#\\ my tooth ended up putting me out longer than i thought it would

[cinisemperium]

@shootstyled cont. from here ( new post because swapping to beta )

Izuku is rambling, his nervousness obvious but Shoto is unbothered by the stream of words flowing unchecked from his long time friends mouth. If anything, he finds it a little bit adorable. Some things never really change, and it is a comforting thought to know that at his core, Izuku was one of them.

"You are always welcome, no matter what time it is." The sentiment is given with a soft smile, the words quiet and sincere. Although not very social himself, Shoto was always happy to see his friends, even at odd, unannounced hours such as this. Izuku had been away for a while, working overseas for several years and it had been a while since he had seen the other hero's face on something that wasn't a magazine or television screen.

"Thank you. It took a lot of work to get Third Degree to it's current state, although your praise should really be going to everyone inside. It's thanks to them that the building is even functioning." Without everyone who worked under him, Shoto's agency would never have made it off the ground. Even on a day to day basis, his secretaries are the only reason he can even function properly as head of the agency.

"You've been busy, of course, in America? How were your studies?" As he asks the question, he steps aside, inviting Izuku into the building with a sweep of his arm.

[notanactressyayy]

·˚ ₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 | natasha romanoff

. ݁₊ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 . it was a new era of her life. she no longer had missions or a team to rely on — only endless free time, and a bunch of thoughts that weren't really helpful. Natasha for once, had time to pick up her phone — something trivial. through the dating app Tony had dared her to install months ago, she meets somebody. finally, her heart was at peace.

. ݁₊ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 . smut! i am not responsible for your content consumption! — a TW for the photo editing thing. this may be a sensitive topic for some. lonely Nat, insecure Nat — she edits a picture of her body, swearing, oral (N receiving). lots of fluffy stuff, too. set after Civil War.

. ݁₊ 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 . english is not my first language (🇧🇷) so i apologize for any spelling errors. this ended up SO MUCH longer than i initially planned. i put a lot of dedication into this so, yeah 🥹

thanks to my lovely @sunswish who helped me with the plot and the proofreading! ♡

The trailer was quiet, except for the faint rustle of the wind through the trees outside. Natasha sat at the small wooden table by the window, her knees pulled up to her chest, a steaming mug of tea resting untouched beside her. The Norwegian countryside was beautiful, vast and unassuming, but the stillness pressed down on her.

Her phone laid on the table, the screen dark. She stared at it for a moment, the faintest flicker of hesitation crossing her face. She’d never been good at this — being still, alone with her thoughts. For years, her life had been one constant motion: missions, battles, briefings, always moving forward because stopping meant thinking, having time to ponder about her life.

Her jaw tightened, and she looked out the window instead. What was she even doing?

She’d fought tooth and nail to become an Avenger, to carve out some sliver of redemption for herself, some sense of belonging in a world she’d spent so long working against. She’d believed in their cause, in their family, even when it meant trusting people with pieces of herself she hadn’t known she was capable of sharing.

And now? The Avengers were gone. Torn apart, like everything else she’d tried to build. She was a fugitive, hunted by the very government she’d once fought to protect. Her friends — her family — were scattered, some in hiding, some in prison. She was left with nothing but her name and a handful of private contractors who worked in the shadows. People she barely trusted, people who barely trusted her. Yet she still needed them for supplies, false documents, and a roof above her head. Funny, she thought.

She reached for her mug, her fingers curling around the warmth of the ceramic, though she didn’t take a sip. She had no mission now, no team to fall back on. No one to call when the silence became too much. She wasn’t sure if she missed the fights or the people more.

A faint vibration against the table snapped her from her thoughts. Her phone. She glanced down, the screen lighting up with a notification — some random email, one of these ‘no reply’ ones, nothing important. She hesitated, then picked it up anyway, her thumb hovering over the screen.

Scrolling through her phone felt… strange. Almost trivial. She opened Instagram, an app she barely used but kept around for the rare moments she wanted to feel tethered to something normal. The feed was full of snapshots of a life she didn’t recognize—vacations, dinners, smiling faces, people celebrating milestones she wouldn't ever have.

And right then, the name ‘Avengers’ didn’t make sense for her anymore. She was supposed to have this. This life where she would have a fun moment and think ‘oh, yes! i should absolutely shoot a pic and add to my stories’. After all, Natasha was just an unavenged girl, woman, human. A picture of a mother celebrating her daughter's birthday wasn't just one more picture showing on her feed. It was her dream.

She scrolled absently, her mind only half-engaged as her thumb flicked upward. Part of her wanted to throw the phone across the room and forget she’d ever picked it up. But another part—the quieter, lonelier part—held onto it like a lifeline.

She then receives another automatic notification. How has your love life been going? It took her a moment to remember what it was, and when she did, she let out a dry, humorless laugh.

The dating app.

She’d installed it months ago as a joke, because Tony had bet her she wouldn’t. She could still hear his voice in her head, teasing her. “Come on, Nat. You might actually meet someone who doesn’t want to kill you for once.” At the time, it was funny. She’d downloaded it, filled out the bare minimum of the profile, like: cat lover, captivating green eyes & martial arts enjoyer and promptly forgotten about it.

Her finger hovered over the icon now, her heart giving a strange, uncomfortable twirl in her chest. The idea of opening it felt absurd. What would she even say to someone? What would they see in her, beyond the scars and the lies and the mess she’d made of her life? That was made of her life? Could she even try and have a relationship? When throughout her life, she didn’t ever have a conversation about feelings? Clint was the closest attempt to that — he knew her past, more than the others, at least. So she spoke to him about things like that before. But he had a wife, kids, a home.

Natasha damned her heart every single day — for wanting a connection with somebody — for wanting to be somebody's, and for not being content with what she already has.

What does she even have?

She sighs deeply as she gathers a little bit of courage (that usually wasn't necessary when one was to open a simple app in their phone) and presses her thumb against the icon. Her eyebrows show a little frown as she realizes the app wasn’t open — she had held the icon for too long, making the options add to home and uninstall pop up on her screen.

“Goddammit,” she mutters to herself. Maybe she had done it on purpose. She considers choosing the second option. But her thumb, once again, hovers over the uninstall word for too long.

She was just confused. In conflict, with something so small. Although, she was braver than that.

“Let's just get over with this.” She mutters to herself as she finally opens the app — SparkMatch, she reads the name, for the first time. She lets out a scoff. Though the feeling of unease didn't take long before coming back to her. The about me section was completely empty, in exception for-

“Captivating green eyes. Cat lover.” she reads the words she had typed, aloud, cursing herself. It was what she had written in order to simply make the Iron Man laugh and leave her alone. “Great job, Romanoff. Truly irresistible.”

Scrolling down her profile, which was named only @Natasha1203— having in mind that her surname wasn't one to be openly shared — she finds the photos she had chosen, months ago, without really thinking much. Her gallery didn't have much cheering stuff. They were as nondescript as possible: a picture of a skyline she had taken while on the run. Her in sunglasses, her most common accessory. And.. a single closeup of her face, that felt too honest for comfort. She doesn’t know why she left that one there, for the world to stare at. Maybe it was the one moment where she caught herself looking like.. well, herself. If somebody squinted their eyes, they could see a small scar on her shoulder. She hoped people wouldn’t do that.

Summing up: the profile was a mess. And that was a perfect reflection of the person behind it. She doesn't make a move to edit any information — before remembering an important detail. It would be nice to change her profile's name, in case anybody (especially Tony, that was aware of this) tried to look for her.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203 was the new username.

Perfect. She does a little ‘tsk’ with her tongue, a little habit she developed when finishing a task.

Flirting was easy. She had been trained for it — trained in the art of seduction, molded into a woman that could slip into any persona, say the right words, touch in the right way, just to get what she needed. But this wasn't one of the spy programs she had access to in SHIELD. This wasn't about manipulation or information extracting. This was trivial. Normal.

Natasha browses through the app for a while. She stops in profiles of strangers that smiled back at her through their pictures — men, women, who were teachers, doctors, engineers. People with families and hobbies. Who had the chance to live a life without looking over their shoulders every second. Yet something about this.. gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling. It was faint, but it was there. Knowing all these little details about random folks, she could find small pieces of herself in each one: some did ballet when they were little. Some had a scar due a kitchen accident. Some did karate simply for liking the sport. Some liked peanut butter sandwiches. She quietly giggles, her previous nervousness replaced by a silly feeling.

Maybe it wasn't that bad. It is not like a random person was gonna crawl out of her phone screen and have a date right then, anyway. And there was another ‘problem’. This app was still american, while she was in a whole new timezone.

What a relief.

She shifts on the small couch of her trailer, now laying down on it, allowing herself to get entertained with SparkMatch. She even found some profiles that were probably deactivated by now, seeing that they were created, like, a decade ago. She purposefully clicked on the small heart on them, meaning Match. She softly laughs.

But the sound is interrupted by herself as she finds a specific user.

It was a minimalist profile — elegant, even. It didn't say much about the person's personality: it said enough. It wasn't extravagant or absurd like some she had found. And it certainly wasn't a mess, like hers.

Y/n. 34. Not good at small talk, but I'm a good listener. A photographer, currently traveling around. Just someone who thinks the world is too big of a place to stay idle for too long. Currently: Norway

It was truly something else, compared to the live, laugh, love bios or the gym rats flashing their abs.

Her curiosity picks up, and soon enough, she sees a picture of them in Oslo.

And it was posted just three days ago.

So they were active in this app. But this wasn't what her mind grasped. Traveling in Norway. International trips usually didn’t last just three days, right? So that meant they were still there. There with her.

Out of all countries in the world, they were there?

She reads the bio again. Currently: Norway.

A strange shiver runs down her spine the more she thinks about the situation she found herself into. She bites on her lip, her stomach twirling almost painfully, like a school girl texting her crush. She was the Black Widow, for God's sake. She didn't get to go on silly dates and receive flowers.

No. This was too much. Without closing the app, she locks the screen of her phone again and drops it to the couch, quickly standing up and running her fingers through her hair. There were many reasons why this wouldn't work, especially when she was a fugitive and could get recognized, even in a small cafe.

Heading to the tiny kitchen, she opens a drawer on the countertop and grabs a bottle opener, opening the fridge and taking a beer out. She removes the cap and downs the bottle with no second thought, the bitter liquid ripping down her throat. Deeply breathing, shakily. Amidst the vast emptiness, not only of the place she was currently settled, but of her heart too, she fought back tears. The glass of the bottle clicks against the marble countertop as she places it down, her hands tightly gripping onto the edge of the furniture, holding herself up. It was a hard decision to make, whether to take this opportunity and keep it safe in her heart, or to let it go and pretend it never happened in the first place.

But she wouldn't be able to rest tonight knowing she simply did nothing about that special person the app charitably put into her hands. So, on this night, the unshatterable Natasha Romanoff did something she never thought she would. Before heading to bed, she picked up her phone again. Gladly, she didn't have to look for the profile once more. She simply had to press onto the small heart next to their picture. And she did.

The screen flashed: It's a match!

Natasha blinked in surprise, almost dumbfounded by this message. But this was meant to happen, right? Now, she could only hope that she would receive something in return by the morning.

It felt.. good. She had something to expect, a little flicker of hope that followed her even in her dreams, that made her feel better than she could ever imagine.

And this was just the start.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

When the next day came, all of Natasha’s thoughts regarding the whirlwind of recent events were replaced by a single thing: that person. That New Yorker who was currently in Norway to take photos for a personal album. She initially wondered if she could really lower her guard like this and not think too much about Secretary Ross — who was still after her — but it was not like she would leave this trailer anytime soon. Thus, she needed a distraction, something to keep her brain entertained until this whole mess was over.

Talking to them was a relief — a solace she had been needing and didn't even know until now.

Talking to you.

Right away you had seen the match notification of SparkMatch, even if it was already one in the morning when it arrived. You sent this woman- Fanny? a message, and waited, but no response came until the next day. You wondered if she had impulsively pressed the match button and ran away from her phone out of nervousness. You actually imagined it, seeing the one picture of herself she published on her feed. Her profile was.. vague, to say at least, but she was incredibly beautiful, and indeed had captivating green eyes, like she boldly described herself. It made you smirk to your phone’s screen. No, genuinely smile.

It was pretty much clear that she wasn't a dating app person. And neither were you! You just had a better sense of organization than her, that's for sure. What if you two could really be a match?

As the day went on, you two engaged into a conversation that was surprisingly enjoyable for both sides. Opening the inbox chat, that could be found:

@Y/n: Good night. Is your real name Fanny Longbottom?

— eight hours later —

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Good morning! The first thing you ask a woman is if her name is real?

@Y/n: It just doesn't suit a beautiful redhead with captivating green eyes.

Natasha groaned to herself at this, laughing. The humor in the text was evident, and she loved that.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Right. It was a joke. You can call me.. Nat.

It was a glimpse of her name. It could be Natasha, Natalia, Natalie.. or all of these.

@Y/n: Nat.. that is better. Yet still very vague. Like your whole profile.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Perhaps my whole account here is a joke.

@Y/n: And we still matched. And sincerely, I'm intrigued. Intrigued and curious.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That’s a dangerous thing to tell someone you just met.

@Y/n: Personally, I wouldn’t call a cat lover dangerous.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Will you stop mocking me for my irresistible biography or what?

It was an easy playful banter. It felt light. Not like these conversations where you had to directly ask the other person to be nice to you.

@Y/n: You just don’t strike me as someone who spends much time on dating apps. What brings you here?

With that, she debated whether to mention Tony’s dare or not. She could talk about it, but not for now. If she’s sincere, about how much she needed not to be alone anymore, this could lead to something good, more profound.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: I’m just trying something new. What about you? Norway seems kinda away from the rest of the world.

@Y/n: It is. But sometimes you have to go far to find what you’re looking for.

Natasha leaned back, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She didn’t know who you were, or why your words seemed to settle something in her chest, but for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, she felt.. excited.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Have you found it?

@Y/n: Not yet. But I have a feeling I might be in the right place.

She stared at the message, her mind turning over the possibilities. She was already glad that this hadn’t started with “hey, you’re cute” or “what’s up?”, and now? It felt like she was in a dream — to find someone that shared her ideals, or that at least, thankfully, sounded like a mature adult.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Maybe Norway isn’t so bad after all.

@Y/n: So you’re also here!

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That seems like an excited message to me.

Gladly, her phone’s camera wasn’t capturing anything. Because she swore her eyes were sparkling right now.

@Y/n: Of course I’m excited, Nat. Now I have something else to think about other than shooting pictures.

Natasha stared at the reply, her fingers lightly brushing against the edge of her phone. There was something disarming about your words — direct, yet not forceful. And the way you used her name so casually made her blush.

She hesitated, before typing back.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: What do you shoot? Other than clever replies, apparently.

@Y/n: Street photography. Portraits, mostly. But I’ve been known to dabble in the occasional cat picture. You know, for balance.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Balance is important. What would the world do with no cat pictures?

@Y/n: I shudder to imagine it. Speaking of balance.. would you let me buy you coffee sometime? Or would that be too much?

Her breath caught. You really didn’t waste time, did you? she thought. For a moment, her walls threatened to go up again — she could almost hear that little voice in the back of her mind telling her that this was not a good idea, that it wasn’t smart, safe.

But she silenced it. It was too soon, for sure — but she couldn’t knock it till she tried it.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That depends. Are you going back to New York in the next few days?

@Y/n: I don’t have a specific date to go back. So I guess it depends on how things go.

Yeah. Now she felt a little pressured. It was a dilemma, she could be the reason you stayed or left. Adrenaline coursed through her veins — that was determination.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: It’s not like I am going anywhere anytime soon, either. But.. I like to play hard to get sometimes. How about we wait and see how things go?

@Y/n: Hard to get, huh? Well, patience is a virtue. Let me know when you feel like stopping the chase.

And you two went on like that — talking about your favorite portraits, sending her some — receiving her compliments, which sounded way too genuine for your liking. It was casual, like talking to a friend. Natasha didn't take long to start feeling comfortable with texting you. If she weren't a spy without a private number, she would've asked for your WhatsApp. Or maybe she was just exaggerating. The thing was: she didn't have to wonder about how to answer you. Your way of having conversations was so nice that she didn't feel forced to text back.

And with these new discoveries, Natasha felt like she could be in this new country without feeling too out of place. She feared that in the end this would be just one momentary experience, one of the many personas she played.

But shockingly, for once, she didn’t feel like paying attention to her overthinking.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

Weeks had passed, and the nightly silence Natasha once dreaded was now filled with something else. Her phone screen, once cold and impersonal, had become an opening to something warmer. A new phase of her life. She never thought she would be so close to a mobile device before. Supersecret agents couldn’t have personal ones other than burner phones, it was risky — they could get hacked, tracked, recognized. She didn’t have a number, or an email with her name, bank accounts, or any sort of thing that could link her to the authorities. She only had TikTok, Instagram, some games like Candy Crush Saga and her newest best friend, SparkMatch.

Everyday, without fail, your conversations flowed effortlessly. You spoke about everything: Norway’s quiet beauty, silly anecdotes, and even the mundane things that somehow became meaningful when shared. She made herself get used to the habit of not thinking much. This wasn’t part of the plan — or rather, there was no plan. This constant connection grounded her in a way she didn’t fully understand.

Having someone willingly care about her, without having to ask, beg for it — she couldn’t understand.

This evening, after eating her exquisite caviar and drinking champagne, she settled onto her couch with a blanket draped over her shoulders. Her phone buzzed, and her mind involuntarily anticipated your witty reply, or question about her day.

Instead, a picture greeted her.

It wasn’t posed or staged — just you. mid-laugh, with a goofy expression that instantly betrayed your attempt to be serious. Your hair was a bit disheveled, and the lighting was off, but the image carried a kind of authenticity Natasha couldn’t let pass. The caption reads:

@Y/n: I don’t usually do selfies, but I figured you deserved to see what you’ve been stuck talking to all this time.

It was caring. You thought about her often enough to send a picture of yourself, doing absolutely nothing important.

Natasha softly blinked at the picture, completely still as her brain worked to process what she was looking at. It wasn’t just a picture. There was trust behind it, a hidden message. She couldn’t tell where you were getting at with this action — actually, she could. She just tried to convince herself of the contrary, afraid of putting her hopes up and screwing up afterwards.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Hi. I wasn’t expecting that.

@Y/n: Hi! How are you right now?

She bites her lip, incredulously chuckling. She was almost certain that this question was supposed to come before the picture.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Better.

She was feeling better, but not just that — she was feeling.. something. Something like.. seen. Like she was remembered by someone, like she existed, for once.

And those feelings stirred something even deeper within her.

