Post-breakup Undercut

my tumblr self is me 12 hours before my shift meanwhile my twitter self is me 12 hours after my shift

abs w bows 4 u <3 🎀🤍

pls give credit if you use any of them!!

I made a baby blanket for a pregnant woman at work and I went back and forth about it like “is this weird? To like hand make something for someone when we’re like friendly acquaintances not like bffs. God why are you so fucking awkward.” Anyway I gave it to her and she said she loved it and in the back of my head I’m like yea she’s nice and probably just humoring the weirdo. Well she texted me a picture this weekend of a scrunchy faced newborn at the hospital wrapped in the blanket I made her. And I’m like. Wow. She loved it so much she took it with her! To the hospital! To give birth! She wrapped her newborn it! I am just so filled with love and joy right now.

People will love the things you make them. Because you thought of them and you cared.

Sunrise - 9 June 2018

florist! abby Headcanons ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

a/n: something quick n sweet you knowwwww got this random thought and had to write it I couldn’t resist I couldn’t. I also saw that no one done florist! abby(?) so I wanted to be the first to hop on! plus I missed writing for Abs — my baby, so enjoy ♡

warnings: 18+, MDNI, some fluff, gets smuttier halfway in, strap, blowjob (strap), eating you out, mentions of obsessive behaviors, polaroid nudes-ish, fingering, edging, public-sex-ishh, soft dom! Abby, tatted! Abby. Hinted at smoker Abby if you squint, petnames, fingers in mouth, masturbation, use of the word mommy, use of the word pussy, fem reader.

divider creds here

ೀ florist! Abby wears a basic white cropped t-shirt and black dickies under her beige apron. Her apron has a rainbow flag pin, with black pliers in one pocket. Doc Martins on her feet, tied miserably into a bow, it’s a miracle she doesn’t trip around the flower shop. She has a carabiner on her belt loop that jingles every time she walks. 

– apart from smelling like the flowers (obvi bc of where she works) smells like heavy pine and fresh soap, like forget the additives – just clean if ykyk

ೀ florist! Abby gets little patchwork tattoos in random places: a dainty lavender tattoo on her wrist, a little crescent moon behind her ear, paw prints on her bicep for her late dog Alice, a ‘gentle artist’ in bolded times new roman font – but dainty on her forearm. Her knuckles are tatted spelling out “FUCK YOU”.

ೀ florist! Abby that has a ‘Save the Bees!’ sticker on the back of her phone case. Super Bee activist.

ೀ florist! Abby who spends all day in the floral shop, playing music from her playlist on the shop’s aux, slightly swaying to the music as she works on a bouquet. She works with such prestige, god her hands work so quickly at building arrangements but the outcome is so beautiful and that’s why she has many customers. She definitely uses any leftover flowers as bookmarks for her books.

ೀ florist! Abby who’s aux will go from Lauryn Hill to Boy Genius to Mac Miller — she gets compliments on her music taste by customers all the time.

ೀ florist! Abby stops working on a bouquet when you walk into the store because of how confused you look. Wanting to save a damsel in distress. Abby moves from her place at the counter walking over to where you stood looking at the different types of flowers, creeping behind you. You smell divine to her, driving her head crazy knowing that your scent alone will be stuck in her head all day. The floral shop is a slow yet steady business, so Abby definitely doesn’t forget a face or a smell. The form-fitting dress you wore that day, the way your hands bunched at the fabric in confusion had her head spinning!

“Beautiful aren’t they?” Abby whispers from behind you,

Actually scares the living shit out of you when you see her standing behind you, but the way the sun was hitting her face from the big window panels made you less nervous. Rather in awe at the beauty in front of you. Her sunkissed skin, and silky blonde mane, were raveled in a delicate braid with wispies around her face. The raspiness from her voice – which honestly sounded like a smoker's voice now that you thought about it. 

ೀ florist! Abby who makes small talk with you while making your boquette for you (taking her slow sweet time), asking you where you’re from and what you’re doing in town? Absolutely praying that the flowers aren’t for some significant other of yours, Abby letting out an exhale when you say that they’re for your mom who you are visiting for dinner. When you mention you are unsure of what flowers to get don’t worry Abby will help you!

“So pretty girl, are you more minimalistic, talking Lilies, Gardenia’s, Jasmine – which is over there...or colorful? Which I think your beautiful self enjoys a nice Orchid, Camellia, or Begonia?”

