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kasagia · 9 months

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Losing your memory

Pairing: Young! Coriolanus Snow x fem!Capitol! reader Summary: He used to be your Coryo. Now he has become the man you don't know. The Plinth heir. The future president of Panem. You pray every day to forget about the sweet boy you fell in love with, on whom you could always count. To forget who he was and lose the memory of the past. Just like he did. Well... not exactly. Unfortunately for you, he still wants to remember you. Inspired by: "Losing your memory" by Ryan Star Word count: 7,2 k ~•♤♤♤•~ Coriolanus Snow's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~

You've been avoiding him ever since you found out he was back in the Capitol.

A month ago, this news would have aroused great joy and ecstasy in you. Your Coryo is back home. He managed to shorten his exile and gain Dr. Gaul's favour again.

But the man who returned from District 12 was not your dear friend or lover. This wasn't your sweet Coryo, with whom you walked hand in hand to school. This wasn't the boy you shared your lunch with. This wasn't a boy who cared about your well-being above his own. This wasn't a boy who joked about snobbish children spoiled by the richest people in Panem with you and Sejanus at the end of the day. (Although he talked with them, trying to keep up good appearances—he used to call that one of the responsibilities of being Snow.)

The man who came back was Coriolanus. The new Plinth heir. The shell of someone you knew. The ruthless, cold pet of the mad creator of the Hunger Games you despised.

Sejanus' death didn't hurt you as much as the transformation of Coriolanus from the person closest to you into someone you barely even recognized. And from the tearful, sad, resentful, and disappointed stories you heard from Tigris, you had an accurate picture of the man who took your Coryo's place.

And you hated him with all your heart.

Especially after what he promised you when you stayed at his apartment for one snowy winter night.

You lay wrapped in the various blankets and quilts Coryo and Tigris could find. It was winter, and they didn't have much money for additional heating, so they mostly walked around the house in several layers and slept under piles of clothes.

You didn't know about that that night.

Tigris lent him her quilt so that he wouldn't have to be ashamed of the poverty his family had fallen into since you were supposed to come to sleepover with him after the argument with your parents.

Cuddling up to your blonde boy, you tried to fall asleep, listening to his heartbeat. You frowned at the sound of it being a little faster than usual.

You lift your head and look at him carefully. His gaze is distant and thoughtful as he lazily draws patterns on your back as he presses you against his chest.

"Coryo?" you whisper, cupping his cheek in your hand tenderly and forcing those blue irises you have loved so much to look at you. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

He sighs long and presses a kiss on your forehead, the tip of his nose stroking your hair, as he is inhaling your scent. "I just... I just think about the fact that you deserve so much more. My grandma and Tigirs deserve much more than... this." he says with disgusting pointing at the room you were in.

"This..." you say, clasping your hands together and pressing a tender kiss to the back of his hand. "Is more than enough. You are all I need. And one day, when you are President of Panem or any other important figure in the Capitol, none of you will lack anything. This is a temporary state. You are too smart to be anything less than great, Coryo. You know it."

You see him hold back tears. He pushed your head onto his chest to rest his chin on your head. He is not crying. He almost never cries. But you know how close he is to it by the slight quiver in his breathing.

"I know I don't show it often enough... but you mean... everything to me. I can't imagine how I would go through these all without you by my side."

"I love you, Corio. Just promise me you won't forget this. What you went through, what you experienced. Don't forget your struggle. That's something you should never be ashamed of." he tenses at your words but leans in to kiss you passionately and hungrily. Putting all his unexpressed emotions into action and into that kiss that warmed you more than any blanket or radiator could ever.

"I promise. I will never forget how you kept me sane. When you were the only shelter I could go to and the only support that could bear the boundlessness of my troubles and doubts. How you were my only moonlight in the worst of my darknesses." you laugh softly, recognising part of his words.

"Quoting poets will get you nowhere, Coriolanus Snow." you say teasingly, rubbing your nose against him, at which he chuckles, licking his lips.

"Well... I've learned that in some situations, it gets me somewhere. And it's a very cold night tonight, don't you think? I can't let you freeze to death." he says as his hands go under your shirt—actually, his shirt that you stole from his closet.

"Well… I guess there's nothing left for me… but to place myself under your solicitous care." you sigh softly as he pins you underneath him, making sure the cocoon of blankets is still tightly wrapped around the two of you.

"I couldn't have said it better." he whispers and presses his lips against yours, stealing your breath countless times. He pulls away just a little to say against your lips, "You're mine. We belong together. No matter what."

He makes you shiver as you eagerly agree to everything he says. You don't realise how, in the future, you will curse every single intimate, sweet moment you shared with him.

Ironically, you realise how deep he has gotten under your skin the moment he returns to the Capitol, and you have to avoid him, not when he is sent into exile.

It was probably because when he was gone, you were too distraught to bother leaving your room, opening the blinds, or wiping the tears that somehow kept leaking from your eyes to notice how almost every place reminded you of him. If you could, you'd go back in time and tell yourself there's no point in crying over the asshole he's become.

Although maybe you already felt that your Corio was leaving, and it was a way of mourning him?

Anyway, you saw him everywhere. Not Coriolanus. Coryo. He stalked you in the library, the park, the cafe near the academy that you two and Sejanus liked to go to, and of course the Academy itself. Kudos to your parents for not letting him into your house. At least he didn't pollute your room with memories of him.

Involuntarily, you wonder if he also sees you, for example, in every corner of his apartment. Or maybe he renovated it beyond recognition to erase all traces of his past?

You didn't know.

And you didn't want to know.

The information about him that Tigris gave you when you met her at your house when Coriolanus was at the university for classes was sufficient.

Just because it didn't work out with her cousin didn't mean you would abandon your only real friend. And just because things didn't work out with her cousin didn't mean she would stop (more or less subtly) encouraging you to go back to him.

"We talked about you." she says, making adjustments to your dress that she made for your birthday party thrown by your parents. Another one of the unpleasant responsibilities.

"You and your grandma?" you ask, trying to avoid HIM as a topic as much as possible.

"No. Me and Coriolanus." she says, pinning something to your waist—some decorative strip of fabric or something—you're not sure; you're too focused on the window and the bustling city as you are trying to ignore her words. "You know… I think… I think I saw in his eyes… the old Coryo. For a brief moment, but… maybe if you came back to him, he would come back to himself too."

"I'm sorry, Tigris, but I think he went too far on his path to simply go back to who he was. Surely not because of me."

"I understand… I just really miss him." she says it in a soft, broken tone, and your heart breaks at it. You hug her with all your strength, uniting with her pain that you also felt so deeply.

"Me too." you whisper in her ear as she cries into your shoulder.

Tigris was a very strong woman. She always impressed you. You wanted to be as strong as her. But even the toughest had to cry sometimes.

After all, there comes a time when even the snow melts... even if only for a little while.

You held him tightly in your arms as Corio cried into your chest.

His grandmother fell ill. Hard. Without a doctor, she definitely wouldn't be able to get out of this on her own, and they didn't have the money to pay for one, let alone the medicines.

Your boyfriend spent the whole day planning, thinking, and getting any money, but it was not enough even to buy the cheapest antibiotic.

However, you didn't expect that after you found out it all from Tigris and ran to him as fast as you could with the chicken soup prepared by your servants and all your pocket money, he would start crying.

Coriolanus Snow cried like a little baby.

You handed the money and soup to Tigris, who, after feeding up their grandma, quickly ran out with her to the doctor. At that time, you were holding your boyfriend in your arms in the other room, who simply fell apart from his helplessness.

"Shh… it's going to be okay, Coryo. She will live, falsify that stupid hymn and hate me for not being enough for you just as she used to." your attempt to comfort him didn't help. If anything, he only cried more, holding onto you tighter and tighter.

"I should be able to take care of them... I should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around. I'm pathetic and weak. I'm not worthy of being called Snow."

"Hey, my sweet boy, look at me. You are strong. You are the strongest man I know. You are looking after me all the time; you literally give me everything you have, the last piece of your food, to keep me happy, safe, and full when I forget to bring a damn second breakfast from home or don't have time to eat something. You love me, and I love you, and that's how it works. We care about each other. And I have never, ever regretted being with you. Because what we have… is more valuable than anything else in this world. I trust you implicitly, and I will always be by your side. You are not alone with your problems and suffering. Not as long as I am here."

"But for how long will you stay? For how long will you endure with me?" he asks, and after one look at those a little red from crying, beautiful blue iris, you answer without a shadow of hesitation.

"As long as you love me and I can trust you. As long as I breathe. As long as I am in your mind and heart. I am not going anywhere, Coryo. Money can be earned, but what we have... you can't buy it. What I feel for you is more dear to me than any treasure in this world and I will never exchange it for anything else." you promise, stroking his hair tenderly to help him calm down.

You should've then wondered why he doesn't agree with you then. Why doesn't he say that he also feels this way and that he also values you more than money, glory, and honours?

But he blinds you by telling you for the first time that he loves you.

And you cling to him, wiping the tears from his face with your lips and foolishly believing that your love is pure and eternal.

Like a driven snow.

You knew this day would come someday. The day you let your guard down. But you hoped it would take a little longer before you came face-to-face with Coriolanus.

You are completely unprepared for this. You just freeze like a deer in headlights when you see his face at the end of one of the university's corridors as he walks forward, looking for something in his bag. Before you can even think about running away, he looks up, probably feeling watched, and his blue, icy eyes meet yours.

You both stand there transfixed, looking at each other, taking in the changes in your appearance since the last time you saw each other, which was after you broke up with him, when you saw how tenderly he treated Lucy Gray and how comfortable he was around her. And after someone politely informed you that he had kissed her.

"Y/N!" Coriolanus calls out to you and takes a step towards you, but you quickly step back and run through the crowd of people to get away from him. Unfortunately for you, he doesn't give up that easily. He never does. "Y/N! Wait!"

You have no intention of doing so. You run as fast as you can, bumping into several students along the way. You don't even bother apologising; you just run, hoping that Snow will stop being hot on your heels. Which, by the way, was a miserable dream after how fit he was after his training and the time he spent as a peacekeeper.

On the way, you notice a woman's bathroom and immediately run into it. You lock yourself in a cabin, thanking God or whoever is up that you managed to get an empty cabin and hide in it. You hear his quick footsteps and the door opening, followed by the screams of other women in the bathroom. You sigh in relief as you hear him obediently leave the room.

You're not leaving, though. You are not stupid. You know he's waiting at the door for you to come out. You decide to wait here until the end of the break between classes and hope that he will drop the idea of continuing to chase you and talk to you, and he will attend the lecture instead.

As the bathroom begins to empty, you realise that the next lectures must be soon. You stand silently on the toilet seat, listening carefully, waiting for the right moment to emerge from your miserable hiding place.

Just as you are about to reach for the doorknob, the bathroom door opens. You shiver as you hear heavy footsteps echoing off the tiles of the empty bathroom. And you think that you can smell the subtle scent of roses in the air.

"Come on, Y/N. I know you're here. I just want to talk."

Said the snake moments before eating the bird alive.—you think, mentally mocking how gentle he was trying to present himself. As if he could still be your Coryo.

"I have time. I can play hide-and-seek with you, if you want to. After all, you always liked to play this when we were kids. And you always lost."

You roll your eyes, listening carefully to his footsteps. He was opening the first cabin. You were in the middle one—the one a little closer to the door (and him).

"We'll have to talk eventually. You can't avoid me and ignore me, no matter how good you are at it lately. Let's stop this ridiculous, childish behaviour and go talk over coffee and some of your favourite cookies at the cafe near the academy. Just like the good old days. Well, this time all your orders are on me. What do you say?"

You would have snorted if it hadn't immediately revealed your hiding place to him. How dare he invite you to the place where you, he, and Sejanus spent the most time? To the place where your first unofficial date was.

He wanted to manipulate you, to make you believe that your Corio is still there and lives behind the façade of the rich, arrogant asshole he has become. But you knew better. His eyes told you everything you needed to know.

Even without Tigris' help, you realised that he... was a completely different person. He turned into somebody you only used to know in the past.

"Seriously? Still nothing? So you prefer the hard way, then..." he says, opening another cabin. You wait patiently for him to come to yours.

You breathe as quietly as you can, trying not to let him know which cabin you're in. You listen to his slow, measured steps as, with the incredible confidence and calm that is typical of him, he opens each cabin door, moving inexorably towards you.

Your heart quickens, beating madly, when you see his shoes in the whole, under the cabin's door. He reaches for the door handle, and before he can open it, you push the door against him with all your strength.

You hear him curse, taking a few steps back in a daze and holding his nose. You take the opportunity and run to the exit of the bathroom as fast as you can, not looking back.

"Fuck! Y/N! Are you insane?!" he shouts, running after you.

You reach the door just in time and slam it behind you, sprinting out of the university. You get in your car and drive away with your tyres screeching. In the rearview mirror, you see him leaving the building and following your car with a furious glare.

"I can't believe you invited Snow." you huff, fixing your makeup in the mirror. Your father is buttoning his cuffs, and your mother stands next to you, also putting the finishing touches on her appearance. "You hated him when we were together."

"He is an ambitious and clever boy. Plinth did well to make him his heir. You should reconsider whether he really is that bad. This match would have opened many doors for us. Not only among Plinth's allies but also among Dr. Gaul. God knows how she favours this boy. Who knows? Maybe one day he will be president of Panem."

"If so, I will run away abroad." you say it bitterly, putting your lipstick back in your purse and adjusting the necklace around your neck to make yourself look perfect.

"Don't be stupid. Snow wouldn't be so bad for you. Since you are our only child, we must marry you well. Make sure your husband doesn't blow our fortune in a week. And Snow is a thoughtful boy. He wouldn't let you live below the poverty line."

"And he's quite handsome." your mother adds, straightening your father's tie. "Still, he's not a womaniser. I heard he turned down the... special attention of Crane's daughter and a few other Capitol's girls. I guess he's been alone since your breakup."

"Hmm. Great. He wouldn't cheat on me with other snobs in the capital, but he would fuck with whores in the district. The perfect candidate for a husband." you scoff, walking with them to the next room, where the photographers were waiting to take a photo of you together.

“Language, Y/N. You are a lady. Besides, it is not certain whether he and this Lucy Gray actually had something between them. After all, she's a woman from the district.” your mom says this, smiling for the cameras.

The flashes blind you a little, but with your father's and mother's hands on your shoulders, you somehow manage to keep your pose, fake, pretty smile, and opened eyes.

Your father thanks them and leads you out of the room and into the corridor leading to the great hall where the ball was to be held.

"And even if he did, it's good that he had some fun. It will make him appreciate the treasure that you are and see that you are irreplaceable." he says, taking the box out of his pocket. He hands it to you with a warm smile. "Happy birthday, my treasure."

"We've already given her..." your father shushes your mother. You send them a confused look as you open the medium-sized box.

You find a tiara there. A small diamond tiara.

"It will match your dress perfectly." your father says proudly. You nod and walk to the mirror to put it on, despising the object in your hands with all your heart. You may look like a princess, but you've never felt so... disgusted with yourself before.

This feeling intensified even more when, after a toast and receiving wishes from several of your friends and more powerful families, you managed to sneak out to the balcony. Not long after you, all the single, young men of the richest family on the Capitol entered, with Coriolanus among them. They each took a cigarette and started smoking, gossiping about the events of the week…

And their topic of conversation was exactly what you were afraid of when you got that fucking tiara.

"Have you seen this? I bet they're pure diamonds. Old Y/L/N wants to marry her off so much that he's using every trick possible."

"He doesn't need to do much. She is beautiful in her own right. But this character… it's easier to train a dog than such a stubborn cow."

"What Snow? Are you now regretting that the Capitol's Diamond slipped from your hands? I heard she wants nothing to do with you. How unfortunate that it happened at the moment when you started to count in the eyes of the elite, and now you really have any chance of grabbing this precious gem for yourself."

The Capitol's Diamond. You shudder, thinking about the nickname you've been given.

That's what they called you. The sole heiress to your parents' fortune. Diamond of the Capitol, the best match in the city, with a dowry greater than any other woman. Anyone who won your hand was guaranteed to reach the top and success with your family's connections, your charm, beauty, and brain. And these vultures knew it perfectly well.

You were curious how the new Coriolanus would react.

Your Coryo only took advantage of your position in society when he had to. He didn't ask you for money or for you to convince your father to whisper a good word about him here and there. Maybe it was because of his pride; maybe he really didn't care. You have no idea. But Coryo despised that term as much as you did. You wondered if that had changed as well.

"I'm still in the game." he replies evasively, sipping his drink. The others laugh and he frowns in displeasure.

"Sure. Because the way she ran away from you today when you approached her with a gift says exactly that." they mock him. You see him clench his jaw, glaring at them coldly as he considers his next move.

"Enjoy it while you can. Your good mood will end when our cat-and-mouse game is over and the Capitol's Diamond hangs proudly on my shoulder." you huff, shaking your head in disbelief. You come out of hiding, and all the men on the balcony tense up and look at you in surprise.

Especially Coriolanus. Suddenly everyone is staring intently at the garden of your estate, too shy to look at you. Except Snow. He drills a hole into you with his gaze as he thinks of a way to undo what he said.

"Gentlemen." you scoff, walking past them and ignoring Coriolanus' glare. "For your information, I would rather live in one of the districts than marry any of you. Enjoy the party." you add sweetly, walking back to the ballroom.

The party is in full swing. You are talking to Thomas, using a sweet boy in a shameful way—to scare other men away from you. Just as you expected, they started flocking to you like flies to a fire.

So you chose the least spoiled of them. Thomas was nice and funny; you had a good time talking to him, and dancing with him was even better.

He wasn't rich; he wasn't part of the cream of society. You were really starting to enjoy spending time with him. And most importantly... he looked nothing like Coriolanus. He was nice for the eyes, but his dark hair, eyes, and sweet, shy personality made him drastically different from your ex. So he was the perfect break from your dramatic love life. Boring, nice change.

You danced to a waltz with him. He held you gently, close but respectful, not invading your personal space. He was a perfect gentleman. The man of your dreams.

If only Coriolanus' icy eyes weren't focused on both of you like a predator waiting for its prey to stumble, you would be able to enjoy Thomas' company to the fullest.

You are with him at the buffet, sipping drinks, when suddenly the last person you expected to meet here approaches you.

"Mrs. Plinth." you whisper in shock as he stands in front of you.

She looks—probably the way she feels. Nice on the outside and devastated on the inside. The dark circles under her eyes cannot be fully covered by makeup, and the deep black of her dress is a clear reminder of what she is still going through.

You can't imagine the pain he's going through right now. And you wonder why the woman decided to join her husband for your birthday party. Since Sejanus' death, she has rarely left their apartment.

"Y/N. Can I steal you from this young man for a moment?"

"Of course." you say, not even looking in Thomas' direction as you and Mrs. Plinth walk to one of the empty living rooms in your mansion. You close the door behind her and point to the couch. "Can I get you something to drink? Or to eat?"

"No. There is no need, darling. I just… I just came here to give you something." she says, pulling a thick letter out of her purse. "I… the letters from Sejanus are still reaching us. The flow of information between the districts and the Capitol is… very heavy and long. Especially when the peacekeepers are now checking every one of his correspondence. He sent it to you. Or rather, he wanted you to send it to him. Or rather, he wanted you to have it, just in case he couldn't… I'm sorry."

Your heart aches with sadness, seeing her on the verge of tears. She probably has no one to talk to about her son except her husband. After all, Sejanus was a traitor of Panem…

"He was a wonderful friend. The best one somebody could have. I could always count on him. Thank you for... taking the trouble to give me a letter from him. That... means a lot." you say, fighting the urge to hug the woman. The Capitol is not famous for acts of tenderness, mercy, or compassion. You had to keep up a facade. Always.

