Azi

✧ chapter 106

✧ 1.8k words

oldercommander!abby x reader

⋆It Feels Like Someone Has Taken Out My Heart.⋆

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⋆ MDNI 18+

**THIS IS AN AU SOME EVENTS IN THIS WILL NOT MATCH THE ORIGINAL GAME STORYLINE**

She came back sooner than you expected.

You ate together in comfortable silence, the bowl warming your hands while she picked absentmindedly at her own food. Usually she filled every quiet moment with conversation, asking what you were reading or whether you wanted to go for a walk later. This time she hardly spoke at all.

You didn't ask why.

Later that evening, you stretched out across the couch while Abby slid an old VHS into the player. The television crackled before settling into a grainy war movie, the colors faded from being watched too many times. She settled beside you, and without thinking you rested your feet across her lap.

The room filled with distant gunfire from the television while her hand drifted lazily over your shin, absentmindedly petting your legs as she watched the screen.

"You know..." you began, your eyes staying on the movie. "You could let me touch you."

She looked away from the television, her brow furrowing in confusion as her hand paused against your calf.

"You do touch me," she replied absentmindedly, giving your leg another gentle stroke as though proving her point.

You rolled your eyes.

"I meant..." You bit back an embarrassed smile before glancing sideways at her. "You could let me take care of you."

Her hand stopped moving.

For a moment she simply stared at you, the sounds of the movie carrying on unnoticed between you.

Then she cleared her throat. "I like the attention being on you," she admitted quietly, dropping her gaze back to your legs as her thumb resumed its slow circles.

You scoffed, though there wasn't much conviction behind it. "Just let me be in charge for once," you said, biting your lip as you shifted upright to face her fully. You searched her face, hopeful despite yourself. "Just once?"

She held your gaze for a long moment before looking away again, the corner of her mouth twitching with the beginning of a smile.

"You never give up, do you?" she murmured, shaking her head with quiet amusement as she reached over to smooth a loose strand of hair away from your face. Her fingertips lingered against your cheek before she sighed. "We'll talk about it when you're healed."

You groaned dramatically, letting yourself fall back against the couch cushions. "That's not the answer I wanted."

A soft laugh escaped her as she looked back toward the television. Her hand found your ankle again, absentmindedly rubbing slow circles against your skin.

"I know," she said with a fond smile. "It's still my answer."

You let out a slow breath and turned toward her, your eyes lingering on the flickering television for another second before they found her face.

"I feel better," you said softly.

She hummed, unconvinced. Her hand slipped from your hip to your stomach, her thumb absently tracing small circles through your shirt while she studied you.

"Want to tell me what happened then?" she asked, tilting her head. Her voice stayed gentle, but there was a quiet determination beneath it. 

You bit your lip.

Her brows pulled together.

The concern in her expression made it harder to keep lying.

With a tired sigh, you rolled onto your back before pushing yourself upright. Your feet slipped from her lap onto the floor, and you rubbed your palms against your pants, buying yourself another second.

"Okay," you murmured. "Let's talk about it."

She nodded immediately.

Without another word, she stood and crossed to the counter, returning a moment later with a worn notebook and a pen. She settled beside you again, angling herself toward you before clicking the pen open.

You picked at a loose thread hanging from your pants. "I went on patrol with Thalia," you began quietly. "We drove pretty far outside the city."

Her pen paused. "You didn't think to mention that to her?" she asked, glancing up from the page.

You closed your eyes with another sigh. "No." You licked your lips before forcing yourself to continue. "I was upset about..." You hesitated. "...about our breakup."

"It wasn't a breakup," she corrected gently, though she was already writing as she spoke.

"Whatever it was," you muttered with a shrug. "I wasn't thinking. I just let her drive."

She nodded, jotting another note onto the page. "Who checked you out at the gate?"

You frowned thoughtfully.  "Dave... I think."

She scribbled the name down. "How long were you driving?"

You leaned back against the couch, trying to reconstruct the day in your head. "More than an hour." A small, humorless laugh escaped you. "Maybe longer. It felt like forever."

You noticed her jaw tighten.

"I thought we were getting weed," you admitted with another shrug.

She didn't react.

Her pen continued moving steadily across the paper. "Was anyone else there?" she asked.

You shook your head. "Just Thalia..." You swallowed before finishing. "...and my sister."

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Okay." She looked down at the notebook again before asking her next question. "Did they say anything to you?"

You nodded. "They wanted me to join them." The memory settled heavily in your chest. "When I said no..." You looked down at your hands. "...they attacked me."

She wrote quietly for another few seconds. "Any Seraphites?"

You shook your head again.

She leaned back slightly, exhaling through her nose. "I'm honestly surprised you managed to take them down."

You rubbed your thumb over your knuckles. "I mostly used my pistol."

She nodded. "The pistol?"

You nodded again.

Another silence settled while she reread what she'd written. "The wounds on their faces..." she said slowly, looking back up at you. "They looked more consistent with a shotgun."

You scoffed quietly. "I was getting to that."

One of her eyebrows twitched.

"I used my pistol first," you explained. "Then I grabbed my sister's shotgun."

She nodded, the tension in her shoulders easing as she added one last note. "Okay." She closed the notebook and rested it beside her on the couch before letting out a slow breath. "I'm glad you're alright."

You shifted a little closer until your knee brushed hers. "Tomorrow..." you said softly, searching her face. "Can I come with you to the hatchery?"

She looked at you for a long moment before a small smile finally returned to her face."Sure," she said. "I think I'd like that." 

You leaned forward until you were on your hands and knees. Slowly, you crawled across the couch toward her, your hands settling on her shoulders as you swung one leg over either side of her thighs. You searched her face for a moment before leaning in and kissing her slowly.

The notepad slipped from her lap and landed on the floor with a soft thud.

Her hands came instinctively to your hips, holding you there as a quiet sound caught in the back of her throat beneath the kiss.

You pulled away only enough to brush your lips across her cheek. Then the other one. Your mouth drifted along her jaw until it found her neck.

She let out a slow breath, her head rolling back as her fingers tightened slightly against your sides.

She shook her head, though she made no move to push you away. "No, Donna," she exhaled, her voice strained. "Fuck." She moaned out.

You paused, pulling back just enough to look down at her. Both of your hands cradled her face, your thumbs resting beneath her cheeks as you searched her blue eyes.

"I miss you when you're out."

She nodded.

"When you leave," you whispered, your forehead nearly touching hers, "it feels like someone reached inside me and carried my heart away." Your breath caught. "The rest of me just... waits for it to beat again." Your eyes drifted to her lips before finding her gaze once more. "I can't move. I can't speak. My eyes barely work." 

Her brows furrowed as she looked up at you. "Okay," she chuckled softly, though the smile never quite reached her eyes.

You kissed her again, deeper this time. “Please.” You whined into her mouth. “Can I have one taste?”

She shook her head slowly. “No…” She exhaled. 

But you dipped your head kissing her neck again. This time as you rolled your tongue you let out a long winded sound. “Please.” You begged again breathlessly. 

She looked up at you with her brows creased and she shifted. “Not tonight.” she exhaled trying to calm herself down. “I need you to stop me.” She closed her eyes. “Please, I can barely hold myself together.” 

You shifted your hips, taking her hand to your ass. “Don’t” You whispered. “Use my body.”

Masterlist

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you don’t have to make your pita but i did (im poor) i cannot give a recipe for that because i just mix flour water sugar salt and yeast till its a dough

lentil meat:

boil red lentils in stock or bouillon cube till tender overcooking them like i did if you want (i forgot about it and the bottom burned)

put in blender with spices (i use a west asian meat spice blend from the grocery store), onion, garlic, and a little water and oil. (you will have to shake your blender it should be THICK) add salt if you want it

then take parchment paper and sandwich with more oil (you need oil so it doesn’t dry out) then flatten it and roll it up

bake at 350 for 35 mins

make sauce: tahini, lemons, garlic, vegan mayo and salt

make sumac onion (i don’t know if this is right): sumac, parsley, onion, olive brine(i was out of vinegar) (also used my mind)

make pita (or use store bought just not an israeli brand thanks)

take lentil meat out and unwrap, put sauce on pita, then meat, then onion, pickle, and roll

take a pan and heat oil and pomegranate molasses and seal (?) shawarma till crisp

eat

my red light is on

i’m doing hip opener stretches to relax my legs

Professor! Abby Anderson x Reader

Chapter 63 Take my car.

previous chapter

**THIS IS AN AU CHARACTER PERSONALITIES MAY NOT MATCH UP TO CANON**

wc: 3.8k

MDNI 18+

i wrote this half asleep lowkey

Her fingertips drifted absently up and down your arms, the slow rhythm almost enough to lull you to sleep. The fire crackled nearby, filling the room with soft pops that settled into the silence between you. 

You shifted against her, your thoughts wandering until one landed with enough force to pull a smile onto your face. "You know what I want?" you asked, tipping your head back to look at her.

