Tlou Fanfiction - Blog Posts

I feel like retraumatizing myself today, so here’s a little blurb I wrote

TW: Joel’s death (offscreen)

summary: you’re all alone again.

you sat at your kitchen island, fiddling with the engagement ring Joel had found on a patrol in Cody. the small clock on the cream walls ticked, filling the quiet air. Joel was supposed to be back hours ago.

“shit,, you mumbled, and looked toward the door. standing up, you grabbed your travel bag, and opened the door, only freeing before you stepped out. in front of you stood Tommy, his hand raised to knock.

“goin’ somewhere?,, he asked quietly. his eyes were reddened, and he looked exhausted and emotionally drained. you tilted your head slowly.

“where’s Joel?,, you mumbled. Tommy sighed, his breath shaky, and looked down. he looked back up at you, and shook his head slowly.

“i’m so sorry,,

you knew what he meant. but that was impossible. Joel was always the most careful on patrols. like he did five years ago taking Ellie to those goddamn fireflies, he always took the highest precautions.

“that ain’t funny, Tommy.,, you breathed. Tommy opened his mouth to speak, but you put up a hand.

“get the hell off my property,, you hissed. Tommy started saying your name, but you cut him off, slamming the door in his face. Crumbling to the ground, you hid your face in your hands, sobs racking your body. For what seemed like forever, you sat against the door, holding yourself. Eventually, you moved to you and Joel’s shared bedroom, putting on his flannel and smelling the woodsy, cologne like scent that was left on it. Joel. Your Joel. Gone.

The next morning, you woke up, your eyes cracking open after being basically glued together by tears. You thought it was just a bad dream, and reached to the other side of the bed to hug your husband.

but he wasn’t there.

REVENGE // CHAPTER ONE

This fanfiction is technically a Ellie x fem! Reader, so just.. idk.. yeah keep that in mind. I actually wrote the original version a couple years ago, due to my hate for Abby, so here’s the warnings for chapter one:

WARNINGS: angst, Ellie being depressed, Ellie having PTSD, implied suicidal ideation (Ellie), reader DESPISING Abby

tags: use of y/n one time, pretty angsty, yk the deal

Lmk if I missed anything, and feel free to give constructive criticism!

REVENGE- CH.1 of ?

The wind blew gently through the oak trees that surrounded the beige ranch, like a shield. You sat, quiet, and contemplating. After Ellie had come back from Santa Barbara, she hadn’t been the same. Emotionally, and physically. With two fingers bitten off, and the already fading glint in her eyes gone, you didn’t know what to do. You knew why she hadn’t killed Abby on that beach. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less. You looked down at your hands, and sighed. 

For weeks, you had been taking care of Ellie, comforting her through every panic attack, every violent nightmare that had her screaming when she woke up. Pushing down your anger and grief, you put her first. While it wasn’t the healthiest thing in the world, it at least tamed the storm for a bit. But the thunder was starting to grow louder and quicker. You looked back at the front door, and stood up, closing your eyes for a moment. Walking in, you walked up to Ellie, who was drinking a glass of water. Wrapping your arms around her waist, you restsd your head on your shoulder. 

Hey, baby. You murmured, breathing in her citrusy scent. Ellie let out a sound of acknowlegdment in response. You took a breath, before gently turning her around to face you. 

Ells.. I.. I’m going to kill her. You said. Ellie looked at you blankly, the energy in her watercolor eyes gone. When it sank in, she shook her head. 

No. Ellie’s eyes narrowed. You looked at her pleadingly. 

Baby, I can’t just let her roam free after what she did-

Then I’m coming, too. You scoffed.

Like hell you are. Have you seen yourself? You don’t sleep. You barely eat. I need you here. Safe. You looked at her, your hand on her cheek. Ellie pushed your hand away, the warmth of her skin gone. 

You won’t be able to find her. She’s probably halfway across the world by now. Ellie said, taking a step back. You shook your head. 

Tommy has contacts. Maybe he knows-

Jesus Christ, Y/N. You know what? Fine. Get yourself killed. I could care less. Ellie snapped, and you took a step back. She’d never been like this to you. She’d never claimed that she didn’t care. But you brushed it off, a feeling of hurt settling in your gut. You took a step back, and walked into your shared bedroom. Quickly, you packed your bag, hesitating before reaching up onto the dresser retrieving Joel’s old revolver. It’d been a while since the gun saw the light of day, as you didn’t trust yourself to leave it out in the open around Ellie alone. You put the gun in your holster, and put your shotgun in the sleeve on your bag. Ellie was still standing at the counter, looking down at the ground. You sighed, kissing her cheek gently.

I’ll be back, baby. You mumbled, and left.

shoutouts:

@likesomeoneinlovee @pedgito @mssalo

@mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @a-misfortune

MEMORIES AND FAMILY - A TLOU X FEM!READER

Tags: angst, violence, weapons (bombs and shit), little bit of blood, Ellie being sassy, Joel being southern, reader has southern accent, the entire hospital sequence (Marlene being an asshole), Joel being a grumpy old man, nightmares (very very brief), Ellie hating coffee

lmk if I missed anything 🥹

WORD COUNT: 2.5K

Age rec: 15+?? Idk it’s my first time

summary: the end of tlou p1 but you’re in it! oh, and there’s a bit of romantic tension but we’ll ignore it, right?

a/n: hiii, it’s bitter! I’m so glad to share this with yall, and I’m also really nervous. please don’t hate (but constructive criticism is encouraged). I hope you enjoy this, and also, that mark watney fanfic is coming I swear!!!!

———————————————————————

MEMORIES AND FAMILY

prologue (part one of idk)

‘S okay, you’re safe, you’re safe.

You breathed heavily, panicked as yet another nightmare jolted you awake. Joel held the back of your head, whispering reassurances that the clickers that ripped your arteries out were just a part of your permanently anxious subconscious. You looked at your best friend, tears brimming in your eyes, yet you managed a weak, reassuring smile that you were better. 

Same nightmare? Joel asked. You nodded, breathing in through your nose. 

Yeah, but ‘s okay, Joel, she whispered, as to not wake Ellie. The teenage redhead stirred slightly, rolling over in her sleeping bag. 

You sure, sweet pea? Joel asked. You nodded. 

We’re in the middle o’ nowhere, Joel. No clickers gonna find us here. Joel rolled his eyes and sighed, nodding at her to signal she should fall asleep. You lied back down, letting out a long breath before closing your eyes, the small fire crackling lowly. 

The next morning, the smell of stale coffee filled the forest air, and you woke up as Ellie groaned disgustedly.

 How do you drink this stuff? She covered herself with the blanket, trying to block the earthy smell from her nose. You sat up groggily, and smiled at Joel, who was busy mumbling grumpily under his breath about how coffee is the best thing anyone could ever drink and cooking a can of Chef Boyardee’s Ravioli on the makeshift camping stove. You yawned, and got up, rolling your sleeping bag up to prepare for another day of walking. 

C’mon, honey. ‘S time to get up. After we eat, we’re off. You said, nudging Ellie, who was still buried in her blanket. The teenager glared playfully at you before slowly rising, following suit as she put her stuff back in her pack. Joel whistled a high note from where he was cooking, and waved the two girls over.

 C’mon, eat before this food gets cold. Joel said, handing them both small travel plates filled with a rationed serving of the food. Ellie ate quickly, practically breathing in the pasta.

 Calm down, kiddo. Food ain’t goin’ anywhere. Joel laughed, and Ellie flipped him off playfully. 

It’s going in my stomach. She said, and Joel shrugged. You finished your food, smiling at the small family the three had become over the past 8 months. What started off as a simple job evolved into a bond that you didn’t  think could ever be replicated. After the group finished eating, they started again on their journey to find the Fireflies. For a while, the walk was quiet, save for the occasional stumble or painfully corny joke told by Ellie. 

Hey, I know you guys don’t really like talking about before, but what was your favorite food? Ellie asked curiously. You laughed, and Joel smiled. 

Our favorite food? Joel grinned, raising an eyebrow. Ellie sighed. 

Fine, sorry I asked, old man. You let out a low whistle. 

Wow, right for the jugular, huh, kid? You laughed. 

I don’ know about you, Joel, but I used to absolutely love Pop-Tarts. Ellie looked confused. 

What’s a Pop-Tart? You sighed dreamily, and looked up at the forest canopy. 

A Pop-Tart was this… packaged pastry. It had frosting on the top, an’ a filling inside. The best flavor was Strawberry, an’ no-one can tell me otherwise. You shook her head, smiling. Joel scoffed. 

Pop-Tarts were just straight sugar. Provided nothin’ for anyone’s health. You rolled your eyes. 

Oh, fine, Mr. Health Nut. What was your favorite food, then? You challenged him playfully. Joel sighed, thinking. 

Well, I’d hafta say the pancakes I used to get at the IHop near where my house was. They were softer than a cloud, an’ when you put syrup on them-

An’ you say I was unhealthy?

Hush up, will you? Never said I got ‘em every day.

Ellie smirked at the banter, and for a moment, it was as if they were simply on a camping trip, rather than a mission to potentially create a cure using Ellie’s blood.

A couple weeks later, the trio were walking through an old military camp from one of the first days of the Outbreak. You were quiet, your shoulders tensed. Ellie walked slightly ahead, and Joel walked with his best friend. 

You alright, sweet pea? He asked quietly. You nodded. 

Yeah, ‘m fine. Just.. ‘s weird bein’ here. Like a time capsule, but the size of a city block. You looked around. The tarp tents looked almost pathetic, in a way, as well as innocent. You scoffed, walking past the flimsy metal fence. 

Can’t believe we all thought we’d be safe in tarp tents. You shook your head, and Joel smiled softly. 

Yeah, I guess it is pretty ridiculous. The two went quiet, until Joel broke the silence again. 

Where were you? He asked. At your confused expression, he clarified his question. 

I mean, when the outbreak happened. You looked away, and at Ellie, who was looking at old binders. 

I was at home, in New Orleans. My mom left me an’ my 14-year old brother home alone while she went on a trip to Cancun with her boyfriend. I panicked, as we didn’t exactly have a car. We ended up packin’ one bag each an’ hopped on our bikes. We were goin’ as far as we could, an’ barely left the neighborhood when this Runner comes outta god-knows-where, an’ barrels into my brother. Instead o’ tryin’ to fight the said runner, I kept goin’ until I got to one o’ these camps like a coward. You went quiet, biting your lip to prevent the tears that threatened to fall. Joel put a hand on her shoulder. 

No, no, no, sweet pea. That ain’t your fault. You weren’ a coward. That’s another level o’ bravery. You couldn’t control where Runners came out from, or- or where your brother was at a specific moment in time. Joel said reassuringly, and Ellie walked over before you could respond.

 I think we’re getting close to the Fireflies, Joel. I found a stop sign with their symbol on it. Ellie said, jutting a thumb in the general direction of the said sign. You breathed in, looking at Joel and nodding. 

Well, let’s not keep ‘em waitin’, right? She said, smiling softly. Ellie smiled, and walked off, the two adults following her. Ellie turned back toward the two, and in her hand was No Pun Intended: Volume Too. 

