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space-cowgirllll · 18 days

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Tolerate It

pls enjoy this kinda angsty little thing I wrote a couple of months ago when I was really going through it in a relationship and have been too shy to post anywhere until today. I miiiiight have the second part to this halfway done. If this sucks I'm so sorry lmao it’s very lightly proofread and I have not written anything that hasn't had to be turned in for a grade in years.

Part Two

You sit alone at the table wondering how you ended up here. The dinner you'd spent the better part of the evening preparing grows cold as you sip on what has to be your third glass of wine. From your spot you can see Abby standing at the counter, speaking softly into the phone while she reads through the mail that had piled up over the last week. You pick at your food, hoping she'll join you eventually, but when fifteen minutes turns into twenty and then thirty five, you realize you're wasting your time. The laughter from the other room tells you the work part of the call ended long ago. Pushing your chair back, not caring when the loud noise earns you a glare from Abby, you gather your plate and blow out the candles at the center of the table.

Abby moves to sit on the loveseat in the living room after her call. It doesn't take long for her to get lost in the new book she had just brought home. Your eyes shift to the untouched plate of food still waiting for her in the dining room and then to the apple in her hand. The sound of your throat clearing catches her attention.

"Your plate is still at the table if you want it, babe." You gesture to the lone plate at her usual spot.

There's a pang in your chest at the sight of the floral arrangement you'd chosen for the week. Behind that, strong wind pelts rain at the window. The gloomy weather a perfect representation of the storm brewing inside you.

"I thought I told you I had an early dinner with a couple of colleagues."

"Oh."

It comes out as a whisper. Not bothering to tell her she hadn't called you back after her lunch break. Again. You make a mental note to put the plate away before bed, knowing she'll pack it for tomorrow.

Your arms are elbow deep in soapy water, trying to rush through the last couple of dishes before she retreats to her study. The clanking of pots and pans fills the quiet space. You scrub at a particularly stubborn spot, trying to think of a way to bring it up without sounding too obvious.

"How was work today?"

"Fine." Your wife replies, not elaborating further.

"It's the twenty first, right?" There's some hesitation in the question.

"Yup."

Okay.

She doesn't look up from her book when you shuffle past her a little while later, placing a steaming mug on the coffee table. Her hand caresses the soft skin of your thigh and you perk up when she mumbles a soft thanks, placing a quick kiss on her temple. The sleeping cat on her lap stirs when you give him a gentle scratch behind the ear.

You settle into the sofa across from her and watch her read. She's in the cotton pajamas and fuzzy socks you'd laid out in the closet for her. It makes you feel ridiculously overdressed. Your hands fist the skirt of your dress, feeling foolish. There's a dark spot on the satin material from leaning over the wet counter.

The record player in the far corner of the room catches your attention. You miss the nights where she'd play you one of her favorites and dance with you around the living room before letting you sit on her lap as she read out loud to you. You never thought you would miss those boring medical journals. These days you're lucky if you get more than an hour with her before she locks herself in her study.

It hadn't always been like this. The two of you have been together longer than you've been apart. Visions of eleven year old Abby teaching you how to braid her hair for soccer practice flash in your head. Crawling into her bed in the middle of the night after another nasty fight between your parents. Summer vacations to her family's lake house. Her and her parents at every dance recital and play you'd ever been part of in high school. Realizing at sixteen that your feelings for the girl weren't so platonic. Then moving into the spare bedroom down the hall from her a year later after coming out to your family. Prom dress shopping with her and her mother, sneaking kisses in the tiny fitting rooms. The Anderson's were the family you never had.

Navigating young adulthood with Abby had been fun. You'd rented a tiny apartment in Seattle and paid way too much for it while attending university. It wasn't much, but it was home. You remember the dance parties in the tiny living room. The time the blonde begged you to let her keep the tiny cat she'd found in an alley on the way home one random afternoon. Going on dates and exploring the city. Staying up late and fantasizing about what life would look like in ten years. The look on her face as her thumb rubbed small circles on the exposed skin of your belly after you'd shown her your list of baby names. Getting married just after graduation.

Abby had never been too busy to show you how much she loved you, no matter how busy she got with school. Packing your meals for work, making sure your car had enough gas in it, organizing stay at home date nights whenever your schedules aligned. And you doing the same for her when she was up to her eyebrows in work for school.

