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sinstear · 2 days ago

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first of all, the fact you wrote me a 14k fic for my birthday is insane?????? and this is genuinely the best gift ever, im being so serious. i can’t even pick parts because everything about this is so beautiful. so poetic, even with the heart shattering angst. im literally still at a loss for words because it’s so fucking beautiful that i can’t even comprehend you wrote this for me, my own little fic????

the angst and comfort that tie in together is so heavenly and deadass so special to me, then there’s the self doubt, the words of other people, trying to warp your mind and hoping it changes their opinion of the one they love, but beneath and in between is the comfort, ugh my heart right now. hope you don’t mind me just yapping about how perfect this is <3

hazel when i see you .... girl it will be over for you. stand down dog, get away from my girl excuse you???? how dare you speak to reader like that?? TO ME LIKE THAT??? GIRL DIE.

there’s something so comforting about the way you write angst, and i know angst is sad and heartbreaking, but you write it in a way that also comforts me? i hope that makes sense, because it makes sense to me <3 you’re literally my own shakespeare, my vifilmsspeare if you will :tehe: write me in my next life, deal?

as i said, i love everything about this fic, and i mean everything but the fact abby pushes herself closer to reader even though she knows reader has so much self doubt, especially with the way they left things, or how things ended between them, she still wants them, that she’s willing to push everything aside to save the person she loves, to save them from making the same decision that destroyed them both before, hurts yet fucking heals the shit outta me.

can we also talk about ellie and her supporting abby through anything, including her want and need to be with reader again? because as much as they hurt, they’ve hurt each other, they still need each other, like a life line and im just sobbing into my keyboard, chat. none of you understand, none of you understand just how much i adore rays work, her fics, her little worlds she creates for all of you and i genuinely could sit here for hours to tell you just how amazing and perfect this is, all her work is.

and i can’t even begin to express how much i love this. i don’t think there will ever be enough words in the english language to describe how much this fic means to me, it means more to me than i think i could ever express. i hope you know how much i love and treasure you. not just for your work but you as a person too. you’re amazing, and i truly wish you would see that. you are the best thing and i want you yo know how much i love you.

this fic is a beautiful and special gift, but having you in my life is an even greater gift, and i thank you. i thank you for a lot of things, and im sure you know most of them already without me having to explain them. thank you for this, thank you for writing an entire fic for me, with so much meaning and not even knowing how special it is to me. thank you for everything you’ve done to help me, thank you for being there for me, thank you for everything and i mean that. from the bottom of my heart, thank you and i love you so much. 🩷🤍

THE SUNSHINE ON MY SHOULDERS STICKING LIKE HONEY

feat. contractor!abby x exgf!reader

content warning. eighteen+, smut, angst, some fluff sprinkled in, devastating dykes, nickname for reader (cherry), jealousy, long lost love trope, hazel (spoiler alert, she’s a cunt), just an emotional ass fic.

THE SUNSHINE ON MY SHOULDERS STICKING LIKE HONEY, she was the healing in a world that struck so much pain, a life you would like to forget, but can you truly forget just how much you loved her?

rayray sesh. been working on this baby for over a month and i’m very happy to post it on time! happy birthday, pookie — @sinstear ♡ this is my special crafted gift i wrote just for you on a day to celebrate just how amazing you are. erenboo, you deserve all the love in the world. i hope you enjoy this as much as i took joy in writing it for you. my love, sweat, tears, and cum are laced in it. special delivery. i love you so much, bub. always and forever.

✶ special shoutout to @hypnagogics aka my co-yap captain. thank you for proofreading my bigger projects. you are a godsend. my nonsensical typos would surely make it if it wasn’t for you. mwahmwah! you’re the sweetest, ily ♡

✶ header heavily inspired by the lovely @hcneymooners

word count, 14k.

❝ ⋮ ⌗ ┆𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝 ❞

The more you try to hide from it, the harder it’ll be when you face it — at least those are the words Abby had heard from her old man for as long as she could remember. Suddenly, nearly thirty-years later, they reverberated in her mind like a ring of a bell. A vibrating reminder of how her life remained the same, your love having limitations, requirements she never could have been aware of at the ripe age of eighteen.

All she needed was more time, more understanding, and a patient heart that was never reciprocated. On a day like today, she’s reminded of

In Jacksonville, there wasn’t much going on, and talk travels faster than the speed of lightning. Murmurs of your return started the moment Dina found out, then it spread like wildfire. All of it feels just like yesterday but the spring of her youth is a far cry away, just dust and bones to be found on the ashes of adolescence.

If the world was perfect, Abby could avoid all of this.

Maybe if her life had turned out the way she envisioned.

But it didn’t and neither did yours. Not as of late. Although Abby had to be tightlipped about it, business and pleasure entangled, all of that nonsense floating around her pretty head. A voice she once thought she had forgotten comes back with a violent need to be recognized, a calming notion before it punches her in the gut.

Not to mention, she just had to be on your father’s payroll, had to face the person she was never good enough for. All of it feels nauseating. Excruciating.

Reminder of a wound she’s never recovered from. Memories high and low come flooding, and with you in her line of vision, it only gets worse.

Way fucking worse.

“What is she doing back?”

“As if anyone would want her here.”

“Abby, was she even supposed to be here?”

The questions pile along with the bile collecting in the back of Abby’s throat. The pit in her stomach manifests a black hole, feeling herself succumb to the spin of everyone’s empty threats spilling from her friends to you. Abby can tell just by the way you’re downing the glass of champagne and picking up the next, coming here wasn’t your choice.

If you could have helped it, you would have never come back in such a public setting.

“Abby, are you listening?” She sighs, but still unable to take her eyes off you.

“Do I need to rea—”

“Yeah yeah, all of you hate them. I get it.”

“It’s not that simple. They aren’t good for you.”

There’d been murmurs through the small town of your return. That’s what happens when your mom gets sick, you come home and that you did. The anniversary of your parents, forty years strong, is the first public appearance. The absence of your brother’s appearance isn’t talked about, it’s brushed over, just like everything else, just like you.

“Yep, I got it.”

“I’m just looking out for you. They don’t appreciate you and—” Abby shoots her a knowing glare, annoyed with the intrusion of everyone thinking they knew best instead of herself.

“Yeah, like I said, I hear you, but you don’t fucking know her. Neither do I, certainly not anymore.”

Running a hand through her blonde-glistening locks, the sunset saturates her golden as she ignores Hazel, taking a sip of her beer as she takes you in. Everyone always has shit to say about you. Your parents, her friends, Abby’s parents, but no one really knows you.

It’s not easy for you to let people in, you seem as harsh as can be to others, but Abby knows you’re quite the opposite.

Different from everyone in the room, a polished cream suit and open collared button up shirt with your delectable collarbones exposed, your rings twinkle as you pet the husky, one you don't know belongs to Abby. If you did, your hand might feel repelled.

It’s what you always wanted. A life out of here, out of the small town where you’ve always felt judged, persecuted, even ostracized when you came out — and you succeeded — leaving Abby behind in the process. Even if you didn’t intend to, it sort of just…happens. We leave the ones we love behind, even if it’s our last possible intention.

Goodbye notions simmer and we forget about the love we once had.

“Hazel, Dina was asking for you, she mentioned needing some help finding JJ’s pacifier?”

“On it!” Abby chuckles as the cherry-haired girl flees into the other direction as Ellie laughs harder when she’s gone.

“You’re welcome. She's like a dog with a bone when it comes to your beautiful ex-girlfriend.”

“Watch it. Calling another woman beautiful, Dina might just skin you alive.”

“Nope. She loves me too much.”

Ellie chuckles as they watch you down another glass of champagne. Freeing your hair from the tight bun, your hair springs to life as it falls around your shoulders, framing your jawline as piercing eyes find the weeds poking through the freshly cut grass.

A few people had offered up a sloppy introduction, a grievance of pity, before returning to their groups. Anxiously, you tear at the loose thread on the cuff of your sleeve. It gets longer and longer, avoiding everyone watching you.

Pretending you don’t exist. You never do. Not in this wretched town where all dreams get sucked into a bottomless pit, where believers go to die.

Abby nods, the feeling builds in the pit of her stomach as she yearns to get closer to you. Even after all the hurtful insults thrown her way years back, she’s conflicted. A missile is thrown into her life with your arrival and all of her friends, besides Ellie, tell her not to fall back into old patterns. Not to fall for your charm, not to be a victim to reckless love.

The kind that left her empty for years. Abby knew the moment she fell, from the very first time they met, if you ever left her she’d never be the same again. You don't forget a love like this. It tears a hole within you before you even get a chance to think about it, their presence consuming your entirety, an empty promise of endless salvation dies on the tip of your tongue.

Impossible shoes to ever be filled.

Truly, Abby thought she had been in love before you, but she wasn’t. The feeling she’s been chasing for the rest of her life returns when she looks at you. Those bright eyes when you play with the pup, the gentle hand as your scrap his chin with the crescent of your blunt nails.

She feels more looking at you for one moment than anyone she’s dated after you.

It’s sickening.

Still, her friends ridicule her any chance they get. Telling her of what you’re like, how you hurt her, what you’ll do when your claws sink into Abby. It falls on a hyper fixated heart. She can’t think of anything when all the blood comes rushing to her head, how beautiful you look when she sees you anxiously biting your bottom lip, something you do when you’re attempting to stop the tears from spilling.

None of them knew what it meant to look in your eyes and wonder how someone so good couldn’t recognize the purity in your eyes, the love you give out when the world feels like it’s crumbling around you. They didn’t see the years of torture, the family that wasn’t so perfect, the anger you held wound so tight. You didn’t have anywhere to put it. Never could. Not when the image of the perfect daughter is meant to be upheld.

Not a soul knows the information Abby does. There’s nothing more you love than to hide in the shadows, hoping to be forgotten, how you nearly crave to be eaten alive if it means an end to your misery. It isn’t lost on her how much she wants to shield you from it all.

“Why don’t you go and talk to her?”

Ellie points the glass of wine she’s been nursing to you, watching as you excuse yourself into the empty guest house. Your body is still viewable through the tall glass windows, your body disappearing from the common area of the small home. The exact one she’s been renovating per your mother’s request.

“She’ll just—” Absentmindedly, Abby kicks the dirt with the toe of her boot, rooting her heel in the ground as she bites the wall of her gums, trying to center herself. Attempting to not let her mind wander into what if’s, what could have been.

“What? Figure out you’re scared?”

“I’m not scared.” Sighing into the palm of her hands as she can’t help but bite into Ellie’s comment, “It’s been years. For all I know, Cherry hates my guts. Not that it fucking matters, but I’m the last person they want to talk to. Plus, when she’s upset the last thing they want is to talk.”

“You’ll do just fine, can’t be too bad. They were always sweet on you.”

“It’s been years, Hazel’s right, in some sense I—”

“Please, even you know the only thing she wants is to get in your pants. That part is lost on me, you’re too beefy for my taste.”

“Some people like that, dick.”

“Your girlfriend sure did.”

“Ex-girlfriend.”

The rest of the night Abby avoids all of her friends, especially the meddling junkie, Hazel; fucking hazel. She wouldn’t let her rest. They never had done more than share a friendly hug and for some reason she always looked at Abby like she hung all the stars spreading across the galaxy.

“Are you going to let Hazel think she has a chance forever?”

Abby just shakes her head in omission.

“There’s no chance, I’m not—”

“Abby! I got you a glass of lemonade. Sweet with just a few cubes of ice, just the way you like it!” Ellie wiggles her eyebrows at Abby as if she has proved her point.

As soon as Hazel turns around, Ellie goes right back to the pitch of her ex-girlfriend, trying to sell Abby on the past. The only woman Dina and her had liked in her mess of a dating scene. A long line of hookups, one serious relationship that ended so horrifically the cops had to be called, and then there was Hazel. A naive girl who had been harboring a crush for nearly a year, the time Dina had adopted her into their little makeshift family.

You walk out of the guest house more comfortably. A pair of dark denim and a black graphic tee with the sleeves cut off. Abby smiles at how much you look like the woman she fell in love with, the youthful ache she still feels with every beat of her heart. The one you crushed in the palm of her hands without thinking twice.

Abby’s throat constricts when you catch her staring, quickly looking away, biting at your fingernails before your father introduces you to the new neighbors.

“What’s so important, Hazel?” Ellie bites.

Hazel ignores her. All she can see is Abby looking right at you.

Abby had realized she completely zoned out, her energy and focus harbored on you. Five minutes within your arrival and her head was already feeling the rapid hum of her heartbeat caught in the bottom of her throat as you looked at her again, just for a second longer before you turned the other direction, away from her gaze.

“Abby—”

Abby hums absentmindedly with you on her mind, infecting her thoughts like a former addict getting their first fix for years. The high. It feels even better than her mind could remember. The curious gaze in bright eyes feels intoxicating, too good to be true, and the fall feels higher than it ever was to begin with.

“Yeah?”

“She’s coming over here.”

It only takes a few minutes before Abby takes a swig at her beer, wipes the sweat collecting on the palm of her hands. When you get closer, she notices the engraving of A.A. engraved on a glimmering silver ring.

Did you keep it after all this time?

“Tell her to leave—”

“Hazel, for the love of god, would you shut your mouth?” Ellie barks as you make your way over to Abby.

Abby tries to make her resolve hard, icy even, but it’s not. Her electrified blue eyes are warm, full of curiosity and wonder, her freckled cheeks are flushed from the heat of the sun and her barely there grin has you offering one of your own.

“Abigail, hey.”

Abby is surprised you hug her and she doesn't want to accept but it feels too rude not to. But the second her arms envelop around your body you fit perfectly into her. Just like all those years ago, you’re everything she loves. Like no time has passed, as if you didn’t rip her heart and stump out the love it once held.

“It’s just Abby now.” Hazel interjects.

“Sorry, I didn’t know, Abby, right.”

“How could you? You’d have to be around—”

Ellie gently elbows Hazel in the stomach, trying to silence her best efforts to scare you away from the treasury stock of a blonde she believes to be hers.

“Abby, sorry. I’m just—”

“You’ve always called me, Abigail. It’s alright. Promise.”

There she is.

The charm that makes you fall when you don’t need to. It’s laughable that Abigail can make years of therapy, years of dating other people to get over her seem like a dream, as if it’d only just been the two of you all of this time. Like nothing had changed.

But everything has.

“Um, do you mind if we talk in private?”

Abigail follows your lead into the empty house, the party rages outside as the two of you sit in the living room, neither of you knowing what way to take your best foot forward.

“Sorry if I made things awkward with you and your girlfriend—”

“Oh, uh, she’s not….we’re not dating or anything.”

Shit.

You wish she was.

Abby doesn’t know what to think when the expression on your face wasn’t instant relief but instead turmoil within yourself. Your eyebrows furrowed as if you expected her to be in a relationship. It would leave you to escape from the overflow of feelings you had rushing through your core.

“You look shocked.”

“I just—” You bite your lip, looking anywhere but her, trying to put your best foot forward, like your father says, he’s the whole reason this conversation is even happening. “I can’t lie, it would have made this…easier? I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”

“What are you trying to do?” Abby has a bubbly laugh threatening to burst but she swallows it for the sake of your dignity.

“Okay, well that’s not nice.”

“Do you want me to be?”

“Well, my dad he just thought that—”

“Wait, you’re talking to me because of your dad?” Abby stands up from the couch, rubbing her hands over her flushed face. “Not even because it’s been years, but because — well, why?”

“He was just encouraging me. I’m nervous, isn’t that fucking obvious? I can’t even look at you without feeling like I’m eighteen again.”

She’s standing at her tall height, looking down at you as you begin to cry.

Well shit.

“Hey, hey—” Abby sinks to the floor on her knees, her body between your legs. “C’mon, there’s no need for all of that.”

“I hate that you haven’t changed.”

“Did you want me to?”

No, you say just to yourself. Not trusting the waver of your voice to give her the truth. There’s always so much on the line with her. Everything feels heavy, final, an anchor to hold you down but also drag everything you are, tangled with her sweet, honey-filled baby blues.

“Can’t you be mean to me or something? Even the playing field a little bit.”

“Not even a little, sweetheart. We both know I never could.” Her fingertips trace your forearm, a shiver courses throughout your body, “I will admit, everyone says I should.”

“They’re right. I deserve it.”

“If we all got what we deserved, well, that would be such an ugly world, wouldn’t it? Just because you did something hurtful doesn’t make you cruel. It makes you human.”

“But I do deserve the cruelty.”

“Fine, I hate you.” Abby says with a smirk on her face, wiping away a stray tear, looking too fondly on the woman who broke her heart. She’s too kind for her own good.

The giggle Abby omits rivals sunshine.

“I just didn’t want it to affect the work on the house, everything between us, it’s complicated and I’ll be in the guest house while my mom’s—”

“I know, you don’t have to say it. Your dad may have mentioned it to me. I’m sorry, I truly am.”

“I am too. For everything. I shouldn’t have left the way I did. I was so young, scared, and I wanted you to hate me. It just seemed easier than having you actually miss me.”

“I did miss you.” Abby's warm palm might as well be burning your denim jeans through as she touches your thigh. “You could have done the worst thing imaginable and I still would have. I’ve never had, uh, reason with you I guess. Love doesn’t know scorn, like a child with a knife, even if you can get hurt — sometimes it’s worth it.”

The stars in her blue eyes hold the same light in them, too full of love, her older and refined spirit lays beneath them and she has become someone you have even more love for. It’s too damning. Abigail Anderson has always been more than you can handle, always outshining everyone in this small town even if she couldn’t see it for herself.

“I’m surprised you came back for them, you know, after everything.”

It’s not just them.

“They say she doesn’t have a lot of time, so—” You sigh heavily into your palms, “And that’s not your problem, but thank you for being so cool about everything. Maybe we can be friends?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Abby knows neither of you can’t. It’s never worked out that way. It’s all or nothing and she’s always been the all-in type of girl. She loves big, not caring if her own heart gets trampled in the process.

Her love blinds like the sun, but it settles over your heart like the moonlight kissing the waves — you just hope the tide is strong enough to bring you home.

❝ ⋮ ⌗ ┆𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 ❞

The first few weeks back at home felt like a breath of fresh air. As much as you disdained being home, the cracks of your family nearly breaking you in the process, you had her.

Even if you didn’t really have her.

The definite silence was not so, Abby still soaked in her warm heart, the one you hoped she kept. The best part of her. She’s too kind, even when you don’t deserve it, she still freely gives it.

It bleeds into her work.

Clearly, your father was more than fond of her. Several occasions they would be chumming it up, your father even grilling a few patty hamburgers up for them both when the clock struck noon. They always did love her, possibly even more than you, but to say they were devastated about the break would be a tragic understatement.

Get her back.

She’s a prize in this town.

Abigail Anderson is the best you can do, you’re not doing better than Dr. Anderson’s daughter.

But you never did try. You trusted the universe as a sign given. The people driving you out of this town sided with the woman you had broken up with, so you left and didn’t look back twice.

Yet, she did, in more ways than you were even aware of.

Because of her stupidly built physique, you couldn’t stop looking.

Anchored into the heat, her muscles constrict as she helps the crew demo the tile of the master suite, the last touch of the renovation needs. Besides the final paint job in the guest house, Abby had finished it all. In all honesty, Abby was hoping all of it would be complete by the time you arrived back in town. Being around you on a daily basis, her friends telling her it’s only a matter of time before she’s back in your arms, it feels like a slap in the face.

As if she has no self restraint.

To be fair, she doesn’t.

Abby’s gone to lunch with you three times, had coffee with you once, and she exhibits her obsessive memory — still having your order memorized — even if it's the most pathetic thing you’ve ever heard of. She still finds herself stuck between your teeth like cotton candy.

