glass-apothecary

[glass-apothecary]

⋮ ⌗ ┆𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄. ( 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐊𝐀. )

"Don't gotta fight for what is mine (now) You couldn't keep him even if I gave him to you It's just pathetic at this point If you think my baby'll leave me for you (tell the world)..."

౨ৎ - 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒' : "Hi angels! This work is based on the song "All Mine" by Kali Uchis, and all credits go to the artist of the fanart. I couldn't find them. If you know who they are, please tell me."

The bar’s dim, hazy with a soft white light, the air thick with your perfume and smoke. Sevika’s in all black, boots heavy on the floor, thighs spread like sin. Her shirt’s unbuttoned just enough to tease the tattoo curling at her chest, her chain low and glinting under the light.

You're sitting sideways on her lap in the corner booth, drink in one hand, her arm wrapped around your waist. You’re not doing anything loud—just sipping, looking at her from beneath your lashes like you already undressed her twice and she let you.

That’s when she shows up.

Waitress. Tiny little thing. Skirt barely covering her ass, glossy lips too pink to be accidental, button undone that definitely wasn't undone when she served the last table. She's pretty, you give her that—She’s chewing gum and walking like she’s trying to be noticed.

And yeah, Sevika looks up, just to be polite.

“Hey there,” the waitress says, her voice a little too breathy. “I was just wondering if you wanted another round. On me.”

She leans forward, tits pushed together like an offering. She sets the drinks down slow, one nail dragging against Sevika’s fingers. Bold.

You don’t say anything. You don’t even blink, Because Sevika doesn’t pull back.

She doesn’t have to, She just smiles—lazy, like a wolf who’s already full—and turns her head to kiss the side of your neck.

“Nah,” she says, her lips still brushing your skin. “I’ve already got what I want.”

The waitress blinks. Flashes a too-white smile.

“Well… you know where to find me if you change your mind.”—"I won't," Sevika replies flatly, gaze still on you. "But thanks." The waitress walks off, a little flustered now. But still she makes sure to give Sevika a full view when she turns around, hips swaying like a threat.

"Kinda hot watching girls throw themselves at you knowing you'd still crawl back to me." Sevika laughs, real and low, dragging you into her lap with ease

Sevika groans under her breath, eyes flicking down to your legs still draped over hers "You get off on that?" she smirks.

You sigh, sipping your drink. “She’s bold.”

“She’s desperate,” Sevika mutters, one hand sliding higher up your thigh. “Ain’t even subtle with it.”

You lean in close, mouth brushing the shell of her ear. “You could walk in here with your fly unzipped and a sign that says ‘free pussy’ taped to your chest. I still wouldn’t be worried.”

Sevika chuckles, real low. “You shouldn’t be."

And that’s the thing. You know what she looks like. You know how people look at her. You know she’s hot, older, powerful and confident, that she could walk out of here with anyone she wanted.

But she doesn’t—She stays with you. Always does.

“You’re not gonna say anything to her?” you tease. Sevika grins. “What’s there to say? She can try all night, but she’s still gonna end it crying in the staff room while I’m making you come in my backseat.”

You laugh into her mouth as she kisses you again, full, slow and messy. The whole bar could be watching, but she doesn’t care. She wants them to see.

The waitress leans in again like she didn't just get dismissed twenty minutes ago. Like she didn't already try and fail.

"You gonna be busy later?" she asks, with a tone that tries to sound casual-like Sevika hasn't been running her hand up and down your thigh all night. Like you aren't practically seated in her lap.

But the waitress doesn't move.

So Sevika leans back in the booth, spreads her thighs a little wider, lets her prosthetic arm glint in the dim light- and says, "Yeah. I'm gonna be real fucking busy."

The waitress blinks, frozen.

Sevika keeps going. Calm. Lazy. Low.

"I'm gonna press her up against the bathroom sink. Still dressed like this," she says, nodding toward your outfit. "Gonna bend her over with her heels still on, make her look at herself while I fuck her with my fingers."

The waitress is frozen. Mortified. Probably wet.

"So yeah," she says, cocking her head. "I'm real fucking busy tonight."

The waitress swallows. Nods. Mumbles something like "have a good night" before practically stumbling backward.

You don't even pretend to hold back your grin now. You bite your lip and look up at her like she's the only religion you've ever believed in.

"Did you mean all of that?" you ask, lips brushing her ear. "Baby," she says, dragging her hand up your thigh, "I didn't even say the half of it".

౨ৎ - 𝐓aglist ; @prettyinpink69 , @abbysdollie , @marieeeluvsyou , @littlelovelunette , @madzorwhatever , @zvmbitegirl , @salsalsusu , @katarandaa , @starrycherie , @moonshimegf .

[glass-apothecary]

If Abby Anderson had been plus sized in the game and HBO shrank her down for the show, the internet would be on fire.

People would be writing thinkpieces, calling it fatphobia, analyzing every goddamn frame, and frankly, they'd be well within their right to.

Why is it different now?

Why is it okay to completely erase her body and minimize what defined Abby's arc and most importantly, the trauma that led her entire storyline?

Abby wasn't just muscular for aesthetics. I've said it before and I'll say it a million times. Her body told a story of grief, discipline, obsession, and survival. It meant something. To flatten that into something more "palatable" for TV is not some neutral act. It's erasure in a media space that badly needs accurate representation.

Stop acting like it's not a big deal. Stop telling me I'm somehow being mean to Kaitlyn Dever because I'm speaking out about my lived experience. If Abby had been plus sized, this would be a discourse storm and you know it. But she was built like a brick shithouse, and that strength made people super uncomfortable so they downsized her.

Male gazed the everloving shit out of her.

They didn't even bother looking for actresses that better fit the role. They didn't ask Abby's actress to hit the weights like many, many performers before her. She is meant to be a soldier in a militia. Come on, people.

They simply didn't care. And it has fueled the hatred against Abby's game character tenfold as a result. The misinformation about muscular women is skyrocketing and it will only continue to do so.

That should make you just as angry. We're supposed to show up for all women. Not just cherry picking what we think deserves attention.

Fuck Craig Mazin and fuck Neil Druckmann for refusing to acknowledge the hurt here.

And if you're a woman, and you're gaslighting other women into feeling shitty for speaking up about this, give your head a genuine shake.

I show up for your right for representation.

Where are you now?

I'm sick to death of having to defend myself so I'm not doing it anymore. I've been called a misogynist and a body shamer.

What is more misogynistic, more body shaming than erasing a strong ass woman and replacing her with the opposite body type?

Cease with this bullshit.

[glass-apothecary]

u don't know how badly i need more big clit abby...

cockwarming her maybe? while she just sits there so overstimulated? r u seeing my vision?

oh i see your vision and I fucking love it. you're a fucking genius anon!!

⇢ ˗ˏˋbig clit!abby pt iii ࿐ྂ

˗ˏˋabby smut!!´ˎ˗overstimulating big!clit abby — mdni, lowercase intended, smut, mentions of: cockwarming, overstim, oral, fingering, me being too much lol *ೃ༄ pls leave reqs!!

parts: one | two | three

she heaved underneath you, hands gripping at the hem of her sweater that you currently wore. your back rests against hers comfortably, her enlarged clit fit snug inside you.

abby had already come twice only from your slight movements as you got comfortable on top of her. the torture felt too good to tell you to get up though, she wanted to know how long she could take it. the feeling of your fluttering walls around her was a bliss she wouldn't let go of yet.

you paid no mind to her, no matter how wet you actually were. no, each moment your eyes stayed on your book, reading it to her like you weren't forming a pool of her come and your arousal on the bed beneath you.

"hmm baby i can't read this word, what does it say?" you tease and bend around lightly to show her the book, causing yourself to slightly shift. abby almost curled in at the feeling of your walls rubbing against her sensitive clit. her hands gripped the hem of your sweater and dropped her head to your shoulder for a second to gather herself.

"u-uh its...m-metempsychosis" she gets out shakily after lifting her head. you continue on with your reading, abby half hearing you. the squelching between your thighs is all she can focus on,

"hey baby" she says in a daze,

"yes?" you ask, eyes still on your book.

"c-can you move just a little bit please baby i'm so close" she pants from behind you. abby's hands come up from gripping your sweater to slipping their hands inside and glide them along your skin.

you let out a slight giggle at her desperation, going back to your book but this time slowly circling your hips.

abby falls back against her headboard, mind going hazy at the feeling of you around her, the smell of you combining with hers on her sweater, the warm come dripping down your thighs onto hers. it was all too much.

abby's thighs twitched underneath you as her third orgasm began to wash over her. the circles you did with your hips were so light and barely there, yet abby felt everything. with her eyes close and mouth open her hips bucked slightly causing a loud moan to fall from her lips as her clit sank deeper into you,

"fuck baby, i can't take it" she whined, come leaking between her thighs. you tilt your head back, slightly nervous she was too overstimulated.

