a part of and knew little about. A world where humans built a place where they could go to look at fish for no reason other than that it was entertaining. A world where people did things just for fun.

Of course, Abby had also never been a part of that world, but at least she knew about it. She’d caught glimpses of it, carefully and intentionally gathering bits and pieces. She watched films and documentaries. She read novels and history books, newspapers and magazines if she could find them.

Knowledge was power. And, to Abby, having power was important. Having power meant being able to keep the people she cared about safe.

And if you had enough power, no one could ever take it away from you.

So she dedicated herself to becoming powerful, both of mind and of body. It’s all she had known and cared about since she lost her dad.

It’s why she lost Owen.

She still wasn’t sure if that had been a good thing or a bad thing, but she knew she felt guilty about it.

Three years ago, Owen had quickly claimed the aquarium as his own. He cleaned it up, made it feel as homey as possible, and spent as much time here as he could get away with. Abby didn’t tell anyone, not even the rest of the Salt Lake crew. It was right around the time they were breaking up. She felt like she owed him her discretion at the very least. Not that it really made up for anything.

Yesterday morning, when Nora told Abby that Owen was missing, she assumed he’d come here.

God, she hoped she was right.

Abby shifted the injured Yara in her arms, her muscles burning from carrying the girl for so long.

It was early in the morning now. The sun had just begun to rise as the four of you had been making your way into the aquarium.

“Owen!” she shouted, leading the way down one of the hallways off the main entrance. Abby thought he would most likely be out on the boat, either sleeping or continuing in his never-ending attempts to get the thing in working order.

“Owen!” she called out again. “Owen! Are you here?”

She paused for a moment, listening. Nothing.

“Owen—”

“I’m here.” She heard his voice just before he rounded the corner, stopping short when he saw the whole group of you. “Are those Scars?” he asked, genuinely surprised and definitely confused as hell.

Abby ignored the question. “I need whatever medical supplies you have.”

Before Owen could respond, Alice came barreling around the corner, barking aggressively at the perceived enemies.

The next few seconds were chaotic to say the least.

You screamed and jumped back. Lev reacted quickly, his bow drawn and an arrow notched.

“Alice, no!” Abby yelled out.

Owen grabbed for the German Shepherd, holding her back as she continued to lunge forward, trying to attack.

“Put the bow down! It’s okay!” Abby shouted.

Owen gripped the dog’s harness tightly. “Put that down!”

“Alice, shut up! Lev, put the bow down!”

“Alice, stop—Abby, what the fuck?!”

“Lev, listen to them! Put it down!” you insisted, putting a hand on his shoulder as you tried to push him behind you.

All of this happened simultaneously, muffled by the sound of deafening, echoing barking.

“Alice!” a new voice, one that Abby knew belonged to Mel, shouted. To her, the dog listened, sitting down obediently with one final bark.

Mel stood next to Owen and Alice, staring.

There was a moment of silence.

Abby turned to the young boy. “Lev, lower the bow. It’s okay.”

Reluctantly, he listened.

“Abby, who are these people?” Mel asked.

“They saved my life,” she said, hoping that would be enough of an answer for now. “Can you take a look at her?” Abby looked down at Yara, who seemed to be barely conscious in her arms.

Mel dropped a hand on Alice’s head, instructing her to stay, as she slowly stepped closer, eyeing you and Lev cautiously.

“This is Yara,” Abby said before nodding over to the kid at her right, “That’s Lev. And that’s—” She stopped short. She wasn’t about to introduce you to them as Prophet.

Behind her, you spoke, offering up your name. Abby and Lev’s eyes both swung to you, widening for two entirely different reasons.

Abby’s because she was hearing your name for the first time. It was your name. It was like she discovered a brand new piece to this puzzle she had been frantically trying to assemble since the moment she saw you.

She wasn’t sure why Lev looked shocked, but it seemed like a big deal, for you to use your name in place of the title that had been forced upon you by the other Scars.

Abby quietly repeated the name, committing it to memory.

Mel gave a small nod, unaware of the mini revelation that was happening right in front of her, instead focusing on Yara with a concerned look on her face.

“What did this?” she asked, looking down at the girl’s mangled arm.

“A hammer,” you said, stepping forward until you were standing right next to Abby.

“It wasn’t me,” Abby quickly added. Guilty, despite her innocence. She was ashamed that she needed to make that clarification. Worried about what you would think about it.

Mel hesitated, regarding each of the Scars one by one again before sighing. “Alright. Let’s lay her down.”

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The pregnant woman—clearly someone Abby knew but wasn’t exactly friendly with—decided that Yara had compartment syndrome, which apparently meant they would have to cut her arm off.

While everyone else argued about the best way to accomplish that task, you stood off to the side, feeling sick. If you had been able to stop Emily’s men last night, this wouldn’t be happening.

It shouldn’t be happening.

Yara was going to lose her arm or die because you failed her.

You were trying not to spiral. Trying to be helpful now. (Too little, too late.) Trying to pay attention to the Wolves’ conversation.

They didn’t have the supplies they needed to perform the amputation safely. Yara didn’t have time to wait the couple days it would take Abby to travel all the way to the hospital and back.

“What if we could get you there in two hours?” Lev asked, hands grasping the metal table where Yara laid in the center of the room. “The Wolf hospital, right? On the west side?”

The man—Owen—stood, interested. “How?”

“The bridges,” you said, realizing what Lev was getting at. All eyes turned to you. “Our people built them. High up.”

Lev nodded. “It’s how we get around the flooding. And… you people.”

After a quiet moment, Abby stepped forward. “Can she handle two hours?”

The woman considered this, her hand comfortingly placed on Yara’s shoulder. “Probably, yeah.”

Abby nodded. “Then make a list of what you need.”

Owen stepped closer, joining the circle the rest of you had formed around Yara. “Wait. Are you serious? Abby, these bridges are used by Scars.”

The fact that he was arguing against the plan frustrated you. Yara didn’t have time for this.

“They only send in small groups at a time,” Lev said.

“You heard that? Small groups.” Abby said, watching as the other woman jotted down the supplies on a loose piece of paper and handed it over.

“This isn’t a joke.” Owen looked only at Abby, trying to catch her eyes. She seemed to be actively avoiding making contact.

Instead, she turned to you and said your name, followed by, “Let’s go.”

You looked up at her, at a loss for words. It was sad that something as simple as hearing your name could have this effect on you, but it had been eight years since you’d heard it… And this was already the second time Abby had said it.

You wanted to turn and walk right out the door with her, happy to follow her anywhere, but reality set it.

“I can’t,” you said. “I don’t know where the hospital is. And I don’t know our bridges well enough to guide you. It will have to be Lev.” It looked like Abby might argue with you, or at least tell you to come with them.

You wanted to. The idea of letting Lev go back out into danger without you made you sick with worry. But, foolish as it may seem, you trusted Abby to look out for him. And you didn’t understand these other Wolves and the strange dynamic at play here. You certainly didn’t trust them to be alone with Yara.

“Someone needs to stay with her,” you said, holding Abby’s gaze.

She nodded, grabbing her backpack off the floor. “Alright. Lev.”

He looked to you, taking your hand in his. The group splitting up must’ve felt wrong to him, too.

Almost on instinct, you did what you had been trained to do. You offered a bit of comfort.

“May She guide you,” you said quietly, giving him a small, encouraging smile as you squeezed his one hand between both of yours.

The words were familiar to you both, a common Seraphite mantra. He reciprocated your tight grasp and finished the line, “May She protect you.”

When you released his hand, he placed it on Yara’s shoulder, as if to tell her goodbye as well. She was unresponsive.

You felt a hand fall on your own shoulder and looked up to find that it was Abby. She nodded her head to the opposite end of the room, impatiently taking your wrist in her hand and leading you over there when you didn’t immediately catch her meaning.

She didn’t let go.

Abby stood close, speaking quietly so that no one else could hear. “We’ll be back as soon as possible. Yara’s going to be fine, okay. And I’ll keep Lev safe.”

You couldn’t help the slight upward curve of your lips. “I know,” you said. “I trust you.”

She blinked, caught off guard, but continued. “I wouldn’t mention the whole you-being-the-Prophet thing to Owen and Mel if I were you.”

“I’m not a prophet,” you deadpanned.

She let out an exasperated breath. “Okay, sure. Well I wouldn’t tell them that the Scars think—”

“Seraphites,” you interjected.

“—Seraphites—Just… you get the point. Don’t mention it, okay?”

“What if they ask questions?”

“Dodge them. Be vague.”

“You don’t trust your friends?” you asked, more serious now.

“No,” Abby said. “Not with you.”

You couldn’t begin to guess what she meant by that.

“I trust them… for the most part.” She glanced at them over your shoulder before meeting your eyes again. “I just don’t know how they would react to that information. It’s not exactly a small thing. I don’t know what they would do with it.”

You looked at her for while longer, then nodded your head. “Okay. I won’t say anything.”

“Abby?” the man’s voice came from behind you.

She let go of your wrist immediately, as if she had been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

You turned around to find the woman—Mel—and Owen both looking at you like they were witnessing something truly insane, instead of just two people having a conversation.

Lev stood on his own by the door, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, eager to get moving.

From behind you, you felt Abby’s hand wrap around your wrist again, squeezing lightly and then letting go.

“We’ll be back,” she said, this time at a normal volume. She joined Lev by the door, opening it and leading the way out.

“Abby!” Owen said again, moving to follow them out.

Mel groaned, frustrated. “God! Owen, just let them go.” When he ignored her, she went after him, the door slamming loudly behind her.

You stayed behind with Yara.

She was blinking slowly, barely awake, her shallow breaths too few and far between for your liking. You felt helpless, knowing there wasn’t much you could do other than sit and wait.

You pulled up a chair.

Just outside the door, the two Wolves were arguing. Although, you only caught bits and pieces of it.

Something about Abby and Scars and a cloak… Something about someone who looked like she just stepped out of The Lord of the Rings. You didn’t know what that meant, but it was clear they were talking about you.