It’s all friendly, supposedly, but it’s the easiest thing to slip back.

Old habits do die hard.

Right now, you’re just watching her work.

You’ve been doing it a lot lately.

Out of habit, nervousness, maybe it’s the anxiety flooding through your bloodstream. All of this feels erasable. Too much thrown at you, with her, it always happens to be too irreplaceable.

The ghost you’ve been running from, the one that hides in the shadow, even if you’ve tried to stay on the path you’ve created. Dug from the ashes of all your failures, she’s the one thing you haven’t made right. The nights where you got too drunk, nearly texting her or calling her, the picture you still curated in a specific folder, the one you would look for when you’re the weakest.

Being back in your hometown, the first person who ever truly loved you, it feels suffocating.

It doesn’t help that she looks so good. Or that she’s even kinder. The love in her eyes is even more whole-hearted than they were ten years ago. Part of you tells yourself you couldn’t even help yourself if you tried. This is just how it’s supposed to be. The heartbreaker pining for the woman’s heart you shattered into pieces.

All it took, a few cups of coffee and Abby taking you to lunch and paying — it feels awfully like a date but you keep your mouth shut. Her being present in your life is already confusing enough; the added weight would just be unbearable.

But after today, you won’t see her again. Painting the final room in the guest house is the last duty she has to fulfill and the renovation is done on your parent’s property. The ache in the pit of your stomach is unsettling as you attempt to simmer through and wonder why the pain becomes so deep. As if the woman in front of you was scorning you alive.

“You need something or are you gonna stare at me all day?”

You watch Abby throw the paint roller back in the tray, running the brush in the sage green, before turning the attention back to the wall, waiting for you to respond.

“No, I wasn’t staring.” Abby chuckles at that.

Chuckles.

“Yeah, sure.”

If you could see her pouty lips, you’re sure that they’d be pulled into a smirk. Lately, she’s been enjoying this too much. Catching you staring at her for too long, biting the precious bottom lip of yours as she’s putting her muscles to work or when you caught her peeling the sweaty tank of her body for a new one, every inch of her skin glowing in the wake of the blistering sun.

Her abdomen, toned with a not so subtle four pack, her v-line defined as it disappears into her jeans. It’s sickening. Really. It is. She catches your self control slipping through the cracks, dignity along with it as you give in to her adonis-like physique.

The shock going through your body, going completely still as Abby just chuckles, winking at you before she goes about her day. Like it was nothing, like this is a normal occurrence for her. You’re not sure what thought made you feel even more sick.

Women fawning over her or what happened after.

But you didn’t have a right, you know you didn’t.

You swallowed the unflattering buzz of sweeping jealousy until you couldn’t feel in anymore. It’s not an emotion you even deserve to feel. While the two of you had been getting closer the longer you spent with each other, you knew your boundaries well enough to know you still weren’t there, you never would be.

The ghosts from your past made damn sure of it.

“I can pose for you if you’re going to keep looking.”

“I wasn’t—”

Abby wipes the mixture of sweat, oils, and paint on the pair of old blue-denim. She lets her blonde hair out of the bun she wore, despite the icy temperature, her body runs warm.

“It’s okay to admit it.”

“Admit what?” Suddenly you become defensive, arms crossing over your chest.

“That you’re still attracted to me.” Abby takes your curves in and nearly blows a low whistle, “You’re awful at hiding it.”

“I-I’m not, this isn’t….you’re not, like, easy to look at, you know? Uh, ummm….”

Standing there like an idiot as you struggle to get the words out, nearly impossible to get them released, your mouth staggering, unable to even keep them shut as Abby stalks you, your body pressed against the kitchen counter, the new one she installed days ago.

Nothing comes out on the way you intend it to. Fuck. Did you offend her?

“I’m not?”

She whispers into your ear, her lips ghosting your skin. A free hand plays with the buckle of your belt before she pulls you closer by the fastened leather. It’s soft to the touch, making her want to sink her teeth into you, until her canines break the surface of your skin, claiming you as hers once again.

Abby thinks about removing it off you, bending you over the counter and punishing you for it or even fastening the belt around your neck, pulling you along until you’re right where she pleases. The craving in the pit of her belly only stirs into an unmanageable peace the longer you stand there — squirming with satisfaction — waiting to be put out of your misery.

Golden locks tickle your jaw, the static energy radiating off of her shocks your skin, goosebumps come alive on every inch of you as she makes her presence known. One fact you haven’t been able to shake, Abby Anderson is a force to be reckoned with. Ten years, ten full years, and your life means nothing now that she’s right in front of you.

“Abigail, I don’t really think this is a good idea.” Abby waits for you to push her away, but instead you place your hands around her forearms but she’s so big, and it’s intoxicating that she stands taller than you. Her biceps the size of your head, veins protruding as she flexes, as if it didn’t make matters worse.

“Then why don’t you just admit it?” Abby presses her pelvis even closer to yours and you wonder if you’re hallucinating the barely-there kiss to below your ear. “You want me just as much as you did back then. Ten years apart won’t change that. You still care about me, even though you wish you didn’t, you do.”

“Abigail, we can’t go there, we both are—”

“What? I’ve always been a patient girl. I can wait.” Loudly, you groan as she peppers kisses down your neck, before scratching at her skin, when she kisses the one spot behind your ear she certainly didn’t forget about.

Abby digs her teeth in as you hiss, she enjoys the thrill of your soft whimpers, she’s barely started and you’re giving her just what she needs. The two of you know it, there isn’t a fix for this, the thread of a craving pulls until it’s fed.

“Oh–”

Rough hands hoist you on the counter top as she slots herself between your thighs, her frame protecting you as if you were a wild animal trying to be saved from extinction. The greed in Abby’s palm finds salvation when she touches exposed skin, silk to the touch — it doesn’t feel quite as sinful as she’s been told.

She should hate you, right?

You hurt her, didn’t look back twice, and you’ve never been the same.

All of this is just a facade. The life you have, the future you always dreamed of building is thousands of miles from here and she just doesn’t fit within it anymore, everyone tells her she never did. A missing puzzle piece with a jagged edge, the more Abby tries to fit with your world, the further she pushes away.

But she held onto the hope that your world no longer fit you and maybe — like a fool who believes in their first dream — she could be your world again.

Sparkling, honey-blues dazzle their way into your heart once again, reminding you of everything you love, striking a reminder through your soul of just what you had hurt. The life you stole, the one you wanted to so desperately have but fear still swarms you. The memory doesn’t feel so distant, the past isn’t the past but lies as a reminder of the blood still staining your hands.

With hesitance, you hold her full-freckled cheeks in your palms with a delicate hand, fearful any touch from you would burn her in the process.

“Do you think this is a good idea?” You bite into the isolating air, threatening to swarm your soul but she finds you first. Abby’s warm breath feeds into the need blossoming like a seed rooted in soil, solidifying the growth of budding salvation.

“I don’t know. Do you?”

She’s so sweet on you, even as the trickle of poison burns her, Abby would gladly let it absorb every inch of her skin if it meant this. The wondrous arrival of a love once lost, her heart torn right down the middle. Unsure if giving into reason or a festered dream.

It all grabs a hold of her the same, unwillingly to release her from the pure agony she feels when you’re not around. More dramatic than she intended it to be, the dagger once pushed through her heart, exerting every drop of blood until she felt unsatisfied iron saturating her tongue.

She would even show gratitude if you let her.

“Everything I think I know changes when you’re involved, so no, I don’t.”

Leaning into your touch, Abby swears into the palm of your hand, her hands smooth over the fabric of your pants and your entire skin leaves a trail of fire anywhere her large, calloused hand scorns you. The weight of her love feels heavy, as it always has, but the temptation to carry every ounce of it is heavier than it’s been in years.

With a terror in your chest, you blurt out the first thought entering you mind. “You’ve aged really well, can barely tell you’re hitting thirty.”

“Oh yeah? I can think of a few ways to show you.”

Shit.

A rapid heartbeat ready to burst, you’re not sure if it’s you or her. She’s inching closer, lips ghosting yours, her minty-ice breath makes home over yours. With a slight graze, you inhale a sharp breath, read for her to lean into you.

Slam!

“Am I interrupting something?” Immediately, you push Abby off of you, a judging pair of eyes scanning the two of you.

The woman from the party looked like she could actually kill you with her bare hands. Then there’s Ellie sitting there grinning like the joker, one giggle away from sounding like the maniac himself. As if she was fully aware this would happen. The two of you are running off of pure animal instinct, unable to keep your hands off one another.

“Abby? What’s going on?” The snip in the woman’s voice is evident, so is the possession she so clearly feels over your ex-girlfriend. The jealousy you feel over the thought sends an unwanted shiver up your spine.

Then she’s looking at you, expecting you to disintegrate into nothing right in front of her. Like you had done something terribly wrong.

Didn’t Abby say she’s single?

“Chill out, Hazel.” Ellie rolls her eyes, smirking at the steam practically boiling out of Hazel’s ears. “Ready for that drink? Dina and Jesse are already waiting.”

“Uh—” She looks back at you, avoiding eye contact with everyone. “Yeah, can you just give me a sec?”

“But I really think we should—”

“Down Hazel, god, you’re worse than a dog. They clearly were about to suck each other’s faces off. Move it.”

Hazel clearly looks offended as she desperately looks at Abby, hoping for her to save a little bit of dignity but Abby just punches the bridge of her nose as Ellie escorts out an extremely frigid Hazel.

Abby doesn’t miss the way the woman who has far too big of a crush on her tries to shoot daggers into you but you’re too busy focused on plucking your overgrown cuticles.

As soon as the door shuts you bend over the counter, forehead pressed into the white marble of the island, settling for a frustrated groan even when you want to scream.

“That bad, huh?” Abby stands behind you, watching as you lose it in front of her.

“Your friends already hate me, was that really fucking needed?”

There’s an itching, envious need to ask why Hazel seems to be protective over Abby, borderlining on obsession, but you keep your mouth tight lipped. Even if it’s the first thing ready to roll off your tongue.

“They’re fine, Hazel is just—”

“Protective.” You avoid her as she smirks, clearly enjoying the clear look of jealousy in your beautifully bright eyes.

“Oh?” Abby is grinning, pearly whites shining as majestic as the moon. “I didn’t think you’d even feel like that about me.”

As if it's instinct, she can’t stop how much she’s loving this. One moment of her lips on your skin and suddenly you want her all to yourself. Your head is spinning and her stupid, blue eyes won’t stop looking at you like a divine treasure.

“I-I don’t know what to say.”

You never did well with things out of your control, never really could. It’s why all of it ended the way it did. If you couldn’t somehow manipulate into what you wanted, it faded until you couldn’t hear it any longer. Abby faded into the noise, into your past, but maybe she is the noise and for the first time in ten years you can finally hear.

“You don’t have to say anything but you can come with me.”

“With your friends?” Abby nods.

“All of your friends hate me and one looks like she might actually kill me. Why on earth would you think that’s a good idea?”

“All of them are adults. They’ll handle just fine besides, I want you there.” As soon as Abby says those words, your harsh seamer softens, rejection melts and dissipates from your vocabulary. She’s always been a difficult person to say no to. “You could use some social interaction, you don’t even leave this guest house.”

“How did you know that?”

“I have eyes?” Abby states it as more of a question, a giggle threatening to bubble out.

“Oh god.” Abby laughs as she takes off her tool belt before finding her jacket and slipping it on her body. Grabbing her keys on the counter, looping the carabiner on the loop of her weathered denim.

“Ready?”

There’s a look of uncertainty in your eyes, nearly bleeding into an unwillingness to bend, but her words reassure you before you even get a chance to explain. As if she settled in your heart ten years ago and never left.

“Don’t worry, okay? If anyone’s mean to you, I’ll set them straight, Cherry.”

The nickname falls off her tongue, the sentiment hits you like a tsunami of emotion, bringing you back to every loving emotion she exposed to you for the first time.

It shouldn’t cut you this deep but it will — she always will.

❝ ⋮ ⌗ ┆𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞 ❞

March 26th, 2013

“C’mon dance with me!” Abby screams over the loud music of the party. Fluorescent lights, a disco ball and tequila raged through her body, the alcohol pumping through her veins as she finally mustered the liquid courage to talk with the girl she’s been crushing on all sophomore year.

Her friends had been teasing her all night about it, but when the girl looked at her in disgust, shoulder checking her into oblivion, she couldn't help but take it to heart. Her blue eyes swell with tears, a waterfall raging within her as she makes her way to the bathroom, puking out her dinner at her father’s house.

So much for prom night, right?

Making a beeline for the bathroom, with yet another rejection to check off the list, stupid fucking after party she lied to her dad about going to. It’s all so stupid, of course Lacey wouldn’t be into someone like her. No one likes her, no one ever will, she’s just the lame screw up in this town who can’t like boys, not when the rest of the girls in the wretched town do.

Even if her dad tells her, it’s what makes her special — it’s a bunch of horse shit.

So, in the home of the girl she confessed her undying love for, she pukes her guts out in the bathroom until there’s a knock at the door and a soft yet concerned shout that follows. “Hey, are you okay? Sounds a little rough in there!”

“Shit, yeah, just one second…” Abby collects herself taking off her jacket as she rolls up the sleeves, residue of what she chucked up on the cuff of her shirt. Quickly, she rinses off and roles the sleeves up.

Well, it didn’t get any more embarrassing than this.

“Are you sure you’re alright? I can get someone it’s really not a pro—”

Without a further beat, the door is swung open. Abby suspects to see someone she knows, but she doesn’t. It’s a fresh face and she’s never been more grateful. The eyeliner she thought Lacey would like was probably smudged all over her face, Abby had no doubt she probably resembled someone operating an oil rig of some kind.

Just as Abby tries to talk, she feels another round come up and she runs to the toilet, sinking to her knees as more bile comes out. Way to go Anderson, you’ve managed to utterly humiliate yourself in front of two beautiful women tonight. Truly, there should be some type of an award for being the dumbest idiot on the planet.

Somehow, she knows all of this will come back to bite her in the ass. There’s no way that she isn't the complete laughing stock of the high school until she walks across the stage in two years with a diploma on hand. Whoever you are, you’re sure you’ll tell the entire town.

A stupid pathetic lesbian who can’t have one good night to save her life.

One of the most important nights of her life.

But she doesn’t hear a mockery laugh, a snide comment…she isn't even met with pure disgust. The third and fatal option. There’s a comforting hand on her back, reassuring her everything will be just fine, the other holding her hair into a makeshift ponytail, ensuring there isn't a single strand getting tied into the mess of her sickness.

By the time Abby’s done, she feels even more humiliated, her body running hot, cheeks aflame but you’re already running warm water underneath the towel folded on the shelf above the toilet. Kneeling down again, you angle her by the jaw, wiping the residue off her lips and you carefully wash away the black eyeliner smeared all over her freckled-cheeks.

For a second, Abby notices you staring at her pouty lips but she doesn’t say a word about it.

Turned out so wonderful the first time…

“Here!” You pull from your pocket, a pack of red labeled gun, cherry flavored, and pull out one piece wrapped in paper-tin foil. “For your, you know, breath.”

“Is this your nice way of telling me I have bad breath?” Abby teases, one moment with a pretty stranger, and she already felt more like herself. Abby takes a piece of gum, unraveling the piece before shoving the strip into her mouth.

“Well, you did puke.”

Regretfully she chews as the taste turns sweet instead of mint, her face contorts in rejection but still she chews. It’s not exactly what she had in mind.

“You don’t like Cherry flavored? That’s just bad taste!” You grab a piece of gum for yourself, throwing the piece of paper in the trash, consuming it wholeheartedly, almost moaning as you put on a show.

“Whatever you say, Cherry.” The sun might as well be shining on you from just how warm you feel. Heat rising in your heart, blossoming through your chest, thriving from the attention of the sun,

“Hey! That’s not fair. I don’t know your name.”

“Well, I don’t know yours either…” Abby hints, tilting her head to the side with a smirk the size of Texas. For once, she finds this easy, talking to a pretty girl, flirting with a pretty girl — proving it didn’t always have to be so hard to have something this good.

“Call me Cherry, it’s better than my real one, trust me.” You smile sweetly, fully willing to rot each tooth if it means you could feel like this. “What’s yours?”

“Abigail.”

The two of you just stare at each other like idiots, two losers, two outcasts and all of it started to make sense. Every heartache dealt out by careless handlers of the heart, each person who made you feel small, unworthy, who knew all of it could be healed by looking into the brightest pair of blue eyes, the warmest, full of honey and marvelous wonder.

It feels wonderful, being this close to a feeling, a lover's dream in the sunshine of spring, kissing shoulders never exposed to the brightful joy, freckles sprouting like bees flees to honey. One more kiss of sunshine until the sweetness falls on your tongue, guiding you to the spirit of love and everything you ever lost.

One person, one perfect person who makes your youth scream of joy again. Jumping off a cliff, plummeting into the cool ocean without second thought, hoping they’ll be there to jump off it with you. Even if it takes a lifetime of waiting — you’d wait your entire life for her.

As long as she’s in the sun, freckles being painted by pure light, you’d soak in the sun right along with her.

“Thank you.” She squeaks out the words so small, you nearly miss it.

“There’s no need for thanking. Just doing the right thing s’all.” Your smile is so sweet, Abby nearly feels every part of her body rotting with sugar. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“There was just this girl and I really thought she liked me but she really didn’t and I have this thing where I get a lot of anxiety or nervous I kind of just puke. It’s totally lame, god, I can’t wait to get out of this place.”

“Me too. High school sucks.” You agree with her, offering a small smile as you finish cleaning her up. “But she’s totally lame for not seeing how great you are.”

Abby tries not to blush, but she can’t hit the crimson swell painting the apples of her cheeks and the tips of her ears. “Did you try to kiss her or something?”

“I didn’t really get that far, she wouldn’t even dance with me. Not here, not prom, guess I’m not cool enough for her.” Pushing the metal frame of her glasses up her nose, trying to stop herself from biting into her blunt nails, nearly drawing blood. Now that she’s come down from her puking fest, she sees how beautiful you are. The kind of beauty that would bring her to her knees if Abby wasn’t already there.

“Cool is overrated. Who cares about being cool? We’re all losers trying to figure it out.” You say it as if it’s the most obvious statement in the world, as if you’re confident in exactly who you want to be. Abby is envious of it. She wonders what it’s like to be so free — to not wonder what everyone is constantly thinking about you — if you’re good enough.

You don’t seem to care.

“If you still wanna dance, I’d dance with you. We can be losers together.” You offer up to her as you stand to your feet, offering a hand up to her and she takes it willingly. You grab the jacket to her suit, helping her slip into it and she smoothes the jacket over her frame.

“You really don’t have to—” But you look at her with the most absurd gaze of refusal, eyebrows furrowed as it makes this cute little line between them. Abby can’t help but admire it.

“Oh, we’re going to fucking dance and show whoever this bitch is just what she’s missing.”

You didn’t even know her name, she didn’t know yours, but you’d shown more kindness to her than she ever thought she deserved.

Present day.

There’s a lot to be said for how you let yourself succumb to her again, it didn’t take much, just a batting of blonde eyelashes and irresistible pouty lips and you’d fallen victim to Abigail Anderson. The hardest thing you’ve ever done was leave her. All these years later, you’re right back to where you were before all of this had started.

It seems to shock all of her friends when the two of you walk on together and even more shocking when Abby throws her arm behind you, engaging in conversation here and there. Mostly, you tune out the conversation and mindlessly sip on the beer in front of you.

Hazel isn’t happy about the predicament, cold brown eyes sport a simmering guidance of rage as she watches Abby’s fingers on your shoulder tracing random patterns into your skin. The arrival of your presence in turn makes her take jabs at you all night. Even with your silence, it doesn’t stop her, and when you have no visceral reaction she finally goes for something that brings silence around the entire table.

