[warnings]: chef! Abby, unserious, suggestive mentions, headcannons, wc 1k , part 2 is being rewritten!
Chef! Abby’s! first viral video was around a year ago. A simple clip of her making cacio e pepe. The video was beautifully shot, a warm coloring complementing the glossy dish. but what really got everyone’s attention?
The way her forearms tensed while she cracked fresh pepper. Veins showing themselves along her freckled skin. Comments often reading:
@ “ok but how do i get the pasta to look this good?”
@ “i have something to say but i want to go to college”
@ “ma’am, i’m trying to focus but your ARMS?????😣”
@ “looks SO good💕..and the food i guess”
Chef Abby! had always loved cooking, growing up in a kitchen with her dad, who ran The Cordova, one of downtown Washington’s finest restaurants. But she liked the no pressure vibe of TikTok—just her and her food. She decided she wouldn’t show her face much, if at all. Letting the small flex of her muscles when she kneaded dough into a floured surface be the main visual. While comments? They were only half focused on what she was making.
Naturally, her account gained traction. No face, no voice—just hands, muscles, and literal food porn. Every video felt like a Sunday afternoon in a kitchen. @buffandbasil, now sat at 2.5 million followers.
Chef Abby! tried to ignore the thirst in her comments. How could she? It was honestly a small ego boost, even if it was a bit over the top at times. Like the second pinned video on the top of her page—where all she was doing was making bread.
@ : “knead ME like that.”
@ : “both lips are smiling rn”
@: “need her to bake something in me, respectfully😇“
@: “we need to chill in the comments… *saves video*”
Chef Abby! wasn’t a huge fan of putting her face in her videos. However, the occasional face slip would happen. A quick shot of her golden hair in view or a reflection in a clean pan.
The third and final pinned video? The one sitting at a few million views and a comment section that out-ratioed it?
Her hair draped over a fitted black Henley shirt, the top button undone. Sleeves rolled up to her elbows. And when she reached up for something overhead in a cabinet? A small sliver of her torso—those abs?
Yeah. They lost it.
@ “niagara falls just relocated”
@ “MY CLOTHES, WHERE’D THEY GO!!?!”
@ “her strap drags, for sure. touches the floor.”
@^ “mind you, i would take it.😊”
@ ^^ “y’all are TOO freaked out 💀”
And trust—Chef Abby! loved it. Really. Laying in bed, straight cackling on FaceTime with her best friend Manny, sending him screenshots or full-blown screen sharing. She didn’t reply. Not really. But she absolutely posted a few videos after. No shirt, just her “Kiss the Chef” apron and vibes.
And the one time she did reply?
@: “Do you do weddings?”
@buffandbasil :“Yes, actually.”
Harmless, right? Simple. Straightforward. She had catered weddings before. Large events, alongside her father, but—
@: “As… the bride?”
She saw it exactly three minutes after posting her reply. And in those three minutes, her comment had already tripled in likes. The replies? A war zone.
@ “ANSWER THE QUESTION!”
@ “HELLO???????”
@ “bro air balled.”
@ “ok so u free next saturday or???”
She paid it no mind. Mostly. But sometimes, a few profiles caught her attention. She was human, after all. Chef Abby! had seen your likes. You didn’t know it yet.
For you? It was originally just another cringe or brain rot video being sent by your roommate, Dina. But when you clicked the video of @buffandbasil all laughter halted. Typing back—
You: “Dee, hear me out..😭”
Dina: “Oh my god. OH MY GOD. Lost the plot.”
Chef Abby! considered reciprocating the engagement but saw how many views you usually received on GRWMs and storytimes and decided on a more… exciting approach. Wanting to see if you’d bite.
No aesthetic instrumentals—this time, a voiceover. Her voice, soft, steady Tutorial style.
“So today, we’re making sourdough from scratch. You wanna make sure your starter is active, and then we’re gonna knead it—”
@: “OH SHE TALKS???”
@: “it’s all over the screen ngl 🌊”
@: “asmr videos when?”
@: “great now i have a crush on a faceless chef, thanks.”
@: “I’m ovulating rn please chill 💔💔”
But the only comment she was looking for? Yours.
@ you: “Me next🫦!”
You typed it. And went to bed. She had so many comments—she probably wouldn’t even see it.
But as the sun poured through your curtains the next morning, your stomach flipped. A notification.
Followed by @buffandbasil. 2 hours ago.
