#abigal anderson

[thetipsybison]

Tlou text posts coz I'm funny

Ellie's one seems like an attack 😭

[deblklesb]

no cus I'm just imagining abby taking care of you in your exam's season (obviously bc I'm so tired and needy and i wanted her to be taking care of me)(MDNI)

all the attitude with calling you sinful, dirty names, when you're not in a sexual situation, doesn't exist usually. but when you're extra tired and bothered and need care, she's more attemptive into cover you with pet names and praises. more careful and soft, caressing you more frequently, pecking your lips everytime she sees you, hugging you and cuddling. she goes around calling you babe, sweety, angel, love, hun; using all the available pet names.

we all know abby usually can't get away from you, can't get enough of you, but when one of you both are like this she's 100% more intense. if you let her, she'll carry you around, no jokes. that tall, strong woman just wants to spoil her sweet girlfriend. she'll be all over you in the kitchen, helping around, asking "want me to help you on something more, babe?" all the time. caressing your hair when you're laying next to her, casually massaging your shoulders and feet.

during sex abby will be gentle. cober you in endless praises, always saying how much of a good girl you are, how delicious you are, how much she loves you. when your hand goes south into her she moans against your neck and repeats how amazing you are. all those words warm your heart, you relax and feels like floating. she understands that need to let go, just being on her arms. when she eats you out and you come in her mouth she just licks a little bit more and then she's right next to you, holding you by the neck so cautiously and pecking your lips.

"Shh, shh... I know babe, it feels so good, right? You were so good for me, such a sweet girl", and you're breathing heavily, her hand touching your core lightly to help you ride that high out while your hips move and twitch. "There you go..."

those times make you grateful for having such a considerate girlfriend, who tries to talk you through those hard times and takes care of you in unique ways. she notices your mood and always make sure to help, knowing very well you'll do the same for her whenever she needs.

[elsfleur]

⋆·˚ ༘ * WHERE THE FLOWERS BLOOM | 0.1

ellie williams x reader x abby anderson

summary: the small tight knit city of jackson anticipates scandal in the arrival of brooding newcomer ellie williams who finds herself drawn to local flower shop girl, though she is not the only one.

content warning: this is a rewrite for something on my old account if it seems familiar, lightly nsfw content, modern!au and presence of original characters for the sake of world building. this is a slow burn fanfiction but hopefully worth the wait.

word count: 1,684

🪷 ʾ ⠀

you exchanged glances across the room as though sharing a secret in code neither of you fully understood but remained too stubborn to demand translation. abby, your abby, if you could call her that, was always the one to break eye contact first, a sip of her drink, a rub of her eyelids. months have passed since she had been truly vulnerable with you, a wretched mess of pouts and tears– the way she had arrived drenched by the rain, nearly falling against herself at your doorstep, begging for kindness, left you imagining terror scenarios for weeks. you held her till the shivers stopped and the sobs softened, dragged her muscular figure onto your bathtub and undressed her into the warm bubbly water.

and you felt sixteen again, caring for the girl who would not hold your hand in public but melt at your fingertips behind closed doors, she who was jackson high school’s basketball captain and miss all star in all her glory, she the daughter of a prestigious surgeon destined for great things and ivy leagues, she who dated owen from soccer but you the girl she truly wished to kiss.

she would call you her little secret as though it was endearing, a pet name, and it drove you sick to your stomach but you were down at your knees with her thighs pressing your cheeks and the moaning echoing louder than the wetness of your tongue by her clit– whenever she would brush the hair away from your face coo you pretty girl with her fingers down your slits you convinced yourself there were worse things to be than hidden, for starters: not hers.

dina caught on to your staring game, clearing her throat as she poured you a second drink in raised eyebrows and suggestiveness. your best friend and her unacquaintance of subtlety had stained your relationship with abby beyond repair, acting as though one trustworthy person having conscience of your affair was equivalent to a stab in the back, you remembered the way she’d screamed at you: i’m not gay! i just… i just liked you. just you. that doesn’t make me anything we are not the same! there were hardly excuses to be made, there were no repairs possibly done. you were an average nobody doomed to jackson and girls forever, whilst she was abigail anderson, trademarked by standing ovations, promising rising star.

you bitterly guessed her ego bested her once the injury happened, stealing away an nba future and a full ride ivy league sports scholarship until all that remained of her was the same honey blonde braid and a new pair of uniforms to replace the basketball jersey, sheriff slacks. abigal anderson, an average nobody doomed to jackson and girls forever, just with an added layer of self hatred on top. you dismissed both your old lover’s and best friend’s stare.