Professor Anderson lowered her chin and brushed a kiss against your hair before meeting your eyes. "What is that?" she asked, the corner of her mouth lifting as though she already expected the answer to be ridiculous.

A quiet laugh escaped you. "A Dr Pepper from the gas station."

She let out an amused breath through her nose, her shoulders shaking faintly. "Is that all?" She tilted her head, studying you for another moment before glancing toward the kitchen. "Do you want to take my car?"

You sat upright so quickly the blanket slid into your lap. "Seriously?" The excitement in your voice made her smile widen.

"I wouldn't have offered if I didn't mean it." She pointed toward the kitchen counter where her keys rested beside a bowl of fruit. "Go ahead."

You climbed off the couch, already shuffling toward the counter before she stopped you.

"Oh." She reached into the pocket of her slacks, pulled out her wallet, and slipped a twenty-dollar bill free. "Here." She held it out between two fingers. "Get me a Snickers."

You accepted it with a grin. "Okay." Your smile only grew wider. "Thank you."

Before you could leave, she caught your hand gently. Her fingers wrapped around yours for only a moment, but her expression turned unexpectedly serious. "Drive carefully."

You nodded. "I will."

The garage door groaned overhead as you pressed the wall button, cool evening air spilling inside while the opening widened. You climbed into the driver's seat, adjusted it slightly, and slid the key into the ignition. The engine rumbled awake beneath your hands, vibrating softly through the steering wheel.

You backed slowly into the driveway.

It felt wonderful.

For a few quiet minutes, you let yourself imagine a different future. 

College would end. 

You'd find a job.

Your degree would become more than sleepless nights and borrowed textbooks. One day, you'd have your own real  paycheck with your name printed across it. You'd be able to buy groceries without checking your bank balance first. Maybe you'd have enough to help with the bills instead of always feeling guilty for needing help yourself. The future stretched out before you in small, ordinary dreams that suddenly felt enormous.

You smiled to yourself as the tires hummed against the pavement. The engine purred beneath your hands while the highway unfurled ahead, bordered by dark pines that swallowed the last traces of daylight. For a few peaceful miles, it was easy to believe your life had finally begun moving toward somewhere better.

The sharp vibration of your phone shattered the quiet.

Your smile faded as your eyes dropped to the screen glowing inside the cup holder.

Marnie.

The sight of her name pulled the warmth from your chest as quickly as it had arrived. Marnie never called without a reason. She preferred texting, filling your phone with little updates and blurry pictures whenever she missed you. A phone call meant urgency.

At least it wasn't your mother.

You swallowed the thought before it could spiral into something darker. Keeping one hand on the wheel, you reached toward the glowing screen, accepted the call, and tapped the speaker button as the highway stretched endlessly ahead.

"Ruby?" Your little sister's voice came through the speakers, small and trembling.

You swallowed. "Hey, Mar." Your own voice softened instinctively. "What's going on?"

She sniffled loudly before answering. "I miss you." Her voice cracked on the last word.

You tightened your grip on the steering wheel. "I miss you too." You forced a small laugh that fooled neither of you. "How's everything?"

Marnie let out a bitter scoff. "Not good." You heard her wipe at her face before she continued. "You already know."

You closed your eyes for the briefest second at a stoplight. "Yeah." The word barely left your mouth.

She drew a shaky breath. "Can you come see me?" The question hung between you. "I could use my sister right now."

Your throat closed.

You loved Marnie more fiercely than you knew how to explain. You would've crossed the country for her.

But home wasn't simply a place.

You shook your head even though she couldn't see you. "I'm sorry." The apology felt painfully inadequate. "I've got exams coming up." You laughed weakly, trying to make the excuse sound less cruel. "And..." You stared through the windshield. "I don't have the money."

Before Marnie could answer, raised voices burst through the speaker. The sudden shouting was muffled at first, as though the phone had been pressed against her chest, but your mother's voice cut through the chaos almost immediately. Even distorted by the speaker, you recognized that sharp, familiar anger.

"Mom, stop—"

Marnie's protest broke off halfway through the sentence. You heard hurried footsteps, the rustle of fabric, and the scrape of the phone changing hands. A second later, the line steadied, and your mother's breathing filled the silence before she spoke.

Then your mother's voice replaced hers. "So you hang up on me," she spat, "but not Marnie?"

"She called me." You kept your voice quiet, hoping calm might keep the conversation from turning into another fight.

The argument swelled until it drowned out every other sound. Your mother's voice crashed over Marnie's, each sentence louder than the last, while Marnie tried to speak through sobs that kept catching in her throat. A bitter laugh cut through the shouting, followed almost immediately by another cry.

The voices tangled together until they became impossible to separate. Anger, laughter, pleading, weeping, they blurred into one familiar noise, the same chaos that had echoed through your childhood home for as long as you could remember.

You pulled into the gas station while the argument continued through your speakers, the bright white canopy lights washing over the windshield. Tires crunched across old salt and gravel as you eased into a parking space.

Then you heard it.

A sharp cry split through the speaker, so sudden your hands locked around the steering wheel. Before your mind could convince itself it had been something else, another followed, thinner this time, strangled by sobs. Beneath the shouting came the dull, familiar sound you had spent years trying to forget.

Your mother had hit Marnie.

Your breath snagged halfway into your lungs. Every muscle in your body went rigid as your pulse roared in your ears, drowning out the argument still spilling from the phone. Before you had time to think, your thumb jabbed the screen, ending the call.

Silence crashed into the car.

The absence of voices rang louder than the screaming had. You sat frozen behind the wheel, staring through the windshield without seeing the gas pumps in front of you. Your chest refused to rise, your fingers clamped around the steering wheel until they ached.

Finally, you shut off the engine and climbed out of the car. You left the driver's door hanging open behind you, too numb to notice, while the cool night air slipped beneath your pajamas. Beneath the fluorescent lights, your body refused another step, as though it had forgotten how to move.

Across the parking lot, the red numbers on the gas price sign burned through the darkness so brightly they could have been the sun. You stared without blinking until your eyes stopped trying to keep them in focus. The glowing numbers softened at the edges, split into two shimmering images, then fractured again. Each point of light multiplied, scattering across the darkness until the gas prices no longer looked like numbers at all.

You swallowed hard, unable to look away.

Was this what Genesis looked like?

Tears pooled along your lower lashes, bending the light until every glowing point divided again. New stars flared into existence at the edges of your vision, multiplying without hurry until the black sky was no longer a sky at all but an endless expanse strewn with distant fire. One star became two. Two unraveled into dozens. Soon there were hundreds suspended before you, each one trembling against the next, galaxies unfolding behind your unfocused gaze as though creation itself had chosen this lonely parking lot to begin again.

For one impossible moment, the parking lot ceased to exist.

You watched the first light tear through endless darkness. You watched the universe split itself open beneath a force so immense it gave birth to stars, to planets, to suns that would burn for billions of years before collapsing into silence again. It was beautiful in the same way a wildfire was beautiful from miles away, too vast to comprehend, too violent to survive.

A thought settled quietly inside you.

Maybe creation had always sounded like screaming.

Not thunder rolling across an empty sky. Not the voice of God speaking life into the darkness. Not music. Just a little girl begging her mother to stop.

Your chest tightened until breathing became an effort. The stars no longer looked eternal. They looked wounded, fragments hurled across an infinite sky by a catastrophe so enormous that, given enough time, people forgot it had ever been an explosion at all. They simply called it the beginning.

Maybe every universe began with violence. Maybe stars were only beautiful because something unimaginably catastrophic had happened first. Worlds weren't born gently. They exploded into existence, scattering broken pieces across endless darkness until enough time passed that people stopped calling them ruins and started calling them constellations.

Your mother had always been her own kind of gravity. Every room bent around her moods. Every conversation curved toward her anger. Every child she brought into the world learned to orbit the same unpredictable force, circling carefully, endlessly, hoping this time they wouldn't be pulled too close.

You had spent your childhood measuring the distance between safety and the sound of her footsteps, learning that love could disappear as quickly as a slammed door and return only long enough to make you question whether the bruises had ever been real.

The stars continued drifting apart. Maybe that was all growing up had ever been. Not becoming someone new, but gathering enough distance from the thing that kept trying to pull you back.

Maybe you had always been Pluto.

A lonely body wandering through the wrong solar system, circling a sun that had never claimed you. No matter how faithfully you returned, you remained too distant to warm, too small to matter, existing only because no one had found a way to erase you completely.

You wondered if a cruel god had placed you inside a family whose gravity was never meant to hold you. Every orbit ended the same way. You drifted close enough to hope for warmth, only to be flung back into the cold before you could convince yourself you belonged.

Maybe that was your purpose.

To keep circling the people you loved while watching them suffer simply because you existed beside them.

