#aviator!abby anderson

[flor4de4amor]

thinking about how when aviator!abby gets home from base she asks you to unbraid her hair and play with it

Aviator!abby brainrot

so i got a bit ahead of myself writing for this... n changed the prompt a little to washing avi!abby's hair cause i love her + my love language is acts of service.

just a reminder for everyone reading, these aviator!abby writings are the last of the au as i'm clearing out drafts plz enjoy!

click for palestine | boycott tlou | read b4 engaging w me

warnings: casual nudity, abby's an annoying freak - per the usual.

abby’s hair is a tousled mess. she most likely undid her braid in the privacy of your shared garage, once parked after her long work day. her face is tense and you can see her body is rigid. it’s been a long day for her. she’s pressing your face with wet kisses, slaughtering your face with appreciation in the front doorway. “hi baby,” you mumble into her neck.

“hello,” she whispers back to you. exhaustion is evident in her voice. you know exactly what she needs.

running your fingers through her messy hair she groans, “want me to wash your hair up?” you offer while twirling your fingers around her soft wavy ends, a result of her tight braid.

“mm,” she groans back appreciatively, which you take for a yes. 

“you’re lucky i speak your secret little language of grunts,” you tell her softly. she pinches your backside in retaliation. you groan and laugh all at once. “be nice to me or else i’m not gonna run your bath,” you threaten without meaning. 

“sorry,” she mutters into your neck. her weight is heavy on top of your body as she clings to your flesh. her hands come underneath your sleep shirt, running up and down your spine. her way of apologizing silently. you separate, and abby sprawls out on the couch while you run the bath for her.

she sneaks up on you silently. while you’re bent over, vunerably, sticking your index finger in the running water, checking how hot it is. she snaps her hips into yours while your knees are dug into the bathroom tile. she pretends to fuck you mercilessly, and soft giggles escape her mouth.

you gasp at her actions, “abigail!” you laugh. “here i am rushing to take care of you, and you molest me.” you tease. your neck craning to look back at her.  

her face is red with excitement and a smile prominent on her lips. she shrugs her shoulders, “couldn’t help myself, your ass is so cute,” her hand reaches down to pinch your left cheek, as your underwear peeks out from underneath your sleep shirt.  you jump upright, laughing at her actions. 

“you’re agitating me,” you sigh though your smile is peering through your lips. you turn around to face her, a playful glare rest on your face. all a facade, it’s near impossible to stay mad with abby.

“sorry,” she mutters again, her hands touching the back of your neck. her thumb rubbing slow circles on the base of your skull with care. you know she’s not really sorry.

“all these sorry, sorry, sorries, full of shit.” you sigh as her warm hands comfort your neck. “just take your clothes off and get in the bath babe,” you command gently.

“kinky,” she mutters with a sly smile.

“abigail,” you roll your eyes at her, taking your time to unbutton her uniform top, as she stalls. her hands reach to undo her khakis, the checkered print of her boy shorts poking through the undone zipper. 

“mrs. anderson,” she replies with that stupid voice of hers. she’s down to her sports bra, which she quickly discards, and her boy shorts, which she’s more than happy to rip off. her toned body on display alongside her messy hair, you can’t help but take a minute to admire her and her confidence.

“into the bath please,” you command of her once more. she slides in, with ease.

“you’re so bossy today.” you smile and scoff. her legs soak in the water and her lean back is pressed against the cold ceramic of the tub, facing you. her blonde waves covering her shoulder blades.

“you complain too much, remember who’s gonna take care of you when you get old.” you remark, and grab the shower cup from the edge of the tub. 

“can’t help myself babe,” she muses with her eyes closed in relaxation.

 you fill the cup up with the running faucet water, “pass me the shampoo abby,” you tell her while sitting the cup next to you. you sit on top of a step stool, matching your squatting heigh to abby’s sitting height, which still carries a few inches over you. she opens her eyes and hands you the mint scented shampoo. you crack open the plastic container, squirt some into your hands, and place the soap unto your wife’s scalp. she sighs at the cooling sensation, but moans in satisfaction once you begin scrubbing her scalp. your nails scratching away any impurities that lay on her pretty little head, suds building on top of her blonde hair. you rinse the soap out with the plastic cup besides you, brushing her long locks when finished. “pass me the conditioner now, yeah?”

she obliges, passing the container. “thank you, love.” she turns head around, kissing you softly.

