#seraphite!reader

[heartpascal]

Howdy I love you and your writing, I was wondering if you'd ever write tommy x platonic reader

be your armour

▹— tommy miller x platonic!seraphite!reader

▹— summary: you escape the seraphites, and find that the world is not what they described

▹— a/n: howdy yourself lovely anon! i love you! (see the extra a/n at the end!)

▹— warnings: reader was in a cult, religious themes, religious trauma, slight tlou pt 2 spoilers (though it’s set before!), canon-typical violence, death, murder, mention of reader being malnourished (but no mention of weight/size), minor character death, transporting a dead body, tommy’s PTSD and general mental health struggles, abrupt ending

▹— taglist: @rhymingtree @sleepygraves @wnstice (everything!) @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @lemonlaides @fariylixie0915  @faceache111 @randomhoex @canpillowscry @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @coolchick333 @soobsdior @rvjaa  @sunflowersdrop @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @miss-celestial-being

masterlist

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Tommy knows Maria has a good reason for disliking sending him on patrols. He realises it every single time he agrees to go on one.

As his wife, she’s seen every ugly and terrible side to him. Being in the apocalypse means that his best side isn’t really his best. But even so, Maria has loved him and looked out for him in far more ways than he usually knows. Like when she assigns him to construction and overseeing repairs, she’s sparing him of this.

Even now, nearing three decades since his time in the military, he experiences the effects. Except now, there are far more stakes. Now, when he loses sight of where he is, when the sounds become too loud and he’s back there, people’s lives are at stake. And so is his own.

Usually, being the soldier that he is, Tommy can keep himself together in terse situations. When chaos unfolds, Tommy is there, unmoving. But today, he was caught by surprise, much like his now most likely deceased companion, Julian.

The reason he had accepted this patrol with little complaint from Maria was because it was supposed to be quiet. It was well known for being free of raiders, with only a few Infected roaming around. So both he and Julian hadn’t expected to be shot at, to be surrounded by people with guns who were shouting conflicting orders to each other.

In all the sudden chaos, Tommy had momentarily been thrust back into 20-something years ago, when he had watched a fellow soldier die needlessly at his side, whilst he survived. It was like he could reach out, and the soldier would be at his fingertips, as if he could trace the surname Keller which was stained with blood at the man’s chest.

But when Tommy blinked, Julian’s motionless body was at his side, the man’s eyes unblinking and unseeing. There was blood on his chest, too, Tommy noticed distantly, despite the way he was squinting to see through the suddenly too bright sun. When the ringing in his ears faded, he was left with an aching jaw and a lightheaded feeling that made his chest hurt.

“Where’s the Scar? Hey! You listen to me, old man, where is the Scar?” One of the raiders yelled, her voice carrying over the faint ringing that still lingered in Tommy’s ears. He heard the sound of the safety on a gun being clicked off, and squinted past the sun in his eyes to see a woman glaring at him with bared teeth.

“The fuck scar ‘re you talking ‘bout?” Tommy asked, his words fumbling together the slightest bit as he spoke, his voice grating on his too-dry throat. He swallowed thickly, trying to piece his mind back together, trying to get his head back into gear, knowing he had to survive this. Maria would kill him, otherwise.

As he was counting the people in his sights, one of the men with a shotgun pointed towards him spoke up. “He’s lying! Where the hell is that damn Scar?” He spat, apparently disbelieving of him.

“What damn Scar?” Tommy yelled back, exasperated and frustrated, not to mention completely exhausted from whatever the hell was going on here.

“The kid, about yay-high,” The woman said, voice carrying over the sounds of the others grumbling, “Big ugly scars across their cheeks. That damn Scar.” She dragged a finger from the corner of her mouth up towards her eye, demonstrating the scar, before readjusting the grip on her gun to be more threatening.

One of the others took a step towards her, looking apprehensive as she took in the situation. “Kendra, I really don’t think he knows. Maybe we should get out of here.” The voice of reason said, her gun hanging limply at her side, whilst her hands were held out, gesturing towards where Tommy lay, still coming back to his senses.

Kendra shook her head, narrowing her brown eyes at him, and held a pale palm up to the woman who had approached, silencing her. “He knows something. We know the Scar headed out this way. I’m not giving up when we’ve come this far, Janet.”

Janet sighed, turning her head to look at Tommy almost with something close to pity.

But he was already forcing his head back into the soldier mindset, pushing down all of his lingering panic and the way he didn’t quite feel real in that moment. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to do so, but it was the first time in a while. When was the last time? Two years ago? Three? Trust these people to prove Maria’s worries correct.

He was formulating a plan of action when it happened, when their attention was drawn away by the sound of something soaring through the air, cutting through any conversation. They all twisted around to face the direction the arrow came from when it landed in the trunk of a tree above Tommy’s head, and they paid him no mind.

“Come on out, Scar! Show yourself!” Kendra yelled, before firing aimlessly into the forest surrounding them. A whistle came from within, letting her know that she’d missed her target. She turned to the group around her, and nodded her head at two groups of two, pointing them in opposite directions. Obviously, she was sending them to flank whoever this Scar was.

It was clear to Tommy that this was his chance to get out of the situation without having to take down all of these people alone, but in the few moments it had taken him to grasp the gun hidden in Julian’s boot, they had caught the Scar.

He was ready to leave. Tommy was already at his feet, backing away towards the path to Jackson, but he was stopped when the two who had gone to the left emerged from the trees with you kicking and yelling at them. You, the Scar they had been talking about, were a kid. Hell, you couldn’t have been much older than Ellie was when she’d arrived at Jackson. Surely you couldn’t have been the one they were after? The one they had just killed Julian for?

“Damn Scar doesn’t even know how to use the thing.” One of the men spat out, throwing what must have been your bow to the ground in front of you. You simply bared your teeth at him, making the scars along both of your cheeks crease. Tommy wasn’t oblivious to how painful and tender they looked, as if they weren’t very old.

“But you knew how to use it when you killed my husband, didn’t you?” Kendra sneered, leering over you and pointing her gun towards your head. She pressed it to your forehead, not pulling the trigger even when you paused in your struggling. When she moved away slightly, a glare on her face, there was a dent the shape of her gun left in your skin. “We got what we came here for. Let’s go. Bring it with us.”

Janet’s eyebrows furrowed. “What? To do what?”

“To get justice for Daniel. Did you forget?” Kendra asked, her voice a leering drawl as she took a step towards Janet whilst you resumed your struggling, trying to get towards where they had dumped your arrows alongside your bow.

”I didn’t agree to—to torturing some kid, Kendra. We didn’t even see what happened.” Janet stammered, her eyes wide at what the leader of the group was seemingly suggesting.

“The kid is a Scar, Janet. That’s enough for me.” One of the men responded, glaring at you with a ferocity Tommy didn’t know someone could have towards a child. Even if you had done what they’d suggested, there was probably a damned good reason, in Tommy’s eyes.

You glared straight back at him, eyes narrowed. “May she guide you home,” You said, seemingly kind enough, though it seemed pretty… cultish, to Tommy.

He’d heard of cults even before the Outbreak. Heard of religious fanatics who indoctrinated people and held them in a sheltered world, hidden away from real life. But it seemed to have gotten more extreme since the Apocalypse occurred, with new religions popping up all over the place. FEDRA crushed most of them, but it wasn’t unheard of for them to survive, to spread, much like the Infection itself.

Clearly, at your age, you’d had to have either been born into whatever crazy world you’d come from, or brought into it. You certainly weren’t old enough to be facing a group of seven people, all on your own. Even if one of them didn’t seem inclined to make you suffer, it was clear that Janet was okay with killing you.

“You little—” The man stepped forward, going towards you, as if you had said something truly offensive. You openly glared at him, refusing to cower away, but he was interrupted by Kendra.

“That’s enough, Clive. Let’s take this little apostate back to the other Scars, make an example of them.” She said, turning to face you from where she had been looking at the man. At her words, you seemed to clam up, your skin starting to take on a sheen of sweat, your eyes visibly widening. The stretch of the scars along your cheeks gave away the way in which you ground your teeth together. “Ah, there it is. Your little cult kicked you out, huh?” She smiled at your responding gulp.

Before Tommy could think any better of it, he was throwing himself into the haphazard plan he’d cooked up in his head. It wasn’t much. Hell, it wasn’t really anything, but he couldn’t leave you. You would be safe in Jackson, just as he would. He might have lost Keller, but he wouldn’t lose you. You didn’t have to die.

The only warning the group got was the click of the safety turning off, before Tommy was opening fire into their midst.

It was almost like a trance. Like he was on autopilot. He knew what he was doing, but he didn’t really feeling like it was actually him doing it. Tommy could feel the tension of him pressing on the trigger, but it was like he was watching on from the outside.

This wasn’t the first time he had experienced such a thing. He’s pretty sure it’s what made him so effective, each time he was put into life threatening situations. It was as if he could simply remove himself and watch on, as if he was a spectator. It meant that he didn’t think twice before putting a bullet between Kendra and Clive’s eyes, or sending any of the rest of their group to an early death.

By the time he came back to himself, he was standing on the trail, surrounded by bodies. Janet’s eyes stared up at him, a trail of blood gushing from the wound on her throat. Perhaps, if he had been fully conscious at the time, he would’ve felt guilty. But Tommy was never quite himself until he could get out of the situation that made him this way.

You stared at him, wide-eyed, your skin splattered with the blood of the man who had been shot dead behind you. As soon as Tommy opened his mouth, however, you rushed for your bow and the cluster of arrows, clumsily grabbing them and raising the bow towards him with shaking fingers.

“Woah, it’s okay.” Tommy said, his voice sounding wrong to his own ears, before he was dropping the gun and holding his hands up in surrender. Not that it meant much, considering it was out of ammunition. And considering how easily you had been caught, he’s not sure how well you can use that bow in close contact.

“Stay away from me.” You responded, though your voice trembled as it left your throat. You pulled the bowstring further, as if to compensate.

Now that Tommy was looking at you, rather than those surrounding you, he was noticing things he hadn’t seen before. You looked exhausted. There were bags underneath your eyes, and your skin looked dewy, unhealthy. From the looks of it, and the sound of your growling stomach, you were malnourished.

“Alright, now let’s just calm down here.” Tommy spoke, keeping his hands raised and unmoving. Your expression didn’t change, and he could see your fingers loosening on the arrow you had notched. “I’m guessin’ your name ain’t Scar.” You shook your head, your jaw clenching. “My name’s Tommy. I—I live in a little town ‘bout forty minutes east.”

“Okay,” You said, face stony. “So go back there.”

Tommy sighed, weighing up his options. On one hand, it seemed like you were giving him a free pass, and he needed to get back to Maria, needed to get Julian home. On the other hand, Tommy’s not sure he could just leave you out here, all alone, especially when you appear to have a target on your back. “Are there more of them? Coming after you?” He asked, instead of outwardly suggesting you go back to Jackson with him.

You shrugged, though the darting of your eyes towards the bodies sprawled around you suggested that there probably was. Tommy was choosing to believe that whatever happened wasn’t your fault. Especially considering these people were willing to torture you, so they surely couldn’t have been good guys.

He could see your grip on your bow slackening, like your arm was growing tired.

“I can get you supplies, if you’d like.”

“Just like that? I can’t give you anything.” You responded, eyebrows furrowing and giving you a confused expression. He supposed it made sense, not many people were charitable in the apocalypse.

“Just like that,” Tommy confirmed, trying to look as earnest as possible. Part of him wants you to accept, to agree to come to where he knows it’s safe, but the other part of him is hoping to hell that you have more survival instincts than that. “You saved my life, ‘s the least I could do.”

“But you—you already did that, for me. You killed the wolves.” You said with increasing confusion. You didn’t understand how this man worked. Back at the Island, only the Elders got to allocate supplies, and he certainly didn’t look like an Elder.

Despite his curiosity, Tommy elected not to ask about the so-called wolves. “Listen, kid—”

“I’m not a kid.”

“Right, ‘course not. My apologies. I—I could use a hand in getting my friend here back to his family,” Tommy said, stumbling over his words the slightest bit. It was the first time he’d really realised that Julian was dead, that he would have to go to his family and explain he wasn’t coming home. If it weren’t for his concern for you, that might have just sent Tommy into another reality once more. “If you wouldn’t mind helpin’ me out, I could fetch you some supplies.”

You still looked unsure, but you lowered your bow the slightest amount, squinting at Tommy as if he was going to change his mind or alter the deal, somehow. Finally, you removed the arrow from the bow, slipping it into the quiver that was on the ground, before you tied it around your waist. “Okay. It seems fair.” You decided, mostly because you were desperate to get more supplies, and you had no idea where the wolves’ camp would be, or if there would be more of them waiting for you.

When you made your hasty exit from your fellow Seraphites, you hadn’t accounted for all the people you would anger along the way. Kendra’s husband was killed by accident, though you could see why they would suspect you. It was another Seraphite — Mary, you believe — who had shot at you, only to miss and send an arrow through the man’s throat. When they discovered him, your face had been covered in his blood, and your bow had been clutched in your hand. Unfortunately, the WLF were renowned for not listening to reason. After all, they had been the ones to kill the Prophet, despite no wrongdoing on her part.

It made sense that they’d do the same to you.

However, you hadn’t been expecting them to follow you so far. In fact, you had no idea where you were going to run in order to get away from your people, until the wolves started chasing you and you ran in the opposite direction. Since then, it had been a battle of staying one step ahead of them.

Your upbringing meant that you didn’t need to rely on things from the Old World, like they did, which meant you could traverse the terrain without having to stop at stores and towns for supplies. You’d been surviving on what you could forage from the land, which was a much harder task when it was overrun with demons and had no farms to harvest from.

Through the whole situation, you could only be glad that it was the wolves chasing after you, and not your people. Sure, it would have been nice for your family to want you to stay, but the likelihood would have been that another Seraphite would’ve caught you much sooner. And they would drag you back to the Island to make an example out of you, too, you were sure. A statement to convey what happens to apostates.

“You headed anywhere specific?” Tommy asked casually, as you grasped a hold of Julian’s limp arm and hefted him upwards with a surprising amount of strength. He did the same on Julian’s other side, and the two of you set off.

“No.” You answered, not sparing him a glance.

Tommy clicked his tongue, and let the silence linger for a little while longer. Soon enough, after almost ten minutes of dragging Julian’s body through the woods, the two of you arrived at a nearby town. “You know how to ride a horse?” He questioned, coming to a stop outside of a building with an open garage door, displaying two horses inside. You only nodded. “Alright, then. Let me note down that we’re headed back, and then we’ll get him up on my horse with me. Sound alright to you?”

He was still in a blurred state, but Tommy vaguely noticed himself writing down a very shortened version of what had happened. It was as thorough as he could make it for being two sentences, but it would have to do. He didn’t even fully understand the situation, himself, but he signed a -T at the end of his entry before turning back to find you surveying the room.

You seemed almost… fascinated by the things you were looking at. The water filter, the coffee machine, all regular items that you could find in almost any town or city. You looked at each of them like they were something to figure out, something to understand. He decided it was best not to comment, and turned back to the book for a few more moments to let you have your fill of exploring the room.

As soon as he thought you’d had long enough, or, as soon as how long he was spending at the book was getting suspicious, he was ushering you towards the horses. His horse, Sadie, was the bigger of the two, and with your help, the two of you managed to get Julian over the back of her.

The ride back to Jackson was about thirty minutes at a leisurely pace, but Tommy was about ready to get back to Maria. Especially since he had no idea if there were more of the people you’d referred to as wolves. The last thing he needed was another fight, just when he was coming back to himself. He’d take another year fixing up houses and porches before having to experience losing his senses again, before being thrust into a time he had no desire to remember.

Still, he had high hopes that you were worth it.

Even more so when he looked over at you, to see that you were looking far more comfortable on the horse than you had been on the walk over to them. You looked content, almost. As if out here, on that horse, you were in your element. But he did have to wonder if you were concealing some sort of injury, with how much you had been wincing on the walk over. He hoped it was just the exhaustion.

About three minutes away from Jackson, Tommy finally spoke up over the steady sound of hooves against the ground. “Now, listen, these people ain’t always the friendliest, but don’t go and take it personally. Everybody just wants to stay safe. When we get there, I’ll help get you set up with some food and a place to sleep, and we’ll see where we go from there, alright?”

“Al—Alright.” You stuttered out, sounding nervous once more, the creases returning to your expression. He noticed the way you gripped the reins tighter, but he didn’t say a word.

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When the two of you rode through the open gates into Jackson, Tommy had expected the rush of people coming towards him.

He realises, a moment after the two of you are surrounded, that he probably should have warned you of what was going to happen. Sure, he’d warned you of the attitudes you were likely to be on the receiving end of, but he hadn’t told you about this. With the way he can see you physically stiffen, he knows he messed up.

“It’s okay,” He tried to reassure you, though he went mostly unheard through the gaggle of people around you, asking more questions than he could answer. “Let’s just have us some space, here, alright?” He told the people around him, to little avail. It was a buzz of worry and upset at the sight of Julian’s body, which he could understand, but Tommy wasn’t quite prepared to deal with that just yet.

Luckily for him, his wife came to his rescue soon enough.

“Everybody, move!” Maria yelled, her stern tone carrying over the mutterings and questions. People were more familiar with her than they were with Tommy, and she commanded a certain amount of respect that had the residents clearing out of her way. “You alright?” She murmured to Tommy, as soon as she was close enough, her hand steady and firm on his arm. Until that moment, he hadn’t even realised that he’d dismounted from his horse, that somebody had gotten Julian’s body down.

Tommy supplied her with a jerky nod, and she nodded in return, more understanding of what he was feeling than even he was himself.

“Let’s get these two to med. Somebody go and get Daniel, I’ll need to speak to him.” Maria said, two of the surrounding people immediately rushing off to go and get Daniel, who Tommy realised must be Julian’s next of kin. He decided not to think too much about it, just yet.

A man he knows from the stables approached him, reaching a hand out to hover in the air between them. “You okay, man? You need help getting to med?” Lincoln asked, brows creased in concern. His hands were dirty, probably from taking care of the horses in the stable during the early shift. Tommy was starting to think he looked far worse than he originally realised.

He saw somebody else approaching you, and watched as you took on a defensive stance, fingers tightening around your bow. “You need a hand?” They asked, kinder than Tommy had expected, and your face creased closer to confusion. He watched Maria approach, lay a hand on their shoulder and wave them off. Tommy dismissed Lincoln a moment later.

He walked over to the two of you, hands clenched into fists as he felt the tremors begin. Maria was explaining to you what was going to happen, her voice softened the slightest bit. “We’re going to get you to a doctor, just to check you’re okay, and then we’ll get you some food and whatever else you need. Sound alright?” She told you, waiting for your responding nod before gesturing for both you and Tommy to follow her. He didn’t miss the way you winced when you stepped forward on your right foot.

The walk was quiet, with most people throughout the town minding their own business, only the occasional person shouting to check everything was okay. Tommy sort of wished that you and Maria would chat, so the silence wasn’t so overwhelming. It was like he could still hear himself firing those bullets.

You kept to yourself through the walk to the medical building, only glancing around at the town when you believed nobody was looking. It was more concerning than anything, to Tommy. It was exactly as it had been in the building the horses were in, that same expression of wonder crossing your features, a curiosity that you tried to keep secret.

He was really trying to rein himself and his paternal feelings in, here, but it was a struggle. He was trying to reason with himself — Tommy had no idea why those people were after you. For all he knew, they could have been justified in having it out for you. It wouldn’t be the first time Tommy had heard about a kid being violent and what could be called evil. Especially in a world like this.

But Tommy had done awful things in his lifetime, before and after the world ended, so he had no right to judge you without knowing your life. You were a kid, and that was enough. You didn’t deserve to be hunted down like some kind of animal before being tortured and sent to slaughter. It wasn’t right. And sure, he hadn’t been right very much in his life, but Tommy had sworn to himself that he’d do right by Maria, so here he was, with you, trying to be better.

God, he was always trying to be better.

He hoped saving your life wouldn’t prove to be as futile as all his other attempts to be better, because it never seemed to stick when it came to Tommy Miller. He was always one step away from getting worse, always a bruised ego away from making a mistake, always a moment away from losing himself, just as Maria said he would. It was exhausting. It was a never-ending cycle that Tommy had been battling since he was a kid, and to think he had made so little progress by now, when he was old and decaying? It was disheartening. It made his survival feel futile. What good was surviving if he couldn’t let go of his past? If he couldn’t learn to live with what had happened, all those years ago? How much longer could he expect to survive if he couldn’t keep his head in the game when something unexpected happened?

“Tommy.” Maria said, pulling his mind away from his spiralling thoughts, which were quickly turning to self deprecation. She looked just as concerned as she had when he’d returned to Jackson, that familiar crease to her brow, the wrinkles beside her lips deepening into a frown. He hummed in response, taking in the fact that they had entered the medical building — not quite a hospital, but the closest thing they could have to one. “Let Henry take a look at you, alright? I’m taking them to Cassie.” She told him, watching him closely for any signs that he wouldn’t be okay without her, but he only nodded.

Henry was a good man. Almost a fully qualified doctor when the Outbreak happened, which meant he was the closest thing they had to a medical professional. And he was good at what he did, Tommy would give him that. He’d brought more than a dozen medical books back to Jackson for the man, who had a craving to learn more, to save more people. Henry had certainly fixed Tommy up on more than one occasion.

And it helped that Henry was familiar with certain… unspoken psychiatric conditions. He knew what Tommy was in for the moment that Maria escorted him to the man’s door. Henry knew exactly what had happened by the way Tommy’s hand shook and his forehead sheened with sweat. It made things easier for Tommy, to not have to explain himself.

Instead, Henry prescribed him a week’s worth of expired painkillers for the aches and pains that would come shortly, and he handed Tommy a glass to drink from. He stitched the wound on Tommy’s cheekbone and said nothing as he breathed through the pain, as he clenched his trembling fingers into a fist and kept his eyes on the poster that covered the opposite wall.

When Henry finished, Tommy gave him a brief thank you, before he was exiting the room with an inhale still rattling in his chest. It was a relief to let that breath out, to exhale and feel something akin to safety as he headed towards Cassie’s space. It wasn’t far, and Tommy was surprised he hadn’t heard the commotion whilst in Henry’s room.

He entered after a brief knock to see you curled up with your bow clutched in a fist, whilst Cassie and Maria stood on the opposite end of the room with placating hands held out towards you. Despite the exhaustion filling his very bones, Tommy’s brows furrowed in concern for you, that feeling of worry gnawing at his chest.

“Woah, hey, everythin’ alright in here?” He asked, paying Maria no mind as she gave him a stern but concerned glare. He chose to pay attention to you instead, to the way your face was crumpled defensively, the way you seemingly tried to shield yourself from Cassie and Maria. From him. If you’d have given him your name, he would’ve said it then, in an attempt to connect with you. But you hadn’t, and you’d reacted badly to him calling you kid, so he was at a bit of a loss.

You glared over at the two women who had been trying to help you, looking all the more like a cornered animal. “I didn’t agree to—to you using your old world things on me!” You spat out, recoiling as if they’d done something truly awful. Tommy didn’t really understand what you were talking about, but figured that maybe to you, they had.

“Okay, alright, let’s just take a deep breath here.” Tommy told you, a hand out towards Maria and Cassie as if he was mediating the situation. He supposed that Maria would just be glad that he wasn’t in too bad of a mindset. “You don’t have to do anythin’ you don’t wanna do, you hear? We’re just trying to help you, but we’ll go at your pace. Sound alright?”

You nodded after a moment of hesitation, without wavering in your expression.

“Okay.” Tommy said with an exhale, mostly of relief as you uncurled slightly. “How about that food and some sleep, then?” He offered, relaxing further when you perked up the slightest bit. He imagined that you were probably starving from whatever chase you had been involved in, and so Tommy was prepared to give you just about whatever food you could ask for. He was glad to see your grip loosen on the bow at the mention of food.

Maria stepped forwards, unwavering in the face of your tense expression, and placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, face softened. “The garage behind us is empty.” She said, an offer, if Tommy had ever heard one. He smiled at her, the gesture tight and tense after the day he’d had, but it was true nonetheless. “I can go to the canteen.” She added, nodding her head towards the door behind him.

“Sounds good to me,” Tommy said, his creased expression loosening at his wife’s support. “How’s about we go and get you settled, then? And Maria’ll bring along some food for you.”

“Sounds… good.” You settled on, almost reluctantly, as if you were copying Tommy’s language. He sure hoped you didn’t do that too much. He could remember how many times Joel would scold him, all those years ago, for teaching Sarah all of the bad words he knew of. He was well known for having the mouth of a sailor.

Tommy nodded, gesturing towards the door for you to go first. Before he left, he turned to Cassie, who had watched the whole situation in silence, and thanked her for her time. She smiled at him uncertainly, still not very confident in her abilities despite learning from Henry for close to two years. Tommy couldn’t imagine that you and your lack of cooperation would be helpful for those confidence issues, but no matter.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

There wasn’t really a grand tour to give you, Tommy had said, when letting you through a gate into what was apparently his garden. He seemed… sheepish, almost, but mostly, he seemed tired. You could certainly relate to that. When showing you to the place you’d be staying for the night, he had explained how the house on the other end of the garden was his and Maria’s own. Strangely, he had offered for you to come in should you need them, or need anything at all.

It all seemed strange to you.

People weren’t meant to be like, well, this.

Your whole life, you had been told how the world worked, how people worked, by your family, the Elders, everyone. And sure, it had been true for each of the wolves you had encountered, but Tommy seemed different, somehow. On the walk through his town you’d seen their gardens, which were reminiscent of the ones back on the island. Though you were pretty sure they could’ve been improved. Still, it was… odd. Your parents had always told you that people who didn’t seek the Prophet’s guidance were stuck in the past, but from what you’d seen? You weren’t sure what to believe.

Tommy had been violent when you met him. But he had also been… kind. If that was the correct word to describe it. He had also seemed haunted by his own violence, afterwards, which was almost reassuring to you.

Maybe that was why you hadn’t run the moment the man who had been holding you had fallen. Perhaps the haunted look in his eyes was the very reason you had lingered. What else could it have been? These people were supposed to be animalistic. They were supposed to be reliant on the Old World, on what nature had gone to drastic lengths to eradicate.

Sure, their ways of healing screamed of the Old World, so unlike the herbs and salves you were used to, but you were starting to think that some of these Old World things weren’t as terrible as you were led to believe. After the… ritual, the rainwater that had been used to ‘soothe’ the carvings on your face had done very little, and in the deepest parts of your mind, you had always secretly wondered if the Old World’s healing could’ve helped. Even now, the slowly scarring cuts along your cheeks wreaked discomfort across you.

Besides, out from underneath the watchful eye of the other Seraphites, you could admit to yourself that the Old World technology interested you. At the very least, you found yourself able to look at what surrounded you, at what people used to be so reliant upon. It was curiosity, eating away at you, that you were finally able to indulge now that you were alone.

Even in this small garage, you couldn’t help but be interested in the lamp that lit up the farthest side of the room, bathing it in a yellowish glow that slowly started to reach you. You were so used to the flickering light of fire that the steady glow this was giving off made you feel uneasy. It was all just so new, which was ironic, really, given that the Elders had dubbed it old.

Despite being kicked from the island, from the Seraphites, there was still the inherent feeling of wrongness about it all. You had only slept on an actual mattress a handful of times in your entire life, resigned to the bedding made of straw or whatever else your family scrounged up. It was too squishy, too bouncy, and you found yourself laying on the hard flooring rather than relax into something soft. Perhaps it would’ve helped the ache in your back from napping in trees and ditches, but you weren’t ready to find out. You still felt as if your parents would jump out from around the corner to scold you, to reinforce the way of the Seraphites, the way the Prophet had foretold.

You couldn’t remove the stillness of their expressions from your mind. The way they hadn’t even grimaced as the Elder cut into your skin, carved the flesh beneath his aging blade, until you were crying and flinching away from the hands which held you. It was chilling.

You had known, of course, that the ceremony was coming.

It always does for those who finally reach the age in which they can finally become a soldier. You had heard the screams of your neighbour when he had turned of age, had seen the reddened skin of his cheeks as they healed from the Elder’s blade. You had seen the change in him as soon as they turned from wounds to scars, the way he gained that same stillness that your parents retained.

The idea that that could be you was terrifying.

When your mind became quiet, you could feel the stillness creeping up on you, trying to leech into the depths of your mind. You feared becoming the kind of numb which would allow you to be the faithful soldier they had wanted. Wasn’t life the very thing the Prophet was seeking? How far would you be willing to go, in her name? If you had allowed the stillness to take over you, you feared you wouldn’t like the answer.

Even still, it was hard not to miss what had been your home for your whole life.

You missed the familiarity, the community. You missed knowing every inch of your home, missed being able to visualise every tree and building from your memory. You missed having a home. As nice as everyone here appeared, namely Tommy, you knew well enough that people were never as nice as they seemed.

With a sigh, you closed your eyes, resting against the cold ground, and resigned yourself to leaving as soon as possible when you woke back up.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Tommy knew this moment was coming.

He knew that, no matter how much he prayed to a god he no longer believed in, he wouldn’t be able to get out of this. Of bearing his worst moments for Maria to see. Of being vulnerable with his wife, in a way he never thought he would be able to.

Maria looked after him. He knew that. Just as he looked after her. That’s what their marriage was. That’s what they had promised one another in an exchange of vows that Tommy was determined to never break. So, logically, he knew that she only asked because she needed to know, because she had to protect him and she knew he would keep it all bottled up if she didn’t ask.

But it was still hard to face her, to look at her concerned face, pinched eyebrows, and voice the fact that she was right. It was probably a matter of pride, Tommy thought. How could he admit to her that he had failed? That he thought he was capable and he wasn’t? He didn’t want her to coddle him, though he knew that Maria wasn’t exactly one for coddling. He wanted, more than anything, to be okay.

He wanted to be able to go out on a patrol without there being a risk of him losing his senses, losing his mind. He wanted Maria to be able to rely on him, to know that he could do whatever she asked of him. He wanted for Maria to not worry so much about him. He wanted to hear loud noises without his heart pounding and his palms sweating. He wanted to be the same man he was when he could take on ten men at once without blinking, without there being any risk of him losing.