Again, you unfastened the cloak and freed yourself of your top layer. Whether that was due to embarrassment or a sudden recognition of the uncomfortable warmth of the room, you couldn’t tell.

“Did you see how she was looking at her?” “Owen, why do you care? Why does it matter to you?” you heard through the door.

The dynamic here was becoming more and more confusing.

You’d assumed that Owen was the father of Mel’s child, just because they seemed to live here together. But that didn’t explain Mel’s rather apparent unfavorable opinion of Abby. And it definitely didn’t explain Owen’s preoccupation with Abby.

Their conversation continued for several minutes, volume rising and falling periodically. There wasn’t much you understood and even less of it seemed important or interesting to you.

Eventually, the door swung open again, making you jump in your seat. Mel reentered the room, offering you a strained smile as she checked on Yara. You quietly watched her work.

“There’s not much we can do for her until Abby and your friend get back,” she said to you, eyes still focused on Yara. “If you want, I can get you set up with a place to sleep while we wait.”

“No,” you said, too quickly to be polite. “…Thank you. I’ll stay with Yara.”

Mel pulled her lips into a tight line and nodded, leaving the room again. She came back a few minutes later with water and a shiny red apple, offering them up for you to take.

“Sorry. I know it’s not much. Owen isn’t well-stocked on food right now,” she said after you’d accepted the snack.

You smiled. “Thank you. You’re very kind to be helping us at all.”

Mel didn’t really answer, instead gesturing to the door as she walked toward it. “Well, we’ll… be around. If you need anything. And I’ll come in and check on her periodically.”

You nodded, quietly thanking her again. The discarded cloak that you’d left on a table by the door caught your eye. “Oh. Wait.”

She turned to face you again, eyebrows raised in question.

“What is The Lord of the Rings?” you asked.

----------------------------------------------------------------

An excursion that was supposed to take two hours ended up taking nearly all day.

But hey, Abby had done the best she could.

She faced her deeply-rooted fear of heights on that sorry excuse for a bridge. She fought off Infected and Scars. She was, let’s say, detained by her fellow WLF soldiers at the hospital. And then she had to fight and kill what must’ve been the biggest, gnarliest, freakiest blob of cordyceps infection to ever exist.

She barely got out of there alive, but she managed to leave with the medical supplies in hand. Plus tons of new material for her future nightmares.

Mel had started operating as soon as they got back to the aquarium, with Owen assisting her.

You and Lev sat just outside the door the entire time.

The surgery had gone well. Yara was doing okay, all things considered.

After, Owen handed Abby a pile of sleeping bags and blankets and walked off without saying a word.

Abby handed them off to you and carefully lifted Yara again, this time to move her to a more comfortable spot to rest. She led the way to the next room, you and Lev trailing behind.

There was a long couch in the new room. You motioned for Lev to lay down on one end while Abby set Yara down on the other.

She stepped back and watched, amused, as you fussed over the two of them for a few minutes, using most of the blankets on your young friends.

When you were sure they were both as comfortable as possible, you left them to rest and walked back over to Abby. In your arms, you held the two sleeping bags that you hadn’t used on the kids.

You offered one of them to her.

She shook her head, motioning to the space on the floor in front of the couch where there was an old, worn-out rug.

“Lay mine out for me? I have to go do something before I go to sleep.”

“You’re leaving?” you asked, looking concerned.

“I just need to talk to Owen. I’ll be right back.”

You studied her face, like you were trying to figure out whether or not she was being truthful.

Abby doubled down, pointing again. “Go. Get some sleep. I’ll be back.”

You sighed but went where she had pointed and began laying out the two sleeping bags.

One for you. One for her. Right next to each other on the floor.

You had been doing a good job of hiding it, but Abby could tell you were exhausted. She couldn’t blame you. Hell, she was exhausted. And the sooner she touched base with Owen, the sooner she could come back.

She turned and went out to track him down.

----------------------------------------------------------------

You didn’t know what was wrong with you.

You had been awake for almost forty-eight hours, but you couldn’t fall asleep. Your mind was racing. Filled with worry for Yara, concern about her condition, guilt for having been unable to prevent the injury from happening in the first place. Thoughts of your own people hunting your friends with the intent to kill them. Fear that, despite your desire to keep them safe, your lack of knowledge and experience in the world outside of Haven would make that impossible.

You thought about the woman you killed yesterday. How she’d so tenderly and earnestly called you her Prophet just moments before you snuck up behind her and ended her life.

You wondered if you too were now an apostate. If the Seraphites had found the bodies of Emily and her men and assumed you were dead, or if they somehow knew that you betrayed them all the very moment you were given the chance.

You wondered if your mother knew what you had done. If she would be punished for your sins.

You thought about Abby, hoping that your faith in her was not misplaced. Hoping that your attraction to her hadn’t clouded your judgment.

This was crazy. All of it. It was too much.

You had tossed everything and everyone you’ve ever known aside, thrown the first twenty years of your life to the wind like it meant nothing at all, and run off into the forest with a Wolf without a second thought. And now that you, Yara, and Lev were finally (seemingly) not in immediate danger, you had time to think things through. Contemplate what you’d done and try to figure out where it left you.

By your own hand, your life had been irreparably changed forever. It was done. There was no undoing it. No going back.

You would stay with Lev and Yara. You would stay with Abby if that’s what she wanted.

But where would you go? It wasn’t safe for any of you to stay here.

That wasn’t a question you could answer. You didn’t know of anywhere else. You wouldn’t know how to find a place that was safe.

All of these thoughts bombarded your mind at once, taking turns at the forefront. Contradicting emotions swirled, adding to the chaos.

There was a sadness, a sense of loss for the people you had always belonged to.

Guilt and shame. Two feelings that were not at all foreign to you, but you had never felt as strongly as you did now.

A lightness. A happiness. Almost a thrill. A hopeful nervousness for the freedom you had claimed for yourself, the agency you had uncovered, and the possibility of what was to come.

Sadness, again, for the mother you would miss, and the realization that you had already been missing her for a very long time.

Frustration—simmering anger—for your childhood that was stolen and the shame that did not originate within yourself. The unrelenting voices that lived in your head, weighing in on every thought and critiquing every action. But those voices were not your own. You would take your dagger and cut their presence from your mind, carefully carving them out of your head and disposing of them yourself if you could.

And, amongst everything else taking up space inside of you, demanding your attention, it felt stupid and frivolous and wasteful, but you couldn’t keep Abby from your thoughts. She kept appearing, in the middle of it all. This was something that you truly did not have time for and should not be putting energy toward.

But you had never felt intrinsically drawn to someone in the way you were drawn to her…

Behind you, you could hear slow, heavy breaths coming from either end of the couch. You were glad that Lev and Yara were getting some rest. You’d do your best to make sure they got their fill of it this time.

You got up quietly, trying not to disturb them but feeling like you needed to move. You shook out your arms, rolled your neck around, wiggled your fingers, stretched your legs.

Honestly, you wanted run. Or hit something. Or scream. Loudly and for a long time. Until you ran out of air and your voice was ragged.

But you didn’t do any of those things.

Instead, you went to look for Abby.

----------------------------------------------------------------

“Seriously? You’re telling me Isaac’s top Scar killer just… turned over a new leaf? Decided to befriend and help three Scars?” Mel was staring into Abby’s soul, her words dripping in disbelief.

Abby had found her and Owen upstairs, in the same room that had once housed the boat man’s skeleton and the couple’s Christmas stockings (not at the same time, of course).

Owen was angry. Exactly what she had done to earn his anger, she couldn’t say. He held a jar of his homemade moonshine. A jar that was somewhere between three-quarters and one half full. Abby assumed it had been filled to the top just a few minutes ago.

He had apparently decided to be a silent, brooding drunk tonight, so Mel had been the one to interrogate her.

Abby tried to explain everything, albeit keeping things pretty vague. She didn’t want to give them too much information about you specifically, and she didn’t want them to get the wrong idea about you, so she made sure to omit the part where you nearly gutted her. And the part where you were the new Scar Prophet that Isaac was after.

Mel wasn’t buying the part where Abby simply had a change of heart.

She shot Owen a cautious look before she said, “Abby, do you—I thought you might—Is it possible that you’re…” Mel stopped, gathering her thoughts, trying to find the best way to word it. “It’s not… like… a problem that she’s a woman. It’s just… it is kind of a big deal that she’s a Scar—”

“Abby isn’t into a fucking Scar,” Owen interjected, his knuckles white around the mouth of the jar. “And she’s not fucking gay.”

Then he started chugging the jar’s contents, forcing down swallow after painful swallow.

The women were both silent for a second, surprised by the anger in his words.

Abby didn’t know what to say. She knew she was into you—and she’d be lying if she said that wasn’t at least part of the reason why she was helping you and your friends—but she had never considered if that made her gay.

She honestly didn’t really care to label herself as anything either way. It felt stupid—in the honest-to-god post-apocalyptic hellscape that they lived in, where they had been engaged in a never-ending war since they were kids—to care about that kind of thing.

Why should it matter—when her family was dead, her friends were constantly in danger, and there were enemies closing in from every angle—if she was romantically or sexually interested in men or women or both? Wasn’t that almost guaranteed to be the least important detail at any given moment? And why should she waste any of her time or energy trying to define herself in that way?

This was all really new to her. She hadn’t really let herself be interested in anyone since Owen, and she honestly wasn’t sure if she had ever been into him for the right reasons. Again, she remembered how uncomfortable it made her feel to kiss him, to be touched by him…

She couldn’t imagine that it would feel like that if you touched her. And just the fact that she hoped one day she’d find out was probably telling enough.

So maybe, in the Old World, people would’ve called Abby a lesbian. Maybe she would’ve identified with that title if things were different, if her life was lower stakes, and if she’d had more time to explore herself and her interests.

What-ifs didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was here now. You were with her—and she needed to figure out a plan of how to proceed from here—so she could make sure to keep it that way. She could figure out the rest later.

Mel was the first to speak, annoyed, but addressing him calmly, like she was talking to a rabid animal. “Owen—”

He didn’t even let her get a word in.

