#she is lurking somewhere

[ssunfish]

kim dokja...the guyest guy to ever have guyed...

[themarychain]

do you think emerald fennell is checking tumblr and ao3 on the regular to see if we’re making content and doing our job

[rays-of-fire-and-ice]

Returnal: Summer

Two Weeks of Hitsuhina 2024: Day 5 - Go with the Clouds / Hobbies

Rating: K/General

Setting: between the ten-year time-skip and No Breath from Hell oneshot.

Synopsis: While visiting a town in the World of the Living with Toshiro, Momo begins to have a strange feeling she’s been there before.

AN: this has been a stop-start fic since March of this year. It first came to me when I happened to be listening to World #07 Blues from the DiamondDust Rebellion OST (YT | Spotify) and looked at the clouds towering high in the sky on the horizon (in scientific terms, the formation is referred to as a cumulus congestus cloud… yes I looked it up in case anyone was curious XD). Since then, I was struggling to figure out what this fic was going to be about, because it felt like there was more to it than Momo and Toshiro have a day off int he World of the Living.

It didn’t really crystalise until I was thinking on the theme 'go with the clouds' and I figured out why Momo was feeling the way she was about the town.

A few notes before we begins:

In terms of what they’re wearing in this fic, imagine whatever you want, but I saw Toshiro in the Black Hole Disco attire (not with the headphones and wearing a pair of three quarter pants instead, but yes, he’s wearing the bucket hat), and Momo is in the outfit on the left here and her hair done up in a side ponytail

A shoutengai is a type of shopping district in Japan. It can be considered a market of sorts, where you can buy the usual things you’d find at marketplaces like groceries, meals and snacks, cosmetics, clothes, housewares and more. They vary in size from town to town, but regardless they can also host big social events like festivals. Most of my research for this came talking about them with a friend who’s been to Japan and from quick google searches. If I got anything inaccurate, please let me know so I can fix it.

The rats Hitsugaya mentions are the Ryukyu long-tailed giant rat. It’s a rodent native to Japan, specifically the Ryukyu Islands and it has long hairs that look like spikes.

The cup mentioned in this fic is here.

Momo is acting out of character at certain points, and is harsh at one point, This is deliberate, and I hope it makes sense why this is the case as you read along.

If I had to recommend any music to listen to, anything from the Clannad anime soundtrack will work.

I hope you all enjoy this one!

__________________________________

The sun bears down on the back of Hitsugaya’s neck. He tilts the brim of his hat back to shade it, and despite the heat, he’s not experiencing the usual sluggishness that comes with the summer weather.

Regardless, the action gets Hinamori's attention. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” he assures.

“It’s not far,” she encourages, gesturing to the buildings ahead of them on the horizon. “I wonder why the senkaimon dropped us off here? I thought it would be near one of the shrines.”

He shrugs. “It’s probably an old pathway. There might have been a shrine here once but it’s been lost to time. We’ll have to make a note to Twelfth Division when we get back”

She only nods, then continues towards the town. He doesn’t immediately follow.

The senkaimon had taken them to the outskirts, and he might have complained if not for the view and scenery it offers them. Aside from the sidewalks bordering either ride of the road, the powerlines coming down the hill and going into the town, there’s no other human-made structures out here. They’re on a flat plane in a valley, with flowers and tall grass on either side of the road. Bordering the area in far distance are hills and mountains, and towering high above them are clouds that slowly move across the sky.

Save for the few cars that have passed them, their shoes scraping along the footpath, and the swaying grass, it’s quiet. There’s a peacefulness here that is rare in most places he’s been to in the World of the Living.

He looks back to Hinamori, watching the ends of her skirt flutter in the wind and her cloth bag jostle around her shoulder. Out of everything, however, it the purposefulness in her strides that catches his attention the most.

“Why here?” he’d asked when she’d shown him pictures of the town on her denreishinki.

She’d given a small shrug, but her gaze never left the images. “I just thought it looks like a nice town to visit. I didn’t want to go somewhere too cold or hot, and I didn’t feel like going to a city. It's built up, but it also has a lot of nature. Maybe we could go for a walk there or do some shopping?"

There was something about her in that moment. She wasn’t being dishonest, but she hadn’t told him the whole truth, maybe even didn’t realise there was more to her choice than she knew. As if an unconscious force made her pick this place for their visit.

He brushes the thought aside for now, catching up to her and taking in the serenity around them.

_________________________________

It’s that feeling again. Something clinging to the edge of her heart, and fluttering at the back of her mind, hazy and out of reach.

Hinamori can’t decide if she should be perplexed by it or find it uncomfortable. It had started when she’d been searching for places she and Hitsugaya could visit for their day trip. More specifically, when this town showed up more than once as a recommended day trip destination.

The feeling intensifies now that they walk down the town’s main street. She tries to focus on her surroundings, taking in the architecture of the buildings around her. They’re mostly modern, but occasionally there’s a building that’s out of place, as if transported from another time. They’re well maintained, with obvious repaired having been made to their roofs or walls, but still maintaining their traditional look. They remind her of the buildings in the Junrinan’s business district.

There aren’t a lot of people around to considering it 'bustling', but there's enoguh to make her think the town isn't as small as one might assume based on the maps and pictures she'd seen. There’s a few residents that even have their pets with them, either carrying them or keeping them on leash.

“Look at that dog, Shiro-chan!” Hinamori quietly gushes when she spots a small, white Japanese Spitz with it’s owner across the street. “It’s so fluffy!”

Hitsugaya only snorts and watches the dog trot down the footpath.

“…You know, it kind of looks liked you.”

He lets out a strangled sound which briefly catches the attention of a few around them. “How?!”

“Well, it’s fur looks like your hair, it’s got a very determined stride, and…” She raises a hand to her lips, stifling a giggle and covering the teasing smile curling her lips.

He glares at her, even as blush faintly colors his cheeks. “We didn’t come here for you to compare me to a dog.”

“No, I suppose we didn’t.” She fishes out her denreishinki from her pocket, bringing up the map of the main and connecting streets. “Come on, lets go find the shoutengai.”

 There are a few in this town, but the one that’d been recommend on a several Human websites she’d browsed through was the biggest of them all. It’s home to the usual types of shops, like clothing and homeware stores, but also obscure places like a tiny café that has hedgehog-themed food and beverages, a bookstore selling rare novels and collectables, and a confectionery shop with candies in all sorts of shapes and sizes and flavors.

It's several minutes later when they come across it. It’s hard to miss with the crowd gathered within and the different colored lanterns swaying beneath the shoutengai sign.

Hinamori stops before they cross the street to it’s entrance. “You sure about this?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I know you’re not a fan crowds, so…”

He shrugs. “It's not like we're staying here the whole time."

She smiles in gratitude. “Okay.” Even so, she can’t help but offer, “After this, we can go wherever you want.”

“There's that walking trail you mentioned before, I guess.” Before she can agree to it, he walks past her. “Come on.”

Crossing the street, they manoeuvre their way through the crowds in front until they’re inside. When they enter, Hinamori has to stop to take it all in.

Above them is a semi-circular glass roof, and hanging from it and the beams dotted every several meters are lanterns. Beneath them are smaller signs for all the store and stall within the alleyway. Despite the crowds packing the district, there’s an airy feel to the place. Something lively and cheerful. She grins, finally knowing she made the right decision to come here.

She grabs Hitsugaya’s wrist, and while he lets out a surprised grunt, she points to the nearby candy store, “I saw that one in the blogs! Let’s go check it out.”

They didn’t stay in the store long, with Hinamori buying several bags of sweets for Women’s Association members – Nanao had been keen for everyone to get ideas for their next event, maybe making and selling sweets might inspire them, Hinamori reasoned to herself – and for her captain – he likely misses treats from the World of the Living, she further reasoned.

Hitsugaya stays close as they wonder from store to store. A part of her wishes he’d peel off and go look at something himself, but he’s never been much of a shopper.

From there, she peruses all the store fronts, ducking in when something catches her eye. When she comes upon the hedgehog-themed café, it takes everything in her – and Hitsugaya's small lecture about saving funds – to not buy several of the hedgehog-shaped foods or pay to pet one of the hedgehogs there.

“I’m surprised,” he mutters when they leave.

She lets out a nervous laugh. “At least I only got one thing.” Said thing is packet of two cookies, stowed away with the other candies.

“Not that.” He shakes his head. “Since when have you liked those sorts of creatures? You used to run from the spiny rats in the Junrinan.”

“That was different! Besides…I was younger then, I didn’t know they were harmless.” She turns back to the front windows of the café, watching the Humans hold and pet the tiny creatures. “Besides, those little guys wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“They literally have spikes!”

“Sounds like you are the one scared of them, Shiro-chan.”

“I am not!”

She laughs at his outrage. “You know, I think they remind me of you too.”

With a loud grumble, he stalks ahead of her. “I’m going to the bookstore.”

"You mean the one we were in before?"

"No, the other one."

That makes her stop. “There was a bookstore?”

He spins on his heel, and when he notices her surprise, his embarrassment turns to teasing. “How did you miss it?”

“You should’ve pointed it out to me!”

He shrugs. “Well, I’m going there. You’ll have to find it yourself.”

She blinks at his audacity, then scrambles to catch up to him. “Hey, wait up!”

She avoids bumping into Humans while trying not to lose sight of him. When a couple comes in front, she has to skid to a stop.

“Ah, sorry!” she quickly apologises, before going around them. Hitsugaya is gone. She sighs wearily. Well, at least he decided to go somewhere on his own.