The connection was becoming deeper — it was just now that she realized that the flirting which occurred every now and then wasn’t meaningless. It had a deep impact on her, in her soul — as a friend, as a person, and mostly.. as a woman. She needed it. She needed someone to like her, to pay attention to her, to see her — intimately, closely. Even better when this someone wasn’t a superficial person, and actually one who she related to and felt like she could share this dormant part of herself.

So she decides to share a picture, too.

She sits upright on the couch, the blanket falling and pooling around her hips as she opens the camera. She switches from the back camera to the frontal one, and takes a selfie. She was wearing a simple grey tank top, so her shoulders, collarbone and neck were on display. She wasn’t smiling smiling, just briefly, just enough to make a friendly expression. It was soft, tender. Unlike the deadly Black Widow.

Thankfully, for you, she didn’t have to be that.

So she presses send, laying back again and staring at the screen in anticipation — her eyes closely watching as the send mark changed into seen, that then turned into open. It stayed like that for a long while — like you were examining the picture and weren’t ashamed of it.

It gave her goosebumps.

The typing bubble appeared again after what felt like an eternity.

@Y/n: You’re beautiful, Nat.

It was a compliment you had already used on her. But this situation? Oh, it felt so, so different. You were talking about the simplicity, the domesticity of her in this closeup, the softness.

Fueling the fire that started to burn within her on this specific day.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Just a selfie.. don't get carried away. I'm hardly camera ready.

@Y/n: It's more than a selfie for me. It made my day. If that's not camera ready, I wonder how it'll be like when you try.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Would you like to see?

Oops. She didn't think before sending this one.

@Y/n: Hell, yes.

Her mind was immersed, totally consumed by the attention you were giving her — no jokes, no hints, just shameless flirting. Standing from the couch, she walks to her small bedroom, which was already dark, gladly — she closes her door, and slumps on her bed. Seduction was her nature, she couldn't control it. Though it wasn't necessarily a bad thing right now. Reaching her hand out, she turned on her yellow dim lamp, a gentle, warm glow casting her skin, making a better environment for the incoming picture.

She reopened the camera and adjusted herself in a comfortable position — knees pulled up, her left hand resting above her stomach as she held her phone with her right one above herself — taking the photo. There was auburn red hair all over the pillows, some strands framing her face perfectly. There was skin showing — a bit of her thighs, her arms, waist.. the curves of her body leaving room for imagination.

And something that she forgot about for the longest time.

The bullet scar above her left hip.

She stared at the photo on her screen, finger hovering over the "Send" button instinctively. The lighting was perfect, the pose effortless yet captivating. Her expression was soft, relaxed — but her pupils were darkened, a hint of the sinful emotions coursing through her body. But her eyes fell to the scar.

It was unavoidable, cutting through the smooth expanse of her pale skin like a brutal reminder. The bullet scar left by the Winter Soldier, a relic of her past life, stood out glaringly in the image. Her jaw clenched as a familiar wave of self-consciousness surged through her, a feeling she thought she had buried already.

She sighed, leaning her head back against the headboard as her thumb swiped to open the editing tools. It took her less than a minute to brush the scar away, leaving her skin unmarked, untouched. Natasha tilted her head, scrutinizing the result. The photo looked… perfect. Too perfect, perhaps, but she didn’t allow herself to dwell on that.

With a deep breath, she pressed send.

Unlike your other conversations, she felt.. heavy. Like the instinct of having to show her perfect body in order to be liked was speaking louder than her rational side.

The message was delivered almost immediately, but the seconds felt drawn out, agonizingly long. When the "seen" indicator appeared, her heart raced. She bit the inside of her cheek, anticipating your response.

The reply came swiftly:

@Y/n: Wow. I’m speechless.

She smirked (bittersweetly), her thumb hesitating for only a moment before typing back.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That’s a first. Usually, you always have something to say.

The typing bubble reappeared, and she waited, her heart thudding in her chest.

@Y/n: You make it hard to think, Nat.

Natasha felt warmth flood her cheeks, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Don’t let it go to your head.

@Y/n: I think it's too late for that.

For a moment, she wondered what you would have said if you’d seen the unedited version. Would you have found it ugly? Would you have pitied her? Or would you have admired her for wearing it like the badge of survival it was?

In her dreams, you would have worshiped it.

Before she could send anything else, you decided to take a shot on meeting her in person once again.

@Y/n: I'm sorry, I'll have to suggest. How about this: I'll find the best café within a 10-mile radius, and you can tell me if my photography is as good as my coffee recommendations.

Time passed, and the accusations against Natasha had toned down a bit. Maybe, just maybe, if she's careful enough, she can do this. The first date she'd have in what, a decade?

It was refreshing. And scary. But overall refreshing.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Deal. But I will be the judge in both.

The day and place was decided — it would be in Oslo, downtown — a café, where tons of people would be present. Natasha, growing up, became a master in blending in.

If fate decided to be on her side, this would be one of the best days of her life.

She tossed her phone onto the pillow beside her and laid back, staring at the ceiling. Her fingers brushed the scar again, tracing its jagged edges as if trying to understand its place in this new chapter of her life.

“Not everyone gets to see this side of me,” she murmured to herself.

And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if that was a warning or a promise.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

The café buzzed with the warmth of chatter, the soft clinking of ceramic mugs, and the occasional burst of laughter. It was tucked into a quiet corner of downtown Oslo, a place where the world felt comfortably distant yet close enough for her to disappear if necessary. Hours before, Natasha had dressed herself up — a burgundy dress, black tights, her usual black boots — and her jacket, of course. Her hair was naturally wavy, falling down her shoulders and back — and the makeup was simple. She wasn't a woman for makeup. But this time, she wore red lipstick and the faintest glitter eyeshadow.

She felt like a doll. It was stupid, a thing she liked to imagine how it would feel like back then — in the Red Room, where the girls wore black uniforms — grey sometimes, but always robotic, always calculated. It was a comforting feeling, which made her want to go back in time and tell little Natalia: yes! we are older now, and we are all dolled up for the date of our dreams.

Natasha arrived early — of course she did. She always did. She chose a seat by the window, her back to the wall, a vantage point where she could see everyone coming and going. Her heart wasn’t racing, but there was a slight tension in her chest. She sipped her coffee slowly, the warm bitterness grounding her as she kept an eye on the door. Then, you walked in.

Her doubting thoughts flew away the moment the green eyes landed on you.

She recognized you instantly. Your smile was smaller in person but somewhat warmer, more genuine. You scanned the room briefly before your eyes landed on her, and for a moment, Natasha thought she saw your breath catch. She softly smirks, gaze involuntarily daring.

Come and get me. This? Is all for you.

She shaked that thought away as she watched you approach her table — your clothes, your style, your body language — she scanned it all. The Black Widow wasn't an easy woman to conquer, which made her dump most of the people that tried to hit on her in the past. You were a rare exception, someone who didn't even have to try to make her heart race. It happened in it’s own.

“You made it,” Natasha said, standing to greet you, to give you a quick hug — the subtle press of your body against hers making her skin tingle. Damn it. She adjusted her dress before sitting back down. You did the same, sitting in front of her.

“Of course I did. This date was all I could think about,” you reply, eyes drinking her in, like she was the prettiest woman to exist. She truly was. “No. Let me rephrase. Seeing you was all I could think about.”

Natasha lets out a soft laugh, shifting her gaze towards the floor. She was so pale that the fact that she was blushing was, unfortunately, evident.

“Feels good to finally hear your voice,” she says, resting her chin on her hand as she stares at you. “In person. Not in audio messages or calls.”

After ordering pastries and more coffee for the both of you, the conversation flowed easily, from the usual mundane topics to little jokes that made Natasha chuckle softly. She found herself studying you more and more, the way you gestured when you spoke, the way your eyes lit up when you laughed.

Eventually, the question came.

“So, what’s it like?” you asked, your voice gentle but curious. “Being an Avenger?”

Natasha paused, her fingers brushing the edge of her coffee cup. She had expected this, of course. She knew it would come up. She couldn't simply hide, not when her face had shown up on TV so many times. But if necessary, she would say that this wasn't what she wanted to be anymore. Not with you. She simply wanted to be herself around you, and not the superhero.

She wasn't Natasha who assaulted T'challa. Wasn’t the Sokovia Accords breaker. She hoped you knew by now.

“It’s… complicated,” she said after a moment, her tone measured. “Not as glamorous as it looks on TV, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

You smiled. “I’m sure. But it’s still something, isn’t it? Saving the world, fighting alongside legends.”

A faint, nostalgic smile tugged at her lips. “It was something, yeah. But it wasn’t always about saving the world.” Her gaze softened as she thought back. “There was this time when Tony installed this AI in the kitchen — Friday’s cousin or something — to help us cook. It ended up burning everything it touched. Clint started calling it ‘Flamebot,’ and Steve…” She chuckled, shaking her head. “Steve tried to fix it, of course. Said it was ‘worth saving.’”

You laughed, and Natasha found herself smiling more openly. She was rambling.

“And Thor,” she continued, “he once mistook a microwave for some kind of… magical contraption. He tried to ‘summon its power’ with Mjolnir.”

“Did it work?” you teased.

Natasha smirked. “No, but we had to get a new microwave.”

The nostalgia warmed her, but it also left her feeling melancholic. She missed them. Not the missions or the battles, but the team — the messy, dysfunctional family they had become. You seemed to notice the shift in her mood and didn’t push further. Instead, you leaned in slightly, your voice soft.

“I can tell you miss them,” you said.

Natasha nodded, her walls lowering just a fraction. “Yeah. I do.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, realizing she needed some cheering up. This was supposed to be a happy day, not one to bring up sad memories. So you opened your bag, pulling out of it your camera — which made Natasha's eyes brighten up.

“You brought it!” she exclaims. “I almost forgot that you're a photographer,”

“I thought of the possibility of having to register this moment. And I was absolutely right. You look.. beautiful isn't enough to describe it,” you deeply sigh, as if surrendering to her, to this feeling of being completely in love. “Can I please take a picture of you?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly smile. “A picture of me?” she asked, her tone teasing. “You know that’s dangerous, right? What if you decide to sell it to the tabloids?”

You laughed softly, looking at her like a lovesick puppy, shaking your head. “I’m not interested in fame, Nat. Just in you.”

That made her pause, her smirk faltering for just a second. It wasn’t often she heard something so direct, so sincere. She tilted her head, studying you with those piercing green eyes, as if trying to gauge if you meant it.

“Alright,” she said finally, leaning back in her chair. “But only if it’s a good angle. No pressure.”

You grinned, lifting the camera and adjusting the settings with practiced ease. “No such thing as a bad angle with you.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, but the blush dusting her cheeks just got worse. She straightened up, her posture relaxed yet commanding, exuding that natural grace and power.

“Like this?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, a hint of amusement in her voice.

You brought your chair closer, lowering the camera for a moment. “No. Don’t pose,” you said quietly. “Just be yourself.”

That caught her off guard. Her brow furrowed slightly, and she shifted in her seat, unsure of what to do with herself for once.

“Be myself, huh?” she murmured.

You nodded, lifting the camera again. “Exactly. I don’t need the Black Widow. I want Nat.”

Her lips parted slightly at your words, and for a fleeting moment, the mask she wore every day seemed to slip. Her shoulders relaxed, her head tilted to the side, and a genuine, very shy smile spread across her face. “I-”

Before she could protest, the shutter clicked, capturing her in that rare, unguarded moment. “Perfect,” you murmured, lowering the camera and meeting her gaze.

Natasha shook her head, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

“Only the good kind,” you replied with a grin, setting the camera down.

She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand again as she studied you. “So, do I get to see it? Or are you keeping me in suspense?”

You turned the camera around, showing her the photo on the screen. Her expression softened as she took it in — the warmth in her eyes, the slight tilt of her head, the way the light framed her face, her rosy cheeks. It wasn’t just a picture. It was a glimpse of who she really was, beyond the layers of secrecy and survival. It was simply her, away from espionage, having coffee with her date.

Her unforgettable trip to Norway.

“It’s… good,” she said quietly, her voice almost hesitant.

“Good?” you ask. “It’s stunning. Just like my model.”

Oh, that…

The way you emphasized the word ‘my’.. the way you were making her feel.. actually precious. She was trapped.

“Alright,” she said, sitting back. “You’ve had your fun. Now tell me, do I at least get a copy?”

You laughed, nodding. “Of course. But only if you promise to go easy on me when I take more later.”

She smirks, her confidence returning. “We’ll see about that.”

As the evening wore, the sky showed a beautiful indigo, stars twinkling just like the sparkles in both of your sets of eyes. Natasha allowed herself to relax. To bask in this kind of normalcy that she never had the chance to experience. She had seen a lot, lived a lot. She knew what people could do in response to fear. She saw war and hatred, she saw coldness and cruelty. But from now on, she could live in a lighter way — like her heart was finally at peace.

“Should we get going?” you asked as the people also started to leave, standing and offering her a hand.

Natasha hesitated for half a second before taking it. Your touch was warm, steady, grounding, and promising. As you stepped outside, the cool air of Oslo wrapped around you. The city lights flickered like stars. Natasha felt a strange sense of calm. When she felt your arm enveloping her shoulders, her breath hitched, but she didn’t let it show — leaning into you gently.

“Where to now?” she asked, glancing at you.

“Well, the hotel, if you’re up for it,” you replied, your tone playful but not pushing.

That playfulness was a disguise for more surprises that awaited her back into the hotel room you were hosted in.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

When you unlocked the door to the hotel you're staying in, Natasha followed you inside, her steps hesitant, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to expect. The space was warm and inviting, even if it wasn't a fixed place — especially after knowing you for a good while now — tons of polaroids laying across the bed, portraits, some funko pops that you bought recently. But what caught her attention almost immediately was the bouquet of flowers resting on the counter, tied together with a simple ribbon.

Her brows furrowed slightly as she turned to you, her lips parting in surprise. She didn't even have time to look around the place. “What’s this?” she asked softly, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and vulnerability.

You stepped past her, picking up the bouquet and holding it out to her with a smile. “These are for you,” you said.

Natasha blinked, momentarily stunned. Her fingers brushed against yours as she took the bouquet, her touch delicate, as though the flowers were something precious. She examined them quietly — deep purple irises mingled with soft yellow sunflowers and a few sprigs of white heather.

“So you’re a hopeless romantic.. you didn’t take them to the café. What made you so sure I would come back to your place?”

You shrugged, leaning casually against the counter. “I wasn’t sure,” you admitted, meeting her gaze with an honesty that made her pause. “But I hoped you would. And, well, I wanted them to be a surprise. It felt more personal this way.”

Natasha glanced down at the flowers again, her fingers gently brushing over the petals. “You really thought this through, didn’t you?”

“I thought you were worth the effort,” you said simply, the sincerity in your voice making her blink rapidly, as though she was trying to process it.

Natasha smiled as she shook her head lightly, trying to dismiss the overwhelming feeling creeping up on her. “You’re really something, you know that?”

You chuckled, stepping closer. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She tilted her head, her green eyes studying you with a mixture of curiosity and warmth. “It is,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “You didn’t have to-”

“I wanted to,” you interrupted softly, stepping closer. “You deserve something beautiful. Something that shows how incredible you are, even if you can’t always see it yourself.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. The Avenger, the unshakable spy, was speechless.

Natasha turned to face you fully, the bouquet forgotten for a moment as she searched your face. It was almost desperate, how she tried to find reassurance, anything that told her that her past wasn't a problem. “You… you don’t even know the half of it,” she murmured.

“Maybe not,” you admitted. “But I want to. Every part of it, Nat. I want to know you.”

For a long moment, she just stared at you, as if trying to decide whether she could let her walls down one more time. Talking through an app was easier. In person felt way too serious. And then, with a deep, trembling breath, she set the bouquet back on the table and closed the distance between you.

She walked with determination, her chest lightly touching yours as her hands found their way to the back of your neck. Her fingernails softly scratched in between the hair strands. She didn't know what to say — she didn't want to say anything. In this very second, she simply wanted to feel. Feel what she never had the privilege to feel as the years passed, because yes, this felt like a privilege. She stood on her tiptoes to press herself closer, doe green eyes pleading.

They told you everything, and you didn't need to be passed the message twice. Your right hand cupped her cheek as the left one wrapped around her waist, bringing her even closer.

She was an angel. Not a deadly spy. A sweet angel to be taken care of. To have her needs satisfied and tears wiped away.

As Natasha felt you responding, she allowed her eyes to close.. basking in the darkness, wanting to be enveloped by this only one sensation. This soft, intense sensation of your lips against hers, moving in a way that wasn't rushed, but wasn't too deliberate either — your hands gripping her waist and bunching the fabric of her jacket, maneuvering her back against the counter. Holding onto your shoulders, she sat on the countertop, welcoming your body between her legs. The kiss lasted. She softly whimpered as she felt your tongue brushing against her bottom lip, asking for entrance, for more of her. And she allowed it. Her head tilted to the side, moving in sync with you — as your tongues danced, a dance she hadn’t discovered before.

Needing air, you pull away, foreheads resting against one another as you deeply inhale, messily. It was torture to stop kissing her, she was good. But air was necessary. Calming down, your arms circle her waist. A smile makes its way to your lips as you see the state she was in. Flushed. And…

“I think your lipstick is a little smudged,”

Natasha felt that — every nerve of her skin was burning, including the parts with the messy makeup. She lets out a huff of air and clears her throat, trying to find her voice so she could respond.

“That was…” she whispers, her hands cradling your jaw. “Wow,”

“You are ‘wow’,” you whisper, using your thumb to wipe away the red lipstick from the corners of her lips, fixing it. “You are perfect,”

“I'm not that- I'm not,” she nervously giggled, humming as you finished fixing her up. She shifted on the countertop, her legs pressing around your hips, as if afraid of you leaving.

“I wish I could give you my set of eyes,” your hands travel down to her thighs, feeling the slightly rough fabric of her tights, but that didn't make her skin any less smoother to the touch.

Her dress was basically all the way up her hips at this point, something she hadn't paid the necessary attention to, due being too busy making out with you — and in the pit of her stomach, a small flicker of panic started rising. This was reckless, so reckless. It is not like she didn’t think of the possibility of things escalating while coming back to the hotel with you, but in her head, she would have more control over the situation — and with that, manage to keep her secrets uncovered.

But she didn’t. Her body was reacting in its own and her mind was cloudy. She had zero control.

Before you could even touch the zipper of her dress, Natasha froze. Her breathing hitched — barely noticeable if you weren’t paying attention, but you were. Her hands, which had been so confident just moments ago, trembled as they pressed gently against your chest.

“Wait,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, as if it might shatter if spoken any louder. “Just.. give me a second,” she muttered, avoiding your gaze as she detangled from your grasp, getting off the counter and hurrying to the bathroom.

The sound of the door clicking shut echoed through the quiet room. Natasha leaned against the sink, gripping its edges so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her reflection stared back at her — flushed cheeks, wide eyes, red marks staining the corners of her lips.

