justanotherabbystan - Tumblr blog

justanotherabbystan · 3 days ago

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something overwhelming, something everlasting

pairing: abby x fem!reader

content & warnings: WLF Abby, unintentional trespasser reader turned WLF, canon violence, slow burn romance, angst, fluff, no use of y/n, no reader description, character death, smut (18+) (to be updated)

men + minors dni

summary: after months of fending for yourself along with your companion, you end up in the middle of a brutal attack, leaving you alone, helpless and bleeding out. you just about accepted your fate, until a group showed up, and the next thing you knew, you were hurtling towards a medical tent being carried in a pair of strong arms. in the midst of navigating a whole new life, things seem to be taking a while to work themselves out...

chapter rundown: gore typical of tlou, panic attacks, reader in discomfort basically the whole chapter sorry... we're getting set up here!

chapter summary: you don't remember much from the attack. just faint images, yelling, and eventually being rushed around and hooked up to machines. sometimes parts come back to you, but mostly you're trying to shove the memory as far away from your consciousness as possible. this place in seattle had taken you in, without much friendly reception, but you were appreciative, nonetheless. settling in was more difficult than you would have liked.

word count: 3.25k

Chapter One: A tough time settling in

It wasn’t until you had slammed the door shut, thrown your pack down, and fallen onto your bed that you started bawling. Big, breathy sobs coming in quick succession from deep in your core, the afternoon of tension finally spilling over and releasing itself from your body. Rain tapped heavily on your window, mimicking the hot tears running down your face, almost mocking your state as you laid back, face screwed up in unbridled discomfort.

You hadn’t felt this upset or anxious in days. Things had been getting better here in Seattle, or so you’d tried to convince yourself. Once you had received your work assignment, you had been befriended by another member of kitchen staff, Polly, albeit quite intensely. She was nearing elderly, strands of greying dark curls sprouting wildly from her scalp, mother-like in her tendency to coddle, and she took you under her wing.

‘That poor lost lamb,’ she had muttered to herself under her breath when she first saw you timidly shuffle in through those squeaky double doors of the mess hall.

‘Hey, you there!’ She scurried over.

‘C’mere. Lemme get a good look at ya,’ She had taken you by the shoulders and pulled you gently round so that the fluorescents were lighting your sullen features. You hadn’t quite known how to react, not enjoying being touched, tense and weary, but something about her demeanour seemed so harmless that you couldn’t protest. Not that you would’ve, back then – you were too overwhelmed to say one word out of line for the first few weeks– only mumbling in short, direct answers when spoken to.

‘There, now,’ She squinted her hazel eyes, crowsfeet deepening, appraising you. Your eyes went wide with confusion, darting from hers to the door, back to her, then to the floor, highly uncomfortable.

‘Yep, just as I thought!’ She beamed with pride, letting go of you and reaching into the pocket of her apron. She pulled out a tape measure, but as she went to touch you again, she noticed you flinch. She paused, seemingly collecting herself with a short, chesty laugh.

‘Ah, sorry, darlin’… Ol’ Polly’s always getting ahead of herself. I’m not gonna hurt ya. Just seein’ what— or who I’m workin’ with.’ You found it odd, but she was not exactly off-putting. You thought it weird she needed to analyse you just because you were working together, she’d have plenty of time to see you during meal prep hours over the next however many months. You assumed the tape measure was for your uniform. She most likely didn’t know that the lady who told you of your assignment also brought you a pile of ill-fitting work clothes. Plain black t-shirts and baggy cargos, some hairnets and caps, as well as a few stained aprons adorned with varying degrees of obnoxious patterns.

‘It’s okay,’ you offered, attempting a small smile, gently stepping back a pace and wrapping your arms around yourself, feeling vulnerable. She perked up again, returning your gesture with a gummy smile of her own.

Since then, you had gotten used to her forwardness. As days, and then weeks went by, you warmed up to her unusual personality. She loosely reminded you of someone, someone you’d rather not think too deeply about for fear of cracking straight down the middle, but the vague resemblance in temperament lingered in the back of your mind. She was attentive in your training, insisting on being the one to guide you in most things, praising you when you did well, and then tutting fondly at your mistakes before snapping the directions at you one more time.

One afternoon, after the lunch rush, you had been collecting and stacking dirty trays by the basins when Polly called you over.