“i hope whoever rented the shop is nicer than flora was”

“i don’t mind either way as long as they’re as hot as flora is to make up for it–“ dina answered with a side smirk retorted by her on and off boyfriend eavesdropping a few tables away with a glare “you know anything about them, anderson?”

the entire town of jackson had stopped on its tracks to peek into the blacked out windows of what used to be flora’s bakery, an exciting guessing game at every arrival of trucks unloading black leather chairs and tall unopened boxes that according to jesse made heavy noises to the shake. the owner, whoever they may be, haven’t made their way to the building yet, and all pointed towards a newcomer. jackson wasn’t used to those.

abby licked her whiskey coated lips before speaking “didn’t take you for a gossip, dina”

“we both know you did”

her eyes were on you again, pale blue like a stormfront, searching your expression. abby anderson was a different kind of beauty, ragged around the edges, rough and sharpened. everyone guessed college would straighten that out of her, ivy league with the rich and powerful far enough from jackson you’d think nostalgia was a disease amongst the trophies and gpas. the cowards wouldn’t look her in the eye since the return, stamping failure further into her skull. she just drank.

“you should get them flowers” jesse cut the tension “from your shop, like a welcome to the neighborhood sorta of thing”

a silly game blossomed into your heart years ago, the inspiration for your flower shop really: how everyone you meet could be described by the floral language. dina thought hers too common, but it was your favorite, a daisy, standing for loyal love and “i’ll never tell”. jesse, a white jasmin, sweet love, amiability. even abby, forget-me-nots. you hoped to see the newcomer before blessing their arrival, if not, daffodils. new beginnings. a safe choice.

“i doubt they will like them” abby scoffed “it’s gonna be a tattoo shop, the owner, ellie, doesn’t really seem like the flowers and sunshine type of girl”

“tattoo shop” dina mused “hot”

🪷 ʾ ⠀

…and she was. the week had ran through you like water between your fingers and with daffodils in hand you were ready, flipping away the open sign from your shop and skipping towards your neighbor. hands busy with the plant pot, you pressed your face against the tinted glass windows as to search for the newcomers who had just hours prior been described to you over the phone with multiple flamable metaphors.

“are you looking for something?”

you were startled, nearly knocking down the vase in your hands and you understood, dina’s voice echoing gasoline, fondue, forest fire, cinnamon liquor through your brain to the point it fogged your response and reactions. freckles like starry war paint, eyebrow scar, pale green iris, peach pink lips, auburn hair gently brushing her shoulder at length. breathtaking, you immediately named the feeling, but she looked worn, tossed around. you blamed it on the lightly bruised eye she carried, caught onto sky grey vibes. you damned the daffodils, immediately thinking of something better: without knowing a single trait, you saw red carnations grow behind her in the way spiritualists would claim to see auras. red carnations; “my heart aches”.

she caught your eye for a second while awaiting your response, taking you in under her shuddering gaze in such precise detail you were sure all the lines and dots connected into the paiting of your face had made themselves a maze under microscope. she searched for something in you, a reaction, you barely even noticed how your breath had hitched until you ran out of air. her hand slowly reached towards your face in what appeared at first to be a cheek caress, before she tugged a leaf from behind your ear, stuck to your hair.

“uh yes! you! hi i’m your neighbor, the flower shop girl” you commented embarrassingly quiet, nodding your head at the leaf and the bouquet as though a flustered explanation.

“hi flower shop girl, i’m ellie”

ellie. you tasted her name on your tongue and melted into the feeling before she took the gift from you, arms extended. the heightened sleeve of her grey t-shirt exposed a beaming sun by her bicep, detailed sad expression in black ink across its center. you took notice of everything. ferns and a moth grew from her hand to the very end of her forearm and covered scars you could only assume to have been self inflicted. a sword pierced through the spare space of skin next to a phoenix and finally angel wings alongside a well hidden initial: J. you wouldn’t ask, but you wanted to.