“well someone’s gotta take care of you yeah?” you smile against her lips.

“and i’m glad it’s you,” she kisses you once more.

you lather the conditioner in her long hair, sloppily braiding it so it gets out of her way. “rise off, yeah?” you urge her, knowing that she likes to shower without help.

you groan getting up from the stool, watching as she lifts the lever, turning the shower on, wincing slightly as the hot water hits her chest. you sit on the lidded toilet, observing while she scrubs herself with pine soap. she always smells like a christmas tree. she nods at you once finished, “come rinse my hair out please?” she practically begs. 

“you’re just a spoiled little princess,” you smile at her freckled face and blue eyes. but you oblige, getting up anyway. 

“you’ve made me this way,” abby replies and sits back down once more. you scoff and use the cup to wash the conditioner off her hair. brushing out the soft lather with your fingers delicately. once you’ve finished up, your wife steps out the shower, and you wrap a towel around her. water dripping from her hairline to her forehead. “you gonna braid my hair for work tomorrow?” abby asks, throwing in some puppy dog eyes. 

you sigh, “i can’t say no when you ask like that.”

abby pumps her fist in victory, “love you so much baby.” she kisses your cheeks relentlessly. 

“shut up anderson, you’re getting me all wet,” she almost cuts you off to make a dirty joke before you click your tongue at her, silencing her quickly. “go get dressed so i can pamper you some more.”

“sure thing baby.” she paddles out the bathroom and rushes into your bedroom, eager for more of your caring touch.

[vampireadamooc]

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[flor4de4amor]

𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐮𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞!

you’re abby’s favorite bartender at her favorite dive bar. she doesn’t take to kindly to people disrespecting her best girl.

warnings: alcohol is mentioned + slight violence

click for palestine! read before engaging with my acc+work

Abby is a regular at your bar. Well, regular is a kind way to put it. At this point, she lives in the dive bar. She’s head over heels for you but has decided obnoxious flirting every happy hour, and a sliver of your attention will suffice. 

Her routine is simple:

Order a beer. From her favorite bartender of course. If anyone offers to serve her it’s deny, deny, deny. She can only accept alcoholic content from her best girl.

Shoot some darts, play some pool, chugging contest. Blah, blah, blah. It’s only fun if she sees you sneaking glances from your station, shooting you a wink while she engages with her team. She likes seeing how flustered she can get you with a thin-lipped smile and wink alone. And the answer is very flustered.

Once she’s seen you steal enough glances, it’s time to go back to the bar and bother you. Sure, order another drink. But, also, flirt with the gorgeous girl serving her. Is that a new shirt? Your hair looks so pretty tonight. She loves the necklace you’re wearing, situated real well between your tits. 

Then stay on the barstool, all night, up until she’s one of the last patrons in the bar. Even though,  she’s gotta be up running drills quite soon after your shift ends. But it’s worth it. If she can make you laugh at least once.

Every time. Without fail. That’s Abby’s routine, and tonight was no different. 

Well, except for the fact that there was some asshole bothering you while you worked. Doesn’t he know that’s her job? Only she can bother you, she’s the only one who does it right. Besides, you looked annoyed while he was talking to you. You never looked annoyed when Abby flirted. Always brushing your fingers on her bicep, giggling as she flexed, giving her a hard time for flinching after a shot. You relished in her attention even. You looked like you wanted to throw up while this guy was talking to you. Abby personally, wants to throw him a punch. Instead, she rolls her eyes and fiddles with the toothpick between her teeth, before calling you over to her. The night’s still early, maybe he’ll back off. She hasn't gotten her slice of your attention yet, so she refuses to let that be cut short. 

“Hey, princess!” She uses a hand motion towards you. Your face lights up as you walk towards her freckled face. You hadn't spoken many words to her all night. It was a relief to see the pilot in her designated stool. 