“No. This is bullshit! Abby—” He looked past Mel to meet Abby’s gaze, insistent. “I’m going to Santa Barbara to find the Fireflies. If you’re smart, you’ll ditch the Scars and come with me.”

Mel slammed her hands on the table, causing both Abby and Owen to jump. “What the hell do you mean, you’re going to Santa Barbara?! We are going to Santa Barbara!” They weren’t used to seeing violent outbursts from Mel. She was the queen of passive aggression, but she rarely lost her cool. “What is wrong with you, Owen? Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? This is all so seriously fucked up.” She turned away from them, clenching her fists at her sides, looking like she might cry. Or hit something. Or both.

But for the first time in years, Abby wasn’t on the receiving end of her disdain.

Guess all she had to do for her old friend to stop seeing her as a threat was get entangled with the Scar Prophet. No big deal.

Owen, in a moment of clarity, seemed to realize how huge of an asshole he was being to the mother of his child. He set down his jar, stood, and walked over to Mel, putting his hands on her hips and pulling her into him, her back pressed against his front. He was swaying on his feet, his cheeks flushed, hands clumsy. If he hadn’t been drunk before, he definitely was now. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. We are going to Santa Barbara. Of course it’s we. Hell, the Scars can come too for all I care. We’ll make it a party.”

Abby rolled her eyes at his quick switch-up and turned to go. Clearly this conversation wasn’t going anywhere productive tonight, with Owen drunk, Mel upset, and all of them exhausted beyond belief.

There was a creak by the door, and all three of them turned to look, Owen’s reaction far more delayed than Abby and Mel’s.

You stood there in your long white dress, hesitant to come in. Shy, having clearly interrupted a tense conversation.

Abby wondered how long you’d been standing there unnoticed. Her instinct was to meet you in the doorway and take you back to bed, away from Owen’s rude drunkenness and Mel’s inquisitive eyes.

“Hey! Scar! How the hell are ya? Come join us! We were just talking about sunny California. Ever been?” Owen pulled away from Mel and plopped back down on the couch, finding his jar again.

“Umm…” You looked to Abby for guidance, but she was just as unsettled as you. “No. I haven’t… Sorry, I was just looking for Abby.”

��Yeah, I bet you were,” he mumbled under his breath. Abby wasn’t sure if you caught that, but she wasn’t interested in having you hear any more of this.

“Let’s just go,” she said to you, moving toward where you still stood in the doorway.

“No! Come! Sit! Let’s talk,” Owen insisted, slapping the spot next to him on the couch.

You gave Abby another hesitant look before walking past her to join Owen. Mel sighed and lowered herself into a nearby chair. When it became clear to her that retreating with you wasn’t an option right now, Abby walked back over. She stood right across from the couch so she could see you, leaned against the wall behind her with her arms crossed over her chest.

You sat next to Owen, although not so close, putting as much distance between you as possible.

“Atta girl,” he chuckled. Abby wanted to punch him.

All of this was out of character for Owen, but she knew that he was always kind of unpredictable when he got drunk. With everything that had happened and emotions running so high, everyone really should just be going to sleep.

With that in mind, Abby would continue to stand nearby until you were ready to leave. She wouldn’t let things get out of hand.

“So… Scar—”

“Seraphite,” Abby corrected him. He scoffed and took another swig.

You smiled softly at her, looking grateful.

“Scar,” he said again. “Can I perhaps interest you in some hooch? Made it myself.” He offered up the jar for you to take, tilting it towards you with unsteady hands.

“No,” Abby immediately answered on your behalf. “She does not want any of your hooch.”

“Well give the girl a chance to answer,” he slurred. “What? Your little girlfriend can’t speak for herself? She can’t make her own decisions?”

You glanced back and forth between him and her, reaching for the open jar of clear liquid, properly baited by his taunting words.

Abby tried to remember that Owen was her friend—her best friend—and that he wasn’t usually like this.

“What is… hooch?” you asked, staring down into the glass jar suspiciously.

“It’s moonshine,” Abby said. When that didn’t clear things up for you, she added, “Alcohol.”

“Like wine?” you asked, tentatively sniffing it.

Owen laughed. Abby nodded, “Kind of, but it’s much stronger. Seriously, you won’t like it.”

There was a flash of something that looked like defiance in your eyes, offense taken at the idea that you wouldn’t be able to handle something that others could.

You put the jar to your lips and tilted it back enough to take in a generous mouthful.

Abby watched as your eyes went wide and you struggled to swallow it. Honestly, she was impressed that you didn’t immediately spit it out. You managed to choke it down before breaking out in a harsh coughing fit.

Owen laughed, accepting the jar as you shoved it back into his hands. Your eyes watered as you tapped on your sternum, taking a second to regain the ability to speak.

“You made that?” you wheezed in disbelief.

“Yep!”

“On purpose?”

Abby laughed at that, leaning back against the wall again once she was convinced that you weren’t dying.

“Hey, that’s prime hooch! You should be thanking me right now.” Owen took his own swig of it, lounging back against the couch with his arm resting along the back.

“Thank you?” You squinted your eyes but tried to be polite.

“I was kidding, princess. You don’t have to thank me.”

Abby, again, resisted the urge to punch him in the face.

“So,” Owen began, “tell me. How is it that you’re a Scar… but you’re not scarred?” He chuckled to himself, as if he had made a joke.

Your eyes shot to meet Abby’s, clearly unprepared to answer that question.

“Not every Seraphite has facial scars,” you said, keeping things vague.

“Every Scar I’ve ever seen does.”

“You’ve seen me, haven’t you?” you shot back.

Abby let out a surprised laugh. Owen clenched his jaw.

“Every Scar has face scars. It’s like your defining thing. It’s why we call you Scars.” He was adamant, unyielding. And the playful mask was starting to slip back into anger. Abby could tell this wasn’t going to end well.

“Well I guess you don’t know as much about Seraphites as you thought you did.” You were frustrated now, pressing yourself further into the far end of the couch to put more distance between the two of you.

Owen opened his mouth with a rebuttal, but Abby jumped in. “Lay off, Owen.”

He threw his hands up in surrender, leaning back against the brown cushions. “Fine, fine. Whatever. Forgive me for having questions. Fuck me, I guess. I’ve just never seen a hot Scar befo—”

Before he could finish the sentence, Mel was on her feet. “Alright. That’s it. You’re done.” She had been sitting silently up until then, ready to intervene if things got out of hand, just as Abby had been. Apparently, Owen calling you hot was where she drew the line.

Abby was glad Mel was saying something. Because if things had gone much further, she really might’ve hit him.

“Get up,” Mel instructed firmly, standing over him. “You’re going to bed.” He let her take the jar out of his hands and, with much effort, pushed himself up off the couch and started walking toward the door. Mel was right behind him, hands hovering on either of his sides in case he lost his balance. He was grumbling under his breath the whole way, like a toddler whose bedtime was being enforced.

Abby watched them go.

Once they were out of sight, she looked down at you, only to find that we were already looking at her.

“Sorry,” she spit out. “About him. He’s not usually like that.”

You nodded, but you didn’t seem sure that you believed her.

“So you guys are… friends?”

Abby cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah. We’ve known each other for years. Joined the WLF together. Me, Owen, Mel, and a few others.”

You considered this for a second before responding. “Where were you before?”

“Salt Lake City,” she said, looking down at her feet. “Utah.” Abby didn’t know if that would mean anything to you.

“Mel doesn’t seem to like you very much,” you said, observant, not trying to offend. Abby smiled, despite the meaning behind your words. You added, “And Owen doesn’t seem to like me.” You stated it like it was a fact, like it was neither good nor bad, just true.

“He’ll get over it. He’s just drunk.” Abby didn’t know if that was true, but she wanted to comfort you in that moment, not that you actually seemed to care all that much about Owen’s opinion of you.

“Can I ask you a question?” You were looking up at her, eyes wide and vulnerable.

Anything, Abby thought. Out loud, she said, “Sure.”

She pushed away from the wall and came to sit next to you on the couch, filling the spot where Owen had been.

“Why do you people keep calling me princess?” you asked. Abby laughed quietly under her breath, turning her body to face you.

“I don’t know. There’s something about you that’s very princess-like I guess.”

You made a face at her. She smiled wider.

“It’s not a bad thing. You just come across as soft. Delicate. I don’t know… Graceful.”

“I am not delicate,” you said, defensive.

“I know.”

“I’ve killed.”

“I saw.” Abby was being serious, although she did find the conversation amusing. “You’re very skilled with a knife.”

You nodded, satisfied with her response, and fully turned to face Abby. “And what does hot mean? Why did he call me hot?”

“Oh—” Abby stuttered, “Uh—He meant… He was saying that you’re very pretty.”

“Oh.” You considered this, eyes wandering away. “Earlier he said I look like The Lord of the Rings.”

Abby smiled again. There was something about you that felt like it might’ve been taken straight from the high fantasy genre.

“Do you know what that is?” she asked.

“Yes. Sort of. I asked Mel. She said it was a film about a magical land. With fairies and stuff.”

“They were books first.”

“Have you read them?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you read a lot of books?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“I try to read as much as I can. Whatever’s available.”

You nodded, thinking, letting the conversation die down.

After a moment, “Abby?”

“Hmm?” she hummed. She liked the way you said her name. Just the sound of it made her heart beat a little bit faster.

“Owen also called me your girlfriend.” You were studying her face, trying to read her reaction.

“Yeah. He did.” Abby said, looking into your inquisitive eyes.

“Does that just mean friend? Or is it something else?”

“He was just trying to piss me off.”

“So it does mean something else?” Your eyes were on her lips now, and you were ever so slightly leaned forward. Almost subconsciously.

“It doesn’t matter,” Abby said. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

She was pushing you away, and she didn’t know why. She could’ve answered that question so differently. Maybe she should’ve.

Abby wanted you. And she was almost certain that you felt the same way. At the very least, there was a curiosity. A hesitant attraction.

But she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was wrong. That anything with you would be something she wasn’t good enough for.

Something she didn’t deserve.

Something she would ruin if given the chance.