I think, since I’m about to save the world, we need some jokes before I become too famous and never have time to talk to you two. Ellie grinned, and Joel rolled his eyes, nodding at her to continue. Ellie dramatically opened the book, clearing her throat.

People are making apocalypse jokes like there’s no tomorrow. She said, and you grimaced jokingly. 

Too soon? Ellie tilted her head. 

No, it’s topical, Joel butted in, smiling. Ellie flipped through a few other pages, until she grinned comically. 

Why did the scarecrow get an award? Ellie asked, looking expectantly at the two. Joel rolled his eyes. 

Uh… he was… outstanding in his field. Joel and you laughed at Ellie’s shocked expression. 

Did you read this? Ellie exclaimed incredulously. Joel shook his head, and you smiled. Suddenly, a click, followed by a hiss sounded behind them. Joel looked behind them, and spotted an air bomb. He quickly ducked, pushing you and Ellie to the ground as the boom filled the air, along with gas. You blinked, your ears ringing. You swore you heard Ellie yelling in the distance, but it sounded so far away. You started to get up, feeling dizzy, before you felt the hard butt of a gun connect with your skull.

You jolted awake, the overgrown outdoors replaced with an aged hospital room. You sat up, and Marlene sat in the chair, one leg up.

 Take it slow, You. My guys didn’t know who you were. You got hit pretty hard. You looked at Marlene, confused as to where Joel and Ellie were. 

Where am I? You asked, your voice hoarse. Marlene looked at the guard that stood at the door. 

St. Mary’s Hospital. She replied. You looked around.

Care to explain where Joel an’ Ellie are? She narrowed her eyes slightly. Marlene crossed her arms, matching her expression. 

Joel’s still asleep. As for Ellie.. she’s just starting to wake up. You looked at her for a moment. 

Can you take me to ‘em, or you gonna make me sit here an’ wait for the next moon landing? Marlene sighed. 

I can take you to Joel. But not Ellie. 

An’ why exactly is that?

Marlene closed her eyes. I don’t want her seeing anyone before surgery. She said the last word gently, almost meek in a way. You stood up. What the he- She was cut off by the guard, who pushed her to the ground. Marlene glared at him before nodding at the door. He took the hint and resumed his post. 

The doctors think that the cordyceps Ellie has have mutated. The cordyceps that tried infecting her when she got bit think she’s a cordycep, and it’s why she’s immune. If we can extract it from her, the doctors can replicate the mutation and- and make a cure. Your eyes widened slightly, the realization dawning on you.

Cordyceps grow inside the brain. She whispered. Marlene nodded. 

Find someone else.

 If I could, I would, but there is no one else. You looked down.

 So, you’re goin’ to kill her. For what, a 30% chance of this thing workin’? Marlene scoffed, and put her head in her hand. 

30% is better than 0, isn’t it? You glared at Marlene. 

You take me to her right now! To both of ‘em. You raised your voice, standing up. Marlene pulled her gun out of her holster, and aimed it at you.

Don’t make a stupid choice, You. You did your job. Let us do ours. Marlene warned. You took a step back. 

I didn’t know this job entailed killin’ a dang kid, Marlene.

Marlene lowered her gun, and looked at the guard. Make sure she doesn’t leave this place. She said sternly, and the guard nodded.

Next thing you knew, the sound of gunshots echoed through the hospital hall, and the guard at your door fell to the ground, limp. Joel opened the door, and pulled you into a quick hug, handing her the worn pack. 

C’mon, let’s go get our girl, huh? Joel said, giving you a shotgun. You smiled. 

Gladly, cowboy. The two charged through the hospital, shooting any Firefly that they came across. Quickly, Joel led You to the pediatric department, and they barged into the operating room. Gun aimed, they stared at the doctor and two nurses. 

All o’ you, turn around and put your hands up. You sternly said. The nurses followed orders, but the doctor panicked, picking up a scalpel. 

I- I can’t let you take her. He shakily said. Joel lifted his pistol and shot him, the nurses yelping fearfully. Joel quickly picked Ellie up off the table, disconnecting the various tubes from her arms. You quickly stopped the bleeding on your arm by putting on a few bandaids. The two quickly hurried out of the hospital, and headed down to the parking garage on the ground floor. You spotted an SUV, and they started to jog toward it, until a certain Firefly came around the corner. 

Joel, you don’t want to do this. Marlene said, her pistol raised. Joel stopped walking, and you stood slightly in front of him. 

You can still do the right thing. Both of you. Marlene breathed. 

We don’t kill kids. An’ either way, a little girl’s fate ain’t yours to decide, Marlene. You shook your head, and Marlene narrowed her eyes. 

It isn’t yours to decide either.  At that, Joel’s eyes flickered with acknowledgment. 

And you know it. Marlene tilted her head, tears in her eyes. You looked back at Joel. 

Go get her in the car, cowboy. You said. Joel shook his head, about to protest. 

I’ll be right behind you. Promise. 

Joel sighed, and reluctantly turned around, hurrying to the SUV. Once he was gone, you turned back to Marlene. 

He doesn’t know, does he-

That ain’t any of your business. Anyways, Joel and I got places to be. So, I’m afraid that I’m gonna have to kill you now.

Marlene’s eyes widened, and she took a step back, but before she got far, you shot her in the stomach. For a few moments, she begged for mercy, blood smeared on the ground.

You’d just come after her.

You and Joel sat in the front seats of the SUV, quiet. Joel rested his head on one hand as he drove, and you struggled to stay awake despite the sunniness. You and Joel both looked in the rear view mirror as they heard Ellie stir. The redhead sat up slowly, groggy from the anesthesia.

What happened?

You looked away from the rearview mirror, and Joel carried the conversation, framing the careful lie the two adults had crafted as truth. Ellie looked too tired and drained to be physically distraught, but the glint that faded from her eyes said it all. She let out a soft oh and lied back down on the backseat, facing the backrest and going back to sleep. Joel looked at you, who shrugged silently. He looked back at the road, and the rest of the drive out of Salt Lake City was silent.

TEN MILES AWAY FROM JACKSON, WYOMING

Joel huffed annoyedly, lifting his head from the hood of the old car. 

Well, looks like she’s tapped out. Gonna have to walk the rest of the way. Should only be a few hours though. We’ve done worse.

You smiled at your best friend, and nodded at Ellie. 

C’mon, kiddo. Don’t wanna be the last one back to civilization, right?

You said, and Ellie looked up from her scar, grinning. If Ellie was one thing, it was competitive. The two girls raced to the creek, and then to the tree they used to climb up onto the hill. Joel caught up, and they all started walking toward Jackson. 

Hey, wait.

You and Joel looked back at Ellie. Your smile dropped at Ellie’s somber expression, and she turned fully toward the teenager.

Back in Boston—back when I was bitten—I wasn't alone. My best friend was there. And she got bit too. We didn't know what to do. So… She says, "Let's just wait it out. Y'know, we can be all poetic and just lose our minds together." I'm still waiting for my turn.

Joel looked at Ellie sadly, and shook his head. 

None of that is on you, Ellie.

You nodded in support of his statement, and spoke up.

Both of us struggled for a long, long time with survivin’. But no matter what, you keep findin’ something to fight for. Now that might not be what you wanna-

Swear to me. Both of you. Swear to me that everything you said about the Fireflies is true.

You looked taken aback, as did Joel. But after a moment, they both nodded, and promised her. Ellie nodded slightly, and she hesitated for a minute, analyzing them. Finally, she sighed. 

Okay.

dbf boyfriend! Joel (I need this man)

dbf boyfriend Joel because he’d hold you tight when you got nightmares. He’d whisper sweet nothings, saying “it’s okay, I’m here, there ain’t nothin’ tha’s gonna hurt you here.” In that soothing southern drawl, drowsiness from waking up becoming obvious through his gravelly voice

dbf boyfriend Joel because when you finally tell your parents about your relationship, he’d defend you, saying “obviously, we didn’t mean for this to happen, but we wouldn’t o’ done it if it wasn’t somethin’ real.”

dbf boyfriend Joel because when he comes home from a long day at his contracting gig, he’d find you in the kitchen and wrap his arms around your waist and kiss right behind your ear, asking you about your day when he’s bone tired and in need of a massage.

this is my first time doing something like this so pls if you have suggestions/requests/tips im all ears <333

Ok but Pedro Pascal-

*internally screaming* according to my friends, *externally swinging my legs whenever I see a pic of him and smiling like a little kid.*

I’m really bored, so I’m going to write a crappy fanfic of Joel at some point soon. Dunno if itll have a title until I finish it but yeah.

Passing Ships #1

Chapter One: Lifeless Frame

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader Word count: 1.7k Summary: You live next door to Joel. Your older brother knew him and had smuggled with him in the past. You make your rations by taking bodies from trucks and burning them. However, the body of a 15 year old girl catches you off guard causing you to have a panic attack and Joel attempts to comfort you. Warnings: mention of bodies, fluff, panic attack, anxiety, sleepy Joel. AN; This is the first fic ive ever written but im making a series out of this. im 20 and i have no idea what im doing i just thought this would be fun to write and it was. Please give me some feedback I would love to hear what people think ❤️

Harsh sunlight peaks through the dusty shades of your so-called room and you toss and turn in your bed as you try to fight the sun's gaze. Sleep never comes easy to you. It never really did as your older brother Jake playfully recalled to you every time you complain.  

“Can never get any fucking sleep with you around. Too much wriggling” he’d say before he ran to Portland. You close your eyes and you’re met with that pursed smirk you know all too well.

It was just meant to be a ‘quick trip’ as your Mum said on the plane to New York from Liverpool, where Jake recalled being completely content. There was nothing quick about it though. The outbreak prevented you from going home. You couldn’t remember much and it left you with an empty calling, like you knew you didn’t belong here. You have always longed for more and you always will. You and Jake don’t talk about her much anymore. You can feel it though just like he can, there’s no need to talk about it and you’re both comfortable with that. Your accent hangs loosely from your lips whilst your brothers remains, despite the years being surrounded by Americans.

You languidly roll yourself off the stained mattress, even when it longs for you to crawl back in and shield yourself from the world. You take one more glance at the imprint your body left behind before sighing and stretching yourself awake. You sniff your tank top, deciding on whether or not it's ready to wear for another day or two. It's not like anyone cares besides you anyway and no one's got the time to worry about whether they smell or not. They're too busy struggling out every breath they can, whilst they still have breath.

You nod with satisfaction that you don’t smell like hot garbage. Your jeans hang just below your stomach and are rough as they rip your thighs to shreds as you walk to the bathroom. The standard toothpaste rationed out to you every month tastes bitter and bland on your tongue. Your brothers' hands-offs, shirts, jeans and jackets are all you have as a reminder of how much he used to take care of you. Everything he had to give. It all went to you.

You brace yourself on the sink as you push out all the breath out of your lungs in an attempt to shake the thundering against the side of your head. Once your shoes are secure for their large size against your smaller foot, you aggressively open the door. Frustrated as to what job you will have to be doing today in exchange for mediocre ration cards for food that catches in your throat as you swallow down the bitter aftertastes.