"want me to get up?" you ask,

"no no! five more minutes" she begs quickly.

"what a greedy girl you are" you smirk down at her flushed face, turning back around to your book, back to ignoring her.

abby let out half a cry-half a whine, arms coming out from under your sweater to find your thighs. your circling had ceased, forcing her to chase her own orgasm.

you never understood why she loved doing this so much, always begging to 'cock warm' you and yet she turned into a mess and couldn't handle it every time.

abby's own thighs spread, the air hitting the wet between her thighs making it feel cold. her hands come up to you hips slowly and pushes you down,

"fuck fuck!" she calls out, the feeling too much after her third orgasm.

"why are you torturing yourself, my love?" you ask in a absent minded voice, eyes still on your book.

her hips buck again and come starts squirting lightly onto the mattress. you let out a tsk, finally ending her torture, but not before giving her a fourth orgasm.

you drop the book to the other side of the bed and quickly spread your legs. one of your hands comes down to where the two of you are connected. abby's body instinctively curls into you from behind, hands wrapping around your torso,

"f-fuck what are you-" you cut her off, beginning a bounce on her sensitive clit and use your middle finger to rub your finger back and forth under her clit and around her aching hole.

"baby!' she calls out, legs beginning to quiver within seconds, it doesn't take her long at all.

soon enough you feel a dam break under your finger as abby's squirt streams out of her in spurts. you continue your massaging on her hole and under her clit as she works herself through her final orgasm.

you give her a second before sliding off of her, knowing she couldn't handle anymore attention to her poor clit. you turn around to find her flopped onto the bed on her back, eyes half open in bliss, come all over her cunt and thighs.

"well don't you look pretty?" you bend over her brushing a stray hair behind her ear,

her cheeks stay pink as you clean her, your careful of her swollen and sensitive clit as you clean her. unable to prevent yourself from leaving one small kiss to its tip as you clean her cunt, watching her whole body twitch when your lips come down onto it lightly.

she looked just too pretty in that angle, laid back, worn cunt and puffy clit just staring at you.

"maybe you can handle one more?" you look up at her, passed the enlarged clit just beginning for one more kiss,

"wha-" she starts but your tongue has already shot out to give the tip of her clit a swipe.

"fuck!" she calls out, eyes shooting open.

without warning your entire mouth comes down onto her sensitive clit, fingers finding her weeping hole in seconds. abby can't help but spread her legs as wide as possible, eyes crossing at the stimulation of your lips wrapping around her entire clit. the suctions of your mouth combined with the rapid flicks of your tongue cause another orgasm to wash over her.

abby's legs shake around your head as she comes for the final time, come hitting your neck and down to your chest. abby thinks she blacks out for a second as the orgasm washes through her. the two of you had played around with overstimulation but were always too nervous to go all the way.

your mouth released its suction on her, letting abby finally rest. you leave a trail of kisses up her body till you find her sweet mouth, biting lightly on her plump lower lip.

"h-hi baby" she says and you giggle at how cute she is post orgasm,

"hi baby" you brush her cheeks with your fingers.

"that feel good" abby rolls on her back, taking you with her.

"yeah?"

"mm" she smiles, eyes closed. you can't help but stare at her face, cheek bones strong, freckles doting her nose. everything about this girl was fucking perfect.

[abby masterlist]

[glass-apothecary]

I’m absolutely convinced that once Abby hits subspace, she gets this wild mix of sensitive and loud. Like, all she really wants is for you to reach up, grab her hair by the roots, and pull it down hard enough to expose that long, strong column of her neck, while she’s riding you, bouncing desperately on the strap. No one would ever imagine Abby letting anyone have her like that.

[glass-apothecary]

Where's my WLF Abby DLC?

I'm so ready to play the girl who trained her grief into muscle. I wanna see her rise through the WLF ranks.

Give me clumsy, corny gym mechanics. I want to experience her very first time picking up a dumbbell. Let us train her strength and stamina and control through rope climbs and bench presses and heavy bags.

Give me training sequences with Manny and Nora.

Let us roll through her inner conflict in the middle of a war zone.

I want to see how Abby treats prisoners and how she handles interrogations. She's already strong but maybe a little reckless. Smart as hell but completely emotionally shut down.

Show me what that looks like when she's ordered to assist and protect Mel during a raid evacuation where they're trying to gather supplies and get out alive.

Hit me with a hallucination sequence from exhaustion and PTSD. Let's deep dive her nightmares.

I want stealth patrols near dangerous water routes, drowned freeways and fog covered shores.

Give us heavy crafting and looting. Driving mechanics. Gunner mechanics.

I want more banter with Manny and their brother/sister camaraderie as they fight their way through a damn infected bloodbath.

Give us Abby being assigned to escort a junior patrol team along the eastern coast, while her grief is still fresh and it's her earliest swing at leadership.

Give us tracking gameplay that she learned from her dad.

Give us her eating in a calorie surplus because she's putting on muscle mass and Manny cannot stop teasing her. So. Many. Burritos.

Hell, give me something immediately following the escape from Santa Barbara. That would be so badass.

[glass-apothecary]

Steel Between Us

heyy!! this is my first time writing smut and a story on tumblr!! not sure how this app really works 😔😌 i’ll try my best!!

Sevika x Chapstick!Reader

Bar brawl tension → back-alley hookup → her place → shower sex → STRAP + FINGERING + attitude + soft aftercare

let’s get into it 💗💗

You swagger into the Last Drop like you own the damn place—combat boots, red tank top, hoops. You’re known in Zaun, not just for running messages between cells, but for leaving girls dizzy in alleys with trembling legs and kiss-bruised necks.

Sevika sees you across the room. You’re cocky, leaning on the bar, lighting a cigarette with your middle finger up at a guy who touched your thigh uninvited. She smirks. You raise a brow.

“You gonna stare all night, steel-arm?”

“Depends. You offering a better view?” She chuckles

Ten minutes later, her mechanical hand’s pinning your wrists above your head in some graffiti-smeared back room, your thighs wrapped tight around her waist.

“You bring toys to the bar, baby?” she rasped, voice like smoke and sweat.

You grinned, tilting your chin up until your lips brushed hers. “Only when I know I’ll need ‘em.”

She kissed you like it was a dare—teeth clashing, lips slick, a hand threading into your hair and yanking just hard enough to make you gasp. You bit her bottom lip in return, and she growled. Actually growled.

Your thighs clenched. Your strap was still in your hand.

She shoved your jacket off, eyes dragging over your body like she was choosing how to break you. You reached between you, palming her through her pants, feeling the heat and wet already soaking her boxers.

“Fuck,” you murmured. “Already?”

“I saw you walk in,” she grunted, grinding against your hand. “You think I wasn’t wet watchin’ you lick your fuckin’ lip gloss off?”

You dropped to your knees.

Just like that.

No warning. You shoved her pants down, dragged her boxers aside, and flicked your tongue slow—lazy, taunting. She slapped her metal hand against the wall, exhaling a deep, wrecked, “Shit.”

You didn’t stop. Didn’t slow. You tongued her clit like you knew exactly how she needed it—circles and pressure, just enough drag from your lip gloss to make her hips twitch. Her thighs started to tremble.

“Up,” she growled. “Get the fuck up.”

She practically threw you onto a dusty crate, shoved your legs open, yanked your pants down—and paused.

You had the strap already buckled on.

She blinked. Smiled, slow and dangerous. “You really don’t fuck around.”

You smirked, hand behind your head like this was casual. “I could’ve told you that when you still had your tongue in my mouth.”

Her organic hand wrapped around your strap, stroked once—twice—then slid her fingers lower, between your folds. She groaned.

“You’re soaked.”

“Yeah?” You grinned. “Then fuck me like you mean it.”

And Sevika did.

She climbed into your lap like a beast, lowering herself onto your strap with no preamble. The way she groaned into your neck, the way her metal hand held your hip still while her other gripped your hair—it was carnal.

You met every thrust. You both wanted control. Both too stubborn to give it. Every moan was a power play. Every kiss, a battle.

Sevika clenched around you, sweat dripping down her jaw. “Touch me.”

You reached between her legs, finding her clit with your fingers. Rubbed slow. Hard. The way she hissed and started to shake was worth every second of pride she stole earlier.

“Cum for me,” you whispered. “On my cock. Like a good girl.”

And she did. Loud, raw, biting your shoulder while her hips jerked and stuttered. You held her through it, fucking up into her, your own orgasm crashing through like a wave smashing glass.

Later, she lit a cig.

You took it from her fingers, dragged slow, then kissed her jaw. “You always fuck like that?”

