CC

Ambessa

Aftercare drabble

"S(he) hates everyone, but me." Thoughts

Caitlyn

Meeting Cassandra Very unserious blurb

Aftercare drabble

Slightly out of touch Girlfriend!Caitlyn Blurb

The one eyed The aftermath of the war leaves Caitlyn with a new found insecurity. One that you are determined to confront.

Hold me..if you want Blurb

Hers and hers alone Workaholic!Caitlyn x Needy!reader

Pulp Fiction Caitlyn never seems to forget the important things

Sevika

Three syllables.

Simple.

Or was that too informal–too familiar? Would “Mrs. Kiramman” be better? Or perhaps, “Councilor” Kiramman? No, that sounds like someone pleading for mercy. 

“You might just be overthinking this,” Caitlyn chuckled, interrupting your rambling. 

“You think this is funny? This could change the entire trajectory of our relationship!” you huffed, fully aware of how dramatic you sounded.

A playful smirk tugged at her lips. “Kind of.”

You pouted, crossing your arms and turning your back to her. 

“Look,” she said, wrapping her arms around your waist and placing her chin on your shoulder, “Nothing about how Friday goes or how she feels about you will change the way I feel about you.”

The tension in your shoulders eased as you sighed and turned your gaze toward hers. 

“…unless you call her ‘Your majesty.’ Then we may have to part ways.”

“Caitlyn, I’m serious!”

Saturday afternoon. The morning after. Your favorite brunch spot.

Your friend: Okay, so then how did the dinner actually go?

You: Well, I panicked and called her “Cassie” which she didn’t seem to mind. I think I even caught the faintest semblance of a smile.

Friend: Then?

You: I tried to compliment the tea. Said it tasted “expensive.”

Friend: Well, you probably weren’t wrong. What did she say?

Caitlyn, all intention and efficiency, quickly pushed herself off the bed and headed towards the bathroom for supplies.

She usually prioritized hydrating and cleaning you up directly afterwards.

The tight hugs and tender kisses were saved for later.

You were left alone, swallowed by the weight of the thick bedding, your uneven exhales keeping you company.

As usual, you couldn’t feel your limbs–they were all jelly and flesh. 

A part of you wanted to look down at your legs to make sure your femurs didn’t leave with her. 

It was different, though. 

This time, you also couldn’t feel your face.

 The hot tears that were rolling down your cheeks seemed to have a numbing effect on your skin.

It was all so different.

It was fast, passionate–too much.

The familiar, gentle reassurances–the hushed “there you are” or your favorite, “sweet girl”—were all replaced by the fast movements of her body and the rhythmic sounds of her damp skin meeting your own.

It was good. 

Gods, it was glorious. 

But, now you wanted–no, you needed–

“Darling?”

Caitlyn. 

The sound of the water bottles and wet wipes leaving her grasp and hitting the floor were immediately followed by a known weight returning to the bed.

Before you knew it, Caitlyn’s lithe figure was bent over your body, her knees pressing into the mattress. Her nose hovered over yours, almost touching, as your cheek was cupped in the slender hold of her palm. 

You studied the furrowed hairs of her thick eyebrows as her eyes searched your face for any semblance of answers. 

Before her words could form, your unsteady hands reached for her own face.

“Kiss, please…jus’ need you to touch me” you mumbled into her hand, sounding needier than you meant to.

But when she began pressing gentle, grounding pecks to your temple, shame couldn’t exist.

“There you are.”

She moved down to your lips, murmuring a “my sweet girl” in between unhurried kisses.

She slightly pulled away, looking for any remnants of distress on your features.

You tugged weakly at her wrist, guiding her hand until it rested against your chest where your heart still raced.

You think you whispered something. Maybe a slurred “Cait..”

You weren’t sure.

You were certain though, that her other hand faintly brushed your tear-stained cheeks with a gentleness that made your eyes fall to her lips.

“I’m here.”