Your mother suffered. Marnie suffered. Even Professor Anderson had inherited the wreckage you carried. The farther you looked, the more your life resembled a trail of debris scattered behind a dying planet. Everywhere you went, someone bled. Someone cried. Someone was left carrying a weight that should never have been theirs.

Maybe the universe wasn't punishing you. Maybe it had simply written you into the wrong constellation, and everyone who wandered too close became another casualty of the collision.

Should you go home?

The question had followed you ever since the day you packed your belongings and drove away for college, lingering in the back of your mind no matter how hard you tried to outrun it. You hadn't turned down that street once since leaving. You hadn't driven past the cracked sidewalks, the sagging porch, or the windows where you used to watch the neighborhood from behind locked doors. Pretending the house no longer existed had always been easier than admitting you were terrified of what still waited inside it.

A cold gust slipped beneath your sweater and pajama pants, raising goosebumps across your skin. The chill barely registered. Tears rolled quietly down your cheeks, warm against your face before disappearing beneath your jaw, and this time you didn't bother wiping them away.

Why didn't your mother love you?

The question had changed as you'd grown older. As a little girl, you'd wondered what you'd done wrong. As a teenager, you'd convinced yourself that if you cleaned more, argued less, earned better grades, or stayed invisible long enough, she'd finally look at you with kindness. 

Now you were an adult, and the question had become quieter, heavier, stripped of hope but no less painful.

Why keep having children if loving them never seemed to matter?

You dragged your sleeve across your face with more force than necessary, willing yourself to stop crying before anyone noticed. 

After drawing a shaky breath, you forced your feet toward the entrance. The automatic doors slid apart with a mechanical chime, and a wave of warm air greeted you, carrying the familiar scent of burnt coffee, rolling hot dogs, spilled soda syrup, and old floor cleaner.

The convenience store felt strangely ordinary.

A man stood near the coffee station stirring powdered creamer into his cup. Two teenagers laughed quietly in front of the refrigerated drinks. The cashier scanned lottery tickets for an older woman without sparing anyone else a glance. The world continued moving exactly as it always had, untouched by the sound of your little sister crying through a phone speaker only moments before.

You wandered to the soda fountain and filled a paper cup with Dr Pepper, watching the dark soda splash against the ice until it reached the rim. Then you found a Snickers bar near the register, set it on the counter, and paid without looking at the total. You couldn't have described the cashier afterward if someone had asked. The entire exchange passed in a blur.

The cool night air met you again as you stepped outside.

Professor Anderson's car waited beneath the canopy lights, its polished black paint reflecting the harsh fluorescent glow in long ribbons across the hood. It looked impossibly clean, impossibly expensive, untouched by the kind of life you'd grown up in.

You stood there with your drink in one hand and the candy bar in the other, staring at the car while your thoughts drifted somewhere far beyond the parking lot.

 Part of you wanted to turn the key, drive home, and pull Marnie out of that house no matter what happened afterward. Another part of you wanted to keep driving in the opposite direction until the road ended, protecting the fragile life you'd finally begun to build.

You closed your eyes and drew a slow, trembling breath before opening them again, the cold air burning your lungs as reality settled heavily back onto your shoulders.

Instead, you drove back to Professor Anderson's house.

The ride passed in a blur. The Dr Pepper sweated quietly in the cup holder while the Snickers rested untouched on the passenger seat. You couldn't remember a single turn you made. By the time you pulled into the driveway, the numbness had settled so deeply inside you that climbing out of the car felt mechanical.

You carried the soda and candy inside before quietly closing the front door behind you.

Professor Anderson had changed the television.

The nature documentary was gone, replaced by another one. A pride of lions wandered across a sunburnt savanna, golden grass bending beneath the wind while a calm narrator explained their hunting patterns.

You set her keys on the coffee table with a dull clink. "Can we watch something else?" you asked, the words leaving your mouth sharper than you'd intended.

Professor Anderson paused halfway through a bite of her Snickers. Her brows drew together as she slowly turned her head toward you, studying your face before she answered.

"We can," she said evenly. "If you ask me properly."

You didn't respond.

Instead, you collapsed onto the couch beside her, letting your body sink into the cushions. You set the Dr Pepper on the coffee table without opening it and pressed the heel of your hand against your forehead, trying to quiet the pounding behind your eyes.

The documentary continued playing. A lioness stalked through tall grass while the narrator's steady voice filled the room.

Professor Anderson remained silent.

Instead, she watched you. Her attention never drifted back to the television, lingering on your face until the quiet between you became impossible to ignore.

Her attention lingered just long enough for the silence to become unbearable.

Before she could ask what was wrong, the words burst out of you. "Why do people have children if they're just going to be cruel to them?"You scowled, sipping your doctor pepper.

Professor Anderson lowered the candy bar into her lap without taking another bite. Her expression softened, concern quietly replacing the mild irritation she'd worn only moments before.

"Did your mother call again?" she asked.

You let out a bitter laugh that caught halfway through your throat. "My sister did." Your fingers tightened around the edge of the couch. "Then my mother took the phone."

Professor Anderson nodded slowly, giving your words room to settle before speaking again. "How are you feeling?"

You looked at her, anger rising so quickly it surprised even you.

She didn't flinch beneath your glare. "You can tell me," she said gently.

A sharp breath escaped your nose. "What's the point?" you snapped. "You'll never understand."

Professor Anderson held your gaze for a long moment before giving a small nod. "You're right," she admitted quietly. "There are parts of your life I can never truly understand."

Her honesty only frustrated you more. "No." You dropped your eyes to your hands. "It's all of it." Your voice had lost its edge, leaving only exhaustion behind. "You don't understand any of it." You swallowed hard. "Your mother loved you."

Professor Anderson looked down at the Snickers bar in her hand before turning it over once between her fingers.

"My mother died when I was young," she said softly. A faint, humorless smile crossed her face. "I was still a child." She looked back at you. "There wasn't much time for either of us to disappoint the other."

Your stomach dropped.

You stared at her, guilt washing over your face. "I'm sorry," you whispered. "I... I forgot."

Professor Anderson gave a small shrug, her expression remaining calm. "I know." She rested the candy bar on the coffee table. "It's alright." There wasn't any resentment in her voice.

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✧ chapter 105

✧ 1.8k words

oldercommander!abby x reader

⋆More than this place.⋆

← previous chapter.

⋆ MDNI 18+

**THIS IS AN AU SOME EVENTS IN THIS WILL NOT MATCH THE ORIGINAL GAME STORYLINE**

Her kindness alone was enough to undo you.

You rolled closer until your face disappeared against her chest, hiding there as though the warmth of her body could muffle the embarrassment blooming across your cheeks.

"I can't handle you being nice," you mumbled into her shirt, your voice muffled against the fabric.

She let out a thoughtful hum, her hand never stopping its slow path across your back. "Why?" she asked quietly, pressing a gentle kiss into your hair.

You shifted against her, your breathing uneven as you searched for words that wouldn't come. "Please..." you whispered, your voice catching before you buried your face deeper against her. "Please touch me."

She froze. 

Her breath hitched ever so slightly before she let out a slow exhale. "Honey..." she murmured, her voice full of reluctant sympathy as her fingers lingered against your shoulder.

You let out another small whimper. "You were fine a couple days ago," you complained softly, lifting your head just enough for her to hear you.

When she still didn't answer, you looked up at her.

Your face burned.

Your eyes searched hers with quiet desperation before you reached for her hand, guiding it toward your clothed cunt with hesitant fingers.

"Please, Abigail," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "It's all your fault." You ground your hips against her palm.

Her eyebrows lifted as she looked from your face to the hand you'd taken. "My fault?" she asked gently, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth despite the concern still lingering in her eyes.

You nodded quickly. "You're being so sweet," you admitted, your gaze dropping away again. "You keep kissing me... you keep looking at me like that." A shy laugh escaped you before you hid your face against her once more. "I can't help it." Your hips moved faster.

She sighed through a small, affectionate smile, her free hand stroking slowly through your hair before she rested her cheek against the top of your head. Her other hand pressed lightly against where you ground onto her.

You let out a shaky breath. “Abby please.” you begged desperately. 

She paused, staring down at you.

You swallowed before gathering what little courage you had left. "Just be slow," you whispered.

Her entire body went still.

She squeezed her eyes shut, the bridge of her nose wrinkling as she drew in a long, steady breath. When she finally exhaled, she gently removed her hands from you and sat up, putting a few careful inches of space between your bodies.

"First you tell me you're dizzy," she said softly, rubbing a hand across her face as though she were trying to organize her thoughts. Her eyes found yours again, filled with concern instead of frustration. "And now you're asking me for sex." She swallowed. "Are you avoiding something?"

The blood drained from your face.

Part of it was true.

Only part.

You lowered your eyes to the blanket, unable to hold her gaze any longer. Threads crossed beneath your fingertips, and you focused on them instead, hoping they would keep your thoughts from unraveling.