Legs swinging the blankets off, then you were sprinting down the hall, launching yourself onto Dina’s bed like a feral animal let loose.
She groaned, blindly swatting at you. “Dude, what the—”
Without another word, you shoved your phone in her face. Dina squinted, blinked a few times, then—loud, cackling.
“Dee. This isn’t a ‘hear me out’ anymore—this is a hold me back.” You said, falling next to her dramatically, smiling.
Dina wheezed, shaking her head. “Nah. You are in the sunken place now, sister.”
[ contains:] sexting(?) she’s so whiny, body hair mention. Gf!Loser Abby!, blurb/drabble.
You are at work. what else is she supposed to do?
Even the smell of cardboard and the task at hand couldn’t distract your girlfriend from the ache between her legs.
Her arms, slightly sore from packing all day—you two were finally moving in together. She beamed at the idea of having access to you at all times. It was so close to being a reality, which made days like this, you being away, even harder.
Hypersexual? No. But hopelessly in love with you? Absolutely. So naturally, when you sent her a video of you at work—all modest, professional—but those high necklines did nothing to stop her eyes from following the lines of your body. She’s seen it bare, but her body was reacting like she hadn’t. All she had to do was wait until 5 p.m. But the minutes felt excruciatingly slow. Then the 20-minute drive to her place, plus rush hour—oh God, she couldn’t bear it.
The image of you smiling, showing her your outfit each morning, would usually have her grinning like an idiot, saving the photo to her “Sunshine” album full of you, and trying to act like she didn’t wait by the door like a dog for its owner once you were off.
So now, her t-shirt sat tugged between her teeth, lifted to showcase her state. A flushed face, complimented by her heavy breathing. Trimmed blonde happy trail leading to her oozing folds. Her arousal dripping down to her anus. Her slightly shaky hands hovered over the screen. She shouldn’t. You had a whole hour left at work. But she was already past the point of making good decisions, so—
Send.
It didn’t take long for you to excuse yourself and take a deep breath, prepared to scold her. Or at least, you planned on it. But hearing her soft pleas was breaking your resolve.
CONTAINS: rough draft for a fic idea I had. MDNI. Religious guilt, impure thoughts, short.
She does it on purpose. You swear she does.
The lift of her shirt to swipe sweat from her forehead. Being sure you’re in her line of sight while she works. The small touches when passing by.
How could one woman weaken your resolve so much?
How, after a long day of doing nothing but giving your wet dreams more fuel, could she step into the main house and “report back”?
Listing everything she took care of—
That wobbly fence your belt loop always seemed to catch on. The left tire on your daddy’s truck that made that god-awful squeak when started in the early morning.
Everything but the small flicker of amusement she’d get when she caught your stare—or even just felt it.
The grumbling of your father’s “Sounds good, thanks again, Abbigail,” seeming more frequent than before.
Didn’t she fix that fence last week?
The only relief was writing it out.
The dark green journal that stayed tucked in the back pocket of worn jeans. Pages of thoughts, frustrations, fantasies.
And hidden in the back pages— Not passwords to the Wi-Fi, or the lockbox— Your feelings. The real ones. About her. Starting innocently from last summer, when she filled in for her father.
Jerry did honest work. Only lived a few roads down—he was the first person you called when things went belly-up. But he’s older now. Knees don’t work as well. So naturally, she came.
Quiet. Worked quickly. Efficient. Good hands are always welcome on the hundreds of acres your family owned.
Months of torture.
Farmhands came and went—but not her. She—Abbigail—always came back.
In your dreams.
And in the back pages of that journal.
June 5th, 2025
“She said she liked the top I was wearing last night. The one I swore I’d never wear again because of how tight it felt across my chest. But her eyes—they lingered. Just for a second. Long enough to make me feel bare. I didn’t sleep after that.”
God, you prayed she never read that one. But what was a girl like you calling on Him for? Impurities like that didn’t deserve His protection.
Sinners only thrive when hidden in the comfort of shadows.
When the sun greets the sky, the mask takes its place— In the form of the farmer’s daughter.
She made supper every evening, brought water to those helping hands, leaned into her daddy’s kisses on the forehead.
So busy being the golden girl, you—so worn—you didn’t notice that your back pocket was empty as you entered the house. Sleeping peacefully in your mattress. Farm dog Gracie barking occasionally when cars passed in the distance.
All while the green spine cracked open—
By fingers that didn’t hold the pen that stained the pages. With an ease, nothing rushed—like it had been done millions of times.