You throw your towel over your shoulder and place your hands on your hips. “How can I help you, Captain Anderson?” Your tongue pokes between your lips, a coy smile protruding.

Abby rolls her eyes. “I hate when you call me that.” She sighs playfully, “I only let my favorite bartenders call me Abby y’know.” 

You place your hand over your heart, flinching, “Silly me thinking I was the only one.” 

Abby whistles lowly at you. “None of them are half as pretty as you, baby.” She watches as you turn your head to the side shyly. She’s already got you flustered and the night’s just begun. She hasn’t even started throwing darts and flexing muscles with her squad yet.

It’s your turn to roll your eyes now. “Promise?” you flirt shamelessly, curious as to what she’ll say.

“Scout’s honor princess,” she kisses three of her fingers and holds them up.

You laugh at her actions. Only Abby can have you laughing at work. In a sticky bar, tight shirt, and light hangover still cascading over you. “Okay, Abby,” You say her name sickeningly sweet. She almost bends over to her knees. “What can I get you tonight?” She smiles, tapping the paper coaster on the countertop, pretending to think. “I’m gonna go with the usual tonight babe.”

You smile, “Boring but expected.” You go to grab a glass and fill it up with ice as a deep baritone fills your ears. “Princess,” the man calls. This new customer was evidently, not privy to the unspoken rules of the bar. He winks at Abby expecting some comradery from a nickname alone. As if friendships are built off disrespecting women. 

You cringe at the nickname and don’t reply. Your legs only move to that call when it’s your favorite captain calling you.

“Oh c’mon don’t be that way.” The man continues. “What? You want a different nickname?” Abby’s jaw is clenched so tightly, that she's sure her molars have cracked. She’s clenching her fist to the point that the white of her knuckles is apparent. 

“She doesn’t respond to that,” Abby replies to the asshole. “She’s got a name.” This man is new sure, but definitely an idiot. He’s choosing to continue squaring off with the Abby Anderson. You know better. You wouldn't disrespect her even with all the alcohol in the world flooding your system. You’ve seen her in a bar fight. She’s never lost.  

“What is this your girlfriend?” He laughs drunkenly. “I mean I’m into that sort of thing,” he snorts to himself. “Why don’t you give us all a little kiss?” He continues chuckling like he’s some world-class comedian. Though, Abby doesn’t seem to find him funny. 

She runs her hand over her face. She looks at you for a moment. “Princess,” she leans in whispering, “How many bar fights in me until you said I was banned?”

You lean closer to her, whispering back, “I don’t think I’m allowed to ban the champ.” Smiling cheekily at her. She winks and clicks her tongue. That’s all she needs as reassurance to kick this guy’s ass.

She gets up from the stool, walking closer to him. Though Abby oozes dominance, when she’s standing over you it’s hard not to shit your pants. She places her hands square atop this guy’s shoulders. “I’m gonna give you just one chance to apologize to my pretty girl or else you’re gonna be banned.” 

The man brandishes off a drunk grin that’s missing two front teeth. “Ban? Me? Ban me? Nah.”

Abby rolls her eyes, “So that’s a no?” She doesn’t even give the guy a chance to answer before punching him straight in the jaw. “See someone else has had the common sense to knock two teeth from that ugly mug of yours, what’s a few more?” She mutters to herself.  There’s slight commotion, but it dies down quickly with the rest of Abby’s aviator squad coming quickly behind her. Beers still in hand, foam coating a few mustaches they ask her what happened. She wrings out her hand, “Go take his picture for the wall of shame and dump him outside.” She huffs, watching her lieutenants follow her orders.

Abby comes to sit by you in her same old worn-down barstool. She smiles as you give her a bag of ice for her hand. “What number fight is that?” You ask her softly and playfully.

“For you or in this bar?” She’s got that look in her eye, nothing but trouble.

You roll your eyes, “Don’t answer a question with a question.” You being to make the drink you never got to give the dirty blonde.

“You’re bossy tonight,” she muses, accepting the drink once you hand it to her, chugging quickly. “Fighting makes me thirsty she muses.”

You repress a smile, crossing your arms over your chest. “So Captain,” you drag out the tightly slightly. Watching as Abby raises her eyebrow at you.