You take the letter from her and walk her to the exit. You give her one sympathetic look—everything you could afford in your position—and close the door behind her.

You sit on the couch and open the letter with trembling hands, trying not to look too closely at the way he wrote your name on the envelope. You know that will remind you of how you taught him how to decorate letters in his first days at the Capitol. Because everything here had to be perfectly beautiful. Even the fucking handwriting.

A bracelet falls out of the envelope and onto your lap. It is not particularly beautiful or sumptuous. It is a simple strap holding a peg-shaped pendant with some black, crushed stone placed behind a piece of glass.

You place it on the coffee table and open the letter with trembling hands. You already feel that after all this you will have to fix your makeup, which you will probably ruin with tears, but Sej's letter cannot wait until the end of the party.

Y/N, If you are somehow reading this letter, it means that I am not at your 20th birthday party, which makes me very sad. (You know how I love celebrating in your garden away from these Capitol's snobs.) Coming back, you know that I wish you all the best (along with Coryo. He's too big of a stick up his ass to write to you, even though he misses you and can't stop thinking about you. Take pity on me and write to this stubborn idiot, because I don't think I can stand another tirade about you and your perfection. Seriously. Our boy is getting mad because of this despair. I don't recognise him at all.) So, my dear friend, I wish you the best. I don't have any trinkets, interesting books, sweets, or anything suitable as a gift here, so I hope you'll be satisfied with what I came up with. I am not a poet, so don't laugh at me. I shall hear... or not. I made the bracelet, which you've probably already seen, myself. And that stone that is inside (and I hope it survived) is coal. I wanted to give this to you as a symbol of who you are to me. Everyone sees you as a diamond, something precious and beautiful. But for me and probably other people close to you, you are something more. This shiny diamond facade hides carbon. A simple coal, an ordinary soul like many others. But you made something more out of that ordinary coal. You are a diamond. Indestructible, the most durable of all. The purest form, preserved among the other gems and stones of the Capitol, because that's what all these power-hungry assholes are—coals that have decided not to change, to choose what is easy for them. I hope now you can see why I liked that nickname for you, diamond. So I hope you always stay true to yourself. No matter what. That's what I learned here, and I want to pass it on to you. Although I hope that by then the three of us will meet again in the Capitol. Do not wait for us both, Sejanus P.S. I miss you too.

You fold the letter and put it back in the envelope. You wipe away the tears that remain on your cheeks with your hands and take a few ragged breaths, trying to calm down.

You freeze when suddenly someone's arms wrap around you. The scent of roses hits your nostrils.

You get up from the couch like you've been burned and push Coriolanus' arms away from you. The feeling of sadness quickly turns to anger and pure fury as you stare at Snow.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you growl through a clenched jaw, extremely glad that there's a couch between you, or you'd hit him. And it was easier for you to explain your tears and smeared makeup than your red knuckles.

"Sweet, kind Plinth, giving you thoughtful gifts from beyond the grave. You love the dead Sejanus so much and ignore the living me. It must be hypocrisy on your part, don't you think? You accuse me of forgetting about Sejanus when you treat me so shamefully, worse than a dog. Should I die so that you can finally stop giving me the silent treatment and running away from me?"

"Believe me, you don't want to hear what I have to say to you." you huff, taking the bracelet and the letter. You hide them in the bodice of your dress and go to the mirror to fix your smudged makeup.

"You do not have to do that. Your boy isn't at the party anymore anyway." he says, standing so that you can see his reflection in the mirror.

"What?" you ask in surprise, turning to face him. You both stare at each other. In fact, you're only now getting a chance to take a good look at him. And you notice with dissatisfaction that the bastard found out from Tigris what your dress would look like, and he chose a suite so that both of you would match. "Where is Thomas?"

"Your little boy toy? Do you think he's enough of a distraction? That he can replace me? That he'll make you feel what I feel? Maby, that he can even protect you from me? Only I know you. I'm the only one worthy of your fucking attention and affection." you push past him, but he grabs your elbow.

"Touch me again and I'll cut off your hand and shove it down your throat." you growl, breaking away from his grip.

"Such aggression… I don't remember you from this side." he mocks you and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You step away from him and cross your arms, staring at him defiantly.

"I will ask you one last time. Where is Thomas?"

"Let's just say that your mother and I caught him stealing your jewelry. We were merciful enough to solve the matter quietly. You will never see that garbage on the ball or any gala again. Certainly not on yours."

"Were you the one who framed him for this?" his silence and the calculating, self-proud look of the cat that caught the canary (or, in this case, the snake that choked the mouse) tell you everything. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" you ask furiously.

You want to move past him, but he pushes you back, making you bump into the wall. He closes the gap between you in one step, pressing his chest against yours.

"You're mine. You've always been. You shouldn't lead this loser on or give him false hopes. We both know we will end up together."

"I broke up with you." you remind him, not caring about his intimidating attitude.

"A mistake I intend to fix." he says, leaning towards you.

His nose brushes against yours, and you shiver. You lift your leg, trying to kick him in the groyne, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees your sudden movement and grabs your thigh in a tight grip. If it weren't for the thick layers of material, he would probably leave bruises.

"You... you have nothing to fix. There is no longer us. I don't even know you anymore, Coriolanus."

"Don't." he growls at you angrily. You can see the desperation and madness in his eyes at the fact that you're using his name and that you wrote off your relationship. "It was always you. You were always mine, Y/N, and I was always your Coryo."

"Things are changing quickly. We are not the same, and now we have nothing in common, nothing to talk about."

"We have EVRYTHING to talk about. I still love.."

"DON'T!" you interrupt him. He freezes. You rarely shout, especially at him. That's why he takes a step back before putting on his impassive mask again. "Don't even say that. You have no idea what love is. Sure, you may feel attached and even desire me at some point, but you have no idea of unconditional, true love. So for old time's sake, leave me alone."

"What about you? Do you think you are so holy and blameless? That I'm the only bad guy? You lied to me. You promised you would stay with me, no matter what."

"I promised it to my Coryo. Not to you, Coriolanus. My Coryo died in District 12 with Sejanus—maybe even in the Hunger Games—when you let Dr. Gaul brainwash you in the name of fame, money, and position. You think that old hag didn't tell me why Sejanus is dead? That I don't know that your songbird has disappeared? That I would believe that Highbottom just got high or drank himself to death?" he clenches his jaw and fists at your words. You can see how furious he is, but he holds back, still controlling himself.

"Everything I did, I did for us. For you. For Tigris and Grandma." you laugh, wondering who he's trying to fool—himself, you, or both of you at the same time.

"No. You're doing it for yourself. Only for yourself, Coriolanus." he gets even more angry and pins you to the wall again. His cool blue eyes are raging with rage, and you try hard to push away the feeling of fear he has stirred in you.

"Do you want a reason to hate me? So you and Tigris can still gossip about my madness? Then maybe I should let this old man pursue her and sell her as a wife to one of them for good money."

"KEEP HER OUT OF IT! It's Tigris, Coriolanus! Tigris! The woman whose sacrifice you owe your entire fucking life to! A woman who went out of her way to give your ungrateful, selfish ass something to wear. Who sacrificed the love of her life in the name of maintaining the façade of Snow's wealth?! You can give a damn about me, Sejan, and even that little songbird of yours, but if you fucking ruin the life of your cousin—the only goddamn person who still cares about you—I promise you, in memory of OUR dead friend, that there won't be a fucking hole where you could hide from me."

You stare daggers at each other, both openly expressing your resentment towards the other. You have no idea why he still cares about you—is it because of your money, position, or some sick fantasy he has in his head, or maybe he actually still cares about you?

You don't think about it when a more important issue arises.

Suddenly, he grabs your face in both hands and pulls you towards him, greedily kissing you as he connects your lips after a very long time of separation. He caresses your lips with his and kisses you with such fervour as if he craves you like a hermit starving for water.

And for a moment, you feel like you were with Coryo, when all that mattered to you was the other one, when you could get lost in each other, forgetting about the rest of the world and the worries that were waiting for you.

And that's exactly what he's doing now. He makes you forget about anything but him.

You can't help but moan into his mouth as he presses his body against yours. When he releases his strong grip on your cheeks to grab you around your waist and press you against his body, his leg is between yours.

He kisses you more hungrily, groaning too at the familiar warmth of your body against him and the feeling of your soft, silky skin pressing against him. The scent of your perfume mixes, creating a perfect combination of roses and your favourite flowers. Your hands automatically go to his hair as you hold on to him and press him to you. You don't like the gel on your hands from his hair, but you ignore this new, irritating feeling by biting his lip.

You don't think at all. As well as Coriolanus. You both just kiss each other, your tongues joining, as you both let your desire for one another take control of the situation.

You only come to your senses when your lips break apart. You gasp, trying to breathe again, as he fucks your exposed collarbones with kisses. Your brain comes back to you as he leaves a hickey on your neck. He bites you, making you moan so needily that a wave of shame washes over you with his tongue, soothing the bite. You push him away from you and place your hand on your chest, trying to regain control over yourself.

"See? We belong together. There is no other way, Y/N. We are all we need."

"Bullshit." you gasp, trying to ignore the possessive, smug feeling blooming in your chest when you see his messy hair and your lipstick smeared on his lips. "Since you are that good in losing your memory, then forget about me too."

"I can't. I just can't. You think I haven't tried? That you don't haunt me every damn step I take? Everything I have and everything I know is saturated with you. With the memory of both of us. I forgot about what I had with that songbird and my friendship with Sejanus, but I simply CAN'T forget about you. I haven't spent a single damn day without thinking about you. NOT EVEN ONE. And I know you felt the same way. Do you know why I didn't kill that stupid boy who was clinging to you? Because I knew it would make you hate me even more. I was alone without you at 12, and you know how it ended. You are my conscience. Without you... there's nothing holding me back. Without you, there is nothing to distinguish me from the Hunger Games tributes. I have no borders, mercy, compassion, or anything that makes people human beings. And Gaul knows it. That's why she told you all of my crimes; that's why you're paranoid now that I'm someone completely different. But it's still me. I. Am. Still. Your. Coryo." he says it firmly, taking a step closer to you with each word.

"Don't turn me into a fucking cricket for your Pinocchio. I am not, and I do not want to be your conscience. I will not take part in your lies, games, and manipulations." you say as you both stare at each other, neither of you wanting to concede to the other in any way.

"I will have you. One way or another, but I will. Even if it is the last thing I do, I will have you by my side. Just where you always belonged. I promised you to be my First Lady. And I intend to keep that promise."

"You must become president first. And believe me, I will do everything in my power to prevent that from happening. Maybe you can't forget about me. But I can. I do not need you. I never needed you. How ironic to be able to lose the memories of everyone except the girl who will be the end of you, isn't it, CORIOLANUS?" you mock him, a smirk on your lips, making him a promise.

You walk past him, and this time he lets you go, knowing full well that he won't do anything more with you today. At least he got his kiss and a little taste of you, a reminder of the reward that awaits him when everything finally falls into place. When he finally has you in his arms and is at the top of Panem—his rightful place.

"The game has just begun!" he shouts after you, staring at you as you head towards the bathroom to touch up your ruined makeup. It gives you satisfaction to think that this bastard will probably have to clean himself up after your little make-out session, too.

You think that maybe Gaul was right about the Hunger Games being the whole world. But the reality was that there could only be ONE winner.

And among the people of the Capitol, only you and Coriolanus had a real chance of winning. It has always been like that. And even lost memories that do not want to go away so easily are proof of this.

Part 2

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wandaslittlebird · 1 month

Text

Far From a Monster

Wanda x Reader

After a particularly intense session, Wanda has some conflicting feelings about what it means to be your dom.

CW: Dom Drop, Blood, Mommy Kink, Guilt, Sexual Shame

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: As someone is who isn’t a dom, I don’t know how accurate a depiction this is of dom drop. This is just what I’ve heard from other people. But I hardly ever see it written about so I wanted to give it a shot.

A/N: I KNOW, I said in the poll it was going to be more stepmom!Wanda next, but that fic is going to take longer than expected. Also in my defense this one was in the lead until almost the very end.

She had you just where she liked you.

You were face down on the bed, a sobbing mess in her hands. You had started on your hands and knees, but had long since collapsed forward. She had her hands drilled into your hips, which was the only thing that kept you up on your knees. She used her grip on you to force you to keep her brutal pace, cruelly dragging you back on to her each time she slammed her hips into you.

“Mommy please! Mommy it’s too much! Please mommy it hurts!” You cried. Your arms were wrapped around a pillow you were pathetically crying into.

“Aww sweetheart,” she cooed with faux sympathy. “You can give me one more, I know you can. Can you do that for mommy?”

You whimpered and squeaked into your pillow, but nodded nonetheless.

She reached down to pet your hair, but inadvertently drove your head further into the pillow. You moaned as her hand gripped your hair. “Oh you like that? Do you like it when mommy hurts you and pulls your hair?”

You nodded, but she pulled harder, pulling you up off the bed a little bit. “Words, princess.”

“Yes mommy! Yes I love it when you hurt me a-and pull my hair!” You cried. “Please mommy, I’m gonna cum again.”

“Is it starting to feel good again, baby? See I told you mommy’s cock wasn’t too big for you. You said it wouldn’t fit, but it’s made you cum, what, three times now?”

“You were right! You were right!” You conceded. “Please let me cum on your cock. Please mommy please.”

“Hmm,” She pretended to consider the request. “Tell mommy about how you're her cockslut and you can cum.”

“Yes mommy, I’m your cockslut. I’m your little toy you can use however you want,” you pleaded. “Fuck I’m gonna cum. Mommy I’m gonna cum for you.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head as you came so hard the strap fell out of you and hit your leg. Wanda smirked, satisfied with herself as you collapsed onto the bed.

Until she looked down.

There was blood.

And not an insignificant amount of it either. She swallowed. It couldn’t have been your period, could it? No you had been on birth control for years and hadn’t had a period since she’d known you. Besides, this was too bright and fresh to be period blood.

“Honey?” She asked, voice shaking slightly. “You don’t have a period anymore do you?”

“Hmm?” You asked, not immediately registering her question in your fuzzy haze. “No. Why?”

You looked down, seeing the blood that covered both your inner thighs and Wanda’s. “Oh. I must’ve torn a little bit. Sorry.”

Her brows knitted in concern. Her heart was racing. It felt like it might beat out of her chest. “I-I’m gonna go get a towel. Stay right here, baby. I’ll be right back.”

You couldn’t tell through your haze how panicked she truly was. You missed the way her voice broke when she spoke. You didn’t see the tears that pricked the corner of her eyes. You didn’t notice the frantic way she scurried into the bathroom. You simply laid on the bed, blissfully nuzzling a pillow.

Wanda closed the bathroom door, taking off the strap and running it under the sink. A cry broke through her lip when she watched the water run red.

How did she not notice you were bleeding? Were you telling her to stop when you said it too much? Did she push you too far? Had you torn at the beginning and just been in pain the whole time? Did you forget your safe word? Fuck did you say the safe word and she just hadn’t heard it? Did she genuinely hurt you? Were you going to be mad at her?

All the worst case scenarios ran through her mind. She felt a monstrous guilt rise up in her chest. She hurt you. She hurt you and she didn’t even realize it.

Why was she like this? Why did she even like to hurt you in the first place? Why did she like it when you cried for her? What kind of monster enjoys hurting the person they love?

“Wanda?” She was pulled from her thoughts by your gentle voice at the bathroom door. “Is everything all right, honey?”

She was bent over the bathroom counter, bracing herself against the granite. Tears were running down her cheeks causing her hair to stick to her face. You took a couple steps towards her, cupping her cheek. She pulled away.

“Wanda, baby, please tell me what’s wrong. Did I do something?” You asked.

Wanda shook her head. “No, love. No you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then what is it?” You asked softly, reaching out for her again.

Her teary green eyes finally met yours. Her bottom lip trembled. “I hurt you,” she admitted softly, in almost a whisper.

You took a sigh of relief. “It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt. It’s just a little tear. I’ll wear a pantyliner, it’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” she cried, “I hurt you! You were bleeding and I didn’t even notice! You were telling me it hurt and I didn’t listen!”

You pulled her into a tight hug, cradling her head into her chest. “Wanda, it's okay. We were just playing, just like we always do. I was having fun. I would’ve used my safe word if I wanted to stop. You did everything right, love.”

Wanda wrapped her arms around your shoulders. “I feel like a monster,” she cried softly.

You rubbed her back, kissing her temple. “You’re not a monster, love. You’re nothing of the sort,” you reassured. “You are so so far from a monster.”

She clutched you harder, pulling you impossibly close. “I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, honey,” you said, taking a moment to rub her back before proposing: “How about we get cleaned up and have a nice soft snuggle night, huh?”

Wanda nodded into your chest. “Is it alright if I take a shower up here and you take one downstairs? I think I just need a minute to myself.”

You pulled her out of the hug, holding her face in your hands. “Of course, honey. Just no more spiraling into thoughts of being a monster, okay?”

She smiled, turning her head to kiss the palm of your hand. “No more spiraling,” she agreed.

You pressed a long kiss to her forehead. “I love you, Wanda. And I think you’re a wonderful person. And I think you did everything perfectly.”

She giggled. “I love you too, darling. Now go take a shower downstairs. I’ll be ready for you when you come back up.”

—————

You finished up your shower, returning to your room in some soft pajamas pants and one of Wanda’s sweatshirts. You limped up the stairs a little awkwardly. The tear hurt a little bit more than you expected after the adrenaline wore off, but it was nothing a Tylenol couldn’t fix.

You walked into Wanda nervously fluffing the pillows in a little nest she’d made for the two of you. She turned around when you opened the door, still looking a little anxious. “Oh, hi I um, I got this for you. And some Tylenol.”

She held out what looked like a pad, but was cold to the touch. “What’s this?”

“It’s just a pad with some chilled witch hazel. It’ll help with tear,” she explained.

You looked down at the pad with a hint of disgust. Pads always made you feel so uncomfortable. But when you looked back up at Wanda’s anxious frown, you simply smiled and said “thank you, love. I’ll put it on now.”

You tucked the cool pad into your underwear. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it felt better almost immediately afterwards. The cooling sensation did wonders for the burning of the tear. Wanda smiled for a moment when you sighed in relief, but quickly went back to nervously playing with her hands. “C-can I ask you something?”

You took her fidgety hands into your own. “Of course love, anything.”

She tilted her head up to briefly look you in the eyes. “Do you think you could call me mommy for tonight?” She asked. The words came fast and jumbled, like she had to force them out of her mouth before she changed her mind. “I mean I know we only use it while we’re playing and I’m being rough with you and that’s fine if you just want to stick to that and you’re under no obligation to say yes or anything I just thought that maybe I could be mommy and be sweet and take care of you just so it’s clear that I still love you when I’m mommy and I’d never do anything to try to hurt you on purpose even though mommy Wanda seems super cruel and sadistic…”

You interrupted her nervous rambling with kisses to each of her knuckles. “Of course, mommy.”

She stopped speaking for a moment, looking at you with all the love a gaze could possibly hold. She looked like she might cry again, but she simply reached up and touched your cheek. You melted easily into her touch and it made her heart sing.

She loved you, and you knew she loved you. You didn’t flinch or shy away from her. You didn’t wince like she was going to hit you. You trusted her. Even as mommy, she was going to take care of you.

“Okay, my love,” she whispered. “Let’s get you to bed.”

—————

You spent the rest of the night cocooned in a variety of soft blankets. She had you sat between her legs, arms wrapped around your waist while she repeatedly kissed the top of your head.

She had her laptop open on your lap. The two of you giggled over a game of Firegirl and Waterboy. She even let you play as Firegirl even though the Waterboy keys were much harder for her to reach around you. For a kids game, the two of you were doing exceptionally poorly, not even making it past the first few levels before your eyes started to droop and you yawned.