Maria didn’t marry that man, but sometimes, Tommy wished she did.

“So, the kid?” She asked, breaking through the thoughts that were quickly spiralling. He blinked, not expecting that to be her question. Tommy was waiting for her to ask about Julian, the man that he had gotten killed. Not you, who was still asleep in the garage behind their house. “How’d that happen?”

Tommy cleared his throat. “I, uh— Me ‘n Julian got ambushed. They shot him dead before we could even grab our guns, and they were askin’ me about some Scar. As if I had any idea what the hell that meant.” He explained, voice gruff and sounding strange to his own ears. “They were gettin’ real agitated, probably a minute away from shootin’ me when the—the kid shot an arrow, got their attention. Didn’t take ‘em long to find them, and that was the Scar they were talking about.”

Maria’s brows furrowed, as if she was getting irritated herself. Tommy was wise enough to realise it wasn’t at him.

“They were goin’ to— fuck— torture and kill that goddamn kid, Maria. I just went into autopilot, and I killed them all. All of the ones there, at least. I don’t know if there’s more of ‘em, the kid wasn’t sure, but these people… they didn’t even know what happened.” Tommy said angrily, his words coming out with an aggression that Maria raised her eyebrows at. Tommy didn’t tend towards anger. Not really. He got upset and he got even, usually with a sort of passiveness about him. He was usually resigned to what he had to do, not so angry. The situation must’ve gotten to him more than Maria had realised.

“Okay,” Maria said, calm voice soothing Tommy’s frayed nerves, and she placed her hand on his and squeezed. “I’ll send out a patrol to the surrounding areas. And we’ll send a team to clear out the bodies. You got a number?”

He absentmindedly squeezed her hand in return as he replied, “Seven.”

She nodded, feeling her heart tighten at his expression.

Maria never liked sending him out on patrols, and especially without his older brother. Tommy always came back more himself when he went with Joel, rather than the shell that he became when patrolling with other people. It’s not that he wasn’t capable, Maria knew that he was, hell, she had seen that he was. But sometimes doing what you have to in order to survive just doesn’t get easier.

She can remember when she first pried the information of his time in the military from him. She can remember the way his eyes had looked far away, the way he became… distant. It wasn’t easy for him to talk to her about it, but he did it. He managed to explain to her what it had been like for him, all of these years.

Tommy fell into the role of soldier easily. It was being out of that role that he found difficult.

His time with the Fireflies certainly hadn’t helped. All of these battles and wars… for what? None of them had achieved much, and Tommy was all too aware of that. It was just bloodshed for the sake of bloodshed. Remembering, for Tommy, was the worst part. It left him with shaking hands and trembling lips, sweat-soaked shirts and a gaping feeling in his chest as if it was him who had been shot.

It was easy to love Tommy, for Maria. It was easy to look at him and see the man deserving of love and support. It was easy to trust him, to know he would do anything to survive, to come home. But it wasn’t easy for her to watch him battle himself, battle his past, his present. It wasn’t easy to send him on patrols, knowing how much he struggled because of them.

But Tommy, the stubborn Southern man that he was, refused not to go when they needed him. Even though he would be better off staying in Jackson, letting somebody else go, he couldn’t do it. It wasn’t who he was. He was a soldier, a survivor. He couldn’t handle people questioning that. So, she sent him, because she loved him, and that was easy.

“Jesus, Maria, what am I doing here?” He murmured, pressing their clasped hands to his forehead. “What the hell am I gonna do with some kid? As if we don’t have enough on our hands. As if you don’t.” Tommy continued, mostly muttering, shaking his head and heaving a deep sigh.

“Hey,” Maria said, interrupting him, and crouching so she could look up towards his bowed head. She held his hand tighter, pulling it away from his face. “You’re being my husband. And I love you,” She told him, squeezing his fingers tightly, smiling up towards him. “I would never want you to leave behind anybody who deserved a chance, especially this kid. You’ve given them a real chance here, and that’s not something to regret.”

Tommy sighed once more, but nodded, pressing his free hand to the side of Maria’s face to lean forward and kiss her forehead. He lingered for a moment, eyes closed, before squeezing her hand and pulling away. “The kid needs real help.” He admitted, watching his wife tilt her head from side to side before murmuring her agreement. “Not sure we got that kinda help here.”

“Well, we’ll do our best. If they can’t find it here, I don’t think they’ll find it anywhere.” She responded, standing up and cringing at the clicking of her knees. “Now, c’mon,” Maria said, pulling Tommy to his feet, “Tomorrow’s gonna be a long day.”

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

When you woke up, the sky was bright, sun shining behind clouds that covered the sky. Your back was still aching, your bones creaking as you stretched out, your whole body protesting at the idea of getting up.

But you knew you needed to get out of here, to get somewhere that provided some sense of safety, which you imagined would be far away. And you had a creeping worry in the back of your mind that your hosts would change their minds about your presence, so you definitely didn’t want to overstay your welcome. So, despite your eyes itching with exhaustion, and your entire skeleton screaming with aches and pains, you got to your feet.

Your things weren’t out of arms reach, so it took you no longer than a mere moment to gather them all. Your bow was comfortable in your hand, despite your slightly poor skills using it, and the weight of the quill at your shoulder was familiar. Your makeshift bag was far too light to be comfortable, reminding you of your lacking supplies, but it would be better to collect supplies on the way, than risk staying too long.

The moment you opened the door, you were squinting against the bright light of the sky, your eyes burning as you took in the surrounding area. Lights were on in Tommy and Maria’s house, which you could see through the window, and there was the faint sound of movement from a few streets over.

It was hard to face the journey ahead when you were exhausted down to your very bones and you had no destination. But what choice did you have? You were just planning to go the opposite way from where you had come from, and hope for the best. Though you weren’t sure what the best even could be, considering there were no other Seraphites you could go to. And though you weren’t welcome with them, you couldn’t shake the beliefs that were put into your head from your youth. Even with your raging curiousity, you weren’t sure you could adapt to such a drastic change.

“Hey,” Tommy called from the doorway of his house, one arm resting on the doorframe and the other holding the door open. “Not heading out already, are ya?” He asked, eyebrows raised as you squinted towards him, brows furrowing.

“Yes, I am.” You answered firmly, squeezing your bow in your hand.

Tommy sighed, sucking his teeth. “Well, just hang on there, alright? Let me get my boots on and I’ll get you those supplies I owe you.” He told you, not waiting for a response before he was heading into his house, the door banging shut behind him.

You considered, for more than a moment, just leaving while he was in there. But it didn’t seem like a good idea to piss of the man who had shot seven people dead in the span of a few minutes. Despite him saying he owed you supplies, you still couldn’t help but feel like you owed him. Surely him killing those who had been hunting you accrued more debt than you saving him from being shot by said people, and helping transport a dead body. That was seven lives in exchange for one. It didn’t make sense, the more you thought about it.

“Alright,” Tommy said, stepping down and heading towards you. “Shall we?” You nodded.

It was a little while before anybody spoke, the walk continuing in a suffocating sort of silence. Tommy, who was debating how best to go about broaching the subject of you staying without making it seem like you have to, was uncomfortably quiet, his mouth opening and closing more than once.

His gait was slow, slower than it had been when leaving the site of the WLF slaughter, at least, but it was better for your aching bones and weak joints. You didn’t mind the slow walk as much when you thought about the journey you had ahead of you. It was better to conserve energy now, rather than use it all up before you had even made any progress in getting away. Especially since you couldn’t quell the anxiety you had about any loitering wolves, looking for even more revenge.

“You should fix your gardens.” You said, as the two of you passed the greenhouses which housed most of the crops that the people of Jackson relied on. There were people in there now, tending to the various crops that had been planted, some being harvested for the evening already.

Tommy hummed, slowing further to look at the gardens you were talking about. He was surprised to see it was the greenhouses that you were talking about. He waited for you to elaborate, his brows raised.

“Your yield is down,” You stated, slowly, as if confused as to why Tommy was questioning you, to why he didn’t already know. He was actually confused about how you knew about this year’s poor harvest. “You needed to rotate your crops. And plant them further apart.” You told him, your tone telling him that what you were saying was obvious.

“Huh,” He said, hands resting on his hips as he drew to a stop. “We don’t got many experts on farming here in Jackson. Everybody does their best, pulls their weight, but none of us did this, back in the day.” Tommy explained, sounding a touch amused by the situation, like he was still in disbelief about what his life had come to.

This information didn’t surprise you. The prophet had said that people relied too much on their technology. It was why being independent from technology was so important to the Seraphites. You were taught from a young age how to survive by relying on the world around you. These people, clearly, were not. They were doing better than a lot of other places, though, from what you had seen. The WLFs, for example.

But that wasn’t to mean that this place was good enough, in Seraphites standards. Their use of electricity would have immediately caused the Elders string these people up to make examples of them. Electricity, more than anything else, was frowned upon. Though it often seemed unachievable. To you, anyway. You had never been taught how it worked, for good reason, the Elder’s had always said. It was forbidden. More so than anything else that came from the Old World.

Weapons were allowed, provided for the soldiers on the front lines to even the playing field with the Wolves, though that had always seemed hypocritical.

It was hard to shake such beliefs, no matter how hypocritical, even after leaving. After all, it’s not like you left because you stopped believing in the Prophet’s message. Perhaps, if she still lived, you would’ve stayed.

“We could use an expert.” Tommy mentioned, when you stayed quiet, not finding an appropriate response to his previous comment. “That could be you, if you wanted.”

“You said that you’d give me supplies, so that I—I can leave.” You said, voice accusatory as you spun around to face him, brows furrowed and hand itching to clench around your bow, splinters digging into your fingertips.

Tommy’s hands immediately went up, as if surrendering, and he quickly spoke. “And you can, ‘course you can. I just meant that, well, if you wanted, you could stay. We could take care of ‘ya, and you could help out around here like everyone else. ‘S all.”

Strangely, you found yourself wanting to stay.

Not because you trusted him, or anybody, but because you were already exhausted, sick of the running. Sick of fighting for your life simply because you wanted it to be your own. You didn’t want to be a soldier, not after you learned what soldiers did. You wanted to settle down, to sleep, more than anything.

It didn’t feel like an option for you. You didn’t feel like you had any options. Would you be running for your whole life? For whatever you had left of it? Would you ever feel safe again?

Somehow, you doubted it. Perhaps you had done something in a prior life to deserve this. To warrant this treatment, this life. Why else would this be happening to you? Everything that had happened to you had to have happened for a reason. It had to. You needed something to have justified all of this.

“No, I—I need to leave. Before more wolves come for me. Before the Seraphites…” You trailed off, voice shakier than you would’ve liked it. You didn’t need to justify yourself to him, did you?

Tommy stared at you for a long moment, before nodding his head. His arms hung by his sides, before one was scratching the scruff of hair on the side of his cheek. “If that’s what you want. ‘S your choice, kid.” He told you, mustering up the most reassuring smile he could manage. “Well, then, s‘pose we’d better grab you those supplies. You’re losin’ light.”

You followed him when he set off once more, a funny feeling blooming in your chest as you looked at the swirling clouds above you.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

▹— extra a/n: hello lovely people. so this is VERY different from the seraphite!reader fic i promised so long ago. but it’s here!! the abrupt ending is because i started struggling with it, and i didn’t want to drag it on when there’s so much of this part that i like :’) im really really considering doing a part two at LEAST with this fic, perhaps where the reader finds some sense of home?? but idk if yall want that. anyway. i dont know much about ptsd and the experience people have, so i am not saying this representation is accurate in any way!! but this is how i see tommy thinking and how he and maria juggle this struggle yk? i love tommy’s character almost as much as joel’s and i think he deserves to have some more… in-depth ??? writing about his struggles??? yeah. well. that’s that. hope you guys enjoyed regardless!!!

also for those of you on the pedro taglist, i tagged you in this bc it’s tlou and will likely include joel if i do a part 2, but if you don’t wanna be tagged in stuff like this just let me know! love yall!

#heartpascal writes #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x platonic!reader #tommy miller one shot #tommy miller imagine #tommy miller fic #tommy miller imagines #tommy miller angst #tommy miller fluff #tlou one shot #tlou fic #tlou imagine #tlou imagines #tlou angst #tommy miller’s trauma #seraphite!reader #tommy miller x seraphite!reader #tommy miller father figure #(maybe) #((one day)) #joel miller imagines #joel miller one shot

[angelkissiies]

prophetic

abby anderson x scar!reader

cw : mentions of canon violence, injuries, canon doesn’t exist here, slow burn as fuck, literal bare minimum romance but like ,, you can feel it.

wc : 5.5k

a/n : i did NOT proof read this ,, i finished it at 4am and it was 11 pages. nooooo way. hope you enjoy !

The rain pelted you as you followed closely behind the boy, shielding him from sight as you pushed through the dense forest, hearing sharp whistles coming closer and closer no matter how fast you’d tried to run. It felt endless, the harsh scratches of the branches on your skin as you held the machete close- praying you didn’t end up having to use it. 

“Demons!” Lev whisper-shouted, altering you to the growling that seemed to be encroaching faster than the seraphites could- their hellacious moans of plea ingrained into your memory. He tried to ready his bow, pulling an arrow from his quiver before your hand rose to stop him- hand securing around his wrist. 

You shook your head, pointing ahead to the glow of fire in the distance, the area was populated solely by seraphites now- seeing as the treaty fell through. That meant even the smallest noise that could indicate human life would be used as a call sign, sending the hunters out. With a group coming in from behind you and no way to go ahead, you nodded towards the right path, that being the only one seemingly uninhabited. You loosened your grip, urging him to take hold of Yara and run.

Yara nodded swiftly, understanding your plan wordlessly. It was just like that between you two, spending so much time together growing up- despite the age difference, you could read each other like a book. “May she protect you.” She spoke in a hushed whisper, coming to take hold of Lev and practically drag him away from you. She didn’t want to leave you, but she knew you wouldn’t take no for an answer, choosing to trust you knew a way out of this. 

“May she guide you.” You whispered, not loud enough for her to hear as you bolted towards the left, hearing a sharp whistle follow your movements. The goal was to make as much noise as possible, draw them as far as you could from Yara and Lev so they could find a safe place to hide out. They were the ones the elders wanted most of all, your collaboration being shaken off as rebellious youth. If you got caught, your punishment wouldn’t be half as bad as the torture that awaited them back home. 

The rain picked up, soaking through your clothes as you flew blindly through the trees. You could feel the branches snagging your clothes, causing rips in the loose material before you came to a sudden stop- the whistling seemingly coming to an end as you panted. It was quiet, not even the growling of demons permeating the tense overhang of silence, causing your stomach to lurch. They knew you were here, so where were they? 

You got your answer as you felt two arms wrap around your waist, pinning your arms to your side, causing your machete to fall to the damp forest floor. “We found an apostate!” A gruff voice shouted, making your ears ring, their fingers digging into your skin hard enough that you began to feel blood trickle. “No more running.” 

You stifled a scream, not wanting to give them the satisfaction. You knew this was bad, worse than bad actually, feeling another set of hands come to grip your left arm- allowing the first man to settle into the flesh of your right. You’d begun to make peace with the idea of dying tonight, your suffering surely ending in a much swifter way than they’d allow Lev or Yara. It was worth it, in your eyes, to die for such a cause. “The prophet abhors blind followers of evil.” You choked out, trying to dig your heels into the ground as they drug you back towards the fire. 

The man on the right snorted, almost choking on his spit as he laughed. “Don’t tell me what the prophet abhors, apostate.” He snarled, squeezing tighter as he pushed through a thick brush. “You hold no right to her words.” As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. Your ties to the prophet being cut when you chose to leave, to search for freedom elsewhere. 

They pushed a thick branch out of the way, the harsh orange firelight blinding you as they came to a stop before a woman you recognized as Helah. If there was one person you’d always be able to find in a crowd, it was her. From her spindly arms to the mass of dark hair pinned to her scalp, she’d always sent a chill down your spine, now more so- her focus being on a girl struggling to keep her feet on a bucket just a tad too short, a rope tightening around her thick neck. 

Her impossibly dark eyes settled on you as she turned, letting her knife fall to her side as she looked upon you in contempt. “You.” She spoke, tilting her head as she came closer. With every step she took towards you, you could slowly begin to make out the splatter of blood that burned her unnaturally pale face- making you shift uncomfortably in the men's arms, from what you could gather- these bodies were her doing. “Your mother begged us to find you, to save you from the demons.” 

You winced at the mention of your mother, imagining her falling to her knees before the elders- begging them to spare the only daughter she’d ever come to bring full term. You tried to shake off the thoughts, knowing this was her game, manipulation being her weapon of choice. You couldn’t let her get the high ground, not knowing what could possibly come of her supposed ‘mercy’ as allotted by the elders. “The only demons I need saving from are you people.”

One of the men kicked your legs out from under you, making you fall forward as they finally relinquished their grip on your arms. The feeling of the moist earth under you was an almost welcome sensation if it hadn’t been for the words you’d heard slipping from the lips of the woman standing above you now. 

“Clip her wings.”

A horrified scream was ripped from your throat as you tried to scramble off of the ground, motions halted by hands pushing you back down- cheek pressed roughly into the hard ground. You could feel the rocks digging into your skin as you tried to wriggle away, harsh sobs falling from your lips. As a last resort, you cast your eyes upward, coming to connect with the dangling girl. 

She looked on in gargled disbelief, face turning an unhealthy shade of red as she held your gaze. What did they mean by clipping your wings? It wasn’t something she’d ever heard of in passing during the time of the treaty. Her stomach lurched, as she watched you closely, almost forgetting the fact that she was also fighting for her life. Though, she couldn’t manage to tear her gaze away, the horror in your eyes sending shivers down her spine. In those moments, it felt like time moved in slow motion, watching as the repulsive-looking man brought down a massive hammer to the joint of your elbow. The screams embedded themselves into her chest, every shrill, ear-piercing noise committed to memory. 

You couldn’t breathe, the white-hot pain filling your entire body as you felt him hand off the hammer. The shock had sent your body into a primal shudder, twitching uncontrollably as you tried to conceptualize the pain- you had to get up. You had to get up now. Your working arm was held down in place, dirty nails cutting into your skin, leaving you to try to use your broken one as leverage. “Oh, god.” You whimpered, the pain shooting into your shoulder with every movement. 

Suddenly, the man’s hand on your wrist went limp- the large hammer coming to land with an obnoxious thump on the ground by your head. The newfound freedom giving you the chance to pull yourself away from the other man, hand securing on the fallen hammer. As you turned yourself around, you saw the man lying with an arrow poking out from the back of his head, though your curiosity was short-lived- attention being caught by the short, struggling breaths coming from behind you. 

The girl secured her legs around Helah’s throat, holding her in place as she struggled with catching small puffs of air. You stared in amazement for a moment before sense kicked back in, pushing yourself off of the ground. The pain took a backseat to the problem at hand, legs trembling under your weight as you used your remaining strength to swing the hammer to wedge into the woman's skull- seeing her instantly fall limp, the girl letting her fall to the ground as she relaxed her legs. 

“Help me.” The blonde wheezed, eyes beginning to roll back into her skull, face turning a sickly shade of blue. The bucket was long gone, lost in the struggle between her and Helah, causing her to swing haphazardly on the tensed rope. The world was beginning to dot in black, pupils tiny from the lack of oxygen. She didn’t even have to grab the woman, it was a choice she made in the moment- seeing the way she delighted in the suffering of a seemingly innocent girl. Maybe it was her conscious dictating her actions, or maybe, it was a nagging voice in the back of her head- telling her that if it was her, she’d like to think you do the same thing. How she could know that was beyond her, it didn’t make sense logically, but it was enough for her. 

You nodded quickly, hissing as you grabbed your broken arm in an attempt to not strain it anymore. You eased yourself onto the ground, feeling around under Helah’s body for the knife she’d been planning to use on the girl. “I’m sorry.” You huffed, stifled breaths breaking your words as you finally found the blade. You got back to your feet, wasting no time in your sawing of the thick rope. It came apart with a harsh snapping noise, sending the girl onto the ground hard. 

Yara bounded out of the darkness, your lost machete in hand as she looked at the two of you frantically. “Demons, we have to go!” She rushed, motioning to the path leading left, Lev following her lead as she pushed forward. Her eyes tried to avoid your limp arm, the discoloration seeping from your joint down to your fingertips, guilt overtaking her. 

You nodded, urging them to go, as you looked at the girl. “Are you okay?” It was simple, something so seemingly meaningless, but enough to convey the appreciation you felt towards her. She was the only reason you weren’t dead, feeling absolutely sure that Helah would’ve ended you before your friends could save you. 

She nodded, pulling the rope from around her neck before dipping down to jerk the hammer from the woman's skull. “Can you still run?” She asked, hearing the noises of infected closing in. The last thing she wanted was to let you die, seeing as she now felt just as indebted to you as you did her. 

“Yeah, yes. I think.” You grunted, pulling your lifeless arm to your chest as you gave her a curt nod. “We have to go, come on.” 

The blonde eyed you for a second before giving in, giving you a small nudge forward as she took off in the direction of what she assumed were your friends. She could hear your slowed footfalls behind her, making her cut her pace to let you pass her. If anything was to catch up, she could handle them- but in your state, you’d be too easily overtaken. 

It didn’t take long for the two kids to come into view, their bodies moving nimbly through the trees as they seemed to have a rendezvous spot in mind. You didn’t even consider asking about their plan, focusing solely on just making it there- the mind-numbing pain being the only source of drive you had left. You stumbled, feet getting caught up on a root that blended into the dark earth, acting just fast enough to catch yourself on a nearby tree, your arm falling limply to your side. 

“I can carry you if you need.” 

You shook off her offer, panting lightly before pushing forward- not even able to grab at your arm anymore. Every breath rattled your body, sending indescribable jolts of pain reverberating through your nervous system, if you’d not known any better you’d have assumed this was what dying felt like- but you’d always been classified as the dramatic type, so you tried not to dwell on it. “I can make it.” You attested, not fully believing your own words, but pushing forward nonetheless. 

The forest felt endless, from blindly following Yara’s lead to dodging infected spewing from unknown sources- it was like it was trapping you here. In a constant state of suspended terror, you dragged behind, feeling the burly girl's unrelenting aura looming over you with every step. She was different from the other wolves, you’d gathered in your short time with her, her attitude about your situation border lining empathy. It was something you’d never expect from her kind, having spent most of your life running from their old-world weapons. 

“Here!” Lev called behind to you, seeing your figure slowly encroaching on the two of them, he wanted to run back to help but restrained himself- seeing the shadows morph into fungus-ridden figures trailing after the pair of you, he nocked his bow in preparation. 

The girl ushered you forward, turning her back to you whilst you slid through behind Yara, allowing Lev to enter before she followed behind him- making sure no infected managed to come in behind the four of you. Her hair was sticking wildly to her face, eyes blown with adrenaline as she pushed herself through the hole. “Where from here?” She gasped, catching her breath as she peered around at the three of you standing at a fenced-in gap. 

Yara was inspecting your arm silently, leaving Lev to speak on her behalf. “The fence, it’s new, we have to go through there.” He explained, his bow remaining tense in his hands as he watched the girl carefully. 

She nodded, coming to kneel next to the fence. Her hands latched in the lattice holes, grunting slightly as she pulled the wire away from the pole. She managed to get it loose, holding it open for the three of you to pass. 

“Go ahead.” You halted Yara, pushing her gently towards the exit, not giving her the option to object. Her eyes lingered on your arm before giving a hesitant step towards the hole in the fence, giving it a once over before getting down on her hands and knees to crawl through. “Lev, you next.” He bore no hesitation, following Yara’s motions. 

You bent down next to the girl, ducking your head through the hole and using your feet to push yourself out to the other side, hearing her mutter a soft ‘watch your arm’ unconsciously. You heeded her words and pulled the limb to your chest, holding it firmly in place as you found your footing again, only to be grabbed by a force strong enough to rival that of what you imagined a god could. A choked scream passed through your lips, cut off by the neckline of your shirt coming to press uncomfortably around your throat- whoever had you was using the fabric of your shirt to dangle you just above the ground. 

“Goddamn it, leave her alone!” Her gruff voice rang out, finally wriggling herself free from the fencing, coming to bring the hammer down on the person's knuckles. It was enough for them to release you, letting you fall to your feet, their attention now solely on the wolf. Something she didn’t mind, her abilities lying mainly in her uncanny strength, as you’d come to notice. She took in the massive woman, eyes zeroing on the straps of an oh-so-familiar bag that hung on her back- practically straining against her massive shoulders. It lit a fire in her, her fingers tensing over the handle of the hammer- tilting her head slightly. “Is that my fucking backpack?” She shouted, quickly dodging out of the way of her massive pick, and taking a few stunned steps back.

You stumbled away from the pair, whipping around just as Lev let an arrow fly- landing in the woman's shoulder- sharpened stone burying itself in the muscle, giving the wolf a moment to strike. It was like watching feral dogs fight, strike- yelp- strike. They both had the strength to overpower normal people, but when paired together it was one immovable force meeting another. 

The girl locked her hand in the strap of the backpack, jerking the woman back just as she struck- hammer embedded in her skull. It was like destroying a sand castle, her body crumbling right before you in a mass of blood and muscle, it took one hit. “Fucking hell.” She hissed, kneeling down beside the woman’s body to strip her of the backpack that was rightfully hers- not hesitating to retrieve the hammer either. “We almost there?” 

Yara nodded quickly, pointing towards a building marked with a large seraphite symbol. “I-it should be right through there,” She began, glancing around nervously, anticipating the arrival of more soldiers- or worse wolves. “We have to hurry, she might not make it much further.” 

The words sent a pang of guilt into your stomach, causing you to shake your head. “I’m fine, I promise. I can make it.” You assured, glancing over to the bloodied girl, not letting your eyes linger for too long. You didn’t want to be seen as a burden, even now with a lame arm, you could still keep going- you had to. It wasn’t for lack of trying, that your convincing words fell through, no it was the sight of your now blood-red fingers peeking out from your shirt sleeve that caused the three of them to share a look of concern. “Let’s go, now, before they catch up.” 

The wolf stayed close behind you, eyes trained on the crimson of your fingers as she racked her brain for a possible explanation. Her father being a doctor meant nothing in the long run, leaving her with a basic knowledge of injuries, not nearly enough to account for what had happened to you. “How’s the arm?” She hummed, not wanting to bother you too much in case her presence began to cause you to recoil from her, seeing how differently you two were. 

“Bearable.” You managed, doing anything to not think about the numbness that had begun to creep into your arm. You knew it wasn’t a good sign, seeing as normally when you got injuries- even bad ones, they continued to hurt. This was a new sensation, one that sent a dread-filled ball into your stomach. “Thank you, by the way.” You added, your dull eyes coming up to meet hers as you pushed a bramble push to the side so you could pass. 

She chuckled, the noise lightening the mood for a moment, shaking her head in disbelief. “Don’t mention it.” She spoke quietly, coming to a stop in front of the warehouse ledge, lifting herself effortlessly onto the platform before turning to you- offering her hand. “Can I ask a question?” It was something she hadn’t been able to shake, the idea of ‘wing clipping’ being something regularly used in scar life, she wanted to gain perspective- though after she asked, she realized how bad a time this might be. 

You took her help gratefully, scaling the wall with minimal effort. Once your feet were back on solid ground you nodded at her, using your good arm to pull your lame one close to your body, trying not to hit it on anything. It had gotten easier to deal with the arm, though you’d begun feeling an uncomfortable chill creeping up your spine as the minutes dragged on. “Ask away.” You prompted, watching as she took hold of the latch- pulling the heavy metal off of the ground so the three of you could slide in under the door.

“Do the scars clip wings.. a lot?” She spoke once you’d all made it under, letting the heavy door fall closed with a ridiculously loud bang. Her hands came to her pants legs, wiping off the rust that had detached from the old metal, leaving red stains on the taut cargo. 

The words made you shudder unconsciously, the flashes of burning hot pain plaguing your memory. For something so recent, you could’ve sworn this ache was ancient, rattling even the strongest pieces of your will. “Seraphites, and,” You paused, shaking off the unwelcome recollections. “It’s not the go-to method of punishment if that’s what you’re asking.” It was mainly true, wing clipping being reserved only for the apostates they had no will to kill. Their goal was to maim them enough that they wouldn’t consider disobeying again, and usually, it worked. “It’s reserved for the ones the council decides to spare.”

Her brows knitted together, “Spare?” From her viewpoint, this seemed worse than death, the bones surely crushed into powder by the sheer amount of times she man brought the hammer down onto the joint. The memory made her want to crawl out of her skin, hammer suddenly feeling much heavier, the screams being the worst thing she’d ever heard in her life. “This is what they consider sparing people?” She wanted to say more but stopped herself, not understanding why she cared so much about the goings of scars. 

“I’m just glad to be alive.”

She nodded, finding that a good enough reason to drop the conversation there. “Grab any supplies you find, okay?” 

Lev almost choked on his own spit, looking at Yara and then at you. “We can’t touch this stuff, it’s old world.” His words hung in the air between you as you gave him a half-shrug. His mouth snapped shut before he turned on his heel, using the tip of an arrow to move stuff on the tables around- your reply wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but he didn’t dare to fight against it. 

You came to stand with Yara, her hands trembling as she thumbed through different stacks of old material. “You okay?” You hummed, swallowing thickly as her glossy eyes met your own, indicating she was nowhere near it. She was such a strong girl, pushing aside her emotions for the sake of others. She was so good at it, it had become her fatal flaw. 

She nodded curtly, dropping her eyes back down to the sheets of fabric, stuffing them in her pocket haphazardly. “I’m sorry, sister.” She whispered, doing everything in her power to keep her voice steady. “I went back for your machete, I... I thought I’d be able to get to you in time.” She turned on her heel, coming to face you fully, tears brimming her dark eyes. “I was wrong.”

The sight made your stomach twist into knots, free arm coming to wrap around her shoulders gently- pulling her small frame into your chest. She’d been the sister you needed through childhood, becoming the closest thing to blood you had besides your mother. It crushed you to hear her blame herself for something that should've never had to happen, the blame falling on the group you’d once thought was home. “She sees your love, she doesn’t blame you. Neither do i.” You hummed, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid letting the brimming tears escape, ignoring the faint feeling that had crept into your head as you held her.