You grimace at the job card given to you yesterday: ‘Waste removal’, meaning taking poor souls from trucks and burning their bodies to a crisp. The thought makes you pause before you see the scruffy broad shoulders out of the corner of your eye make their way towards the door next to yours. You acknowledge his presence with a nod, and he stares blankly through his eyebrows. A passive remark that hes not going to offer you the same consideration, despite knowing your brother before he made his way to Portland. You scoff, irritation bubbling in your chest. Before you can dig yourself a grave, you lock the door to your room and watch as he opens the door to his before slamming it shut behind him, making the door frame creek due to the force. Fuck you then.

You carry endless bodies to the fire pit from the truck. your eyes watering due to the fumes from the fire which licks at the air. It grows as people continue to chuck the bodies in. You dont think about the time passing. Your mind is set on the outcome for this shit job. You all do the work that they cant be bothered doing. They dont want to take responsability for the bdies so they leave it to the lot of you. Its easier to forget they were people once if you throw them in trucks and send them away I suppose.

You’re coming to the end of your 6-hour shift and pushing yourself through the grueling process of removing the lifeless frames from the truck that came in 3 times a week. Frames that were once filled with people. Up until now you have been rather good at keeping the wall in your mind solid. Not thinking too much about what they were. You couldn’t let yourself realize what you were doing. You turn and your eyes don’t open but you can see it plain as day. The air escaped your lungs momentarily as you saw the last limp body of what you presumed to be a young girl in the truck. They couldn’t have been more than 15 based on their height and weight. Their face was wrapped tight, but you couldn’t help but picture their presence in your mind. What they sounded like. The thoughts and pictures were swirling in your brain, washing away all your other senses. You could feel your chest constrict as you throw her into the flames. You hold the emotions that want to roll down your face at bay. Holding that feeling of the weight in your throat and stomach.  

You make quick work of collecting your ration cards for your work that day. The icy feeling in your sternum thawing and you know you can't hold it for long. Night is casting shadows over the decrepit buildings, and you can feel the atmosphere swiftly change dark as you quicken your pace towards your room. You don’t even make it 3 feet in front of your door before the feeling in your chest breaks loose and shatters through you. You can physically feel the lump in your throat grow and harden. The tears sting your eyes, and you slid down the wall clasping at your mouth and neck. 

No sounds escape. You won't let them. The tears lick at your face, and you can taste them as they slip onto your lips. You sit in silence and breathe deeply, your face grimacing. A child. Shot and killed. You rip the gloves off your hands that had touched her.  

Just as the breath in your lungs returns and your vision clears enough to see the moldy wall in front of you, you take one final moment to collect your remaining thoughts and lock them away. The door to your right creaks open and out comes a dark figure. You don’t have to guess as to who it is.  

“I heard your brother made his way into Portland”. The low, hoarse voice startles you for a second despite knowing he was there. You hadnt expected him to make any attempt to talk to you. He had no reason to after all and Joel isn’t the kind of man to make conversation with anyone let alone you. It wasnt that he didnt like you. You knew that it was pure disinterest. You didnt have anything he wanted and you were content with that knowledge for some reason as wherever he and Tess went someone always ended up bloody and you happened to like your face the way it was. You cast your eyes over him, hed obviously been asleep from the look of his hair, the way it sticks up and out.

“Yeah. He...Uh...got out of this shithole”. You chuckle dryly and sniff back the emotions laid bare on your face. Even with the veil of darkness on your faces, you could tell he was reading your face like a book or trying to. It's certainly not hard to tell what was reeling in your head. He understands. You know he does. He just doesn’t wear his thoughts on his face or anywhere else for that matter. They're hidden. They don’t breach the surface. Not for you anyway and you don’t want them too. You don’t need anyone besides Jake. You’ve been just fine with him. Your brother can read you like no one else and you love that. The unspoken trust and dedication towards each other are something you must have in this world. Almost like a father and daughter considering hes closer to Joels age than yours.

“Always a good one. Never sold me short, even when he could” Joels face is stern but there is a sleepy softness to it like he hasn’t finished putting his mask on yet and the menacing aura you and everyone else is familiar with is just ebbing under his skin. Waiting for a reason. You drag your limbs upward from your place on the floor. He steps back and gives you a nod similar to the one you gave him earlier.  

“I’ll see ya, Joel” You groan as you stand and make the rest of the way over to your room but before you have a chance to put your key in the door, Joel moves calmly but swiftly to stop you by taking your arm. You snap your face to him and watch as he tries to come up with words like he wasn’t expecting this of himself, and neither were you.  

“Dont think. Its better that way” he says lowly as if he doesn’t want anyone else but you to hear. His gaze lingers on your lip as you nod and accept his words. He doesn't even know your name and yet he exudes such familiarity and softness even though you’ve never spoken to him. He loosens the light grip on your arm, and you lick your lips, the taste of your salty tears still lingers on them, a reminder of why you were so exhausted. You quickly wriggle out of his grasp, overwhelmed. Turning the key and moving through your apartment, closing the door behind you with a light force. You don’t hear Joel move; you only hear the soft sound of his breathing on the other side of the door before the sound of his is closing once again

What the actual fuck.

You are left breathless as before. Although, the delightful fire in your lower belly causes your legs to press together. Ah. You hadnt expected Joel Miller to coax the screams from your head and lash them at the wall but you werent complaining. 

No.

Your focus was finding safe passage to Jake. This was fucking stupid, you dont have time for this. You kick off everything besides your underwear and curl yourself up under the covers. Your skin burns on your arm, where he touched you. His skin lingers on yours and with that knowledge you somehow find sleep that night. 

reading this fic for breakfast rn and i-

ellie williams x fem reader ୨୧ ♡

use of vibrator, overstimulation, fingering, pet names, squirting, light degrading, praise kink, dumbification, bimbofication, lesbians only dpmo

drabble !! if this looks or sounds familiar, this is from my old deactivated blog @/loonadaworld ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭ i’m also still working on my english writing, pls bear w me

' you can give me another one, right angel ? ‘ she spoke softly, eyes observing you in front of her, how your face and body reacted to what she had you under. hardened tits poking through the thin material of your white top, and your panties thrown to the ground. you were on your third orgasm, making your way to the fourth. the toy's low vibration making you squirm with the overstimulation, urging you to clench your thighs. in which you did, only resulting in her hand spreading your legs back open, her other still holding the vibrator against your bud.

‘ nah, don't give me that shit, you can take it, know you can. ‘ her words making you whine with furrowed eyebrows. ‘ t's too much ellie.. can’t— ahh— ‘ she increased the pressure by one, which had cut you off as you barely choked up your words. ‘ poor baby ‘ she mouthed and only held back a smile, your legs quivering under her touch, your breath heavy but slow paced. ‘ one more, princess. just like before, don't give out on me now. " she smirked, watching the way your core would pulsate.

her hand that held your thigh apart now separating the folds of your cunt, making your hips buck. using her two fingers, she collected the slick that glistened in the moonlight from your previous orgasms. without warning, she slid her middle finger in making you gasp, the contact from the toy and her finger inside of you making you throw your head back. she watched your faces as she slowly pumped in and out of you, bringing the vibrator down one notch to it's original pressure from before. she kept her eyes on your face a bit longer, before slowly slipping in her index finger and making it two, having you jolt from pleasure you began to feel.

‘ you like this now, don't you ? already being needy, as usual. ‘ she stated as her fingers slipped in and out at an average pace halfway. not fast, not slow, but you wanted it faster. she knew you did, based on the way you were clenching around her and attempted to fuck yourself on her fingers, which you hadn't even noticed you were doing, too caught up in how good it felt. ‘ that feel good, baby ? yeah ? ‘ she teased, just five seconds ago you blabbered about it being too much and now you're working towards your peek, desperately.

‘ mm more— please, feels so good. ‘ you moaned out. a bead of sweat beginning to trickle down the side of your forehead, the temperate felt humid compared to when you first orgasmed. the tiny mewls that escaped your mouth were music to her ears. just with that, her fingers reached your spot knuckles deep. her gaze was calculated to your cunt, watching your hole clench as if wanting something more to fill it. ‘ there she is .. you close ? ‘ she averted her eyes to your face. ‘ yes, yes — ahh.. please, 'm so closeee, ‘ you're gasping, arching your back from the bed and shooting her a pleaded look out of eagerness. ‘ i got you, you look so pretty right now, you know ? ‘ she’s not asking, she tells you before the pace of her fingers quickens.

slipping in and out so easily as she turned up two notches on the toy against your puffy clit, striking the pleasure in you two times better. ‘ fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god— wanna cum, els .. 'm gonna cum — ! ‘ you squealed at the stimulation added, your walls were clenching around her digits, feeling your entire body rush with tense. ‘ such a good girl, that's it, princess. knew you could do it. ' your legs start to shake slightly, gripping the sheets tight as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten and tighten by the second. ‘ holy shittt— ‘ your lewd sounds filling the room before you're making a mess all over her fingers, she’d drilling them into you faster than she had before.

‘ fuck, you're squirting. ‘ she spoke as the cream coated her fingers each time she pumped into you, she felt her breath quiver at the sight, and oh, how she loved seeing you in this state. your cum gushing out of your tight cunt with your liquids splattering onto your thighs, the bed, the toy, including her arm. ‘ uhuh, there you go, cmon, let it all out for me, gorgeous. ‘ she cooed, she leaves you in a drenched and twitching mess, helping you through the end of your orgasm. you're panting, barely processing what just happened.

a wave of embarrassment coming over you as she moved the vibrator away from your clit and pulled her fingers out of you, clear juices immediately leaking onto the bed. ‘ fuck, i'm sorry— i didn't think that .. ‘ you were panicked, trying to get the right words to come out. ' there’s no reason to be sorry. if anything, you did better than good, baby. ‘ she looked up at you, noticing that her comment made you flustered as she huffed a laugh, reaching over and giving you a peck on the lips.

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 © 𝐘𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐋 | all rights reserved — do not modify, copy, or plagiarize any of my works.

guys if you want to get your heart ripped open then put back together again multiple times go read apocalypse by @ whoreforjamescook on wattpad. it’s an ellie williams x oc ff (it’s by me)

Wattpad

Apocalypse [Ellie Williams]

in which two sixteen year olds find love in the middle of trouble [aged up!ellie williams x female oc] [pre the last of...

★ soccer player!ellie + cheerleader!reader

content warnings: modern!au, college soccer player!ellie, female reader, some very mild sexual references ( but still sexual references nonetheless so minors do not interact ) + that's about it!

word count: 2k

⟡ ellie had clocked you immediately – leaning against the wall, water bottle in hand, looking as effortlessly pretty as ever and already dressed in your cheerleading uniform. you were too engrossed in conversation with a teammate to pay her presence any mind as she made her way down the corridor, hair tied back in a low bun, gear bag gripped in her right hand. noticing you had been almost automatic, but as she brushed past you and neared the entrance to the teams' changing room, she hesitated for a moment. her eyes lingered a little longer than they should have, long enough to admire how you looked in your attire (as if she didn't see you in the exact same uniform every week), and to also clock the small, dark blue bow that decorated the top of the ponytail that hung down your back. she bit back a smile at the sight of it, before making her way around the corner and disappearing into the locker room.