“Princess,” she replies with an edge to her voice. 

“When’re you gonna bite the bullet and ask me out? Hasn’t total endless flirting with me gotten boring?” You lean against the bar top, cleavage spilling from your low-cut top. 

“How about now?” Abby works hard to make sure her eyes don’t come to your spillage. She works overtime in doing so even. It’s torturous.

You hum, “Beating up drinkies doesn’t count as a date you know?” You smile at her, propping your face against your hand.

“Our first date wouldn’t be here,” she smiles toothily. “If that’s the case, we’ve had plenty of dates while I sat in this barstool. We’re married even.” She grins at you.

Your tongue licks your lips, “Moving fast, aren’t you? Focus on the first date, Anderson.”

“Yeah get used to saying that last name, ‘cause it’ll be yours,” she clicks her tongue and winks at you. “How about I come to grab you this weekend? A nice dinner, me you, and no drunks up your ass.” 

“Does this mean I’ll finally be seeing you out of that old navy uniform Anderson?” Your smile captivates your face as you tease her. Only you would make fun of her while she’s trying to ask you out.

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t go home on the first date.” She teases, laughing softly, ‘cause it’s far from true.

“Liar,” you call her out on her shit, carefully grasping the glinting dog tags that lay around her neck. You pull her in for a kiss, for a moment there’s cheering. You know it’s from her rowdy lieutenants. You smile against her lips and pull away. “I’ll see you this weekend?” You say looking at her loved face.

“Sure thing princess.” She’s stunned. “You know what? Put a round on my tab, for celebration.” She reaffirms.

“No doubt captain,” you smile mocking a salute.

divider by @aqualogia

[flor4de4amor]

aviator!abby you say…👀

i did say aviator!abby… screamed it from the rooftops even 🤭 she stays heavvyyy on my mind.

click for palestine!

read before engaging with my works and acc

warnings: slight nsfw/smut at the end.

aviator!abby who has a deep-rooted one-sided rivalry w ellie, who literallyyyyy just wants to be her friend. she comes home and grumbles in your arms about her. "she's just so annoying baby!" she whines for the hundredth time about her coworker.

aviator!abby who's a dog person, but puts up with your evil cat just cause she loves you.

 aviator!abby who can do more pushups than anyone on her squad. three fingers. two fingers. one finger even. she’s got them outranked without a doubt. 

aviator!abby who always comes home exhausted. heart heavy, hands dirty, boots half unlaced by the time she’s in the door. she's eager to lay in bed with you.

you greet her at the door. she always kisses your temple first, slides to your warm cheeks, and kisses you softly on the lips. you know she’s had a long day.

“cooked your favorite,” you muse softly against the side of her mouth.

“how do you know me so well mrs.anderson?” she grins, dominant hand coming up to the nape of your neck.

you shrug, giggling against her chest, “years of practice maybe.”

“yeah, my baby’s the real mvp.” she smiles into another kiss.

aviator!abby who always has her hair in the most ridiculously tight braids and buns. she’s quite creative with her hair, and is always eager to try a new style on you for practice. but, her craft works against her towards the end of a long shift. deep migraine settling in her skull, and she knows it’s not gonna feel better until she’s sprawled in your lap while you undo her hair. your fingertips scratching at her scalp while she sighs and mewls at your lighthearted touch.

aviator!abby who’s totally obsessed with you. she's has got pictures of you in: her wallet, dashboard, phone case, on her locker mirror, even has her phone wallpaper. she’s got your kiss print on her helmet. made sure it stuck with some clear tape and lots of loving. 

aviator!abby who’s somewhat quiet, but incredibly cocky. forget cocky, she’s so competitive. a calm game of monopoly between the two of you turns into to her cackling as she bulldozes you into debt. you roll your eyes at her antics cause it’s literally just monopoly, with her wife, but she treats it like war. 

aviator!abby who loves taking care of her little wife. goes absolutely out of her way to make your life easier. problem with the car? actually, the oil hadn’t been changed in like forever and a half. don’t worry though, abby’s fixed it! you want a new dresser built? abby’s done it in half an hour. she made sure you timed her for proof. someone’s giving you a hard time? yeah, don’t let abs find out she’s gonna rip them a fucking new one. you call her an american bully like the dog breed, for how she’s always by your side. going out of her way to be overprotective.