A cough drew you from the embrace, causing you to turn in response- the movement almost knocking you off of your feet. “We found a way forward, might even be a couple places to rest.” The wolf spoke, nodding towards a door Lev stood by, seeing it barely hanging onto its hinges as rain droplets slowly raced down the corrupted frame. “Are you feeling okay?” She spoke suddenly, not letting you fit a word in before stepping forward, the back of her hand coming in contact with your forehead. 

You almost took a step backward, your heart jumping into your throat at the heat of her touch. It felt like she was on fire, her skin burning into yours as she spared Yara a nervous glance. “What’s wrong, why are you so hot?” You asked, tearing away from her touch with a slight tremble in your legs. You brought your own hand up, pressing it to your forehead in the same manner she had- pulling away quickly, finding your hand coated in sweat. 

“You have a fever, we need to get you out of here, now.” She pushed forward, not letting you object as she scooped you into her arms- careful to not crush your arm further. This was something she knew wasn’t a good sign, meaning you’d contracted an infection or worse. 

The sudden change left your head spinning, the body heat radiating off of the girl making you uncomfortably hot as you writhed in her arms, fighting in a sense. Not against her but against her unbearable heat, though in your eyes currently- they were one and the same. “You’re so hot, wolf, I can't breathe.” You knew she wasn’t doing this out of malice, quite the opposite actually, but sense evaded you in your current state. 

She pushed through the doorway, eyes locking on a trailer on the far side of the yard- her feet picking up pace as she held you firmly in place. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.” She managed, on any other day she would’ve made some tasteless joke about her being hot, but she settled on this not being the time for it. She could feel your body shuddering, still trying to fight off her warmth as she practically broke down the trailer door- kicking it open so hard it left a door knob-sized hole in the panel wall. 

Lev followed closely behind her, closing the door behind Yara to avoid drawing any more attention. “Is she gonna be okay?” He asked gingerly, putting his bow to rest on the dusty countertop. He knew the wolf didn’t seem like a healer, so she probably wouldn't know, but it was worth it to at least ask. 

The girl gently let your body press into the moth-eaten couch, her arms sliding from beneath you with ease. “Can I?’ She asked, nodding to your arm, seeing the purple tint your fingers had taken on in the time it had taken the four of you to get out of the woods. A nod was all she needed, her hands coming to your arm. 

One hand held your wrist, and the other pushed the linen of your tattered long-sleeved shirt up past your elbow. As the extent of your injury came to the light, nobody moved. The air felt stale, not even a ragged breath cutting through the anxious silence. You glanced down, the sight drawing a sharp gasp from your mouth, dark red pigmented your skin down to your fingers, which now took on a darker more purple hue. It looked like something a child would draw, devoid of all sense of tone, hung high in some disease-ridden home. 

“I can set it, That might help.” The wolf spoke, eyes betraying her thoughts as she glanced up at you, trying to make it less scary. If maybe by some miracle this could work, she’d try just about anything. “Let me do that, okay?”

You didn’t even think to object, giving her a tiny nod. “Yara, the cloth.” You spoke, looking between her at the girl. “That would help, right?” You checked, having the most inept idea of healing from your time spent sneaking around the healer's hut for herbs. 

Yara dug into her pockets, drawing out a handful of thick strips of cloth- immediately placing them into the hands of the girl. “I can go find more if we need more.” She rushed, watching closely as the girl turned them in her hands. 

She nodded, “This is perfect, thank you.” She gave the younger girl a tight-lipped smile, kneeling beside the couch. She brought the chair leg to rest on her knee, popping the fabric on top of it, as she placed her hands at the wrist and just above the elbow. This was going to hurt, a lot, and the only way she could think to do it- was by distracting you. “What’s your name?” 

“It’s-,” You began, only to be met with a harsh crack and a searing pain filling your arm. From your fingers to your shoulder, it felt like someone had sent you through initiation again, fire licking at your skin. “-My god!” You hissed in response, a choked sob escaping your trembling lips. 

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” She shushed gently, letting your arm come to rest on the cushions as she picked the chair leg up- fitting it to your arm. “You’re gonna be okay-?” She drew out, waiting for you to finish your previous sentence 

“(y/n), my n-name is (y/n).” You forced through the pain, breathing labored as you felt her secure the wood to your arm- straightening it permanently to let it heal. You had no idea if it would work, but you chose to trust her, not considering the fact that she might have just been lying for the sake of your comfort. “What’s yours?” 

She smiled slightly, finishing up her work, letting her forearms come to rest on her knee. “Abby.” It was like some switch inside of her had flipped, all thoughts of her original reason for coming out here being lost in her subconscious, heart jumping with anxious beats at the idea of leaving the three of you here- but she had to go, much to her dismay.

“Abby.” You repeated sluggishly, getting a feel for it on your lips, earning a small chuckle from her. “Thank you, Abby.” 

Abby stood, glancing between the two kids standing off to the side- looking visibly relieved. “I have to go, try not to make any noise. '' She warned, knowing the wolves had not cleared this area of infected yet. If they needed to be scared of anyone, it was the flesh-hungry infected that ran these woods. The ache to stay threatened her chest, forcing her to move faster. She pushed out of the door, halting on the wet steps as she turned on her heel- coming face to face with the boy she now knew as Lev. 

“Listen, kid. Whatever shape she’s in, you need to be out of here by tomorrow.” Her words came out rushed, her hand digging into the door frame as she loomed over him, watching as his lips set into a thin line. She didn’t know what else to say, already conflicted enough, so she just took a step back. “Don’t let her die because you wanted to be a hero.” 

╰╮later

The night passed in a blur of delusion-filled hallucinations, the pain creeping back into you when you least expected it. So when the light of morning poured through the tattered curtains, you thanked the prophet for the ability to even see another day- having thought many times you’d just die with the next flutter of your eyelids. 

“Here, drink this.” Yara hummed, holding a small water bottle up beside your head- waiting for you to part your now chapped lips. Her hands shook slightly, letting the liquid drip out of the bottle slowly to avoid making you choke. She’d not slept, spending the night hovering over you just to be sure you were still breathing, making her even more cautious in her pouring. 

You swallowed the water gratefully, feeling the ache in your throat dull slightly with the moisture. “Thank you, but really, try to rest before we have to leave.” You pleaded, eyes glossed over with the usual maternal worry you reserved for the siblings. “It’s gonna-,” 

Your words were cut off by the door swinging open, Yara immediately reaching for Lev’s bow on the counter her hands moved faster than you could follow, nocking an arrow and letting it fly in just seconds before a familiar voice called out from behind the door. ‘It’s me!” They began, slowly coming around the corner, face flushed. 

Yara let out a stressed breath, watching Lev rise from his sleep with a confused expression on his face. “On the prophet, have you heard of knocking?” She huffed, letting the bow fall back onto the counter as she crossed the room to collect Lev’s (definitely broken) arrow. 

“Abby?” You spoke quietly, voice hoarse as you gazed up at her approaching form, her name still feeling foreign on your lips. “What are you doing here?” 

The blonde shook her head shortly, kneeling down by the edge of the couch- leveling with you, letting her gaze rake over the sickly flush of your face. “You deserve a shot, (y/n).” She spoke, bringing a hand to rest on your uninjured one tenderly. “I’m here to give you one.”

#abby tlou #abby the last of us #abby anderson #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson ff #abby anderson x scar!reader #abby x scar!reader #seraphites #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us part 2 #hbo the last of us #the last of us 2 #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us ff #lev and yara #lev tlou #yara tlou #x reader #x you

[abbysthighs]

I'm trying to take more dynamic shots.

#abby anderson #abby tlou #abby x reader #tlou2 #the last of us part 2 #the last of us part ii #seraphites #abby lesbian #abby fanfiction #lesbian #virtual photography #gaming #game capture #playstation #sony #flamethrower #tlou weapons

[sweetercalypso]

New Gods ✩ Abby Anderson

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: The first time Abby meets seraphite!reader, she shows her mercy. The second time they meet, reader repays her kindness

Notes: minors dni; fingering and oral (Abby rec.), semi-public sex, afab reader, dom!Abby, mean!Abby, mentions of guns, brief violence, religious references, enemies to lovers

When Abby hears that she’s being put on a patrol headed for the abandoned side of town, she thinks it’s a joke.

Surely this was some form of punishment, or a test of her loyalty to Isaac’s command. Two weeks in an unoccupied base with a batch of new recruits – it has to be a mistake.

It’s not until the transport truck pulls away from the stadium that Abby accepts the reality of the situation, groaning into her hands to hide her indignation.

The only good thing about this patrol, she thinks, is that absolutely nothing can go wrong.

Abby and her entourage of WLF recruits arrive at their assigned base late in the evening, the sun already sinking low behind Seattle’s derelict skyline.

The city is silent beyond the hum of the armored truck rolling to a stop in front of an old office building. Years ago, the area had been a thriving hub of WLF activity, but the threat of Seraphite armies had shifted attention elsewhere, leaving the bases to sit empty and collecting dust.

Abby swallows her complaints as the truck’s engine shuts off, leaving a jarring silence that prompts her fellow gunmen to turn their collective attention towards her.

Her expertise is better suited to combat than to training, and the thought of being in charge of four wide-eyed rookies makes her question the sanity of whoever put this team together.

She briefly explains the patrol assignment before dolling out tasks to each of the recruits, leaving herself the duty of surveying the perimeter.

Early WLF soldiers had cleared most of the infected while the area was still active, and with the lack of excitement in the streets, Abby returns to the base with the verdict that this patrol will be entirely uneventful.

While the others are setting up camp on the second floor – five cots lined against a wall with a radio station by the windows and supply crates littered around the room – Abby keeps herself busy with watching the thick, heavy clouds rolling in the distance.

She imagines what she might be doing if she had been placed on a different patrol and she crosses her arms over her chest with a bitter sigh.

 Anything has to be more exciting than this.

 –

Abby awakens while the sky is still dark, the remaining light of dusk swallowed by the inky black threat of storm clouds overhead.

Thunder cracks viciously in the air, rumbling the dusty room and promising to crumble the building’s frame already bowing under years of neglect.

The sound of her distress is barely audible over the harsh rain beating against the windows and, for a moment, Abby can’t remember where she is.

Her mouth feels dry, and it takes an effort to slow her labored breaths. She runs a hand over her face, wiping away her momentary confusion before checking that the other patrollers are still asleep, slipping off her cot and stumbling blindly through the darkened room.

Her weapons and her pack are still resting against a nearby crate, exactly where she’d left them. She slips the strap of her backpack between her fingers, hoping that the familiar worn canvas will distract from the deafening thunder crackling in her ears.

She holds her breath and counts the seconds between the streaks of lightning and claps of thunder – a trick her dad had taught her when she was young.

Somewhere between flash and bang, the sound of footsteps overhead catches Abby’s attention. Her head jerks up towards the source of the noise and she quickly forgets about the looming urgency of bad weather.

The door to the stairwell is propped open, and although Abby knows it was left ajar to air out the stuffy office space, she can’t help but imagine something sinister looming beyond the doorway.

She grabs the closest gun and makes her way to the stairs, listening for the sounds of movement overhead.

All the floors had been checked for infected and all the windows had been secured, but Abby still couldn’t shake the thought of someone invading their base in the dead of night.

She treads up the stairs and pushes the door open, only to be met with the sight of a lonely silhouette moving through the darkness. Abby jumps into action just as she’d been taught, heart thumping wildly as she raises her weapon and aims.

“Get on the ground – now!”

She spits out the stern command, harsh but still quiet enough that it barely fills the room. Despite the anger twisting in her chest, she’s rational enough to know better than to alert the other patrollers sleeping downstairs.

From the looks of it, the intruder was here alone, unarmed. It seemed better to deal with the situation on her own than to cause unwarranted panic the first night in to a new assignment.

The sound of her voice must’ve caught you by surprise because you stop dead in your tracks, not even moving to lunge for cover from the stranger gunning you down.

Illuminated by only the sharp flashes of lightning cutting through the shadows, it takes a moment for Abby to piece together the scene before her.

You’re soaked to the bone, cloaked in brown cloth and shivering from the rain clinging to your skin.

At first, she thought you might’ve been a soldier from another patrol, separated from your group and seeking shelter in an expectedly empty outpost. Or maybe you could’ve been a straggler roaming the city in search of supplies left behind by its former inhabitants.

But when a crack of lightning catches your features at the right angle, Abby recognizes the mark stretching across your cheek, and realization washes over her.

“Fucking Scars.”

She keeps her gun steady, though her fingers flex against the heavy, steel grip.  

With eyes trained diligently on your figure, she closes the distance between the two of you in a few short steps, scowling when she’s close enough to discern the look of confusion on your face.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” She doesn’t wait for a reply, shoving the muzzle of her gun roughly into your shoulder and spitting out a sharp “answer me”.

Her boot hits the back of your leg and you crumble into the floor with swallowed discontent.

“I’m not- I didn’t know you would be here.” You scramble to explain yourself, chancing a look at Abby standing behind you. She pushes her gun further into your shoulder, silently instructing your gaze back to the floor.

“This building’s supposed to be empty. It says so on the map.”

“You’re spying on our bases?” Her voice rises with every word, no longer concerned with who might hear. “Planning a fucking ambush?”

“No! Nothing like that. I’m not a soldier, I was supposed to collect supplies from the city, but I got caught in the rain.”

She laughs and rolls her shoulders reflexively.

“I don’t care why you’re here – Scars don’t get second chances.”

Thunder rattles the thin-paned windows lining the room. Abby’s heartbeat fills her ears. Prayer tumbles from your lips like the nervous chatter of teeth – uneasy, repetitive, instinctive.

Abby had never given much thought to prayer before, especially not that of a Scar. It’s always the same routine pleading that’ll never be answered. But it doesn’t sound like you’re begging for salvation, it sounds like you’re making peace.

Something about the situation doesn’t seem fair. You’re completely helpless, caught in a trap you couldn’t see laid out in front of you. Your people must’ve known something like this could happen, yet they sent you into the wolves’ den, anyway – a sacrificial lamb led to the slaughter.

A foreign pang of uncertainty resonates through Abby’s chest, and she lowers her gun with a shake of her head.

“Just- just go.”

A beat passes before you look back at Abby in disbelief. You gape blankly at her for a moment before mouthing a small “what?”.

She huffs impatiently and grabs you by the arm, hauling you up from your position on the floor. If anyone came in and found the two of you standing this close, you’d both be dead before you could part.

“Leave. Now. If the others find you here, they won’t be so nice.”

Her eyes flit over your face, searching for confirmation that she was doing the right thing. She expected to find fear etched into your features, maybe gratefulness, or even shock. But she’s met with only curiosity in your wide, unblinking eyes.

She pushes you away and turns to leave before she can change her mind, shutting the door behind her with a soft thud.

Abby knows what the other patrollers would’ve done if they had found you first. She knows what she would’ve done if the circumstances had been different.

You should be dead – or worse. It hadn’t been that long since she’d assisted in the interrogations that happened to Scars who’d been captured and strung up in cells for the rest of their days.

When Abby thinks about those people now, only one face stares back at her.

–

The next morning, Abby is forced to bite her tongue when someone finds the upstairs window open, raindrops clinging to the wood frame serving as the only evidence of your intrusion.

She blames it on one of the other patrollers, suggesting that they didn’t do a thorough enough sweep the night before, but not everyone is convinced.  

They search the building anyway but come up empty-handed, and the situation is defused and entirely forgotten by midday.

For the remainder of their two-week patrol, Abby wonders if you had really been there at all, or if you were a product of some underlying guilt she had stored in the back of her mind. She would stay up through night and listen for the sound of footsteps, not sure if she should feel relief or disappointment when the mornings arrived without any sign of you.

When the familiar rumble of the armored truck rolls in to collect Abby and the recruits, she returns to the stadium and does her best to keep you off her mind.

She volunteers for extra shifts; she monitors the communications radio; she listens to stories of other patrollers and wonders if they’re describing you in their encounters with unnamed and faceless Scars.

When she hears about another group headed for the abandoned side of the city, she jumps at the opportunity to join their patrol. Anything for some peace of mind, she tells herself.

They’re dropped off in front of a different building, a couple blocks west of where her last patrol had been located. Abby’s chest deflates when she realizes the absurdity of her desire to find you again.

It’d been weeks since she’d let you go, and surely you’d learned your lesson about venturing near WLF bases alone. Maybe you hadn’t, and someone else had found you before Abby had the chance.

She shivers at the thought and moves to catch up with the rest of her team, abandoning her concern for something more practical.

She offers to check the upper floors while the others bring in supplies, and no one objects to avoiding the endless flights of stairs and dusty rooms waiting for her.

Four floors up, Abby stops to inspect a window that had been broken some time ago. Shards of glass and a handful of dead leaves lay at her feet, and when stoops down to look for anything out of the ordinary, the door to the stairwell creaks shut behind her.

“It’s you.”

Her head whips around at the sound of your voice, familiar but different now that you’re no longer at her will.

From where she stands, Abby can see the way your chest rises and falls with anticipation, the way your hands twist at your sides. She waits for you to speak again, but the room falls silent.

“What’re you doing here?” she hisses, praying that the others were too busy to come check on her progress.

“I heard the truck – I knew you were coming.”

Abby frowns and moves a step closer. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Do you know how many of those soldiers downstairs would like to get their hands on you?”

You cock your head to the side, as if you didn’t understand.

“You saved my life once already. I wouldn’t have come if I thought I’d be in danger.”

She scoffs at the presumption that she would betray her people again, but a small voice reminds her that’s exactly what she’d planned to do.

She moves past you to leave but you stop her with a hand laid over her arm. Abby’s jaw tenses at the contact, but when her resentful gaze flickers up to meet yours, she’s met with the same unabashed interest you’d worn before.

“I owe you, wolf. The Prophet commands us to repay those who show mercy.”

You pause before continuing. “Anything you want, it’s yours.”

Abby takes a moment to consider. What does she want?

She wants your leader’s head at her feet; she wants to make her friends proud; she wants to understand why she had let you go that night in the storm.

Her eyes trail down to your lips, to the mottled scar etched into your cheek. She wonders what you’d look like without its crooked ridges marring your skin. She wonders how it would feel under her hands.

It catches you both off guard when her parted lips press against yours, teeth clacking together from the fervency of her kiss.

Her hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, though she’s not sure if she wants to pull you closer or push you away. She grunts into your mouth and slides her other hand around your waist. An unfamiliar heat licks at the base of your spine.

“I want you to thank me for letting you go,” she declares.

Seraphite leaders had spoken on end about the corrupt morals of ‘new world’ adherents, but this was not the danger you’d learned to fear. Abby was unique, addicting, and you wanted more.

You fall to your knees at her feet, almost a mirror image of the night you’d met. This time, however, you’re the one in control.

She hums and rubs the pad of her thumb over her swollen bottom lip, still wet with your spit. “That’s a good start.”

Nimble fingers work open the button of her jeans, shimmying the dark denim down her toned, freckled thighs. Her black boxers follow suit, revealing a smattering of blonde hair trailing down from her naval.

Your hands smooth over her heated skin, palming at her hips in an attempt to pull her closer. She concedes and shuffles forward until her cunt presses to your awaiting mouth and your tongue dips out to taste her.

It’s like nothing either of you have experienced – the guilt of betraying your own people, the trust that comes from such inconceivable circumstances. It’s all too much to comprehend, so you choose to ignore it for the time being.

Abby’s head tips back with a sigh, little breaths and chirps of pleasure pushed from her lungs as your tongue flattens over her clit.

It almost looks like you’re praying, Abby decides. Kneeling in front of your altar, eyes screwed shut, searching for a sign from some divine being. She cards her fingers through your hair and tugs at the roots, pulling you impossibly closer.

It’s messy, greedy, downright sinful the way you press your mouth to her. Slick coats your chin and your cheeks, glistening in the dim light streaming through the windows.

You’re spurred on by the way she tilts her hips, the wet squelch of her cunt against your mouth. Her thighs flex against the sides of your face, smothering your cheeks in her arousal.

“Ah- just like that.”

In addition to your tongue roaming everywhere you can reach, your thumb comes up to rub firm circles against her clit. After a moment, you switch positions, dragging your fingers through her slick and dipping two digits inside her.

She gasps at the intrusion and bucks her hips harshly, urging you to move faster. Your fingers curl inside her, driving into that gummy spot at the top of her walls while you suction her clit into your mouth.

“Fuck,” she pants, grinding down on your mouth. “M’gonna come.”

It’s not long before she’s shuddering through her release, choking back a poorly suppressed moan while she fights to keep her eyes open. You continue to work over her mound until she releases your hair from her grip and takes half a step back on shaky legs.

Remembering her earlier request for gratitude, you lean back on your heels and lick the remnants of her slick from your lips.

“Thank you, wolf.”

She looks down as if she’d only just remembered you were there and her eyes sparkle with renewed interest. A lazy smirk tugs at the corners of her mouth.

“You gonna stay so I can return the favor?”

#abby anderson #the last of us #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x y/n #abby x reader #abby tlou #the last of us smut #the last of us x reader #tlou #enemies to lovers #wlw smut

[abbysdolly]

୨ ℛ𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ��𝑢𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑡 ୧

˗ˏˋ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Abigail, the best soldier in w.l.f has an encounter with a Seraphite girl, her enemy. She could attack, but she didn't, why? She didn't knew but soon after everything made sense, suddenly she was Romeo.

˗ˏˋ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mature content +18, MDNI, canon violence, mentions of blood, use of a knife as a weapon, reader is referred to "the girl", reader is a Scar, death of a canon character (not Abby), enemies to lovers kinda? Let me know if I should add another thing! ౨ৎ

˗ˏˋ 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫´𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Hiii! ♡ this is the longest fic I ever wrote hehe, hope you all like this little twist I made in the story! I wrote this after a big writers block so forgive me if it's not the best! Also it isn't proofread so there could be some errors because English is not my first language >.< If you like it please like, reblog and comment! xoxo ♡

"𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝛪 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝒉𝑒𝑛 𝛪 𝑚𝑒𝑡 𝒉𝑒𝑟, 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑡𝒉𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝒉𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑒. 𝑊𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑡𝒉 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑖𝑡 𝑟𝑖𝑔𝒉𝑡 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦..."

⊹   ᳝ ࣪ ♡ ࣪   ᳝ ⊹

Her voice echoed like the sweet melody of an early bird, her eyes pleaded for help or simply just for mercy.

A now forgotten white cotton blouse viciously adorned with crimson droplets of who knows how many people, thankfully all that blood wasn't hers.

It was almost mystical how the blonde found her; soft-looking face full of dirt, hair in a beautiful mess and tears falling like cascades from her mysterious eyes, sitting in the grass with wildflowers surrounding her. Similar to the numerous injured deers she rescued with her father, a misty memory she treasured jealousy.

"Please, help me" the injured girl begged. Looking into the blonde's eyes in a desperate attempt of human empathy, innocently hoping to find some relief in another human.

The blonde inspected the injured girl, cold blue eyes searching for any sign of lies and also weapons but there was none of that, the girl's sweet voice sounded with undeniable need and her trembling hands holding her twisted ankle showed clearly that she hadn't any weapons near her.

"Are you a Scar? Why are you here if your people are miles away?" The blonde girl barked. Adrenaline still rushed through her veins, her years of training showed in the way her strong hands holded her rifle against her front, always ready to attack.

"Seraphite. And yes I am... Was, I ran away. I can't be with them anymore." The injured girl shivered as she explained to the blonde. Tears washing the dirt off of her cheeks and neck, making the blonde stare for a little too long.

"I'm not bit or armed, I just need help with my ankle. I ran almost all day and I accidentally twisted it a few hours ago. I can't stand on foot and I need to go somewhere safer" the injured girl spoke again. Her eyes drifted to the blonde's arms, to her rifle and to her piercing eyes. She wondered if her prayers were answered, and if they did she was certainly seeing her savior angel in front of her, with long golden hair and deep blue eyes like the sky at night, full of mystery.

The blonde stared and stared, her exterior looked angry and tough but in her mind she was having a whole battle. The thought of helping that girl was fighting with her "duty" that was imposed by a man who wanted just to massacre and murder people for a territory that in reality wasn't of someone in the first place.

"Please, soldier" the injured girl begged again. The blonde girl blinked as soon as she heard that soft voice again, her thoughts temporarily subsided by those teary eyes staring at her.

The blonde didn't respond, instead she just put her rifle on her shoulder and kneeled gently next to the injured girl. This was so new to her, she was the best and most deadly soldier in the QZ, she never showed mercy before. Why did she suddenly have the need to help someone? Especially one of the people she considerate the lowest of all. The blonde didn't knew but a small part of her felt powerful for doing that, she felt capable of doing more than chaos and death.

The blonde girl took a few bandages of her washed out green backpack and began to roll the thin white material around the ankle of the injured girl. She did it as gently as possible, it was almost sweet due to her big and tough appearance.

"What's your name?" The injured girl asked in a gentle whisper. She watched how carefully the blonde was and also how the blonde's features were hardened but strangely sweet and angelic, a beautiful mixture of deadly beauty and danger.

The blonde stopped her actions, surprised by the sudden curiosity of the mysterious girl. She turned her attention now to those beautiful doe eyes that magically weren't pooled with tears anymore.

"Abby" the blonde whispered back, soft and warm voice filled the cold air. She watched intently how her eyes told her many things.

"Thank you, Abby" A gentle smile appeared on the other girl's slightly chapped lips. The blonde's face mimiqued the action with a slight blush on her nose and cheeks, accentuating her freckles. Abby felt so lost, she felt that she hadn't control of her body. Those strange feelings were more than new to the blonde, she felt so different like she wasn't her anymore.

The moment went as fast as it came, in the form of hurried whistles and crushing leaves. The remaint group of Scars in that place were persistent, and they searched for the girl who was a traitor, an apostate.

"Fuck, we need to get out of this place, we're too exposed" Abby whispered hurriedly, taking her backpack and weapons with rush. She looked down at the girl on the floor, poorly trying to stand up but it was no case. Her muscles were too sore to even try to stand up.

"We can go there, that way there are some hidden cabins that the elder used as ceremony places, they're abandoned we can hide there" the mysterious girl explained. Abby wanted to think this was a lie, that it could be some sort of ambush but the other part of her brain said that she needed to believe her again.

Without a warning, the blonde lifted the girl from the ground so easily. The mysterious girl gasped at the sudden action but didn't complain, she just limited herself to cross her arms behind the blonde's broad shoulders. The air filled with tension and a certain awkwardness from both parts. Surely Abby had helped some other soldiers in patrols, even helped them to get rid of their clothes to treat their wounds but this time she didn't feel the same, she suddenly was hyper aware of her moves and how skin collided with skin.

୨ 🔨 ୧

After what it felt like an eternity, Abby and the other girl were now inside one of those ceremony cabins. Thanks to Abby the windows and door were barricaded with different wooden furniture. The abandonment evident in the rotten flowers near some sort of paint of a woman with a divine halo; The Prophet.

"They haven't come here since I can remember, it's too far from our campsite so they won't find us here" the mysterious girl explained. Her figure resting on a chair near a table as Abby stood in front of her, backpack and guns still on as she crossed her muscled arms.

Abby wasn't really proud of this situation, she always accomplished her missions, she did what she was told and not more. She got used to it after almost seven years of doing the same routine. At least that kept all those negative thoughts and anxiety on border.

The blonde's eyes didn't leaved the girl at any moment, her soldier brain told her to kill her, to get back at base and recover that sense of had "cleaned" everything, but the truth was that she felt curious about the girl, she wanted to know why she suddenly deserted. There was something about that girl that caught Abby's attention bladly.

"Why did you leave your people?" Abby asked. Her voice was husky enough to cause the other girl to squirm nervously in the chair.

"I was one of the many people taking care of the elders and children. I knew our people prepared soldiers but they only said it was just to defend our people from the Demons, until I found a letter saying we were in a war with some group of people and we needed to kill them all... even children and women, innocent people. So I ran away just in time when those people arrived to the Island" the mysterious girl explained. Her face and especially her eyes showed a deep sadness and a deeper disgust.

The explanation caught Abby out of guard, how could a Scar not know the actual state of the growing tension between Wolves and Scars? How could someone be so stupid to not know? Certainly this was a situation that Abby didn't knew how to deal with.

"I thought all your people wanted to kill everyone who weren't into your fucking religious stuff" Abby scoffed. Half smile and voice tone sarcastic as ever, the comment came almost without thinking and as the girl's eyes grew watery again she knew she fucked up, her and her sarcastic humor always finding the worst timing to appear.

"We aren't like that, at least not all of us. They just twisted her texts, If she were here all those conflicts would have disappeared" the Scar girl whispered. Her gaze relied on the worn out mural painted into the wooden wall. The image of that woman smiling so sweetly and showing both her hands made Abby want to puke, she was tired of that same image and those same stupid prayers everybody recited after their last breath.

The blonde remain in silence, opting to just sit on another chair near the window to search for any sign of Scars, Infected or Wolves. She couldn't get involved with a Scar, no, because surely Isaac would kill her before hearing a reasonable explanation.

୨ 🔨 ୧

The gloomy and freezing night came and with it, a sharp muscle pai too. Abby was beyond tired, she left the base a week ago and since then she had no real breaks, just occasional naps in abandoned buildings with her patrol group. Speaking of them, they surely were searching for her and wondering how the hell she went through "another path" in the woods.

Abby layed on the floor, unfolding a small sleeping bag out of her backpack, ready to have some sleep and hopefully forget about the pain in her back and legs.

The mysterious girl did the same, laying on the floor with nothing to keep her warm. She was squirming on the floor, trying to hug herself to feel her own body heat. Abby and the girl haven't spoken since that conversation they had a few hours ago but Abby couldn't help looking at the girl and feel pity.

"Here... Use it to keep you warm" Abby spoke as she handed her black jacket to the girl.

The girl took it with caution at first but then she just didn't care anymore, she was freezing and she needed it. She put on the jacket, this last one almost swallowing her whole frame but at least she was getting warmer.

A Scar wearing a Wolf jacket, really ironic.

"Thank you, Abby. I'll give it back to you in the morning" the girl answered as she got back down to her previous position, ready to sleep and hopefully find some peace in the events she had been through these past hours.

୨ 🔨 ୧

The night passed by as fast as a shooting star, the distant chirp of birds and warm bits of sunlight were a gentle call to wake up.