“Why are you even here? Breaking Abby’s heart wasn’t enough the first time? Why don’t you run back to your sick mother and stop playing with people just because it’s fun for you.” Hazel bites and you feel the swarm of your tears begin to build and she keeps going, “Isn’t that why you came back? Not because you actually care but because your mom is going to die.”

“Sorry, excuse me—” Hazel scoffs as you slither away and head towards the bathroom. As if she’s accomplished, she sips on her margarita, like what she just did was a service to everyone here.

Ellie and Dina sit there in shock, trying to process what the fuck had just happened. Jesse sits there silently, discomfort written all over his face. But Abby? She’s filled with a soaring hot rage, face flushed violet as her knuckles turn white. Hazel immediately shrinks into the booth, unprepared for what’s about to happen.

She thought Abby would be happy, kicking someone who so wrongly hurt her to the curb. You didn’t deserve her. You never would. Hazel deserves you. She’s been here, waiting for Abby to see her and love her, not you.

“What the fuck is your problem? Cherry wasn’t even doing a goddamn thing and you’ve been attacking them all damn night.” Abby’s rage is palpable, steaming to the touch, and nothing like any of them have ever seen.

“I did this for you! She treated you horribly! She broke your heart! She deserves it.”

Abby pinches the bridge of her nose, tossing her head against the wall, “This has got to fucking stop. Cherry broke up with me goddamn ten years ago and it’s none of your business.” Hazel could practically see the steam rolling off her before Abby raised her voice even more, “You didn’t have a right to bring up her mom regardless of whatever happened. Jesus, if I want to be around her or want Cherry around, everyone here is just going to have to fucking deal.”

“Abby, we’re just trying to look out for you. Cherry only ever thinks about herself.”

“Well fucking don’t. I can handle myself despite whatever you think I can deal with. Stay the fuck away from her or you’ll live to regret it.”

Throwing a twenty on the table to cover her tab, she finds you washing your face, trying to get rid of the puffiness in your eyes. When you see her, you turn her away, a lame attempt to stop her from seeing you like this.

Weak. Overbearing. A winded rush pressing on your lungs, struggling to breathe — you didn’t need any of this. Not to be back right where it all destroyed you. Then here she is, the living reminder of your transgressions, your failure, the one thing you couldn’t fix.

All roads lead to her. All of it is sick and twisted. The look of love pierces through your soul, scouring through the place you keep hidden under lock and key; the part that still loves her.

It demands attention. To be heard. To be seen. To violate you and your dreams, to place her before everything else. A violent reminder of how all of this started. Before you could catch up with the tide, everything flips, your entire life becomes a reflection of what you feared.

Abby has her life together and yours is coming apart.

Everyone hates you for what you become. For how little you cared about leaving the first twenty years of your life behind, a chapter closed and discarded as if it never existed to you in the first place.

“Let me take you home, alright? I’m sorry for Hazel she’s—”

“It’s fine.” You cut her off, drying your eyes, or trying to but you can’t stop crying in the first place. “It was stupid of me to agree to this.”

“You aren’t stupid, sorry, she was being a cunt. It won’t happen again. I won’t let it happen.”

Abby carefully wipes your tears away, “Hey, let’s get out of here. Yeah? My place is just up the street. Just the two of us.”

You nod as Abby leads you out, her palm feels welcoming in your grip, a homecoming you have been dying to feel. Her touch feels warm, perfect as her fingers interlock with your own. Like no time has passed, it’s easy for you to slip back into her grasp.

Everything about her feels right. When she helps you get in her truck, the old one her father always wanted to renovate and it seems she did just that. The ride is only a couple minutes before she’s parking in the garage of her home. She opens the door for you, a hand on your back as she leads you towards the door leading into her house.

What you expect to be a farmhouse, a hint of southern barn meets boho chic, but you’re met with something else entirely.

It’s exactly what she talked about building growing up. Everything else feels modern except the cherry red kitchen with white accents and marble countertops. There’s cherries everywhere, but it’s subtle enough to the naked eye, you wouldn’t blink twice.

The memory comes back to you in a hot flash, one you weren’t fond of.

“We can have it all. I’ll buy you a damn house, I’ll give you whatever you want, whatever you need, I want this, Cherry. More than I’ve ever wanted anything. I love you, please, can’t you see a future with both of us?”

“But I don’t want to be here. You know that! My dad can hardly look at me because I’m with a woman, my mom tries but she doesn’t understand. Is this the kind of life you want? They remind me that I’m not good enough. Who I love isn’t good enough, not if I’m not with a man. Can you understand I’m dying to get out of this nothin’ town?”

Abby gnaws at her bottom lip, teeth drawing blood as she sees you drawing within yourself. Pulling back at the first sign of hardship. Even Abby wonders if she’s worth fighting for.

“You mean dying to get away from me? I’m in this nothin’ town you despise so much.”

“Abigail, you’re taking words out of my mouth, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“You just want to leave and I don’t.” You look at her, her adorable pout in a frown, arms she’s been bulking for the past couple years begin to show definition. The freckles she hates grew more prominent on her skin as she spent the summer working for father’s construction company.

Her life is here, her future is here, but for once since the two of you met, your own two different paths and no matter how much you love her — it just won’t work.

“We’re eighteen! Our entire lives are in front of us. I can’t stay here, Abigail. I just can’t. I dream of a big city, somewhere my stories will take me places, a life that I can’t find here.”

“You got the scholarship, didn’t you?” Abby barks, her chest puffing out, jaw clenching as she pleads for you to tell her the truth. “Tell me the truth. You’ve been lying to me, hoping I’d change my mind?”

“I wasn’t lying. I just—”

“What? You were just going to leave one morning and never come back? Like I mean nothing to you?” Abby removes her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Like the past two years have just been what? A way for you to pass time until your real life comes along. Fucking great.”

“I told you from the start, I want more. I need to do more! No one gets into NYU around here and certainly not on a scholarship. I have a chance for a real future, a way out from my parents, a new life, I’ve always wanted this. You know I have.”

“And I’ve always wanted you.”

Silence engulfs the room, a pindrop could be heard, the tension could be cut with a knife but Abby sees the wall closing around you. Covering her from the heart you slowly opened up to her, what she fought tooth and nail for. She always fought for you but it’s hard to do anything when you don’t believe this is worth saving.

“You don’t even have the decency to ask me.”

“What?”

“You just want to write me off. You lump me with everyone else because you don’t even give me the chance.”

“What are you saying?”

Abby’s blue eyes turn into ice, all the warmth void as the chill sends a shiver down your spine. Her throat feels tight, like even if she swallows her own spit she’ll choke.

“Do you love me enough to make this work?” Abby flinches when you don’t immediately answer, because she knows where she stands, she would follow you across the world if it meant that’s what you wanted. To make you happy. But she can’t help but feel like she’s splitting herself apart for someone who doesn’t care in the way she does.

With tears in your eyes, they cascade down your cheek before whispering to her, “I don’t.”

“Get. Out.” She murmurs through clenched teeth, using the sleeve of her t-shirt, one you gifted her, to wipe away the tears that wouldn’t stop coming. The overflow of the heartache racked through her body like she’s never felt before.

You don’t love her. You don’t love her. You never loved her.

“Abs, please, don’t make me leave like this. Can we talk about this?”

“What’s there to fucking talk about? We don’t love me, Cherry. What else is there to fucking say?”

You nearly scream, not sure why anything you’re saying isn’t coming out the way you intended it to. “You’re not listening to me I—”

“Right. You just need to find a man, right? God, you’re just like Lacey.”

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” You bite, and if looks could kill, Abby would be dead right now. She’s struck a nerve, the memory of sophomore year comes flooding back to her, back when all of this started. “God, fuck you. How could you possible compare me to the straight girl that pulled you along because what she really wanted was Daniel Collins to fuck her so stupid she ended up pregnant junior year.”

“You’re leaving, when your back is pressed up against a wall, you’ll always leave, Cherry.”

“But I—” You stop yourself before you could speak the forbidden words, the ones you’ve said to her a million times, the one you just refuted that you did even if she can usually call you right on your bullshit. But you’ve diluted her sense of reasoning and all she hears is her girlfriend of two years just told her she doesn't love her.

“You what? What other lies are you going to tell me?”

“Fine.” Your expression turns stone cold, “Let’s both be done with it then. There’s nothing left to fight for.”

Prideful ego gets in the way of what Abby wants and she finally lets her head speak for her, “Sounds good to me.”

“Are you alright?” Abby asks but then she notices you’re just staring at her kitchen and she’s never been so self-conscious in her life. She didn’t even think about it, she’s so used to others seeing it but it’s different when your muse is taking in the craft you created with them in mind.

“Oh, right, the cherries.” She stutters out, scratching the back of her neck as she turns the lights on. It smells of vanilla and something oak, just like she smelled in high school. To others it may seem boring but it’s refreshing to know she’s still the same as she was.

“You still did it?”

“Yeah, it’s kinda lame honestly, maybe I should have done something else but nothing ever fit right with the rest of the house so.” Abby pops open a beer, somehow needing to have some type of liquor while you gawk at the work she created with you in mind. “If I’m being honest, I think it was just a way for me to hold onto you. I sure didn’t think I would ever see you again.”

“Me neither.” You answered truthfully, the loss of Abby rattled you, even though you were better at hiding it. Losing her is still the most painful loss you had to endure, which she considers fortunate, but not fortunate enough. “I always thought about what would have happened if I hadn’t been so headstrong. I think I had to convince myself in order to leave, I would have stayed here for you if not.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Even if she pretends not to be, Abby’s still bitter.

“Why?”

“You always knew what you wanted out of life and that wasn’t me.” Abby chews on her bottom lip again, picking the label of the beer before taking another swig. “Hell, you left before I even got a chance to say goodbye.”

“What?” Eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you take a step forward, “Did you come to the house?”

“Of course I did. I wasn’t going to leave things like that. Did you not—”

“No, I didn’t know, I thought that was it. I didn’t expect there to be more for my sake.”

The way she looks at you feels like she’s peering into her soul, the way she sees you so clearly, better than anyone ever has, chilling you to your core. Bits and pieces of your love located in eyes that glimmer only for her, light electrified the moment your sights are set on her.

It feels like falling in love with a broken melody.

You admire the imperfections instead of leaving at the bridge.

“I waited on your porch for hours but then your parents came home, saying they just had gotten back from dropping you off.”

In a matter of moments, your entire world feels flipped, like everything you had known for the last ten years, a terrible lie you wished to never know. A nightmare you would hope to wake up from. That’s all this was, you would wake up in her father’s home as you fought in the kitchen, you convince yourself not to let go of the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

“You came back for me?”

Closing the space between the two of you, grabbing her beer and placing it on the countertop. Abby takes an intake of breath as you invade every part of her personal space. As corny as it sounds, you do smell of cherries. So sweet, her bones feel weak with need, as if she doesn’t inhale the sugar she’ll just crumble at your feet, begging for just one drop.

“Yeah, I cried in front of your dad who hated me at the time, might I add. After that, he was kind, I think because he saw how much I…you know…”

You remember how much he changed when you came home for the holidays three years later. Naturally, you always accepted he had just come around over time, but it wasn’t that at all — the weeps of your high school girlfriend convinced him.

“Guess he saw how much I loved you or something…I don’t know…” She shrugs like it’s nothing.

Like she's nothing; the careless lie you let her believe.

Even with her dominating physical presence, she’s always been shy about this sort of thing. Expressing her feelings never really came easy, even if she wore them with her heart on her sleeve, admitting them was different than feeling them.

“You changed his mind.”

“He would have gotten there eventually. I’m sure he liked whoever you dated after me.”

“Hm.” You grimly laugh, “He didn’t. Not the two I brought home but he always spoke fondly of you, he definitely likes you better then he enjoys his own kid.”

Patient she is watching you process the information, it’s almost too much for her to swallow. What if you had been home when she was going to say goodbye? Would this be your home with her? The dreams of kissing her in the kitchen, cherry inspired, the family home she always wanted to build for the two of you. Now she’s here with no one but herself. Withering away the soul of a woman who only wanted love.

“He loves you and if he doesn’t, that’s his loss. Trust me, I know it too well.”

The confession hangs on the walls like a memorial, taking a trip down memory lane, or more like the hell of your own making. Demons you conjured cast over your past as if they only exist in hollow halls. The deeper you go, the more your heart slivers in the cracks of her delicate grip. For the first time, you don’t mind when she presses on your heartbeat — demanding more with just looking at you the way she does.

The way she always has.

“Do you still love me?”

“Are you going to run away if I tell you?”

Lips ghost over you, her breath hits your face, making it flush with heat. She leans against the counter, wrapping your back with one of her arms, tugging you close to her.

“Abby, I’m a mess.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know what my family is going to look like or my future.”

“I know.”

“Abigail, would you stop saying that?”

“I’ve only ever cared about you, I don’t care if your life is together. I’m here and I—” She dips her head to kiss down your neck, decorating your collarbones with her lips as she creates a map back to where she wants to the most, “will take care of you.”

Abby kisses you like the air in her lungs is expendable, as she has endless amounts to give. That’s all she is love, pouring into every ounce of you that she can find. With desperate abandon, she wants to wipe your memory of every wrong she ever did you — she only wants to remind you of the reason why she loves you. Maybe it’ll be enough for you to wake up in her arms again.

For once, she might be enough.

“We don’t have to do this, I don’t know what it all means and—”

“Right now? I don’t fucking care.” Abby leeches off your neck, kissing and delicately sucking, grazing her sharp teeth against sensitive skin. “I just want you.”

Thoughtless abandon goes out the window as she guides you back into her apartment, off the spacious balcony and corners you into her room. Letting you fall on her bed as she stands above you, as she strips in front of you. Making a show of it, torturing you for sport, before she goes in for the kill.

The alcohol still alive in your mind as she pulls off, a freckled maze maps its way all over her body. The subtle blonde happy trails travels underneath her navel and disappears beneath the fabric of her denim jeans. Your own self-control begins to slip, but Abby is too concerned with evening out the playing field. Even if this is a long-lasting goodbye, she’s going to make it last.

Slipping your trousers down your legs, she’s met with cotton boxers — soaked all the way through.

“Is that all for me?” Abby snaps the waistband against your skin as you squirm underneath your touch, bucking your hips into the air. Impossibly desperate for her touch.

“Y-Yes, It’s for—” Irrevocably your eyes roll back into your skull, “Abigail, oh shit, shit, shitttt.”

Sneaking a hand in your boxers, she opens up your inviting folds, slippery and as Abby glides along, collecting your slick with the calloused fingers. You squirm and shift, bucking into her hand, waiting for more to be given to you.

“Just say my name like that pretty girl, so good for me, aren’t you?” Abby removes her hand as she pulls your boxers off your legs and without being asked she slides them down your legs as she pushes your shirt up to your tits, exposing the swell of your breasts to her possessive eyes, waiting to lay claim onto what she’s missed for the past ten years.

“I wonder if you’re just as…” Abby takes a beat before rubbing over your hard nipple along her tongue, her denim-glad thigh grinding against your thigh as she suckles at your breasts. “Sensitive.”

She moans into your skin, using her free hand to play with your pussy, soft strokes to your clit as she elicits more moans from you. The force of her strength and weight keeps you down, the stutter of your hips chasing her fingers.

“My pretty baby, not so mean and bossy anymore, huh?” She bites your nipple gently before whispering in your ear, “Did you miss me that much?”

“I just want more, please.”

In any other circumstance, she happily would make you pay for it. Wait even, but if she doesn’t have you in her mouth for another second, she won’t survive. You’re so beautiful, you’re perfect in every conceivable way. The years had in fact been kind to you, different from what she knew when the two of you had sex but god, she thinks you’re even more exquisite now.

“More?” Abby removes what remains of her clothing, leaving you to gawk at her muscled frame, small tits frame her chest perfectly. “How about you sit on my face, angel? How does that sound?”

She’s already made you come twice, just on her tongue alone, pushing for a third as she holds you by the waist, waiting for your overstimulated body to give into her once more.

Abby makes everyone look inadequate when it comes to her, no one could touch you like this, fuck you like this, slither their talent tongue inside your waiting hold as you take her out for a ride. Muffled moans against your dripping cunt sends shivers throughout your spine, body twitching as you feel yourself hurling closer to the edge.

You can’t help but ride her face as your head lies on the bundle of curves covering her mound and you’ve been too fucked out the entire time to do anything but you can’t help but notice the way her patient cunt is shining with her slick. Curiosity blooms within you as you notice the slight thrust of her hips, chasing a part of you that isn’t there.

With no sudden warning, you vigorously rub on her wet folds, applying pressure on her bundle of nerves as you spread her sweet juices along her puffed lips.

“Baby, nghhh, oh my god.” Abby slurps as she sucks your clit into her mouth before you fall right over the edge again. Her eager tongue fucks your through it with her tongue, letting your ride the high as your nails scratch her stomach, marking her as yours once again.

Abby helps your weak body slide down her legs, flipping you over as your pussy falls against her, her legs spread open as your head rests against her sternum, feeling the increased rate of her heart beat thump against her chest.

She smooths her hand over your hair, gorgeous hypnotic eyes pull at Abby’s heart. “We should get some sleep.”

“We can…unless you want to entertain a thought I’m having.” Abby raises her eyebrow as rotate your hips, clit bumping against hers as she throws her head back, a string of curses fall from her lips as she grips onto your hips. Happily, she lets you take control, pushing her strong leg over your shoulder as you glide against her soaked pussy.

“Oh fuck, fuck, holy fucking shit—”

Perfect tits bouncing as you rock your hips against her movement, the more you look in her eyes, you feel yourself yearning for another release. It’s never been this good, never with anyone. The moans she whispers, kept in the secret coven of your love, the spells she casts to keep you near — it trumps anything you’ve ever felt.

“Keep looking at me, Abigail.” The whine of her full name, only ever falling from your lips, the most wonderful symphony. It’s intoxicating how much she loves it. How much she loves you. Deep in her bones, even if she tries her best to pull away, she knows not a damn thing will ever compare to this. For this life and the next, she’ll be searching for you in everyone she meets.

She can’t live another moment with you. Not after ten years of agony, fuck no, she needs you like she needs oxygen to breathe. You’re not sure how long it takes, but you don’t forget how Abby looks at you with a tender heart that basically pours out of her.

“Baby, please. N-N-gh, I need you.” You push her forward, hitting a deeper angle than you were before until you hear just how wet she is with your forehead pressed against hers, “Show me how my pretty girl comes, yeah? Need a reminder, princess.”

Abby moans out your name, her body fucking up into you, slithering her convulsing cunt against your clit as her defined abdomen twitches and only relaxes when you follow her lead, you body collapsing on her. Two hearts beats become one as the two of you fall asleep, a quiet whisper of I love you, but you’re not sure if it falls from your lips or hers.

The morning air breathes lilies and fresh espresso, her sweet cinnamon cologne lingers in her sheets, where she held you all night with her heavenly embrace. Reality sinks in and then you’re afraid once again. You slip one of her button up shirts on, pulling on a pair of her sweats before your feet are met with the cool wooden floors.

She’s sitting there, those stupid glasses she apparently didn’t get rid of. Making her look stupid cute as she read the velvet-green covered book in her large palms.

It��s easy for her to tell how you feel, Abby knows you too well as she watches you with cautious eyes. You’re so afraid of it all. Always, you’ve been afraid of what she makes you feel, how close she pushes you to the edge of no return. A love you feel helpless to, especially when it eats you from the inside out.

“Do you wanna leave? I can take you home.” Abby doesn’t even look up from her book, she sounds annoyed, completely different than her vulnerable demeanor last night. It puzzles you when she closes herself off.