So tonight, she didn’t give herself that chance.

Was that noble or cowardly? She wasn’t sure.

You pulled away, turning to face forward as you let out a long breath, puffing out your cheeks.

“I’m tired,” you said, standing. “And I should check on Yara and Lev.”

“Yeah.” Abby nodded. “Okay.”

She remained in place, ready to mentally beat herself up some more and stew in her thoughts alone for a while.

You cleared your throat lightly, swaying on your feet. “Umm… I’m not sure that I can find my way back to the room. Can you… please—?”

“Oh.” Abby hopped to her feet. “Okay, yeah. I’ll… I guess I’ll go with you.”

She avoided eye contact, leading the way into the dark hallway.

124 notes · View notes

littlemisslexapro55555 · 23 days

Text

i heart ellie pining

is it casual now?

chapter 1

summary: you and ellie agreed that this was just for a little fun - so what's the harm in her inviting you to joel's for a movie night?

word count: 2.3k

tags: nsfw, fingering (e and r receiving), angst, dub con?? i think?, does this count as public sex?, this shit's messy af y'all, mean reader, toxic relationship

a/n: i've wanted to write a fic based off this song for a while now. i've seen a few people write it (the song's a banger) but i only ever see ellie being written as the distant toxic one and tbh i don't think that matches her character so here's the opposite

also i hid a one last stop reference in here if you find it you get a prize (it's not hard to find)

if you wanna be tagged in the things i post, just lmk in the replies!

Joel was trying to decide what movie you should watch.

At least, Ellie thought he was. She could see the way his lips were moving - could even make out the words Dawn of the Wolf, whatever that meant - but she couldn’t actually hear him. She sat across from him at the dining table, nodding along, trying to school her expression into a pantomime of interest, but his words were drowned out by the ringing in her ears.

Your hand on her thigh crept higher.

Ellie shifted in the uncomfortable wood chair, uncrossing her legs only to recross them, and your hand didn’t move. You stroked slow circles into her jeans with your thumb; she would have thought it was absentminded if she didn’t know you so well. Ellie could see you in her peripheral. You smiled politely, nodding along as Joel listed off what movies he had found lately - it had become his mission to hunt for them while he was on patrol. (He always insisted that Ellie needed to be familiar with all the classics from before the outbreak.)

Somewhere past the sound of her heart pounding in her ears, Ellie heard Joel say her name. She blinked, shifted in her seat again, and replied intelligently, “Huh?”

He shook his head at her and laughed as he said, “Where you at, kiddo?”

She ran a hand through her hair, purposely avoiding looking at you - she knew she’d only find that shit-eating smile on your face. “Sorry, had patrol late last night. Yeah, that movie sounds cool.” She had no idea what movie he had suggested.

It didn’t matter much in the end. After switching off the lights, Joel sat back in his big old recliner (he’d looked like a fucking kid on Christmas morning when Tommy gave that to him), leaving the couch to you and Ellie. You leaned into her with your head on her shoulder; she had her arm draped over the back of the couch, not quite touching you. She was dancing a fine line between wanting to hold you and knowing you wouldn’t let her, but the tightrope was slipping from under her feet because you had put your fucking hand on her thigh again. She’d swear there was a damn magnet connecting your hand to her.

Ellie covered a gasp with a cough when your hand drifted between her legs. Your eyes were glued to the flickering television, but there was no hiding the small, satisfied smile on your lips. And she fucking hated herself for wanting to kiss it more than anything.

The tattered blanket you shared covered up the fact that the tips of your fingers were grazing across the seam of her jeans. Even the ghost of friction made her squirm, the movie becoming nothing more than white noise. You were too fucking bold, and her head spun when your nimble fingers undid the button and slid the zipper down so slowly it ached. When your fingertips dipped below the waistband of her boxers, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Joel. He was enthralled in the movie, and she couldn’t even pay attention to it; she hated herself for that too.

She knew she shouldn’t; she knew she should’ve grabbed your wrist, told you to stop so she could just enjoy the movie with her… with Joel. He’d been trying to plan a movie night with her for a week, and tonight she had finally been free from patrol. God, she shouldn’t have invited you, but when he asked if she wanted to bring a friend, of course your name had popped up.

She should have known it would be a mistake - an intoxicating one, but a mistake nonetheless. And when you dragged your fingers over her, pressing the lightest pressure to her clit, it took everything in her not to tilt her hips against your hand in search of friction.

Ellie bit down on her lip so hard she'd swear she tasted blood when you dipped just the tips of your fingers inside her. It was embarrassing how easy it was - how wet she already was and you had hardly even touched her. But when you circled her clit, your fingers already soaked, the shame burning in her chest evaporated. Her eyes fluttered, heat burning in her stomach, your touch setting her aflame. Her fingers dug into the back of the couch. She longed to touch you, to just wrap her arm around you and hold you close, press your head to her chest so you could hear how her heart reached for you.

Instead, she could only grip the couch behind your shoulder, gritting her teeth against the ache of it. You didn't even look at her, playing with her as though it were an afterthought, but there was no missing the smirk on your lips. She hated it; God, she wanted to kiss you.

Ellie didn't dare look at Joel - she didn't think she could handle seeing him so engrossed in the movie he had been so excited to show her while she sat only a few feet away, coming undone on his couch. She couldn't handle the shame rising in her throat again. If she looked at him, she was sure she'd be sick right there.

She tried so hard to keep it together - her hips ached from the force of holding them still, her lip surely cracked from biting it. Her chest burned with the moans she had to swallow like acid. But she couldn't keep it all in - it was overflowing. And when finally, the coil in her stomach threatening to snap, a low groan spilled from her lips, Joel turned to look at her.

Ellie didn't want to think about what he saw, but whatever it was, it made his brow pinch in concern. She couldn't meet his worried eyes when he said, “You okay, kiddo? You don't look too good.”

Your fingers hadn't even fucking slowed. You looked at her with a mask of concern, batting your eyes so innocently even as you pressed your fingers into her, curling them so you hit that spot that made her see stars. And then Ellie did grab you, gripping your shoulder in warning and glaring down at you. You wrinkled your nose, but relented and slid your fingers out of her; her grip tightened when you slid back over her clit. Fuck, she never should've invited you.

Ellie cleared her throat; she couldn't look at either of you without feeling sick, so she turned her gaze to the movie. What was it even about?

“Sorry, I just-” Her voice was strained, suffocating in her own throat. She felt like she was going to swallow her own tongue. The coil in her stomach tightened and she felt nauseous. She groaned again, and the words tripped over themselves in a rush when she said, “I don't feel good.”

Ellie stumbled to her feet, forcing you to withdraw your hand; when she glanced down, she could see that your fingers were wet and it made her stomach twist. Keeping one hand over her stomach to hide the fact that her fucking pants were undone, she hurried from the room, ignoring Joel when he called after her. She couldn't look him in the eye or else she might actually puke.

Making a beeline for the bathroom, Ellie slammed the door behind her and leaned against it, the wood cold against her back. She took a deep breath, counting the cracks in the ceiling until her heart finally stopped bashing against her ribs, her throat burning. Pinprick tears stung her eyes as she fixed her pants, her fingers shaking so hard she could hardly grasp the button.

Cursing under her breath, Ellie braced her hands on the bathroom sink, her shoulders sagging. Her eyes were rimmed red; she scrubbed her hands over her face roughly, willing her stomach to settle.

She shouldn’t have been upset, really. The first time your hand had found its way into her pants, all those months ago, you had made it perfectly clear what this was. She could still hear your voice from that night, saccharine sweet and smelling like the whiskey you had nabbed from her cabinet: Come on, Els, Jackson’s so boring. We can just have a little fun, right? She remembered the weight of your body when you climbed onto her lap, your thighs warm on either side of her hips, your hands pressing her back against the couch. She could still feel the way your breath had ghosted over her neck, your voice dripping with honeyed desire: It's just a little fun.

Her own eyes looked so unfamiliar, a stranger peering at her from the bathroom mirror.

Cursing again, she turned on the faucet, bending to splash water on her face - it was December and the water was so cold it numbed her hands. It was a welcome relief against her burning skin.

Ellie felt so fucking dirty it hurt. No matter how she scrubbed at her skin, rubbing it raw, she couldn’t seem to rid herself of it. The cold water stung her cheeks.

A knock on the door made her jump, cold water splashing down the front of her shirt. She cursed, pulling the damp fabric away from her chest with a grimace before calling, “Give me a minute, okay?”

But you had never been very good at listening, had you? You didn’t even look surprised when you pushed the door open, ignoring her protest, and found Ellie leaning against the counter, water still dripping from her chin. If anything, you looked almost amused, quirking an eyebrow at her. It was the look you gave her every time you got her worked up, your eyes showing the laughter you bit back. She fucking hated that look.

Ellie glared over her shoulder at you, but there was no real malice behind it - even when she hated you, something in her still softened when you were around. A switchblade girl with a cotton candy heart.

You closed the door softly behind you, leaning back against it with a smug smile that she wanted to wipe off your face - she just wasn’t sure how she wanted to yet. Ellie could hear how your ego tinted your voice when you said, “Joel sent me to check on you. Probably thinks you're barfing your guts out or something.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, looking away from you and mumbling, “Yeah, I guess dinner didn’t sit well….”

You scoffed and the sound went straight to her stomach. She felt rather than saw you step behind her; she tensed when you placed your hands on her hips, leaning forward to put your chin on her shoulder. Her hands gripped the edges of the sink so hard she thought the porcelain might crack. She could feel the heat of your body all the way down her back, your hips pressing into her ass, and her traitorous heart fluttered embarrassingly.

Ellie met your eyes in the reflection, watching as your smile grew into something almost mocking. You placed a kiss on the back of her neck, pressing your words into her skin: “Damn, Els, I didn’t know Dawn of the Wolf got you so hot and bothered.” Your fingers pressed into her hips, pulled her back against you. She failed to smother the sigh it pulled from her. She hated how it made your smile widen, and she hated even more how much she wanted to fucking kiss it off your stupid face. She shivered when she felt your teeth graze over her neck, and almost missed it when you muttered, laughing, “God, you’re so fucking easy, you know that?”