The Seraphite's eyes opened slowly, a soft groan escaped through her lips. The aftermath of all that happened yesterday in the presence of sore muscles and low energy.

She sat up, the blonde's jacket hugging her body and dipping her in a spiral of scents; Pine, dirt and a slight touch of gunpowder. Speaking of the owner, she wasn't there, no sight of her belongings, no sight of her, just that forgotten item and the bandages resting on the girl's ankle.

Anxiety built deep inside the girl's chest, she was facing the consequences of her previous acts, she was alone. A part of her mind scolded herself for thinking that Wolf would've stayed with her, for thinking with so much innocence.

Her ankle was a lot better than the day before but she wasn't sure of what to do, she survived and that was beyond her expectations. Her hands shook as they clinged to the jacket, she watched out the window but there was nothing to see, she was gone.

୨ 🔨 ୧

Those eyes, those beautiful eyes. So deep almost she could see her reflection in them, so crystal clear. Two little windows to the shiny galaxies, reflecting in a deep beauty even the most lethal human being, Abigail.

And oh her voice as sweet as a juicy peach in summer season, sweeter than the purest maple syrup in the whole world, calming like the morning breeze. Maybe all of that caused Abby to feel guilt of leaving the girl there, or maybe all of that caused something deeper and complex inside her that Abby wasn't able to understand.

"What the fuck am I doing? Shit, Abby" the blonde muttered to herself as she walked to the cabin. The outside looked the same after four days, Abby knew the girl could not be there but she tried to console herself repeating that 'there was a chance'.

"Please be there, Please be there" again, the blonde muttered. She gently knocked the door, there was a tense silence and then the door opened slowly. It was her, the girl, she had a wooden stick in her hands, something to defend herself.

"Abby?" the girl whispered. She lowered the stick and kept looking at the blonde, her wide eyes full of hope. A new found spark in them.

"Hi" the blonde smiled sincerely and continued "Are you alright? I thought you wouldn't be here, staying here is too risky" Abby's voice was shaky, she felt like a sick dog wanting to jump to the girl's bones and drag her out of that rotten cabin.

"I was going to but I was too scared to leave the cabin by myself" the girl explained as she opened the door fully. "Why are you here, Abby?" she continued, resting the stick on the table. And there was Abby's jacket, doing the same thing it did four days ago, keeping the girl warm.

"I'm giving you a chance. You'll go with me" Abby answered. Her voice was firm, she wasn't asking, she was commanding.

"What? Where? Abby, if your people see me they're gonna kill me with no hesitation!" The girl's voice was filled with desperation and fear. A Scar in a Wolf territory? Unthinkable!

"I know, I know but listen to me. I know a place, you could be safe there. I just– I can't let you here all by yourself" Abby spoke. Her jaw clenched tight, searching for the best way to say it, looking into the other girl's eyes wanting to communicate just by it.

"Why?" the girl answered. Abby blinked as soon as she heard it. Why? Why was she doing all of this?

Abby couldn't speak or think straight, her eyes searched for an answer in the worn out image of The Prophet, in the rotten flowers, in her jacket resting in the table, in the eyes of that girl.

"Because– I don't know, to lighten the load I guess. I want to do something right for the first time in ages" the blonde confessed. Her mind was still in a constant dilemma but she was sure at least that she wanted to do something different, to take a different path just like she did when she found the girl.

The girl didn't respond but her eyes never left Abby's. The blonde could feel how her eyes could read her entirely, she swore those pretty eyes could disarm her in mere seconds. Oh those eyes.

୨ 🔨 ୧

"Stay behind me, be careful and watch for any sign of infected or people. You know how to fight?" The blonde whispered. Both of them were outside the cabin.

"Just the basics I think, but don't worry about me I'll help you if we cross with Demons" the girl whispered back. Her body was framed with Abby's jacket, shaky hands holding the wooden stick and doe eyes looking at Abby. She was clearly scared and Abby knew it.

୨ 🔨 ୧

The golden light was already gone, the sound of leaves crushing with every step grew louder as the night approached. The minimum noise made Abby hold her gun tighter and point to the place where the sound came from, she was more focused than she normally was, she felt fear for the first time in so long.

Everything was quiet, oddly quiet. It had passed at least two hours and according to Abby they were really close to 'that place' she kept talking about during the walk. Everything was quiet, oddly quiet, until it wasn't.

"We are just a few minutes away from it, We can– shit! Get down!" Abby whispered hurriedly. She and the girl used an abandoned car as cover, a group of Scars were patrolling near an area full of containers.

"Fuck, we have to pass through them, it's the only way" Abby spoke again. Her gun ready, taking glances at the group of Scars from time to time "Okay, this is what we're gonna do. We're going to sneak and kill those two guys on the left and there we can cover with those containers, as for the rest leave them to me, got it?" There was that commanding Abby again, and it was fascinating to the other girl.

The girl nodded, too focused on the whole change in the blonde's demeanor. Her voice deep and firm, her eyes darker and her features getting even more sharped if that was actually possible.

Abby sneaked behind some other cars getting nearer to that area, followed closely by the girl. The tension and fear were palpable, sweaty palms holding to dear life to a gun and to a wooden stick.

The blonde nodded to the girl and in a blink she got one of the men from behind, her bicep making pressure into the man's neck and in seconds he was gone, as if his neck was a mere toothpick, so easily.

The girl watched it all, she saw how Abby ended a life like a cold war machine. How Abby killed one of "her people" and she was going to do the same, she had to do the same.

Abby did all automatically, it was the same to her. Infected or not infected, she couldn't care less but the Seraphite girl wasn't like that.

"Use this to kill that guy, I'll kill the other ones. We got this" Abby whispered. Her big hand wrapped the girl's, giving her a knife she had found somewhere and as she did this her grip was tighter, encouraging the poor and terrified girl to kill.

Everything happened so fast, Abby was gone dealing with other Scars as the girl got closer to the man, her hands shook and tears threatened to come out. Then everything went downhill.

The girl tried to grab the man from behind just like Abby but it was obviously impossible to recreate what the blonde did. The girl sneaked her arms on the man's neck trying to stab him but the man threw her away as soon as he felt her, whistling hurriedly and walking to the girl, ready to attack her.

The sudden shock of what happened made the girl act by pure instinct, she crawled to reach the knife and when she did nothing was going to be the same. The man turned her around violently and as soon as he did the girl stabbed him in the neck.

She choked a moan of disgust and fear, blood dripping from her face as well as tears. The eyes of the man lost their shine, losing the life on them as well as his body. The girl froze instantly at the realization of what happened, of what she did, she swore she wouldn't be like those who called her family before, she swore she was going to be better than them and there she was, she took a life.

As soon as Abby noticed and heard the whistles she ran, searching for the girl. She found her there on the floor with a dead Scar on top of her.

"Hey, hey– Are you okay? Fuck" the blonde breathed as she throw the dead body to the side and helped the girl to be on her feet again.

Panic, fear and disgust filled the girl's eyes, she kept crying as Abby spoke again "Hey, look at me, look at me. We need to move now, we're close" Abby's hands tried to wipe the blood out of the girl's face, guilt covering her heart once again. She knew that wasn't easy at first.

୨ 🔨 ୧

"What are you thinking? You seem a bit off since this morning" the blonde asked. The book she was reading was now closed on the table.

"Oh sorry, I just– I was thinking of when we met and all the crazy things that happened after" the girl answered. A small smile appeared on her plush lips.

The time passed faster than the girls intended. After arriving at the aquarium the bond between Abby and the Scar girl grew and grew.

Abby explained to her how that place was discovered a long time ago from one of her good friends named Owen, who soon after she awkwardly confessed that he was her romantic interest when she was younger, but after his mysterious death she had claimed the aquarium as her personal place to recover when everything was too much. The blonde also showed some pictures of her other friends, from the W.L.F too. Abby and her soon found calm in each other, a friendship blossomed from all the disgrace, death and sadness.

But nothing was that easy. The Wolves were searching for Abby as soon as the rumors ran across the FOB halls, everyone talked about how Abby betrayed them just for a Scar. Abby had to constantly go out the aquarium and kill whatever thing threatened to disturb both her and the girl, it didnn't matter if they were infected or people from both groups, Scars and Wolves. It was a miracle that the only few people that knew about the aquarium wouldn't say anything because Abby was their friend.

“Yeah,” the blonde chuckled. “Everything happened so fast. When was that? Like five months ago?” She looked at the girl and smiled. That was something she did more, smile.

“Yeah, but in those few months I've learned more than all my years in this world” the girl answered between giggles. And she was true, Abby had taught her a few self-defense things, she taught her how to use a gun and how to fight if she needed to and the girl was beyond thankful for everything.

“Well, you've learned from the best fucking soldier in Seattle” the blonde answered back. A cocky smile appeared on her face as she crossed her arms and groaned when her back touched the old couch.

“Whatever you say, Anderson!” The girl rolled her eyes at the usual antics of the blonde. She walked close to Abby, sitting on the other side of the couch, “You're such a goober” the girl whispered, looking at the blonde with a deep admiration, and other things. A warm smile on her lips.

“Hey! That's my word!” Abby gasped fakely. Another gorgeous smile appeared on her lips. She turned to the side to see the girl properly, the side of her face resting on her strong bicep just as the girl did.

Both admired each other's features, silently bathing in each other's presence. Abby and the girl developed the habit of talking with their eyes, a short look and they already knew it all.

Abby knew that this “friendship” was more than that, she felt it. After a couple of weeks after being with the girl in the aquarium she knew that the feeling in her chest wasn't just a platonic feeling, it was beyond that. Especially at night when the awful memories came back in the form of chaotic nightmares, for both of them, but the warm embraces melted every nightmare and fear.

Abby caught herself thinking about the girl when she read a classic novel or sometimes she stared too much at the girl when she was brushing her hair or was cooking. Oh and it was even more evident when a blushed Abby directed the girl's body when they were training, it was all the time and she knew the girl felt the same way she did, her flushed cheeks and shy smiles when Abby praised her for doing something correctly, or when she wrapped her arms around the blonde's torso at night.

“Thank you, Abby” the girl whispered. Her hand reached Abby's, softly running circles on her palm and there was again that soft blush on the girl's cheeks, the exact same way when Abby found her.

“Why are you thanking me?” the blonde answered. Her brows furrowed with confusion.

“For everything you gave me and you still do. And because you didn't kill me that day” the voice of the girl broke like thin glass. Abby felt a lump in her throat, glossy eyes and mouth agape at the girl’s words.

“I– You don't need to thank me. I do this because I l– because I care for you!” The blonde stuttered with her own words. Her heart beated wildly inside her strong chest, she wanted to say more but she simply couldn't.

Abby wanted to scream all her feelings, to name whatever she was feeling. But for a reason it was so hard, even when she had that teenage romance with Owen she didn't feel like this, not even a little.

Sometimes at night Abby had to wake up and go to her little bookshelf to read something to distract her mind, she even roamed the aquarium wanting to do dumb things and distract herself from the pretty image of the girl sleeping so peacefully next to her. “Damn it Abby, why did you bring the brilliant idea of asking her to sleep on the same bed?” The blonde thought, every night.

“I know, Abigail,” the girl whispered back. The hand that was touching Abby's was now gently stroking Abby's cheek. Her soft skin kissing the blonde's face, her fleckles deep and a mauve color adorning her nose and cheeks. The way the girl said “Abigail” felt so intimate, just her father called her like that and that was at least ten years ago.

The girl didn't allow Abby to react or respond, she got off the couch and smiled. The girl walked to the little room they designated to cook.

୨ 🔨 ୧

Dinner went normal, and for normal we could say just Abby being a little awkward as the girl talked about different recipe books she had found.

“Can I show you something? I know you like when I read out loud and uhm– I remembered that I wanted to read you something” the blonde spoke. She and the girl were cleaning the dinner dishes.

“Oh I would love that, Abby. Please show me” the girl answered. Her voice filled with curiosity as her eyes lit up. Abby loved seeing her like that.

“Okay, leave this for tomorrow yeah? This is important” Abby's voice showed her nervousness and all the emotions she tried to swallow deep deep down. She took the hand of the girl and dragged her to the room they had to sleep, the girl laughed softly and almost ran in contrast to the long and fast steps Abby gave.

“Abby, you're going to make me fall!” the girl said between giggles “what's something so important that you are practically making me run?” the girl spoke again. A foolish smile appeared on her face.

“Just sit here and listen to it, please. It's important to me” the blonde answered back. Her voice and stern face made the girl's smile drop in a look of concern.

Abby's hands pushed the girl's shoulders down to make her sit on the neat bed, then she took a small storage box where she kept her favorite books, classics novels that belonged to her father and she could keep them thanks to Mel, one of her friends.

“I've read this book a couple of times. I always thought it was too dramatic or corny compared to how I saw life years ago. But now it makes sense, and it feels so amazingly strange, you know?” the blonde explained. A copy of Romeo & Juliet was in between her hands as she sat on a chair in front of the girl.

The girl didn't understood too much at the beginning, surely Abby was acting a little bit strange and that made her heart beat wildly inside her chest.

And as for Abby, she was so nervous and tried to stay focused on what her heart, mind and body wanted to say.

“So the other day reading it again I felt something warm on my chest, I felt like something clicked in my head. And I needed to tell you before it's too late, listen carefully please” the blonde finally looked at the girl. The dim light of the room made the situation more intimate, as if it was just them in the whole world.

“I will, Abby,” the girl answered. Her voice as sweet as ever.

The blonde smiled with shyness but opened the book in the page she had put a paper on to remember it. And then she proceeded to read out loud, soft and velvety voice adorned the background with a sweet melody of words.

“But soft, what light through the yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Juliet is the Sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief that you, her maid, are far more fair than she. Be not her maid since she is envious. Her vestal livery is but sick and green, and none but fools do wear it. Cast it off” the blonde read it with emotion filling her chest, her voice was sweet as her gloomy blue eyes danced across the letters, her grip tight and her cheeks warm and pink.

The girl listened to Abby, focused and instantly warped around her as Abby's voice seemed to put the girl in a trance, Abby's words echoed on the girl's brain and heart.

“It is my lady. Oh it is my love. Oh, that she knew she were, she speaks, yet she says nothing: what of that? Her eye discourses; I will answer it” she paused. Looking up to the girl to see if she felt that feeling coming up from her stomach to her chest and to finally her throat. And she smiled again when she saw how the girl's eyes glowed like the pretty moonlight, like the chaotic fire. And Abby knew the girl felt the same as her.

“I am too bold. ‘Tis not to me she speaks: Two of the fairest stars in all heaven, having some business, do entreat her eyes to twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, there in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, as daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven would through the air region stream so bright that birds would sing and think it were day and not night. See how she leans her cheek upon her hand, oh that I were the glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek…” Abby read. Her cheeks got even more reddish and her gaze positioned on the girl's form, again. Nervousness eating her from the inside.

“Oh Abby,” the girl whispered. She got up from the bed and gave short little steps to be right in front of Abby, closer than before. The delicate hand of the girl took Abby's making her look up from her position in the chair, admiring the delicate and serenity in the girl's face, her dark eyes were capable of making the burning fire in the blonde's heart burn wildly.

The Seraphite girl smiled, oh that sweet smile that Abby adored a lot, and as she did so her arms instantly wrapped Abby in a tight embrace. The blonde's face rested in the girl's chest hearing the melody inside it, her fears no longer important, her feelings clearer, her heart raced with happiness and everything because of her. Her own Juliet.

“It makes sense now because I feel like Romeo, I understand him! I envy the sunlight that caresses your skin, I envy the moonlight who can make your eyes shine like stars, I–” the blonde paused her rambling. She stood up, taking in between her large hands the girl's face, and continued, “I love you” she whispered. Her face inches apart from the girl's, baby hairs framed her beautiful face as her nose gently caressed the girl's.

“I know, Abby. I always knew it because I feel just the same, you were my savior angel, and I will always be thankful for that. I love you, I love you, I love you” the girl confessed. Her own hands caressing Abby's face, bathing in the deep ocean in the blonde's eyes, her dump kissing little scars on the blonde's cheek, scars of long forgotten fights, of forgotten sadness.

Abby leaned to kiss the girl. The most precious and sweet of the kisses, lips exploring the other ones with such passion and love. A first kiss that told more than all the romantic novels in Abby's bookshelf, calm after the storm, igniting fire building on their bodies.

Thank you for reading! Any like, reblog or comment are really appreciated, have a good day/night and don´t forget to drink water! love ya! ♡

#ೀ › 𝓼𝓪𝓲𝓪 𝓲𝓼... 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 ! ·˚ ༘₊· #♡ › 𝓽𝓸: 𝓪𝓫𝓫𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷 #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou2 #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson x fem reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson fic #abby anderson edit #abby anderson headcanons #tlou 2 abby #abby x reader #the last of us abby #abby x fem!reader #wlw #sapphic #wlw fanfic

[burnednotburied]

You're My People

AO3 Link

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Synopsis: You and Abby take refuge in an abandoned house to catch your breath and attempt to recover after the encounter with Ellie in the theater.

Tags: slight angst; hurt/comfort; mentions of death and blood; tending to injuries; (mostly) unspoken romantic feelings; reader is a young woman (same age as Abby)

Note: To be absolutely 100% clear, the reader is NOT meant to be Lev or Yara. Reader is a woman (about the same age as Abby) who met Abby on Seattle Day 1 when she was also meeting Lev and Yara. The four of them stuck together. None of this is super relevant for this story. (Just know that Yara was with them, but she was killed just as she was in the game, and Lev is around here somewhere.)

I have a lot of ideas for this character/storyline. It’s likely that I will continue to flesh things out in future fics, so I’ll leave the rest of the story to be explained later.

I put reader in many of the same scenarios as Lev was in the game, sometimes removing Lev altogether for the sake of the story. But reader obviously has a very different type of relationship with Abby than Lev ever would (or should) have.

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“Don’t ever let me see you again.”

That’s what Abby had said to that girl – Ellie – before walking away without so much as a backwards glance.

You had quietly followed Abby out of the theater, because what else could you do, but you didn’t know how you were supposed to feel about what you just saw.

Watching Abby incapacitate one man and shoot another in the face without hesitating. Seeing her beat Ellie into the floor while she lay there motionless.

And the other woman. The one who was pregnant…

“Good,” Abby had seethed when Ellie told her. She almost seemed happy about it. Happy to repay the wrong that was done to Mel. An eye for an eye. A life for a life.

If you hadn’t called out Abby’s name when you did, dragging her from the haze that was her desire for retribution…

Well, you could guess what would’ve happened.

You were just glad the two of you had decided not to bring Lev with you. That he was somewhere safe.

Neither of you spoke a word as you navigated through the dark streets of Seattle, her leading the way with you following quietly behind, just as you had been doing since you met. Although now you may have allowed for a bit more space between the two of you than you did before, trailing further behind. Lost in thought.

It had been three days since you met, but it felt like so much longer. A nagging voice in your head insisted that you really didn’t know Abby very well, despite how it felt.

She hadn’t given you any reason not to trust her. She had never hurt you. In fact, she had fought so hard to keep you and (more importantly) Lev and Yara safe. She had even turned against her own people, killed her own people, for the sake of protecting you.

No, that wasn’t right.

Those weren’t Abby’s people anymore.

“You’re my people.”

Abby had looked so earnest when she said it back on the Seraphite island just hours before. And you had believed her.

The words left you with a feeling deep in your chest that was hard to describe. You thought it might’ve been… belonging. Something you’d been hoping for but never found. You’d always wanted to truly belong to something.

Or someone.

There hadn’t been any time to dwell on the feelings or what they meant.

And now all you feel is a pit in your stomach.

Why were you so shaken up? This is stupid. You’ve killed before, and you’ve watched Abby kill.

But this felt different. It wasn’t self-defense. It wasn’t necessary. It was dark and angry and honestly terrifying. She was honestly terrifying.

But it was justified, wasn’t it? You could argue that maybe it was necessary.

Ellie had been hunting Abby for days, killing her friends and seemingly anything else in her path.

Ellie killed Owen.

You weren’t sure of the exact history between him and Abby, but you did know how important he was to her. And you had seen the look on her face when she found him dead.

Who’s to say Ellie would’ve ever stopped coming after Abby and the people close to her? Who’s to say she’ll even stop now?

You’re just beginning to arrange your fractured, contradicting thoughts in a way that makes sense when Abby comes to a sudden stop in front of you. You would’ve run into her if she hadn’t stretched her hand out behind her in warning.

“We need to stop. Get out of the rain. Regroup.” Her voice is strained.

You hadn’t really even noticed that it started raining again, harder this time, but you can walk in the rain. Lev is alone, waiting for the two of you to return.

You open your mouth to protest, only to shut it again when Abby turns to face you fully. She’s balancing her weight unevenly, heavily favoring her right leg. A significant bloodstain runs all the way down to her left ankle. And her face…  

The pregnant girl had come from nowhere, attacking Abby from behind. She managed to slash across Abby’s cheek with a knife before you took her down with an arrow through the shoulder. It had been your only real contribution to the fighting in the theater, but it had been unavoidable. Abby had been in danger.

Now she’s standing in front of you, soaked from head to toe, from the rain and with blood, and you have no idea how much of that blood is hers, but there are definitely some significant injuries that need to be tended to.

Abby takes in your silence and your wide-eyed stare for a moment before shifting a little in place and clearing her throat. “Um… we can try in there. Yeah? The houses here should all be deserted.” She gestures weakly to the building closest to you.

You finally find your voice. “Yes, yeah. Let’s—let’s go in there.”

You pull your gaze away from Abby’s and walk past her, toward the small house, pulling your bow from where it rests over your shoulder and notching an arrow in the string. It suddenly occurs to you that you’ve walked all this way without your weapon drawn while Abby was injured and unarmed. For a moment, you’re glad that the Wolves and the Seraphites are too distracted fighting each other elsewhere to be roaming around in this area. Or else you and Abby would probably have been killed by now, both of you practically stumbling through the streets like a couple of vulnerable, mindless children.

You shake your head, silently scolding yourself and promising to be more alert, starting right now with sweeping the house.

The front door is mostly intact and slightly ajar. You approach carefully, painstakingly forcing it further open with your shoulder, fighting against rusted hinges and warped wood. The floorboards creak beneath your boots as you step inside, quickly scanning the entryway for anything or anyone that poses a threat. Abby follows behind you, trying not to visibly limp on her injured leg and holding up a small flashlight taken from the aquarium.

“Come on. You need to sit down,” you say over your shoulder, just loud enough to be heard over the pouring rain outside. For a moment, it looks like she might argue with you, maybe insist that she make sure the building’s clear first, but she seems to decide against it, giving you a quick nod of her head in response.

With your bow still drawn, you lead the way through the first floor of the building, passing a bathroom and a kitchen before arriving in what was once the living room. The room is filled with furniture in various levels of destruction and decay, somehow the most well-preserved among them being an old couch pressed against the back wall.

You point to it. “Sit,” you tell Abby. The fact that she listens and moves toward the couch without protest, albeit very slowly, is further proof of the extent of her injuries and her level of exhaustion. “I’m going to check the rest of the house, okay? I’ll be back. Don’t move.”

Abby lets out a scoff, immediately followed by a second, more pained noise. “I couldn’t go anywhere if I wanted to.” An attempt at a joke, made through gritted teeth. You give her a hesitant, worried look, long enough that she forces a small smile and attempts to reassure you with, “I’m fine. Go.”

She’s lying and you know that, but you don’t have much of a choice. You turn to go quickly search the house.

The second floor is clear of any discernible threats but also of anything that would be useful in helping Abby. On your way back to the living room, you rummage through the downstairs bathroom and a couple of mostly empty coat closets in hopes of finding something. Medical supplies. Even clean cloths.

You find nothing there and move on to your last hope, the kitchen. This room is even more ransacked than the rest of the house, and still, you don’t find what you’re looking for.

“Ugh,” you loudly groan, clasping your hands together on the back of your neck and casting your gaze upward in frustration.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Abby quickly asks from the other room, sounding ready to jump up off the couch and rush to your rescue even in her current condition. It makes you smile until you remember that this is no time to be smiling.

“It’s nothing. The house is clear. I was just looking for some medical supplies.”

“Who needs medical supplies?” she asks, trying her hand at a second joke. This time you let yourself smile for just a second.

“You do, Abby,” you say, “You need medical supplies. Urgently.” You’re still staring up like the answer will be written up there if you just look hard enough, when something in the space between the one of the top cabinets and the ceiling catches your eye. If you’re not mistaken, it looks like the corner of a first aid kit.

It’s too high for you to reach standing, and there’s nothing for you to stand on top of. The countertops are broken, the pieces scattered across the room, and the wood of the lower cabinets is rickety and unstable at best.

You’re grumbling under your breath about damn high ceilings and unnaturally tall cabinets as you reenter the living room to find Abby almost exactly where you left her, left leg now up on the couch and elevated, right foot still on the floor. Both of her hands are hovering over the gash in her thigh, like she’s not sure if she should touch it or not, her face tense and focused. She’s in pain.

You pull your eyes away and look for something sturdy enough for you to stand on, eventually deciding on a mostly intact, only slight wobbly small metal table.

“Do you really think now is the best time to rearrange the furniture, honey?” Abby asks, glancing at you in her periphery. She’s joking again, and you know that, but you can’t help the warmth that pools in your cheeks at her use of the affectionate pet-name.

“I--“ You clear your throat, “I need something to stand on. I think I found something in the kitchen.”

“Aww, you can’t reach the top shelf by yourself?” Abby asks, amused. She turns her attention from her leg to watch as you drag the table out of the room. It squeaks along the floor the entire way, making her laugh softly.

 The fact that she’s being playful with you starts to ease your lingering panic about her many ailments. If she’s cracking jokes, she can’t be that close to dying, right?

“Crazy how you’ve lost like half your blood supply, and yet you still have enough energy to tease me,” you say, your own teeth gritted now. The table is much heavier than you anticipated. “And, for your information, the thing that I’m trying to get is not on the top shelf. It is above the top shelf. On top of the cabinet.”

“Uh huh. Sure… Take your time. I’m just over here, casually bleeding out.”

“Well, I’m no doctor. But I’m pretty sure that if the knife had hit any major arteries, you would’ve bled out a long time ago. So you’ll be fine for another minute. Probably.” With one final shove, you manage to get the table where you want it.

You carefully step up on the table, hoping that some sadistic asshole didn’t throw an empty first aid kit all the way up there just to waste the time and energy of some poor, desperate fool in need of medical supplies. (You, of course, being that poor desperate fool.)

After brushing off a thick layer of dust, you grab the handle. The kit is full.

“Yes!” you shout, nearly stumbling off the table in your excitement.

Abby can tease you all she wants and try to make light of the situation, but she can’t hide the look of relief that washes over her features when she sees what you’re carrying.

And, if you were paying closer attention to her face, she also wouldn’t have been able to mask the way her eyes go wide and her cheek – the one that’s not covered in blood – gets visibly pink when you get on your knees in front of her. “Uhhh hey, you can—you can sit on the couch.”

You raise your eyebrows, confused by her sudden nervousness. “No, the angle will be better this way,” you insist. “Just bring your leg over here.” She concedes, avoiding eye contact as you help her maneuver her injured leg so that her foot is back on the floor, practically between your knees.

There’s already a tear in her pant leg where the gash is. So to avoid having Abby stand up and take her pants off or cutting all the way around at mid-thigh, leaving her with half a pair of pants for the foreseeable future, you opt to just rip the fabric a little more on either side of the tear.

But you have a bad habit of occasionally thinking about something and then doing it, forgetting the often necessary in-between step of alerting the people around you to what you’re going to do first. You take the already-ripped fabric of her pants in your hands and tear, successfully making a hole large enough for you to properly clean and dress the wound.

The sound Abby makes when you do this surprises you. It’s almost sounds like a whimper—a noise that you don’t think you’ve ever heard her make before. There’s a twisting heat in your gut that seems to be a recurring side effect of being close to Abby, which you choose to ignore in favor of focusing on the more urgent (and honestly less daunting and less complicated) task at hand.

She’s quiet as you get to work cleaning the gash. Wincing slightly but remaining still.

The cut is deep, but as you expected it missed the femoral artery. You would have to stitch it up, though, and you told Abby as such. She nodded and watched you carefully as you quickly prepared, hoping to get this part over with as quickly as possible.

You moved even closer to her. Abby’s shin gently pressed against your front as you leaned over her knee, bringing your face closer, your movements precise and intentional.

Abby brings her hands down on either side of her legs, bracing herself. Her shoulders tense, muscles engaged. You have to tear your eyes away. Focus. You look back down at her thigh.

As you work, a strand of your hair falls from where you had tucked it behind your ear and into your face. You let out a light, annoyed huff. Before you attempt to blow the strand out of your eyeline, Abby’s fingers gently brush it back behind your ear. You feel yourself blush deeply, saying a quiet thank you before going back to sewing her up.

When the last stitch is done and you’ve carefully wrapped the wound, you feel Abby’s fingers run through your hair again, this time for no other reason but to draw your eyes up to meet hers.

“Come up here,” she says, her voice low. You stand, bringing the first aid kit with you, and feel the springs in the cushions creak beneath you as you sit on the couch, facing her, closer than is probably necessary. Before either one of you says anything else, you begin gently wiping away the blood surrounding the cut on her cheek, cleaning around the wound.

It's clear to you now that her wounds weren’t quite as detrimental as you had feared. With her leg sown up, her face was the only other thing that required your attention. Most everything else was superficial and would heal on its own. The rain had done a poor job of washing away all the blood, but it seems that much less of that blood had come from her than you had anticipated anyway.

“I can do that,” Abby says in a whisper, watching your face as you carefully and meticulously clean hers.

“I know,” you reply, just as quiet. “I want to.”

A few moments go by in silence until Abby once again breaks it.

“I’m sorry about tonight,” she begins, quickly adding, “Not sorry that I did it, but sorry that you had to… see me that way.” Her eyes are downcast. You know it’s weighing on her. Not just everything that happened today, but the fear that what happened could have a lasting effect on this thing you two have only just started to build. Call it trust or friendship or maybe something else entirely.

You shake your head. “Don’t apologize. I’m glad I was there. You shouldn’t have had to do that alone.” Abby nods, but you know it doesn’t do much to assuage her worries.