She side-eyed you. “You always carry that thing around?”

You smirked. “Zaun’s dangerous, baby. Gotta stay strapped.”

She didn’t laugh. Just looked at you, soft for a second. Brushed a thumb over your lip.

“Stay tonight.”

⸻

You stood, breath fogging up the glass, body slick and trembling. Sevika leaned back against the tile—chest heaving, legs parted, water sliding over every inch of her like she wasn’t human. You grabbed the strap from the ledge where you’d left it last night, buckled it on like a cocky little punk, straddled her thigh, and lined it up.

“You gonna let me ride you?” you teased, fingers wrapping around the base. “Be a good girl for once?”

Sevika just grinned. That slow, wolfish grin that warned you—you were never in control here.

“Go ahead,” she rasped. “Show me what you think you’ve got.”

You sank down on her. Moaned into her neck. The steam, the heat, the stretch—it lit your nerves like wirefire. You bounced, slow at first, teasing, hands braced on her chest.

Then you grabbed her jaw. Tilted it.

“Told you,” you whispered, “I own this.”

And that’s when it flipped.

Fast.

Her metal hand came up, grabbed your throat, and slammed your back into the wall behind her.

You gasped. Choked.

Not out of pain—because it was so hot you couldn’t think.

“You own what?” she hissed, pushing deeper inside you, her organic hand gripping your thigh and slamming your hips down harder, rougher. “Say it again. Say it with my cock buried in you.”

You tried. You opened your mouth—some bold little comeback on your tongue—but her fingers slid into your mouth, deep, gagging you in one thrust.

“You run that mouth too much, sweetheart,” she growled, fucking up into you now, brutal and wet. “Time you learned how to shut it.”

You moaned around her fingers, eyes rolling back as the strap filled you up and her palm slapped your ass loud and sharp.

Every time you tried to move your hips, she outmatched you. Her thighs bucked up, her arms locked you down, her voice? That low, ruined, growling praise?

“Yeah, you’re taking it now. So cocky when you walked in—where’s all that mouth now, huh?”

You cried out, gagged on her fingers, walls clenching around nothing and everything at once.

She leaned in, lips brushing your ear.

“You wanna cum? Then you cum when I say so. Not before.”

You nodded, tears mixing with sweat and steam.

And she didn’t stop.

She pounded up into you, faster, water slapping against skin and tile, and right as your body started to tremble—right as you whined, please,

She pulled her fingers from your mouth, grabbed your chin, and spat into it.

“Now.”

You shattered.

⸻

Your body hit the mattress like it had given out. Hair wet. Thighs trembling. Skin still burning from the steam. You didn’t even pull the sheets back—just collapsed onto them, half-dazed, one arm draped over your eyes.

Sevika walked in slow, towel slung low on her hips, jaw locked with purpose. She looked at you like a meal she wasn’t finished with.

“You done?” she asked.

You didn’t answer. Just groaned.

Wrong move.

The mattress dipped under her weight. Then her voice—low, closer, right at your ear:

“Good. ‘Cause I’m not.”

She pulled the towel off, tossed it aside. Climbed between your legs like she belonged there. Her fingers—still damp, rough, hot—slid up your inner thigh.

“You always this messy?” she muttered, spreading you with two fingers. “Or do I just get you like this?”

You whimpered, legs twitching open wider.

She traced your folds, slow. Then slid two fingers inside like she’d been thinking about it since last night. Deep. Crooked. Precise. Her thumb pressed on your clit, and you arched—a sharp gasp slipping from your throat.

“Fuck—Sev—”

“Shhh.”

She reached for a pillow. Shoved it under your hips—then another under your face.

“Bite it. Or the neighbors are gonna hear what a whiny little thing you are.”

You bit it.

She pumped harder. Her fingers curled just right, dragging that spot inside you like she was carving her name into it. And the sounds—God, the wet slick every time she bottomed out made her growl.

“Look at you. All tough earlier, actin’ like you could handle me. But now? You’re fuckin’ dripping, baby.”

She added a third finger.

You choked.

Your hips bucked off the bed, legs flailing until she pinned them down—one hand working inside you, the other spread over your stomach, holding you in place.

“Take it.” Her voice broke into a snarl. “Take all of it.”

Your orgasm hit like a fucking freight train. You screamed into the pillow, whole body clenching, jerking. But she didn’t stop.

Didn’t even slow down.

“Don’t stop me now. You wanted to cum so bad—go ahead. Do it again.”

You were sobbing by the second one. Legs locked. Back arched. Voice wrecked.

And Sevika? She looked proud. Dripping sweat, jaw set, watching you fall apart just from her fingers.

She leaned down, kissing your cheek so softly it contradicted everything her hands were doing.

“Next time,” she whispered, “I’ll tie you up first. Make you ask for permission.”

HII GUYSS!! thanks for reading this. if u have any tips PLEASE write it in the comments!! 💗💗

HEY ALL!! i recently made a post PLEASE CHECK IT OUT!!

[glass-apothecary]

thinking about getting passed around like a blunt between ellie and abby. hands all over you, tugging and trying to pull you closer to them. it made ur body so hot, you literally felt like you were burning.

it wasn't supposed to get like this at all, especially with your new roommates. maybe it was weed ellie brought home causing you to get horny, making you encourage the fucking idea. but then again, why would they even agree? so are you really at full fault here?

" mmf- a-abby." you whined against her lips, letting abby's tongue explore the wetness inside your mouth. her free hand slips under your shorts to trace her finger against your clothed cunt, your wetness dampening your panties.

as you and abby's lips stayed interlocked, ellie stared at you two, in a total trace waiting for her turn. you could see her thighs rubbing together in your peripheral. she was so needy to touch you, to taste you. the minutes you were making out with abby felt like eternity. she felt like she was about to go crazy. "cmon anderson..." ellie groans, tugging your tank top in need.

"think ellie wants a taste, can't be hoggin you." abby rolls her eyes at ellie, eyes focusing back on you to admire your bruised, plump lips. you fully turned to ellie, her eyebrows knitted so close together. she looked so pathetic. you don't think you ever seen her like this before. ellie grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to her, lips already nipping and kissing at your neck.

ellie scattered small bites all over your neck and collarbones, not leaving one inch untouched. she made her way back up to your face and didn't waste a millisecond to kiss you, to feel your pretty lips against hers.

you both were a noisy mess, the most obscene sounds ever to be heard. it didn't help when ellie snuck her hand up your top to grope at your sensitive tits, rubbing the pad of her thumb ever so harshly against your nipple. "so soft..." ellie whined into the kiss, her hands getting more rough with you.

you're so focused on ellie you didn't even notice abby sinking down on her knees and nestling between your legs. her fingers hooked on the waistband of your panties and slowly pull them down, mouth salivating from the view. "just need a quick taste angel." abby traced her nose from your thigh to your upper thigh, getting even higher than she was off your scent. the simplest kiss abby gave your clit sent you crazy, moaning and breathing hard against ellie's mouth.

abby propped your legs on her shoulders and kitten licked your poor clit, sending shivers through your whole body. "can't believe me and ellie were so lucky to get a sweet roomie." abby groaned at your taste, looking up into your eyes before diving into your pussy, eating it like she hasn't ate anything in days

everything was too much. you can't believe a single hit from ellie's bong had you like this. the feeling of abby eating you out along with ellie's tongue inspecting all parts of your mouth. your poor brain couldn't comprehend anything. you were just a plaything in their hands, taking whatever they gave you. you knew this night wasn't going to end anytime soon, and you didn't want it to.

[glass-apothecary]

─── modern au sevika: silly domestic headcanons

content warnings: none. just fluff. as promised :)

"i'll give you my love, don't think i could love you any more than this i like you, i like you so much god, i think i really love you why are you so handsome? i'm nervous how can i deserve this person who listens to me? it's you this is how i adore you." (G)I-DLE, "Give Me Your (주세요)".

   *ੈ✩‧₊˚   sevika’s love language: being annoying. when she gets comfortable enough around you she’s basically like the eldest brother in an asian household who got into a top college so he gets the asshole pass. gets especially annoying when she wants attention but you’re preoccupied. motions to tip your bottle up as you’re drinking from it. randomly takes your book, flips through it, puts the bookmark in another place, then hands it back without a word. flicks you on the forehead, never hard enough to hurt, but when you get fed up and whine that it does, she’ll laugh and suddenly pull you close to plant a hard kiss where she flicked. also ruffles your hair aggressively as she passes by. if you protest about it she looks back with a raised eyebrow and the most innocent expression on her face that it just makes you laugh.

   *ੈ✩‧₊˚   goes through your camera roll after a trip and insists that she took any photo that came out well even when she clearly did not. you both fully know who actually took the picture (you) but she starts these petty arguments purely to mess with you. 