She gently closed the laptop, moving it to the bedside table. “Alright princess, I think it’s about time for bed.”

“We’re already in bed,” you teased through a yawn, curling up on your side into her chest.

“Cheeky girl,” she chuckled, kissing your head and turning off the bedside lamp. She pulled you close, swaddling you against her chest with a blanket.

You rubbed your face into her neck and sleepily mumbled, “I love you, mommy.”

She smiled giddily, glad you couldn’t see her in the dark room. She gently rubbed the back of your head. “Mommy loves you too, princess. Sweet dreams.”

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #mommy wanda #mommy!wanda #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n

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nelle-y · 6 months

Note

I loved your recent Alhaitham fic! I was wondering if you would consider writing a pt. 2 where Alhaitham regrets how he treated you and attempts to win you back (maybe 4ggravate finds out and attempts to help Alhaitham to win you back)? I understand if not. Thank you for sharing your writing!

Thank you so much for liking my first fic! Feel free to request anything genshin-related and I’ll try my best to provide!

You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath (pt. 2)

It was rare, I was there

Here’s part 1!

Synopsis: despite the neglect and everything that happened, you both still longed for each other…

Content: Alhaitham x fem!reader, wingmen!4ggravate, implied Dehyarzad, Collei, absent Cyno, Tighnari, second chances, writer!reader, angst to comfort, reader is with someone else

Warnings: slight cursing, long intro again (I can’t help it), mild spoilers for Sumeru archon quest chapter 3 act 2, Collei goes missing

Note: this part can be optional for you. If you prefer to end it at part one, then feel free to do so! But, if you’re a sucker for second chances (like me), then consider this a treat from me to you!

—

Nothing. You could hear nothing.

Not your heart pounding to the rhythm of your feet. Not the screaming in your head as you spotted familiar grey hair walking around the city. Your thoughts immediately tasted bitter—if he had the time to walk now, how come he hadn’t back then?

You surmise that you weren’t worth the step.

The weight of his absence hung over you like a storm cloud, casting a shadow over the warmth of the day. Despite your efforts to push the pain aside, it crept back, heavy and suffocating. Your mother's words echoed in your mind like a haunting refrain, a reminder that perhaps you had been foolish to invest so much in someone who couldn't reciprocate your love.

The shops were as busy and ever; merchant services, inquiries about products, scholars out in the open. You were out for groceries, almost ashamed for showing your face after the scene you caused 15 days ago. The world needed to know you were strong, though, so you put a big smile on your face and a new perfume worth Alhaitham’s salary. You even reached out to Cyno about the book you mentioned; so far, everything has been accurate, according to him.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice called to you. Turning your head in that direction, you see Dehya in the distance waving at you. Once you’ve said hello, she looked at you with a smirk on her face, “Wow, did a flower barf on you? You look radiant!”

“Radiant?” You humble yourself, “I don’t remember putting on any jewelry.”

“No, silly!” She gestured to your everything, “There’s this aura you’re emitting and it’s making you glow!” Glow? All you did these past few days was cry, eat, and write. Perhaps it was the tears that helped. They irritated your eyes so much it gave you a softer, more approachable look. “Do you think you could lend me some of that eyeshadow?”

Try crying every hour, Dehya. “Ah, I just did a favor for a friend studying cosmetology. I’m not entirely sure what products they used,” you lie. Thinking about Alhaitham will certainly eat you alive; you change the subject despite the flattery you enjoyed. “What brings you to the city?”

Enthusiasm spouts from the mercenary, “My lady Dunyarzad invited me over for the Sabzeruz Festival; and you know me, I gotta be there for my lady!”

You found it adorable—almost enviable—how they still keep in touch even after Dehya’s resignation. Call a spade a spade, that is real commitment. It makes you wonder if you’d be here, ‘radiant’ and ‘glowing,’ if you were treated that way.

“The Sabzeruz Festival? I didn’t realize it was so close. Wow, time surely flies.” Suddenly, you feel excitement rush through your veins, a new experience after days of steady tides.

“Couldn’t agree more,” said Dehya. From a distance, you both heard Dunyarzad call her name. “Ah, it looks like she needs me back there. I better go check on her. If you want, you should totally come over the bazaar once the festival is ready. Dunyarzad and I would be lucky to have you celebrate with us!” After you gave an accepting nod and farewell, Dehya ran off to the woman in purple, practically skipping on her feet.

As you watched their lively interaction, a surge of envy and longing swept through you. Their easy camaraderie and genuine happiness a stark contrast to the emptiness and loneliness gnawing at your insides. You had longed to experience that kind of connection, to be enveloped in the warmth of love and companionship once more. But deep down, you knew it was a distant dream, a fantasy you could never reclaim.

You weren’t a religious person, but out of sheer desperation, you prayed.

Lesser Lord Kusanali, please free me from this torment. Let the flowers in my garden bloom of life, let the fruits grow ripe even without much sun, let the trees reach the highest of buildings.

—

Simple greetings and little nods, Alhaitham wouldn’t have minded if those scholars were you. In fact, instead of returning those nods and hellos, he would embrace you, lift your feet off the ground and spin you around like you always wanted.

After you stormed out the tavern, Cyno went ahead and asked what happened to the both of you. For the first time, he couldn’t give a straight answer. Every excuse seemed to damage your image, and that was the last thing he wanted. Kaveh ended up taking over to save him the embarrassment.

The 15 days he burned for you were like falling into the abyss, fighting every day to the brink of death, unable to eat the sustenance that came from your warmth.

The now Scribe Alhaitham needed something to keep you off his mind. He considered attending a meeting, but none seemed to pique his interest. Every thought ended up on your doorstep, making him think of dropping by. “Kaveh,” he called the architect scribbling on his notebook, “have you seen Y/N, as of late?”

“No, she hasn’t been feeling well these past few weeks. Shouldn’t you be in a meeting?”

“Shouldn’t you be paying rent?”

Kaveh cursed at Alhaitham, “I’m trying to make the money, goddamit!”

“Maybe you would have the money if you stopped settling for your clients’ low budgets.”

“Is it hard to find me considerate?”

“I’d rather call it pathetic.”

“Go catch whatever Y/N has,” he shooed Alhaitham away, “maybe that would give you some perspective.”

The scribe stood silent for a few seconds. He knew his roommate was right, he should’ve thought about how you felt before anything. Kaveh was about to believe he had won a squabble for once, but then he suddenly revealed, “Y/N… is angry at me.”

Kaveh pshawed at him, “With the way you talked to her? No shit.” Alhaitham didn’t move an inch. “Hey, what happened there, anyway? It wasn’t like Y/N to burst out to you like that. Are you hiding something?”

With a sigh, the grey-haired man decided to reveal everything to his roommate. He listened intently, gasping and scolding him for his lack of attention towards you, adding salt to his open wounds. Upon recalling the words the scribe had said, Kaveh took a slight breath, “You fucked up.”

“I know.”

“You need to go fix this.”

“I know.”

“And you were calling me pathetic!”

“I know! I just-“ he couldn’t believe he was saying this. “I need help.”

As he was popularly known, Alhaitham wasn’t one to ask for help. Not because he had too much pride, but because he knew how to solve things like the back of his hand. He had access to numerous files from the Akasha, and he had connections to powerful people, being the scribe and all.

But this was a different situation. Every solution did not guarantee a 100% success rate, 87% at best, and that was not enough for Alhaitham. He was ready to do anything for you, to get on his knees and raise you to the highest regard, to even beg.

“I could ask Tighnari,” Kaveh began, “The Sabzeruz Festival is coming soon, maybe you could ask her out?”

Right, now that he’s perceived as a hero of his nation, he is expected to attend these festivals. He never bothered to come before, and he wouldn’t now, but he was willing to if it meant getting to see you again. “I don’t think she’ll be accepting me as her date.”

“Then we’ll talk to her.”

“Will she be willing to listen? Wait, isn’t she sick?”

Kaveh sighed, downhearted, “Right.” Then he clicked his fingers at the scribe, “I have an idea!”

—

“Collei? What are you doing here,” you said after opening your door. She drew a small grin with worried eyes, holding a box of goods for you. It’s been a while since you saw her, she grew up well, taller since your last meeting.

“Hello, miss Y/N! I heard from Master Tighnari that you weren’t feeling well,” yes, you distinctly remember lying to them (Tighnari, and Kaveh) so they wouldn’t see you as often. “So I thought I could bring you simple remedies.” The little girl observed you. “But now I think there’s no need for that,” she chuckled.

“Ah, yeah, don’t worry, it was just a small cold. Speaking of Tighnari, how come he isn’t here with you?” You ushered her in and sat her down for some tea, placing her box of medicines on the counter.

“He had some business to attend to with a merchant and allowed me to visit you. It’s been a while since you’ve travelled to Gandharva Ville, miss Y/N, do you have any plans on visiting?”

“Yes, I’m thinking of basing the rainforest as the main setting for my new book, actually.”

You both chatted about everything you could as you waited for the water to boil. Afterwards, you served a hot teapot, dwelling in mint and lotus herbs. “Ah, Collei, how long are you and Tighnari staying in the city?”

“Just for three days, though I would like to stay until after the Sabzeruz Festival,” she chuckles, holding her now warm cup in her hands.

“You could come with me if Tighnari would allow it.”

The little girl’s eyes beamed with stars, “Really? Oh, I’ve been dreaming of going to one for ages! Miss Nilou will be performing, right?” You nod to her delight, “Yes! Archons, I really hope Master would let me.”

As if he heard his name, Tighnari knocked on your door. Opening it, he looked glad seeing your healthy state. “Y/N! Good to see you’re feeling well now.” He peaked behind you to see Collei sip from her cup.

Upon recognizing her master, Collei got up and greeted him. “Hi, Master! Miss Y/N and I were just talking about the Sabzeruz Festival, and that I could come with her to see Miss Nilou perform!” Her enthusiasm was as contagious as a cold, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“As long as it wouldn’t be a hassle for Y/N, and that you would always be careful when purchasing products,” Tighnari worries like a mother. “Always look at the expiration dates, check if there are anything you’re allergic to.”

He goes on and on for about 5 minutes until you cut him off, “Alright, alright, Tighnari, it’s not like she’ll be going all alone; she has me with her!”

With this, Collei wrapped her arms around your waist, ever so thankful for your support. You thought of her as a niece, and she thought of you as an auntie, willing to give her advice on anything, trivial or not. After a few more words exchanged, and details for the festival, the pair decide to head to their cottage.

For once, you enjoyed your time and not think of Alhaitham once!

Oops.

—

It was the day of the Sabzeruz Festival; you had already picked Collei up from their cottage and are on your way to the Grand Bazaar. You could see thousands of attendees, travelling merchants, and familiar faces on the way.

As the vibrant colors and lights of the festival unfolded before you, the once a source of excitement and anticipation now loomed before you like a daunting reminder of what you had done. Despite Dehya's invitation, you couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider, a solitary figure adrift in a sea of joyous revelry. Each smile, each laugh felt like a dagger to your already wounded heart, a painful reminder of the love you had lost and the embarrassment that now consumed you.

But this was no time for dwelling upon the memories that brought misery, remember, Collei is counting on you to give her a good time.

“Y/N, Collei!” You spot Kaveh in the distance waving and walking your way. Collei happily waved back. “I’m so glad I could run into you guys, you have no idea how terrified I am of meeting a client by accident.”

You laughed, “Do I have to accompany you, too, Kaveh?”

“Actually, I was thinking of letting you have some fun while I take care of little Collei here.” He ruffles her neatly-done hair, now messy but more natural-looking. This led Collei to bring out a small comb to fix it.

You felt irresponsible leaving Collei in someone else’s care, you’d said you would take care of her, and it felt like you would be breaking a promise if you agreed to his offer. You tuck your hair behind your ear, “I don’t know, Kaveh, something feels wrong about that, no offense. Plus, if something were to happen to Collei, we wouldn’t hear the end of it; you wouldn’t like Tighnari when he’s angry.”

“A fair point, but you’ve been locked up in your house for two weeks, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. You deserve to be out there, butterfly, spread the wings you grew from being in that cocoon!”

That somehow felt too specific. Does he know something? Collei starts to agree, despite seeming so excited to go with you. “Even you, Collei?” You sigh, “Fine, but if something happens, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You weren’t expecting to have so much fun here. The lights, the music, even the people were a blast! At first you were anxious for Collei, checking in from time to time, then as you continued to do so, your vists would be more spaced apart. You drank some punch with Dehya and Dunyarzad, who seemed to be doing really well for themselves, then you danced with the crowd in the name of Lesser Lord Kusanali.

After all of that, it was time for one last dance before Nilou’s grand performance. The band began to play a soft, romantic folk song. “Alright, Sumeru City,” called the lead singer, their voice sonorous with seduction, “before we settle down for the reknowned Nilou, let’s have a little treat for all the couples out there. So, grab your partner and dance along.”

Just as you were at the height of excitement, everything seemed to come crashing down again. You stood on the sidelines, feeling lost and out of place. Dehya and Dunyarzad swayed together, hand in hand. A lot of other couples came together and danced. The passion embedded in the song they sang only made you feel more alone, the walls of the Grand Bazaar growing taller and taller as you gazed upon them in longing.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, a man you don’t remember meeting. “Excuse me, miss, could I trouble you with a dance?” He looked about your age, a nice smile and an energetic demeanor. You were cautious of his intentions, though. It’s possible to have fun while maintaining a distance, right?

You accepted his invitation, all of the sudden you felt a sick knot in your stomach, like you were cheating on Alhaitham. But you weren’t together anymore, why would you stop yourself from meeting new people?

The man said his name was Hafan, a mercenary from the Corps of Thirty. He offered to buy you a drink once the dance was over, and again, you gladly accepted while the sweat in your palms said otherwise. You talked with every step you took, getting to know each other and telling stories. He made you laugh—a lot��and you impressed him with your witty comebacks. Perhaps this was the Dendro Archon’s response to your prayer? A hand to guide you through the maze, and to help you believe in love again?

But just amidst the merry atmosphere of the festival, a lingering anxiousness settled within your stomach.

Then, you saw him.

Alhaitham stood in the corner of the room, the desperate merchants and harmonizing of the band seemed to die down as time stood still. The vibrant colors faded into shades of grey as your heart clenched with a mixture of dread and longing.

It was as if a gate had opened within you, unleashing a torrent of emotions you had struggled to contain. Guilt gnawed at your conscience, regret tore your chest open, and love gave your heart to him.

As Hafan twirled you gracefully across the makeshift floor, you held your gaze with Alhaitham, your heart torn between the past and the present, between what was and what could’ve been.

Maybe you had been thinking too rashly, maybe he had changed over the course of your absence. The way he looked at you with such burning could not make you think otherwise.

In that moment, with all the crowds in the festival and the ache of your fractured heart, you knew for certain—no matter how hard you deny it, no matter how fast you tried to run, you could never escape the grasp he had on your soul.

The dance had ended, though it felt like it just started. Before Hafan could get that drink he promised, you said, “I’m sorry, Hafan.” He looked at you in confusion. “You must be looking for someone to—I don’t know—spend the rest of the festival with, and I don’t think I can fulfill that position. You’re a sweet guy, truly, I’m just not in a good place for anything right now.” Archons, you sounded ridiculous. But to your suprise, the man hardly took it personally.

“It’s okay, I get it. I had fun with you tonight, Y/N. You’re a great person to be around.” You almost regret having to end your time with him. “I’ll see you around, yeah?” He gave you a nod of farewell and left your side.

You looked in the direction of Alhaitham, again, hoping to catch that feeling of familiarity, but you had found he was no longer there. Perhaps it was your imagination.

You then searched for Collei and Kaveh, but they were nowhere to be found. They weren’t near the stalls, or in front of the stage.

They were nowhere in the bazaar.

The panic you felt shook your entire foundation, the pillars that kept you from going back home, back to the pain.

What if they had been kidnapped? You trusted Kaveh’s words, that he would take care of her, but for all you know they could be in the middle of the desert right now! What if Kaveh had run into a client and got distracted? What if Collei got injured or hospitalized?

Your heart began beating in your ears, your breath hastened with every thump. The air seemed so thin in the enclosed space, you needed to go outside. Yes, perhaps you could have a better chance at finding them out there, too.

As you walked out the doors of the Grand Bazaar, Collei’s name immediately echoed through the night. “Collei!” After numerous calls left with no answers, lumps of tears began crawling down your cheeks. “Oh my archon,” you sobbed. You could imagine the look on Tighnari’s face, the worry, the anger, the disappointment.

The feeling of losing them was clawing to your soul, like a mother bird losing her chick after their first flight. If they go missing, it was your fault. That fact will forever stain your soul, haunting your remaining days until the sweet release of death.

You sat on a curb, just near the entrance of the bazaar in hopes that the little girl and the architect would return unharmed. More tears had revealed themselves as your thoughts grew more and more intense, terrorizing, even.

The streets were so quiet, only the music from the festival and the first chirps of the crickets seemed to fill your ears, your sobs excluded. No guards or matras were present with you. Who the hell was in charge of security here!? The starry sky brought a comfortable cold instead of blazing heat.

You then heard footsteps from the bazaar and a person sitting beside you. “I walked them home,” a gruff voice sounded, “Collei was getting tired.”

Just your luck, the man who sat with you was no other than Alhaitham. Despite the conflicting emotions that came to you in a flash, you were relieved that Collei was safe. You let out a heavy breath. “Thank you,” you sniff, brushing away the tears that stained your face.

It was quiet again, for a while. You could hear Nilou’s music from outside; “Collei would’ve loved seeing Nilou dance,” you thought aloud. “I remember her basking about it when she had just became Tighnari’s pupil.” Suddenly, you felt calmer, safer now that the eerie silence accompanied you with the presence of the man you knew as well as breathing.

—

Alhaitham couldn’t say anything, busying himself gazing upon your eyes and your weakly pulled smile. There was still sadness lingering within them, covered by a coating of relief. He felt remorse for taking Collei away from you, for making you worry like this, for leaving you in the dark for a long, long time. Nonetheless, he was happy it led to you talking to him again. He was almost certain this day would never come.

Then he is reminded of you dancing with another man. His heart pounded erratically against his chest, each beat echoing the tumultuous storm of emotions raging within him. He had come to the festival in search of hope and redemption, a fleeting reprieve from the pain that chewed up his soul. But instead, he had found more heartache, contrary to the plan.

As he watched you twirl and sway with the man’s hand in yours, he felt as though the world tilted off its axis, leaving him teetering on the precipice of anguish. How could you be dancing so freely with another when every fiber of his being yearned to hold you so close, to feel the warmth you gave him once more?

His hands clenched into fists against his knees, his jaw tightened with unexpressed emotion. He remembered how badly he wanted to look away, but the flow of your hair and how gracefully you moved wouldn’t let him, it was as if you had casted a spell upon him, forever tormenting him to stay on the sidelines, to repress the overwhelming desire to be the one twirling you around and making you smile.

A surge of conflicting emotions washed over him—a searing pang of jealousy intertwined with a profound sense of regret and longing. Then just when he was ready to cross the bridge that separated you, he felt a small tug on his darkened cape. “Mr. Scribe Alhaitham,” Collei said meekly, sheepishly rubbing her eyes, “Did the plan work?”

He remembers Kaveh’s words, so filled with determination, She’ll do anything for Collei, so if she asks to go to the festival, Y/N will for sure accompany her! Once the slow dance starts, that’s when you’ll swoop in and declare your love.

And if it doesn’t work?, the scribe raised his eyebrows.

It will! I’ll make sure no one gets near her.

Boy, did that plan go to shit.

He gave the little girl a soft smile despite the mind-numbing pain in his chest. He knelt down to her level, “Isn’t Kaveh supposed to be with you?”

“Someone was talking to him just a while ago. It seemed pretty heated, so I slipped away when I got the chance,” she yawned.