The pages flipped until their heart’s content.
Those same eyes watched you the next morning, messy hair falling as you lifted from your bed. In full view of the bay window warming the room.
The new day dances around you. Smiles and “you’re welcome”s, as usual. Until a voice sent panic striking through you like lightning.
“Not doodling in those pages of yours this mornin’?” your father said as you reached the bottom of the stairs, still slightly sleep-ridden.
No caffeine could wake someone faster. Your hand flew to your pockets. Eyes widening as the words stuck in your throat.
Where is it? Why didn’t I double-check last night? Did someone else find it? Your mind raced.
“Oh sweetheart, relax—you probably left it in your room,” your mother called out from the kitchen
Before they could say another word, the screen door flew open. Your boots crunched the gravel, bolting for the barn. You’d been there last night, writing to your heart’s content. Dreams of the future. Leaving the fields behind one day. Sending postcards to Momma with different cities attached.
But those weren’t the ones you were worried about.
A heaving chest and shaky fingers reached for the rusted latch. Greeted by moos, and Gracie sleeping near the ladder. Eyes searched the wooden floors, hands and knees warming as you looked.
And looked.
Where the hell is it? The furrow in your eyebrow deepened as did the pit in your stomach.
“You alright?” a voice called out a few feet away.
Your body jerked, a small gasp leaving you. Not expecting anyone else to be here. So early anyhow. Slowly lifting your head, trailing up the woman who almost seemed to have appeared.
Heavy boots, dark-washed jeans. That thick brown belt, silver buckle. A white beater lifted just enough to see that blonde happy trail that made your thighs squeeze together.
“Jesus, you scared me—yeah, I’m alright.”
You glanced to the woman with a quirked eyebrow at your position. Realizing how ridiculous you must’ve looked, you pushed to your feet. Hands dusting off your knees.
“Good morning, Ms. Anderson.” You stood slightly awkwardly, with a small head nod.
“I always tell you that just Abby is fine.” She smiled. “But good mornin’” The silence stretched out. Abby cleared her throat and spoke once more. “What are you looking for… in here?”
“Nothing, I just… thought I lost something in here. And now that I’ve checked… I’ll be on my way.” You gave a small smile, shifting to turn on your heels. Unable to hold that eye contact any longer.
“You sure?” “Because I found this—“ short fingers grazed something as she turned, reaching behind her. “on the floor.”
There it was. Thank God. Maybe He was listening.
“Oh! Thank you—little squirrel brain of mine sometimes.” A joke you forced out.
She huffed at the attempt and hummed “Don’t mention it.”
Your fingers brushed as you went to take it from her. Your heart rammed against your ribs. Pausing when she lifted it again slightly like she’d changed her mind. Eyes flickered to her face, meeting hers. Your hand now left with nothing as she teased it backwards. Only you heard her say—
“The way she moves—like she knows time will wait for her.” You froze. Your breath caught. Abby only tilted her head “That’s pretty, y’know? Like poetry.”
Oh, how sweet, you thought. Yet, Your heart pounded louder. How far did she read?
“Thank you…It’s nothing really. Just something I do when I’m bored.” You barely managed the words. They sounded distant, hollow in your mouth—like they belonged to someone else. Your hand closed around the journal like a secret you couldn’t bury fast enough. And then you turned. Quick. Too quick. Boots scraping against the barn floor. already vowing to be more careful next time.
That was a close one. Just leave, get this book of sin from her. Wanting to throw lighter fluid on it even. However, before you could make your escape she continued, the words burning in the light—
“Her eyes lingered. Just for a second. Long enough to make me feel bare.” Then with a small chuckle “That’s the line, ain’t it?”
Her silky voice cut through the air behind you, amusement wrapped around every word. You stopped cold. Turned slowly. “Didn’t sleep after that, huh?”
“What—what did you—” you stammered. “Oh lord—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for you to read—”
She cut you off with a soft laugh, stepping closer. “It’s alright, really”
“That’s a filthy little thought for a girl who says good morning like a church bell.” Her eyes flicked to the journal still clutched in your guilty hands.
The speakers blasted, the bass thumping against the walls like a rabbit’s foot tapping anxiously. Lyrics were being yelled back at them, a sea of faceless bodies moving carelessly, lost in the music. Two weeks into tour, unfamiliar cities and strange smells were nothing new to the three on the shining stage above. They were beautiful in their own ways—like a sunset, a rose, the ocean’s waves. Not comparable.
