Abby Anderson X Y/n - Blog Posts

Pls my wife may we get some desperate lesbian content about friend (wife) reader ignoring abby after what she did to joel because she was scared, so abby just gets all teary eyed and just starts to try to please her sexually

What We Bury in Silence - abby anderson x reader

pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

requests are open again! send me your silly thoughts:)

warnings: MDNI 18+ Explicit sexual content (fingering r receiving), themes of trauma and grief, emotional and psychological tension, references to violence and loss (Joel’s death), guilt, anger, and forgiveness struggles, raw emotional vulnerability and confession

summary: You and Abby were close—more than friends, though no one dared to say it aloud. But after Joel's death, you went quiet. Abby thought you'd never forgive her. That silence breaks one night when guilt, rage, and buried desire finally ignite.

masterlist

This story contains sexual content—please read with care. You are responsible for what you consume online.

You hadn’t said a word to her in weeks. Not since Jackson. Not since the blood. Not since you found out what she did.

Abby thought she'd be ready for the aftermath—Joel’s face haunting her dreams, her name spat like venom in town. But your silence? That hit deeper than any wound she’d ever taken.

You avoided her at base. Eyes down. Steps sharp. Not a glance. Not even hatred—just absence. It made her sick.

She knocked tonight anyway.

“Just talk to me,” Abby said through your door, voice low and wrecked. “Please.”

Nothing.

Abby stood there for minutes. She turned to leave—then froze when the door clicked open behind her.

Your eyes met. And it was like the air shattered. You were still wearing his jacket.

“Why are you here?” you asked, voice even but barely holding together.

Abby swallowed hard. “I didn’t come for a fight. I just…” Her voice cracked. “I miss you.”

You didn’t speak. Just stepped aside. Let her in like a storm you were too tired to fight.

She lingered by the table, arms stiff by her sides. “You won’t look at me,” she said. “You won’t yell. Won’t curse me out. Just… nothing.”

You sat on the couch. “What do you want from me, Abby?”

The name was a blade on your tongue.

She moved closer—slow, uncertain. “I want to explain.”

You let her. And she told you everything. Her dad. The Fireflies. Joel’s choice. Her own rage. When she finished, the silence was worse than before.

You stood. Crossed the room. She flinched when your hand brushed her cheek.

“I hate what you did,” you whispered. “I hate that I still want you.”

And something in her shattered.

The first kiss was desperate—salted with tears, teeth, regret. You shoved her back against the wall, hands tangling in her hair, lips fierce and unforgiving.

Abby groaned, fingers digging into your waist like she was scared you’d disappear. You bit her lip hard. She moaned.

“This doesn’t fix anything,” you hissed.

“I know,” she breathed, eyes dark. “But let me try anyway.”

You didn’t stop her when she sank to her knees. She tugged your pants down slowly, reverently, like she was asking for permission with every touch.

“I’m sorry,” she said against your inner thigh. “I’d take it back if I could. I’d undo all of it.”

You didn’t answer, but you didn’t push her away either. Her mouth was soft. Skilled. Every flick of her tongue was a plea for forgiveness.

You gasped, fisting her hair, thighs trembling.

“Fuck—Abby—”

She moaned at the sound of her name. You could feel her trembling too. She didn’t stop until you were wrecked—legs shaking, breath gone, body arched against the guilt and the heat between you.

And when you pulled her up and kissed her again, she cried into your mouth. You dragged her to bed. Tore her clothes off. Took your time making her fall apart—over and over again.

The air was thick with sweat, shame, and the unspoken truth that this might never be enough.

But it was something. It was real.

You woke tangled in her arms, her face buried in your neck like she couldn’t bear to let you go. You watched the sunrise in silence.

Then finally, softly: “I still don’t forgive you.”

Abby nodded against your skin. “I know.”

You turned to face her, touched her jaw.

“But I think I want to try.”

Nora told you exactly what she did. The brutality. The violence. You were disgusted despite knowing why she did it.

You don’t want to let her in. Not really. But the moment the door clicks shut behind you, every sharp edge of your silence softens—just a little.

She stands there, all tension and regret, like she’s trying to hold herself together for both of you. Maybe she’s the only one doing any holding right now.

“I didn’t come to make it worse,” Abby says, voice low, raw. “I just need you to hear me.”

You look away. “You don’t get to ask that. Not after everything.”

Her eyes flick down. “I know. I’m sorry. More than you can imagine.”

"You killed a girl's father Infront of her. You made her watch"

"He killed my dad"

Something twists inside you. You want to yell, to tell her to leave. But you just swallow and keep looking at the floor.

“I hate what you did,” you finally say, voice steady but cold. “And I hate that I still want you. It makes me sick.”

Abby’s breath catches. She takes a step closer, but you don’t flinch.

“why are you still here?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

She swallows, eyes searching yours like she’s trying to find a place to land. “Because I’m not ready to lose you.”

You don’t move. You don’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing you crack. But inside, the walls are trembling.

“Why should I believe you?” you whisper, voice rough like gravel. “After everything you did, everything you took from her? Violence doesn't solve anything”

She steps closer, and you feel the heat of her breath. “Because I’m drowning in the same guilt. I carry it every second. Joel’s face, your silence... I don’t deserve you.”

You close your eyes for a moment, swallowing the lump in your throat. The truth is, you’ve missed her—the way she looked at you, fierce and broken all at once. But that only makes the ache worse.

“Maybe I want to hate you,” you admit, voice barely audible. “Maybe I want you to hurt like I do.”

Abby’s hands reach out slowly, trembling. “Then let me in. Let me be the reason you don’t have to carry it alone.”

Your heart is pounding, a wild, desperate rhythm that betrays your cold words. You push her hand away, but your body betrays you—your fingers twitch, wanting to touch her.

Her lips brush your neck, soft and tentative, and the ache spirals into something darker, something desperate.

You catch her mouth with yours, rough and urgent, like you’re trying to reclaim the pieces of yourself she holds hostage. Your hands thread through her hair, pulling her closer as your lips clash.

The taste of her—salt and something bittersweet—makes your knees weak. You break the kiss, gasping. “This doesn’t fix anything,” you choke out.

Abby’s voice is a whisper against your skin. “No. But maybe it’s a start.”

Her hands explore, tentative but hungry, trailing under your shirt like she’s memorizing every inch. You let go of some of the bitterness, the anger. Let the heat flood in and drown the cold for just a moment.

And when she sinks to her knees, the guilt and desire twist into a single, fierce need that can’t be denied.

Your breath hitches as she lowers herself, hands trembling but steady, like she’s asking for forgiveness with every touch. You don’t stop her—not because you forgive her yet, but because a part of you aches for this connection, this dangerous comfort.

Her mouth finds your skin, soft and worshipful, tracing a path that burns and soothes at the same time. You close your eyes, biting your lip to hold back a shudder.

“I don’t deserve this,” you whisper, voice rough.

Her hands clutch your hips tighter. “Maybe not. But I need this. Need you.”

You grip the back of her head, pulling her closer, desperate for something real in the chaos of guilt and rage. Her tongue flicks against your skin, and it’s like a spark igniting a wildfire beneath your ribs. You’re trembling, torn between pushing her away and pulling her deeper.

When she finally parts your clothing, her fingers brush over your skin like a promise — fragile but fierce. You gasp, caught between shame and want.

“Please,” she breathes, voice thick with need and regret.

You tremble but don’t say no.

Her mouth moves with reverence, worshipping every inch, every scar, every broken piece. You’re lost in the sensation, in the desperate heat that roars through you.

Your hands clutch her hair, pulling her up into a harsh, ragged kiss.

“I’m scared,” you confess, voice breaking. “Scared that I’ll never be okay. That I’ll never forgive.”

She kisses you harder. “Then I’ll keep fighting. For you. For us.”

The room hums with tension, desire, and the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, you can find a way through the wreckage — together.

Your breath is ragged, heart pounding like it wants to break free from your chest. Every touch from Abby feels like fire and ice all at once—burning away the walls you built, but freezing the parts of you that still ache with pain. You pull back slightly, eyes searching hers, desperate for something to hold onto.

“I’ve been so angry,” you whisper, voice raw and cracked. “Angry at you, at him, at myself. Angry because I thought if I stayed furious, I could protect what’s left of me.”

Her hands tremble as they cup your face. “I never wanted to take that from you. I wanted to be the one you could lean on, even if you didn’t believe it.”

Tears sting your eyes. You don’t wipe them away. Letting them fall feels like admitting you’re human—broken, hurting, but still here.

“I hate what you did,” you confess, voice breaking, “but I hate carrying this anger even more. It’s like poison, and I’m tired of being sick.”

Abby leans in, her lips brushing yours with such gentleness it makes your chest ache. “Then let me help you heal. Let me be the cure, even if it takes forever.”

You close your eyes and let yourself believe it—for just a moment, you let the weight of the past fall away.

When you open them again, you’re quiet but sure.

“I forgive you,” you say, barely above a whisper. “Not because it’s easy. Not because I forget. But because I don’t want this anger to own me anymore.”

Abby’s breath catches. She pulls you close, arms wrapping around you like she’s never letting go.

In that moment, broken and whole all at once, you realize forgiveness isn’t a clean slate. It’s a choice. A hard, painful, beautiful choice to let go and try again.

And you’re ready to take it.

The morning light filters softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room where you lie tangled in Abby’s arms. It’s quiet, but it’s not empty anymore.

You trace lazy circles on her back, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breath. The weight of yesterday’s confessions still lingers, but it’s lighter now—less a burden, more a fragile thread holding you both together.

You don’t pretend the past is gone. You know the scars remain, invisible to others but etched deep inside. But for the first time, those scars don’t feel like walls. They feel like part of the map—proof of how far you’ve come.

Abby shifts, resting her forehead against yours. “Thank you,” she murmurs.

You smile softly, heart swelling with something you thought was lost—hope.

“Thank you for not giving up.”

You don’t know what the future holds. Maybe there will be more pain, more fights, more moments where forgiveness feels impossible.

But right now, wrapped in this fragile peace, you decide it’s enough.

It’s enough to try. To live. To heal.

Together.

Can i ask for both characters (abby and ellie)?

Reader is secretly (not so secret but yea 😭) in love with ellie but ellie and dina happen so reader gets out of jackson and meets abby? And when she comes back to visit jesse (thats our bestie) they all reunite (awkwardly so 😭) and ellie is so jealous and in love, abby is smug and protective and readers like "im glad were all adults who can get along 😃"

Joels alive and well for the sake of the plot 😭

Look at us now - ellie & abby x reader

hi anon!! this is lowkey such a good plot. I had 3 alternative endings lmfao, lmk if you want a different version! I hope you enjoy:)

pairing: abby anderson, ellie williams x fem!reader

requests are open, send me your thoughts and ideas!!

warnings: angst, jealousy, protective behavior

summary: Caught between a turbulent past with Ellie and a slowly blossoming future with Abby, you're forced to confront everything you thought you knew about love, loyalty, and healing.

masterlist

You never meant to leave Jackson like that.

No goodbye to Ellie. Not even Jesse, who deserved better. Just a backpack, shaking hands, and the last whisper of your pride dragging you out through the gate before sunrise.

You told yourself it wasn’t because of Ellie. Not entirely. But the image of her and Dina walking hand in hand, smiling like they didn’t just break you in half—that was hard to forget. You kept quiet. You never told her how you felt. Maybe she knew.

Maybe that made it worse.

Six months later

“Are you gonna keep staring or shoot something?”

The teasing voice cuts through the morning haze. Abby’s standing next to you, crossbow slung lazily over her shoulder, a smug little smile tugging at her mouth.

“Sorry,” you mutter, cheeks warm. “Lost in thought.”

She quirks a brow, walking closer until her shadow falls across your boots. “That mean you were thinking about me?”

You scoff, but your grin gives you away. Abby’s always like this—half flirting, half mocking. You like it more than you should. You like her more than you should. And somewhere along the line, she stopped being a distraction and started being a possibility.

Jackson feels like a lifetime ago.

When Jesse writes to you, everything tilts.

"Come visit. Joel’s throwing a birthday thing. Ellie’ll be there. Dina too. Don’t make it weird, okay? We miss you"

You don’t want to go. But you do.

Abby insists on coming. “For protection,” she says. “What if they throw a pitchfork at you for leaving?”

You laugh. “You just want to meet the ex.”

Abby’s quiet a second too long. “Just want to see where you came from.”

The reunion is exactly as awful as you feared. Jesse hugs you so tight you almost cry. Dina gives you a polite nod. Ellie—Ellie looks like she’s seen a ghost.

“Hey,” you offer, and her name sticks in your throat like a splinter. “You look… good.”

She doesn’t respond right away. Just blinks. Then, “You cut your hair.”

“Yeah.”

Abby lingers by the door, clearly sizing Ellie up. You wave her over, desperate for something familiar.

“Everyone—this is Abby. She’s… she’s important to me.”

Ellie’s face twitches.

“Oh, so that’s what you ran off to find,” she mutters under her breath, loud enough to make Jesse flinch. Dina shoots Ellie a warning look, but Abby’s already smiling, slow and dangerous.

“Nice to meet you,” Abby says, sticking her hand out. “Heard a lot about you.”

Ellie ignores it.

Joel, bless him, barges in then, cheerful and oblivious. “Well, if it ain’t our favorite runaway! C’mere!”

You breathe again. For now.

Dinner is a battlefield. Ellie won’t stop watching you. Her fork scrapes her plate like she’s trying to dig into your thoughts.

“So, Abby,” she says at one point, venom sweet in her voice. “What brings you to Jackson? Other than dragging Y/N back?”

“I didn’t drag her anywhere,” Abby replies coolly. “She wanted something better.”

Your eyes widen. “Abby—”

“No offense,” she adds, not looking sorry at all.

Ellie slams her cup down. “None taken. I mean, it’s not like she left without telling anyone. That would’ve been rude.”

You stare at your lap, throat burning. Abby’s hand slips under the table and finds yours. Gentle. Firm. Protective.

Ellie notices.

“I’m glad we’re all adults who can get along,” you mutter, trying to defuse the tension. “Right?”

Joel raises a glass. “To that.”

But the look in Ellie’s eyes says otherwise.

Later that night

You find Ellie outside, leaning against the porch railing, smoking.

“I didn’t know she was your girlfriend,” she says, not looking at you.

“She’s not. Not officially.”

“But you’re with her.”

You nod. “Yeah.”

She breathes in, hard. “I thought you loved me.”

“I did,” you admit. “Maybe I still do. But you chose Dina.”

“That was complicated.”

“You made it pretty simple when you kissed her in front of me.”

Ellie turns to you finally, something raw in her expression. “I didn’t think you’d leave.”

You smile, bitter. “Then you didn’t know me at all.” You walk away before she can answer.

Abby is waiting for you in Jesse’s spare room.

She doesn’t ask questions. Just pulls you onto the bed, wrapping her arms around you like she knows how heavy everything is.

“I don’t care about her,” you whisper. “Not like that. Not anymore.”

Abby kisses your temple. “I know.”

“But she looked at me like she regretted everything.”

“She’s too late.”

You turn to her, fingers brushing her cheek. “Are you okay with this? With her still… being around?”

Abby shrugs, cocky. “She can look. I’m the one you sleep next to.”

You laugh. For the first time that night, it feels real.

By the time you leave Jackson, the air between you and Ellie is ice-thin and brittle. You hug Jesse, thank Dina for being kind. Joel sends you off with a wave and a warning: “Take care of her, Abby.”

Abby salutes. “Always.”

As you mount your horse, Ellie appears at the gate. She doesn’t speak, just stands there, eyes full of everything unsaid.

You ride past her without stopping. This time, you don’t look back.

That night, in your shared sleeping bag, Abby pulls you close.

“You okay?”

You nod against her chest. “I’m glad we’re all adults who can get along.”

Abby snorts. “Ellie looked like she was gonna explode.”

“She’s jealous.”

“She should be. I would be.”

You glance up at her. “You’re not jealous?”

Abby leans down, lips brushing your forehead. “No need to be. I already won.”

And yeah—she did.

Ellie doesn’t remember how to breathe when she saw you again.

You’re laughing—eyes squinting in the sunlight, hand curled around Abby’s arm, your body tucked close to hers like you belong there.

Like you never belonged to Ellie. But you did. At least… you used to.

It starts with a letter.

"Hey. I know I’m the last person you want to hear from, but I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About you. About us. I was stupid, and if you’d let me talk, I’d really like to see you again"

You don’t respond. But Ellie doesn’t stop.

She sends another. Then another.

The fourth letter includes a drawing—your favorite flower, shaded with ink smudges and tiny words hidden in the petals: I miss you.

Abby finds it first.

“She’s reaching,” she says flatly, handing it to you.

You trace the lines with your thumb, then fold it neatly and throw it into the fire.

Two months later, she shows up. Just shows up in your settlement, boots caked in dust, hair a little longer than before, guitar slung over her back like an apology. You’re standing in the garden when you spot her. For a second, the world tilts.

She looks the same. Sad eyes. Tight mouth. That same goddamn hoodie you used to fall asleep on. Your heart aches—but not for her. For the girl you used to be.

“Hey,” she says, voice hoarse.

“Ellie.” You straighten. “What are you doing here?”

“I… I came to see you.”

Abby steps out from the porch, drying her hands on a rag, eyes narrowing the second she sees Ellie. She doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t need to.

Ellie shifts uncomfortably. “Can we talk?”

You glance at Abby. She raises an eyebrow, like she’s daring you to say yes.

“I’ll give you five minutes,” you tell Ellie. “That’s it.”

She follows you to the creek.

It used to be your spot. You carved your name into a tree nearby—Y/N + ?, like you were waiting for someone to be brave enough to claim it.

Ellie never was. Now it mocks her.

“I was wrong,” she starts. “About everything.”

You don’t speak.

“I thought Dina was what I wanted. But every time I looked at her, all I could think about was you.”

You sigh. “Ellie—”

“I didn’t know how to say it. I thought if I ignored it, it’d go away. But it didn’t. It got worse.”

She moves closer. You take a step back.

“I’m with Abby now,” you say gently. “I’m happy.”

“I can make you happy too.”

“No, Ellie.” You shake your head. “You had your chance.”

Her jaw tenses. “She’s not me.”

“Exactly,” you say. “She shows up. She listens. She didn’t wait until someone else loved me to finally care.”

Ellie flinches like you slapped her. “I never stopped caring.”

“But you stopped trying. And I’m done chasing people who don’t choose me.”

When you leave her at the creek, you feel lighter. You expect her to disappear after that. But she stays.

She helps in the stables. Plays guitar for the kids. Smiles politely when she sees you.

She’s trying. And it hurts to watch.

Abby corners her one evening.

“You think you’re gonna win her back?”

Ellie straightens. “Not trying to start anything.”

“Good. Because you’d lose.”

Ellie scoffs. “You think she really loves you?”

Abby smiles, slow and dangerous. “She wakes up with her hand on my chest. Calls me home in her sleep. You tell me.”

Ellie swallows hard. “If I’d asked her to stay back then…”

“She would’ve,” Abby says. “And you didn’t.”

She walks away, leaving Ellie exactly where she belongs—behind.

You find Ellie packing a few days later.

“You’re leaving?”

She nods, not meeting your eyes. “Figured I wore out my welcome.”

You hesitate. “Ellie—”

“I don’t want you to forgive me,” she says quickly. “I just wanted to be close to you. Even if it was just as a ghost.”

There’s a long silence. Then you say, “You weren’t a ghost. You were a mistake.”

She flinches.

“And I needed that mistake to know what I deserve.”

Ellie nods, lips trembling. “She’s good to you.”

“She’s everything to me.”

That night, you curl into Abby’s arms and whisper, “She’s gone.”

Abby doesn’t say, I told you so.

She just kisses the back of your neck and says, “I’m not going anywhere.”

And that’s all you need to hear.

Abby is so hottttttt

I want to kiss her pretty little face after sex with her and telling her that shes pretty and sweet 🥺 and i want her to make me stay in bed even if we have patrol and being all clingy and cute 🥺

#need her

Stay in bed - abby anderson x reader

hi anon! this deadass made me sigh out of singleness... i hope you enjoy:)

Pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

requests are open again! send me your silly thoughts:)

warnings: none

Summary: in which you stayed in bed

masterlist

The early morning sun filtered through the gaps in the blinds, casting golden stripes across Abby's bare back as she lay on her side, one muscled arm tucked under the pillow, the other draped across your waist. You were tangled in the warmth of her, limbs lazy and heavy, breaths slow. The blanket clung to your hips, your skin still humming from last night’s closeness.

You hadn’t meant to stay up so late. Patrol had been long and cold, but Abby had pulled you close the second you got back—no words, just warmth and need. The way she kissed you last night, with a mixture of urgency and tenderness, had left you aching in the best way.

And now, in the quiet hush of dawn, you traced the curve of her shoulder with your fingertips, marveling at how someone so strong could feel so gentle.

“I know you’re awake,” you whispered against her skin, your lips brushing just beneath her ear.

Abby groaned, pulling you tighter into her. “I don’t want to get up. Not if it means leaving this.”

You smiled, heart fluttering. “We have patrol in an hour.”

Her arm curled more securely around you. “Fuck patrol.”

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. “That’s not very responsible of you, Anderson.”

