Abby Fic- Becoming A Parent With You

"i don't have a type!" i say, adding another big, buff woman to the collection of women i like

manny setting you and abby up on a blind date, even though you’re “just friends” 𓂃⊹ ࣪ ˖

──────

“You owe me,” Manny said, tossing a towel at Abby as she finished a set.

“For what?” She chuckled, catching it midair. She was trying to drown him out and finish her workout, but he was making it damn near impossible.

“That patrol I covered for you last week? Come on. One drink. One dinner. I set you up with someone cool. Trust me.” Manny grinned, leaning up against the barbell rack.

“I hate when you say that,” she muttered, wiping her face, rolling her eyes as she glared back up at him.

Manny clutched a hand over his heart. “She’s smart, funny, not annoying. You’ll actually like her.”

Abby raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “And what’s the catch?”

“No catch.” He held up his hands. “Just… be at the mess hall tonight. Eighteen hundred. I promise you’ll be glad you went.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “It’s gonna suck. I don’t wanna waste my time.”

“Come on, hermana. If it’s awful, I owe you a week of patrol coverage.” Manny replied, unfazed as he reached out to shake Abby’s shoulders.

Abby sighed, pressing the towel against the back of her neck, trying not to smile. “Manny. You say that like your word means anything. If it’s awful, I’ll lock you in the supply closet myself.”

“You’ll thank me later,” he said with a wink, finally walking away and leaving Abby to finish her routine.

── .✦

I sat on the edge of my bed, unlacing my boots, when a knock hit the door. I opened it to find Manny already leaning on the doorframe with a ridiculous grin.

“No,” I said immediately.

“Oh yes. You’re going out tonight.”

I squinted at him, raising an eyebrow. “What kind of ‘out’?”

“Blind date,” he said. “Before you say no—they’re solid. Bit serious, but big heart. Strong as hell.” He shrugged. “I figured that’d be your type.”

I hesitated, wary. “What’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch. Just dinner in the mess at eighteen hundred. You need to get out more.” He smiled, poking me in the ribs.

“Is this some kind of prank or something…?” I groaned, rubbing my forehead.

“Do I look like a man who plays pranks?”

“Yes, actually you do. Because you are.” I respond smugly, pushing him out of the doorway.

He snorted, turning away. “Just go. Please.”

── .✦

The mess hall space within the stadium had once been a cafeteria, now dressed up with mismatched linens and strings of warm lights that someone (Manny) had hung with care. It wasn’t fancy, but he tried. Like everything else we’d built here.

I sat at the table first, my knee bouncing restlessly with barely contained anxiety. I hadn’t asked for this. Manny had cornered me this morning, and then again during rounds, spun something about “someone thoughtful, serious, into books,” and I’d caved out of equal parts curiosity and peer pressure.

Abby walked in two minutes late, her hair swept back into a quick braid, and a clean shirt on. I did a double take, standing up from the table. She immediately stopped in her tracks when she saw me. We both stood there for a second. Confused. Suspicious.

“…Hey,” I said slowly, stepping closer, a bit cautious.

“Hey,” Abby echoed, her brow furrowing.

“Wait. Are you here for…?” I looked around the room slowly.

“No way.” Abby let out a low laugh, running a hand down her face. “Manny?”

“Yeah. Manny said I had a date.”

We stared at each other for a moment, then both broke out into a fit of soft laughter, something easy and fond settling between us.

“Oh my God,” Abby mumbled under her breath, shaking her head. “That bastard.” We both laughed.

“So we’re each other’s blind date… cool.” I sighed, thinking about heading back to my dorm.

A moment passed between us. Abby rubbed the back of her neck. “You wanna just stay? Make it dinner anyway?”

I nodded, a small smile tugging at my lips. “We’re already here. Might as well enjoy it.”

We found a quieter table near the back, away from the louder patrol squads trading stories and jabbing each other over canned chili. The mess hall wasn’t exactly candlelit, but under the dim overheads and faded posters on the wall, the space felt a little more intimate than usual.

“Guess we’re already past the awkward first impressions.” I muttered, gesturing to the chair across from me.

“Guess so,” Abby said, sitting down. “He’s a real piece of work.”

I smiled, a little soft, a little teasing. “I would’ve said yes if you asked me yourself, y’know.”

Abby’s ears turned a little pink. “Maybe I will next time.”