So a few weeks ago, you thought, Why have one when I can have all three?
Exploring their different talents had been… fun. Then, Vi was the first to notice.
She had shown up that night thinking you were there for her, but that assumption wavered when she caught Ellie shooting you a small wave from stage left—and worse, you waving back. Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second before she forced herself to shake it off. Maybe Ellie just misread it. She let it go. Focused on the music.
Until it came right back hours later, when the venue had emptied, their voices hoarse, shoulders sore, adrenaline fading into exhaustion.
Ellie, scrolling through her phone as she leaned against one of the amps, suddenly let out a low whistle. “Goddamn,” she muttered. “I fumbled.”
Vi, midway through peeling the label off her beer, looked up. “Huh?”
Ellie turned her phone around, showing the screen. It was a picture of you. a clear thirst trap, captioned: “Had to make a pit stop in Cali—miss me?”
Vi nearly dropped the glass in her hand. The odd moment from hours ago resurfacing. She jerked forward, snatching the phone out of Ellie’s hand. “You fumbled her?” Her eyes glued to the image.
Ellie glared at her. “Okay, rude.”
But Vi wasn’t listening. She was too busy swiping through your profile, her expression shifting to pure disbelief. How could she have missed it? At the bottom of your page—
‘Followed by sixstringbandit, bassknuckles, drum_warrior, and others.’
“I—hold on. Hold on.” Vi suddenly looked up, eyes sharp. “You’re saying you hooked up with her?”
Abby, who had been tossing a drumstick between her hands, stopped mid-motion. She leaned over to see what had their attention. Her brows furrowed.
“…Wait. Her?”
Ellie tilted her head. “What, you know her too?”
The realization poured over the three like ice. Abby spoke up first, mostly to herself. “Oh, gross. I’m getting tested.” Her nose wrinkled like she was physically pained by the mental image of you with her bandmates.
“Tested? Excuse me? I’m clean—” Vi swung her head to her left, a little offended.
“So am I—” Ellie sighed.
However, Her comment stuck out like a sore thumb, causing Vi to shoot Abby a look. Ellie lifted her head at that. The silence between the two was too telling.
“What! You guys don’t think I—” Ellie stammered, the words suddenly feeling too thick. Fingers tugging on the guitar pick necklace around her neck.
“Well, did you..?” Abby asked, crossing her arms.
“No—like almost…” Ellie ran a hand down her face, her cheeks flushing pink.
“See.”
“Pause. How do you ‘almost’ fuck someone?” Vi asked, raising a brow.
“Oh my gosh, screw both of you.” Ellie rolled her eyes and stood up, flashing them both the middle finger for emphasis before stomping onto the tour bus.
The murmur of traffic echoed in the distance. Abby ran a hand through her golden hair, rolling her shoulders. Her colliding thoughts were interrupted by a playful whisper.
“Ten bucks she texts me back faster,” Vi dragged out, a shit-eating grin spreading across her face. “You know she always liked my hands.”
The eye contact held for half a second before Abby was moving.
With a small shove to Vi’s tattooed shoulder—just enough to throw her off, Abby took the head start onto the bus.
But with Abby’s strong thighs bracketing yours and the relentless pace of her hips, stillness was impossible. Every movement sent you bouncing in sloppy, desperate motions, the burn of restraint sinking into your wrists where the rope held you still.
“I’ve seen you do better than that,” she drawled, voice thick with something dark and pleased. “Faster.”
A sharp smack landed on the plush of your ass, heat blooming under her palm. You mewled at the sting, each correction pushing you further into the overwhelming haze of her touch. After weeks of her purposely keeping her hands off you, this was too much—your body was pliant, overstimulated, eager to take whatever she gave.
“Sweet girl, your ears must be full of wax,” she murmured, amusement dripping from every syllable. The rope in her grip went taut, pulling you into a perfect arch, pressing your chest flush against the mattress. Her breath was hot against your neck as she leaned in, lips ghosting over sensitive skin. “Because I thought I said—stop squirming.”
“Don’t run, darlin’.” Her voice was syrupy, teasing, as her hand tightened around the fibers, her hips grinding into yours with a slow, devastating roll. “You ain’t gettin’ far anyhow.”
Her grip flexed, sending a shiver up your spine as she let out a rough, needy sigh. “God, I’ve been dreamin’ about this,” she admitted, her eyes fixed on the recoil of your body with every thrust.