Her head tilted up enough to look at you with sleep-heavy eyes. “What are they gonna do? Fire me?” She smirked, then softened when she saw your flushed cheeks, your thumb grazing her jaw. “You’re too pretty. You make it hard to care about anything else.”

Your breath caught. Abby didn’t always say things like that—not out loud. She was more action than words, more presence than poetry. But when she did speak like this, it was honest, and it hit you deep.

“I want to kiss your pretty little face forever,” you murmured, echoing the sentiment you’d once written anonymously in your journal. You leaned in and did just that—soft kisses at the corner of her mouth, down the curve of her jaw. “You’re so sweet when you’re like this.”

Abby’s hand slid under your shirt—her shirt, really—resting just at your waist. “You’re clingy,” she teased, but her voice was laced with affection. “I like it."

You laughed again, curling up closer, hiding your face in her chest. “You started it. You’re the one who pulled me in the second we walked through the door.”

“That’s different,” she said, kissing the top of your head. “You looked cold.”

“And now?”

“Now you look like mine,” she whispered.

There was a long silence after that. The kind that felt sacred. The kind that didn’t need filling.

Eventually, you felt her shift and sighed as she tried to move. “Nooo, stay.”

Abby chuckled and collapsed back onto the bed with exaggerated drama. “Fine. But just five more minutes.”

“Fifteen,” you bargained, arms locking around her waist.

She kissed your forehead. “Fifteen minutes. Then we do something irresponsible, like skip patrol and make breakfast naked.”

Your laugh turned into a snort. “We’ll get arrested.”

“Worth it,” she muttered sleepily, eyes already drifting closed again.

You stayed there, wrapped up in her, heart full. Maybe the world was still broken in a thousand different ways, but here, in this bed, you had a moment of peace. And Abby. That was enough.

Abby Anderson Masterlist

main master list

about me!

Stories𓂃⋆.˚

- what we bury in silence: You and Abby were close—more than friends, though no one dared to say it aloud. But after Joel's death, you went quiet. Abby thought you'd never forgive her. That silence breaks one night when guilt, rage, and buried desire finally ignite.

- look at us now: Caught between a turbulent past with Ellie and a slowly blossoming future with Abby, you're forced to confront everything you thought you knew about love, loyalty, and healing.

- stateside: After months apart, Abby finally comes home—but the distance hasn’t only been physical. As old feelings resurface and tension brews, you’re both forced to confront what was left unsaid before she left.

- new magic wand: Abby has never been good at letting things go. And she sure as hell isn't letting go of you.

- stay in bed: in which you stayed in bed

- mrs. postman: in which you fell for the post lady.

series𓂃⋆.˚

Milf Abby

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

Baby

part 1 part 2 part 3

drabbles, hcs and short stories𓂃⋆.˚

gamer abby (hcs)

ceo abby (hcs)

Headcannons: dad's best friend!abby anderson x reader

masterlist

☆ Abby is your dad’s closest friend, someone who’s always been around but never really close to you. You were just the kid in the background—until one day, you weren’t.

☆ She saw it change in real time. You grew up. You started speaking with confidence, dressing differently, looking her in the eye. And it scared the hell out of her.

☆ She resisted—tried to ignore the way your laugh lingered in her mind or the way you’d look at her like you knew. But she couldn’t stop noticing you.

☆ The first time it happened, it was a mistake. A late-night conversation on the porch after your dad went to bed. A shared bottle of whiskey. A too-long stare. Your hand brushing hers.

☆ She kissed you. Hard. Desperate. She pulled away like she'd been burned, pacing, swearing under her breath, apologizing.

☆ You told her you wanted it. She told you it couldn’t happen again. It did.

☆ She never stays the night. Never kisses you in the daylight. Never looks at you for too long in public.

☆ You sneak around like it’s life or death. Quick meetups. Locked doors. Lies stacked on lies. Sometimes it makes you sick with adrenaline. Sometimes it makes you cry.

☆ Abby keeps trying to end it—but she always comes back. She’s addicted to you, even if she won’t admit it.

☆ Abby is riddled with guilt. You’re too young. You’re your father's daughter. She’s betraying someone who trusts her with his life. But she wants you—needs you—in a way that’s primal.

☆ She hates herself for it, but you’re the only one who sees her vulnerability. When she’s with you, she lets the walls fall.

☆ You hate the hiding. Hate pretending like she’s just your dad’s friend when she’s the one who’s memorized the way your body moves and how you like your coffee.

☆ She’s older, bigger, more experienced—and sometimes, she uses that. When you’re bratty or push her buttons, she’ll pin you against a wall, palm flat beside your head, whispering, “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

☆ But you’re not powerless. You know how to get to her. How to sit in her lap like it’s innocent. How to call her “Miss Anderson” in a mocking tone just to watch her unravel.

☆ Every moment between you is coiled like a spring—either about to snap into intimacy or explode in a fight.

☆ She hates seeing you with people your age. If you flirt with someone at a party, she corners you in the hallway with fire in her eyes: “You really want to play that game, sweetheart?”

☆ She doesn’t call you hers, but she touches you like you are. Marks you where no one can see. Leaves bruises on your hips and hickeys on your inner thighs like she’s branding you.

☆ When someone else starts showing interest in you, she snaps. Shows up at your apartment. Kisses you like punishment.

☆ Every sound in the hallway makes you freeze when you're together. Every time your dad mentions Abby, your stomach flips.

☆ One close call nearly ends everything—your dad comes home early while she’s still there. You hide in your room, half-dressed, while she plays it cool like she hasn’t just kissed you breathless.

☆ After that, she disappears for days. No calls. No texts. Then she shows up in the middle of the night, eyes red, whispering “I can’t stay away.”

☆ There’s something sacred in the way she holds you in silence. Like you’re the only thing keeping her sane. The way she lets you trace the scars on her back. The way she murmurs your name like a confession.

☆ Sometimes she sneaks into your bed and stays until dawn, just holding you. You wake up to her running her fingers through your hair like she’s memorizing the way you breathe.

☆ She never says "I love you" out loud. But you hear it in the way she says your name. In the way she lingers after kissing you goodbye, her hand hesitating at the doorknob.

☆ The secrecy starts to eat at you. You want her in the open. You want her to fight for you. But she’s scared—scared of destroying your family, of losing everything.

☆ You fight. She pushes you away. You think it’s over. But then she shows up at your door during a storm, soaked, shaking, whispering, “I’d rather burn for this than live without you.”

☆ That night, you realize she loves you—but she doesn’t know how to love you in the light.

☆ There are only two options: get caught… or leave.

☆ Abby starts talking about running away. Not in a romantic way—more like survival. “If he finds out, it’s over for me. For us. I’d lose you both.”

☆ You tell her you’d follow her. She tells you not to say things like that if you don’t mean them.

☆ By day, she’s the picture of loyalty: dependable, trustworthy Abby Anderson—the friend your dad relies on, the one who helps fix the roof and grills on weekends like she’s part of the family.

☆ But by night? She’s slipping into your room when no one’s watching. Holding you like she’s starved. Kissing you like she’s trying to press her soul into your mouth.

☆ She hates the mirror lately. Hates seeing herself knowing what she’s doing. But the only time she doesn’t feel like a monster is when she’s buried in your arms.

☆ She cooks for you in secret. Not well, but she tries—burnt grilled cheese, bland pasta. You eat it anyway, legs wrapped around her hips at the kitchen counter.

☆ She keeps a drawer of your things in her apartment: a sweater, a scrunchie, a book you left behind. She told herself it was just until you took them back—but she likes seeing pieces of you there.

☆ You steal a pair of her dog tags. Wear them under your clothes like a talisman. She notices, and that night, she makes you wear nothing but them.

☆ You have a code phrase—“Are you free to talk?”—that means “I need you. Now.”

☆ You meet in quiet places: her truck parked on the cliffside at night, an old garage your dad doesn’t use, hotel rooms under fake names. Every touch is frantic. Every goodbye, heartbreaking.

☆ After every time, she tells you it’s the last. She never means it. You both pretend like the next time won’t happen, even though it always does.

☆ She hid her jealousy well—until she doesn’t. If someone else touches you, even innocently, she goes cold. Her voice sharpens. Her eyes darken. Later, she drags you into a quiet room and kisses you like she owns you.

“No one else gets to see you like this.”

“You shouldn’t be showing yourself to anyone but me.”

☆ It’s twisted, and it turns you on. But it scares her. She’s never felt this out of control before, and it makes her want to run—or hold on tighter.

☆ After she touches you, there’s always a pause. A moment of silence where she looks at you like she’s doing something unforgivable. Like she’s already lost you.

☆ Sometimes she sits at the edge of the bed, head in her hands. “I shouldn’t want this,” she whispers. “I shouldn’t want you.”

You crawl into her lap, cup her face, and say, “Then don’t make me beg.”

And that’s all it takes—her restraint shatters.

☆ She knows every inch of you—where to touch, where you’re ticklish, what makes you melt. But it’s not just sex. It’s the way her hands tremble when she unzips your hoodie. The way her breath catches when you say her name like a secret.

Her voice drops when she’s turned on. Low, rough, almost pleading.

“You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Tell me you’re mine. Even if it’s just here.”

☆ She can’t be soft in public, so she’s overwhelmingly soft in private. She holds you like a secret she’ll die to keep. Kisses your forehead. Tells you she dreams of a version of the world where this isn’t wrong.

☆ You want more. You start slipping up. Touching her shoulder when your dad’s in the room. Smiling at her too long. She panics when you get bold.

“You’re going to ruin this,” she hisses one day when you almost kiss her goodbye. “Someone will find out.”

“Then let them,” you challenge.

She grabs your wrist. “Don’t ever say that again.”

☆ It starts to hurt—loving someone in the shadows. The secrets eat at you. You wonder if she’ll ever really choose you.

☆ You tell her: “I want a life with you. I want to hold your hand in public. I want people to know you’re mine.”

☆ Abby’s voice breaks. “I want that too. But I want your dad to look me in the eye without seeing betrayal. I want to deserve you first.”

☆ A near-discovery shakes everything. Maybe someone sees you leaving her place at dawn. Maybe your dad borrows her phone and sees your contact.

☆ Abby freaks out. Cuts contact. Says it’s over. You cry. She watches from a distance, agonizing over it.

☆ Then, weeks later—she shows up at your door again. Hands shaking. Heart bare. “I tried. I can’t stop. I need you.”

☆ She finally asks you to leave with her. No more hiding. No more pretending.

“Let’s go somewhere no one knows us. I’ll build us a life. Just say the word.”

Can you do smt for abby with the song new magic wand by Tyler the creator?

I love her puppy eyes and muscles so much 🥺

Also, i love obsessive women so

New Magic Wand - abby anderson x reader

hi anon!! fictional obsessive women are so hot ughhhhhhhh. i hope you enjoy:) also abby in this pic??? i love her.

this story is based off the song new magic wand by tyler the creator. If you can please listen to the song as you're reading:)

pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

requests are open, send me your thoughts:)

Warnings: dark themes, obsession, violence, psychological tension

Summary: Abby has never been good at letting things go. And she sure as hell isn't letting go of you.

Masterlist

You met Abby during a supply run in Jackson. Just two soldiers assigned to the same patrol, nothing special. But there was something about you—your laugh, maybe. The way you didn’t flinch when she barked orders. The way you looked at the world like it hadn’t completely fallen apart.

That was two months ago.

Now, she watches you from the shadows.

She doesn’t mean to. At first, it was casual. Coincidental. A walk past the stables. Lingering near the training yard. Asking around. But then she saw you with someone else. That girl—Mia, from the medbay. Too close. Touching your wrist. Whispering.

Abby’s jaw locked so tight her molars ached.

She waited. Quiet. Calculating.

She told herself you weren’t hers. But that wasn’t true. Not really.

You were hers. You just didn’t know it yet.

“She’s gonna be dead, I just got a magic wand.”

You started noticing strange things.

Your door left slightly ajar when you knew you closed it. The sweater you thought you lost suddenly reappearing on your cot. A shadow behind you in the glass of the dining hall. At first, you brushed it off. The world was full of paranoia and trauma—maybe it was just stress.

Then Mia disappeared.

She never showed up to her shift. Her bunk was untouched. No note. No signs of struggle.

You asked questions. Abby watched you from across the rec room as you begged the search party to look further. No one had the energy to care. People disappeared sometimes.

But Abby cared.

Abby had taken care of the problem.

She didn't use a "magic wand"—just her hands. Just enough pressure. She didn’t scream. Abby was proud of that. No mess. No loose ends.

She thought you'd notice her now. You didn’t.

You started pulling away. Spending more time alone. Your smile—her favorite thing about you—began to dim. She hated that. Hated that you didn’t know she was trying to protect you.

Abby tried to get closer. Leaving you small things. A can of your favorite peaches. A leather glove you mentioned needing. You thanked her, politely.

But not the way she wanted.

“I need to get her out the picture, she’s really fucking up my frame.”

Abby started dreaming about you. In those dreams, you kissed her like you meant it. You let her hold you. You begged her to stay. Woke up to soaked sheets and a clenched jaw.

Reality was uglier. You barely looked at her now. You were scared—she could see it in your eyes. That made her blood boil and her stomach twist.

It was that fucking patrol leader next.

Sergio.

Too friendly. Too smug. Too willing to walk next to you, show you how to hold a better grip on your rifle.

Abby followed him. Took his knee out behind the stables. Broke his arm and left him in the snow. Said she found him that way.

It wasn’t about jealousy, she told herself. It was about clarity. You and her—there was no room for anyone else in the picture.

They were ruining the shot. The life she could see so clearly with you.

She’d fix it.

“I wanna be found, passenger in your car.”

You knew it by the fourth disappearance. This wasn’t just coincidence. Someone was doing this.

Someone was doing this for you.

That’s when you found the journal.

Hidden under the floorboard in the old stables. Pages and pages of your name. Drawings of your face. A lock of your hair taped to the corner of a page. Abby’s messy handwriting scrawled beneath every entry:

“I saw her smile today. I think she smiled at me.”

“She wore her green coat. It suits her. She looked cold—I should bring her another.”

“She looked at her again. I want to rip her throat out.”

“She's mine. She just doesn't understand yet.”

Your breath caught. She was watching you. All this time.

“You got a new friend, it hurts. I’ll make you one, I’ll make you one.”

You confronted her. Cornered her in the greenhouse, where no one else went anymore.

"Abby," you said, voice trembling. "What the fuck did you do?"

She didn’t deny it. Just looked at you like she always had—like you were the sun burning through her skull.

“I protected you,” she said. “They didn’t deserve you. None of them did.”

“You killed them,” you whispered.

She stepped closer. You flinched. That hurt her—cut deep.

“I’d do it again,” Abby murmured, voice soft and low. “I’d do anything for you.”

You should’ve run. You should’ve screamed.

But something in her eyes—something fractured and sincere—rooted you in place.

She reached out, calloused fingers brushing your cheek. You didn’t move.

"You don’t have to be scared," she whispered. "I’m not gonna hurt you. I just want you to see. We can be good, you and me."

And despite everything—the deaths, the obsession, the blood on her hands—your heart stuttered.

Because some broken, desperate part of you wanted to believe her.

Wanted to believe you could be loved that completely.

“Please don’t leave me now.”

Abby kept you in a cabin miles from Jackson. Safe. Stocked. Secluded. A place where no one could come between you.

She made you tea. Lit the fireplace. Spoke softly. Touched you like you were made of glass.

You tried to run once. She found you hours later, frostbitten and sobbing.

She carried you back. Wrapped you in blankets. Kissed your forehead.

“You don’t get it,” she murmured against your skin. “You’re all I have left.”

And eventually...you stopped fighting. Let her touch linger. Let her hold you at night.

You told yourself it was survival. But when she kissed you the first time, your lips parted.

Not in protest.

But in surrender.

stateside- abby anderson x reader

this story is based off the song state side by pinkpantheress, if you can please listen to the song as you're reading:)

Pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

requests are open, send me your ideas:)

Warnings: Jealousy, emotional repression, post-situationship confusion, cursing, mentions of hookup culture, kissing, emotional vulnerability

Summary: After months apart, Abby finally comes home—but the distance hasn’t only been physical. As old feelings resurface and tension brews, you’re both forced to confront what was left unsaid before she left.

Setting: Modern College AU

Masterlist

You weren’t her girlfriend. Not officially. You weren’t even sure what you were.

Somewhere between a secret, a comfort, and a goddamn heartbeat.

Late-night car rides. Unspoken rules. Her breath at your neck when the world went quiet—but no hand-holding in public, no posting you on stories, no “this is my girl.”

You told yourself you were okay with it.

You weren’t.

So when Abby left for her out-of-state internship with no real goodbye—just a message that read:

“Headed out. Don’t wait up.”

—it cracked something open in you. And three months later, you still hadn’t sealed it shut.

It wasn’t just the photos (though they burned.)

The ones where she stood beside that medical student—Isla. Bright smile. Tank top. Hand on Abby’s shoulder like it belonged there.

It was the silence.

No texts. No late-night calls. No “I miss you.”

And yet every time you closed your eyes, you could feel her:

The weight of her hand on your thigh in the car.

The way she pulled you close but never close enough.

You tried to move on.

Hooked up once with someone too sweet and too soft.

But it wasn’t her. And the silence only got louder.

You found out she was back from some guy at a party.

“Didn’t you and Abby Anderson used to mess around?” he asked lazily, red cup in hand.

You froze. “What?”

“She’s back in town. Thought I saw her near the gym.”

The air shifted around you. Your ears rang. You left the party early.

Buzzing with resentment and longing, palms sweaty from the weight of things unsaid.

You didn’t text her.

But you stared at her contact all night, whispering to yourself, don’t be that girl. And then you were.

The next day, she was just there—in the café near campus, hoodie loose over her frame, head bent over her laptop.

You froze when you saw her. She looked up. Blinked. Took an AirPod out.

“Hey,” she said, like no time had passed. Like you weren’t breaking.

You sat across from her before you could change your mind. “You’re back.”

“Tuesday.”

You looked at your hands. “No text?”

She winced. “Didn’t think you’d want one.”

“You left without saying goodbye.”

“I didn’t think I deserved one,” she said, softer.

That shut you up. Because deep down… maybe she was right.

You left together. Neither of you said it out loud—but somehow, you ended up in her car. The way you always used to.

Same quiet roads. Same faint music.

Same ache in your chest.

You turned to her. “You seeing someone?”

She hesitated. “No. You?”

You shook your head. “Tried. Didn’t work.”

The air between you pulsed.

“Why didn’t you call?” you asked.

She tightened her grip on the wheel. “Because I knew if I did… I wouldn’t stop.”

Silence.

You stared ahead. “I would’ve answered.”

She pulled over.

“I missed you,” she admitted. “More than I should’ve.”

You didn’t know if it was closure or a beginning. But you kissed her anyway.

You slept in her bed that night.

She didn’t touch you—not at first. Just handed you an old hoodie, let you curl under her blanket, and sat down next to you like she was scared to break something fragile.

You wanted to ask her what this meant. If this was her way of coming back.

Instead, you whispered, “I missed your room.”

And she whispered back, “I missed your voice.”

That was enough—for now.

Over the next week, you kept pretending it was nothing.

Texts. “Wanna grab food?” “You still awake?” “Need a ride?”

But it wasn’t casual. Not really.

Not when she looked at you like that.

Not when her fingers brushed yours and lingered.

Not when she flinched every time someone else mentioned Isla.

You weren’t hers. She wasn’t yours.

But you were still something.

And that something was slowly burning the both of you alive.

The breaking point came on a Friday night.

You were at a mutual friend’s place, trying to play it cool. Abby walked in late—messy bun, grey t-shirt, muscle memory and heartbreak wrapped in denim.

And Isla was there too.

They didn’t touch. But she stood close. Laughed too loud. Looked too often.

Your heart fell into your stomach.

Abby caught your eye across the room. You held her gaze for one full second before walking out.

You didn’t even make it halfway down the street before she caught up.

“Wait,” she called.

You spun on her. “What are we doing, Abby?”

She blinked.

“I can’t keep pretending we don’t matter,” you said, voice cracking. “I can’t keep acting like this is casual when it never was.”

Silence.

Her jaw clenched. “You think I don’t want you?”

“I think you’re too scared to admit you do.”

That hit something deep.

She stepped forward, crowding into your space. “You’re wrong.”

“Then say it.”

She grabbed your face in both hands. “I want you.”

Your breath caught.

“God help me, I want you,” she said, forehead pressed to yours. “I left because I thought I’d ruin it. Because I’m not soft, and I don’t know how to be good at this—but I never stopped thinking about you.”

You kissed her like you were drowning.

And this time, she kissed you back like she meant it.

They don’t fix it all at once.

But they start over—this time with honesty. This time with intention.

No more hiding. No more maybe.

Just two people learning how to love each other out loud—even if it scares them.

Headcannons: ceo!abby anderson x fem!reader

masterlist

☆ Abby is the kind of CEO who commands a room the moment she walks in. Tailored suits, sharp jawline, low voice that cuts through the noise. People either fear her or fall in love with her—there’s no in-between.

☆ She didn’t inherit the company; she built her reputation through blood, sweat, and an iron will. Everyone knows the rumors: military background, strategic acquisitions, never smiles unless she’s already won.