“Next time…” I mumbled to myself, fingers wrapped around my mug. “So, this isn’t a date.”

“Definitely not,” Abby agreed, a little too quickly.

“Just… two friends being tricked by a mutual idiot.”

“Exactly.”

We both smiled, but something hung in the air. Quieter than laughter, a little heavier than coincidence.

“Well, if this was a date, it wouldn’t be the worst.” I said softly.

Abby looked up. “Yeah?”

I smiled. “Yeah.”

Abby grinned. “Then maybe I’ll pay next time. Stadium rations and all.”

Dinner was simple. Lentils, rehydrated steak, and overcooked carrots. Whatever passed as a meal these days. Abby glanced down at her plate. “Luxury...”

“Don’t be a snob,” I teased, poking at my own food with a fork. “It’s got… protein?” I shrug.

“And seasoning that tastes like the floor.” Abby mumbled, her lips tightening.

I laughed softly, and Abby looked up at the sound, catching the way my eyes crinkled slightly when I smiled. The awkwardness melted fast. We already knew each other’s tells, each other’s quiet humor. We ate while talking about patrol rotations, about the book I had picked up from the trading post, about how one of the younger recruits had nearly shot their own foot.

“You clean up nice, by the way,” I added, trying to be casual but sincere.

Abby glanced down at her plain black t-shirt and jeans. “This is… me trying.”

“It works.” I answered warmly, taking a bite of my carrots.

Abby watched me for a second longer than she meant to. “You don’t look too terrible either.”

I raised a brow, amused. “Wow, what a charmer.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t usually do the whole date thing.” She responded, her voice going a bit quiet.

“Neither do I,” I said, voice softer now, a bit more honest. “But this doesn’t feel… weird. Not with you.”

Abby was quiet for a minute, her jaw working like she was chewing on a thought. “Yeah. I was kind of relieved when I saw it was you.”

“Same,” I responded, leaning forward and nudging her boot lightly under the table. “Way better than some sweaty patrol guy.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Abby huffed a laugh, finally relaxing into the conversation. “He played us. Got you to go, got me to go, and left us here like it’s some romcom setup.”

“Joke’s on him,” I said, softly. “You’re not bad company.”

There was a brief pause, not awkward, but full. Warm. I tilted my head slightly. “Have you ever… thought about it?”

Abby blinked. “Thought about what?”

“Me and you,” I mumbled softly, picking at my food. “Not seriously or anything, of course. It’s silly.”

Abby’s throat bobbed with a quiet swallow. “Maybe. Once or twice.”

I looked down at my plate, smiling into it. Neither of us said anything for a long moment, just the clatter of trays and distant conversation around us filling the space.

Then I said, teasing again, “If I’d known it was you, I might’ve actually brushed my hair.”

Abby gave me a playful glance. “That’s how it always looks.”

“Shut up,” I said, laughing again.

Abby grinned. “You look nice. Always do.”

My cheeks flushed at her compliment, and I tried to hide my smile behind my fork.

The “date” label faded, until it didn’t. The air shifted after the shared cookie we agreed to split “because it’d be a waste.” Abby handed me the bigger half without thinking. I paused, looking at the cookie, then at Abby. “You didn’t even fight me on it.”

Abby shrugged. “You like the soft center.”

There was a moment of silence. My brows softened just slightly. “You remember that?”

“I remember a lot about you,” Abby said, quiet now, then took a sip from her tea as if to cover it.

I looked down at the cookie, then broke off a piece and passed it to Abby. “Split the soft center, then.”

Our fingers brushed. Abby’s jaw flexed slightly, a muscle twitching.

“This still isn’t a date,” I murmured, my eyes flickering up to hers.

“Nope,” Abby said, eyes on her hand.

── .✦

We slipped out of the mess hall and into the open walkway, the stadium quiet in the way it only ever was after curfew, when most had gone to their bunks and the air was left to echo through the old corridors. The moonlight slanted through the upper windows, casting soft pools of light that guided our way. Abby walked a little slower than usual. The air between us felt different. The denial a little thinner. Glances a little longer.

“You didn’t have to walk me back,” I said, hands in my pockets, voice gentle.

Abby shrugged one shoulder. “Figured I should, since I’m such a great date and all.”

I smiled faintly. “Oh, so it was a date?”