Definitely shocks you with how well she knows her stuff

ೀ florist! Abby zones out when you are speaking and stares at your lips for far too long, looking at the way your pink gloss shines wondering how your pretty lips would look taking her strap. Percase covered in spit, from your saliva that has built up from blowing her off. Abby wanted to do nothing more than take the pretty little fabric ribbon from your hair and tie it around your hands as she went down on you while you beg her to touch you in all the right places – it was all a dream to her. Wet dreaming with you right in front of her.

Undeniably horny and touch deprived…she spends so much time in the floral shop she doesn’t have time for dating apps and finds shit like Tinder CORNY LOL. 

Meanwhile, you are trying your hardest not to stare at the way her arms are flexing or how her fingers are paying delicate attention to your bouquet, mentally laughing at the “FUCK YOU” on her knuckles, it contrasted her soft nature so much.

ೀ florist! Abby who slips in a little note into your tote back when you’re not looking, with her number on it, hoping that you would find it and call her soon, Which you do find when you are scrambling for your keys on your way back to the car. Deciding it wouldn’t hurt to give the overly, steaming attractive florist a call. 

ೀ florist! Abby when the two of you start dating, she would teach you how to make a bouquet, standing closely behind you – her body right up against your back as you feel her breath tickling your ear as she whispers to you what to do

“Atta girl, look at that my sweet girl – woah! watch your hand there’s a thorn baby.”

Will definitely put her hands over yours as she works with the knife to make sure there isn’t any thorns so you don’t prick yourself. 

ೀ florist! Abby fucking you in the flower shop, when the shop is closed. Having her head in between your thighs, as her jaw slacks – the sound of your juices sloshing against her mouth as she sends hums into your pussy making you let out low mewls. Bringing a hand up to cover your mouth but she slaps it away so that she can see you

“Don’t hide from me baby, I wanna see you…look at how beautiful you look whining for me doll”

ೀ florist! Abby who kept your lace underwear in her pocket after she fucked you in the floral shop keeping it for safe-keeping (pft…we all know what she is doing with that)

ೀ florist! Abby who shows you her small pocket-sized notebook full of different flowers and arrangement ideas she had. Even the sketches of a flower bouquet that she made inspired by you and all your favorite flowers.

ೀ florist! Abby definitely tucks flowers behind your ears, specifically a white or light-pink Carnation. Especially loves putting one behind your ear as she fucks you with her strap, missionary style so she can see your face – just loves your face honestly. Bending down to kiss your lips, her cheeks dusted red with the pressure she applies.

Tucking her head into your neck swiftly smelling the carnation that she put behind your ear driving her even further insane as she drills into you — makes her go faster.

ೀ When she starts teaching you more about flowers, Definitely uses sexual enforcement to get you to remember it. Will have you sat on her counter as she stands in between your legs – locking you in as she lunges two fingers into you, edging you and not letting you cum until you say the right name of the flower that she taught you. But you could hardly focus staring at her inked knuckles as they pump in and out of you which only makes you reach your climax even further. 

“You wanna come don’t you my sweet girl? I know you want to…just say the name– awh don’t whine at me…I know you know it dollface, I don’t buy that you don’t.”

Sometimes she’ll give you a hint if the flower starts with one of the letters on her knuckles she will stick the corresponding finger into you, working at getting you just about there as her finger curls into you. Your vision is blurry as you can hardly tell what the letter is, moaning out as you try to focus on the order of the letters on her knuckles to catch the hint.

“C’mon baby I’m giving you a hint…pay attention sweetheart– focus!”

ೀ florist! Abby when you get it wrong and she finally lets you come — is fake-mad at you, shoving the lettered finger down your throat as you gag on her fingers covered in your juices.

“Baby the hinted letter was C, and the other finger was U, flower: Curcuma. You’ll get it right next time right sweetheart? You won’t let mommy down hmm?”

ೀ florist! Abby is definitely a soft dom just saying… soft as hell, loves when you hold her – kiss her, and skin-to-skin contact is important as hell she just wants to feel you and loves when you baby her. 

ೀ Definitely keeps a Polaroid of you holding flowers in pink floral lingerie in her beige apron and another one of you in her wallet, that way she has you on her at all times (honestly probably touched herself to blow off some steam after a hard shift while looking at it)

ೀ Depending on how far the relationship goes, especially if y’all start talking marriage will get your favorite flower tatted and not tell you until you see a dainty tattoo of your favorite flower on her collarbone slightly above her heart as she is filling you up, you questioning her in between moans about it.