“Am I missing something? Did I do something wrong?”

Abby folds her book, marking the page on the sharp corner before she takes off her glasses. “You don’t owe me anything if that’s what you’re worried about. You felt like you didn’t before. You in all your city glory.”

Something happened.

“Abby, what’s going on?”

“You tell me.” She places your phone on the table and it’s the email detailing of your new book tour in Europe. One that lasts the better part of the year.

“You snooped through my phone?”

“I didn’t mean to, I thought it was mine, okay? I would never do that.” Abby sighs, “I really didn’t mean to fucking look. I just, it’s happening all over again, I’m losing you over something. I’m never what you pick and I can’t ever be enough for you. Even Hazel was right! All you do is hurt me and it’s my fault because I let you. I can’t keep chasing you. It’s a stupid dream I’m too dumb enough to let go of.”

“So, that’s it? Last night was just what? A mistake?”

“I didn’t say that—”

“But you did! Fuck, I should have known things wouldn’t change.”

“You should have known? This is the same reason why you left me. I’ll lose you, again, to something I can’t compete with. The both of us know it to be true. At least have the decency to admit it.”

“Do you want me to apologize? I did what I wanted! I have everything I wanted. This is everything I’ve worked towards for the best ten years—”

“But you don’t—” Abby puffs out her chest, standing taller than she has since you’ve been back. The words spill just like you did the night before, “You didn’t get everything, you made sure of it the moment you left me behind.”

Abby has backed you into a corner, stalking you like you’re her prey but this isn’t how she wants everything to be. Looking into your dreary eyes, she’s transported back to when you shattered her heart, splitting into pieces that no longer fit. The harder she tries to piece them back, the more jagged she becomes.

“I don’t want this. I’ve let go of it.”

I let go of you, sounds entirely too painful to say.

“That’s your plan? To pretend none of this has happened?” Abby’s tongue prods the inside of her cheek, a cocky smirk flashes your way. “Look at how well it turned out the first time.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Your arms cross over your chest, attempting to create some distance between the two of you, but Abby only closes you in.

“Why do you still wear it?”

“What are you talking about?”

Abby reaches for your hand, you untangle your limbs, the pad of her thumb loving running over the silky skin. Her calloused hand feels rough, just as it always has, but it also feels right.

The silver ring on your pinky, the one you lost and the one your father had conveniently found. But it was never him who located your perfect gem, nope. Not at all. Just Abby’s biggest fan, besides Hazel.

The reminder of her leaves a sour taste saturating your tongue, but you have no right. It's her friend, and just because you’re not fond of her, doesn’t mean a thing. You’re just a ghost still lingering in her life. Even if she answers there’s nothing, Hazel looks at her like you used to. When the same protectiveness switched into high gear last night, she only thought of how much you would do the exact same thing Hazel did if the roles were reversed.

Just maybe, not as cruel.

Abby takes the ring off your thumb, it shines in the dim lighting in the room.

“The day I fell in love with you, three months into our relationship, I gave it to you. Do you remember what I said?”

Simply, you nod.

“Wear this for as long as you love me and when you’ve taken it off, I’ll know we’re truly done.” Abby hums, your eyes shut as her thigh wedges between your legs but it only rests there. “But I hope you wear it forever.”

“Then let go of me, give it back, throw it away, but stop acting like you might still feel the same. I’m tired of being played. You know how much this ring means to me. Don’t leave me, again.”

It’s a cop out for what she really wants to say, the both of you know it is, but you have the decency to let it swarm past without making a single comment.

She’s begging for mercy. She’s tired. The lines on her skin are an indication of the hours she spends in the sun and the time passing by, engaging you in a never-ending tsunami of Abigail Anderson’s love.

“Abigail—” You say her name like it’s a curse, a spell you keep casting to make her fall deeper in your endless abyss. “Just because it seems like a good idea doesn’t mean it’ll work out. What makes this time any different?”

You slid away from her, needing to breathe, you can’t think when she’s too close. Serendipity finds home into honey blues, working its magic until she finds purchase in your heart once again. You’d let her get too close, more than you should let her allow.

Abby, the heart.

You, the head.

The dreamer. The thinker. Forever intertwined by the deadly kiss of fate.

“But if it did? What if we did?”

Abby doesn’t want to beg, but she is. She learned her lesson the first time. She said nothing all those years ago, letting you take the relationship the two of you had by the reigns, your cruelty being the fatal blow to what the two of you had worked so hard to build. Naivety crushed the future right in front of her — the one she regularly dreams of.

Each what if connected like constellations in the sky, each one just as bright as the next, Abby can’t make of which she wants. But Abby has always known it to be true, this has always been it for her but you’re so afraid.

Still petrified to be loved.

“I can’t let myself go through it again, if we didn’t? I can’t just—” You begin pacing, trying to get yourself into a position to clear your mind. The hope she has, it could kill you in your sleep. “I fucked up, okay? Last night shouldn’t have happened. I needed something and I used you. Is that what you want to hear? Will that satisfy you enough?”

“I want the goddamn fucking truth, Cherry. Stop with the lies. Tell me you want this to end because you don’t love me anymore, or that you want to go on this book tour, not because you fucked up. I don’t care if you fucked me because you needed your clit sucked for the night. Tell me the truth, Cherry, please.”

“Stop calling me that.”

Abby chuckles maliciously, “Why? You don’t like to remember when you were in love, the only time you ever were happy, the only time you ever let anyone get close to you?”

She attempts to get closer to you but you dodge her and walk to the other side of the room.

“You’re quite literally running away from me. Anything but facing the truth, right?” Abby sighs into her hands. The muscles in her body are exhausted, her heart is over spent, and her mind is filled with you. Even if she doesn’t want it to be. “Do you think I want this? To feel like this? To put my heart on the line when you clearly show that you’ll discard it every damn time? Do you think this is enjoyable for me?”

“Then stop! I’m not asking you to, just let me leave, let me go.”

“Let the ring go.” Somehow, in your heat of emotion, you grabbed it back from her and didn't realize it had been placed back on your thumb. “You know it was my mom’s, how could you so selfishly keep this?”

“What?”

Fuck. Abby runs her hands through her hair, gripping so tightly her sunkissed knuckles turn white from nearly being pulled from the root.

“But you said this was—”

“I lied! I was eighteen and scared shitless, okay? I didn’t want you to—”

“You didn't want me to….?”

Abby sighs rubbing her hand over her face, a habit she seemed to pick up in your presence. “If I tell you, you’re just going to run.”

You grimace, tearing up as you look at the ring, it means so much to her and all this time she was perfectly fine with thinking you got rid of it. Abby never so much as asked for it back. But everything feels more final with the ring in hand, the shining promise of something more. But the naivety of youth chilled her bones, made her believe that love like this comes and goes. It goes. And goes. And goes.

It never comes.

“Do you want it back?” You dodge whatever omission she was about to let fall. It’s what you do best. Avoiding the future — she’s always been ominous, constantly you’re scared to believe in the faith of her undying love. The forgiveness of her heart pours like an overflowing well. Abby teeters you along the line of grace you don’t quite deserve.

“No.” Abby sighs before she brings herself close to you. “I want you back, Cherry. There’s nothing I’ve ever wanted as much as you. When you left, everyone told me it’s just because you're my first love. Time heals all, right? But it doesn’t. Despite your best efforts, I’ll always love you. You’re—”

You take a step closer to her, “I’m what?”

“You’re the love of my life. If you walk at that door, it’ll take the rest of my life to fill the gap you leave. But if you don’t love me, then please, put me out of my misery and just leave.”

Abby looks down at the wood floors, tears collecting in her eyes as she expects you to walk out the front door, leaving her in the dust. But the slam of her front door never comes, instead you sink down on your knees resting your head on her knee, waiting for her to look down at you.

“What?” Abby grunts.

“There was this cute, really nerdy blonde girl, she puked on prom night, crying over some straight girl and somehow I managed to fall in love with her despite all odds but you know what the real kicker is?” You intertwined her hands with her, your head tilting to the side as your dreamily looked into sunny-blues, sticking to you like honey,

“I never, ever stopped.”

#brb need to go and cry again #i love this #i love everything #but i HATE hazel #dumb bitch #eren’s recs

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bestalbertcamuslover · 3 days ago

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Bad at Remembering Dates

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✯ pairing: Jenson Button x Wife!Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: none✯

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The computer cast a faint light over her face as she kept working, even though it was past midnight. She had a major project going on at work, and since some unexpected complications had arisen, she had to sacrifice some of her sleep to meet the deadline.

“Love, you’re still awake?” Jenson murmured, sleepy, as he approached the living room. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite the concern in his eyes. “You said you’d be in bed an hour ago,” he reminded her softly. “I told you I’d give you some time, but here we are.”

She sighed, her fingers pausing on the keyboard. “I know, I know. I just got caught up again. This is crunch time.”

He pushed off the doorframe and walked toward her, his footsteps silent on the carpeted floor. “Love, I get it. I know this project’s important, and I know you’re doing everything you can to make it perfect. But you promised you’d rest, and it’s past midnight.” His voice held no anger, just gentle insistence.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, though the bags under her eyes and the sluggishness in her movements betrayed her words.

Jenson crouched beside her chair, his eyes level with hers now. He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, his hand lingering on her cheek. “You’re not fine. You’re running on fumes, and I don’t want you burning yourself out over this.” His thumb brushed lightly across her skin. “Please, just come to bed. The project will still be here in the morning.”

“Just thirty more minutes?” she tried, offering him a small, hopeful smile.

He shook his head with a soft laugh. “Not this time. Come on.” Standing up, he extended a hand to her, his expression expectant but kind. “I’ll make you tea in the morning if that helps seal the deal.”

Her lips twitched in a reluctant smile. “Fine, you win,” she said, sliding her hand into his. As he pulled her up, she felt a warmth in her chest—a sense that he always had her back, even when she pushed herself too hard.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, guiding her toward their bedroom. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he murmured as they walked. “But even superheroes need sleep.”

She laughed softly, leaning into his side. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

“Always,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She was deeply caught up in this project; she had even started counting time based on how many days remained until the deadline. Of course, that wasn’t the best way to keep track—especially since she was terrible at remembering dates.

It was January 19th, but for her, it was thirteen days until the project deadline. She had woken up very early to get some things ready before work. She left while Jenson was still sleeping. Lucky him, she thought.

Another hectic day at work went by—endless typing, too many meetings and discussions—but she definitely loved her job. She worked extra hours, as most of her coworkers did, with the deadline looming and the office buzzing with activity. The drive back home was routine: some traffic—not just on the roads, but in her mind as well—as she kept searching for solutions to the problems that had arisen as the project progressed.

The front door clicked softly as she pushed it open, stepping inside with a quiet sigh. She was finally home. The house smelled faintly of fresh coffee, though the mug she’d left on the kitchen counter earlier was long gone. Jenson was sitting on the couch in the living room, a comfortable and familiar sight—one of the few things that had remained steady in her frantic days.

He looked up as the door closed behind her, his eyes lighting up with a warm smile despite his obvious fatigue.

“Hey, love. Long day?” Jenson’s voice had a playful edge, as if he was amused by the way she had been running on fumes lately.

“Can’t even describe it,” she murmured, leaning against the door for a moment as she closed her eyes, savoring the calm of being home. “Another twelve-hour grind. But I’m almost there,” she added with a tired smile, still carrying the weight of her project. “Thirteen days until the deadline, so… I guess I’m just counting down the hours now.”

Jenson chuckled lightly, his gaze softening as he watched her. “I know you’re all in on this project, but you promised you’d come to bed early tonight, remember?”

She nodded, her eyes darting briefly to the clock on the wall. “I know, I know,” she sighed. “But there’s so much to do. I—”

“Shh,” he said, patting the seat next to him on the couch. “Come here. Just for a minute. Relax.”

She reluctantly took off her shoes and walked over, slumping down beside him. As she sank into the couch, he casually leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “You deserve a break,” he said softly, yet there was mischief in his voice for a reason she had not realized yet.

The exhaustion weighed down on her, but she felt a comfort as she leaned on him. The hum of the TV in the background was oddly soothing, even though she could hardly focus on it. She just wanted to close her eyes for a moment and let everything go.

After a few minutes, Jenson stretched and pulled out his phone from his pocket. He glanced at the screen, and without a word, he set it down on the coffee table.

“Your phone buzzing again?” she murmured.

“Yeah, I got a message from the guys about dinner tomorrow,” he lied, grinning slightly, since it was another “happy birthday” message.

She nodded absentmindedly, but as she reached for her phone to check a work email, a message from the restaurant popped up on her screen.

“Reminder: Your reservation for dinner is tonight, January 19th, at 8:00 PM. We’re looking forward to hosting you!”

Her heart skipped a beat as she stared at the message, her mind slowly connecting the dots. She froze for a moment, the realization hitting her like a wave. January 19th... Jenson’s birthday.

She turned to look at him, panic starting to bubble up. “Wait. Jenson... is it really?” Her voice trailed off as the realization sank in. The reservation! The dinner!

Jenson grinned, clearly aware of what was happening. “You just remembered, didn’t you?”

Her eyes widened, mortified. “I—I’m the worst! I didn’t even wish you a happy birthday this morning. And here I am, all caught up in my project, completely forgetting about—”

He interrupted her with a soft laugh, his hand finding hers and squeezing gently. “It’s okay. I knew it was coming,” he teased. “You’ve been counting down the days until that project’s deadline, so I figured my birthday didn’t stand a chance in your mind.”

“But I had that reservation! I made it months ago, and I forgot!” she exclaimed, feeling the guilt rise. “How could I forget? I must be the worst wife ever.”

Jenson leaned in, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, his expression affectionate. “Love, I’m not upset. You’ve been buried in work, and I know how important this project is to you. But you did remember—right at the perfect time.”

She gave him a sheepish smile, still feeling the weight of the forgotten date. “You’re too understanding. Seriously, I feel terrible.”

“It’s fine, love,” he said, sitting up and glancing at the clock. “It’s still my birthday. And we can still make it to that dinner.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You’re serious?”

“Of course,” he said, giving her an affectionate nudge. “Go change, and we’ll make it.”

Her guilt eased as she stood, grateful for his patience. “Okay, okay. I’ll make it up to you tonight, I promise.”

Jenson grinned. “I’m sure you will. Now hurry up before we’re late.”

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✯ authors note: English is not my first language and I hope you liked it <3

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reocidal · 2 days ago

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FILM DIVA!

PAIRING ALHAITHAM X GN!READER

WARNINGS alhaitham gets hit by one (1) (soft) (cardboard) popcorn bucket, one (1) instance of swearing. romcom ish? vibes?

WORD COUNT 703

AUTHOR'S NOTE um. haha whats this @phantasmaebg

ALHAITHAM has always lived his life in black and white, clear cut rules and a perfect routine. he has no need for the mundane "joys" of everyday life, or whatever kaveh's been harping about most recently. he'd made that clear to himself — and everyone else — on his first day at the akademiya. he's skipped lunch dates and dinner dates and movie dates and hangouts with his friends (they're not his friends, he says) in lieu of studying more. black and white, study and sleep, that's all he needs in his life.

he thinks it's only fitting that you waltz unapologetically into his life, whimsical splashes of colour and noise as a sick sort of karma afterwards. you're loud and bright and your blood (he assumes) is liquid rainbows and you're everything he isn't. you're also dragging him to a movie theatre right now, and he really doesn't want to go.

there's a permanent scowl etched onto his face, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black hoodie. you'd told him to dress casual, and then gone through his entire closet when he'd opened the door in something appropriate only for the most depressing and sombre of funerals. after a lengthy consultation with "the committee", as you claimed — he thinks you just spoke to the other voices in your head — you'd come up with the most casual of outfits possible in his (rather hopeless) case. a dark hoodie, and even darker jeans.

"seriously, dude, get something nicer," you'd grumbled, and he'd glared at you in response, but the mental note was still made.

you're quite the contrast to him — what colour even is this? chartreuse? whatever you're wearing is absolutely hideous and would make anyone wearing it look even worse, but not you. never you, apparently. he really hates his brain, but you're positively glowing in this lettuce-coloured garbage bag.

the movie is boring; he prefers to look at you instead — though he'd never say that out loud. the micromovements of your face, the expressions that you make, bathed in the ever-changing multi-coloured light of the screen — it's all a thousand times more intriguing than whatever's going on in the film.

halfway through the film, you turn to him accusingly. "you're not paying attention!"

"i am," he protests, although without any effort to actually oppose your claim. you raise an unconvinced brow and he shrugs. "not that this needs a lot of attention to be given in order to be understood. it's quite simple, actually."

"that's one of my favourite movies ever," you snort. "you shouldn't insult people like that, you shit!"

how does he fix this?

"or consider," he begins, smooth, placating. "the simplicity of the film is the exact reason why it appeals to you. it provides you the comfort that you yearn for without making you feel the discomfort of having to use your brain."

"are you calling me dumb, alhaitham?"

he grimaces. "no, y/n, you're very smart. really."

unfortunately, he also accidentally uses his comfort unruly children voice and not his i am being sooo serious voice.

your empty popcorn carton hits him square in the jaw. he picks it off the floor (no littering!) and rubs his face with his free hand. "this was somewhat unnecessary, don't you think, y/n?"

"thanks for the heads up," you reply, rather unremorsefully. "it'll probably happen again."

he's never been happier to be alone with you, he decides. better to be embarrassed alone than in front of an audience. wait, technically he's the audience here, right? how confusing; he hates to think about it. the rest of the movie passes rather uneventfully — he pays a little more attention than before, and you tone down the physical violence to only one or two jabs that you declare are accidental. (he knows they're not.) on the way home, you buy him an ice pack and a meat stew: PIZZA edition; 40% off! as an apology.

back at home, alhaitham thinks it over and decides that he does not hate you at all. after all your antics today, it concerns him tremendously. surely… surely not. he doesn't do romance; this is impossible! yet, a pale flush spreads across his face all the same.

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lvrgurlblobbu · 24 hours ago

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Home Is Where The Heart Is

zayne x fem!reader

⤷ cw: domestic!zayne, girl dad zayne x fem!reader, mentions of pregnancy, use of "you", teeth rotting fluff ^^

⤷ word count: 3.7k

⤷a/n: hello, this is my first time uploading a fic here on tumblr and i'm still in the process of figuring things out, this is also my first zayne fic & i'm looking forward for writing more! hope you enjoy reading : )

ao3

The rays of the morning sun made its way through the bedroom window, Zayne slowly stirred from his sleep. As his eyes fluttered open, he blinked a few times, adjusting to the morning light. His gaze drifted across the room, landing on the peaceful scene before him. There, nestled between him and his daughter, was the sight he had grown accustomed to: you, resting comfortably between them.

You lay on your side, back gently pressed against his chest, his arm draped lovingly across your waist. Your five-year-old daughter, Hyacinth, with her small, messy curls, was nestled beside you, her tiny body curled up against yours in the most perfect display of familial love. Her soft breathing was steady, matching the rhythm of yours, and a serene smile rested on her face.

Zayne’s heart swelled with affection at the sight, a quiet, tender moment that filled him with a warmth deeper than words could express. He gently moved, careful not to disturb you and Hyacinth, and leaned in closer, his lips grazing your ear. He whispered, his voice hushed with awe and adoration, "This... this is everything."

You stirred slightly, feeling the faintest brush of his breath against my skin. You didn't need to open your eyes, since you know exactly who it was. His presence, so familiar, brought an overwhelming sense of comfort. Instead, you smiled, feeling his lips pressed against your cheek. Your daughter shifted a little, instinctively wrapping her tiny arm around you, as though trying to hold on to the peace of the moment.