Deciding to join him later, Hinamori wonders from shop to shop. She comes to another homemade housewares store a few minutes later, browsing the shelves at the front packed with cutlery and ceramics, varying in shapes and designs. She thought to buy a new cup for herself, something different from what she typically found in the Soul Society. When her eyes fall on a black and blue cup, another idea comes to mind.

It’s not his birthday yet, she thinks, and I don’t really have an occasion to give this to him anytime soon. Still…

She picks the cup up, turning it around in her hands. It’s mostly black, but there’s a shiny sliver of the brown clay at the base and blue colors the inside and covers the rim, as if water were spilling out over the lip. It’s the perfect size for tea and light in weight despite the sturdy construction.

The price tag makes her purse her lips, but after a beat, she walks into the store and straight to the cashier before she changes her mind.

Maybe I can wait until his birthday? she wonders after coming out of the store, bag now a bit heavier with the boxed up purchase. It’s only five months away, it’s not too long of a wait, right? It’ll save me having too…

A painting displayed on an easel catches her eye. It makes her come to a complete stop in the middle of the arcade, with Humans wondering around her none the wiser to the shock that thrums through her. She can’t understand this reaction, and that feeling that’d been lingering rushes forward like a tidal wave crashing up against the walls of her mind.

With slow steps, she treads to the painting. She barely registers that it’s a part of a small stall belonging to an artist, with several other paintings on display. She only sees the landscape rendered in muted acrylic paints. There’s a forest, with trees to thin but so tall they obscure the clouded sky. At the base of the trunks is a rocky bank, with stones colored brown and grey, and a small ring of dirt separated it from the green grass and flora of flowers and shrubs. The lake lapping at the bank is a pale blue-grey.

However, she’s seen that lake with her own eyes so many times, knows that it's actually a brighter, more vibrant blue. But how can she?

 _________________________________

Hitsugaya walks out of the bookstore, a parcel in one hand and with his brow furrowed deeply. He’d expected Hinamori to follow him; she never misses the chance to visit a bookstore whenever they go out. Then again, she rarely gets to visit the World of the Living and she always gets caught up in the sights and sounds she’s never experienced before.

Hitsugaya will never admit he likes seeing her like this. This peace the Seireitei has been experiencing for the past eleven years allows her to be happy again without worry or restraint. Yes there had been the few strange moments before and during this trip, but seeing her in the stores gleefully browsing and picking up things to decide if she should buy them or not, even watching her debate whether or not she wanted to pet a hedgehog, it’s a balm for the part of him still unable to let go of what happened over ten years ago.

He scans the district, first to the left towards the exit, then to the right. He puts his hat back on and begins walking the way he’d come before leaving her. Worst case scenario, he can call her denreishinki and meet up at the strange café again. Proving to himself that she can be happy, that he can be happy, as times goes on.

He glances down at the parcel. It has string wrapped around it and tied off in a bow with a tag dangling from one of the ends.

She’s going to want to know about it. It’s rare for him to buy anything on any shopping venture he goes on. I could give it to her now and make the apology. He glances at the Humans around him. No, not here. When we go on the walk.

Through the crowds, Hinamori's profile into view. He makes his way to her, but the closer he approaches, the clearer her expression becomes and the quicker his steps get. She clutches the straps of her bag tightly, and her widened eyes stare at a painting. The furrow in her brow, something caught between distress and confusion, makes him surge forward, bumping into Humans without care.

Someone approaches her, however, knocking her out of this state. He forces himself to a stop, well within her view. Still, she focuses on the stranger as she raises her hand in reassurance and offers a wobbly smile. The Human – the artist of the painting, Hitsugaya assumes – bows her head, and again, Hinamori waves her hand and says something. They speak for a moment, and at one point Hinamori points a trembling hand at the painting.

He finally catches her eyes when he takes slower steps towards her. Hinamori visibly relaxes when their gazes meet.

“Ah, here’s my friend now. I better get going!” She bows to the artist. “Sorry again, I didn’t mean to cause a scene.”

“Oh, no, you didn’t! I was worried my painting had affected you somehow.”

“No, really, it was fine. Thank you for telling me about it.” Then, a bit too quickly, she leaves.

“What was that all –?” She walks past without so much as glancing at him. It only alarms him more. He catches up to her in a few steps and grabs her wrist, forcing her to stop. “Hinamori?”

She doesn’t look at him, staring ahead at the exit. After a shaky breath, she lowers her head, her bangs falling over her temples. “Can we leave? I need to get some air.”

He loosens his grip. “Yeah, sure.”

They make their way out, ending up on a quieter street. He lets her lead the way, taking a short walk through a park. He thinks to speak, to ask about what happened back there, but he waits, knowing she’ll bring up in her own time.

By the time they get to the other side of the park, where a road curves down a hill lined with building on their side and giving them a view of a forest sprawled out below. She opens her mouth, but closes it and presses her lips into a thin line.

“Looked like you were affected by that painting,” he offers.

Again she hesitates, but after a shake of her head, she says, “Yeah. It sounds crazy, but I’ve made a drawing of the place in that painting.”

His brow furrows. “Huh?"

“The thing is…I don’t know where that place is.”

“What?”

They’d been walking down the incline, and she brings them to a stop. “Remember when we were in the Junrinan I started drawing pictures of my past?”

He nods.

“I'm certain one of those drawings was of that place. By the time I was drawing it, I’d started to forget where it was and why I remembered it.”

“You're saying the place in that painting is from when you were a Human?"

"I think so..." She lets out a soft, choked sound. "But it might not be. Maybe it looks a lot like one of the places I drew, but it's not it."

Does this explain her strange behavior at certain points? Did something about this town resonate with long forgotten memories for her? Could this town even be...?

He’s out of his depth with this one. What can he say or do to make this better? “It’s not unheard of for a Shinigami to remember places from their past.”

Hinamori blinks. “Huh?”

“When I was a seated officer,” Hitsugaya continues. “I remember rumours among the officers too, about Shinigami acting strange when they were assigned to certain places, and as a result they needed to be transferred. I never paid it much mind, until one of my subordinates came back from a posting requesting to be transferred. He recognised certain buildings in a city he thought he’d never been too. He couldn’t understand it, and tried so hard to explain it to Matsumoto and I when he returned.” He tries to make his shrug casual, but it's too stiff. "That might be happening to you now."

“I guess. It was considered strange I remembered my past life for as long as you did when I arrived the Soul Society.” She sighs. “Sorry, our trip wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“It’s fine, you couldn’t have known.” He steps closer to her. “Do you want to head back to the Soul Society?”

He expects her to either nod or say something to the effect of, ‘Not yet. I still need to make this a trip worth going on.’ He doesn’t expect the pursing of her lips or the balling of her hand into a tight fist around the straps of her bag.

“The thing is,” she says, “I asked that artist where that place was, and she said it’s here.”

The air around them changes, becoming thicker. It's all the confirmation he needs.

When a car rushes past, it jolts him to speak. “And you want to go looking for this place?”

She becomes rueful. “Yeah, I do.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “Are you sure that’s wise? Considering how you reacted before, it might not be a good idea.”

She vehemently shakes her head. “I need to find it! I don’t know how I know it, but if I go there, I’m certain I’ll understand.”

“But it’s from before your life in the Soul Society. What do you hope to gain from it?”

There’s a flicker in her gaze. “I don’t expect you to understand, and if you want to head back to the Seireitei, you can.” She turns and begins walking away. “She told me where I can find it, and I’m going there.”

He’s certain she meant no ill intention or malice behind her words, but he can’t help the pang that runs through his chest. He’s left speechless while watching her go. What’s gotten into her?

“As if I’m leaving,” he grumbles, rushing after her.

She doesn’t look back at him, her gaze searching for something around the town. They walk in tense silence until Hinamori points out a street sign for a shrine that's on the right. "She said to go left of this sign into the forest."

He doesn't like the grim determination in her eyes as they cross the road and walk between the tall trees. There's a dirt path winding around, leading from the flat they stand on down a gentle incline. "Then what?" he asks.

"Follow the path. At some point there's an old broken statue with white and purple flowers at the base."

She presses on, those purposeful strides back again. His hand balls into a fist at his side. "Oi."

She stops but only half turns back to him.

He sighs and folds his arms. "If we don't find anything in twenty minutes, I'm strongly advising we turn back."

She narrows her gaze at the ground.

"Hinamori."

She gives a curt nod. "Fine."

They continue on, walking in silence once more. He doesn't like this, and yet, he can see something softening in her. Is doubt creeping in? He finds he likes that even less.

But what would she want to get out of returning to something she can't remember? That causes her to act like this? He can't think of a similar experience, and even if he could, it's likely he still couldn't fully relate to what she's thinking and feeling right now.

He's certain they're comign up to the twenty minute mark. He pauses on the path to check his denreishinki, but something bothers him in his periphery. To his right, in the far distance, past the tree and shrubbery, there's something grey.

“Hey,” he says, tapping her shoulder, then pointing it out.

When they get closer, Hitsugaya still can’t make out what it is. It’s what was described to Hinamori, but it could be the base of a lantern or a statue, maybe even the broken remains of a pillar. Nothing in the area gives him any clues. As the painter had said, however, at it's base are white and purple flowers either swaying or trying to cling and snake their way by the stone surface.

He’s about to speak, but stops at Hinamori’s intense gaze. It’s like the one had with the painting, as if she were caught somewhere else.

“Hinamori?” When she doesn’t respond, he touches her shoulder. “Oi, you’re spacing out again.”

She jolts with a hitch of breath. “I…” Her head tilts up. “Do you hear that?”

Now that she mentioned it, there’s a sound, one that isn’t like the birds chirping or the rustling of leaves. “Sounds like water.” Lapping water, to be exact. “We must be getting close.”