The notes were your favorite. They had started appearing randomly after you'd been unexpectedly laid off. You'd been moping around the house for weeks, losing hope after not hearing back from any of the companies you'd applied to. Always in your favorite color, the purple post it notes could be found stuck to the wherever you'd see them first thing in the morning. The silly declarations of love and the affirmations always made you smile.

Those days were long gone. You were slowly going from high school sweethearts to two people who simply co-existed. No matter what you did or how hard you tried, it was getting harder to deny the lack of warmth in her eyes when she looked at you sometimes. Today proved what you had been too afraid to admit to yourself. The only person who had ever felt like home has slowly started becoming a stranger that slipped into your bed later and later each night.

Your eyes start stinging and you bite down on your lower lip. There's no way you're breaking down in front of her, not tonight. The warmth radiating from the fireplace does little to keep away the chill running through your body. Shaky hands bring the mug to your lips, hoping some tea would calm the nausea swirling in your stomach. You're not surprised to find yourself unable to keep drinking after a few tiny sips. Abby's favorite mug grows cold on the coffee table and you're positive she doesn't even remember it's there.

The sound of her phone ringing startles you both. Abby snatches the phone off the counter, a tired sigh leaves her parted lips when she sees who's calling. She jogs up the steps, intently listening to whoever is on the other end of the phone. You pick at the chipping nail polish on your left hand, watching the way your engagement ring glints in the dim light of the fire. Your stomach dips as you slip the stack off your finger, placing them in the small bowl on the coffee table.

"Are you going somewhere?" Your head shoots up to where she's standing in the threshold. The sight of her in a fresh pair of navy blue scrubs doesn't surprise you. Her loose bun traded for a tight braid that hangs over her shoulder.

"No. Why would I be?"

She gestures at your dress. Eyes roaming over your face, finally noticing the makeup you'd carefully applied hours before. You see her lock in on your empty hand, her sculpted brows furrow in confusion. Please say something. You beg, just wanting to understand why this is happening. Was she so busy she couldn't even bother to ask what's wrong? Did she even care anymore?

The constant buzzing of the phone in her tote bag answers your question for you. She shakes her head and turns to the door, stopping to slip her feet into her sneakers. You follow silently behind her, wondering if you should say something.

"Abigail?"

She hums in acknowledgment, not bothering to look up from her phone. Her fingers move at lightning speed across the touchscreen. Your nails dig into the palm of your hand, fighting the urge to snatch her phone and chuck it against the wall.

"What?" She asks again when you don't speak up. The look of annoyance on her face has you taking a step back.

"Nevermind," you turn towards the coat closet, pulling out her winter jacket. "It doesn't matter." You don't have to look back to know she's rolling her eyes.

"I should be back before you leave for work." You busy yourself with the already organized closet, pretending to move things around while she gathers the rest of her things.

"Be careful." You mumble, blinking rapidly to stop the tears from flowing. Not trusting yourself to say much more without your throat closing.

"Always am." She plants a kiss on the back of your head and heads out the door. It's only when you hear the sound of her car pulling away that you let yourself cry. No longer caring about the mascara that is certainly smearing.

Unsteady legs carry to the foot of the stairs where you collapse into a pathetic heap. Tears freely flowing down your cheeks, further staining the material of your dress. Your hands harshly pull at the fabric, wanting nothing more than to rip it off. The pins in your hair clatter loudly on the floor as you harshly pull them out.

Your sobs echo throughout the empty house. Pain radiates through your body, from somewhere in your chest to the tips of your fingers. The nausea has increased tenfold. You inhale sharply, resting your head on your knees. Watery eyes fixed on the front door your wife had just walked out of, this gut wrenching feeling of loneliness overwhelms you.

"Happy anniversary Abby."

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby the last of us #abby x you #abby anderson angst #abby anderson x female reader

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leilanihours · 2 months

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🗝️ prompt 19 with paige?

# YOU'RE SUCH A DREAM TO ME

pairing: paige bueckers x drunk!reader

word count: 847

warnings: none !

prompt: "i dreamed of you"

⭑ from lani: i kinda hate this i'm not good at writing drunk ppl LMAO

celly masterlist !

main masterlist !

YOU DOUBLED OVER laughing as you were practically dragged into your apartment by your girlfriend, "you're so funny, paige, holy shit!"