Abby smirked but didn’t meet my eyes. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

We reached the hallway that led to my room. I paused outside my door, looking up at Abby. Her gaze softened a little in the low light. “I had a good time,” I said quietly.

Abby nodded. “Me too.”

For a second, it felt like neither of us knew whether to linger or say goodnight. My hand hovered over the door handle, but I didn’t turn it yet. Abby glanced down, eyes flicking briefly to my lips, then back up.

I gave a soft, teasing smile. “Goodnight, Abby.”

Abby’s voice was lower than usual when she replied. “’Night.”

But she didn’t go right away. She leaned in, barely brushing her shoulder against mine.

“Meet me in the greenhouse tomorrow afternoon?” She asked.

I nodded, just once, eyes soft. Abby’s smile returned, quiet and sure. I slipped into my room, closing the door with a quiet click.

Abby stood there for a few seconds longer than she meant to, hand curling and uncurling at her side. Then she turned and walked away.

Inside my room, I leaned against the back of the door and let out a slow breath. My heart was still thudding. Not hard, just steady, like it was trying to tell me something. I crossed the room to my bed and sat on the edge, absently untying my boots. The bracelet on my wrist— a rough one I’d braided weeks ago, caught the light. I tugged it off and held it loosely in my hands, thinking.

Outside, Abby’s boots echoed softly as she walked. She wasn’t headed straight to her room, not yet. She took a detour, climbing the narrow stairs that led to the rooftop, where the wind hit harder, cleaner. She braced her forearms on the railing and looked out over the dim lights below.

She thought about the way you had smiled tonight, less guarded, more present. She thought about the warmth of your laugh, the way their boots had bumped under the table and neither of them had pulled away. She thought about what you had asked — if she’d ever thought about them. Abby stared out into the dark, muttering to herself. “More than once.”

── .✦

The greenhouse was tucked away on the far end of the stadium, lit by golden strips of late afternoon sun through weathered glass. The scent of damp earth lingered, the soft buzz of insects in the corners barely noticeable over the creak of the old door as I stepped inside.

Abby was already there, crouched near a planter box, inspecting a cluster of overgrown tomatoes. She looked up when I entered, face unreadable at first, then softening in that way I had started to recognize as being just for me.

“You found it,” Abby said, straightening.

I smiled and closed the door behind me. “You’re not as hard to find as you think you are.”

Abby gave a small chuckle and leaned back against the wooden frame of the planter, arms folded. I came to stand beside her, letting the silence settle for a moment. Out here, away from everything, it was easier to breathe. “Didn’t know you liked plants,” I said.

“Yeah, my dad used to have a greenhouse,” Abby replied, glancing at me. “It’s quiet. No one comes out here much.”

I nodded. “Except when they want to disappear.” We stood there for a minute. Then another. And when Abby tilted her head to look at me, something shifted.

“About last night…” Abby started, voice a little rough around the edges.

I shook my head gently. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

“No, I…” Abby paused. “I liked it. More than I thought I would.”

My heart thudded, hard. I took a step closer, close enough that our arms brushed. “You mean the steak or the part where we almost had a date?”

Abby exhaled a laugh through her nose. “Both.”

We turned to face each other more fully now, my gaze lingering on Abby’s mouth, then flicking up to meet her eyes. “I think,” I said slowly, “we might be bad at pretending we’re just friends.”

Abby’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “I think you might be right.”

Neither of us moved, but the air between us felt electric. Then, carefully, almost like testing gravity, I reached out and laced my pinky through Abby’s. Not a full handhold. Just a small touch. Abby looked down at our joined fingers, then back at me, and gave a single, subtle nod.

“Okay,” Abby said, her voice softer than I had ever heard it.

“Okay,” I echoed, my thumb brushing lightly over the back of Abby’s hand.

── .✦

We left the greenhouse as the sun dipped behind the far edge of the stadium, casting long shadows and staining the clouds with streaks of orange and violet. The walk back wasn’t long, but we stretched it out without saying so. Steps slow, close, unhurried.

“You’re quiet,” I said eventually, my tone light, coaxing.

“I’m just… thinking,” Abby replied. “Trying not to mess this up.”

I looked over at her. “There’s nothing to mess up yet.”

Abby glanced back, the corner of her mouth twitching up. “Yet?”

I grinned. “I mean, unless you’re planning on vanishing into the barracks and avoiding me all week.”