She nods, but stops. She looks down, finds something, and her gaze scans further down the hill. He frowns, trying to see what she does. It’s several heartbeats later when he notices the path hidden amongst the grass and foliage. It hadn’t been trodden on in quite some time, maybe even decades.

He startles when she sudden runs away, sandaled feet scrapping on the path. He nearly drops his parcel when leaps into action and sprints after her.

_________________________________

She’s gone into a state between shock and something heartfelt. She can feel tears burning in the corners of her eyes, but she can’t understand why. Shrubs and grass scratch at her legs and skirt, but none of it stops her. She’s utterly compelled to keep running, following something she doesn’t understand. The feeling from before has gotten worse, clawing at her heart.

The sound of water, the stone ruin they’d come upon, it fired something old within her, like a muscle memory she hadn't used in a long time.

Through the trees, a lake glitters ahead, and it only makes her run faster. She hears Toshiro call out behind her, sounding alarmed and confused.

The trees and foliage thin out the closer she gets, until all she can see and hear is the waves lapping on the shore. The stony bank rushes up to greet her, and she comes a skidding, abrupt stop before she falls into the water.

“What’s gotten into you?!” Hitsugaya exclaims from behind her. “You can’t just run off like that!”

She ignores him, is too caught up in the sights and smells. The tree line, the rocky bank, and beyond them are the valley’s mountains. The lake is shaped like a tear drop, wide up one end and narrow down the other, likely leading to a river or some larger body of water. There’s a small pier on the wider end, and judging from the bleached patches of wood, it hasn’t been maintained. She looks beyond it, tracing along the tree line. There are pockets where there’s no flora, as if something had once been there but has since crumbled away, left to age and vanish with time.

Something had been there, something she knew.

She lets out shuddering breaths, inhaling in the fresh, floral air. The smell of several flowers, some dangling from the trees, others from the shrubs that are dotted within the forest. It’s the smell of a distant time.

“I know this place,” she says, breathless. “I’ve been…” She shakes her head, dislodging a tear from the corner of her eye. “But that’s impossible. I-I’ve never been here.”

Hitsugaya’s shoes crunch in the pebbled bank as he comes to her side. He watches her for a moment longer, a deep furrow in his brow, then looks around the area. “What makes you so sure?”

“I-I’ve never heard this town,” she insists. “I’ve never even had to come to this part of the World of the Living for missions! Yet, I know it. I drew it! I…” She sobs without tears. “I’m so confused.”

She’d hoped coming here would explain why she felt these strange emotions, why she had drawn a picture of this lake and forest. She doesn’t understand the ache in her heart or the threat of tears. Her head is light, bordering on spinning.

The gentle but firm grip around her forearm bring her back to her sense. She meets her friend’s concerned gaze. She’s mostly found him to be a calming presence, and looking his eyes and focusing on her breath, it’s no different now. "Shiro-chan..."

He doesn't react to nickname. She might've laughed if not for the situation.

She thinks back on what he’d said before about subordinate who also experienced the same emotions as her. It occurs to her again that Hitsugaya can’t fully understand what’s happening to her. His life has always been in the Soul Society. He had no Human life to forget.

Yet here he is, trying to understand, and how had she reacted? She bows her head and rests a hand on top of his. “I’m sorry. I said some harsh words to you before.”

“Forget about it.”

“No, it wasn’t right. I don’t know what possessed me to come here. I don’t know why I thought I’d know what this place is if I came here. If anything, it’s just made me more confused.” She shakes her head. “I took out my frustration on you, I shouldn’t have. And I shouldn’t have come here, either. I really am sorry."

Hitsugaya breaks his gaze away, staring off to the side. For a time, there’s just the lapping of water, the distant calls and chirping of birds, and a gentle breeze that sways the branches of the trees and flora.

“You filled our sketchbook with so many drawings of places and people I didn’t know.” The furrow in his brow deepens. "I felt...I wish I could..." he clenches his jaw, clearly frustrated he can't bring himself to fully express how he felt about it. Still, the fact he's trying warms her heart.

“I wouldn’t know anything from those drawings anymore.” She shakes her head. “I wish I knew more. I wish I knew why know this place. I don’t know what to do, Hitsugaya-kun.”

“Are you certain about that?”

Is she? On one hand, coming here had only left her with more questions and confusing emotions. On the other, it doesn’t feel right to leave yet, as if something keeps her tethered here.

“What would you do?” As soon as she asks the question, she wants to take it back. He isn’t like most Souls. He has no earthly connection of any kind; no ancestors or memories to forget from another world. For him, there is the older woman he calls ‘Baa-chan’. She has no bloodties to him, but she is family to him nevertheless.

She can tell he's weighing whether they should leave or stay. She lifts her hands off his and slips out of his grip. “Let’s just head back.”

He sighs. “It’s not what you want though, is it?”

She presses her lips together. “What good will staying here do?”

“You tell me.”

She can’t help but chuckle, and the small twitch in the corner of his lip only makes her smile involuntarily. “You’re not being fair right now.”

“I think I’m being very fair. This is your decision, Hinamori. You’ve clearly been to this place before in your past and returning to it is making you existential. What say do I have in that?”

"But you do! I feel like I'm dragging you into this."

"I'm not a child anymore, I chose to come here."

He’s right really, but she still expected him to try and convince her to leave. He can worry too much, after all. But then again, the eleven yearlong peace has also mellowed him out a little. What moves her more is that he’s willing to stay and see whichever choice she makes through to the end. He’s always been like that, but it never ceases to amaze her how kind and loyal he can be.

She looks to the pier. “Maybe we could walk over there? I don’t really know why, but…”

“All right.”

Before she sets for the pier, she gestures to the parcel he holds. “Do you want to put that in my bag? You shouldn’t have to carry that the whole time.”

She nearly frowns at his hesitation. Before she can ask, he leans towards her bag. “Sure.”

She opens it for him and he drops the parcel in. “I’ll give it back to you when we get return to the town.” It’s only then it occurs to her he’d actually bought something. She grins as she starts up the bank and he follows. “What is it, by the way?”

“A book.”

“Oh? Are you getting back into reading?”

“Something like that.”

She pouts at his vagueness. “Aw, come on, you can tell me.”

“I will later. In the meantime, lets get to the pier.”

She decides to let it go. It had been a small diversion from the tumult of emotions going through her. She finds, however, walking along the bank with only their food steps and the sounds of nature is somewhat calming. If it weren’t for how she is feelings, she could take in just how beautiful the area is. She had tried to draw it from memory, but if only she could sketch it now.

Does she want a memento of this place? That begs the question: what happens when she leaves? Will she long for this place for the rest of her days? The thought of that makes her clutch a hand to her chest. She’s dealt with far worse, but knowing this place could haunt her for decades to comes fill her with a dreadful anxiety.

“Hinamori?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m fine.”

She senses he wants to ask more, but he says nothing. Again, she’s reminded of his kindness. She presses her lips together hard to ignore the burn of tears tingling at the backs of her eyes. She’ll have to make it up to him somehow. None of this was right, not when today was about having fun and relaxing together.

As they near the pier, her heart flutters anew. “Do you think it’s safe to walk on?”

“Only one way to find out.”

She raises a brow at him.

Hitsugaya shrugs. “It doesn’t look that old. Besides, the lake seems shallow, you'll barely get wet.”

Is he trying to lift her spirits again? It doesn’t quite work this time, but she still indulges him with a small smile.

They comes to a stop where the ground transaction between dirt and wooden planks. Hinamori twists slowly in all directions. Behind them is one of the patches without trees. To the untrained eye, there’s nothing to see here, but she notices the strange bumps in the dirt and the odd what a hedge is shaped. Moss and a shrub have completely overtaken a featureless stone sculptures – not unlike the one that saw before – and there’s raised lines running through the dirt and grass. The shrubbery had completely grown over something round and wooden propped against a tree; she can’t make out what it is.

“I don’t think anyone has been here for a long time,” she says.

“Given there’s no official path to here, yes,” Hitsugaya replies.

“I wonder why?”

He walks over to the strange shrub. “Some things are just left to be forgotten. The World of Living is not like ours. The Humans move on quicker.”

The flicker of sympathy in her chest almost makes her forget about why she’d come over here. Still, she offers, “But we do move on, for better or worse or without even realising.”

He looks over his shoulder at her. His expression unreadable, but his usual frown has softened away.

Swallowing against the growing tightness in her throat, she returns her attention to the pier. She places a careful step on to the wooden planks. At the next, there’s a groan. Still, it feels stable.

She treads the rest of the way slowly, coming to a stop near the end. The view is even more beautiful from here, giving her a vista that’s only the lake below, the trees in the middle, and the sky. The clouds have gotten taller since they first arrived.

Her heart seizes and the air is squeezed out of her lungs. A spark. No, a flash, like the afterimage of a lantern after she blinks – the form is there for a second, but quickly dissolves into something shapeless, and then into only colors that fade into nothing. Two hands, one smaller than the other – she’s certain hers is the bigger one – and the lake in the lower half, the line of trees and bank in the middle, and high above is the sky. The hands reach – no, one points – to the clouds towering over the forest and reflecting in the water. The arms are clad is yukata sleeves, here’s in white with Sakura blossoms, the other in yellow and white flowers. Is there a boat on the waters too? With a fishing net cast out on one side? There’s laughter, childish and high-pitched.

She’s held by the memory, unable to breathe for a second that seems to stretch on forever. There’s clouds, but they’re not from the memory. She’s back in the present, Hitsugaya standing at her side. She gasps, trying to catch her breath and hunches over.

“Hey!” He shifts to stand in front of her and holds her shoulders. “What’s going on?”