“Of course,” Alhaitham muttered. Must be a client of his. “You look tired, Collei.”

“I think I’m ready to go home now, Mr. Alhaitham.” The drowsiness in her eyes could barely hold her awake. It was getting late, she must not be used to staying up at times like these.

Alhaitham looked back at you, wondering if you were still keeping your eyes on him. To no avail, it was like you had vanished like a ghost with the beautiful, painful sight he had witnessed along with you. A heavy feeling lingered in his chest, leaving him to wonder if you would lock your gaze with him again. Then he left, accompanying Collei back to her and Tighnari’s cottage.

On his way back to the bazaar for reasons unknown, he found you weeping in your hands, curled up like a shriveled bug beaten down, calling out Collei’s name. After he assured you of the little girl’s safety, you began talking about your experiences with her. Ever so glad, he listened to your voice, melodious and soothing like a lullaby to put him to sleep. The euphoria he experienced was one like no other, it was the first time he felt at peace for eons against the stars and the cool breeze. Then, he wondered, were you feeling the same?

“They found a new Grand Sage,” he announced.

“Is that why you have the time now?” Your words stung his morality, picking on the weak scabs of his mistakes.

He took a moment to respond. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”

Unable to meet his gaze, you managed a casual tone, “I know, Alhaitham.” His name sounded like a song whenever it came from your lips. “Besides, it’s not your fault.” Your voice was then hoarse of emotion, fingers picking at the dirt beneath you. “I shouldn’t have let myself to get lost in my own thoughts.”

“But I should’ve been there for you,” Alhaitham insisted. “I should not have made you feel like you were alone.”

“But it happened anyway.”

For a moment, silence enveloped the space between you, only broken by the distant sounds of the festival. Then, slowly, you turned to meet his gaze, in a light that had no remorse, for the first time since you told him to leave.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” you admitted, your voice trembling with uncertainty. “But I do know I’m willing to try.”

With this, Alhaitham took you in a warm embrace, letting out a shaky breath as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. He then held you by the shoulders, teary as you released him from this torture. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right again.”

As you looked into his eyes, you found the sincerity in his voice, determination reflecting upon his irises. Despite everything that had happened, you couldn’t deny the hope that ignited in your stomach. Maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to find your way back together.

You held his hands first, then traced your way to his cheeks, warm with anticipation. Then you pulled him into a kiss that was long overdue, Alhaitham almost tumbling from the force you had exerted.

As your lips meet, there is a softness, a tenderness in the way they press together, as if each touch carries the weight of a thousand whispered promises. Time seems to stand still as you both lose yourselves in the sensation, senses heightened by the intoxicating blend of warmth and desire. It's a symphony of sensations—a gentle caress, a fleeting brush of lips, a silent exchange of emotions that speaks volumes without a single word. And in that fleeting moment, you find solace, connection, and a sense of belonging in each other's embrace.

Slow as the breeze blew your hair, everything froze and only he brought the fire to relieve you of your vains. Alhaitham’s lips were soft and cold, clearly waiting for this day to come. When he leaned back for air, foreheads connected together, you breathed, “I love you.”

As you heard the crowd’s applause from a distance, as if cheering for your reconciling, he replied, “I love you more,” before pulling you in for another well-deserved kiss.

—the end.—

#genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham fanfic #alhaitham angst #angst to comfort #4ggravate #alhaitham #alhaitham comfort #dehyarzad #genshin dehya #dunyarzad

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httpsserene · 3 months

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I LOVED daniel ricciardo x max verstappen x reader!! could you write a part 2?

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊'𝖘 2𝕶 𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 | 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖊𝖑 𝕽𝖎𝖈𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖔 𝕰𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐞: 𝐊.𝐎. !

summary: Okay, Daniel may have won the first round. He cleared her dry spell with no problem and used Max to do it, too. That’s completely fine, she will never complain about experiencing some of the best orgasms of her life. But, Max (the man unable to not have the last word) coerces her into giving Daniel a taste of his own medicine. As soon as they can manage to walk on two feet, without a wobble. Mark their fucking words. pairing: daniel ricciardo x max verstappen x fem!black!reader content warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. author recommends reading part one before this. polyamory. threesome. massages. overstimulation. multiple orgasms. safe, sane, and consensual. bondage. safeword mention. unprotected sex. ruined orgasm. handjob. oral sex (male receiving). edging. crying during sex. praise kink. nipple play. dom/sub ig? joking during sex. dom!max verstappen. switch!daniel ricciardo. sub!reader. vaginal sex. anal sex (male). sex toys (butt plug). frottage. don’t like don’t read. no beta we die like men. edited by the author, though. this is a fictional depiction of real-life people, and this is not an accurate representation of them. word count: 4.3k words

author’s notes: to all the lovely readers who begged for a part two of my f1 kinktober special | overstimulation kink w danny & max. these tags may look crazy...okay, they are but the fic is reasonably crazy i would say. this was humbling to write, you have been warned. my 2k followers special comes to its end with this final installment and there will be no part three of this fic < 3. i may repost this on ao3 in a week or so, for ease of reading as i know long fics on tumblr are kind of annoying :)

(i'm going to take a little pause from writing daniel ricciardo fics but those of you that have requested things for him i will get to them in due time xxx)

prev part 1 2k special join taglist feedback & requests table of contents↻

Your body feels like it’s been wrung out: legs wobbly, thighs bruised, hips aching, back broken, and numb with heat between your legs. You refuse to wear pants as the friction is too paralyzing to take more than a few steps. Loose dresses are your best friend–for the first couple of days, you even went commando around the ranch—thank god neither one of your boyfriends clued into that.

However, it’s not like you disliked the oversensitivity and aching muscles that came after sex. You loved the feeling even more as it was the first time you’d been properly fucked in a few months. Having that unending thirst for Max and Daniel quenched; it’s heightened how you experience life. You swear that your vision feels sharper, your melanated skin softer, anything you eat tastes better than delicious, the homemade lemonade is sweeter, and most importantly, your desperation has calmed. While you love life on the farm, where living has become succulent under your senses—Max’s attitude has done a complete 180°.

His energy is completely subdued. It’s like Daniel drained the cum and brat out of him. Max is all stuttered words when he makes eye contact with either of you, blushing fully at the lightest tease or brush of skin, voice soft when he speaks, usual bluntness replaced with shyness, and he’s even clingier than normal. If he hasn’t glued himself underneath Daniel’s arm, he’ll be plastered against your back.

You wonder if he’s embarrassed that Daniel changed their “plan” on him at the last minute, or if it’s because Daniel used him as a tool to get you off—but, asking Max would only scare him away or cause the brat to resurface…so you don’t verbalize your theories. You find Max in this state more adorable than usual, and you won’t complain if it means a surplus of Max-cuddles.

Yet, the figurative rug is pulled from beneath your feet when the three of you go Christmas shopping. Daniel had separated from the two of you to go pick up a gift for his nephew, leaving you and Max alone to browse through knickknacks that decorate the shelves. Your eyes were caught by cat ornaments that looked exactly like Jimmy and Sassy but before you could reach out to grab, them Max grabbed you by the hand and pulled you to hide in the next aisle over.

“I want to break Daniel with so many orgasms that he won’t be able to speak by the time we’re done with him,” Max states bluntly. The brat is back.

“Regulate your volume,” you whisper-yell at him, hand moving to cover his mouth as you look around to see if anybody heard your Dutch boyfriend, “We are in public and you decided now is the time to bring this up?!”

He pulls your hand off his face, looking at you with wide eyes, “But, liefje–c’mon! Daniel’s been way too smug recently. Whenever I’m around him he doesn’t miss the chance to mention how he made me cry—made you cry, too!”

“Inside voice, Max,” you bite out, continuing to look at the Christmas decorations in this aisle.

“Fine,” Max whispers, rolling his eyes, “Technically, it’s another Christmas present for him if you think about it.”

“I’m trying not to think about it if you haven’t noticed.”

“Don’t you want to even the board? Imagine it: Daniel underneath the two of us, and we’re overwhelming him with pleasure. Doesn’t that sound like a good time?”

You stop walking abruptly and Max runs into your back. You spin around and stare at him with narrowed eyes and a flared nose.

“You seriously thought the best time to discuss this is in the middle of a family-friendly store, where our boyfriend is picking up a gift for his nephew?”

“Yes.”

“If you stop talking about it for the entire time we’re shopping today, I’ll consider it. We can discuss this when the phantom feeling of his cum on my skin goes away.”

That evening, you and the Dutchman watch Daniel fix a motorbike out in the driveway from the garage. He’s shirtless, sweat dripping down his face and back, you can see every muscle engage and relax as he moves. He’s silhouetted by the Australian sunset and you hear Max choke on his breath when Daniel’s loose jeans slip down his hips, exposing the waistband of his briefs—twin sighs of disappointment leave you both when he catches and drags them back up. With shaky hands, you grab the pitcher of lemonade you prepared to pour a glass for each of you. Ignoring how you missed the glass on your first few attempts, you two bring the drinks to your lips and dry the cups embarrassingly quickly to satiate your desperation—the lemonade doesn’t help.

Daniel finishes with the bike and wipes his hands on a towel he had tucked into his back pocket, looking your guys’ way. He smiles brightly—shamefully, you wave in response and Max tucks a nonexistent strand of hair behind his ear; the two of you are acting like school girls with a crush.

The Australian stands and in a few relaxed strides, he comes to a stop in front of you two.

“Can you pour me a glass, sweetheart?” his request rumbles out velvety.

Stuttering, you scramble to do as he asked and find that Max has reached for the pitcher as well when your hands bump into each other. The two of you freeze and stare at each other with wide eyes; Max’s blush blooms red across his face and yours warms the brown skin of your cheeks. Daniel’s chuckle of amusement snaps you out of it; Max pours the drink, and you hand it off to the Australian, avoiding eye contact. He brings the glass to his lips and drains it dry. You and the Dutchman stare with gaped mouths, watching the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows, whimpering and pressing your thighs together at his ah in satisfaction when finished.

He leans down to place the glass back on the tray and smirks at you and Max, “Absolutely delicious. It almost tastes as sweet as either of you is acting right now.”

Both of you stay silent, squirming in your lawn chairs. Daniel takes a second to slowly press both of your mouths closed with a nudge of his fingers before straightening up and clearing his throat.

“Thank you for the drink, sweetheart,” Daniel cocks his head to the side in question, before winking, his smug aura radiating off of him, “Or should I say, ‘sweethearts?’ As both of you seemed so eager to help me quench my thirst.”

Your mouth pops open again and Max audibly whimpers next to you. Daniel laughs and walks to enter the house, “Don’t feel afraid to join me in the shower.”

The plan is set before Daniel’s out of the shower. You’ve changed into a black mini slip dress, curls loosely cascading down your back as you’ve draped yourself on top of the bed sideways, face-down on your tummy, not caring how the back of your dress has ridden up a couple of inches. Max laid himself on his side next to you, dressed in a navy Enchanté shirt and a pair of Daniel’s briefs that hug at his thighs a little too tightly, and plays with the bottom hem of your dress, letting his fingers drift underneath to press at bruises that haven’t healed from that night.

At the sound of the shower shutting off, the two of you glance at each other; Max checking in with you one last time before you guys follow through with the plan. At your nod, Max presses a soft kiss to your lips and goes back to fiddling with your dress. You rest your head on your folded arms and as your eyes flutter shut, the bathroom door opens.

You hear Daniel humming some country song and he gets about three steps into the room before he stops abruptly.

“Well, if I had known this would be waiting for me out here, I wouldn’t have spent a lifetime in the shower waiting for you guys to take me up on my offer.”

Max makes a noise of confusion, his hand pausing at your hemline, “What are you talking about? We just thought it would be nice to give you a massage—you know, prevent any muscle tightness from when you were hunched over the bike.”

“Is that so, pretty girl?” Daniel questions you, looking past Max. He’s dried off from his shower already, skin gleaming thanks to your cocoa butter lotion he probably stole, hair still damp but not dripping, and a towel wrapped around his waist. You’re sure he’s trying to sniff out any weakness; to see if he can bend you into revealing Max’s agenda for tonight. Little does he know that you’re not an accomplice, you’ve put a good amount of work into this plan too.

In response, you offer a small smile and hold up a bottle of massage oil that was previously tucked into your side. Daniel’s narrowed eyes flit between the two of you, and then he relaxes, shrugging loftily as he motions for the two of you to move so he can lie down.

“Okay, sure,” Daniel laughs, falling into the bed as soon as the space is available, lying flat on his stomach, face planting into the pillows and his next words are muffled but loud enough to understand, “You don’t have to use ‘giving me a massage’ as an excuse to feel me up, but I’m not going to turn it down if you’re so willing to do so.”

You and Max are kneeling on opposite sides of Daniel’s body on the bed, resting on the heels of your feet, and you muffle a giggle at Max rolling his eyes at your boyfriend’s words. The younger man slaps his hand on Daniel’s back, grinning at the stifled yelp that sounds from near the headboard, and coos sarcastically, “Do you think you can handle that level of pain? Considering this is a deep-tissue massage?”

You drizzle a nice amount of oil on the middle of his back, letting your laughter escape as Daniel pleads, “Woah—hear me out, what about a regular massage? I would like to end this massage without crying from soreness, please.”

Slowly the two of you turn to look at each other, smiles spreading across your lips, and Max murmurs, “Oh. You’ll be crying by the end of this.”

You ignore Daniel begging for mercy underneath you and beginning massaging. For all of the Dutchman’s ribbing, the two of you are gentle. Your hands soothingly rub any tension out of his back; the two of you are only doing this to melt Daniel into the bed. He protests and grumbles through the both of you digging into his shoulders, but quiets as you make your way down his back, practically moaning when you push a knot out from behind his shoulder blade. Max manages to wrangle out a whimper when he presses his thumb into the dimple of his lower back. Neither of you gets close to the towel resting low on his hips; you want to keep him as calm and unaware as possible, but getting close to that towel would do the opposite. When Daniel’s breathing slows and his sounds of relief start to lessen, Max gently coaxes Daniel into rolling on his back with ease.

The brunette’s eyes flutter open, but you tut disapprovingly when his gaze meets yours. With a kiss on his forehead, Daniel closes his eyes at your word, not fighting you for a second. And from that point, you and Max begin conditioning the older man to get used to only having one pair of hands on him at a time. Max massages his chest, you take a break, you massage his chest, Max takes a break; and as Daniel starts to relax at the rhythm, you guys slowly increase the length of your breaks.

Until the breaks get long enough to slip the ties that you guys fastened to the headboard out.

Daniel was so entranced at the sight of you and Max sprawled on his bed that he forgot to examine his surroundings. They’re silk ties, with pre-made straps for you to tighten as soon as his hands are inside them. The two of you take it to the next step; you each begin to massage his arms (still employing your regular breaks), raising them upwards to “get a better angle.” Daniel doesn’t even shift at the change, he just hums under his breath when either of you soothes across a good spot. And with little effort, you and Max raise both of his arms and smoothly slip his tattooed hands into the ties, tightening the straps in the blink of an eye.

The older man startles, eyes flying open as he tries to yank his wrists free of the binds, “Uhhhh, what the fuck?”

Both of you watch as Daniel tries to free himself without any luck, enjoying the show as the silk ties prove they won’t give out. Chills shudder down your spine as your older boyfriend tries to order the two of you to release him, but he must see the feral glint shine in your eyes because he switches to asking when neither of you moves.

“You know what to say if you really want us to let you go, Daniel,” Max states bluntly, pulling off his Enchanté shirt easily.

You hum in agreement, straddling the Australian’s hips and simultaneously tugging your slip dress over your head and tossing it to the side, exposing your bare body before seating yourself on the bulge showing through the towel. Daniel chokes out a curse, his eyes dancing between yours and Max’s bodies being dangled in front of his face without being able to touch.

He tests the binds for any give half-heartedly before sniffing dismissively, jaw tightening as he challenges Max, “Do your worst, baby.”

Max scoffs out a laugh, “That is the plan.”

From there you and Max turn into savages. Both of you bypass kissing Daniel, pressing lips and biting bruises along his neck and torso instead. The man can only cry out as Max terrorizes his nipples with teeth and pinching fingers while you paint marks on his hipbones and navel. The older man isn’t convinced that the night will end without the two of you seriously attempting cannibalism but the thought is pushed away when the towel is tugged off his hips.

Max laughs mockingly and flicks Daniel’s already-hardened length, “Well, this will be even easier than we thought, liefje.”

“I was half-hard from the minute you guys put your hands on me,” Daniel snipes, “Don’t let this go to your head.”

You raise an eyebrow in question, tilting your head to the side innocently which contrasts the strong grasp of your hand around the head of Daniel’s cock, “Isn’t that a compliment, though? Anyways, it clearly went to your head.”

Daniel groans in pleasure as you start to rapidly stroke along his quickly reddening length, “That was a terrible pun–fuck–but, I’m only letting it slide because your hand is on my cock.”

He bucks up into your fist and you release him immediately, smiling as you see him choke down a whimper of disappointment. The older man isn’t left alone for long, as Max drags the tip of his index finger along the slit of Daniel’s cock before flattening his palm across the head and roughly circling it to overwhelm him with an alarming amount of pleasure-coated friction.

The brunette can’t stifle his cries this time nor can he buck his hips, thanks to the Dutchman pinning him down with his free forearm. Max pulls both of his hands away quickly, delighting in Daniel’s sounds of displeasure, the two of you watching as he attempts to chase a hand that isn’t there anymore. His length is throbbing, pulsing angrily, redder than the blush that stains his tanned chest. You swallow wantingly. Both of you thought that you would be able to get a few more rounds out of a handjob, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

Max gets his hand around the base and yours circles the tip. Simultaneously, the two of you start rubbing him off in time, keeping your fists just tight enough and your motions just quick enough to hurtle Daniel to the edge. He throws his head back into the pillows, hips freely bucking as neither one of you attempts to stop him, his hands pulling against the ties all the while,

“You can cum whenever you want, Daniel,” Max states.

The older man lets out several pants of desperation, calling both of your names as he nears his climax. And when you both see the telltale sign of Daniel’s chest rising and falling heavily, you release his cock.

“No! Wait–shit,” he tries to gasp, but it’s too late. His cock starts leaking, jerking pathetically as cum drips down his length in ribbons—his orgasm ruined. Dry sobs escape his lungs as he humps the air, looking for friction that isn’t there, continuing to beg for a hand even as he struggles to breathe as a result of the unsatisfying release.

You let him come down hard, offering support in a quick squeeze of the meat of his thigh over his tattoo. When he catches his breath, his eyes flutter open. Max sees the wetness gathered in the waterlines and moves in the blink of an eye, enveloping Daniel’s still-hard cock in his mouth.

The Australian’s back arches off the bed, hips racing forward then backward as he cries out, unsure if the feeling of Max’s mouth is good. Both pairs of your hands fly forward to still Daniel, forcing him to feel every crevice of Max’s tongue and throat, trying to bring him to another orgasm as quickly as possible. It works, Daniel stops fighting and starts obeying, rolling upward into Max’s mouth, whimpering out depravedly as he struggles against his binds again. You see his abs start to undulate in waves, a second orgasm trying to form and you slip your hand underneath Max’s chin, lightly squeezing at Daniel’s balls—and the tears fall as his release slams into him like a semi-truck.

The younger man swallows around Daniel, humming as he does it, yet the bobbing motion of his head doesn’t stop—Max is going to try his hardness to prevent Daniel from going soft, even as the older man tries to fight and twist away from the wet grasp of his throat. The Australian’s tears paint his cheek as he sobs messily, and you’re quick to check in with him as Max’s mouth is occupied.

“Daniel, color?” you manage to make your voice sound steady, but your thighs are trembling, your cunt pulsing with wetness and need.