   *ੈ✩‧₊˚   when she gets sick you cook her favorite foods for her and she’ll follow you around the kitchen wrapped in a blanket, criticizing every choice you make in spices. 

“why don’t you just go lie down?”

“if you don’t add the cumin the curry will taste wrong.” 

“sevika, go lie down.” 

   *ੈ✩‧₊˚   good at lifting but terrible with cardio, she gets winded after like 15 minutes. you started forcing her out of the house for daily walks through the park to build her stamina. grumbles but will go along without complaint if you promise to pay for the gelato on the way back home.  

   *ੈ✩‧₊˚  will watch comedy movies without a twitch of the mouth but cackles at the most unfunny parts of horror/drama movies. 

   *ੈ✩‧₊˚  has a sixth sense when it comes to keeping you out of danger. covers the edge of a table with her hand to keep you from banging your head. grabs you by the shirt and yanks you back before you walk into the street in front of a car. it's second nature for her. 

   *ੈ✩‧₊˚  has the maddening habit of whistling anything she heard on the radio the day before. you don’t need to turn on 106.7 Light FM to know what classical track was playing because she’s been whistling the William Tell overture for the past hour while she fixes the sink in the kitchen. 

   *ੈ✩‧₊˚  sometimes has dreams about something vaguely mean you did and sulks for the whole morning about it. it won’t even be a seriously bad dream—it would be something small, like you ignoring her when she tried to talk to you or the tone of your voice was irritable and it hurt her feelings. in the dream. refuses to tell you until like a week later when she mentions it in an offhand voice.

“THAT'S why you didn’t want the coffee i made that morning? are you serious?-”

   *ੈ✩‧₊˚  incapable of giving compliments. her brain does not work that way. every sweet thing she wants to say to you gets lost in translation from her thoughts to her speech and she’ll end up saying something that would sound like a backhanded compliment at best, a downright insult at worst. you’ve gotten used to it though. when she says you look like a hairless cave rat you know she means you look so adorable she wants to put you in her pocket and carry you around. when she says you look like you just survived a train wreck you know she means she’s worried about how tired you are and wants you to rest. 

   *ੈ✩‧₊˚  almost never initiates physical affection in the day (her pride won’t allow it) but in her sleep she refuses to let go of you. if you wriggle away from her unconsciously she’ll take it as a personal affront, and just pull you closer. even the hot summer weather won’t stop her from using you as her teddy bear. just keep the fan on and throw the blankets to the floor, she needs to feel your pulse beat against her skin to be able to fall asleep. 

   *ੈ✩‧₊˚  your contact on her phone is just your full name without a profile picture. her contact on your phone is “hubby 💞” and her pfp is a ridiculously goofy 0.5 pic of her looking up at you that you took standing on the chair while fixing a lightbulb in the living room. she told you to delete it. of course it's the first thing you see when she calls you. 

   *ੈ✩‧₊˚  she walks around a lot when she’s on a call with her parents. paces around the room absent-mindedly picking things up and putting them down in a different place. her voice changes when she’s speaking hindi. it gets softer, the edge in her voice when she speaks english is gone. you can always tell when she’s speaking to her father—her tone is more subdued, she keeps her eyes down, and for just a moment the uncertain young girl she once was is revealed in her expression. when she gets off the phone she goes back to what she was doing before, but she’s quieter than usual, lost in thought, her mood subtly darkened. when she calls her mother, on the other hand, you hear your name come up a lot in the conversation. sometimes she throws a glance at you across the room, and winks.

end note: the dash of angst at the end couldn't be avoided i'm sorry i'm sorry also sorry i didnt have the time to make this longer but... ~sevika fluff for the soul

[glass-apothecary]

Okay guys since people keep calling me a terf in my inbox here is what I said

I don’t give a fuck anymore, yeah I don’t enjoy it when people use he/him pronouns for FICTIONAL CHARATERS. I don’t care what you do however I’m not saying you should stop writing whatever you write. I’m saying that I PERSONALLY (see that word personally? It means ME, ME.) don’t enjoy he/him butches (or when people say g!p instead of just saying trans, or daddy kinks on female characters) omfgggg. Why doesn’t anyone write Mel or jinx or Caitlyn with he/him pronouns. Because there fem right? But you’ll put he/him pronouns on butches and mascs. Fem he/him lesbians exist guys!!!

[glass-apothecary]

She looks so fucking cute having an idea and then doing it AHHH!

[glass-apothecary]

Abby Anderson gagged and strapped to a Sybian. Her arms tied behind her back. At first, she rides it, rolling her hips and moaning at the vibrations, Putting on a show. 

The control is in your hand, and you watch sweat drip down her toned stomach as you turn it all the way up. You love watching her like this. Her usual composed facade fading as she’s forced to feed into the animal need of pleasure.

When she comes, her muscles tense and twitch at the unrelenting vibration, unable to escape. 

You straddle the back of the Sybian behind her. Her eyes roll back in her head and she grunts in pleasure/pain. Running your hands up her thighs slowly, you feel them tremble and shake. When you press down on her hips, she nearly screams, forced to take it all. She comes again.

You turn the vibrations down, long enough for her to recover. With you still behind her, she rolls her head back on your shoulder, breathing heavily. 

When she seems too peaceful, you turn it back up again, you can tell it’s hard for her to remain upright, but the ropes give her no choice.

After it's all over, you lay her out so pretty for you. She’s exhausted, skin glistening and flushed, eyes half-lidded. You trace the marks the silk ropes left on her thighs and descend between her legs. She’s so sensitive like this. The lightest touches making her honest-to-god whimper, her legs twitching and trying to close against her will. 

You take her slow, avoiding her poor abused clit. She’s just so soaked, you have to clean her up, your tongue tracing the folds of her cunt. She doesn’t come again, you’re not sure she even could. But you do, with her thighs around your head and your hand between your own legs.

[glass-apothecary]

Based

Do I want to talk about how nearly every interaction between Jinx and Sevika in Season 1 is Jinx abusing Sevika—physically, emotionally, and symbolically?

How Jinx repeatedly uses Sevika’s body as a medium for self-expression and communication with Silco?

Like here:

Sevika—unconscious (gassed into this state, btw), strung up, painted, labeled. Turned into a literal billboard for Jinx’s anger and accusations. Not a person—a message. Like a doll for Jinx to dress up, break and discard. This is a (non-consentual) display of domination, degradation and objectification.

Imagine the outrage if a man did this to a woman. Or if Caitlyn did it to Vi. But because Jinx is tiny, white-coded, “broken,” hyperfeminine and emotionally volatile—and Sevika is physically imposing, Brown, butch, older, and emotionally composed—people fail to identify the former as abuser and the latter as victim.

Because Jinx wears all the markers we are socially conditioned to decode as vulnerable, while Sevika wears all the markers that make us label someone resilient, strong—or worse, indestructible. And these labels determine significantly who is considered of empathy, care and attention. (Yes, on the meta layer, this is a reflection of racialized and gendered dynamics, hierarchies of empathy and selective ethics.)

Do I want to unpack how Jinx continually objectifies and dehumanizes Sevika to externalize her inner world—how the prosthetic arm Jinx builds in Season 2 is just a continuation of that same pattern of expressing herself through Sevika's body? How she modulates Sevika's arm into a canvas that announces Jinx's identity, literally transforming Sevika into a speaker box that blasts Jinx's theme song?

How fandom romanticizes it as “character development” for Jinx? (LMAO.)

People (rightfully!) call out Caitlyn’s coercion and physical abuse of Vi—but completely ignore or overlook the sustained abuse Sevika suffers at Jinx’s hands.

Why?

Because fandom loves to fetishize the dynamic between Jinx and Sevika (and Isha) as wholesome “found family.” Because critical thinking hurts their feelies for a narrative that centers, excuses, and glorifies the abuser. And I could write an extensive essay about all this, but I probably won't.

Not because I don’t have the words—but because fandom punishes you for seeing past superficial tropes. Because calling abuse what it is—when humiliation and erasure of agency and dignity are dressed in neon-colored violence and "trauma aesthetics"—is seen as ruining the fun. Because the moment you say this isn’t healing, it’s escalation, they’ll call you joyless, or bitter, or "too serious."But I'm not bitter. I'm just tired of seeing abusers turned into icons, and survivors turned into their decoration and objects of expression/"creativity".

[glass-apothecary]

just thinking...

ellabs butch4butch always wrestling, with abby letting ellie win—ellie grinning wide, quickly leaning over the table to give abby a playful pat on the cheek before pressing a soft kiss right there.

both of them always sharing the same worn-out brown leather jacket from joel, still carrying the scent of abby’s favorite cologne.

ellie just dropping to her knees, leaving wet kisses on abby’s toned stomach—one of her favorite places.

and abby? abby loves having ellie in a headlock, whether it’s just to mess up her hair or when she’s behind her, fucking her deep with thick fingers, pace relentless. ellie’s trembling, but abby keeps her upright, the pressure on her neck grounding her as she breathes heavy in her ear, warm breath trailing down her skin, sending a shiver straight through her, making the happy trail on her stomach bristle.