Why did she have to choose a matte lipstick?

Her fingers brushed against her side, over the spot where the bullet scar lay. She had hidden it from you before, in that photo. It had seemed harmless at the time — a small deception to preserve the image of herself she wanted you to see. But now, in the raw intimacy of this moment, it felt like a betrayal.

She turned on the faucet, splashing cold water onto her face in an attempt to calm the storm raging inside her. She couldn’t lose this moment — not to her own fears, not to a scar that was just one more piece of her long and painful past. But how could she explain it? How could she show you this part of her without ruining everything?

Natasha pressed her hands to her face, inhaling deeply. It’s just a scar, she told herself. It doesn’t define me. It doesn’t change who I am.

Except that it does. And a small tear rolls down her cheek.

You’re not in the Red Room anymore, she reminded herself, gripping the sink harder. And this person… they’re different. They don’t expect you to be perfect. They just want you.

The doubt, the fears that you managed to keep away from her in the past month, came back to her — only a thousand times more painful.

Regardless, Natasha didn't have any more time to think, before she heard the doorknob turning, the damn door she didn't lock opening. She kept her head low, her body stiff as she continued to hold onto the sink. You could see her reflection in the mirror clearly. The fact that she was silently shedding tears.

“You're crying,” you state quietly, taking baby steps towards her.

“And you're bold,” she chuckles, the sound a mixture of tears and sarcasm. She sniffles, using her arm to wipe her nose. “Entering like that.”

“You're crying.” you shake your head, once again standing face to face with her. You reach out your hands and cup her tear stained cheeks. “What's wrong?”

“I…” she debated what to tell you. That she was afraid of physical intimacy since she was young? Or that she hid a crucial thing about her body all this time? “I don't know-”

“You’re hiding something from me and are afraid I’m gonna hate you?” you inquire, voice serious — not mocking, not pressuring.

What?

Her eyes go wide instantly, the tears stopping. You wipe them away from her cheeks, expression softening again as you prepared to explain yourself. “You’re part of a New Yorker superheroes team. There was absolutely nothing that spoke about your personality in SparkMatch, which is expected, Nat. I’m aware that there’s a lot that I don’t know about you. I know where I’m getting myself into.”

“For the longest time, all I wanted was company. Someone to talk to, to listen to me, and that I could listen to them. Someone to see me,” she quietly confesses, leaning her cheeks into your palms. “You did just that. You’re that person.. you filled a huge void in me. You saved me in more ways that you could ever know.”

“I’m so grateful for that.” you lean closer, pressing a lingering kiss against her forehead. She shyly wrapped her arms around your waist, her eyes searching yours once more.

“It’s not just that…” she adds, her breath hitching. She was now determined to continue from where you left off on the entrance counter. “I longed- I long for.. touches, and..”

“And closeness,” you complete, head dipping down and tucking itself into the crook of her neck. “Geez, you smell delicious,”

“It’s… Twilly D’Hermès,” breathless, Natasha speaks, a small hint of pride in her tone as she spoke about her moisturizing cream. “My body lotion,”

It wasn’t cheap, but she liked to spoil herself sometimes. It was also great to deal with the constant bruises and cuts on her skin. Your brows raise in surprise, an incredulous laugh escaping your lips. Natasha could feel the warmth of your breath on her neck, a surge of happiness and ecstasy washing over her.

“That’s.. pretty luxurious, one can say.”

“Can’t a woman spoil herself sometimes?” she retorts — interrupted by a gasp that left her as your lips pressed against her neck. Her eyes flutter shut, her hands holding onto your arms as she did her best to keep talking. “B-Besides, years of bruises and burns require good skincare.”

“I see,” you hum, nuzzling into her, into the spot behind her ear. She felt soft today. Now you knew the reason. After staying like that for a while, you pull back, looking into her eyes with a gaze that showed admiration, respect and concern towards her comfort. “Can I?”

She deeply inhales, feeling you reach for her dress again — only more mindfully now. Shrugging her jacket off her shoulders, she places it next to her on the sink and nods.

She was prepared for the question.

“Okay, hold on.” you kneel down, beginning to untie her boots, catching her by surprise. You remove them and place them aside, before slowly pulling down her tights. “Damn. Why did you have to wear something so complicated?”

“I wanted to feel beautiful,” she quietly chuckles, allowing you to get rid of the excessive fabric on her body.

So, it's time for the dress. You got up to your feet and slid your palm up her spine, holding onto the zipper and then pulling it down. Natasha was expectant, self aware, but mainly, consumed by her desire — finally awake again.

“I'll make you feel beautiful,” you nod, pushing the dress straps off her shoulders and sliding them down her arms.

“You already do.” She breathes.

She doesn't stop you from getting her off the dress. But when it stops below her hips, she tenses up. That's because she sees you freezing. To look at her. It's strange, to have someone look at her body with no apparent emotion. You didn't look at her as if she were a prize to win — an object, or a weapon. Helping her step off the dress, you toss it aside on the floor. Now nothing was disturbing you from taking her in. Her black underwear. Her toned muscles — which you assumed were from years of workout. And her scars. Cuts, a few small keloids, and the bullet scar.

“You didn’t have to hide this from me.” you breathe, dropping to your knees once more as you held her by the hips. She found herself leaning against the sink’s counter, breathing ragged, every nerve of her body buzzing in anticipation. “Makes you even more gorgeous.”

“I—”

“You're fucking gorgeous.” you hiss, kissing above the place that once had a bullet in.

Yup. Her dreams came true.

“Please,” she murmurs, not knowing how to vocalize what she wanted. But the heat pooling between her thighs told you everything.

Your lips make a path from her hip down to her pelvic bone, right hand grabbing her thigh and putting it on your shoulder — coaxing a gasp out of her. Your palm covers her scar, as though it were something precious about herself — making her feel safe, above everything. Natasha, for a moment, almost lost her balance — having to hold her weight with one foot — as your pointer finger hooked around the soaked fabric of her panties, pulling it to the side. You gave her one look. One look before diving in.

You are no longer alone.

She took the message. And her world exploded.

Your tongue working on her — licking past her folds, tasting her — as if committing to memory, and not just using her — her slender fingers tangling into your hair, pulling your head closer to her core, soft moans leaving her mouth as if there was no tomorrow.

“Yes,” She gasps, her hips bucking, seeking more of the kitten licks you showered her clitoris with. “Don't stop.”

None of her sexual experiences had been good in the past — not in the slightest. So having something so good, so pleasuring — it was truly her first.

In the Norwegian hotel, Natasha was more Avenged than she ever was with the Avengers. In the end of the night, she ended up with you on the bed — your clothes making each other company on the floor, as she lost herself — in your body, your scent, your hands on her,

and your love for her.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

You were tucked under the covers when the bathroom's door opened — the hot steam of her recent shower now dispersing and mingling with the air. You sat up, leaning against the headboard as you watched her with a smile.

Natasha walked towards you, the white hotel's towel in her hands, drying her damp hair. She was wearing a t-shirt you lent her, which was probably three times her size. She was smiling. Happily.

Before climbing back onto the bed, she absentmindedly placed the wet towel on an armchair. She gently settled onto your lap, straddling your hips, her head instantly nesting on your shoulder.

“Hi, baby.” you embrace her.

“If I have to leave the country, for any reasons,” she says, her hands tracing random patterns on your back. “Will you come with me?”

“I'll go anywhere with you.” you reply, voice unwavering.

She released the air she didn't know she was holding, and allows herself to relax her sore body. She nuzzled closer as you played with her still damp hair.

Maybe dating apps weren't so bad, after all. If she ever saw her team or Tony again, she would thank him for making her install it.

“Oh, and by the way,”

Natasha whispers, finally. Probably, you were aware. But it was one more thing about her true self she wanted you to know.

“My name is Natalia.”

[nothing0fnothing]

Most parents decide they're going to use their child's innate naivety and trusting nature to instill a sense of wonder. Santa Claus, the tooth fairy, mermaids are real, Disneyland. All that.

My parents used it to create an invisible panopticon that only existed in my mind so they could easily deny its existence if I reported it to anybody.

Basically, was told at a very young age, that there were tiny hidden cameras I couldn't see everywhere in my home, and in my clothes, and in my school. They gave my stepdad 24/7 round the clock acsess to view me whenever he wanted to. He said these cameras could not only record my face, voice and actions, but that they had special technology that could read and translate my very thoughts.

I was at the "mermaids and unicorns are real" age, so not only did all of this seem totally plausible, it terrified me. I was changing under the covers of my bed, worried he could see me on the toilet or in the shower, and worst of all I started monitoring and censoring my own thoughts, convinced he could hear every one of them.

My mum noticed I had started taking longer to get dressed and ready than I used to, and asked why I was wasting time trying to get dressed in bed. When I told her about the cameras she tried to convince me they weren't there, and even did a sweep of my room to prove it to me, but I didn't believe her. I thought my step dad had so much power he could even hide these mind reading micro cameras from other adults. She just kind of brushed it off, assuming this was some silly thing I'd be over in a week.

I wasn't.

He kept reminding me of them, so I continued to be scared of them.

The second time my mother heard of these invisible cameras were when another parent, concerned, told her about it.

See I'd been playing at her daughters house, and I was asking her to call my step dad to ask permission for every minor thing I did.

"Can you call my dad and ask if I'm allowed to play in the garden?" "Can you call my dad and ask if I'm allowed to watch TV?" "Can you call my dad and ask if I'm allowed ketchup on my chips?"

She would assure me she'd asked my mum and my mum said it was fine, but I was adamant it be my step father she call. Eventually, she asked me why I was so concerned about his permission to do these things I'd been doing fine every other time I'd been at her house.

"Because he's the one with the cameras."

I said it so naturally. Like every family had a parent who had the cameras and another who was under surveillance by them. I was worried that if I conveyed the frozen still fear I felt over these hidden cameras, it would seem that I had something to hide.

"There's no cameras in our house so you don't have to worry about it." She tried to convince me.

"Oh no, they're in my clothes" I said. "They're so tiny they could be in a zip or a button or on my shoe laces and nobody would know."

She was, understandably, freaked out by this.

I'm not sure if she beleived my step dad had just sent me bugged into her home like a pervert or something, but I think when I started talking about how it can hear my thoughts like a regular camera can record voices, she realised that this was something else.

My mum pretended that I'd made it up and was lying for attention, even though she knew I wasn't. She knew that her husband had been terrorising me with these fake omnipotent cameras for weeks to the point I was losing sleep and dreaming about them. It was just easier for her to paint me as some kind of freakishly and manipulative child. It was really messed up, this woman's daughter was my only friend, I'd be friendless and alone if she decided she didn't want her daughter learning this behaviour from me.

The last time it was brought up to her was by my aunt. I'd had a bonding day out with her that ended in me crying on her couch after dinner. I vented about the cameras and how much pressure they were putting on me. I said I felt scared to be out with anyone, because if my daddy was watching and he heard their thoughts and he didn't like them, he could stop them from ever seeing me again. I knew she didn't like him, and he didn't like her. All he needed was video proof that she thought bad things about him and he'd have the perfect excuse to cut her out of my life. I didn't want that, I loved my aunt dearly.

My mum tried to pull the same "oh she's just making it up for attention" bit, but my aunt knew my step dad, and she knew he was exactly crazy and twisted enough to torture me like that. She believed me over my mother, and after that I never heard about the cameras again.

Over the weeks I wasn't threatened with them, I slowly started to think about them less and less. And by the time I stopped thinking about them entirely, I'd stopped believing in tooth fairies and unicorns and high tech invisible cameras that could hear my thoughts.

I never forgot about them though.

[spooky-scary-scarecrow]

"You have beautiful eyes."

(So, I've been skimming Tumblr and haven't found any goddamn Cooper Howard fics that involve how pretty his damn eyes are. Only a handful of people actually mentioned it - babyghoul still has his luscious eyelashes. So since nobody has written a fic of it, I put it in my hands >:] Enjoy!)

Warnings: Mild nudity, mentions of after-sex, cuddling, complimenting, tooth-rotting fluff, a teeny of lore-building in the first few paragraphs

It was a quiet evening, the both of you laying on an old mattress you had found that was surprisingly intact enough to not have a spring digging into your back. The night was elongated from the actions that happened merely moments ago, labored breath between the both of you still filling your ears.

Turning to face Cooper, your eyes roamed his scarred body. A lean frame with muscle, not too much yet not too little. Just enough to show off how strong he can be. You both met only months ago. It was supposed to be just him killing a bounty for you and you'd pay him in caps and viles. Though after the next few bounties, you grew on him and decided to tag along with his journeys. It was like the longer you were both exposed to each other, the more you fell. Ending up in this situation many times before. Quick, easy, just to relieve stress.

Until now. You took the time to observe him. Observe his scars and muscles and callouses as he laid on his back, arms behind his head as his eyes were closed for the moment. You let your gaze drift up to his face - the normally hardened expression softening.

"I can feel you starin'," he spoke after a moment, making your cheeks flush red as you look away.

"Sorry, I just never seen you so... relaxed," you mumbled sheepishly with a chuckle.

A soft hum left him, his arm wrapping around your shoulder and pulling you in without warning. This was rare, the physical touch. Affectionate. Slowly, you rest your head on his chest, hearing the faint beat of his rotten heart and the rasp of his lungs as he breathed.

A moment passed before you looked back up at him, capturing his gaze with your own. Suddenly, you noticed something you never noticed.

His eyes. You never studied them because of how much movement he made - or there just wasn't any time. You would have thought that his lashes would have been gone along with his other body hair but no. They were still there. Rather thick and long. Framing the hazel orbs of his. Making them stand out.

They seemed almost a rich, deep gold and green at the moment because of the lighting - only the dim flame of the oil lamp on the ground beside the mattress lighting the area.

They were beautiful.

"I never noticed your eyes," you blurted, your gaze lingering on his. You could just see the shift of emotion in them - they were so expressive. More expressive than you expected. It showed he was still a man - still human - even if he did turn into the being he is now.

"Is that a compliment, darlin'?" he mused, raising a hairless brow.

You pondered. Maybe it was. Maybe you should say the things about them that were stuffed in the back of your brain.

"Yes," you answered after a beat. "I'd say more about them if I could put it into words."

He was the one to break the eye-contact, leaning his head back. You didn't speak again, afraid you might have hit a soft spot in the man. But you could see the corners of his lips twitch, his roughened fingertips tracing imaginary shapes on your bicep as he gazed up at the ceiling, through the holes in the roof.

"I never paid attention," you continued with little hesitancy. "Of your eyes, I mean. I always thought all Ghouls had fully black eyes."

A grunt in response. You can take that. The silence fell between the both of you once more. With a heavy exhale, he pulled you closer until your body pressed firmly into his side. A subtle gesture. A silent thank you.

Maybe you should pay attention to him more often.

Thank you for reading! Give me a message if you want to request any prompts for our cowboy ghoul here :D

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Eddie skims the books on the shelf in front of him, there was no use in trying to find one he was actually interested in. He was just going to end up forgetting about it and picking up one of the lord of the rings books again. Instead he just lets himself wander through his thoughts. Letting his body go in autopilot as his fingers gently brush the spines of dozens of books.

He should be in gym class, but he isn’t. The consequences of skipping were far better than those of actually showing up. The last time he went (over a month ago now) he ended up walking out with a chipped tooth and black eye. And he can’t forget about the bruised ego.

Walking at the end of one aisle, he carefully turns and moves himself into the next. Preparing to loop through said aisle again but nearly jumping out of his skin when he nearly falls over another person. A person who was sitting down, back pressed to the shelf he was walking the corner of.

A croak like noise comes out of the back of his throat as he nearly tumbles face first into carpeting. Stumbling forward a bit and catching balance on the shelf to the left of him. Secretly praying to all that’s holy that he didn’t somehow know the entire shelf over.

“Jesus H Christ.” He spits out, a hand pressed against his chest as he dramatically breathes heavier then normal. Putting on a show for whoever nearly killed him. Turning around to face the culprit he nearly jumps back again startled.

Sitting, pretty pathetically Eddie would say, was a very beat up Steve Harrington. Who looked like a horror book came to life. His eyes, or eye was a bit glossed over and wide as he starts stuttering over his words a bit. Obviously having a moment before Eddie came along and crashed the party.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to trip you up like that.” Steve visibly cringes at his own words, as if he was also aware he seemed pathetic.

“Eh- it’s alright. Not the first time a king has tried taking me out.” He grins, before faltering a bit as he remembers that the other wouldn’t understand his DnD campaign reference.

He begins to walk away, wanting the entire awkward interaction to be over. But he can’t help but be just a bit nosy as his eyes glance down at the book in Steve’s lap. It probably had been open at one point, but it was now closed and Eddie is secretly thankful he can read upside down.

“Head injuries huh?” He points out. “Didn’t take you for a reader King Steve.” He drags the other’s name out a bit longer than he has to as he crosses his arms over his chest and cocking a hip out. He didn’t personally enjoy talking with asshole jocks, but what he did enjoy was knowing some things. He liked having some lore for the people around him.

“I’m not.” Steve snorts as he lifts the book up. “Just trying to do some research, I don’t know if you have eyes or anything but my face is pretty smashed in right now.” He retorts back with a little bit of sass. Eddie notes how his words slur up a bit, like he was drunk. But Eddie could spot a drunk anywhere and Steve Harrington seemed a hundred percent sober.

Furrowing his eyebrows, just a bit concerned he doesn’t let up the banter. Purposely forcing his eye lids open with one hand and jokingly pressing the finger tip against his eye before pulling back. Blinking the tears out of his slightly agitated right eye as he brings two thumbs up and comments, “we are in the clear I, Eddie Munson, let the record show, have eyeballs.” He grins dramatically.

“Want a gold star for that poncho.” Steve snorts, shaking his head a bit obviously amused. His body tensed up a bit as he goes a bit pale for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut with shaky breathes as his fists tighten around the book he was holding.

“Yes I do in fact want a gold star-” Eddie mumbles out gently, face scrunching up a bit more worried now as he moves his crossed arms from off his chest and moves a few steps closer to the other.

“Hey Harrington, you alright? You don’t seem like your typical charming self.” He comments as he hesitates for a moment before he crouches down. Leaving a few inches between the two of them.

Steve gives a weak nod of his head before he adjusting himself. “Yeah- just moves my head too much. Happens sometimes you know?” He chuckles gently.

“Oh thank god, you were looking a little green. Was worried you were about to hulk out on me buddy.” Eddie jokes a little, trying to lighten the mood a bit. Lifting his hand up and running one of his rings against the bottom of his lip before glancing back down at the book.

“Find anything good in there, or are you just holding it for show?” Eddie asks gently, trying to come off a bit more teasing.

