#Alas back to the real world tomorrow (work)

[nuclearanomaly]

The Dawn had been Trailed. ☀️

[peachsukii]

₊✩‧₊ ⎯ after hours Another midnight stuck in the office, paperwork and tech piling up by the second. Sometimes, all it takes is a kick in the ass to take a break and remind yourself that you're only human.

content // late nights at work, just some fluff and fun behind the scenes of the hero world. reader’s support tech alias is Mechanica. wc // 0.9k

『 k.bakugo masterlist | caramel & champagne series 』

It’s been a long, exhausting month at the Dynamight Agency. Bakugo’s been on back to back emergency calls and scheduled patrols while you’ve been pulling double shifts to stay caught up with all of the repairs needed from said emergencies. It was a constant stream of issues popping up the second you’d finish fixing the last gadget of the bunch.

“Mechanica! My suit’s on the fritz. Can you check the wiring you installed?”

“Mecha, how’s it going? Sorry to bother you, but I’m out of the electro-bombs you made for me last week. Could you spare a few more?”

“Hey! You’re the top support tech here, right? Red Riot told me to come find ya. I busted my helmet last night and the visor doesn’t work anymore. Can you fix it? The infrared tech seems to have been fried."

Using your quirk for extended periods of time was draining as hell, as helpful as it was. Your fixes typically require a tool or two, or a quick recharge to a piece of gear you’ve created in the past, not three weeks of back-to-back quirk usage. A vacation sounds real nice, but alas, a heroes work is never truly done.

A familiar set of footsteps comes trudging toward the workshop as you’re inspecting a piece of circuitry - you know those boots anywhere.

“Peach, I thought ya went home?” Bakugo asks you while placing a broken gauntlet on one of the open work tables. “Like...hours ago.”

Sarcastically, you wave your hand to the piles of items next to you.

“I was when I messaged you earlier, and then everyone in the damn agency suddenly needed repairs.”

You peer around him to the bracer he placed on one of the other tables. Son of a bitch, you fixed that yesterday!

“Katsuki…you didn’t.”

You don’t mean for your tone to sound accusatory, but you’re grumpy and want to go home. Bakugo huffs under his breath and waves you off.

“Relax sweets, s’just a backup that’s busted. Villain stabbed right through it and it cracked one of the gaskets inside. Still got my good set in the office.”

“Every one is a good set, ‘Ki. I’ll get to it tomorrow, maybe I should build you a third set for when you smash the good pair.”

He knew the bite in your tone wasn’t aimed at him, it’s was just a result of your exhaustion and didn’t hold it against you.

“Why don’t we go home together? Leave all that for tomorrow. S’late,” Bakugo suggests, taking the tools out of your hands and laying them on the table. “Have your team do the dirty work. You’re gonna run yourself into the ground.”

“You have absolutely no room to talk, Mr. Running on Four Hours of Sleep.” You playfully smack him in the bicep before rearranging the tools on the table. “You didn’t even come to bed last night, you passed out on the couch in your hero gear.”

He shakes his head before grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Katsuki! Put me down!” You squeal, half annoyed and half giddy.

“Nah, cause if I do, you’ll be glued to this station for god knows how long." Bakugo smacks your ass to get you to sit still, a grin plastered on his face. "It’s past midnight, peaches. Takin’ you home and throwin’ us both in the shower. And we’re stayin’ home tomorrow, boss’s orders.”

There's no force in the world that could stop Katsuki Bakugo once his mind is made up - no use in fighting the inevitable.

You dramatically let your body rag doll in his hold. "Fine, but you have to carry me all the way home."

“I’d carry you to the edge of the world, sweetheart.”

How does this man one up himself every single day and steal your heart all over again?

“You’re so mushy when you’re tired,” you tease, reaching down to squeeze at his side to tickle him. “If only everyone else could see the big bad Dynamight right now, carrying his exhausted wife home. That would be a hell of a headline.”

Bakugo feigns dropping you in retaliation, catching you at the last second and shifting you back on his shoulder like you were weightless.

“Shut it or I’ll drop you in a puddle on the way home,” he cackles while pinching your thigh. “Ain’t no way in hell I’m lettin’ those paparazzi jackasses catch a glimpse of your ass.”

He makes a fair point. You were already in the spotlight recently, no need to add any more fuel to that fire.

The two of you exit the workshop, turning the lights off and heading to the rooftop to blast home. Bakugo’s version of flying never fails to fill you with adrenaline, a personalized rollercoaster ride all the way from the agency to your shared apartment. When you get home, Phoenix lovingly jumps off the couch and trots over to you two, rubbing between your legs and chirping happily.

“Can you feed Nix, babe?“ you ask as you’re stripping out of your workshop clothes and nodding toward the begging kitty at your feet. “I’ll start the shower. Leave your suit out here, too. We can toss them in the wash tomorrow.”

The domestic routine kicks in for the Bakugo household, just delayed by a few hours. After your shower, the two of you relax together in the bath, enjoying the silence of each other’s company. The alarm clock reads 2:13AM by the time you’re crawling under the sheets, tucked under Bakugo’s arm and cradled against his chest. He turns off the “work�� alarm for the both of you, solidifying his decision for a much needed day off.