[glass-apothecary]

Stand By

Chapter 4 - Kilo

AO3 | Masterlist

Abby sees you in action and learns something about you that you tried to keep hidden.

August 12th, 2035

Abby is 17 years old.

She has been at the stadium for 14 months.

Abby’s dad liked Owen. 

Owen wasn’t one of his students, but he was assigned to Abby’s Firefly unit so they were around each other a lot. Abby liked Owen too. He was funny. He didn’t have that rage in him that a lot of men had. He felt safe. 

He held her while she reached for her father’s corpse. He’d played interference when people wanted to offer Abby their condolences. He didn’t speak for her, but he stood up for her when she didn’t have the strength. And on the road to Seattle, he let her take it out on the corpses of infected and didn’t judge her for it. He had lost his family before Utah. He knew how it felt

And in return, she let him kiss her. It wasn’t bad, just… clinical. It was nice, for someone to want you. She felt valuable when she was with him. Abby didn’t realize just how much she was going through the motions until she started spending more time with you.

It was movie night. Everyone from Salt Lake was there minus Leah, who was on duty. You were all packed together in their room fighting over popcorn while the lead actress confessed her love in the rain. 

Abby was sitting between you and Owen. When the two actors in the movie kissed and the music swelled, Owen put his hand on Abby’s knee. Objectively she knew that was sweet, and she didn’t let herself think about it past that, sweet. 

Abby had invited you for two reasons. First, the two of you had become friends in record time and she wanted to spend more time with you. Second, You had been working through the night recently and you needed some off time. They had been looking for someone to cover the radio on night shift but so far no one could figure out your shorthand and people kept screwing up the channel settings.

So it was no surprise when you started nodding off during the movie’s third act miscommunication. And Abby had to admit, it was kind of cute, the way you tried to fight through it. When your head fell softly against her shoulder and you let out a small puff of air, Abby had this feeling. Like excitement, but more internal. A fuzziness in her chest. Like when you’re holding an impossibly small kitten. Every muscle in her body tensed with the effort to stay still, to not disturb you. 

When the movie finally ended and everyone started getting up to leave, you woke up. 

“Oh shit, Abbs I'm so sorry I fell asleep. I- ” you were cut off, startled by the buzz from your walkie.

“Tower, come in. This is Kilo. Towe-” the voice cut off, they sounded frantic. Abby sat up. 

“Go ahead,” you replied. You did that sometimes, switching from calm to serious the moment a transmission came through.

Silence on the other line. 

“Go ahead, Squad Kilo. Are you in need of assistance?”

Leah was on Squad Kilo. Abby felt sick.

You stood, rushing toward the door as quickly as you could in your post-sleep haze. Abby followed. She wanted to help but she knew she shouldn’t get in the way. And god! How were you so calm? 

Abby noticed in her periphery that Mel and Nora split off to go to the infirmary and that Manny, Owen, and Jordan were taking her lead and following you to the tower.

“-oldiers down, Tower. Immediate evac requested!” there was commotion on the other end. Something that sounded like gunshots. 

You were at the elevator now and Abby watched you pause before running to the stairwell instead.

“Roger that, what’s your 20,” you said.

Confused, Abby followed you, motioning for the rest of the gang to take the elevator. 

Abby knew you weren’t the most athletic person in the stadium, she had really only seen you move quickly when the kitchen was serving those garlic butter things you liked. So she was truly astonished to see you book it up the stairs like someone’s life depended on it. Maybe someone’s life did. 

As Abby reached the landing a step behind you, she saw everyone else had already made it there. So the elevator was faster, why had you taken the stairs? Abby wasn’t an angry person, or at least she didn’t think she was. There were a few people she’d had a reason to be mad at. Her boyfriend, on occasion, her friends when they treated her like a child despite being her age. But she had never been mad at you, so it came as quite a shock when her brow furrowed in consternation over your dumb choice. A dumb, time-wasting choice you made while Leah was in danger.

You moved past everyone to the map table with the walkie still in your hand. What followed was a series of coordinates and street names you had to ask them to repeat twice. Once you located it, you sighed with relief. 

“Squad Kilo, there is a safe house the next block over. The old warehouse. Can you make it there?”

Silence, while you waited for a response. Abby was buzzing; with anger at you, with fear for her friend, and with something else as she admired your one-minded focus. 

“Copy, Tower. We should be able to make it.”

“Good. Squad Apollo should be in that area. Stand by,” you switched channels to speak with who Abby assumed was squad Apollo. 

There was a break in the commotion as Leah’s team was moving to the warehouse and squad Apollo was shipping out to meet them. 

Her friends had been heatedly whispering to each other while she had been looking at you and their conversation was growing louder to fill the science. It was Jordan’s voice Abby heard first. 

“I’m going out there!” he protested, pushing at Manny’s chest. 

“Don’t be stupid, man. There’s nothing you can do. You really think you can move faster than Apollo squad?” Manny was trying to talk Jordan down and Owen wasn’t helping.

“Manny, Leah’s in trouble. I don’t want him to go either but if it was Abby, you couldn’t stop me.”

That pissed Abby off. There were a lot of things Owen did to annoy her. Holding his hand at the small of her back when they were walking like she needed guidance, kissing her in public like she was an accessory, bringing up her dad when she was upset with him, but this… Acting like she was better than everyone else, different. Like she deserved to have someone risk their life for her?

“Owen-” Abby gave him a look she had given him before. A look that meant stand down and we’ll talk about this later. 

She looked at Jordan.

Abby knew that feeling. Knowing something was wrong. Knowing someone you love is in danger, and rushing towards it anyway because what else can you do? She saw the energy in his body, like a coiled spring. She put her hand on his shoulder and said something that maybe only the two of them would understand. A choice she hadn’t had the chance to make.

“If this goes really bad… If she dies, Jordan,” she saw him flinch and caught his eyes again. “Do you want to be running around trying to find her or do you want to tell her how much you love her, even if it’s over the radio?”

She watched the reality weigh down on him as he considered. But she knew he was listening to reason now so she simply repeated what Manny said and what Jorden already knew. 

“You’re not going to reach her before Apollo does. But you can be here for her.”

Jordan nodded solemnly. With emotion in his eyes and the detached stature of a soldier, he went to stand next to you. Abby watched as you nodded at him and handed him an extra transmission microphone, giving him soft directions and telling him not to speak unless he needed to. You looked at her with appreciation and Abby almost smiled back.

The next twenty minutes were tense. Sporadic messages updating you, and you acting as the intermediary so the teams could communicate. Once you were given the all clear that they were on their way back to the stadium you sighed, collapsing back into your chair, sending the boys downstairs to wait for the rescue team to arrive with Leah.

Abby spoke up then, “I, could you ask… Were there any casualties?” 

“I did, earlier. I was using shorthand though,” You looked at her with characteristic patience despite your exhaustion, “No WLF deaths. A few injuries, one critical.”

“Right,” of course you’d asked. 

She shouldn’t have said that. Stupid.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, laying a hand on Abby’s. “We’ll know soon. Actually, let's go down to intake so we catch them on their way in, yeah?” you sighed, getting up from the chair like you’d miss it.

God you were sweet. 

“Yeah,” Abby replied, before remembering she was supposed to be mad at you. 

“Why didn’t you take the elevator?” she asked, her anger building up before you could answer. “Leah could have died. Do you not care?”

Abby knew you cared. Of course you did. But she couldn’t stop that bitterness from rising in her chest. She trusted you, but she could be wrong. She couldn’t trust her own idea of you. Maybe you were just in the right place at the right time for her to project her loneliness onto.

She couldn’t look at you because she knew if she did, she’d fold. 

You didn’t reply right away, which made Abby feel dumb, like the answer was obvious and she just hadn’t gotten it. 

You sighed and took her hand, “Abby, sometimes I lose signal in the elevator. The entire stadium is made of concrete, which is why the tower is up so high, but the elevator is worse. Concrete and steel. I made a split second decision; either lose signal in the elevator and miss something important, or make it to the tower a couple seconds later with all the information I need.”

When she met your eyes, she felt… guilt. You were so tired. She could see the shadows under your eyes. And more than that, she could see the weight of this job. Someone always needed help, and the only thing you could do was listen. She wondered then, how often you had done this, how many times had it gone the other way, how many times had you listened to someone die? 

You were so young, you both were. Abby had no words, so she just held you.

Leah was hurt, badly. 