She wets her lips before she looks to him. “I think…I think I remembered something," she struggles to get out. “I think it’s of me and…a sister?”

She can’t explain how she knows the other hand belongs to a sibling, but saying it aloud makes tears suddenly form again. “I had a sister.”

Hitsugaya only nods, prompting her to keep going.

“I had a sister, and now…she’s gone. I had…parents too.” It’s so obvious, and yet it’s as if it’s only occurring to her now. She’s never had to think about since losing her memories. Her heart hammers against her chest and she’s struggling to regain her breath. “I died before them. I have no idea what happened to them. I could have seen or met them in the Soul Society and never even known it.” A more horrifying thought takes hold. “They might even be Shinigami right now and I’d never know it.”

“Hinamori.” Hitsugaya says her name more pressingly. “Slow down. Breathe.”

“I can’t I –" Tears blur in the corners of her eyes. "What can I do? They’re gone. What am I supposed to do?”

She grunts at the sudden cold pressed near the nape of her neck. Hitsugaya’s hands had left her shoulders and now hold the underside of her jaw. Her tears stop, her mouth agape, but her breath returns.

Seeing her calm down, Hitsugaya’s gaze turns apologetic and he sips his hands away. “You decide, and tell me what I can do."

She’s going in circles. How can she come to terms with all of this? The wind picks up, throwing her ponytail off her shoulder and billowing her skirt. Leaves and petals scatter in the air, some falling on the lake and others amongst the grass.

She takes one of his hands and squeezes it. “Thank you, Shiro-chan.”

Letting go, she walks off the pier and he follows. She goes to the ruins, coming to a stop in the middle of the raised lines. It feels right to stand here, she can’t explain it. “I think there used to be some kind of boat shed here. I’m guessing my… family would come here to fish.” She shrugs weakly. “I don’t know for sure, I’m only guessing.”

She looks to the strange shrub. When approaching it, she can’t explain the uncertainty that it evokes within her. There’s nothing threatening about it, but there’s nothing familiar or knowing about it either.

The shrubbery is more like vines, with branches winding around the tree trunk, and it’s leaves shiny and big. She pulls at a clump, breaking it apart with ease. She takes a few more handfuls while Hitsugaya comes to stand behind her. Again she expects him to voice his concern, but he remains silent.

When she brushes several branches aside, she can make out what’s beneath. The wheel of a cart. It’s so aged she’s certain even applying the tiniest bit of pressure to any part of it would reduce it to splinters beneath her fingertips. Yet it still had its shape.

She thinks about her sketchbooks, stored in the back of her closet and collecting dust. She hasn’t looked at her first ones in years, and she didn’t have any reason not to. But maybe, she was scared to look and remember a time when she had memories of another time. It shouldn’t matter to her, that life ended, had been gone for close to a century.

She wonders if she was blessed or cursed with remembering her old life when she came to the Soul Society. The desperation she’d had the time when trying to draw everything from that life tells it’s the latter, yet she can’t discount the former either. To know one has lived a life before this, no matter how short, to have experienced things – good and bad and somewhere in between – that they may be experienced only once or for the first time again.

She looks back to Hitsugaya then. She’d experienced a lot with him, he makes up a lot of her childhood memories. In the first years of knowing him, the special and novelty of discovering a new world captivated her, but as both wore off, it made a part of her long for the place in her memories. She’d wanted to go back, until the memories went and she didn’t know what she could miss from her life as a Human.

Perhaps this is what all these emotions are, returning to her after all this time. The grief of a girl who wanted to go back, now has to find it’s all gone and the shame having forgotten about it.

It couldn’t be helped, was inevitable for every Soul. Hers. Her Human family too. The Soul Society is so vast that it’s incredibly rare for one to find their family from when they were a Human. She recalls rumors in the beginning of lieutenancy that Ikkaku had a younger sister he’d reunited after she became a Shinigami – despite how dismissive many were at the time, it turned out to be true.

However, in the event it old families found each other, it’s not always for the best. She’d heard whispers in her Academy days of Shinigami born in two very different districts, and finding each other again, only to resent each other for being born in a district higher or lower than each other. She even heard a story where an officer found their brother, only for them to die by his hands because he resented him for ‘leaving their family behind’. The validity of such stories is always contested, so rare is it for Shinigami to find old family members.

If she did meet her sister or parents again, she can’t say for certain how she will react. Would the memories of her previous life come flooding back to her? Would she simply just know it’s them but not remember a thing? Would they know who she is?

She stands, not breaking her gaze from Hitsugaya. She has this life to live, to be with him and everyone else. New family and friends to make and be with, and perhaps, one day even, someone to spend the rest of her life with until she’s reincarnated back to the World of the Living and starts that new life.

Hitsugaya opens his mouth, about to speak, but she stops him when she strides forward and pulls him into a hug. “I’m okay now,” she reassures. “I think I’ve figured it out.”

Hitsugaya is too stunned by her actions to speak at first. Eventually, he relaxes but doesn’t hug her back. “You have?”

She nods. “Thank you for coming here with me. I couldn’t have done this without you, really.”

Several heartbeats pass his arm come loosely around her shoulders and torso. She can sense his confusion, and why wouldn’t he be? It’s like the subordinate he mentioned: how can she express this experience in words? Could she even draw it?

She pulls back just far enough to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry again that I derailed our day.” She offers a rueful smile. “It’s hard to explain. I may never be able to –”

“It can’t be helped.” His words would sound cold if not for how soft his tone was. “So long as you’re all right, then it’s only for you to know.”

She blinks, stunned at first, then her smile widens into a grin. “Thank you.”

But it's not as simple as that. Not yet. Time would help it to make it that way. No, right now, it's too much. Her grin wavers, and that grief, that overwhelming shame, crashes over her like a wave. She bows her head, and the tears fall. "I'm..."

Hitsugaya isn't alarmed, doesn't even utter a word. He tugs on her arms, signalling her to return to the hug, and she does, sobbing into his shoulder.

If only he could've met her old family. If only her two lives could exist at once. If only she didn't know such feelings as these. It's life. It's hurt and relief. It's knowing he's here, has always been, even at her worst moments.

She stands with him for several minutes, coming up when she's certain there' s no tears left to shed. She wipes her face with the back of her arm and quietly apologies for wetting his shirt's shoulder. He says nothing, only raising a hand to catch the few stray tears clinging to the edge of her jaw.

After a beat, they watch the waves of the lake, the swaying of the flora and trees, and the slow migration of the clouds across the sky. Perhaps she should find a way to say goodbye to this place, to this old life. She can’t think of a way, and perhaps leaving with someone from her new life is fitting.

It feels like the right time to leave, but they remain for quite some time, even ending up sitting on the bank in companionable silence. In a moment of boldness, she rests her head on his shoulder, exhaustion slowly seeping into her. He doesn’t go rigid like she half expects.

“Will you come back?”

She glances at Hitsugaya, but he continues to stare out at the lake. He’s always had a striking appearance, but it’s in moment like these she questions if her feelings of friendship are something more.

“No,” she eventually answers. “I won’t.”

When she leaves, will the memories that led her to this place disappear again? Will she recall this day with fondness or melancholy? She doesn’t know, only time will tell.

An hour later, when they make their way back to the hidden path, she only looks back to the pier once. The feeling of rather than the visual of the memory burns in the back of her mind. It might be the last time she remembers it. It could be gone forever, buried like the wheel beneath the vines and flora. There will be no traces of it left in this world or in the Soul Society. She had already forgotten it once, and she will again.

It didn’t mean it didn’t happen or never mattered. So many things are forgotten, big and small, and yet, they live on in some way, consciously or not. She carries the memory and her old life in every step she takes into her new one without knowing. Every experience, remembered or not, has made her who she is.

________________________

Later, after coming through the senkaimon, giving her gigai back, and then parting ways with Hitsugaya, she returns to her room. Exhausted, she considers not joining everyone in the mess hall for dinner, but she’s hungry and it might concern them she isn’t there.

The clothes and bag she’d worn are her own, bought while on a mission in the World of Living just over a decade ago. She changes back into her uniform, ready to go down to the mess hall until she remembers her bag. She lifts it from her bed and takes out the boxed-up mug. She'd strongly considered giving it to him once they returned, another apology for how today turned out.

 She makes a mental note get wrapping paper tomorrow in her break before putting it in her closet. It’ll be there for a while, but at least she doesn’t have to worry about getting him a birthday present for this year.

She goes to take out the bags of candy and the hedge-hog shaped cookie, but halts at the parcel. I forgot to give it back to him! Taking it out, she drops her bag and makes for the door, intending to sprint to Tenth Division before going to dinner.

The tag on the parcel flips over, and the characters written on the back make her pause. It’s her name, and beneath it ‘Sorry it’s late’. She frowns. This is meant for me?

Thinking back to before they parted, Hitsugaya had stared at her bag for longer than she expected. She wouldn’t have needed to remind him of parcel, he knew it was still in there.

She walks backwards until the backs of her knees hit her bed and she sits down. What had he meant by ‘Sorry it’s late’? White day had been and gone, there wasn’t any special event where she was expecting anything from him. If only he were here so could ask. Shell have to ask him when he sees her next.

 She pulls on the string bow, then tears away the brown paper. A book. One she’s never heard of before. The cover shows a green valley and sky sparsely clouded. A woman stands in the foreground, back facing the reader, her head tilted upwards. The title, Gone with the Clouds, and the author’s name are high above the woman, making appear she’s looking at them.