⟡ it hadn't always been this way. you weren't even sure of the moment it had first started. one moment you were strangers – just two people who caught glimpses of each other on the field a couple of times a week – and the next you were swapping playful comments across pre-game hallways, and purposeful glances across the vast, open playing field. that's how it had been for months. just playful and innocent –nothing more. you couldn't remember when things had shifted. perhaps it had been at dina's party, when the two of you had shared a joint and you made a snarky comment about her shitty roll, just for her to shoot back that she was sure "a pom-pom princess couldn't do any better." after that, the back and forth became easy – almost like a pre-game ritual, some might say. the two of you faultlessly found each other, like muscle memory, and your chemistry was electric, always buzzing there – low, but impossible to ignore. things began changing, slowly. brazen bets turned into low whispers, lips flush against ears in crowded rooms; playful jabs turned into gentle touches that lingered, warm and careful, across each other's lower backs. there had been moments, plenty of opportunities for things to happen. where things almost happened. the odd afterparty where your hand had remained wrapped around her wrist just a second too long as she led you through the packed room, or during an alcohol-induced game of truth or dare where you had somehow found yourself pressed against her inside a closet, both of you breathless with drunken laughter while taking full advantage of the tight space. but somehow – somehow, the line had never been crossed.

⟡ she couldn't help herself. it was getting your attention in that moment, or having to wait until you saw her on the field, and ellie was feeling impatient. as she passed you a second time, her knuckles purposefully brushed your shoulder blades and her fingers caught themselves in the ends of your hair, where she gently tugged at the end of your ponytail. it was harmless – one quick pull, barely more than a light flick of her fingers, but still enough to pluck your scalp at the root and pull your head back slightly. "nice ribbon."

⟡ you whipped your head around, your hand coming up to touch the back of your hair as your eyes fell on the culprit. you blinked, a small grin tugging at the corners of your lips as you realised who was to blame, watching as ellie continued down the hallway, never once breaking her stride. how hadn't you seen her arrive? you shot her a knowing look when she took another glance at you from over her shoulder, a shit-eating grin spreading over her face. "keep it cute, cheerleader." oh, she was on top form tonight.

⟡ the warm up drills were already in full swing when you found the perfect spot on the sidelines to watch, leaning your full weight against the metal fence with folded arms. the neat grass was a vibrant green as it stretched before you, and the evening was humming with that unmistakable game-day energy. ellie was already tuned in, everything else around her tuned out – her movements were fluid, the ball dancing between her cleats, almost feeling like an extension of her foot. you watched as she moved in and out of the cones, dribbling the ball with a kind of confident control that was unlike anything else– so magnetic. it was no wonder ellie was always named mvp; nobody else did it like her– nobody even came close. as she shifted position, ready to pass the ball to a teammate, she glanced in your direction from beneath her lashes. her brow furrowed a bit, a hint of a smirk wavering on her lips, before she looked away. you knew she had seen you, and she knew you were watching.

⟡ the floodlights cast ellie in a wash of brilliant white as she moved fast across the field, almost too fast to keep up with – her footwork effortless and fluidity unstoppable. she was all anybody could look at– not only because she played center forward, but because her energy was magnetic. she hadn't even broken a sweat, despite now pushing well over the seventy-minute mark, and her gaze remained focused and steadfast – except for the couple of instances when she would reach a hand up to push the loose strands of hair from her eyes. her command of the game was impossible to ignore. and the power she held over her opponents was undeniable. she was in her element.

⟡ your squad was maintaining perfection; pom-poms shaking in the air, catchy chants cutting through the noise and hitting the crowd from every angle, keeping their spirits suspended at a new high. the volume of their whoops and claps was almost deafening, but even amidst all of that, one thing was clear; ellie was unstoppable. every aspect of her emanated determination; the way her eyes narrowed, muscles and tendons rippling beneath her skin as her body weaved through her opponents', while her feet scooped and dragged the ball like it was tethered to her. then, with one calculated strike, she sent it hurtling past the goalie, straight into the back of the net with shocking accuracy. the crowd, yourself included, went wild– they always did for their star athlete.

⟡ she always knew where to look. ellie had managed to perfect the skill of seeking you out in the hub of onlookers over months and months, getting it down to a fine art as if you were anchored to her gaze. she had already stolen an abundance of short glances in your direction that night, watching you do what you did best– she loved watching you cheer; your squad was beat-for-beat perfect, and everything you did was infectious. but the way you looked at each other tonight, in particular, felt different from any other time. after scoring the final goal in the last two minutes and catapulting your school into the playoffs, her eyes were quick to find yours amidst the deafening roar of the crowd and the crush of her teammates.

⟡ the flash of her dark blue number 7 jersey kept the two of you linked together between the mass of bodies that piled onto her in celebratory jumps and shouts, their hands clapping against her back and shoulders. her gaze never left you, and a wide smile spread over her face, like a kid in a candy store. she loved knowing you had been there to watch, to see her at her best, to be a part of her triumph. but ellie knew to give credit where credit was due – she could run the field, for sure, but there was no denying she played better when you were there to cheer her on.

⟡ "look who's still here." her voice was laced with that same sarcastic edge that you loved to hate, and you glanced over your shoulder to watch her lean against the doorframe of the locker room. "waiting for me?" without missing a beat, you shot back, "i could ask you the same thing, seeing as you're the one seeking me out." you swung your legs around and pivoted your body on the bench to face her completely, eyebrows raising. "also, perv, there could have still been girls changing in here. don't you knock?"

⟡ "oh, i'm only interested in seeing you naked." ellie's grin was effortless, and it only grew wider as she watched your mouth fall open slightly, whilst you desperately tried to bite back a grin of your own; you weren't very successful. "you wish, williams," you rose from your seat, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder before making your way towards the door. "maybe when you score four goals, yeah?" you teased, followed by a small chuckle. you watched as the girl's eyes widened momentarily and she let out a low whistle, sparking a slightly competitive fire.

⟡ she loved a challenge. "ooh, careful. you know i might just do it." ellie stepped out of the doorway and into the corridor to let you exit the locker room, leaning against the wall opposite. "think you could?" "if i'd had another two minutes out there tonight, you'd be down to your panties by now." her quick responses were almost addictive, each one sparking a certain sort of prickling heat beneath your skin – a reckless desire to push the possibilities further and further. "bold of you to assume you would have lasted two more minutes. could tell you were getting tired after that second goal." you shot her a sideways glance as you walked past her, tongue pushing up against the inside of your cheek before you spoke again. "...also bold of you to assume i'm wearing panties." ellie lifted her gaze to the ceiling for a moment, catching her bottom lip between her teeth as she processed that devastating visual. "you're dangerous, you know that?" she pushed off the wall and fell into step beside you, her shoulder brushing yours. you chuckled lightly to yourself. "in all seriousness, though, you were great tonight."

⟡ ellie relished in praise from anyone, but from you, it felt different – it made her feel euphoric. untouchable. in one fluid motion and without even thinking about it she switched her bag to her opposite hand and draped her arm around your shoulders, as if she had done so a hundred times before. "yeah?" "yeah," you nodded, reaching up and looping your fingers loosely through hers as you made your way outside, into the cool summer air. "you're always great."

⟡ "mm. maybe it was that little ribbon that did it. a good luck charm," ellie doused her earlier comment in buttery praise, which caused you to roll your eyes playfully and earned a low chuckle from the girl. "gonna have to wear it for me every game, now." you furrowed your brow. "pretty sure you were still scoring goals even on the nights i didn't have a bow in my hair, don't know if i'd call it a good luck charm." you teased, cheeks flushing very slightly. ellie paused for a second, like she was actually considering it, before looking over at you with a small smile. "ah, well. maybe it's just you, then."

⟡ her response was faultless – just enough to make your chest ache in the most delicious way, a certain sort of yearning drenching you from head to toe – and you could do nothing but grin right back at her. "okay, fine. but please don't pull my hair again..." you paused, toying with the idea of whether or not to continue. "...well, not until i ask." ellie's jaw flexed, and she dragged her head back and forth in a slow shake. "just two more minutes, i swear to god. that's all i needed."

author's note: this was fun! very very fun. i love giving college / soccer player!ellie her deserved air time *bites my knuckle* like bro she is so hot it hurts? i need her? anyway let me know how you feel about this!!! and if you want a part twoooo maybeeee? ok byeee love u see u soon 𖹭

Do u guys have any tlou fanfics recommendations I’m literally so tired of (smut) where’s the drama!?!?! Please I’m literally so bored now at days 😭

just because I said maybe you should come over (college ellie williams x reader)

college!au ellie williams x fem reader

synopsis- you can't sleep and invite your girlfriend(?) over, she obviously says yes. p.s. this is my first real post lol not proofread srry and reader has no roommate

cw: swearing, sexual themes (no smut tho) ,fluffyyy!!

You rolled around in your sheets, but your mind wouldn't shut off, thoughts of your day with ellie swirled in your head. She was so gorgeous when you first met her in your shared class you could barely even talk. Now you'd been on two dates, you'd kissed a few time and such.... She was really funny and had had basically taken over the entirety of your thoughts.

In a moment of impulsivity you decided to text her, even though it was 1 am you figured she'd still be awake, her being quite a night owl.

Hey, are you up?

After a few minutes your phone vibrated.

yeah.. why are you up? are you alright?

i'm alright:)

just can't sleep, would be better if u were here lol

You imedeitely regretted saying such a thing because she stopped typing, fuck. i should not have said that, were taking things slow, i was keeping things chill, cool, normal, unserious.

After a few minutes you were literally going crazy, why was she not answering she could a least say something funny like "yeah lol probably would be ;)" but nope, nothing.

Soon enough it was 1:27am and still nothing so you tried to finally go back to sleep again. But it was actually worse now then it was 40 minutes ago. Until you heard a really loud knock on your door, probably waking up your next door neighbor, the dorm wall were really thin. Who the fuck would be at your door at this hour, unless they had the wrong place (unfortunately not the first time in sucha large dorm complex).

You swiftly grabbed the giant water bottle next to your bed incase you were in need of knocking someone over the head. You went up to the door, that unfortunately did not have a peephole so you could secretly look out as who was there.

So you opened it.

And there she was Ellie was at your fucking door in plaid pajama pants and a red long sleeve top . (shes so hot omg)

"hey" she said

"what the hell are you doing her?" you returned.

"Jesus, your the one who said it would be better this way y/n" she looked slightly taken aback.

"Sorry thats not what i meant, els. come in please"

She walked through the frame and you shut the door behind her.

"what I meant is its nearing 2 in the morning, and your not, you know... in your bed."

She started smirking a little and you could tell that the teasing for your most recent text would begin in 3, 2, 1...

"Seems thats not what you wanted, based on the pick me boy shite text you sent me very recently. huh?"

Yuck, she was right.

"sorry I think my lack of sleep has deluded me into thinking we're like more than we are or whatever. its stupid, i'm sorry" is all you could think of saying

"No, don't be sorry, I'd literally drive all night if you really wanted me to be here with you" she responded and it seemed really genuine. You could see a slight blush rising in her cheeks.

"ohhh really..." you joked.

"really" she replied softly walking closer towards you before moving her hand to the back of you neck and leaning in to kiss you. It was one of those really smiley kisses where your teeth may almost clash. You could taste toothpaste on her tongue as if she had already been fully ready for bed before her arrival.

Your heart was definitely beating faster than usual.

You were the first to pull away, unfortunately.