“welcome to the neighborhood” you finally managed to say “those are daffodils, the flowers for new beginnings so i figured it fit”

“they’re beautiful, thank you” she answered, clearing her throat in uncertainty “anyways i have a tattoo appointment to get to in a couple of minutes, but it was nice meeting you”

“oh! yeah! of course! nice meeting you too, ellie”

you planned out your next meeting in your head, showing up with cookies as they do in the movies, catching glimpses of her sketches on the wall, giving them backstories to fill the gaps. it wasn’t so strange to be eager as you were taking into consideration how rare these opportunities had presented themselves: you never left jackson, not even on vacation. the world was meant to turn on its axis but you were destined to stay still, an agoraphobia rooted into your veins like movement would burst your chest open, bloody and broken. the flowers had been a therapist’s idea: to take care of something innocent as a purpose, exist outside the shell of a body you painfully cared for in pure obligation. your personal garden arsenal though, had meaning. yellow tulips, that’s what you were. the flower for unrequited love. the one tattooed by ellie’s hipbone you were yet to see.

too busy watching ellie walk away you barely caught abby’s gaze from the corner of your eye, her patrolling uniform perfectly neat and spotless in the same way she pretended to be, you too enthralled in the newcomer to watch her jaw clench. the return to your shop was hasty, the same daily people in line for a new centrepiece bouquet until the pleasantries and weather talk went quiet, jackson preparing itself for early slumber with the sunset.

🪷 ʾ ⠀

you were about to head up to your apartment when she opened the glass door, bells echoing out throughout the store “we’re closed” you called out, not turning around from your position rearranging pots until the heavy breathing made itself known to you, not following any steps towards the exit, the anxiety suddenly sending you shivers before your eyes could meet the entryway and harden at abby.

“we have to stop meeting like this-“

“shut up” she stopped you bluntly, in a stride finding her way towards your body and pressing it against the counter with her hips and grabbing your neck in a chokehold before rushing her lips against yours in a breathless sloppy kiss.

[littlestsnicket]

i just finished watching hannibal. i liked it. but i feel like i mostly want to complain about it (but i can’t put my finger on what i want to complain about). and read very specific fic that i don’t know how to explain to be able to find. and i sort of want to write fic cause that’s the only way i think i can express my thoughts about this but i don’t think i care enough to put in the effort. 

the end where they fall of the cliff is definitely a sherlock holmes reference, right?

i think my favorite bits of season 3 were the ones where will is talking to gillian anderson’s character (i’m not learning that character’s name, i refuse). they are dark as fuck, and i think they both know that about each other, and sort of (but also not at all) respect that about each other. and they both, on some level, sincerely like hannibal, and sort of resent that about each other. they both know that they are trapped. 

(i am mad about the very last scene. i knew that was going to happen, and it probably ought to have, narratively, but i’m still mad.)

i want alana to live and raise her verger baby and continue to wear sexy suits and have sexy sex with margot. i want hannibal to leave her alone. but she won’t leave hannibal alone so it seems unfair to ask that of him. i want alana to see will for who he is. she needs to before she can move on with her life. she probably won’t get the chance anyway. 

i found a lot of the stuff that was not people talking to hannibal to be kind of boring. reba had a lot going for her, but that whole thing started to feel unnecessarily drawn out and repetitive to me. there just wasn’t that many episodes of story there. the show worked better when the episodes tied up a plot. although it did create they feeling that there are a truly unreasonable number of serial killers out there. 

i very much appreciated that very little of the violence was against women for being women. the serial killers were very clearly not gender specific in their killing. and approximately none of it was motivated by sex. it probably means something that multiple killers killed whole families. that seems thematically important in a fairly obvious way, but there are probably also non-obvious interesting things to say about it. 

i would have liked to see a lot more abigal. the flashbacks with her and hannibal were fascinating. i’m curious to know who she would have become. 

i hate chilton, but i want him to make a full recovery. it feels like that would almost be more cruel. 

i keep thinking about the way will turned that person into art in the basement of hannibal’s childhood home. he did that for himself; no one important will ever see it.

[twopaperairplanesflying13]

Happy birthday Abigal Anderson💞 Thank you for sharing your incredible memories to taylor swift throughout the years💕 #BFF #ChildhoodBestFriend

[loveistswift]

In honor of Abigail getting engaged here's Taylor singing fifteen to her!!!!

[teylors]

                                       “A million times, yes!! 💍”

                      Congratulations on being engaged @abiander !!

[tswiftdaily]

mattthephotographer: #1989 @abigail_lauren taylorswift

[in-the--afterglow]

HAPPY 25TH BIRTHDAY ABIGAL!!!!!

HOPE YOU HAVE THE BEST BIRTHDAY EVER abiander :D ❤🎉🎂🎁❤

[swiftsecrets]

[buffylives]

Taylor has arrived at the CMAs!

She's wearing a gold and red dress and she's with Abigail.

[jonathantaylorthomas]