lei ᥫ᭡⋆˙

ᯓ yearner!abby headcanons

extras. random shorts, yearning and not earning </3

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

yearner!abby who has a polaroid of you and her taped above her bed frame. it was a photograph that leah took during the trip to jackson. abby was seen in multiple photos with her other friends, but this one was by far her favorite.

the fire crackles low, painting the cabin walls in gold and shadow. snow whispers against the windows, but inside—warmth and softness.

you’re curled into abby’s side on the couch, head leaning on her shoulder almost like it belonged there.

she doesn’t dare to move, she barely breathes.

her hands are locked together in front of herself like she can hold it all in—but they twitch anyway, desperate to reach down and touch.

a faint click.

abby’s eyes snap forward as leah lowers her camera from her face with a soft smirk.

“i want it,” abby says quickly—too fast—and juts out her hand before leah can even react.

“hold up,” leah laughs gently, waving it once through the air without breaking eye contact from its growing image. “gotta make sure it looks-“

“it’s fine, just give it to me.” abby cuts in, voice low but urgent.

a beat. leah finally glances up at her and gives in with a sigh. she presses the polaroid into abby’s waiting hand.

as soon as abby got back home to seattle, she taped it up.

yearner!abby who tries her best to not show how upset she is when you don’t get paired up together for assignments.

she stares at the assignment sheet in front of her, searching the entire paper for your name. her stomach drops before she even sees it.

you both have been separated.

she doesn’t react, not outwardly.

she just folds her arms tighter, jaw locking like she can clamp down the wrongness of it all.

she doesn’t know what owen is trying to say. she’s half in and half out in every conversation, even her kills are sloppy and risky.

owen leans into her space and mutters low, “are you going to tell me what’s wrong…abigail?”

abby grunts. her day is ruined, and her disappointment is immeasurable. why did issac have to assign you with someone else? now she’s more worried about your safety rather than her own.

god, she just wants to see you.

yearner!abby who unknowingly seeks out your approval.

after every stupid joke she makes, you’re the first one she looks at, just patiently waiting to see your smile and the familiar sound of your laughter.

she always felt much more confident and gained a sense of pride when you paid attention to her and recognized her, even if it was for something as small as laughing at her crappy jokes.

and it’s more than just the jokes.

when she finally beats her previous personal record in the gym, she scans the room—not for issac’s nod or manny’s praise—but for you. she waits until you glance over before letting herself smile.

she values your opinion more than anything or anyone, and to her, it’s the only important thing.

yearner!abby who is utterly obsessed and in love with you.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

ᯓ abby needs her braid to be done a certain way but lets you try regardless.

extras. filler post, short, soft moments with abby

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

moonlight spills through the glass windows of abby and manny's shared apartment, painting silver streaks across the worn carpet floor. you're both barefoot, sitting cross-legged on an old blanket that abby dragged out from underneath her bed with a dramatic, "the floor is gross. who knows what manny has done in here."

she spent all day bargaining with him just to have the room for one night—no interruptions. just you. it wasn't meant to be taken as romantic, but that's what manny thought when he finally gave in.

now, she's finally alone with you, and your fingers are more tangled than her hair.

you're leaning back against her small bed; abby sits between your legs, her broad shoulders nearly blocking out everything in front of you. her dirty blonde strands tumble over one shoulder as you gather another section carefully.

"left side is too chunky," she murmurs, voice warm but teasing. there's that familiar edge that makes your cheeks go warm.

her hand covers yours lightly—not pulling away, but helping re-sort strands between trembling fingers. why are they shaking?

"will you quit shifting around so much? you're messing me up."

you're so focused on trying to get her fishtail braid perfect, and she won't stop criticizing you and picking at it, which doesn't help. her hand goes back in to hand you another lock of hair, and you softly smack it away, not like it would do any damage against her rough skin.

"don't do that either! i can do it myself," you scold her, and she surprisingly listens?

abby can feel your soft laugh because of the close proximity, and she can smell your soft scent. being this close to you always drives her crazy, whether you see her as just a friend or more. she spends every second of her life thinking about the day you went up to her and spoke; it lingers in her mind even during her sleep.

she doesn't mention why she never spoke to you prior; she can't; it would just ruin everything, which makes things worse in the best possible way—because now every time your fingers brush against the nape of her neck or graze behind her ear while reattempting the braid... a shock zips through her skin that makes her feel so good.

there's warmth everywhere now—from her forehead and down past her chest and into her stomach.

and then, laughter breaks through again because suddenly half of the "braid" has come undone and puffed out wildly.

she whirls around, playfully grabbing a pillow off her bed, ready to swing because you're sitting here laughing at how ridiculous she looks, but she stops when she focuses on you: in a fit of giggles with a pressing palm over your mouth.

silence drops softer this time, filled only with breathing slowing down, heartbeat thundering loud enough she swears that she could hear it.

a stroke of silence passes between the two of you, one of the most charged moments you've ever experienced with her.

abby exhales, shaky breaths as her pupils flicker between your eyes and lips. it's embarrassing how many times she's thought about turning around and kissing you throughout this entire process. internally, she's screaming at herself to not ruin the moment, and thankfully you are there to interrupt her thoughts.