☆ In meetings, she’s precise, no-nonsense. Employees scramble to meet deadlines because the idea of disappointing her is terrifying—but deep down, they respect her. She’s fair. She rewards loyalty, effort, and genius when she sees it.

☆ You work in one of the departments she rarely pays attention to—PR, internal communications, or perhaps you're an executive assistant brought in as a temp to cover someone’s maternity leave.

☆ She notices you because you’re not intimidated by her. You’re polite but blunt, you don’t fawn over her like others do. And when she gives you a task, you complete it perfectly—without needing a follow-up.

☆ The first time she really looks at you is when you correct a minor detail in one of her public statements. She stares at you for a beat too long, then nods. That’s when it all started.

☆ Abby is all control—she’s used to people submitting, obeying. But you? You don’t give her that satisfaction easily. It drives her insane and fascinates her at the same time.

☆ She tries to keep it professional, but her restraint cracks. She starts showing up near your desk more often than necessary, asking for “updates” she could have emailed about.

☆ You make her feel off-balance, and Abby hates being off-balance—but she keeps coming back for it.

☆ When the relationship starts, it’s secret. Very secret. Her rules: no one knows, no workplace displays, and absolutely no compromising your career because of her.

☆ But it doesn’t take long before those lines blur. She touches your wrist in meetings. She defends you publicly. She gets jealous when other execs talk to you.

☆ Abby’s bedroom persona is different—still dominant, but reverent. Like she’s worshipping something she doesn’t think she deserves.

☆ She tries to be gentle, but her hands are rough, and her need is overwhelming. She’ll press you into soft sheets in her penthouse, hair loose, voice husky as she murmurs your name like a prayer.

☆ Aftercare is where her walls drop: she wraps you in her arms, kisses your forehead, brushes your hair back. She doesn’t say much, but the way she holds you says it all.

☆ You’re the only person who’s seen Abby cry. It happened once after a brutal boardroom betrayal. You found her sitting alone in her office at 1AM, hands shaking, eyes red. She didn’t send you away.

☆ She doesn’t let anyone touch her unless she initiates—except you. If you brush your hand over hers during a bad day, she visibly relaxes. No one else has that power.

☆ She trusts you with her past. Military trauma, the father she lost, the fear of turning into a machine. You’re her anchor.

☆ Abby doesn’t get petty jealous—but if someone flirts with you at a company party, she’s by your side in seconds. Hand on your lower back, icy stare, soft command in your ear: “Come with me.”

☆ If you’re ever hurt, dismissed, or undermined at work, Abby becomes an unstoppable force. “They don’t work here anymore,” she’ll say flatly, her protectiveness quiet and lethal.

☆ Sends you flowers “anonymously” that somehow end up in the executive suite with your name on them.

☆ Leaves sticky notes on your monitor with short notes: “You killed it today.” “Dinner tonight, 8PM.” “Proud of you.”

☆ Hires a private chef for your birthday but insists on cooking breakfast herself the next morning in nothing but a shirt and boxers.

☆ Keeps a framed candid photo of you in her locked drawer. You don’t know about it, but she looks at it on the hardest days.

☆ Eventually, you’re not a secret anymore. Abby makes it public in her own way: attending a gala with you on her arm, no apology in her eyes.

☆ She promotes you—not because of your relationship, but because you’re damn good at what you do. She makes sure no one can question your worth.

☆ Talks about retirement one day. Not to quit, but to slow down. “Maybe we’ll move somewhere quieter,” she murmurs against your neck. “Somewhere with a garden.”

☆ You knew Abby loved her diary. She wrote everything in there, every emotion, every high and every low. You were never allowed to read it, until one day you were alone in her room you decided to take a peek:

January 3rd

11:47 PM – Office

I saw her again today.

Same desk. Same quiet smile. Same nerve to look me dead in the eye without flinching.

I shouldn’t notice. I shouldn’t care.

But I do. And it’s starting to piss me off.

-

February 9th

1:15 AM – Penthouse

She corrected me. In front of the team.

Tactfully. Respectfully. But it was still a correction.

And god, it turned me on.

What the hell is wrong with me?

-

March 2nd

10:06 PM – Gym Locker Room

She wore her hair up today. It pulled her features tighter, more severe. And yet, all I wanted to do was tug it loose and see her fall apart.

I made up a reason to call her into my office.

Five minutes of conversation about a report I didn’t read.

Her voice lingers longer than it should.

-

March 16th

12:22 AM – Office (again)

I touched her hand today.

Not by accident. Not in passing.

I could feel the pulse in her wrist—fast, unsure.

She didn’t pull away.

Neither did I.

I’m crossing lines now. I know it.

I don’t want to stop.

-

April 4th

2:02 AM – Bedroom

She kissed me first.

That’s what I’ll tell myself, even if I know it’s a lie.

We were in the elevator, alone. I leaned in. Maybe too close. She looked at me like she’d already forgiven the mistake I hadn’t made yet.

I kissed her like I hadn’t wanted anything else in years.

And she kissed me back.

I’m fucked.

-

April 22nd

3:35 AM – After she fell asleep

She sleeps like she trusts me.

That should terrify me.

Instead, I’m scared of how badly I want to earn it.

-

May 11th

11:11 PM – Office

Saw her laughing with one of the interns. I hated how it made me feel.

Possessive. Petty. Animal.

I smiled when she glanced over, but I wanted to drag her away and remind her who she belongs to.

No. Not "belongs."

That’s not right. She’s not mine.

But I’m hers.

And I don’t think she even knows it.

-

May 27th

9:49 PM – Her Apartment

She made dinner. It was bad. I ate every bite.

She looked so proud.

When she leaned over to kiss me, all I could think was: I’ve gone soft.

Then she whispered she loves me.

And just like that, I broke.

-

June 5th

Midnight – Private Jet

I’m bringing her to the gala. Publicly. No more secrets.

Let them talk. Let them guess.

She’s not a scandal.

She’s the only real thing I have.

-

July 1st

10:10 PM – Lake House (weekend getaway)

She made me promise I’d rest.

No emails. No meetings.

She’s outside reading a book right now. Feet in the water. Hair wind-blown.

I’m watching her through the window.

And for the first time in a long time, I feel... free.

Maybe love isn’t a weakness.

Maybe it’s the only reason I’ve survived this long.

pls make reader and milf!abby have a baby together 😭😭😭

Baby - part 1/3 (Milf!Abby x reader)

This is going to be a 3 part series! Part 2 will be released soon:)

Milf abby: Part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

baby series: part 1 part 2 part 3

masterlist

Authors note: i'm back fr, i finally finished with exams and I'm here to spam with fics again

☆ Milf Abby who was happy with the life the two of you were already living but something was missing.

☆Milf Abby who always thought you were good with kids

☆ Milf Abby who never really thought about having another kid until she married you.

☆ Milf Abby who thinks about it a little too much, if she has to be honest

☆ Milf Abby who never brought up the conversation of having another baby even though you were hinting at having another kid.

"Abby isn’t this cute" you said with a pout as you handed her a onesie you bought for Mel's baby shower.

"Abby look" you pointed at Aubrey playing with one of your collogues newborn baby: "she’d be such a good big sister"

☆ Milf Abby who would only nod or smile at whatever you had to say involving babies because she was terrified.

☆ Milf Abby who was asked about when the two of you were gonna have a baby.

"So..." Nora started

"yeah?" the blonde looked at her with a raised eyebrow

"when are you and your girl gonna have a baby?"

suddenly Abby's body went cold, she could hear her heart beating out of her chest and she silently stared at Nora with wide eyes.

"We um-"

"Abby having another baby?"

They heard a voice talk from behind them. Both of the girls heads snapped into the direction of the voice and there stood Mel, still heavily pregnant.

"When you have a kid you should be able to play with them, and to run around- don’t you think you passed that stage already? Don’t you have back pain or something?"

"Mel" Nora said sternly.

"no Nora she has to hear the truth" Mel replied.

Abby met the eyes of the brunette and Mel gave her a sympathetic smile: "by the time your baby is ten you'd almost be sixty, you'd be her grandma Abby"

☆ Milf Abby who agreed with Mel.

☆ Milf Abby who avoided you for a few days because she felt like she was keeping you back in life.

"Can you shut the fuck up" she said with a frustrated sigh.

You looked at her with a raised eyebrow. You knew there was something wrong due to her distant behavior recently. You thought she was stressed, tired maybe.

“Abby I just asked if you wanted something to eat”

Abby looked at you with a blank facial expression, before she looked down to the floor, brining her head into her hands.

You walked towards her putting your hand on her shoulder “talk to me abs”

you felt her muscles tense underneath your touch “c’mon Abby you can tell me anything”

she finally looked up from her hands, and she made brief eye contact with you before she looked away once again

“I-“

“spit it out”

“I don’t think we should have a baby”

“what?”

“listen baby” she started, and she gently took your hands into hers as she saw your eyes fill with tears

“I did some thinking, and I don’t think we should have a baby because I’m happy just with you and Aubrey. Don’t you think another baby will complicate our life?”

You stared at her in shock, how could she not tell you about this earlier?

“Abby you knew. You fucking knew I wanted to have kids, and you said you wanted the same. Now you want to change your mind?”

“Can I not change my mind?”

“You have every right to, but you know how I felt about having kids. You know that I've always wanted to be a mom"

She knew that. She knew all of this.

“aren’t you already a mom to Aubrey? Are you saying my daughter isn't good enough?”

“I did not fucking say that and you know that”

“but you meant it”

“fuck you” was all you said as you got up and walked towards the room the two of you shared.

She doesn’t know why she said that.

God Abby fucking knows what she said was wrong. It's not that she doesn’t want to have kids, its just she knew Mel had a point. She would be in her sixties by the time your baby would be done with high school.

Maybe she was too old after all.

☆ Milf Abby who had to listen to you sob throughout the night.

☆ Milf Abby who tried talking to you the next morning.

Abby let out a groan as she heard Aubrey giggle. She brought her hands up to her eyes as she opened them.

The light has always been bright in the living, but jesus she didn’t know they were this fucking bright.

Abby winched as she sat up from the couch, her limbs felt like they were burning. Her eyes fell on you and Aubrey. The two of you were eating and smiling, and as she took in the scene and she knew it was fucked up of her to say what she said yesterday.

Abby got up, still feeling stiff but she made her way towards the two people who she loved the most.

Aubrey gave her a bug smile and muttered a quick "good morning mommy" before she ran to her room. She smiled at her daughters before she focused her attention towards you.

You didn't even look at her.

She felt sick to her stomach.

“I left some eggs for you” was all you said before you walked out the kitchen.

Abby really fucked up.

☆ Milf Abby who tried getting your attention all week but you ignored her.

☆ Milf Abby who tried talking to you but all you replied with was “I don’t want to talk”

☆ Milf Abby who finally had enough and she decided that she should tell you what actually happened.

☆ Milf Abby who showed up to your classroom once again.

The room was empty and you stood with your back facing away from the door. Abby quietly walked towards you.

“hi”

she watched as your body jerked “jesus Abby I told you that you should start knocking” you said out of breath.

"Sorry" she mumbled

"can we talk?" she watched you facial expression turn cold.

“sure”

“thank you”

The room was filled a awkward silence, it was tense and it felt suffocating.

“talk Abby, I have things to do”

“I'm sorry”

“is sorry all you can fucking say?”

Abby wanted to bang her head against a wall.

“I want to have a baby with you”

“aw you changed your mind? What happened? Did I force you Abby? Are you sure you want this Abby? Oh wait! I don’t think I want to be a mom anymore, since you said that I m practically going to replace Aubrey. Oops let me-"

"it was Mel"

"what did Mel do?"

And the truth came out. Abby told you everything she said, how I made her feel.

You gave her a sympathetic smile before you spoke again: "You need to stop letting people tell you you're too old Abby. You keep losing opportunities, you keep giving yup your dreams, as soon as someone says something. You need to learn that you should stop listing to what others have to say about your age"

“I know but its hard” Abby muttered.

You got up and you walked towards her and you pulled her into a tight up “I know, but we’ll work though it. I’ll help you with whatever and if you don’t want to have a baby its ok-"

"no no I want to have a baby. I want to have one with you"

a smile spread onto your face.

"can we have a baby?" Abby asked.

"if you start working on your self confidence and you stop listing to what bitches have to say about you I will then we can have a baby"

"yes ma'am, i'll do whatever you say"

"one more thing Abby"

"yeah?"

"Don't ever talk to me in that way again. What you said really hurt my feelings, and i understand you were hurting too but it didn't give you the right to talk to me in that way. I love Aubrey more than anything so don't say that again"

"I'm so sorry baby i really am, i there anything i can do to make it up to you?"

"You can start by getting me chocolate milk"

☆ Milf Abby who made it up to you by apologizing over a million times, and by doing every single thing you said.

☆ Milf Abby who immediately started looking for doctors and baby names.

☆ Milf Abby who blocked Mel because fuck her and her fucking opinions.

☆ Milf Abby who did started working on her self confidence and she immediately felt better about everything.

☆ Milf Abby who was excited to have a baby with you.

<3

My pookies (the taglist): @lia-winther @hellorai

can u pretty please with a cherry on top make a part 4 to the milf abby 😔🙏🏼💟

Headcannons: Milf!abby anderson x reader (part 4)

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

Authors note: Ladies and pookies I'm back! This last week has been the worst and most painful week of my life but, I'm back and better than ever <3

☆ Milf Abby who gets your initials tattooed on her ring finger.

You felt her calloused hands grab your waist as you stood admiring the ring she got you.

“it’s pretty” you muttered

“you’re pretty” she said with a smile

“shut up Abby” you shoved her to the side as you felt your face grow hot.

The two of you stood in silence for a while, enjoying the peace and quiet you both rarely get with Aubrey

“you know” Abby started “if the bride gets to wear an engagement ring, what about their partner?”

Your brows furrow, at the thought.

“that actually makes a lot of sense Abby. We should get you a ring-“

but before you could even finish you sentence Abby lifted up her right hand revealing the tattoo.

“what the fuck Abigail”

☆ Milf Abby who refers to you as her wife long before the wedding.

“Yeah my wife and I went there”

“she’s my wife”

“my wife likes that show” “you know what they say happy wife happy life”

☆ Milf Abby who buys you white dresses as gifts just to see what you would look like in white, because she really couldn’t wait for the wedding.

☆ Milf Abby who’s literally a perfectionist and plans the wedding without a planner.

“No, you aren’t folding the napkins right” “that isn’t the right shade of pink”

☆ Milf Abby who asks her daughter to be the ring bearer and the maid of honor.

Aubrey looked at you with curious eyes as Abby placed the box onto her lap.

“dude what’s this?”

“Aubrey I’m not your friend, who taught you that word?” Abby sighed

“grandpa did” “of course he did. He really needs to stop-“

 “Abby lets focus on the box” you interrupted her, knowing this conversation wasn’t going anywhere.

“Can I open it please?” Aubrey asked you, with a polite smile.

“of course she’s nice to you! You little gremlin-“

“Abby!”

Abby felt Aubrey pinch her arm at the gremlin comment

“why would you-“

“ok” you said with a stern voice “lets open the box, you guys can fight later”

sometimes it felt like you were living with children.

Aubrey’s small hands grabbed the box, eagerly tearing away the wrapping paper. In the box lay a simple white dress, with paper rings. The little girl gently grabbed the fabric, inspecting it. She saw the rings and it took her a while to get it.

“I’m carrying the rings?!” she yelled

“and we were hoping you’d be our maid of honor too” you pulled out a basket from behind you and the girls smile grew.

☆ Milf Abby who begs you to let her go with you when you go wedding dress shopping.

“please”

“Abby its bad luck”

“fuck the bad luck”

☆ Milf Abby who sends you thumbs down emoji’s the whole time you were gone.

☆ Milf Abby who doesn’t want to sleep in separate houses the night before the wedding.

☆ Milf Abby who sends you cringe Facebook minion memes and jokes because she misses you. This was your first night apart in months, but she knew after tonight she would be waking up with you next to her for the rest of her life.

☆ Milf Abby who barley slept that night. She wasn’t sure if she was nervous or excited.

☆ Milf Abby who gets ready extremely early. Her hair was out of her normal tight braid, and the hair fell to her shoulders. Her black suit hugging her in all the right places.

☆ Milf Abby who starts at herself in the mirror too long, and she suddenly notices her wrinkles, she suddenly notices the grey hairs.

☆ Milf Abby who gets cold feet.

☆ Milf Abby who starts crying because you didn’t deserve this.

You needed someone younger, some who doesn’t have back pains and complains about their joints hurting. Someone who wasn’t turning 50 soon.

Someone who won’t die soon.

You needed more than Abby.

Abby’s loud sobs filled the room as she looked at herself in the mirror.

She should call this off.

“Abby?” her head snapped to the direction of the door. It was her dad. She quickly wiped her eyes, and she sniffed a couple of times. “hey dad” he slowly walked towards her, and he gently sat next to her, putting his hand on her shoulder he muttered “you okay?”

The blonde sitting next to him broke out in sobs, her head fell to his shoulder “oh honey” he breathed as he held her close.

“Abby what’s wrong?” He felt his daughter tremble next to him. “i- I’m keeping her back in life” Abby started, and Jerry just sat and listened to her.

“I’m so old I’m probably going to die soon. Who wants to be married to a grandma? One of these days I won’t be able to get out of bed without complaining. And she’s so pretty and young- she-she deserves everything, and what can I give her? My future dentures?”

“have you ever thought that this is what she wanted?”

Abby lifted her head to what her father said.

“The fact she’s marrying you proves that the love she has for you is endless. She’s willing to look after you when you do get those dentures. She wants you as much as you want her Abby, don’t let your insecurities stop you from being with the love of your life. And yeah, you’ll get old, but she’ll be with you”

☆ Milf Abby who goes to the venue earlier than everyone to make sure everything is ok.

☆ Milf Abby who stood at the altar with sweaty palms, waiting for your arrival.

☆ Milf Abby who started crying as soon as you start walking down the aisle.

 ☆ Milf Abby who couldn’t take her eyes off you the whole ceremony because she realized that this was it. She was marrying you.

☆ Milf Abby who shed more tears than you did during your vows and she cried even more when Aubrey came with the rings.

☆ Milf Abby who practically jumps on you when they said she could kiss you.

You felt her hands grab your face, and she brought you in for a rough kiss.

The crowned screamed around the two of you and you heard the clicks of all the cameras. You felt Abby’s lips smile against yours before she pulled away putting her head against yours.

She whispered “I’ll love you forever”

“I love you too abs, forever and always”

Can you maybe do post man Abby with Mrs.postman- Black pumas

Mrs. Postman - (abby anderson x reader)

Hi anon! this was so weird to write because where I'm from we don't have people who deliver our mail, but i hope i did you justice. I hope you enjoy:)

This story is based off the song Mrs. Postman by Black Pumas, if you can please listen to the song as you're reading:)

Pairing: post man!abby x fem!reader

requests are open again! send me your silly thoughts:)

warnings: none

Summary: in which you fell for the post lady

authors note: first abby fic that isn't hcs??? let's fucking go dude. My second post for the day, I'm blessing yall before I leave till god knows when lmao.

Every tomorrow brings sunshine in my neighborhood since you've been in it

Oh-oh, here comes Mrs. Postman

She's thicker than blue blood and a message from her spirits, high descendant

Oh-oh, it's Mrs. Postman

This commonality won't let her be fooled by low conditions

Oh-oh, says Mrs. Postman

Your love reside in me but other feathers seem to flock together

Oh-oh, Mrs. Postman

You hated this stupid fucking city.

You don't even know why you moved here in the first place. It was fucking hot. Everything was expensive. You hated this place so much.

The Jackson sun was high in the sky, as you stood at the window drinking your morning tea.

You had moved in a couple of weeks ago, and today was finally the day you would be able to get your mail.

You finally heard the knock at the door, and with excitement you ran towards it. You almost tripped but no one needs to know that.

As you opened the door, you thought you stood in front of a god.

Her blonde hair, was pulled back in a tight braid, she was staring at you with her beautiful eyes, and her smile was just fucking perfect. Her uniform sat tight against her skin, showing her body is just the right places.

Holy shit.

Postman or Postwoman? You don't even what to call her.

"Hi, I'm Abby! You must be new" she said with a bright smile.

Now you knew why everyone is Jackson was always so happy in the morning, their fucking postman was a ray of sunshine.

"Yeah I am" you said with a small smile, opening up your hand to take the package from her hands.

"Have a good day ma'am" Abby said, before she walked away.

Maybe Jackson wasn't that bad after all.

If you want it

Go and get it, you can have it Mrs. Postman

That's alright

Can we spark it? Effervescence, let the flame burn Mrs. Postman

Right on

When it rains just know that every little thing is alright

All the same, I know that everything will be right on time

as the weeks went by, you realized that Jackson wasn't such a bad place.

The people were nice, it was a safe area. The Postlady is really hot. Things were looking up.

You found yourself waking up earlier in the morning, just to make yourself look prettier. You would sweep your front porch daily, to make sure that Abby would come to a clean place. You found yourself baking cookies, and giving it to her every morning.

What was happening to you?

Even when you didn't have any mail, Abby always made a turn at your place. Her visits always made you feel special.

The days Abby didn't come, you always felt the lack of her presence. She'd become a part of you routine. She's become a part of you.

Over time you learned small facts about the blonde.