Time blurred, pleasure laced with the lingering ache of her teasing, her hands, her rope. And when it was over—when she finally untied you, her calloused fingers tracing over the reddened skin of your wrists—her voice was soft again, almost cooing.
“Oh, babydoll… just look at you.” She tucked a damp strand of hair behind your ear, tilting your flushed face toward her, lips curling in satisfaction. “What a mess. Now, tell me—who did all that?”
“'Cause we're way too involved, just to cut and not call”
Situationship! Abby Drabble
࣪𖤐.ᐟ Warnings: none, just two idiots pining, fluff, 2k words. IFY This was 110% Inspired by this — more Abby here — same AU
The sound of Abby’s door clicking shut behind you was second nature by now. You’d met her after being transferred to the WLF base. thrown into a new routine, a new home, with new faces. Eyes feeling- no, knowing you are sizing you up. And hers, Abby, had been one of them. What started as a proper passing familiarity. working the same routes, seeing her in the gym, nodding at each other across crowded mess hall tables. had turned into nights spent in her room, pretending it was casual.
But the feelings had started to bleed through…
First, it was the small things. Redoing her braid after you’d messed it up by tugging on it all night. Jokingly calling her patrol dog, your “baby” when she curled up beside you, earning a sound of amusement from Abby. Then she’d started catching your wrist before you could slip away, her fingers firm but careful. The dim glow of a lantern casting shadows across her face as she’d murmur, “It’s late. You can head back in the morning, yeah?” Now, after weeks of being apart. separate assignments. However the pit in Abby’s stomach from your absence was impossible to ignore. Too obvious to be anything other than what it was. Or what was building.
Abby was sprawled her bed, one arm tucked behind her head, a small smile on her lips as you stepped inside.
“Hey, stranger. Starting to think you forgot about me.”
You sat beside her, the mattress dipping under your weight as her arm stretched along the back, her fingertips brushing your shoulder, resting on the fabric of your shirt. This was supposed to be easy. No strings attached. But as she laughed, her gaze lingering on yours, something soft and knowing in her expression, she realized you both were in trouble.
in deeper than either of you would admit.
“Forget about you? Please, never.” You joked, bumping her shoulder with yours. Truth was, you couldn’t even dream of forgetting about her.
Abby humed, tilting her head to the side. Her braid following her small movement. “You say that now, but you haven’t even bothered to check in for almost three weeks.” There was tease lilt to her tone, but a small part of her was beginning to wonder if maybe you’d decided she wasn’t worth the trouble after all. Trying to push that past relationship troubles take over.
“Really?” You furrowed your eyebrows, thinking back to how long it had actually been. It clicked She was…counting? Regardless she was right. yes, it had been awhile. “Oh… shit, I’m sorry, Abs. Got busy, I guess?” You rubbed your arm, glancing over at her. It was a weak statement but it’s all you could mutter out.
Abby rolled her eyes, nudging you with her knee. “Busy, huh? Couldn’t even leave a note or something?” She gave you a pointed look, pouting dramatically. “Im offended.” But as she took in your sheepish expression, her gaze softened. Her bottom lip out.
“Hey! Don’t do that. You’re a horrible communicator too, and you know it,” you chuckled, reaching out to tilt her face toward you with a finger under her chin. Scanning over the new scar on the side of her cheek.
Abby scoffed, still faking offense. “Oh, so now it’s my fault, huh?”
She smirked as your fingers gently lifted her chin, her eyes meeting yours. A familiar spark flickered between you, something that felt like it was always standing behind you. Looming.
You nodded jokingly, scanning her face again. “Mhm. I’m soo not taking accountability here.”
Abby rolled her eyes again, but there was a mischievous glint in them. She pouted again, though this time it was clearly more playful than serious. “Oh really? I see how it is.” She leaned into your touch, her voice much quieter than before. Fingers twitching to reach over and hold you more.
You chuckled, brushing a few loose strands of hair behind her ear before cupping her face. “Oh Yeah? You do?”
Abby’s teasing melted away the moment your hands settled on her skin. Your touch was too gentle, too easy, and it sent a shiver down her spine. She knew she should keep things light, keep up the playful air, but the way you were looking at her? Like she meant something? It was fucking terrifying. You always looked at her like that, always.
“Earth to Andersonnnn,” you teased, your thumb caressing over her cheek. Eyes on hers, like you were trying to read her thoughts.