Zayne smiled softly, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of your waist, as he placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder. “Good morning my love.” He whispered as he leaned closer to kiss your cheek. “Good morning.” You mumbled as you smiled at him, then after a while Hyacinth lifted her head, her eyes still half-closed and slowly blinking to adjust to the morning light. Zayne chuckled softly, his heart melting at the sight of your little girl slowly waking up. Hyacinth yawned, her tiny hand rubbing her eyes as she shifted beside you. Her sleepy gaze wandered between you and Zayne, still not fully awake, her lips curling into a drowsy smile when she saw you both.

"Morning, Daddy," she murmured, her voice hushed but full of warmth. She reached her small hand toward him, her fingers lightly brushing against his chest as she nestled closer to you. Zayne grinned, his heart swelling even more as he lifted Hyacinth and placed her on his chest. "Good morning, sweet girl," he whispered, his voice soft and affectionate.

You couldn’t help but smile at the pure, tender moment unfolding before you. It felt like time had slowed, and in that moment, nothing else mattered but the three of you—together, in your little cocoon of love. You shifted to face the both of them, head resting on Zayne as you gently brushed Hyacinth’s hair, her face buried in the crook of Zayne’s neck as she snuggled closer to him. You enjoyed a few minutes of silence, contented as you nestled against Zayne, then that silence was interrupted by a grumble of stomach. You and Zayne glanced at each other, holding back laughter then Hyacinth lifted her head, “I’m hungry…” she said shyly as she buried her head on Zayne’s chest and she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck.

Zayne chuckled, “Alright sweetheart, what do you want for breakfast?” he asked softly as he brushed Hyacinth’s hair. She looked up to him and whispered “pancakes” followed by a small giggle, Zayne smiled, his heart swelling at the sight of his little girl’s happiness. “Pancakes, huh?” he teased, brushing a strand of hair from Hyacinth’s face. "Alright, you’ve got it. Pancakes it is." He leaned down to kiss the top of her head before shifting his gaze back to you, his eyes filled with love. I sat up and I carried Hyacinth, “Let’s change our clothes first okay? Then you can help daddy make your pancakes. Is that alright with you sweetheart?” You asked, Hyacinth nodded eagerly. It made you smile before getting out of bed, Zayne folded your blanket and fixed the pillows, making sure that the bed is tidy and fixed before making his way towards you.

His hand found your waist and he placed a gentle kiss on your cheek, “I’ll wait for the two of you at the kitchen okay?” you hummed as a response and Zayne slightly pinched Hyacinth’s cheeks before leaving your bedroom. The door closed behind him, leaving you and Hyacinth alone in the soft, quiet morning light.

“Mama,” she murmured softly, “will Daddy make the pancakes super fluffy today?” You smiled, your heart swelling at her innocent question. “I’m sure he will, sweetheart,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. “He always does and you can help him make pancakes.” you kissed her cheek which made her giggle, then you headed towards the cabinet to grab a new set of clothes before leaving the bedroom.

***

Hyacinth’s little footsteps echoed throughout the house as she ran towards the kitchen where she saw Zayne mixing the pancake mix. You approached behind her, when Zayne saw the both of you, he immediately grabbed two cups of hot cocoa and placed it on the kitchen counter, then he lifted Hyacinth to place her at the stool. “Here’s a hot cocoa for you, my love.” He said as he gave you your mug. “Thank you.” you said as he kissed your cheek, then Hyacinth spoke “Daddy, can I help you make them? And can you make them extra fluffy?” She pleaded and it made you and Zayne chuckle, “Of course sweetheart, you just need to hold this and I’ll help you mix the pancake batter okay?” Zayne said as he gave the whisk to Hyacinth, he guided her as she mixed the batter slowly.

You sat on the stool beside Hyacinth as you watched the both of them, giggles and laughter echoed throughout the kitchen as Hyacinth helped Zayne prepare the pancakes. You quickly grabbed your phone and took a quick snapshot of the moment, capturing the pure joy radiating from their faces. Zayne, with his apron tied around his waist, was smiling down at Hyacinth, who was standing on her little stool, carefully pouring batter onto the griddle with a look of intense focus. Her small hands were a little messy, but the joy in her expression was unmistakable.

You couldn’t help but smile at the scene, your heart full as you watched the two of them. It was moments like this that made everything feel perfect—seeing your family so happy, so full of love and life. The sound of their laughter filled the room, and you felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for these simple, beautiful mornings together.

As you set the phone down, Hyacinth caught your eye, waving her tiny hand at you. “Mama, come see! I made the pancake shape like a heart!” she exclaimed proudly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. You stood up and moved to her side, bending down to get a better look. The pancake, though a little lopsided, was indeed shaped like a heart, and your heart melted at the sight of her effort. “It’s perfect, sweetheart,” you said, your voice full of love.

Zayne wrapped an arm around your waist, kissing the top of your head, you smiled up at him, resting your head against his shoulder. “It’s perfect,” you whispered, watching as the warmth of love and laughter filled the kitchen, making it feel like home.

***

After a few minutes of preparation, the pancakes are now cooked and are placed at the dining table. Hyacinth sat in her chair as you placed a few pieces of pancakes on her plate. “Daddy, can I have more syrup please?” she asked and without missing a beat, Zayne smiled and immediately got up from his seat, reaching for the syrup bottle. “Of course, sweetheart,” he said, pouring the syrup generously over her pancakes, making sure she got just the right amount.

Hyacinth’s face lit up, her grin widening as she watched the syrup drizzle down onto her pancakes. “Yay! Thank you Daddy!” She lifted her fork and began eating, “Slow down sweetheart, you don’t want to choke on your food.” You reminded, she looked up to you with her mouth full of pancakes “Sorry mama..” she mumbled in between bites, her face flushing slightly with embarrassment. “It’s okay, just remember to chew and take your time,” you said gently, reaching over to adjust her napkin as a piece of pancake fell onto her lap.

Then you noticed the generous amount of syrup drizzled on her pancakes and immediately glanced at Zayne, raising an eyebrow in surprise. Zayne looked at you innocently, his lips curling into a playful grin. "What?" he said with mock innocence. "She asked for extra syrup, and I aim to please." You shook your head, trying not to laugh. "That’s way more than extra syrup, Zayne," you replied, eyeing the puddle of syrup on Hyacinth’s plate.

Hyacinth, looking up at both of you with wide, innocent eyes, chimed in, “I like it sweet, mama!” you chuckled as you shook my head, “I know sweetheart but that syrup is excessive. I know you like sweets like your daddy but we don’t want you to have a toothache, remember?” You said as you sat on your chair, Zayne, overhearing, rose from his seat with a smile and moved to the kitchen counter. “We can always make sure to have some extra brushing time later, huh?” he said with a wink as he carefully placed a couple of pancakes onto your plate. You gave him a playful look as he set the plate down in front of you. “I think I might need more than just extra brushing for this,” you teased, eyeing the stack of pancakes.

Once finished with breakfast, Zayne helped you clean up the dishes, his movements easy and familiar. You rinsed off the plates while he stacked them in the sink, both of you working together in a comfortable rhythm. Hyacinth, still full from her generous serving of pancakes, sat at the table, drawing on a piece of paper with her crayons, humming softly to herself.

“Mama, Daddy? Can I ask a question?” she said, you and Zayne glanced at one another before drying up your hands and approached Hyacinth. “What is it sweetheart?” you asked as you sat at the chair beside her while Zayne sat in front of you.

Hyacinth placed her crayons down as she looked at the both of you, “How are babies made?” she asked with such innocence her voice full of genuine wonder. You and Zayne froze for a moment, exchanging a quick, surprised glance. The question was unexpected, but you could see that she was truly just curious, her head tilted to the side in that way she did when she was trying to make sense of the world around her.

Zayne cleared his throat softly, giving you a small, amused yet slightly nervous smile. “Well, sweetheart,” he began slowly, glancing over at you for guidance, “that’s a big question. Babies come from a mommy and a daddy, and they grow in the mommy’s tummy.”

Hyacinth, clearly still processing, paused for a moment, placing both of her elbows on the table and resting her head in her hands. She looked up at the both of you with wide, curious eyes. “But... how?” she asked, her voice filled with innocent confusion, her little brow furrowed as she waited for an answer. You exchanged a glance with Zayne, both of you trying to figure out how to explain something so complicated in a way that would make sense to her.

Zayne looked at you, clearly asking for help. You mouthed “answer her question, doctor.” Then, Hyacinth asked again. “You say babies grow from mama’s tummy. Why? And how did they grow in mama’s tummy?” Her voice filled with much curiosity, Zayne chuckled nervously, but then turned back to Hyacinth, realizing he had no choice but to keep going. Hyacinth’s brows furrowed harder, her small hands now gripping the edge of the table as she leaned forward.

“Well,” Zayne started slowly, glancing at you for reassurance, “when a mommy and daddy decide they want to have a baby, something very special happens. A tiny little seed from the daddy meets a tiny little egg from the mommy, and that’s how a baby starts.”

“Huh?” she said confusingly, followed by another question “What seed and what egg?” You tried not to laugh at her confusion, knowing that this was turning into a more complicated conversation than you expected. Zayne looked at you, clearly trying to figure out how to explain in the simplest way possible.

“Well, sweetheart,” Zayne began carefully, “the seed is something very tiny that a daddy has, and the egg is something very tiny that a mommy has. When they come together, they create the baby.” She thought about this for a second before looking up at both of you again, her curiosity growing.

Hyacinth looked at both of you, her brow furrowing even deeper. “But where do the seed and egg come from?” she asked, her voice full of genuine curiosity, as if she wasn't satisfied yet.

You and Zayne exchanged a quick look. This wasn’t going to be a simple explanation, but you could see that she was really interested, and you didn’t want to leave her with more questions than answers.

“Well,” you said gently, “the seed comes from inside the daddy’s body, and the egg comes from inside the mommy’s body.” Hyacinth’s eyes grew wide, her face full of confusion but also a spark of intense curiosity. “But… how? How do they get there?” she pressed, not letting go of the question.

Zayne shifted in his seat, leaning toward her with a soft chuckle. “Well, sweetheart, it's a little complicated, but basically, the daddy’s seed goes inside the mommy’s tummy where it finds the egg, and that’s when the baby can start to grow.”

“But how does daddy’s seed get inside?” she asked, her tone serious and expectant, as though she was prepared for an even deeper explanation. You blinked, realizing that she wasn’t going to drop it anytime soon. She was really trying to understand. You took a breath, trying to keep things simple but honest. “Well, when a mommy and daddy are ready for a baby, they come together in a special way, and that’s how the seed and egg meet.”

Hyacinth’s brow furrowed even more, as if this explanation still didn’t quite make sense. “But... where did the seed and egg come from before? How do they get in there?” she asked again, her voice filled with earnest curiosity, clearly wanting to know more.

You and Zayne exchanged another glance, knowing this was the moment when her questions were diving deeper than you’d expected. You couldn’t help but admire her persistence, though. She wasn’t going to let go of this mystery until she understood it completely.

Zayne took a deep breath, leaning forward slightly as he tried to simplify it even more. “Okay, sweetie, so… the seed and the egg are part of our bodies from the very beginning. The daddy has seeds inside his body, and the mommy has eggs inside hers. But they’re too tiny to see, like little bits of dust.”

You nodded, adding, “When a mommy and daddy decide they want a baby, the daddy gives the mommy one of his seeds, and it goes inside her body to meet the egg. The seed and egg are so small, you can’t see them with your eyes. They meet in the mommy’s tummy, and that’s when the baby starts to grow.”

Hyacinth’s face remained thoughtful, still trying to wrap her mind around it all. “But how do the seeds and eggs know where to go? Do they walk?” she asked, her voice full of wonder.

You chuckled softly at her creative thinking. “Not exactly,” you said, smiling. “They don’t walk, but the seed knows where to go because it has to find the egg. The mommy’s body helps guide the seed to the egg, so they can meet and start the baby’s growth.”

Zayne smiled, seeing how hard she was concentrating. “It’s like a tiny race, and the seed has to get to the egg before anything else can happen.” Hyacinth giggled at the idea of a race but seemed satisfied for a moment. Then, her expression shifted again, and she asked, “So, does the egg just wait for the seed to come? Does it know the seed is coming?”

You and Zayne both stopped, realizing she was thinking deeply about how all of this worked. “Well, the egg doesn’t exactly wait on its own. It’s part of the mommy’s body, so it’s always there, ready when the time comes for the seed to meet it,” you explained gently. “It’s like when you’re getting ready for a playdate—you’re waiting, but you don’t know exactly when the other person will arrive. But when they do, you’re ready to start playing.”

Her eyes brightened as if that made more sense. “So, the egg and seed wait for each other, and when they meet, that’s when the baby starts?”

“Yes, that’s right, sweetheart,” Zayne confirmed, relieved that she was getting it. “The baby starts growing right after the seed and egg meet, and then it keeps growing bigger and bigger until it's ready to be born.” She thought about it for a moment before nodding seriously. “Okay, I think I get it now. The seed and egg make the baby, and they don’t walk, but they find each other.”

“Exactly,” you said, feeling a bit of relief. “You’re really good at understanding all this, sweetie.”

Hyacinth smiled, pleased with herself for figuring it out, then went back to her crayons. “Can I have one?” she asked, you and Zayne glanced at one another. “What do you want to have?” Zayne asked, Hyacinth looked at Zayne with a huge smile on her face, “A baby!”

You chuckled at her, “If you decided to have one then you may honey, but having a baby comes with great responsibilities. You may have one, once you grow older. Just like your daddy and I.” You said as you brushed her hair, but Hyacinth frowned, frustrated that you didn’t get what she was saying.

“No mama, what I want is that you and daddy to have another baby.” Zayne blinked, his expression a mixture of surprise and amusement. You paused for a moment, realizing what she meant. Hyacinth wasn’t asking for a baby of her own, but rather wishing for a sibling, one more to join the family.

You and Zayne exchanged a soft, knowing glance. You smiled warmly at her, understanding her innocent wish. “Oh, sweetheart, that’s very sweet of you,” you said softly, running a hand through her hair. “But right now, we’re very happy with our little family just the way it is. Daddy and I are taking care of you, and we’re very lucky to have you as our daughter.”

“But I want a baby brother or sister! So I can share my crayons and toys with them.” She said as she continued to draw on her paper, “and oh! The four of us could also cuddle all the time.” She giggled.

You smiled at Hyacinth, your heart warming at her innocent wish. As you glanced at her drawing, you saw that it was a family picture, with you, Zayne, her, and the little baby sibling she hoped for. The drawing was filled with love and joy, with each of you drawn in bright, colorful shapes and her little sibling represented by a tiny figure in the corner.

For a moment, you just stared at her, your gaze softening as you took in the picture she created—her version of the perfect family. You couldn’t help but smile at how pure and full of love her little heart was. But as you were lost in thought, you felt Zayne's gaze on you.

When you looked over at him, you found his eyes fixed on you, a gentle smile on his lips. There was something in his gaze, a mixture of affection and gratitude, that made your heart skip a beat. He wasn’t just looking at you with love for the mother of his child, but also with the same warmth and tenderness he always had.

“Maybe someday, sweetheart…” Zayne whispered to you, his voice gentle and filled with warmth. You smiled at him, the corners of your lips curving upward as you met his gaze.

"Yeah, maybe someday," you echoed, the words soft but filled with the unspoken understanding between you.

For a moment, the world around you seemed to slow down. You both watched Hyacinth, so absorbed in her drawing, her innocent wish for a sibling hanging in the air. There was a quiet peace between you and Zayne, a shared feeling that, no matter what the future held, you were content with the love you had right here, right now.

Zayne leaned in just slightly, his hand finding yours and giving it a soft squeeze. "Whatever happens," he said quietly, "I'm glad it's with you." You looked into his eyes, finding that familiar warmth and affection that had always been there. "Me too," you whispered, your heart full. "I wouldn’t want it any other way."

The two of you shared a quiet, understanding smile before turning your attention back to Hyacinth, who was now proudly showing off her drawing—her family picture, complete with the little sibling she hoped for. Her voice bubbled up with excitement as she pointed to the baby in the drawing, her face glowing with joy. "Look, mama! Look, daddy! This is us!"

You both smiled at her, your hearts full, knowing that whatever the future brought, your little family was already perfect just as it was. And maybe, just maybe, someday, her dream of a baby brother or sister would come true. But for now, you were content, surrounded by love and happiness in this moment.

And little did you know that Hyacinth’s wish was already being quietly fulfilled, though none of you knew it yet. The seed of a new beginning had already been planted—hidden, just beneath the surface—waiting to reveal itself when the time was right. Life was unfolding in ways you couldn’t yet see, but soon enough, the love you shared as a family would grow even more.

divider by : @enchanthings

#zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #love and deep space #fluff #zayne fluff #l&ds zayne #li shen #dr zayne #lads zayne #love and deepspace zayne #lnds zayne #dividers by enchanthings

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angelofthenight01 · 2 days ago

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Crumbling barriers

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

genre: fluff || warnings: none

It was late when Natasha Romanoff stepped into the dimly lit living room of the Avengers compound. Her black leather jacket clung to her frame, her movements sleek and purposeful as always. Her green eyes flickered toward you, briefly meeting your gaze before she looked away, the weight of something heavy lingering between you two.

You had known Natasha for a while now—long enough to understand that she was a woman of few words, one whose emotions were usually hidden beneath layers of skillful armor. Yet, tonight felt different. There was a shift in the air, something that made you uneasy, like a storm waiting to break.

“Didn’t expect anyone to still be up,” she said, her voice low and steady, yet there was an underlying tension that you couldn’t ignore.

You sat up from the couch, abandoning the book you had been reading. “Couldn’t sleep,” you confessed, your gaze studying her. “Bad mission?”

Natasha let out a quiet breath, taking a step further into the room. “You could say that.” She moved to the bar, reaching for a bottle of water. Her hand trembled slightly as she twisted the cap off, but it was almost imperceptible—just a fraction of a moment that would have gone unnoticed by anyone who didn’t pay close attention.

“Natasha, you don’t have to do this alone, you know,” you said, your voice soft but unwavering. You knew how fiercely independent she was, how much she fought to keep her burdens to herself. But you also knew there were moments when even the strongest needed someone to lean on.

She paused, her back still turned toward you as she took a long sip from the bottle. “I don’t need anyone,” she muttered, almost to herself, as if saying the words aloud would make them more true.

But you didn’t let her retreat. You stood up, closing the distance between you, your presence steady and warm. “I know you don’t like to rely on others. But you’ve got to know, Natasha, that you’re not alone. Not with me.”

For the first time that night, she turned to look at you, her expression guarded, but there was something different in her eyes. The cracks in her walls were starting to show, even if she didn’t want them to.

A pause hung between you, and then Natasha exhaled sharply, as if the weight of everything she had been holding back had become too much. “It’s just… hard, sometimes. To let go. To trust.”

You took another step forward, your voice gentle but firm. “You don’t have to let go completely. You just have to know that it’s okay to let someone in. Even if it’s just a little bit.”

Her lips parted, as though she was about to say something, but she stopped herself, her gaze flickering toward the window, staring into the night. The silence stretched, comfortable yet filled with unspoken words.

Finally, she spoke, her voice quieter than usual. “I never asked for this life, you know. The guilt… the things I’ve done… they don’t go away, no matter how much I try to move past them. And sometimes, I feel like no one really sees me, not the real me.”

You stepped even closer, your voice soft but sure. “I see you. All of you. And I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to be here. With me. If you’re willing.”

For a long moment, Natasha said nothing, but her gaze softened, her shoulders slowly relaxing. She took a deep breath, as if she were weighing your words, measuring their truth.

And then, without warning, she stepped closer to you, closing the gap you had left open between you both. Her hand reached out, brushing your cheek ever so gently, her touch light but filled with a tenderness that you hadn’t expected.