aviator!abby who’s insecure. she’s in a male dominated field, constantly undervalued, and disregarded. she’s built up a thick layer of protection and ego to protect herself. she spends all day being: mean captain abigail anderson who chews out her inferiors and can kill with looks alone. but when she comes home, all the sudden it’s like a flip switch. it’s “pretty abby,” “baby,” “darling don’t trip on the cat toys on the stairs!” “come to bed i’m tired,” abby. 

aviator!abby who likes being in control during sex. she likes how each action pulls out a very needy reaction from you. if she pulls on your nipples with her calloused finger pads, you’ll whine and arch your back into her chest, as her bicep curls around your waist. if she presses kisses into your neck, and sucks on the skin leaving bruises, she knows it’ll make you cry her name. your nails finding their way to her shoulder blades while she tortures your neck, littering it with love marks. abby knows, that if she hits that sweet spot deep in you w her strap, you almost always cum. sweet cream coating the silicone right around the base, abby can’t help but lick her lips as she pulls out of you, eliciting a string of cursed complaints. she’d suck the member off to taste you herself. but it’s more exciting to pull you to your knees and tap your eager tongue with her tip, groaning as you swallow yourself. not because it feels good, but god you’re so pretty. 

aviator!abby who loves praise so bad. she gets so wet when you call her pretty. she’ll rut against your palm as you whisper in her ear. telling her that she’s your only girl. that you want her. no, you need her. she melts at the way you kiss her biceps, bite her bottom lip gently, and look up at her with big doe eyes when you eat her out. she tries extra hard to be gentle with you. you’re her princess, she doesn’t wanna hurt you. but she can’t help herself when her hips rut into your tongue and her hands come to grip the base of your neck and the roots of your hair roughly. but she can’t help and darkly chuckle as you moan into her mound at the action. “my baby’s a dirty girl huh?” when you don’t reply she tugs your hair again, smirking as you lick feverishly at her clit. she removes her hand from the back of your neck and taps her pointer and middle finger against your cheek, “don’t you remember the rules babe? speak when spoken to. thought you were a good girl?” when you attempt to pull off her, she clicks her tongue snd uses her hold on your hair to keep you in place. “god you’re so bratty today.” she smiles to herself. 

sigh, aviator!abby please i need you. need you so so so so bad. 

im so stuck on what her callsign would be, what do yall think?

divider by: @ohdearlucifer

[flor4de4amor]

God I will never stop thinking about aviator!abby

AVIATOR!ABBY BRAINOT

AVIATOR!ABBY PLEASE AVIATOR!ABBY PLEASE PLEASE

Oh.my.god

Need her

how did you get in my head and hear my thoughts…that’s literally my brain during class, commute, brushing my teeth, doing my hair. i’m literally still sooo stuck on what her call sign would be. but that’s like beside the point, i gnaw on the bars of my enclosure when i think of her!!

sigh, thinking about the way she almost always speeds home so she can go see her pretty wife and litter her with kisses. also, she literally no lie, built everything in your house. shelves, tables, bookcases, your alaskan king bed frame. plz also thinking abt how she always spoils her girl. going out of her way to stop at the bakery, getting your favourite treats. buying you coffee when she’s pissed you off for leaving to work without a kiss goodbye. getting you some clothes you mentioned off handedly like 3 months ago.

sigh, aviator!abby

[flor4de4amor]

is this not the aviator!abby x bartender!reader theme song? cuz… i swear…

[flor4de4amor]

may we please PLEASE PLEASE please get more aviator!abby???? she’s so yummy & i need her so bad..

welll if you wannttttt ofcccc!! this is totallyyy not based off of today’s events. if only i had abby around </3

click for palestine | don’t buy tlou | read b4 engaging

the toilet is broken and it's been ruining your fucking day. the stupid handle is too loose and you're determined to fix it yourself. it's far too embarrassing to ask the other wives on base to use their toilet. word spreads far too fast. everyone's gonna think abby doesn't care for you. and that is far from true! she cares about you so much, you think you're gonna suffocate in her love.