She raises her head to the bookcase against her wall. There’s two rows of books, with a third starting to be occupied by the last three novels she’d gotten – one she bought earlier in the year, the other two collections of haiku poems from Izuru for her birthday. It contends with a purple vase that needs flowers in it and the gift from Hitsugaya and Rangiku for one of her birthdays of tiny figurines of a boy, short-haired and in a blue kimono, and a girl, pig-tailed and in a floral white and red kimono.

On other shelves are old copies of the Seireitei Communication that feature articles or creative contributions from her friends, a tea set she’d bought but has yet to use, the wooden box of color pencils given to her by Shinji last year for her birthday, the box of her colored and black charols, a stack of unused sketchbooks, a baking recipe book, a clay Chappy made by Ichika, a star plushies given by Kazui, a framed photo of her and then Women’s Association at their festival stall, the chest with her old hair accessories – her hair cloth, ribbon, clip, and a bandana given to her by Renji – and an lavender scented candle she’d last lit a few years ago.

She rises from her bed and goes over to slide the book in next to haiku collections.

A birthday gift. It’s a birthday gift.

She lets out a chuckle at the realisation. Honestly, he couldn’t have written it on the tag? This years had been like one of the few others where she didn’t get a gift from him, until today almost three weeks later. Maybe he’d intended to give it to her himself, but then her search for the past diverted things. In the end, she got a memento for this day, and there’d be no way to detach it from it. Not that she’d want to, because for better or worse, today happened.

She slides the book on to the shelf, becoming a part of everything she’d either brought herself or received from someone else. All from her life here.

[heebiejeebiesart]

Remember who you are...

Ya know when you get an artistic vision that won't leave you alone until you create it? Yea well that happened to me while listening to the Lion King soundtrack mkay byyeee~

[jennycalendar]

the master wearing giles as a mask oh i’m gonna be SICK

[diseaseriddencube]

girls literally only want one thing and it's fucking disgusting

[life size replica of Courier's bike]

[arielluva]

grief is such a weird emotion bc i can be fine most of the time even if it think about it, but then sometimes thinking about it digs it up all over again

[waterbearable]

ok god damn game HUGE. I did poke around and spoil myself a teeny just bc I have heard of a couple instances of ppl accidentally coming back to the Grove and it's already locked down. and I thiiiiink I should be OK? started the goblin camp, killed priestess gut, got fucking ritualistically smacked (which. astarion loved. scream.), and just rescued halsin. took a long rest in the gob camp bc I had been adventuring for a bit before and was low on spell slots. but more importantly.

i'm 20+ hrs into act one, still haven't finished dealing with the Grove situation, and apparently there's MORE big things in act 1??? I almost started the creche quest but reloaded bc laezel ran off and it seemed like a Big Thing (and again, not entirely sure if doing that before I dealt w the Grove would doom the tiefs). But goddaaaamn. Big game. I KNOW there's stuff I haven't touched yet, bc I happened upon the cave w the gnolls outside and. That felt like a pretty dangerous encounter lmao so I just. Walked back out. And there's other shit before act 2 apparently.

But other than that ive: fought harpies, rescued the windmill gnome, killed the hag, killed the spider matriarch (hellish. terrifying), almost died in an inn fire, killed the folks hunting karlach. sooo much and I still have the goblins to deal with!!! so much!!!!

[herisms]

grandma dog woke me up at 3am this morning, so unless i get a random surge of energy i might not be writing much today

[neverendingparable]

Honestly if Darkness ever comes back, we need to throw a party or something

[asexualchad]

when you've been lurking a popular Blogger™ and the fan playlists are.... bad.... then you start reading the fanfiction recommendations and they are.......... worse..... and it dawns on you

[fuxking-witchy]

You should post more!

You should mind ya fucking business! 😇🖕🏻

[nataliedecorsair]

When you're out on the desert ambushing your enemies at night, but it's going pretty slow. Yeah, usually things are fun, but sometimes you have to lift a finger to create some action...

And sure, usually she is the one who bamboozles, so look how the tables have turned! also, there's no frog here, but there's another critter lurking somewhere More art is here Info about the characters is here Harpy childhood is here

P.S. - inspired by the IRL events with my husband & me & our cats lol

[d1stalker]

Suspension Bridge Effect [Logan Howlett]

Summary: You saved one of the younger mutants during a mission, and now he's obsessed with you, much to Logan's dismay

Warnings: mainly Logan POV, jealousy, cuteness, fem!reader WC: 2.6k - MASTERLIST

----

Logan’s losing it; his thoughts are spiralling to the point where he wonders if he should be locked up.

At least, that’s what he thinks is happening as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. You’re standing near the edge of the mansion's garden, laughing softly as the kid—Johnny, a younger teenage mutant—tries to hand you a bouquet of hastily picked flowers. His face is flushed, eyes wide with admiration, and he’s practically vibrating with nervous energy as he looks up at you.

This punk, this moron, this lovesick blockhead, has been glued to your side ever since you saved him during the last mission.

It was supposed to be a standard run-of-the-mill rescue operation, but when things went south, and he was cornered, you swooped in like the hero you are and got him out unscathed. Now, the kid’s been following you around like a lost puppy, trying to win your attention, your approval—your everything. And it’s infuriating.

Logan can feel his hands clench into fists as he watches Johnny offer you the worst attempt at a bouquet he's ever seen, and sees the youngster's face turning a deeper shade of red as he mumbles something the older man can’t quite hear. Probably some dumb compliment, he thinks bitterly. The kid’s got no game.

You smile at Johnny. It's that soft, kind smile that always makes Logan’s heart skip a beat. But this time, all it does is fuel the fire raging within. He knows that smile isn’t just for him, but damn it, he wishes it were.

He wishes you’d tell the kid to scram, that you’re already spoken for, that you have a lovely boyfriend who could put together a way better bunch of flowers, but instead, you take the flowers with a gentle laugh, thanking the goblin like he’s just handed you a priceless treasure.

And somehow, the torment is never ending, it seems. Because later in the day he find’s himself lurking at the doorway of the mansion library, watching as you and Johnny sit together, heads bent over some book he know knows the little gremlin is just pretending to be interested in. That brat is soaking up every second of your attention, hanging on your every word, and it’s driving Logan up the wall.

“He’s just a kid,” you keep saying whenever he grumbles about it, but you don’t see it. You don’t see the way the bastard’s eyes light up whenever you smile at him, or how he leans in just a little too close when you’re explaining something to him. You don’t notice the small touches—the way his hand lingers on your arm when he’s pulling you somewhere, the way he looks at you like you’re the centre of his universe.

Logan sees it all, because he’s been there before. He knows exactly what Johnny’s feeling because he felt the same way when he first met you. Still does. It's that intense, all-consuming crush that makes you do stupid things just to be near the person you can’t stop thinking about.

“Logan, you’re staring,” Jean’s voice cuts through his thoughts, and he turns to see her smirking at him from across the hallway.

“I’m not starin’. Just keepin’ an eye on things,” he mutters, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

She raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You’re jealous.”

He scowls at her. “I ain’t jealous of some kid.”

“Sure you’re not,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Why don’t you just talk to her about it?”

Clenching his jaw, he knows she’s right but not wanting to admit it. “She doesn’t get it. She thinks it’s cute.”

“Maybe if you told her how you’re feeling, she’d understand,” Jean suggests gently, though there’s a knowing look in her eyes.

Huffing and turning away from the library, Logan has decided that he’s had enough of standing on the sidelines. He needs to do something before he loses his mind entirely. But it seems he can’t escape this torture, because he can’t even get five minutes alone with you.

He tried to get your attention after you finished up teaching your class, but before he could, the little devil ran in front of him and got it first. His eye twitches as he watches Johnny offer you another “gift,” this time a poorly folded paper crane. You take it with a smile, thanking him kindly, and Logan grits his teeth so hard he swears his molars might shatter.

“Hey, kid,” He grumbles, stepping forward with a growl in his throat that would send most people running. “Don’t you got somewhere else to be?”

Johnny looks up, momentarily startled by the sharp tone, but then just gives a nervous chuckle and scratches the back of his head. “Uh, no, sir. I was just, um, hanging out with her.”

“Yeah, well, she’s got things to do. Don’t you, darlin’?” Logan’s eyes flicker to you, hoping you’ll catch the hint and send the kid on his way.

But you don’t. You just laugh. A musical sound that makes him want to clamp his hand over your mouth because why should that devil's spawn get to hear your beautiful voice? He’s truly about to lose it. 

“It’s fine, babe. Johnny’s just being sweet.”

Sweet. Logan wants to snort. Sweet is one word for it. Obnoxious, irritating, and clingy are a few others that come to mind.

“You got a crush or somethin’, boy?” His tone is laced with a dangerous edge as he crosses his arms over his chest, towering over the knucklehead. He’s trying not to outright scare him, but damn, he’s close to it.

Johnny turns beet red, stammering, “N-no, I just… she saved me, and I just wanted to say thank you, that’s all!”

Narrowing his eyes, a low snarl rumbles from his chest, and Logan takes a deliberate step forward, but before he can do more, you place a hand on his arm, pulling him back.

“Logan, that’s enough,” you say firmly, giving him a pointed look. 

Well, there goes another piece of his sanity.

You’re too kind, too understanding. You just don't get it. To you, it’s just an innocent crush, something harmless, something that makes you smile. You think it’s nothing, and that only makes his blood boil more.

“Fine,” he finally mutters, stepping back, though his eyes never leave the teenager’s. Johnny seems to take that as some kind of begrudging acceptance and gives you another shy smile before scurrying off, likely to find the next token of his gratitude to bring to you.

Once he’s gone, Logan lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. “This is drivin’ me nuts, you know that?”

You just chuckle again, stepping closer to him and slipping your arms around his waist. “It’s just a phase, I’m sure. He’ll get over it.”