Your gaze followed its carved, intricate patterns as you sprawled across her bed starfish-style–-the feeling of pure satisfaction coursing through each limb. 

Your senses were both heightened and dulled all at the same time.

Your vision was cloudy, but your skin hot and sensitive, causing you to let out a faint moan as your thighs brushed against the thick blanket.

Your eyes were lidded and you sported a lazy grin.

All the features indicative of a pleasure induced bliss. 

A state that only she could put you in.

“Ambs?”

“Dear?”-- the lingering shine of her own afterglow slightly pulling you out of your daze.

Her large palms laid on your inner thigh with her thumb absentmindedly rubbing your skin.

“I love you,” your eyes were still glazed over and the flesh of your lips swollen.

Ambessa usually had a way with words. In fact, they were one of the many things that came easy to her.

But when you looked up at her like this? 

As though she were the sun.

Like she was someone to be loved—not someone made to bow before or fear.

Words weren’t an option.

Instead, she opted for reaching over for the wet rag on the bed side table. 

“Ambs! You know that tickles,” you giggled, squirming under her touch as she lightly dabbed the damp cloth over the soft skin of your tummy.

When your head shifted from the pillow to pout up at her, she swore your eyes twinkled.

Gods.

The words were stuck in her throat again.

She instead wrapped her arms around your bare waist and gingerly pulled you up from your position on the bed and into her lap.

You sighed, nuzzling into the crook of her neck that seemed to be molded just for you.

Her firm palm pulled you closer, her nose breathing you in—sweat and all. 

“You’re perfect,” she instinctively murmured into your hair. 

You didn’t hear her though.

You were occupied by the warmth of her strong embrace and her steady breaths already lulling you to sleep. 

She was perfect, you thought, your grip on her arms loosening as you drifted out of consciousness.

For one, you stopped teasing Caitlyn about her aim. 

And two, a few aspects of your relationship were different. 

Well, you were both different. 

Caitlyn, who used to move through the world like she was its architect, was now small. She was never careless or reckless before, in fact, she was always measured.

 But now, all of her movements seemed unsure.

And you. Much to Caitlyn’s chagrin, you now self soothed by repeating banal sayings like “change is good” or “everything will work out”. 

It was for you more than it was for her. This all affected you more than you expected it to. 

In the beginning, you thought that maybe things would patch themselves up if you pretended they were already fixed. 

Of course, you and her both knew that would be impossible.

Communication had never been you or Caitlyn’s strong suit. Now, the two of you talked about everything.

You made sure of it.

From the mundane–how she likes her steak, her favorite side of the bed–to the heavier things: her doubts, your fears, and the shift that neither of you had planned for.

You even talked about talking.

The slightest change in her breath or expression was now met with a “Baby, do you want to talk about it?” And a groan from her would follow quickly after.

You did everything to bridge the silence, even at the risk of driving her utterly mad. 

Though, there was one thing the two of you had tip toed around, something you hadn’t dared touch—the most obvious. 

The topic of Caitlyn’s new accessory and what lay beneath had been uncharted territory. 

You felt that you had badgered her enough with your new therapy speak and your incessant hovering. You wanted to give her some space–room for her to come to you about this on her own.

And you’d already had conversations with her about your “smothering,” as Caitlyn put it. 

But when you see her hastily tie her patch on after stepping out of the shower, your mouth began to move before your frontal lobe could process the words. 

“Why do you do that?” 

“Do what?” she said, her sharp eye following you through the mirror as she began to finger through her damp locks. 

“You’re hiding from me.”

“Oh Janna, not this again,” Caitlyn muttered in annoyance, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’ve had enough of this inspirational malarky to last a lifetime.” 

You frowned from where you sat on the edge of the bed, watching her continue to comb through her hair and fidget with the fabric of her bathrobe—doing whatever she could to distract herself from your loud thoughts and her own uncertainties. 