The man whimpers, eyes unseeingly looking down at you and Max as he cries messily, “Green.”

You moan breathily, finally giving in to your urges and rushing forward to messily kiss Daniel. You let him cry into your mouth, nipping at his lips and tasting his tears before pulling away. Max pulls off Daniel’s cock with a reedy gasp and moves backward quickly so you can slip in between them, seating your cunt atop the half-hard length and beginning to grind along him. The brunette makes a sound as if he’s been punched in the gut, arms pausing in their fight against the ties before they resume with renewed strength. Daniel scrambles to get his feet underneath him, trying to buck off the hot, wet drag of your cunt against his cock. It’s pulsing so violently that he swears he can feel it in his throat.

Max knocks his feet down, and tugs Daniel’s chin to look at him with a hardened grasp, with his voice rough and croaky he commands, “Can you give us one more, Daniel?”

Daniel's glossy, brown eyes stare at Max without answer, mouth parted as drool slips from the corners of his lips. The Dutchman’s brow tightens with worry and he releases his chin to pull you off. But, before he can stop you, Daniel gasps out desperately.

“M’ green—please, please, Max,” Daniel nods viciously, “Green, green—one more.”

The younger man soothes Daniel with sweet words, praising and comforting him as he leans forward to pepper his lips and neck with kisses and kitten licks, pausing to motion you to continue.

You line up Daniel’s cock easily and murmur out a ‘thank you’, before sinking down and not stopping until your ass meets his pelvis, uncaring of how he attempts to shake you off. His body is reacting in too much, but Max and you both see and hear how his brain interprets it as too good.

You keen in pleasure but your noises are deafened by Daniel’s cries and begs for relief. Well aware that you have to get yourself off so Max can have a turn, you find that toe-curling angle with the help of Max directing your hips, holding yourself steady with one hand behind you on the bed and the other drawing rapid circles on your clit. Max moves to let you rest your back along his chest, your frizzed curls a mess as they bounce with your movements.

The visual stimulation of Daniel in front of you moaning and heaving for more, the frantic twitching of his length inside of you, the sound of your skin slapping against his, and Max’s voice ghosting right by your ear, the ‘good girl’ that left his lips taking a second to process; all of it pushes you into the abyss. You don’t know if it’s you or Daniel that screams, your blood rushing in your ears and your vision flashing white clouds your mind as the explosion of pleasure burns your nerve endings.

With a choked ‘fuck,’ you slump over, slipping off his twitching cock and slinking down next to Daniel as you shiver and shake through the last dregs of pleasure. Max flutters over both of you, unsure if he should keep pushing the limit, but both you and Daniel yell confirmations of “Green!” that have Max ripping off his briefs, reaching between his legs and whimpering as he carefully tugs out the plug he’s had in for the entire time.

Daniel’s eyes roll in disbelief, his brain exhausted to the point where he can’t string together any words to communicate his confusion.

Max huffs out a hysterical giggle, one hand stroking along his cock as he tosses the plug off the side of the bed. “Fuck–you were in the shower forever, Daniel. I’ve had that in for too long.”

The younger man shakes as he lowers himself on Daniel’s cock, bottoming out with a whimper as he mouths down at Daniel, “Just one more, baby, okay? Make me come, yeah?”

The older man’s moan is curdled with overstimulation, but he finds the will to get his feet underneath him and shakily thrust upwards into Max, hoping somehow that that’s enough. Max lets his head fall back in pleasure, thankful for the moving pressure of Daniel’s cock inside of him rather than the consistent annoyance of the plug holding him open. Coupled with the stretch of his rim and his hand furiously twisting along his length, Max reaches his peak quickly.

Before taking the plunge, he chokes out words of praise at Daniel and you rush to do the same, understanding that Max is attempting to push Daniel over the edge as well. You see tears of frustration build in Daniel’s eyes as he struggles to fully give in, and you fall forward to tug at his nipples with your teeth, reinvigorating Daniel’s attempts at slipping from the silk ties. At the sight, Max shouts, body tightening and then relaxing as he strokes out ribbons of cum. Daniel’s hips stutter when the first drop of cum lands on his skin and you feel his lungs halt as the strongest orgasm—most likely dry, at that—wreaks havoc upon his body.

His body goes limp underneath the two of you, and his hands droop in their binds. You speedily untie Daniel’s arms as Max slowly slips off the man’s rapidly softening length, trying to lessen any unwanted stimulation for the unaware Australian. You catch his arms before they fall against the bed, rubbing your hands against them to coax proper blood flow in them. Spent, Max stumbles to Daniel’s side, taking one arm out of your hands and matching your movements.

“Good job, liefje,” Max breathes out, smiling up at you with an exhausted smile, his hair drenched with sweat and falling in front of his eyes. You blush and kiss him sweetly, “It was your idea!”

Max shakes his head, pausing his hands to reach down and brush Daniel’s curls off his forehead, “No; you made half of the plan. So, it was our idea.”

The Australian groans, eyes fluttering open but they’re still clouded enough that you both know he’s going to need more than enough TLC tonight, “ —idea made me think i w‘sgonna die.”

Max laughs, rubbing circles around the man’s temple, “I guess we forgot to factor in your old age as a variable, didn’t we, liefje?”

Daniel’s face flutters in displeasure at being referred to as “old,” even when he’s not quite come down, “Mean, Maxy.”

You giggle, “That’s what he calls mean out of this entire experience?”

The Dutchman presses kisses to both of your foreheads before he stumbles out of bed, “I’m going to grab some fruit and cream for Daniel’s wrists. Should I grab anything else?” He directs the question to you.

Of course, the Australian jumps in before you have the chance to respond, “Lemonade, please.”

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seattlesellie · 10 months

Note

Reader getting a little embarrassed bc Ellie's strap won't fit?

Sorry of that's too much

perfect fit. ♡

screaming crying losing my mind. what a perf excuse to use “ill make it fit”

She’d be on top of you, forehead lightly pressed onto yours. You feel her pouty, somewhat chapped lips ghosting over your own, then lightly and delicately pecking the corner of your mouth. It’s one of your favorite types of kisses, makes you melt into the mattress, heavenly sigh, tremble within her touch. The warmth of her breath caresses your skin, a gentle zephyr of intimacy, of being so close. She looks at you so fucking intently, concentrated, fixated, scarred brows knit together and god, you love that little serious line that forms in between them.

The best way to describe her gaze, the most accurate one, would be to say that she looks at you as if she’s studying, genuinely attempting to take in every little gasp that you let out, eager to decipher every subtle nuance of your existencet, every single blink of your eyelids.

Ellie lowers her hand down from your cheek to the base of her strap on, caressing it upon your soaking, gushing slit. When you moan as a result of its bulbous tip hitting the hood of your clit, then your clit itself, Ellie smirks like an asshole. "I can just keep going like that if you want me to”, she whispers, meaning she knows she could make your pussy cum from just rubbing her cock all over its folds. You shake your head no, because as much as you know that it’s true, you yearn for her inside of you, for that intimacy of getting fucked deep with something she treats as if was her own. Ellie chuckles. “What do you want then, babe?” she coos lowly, continuously hitting that sweet spot above your clit that makes you whine, and her grunt.

You attempt to grab the back of her neck and bring her closer to you, to push her in somehow, but you’re too overwhelmed by everything, your hand ends up falling on the mattress and landing with a small thud. You whine, “Ellie…”, she smirks, moistening her bottom lip and slightly pushing the tip in, so it hangs juuuust a tiny bit away from being inside of your hole. “Inside?” she murmurs, never failing to add that teasing “yeah?” of a raspy coo.

You eagerly nod, she loves it when you do that — so fucking pliant, she stops you mid nod for a kiss that leaves the two of you breathless, tongues dancing a nasty, wet, sinful rhythm within the realm of your hot mouth. She leaves your lips with a loud smack. Your lips are swollen, a pout that kills, how could she ever concentrate on something else in her life?

She’d be absolutely lying if she said she didn’t have daydreams (and nightdreams) of your tight cunt stretched out by her cock, of seeing that pretty clit poking and peaking from the top of your pussy, of watching and taking in the sight of the stretch, the way it’ll slide up and down so easily because of how wet you get.

Unfortunately, Ellie did not take the tightness of yourself in consideration. She picked and packed a nine incher, deep blue and veiny, a bold choice, a goddamn cocky one.

You grab her sleek bicep and dent her skin with your nails, she hisses. You’re actually soaking, a pretty clear pool of heavenly nectar formed on the bedsheet, inside the seam of your ass. Your tiny whimpers are shaky and breathy and ever so desperate, egging Ellie on. “please…” you beg even under no command to do so. “Want it that bad?” teases Ellie, but with how desperate she has become, it sounds more like a plea, begging to please tell her how bad.

“need it inside, ellie, n-need you inside”

"Mhm", she hums softly, eyelids descending languidly, surrendering to the ecstasy of hearing your voice. “M’gonna fuck you” — god, you love it when she tells it like it is.

Pampering your cheeks with desperate, wet little kisses like raindrops, she pushes the tip in further, but… it won’t go inside. It’s blocked, your narrow hole begins to burn, redden, eyesight going out of focus, everything fading into a hazy abstraction. “Babe, it won’t…” she murmurs and attempts to fuck herself inside again. “Fuck, t'wont go in”

Your heart quickens its rhythm, a pulsating drumbeat beneath your chest, as you instinctively shut your eyes and, with a mix of embarrassment and restraint, gently bite down on your lip. You spread your thighs even further, attempting to somehow give her more space for movement, she pushes in again, you wince. “Owh, Ellie… owh”

You don't quite know if you're more embarrassed, or more pissed off. Your hole pulsates and yearns for a taste of her dick, but it hurts, and this feeling bubbles up inside your chest — This actual fear of disappointment, of not being good enough like her previous partners, of being or feeling too fragile, too inexperienced. You can't help but scan your eyes over her face, looking for a sign that will tell you that you're right, that you have disappointed her or worse, but before you manage to find it —

“Ffffuuuhck” she exasperates breathily. She strokes your cheeks with her thumb, a worried expression on her face. Her eyes dart over your form, muscles of her jaw tightly clenched. "Don't wanna hurt you", She murmurs and her voice is so sweet, "Can jus' use my fingers, yeah?"

“No, please" you sob, "I’m— fuck, i’m too tight!” your voice is a whine, an actual tear leaking from the corner of your eye, chin wobbling. Ellie’s so fucking torn because poor you, and she knows it hurts — she doesn’t want to hurt you, ever — but hearing those words fall from your lips… it’s hard not to buck her hips inwards and make you take it, miss “too tight”

“This is so… m'sorry” you actually sob, sniffling and avoiding her loving gaze, and maybe if you’d look — instead of letting your embarrassment wash over you and be a murky presence in your mind, your tears might have faltered. “S’not gonna fit”, your chest heaves. Ellie wipes a tear away — from your cheek, from the corners of your eyes, she considers comforting you, telling you to never apologize for anything, ever again, but she's sensible and rational and knows what do to next, to actually stop your tears from falling.

“babe?”, she huskily murmurs. You hum back, holding onto another choked sob.

“I’ll make it fit”

“Know I will”

#𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 anon 🎀#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams x you

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dark-fics-4-you · 3 months

Text

Crying in the Country Club | ch. I

older!Rafe Cameron x dark!Reader

Warnings: age gap crush; large age gap; accidental flashing; obsessive thoughts; some sexist comments from Reader towards Rafe’s wife; flirting with an older, married man

The Carolina summer heat hung heavy in the air and you had long tuned out the monotonous buzz of the cicadas.

Charlie asked you a question and you answered with a shrug of your shoulders, moving the water around you as you swam in laps around the pool.

Much to your disappointment, Mr. Cameron hadn’t been out to check up on the two at all today.

Usually he would step out of the house and tell some stupid joke that would make you laugh so hard you’d double over, secretly hoping that your best friends’ dad would sneak a peak of your cleavage as your pressed your tits together and giggled stupidly.

The best, and sometimes only, reason that you hung out with Charlie so much was purely to spend time with and get closer to her father.

Rafe Cameron.

Father of your best friend. Best friend of your father. And the man that you obsessed over the most in the world.

Calling your feelings for Rafe Cameron a “crush,” felt childish, juvenile, which were the last ways you’d ever want him to see you.

No, your feelings towards the older man were much more akin to passion. Love. Dedication. And at times, absolute obsession.

For as long as you could remember Mr. Cameron being in your life, you could remember having intense feelings for him.

He had spent so much time around you when you were a kid, the Cameron household felt like your second home, and Rafe had almost felt like a second father in a strange way back then.

Growing up, Rafe had always babysat you until you were old enough to be on your own anytime your parents were unavailable, as you lived pretty close to the Cameron residence.

When you were in middle school you realized that you found Mr. Cameron incredibly attractive, a fact that once you told Charlie years ago, and when she fake threw up and laughed it off, you didn’t bring up again.

Even the fact that Mr. Cameron was happily married had never deterred your affections for him at all.

Hatred, enmity, and loathing were not strong enough words to accurately convey how you felt about Rebecca Cameron.

Charlie’s mother, and more importantly, Rafe’s wife, was an annoying, timid woman. You had had many years to hypothesize about their relationship and why Rafe stayed with that woman and for the life of you, you could never figure it out.

They probably were still together for Charlie’s sake, although now that you were both college aged, you didn’t see why Rafe didn’t just hurry up and divorce her already.

You were right there in front of him! What could possibly be holding him back?

As your thoughts ricocheted down more anxious rabbit holes in your mind, you were interrupted by the shrill sound of Charlie’s voice.

“I gotta go to the bathroom, and I think I’ll be done swimming after that. Are you cool with getting out soon?”

“Yeah, just lemme stay a lil longer.”

Charlie nodded and left you alone, thankfully.

You were still upset that Rafe hadn’t made an appearance. Here you were, showing yourself off wearing one of your skimpiest bikinis, and he was nowhere to be found.

Was he ignoring you? Was he trying to piss you off?

Maybe it was all just an elaborate ploy of faking disinterest to throw Mrs. Cameron off the trail?

Or maybe he didn’t have any feelings for you at all.

That thought made you want to rip out your hair and claw out your eyes with your fingernails.

Of course, it was probably all that witch, Rebecca Cameron’s fault.

She disliked you, that much you knew, but you were Charlie’s best friend, so there wasn’t much she could do to stop you from visiting.

You suspected, and hoped, that her disapproval of you also stemmed from the fact that you were a young, attractive, single woman.

All of the things she wasn’t.

Maybe she suspected Rafe might leave her for a younger woman. Honestly, if you were her, you would have been scared of that too.

Your eyes fell to the diving board and you realized you hadn’t used it at all today. Feeling pent up with anxious energy, you figured it couldn’t hurt to do a dive or two.

You climbed onto the board, testing the springiness with a few bounces before diving in to the cool water.

When your head broke the surface, you were surprised to hear clapping, and you opened your eyes to see Mr. Cameron standing at the edge of the pool watching you.

“Nice dive, Y/N? Have you been working on your form?” His deep voice brought butterflies to your stomach and you grinned at him and swam a bit closer.

He had noticed that your dive had improved? Did that mean he had been watching you more closely than you thought?

Plastering your sweetest smile across your lips, you giggled, twirling a piece of your hair in your finger as you answered, “I have, I’m glad you noticed!”

Finally reaching a place you could stand, you planted your feet on the floor of the pool and straightened up.

When Rafe’s eyes widened and his cheeks brightened before glancing away after a beat, you looked down to realize that your bikini top had become unfastened and your bare chest was exposed.

Feigning embarrassment, but secretly feeling thrilled, you let out an “oops!” before taking your time adjusting the material and trying to tie the top.

“Shit,” you huffed as you faked being unable to tie it, and you climbed out of the pool and turned your back to Rafe.

“Um, could you help me?” You asked in a sweet voice, playing dumb and innocent in front of him.

The older man hesitated for a moment before nervously chuckling and reaching for the straps.

When his large hands brushed against your dewy skin, you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning out loud, and you were thankful he couldn’t see your face.

When he was done, you turned around, glancing up at the much taller man cheerily.

“Thanks, Mr. Cameron!”

Rafe sheepishly chuckled, looking embarrassed, “no problem, Y/N.”

The two of you stared at each other for a long moment, and you tried to guess what could possibly be going through his mind.

You wondered if he was hard right now.

“Well, um… dinner is almost ready. Charlie and Rebecca are already inside.”

At the mention of his wife, you frowned, but you jokingly played it off like you had just wanted to keep swimming and you were relieved when Rafe laughed with you.

You briefly wondered if he would mention the incident to Rebecca. Even though he only got a short glance, you hoped Rafe had compared your body to his wife’s, just for a split second.

Stepping inside the impressive Cameron house, the scent of garlic and tomatoes wafted from the kitchen and you realized that swimming had worked up more of an appetite than you had thought.

After taking a quick shower (during which you left the door unlocked hoping Rafe would accidentally stumble in), you dried off and changed into a tight, flattering top and a short skirt that you had caught Rafe staring at you when you wore it last.

Walking into the dining room, you could feel his eyes on you in your revealing outfit and you took your spot beside your best friend and across from Rafe.

When you reached for the bottle of red wine to pour yourself a glass, Mrs. Cameron loudly cleared her throat, glancing over at her husband with a raised eyebrow.

“What Becca? The girls can have a little wine with dinner, we let them all the time.” Rafe chuckled, referring to the many occasions when the Cameron’s had hosted extravagant dinner parties with 5 courses and liberally flowing alcohol.

Rafe winked at you and you grinned, silently ecstatic that he had shut his wife down for you.

She grumbled as you poured the glass, and you made sure that you added slightly more than may have usually been appropriate just to piss her off a little more.

Mrs. Cameron’s cooking was very good, but that was about where your praises for her ended.

She was incredibly high strung, and was frequently prone to have fits that required intensive professional treatment in the past, a fact that the Cameron’s usually preferred to keep under wraps.

On top of her volatile mood swings, you just found her to be incredibly annoying.

And you weren’t the only one.

Charlie seemed to pity and tolerate her mom more than anything else, and even your beloved Rafe seemed to get frustrated with her at times, much to your excitement.

You just had to put up with her if you wanted to be close to him.

As Mrs. Cameron droned on about reality tv shows and other trash, you glanced over to Rafe to see that even he wasn’t paying attention. The older man shot you a knowing smile when he noticed you, subtly rolling his eyes as Rebecca blabbed on.

You stifled a giggle, clenching your thighs together beneath the table and hidden from view when you felt a sudden wetness growing between your legs from his attention.

Charlie was, like usual, completely oblivious and checked out, scrolling on her phone at the table and giving her mom one word answers to every question she asked her.

The meal was delicious and you tolerated Mrs. Cameron’s lame questions about how your dad was doing, or your plans for the next semester and what classes you were going to take.

Conversations about college only made you feel depressed. Maybe it was because it was another reminder that you were growing up when you were scared to. Or perhaps it was due to the fact that acknowledging that you were still in college made you feel like more of a kid around Rafe and Rebecca.

On the other hand, sometimes you wondered if talking about it ever made Rebecca feel threatened. Did she fear her husband chasing after sorority girls and leaving her for the newest model?

You hoped that she did.

When dinner ended, Rafe stood and grabbed Charlie and Rebecca’s plates, reaching for yours as well and you shook your head.

“I want to help with the dishes tonight,” you confidently told him, hoping that Mrs. Cameron would feel bad for not stepping up before you could.

You frequently volunteered to do chores around the house when you came over, which Rafe always told you wasn’t expected or required of you, but you knew that seeing you step up in the household might make him realize all of the ways his wife was slacking.

Not to mention, it just meant more alone time with him.

The older man smiled at you, and when he thanked you you swore you felt your heart skip a beat.

In the kitchen, you claimed responsibility for scrubbing the plates before handing them off to Rafe to put in the dishwasher.