Abby blinked, cheeks tinged with a rush of heat. She let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “Sorry, got lost in thought for a second.” Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, savoring the feel of your touch. It felt too natural. Too safe.
“I see that,” you hummed, shifting along the couch until you settled onto her lap, resting on her thighs. “Whatcha thinking about, hm?”
Abby’s hands instinctively found your hips, her grip firm but careful. The warmth of you against her sent a flood of emotions rushing through her. Ones she’d been trying to ignore for weeks, months. Ever since you first kissed her if she being completely honest with herself. Your arms around her neck, the soft sigh you let out. it wouldn’t leave her, ever.
She exhaled, her fingers absentmindedly skimming the hem of your shirt. “Nothing. Just… stuff.”
“Stuff,” you repeated, unconvinced. You sighed, resting your face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the familiar scent of pine. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop by sooner. But I… I thought about you.” Your voice was quieter now. “I promise.”
Abby’s breath caught as you nuzzled closer, her fingers tracing lazy circles along your back. She closed her eyes, relishing in your warmth, in the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against her. Worried hers was loud enough for you to hear.
“I thought about you too,” she admitted, barely above a hush. More than she should have. More than she wanted to. But admitting that meant something, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to face what that was. It screamed at her, little did she know it was mutual annoyance. That nagging to just face what was happening, like taking the sun away from a blooming flower. Forcing the petals to stay shut. She swallowed hard, gripping your waist just a little tighter.
“No, Abs… like, really missed you.” You sighed, pressing a small kiss to her shoulder before leaning back to meet her eyes. “Like more… than I should.”
Abby’s heart thumped at your words. She averted her gaze, trying to shove down the overwhelming feeling creeping up her throat. But when she felt your lips against her skin, her resolve broke. She looked at you then. really looked at you. That look you’d always given her whether you knew you were doing it or not. Your face, so open, so…unguarded. A expression she hadn’t yet memorized.
“More than you should?” she echoed, voice barely above a whisper.
You sighed, tilting your head back to stare at the ceiling. A thousand words wanted to spill but the only one you let fall was..
“Yeah.”
A long silence stretched between you, those heavy with unspoken words.
The warm of her fingers traced slow invisible patterns along your waist, her thoughts a whirlwind of emotions she didn’t know how to name. Or if she should. She took a deep breath, exhaling shakily before finally admitting, “I… I’ve missed you too. More than I should.”
You glanced back down at her, a small sigh of relief escaping your lips. “Not just me then?” you murmured, resting your forehead against hers, feeling the warmth of her breath against your skin.“Good… I feel better about that.”
Abby closed her eyes, savoring the weight of you against her, the way your fingers danced along her arm like this was something much more. “No, not just you,” she murmured, her voice softer now. She opened her eyes, searching your face for something. reassurance, maybe. A sign that this wasn’t just in her head.
You chuckled, running a hand along her arm. “I mean, you are so cute. How could I not think about your stupid face?”
Abby let out a short laugh, swatting at your arm. The tension eased just slightly. “Oh, you’re one to talk, Miss ’Too Busy to Check In,’” she teased.
“Oh, shut up! Now I’ll find you every day just to spite you. How’s that?” You grinned, tilting her face up once more, Faces much closer than before.
Abby huffed, pretending to be put off, but her heart was hammering against her ribs. “You better. I’ll be waiting for it. Every single time. No pressure, though.” She smiled, raising an eyebrow at you as your hands cupped her face. “Oh? And what else? Gonna bring me flowers too?”
You scoffed, arching a brow back at her. “Oh? What kind of flowers would Miss Anderson want?”
She pretended to think about it, tapping her chin before grinning. “Lilies. The white ones.”
You let out a soft laugh. “Lilies? That’s real romantic, Abby.” you hummed. “But I like the idea. It’s a deal then. ilies for your time.”
Abby chuckled, playfully swatting your arm. “Oh, so now it’s a trade? Fine, You’ve got yourself a deal.” Her fingers idly traced the back of your neck as she softened, her gaze stamped on yours.
“Good. You don’t have a choice anyway.” You leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. “Now, can I kiss you, or are we just gonna flirt until the sun comes up?”
Abby pretended to think about it, her fingers still playing with the hem of your shirt. “Hmm… such a hard choice.” She whispered back, but the hunger in her eyes betrayed her.