It’s little moments like these that remind you how human the two of you are in the midst of it all - even heroes need breaks.

⇢ subscribers; @sunflowers-4 @sweetloveandaffection

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[raainberry]

Whispers in the Hallway

Momo x gn!reader

synopsis - two months of hiding your relationship from the kitchen, it’s only a matter time until it gets out

wordcount - 5.2K

T/W - this serves as an epilogue to “compliments to chef” but you dont need to have read it to enjoy this one kinda chaebol!momo - chef!reader - mentions of food - you don't hate each other anymore - kinda suggestive at some points but nothing too crazy - that's all i can think of, tell me if i missed anything

A/N - chef epilogue v.2, shout out to @cry4mina this ones for you sorry i gatekeeped it for so long tell me when you read it so i can delete

The last of the dinner shift guests left the building, unknowingly crossing the path with the owner.

Momo sent them a polite nod, her eyes shifting to their linked arms and entwined hands. Two months ago, she would have rolled them at the sight. Love on display, even late at night when only the moon could complain, she used to despise it.

Or so she thought. Turned out she was only single

That night her eyes narrowed with a soft smile. The couple barely paid her any mind, lost in their love, but she couldn’t care less.

She was on her way to meet her own.

Sure, she had to sneak around the back and hid it from most people, but it was there. Waiting for her, in that dim lit hallway near the walk-in freezer.

That location wasn’t exactly sexy, but romance wasn’t dead. As long as you were there, she’d meet you anywhere.

Holding her excuse against her chest—a stack of meaningless papers—she slipped into the restaurant, her presence a well-practiced secret.

A small smile played on your lips as she approached. It was an oddly intimate invite, the lighting casting soft shadows that seemed to close you off from the rest of the world.

"Hey," she greeted softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Hey," you replied, stepping closer. "Everything alright?"

She nodded, handing you the stack of papers. "Just wanted to go over these changes with you before tomorrow."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you looked down at the printed ink. “‘March ‘22 Menu Items’? Seriously?” You looked up to find her eyes, meeting the faint blush on her cheeks.

“It was all I had around...” She said, allowing herself to pout a little at your amusement.

“I guess it’ll do,” you shrugged off, deciding to let her off the hook this time. “To what do I owe this honor then if not for actual work?”

Momo grinned. Real talk, finally. “There’s this place a few blocks away I wanted to check out.” Her hands wiped the jet black uniform on your shoulders, adjusting the wrinkles from the day. “Benchmarking. I could use your help.”

You hummed, “That new Japanese place that opened a couple weeks ago?”

“That one,” she nodded, pursing her lips. It was adorable, the way she tried to keep it professional. She was doing a great job. An adorably great job. “What do you say?”

“I say that’s a great idea. Can’t let an opportunity to get inspired slip my hands, right?”

It took everything in her not to kiss you. That smile of yours, the way you looked at her… This was the only downside of keeping you a secret.

She settled on a smile, and you were more than fine with it. Seeing her struggle not to lean in was enough of a satisfying sight for now.

“I knew I could count on you.”

You stood there, wrapping up the conversation with soft laughter and shared smiles. These were also a rare moment of peace amidst your hectic schedules, and you made sure to savor it.

It wasn’t unusual for you to prolong them, carrying your talks into a much more personal territory. Nothing crazy nor risky, only a couple questions about each other’s day. The information was probably not worth risking getting caught, especially if you could get it in the privacy and comfort of her living room an hour later; but alas.

Falling love is anything but rational.

“How did you like your lunch?” You asked, eager to get her feedback on that new twist you’d added to her favorite.

And as she told you all about her thoughts, Mingyu and Ryujin were making their way through the kitchen, finishing up their tasks for the night.

As they passed the hallway, they heard the soft murmur of voices.

Curiosity piqued, Ryujin nudged Mingyu, and they both peered around the corner, their eyes widening at the sight before them.

You two were standing close. Too close. Heads bowed together, whispering. There was an unmistakable tenderness in the way you looked at each other, something that spoke volumes no matter how hushed your voices were.

"Are they...?" Ryujin trailed off, her voice barely audible.

Mingyu grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Looks like it."

They watched for a moment longer, seeing Momo lightly touch your arm, her fingers lingering just a bit too long for it to be casual. The way you leaned into that touch confirmed it all.

Ryujin pulled back, a grin spreading across her face. "I knew it. I knew there was something going on. Pay up.”

Mingyu chuckled quietly. "Wallet’s in my locker. I’ll give them to you later.”

Ryujin narrowed his eyes on him. “Right. Twenty dollars,” her finger reminded, and he laughed.

“Twenty dollars.” He nodded, glancing back to the hallway. “Guess we should keep this to ourselves, though, huh? Let them have their secret for a bit longer."

Ryujin nodded in agreement. "Yeah, but it’s going to be fun watching them try to hide it."

Their eyes met once more, the same idea popping in both their minds.

“Twenty more on the table, how long do they keep this up for?” Mingyu said, holding out his hand.

Ryujin only looked down at his palm, thinking. “Let’s talk.”

They shared a quiet smirk before quietly retreating, leaving the two of you completely unaware and oblivious that your secret was no longer as well-kept as you thought.