Steve snorts again, sounding a bit stressed as he nearly shakes his head no again but stopped ps himself. “No, couldn’t even make it through the first page without wanting to throw up.” He groans as he quickly adds. “Not because I don’t want to read it, it’s just the words won’t sit still and it hurts my eyes which then hurts my head.” He groans as he opens his eyes back up fully and looks down at the book with a little huff.

“Could always get a nerd to do your homework for you,” Eddie jokes, slightly hinting towards Wheeler. “Heard that girlfriend of yours had a decent brain on her, she seems like the type to understand that you’ll need help.” He tilts his head to the side as he looks at the other.

Steve makes a noise that Eddie can’t even place, it sounded like the mixture of a laugh and a snort combined. “Can’t, I’m pretty sure she cheated on me with Byers. Don’t want to feel any more stupid around her.” He mumbles the last sentence out.

Eddie looks a bit surprised, he hadn’t taken Mrs Priss to be a cheater. Though he furrows his eyebrows again in thought. “If you give me a twenty I’ll read that book for you and try answering any questions you have.”

Eddie didn’t want to seem completely like a sweetheart, he had to keep up the image he had going on or else people wouldn’t take him seriously during deals. And he didn’t want to ruin said image to Steve Harrington of all people.

Steve squints his good eye at Eddie suspiciously, “I’ll pay you a hundred if you don’t mention this to anybody else.”

Eddie feels a little bit shitty for doing this but an image had to be kept.

“You’ve got yourself a deal Harrington.” His grin isn’t fully authentic as he takes the book from the other and does a playful salute as he stands up fully and begins to walk away.

[gingerteawrites]

Bad hair days and other mishaps - JJK Headcannons

A/N: I almost had a bad hair day today before TWO important meetings/appointments, and I need comfort lol. So here are some headcannons of my jjk faves and them helping out/playing with reader's hair.

Content: Written with black reader in mind/reader with very curly hair. Nanami, Gojo, Geto, established relationship, fluff.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nanami Kento

One of the things Nanami loved the most about you was how put together you always tried to be. The level of care and attention to details in your styles always elicited a quiet sense of fascination in the man, and your hair was certainly not an exception.

Nanami was nothing if not an astute observer, and through your time together, he learned to pick up on small indicators of your moods. Today, it was a less subtle one than usual; a loud groan coming from the bathroom.

He immediately perks up, leaving the comfort of the window-side armchair where he was thumbing through a book and headed in the direction of the displeased sound.

"Are you alright, darling?" He walks in, pulling his glasses from the bridge of his nose.

Your shoulder droop as you rest a wide toothed comb on the counter, looking down.

"'m okay, Ken," you sigh. "Just a bad hair day,"

His eyes fleet to the top of your head, taking in the messy strands of hair you were attempting to shape into a new style discovered during your nightly Pinterest scroll. He moved closer and brought a comforting hand to your back, his fingers pressing warmth into you.

"Need help?" He offers in a low rumble, and you turn to him, eyes betraying a hint of hesitation. "Only if you're comfortable with it, of course" He adds.

You jut your lips out, immediately feeling bad for the reluctance you felt, however brief. Ever the gentle soul, Kento was entirely trustworthy when it came to taking care of you. Your moment of hesitation had only been because of the unfamiliarity of the suggestion.

"I would appreciate it, yeah," You rest a hand on his chest, and he offers you a smile so soft it makes you want to squish him.

This is how you end up in the living room, sitting on a cushion on the floor, sectioning your hair and providing gentle guidance as Nanami worked through your strands.

"Like this?" "Please let me know if it hurts" "Your hair is so soft". When he's not asking for instructions or somehow praising you, the man works in quiet concentration, strong hands gentle as they massaged the products through your hair and detangled with care.

And while it took way longer than when you did your hair yourself, the session left you feeling thoroughly relaxed, Completely devoid of the earlier frustration that plagued you. And the style ended up looking pretty decent! Nanami's fingers worked magic, no matter where he touched.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gojo Satoru

"Sweetheart are you trying something new with your hair?" Gojo's brows were raised in surprise when he watches you exit the bedroom with your hair in an... interesting style.

"Don't start, Satoru," you groan, irritated beyond belief. You had tried one of those heatless curls methods that were all the rage, but had unfortunately not accounted for your hair texture.

How stupid

You thought you had learned your lesson from the times you almost fried your hair in the name of straightening it as a teen. The wavy look you were aiming for resulted in something more like ringlets, suspended in the air in a ridiculous display of gravity defiance.

"That'll teach me a lesson," you mumble to yourself, headed for your snacks cabinet. Your arms were tired, you were hungry, and irritated. Phenomenal combination.

Noticing your sour mood, Satoru immediately seeks you out, leaning against the counter beside you. "You don't look bad, though," his voice softens, and you throw him a look beyond skeptical. Causing him to hold his hands up defensively in front of him.

"It's not your best either," you sigh, your annoyed expression turning defeated. "But I'm sure we can work this out!" He adds quickly, "Let me take a look at the tutorial."

"I already canceled the appointment I was going to anyway, it's fine," you look down at your phone, the picture of silky waves on the model's hair bright and bold on your screen.

Ignoring your words, his fingers slip through yours and grab your phone before you can even formulate another retort. He hums for a second, concentrating on the picture before announcing boldly.

"I can do this!"

It has been about 30 minutes of tentatively pulling, combing and wrapping, your hair looked somehow... worse. You don't even know why you allowed Satoru to try, cackling loudly when the man hesitantly hands you the mirror.

"It's hard, okay? One of the few things I don't have a natural talent for," he sighed dramatically, and another laugh escapes you.

"At least you did not rip my hair off," you say after you are finally able to calm down a bit.

Satoru watches you with a fond smile. At least the frustration had melted away, and you were back to your cheery self. He leans in and kisses your cheek.

"At least you look less like you're about to rip my hair off," he quips and you return the smile.

"Thank you for cheering me up," you place your hand on his cheek, earnest. "But this is the last time I'm letting you do this."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Geto Suguru

Suguru had decided today was a spa-at-home kind of day. Your week had been deeply tormenting, and you welcomed the initiative with wide open arms. Your shared home was bathed in the soothing scents he had laid out, and you were wrapped in a cozy bathrobe, enjoying the back massage that his nimble fingers pressed into your skin.

His hands leave your skin and you are tempted to protest, looking up from the bed with a frown at the smiling man.

"Now your hair," he announces, leaning down so his face is closer to yours. You sit up, readjusting the robe around your shoulders with a small frown.

"Um, I don't know if that is going to work, baby," you press your lips together. In all honestly, your hair was still in a bit of a disarray from the week's manipulations, and you did not want to overwhelm your lover.

"But you play with my hair all the time," he retorts, now sitting on the bed and holding your hands.

"Your hair is a lot more manageable for me, Sugu," you chuckle, absently bringing a hand to push away a strand of his ebony locks from his face.

"It's fine, love, really," he emphasizes, bringing one of your hands to his lips. "I looked up a few of those hair ASMR videos for your hair texture, I promise I'll be gentle."

Long story short, you are easily persuaded to let Geto give you a scalp massage. He whips out Castor oil and cocoa butter from your stash, applying it to your hair with an expertise that almost shocks you.

"I love how your products smell," he comments while applying the honey-scented leave-in through your stands.

You hum absently, on the verge of sleep. Not a single muscle in your body is left holding any sort of tension.

He helps you up, giving you a quick kiss before handing you a mirror, and you almost gasp at how shiny and moisturized your curls look. Suguru's smile is almost smug when you turn your head from side to side to admire his work.

"Like it?" he asks, standing to stretch.

"More than like!" You finally placed the mirror down. "You shouldn't have done this. Now you'll have to be my personal hairstylist forever." The seriousness of your tone pulled a laugh out of him.

"Anytime, baby."

This was so much fun to write, I hope you enjoyed it!

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated (❁´◡`❁)

[hanfourz]

hi pookies !! ^__^ in honor of halloween (my fav holiday) i just wanna leave here some thoughts bc i'm feeling silly;

sitting on sungho's lap while doing his makeup for your matching halloween costumes, which probably takes way longer than it should bc y'all end up making out <3

holiday baking with riwoo (we all know he has a huge sweet tooth) where y'all lick the icing off each others bodies :3

going trick or treating with myungjae where y'all share the candy (indirect kissing :p), specifically a lollipop (myungjae oral fixation agenda mhm) just to rile him up

taesan fucking you with a ghost face mask on (i just know he's freaky and would do anything you ask him to) 🤞🏻

acting bratty at a halloween party with leehan (brat tamer leehan just makes sense) so he can put you in your place later <3

OKIE enough for today mwahaha have a nice day <3

— 🐈‍⬛

🪼 - CAT ANON WE FAWKING LOVE YOU!!!!! halloween is also my fav holiday and i was so sad i didn't have smth to post for it but we decided to just use these to make a little holiday smut drabble series... we're definitely making smth separate for sungho and taesan... this is so insane

i cannot stop thinking abt ghostface!taesan... i imagine when u first bring it up he's a little apprehensive bc he doesn't get why you want him to do it so bad. but once he sees the way your eyes go wide and you squeeze your thighs together when he walks in the room with the mask on, he starts to get it. he relishes in the way your jaw hangs slack and you can't take your eyes off him. he takes his time teasing you and working you up, when you beg he tilts his head and laughs but doesn't give you what you want. when you try to touch him, he pins your hands down and says nothing but you already know that means you better keep your hands there or you're not cumming. and the fact that he doesn't say a word through the whole thing makes the experience even better. even when he's inside you, fucking you within a inch of your life, he only lets out quiet sounds so you both can hear the lewd sounds you're making around him. (full drabble is in the works as we speak)

AND DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON BRAT!TAMER LEEHAN!!!!! ALSKNFLANFFAL

[denv2]

Felix the Cat characters! (recent comics focus)

Felix, Kitty, Inky, Winky, Xilef, and even Alex, who isn't in the comic, lol.

I had a lot of fun drawing them! I love cartoon déforme.

It has a lot of my favorite feelings... I don't know if you can feel it ^~^

Below is a chat about each drawing!

Felix, Xilef, and Alex have legs that look a little too long... When I drew the leg bending pose, I drew it so that it stretched out coolly, so it looks longer ㅋㅋ

The facial expressions are all customized to my taste! Did I mention I love the half-moon eyes? It's literally my taste 😋

I actually like Kitty's cat lady-style eyes with the slightly lowered eyelids that make her look a bit sassy, but I also like her normal wide-eyed default eyes that give her a sweet expression! I also like to draw a sweet Kitty, so this time I focused more on the adorable side of her.

I drew Xilef because I wanted to draw both the hooded version and the unmasked version! Honestly, it would be a shame to only draw the hood, right?

I'm actually not a huge fan of Xilef (although I do have a moderate crush on him for being a Felix franchise character), but I think I figured out some of the differences between him and Alex while drawing him this time. They're definitely different characters, even if they have similarities! There are similarities in their speech patterns and attitudes, but Xilef is different in that he's a multiverse parallel to Felix, and Alex is a bit different in that he's a contrasting doppelganger role of Felix... I know I'm stating the obvious. But I can really feel the difference in those features.

There is also a little something to be said about the poses of the three characters.

I drew Felix first, then Xilef, and finally Alex, so the poses for Xilef and Alex were based on Felix. They all have one leg bent, which is a common pose!

However, the difference is that xilef's contrast with Felix is left to right, and Alex's is up and down! Then there's the difference in their symbol items! Felix's open magic bag and Alex's closed unknown magic bag. Xilef is holding a magic cane!

I also wanted to make sure there was a difference between Felix the black cat and the two white cats in contrast. xilef definitely captures a lot of the feel of how I draw Felix, because he's the multiverse villain Felix! So his face is very similar to the Felix I drew this time, with a definite half-moon eye.

Alex doesn't look like that. In fact, I tried to draw a sharp eye with no eyelid expression on top of it, but it didn't feel like what I wanted. The Alex in me was more of a round eye with the eyelid kind of drooping down, so the eyelid expression went in!

And then there's something about the mouth! Felix's cool smile is contrasted by Xilef's mouth, which is more of a grimace than a smile. And Alex has the same smirk, but with a funny gap-toothed grin.

I said the direction of the pose at the beginning, so I'll move on! Personally, I wanted them both to contrast with Felix in different ways lol.

As a side note, I put 3 figures in a row this time and I like how xilef is pointing cane towards Felix because it's exquisite!

Actually, if I put Alex on top of Felix, it would show the top to bottom ratio of Felix and Alex, but I think Felix should be the first one 😚

I think I've said all I need to say, but I'd be remiss if I didn't mention Inky Winky. I actually didn't distinguish between the two, I just drew them together and thought about who I was going to choose right before I put the initials on the hat at the end!

But then I realized that Winky has a bit more of a goofy vibe to him? And Winky is Red... Is there a rule that Red is more of a troublemaker?

But actually, it's not really a one-sided relationship, it's a two-way street, so they don't really fall under that rule lol. They're cute little guys, and I've enjoyed watching episodes of their classic black and white cartoons!

Okay, that's really all I have to say, I can't think of anything else lol.

I'm going to draw a comic with the three of them later, Felix, Xilef and Alex, so maybe there'll be more of them. I'm kinda obsessed with these three similar cats haha

[anatomic-girl]

Symphony

“Hey Az,” Nina said, pulling him from his thoughts. “Did your solicitor friend say how long you and Crowley needed to stay married to pull off this caper?”

There was an immediate unpleasant buzz in his belly, and he unconsciously rubbed one wrist along the hem of his waistcoat. “We haven’t asked, but I assume it needs to be a fairly long time. A few years, perhaps? He and I have yet to discuss that. I wouldn’t want to tie him to me for any longer than necessary…”

“Oh, I don’t think he’ll mind,” Nina said with a wry smile.

Probably not, the man was such a kind soul, but Aziraphale couldn’t in good conscience force their marriage to go on for too long, no matter how comfortable it made him feel. Crowley deserved to have his years of quiet and then to find someone to love. It would be entirely selfish to keep him longer than necessary.

To that end, Aziraphale brought the subject up that evening when Crowley came by the flat for dinner. He’d put it off before, but that was also selfish, so he forced the words out. “How long do you think we need to stay married?”

Crowley startled, probably because Aziraphale had spoken too loudly in his nervousness, and made a few consonant-heavy sounds before he managed, “Oh, um, I’m not sure? What were you thinking?”

Forever, he wanted to say, but schooled his tongue. “I think… How does five years sound?” That seemed reasonable, if intolerably short.

The sad-hawk noise again. Aziraphale really needed to figure that one out!

“Or—” he began, intending to cut that “five” down to “three” when Crowley interrupted.

“I think seven might be better.”

**** Chapter 11 (Symphony) of Dead Right is out! It’s time to make wedding arrangements. Ring shopping, anyone?

Fic notes: Angst-free, complete tooth-rotting fluff, fake marriage, pining-while-married AU, rated E (but all spicy sections will be skippable).

Thank you to my wonderful betas @beerok23 and @unicornbeck, as well as to all you lovely people who give me no end of support! 💕

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

There Are Bridges You Cross You Didn’t Know You Crossed until You’ve Crossed

Ch3 of Don’t Leave Me 'Til My Sorry Life Has Ceased Prompts: Necessary, Monster The time has come to do the spell to kill Domina Profundis, and it's Callum's last chance to put everything as right as he can.

The trip to the mainland was unceremonious. They pulled on dark cloaks to shield from the raging weather and to avoid recognition, trekking through muggy swamplands to a hut made of rotting wood, a house that the witches from the fairytales always lived in.

Its occupant was, in fact, not a witch, but a dark mage, which were basically the same thing anyhow. His face was more marred than Callum’s now, buzzed black hair shot through nearly entirely with white, and a clouded-over eye that still seemed to see him, only ten times more creepy. Callum didn’t care for his name, because a name meant he was a human, too, and he was better than so few these days.

“Finally getting your revenge, eh?” the man chuckled as he rummaged through his cabinets.

“Tastes even sweeter after all this time,” Finnegrin replied. “I knew you’d hold onto it.”

“Knew what you’d do to me if I didn’t,” the man snorted, and he shrugged.

“I won’t deny that.”

He finally procured the unicorn horn, and Callum stepped back, breath catching in his throat. It gleamed silvery-white, the color of Rayla’s hair in the candlelight, spiraled and twisting much longer and much pointier than he’d envisioned. The end, the stump where it had been sawed off, Callum realized, stomach churning, was still stained with blood. Dark and crimson, smelling of mud after a long day and faded floral perfume instead of the usual vomit-inducing metallic scent.

Finnegrin clapped his shoulder. “He can carry it. Wrap it up real nice, won’t you?”

“Only the best.”

The artifact was delicately wrapped in a red cloth, handed to him with care. Briefly, Callum considered dropping it and hoping it would shatter into a million unusable pieces, but under Finnegrin’s stern gaze… He’d know it was on purpose, and Rayla…

He could do nothing but accept it, marveling at the priceless relic in his hands. Surprisingly heavy, was all he could manage to observe through his heartbeat in his ears. This was real. He was really going to just… repeat history, and roll the dice and hope they’d finally get to go free? Surely that couldn’t be the only option. There was always some creative solution.

And then they were being escorted out, the man likely unfathomably relieved to be rid of them, Callum thought with envy burning at his ears, and back into the raging storm outside.

“We should get out to her hunting grounds by sunset in two days,” the elf informed him, strolling leisurely with his hands in his pockets. “You’ll do it then and there.”

“Fine.”

“What, no sassy comment? Come now, they’re amusing.”

“Nope.” He looked downward, to his soaked boots, tears pricking at his eyes. Where was the Callum who would have fought this tooth and nail the way Rayla was? Why was he utterly defeated ?

He tsk ed, practically begging to be clocked square in the face again. But he was only mercifully silent for a moment before he began whistling a jaunty sailor’s tune, the legend of that missing sailor Callum recalled hearing on Katolian piers when he was young, flipping that blasted coin with his thumb.

AO3!

[blorbo-from-the-cosmos]

Hello Everyone!

* . . *. . . *. . . *. * . * 🌙 . *. . * .

I decided to compile a list of some of my favorite manifestations that I’ve gotten since I was last regularly active on this account. Feel free to send asks if you’d like me to elaborate on any of them, as I won’t be doing too much of that here :)

* . . *. . . *. . . *. * . * 🌙 . *. . * .

I. PHYSICAL

Clear Skin

A no brainer, I feel, in the manifesting community. I was one of those kids growing up who got acne before anyone else, it was persistent all throughout my adolescence and into adulthood. One day I just got sick of all the burning, itching, dryness, oiliness, and overall feeling of how much I hated my own appearance. So, I gave up. I literally decided I did not care and if my skin was meant to clear up it simply would and I left it at that a few years ago.