She reached over carefully.

Her thumb slipped beneath your chin before she gently lifted your face back toward hers. "Are you hiding something from me?" she asked, tilting her head ever so slightly.

You swallowed hard.

She didn't look angry.

That would've been easier, anger was predictable, this quiet sadness in her eyes wasn't. 

Instead, she looked wounded, her eyebrows drawn together with quiet concern, her expression carrying the same helpless sadness as a dog waiting at a door that never opened.

"I know what happened," she began, her voice catching before she looked away. You watched her throat bob as she swallowed, gathering herself. 

After another slow breath, she looked back at you. "But I still need to understand how they got you there." Her lips pressed together briefly before she continued. "I need to figure out who helped them. I need to know what connections they had."

You pushed yourself upright beside her. "It's not that," you said quietly. Your eyes drifted back to the blanket. "You've just..." Your cheeks warmed beneath her stare. "You've never been this kind."

You traced one loose thread with your fingertip. "It makes me..." You searched for words that didn't sound foolish. "It makes me want you more than I ever have before."

"So much so..." you admitted, your voice shrinking to a whisper as you covered your face with both hands and pulled your knees against your chest. "...that I can't even control myself."

You heard her exhale quietly through her nose.

You hugged your knees tighter, your fingers curling into your sleeves as embarrassment settled beneath your skin. Keeping your eyes hidden behind your hands felt easier than looking at her.

"I just..." You swallowed hard before forcing yourself to finish. "I just really like you."

Your eyes squeezed shut.

"And I like you the most..." Your cheeks burned as the confession stumbled out of you. "...when you're nice like this."

The words hung between you, and suddenly you wished you could gather them back before they reached her.

You let out a shaky breath.

You felt her shoulders begin to shake beneath the silence.

Confused, you lowered your hands and turned toward her. She was biting the inside of her cheek, her lips pressed together as though she were trying to hold something back.

Your eyebrows pulled together.

"Are you laughing at me?" you asked softly, searching her face for an answer.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before letting out a slow breath. She cleared her throat and rubbed the back of her neck, trying to smooth the smile from her face before finally looking back at you.

"Partially," she admitted, the corner of her mouth twitching despite her best effort.

You frowned, but then your eyes caught the shine gathering beneath hers.

She wasn't just laughing.

Her eyes were wet.

The realization softened your expression immediately.

"Abby?" you asked quietly, your voice losing every trace of accusation.

She looked away toward the ceiling, blinking rapidly before another breath escaped her. Her smile faltered, leaving behind an expression you couldn't quite untangle.

"I don't know if I should cry," she admitted, her voice quieter now as she looked back at you. "Because you've lived with fear for so long that kindness feels foreign to you."

A small laugh escaped through her nose before she could stop it. She shook her head at herself, wiping beneath one eye with the heel of her hand.

"Or..." She let out another breath, another reluctant smile creeping across her face. "Or if I should laugh because apparently treating you gently makes you go into heat like some crazed little animal."

The laugh that followed was quiet and affectionate rather than mocking. She reached over to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear, her fingertips lingering against your cheek before she cupped your face.

"I kiss you a few times," she murmured with a watery smile, "I tell you I'm proud of you, I hold you for a little while..." Her thumb swept slowly beneath your eye. "...and suddenly you can't think straight."

You stared at her, your face burning hotter with every word.

She noticed immediately.

Her smile softened as she leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I think it's heartbreaking," she whispered, her eyes searching yours with unbearable tenderness. "But I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a little cute too."

You looked down at her hands, your eyes lingering on the fingers that had been touching you only moments ago. The warmth of them still clung to your skin, making the frustration sitting in your chest feel even heavier.

"This sucks," you muttered, letting out a long, defeated sigh.

The complaint pulled a genuine laugh from her.

Not one of the quiet little chuckles she'd been giving you over the past few days.

A real laugh.

It filled the room so completely that you found yourself looking back up at her before you realized you were smiling too.

Her cheeks were flushed now, her blue eyes crinkling at the corners as she looked down at you with a softness that still felt impossible to believe.

"Are you hungry?" she asked sweetly, her hand returning to your back as she rubbed slow circles through your shirt.

You nodded without hesitation.

She tilted her head, watching you think before another smile spread across her face. "What do you want?"

You stared at the blanket gathered around your legs for a moment, searching through the meals you'd eaten over the last few days. "Maybe the stew from two days ago."

One of her eyebrows lifted. "You said you didn't like the carrots," she reminded you with a quiet laugh, her thumb tracing another absent circle against your back.

You shrugged. "I want them today."

She leaned forward and kissed your cheek, lingering there for a heartbeat before pulling back. When she spoke again, her voice had grown quieter, carrying a tenderness that made your chest ache.

"I wish I could give you more," she whispered, her eyes drifting away as though she were staring into another life entirely. "I wish..." She hesitated before smiling sadly to herself. "I wish I could get you pregnant and give you a family."

You immediately rocked away from her, your eyebrows knitting together in disbelief. "What?" you asked, scowling as you searched her face.

She smiled anyway. "I wish I could make a family with you," she said softly, reaching out as though she wanted to touch you again before letting her hand fall back into her lap. "I wish I could build a home with you." Her eyes drifted toward the window. "I wish we had a life that was normal." She exhaled slowly. “Something… more than this place.” Her voice cracked on the edge of the words.

You stared at her.

For a long moment neither of you spoke.

The silence stretched between you until an idea surfaced before you'd had time to think it through.

"Why..." You swallowed, your heart beginning to race. "Let's go."

She looked back at you.

Your eyes widened. "Let's leave." You whispered hopeful.

Her smile slowly disappeared.

Her lips pressed together, and you watched her throat bob as she swallowed. She held your gaze for another long moment before looking away, choosing not to answer the invitation at all.

"I'll get you the stew," she said quietly as she pushed herself to her feet.

You watched her smooth the wrinkles from her shirt before she crossed the room. The door opened with a familiar creak, then closed behind her, leaving you alone with the flowers she'd brought home and the future neither of you had been brave enough to finish talking about.

ok what if they have a baby

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✧ chapter 104

✧ 2.3k words

oldercommander!abby x reader

⋆None of that for a while.⋆

← previous chapter.

⋆ MDNI 18+

**THIS IS AN AU SOME EVENTS IN THIS WILL NOT MATCH THE ORIGINAL GAME STORYLINE**

You spent the next three days inside Abby's quarters.

She filled the hours as though she couldn't bear to leave them empty. Every morning she'd come back from the library carrying another stack of books she thought you'd like. At dinner she'd somehow convince the kitchen staff to set aside stew before everyone else picked through it, always returning with a bowl balanced carefully in her hands, smiling when she caught you reading instead of sleeping.

By the fourth day, the bruises had faded enough that she finally trusted you to wander the stadium alone while she worked upstairs in Communications with Owen.

You didn't stray far.

First you slipped behind the supply stalls and quietly traded for another pack of cigarettes, hiding them deep inside your jacket before anyone thought to ask questions. After that, you stopped by Mel's office so she could replace the bandages covering your wounds. She frowned the entire time she worked, muttering under her breath about stitches and infection, though her hands remained gentle.

By the afternoon, you'd already finished the last book Abby had brought you.

With a quiet sigh, you wandered toward the recreation room, crouching in front of a shelf crowded with worn DVDs. Your fingers drifted across cracked plastic cases one by one, reading faded titles without much interest. Most of them had been watched enough times that the covers had started peeling away from the corners.

The door creaked open behind you.

You glanced over your shoulder.

Abby stepped inside carrying a loose bouquet of wildflowers, their stems wrapped together with a thin strip of twine. Tiny purple blossoms spilled between white daisies and yellow buttercups, a few petals already beginning to wilt from the trip back.

A smile spread across your face before you could stop it. "What's that?" you asked softly as you straightened to your feet, your eyes lingering on the flowers instead of her.

She let out a quiet breath and rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly looking uncertain beneath your attention. The hard edges she'd carried for months had softened over the last few days. Her voice rarely rose anymore, and there always seemed to be the faintest blush warming her cheeks whenever you caught her looking at you for too long.

"I saw them," she admitted with a small shrug, lifting the bouquet slightly. "Owen and I went out to inspect the hatchery."

You smiled wider as you stepped closer.

Her eyes immediately dropped to your body, lingering on the places that were still healing before they slowly returned to your face. The concern was impossible to miss. Even now, she watched you as though one careless movement might reopen every wound.

You leaned down and breathed in the flowers.

They smelled faintly of wet earth, pine needles, and the river beyond the stadium walls. "Nice," you said sweetly, smiling up at her.

She set the bouquet carefully on the worn wooden counter before turning back toward you. The flowers settled between a stack of books and an empty coffee mug, their bright colors softening the drab little room. Her hands found your waist with practiced gentleness, thumbs brushing absent circles through the fabric of your shirt as she leaned in to press slow kisses beneath your jaw.