"baby, all i said was 'take off your shoes,' how is that funny?" she asks with a smile.

instead of responding with words you simply continue to die of laughter while paige tries to get you to sit down on the couch.

you didn't know it, but you were absolutely wasted. you had a few too many drinks at ice's birthday celebration and were now experiencing the effects of the various strong liquors you had consumed.

paige offered to be the designated driver so that you could relax and have fun. the two of you had been in this situation a few times before - where you were so drunk that you couldn't walk in a straight line and paige was basically your caretaker.

she knew that this was only the first stage of your drunken state: undying laughter. you would laugh and giggle at every little thing - nothing but a smile on your flushed face.

paige had already set you down on the couch and taken off your shoes, and she was now filling up a glass of water for you to drink.

"paigeyyy," you call out to no particular location, "where'd you goooo?"

your girlfriend winces as your voice echoes loudly throughout your apartment, remembering that you had little to no volume awareness when you were drunk.

"i'm right here, ma, don't worry," she says gently as she hands you the glass of water, "can you drink some of this for me?"

"mhm," you mumble, taking long sips of the cold water you didn't even know you needed, "thanks, p."

"you don't gotta thank me, y/n, it's just water," she shrugs with a small smile.

"i know but you're just such a good girlfriend to me," you slur, eyes randomly beginning to feel heavy, "i feel so bad that you have to take care of me like this, m'sorry, paigey."

paige looks into your eyes and notices tears beginning to fill your waterline, concern immediately overcoming her.

"hey, hey, hey, it's okay, baby," she says gently as she begins to caress your face and hair, "please don't cry, y/n, i love taking care of you."

"no you don't," you shake your head dramatically, "i'm just a nuisance that's keeping you from going to sleep."

at this point, tears had slowly begun streaming down your face as the blonde wipes them away with her thumbs.

"please stop crying, baby, you're perfect, you're not keeping me from doing anything," she explains, her eyes bever leaving yours, "i'm doing this because i love you."

"you love me?" you sniffle.

"so much."

"aw thank you, paige, i love you too," you whisper in her ear as if it were a big secret.

when you don't lift your head from its place in paige's neck, she assumes that you've fallen asleep on her shoulder. she chuckles at how quickly your mood has changed within the past ten minutes.

"how 'bout we get you ready for bed, yeah?" she asks quietly, rubbing circles over your back.

"mmm," is all you say in response.

"c'mon, up we go," she says as she lifts the both of you from the couch, placing one of your arms around her shoulders.

she guides you into your shared bedroom and lays you down on your bed, smiling down at your state.

as if there were a written routine, paige goes into your bathroom and grabs your makeup wipes, then into your closet to grab you a pair of pajamas.

"can you sit up real quick, baby?" she asks softly, tugging on your arms.

once she has you in an upright position at the foot of the bed, she begins to strip you out of your outfit from the party and slips you into your some sweatpants and a hoodie.

as she gently wipes off the makeup on your face, a smile creeps onto your face despite your eyes still being closed.

"you're not real," you mumble inaudibly.

"what was that, ma?" paige asks, throwing away the dirty wipes.

"you're not real," you repeat.

"i'm not?" paige chuckles.

"nope."

"why is that?" she asks as she pulls you up to the head of the bed, tucking you in before changing into her own pajamas.

"because you're just so perfect, so sweet to me," you explain, "i swear i've dreamed of someone like you, no- i've dreamed of you. just you."

"you make it easy to be sweet to you," she whispers, placing a kiss to your temple as she gets into bed next to you.

you immediately shift your position so that your head was resting on the blonde's chest and your arm was draped over her stomach.

paige wraps an arm around you, holding you tighter to her with no intent of letting go.

"love you so much, paige," you whisper before ultimately falling into a deep sleep.

"love you so much more, y/n," paige says into your hair before also drifting to sleep.

— leilani signing off ! 📁

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cowboylu · 2 months

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Pinot Noir

This is my first time writing smut I really don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing lmao but if I stare at this any longer I’ll kms

Warnings- Smut, eating Abby out, drinking and Owen and Mel catching strays ig 🤷‍♀️

⟢

It didn’t start this way. You didn’t mean for it to go this far. Just an offhand comment about her boyfriend and suddenly…

You can’t say you’re complaining though.