"hey... um," your voice cuts softly, breaking the tension. "where's manny?"

a beat passes before her answer comes out flat and forced, "oh—he's out, sleeping over with some girl or something." she slowly pulls backwards, stretching her arms, faking nonchalance and failing spectacularly.

she doesn't mention the items she gave up for the apartment or her entire week that she sacrificed for cleaning so manny would stop asking about who was staying over. you simply nod at her statement, unaware of the sacrifices that had to be made.

your gaze follows her arms as she finally takes control and reaches for her hair, dividing each section precisely. there is a certain care in her movements that draws you in; everything is effortless and far different from the method you attempted.

at the end of the day, abby knows that she needs her hair to be set in a specific way, but she still lets you try because it's you, and she would sacrifice anything if it meant being able to see that smile on your face.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

ᯓ abby engages in small talk with everyone except for you.

extras. ooc (?), abby is a big shy baby, she’s actually a sweetie

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

abby anderson, who has claimed that the only way she knew of your existence was because of the very few glances she gives you around the stadium. anytime abby was focused on a task, you just happen to be around to distract her. what abby doesn't like to admit is the fact that she's well aware of your reputation within the wlf.

everyone in the large group knew her; she was hard to miss—abby anderson, top scar killer, the one who trained twice as hard as anyone else, the one who was friendly and open towards everyone. but you? you noticed other things about abby.

the way she would pause mid-workout when she thought no one was looking, letting out shaky breaths, her braid messy and sticking up in different directions because of her sweat. the way she'd roll her shoulders, pretending not to glance in your direction whenever you spoke in conversations.

most of all, you noticed how she never approached you.

you silently watched as she spoke to men, women, hell, even the dogs. it could be something small, and abby would still have a reply. for example, that one time you were heading in the same direction as her, some guard called out her name, "hey abby," and she was quick to respond with a "heyya" before going back to her task.

it keeps happening.

you watch her sling an arm around nora's shoulders after training, breathless and grinning. you see her playfully bicker with manny about something stupid that happened in their shared apartment. but when you passed her in the hallway?

a grunt. she became stiff, and her smile suddenly disappeared.

you start to wonder if you've done something wrong. but how! you've never been in contact with her. was it your laugh that was annoying? or the way you ramble when you're nervous or excited? or maybe it's when you-

truth is, it was for those exact reasons.

the first time you really notice abby is when she's mid-bench press in the wlf gym—205 pounds of clanging iron and snarling effort—until she hears the sound of your soft laughter coming from the doors towards the entrance. that's when the bar slips.

manny, who's right beside her spotting her, cackles as she nearly crushes her own windpipe. a rare sight: abby anderson messing up. "ay, you okay abs? you blinking' now?"

abby doesn't answer, just stares at the ceiling, cheeks flushed with a please god let me die look in her eyes, while you—clueless of the effect you had on her—head towards your favorite spot with your friend. for a minute or two, people stare at abby, faces filled with worry, but as she sits herself up they are quick to return to their own reps.

the second time it happens is in the mess hall. abby is taking large bites of her burrito like it's a chore—until she hears your voice. you're talking to your friend once again about some book that you're into, your hands are waving and there is that stupid smile on your face, and abby nearly chokes on her food.

manny pauses his conversation with jordan and begins thumping her back, grinning. "are you good abs?"

"i'm fine," she grits out, wiping her mouth aggressively. she looks down at her boots, ears burning as she sees you start to make your way towards her table.

across the room, you don't notice, of course, too busy laughing at your own words, head thrown back, oblivious of the way abby is gripping the rest of her burrito. you begin to walk towards the trash can so you can make room for others, but then-

"nice to see you too, y/n," jordan calls out, causing you to stop in your tracks. almost instantly, your face lights up as you engage in a small conversation with the two men.

abby doesn’t do anything besides continue to stare at the concrete floor, her jaw locked tight, and her face does this thing: cheeks flushing, lips pressed into a line like she's mentally cursing the universe.

of fucking course. jordan just had to call you over. and you, being the person that you are, just had to-

"hey abby."

her eyes widen, all corded muscle and sudden panic, bracing herself for the look in your eyes.

the truth and complete honesty that abby anderson doesn't admit to anyone-not even herself-is that she's hopelessly, pathetically gone for you.

she plays it cool most days, with a neutral expression and calm body language. but underneath all of that? when she's alone? she's a complete mess.

abby thinks that your laugh is too bright, too alive. she loves it. she just hates how her stomach knots every time she hears it, and she hates that the reason you're laughing is not because of her. when it comes to your dumb rambles, abby is two feet away, pretending to clean her gun, memorizing every absurd word. she's just upset that it's not meant for her to listen to.

"...hey" she mumbles, scared that if she says it too rough then you might walk away.

was it the smile on your face that almost killed her that day? or the fact that you stood so close she could recognize the scent of soap you used? could've been that you actually came up to her and spoke.

abby anderson who became addicted to listening to your voice, as if she wasn't before.

now, anytime you were slightly in her field of view, she called out for you, interrupting you when you spoke to others or when you were busy. others began to notice that her conversations with you were lengthy compared to the rest, and everyone slowly started to figure out how obsessed she was over you. :)

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