‘C’mere, duck. Got somethin’ for ya,’ She reached into her apron pocket and produced a set of tiny hairclips in three different shades of blue.

‘Noticed ya hair gets in ya face after a long shift. Thought these might be of use to ya,’ She handed the row of clips to you. You looked closer at them.

‘Thank you, Polly. These are… really cute,’ You smiled at her. You knew you would wear them when she would be around to see, heart warmed just to have been thought of, but they were not exactly something you would usually choose to wear. You felt a pang of something painful in your chest. Having someone take care of you again – notice things about you, as small as wisps of hair getting in your eyes – it was a strange feeling. You thanked her again, tucking the clips into your apron pocket and patting the indent where they lay, smiling softly. You were touched by the sentiment, and hopeful that you were taking steps towards feeling more like yourself, again.

‘So, Polly definitely made you her new little project, huh?’

‘…Excuse me?’ you questioned, immediately uncomfortable with the sudden interaction at the dining table. It was your day off, and you didn’t usually eat in the mess hall; you preferred to take your meal away to a quiet spot outside and eat in peace. But today, you had decided to sit at a table indoors.

It was raining out, and you had been feeling like isolating maybe wasn’t the best way to move forward here. So, even if you didn’t talk to anyone, sitting in the busy hall would make you feel closer to being part of a community. Despite your desire to just wrap your food in a napkin and take it up to your room, you took a breath and sat a little way down from another group of people, eating and chatting loudly amongst themselves.

The man who accosted you looked vaguely familiar, you thought he was one of the men who brought you here. Scanning a quick look over at his friends confirmed this memory, noticing the tall man with dark features who had helped lift you from the roadside, smirking at the two of you in amusement.

‘Let the newbie eat her burrito, man,’ He chuckled, an accent lacing his words.

The girl was also there. Your heart made an irregular beat when your eyes landed on her; she had an intriguing physicality that made you want to stare. Her face had a young essence, soft eyebrows knitted together in a seemingly permanent scowl of concentration, her light eyes cast down, a soft pout playing on her lips as she scooped up another spoonful of rice and beans. Yes – her face looked sweet – almost innocent in certain lighting. However, she was impressively built, significantly more muscular than most of the men sat around her. Her frame was broad, intimidating, her grey tank top hanging onto her rounded shoulders, like the silks on a Greek marble statue. You recognised her dirty blonde hair pulled back into a neat braid that fell down her back.

She felt you staring, a burning sensation on her skin, and she looked up at you, unsmiling, curious. You quickly looked away, realising you had spent too long appraising her. You chided yourself in your mind. You recalled, then, her imposing figure towering over you, backlit by white sky, her braid falling over her shoulder, expression contorted with an emotion you couldn’t pinpoint, overcome with dizziness from the blood loss.

‘Y’know,’ The man closest beside you started again, chewing obnoxiously as he spoke, gesturing to you with an outstretched hand. He reached over to lightly tap at the clip in your hair with a finger. ‘Her pet. Her newest plaything—’

‘Jordan, knock it off.’ The girl spoke lowly, not looking at you, but rolling her eyes at the man. He put his hands up in defence.

‘I’m just sayin’, Abby. That lady always does this with the newcomers. Always! Her weird little trinkets, I’m telling you,’

‘No one cares about your conspiracy theories, man.’ The guy with the accent responded, nudging the girl in jest, earning no response from her.

‘What’s got you all stone-faced, Abs?’ He questioned, less enthusiastic now, feigning offence at her not joining him in his teasing.

‘Nothing. You guys are just driving me crazy today.’ She mumbled, sighing and rolling her shoulders, then turning her focus back to her plate. The dark-featured man shrugged off her attitude and continued eating, himself.

No more was said to you, the group seemingly forgetting your existence at the table with rapid speed. All except one, the girl they called Abby, who spared a couple of quick glances over at you during the next ten minutes while you cowered in your seat. You took pathetic little bites of your food, having lost your appetite, as well as any yearning you may have been accumulating for human interaction. This wasn’t like you. For something so juvenile to affect you like this. But you were exhausted. You were hurting. All the suffering over the last few weeks, not just the mourning, but being the new girl somewhere again. It was all too much; you could never have predicted things would go this way.

