#nerdabby

Abby anderson x ellie Williams x oc

Warnings : love triangle , pining, aggression, slow burn

Description: When Abby Anderson, the seemingly untouchable football captain, secretly falls for sarcastic drummer Jorden, she finds herself trapped in a messy love triangle with her needy best friend Ellie—who's crushing on both of them—forcing Abby to confront her inner "loser" or risk losing everything she's pretending to protect.

The locker room smelled like old sweat and cheap disinfectant. Abby slammed her locker shut harder than necessary. "Coach wants extra laps again tomorrow."

Ellie adjusted her glasses, struggling with her cleat laces. "At least it's not raining this time." She paused, squinting at Abby. "You've been weirdly tense all week. Everything okay?"

Abby ripped a stray thread from her jersey sleeve, avoiding Ellie's curious gaze. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, making the damp tiles gleam. "Just tired," she mumbled, the lie tasting sour. Across the room, Jordan fumbled with her drumsticks, stuffing them into a battered backpack covered in band patches. Her short, choppy hair stuck up in sweaty tufts.

Jordan's drumsticks clattered to the floor. Abby flinched at the sharp sound, her gaze snapping to the messy-haired girl scrambling to pick them up. Ellie followed Abby's stare, a slow grin spreading across her face. "Ohhh," she breathed, nudging Abby's shoulder. "Is *that* why you're all wound up?"

Abby shoved Ellie away harder than intended, her knuckles whitening around her jersey. "Shut up," she growled, heat creeping up her neck. Jordan finally retrieved her sticks, slinging the backpack over one shoulder. Her eyes flickered toward them—just for a second—before she hurried out the swinging doors. Abby’s stomach tightened. That glance hadn't landed on her. It had landed squarely on Ellie, lingering a fraction too long on Ellie’s crooked smile.

Ellie chuckled, low and knowing, as she finally wrestled her cleat tight. "Relax, big guy. You're gonna pop a vein." She nodded toward the empty doorway where Jordan had vanished. "Though I gotta admit... she's got decent taste." Abby's glare could've melted steel, but Ellie just winked, hoisting her own bag. "See you at practice. Try not to murder the woodwinds when they start tuning."

The next morning’s sun glared off the dew-slicked turf as Abby paced the sidelines. Her cleats dug into the grass, each step deliberate. Across the field, the marching band’s brass section warmed up with screeching scales that grated like nails on chalkboard. Ellie jogged past, tossing a water bottle her way. "Still breathing fire, I see."

Abby caught it without looking, her eyes fixed on the percussion section. Jordan stood near the back, adjusting a snare drum strap, her movements quick and efficient. When Jordan laughed at something the cymbal player said, Abby felt that familiar twist in her gut—sharp and inconvenient. She crushed the water bottle in her fist, plastic crackling like dry leaves. Ellie whistled low beside her. "Someone's got it bad."

Jordan's drumming solo sliced through the halftime chaos—sharp, staccato bursts that echoed off the bleachers. Abby leaned against the chain-link fence, knuckles white. Each beat felt like a hammer strike to her ribs. The crowd roared, but Abby only saw Jordan's focused intensity, sweat glistening on her temple as she drove the rhythm forward. Ellie nudged her. "Stop staring like a starving wolf, Anderson. It's creepy." Abby jerked away, cheeks burning.

A stray football spiraled suddenly from the scrimmage line, arcing high over the band formation. Time slowed. Abby tracked its path—headed straight for Jordan’s oblivious profile. Jordan tapped her drumsticks absently, eyes fixed on the conductor. The ball spun, leather gleaming under stadium lights. Someone shouted a warning, swallowed by brass. Jordan didn’t flinch.

Ellie moved before the shout fully registered—a blur of cleats tearing across damp grass. She lunged, fingers stretching wide as the football spun toward Jordan’s temple. Leather slapped hard into her palms, the impact jolting up her arms. She stumbled sideways, glasses askew, but held firm.

Jordan blinked, drumsticks frozen mid-air. The sudden blur of motion resolved into Ellie breathing hard just inches away, grass-stained knees trembling. Sweat plastered Ellie's dark hair to her forehead, her glasses crooked, the football gripped tight against her muddy practice jersey. The scent of damp earth and exertion hit Jordan first, sharp and immediate. "Whoa," Jordan breathed, her voice barely audible over the fading cymbal crash behind her. Her gaze traced the line from Ellie's determined scowl to the football, then back to Ellie's flushed face. A slow realization dawned – that ball had been seconds from cracking her skull.