Her dad was a surgeon, she had one dog, her favorite color is blue, she works 5 days a week, and she's trying to get into college.

You could say the two of you had established a friendship.

You saw whatever you had as more than that. You guys weren't a friendship in your eyes. You felt that there was more.

Your crush on Abby grew by the second, every interaction, every smile and giggle she let out had an effect on you.

god you were down bad for your fucking Postwoman.

Today was like no other.

You woke up, took a showers and you put on brand new blue sundress you bought to hope fully catch Abby's eye.

You sat in your living room, staring at the clock, counting down the seconds of Abby's arrival.

You heard a knock at your door, and you jumped up, cleaning your throat as you walked towards the door. You took a deep breath as you opened the door and you were met with Abby's smiling face.

You saw her eyes wonder down your body as she looked at your outfit.

She thought you looked fucking beautiful.

"Hi Abby" you muttered shyly.

Your eyes met as, and you felt a spark.

"Hi" Abby smiled.

"Do I have mail?" you asked.

"Yeah a letter" Abby handed it to you.

You thanked her and the two of you stood there for a while.

"Aren't you supposed to go Abby?" You asked unsure of why she still stood there.

"Open it"

with a raised eyebrow you opened the letter.

The page was complete white, but in the middle of the page there was some words written in black ink.

Will you go on a date with me?

From your favorite postwoman

Abby <3

You looked up at her with eyes wide, and she awkwardly brought her hand up to scratch the back of her neck.

"So?" She asked unsure.

She looked terrified.

"Fuck yes" You breathed before you leaped forward bringing her in for a hug. You gave her a kiss on a cheek as you pulled away, her face was red.

You made her so fucking nervous.

"Can we go out tonight?" Abby looked at you with a hopeful smile.

"See you tonight ms postman"

Headcannons: Milf!abby anderson x reader (part 3)

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

☆ Milf Abby who’s literally the sweetest girlfriend ever. A little old school, but she’s still cute.

☆ Milf Abby who buys you weekly flowers, and who packs you lunch.

☆ Milf Abby who helps you plan lessons and sometimes comes and helps you teach.

☆ Milf Abby who gets baby fever if she sees you with kids.

☆ Milf Abby who said I love you after 3 days of dating.

☆ Milf Abby who has you as her lock screen.

☆ Milf Abby who plans family dates for you and her daughter.

☆ Milf Abby whose heart clenches when she sees how much Aubrey talks about you.

☆ Milf Abby who feels like a teenager because of you.

☆ Milf Abby that’s confused when you text her slang

Abby: ill come pick you up later?

you: yeah baby, I have to go now ttyl

Abby: what is that

☆ Milf Abby who finds pop culture drama interesting because she’s never really took interest in it till you appeared.

☆ Milf Abby who discovers so much and she feels old, but you never judge or make fun of her for it.

☆ Milf Abby who knows you’re the one.

☆ Milf Abby bought you an engagement ring after 2 weeks of dating. It was a simple ring because she knew you didn’t like big and extravagant things (unless it’s her dick-)

☆ Milf Abby who wants to propose to you at a family BBQ

☆ Milf Abby who takes you to meet her family after 4 months of dating, and she knew that this was the weekend she was going to propose.

☆ Milf Abby who held your hand the entire time, when you were being introduced.

☆ Milf Abby who tried staying by your side, but then you snatched away by Aubrey and her cousins.

☆ Milf Abby who stared at you with a smile as you were playing with the kids because you were just that pretty.

☆ Milf Abby who gets cocky when her family tells her she made the right choice.

“You got yourself a pretty girl abs”

“I know”

☆ Milf Abby who was having a good night till her ex-wife showed up.

“What are you doing here?” Abby asked through gritted teeth.

“it’s a family event, can I not be here?”

“you aren’t family”

“Abby she barley sees her mother:

“did you forget we have a child together?”

☆ Milf Abby who wanted to leave but you convinced her to stay for the sake of Aubrey.

“but she’s a bitch”

Aubrey grabbed onto your hand and she ran to her mother. You watched the women’s face drop at the sight of you

“Abby please”

☆ Milf Abby who wanted to slap her ex-wife every time she gave you a dirty look.

“mom this mommy’s girlfriend! isn’t she pretty?!”

The women stared at you with hatred in her eyes. She extended her hand out to grab your other hand in a tight handshake “I’m Kimberly” then you told her your name. The two of you fell into a awkward conversation, until she brought up Abby.

“how long have you been together?” she asked

“4 months” you replied with a smile.

“isn’t it too early to be meeting the family?” she asked, and you rolled your eyes before you responding: “isn’t it too bitchy to judge what I do in my relationship?”

Kimberly stared at you with wide eyes.

☆ Milf Abby who was listening to the whole interaction and she had the biggest smile on her face. That her girl.

☆ Milf Abby who was glued by your side the entire night, but you somehow got lost.

☆ Milf Abby who saw Kimberly walk up to her and she knew this wasn’t going to end well.

“What do you want?” Abby groaned.

“Look I need to say something”

“then talk”

The women took a deep breath before she started spewing nonsense: “I think she’s too young for you! She’s childish”

“that’s your opinion, you know nothing about her”

“well I don’t like her” Kimberly went on.

“that’s ok, but she’s my girlfriend so I don’t know why its bothering you”

“I don’t want her around Aubrey”

that was Abby’s final straw.

“Listen here, you’re barley present in our daughters life. She’s been a better mother to her that you, ever were! You know shit about Aubrey”

“I do” she tried arguing.

“if you did you would’ve know she doesn’t like the nutty chocolate you brought for her”

Kimberly went quiet. Abby continued on to talk.

“You are a shit person. You were a shitty wife, and a shitty mother. My daughter doesn’t deserve that. She needs someone like her. She’s my everything and I would fucking kill for her, so I suggest you stay out of my family’s life”

“but she’s still my daughter”

“she might be but I have full custody” Abby chuckled. “And besides not everyone was made to be a mother, especially you” Kimberly stood there quietly, and she left the party soon after.

☆ Milf Abby who was relieved that she was finally gone.

☆ Milf Abby whose family knew about the proposal and they were helping her plan it.

As the party continued to go on you stood at the table, helping Abby’s aunts with making salads. It was odd, everything became more and more quiet.

You felt arms wrap around you and you knew it was her.

“Hi” you giggled

“hi” she replied. You could practically hear her smile.

“You having fun baby?” Abby asked.

“yeah”

You noticed her sudden silence before you asked: “are you ok?”

Abby took a deep breath. She was nervous. You could tell.

“Yeah, I’m just thinking”

“about?”

“I want this”

“Salad?”

“no” she chuckled. 

“A life with you”

Your heartrate increased.

“I want us to grow old together and throw family BBQ’s. I want us to have a big house, so Aubrey can bring her kids over one day. I want to spend forever waking up next to you, and I want to grow our family….”

During her speech you didn’t notice that she let go of you. You were too busy processing her words at that moment.

“Baby look at me” Abby spoke. You slowly turned around to see Abby’s family surrounding the two of you and her on her one knee, with a delicate ring in her hand.

“Will you marry me?” She asked unsure.

You looked at her with wide eyes, no words were coming out out.

“Say yes! please I can’t wait any longer” Aubrey yelled from the sidelines. You saw Abby chuckle.

You fell down onto your knees before you grabbed her face for a kiss.

“I guess that’s a yes” Abby chuckled when she pulled away.

“fuck yes”

She slipped the ring onto your finger before she got up and yelled “she said yes!” The crowd erupted in screams and cries.

☆ Milf Abby who kissed you passionately as tears flowed from both your eyes.

This was true love.

my pookie: (the tag list): @elliens4

write something abt gamer!Abby pls!!

Headcannons: gamer!abby anderson x reader

live footage of Abby, after dying in Valorant:

☆ Gamer Abby who worked two jobs at one point to be able to afford all the new games and set up.

☆ Gamer Abby who spent over 3000 dollars just to upgrade her pc.

☆ Gamer Abby who had everything in room because she wants to feel close to her games.

☆ Gamer Abby who felt embarrassed when you came over for the first time.

☆ Gamer Abby who apologizes for all the posters and stacks of games that littered her room.

“Why are you saying sorry?” you asked her, confused as you sat on her bed.

“This isn’t very sexy” she comments looking down at the floor.

“It is” you shrugged "everything you do is sexy Abs"

☆ Gamer Abby who memorizes all the lore to different games, and she tells you all about it, even though it sounds like gibberish to you.

“Wait what?”

“baby focus” Abby said with an annoyed tone.

“So Ellie is Joel’s daughter?”

“Oh my god don’t you listen?” Abby says dramatically.

“She isn’t his biological daughter babe” “oh.. so who’s Sarah then?”

All Abby could do was sigh.

☆ Gamer Abby who spends hours playing, but pauses her game when you send her a text.

☆ Gamer Abby who face times you while she’s playing, because she just wants to be with you.

☆ Gamer Abby who feels self-conscious when you are in her room when she plays.

☆ Gamer Abby who gets teased by her friends when they are all on a call.

“why are you so quiet Anderson?” she heard Mel ask through the headphones.

“Her girl is there, she doesn’t wanna scare her away” Nora says witch a chuckle.

☆ Gamer Abby who always feels like she talks too much about games, but falls in love with you all over again when you say: “its ok Abby, tell me about it”

☆ Gamer Abby who moves her gaming set up and posters into another room when you move in.

You walked into the room, the room that was once so colorful with games, was now empty. Naked.

“What the fuck Anderson?”

“I moved it all”

“yeah no shit… why would you do that?”

“this is our space now and I thought you know- we could… I don’t know decorate it together?” ☆ Gamer Abby who is wayyyyyy to good with her fingers, and she gets all shy when you mention something about it.

“What are you looking at?” Abby asked without taking her eyes off the screen you hummed before you simply answered “you”

You watched as Abby shook her head with a chuckle.

“I now see why you’re so good with your hands, these games are definitely teaching you something” you said with a wink and Abby almost pissed herself.

☆ Gamer Abby who uses cheesy game related pickup lines

“You must be as good as Yoshi with that tongue of yours” “Did you just cast aeroga on me? Because you swept me off my feet”

“You don't have to turn on a game to play with me”

“Nice pants! Mind if I loot them?” You never got the references but it always made you blush.

☆ Gamer Abby who almost cried when you gave her plushies from the games she was obsessed with at the time.

☆ Gamer Abby who tries teaching you how to play.

“C’mon baby it’s not that hard”

“Abby I keep dying”

“you’re dying because you aren’t focusing”

“Abby I don’t want to play anymore”

“please baby, for me?”

☆ Gamer Abby who almost combusts when you understood one of her references.

“What did you just say?”

“you said just look for the light that’s a the last of us reference, isn’t it?”

“Marry me” ☆ Gamer Abby who finds out you’ve been practicing her favorite games, and you learned the lore to surprise her.

☆ Gamer Abby who wakes you up at 3am because she was yelling at Nora for making her lose.

☆ Gamer Abby who begs you to play with her because she thinks it’s hot.

☆ Gamer Abby who was scared of being herself before she met you.

☆ Gamer Abby who wants to dress up as Mario and princess peach for Halloween.

☆ Gamer Abby who knew that you were the perfect girl when you let her decorate your shared room with a few posters.

☆ Gamer Abby who is really happy, being with you.

☆ Gamer Abby who could see the two of you getting old together. And she hoped when you were 73 one day, that you’d still be playing together

Headcannons: Milf!abby anderson x reader (part 2)

Part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

☆ Milf Abby who tries really hard to talk to you but you’re making it so fucking difficult.

☆ Milf Abby who tries calling, texting, literally all forms of communication but you leave her on read and you don’t even pick up.

☆ Milf Abby who’s frustrated but she knows she deserves it.

☆ Milf Abby who wakes up one morning to see you sent her a text.

With shaky hands she clicked on the message. The simple text read 4 words:

“me, you this Friday?”

Abby blinked, and she sat in silence for a while.

Holy shit this was happening.

She responded with a simple “ok ill pick you up at six”.

☆ Milf Abby who jumps up from her bed and yells “I got the girl!” But soon regrets it when Aubrey walks in and tells her to shut up.

☆ Milf Abby who was on cloud nine all week.

☆ Milf Abby who tells her coworkers about the pretty girl she’s going on a date with on Friday.

☆ Milf Abby who smiles at you, when she picks up Aubrey, and her heart feels like it could explode when you give her a little wave.

☆ Milf Abby who asks Aubrey what your favorite color is because she wants to wear an outfit in that color, because she read in an article it’ll increase her chances.

“C’mon baby tell me” Abby groaned.

“Give me chocolate first”

Abby’s jaw dropped.  “Aubrey its 9pm, you know you can’t eat chocolate at this time”

“No chocolate, no color”

Abby let out a sigh as she walked out of Aubrey’s room to her secret chocolate stash. She pulled out a chocolate bar, and she gave it to the little girl. Aubrey immediately opened the bar and she took a big bite.

“ok talk”

“she likes green” Aubrey spoke with a mouth full of chocolate.

☆ Milf Abby who takes her daughter to bed, and orders a custom suit in green.

☆ Milf Abby who goes to work the next day and finds out they hired someone new.

“Who is he?” she asked while looking at Nora.

“I don’t know man”

“as long as she doesn’t break my record”

Nora rolled her eyes “of course he won’t abs, you’ve won the most cases in this whole firm”

☆ Milf Abby who tenses when she sees who was hired.

☆ Milf Abby who felt sick when he walked towards her.

“hi I’m- “

“heaters dad”

“Yeah” he chuckled “my name is actually Jason”

“I’m Abby”

The air was tense.

“what do you want dude” Abby said irritated.

“Look are you and the new teacher together?” He asked. Abby felt her eye twitch at his question.

“It’s none of your business”

☆ Milf Abby who thought her week was ruined, but when she got home her suit had arrived.

☆ Milf Abby who almost pees herself on Friday morning because today is the day.

☆ Milf Abby who takes the day off to get away from Jason and to relax.

☆ Milf Abby who spends hours on Pintrest to look for the perfect hairstyle.

☆ Milf Abby who’s ready by 3 in the afternoon.

☆ Milf Abby who asks Aubrey and her dad how she looks before she walks out.

“So how do I look?” she watched her dad smile at her.

“you look perfect Abby”

“now go get your girl!” she heard Aubrey yell.

☆ Milf Abby who made you a bracelet, and flowers out of paper.

☆ Milf Abby who sees Jason’s car outside the school.

☆ Milf Abby whose heart shatters when she hears your conversation.

“I’m going on a date with Abby” she heard your voice.

“Isn’t she too old for you? She’s in her 40s isn’t she?”

“what does age have to with anything?”

“she’s old”

yeah she was.

fuck, Abby knew too old. She didn’t even stay to listen to the conversation.

Abby ran out the school and she sobbed in her car. She should’ve know this would never work.

If only she stayed behind to hear how you defended her. If only she waited for you.

☆ Milf Abby who came home crying.

“Mommy what’s wrong- “Abby walked right past her daughter

“it’s ok let her go” she heard her dad say.

☆ Milf Abby who fell asleep crying.

☆ Milf Abby who wakes up with multiple texts from you.

“Hey where are you?”

“Abby?”

“are you ok?”

“I’m waiting for you”

“I’m home now”

“did you change your mind”

“Abby?”

With a shaky breath Abby blocked your number.

☆ Milf Abby who ignores your existence once again.

☆ Milf Abby who sees you smiling at her, but she just nods back at you.

☆ Milf Abby who tells you have no future together.

Aubrey climbed into the car, and before Abby could drive away she heard a knock on her window. It was you.

“Hey” Abby said after lowering the window.

“Hi Abby- “

“call me Mrs. Anderson” she watched as your face dropped.

You cleared your throat “I’m sorry Mrs. Anderson, I just wanted to ask what happened the other night?”

“I realized that this wasn’t going to work”

“why?”

“because you’re too young. I need someone more mature”

“Oh”

Abby could feel the sadness radiating off you.

“You should go for someone your own age”

“Ok Mrs. Anderson, I understand. Thank you for your time”

☆ Milf Abby who feels bad after her daughter calls her stupid.

☆ Milf Abby who makes a realization by the help of her daughter.

“You made my teacher sad”

“Aubrey I don’t care stop telling me- “

“you do care. I see the way you look at her” Abby sighed at her daughter’s answers.

She does care. She downloaded social media to stalk you. She stared learning internet slang for you.

“Heathers dad said that he wants to ask her on a date-”

“what?”

“I heard him say that he’s going to ask her out but then I said no because you wanted to go on a date with her”

Then it clicked.

He was there that day to cause trouble.

fuck.

He wanted to get into Abby’s head. And he did. He started working at Abby’s law firm to watch her. To figure out her moves. Her weaknesses.

He must’ve heard her and Nora talk about the age gap. She made a mistake.

☆ Milf Abby who runs to unblock your number and calls you.

☆ Milf Abby who felt like she could cry when you didn’t pick up.

☆ Milf Abby who whimpers your name when you eventually pick up the phone.

“what do you want Mrs. Anderson?”

“No look I made a mistake, please listen- “

“you can’t keep doing this….You say you like me then you ghost me- I’m sick of your shit Abby”

“look I heard Jason say that you deserve someone younger- “

“well maybe I do”

Abby went quite at that.

You spoke up again: “I need someone who’s mature, someone who can communicate but what do I know Abby I’m immature, am I not? Because apparently you know what that maturity means”

“Please” she sighed.

“Please I’m begging you” Abby begged again.

The line went quite for a while.

“Come to my class tomorrow so we can talk”

☆ Milf Abby who goes to work the next day and she goes to Jason’s office.

☆ Milf Abby who confronts him, and almost beats the shit out of him when he calls her a grandma.

☆ Milf Abby who gets into trouble but it was worth it.

☆ Milf Abby who goes to your class later that day.

She watched as you sat behind your desk. “Sit” you commanded and she did.

☆ Milf Abby who tells you the whole story.

“sorry won’t cut it Abby, you said the same thing the last time”

“Just because he said that doesn’t mean you have the right to ghost me”

“I’m sorry”

“Look just one more chance please”

“why should I trust you?”

“because I’m me”

You rolled your eyes at Abby’s response.

Abby reached out to grab your head, and your head snapped in the direction of you interlocked fingers.

“words mean nothing” you spoke.

“just trust me please and-” but before she could finish you leaned in to kiss her.

It was slow, passionate, and it was filled with so much love. Abby pulled away, only to get up and walk to side of the desk where you sat. She went on knees and she and put her hands on your waist. The two of you started at each other.

“Fuck” she breathed before you kissed her again.

☆ Milf Abby who jumps up when she heard Aubrey yell “ew!”

☆ Milf Abby who was really embarrassed.

☆ Milf Abby who turned as red as a tomato, she felt like a teenager being caught in the act.

“Why did you go on your knees?” you asked, still heavily breathing.

“it’s a way of showing submission” she shrugs.

“I’m trying to show you that you have me, despite our age difference” Abby explained.

“I’d let you do anything to me” she confessed.

☆ Milf Abby who goes home that night and smile the whole time.

☆ Milf Abby who keeps touching her lips, because yours were there.

☆ Milf Abby who apologizes to Aubrey for seeing such an act.

“It’s ok” the little girl reassured her.

“Now go get her before Heathers dad does”

☆ Milf Abby who shows up to school the next day to bring you lunch.

☆ Milf Abby who spells out the words “May i be your girlfriend?” with different fruit in the lunch box. All you did was smile at the sight.

☆ Milf Abby who was chewing her nails, waiting for your response.

“This is very romantic Anderson” you spoke. She watched as you but the lunch box on the table, you walked towards her.

“Get on your knees Abby” and she did so immediately.

“Why?” she asked while being on her knees.

“you’re too tall, I can’t kiss you when you’re standing”

The two of you shared a quick kiss.

“So is it a yes?” Abby asked, her lips inches away from yours.

“Yeah”

“Fuck yes” she breathed as she got up, picking you up and placing you on your desk. The two of you shared another kiss before you pulled away.

“Promise me something”

“What?”

“No more ghosting”

“yes ma’am”

“you’ll tell me if you feel insecure”

“yes”

“and one more thing Abby”

“what?”

“you aren’t too old for me. I like my women mature” you added as you wrapped your arms around her neck. Abby chuckled.

☆ Milf Abby who wanted to kiss you again before she heard your daughter yell “fucking finally” as she stood at the door.

“Who taught you that word?”

“grandpa did”

“of course he did”

☆ Milf Abby who was the happiest women ever, since that moment.

☆ Milf Abby who knew you were the one.

☆ Milf Abby who already goes wedding ring shopping and who plans your future together despite only dating you for 2 days at that point.  

My pookies (the tag list): @mousymaven @lia-winther @zombholic

Can we please get some milf Abby or Ellie the lesbians who like older women are in a drought

💘

Headcannons: milf!abby anderson x reader

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

☆ Milf Abby who was divorced and who had full custody of her 4-year-old daughter.

☆ Milf Abby who worked as a lawyer and got her daughter into the best schools.

☆ Milf Abby who went to a parent teacher meeting, to meet her daughters’ new teacher.

☆ Milf Abby who met you for the first time and thought you were the prettiest thing she’d ever seen.

☆ Milf Abby who stood behind everyone else because you made her shy.

☆ Milf Abby whose palms felt sweaty when you walked close to the direction where she was standing.

☆ Milf Abby whose heart rate increased when you asked the parents “any questions?” with a smile.