Cue to now, I constantly get compliments on how smooth and radiant my skin is. People always comment on how it looks bouncy and natural dewy. Go figure

Tattoos

I’d always wanted tattoos but was scared to go alone and intimidated by the prices. I remember adding a few tattoos I was inspired by into my yearly manifesting Pinterest board (I can elaborate on this later if you would like) and sort of forgetting about it. Since then, I’ve had 3 opportunities with different friends and artists for cheap yet lovely flash tattoos. I’m currently working on a more detailed piece and simply waiting to manifest an artist closer to my house to do the job :)

Straight Teeth

A work in progress. I had a very unfortunate snaggle tooth and essentially zigzagging lower teeth as a child, went through the fun of traditional braces, and at the end of it my teeth never got 100% fully straight when they removed them. My retainer stopped fitting shortly after, and my teeth went back to a (thankfully not as bad but) similar state. I’d always been self conscious of my smile and it got to the point where I’d avoid opening my mouth at all for irrational fear of judgment. I was too old to be on my parents insurance and did not have the funds to pay treatment as an adult.

Lo and behold, through my job I was able to get name brand Invisalign for a fraction of the cash price and my smile (again, while still a work in progress) has never been better. Apart from the physical change through the aligners, Ive also manifested them to be whiter and healthier when they definitely weren’t before.

Tweaking Facial Features

I’m gonna just put them in one category, but I essentially tweaked my eyebrows, lashes, eyes, lips, and nose. Nothing super dramatic, sorry to disappoint, but I always thought they fit my face just not in the size they came in if that makes sense? I realized recently that my eyebrows are incredibly sleek and well maintained for someone who doesn’t take care of them more than plucking them every few weeks. My lashes (when curled) are way longer than they’ve ever been, my nose is the slightest bit smaller and therefore more complimentary to my face, and my lips are poutier and nicer than before (they’re always hydrated and plump). I also noticed my face chiseled out a bit, as someone who has always had a rounded baby face, but that could’ve also just been long overdue for my age haha

Nicer Hands & Less Body Hair

Little about me, I’m Hispanic. So, my genetics lovingly gave me an abundance of thick and dark body hair all across the way. I’m not here to tell you being hairless is better than not because it genuinely should be up to you personally, but for ME it is a sensory issue having body hair (I hate the way it feels rubbing against clothes or catching in things ugh). Tmi but even my hands were quite hairy, with my arm hair thinning yet continuing to about halfway up the back of my hand.

Soon enough, using the same “fine I give up” mentality, I noticed that (while still hairy lol) my hair doesn’t grow in as thick not as much as it used to. I literally looked at my legs the other day and realized it’s been probably over a month since I’ve shaved them but the hair grew in all sparse which is super unusual. Same with my hands, my fingers no longer look knobby and and scrawny like they used to, but they are quite elegant and I’ve actually received recent compliments on them which made me have that realization.

Ideal Hair

This one isn’t too dramatic as I’ve always been blessed with thick and healthy hair, but more so the fact that I dyed and cut it myself at home quite frequently and yet no matter what I do to it it remains as healthy and thick as ever. I alone made the attempt to go nearly platinum blonde at home, meaning I was using volume 30(?) developer by myself with zero experience on actually bleaching my hair (I dyed it often but always got the bleaching done at a salon). I think I did a total of 3 sessions within a two week time span where I left the bleach on about an hour per session and not only did it come out unscathed, people regularly ask me what salon I had it done at because they apparently can’t tell it was an at home job lol

II. Material

this one will be a fast round !

iPad Pro & newer iPhone with 513GB for a fraction of the retail price

Brand new gaming PC & ideal gaming setup

Brand new Docs

Ideal jewelry

Ideal closet staples & ideal shoes

A new car, partially gifted

Collection of amazing perfumes, all gifted

A diploma I definitely didn’t deserve because I should have failed it tbh lol

Fairy lights for my room, gifted

My perfect shades of makeup staples, all gifted 🫶🏼

Art supplies & kits, mostly gifted

A book I’d been dying to read, gifted

A random $2 pay raise I didn’t even ask for & that wasn’t due within that time frame (but am definitely not complaining about lol)

III. Miscellaneous

another fast round because I have to be somewhere and also my brain is blanking listing these out haha

The light is always green for me or about to turn green, this one never fails me and my friends/family all think I’m just really lucky 🍀

Even when I just rolled out of bed, I look amazing and even my panic lazy outfits look great

People are intimidated yet awed by me, I get a lot of people surprised when I’m nice to them and get told I always look busy and they don’t want to disturb my peace when in reality I just didn’t wanna talk to anyone haha. This one is important as someone who’s always had a “cutesy” demeanor who really dislikes social interactions

I always smell good, has saved me when I run out of the house and realize in a panic I didn’t use enough deodorant lmao. It sounds like a joke but I swear Ive even had people who I know to be brutally honest smell me and I’ve never been told I smell bad

Going to concerts, raves, and clubs (again, I was always socially awkward and didn’t have friends who were willing to do these things with me). On that note…

… a new friend group! I love my childhood friends but we are all a bunch of hermits and I really went through an era where I wanted to have fun and enjoy my 20’s, hence this new group of the loveliest and craziest people I absolutely love 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

Trips to NYC & San Diego. Before I discovered manifesting I rarely ever left my city, let alone the state. The trips were everything I could’ve hoped for and I’m currently manifesting about 3 more this year!

Passing grades in classes I definitely didn’t earn them in 😬

Money, specifically money Ive saved. I’m not sharing the quantity just for personal safety reasons, but I will say I probably have more money saved alone than all my friends do combined

* . . *. . . *. . . *. * . * 🌙 . *. . * .

So, there’s that! I’m actively manifesting many other things as well, specifically a new high paying job, my dream apartment in Seattle, and a significant other as I’m finally in a place where I feel ready for a relationship 🫶🏼 mark my words I’ll have a success post about these soon >:)

Let me know if you guys have any questions, and comment below your favorite manifestations so we can all inspire each other! -love, Blorbo

[memphisnovels]

Evermore

Chapter 19. Mine all mine

Previous chapter

Masterlist

This chapter is a little longer than the others but I promise time flies when you're having fun and I had a bucket load of fun writing this! I hope you enjoy and thank you so much for reading<3

pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, Pietro and Nadia being Pietro and Nadia, defining the relationship (FINALLY)

I cringed as I watched Pietro cram a forkful of eggs and bacon into his mouth before taking a large bite of his toast. “What?” He spoke as he chewed. I grimaced and looked down at my own plate.

“You are truly vile.”

He grinned. “You like it. Besides, I’m a growing boy I need my nutrients.” He gulped down his juice before continuing to scoff his breakfast. He pointed at my plate with his fork. “Are you going to eat that?”

I pulled the plate toward myself, narrowing my eyes at him. “Yes.” Although, my stomach was filled to the brim and another mouthful would surely make me sick. The wounded expression on his face had me rolling my eyes at him, yet I slid the plate across the table nonetheless.  

“Hey, I have a question.” I sighed exasperatedly at his words, but he chose to ignore my antics. “Why do you like the city so much?”

I shrugged, considering his question. “I don’t know. I guess it’s just the first place where I felt really free.” It was nonchalant, the way I spoke to him then. It struck me as a little funny how easily that came from me now when not that long ago the thought of exchanging more than a few necessary words with him had me running for the hills.

He nodded, evidently pondering my words. “That makes sense, I guess I just don’t really have somewhere like that. Sokovia is where my parents died and there was always so much conflict there, then there was Strucker and his compound. When Wanda and I joined the Avengers, we came straight here and I suppose this place is that for me, but I never really saw a lot of the city.”

I swallowed heavily, looking down at my mostly empty plate. “It’s really not that good, it smells strange, and most people hate the light pollution.”

“You don’t have to feel bad for me.” He spoke up, putting an end to my rambling.

“I don’t.”

He smiled at me. “Okay.”

I could feel his eyes on me from my peripheral, but I refused to glance at him, the stubborn pride that lived within me begging me to continue the charade of indifference. Yet Pietro was a worthy opponent, never seeming willing to let me get away with it, completely unfazed by my tricks. Finally, my eyes met his, reluctantly. His smile only grew. “What?”

“Nothing.”

The awareness I had of my heart then annoyed me. “I don’t feel bad for you.”

“You said that.”

That damn smile, constantly lingering, a little cheeky, and always charming. “Good, then you know.” He hummed, leaning back in his seat after clearing both our plates. “I don’t know why you are looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“You know what.”

He shook his head, smile never even faltering. “I don’t think I do, Nadia.”

“Oh, for fucks sake! I don’t like that you don’t have a place, and I don’t like that those things happened to you. Alright, happy now?!”

“You don’t like that what things happened to me?”

“Jesus, do I have to spell it out for you?” He nodded eagerly. “I don’t like that bad things happened to you.”

There was silence between us for a long while then. I looked at my lap, my cheeks burned. My heartbeat filled was ears, thrumming against my sternum. I had to admit, telling him the truth got a little easier each time I did it but that didn’t make it completely painless. “For what it's worth… I don’t like that bad things happened to you either.”

My eyes met his again and just like that, his smile was back. Try as I might to fight it the corners of my mouth tugged upward in kind.

…

His flesh glistened under the low lights as he pulled his shirt over his head, using it to wipe the sweat from his forehead. I swallowed heavily, drinking a little faster from my bottle. Returning to the mat with him, I gestured for him to approach. The corners of his lips were upturned as he looked me up and down, taking a few steps further onto the mat.

“Go on then, Prinţesă, what’s your next move?”

I smiled at him. “Funny I was going to ask you the same question.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “How about you lead for once, Pietro.” His smile turned menacing, and he took another slow step toward me.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He moved quickly, just the way I’d taught him, striking with precision. I dodged easily, almost laughing in his face at his predictability until he swerved at the last minute and moved the opposite way he had been, dodging my impending attack and grabbing around my waist and taking me to the ground on my back. He took my wrists in each of his hands restraining them above my head with a shit-eating grin wide across his face. I narrowed my eyes at him. “So, you are capable of strategizing?”

Pietro chuckled, low and utterly taunting. “You have an awful lot of attitude for someone who’s on their back.” I shot him a venomous glare.

“Oh, don’t worry it won’t be that way for long.”

My words only seemed to both entertain and entice him as his grin grew in size, revealing his teeth to me. The look faltered for a moment as he glanced down toward my hip. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” One of his hands drifted down my arm to sit beside my hip on the mat, fiddling with the side of my shirt.

I shook my head at him. “I’m fine. Dr. Cho used her weird magic medicine and it’s almost completely healed. She said she doesn’t even think it’s going to scar.” When he still seemed unconvinced, I brought my now freed hand down to lift the side of my shirt and reveal the now only slightly marred flesh. “See all better.” Still, he scanned the place where the wound had been. With some hesitation, I let my hand find his cheek, bringing his face back up so he'd meet my eyes again. “You didn’t hurt me, I promise.”

His nose grazed mine as he leaned forward slightly, his breath dancing across my cheek making my eyes flutter for a moment. My lips upturned just slightly as I leaned upward into him, grazing my lips over his for a split second before locking my legs around him and using my free hand to cross his chest and flip us so he was on his back. Before he could regain the upper hand, I moved my legs to restrain him and held his wrists above his head just like he’d done to me. His look of indignation had me biting back a laugh. “That was completely unfair!”

“How many times have I told you to focus?”

He raised both eyebrows at me, I knew him well enough to know the look he was giving me meant trouble. “Well, that’s a lot to ask of me right now, you know how I feel about you in this position, Prinţesă.” I rolled my eyes at him, leaning down and letting my eyes drop to his lips ever so slowly. He strained his neck to reach me, but I pulled back just a little when he got close. “Really?”

“You’re not getting what you want until you show me you can stay focused.”

“Oh, as if you weren’t just undressing me with your eyes!”

My gaze narrowed at his words, and I scoffed at him. “Are you actually delusional?”

He smirked. “We both know I’m not. You say I don’t know how to focus but when it comes to you, I seem to manage just fine.” He licked his lips, I scolded myself for letting my eyes track the movement. His lips twitched upward, and he bucked me off of him before enveloping me in a blur of blue. “Looks like I’m not the only one struggling to focus on the task at hand.”

“You’re a prick, you know that?”

“You tell me quite often, but I have a sneaky suspicion that you like it. That’s why I best you so often.”

The gasp I let out was equal parts disbelief and indignation. “Now I’m sure of it, you really have lost your mind. In what world do you ever beat me?”

He only smiled at me. “I got you to admit you were obsessed with me.” I opened my mouth to protest, with some choice words however he beat me to it. “In fact, I have a wager for you, call it a friendly competition.”

“Pray tell?”

“I’m not going to kiss you again until you admit that I distract you just as much as you distract me. You admit that I’m not delusional and these lips are all yours.”

A hearty laugh tumbled from me. “You’re challenging me to a test of self-control? You do realize who you’re talking to right?” He grinned down at me. “What do I get when I win?”

“My undying affections?” I raised a single eyebrow at him. “Fine, I’ll admit that you were right.”

“You’re never going to win this.” He shrugged, toothy grin never faltering. I sighed exasperatedly. “Deal.”

His lips were on mine then, it was passionate and had my body melting into a puddle of mush. The way he kissed was hard to describe at the best of times, it was fervent, borderline sacred, and hungry in equal measure. I was left breathless when he pulled back, hovering barely an inch from me. My eyes remained closed. “See I’m already winning, Nadia, look at you, letting me distract you so easily.” My eyes shot open, a glare immediately taking over my expression. My ire only amused him further. He bumped his nose with mine. “I hope you enjoyed that because there won’t be any more for a while, not until you give in, at least.” He held my wrists in one hand, his other moved over my hip. I winced hard, shutting my eyes tightly as I released a cry of agony. He let go of my hip instantly, freeing my hands and sitting up in one swift movement. “Are you okay? What happened?” I flipped up before he could even contemplate what was happening, forcing him onto the mat on his stomach and sitting on his back this time around.

I put a hand by his head, leaning down to look into his beautiful blue eyes, his face squished into the mat. “Remind me who is winning again?” I raised my eyebrow, a grin spreading across my lips.

“You deceitful minx!”

In all honesty, I’d expected Pietro to break before dinnertime, yet surprisingly he had remained steadfast in his endeavor. He’d sat across from me at dinner, sending me cheeky glances from across the table but showing no sign of giving in or even struggling.

This pattern continued for days, four to be specific, and I was becoming antsy. How the hell was he so calm and collected? It’s Pietro for god’s sake, there is no way he could pull this off; was there?

I was becoming less sure as the days passed and my anger was growing insurmountable as I felt the magnetism between us begin to itch.

On the fifth night, I sat beside Natasha at the table, humming around a bite of pizza that was especially cheesy and delicious. I watched Pietro’s jaw tense at the sound, prompting me to do it again. He met my gaze, his eyes narrowed but an unreadable expression sat across his face. Wanda was off somewhere with Vision and Sam was sleeping off his last mission. It was only Steve, Pietro, Natasha, and I at the table now. Cap spoke casually to Pietro about something whilst Nat described the dress, she was planning on wearing for the benefit we were invited to that would take place in a couple of weeks.

“I think the plunging neckline is important, color wise I’m thinking classic black is the only choice and…” I licked my lips slowly using a single finger to wipe over the area before bringing it to my mouth, all whilst looking directly at Pietro. “Are you even listening to me?” Natasha asked. Pietro stood from the table abruptly, going to place his plate on the sink and leaving the room. I smiled to myself.

“Yes of course. Black dress, plunging neckline.” I shoved the rest of my pizza slice in my mouth and smiled at her.

Natasha raised her eyebrows at me. “What are you planning on wearing, Pimenova?”

I shrugged. “Well for starters I wasn’t planning on going.”

“Okay, great so you will in fact be going. I’ll send you a couple of dress ideas tonight and you can always have a better look this weekend.”

Cap cleared his plate before wishing us both goodnights. We returned it and I asked Natasha what she was talking about.

“Oh, you know, this weekend on your date weekend with Pietro.”

My eyes narrowed at her accusatory tone. “First of all, how did you even know about that, second it is not a ‘date’ weekend.”

She smirked at me. “I saw your little list of spots on the table this morning. No need to be so defensive I think it's sweet what you’re doing for him, he will too.”

“I’m not doing anything for him… I just feel like… he doesn’t have a place, Natasha. We always had New York and maybe it won’t be the same for him, but he deserves something. An option at the very least.”

The smug expression on her face shifted then, smoothing into something that held much more weight. Something soft and immensely meaningful. Her lips were upturned as she spoke again. “I think he already has more than you realize.”

I wasn’t entirely sure what she meant by that, but I chose not to push, we finished our food in comfortable silence after that.

The soft sound of a Queen song filled my ears as I wandered into the lab with a plate of reheated pizza grasped between my hands. Tony was hunched over the bench with a screwdriver in hand. “You know for someone who said he was going to take some time off you certainly spend a lot of time tinkering around here,” I spoke up, sitting the pizza beside him. He glanced up, raising an eyebrow at me.

“This is me relaxing, kid.”

“How does Pepper feel about that?” He grumbled out an answer, not glancing up at me as he continued to do… whatever it was he was doing. I glanced at the door, considering leaving despite his glum mood, what could I say to him? Would he even want to open up if I asked him to, did I want him to? I’d always maintained a distance between us, never comfortable enough to let too many people get close but as I watched Tony, shoulders tense, ignoring the food, leaving didn’t feel much like an option. So, I sat, facing him on the opposite side of the bench. “Is everything okay?”

“Peachy.”

I swallowed, twiddling my thumbs. “We don’t have to talk but you should probably eat.”

He glanced up at me through his lashes. “What is going on right now? You never want to talk, but now all of a sudden you do.”

“You seem like you could use someone to talk to and I’m trying something new. The easiest way to get me to leave you alone is just to spill, you know I’m not one to give up easily.”

Tony huffed, shaking his head and finally looking up at me. “Pepper wants to talk about things that I don’t. It’s irritating and I just needed some time.” I breathed a laugh at that. “What?”

“It’s just… I know how you feel.”

The corners of his lips upturned so slightly it was almost imperceptible. “Yeah, I guess you probably do.”

“So instead of talking to Pepper about these mysterious things you don’t want to disclose you’re here, hiding out in the lab.”

“Well, when you say it like that it sounds a little pathetic.”

I smiled at him. “More than a little.”

“I don’t think you can exactly talk, Pimenova, you’re not someone I’d describe as being particularly communicative.”

A laugh tumbled from my lips, and I leaned back in my chair; I couldn’t argue there. “Why don’t you want to talk to about whatever it is with her?”

“It’s complicated.”

I glanced around. “Well luckily for you I have nothing but time.”

Tony did nothing to hide his disdain at my words, huffing and puffing like a petulant child. I found it all rather amusing. “I left the comfort of my home to come be around you idiots to avoid talking about it, what makes you think I’m antsy to spill my guts now?”