“You parked outside?” You asked, already knowing the answer. She confirmed it with a slight nod. “See you there in thirty?”

She nodded once more and you finally parted ways. Momo headed back to her car to wait for you while you returned to the kitchen. You both carried the warmth of your connection, but unlike her, you had to cool it before joining Ryujin and Mingyu.

The two of them greeted you with innocent smiles. You didn’t like it.

“What?”

“Nothing, chef.” Ryujin’s expression was nonchalant. Stacking plates like you’d asked her to moments ago.

Only odd thing was the twinkle in her eyes when she glanced at Mingyu.

“Just wrapping things up.” Mingyu added, wiping down a counter.

You narrowed your eyes slightly, sensing the unspoken words between them. “Okay… Right, well let’s make sure everything is spotless.”

—

“Are you okay?”

The poor sushi on your plate was grateful for the break. Momo’s voice had halted your train of thoughts, during which you kept pushing your food around.

Glancing up at Momo, you found her eyes already on you, her chopsticks paused mid-air. She tried to ignore it, but the lack of conversation on your end was kind of ruining this date night.

You knew it. You felt it. That’s why you hesitated to tell her about what circled your mind. Your suspicions about Ryujin and Mingyu’s odd behavior lately.

You weren’t blind nor deaf. Neither were you stupid. You could put two and two together, regardless of the result pleasing you or not. They definitely were on to you.

You didn’t want to worry Momo, but you knew keeping it to yourself would only make you nervous. More prone to errors and slip-ups.

So you sighed, “Yeah, I’m fine,” trying to sound casual. “Just… I think Mingyu and Ryujin might have figured us out.”

Momo’s eyes widened slightly, her chopsticks lowering slowly. “What makes you think that?”

“They’re acting a bit… weird lately,” you explained, fiddling with your napkin. “You know how they are—playful and stuff, but… I don’t know, tonight they were just too… odd. And there was this look that they shared too.”

Momo’s brows furrowed. A little too loose of proofs but, she didn’t want to dismiss them just yet. “Do you think they’d tell anyone?”

You thought about it for a bit, but it was useless. The answer was obvious. “No,” you sighed, leaning back against the chair. “I don’t think so. They’re good people, just very nosy. Knowing them, they’ll probably just have their fun watching us.”

Momo smiled, somewhat reassured by your words. She allowed herself to relax, picking up the sushi she’d given up on earlier. “Well, I guess we’ll have to be more careful.”

You chuckled softly, the tension easing away. “Really? I thought you’d stop your little visits.”

Momo giggled, shaking her head no. “Never. I mean, it was annoying at first, but it’s actually kind of exciting. The sneaking around, the secrets…”

Her gaze held a sense of mischief you recognized from your moments behind closed doors. The ones at her place or yours, where you didn’t have to hide from her world. The memories made you smile, along with the sight of them through her eyes.

“I can’t say I’m not enjoying it.” You smiled, grabbing your glass to cheer with her.

She clinked her glass against yours, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “To keeping secrets.”

“And to not getting caught,” you grinned.

—

“Do you think they’ll bet on us?”

You glanced at Momo, and the sight of her in your t-shirt made her question vanish from your mind for a hot second. The way it fell on her shoulders, baggy and reaching slightly too high on her thighs, revealing just enough of the cute shorts underneath to make your heart skip a beat.

The evening was calm, a nice close to the night. You’d walked into Momo’s apartment right as midnight turned to one. The late hour enveloped you in it’s peace and quiet, offering you a moment to cherish.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“If you want to stare at least do it subtly.”

Blood heated up your cheeks in no time, and you focused back on the toothbrush in your hands to hide your embarrassment. “Sorry, you just look… really good.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Nice save.”

You watched from the corner of your eye as she raised a foot to the sink she was sitting on top of, hugging her knee to her chest. The movement was casual, yet it highlighted her grace and the intimacy that had grown between you two.

You cleared your throat, trying to steer the conversation back on track. “Anyway, yeah probably. It wouldn’t surprise me.”

“What do you say we give them a run for their money then.”

You raised an eyebrow, the toothpaste foaming at your lips now. “What do you mean?”

Momo grinned, a mischievous spark in her eyes. “Just… subtle things. Little moments that keep them guessing.”

You laughed softly, the idea sounding both thrilling and amusing. “Oh, I didn’t know you were bad like that,” you teased, making her to roll her eyes. “But I’m all for it. Go on, what do you have in mind?”

She tilted her head thoughtfully, her eyes never leaving yours. “Maybe… a secret smile here, a lingering touch there. Just enough to make them question everything.”

She demonstrated by brushing her fingers lightly against your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. Her touch lingered just a moment longer than necessary, her eyes locking with yours.

“Yeah,” you finally answered. Your voice was a little higher than usual, strained, betraying the sudden lack of oxygen from her touch. “It could be fun.”

Momo chuckled, clearly amused and loving to see you lose your composure like that for her. It was familiar, taking her back to when you both spent all your time getting on each other’s nerves in the kitchen. The memory held a weird sense of nostalgia now.

You finished brushing your teeth and rinsed your mouth, still smiling at her earlier proposal. Momo hopped off the sink, her bare feet making a soft thud on the bathroom floor.