“Charlie told me that you two went on a double date last week, is that right?”

“Ha! She told you about that? Did she also tell you it ended with me dumping a milkshake on my date’s head?” You shook your head as you laughed, grabbing a sudsy fork from the sink and passing it to Mr. Cameron.

“She mentioned something like that,” he chuckled as he placed it in the dishwasher. “He must have pissed you off pretty bad, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, thinking back to the disastrous date. Charlie had meant well when she invited you out with her and her current fling, but she just didn’t understand your taste in men, and the dumb as rocks frat boy she had brought along for you had lasted all of two minutes before he began annoying you.

You just couldn’t stomach his crude humor and childish personality.

“He asked me what my favorite position was within 10 minutes of meeting me.” You dryly replied and Rafe raised his eyebrows in surprise before loudly laughing.

“Then he tried to guess my bra size like 5 times. And he was wrong. Every time!” You rolled your eyes as you giggled and Rafe laughed even harder.

You might have imagined it, but you thought you saw his eyes quickly glance down at your chest when you said “bra size,” and you desperately hoped that he was remembering seeing your tits after your top fell off.

Grabbing another plate, you handed it to him with a sigh, “I’m just so tired of dating guys my age. They’re all immature idiots.”

Rafe chuckled, “you’ll find the right one. Just got to keep trying.”

His words annoyed you. You had already found “the right one” and that was him. When he turned away to put the dish away you admired the way his muscles flexed and strained his shirt sleeve.

You felt like Mr. Cameron wasn’t listening to you at all. Maybe you needed to be a little more obvious. Perhaps he was holding himself back bc he was unsure of what your reaction would be.

“Well,” you began boldly, handing him another plate and holding your eye contact this time. “I think he might be closer than I realize. I just need to stop going out with guys my age.”

His fingers brushed yours as you passed him some silverware and you felt a thrill race up your spine. Did he do that on purpose?

Feeling cocky, you grabbed the last plate from the sink and when you passed it to him, you let your other hand fall to his bicep and you looked up at him through your lashes.

“I mean, what I really need is someone much older,” you stepped even closer to him, so near that your chests were almost touching, and you gave his bicep a little squeeze.

“Y/N…” Rafe stammered, looking into your eyes for several moments. You couldn’t breathe, so physically close to the man that you could practically hear his heartbeat thundering in his chest.

The sound of Rebecca’s voice drawing close and then the creak of the kitchen door made him flinch away from you, and you watched the plate slip out of his hand in slow motion, falling to the floor before shattering into pieces.

“Fuck-!” Rafe cursed and you quickly stepped backwards to avoid stepping on the broken shards with your bare feet.

“Rafe? What’s going on?” Rebecca asked, eyes widening when she heard and saw the dish break on the floor.

“Nothing. You just scared me, Becca,” he laughed, glancing around at the broken glass, although he was more unbothered than you due to his shoes.

“Oh sorry. Um, are you two almost finished up here? Charlie wants to watch a movie together, for the first time in weeks,” she excitedly added and you laughed inwardly at that. Of course she would be thrilled at the idea of her uninterested daughter actually wanting to do an activity with her for once.

You were sure she had only agreed to it to stop her mom’s nagging for a little bit.

“Yeah,” Rafe cleared his throat. “Just let me clean up this plate and I’ll be right in.”

Carefully watching your step to avoid the shards, you followed Mrs. Cameron as she walked out the kitchen, but you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing back when she had left your sight.

Rafe was leaning against the counter and frowning at the floor, seemingly lost in thought, but when he lifted his head before you exited and your gaze briefly connected, your cheeks flushed with heat from the hungry look in his piercing blue eyes.

#rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #dark rafe cameron #crying in the country club #citcc #older!rafe cameron x dark!reader #older!rafe cameron #rafe cameron x dark!reader #dark!rafe cameron x dark!reader #dark!rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfic #citcc!rafe cameron #citcc!rafe

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devilfic · 11 months

Text

❝late-bloomer❞

plot: you've never been kissed before. on a completely unrelated note, what if your best friend offered to be your first? pairing: tasm!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: post-tasm 2, gwen stacy mention, angst, self-deprecating thoughts about being undesirable and insecurity in love, best friends to wouldn't you like to know, eventual fluff, attempts at andrew garfield accurate rambling, he definitely talks you through it I mean who said that. words: 4.3k.

a/n: entirely self-indulgent because I wrote this after crying over being a late-bloomer for an hour ahahaha

Peter is reading something for research when you suck in a breath and finally ask, "What was your first kiss like?"

You hear his voice die in his throat. The small whispering of test results and calculations fall short, but you don't dare to look back. You're hunched forward so he won't see the way your eyes burn and brim with tears unshed because if he did, he'd ask about it and then you'd really start crying. Instead, you busy yourself with your phone, idly scrolling as if your question was pure curiosity alone.

You watch his ankles uncross, hear him sit up and then lean against the headboard again, fumbling for your train of thought, "Uh... sticky, 'cause I was six," Peter laughs, "You should know. You're the one who kissed me."

No matter how many times he tells you this, you can't remember the day you'd been so bold as to plant one right on Peter Parker's lips. You felt like you'd remember that, but you'd been such an impulsive child back them. Bolder. Thicker-skinned.

But Peter remembers, and so does Aunt May who swears up and down that she'd caught it on camera ("If only I could find that damned photo album"). You're the only one who doesn't. It's like it never happened, "No, God... no. I mean like your first real kiss."

"Like with tongue?" You hear the humor in his voice and even your sullen mood doesn't stop you from smacking his knee. "I dunno what you're talking about. That kiss was real to me."

"I'm serious, Pete."

He hums. You're so, so tempted to look back and see what he's thinking, but it would give you away too easily. "It was... it was a kiss. I mean, Gwen- you know. You know. I was crazy about her. I didn't think I just... kissed her."

"How did it feel? Do you know?"

"I felt like I needed to do it. I felt like if I didn't, I'd throw up. Not actually, just... like I'd explode with all the feelings I had for her."

Your finger hovers over a tweet. In your wondering about that feeling of almost nearly exploding, you try to picture that rooftop kiss that Peter had relayed to you between classes, with hushed whispers and childish laughter. It was windy, and I was breathless, he'd said, and I wanted to lay myself bare. And I just... pulled her in. Shot a web and swept her up and kissed her. I think I've lost my mind. You remembered pressing your back against the school lockers to cool yourself as you imagined the scene, the steps it took for you to settle the uneasy churn in the pit of your chest. The euphoria and panic upon realizing that your Peter was growing up.

You felt overwhelmed just imagining it. You barely hear Peter ask why you want to know. "No reason. Was just curious."

You think that Peter accepts that as good enough reason because the room is silent again. You keep scrolling, keep taking subtle deep breaths to keep the tears at bay. You see a picture of a couple on your timeline and scroll faster.

A few minutes of peace pass before Peter broaches the subject again, "What about you?"

"Hm?"

"I don't think you've ever told me about your first kiss."

Your shoulders tense. No good effort hides the strain in your voice, "I haven't?"

A beat passes. You glance over your shoulder and see Peter staring right at you, his lips upturned in a small, resting smile, but his eyes are inquiring. He's trying to read you. Perhaps he's just noticed the heavy cloud hanging overhead. "Nope." He pops the "P". He's waiting.

You could lie. You could say it was Flash Thompson who stole it, mention that field trip to the zoo in middle school when he'd sneaked next to you at the peacock exhibit and pestered you about you and Peter. Peter wouldn't question Flash about it. Even if they'd made amends, any conversation about him would send him over the edge with memories of his childhood bully and how much he pitied you for having your first kiss with him. And all of you were far too old now; Flash Thompson had gone to another state to play football the minute he got his diploma. It'd be so inconsequential, such an easy lie.

But the longer it takes you to deliberate on it, the worse it makes you look. You should've offered up an answer easily, jovially, unbothered. It should be inconsequential. Anything more and Peter would call your bluff because he knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes.

At some point, you feel the brush of a lone finger at the base of your spine and it startles you. Peter's slipped his finger under your shirt, stroking along the middle of your back, "I won't laugh. If that's what you're thinking." He says softly.

Of course Peter wouldn't laugh at you. As much as your relationship was teasing, he knew where you were tender.

But it wasn't laughing you worried about.

"I know." You say, in lieu of a real answer. You fear you've given yourself away.

Now there are two fingers stroking your skin, "You don't... you don't have to tell me, if you don't want to," but you can hear the discomfort in his voice when he says it, like the thought that it's something you don't want to tell him concerns him, "it's up to you."

Just lie. Your breath shudders and immediately you regret it. There's no way he hadn't heard that.

Before you can recover, you're feeling the heat of his entire hand on your back now as it slips further up, as he sits up in bed beside you and rests his chin on your shoulder. The closeness of his breath makes you feel claustrophobic all of a sudden, "Hey, hey. I'm sorry. Did I push? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

You struggle to shake your head, but now your eyes are burning again and you don't think you can stop the tears this time, "You didn't." You insist.

"You're crying, bub," he laughs (not mockingly, never mockingly, never when you cry) and reaches a thumb up to brush away the first warm tear, "what's wrong?"

There's a million things you could say. I've never been kissed before, I don't know what it feels like to be longed for like that, I want to be longed for like that, why haven't I been longed for like that? But it all feels so heavy. Peter picks his chin up to kiss your shoulder and that really does it, "It never happened."

Peter's lips still against your skin. Their warmth slowly peels away, though you feel his breath ghost over the curve of your bone, "What hasn't?"

"A kiss. A first kiss, Peter. I've never had one."

"That's..." Peter sounds almost shocked, disbelieving. He never picks up that thought.

You turn your head away and toss your phone onto the bed, no longer interested in pretending you could distract yourself with anything else. You try to shrug your shoulder out from underneath Peter's mouth but he's quick, the hand at your back locking around you and you can't escape him even though you want to, even though you need to get away from his sweet smile and lovely heartbeat that thuds a little faster against your side.

It was already so much to tell him you hadn't had your first kiss yet, to admit to your best friend who—despite popular Midtown High opinion—has always been so irresistible to lovers, that you haven't gone as far as something so... simple. Something teenagers running your old stomping grounds have probably experienced ten times over by now. You don't think you can handle his pity too, "Peter, please."

"There's nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. Everyone moves at their own pace."

You hiss through your teeth. You don't mean to, but the spite overwhelms you like red hot heat for a minute, "It's easy to say that when you've done it already."

You catch Peter's eye and immediately regret it. His untamed brows are drawn together, expression more analyzing than pitying. Even though you're brimming with feelings, he seems as if he's trying to wade through them, search for the gnarled root at the center of it all.

Then, and he says this so carefully that the meaning takes a moment to catch up with you, "There's nothing wrong with you."

It's the sincerity that does it. You shove his hand off of you, jerk away from him in a scramble to stand, but Peter is fast and lithe and he's always been two steps ahead of you even before the bite. He's up on his feet before even you are, coming to stand in your way when you go to grab for your bag, "Peter, move."

"Look, can we... can we talk about this?"

"I really don't want to. Move."

"Why are you shutting me out?"

"Because I want to go home. Move."

"Is it because of what I said?"

"Yes!" You blurt, growing frustrated the longer he blocks your path, "yes. Because I'm sick of being told there's nothing wrong with me when clearly..." Your voice tapers off, afraid to give him the reason he needs to worry about you, "Please. I'm just tired. It'll go away on its own, it always does, I just can't be here right now."

The standoff between you two lingers, feels like you might have to fight him just to escape. It takes everything in you just to keep eye contact with him and not burst into tears.

Peter clearly doesn't want to let you go. You can see that genius brain of his running every possible scenario in his mind in which he convinces you to stay, cry it out, leave happier than you came. None of them come soon enough. You brush past him when he realizes he's got nothing, and even the hand that grabs for you is halfhearted, shrugged off with little force.

"I'll see you later, Pete."

You let his front door shut on its own.

It hasn't been great.

What typically took a few hours to shake off had settled over you like a dark cloud ever since you'd stormed out of Peter's place. Even though you texted him like everything was fine (and dodged any phone calls so he wouldn't hear the truth with those freakishly good best friend senses of his), you had yet to see him again. Had yet to let yourself be seen.

You told yourself that it was just you missing Peter, and you believed that to be true, but you also believed that when he looked you in the eye and told you "there's nothing wrong with you", you hadn't been prepared for the nakedness of it all. He'd dug deep, right to the source. That kind of thing was hard to move past.

So you avoided him. If he came by your place, you pretended you weren't home. If he showed up at your work to take you to coffee, you lied and told him you had plans with a coworker. It had been several days now and you felt more and more cowardly by the minute.

It was Peter. Of all people, it was Peter. Your best friend. You could tell him anything (most things, some kept a little closer to the heart). You should be able to.

And it was silly. Being embarrassed about not kissing anyone. Plenty of people were in the same boat as you and they didn't ice their best friend out about it.

Ugh, now you were just making yourself feel worse.

You'd had enough. You'd end this pity party today. As you make your way through your apartment door, you promise yourself that after you've showered, after you've made yourself a filling dinner, after you've settled into bed, you'd call Peter and ask him to meet for pizza this weekend. You'd talk like civil adults who understand that life isn't a race. You'd share your couch, laugh about the whole thing, and maybe, just maybe, the hollowness in your chest that longed for someone's desire to fill it would finally-

He's sitting in your kitchen.

Legs dangling off the island, mask rolled up to his nose, and a spoon clattering out of his mouth and into a bowl of ice cream. Your front door shuts gently behind you.

You stare at each other for a few seconds. Then you glance through your bedroom door, cracked open just enough for you to see the breeze rustling your curtains. You turn back to Peter, who's cleaning off his bottom lip of raspberry sorbet. "Did you climb through the window? You have a key."

Peter sets the bowl down beside him, shrugs, "You weren't returning my calls."

Your shoulders sag and you drop your things to the floor, "Peter-"

"No, no," you watch him slide off the countertop and bounce over to you, and the nearness you aren't prepared for makes you back away an inch or two, "No Peter. I'm not Peter. I'm Spider-Man. See?" He gestures to the suit.

You reach your hand up and pinch his exposed cheek, then narrowly avoid his teeth before he tries to nip you, "I'm not in the mood. I said I'd call you later, I'm just... busy."

"Busy avoiding your best friend."

You can feel him trail after you as you walk away, beginning to undress. He catches your coat when you throw it toward the couch and hangs it up all neat on a hook. He kicks your shoes to a wall and tugs your belt from your fingertips once you've undone it. Then, unexpectedly, he hooks said belt around your waist and yanks you back to face him.

The momentum throws you fully into his chest but he's sturdy, unmoving as you grip his shoulders and give him the most hostile look you can muster. You attempt to wiggle out of the trap but he pulls the belt tighter, forcing you closer, and then you start to panic as the space between you both disappears, "I haven't been avoiding you, I just needed space." You quickly explain.

"And I get that," he admits, "but you scared me. I've never seen you like that before. Not with me. Not ever."

Of course he hadn't. It was why you kept all of this a secret in the first place. Because you knew he'd worry, and you knew that there would be nothing he could do to fix it. Not like he usually could.

"It was a... brief lapse in self-esteem. That's all. You're making it into a bigger deal than it should be."

"It's not a big deal?"

"No! That's what I keep trying to tell you."

"So it doesn't matter at all."

"Correct."

"Right."

"It's just an arbitrary milestone that means nothing." You grip the leather of your belt but you're nothing against his superhuman strength. Pleading with your eyes, you do your best not to slip back into that vulnerable place all over again. Peter made you feel safe to do that. Way too safe to do that. "I promise. I'm not avoiding you."

You get sick of staring into the whites of his mask and so you grab the edge of it and pull it up to his hairline, little tufts of curls poking out as his face is fully revealed to you. You stare into those sharp, probing eyes of his, forcing yourself to stand the test of Peter Parker's perception.

Suddenly, you're released.

You stumble back a bit, the belt clanking against the floor, as Peter throws his arms up in defeat, "Alright, alright. I get it. I should've let you breathe the other night. I was just worried, is all."

You smile, "And I appreciate that."

Peter quickly glances at you and then away, making an exaggerated show of kicking imaginary dust off the floor. "First kisses really mean nothing then, huh?"

"Zilch. Nada."

"So... doesn't matter when it is, who it is..."

You watch him carefully, "If this is about when we were six-"

"No, no, I know that didn't count. You don't even remember it," his face contorts in a wince, "I was just thinking. Something."

Your eyes narrow, "Uh-huh."

"Well, I mean, is that why? Because you don't remember it? Or... is it because it was me?"

"The kiss?" Peter blows a raspberry, looking more bashful by the second, and nods without looking at you. "It's... it's because we were six. And we didn't know what we were doing. I was just mimicking what we saw. We didn't know anything."

"And now we do."

"Yeah. What are you getting at, Pete?"

He sits on the back of your couch and kicks his feet out in front of him. "If all that matters is that we both know what we're doing, and a first kiss is just a meaningless milestone to you, then I thought that maybe we could give it another go. You know. So when a real kiss comes along that actually means something, you'll have an idea of how it's supposed to go."

You're six years old again.

You and Peter Parker are sitting in the dirt, mouths covered in sticky ice cream that the summer sun melted right up. You're both talking about Flash Thompson's trip to Florida and the hilarious sunburn he came back with when you spot an elderly couple across the park, pressing their mouths together over and over.

You're looking over at Peter and asking about it, sure it couldn't possibly feel good, and he's telling you that when Uncle Ben kisses May good morning in the kitchen he always looks away because it's gross.

And you're thinking... you start thinking something.

You're thinking it would be funny—that Peter would hate you for it, but you're just so curious—and you're pressing your lips to his so quickly that he doesn't get a chance to pull back before you're giggling in the grass. And May's voice flutters in the background, a shrill and delighted, "I caught that!" that makes you both turn tail and run toward the swings.

Peter's still staring at you, waiting.

Part of you feels like it's pity. Like he doesn't want you to feel bad about yourself. Like he doesn't know how else to fix it, because he has to fix it. He has to fix everything. He has to be your hero.

But the other part? A restless and selfish part wants to take it; it's curious.

You take a step forward, the two of you watching each other, waiting to see if the other might back out at the last second. He stays exactly where he is, legs parting slowly, and the silent invitation makes you feel hot under the collar.

When you're standing between them, you feel his knees bump your legs on either side, his hands planted firmly into the couch cushions. You notice the grip he has on them, "Are you sure?" You pause.

Peter tilts his head in that strange, spider-like way. As if he cannot fathom why would you ask such a thing, "Of course. I'm the one who offered."

Your hands shake as they consider where to put themselves, and you get about halfway to his shoulders before he takes them and places them on either side of his face, mumbling something about how it might help you feel more in control, quell your nerves a bit.

Peter's cheeks feel so warm in your hands, and you can feel each swallow he makes the longer you take in his expression. "Should... I move in first? Or..."

He laughs, short and high-pitched, "I guess I can go first."

You know you're supposed to close your eyes, but as he comes in close, you can't help but keep them lidded, taking in every twitch of his mouth as he inclines his neck, shuts his eyes, and kisses you.

Your brain reacts a half-second after his lips touch yours. You've probably stopped breathing, and you have to force your lips to unstiffen so that you could actually feel him. His lips are a little wet—he'd been rolling his bottom lip between his teeth since he'd sat down—and they taste faintly of raspberry. They're not cold though, and the feeling isn't unpleasant.

You don't know how to react to it, don't know if you should move or not, and so instead you curl your fingers into the silk of his nape and wait for the pounding in your chest to stop.

You feel him mouth at your bottom lip just once, and then pull back. "How'd that feel?"

You recall the sensations that went through your brain (all that it can recall anyway, when Peter's looking at you like that), "Slimy...?"

Peter's face falls, and then he bursts into laughter, shakes with the force of it, and drops his head on your shoulder. "There's got to be a better word than that."