Jordan’s drumsticks slipped from her grasp, clattering onto the snare drum’s taut head with a hollow thud. Her eyes widened, flickering from the football still clutched in Ellie’s hands to Ellie herself—the fierce set of her jaw, the rapid rise and fall of her chest beneath the stained jersey, the way a bead of sweat traced a path down her temple and vanished into her collar. The stadium noise—the band’s fading notes, the distant roar of the crowd—seemed to mute into a dull buzz. "You..." Jordan stammered, her voice thin. "That was... aimed right at me , shit i gotta look out better ."

Jordan swallowed hard, the drumsticks forgotten at her feet. "Fuck," she breathed, a shaky laugh escaping her. "That was... impressive." Her eyes stayed locked on Ellie, taking in the grass stains on her knees, the crooked glasses, the way Ellie’s knuckles were still white around the football’s laces. A slow, disbelieving smile spread across Jordan’s face.

Jordan stared, really stared this time. The crooked glasses, the messy dark hair plastered to her forehead, the fierce scowl softening into awkwardness now the danger had passed. Recognition clicked, sharp and sudden. "Wait..." Jordan breathed, leaning in slightly. "You're... Ellie Williams? From Pre-Calc? The one with the..." She gestured vaguely toward Ellie's torso, though her usual Spider-Man shirt was hidden under the muddy practice jersey.

Jordan's smile widened, genuine surprise lighting her eyes. "Yeah, that's definitely you. Always scribbling equations in that galaxy-printed notebook." She chuckled softly, the sound warm against the fading brass notes. Her gaze dropped to the football still pressed against Ellie's muddy jersey. "Didn't peg you for a linebacker, Williams."

Ellie shifted her weight, suddenly hyper-aware of the dirt smeared across her jersey. avoiding Jordan’s direct gaze. The football felt heavy and awkward in her hands now. "Mostly just try not to get tackled during drills. Catching rogue balls is... new."

Jordan reached out, her fingers brushing Ellie's cheekbone as she gently nudged the crooked glasses back into place. Her touch lingered, warm against Ellie's flushed skin. "Looks better straight," she murmured, her thumb tracing the frame's edge. The scent of rosin and sweat mingled between them. "Definitely suits the hero look."

Ellie flushed crimson, the heat spreading from her cheeks down her neck. "Uh, yeah, well, guess someone wasn't watching their trajectory," she stammered, fingers tightening on the football's laces. Her gaze darted away from Jordan's intense focus, landing instead on the chaos erupting near the scrimmage line. Abby’s furious voice sliced through the muted stadium noise, sharp and unmistakable. "HEY! DICKHEAD! YOU AIMING FOR THE BAND OR JUST BLIND?!" Abby was storming toward a cowering lineman, fists clenched, her frame radiating pure, incandescent rage.

Ellie flushed deeper crimson, her ears burning as Abby's furious shouts echoed across the field. She glanced frantically between Jordan's soft, lingering smile and Abby's stormcloud approach toward the terrified lineman. Abby's knuckles were white, her shoulders rigid—a volcano about to erupt. "Uh, excuse me," Ellie mumbled, shoving the football clumsily into Jordan's hands. "Gotta... stop a murder."

She sprinted toward Abby, cleats digging into the turf. Abby was inches from the lineman now, her voice a low, dangerous growl. "What the hell is wrong with you? That could've cracked her skull open!" Ellie skidded to a halt, grabbing Abby's elbow just as her fist drew back. "Abs! Cool it!" she hissed, yanking her backward. "He's not worth it!"

Abby jerked her arm free, breath ragged, but her eyes snapped past Ellie toward the percussion section. Jordan stood clutching the football, her expression a mix of confusion and lingering awe as she watched the confrontation unfold. The drumsticks dangled forgotten from her other hand. "She's fine, Abby," Ellie insisted, planting herself firmly between Abby and the trembling lineman. "See? Not a scratch." Abby’s furious glare softened fractionally as she took in Jordan’s unharmed face, the slight tilt of her head as she tried to make sense of the shouting. The football Jordan held gleamed under stadium lights, an anchor in chaos.

Abby’s chest heaved, the lineman’s terrified face blurring as she wrestled down the urge to slam him into the turf. Ellie’s grip on her arm was a tether, but it was Jordan’s wide, unblinking stare from across the field that finally doused the fire. She shoved the lineman backward with a snarl. "Run," she spat, the word sharp as shattered glass. "Twenty laps. Now. And if you ever pull that shit again?" Her knuckles cracked. "You’re off the team." He scrambled away, legs trembling.