Her arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer. “Ready for bed?” she asked, her voice soft, a bit tired.

You nodded and leaned in for a kiss. She hesitated for a moment, making you chase it just to tease you, but ultimately gave in, granting you that small peck you’d grown addicted to as days went by.

Her giggles resonated when your lips trailed to her neck, contrasting with the quiet and shy compliments that followed. “You’re ridiculous,” she murmured, though the word did nothing to tame the affection in her voice.

You loved these moments—seeing Momo so relaxed and happy, away from the pressures of work. If only you could go back in time, tell yourself everything you’d learn to like about her… Just to see your own face. It’d be worth the round-trip.

That smile she gave you, the look back at you as she guided you to her bed, was just one of many.

—

Your steps were light, carrying, hurrying you to meet her as you walked along the glass bay separating her office from the rest of the open space.

The sight of her in there made you smile. She was wearing a black suit, glasses perched on her nose, her name badge hanging around her neck. She looked focused, all serious and professional like she loved to present herself. Funny how that side of her made your heart race for entirely different reasons now.

It was one of those rare afternoons when you had some time to visit her at the headquarters. Usually in between your lunch and dinner shifts. The office was quiet, with only the soft hum of the air conditioning breaking the silence. You didn’t bother to knock, and Momo looked up from her work just as you entered, a warm smile spreading across her face.

"Hey, you," she greeted softly.

"Hey," you replied, closing the door behind you. "Busy day?"

"Always," she sighed, but there was no real complaint in her tone. She loved her work, and it showed.

You walked over to her, unable to resist the urge to touch her. Your fingers brushed against hers as you leaned on her desk, causing a shiver to run down her spine. She looked up at you through her glasses, her eyes sparkling with affection.

Two months, yet you still weren’t getting used to it.

"Got something for you," you grinned, reaching into you bag.

Momo's curiosity was piqued. "What is it?"

You pulled out a takeout box that she recognized from the kitchen and opened it, revealing a beautifully crafted marshmallow-based treat. It was a delicate arrangement of marshmallows squares, dipped in chocolate and adorned with tiny edible flowers. "Just a little something sweet to keep you going."

Her face lit up, a small gasp escaping her lips as if you didn’t bring her food multiple times a week. And yes, you also melted at her reaction like you didn’t witness it just as much. "These look amazing! Thank you." She took one and popped it into her mouth, her eyes closing in bliss as she savored the taste. "They're delicious."

You chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I'm glad you like them."

Momo placed the container on her desk, right next to her monitor. "They'll be my little rewards. Thank you.”

You leaned in, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. "You’re very much welcome."

Just as you were about to pull back, there was a knock on the door. It opened before either of you could say anything, and her assistant stepped in.

"Oh, sorry to interrupt," She said, clearly not expecting to find you there. Though she did question those expectations after realizing just how often she’d caught you hanging here.

Momo quickly composed herself, adjusting her glasses. "It's fine. What do you need?"

As her assistant explained the situation, you stepped back, giving her space to handle it. But you couldn't help but notice the subtle smile that played on her lips whenever she glanced your way.

The subtle gesture took you back to her scheming a couple weeks ago. She never put her plan in action. Not that you expected her to—you knew it was just fun and games. It didn’t keep people from talking though… With spring and summer coming up, her (non-secretive) visits to the kitchen were getting more frequent. Lots of actual business planning ahead of the most profitable season, done in broad daylight but behind the office closet door.

You could understand how it could be seen. Their speculations weren’t exactly baseless either; you weren’t strictly talking business in there... So as long as they remained gossip, the whispers didn’t bother you. But after Mingyu walked in on you a few days ago, you could tell this whole situation was starting to bother Momo.

The sound of the glass door closing pulled you out of your thoughts. Her assistant had finally left, and Momo turned back to you, her smile widening. "Where were we?"

You grinned, watching her pull on the string to close the blinds. The newfound privacy prompted you to lean in closer. "Right about here," you said, brushing your lips against hers.

Her kisses were still so hesitant. Soft, like she was stuck in your early days. When those lips of yours were all but a reminder, a blend of how sharp and hostile your words had been with her. As if she’d cut her own on the remnants of your journey up to this point.

Yet she’d steal yours often. More as time went on, being brave for the both of you. Allowing her doubts to grow into a blossoming connection, pulling you into a need, a craving for it she prayed wasn’t one sided.

She considered you a weakness. But as long as you consider her yours, she'll be fine with it.

The warmth of her breath mingled with yours, her taste a sweet blend of the marshmallow treat and something that was uniquely hers… She pulled away first, you gave her no choice.

Your breath was a little uneven, and she could see the same awe in your eyes that she felt in her heart. “I can’t believe I used to hate your guts,” she chuckled to herself.

“Wasn’t that long ago. Things could change again.” You joked, earning yourself a playful push.

“Let me go back to work.”

“But I’m here, it’s break time,” you pointed out, walking after her as she made her way back to her chair.

“That’s an entirely self-proclaimed thing. I never agreed to that.” She gave you a mock glare, but the corners of her mouth twitched in amusement.

“Why not? You’re the boss.”