which is part of the reason you wanna fix this stupid waste of space in your bathroom. abby takes care of you everyday, and she works hard and long all day. it wouldn't be fair for her to come home to a broken toilet. (sometimes she sits there doing buisness, while playing wordle, and keeping conversation with you as you shower. you'd hate to break routine.) but you've been knelt over twisting screws, fiddling with pliers, and banging your head against the wall for the past few hours. for a matter of fact, youtube is not helpful! in fact, when abby gets home, you're informing her of a the anderson housewide youtube ban. stupid fucking site. waste of space on the web. killed away at your day with useless hacks anyway.

you're so caught up on cursing at the tablet, your cat pawing at your toes, the stupid fucking toilet, and don't forget swearing the wind, that you don't hear abby's heavy footsteps. you normally greet her at the door with plenty of love. whenever you're not waiting for her, it normally means trouble. means that she better make your stiff couch, real comfortable tonight. and no, she cannot steal any souvenirs from your normally shared bed. she must make do with some throw pillows and a teensy tiny blanket.

you think that you've almost got the issue sorted out when she catches you redhanded. her arms snake around your waist from behind causing you to drop your tools and squeal. your cat screeching at the commotion. abby clicks her tongue at the grey streaked animal. bane of her existence. you thrash in her arms for a minute, until she kisses your cheeks and you're able to inhale her scent. "relax pretty, it's just me."

you huff, and turn around facing her sweet face. "you're an asshole." you don't mean it. but, she's just made you almost shit your pants while your toilet is totally broken. fair reaction, if you may say so yourself.

"you don't mean that," she smiles. her thumb goes to wipe sweat off your forehead. "what's going on here that you're wielding serious machinery?" she eyes the discarded plier and screwdriver.

you slide up to the sink, settling your spine against the cool faucet. your cat following in suite, jumping up into your lap, effortlessly. you coax, him, in your laps, scratching behind his ears, while speaking to your wife. "toilet's fucking broken." you groan, "i've spent all day trying to fix it." abby eyes the loud video playing in the counter of the bathroom corner. she goes to shut off the tablet, sensing your agitation.

"why didn't you call me? or a plumber?" her hands rub your thighs gently, trying to soothe you.

"despite what the haters say," you laugh softly to yourself, "i can do things."

she looks you up and down with a look of doubt in her eye, "i know you can." she plants a sweet kiss on your lips to reassure you before planting the real stuff. she pulls away stroking your cheek, "just not this type of stuff."

you roll your eyes and scoff. "ok well, a girl can try."

she smiles, "yeah lets, not anymore." she smiles and leans away slightly, eyeing the damage you've done to the commode. you pinch her bicep for her sly comment. she grunt in a pained response. her hands grip your wrist, not too tight, she'd never hurt you. "listen here girly," she threatens emptily, before releasing your wrist. her fingers tickle at your sides with carefree joy.

"is it fixable?" you ask. you feel awful.

that cocky smile of hers finds its way to her dopey face. "for the average joe? meh," she shrugs her shoulders. "for me?" she boasts, "definitely fixable, pretty. don't worry." she plants another kiss on you. when she pulls away, abby wipes her hands on the sides of her uniform khakis. she kneels to the base of the toilet, and assess the damage closer. "i think i found the problem baby."

"what is it?" you stroke the feline in your lap.

"you've been using all the wrong tools hon," she remarks offhanded while digging around blindly for her toolbar that's got her initials monogrammed onto the front.

"you're a tool," you say under your breathe.

"heard that!" abby says from down below. she chuckles softly, but doesn't let you hear.

"love you baby!" you reply back, a smile fixed to your lips.

"suck it, anderson," she grunts back while tightening a bolt or something. whatever the hell she was doing down there.

"maybe later," you laugh sweetly.

"sounds good to me," abby replies rather quick.

"shut up and fix the toilet anderson!" you say in a fit of giggles.

"yes ma'am," your cornball of a wife replies, while making a complicated task look easy. she's impossible to hate, and so easy to love.