"you're already here so it seems only right that I invite you to stay"

"didn't you already do that?" she laughs, she had a truly beautiful laugh.

"shut up" you said gaily. (get it gay-ly, sorry)

You moved to your bed, just laid there together, as if it was a normality, like if wasn't the first time. It was comfortable silence, until ellie told some stupid joke that made you guys laugh for what seemed like ages. Then you fell into one of the easiest and peaceful sleeps you'd had in forever. It was nice, because she was there.

liking it so far…

get excited!!

for a gen tlou fic…

are we hoping for it to be w/ reader but no use of y/n or an oc? either way they will have the same backstory, but if i can choose more specifics and the name of the mc, i can incorporate nicknames and yada yada yada. lmk

thinking about writing about someone born right before the outbreak and them eventually crossing paths with ellie and joel and/or jackson. like a self insert kinda thing but not necessarily a romance? i have some really cool ideas…

does anyone know why every tlou writer i’ve seen, have their comments turned off. i’ve just scrolled through the whole of ellie and abby tags and all the writers comments have been turned of. please tell me what’s going on and it better not be bcuz of that smau situation 🙏🙏 i want to spread love to all the beautiful writers out there😔🤞

manny setting you and abby up on a blind date, even though you’re “just friends” 𓂃⊹ ࣪ ˖

──────

“You owe me,” Manny said, tossing a towel at Abby as she finished a set.

“For what?” She chuckled, catching it midair. She was trying to drown him out and finish her workout, but he was making it damn near impossible.

“That patrol I covered for you last week? Come on. One drink. One dinner. I set you up with someone cool. Trust me.” Manny grinned, leaning up against the barbell rack.

“I hate when you say that,” she muttered, wiping her face, rolling her eyes as she glared back up at him.

Manny clutched a hand over his heart. “She’s smart, funny, not annoying. You’ll actually like her.”

Abby raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “And what’s the catch?”

“No catch.” He held up his hands. “Just… be at the mess hall tonight. Eighteen hundred. I promise you’ll be glad you went.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “It’s gonna suck. I don’t wanna waste my time.”

“Come on, hermana. If it’s awful, I owe you a week of patrol coverage.” Manny replied, unfazed as he reached out to shake Abby’s shoulders.

Abby sighed, pressing the towel against the back of her neck, trying not to smile. “Manny. You say that like your word means anything. If it’s awful, I’ll lock you in the supply closet myself.”

“You’ll thank me later,” he said with a wink, finally walking away and leaving Abby to finish her routine.

── .✦

I sat on the edge of my bed, unlacing my boots, when a knock hit the door. I opened it to find Manny already leaning on the doorframe with a ridiculous grin.

“No,” I said immediately.

“Oh yes. You’re going out tonight.”

I squinted at him, raising an eyebrow. “What kind of ‘out’?”

“Blind date,” he said. “Before you say no—they’re solid. Bit serious, but big heart. Strong as hell.” He shrugged. “I figured that’d be your type.”

I hesitated, wary. “What’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch. Just dinner in the mess at eighteen hundred. You need to get out more.” He smiled, poking me in the ribs.

“Is this some kind of prank or something…?” I groaned, rubbing my forehead.

“Do I look like a man who plays pranks?”

“Yes, actually you do. Because you are.” I respond smugly, pushing him out of the doorway.

He snorted, turning away. “Just go. Please.”

── .✦

The mess hall space within the stadium had once been a cafeteria, now dressed up with mismatched linens and strings of warm lights that someone (Manny) had hung with care. It wasn’t fancy, but he tried. Like everything else we’d built here.

I sat at the table first, my knee bouncing restlessly with barely contained anxiety. I hadn’t asked for this. Manny had cornered me this morning, and then again during rounds, spun something about “someone thoughtful, serious, into books,” and I’d caved out of equal parts curiosity and peer pressure.

Abby walked in two minutes late, her hair swept back into a quick braid, and a clean shirt on. I did a double take, standing up from the table. She immediately stopped in her tracks when she saw me. We both stood there for a second. Confused. Suspicious.

“…Hey,” I said slowly, stepping closer, a bit cautious.

“Hey,” Abby echoed, her brow furrowing.

“Wait. Are you here for…?” I looked around the room slowly.

“No way.” Abby let out a low laugh, running a hand down her face. “Manny?”

“Yeah. Manny said I had a date.”

We stared at each other for a moment, then both broke out into a fit of soft laughter, something easy and fond settling between us.

“Oh my God,” Abby mumbled under her breath, shaking her head. “That bastard.” We both laughed.

“So we’re each other’s blind date… cool.” I sighed, thinking about heading back to my dorm.

A moment passed between us. Abby rubbed the back of her neck. “You wanna just stay? Make it dinner anyway?”

I nodded, a small smile tugging at my lips. “We’re already here. Might as well enjoy it.”

We found a quieter table near the back, away from the louder patrol squads trading stories and jabbing each other over canned chili. The mess hall wasn’t exactly candlelit, but under the dim overheads and faded posters on the wall, the space felt a little more intimate than usual.

“Guess we’re already past the awkward first impressions.” I muttered, gesturing to the chair across from me.

“Guess so,” Abby said, sitting down. “He’s a real piece of work.”

I smiled, a little soft, a little teasing. “I would’ve said yes if you asked me yourself, y’know.”

Abby’s ears turned a little pink. “Maybe I will next time.”

“Next time…” I mumbled to myself, fingers wrapped around my mug. “So, this isn’t a date.”

“Definitely not,” Abby agreed, a little too quickly.

“Just… two friends being tricked by a mutual idiot.”

“Exactly.”

We both smiled, but something hung in the air. Quieter than laughter, a little heavier than coincidence.

“Well, if this was a date, it wouldn’t be the worst.” I said softly.

Abby looked up. “Yeah?”

I smiled. “Yeah.”

Abby grinned. “Then maybe I’ll pay next time. Stadium rations and all.”

Dinner was simple. Lentils, rehydrated steak, and overcooked carrots. Whatever passed as a meal these days. Abby glanced down at her plate. “Luxury...”

“Don’t be a snob,” I teased, poking at my own food with a fork. “It’s got… protein?” I shrug.

“And seasoning that tastes like the floor.” Abby mumbled, her lips tightening.

I laughed softly, and Abby looked up at the sound, catching the way my eyes crinkled slightly when I smiled. The awkwardness melted fast. We already knew each other’s tells, each other’s quiet humor. We ate while talking about patrol rotations, about the book I had picked up from the trading post, about how one of the younger recruits had nearly shot their own foot.

“You clean up nice, by the way,” I added, trying to be casual but sincere.

Abby glanced down at her plain black t-shirt and jeans. “This is… me trying.”

“It works.” I answered warmly, taking a bite of my carrots.

Abby watched me for a second longer than she meant to. “You don’t look too terrible either.”

I raised a brow, amused. “Wow, what a charmer.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t usually do the whole date thing.” She responded, her voice going a bit quiet.

“Neither do I,” I said, voice softer now, a bit more honest. “But this doesn’t feel… weird. Not with you.”

Abby was quiet for a minute, her jaw working like she was chewing on a thought. “Yeah. I was kind of relieved when I saw it was you.”

“Same,” I responded, leaning forward and nudging her boot lightly under the table. “Way better than some sweaty patrol guy.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Abby huffed a laugh, finally relaxing into the conversation. “He played us. Got you to go, got me to go, and left us here like it’s some romcom setup.”

“Joke’s on him,” I said, softly. “You’re not bad company.”

There was a brief pause, not awkward, but full. Warm. I tilted my head slightly. “Have you ever… thought about it?”

Abby blinked. “Thought about what?”

“Me and you,” I mumbled softly, picking at my food. “Not seriously or anything, of course. It’s silly.”

Abby’s throat bobbed with a quiet swallow. “Maybe. Once or twice.”

I looked down at my plate, smiling into it. Neither of us said anything for a long moment, just the clatter of trays and distant conversation around us filling the space.

Then I said, teasing again, “If I’d known it was you, I might’ve actually brushed my hair.”

Abby gave me a playful glance. “That’s how it always looks.”

“Shut up,” I said, laughing again.

Abby grinned. “You look nice. Always do.”

My cheeks flushed at her compliment, and I tried to hide my smile behind my fork.

The “date” label faded, until it didn’t. The air shifted after the shared cookie we agreed to split “because it’d be a waste.” Abby handed me the bigger half without thinking. I paused, looking at the cookie, then at Abby. “You didn’t even fight me on it.”

Abby shrugged. “You like the soft center.”

There was a moment of silence. My brows softened just slightly. “You remember that?”

“I remember a lot about you,” Abby said, quiet now, then took a sip from her tea as if to cover it.

I looked down at the cookie, then broke off a piece and passed it to Abby. “Split the soft center, then.”

Our fingers brushed. Abby’s jaw flexed slightly, a muscle twitching.

“This still isn’t a date,” I murmured, my eyes flickering up to hers.

“Nope,” Abby said, eyes on her hand.

── .✦

We slipped out of the mess hall and into the open walkway, the stadium quiet in the way it only ever was after curfew, when most had gone to their bunks and the air was left to echo through the old corridors. The moonlight slanted through the upper windows, casting soft pools of light that guided our way. Abby walked a little slower than usual. The air between us felt different. The denial a little thinner. Glances a little longer.

“You didn’t have to walk me back,” I said, hands in my pockets, voice gentle.

Abby shrugged one shoulder. “Figured I should, since I’m such a great date and all.”

I smiled faintly. “Oh, so it was a date?”

Abby smirked but didn’t meet my eyes. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

We reached the hallway that led to my room. I paused outside my door, looking up at Abby. Her gaze softened a little in the low light. “I had a good time,” I said quietly.

Abby nodded. “Me too.”

For a second, it felt like neither of us knew whether to linger or say goodnight. My hand hovered over the door handle, but I didn’t turn it yet. Abby glanced down, eyes flicking briefly to my lips, then back up.

I gave a soft, teasing smile. “Goodnight, Abby.”

Abby’s voice was lower than usual when she replied. “’Night.”

But she didn’t go right away. She leaned in, barely brushing her shoulder against mine.

“Meet me in the greenhouse tomorrow afternoon?” She asked.

I nodded, just once, eyes soft. Abby’s smile returned, quiet and sure. I slipped into my room, closing the door with a quiet click.

Abby stood there for a few seconds longer than she meant to, hand curling and uncurling at her side. Then she turned and walked away.

Inside my room, I leaned against the back of the door and let out a slow breath. My heart was still thudding. Not hard, just steady, like it was trying to tell me something. I crossed the room to my bed and sat on the edge, absently untying my boots. The bracelet on my wrist— a rough one I’d braided weeks ago, caught the light. I tugged it off and held it loosely in my hands, thinking.

Outside, Abby’s boots echoed softly as she walked. She wasn’t headed straight to her room, not yet. She took a detour, climbing the narrow stairs that led to the rooftop, where the wind hit harder, cleaner. She braced her forearms on the railing and looked out over the dim lights below.

She thought about the way you had smiled tonight, less guarded, more present. She thought about the warmth of your laugh, the way their boots had bumped under the table and neither of them had pulled away. She thought about what you had asked — if she’d ever thought about them. Abby stared out into the dark, muttering to herself. “More than once.”