☆ Milf Abby who went home that night and stared at the ceiling because she just saw an angel.

☆ Milf Abby who asks her daughter about you the next morning.

“What’s she like?” Abby asked as she placed the plate of scrambled eggs in front of Aubrey.

“she’s nice” the little girl started. “she always likes my drawings, and she tells funny stories!”

A small smile appeared on Abby’s face.

Pretty and funny, huh?

“she’s pretty too” Aubrey said with her mouth full off eggs. Abby chuckled at that.

“Your right baby, she is”

☆ Milf Abby who almost shit herself when Aubrey told you that she finds you pretty.

“You did what?” Abby said frantically.

“I told my teacher that you said she was pretty”

Abby groaned, her large hand coming to rub her temples.

“Baby you aren’t supposed to tell that to people, it was a secret”

“Yeah, it was red ones”

“But Heathers dad brought her flowers, and that’s not a secret”

“what?”

“roses?”

“I think so” she spoke

☆ Milf Abby who gets jealous even though she barley knows anything about you.

☆ Milf Abby who watches Heathers dad bring you snacks almost daily when she picks up Aubrey.

☆ Milf Abby who wants to vomit every time you smile at him.

☆ Milf Abby who realizes she had to make a move.

☆ Milf Abby who was nervous because it’s been a while since she’s asked someone on a date.

☆ Milf Abby who writes you a letter and sends it with her daughter.

“My mommy sent you this” Aubrey ran to you with a white envelope. You thanked her, as you opened the letter, eyes widening at what it had to say:

“Hi, are you Tennessee because you’re the only ten I see.

I’m sorry I know that was inappropriate I didn’t know what to say.

Would you like to go on a date with me? I promise no cheesy pickup lines”

☆ Milf Abby who almost jumps out of her car when she sees you walking towards her.

☆ Milf Abby who rolls down the window and tries to act cool.

“Sup” she said, but soon cringed.

You giggled “I’d love to go on a date with you Miss Anderson”

“Call me Abby”

“Abby… I’d love to go out with you”

A grin spread onto the blondes face.

“Friday?”

“Friday”

☆ Milf Abby who fist bumps the air because she’s just that excited.

☆ Milf Abby who almost cancelled because she was so nervous.

☆ Milf Abby who asks her 4-year-old outfit advice.

“What about this?”

“No”

“Aubrey you can’t keep saying no”

“But I don’t like it”

☆ Milf Abby who kisses her daughter goodbye as she bought you a bigger bouquet of roses.

☆ Milf Abby who takes you to a fancy restaurant to impress you.

☆ Milf Abby who finds out you were 20 years younger than her.

Abby blinked a couple of times at the information.

“26?”

“yeah… do I not look my age you?” you asked with a raised eyebrow.

“You really don’t”

☆ Milf Abby who enjoys the date more than she intended to.

☆ Milf Abby who almost combusts when you gave her a kiss on the cheek.

☆ Milf Abby who goes home that night in denial that she liked someone so young.

Age is nothing but a number, but you were years younger. What were you doing with someone like her? Why her? Why not someone your age? What happens if Abby grows so old that you become bored?

☆ Milf Abby who ghosts you for 5 months.

☆ Milf Abby who avoids looking at you when she gets her daughter from school.

☆ Milf Abby who ignores your texts because she thought you deserve someone better.

☆ Milf Abby’s daughter who gave her an awaking.

“Can you stop crying at night mommy? It makes noise”

Abby looked up from the stove.

“you hear that?”

“Yes”

A few seconds of silence passed before Aubrey spoke again. “You made my teacher sad”

“she’s sad?”

“yes and she asked me about you”

“and what did you say?”

“Nothing, you said it was a secret” Abby groaned at Aubrey’s response

“you need to stop pushing people away because you’re insecure”

Abby looked at Aubrey with wide eyes.

She was right, because Abby was so insecure she’s losing a perfect girl because she was scared. How sure was she that you would leave her? How sure was she that you were only using her? Maybe you were the one.

“Where did you hear those words?”

“from grandpa” she said with a shoulder shrug.

“He said that to Nora”

Your back was facing the door as you were writing something on the board.

“of course he did”

☆ Milf Abby who goes to your classroom the next day with flowers.

“I’m sorry” she spoke. She watched you flinched as you turned around.

“what?”

“I’m sorry for just disappearing and not saying anything”

“ok” was all you said as you turned back around to continue writing.

Abby walked towards you with long strides.

“no- no don’t say ok please- give me a chance”

she watched you sigh as you turned around:

“look Miss Anderson-“

“Abby”

“Miss Anderson” you said through gritted teeth.

“It’s ok, this should have not happened”

“Don’t say that”

“Let’s move on, I’ll pretend this never happened” you said with a fake smile on your face.

“god you’re so-“  before Abby could even finish her sentence she grabbed your face, and caught your lips in a kiss.

☆ Milf Abby who was surprised when you kissed her back.

☆ Milf Abby who whimpered when you pulled away.

“What can I do to fix this?” she spoke as she held your face.

“take me out on a date again”

a smile spread on the blondes face: “yeah I’ll do that”

☆ Milf Abby who realizes you won’t make it easy for her.

☆ Milf Abby who was willing to work for this relationship because you were worth it.

omg smut with wife!abby or new mom!abby as a new part to your pregnant partner au pleaseee

your writing is gorg 💍💍

abby x reader smut | modern au

pussydrunk!abby | wife!abby | mom!abby | mdni pls

It was late. Quiet.

The baby had finally gone down after a long, fussy stretch for the first time in what felt like days. It was one of those nights where every creak of the floor threatened to undo hours of careful rocking. The apartment was still, bathed in the soft amber of a hallway nightlight, baby monitor low and steady, nothing but the soft hush of late-night calm as I had finished washing my face and stepped quietly into our room.

Abby was already in bed, lying on her side, one arm curled under her pillow, hair still damp from the quickest shower of her life. She looked up when I entered - and something in her eyes softened. Like the tension in her shoulders eased just from seeing me.

I stood in the doorway, backlit by the warm glow of the bathroom light. My dark hair was brushed out, wavy and still a little damp, wearing a sheer robe, barely tied. Beneath it, a bralette and matching lace underwear, delicate and pretty and nothing like the loose layers I'd been living in. My midriff peeked through the soft fabric, skin warm from the shower, still marked by everything I’d been through - but glowing. I looked at Abby like I was waiting for her to say something.

Abby opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

"She’s asleep." I mumbled, stepping forward, one hand lightly holding the edge of the robe.

"For now," Abby murmured. But her voice was quiet. Almost wistful. She let out a breath. "You're-" She stood up, slowly, like approaching something sacred. "Jesus, babe..."

"I thought maybe..." I hesitated, suddenly unsure. "We could just... be close. If you want."

"If?" Abby crossed the room in three steps and cupped my face in her hands. "I've wanted you every day since the minute she was born. But you've been healing. And I didn't want to-"

"I'm ready," I whispered. My eyes were soft, shimmering with nervous anticipation. "I missed you."

Abby leaned in for a kiss— carefully at first. Not hesitant, just gentle. Like she was afraid I might break if she held on too tight. But I leaned into her, hands sliding under Abby's tank top, palm flat against the firm warmth of her stomach.

Abby let out a sound she didn't realize she was holding back. A low, helpless noise, born from days and weeks of touching each other only in passing— quick grazes, a shared blanket, a forehead kiss before one of us stumbled off to soothe a cry.

Now, she had me here. All of me. And she didn't want to rush a second of it. Her hands found my waist, her thumbs brushing over the soft swell of my hips, the gentle curve of my stomach, the place our daughter had grown. And for a moment, Abby just held me there, forehead to forehead, breathing.

"You're so beautiful," Abby said, voice thick. "I don't even know how to tell you how much I-"

I kissed her again, deeper this time, and Abby felt herself fall. Her hands slipped under the robe, tracing my back, adoringly slow.

Abby's eyes stayed locked on mine as I guided her to the bed. The sheer robe sliding off my shoulders and onto the floor like mist, leaving nothing but soft lace and warm skin in its place.

I sat back against the pillows, legs folded beneath me, the bralette clinging lightly to the curve of my breasts, lace framing the swell of my hips— and Abby just stared. Not in a hungry way. In an admiring, aching one. Because I had always been beautiful to her, but now, there was something even more profound. Something that made Abby want to fall to her knees.

She climbed onto the bed slowly, like she was afraid of breaking the moment. She slid her hands beneath the bralette and slowly lifted it over my head, revealing my soft, full chest which had changed slightly since the baby, tender in ways it hadn't been before. Abby's breath hitched. Every inch of skin revealed was like a rediscovery, familiar and new all at once.

My body had been a machine these last few months: lifting, feeding, rocking, enduring. I’d stopped seeing myself as someone touchable. But in Abby’s hands, I felt wanted. Not just needed.

Her fingers brushed over the curves with impossible gentleness, as if she were afraid to touch too hard. "You're... fuck, you're gorgeous," she whispered. She bent to kiss the inside of one breast, then the other, her lips trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses. "I've missed touching you."

My head tipped back as my breath shivered out. "Then touch me."

Abby didn't need to be told twice. She took her time, smoothing her palms down my sides, feeling the new softness of my stomach, the slight give beneath her fingertips. Her lips brushed every new mark, every changed place, not out of pity or reassurance, but awe. Because my body had done something extraordinary. And it was still completely hers. "This... this is where she grew," she said quietly, kissing just above my navel. "You did something incredible. And you're still the most beautiful thing l've ever seen."

I let out a soft sound— quiet, breaking, like it cracked something open in me. My thighs shifted, opening slightly, and Abby moved down, easing my underwear off inch by inch. She didn't rush, didn't dive in like she was desperate. Instead, she kissed her way down my thighs, her hands cradling them like they were something sacred.

When she finally pressed her mouth between them, I gasped. Not from surprise, but from how slow Abby was, how intentional. Every flick of her tongue, every pause to breathe against me, was wrapped in devotion. She wanted me to feel worshipped. To feel loved in the most tangible way possible. And I did — my body arched toward her, breath coming in soft, desperate gasps as Abby worked me open with nothing but her mouth and hands, murmuring things between kisses: "You're perfect." "I missed the way you taste." "I love how soft you are."

"You feel so good," I whispered, nails curling gently at Abby's back.

"I want you to remember this," Abby murmured, her voice unsteady. "That you're still you. You're still mine. You're everything."

When I came, I did so with a whimper and Abby's name on my lips, hips trembling, thighs tightening around her shoulders like I didn't want to let her go. Abby held me through it, slowing only once I had sagged back into the pillows, eyes half-lidded, lips parted in stunned silence. She crawled up beside me, pulling me into her arms, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. "You're everything to me," she whispered. "I've never been more in love with you," she whispered. "Not even close."

I reached down, threading our fingers together over my heart. "I didn't think I could love you more. But then I watched you become her mom. And now it feels like there's not enough space in my chest."

Abby didn't answer at first. She just held on tighter. Then she whispered, "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Both of you."

We kissed again, deeper this time — the kind of kiss that said, I'm still here. I'm still yours. My hand slipped under Abby's shirt, feeling the taut muscle of her back flex beneath my fingers. I didn't say anything, but Abby could feel my intent in the way I shifted — the way my thigh slid between hers, the way my hand curled behind her neck and pulled her closer. When Abby guided my hand between her own legs, I touched her like she was made of glass, and I finally understood exactly how much Abby had needed me.

Abby let her shirt be tugged up and over her head, not bothering to hide the sharp little intake of breath that escaped her when my hands touched bare skin. It wasn't rushed - it was slow, deliberate. My fingertips mapped the lines of Abby's body like they were familiar and brand new all at once: over the swell of her shoulder, down the valley between her breasts, across her stomach where muscle tensed under touch.

"You've been doing all the heavy lifting," I whispered, my voice low and intimate. "Let me take care of you."

Abby swallowed, not trusting herself to speak, just nodded and let herself sink into the feeling of being seen.

I kissed her collarbone first— then the spot just under her jaw, then the hollow of her throat. My mouth was warm, slow, loving. I shifted us gently so Abby was flat on her back, thighs spread slightly with me nestled between them, pressing soft kisses along her sternum, her ribs, the inside of her arms. My hands framed Abby's waist like they belonged there.

And when I finally slid my hand down between Abby's thighs, it was with exquisite care. "You're already soaked," I whispered, my breath brushing Abby's ear.

Abby's eyes fluttered shut. "Been like that since you walked in."

I let out a breath of laughter, but my touch was anything but teasing. I took my time, fingers stroking gently, parting her with practiced ease. Abby's breath hitched. Her hips arched slightly, but she didn't push, she let me lead.

I curled my fingers just right, slow and sure, and Abby let her head fall back with a low moan.

"Right there?" I asked, mouth brushing her cheek.

“God… yeah. Just don’t stop.”

I didn't. I kissed Abby's shoulder while my fingers kept working, each stroke slow and purposeful, the rhythm steady. My free hand laced with Abby's and pinned it gently beside her head, our rings brushing against each other.

When Abby came, she did so with a quiet, broken sound, her muscles tightening, breath catching in her throat, body shuddering under the weight of it. I didn't let go until the tremors had passed. Then I kissed her softly, until her breathing slowed and her body relaxed completely into mine.

We lay there for a while, warm and quiet, legs tangled together under the sheets, the weight of the night still wrapped around us like a second skin. Abby's hand idly stroked my side, fingertips tracing every curve and dip, memorizing me again.

Abby's fingers found the softest stretch of skin on my waist and traced over it slowly, admiringly.

I shifted slightly, stretching with a soft hum against Abby's chest. "You're staring."

"I am," Abby said, no shame in her voice. "Can't help it."

I turned her face upward, a teasing smile curving my lips. "You already had me once tonight."

Abby looked down at me, eyes dark but warm. "Once isn't enough."

I opened my mouth to respond — but the words got caught in my throat when Abby leaned down and kissed me slowly. There was no urgency in it now, just something molten and patient, like she had all the time in the world and wanted to spend every second on me. When Abby rolled us gently, guiding me onto her back again, there was something admiring in the way she looked at me - like I was something sacred.

I smiled faintly, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Greedy."

"You love it."

"I do."

She kissed her way down my chest, lips brushing softly over each breast, taking her time with the curves, the softness. Her hands slid along my thighs, coaxing them apart slowly, and my breath hitched in anticipation.

Abby paused, her mouth hovering just above my center, eyes flicking up. "Okay?"

I nodded, voice gone. "Yes."

Abby took her time. She started slow — just a soft, open-mouthed kiss, then her tongue followed, languid and purposeful, tracing long, deliberate strokes that made my hips twitch. Abby's hands gripped my thighs, keeping me steady but never forceful, grounding me.

I moaned softly, one hand sliding into Abby's hair, my fingers curling there as Abby buried herself deeper, her tongue moving with precision and devotion. She didn't rush— she savored it, changing rhythm only to keep me right at that edge, never letting me fall too quickly.

"You taste so good," Abby murmured between strokes, her voice low and rough. "I could stay here all night."

I whined, not from the words, but from the way Abby said them, like she meant it with her whole soul. I writhed under her, my thighs beginning to tremble from how slowly the tension built.

Abby flattened her tongue and pressed in deeper, drawing out a sound from me that was almost a cry. Her lips sealed over my clit again, sucking gently before teasing again with the soft tip of her tongue. I arched, body tense and wanting. "I can't," I whispered. "Abby-please-"

"Shh," Abby said, her voice gentle, almost amused. "I've got you."

She kept going until I was coming again, my body quaking under Abby's mouth, back arched, fingers pulling tightly in her hair as I came with a sound that felt pulled from somewhere deep.

I was still catching my breath, eyes half-lidded, chest rising and falling in slow waves — but Abby wasn't done. She hovered above me, eyes dark with something deeper now - not urgency, not just desire, but need. The kind that came from somewhere rooted. She leaned in again and kissed my inner thigh, then lower, just once - soft, adoring. She looked up through her lashes, gaze soft and still heavy with want. My chest was rising and falling in slow waves, the flushed skin along my sternum dotted with faint kisses Abby had left behind. Her hair was messy, lips swollen, eyes glassy.

My breath hitched. "Abby-"

"I know," Abby whispered, already easing her fingers gently along my slick skin again. "I know. Just one more. Let me."

My hand found her shoulder — I could've said no, could've tugged her back up — but I didn't. I let her. My legs parted instinctively, my body answering before my words could.

Abby dipped down again and this time, there was a different rhythm. Not rushed, still gentle, but hungry. Her tongue moved with more pressure now, sliding through the wet heat and circling my clit in slow, perfect strokes. She didn't tease— she worshipped. Devoted.

My body responded immediately, thighs already trembling again. I tried to stay quiet— I always tried, but Abby knew me. Knew exactly how to coax the sounds out of me. The way she sealed her mouth and sucked gently, the firm, deep rhythm of her tongue, the heat of her breath against already sensitive skin - it was too much.

"Abby-fuck, I-" my voice broke as my hips jerked, overstimulated but still craving more.

She didn't stop. She pressed her palms to my thighs, holding me open, steadying me as her mouth kept moving. Her eyes flicked up briefly and she saw my head thrown back, hair damp against the pillow, lips parted in disbelief. And it broke something open in her. She let out a low groan into, the sound vibrating through my core. "You're so fucking perfect."

And then I was gone, falling apart beneath her for the third time, legs shaking violently as another orgasm tore through me, more intense than the last. I cried out, high and broken, hands fisting in the sheets, the sound half lost in a gasp that bordered on a sob.

Abby didn’t stop right away, only pulling back when my body jerked with every touch, breath coming in shallow pants, eyes brimming with tears from the sheer overwhelm of it. She crawled up slowly, carefully, and kissed my shoulder, my neck, my cheek — lips soft, hand gentle against my flushed skin, easing me back down with tender kisses.

"You're okay," she whispered, brushing damp hair back from my face. "You're okay. I've got you."

I let out a breath that turned into a laugh - small, dazed, a little shaky. "I think you killed me."

Abby smiled, brushing her thumb across my cheek. "You're still breathing. Barely."

I curled into her, body limp and spent, my limbs draped over Abby like I didn't want to let go.

Abby pressed a kiss to my temple. "You didn't see yourself. You looked... gone."

My lips curved sleepily. "| was. You ruined me."

Abby's smile deepened, her voice softening. "Good. That's the goal."

We stayed wrapped up in each other, skin on skin, every breath synced as our pulses slowed again. And even in the silence, Abby couldn't stop touching— tracing the lines of my hips, the softness of my stomach, the stretch marks I barely noticed but Abby loved.

"You're beautiful," she whispered again, her voice rough with emotion.

I turned my head and nuzzled into her shoulder. "You really think so?"

"I know so." Abby cupped my jaw, guiding my eyes back up. "You carried our daughter. You're stronger than l've ever been. And l've never loved you more than I do now."

A quiet smile ghosted across my lips. "I love you too. Even when you hog the blankets."

Abby snorted. "It was one time-"

"It's every night," I laughed, kissing her again, a little smug now.

Abby rolled us gently, just enough to wrap me fully in her arms. "Whatever."

I tucked my face into Abby's neck, content as she listened to me breathe, letting myself feel all of it. The love, the exhaustion, the return to my own skin. The way Abby never let me forget who I was. And for the first time in weeks, we didn't listen for the baby.

thank you my love!! sorry this took me a minute to get back to, it’s finals week but i swear a proper part 3 is coming, here’s a little smutty little part 2.5 if you will ᡣ𐭩

more smut here and previous chapter of this fic here

this isn’t entirely proofread because i’m half awake so forgive any errors, i’ll come back and edit later if needed

abby anderson x reader smut 𐙚

soft!abby / switch!abby x fem!reader /afab

cw: nsfw, slow lesbian sex, spitting, ✄

-mdni pls! 18+

・—— ・ ୨୧ ・—— ・ ・—— ・ ୨୧ ・—— ・

The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a bedside lamp. Outside, it had started to rain— light and steady, a soothing hush against the windows. The air in Abby's room felt thick with something unspoken— anticipation, yes, but more than that, trust. The soft patter of rain against the windows filled the space, a quiet rhythm that seemed to echo the thrum of your heart.

You were curled beside Abby in bed, wearing one of her old shirts with one leg tucked over hers, your hand resting gently on her bare stomach. Your touch lingered there, unmoving, like you were trying to ground yourself. Abby laid beside you, leaning forward to kiss your forehead, then your cheek, and finally your lips — slow and gentle, like you had all the time in the world. Her hands framed your jaw as she deepened the kiss just slightly, savoring the feeling.

Abby didn't push. She never did. Every kiss was patient. Every touch asked for permission. She never took what you didn't offer freely.

"I want you," you whispered. Your voice trembled, but not with fear — with emotion. "All of me... it's yours. If you want it."

Abby nodded slowly, then leaned in to press a kiss to your temple - no rush, no pressure, just the press of lips that said I'm here, as she reached up to gently tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

When your mouths met, it was soft. Exploratory. Not hungry, but intentional. Abby kissed you like a promise, like she had all the time in the world. No expectations, just warmth. You melted into it, hands sliding up Abby's shoulders, drawing her closer, breathing her in— that familiar scent of pine and rain and something uniquely Abby. It calmed your nerves like nothing else.