“I am. That’s why I need to finish this,” she said, settling back into her chair, her focus returning to the papers on her desk.

You dropped into the armchair across from her desk and sighed dramatically. “Fine. I’ll wait.”

And so you did, you watched her as she worked, the way her fingers moved over the keyboard, the slight furrow of her brow when she concentrated. It was mesmerizing, seeing her in her element, so competent and strong.

Every once in a while, you couldn’t resist the urge to poke fun at her, tossing a paper ball you made out of boredom her way.

She sighed, picking it up and tossing it back at you without even looking up. “You’re such a child.”

You only shrugged, grabbing the ball from the ground, “Sure, but when are you gonna be done?”

She glanced up, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Soon.”

You sighed once more, and after a few more minutes of quiet, your mind drifted back to your earlier thoughts. About the whispers in the kitchen hallways.

Your eyes found Momo again, focused on whatever was on her monitor. She seemed preoccupied. This probably wasn’t the best time to bring it up, but it slipped your lips before you could even think to hold it back.

“You know, there’s rumors spreading back in the kitchen.”

Momo looked up from her report, all worries on her features fading to leave room for curiosity. “What kind of rumors?”

“You know, the kind that involves us,” you said, leaning back in your chair. “People are starting to notice how often you come by.”

She frowned slightly, considering your words. “I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later. I never really did that before you.”

“Yeah, but it’s not just that,” you continued. “Some people are starting to think there’s more to it.”

Momo tensed up, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Right. Then let’s have our meetings in my office from now on.”

You raised an eyebrow. Kind of a drastic move, even coming from her. “Wouldn’t that be more suspicious if you stopped coming in all of a sudden?”

She sighed, clearly frustrated. “I just don’t want people talking.”

“Why are you so worried about it?” you asked, genuinely curious.

Her reaction was a little odd. Very different from the one she had at the restaurant, when you told her about Ryujin and Mingyu. You had a feeling she was serious about hiding from the kitchen, despite her passing off her worries as nothing more than jokes.

At first you thought it had to do with the industry. About the word going around fast or something along those lines. Thinking it had to do with her family, you agreed to her wishes. You thought it was a good thing too, and it would allow you to explore this whole thing in peace.

But if that was the case, you wouldn’t be visiting her office so often then, would you? The word would spread faster in corporate than in the kitchens.

It’s been a few weeks since you realized that, and her intentions were still as blurry. Her actions made little sense to you as days went by, but you knew best than to question them. You’d seen enough of that with the banquet.

But now, seeing her so visibly agitated… You didn’t like it. Her worries obviously ran deeper than just industry gossip. You could see the way her shoulders tensed, the worry etched into her expression. She wasn’t just concerned about the whispers

She was scared of them.

You took a deep breath, deciding to press gently. “Momo, is this really about the industry? Or something else? Because I can’t help if I don’t understand what’s really bothering you.”

Momo looked away, her fingers playing nervously with the edge of her blazer. “It’s not just the industry or my family,” she admitted softly. “It’s about you.”

“Me?”

She nodded, meeting your eyes again. “I don’t want them to think you only got the job because you’re sleeping with the boss. I don’t want anyone to undermine what you’ve achieved because of me.”

The weight of her words settled between you, heavy and uncomfortable. You hadn’t realized the extent of her concern, how much she was trying to shield you. Hell you hadn’t even realized she even was shielding you. “Momo, that’s—”

“I know it’s not true,” she interrupted, her voice trembling slightly. “But people can be cruel. They can twist things, make assumptions. They can act on those and… I just don’t want you to face that.”

You felt a pang of emotion at her vulnerability, at how much she was willing to protect you even at the cost of her own comfort. You reached out, taking her hand in yours. “Thank you for looking out for me. But we can’t live our lives based on what people might say or do. At this rate we’d have to hide forever.

“But what if they—”

“They won’t,” you interrupted gently. “And if they do, I’ll handle it. Don’t worry about me.”

Momo scoffed and rolled her eyes, a hint of the stubborn chef she was trying to hire just months ago resurfacing. She recognized that same defiance, that same determination. It was oddly reassuring.

“Besides,” you added, a mischievous glint in your eye, “even if they think all that, they would just sound stupid.”

Momo furrowed her eyebrows at your words. “What do you mean?”

“We never slept together,” you grinned.

Her confusion melted into amusement, and she cracked a smile despite the slight annoyance at your comment. “You’re right. I guess that’s one thing they can’t twist.”

You both shared a quiet laugh, the tension easing from the room. Momo’s grip on your hand tightened.

“You know,” you continued softly, “we can’t let them control how we live our lives. We’ve worked too hard to be where we are.”

She nodded, her eyes softening. “You’re right. It’s just… difficult sometimes.”

“I know,” you whispered, pulling her closer. “But we’ll figure it out. One step at a time.”

Momo took a deep breath. “Alright then. Let’s be careful, but not scared.”

“Exactly,” you said, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “No more sneaking around.”

You couldn’t blame her for being cautious. The industry was as small of a world, as it could be vicious. You’ve seen it on your own account. She was right, but unrealistic. Hiding your relationship forever wasn’t an option. You had to find a balance, a way to be together without giving people the ammo to hurt you.