⋆. ࿔ Warnings: smut(?), no plot lol, L- word bombs. Pet names used. Random Drabble , lowkey apart of this
Everytime I remember how gentle her voice is, I think about soft intimacy with her….
✧ “Tell me if it hurts, yeah?” always looking out for you even when she was losing herself in the moment.
✧ “You look so—fuck,” she exhaled, her breath shaky as she watched you, as if she couldn’t believe you were real. “So goddamn beautiful.”
✧ A groan would ring out in her chest, deep “Mngh—yes. Holy shit, princess,” she breathed, her grip tightening like she was grounding herself in you.
✧ She shuddered when you moaned her name, like it did something to her. “I love when you say my name like that,” she rasped, fingers flexing against your thigh.
✧ When you reached for her, she was already there. “I’m right here. I got you,” she murmured, lacing her fingers through yours, squeezing like a silent promise.
✧ She dipped down, her lips trailing over your neck, slow and deliberate, pressing soft kisses down to your collarbone. “Feel good, baby?” A pause, her breath warm against your skin. “Still okay?”
✧ She let out a soft chuckle, hands steadying your hips when you got ahead of yourself. “Mm—wait, wait. Slow down, gorgeous.” She smirked, voice teasing but firm. “We’ve got all night.”
✧ If you ever forgot to breathe, lost in the moment, she always noticed. “Hey, breathe,” she murmured, thumb brushing under your chin to tilt your face up to hers. “There you go. Can’t have you passing out on me now, can I?”
✧ Her head tipped back slightly, a pant slipping past her lips. “Jesus—who taught you that?” She let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head as her hands roamed your skin. “No—no, definitely not a complaint.”
✧ Her voice was softer then, almost in awe. “You look so pretty laid out for me.” Her fingers traced the length of your body, slow and reverent, like she was committing every inch of you to memory.
The heat between you, the weight of her body, the sound of her breath mixing with yours. it was almost too much. Just two women tangled together in something sacred, something undeniably real, And then, the words slipped out. not higher than a whisper. Your cheek pressed against hers. All moments stopped, she Pulled back just enough to see your face, ‘I love you’. Those three words rung out into the space. Nothing else filled it until her lips parted. “You do?” Her voice was so quiet, so bare. Then, a breathless laugh, laced with disbelief. “Oh my god, please—say it again.”
And when you did, she kissed you like she was memorizing you, like she needed you closer than skin, closer than breath. Like those words had just undone something inside her.
this request was siting. I’m sorry my creative juices weren’t flowing but! What about both? (Note! I have 0 knowledge on this so bear with me for sake of the story.)
Giddy up, buttercup!
Trainers daughter x rider! Abby- Drabble
M.list
Abby Anderson had spent her whole life in the saddle. With a father like Jerry Anderson—a decorated equestrian champion—it was practically in her blood. Riding was second nature, a place where she could push herself, clear her head, and make her dad proud. Especially now, when the grief of losing her mother still pressed against her ribs like a too-tight cinch.
Here, at Blue Ridge Riding Academy, one of the best equestrian schools in the country, Abby was in her element. She had structure. Discipline. Control.
Only problem? You.
Her trainer’s daughter.
God, you were such a distraction. And Abby wasn’t one to get thrown off her game easily. But the first time she saw you? Talk about swept off her feet, literally.She lost focus. just for a second. But a second was all it took. One misstep, one shift in balance, and suddenly, she SPLAT was on her ass in the dirt, staring up at the sky while her horse snorted in disapproval.
Of course, it had to be in front of you.
Friends, Nora and Manny never let her live it down.
Now, weeks later, she caught herself doing it again. Blue eyes flicking toward you as you leaned against the fence, chatting with your dad. She forced herself to focus, to tighten the cinch on her saddle, but the damage was already done.
“She’s looking again,” Manny muttered.
“Obviously.” Nora sighed, shoving open the dorm room door. “Will you just talk to her already?”
Abby kicked off her boots, scowling. “Not happening.”
Manny smirked. “What, you don’t think she noticed you eating dirt last week?”
Abby launched a boot at his head. He dodged, laughing.
“Look, Anderson,” Nora said, flopping onto her bed. “Either you talk to her, or we start a betting pool on how many times you embarrass yourself before you grow a pair.”
Abby groaned, running a hand down her face. This was ridiculous. She’d faced brutal training regimens, competitions, broken bones. but apparently, you were the one thing she couldn’t handle.