“No,” Abby said quickly, too quickly. She scratched the back of her neck. “I’m not. I liked being with you today.”

My expression softened. “Me too.”

We reached the hallway that split off toward the living quarters, quiet except for the hum of generators and the occasional far off clang. Abby slowed near my door, lingering as if uncertain whether to say goodnight or something else.

I leaned against the wall beside it, looking up at her. “You’re really not gonna kiss me yet?”

Abby blinked, clearly caught off guard. “I… didn’t want to rush you.”

“That’s considerate,” I said, voice low and playful. “But next time, don’t overthink it so hard.”

Abby stepped a little closer, close enough that I could smell the faintest trace of pine soap and sweat on her collar. Her voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. “Next time?”

I reached out and brushed a speck of dirt off her sleeve. “Mhm. I’m not going anywhere.”

For a second, it looked like Abby might lean in. Her gaze lingered, jaw tightening just slightly. But instead, she gave a quiet breath of a laugh and pulled back, eyes warm. “Goodnight.”

I smiled, pushing the door open behind me. “Goodnight, Abby.”

The door clicked softly shut, and I stood still for a heartbeat. Then two. Then three.

The quiet hum of the hallway just outside my door buzzed in my ears, my pulse louder than it should’ve been. I stared at the handle, lips parted, heart thudding.

To hell with it.

I yanked the door back open and jogged barefoot into the corridor, scanning until I saw Abby’s back, just a few paces down, slow moving, like maybe she wasn’t quite ready to leave either.

“Abby,” I called softly.

She turned.

She didn’t have time to say anything before I was in front of her, reaching up, fingers curling into the collar of her jacket, eyes searching hers for half a second. Just enough time for hesitation to flicker. Then none at all. I leaned up and kissed her.

It wasn’t polished, but it was warm and certain. The kind of kiss that carried the quiet weight of something that had been building for a long time. Abby froze just for a second, startled, then softened beneath it. Her hands hovered at my waist, then settled there, careful, steady.

We didn’t pull apart quickly. It was slow, a soft press, a breath, then another. I stayed close enough that my forehead nearly rested against Abby’s. “I didn’t want to overthink it either,” I murmured.

Abby looked at me like the world had shifted a little. Like maybe everything would taste different tomorrow. “You didn’t,” she said quietly. “You got it just right.”

I smiled, slow and sheepish. “So… goodnight again?”

Abby nodded, brushing a loose curl from my cheek. “Yeah. Goodnight.”

This time, I didn’t turn away immediately. I lingered a second more, memorizing the feel of Abby’s hands still warm on my waist, before slipping back toward my door.

And this time, Abby didn’t take another step until she heard the door shut again.

I can't wrap my head around how their are still people that think ellie should have killed abby how are you playing a story based game and seemingly paying 0 attention to the story. they only say this because they're pissed Joel dies and dont like abby, what happened to putting greater biases aside to make and appreciate a good story bro? If you want a story where you kill the final boss at the end go play the modern warefare campaign big boy!!

When I’m insecure about my nose I remember that Abby Anderson has a nose like mine 😓🫶

NOSE TWINSSSS

ufc!au Abby

you don’t wanna cross her on the cage, believe me

“i hate abby anderson”

when she was someone else’s ellie.

when she is someone else’s joel.

abby doodles because she’s so prettyyyyyyy ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

i think abby is 6'0! there is a scene in the game where she measures to be that. if not, that's alright! i love her either way.

Okay I'm gonna just prove her height for realsies

There is indeed a measurement in the game than has her at like 6’2” but this is wrong, scaled incorrectly

This was just a theory until I just now ripped this asset and measured it in Blender, the asset is indeed scaled wrong.

Meanwhile I remeasured Abby's model, this time I'm using her Pillars body that contains her feet, vs just measuring the whole Seattle which has just shoes. Her Seattle head is .3 inches above her Pillar's head, so I'm using that for the basis.

So yes, she is 5'9 with a little wiggle room.

Also even if you want consider the game measurement accurate and not look at the 3d model's scales, then Owen, Manny and like every other NPC is 6’5”, Ellie and Dina are like ~5’8”, and it throws it all off. But yeah, it is confusing with that environment asset that’s just wrong lol, idk why they left it like that 😅

“i hate abby” do not come to my town. do not come.

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.