—

The next day, you maintained a professional demeanor when Momo came by the restaurant. She was all for letting the stolen glances and subtle touches free, but you could tell it cost her.

She kept catching Ryujin and Mingyu glancing over at the two of you. They were definitely betting on you, and it took everything in her not to scold them into focusing on their work.

It was a Friday afternoon, and the kitchen was bustling with activity in preparation for the evening shift. You’d usually be running that kitchen like the marines, but Momo had requisitioned you for the next hour. So you stood at an empty corner of a counter, papers spread out before you, discussing the finer points of the upcoming summer menus.

You’d noticed her glancing around every so often, visibly nervous about this new setting. So you decided to bring her focus back on you.

“I think you might need to yell at me or something soon.”

Momo furrowed her eyebrows at the sudden change of subject. “What? Why?”

“I don’t know, they’re looking at us weird. Whispers might spread,” you teased.

She wanted to whine so badly. She also hesitated to actually yell at you, but instead, she settled on playing into your dumb teasing and saved her annoyance for later. Maybe she could give you the silent treatment or make you walk to her place instead of picking you up. Right now there were more important matters.

“I mean, I could, but…” She trailed off, looking over a dish you’d sketched out. “Would it work?”

You shrugged, “Don’t know until you try.”

She paused and stared at you. “But I thought we didn’t care about people talking anymore. If you miss me yelling at you, just say that.”

You stayed silent and shrugged, fiddling with your fingers. Neither denying nor confirming the claims.

Her jaw dropped, and she couldn’t hold herself back on shoving you. She deemed it necessary.

“So it did turn you on, you freak.”

“I never said that! Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“I wouldn’t have to if your intentions were clear.”

“My only intentions here are to cook and make you the best in the business.”

“I already am.” She said, handing you a pen. “Sign here; it’s the menus for the first half of the summer. You reviewed them, right?”

You nodded, taking the small stack. You went through it one more time, and it picked at Momo’s patience. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure there’s no surprise marriage clause hidden somewhere.” You smirked, eyeing her reaction above the stack of paper. “You never know with you business families.”

“You wish. Just sign it,” she sighed, desperately trying to hide the smile tugging at her lips.

“Wait, I just want to see something. There’s a dish I thought about last night. Might be able to take it up a notch.”

“How?”

You spiraled into an explanation, your words as animated as your hands. Momo listened intently, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she chimed in with her ideas.

“…and I think if we add a hint of yuzu, it’ll give it that perfect summer twist,” she suggested, her hands gesturing with that circle she always did. Regardless of what she was talking about, it was a circle. It made you smile.

You nodded, smiling at her passion. “Sounds good. I can try and get my contacts working at the market for some fresh ones.”

“But do you think it would pair well with the main courses?” Momo asked, her eyes focused on the menu.

You nodded, your attention equally split between the menu and the kitchen staff. “I think so. The flavors should complement each other nicely. But we should probably do a taste test first, just to be sure.”

Momo smiled, her eyes softening as she looked at you. “Do what you need to. I trust you.”

Time passed by, and the dinner shift approached. The staff around you visibly picked up the pace, and you had to get back to them soon so Momo gathered her things as she prepared to leave.

She let you walk her to the door separating the kitchen from the dining hall, your hand hovering over the small of her back. Your eyes lingered down on her as your conversation wrapped up on the hushed part of the business.

“Don’t forget to text me on the feedback from tonight’s service,” Momo said, adjusting her bag on her shoulder.

“I will,” you replied, a small smile playing on your lips. “Drive safe, alright?”

Without thinking, Momo leaned in and planted a quick kiss on your cheek, a reflex she’d picked up from your mornings together. The gesture was so natural and familiar that she didn’t realize what she’d done until she pulled back and saw the stunned expressions around the kitchen.

The kitchen fell silent. Every pair of eyes turned to you both, and the sudden stillness was almost deafening. Momo’s eyes widened in realization as she pulled back, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of red.

You were stunned too. Only you managed to keep your composure at least. You had to. Momo was already too far past the point of even trying to.

“Uhm, thanks,” you muttered, trying to play it off. You glanced around the kitchen, noting the shocked expressions on your staff’s faces.

Among them you noticed Ryujin and Mingyu, catching the triumphant look they exchanged.

Mingyu mouthed, “told you,” to Ryujin, who could barely contain her laughter.

Clearing your throat, you clapped your hands to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, let’s get back to work. We have a service to run.”

The staff quickly resumed their tasks, though the air was thick with unspoken questions and barely contained amusement. You and Momo continued your conversation as if nothing had happened, but the blush on her cheeks and the subtle smirk on your lips told a different story.

As the kitchen buzzed back to life, Ryujin slid up to Mingyu, her voice low. “Guess you won the bet.”

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, but I didn’t think it would happen like that. This is going to be interesting.”

[winniemaywebber]

Honeysuckle Rose • Part 4

part one part two part three

masterlist

mood board by @hephaestn

taglist: @ginabaker1666 @sagesolsticewrites @hephaestn @manonsmanicmind @derry-rain @bobparkhurst @bloodynereid

Her head leaning on her hand, her elbow on the table, Olive feels Valencia glance across at her. She has seen her eyes softening as James talks, unaware that her mouth is slightly agape. A sharp kick under the table snaps Olive out of her trance, Val shaking her head and smiling, those gorgeous red lips parting and showing her perfect teeth as she makes eye contact. “Breathe, Ollie,” she teases, as the boys engage in a conversation about something or another. 