"I heard you were out today," she murmured against your neck before another kiss landed beneath your ear.

Warmth crept into your face.

"I did," you admitted with a small nod.

She smiled into your skin before burying her face in your hair, breathing you in the way she always did after spending hours apart. The smile faded only a second later. Her brows knit together, and she let out a quiet, dissatisfied hum.

"You smell like tobacco," she grumbled, though her voice carried more worry than irritation. She lifted her head just enough to meet your eyes before brushing another kiss across your cheek. "No smoking."

Your stomach tightened.

Your pulse stumbled into a nervous rhythm so quickly it made your chest ache. Before you could stop yourself, you eased backward, instinct pulling you away before your mind had time to catch up.

She noticed immediately.

Instead of grabbing you back, instead of raising her voice or letting frustration harden her expression, she stepped forward with careful patience. Her hand cupped your cheek while her lips found yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

"I get so worried," she whispered between gentle kisses, her forehead resting against yours. Her thumb stroked slowly beneath your eye as though she could smooth away the fear before it settled there. "When I smell it on you."

Her arms slipped around your waist, drawing you against her chest until you could hear the steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath your ear. She held you quietly for a long moment before her chin rested lightly on top of your head.

"Are you sad?" she asked in a voice so soft it barely rose above a whisper. One of her hands rubbed slow circles across your back as she searched your face. "What's making you smoke, my love?"

You melted into the embrace before you realized you were doing it.

Her gentleness still caught you off guard. Your body hadn't learned that softness could exist without demanding payment afterward. Every kind touch still felt borrowed, as though it might disappear the moment you reached for it.

You shrugged against her shoulder. "Sometimes..." You paused, searching for words that made sense even to yourself. "Sometimes I just want it."

A quiet laugh rumbled in her chest before she kissed the top of your head.

"Then let's try to want it a little less," she murmured, her fingers combing absentmindedly through your hair. She pulled back just enough to search your eyes again, a hopeful smile settling across her face. "Can we do that?"

You studied her for another moment before giving a small nod. "Okay," you whispered, and for the first time the promise didn't feel like it belonged to someone else. It felt like one you actually wanted to keep.

You let yourself melt against her, careful not to press too hard against the bruises scattered across your ribs and face. Every breath tugged at something sore. You buried your face in her neck and let out a quiet grumble.

"It still hurts," you mumbled into her skin.

Her hand slowed against your back before coming to a stop between your shoulder blades. She held you a little tighter, her brow knitting with concern.

"Does it?" she asked softly, rubbing her palm up and down your back again. "That much?"

You nodded against her shoulder.

She let out a slow breath.

"I know you've been resting," she murmured, her fingers absentmindedly tracing your spine before they stilled. "But I need you to tell me what happened."

Your stomach tightened.

You'd managed to avoid this conversation for days.

You swallowed hard before lifting your head just enough to answer.

"I'm not feeling well," you croaked, your voice catching in your throat.

She gently pulled you back so she could see your face. Her thumb swept across your cheek while she searched your expression, waiting for you to say more.

You thought about your mother.

You thought about every terrible memory you could reach.

Your lip began to tremble.

Your eyes watered until your vision blurred, and you forced yourself to hold them open, wide and glassy beneath her gaze.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, your voice breaking as the first tear rolled down your cheek. "My head just hurts so bad today."

You sniffled, letting another tear fall.

"And..." You drew in a shaky breath. "I feel so sick."

Concern flooded her face so quickly it made your chest tighten.

"You do?" she asked, immediately pressing the back of her hand against your forehead before brushing damp hair away from your face. "Are you warm?"

You nodded.

"And dizzy."

She clicked her tongue quietly before glancing around the room as though the answer might be sitting somewhere in plain sight.

"Did you drink any water?" she asked, looking back at you.

You shook your head, lowering your eyes.

"I'm sorry I smoked," you whispered as you rubbed at your eyes, smearing away tears only to replace them with new ones. "I just... I wanted one." A soft cough escaped you before you looked back at her. "Now I don't feel good."

Her expression crumpled.

This Abby...

This quiet version of her that had surfaced after you'd vanished and returned carrying your “sister's” body... she couldn't bear the sight of you hurting. Every wince, every tear, every strained breath unraveled something inside her.

She nodded quickly before slipping an arm around your waist. "Okay, baby," she soothed, guiding you carefully toward the bed as though you might break beneath her hands. "Let's get you lying down."

You whimpered quietly when the mattress met your back. Before she could step away, you reached both hands toward her, your fingers opening helplessly. "Lay with me," you pleaded through another shaky breath, fresh tears gathering in your eyes.

She hesitated for only a heartbeat before climbing into bed beside you. The mattress dipped beneath her weight as she wrapped herself around you, her arms folding carefully around your body until your face settled against her chest.

"I'm here," she whispered, pressing a lingering kiss into your hair while her fingers stroked slow circles across your back. "You don't have to worry. I've got you."

You snuggled deeper into her chest, breathing in the familiar scent of pine that clung to her clothes. The warmth of her body settled around you, and for the first time all day your muscles began to loosen.

"I missed you," you whimpered into her neck, your voice muffled against her skin.

She smiled to herself before her hand resumed its slow circles across your back. Her chin rested lightly against your hair as she held you closer.

"You did?" she cooed softly, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head.

You nodded.

"I thought about you all day," you admitted, biting gently at your bottom lip as you looked down at the blanket gathered beneath your hands.

A quiet laugh escaped her.

"So sweet," she murmured, brushing another kiss across your forehead before letting her lips linger there for a moment.

This version of Abby unraveled you in ways the old one never had.

Her patience.

Her gentle voice.

The way she asked instead of demanded.

Every soft word settled somewhere beneath your ribs until it spread warmth between your legs. Every kiss she pressed against your skin left behind a quiet warmth that traveled lower before you could stop it. 

You weren't afraid of her anymore.

You were terrified of how desperately you wanted her.

Without thinking, your fingertips drifted absentmindedly across the front of her stomach, tracing slow lines through the fabric of her shirt while you listened to her breathing.

She glanced down at your hand before lifting her eyes back to your face, the corner of her mouth curling into a patient smile.

You swallowed. "Can I ask you something?" you asked quietly, your fingers stilling against her.

Her expression softened even further. She leaned down to kiss your forehead once more before brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face.

"Always," she whispered, her eyes never leaving yours.

You looked away beneath her gentle stare, suddenly unable to hold her gaze. Her blue eyes never left your face, watching you with patient curiosity while her thumb continued its slow path across your side.

She tilted her head before leaning down to scatter another kiss across your cheek.

"What?" she purred softly, smiling against your skin.

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth.

"I've been thinking..." you admitted, your voice barely rising above a whisper.

She hummed thoughtfully, brushing another kiss across your temple before her forehead rested lightly against yours.

"About what?" she asked, her fingers combing through your hair.

You drew in a slow breath. "I liked when you dressed me up."

A surprised laugh escaped her before she searched your face, making sure you meant it. "You did?"

You finally looked back at her, your cheeks warming beneath her attention.

"I miss when you used..." You hesitated, swallowing hard before forcing the words out. "The one that was too big, too."

The amusement faded from her expression.

She shook her head gently before tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, her fingertips lingering there for a moment.

"None of that for a while," she murmured, her voice carrying quiet certainty instead of disappointment.

You frowned. "I can—"

She silenced the protest with a soft kiss, smiling into it before pulling back just enough to meet your eyes again.

"You're feeling dizzy," she reminded you, brushing her thumb across your cheek. "I want you to be okay first."

You leaned forward again, kissing her more deeply before the distance between you could grow. When you finally pulled back, your lips still hovered close enough to brush hers with every word.

"Make me feel better," you whispered, your voice catching as your body instinctively shifted closer to hers. Your hips bucked upwards, desperately grasping at friction.

A quiet chuckle rumbled in her chest.

She rested her forehead against yours before stealing one last gentle kiss, her smile lingering long after she pulled away.

"No, Donna," she said warmly, smoothing her hand through your hair. "Right now I just want you to feel better."

Your shoulders sagged with a mixture of embarrassment and reluctant acceptance. She noticed immediately, kissing the tip of your nose before wrapping both arms around you again.

"You can be mad at me later," she murmured with a fond smile. "I'm still taking care of you first."

Thoughts???

also did you miss me

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Looking for more? Find my other works here

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FUCK

✧ chapter 103

✧ 5.3k words

oldercommander!abby x reader

⋆ You're the river⋆

← previous chapter.

⋆ MDNI 18+

**THIS IS AN AU SOME EVENTS IN THIS WILL NOT MATCH THE ORIGINAL GAME STORYLINE**

cw: sweet sweet sweet fluffy sex YEAHHHHHHUH super sweet

You let out a slow breath, your fingers tightening around the fabric of Abby's shirt. The words lodged stubbornly in your throat, refusing to come easily. You looked down at your hands instead, tracing the worn seam beneath your thumb while your heart pounded hard enough that you were certain she could feel it through the way you sat against her.