Ellie shoved away from the counter, spinning on her heel and grabbing your wrist before you could flinch away. You had only blinked before she slammed you back against the wall, praying that Joel didn’t hear it. Her fingers wrapped so tightly around your wrist she could feel your pounding pulse, pressing it to the wall above your head. She slipped her thigh between your legs, pressing up into you, and she only had a moment to register that smug fucking grin before she slapped a hand over your mouth. She relished in the way your eyes flashed in something akin to fear. She had to find wins where she could, right?

Leaning forward so her nose brushed yours, Ellie growled into the back of her hand, “Don’t make a fucking sound.”

And she did get to wipe that cocky smile off your face. She kept her hand over your mouth, releasing your wrist to snake her arm between your legs. She muffled your moans, hissing when your nails dug into her biceps.

Joel was in the next room, she thought distantly. Joel was in the next room, watching the movie he had been so excited to show her. He was in the next room, concerned about her, waiting for her, and here she was pressing her best friend into the wall of his bathroom. She had your pants around your ankles, two - three - fingers pushing into you. She could feel the vibrations of your moans against her hand - she wanted to press her lips to yours and swallow them, knowing you would never let her.

It came too fast, Ellie pressing into you relentlessly if only to make you fucking shut up for once. Your body shuddered against her, and she wanted to hold you through it, but by the time it was over you were already pushing her away. When her hand fell from your mouth, you were smiling again. Maybe she was going to be sick after all.

@filtered-sunlight

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littlemisslexapro55555 · 30 days

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unhealthily addicted to this

TEACHER'S PET — MASTERLIST

Professor Anderson swears she is a woman of good morals, but what happens when those morals are challenged by one of her students? Your strong attraction towards each other eventually leads to something more— something passionate, real. But when the rose tinted glasses inevitably come off, everything starts to fall apart.

pairing: professor!abby x student!reader

cw: age gap (21 and 38), smut, fluff, angst, fem reader? reader has longer hair, formal titles like 'professor' and 'miss anderson', switch!abby x switch!reader, unethical relationship, questionable morals

CHAPTER ONE ➜ read here

CHAPTER TWO ➜ read here

CHAPTER THREE ➜ read here

CHAPTER FOUR ➜ loading...

to be added to the TAGLIST comment under this post

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littlemisslexapro55555 · 1 month

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krgjjsghukgewsfvvsswdffhjuygnbfrrhkk

unwanted smoke sessions

ellie williams x reader

ೀ this is just a pure nasty thought in my high mind rn like RIGHT NEOW!!! enjoy this mini drabble.

ೀ we seen mean!dealer ellie on 4/20 but what about sub!ellie yall likeee😩🤧

ೀ description: SMUT! sub!ellie, dom!reader, mean!reader, no descriptions of reader except yall is smoking!, mentions of dina!, use of sex toy (vibrator use—ellie rec), poessesive!reader, USE OF BELT BONDAGE (ellie rec), mentions of jealous reader, HELLA OVERSTIMULATION (ellie rec), fingering (ellie rec), slight cum denial (if u squint frfr) 💝

you had walked in ellie and dina having a smoke sesh together. they passed the blunt that was shared in between the both of them, sitting closely as their shoulders brushed each other’s.

you observed them for a good miniute before walking through, dina scooting away slightly which just made your blood boil more.

they were passing a dutchie, might aswell been fuckin’ french kissing while at it.

“you love this, don’t you? pretty girl.” you praised as you puffed on your joint lazily. one of your hands held the joint you puffed on as the other held a slim bullet vibrator up to Ellie’s overstimulated clit.

you were working ellie to her third orgasm of the day, legs sprawled open and wide across as her hands were pulled together by your own pretty shiny belt as they thrashed against her chest; squirming around as she cries out your name.

“jesus fuck—please!” ellie begged.

ellie wasn’t much of a moaner, more of a whimper and silent-like sounds falling from her lips, but tonight. tonight was different.

you wanted her to be loud, you were making sure of it.

“you also loved your little sesh with dina, huh baby?” you were coy and your face gleamed dangerously. you click the vibrator once, setting it higher. you listen to the way the vibration level increases through the loud buzzes coming from the beautiful pleasureable machinery.

you cocked your head to the side as you brought your joint to take another drag, your face completely deadpan as you press the tip of the slim bullet into her clit more then angling it.

you smoked your joint without a care, as if you didn’t have your girlfriend squirming and screaming right under you.

“no! fuck—please no, it was nothing! i swear.” she cried out, her hips bucking into the machinery helplessly. your brows furrowed, exhaling.

“oh… no? then why were you so close, my love? all gigglin’—smilin’ and shit. you think she cute?” you turn the vibrator slightly, circling it around her own cum coated clit aswell.

ellies chest heaved as she practically tore out cries from her throat because of the overwhelming sensation of pressuring high vibrations on her soak and vulnerable arousal. “god no! no! y’know this—pu-please!” ellie was crumbling, exactly how you wanted.

“know what? only thing i know is who’s pussy this belong too—you remember, don’t’ya?” you gritted through your teeth.

you leaned down to kiss away the tears that dare to fall from the corners of ellie’s eyes, bringing up your hand to caress her hot pink cheeks as you looked into her flushed and fucked out eyes.

“no! fuck no!—only you, always you.” ellies cry of denial fizzes into a sob. you began to pepper kisses all over her; her tear-stained cheeks, lips, jaw, neck, and down below. easying her.

“this sweet wet pussy—who does it belong too, hm?” your smile was so sweet and mean against the rhythm of her broken and sloppy kisses had her brain short circuiting. your eyes never left hers as you continued to smoke your joint down to a roach.

“you baby, i swear—pussy s’all yourss.” her fucked out state couldn’t stop her from slurring out. you watch the way her wrists squirmed together and shook while enclosed within your belt as her perky titties mushes together. you just gave her another teasing smile.

you took your ring and middle finger, lathering it in her leaking creamy juices as you fingers massaged her sensitive, erupting the most shallow moans from the auburn beauty. the way her cunt glistened while covered in her own cum had you salivating, observing the way her cunt basically sobbed for something while spasming around nothing.

your joint was nothing but a conetip, completely disregarding it as you flicked it with your finger before replacing hands, now using your dominant hand to hold the vibrator.

“couldn’t quite hear’ya, pretty girl.” you plunge your two fingers into her desperate hole, fucking your fingers in and out as you kept the slim bullet vibrator on her clit. the sensation of the high vibrations sending her body through carnal shockwaves as her belted wrists reach out to try to hold onto you.

“you, you, only you—fuck!”

“say you won’t smoke with her ever again—or you won’t come.”

“i-i won’t smoke—fuck me! i wont smoke with ha-her ever again.” the tiltalting wave of overwhelming pleasure as her body thrilled itself towards her fourth orgasm.

“say her name.”

“please! mm’soo close!” she begged, legs intensely twining together tightly closing around the bullet vibrations, clutching the vibrator onto her pussy for her dear life.

“say her fucking name!” you couldn’t help but yell as you felt jealousy swallowing your insides.

“gah! fuck me!—i wont ever smoke with dina again, i promise—m’yours! im cumming, fuck m’cumming!” ellie finally rides through her orgasm. you turned off the vibrator as soon you felt her cunt clenching sex mush around your soaked fingers.

you let out a happy hum as you brought your fingers to suck off clean, savoring the fruity salty she tasted like. you then were quick to unbuckle the belt from around her wrists, massaging them as you brought them to wrap around your neck as you pulled her into you.

“no more unwanted smoke sessions.”

dolls-taglist: ̗̀➛ @marsworlddd @cosmopolitanaut @elliewilliamsgirl3 @elliewilliamgfooc @graviewaviee @yourelliewillms @gato-chino @elliesgf1244 @deliriousrn @yondaimekazzy @moonyvs4 @tearouthearts @ride4els @colecassidysfav @theoraekenslover @localorphanage @elsgirll @starmoon333 @elliesgf4444

to join my taglist click here !

a/n: i love when my weed makes me cook sum up 4 all yall beautiful people !! hoping this will make yall happy till ts weekend, uploading chap. 4 of GATÚBELA ! love you all and thank u for the patience :3

ALSO IF MY GIRL EVER SMOKE W ANOTHER BITCH THATS A BODY IDGAF???? OSRS😭😭

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littlemisslexapro55555 · 1 month

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i am gobbling this down like a woman starved holy shit

Can’t Get Off Without You // Abby Anderson*

request: none!

prompts: none!

summary: after a long hard day of patrol, you just want to cuddle with your girlfriend. but after walking in on abby touching herself, your plans suddenly change.

warnings: smut, masturbation, oral (a. receiving), fingering (a. receiving), dom!reader, sub!abby, clit slapping, overstimulation, mean!reader, language, reader calls abby good girl

word count: 1.3k

a/n: gn!reader

join my taglist!

You were exhausted. After a long day on patrol, you were relieved to finally be home, only wanting to spend the rest of the night curled up in your girlfriend’s arms as all your stress from the day melted away. But once you got inside, your face fell when your eyes met the empty couch, where Abby always sat waiting, ready to greet you after your long day. It had become almost routine at this point, and you couldn’t help the disappointment that welled up inside of you.

Sighing, you walked over to the couch and plopped down, shrugging off your coat and tugging your boots off. You sat there for a moment, almost hoping she would walk down the stairs to greet you after having heard the door shut. But still, there was nothing. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was up, the stark change to your unspoken routine too jarring to come to terms with.

With a slight groan, you pushed yourself off of the couch, trudging over to the staircase and practically dragging yourself up the stairs, exhaustion plaguing your form. But as you neared your bedroom, you stopped in your tracks. Soft moans were coming from the other side of the door, sounds you knew belonged to your girlfriend.

Your first thought was that she was cheating on you, the absurdity of the idea forcing it out of your head almost as quickly as it had arrived. There was no way Abby would cheat on you, you knew she was better than that. Which plagued the question: what was she doing?