Abby's thumb brushed gently over your cheekbone, her hand cupping the side of your face. The warmth of her touch alone made your eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed not by fear, but by how safe you felt. Abby leaned in, kissing you softly, lips brushing yours with affection, no rush behind it— just patience, and presence.

"You don't have to be nervous," Abby whispered, her breath warm against your mouth. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I know," you said, a little breathless.

Abby's voice was low, near a whisper. "I just wanna love you the right way."

And she did. She kissed every part of you she was allowed to— your collarbone, the curve of your shoulder, the soft dip beneath your ear. Each touch was patient, asked for with quiet looks, and granted with shy nods. Your breath would hitch, then settle, each time you gave permission. Your skin warmed under Abby's hands, softening beneath her like you were unfolding for the first time in years.

There was no fumbling, no rush. Just soft sighs and shivery exhales. Abby traced slow, careful paths across your skin— nothing more than the pads of her fingers, and sometimes her mouth, learning what made you relax, what made you laugh a little, what made your eyelids flutter shut with a tremble of trust. She cradled your face like something precious, her thumbs stroking soft arcs against your cheeks.

Her touch was full of intention— adoration, unhurried. She didn't rush past the layers. She traced your skin with her hands and her lips, memorizing the soft parts of you, the scar beneath your ribs, the slope of your hip, the tiny mole behind your knee. She kissed your thighs and told you you were beautiful. She whispered, "Tell me what you need.”

Abby guided you down against the pillows, climbing over you carefully, legs tangling as you laid back. Her hands never roaming without permission, every touch was intentional, soft, grounding. She kissed along your throat, your collarbone, the edge of your shoulder, feeling your breath stutter beneath her.

She whispered as she went, anchoring you with her words. "You're safe. You're mine. You're beautiful."

Your fingers clutched gently at Abby's sides, your body humming with nerves and anticipation, but not fear. There was something tender in the way you looked up at Abby— wide open, no defenses left.

Abby took her time, kissing you slowly as her hand trailed downward, slipping her hand under the hem of your shirt, pausing. "Can I?"

You nodded, cheeks flushed, voice barely audible. "Yes. Please."

Abby pushed the fabric up inch by inch, revealing smooth skin and the subtle rise and fall of your chest. She took a moment just to look at you — the flushed pink in your cheeks, the nerves in your eyes. She leaned down and pressed a kiss between your breasts, then over the swell of one, her hand resting lightly just below.

Her hand moved lower, fingers brushing along your stomach before settling between your thighs. She paused again, waiting for the nod, the quiet, "Yes," that you gave her. A soft gasp left you as she touched you, your back arching slightly, legs parting to invite her in.

Abby kissed you again as she slid her fingers down and found you already warm, aching, ready. Gently, she traced against your skin, just the lightest touch, until your hips tipped forward instinctively. She kissed you through it, tongue slipping into your mouth in a slow, careful rhythm that matched the movement of her hand.

You whimpered softly when Abby slipped a finger inside— slow, smooth, filling you just enough to make your breath hitch. Abby kept it gentle, curling her finger as she kissed the curve of your throat, your jaw, your lips again. She added a second finger when you asked for it, her other hand cradling your cheek like you were something precious.

Abby took her time. She whispered how good you were doing, how beautiful you looked, how proud she was of you. Her fingers were gentle but sure, moving with a rhythm that gradually built as she listened to your breath, your little gasps, the shaky way you whispered her name.

"You feel so good," Abby whispered, voice low, lips brushing your ear. "You're doing so well, baby."

You body tensed for a moment — but Abby kissed you just then, slow and anchoring, and you relaxed into it, into her. You let your head fall back against the pillow, thighs parting wider on their own, and let yourself feel.

Your voice was breathy, barely there. "Don't stop."

Abby didn't. She reached one hand between them to tilt your chin up, thumb brushing over your lower lip.

"Open your mouth for me," she said, voice husky.

Your lips parted. Abby held your gaze, then let a slow stream of spit fall onto your tongue. You whimpered, eyes fluttering closed, heat rushing through you as you swallowed.

She moved her fingers with a patient rhythm, listening to every sound you made — the quiet moan, the stuttered breath, the way your hips rolled into her touch. When her thumb brushed against your clit you gasped, your hand grabbing at Abby's forearm.

"Shh, I've got you," Abby whispered, kissing you again, "Come on, sweetheart. Let go for me."

You were trembling now, hips moving without thought, chasing it. Abby pressed her forehead to yours as she brought you higher, never once breaking contact, grounding you every second. You came with a soft cry, legs trembling, body arching beneath Abby as pleasure crested through you — not sharp or overwhelming, but deep, slow and controlled. You curled into Abby's arms immediately after, face buried in her neck like you never wanted to let go.

When it passed, Abby kissed your forehead, brushing sweaty hair from your face. "You okay?" she asked, voice low, eyes searching.

You nodded, smiling as you tried to catch your breath. "I didn't know I could feel safe like that. I didn't know sex could... feel like that."

Abby leaned in, nose brushing yours. "It's not just sex. It's us." She held you, arms wrapped around you, letting you melt into her chest.

When you finally stirred, cheeks still pink, voice a little shy, you whispered, "Lie down. Let me touch you, too."

"You don't have to-"

"I want to," you said, with just a touch of certainty in your voice now. "Let me take care of you."

Abby lay back as you curled beside her, tracing fingers down her ribs, her stomach, watching every reaction with quiet care. It was slower still, more exploratory, but filled with just as much intention. Offering her trust back, not only in words, but through every soft kiss, every shaky breath, and every time you whispered, "I want to make you feel safe too."

You shifted her gently, laying Abby back against the pillows, slowly moving over her, hands skimming across her warm, freckled skin, every muscle relaxed, open, steady. Her breath caught when you kissed along her collarbone, teeth grazing gently before your tongue soothed the spot. Taking your time, memorizing everything, brushing your mouth over Abby's throat, the swell of her chest, the strong lines of her stomach. Your hands were mindful, always watching for even the smallest change in Abby's breathing, the smallest flutter in her eyes.

When you finally slipped your fingers between her thighs, your touch was delicate, achingly gentle— learning what Abby liked, what made her shift, what made her sigh your name. She let out a breathy, soft sigh, her fingers tightening in your hair. She wasn't used to being the one held like this, touched like this, like she was precious. But you gave her that, slow and purposeful, lips and hands moving with a kind of gentleness she hadn't been shown before.

You moved with a rhythm that wasn't rushed, intentional, syncing your own breath to Abby's as you eased in slowly, curling your fingers and finding that spot that made Abby's hips twitch. Abby let out a breathy moan, one arm thrown over her eyes as if the feeling was too much as you kissed her shoulder and whispered, "I've got you.” Your mouth was never far from Abby's skin — murmuring things you weren’t brave enough to say in the light of day. I love you. You're safe. You deserve this.

And you meant it. When Abby came, it was quiet and deep — her body arching up, breath stuttering, your name on her lips like a prayer. Abby's breath caught, hips twitching up as she came undone beneath her, voice catching on a low, "Fuck, baby-"

You kissed the edge of her hip as you slowed your movements, not pulling away until Abby was completely spent beneath her. You crawled back up, draping yourself carefully across Abby's chest, heart thudding in tandem with hers. Abby's arms immediately wrapped around you, holding you close.

You stayed like that for a while, silent, breathing together. And then you pressed a kiss to the middle of her chest, eyes fluttering shut. "You make me feel safe," you said softly.

Abby kissed your hair. "You are safe."

And for the first time in a long time, you believed it. Wrapped up in each other, hearts exposed and unguarded, you found something neither of you thought you’d ever get to have— healing that telt like love.

The sheets were a mess. You laid sprawled and breathless, skin flushed and still tingling from the way Abby had taken you apart. But your eyes never left Abby's face - her flushed cheeks, the wild strands of hair stuck to her forehead, the slight tremble in her arms.

You eached out and brushed your knuckles down Abby's stomach. "Again?"

Abby gave a lazy, crooked smirk, like she was going to argue, always hesitant, always putting you first.

But you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her jaw as you pushed yourself up and gently straddled one of Abby's thighs, easing the other between your own. Your bodies slotted together easily, slick heat meeting slick heat, thighs sliding into place with instinctual precision. The contact was immediate— teasing, electric.

Abby's eyes darkened. "Fuck," she murmured, already shifting to grind back against you. "You're soaked."

"So are you." you leaned in and kissed her, deeper now, slower, one hand cupping the side of her neck, the other holding her hip steady.

She started slow, rocking her hips forward, letting their bodies slide together in a messy, wet rhythm that made them both gasp. Your hand clenched at the sheets, your other gripping Abby’s thigh. She looked up at you like she was in awe — like you’d hung the moon and were now crashing it directly into her.

Your hips moved in tandem, slow and grinding, the friction delicious — slippery, messy, intimate. Every shift of your bodies drew a new gasp, a new moan, a new wave of sensation as your clits slid and rubbed with increasing pressure.

You kept your eyes on Abby's, your voice a low whisper between gasps. "You feel so good against me, babe."

Abby's lips parted around a moan, her head tipping back as her legs spread wider, instinctively trying to give more. Your clits met again and again with every glide, every messy thrust of hips. The pressure built steadily — the intimacy of it made it even heavier.

You dragged your nails down Abby’s back, gasping when she shifted the angle just slightly, making every movement rub directly against the most sensitive spot.

Abby whimpered as you kissed her jaw, her cheek, her mouth and you felt the shiver pass through you.

You let your hand slide along Abby's ribs, then up to cup her chest, pulling her in closer with a quiet whimper. "Fuck, Abs-"

Abby grinned against your lips. "You gonna come for me like this?"

You nodded again, breathless, your whole body trembling. "Don't stop."

"I'm not," Abby murmured, rolling her hips harder now, moving faster, chasing it with you. "Come for me, baby. Let me see you."

The pace quickened, not frenzied but desperate in a softer way — the kind of urgency that came from needing more closeness, not more speed. Her legs trembled, thighs flexing as your legs pushed against each other, slick with arousal, breathing heavy and open-mouthed against one another.

Your hands found each other's faces in the last stretch, lips barely brushing as you gasped, trembling and moaning into each other's mouths as the waves hit, twin releases cresting at once. You cried out, low and guttural, your hand gripping Abby’s shoulder as your body locked up, thighs shaking, back arching. The orgasm hit in a slow, rolling wave— the kind that left you gasping and open and utterly undone. Your body shuddered against Abby's, and Abby's grip on you tightened, holding you close, both of you panting.

Abby didn't stop right away. She rode it out with you, grinding down until you whimpered from overstimulation, clutching her tightly, your foreheads pressed together, sweat-damp skin sliding.

When it was over, you collapsed against her, and she wrapped both arms around you, holding you close, still trying to catch her breath. You stayed tangled, legs still pressed together, hearts pounding in sync, skin damp and flushed. You buried her face in Abby's neck as she breathed, pressing a kiss into your hair.

When you finally settled under the sheets together, skin still humming, you curled into Abby's chest. Abby held you there, her arm firm around your back, her chin resting in your hair.

"Thank you," you murmured, thumb brushing Abby's ribs where her heart beat steady.

Abby kissed your forehead. "You never have to thank me for being gentle with you." she whispered, holding you tighter, pulling the blankets over both of you, wrapping you up in warmth and safety.

You stayed like that for awhile, tangled in warmth and affection, drifting off with hands still clasped beneath the sheets.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

ahh okay that was my first time writing something like this and i’m honestly nervous about how this is gonna be perceived lmao but if you guys liked it i may be able to be persuaded to post more…

dt: @electricneonvalkyrie ✮⋆˙ since you dared me to

abby x pregnant partner

abby x fem!reader . ݁₊ ⊹ ౨ৎ . ݁₊ ⊹

soft!abby / wholesome!abby / mommy!abby | modern au ✿

this is a short series! read pt1 here ᡣ𐭩 more coming soon

cw: pregnancy + childbirth

─────────────────────────

It was late again, hours past midnight. Our apartment was dim, just the soft hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of old floorboards under Miso's feet as she patrolled the shadows. I sat cross-legged on the couch, bathed in the faint light from my laptop. I hadn't meant to go down the rabbit hole. It had just started with a stray thought— what if there was a way for it to be just us?

Abby emerged from the bedroom, rubbing sleep from her eyes, hoodie hanging loose off one shoulder. "You comin' to bed?"

I looked up, guilt flickering in my expression. "Yeah. Sorry. I... couldn't sleep."

Abby stepped closer and caught sight of all my open tabs — articles, speculative journals, medical forums, half-finished thoughts in a notes app. She didn't say anything at first, just sat beside me, knees bumping. "Okay. Talk to me."

I hesitated. Then finally, in a whisper that barely held together, I said, "I just keep thinking... I don't want there to be anyone else involved. I want it to be ours, just ours. No anonymous donor. No third party."

Abby was quiet, her thumb brushing slow, grounding circles along my wrist.

"I know it sounds selfish," I added quickly. "I just... I keep imagining a baby with your freckles. Your eyes. Something that's both of ours. And it hurts a little, knowing that can't happen. Not like that."

Abby looked at me, eyes soft and steady. "It's not selfish. I've thought about it too."

"You have?"

"Yeah," Abby said, with a small, bittersweet smile. "Sometimes when you're asleep, I look at you and I think, I wish we could build a whole person from what we have right here. No outside pieces. Just Us."

I blinked back tears I didn't expect.

Abby leaned in, voice low and warm. "There are some researchers working on it, you know. Cell conversion. They're trying to figure out how to turn somatic cells into viable germ cells. If it works, it means two women could create a biological child together."

"I read about that," I whispered. "They've done it with mice."

Abby nodded. "They'll get there. Maybe not today. Maybe not even soon. But someday."

I curled closer, tucking my face against Abby's shoulder, voice muffled. "I want that someday."

Abby kissed the crown of my head. "Me too."

We sat like that for a long time, wrapped in a silence that wasn't sad — just full. Hopeful. And when we finally turned out the lights and climbed into bed, Abby pulled me close and whispered into my hair, "If it ever becomes possible... we'll be ready."

And I, half-asleep and curled into the warmth of her, whispered back, "They’d look just like you."

── .✦

It had been years since we first sat together, wrapped in our quiet dream of creating a child that was ours, without the interference of any outside sources. The world had changed so slowly, it almost felt like the dream itself was a distant memory — something we had let drift in and out of our conversations on lazy Saturday mornings, when the apartment was filled with the scent of pancakes and Miso sprawled out on the couch, sound asleep.

We had never fully let go of the hope that one day, the research would lead to something more tangible. Every now and then, we would check in- articles, journals, forums, a quiet ritual that had woven itself into the fabric of our relationship. Each update felt like a small victory, a step closer to the "someday" we had dreamed about.

And then, one day, as the world outside shifted into a new season — the leaves turning gold, the air crisp — a headline appeared that would change everything.

"Breakthrough in Somatic Cell Conversion: Same-Sex Couples Could Now Have Biological Children Together."

It was one of those moments where everything seemed to stop. Abby was sitting at the kitchen counter, pouring a cup of coffee, when my sharp intake of breath pierced through the quiet hum of the apartment.

"What is it?" Abby asked, eyes narrowing in concern.

I was standing in the middle of the room, laptop in hand, eyes wide. I couldn't even speak for a moment, the weight of the headline too much to process. I quickly clicked through, reading the article with an intensity Abby hadn't seen in years.

"Abby..." My voice was barely a whisper. "It's real. It's happening."

Abby pushed herself off the counter and moved toward me, feeling the weight of the news settle in her chest like a heavy breath. She read the headline over my shoulder, then scanned the article. It was brief — hopeful, tentative, the first true proof that our dream might one day become reality.

I was shaking, my hands trembling. "This is it. It's actually possible. We could... we could do it, Abby."

Abby took my hand, feeling a surge of emotion. Her throat tightened, the words feeling far too big for what she could express. Instead, she pulled me into a tight hug, burying her face in the warmth of my neck. "I knew it," Abby whispered. "I knew we'd get here. I knew this day would come."

We stood there for a long time, the world outside fading into the background, lost in the overwhelming rush of possibilities. The weight of what it meant settled between us — the dream we had both cradled quietly, now within their reach.

That night, we didn't sleep much. We talked, and talked, and talked. About the future, about what this meant for us, about the world we would build together. We discussed everything from names to how we would decorate the nursery. Abby's mind raced with logistics, thinking through the process, while I held onto the dream with an intensity that was both fiery and tender. We were both there — so deeply intertwined in this future that it almost felt too good to be true.

The next morning, we woke up in each other's arms, and for the first time, it felt like the future was no longer a question mark. It was there. It was real.

Abby slipped her hand into mine, our fingers intertwined. It wasn't flashy or dramatic, but in the softness of that gesture, there was something more profound than we had realized. They had come this far. The dream was happening.

── .✦

The process was slow. Complicated. We went through dozens of tests - cell sampling, genetic screenings, trial injections to prep my body.

The science was new, constantly evolving, and we were part of something that hadn't been done more than a handful of times.

But we kept showing up.

Every appointment, every needle, every fear — we faced it together. Abby never missed a single step.

She kept meticulous notes on schedules and dosages. I kept a journal, sometimes scribbling nonsense, sometimes raw, unfiltered feelings: ‘I don't know if I can do this. I want to. I think I'm scared of loving something this much before I even know them.’ There were tears I didn't always explain, and silences Abby knew not to press on.

A few weeks later, after appointments with a handful of meetings with specialists, we stood in the sterile white of the clinic together— my hand firmly in Abby's, both of us quieter than usual. The consultation room was small and warm, a single potted plant in the corner trying its best to brighten the place. It didn't feel like the kind of place where history was being made. But for me, it was. A specialist had just walked us through the latest breakthroughs, the clinical steps, the risks. It had all sounded distant, surreal.

I already knew it all. We both did. But I needed to hear it one more time. Needed to feel the gravity of it. Because after this, there would be no turning back.

"The embryo is healthy," the doctor said gently, sliding a photo across the desk. "Genetically viable, with balanced markers from both of you."

I stared at the grainy image. A cluster of cells, barely formed. But it was ours. Not half of one of them and half a stranger - not a compromise, not a workaround.

I felt Abby's thumb stroke over my knuckles. I looked over and saw the tension in Abby's jaw, the almost childlike awe in her eyes.

"I still don't believe it," I whispered.

"I do," Abby said quietly. "Because you're the only person in the world who could've made me want this."

That next morning, I barely ate. I showered in silence, dressed in soft clothes, and sat on the bed with my hands in my lap while Abby packed a bag.

When I finally stood, Abby reached out and pulled me into a long, grounding hug. "You sure?" Abby murmured.

I nodded into her shoulder. "Terrified. But sure. I never thought l'd be the one to do this."

Abby's brow furrowed — not with worry, but with that quiet, soft steadiness that always grounded me. "You don't have to do this for me.”

"I'm not. I'm doing this with you." I nodded. “ I want to. I want to try. If it's you... if it's us... I think I could be brave."

Abby's chest tightened, her throat constricting with something too tender for words. She stepped forward, brushing a hand over my cheek and into my hair, steady and reverent. "You already are." Abby let out a shaky breath. "You're everything to me."

I smiled faintly. "We’re about to meet the rest of everything."

── .✦

In the procedure room, I laid back, my knees drawn up, legs in stirrups, sterile lights overhead.

Abby stood by her head, gloved fingers holding my hand tightly. She didn't try to offer empty words - just stayed with me, steady, solid.

When the doctor entered and nodded to them gently, I looked up at Abby. "Don’t let go," I whispered.

Abby cupped my cheek and leaned closer. "I've got you.”

There was pressure. A strange fullness. My body flinched instinctively, and Abby stroked my hair, murmuring nonsense, grounding me with touch.

And then-

"It's done," the doctor said softly. "Congratulations. We'll give you a moment."

Silence.

I blinked up at Abby, stunned. My heart hammered against my ribs. Abby leaned down and kissed my forehead. "You did it."

Tears gathered in my lashes. "We did it."

Later, after we were home, I curled into Abby's side on the couch, our hands resting gently on my lower belly. Nothing had changed physically, not yet. But something felt different. Like a thread had been tied between past and future, looping through both of us.

"I'm scared." I mumbled softly.

"I'll be with you every second."

I turned to look up at her. "Promise?"

Abby smiled, eyes shining. "You're stuck with me, babe."

I laughed, soft and breathless. "Good."

We sat there a long time, silent except for the sound of our joined hearts beating against one another, the smallest spark of something new beginning inside me- something forged entirely out of love.

── .✦

By the second week, my body began to shift.

I was tired. Exhausted, actually. Like my bones were heavier, my limbs slower. One morning, I made it to the kitchen, poured myself a glass of water, then fell asleep on the couch halfway through drinking it. Abby found me like that — water sweating onto the coffee table, as I curled into the cushions. Instead of waking me, Abby sat beside me, carefully lifting my legs onto her lap and tracing soft patterns into my calves until I stirred.

"Sorry," I mumbled, half-asleep.

"Don't be. You're growing a person. You can sleep through the next three months if you want."

The nausea kicked in not long after. The first trimester was brutal.

Nausea hit me like a wave I could never quite get ahead of. Some days, I curled up in bed and didn't move. Abby stayed close, memorizing my cravings and aversions like exam material. She made toast in the middle of the night. She rubbed my back when I cried because I was so tired of feeling sick and scared and exhausted. She grew even more attentive. She learned to give space when I needed to retreat and brought me quiet comforts when words weren't enough: a warm drink on the nightstand, the soft hoodie I always stole, the old, faded sonogram tucked into a book I had been reading.