When you arrived at the med bay, she was already in surgery. Over the past year, Abby hadn’t told you much about her time in Salt Lake, but you knew she avoided the infirmary. The waiting room was crowded, all of Leah’s friends from Utah and the many people she’d gotten close with once she got to the stadium were all packed into a small room with uncomfortable benches. You were beyond exhausted but you wanted to be there for Abby. Every ounce of will you possessed was being used to keep your eyes open and your head straight. You couldn’t tell if the fluorescents were helping keep you awake or just giving you a headache.

Instead of closing your eyes, you catalogued the range of emotion in the waiting room. Manny was talking to Jordan in hushed tones, whatever he was saying must have been helping because Jordan seemed more scared than reckless, which was an improvement. Leah’s squad members that had already been medically cleared were, similarly to you, just trying to stay awake. Abby was staring straight ahead, her leg bouncing at an unforgiving pace. She didn’t seem to see Owen who was sitting a few feet away, trying to catch her gaze. Between Abby’s nervous energy, the lights, and the low murmur of tension, you were well on your way to a migraine. 

“Abby, my room isn’t far from here, do you want to wait there? I can have someone radio me with any updates,” you offered. 

Abby looked at you. At first, she was openly relieved at the alternative offered, but her look was quickly swallowed by shame.

“I… shouldn’t,” she looked around at her friends. 

“Look Abbs, if you want to stay, I won’t blame you, but Leah won’t be able to have any visitors until tomorrow anyway,” you laid a gentle hand on her still bouncing knee, “And your nervous energy isn’t helping.”

You spoke gently, non-judgmentally. You just wanted Abby to take a moment for herself, let herself feel grief and anger and fear without letting them become her. 

You watched the tension leave her face as she decided to stop fighting herself and trust you. You stood and let one of the med assistants know to radio you if anything changed and went to gather Abby. 

You were about to leave when a low authoritative voice behind you spoke your name. The voice made you freeze in your tracks. And from what you could see, everyone else in the room stopped what they were doing and stood, or sat as the case may be, at attention. 

You turned to face Issac.

“Hello, dear Niece.”

[glass-apothecary]

Abby Baby

Chapter 1 - The Proposal

AO3 | Masterlist

Note: Abby is a is a veteran of the coast guard and has a little PTSD. Can be read as Abby/Reader either being married or not married.

You and Abby have a baby <3

Abby was acting weird.

The whole week she was avoiding you. Getting up early and coming to bed late. In the evenings, when you would usually cuddle on the couch and watch Round Planet, Abby was excusing herself to her office to type away on her laptop. A dark part of you wondered if she was cheating. But Abby wouldn’t, right? And besides, it felt like she was getting calls from Nora and Manny almost every day and neither of them would abide by infidelity. 

As you plated dinner – a side of brown rice for her and white for you – you resolved to ask her about it.

Abby didn’t lie to you. When she was hiding something, she kept quiet. Lying by omission, maybe.

As you approached the table you saw that Abby was on her phone again, swiftly tucking in away as you set down the plates. 

“Food looks beautiful, darling.” She smiled sweetly at you.

God the things that smile did to you… but no, focus .

“Abby, I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” You said, fidgeting with your silverware.

“Oh?” She looked at you suspiciously. 

“I feel like you've been acting different lately. You’re spending less lime with me, you’re on the phone all the time, I… I’m just worried.”

You looked up to see Abby had paused with the fork halfway to her mouth. She set it down and cleared her throat. There was something, you thought.

She took a moment before replying. You forced your hummingbird heart to settle. You trusted Abby for a reason, it would all be okay.

“You’re right.” She said simply, taking your hands in hers across the table. “I’ve been working on something. Something good! I promise. I was going to tell you tomorrow. Is there any chance you can just trust me until then?” She rubbed her thumbs soothingly across your knuckles, gazing at you with those god damned puppy eyes.

You folded, because of course you did. She could convince you to rob a bank if she wanted.

“Fine, but this better be good.” You raised an eyebrow at her.

“Oh, it is.”

~♡~

The next day, you woke to Abby gently brushing her thumb against your cheek. When she saw your eyes start to open, she smiled. 

“Hey there, sleepyhead.” She kissed your forehead and laughed when you wrinkled your nose. 

Once you were fully awake and sitting up, you noticed a tray on your table. 

“Abigail Anderson, did you bring me breakfast in bed?” 

“Why yes I did.” Abby replied in an overly formal manner, to poke fun at you for using her full name.

“Is this what you’ve been ‘working on?’” You asked skeptically.

“No,” she replied. Moving the tray over your lap. “This is just a thank you for putting up with me.”

You chuckled. Putting up with Abby was your favorite pastime.

“Always.”

~♡~

Once you were dressed, Abby let you know she would be heading out. Much to your dismay.

“Darling, I have some errands to run, and then I’ll be having lunch with Manny. I’ll be back around four for your surprise” She wiggled her eyebrows like an adorable idiot. 

You resisted the urge to frown, holding Abby’s face in your hands while she wrapped hers around your waist. The last thing you wanted from Abby right now was more space.

“You and Manny going to Group today?” You asked.

Abby had completed her Coast Guard service seven years ago. She hadn’t told you everything, but she didn’t need to, all you knew was that she came home with a fucked up shoulder and a medal hidden in the back of her closet. 

Once she was home, her government issue therapist recommended she go to veterans anonymous meetings at the community center. She met Manny there, and they bonded over their complicated feelings about their service. The meetings really seemed to help her, she always seemed more at ease afterwards.

She turned her head and kissed your palm. “Yeah, is that okay?” She asked sincerely.

You playfully glared at her. “Abbs, you never need my permission to go to Group, or anywhere for that matter.”

“I know… it’s just, I feel bad for being distant recently. I think I was under the impression that I was being more stealthy than I actually was.”

You chuckled. “Abby. I love you and I trust you.” You dramatically pushed her to the door. “And stealth has never been one of your talents.” You playfully patted her on the ass to send her on her way. She had a dramatically over-the-top look of betrayal painted across her gorgeous face as you chuckled at her. 

You were standing over the threshold of your front door, with Abby standing on your welcome mat.

But oh, god! When she stuck out her bottom lip in a melodramatic pout, it took every fibre of your being not to pull her back in the house and ride her face until the only expression she could make was exhaustion.

You settled for a lingering kiss.

~♡~

By the time Abby’s car pulled into the driveway, you were beyond bored. You had deep cleaned the oven, finished painting the attic that also served as your office/studio, taken a nap, and watered the garden. You were laying on the couch reading when she opened the front door. She set her bags down by the door and laid on the couch with you, wiggling her head between your book and your face. 

“You smell like outside.” You complained. A small price to pay to cuddle with your lover.

She buried her face in your chest. “This is the part where I was supposed to convince you to go on a spontaneous date or something so I could bring you to the thing.”

“You want me to go get dressed?“ You asked as you scratched softly at Abby’s scalp.

She looked up at you with eyes half-closed in pleasure. “Mmm...” After another moment of head scritches, she continued. “Yes. Cocktail attire please.” 

You rolled your eyes, Abby and her dress codes. As you disentangled yourself from Abby and set off toward the bedroom, you said “Fine but only if you wear that gay ass suit I like.” You half-shouted back at Abby.

She saluted you and said, “yes, ma’am!”

~♡~

Abby took you to Montressor, a beautiful – if grimly named – winery. The building was beautiful. With natural wood floors, solid oak tables and chairs, and a beautiful exposed beam ceiling, The place smelled like the inside of a damn barrel. Giant floor to ceiling windows let in the warm light of a setting sun and the candles and chandeliers gave the place a welcoming charm. One side of the building had a more casual wine bar, and the other side functioned as a restaurant. It was small, no more than six tables on each side. And it was the perfect place for a date.

And yes, she was in that suit you liked – perfectly fitted trousers and a loose button shirt that was unbuttoned just enough to see a hint of breasts.

You whispered to Abby as the host led you to the wine bar, “I was gonna say you need to buy me a drink to get in my pants, but it seems like you have that covered.” 

She chuckled softly at your joke as you were seated. Instead of menus, they brought out a very fancy bottle the two of you had been meaning to try. When you looked at Abby with raised eyebrows, she replied sheepishly.

“I picked it out ahead of time” 

The impatient part of you wanted her to spill her whole plan immediately. But if there was anything you learned from Abby, it was that patience was rewarded. So with great difficulty, you settled into an easy conversation with the woman you loved. 

About a half hour later, as you poured your second glass, Abby’s energy changed. Anticipation, maybe? Something softer?

“So I, uh.” She cleared her throat and reached into her coat pocket. She held something small in her lap as she continued. 

“I know we’ve talked about this before. And I know that there might never be a perfect time, but I’ve been doing well recently, we’ve been doing well, and I… I love you, and–” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Fuck, I’m doing this out of order.”