You still don’t understand what happened back in the theater. Or why it happened. Part of you wants to ask for the history now. How she knows Ellie. Why she wants Abby dead.

Maybe in time she will tell you, but you’ve already decided to trust her. To lean into whatever this thing between you is, and whatever it might become.

So instead, you ask another question that’s been in the back of your mind.

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” You pull your hand away from her face, finished cleaning the cut there. It may form a scar, but it doesn’t seem deep enough to warrant stitches. (And you’re not brave enough to try, on her lovely face so close to her eye.)

Abby smiles softly, leaning forward just a bit to bring your faces closer together. “You’re going to have to be more specific, honey.”

That pet-name again. It makes your head spin. Makes you want to close the already shrinking distance between you and press your lips to hers. But you don’t do that. Instead, you explain, “On the island. When you said that… I’m your people.” You pause, hesitating over the last few words.

Abby stops for a moment, almost looking confused, and you start to spiral internally. You realize that it was probably just something she said in the heat of the moment. To calm you down and get you to keep moving, towards safety. You wish you could take your question back, retract your stupid words. Swallow them up and hide them inside you, along with your ever-growing feelings.

Abby finally answers. “Yeah. Of course I meant it. You’re my people.”

“Yeah?” You break out into a grin.

She nods, smiling and sincere. “Yeah.”

It’s that one, small word that makes you close the distance between you. Not to kiss her, but to gently rest your forehead against hers. Abby seems stunned, like maybe she was expecting the other thing, or hoping for it, but she recovers quickly, closing her eyes and maintaining the physical contact. You close your eyes too.

“You’re my people too, Abigail Anderson.” You can feel her laugh quietly and open your eyes, pulling away just enough to see her face again. “So… where do we go from here?”

“Santa Barbara, California,” she says. You remember overhearing part of a conversation about that between Abby and Owen yesterday. You figured that’s where she would be heading; you had just hoped to be given the chance to tag along. But you guess you didn’t have to worry about that anymore.

So you nod your head thoughtfully. “Sounds good… Sunny.”

“Hmm, yeah. That’s what I hear.” You’re both smiling. Happy, strangely enough, given the circumstances.

“Abby…”

“Hmmm?”

“We are going back to get Lev before we leave though, right?”

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Note: If you read all of that, THANK YOU! This is the first fanfic I’ve written—and the first time I’ve written at all in a long time—so this is me dipping my toes in the water.

It definitely ended up being a lot longer and a lot less spicy than I anticipated, but I wrote what came naturally. I hope to continue this storyline, likely backtracking to when Abby and reader met, so we’ll be seeing more of these two. We’ll get to the fun stuff eventually!

#abby anderson #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fic #abby anderson angst

[urcursebreaker]

burning body waiting. (ellie williams x fem!reader)

read chapters one, two, and three here.

warnings: 18+ content, canon-typical violence, gore, angst, graphic smut, scissoring, fingering, use of marijuana. | word count: 11.7k.

chapter 4: match in the dark

❝ the gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it. ❞ — richard siken.

. . .

The stories always say that love is something you fall into.

For you, it's always been a bludgeoning, throttling force, bone-shattering and breath-robbing; sudden and violent and jarring.

So why does this feel not like a punch to the gut but a slow and tortuous ailment of your health? An intrusion of sickness and vein-pulsing agony?

Instead of pummeling you with a lethal blow, your feelings for Ellie crept and slunk through your bones, a terminal parasite, malignant and festering inside. Until it was a sure thing. A cancer. Until your veins were blackened with heady need. Until there was a dark, frothing plague teeming from your heart, hammering to a consistent tune.

Ellie, Ellie, Ellie.

Or maybe you don't love her.

Maybe it's some third sinister thing. Living in the cracks of cruelty that stretch between friend and lover.

Last night, after baring witness to Ellie's breakdown, the sound of her wailing, heaving sobs followed you into a tenuous sleep.

You dreamt of a young girl, a smattering of freckles garnishing her sun-kissed face and arms, familiar, mossy blue eyes brimming with unshed tears. She clutched a watch in her fist, it's face splintered, cracks like lightening fracturing across the broken surface. She lurched it into the rapid waters of the river she stood before, her eyebrows pinched in earnest, chest heaving.

"Why are you so sad?" You had asked the girl, your voice a whisper in the wind, not fully belonging to you.

The girl only released a long, heavy breath and pivoted away, marching down an unmanicured path of ferns and overgrowth. She grew taller and leaner as she strode away, until the figure that dissipated through the line of trees was one you have slept beside. 

And now you are woken up in that damn 7/11 to that same girl firmly shaking you.

Except now she's older— and a new scar marred her lip. A new slit cleaved her brow. And a new, harsh edge of ferocity contoured her face— still so young, in a world that would never allow her to be.

She had to shake you a few times before you came to, snapping awake in a bleated panic, lurching up. She was huddled over you, a finger to her lips, a solemn alarm flaring in her pale eyes. The overhead vines careening from the high rafters billowed gently with the breeze; the serenity of it deceiving to what prowled the weeds.

"To the left," she mouths meticulously, and you nod, carefully slipping out of your sleeping bag, heart drumming ceaselessly.

She unsheathes her switchblade and slinks away, her eyes trained on the glassless wall as she stations behind a counter, distractedly gesturing for you to follow.

You slowly retrieve your shotgun from the littered floor and pocket a shiv you crafted the night prior, shooting brisk glances over your shoulder as you inch to Ellie's side. A faint whistle rises from the swaying grass.

Fuck. More Seraphites.

They must be tracking you, if they're spreading this far into Seattle. They tend to lurk on the outskirts, basing along the edges of the city so they can terminate anyone who attempts to get inside.

You never heard of them abandoning posts before. Killing over a dozen of them must have earned you their vengeance.

Ellie must have a similar thought, for when you reach her side, she whispers, "I should have gone to their base and killed every last one of them." Her face was grim and hard with fury, jaw barred, as she glared over the counter in the general direction of the whistle.

You follow her gaze and your muscles tense. The piercing afternoon sun glints off the metal tip of an arrow— aimed directly at you.

"Get down!" You shout jitterly, just as the potent snap of the bows tension unleashing splits through the silence of the day. You shove Ellie down and duck over her right as it spears loudly through the chipping wall behind you, where her head had been precarious seconds before.

She looks up at you with wide eyes, her knuckles gleaming white against the shine of her blade. Her momentary shock morphs into a scowl that manifests on her face.

She shrugs her shotgun off her shoulder and aims it for the weeds— blasting through the first outline of a human that she sees without a second thought. Thickets of seared, chunky blood burst through the air, followed by a series of sharp, undulating whistles. Your ears ring boisterously from the gunshot.

You sense movement to your right and crawl past Ellie— who clips another Seraphite, her body rocking with the force of the shot— to investigate. Fortunately, your backs are covered by two withstanding, cavernless walls, leaving only the hole to the right and the sizeable gap overhead.

Ellie seems to have the other wall covered.

You use a rusting shelf as a barricade, crouching, shiv in hand, the blade biting through the cloth you wound around the bottom. You turn it over in your hands, tongue prodding your lip, casting furtive looks above you every couple seconds to ensure nobody inflicted an unexpected aerial attack.

Arrows rain down, piercing the walls, clattering off the concrete. Gunshots boom thunderously, reverberating through the vacant city, paired with the guttural screams of those they met. You chance a peek at Ellie to find her completely unscathed, propped on one knee, squinting through the thick scope of her rifle. She must've swiftly exchanged weapons while you were looking away; always efficient.

You swivel back around and feel the tiny hairs on the nape of your neck raise at the shaved head poking through the whirling canary, only about ten feet away. You hold your breath and flush your back with the shelf, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

He slithers into the room, bow drawn, frame veiled by a cloak seeped with rain water. Brutal, discomfiting burn scars eclipse half of his face, as if he were lowered, sideways, into a pit of roaring flames.

Back at the Front, everyone always refers to the Seraphite's as Scars. It's starting to make sense why; you had never seen one this close before.

He puckers his lips to whistle, and you deign that as your opportunity, before he summons another Scar. You spring out from behind the shelf and drill your blade through the side of his neck, tearing through tendons. "Gotcha!" you breathe sardonically.

His large body crumples in your arms. You lower him to the floor with a dull, sappy thud, blood instantly pooling across the concrete, lapping at the tips of your boots.

An insistent whistle echoes closely from the weeds he emerged from, and you mutter a curse, hoisting up your gun and loading it with bloodied fingers. You're about to shoot the nearing figure when a brutish man descends from the crater in the ceiling— landing on top of you.

"Fuck!" Your scream of raw surprise rips through your throat as you plummet under his weight, your arm twisted unnaturally and agonizingly beneath his body.

He yanks you back by your hair, peeling your body off the ground with ease, and you wrestle with his unyielding grip, grunting as you squirm and peer at him over your shoulder. His eyes are crazed, a deep, rigid scar splitting his cheek, fatal determination overtaking his face.

You think fast, hastily fumbling for the blade in his companions sputtering throat, writhing under his formidable hold, your breathing sparse as he crushes you. "Feel Her love," the man growls in an accented drawl, his pick-axe reered back, poised to strike.

You successfully dislodge your blade just in time.

You arch your arm back as forcefully as you can from the obstructive angle, nicking him in the chest— just enough for him to stagger back and graze his digits over the superficial wound— and for you to crawl out from underneath him.

You only make it up to your knees before the handle of his pick-axe is caging your throat, crushing your windpipes, a hoarse whine wheezing from your lips. He hauls you back, and you flail for the bar compressing your neck, feet aimlessly lashing and kicking the floor. "El—"

Dots swim and flood your vision. Your flickering pulse rattles droningly in your skull. You can't breathe. You're dying. You're going to die. You're going to—

"Don't you fucking touch her!" Ellie bellows.

Suddenly, the pick-axe falls from your throat, clattering with a resounding echo to the floor, and you drop right along with it. Through the haze of your disjointed vision you see the previous keeper of your fate— Ellie's switchblade protruding from his head, before he slams lifelessly to the floor.

You rake in breaths hungrily, the sudden, painful burst of oxygen blazing like fire through your lungs. You claw listlessly at your throat, as if that will stop the blistering burn, or vanquish the coppery tang of blood rendering your tongue.

Ellie then shoots his already deceased body twice— his immobile carcass lurching, jolting with the swift bullets— and doesn't spare the dead Scar a second glance before shooting the one approaching in the weeds with masterful precision.

He thumps to the ground with a muffled groan of anguish, and his departure is followed by a wave of dense, apprehensive silence.

Ellie lingers in that taut, defensive stance for a moment, her shoulders tense, face lined with concentration as she sweeps her gaze over the sprawling field. Eyes skittering over the towering buildings in a speedy examination.

And then her eyes fall to you, alarm leeching the color from her sharp face. She quickly lowers her gun and bunches her stiff shoulders. "Are you alright?" She demands brusquely.

You nod skittishly, chest heaving with your rapid, hungry breaths. "Fine," you croak out, voice hoarse and gravelly, scraping out of your raw throat.

She nods absently, slinging her gun over her shoulder and bending down to fist the knife puncturing the man's head. She gives it a forceful, ruthless tug, his upper body heaving off the blood-blemished ground. A harrowing crimson cascades down his skull, glistening over her fingers. She yanks it out of him with a second, ardent jerk, and he slumps onto the floor, his own gore splattering repellently through the air. She surveys the blood and bits of cartilage on her blade before calmly wiping it off on her pants.

You scarcely register the disturbing scene of the Seraphite's you downed together.

Ellie's callousness must be wearing off on you. The dark pond of sudsy blood gathering around your feet ignites only a faint ripple of disgust in you; and a hint of knee-buckling relief, that you had someone so unapologetically cutthroat at your defense.

She offers you a steady hand and you take it. She hauls you to your feet, and you waver, your grip unabashed and bruise inciting. "Are you okay?" You ask attentively, a tremor underlying your tinny voice as you eye her top to bottom.

On the exterior, she's untouched by harm, and the relief that floods you is instantaneous.

"I am if you are," she says with a dim smile, surveying you for injury in turn. "We should get the fuck out of here, though. You sure you're good?"

"I'm fine," you offer a meek, hopefully reassuring smile back, unhanding her. You clear your throat and discard your broken, useless shiv on the floor, your breathing evening out. "Lead the way, my noble Knight," you tease with a shaky grin.

She rolls her eyes with affection and mimics a flourishing bow. "Yes, my Queen," she snorts, before pivoting away, heedlessly overstepping the dead body of your attacker and trudging for the opening she'd been guarding, her backpack already slung over her shoulder.

Your scratchy, cackling laugh scorches your throat, but you stifle the dizzying pain, her responding laugh, breathy and chittering, making the hurt worth it.

It was the sweetest thing you have ever heard. So light and natural and opposing to the violence she had wielded mere minutes ago to protect you.

As you trail after her, trusting her direction without question, you think you'd let her be as mean to you as she needed to be if you could hear her laugh like that again.

Which may be the scariest thing of all.

• • •

ELLIE

Her resolve was dissipating through her fingers. Now particles, everything she fought for was reduced to inconceivable dust, streaking through the wind, escaping her clutches.

She had destroyed versions of herself, tapered off past selves, trimmed and manufactured herself into this precarious thing that she was now.

A shell, filled by a need to take back all that had been stolen; a vessel for her grief and anger. She felt like she lived and breathed the horror that clung to her insides, fermented and congealed, taloned rage clawing it's way out of her with every step she took closer and closer to reclaiming the vengeance she was owed; the debt that was due.

But now the calamity in her mind has quieted. Her pain felt distant and hushed; it watched and whispered. She was never truly liberated from it. Only when she's with you does she feel that boulder lift, that bone-crushing mass of misery eased off her soul. But it's hearty weight lingers phantomly, etching itself into her bones.

She glances at you through the waning firelight, your thoughtful expression dim in the flickering amber glow. Your eyebrows are skewered, lips pursed, eyes indulgently roving over the pages of the tattered book splayed across your lap.

She had no idea how you found the room to store useless objects. From your brothers stuffed childhood bear, a chunky, faded hot-pink cassette player, to a couple weathered, worm-eaten books, you seemed to carry only your indulgences.

When she was fourteen, her backpack was similar. It overflowed with graphic novels and worthless trinkets. Joel had everything they needed, carrying double his weight in supplies. Despite everything she'd seen, despite everything he did, he gave her a simple life. One she could not envision herself pursuing ever again, without him there to urge her on.

She wonders if your brother was that guiding light for you, too, a match in the dark, as Joel had been for her.

She looks at you, and she wonders if you have ever truly been alone.

You perform with a buoyancy and easiness she cannot replicate. Either you have never known suffering at all, a portrait of innocence under a brush of death; or you knew it too well, with an intimacy that left you unblinking and acclimated to its sharp edges. When it tried to cut through you, it's relentless knifing was fruitless, it's slashes meeting metal, sliding off the shine of your armor.

Do you even know it's there? That even though you are not brutal and unforgiving— as she herself had become— remaining steady and balanced under the ruthless beat of the worlds bitter drum was a shield in itself?

She both admires and envies your ability to let it all roll off your back as it's hurled at you.

"What?" You drawl at her notably indiscreet examination, amusement seeping into your tone like liquid gold, eyes unstraying from the pages— though she can see, even from the distance that separates you, that your eyes are bright and swimming with it.

For months now, she has locked her feelings down, imprisoned them behind walls of adamant, impenetrable steel. Had deliberately tailored a mask that would keep them from slipping through.

And then there's you. Feeling unabashedly and unapologetically and, unknowingly letting her know she can do it, too. That you see the wounds that gauge her soul and do not flinch at the sight of blood. That you see the hurt that shines in her eyes and do not pity the tortured girl, but embrace the wrath of the killer that torture had birthed.

Being understood was once something she ached for. But now that someone is starting to understand her, to see through the defenses she constructed, she is afraid. She is terrified of being seen, of being known.

Almost as much as she fears being alone.

She is facing that fear day by day, and it is just as fucking scary as she anticipated.

She was cripplingly alone, and she felt the aftershocks of it belting through her. She's a lost, untethered soul, searching for its other end, though the thread had severed and all that remained was remnants of fragmented, disjointed memories, and rippling regrets that would never be ironed out.

She has nothing to return to; no home, no person. Instead, she keeps coming back to that hollowness inside, where the grief is stored, and fed to the flames of rage that blaze there. It is the only consistency she knows now. Even you are not a promised thing. Not when you had a brother somewhere out there waiting for you.

And not when she had a list of lives to end.

You are not enough to mend the gaping hole inside of her; you will never match the shape of that gauge. No one will. No one can replace the things he taught her, gave her.

But at least now... when she lays her head to rest, there's a beaming voice, illuminating the shadow-shrouded void of her mind. Beckoning her toward the light.

And it's yours.

She fights the darkness. Wrestles out of its restraints— the guilt and sorrow that anchors her down— and runs to that voice, desperate for the sun.

But the darkness always seems to win in the end.

"Ellie?"

Your soft, tentative voice lulls her out of her clouded thoughts, and she averts her gaze from the fire to look at you. She blinks the dark specks away and discerns your earnest face. Your attention is honed in on her now, the book dog-eared and closed in your lap, head tilted inquisitively. "Where'd you go?" You ask quietly, your voice a whisper under the crackling embers.

She feels her head shaking before she even forms a response. "Nothing. Nowhere," she insists, blinking rapidly, stroking a spectral scar on her forehead. "I'm just tired. How's your book?" She urges casually, craning her head back and resting it on the tree stump of the sprawling oak behind her, studying you.

A big, unadulterated grin contorts your face. Your cheeks dimple, smiling teeth luminous in the firelight. Her heart skips a beat at the mirth glimmering in your eyes. "So good. It's my favorite. I've read it six times," you chuckle at the look of disbelief that slips through the cracks of her facade and continue, "My mom used to read it to my brother and I a lot when we were kids."

She nods, plucking the grime out of her fingernails, swiping her tongue over her teeth. She glances down at her hand to conceal the warmth rising to her cheeks at the sight of your infectious smile. There is no other way to describe it; it is debilitating, impossible not to mirror.

"What's it about?" She murmurs, ducking her head, her emerging smile evident in her tone. She hopes the shadows eclipse her face from your view.

"Oh, it's just a collection of fables," you sigh contently, wistfully, reclining back, clutching the fraying book endearingly to your chest. You sway your knees back and forth, feet planted to the ground, peering up at the star-speckled sky before tilting your head to face her. "Do you like to read at all?"

Ellie yawns gingerly, extending her legs out in front of her, staring down at her muddy, threadbare Converse. "I used to read comics. There was this series I collected... Savage Starlight?" She winces as she pronounces the humiliating name.

Your responding gasp is so sudden, an animal audibly skitters through the weeds. You lurch up in astonishment, wisps of staticky hair fanning around your shocked face. "Wait, really? My brother loved those!"

Ellie laughs, and you visibly loosen at the sound. She pretends not to notice. Just as she pretends not to feel the warmth budding and blooming in her chest, a sprout of something gentle taking root in her heart.

"Yes," she huffs out, rewarding you a vague smile. You were the only thing that made her feel like she could smile anymore. "I read them all. Probably more than 6 times, actually. So. I got you beat."

"Pfft," you bat a hand of dismissal, rolling your eyes playfully, laying back down— resting your head on a smooth, upturned rock, leisurely prying your book back open. "Does looking at pictures even count as reading?"

"Comics have words!" Ellie protests defensively, straightening.

Your boisterous laugh echoes through the dense forestry, booming out of you, as you drop the book and cradle your stomach, rolling over with the force of your guttural laughter. "You are so easy to rile up!" You cackle tearily, wiping your eyes.

Ellie snickers. "You're an ass," she chides, laughter bubbling in her chest, threatening to escape her sealed lips. She threads her fingers through her unruly hair, sweeping the russet strands out of her face. You jeeringly stick your tongue out at her, and she flips you off, earning her another one of your exuberant laughs.

"Read your book," she scolds with a raspy chuckle of her own, pointing at the now discarded fables. She rummages through her backpack, the sound of your stifled giggling following her as she fishes out her journal.

She waits a couple minutes, until you're helplessly engrossed with your novel, your brows once again pinched in concentration, before thumbing through her journal, flipping to that tarnished, browning page. Her eyes flicker over the names she memorized distastefully, that familiar anger burning bright.

Abby

Nora

Owen

Mel

Jordan

Manny

Whitney

She absently ghosts her fingers over that taunting, four-lettered name. Abby. Her throat swells with grief, searing-hot anger boiling in her stomach. The condemning red marks slashing through the names of those she already killed grant her only momentary satisfaction. It's not enough to quell the hatred the unmarked name at the top sparks within.

Nora she killed weeks ago. She let the spores smother her lungs, debilitate her of breath, ring her dry of any vitality and will to resist her tragic fate. Then she took a pipe to her head. Over and over. Just as Abby had done to Joel. Just as she would do to her.

Then she killed Nick, and Jordan, after the Wolves tailed and captured her. They beat and chained her to a counter, as if a pair of copper-rusted handcuffs would restrain her— would save them from her blinding wrath. The scar she brandished him with was rigid and pink and poorly stitched, dismantling his otherwise smooth cheek. She told him that stopping her from extracting her revenge would be futile.

Then she broke free and stabbed him persistently, with ferocious, vehement arches of her arm, until his blood had coated her face in fine beadlets and puddled in heaps that sapped her feet to the floor.

And, most recently, she killed Whitney. At the hospital, where she took you to bed and tasted every glorious inch of you, high with adrenaline, pulsating with want.

She told you she took out a few infected.

But it was only Whitney there, alone, guarding the sewage system, swaying to the boisterous music that reverberated through the concrete-walled boiler room. She slit her throat and kicked her into the murky, sludgy water. Then shot her twice just to insure that she did not inexplicably survive.

After the night you shared, a part of her was horrified of you unveiling the deplorable, merciless acts she committed. She did not know if she could face you. She slaughtered a person in cold blood and touched you with the stained hands that did it.

She left, just in case you found that bleeding body floating in the basement, and turned terrified, accusatory eyes on her. She did not know if she could bear your disdain. Or worse— you being disgusted by the harrowing life she has dedicated herself to.

Because she could not change.

She has a purpose, now.

To take everything from those fuckers. Leave them with nothing as they did her.

She's going to take and take and take. The life of Abby's friends, crushed and squandered beneath her foot. The solid foundation of security they built, ripped apart at the seams, until walls topple and plans expire— until all the Wolves are scurrying through the wastelands, tails tucked, howling for mercy.

She abandoned the safe, armed walls of Jackson for this mission. Nothing could jeopardize it; not even her captivation with you.

Fortunately, you never found Whitney's body.

She should've been relieved. But when she stumbled upon you again, in that blossoming valley, there was spite there, and for a completely different reason. One she never considered; that you were truly scathed by her abandonment. She thought you would be better off without her; better rid of the sucking parasite leeching the good out of you with each moment she spent in your presence.

"Hey, Ellie?"

She snaps the journal closed briskly, sucking in a sharp breath. She thought you had fallen asleep; you had not shifted or spoken for an impressive duration of time. Especially for you.

"Yeah," she responds groggily, scratching her head, slipping the journal back into her bag, the list temporarily forgotten. She glances up to find you gone.

She staggers straight to her feet, calling your name, her tone dripping with apprehension. "Where are you?"

"Shh," you instruct quaintly from the shadows, whispering meticulously, "Over here."

She peers through the darkness encompassing the camp you'd assembled together, trailing your voice, conveyed through the cloying, nectary wind. The warming spring breeze fetters her hair.

She deciphers your figure in the tall, swaying canary, your stature hunched and diligent. "Come here," you whisper urgently, loudly, beckoning her over fervently. She reaches for her gun but freezes when you make a noise of disapproval.

Instead, she follows your voice, curiosity and concern weighing the scale in equal measure. "What is it?" She rasps quietly, cresting your side. Your eyes are trained intently on a small, shapeless shadow, lithely prowling the weeds.

"Come here, kitty," you drawl sweetly, clucking your tongue, drumming your thigh. The small creature pauses its strides, slowly lowering itself to the ground, giving an impassive lick of its paws.

"It's a cat," you mutter to Ellie, as if she had not already gathered that.

She refrains from rolling her eyes. "I can see that. Why were you even over here to begin with?"

You pointedly disregard her, taking a heedful step forward, crouching to be level with your new feline friend. "Come here, sweet thing. Come on. It's okay," you lull in a reassuring tone, patting the ground insistently. The cat only stares at you.

You sigh, arms draped defeatedly over your knees, frowning. "Okay. Never mind. Go back, please, I think you're scaring it."

"What?" Ellie snaps, and the cat startles, bracing it's paws in the dirt, back arched. "No way. Animals love me."

"Kay, well, it was coming to me before you came over here, stepping on every single branch you could find." You argue flippantly, shooting her a glare.

"It's your fault, you're the one who called me over here, dick!" Ellie defends airily, waving her hands.

You clap a hand over your mouth to conceal your automatic chuckle. Your rumbling shoulders and escaping snorts give you away. "Okay, okay, fine," you chortle breathily, shaking your head. "God, that look on your face never gets old."

She groans out a husky laugh, falling back a few paces, propping a mocking, insulted hand over her heart. "You are evil."

You flash her a sinister, lippy smile, mischief twinkling in your eyes, before averting your focus back to the cat, who had inched closer while you argued.

"Yes, that's it. Come here, baby," you click your tongue in a series of encouraging noises, and the cat— ears perked, nose sniveling— prances over to you, as if you waved a heaping bag of treats.

You tenderly, dubiously scoop the cat into your arms. Though acutely tense, it allows you to hold it, claws hesitantly retracting from your sleeve, piercing green eyes slitted and alert. "She's hurt," you inform, scratching it's matted, furry back. You slowly ascend to your feet and nod back toward the camp, following Ellie as she begins to trudge back. "I saw her limp by and followed her over here. Do you have some more gauze?"

"For the cat?" Ellie drawls incredulously, shooting you a look over her shoulder, stepping over a cluster of unearthed roots.

"Uh, yes? She's small, it won't take much." You assert, hiking the cat up as it starts to thrash and mewl anxiously. "Please?"

She wanted to tell you no, but she found that it was impossible to form the word— especially when you were gazing at her with sheer hope, head tilted pleadingly. "Fine."

"Woohoo!" You exclaim triumphantly to the cat, softly stroking between its luminous eyes with your thumb, easing its trepidation. It whimpers, pink nose prodding your jaw, pawing at the latticed hem of your tank top. "She said thanks, El-Bell!"

"How do you know it's a she?" Ellie asks as you enter the fire-illuminated clearing, the light casting ominous, flickering shadows over the deep, towering pine trees.

You shrug, hoisting the cat by its underarms, promptly spinning it around and baring its tattered, grimy belly to Ellie. "Yeah. You were right. Girl." She concedes with a grimace.

Ellie resumes her original position as you perch cross-legged across from her, planting the knotted cat in your lap. She's coated in a sweep of sleek, midnight black fur, so sumptuous it reflects the moon's sapphire glow. Her green eyes are unnaturally bright against her dark coat, penetrating through Ellie as she unpacks her gauze.

"I'm getting it," she mumbles to it warily, and it pivots away from her with unnecessary drama, curling it's tail.

"Don't be rude," you reprimand the cat, who ignores your scolding and persistently licks her splintered paw.

"Here you go," Ellie says, tossing you the gauze and medical tape. "You better hope your little friend doesn't get hurt again. I don't have enough supplies to fix her boo-boos."

She swears the cat fucking glares at her, before curiously, reluctantly sniffing at the gauze.

You must have seen it, too, for you giggle smugly. "What was that about animals loving you?"

"Shut up," Ellie grumbles, leaning back, hiking her knees to her chest. Exhaustion weighs heavy on her eyelids. She surveys you, bleary-eyed, as you scoop the cat into your arms and gingerly pry the wound, a pained shriek tearing from it's tiny body.

"Shh, it's okay," you comfort genially, petting her back as you fumble with the gauze, lightly encasing her wounded paw. "See? Almost done, already."

The cat relaxes in your gentle grasp, allowing you to seal the bandage around her paw. Ellie herself is nearly lulled to sleep by the pacification in your tone— the soft, honeyed melody of consolation rolling off your tongue.

"All done," you state quietly, pressing a forbearing kiss to her nicked ear, delicately peeling her out of your lap and placing her on the ground. "Be free, little one."

The cat lingers, staring at you nearly contemplatively. She blinks slowly, languidly, before swiveling away and skittering through the craning grass, disappearing through the trees.

You watch her go with a bleak, placid smile, the wind whipping your hair. Then you turn to Ellie. "You sleep, I'll keep watch."

She opens her mouth to refute, but you slice her a cutting, silencing look. "You're actively falling asleep as we speak. I'm good. You rest. I want to read some more, anyway," you insist blithely, dusting off your pants and walking back to your previous spot.

Ellie merely mumbles a response, her head already drooping. She falls into a brisk, fitful slumber, so tenuous that the snap of a twig could send her lurching. For once, she does not dream. Visions of terror did not cleave her conscious or beat her breathless. She saw only the flicker of light through her eyelids, and the quiet fragility of her own mind.

Until a faint meow has her bursting out of her slouch, eyes darting frantically around the clearing.

The black cat has her uninjured paw primly resting on Ellie's thigh, peering up at her expectantly with eery, incandescent eyes. Upon her attention, she nimbly removes her paw and demandingly rubs her head against her leg instead, another tinny meow ringing out of her.

"She's back. And I think she wants to lay with you," you explain humorously over the pages of your book— now nearly finished.

"Oh?" She replies in bewilderment, as the cat spins and pads her feet a couple of times before nestling into her side, resting her head on her dark paws.

"Can I come lay with you?" You murmur sleepily, casting fleeting, cautious looks at her as you stow your book away. As if already bracing for the sting of her rejection.

Ellie's heart throbs perniciously in her throat; she swallows in trepidation, sweat gathering on her palms. "Yeah. Yeah, of course," she forces out, wiping them on her jeans, straightening. Even after viewing your body after dark and eating your pussy, you make her nervous as fuck.

Even more so now that she knows how good you taste. And how perfect you are. Now she's burdened the knowledge that she cradles something precious in her hands, and she could unintentionally destroy it.