Wrapping his arms around you tightly and pulling you in close, he feels a little bit better in your embrace, but his eyes still track where Johnny disappeared into the mansion. “He better. ’Cause if he doesn’t, I might lose my damn mind.”

You tilt your head up, kissing his jaw softly. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

He huffs, not wanting to admit it, but the truth is written all over his face. “Maybe a little.”

Smiling, you lean up to kiss him properly. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Logan kisses you back, a little more possessively than usual, as if to remind himself that you’re his. And even as you melt into him, he can’t help but keep one eye open, scanning the garden for any sign of that kid returning. He might be crazy, but he’ll be damned if he lets some lovestruck teenager get between him and the woman he loves.

—

The next morning, the mansion is buzzing with its usual activity. You and Logan head to the dining hall for breakfast, with him looking a little more relaxed after a night of holding you close. But the moment you step into the room, he spots a certain demon sitting at a table, eyes locked on you as if he’s been waiting for this very moment.

Groaning under his breath, Logan mutters, “Not again,” before guiding you to a table near the windows, hoping Johnny won’t follow.

You take your seat, smiling up at your boyfriend as he pulls out his chair, and for a brief second, he dares to believe that he might actually get to enjoy a quiet breakfast with you. But just as he’s about to sit down beside you, Johnny swoops in out of nowhere, plopping down in Logan’s seat with a grin like he’s just won the lottery.

“Morning!” He chirps, completely oblivious to the thunderous look on the other man’s face.

Freezing in his place, Logan glares at the kid who’s now sitting where he was supposed to be. He mentally cycles through a list of unflattering nicknames—Useless Idiot, Captain Obnoxious, Motherfu—but none of them seem quite strong enough to capture his current feelings. “You’re in my seat, kid.”

Johnny blinks up at him, feigning innocence. “Oh, uh, sorry. I didn’t see your name on it.”

You can practically see the self-control it takes for Logan not to pick the kid up and toss him across the room. His fingers twitch at his sides, his claws itching to come out, but he holds back. For your sake, and only your sake.

“Johnny,” you start, trying to keep your voice gentle but firm, “you do know he is my boyfriend, right? And even if he wasn’t, I’m a bit too, uh, old for you?”

The young mutant's eyes widen, and for a split second, you think you might have gotten through to him. But then he glances over at Logan, his face scrunching up like he’s just eaten something sour.

“Yeah, but he’s, like, hella old,” The idiot blurts out, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as if the mutant standing right there can’t hear every word.

Logan’s expression darkens, a storm brewing in his eyes as his jaw tightens to the point where you can almost hear his teeth grinding. Hella old? Is this guy serious?

He's dealt with all kinds of enemies—mutants, monsters, government assassins—but nothing, nothing has tested his patience like this hellspawn has been. “What did you just say?” he growls menacingly.

Johnny, either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, doesn’t back down. “I mean, no offense, but you’ve got a lot of… uh, experience, you know? And you’re like centuries old. Maybe she needs someone closer to her age.”

That’s the last straw. Logan’s eyes flash with anger and something else—something more vulnerable that you rarely see. A part of him knows the gremlin’s just talking out of his ass, but the words hit a little too close to home, stirring up old insecurities he usually keeps buried deep.

Without another word, he slams his hand down onto the table, the sound echoing through the dining hall like a gunshot. The room falls into stunned silence as he then storms out, his footsteps heavy and his anger radiating off of him in waves. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t acknowledge the whispers that follow in his wake. He just needs to get away before he does something he’ll regret.

“Logan, wait—” you call after him, but he’s already halfway out the door.

You turn back to Johnny, who’s now looking a little less confident and a lot more like he might have made a mistake. Sighing, you lean forward with a serious expression. “You can’t just say things like that. He’s not just my boyfriend. He’s the person I love.”

Looking down at the table, his face falls, and he begins fiddling with the napkin in his lap. “I didn’t mean to make him mad. I just thought—You saved me and I felt something…I thought maybe you’d feel something for me too.”

You soften, reaching out to pat his hand. “Johnny, you’re a sweet kid, but you’ve got to understand that Logan’s the one I’m with, and no one can replace him.”

He nods slowly, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. “I get it,” he mumbles. “I just…”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “You’ll find someone your own age who’s perfect for you. But for now, you need to give us some space, okay?”

Johnny nods again, this time more resolutely. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Just… try not to instigate anything else. I’ll go talk to him.” You give him one last reassuring smile before heading toward the exit.

When you step out into the hallway, you barely have a second to process your thoughts and decide where to look before you’re suddenly pressed up against the wall. A gasp escapes your lips, but it’s quickly swallowed by Logan’s mouth on yours. The surprise melts away as the intensity of his kiss overtakes your senses, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

His kiss is possessive and fierce. You can feel the frustration, the jealousy, the need to claim what’s his, pouring out of him with every movement of his lips against yours. For a moment, you lose yourself in the heat of it, letting the world around you fade as you focus solely on him.

Then, through the haze of the kiss, the practical part of your brain kicks in. You pull back just enough to murmur against his lips, “Logan… we’re gonna get caught.”

He growls softly, his lips trailing down to your jaw, his breath hot against your skin. “Let them see,” he mutters between kisses. “Maybe then that damn dunce will get the hint.”

You laugh, though the sound is cut off as he captures your lips again, his hands gripping your waist as if he’s afraid to let go. “Babe, really,” you whisper, trying to sound serious but failing as your body responds eagerly to his touch. “People are gonna see…”

“I don’t care,” he grumbles, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear, making you involuntarily shiver against him. “Shoulda thrown that little shit out on his ass… let him know who you belong to.”

“You’re jealous of a teenager,” you tease, though the words come out breathless and almost lost in the intensity of the moment.

Logan pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark. “Don’t like him sniffin’ around you, thinkin’ he’s got a shot.”

You smile up at him, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him back down for another kiss. “You don't need to feel threatened by him. You’re the only one I want.”

He huffs softly, his lips brushing against yours as he mutters, “Damn right I am.”

“C’mon,” you murmur, gently pushing against his chest. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private, huh?”

He hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickering back toward the dining hall, as if half-expecting Johnny to come barreling out any second. But then he nods, taking your hand and leading you down the hallway, away from prying eyes. His grip on your hand is tight, territorial, and you can’t help but smile as you follow him.

As you walk together, you give his hand a squeeze. “Logan?”

“Yeah?” He glances over at you, his expression softening slightly.

“I love you, you know that?” You say it with that pretty grin of yours, and the way his eyes warm in response makes your heart flutter.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice quieter now, more sincere. “I love you too.”

The remaining tension melts away, leaving just the two of you walking hand in hand, ready to steal a few more precious moments together.

----

A/N: this was really fun to write!

[mioakem]

Help today in history me and my friend were saying how ppl should just say what they like and then she doubled back and said that actually you should be embarrassed of some things and this other girl who I’ll just call Jessie was like “oh like what?” And I said “oh like if ur a fr hardcore furry or some shit” and then she straight up stared at me and was like “I’m a furry”

[just-aake]

A Feline Connection

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha makes a new furry little friend and becomes captivated by its owner along the way.

Masterlist Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Warnings: light fluff, light angst

Words: 4270

Natasha shoots upright in her bed, her heart racing and cold sweat clinging to her skin. Her hand instinctively reaches for the knife tucked nearby, gripping it tight as she scans the room, her pulse thundering in her ears.

She’s met with silence. The darkened space of her room at the Compound was empty of any threat. No footsteps, no shadows lurking—just her.

Exhaling shakily, Natasha lowers the blade, pressing her free hand against her eyes, as though she could push away the remnants of the nightmare from her mind.

The memories linger, though. They always do.

A quick glance at the clock tells her it’s 4:00 A.M. Too early for anyone else to be awake. 

But for Natasha, this was normal.

Sighing, she swings her legs out of bed, trying not to dwell on how long it had taken to fall asleep in the first place. 

Three hours of sleep was better than nothing. 

She dresses quickly, pulling on her jogging clothes in automatic, well-practiced movements, intent on escaping the restlessness that always comes with her dreams.

The sky was still dark when she went outside, the first hints of light barely on the horizon, but Natasha set off anyway, her pace swift and determined.

With every stride, the tension in her body begins to ease, her breathing falling into a steady rhythm that mirrored the pounding of her feet against the pavement.

This was her moment of relief—where she could forget, even if just for a while—pushing her body harder, faster, hoping to leave behind the lingering shadows of her past.

After a few miles, Natasha slows to a stop beside a tree, her breath coming in even pants as she stretches out her arms.

The world was still quiet, save for the distant rustling of leaves.

Then, faintly, she hears something.

A soft, distressed sound.

She freezes, tilting her head to listen. 

There it is again—a tiny cry coming from somewhere nearby.

From above? 

Her gaze lifts upward, and there, high up in the tree, a little black cat clings precariously to a branch, its claws struggling to maintain a grip on the rough bark. 

Natasha blinks in surprise, but before she can react to the sight, the cat lets out a desperate yowl and slips.  

Moving on instinct, Natasha surges forward and catches the cat just before it hits the ground. She cradles the small creature against her chest securely.

“You’re okay,” she murmurs, her fingers gently checking for any injuries. Its fur is soft and clean—not a stray, then. 

Her suspicion is confirmed when she notices the sleek collar around its neck, the gold tag gleaming faintly in the early light.

Natasha tilts the tag to read the name engraved on it.

“Widow?” 

An amused smirk tugs at her lips at the irony.

At the sound of its name, the cat looks up at her with wide, inquisitive yellow eyes and lets out a tiny, plaintive meow.

Natasha couldn’t help but chuckle softly, sinking down to sit against the tree with the cat still nestled in her arms. 