You rake in the sight in front of you. Abigail Anderson, shirt unbuttoned, and head tilted back on the couch as she rests her elbows over the cushions. In one hand there’s an almost empty bottle of wine and the other is gripping the pillow. Her legs are spread and her hair is down and she’s rocking her aching clit into your hand and even though you’re sitting on the floor, you can’t help but feel like you’re on top of the world. Also that her boyfriend is an idiot.

⟢

It’s late at night when your roommate comes back from her shift at the bar. Pouring drinks for strangers must have exhausted her somehow because she ignores you where you’re sitting on the couch and storms into her room. You get the feeling it isn’t just her job, though.

“You okay?” You call through the apartment. Always the unceremonious.

You hear a slam from her room and figure if she wants you to leave her alone, she can tell you. You leave your glass of wine on the coffee table and walk to her room, knocking on the door before calling through it.

“Abs? You okay?”

Your relationship has always been rocky. Her intensity freaks you out and your laid back attitude annoys her. there’s arguments about you not taking the trash out on time and her working out too loud too early in the morning. But for the most part, respect and distance makes a large difference in the peacefulness of everything. Sometimes you even manage to get on. However, the teeny tiny crush you may or may not be harbouring doesn’t help.

“I’m fine.” She calls back but there’s another bang, as if she’s dropped something, and you’re unconvinced.

“Okay, that sounds like the opposite of fine. Can I come in?”

Before you can knock again, she swings the door open to reveal her braid undone and her dress shirt unbuttoned to her sternum. You try not to stare but it’s hard and part of you wants to savour it. Never have you seen her in such disarray.

“Abby, what’s wrong?” You ask earnestly as she wipes her tired eyes. “You look like shit.” Good shit. Beautiful shit, even, but shit nonetheless.

“Thanks.” She laughs sarcastically and turns to walk back into her room. She leaves the door open and you don’t encroach, but you do take the opportunity to look around the room you’ve never seen before.

Her bed is made and everything seems normal until you find the source of the loud noises. A broken handle from her closet lies on her bed and a weight lies on the floor, apparently having fallen from the small weight rack she keeps next to her mirror. The woman herself is trying to find a way to open her closet door without the handle. Very much to no avail.

“I just mean you seem stressed.” You try and she turns around from her place on the other side of the room.

“Oh, do I?” She asks sharply and slams her hand against the door when part of the broken handle nips her finger.

“Okay.” You stop her and walk into her room to grab her hand and lead her out of the door and to the couch. You find another glass in the kitchen but when you turn around, she’s already taking a sip from the bottle. You laugh and put the glass away when she looks at you like she’s been caught.

“You have your glass…” She says defensively. As if you even mind.

“I can’t lie, Abby. I would have thought you were classier than this.” You tease, to which she snorts, wipes her mouth and puts the bottle back on the table.

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong?” You ask, picking your glass up from the table and plopping down on the couch next to her.

This is unusual because yes, you’ve had moments like these before, it’s never been on the same couch. Or while making conversation. Normally, you drink and read on the couch while she does the same on the armchair across from you. Maybe you’ll sit in silence as something you’ve both wanted to see plays on the television. But neither of you are talkers.

“Ahh, it’s… it doesn’t matter, it’s a long story.” She says dismissively but you can tell that whatever's plaguing her is doing just that. Plaguing her.

“Look,” you start, not one for dancing around, “you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to but your stress is stressing me out and it’s making this wine taste like shit. I wanna listen if you wanna tell me.”

“This wine already tastes like shit.”

“That’s what you took from that?”

She groans and tips her head back on the couch and you have to try as hard as possible not to stare at the way the anatomy of her neck stretches with her.

“School is running me into the ground and my boss is on my ass about shit I can’t even control all the time and I haven’t gotten in the gym in so long and my boyfriend… ugh…” she rambles.

Makes sense, you think. Med school and working as a bartender all while trying to juggle fitness and a boyfriend…can’t be easy. Although you didn’t know about the last one.

“Boyfriend?” You ask shamelessly. “What about him?”

Abby sighs and reaches for the bottle of wine on the coffee table. She takes a generous sip before licking her lips and resting the bottle in between her legs. You have to take a drink of your own wine so as not to audibly moan at the sight.

“He got my best friend pregnant.”

Oh!

“Oh…” You try to think of something encouraging to say but you can’t. “So… he cheated on you with your best friend?”

