Taylor Swift - Imagines

tolerate it

tolerate it

Taylor meticulously polished the plates until they gleamed and glistened under the soft kitchen light. Each stroke of the cloth against porcelain felt like a ritual, a labour of love woven into the fabric of their daily routine. With delicate care, she finished preparing dinner, savouring the familiar rhythms of chopping, stirring, and seasoning. As the savoury aromas wafted through the air, she couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation building within her, a silent yearning for connection amidst the silence of their shared space.

Setting the table with the finest china and silverware, she indulged in the small pleasures of domesticity, finding solace in the meticulous arrangement of each piece. The long dinner table became a canvas upon which she painted her hopes and desires, a tangible reflection of the love and devotion she poured into every aspect of their home.

Sitting by the door, she waited with bated breath, her anticipation palpable as she imagined the sound of Y/N's footsteps echoing down the hallway. Time seemed to stretch endlessly before her, each passing minute filled with the promise of her return. And when she finally entered, Taylor greeted her with a battle hero's welcome, her smile a beacon of warmth amidst the shadows that lingered in the corners of their shared space.

Taking her coat with practised ease, Taylor guided Y/N to the table, her movements a silent ballet of grace and elegance. She served her with her best behaviour and actions, every gesture infused with a quiet longing for her approval. Yet, as she ate in silence, her attention already drifting back to the world within the pages of her book, she couldn't help but feel a pang of loneliness tugging at her heartstrings.

She watched Y/N read with her head low, her brow furrowed in concentration as she lost himself in the intricacies of the written word. Each turn of the page felt like a small betrayal, a reminder of the divide that seemed to widen between them with each passing day. She read such mature books, Taylor thought, her choices a stark contrast to the simplicity of her own tastes. And as she sat there, feeling tolerated rather than truly seen, she couldn't help but wonder if it was all in her head.

"Tell me now if I have it wrong somehow," she thought, the words a silent plea for reassurance amidst the uncertainty that clouded her mind. She knew she deserved better, that her love should be celebrated, not merely tolerated. Yet, as she sat there, a silent observer to the unravelling of their shared intimacy, she couldn't shake the feeling of being adrift in a sea of unspoken desires.

After dinner, she cleaned up, the clink of dishes a melancholy symphony that echoed through the empty spaces of their home. Y/N left for the bedroom without sparing her a second glance, her absence a tangible presence that hung heavy in the air. She noticed everything she did and didn't do, each action a silent testament to the growing chasm that separated them.

Retiring to the bedroom, she found her reading in bed, Y/N's attention already focused on the pages before her. She stood in the doorway, a silent observer to the scene unfolding before her, the ache in her chest threatening to consume her whole.

"How was your day, baby?" she finally spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper as she broke the silence that stretched between them. She didn't look up, her attention already drifting back to the world within the pages of her book. "Fine," Y/N replied, her tone distant and detached.

"Anything interesting happen?" she almost begged, her voice tinged with desperation as she reached out for even the smallest connection. But there was no reply, no acknowledgement of her presence in the room.

As she stood there, feeling the weight of her indifference pressing down on her like a leaden shroud, she couldn't help but wonder where she fit into the story of her life. She had made Y/N her temple, her mural, her sky, yet now she found herself relegated to the role of a mere footnote in the grand tapestry of her existence.

While she was out building other worlds, she found herself lost in the ruins of their love, searching for remnants of the connection that had once bound them together. She drew hearts in the bylines, tracing the contours of their shared history with trembling fingers, each stroke a silent plea for redemption.

Always taking up too much space or time, she thought, her presence a mere inconvenience in the grand scheme of her existence. But what would she do if she broke free and left them in ruins? Would Y/N even notice her absence, or would she fade into the background like a forgotten memory?

As she stood there, lost in the tangled web of her own thoughts, she couldn't help but wonder if it was all in her head. Did she do something wrong, she wondered, some unforgivable sin that had driven Y/N away? Every day she wakes and watches her breathing with her eyes closed, the weight of her unspoken words pressing down on her like a leaden shroud.

She knows her love should be celebrated, but Y/N tolerates it, a bitter reminder of the love that was lost amidst the ruins of their shattered dreams. And so, with a heavy heart, she resigns herself to another day of silent longing, hoping against hope that someday, things will change. But until then, she remains trapped in the gilded cage of her own making, a silent witness to the unravelling of their shared intimacy amidst the silence of their shared space.