“Sorry,” Olive mumbles, awkwardly sipping her drink. “I'm not usually like this.”

“Maybe it's the booze?”

“Oh, probably. Yep, that's it. Not the most handsome man I've ever seen taking interest in me. Not that at all.”

“The most handsome, huh? Jesus, don't let him hear you say that.”

“Why not?” Olive giggles.

“He'll never fit his head through that door ever again. Not to mention us never hearing the end of it.”

“You girls wanna take a couple laps in the Jeep? Watch the sunrise?” Dougie asks, looking pointedly at Olive. 

“We're all far too drunk to drive, Doug, and I ain't walking all that way,” he pauses for a moment, feeling Val's eyes focus on him. “Only walking my girl home.” The classic furrow softens immediately. 

“That's what I thought, Everett. Good answer.” 

“What do you say, Olive? Wanna take a walk with me?”

“Sure,” she replies, nervously. She glances over at Val, who nods towards her as Ev helps her with her jacket. 

“Olive, see you tomorrow. Can you get here in time?”

“Oh, I'm sure I can,” a panic rising in her chest, hoping that somehow she was able to get back. Whether any time had passed between the two worlds, she had no idea and was terribly nervous to find out. Alas, she had to get home and check on Pearl, relieving Joan of her duties. But a few more moments with Dougie seemed so incredibly tempting that she felt herself taking his open hand and rushing out the door with him into the cold, morning air. 

“You don’t have a jacket?” He asks as he sees her shiver the second the warm club is behind them.

“Didn't plan on staying this long, actually.” 

He laughs a little, pulling off his own jacket. “Here,” he says, wrapping it around her shoulders. He pulls the sleeve up as she puts her arm in, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“Wanna hold your hand.” 

His hand slips into hers and they begin to head towards the hardstand. Olive, pontificating how to make a quick exit without seeming rude, is distracted from her thoughts by an orange ember coming towards her face. Holding a lit cigarette in front of her, she knows he expects her to take it in between her own fingers. Instead, she drags on it from where he holds it, not once breaking eye contact and his mouth drops open.

“So, uh,” he clears his throat, moving the cigarette back to his own mouth as soon as she has blown smoke from her lips. “Where did you grow up?”

“Here,” she smiles. “I just moved back from London.”

“London? Wow, why?”

“Oh, errm,” she stutters, trying to formulate a story that has little substance but is not a lie. “I, uh…lots of things. I had a few things not work out. My grandma took a fall just over a year ago and she needs a carer. I decided to come home and take over.”

“That's real nice of you, Ol. I'm sure she's grateful.”

“I'm sure, too. She'll never say it, she's a grumpy old girl. But, I love her. She's my pal. Taught me how to be tough and I'm thankful for that.”

“Tough, huh?”

“Mhm,” she nods, realizing they are almost at the aircraft she fell from this afternoon. “What about you?”

“Lansing, Michigan. You probably haven't–”

“Never heard of it,” they overlap, Olive giggling and instantly going to cover her mouth with her free hand. 

“Hey, no. You gotta stop that.”

“Why, Dougie?”

“Because you have a pretty smile. And you shouldn't hide it, especially when it's me making you do the smiling, huh?”

A moment of silence passes between them as they reach the wing of Just A-Snappin, coming to a stop. His hand on her cheek, hers on his back. “Tell me more about Michigan,” she murmurs, their noses almost touching.

“It's real pretty,” he replies, his hand going from her cheek to her hair to move a strand that's blown in her face. “Real pretty in the fall especially.” He sighs, his thumb gently stroking her mouth. “I'll take you one day.”

“I'd love that,” she replies, moving closer. Just as their lips are about to meet, a loud, shrill horn noise is heard over the tannoy, followed by a thick accent. 

“James Douglass,” it commands. “Put that girl down and get to bed!” 

“Dammit, Red,” he mumbles, turning away for a second and squinting up at the tower. “I swear he has eyes in his ass, that guy.”

“Is this goodnight?” she asks, handing the jacket back.

“It is. I'm sorry. I wanted to walk ya home but–”

“Look,” she says, kissing him gently on the cheek. “The sun is rising.”

For a moment, he holds her close to him before breaking away, kissing her softly on the cheek, too. 

“Goodnight, Olive,” he says, beginning to walk backwards towards his destination.

“Goodnight, Dougie.” 

The second his back is turned, Olive begins to run in a full sprint towards the Red Cross Hut to retrieve her clothes. To her relief, Helen is snoring softly in the soft light of the sunrise, Val nowhere to be found. Assuming she's still with Ev somewhere around, she delicately places the dress upon her bunk, pushing out any wrinkles and creases with her hands. Pulling her shirt, overalls and boots back on, stuffing the headscarf in her top pocket, she makes a hasty exit, extremely careful to not disturb Helen. She sighs softly and turns over, causing Olive to freeze as she tiptoes towards the door. Luckily, she remains asleep, the rapid movement not waking her once. 