“Maybe… maybe I could let you in, just a little,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “But you’ll have to be patient with me.”

You smiled, your heart racing, but you remained calm, steady for her. “I’ll wait as long as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

And in that moment, Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, the woman who had been through more than anyone should ever endure, let her walls fall just enough to let you in. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

And you both knew that, in time, the rest would come. Together.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #black widow

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helloeverybodyhere · 3 days ago

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Melody in the Afternoon

Summary: Harry is stuck on a song, but his girlfriend Y/N, who also writes music, comes over to help. A cozy afternoon turns into a heartfelt moment of connection.

The autumn sunlight filtered through the curtains of Harry’s cozy London flat, casting warm golden light over the living room. Papers were scattered across the floor—pages filled with half-written lyrics and scratched-out ideas. Harry sat in the middle of the chaos, his guitar balanced on his knee and a frustrated crease between his brows.

He strummed the same chord progression over and over, muttering under his breath. “What are the bloody words?”

The front door clicked open, and Harry looked up, his frustration melting into a smile as Y/N walked in. She was carrying a bag of groceries in one hand and a familiar tote bag slung over her shoulder.

“Hey, love,” she called out, kicking off her shoes by the door. “Still stuck?”

Harry set his guitar aside and got up to meet her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You have no idea. I’ve written five different verses, and none of them are right.”

Y/N smiled as she put the groceries on the kitchen counter. “Good thing I’m here, then.” She reached into her tote bag and pulled out a small box. “Brought you something to fuel your creativity.”

“What’s this?” Harry asked, peering into the box to find pastries from his favorite bakery.

“Your favorite almond croissant,” she said with a grin, “and a latte. Thought you might need it.”

Harry pulled her into a hug, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “You’re a lifesaver.”

They settled on the floor together, surrounded by his scattered papers. Y/N sat cross-legged beside him, picking up one of the discarded pages and scanning the lines. “You’ve got some good stuff here,” she said, pointing to a verse. “But this part doesn’t flow with the melody.”

“I know,” Harry groaned, running a hand through his curls. “It’s driving me mad.”

Y/N picked up a pen and started scribbling on a fresh sheet of paper. “Okay, let’s start fresh. What are you trying to say with this song?”

Harry leaned back against the sofa, his gaze softening as he looked at her. “It’s about moments slipping away. You know, time moving too fast, not being able to hold on to everything.”

Y/N nodded, her lips curving into a thoughtful smile. “That’s beautiful. So maybe focus on a specific memory—something personal.”

“Like…” Harry hesitated. “Like us?”

She looked up at him, her expression warm. “Yeah. Like us.”

For the next hour, they worked together, their heads close as they traded ideas. Harry strummed the melody on his guitar while Y/N jotted down lyrics, occasionally breaking into laughter when one of them came up with something ridiculous.

“‘Time is a thief, stealing moments from me’?” Y/N teased, giggling. “You’re getting a bit dramatic there, Shakespeare.”

“Oi, it’s a work in progress,” Harry said, feigning offense as he leaned over to nudge her shoulder. “You’re the one who told me to get personal.”

Eventually, the song started to take shape, the lyrics weaving together effortlessly with the melody. Harry played the completed verse, his deep, velvety voice filling the room. Y/N leaned her head against his shoulder, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his knee.

When he finished, Harry set his guitar down and looked at her. “That’s it. That’s the one.”

Y/N smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling. “It’s perfect.”

Harry cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks. “You’re perfect.”

She blushed, leaning into his touch. “It’s your song, H. I just helped a little.”

“No,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You make everything better.”

The two of them stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s warmth as the autumn sun began to set outside the window. The room was quiet except for the faint strumming of Harry’s guitar and the soft sound of their laughter, their love woven into every note.

#famous!harry #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x oc #harry styles x original character

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tinytinyblogs · 3 days ago

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Punishment time darling

They give you everything you could ever want, but crossing them is a mistake you’ll never want to make.

Hyung line, Maknae line

Stray Kids Masterlist 1.0 & 2.0

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Han

Ghosting you, giving you the silent treatment—that’s Han’s specialty. He doesn’t need to yell, argue, or raise his voice; his silence is far more effective. It’s deliberate, calculated, and utterly consuming. Han knows exactly how to make you squirm, how to make your mind spiral into doubt and guilt. After all, he’s spent so much time being the perfect partner, the sweetest, most thoughtful person in your life. A sudden shift in his behavior is enough to make your entire world feel like it’s crumbling. When Han is upset, it’s not chaos that you face—it’s an eerie calm. He doesn’t reply to your texts, doesn’t meet your eyes, and acts as if you don’t even exist. At first, you might think he’s just distracted, maybe busy with something else. But the longer his silence stretches, the more uneasy you become. Han thrives on that unease. He loves the moment when panic starts to creep in, when you begin questioning every little thing. What did you do wrong? Did you hurt him? “Han, please, talk to me,” you plead one day, your voice trembling with desperation. He glances at you briefly, a flicker of something dark in his eyes, before turning away without a word. That single look says everything: you’ve disappointed him, and now you’re going to pay for it.

For Han, this isn’t just punishment—it’s a game. He’s a master of control, and his silence is his favorite weapon. He knows how to create a void that only he can fill, making you desperate for his attention, his approval, his love. The more he pulls away, the more you scramble to win him back, playing right into his hands. Days pass, and his sweet, doting persona feels like a distant memory. The warmth that once made you feel safe is replaced by a chilling detachment. You try everything to get him to respond—a heartfelt apology, small gestures of affection—but nothing works. That’s exactly what he wants. Han relishes your helplessness, watching you crumble under the weight of his absence. Finally, when you’re on the verge of breaking, he speaks. His voice is soft, almost kind, but there’s no mistaking the menace beneath his words. “You think I’m being cruel? No, love, this is what happens when you forget your place. I give you everything, and you repay me by disobeying? How ungrateful.” Then he leans in, his smile chillingly sweet. “Don’t make me do this again. You wouldn’t like what I’m capable of.” Just like that, you’re reminded that Han’s control over you is absolute, leaving you no choice but to obey.

Felix

Felix greets you with a smile as bright as sunshine, his voice gentle and soothing. “It’s okay, love. Mistakes happen. Just make sure you don’t do it again,” he says, his tone full of warmth and reassurance. It feels like everything is fine—like his words are an embrace meant to ease your worry. But slowly, almost imperceptibly, Felix begins to change things around you. For your own good, or at least, that’s what he firmly believes. The next day, you notice your phone is nowhere to be found. You search every usual spot, but it’s simply gone. When you ask him about it, Felix smiles sweetly, his expression as warm as ever. “You don’t need that, sweetie. I’m here, after all,” he says casually, as though it’s the most logical explanation in the world. His words are laced with affection, but there’s something about the way he looks at you that leaves you uneasy. Then comes the moment you try to step outside. The front door is locked, and the key is nowhere to be found—not in its usual spot or anywhere nearby. You turn to Felix, confused, only for him to greet you with that same sunny smile. “Where are you planning to go, love? No, no, just stay. There’s nothing important out there,” he says cheerfully, his tone almost playful. Yet the underlying message is clear: you’re not leaving.

As the days go on, it becomes harder to ignore the changes. His cheerful demeanor makes the situation even more unsettling. It’s not that he’s openly angry or upset. Quite the opposite—Felix is all smiles, his soft voice and kind words wrapping around you like a blanket. But that’s what makes it so unnerving. He doesn’t need to yell or punish you in obvious ways. Instead, he controls your world bit by bit, taking away your freedom one small step at a time, all while keeping that ever-present smile. Felix, the smiling punisher, ensures that every move he makes feels peaceful, even as he tightens his control. He’s convinced that it’s all for your own good, leaving you powerless to argue. You don’t know if he’s upset or not because he never shows it. He keeps smiling, as if everything is perfect, even when you feel the walls closing in around you. And in the end, that’s what Felix loves most—the way you eventually stop resisting. Under his ever-cheerful facade, he knows he’s succeeded when you no longer have the ability to disobey him. For Felix, it’s not about breaking you with force—it’s about molding you into someone who wouldn’t even think of defiance.

Seungmin

Seungmin is far more dangerous when he’s mad. He doesn’t lash out physically, nor does he lose his composure entirely. Instead, he wields his words like weapons, knowing exactly how to cut you where it hurts the most. For Seungmin, this isn’t just anger—it’s calculated, deliberate punishment. And in his mind, you deserve every bit of it for daring to upset him. His tone is calm, but the edge in his voice is sharper than any blade. “I trusted you,” he begins, his eyes narrowing as they pierce right through you. “But maybe I overestimated you.” Those words hit hard, striking the very insecurities you try so desperately to hide. It’s not just what he says—it’s the way he says it. That look of disappointment in his eyes feels like a weight pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. Seungmin doesn’t need to shout or raise his voice. He doesn’t waste his energy on dramatic outbursts. Instead, he lets his cruel words do the damage, each one carefully chosen to break you down. “You think you’re clever enough to deceive me?” he sneers, his tone dripping with disdain. The way he stares at you, unflinching and cold, makes you feel small and insignificant. As he continues, the tears well up in your eyes. You try to hold them back, but Seungmin notices immediately.

He always notices. And instead of softening, he doubles down, exploiting every vulnerability he can find. It’s like he’s taking inventory of everything you’re insecure about, everything you’ve ever been afraid to admit, and using it against you with precision. He doesn’t just stop at your tears. No, he takes them as proof that his words are hitting their mark. “It’s good you understand,” he says finally, his tone a mixture of finality and dismissal. “I don’t want to feel this way, but you leave me no choice.” His cold rationality feels even more crushing than outright anger would. Seungmin sees the way your shoulders slump, the way your gaze drops to the floor, but he doesn’t stop. For him, this isn’t about comfort or reconciliation. It’s about control. He believes you need to know your place, and in his mind, the only way to achieve that is to make you feel small enough that you’ll never cross him again. “You’re lucky I’m even giving you a chance to fix this,” he mutters, his voice soft but biting. “Next time, don’t make me regret trusting you.” Even as he walks away, leaving you alone, the weight of his words lingers. Seungmin doesn’t need to break you with force—he’s already broken you with silence, calculated remarks, and the deep scars left behind by his cruel, deliberate punishments.

Jeongin

Jeongin, with his innocent demeanor and soft smile, seems harmless at first glance. But beneath that sweet exterior lies someone far more dangerous than you could ever imagine. Jeongin knows how to wield his knowledge like a weapon, turning your deepest fears and darkest secrets against you without hesitation. His calmness when you make a mistake isn’t a sign of forgiveness—it’s a sign that he already has the upper hand. “Ah, do you need me to remind you who owns you?” he asks, his voice light and almost playful, but there’s no mistaking the edge beneath his words. Jeongin doesn’t need to shout or rage. He simply lets his actions speak for themselves, and those actions cut deeper than any punishment could. Jeongin’s obsession with control is rooted in knowing everything about you. It’s not just a pastime for him—it’s his greatest pleasure. Every secret you’ve tried to bury, every moment you’ve wanted to forget—Jeongin uncovers them all, keeping them locked away until the moment he decides to use them. He’s like a collector, carefully curating the parts of you you’d rather leave hidden. One morning, you wake up to find a small note placed neatly on your nightstand.

Your heart sinks as you notice the picture attached to it—a snapshot of a memory you’ve tried so hard to erase. The blood drains from your face as you pick it up, your hands trembling. You don’t need to ask who left it there. The message is clear, and the signature scent of Jeongin’s cologne lingers in the air. Moments later, he steps into the room, his usual soft smile playing on his lips. He leans in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, “Darling, if it weren’t for me, the whole world might already know what you’ve been so desperate to keep hidden. I’m the one keeping your secrets safe. Don’t you think it’s easier to just listen to me? To do as I say? That way, we can live peacefully together?” The casual tone of his words contrasts sharply with the weight of his threat. It’s not a plea for obedience; it’s a reminder of the power he holds over you. Jeongin thrives on the fear in your eyes, the hesitation in your voice as you nod. For him, the game isn’t just about control—it’s about watching you realize there’s no escape. He enjoys the slow realization that you are entirely in his grasp. And through it all, he keeps smiling, his innocence a mask for the dark intentions lurking beneath. To the outside world, he’s perfect. To you, he’s a master of quiet destruction.

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wonboni · 19 hours ago

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ོ˚•『 SEASONS ┆L.HS

『•˙synopsis: dating probably the most handsome man came with some obstacles here in there, insecurity being one of them.

『∙˙pairing: non idol! lee heeseung x insecure! fem reader

『•˙genre: fluff,a bit of angst,comfort,happy ending

『•˙warnings: mentions of a pet name’s, insecurities mentioned,

『•˙word count: 1.1k

『•˙note: y’all sum bout heeseung

You never thought you’d be here—sitting on the couch in your living room, feet tucked under a blanket, your head resting on his shoulder. The man beside you, Lee Heeseung, is, without a doubt, the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. He’s not a celebrity, not an idol (thankfully, you think), but there’s something about him—his smile, his eyes, his laugh—that has you feeling like the luckiest person in the world.

But sometimes, the world around him makes you feel… small. Heeseung had always been naturally charismatic, with the kind of looks that could turn heads wherever he went. And you? Well, you were just you. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter, there were days when the insecurity crept in, like a heavy cloud threatening to dampen everything.

"You're just so… perfect," you whispered one evening, your voice tinged with doubt. Heeseung was sitting next to you, scrolling through his phone, likely reading the thousands of messages and comments that fans left for him every day. They loved him—adored him. And sometimes, when you saw how easily they showered him with praise, you couldn’t help but wonder how he’d even look at you.

His fingers stopped scrolling, and his gaze immediately landed on you, sensing the tone in your voice. "What do you mean, baby?" He had that soft way of calling you "baby" that always made your heart flutter. But tonight, it didn’t feel as reassuring as it usually did. It felt heavy, the uncertainty gnawing at you.

You shrugged, trying to shake off the thoughts but failing miserably. "I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I’m not enough. I mean… you’re so, well, perfect and I’m just… me."

Heeseung tilted his head, a little confused, but his expression quickly softened with understanding. He placed his phone down, focusing entirely on you. "Babe," he said, his voice steady, as though trying to anchor you in this moment, "you’re more than enough. You’re more than everything I could ever ask for."

But your insecurities were stubborn. "But Heeseung, look at you. You’re always getting attention. People love you, admire you, and I’m just…" You paused, unsure how to even finish the sentence.

Heeseung gently cupped your face, lifting your chin so that your eyes met his. His gaze was warm, sincere, and there was an undeniable tenderness in the way he looked at you, as though you were the most precious thing in his life. "And that’s why I love you. Because you don’t need to be anything other than you." His thumb brushed across your cheek. "I’m not perfect, and neither are you. But together, we make something pretty damn special."

"But… it’s hard," you admitted quietly, feeling the weight of the comparison you couldn’t shake. "Sometimes, I just feel like I’m not worthy of you."

Heeseung let out a soft sigh, pulling you closer so that you were nestled against his chest. "Listen to me, my little marshmallow," he said, and you couldn't help but smile at the ridiculous pet name, but it warmed your heart. "You are more than enough for me. You’re perfect the way you are, and that’s exactly why I’m here with you. Not because of some image the world has of me, but because I see you—and I love every little thing about you."

You shifted slightly, still feeling unsure, but the weight of his words was beginning to lift the burden you carried. Heeseung always had a way of making things feel lighter, even when they were heavy.

"You're the one who makes my world brighter," he continued, his voice softer now, but still full of conviction. "I’m with you because you make me happy. Not because of your looks, or your achievements, or anything like that. I’m with you because you are you—and that's everything to me."

You leaned into him, the warmth of his embrace feeling like a safe space from the whirlwind of insecurities in your mind. "But I’m not perfect," you murmured, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Heeseung chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Of course, you’re not perfect. But neither am I. And you know what? I’m perfectly fine with that. I love you for your quirks, for your flaws, for your silly little habits. I love the way you laugh, the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking. I love everything about you, even when you’re being your clumsy little self."

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling the warmth of his affection sink into your chest. Heeseung always knew how to make you feel like you were the most important person in the room. "Clumsy little self, huh?" you teased, nudging him playfully.

He grinned, his eyes lighting up with that familiar mischief. "Yep. And I love that about you. You’re my perfect mess."

You laughed, a genuine sound that felt so freeing. And for the first time in a while, you realized how true his words were. You didn’t need to be perfect to be loved. In Heeseung’s eyes, you were already everything he could ever want.

The next few weeks were a journey, but Heeseung remained by your side, constantly reassuring you of his love. He would send you sweet texts, always ending with little pet names like cutie-pie, sugarplum, and baby bear. The way he would call you those silly names, teasing you playfully but always with so much affection, made you feel cherished in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.

One evening, after a long day, you found yourself in his arms again, the warmth of his presence washing over you. "Heeseung," you whispered, "do you really think I’m perfect?"

He smiled down at you, his fingers gently combing through your hair. "I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to be you. And that’s more than enough."

And in that moment, wrapped in his arms, you realized just how true those words were. In Heeseung’s eyes, you didn’t need to change anything. You were already perfect to him—imperfectly perfect, and that was all that mattered.

From that day forward, you still had moments of doubt, moments when insecurity tried to sneak in. But Heeseung was always there, reminding you with his soft words and affection that you were enough. And in his love, you found the confidence to believe it yourself.

In the end, it wasn’t about being perfect—it was about being loved just as you were. And that love, in all its imperfect, beautiful, and warm glory, was enough to fill your heart with happiness every single day.

©️ WONIBeONI

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thyras · 1 day ago

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→ of sage blossoms & fairytales

PAIRING → annatar | sauron x female!elf!reader

WORD COUNT → 9.3k words

SERIES → of sauron & the moriquendi

WARNINGS → 18+ MDNI - unprotected p in v, fingering, breeding kink, semi-public sex

SUMMARY → you are willing to give your husband another chance and open up parts of your new life to him, hoping it will guide him towards the light once more.

AUTHORS NOTE → so we are finally here, finally to the glorious reunion smut. this took me 6 fucking days to write and by the time I was done I wanted rip my hair out 😩 I wanted the smut to be perfect in every way so yeah. hope y’all enjoy 💕

PARTS → masterlist

As the days passed, you began to notice a subtle shift in your husband’s behavior. He grew quieter, his usual calculated demeanor softening into one of quiet observation. Yet his eyes never left you. They followed your every move—when you entered a room, lingered late to finish correspondence, or prepared for the next day’s work. There was something in his gaze, something that left you uneasy yet inexplicably drawn to him after everything that had transpired between you.

On this particular evening, he chose not to linger in the shadows as he often did. Instead, he made his presence known. Silently, he approached from behind, the faint rustle of his robes the only warning of his arrival. A wine glass appeared at your side, set down with careful precision as you sat surrounded by parchments and tomes. The flickering candlelight cast shifting shadows across his features as he moved into your line of sight, his presence commanding yet oddly soothing.

You straightened slightly, your finger hovering over the glass as you gave him a suspicious glance. “It isn’t poisoned, is it?”

Annatar chuckled, a low, melodic sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “No,” he replied smoothly, his voice laced with an amused warmth.

Still, you hesitated. Picking up the glass, you studied the dark liquid inside before taking a tentative sip. “Not for Maiar, that is,” he added with a sly grin, the edges of his lips curling upward in an expression that was equal parts playful and dangerous.

His remark caught you off guard. The wine burned as it caught in your throat, and you sputtered, choking mid-sip. He watched you, utterly unrepentant, his smile widening into something dazzling, his amusement barely concealed.

Coughing to clear your throat, you shot him a sharp glare. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“No,” he replied, shaking his head with mock solemnity, though the gleam in his eyes betrayed him. As you regained your composure, he moved to sit beside you, his movements fluid and deliberate, like a predator settling into a resting position.