── .✦

The greenhouse was tucked away on the far end of the stadium, lit by golden strips of late afternoon sun through weathered glass. The scent of damp earth lingered, the soft buzz of insects in the corners barely noticeable over the creak of the old door as I stepped inside.

Abby was already there, crouched near a planter box, inspecting a cluster of overgrown tomatoes. She looked up when I entered, face unreadable at first, then softening in that way I had started to recognize as being just for me.

“You found it,” Abby said, straightening.

I smiled and closed the door behind me. “You’re not as hard to find as you think you are.”

Abby gave a small chuckle and leaned back against the wooden frame of the planter, arms folded. I came to stand beside her, letting the silence settle for a moment. Out here, away from everything, it was easier to breathe. “Didn’t know you liked plants,” I said.

“Yeah, my dad used to have a greenhouse,” Abby replied, glancing at me. “It’s quiet. No one comes out here much.”

I nodded. “Except when they want to disappear.” We stood there for a minute. Then another. And when Abby tilted her head to look at me, something shifted.

“About last night…” Abby started, voice a little rough around the edges.

I shook my head gently. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

“No, I…” Abby paused. “I liked it. More than I thought I would.”

My heart thudded, hard. I took a step closer, close enough that our arms brushed. “You mean the steak or the part where we almost had a date?”

Abby exhaled a laugh through her nose. “Both.”

We turned to face each other more fully now, my gaze lingering on Abby’s mouth, then flicking up to meet her eyes. “I think,” I said slowly, “we might be bad at pretending we’re just friends.”

Abby’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “I think you might be right.”

Neither of us moved, but the air between us felt electric. Then, carefully, almost like testing gravity, I reached out and laced my pinky through Abby’s. Not a full handhold. Just a small touch. Abby looked down at our joined fingers, then back at me, and gave a single, subtle nod.

“Okay,” Abby said, her voice softer than I had ever heard it.

“Okay,” I echoed, my thumb brushing lightly over the back of Abby’s hand.

── .✦

We left the greenhouse as the sun dipped behind the far edge of the stadium, casting long shadows and staining the clouds with streaks of orange and violet. The walk back wasn’t long, but we stretched it out without saying so. Steps slow, close, unhurried.

“You’re quiet,” I said eventually, my tone light, coaxing.

“I’m just… thinking,” Abby replied. “Trying not to mess this up.”

I looked over at her. “There’s nothing to mess up yet.”

Abby glanced back, the corner of her mouth twitching up. “Yet?”

I grinned. “I mean, unless you’re planning on vanishing into the barracks and avoiding me all week.”

“No,” Abby said quickly, too quickly. She scratched the back of her neck. “I’m not. I liked being with you today.”

My expression softened. “Me too.”

We reached the hallway that split off toward the living quarters, quiet except for the hum of generators and the occasional far off clang. Abby slowed near my door, lingering as if uncertain whether to say goodnight or something else.

I leaned against the wall beside it, looking up at her. “You’re really not gonna kiss me yet?”

Abby blinked, clearly caught off guard. “I… didn’t want to rush you.”

“That’s considerate,” I said, voice low and playful. “But next time, don’t overthink it so hard.”

Abby stepped a little closer, close enough that I could smell the faintest trace of pine soap and sweat on her collar. Her voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. “Next time?”

I reached out and brushed a speck of dirt off her sleeve. “Mhm. I’m not going anywhere.”

For a second, it looked like Abby might lean in. Her gaze lingered, jaw tightening just slightly. But instead, she gave a quiet breath of a laugh and pulled back, eyes warm. “Goodnight.”

I smiled, pushing the door open behind me. “Goodnight, Abby.”

The door clicked softly shut, and I stood still for a heartbeat. Then two. Then three.

The quiet hum of the hallway just outside my door buzzed in my ears, my pulse louder than it should’ve been. I stared at the handle, lips parted, heart thudding.

To hell with it.

I yanked the door back open and jogged barefoot into the corridor, scanning until I saw Abby’s back, just a few paces down, slow moving, like maybe she wasn’t quite ready to leave either.

“Abby,” I called softly.

She turned.

She didn’t have time to say anything before I was in front of her, reaching up, fingers curling into the collar of her jacket, eyes searching hers for half a second. Just enough time for hesitation to flicker. Then none at all. I leaned up and kissed her.

It wasn’t polished, but it was warm and certain. The kind of kiss that carried the quiet weight of something that had been building for a long time. Abby froze just for a second, startled, then softened beneath it. Her hands hovered at my waist, then settled there, careful, steady.

We didn’t pull apart quickly. It was slow, a soft press, a breath, then another. I stayed close enough that my forehead nearly rested against Abby’s. “I didn’t want to overthink it either,” I murmured.

Abby looked at me like the world had shifted a little. Like maybe everything would taste different tomorrow. “You didn’t,” she said quietly. “You got it just right.”

I smiled, slow and sheepish. “So… goodnight again?”

Abby nodded, brushing a loose curl from my cheek. “Yeah. Goodnight.”

This time, I didn’t turn away immediately. I lingered a second more, memorizing the feel of Abby’s hands still warm on my waist, before slipping back toward my door.

And this time, Abby didn’t take another step until she heard the door shut again.

i’m sorry but there’s one abby fanfic writer on here that’s so obviously using chatgpt to mass-produce fics and it’s actually infuriating as hell. she’s even been called out before which validated my suspicion. if someone’s dropping 5+ fics a week, you KNOW they’re cutting corners. writing takes time, editing takes time. there’s literally no way you can post so many fics back to back like that every single week i’m sorry. they’re all awfully formatted, with chatgpt copy and pasted spacing. they have zero personality and they’re the same ai generated language. i’m so sick of seeing this person get praised for work that isn’t even theirs, simply because she’s spamming the abby x reader tag with ai fics and overshadowing people who actually work hard and put love into what they write. ai has no place in fanfiction, write real stories. it’s so lazy and fake as fuck. and readers, please try to be more aware. if someone's putting out a perfectly polished character x reader fic every 48 hours, either they're lying about how fast they work or they're outsourcing an ai.

i will not be naming who because people have already flocked to her account to tell her about this post and defend her so whatever, at least i tried. sorry for wanting more for this fandom

hi 🩵 could you write how you hc abby's sexuality and why? what are the details in the game you noticed that support your hc? i love to think of abby as either pan or les, i feel like both could be her. but i feel very sad thinking she's straight :(. maybe someone like you explaining why they think abby is sapphic and using her personality to support your hc will help me out! kind regards :)

Don’t be sad about her potentially being straight!! She’s not explicitly stated as anything, so all headcanons are welcome and equally valid. My personal opinion is that Abby is pansexual or unlabeled, but regardless, queer. She strikes me as someone who doesn’t lead with labels or make her identity a point of definition—more of a “I love who I love” kind of person. She seems like someone who would fall for people who make her feel safe and seen. She lost her father young. She never had a maternal model. She grew up in a militant environment where vulnerability was dangerous. That means her emotional connection to others, especially romantic ones—is probably built slowly, from trust and shared experience, rather than immediate spark or gendered attraction. She’s not someone who’s chasing “the idea” of a partner, she’s someone who responds to the actual person in front of her. That also makes her more open to falling for people across gender lines, without needing to categorize it. That leads me to believe her sexuality isn’t rigid, and certainly not defined by gender.

She’s not shown being attracted to women, but the absence of that doesn’t mean anything. The game doesn’t give us any hints that she’s been romantically or sexually involved with a woman, but that’s probably because her story is hyper focused on revenge, grief, and survival. Romantic or sexual tension outside of Owen doesn’t really enter the picture, even in subtle ways. Her world is narrow and purpose driven. But she never really says anything heteronormative or dismissive about queer identity either. Through her emotional bonds we see that she connects deeply with people regardless of gender. She forms emotional trust slowly but completely. She’s drawn to connection and shared values. Her attraction and trust are built through shared experience. She doesn’t label herself, ever, and I think she wouldn’t feel the need to unless it became relevant. She has the emotional openness and grounded practicality of someone who loves people, not categories.

Her relationship with femininity, identity, and emotional expression is deeply shaped by both her trauma and her personality. Abby doesn’t perform femininity in a socially conventional way—not because she’s rejecting it, but because it was never central to her identity. Because she’s deeply disconnected from the “expected” version of traditional femininity; makeup, dresses, dainty behavior, emotional expressiveness on demand, she’s free from typical gendered expectations. Instead of trying to mold herself into it, she leans further into strength, practicality, and stoicism—which many queer women do when they grow up without a roadmap for softness that includes them. Since she didn’t have a mother to model that femininity, she was probably never taught or encouraged to engage with gender roles or a girlier side of herself. That left her with space to become someone shaped more by function, purpose, and self sufficiency than aesthetics or gendered performance. She made her own path, and it led her toward strength. That kind of emotional detachment from traditional markers of femininity often coincides with queerness—not because masc presenting women are automatically queer, but because a lack of socialized attachment to gender roles often opens the door for questioning everything those roles are connected to, including attraction and identity. Abby doesn’t feel like someone who needs to define herself by how she’s perceived. She just is.

The Owen relationship was real, but complicated. Abby and Owen were in love, and yes, there’s genuine chemistry and affection there. But there’s also a deep emotional misalignment, especially as time goes on. Owen becomes more idealistic, passive, and emotionally confused, while Abby doubles down on discipline, action, and keeping herself mentally resilient. Some people interpret the tension in their relationship as a sign Abby was never really attracted to him—just going through the motions out of obligation or comphet. But I disagree. I think she genuinely loved him, was physically attracted to him, and cared deeply. The boat scene (awkwardness aside) is reciprocated by her and it seemed like she wanted that connection in the moment. However, love ≠ compatibility. She loved Owen, but she outgrew him. I think that says more about Abby’s growth and trauma, not a reflection of her sexual orientation.

Could she be a lesbian experiencing comphet? Sure, it’s not impossible, I personally just didn’t read her that way, even as someone who has struggled with comphet themselves. Abby doesn’t show signs of resenting or disassociating from her relationship with Owen (in my opinion) just the circumstances surrounding their entanglement. She’s not passive in it, and she initiates physical and emotional intimacy. That doesn’t feel like compulsory heterosexuality, it feels like a real (but flawed) relationship that she outgrew, and possibly even a trauma bond. As badly as I want to see her with a woman, she could very well meet another man, fall for him and have a healthy relationship. That being said if they did make her a lesbian in part 3 (if we ever get it) I’d be ecstatic!

Abby is often misread—by both in world characters and players, as “too masculine,” “manly,” or even “unnatural.” That dissonance between how she looks and how the world interprets it could deeply resonate for a lot of queer people who don’t fit binary beauty standards. But Abby doesn’t apologize for her strength. She owns it. And that quiet defiance is queer as hell. She clearly knows that others see her body and think she looks “too masculine” or “unattractive,” but she never apologizes for it. She chooses function over appearance, strength over daintiness—not to perform, but because that’s who she is. She has self assurance in spite of being misunderstood by others and refuses to shrink herself to meet their standards.