She was flustered. Sometimes Abby wound herself up so much that all you could do was anchor her while she untangled her thoughts. You reached across the table and took her hand. 

She took a deep breath. Resetting. “There is a reason I brought you here. ” She looked at you. Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight. 

“I brought you here because if this goes well, It’ll be a while before I can drink again.” She said. You cocked your head.

She produced a small velvet box. Bigger than a ring box, but too small to be anything but jewelry. 

Abby looked at you with nothing but love and admiration in her eyes and said the most romantic thing she could think of at that moment.

“Put a baby in me.”

Both you, and the waiter passing your table sputtered at the unexpected turn of phrase. Abby winced in embarrassment and rushed to correct herself. 

“ With me! Fuck. Have a baby… with me.” Her face flushed scarlet, no doubt helped by the wine.  

You laughed good naturedly and stood from the table as Abby held her face in her hands. You rounded to her side and took her chin gently in your hand, turning her to face you. Her eyes searched yours, but she wasn’t left waiting for a response for long. “Oh, my love. I would be honored to have a baby with you.” You pulled her up to standing and you kissed her. 

You and Abby must have kissed a thousand times before. Some short and fleeting, some with passion so intense you thought it might end you, some awkward and giggly. But this one, this one was one for the books. You kissed away her embarrassment, her fear and anxiety. With each press of your lips you told her that you would always be hers and yet, you couldn’t wait to share her with someone. 

The kiss went on for far longer than was decent in a public space.

When you finally separated yourselves, Abby had the most endearing smile on her face, one you knew nothing could erase. As you seated yourselves back down, you shot apologetic glances at the waitstaff. Abby had her fingers pressed to her lips as if she was still reeling from the kiss and you were just watching her. 

“Um, in the box. It’s a gift.” She gestured for you to open it.

Inside was a breathtakingly delicate gold pendant. The centerpiece was an ornate, yet simple, setting for a single gem. A gem which was not currently present. 

“It’s beautiful, Abby–” You said, an unspoken question in your words.

“It’s incomplete, I know. It’s for the baby’s birthstone, whatever it ends up being.” She pulled another, smaller box out of her pocket. “I have a matching ring.” She pulled out a white gold ring with a similarly missing stone. 

Your Abby. Your beautiful, creative, thoughtful Abby. The mother of your theoretical child.

~♡~

One text and a few minutes later, the whole gang arrived. Manny and one of his partners, Leah and Jordan, Nora, and Mel and Owen. The latter couple seemed like an invite of necessity. They were your friends but it was the tiniest bit awkward. Mel and Nora owned a medical practice together and Owen was Abby’s high school boyfriend. At the end of the day it was just easier to invite them. 

They all showed up dressed impeccably, and at your questioning look, Abby explained they had been waiting for the signal. It had all been planned out. The host moved your group to the restaurant side of Montressor. It was somewhere between an engagement party and a baby shower, as a few friends brought you small baby gifts. 

It was perfect, celebrating with your friends. Watching Abby receive congratulations and getting a few yourself. You had to pinch yourself a few times just to be sure you weren’t dreaming. As the night went on, the table opened another couple bottles. You cut yourself off at the third glass when you heard Manny suggest he and Abby do shots. Abby didn’t drink often, except for an occasional glass of wine, for one very good reason. She was a lightweight. Despite her heavy frame, she could not hold her liquor. It was usually with Manny that she ended up less-than-sober. Now it couldn’t be said that Abby wasn’t a fun drunk, between her third and fourth drinks she got giggly and sweet, an interesting contrast to her usual shy and reserved exterior. Between four and five, she got bold. Singing karaoke and proposing outlandish schemes. Anything past that, Abby got hungry and/or sleepy. You had a very fond memory of her curling up in the corner of a house party at Nora’s with half a loaf of bread.

By the end of the night, Abby was saying something about a ‘scape room,’ which Nora helpfully translated into ‘escape room.’ She was disappointed that you wouldn’t let her until you helpfully reminded her that you had girl scout cookies at home.

In the back of the cab, with Abby curled up at your side, you wondered if it was even possible to be happier. If it was, you knew it’d only happen with her. 

You weren’t going to sleep with her when you were at different levels of intoxication but there was no harm in a little teasing. God knows Abby sure teased you as often as she could. When Abby laid a crooked kiss on your cheek, you turned and whispered suggestively in her ear.

“Abbs, I can’t wait to put a baby in you.”

She did that thing drunk people sometimes do, where she widened her eyes in surprise but at the speed of a turtle on Xanax. It was the funniest thing you’d seen in a while.

You were still laughing when the driver pulled onto your block.

[glass-apothecary]

Stand By

Chapter 3 - Match

AO3 | Masterlist

Note: Underage Drinking

Five months in and Abby is stagnating. Unable to train as a soldier, she does shitty grunt work in the mornings and hangs out in the broadcast tower as often as she can. You confuse her, you convince her do things she wouldn't let anyone else make her do, like go to parties.

Four months later, November 3rd, 2034

Abby is 16 years old

Abby’s first four months at the stadium were filled with grunt work, which fucking sucked. Mel had told someone important that Abby wasn’t fit for duty yet. And the worst part was that she wasn’t allowed to be mad because Mel was just looking out for her. 

The only good thing about it was that if she locked in and busted her ass, she could get all her work done by noon, at which point she could hang out in the broadcast tower.

“Delta squad is a fucking joke, I swear,” you laughed.

“When I first came up here, I heard you yelling at Mark over the radio,” Abby replied.

She was lounging on the orange couch that she had effectively claimed as her own these past few months. 

She was exhausted. Between her work and her increased time spent at the gym… her muscles didn’t just get sore. They stayed sore. 

She watched you work, switching between channels and writing notes to yourself. She still didn’t fully understand what your job was, but she knew it was important. Each of the different sectors of the stadium had someone who was in charge. Like a mini-boss. And Issac was the boss of all the bosses. But Issac was busy. With what? Abby wasn’t sure. But you were their point of contact, delegating work and connecting different people. It was a lot. Abby wasn’t sure yet how or why you had this job, or what your relationship to Issac was. It didn't seem like you had any fondness for the man.

“Ugh, why Issac even lets those old geezers go out on missions is beyond me,” you rolled your eyes. “You know, they’re pretty much all that’s left of the crew that overthrew FEDRA.”

Abby stared at the ceiling, wincing as she flexed her calf muscle. “That makes sense though, some kind of loyalty.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you surrendered. “To be completely honest, I would be fine with the old fart if he just listened to me,” you thought for a moment, “It would also be great if he stopped calling me toots.”

Abby laughed at that. He and the other older soldiers had a habit of underestimating you. The conversation paused when you received an incoming transmission. 

“Come in, Tower,” the voice buzzed over the old radio equipment.

“Loud and clear,” you responded. 

Abby had spent enough time in your presence over the past couple months that she mostly understood all your radio abbreviations. ‘Loud and clear’ meant I can hear you.

“So, you know the warehouse me and Sadie cleared last week? Over.”

“Sure I do,” you swiveled in your chair to glance at the map. “Two klicks south right? Over.”

Fireflies used miles to describe distance, so Abby had also learned that “klick” meant kilometer, which was a little more than a half-mile. 

“Affirmative. So when we were there, we found an old stash of liquor. Like fifteen bottles, good stuff too. Looks like the foreman or whatever pre-outbreak skimmed some off the top of shipments. Anyway, we wanted to hold a small party. Invite only, ya’ know. Right now it’s just Me, Sadie, Raj, and Paulie’s friends from the kitchen. We thought you would be able to help us get the word out. Over.” 

Abby watched you consider the offer, “...Fine. But if you get caught, I wasn’t involved,” you paused before adding, “And for fuck’s sake, stop using the radio lines for this! Out.”

You turned to face Abby with a mischievous look that made a slight shiver run down her spine.

 “So? Know anyone who’s fun at a party?” 

The warehouse was huge. The high metal beams had been covered with shitty streamers and string lights. A few lanterns had been scattered around the place, giving the colossal metal cube an unexpectedly cozy atmosphere.

Abby had struggled for a while with whether or not to invite Mel. She knew she should, Mel was her friend, and if she invited everyone else and not her, Mel would almost certainly find out. But she knew Mel would be against any of them going. And Abby had to admit, it fed the small vindictive part of her soul to exclude the girl that had screwed her out of combat training. 

When she went to tell Nora, she overheard that Mel was taking an overnight shift in the infirmary and Abby couldn’t help but feel relief. Sometimes the stars aligned and everything worked out. Maybe it was just the universe paying her back for all of her extremely bad luck.