"I added some wood to the fire," you announce wearily, words punctuated by tiny, bursting yawns, as you adjust your oversized corduroy jacket around your shoulders and clamber over to her, a sheepish smile transforming your fatigue-dulled face.

"Come here," Ellie finds herself muttering, mimicking your exhaustion, spreading her legs and gesturing to the grass-cushioned ground beneath her. The cat still pressed into her, undeterred by her shifting.

You crawl delicately into the space between her legs, smiling through the yawn splitting your face, drawing a yawn out of Ellie, too. "Want me to keep watch again? You need to sleep some more," you say, reclining back against her chest and comfortably situating yourself, humming richly in unsuppressed delight.

Ellie wraps her arms around your shoulders, steering you back into her embrace, resting her chin on your mussed head. The affection should not come so naturally; she should not instinctively reach for you. It's not good.

Not fucking good at all.

"No," she whispers navally into your ear, eyeing the blazing fire through the tendrils of your unbound hair, that gleam with the dwindling light. "You sleep. You didn't sleep at all last night."

You tense fragmentarily in her grasp, muscles tightening under her arms. You hesitate, before craning your head back to face her, eyes searching. "You didn't either..." you whisper heedfully, lifting a hand and resting it on her forearm, stroking soothingly.

She had suspected you heard her cries last night. Instead of the confirmation making her feel ashamed, she felt... free. You saw the depths of her despair turn inside out and you did not cower at the hideous, wretched pain she unleashed.

"I never do," she replies baldly, swaying you gently, mouth hovering near the crest of your ear. Your thumbs tenderly caress the scars garnishing her arm, your eyes fluttering blissfully, your body sinking into her warmth. "Just sleep."

The lack of resistance proves just how desperately you needed it. You are whisked into a precipitated, fragile sleep, your breathing light and measured, your frame tucked up and slumped into her chest.

Her mind wanders only briefly to the violence lurking in its dark crevices, as she watches dense tendrils of smoke arise from the tamed fire, whirling and cascading toward the abrasive, glistening night sky, polluting her view of the stars.

She fantasizes of a smoldering house; a massive fire roaring from its pits, erupting in rippling flames that smolder the caving ceiling and dissolve the weak floorboards. She imagines the sear of blistering skin and the melting screams of anguish, of those who had incinerated her heart. She envisions all the relics and archives of her past being licked up by the fire and consumed by the glaring, ravenous heat.

Then she glances down at you, your blank, unconscious face illuminated by the flickering, dim orange glow. Something inside her softens, and she knows, grievously, that she has become malleable and pliant under your molding hands.

She stares at the slumbering, unbothered cat before returning her gaze back to you.

All of her hatred seems an afterthought to what she had right in front of her.

• • •

YOU

Blood pools on the fractured pavement. Firefly laps at it ravenously, her whiskers tinged crimson. "That's disgusting," you scowl disapprovingly, snatching her off the ground. She hisses in protest, clawing aimlessly at your sleeve, eyes crazed with hunger. You tap her bloodied nose reproachfully. "Bad."

She nips at your finger and you relent with a hearty sigh, placing her back on the ground. She skitters behind the rotting carcass of a clicker, it's head blown off in odious, blossoming cordyceps, pulsating dimly in a puddle of venomous blood. It's the first of hundreds.

You lift your head and examine the carnage that laid, revoltingly and obscenely, before your squinting eyes. Dozens upon dozens of butchered infected— cleaved into indistinguishable bits, sputtering blood, gushing decayed organs and crumpled flesh— piled in the lush street.

"What the fuck happened here?" Ellie drawls with a surprising amount of disgust, eyebrows furrowed as she ascended from her crouch, kneading a clump of clotted blood between her fingers.

You gulp down the thick lump of trepidation bulging in your throat, fretfully shaking the tremor out of your hands. "Don't know. It's gnarly, though," you respond, fighting the wobble out of your tone.

Truthfully, you recognize this distinctive gore.

After your parents tore each other to bits, Zander adopted a newfound disdain for infected. Before, he humanized the restless, ungovernable creatures— sympathized with their fucked up fate, to be killed and morphed into a monster.

But after the accident, he hated them. He found impressively disturbing ways to terminate them. Eventually he founded a signature method; to slice them into pieces as your parents had done, unbidden and under the influence of the infections debilitating madness.

This was him. You know, in the deepest caverns of your soul where your joint grief was stored, that this was his doing.

Not to mention the ragged Z carved into the blistered, yellowing flesh of one of the dead runners. You kick it's gnarled, unseemly body over to hide the exhibiting brand from Ellie, curling your lip with rehearsed repulsion. "Gross," you whisper, though internally, relief swarms your nerves, cacooning your apprehension in a warm blanket.

He is alive.

And the mark signifies that he is leaving signs for you to find.

"I'm just mad they beat me to it," Ellie complains under her breath, glowering at the expanse of cadavers cloaking the broken road. She tips your chin up, extracting your lingering gaze from the reeking bodies. "You good?"

You brush her off with a forced, invigorated smile. "Yep!" you chirp, nodding robustly, side-stepping a clicker. "At least we don't have to deal with all of them. Whoever did it, we should thank. Saved us some ammo," you craft your words meticulously as not to unearth your burrowed truth.

Ellie studies you a moment before dropping her hand. "True," she eventually yields, eyes wandering to Firefly, who was attacking a cord of muscle that protruded from the gaping stomach of a dead clicker, gnawing at the tough tissue. "Get your batshit cat. We're losing daylight."

"She's a perfectly normal cat," you retort, though your rebuttal is contradicted by the face you make. You grimace as she swats at a springing cordycep, growling ferociously. "Firefly! Stop that!" You shout, snapping your fingers.

Her ears twitch, head lurching up, green eyes wide. She is deathly still. You snap again, and she darts after Ellie skittishly, following her lead.

You chance another look at the wreckage, toying with the gold wedding band dangling from your throat. It was your mother's. Zander wore your fathers matching one around his neck. You usually kept yours stowed in the pits of your backpack, but you needed that touch of home.

Ellie had lifted your hair and gently latched it around you without questions asked, a hint of understanding in her eyes. You were grateful for her silence in that moment. Usually it unnerved you when she didn't speak. But in that moment it felt like a gift as opposed to a punishment.

"Where are we heading?" You question plainly, tucking the wedding band under your shirt, the memories a wild, unleashed zoo animal, tranquilized and thrown back into its enclosure. The ring is damp with your incessant, sweaty fidgeting.

"There's a place up ahead I like to go. Thought we could rest there for the night," she replies vaguely, glancing furtively at you, then the cat, her lip curling. "I still can't believe you named that thing Firefly."

"It's a cute name," you grumble back, sweeping your sweat-glistening hair off your neck and fanning the hot skin. "You could've come up with something too, you know."

This morning, you had awoken in Ellie's arms, jovial and recharged. For the first time in months, you had an uninterrupted, rejuvenating sleep, one that added a spring to your step and an effortlessness to your trekking. The cat was curled snugly in your lap, her affectionate purrs vibrating against your legs.

Ellie was stiff-necked and ill-tempered for the better half of the day, massaging the tension out of her shoulders and grumbling her responses.

"What should we name her?" You had asked, sprawled on your back, hefting the cat into the air as if she were a wailing baby in desperate need of motion and entertainment.

"Dramatic?" Ellie had quipped dully, and you rolled your eyes skyward.

"What about... oh!" You jerked upright in excitement, still cradling the cat in your arms. "Firefly."

An indecipherable emotion passed over her, tension lining the contours of her face. A hint of contempt glimmered in her eyes, and it felt like she was glaring down her nose at you, judging you like God weigh's pupils of sin, even as she sat at your eye-level. "Don't tell me you believe in that Firefly bullshit, too?"

Her reaction both intrigued and befuddled you. You possessed minimal knowledge on the Fireflies beyond the basics— that they were a reformed militia group that was majorly massacred by a man, who resulted in the death of Abby's father— and that she recruited a few friends to go after said man.

And someone was hunting them down for his murder. You had lost Nora and Jordan to the spiteful hands of his avenger; which is the only bright side to being excluded and shunned from Abby's circle— you were not involved in the man's murder, meaning you will not be involved in whatever vengeance they earned themselves.

Every now and then, back at the base, they get a few former Fireflie's filing in to join the Wolve's. Isaac— the focal overseer and governor of the WLF— was wary of stragglers that claimed past allegiances to the Fireflies, but welcomed them anyway, if they guaranteed to defend the base and protect his established citizens, as you and Zander pledged to do.

"No. Not at all. All of those stupid groups are bullshit," you agreed ardently, shaking your head in aversion, stroking Firefly's tummy. "I meant the actual insect, fireflie's. I just think they are so pretty at night. And I swear I could see the moon reflecting off her. Just seemed fitting."

Ellie had paused the sharpening of her blade. She analyzed you in the dewy, clouded sunlight, combating the interest off her face. But it flashed too late for her to conceal; her eyes lit up. "What other groups do you know about?" She asked carefully.

You shrugged, feigning indifference. "Like the Seraphites," you hummed, finger-combing Firefly's shiny black coat. "And I've seen another group around here. But I think they were just travelers."

Ellie said nothing, resuming her survey of her switchblade. She polished it with a tattered cloth and studied it, and that was that, the subject abandoned.

Now, Ellie snorts, peeling back a looming, overgrown branch to allow you passage. "Nah. That's your cat." She says as you saunter by, even as the cat pads after her, nose tipped to the air, breathing in the sent of damp soil, heady rot and the faint, sweet traces of a budding spring.

You trudge along the rocky, uneven path, bricks and shattered molasses-brown beer bottles specking the dirt, holding hope tight to your chest.

After stumbling upon Zander's mess, all the worry you harbored for your brother had ebbed away. He's alive. You hope the others are, too.

Even if you are not amicable with a large number of his group, a couple of them treated you fairly. Whitney was the closest thing to a friend you had there; she always tracked you down in the mess hall and shared her lunch. She even alternated her watch-shifts with Manny to join you on yours when she could, and shared her access card to the armory to practice shooting with you.

When you had first arrived, you scarcely knew how to use anything beyond a hand-gun. She trained you on a variety of firearms when your free time corresponded; you owe the new capabilities that kept you alive on this expedition to Whitney. She was the only one who never made you feel bad about it. She simply demonstrated for you without comment or judgement.

You hope whoever was sent to retrieve you— if anyone at all— was safe. Though, considering that Isaac didn't even send out a search party for Owen when he went missing, you doubt that he would gamble the life of his prized soldiers just to find a meaningless girl who was bullied and deluded out of his faction.

Clearly it did not stop Zander from looking for you, if the mutilated bodies of those infected were any indication. It could not be a coincidence. You know it was him. You just know it.

A strange part of you just hopes he doesn't find you yet. You have an intuitive, twisting suspicion churning in your gut, that this tenuous thing between you and Ellie will snap if anyone, or anything disrupts it.

You have a feeling that in finding him, you'll lose her. And you don't know what that means. You don't know where you're supposed to go from here; but you know that you can't just let her go.

With that, you saunter up to Ellie and flash her a winning, mindless smile, slithering your hand snugly into her back pocket. She tugs you flush into her side with a finger curled in your belt loop, and you stumble into her with a stunned laugh, Firelfy at your heels. You wish things could stay this easy.

You look at her and find strength beyond what had been forced upon you— a strength to fight for a better future.

• • •

Tangled, warm white Christmas lights dimly illuminate the abandoned teen-girls bedroom. Peeling posters are plastered to the walls, fraying with age and weathered by earth's course battering. A threadbare beanbag chair collected dust in the corner, the once vibrant purple now grimy and muted with time. Cobwebs edge the corners of the room in a luminous sprawl, their thick tendrils sparkling under the light.

You could see why Ellie found comfort in this place.

A black rack of CD's lined the desk, where the residue of ripped and prodded band stickers marred the refined oak. A thick coating of dust blanketed the surface. Your eyes flicker from the impressive album collection to the hot-pink poster board taped haphazardly to the closet with leopard print duct tape. Emboldened words scrawled in bright marker and glitter gel pens jut out in bubbled letters— MAISIE'S SUMMER BUCKET LIST 2003!

You avert your attention back to the desk, and the stack of mussed, tattered sketchbooks. The black covers are stained with charcoal and splotches of solidified paint, pages scattered. You rummage through one idly, thumbing through the doodles that range from gleaming sunrises to descriptive depictions of infected in a variety of stages, flowers blooming from their skulls instead of cordyceps.

You hum, grazing your pinkie over the elaborate drawings. "Have you seen these? They're..." you trail off in bewilderment when you glance up at what had captured Ellie's attention.

The dead body of a fallen solider.

Ripped camo dangled in tattered strips from the skeletal frame slumped against the unhinged door. It's jaw was missing, baring decaying teeth. Flies rattled in its hollow skull and buzzed busily about its frame. Ellie crouches and examines the chain enveloping it's neck. "They were a firefly," she informs you bleakly from over her shoulder, smoothing a thumb over the raised design etched into the pendant.

She rips it off it's neck sharply, and an involuntary screech bursts out of you when the head rolls off the body with a sickening crunch, thudding to the floor, sending up a cloud of dust. Ellie watched it fall with disinterest, holding the necklace up to you. "We should put it on your cat," she says, glaring pointedly at Firefly, who nestled herself into the bean bag and chewed on something dead she scoured, tail waving lethargically.

"Go ahead. I'd wait until she's done eating, though, or else she might maul you."

She releases a long-suffering sigh but ascends from her crouch, jingling the pendant tauntingly in your face, eyebrows raised. You laugh as she pursues Firefly with rightful caution. Her deliberate movements do not stop the cat from freezing and glowering at her, dark fur elevating.

"It's okay," Ellie drawls with no conviction. "Relax, dude."

Firefly makes to dart away, but Ellie swiftly wrestles her into her arms, holding her firm, as she hisses and screams in protest, squirming. "Come here, little devil," she grunts out harshly, sloppily clipping the pendant around her neck. Firefly swats violently, nicking her with a razor-sharp claw.

Ellie relinquishes her grip and Firefly wastes no time scrambling away, scurrying under the half-dilapidated bed. Her brilliant green eyes flare with menace from the shadows, narrowed at her.

"The shit I do for you," Ellie clicks her tongue and brandishes the furious scratch that superficially sliced her arm.

You ignore the jest. "Should we get rid of... of..." you stutter, gesturing at the body apprehensively, shifting from foot to foot. "That?"

Ellie nods, and you follow her to where it's rotting. She carelessly scoops up the skull and chucks it out of the gaping hole in the wall, before bracing her hands on the remnants of its body, leveling you with a look. You scramble to aid her, mustering a confirming nod back.

With joint effort, you shove it over the edge of the building. You peer over the jutted lip of the bedroom; numerous stories stretched between you and the pavement. Mist gathers in a dense, ominous cloud, shielding your view of the ground below. The bones clatter and deconstruct until they're engulfed by the haze. You were so far up, you couldn't hear them break against the earth.

You glance at Ellie to find her already observing you.

"What?"

She simply shrugs and rises, dusting the loitering essence of death off her hands, changing the topic with a fluidity that came with her consistent avoidance. "We can either try to fix that bed or sleep on the floor. Take your pick."

"I don't think Firefly would appreciate it if we took away her hiding spot," you quip, and it was settled.

The day was not yet done, but you set up camp regardless. Both of you maneuver in a pleasant silence as you unbundle your sleeping bags and roll them over the stained, carpeted floor. Ellie positions hers a whopping ten feet away from yours, the distance nearly offensive. "What are you doing?" You ask in disbelief, pausing your bed-making to gawk at her, open-mouthed.

"What?" She snaps in alarm, glancing around, looking for tangible evidence of her misdeed.

You point at her bed roll incredulously. "Why are you so far from me?"

She tenses and flicks her gaze away, her bag sliding off her shoulder and to the floor with a hefty thud. "I didn't want to assume you'd want to sleep by me."

You blink fervently. "Ellie."

She watches uncertainly as you punctuate her name and drag her sleeping bag next to yours, until they're close to overlapping. "You literally had your tongue inside of me. Stop being weird all of a sudden."

She visibly reddens, a vicious blush blotching her cheeks. You open your mouth to continue, adrenaline coursing through your veins, when she charges at you and cups a silencing hand over your mouth, a pained smirk tugging at her lips. "Just stop!" She hisses, her lips a wobbling line as she resists a grin of her own.

You chuckle and stumble back, licking her palm. She blanches and releases you, wiping her spit-damp hand on her jeans, her sudden movement sending you plummeting to the floor. You drag her down with you, your breathy laughs mingling as you collapse in a tangle of limbs onto the sea of slippery blankets.

You both burst into another fit of laughter when Firefly growls at all the commotion. She pads out into the foyer, swaying her tail with sass.

"Do you ever shut up?" Ellie mutters lowly, laughter clinging onto every lulled syllable, as she props herself on an elbow and gazes down at you, running a finger over your bottom lip.

You smile, and she traces the shape of it.

"Do you want me to?" You whisper humorously, and her thumb joins her finger in its exploration of the curves of your face, stroking your cheek with an unlikely tenderness that had the power to undo you.

"Never," she mumbles back, applying a chaste, shapeless kiss to the corner of your mouth. It's not enough. She deigns to pull away but you sling an arm over the back of her neck and hold her in place, lips seeking hers with repressed fervor.

She groans into your mouth, the decadent sound rumbling through you, alighting a glimmering need within. You increase the speed and intensity of the kiss— her noises an invitation for more— and propel yourself up with a hand plastered unsteadily to the floor, combing your fingers through her hair with the other.

Her hand rests on your throat, the pressure existent but not imposing, as she guides you into a languorous dance with your tongues. You buck your hips up to sate the craving for pressure and she slips a hand down to your waist, guiding you up and into her.

"I want you for real this time," she blurts breathlessly, words blasting into your tingling, swollen lips. Her eyes are teeming with earnest, pupils so dilated with lechery, they reflect you, doe-eyed and wanting. "No interruptions. I don't fucking care what it is... I'm not going to stop." She utters the words with quivering determination, fumbling with the button of your jeans.

You desperately nod your assent, arching up to assist her in removing your jeans. She brushes fluttery kisses to your exposed midriff where your tank top had ridden up, hurriedly tugging your jeans down, until they pooled at your ankles. She shucks them over your cowboy boots and hurls them to the side.

Your heart hammers with anticipation, core throbbing at the sight of her absolutely unraveled with yearning. Ever since that night in the hospital, you've wanted more. Needed more. You were just as fucked up by your need for her. It consumed you, ate you from the inside out, until all that was left was a thirst that could not be quenched without her hands on you.

"Fuck me, Ellie," you demand hoarsely, winding your hands up her thighs and shakily unbuttoning her jeans as she looms over you. She arches back and unabashedly shreds off her shirt as you hike down her jeans, unveiling small, supple breasts and hard, tantalizing nipples.

You kiss up her pelvis, across her toned, bruised abdomen and to her sternum, licking a slow stripe over one of her nipples and swirling it on your way up, eyes trained on hers lasciviously. You nip and suckle at a spot on her neck and she cranes her head back, hiccuping a sharp cry. She pants and lulls her head as you kiss and nibble the bared column of her throat, her hands roaming up the front of your body, palming your tits through your shirt.

She lifts herself off of you momentarily to kick off her jeans over her Converse, discarding them quickly, before she's back on top of you.

She's framed by the dying daylight penetrating the gaping hole behind her, her eyes flickering over you hungrily. She glides her hands under the hem of your tank top and yanks it over your head, tousling your hair, rejected with all the other articles of scattered clothing.

She pries your legs apart forcefully, and you squeak, as she pulls you closer to her. "How do you want it?" She croons gravelly, voice rich with heady desire, eyes honed in on your face with predatory focus. As if she could take every hint of pleasure you show and have it for herself. She straddles your pelvis and slowly, faintly swipes her pussy over yours, your clit throbbing at the contact. "Like this?"

She cradles your leg in her arm and drags her pussy across yours again, this time with more force. You bite your lip to suppress a whimper at the delicious sensation. "Or do you want me to really fuck you?" She thrusts against you hard for emphasis and you choke back a stunned moan, jerking.

"Yes," you breathe carnally, hair fanning around your head, mouth agape— all subtly gone with the wind that billowed through the room and cooled your slick skin.

"Yes, what? Use your words," she demands, hand encasing your throat, rocking into you with that same jarring force, another moan escaping you.

"Fuck me," you pant, nearly drooling, the husk of her words a fuel to the kindling that was her pussy moving against yours, "Please just fuck me. I need you, Ellie."

She smirks haughtily, wicked satisfaction gleaming in her blue eyes. "That's my girl," she praises knowingly, leaning down until her mouth brushes your panties. She sinks her teeth into them and tears them straight off your body, her hand never abandoning its anchoring hold on your throat. The movement was so effortless you could feel yourself dripping, the duality of this woman stupefying you.

How she could go from awkward at your flirting, to claiming your body as if it were a land she possessed and ruled in the matter of minutes.

You whimper unintelligible nonsense, unable to form coherent words to convey your debilitating need. Wanting her feels as natural and essential as breathing. Explaining it is nowhere near as simple.

She removes herself from you just to slide her own panties off, repositioning herself between your legs, holding your leg to her chest. She offers no warning before she grinds her bare, wet pussy into yours, the skin on skin making tingles of pleasure erupt through your core.

It was nearly too much.

You emit a shuddering moan and arch your back as she returns her calloused hand to your throat and slams into you, rolling her hips, your clits rubbing and chafing. "That's it. Fuck," she hisses out, her tattooed arm stark against your thigh as she hoists it to her, using it to drive into you with fierce precision, your pussy's slapping together stickily.

"Oh my fucking god," you mewl dumbly, tits bouncing, as she angles her hips and relentlessly drives her pelvis into yours, her breaths clipped and high-pitched. You undulate your hips and grind up into her, meeting the ferocity of her thrusts, your juices coinciding and glistening on your thighs. "Ellie."

"Fuck, yeah," she pants blissfully, peering down at you. "You feel so good."

She leans over you, slapping a hand next to your head, folding your leg up to your chest, the position allowing for better movement. She grinds into you from the new angle, your clits gliding and throbbing, and you feel yourself ascending higher and higher, toward that peak you nearly met the other night, at the hospital.

She fucks you nearly senseless, your frame wracking with her thrusts. She burrows her face into the crook of your neck, hot breath ghosting your skin, tiny grunts departing her lips. She grazes her teeth over the flesh and you shudder, her hand that was planted to the floor snaking up and finding yours, interlocking your fingers.

"I'm gonna cum," you whimper into her mussed hair, writhing beneath her, choppily grinding up, your muscles tight. You use the hand that's not intertwined with hers to fist her hair and reer her head back, until your faces are level, gazes locked. Both of you are heavy-lidded and pupil-blown, her eyes brimming with that same pleasure that was mounting in you.

"Cum with me," she orders breathily, your noses compressing, and on demand your body convulses and a blinding white light shreds through your vision, an uncontrolled moan belting out of you as she continues to fuck you through your orgasm.

"Fuck," she groans without restraint as your pussy's squelch, a cry leaving her as she reaches her own peak, her eyebrows furrowed, a dimple surfacing between her brow. She breathes into your open mouth, and you claim it as your own, granting her fleeting kisses through the aftermath.

Not a single thought filters through your head. Nothing beyond her drenched pussy, resting dormant upon your slick thigh, and her lips eloping with yours. You don't even know where to begin when it comes to processing the unprecedented feeling that roared throughout your body, or the swelling off your heart.

Neither of you say a word, your harsh, heavy breathing mingled and protruding the silence. Ellie peels herself off of you, her legs shaking as she thuds to the sleeping bag adjacent to you, her damp forehead pressed into your bare shoulder. She peppers a few kisses over it before falling back, expelling a deep, contented sigh.

You angle your head to face her, a dazed grin splitting your face. "What. The. Fuck. You've been holding out on me," you muse dreamily, playfully swatting at her.

She snickers huskily, scratching her head, propping it on an elbow. Her bare chest glistens and heaves with her labored breaths, as she reaches under the broken bed and slips out a shoebox. She dumps the contents out on her abdomen— a packet of finely minced weed, rolling sheets, a mini box of matches and one pre-rolled joint. "You smoke?"

"I have. Don't do it much though," you admit with a sheepish chuckle, watching her. She licks the length of the joint to insure its sealed before slipping it between her lips and lighting a match, bringing it to the tip. She waves out the tiny flame once smoke billows from the end, taking a measured, steady drawl.

She closes her eyes briefly at the sensation before passing it to you. Her lips quirk as you survey it dubiously before holding it hesitantly to your mouth, sucking in. Her smirk morphs into a resounding laugh when you sputter out a choppy haze of smoke, a profound burn blistering your lungs.

"That shits gross," you cough gutturally, passing it back, batting the swirling smoke out of the air. "You keep that stuff here?"

"No," she responds, smirking, inhaling another graceful heap of smoke. Exhaling slowly. You watch her watch the tendrils churn through the otherwise still air. "It was here when I found this place. Whoever lived here before was stashing it," she glances to the summer bucket list, "Maisie was a stone-er." She chides, flicking the ashes off and taking another hit.

She is noticeably put at ease. Her muscles are relaxed, and her smiles form innately and without dictation. As if all her worries have been laid to rest, now that she got to feel you.

It had the opposite affect on you.

The dark, possessive thoughts that have been circulating your mind like vultures preying on rotting roadkill did not flea at the taste of her.

All it did was amplify your morbid longing.

You snuggle into her embrace and rest your head against her drumming sternum, entangling your sweat-glowing legs together, fusing your bodies. She holds the joint to your lips and you take a drag, careful not to invoke another coughing fit, and she takes one after you, blowing precise, opaque O's with the smoke. She gently runs her fingertips up and down the length of your arm, clutching you to her.

"Can we do it again?" You blurt, angling your head up to face her, and she pauses her stroking. She says nothing as her hand winds down your arm, coasts over your hip, and creeps between your legs.

You suck in a breath when two fingers collect the wetness pooling at your entrance and drag your slick to your clit, rubbing delicately, the feather-light application of pressure evoking a whimper out of you. You squirm and rock into her hand, and she chuckles on a weed-laced breath, "Mm. You want me to fuck you again?"

You nod frantically as she works your pussy with her fingers. She sits up suddenly, taking you with her, until your spread in her lap. She holds the joint between her lips as she uses one hand to palm your breast and the other to expertly thumb your clit, smoke coiling from her nostrils. "Needy fucking girl," her approving groan is muffled by the joint, as she inches her fingers down your wet folds, teasing your entrance. "You want my fingers again?"

"Please," you whine, as reeking smoke tickles your earlobe and wafts into your face, the hand that wasn't easing fingers into your cunt slithering down to keep one of your legs spread, curling around your thigh, kneading and caressing, the joint between her massaging fingers.

You reach back to feather your fingers through her hair, riding her hand, breathy gasps escaping your lips. "Mhm. Good girl," she praises gravelly into your ear, curling her digits inside of you, stroking that sweet spot.

You tug helplessly on her hair and crash your head back onto her shoulder, arching desperately as she makes you cum for the second time, this time drenching her rough fingers.

She doesn't stop there. She maneuvers you out of her lap and sprawls you onto the bed roll, your legs spread, pussy gleaming and sated before her devouring eyes. She braces your thighs in her arms, takes a hit, and exhales onto your clenching pussy, the faint gust stimulating your throbbing clit. You moan and attempt to inch away, but she pins you down and eats you stupid, until her chin is dribbling with your juices, her sardonic smile highlighted by the cum glistening on her lips.

After she was done, she unburried herself from your legs and licked the juices off her lips, eyeing you sensually. She acted as if she were about to go right back down, when Firefly began scratching at the door insistently, meowing manically. Both of you redressed, hefting your tops and underwear back on.

You let the cat in and enveloped yourself in the near-translucent, cotton sheets, observing her as she tiptoes in, sniffing the air. She follows the scent to the crumpled joint on the floor, nosing it curiously. Ellie clicks her tongue in reprimand and tosses it over the side of the building before she tries to eat it. The last thing you needed was a high cat.

After discarding the joint, Ellie plops down on the hazardous edge, swinging her legs. She looks at you from over her bruised shoulder. "Come on," she urges, patting the space next to her.

You oblige, the sheet trailing you as you wander over to her. She takes your hand as you gingerly lower yourself beside her, effortfully prying your gaze from the dizzying height.

The mist had cleared with the days dissipating humidity, revealing the enchanting sweep of ocean that spread before you, dark waves emphasizing the curve of the earth. The sun gleams amber like a glass of whiskey caught in the light, painting the clouds a mass of colors, descending toward the seam of sky and sea.

You avert your attention back to Ellie. Her eyes are sealed, brown lashes fluttering with the breeze, tawny hair cascading with the salt-tinged wind. Her freckles are emphasized by the golden, showering glow, gilding her features. You sit on your hands to keep yourself from tracing them.

Firefly inches over, perching next to you, her green eyes mirroring the setting sun. You close your eyes and drop your head onto Ellie's shoulder, wrapping the sheet around her.

There's a prolonged beat.

And then she tilts her head and rests it on yours, hand gripping your thigh proprietarily. You don't even hesitate. You slide your hand over hers and stroke the bruises blossoming on her knuckles, smiling to yourself.

taglist: @elliesexual @jottedinklings @a-little-bit-of-everybody … let me know if you want to be tagged for updates

#burningbodywaiting #ellie williams #the last of us #ellie tlou #joel miller #playstation #ps4 #the last of us 2 #tlou #tlou2 #ellie the last of us #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie smut #wlw #tlou fanfiction

[cranberryjuice-posts]

I love You, so.. please let me go

Synopsis- basically everything after the boat scene if Abby had a girlfriend

Pairings - Abby Anderson X Fem! Reader

An: you guys love my angst dont lie 💔💔

Abby Anderson..

That was the woman of the hour. You had known Abby for a long time, known her well enough that you two had started dating around the same time as Mel and Owen. You two cared for each-other, both looking out for one another both telling eachother everything.

That’s why you were pissed to find out Abby went AWOL. That wasn’t like her and of-course you had to assume it had something to do with Owen being AWOL..

—

Abby was crouching in-front of lev looking around for WLF members trying to figure out what was going on when she heard a strangling noise.

One arm around levs shoulders and your knife pressed to his throat.

“Woah woah WOAH! Holy shit y/n” Abby whispered yelled and held her hands out to calm you.