“Spare me, as if you don’t miss us terribly whenever you leave.” I teased. “And I’m not saying you have to tell me what it is just why it’s you’d rather flee than talk about whatever it is. It’s not as though I’m going to judge you, I wouldn’t exactly have a leg to stand on.”

“You really don’t have a leg to stand on as it is. You don’t answer questions but you’re happy to ask them?”

I closed my eyes for a moment glancing away to survey the room, empty save for the range of strange tech surrounding us. “You wanted to know what Wanda showed me in the shipyard. I didn’t want to talk about it because it was painful, I’m guessing it’s the same for whatever it is that you’re avoiding.” He didn’t look at me. “You’re right though, it isn’t fair for me to expect you to share when I won’t, so consider this my answer. Wanda showed me a medley of some of the worst moments of my life and made me think I was living them all over again. She showed me the Red Room, my first kill then my most painful, and a whole lot of other moments that I’d been trying really hard to forget.”

He met my gaze then. The look he gave me then was not one that was common for him, yet I’d seen it before. That day when we’d first moved to the compound and I’d told him why I didn’t mind light pollution was at the forefront of my mind. Empathy, I supposed.

“Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry; I’m telling you because I do understand that trust is a two-way street.”

He nodded. There was silence between us for a long while then. He’d put the tool in his hand down and he simply studied the piece of pizza that sat beside him, likely cold by now. “There was someone in my life… a long time ago. Someone who meant the world to me. She died, years ago now and the last thing I said to her… Well, it wasn’t exactly kind.” I remained quiet, listening intently to him. “There are not many days when it's not the first thing on my mind when I wake up and the last thing before I go to sleep.” He took a rather large bite from the slice of pizza. I guessed he was referring to his mother, I remembered hearing something about his parents dying years ago after they’d had a fight. Irrespective of what his reasoning was, I knew what it was like to have something you’d done, something you regretted, haunt you. “You know, if you’d been gone much longer, I wouldn’t have made it through here. Pietro nearly sent me insane.”

He was evidently shifting the topic, but I let him. “What do you mean?”

“Kid was practically going out of his mind with worry from the second you left and then you went off comms and obviously we were all concerned but he pretty much had to be restrained from going to Morrocco after you, barely healed leg and all. Honestly, he was insufferable.” I looked at the ground, smiling a little at that information. “It was actually a little sweet also, I guess. Sickening, but almost cute.”

Before I left Tony to finish his tinkering, I glanced back at him from the doorway. “Take it from me, Stark, avoiding talking about something because it’s painful doesn’t actually make it hurt any less.”

…

The rain that had followed us for most of the trip from the compound cleared up as we entered the city.  Pietro hadn’t said a lot since I’d told him, he’d just stared at me in a way that made me exceptionally nervous. Even on the car ride, he’d spoken a few soft words here and there but otherwise he’d been mostly quiet. The second we stowed our luggage away in our adjoined rooms I’d smiled warmly at him and waved the list at him. “Well come on, we’d better get moving I’ve got a lot planned.” The smile he gave me made a tingling feeling dance across my spine.

Our first stop was the bakery near my old apartment, they had the best bagels in the city, the perfect cream cheese to bread ratio. We walked through the crowded streets and basked in the sunshine while we ate the warm delicacy. “I’ll admit it’s a lot better than I’d expected.”

“I told you.” He bumped his shoulder with mine as we walked. I led him toward the huge building having him stand across the street with his back to it. “Okay, now turn around and prepare to be just a little underwhelmed.” His eyes widened as he turned to face the MET in all its glory.

“Jesus, that’s big.”

I walked past him, beginning up the steps. “I know right and look how fucking dirty it is as if those rich girls were sitting on these steps to eat their lunch.” When I realized he wasn’t following, I turned back to see him watching me. “Don’t you want to go in?”

“No, I do, it’s just…” His lips turned upward, and his brows furrowed a little, it was as if his face was melting. The sun made his eyes glitter, making them even more mesmerizing than usual. He shook his head softly before meeting me on the stairs I’d stopped on, looking down at me for a moment. His chest almost grazed mine he was so close. “After you, dragă.” Darling.

“What does that mean?”

He leaned in close to me, his breath fanning over my lips, it had my eyes fluttering. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” With that he was off toward the entrance, leaving me dazed and utterly fed up with his stupid wager. We looked at art for a lot of the day, before taking back to the streets where we got a New York slice and spoke for hours.

“It’s strange because growing up, I didn’t really know who I was, or I guess there really wasn’t a me that existed outside of the Red Room. Being out meant having to become a person just like everyone else. I didn’t even know my favorite color before I got out, I was just a nonentity.”

“What’s your favorite color now?”

I shrugged, looking over at him. We’d stopped in Central Park a little while ago, laying back on the grass to watch as the sun set over the city and casted the streets in a pinkish orange hue. I smiled at how it looked at this time of day, everything the light had touched, transformed by the dwindling sun. “I think it’s this.” When I met his eyes again, they were set firmly on me.

“What is your favorite color, Pietro?”

A cheeky smile crossed his lips. “Blue.”

“Favorite food?”

“Plum dumplings.”

I had to bite my lip to stop the smile from taking over my expression. Rolling my eyes and hoping he couldn’t see the flush that has coated my cheeks. We continued like this, asking silly mostly inconsequential questions to each other, and there, on that patch of grass, there was a rare moment where I was completely at ease. I could feel his eyes on me then as I watched the birds hopping from branch to branch. A tilt of my head revealed him fully to me once more, still gazing at me intently, not even attempting to pretend that he wasn’t, unashamed at being caught. His lips were upturned, not a full smile, merely the suggestion of one. My smile brightened slightly as I stared back at him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He didn’t answer right away, just kept watching me, eyes tracing over the flesh of my cheeks and nose. “No one has ever done something like this for me before.”

I smiled softly at him. “What no one’s ever taken you to a smog-covered, rat-run city to eat a bready doughnut thing with cheese in it?”

He chuckled light-heartedly before becoming earnest once more. “Seriously, Nadia, this means a lot to me.” He kept his voice a little hushed, loud enough only for me to hear as if the words shared in the small space between us were sacred, something that was reserved solely for us.

“Natasha and I used to talk about New York when we were younger, I suppose it was our dream. This intangible place where everything would be okay.” His knuckles grazed my own. I felt a little silly when my heart picked up, I’ve literally killed people how could the slightest touch from him have my pulse fluttering? Holding my breath for a moment I extended my fingers slightly, bumping his. He had touched my hand before, but this felt different. We both turned back toward the sky as I let my hand upturn beside his. A warm weight filled my palm then and I exhaled the breath I’d been holding.

Nonna Maria’s was next on the list, the obvious dinner choice, really the only acceptable choice. There was a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach as we passed the threshold of the restaurant. I got take-out here my first night in New York, Natasha and I had spent many days gorging ourselves on the freshly baked bread and delicious pastas and somewhere in all of that I’d found myself becoming strangely attached to this little family-run business. An intangible nervousness took over my as we were seated, perhaps it was just that this place was the first thing that had felt like mine since I left Russia, and now I was sharing it with Pietro. “Nadia, my sweet Nadia!” Maria called as she approached our table. “Please, tell me you’ve come back to the city, my dearest.”

“Just visiting, unfortunately, but I brought you a new person to overfeed.” I teased. Maria tsked and waved her hand at me before turning to Pietro.

She gasped and placed a hand to her heart. “Such a handsome young man, you know I have been praying for this. Praying for my Nadia to find love!”

“Okay, settle down, this is my friend Pietro.” I introduced, intervening before she got any more carried away.

“Oh of course he is.” She gave me a knowing look. “You children with your strange language, I will never understand it. Let me get you some more bread, it fixes everything you know.”

I laughed as she left, sipping on my glass of wine. “Is that what we are, Nadia?” I raised an eyebrow at Pietro’s words. “Friends?” He added, a little smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “It’s just I’m getting the strangest sense of déjà vu.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

He sent me a boyish smile. “Well, friends don’t generally kiss.”

“When was the last time we kissed?” My tone was taunting, challenging him with every syllable. His eyes narrowed slightly, smirk only growing.

“If you want me to kiss you, Nadia, you need only say the magic words.”

The look I gave him was downright devious. “Why’s that? You’re not struggling, are you? Because I’m more than happy to call it a fair game, after you admit I was right of course.”

He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, downing his drink, and leaning forward over the table toward me. His knee brushed against mine. “Oh, I’m doing just fine, Prinţesă.” My eyes darted down for just a moment. “All you have to do is tell me exactly how right I am, and I’ll kiss you anywhere you want.”

A flush travelled up my neck, a shiver not far behind. I was a connoisseur of self-control, adept at keeping myself in check, at not giving in. That was how I was trained, plus my healthy dose of innate stubbornness tended to help. Yet now, in the face of Pietro, I felt myself folding, control crumbling, leash waning. He was in control now and he knew it. That wouldn’t fly with me. I left a sultry smile cross my face as I leaned forward in my seat, flipping my hair over my shoulder and using my arms to accentuate my decolletage. My foot slid across the space between us, situating itself between his feet. I dragged the tip of it up the inside of his leg, watching his hands clench into fists as the muscle in his jaw feathered. When his eyes met mine, they were a much darker shade of blue, a dangerous glint in them. He attempted to grab my foot when it ventured to his thigh, but I yanked it back before he had the chance, standing and slipping my coat back on. My hand fell over his shoulder, and I leaned down so we were at eye level, moving closer until I was sure he would feel my breath on his ear. “Don’t hurt yourself for the sake of making a point, Pietro.”

“I know that you think you’re very clever-” I heard Pietro’s voice call as we stepped outside, frustration palpable in his tone. “But your little seduction routine isn’t going to work on me.”

“Oh? Are you sure?” I took a step toward him. “Because I have the strangest feeling it’s already working?” My eyes trailed down to his hand that was situated over my hip. He yanked it away as if I’d burned him, pointing at me accusingly.

His glare had plenty of heat but no real anger behind it. “I’m not going to give up so easily, you know this right?”

“I spent most of my life training to break people down, you know this right?” I began walking down the street, basking in the nippy autumn air.

“I don’t want to be just your friend. That’s what I told you before you went to Morrocco; I meant it.”

His words stopped me in my tracks and when I turned back to look at him the streetlights and starlight bathed him in this magical way that managed to wipe all the thoughts from my mind. “I know,” I murmured.

“So… maybe we should talk about it.”

“You want to talk about it now?”

He shrugged. “There’s no time like the present.”

I bit my lip, laughing a little to myself. “Do you want to be my boyfriend, Pietro?” I teased.

His response had me stiffening in my spot, heart skipping, eyes fluttering. “Yes, very much so.” There was no amusement or taunting lilts in his words, it was deadpan; absolute. I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water. “Do you want to be my girlfriend, Nadia?”

I’d never had a boyfriend before. There had been boys, they never lasted more than a night where I told myself maybe I’d feel better if I just forced myself to be normal. There had never been mornings that followed. My heart was racing, and I felt a little lightheaded. Pietro stayed put, quiet but steadfast. He didn’t rush me or flee, he laid himself bare before me and waited, patiently, for me to respond. Part of me wanted to roll my eyes, boyfriend, girlfriend, how tedious. Though, really, I knew that was just because if I was dismissive maybe it wouldn’t feel so exposed. “I’m not sure I’d be a very good girlfriend.”

His eyes softened at me. “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

He took a few steps forward, leaving a big enough gap that he wasn’t crowding me, but I could still feel his body heat radiating onto me. “Well, saying yes is a good place to start.”

 “Ask me again.”

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

I smiled at him. “That depends.”

His lips curved up into that familiar smirk. “What does it depend on?”

“Will you kiss me if I’m your girlfriend?”

“How about this, you answer my question first then I’ll answer yours.”

I considered him. I could keep prodding, be stubborn, and have it my way, but then Pietro was standing before me, and the stars were in his eyes as he left the ball roll delicately into my court. He’d challenged me from the start and yet he’d always given me time, slowed down when I told him to, clearly laid my options before me, and let me choose for myself. It terrified me how much I didn’t want to run away from him, from his softness, from his adoring patience. So, despite myself, I didn’t roll my eyes or feign indifference, I gave, ever so slightly.

I took a step toward him. “The answer is yes.”

The words had barely left my lips before he was kissing me breathless. His forehead rested against mine; his eyes still closed. After almost a week of his ridiculous wager, I’d been ready to crack myself, but I didn’t need to tell him that because somehow, he’d known me from the moment we laid eyes on each other.

“You win, Nadia.”

[fizzycherrycola]

Malaysia/Singapore, 1921

On a dark, rainy night, Singapore finds himself in desperate need of a warm meal and a bright smile. Luckily, he has someone who cares for him very much.

Originally intended to be part of a Hetalia fan anthology, however I missed the deadline long ago. You can find it at @hwsrazzledazzle . This is my first time writing Malaysia and Singapore, so I hope I've done them justice. Please enjoy! If anyone notices inconsistencies or cultural mistakes, please let me know and I'll fix them right away.

December Rain 

Singapore; 16 December 1921 

“Governor, is there really no other way? We are in peacetime, so surely-”

“Unfortunately, this is the way it must be. Perhaps if relations between London and Tokyo improve, then these restrictions may be lifted. But from what I understand, it is unlikely that either of us will witness such a thing happen in the near future.” 

“...I see.”

“I know this is all rather irregular, but even so, I trust you will follow these new regulations once they come into effect. Won’t you, Singapore?”

“Yes, Governor Guillemard, of course.”

“Good. Very good! I had the sense when we first met that we would get along well. That you were an honourable, hard-working young man – or colony, I should say – and that you would cause no trouble. I’m delighted to see that is still the case.”

—

A torrent of water falls from the heavens in rippling sheets. People dart about, some on bicycle and some on foot. They splash through the wide puddles of the civic district, anxious to be home before the dark night sets in. The lucky ones squeeze onboard the bustling electric tram with their elbows and umbrellas poking through the open windows. Unfortunately, Singapore was not one of those lucky ones today. 

Clasping his cold hands together, Singapore rubs his knuckles. He huddles in the seat of his hired rickshaw, grimacing at his situation. The spats covering his shoes are terribly soggy and the rain has soaked his grey trousers up to the thigh. He leans back in his seat, sheltering beneath the rickshaw’s canopy, hopelessly trying to stay as dry as possible. Normally it wouldn't be an issue, but tonight... Malaya is visiting for dinner. It’s the first date they’ve had in months.  

There is a tightness behind his ribs and Singapore takes a steadying breath. He needs to dispel the stress of the business day and the terrible news he was given.

None of that matters at the moment. Even though his disheartening meeting with the Governor went on for much longer than expected, he should still make it home before Malaya arrives, because that silly oyen is often late himself. And to the rickshaw puller’s credit, they are speeding down the muddy streets. 

Eventually, Singapore’s abode reveals itself wedged amongst a long row of shophouses. The vehicle’s rickety wheels slow to a halt and the rickshaw man glances back expectantly. Quickly, Singapore tosses a few coins his way. Then, he hops out of his seat, over the gate, and dashes through the five-foot way. 

He pushes open the wooden door to his house and pauses, holding his breath. The darkened front hall is quiet and none of the oil lamps appear lit. Thank goodness. Tension floods from his shoulders and he releases a sigh. 

He slips off his shoes and carries them inside, hoping to wipe the leather dry and preserve his valuable Oxfords. His bare feet tap terracotta tiles as he pads through the front office, then the smell of firewood hits him, mingled with the aroma of red chili and garlic. Peeking into the hallway, he sees dim light and steam emanating from the kitchen in the back. 

His hairs stand on end and a second later he’s bursting into the warm room. 

“Why are you here so early?!” Singapore demands. 

Malaya flinches and glances up from the stove. “Oh, you’re here!” A bright smile blooms across his face, putting his crooked fang tooth on full display. “Welcome back!” 

“You’re never early! How did…?”

“Ah? I thought I was late. You said we would meet in the afternoon.”

“No, we said it would be in the evening.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Malaya chuckles. “I thought it was strange when I walked in and nobody was home.” 

“Wait, what are you doing?” 

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m making dinner!” 

“But I was going to....” Singapore’s words fail him as he gawks at his kitchen. The mortar is smudged with trace remains of crimson spices and his stove is lit with the smoky haze of burning charcoal. Malaya tosses peppers into the wok and effortlessly works the sizzling heat like he was born for it. Singapore sighs. “Never mind. Let me take over from here.” 

Malaya laughs incredulously. “But I’m almost finished!”  

“It doesn’t matter. This is your first time in my new home! You’re my guest.” 

Malaya quirks an eyebrow and gestures to Singapore with the backend of his chuan. “Singa, you’re dripping wet. You’ll get rainwater in our food.” 

Baulking, Singapore looks himself over. His suit is darkened and heavy, leaking droplets onto the floor. 

Grimacing, he deflates. “...I’m sorry.”  

“Ah? You don’t need to apologise.” 

“No, I should have arrived earlier. I had plans for our dinner together; I wanted it to be special.” 

Smiling wider, Malaya seems to melt on the spot. “Sayang….”

“I can take over after I’ve changed.”

“No. This is my cooking now.”

“But–” 

“It’s fine. You work too hard!” Malaya steps away from the wok and nudges Singapore out of the room. “Quick! Go change out of those clothes before the food is ready.” 

Reluctantly, Singapore trudges upstairs to his bedroom, glancing back at the kitchen as he goes. 

Once upstairs, he takes a moment to tend to his Oxfords, the higher priority, before his own comfort. When he’s satisfied that the leather is dry enough, he peels off his wet business attire, shivering despite the humidity, and then towels his damp skin. Throwing on something clean, he pauses in front of a small mirror to tame his dark hair before returning downstairs.  

The dining area is bathed in warmth and an array of dishes decorate the table. Dinner is set out before him: tomato rice with ayam masak merah, a mix of chicken and dried chilies sambal. The saucy red soup glistens in the lamplight and Singapore’s belly rumbles. Malaya snickers, placing the finishing touches on the table and telling him to dig in. 

With a flush rising to his cheeks, Singapore thanks his companion and relents. He takes a bite of the chicken, and a burst of rich, creamy, spice hits his tongue. It’s so delicious that he sighs, the flavour bringing back memories of other rainy Decembers, long past. When it was just the two of them, huddled beneath a small, thatched roof.

“Abang, it’s so good,” Singapore says. “Thank you.”

“Anytime!” A wide grin graces Malaya’s face as he produces a gorgeous bottle of tapai rice wine and pours both of them a healthy glass. Then he sits as well, going for his tomato rice, and talking unabashedly between massive mouthfuls of food. “You know, I think your last house was better.” 

Singapore pouts. “Don’t say that, lah. I was hoping you would like it here.” 

“Well, ah… it’s not what I was expecting.”