It was a sturdy little thing. 

The eyepatch–-it was a black leather cloth that seemed to work overtime to hide what was left of Caitlyn’s left eye from you. And from herself. 

Aside from the shower, she never took it off. 

Not when she worked out. 

Not when she pleasured you from under the weight of the comforter. 

Not when she was alone.

 She didn’t know you knew, but you knew. 

Caitlyn suddenly dropped her head down, hunching over with her hands tightly gripping the hard wood of the vanity.

Your spot on the bed was quickly abandoned, and you were behind her before she could even take her next breath.

“I'm sorry” she breathed out in an attempt to mask the slight crack in her voice. “Not only am I burdening you with my baggage, but I’m now-” she cut herself off, gesturing to the mirror as if the monster she saw was one you could see too. 

You quickly shook your head, hushing her softly as you wrapped your arms around her waist. Her height didn’t allow your gaze to be leveled with hers, but this was enough.

She leaned back into your embrace, your eyes locking as you looked up at her through the mirror. 

Your hands slowly moved away from her waist and reached up towards the back of her head where a tight knot held the black cloth together. 

You bit your lip in apprehension the way you always did. Her breath hitched and her eye widened as she recognized your silent ask for permission. 

In one swift motion, the place where the patch once laid was replaced by the cool touch of your room’s air.

Caitlyn’s mouth gaped as she waited for a visible reaction from you. She was waiting for a gasp or for a subtle twitch in your eyebrows. Or maybe she was waiting for confirmation that you saw her the way she saw herself. 

It never came. 

Instead, you gently turned her away from your reflections. 

For the first time in a long time, you both stood face to face–without the presence of a barrier.

You studied and traced the expanse of her entire face with your thumb as if you were seeing her for the first time. 

Before she could squirm or protest, you stood on your tip toes and pressed soft lips on the skin that was once covered by the long forgotten thing. 

It was tender and patient. It was a touch that said “I see all of you and I never want to stop.”

Your lips then touched the tip of her nose. Then her own lips. Her jaw. Her neck too.

The lower you went, the less gentle and careful your touch was. 

Before going any further, you looked up at her. She looked down at you, her lips parted and her eyebrows furrowed at your abrupt pause.

“Don’t hide again–not from me.” 

Six words. Simple, but they were enough.

She nodded impatiently, her palms guiding your head back to her bare chest as her robe began to slide off of her shoulder. 

A small smile tugged at your lips knowing she was just as hungry as you were. 

She really was cool, you thought, watching her watch the movie. Despite picking the movie, you couldn’t even remember the title. Her firm hand holding the base of the popcorn bowl held your attention more. Even in such mundane movements like that, her hands were so confident—so assured. You imagined that those palms could hold fire if she wanted them to.

You had only been coworkers for a few months now, but corny thoughts like those filled your head every time you saw her. You couldn’t even remember how this started. Maybe it was the subtle way her presence commanded a room or how those strong arms could lift the heaviest things with an ease you'd never seen before--you weren’t sure. Or it could have been-

“What?” Sevika turned to you, quickly snapping you out of your daydreaming thoughts.

Oh. You had been staring.

“Nothing!” you squeaked, grabbing a handful of popcorn to distract her and yourself from the embarrassment—from thinking such silly things.

As you quickly turned your attention back to the small tv screen, you didn’t notice, but Sevika watched you too. 

She watched as your delicate fingers clumsily picked up the popcorn crumbs that fell from your mouth.

Her eyes taking in the curve of your cheek as you smiled at a particularly funny line from the movie.

She found herself smiling too, her breath catching without even knowing why. 

The larger woman shook her head, huffing as she wiped the sweat of her palms on the blanket you shared. She grabbed two handfuls of popcorn and stuffed her mouth, leaning further back into the couch as she reluctantly stared back at the screen.

 God, she was thinking those stupid thoughts again. 