You panted and gave her a look. “Don’t tell me.. are you trying to save this scars life”

“Seraphite”

“Shut the fuck up” You pressed your blade harder to levs throat not appreciating his tone.. Abby however was reaching out trying to calm you down. Soon she grabbed your hands and softly made you release lev.

As soon as the boy was free he immediately drew his bow and Abby freaked out again. “Dude.. seriously”

Lev just huffed. “She attacked me”

“And she’s no longer doing that so put the bow down damn..” Abby sighed and turned back to you. “Hey..” she gave a soft smile but you rolled your eyes. “Traveling with a scar?! Really Abby”

“Seraphite” lev continued to correct.

“Have you ever heard of keeping your damn mouth closed” You lightly yelled pissed off at the situation. You faced back at Abby. “And going AWOL? What the hell is that about”

Abby just sighed and looked around before grabbing your shoulders. “I’ll explain everything I promise but we need to leave now ok..” she stood up and gave lev a look. Begrudgingly you followed along still pissed off.

The entire way back it was silent other than Abby and levs remarks to one another.

—

Once back at the aquarium you dragged Abby away and forced her to talk to you. “So.. you gonna fill me in on why Mel is upset, there’s two scars—“

“Seraphites” Abby spoke almost immediately even shocking herself.

“Oh my god! You to” you groaned rubbed your eyes. “Whatever look Abby what the hell is going on”

After a pause Abby sighed and finally let up explaining everything she knew.

-

You stood silent and covered your mouth still fustrated but nodded slowly. “Ok…”

“Ok?”

“Yeah ok.. your going to go find some firefly’s or whatever I’m going with you” you looked up and gave Abby a face that showed it wasn’t up for discussion. Abby just nodded and hit her sides. You knew she was hiding something but ultimately you let it go. “Go Talk to that scar— Seraphite whatever kid… that’s his sister in there yeah he’s probably freaking the fuck out”

Before leaving Abby pulled you into a hug. “You know I love you.. right” confused you hugged back. “Uh yeah” you chuckled and patted her.

“What’s this all about” You pulled back and tilted your head.. Abby just sighed and kissed you lightly.

She just closed her eyes and sighed. “Nothing.. it’s nothing”

——

Mel had just finished cursing at Abby.. she looked around fustrated before hearing your voice.

“Abby what is Mel talking about” you walked over slowly with a defensive stance. Abby turned immediately with her breath caught in her throat.

“I-“

“You fucked Owen?” Tears formed in your eyes. You felt as though you were about to throw up at the thought of your girlfriend sleeping with someone else. Abby rushed over and tried to grab you but you just shoved her away. “What is wrong with you!”

In a last resort abby tried to grab your hands “it was an accident please-“

“How do You Have sex on accident!” You ripped your hands away and stepped back.

“Look we We’re arguing and we started to fight and shit esca—“

“You fucked him because shit escalated?!” At this point you were crying while yelling at the girl. Abby couldn’t even try to justify it anymore she just tried to reach out for you but yet again you pushed her away. “We’re done”

Abby paused and shook her head. “Your not serious”

You however very much were. “I am.. I Dont ever want to fucking hear or see you again abby you understand” jabbing a finger into her chest with tears. You bit your lip and shook your head. “What happened to not keeping secrets? What happened to actually being mature adults and telling each-other everything!.. I knew you were selfish Abby but shit you really out did yourself this time” you laughed and stepped back.

Abby reached forward not wanting to loose you but you just shook her off and quickly left.. Abby paced around for a second before kicking a chair to take some of her frustration out. She wiped her eyes and took a minute to think.. Abby had fucked everything up, she lost one of her oldest friends and she just had to loose the woman she loved.

—

Lev had ran away. That’s all you knew as you stood out at the railing watching him leave.. you studied the scene of Owen and Mel going back and forth on if Owen would go.

Abby snapped at him and told him to get his priorities straight. You looked down and spoke up.

“Let me go with you.” You stepped forward but Abby shook her head.

“No. Your too important, stay here and help Mel”

“But—“

“Y/n please.. I know I fucked up but just do this for me ok” she practically begged you.. Abby wanted nothing more than to grab you and kiss you in hopes to make it all better but this was neither the time or place for that, so she settled for the second option asking you to stay safe.

You just nodded and silently watched as she left.. once Abby was out of view you turned to Owen.

“Your a real fucking piece of work Owen.. you don’t deserve Mel and you certainly didn’t deserve Abby” pushing him back slightly and grabbing Mel’s hand before leading her away.

———

Lev and abby returned from the island after she had gone after lev. They stepped into the aquarium but it was eerily quite.. Alice was dead— that’s the first thing abby noticed. Lev drew his bow and Abby grabbed a pipe before slowly walking towards the main part of the aquarium.

That’s where she saw the scene. Owen sprawled out with a gun shot in his chest, Mel with a knife in her throat and you.. you laying on the ground with a wound to your head.

She dropped to her knees in distraught; throwing up as she cried. Lev stood awkwardly not wanting to cause more problems. From the scene most would assume you had just walked in at the wrong time and faced who ever had the gun in hand.

Abby noticed the map on the ground and grabbed it taking a long look at it before standing up and walking to your body.. she bent down and kissed you one final time before letting go…. She was gonna find whoever did this.. and kill them.

AN: not as Angsty as i wished it was but Yk 🙁🙏

#Spotify #lesbian #wlw #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson angst #tlou angst #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

[sweetyluvs]

20 with abby please 🙏😻😻

𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮

abby anderson x fem! reader

ask and you shall receive 😉

tags - fluff, comfort, angst(ish), kissing and mentions of typical canonical violence!

it was no surprise that in the WLF territory it was filled with violence and mayhem, Seraphites fighting against WLF weren’t uncommon. at all. Abigail Anderson was Isaac’s top scar killer, her kill count above any number you’ve tried to reach. being a medic was hard, too, but you know that being a dependent warrior was harder.

It was uncommon for Abby to have a day off— a day to herself, and a day to spend with only you. You began dating the gentle girl around five months ago, her stuttering, red faced confession making your heart burst more than it already did when she was around. Once your relationship truly began, you really began to see her troubles. As her friend, you always tried to be there for her, but as her girlfriend, you fully understand her burdens and feelings, leading for you to be able to help her heal— may it be physically, or mentally.

so that’s how you got here, stirring Abby’s favorite meal in a pot, making it fresh and warm for her to come home to after a 12 hour Patrol. You hummed lightly upon cleaning up the last of the dishes, your sink side filled with the other clean ones. Your head snapped behind you upon hearing the door open, a smile gracing your features upon the familiar footsteps that met your old wooden floor.

Abby walked into the kitchen, her beautiful long braid falling down her shoulders, messy, dirty strands falling out. Her face was covered in dirt; making you assume she has taken a nasty tumble. Her elbows were scraped and her hands were bloody. Your smile only continued upon seeing the smile on her face.

“Hey, bambi.” she said, walking towards you. “abby,” you breathed, wrapping two arms around her neck as her hands wrapped around your wait, grabbing you softly. “How was it?” your question seemed to make her cringe, lips pursing. “it.. could’ve been better.” she said, shoving her head into your neck. you sigh, understanding. “I’m sorry.. But, I made you some hazelnut soup,” the moment those words left your mouth, abby’s head whipped up and she sniffed the air repeatedly. “so that’s what smells so good.” she murmurs, letting you go and quickly making her way to the pot on the stove.

“I’ll serve you some, it just needs a few more minutes to finish.” you said, watching as she bent over and let in a big inhale. “You should take a bath, abby. so you can be all warm and cozy when you eat it.” you grinned, watching as she nodded, turning around to you.

“that sounds great. feel.. feel like coming with me?” she asked, her hands entrancing itself with yours. “of course.”

you both walked to the bathroom, abby stripped her clothes as you ran the bath, putting bubbles of soap in the running water before removing your own clothing.

as your took off your last piece, you heard a satisfied groan erupt from the bath. you turned your head to see abby, her braid still intact as she laid eyes-closed in the warm water. You smiled, approaching her from behind and pushing her up, sliding in the bath behind her.

You wrapped your arms around her wait, swaying back and forth as the bubbles moved with you. you sniffed, silence following for a moment.

“good thing you agreed to this bath.”

“oh, shut up.” she laughed, nudging you off and reaching for her braid tip, removing the hair tie and placing it outside of the tub. You were never not awestruck upon watching her beautiful, long, golden, braid made curls fall from her head. You would enjoy them more if they were clean, though.

you reached out of the tub, below the right corner of the section to grab the bathing sponge— bringing it inside the water and coating it in the soap.

low hums emitted from your throat as you moved abby’s long hair out of the way of her back and began washing it softly, up and down. A heavy sigh left her lips, back relaxing into the soapy sponge easily. You held back a giggle at how she folded. Moving the sponge to wash her shoulders, down her arms and around her sides. she was completely soapy now, eyes shut.

“can you dunk your head in the water?” you whispered softly, guiding her head softly under the water upon the nod she replied with.

The dunk was quick, but thorough. Soaking her golden hair completely. as she sat back up you reached for the shampoo, squirting it on the top of her head before beginning to massage.

if abby wasn’t relaxed before, she definitely was now. Her head hanging back, neck loose as you washed her dirty hair. Your long nails massaging her scalp softly. Your hums started up again; a song your mother sang you since you were small. You’d told abby about it when she heard you humming it, and she said she loves the tune and thinks it’s cute when you sing it.

your hands move down from her scalp to her loose hair, running your hands through it softly, allowing the shampoo to travel down. you stopped for a moment, simply admiring her. You bent forward, landing a sweet kiss to her cheek; watching as her face turned red. “what was that for?”

“just admiring the beautiful girl in front of me.” you murmured, continuing your streak of washing her hair. Abby laughed, the light action shaking her whole body.

“okay, beautiful, dunk.” you commented, to which abby dunked her head again. You washed her hair with conditioner and she dunked again— complaining.

“ugh— how many more times?” she says, wiping the water from her eyes. “none. you’re done.” you grin, scratching her back softly and kissing her cheek once more before standing from the rub, the water falling off your naked body quickly as you reached for a towel.

Abby followed suit after, her muscles gleaming with the slick of the warm water. You gave her a towel, she wrapped it around herself and as she dried, you changed and quickly went to the kitchen to get her a bowl of soup. Your hand wrapped around the old bowl and brought it to the pot on the stove, filling it to the brim before garnishing it with crushed hazelnuts and a mint leaf. You had finished just in time, as abby had also walked into the kitchen.

She sat down, her hands still drying out her hair with her white towel. You placed the bowl in front of her, bending down lightly to kiss the crook of her nose. “Enjoy, love.” you mumbled, watching as she smiles and grabs the spoon; greedily gulping down the soup.

Abby may be big and muscular, but she’s a cute, gentle girl under all that strength. and you love her both ways. and you’re glad you made a whole pot of soup.

#abby anderson #abby x you #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby tlou #abby the last of us #abby x y/n #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x f!reader #lesbian #tlou 2 #tlou 2 abby #abby and lev #the last of us part 2 #abby fluff #muscle mommy abby #girls like girls #abby tag #the last of us part two #tlou x reader #tlou x female reader #abby anderson the last of us 2 #abby anderson tlou2 #tlou x you #tlou x y/n #ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝟐𝐤+ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 ! #tlou fic

[abigails-gf]

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

abby anderson x f!reader.

warnings: reader has self-h*rm scars.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@lesbian-useless

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson x f!reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson tlou #abby tlou #tlou fic #abby the last of us

[mariposa-drowned]

Abby x injured!reader fluff 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Hello lovely! Thank you so much for being my first request! I'm sorry this took so long, I struggled with this one for a bit, and it was stuck in my drafts for longer than I'd like to admit. I know this isn't pure fluff, and I apologize for that, but I do have some period comfort/fluff in the works, so hopefully that makes up for this. I did my best to make this gender neutral aswell, so I hope I did okay:)

Warnings- hurt/comfort, small interaction with icky men, smidge of blood, bad and inaccurate medical descriptions, swearing, reader doesn't like taking medicine, that should be it but if I missed any lmk!

--🤍🖤🏹🤍🖤🏹🤍🖤🏹🤍🖤🏹🤍🖤🏹🤍🖤--

It was a pretty normal patrol day, you had been paired with Abby once again, you were convinced she was tugging some sort of strings to get paired up with you whenever you were out. But you werent complaining. Patrol was almost over, you just needed to check an abandoned convience store on the corner and then you could radio back to be picked up.

It seems that the seraphites had a different idea in mind about that. Before you could even register what was going on, you and Abby had been ambushed just as you were exiting the store. Bows and large rusty guns all pointed your way.

"Well, well look what we have here." one of the men on the front horse said. He looked to the others on horses and spoke again "What do you think men? Should we blow their brains out right here? Or have a little fun with these sinners?"

You looked to Abby, trying not to show the fear on your face and ultimatley failing, you reached to your hip for your gun before feeling Abbys hand covering yours, you looked to her with confusion evident on your face as Abby whispered to you.

"We're outnumbered, I radioed for backup when I heard them coming. Just stay calm for a minute." You trusted Abby with your entire life, so you slowly took your hand away from your hip, taking hold of Abbys hand instead.

You were snapped back to reality as one of the men got off his horse "I don't know, I think the little one would be nice, might take her back huh?" a murmur of agreement was heard from the other seraphites.

Abby gripped your hand harder, trying to gaurd you with her large frame.

"Don't fucking touch them."

"Oh protective one eh? I don't think you're in much of a position to have a say in this, do you?"

You heard a low growl come from Abby. You took a quick look around, trying to figure out what was taking the rest of patrol so long to come get you. Once you were distracted, you felt yourself being ripped away from Abby, the movment catching herself so off gaurd that her grip faultered. You let out a small yelp before your back was pressed against one of the men who had gotten of his horse. His hands digging into your wrist and hip where he held you. You could feel his hot breath on your neck trying to think.

Taking a deep breathe, you did what seemed most reasonable at the moment. You lifted your leg up and kicked backwards, hitting your captor right in the nuts. The man groaned, stumbling back as you tried to run forward back to Abby. You were a mere 5 feet away from her when you felt a searing pain in your leg. Dropping to the ground you let out a louder scream this time, the arrow doing deeper into your leg as you fell.

Abby screamed your name, quickly running to you as the men surrounding you started laughing. Their laughter was cut short though as you heard one of the WLF vehicles pull up, gunshots rang around you as bodies fell to the ground, Abby got close to you, sheilding you with her body. You couldnt help but start crying, you could feel the pain crawling up your leg as you tried to curl in closer to Abby, hoping she would take some of the pain away.

Once the gunshots ceased, you looked up with blurry eyes, seeing people rush towards you, medkit in hand. You could see mel come into view, a grimace on her face before she quickly hid it.

"We need to get them on the truck now, they need to go to the medwing, too much blood loss." Mel hurriedly spluttered out.

Abby nodded, she whispered a quick 'I'm sorry baby' before lifting you up bridal style, you yelled out in pain, a string of curses coming from your mouth as she carried you.

Abby laid you down on the truckbed sitting down next to you. Mel sat down by your leg, trying to asses the damage she got out a tourniquet. You looked to her knowing exactly what that was for and how much it would hurt. You tried to shuffle away, Abby quickly slid behind you, holding you still.

"no no no, Mel please, we really don't need to use that"

Mel gave you an apologetic look before starting to slip the tourniquet around your leg just above where the arrow stayed. You kept spluttering out pleas making pathetic attempts at kicking away, it got you nowhere. This was gonna hurt like a bitch. Mel leaned closer to Abby whispering a small "keep her still, it'll hurt worse if she's moving" Abby nodded at the request, still behind you she took both your arms to cross them over your chest, hugging you tight.

"you're alright angel, doin so good baby, so strong. Just need you to try and be still."

You looked up at her in question, still panicking when you felt the tourniquet start tightening. You screamed out, trying to wiggle out of Abby's iron grip despite her soft words.

You were so tired, and in so much pain, eventually your yelling stopped and you went slack in Abby's arms. She felt for your pulse, elevated, but still okay. She figured it was probably best for you to be unconscious right now anyways.

⁠●●●⁠●●●●●●●⁠●●●●●⁠●●●●●●●⁠●●●●●⁠●●●●●●●⁠●

You woke up feeling extremely groggy, like you were living in a cloud of fog. You tried to sit up, assessing your surroundings only to find you were in yours and Abby's shared space in the stadium. You were tucked into the bed, trapped in a cucoon of yours and Abby's blankets. Abby could see movement from the corner of her eye as she was tidying up the small kitchen.

"Hey my love how you feeling?" Abby walked over to you and sat on the edge of the bed, being cautious of your leg.

"Like I got shot with an arrow." You deadpanned, Abby laughed at your response "what happened? I remember passing out in the back of the truck."

Abby sighed "Well, once we got you back to the med-wing they took out the arrowhead but found that those asshole seraphites dipped it in some sort of natural poison found in plant roots. So they had to come up with a concoction of medicine to help your body process it, but they only had so much to spare. Long story short, you've been out for two days and the poison is likey still in your system and will be for the next few weeks. I've been checking on the wound and it does seem to be healing okay. We've both been given a month off and you're allowed to stay here with me as long as I look after you. Mel said she might still come by for checkups just to be safe though"

You kept your gaze on the blankets that surrounded you trying to process the information.

"I'm gonna be okay though right? We can still go out together?"

Abby could hear the tremble in your voice, she knew you were most likley overwelmed with the surge of information and the pain that you were in. She scooched in a bit closer to hold both sides of your head in her hands.

"You will be okay. You will heal overtime and I will help you in any way I can, we will do this together okay?"

You met Abbys eyes, you knew deep down that you would recover, and everything would eventually go back to normal, but you needed that reassurance. You put your hands over Abbys that currently resided on your face, taking a deep breath and closing your eyes focusing on her touch and how her smell had surrounded you, being redressed in one of her big shirts, her blankets mixed with yours all around.

You enjoyed the moment for several minutes before a sharp stinging pain radiated throughout your leg. Your face twisting into a grimace, Abby took notice of your expression and quickly pulled away from you, muttering under her breath 'be right back baby' you sat there as Abby went to go retrieve whatever. Taking a fistful of the blankets into your hand as you slunk down on the bed into a laying position you could feel the pain getting higher up your leg, letting out a small whimper in response. When she said that there would still be lingering poison she was not kidding at all.

Abbys footsteps neared the bed as she helped you back into a sitting position, her face contorting as she heard your small cries as the pain intesified, she placed her items on the side table and quickly positioned her frame behind yours.

"okay i have something here to help but its gonna taste like shit and burn like bad alcohol goin down okay?" You let out a small sob, Abby shushing you before speaking again "I know angel but it'll help lessen the pain, I have water right here for you afterwards, just need you to take one big gulp of it and you'll be all done." she held up a small bottle to your lips, you tried to take in a deep breathe to prepare yourself for the awful taste, but you would do whatever to stop the nausiating sensation in your leg.

You opened your mouth, Abby taking it as her signal to bring the bottle to your lips. You had to hold back a gag as you tasted the revolting medicine of sorts, squeezing your eyes shut you managed a full swallow before pushing back into Abby signaling yo her you were done. You reached around, searching for the water she had mentioned, wanting to rid the taste from your mouth.

Abby replaced the small bottle with a glass of water, bringing it to your lips and whispering soft praises into the air. You finished the whole glass noticing the pain in your leg had lowered back to a tolerable amount already.

"what the hell was that sin of a drink" Abby laughed at your comment, wrapping her arms around your torso

"Something that Mel and a few others downstairs put together as a morphine like substitute, but it has to be ingested orally unlike morphine which would require an IV. Does it feel any better?"

"I dont feel like tearing my leg off anymore so I guess so. Just aches on my upper leg now, I think I just wanna try and go back to sleep." you yawned through your last statement only proving your point more.

Abbys hand lowered down towards your injured leg as she started softly kneading the fat there trying to soothe the ache you mentioned "I'm fine with you going back to sleep but I need you to eat something first."

You whined at both the mention of eating something right after that horrible "medicine" and from the relief of Abbys hand on your thigh. Before you could protest Abby had shoved a protien bar in your hand. "Just this and I'll massage you til' you fall asleep"

You took the bar with a small grumble, knowing that her hand was currently working magic for your injured leg and you would probably start crying if she stopped. You quickly chomped it down, hearing a hum of approval from Abby. She repositioned you so you were laying on your good side leg, as she remained behind you. Her hands contined to rub on your leg, the other rested under you on your side, giving small squeezes of reasurance every now and then.

She contined her motions until she heard your breathing even out, your body fully relaxing into her as you slipped off into a dreamless state. Abby let herself doze off aswell after making sure you were okay.

Abby startled awake feeling small movements and whimpers of discomfort coming from you. Often times your dreams were riddled with nightmares but she knew that you were just uncomfortable from your body language. She maneuvered your body so you were laying on the matress flat on your back and started lightly kneading a bit further down your leg, trying to help rid your discomfort.

You settled down after a minute or two, waking Abby up a few more times during the night as she helped readjust your body, ultimately propping your leg up on a few pillows. She didn't know if it was doing much, but judging by how you slipped back into sleep so easily, she figured you were comfy enough.

Giving a final kiss on your forehead, she fell asleep with you, interlacing her hand with yours as she joined you in slumber.

#hurt/comfort #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson tlou2 #abby tlou2 #abby x reader #abby x injured!reader #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson tlou #abby anderson x you #tlou abby #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x reader comfort #abby the last of us #abby tlou x reader #Mariposa writes<3

[heartpascal]

masterlist. . .

collection of my writings! more to come… stay tuned

alternatively, read over on my ao3!

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

JOEL MILLER

▹ late spring, f!reader — you and joel didn’t exactly see eye to eye, but things have started to change, at least for you. [2.2K words]

▹ the gold, f!reader — you don’t like the person joel’s become. [2.1K words]

▹ i’ll be brave, platonic!f!reader — an infected attack leaves you fragile, in more ways than one. [2.4K words]

▹ i am good, platonic!f!reader — joel finally sees the darkness in himself reflected in you. [2.4K words]

▹ the crooked kind, platonic!f!reader — you were sarah’s best friend, and you reunite with joel years after outbreak day. [2.5K words]

▹ the tunnel, platonic!f!reader — joel gets hurt, and in the face of losing the only person you have left, something inside of you breaks. [2.7K words]

▹ to an empty house, niece!reader — tommy hasn’t been your dad for a very long time. [3.0K words]

↳ something is rotten, niece!reader — part two, arriving in jackson brings painful feelings, and even worse conversations. [4.0K words]

▹ so far from it, platonic!f!reader — you get yourself into some trouble, luckily, you know who to call for help. [2.3K words]

▹ all my faith, platonic!f!reader — joel and tess raised you, in a moment of anger, he nearly loses you. [5.3K words]

▹ if the door wasnt shut, platonic!f!reader — months of travelling with joel and ellie come crashing down on you, the fear is suffocating. [5.1K words]

↳ i would let you in, platonic!f!reader — part two, after being abandoned in jackson, tommy and maria take care of you. joel and ellie’s return hurts far more than their departure. [7.5K words] ↳ lock it when you leave, platonic!f!reader — part three, tensions rise in jackson, leaving you scrambling to find your place. [6.9K words] ↳ check under the doormat, platonic!f!reader — part four, settling down fully in jackson means new friends and more patrols. what could go wrong? [9.7K words] ↳ you’ll find the key, platonic!f!reader — part five, after feeling hopeless, you decide it’s time to heal [10.5K words]

↳ please don’t lose it again, platonic!f!reader — a what if one shot, the aftermath, set in tlou part two [2.7K words]

▹ the world is brighter, platonic!f!reader — joel is trying to be someone he’s not. [13.0K words]

▹ weight too heavy to hold alone, platonic!reader — joel’s life in jackson is much more complicated than he thought it’d be [4.0K words]

↳ hoping there’s somewhere to go, platonic!reader — you try to navigate life after the rejection of the only family you’d ever had [3.9K words] — Recent Work!

▹ break beneath the weight, platonic!reader — joel struggles to deal with someone who isn’t as emotionally constipated as he is [3.9K words]

▹ carved over the door, platonic!reader — you’ve been hiding something, and joel finally finds out what. his reaction is… not what you expected [2.1K words]

▹ forgive the sea, platonic!reader — after a trip to the outside world, you come back different [3.0K words]

▹ when the sun goes down, platonic!f!reader — joel doesn’t talk about you, until he does [3.6K words]

▹ the sun was collapsing, platonic!reader — joel thought you moving to a college halfway across the country would be the worst thing to happen to his family [6.6K words]

▹ fight the tide, platonic!reader — you face the consequences of going to seattle, set in tlou 2 [3.3K words]

▹ i was born waiting, daughter!reader — you’ve been looking for your dad for as long as you can remember, is this really him? [8.1K] — Newest Work!

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

TOMMY MILLER

▹ be your armour, platonic!seraphite!reader — after escaping the seraphites, you find that the world is not as they described it. [9.2K words]

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

SPIDERVERSE

▹ is it freedom?, platonic!reader — after losing everything, you struggle to accept the one thing you needed all along [8.0K words]

↳ or is it loneliness?, platonic!reader — you need closure, and information. two visits kind of give you that [9.2K words]

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

. . .check out howl’s song association!

and my platonic joel miller recs!

#heartpascal #masterlist #heartpascal masterlist #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller imagines #joel miller x reader #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #tlou imagines #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal fluff #heartpascal writes

[annie-creates]

Finally home

Pairing: Abby Anderson x reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 1400

Note: So this is my 30th fic and it's also the first day of spring so I wanted to put out this little thing that's been living in my head rent free lately. It is far from the fandoms I normally write for but here we are. I'm warning you the events of the game are kinda swithed around to fit the story. I hope you'll like it anyway.

Life hasn’t been easy on you. From the moment your mother sent you to a Firefly base when you were still just a child, you had to fight and fend for yourself. Earning everything you had, contributing to be fed, helping to have a place to sleep, growing up has been tough. And still you could thank heavens you were placed with the Fireflies who protected you and took care of you in the apocalypse. You imagined the worst thing that could happen to someone was to be left alone. You had friends amongst the other children, adults who brought you up, and Abby.

Abby was never too close nor too far from you, having closer friends but always keeping an eye out for you. You were inseparable back in the Salt Lake City, and even when your group disbanded, you followed her anywhere she wanted to go, your next refuge being the WLFs. You never questioned her, never doubted her decisions. Not until she killed Joel Miller. You understood, Abby’s dad being the closest thing you had to your own, but even after she leveled the score, the hunger for revenge didn’t settle. The more ruthless she became the more you drifted apart.

All the tension or fondness was lost in the days and weeks she spent away hunting down members of Ellie’s group. If you were once friends, now you were hardly two people who used to know each other. Yet you never lost your hope in her, believing she’ll come to her senses and actually live her life focused on herself and not the blood of others. The rumors of Fireflies regrouping gave you hope. You’d finally find a home again together.

“Abby please, fuck this WLF shit and let’s just go back.” You reasoned with her, when you met by luck after another few months not hearing from each other.

“I still have shit to do here.” She argued unwavering in her stance.

“Like what? We both know Isaac’s plan is trash.” You furrowed your brows at her.

“Just because you’re not at the top of the game doesn’t mean everyone else is dumber than you Y/n.” She scoffed at you.

“Excuse me, I don’t give a shit what ranking he gave to anyone!” You folded you hands over your chest.

“Yeah yeah, just because you’re low. Don’t pretend you wouldn’t like being a commander.” She taunts you.

“Now you’re just being mean. You know I don’t give a fuck about that.” You weren’t going to let her off that easily this time.

“You’re just jealous. Go run back to the Fireflies where you’re cared for like the lost puppy you are and leave the real job to the big girls.” She levels you with a look of cruelty and disdain.

“Fine. But don’t run back to me when you get lost again.” Shaking your head you leave to pack your backpack so you can have a head start for when the WLF finds out you’re a traitor.

You didn’t give a shit anymore for any one of them, you didn’t want to join any petty fights for territory of supplies. You wanted to live as close to a normal person as anyone could and maybe, just maybe try and help save the world somehow, or make it just a little bit better. You couldn’t do that at the WLF, but with the Fireflies you could at least try. They weren’t saints, but in comparison to the WLF and Seraphites they were your safest option. Maybe it was finally time to let Abby go her way after the countless times you tried to save her from the fate she was choosing for herself.

As you’re packing to leave, you hear Abby in an argument with Mel. You didn’t want to eavesdrop, but you simply couldn’t help yourself. “You’re a piece of shit, Abby.” Is all you can make out before Mel slams the door and you leave in fear of being discovered watching their moment. You didn’t agree, but you couldn’t argue against it either. The more time passed on the more questionable choices Abby was making. The last thing you wanted to do was abandon Abby, yet that’s what she was continuously forcing you to do. Maybe you needed to listen to your own advice and start focusing on your own life instead of others.

While she runs off to do god knows what with god knows who, you travel to the Catalina Island alone. It was a loose thread, but it was still a better shot than nothing. Plus it wasn’t like you could turn back and crawl back to the WLF begging for their forgiveness, if there even was any WLF anymore. And to your luck, the Fireflies excitedly accept you back, happy to regain one of Anderson’s medical students you used to be back in Salt Lake City before your mission to save the population and find a cure went to trash. For months you watched out for any rumors of tracks of Abby but all the leads run cold. The group couldn’t contact her even when she made a contact with them some time after you joined, promising to arrive in a few days. But few days turned into months and Abby Anderson was considered lost and dead, even though no one talked about it or mentioned it.

Until you found her. She and one of the new boys she met, Lev, in a boat arrived at the island in a pitiful state of barely living. Being part of the medical team now, you treated their injuries and took care of nursing them back to health. While you left Lev to be watched over by the team, you couldn’t stand leaving Abby in such cold and unwelcoming place unknown to her. So you took her to rest in your own apartment not too far away, laying her down on your washed out pillows but in warm sheets and clean duvets none the less.

“Y/n.” She states with a horse voice she clearly hasn’t used for some time.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you now.” You assure her cleaning her bleeding wounds.

As she falls back into her delirious dreams you treat her injuries dressing them up in a clean white gauze, finding many new cuts and bruises, some of which you could hardly imagine what caused them. Even her face was littered with wounds deep enough to leave a nasty scar. She lost a noticeable amount of muscle and her once toned arms seemed weaker now cover in blood. Her dirty blonde hair you often braided for her were messily cut off too short and covered in layers of dirt and soil.