"I..." You stopped, biting gently at your lower lip. "I wouldn't mind."

The confession barely escaped your mouth. It was so quiet that even you weren't entirely sure you'd spoken aloud.

Abby's eyebrows lifted. "Huh?"

You glanced up just long enough to meet her eyes before your courage abandoned you again. Heat rushed into your face, and you quickly looked away, shifting uneasily in her lap. Suddenly, the folds of her shirt seemed much easier to study than her expression.

"It's been..." You swallowed, your voice catching with embarrassment. "A while."

Understanding slowly settled across Abby's face.

Her expression softened, but concern quickly followed. She let out a quiet click of her tongue before her hand moved instinctively to your side, careful not to press against the bruises hidden beneath your shirt.

"Donna..." She shook her head gently. "You're hurt." Her voice remained impossibly soft. "I couldn't." She looked away for a moment, her jaw tightening. "I'm..." Her eyes closed briefly, frustration flickering across her face. "I'm too rough." The admission came reluctantly. "I'd spend the entire time worrying about hurting you."

Silence settled between you.

You continued absentmindedly smoothing the crease in her shirt beneath your fingertips, your thoughts circling the same quiet certainty that had been growing since you'd woken in her arms.

"You could learn to be gentle," you murmured.

Your voice carried no accusation.

Only trust.

Abby's breathing faltered.

Her eyes found yours again, searching your face carefully, making certain she understood what you were trying to say instead of what she feared you meant.

"If..." She stumbled over the word before beginning again. "If that's something you want..." She exhaled slowly. "I..." Another small shake of her head interrupted the sentence.

"No." She corrected herself with a faint, nervous smile. "Only if you want to." She reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair away from your face. "And only when you're ready." Her thumb lingered lightly against your cheek. "There isn't any rush."

You shifted again, settling a little closer against her without realizing it. Your fingers still toyed absentmindedly with the hem of her shirt while you searched for the right words.

“I think…” You swallowed, the words thick in your throat. “I think it would make me feel better.”

The admission slipped out quietly, carrying far more vulnerability than confidence. For a moment it simply hung in the air between you.

Abby froze, her brows drawing tight as she stared at you, the conflict sharp across her face. 

But you didn’t give her time to retreat. You moved, leaning down slowly until your lips met hers. Your mouth pressed soft and warm against her own, lingering there with care. The heat between you crackled in the narrow space that remained, electric and unsteady.

“I can guide you,” you gasped against her mouth, breath trembling. “I can help you go slow.” The plea left you in a desperate whisper, raw with need.

She pulled back just enough to breathe, her chest rising and falling in sharp bursts beneath your palm. You could feel her heart hammering hard against your hand, fast and unsteady. 

“How do you want me?” she asked softly, her voice low and rough at the edges.

You shifted in her lap, your underwear already soaked through. Your faces remained inches apart, breaths mingling hot and close in the charged silence.

“Maybe…” You bit your lip, pulse racing.“You could kiss me… slow.” You swallowed hard. “And sweet.”

“Where?” 

Her hips rolled once against you, sending a jolt through your body. Her mouth hovered barely touching yours, teasing, before she kissed you again.

“My pussy,” you whispered, the word barely audible as it left your lips. “Slow.”

She nodded, her eyes dark with want. “I can.”

You bit your lip harder, the sting sharp. “But I also want… your fingers.”

A low chuckle escaped her. “I can do both,” she whispered, kissing you again, deeper this time. “I can kiss your whole body better.”

You nodded quickly, trembling as you took her hand and guided it into your underwear. The moment her fingers slid through your soaked folds, she whimpered against your mouth.

“My body hates being away from you,” you breathed into her, grinding your dripping cunt down onto her fingers with a needy roll of your hips. “It hates not being touched for this long.” A soft, broken moan slipped from your throat. “Make me feel better,” you whined.

She watched you now, her eyes wide with surprise. 

Your eyes were half-lidded as you leaned back, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties and pulling them to the side. 

“Abby,” you whimpered, voice already cracking. “You talked so sweet to me.”

Two of your own fingers pushed inside your soaking cunt, sliding in with a wet sound that filled the quiet between you. You gasped sharply as you sank them deeper, all the way in, your back arching slightly at the stretch. 

Abby’s mouth parted as she watched you fuck yourself, her gaze dark and fixed, barely blinking.

You reached down with your other hand and spread yourself open for her, trembling under the weight of her stare. “I need you,” you whined, the words cracking. “Why did you talk so nice?”

Abby swallowed hard, her throat working visibly. “Well…” A nervous chuckle slipped out of her, rough and unsteady. “I want—” 

The words cut off as you pushed a third finger inside yourself, a broken gasp tearing from your throat at the fuller stretch. 

Her eyes flicked down to where your fingers disappeared, her breath catching sharply in her chest.

You rolled your hips down onto your fingers, moaning softly as your cunt squelched wetly around them. Your lips curled inward, eyes fluttering as you moved faster, chasing the pleasure with desperate little gasps. Your pussy was dripping, soaking her thighs beneath you with every roll.

Abby grabbed your wrist suddenly, shaking her head. “I need you to slow down, angel,” she said, her voice rough with restraint.

“I don’t want to,” you whined, still rolling your hips, greedy and impatient. “I want to feel good.”

She exhaled sharply. “Donna.” Her tone turned stern, low and commanding. “Remember when I said I wanted to be gentle?”

You bit your lip, looking up at her through heavy lashes. “Uh huh,” you answered sweetly, almost innocently.

She let out a slow, strained breath, her jaw tight. “You’re making it very hard to control myself,” she admitted, her voice thick. “Especially when you stuff yourself with three fingers like that.”

You whimpered and tried to tug your hand free, desperate to keep moving, but she held firm. 

She shook her head again, eyes dark but patient.“Let me do it.” She leaned forward and kissed you sweetly, her lips soft and lingering. “Nice and slow, yeah?”

You whimpered into her mouth, the sound needy and frustrated.

“Take a nice breath for me,” she commanded softly, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Calm down a little, okay?”

You obeyed, inhaling slowly through your nose and letting it out through your mouth, your body still trembling with want.

“Good,” she murmured, sweet approval warming her voice. “Let’s lay you down.”

Your gaze flicked toward the bed behind you. She followed your eyes and nodded. Without another word, she stood, lifting you easily into her arms and carrying you the short distance to the bed.

She laid you down slowly, her touch careful and reverent. Her hands moved with patience as she slipped your underwear down your legs, then eased your shirt up and over your head. Once you were bare beneath her, you spread your legs open for her without hesitation.

Abby chuckled lowly as she climbed onto the bed, straddling you as she leaned down to kiss you. “You never open for me that easily,” she groaned against your lips, then dipped lower to kiss along your neck.

“I need it,” you exhaled, voice shaky with want.

She nodded, breath warm against your skin. “Be patient.”

You bit your lip hard, your thighs trembling around her body as she continued kissing down the side of your neck. She pulled back just long enough to slip her own shirt and bra off, revealing the muscular lines of her frame. Your fingers shook as you reached for her, pulling her closer, but she was careful not to rest her full weight on you, mindful of every bruise and injury.

She nipped gently at your neck and you jumped, a quiet giggle slipping out. “That tickles,” you whispered.

She smiled and rubbed her nose against yours before kissing your lips again, soft and sweet. Then she moved lower, her silver-blonde hair brushing lightly over your skin as she kissed along your cheeks, your jaw, and back down to your neck. She continued lower, pressing slow, tender kisses across your chest, lingering over every bruise as if trying to soothe them.

Your nipples were already tight and aching. You arched your back, running your hands over them and bucking your hips, but Abby gently caught your wrists and pulled your hands away.

She kissed around the swell of your chest with aching care before pausing at one nipple. She placed a soft kiss there first.

A loud whimper tore from your throat.

Abby smiled against your skin, then took the sensitive bud into her mouth. Her tongue swirled around it slowly, eyes slipping closed as she savored you. Her other hand moved to your second nipple, rolling it gently between two fingers.

Your whole body trembled beneath her. 

Your hands found her shoulders, nails digging into the firm muscle there as pleasure rolled through you in heavy waves.

She sucked once, rough and sudden, then pulled back with a sharp gasp. Her mouth moved lower, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses down your stomach. Every two or three kisses she paused, letting her tongue roll warm and wet over your skin.

You bit your lip hard, staring down at her, brows pinched tight with need.

She reached your thighs and used both hands to spread your trembling legs wider. She kissed up and down the sensitive skin there, holding you open as she settled between them. Her breath ghosted over your aching clit as she hovered there.

You grabbed at her head desperately. “Abby, please hurry up,” you begged, hips bucking, your clit brushing against her lips.