Ellie dragged Abby away from the retreating lineman, her fingers digging into the sweat-damp fabric of Abby’s rules." Her voice low and urgent. "You can’t keep exploding like that." The scent of cut grass and Abby’s anger hung heavy between them. Abby shrugged Ellie off violently, shoulders still tense as coiled springs. "Diplomacy?" She spat the word like poison, eyes darting back to Jordan, who was slowly turning away, clutching the football to her chest. "That ball could’ve— "

Ellie kept her voice low, leaning in close as Abby glared at the fleeing lineman. "You think losing your temper like that makes Jordan like you more?" She jabbed a finger toward the percussion section, where Jordan stood clutching the football, her light blue eyes wide with lingering shock. "All she sees is you threatening to break someone’s jaw over a mistake."

Abby whirled around, her furious scowl evaporating as she locked eyes with Jordan clutching the football ten yards away. The flush crept up Abby’s neck like wildfire, painting her cheeks crimson. "J-Jordan," she stammered, voice cracking mid-word, "I—you shouldn’t have to see... that." She gestured weakly toward the fleeing lineman, her knuckles still pale from their earlier grip. "I just... got carried away." The words tumbled out, clumsy and thick, as she awkwardly shoved her hands into her pockets, shoulders hunching inward.

Jordan closed the distance in a few quick strides, the football tucked under her arm. She stopped inches from Abby, her gaze steady despite the lingering tremble in her own hands. "Carried away?" she echoed, a faint smile playing on her lips. Before Abby could fumble another apology, Jordan reached out and patted Abby’s shoulder—a firm, grounding touch. "Thanks," she said quietly, her voice barely audible over the distant chatter of the band packing up. "For caring that much."

Jordan’s hand lingered on Abby’s shoulder, a warm pressure cutting through the cool stadium air. She leaned in close, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur that only Abby could hear. "Honestly?" Her breath brushed Abby’s ear. "Watching you get all worked up like that?" A slow, deliberate smile spread across Jordan’s face. "Kind of hot." She gave Abby’s shoulder one final, firm pat and pulled back, holding her gaze just long enough for the words to land like a punch to the gut. Then, without another glance, she turned and walked briskly back toward the percussion section, the football tucked casually under her arm. Abby stood frozen, the scent of Jordan’s rosin and sweat hanging in the air long after she’d gone, the unexpected compliment echoing louder than any drum solo.

Abby stood frozen on the dew-slicked grass, Jordan’s words— “kind of hot” —echoing in her skull like a drumroll. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic counter-rhythm to the distant clatter of cymbals being packed away. She could still feel the phantom warmth of Jordan’s hand on her shoulder, the ghost of her breath against her ear. The world blurred at the edges, stadium lights bleeding into a haze. *She said hot. About me.* The realization sent a fresh wave of heat flooding her face, hotter than any sprint drill.

Ellie stared at Abby’s stunned expression, the crimson flush spreading from her neck to her ears. She crossed her arms, her own annoyance sharpening as Abby remained frozen, eyes locked on Jordan’s retreating figure. "Earth to Abby," she snapped, waving a hand in front of Abby’s dazed face. "You gonna stand there all day looking like a tomato?" Abby blinked, finally tearing her gaze away, but Ellie caught the lingering spark in her eyes—the one that had nothing to do with anger. Jealousy twisted in Ellie’s gut, hot and unexpected. She’d been the one who *caught* the damn ball, ‘ Why doesn’t abby ever look at me like that’ ellie thought

The janitor's mop bucket clattered against the locker room doorframe, sloshing gray water onto the tiles. Coach Miller barely glanced up from his clipboard. "Anderson, Williams—hit the showers. You reek like yesterday's gym socks." He scribbled something illegible, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like angry wasps

.

The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting stark shadows across Coach Miller's furrowed brow as he tapped his clipboard. Abby peeled her sweat-soaked jersey away from her skin, the damp fabric clinging stubbornly. Ellie nudged her shoulder, voice low. "Still replaying that 'kind of hot' comment?" Abby jerked away, heat flaring across her cheeks again. "Shut it, Williams." She slammed her locker open, the metallic bang echoing in the sudden quiet as the coach stalked out

.

The lukewarm shower spray hit Abby’s shoulders like a dull reprimand. She scrubbed at her skin with mechanical intensity, trying to erase the phantom imprint of Jordan’s hand—that firm, lingering pat—and the whispered words that clung like steam. *Kind of hot.* The cheap soap foamed uselessly against the memory. Beside her, Ellie stood silent under her own stream, water plastering dark strands to her temples as she stared fixedly at the cracked tile wall. The only sounds were the drumming water and the distant clang of locker doors from the main room

.