You began to feel overwhelmed, and a pressure began building in your chest. You didn’t know what to do, you didn’t want to cry or panic in front of so many people. So, you sat, ridged, breathing heavily for a moment, staring down at your hands. A couple of people sitting closest to you hushed, noticing your change in breathing and started looking at you. This caught on quickly.

You heard the girl’s voice mutter, ‘Manny,’ as she elbowed the man next to her, his billowing laugh subsiding as he followed Abby’s concerned gaze. He frowned for a moment.

‘Qué pasa, cariño? You okay?’ He asked, an edge of genuine worry in his voice. You looked up at him, eyes wide, hands clammy and shaking as you rushed a nod and stood up. You clumsily grabbed your tray and pack, throwing your food in the trash as you speed-walked out of the cafeteria and through the halls to the stairs, tears already threatening to escape.

You refused until you were in the confines of your room, only then would you cry.

The next morning, your eyes stung as you slowly came into consciousness, distant sounds of birds chirping indicating the early hour. You rubbed your eyes, sighing deeply and stretching your stiff limbs out, star-fishing as wide as was possible in your cramped bunk. You slept surprisingly well, the day before having knocked you into the deepest sleep you’d managed to get in a long time. Usually, your sleep was light, restless, peppered with bad dreams. You’ve had a few night terrors since being here; the same dream in all of them.

You’re crouched behind a moss-ridden brick wall, shallow breaths coming quick, panic setting in. You catch their glinting eyes from across the opening, their expression mirroring the same bewilderment as your own. You had both heard the whistle, both seen the three of them bounding in through the gap in the fence, bows loaded, intense eyes transfixed in your direction. Shit. You weren’t sure what was going on, brain fuzzy with exhaustion – when you had reached this part of town, you’d began seeing some strange things that made you think better of settling down here to rest – but if you were tired, then God knows how your best friend felt.

Their death was always different. Whether they got shot through the eye, smashed in the skull with a hammer, one time they even got their neck broken, the light leaving their eyes as you gasped and wailed. Whichever way it was, they always died – brutally – and you were left, slumped down, blood blooming through your t-shirt around the arrow in your abdomen, watching, helpless.

You wake before the gunshots commence. Always before – if they were ever even going to come — completely alone.

You screamed yourself awake from those ones, soaked in sweat, tears streaming down your face, breathless. Oddly enough, those nightmares always come when you’re more relaxed before you sleep; your subconscious punishing you for momentarily letting the guilt subside to just slightly less than unbearable.

Despite your decent rest last night, your body still felt tired. However, crying yourself to sleep was strangely cathartic, and your heart felt lighter, today. You sat yourself up on your elbows, looking around your small room. Sunlight trickled in through the cracked blinds, casting shadows over the hardwood floors. You knew that people gossiped about how you ended up with your own room. Most people have to share a bigger room, but your nightmares were disturbing enough that your first roommate had complained so much about not getting enough sleep for training within the first week, that you were begrudgingly moved to a newly empty single unit. Apparently, it had belonged to a soldier who had recently, and unfortunately, met their fate against a ‘Scar’, as they called them, out on patrol.

‘Everyone gets nightmares. Who does she think she is? The queen of fuckin’ England? I’ve been here years, and I haven’t gotten half the privilege she has.’

Issac didn’t often react kindly to stragglers, so most people hadn’t the faintest idea why he was being so lenient, nor why the group of patrollers who found you had taken such pity on you, enough to haul you back across town to the medics and have them fix you up. You remember the faintest fragments of conversation while you were in and out of consciousness, lying up against the concrete, hand weakly holding the arrow piercing through you… A woman and a man arguing, one of the other men telling them to stop, a crash, and then the next thing you knew you were in a truck. Throttling around, sprawled across the laps of a couple of them, being held still as to not further injure yourself in your haze.

The gossip never really bothered you much; you had more dire issues to occupy your mind with. You swung your legs over the side of the bed and checked the time on your alarm clock: 7:35. You stood, making your way over to the kitchenette, stretching as you went. You decided you were going to grab some water, get changed and then head down to the mess hall. You had one more day off today; they had kept you on early shifts for a streak of days last week, which meant a 3AM call time to start making breakfast for the crews headed out early. That would have been fine, had you not had to cover your sick coworker’s lunch shifts, too. So, you were scheduled a couple days off to compensate.