Abby had already read three books on pregnancy (and annotated them), watched Youtube videos on everything from fetal development to hip-support pillows, and made a spreadsheet to track symptoms, cravings, and trimester milestones. But none of that prepared her for the sight of me kneeling at the toilet in the middle of the night, my whole body trembling with morning sickness that didn't care what time of day it was.

At first, I insisted I was fine. "It's just the coffee," I said, then the tea, then "maybe the toothpaste?"

Without a word, Abby knelt behind me and held my hair back. One hand resting on my spine. Her touch always so steady.

Abby didn't push. Just started keeping plain crackers in a container by the bed and brought ginger chews home without saying a word.

Then came the night I staggered out of bed at 3 a.m., made it to the bathroom, and barely got the lid up in time. I knelt there shaking, face clammy, forehead resting against my arm as I tried not to cry.

Abby came in a minute later, half-asleep but steady. She didn't say anything. She just knelt beside me, held my hair back, and rubbed my back in slow, quiet circles until my stomach settled.

Afterward, she wiped my face with a cool cloth, and kissed my temple as she helped me up and got me into fresh clothes, then curled around me in bed, whispering,

"I'm so proud of you," like I had just run a marathon instead of being sick. "Gatorade? Water? I'll make you toast."

I blinked at her blearily. "Abby, you don't have to-"

"I want to."

From then on, it was a routine. When the nausea flared up, Abby was already there. She adjusted my pillow stacks at night, made chamomile tea and kept saltines on the nightstand, learned how to make different soups from scratch and carried ginger chews in her coat pocket like a secret weapon.

Around week five, the hormones hit hard.

I cried watching a video of a baby goat hopping around a barn. I cried when Abby made my favorite pasta. I cried when I couldn't get my socks on one morning because my stomach cramped when I bent over.

"Come here," Abby had murmured, kneeling and gently putting the socks on for me. "I've got you."

"I'm losing my mind," I sniffled.

"No, babe. You're just doing something impossible."

── .✦

Doctor's visits became more frequent, but no less surreal.

Abby went to every one, notebook in hand, asking precise questions I forgot five seconds after hearing the answers. She held my hand during the ultrasounds, eyes glued to the screen while I mostly stared at Abby's face instead.

The soft hum of the machine filled the space, and I laid back on the table with my shirt rolled up, cold gel on my belly and Abby seated right beside me, out fingers intertwined tightly.

Abby's eyes were fixed on the screen, even more than mine. She'd been unusually still since they walked in - jaw tight, brow furrowed like she was trying to solve something, even though it was out of her hands.

The tech smiled gently. "Everything looks good. Strong heartbeat. And... do you two want to know the sex?"

I glanced at Abby, who didn't look away from the screen as she softly said, "Yeah."

The tech gave a warm, knowing smile. "It's a girl."

I felt it in my chest first - that swooping warmth, the disbelief. But when I turned my head to look at Abby, it nearly undid me.

Abby's eyes were glassy. She let out a slow, unsteady breath like she'd been holding it for weeks. Her hand lifted to press lightly over mine where it rested on my stomach. And then, almost a whisper, she said: "I knew it."

We left with a blurry printout of the scan and two stunned, quiet smiles. I tucked my arm around Abby's on the walk to the car, rubbing the bump through my coat. Abby looked down at me, eyes still soft with wonder. "You realize we're girl moms now, right?"

I laughed through my nose. "God help us.”

Abby kissed my temple. "She's gonna be the luckiest kid in the world."

Afterward, we sat in the car in the parking lot, not ready to drive away. Abby stared at the blurry black-and-white photo in her lap.

"That's our kid," I said softly. "Our actual... kid."

Abby smiled, tears brimming without falling. "I know."

We didn't need to say anything else. We just sat there, parked in the middle of everything — the world outside moving, and us inside, still. The air between us full of awe.

── .✦

The house was dark except for the glow of the bedside lamp. The hum of the city filtered in through the cracked window, distant and muffled.

I laid on my side, one leg tangled with Abby's, her fingers idly tracing patterns over my stomach - the softest touch, like she was learning me all over again. Neither of us said anything for a long moment. The silence wasn't heavy. Just full.

Then I mumbled, "What if I'm not good at this?"

Abby kissed the crown of my head. "You will be. I've never seen you love anything halfway. Our kid's gonna be the luckiest in world." Abby smiled. "They'll be obsessed with you. You're gonna be their favorite."

“What do you think they'll be like?" I asked softly.

Abby glanced over, her lips curving faintly. "Loud. Probably smarter than both of us combined. Stubborn like you."

"I'm not stubborn," I protested softly, rolling my eyes and burying my face in Abby's shoulder. "God help us if they're as sarcastic as you."

Abby laughed quietly, chest rising beneath my cheek. "They're gonna be loved, that's for sure."

A pause.

"I keep thinking about that," I said. "How different their life is going to be from ours. They won't have to figure it all out on their own, you know? They'll have us."

"You think we'll be any good at this?" Abby's voice was quiet now, a hint of vulnerability tucked underneath her steadiness. "We didn't even think we wanted it."

"I know," I whispered. "But maybe... maybe that's what makes it feel so right. We didn't want this out of obligation or expectation. We wanted it because it became impossible not to. Because we love each other so much it spilled over."

Abby's hand moved to cradle my cheek, brushing my hair back. "I'm scared sometimes."

I tilted my head, eyes soft. "Of what?"

"Messing up. Not being enough. I didn't grow up with a mom. I don't know what it's supposed to look like — to be soft and gentle and still... me."

I leaned up, kissing the corner of her mouth. "We'll figure it out together. You don't have to be anyone else. You just have to be you. And I'll be me. And we'll be imperfect and messy and probably overtired a lot of the time, but they'll never have to wonder if they're loved."

Abby swallowed, nodding slowly. "Yeah."

"I want them to grow up with so much softness," I whispered. "I want bedtime stories and lazy Sundays, and learning how to stand up for what's right. I want them to feel safe enough to be whoever they are."

Abby looked at me, and for a moment she didn't speak. Then she said, "You're going to be the best mom."

"So are you."

Abby blinked hard and pulled me closer, tucking her face against my neck. I ran my fingers through her hair, gentle and slow, until her breathing evened out, her body relaxing into sleep.

And even long after Abby had drifted off, I stayed awake, my hand resting over my stomach, already imagining the tiny heartbeat growing quietly inside me. I smiled in the dark. We were really doing this. Together.

── .✦

It wasn't easy. And as my body began to change, as the pregnancy became visible and real, Abby watched with awe. She never said much, but every once in a while, she'd rest her head against my belly, or trail a gentle hand over my skin, admiring and amazed.

Once, I caught her just staring. "What?"

Abby just shook her head, eyes soft. "You're so beautiful like this."

I blinked. "I look like a bloated beach ball."

Abby grinned. "You look like my future."

My cheeks flushed, heart pounding, I smiled quietly and rested my hand over Abby's.

Neither of us had ever imagined this. I hadn't even liked kids growing up — and yet here I was, trying to imagine the tiny life growing inside me. I would lie in bed sometimes, my hand resting lightly over my belly, and whisper, “I hope you're kind. I hope you're like her.”

── .✦

Nesting hit me hard— and Abby rose to meet it like a mission.

Abby painted the nursery walls pale sage green, carefully taping the edges and climbing up and down the ladder ten times to make sure it was perfect. I waddled beside her with one hand on her back, and kept insisting it was fine. It had taken Abby a full weekend and an almost obsessive amount of tape precision, but the end result was perfect. Smooth, even, peaceful.

"No, see that corner? Uneven," Abby said, focused. "She deserves better."

I rolled my eyes, smiling. "You're ridiculous."

"I'm thorough."

"You're obsessed."

Abby smirked. "With you. And her. Get used to it."

She assembled the crib by hand, refusing to let me help with the heavy parts, and installed a mobile of stars and moons above it. She organized the closet by size and type - swaddles, onesies, tiny socks in labeled baskets. She kept her calloused hands gentle on every detail, folding soft blankets and testing the glider chair twice before I even sat in it.

Abby also quietly baby-proofed things before I could even worry. Door latches, outlet covers, cabinet locks. Some of it wouldn't even be needed for months — but she did it anyway, just in case. That's how she showed her love: in preparation. In presence.

Abby stood in the middle of the room now, arms crossed, a pencil behind one ear, squinting at the gliding chair she'd just finished assembling. It was light oak with a creamy linen cushion. I was sitting in it now, swaying slowly, both hands resting on my belly.

"She's kicking," I murmured, smiling. "I think she likes it."

Abby crouched down and placed her hands over my bump, her eyes softening instantly. "She's got good taste."

A gentle breeze caused the sheer white curtains to flutter at the open window. There were baskets on the floor, half-unpacked with swaddles and tiny hats. A folded quilt with warm, earthy tones lay draped over the edge of the natural wood crib. Abby had spent an hour adjusting the height of the mattress before I told her to just pick one. She settled on the middle setting, then double-checked the screws anyway.

"What do you think?" Abby asked, motioning to the fake hanging vines she'd just pinned around the corner of the room. They draped softly above the changing table, catching the light from a woven rattan lamp that cast a warm, golden glow over everything.

I nodded, smiling as I rocked gently. "It feels like a little forest. Peaceful."

Abby looked around too, hands on her hips. "Still need to assemble the bookshelf."

I watched her, my heart full. "You know," I said quietly, "You built this whole room around her. With your hands. That's kind of... beautiful."

Abby ducked her head, a little embarrassed. "Just wanted it to be right."

"It's perfect." I reached out my hand, and Abby came immediately. She lowered herself onto the armrest, one arm draped across my shoulders, the other falling instinctively to my belly again.

"I can't wait to see her in here," Abby murmured, eyes soft.

I smiled, turning into her. "Me either."

── .✦

The bedroom was still dim, curtains drawn shut with only the faintest slivers of light breaking through - early morning, just after sunrise. The air was cool, still touched with the softness of sleep.

I was curled on my side, long lashes resting against my cheeks, one arm tucked beneath the pillow and the other resting protectively across the curve of my belly.

Abby lay beside me, propped up on one elbow. She was watching me in the way she always did when she thought no one could see — full of quiet awe, like she still couldn't believe she got to be here.

She reached over with her free hand and carefully lifted the hem of my sleep shirt, revealing the gentle roundness beneath. She leaned down, brushing a kiss just above the spot where she'd felt the baby kick the night before. She took the cocoa butter lotion I kept on our nightstand, rubbing a little between her palms to warm it. She moved slowly, smoothing the lotion over my skin with careful hands. Her palms were calloused and warm, steady and soothing as she worked the lotion in slow, circular motions, like she was afraid she'd press too hard.

"Morning, little bear," she whispered, her voice scratchy with sleep, low and quiet. "Sorry to wake you if you were still out. Your mom's still asleep too. She looks like a literal angel right now, by the way. Don't tell her I said that."

She smiled faintly to herself, then rested her hand on the warm skin, thumb tracing absent, lazy circles.

"I've been thinking about how much stuff I want to show you. Like stargazing. And tree frogs. And the exact right way to organize a toolbox — which your mom will make fun of me for, but you'll get it. I know you will."

There was a faint, fluttering shift beneath her palm.

Abby paused.

"Yeah?" she whispered. "That sound good to you?" Another little thump. Abby's eyes softened.

She looked back at me, still resting, but with a small smile curling at the edges of my lips now - maybe half-awake, maybe dreaming.

"She's listening," I murmured without opening my eyes.

Abby smiled. "You both are."

"I like hearing your voice first thing," I mumbled, my voice still heavy with sleep. "So does she."

Abby leaned down and kissed my temple, then my stomach again.

"Then I'll keep talking," she said softly. "Forever."

She stayed like that - her hand resting gently, her body curled close. As the light slowly warmed the room, the three of us drifted in and out of that quiet, perfect in-between place — a soft cocoon of comfort, love, and the slow, steady rhythm of family beginning to take shape.

── .✦

"Nothing," I muttered from where I laid sprawled on the couch, one hand draped over my belly. "Absolutely nothing."

Abby glanced over from the kitchen, holding a glass of water. "Still quiet?"

"She's ignoring me," I grumbled, brow furrowing. "I've been rubbing my stomach and humming like an idiot for twenty minutes and she hasn't moved once."

Abby walked over, setting the glass on the coffee table before crouching beside the couch. "Maybe she's just asleep."

"She was kicking like crazy this morning. The second you left for work, it was radio silence. She's obsessed with you."

Abby grinned, clearly trying not to look too smug. "She just likes my voice."

"She loves your voice," I corrected, a little dramatically. "Which is rude. I'm the one carrying her. I'm the one with swollen feet and acid reflux and a bladder the size of a raisin."

Abby leaned in and kissed the curve of my stomach softly. "You're also the most beautiful person l've ever seen."

I raised a brow. "Flattery won't save you."

Abby smiled and shifted, stretching out beside me on the couch and resting her cheek against the swell of my belly. She wrapped an arm loosely around my waist and spoke in a low, affectionate murmur. "Hey, peanut. Your mom says you're being shy. You hiding from her?"

A solid thump answered. Then another.

I groaned and covered my eyes with the back of my hand. "Oh my God."

Abby grinned into her skin. "There she is."

"She didn't even hesitate. Are you kidding me?"

Another kick — harder this time. Abby chuckled and rubbed slow, gentle circles where the movement had come from. "Wow. You're really showing off now, huh?"

"Betrayal," I muttered dramatically, but my other hand was already moving to join Abby's. "It's because your voice is deeper. Babies like lower frequencies."

"She just knows I'm cool," Abby said dryly, then looked up with that warm, teasing glint in her eye.

I laughed, but my fingers curled into Abby's shirt. "She already loves you so much," I said, quieter now. "It kind of breaks my heart."

Abby tilted her head, eyes softening. "Hey," she whispered. "You're the one she knows. Your heartbeat's her home. I'm just the loud neighbor she kicks for attention."

I smiled, even as my eyes watered.

Abby kissed the stretch of skin between kicks. "But I'll take every little nudge if it makes you smile like that."

── .✦

I was curled up on my side, propped up with a mountain of pillows, my T-shirt stretched gently over the swell of my belly. The hum of the fan was the only sound in the room—until the mattress dipped behind me.

Abby slid into bed carefully, freshly showered, wearing one of my old sweatshirts that was fraying at the cuffs. She leaned over to kiss my temple, then the edge of my shoulder. "How's the peanut?"

"Restless," I murmured sleepily. "She's been having her own little dance party for the last half hour. I think she misses you."

Abby smiled, already pushing the covers down and shifting lower on the bed so she was face-to-belly.

She eased me onto my back, her touch gentle. Her big hands cupped the sides of my stomach, warm palms smoothing over the soft skin.

"You giving your mom a hard time?" she murmured, then pressed a kiss just above my belly button. "I hear you've been kicking all night."

The baby responded instantly—a solid, thudding kick to the side of my belly, right where Abby's hand was resting.

I let out a breathy laugh. "Unbelievable."

Abby laughed too, but softened as she moved even closer, gently tugging up my shirt. She rested her cheek right against the bare skin, wrapping her arm around my waist, grounding herself there. "You've got strong legs already, huh? Like your mama."

Another small thump. Abby's grin only grew.

"Okay, okay," I said, half-amused, half-exasperated. "You win. She's yours."

"Nah," Abby said softly, voice muffled against my belly. "She's ours." And then, without warning-she started to hum. A low, soothing tune, something simple and old and wordless. I recognized it after a moment-it was a melody Abby had once said her dad used to hum when he was cooking. Now it filled the quiet space between us like a lullaby, like a story passed down.

The baby stilled, then kicked again. Gentler this time. Rhythmic, like she was listening. "She likes when you do that," I whispered.

Abby hummed a little more, then pressed a kiss to the curve of my stomach. "She'll probably fall asleep to this once she's born. Bet I'll be pacing the living room at 3 a.m. singing this with my eyes half-shut."

"She's so lucky to have you." I murmured, my hand reaching down to thread through Abby's hair.

Abby didn't respond at first-she just stayed there, curled close, holding my belly like it was the most sacred thing in the world. Then she whispered, "I think I'm the lucky one."

You’re going to be the best mom. She’s going to be so safe with you. You’re steady, strong. You look at me like I'm making something precious, even when I feel like a mess— I hope she gets that from you. That softness, under all the muscle and the serious face."

── .✦

The room had gone silent sometime after midnight.

I had drifted off, my breathing deep and steady, one hand resting loosely on my belly. The fan hummed softly in the corner, and the occasional creak of the old building settled into the silence.

Abby hadn't moved. She stayed where she was, lying on her side, head rested gently on my belly, as if it were the most natural pillow in the world. Her hand had stilled, fingertips curved softly over my skin, but her eyes were wide open-quiet, thoughtful. She glanced up once to check on me, and when she saw the gentle rise and fall of my chest, her voice lowered into a barely-there whisper.

"I know you can't really understand me yet," she murmured, voice husky with the softness of it. "But I wanted to talk to you anyway." She closed her eyes for a moment, pressing her cheek more firmly against the swell of her daughter's little world.

"Your mom is the best person l've ever known," she whispered. "She's brave, and smart, and so full of love even when she doesn't think she is. She's scared sometimes. But she still shows up—every day. And she's already given you more than you'll ever realize." She swallowed, the weight of emotion sitting thick in her chest.

"You're going to get her smile," Abby continued softly. "And her curiosity, and her little stubborn streak. But I hope you get her heart most of all. I'll do everything I can to protect it. Both of yours." She stayed quiet for a long beat after that. Then she smiled faintly to herself, brushing her thumb gently along my skin. "I already love you."

And just then-like she'd heard-there was a little flutter beneath her hand. A tiny movement. Barely more than a nudge. Abby's eyes welled unexpectedly. She pressed a kiss to the spot where she'd felt it, then another. "Okay," she whispered, her voice catching slightly. "Okay. I'll stay right here."

And she did.

She stayed curled there in the quiet dark, one arm wrapped protectively around my waist, one hand over her daughter, breathing in the soft rhythm of home.

I stirred slowly, the kind of gentle, reluctant waking that came from a deep and dreamless sleep. For a few moments, I didn't open my eyes -just felt the comforting weight of the blankets, the faint tickle of breath against her skin, and the warmth of someone close.

Then I registered it: the shape of Abby, curled into my side. Her head was resting low, right over my belly, one arm loosely draped around my hips, the other hand cradling the curve of the bump with aching tenderness.

My chest ached in that full, golden way it always did when I looked at Abby and loved her so much I thought my heart might bruise from it. I brought a hand to Abby's hair, brushing my fingers softly through it.

Abby stirred but didn't lift her head. "Hey," she murmured, voice sleep-rough. "Did I wake you?"

"No," I whispered, my voice thick with affection. "You stayed like this all night?"

Abby hummed. "She kicked. After I talked to her."

My eyes burned unexpectedly. "She did?"

"Yeah. Pretty sure she likes me more already."

That earned a quiet, small laugh from me. "God, of course she does. She's got good taste."

Abby tilted her head just enough to look up at me. Her eyes were soft, heavy with love and sleepless wonder.

"What did you say to her?" I asked, my fingers still carding gently through Abby's hair.

Abby hesitated, just for a second. "That I love her. That I love you. And I'm gonna do everything I can to be good at this. To be what she needs."

My lips trembled as I leaned down, pressing a kiss to Abby's forehead. "You already are," I whispered. "She's going to be so lucky."

"I already am," Abby whispered back.

She rested her head again, listening quietly, adoringly, to the gentle rhythm beneath her. I wiped at my eyes, then let myself be still, my palm pressed over Abby's as we both held onto the tiny life between us.

And in that quiet moment, wrapped in the soft weight of each other and the miracle growing within, I knew—there wasn't anything more sacred than this.

── .✦

We were curled up in bed, late morning sunlight filtering through the curtains. I laid sprawled across Abby's chest, tracing lazy shapes along her collarbone while Abby's fingers idly skimmed through my hair. The apartment was quiet, peaceful — a rare moment where time didn't feel like it was rushing forward.

"I have a question," I murmured.

Abby hummed, eyes half-lidded. "Mm?"

"It's theoretical," I added, my voice soft but tinged with mischief.

"Okay..." Abby cracked one eye open. "What kind of trap am l about to walk into?"

I propped my chin on Abby's chest and looked up at her with mock seriousness. "If there was a complication during labor - like, something dramatic, high-stakes, Grey's Anatomy level — and the doctors said you could only save me or the baby... who would you choose?"

Abby blinked. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious."

"I hate this question."

"It's important."

"It's emotionally manipulative," Abby said flatly, and I burst into a laugh, burying my face against her.

"I'm just curious!" I giggled. "Like... where do I rank now? Am I still number one?"

Abby groaned and ran a hand down her face, trying to suppress a smile. "You're ridiculous."

"But?" I pressed, eyes dancing.

Abby looked at me for a long moment, then reached up, cradling the side of my face with a gentleness that never failed to make me feel like I was glowing from the inside side out.

"I would save you," Abby said quietly. "Always you."

My teasing smile faded into something softer, my eyes searching Abby's. "Really?"

Abby nodded. "We made that life together, but you're the one who’s bringing her into this world. There's no her without you. And I could never... I'd never choose a life where I lost you."