Abby tugged her hoodie over damp hair, the coarse fabric scraping against her flushed skin. Ellie slammed her locker shut beside her, the sound sharp in the emptying room. "Still glowing, Anderson?" Ellie's voice cut through the steam, edged with something brittle. Abby ignored her, fumbling with her backpack zipper. The phantom warmth of Jordan's hand lingered on her shoulder, a brand beneath the cotton

.

Ellie shoved past Abby toward the exit, shoulder clipping hers with unnecessary force. "Move it, lover girl." Her voice dripped acid. Abby stumbled sideways, catching herself on a locker door. The metal rattled, loud in the sudden silence. Ellie didn’t look back, pushing through the swinging doors into the hallway beyond. Abby stared after her, knuckles white around her backpack strap. The phantom warmth on her shoulder vanished, replaced by a cold prickle of confusion.

Ellie’s footsteps echoed down the hallway, sharp and retreating. Abby stared at the swinging doors long after they’d stilled, the cold prickle on her shoulder spreading into her chest. She shoved her hands deep into her hoodie pockets, fingers brushing against crumpled gum wrappers and loose change. The locker room felt cavernous now, empty except for the drip of a distant showerhead and the stale scent of sweat trapped in damp corners. Abby’s backpack strap dug into her shoulder as she finally turned away, pushing through the doors herself. The hallway fluorescents buzzed, bleaching the scuffed linoleum floor white.

Abby shoved through the hallway doors, the fluorescent glare making her squint. Ellie was already halfway down the corridor, shoulders rigid beneath her faded band hoodie, walking fast. Abby hesitated, then lengthened her stride. "Williams! Hold up!" Ellie didn't slow, didn't turn. Her footsteps echoed louder, purposeful. Abby broke into a jog, her own backpack thumping awkwardly against her hip. "Ellie, damn it!" She caught Ellie's elbow just as they reached the stairwell landing.

(Abby Anderson x oc)

Content warning: threesome, semi smut, butchxfem , slight makeout

Description : abby gets a text from one of her hookups, while trying to get frisky with her fb, her roommate interrupts ultimately flirting with Abby’s fb a

Abby stepped into the dorm's lobby, her heart racing as she checked her phone for the hundredth time. The glow of the screen reflected off her glasses, casting a blue hue over her cheeks. The message was clear: "Come over tonight." It had been a week since she last saw the girl with the piercing blue eyes, the one who made her knees wobble and her thoughts scatter like leaves in a storm. The anticipation had been building, a tight coil in her stomach that she could hardly contain.

The elevator dinged, and she stepped in, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. She knew her roommate, Jenny, was probably going to be there, studying as usual. They were two very different people, sharing a space that was too small for their clashing personalities. Jenny was butch, a no-nonsense woman who loved the structure of coding and the predictability of algorithms. Abby, on the other hand, was more of a free spirit, a sub nerd who loved to explore the uncharted waters of cybersecurity. But tonight, she had other things on her mind.

As she approached her door, she saw the silhouette of the girl she had been longing to kiss again, waiting outside. Before she could even insert her key, the girl stepped forward, her eyes locking onto Abby's with a hungry intensity. They collided into each other, their lips crashing together like waves against a shore. The girl's hands tangled in Abby's hair as they stumbled into the room, the door barely catching the frame before it swung shut behind them.

On the other side of the thin wall, Jenny's head snapped up from her textbook, a furrow forming between her brows. She had been deep in concentration, trying to decode the latest cryptographic challenge for her cybersecurity class. The sudden sound of passionate whispers and smacking lips was like nails on a chalkboard to her focused mind. With a sigh of frustration, she threw a pillow at the wall in their direction. It bounced off harmlessly, the sound muffled by the intensity of their embrace.

Abby, only partially aware of the disturbance, pulled away for a moment, her cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. She caught sight of Jenny, her roommate's expression a mix of shock and annoyance. The realization that they weren't alone hit her like a cold splash of water, and she felt a rush of embarrassment. But the desire that had been simmering inside her for days was too strong to be doused by a simple look. She leaned in for another kiss, her hand sliding around the girl's waist to pull her closer, ignoring the awkwardness of the situation.

Jenny's eyes narrowed as she slammed her book shut with a loud thud. "Seriously, Abby?" she called out, her voice a mix of anger and exasperation. "Can't you two keep it down? Some of us are trying to study here!"

Abby huffed, breaking the kiss but keeping her arms wrapped around the girl. She turned to face Jenny, her eyes flashing with a bit of irritation. "What's your problem?" she asked, her voice muffled by the girl's shoulder. "You're always holed up in here studying. Why don't you just go to the party?"