She smiled, eyes dark as she watched you squirm. 

Her hands pressed your hips gently back down against the bed.

“Relax,” she said, her voice dropping into a low, crackly, sultry tone. “I’ll take care of you.” She kissed your clit softly. “You have to be patient.”

You let out a long, protesting whine, huffing in frustration as you looked down at her. Your hands moved to cup your breasts, fingers squeezing as you stared into her half-lidded blue eyes.

She kissed your folds with sweet, gentle pressure, then slowly slid her tongue out, wrapping it around your swollen clit in soft, deliberate circles. The pace was agonizingly gentle.

You gasped, breath coming in quick, shallow bursts as you fought to stay still. It had been so long, your clit throbbed painfully, and her slow pace only made the ache sharper, more unbearable.

She ghosted her middle finger at your entrance. You chased it with your hips, but her other hand held you firmly in place. Her mouth closed around your clit, tongue rolling over the sensitive bud again and again.

“Abby,” you whined, voice breaking. “Harder.”

She shook her head slowly, refusing, and eased her middle finger inside you instead, inch by careful inch until she was buried to the knuckle.

You exhaled shakily, eyes rolling back as your back bowed off the bed and your hands fisted the sheets. You tried to roll your hips faster, but she had you pinned, completely under her control.

Her tongue continued its gentle rhythm as she added a second finger, stretching you open with slow, patient care. Your cunt tightened around her fingers while she pumped them upward, her mouth never leaving your clit.

Your legs began to shake around her head as the pressure built unbearably.

“Abby,” you exhaled, voice desperate. “I’m—”

You clapped a hand over your mouth as she sped up just enough, fingers moving quicker but still careful, pushing you right over the edge.

Your eyes squeezed shut. 

You finished hard, cunt clenching rhythmically around her fingers while your clit pulsed against her tongue. A muffled cry escaped behind your palm.

Abby groaned into you, deep and satisfied, savoring every twitch and every drop of your release.

You whimpered, tapping weakly at her shoulder. She pulled back slowly and placed one final, soft kiss on your swollen clit.

Abby slowly pushed herself up until she hovered above you, one hand braced beside your shoulder while the other gently cradled your jaw. She searched your face for a brief moment, her eyes soft with affection before she leaned down to kiss you again. The kiss lingered, slow and unhurried, deepening naturally until she finally drew back just enough to look at you.

A faint smile touched her lips.

She lifted two fingers to your mouth, her gaze never leaving yours.

"Taste how sweet you are," she murmured, her voice low and almost reverent. "I love the way you taste."

A rosy warmth had settled across her cheeks, and her eyes had grown heavy beneath lowered lashes. She looked utterly captivated, unable to tear her gaze away from you.

You obediently parted your lips, drawing her fingers into your mouth. Your eyes remained fixed on hers while your tongue slowly traced over them. Abby let out the softest gasp, her breathing growing uneven as she watched you. She bit gently at her lower lip, tilting her head ever so slightly while her chest rose and fell beneath increasingly measured breaths.

Your brows drew together with quiet concern.

"I want you to feel good," you mumbled around her fingers, the words slightly muffled but no less sincere.

The simple confession broke whatever spell had settled over her.

Abby's expression immediately softened. She carefully withdrew her hand before cupping your cheek once more. Leaning down, she kissed you with quiet tenderness, lingering just long enough for your breathing to settle alongside hers.

"It's okay," she whispered when she finally pulled back. "Don't worry about me."

You shook your head.

Your hands drifted uncertainly to the waistband of her pants before resting there.

"I want you..." The words came quietly. "I want you to feel good too."

Abby's smile deepened, touched with equal parts affection and restraint.

She gently covered your hands with her own, stopping them without force. "I'm okay," she said softly.

She brushed another lingering kiss across your lips before trailing smaller, gentler kisses along your cheek and the curve of your jaw until she reached your neck.

"Maybe another time," she murmured against your skin, her voice warm with reassurance rather than disappointment. "Right now, I just want to be here with you."

She shifted onto her side beside you, her fingertips gliding slowly up and down your stomach as though she could soothe the frantic rhythm still lingering beneath your skin. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth before she leaned in and brushed another lingering kiss across your shoulder.

"You're so beautiful," she murmured, her fingers never stopping their gentle path across your stomach. "I've always thought you were beautiful."

You swallowed hard before turning into her, burying yourself against the warmth of her bare chest. Her arms closed around you without hesitation, drawing you tightly against her until you could hear the steady beat of her heart beneath your ear.

"I love you," you muttered into her skin, the words barely louder than your breathing.

"Hm?" she asked as she gently pulled you back just enough to see your face. Her brows lifted with quiet curiosity as her thumb brushed beneath your chin. "What was that?"

Heat rushed into your face.

You turned your head away before she could read your expression. "Nothing," you muttered, refusing to meet her eyes.

A slow smile spread across her face.

She climbed over you again, her weight settling carefully against your body while she peppered soft kisses across your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, refusing to let you hide from her.

"Tell me again," she whispered between kisses, her voice barely brushing your skin.

"No," you said, laughing under your breath as you pushed weakly against her shoulder. "Don't make it weird."

She shook her head immediately before her lips found your neck again, kissing slowly beneath your jaw. "Say it again," she murmured against your skin.

"I said it once," you scoffed, trying not to smile despite yourself.

She paused beside your ear, her breath warming your skin before she spoke again. "I need it again," she mumbled quietly.

You let out a slow breath. "I love you," you said softly.

She smiled against your neck before kissing her way upward again, her lips lingering along your cheek. "Say it again," she whispered, brushing another kiss across the corner of your mouth.

"No," you complained with a small laugh. "I've said it twice now."

She answered by pressing a slow kiss against your lips before pulling back only far enough for her forehead to rest against yours. "More," she begged, her voice cracking around the word.

Your chest tightened.

You looked directly into her eyes. "I love you," you whispered.

She nodded almost frantically, her eyebrows pinching together as though the words had only made her hungrier for them. "Say it again," she begged in another whisper.

"No!" you laughed, throwing your head back against the pillow. "I've said it three times." You shook your head, smiling in disbelief. "How many times do you want it?"

"A million," she gruffed before immediately kissing you again. When she finally pulled away, her forehead remained pressed against yours as she exhaled shakily. "I want you to say it until your throat is so raw..." Another kiss landed against your cheek before she continued. "...that I'm the only one who ever had the privilege of hearing your voice before you lost it."

You stared at her. "Abby," you complained, your laugh escaping despite yourself. "That's insane."

She paused only long enough to kiss your cheek again before her eyes drifted back to yours.

"You make me insane," she admitted with a quiet breath. Her hand slid into your hair, gently combing her fingers through it before she smiled sadly. "You never say 'I love you' first."

You puffed out your cheeks before slowly letting the air escape. "I do."

She shook her head before kissing your lips once more, lingering there just long enough to make your heart ache.

"You don't," she sighed softly. Then her expression melted into something unbearably tender. "I love you too," she whispered.

You settled beneath her again as she wrapped both arms around your body, laying almost completely across you until there wasn't an inch of space left between you.

Your thoughts refused to settle.

Everything inside your head had become warm and heavy, blurred by exhaustion, pleasure, and the unbearable certainty that you would never love another person this way again.

You wanted to tell her everything.

You wanted to split your ribs apart and let her look directly inside.

Abby, you'd whisper. I love you more than I value my own sister.

The confession would leave your mouth before you could stop it.

You'd watch her eyes widen.

You'd probably start crying.

I need your body beside mine the way rivers need stones, you'd tell her. The current still moves without them... but it loses the shape that makes it beautiful.

Your throat would tighten.

The words would keep coming anyway.

I need to die before you.

You imagined yourself begging.

Please.

Please let me be buried first.

The thought lodged inside your chest with frightening certainty.

I need to be gone long before you ever are.

You could almost see the horror spreading across her face.

She'd tell you not to say things like that.

She'd call you dramatic.

She'd cup your face in both hands and make you promise.

But she wouldn't understand.

Because if I wasn't dead enough...

Your eyes burned.

If there was even the smallest piece of me left... I'd crawl back out of the earth just to kiss you one more time.

You swallowed hard as tears finally slipped free, disappearing into the pillow beneath your head.

Every cell in my body reaches for you, you thought helplessly. It reaches for you harder than it reaches for life itself.

And somehow...

That frightened you far less than the possibility of living in a world where she no longer existed.

She lifted herself just enough to brush her lips across the tears gathering beneath your eyes, kissing each one away with slow, careful affection. Her thumb lingered against your cheek, smoothing away the dampness before another tear could fall.

"Don't cry," she cooed softly, her forehead settling against yours.

You nodded without trusting yourself to speak, leaning instinctively into the comfort of her mouth as she continued scattering gentle kisses across your face.