The rapid sound of pages flipping back and forth along with the faint smell of hours-old coffee filled your senses. You leaned back further into the dark plush cushions of the sofa in Caitlyn’s study.

It was a little past six in the evening; it was probably dark out, you thought.

You wouldn’t know.

The curtains in the study were drawn and all doors and windows shut. You would always scold her for reading in the dark, but Caitlyn insisted that it helped her focus, and that it in fact strengthened her eyesight. Your lips twitched at the thought of her stubbornness.

The room overflowed with darkness save for the candle on Caitlyn’s desk and the small reading light you had attached to your book. 

You flipped a page as you half read, looking up across the room periodically, hoping that maybe you would lock eyes with her. That maybe the craving glimmer in your eyes would be enough for her to discard her papers and replace them with your body to smother with her soft kisses.

You fidgeted with the fabric of your silk nightgown, thighs shifting as you let out a soft sigh. Another subconscious effort to reach her--to hear the slight concern and trepidation in her voice as she asked, “Darling, are you alright?”

Anything to get even a sliver of her undivided attention.

You wanted her to see just you and you alone. 

You looked down at the scrawled letters of the paragraph that you hadn’t been reading before peeking up from behind your book again.

She was only a few feet away—you could feel her if you thought about it hard enough.

But she felt so out of reach.

Recently, she had been working nonstop. Leaving for the office before the world was awake and tiredly shuffling back into your apartment at odd hours of the night, passed out on her desk before her eyes could meet yours.  

Days like today–her off days–seemed like the only chance you had to be in her presence while she was conscious.

She worked all the time and when she wasn’t working she was thinking about working, you thought, watching her lick her thumb to flip yet another page. Her gaze was steady and her determination was unwavering. It was a quality you admire about her, it was what attracted you to her in the first place.

But right now, you felt so naked.

You were cold and exposed without her firm, but tender touches and her reassuring embrace.

You missed it all. You missed her. 

It was as if any time you got closer, fingertips just inches away, a new proposal or a last minute work meeting would stretch the distance between the two of you even further. It was a race and you had been losing.

You tugged at the neckline of your gown, feeling suffocated all of a sudden. 

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Had the clock always been that loud? 

You blinked, your eyes registering to the darkness again. God, it was stuffy in here. 

Pages continued to flip and Caitlyn’s brows furrowed in concentration. 

You were now irritated.

Suddenly you abandoned your spot on the sofa and swiftly got up to draw the dark velvet curtains open. The gleam of the evening sky suddenly filled the study. 

Your lips slightly curled, satisfied with your handiwork, you turned around only to be met with the gaze of those sharp eyes you adored so much. This time, penetrative and cold.

Before she could respond, you quipped, “You know, being completely shut off from the sun and the outside world isn’t going to make you work any faster.”

You guardedly walked over towards her desk, prepared for the swell of an argument. 

“Are you trying to vex me or are you just bored?” she retorted, looking up at you from her chair as she crossed her arms. 

Her papers and work books laid on her desk untouched, the wax of the candle dripping onto a lone page. 

Your breath hitched and your lips parted as her focus was on you, and you alone. 

“Oh,” her gaze softened and the crease between her eyebrows relaxed as she noticed the soft rising and falling of your chest.

“You need me.”

You stood in between her legs, nodding as your glassy eyes blinked rapidly to dam all that was threatening to spill.

She slowly took all of you in---from the imprint of your tummy through the tight silk to the faint baby hairs sticking out above your forehead.

Caitlyn frowned, giving you a knowing look, her grip tightened around your waist as she carefully pulled you into her lap. 

You immediately tucked your nose into her neck, your arms tight around her as if she would slip away if you let go.

As one of her steady palms caressed your head and the other began to hastily unbutton the back of your gown, you knew you were hers and hers alone, even if only for the night. 

The buzzing of the television murmured on low as the mid-afternoon sun shone through the large windows of your high rise. 