“What were you doing up there?” she asks, her voice a soft murmur as she scratches behind its ears.

The cat responds with a long, dramatic meow as if offering some elaborate excuse for its predicament.

Natasha smiles softly in amusement before glancing at the tag again, searching for any contact information but finding none.

“Well, you obviously belong to someone,” Natasha muses, lifting the cat to meet its gaze. “They must really trust you to make it back on your own, huh?” 

In response, the cat swats playfully at Natasha’s face, its soft paws barely grazing her skin.

Natasha shakes her head with a smile and tries to set the cat down to let it go on its way, but to her surprise, the cat clings to her, its claws digging into the front of her shirt.

“Hey, easy now,” Natasha grumbles, gently trying to pry the cat off, but it stubbornly clings to her, refusing to let go.

“Really? This is the thanks I get for saving you?” she deadpans, raising an eyebrow at the tiny creature. 

The cat chirps, blinking up at her innocently before nuzzling against her chin. 

“Alright, I surrender,” Natasha sighs, settling back against the tree in resignation, her fingers absentmindedly stroking the cat’s fur.  

The warmth of the tiny creature in Natasha’s arms is unexpectedly comforting. Before she realizes it, her eyelids grow heavy, and exhaustion finally pulls her under.

It’s not until a soft movement against her arms stirs her that Natasha blinks awake, momentarily disoriented. As her vision clears, the first thing she sees is your face, watching her from a nearby bench, chin resting casually on your hand.

“You have my cat,” you say, your tone flat but not unkind.

Natasha blinks again, still shaking off the grogginess from the unexpected nap. She glances down to find Widow still nestled in her arms, staring up at her with wide, expectant eyes.

As she processes your words, Natasha loosens her hold and sits up straighter.

Widow hops onto her lap, stretching languidly and letting out a tiny yawn, completely at ease.

“Your cat was stuck in a tree,” Natasha explains, her voice still rough with sleep. “I caught her when she fell.”

You raise an eyebrow, your gaze flicking to the lazily stretching cat. 

“You do know they land on their feet, right?” 

Natasha opens her mouth to argue but pauses, catching the subtle teasing in your tone. She leans back with a small smirk, deciding to tease you back.

“Widow is kind of a strange name for a cat.”

At her remark, you scoff and cross your arms, leaning back on the bench with a playful glint in your eyes. 

“Wow, so you’re a thief and you’re judgy. Maybe next time I won’t be so nice and let you finish your nap.”

“I didn’t steal your cat,” Natasha retorts, unable to suppress the slight curve of her lips, trying and failing to hide her amusement. “She wouldn’t let go of me. Also, you watched me sleep. Isn’t that a little weird?” 

You shrug with casual ease and respond with a softened tone. 

“You looked like you needed it.”

Your bluntness catches Natasha off guard, leaving her momentarily speechless. She blinks, surprised not only by your remark but by the realization that she hadn’t woken up immediately when you arrived. 

The fact that she was able to rest so peacefully with a practical stranger nearby is something she never would’ve thought possible—but here she is.

As the sun rises higher for the start of the day, its gentle light softens the tension between you. It casts a warm glow over everything, including you, and Natasha finds herself at a loss for words at the sight.

After a moment, you stand, calling Widow to your side. 

The cat stretches one last time before hopping down from Natasha’s lap and trotting over to you with a playful spring in its step.

As you turn to leave, you glance back at Natasha, a faint smile playing on your lips.

“Maybe find a better spot for naps next time,” you say, giving her a backward wave. “Take care, Miss Black Widow.”

Natasha watches you walk away, something unfamiliar stirring in her chest. She exhales, running a hand through her hair as she tries to shake off the lingering sensation.

“Yeah,” she murmurs softly. “You too.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

A few days later, Natasha returns to her room after another one of her early morning runs, her body drenched in exhaustion from both physical exertion and the sleepless nights filled with nightmares. 

She lets out a tired sigh, closing her eyes and shaking her head as if to shake off the haunting memories of the recent dream when a soft scratching sound from her window catches her attention.

Her eyes widen in surprise as she spots the source of the noise. Hurrying over, she opens the window and carefully scoops the black cat perched on the sill into her arms.  

“How did you get all the way up here?” Natasha asks curiously.

Widow meows softly in response, twisting in her arms to bat playfully at a stray strand of hair that had fallen across her face.

Natasha huffs in amusement, leaning her head back to keep the hair out of reach.

Her gaze drops to the collar around Widow’s neck, reminding her of the lack of contact information to reach you. 

A small smile tugs at her lips as she recalls the memory of you accusing her of being a thief. Now, somehow, your cat has found its way to her again, staring up at her with those innocent, wide eyes.

Natasha taps the top of Widow’s nose lightly in mock scolding.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble with your owner again,” she mutters, half-playful, half-exasperated.

Unbothered by Natasha's words, Widow glances around the room with mild curiosity before letting out a pitiful meow, pawing at Natasha with an urgent expression.

Natasha raises an eyebrow, confused. "Am I supposed to know what that means?"

Her meows grow more insistent, her tiny voice taking on a more desperate tone.

“What do you want? Food?” she asks.

The cat immediately quiets at her suggestion, eyes shining with eager anticipation. Natasha chuckles softly, shaking her head.

“All right, let’s see if we can find you something to eat.”

An hour later, Natasha finds herself in the Compound’s kitchen, waiting for the coffee pot to finish brewing as she reflects on the bizarre morning.

Just as the aroma of fresh coffee begins to fill the room, the elevator doors slide open, and Tony Stark comes strolling in, waving his phone at her.

“Someone explain why the emergency communication system I created is sending messages for cat food.”

Before Natasha can respond, Peter Parker swings in through an open window, landing at the kitchen counter with a large bag of cat food under his arm. He pulls off his Spider-Man mask, flashing a wide grin.

“No worries, Mr. Stark! I saw the message and picked some up on my way,” Peter declares proudly, placing the bag triumphantly on the counter.

“Thanks, Peter,” Natasha says, taking the bag and raising an eyebrow at Tony. “At least someone’s reliable around here.” 

“Anytime, Miss Romanoff,” Peter replies, rubbing the back of his neck shyly as he moves toward the sitting area. 

Meanwhile, Tony scoffs at her teasing jab, muttering her words mockingly under his breath as he turns to leave. But he freezes mid-stride, pointing toward the couch.

“Uh, what is that?” 

Natasha follows his gaze and sees he’s referring to where Wanda is sitting on the sofa, using her powers to create a small red ball of energy for Widow, who is happily pouncing at it.

“Her name is Widow,” Natasha explains as she pours the cat food into a bowl.

“You named a cat after yourself?” Tony snorts, shaking his head. “And people say I’m the narcissist.”

“She’s not mine,” Natasha replies, rolling her eyes as she walks past him toward the sitting area.

“So, you stole it,” Tony deadpans.

“Why is that the first thing that comes to your mind?” Natasha huffs, exasperated, as she sets the bowl on the floor.

At the sight, Widow scampers over, letting out a happy meow before digging into the food.

Natasha smiles softly, scratching the cat’s head as it eats, though her thoughts inevitably drift to you, wondering how she will return your cat to you.

Wanda, who’s been watching the scene with an amused grin, chimes in, “Natasha has a crush on the owner. She keeps thinking about her.”

“Oh, this just got interesting,” Tony says, leaning on the back of a chair with an intrigued smirk. “When did that happen?”

Natasha glares at Wanda before answering, “I met her on one of my runs. We talked. That’s it. Also, what have we said about reading people’s minds?”

Wanda raises her hands in mock surrender.

“I’m not, I swear. Your thoughts are just…really loud, and most are about her.”

Tony chuckles at the revelation, thoroughly entertained. He raises an eyebrow at Natasha, grinning.

“Nat, there are better ways to get someone’s attention than stealing their pet. I could give you some tips if you want.”

Natasha huffs, crossing her arms.

“I don’t need your help, Stark.”

Tony, unbothered by her dismissal, smirks.

“Then why haven’t you contacted her about the cat?”

“I don’t have her contact info,” Natasha admits reluctantly. “I didn’t get her number.”

Peter, who had been quietly watching the exchange, suddenly perks up.

“I have an idea!”

He pulls out his phone from his backpack, snaps a picture of Widow, and begins typing. A moment later, he shows the screen to Natasha. 

The post reads: “Cat found at Avengers Compound,” with Widow’s picture attached. 

“What’s this?” Tony asks, peering over Peter’s shoulder.

“It’s the ‘Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man’ app,” Peter explains animatedly. “You told me to focus on local stuff as Spider-Man, so I made this app where people can report crimes or activities happening in New York. This way, Miss Romanoff’s crush will see the post and know where to find her cat.” 

At his last casual remark, Tony bursts into laughter while Wanda hides her smile behind her hand.

“All right, that’s enough,” Natasha says, scooping up Widow and grabbing the food bowl. “Come on, Widow. Let’s get you some peace and quiet.”

With that, she leaves the room, escaping the playful teasing of the others.

Later that afternoon, Natasha returns to the common room and finds Peter frantically overturning the sofas.

“What are you looking for?” she asks, arms crossed.

Startled, Peter jumps, dropping the sofa back to the ground with a loud thud.

“Please don’t tell Mr. Stark,” he pleads.

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “What did you lose?”

Peter hesitates, then slumps his shoulders in defeat.

“Mr. Stark gave me a USB with the new suit design, and I was going to show him my modifications, but now I can't find it anywhere.” 

He starts pacing, clearly panicking, as he continues.

“I thought I put it in my backpack, but it’s gone. If I lost it in the city, Mr. Stark will never let me help with modifications again!”