After a long moment, she pulled back just far enough to study you. Her eyes searched yours carefully before a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"Do you want to get cleaned up," she asked quietly, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your forehead, "or do you want to take a nap?"

You shook your head immediately. "I want to get cleaned up," you murmured.

She nodded once before slipping an arm beneath your knees and another behind your back. With effortless ease, she lifted you from the bed, carrying you bridal style toward the bathroom. Your face disappeared into the curve of her neck while she reached over to turn the shower on, never setting you down as steam slowly began filling the room.

She waited patiently until the water warmed before lowering you onto your feet. Even then you stayed pressed against her, your forehead resting against her chest while she stepped out of the last of her clothes. Her fingers absentmindedly combed through your hair as she reached behind you to test the spray one final time.

Your eyes drifted toward the mirror.

The bruises were still there.

Faint now.

Yellowing around the edges.

But still unmistakable.

Your stomach tightened at the sight.

She caught your hand before you could look any longer and intertwined her fingers with yours. "Come here," she whispered, guiding you beneath the warm stream.

The heat wrapped around both of you immediately. Water rolled over your shoulders and down your backs while she slipped both arms around you, holding you close enough that your bodies swayed together beneath the spray. Neither of you spoke for several moments. She simply rocked you gently from side to side, letting the warmth soak into your skin.

"I want to die first," you whispered at last, your voice nearly disappearing beneath the sound of the water. It was the first time you had ever spoken the thought aloud.

Her body stilled.

She swallowed before tightening her arms around you. "No," she said quietly, shaking her head against your temple.

You closed your eyes. "I have to."

She released a slow breath through her nose before forcing a small smile onto her face. Reaching for the soap, she lathered it between her palms, trying to pull the conversation somewhere gentler.

"Sorry," she said with an exaggerated shrug, a teasing smile touching her lips. "I've already decided I'm dying first."

You frowned immediately.

She noticed.

Her smile softened as she began carefully washing your arm, her fingertips moving slowly over your skin. "Let's not think about that," she whispered.

You watched the soap disappear beneath the water before lifting your eyes back to her. "You don't want to know what I think about?" you asked quietly.

One of her eyebrows rose as a small laugh escaped her. "What do you mean?" she asked while continuing to wash your shoulder. "Your thoughts?"

"My brain," you corrected softly. "The things I think about in my brain."

She shrugged, completely unconcerned. "You can tell me," she said gently as she moved to your chest, spreading the soap carefully across your skin.

You drew in a slow breath. "Okay."

The word left your mouth quietly as you tried to gather enough courage to explain something that had always made perfect sense inside your own head.

She crouched down to wash your stomach and your legs, occasionally glancing up at you as though she could already tell you were struggling to find the words. Confusion had begun settling across her face before you'd even spoken.

"I think about..." You swallowed hard. "That I'm a rock."

She blinked before a bewildered laugh escaped her. "What?"

You immediately looked away.

It had sounded beautiful inside your own head.

Now it only sounded strange.

"No," you said quickly, shaking your head before correcting yourself. "You're the river."

She stood again, turning you gently so she could wash your back. The soap slid slowly between your shoulder blades while she listened without interrupting.

"And I'm the rocks that hold your water," you whispered, your eyes settling on the white tile beneath your feet. "My body was carved into the shape it is only so it could carry you."

A long silence followed.

Finally, she smiled. "Is that so?" she asked softly, her hand gliding carefully down your back.

You nodded. "Sometimes..." You hesitated before letting out a quiet breath. "Sometimes I'm a salmon too."

She smiled wider, though there was curiosity in her eyes now instead of amusement. As she knelt to wash your legs, she glanced back up at you. "Oh yeah?" she asked.

You nodded again. "And you're the bear."

Her movements slowed.

"You rip me apart while I'm still alive," you continued, staring at the water circling the drain. "You catch me while I'm still fighting." Your voice remained strangely calm despite the images taking shape in your mind. "I thrash and I bleed and I keep trying to escape you..."

She stopped washing you altogether.

The cloth rested forgotten in her hand.

"But eventually," you whispered, "I stop fighting."

The bathroom fell impossibly quiet except for the steady rush of water around your ankles.

"I let you eat me." You swallowed. "I let every piece of me become part of you."

Her chest rose slowly with a careful breath.

"Donna," she said softly, reaching for your face instead of the soap. Her wet hands cupped your cheeks with impossible tenderness, encouraging you to look at her. Concern clouded her expression now, her thumb stroking gently beneath your eye. 

"I'm sorry I was so horrible," she whispered, her wet hands lingering against your face as her eyes searched yours with an uncertainty you had never seen before.

You immediately shook your head.

"If you were that terrible..." You swallowed around the tightness gathering in your throat before finally forcing yourself to look at her again. "...then what does that make me for still loving you?"

She stared at you in silence.

The water continued running between you while a fragile  light flickeredd behind her pale blue eyes. Her gaze trembled ever so slightly before she shook her head.

"Don't say that," she exhaled quietly, her thumb brushing beneath your eye.

You licked your lips.

"Sometimes you're a spider," you admitted softly, watching the water swirl around your feet. "And I'm caught in your web."

A quiet laugh escaped her nose.

"What am I now?" she asked, tilting her head as she reached for the soap again. "The spider?"

You tipped your head back, looking toward the ceiling as warm water rolled over your face.

"The river," you answered with a small smile. "That's why I cried."

She laughed more freely this time, the sound echoing softly against the tile.

"I'm glad I'm not still the bear," she said as she rinsed the soap from your shoulder. She paused before smiling to herself. "...or the spider."

You lowered your eyes until they met hers again.

Her blue eyes always reminded you of deep water.

Beautiful enough to drown in.

"One day..." you whispered, your smile fading as quickly as it had come. "One day I'm going to have to die."

Her hands stopped moving.

Her brows slowly drew together while the water continued pouring over both of you.

You swallowed.

"The maggots..." Your voice nearly disappeared beneath the spray. "...they'll hear your voice calling my name while they eat my brain."

Tears gathered quietly in your eyes.

"They'll feel your fingers while they consume my flesh."

A soft, broken laugh slipped from you despite yourself.

"And the mushrooms..." You blinked, letting another tear disappear beneath the shower water before it reached your chin. "...the mushrooms that bloom around my body will sing songs about how much I adored you."

Silence settled between you.

She simply stared.

You leaned forward first as she stood up.

Your lips brushed hers gently, lingering there for a long moment before you whispered against her mouth. "I would do anything in this world for you."

A slow smile spread across her face.

"I never knew you were so literary," she chuckled, resting her forehead against yours. "Maybe..." She smiled to herself before brushing another kiss across your lips. "...tomorrow you can tell me your favorite book." She studied your face fondly. "I love poetry."

You searched her eyes with quiet suspicion. "Since when?" you asked, a small smile tugging at your mouth.

She shrugged lightly while turning you beneath the shower, carefully rinsing the soap from your shoulders and chest. "Since forever," she said with an easy breath.

You watched her in silence while she rinsed the last of the soap from your stomach. "What am I?" you asked quietly.

She didn't answer immediately.

Instead she thought, her hands moving absentmindedly over your skin while she searched for the right image.

Finally she smiled. "A doe," she said softly.

You nodded once, waiting.

She stepped closer again.

"In my mind," she murmured as her fingers traced slowly along your back, "you're a doe I've chased for miles."

Her smile became smaller. "I've scared away wolves." She paused. "I've killed hunters trying to reach you."

Her eyes drifted downward.

"But when I finally catch you..." She swallowed before looking back into your eyes. "...I can't bring myself to kill you."

Your eyebrows lifted.

"So I keep you," she whispered with a shy smile. "I build you somewhere safe." Her fingers slid gently through your wet hair before resting against your cheek. "I bring you everything I can carry while my own belly grows emptier."

She laughed quietly to herself.

"I think..." Her smile turned almost embarrassed. "...I'd let myself starve if it meant watching you wander peacefully through the forest I burned down trying to protect you."

You frowned thoughtfully before a small smile crept onto your face. "I like mine better," you admitted.

She laughed again, the heaviness between you finally beginning to dissolve as she leaned forward to kiss your forehead.

"Me too," she murmured warmly.

have we ever had this much romance in Gun Metal?

Masterlist

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Arlecchino is looking very dad-like with those slippers and pajama pants. All she needs is a goofy looking sleeping cap to top it off and she looks like a true “papa.”

I can imagine her frustratedly walking over to the kids’ bedroom late at night if they make too much noise. Dressed in true dad fashion, she has a disapproving frown on her face to complete her dad look.

“It’s two am…!” She scolds in a hushed voice, “Your mother is trying to sleep and I have work in the morning.”

“…Sorry father.”

She just has the classic angry dad look with her stupidly cute pajamas. She’s mad she had to wake up and get out of bed, pull away from her wife just so she can tell your kids to tone it down. She even grumbles under her breath as she sinks back into the covers, kicking off her slippers so she can spoon you properly.