“Not exactly. It’s complicated, we weren’t exactly together at the time and she-“ Abby stops herself and runs a hand down her face. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“No wonder…” you murmur and take the bottle from between her legs, pouring some into your glass before offering it back to her. “We don’t have to talk. We can watch something terrible or just sit here if you want.”

She nods and shifts on the sofa so she’s leaning back and manspreading. She looks beautiful, you think. Even if she is a bit of a dick. Her hair down and her shirt unbuttoned and she must be so stressed, she doesn’t care about being put together anymore.

You’ve always thought so but never lingered on it for fear of losing this apartment and her (albeit unsteady) friendship. Always thought she was beautiful. Always thought she was something to be admired. You’re just too proud of yourself to admit it.

“I just think it’s fucked up.” She breaks the silence. Apparently she does want to talk about it.

“Yeah?” You drawl lazily, leaning your elbow over the back of the couch.

“Yeah. We weren’t together but that was my best friend, y’know? Then he had the audacity to come back to me and say ‘oh we’ve been together for so long, why waste it?’ Like…dude?” She throws her hands up in the air in front of her and shifts back on the couch so she’s sitting up more.

“And did you take him back?” You ask.

“Yeah.” She admits after a moment of hesitation but apparently you don’t hide the look on your face as well as you think you do. “I know, god. I know. I don’t need a lecture.”

You put your hands up in surrender and laugh softly.

“I didn’t say anything.”

She rolls her eyes and smiles and it’s moments like these where you think you could see yourself falling in love with her. Or at least having a tragic situationship and never getting over it.

“I'm just saying. The sex must have been mind blowing for you to stay after that.” You tease but she lets out a sarcastic laugh and your mouth drops open.

“Are you serious? He does all that and he doesn’t even fuck you good?”

“Don’t be so vulgar about it.” She scrunches up her nose cutely

“There’s no other way to be. If he’s gonna cheat, he should at least be able to make you cum hard enough to forget about it.”

“He never made me cum at all, actually.” She admits.

“Oh dear god.” You say dramatically and stand from the couch. You’re gonna need another bottle of wine if you’re gonna make it out of this alive. “Like ever? He didn’t even try?”

“You’re making me feel really good about myself right now.” Abby says sarcastically as her eyes follow you around the apartment.

“It’s not you, it’s him.” You say, looking down at the bottle of wine that I’m currently struggling to get the cork out of. “And if he never wanted to make a woman like you cum, then…”

Abby’s eyebrow lifts and her head tilts as a little smirk appears on her face.

“A woman like me?” She asks with a curious little smile, sitting back as she watches you pop the cork out of the bottle. “What does that mean?”

“What do you mean, ‘what do you mean’? It means what it means.” You counter, walking back over to the couch as Abby drains the last of the old wine bottle. You sit down and don’t bother filling up your glass, only taking a drink out of the new bottle before passing it to her.

“But what does that mean?” She says, with that cocky smirk that makes you want to drop your pants for her.

“Just that if he didn’t care about making his girl cum, then he’s a piece of shit.” You say before taking the bottle Abby had held out for you.

“You say it like it’s easy.” She scoffs.

“It is easy.” You retort before passing the bottle back to her. “You just have to pay attention.”

“You think you could do it to me?”

⟢

And that's how you got here. Holding Abby’s leg up as you devour her cunt and moaning every time she tugs on your hair.

“Oh fuck…please…” She moans breathlessly. You’re not even sure what she’s begging for.

Loud. Just like you imagined.

“Y’taste so good.” You mumble into her soaked folds but she pushes your head back into her and you laugh softly. The vibration makes her hips buck and you wrap an arm around her thigh to try and hold her down.

“Fuck— fu-ck…shit, m’gonna cum.” She whispers, quickly like she can’t get the words out fast enough.

“Mhm, cum on m’face.” Her hand pushes your head down as she fucks herself on your face and you moan against her pretty cunt.

She whines before she cums, a sound you’ve never imagined she’d make, but you want to hear that sound for the rest of your life. Make her cum so hard that she forgets all about her stupid fucking boyfriend.

Abby rides out her orgasm on your tongue and you look up at her with borderline predatory eyes. She pushes your sweaty hair out of your forehead and tips her head back on the couch.

You push her unbuttoned shirt off her stomach, revealing her waist and her pretty tits as you kiss up her abs and chest.

“Better than your boyfriend?”

“Fuck you.” She laughs before pulling you into a kiss.

#abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x reader #abby x masc!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x masc reader

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