Natasha steps forward, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey, calm down. Tony will understand,” she says, nodding toward the window. “Why don’t you go check your place again? I’ll keep an eye out here.” 

Peter takes a deep breath and nods.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll do that. Thanks, Miss Romanoff,” he says before pulling his mask back on and swinging out the window.

Natasha shakes her head with a small smile and resumes her original task—finding Widow, who had somehow slipped out of her room without Natasha noticing.

The little cat was proving to be surprisingly clever and stealthy. It seems you obviously trained her well.

After searching around for a bit, Natasha is about to check with Wanda when a pair of yellow eyes appear from the shadows on one of the black sofas.

Widow stares up at her, completely unbothered.

Chuckling in realization, Natasha sits beside the cat, gently scratching her head.

“You’re pretty good at hiding. I didn’t even realize you were there.”

Widow responds with a bored yawn, stretches her body, and then hops onto Natasha’s lap, curling up contentedly. As her eyes begin to flutter closed, Natasha frowns in realization.

“No, no, you can’t fall asleep on me. I’ve got things to do.”

Widow ignores her, already deep in sleep. When Natasha hears the soft sound of the cat’s snoring, she throws her head back against the sofa in disbelief.

Sighing, Natasha spots a tablet on the nearby table. She carefully reaches for it without disturbing Widow and begins doing some work.

After a moment, the rhythmic purring from the cat brings an unexpected feeling of calm and comfort to her, and before she knows it, Natasha’s eyes start to grow heavy, and she drifts off without realizing it.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been asleep when she wakes up, blinking groggily. As her eyes adjust, she notices a familiar face beside her—you.

For a brief moment, Natasha wonders if she’s still dreaming. Though, she doesn’t usually have dreams this pleasant. 

But then your eyes lift from your phone at her movement, and you raise an eyebrow, amused.

“For a hero, you sure take more naps than I expected.” 

Natasha blinks away the remnants of sleep, sitting up straighter, and tilts her head at you curiously.

“How did you get in here?”

You gesture casually toward the elevator. 

“I came by after seeing the post, and your teammate—Wanda, I believe—she said she recognized me, so she directed me here.”

Resting your arm against the back of the sofa, you lean your head on your hand as your eyes twinkle with amusement.

“I thought I told you to find a better napping spot. This one’s just going to give you neck cramps.”

Natasha’s lips curl into a small smile as she gestures to Widow, still sound asleep on her lap. 

“Wasn’t exactly my choice.”

Your gaze drifts down to the cat, and you sigh knowingly.

“Widow, stop pretending and get off her.”

Natasha frowns in confusion at your words and snaps her gaze to the seemingly asleep creature on her lap.

For a second, the cat doesn’t move, but when you call her name again, a little more sternly, the cat’s eyes snap open.

Widow lets out an indignant meow before hopping off Natasha’s lap and licking her paws casually as if nothing happened.

Natasha shakes her head in disbelief.

“What a little liar.”

Groaning softly, she stretches out her stiff muscles and catches you watching her, your gaze lingering for a second too long.

When you realize she’s noticed, your eyes flicker back to your phone.

Natasha smirks, about to tease you, but then you show her the screen of your phone—the post Peter made about Widow.

“I need you to take this down,” you say, your tone serious.

Natasha furrows her brow but nods.

“Sure, I can do that. But why? It looks like she’s a hit with everyone.”

Your smile turns faint as you stand, the lightness in your expression turning somber.  

“Not all attention is good attention,” you say cryptically. 

Before Natasha can ask what you mean, you grab a pen from the table and reach for her hand. She watches in surprise as you scribble something on her palm. Your touch lingers for a moment, making her feel unexpectedly flustered.

“Here,” you said, finishing. “If Widow finds her way to you again, you’ll know how to reach me. Though, hopefully, you won’t need it too often.” 

Natasha glances at the number on her palm, then back at you with a raised eyebrow. 

“Am I only allowed to use this for cat-related emergencies?” 

 You smirk, though there’s a hint of something more serious in your eyes.

“I’m not sure I’m someone you’d want to get involved with.” 

Natasha holds your gaze, intrigued.

But the tension is broken when Widow hops back onto the sofa, drawing both of your attention. The cat tries to burrow into the cushions, as if searching for something or determined to get comfortable again. 

You sigh, picking her up despite her annoyed yowl. Before leaving, you glance back at Natasha, tilting your head thoughtfully.

“Though… I guess a hello from the Black Widow every now and then wouldn’t be too bad.”

With that, you head to the elevator, disappearing behind its doors.

Natasha looks down at the number on her palm, a small smile playing on her lips. She finds herself hoping that Widow might "accidentally" find her way back to the Compound again soon—if only for another chance to see you.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha didn’t have to wait long for another chance to see you, after all.

Just a few hours after your departure, late at night when the Compound was quiet, Natasha—still unable to sleep—wandered into the common room.

To her surprise, there you were, dressed in dark, stealthy clothes, frozen the moment you noticed her. 

Her instincts kick in immediately, and within seconds, Natasha has her weapon drawn, pointing it directly at you.

Yet, you show no sign of panic. Instead, you raise your hands slowly and tilt your head at her with a calm, almost amused expression. 

“You really shouldn’t be up this late, you know,” you say lightly, as if this was a casual conversation. “Messes with your sleep schedule.” 

Natasha ignores the teasing, her gaze unwavering and her senses on high alert. She didn’t feel any malice from you, but the situation is far too strange to let her guard down. 

“How did you get in undetected?” she asks, her voice low, tinged with suspicion.

With deliberate slowness, you gesture with one hand toward the open window behind you. 

“That was left unlocked. Pretty reckless for the Avengers.”

Natasha’s frown deepens as she glances at the window, already making a mental note to have Peter redo security training. 

“And the alarms?” Natasha asks, her weapon still trained on you.

You shrug casually.

“Let’s just say we have a lot of experience when it comes to not being seen.”

Natasha's eyes narrow at your words. "We?" 

You nod toward her feet, and Natasha briefly glances down.

Widow is there, casually walking through her legs and brushing her fur against Natasha with a soft purr, completely at ease.

When her gaze snaps back to you, you gesture toward her weapon. 

“Mind putting that away? I’m unarmed. You can check if you like.”

Natasha hesitates, her eyes studying you carefully, looking for any hint of deception.

But there is none.

Reluctantly, she holsters her weapon and steps closer, reaching out to pat you down.

You stand still, hands raised, letting her search you for any hidden weapons or gadgets.

“So, what are you?” Natasha asks, her tone sharp. “A spy?”

“Reformed thief, technically,” you reply with a casual shrug. “I don’t do this sort of thing much anymore.” 

You sigh lightly, casting a glance at Widow, who had settled by Natasha’s feet and is now nonchalantly licking her paw. 

“She, however, is still struggling to break her old habits.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, glancing at the cat.

“You’re telling me this cat’s a thief?”

You chuckle softly, catching the disbelief in her voice.

“I’m serious. Check my pocket—it’s the reason I’m here.”

Frowning, Natasha reaches into your jacket pocket, her fingers brushing against something small and metallic. She pulls out a USB drive, her eyes widening slightly in realization when she notices the small Spider-Man logo sticker on the side.

“I didn’t realize Widow had swiped it before we left earlier,” you explain, your tone sheepish. “I came back to return it before there’s any trouble.”

“Is that why you wanted the post deleted?” Natasha asks, her suspicion now tinged with curiosity. “Are you in some kind of trouble?” 

There is a brief pause as you meet her gaze. Your smile turns slightly rueful at the concern in her voice, and for a moment, something unspoken lingers between you.

“Let me worry about that,” you say softly, your tone more serious than before. Then you lift your hands slightly in surrender, a playful glint returning to your eyes. “So, are you going to arrest me, or am I free to go?” 

At that moment, Widow trots over, settling in front of Natasha and meowing softly as if to plead on your behalf. 

Natasha crosses her arms, her lips curling slightly in amusement at the sight, though the concern hasn’t left her eyes. 

“You two sure know how to double-team a person.”

You chuckle, realizing Natasha’s letting you go, and call your cat’s name. Widow immediately jumps into your arms, curling up comfortably. You look back up at Natasha, your expression softening.

“I told you—you wouldn’t want to get involved with someone like me.”

Natasha’s gaze softens in response.

“Your cat seems to think otherwise.”

You smile at that, gently shifting Widow in your arms.

“She’s got good instincts. A good judge of character, too. So, you must be really special if she’s interested in you.” 

For a moment, silence settles between you, broken only by Widow’s soft purring. The tension eases, but something still lingers beneath the surface—an unspoken understanding that there was more to your story, more to you, than you were letting on.

With a small smile, you take Widow’s paw and give Natasha a playful wave.

“You should head to bed soon, Miss Black Widow,” you tease softly, raising an eyebrow. “We wouldn’t want you napping in random spots again.”

As you move toward the window, Natasha steps closer, her voice lowering.

“You know, I don’t mind the visits from Widow. And the two of you don’t have to sneak in or anything. Just…come by whenever.”

You raise an eyebrow, surprised by her offer.

“Are you sure about that?” 

Natasha holds your gaze steadily. “Yeah. I’m sure.” 

You study her for a moment, then smile—a genuine, appreciative smile that softens the usual teasing banter.

“I’ll think about it,” you say with a playful tone.

With a quick nod, you adjust Widow in your arms and slip through the window with practiced ease. Natasha watches you disappear into the night, her mind spinning with questions and curiosity.  

One thing’s certain: this won't be the last time she’d see you and your cat. And to her surprise, she finds herself looking forward to the next time.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

a/n: thank you for reading!