So in the end, it was the whole crew – minus Mel – all dressed in their least wrecked clothes. Abby had shrugged on her favorite turtleneck sweater to combat the approaching winter chill. She couldn’t stop tugging at the collar. 

Historically, Abby had never been a ‘party person.’ In fact, and she’d deny it if you asked, but she’d never even been to one. Nora liked to call her shy, but Abby wasn’t shy. It was just groups. Abby could talk one-on-one just fine. But when there was more than one person, she usually took a step back. Not to hide, but to observe. She was reserved, not shy. 

But here, there was definitely more than one person. Probably around twenty-five, if she had to guess. Abby clocked the exits first, and rolled her eyes at herself for doing so. She was here to socialize. To be normal. To see you. 

Everyone she came with dispersed almost immediately, with the exception of Nora, who stayed by her side. God she really was thankful for Nora. People she vaguely recognized from base were milling about, some with drinks. A large speaker that appeared to be more duct-tape than speaker was blasting something low and rhythmic. A few people were dancing – poorly, she thought. Though to be fair, she didn’t have much reference for good dancing. 

Nora led them to the drinks and Abby trailed her. Like an obedient dog, the voice in her head that was both her and her worst enemy whispered to her, filling her stomach with sand. She could feel herself retreating in her own head. Not quite panicking, but something close. As amazing as Nora was, she didn’t notice, and Abby was almost glad for it. 

She was handed a cup and downed it before she could have a second thought about it. Only when she had finished it did she feel that searing burn down her throat. She shivered and barely suppressed a gag. 

Nora was looking at her with an unfamiliar expression, “Woah there tiger, you okay?”

Fuck, if Nora hadn’t noticed before, she sure had now. 

“Yeah, I just… you know–” Abby waved her hand around, hoping Nora could extrapolate her meaning. I am nervous, and this is what everyone else does to deal with that. I thought I’d try it.

Thankfully, Nora understood, or at least pretended to, pulling Abby deeper into the crowd of people.

You were two drinks in when Abby showed up. You weren’t really a drinker, but lately you’d had a lot on your mind. Namely, the irresistibly cute, unintentionally hilarious, enigma of a straight girl you had developed a crush on ever since she crash landed into your life. Abby. 

You had managed to pull yourself back from the cliff’s edge of obsession and had settled for a simmering crush. Maybe it was something about being sixteen but you had so much of that unnameable energy buzzing through you constantly. The kind of energy that made you want to glue her hand to yours, or shrink all her clothes in the dryer on purpose, just to see her pull at the hem exposing her midriff. God you were totally, completely, and utterly, gone. 

But no. Abby had a boyfriend. And Abby was new, and you were her friend, and it would be beyond fucked up if you ruined that just because you were horny. Plus, you could tell something had happened to her. Of course everyone had something, even you had your fair share of trauma, but you’d seen the subtle way her friends acted around her. And an unfortunate side effect of your position as Head of Communications was that eventually, all the stadium’s gossip made its way back to you. But she hadn’t told you what happened. And if you were being honest, it didn’t matter to you, not unless Abby wanted it to. You could relate to wanting to start over. 

So when you saw Abby standing in the lantern-light, smiling in slow motion like a goddamn movie star, you didn’t think about how pink her lips were, or how her soft jaw still had a layer of baby fat that you thought was just adorable. 

Stumbling over to her, due more to your innate clumsiness than your alcohol consumption, you couldn’t help but smile. 

“Abby! You made it!” and when she smiled back… fuck.

She said something but you couldn’t hear her.

“I can’t hear you!” you shouted.

Her face scrunched in a way that made you want to cry from the cuteness. 

“What?” she yelled. 

You laughed at the absurdity, taking her warm hand and pulling her away from the dancing. 

As the background noise lessened, you heard her chuckling softly. You could never get sick of that sound.

You ended up on one of the metal staircases leading to a catwalk. Far enough away to hear each other but still close enough you weren't in total darkness. As you sat, you felt a little bit of a head rush from the alcohol. You weren’t quite drunk, but kinda… loose.

You could have been mistaken but it almost seemed like Abby relaxed a little as you made your way away from the crowd. 

“Hey,” you said stupidly, smiling at your friend, “I’m glad you came.”

“I am too,” she looked like she was going to say something else but stopped herself. 

“Not a party person?” you guessed. 

“No, not really. Owen likes them,” she said, “He’s very social.”

Ugh, Owen. Stupid Owen. You’d met him, and it really hurt you to say it, but he was a nice guy, which made it all so much harder.

“Oh I bet,” you said, not really meaning anything particular about it. 

“I saw you down at the shooting range the other day,” you said, fishing.

Trying to get Abby to talk about herself was like pulling teeth. The only successes you had were when you tricked her into talking about something she really liked. So far you’d only been able to get her talking about horses and Manny’s cooking. You were looking to see if you could add shooting to the miserably short list.

“Yeah,” she said simply. After a moment, she seemed to notice the hungry look on your face and continued, if only for your benefit, “I was a soldier back in Utah.”

Woah. You knew she was from Utah, but this was the first you’d heard of her being a soldier. You knew some of her friends had started their training at the stadium, but to hear that she used to be a soldier… It raised a few questions. Why wasn’t she still one? And what organization was she a soldier for? ‘Soldier’ was a very particular word. She could have said she was a fighter, which could mean anything. But ‘soldier’ implied hierarchy, and hierarchy meant leadership. 

You forced yourself to calm down. She’d tell you in her own time. You listened as she continued. She spoke slowly, like she was choosing her words purposefully.

“I… haven’t been able to do the same here yet. I was just practicing, trying not to get rusty.”

You had a million questions, but you settled for the most boring one, the one that was most likely to keep her talking.

“Are you a good shot?” you teased.

She laughed, “I like to think so.”

When she didn’t continue, you asked a riskier question, “Do you miss it?”

Maybe it was the alcohol dulling your insight, but the look she gave you was inscrutable. 

“Yeah. I do,“ she sighed, “More than anything.” 

Unbelievably, she continued, “It wasn’t my choice. I wanted to join training, be a WLF soldier, but my friend-” she paused. “Mel told someone I wasn’t fit.” 

Her face twisted into an emotion you hadn’t yet seen from her, anger. 

“You know she didn’t even tell me. I was just told I couldn’t join training. It was a week before Owen eventually told me why,” she huffed, shaking her head. 

“I like your friends,” you said. “I would never want to say anything bad about them but… I just feel like that’s kind of fucked up. Like you should be able to make your own decisions. And besides, if you weren’t fit for the field someone would notice, our trainers aren’t stupid.”

She laughed again, your favorite sound, “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Anytime,” you smirked at her, trying to be suave. 

A mix of the alcohol and your own innate restlessness was tugging at your legs. “Hey, dumb idea, feel free to say no but, do you wanna dance?” you held out your hand, hoping she’d take it.

A few songs and a round of shots later, Abby started getting overwhelmed again. You had just finished twirling around like a maniac and were sitting on the floor trying to catch your breath. Abby thought you must have noticed her hesitance to go back out to the dance floor because you grabbed her hand wordlessly and pulled her back to the staircase. As she went to sit, Abby saw your face light up with that look that almost always meant trouble. You giggled as you led a bewildered Abby further up the staircase to the suspended metal catwalk. When she saw what you intended to do, she stopped in her tracks. Abby tugged your hand until you turned, looking at her questioningly. 

“Let’s not,” she said, trying and failing not to let her anxiety seep into her voice.

“What why?” you asked.

“It just- It’s not safe,” she pleaded.

“Abigail,” you said, like you had discovered something awesome, “Are you afraid of heights?”

Abby knew she wasn’t a good liar but she tried anyway, “What? No! I just… don’t wanna be too far from the party, that’s all.”

You giggled and led Abby back down a few steps, “Alright scaredy-cat, we can just sit on the stairs like boring people,” despite your sarcastic words, the smile never left your face. 

As Abby sat back down, she watched you boldly swing your legs over onto her lap. It was probably the alcohol, but she wouldn’t put it past you to do the same thing sober. Abby felt a weird kind of guilt. She didn’t know where it was coming from, she and Nora sat close all the time. Abby was startled out of trying to dissect the complicated feeling when you spoke.

“I could get you into training,” you said, looking at her. 

God, Abby always felt so exposed when you looked at her. 

“What?” she asked, still thinking about the leg thing.

“I could talk to Amarillo, she runs the newbie combat training. I mean you're still going to have to do well, but I’m not worried.” 

That. That was not what she was expecting you to say. She didn’t even know you had that power. She thought it was kind of you, to go out on a limb for her.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” Abby said. She had no clue how to even begin to explain to you how much you meant to her. She could barely explain it herself.

[glass-apothecary]

writing a short fic about abby and reader having a baby. her job isn't really that important to the meat of the story but I still can't decide