You tried to ignore him, turning your attention back to your work. The scratching of your quill on parchment filled the silence as you scribbled notes, refusing to acknowledge his presence. For a time, he let the quiet settle between you, his gaze heavy but unspoken.

Until, finally, he broke it. “Tell me about Erynwen. Why—”

“Erynwen is none of your concern,” you cut him off sharply, your tone as cold as the ink drying on the page before you. You did not look up at him, your quill continuing its steady march across the parchment as though his question had not unsettled you.

But Annatar was not so easily dismissed. He leaned forward slightly, his voice soft yet insistent. “Surely you do not expect me to believe that.”

You paused, your hand faltering for just a moment before continuing to write. “Believe what you wish,” you replied curtly, though your voice lacked the firmness you intended.

He tilted his head, watching you intently, his presence pressing closer. “You speak her name with such care, but the walls you build around her tell me far more than your silence ever could.”

Your jaw tightened, and you clenched your quill, your writing forgotten. The air between you grew heavy with unspoken tension, the candlelight casting both of your faces in stark relief.

“Let it go,” you said finally, your voice low and steely, though it wavered ever so slightly. You dared a glance at him, his expression unreadable, a mask of calm that somehow only made him seem more dangerous.

He did not reply immediately, his eyes searching yours as though weighing your words. Then, slowly, he leaned back, a faint, enigmatic smile playing at his lips. “As you wish,” he said, though his tone suggested anything but surrender.

The moment passed, and you returned to your work, but the weight of his presence remained. Even as he sat silently beside you, you could feel the currents of his thoughts swirling around you, relentless and unreadable. You sighed deeply and set your quill down, the oppressive silence pressing in around you. The weight of his gaze was unyielding, and you knew he wouldn’t let the matter drop until you spoke.

“Erynwen is a lovely little girl,” you began, your voice soft. “She has a pure heart. She lost her mother when she was born, and her father... he couldn’t care for her. So he brought her here.”

“And you took her in?” he prompted, a faint smile playing on his lips.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You say that like I take in abandoned children as if they’re lost puppies or something.” He didn’t respond, only motioned for you to continue with an infuriatingly patient look. You sighed, reluctantly giving in. “I don’t recall that happening often—”

“Your ducklings?” he interrupted with a mischievous smile, his tone teasing. Your face grew warm at the memory, a bittersweet tinge accompanying the thought of the children who once followed you with boundless energy and wonder. They had clung to you, looking up with wide, trusting eyes as you guided them through lessons, preparing them for life.

“I was their teacher,” you exclaimed, attempting to sound dismissive, though the fondness in your voice betrayed you.

“I know,” he said, his smile softening. Slowly, he reached across the table and took your hand in his. His touch was warm, grounding, as if he meant to anchor you to the present. “I am happy that you have found that once more, Mori. But—”

“It isn’t healthy,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them, a confession pulled from the deepest recesses of your mind. It was a thought you had kept buried for so long, one you had only dared to confront in the quiet, lonely hours of the night. “This... need. This obsession I’ve had for so long, to have a child. It’s driven me down paths I—” You faltered, the words catching in your throat. “It’s brought me nothing but sorrow.”

His thumb brushed lightly over the back of your hand, a silent encouragement to continue.

“But this—having Erynwen—” you began again, your voice stronger now, “it isn’t sorrowful. It isn’t... it isn’t just about filling some void inside me. I’ve always felt called to nurture, to love those who are most vulnerable. It’s what I’m good at. It’s what I’ve always been meant to do.”

He studied you quietly, his expression unreadable but not unkind. The flickering candlelight cast shifting shadows across his face, but his eyes remained steady, locked on yours.

You sighed, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. “If you want to prove your desire to change, then...” You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. “Then how about you join us tomorrow? I’m sure she’d enjoy the company of someone other than just me.”

His silence lingered, and when he nodded, it carried with it a gravity you didn’t yet know how to name. You stood and carefully slid the parchments into the tome before you, closing it with deliberate precision. Turning to him, you smoothed the front of your robes, as much to steady your hands as to avoid his unwavering gaze.

“I must retire for the night, my lord,” you said softly, offering him a parting smile. Your voice was steady, though your heart threatened to betray you with its rapid cadence. “I have forgiven you for breaking my heart, Mairon, but for the rest... you will have to earn it in other ways.”

A flicker of something—determination, perhaps—crossed his face at your words. “Then I will strive to do so,” he replied, his voice low and filled with quiet resolve. “Good night, my lady.”

A warmth crept across your cheeks as the words left his lips, the formality stirring something deep within you. No matter the pain and the centuries of distance, you could not deny the way your fëa resonated with his. You had always loved the sound of that title coming from his mouth, the reverence in his tone a reminder of what you were to him. You were his—created by Eru himself as your fëa’s match. And no matter how much you tried to deny it, the song that bound you to him still sang in harmony, deep and undeniable.

You inclined your head, a gesture both courteous and distant, before turning away. Each step down the stairs felt heavier than it should have, as though the air itself clung to you, urging you to linger. Yet you pressed on, your resolve firm.

As you disappeared into the corridor, you could still feel it—his presence, his shadow. It crept across your senses, not with the cold weight of darkness, but like the familiar warmth of an embrace you had long since tried to forget. It was a warmth that had once been your solace, your sanctuary, and you hoped it could be that once again.

You squeezed Erynwen’s hand gently as the two of you strolled past the courtyard where you usually read together. She glanced up at you curiously, the change in routine catching her by surprise.

“Are we not reading?” she asked, her young voice tinged with uncertainty. You gave her a small, reassuring smile.

“We are,” you replied warmly, “but I thought we’d change things up today since I have more time than usual.”

Her eyes lit up at your words, the promise of extra time with you clearly delighting her. Ever since sending the correspondence to the Dwarves, you had heard nothing in reply. Without their response, the work had stalled, leaving you with more time to spend elsewhere. Though you were not one to busy yourself with knitting or sewing, you always found comfort in your books—and in Erynwen’s company. It seemed only fitting to fill your free hours with something that brought you peace.

“Are we finally going back to the river?” she asked excitedly, her face bright with hope.

You nodded, your smile deepening at her excitement. “Yes, we are.”

Before you could say more, she slipped free from your hand, letting out a delighted squeal as she raced ahead toward the path that led to the riverbank just outside the city. You followed at a leisurely pace, watching her golden hair catch the sunlight as she darted between the trees, her joy as infectious as the spring breeze.

Centuries ago, someone had planted sage blossoms along the riverbank. Over the years, they had flourished, spreading across the grasses and weaving their way into the landscape. The sight always tugged at your heart. It reminded you of home—the banks of the River Sirion outside Laureandor, where fields of sage had stretched endlessly, their pale purple blooms swaying in harmony with the gentle breeze.

The memory stirred something deep within you. The sight of those blossoms here, so far from your homeland, was both a comfort and a sorrowful reminder of what you had lost. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel gratitude toward whoever had planted those valuable seeds. Their thoughtful act had gifted you a piece of home, a tangible connection to the past that softened the ache of your grief, even if only a little.

As you reached the edge of the river, the breeze carried the faint, earthy scent of sage to your senses, and you inhaled deeply, letting the fragrance settle over you like a balm. Erynwen was already at the water’s edge, her small hands reaching out to touch the blossoms with reverent curiosity. You smiled softly to yourself, thankful for this moment—for the river, for the blossoms, and for her. It was a rare reprieve, a fleeting taste of joy amidst the lingering shadows of those nightmares that still haunted your dreams.

You sat down a little ways away from where Erynwen stood, her small hands gently examining the delicate purple blossoms. Carefully, you removed your satchel, its familiar weight shifting as you set it beside you. Inside were the books you had brought for today’s reading, their pages worn with use and love. You placed it on the soft grass, letting the earthy scent of the sage blossoms and the gentle murmur of the river envelop you.

Leaning back slightly, you allowed yourself a moment to take in the scene. Erynwen’s golden hair shimmered in the sunlight as she crouched by the blooms, her youthful curiosity evident in the way she carefully touched each petal. It was a peaceful sight, one that brought a faint, contented smile to your lips as you waited patiently for her to return.

When Erynwen finally returned, her face alight with excitement, you gestured toward the satchel. “Go on, pick one,” you said warmly. She eagerly dove into the bag, pulling out a familiar volume with a triumphant grin. Once she had settled herself beside you, you opened the book to the first page and began to read aloud.

Your voice flowed steadily, carrying the story to her attentive ears. As you read, Erynwen began to hum softly, her small fingers weaving some of the vibrant purple blossoms into twists she created in your hair. Her touch was gentle, and the rhythmic motion brought a quiet comfort. You smiled over your shoulder at her, watching as she worked with a concentration that made her youthful features all the more endearing.

But as your gaze shifted past her, toward the city gates in the distance, the smile faltered. A familiar ache stirred in your chest, the weight of absence settling heavily over you. You had hoped he would take the invitation, that you would sense the faint stirring of your fëa pulling at his. But there was nothing—no flicker of his presence, no hint of the connection that had once been as constant as your breath.

You tried to push the sadness aside, reminding yourself that he had never been at ease in the presence of your “ducklings.” Even in the past, he had observed them from a distance, his reserved nature keeping him apart from the warmth you so willingly shared with others. Yet, a part of you had hoped this time would be different—that he might step beyond the shadows and into the light you had always offered him.

For now, you let the bittersweet thought fade, focusing instead on Erynwen’s quiet hums and the gentle weight of her fingers in your hair. The story continued, the words flowing like the river beside you, rooting you in this moment of fleeting peace.

Sauron’s—no, Mairon’s—eyes lingered on you. Gods, he had to stop thinking of himself in that manner. If change was truly what he wanted, he had to stop referring to himself as that darker part of himself. Yes, there were times he slipped into that role—his plans still in motion demanded it, and he had lived that double life even with you—but when he was solely with you, he had to be Mairon. He had to shove that shadowed side of himself down and bask in your light, just as he had so boldly claimed he wanted.

Yet it pained him to do so. Your light was so pure, so untainted, that no part of his shadow could ever dull your radiance. That fact simultaneously drew him in and filled him with despair. Now, though, his plans with you had shifted. The desire to bend you to his will with power, to use the tools of his creation, had been replaced by a quieter ambition. He wanted to heal you—not with the ring, not with domination, but in a way that honored the love you had once shared. Still, the sight of the ring on your finger, one of the elven rings you and Celebrimbor had forged without his hand, filled him with a twisted joy. It was almost laughable to him that by some strange twist of fate—or perhaps some cruel joke from Eru himself—it had come to you.

He couldn’t decide if the sight of it was a blessing or a taunt. The ring, so cleverly placed upon your finger, gave him a sense of possession and pride, even as it reminded him of his failures. You, the wife who had once loved him without reservation, wore it so innocently, unaware of the complexity it represented.

And so, he would appease your wish for him to bask in your light. He would play the part of Mairon, the husband who adored you, because, at the end of the day, he needed you. He needed you to love him as you once did, untainted by the darkness that had consumed him. For only then could he truly build the world he envisioned—the world he believed could finally be worthy of the two of you. A world where you could once again walk free, unshackled by the curse Morgoth had placed upon you.

That was his ultimate desire. Not the power or the domination he had once sought, but the chance to see you as you had been, radiant and whole. And if it meant burying the shadows within him, at least in your presence, he would do it. Because, no matter the cost, he knew he could not endure a world without you.

He knew you were still suspicious, but he resolved to ease those doubts, no matter how long it took, even if it meant playing the part of the side of him you loved.

Sauron stood at a distance, watching as you sat among the familiar blossoms, the purple sage swaying gently in the afternoon breeze. The sunlight caught in your hair, making it shine like a piece of elegantly spun thread as you spoke with Erynwen over your shoulder. Your laughter, faint but unmistakable, carried to him on the breeze, stirring something deep within his chest.

He never wished to be the cause of your sorrow, yet he knew he had been—and still was in many ways. What you thought you saw in him, the man you had once loved so fully, had long since been lost to the Ages. Morgoth had seen to that.

In countless ways, Sauron knew he no longer carried even a sliver of the being he had once been with you. That version of himself, the one who had walked beside you in the light of Laureandor, felt as distant as a half-forgotten dream. So for now, he allowed himself the quiet indulgence of watching you, his resolve hardening with every glance.

You felt the familiar pull of his fëa against yours, like a gentle current drawing your attention unbidden. Turning, you caught sight of him descending the path toward the riverbank. A warm, enchanting smile graced your lips as your eyes met his. At that moment, Erynwen turned as well, her small hand tightening its grip on your shoulder. Her unease was immediate and instinctual, but you were quick to place your hand reassuringly over hers.

“It’s alright,” you murmured softly, your voice steady and calm. “I invited him.”

Erynwen said nothing, her wide eyes fixed on the ethereal figure walking toward you both. The way her small body tensed beneath your hand gave you pause. Children often had an unfiltered perception of the world, their instincts unclouded by adult complexities. Something about her reaction sparked a faint unease within you. Still, you reminded yourself that change—especially for someone like him—would not come overnight.

A part of you had hoped that Erynwen’s sweet, innocent nature might help him feel more at ease, might guide him in rediscovering the better parts of himself. Another part of you, however, simply longed to grant him entrance into this corner of your life, to share the light and peace you had found here in the glow of Eregion.

When he finally came to a stop a few paces away, his presence calm and measured, you took it upon yourself to bridge the gap. Gesturing to Erynwen, you introduced them, your tone warm yet gentle. “This is Lord Annatar,” you said, your voice carrying an undertone of encouragement as you glanced at Erynwen.

He inclined his head with practiced grace, his expression softening. “It is an honor,” he said smoothly, his tone reverent but understated.

“Hi,” Erynwen replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she clung to your shoulder. Though her shyness was evident, she offered him a faint smile before retreating behind you slightly.

“And this,” you continued, your hand resting lightly on the girl’s back, “is Lady Erynwen, my lord.”

Annatar’s lips curved into a polite smile as he inclined his head once more. “It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady,” he said, his voice warm and measured, though the natural charm behind his words seemed to go entirely over the little girl’s head.

Erynwen nodded hesitantly before shifting her attention back to her task. With careful fingers, she resumed weaving blossoms into your hair, her focus now on the comforting familiarity of her work. Though she didn’t say much, her small smile suggested that her unease had lessened, if only slightly.

You let out a quiet breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. There was still a long way to go, but this was a start—however tentative. And as Annatar settled himself near you, his gaze lingering on the girl’s careful handiwork and the ease with which you reassured her, you allowed yourself the smallest flicker of hope that this moment could be the first step toward something new.

“What has Lady Thilwen been reading to you?” he asked, his gaze dropping to the book nestled in your lap. His tone was light, almost conversational, though there was a faint undertone of curiosity that you didn’t miss.

Erynwen didn’t look up from her careful task of weaving blossoms into your hair as she replied, her voice soft but clear. “She’s been reading stories about Valinor, from before we came back.”

Her words carried the innocence of a child who only partially understood the weight of the tales she spoke of. You glanced at Annatar briefly, gauging his reaction, though his expression remained calm, his focus shifting momentarily to the book. His presence, while composed, seemed to ripple with unspoken thoughts, as though the mention of Valinor stirred something within him that he would never admit aloud.

You smiled faintly, brushing a hand lightly over Erynwen’s as she worked. “I love the story of the Trees,” she added, her voice carrying a quiet warmth. “Though I think she rather enjoys embellishing the stories with her own flair.”

Erynwen giggled softly, but said nothing more, her attention fixed on the delicate blossoms in her hands. Annatar inclined his head slightly, his gaze thoughtful as his eyes lingered on the book for a moment longer before returning to you. “I never saw those trees, Erynwen, so how could I embellish them?” you teased, a playful lilt to your voice. Erynwen giggled once more, her laughter light and carefree.

“Lady Galadriel said they were the most beautiful creations in the whole of Arda,” she said earnestly, stepping back to examine her handiwork in your hair. “To sit among them was to feel true happiness.”

At her words, you felt him twitch beside you, his composure faltering ever so slightly. The mention of Galadriel and the Trees stirred something within him—old wounds, old memories. You knew how his past deeds had left undeniable marks on the lives of all the elves who called this place home. You glanced over at him with a soft smile, your gaze steady and understanding. Without hesitation, you reached over and placed your hand atop his, a silent reassurance that you were here, and that together you could bear the weight of those memories.

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the tension in his frame eased. He returned your gesture with a faint, grateful smile before turning his attention back to Erynwen. “Has Lady Thilwen ever told you the story of the Two Lamps?” he asked, his tone light and curious.

Erynwen’s face scrunched in confusion, her brows knitting together as she looked back at you for clarification. “That’s not a story,” she replied, her voice almost teasing, as though testing the validity of his claim.

Annatar chuckled softly, the sound rich and unhurried. “Oh, it is,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Though I’m not surprised you haven’t heard it. It was before she awoke, before even the first moonrise over Arda. It is a tale that only the Ainur would be able to tell.”

Erynwen’s curiosity was piqued, her confusion replaced with intrigue as she tilted her head and glanced between the two of you. You could see the faint glimmer of fascination in her eyes, the promise of an untold story captivating her young mind. You smiled softly, saying nothing, and let Annatar take the lead, his voice carrying a weight of authority and experience that could only come from one who had witnessed the ancient days he spoke of.

After he finished his story, Erynwen was utterly captivated, her wide eyes sparkling with wonder as she begged to hear more. But Annatar, ever measured, refrained. “I’ll tell you another one another day,” he said with a faint, teasing smile. “I can’t reveal all my secrets at once.”

Though disappointed, Erynwen nodded and moved back to the river’s edge, her curiosity propelling her to explore the water’s edge once more. Her laughter and soft splashing soon filled the air, a soothing backdrop to the moment.

“I think she likes you,” you teased, a playful smile curving your lips as you leaned back on your hands, stretching your legs to relieve the dull ache that had settled in from sitting too long.

“I think she likes my stories more,” Annatar replied smoothly, his tone laced with quiet amusement. He reached over and plucked one of the sage blossoms from your hair, his movements deliberate yet gentle. Heat rushed to your face at the gesture, your heart fluttering in a way that left you momentarily breathless.

He chuckled softly at your reaction, his hand brushing against your chin with a feather-light touch before cupping it. “I think you do too,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, his breath fanning across your face as he leaned in, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours.

Your body betrayed you, melting into his touch as your lips curved into a faint, almost wistful smile. “I’ve always loved the wild tales you would tell,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “The good and the bad.”

His icy blue eyes softened as they locked onto yours, holding your gaze captive. His thumb traced a gentle path along your jawline, a touch so familiar yet so distant that it almost felt like an illusion. It reminded you of another time, another life, when such moments were effortless and unbroken by shadow.

The spell between you was interrupted by the sound of Erynwen’s laughter and the splashing of water, grounding you in the present. But even with the distraction, the warmth of his hand against your skin lingered, a reminder of the fragile connection you had allowed to bloom once more.

“Erynwen, darling, do not get too wet. Your aunt will be terribly mad at me if you ruin another gown,” you called out to her with a warm laugh. She paused, glancing back at you with a mischievous grin before retreating from the deeper water to the river's edge, her small hands now busy plucking stones from the shallows.

The gentle brush of his fingers against your temple drew your attention back to him. His touch lingered as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the intimacy of the gesture sending a quiet shiver down your spine.

“I missed this,” he breathed, his voice low, almost reverent.

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. You met his gaze, the icy blue of his eyes softer now, reflecting something unguarded and raw. It was a vulnerability you had rarely seen, a flicker of the man he had once been—a glimpse of the Mairon you had loved before the shadow had taken him.