“I was able to get this because my markets have been paying well. Would you prefer it if I returned to a timber attap house? Go back to my old kampong?”

Malaya sheepishly raises his hands in mock surrender. “No! It’s just very… different?”

“It’s closer to the city centre. And it’s modern.”

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry.” Malaya leans in and gives Singapore a quick kiss on the cheek – an apology. He leaves behind a few sticky grains of rice, and Singapore rolls his eyes before brushing them off. “You worked very hard for this, so I’ll admit, for a city house, it is really spacious and fancy.”

Singapore swallows a few more bites of food while considering his companion’s sentiment.

Indeed, the new dwelling takes some getting used to. Bought last July, Singapore’s abode stands three stories tall and has an elaborate, ornamental façade. Decorated with colourful tiles and plasterwork, it is more stylish than his previous place. If only the floors were worn in, and the rooms smelled of the forest, perhaps then this mass-produced building would feel more like a home. 

It’s no matter, though. He will adjust. As if reading his mind, Malaya pokes his elbow and gestures to the open courtyard. “Plant a garden in the spring; that will help.”

Singapore glances at the bare space and imagines it filled with kang kong, lemongrass, and chili plants. It warms his heart.

“That would be nice.”

Malaya polishes off his rice and sets the bowl down. “So, you meet with Guillemard today?”

“Ah… that’s right.”

“Mm! I’m meeting with him in a few days, too. What did he say?” 

Singapore ducks, suddenly very interested in the wood grain of his table. “I’ll tell you after dinner.”

“Come on, tell me. Is it good news?”

Weight settles on Singapore’s shoulders and bears down on his neck. “No, it’s bad.”

“Now I have to know!”

Singapore sighs. The locks in the back of his mind slowly release, allowing a bitter slurry of unease and gloom to trickle forth. He’s been holding onto this all day and he was never good at hiding things from his dearest.

“You’re not going to like it.”

Malaya downs a swig of rice wine. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

Singapore follows his lead, taking a sip from his own cup and allowing the burn to roll down his throat. He swallows, and means to slam the cup down, but it settles with a skittering series of taps. Is he nervous, or just upset?

“Guillemard said… beginning next week, we cannot have any contact with Taiwan, Korea, or any other kingdoms under Japan’s control.” 

The statement falls wet out of his heart to splatter ruin onto his new, tile floor. Malaya blinks, silent for a while, his eyes going wide.

“No, that can’t be right.” 

“Personal contact lah,” Singapore clarifies. “We can’t send them letters, telegrams, or schedule any visits.”

“Not even letters?”

“None.”

Malaya gapes. “Why would he say that? Did he have a reason?” 

“I couldn’t get all the details.” The morning and afternoon were like a whirlwind. Questions flew around the rooms of the Governor’s estate, from not just himself, but even the groundskeepers who he caught whispering in the halls. “I heard there was a conference,” Singapore continues, “and a treaty was signed. Somehow, this new treaty ended the alliance between England and Japan, but it was more than that. Apparently, there has been tension between them for a long time, maybe years. So, it is possible… perhaps a combination of different things ....” 

“Wait, wait!” Malaya cries, jolting Singapore out of his recollection. “Tahun Baru Cina!”

It takes Singapore a moment to understand. “What about it?”

“Taiwan invited us to celebrate with her. You remember; we were meant to visit her in that city... what are we calling it these days?” 

“Taihoku?” 

“That’s it!” 

“I’m guessing that will be cancelled.” 

Malaya releases a puff of air. “They can’t just cancel the New Year!” He slumps, staring forlornly at his empty rice bowl. He looks like a cat, longing for more food, as though that would be enough to fix all the problems of the world.

“Someone else might host,” Singapore suggests. 

“This is terrible,” Malaya mutters.

Singapore frowns at his wine, cloudy and glistening in the lamplight. He imagines it reflecting a sea of red lanterns as they ripple in the night air, a dream of years past. If he concentrates, he can recall the clamour of jubilant voices, the thrum of drums, and the crackle of firecrackers.

Gathering under one roof to welcome the New Year was a tradition they shared. Who started it and when, Singapore does not know, but every house he visited would be brilliantly decorated in a rainbow of colours, and every table would be packed to the edge with food. Different people would host and attend each year; a variety of familiar faces that came and went. Philippines, Vietnam, Siam, Manchuria, Korea, of course China, and more. Sometimes there were so many of them, there were not enough seats to go around! 

Occasionally, the turnout was smaller due to war, famine, or sickness, but it was always a pity when it happened. It’s still a pity now. Singapore sighs, again. “I’m sorry for ruining the evening with depressing news. This date was meant to be special.” 

Malaya blinks, returning to life, and shushes him. “You know, if you keep stressing out, your hair will turn white.” 

Something in Singapore's face must be betraying his feelings, because Malaya’s smile falls almost as quickly as it appears. He shuffles closer and secures a steady arm around his lover’s shoulders.

“Abang….”

Rain pitter-patters on the courtyard stone. The distant sounds of city life grow quieter as night falls. Is it raining in Taihoku as well? Is there a little girl on the other side of the sea mulling over the same sad news? Poor Taiwan. She’s still just a child; she won’t understand.

A knot has lodged itself in Singapore’s throat. Times like these serve as a potent reminder: it is the spiderwebs of alliances that shape their uncertain destinies. Of course, he is not a revolutionist. Order, harmony, and life are too precious to him. All he must do is keep his head down, work hard, and if he does that, he can get by. But sometimes… sometimes….

Without prompting, Malaya whispers, “I know,” and hugs him, lean muscle cradling Singapore’s thin frame. And Singapore doesn’t realise he is clenching his jaw until Malaya strokes his cheek and it slackens. Heat radiates through his ribs like an antidote. A rattling breath escapes his chest and his eyes fall shut. Their bodies slope together. 

They stay that way for long minutes. The weariness of the day begins to levy its toll on Singapore’s consciousness and his head droops. Safe in his companion’s arms, sleep tempts him. He almost doesn’t hear when Malaya whispers: “When do these rules start?”

“Next week,” Singapore murmurs.

Malaya’s lips press gently to his temple. “Then we will send Taiwan and the others some letters. We will wish them an early Happy New Year, before these awful new rules take effect.”

Shifting, Singapore meets his brilliant golden eyes. Dark umber bangs brush the tips of his eyelashes and a firecracker lights in his heart. His oyen is so handsome. They kiss and Malaya’s inviting mouth tastes faintly of chilies.

“Can I stay with you for more than a few days?” Malaya whispers.

“Of course,” Singapore says. “But is that okay? Won’t you get in trouble with the sultans?”

With a wave of his hand, Malaya dismisses the notion. “I’ll just keep begging my bosses until I manage to annoy them into letting me stay. Besides, my sayang is worth it.” A smile dawns on Singapore’s features and they entwine their fingers. Malaya nuzzles his hair. “And after I go, I'll come back in the spring to help you build your garden. We can plant some red hibiscus together.”

“...That would be nice.”

Suddenly, Malaya squeezes him tight and peppers his face with kisses until he’s laughing. And the spark in his heart becomes a booming firework display, so bright and colourful that it threatens to burst from his soul. 

Eventually, Singapore has to push him away, before things get heated and they make a mess of both their clothes and the dining table. He suspects there are red chili smears decorating his face. Malaya relents only after leaving a suggestive bite to his neck, practically purring with delight.

They gather up the dishes from the table, and as Singapore follows his companion back to the kitchen, he finds he is able to stand straighter. Malaya has a kind of resilience, a living strength that courses along the lines of his shoulders and blooms in the curve of his toothy smile. And Singapore has always found it captivating. Despite their misfortune and the struggle of navigating life, his oyen thrives and endures. How lucky he is to share delicious dinners and squander time with this special person. 

Singapore’s thoughts drift to the feathery bed that beckons them both and suppresses a shiver of excitement. Hurriedly, he plunges a bowl into the water basin and scrubs it clean, eager to indulge in the rest of their evening and the precious days ahead.

As long as he has Malaya, everything will be okay.

End / Fin

~~~

Author’s Notes 

Laurence Guillemard was the British-appointed “Governor of the Straits Settlements” and “High Commissioner for the Federated Malay States” from 1920 – 1927. 

“Abang” and “sayang” are Malay terms of endearment. 

Malaya/Malaysia’s national animal is a tiger, which is why Singapore calls him “oyen,” meaning: orange cat.

The first Singaporean shophouses were built starting in the 1840s, under the original ordinances laid down by Sir Stamford Raffles. Over the years, architecture styles changed but the houses remained popular until the 1960s. They are now considered important heritage pieces and are valued as historic examples of architecture.

An attap house is a traditional dwelling made with attap palms, which provide wattle for the walls and leaves for their thatched roofs. They are often found in kampongs (traditional villages) throughout South East Asia.

The Anglo-Japanese Alliance was a pact between the British and Japanese that was signed in 1902. Both parties benefited in various ways, including defensive strategies, trade, and cultural exchanges. However, over the following decades, the relationship would slowly deteriorate. It was viewed as an obstacle at the Paris Peace Conference following WW1, and then battered further by the 1921 Imperial Conference. It finally dissolved on 13 December 1921, when the Four-Power Treaty was signed in Washington DC.

Lunar New Year! In Malaysia, the holiday’s official name is “Tahun Baru Cina”. 

Taihoku was the name given to Taipei while it was under Japanese rule.

“...your hair will turn white.” It’s my personal headcanon that Singapore got his trademark streak of white hair from overworking himself in the 20th century.

[swiftsuburbanlegends]

OKAY OKAY Lucas and Nik get injured and end up with Danny for safety purposes, Vin gets upset because he's her safe space and feels betrayed by him for letting Lucas in but Dallas tells her everything he did to get here for her and how his brother died (mayhaps it's never permanent we decide later) so after some stewing Vin has a normal conversation with him

Look I can see Lucas struggling to like stuff his duffle, because he knows this is hurting Vin, and he'd rather risk infection on the streets than be the reason she is in pain again.

She comes into the room and sees him putting in the last of his stuff.

"What do you think you're doing?" He sighs, knowing he can't make up an excuse. "What does it look like? I'm getting out of your way." "I never said I wanted you to go." "Maybe not to my face, princess, but we both know you would like it better if I found other accommodations." "I told you to stop calling me that." Only she's not sure if she actually had. Lucas was the only one who had ever called her 'princess'. The moniker was technically hers, but she had never felt like it fit. She had never even seen the inside walls of the Queen castle. She had believed herself a commoner a lot longer than she had known the truth. He met her gaze then nodded. "As you wish. But still I should go." "Don't be stupid, you can barely more your arm," she gestured to him as he tried to move his duffle from the bed. "You could make that worse if you leave." "And if I stay, I'm gonna hurt you worse. And I can't be the reason you're in anymore pain," he shook his head and she can see the tears he's fighting back. "So I'll find something else, somewhere else." "You think leaving is going to cause me less pain?" "Vin--" She moved to him, taking the bag and tossing it to the side. "No. If you leave, and something bad happens to you, what do you think that's gonna do to Dallas, to me?" "I thought you wanted me gone?" "I never said that." "You sure as hell have acted like it." He winced, and she didn't know if it was out of pain or the reality of his words. So Vin did the one thing she could think to do get him to stay. She reached across the space, a couple of inches that felt like lightyears, and took his hand. "I wanted you to be able to go back. I wanted you not to be working for Merlyn, to stop yourself from turning in Thea. I wanted you to be able to erase the things that drove us apart." "If I could--" "Let me finish, please," Vin took her other hand so she could turn his face to hers. "I know we can't go back. I know the things you did, they'll always be there. And I wish I could tell you that they won't keep me at arms length, but I can't. What I do know is, even if I didn't want to admit it, when you were shot I was terrified that I would never see you again." "I'm right here," he said, squeezing her fingers. "You weren't though," she shook her head. "For an hour I thought, I thought you weren't going to make it. I thought, this is it? This is one of my only tethers to home, just cut. No valiant roar, no fighting tooth and nail to stay, just you, gone. And it felt like losing my parents all over again, but so much worse." "You and Dallas are my only connections to home," she continued with a sad smile. "And if you die, I don't think I could handle that for real." "Princess..." "So stay," she pressed. "Maybe it's selfish, but stay anyway. Because if you leave, I'm going to imagine the worst. You promised me once that you would never leave my side, and you'd always protect me. And if you leave--"

[shardofhope-fanfic]

Jimmothy. (2021, May- 2024, March, 7th)

I don't know if it's hilarious, or morbid that Jimmothy and his brother passed at the exact same time in my life. I don't mean a date, or anything so specific. But they left me during the transitory periods of my life when I had time to dedicate to them without any other worries. When Juice Box passed, it was too soon. I fought the reaper tooth and nail to give him more. He died short of his second birthday.

Jimmothy was made of tougher stuff than that, I suppose, but the march of time will wear us all down. Rats have it rougher than us, as after two years, their nerves began to fray and fail. I knew he was getting old in December when he began to waddle. Hind Leg degeneration had begun. I thought it would be different, this time. A slow decline into a peaceful death. I had time to come to terms with it. I thought it would be easier.

This monday, he seemed slightly off. He was still eating, but very little. All he wanted was apple sauce and attention, and I made an appointment for him to get checked out on Thursday. Not for any notion that I could keep him alive for much longer, but to make him comfortable.

Tuesday, he had stopped eating altogether and took a rapid downturn, only wanting to sleep, and occasionally cuddle. Strange, considering he was as independent as a rat could be. He hated being handled and coddled. And would only allow extended petting when he rode around on my shoulder like a pirate. Boys always tended to be, but that's what I loved about them. They were little teenagers, constantly embarrassed by their "Dad" being around, except when I fed them of course.

Later in the night, I knew that he wasn't long for this world. His hind legs had completely given up the ghost, and I couldn't coax him to even drink water. I thought it would be easier. It was not. I cried my eyes out like it was the first time I held him. I was so convinced that he would be gone in the morning, so I slept, getting mentally ready for burying the last of my first pair.

Yet he was still there in the morning, so my surprise. All that preparation crumbled in a moment, and I spent most of the day crying, petting him, and fretting over making him comfortable. I made a bed for him on my desk. I cried more, and I thought that maybe he would make it to the vet.

I spent an hour petting him as I listened to my records, holding him in my arms like I used to do when he was young as he rested. I made my peace then, I thought he may linger for a few more days and gently put him away to use the restroom.

by the time I got back, he was gone. died in the 3 min it took me to take a piss and wash my hands. His brother, of course, did the exact same thing to me.

In my heart, I feel like he was helping me get over him before I had to put him to rest. That he knew how upset I would be, how much I loved the little bastard and wanted to spend some time with me before his time was up. I like to think that, instead of he just wanted to die alone.

Either way, he was an important part of my life. Bought as a paid with his brother, during some of the worst years in my life. I'm better than I was then, healthier and happier, despite everything. Yet....Yet I feel a little lost, without them. Without my boys.

This doesn't even feel like a eulogy to me, more an explanation of what happened, and how much I miss him already. Yet, it feels like the best way to show what he was. He was a stubborn bastard who always wanted his way, despite whatever it was. But he loved everyone, even still.

Even still. I want him to have a little of the immortality that the internet provides, and thus, I write this. In the end, his stubbornness was a gift to me, giving me the time to spend some last moments with a pet I loved with all my heart.

Goodbye, my little bastard. I'll miss you.

[l8rs-gat0rs]

Hello Stranger

Pairing: Mariam "Midge" Maisel x female Reader

Warning(s): allusions to homophobia, a brief switch to Midge's POV, y/n use, slight angst, tooth. rotting. fluff. Oh and ofc, lots of swearing, this IS a Marvelous Mrs. Maisel fic XD

Summary: You are at the- special...bar you frequent, and see a gorgeous stranger. You are Intrigued by her and decide to approach her.

Word count: 4.4k

My first Midge x reader fic!!! (And certainly not the last) I'm so proud of this and I love the show so much. This particular fic is based off of S4 E4 When Midge takes Susie to a Lesbian bar. I noticed The Midge x reader fics are extremely scarce, so why not add to the pool for all my Fellow Rachel Brosnahan simps haha. This ended up being wayyy longer than I expected, but I hope y'all enjoy it :)

~~~~~Happy Reading! ~~~~~~

You stood at the bar taking a sip of your drink, as a girl you were not interested in, told you something that, you guessed it…

you were not interested in. 

This is a typical Friday night at the bar.

You come to find love, and the same type of girl would always approach you.

The boring type.

You wanted someone who interested you, someone who made you laugh. Someone who would always keep you guessing. Someone who you could spend the rest of your life with and never get tired of.

You nodded absentmindedly as the girl in front of you spoke animatedly about...something.

You're just about to brush the girl off -kindly, of course- and take your leave when a woman walks into the bar.

She took her coat off after she sat down. Looking around with a big smile, ordering two drinks from the waitress who came to clean up their table from the previous patrons before facing the short woman she had come in with.

Oh, of course she already had a girlfriend.

But something seemed different about her.

She wasn't like the other women who usually came here.

Not to mention, drop-dead gorgeous.

You were surrounded by women making out by the bar but all you could see was her, as if a spotlight was shining on her.

"Um, hello???"

Suddenly your attention snapped back to the girl in front of you and you smiled at her sheepishly as she frowned.

"I'm so sorry, um- I-"

"Save it." She rolled her eyes and walked towards the huge crowd of women that were dancing.

"EAT ME, I'M EXCITED!"

Your head snapped back to the mystery woman with her assumed girlfriend and you chuckled as you watched her giggle at her girlfriend's statement.

Then her girlfriend seemed to look around, her smile slowly fading, causing you to quirk a brow.

She quickly leaned in, and the mystery woman looked excited.

The mystery woman leaned in as well, saying something back, but you couldn't make out what either of them were saying.

The mystery woman's smile disappeared, and her girlfriend seemed to be upset.

Ah, curse this, you were too far away to hear what either of them were saying.

You grabbed your drink and started to move to a place at the bar that was closer to them

You were surprised when the shorter woman drank her drink quickly before she got up, saying something angrily, before leaving the bar.

The mystery woman looked upset as she took a sip of the drink the waitress had put down.

This is it. It was time to make your move.

You walked over to her as she looked deep in her thoughts.

"Bad break up?" You asked her as you stood in front of her table holding your drink.

She looked up at you for a second, registering what you said, her eyes widened.

"Oh, no no, we aren't- I'm not-" She started waving her arms in the air in front of her.

You chuckled and she stopped speaking, a wonderful smile gracing her face.

"May I?" You smiled, gesturing to the seat across from her.

"Yes, yes, of course," she said quickly.

You sat down, placing your drink on the table.

"So that was, not your girlfriend?" You asked with a raised brow.

"Oh god no, that was Susie, she's just my friend. I wanted to bring her here because she's always so busy being my manager. I want her to find love."

