Need Someone To Think Of Me When They Listen To Daylight By Taylor Swift

need someone to think of me when they listen to Daylight by taylor swift

How are we doing today ladies. Are we still losing it. Are we going completely insane

There goes the cutest woman this town has ever seen.

have a hyper shard from this morning

the others aren't mine so I don't have names for them :p

all I know is those two black ones are like siblings who fight all the time

✧.* HER LEATHER JACKET.

— summary : natasha spends hours trying to find her favorite leather jacket, only to find out you were wearing it the whole time.

— word count : 0,3k

— warnings : all fluff, pet names, established relationship, fem!reader, not proofread, kinda inspired by that one deleted scene where natasha says "is that my jacket" to wanda.

a/n : tried a new layout!! idk if i'll stick to this one though the small writing is hurting my poor eyesight. alsooo my requests are open for natasha so please send some prompts for her ‼️‼️ this is so poorly written i'm so sorry.

august nights are just oh so, beautiful. the moonlight is reflecting on the tall skyscrapers, the stars were glowing, the streetlamps on with an orange hue, and the sky is a perfect dark blue color.

you have the biggest smile on your face as you put the finishing touches on your outfit. natasha had plan the perfect datenight for the two of you. a reservation at a fancy restaurant with live jazz.

you look in the mirror, your red lipstick complimenting the red leather jacket you had on. it was natasha's jacket, you've borrowed it for this special occassion.

okay, that was a lie. you may have stolen it a few days ago. but! it wasn't your fault, it was just laying on your bed so of course you took it, i mean it's a good jacket, plus it smells like nat.

your posing montage in the mirror however, is interrupted by another loud groan coming from the other room, that was probably the 6th time. was natasha complaining?

you walk towards her room, only to find a huge mess of clothes. "are you okay?" you knock. natasha was rumaging through the clothes, "no i'm trying to find my jacket, but i can't find it anywhere." she replies.

"which jacket?" you ask, natasha has at least 23 leather jackets at this point. "the red one, with the little star details. have you seen it?" her back was turned to you, still determined to find it in that huge pile of clothes.

"the red one?" you repeated. your cheeks turn the same shade of red as the jacket. embarrassed, you fidget your hands, "so uh, about that." you start. "have you seen it?" natasha turns around.

you smile out of embarrassment. "is that my jacket?" natasha raises her eyebrow, "i'm sorry! i should've asked but it was just laying there so i couldn't help it-" you take the jacket off.

"slow down dekta." natasha smirks, putting the jacket back on you. "you look good in it. matches your lipstick." she compliments.

you smile. feeling bold you lean in for a kiss. "now we both match." you laugh, "now come on were gonna be late for the reservation." you wink.

I have no childhood memories…

…For years, I took comfort in such an absence of history: its objective crispness, its apparent obviousness, its innocence protected me; but what did they protect me from, if not precisely from my history, the story of my living, my real story, my own story, which presumably was neither crisp nor objective, nor apparently obvious, nor obviously innocent?

Georges Perec, W, or the Memory of Childhood, trans. David Bellos