Your heart ached at the honesty in his expression, the weight of centuries of regret and longing woven into those simple words. For a moment, you didn’t speak, letting the soft murmur of the river and the distant laughter of Erynwen fill the space where your reply should have been.

His hand moved to cup your face once more, and before long, his lips were against yours, soft and insistent. The sensation was intoxicating, pulling you into a dreamlike haze that made the world around you feel distant and unreal. Your fingers instinctively moved to his face, tracing familiar lines as the kiss deepened, his touch carrying a tenderness you hadn’t felt in centuries.

As his hands gently moved to lower you onto the bed of blossoms, you felt the petals cushion your back, their soft fragrance mingling with the warmth of his presence. Your heart raced as you surrendered to the moment, losing yourself in the familiarity of his touch and the overwhelming rush of emotions his kiss stirred within you.

But even as you melted into his embrace, a small voice in the back of your mind reminded you of Erynwen’s presence nearby. Reluctantly, with great effort, you placed a hand on Annatar’s chest, breaking the kiss. Your breaths came in soft, uneven pants as you gazed up at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of longing and restraint.

"We can’t," you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of the moment. "Not here, not now."

Annatar’s expression faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face. But it was brief, replaced quickly by understanding. He nodded slowly, his hand still lingering on your cheek as if reluctant to let go.

The two of you sat up together, the moment hanging between you like a fragile thread, delicate and easily broken. His hand eventually fell away, but his gaze remained fixed on you, intense and searching, as though he were silently asking for answers neither of you could yet provide.

“Thilwen!” Erynwen’s excited call shattered the tension like sunlight breaking through a storm cloud. “Look what I found!”

You turned to see the little girl standing by the water’s edge, holding up a smooth, iridescent stone, her small face beaming with pride. The sight brought a warm, steadying smile to your lips.

“It’s beautiful, darling,” you called back, your voice softer now, though your heart still fluttered from the intensity of the moment. “Why don’t you bring it over and show us?”

Erynwen nodded eagerly, skipping toward you with the stone clutched tightly in her hand. You shifted your focus back to her, grateful for her innocent joy, even as the echoes of what had just passed between you and Annatar lingered in the air, unresolved but undeniable.

For the rest of the day, you sat among the blossoms, basking in the gentle companionship of Erynwen and your husband. The warmth of the sun, the soft rustling of the breeze, and the quiet murmur of the river created a rare moment of peace—a reprieve you hadn’t realized you needed. Annatar, though often reserved, seemed content to let the lightness of the moment linger, his gaze occasionally drifting toward you and Erynwen with a softness you had not seen in ages.

It wasn’t until the familiar call of Erynwen’s aunt rang out from the head of the path that you realized how much time had passed. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the blossoms.

“Can we do this again tomorrow?” Erynwen asked, her face glowing with hope as she stood, brushing bits of grass from the skirt of her gown.

“Yes, of course,” you replied warmly, smiling up at her. She leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek in her usual affectionate goodbye.

“Bye, my lady,” she said, before turning to Annatar with a small, shy smile. “Bye, my lord.”

Annatar inclined his head slightly, a faint smile gracing his lips. “Until next time, Lady Erynwen,” he replied, his voice gentle.

At that, Erynwen turned and dashed up the path toward the city, her laughter echoing faintly as she ran to meet her aunt. You watched her go, the sight of her youthful energy a balm against the lingering shadows in your heart.

As Erynwen’s laughter faded into the distance, a comfortable silence settled between you and Annatar. The riverbank felt different now, as though the day’s events had imbued it with a new sense of possibility. You turned to face him, your eyes searching his face, hoping to catch even a fleeting glimpse of what might be going through his mind.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “For today. For being here.”

Annatar’s gaze met yours, and for a moment, the icy walls he so often kept raised seemed to thaw. His eyes softened, and you caught a flicker of something you couldn’t quite name—perhaps gratitude, perhaps longing. “I should be the one thanking you,” he replied, his voice low and steady, carrying a weight that matched your own. “For allowing me this... reprieve.”

You nodded, understanding the unspoken meaning behind his words. This day had been more than a fleeting moment of peace; it had been a glimpse of something you both yearned for. A reminder of the life you had once dreamed of sharing together, now tinged with the hope that perhaps, it was not entirely beyond reach.

The last rays of sunlight danced across the river, casting the pal purple blossoms in a golden glow, and you found yourself reluctant to leave this moment behind. The day had been a rare gift, a fragile thread of connection in a world still shrouded in uncertainty.

“We should head back,” you murmured, though the reluctance in your tone betrayed you. “Before the light fades completely.”

Annatar nodded in agreement, though he, too, seemed unwilling to break the delicate peace that hung between you. For a moment, neither of you moved, the weight of the moment holding you both in place. Slowly, your hand found his, your fingers intertwining with an ease and familiarity that made your heart ache. His touch was warm, grounding, and yet it sent a thrill through you as though it were the first time.

And then, just as you began to rise, his lips captured yours with a sudden, fierce intensity. A soft whimper escaped you as his kiss deepened, his hands cradling your face with an urgency that mirrored your own. There was no hesitation, no shadow of doubt, only the pure, raw need to hold onto this fleeting moment of connection.

Nothing interrupted you now—no curious little eyes, no calls in the distance. It was just the two of you, the river murmuring softly behind you, and the blossoms cushioning your shared embrace. The world melted away, until the only background noise was the pulsing in your ears

When he laid you gently among the blossoms once more, his body hovered over yours, you could no longer fight the yearning that had burned within you for so long. Centuries of pent-up longing surged between you, unspoken yet undeniable, pulling you both into a moment that felt as inevitable as it was overwhelming.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as the kiss deepened, and passion ignited like wildfire. The scent of the blossoms surrounding you mingled with his familiar deep metallic scent, driving your need to be enveloped in his very being once more. His hands roamed your body with reverent touches, relishing in every curve and plane.

You arched into him, savoring the weight of his body, pressing you into the soft bed of the grasses. A soft moan escaped your lips as his mouth trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

Your fingers trembled as they traced the contours of his face, relearning every plane and angle. His skin felt warm beneath your touch, alive with an energy that seemed to pulse in harmony with your racing heartbeat. As your hands slid down to his clothed chest, you could feel the steady thrum of his heart, a familiar song that called to your fëa.

Annatar's lips found yours again, hungry and insistent. The kiss deepened, igniting a fire that spread through your veins like liquid gold. His tongue danced with yours in a passionate waltz, each caress stoking the flames of desire that threatened to consume you both. His taste was intoxicating, a heady mixture of tartness and charcoal you had craved for centuries.

Your body arched into his, seeking more contact, more friction. His hands continued their exploration of your body with gentle squeezes against flesh and soft caresses, remembering where each gesture could elicit sweet sounds from you.

His fingers moved back to trace the curve of your neck after his gentle exploration, trailing his fingers down to the hollow of your throat where your pulse fluttered like a caged bird. You gasped as his lips followed the path his fingers had taken, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The heat of his breath against your skin sent shivers down your spine, igniting nerves that you had forgotten even existed.

As his mouth moved lower, his hands worked at the fastenings of your gown with practiced ease. The whisper of fabric falling away was lost beneath the sound of your racing heart. Cool air kissed your exposed skin, causing more goosebumps to rise in its wake. Annatar's eyes raked over your form, dark with desire and something deeper—a reverence that made your breath catch in your throat.

His hands skimmed along your sides, leaving trails of tingling warmth. You shivered as his fingers traced intricate patterns across your skin, like an artist memorizing his muse.

Annatar lowered his head, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. His tongue darted out to taste the hollow of your throat, eliciting a soft gasp. You arched into him, fingers tangling in his silken hair as he moved lower still.

"Breathtaking,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. "More breathtaking than Varda herself.”

His words sent a thrill through you, igniting a fire deep within. Your hands moved to his robes, fingers fumbling with the fabric in your eagerness. Annatar chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he helped you remove the garments.

The sight of his bare chest, sculpted and perfect, took your breath away. You ran your hands over the smooth planes of muscle, marveling at how he shuddered beneath your touch. Your exploration was cut short as he captured your lips once more, the kiss deep and consuming.

His lips trailed lower, mapping a path of fire across your skin once more. When they closed around your breast, a soft moan escaped you. His tongue swirled and teased, igniting sparks of pleasure that radiated through your body. Your back arched, pressing yourself closer as his hand kneaded your other breast.

Annatar's touch was hungry, almost starved, as if he couldn't get enough of the body that had once laid with him for centuries. His free hand skimmed down your side, tracing the curve of your hip before dipping between your thighs. You gasped as his fingers found your most sensitive bud, circling and stroking with practiced skill.

“So eager…so wanting.” He breathed against the pebbled skin as his teeth took your nipple between them, pulling gently.

You looked down at him at that moment, and he took your breath away. He was as equally as breathtaking underneath the warm hues of the setting sun as he claimed you to be. The way those warm, coppery hues showed in his golden hair and the burning passion in his sapphire eyes brought you back to every time he had taken you to a similar setting. Taking you into his arms and letting you take everything he had to offer.

His love. His devotion. And his light.

Your body trembled beneath the weight of your thoughts, every nerve alight with sensation as his fingers broke past your entrance. Those fingers moved with a skilled accuracy, drawing forth pleasure you had long begged to feel once more. He watched your face intently, drinking in every gasp and moan as they left your swollen lips.

The scent of crushed flowers rose around you, mingling with the musk of arousal. Petals clung to your sweat—dampened skin, creating a living canvas of pale purple against your flushed skin. In his eyes, you could feel through the intertwining threads of your fëa that he would love nothing more than to capture this moment and burn it behind his eyelids, never to part from it. The way you were sprawled out underneath him, covered in the very creations of Yavanna you worshiped faithfully. Their softness caressing you in ways he knew he never could.

You cried out as his thumb met your sensitive bud, circling it in a torturously slow movement as your pleasure coiled tighter in your core. His fingers curled inside you, stroking that spot that made you see stars. Your hips began to rock against his hand, chasing the building tension.

“So needy,” Annatar murmured, his voice a low, melodic purr that sent shivers down your spine. “Always wishing for more.” You nod in a silent reply as you struggle to find your words.

“I…I…” you panted against his ministrations.

“Your what, love? Did I already fuck all the pretty little thoughts from your head?” He tsked on the skin of your neck, fingers moving dangerously slow inside you now. “I’ve barely even started.” You whimpered against his words, while trying to give him the hint to quicken the pace again with the gentle rock of your hips. He took his free hand and pushed your hips down, anchoring them into the grasses.

“Tell me what it is that you wish to say, then…” he trailed off, lips hovering over yours again. “I’ll give you everything, my love; give you the whole world.” You looked up into his eyes through the haze of your lust, there was such a tenderness to him and the vulgar words. Words he had spoken so many times in situations like this. Words that would make your toes curl and release to find you at their implications.

He had promised you an altar once, one as divine as Varda’s and as beautiful as one of Yavanna’s creations, for all to worship you upon. But you did not want all of Arda to worship you as the goddess he saw you as; you only wished for one singular being to worship, and in turn, for his faithful service, you would worship in an equal manner with the devotion of a loyal servant.

“I want it all,” You whispered. “I want you, for all eternity, in every shape and form. My worship will never cease to outdo yours.”

Annatar's lips curled into a dark smile before they moved across your collarbone, pausing to nip and suck at the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder. The words of your confession drove him on, continuing to stoke his desire as much as he had been doing with you.

You moaned, fingers tangled in his silken hair once more as he lavished attention on your other breast, this time, his tongue swirling around the peaked nipple. The dual sensations of his mouth on your chest and his fingers between your thighs sent sparks of pleasure coursing through you. Your body undulated beneath him, seeking more contact, more friction.

The hand holding your hip down moved to grip your thigh. He hitched your leg over his hip, opening you further to his touch. The new angle allowed his fingers to delve deeper, curling and stroking against that spot inside you that made you see stars.

Your breath came in ragged gasps punctuated by soft cries of pleasure. The delicate thread of tension in your core wound tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. His lips found yours once more, swallowing your moans as he kissed you with a passion that stole your breath away.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and husky.

His words, combined with the relentless rhythm of his fingers, pushed you over the edge. Your release crashed over you like a tidal wave, pleasure radiating from your core to the tips of your fingers and toes. Your body arched as you cried out his name in release. Annatar watched you intently, his eyes dark with desire as he guided you through the waves of your climax.

As the aftershocks subsided, he withdrew his hand, bringing his fingers to your lips. You took them eagerly and wiped them clean with your tongue, relishing how you tasted against his fingers and how you made his length twitch against your thigh in anticipation.

“Now who’s needy,” you giggled. His eyes darkened with renewed desire at your playful jab. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that left you breathless. The taste of yourself mingled with his unique flavor, creating an intoxicating blend that made your head spin.

His hands returned to your body with hungry touches, drinking up every curve and swell once more. His fingers traced the arch of your spine, the flesh of your hips, and down the soft plane of your stomach. Each caress left trails of tingling warmth in its wake, reigniting the embers of your passion.

You reached for him, eager to explore in turn. Your hands mapped the broad expanse of his chest, marveling at the play of muscles beneath his skin until your fingers trailed even lower, eventually tracing the defined lines of his abdomen. You licked your bottom lip as he broke away; the anticipation of you taking in the very thing that you had so longed to feel drove the renewed ache in your core.

Your eyes finally looked down and saw how eager and wanting he was. He was larger in this form, but not terribly so. A generous amount of precum glistened against the tip, showing just how painfully ready he was to reconnect with you as you were with him.

Your fingers wrapped around his length, marveling at the silken skin stretched taut over the eager flesh. Annatar hissed in pleasure as you stroked him, his hips bucking involuntarily into your touch. You watched his face, mesmerized by the play of emotions across his features—desire, vulnerability, and a deep, aching need that mirrored your own.

With gentle pressure, you guided him to your entrance. The blunt head of his cock pressed against your folds, hot and insistent. Annatar's eyes locked with yours, silently seeking permission. You nodded, your breath catching in anticipation.

He entered you slowly, inch by exquisite inch. The stretch was delicious, your body welcoming him like the long-lost lover he was. When he was fully sheathed within you, you both paused, savoring the moment of perfect union.

"You feel so divine," he moaned, his voice thick with emotion. "Like coming home after an eternity away."

You cupped his face, drawing him down for a tender kiss. "I've missed you," you whispered against his lips as you felt the tears welling in your eyes. "So much,”

At that he began to move, his hips rolling in a slow, sensual rhythm that stoked the flames of your passion. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, building upon the lingering sensitivity from your earlier release. You moved with him, your bodies finding that perfect synchronicity that had always existed between you.

Gods, you had missed this. You missed actually feeling him buried deep inside you, not some shadowy illusion to stoke the flames of your longing. His warmth wrapped around you as the connection between you ebbed and flowed, transcending the physical and resonating on a deeper, spiritual level. Your fëar intertwined, pulsing in harmony with every roll, caress, and vulgar word you both would utter.

To finally have that missing piece of you returned felt magical, like finally gazing on the blessed shores of Valinor, even if you never wished to do so. This—This felt like what Galadriel had explained to Erynwen, what the light of the Great Trees felt like. Happiness. Serenity. And peace.

Mairon was all of those things to you. And now you could not help but let your walls crumble so Annatar—Sauron—whoever he wanted to be at any given moment, could also fit into those things for you.

Because to love a being like him was to love each and every face he bore.

As your thoughts returned to the present, you wrapped your legs around his waist, drawing him deeper. The new angle caused him to hit that perfect spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure rolling through your body. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped marks on his flawless skin as you clung to him.

The soft sound of skin against skin mingled with your breathless moans and Annatar's low groans of pleasure. The air around you seemed to shimmer with the intensity of your passion as if the very fabric of reality was bending to the force of your union.

It was as if the Valar themselves were crying out in happiness at your reunion, for you had always tempered his shadow and brought out the light in him, helping him walk back to that path toward redemption.

His lips found yours once more, the kiss deep and consuming. Your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, like two instruments playing a familiar melody. Each thrust, each caress, each kiss built upon the last, creating a symphony of passion that resonated through your very souls.

Annatar's movements grew more urgent, his thrusts deeper and more powerful. You could feel the tension building within him, mirroring the coiling heat in your core. Your fingers raked down his back, leaving faint red trails across the perfect skin.

“So beautiful…so divine…when you take all of me.” He panted against your neck after he broke away. “Taking all that your devoted husband has to offer.”

Your body arched into his, meeting his more powerful thrusts. His free hand snaked between your body to meet your swollen pearl, his thumb moving in circular motions had him drawing forth waves of pleasure that left you trembling and gasping.

"Yes," you breathed, your voice thick with desire. "Give me everything.”

Your words seemed to ignite something primal within him. Annatar's eyes blazed with an otherworldly light as he drove into you. You clung to him, the coil of release building in you. All you wanted was to prolong this moment, to stay joined with him in this perfect union for eternity. But your body had other plans, trembling on the precipice of ecstasy.

Annatar sensed your impending climax, his movements becoming more focused and deliberate. He angled his hips just so, hitting that spot inside you that made your eyes roll into the back of your head with each powerful thrust. His fingers worked tirelessly at your swollen bud, and in one long moment, for the first time in an Age, you released over your husband’s flesh. The feeling sent your toes curling in the grass as you cried out his name—his real name.

"Mairon," you cried out, your voice breaking with the intensity of your release. Annatar's eyes blazed with an otherworldly light as he drove into you chasing his own release now.

Your climax washed over you in waves of searing pleasure, each crest higher than the last. Your inner walls clenched around him rhythmically, drawing him deeper. The sensation of your release triggered his own, and with a guttural groan, Annatar buried himself to the hilt inside you. You felt the hot rush of his seed filling you, marking you as his once more.

For several moments, you both remained still, basking in the afterglow of your passionate union. Annatar's weight pressed you into the soft bed of flowers, his breath warm against your neck. The air around you still shimmered with the residual energy of your fëar finally intertwining once more after centuries apart.

Slowly, Annatar raised his head to meet your gaze. His soft eyes took your breath away. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours as he slowly withdrew from your body. The loss of connection left you feeling bereft, but his gentle touch soothed the ache.

His fingers dipped down between your soaked thighs, where he gathered up the spend that had leaked down before sliding his fingers back into your overstimulated cunt, filling it with even more of his spend. You moaned against the action, lifting your hips so he could go deeper.

His lips met yours briefly, fingers still lightly moving inside of you. “I doubt you wish to waste such a precious thing,” Lips met yours again briefly. “So I shall make sure you take every drop.”

"So thoughtful," you giggled as you gazed at your husband. The way his eyes sparkled with mischief and lingering desire sent a thrill through you. Annatar kissed the tip of your nose affectionately.

“Only the best for you, divine,” He whispered as his fingers continued their gentle ministrations between your thighs, spreading his essence within you, hoping that this time would be different. The oversensitivity of your flesh made you shiver, caught between pleasure and sweet torment at his touch. But you welcomed with a lazy smile.

"Mairon," you breathed, your voice trembling as you reached up to cup his face with tender hands. The tears that had been welling in your eyes since the start of your encounter finally flowed over. Your voice broke, a soft plea escaping your lips. “Don’t let this be it, please. After this, I could never bear to lose you again.”

He leaned down, pressing his forehead gently against yours, the closeness grounding both of you in the fragile moment as he withdrew his fingers.

"My sweet, beautiful wife," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as his thumb brushed against your cheek. His lips followed, pressing soft, reverent kisses to the tears spilling freely down your face. “I promise you,” he murmured, his voice steady and resolute, “from this moment, I will never leave your side again.”

The words hung between you, a vow spoken with the weight of centuries behind them, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to believe them.

#sauron x reader #sauron #annatar x reader #annatar #trop fic #rings of power fic #trop fanfiction

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