"Your manager?" You questioned, taking a sip of your drink.

"Oh right, yeah, I'm a comedian. Susie is my manager."

"Wow, that's a new one." You were pleasantly surprised.

"Yeah, I get that one a lot," she smiled.

"I'm sure you do." You stared down at your drink, then looked back up at her with a smirk.

"Do you also get people telling you how gorgeous you are often?"

She smirked right back at you and raised her eyebrow.

"No, as a matter of fact I don't, so you should keep telling me that." She said, causing you to let out a laugh.

"I can tell you that all night if you want, because it's true," you shrugged.

"Well, aren't you just a charmer?" She sat back in her seat, eyeing you with her arms crossed.

"I guess you could say that." You smiled cheekily.

"And a cute one too," she said, her voice much quieter than before as she looked at you through her eyelashes, not breaking your eye contact.

"Now who's the charmer?" You shot back.

You practically felt your heart rapidly beating in your chest as silence enveloped the two of you. The tension could be cut with a knife.

"Wanna go for a walk?" She finally spoke up.

"Sure" 

The two of you downed the rest of your drinks before you got up, holding your hand out for her to take.

She smiled as she got up and slipped her hand into yours.

Your hand still burned from the contact after she let go to put her coat back on.

The two of you left the bar and started to walk down the lit-up streets of New York City.

"My name's y/n btw, I mean, in case you cared at all," you joked lightly.

Her eyes widened as she looked at you.

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry I never asked! My name is Miriam, but you can call me Midge." She said apologetically.

"Hey, no worries, to be fair, I didn't ask either, so it cancels out." You smiled, shrugging your shoulders.

Once again a beautiful smile graced her face and the melodic sound of her giggles reached your ear.

"Midge is a cute name." You remarked.

"Why, thank you, I happen to quite like your name as well" Midge smiled.

You giggled a bit causing Midge's smile to widen.

The two of you walked in silence for a few seconds before Midge spoke up once more.

"I've never...you know..." She started, implying words you understood very well. They had been said to you many times.

"Been with a woman before." You finished quietly for her.

"Yeah, that." She laughed nervously.

"It's okay, I understand." You stopped in your tracks, feeling self-conscious.

"No, no, no!" Midge turned around and grabbed your hands in both of hers.

You felt your cheeks and ears start to burn as you looked down at her soft hands holding yours.

"I, it's just...new, that's all." She looked down at your hand as well.

"But a good kind of new," she said lower, moving closer to you.

"Yeah?" You asked, meeting her eyes.

"Yeah, very good." She repeated softly, her eyes now locked onto your lips.

You worked hard to steady your breathing as you started to lean in closer, placing your hands on her hips.

Your eyes dropped to her lips and you licked your own, causing her mouth to open slightly.

You didn't feel it until Midge's back hit the tree behind her, but the two of you had slowly been moving.

Her eyes moved back up to yours as you did the same, the two of you looking for confirmation from each other before you softly pressed your lips against hers.

Midge breathed through her nose sharply, her breath feeling warmer than it actually was against your skin.

Growing excited, Midge opened her lips, testing the waters with her tongue, causing you to gasp as she placed her hands on your cheeks.

You felt her smile into the kiss before the two of you pulled away for air, gazing into each other's eyes once more.

"Wow, am I that good? You're out of breath and you've got stars in your eyes." She chuckled softly, her breath fanning your lips.

"I mean, obviously, the most beautiful woman in New York just kissed me." You smiled.

You watched as she looked down, playing with the Lapel of your coat and smiling to herself, her cheeks burning bright red in contrast to her fair complexion.

"Oh? She's blushing now!" You gasped, feigning surprise.

"Oh shut up!" She pushed you away from her causing you to laugh heartily.

"Come onnn, it's cute." You smiled after your laughter died down, offering her your hand.

She rolled her eyes with a smile and took your hand, the two of you continue to walk down the street.

She wrapped her arm around yours, not wanting to let go as the two of you walked.

You felt her body heat melt into you, you never wanted to let go.

"You know, I don't think I'd ever get tired of your smile." You said aloud.

"I'd never get tired of hearing you laugh." She replied.

"I'll definitely laugh, especially with you." You nudged her softly.

"And I'll definitely smile, especially with you." She nudged you back.

You felt like you were on cloud nine, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

Midge checked her watch and frowned a bit.

"Is everything okay?" You asked, slightly concerned.

"Yeah, it's just really late and I should get back home. My kids are probably asleep right now." She sighed, letting go of your arm and turning to face you as the two of you stopped walking.

"Kids? You're...you're married?" You said, dismayed. You felt your heart begin sink.

"Oh god no! I was married, but that didn't quite work out. My husband left me for his secretary if you can believe it." She laughed light-heartedly.

You let our a sigh of relief before responding.

"I actually can't believe that because, how is he stupid enough to leave you?" Your eyes widened as you gestured to her.

"I ask myself that everyday." She laughed.

"Wellll, on the bright side"

You grabbed her gently by the waist and quickly pulled her closer to you, causing her to let out a surprised 'oh!'

"As a result of said stupidity, I got to meet you." You smirked.

She pressed her lips to yours once more, a quick kiss, causing your head to spin at the boldness of this woman.

"Yes, thank you Joel!" She announced to the sky, throwing her arms into the air.

You laughed at her outburst,

"Well then, I'll let you get back to your kids." You stood back from her, placing your hands into your pockets.

"I really had fun today y/n, thank you." Midge said sincerely.

"Me too" You smiled warmly.

"Do I get to see you again?" Midge asked hopefully.

"Of course," you nodded.

"You need a cab?" You asked, ready to call one for her.

"No I'm good, I live close by. My apartment is two blocks that way." She pointed behind herself.

"Oh, me too actually, but I'm that way" you pointed behind you.

"Ahhh, a fellow resident of the upper West Side!" Midge raised her eyebrows with a smile.

"You know it," you chuckled.

"Well then, I'll see you around?" You questioned.

"I will see you around." She nodded her head once.

"Oh, and one more thing," you said, causing Midge to raise her eyebrows.

You moved closer to her and you heard her breath hitch when you leaned in towards her lips, your breath mixing with hers.

She closed her eyes causing you to smirk as you slipped the piece of paper you had written your number on earlier Into her coat pocket.

She opened her eyes slowly when she didn't feel your lips, seeing you standing the same distance you were before you leaned in.

She gave you a pointed look causing you to laugh.

"What? Expecting something else?" You smirked at her.

Midge rolled her eyes as you noticed a blush creep along her cheeks, causing you to laugh once again.

You quickly moved back closer to her and pecked her lips softly causing a smile to return to her face.

"Check your pocket, darling." You eyed her right pocket you had slipped the paper into.

She looked down and grabbed the paper out of her pocket, grinning as she looked at the digits.

"Do you just keep a piece of paper with your number on it at all times?" She asked incredulously.

"You never know when you'll need to give a pretty woman your number." You shrugged, a smirk still gracing your face.

"Well, aren't you a smug one." Midge placed the paper back in her pocket before crossing her arms.

"What can I say, I'm popular with the ladies" You shrugged once again.

"Wow, I better step up my game then, before you start making business cards." She joked.

You laughed loudly causing Midge to light up.

"Oh no, trust me. You're the only woman I've ever given my number to." You clarified.

Midge's smile softened at your revelation.

"You were waiting for the right person?" She asked softly.

"Pretty much " You replied.

"Well then, I'll be sure to call you." Midge smiled as she patted her pocket with your number in it.

"I will be eagerly awaiting that call!" You pointed at her while walking backwards.

"I won't make you wait too long, I promise." Midge called after you.

You smiled before saluting, and turning around to walk back home after shoving your hands into your pockets.

You squeezed your eyes shut tightly and grinned before opening them again.

You couldn't wait for her call.

~~~Midge's POV~~~

"Jesus Christ Miriam, the two of you were just swapping spit? In public!?" Susie said with widened eyes.

"God-what!? We weren't, swapping spit. We kissed a couple of times that's it, and no one was even around!" Midge explained exasperatedly.

"Yeah, thank god! Otherwise, the two of you would be goners." Susie muttered.

"Susie-" Midge started.

"It's the biggest fuckin joke of the century, you bring me to a lesbian bar to find someone, and you end up finding a woman for yourself!" Susie exclaimed dryly.

"I mean yeah, now that you mention it, it is a bit funny isn't it?" Midge smiled.

"Ugh you are always smiling. Stop. It's like looking into the sun every goddamn time I look at you" Susie groaned.

"Wellll, she said she liked my smile. A lot." Midge sighed dreamily.

"Wow, she's really got you hooked hasn't she?" Susie said, more softly than usual.

Midge raised her eyes in surprise as she looked at Susie.

"Whaaat? Why you looking at me like that!?" Susie shouted once again.

"You caaaaare about me Susie!!!" Midge exclaimed joyously, while throwing her arms around Susie.

"Ah, shut the fuck up, don't make me regret it!" Susie snapped.

Midge removed her arms from Susie, backing away with her hands in the hair, but with a smirk.

"Anyways go call her ya big dummy. But be careful with her. You can't trust broads these days." Susie muttered the last sentence with her arms crossed.

Midge took mental note of Susie's words, wondering who had hurt her friend this badly to the point where she couldn't trust women anymore.

"Is it too desperate to call now though?" Midge asked cautiously.

"Desperate!? It's been 2 days!! She's gonna think you blew her off!" Susie shouted, throwing her hands out to the side.

"Oh, shit. Really!?" Midge asked with wide eyes.

"Yes really, who the fuck are you? Lenny Bruce!?" Susie asked incredulously.

"Well I mean, Lenny-" Midge raised a pointed finger in the air.

"GO CALL HER." Susie cut her off.

"Yup, going!" Midge nodded before hurrying to the phone.

~~~ Y/n's POV ~~~

You sucked on a lollipop a kid had sweetly given you while you were on the subway.

Damn, this thing was good.

The phone ringing startled you a bit.

You clutched your chest with the lollipop still in your mouth before you picked up the phone.

"Y/n L/n, who is this?" You said absentmindedly into the phone.

"Ah, I've got your last name!" You heard a woman's voice through the phone.

Wait.

"Woah, Midge!? You called me! I was beginning to think you had blown me off!" You straightened up excitedly, taking the lollipop out of your mouth.

"No, never! Who in their right mind would blow you off! I mean, unless we're talking about different blowing- oh wait! I forgot, you don't have a penis so there's nothing to blow on is there? Ah shit, that was a good one too." You heard her say.

You practically snorted into the phone.

"Wow you're funny, you should take up comedy sometime." You joked.

"Wow really!? Thank you so much for the suggestion! Maybe I will..." Midge said thoughtfully.

The two of you chuckled before you fell into a warm silence.

"So... What made you call back?" You spoke up curiously.

"I missed you. I want to see you again." She replied simply, causing your heart to speed up.

"Yeah?" You breathed out with a smile.

"Yes." You could practically hear the smile in her voice.

"Well then, where shall we meet?" You asked, putting the lollipop back into your mouth as you waited for her response.

"Hmmm... How boouuut..." She thought for a while.

"Ah! There's this small diner in the West Village..." Midge started.

"Mhm," you said, still sucking on the lollipop.

"It's called the City Spoon, you know it?" She asked.

You took the lollipop out of your mouth as you thought for a moment.

"Hmm, yeah actually, I'm pretty sure I know it." You said, vaguely remembering going into the place one or two times.

"Alright, perfect! Then it's settled. It's a date!" Midge announced excitedly.

"Oh, so it is a date?" You smirked.

"Yes, yes it is." Midge said matter-of-factly.

"Okay then. What do you think about next Monday?" You asked.

"Next Friday is perfect." Midge confirmed.

“Oop okay then, I guess next Friday is perfect" You chuckled

“Oh wait sorry, did you say Monday?” She backtracked.

“No no, Friday is great!” You reassured her.

“You sure?” She asked uncertainly.

“Yes I’m sure” You smiled

“Okay then, perfect. I will see you on Friday.” You heard a smile in her voice.

"Alright, well I can't wait to see you then." You said shyly, looking down at the lollipop In your hand.

"Has anyone ever told you, your voice sounds hot over the phone?" Midge said with a lower voice.

Your eyes widened and you dropped the lollipop in your hand.

"Ah fuck!" You shouted as it fell to the floor.

"Jesus, was it that bad?" Midge joked through the phone.

"Ah no, no! I just dropped the lollipop I was having." You sighed and chuckled.

"Oh, so it was a good 'ah fuck!'. Also, did you just say a lollipop??" Midge asked.

You pictured her with a confused face on, eyebrows furrowed, causing you to giggle because she looked adorable in your mind.

"Yes, I was eating a lollipop just now, I know it's childish, but it tastes good!" You defended yourself, shrugging your shoulders after picking up the lollipop and throwing it out.

"Hey, I'm not judging!" Midge claimed.

"Right..." You smiled.

"I wasn't! But hey, I'm sorry I gotta go. I really want to stay and talk more, but Susie is making weird, slightly sexual hand gestures at me... What? You fingered a pigeon?" Midge sounded confused.

"I'm not even gonna ask..." You laughed.

"Ah, she's yelling at me, I'll see you next Friday?" Midge asked hopefully.

"Next Friday." You confirmed with a smile.

"Great! Bye!" She said happily.

"Bye Midge." You said, before you placed your phone back on the receiver.

You shut your eyes tight and pumped your hands in the air, jumping up and down with excitement.

~~~time skip to next Friday~~~

You looked up at the sign above the diner.

Yup, this was it.

You took a deep breath in before opening the door and walking in.

"Y/n, over here!" Midge waved at you with a big smile on her face.

You smiled as well, making your way over to the table she sat at and sitting down yourself after removing your coat and hanging it on the back of your chair.

"I'm so glad you made it." Midge said with relief.

"Yeah, me too," you nodded.

"Sooo what do you recommend?" You asked her after picking up a menu the waitress had left on the table for you.

"I mean, it is around breakfast time, so I would recommend the pancakes. They are amazing!" Midge raved.

"Alright then, I'll take your word for it!" You shrugged with a smile.

"Great! You won't regret it" Midge said excitedly before flagging down the waitress.

"Two orders of pancakes for us please." Midge said, handing her the menus.

The waitress smiled and nodded before writing the order down and going to give it to the chef.

"So, you come here often?" You asked Midge looking around the pretty small diner.

"Actually yeah. I used to come here a lot with my ex-husband. We actually came here right after our wedding." Midge said more quietly, with a wistful smile.

"Oh, I'm-" you started, your smile falling.

"No, no it's okay! I missed the old place. I haven't been in a while since the divorce, other than coming here with Joel once in a while to talk about the kids and stuff." She brushed it off.

"I picked this place because I love it, and hey, why not make new amazing memories here." She smiled warmly at you.

Your smile returned, and after a beat of silence, she spoke up again.

"What about you? You got a special spot as well?" She inquired curiously.

"I mean, yeah I did. I used to have a... partner, as well, not married or anything, but we were together for a while" you started saying, Midge hanging on to every word you spoke.

"We had this cute little spot down in Greenwich Village. We used to love going there." You smiled fondly at the memory.

"Well, what happened? Why'd you stop going?" Midge asked.

Your smile was replaced with a frown.

"Well, one day some people decided to tell us off. They didn't appreciate people like us..." You said, hinting to Midge at what you were saying.

Midge frowned and moved to put her hand over yours on the table.

"It's okay though, I still go there myself sometimes. I don't think anyone who works there remembers me." You chuckled.

"We could make our own spot. A new spot." Midge squeezed your hand, looking deep into your eyes.

"Yeah, I'd like that." You smiled.

She smiled softly as well before the waitress came back with your food.

"Here you guys go, enjoy!" She nodded at the two of you before going off to help another person.

"Alright, here we go!" Midge exclaimed excitedly once again.

She grabbed the syrup and started drizzling it over her pancakes.

Your mouth was practically salivating as you looked at your food.

You put some butter on it and watched it melt a bit before Midge handed you the syrup.

You repeated her action before placing the syrup back down.

"Alright, let's dig in." Midge said, grabbing her fork and knife and cutting into her pancakes.

You did the same and brought a piece of pancake to your mouth before placing it in and chewing slowly. Midge watched you intently, waiting to see your reaction.

Your eyes lit up, causing midge's to widen as she raised her eyebrows.

You swallowed before speaking.

"This is amazing!" You burst out.

"Yes! A success!" Midge pumped her hand in the air after placing her fork down.

The two of you chuckled before starting to eat the rest of your food.

You talked in between bites, getting to know each other slowly.

When the two of you were done you got up, leaving your money on the table. You made sure Midge didn't pay, claiming it was your treat.

After some resistance she let you pay for it and the two of you grabbed your coats, putting them on before walking outside into the cool city air.

"Blegh, I'm stuffed." You said holding your stomach.

"I know, me too. Those things are heavy! I might not fit into this dress anymore," Midge exclaimed, causing you to chuckle.

"I usually have eggs and bacon but I thought I'd switch it up." She continued.

You smiled before speaking up,

"So...." You said into the air, not looking at her.

"So?" She asked curiously.

You sighed, suddenly feeling nervous.

Midge frowned,

"Hey, what's going on in that pretty head of yours?" She asked, holding onto your arm.

"I really like you, Midge." You said sincerely, looking into her eyes as the two of you stopped walking.

Midge stepped in front of you.

"And that's a bad thing?" she smiled lopsidedly.

"No, no! It's just..." You sighed once again.

"Hey, it's alright, you can tell me." Midge grabbed both of your hands into hers.

"I don't want to be hurt again. After what happened, the thing I told you, at the spot in Greenwich Village, my ex, she...she left me. She wasn't willing to go through 'the struggles of being with me in public' anymore," you rolled your eyes, making air quotes.

"She left me after that night. She left me, and went off and got married to some...Man." You looked away, the pain in your chest twisting your stomach and making your heart ache.

"Oh, baby... I'm so sorry" Midge said, putting a hand on your face and making you look back into her eyes.

You smiled, a warm flicker sparking in your heart at the pet name.

Tears started to form in your eyes and Midge stroked her thumb along your cheek.

"I promise, I will never hurt you like that." She said firmly.

You leaned into her hand and put your hand over hers.

"I won't leave you, and if anyone decides to fuck with us, I will go to jail defending you." She furrowed her brows seriously.

You laughed, causing a smile to return to her face.

"There's that gorgeous laugh I love." She said softly before pulling you in for a small kiss.

You giggled after pulling away.

"Hey, it's still morning!" You said hushedly.

"So? Like I said, I'll kick anyone's ass if they fuck with us." She said, stepping back and flexing her muscles.

"Oh, you tiny, dangerous thing" You said fondly.

"I am very dangerous, don't doubt it!" She said pointedly.

"Oh, I don't." You both laughed as she grabbed your arm, and the two of you started walking down the street again.