It was bustling when you got down there, everyone clambering in line ready for their breakfast. You took one look at the crowd and turned right back around. Breakfast could wait. It’s served until 9:30 anyways, and you weren’t in the mood to be around that many people yet. Instead, you made your way to the gym. Running was your favourite way to release all the frustration that built up inside you. It reminded you that you have a functioning body, lungs that work, limbs that move, and that you’re grateful for it. Bitter about every other aspect of this life, but grateful to move freely through it, nonetheless. You preferred using the track – the fresh air always stinging so sweetly in your lungs as you made your laps – but you had to make do with the treadmill today, given the recent spell of bad weather flooding the track grounds.

The gym was quiet, most people having already gotten their early workout in before breakfast. You put your canteen down, stepping onto the treadmill, immediately frowning at the buttons in front of you. You cursed the rain for forcing you to face your technological ignorance head-on. You fiddled with the settings, thinking you set it up right, but the button to start the machine wasn’t working when you pressed it. You repeatedly slammed on the button, face contorted into a frustrated scowl, sighing deeply.

‘Might help if you actually turned the thing on,’ A smooth voice startled you from behind. You jumped and turned to see her – Abby – with a faint, teasing smirk on her face as she made her way around the machine. She placed a steady hand right next to yours on the treadmill for support as she leaned down and flicked a switch on the underside of the panel. The machine whirred to life. Her finger brushed yours as she pulled herself back up, and the soft touch sent an unexpected shiver through you. ‘Gotta conserve power, and all that. They ask that you keep things off when you’re not using ‘em.’

‘Oh… right, uh, thanks,’ You managed to say, your cheeks heating up. You were mentally facepalming as she nodded a you’re welcome, a slight mischief playing on her face as if she wanted to tease you for being incompetent, but not knowing you well enough to do so, for fear of coming across as rude or upsetting you. ‘Yeah, as you can tell I don’t usually come in here.’ You admit, looking away. Her presence was intense, keeping eye contact for too long would only make your blush worsen.

‘Hey, it’s all good. Everyone starts somewhere, right? If you tossed me an apron and told me to scrounge up a meal for hundreds of people, I’d be lost,’ She offered a small smile, and you let out a chuckle in response, looking her in the eye again for a moment and holding her stare. An awkward silence fell over you both.

‘You having a good workout?’ You asked, scanning the rest of the gym again, for the first time observing the different contraptions set up around the place. The frown returned to your face imagining trying to use any of it. Abby breathed heavily out of her nose in amusement at your expression.

‘Yeah, I’m just about done,’ She instinctively squeezed her arm around the bicep, briefly massaging the muscle. Your eyes wandered to her hand. There was a sheen to her skin where she had been sweating, her pale freckled shoulders out again, just like yesterday. You tried not to stare. Another beat of silence.

‘Look – I’m… I’m sorry you’ve been having a tough time settling in,’ She paused, seemingly having trouble knowing the right words to say to you. You shot your eyes back up to her face, surprised. The blush returned momentarily to your cheeks.

‘Noticed that, huh?’ You quipped, playing with your hands.

‘Well, I mean – yeah. Just… you know. I feel bad that you’re struggling.’ She seemed uncomfortable, unused to showing her sympathetic nature.

‘Thanks, Abby… I really appreciate it,’ Surprise briefly took her, like she didn’t know that you knew who she was, shocked to hear her name tumble so perfectly out of your mouth.

‘Yeah, just… if you need anything…’ She trailed off.

‘I’ll be sure to find you if I need any more help with electronics,’ You teased, your heart thrumming behind your chest. She smiled, awkwardly drumming her hands on the rail of the treadmill before pushing herself off and turning to leave.

‘I’ll see you around.’ She threw over her shoulder. You exchanged your goodbyes, turning back to the treadmill controls.

You felt a rush of emotion, warmth flooding through you. You weren’t expecting such a sweet interaction. You felt guilty that you hadn’t expected it from her, preexisting presumptions based on her hard outer shell getting the better of your judgement. Not that you had negative thoughts about her, in fact, it was quite the opposite. But she was quieter than you had expected. More shy, less imposing, an awkward charm lacing her disposition.

Your mind didn’t leave the conversation throughout your entire run, that morning.

please do not translate, copy, or repost as your own!

#this is so gorgeous #abby anderson #abby fanfiction

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