Your curiosity got the best of you, forcing yourself to the door, Abby’s moans growing louder the closer you got. Pressing your ear to the door, you could hear the unmistakable sounds of her squelching pussy. Fuck, she sounded soaked. Your mouth watered at the thought. Unable to wait any longer, you pushed the door open quietly, hoping to remain undetected.

And there she was, splayed out on your shared bed, her fingers ruthlessly pounding into her tight cunt. God, what a sight she was. Her braid in disarray, strands of hair stuck to her forehead due to the light sheen of sweat covering her body. She looked straight out of a wet dream, and you couldn’t help but want to-

You were pulled out of your fantasies by Abby huffing in frustration, pulling her fingers out of her pussy and slumping against the mattress. You couldn’t help the soft pang of pity you felt when looking at her. Poor baby couldn’t get herself off. Looks like you were gonna have to step in and help her.

Creeping over as silently as you could, you climbed onto the bed and lied down between her legs, miraculously remaining undetected, Abby being too distracted by her frustration. Grinning to yourself, you leaned forward and wrapped your lips around her clit, suckling it into your mouth and flicking your tongue over the sensitive bud.

Abby’s back arched at the sudden feeling, the sudden stimulation startling her and setting her nerves alight. A strangled moan fell from her lips and her hips bucked into your face. Pulling back to look at her, you couldn’t help but laugh under your breath at how utterly desperate she looked for you.

“You know you’re not supposed to touch yourself without permission, baby,” you said, dragging your nails down her thighs, Abby twitching at the feeling.

“I- I’m sorry, I-”

“But from the looks of it, you couldn’t even get yourself off anyways,” you taunted, not letting her finish her pathetic excuse for an apology.

“Please,” she whimpered, her eyes watering with desperation as she wordlessly pleaded with you.

“Poor baby. Just so needy. Can’t even get off without me, can you?”

Abby shook her head, her hands fisting the sheets tightly as she resisted the urge to touch you, not wanting herself to get into even more trouble. “No…” she whispered, her cheeks flushing red with embarrassment.

You smiled condescendingly as your fingers traced aimlessly on her thighs, only succeeding in getting her even more worked up. “Guess I should help you with that, huh?”

Abby nodded eagerly, her knuckles turning white from how hard she was gripping the sheets. “Please…”

Not even bothering to reply, you leaned back down, your head disappearing between her thighs once more. Just feeling your soft breath against her soaked folds made her back arch and her hips rut forward, her pure desperation and need for release taking control of her movements.

You slowly trailed kisses up her inner thigh, purposely ignoring her aching cunt to repeat the action on the other side. Abby whimpered softly, fighting the urge to grab your hair and shove your face in her pussy. She wanted to be good for you, but sometimes, you just made it so hard.

“Fuck… need you. Please…” Abby begged, her voice quivering in need.

“Poor baby… what do you need, hmm?” you asked, a teasing lilt in your voice as you smirked at her.

Abby blushed harder, not being able to say it. Despite how confident and strong she usually was, when it came to you she was just so incredibly shy. It was adorable, and you couldn’t help but fluster her at every available chance, loving the way her face turned red and she struggled to speak.

“I- I need you to eat my pussy,” Abby forced out, her eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment from having said something so vulgar aloud.

“Good girl. Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Before giving her a chance to respond, you finally gave her what she wanted, dragging your tongue through her sopping folds and groaning at the taste that was so distinctly her. Abby whined at the feeling, her hand reaching down to grip your hair tightly, unable to restrain herself any longer.

“F-fuck… that’s it. Holy shit… so fucking good…”

You let her hand guide your movements, too lost in the feeling to care about her breaking the rules. It just felt so good when she used your face to pleasure herself, her hips messily humping your tongue.

You flicked your tongue over her clit, Abby’s movements faltering at the sudden feeling, giving you the time to wrap your lips around her clit, suckling it into your mouth and trailing your tongue around the sensitive bud in the way you knew drove her crazy.

“Fuck… I- fuck, I’m cumming… fuck,” Abby mumbled, her words slurring together as she reached her high.

Her pathetic whines and whimpers only spurred you on, making you speed up your tongue on her clit and slip two fingers into her aching hole. You wanted nothing more than to make her fall apart on your tongue. You needed to make her feel good more than you needed air to breathe.

You moaned into her cunt as she finally let go, her cum coating your fingers and your chin. You could never get enough of her, and you definitely weren’t finished with her yet.

“Fuck- it’s too much. Please…” Abby whined, trying to pull you away from her sensitive pussy.

You pulled off of her clit and licked your lips clean as you smirked at her, your fingers still relentlessly pumping in and out of her soaked core.

“You can take it baby. You were just so desperate to get off earlier, I’m only giving you what you wanted. You can give me one more, can’t you?”

Abby nodded hesitantly, the overstimulation burning in the most delicious way. You pulled your fingers out of her pussy and delivered a swift slap to her clit, causing Abby to let out the most pathetic whine as she leaned into the touch.

“Words, baby.”

“Y-yes. I can give you another one.”

“Good girl.”

You smiled wickedly and lowered yourself back down, your tongue darting out to lap at her clit. There was no way you were gonna stop at just one more. You wanted to ruin her, watch her come undone on your tongue and fingers over and over again. And that’s exactly what you were gonna do.

tags: @velvet-sugarcookie @fictionalgap @ihyperfixatetoomuch @marsworlddd

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littlemisslexapro55555 · 1 month

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wowza

⚠️Warning!⚠️: This story contains smut!

(not proofread! Also…….I wrote this at like 3 am, so keep that in mind)

_____________________________________________________________

Your arm was starting to get sore, but it didn't matter. You continued to jam your three fingers into her moist cunt. Ellie gripped the sides on the bench you had haphazardly placed her on. Conveniently placed in a corner of a rarely used hall in your school. Especially this early in the morning. You gave Ellie’s neck a few quick pecks before sucking on her weak spot. You wouldn’t have been so pissed at your English teacher for telling you to hand in your book at 7 am, aka an hour before your first class, if you knew it would lead to this. Ellie Williams, the most attractive loser in school, being spread out just for you.

"Shush, shush. You need to stay quiet, Ellie" you whispered. She nodded her head as she continued to keep down her whines. The laces of her dirty converse swing as you continue to slam into her pretty pussy, nudging the bundled up fabric around her knees. Her twisted face was a sigh you tried to keep in your memory, for some lonely night when your parents weren't home.

As you continue to slide your fingers into her needy hole you used her other hand to pull back her t-shirt that’s fallen over due to her constant moving, showing off her pretty little tits. “Prettiest fucking tits I’ve ever seen” you mumble as you watched them slightly bounce as you spread up your pace. You used your hips to thrust your fingers deeper into her poor pussy, not caring that her access juice smeared onto the front of your jeans, creating strings whenever you pulled back your hips to soon after slam them back into her.

The table slightly banged into the wall behind Ellie with every thrust. You’d start to worry about someone hearing if it wasn’t for your pussydrunk state. The warm feeling of Ellie’s wall’s squeezing you in made you obsessed, desperate to observe every single thing. Ellie clawed at the old wood rim around the table as she bit those pretty lips of hers. You knew it was to prevent herself from being so loud, but you kinda wanted to tell her to just go wild and allow her to let out all those pretty little sounds. But you knew you two would get in big trouble if anyone saw you, so you had to push your horny thoughts aside and be happy with the muffled whines you got.

As you started to rub your thumb on her clit she couldn't help but let out a groan. You winced at the contrast of the dead silent hall before putting your head near her ear. "I told you to be quiet!" you whisper-yelled, trying to conceal the true effect her sounds had on you. "I know. I-I´m trying" she pathetically whined out. You couldn't help but giggle at her cute attempt to keep it together. She couldn't fool a soul.

You jammed in your fingers all the way into her before curving and continuously message her g-spot. Using your hips to press down onto the back of your hand, making sure to reach the deepest point. Quickly pressing your lips against hers to quiet her down. A smirk sneaked into the kiss as the expected moan leaves Ellie's throat, luckily muffled. You could feel Ellie grinning herself against your hand, desperate to feel more of you.

She wrapped her arms around you, pulling you closer to her as her walls tightens around your fingers. You stumble over to her, putting your non-busy hand behind her, to not crash onto her. She break away from the kiss and buries her face into the crock of your neck. Bitting into the collar of your sweatshirt to cover her moans. Still the mumbled sound would be enough to make you cum. You continue to abuse her pussy, secretly “hopping” she’d accidentally let out a sound she shouldn’t. But being the good girl she is Ellie didn’t let out another unmuffled sound, scared it’d make you stop. And oh, she really didn’t want you to stop. Her heavy breathing warms up your neck as you continue to milk her of her orgasm. The cum starting to run down your wrist.

Ellie´s juice leaked down, past her asscrack to create a pool on the bench.

You helped Ellie off the bench and pulled up her panties and jeans, making sure she looked put together before leaving. You whipped off your fingers on your jeans as you made your way to your classroom. Letting Ellie´s cum soak into the fabric. This will be a good day.

_____________________________________________________________

Author´s Note: I've had this idea in my mind for a while, but never planned to write it down. But then I was like "fuck it!" and decided to write something shorter with less background. This was just a quickly little blur, trying out something new. Hope you liked it, even though it sucks donkey dick!

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littlemisslexapro55555 · 1 month

Note

sub daddy!abby fic where the reader’s calling her daddy in like,,,, a mean way if that makes any sense :3

also can i claim the 🍎 emoji?

sub daddy abby…. i see the vision…

and yes u can !!!!! <333

“does it feel good, daddy? huh?” you tease, a smug grin plastered on your face. your thrusts quicken as abby moans in agreement. “dirty fuckin’ slut. you’re my slut, though, aren’t you, daddy?” you ask, your head tilted a little to patronise her just a little more. she nods and nods, you’re not 100% she’s listening. you land a slap on the inside of her thigh, causing her to gasp, looking up at you. “words,” you order, stopping your movement. “yes- fuck! yes!” she whines, a scream leaving her mouth as you continue to fuck her dumb. “so fucking needy for this cock, right, daddy? you’d do anything for it. pathetic little bitch,” you spit, abby only moaning in response. you roll your eyes, feeling abby tighten around your silicone dick. “daddy’s gonna cum? beg for it. don’t cum until you fuckin’ beg for it,” you smile down at her, your bottom lip between your teeth as you raise your eyebrows down at her, waiting for abby’s sweet words. “please! please let me cum, please!” she cries, sobbing between pathetic moans and whimpers. your thrusts become even more forceful, the slap between yours and her thighs pierce through your ears and you say through your clenched jaw. “fuckin’ whore. cum on this dick, daddy. don’t hide now, cum for me, daddy.”