"I don't know! I was just thinking about the feeling."

"I don't want to know what it felt like, I want to know how it made you feel. Did you like it? Hate it?"

"I don't know. I'm- I'm nervous."

"Hey, that's okay," his hand rubs your hip, warming the skin there, and you find yourself leaning into it for comfort, "everyone is their first time."

Peter is so, so gentle. Your heart feels like it might give out, but a little less now that it's over and he's not looking at you in disgust. You don't know what you expected, but... this was better. By far. That part of you that felt selfish takes over again, "Can we try again?"

His eyes widen a bit, but he's immediately nodding, "Okay. Yeah. Okay. We can try as- as many times as you want."

You nearly choke on your spit. "Can we?" Your voice comes out a meek whisper.

Peter nods. He brings his legs in so that he's sitting properly now. "Of course. You wanna move me? I can sit somewhere else. Or you can sit if you want."

"No, I like you here," you say, feeling your stomach tighten when his thighs lock against your legs, "um. Is there anything I can work on? How did I feel?"

"Warm. Soft. Just try to loosen up, alright?"

You force yourself to release the tension in your body and move in first this time. Images of rom-com kisses flood your brain, how you memorized their rhythms and the placement of their mouths. You try your best to mimic it, make it feel as good as it seemed to look, when you feel one of Peter's hands slip behind your head and angle you away just a hair, "You're tensing up," he warns, making you pause, "it doesn't have to be perfect. It's just you and me. Breathe for me, okay? Turn your brain off."

You feel your stomach flip a bit, and nod along mindlessly. You try again.

This time, it feels a little different. Not wet or stiff, even if it is still awkward. It almost overwhelms you when, as you're mouthing at Peter's lip, he returns the favor, but you keep your brain empty. You can't focus on the details because it won't feel right. You can't focus on the way it looks because it won't feel right.

So you focus on Peter. You focus on the hand on your hip drawing you closer and the hand on your neck rubbing circles into the knot there. You focus on the feeling of his suit under your pinkies. You focus on the small hum he makes when, with quite a bit of building up to it, you pass your tongue over his.

Almost as soon as you do it, you pull back. Peter is flushed and it makes the beauty marks on his skin stand out more. His eyelashes flutter, a half-smile on his lips that are kissed red. By you.

You open your mouth to ask but he beats you to it, "I think you've got it now... yeah. Definitely." You're so relieved you sigh, sagging away from him, but he catches your hands before they can can leave his face completely and holds them in his lap. You don't dare move them. "How about you? Did you like it?"

You nod, speechless.

Peter laughs and squeezes your hands in his, "Okay, good. Good. I love you, you know? I know it doesn't... replace what you're looking for, but you're wonderful. You're insane and funny and stunning and there's nothing wrong... you know? You're perfect. Take it from your loser best friend who had to get bit by a radioactive spider to get to first base."

You snort, "I mean, if that's all it takes..."

Peter shakes his head and stands, but his hand remains on your neck as you follow his eyes to his full height, "So, we good? No more ignoring me?" You bite your lip, nodding your head. Peter smiles. "Good, cause I'm starving and I need you to split a pizza with me."

"You just polished off a tub of ice cream and you're still hungry?"

"I'm a growing spider, honey. And I missed you." Without warning, the hand on your hip hooks around your back and hoists you into his body, throwing you off balance once more, "I'll swing us there and cover cheese sticks too. Sound good?"

You know you don't have much room to argue when he's being so generous. And not when he's beaming at you, so genuinely relieved to have you back that it would knock you off your feet if he wasn't holding you up.

He was right; this wouldn't replace what you were looking for, but it gets pretty damn close. Closer than you expected, actually. But it's just the adrenaline. This didn't change anything.

Did it? You stare up at Peter.

"We can try as many times as you want."

You might have a very different problem than you started with.

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes

#peter parker x reader #peter parker scenarios #peter parker imagines #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman scenarios #spiderman imagines #spiderman fic #spiderman fluff #spiderman angst #andrew garfield #spider-man #marvel #mjwrites #tasm

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visenyaism · 3 months

Text

house of the dragon characters ranked by how good of a guest judge i personally think they would be on drag race🙂‍↕️

19. ser criston cole- gets a reverse glaad award for most homophobic thing ever said on television.

18. alicent hightower- would cry.

17. aemond- would do a little better post-alys rivers but it’s still looking pretty dire. hates camp despite dressing like an anime villain every day. criston raised him.

16. otto hightower- openly homophobic but clearly strangely familiar with drag race and knows what he’s talking about

15. helaena- shes sweet but I think it would be hard to get her to focus and also she might accidentally prophesy the winner. don’t really think it would be her thing she’s not really a fashion or prolonged social interaction person.

14. aegon- funny and cool until the exact instant he is extremely NOT.

13. corlys- does alright on his own but he’s clearly a little uncomfortable the whole time. if they let him bring his wife it’s a good time.

12. rhaenyra’s brunette sons- raised too right by their mom they would just respectfully clap and cheer and say “i think she looks nice” about everyone.

11. larys strong- weird and off-putting but bizarrely accurate reads.

10. ser harwin strong- could handle they/them pussy could handle being a guest judge. solid pick. episode gets significant backlash from the flea bottom community for inviting essentially the chief of police on though.

9. the crabfeeder- gay people love the crabfeeder.

8. mysaria- possesses the skillset to be very good at guest judging like she’s very established and known among the flea bottom queens but she’s seen it all and is a bit over it.

7. laena- from what little we saw of her she is witty and vivacious and passionate that’s a pretty high score.

6. viserys- don’t know how he feels about gay people but he DOES love pageantry and serving targaryen realness.

5. laenor- very very fun. even better if he gets to bring his boyfriend or rhaenyra.

4. rhaenyra- shes a little shy but once she opens up she is phenomenal. The Rhaenyra/Laenor guest judge episode woudlve been so excellent it would have bought them enough good PR to win the throne in less than 36 hours.

3. dragon twins- they got daemon’s mean streak plus laena’s sparkle i think they would KILL it.

2. daemon targaryen- crazy bisexual man on adderall. took rhaenyra to a rhaenyra-themed drag show when he was trying to groom her so i guess he’s with it. is at least entertaining to watch. thinks he can reclaim.

1. rhaenys- would absolutely CLEAR she is bitchy in just the right way and would clearly be having the time of her life. let her commentate on more things.

#hotd #i guess i have to be team black now huh.#asoiaf #there u go will it’s my unimpeachable ranking

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abigails-gf · 5 months

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abby x fem pregnant (and then mom) reader plss

abby anderson x f!reader.

warnings: brief mention of IUI (insemination), reader is pregnant, brief mention of sickness, labor/delivery, some postpartrum baby blues.

a/n: hi! i'm so sorry for taking so long to write this one. i had to do some research for all of this since i've never been pregnant, so i'm sorry if it's not accurate, i guess? i tried my best. i'm super proud of it though, and i hope you all enjoy it too. this one is pretty long, around 6k words. maybe my longest fic? honestly, mama!abby might be my favourite version of abigail. 🫶🏻🫧🫧 she's just so sweet and caring. i love her so, so much. thank you all for the support! thank you. i hope you all like this one. ♡

you and abby had been wanting a baby for a long time. you'd seen multiple doctors, talked to nurses, got a bunch of blood tests, saw files of potential donors...

until the day finally came — around two weeks after the insemination, you had decided to take a pregnancy test. your period was late and the doctor had suggested you to do so. abby went to the pharmacy and got you a pregnancy test. you closed the bathroom door behind you, abby on the other side. a few minutes later, you washed your hands and opened the bathroom door.

abby closed the toilet lid and sat on top of it, pulling you onto her lap. you held the test in your hand. you two waited in silence, waiting to see the second line appear. abby had her arms around you, squeezing you.

suddenly, you squealed. "oh my fucking god!" you and abby looked at the test quietly before she started to tear up. she hugged you tightly, crying into your arms as you started to cry too, looking down at the test. "can't believe it..." she whispered, taking another look at the positive test. "we're gonna be parents." you turned your head a little, facing abby who smiled at you, her cheeks flushed, tears in her eyes. "oh, baby..." you kissed her. "i love you so much. love you so so much." you kissed her lips, cheeks, nose, eyes. everywhere. she chuckled and kissed you softly. "i'm so happy, baby. so happy you're gonna carry our baby." her eyes fell to your stomach. "there's a little guy in there", she sniffled.

she took a few days off, to come with you to the first ultrasound. the doctor applied the gel on your stomach. abby was standing next to you, squeezing your hand.

"ah. there they are... see that little white ball, here?" the doctor spoke in a gentle voice, pointing at the screen as she moved the transducer on your stomach. "see it?" she looked at you. your eyes were fixed on the screen. you could barely see it – see them, your baby. but oh, how you cried. the doctor smiled as abby hugged you, kissing your head. you looked up at the doctor and apologised. she let you and abby alone in her office.

abby took your face in her hands, caressing your cheeks. "we're gonna be mamas, baby", abby spoke, your foreheads touching. "yeah, we are." you looked into her blue eyes. "i love you s'much, angel. my pretty girl. mama of my kid." she kissed you, feeling you smile against her lips.

weeks passed by and abby was still so supportive. you both had noticed the changes in your body: the way your favorite jeans and the bra abby got you for your anniversary didn't fit so well anymore, the little belly bump being more visible. and the way you complained about feeling sore, tired... abby gave you massages each night before bed.

she sat behind you in bed, put some essentials oils on her hands before placing them between your neck and shoulders, softly applying pressure. "oh, god..." you let out. she smiled as she massaged your shoulders.

her hands started to travel to your front, as she massaged your breasts. you had been complaining about them hurting. she held them in her big hands, oiling them. you pressed your back to abby's chest, letting out sighs of contentment. "feels good, honey?" you nodded, eyes closed as she started to play with your nipples. she kissed your neck before massaging your boobs some more. she then let her hands fall on your stomach, rubbing your small bump. you opened your eyes and smiled at her. she looked into your eyes and smiled as she caressed your stomach. "so pretty, mama", she whispered, kissing your shoulder, her eyes on your stomach. you looked at her big hands on it. what a pretty sight, you thought.

she did this for the entirety of the pregnancy, even massaging your feet when you complained about how sore they felt. she made sure to cater to all your needs.

when you started feeling sick, she was there for you, she'd wake up at the crack of dawn to check on you, hold your hair if needed. she had taken notes on what helped with sickness and had gotten you a "snack box" which rested on your nightstand. it contained crackers, ginger candies and other goods. she always made sure you drank water and ate throughout the day.

even when she was at work, she called you to make sure you were alright. "how's my girl doing? you know, mel said fruits helped with her sickness when she was pregnant. can you check if we still have some? i'll go to the market after work if not."

you two would go to the mall on weekends, starting to prepare for the baby. you'd gasp over how small the clothes are. "baby! look, it's so small!" you said, holding a pair of shorts or socks. she'd smile and let you put the pair of socks in the cart. abby had picked a few clothes for the baby as well – since you two didn't know the sex yet, you decided to pick things that would fit them no matter what the sex was. she picked some overalls, some bodysuits. "honey, look. isn't that one cute?" she said, picking up a shark plushie. you smiled. "aww, put it in!" you said. she kissed your cheek, putting it in the cart. "love you and our little shark."

as for the nursery, you two decided to keep it simple for now. you had a spare room in your apartment. you and abby decided to leave the walls white, she hung up pictures of you two on the wall just above the crib that she had built. "baby? you okay if we put this picture of my mom here?" she asked, bringing in a photograph of her late mother. "sure, we could put it on the dresser?" abby put the frame with her mother's picture next to a bouquet of tulips. she turned around and hugged you. "thank you, sweetheart." you hugged her back. "hey, are you alright?" you rubbed her back as she hugged you tightly. she sighed.

"yeah." she pulled away, taking a deep breath. "just wish she was here, is all." you smiled softly and caressed her cheek. "honey... your mom would be so proud of you, i'm sure." she held your hand against her cheek. "i know, i know. i just wish she could meet our kid, be there. you know?" you nodded. "i know, baby. i know."

suddenly, you felt a kick in your stomach. "what's wrong?" another kick. you looked up at abby and smiled. "the baby, it's kicking." you took her hand and rested it on your belly, waiting for the next kick. your hand resting above hers as the baby kicked once more. abby got on her knees, putting both hands on your stomach. you smiled down at her. "hey there, little guy. or girl." another small kick. you both chuckled, looking into each other's eyes, standing in the baby's nursery. abby kissed your belly. "so excited to meet them. so thankful for you, baby." she squeezed your hand.

abby had taken a day off to come with you to your 20 weeks ultrasound. she sat on a chair next to the bed as the doctor put the gel on your belly. "let's see..." she spoke, putting the transducer on your cold stomach. as soon as she did so, the sound of a heartbeat came out of the sonogram. you gasped. "oh my god. is that the baby's heartbeat?" the doctor smiled and nodded. "mhm, that it is." you looked at abby. "that's our baby's heartbeat", you whispered. she squeezed your hand tightly, looking at the screen. you could see the shape of the baby's head, their little nose, and tiny legs curled up. you cried. "they're healthy, all is good, mamas." the doctor moved the transducer to the side, up on your belly. she spoke. "do you guys wanna know the sex?" you and abby looked at each other. "do you want to?" you asked abby. she shrugged. "it honestly doesn't matter to me, i'll love them either way." you smiled and abby kissed your head. "then, no." the doctor nodded and wiped the gel off your stomach.

"would it be possible to have a copy of this ultrasound? like, two of them?" abby asked. "sure, just wait here." the doctor left the room and came back a few minutes later with an envelope containing the scans.

you put your copy of ultrasounds in a photo album, along with the first scans you did months ago. abby had kept one of the photos in her wallet and given the others to her father.

she was the sweetest. you were so lucky to have someone like her by your side, to share your life with her, so lucky to have her be the mother of your child. you wanted to thank her, show her how grateful you were, how much you loved her.

you had planned a date night – a picnic, as the days started to get warmer, longer.

you started to prepare the picnic. preparing peanut butter sandwiches, some carrots to munch on, crackers and fruits. you put a blanket first in the basket, then the food, two wine glasses, some water and the bottle of sparkling apple juice that was in your fridge. you got ready, chose something you'd be comfortable in for the evening. abby and you went shopping for maternity clothes, so you had new clothes to wear. you finished getting ready, smiling at your reflection in the mirror. your bump was now the size of a watermelon, as you entered your sixth month.

you made the bed, picking up something from under it, which you've been hiding for a few months.

abby came home around 7pm. "baby, i'm home!" she looked at the full basket in the kitchen and walked to your bedroom. "pretty girl, hi", she said, hugging you. "what's going on?" she whispered. "thought we could go picnic tonight? a date?" abby smiled and nodded. "so sweet t'me, baby." she lifted your chin up and kissed you softly.

abby drove you two to a park. it was a pretty warm evening. she carried the basket until you found a spot near a tree, the sun beaming through its branches.

you helped abby lay down the blanket. "here, sit, baby." you two sat down next to each other and started getting the food out of the basket. you stayed quiet for a few minutes, enjoying this peaceful moment. "thank you, abby." you broke the silence, looking at her. she looked so pretty, the golden hour resting on her face, making her eyes sparkle. "thank me for what?" she asked, popping some berries in her mouth.

"for being here. for taking care of me, for being the absolute best girlfriend ever." you took her hand in yours and looked into her eyes. "i love you." she kissed your forehead. "i love you more, baby. love you so so much, sweet girl. no need to thank me, i should be the one thanking you. you're carrying my kid, already the best mama in the world. prettiest girl, sweetest girl in the world." you kissed her softly.

you reached for something in the basket, hidden by the tissues. you left abby's hand and looked down at your hands, they were shaking. abby was eating a strawberry, looking ahead. "abby?" she was about to answer, when she looked at your hands. she almost choked on the fruit. "baby?"

"abby, will you marry me?"

you opened the small velvet box, revealing a wedding ring. abby started to cry. "baby... is that..." you nod. "your mother's ring, yes. your dad wanted you to have it." you felt tears on your cheeks, smiling brightly, waiting for abby's answer. "baby, fucking yes, yes, yes!" she chuckled and cupped your cheeks, kissing you lovingly. "of course, i want to marry you." you put the ring on her finger. you wiped her tears as she wiped yours. she brought your foreheads together and smiled. "i love you so fucking much. swear, you're the best girl ever. my wife." she couldnt stop smiling. "my wife, mama of my kid, my sweet girl, love of my life." you giggled and kissed her soft lips.

you two spent the evening at the park, in each other's arms. abby rubbed your stomach, smiling at how big it's gotten. "can't believe it. how did i get so lucky, huh?" she kissed your forehead.

abby's father, jerry, invited you both for dinner one night, to celebrate his daughter's engagement. you and abby were seating on the sofa, abby's hand on your thigh. "i'm so proud of you, sweetheart", jerry said, coming back from the kitchen. he smiled at his daughter and hugged her. "your mother would be so proud, too. i can't believe my baby's gonna be a mother and gettin' married." jerry started to tear up. abby smiled. "dad, don't cry. c'mon."

"happy tears, sweetheart, happy tears", he reassured her. he pulled away from abby and looked at you. "told you she'd say yes." you chuckled. "i know. but there was still a tiny part of me that was scared of a no."

abby looked at you and raised an eyebrow. "really? you're carrying our kid and you expected me to say no? really, baby?" she kissed you. "silly girl." jerry smiled at the sight of you, wiping his tears. he looked at abby's ring finger. abby noticed his staring and looked into his eyes. "thank you for this, dad. you sure you don't wanna keep it?" jerry shook his head. "it's yours, sweetheart. plus, i still got mine to remind me of when your mother was mine - that she is mine." abby hugged her dad tightly and sat back down next to you.

jerry thanked you for carrying his grandchild and making his daughter happy. he even gifted you abby's childhood stuffed animal: a zebra. "thank you, honey. for making abs so happy, for being there for her when i can't. you're a real sweetheart. but i'm sure she tells you that everyday, huh?" you smiled and hugged him. "and you call me if you need anything, okay?"

only a few weeks were left before your due date. abby had gotten used to you waking up in pain, your pelvic hurting and back too. you shook her arm, trying to wake her up. you felt guilty for doing so, but she told you to wake her up whenever the pain was too much for you. "mmh, what is it, baby?" she stretched and opened her eyes. she turned on the bedside lamp and looked at you.

"it hurts." you took deep breaths, trying to calm down. "it's okay, baby. just lay back down, lay down." she helped you, putting the pillow under your head, holding your hand. "deep breaths. that's it, good girl." she rubbed your stomach with her free hand as you hissed at the contractions. laying between your legs, hovering over your belly, abby kissed it. "just lay down for me, baby. deep breaths." you relaxed a little as abby started to caress your stomach. "stay here, pretty girl. just gonna get you some water."

she came back a few minutes later with a bottle of water and sat at the edge of the bed, next to you. "sit up for me and open." abby brought the bottle to your lips and made you drink. "good." she put the bottle on the nightstand and laid back down next to you, rubbing circles on your stomach. "how do you feel now?" the contractions had calmed.