Jenny's jaw tightened as she picked up the pillow that had fallen to the floor. "Because, unlike some people, I have priorities," she shot back, her voice echoing the thump of her book. "And my scholarship doesn't pay for itself. Besides, it's not like you've ever invited me to any of those 'nerd parties' you and your friends have."

Abby's face grew redder as she realized she had been caught in the act. She had always wanted to seem cool and unflappable around this particular girl, the one who had captured her heart with a single glance at the university's hackathon. But now, she was just a mess of nerdy awkwardness, her glasses askew and her hair a wild tangle. She opened her mouth to respond, trying to come up with a smooth lie that would somehow salvage the situation, but the words that came out were a jumbled mess.

Her hookup, amused by the interruption, couldn't help but laugh, the sound a sweet melody that filled the room. She gently peeled Abby's arms from around her waist and took a step back. "Don't worry about it, Jenny," she said with a wink, her voice dripping with charm. "We'll keep it down. Promise."

Jenny's eyes narrowed as the girl sauntered closer, her confidence radiating like a force field. "What's your name, anyway?" she asked, her tone cool and collected.

"It's Luna," she replied, her smile not wavering. "But you can call me whatever you want, as long as you're smiling."

Jenny's eyes narrowed further, the unspoken challenge in her gaze. "I'm not really into... fems who top subs," she said, her voice low and steady. It was a clear line drawn in the sand, a declaration of her boundaries.

Luna looked from Jenny to Abby, a flicker of confusion crossing her features. "What's she talking about?" she whispered into Abby's ear, her breath warm and sweet.

Abby froze, her cheeks burning brighter than the neon lights of the arcade they had visited on their first date. She hadn't told Luna about her submissive side, not yet. It was something she had kept hidden, even from her closest friends. But now, in the stark light of their dorm room, with Jenny's accusatory glare boring into her, the truth was out there, and she couldn't take it back.

Luna pulled away, a puzzled expression clouding her features. "Abby, what's going on?" she asked, her voice a whisper of concern. "You said you were the one in control."

Abby's eyes darted to the floor, avoiding Luna's gaze. "It's complicated," she mumbled, her voice barely audible. The room felt smaller, the air thick with unspoken secrets and the weight of Jenny's judgmental stare.

Jenny, however, didn't miss a beat. She barked a laugh, loud and forced. "Oh, come on," she said, her voice dripping with feigned amusement. "I was just kidding. You know how I like to stir the pot." She winked at Luna, trying to play it off as a joke. "I'm the one who's always in control, not her. She's just too much of a goody-two-shoes to admit it."

Luna's eyes lit up with curiosity, and she took the bait, turning her attention to Jenny. "Really?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. "I never would've guessed that."

Jenny shrugged, her lips curling into a smug smile. "It's all about keeping things interesting," she said, her voice dropping an octave as she took a step closer to Luna. "You know, a little bit of give and take."

Her eyes flicked to Abby, who was still standing there, looking like she wanted to melt into the floor. With a quick mental pivot, Jenny decided that maybe she could use this to her advantage. If she could keep Luna's focus on her, maybe it would give Abby some space to get her thoughts in order. "So, what do you say, Luna?" she asked, leaning against the wall. "Want to take a break from the sub-dom scene and see what it's like to be with someone who knows the real power of a good code?"

Before Abby could react, Luna stepped closer to Jenny, her gaze intense. "Is that a challenge?" she asked, a glint in her eye. Jenny felt a thrill run through her as she realized she might have found someone who could match her, someone who understood the thrill of the chase and the allure of power.

Without waiting for a response, Luna leaned in and kissed Jenny, her lips demanding and unyielding. Jenny's initial surprise was quickly replaced by a surge of excitement. It was a bold move, one that she hadn't seen coming. But as she kissed Luna back, she felt the power shift in the room. Her hand slid up to cup Luna's cheek, her thumb tracing the line of her jaw as she took control of the kiss. It was a dance, a silent negotiation of dominance and submission that played out between them in a heartbeat.

Abby watched, stunned, as the scene unfolded before her. She felt like an intruder in her own space, a forgotten character in a play she had written herself. Her eyes darted between the two women, their bodies now pressed tightly together, the sparks flying between them palpable. It was mesmerizing and terrifying all at once.

As Jenny's hand came up to cup Luna's cheek, Abby saw the faintest glimpse of something she had never seen before in Jenny's eyes—fear, perhaps? But it was quickly replaced with a look of determination as Jenny stepped back, breaking the kiss. "I'll leave you two to it," she said, her voice steady despite the heat in her gaze. "But remember, Abby,

I'm always watching."