@queenofmistresses @bambishaven @aouiaa @abigails-gf @dykeanderson @abbysprettygiiirl

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littlemisslexapro55555 · 1 month

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woahhhhhhh

Why’d they cut me out of the frame?

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littlemisslexapro55555 · 1 month

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she’s the babygirlest of babygirls cmon now!

you said that SHE killed people?????? .... this bitch? .... HER?!

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littlemisslexapro55555 · 1 month

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this is my part nobody else speak.

#guysshutthefuckup #thisismyromanempire #likeactually #gonnaburstintotearsicant

hiii would u write something sweet about reader having self harm scars on her arms and thighs and being ashamed of them, but abby comforts her by showing that she has scars too? though abby’s scars are not from sh, they’re from fighting but abby tells reader that she’s a fighter too and made it out in the end <3

abby anderson x f!reader.

warnings: reader has self-h*rm scars.

a/n: hii anon! thank you so much for this request. i don't know if you've seen, but i have some more stories of abby and her partner with sh scars, you can find it on my masterlist! i hope you're okay. and what abby says here is what i wished all of us, who (used to) cope with self-harm could hear. sending you all so much love. 🫶🏻🫂

you and abby are in your shared room. she just got out of the shower, wearing a pair of boxers and a tank top, her blonde hair falling on her shoulders. she sits on the edge of the old mattress. "what?" she asks, noticing the way you stare at her. "nothing. hey, are those new?" you point to some scratches on her arms and one under her chin. "mhm. ran into some seraphites today. but it's alright."

you reach for the healing cream in your backpack and open the lid, putting some in your hands. "mel gave this to me." you say, holding abby's arm. abby hisses as the cold cream touches her skin. you rub it over her freckled forearm, being gentle when touching her scars. she kisses your head. "thank you, baby." you look at her and hold her chin, kissing her pouty lips before rubbing the cream over her chin scar. "does it hurt?" she shakes her head. she takes your hands in hers and looks into your eyes. she kisses you softly. "give me the cream, baby. s'my turn to care for you."

you give her the cream. "what for?" abby nods towards your arms as she puts a little cream into her big palm. "roll up your sleeves for me." you do as she asks, putting your hand over your other arm to hide the scars. abby tries to take your hand off your arm. "baby, need to take care of your scars." you shake your head. "no, i don't want you to see."

"i've seen them before, sweet girl. no need to hide." she speaks softly. you let your hand fall on your lap as abby takes your hand in hers, applying the cream on your scars. you look away. "what is it, mmh? talk to me."

"it's just – it's stupid. my scars are stupid." abby tuts. "don't say that, baby." she caresses your skin, tracing over your scars with her fingertips. "but they are. yours are because of combat, you didn't choose to get them." abby sighs and looks at you. "baby." she says sternly. "you didn't choose to get your scars either. you didn't choose for your mind to be so – so mean to you." you're on the verge of tears. she continues to rub your arm. "lay down for me, sweetheart."

you lay down on the bed, looking at abby as she takes off your pyjama pants. she looks at your thighs and back up at you. she presses on the tube of gel, the lotion falling on your skin. her big hands start to knead your thigh. "in a way, you're a fighter too, baby." she says softly. "it's not easy, surviving in this world. now add all the horrible things your mind inflicts on you, the pressure you put on yourself..." she kisses one of your scars and looks up at you. "you're a fighter, baby. the strongest woman i know." she kisses your scars, without breaking eye contact. "i love you. love you so much. how you got your scars doesn't invalid your suffering, baby. okay?" she caresses your thigh. you smile at her, tears now rolling down your cheeks. abby gets up from between your legs and hugs you. "my baby." her scent comforts you, you hold her tightly against you. "you're strong, sweetheart. okay? you're a fighter. and i'm so proud of you for fighting against all the bad thoughts you get, all the urges you have." she cups your face, wiping your tears with her thumb. "i'm so proud of you, my sweet girl. you're here, with me. you make this world more bearable, make living easier for me. you're here. despite all the horrible things you've been through, you're still here with me, baby." you sob, putting your hands above hers.

she kisses you softly, tasting your salty tears against her lips. you sniffle and look at her. "thank you for being here, abby. i wouldn't be here today without you." you kiss her once more, feeling her smile against your lips. "it's all you, baby. you're here, alive, because of you, because of how strong and resilient you are. i'm just here to support you, just a shoulder you can cry on. it's all you." she kisses your forehead.

"i love you, sweet girl, my little soldier." she kisses your cheeks. "i love you more, abs."

taglist: @abbysprettygiiirl @bambishaven @bunniehrtz @cowboylikeabi @dykeanderson

@lesbian-useless

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littlemisslexapro55555 · 1 month

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if yall haven’t binge read this yet get on this shit

Chapter Four

AO3 Link | Chapter 3 Link

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

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You watched from the wide window in the second room as Abby walked away and headed towards the coast, your fingers lifting the blinds just enough for you to peek out.

Yara was already drifting off to sleep on the couch behind you. Even Lev was starting to succumb to his exhaustion, his head leaned on the couch’s arm, his eyes blinking slowly.

Quietly, you instructed them both to get some rest, promising to keep watch. Yara mumbled a Yes, Prophet and pulled her legs up just enough for her brother to have room at the other end. He moved from where he knelt on the floor by her head to curl up by her feet, finally allowing himself to close his eyes.

You couldn’t imagine that they had been able to get much rest in their last few days on the run. But you were here now. You would keep them safe.

You turned your eyes back to the window, to the Wolf, expecting to find her out of your line of sight by now. Instead, you found her standing still, just far enough away for you to be unable to read her expression.

She stood there in the rain for several moments, swaying on her feet, looking back and forth between the coast and the building like she was trying to make a decision.

Stupidly, you wished again that she would stay.

As if she had heard your thoughts, Abby turned and started walking back in your direction, her mind made up.

You smiled and ran to meet her, carefully shutting the door that separated the two rooms as you went, leaving Yara and Lev to sleep undisturbed.

When Abby was once again outside the door, you swung it open, watching her blink at you incredulously with her fist raised, ready to knock.

“Wolf,” you said, trying to hide your pleased smile.

“Prophet.” She let her hand fall.

You stepped aside to let her in.

She brushed past you.

Again, you closed and locked the door, leaning back against it with your hands behind you.

This first room didn’t have furniture. At least not anything to sit on. Abby dropped her bag and sat on the floor across from you, leaning back against the wall with her forearms resting on her drawn-up knees.

You wanted to question her decision to come back, hoping she might give you some insight into why there seemed to be this pull between you two.

You had always longed for connection, feeling so thoroughly set apart from your people that you might as well have been completely alone. They revered you—worshipped you—but they didn’t love you. Not in a way that you truly felt.

You were nothing more than a symbol. An object to worship. No different than an intricately painted mural on a wall. A counterfeit version of the Prophet they once had.

So you didn’t have people who loved you. Who saw you.

That was what you wanted more than anything.

And here was this Wolf, who had fought alongside you and spoken to you like you were a real person. She smiled at you and called you a “good girl”, making you feel what felt like the most tempting sin. And she called you Prophet like it was a joke between the two of you.

You hadn’t wanted her to leave, and here she was. Not leaving.

Maybe this wasn’t one-sided. Maybe it wasn’t all in your head. The fact that she came back was proof that she felt it too.

You studied her face, as if that would reveal something to you.

It didn’t.

You broke the silence. “I’m not actually a prophet, you know.”

This clearly wasn’t what she expected you to say. She probably thought you would ask her why she came back. But you figured her honest answer would be similar to yours: She just felt like she had to, and she didn’t know why.

Abby seemed grateful to bypass the interrogation, so she scoffed, feigning shock. “You mean to tell me you’re not a wise, all-knowing seer of the future, cosmically and singularly chosen to lead the righteous few?”

Your smile returned as you shook your head.

“So how’d you end up with the title?” she asked, genuinely curious.

You had spent a lot of time thinking about this over the years. You decided to give her the simplest answer.

“Honestly, I think I was just the first child who turned twelve after the Elders decided that they wanted a new prophet.”

“Why would that matter?” she asked. When she saw your confused look, she added, “That you were twelve?”

“That’s when we get the…” You gestured to your face, drawing lines on either side of your mouth to indicate the scarring.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

She let her legs straighten in front of her, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning her head back against the wall. Her eyes stayed on you, watching you carefully. “Well, at least you got to bypass that fun little rite of passage.”

“I have marks like any other Seraphite,” you said. “I just carry them differently.”

Abby looked curious, like she wanted to ask you to go on. Instead, you pushed off from where you leaned against the door and began unfastening the long cloak that you still wore, glancing up briefly to see the Wolf’s eyes widen and her cheeks flush ever so slightly as she leaned forward to watch you.

It did feel scandalous. Removing the cloak in front of her. Even though you were clothed underneath.

Slowly stripping a layer away with her eyes on you, transfixed. Enamored. Like you were something beautiful—maybe even desirable.

It felt good in a way that you had been taught was bad.

You hoped that, as time and distance came between you and Haven, the Elders’ voices would fade away in your mind. Their rules and demands had always been a suffocating weight on you. But maybe now it was your choice. You got to decide what was true and how to live.

You promised yourself you’d revisit that line of thinking later.

Beneath the cloak, you wore what you always did. A long, simple white dress. The fabric was soft and light. Thin, although not sheer. The sleeves were short, leaving your arms mostly bare, and the whole thing ended just above your ankles. It flowed enough for you to move without any difficulty, but it was properly fitted to your exact measurements at the top.