"better. thanks to you." she smiled and kissed your temple. "yeah? come here, sweet girl." she wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer, spooning you. her other hand on your stomach, continuing its soothing motions. "sorry for waking you up", you apologised. she kissed your neck. "shh, s'alright, mama. told you to tell me if you need anything."

you slowly drifted off to sleep in your wife's arms.

during the last weeks, abby had taken days off here and there, to be by your side. "but what if you go into labor while i'm at work?" that was her worry.

she helped you prepare your hospital bag – packing comfy clothes, sweatpants, pyjamas for you and the baby. toileteries, some essential oils, diapers and things for the baby. she also put the plushies for the baby, but also for you, if you needed some comfort.

thankfully, the day you went into labor was her day off.

you two were on the couch, abby had prepared your favorite for lunch. you were watching a movie, her hand on your stomach as you ate. the plate was balanced on your belly. you were about to put the plate on the coffee table when suddenly you felt something damp. at first, you had thought you peed yourself – which happened once during the last month. you looked at abby and stood up, looking at your seat, feeling the liquid trickling between your thighs. abby looked up at you. "baby, i think your water's breaking", she said calmly. you were in a state of shock, not moving.

abby stood up and put her hands on your shoulders. "baby, look at me. look at me, sweet girl." you did as she told you. "we're gonna get you changed, and then, we'll drive to the hospital. okay?" you nodded.

abby took you to the bathroom and helped you put on a diaper. abby could tell you were anxious and embarrassed. "baby, it's alright. i'm here, i'm here", she reassured you, taking off your soaked clothes. "arms up, baby", she said, helping you get dressed. she seemed so calm compared to you. she kissed your head.

"we'll be okay. promise."

she went to the bedroom and picked up your hospital bag. she helped you put your shoes on.

"come on, baby." she opened the door and took your hand, pulling you out of the house. you stayed close to her, hugging her as she walked you to the car.

in the car, she had her hand on your stomach. "it's alright, baby. deep breaths", she said as you started to have contractions. you listened to her, trying to focus on your breathing.

as you arrived to the hospital, abby held you, an arm wrapped around you. "my wife's going into labor", she said to the secretary at the entrance.

you were laying on a hospital bed, wearing a hospital gown as abby sat next to you. you squeezed her hand whenever you felt your stomach contract. "abs, it hurts so much." you said, on the verge of tears. "i know, baby. but you're doing so good. they said you were already 5cm dilated." she kissed your head.

you two had been sitting here for a two hours already. abby tried her best to reassure you, help you. she massaged your shoulders, helped you off the bed when you needed to go to the bathroom, tried to distract you from the pain by talking.

she put a wet cloth on your forehead and caressed your belly. "you're doin' so good, baby. keep on taking deep breaths." she kissed your cheek as you tried to focus on her voice.

"you're doing a good job, just a little more", the obstetrician said between your legs. you were sweating, letting out grunts as you pushed. "slow and long push, come on."

abby let you bite her fingers and squeeze her hand. "you can do it, sweetheart. think of the baby, how happy you'd be holding them in." she kept on patting the wet cloth on your face, caressing your hand.

one last push.

you were out of breath, tired, exhausted, your ears were ringing, your eyes almost closing. but screams woke you up. you flashed your eyes open and looked at the midwife who put the baby in your arms.

as soon as they were in your arms, they stopped crying. their skin covered in white vernix, eyes shut, small fingers moving toward yours. the baby wrapped their small fingers around yours. you started to sob.

you looked at abby, who was crying. she smiled down at you and the baby. "it's our baby," you whispered, looking back down. the midwife wiped the baby a bit, giving you a warm towel to hold them with. "it's a girl, congratulations", she said, smiling at you and abby. "a girl", you repeated.

abby kissed your cheek and your head. "love you and her so much." she cried, her lips against your cheek.

you looked at your daughter, her small hand wrapped around your fingers, the way she looked at you and abby – you were sure there was no greater feeling than this. abby put one of her fingers in front of your newborn, who wrapped her other tiny hand around abby's finger. "hey, sweet girl", she spoke in a soft voice.

"she's so small", she whispered. you smiled. "mhm, but ain't she adorable?" abby nodded and kissed your head. "just like her mama."

a total of 6 hours had passed since abby and you entered the hospital. the sun was slowly setting down. it had been an hour since your daughter was born, she was sucking on your nipple. abby watched you two from her chair.

you looked at her. "thank you for being here, abby. wouldn't have done it without you."

"no, thank you. thank you for being here, for being my wife, for giving birth to our daughter." she kissed your head and looked down at your daughter. "prettiest baby girl, there is." abby couldn't help but grin as she caressed your daughter's face.

"her skin is so soft." the baby moved her face towards abby. "let me hold her", abby said, carefully picking the baby up, making her scrunch her legs. you felt tears running down your cheeks at the sight.

"i'm so scared to move, she's so small." abby chuckled. your daughter in the crook of her big arms, she had her eyes closed, her little chest rising up and down. she was wearing a footie pyjama with different kinds of sharks that abby had picked and a little beanie. abby couldn't peel her eyes off your daughter. "she's so pretty. so small, so soft. and so, so cute. just like her mama." she looked back at you.

"thank you, baby. thank you for being the best wife i could ever ask for." you grinned as abby came closer to you, leaning down to quickly kiss your lips. "i love you, i love you and our daughter more than anything."

the first weeks back home were hard. you had some days were you could barely get up, stayed in bed and only held the baby for her meals or when she was asleep. abby would bottle feed your daughter if you were asleep, or when she woke up during the night. "baby, you don't have to do it. i can feed her, just wake me up", you've told her multiple times.

she walked around your room, bottle in hand, baby in her arms. "shush, mama. you gotta rest. i got it", she reassured you. you looked at your wife and your daughter, who was sucking vigorously on the bottle's nipple.

abby held your daughter against her, gently tapping her back until she heard a small burp. you giggled and abby smiled at you. "cute burp, isn't it?"

abby was there for you and the baby. she took care of you while the baby was napping, giving you massages, preparing you baths, make you lunch. she made sure you felt loved; always reminding you throughout the day how grateful she was to have you in her life.

once, you had sent her to get some diapers and she came back with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. "i love you, sweetheart." she kissed your head as you were holding the baby, walking around the house. you smiled and kissed her back. "i love you too, abby."

another night, you had woken up to abby's side of the bed being empty. it was early in the morning, still dark outside. you heard some whispers coming from the nursery. you got up and walked to the room.

the door was opened, the night light casting a blue hue in the room. you could see abby sitting on the armchair, not wearing anything on top, holding your daughter in her arms. abby's braid fell on her shoulder, the baby's hand on her naked chest. abby looked up as she heard your steps. she smiled. you walked to abby's chair and kissed your baby's head. you looked at abby and smiled. "hi." you kissed her lips. "let me put her to bed and i'll join you."

abby stood up, careful not to wake up the baby up. she walked to the crib and gently put the baby inside. you hugged abby from behind, kissing her bare back. abby stayed there for a minute, watching your daughter sleep so peacefully. abby grazed her fingers on one of the aquatic felt animals on the mobile above the crib and turned to face you.

"i love you, so much", she whispered, wrapping her arms around you.

abby's dad often came over. even more since abby had gone back to work after her paternity leave. since he was retired, he had plenty of time to come and help you. he also always insisted on babysitting your daughter so you and abby could go out for dinner or just go out the two of you. you were a bit scared to leave him alone with her at first, not wanting her to feel abandoned or confused. but your daughter seemed to love her grandfather, always reaching out for him when he walked through the door. and he loved her too.

jerry was playing with your daughter on her playing mat. she was giggling as he blew raspberries on her tummy. your daughter was now 4 months old. she was holding her zebra stuffie, which once belonged to abby, in her hand. absolutely adorable, you thought.

abby put a hand on the small of your back as you stood in the doorway. "you ready to go, my love?" you nodded. "mhm. jerry, you're sure you got this?" abby's dad looked up at you two and smiled. "go, don't worry. ow, ow!" he looked down at your daughter who was putting his fingers in her mouth. he giggled and poked her small tummy. "alright dad, call us if you need anything", abby said before walking out of your apartment.

she had booked a reservation at your favorite restaurant. you held her arm as you two entered the place. "here." the waiter said as he guided you to your table.

abby, pulled your chair towards her for you to sit. "well, thank you." you smiled. she sat in front of you, and looked into your eyes. "you look so pretty, baby." she smirked at you. "oh, shush."

dinner went well, abby and you talked about her work, how you've been feeling, and your wedding. "i thought, maybe we could do something, just the three of us. elope." you looked at her. "you don't want to invite your dad?"

"just us three", she reaffirmed. "what do you think?" the waiter came with your desserts, a cheesecake for abby and your usual. "thank you."

"well, i would love that. but when? and where? and what about our families?" abby takes your hand in her. "we could have a small party once we're back. but for now, i just want it to be us three. you, our daughter and me." she smiled softly. she squeezed your hand and looked into your pretty eyes. "as for when and where: how about next summer? i could take a few weeks off. and for where – anywhere my wife wants to go." she brought your hand to her lips and kissed it.

you smiled at her, feeling your cheeks warming. "i love you so much, abs."

"baby? how about catalina island?" you asked abby, scrolling on your phone. abby was changing your daughter, closing her overalls. "let me see."

you put your phone in front of her as she picked up the baby. "oh, s'pretty. can you check the laws on marriage certificates in california?" you nodded, opening another page on your phone.

abby gently bounced the baby in her arms. "we don't need to be from cali to get married, no blood tests required but a we need a witness..." you said, looking at your phone. "alright, i'll check for an attorney and an officiant." abby kissed your head. "you look for a photographer, mmh? and we'll check places to stay at together." you kissed her softly and looked down at your daughter. "your mama is the sweetest. did you know that, sweetheart?" abby blushed and hugged you close.

valentine's day arrived. you woke up, abby already gone to work. you went to your daughter's room to find her already awake, babbling. "hi, my love", you cooed. "hi, my baby." you picked her up and kissed her cheek. you went to the kitchen when you found a small note on the fridge: "happy valentine's day. x i'll come home a bit later. i love you. abs."

you smiled and started your day. you fed your daughter some banana puree. she had grown so much these past few months, already 8 months old. she had grown out of her newborn clothes so fast. you smiled as you put the spoon in her mouth. "good job, sweetheart." she looked up at you and smiled, flashing you her smile, her two bottom teeth showing. you kissed her small nose.

the day went by fast, you and your daughter went out to the park. she was so adorable, looking around, observing the world around her, babbling. then, you went to the florist and got a bouquet of blue hydrangea.

you went back home and put the bouquet in a vase, on the kitchen table. you spent the afternoon with your baby, reading for her, bathing with her. after the bath, you put her in her diaper and pyjamas before doing the same with you. you made your baby some puree and fed her.

you played with her a little until she cried. you breastfed her, watching her slowly dozing off. "mama loves you, baby", you whispered, wiping her mouth and kissing her head. you put your daughter to bed, turning on her night light and mobile.

you went to the kitchen and prepared dinner for you and abby. she finally came home around 7:30pm. she came to the kitchen to greet you. "baby, thanks for the flowers." she spoke, kissing your cheek. "happy valentine's day, my love" you looked at her and kissed her. "what were you doing? comin' home so late?"

she smirked. "had some work to finish." she kissed your head and hugged you from behind.

you two had dinner, talking about your elopement, your day, how much your daughter's growing. "by the way, i checked and we'll have to make a stop for a few days in L.A, to get our wedding license. and then get the ferry to the island." abby explained. "oh, that's alright. yeah, we can do that." abby kissed your hand, sensing you were a nervous. "it'll be alright, i promise."

abby went to take a shower as you waited for her in your bed, reading. she came out of it, wearing nothing but her towel. you looked up from your book and felt your face get warm. all this time, and she still had the same effect on you. she quickly looked for something in her work bag before clearing her throat. she sat on the bed.

"my love?" you nodded. she opened the small box, a ring with a small diamond in it. you gasped. "abby, i can't – why?" she grinned. "course you can, you're my wife. but you'll get to wear it on our wedding day. just wanted your approval. you like it?" you leaned your head on her shoulder and kissed her neck. "mhm. thank you, baby."

she smiled and closed the box, putting it on the nightstand before kissing you. she cupped your face and deepened the kiss.

that night, she came on your tongue, thanking you, her wife. she worshipped your body, kissing you all over. thanking you for being hers, for the kid you had given her. you two made love, whispering "i love you's" to each other.

abby was slowly falling asleep when the baby woke up. you were about to get up when she stopped you. "i got it." she stood up and put a random t-shirt and underwear before going to your daughter's room. you smiled, still wondering how you got so lucky.

the trip to los angeles went smoothly. abby and you decided to pay for an extra sit so you'd have a row for you three, and somewhere to put the baby's bassinet. you made sure to pack enough diapers and changes for the flight. you nursed your daughter during take-off and landing, as you read it helped with ear pressure and she slept during the whole two hours flight. you checked into the hotel you were staying at for the next four days. "we'll rest for the rest of the day and then tomorrow we'll go to the county clerk. the appointment is at 10am."

you spent the rest of the day sleeping, abby took the baby on a walk while you did so. she made sure to put sunscreen on her small face, little arms and legs and even put on her little bucket hat. "you're so cute." she spoke to your daughter, kissing her tummy.

the next day, abby, your daughter and you were on your way to the county clerk. you had checked before hand if you had all the documents needed to request a license. it all went well.

the attorney said that they will call as soon as the license is ready and will assign you a judge. you and abby smiled at each other. "thank you." abby said, shaking the attorney's hand.

two days later, abby got a call on her phone. "hello?" she answered. she looked at you and your daughter, sitting on the hotel bed. she grinned. "amazing! we'll be there. 2pm, today. thank you." she hung up. "they got our license."

abby looked down at you sitting and cupped your face, kissing you. "we're gonna get married, it's official." you kissed her back, holding your daughter close to you. "my wife." you whispered into the kiss. "my wife." she repeated.

you stayed one more day in los angeles before taking the ferry to the island.

the trip on the ferry was a bit hard, despite it being only an hour – your daughter was feeling a bit fussy, probably uncomfortable due to the warm weather. you and abby tried your best to calm her down, make sure she drank water, was changed, rubbed her face with a cold wet cloth. and it's only when abby took her on the deck a bit, the breeze touching her puffy cheeks, that she calmed down.

you rented a small apartment a few minutes by foot away from the beach. the californian sun fell on your skin, making you sweat. you made sure to put sunscreen on your daughter's face, arms and legs and even got her a little bucket hat.

as you three settled in the rental, abby called the photographer and the judge to remind them of the place and time of the wedding.

the photographer had texted that she had arrived to the island a day prior you arrived. "baby? she's asking if we want a pre-wedding photoshoot tomorrow afternoon, at the beach?"

you were in the bathroom, washing your daughter. she's giggling and splashing the water. "how much is it?" abby leaned on the bathroom's door. "says it'll be 90 dollars." you turned around. "do you want to? i mean – it's amazing with the sun, the beach. but do you want to?"

abby smiled and got closer to you, kneeling next to you. "it's our wedding. if you want to, then let's do it." she kissed you softly and turned to your daughter. "does my little girl wanna go to the beach? mmh? wanna go see sharks?" you looked at abby. "wait what? there are no sharks, right?" abby chuckled and kissed your head as you looked at her, confused. "you're too cute."

for your first night in catalina island, you three decided to go out for dinner. you had taken the baby wrapper with you, abby being the one wearing it. one of her hand on your daughter's back and the other hand in yours. the sky was a shade of purple, with some hues of red and yellow. the night slowly setting in.

"hey, baby, what about this one? they got cheesecakes." abby said, stopping in front of a restaurant with a view on the beach. "sure." you kissed her cheek as you entered the restaurant. music was coming out of the speaker. "good evening, a table for three, please. with a high chair, if you guys have that." abby spoke to a waitress.

the waitress smiled and asked you to follow her to a table on the terrace. "here, i'm gonna go get the chair." you thanked her.

you and abby sat across from each other, the sunset on your left and on her right. "look, baby. isn't it pretty? it's pretty, mmh?" she spoke to your daughter, who had turned her head to look at the sunset. "ma" she babbled. you and abby smiled. you couldn't believe she was going to turn one year old in a few weeks. the waitress came back with a highchair, putting it on the side of the table. abby held the baby carefully as she unwrapped her, before putting her in the chair. your daughter held abby's index finger.

you ate, abby and you talking about the next few days, as you admired the view – the sunset and your wife, feeding your daughter some mashed potatoes. "the plane's coming, brr..." abby smiled, bringing the food to your daughter's mouth, she clapped her hands and opened. "the plane landed!"

"you okay, baby?" she looked at you from the corner of her eyes. "mhm, just looking at my beautiful wife and my baby." abby chuckled, wiping your daughter's mouth with a tissue. "i love you."

the next day you met with the photographer at the beach. "just act as if i wasn't there", she said, preparing her camera. you and abby played with your daughter, sitting next to her in the sand as she touched it, smiling as she discovered the new texture.

abby and you walked to the water. you held your baby by her hands and lowered her gently, so her feet touched the water. she moved her feet up. "it's okay, baby. s'just water." she hesitated a second before letting her feet on the wet sand again. abby kneeled and looked at her. "yay!" she encouraged your daughter who started giggling at the feeling of water hitting her ankles. "my little shark." abby pretended to bite your daughter in the neck, making her giggle. "nom, nom, nom..."

abby picked her up and looked at you. your daughter looked at you and reached for you, touching your shoulder as abby leaned in for a kiss. "i love you." you kissed her back and grinned. "i love you too, abby. and i love you too, my baby." you looked at your daughter and kissed her head as she giggled and wiggled in abby's arms.

the sun was starting to set, the photographer was starting to pack her things. "so, after tomorrow's the big day for you, huh?" you smiled and nodded. "we're so excited. thank you again for accepting to be our witness." she smiled. "it's no problem, really. i love photographing elopements, though i don't get to do it as much as i'd like to." she put her backpack on her back and waved goodbye. "see you, lovebirds!"

you couldn't believe that in two days you were going to be married to the love of your life. it all seemed so surreal. "i love you, abby." she hugged you close. "i love you more, sweet girl."

it was finally the day abby and you would officially be wife and wife. you had dressed your little girl in a white dress with her little bucket hat. abby was buttoning her white shirt, wearing a pair of light blue pants. she had her hair down, grinning. her cheeks were flushed. "you look so pretty."

she sat on the bed next to you and kissed your head. "so do you." you were wearing an all light blue outfit that matched her suit. you quietly brushed through your wife's blonde hair, before braiding it. once you were done, she turned to you and kissed you softly. "i love you." your noses touched. you kissed her once more. "i love you too."

you three made your way to the beach, the sun caressing your skins. your baby in her stroller. you met with the judge who was already there, and the photographer.

you placed the stroller in front of the judge, where you stood across from abby, waiting for the judge to start speaking. your daughter looking at the both of you as she nibbled on her teether.

"thank you all for coming here today to witness this union. we are here today to celebrate the love between two - or shall i say, three, people." you chuckled nervously, already feeling the tears well up. abby took your hands hers.

"do you", the judged turned to you, "take abigail anderson to be your wedded wife?" you nodded, squeezing abby's hands. "i do."

"and do you, abigail anderson, take this woman to be your wedded wife?" she wiped her tears and nodded, "i do."

"i love you so much. i swear, i love you and our daughter more than anything. i've loved you for so long, i don't know what i'd do without you. you've been here for me during good and hard times, always trying to help. you've been my anchor all these years. i love you." she looked at you, sniffling. you were also crying, squeezing her hands. she caressed the back of them with her thumbs. "i love you", you whispered back.

abby got the ring out of her pocket, the one she had gotten you on valentine's day a few months back. she held your left hand up and slid the ring on your finger. she kissed each one of your fingers. "i love you." she cried as you caressed her cheek.

"you may now kiss", the judge spoke. you wrapped your arms around her neck and kissed her, passionately. she wrapped her strong arms around you. "i love you so much", she whispered into the kiss.

all you've ever needed was here. your wife, your daughter. you felt like the luckiest woman in the world, and so did abby. she was so grateful to have you in her life, grateful that you'd chosen her as your wife and mother of your child. "mama!" your daughter said right before the photographer clicked a photo.

taglist: @abbysprettygiiirl @bambishaven @bunniehrtz @cowboylikeabi @dykeanderson

@lesbian-useless

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson x f!reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson tlou #abby tlou #tlou fic #abby the last of us

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