Abby’s strength isn’t just for survival—it’s a core part of her self concept. Fitness isn’t just part of her job. It’s how she processes life. She builds her body with intention, as a form of control, agency, and emotional regulation. That kind of deliberate relationship with one’s body might mirror experiences, particularly for masc-leaning queer women or nonbinary people—who use physicality as both a shield and a sense of self in a world that doesn’t always see them clearly. Her muscles aren’t accidental. They’re a statement. They’re her armor, but also her identity. I do think Abby’s relationship with fitness, strength, and her body can be viewed as queer, even if it’s not exclusively so. In the context of the WLF, being strong is practical. It’s survival. It makes sense that she would train hard regardless of her identity, especially given her role. It’s not explicitly gay that she’s jacked and likes working out. But what those choices mean emotionally, and how they contrast with heteronormative expectations is. The way she uses her body as a vessel of identity, control, and love? That can absolutely be read through a queer lens—and meaningfully so.

How Abby interacts with Lev is so important. The way she immediately accepts Lev—no hesitation, no confusion, no need to ask questions, is incredibly telling. That kind of instinctive affirmation doesn’t just scream ally, it suggests lived empathy. She leads with respect, action, and emotional intelligence, especially when someone is vulnerable. And in Lev’s case, she never misgenders him, she defends him immediately, even against her own people. She doesn’t act like he’s “different.” She just includes him. This doesn’t automatically mean Abby is queer herself, of course—but when you combine this with everything else, it does start to look like someone who may have a personal understanding of what it means to feel different, unlabeled, or quietly shunned—and who maybe recognizes something familiar in Lev’s journey, even if they never talk about it directly. It feels like a silent kind of solidarity, even without any explicit confirmation.

This is subjective, but even her energy itself doesn’t seem completely straight. She feels queer coded in the way she carries herself. Not just because she’s muscular or rejects feminine norms (that alone isn’t a marker of queerness), but because she moves through the world in a way that doesn’t seem gendered. She’s not very verbally expressive, but she uses physicality as a language—training, protecting others, touching carefully, fighting hard. That embodiment of love, grief and control through action is a deeply somatic and queer way to navigate the world, especially when words don’t feel safe or available. Abby feels deeply, but she doesn’t always name or process her feelings in real time. That could mean her understanding of her own sexuality might not even be clearly labeled, even to herself. She might not ever stop and ask herself because her emotional compass doesn’t run on theoretical self definition. It runs on who makes her feel safe, connected, alive. It’s fluid.

All of this builds a strong case for Abby being queer in essence and practice, even if she’s never labeled that way in canon. So while it’s totally valid for someone to read her as straight, gay, bi, pan, or questioning, my take is that she’s pan or unlabeled queer, with a deep capacity for connection that transcends gender. It just hasn’t been fully explored yet because her story arc was focused on trauma, redemption, and survival—not identity.

i hope that answers your question, sorry it took me a minute to get back to you. if you read this far thanks for stopping by! 🤍

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! 🥲

when doves cry, do you hear them love?

summary. first fragment of your youth. cw. fluff? no, we only know angst over here, blood, guns, character death. you're thirteen here. wc. 1,992 cr. color code from elliesproperty on tumblr. notes. Sorry this took so long, my pc is still tweaking and crashing so often i got so pissed, i started tearing up bro. Anyway, at first this chapter was gonna have three flashbacks in this, which all three were going to be long asl I can just tell, but I thought separating them would be best, didn't wanna make you guys wait too long for this lol. I had a lot of fun writing about the reader in this chapter. I’m just going with the flow with this series tbh, I'm very new to this, this being my first ever series lol we’ll see how it goes. Ty to my sweet anons for the motivation, and I hope future chapters live up to your guys' expectations!! 01 / 02 / AO3

YEAR 2033. Dust built up through the passage of time had caked in the crevices of the wall's base moldings. Lavender-colored wallpaper torn, tattered, and riddled with bullets. Turning your gaze forward, four mangled infected corpses, toppled over each other, lay at the end of the hallway, filling the stale air of the abandoned apartment building with its offensive foul odor. Nature slithered and had made its way through the massive crater in the ceiling above the bodies, swallowing up most of the walls. The floorboard creaked and whined underneath their body weight, shoes leaving water trails in their stead. Overlapped sounds of wet, urgent footsteps, deep guttural groans, and the fast beating of your heart drumming against your eardrums only contributed to increasing your adrenaline. “Hold him–hold him for me.” An exhausted voice shifts your focus to your older sister, who's aiding in holding up the muscular man. Sticky sweat trickles down your throat and forehead, and thickened dirt is underneath your nails.

You nod your head, his weight pressing a bit harder down onto your smaller body, when she slowly removes herself from him. You pointed out your strength in keeping him upright when she moved away. Her head tilts slightly to be at your level briefly, and her eyebags are more prominent. “I have to see if this room is safe for us.” She muttered. Turning her back to face you, she unsheathes her pistol from the leather holster strapped to her thigh, holding it firmly in her dominant hand. She steps up to the door and opens it enough for it to be ajar. Her aim, guided by the wooden door, eyes examining every inch revealed to her the more she opened the door past the threshold.

She quickly glances back at you and your uncle, giving herself only a second before she finally pushes the door wide, her shoes falling and shifting with purpose around the apartment's brown wooden floor. The small kitchen on the right had a few cabinets and drawers open, seemingly void of any valuables. The living room beside it had a dark grey knit blanket settled below the wooden coffee table, peeking out from underneath, and the wooden bookcase on the left side of the door had books of different genres and interesting topics. You watched as she faded further into the apartment, your eyebrows knit together, vaguely tilting your head on the left occasionally to take in the environment being thoroughly investigated by your sister. 

A choked curse rumbling close to your right ear and the firm hold on your left shoulder tightening made you blink to look up at your uncle, his body in a state worse than yours. A puddle of blood that’d spread was soaked up by the gauze wrapped around his lower left abdomen, and shared sweat invaded your nostrils. “Uncle..” You whisper to him, anxiety etched into every fiber of your being. Witnessing your only father figure suffering tore your heart apart. “‘S alright, sweetheart.” His voice and demeanor, which you’ve known to be assertive and fearless, dimmed dramatically to being strained and fatigued. The hold you had on his waist grew tighter after he said that, left hand rising to tenderly plant itself on top of his rough hand that grasped your shoulder.

Shoes stepping on wooden flooring rose in volume, and the pleasing sight of your sister reappearing at the front door. “Everything’s good. Come on, I got you.” Softly-spoken, but the underlying stress upon her profoundly resonated between the three of you like an echo chamber as you all stumbled and groaned, leading him to the end of the hallway in the apartment, past the small kitchen and living room, into the disorganized bedroom. Its wide window displayed the afternoon view of the ransacked, vacant city riddled with rustic vehicles and grass overtaking the streets that were once a quarantine zone orchestrated by the military. It was sealed shut, and droplets of rain collided against the glass.

You both carefully lay your uncle down onto the messy mattress, your sister tilting her upper body a little, slim hands roughened from the difficult trials of the life they live now move to softly wipe the sweat trickling down his cheek, alongside the stray strand of hair out of its regular place. “I’m sorry, Uncle– I..” She lowers her head, staring at her shoes before sealing her eyes shut, and the bottom of her lip quivers. There was desperation in staggering her emotions at this detrimental time, fighting to stay strong for both of you. 

Your stare faltered as you watched your sister struggle, vision blurring as the hot sensation of tears ran down your cheeks. “This was never your fault..” She didn’t say anything, only nodding her head in response before reluctantly stepping away, her gaze skipping from him to stare off at the window. “I need to get going.” She walks out of the bedroom with haste, leaving the door wide open. Fear sharp as the tip of a needle courses through you. “Going where?” You blurted out, your body moving without question to follow her out of the bedroom door to stop her in the living room. “That Pharmacy we came across,” She sniffles harshly, shaking her head. “I need to see if there could be anything there that can help Uncle.”

Your mouth opened and closed, unfiltered doubt had overtaken your expression.

She falters. “I don’t know if I have the strength to do what I think I need to do.” She hiccups, moving in to wrap you into a firm hug, a strong wave of sweat invades their senses. “Leaving him here feels wrong– leaving you alone too– I don’t know anymore, I..” Words come tumbling out of her mouth, you return the hug tenfold, desperate to give her reassurance that she can rely on you too, she doesn’t need to hold all of the extreme weight of responsibility on her shoulders on her lonesome. After a moment, you pull away a little. “...I can do it. I’ll wait for you.” Staring up to meet her eyes.

A beat. 

“...Okay. I’ll be back as soon as I can, maybe I'll find some food as well, alright?” She pulls you back into that tight hug, chin resting on the top of your head. After seconds of silence, she steps away to walk out the front door, and the click and slam of the door shutting echoes in your skull. You went to reassure your uncle about where your older sister went, even when he vaguely nodded, you could tell he also disagreed and was just as worried. After all that, you searched the kitchen, finding only a box of crackers in the bottom cabinet. That had pretty much nothing inside except for seven crackers wrapped in white plastic, hunger coursed through you as soon as your eyes even landed on it, snatching it before walking over to the bookcase next to the front door. Thick dust covered the shelves and books. Genres: Horror, Comedy, Romance, Animals… Animals? Hell yeah!

The corners of your lips quirked as you picked out the book from the bookshelf, particles bursting in front of your face when the books next to it slid down a little, quickly stepping away with a grimace on your face, you moved to plop down onto the couch. With your left hand, you open the book. On the first page, imagery of horses of different breeds intrigued you, and black text described their origins. Moving past that, the next page was of owls. Chowing down on the stale crackers you put on top of your thighs, leaving five crackers left on purpose. Minutes passing you by. Sleep came slamming down on you, like taking a dose of Xylazine, strong, undefeatable to even a horse. You didn’t mean to fall asleep, but your body needed and begged for rest.

Shuffling and loud, abrupt cluttering snapped your slumber.

Your slouched position quickly shot up, neck cranking to look behind you, staring at the hallway with wide eyes. The sounds in the bedroom paused, its door still wide open. Your hands moved silently to remove the book and crackers off of your thighs and onto the wooden coffee table, standing up to your full height, your mouth was left ajar, eyeing the shadow moving on the floor at the end of the hallway, tension in your bones rising when your fingertips inch to your pistol in your back pocket. Praying.

You whisper, hoping that you can prove yourself wrong, so that it'll dispel the dread that's gradually emerging. “Uncle?” Irregular thudding arose once again, a boot unsteadily stepping onto the shadow, moaning in pain, gasping noises were the first sounds you heard from him. “No, no, no, no.” Shaking your head, you can feel your body reacting– that overwhelming emotion of sorrow that your sister briefly described, that’d make your bottom lip quiver and vision blur, opposed to your wishes. 

Blinking them away, upholding the pistol the way he taught you, the sight of what was once your Uncle was replaced with a man who lost his humanity—a shell of his former self. His body movement was lethargic and so erratic that it made you shudder.

And when his glazed-over irises landed on you, he lurched into a feral run, startling you into action. “No, please!” Boots stomping on wooden flooring was blaringly loud to your eardrums, your poor heart racing miles per hour. 

BANG.

Stomach.

He’s still coming.

BANG.

Chest.

He’s trying to crawl over the couch.

BANG!

Head.