“Hey, you need to drink something.” You carefully wake her up to get her started back on some fluids as soon as possible.

“Hmh...” She clearly wanted to say something but she hardly had the energy to even stay conscious.

“Don’t, it’s gonna be okay. Everything’s going to be okay.” You pacify her after you half force some water into her.

“Don’t leave!” She catches your arm weakly with the most scared and vulnerable look you’ve ever seen on her.

“I won’t.” you assure her as you lay down in bed next to her, careful not to touch any of her wounds to not cause her any more discomfort or pain.

“Just hold me.” Abby pleads with you, but she didn’t have to ask you twice.

“I’ve got you. You’ll be okay.” You comfort her as you stroke her short hair and hold her shivering shoulders. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“I’m sorry.” Abby whines halfway unconscious again.

“Don’t be. You’re home. You are cared for.” You whisper to her as you rock her weakened body back to sleep.

You give her a little kiss into the crown of her hair. She was still the most beautiful and precious thing to you, no matter her crimes and punishments. It will grow back eventually. Her injuries will heal, and all of this will become just a faded memory over time. You’ll help her fight off any scarecrows and demons of her past, in her dreams and in the reality. She was finally back, and you won’t ever let her leave again. You both already lost too much in your hunt for revenge and justice. You finally found your home.

#abby anderson #abby anderson fluff #Abby anderson hurt #abby anderson comfort #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us part 2 #the last of us 2 #fanfic #fanfiction

[whore-era]

a/n: 'reader experiencing ptsd symptoms and not knowing what they are or what they're going through until ellie finds them mid panic after something triggers them. soft and comforting ellie my beloved <;3' this drabble is for this anon. this anon also put in my inbox a lil bit more detail of this request — including their own ptsd episode they experienced, which i didn't feel comfortable posting to the public for ppl to see. so this one is dedicated u to anon! & anyone else who is experiencing something similar, i hope this drabble gives u a lil bit of comfort <3

ellie x fem!reader: comforting you during a PTSD episode

tw: ptsd, ptsd-related symptoms, mentions of violence (guns/gunshots)

ringing.

all you could hear was ringing in your ears. then, you froze.

you completely forgot where you were, what you were doing, who you were with — until you heard it. the gunshot.

one, singular gunshot brought back a memory you tried your hardest to forget, the memory of the night you tried to run from scars — the seraphites.

you usually never went with ellie on patrol, for this very reason. the sounds of guns petrified you, and it wasn't something you were ready to explain to your girlfriend just yet.

but jesse and ellie were going out, and you wanted so badly to look for pumpkin seeds, which were hard to come by in jackson. so, you thought you'd tag along with them, thinking you'd be okay knowing they usually dealt with the infected with knives anyways.

somehow, jesse's knife got lost, and he had to use his shotgun to take down two of the infected.

the ringing in your ears never stopped and you were glued to the ground, your breathing slowing down.

"babe! babe!" a hand waved in your face, and you were snapped out of your lost thought. jesse and ellie were in front of you, their brows furrowed in worry.

"you're trembling, baby," ellie holds onto your arms, "are you okay?"

nothing came out. your mouth unable to speak.

"i think we should cut patrol short. get her back into town." jesse murmurs to ellie. ellie nods, putting an arm around you and leading you to shimmer, helping you get on.

ellie gets on behind you, wrapping her arms around you as she holds onto shimmer's leads.

she couldn't help but notice the way you quivered the entire ride back to town, or how clammy your skin became.

it wasn't long 'til you all made it back. you could hear the bustling and voices chatting, wondering why the patrol ended so early or why you looked like you'd just seen a ghost. jesse was generous enough to explain things to others, coming up with something quick and believable to get them off your back.

ellie helped you off the horse, letting one of the stable-boys take shimmer. her arms were wrapped tightly around you as she walked with you the whole way back home, kissing your hair and murmuring sweet nothings in your ear.

"i'm here, sweet girl. i'm not goin' anywhere," she whispers, "you're okay. i got you."

her words couldn't register in your mind, as you were too distracted by the memories that would play on and off in your brain. it was like you were back there all over again, fearing for your life.

ellie unlocked the front door of the house, gently pushing you inside with her hand on the small of your back. leading you towards your shared bedroom, she sits you on the bed.

everything else went by like a blur. all you could remember was ellie helping you take your clothes off, putting you in a sleep shirt, and helping you sip a little bit of water — then everything faded to darkness.

you were running. running away from the hooded beings — the scars. you could hear them yelling. you heard their feet following behind you. you hid behind a tree and crouched down, clamping a hand over your mouth to muffle your heavy breathing. one of the seraphites come out from the side, pointing a gun at you and putting their finger on the tri—

"no! no! no!" you shoot up, waking up from your sleep, covered in sweat and shaking in fear with tears streaming down your face.

a hand touches your shoulder, startling you, "please! let me go! let me go! i don't want to di-"

ellie grabs your face, forcing you to look at her. "baby! look at me! it's just me," she brings you back down to earth. "i'm here. no one else. just me and you."

you focus on everything around you. ellie's face. her green eyes. her freckles. the darkness outside the windows. the clock reading 4:37AM. the duvet sprawled out on the bed. the polaroids of you and ellie scattered on the wall.

you were in jackson. in your home. with ellie. no one else.

you burst into tears, sobbing into ellie's neck. you were terrified. you thought you were back there, and that you never escaped. it felt so real to you. everything came back so clearly.

"it's okay, baby. i'm here." she coos, "you're safe."

you're safe. you were safe. you weren't there anymore. you were here. with ellie. and ellie was going to do everything in her power to make sure you were okay.

"i-i.." you stutter, "i thought i-i was b-being h-hunted, t-that they f-found—" a tear rolls down your cheek, "—i-i thought they found me."

"you don't have to-" you interrupt ellie.

"no," you sniffle, "i have to get it off my chest. i'm safe now." she nods, allowing you to continue.

"i was just out patrolling one day, for the small group i was with. we needed food. and then i found them, the scars. i saw them just— doing these horrible things to people," you whisper, "and the next thing i knew, they saw me. they chased me and were hunting me down. luckily, i got away. but i could never forget about the way the bullets almost got me." a few tears cascaded down your face, ellie taking the liberty of wiping them away.

"i am so, so sorry, baby." ellie's heart squeezed in her chest, wishing she could've protected you then, knowing she'd fucking kill every last person who touched even lay a finger on your hair. her hand went to cup your face, wiping away the tears with her thumb as you nuzzled into her hand.

"i wish i can make you forget— forget that you ever went through that, even if it meant i'd have to remember it instead," ellie murmured, "but i can't."

ellie brings you closer to her, "all i can do right now is protect you. i promise i will make sure you're safe. put it on my life."

she leans in, her forehead resting against yours, "you'll never have to be scared again, i promise you that, sweet girl." her lips press onto yours, before pulling away again.

you nod, for the first time in awhile, trusting that you'll be okay, knowing that ellie is with you and that you'll never have to be alone.

"okay, els," you hum, "but i don't think i can go back to sleep again. i'm just scared i'm gonna have another nightmare and i don't think i can ha-" she cuts you off.

"okay, pretty girl. we'll stay up 'til the sun comes up and i'll tell jesse that you and i are gonna stay in tomorrow, yeah?" ellie kisses your forehead, "i'm not gonna leave you alone. i'll be here with you. i promise."

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams tlou #the last of us #the last of us ellie #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams angst #ellie x reader hc

[sweetercalypso]

Tan Lines - Abby comes home to find you sunbathing and fucks you in the yard (smut)

Uncharted Territory - Stranded on patrol with the person you hate most, there’s not much to do besides fuck out your feelings (smut)

New Gods - The first time Abby meets seraphite!reader, she shows her mercy. The second time they meet, reader repays her kindness (smut)

Knife’s Edge - when reader gets lost inside a haunted house, ghostface!Abby takes her to the backroom (smut) (week of horror series)

Affectionate roommate!Abby headcanons

Med student!Abby hcs

Abby’s trophy wife drabble

Rival lawyer Abby drabble

Abby with a crybaby gf drabble

Doing face masks with gf Abby drabble

Domestic life with Abby drabble

Reader gives Abby smutty Polaroids drabble

Abby gives reader smutty Polaroids drabble

Gamer!gf Abby hcs

Actress!reader + bodyguard!Abby drabble

Bodyguard!Abby + face riding

More gamer!Abby thoughts

Roommate!Abby and her housewife

Abby sees your sketches of her drabble

‘Does Abby like massages?’ drabble

Biting Abby drabble

Abby using reader’s come to finger herself drabble

Abby taking reader to the aquarium drabble

Abby in a suit drabble

Bodyguard!Abby in the back of the limo

Grabbing Abby by the tie for a kiss drabble

Abby in a skirt drabble

Sleepy sex with Abby drabble

#masterlist #Abby Anderson

[infernalodie]

𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐏𝐭.𝟐 || 𝐀𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧

"𝘐𝘧 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘒𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘥"

Inspo: Jacob Banks - Devil That I Know Sabrina Claudio - Frozen

Pairing: Abby Anderson x Black!Fem!reader

Summary: Trouble in paradise...

Warning: Fluff with angst at the end.

Part One - Finale

Words: 4829

The love you had felt a day ago had been deeply invested in the soil of your mind. Roots interweaved and twisted until they met one solid structure that stood strong and tall. Supplied with nutrients that were needed; love and care.

That was what love stood for and represented. Something strong, unmoving, and beautiful. Yet, in less than 24 hours, Ellie’s actions had been able to break that tree down to a rotting, hollow trunk. The roots able to retract and give supply to another tree had done so. Leaving the remaining ones to stand still as a flame burnt them to a crisp.

She’d done that. She’d managed to bring a firestorm to what was fine and unique and destroy it. A burnt forest left to take what was once beautiful.

You were broken. Sadly, that was a truth you had admitted when Issac had you locked up once more. Left to craft a makeshift bandage from the wound in your leg and just wait. Wishing there was some way you could alleviate the weight in your chest.

Abby hadn’t said anything to you after you gave her the info she needed. Truthfully, you were too exhausted and hurt to care either. All you cared about was sleep and hopefully being allowed to leave this cell soon.

“We shouldn’t have left her as we did.” Dina’s words shook the auburn-haired girl from her empty stare. Turning her head to the other to find her sitting up from the couch, still feeling the sickness from her pregnancy. “Maybe it was a mistake for me to ever tell you how I felt. If it saved me from feeling the weight I do, I would’ve kept everything to myself.”

Ellie chewed on her bottom lip, shaking her head as she replayed those few moments. A large vent pinning your foot and restricting your movements. And when the foul screech of a Clicker sounded, silencing the trio, raising the anxiety in their bodies. It all just happened so fast. You were trapped. If they tried to do anything, they would’ve been dead as well. Then this would’ve all been for nothing, and Ellie couldn’t have that.

But maybe she was just saying that to herself to justify the purpose of her selfish decision. An argument could be made that she felt something for Dina and everything between you two had been fizzling out like water to sugar. But that would also mean her having to admit she led you on because she had. And maybe this was the easiest way for her to non-verbally tell you that things were different now.

“She’s dead, Dina,” Ellie finally spoke, turning her head half-heartedly toward the ill girl. But ever meeting her guilty eyes. “She knew what she was signing up for when she came along.”

Dina pursed her lips, wiping away the tears that slid down her cheeks. “But you aren’t acknowledging the obvious, Ellie,” she pointed out. “She was your girlfriend and you chose me over her. Do you not feel any guilt over that?”

Licking her lips, Ellie reached over and took Dina’s hand. “All I know is that I chose the girl that I love.”

The city streets were quiet. Way too quiet for Abby. There was the occasional conversation with Manny and Mel, but not enough to ease her cautious awareness that they were out in the open and a perfect target for the Seraphites.

Hearing a quiet grumble behind her, she peeked over her shoulder to see you holding your stomach. “Do you want me to carry your pack?” She inquired, surprising herself with how soft the question was.

But you raised your hand, exhaling heavily. “If we get in a firefight, I need you to shoot. The pack helps keep me planted when I’m firing,” you pointed out, able to spare a faint smile toward the girl. “But a shot of Vodka might be good right now.”

Abby smiled, placing a large hand on your lower back as the both of you moved up the steps of the old warehouse that stored a boat. “When we get to the F.O.B., I’ll be sure to get you that shot.”

It’d been some time since you were locked in that cage. Since you had to piss in a bucket or eat food off the dirty floor. But since then, your intelligence of Ellie and Dina had convinced Issac to task you with Abby for patrols or any deployments. And it wasn’t like you saw any choice in the matter. You couldn’t be banking on some sort of hope that someone would storm the stadium, kill everyone and save you. It was unrealistic. So, you did the thing you were good at. You helped people. You helped Nora and Mel where you could and stayed in that cell with the addition of a dirty mattress until Issac trusted you enough to go out on patrols.

And now, with everyone being called to the front, you were deemed needed for whatever came next. Abby reassured you, seeing this as a way to earn your keep and be considered a part of the WLF. But you knew full well where Manny stood with your presence now added to the group.

In fact, many people were indifferent about your contributions to the force. You were a doctor and started aiding the wounded from attacks then you were going on small skirmishes with fellow WLF soldiers. But they were simply waiting for the moment they could put a bullet in your back.

You held no particular fond spot in anyone’s mind. You were an anomaly. Walking a lonely highway hoping to find a new place to call home.

That’s why you stuck to yourself when moving with the trio. Mel tried to strike up some sort of conversation, but you kept your mouth shut. And you kept your eyes averted whenever Manny wished to show you his distaste for you accompanying them. Abby was really the only person you were willing to spend time with and talk to. She was the only person not looking to tear your head off. She taught you how to properly handle their rifles and taught you what you needed just in case something were to happen out in the field.

She was your only friend.

Moving through the warehouse and moving down a slope leading to a few box carts where you took notice of voices further down the tracks. With the density of bushes and tall grass, the approach was made easy, but the execution of taking the Serphaites down wasn’t. You are stuck near Abby, not trusting yourself on your own. And once she killed the first and Manny killed the second, the Seraphites took notice. Then all hell broke loose.

Gunfire sounded throughout the overgrown enclosure with you seeking refuge inside of a box cart. Taking pot shots and beginning to feel the ache in your shoulder from the recoil of the rifle. Mel, Manny and Abby handled the situation like pros. Taking one down after another until the only sound to be heard was your panting. Adrenaline coursing through your system.

“All clear!” Abby announced, shouldering her rifle. “You good?” Abby inquired, appearing from behind cover and walking toward you.

With a sheepish nod, you hopped out of the box cart and followed behind the group. Climbing up a mound of dirt and onto a broken landing that held a gate ahead of them.

Walking over, Abby pushed against one of the sides and created big enough of a gap the chain would allow. “Through here.” Abby moved out of the way, allowing you to step through first before she followed and the other two did the same.

The moment you stepped through, barely able to take account of your surroundings, a distinct whistle sounded. And before you could respond, a hand grabbed the back of your pack and yanked you inside the gas station just as the sound of gunfire appeared. Bullets whizzing past you, the wall behind the front register was slowly becoming riddled with bullets. The trio were quick to return fire and keep the Seraphites off of them for as long as they could.

But you were stuck with that constant tremble in your joints. Much like when you had your first run-in with the cult, you couldn’t pull the trigger. This fieldwork wasn’t where you belonged. You preferred being stuck inside a tent smelling like metal and injured bodies all around you. That was when you were in your zone. But this? This shit isn’t ever going to be where you exceed.

By the time the gunfire stopped, you were already being hoisted to your feet. Faced to look at all the dead bodies of cultists, which were a lot more than you were expecting. They had the upper hand, the same firepower and large able bodies. But you were beginning to discover the pattern with Abby that she was practically invincible and a lot better than most people in this day and age were capable of being.

“We got wounded in the truck. Mind giving us a hand with that, outsider?” The title had stuck rather quickly in the short amount of time of you being “recruited” into the WLF. Everyone didn’t call you by your name or consider you a human being. If anything, you were a dog on a leash, being tugged along by Issac to do as he ordered. Because if you weren’t going to give him any info on Ellie or Dina, then he would make you useful.

Nodding, you followed into the truck after Manny. Moving to the center relinquishing your pack and quickly pulling out some gauze. Glancing up at the injured WLF soldier, he was shot right through the hand. Nothing that could limit his capabilities to work, but it would make him have to put down the rifle for a few weeks at best.

“Hold your hand out for me. This isn’t going to hurt, but bear with me, all right?” The man nodded, straining as you began to wrap the gauze around the wound. “You might think this part is the worst, but I’m going to need you to squeeze this as hard as you can.” Placing the roll of gauze in his hand, you slipped back into the seat behind you and sighed. Holstering your rifle and securing it whilst ejecting the round from the chamber. Out of everything Joel taught you and what you picked up, it was never wrong to make sure a gun was extra safe.

“You froze.” Lifting your gaze, you found Manny staring at you with almost a look of empathy. It was new coming from him. Constant badgering and snide remarks were all you got from the man. “In the train yard and gas station. You froze.”

It took you a moment, letting out a breathy laugh as you nodded sheepishly. “I’m not good with guns.”

“That’s hard to believe considering how you discharged your weapon.” He motioned to the rifle in your grasp. “Who taught you that?”

With pursed lips, you looked down. “Joel. Joel Miller.” That created a riveting silence amongst the “Salt Lake” group that stared at you. Still, the vivid imagery of that night still haunted Abby to this day. And to think that you travelled all the way here with your ex and a friend to kill her and everyone there that killed Joel was hard to grasp. She guessed this was some sort of act of torture. Forcing her to see the pain she indirectly caused with her decision. “But my father taught me how to handle a rifle–the basics, you know? His father taught him since he was a Vet before the world went to shit and whatnot. But Joel taught me to how to shoot, how to clean a gun, and how to kill someone.”

For the rest of the ride, the group was silent and you enjoyed it. Often, you felt like the outcast during most conversations with Abby’s group. The point being; they killed a close friend of yours. So, it wasn’t like you could talk about getting beers or having a barbeque with them. Instead, you would stand there in silence and only talk when someone attempted to converse with you. So, the silence was slowly becoming your best friend each day.

Arriving at the F.O.B., you hopped off the truck and assisted the injured man and Mel off. But it wasn’t long before a man came running over. “Hey, Outsider! Issac wants you in his office, pronto!”

Abby smiled. “No rest for the wicked, huh?” She teased.

You scoffed, nudging her softly. “I’ll see you up there?”

“You can count on it.” You smiled once more at the woman, feeling your guys’ gaze linger on one another a moment too long before you turned. Cheeks warm as you followed the soldier through the front barracks of the base.

From the gate, WLF soldiers were piled up under tents to avoid the sun. Some were working with faulty weaponry and supplying ammo, assisting with teammate’s gear. Others were working on battle plans and zones occupying Serphite forces. And in the center was where the fresh scent of food caught your senses. Men and women seated on dirty benches feasting on one of the few meals they could get in a day. It made you wish you got to stay back at the stadium. At least then you got to eat some fruit and not starve.

Entering the central compound, the dim lighting of fires blossoming from barrels did very little to give you a view of the interior. It wasn’t until you reached the lobby made into a jail of sorts that you could see clearer. The backup generators set up outside gave the fluorescent lights power with them occasionally flickering. But your eyes shifted to the prisoners. Seraphites and outsiders. All of them sitting in their own piss and shit. The sight of it was more enlightening than disgusting because you were in their place a mere few days ago. You were sleeping on concrete in your own filth. The only difference was Abby had specifically requested that you be given a bucket. The point was, seeing it from the outside gave you insight into what you must’ve looked like. And safe to say, you weren’t planning on it ever happening again.

Riding the elevator up to the office, the soldier opened the door for you. But you found no sign of Issac and as if the man was reading your thoughts, he said, “He’ll be up shortly.” And he left without hearing your response. Leaving you in a cleansing silence that you slowly eased back into. Collapsing onto a counter and staring out the window. The sunset hit your face nicely and allowed itself to warm you from the cold inside the office.

It took a few minutes, but Issac soon arrived. But when he entered, he turned around and stopped Manny and Abby. “The both of you wait outside.”

You frowned, sliding off the counter and looking past your leader at a confused Abby who looked like she wanted to protest but was stopped by the door closing on her.

Issac then turned to you. “Y/n,” he sighed, walking to his desk. “I heard you’ve been a great help at the Stadium.”

“Um, yes, sir. I’ve been picking up jobs where I can.” You hated these types of conversations with the man. It wasn’t too long ago that he had you tied to a chair and was extracting information from you. Cutting you up and probably was planning on doing worse. But you hated how intimidating he could be at times. You weren’t the confrontational type and he solidified it with his constant hollow demeanor.

“That’s good. Good.” Lifting up a paper, he waved it with a smile, scoffing to himself. “This job is going to kill me.”

“What can I do, sir?” You asked, taking a step.

He sighed, turning to sit on the edge of the desk, crossing his arms over his chest. “In the next coming days, I’m going to need you to stay here.”

The order nearly made you laugh. But finding his expression unchanging, you felt your own smile slowly drop. “May I ask why, sir?”

“We’re staging an assault against the Seraphite’s island and when we come back, I’m going to need a medic ready to patch our soldiers-”

“Is Abby going, sir?” The question slipped without much thought being put into it. Judging by the look on Issac’s face, he wasn’t exactly expecting it either. But he’d seen and heard about the two of you. How the both of you were nearly joined to the hip since you were released. He wasn’t sure how his most trusted soldier was able to grow attached to an outsider like you.

But he brushed it off. “This isn’t up for debate, Y/n,” he said. “They go, you stay.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded. “Affirm’, sir.”

“Good.” He turned back toward his desk, saying over his shoulder, “Your room is down the hall. Last door on the left.”

Biting your bottom lip, you walked to the door and swung it open. Finding the two soldiers standing talking to one another. But when they found your defeated expression, their conversation halted. Abby is the one to step forward and place a hand on your shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Sniffling, you nodded, jutting a thumb over your shoulder. “You should go. He’s waiting.” Slipping past her, you were quick to wipe your cheeks as you followed the directions provided by Issac and entered your quarters for the next few days.

You didn’t know why you were crying. You didn’t want to. If anything, you were glad to be out of harm's way. Protecting and saving people was where you excelled. But you couldn’t take a life. No matter the person, it still meant that you were killing a part of yourself to survive. So, shouldn’t you be feeling relief instead of dread?

With a shaky exhale, you hit yourself in the head. “Stop!” The answer to such a simple question was Abby. It felt so wrong to care for her. After everything she’s done, she was supposed to get a bullet in the head or a knife in the stomach. But you hadn’t done what you were tasked with doing when you came to Seattle. That promise to Ellie had fallen through the moment you smiled at Abby. Then again, did you have to keep a promise with someone who couldn’t even keep theirs?

Storing your gear in the corner of the room by the bed, you made quick work to occupy your attention from the daunting thoughts and eventual conversation with Abby. Going into the fridge and pulled out some bread and eggs. Placing a pan on the stove and turning on the burner with butter soon following.

A knock sounded at the door before it slowly peeked open. Abby’s head slipped through the crack, glancing around before finding you standing in front of the stove, cracking open an egg and letting it hit the pan. Its loud sizzle and pops make you step back and look at Abby. “Do you want some?”

She smiled, shutting the door behind her. “Sure.” Walking across the room, she placed her gear with yours before looking around. Eyes staying transfixed on the single bed in the room.

“I’ll sleep on the floor.” You frowned, looking over your shoulder at the girl who was already unrolling her sleeping bag. It made you laugh.

“Scared you won’t be able to keep your hands to yourself, Abby?” You asked, chuckling to yourself.

“I’ve been keeping self-control since I met you, Y/n,” Abby muttered. “But I want you to be  comfortable and I would take up most of the bed.”

“But what if I don’t want to sleep alone?” You inquired a hint of mischievous intent in your voice.

Your arms crossed over your chest as Abby tilted her head slightly, smirking. This game that the two of you have played has been going on since the moment Abby saved you from imprisonment. Or maybe it started a few days after she found you helping Nora and Mel in the medical bay. Either way, it was a cat-and-mouse game that neither of you wasn’t afraid of indulging in. And, at the deepest part in your core, you knew this wasn’t okay. To sleep with the “enemy”. But she was attractive and had been nothing but caring to you since she met you. And maybe you fell for people so easily before looking at the red flags, but you wanted to enjoy life for a little while longer. At least until she left for the attack against the Seraphites. Because if she didn’t come back, you wanted to have one last night with her.

The steam of the stove grabbed your attention once more. Smirking to yourself, you flipped the egg. You could feel her gaze bore into your figure.

And it only took a few moments before you felt her hulking figure press into your back. Her pelvis is flush with your ass and her hands holding your hips. Her finger dipped further, gently pressing into your pelvis. It made you smile.

With her face pressing into the back of your head, you muttered, “If you’re wanting to fuck, then just say so, Abby Anderson.”

“Is it obvious?” Your only response was to gently shake your head, dreadlocks hitting her face, making her laugh.

With a deep guttural groan, Abby spun you around and lifted you onto the counter. A yelp fell from your lips as your hands fell to her shoulders, legs interlocking around her waist. Abby let out a deep sigh, staring up at you with a small smile.

“So, are you going to make the first move or do I have to?”

The two of you laid side by side with one another. You were still trying to capture your breath and savour the taste of Abby’s nectar on your tongue. Gently pressing kisses into her side. Your legs were tangled amongst one another with a bedsheet lazily draped over the both of you to escape the cool breeze that slipped through the window.

A sweet sheen covered your guys’ bodies that didn’t at all seem to bother either of you. If anything, it made the moment seem to carry on a little longer.

Letting out a gentle laugh, Abby sighed. “I’ve never done it with a girl.”

You smirked, rolling onto your stomach and resting on your forearms. “Did I impress?”

Abby grinned, nodding eagerly. “Oh, yeah. You did more than impress.” A soft laugh fell from your lips as you chewed on your nail, shaking your head.

Although you knew there might be some sort of clarity that hits you, making you regret your decision, you still enjoyed it. There had been something primal and intimate with Abby that you forgot what it felt like after months with Ellie. This felt way too different 

“You ever think about running away?” You asked, looking at the taller girl. “

“Where would you want to go?” Abby inquired, staring up at the ceiling.

“Canada sounds nice. I mean, the winter would be shitty, but it’s nothing I’m not used to,” you said.

Abby hummed, eyebrows slightly pinching together in thought. “I think anywhere with you would be nice.”

Your lips rolled, corners pulling upwards as Abby huffed. “Flirting is not my thing, huh?”

A graceful laugh fell from your lips, forehead resting against the other side. “Baby, stick to flexing and being all sexy and flirting won’t ever have to be used.”

Another break of silence took its place with the two of you enjoying one another’s company. Holding one another softly. And it felt true. Like this is where you belonged.

Despite everything that happened leading up to this point, you liked this. It was a simple way of life working with the WLF and you wished this had been what you experienced in Jackson and with Ellie. But there always had to be something relating to Ellie’s pent-up anger and Maria tasking you with patrols. At least now you could do what you had trained yourself to do for years and feel like you might be making a difference.

And Abby made it better.

“I want you to know that I care about you.” Your confession came suddenly and caught Abby off guard. “Like, despite what we both went through. I care about you so fucking much and I know I shouldn’t. But, If I can, I want to be here with you.”

“Then stay.” You looked up at Abby, finding her smiling softly down at you. “I mean, who else is going to wake me up by throwing books at me.”

A laugh fell from your lips as you nodded. “Yeah, I guess I have a role to fulfill, huh?” She smiled, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before leaning back.

But Abby’s smile slowly faltered as she sighed. “I have to go out and find Owen soon. Any WLF soldier that finds him will likely shoot him on sight for what he did.” Despite her saying this, she made no move to start getting ready. She continued to stroke your hip slowly, occasionally reaching around to grab at your ass possessively. In all honesty, she didn’t want to waste any time away from you considering she was going to be putting her life on the line against the Seraphites.

You picked at the fabric of the pillowcase, adjusting your position on your forearms. Pursing your lips, you asked,  “You still love him, don’t you?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t have done this.” Sitting up with her back against the headboard, you adjusted to lay between her legs with your chin resting on her pelvis. “What I and Owen had is history. Young teenage love that faded out. Right now, I’m focused on you. I want to make sure I have something to come back to.”

“The attack on the Seraphites,” you measured your words, almost cautious of what you might say. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I’ll radio you if anything comes up, all right?” She kissed you on the corner of your lips and you nodded. Reach up and grab her ponytail and forcefully tug her back down to meet you fully. Tilting your head and pressing further into the kiss. Only parting with your teeth gently at her bottom lip. Warm breaths intertwined with one another as you looked up at her with those eyes that tempted her to forget Owen for a little longer and spend some more time with you

“Make sure you come back to me.”

It’d been a day or maybe two. It was hard to tell at this point with the workload given to you. What you did know is that there had been little to no communication from Abby. And laying awake in your room, thoughts of the prior night kept you up and wanting more.

In full honestly, it’d been a while since you got laid. Ellie had been rather busy before Joel even passed and most of the time she wasn’t in the mood. So, you had to deal with the pent-up stress and bottled it. Abby helped you release it and always seemed to be ready to give a “helping hand” with your situation.

So, maybe out of desperation, you grabbed your walkie-talkie and held it close. Smiling to yourself as you pressed the button and whispered, “Abby.” There was no response. “Abby, are you there?”

Again there was another long pause, making you realize how late it actually was. Making you sigh, sitting up in your bed with your legs curling into your chest. “I guess you might be sleeping. I’m pretty lonely here. I just wish you were here with me, you know?” You sighed. “I will say that if you don’t make it back to me, I’m going to go to hell and kill you again, all right? Let me know if Owen is alright and when you guys are on your way back.”

Silence filled the void, letting you hope that maybe your words had drifted into your sleepy daze and would be at the back of her mind when she woke. The idea of it made you smile. So, with a sheepish smile and a heat growing across your body, you whispered, “I love you.”

A pause before the radio clicked on with audio.

“Y/n.”

The voice made your body tense up as you stared at the device in horror. A cold chill ran down your spine, shivering as you shakily brought the device close and muttered,

“Ellie?”

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