“Mmhm…fuck is that new? Shit..abbyplease – wait is that my favorite flower?” You ask, as she grinds into you – your finger dragging against the tattoo

“Yes baby, you’re all mine. Mine…mine…mine” As she pounds harder into to you each time she says mine. Obsessive, possessive + territorial, let’s talk about it 

ೀ florist! Abby is overall just a sweetheart who loves you so much and just wants you to be her pretty flower – her muse, you definitely inspire most of her bouquets and she is so happy you ran into her shop looking for flowers that day.

Not so fun fact, actually, really disturbing and horrific fact: The list of names was so long, they couldn't even unravel it all the way.

Let that sink in.

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plsss i am begging you to write something for your save a horse ride a cowgirl moodboard, cowgirl!abby would actually send me into cardiac arrest pls and thanks 🙏🏽🙏🏽

tags | abby x reader, domestic fluff, farmer / cowgirl abby

The soft, melodic croon of Patsy Cline's voice echoed throughout the small, rustic kitchen where you resided. The broken-hearted lyrics bounced tenderly off the paint-chipped walls, bidding a sweet farewell through the open window above the kitchen sink. Like fluttering birds, the lace curtains that covered said window swayed gently with the summer breeze; wafting through the small space and bringing with it the smell of upcoming rain and honeysuckles, mixed with the earthy embers of a fire burning somewhere nearby.

After a long, hard day of sitting around doing absolutely nothing, this is just what you needed.

Though, it wasn't like you chose to do nothing- however much you may have loved this arrangement. If it were up to you, you'd be out there right alongside Abby as she plowed the fields, worked tirelessly with the horses or shoveled their manure.

But it wasn't up to you.

Abby made it clear from the get-go that her job was to take care of the homestead, and your job was to sit around and look pretty until she was done. Who were you to argue with that? Well, you were to begin with, but you negotiated, happily settling on cooking Abby three meals a day, and handling the little things here and there.

Which is what you were doing now.

With sud-soaked hands, dish water up to your elbows and pruning the tips of your otherwise soft fingers, your hips swayed in time with the music. The sound of your own voice humming along to the song made it easy to miss the sound of the front screen door opening with a soft squeak of the hinges- something Abby had been meaning to fix, but hadn't gotten around to.

Heavy boots thudded on the ground, attending to the various floor types between the front door and the kitchen as the soles padded quietly on the carpet, until finally squeaking against the linoleum that made up the entirety of the kitchen.

"Hi, baby.." Abby mumbled, her voice raspy and laced with exhaustion as her calloused, overworked hands found home on your hips, pressing herself into you from behind as she nuzzled her sunburnt face into the crook of your neck. The brim of her cowboy hat pressed into your jawline as she planted soft, evenly placed kisses along the expanse of your neck and shoulder.

"Hi.." You breathed out, unable to hide the giddy smile from pulling to your lips as you tilted your head ever-so-slightly. Dishes forgotten, you let the glass plate you were once holding drift to the bottom of the sink with a muffled thud, pulling your arms out of the water, and wiping them on a nearby towel, all while Abby kept herself tucked into your neck.

One sweet kiss after the other, the feeling of Abby's soft, sleepy hums muffled against your neck, prickling goosebumps along the surface of your ticklish skin as you giggled. "What?" she questioned- though the sound was barely audible, morphing into nothing but gibberish as she squeezed the pliable skin of your hips.

"Nothing," You insisted, turning around in Abby's embrace- to which she whined in disagreement of your action, missing your neck.

Now facing the sleepy girl, you gazed up into her hooded eyes. Freckles peppered along her sun-kissed cheeks like constellations, each one never left unkissed when she was in your presence- her freckles had to be your favorite thing. Flicking the brim of her hat a little higher on her forehead, you noticed the pinkish color of her skin, the beginning of a sun tan developing in the form of a funny-looking line on her forehead; pink and pale-colored skin contrasting.

"You hungry?" You asked as your hand reached up to cup Abby's cheek, your thumb brushing against her cheekbone as you admired all that she was. She leaned into your palm, inhaling a deep breath she let out as a soft sigh of contentment.

"Mm, no," She declined. "Just sleepy." She then blinked at you, resembling a sad, pitiful puppy as the oceanic radiance that swirled in her irises bored into you. "Just sleepy.." She repeated, an almost dream-like twang to her voice as she sighed; a long, drawn-out, huhhh..

All that Abby was, subtle wasn't one of them. You couldn't help but laugh- snort, really. Your hand dropped from her cheek, brushing down to the end of the golden braid that cascaded around her broad shoulder. You gave it a small tug. "You wanna nap?"

In nonverbal response, Abby all but tore your arm from its socket as she dragged you upstairs.

why are you the way you are

my first hate ask 😔