I swallowed, my throat tight as I crack a small smile. "I think you’d be able to handle the whole single mom thing, though."

"Don't even joke about that. I wouldn't want to," Abby said, kissing my forehead. "I want the version of our life where we're all together. You, me, and the baby you've already started talking to when you think I'm asleep."

I smiled, eyes a little glassy now. "You hear that?"

"Every word."

"Okay, well," I sniffled, laughing as I blinked my tears away, "I'd save you, too."

"Emotionally manipulative," Abby teased.

"Shut up. I love you."

"I love you more."

── .✦

Later that week, it hit me differently.

I stood in front of the mirror, towel wrapped around me after a shower, just staring. My body didn't feel like mine anymore - my breasts ached, my stomach heavy and stretching more every day.

There were little purple lines beginning to spider near my hips, my back hurt constantly, and I didn't even recognize the way I moved.

I blinked, then blinked again, but the tears came anyway.

I didn't even hear Abby come into the room until her arms slipped around mhwaist from behind, the towel giving way a little as Abby pulled me close.

"You okay?" Abby's voice was quiet, her chin resting on my shoulder.

I nodded, then shook my head. "I don't know."

I kept staring at myself, hating how small I sounded. "I feel so... uncomfortable in my skin. I don't know if I can do this. What if something goes wrong? What if labor's too much? What if I can't handle it?"

Abby turned me gently so we were face to face. "Hey," she said, brushing a strand of damp hair behind my ear. "You don't have to have it all figured out. You just have to take it one day at a time. I'll be there for every single one of them."

My voice dropped to a whisper. "What if you change your mind?"

Abby blinked, pain flickering across her face. "Babe..."

"I mean it. What if I break down or panic or lose it and it scares you away?"

Abby pulled me into a full hug then, holding me tightly, like she could keep the fear from leaking out of my chest if she just held on hard enough.

"You're allowed to be scared," Abby murmured into my hair. "This is the bravest thing l've ever seen anyone do. But I'm not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever. You're it for me."

I clung to her then, burying my face into her shoulder and letting the tears come.

Eventually, Abby pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. "You're still you. Your body's doing something incredible - but I see you. You're still beautiful. You're still mine. Even when you feel like a stranger to yourself, I promise, I'll always recognize you."

I sniffled, smiled through the tears. "Even when I'm puffy and hormonal and covered in stretch marks?"

Abby grinned. "Especially then."

── .✦

I had barely made it to the couch most days before Abby was already there, gently guiding me down, her big hands cupping my elbows like I was something delicate and precious. I didn't even get a chance to protest-Abby was already lifting my feet into her lap, her thumbs pressing into the aching arches like she'd been waiting all day for the chance to do it.

"You don't have to do that every time," I murmured, even as I melted into the cushions, already sighing at the pressure.

"I want to," Abby said, soft and certain, gaze fixed on me like she was studying me. "You've been on your feet all day. Let me take care of you."

I watched her for a moment, cheeks warm, heart fluttering with something deep and tender.

Abby's calloused hands worked with care, mapping every tired muscle with instinct. When she looked up and caught my gaze, her lips curled into a soft smile. "You're glowing, by the way."

"Oh god," I groaned, covering my face. "If one more person says that-"

Abby chuckled and leaned forward, brushing my hands aside and kissing my cheek. "I don't mean it in a corny way. You just look... happy. And beautiful."

She paused, one hand drifting to my belly, fingers splaying over the soft swell. “Both of you do.”

I blinked at her, heart catching in my throat as Abby leaned down and pressed a kiss to my belly too, lips lingering for a second before she looked up, eyes filled with a quiet kind of awe. "You're incredible," she said quietly. "I don't know how I got so lucky."

I reached for her hand, threading our fingers together. "You're the one who makes me feel safe. Like I can actually do this."

Abby gave my hand a squeeze, then started massaging my calves next, careful and slow, like I was the most important thing in the world. And maybe, in that moment, I was.

── .✦

The third trimester settled in like fog.

Everything felt heavier — the air, the quiet in the apartment, my limbs as I shuffled from room to room. Abby had started sleeping with one hand splayed protectively over my stomach at night, like a reflex. She didn't even wake up for it anymore. It was just... automatic. And I loved her for that.

We had spent the past few weeks nesting - quietly building a little life inside our home for someone we hadn't met yet but already loved.

The crib sat near the window in our bedroom, sunlight pooling across the pale green sheets every morning. A mobile with little felt moons and stars gently swayed from the ceiling fan. Miso had immediately claimed the changing table as her new perch.

I sat on the edge of our bed one afternoon, pulling a tiny onesie from the drawer and laying it flat on my lap. It was hard to believe someone small enough to fit in that could make me feel this full, this stretched and tired and overwhelmed.

"I washed all the blankets," Abby said from the doorway. "Repacked the go bag. It's by the door now. Snacks, phone chargers, extra socks for you."

I smiled softly, holding up the onesie. "I can't believe this is going to be ours."

Abby crossed the room, crouching in front of me with one hand on my thigh. "She's already ours."

── .✦

It was still dark out when my hand curled around Abby's wrist, my breathing already uneven.

I stirred awake with a low, aching pressure in my belly. Something about it felt different. Heavier. Lower. Then came the sharp tug - unmistakable.

"Abs," I whispered, my voice low but urgent. "Abby."

Abby blinked awake instantly, reaching for me without hesitation. "What is it?"

I looked down at my hands, then met Abby's eyes. "I think it's time."

Abby was upright in a second, the bleariness dropping from her face like a mask. She was dressed and steady within minutes, helping me into the car with practiced hands—one arm around my back, the other clutching the hospital bag.

I held onto her hand like a lifeline. "I'm scared."

"You're okay. We've got this.”

The ride was quiet but thick with tension, squeezing Abby's hand between contractions, my eyes closed, my lips pressed tight. Abby drove one-handed, her thumb stroking over my knuckles the entire time.

By the time we got to the hospital, I was fully in it-sweating, trembling, my breath hitching with every contraction. Abby didn't leave my side. Not once. She held my hand through every wave of pain, her other arm wrapped around me when the tremors got worse. She whispered soft things against my temple-"You're doing so good," "I've got you," "You're almost there."

The hospital room was dim and quiet, softened by the hush of early morning and the low beep of a heart monitor. My hands gripped the sides of the bed, my knuckles pale as another contraction rolled through me like a wave. Sweat clung to my hairline, and my face twisted with effort — not just from the pain, but from the sheer intensity of it all. Abby was at my side, one hand wrapped around mine, the other brushing damp hair away from my forehead.

At one point I buried her face in Abby's shoulder, my voice tight with fear. "What if I can't do it?"

Abby didn't hesitate. "You are doing it. You're the strongest person I know. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. You're doing so good," she whispered, voice low and steady, even though her own heart was galloping behind her ribs. "You've got this, babe. Just breathe. I'm right here."

I let out a shaky exhale and gave a tearful laugh. "You better not let go."

"Never," Abby said instantly.

I looked at her, eyes glassy with exhaustion and pain, and something in Abby's heart cracked wide open. She cradled my face and kissed my forehead, then my lips, long and gentle. "You're not alone. You've got me, okay?"

Time moved in strange, disjointed pieces - minutes stretched, then snapped. The pain came and went, each surge stronger than the last.

Abby didn't flinch. She squeezed my hand and leaned in, her voice a grounding force. "You're so close. You're almost there."

Nurses moved in and out of the room like ghosts, adjusting machines and checking vitals. A doctor appeared at some point, calm and collected.

And then came the words that made everything still. "It's time to push."

I nodded, terrified and ready all at once, squeezing Abby's hand so tight my knuckles turned white, but Abby didn't let go. She held on like a lifeline, her forehead pressed against mine, whispering words of encouragement through gritted teeth like she could shoulder the pain with me.

It was raw and exhausting — primal in a way I had never imagined. I felt like I was cracking open, like everything I had ever been was shifting to make space for someone else. I cried out. Cursed. Squeezed Abby's hand hard enough to bruise.

And Abby - steady, unshakable Abby — stayed right there, her voice trembling but never breaking. "One more push, baby," she whispered. "Just one more."

And then, just like that, the room shifted. A rush of motion, cries, and then—

A baby's first sharp cry split the air.

My head dropped back against the pillow, tears streaking my cheeks, my whole body trembling, dazed and blinking through tears. The doctor held up a tiny, pink-skinned girl, slick and squirming and perfect.

"She's here," Abby breathed, her voice catching in her throat.

Our daughter.

They cleaned her quickly, wrapped her in a soft hospital blanket, and placed her gently in my arms. I looked down at the tiny face nestled against my chest and I started to cry. Not from fear this time, but from the overwhelming, unbearable love. "She's so tiny."

Abby stood frozen for a second, eyes wide and glassy. "She's perfect," Abby whispered, wiping her eyes. She leaned over, resting her hand gently on our daughter's back. "You did it. Babe... you did it."

I looked up at her, eyes shining. "We did it."

Abby smiled through the tears and kissed me, long and quiet and full of adoration. She pulled back just enough to press her lips to the baby's head too, her voice catching in her throat. "Hi, little one. Welcome home."

The room had calmed into a hush, the rush of nurses and movement giving way to soft beeping monitors and dim, golden light seeping through the drawn blinds. I had drifted into a light sleep, exhausted but peaceful, one arm protectively cradling our daughter on my chest.

Abby hadn't taken her eyes off us since.

She was sitting beside the bed, one hand curled around my forearm, her thumb slowly brushing along the inside of my wrist. Her other hand reached out, feather-light, to run along the baby's back. Tiny fingers flexed against my hospital gown, the faintest sigh slipping from the baby's lips as she nestled closer. Abby smiled so softly it barely looked like a smile at all— more like awe made visible.

"Do you wanna hold her?" I asked softly, voice hoarse from tears.

Abby blinked, like the question hadn't even occurred to her. "Can I?"

“Of course you can, she’s yours.” I gave a gentle, sleepy nod and slowly adjusted, guiding the baby into her waiting arms, so small she barely seemed real in Abby's hands. She settled so easily there-like she knew her mother already. Abby looked down at her daughter, her expression stunned, undone. She held her like she was the most fragile thing in the world—one hand cupped beneath her head, the other across her back, steady and strong. The baby blinked up at her with bleary, unfocused eyes, making tiny mouthing motions as if learning the shape of her. She looked down at her daughter, "Hi," she whispered. "Hi, baby girl." She swayed slightly, cradling her gently, as if the world had just shifted on its axis and found its new center in her arms.

“Look at these fingers." Abby murmured to me without looking away.

I smiled tiredly, eyes glassy. "She's got your nose."

Abby let out a quiet laugh. "Poor thing."

"Don't say that," I whispered, reaching out to tuck some of Abby's hair behind her ear. "You're beautiful. She's lucky."

Abby kissed the baby's forehead, then held her close to her chest, feeling that impossibly small heartbeat against her own. Her voice lowered to a hush. "Hi, baby. It’s Mama." She swallowed, clearing the catch in her throat. "You're so small... I can't believe you're real."

The baby squirmed faintly in her arms, then went still again. Abby rocked slowly, instinctively, and the movement soothed them both. "You're gonna be so loved," she whispered, mostly to herself.

I watched them through heavy-lidded eyes, my heart aching with how full it was. I’d never seen Abby like this before-so unguarded, so gentle it felt sacred. I saw the way Abby looked down at our daughter like she was the entire world. And maybe, for Abby, she was.

Abby leaned over and kissed my temple, “You're amazing," she whispered.

I watched them with awe — my tired heart so full it felt like it might burst. We stayed that way for a long time — the three of us, tangled in warmth, completely changed and yet exactly who we had always been.

── .✦

if anyone’s read this far i’d love the feedback, this is my first time writing a fic! 🥲

Growing tired of the toxic/abusive Abby headcanons

──

I truly don't think Abby has it in her. Not in any timeline, not in any version of herself.

Abby is strong, yes — physically intimidating even- but her strength is protective, never oppressive. She's hyper aware of the power she carries in her body and in her presence, and she's especially careful with the people she loves.

In fact, Abby's worst fear might be becoming a person who could hurt someone she loves. If she even thought she'd made you feel unsafe — emotionally or physically — it would wreck her. She'd spiral into shame, shut down, go quiet for days. She's the type to overcorrect into gentleness because she never wants her strength to feel like a weapon.

She might snap at someone if she's deeply overwhelmed or panicked, especially in a moment of fear or high emotion. But even then, it's reactive — never controlling, never cruel. And she always circles back to take accountability.

What Abby might do instead:

Withdraw. When she's upset, she shuts down. Goes quiet, distant. Not to punish— but because she doesn't know how to process it without accidentally hurting someone. This could feel like rejection if you didn't understand it, but it's self-protective, not abusive.

Internalize. She won't talk about what's wrong, even when she's hurting. She takes on too much, blames herself for things she can't control, and sometimes tries to "handle" things alone instead of leaning on others. This could cause tension — but again, it comes from love, not malice.

More than anything, Abby turns her intensity inward. She's her own harshest critic, especially if she thinks she's failed in her role, it devastates her.

In a relationship with her, built on deep emotional trust and so much care — there's no room for abuse. Disagreements? Of course. Miscommunications? Sometimes. But anything even resembling abuse would be the antithesis of who Abby is.

── .✦

let’s unfuck the narrative please. ༝༚༝༚

abby fic- becoming a parent with you

. ݁₊ ⊹ ౨ৎ . ݁₊ ⊹

soft!abby / wholesome!abby / mommy!abby | modern au

this will be pt1 of a short series so bear with me! ᡣ𐭩 pt2 is here

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The apartment is dim, the only light coming from my desk lamp left on low. We were lying on my twin bed, facing each other under a shared blanket that barely fits two. Abby's arm is tucked under my pillow, close enough that I can feel the heat of her skin across the space between us, though neither has reached out yet.

It's quiet-one of those heavy, still silences that doesn't feel awkward. Just full. I’ve been watching Abby's eyes shift softly between me and the ceiling. She's been thinking too much. She always does, when it's this late.

I shift slightly, resting my cheek on her hand, my voice barely more than a breath. "Did you ever want kids?"

Abby blinks. Her brow tightens just slightly— enough for me to worry I’ve overstepped.

But Abby doesn't deflect. She just lets the quiet stretch out longer, like she's really thinking about it.

"I don't know," Abby finally says, voice low and flat in the way it gets when she's feeling something but doesn't want to admit it yet. "I never really let myself think about it." Her eyes shift to meet mine. "It never felt like something I could picture."

I nod, slow. "I don't think I did either," I say. "Still don't, most days. I just... wondered if that's something you ever saw for yourself. Or not."

Abby's mouth twitches at the corner-almost a smile, almost a wince. "I don't think I ever saw anything for myself," she admits, eyes softening. "Not until recently."

She doesn't say it. But I hear it in the pause. In the way Abby's gaze flickers to my lips, then back up to my eyes.

There's a beat of stillness, heavy with something unsaid. My heart thumps, and my hand shifts between us, resting near Abby's wrist. Not touching. Just close enough.

Abby turns toward me a little more. Her voice is softer now. "If I ever did want that... anything close to that... it'd have to be with someone like you."

I swallow around the lump in my throat and give a small nod. My fingers graze Abby's wrist, lingering just enough. "Okay," I whisper, barely audible. "That's good to know."

We don't say anything else. We don't have to.

Abby shifts an inch closer, enough for our foreheads to rest together, and closes her eyes. It's not a declaration. It's just a beginning.

── .✦·········────

The visit had gone well — better than either of us expected, really.

Our friends from college, a couple who had always felt a little older than the rest of the group, had just had their first baby a few months ago.

I squealed the second I saw the tiny thing wrapped in a patterned swaddle, and Abby, who normally looked like she could carry a fridge without breaking a sweat, held the infant with surprisingly practiced gentleness.

Abby had gone a little quiet during the visit, but not in a bad way. Just... watching. Observing. Taking it all in. I had watched her watching — the way she cradled the baby without hesitation, the way she grinned when the baby grabbed her finger in those impossibly small hands, the way she had instinctively swayed when standing, like she'd done it a hundred times before.

On the walk home, my hand slipped into Abby's. It was cold outside, but Abby's palms, as always, ran warm. "She really liked you," I said, nudging her shoulder. "You're a natural."

Abby gave a small shrug, cheeks a little pink from the cold - or maybe something else.

𓂃₊

Back at the apartment, we kicked off our shoes and flopped onto the couch, Miso curling between us in a warm little loaf. For a while, it was just quiet — the kind of silence we didn't need to fill — until I broke it, my voice tentative.

"Did it... feel weird to you?" I asked. "Being there?"

Abby shifted slightly. "Not weird. Just... different. Familiar in a way that kind of caught me off guard."

I nodded, running my fingers gently over Miso's back. "I always thought I wouldn't want that," I said. "I think part of me still feels scared of the idea. Of not being ready. Of messing something up. But when you were holding her, and you smiled like that..." My voice trailed off. "I don't know. It made me think about it. Like, really think about it."

Abby leaned her head back against the couch cushion, gaze fixed on the ceiling. "I used to imagine it, sometimes. Just in passing. What it'd be like, if l ever got to have a family. But it always felt distant — something l'd be good at, sure, but not something l'd actually want. I didn’t see it for myself." She turned to face me. "But… then you showed up. And now we have a cat who thinks she owns the world, and I wake up every day wanting to take care of you. So yeah... I think I could want that. With you. You make me want things I didn't think I'd ever want." She exhaled, with the smallest smile.

My chest fluttered - not just from the words, but the way she said them. Carefully. Earnestly.

"I don't need it to be right now. I don't even know how we'd do it. But I realized something. I don't want a kid — I want your kid. I want to build something that's part of you. I want to see you holding them, and think, 'That's my whole world in one room!" She swallowed. "It's terrifying. But it feels right. You feel right."

I didn't say anything for a long moment. My book slid closed in my lap. "You really mean that?" I asked softly. "You're not just saying it?" I blinked at her, my eyes a little shiny now.

Abby nodded, leaning forward, brushing her fingers over my knee. "I mean it."

A small, wobbly breath left my lungs, like something inside me had been waiting a long time to hear those words. I scooted closer, curling into Abby's side, one hand resting over her heart. "I didn't think I wanted it either," I whispered. "But with you... I think l've been wanting it for a while now. I just didn't want to want it, because it felt impossible. And because I didn't want to want it with anyone else but you."

I smiled, and after a moment, leaned in and kissed her softly. Miso meowed indignantly between us, and we both laughed, breaking the tension. Abby tugged me close again, wrapping me up in the warmth she always carried like it belonged to both of us.

"Not now. Not soon. But... someday." I whispered into her shoulder.

"Someday sounds perfect," Abby murmured, kissing the top of my head, her arm wrapped around me tightly. "We've got time. We'll figure it out."

"Yeah," I breathed, my face tucked against Abby's shoulder. "We always do."

We sat like that for awhile - just holding each other, letting the idea settle between us. No pressure. No timelines. Just the beginning of a shared future, quiet and full of possibilities. It wasn't a plan yet. It wasn't concrete. But for the first time, we let ourselves imagine it- together.

── .✦·········────

It started one night in the kitchen — not with a serious conversation, not with any grand declaration. Barefoot, sweatpants, standing at the counter flipping through a magazine.

Miso was perched on the windowsill, tail flicking, watching something only she could see. Abby stood at the stove, cooking dinner, sleeves rolled up and brow furrowed in concentration.

"You ever think about how we'd actually do it?" I asked casually, still reading. "If we ever had a kid, I mean."

Abby didn't look away from the pan. "Like logistically?"

"Yeah."

A pause. The sound of sizzling onions. Then Abby turned the burner down and finally looked over, a brow raised. "Is this hypothetical curiosity, or are you saying we should start looking into it?"

I shrugged, cheeks pink. "Maybe a little of both."

Abby set the spatula down and leaned back against the counter beside me. "Alright," she said slowly, wiping her hands on a towel. “Let’s say it’s not hypothetical.”

I looked up at her with wide eyes, so much gentleness held in the question I hadn't fully asked yet. "I want to know our options," I said. "If or when we get there."

Abby nodded. "Okay. So we research. See what feels right."

We spent the next week here and there reading articles and bookmarking sites, curled up on the couch in the evenings with one laptop balanced between us and Miso tucked between our knees. Some of it was confusing- charts and acronyms, costs and success rates- but some of it felt surprisingly grounding. Like planning a life, piece by piece.

But there were quieter, sweeter moments too. Abby's hand resting on my thigh as we read. Me gently brushing Abby’s hair behind her ear. The soft wonder in our eyes when we talked about what a child might be like.

We didn't make any decisions right away. It wasn't that kind of conversation. It was just the beginning of a path being cleared- slowly, thoughtfully. Something we could return to again and again, shaping it over time.

Later that night, as we were getting ready for bed, I stood by the sink, brushing my teeth. Abby came up behind me, arms sliding around my waist, chin resting on my shoulder.

"You'd be a really good mom," Abby said softly, meeting my eyes in the mirror.

My eyes flicked to her reflection, surprised at first — then softening into something deep, something fond. I turned slightly to rest my forehead against Abby's. "You too."

Abby smiled, that shy, earnest one I loved. "Guess we'll figure it out together."

"Yeah," I whispered. "We will."

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pt2 is now here :)