At Sanctuary, your servants had always been responsible for your dresses, making new ones as your body changed, growing taller and filling out. You hadn’t initially been comfortable in dresses, never having worn them as a child, but after eight years of it being the only option offered to you, you’d grown accustomed to it. Comfortable, even.

Now, you felt naked in it.

The cloak had protected the dress from most of the mud, blood, guts of the day, but it hadn’t totally shielded it against the rain.

The fabric was damp against your skin, clinging more than it usually would.

You kept going, remembering why you had removed your cloak in the first place.

Holding the cloak by the collar in your right hand, you lifted your left arm to show the Wolf the scars that covered the back of your forearm.

Her eyes were focused elsewhere, slowly wandering down your body. Skirting along every line and following every curve, she took her time taking you in. You couldn’t describe the look on her face if you tried.

You shivered, and that movement finally brought her attention back up to your eyes. And then lower, to the arm you had been trying to show her.

Abby seemed to come back to herself, remembering what you had been talking about and why you took off your top layer.

She stared at the marks, quiet. You transferred your cloak to your left hand, lifting the right arm to show the matching scars there.

Neither of you said anything for several moments.

“I’m sure that wasn’t it,” she said, meeting your eyes again. You let your arm fall.

“Hmm?”

“I mean, I’m sure your Elders chose you for a reason. A bigger reason than just when your birthday happened to land.”

You thought for a moment about your other theories. The fact that your father had been a loyal soldier who died protecting the first Prophet. The fact that you were an only child, and with your father dead, you had no family other than your mother, who had always been the most devout follower. The fact that, when you were a child, your teachers said you were the perfect student. Quiet and obedient. They said you would make a wonderful wife someday. Something that left you feeling strangely uncomfortable, but your mother had taken great pride in. She used to talk about her hope that you would be chosen to marry one of the Elders themselves.

Maybe the same things that would’ve made you a good wife also made you a good Prophet. At least as far as what the Elders wanted from a Prophet. They never really wanted you to lead. Just for you to become the face of their initiatives. A mouthpiece. Maybe even a scapegoat.

You decided not to tell Abby any of this, already feeling that she knew so much about you while you knew absolutely nothing about her.

You almost pointed this out when she spoke again.

“You can sit, you know. You should sit. I’m sure you’re tired.”

You weren’t supposed to sit on the ground. Or kneel. For anyone or any reason. Although, you’d already broken that rule a few times tonight. You’d knelt to cut Abby loose from the ropes earlier, and again when she had been setting Yara’s arm.

It was a stupid rule anyway, you decided. And what was it you were thinking about earlier? About making your own decisions about what is good and true from now on?

The floor was dirty though. And your dress was white.

You stepped away from the door, closer to Abby, and spread your cloak out on the floor, sitting on top of it.

Abby scoffed. “Princess.”

You tilted your head, confused, not offended.

“You don’t know what a princess is?” she asked in slight disbelief.

“It’s a word that was used to describe the daughter of an Old World monarch. Or I suppose the wife of a prince, which would’ve been the son of a monarch,” you said matter-of-factly. “I just don’t understand what that has to do with me.”

“I—” Abby started and then stopped. “Never mind.”

You narrowed your eyes, unsatisfied with her lack of an explanation, and decided to ask the much harder question after all.

“Why did you come back?”

“Huh?” she asked, suddenly nervous.

“Why’d you turn around?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No, I mean—” She sighed, avoiding eye contact. “You guys will die without me—without my help.”

You didn’t like that answer.

“You think we can’t take care of ourselves? That we need a Wolf to protect us?”

“Honestly? Yeah.”

“Wha—”

She cut you off. “You’ve never left that island, I’m assuming, until today. You’re a capable fighter, but you don’t know anything about this world—”

“I—”

“You can argue with me if you want, but you know I’m right. And the girl is badly injured. Setting the bone won’t be enough. She needs much more medical attention if she’s going to make it. And the kid is… a kid.” Her eyes meet yours again, determined. Insistent. “So yeah, I think you could use my help. And you would be smart to accept it.”

Abby was right. You knew she was.

You wanted to ask why she cared though. But you didn’t bother, knowing she wouldn’t have much of an answer. Instead, you relented, leaning back on your hands behind you, arms straightened.

“So what’s the plan?” you asked.

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Abby breathed out, relieved that you weren’t fighting her.

“Right now, to stay here and rest.”

You nodded your head towards the door between the two rooms. “Yara and Lev are already sleeping.”

“Good. You should join them.”

You smiled a little, making Abby’s heart beat faster. “So I should just go to sleep and trust the Wolf who came into my life under mysterious circumstances?”

She let out a short laugh, dumbfounded. “I came into your life under mysterious circumstances?! You attacked me, knocked me out cold, and hung me up by my neck.”

When you laughed softly and leaned closer, her heart raced.

“Technically, I didn’t do any of those things,” you pointed out.

“No. You just tried to kill me afterwards.”

“I apologized for that.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I asked you if you were okay.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“You’re right,” you said, gazing into her eyes. “I’m sorry.” She could tell that you were being sincere.

She cleared her throat, looking away. “Go to sleep.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” you said, smiling again, arguing just for the sake of it. “Maybe you should get some sleep and I’ll stay up.”

Abby let out an exasperated breath.

She couldn’t help but look at you, sitting on the floor with her in an old trailer like you weren’t the most ethereal thing she’d ever seen. In that dress that looked incredible on you.

It made her wonder what you would look like without it.

She wanted to reach out and touch you. To let her hands lazily travel the same path that her eyes had taken when you first took off that cloak. She wanted to hear the sounds you would make as her fingers grazed your bare skin.

She wanted you.

Her own thoughts surprised her.

Abby hadn’t spent much time thinking about what—or who—she was into in the past. Being with Owen had made sense. He was nice and funny. He made her laugh. He liked her. And her dad loved him. They were young.

But when he kissed her, she’d get this unsettling, jittery, nervous feeling. One that she could never tell if she liked or not. But she always heard people talking about having butterflies in their stomach, so Abby thought maybe that was normal. Still, she was always the first to pull away, always retreating from his touch when things got too… overwhelming.

When her dad died, she didn’t let anyone touch her for the longest time. Owen stuck around, though. He kept trying. They joined the Washington Liberation Front, and Abby felt like that gave her a purpose. She had training to stick to and orders to follow while she continued to listen for word about Joel Miller, any hint about where he could be.

She kept pushing Owen away until, eventually, he let go. Abby could remember the moment she realized it was over, although neither of them came out and said it. It affected her more than she thought it would. She was devastated. Almost like she was losing another part of her dad. Like she was watching every piece of her life crumble and fade away until she was left with something completely unrecognizable.

Then Owen and Mel got together, and things got even weirder. Mel, who had once been one of Abby’s closest friends, started treating her like an enemy. Always looking at her with distrust, pulling Owen away when he tried to talk to her.

It got worse after Jackson. Abby didn’t know if that was because of what happened there or because Mel was pregnant. Probably both.

Abby kept her head down. Threw herself back into the flow of things in Seattle. She focused on making her body strong, following orders, and killing Scars whenever she got the chance.

And sure, sometimes someone caught her eye. Maybe a character in a movie she’d watched with Manny, or someone she’d crossed paths with in the WLF compound. Now that she thought about it, those people were almost always women.

She found those thoughts easy to ignore, so nothing ever came of them. Abby didn’t think she was well-suited for a romantic partnership, after what she did to Owen. She was sure didn’t deserve it. So she always brushed those feelings off and kept moving forward. She had work to do. A city to fight for.

She had known you for just one night and everything was changing. She could feel it happening. Her life was never going to be the same.

She wanted to be good enough for it. She wanted to deserve this change.

So she was going to protect you and your friends. Because it was the right thing to do, and because she really wanted to.

And if that meant she got to keep you close, she wouldn’t complain.

Abby couldn’t fucking believe that she was into a Scar.

But she couldn’t stop looking at you. Your eyes. Your lips. Your body. It was like every piece of you had been hand-crafted for the purpose of driving her crazy. She couldn’t walk away if she tried.

Hell, she did try and she didn’t even make it down the street.

All of this, and you hadn’t even touched her yet. Maybe you never would.

And she didn’t even know your real name.

But it was becoming more and more clear to her that you were a really good person.

Abby wasn’t sure if she was a good person, but she wanted to be. If she hadn’t been before, she could start now.

The door between the rooms creaked open, and Lev’s head poked out. When he saw her sitting there with you, he froze, his eyes narrowing disapprovingly.

“What’s she doing here?” he asked, his eyes remaining on her while he spoke to you.

“She’s going to help us,” you said.

“We don’t need—”

“Yes. We do,” you said firmly.

He let it go, turning to face you. He looked worried, saying nothing.

“Is it Yara? How’s she doing?” you asked, already moving to stand.

Lev just looked down and shook his head. He stepped aside, opening the door further as you rushed into the room to check on her with Abby following close behind.

Yara was on the couch, curled into the fetal position. She was shaking, breathing heavily and unevenly.

Abby watched as you rushed over to the girl, putting your hand to her forehead to check for a fever. The look on your face alone told her it wasn’t good.

Your eyes found her, fearful and unsure of what to do.

She moved in closer, crouching down to be on Yara’s level. “I’m going to move your arm,” she said to the girl. Yara whimpered as Abby carefully adjusted her. “Lean into me.”

Abby picked her up.

“Where are you taking her?” Lev asked, stepping forward.

“C’mon.” She tried to walk past him, heading for the door. He stepped in front of her.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m giving her a chance,” Abby insisted, giving him a look that seemed to convince him to move aside and go along with it.

Lev grabbed his bow and quiver. You quickly put on your cloak, grabbed your own weapon, and threw Abby’s backpack over your shoulders.

You followed her back out into the rain.

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Note: I had a really good time writing this chapter! I loved that it was mostly just Abby and reader talking and getting to know each other :)

P.S. If you're someone who's been leaving comments on AO3, please know that I love you <3

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