Yours. Both of yours. Not just hers. 

Out of everything, this particular change took a lot of getting used to even after five months of living together. All of her “hers” and your “yours” became an “ours.”

The novelty of it all hadn’t worn off yet. The thought of the smell of her plain black coffee next to your creamer-filled cup in the morning, the hushed whispers and giggles beneath the sheets, and even the ordinary silence you both shared after a long day—it still made you as giddy as it did in the beginning. 

     You sighed as you stared at the ceiling, subconsciously counting the intricate cream tiles that Caitlyn handpicked and imported from some renowned Italian manufacturer—the kind of person you didn’t know existed until you entered her world. Your novel laid on your lap long forgotten, as did your crossword puzzle, and your crochet square, and the many other things you tried to do to distract yourself from her absence. She’d been gone for exactly four hours, running errands, she said. You knew it wasn’t healthy to be so dependent on her, but you couldn’t help it.

You didn’t even care. You breathed her. 

Your best friends and relationship blogs (you’ve checked) call it the “Honeymoon stage.” It was the same thing they said five months ago when you moved your cat, suitcase, and plants into her your penthouse. This kind of input from close friends would cause any other girl to second guess such a decision. 

And you did.

A lot.

 But when you were reminded of the familiar feeling of her delicate digits combing through your hair or the sight of her dark furrowed brows as she made sure a vase was positioned juuust right, you didn’t even care. You couldn’t. You-

“Honey!” a voice called as you heard the door open.

God. Your breath hitched. You hadn’t gotten used to that either. You didn’t think you ever would.

You didn’t get to respond before you heard the gruff, distant voices and heavy feet of men coming through your front door and into the kitchen. 

“Right through here, but quietly, she may be sleeping,” Caitlyn shushed them sternly as she directed the men towards your kitchen.

 The loud thud of boxes quickly followed. Boxes?

“Quiet!” you heard her loudly whisper.

You pushed your discarded amusements off your lap and tried to pretend you hadn't just been counting down the minutes until she came home. As you padded into the kitchen, you were immediately greeted by the smell of fruit. You looked down to see four massive boxes filled with almost any kind of fruit you could imagine.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” she said uncrossing her arms, tension releasing as she took you in. 

“Cait, baby I-,” you looked over at her, then back at the boxes with an exasperated and confused breath as you placed your hands on your hips.

She looked up at you with a shy smile as she scratched at her neck, the same way she always did when she tried to gauge your reaction to her gestures. “I passed by a farmers market on the way home and I remembered that you liked fruit,” she said, carefully examining an apple, oblivious to your stunned gaze.

You remembered what Caitlyn was referring to. 

___

That night, you were both tangled under the covers as you nuzzled into her neck and she lightly stroked your back, burying her sharp nose into your hair. These were the best parts of your day. 

“You smell like oranges…you always do,” she breathed into your hair as she continued to knead your back.

Half asleep, half conscious, you drowsily murmured into her soft chest “Mmm I love oranges…and orange juice..especially the kind with the pulp in it…god, I love fruit and pulp...so much…I could eat it for the rest of my…” Honestly, you didn’t even know you were still speaking. Caitlyn chuckled into your locks while you continued to mumble about nothing as you fell asleep.

___

“Oh baby,” you softly giggled, staring into the striking blue orbs of her eyes as you stroked her now flushed cheek. You then reached into a box and picked up the juiciest and most orange-y looking orange you’d ever seen.

“I don’t think I can finish all of this, it’ll go bad in like a week,” you looked up at her with a disappointed pout.

“Then I’ll buy more next week and the next,” she said, grinning as she carefully fed you a blueberry.

As much you breathed her, you knew she breathed you too—with everything in her. 

You thought again about what your friends said, about what you thought.  

But as you watched her use her slender thumb to wipe the small drops of fruit juice off your lip, all of your uncertainties and worries vanished for the moment. 

You didn’t even care. How could you?