His body toppled over when the bullet penetrated his skull, body falling forward– you couldn’t move fast enough, his corpse landing on you, gravity and his heavyweight were too much, your back slammed down onto the wooden coffee table with immense force, breaking it in half, crushing the crackers, and the thick book you were reading dug into your upper back, but none of it compared to your mental distress. His blood leaked from the bullet hole in his forehead, dripping down onto your face. Your hands frantically pushing his shoulders upwards, but pitifully failing in getting him off of you. Breathing came in quick bursts, coughing, and sobs were all that accompanied you in the apartment’s silence; you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, acid welling up in your throat. You feel disgusting.

Dragging yourself from underneath his body as an alternative, wood chips pressed into the palms of your hands, moving to sit up while doing so, sliding back until your back hit the TV stand. You brought your knees up to your chest. “I’m sorry, Uncle! I’m sorry!” Squeals and sobs shredded your vocal cords, the back of your hands carelessly rubbed at your eyes over and over again, the waterfalls of tears were endless, chest hiccuping, ears ringing, ribcage closing in on your heart like a vignette effect, and the deep ache spread across your upper back.

The more you cried to yourself, the more you began to feel isolated. Not knowing if your sister is still alive, or if she went and abandoned you instead. Just the thought of being deserted by her made you bawl your eyes out harder, sclera’s red, snot bubbling and trickling onto your lips only to be wiped away. 

Click.

Crawling forward with haste, teeth gritting, fingertips grazing the pistol’s grip–

A light gasp stopped you.

A second after you looked up, catching a glimpse of her, she was already on you, kneeling to your level, left hand wrapping around your upper back, right hand cradling your head. 

“Oh, Y/n..” Whispered, tearful apologies spilled from her lips, gently swaying both of you left to right. You hold her tight, you can’t envision yourself being detached from her hip now. After you both somewhat regained your composure, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, facing what you had done. 

What you were forced to do.

full throttle.

summary. the poor reader is the only one left remaining in her pathetic, ragtag group. cw. solotraveler, tad bit bloodthirsty!ellie x fem!reader, wlw, not really story canon, death, detailed murder/murder spree, blood, wounds, organs, and reunion. wc. 2,020 cr. images from pinterest. notes. sorry for the like… two month's absence lmao. tlou gameplay is rather cool so I wanted to write something about it. The apartments are different. ruhroh. anyway, i had fun writing this. her dead eyes look has me in a lil chokehold. disc. hey now instrumental earbuds recommended 01 / 02 / AO3

She killed them all, one by one.

People that you were associated with, even if you weren't as torn from their eventual demise, it was how quickly it all went to shit, that startled you. This one specific person of thin stature capable of brutally ending the lives of others in such a short amount of time left you baffled and it undeniably gripped your heart with fear of being her next victim. Her approach was aggressive and oppressive, it was as if you were on her playground, one of many to be unfortunate enough to be the next group to step their toes into her territory.

Each breath you withdrew wavered, and your thoughts were nerve-wracking, it spun at a fast pace equivalent to a revolver's cylinder rotating with no signs of stopping. Dread was a sentiment that has long ago been somewhat dulled through years of experience against the infected, adrenaline and stress were the most prevalent variables.

But this woman– this woman forcibly tugged it back to the surface without even being aware of your existence. 

The small group you were in was struggling to come together, the man who took the reins, even though it was unspoken, did it out of necessity, he did his best to keep the group positive rather than at odds with each other. But considering the eight people in your group and how they are, that man was surely left to rot in the slightest inconvenience when he went out to search for supplies with four other people. No matter how much you asked about what happened, their vague explanation departed an unsettling weight on your chest. 

Internally, you knew that something ill-fated happened that wasn't by the wretched, blood-drenched mouths of the infected– or maybe it was, just that they put him in a horrible position for it to happen. But you'll never know the exact details now, because they're all dead. 

They intended to move where the group lives today, and along the way, in Downtown Seattle, a small coin on the road dimly shined like any other, an opportunity to coerce this young woman to surrender her weapons and backpack to us.

And with nature inherently flourishing across Downtown Seattle over time, this Capitol Hill gas station in particular was no exception to it either. The inside of the gas station had bloodstained, dirty, shattered tiles with the owners of said blood missing their lower half, their organs splayed out onto the flooring, and one other unfortunate soul had their throat brutally slit and chest shanked. 

Some died the regular way, a bullet through their head or throat when they least anticipated it. She hastily retreats to cover every time she'd successfully end someone, it only took a few seconds again for someone to run into her trap once more, that or they were foolishly out in the open, gunned down by her Bolt-Action Rifle or her silencer.

You felt an overwhelming sense of cowardice and uselessness when you hid away after witnessing six out of the eight other people present get slaughtered, exploded, and stabbed with no remorse. You regret deciding to stay with this group, you should have taken off after the leader died weeks ago.

You dreaded to see even an inch of that auburn hair or any sighting of the hand-crafted trap mine premeditatedly planted on the ground. 

You stayed low to the ground, your sweaty palms grasped the grip of the pistol intensely, your shoulders ached, and the two other people remaining in your group were communicating with one another, in search of that one person. You were hidden behind a car on the other side of the street in front of the gas station, peeking your head up to watch the others try and kill her. You felt pity for her when it seemed like it was in your group's favor at the beginning, deciding not to look at the woman to instead look into the cars for anything to pass the time,  you didn't want to do that to her but.. It's never quite fair in the apocalypse.

In your peripheral vision, you see a figure rise from the roof of the building, throwing something down at the last remaining people's feet, detonating immediately on impact. A blinding flash and a loud bang rang through your ears despite not being too close to it. Gargled screams stole your attention, during the few seconds of smoke in the air, you can see that same figure riding the man’s back, impaling their chest and then into the side of their neck, the body falls to the ground with a harsh thud.

The last man standing eventually gained his senses after being disoriented for a brief moment, with no hesitation he turned around and tackled her from behind, the switchblade she had in her left hand rammed into his thigh, the scene was harrowing to watch, his cries of anguish and guttural groans rose in volume when she twisted it before pulling it back out only to repeat the actions. He released her after she jabbed him a third time, before he could move his foot towards her again, she shot him in the forehead, the bullet silenced by the empty plastic water bottle on the muzzle of the pistol.

That brought you out of your blanked-out mind, why were you just watching, frozen in your place? 

Grass lightly crunched beneath your feet as you measured every step you made, silently attempting to retreat from your hiding spot as soon as possible while she was preoccupied looting their corpses. 

Your head was on a swivel, consistently turning to the left to see if she was still searching the bodies up until you made a right turn, going from crouching to standing,  making every reluctant step you make forward have you sweating, the soles of the weight of your shoes on the green grass felt like that was enough to give away your position. You stuck close to the walls of the building. After a small, handful of minutes passed, vacant apartments were what your eyes landed on, your steps grew rushed as the desire to just disappear far away from that woman increased. The pressure you felt started to wane, silence engulfing the atmosphere. Your speed-walking pace went to a jog, heading towards the entrance of the building. 

The edges of your lips twitched as you reached the doors, twisting and pushing the door knobs, opening them up until it was ajar was when the loud pop of a bullet penetrating the wood above you, leaving it splintered and small pieces of it dropped onto your head, your nervous system was shook, fright rushed through your bloodstream, your body moving faster than your thoughts, another shot rang through the area, right where your head was if your movements were delayed by a thread. You slammed the doors shut, shoving your pistol into its holster, your feet shuffled hurriedly to push whatever was nearby onto the entrance. The door knobs jiggled and the doors thudded with what you assumed was the woman striving to barge in.

“I Know you’re in there!” Even through the wood, her winded words were wrapped in a belligerent tone of voice. 

Booking it, you run past the front desk, the walls are caked in dust, and the air smells stale. The sound of hard thuds was washed out by your heartbeat pulsing in your ears, and when you opened the break room, shutting the door behind you, looking for anything that could help you get away. But time was of the essence because footsteps that moved at a slow stride reached your ears through the wooden door.

How the hell did she get in already?

There was nothing of utmost relevance that would aid you in your predicament, and the clock ticked at an unnecessary rate. 

The footsteps outside the break room stopped, your head snapping to glance at the knob that was silently turning, the click of the door unlocking was quiet– that was when you acted without thinking, survival instincts gripped your body, and you swallowed your fear.

As the door was pulled back enough to be ajar, you sprinted and slammed yourself onto the door, knocking the woman on the other side back, her back hitting the wall‐ but you were onto her, trying not to give her a second to regain her composure considering how fast she is in doing so.

Her switchblade was the first thing that met you when you attacked her, her swing was fast enough to slice your cheek. 

“Ugh!” Your head flinched, and the moment of weakness let her fist collide with your stomach, resulting in you being stunned enough to drop to your knees, when you saw the tip of the switchblade shine in your peripheral, aiming for your jugular, the hairs on your neck stood, your hands jutting out to grab her arm, trying to dislodge the switchblade from her crimson-soaked hands, the same hand that punched your stomach grabbed the back of your head by your hair, pulling your head back.

“Stop!” You plead, eyes wide. “You made me–” The only thing you heard from the other young woman was heavy breathing that bordered on growls with how hard she was inhaling and exhaling. And in the midst of your scuffle, pale green eyes met your own.

Her pupils dilate when they find your eyes, they flicker up and down your face, intaking every detail, the constraint she enforced upon you, although indistinctly, was eased. You can tell by her demeanor that if you try doing anything, the perplexity between you will dissipate, and her pitiless efforts of killing you will continue until you are deceased.

Harsh breathing was the only sound that played like a broken record.

Scarlet fluid in a splattered manner appeared to be across the entirety of her face and upper half, built-up dirt underneath her short nails and a pitch black shirt with white text partially veiled by grime and blood, a testament to the carnage she was capable and fully willing to participate in furthermore.

She muttered something incomprehensible under her breath, the agitation in her face faltered as the period of time-stretched. For you, your eyes remained wide, a tiny spark of possibilities imbued you. At first, her words were a tentative whisper, unsure if her thoughts were in fact correct.

“Y/N..?” 

“Yes, yes, Ellie..” You swallow, your throat gently bobbing, the stinging pain on your cheek making the situation feel more substantial. Your answer was what made her hold on to your hair to finally be freed, her hands falling to her sides. Her hunched posture over you slowly withdrew to her fully standing. The atmosphere between you two shifted as relief washed the both of you down akin to a tidal wave whilst you moved to stand up, her green eyes watching over the twitch and pinch of your facial expressions. 

“How… I.. I didn't know that it was you.” She shook her head vaguely, regret overtaking her as she stared at the blood trickling down your cheek, down to the smooth line of your jawline.

Your back met the wall, and your stomach and cheek ached, but your focus was directed to Ellie. Your feelings about seeing her again after so long were a tad bit muddled. She changed, of course—who wouldn't in the apocalypse? But the massacre you witnessed and now realizing that the person behind it was someone you knew left you astonished. Your curiosity about what happened while the two of you were separated certainly picked at you.

Shaking your head, “It's fine, Ellie.” You said, your chest rising and falling in harmony with hers, the corners of your lips jerked upwards a little out of relief that you seemingly get to live to see another day, that and reuniting with someone you loved.

“You did what you had to do.” 

Ellie licked her lips before she tried to act out her thoughts, but when her hand reached out to touch yours she stopped herself.

this ending was bleh, sorry my ladies.. i got bored near the end D: