#i love this series with all of my heart and soul but i have not understood a single thing that has happened

[starberry-cupcake]

GUESS WHO'S BACK??? Happy new year you bone-loving weirdos (affectionately)!!! Let's start 2025 with Nona!!!

previously, in this react series:

we (I mean me, but also you, alongside me) finished harrowcita del 9

we read some short stories

I made a gideon craft as a gift and the person I made it for told me that the recap I wrote in the back made it to some discord server somewhere

my legacy is being unfunny

NOW LET'S START WITH NONA:

(that's how I called 2 of my great-grandmothers)

I decided to skip all the praise for the book because some of them were getting a little too involved with the story and I don't want to know anything, thank you very much

I did however read the blurb in the inside cover that I missed the last time

I wonder if at some point I could make like an audio version of a recap as I read, because my reaction when I read the following was Something, but then again you'd have to deal with my pronunciation of the names and idk if I want that

anyway, blurb says "with Pyrrha, Camilla and Palamedes"

???????????????????????????????????????????

I thought it was judith and coronabeer twin??????

I'm gonna change her name from regina george twin to coronabeer twin now because she outlived her other nickname

she's the only nickname graduate so far

who took palmolive out of the tamagotchi river loft???????

who set him loose????

how is phyrrha there, she was with gideon/harrow/gideonharrow fusion??????

"each night, Nona dreams of a woman with a skull painted face"

don't we all

the list of books says "Nona the Ninth" and so does the title in the paratext

instead of dramatis personae we have a guest list for a party

there are a lot of dogs invited to the party, which is nice

one of them has six legs

there's also people with BOE names

and one kevin, love to see it, I'll remember him

lots of meme potential there

there are some camilla annotations beside all the people from BOE allegedly nona wants to invite

still not seeing coronabeer and/or judith

gonna imagine that, wherever they are, they're making out

good for them

we got two poems after, the latter of which is a bit heart wrenching, I don't wanna ask about it

then we got a title that looks like a bible verse

had to google it and it is a verse about peter and a disciple finding jesus's tomb empty

ice cube barbie is locked tomb jesus confirmed

I've never mentioned this before but this has happened to me ever since book 1, and since it's here again I'm gonna say it

I have noticed I have a bad knee jerk reaction to the adjective 'fat' being used so often for so many things, but I'm trying to work thought it

don't wanna project my trauma onto unintended narrators

we got a summarized recount of events of what might be how emperor asshat and some of his lyctors got where they got from maybe present times???

there's talk about cryogenics for a lot of people and an evacuation plan from earth

and names are erased but we have some initials that could be augustine, mercygirl, cassiopeia and gideon

I don't think c is not!dulcinea because she was meant to be a newer model lyctor

during this recount he's in the beach alongside harrow, who he says he's gonna hurt

harrow apparently says she still loves him

gideon would be kicking him in the nuts

also, I thought the emperor was with yandere twin

what the hell happened between the two books???? where's everyone????

DAY ONE (hot sauce and 5 days until the tomb opens) CH 1

we've got a recorded statement of what feels to me like the Pool Situation Wink Wonk You Know The One

is she harrow??? or is harrow in the river with the emperor and this is a new person???? who is this????? is harrow's soul in the river???? where is gideon's perfectly preserved body that we knew camilla was carrying around with coronabeer and judith???

I don't know anything

but my wife is here, so it's all good

also, she's apparently sharing a body with palmolive now

so now the wife ideal turned into a polycule situation, I guess

didn't have that in my 2025 cards

I have two hands, apparently, idk

turns out, palmolive was somehow freed from his tamagotchi loft in the river and placed in camilla's body so they share it

how? by who? when?

glad you asked, I don't know

they're sharing space now, that's all I know

it's kind of like the lyctors should have been if the emperor wasn't an asshole, I guess

because it seems they can also switch easily and like coexist without totally cutting the other one out

it feels a lot healthier and organic in their relationship, even though palmolive is a soul guest

palmolive says camilla's body is a temple, so I'm glad we agree

pyrrha is also there, I assume taking over og!gideon's body fully, since he died, afaik

they're taking care of nona, who doesn't know who she is and they don't seem to know either, but if she has harrow's memories, I don't know what to tell you

they're living in a complicated militarized situation with few resources and little light use

palmolive thinks he could write explicit materials for a living but camilla doesn't want them to be remembered for that

palmolive wrote a lot of Things to his bae in correspondence, so maybe that's already part of his legacy

nona is sent to her room while palmolive and pyrrha argue about BOE acting weird

camolive want to rescue people, pyrrha thinks it's a bad idea and wants to get nona away from the planet

pyrrha also mentions a "she" that's crazier than camilla and makes references to commander wake me up when september ends but that one died???? twice????? so idk who this new "she" is

let's remember, for the record, that both og!gideon and pyrrha were Intimate with commander wake me up before we go go

apparently there are more people who are planet refugees in this one planet than two houses combined

which doesn't surprise me in the least, because that's how oppression often works, but is good to have it confirmed

heralds are also still a problem and camilla wants to fight them

pyrrha thinks that's a bad idea, because there's data of that not being possible

but she doesn't know that camilla hect is perfect and can do everything right always

it is important for me to clarify that, more than anyone ever in this book series, nona is the true definition of what in my land we refer to as: "está en un cumple"

the literal definition of the phrase means "she's in a birthday party"

the idiom definition is that someone is totally unaware of what is going on, without understanding what's around them, often used for people in a content state while unaware of a problem everyone else is worrying about

I truly think it's a very good way to describe her and I can't translate it in a way that feels the exact way, especially due to the party context

I headcanon her wearing this shirt

she also wants to save the animals, while camolive want to save the people

pyrrha is just tired and wants to retire to a farming planet to live in peace

I get it, though, imagine having to serve emperor asshat for so long

poor cavalier deserves some rest, og!gideon had the right idea when he exited the entire situation

saw an out with that fight in the river and left the chat

pyrrha is also worried about BOE capturing and torturing camolive for interrogation

and there seems to be an underlying plan between camolive and pyrrha that I'm not entirely sure of yet

nona, apparently, goes to school, because she's in a cumple, as previously established

going to school on top of the eye in the sky and the military issues and the social strife and the potential torturing doesn't sound ideal but very glad there's still an education system in place among all that

AND THAT'S IT FOR NOW!!! It's proving a bit complicated to do recaps with a paperback but I'm gonna try to find my footing!! See you on the next one!!

[thewidowsledger]

Good Luck, Babe

Chapter 3: A Fool | 4.2k

© thewidowsledger 2025 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Summary: The once secret, a forbidden love hidden from the world. Those stolen moments together had been thrilling, but ultimately, drove the person you truly love away from you. But when she left, she didn't just leave you; she also left you a part of herself that would constantly remind you of her for the rest of your life. This fragment of her essence became an indelible mark on your soul, shaping the course of your life in ways you never could have imagined.

You know what they say, when someone leaves, someone else will come.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Tags | Warnings: ANGST, r trying to win Natasha back and getting her attention, Natty being cold, heartless and mean (but still secretly possessive), cutie Aliah unintentionally trying to make Natasha jealous (daughter did the assignment🤙)

Author's Note: I wrote the lines of Aliah based on how toddlers would speak. Also, I have been meaning to ask what you all want to see next for this series after reading this chapter. Thank you in advance.

Navigation | Masterlist | Series Masterlist

⧗

You found yourself in a difficult situation, having to explain to your daughter that a significant change was about to take place. The truth was that the woman she had met at the store was her mama, and that the two of you were going to get married, well, she kind of blackmailed you into it but of course you're not going to tell your daughter that.

All she cared about was the beautiful dress that was sent to your apartment, as well as your wedding dress, which you're sure Natasha had chosen. She was so focused on the thought of wearing the dress that she didn't understand the implications of the situation or the fact that this wedding was a desperate attempt for you to keep her with you.

All she cared about was the chance to wear a beautiful dress to be a part of a special day with her mama and mommy.

"I do," Natasha spoke with her velvety voice. She was so calm compared to you.

"Do you take Natasha as your lawfully wedded wife?" The solemnizing officer turned to ask you.

Your world literally stopped. This is it, it's happening and there is no turning back. Your heart raced and your palms grew clammy as you hesitated to say the words. You froze, feeling a sense of panic wash over you as you realized the enormity of what would happen if you finally it. Natasha could feel your trembling hands and see the fear in your eyes, but then you looked over at your daughter, her face was filled with so much joy, excitement and innocence. In your entire life, you had never seen Aliah this happy—you couldn't take this away from her, so in that moment, all your doubts and fears faded away.

You took a sharp breath, closing your glossy eyes as you utter the words…

"I do."

⧗

Your daughter, Aliah, had immediately clicked with both her mama and her auntie Yelena. She was particularly excited and playful around Yelena, who was a person who matched her energy. As you all made your way to Natasha's place, where she told you, you would now be living together, Aliah was buzzing with excitement, eagerly asking questions about what your new life would be like.

She was sitting on Natasha's lap in the back seat, while you sat beside them, watching as she looked out the window with excitement. Suddenly, she turned to Natasha and shouted, "I wan' a wower coaster in house, mama!"

"That's quite a request, kiddo." Yelena, who was driving, chuckled from the front seat.

"I could do that for my princess." Natasha assured with a wink.

And there you are sitting in silence—disassociating. Your mind was elsewhere as you stare at your wedding ring, replaying the events of the ceremony and the circumstances that had led to this moment. What if you didn't go to the groceries that night? Or what if you didn't ask your daughter to get the tub of your favorite yogurt? What if you came early that day so you could've gone to the market early as well? Then Aliah won't meet her mama, you wouldn't have to beg Natasha in court and look like the one desperate for you to marry her, but at the same time you wouldn't see Aliah this happy which you hadn't seen her since the day she was born.

The sound of Natasha's soft voice as she spoke to Aliah and the hum of the car's engine all faded into the background as you became lost in your own thoughts. You were physically present, but your mind was elsewhere entirely.

Your mind couldn't help but dwell on the memories of your past affair with Natasha, the woman who was now your wife. The irony wasn't lost on you as you sat beside them, listening as they laughed together.

Your daughter and your wife.

It was difficult to reconcile the idea that you were now married to her when just a few years ago back in college, you had always been averse to the idea. She had always wanted more from the relationship affair, she used to have plans for the both of you but you refused and always avoided it when she brought it up.

Gods, they both looked like each other.

"Okay, we're here." Yelena said as she pulled up the car. Your disassociation was cut through as you looked around—the imposing figure of the palatial mansion loomed in front of you, the soothing sound of the fountain in the entrance hall cutting through the fog in your mind.

In college, you had known about Natasha's family's generational wealth. Whenever you teased her about it, she would brush it off, saying her parents were the rich ones, not her. And for some reason, she never seemed comfortable talking about her parents, her father in particular. It was always a conversation that she tried to avoid.

Your daughter raced past Natasha, her little legs scurrying as she excitedly explored the unfamiliar surroundings.

"Aliah! Don't run!" You reminded your daughter, finally, there are words getting out of your mouth.

Once you get inside, there is already some extravagant meal prepared for you. And then after, Natasha took you and your daughter on a tour of the expansive home.

She knelt down to speak with your daughter. "This is going to be your room," she said warmly, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Do you like it?"

"This is mine, m-mama?" She whispered. Your daughter's eyes widened as she looked around the room, taking in the new surroundings. She walked over to the bed, her small hands reaching out to touch the soft blankets.

Natasha stood, watching the amusement of her daughter, "All yours, princess."

Your daughter turned to look at you as if waiting she's for your approval, when you finally nodded she let out a loud shout, her voice echoing through the room. "Mommy! Mommy! I have my own room!" she exclaimed, her face lit up with a huge smile. "Thank you, thank you, thank you Mama!"

A wide grin spread across her face as she plopped herself onto the bed, burying her face into the pillows.

"A' we all gon' sleep here?!" She turned to look at you again, but this time her eyes landed between you and Natasha, her excitement palpable but yours died down with her question.

Natasha walked towards your daughter. "No, baby, we'll be in our separate rooms," she spoke oh-so-gently. "But I suppose we can...sometimes? You know?"

Well, you really thought you would share the same bedroom as Natasha, guess you're not.

Your daughter is still too young to fully comprehend that and everything at all, she looked up with innocent eyes at her mama and to you who hasn't stepped inside her room just yet. But she eagerly nodded and turned to sprint around her new room.

"You have your room just across, Aliah." Natasha told you nonchalantly as she walked towards you. You were tempted to ask where hers is, but you held your tongue. Instead, you replied, "I think I'll stay with Liah for a few more nights, at least until she's adjusted. We share the same bed back in my apartment; this is her first time having her own room."

You couldn't help but feel impressed with yourself for maintaining a calm tone with her. It was a far cry from your unexpected reunion a week ago in the courtroom, where you had literally begged her on your knees for her not to take Aliah. Even when she kind of blackmailed you into marriage to keep your daughter with you which you had agreed with no hesitation. This was the first time in a long time that you had spoken to Natasha without letting your emotions take control.

But now, you couldn't help but hope that this marriage would mark a new beginning for you and Natasha. A chance to leave the past behind and start anew. Deep down, you knew it wouldn't be easy to make amends, but you were determined to do whatever it takes to make things right between the two of you.

Because you still love her. After all these years, it's still her.

⧗

Natasha informed you that she had enrolled Aliah in an international school and classes would start in a week to allow for adjustment. With your interactions limited to discussions about Aliah, you felt a growing desire to initiate conversations with her.

"Hey, Nat. I prepared breakfast." You greeted Natasha with a warm smile. It had been a week since you had moved into her home together, and it had been a week since the two of you had married. However, you had rarely seen Natasha during breakfast as she was always busy with work. Today, you woke up early and prepared breakfast for her, along with a packed lunch to take with her to her work. You packed her some teriyaki chicken, onigiri and some grapes. It was the go-to lunch you two always have in college.

You even pampered yourself, putting some make-up on early in the morning, so you'd look…beautiful? No, definitely not, presentable is the right word to put it…or is it not? You, yourself don't even know what you're trying to look like. You just want to look like the wife who prepares food for her partner, that's it, nothing more. You're definitely not trying to attract her.

Natasha's reaction to your offering was unexpected. She regarded you with a lingering stare from head to toes, but instead of accepting your gesture or at least noticing your…pampered self that's just for her? She simply walked away. She didn't say a word, leaving you standing there like a sales lady offering some products to a customer only to be ignored by them.

You tried to rationalize Natasha's behavior in your mind, not realizing the tears that started to fall down your cheeks. You told yourself that maybe she was tired from her demanding job which you have no idea what is, what you only know is she is now an owner of a big transportation company.

You were painfully aware that Natasha hadn't forgiven you yet, and you knew it was going to be a long and challenging journey to earn her forgiveness.

As for you daughter, there is not a single day went by without Natasha having a playdate with Aliah and sometimes you couldn't help but feel jealousy, unsure of who to be more envious of—Natasha or your own child. It was funny and heartwarming to watch the two of them spend time together. You couldn't help but notice how Aliah had picked up on some of Natasha's mannerisms, like the way she would pull her hair up just like her mother, or how Aliah had mimicked the little huff that Natasha does when she's upset. You also had noticed how Natasha and your daughter moved in sync, their movements mirroring each other's as if they were connected on a deeper level. Whether it was the way they walked, the way they gestured, or even the way they carried themselves, there was an uncanny similarity between the two of them.

"Teriyaki!" Your daughter shouted as she charged towards the table, you immediately wiped your tears carefully not to ruin your make-up and of course for your daughter not to see.

"You wook beautifuw, mommy." Aliah hugged your waist and you leaned to kiss her forehead.

"It's make-up baby." You giggled lightly as you put her down her chair. She probably noticed your make-up on.

"You stiw beautifuw. But I wike it more when you don' have 'em because a wot of guys wooks at you. Wike the man in the mawket yestewday." Your daughter muttered as she recalled the moment where a guy boldly went out and offered to help you reach a tray of eggs that is literally on your level to reach. At first, you thought the guy was just being kind but when you kind of flexed your wedding ring as you reached some seasonings with your left hand, you swear, the man almost bolted out of the market.

"So you're saying people just look at me when I have make-up on, young girl?" You asked playfully, trying to sound hurt and offended.

"No! Mommy is beautifuw even without cowors in her face!"

Natasha had been within earshot and overheard the exchange between you and Aliah. She had intended to give her daughter a quick kiss goodbye, but Aliah had already darted towards you and the teriyaki you originally prepared for her but she painfully ignored.

After she's done lingering like a creep staring at you, she finally gets going and shuffles her car key. As she walks towards the front door, Rick is there, the butler of her manor.

"Make sure she never has to go to the market again, especially alone."

⧗

Every single day, you would wake up early and put in the effort to prepare breakfast and pack a lunch for Natasha. But despite your earnest efforts, she would either not show up for breakfast or stealthily leave the house without a word, leaving you clueless and baffled. When you asked the housekeeper where she was, they would simply inform you that she had already left for work. It was a constant, frustrating cycle that left you feeling more and more confused and neglected each day—it was an endless loop. But no matter how frustrated and disheartened you felt, you still insisted on doing something for Natasha every day. It was as if a part of you held onto the hope that eventually, she would acknowledge, appreciate your efforts and forgive you. Every gesture, every attempt to connect with her, felt like a desperate plea to earn her attention and love.

Despite the continuous rejection from Natasha, you decided to take extra care of your appearance. You would make sure your hair was perfect, your makeup was flawless but simple. You told yourself that it was for your own self-confidence and not an attempt to grab her attention. You definitely didn't want her to notice you more, definitely not…

Do you get frustrated having to meet your own needs every night? Definitely not.

Natasha didn't outwardly soften her heart towards you, but she wanted to see how far you were willing to go, how much effort you were willing to exert to win back her favor. Of course, she secretly took notice of every gesture you did, every breakfast and packed lunch that she had painfully ignored just to look heartless and cold, and every time you put in extra effort to put into your appearance made it not easy for her. She definitely did not jerk herself off first thing in the morning at work after seeing you with just a huge shirt and dolphin shorts that did nothing to cover your legs. She felt like you were testing her…teasing her but she knew you were just trying to earn her forgiveness—that you would be on your feet to earn it.

She found a twisted sense of satisfaction in witnessing you trying to hide your disappointment and how your eyes become teary everytime she ignores you. Natasha was able to keep you on edge, constantly striving to earn an ounce of attention. This subtle form of control kept you unbalanced and unsure of where you stood with her, which only served to make you try even harder to win her back.

You were so amenable, submissive, and desperate. God, she wants to break you.

You had carefully planned a dinner for the three of you, and you decided to reach out to Natasha about it as soon as you woke up. You framed it as if it was your daughter's idea, even though it was really your own idea. Fortunately, Natasha agreed to it without much fuss, as she would do anything for her daughter. After the small talk she immediately excused herself once again ignoring the packed lunch you awkwardly handed her.

To your surprise, during the dinner Yelena was present, a factor you hadn't initially factored in, but you ultimately decided not to pay it much mind since Aliah was really happy to see her auntie again. The three of you sat down to eat together for the first time in many weeks.

During dinner, Yelena took it upon herself to strike up a conversation. "Do you still work, Y/N?" she inquired.

"Oh yeah, I just took some work break…before the wedding." You nodded, trying not to sound so awkward. You actually took a break since you were summoned to court about the custody of your daughter. The shit had you stopping everything you're supposed to do.

Yelena turned her attention towards Aliah. "And you huh?" she scrunched her face on your daughter who cannot stop giggling whenever she sees Yelena, "Is your new school okay?"

"Yeah! I got new friends, tata!" She clapped her hands together, a broad smile on her face. You couldn't help but giggle faintly at her reply reaching over and gently ruffling her hair. "But mama I wan' you to come with mommy to pick me up next time because someone asked for mommy's phone."

"Oh that's…that's not. That's the school's—"

"Shit!" Natasha cursed under her breath when her wine glass suddenly hit the ground.

"I got it," you quickly spoke, your voice filled with eagerness to please…her.

"Natasha! What are you doing?!" Yelena whispered to her sister. Well, let's just say that she wanted to test your desperation and she enjoyed the thrill of having you so consumed by her, trying so hard to gain her approval. And she hated hearing that you were getting attention from others.

She watched you as you scrambled to stand up and circle your way to the table, you knelt down to her side.

Fuck, she cannot definitely have these thoughts during dinner with her daughter right in front of her.

As you continued to clean up the mess on the floor, Yelena spoke up, eyeing her sister intently as if she's trying to scold her using just her eyes. "Y/N, the housekeeper can do that," she said gently. "You might hurt yourself."

There was a brief moment of silence in the room after Yelena spoke up. Natasha simply said, "Yeah." Then, without waiting for a response, she rose from her seat and avoided your kneeling form on the floor and walked towards your daughter, she kissed her good night, and announced that she needs to retire early because she has an important meeting tomorrow.

You watched her disappear as you're still crouched down on the floor, the blood from your ring finger threatening to fall as well as the tears in your eyes.

⧗

You made sure to talk to her before she left for work so you woke up early and reheated the dinner you had last night. Just as she's about to head out the front door, you call out to her immediately. She was rushing as if she already knew you were waiting for her. Natasha rolled her eyes before turning around, her expression guarded as she looked back at you.

As always, she noticed you were wearing a little make-up on and a packed lunch in both of your hands.

"G-good morning, Nat." Of course, you're stuttering, this is the 8th time you will talk to her and once again, about your daughter. Before she could even get bored of you, which you noticed she was, you immediately flashed her a smile, "I-uh Aliah has a performance later and she wanted you to be there. I wasn't able to tell you last night b-because you left early. Also, I…I uh reheated dinner last night so you'll have lunch at work."

"Okay, time?" She asked flatly, noticing how you tried to hide your ring finger that is wrapped with a small patch of gauze.

"Uhm, 4 p.m." You nodded, awkwardly clutching the packed lunch on your right hand while you hid your left on your back.

She takes it with a heavy, almost reluctant sigh, her fingers barely brushing against yours. "You know you don't have to do all this right? Someone gets paid to do this."

"I just wanna do something nice," you smiled awkwardly at her. It's not too late for that right?

God, she hated that smile. She rolls her eyes skyward, the gesture hidden from your view as she quickly turns away. Not bothering to reply.

"Bye, take care, Natty."

Natasha's shoulders tense briefly, upon hearing the nickname. It was the one you coined during college and she hasn't heard it not until now. The temptation to whirl around and scream that you have lost the right to call her that burns like fire in her chest. She envisions the shock, the pain, the breaking in your eyes at her words and she would love every bit of it.

But she bit back as she continued her way to the door handing the lunch she took from you to one of the housekeepers.

"Throw that away."

⧗

The minutes tick by slowly as you wait for Natasha. You called her phone number, it was actually her work phone number that she gave you and strictly told you to only call or text if it's about Aliah. Your daughter who was backstage keeps on peeking through the curtains, looking at you with hopeful eyes, checking if her mama is already with her mommy. You can only give her a thumbs up and a big smile whenever you see her.

But the performance is wrapping up, still no sign of Natasha.

As soon as the final curtain falls, you rush to where Aliah is sitting, a bouquet of her favorite flowers in your hand.

"Hi baby, you did great!" you beamed but you found her sitting with her head down, her usual bright eyes dimmed. Aliah wraps her arms around you tightly as soon as you pull her into your embrace, burying her face in your chest.

"Are you sad because mama wasn't here?" Your daughter nodded, you are too, you were sad and disappointed. But you covered up for your wife. "Mama called me and she was busy because she said she is preparing a surprise for you."

Aliah pulls back slightly, her eyes wide with curiosity. "A suwpwise?" she repeats. You force a smile, you don't like lying to your daughter and this makes your heart heavy with disappointment but determined to shield your daughter from the truth that her mama didn't show up even though she said yes to it. "Yes, sweetheart. Mama's been really busy preparing something special just for you." You pinched her cheeks that made her finally smile and giggle, "Don't tell mama I told you okay?" You whispered to her, your point finger resting on your lips while your daughter mimicked the act nodding eagerly.

You carefully tuck Aliah into bed, making sure she's fast asleep before Natasha even has a chance to get home. You know your daughter will be bombarding her with questions if you two both waited, and you're not sure Natasha has an answer ready for her. Besides, Natasha has no idea about the surprise you told your daughter she prepared for her, unless she read the text messages you flooded her with.

So you waited alone.

Natasha was just steps away but you immediately catch a whiff of something other than her usual perfume you use to smell every morning when you wait for her—the distinct scent of alcohol. She's been out drinking instead of showing up to your daughter's performance? You sigh internally, knowing this is going to be a long night. But still, you gave her a benefit of the doubt.

"Hey," you say quietly.

She tries to avoid you by heading towards her office, but you follow closely behind her.

"Natty, I cooked dinner for you. If you're hungry, they're downstairs or I can bring them to you."

"I'm not hungry," she husked, as she entered her office she left the door slightly open. You hesitate for a moment before following her inside, closing the door behind you.

As you were inside you immediately noticed Natasha leaning against her desk, trying to steady herself. You reach out to support her, but Natasha suddenly straightens up, pushing your hand away with a harsh grunt. "Don't fucking touch me," she snarls. She stumbles slightly, almost falling, before managing to catch herself on the chair.

"I-I'm sorry…" came as your second nature of response and you don't even know if she heard it.

"Can you fucking…" Natasha closed her eyes as if to calm herself, then opened again. She looked at you with half-lidded eyes. "Just stop doing all this, stop playing house. Stop cooking stupid breakfast, lunch or dinner for me…just, just fucking stop. Stop playing like a caring wife 'cause you're not."

But you do. You care. You love her—you still do.

But you have been a fool to think that she asked you to marry her for the two of you to start over with your daughter. This marriage is just for Aliah and now it's clear to you.

You nodded slowly, biting your inner lip to suppress the tears that were threatening to fall. "I uh…I told Aliah that you were preparing a surprise for her since you didn't show up to her performance earlier. Just make sure you have it prepared first thing in the morning tomorrow. Good night, Natasha."

[stormyoceans]

MONICA'S INCREDIBLY BIASED TOP 5 GL SHOWS OF 2024

1. the loyal pin. a period piece QL with a (believable) happy ending and a fairytale-like quality to it that was able to charm me from the very first episode. while the pace of the story can definitely be slow at times, i was personally just too absorbed in the world that this show created to mind it. the display of traditions, customs, and food from thai culture, along with the beautiful cinematography and the colorful cast of characters, all helped to achieve this fully immersive experience, giving the perfect frame for anin and pin’s romance. becky as anin was also a revelation.

2. ayaka-chan wa hiroko-senpai ni koishiteru. I ADORE THIS LITTLE SHOW WITH ALL MY HEART AND SOUL. i admit that, as a bisexual woman myself, i found the bisexual erasure pretty maddening at first, however i am willing to forgive it in the face of how bright, lively, sweet, and at the same time deep and full of emotion this series is. it’s an age difference office romance that actually addresses the generational gap between the leads by exploring how society’s view on queerness changed throughout the years, and it does so by being funny, delicate, and unapologetically lesbian.

3. reverse 4 you. this is where my bias comes through, because while this show is far from perfect, i have the biggest soft spot for it. in general i tend to really enjoy stories that feature any kind of time related powers, but compared to others the true strength of this series is the familial bond between wa and vi, which shines as much (if not more) than the romantic relationship between wa and four. i do feel like the story needed at least one more episode to wrap up the loose ends more neatly, as some things kinda left me baffled and pretty confused, but my love for this little family of three makes me willing to overlook everything else.

4. pluto. if my meter of judgement to make this list had only consisted in chemistry and performance, then this show would have definitely landed in the first three spots, as namtan and film are incredible in it (the bridge scene in episode 11 is one of the most memorable of the year for me), however some of the plot points don’t sit quite right with me, and the execution of others was a bit lacking, so i unfortunately had to detract a few points. still, i enjoyed the show a lot: it presented a unique story in an interesting way, there was never a dull moment, and not once i skipped the intro because the OST is just amazing.

5. the secret of us. this show being so low in the list doesn't sit quite right with me, but at the same time it doesn't have the originality or the effectiveness in storytelling that other ones have. what it has, however, are ling and orm showcasing fantastic chemistry and very natural acting, which elevated a plot that im not usually particularly fond of (exes meeting again years later) and gave a lot of personality to their characters. the happy ending also feels earned, and some of the side characters are very memorable.

+ honorable mention (because once again, im a cheater)

23.5. i wanted to do a quick shout-out to this show because i feel like the fandom tends to give it a way harsher judgement than it deserves. while the second half did have a few things that bothered me, i still find this show a very accurate representation of teenage emotions, and the way it depicts young queer love healed the part of me that didn't have this kind of series growing up. all in all, it brought me a lot of comfort, and im incredibly grateful for that.

[thyras]

→ of the purest heart

PAIRING → halbrand | sauron x female!elf!reader

WORD COUNT → 4k words

SERIES → of sauron & the moriquendi

WARNINGS → more angst, arguments, and sacrifices

SUMMARY → you continue to struggle with your emotions over your husband, but in one final act you make your choice.

AUTHORS NOTE → so i originally was not going to go past twelve parts, but in normal sam fashion that looks like it will not be enough. i am for real taking a break after this, i need to watch s2 again so i can map out that part of the story, i have things in the works but i need to refresh my mind on stuff. hope y'all enjoy 💕

PARTS → one // two // three // four // five // six // seven // nine

The heaviness in your chest pressed down on you as you stared blankly at the ceiling of your chambers. The weight of your emotions was nearly suffocating, yet the crisp morning air filling your lungs brought a fleeting clarity. But even the coldness in the air carried a presence—one so distinct that it made your skin prickle.

You rolled over, expecting to find something, someone, yet all that greeted you were the soft rays of sunlight streaming through the slits in your balcony doors. The quiet stillness of the room should have been reassuring, but instead, it unsettled you.

Then, something caught your eye.

A flicker—a silver glint in the light. It drew your attention so sharply that you sat up, your breath catching in your throat. Across the room, on your dressing table, sat an object you thought long lost to time and memory.

It was unmistakable.

A piece of your old life, placed so carefully that it seemed almost like an offering of peace. Yet, as you swung your legs over the side of the bed, you hesitated. The mere sight of it made your heart race, both in recognition and in dread.

It was not the same as you remembered.

The object almost radiated with a shadowy presence, its aura heavy and dark despite the faint trace of light that still clung to it, reminiscent of the night you were wed. The silver’s once pure gleam was now marred, the diamond-like gems that once adorned it replaced with shimmering sapphires that mirrored the one on your chain. The delicate etching and petals in the silver twining were new, masterfully crafted, but there was an unease in its beauty.

A tear slipped down your cheek, unbidden, as though your soul mourned its transformation. The craftsmanship was breathtaking, yet it carried an undeniable malice, a darkness woven into its very ore.

You dared not touch it.

Its beauty was a lie—a shroud masking the malice and hate you knew it held within. To touch it would be to invite its shadow into your heart, and you could not bear to carry its weight.

So you sat there, staring at the object that had once symbolized love and light, now twisted into something unrecognizable. It was a reflection of him, a reminder of how far he had fallen—and of the distance that now lay between you both.  

But that part of you that still craved him—coveted him, even—seemed to pull you toward the hairpiece. It called out to you in the same way the mark on your arm did on certain nights, an irresistible pull that you could neither fight nor understand. Slowly, you rose from your bed, your bare feet silent against the cool floor as you crossed the room.

Your hand hovered over the piece, suspended in indecision. You braced yourself for the familiar burning, the searing pain from the mark that would drag you into the darkness threatening to consume you. But there was nothing—no pain, no fire.

Tentatively, your index finger traced the silvery metal, its surface cold beneath your touch. The sensation was chilling, but it was not the temperature that sent shivers through you. It was the shadow, the unmistakable weight of his presence, like an embrace both tender and suffocating.

The sharp fingers of his darkness seemed to clench around your heart, pulling at the very core of your fëa. How could you not love him? It was a question that gnawed at you, sharp and relentless. He was intertwined into your very being, woven so deeply that no force in Arda could unravel it.

But then, how could you also hate him so profoundly?

Your body and heart betrayed your mind as your fingers continued to caress the ridges and delicate flows of the metalwork. The intricate design spoke of his brilliance, his mastery, his unrelenting pursuit of perfection. It was undeniably Mairon. It would always be him—no matter what shape he took, no matter what form or mindset he inhabited, it was always him.

The void that was Sauron, the shadow he had become, could never erase the memory of the light that was Mairon. And despite everything, despite the grief, the rage, and the pain, a part of you would always reach for him. Always.

Your fingers closed around the hairpiece, gripping it tightly as if to crush the weight of its presence. The tightening in your chest returned, sharp and unrelenting, a familiar ache that you refused to succumb to. You squeezed the delicate metalwork, the cold silver biting into your palm as you reached for your robe with trembling hands.

How dare he, you thought, your anger flaring to life and burning away the sorrow, if only for a moment.

You stormed out the door, your steps quick and determined. The corridors blurred as you moved, each stride fueled by the fiery indignation coursing through your veins. You would confront him. You would demand to know how he dared to think that this one relic of the past, however beautiful, however meaningful, could sway you.

And yet, as the thought settled, you faltered.

Because, for a fleeting moment, it had swayed you.

The memory of his touch, his voice, his presence wrapped around you like a phantom, and you hated how much you wished to fall into the void with him. To forgive him for everything—for the destruction, for the betrayal, for the pain he had wrought upon your lives and your love.

The thought shamed you, but it was there, undeniable. That fragile piece of your heart that still yearned for him, that whispered of a life where the darkness had not taken him, where the light of Mairon had shone brightly beside you, untainted by shadow.

But you couldn’t let it consume you. Not now.

You tightened your grip on the hairpiece, the cool metal grounding you as you pushed forward. The confrontation would come, and when it did, you would remind him—and yourself—of the strength that still burned within you. A strength forged in the love he had destroyed and the resolve you had built in its place.

As you followed the invisible tendrils that bound you to him, they led you to the courtyard, where the sight before you stopped you in your tracks. He stood with Galadriel, their heads inclined toward one another, their conversation low and intimate. You lingered by one of the ivy-covered pillars, your elven ears catching fragments of their words. Though the content was veiled, the tone was not.

The heat rushed to your face, anger and jealousy blooming as you watched him lean in to whisper something into her ear.

She stepped back, her expression unreadable, and his lips curved into a soft smile before he turned away from her. Your heart pounded, your grip tightening on the hairpiece in your hand as he began to walk, his long stride quickly closing the distance between you.

His dark emerald eyes met yours, and you knew instantly that he had seen everything—your fury, your pain, the jealousy that you couldn’t fully conceal. He lingered before you, his gaze intent, a hint of amusement dancing in those cursed eyes.

“Something wrong, my lady?” he asked, his silvery voice smooth and teasing, the knowing smile that played on his lips only adding fuel to the fire raging in your chest.

He knew. He always knew. He was playing you, twisting the strings of your emotions with precision, as though it were a game only he could win.

“No,” you hissed, barely restraining the venom in your voice. But before the word fully escaped your lips, you forced yourself to collect your composure.

He inclined his head slightly, the motion laced with mock courtesy, and stepped away, moving toward the forge with a grace that only deepened your frustration.

You stood rooted to the spot, your hand trembling with the effort to keep from reacting. As his figure disappeared from view, the fire in your chest only burned brighter. You hadn’t noticed Galadriel approaching until her soft voice broke through the haze of your fury.

“Thilwen?” she asked gently.

Your gaze snapped to hers, and you quickly softened your expression, letting go of some of the tension in your features.

“What can I do for you, my lady?” you asked politely, tilting your head slightly as you observed her curious expression.

“Is Lord Halbrand spending all his time with Lord Celebrimbor?” she asked.

The question was not unusual, given your position as Celebrimbor’s most trusted confidant. You nodded slightly, masking your unease.

“It would seem so. Is something the matter I should know?”

Galadriel smiled warmly, but her sharp blue eyes betrayed the hidden suspicion beneath her outward kindness.

“No, I wish not to worry you,” she said, though her gaze dropped pointedly to your hands. Her eyes lingered on your fingers, still tightly gripping the hairpiece. “That piece— is it yours?”

You glanced down at the hairpiece in your hands and then back up at her, nodding with measured calm.

“It is,” you replied, carefully choosing your words. “A gift from someone very close to me. I wore it when I was wed.”

You dared not say more, aware of the quiet scrutiny in her gaze. Galadriel’s curiosity was often masked in diplomacy, but you knew better than to underestimate her perceptiveness.

“May I?” she asked, holding out her hand.

You hesitated for a moment, your grip tightening instinctively around the piece. But after a pause, you placed it in her outstretched hand, watching her carefully as she examined it.

She turned it over gently, her fingers tracing the delicate silver etching. For a moment, you half-expected her to recoil from the shadowy aura that clung to it, but she showed no such reaction. Instead, her expression remained serene, almost thoughtful.

Something inside you stirred uneasily. She had touched your husband’s darkness before—you could feel it. And unlike most, she seemed unbothered by its sweet, insidious allure.

Galadriel handed the hairpiece back to you, her movements smooth and deliberate. You accepted it wordlessly, your mind racing.

“It looks like something I wore at my own, though this one is far more exquisite. Thank you for letting me see it.” she said softly, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before she turned to leave.

As she walked away, you clutched the hairpiece tighter, your heart pounding. Her quiet interest left you with an unsettling sense that she understood far more than she let on.

You slammed the hairpiece down onto the workbench, the sharp sound echoing through the empty forge. Halbrand, standing opposite you, removed his gloves with deliberate slowness, laying them carefully on the other side of the bench. His brow lifted slightly as his gaze lingered on you, watching your seething anger with an expression that bordered on amusement—satisfaction, even, as though he was reveling in the effect he had on you.

The forge was quiet at mid-afternoon, but you knew better than to assume you were entirely alone. Elven ears were keen, and whispers traveled quickly, so you fought to keep your voice low, controlled.

“What is this?” you asked, your voice sharp but composed, though you could feel the fury bubbling just beneath the surface.

A sickly smile spread across his face as he leaned in, the distance between you shrinking until there were only inches left. His emerald eyes glimmered with that same insufferable arrogance, yet they drew you in despite yourself.

“It’s a gift,” he breathed, his voice smooth and laced with something dangerous. His breath was warm and spiced, washing over your face, making your heart hammer uncontrollably in your chest. “To complete your set, as I always meant to all those years ago.”

Your index finger jabbed at his chest, your glare unwavering even as his fingers wrapped around your wrist. The touch sent a jolt through you, electric and impossible to ignore, just like the brief contact you’d had the night before.

“If you think this—” you began, your voice trembling slightly, but he cut you off.

“Will do what, Mori?” he murmured, his voice low and intoxicating as he leaned even closer. Your noses were nearly touching, and your eyes fluttered shut involuntarily as the heat of his presence enveloped you.

You braced for the searing pain you always felt when he was near, but it didn’t come. There was only a dull ache in your wrist, a strange reprieve that left you off-balance. Your finger faltered, dropping from his chest as confusion mingled with the fury roiling inside you.

“You claim to not want to forgive me,” he continued, his voice soft but cutting, “but all I can taste on your fëa is the urge to forgive.”

His fingers traced up your wrist, slipping beneath the sleeve of your robe. The warmth of his touch against your bare skin sent a shiver down your spine, one that blossomed outward and left you trembling. It was a sensation you hadn’t felt in an Age, awakening something you had long buried, and it frightened you how easily he was unraveling your defenses.

“Your thoughts betray you,” he whispered, his lips so close you could feel the faintest brush of his breath.

Every fiber of your being screamed at you to pull away, but the pull of his presence, his words, was impossible to resist. He was plucking the strings of your harp, and the melody was one you both knew far too well. His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, the faintest contact sending ripples of heat through your very core. “Come to me,” he breathed, his voice a low, magnetic pull that wrapped around your mind. “Fall back into my arms, and let’s be who we were always meant to be.”

Your breath caught, your chest tightening as your eyes slammed shut, shutting out everything but the sound of his voice and the warmth of his touch.

You wanted to. You wanted to more than anything. The desire burned within you, an ache that refused to be extinguished, no matter how much you fought against it. His hands gripped your forearms softly, almost reverently, and the darkness he carried wrapped around you like a sweet, intoxicating fog. Its scent was alluring, tempting you to surrender.

But then, with a sharp intake of breath, you opened your eyes and yanked yourself back from his embrace.

“Get out of my head,” you snarled, your voice sharp and unwavering.

His eyes darkened instantly, the brilliant emerald of his gaze bleeding into a rich, consuming black as he stared down at you. The shift would have terrified most, but not you. It never had.

You were not frightened of him—not of his darkness, not of his power. You were frightened of the part of yourself that still longed for him, that ached to fall into his arms despite everything he had become.

But you would not yield. Not to his silvery words, his gentle touches, or the manipulations that dripped from his every word.

Like he had with you.

You had pledged to love him, no matter what—but that pledge had not included this. The schemes, the grand desires, the manipulations, the lies. You had promised to love the being he truly was, the Mairon you had once known, not the manipulator he had become.

You stood taller, meeting the dark abyss of his gaze with defiance. “I loved the light in you,” you said, your voice low but steady. “Not the shadow that consumes you now.”

For a moment, his expression flickered—just a moment—but you held firm. You would not be swayed. Eru had given you that power—the strength to resist, even when the very song that created both of you cried out for you to lose yourself in him, to let the harmony bind you once more.

“Keep it, deceiver,” you said forcefully, your voice sharp with finality. You spun around to leave, but his fingers caught your wrist with startling speed, blunt nails digging into your skin just enough to make you wince.

Your eyes snapped to his, meeting those abyssal depths that seemed to pull at your very soul. They were dark, unrelenting, and they watched you with a fierce intensity that made your chest tighten.

“I have never once deceived you, Mornelótë,” he said, his voice low and edged with darkness.

You swallowed hard, the use of your name a dagger to your resolve, but you steadied yourself.

“Then what were those centuries when you hid who you really were?” you retorted, your voice trembling with anger. “Stop deceiving yourself in these attempts to rationalize what you’ve done, Sauron.”

The name cut him, just as you knew it would. He snarled, his grip tightening as he yanked you closer. Pain surged through your wrist as his blunt nails seemed to sharpen with the force of his fury. His abyssal gaze bore into you, and you could feel the weight of his hatred for that name.

“Do not call me that,” he growled, his voice thick with barely restrained rage.

“That is who you are, is it not?” you countered, your brow arching with mock sincerity. “Or have you taken on another I should know about?”

He said nothing, his silence stretching between you like a taut string ready to snap. His gaze never wavered, unblinking as he studied you, but the minutes dragged by, and still he did not speak.

Finally, you yanked your wrist free with a sharp motion, shaking his grip off violently. “You know what?” you said, your voice cold as you reached for the hairpiece on the workbench.

With a mock smile, you let out a chilling giggle, the sound reverberating in the quiet forge. “I think I’ll keep it. I could get a pretty penny for these jewels and ores, you know. Since they’re the work of a master smith of Aulë himself.”

You gave him a mocking bow, your sarcasm biting, and turned on your heel to leave. Without looking back, you strode into the corridor, your steps quick and purposeful as you disappeared from sight.

The moment you were out of his presence, you let out a shaky breath, the tension in your chest loosening slightly. Relief washed over you—not only from being free of his dark gaze, but from the knowledge that you had stood so close to him, felt his power pressing down on you, and still had not given in.

For now, you were still yourself.

He did not invade your mind, nor did he speak to you during the moments when you checked on Celebrimbor’s progress. Yet, you always felt the weight of his gaze, dark and heavy, lingering on you like a shadow. He was waiting, hoping to provoke you—a word, a reaction, anything—but you gave him nothing.

So when he didn’t appear, and Galadriel stormed in, soaked to the skin with Elrond close behind her, your stomach twisted in unease. Her fear was palpable, reflected in her wide eyes, and the look she gave you—somewhere between understanding and resolve—confirmed what you feared most.

He told her. And he was gone.

You thought grimly, though you didn’t dare voice it.

“None of us are to treat with him again,” Galadriel declared, her voice steely and final.

The words sent chills down your spine, and you struggled to keep your emotions in check as Elrond pressed her for more. Their voices blurred together, becoming background noise as your mind raced, your heart pounding in your ears. He would return. You were certain of that. Celebrimbor was what he needed, and you—you—were what he wanted.

He would not abandon either.

“So, do we proceed?” Celebrimbor asked, rubbing his temple as though the weight of the moment was bearing down on him.

“No,” Galadriel said firmly. “We must make three.”

“Three?” you asked, hesitant to even speak, unsure if you could fully trust your voice.

“One will always corrupt. Two will divide,” she explained, her tone decisive, and you silently cursed yourself for not having thought of it sooner.

“But with three, there is balance,” you finished, the realization dawning as you met her gaze.

She nodded softly, her sharp eyes sweeping across the room, resting on each of you in turn. “What we forge here today must be for the elves, and the elves alone.”

The tension in the room grew, each word she spoke carrying a weight that settled over all of you like a heavy cloak.

“Galadriel, I have determined that the purity of the lesser ores in the alloy is crucial,” Celebrimbor said, nodding toward her brother’s dagger still clutched tightly in her hands.

You saw where his thoughts were leading and placed a steadying hand on his arm.

“Lady Galadriel has already sacrificed enough,” you said softly, your voice resolute. “Let me.”

You turned to the workbench where the hairpiece rested, its gleaming silver and sapphires catching the light. Taking a deep breath, you picked it up, its familiar weight in your hand grounding you for what came next.

“Use this,” you said, your voice firm, though your heart ached with the enormity of the gesture. You reached for the golden chain around your neck, unclasping it carefully. “And this.”

“My lady,” Celebrimbor said, his voice heavy with disbelief.

“They are the past, my lord,” you replied, meeting his gaze with quiet strength. “A past I have clung to for far too long.” You placed the chain into his hand alongside the hairpiece, gently closing his fingers around them. “True creation requires sacrifice,” you said, barely above a whisper.

“True creation requires sacrifice,” he repeated, his expression softening into a small, grateful smile.

You watched as he moved to the furnace, beginning to remove the jewels and prepare them for their transformation. Tears welled in your eyes and spilled over as the realization of what you were giving up settled over you.

That chain, that ruby, held Mairon’s light, the essence of the man you had loved—your husband, before he was swallowed by shadow. And the hairpiece, no matter how he had reforged it, held a piece of your soul. Together, they were the hearts of beings destined for each other, even through ages of pain and separation.

But no longer.

You had tried to heal him, to pull him from the darkness with your light, but it had not been enough. He was too far gone, and now you were finally letting go.

Galadriel stepped up beside you, placing a firm but gentle hand on your shoulder. Her grip was grounding, and her words carried a rare warmth. “The Valar will smile upon you this day, Thilwen, for your sacrifice. And you will see the golden shores for it.”

You turned to her, a faint, bleak smile on your lips. “Thank you, my lady,” you said softly, “but there is no place for me there. No ship could bear the weight of my fëa longing for its other half.”

“I know,” she whispered, taking your hand in hers as Celebrimbor placed the jewelry into the furnace.

The fire flared brightly, the glow lighting the room as if the pieces themselves mourned their destruction.

True creation requires sacrifice.

As the flames consumed what you had held so close for so long, you felt something shift within you. To heal the dark part of yourself, the part that had clung to what was, you had to let go completely.

You had been called to this moment, and with a pure heart, you had answered.

[writingsonsaturn]

mirrorball

{ masterlist } { the 'taylor swift' series }

🪐: so this was made in between like two weeks, so if it's a bit choppy and seems horrible im so sorry please forgive me i love you

wc - 1.2k

content warning: angsty, peter being an oblivious unappreciative boyfriend

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Everything you did was brushed off.

No matter how extravagant, or otherworldly, Peter was always either too busy working on making his suit better, or he was out saving other people. 

Obviously, you weren’t cold-hearted. 

It wasn’t the fact Peter was saving other people. It was the fact he never looked up to give you an honest five minute conversation anymore, or that he never saw, maybe not even cared about all the things you were doing for him. Trying to take the load of being a young superhero off his shoulders, you had started doing the laundry, dishes, making all meals, patching up his suits, and many, many more, painfully tiring tasks all in the name of love.

The only, and biggest problem here was that he never once said a simple ‘thanks!’ or any acknowledgement whatsoever that what you were doing was helpful. Although it wasn’t your goal to earn points in a system you weren’t even aware of, you still would’ve accepted even a simple head nod and kiss, but nope, nothing.

It all blew up on one fateful evening when you had just spent over four and a half hours making one of Peter's favorite meals for his birthday. 

You were so excited to show him the birthday gift that you had worked extra hours at your job for, everything was all set up in your teeny tiny living room and now all you had to do was sit and wait for your boyfriend to arrive home.

The click of the door sounded out through the apartment, announcing to the quiet apartment your boyfriend's arrival. “Hey, babe” Peter said as he walked into the apartment, he didn’t even look up and properly acknowledge your existence, he just simply knew you were always home before him. As he walked in you noticed he had the newspaper in his hand, probably another hit piece on Spider-Man, claiming he’s a monster.

“Hi, my love” you greeted him enthusiastically, walking over to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. He set the newspaper down and gave into your warmth, allowing his tense body to relax into your arms, then all of the sudden he pulled away.

“I'm sorry, baby, but I gotta get out in the city” his voice was fast-paced, almost giving you no time to process what he was doing. 

“Peter, are you joking?” you practically whispered, “It’s your birthday.”

Peter noticed the hurt expression on your face, and only then did he decide to look around and see everything you had set up for him. There were streamers hanging from the ceiling, a homemade sign that read “Happy Birthday, Spidey!” with little hand crafted webs around it up on the wall. Sat on the table was a homemade cake and a wonderfully prepared dinner. 

“Oh wow, Honey, this looks delicious! But i really have to go”

Your face dropped from the optimistic smile, to dead cold. You realised that you and your feelings will always be second best to his double life as a superhero.

“Peter, please for once can you just sit down, and have a goddamn conversation with me” you spoke lowly, nearly pleading for him to just sit down and give you the time of day. You think you might’ve actually, finally, be seeing how absolutely tired you looked. 

“For fucks sake, can you appreciate just this one fucking thing!” your voice gradually went louder for each syllable your sentence hit. The look of defeat portrayed in your eyes pierced through Peter’s soul, he felt his heart drop at how tired your face seemed, the way you seemed to have distanced yourself the moment he dismissed your thoughtful dinner. 

“It’s- It’s like you don’t even care anymore Peter” you weren’t yelling, which scared Peter more than if you were to be screaming five centimeters from his face and waving your hands, it was like you had given up. “I bought you a gift, open it before you leave” you whispered out before grabbing your bag and leaving. 

Peter’s eyes followed your sulking body out the door, before landing onto the gift sat nicely on the table with a red and blue ribbon tightly secured around the small square container. He walked toward the table with his head held low, gently picking up the present, as he opened it his eyes filled up with tears and he sat down on the edge of the couch, realizing how badly he had fucked this up.

Sitting in the box was the refurbished watch Uncle Ben wore, the glass protecting the arms of the watch had been shattered and links had been missing. Uncle Ben wanted to get it fixed but passed before he could get a chance. Peter remembered showing this exact watch to you when he took you to meet Aunt May, it was left on the dresser the two had shared, Aunt May never could put it away.

“Fuck” Peter exhaled, he set the watch down and ran out the door, he was desperate to find you and beg on his knees for your forgiveness. He was well aware he didn’t deserve that, but the thought of losing you had just crashed down over his head like a piano falling from the sky.

As soon as he got outside the air of the looming fall hit his face, as he frantically looked around he noticed your figure sitting on a bench right outside the apartment complex, watching the cars and people pass you by. Peter took a breath of relief before stepping closer, only to realize the tears glistening off your face.

“Baby, I am so, so, so incredibly sorry” he quickly tumbled out the words as if he couldn’t stop them, your eyes met his when you heard his pleas. He had no idea how badly you wanted to just say “it’s okay” and forget about this whole thing but you knew better. 

You knew doing that would only allow for that behavior to continue, and you just can’t go on like that anymore.

“I had to work extra hours to be able to pay for that to be refurbished, you know?” you said with a bittersweet undertone lacing your voice, “and it’s not even that, it’s the fact you just didn’t fucking care” the words came with your gasps for air as sobs tore through your throat, “you don’t care.”

Peter could only look at you in anguish, he fights villains, he stops your average bad guy on a daily basis, he can even tell when something dangerous is about to happen before it does, but he couldn’t tell his girlfriend was breaking before his very eyes with him being the root cause.

He was the hammer to your mirror.

Sitting down on the bench right next to you, he wrapped his arms around you and held you as you let out the most guttural sounds he’s ever heard come out of your body. He hates it. 

All Peter could do was rocking you back and forth, whispering apologies into your ear, promising to be better for you. 

You wanted to believe him, you really did, but all you could muster up was,

“Prove it.”

[thepretzelmemos]

keeping our hearts beating because we would live for each other.

the continuity of our desires for our future:

it would be so nice to see both of our toothbrushes placed in one holder.

i cannot wait for the day we have our own place, own pace, and own space.

I love you.

— "Living Together", How I Define Love

You have reached the end of the series. The author's note is available below.

Thank you so much for tuning in to this mini series. I enjoyed letting all my love out to this blog of mine. There will be more series to come! After all, I have so much love to give and treasure. I hope this piece of work inspires you in any precious manner. You are always loved.

With utmost sincerity, @thepretzelmemos

---

How I Define Love is a work of mine that all started in my journal. These writings have been kept only to myself... until now. I decided to share my works to let it be your craft, inspiration, idea, imagination, or anything that makes your mind, heart, or soul spark. As much as I want it to be the most raw and original, minor changes have been made to make it even more special than it already is. Enjoy ❤️

[butchcaseyjones]

i would sell my soul to see more moxie/ellington fanart

after all that they deserve to be wholesome lighthousecore lesbians

[brittie-frog]

I'm so down bad for Maddox and Ashlyn that my three favourite scenes are:

3. The Redlyn breakup - the chillest break up, Red supporting Ashlyn going after Maddox and the most insane storyline of Red realising he's bi because he kisses Seb

2. Just the entirety of Maddox during opening night - having an existential breakdown over your love life that you break the sound controls and then just give up on your stage manager duties and disappear (probably to help quinn)

1. The confession - a scene I want on repeat: the explanations of how afraid they are of how much they like the other then the "should we just stay friends?" Before having such a love induced make out their just completely ignore Carlos being there. (Also Maddison giving up and telling Maddox to stop coming back to her when she clearly likes Ashlyn... my baby just needed that push)

I love all my queer children but these two are the wlw so I love them just slightly more.

[righthandman-martyn]

FUCK YOU GUYS I NEED TO SAY THIS. PEARL AND SCAR ARE. SUCH AN UNDERRATED DUO. THEYVE ALWAYS BONDED SO WELL. IN HC DOUBLE LIFE AND IN SECRET LIFE. FAN ART OF SCAR BEING IN DISTRAUGHT THAT HE WON SECRET LIFE OR HES SEEING THE OTHER WINNERS. LOUD INCORREVT FUCKING BUZZRRRRRRRERRRRRRR SHENWOULD BE HUGGING HIM IN SPIRIT AND WHISPERING HOW PROUD SHE IS. SHE DIDNT WANNA FIGHT HIM AND HE DIDNT WANNA FIGHT HER, SHE WAS ENCOURAHING HIM TO WIN WITH HER MOUNDERS AND SHIT. AND ONCE SHE DEFEATED GEM, WHOM SHE ALSO DIDNT WANT TO FIGHT. IT WAS THOSE TWO. THOSE TWO. WHO STRUGGLED SO HARD IN THEIR LIVES. AND FINALLY FOUND PEACE WITH EACH OTHER. THOSE TWO UNDERSTOOD EACH OTHER THR BEST OUT OF EVERYONE. THEYRE MEANT FOR EACH OTHER (/P) THEU HURT MEY FUCKING SOUL.

[yokai-girlie]

“i’m watching bungo stray dogs for the plot” fucking LIAR

[morningstargirl666]

Favorite Line Tag Game

Rules: Share a favorite line that you've read or written that impacted you!

tagged by @that-sarcastic-optimist

I won't be in the history books; that's for you. But I loved you first. As long as they get that right, I don't care what they say.

~Not Easily Conquered

Tagging @stars-and-darkness

[brown-little-robin]

the terrible thing about having been into mp100 for several years now and rewatching and rereading it several times is I have started to rethink my first impressions of it. which is FANTASTIC except that now I need to go through and rework my character tags, hope no one new finds my old manic mp100 rambling, and probably officially abandon my old mp100 fic because the wonky characterization bugs me too much 😔

[outofmymindbebacklater]

well I for one, as someone who has read the books over 12 times, genuinely LOVE the changes they're making. it keeps it fresh! who knows what the next scene is gonna be? not me either

[eszter-hazy]

Soul Sisters conveyed so much with (arguably) so little and I mean it as a compliment maximus. It is just soooo perfeeeeect, I truly adored the vibe and the combination of fun and serious. It really made me want to be creative and free and create fun queer stuff freely and as you may know only the shows and films you like make you feel this way.

[spittingspite]

Thought about the okami sequel too hard again and instantly teared up I swear I've never been so happy and emotional over a game announcement in my life

[nantokanarusaa]

I'm so mad I never read ao no flag when it was an ongoing series. Would have been quite the experience to share with other people. Now I'm just here screaming things into the void and to myself.