Returning to the plane and making sure there are no eyes on her, Olive runs around to the hatch she stumbled out of earlier. Seeing it left open, she hesitates, trying to reason with herself to stay. Thoughts of how devastated Pearl would be creep into her mind, cementing the decision. With a sigh, she climbs in, somehow finding long forgotten core strength. She reaches down and shuts the door with a slam, waiting a few moments. Closing her eyes, she waits, the blazing afternoon sun coming through the windows causing her body to overheat instantly.

Sadness crawling all over her, she kicks the hatch open again, her body suddenly heavy. Jumping out much more gracefully this time, she lands heavily in her boots, the scene around her seemingly unchanged. The group of girls she had originally been with were back in their usual spot, Olive now traipsing over to them casually, trying not to be seen. Heather greets her with a smile, her absence apparently unnoticed. 

“Taking a look at the plane?” She asks before the final crowd of school kids of the day make their way around the circuit. 

“Something like that,” she titters, grabbing a rake. “What time is it?”

Heather raises an eyebrow as she looks at her watch, trying to gauge the time as the warm sun reflects the watch face. “Errrm, it's two pm.”

“Oh!” Olive says, surprised. Seemingly no time had passed at all. 

—

“Hiya, Pearly Girly,” she greets, walking into the house. Kicking her boots off by the door, Olive begins to walk into the kitchen, reaching into the beige fridge to quickly gulp milk straight from the glass bottle that was delivered this morning.

“Hey, you,” Pearl greets, hobbling in with her stick. “Get a glass, for goodness sake!”

“I only wanted a gulp,” Olive laughs, now seeing that she'd somehow chugged half the bottle. 

“Some things never change, do they? You've been doing that since you were wee.”

“Old habits die hard, Grandma. Where's Joan? Am I late?”

“No, doll,” Pearl says, shaking her head. “She's out in the garden. Funeral director called.”

“Ah, shit,” Olive replies, peeking out of the window that's shrouded by a worn net curtain. She sees Joan pacing up and down the garden path, arms crossed and face growing more furrowed each second. “I'll make her a cuppa. You want one too?”

“If there's any bloody milk left,” she teases, leaving the kitchen. Olive titters and shakes her head as her back turns, clicking the kettle on. 

—

Pearl and Olive sit opposite one another, sipping from their mugs despite the boiling hot weather outside. 

“So, good first day? How did you like it?”

“Oh, I loved it,” Olive replies, a huge smile on her face. “I met some really nice people. Red Cross girls, took me under their wing and–” Olive pauses, realizing what she has said, seeing Pearl’s confused face. It settles in an instant, the ringing in Olive's ears subsiding as she sees her face return to normal.

“I used to love their jumpsuits. The headscarves they'd wear through the day while their hair was setting for a night at the club. I was always envious. There I was, sweating, beetroot red with a rake and overalls, while they were there looking all glamorous, handing out coffee and donuts to these handsome men. I would've traded places in an instant.”

Olive giggles. “I don't blame you, Pearly. I bet they were all beautiful.”

“They were,” she says, wistfully. “There was one man that caught my eye right before we moved. I never got his name, nor did we ever speak but you bet your bottom I was sat watching his every move whenever I could. He always had this dog with him–”

Olive, taking a sip of tea, inhales at the wrong moment and chokes as she hears Pearl’s words. “Jesus, Olive,” she laughs, trying her best to throw a napkin her way. “Wrong pipe?”

“Oh, yeah,” she replies, coughing a few more times. “Something like that.” It couldn't be the same dog, the same man. Surely not? Shaking her head through the shock, Olive trying to make sense of everything that's happened in the past few hours, Joan enters the room looking a little less stressed than the last times Olive has seen her. 

“Hi, Olive,” she smiles. 

“Joan,” she greets. “How are you?”

“Oh, better now I've got that sorted. Funeral home wanted to go through the order of service, and wanted to know how long my grandson's speech was going to be. You know our Kyle can talk.” Joan looks at Olive, her lips pursed slightly. “You remember Kyle, Olive?”

“Oh, er, yeah. I sure do.” How could she forget? Seeing him on the train while on her way home had brought up so much disdain that she'd felt nauseous for hours afterwards. Kyle, the first and only guy she'd let break her heart, and she'd let him do it because he somehow broke through all the toughness Pearl had taught her - and used it to his advantage.

“I do wish you two had worked out–”

“I wish he'd have been able to control himself and not sleep with my best friend.” 

“Olive!” Pearl scolds. Standing up, Olive announces her leave.

“I need to shower. Nice to see you, as always, Joan. See you tomorrow.”

—

Olive sits on her bed, wrapped in a towel and tries to breathe slowly. Laying down on the bed, her wet hair soaking into the pillow case, she closes her eyes and begins to try and ‘center herself,’ an exercise she'd been taught in Movement Class at drama school. Feeling her lungs inflate and holding her breath for just a moment, Olive hears a small knock on her door. 

“Ollie Pop?” Pearl calls, her voice etched with concern. “You alright?”

Breathing out slowly, Olive sits up. “Come in, Grandma.” As she does so, she puffs heavily and sits on the bed beside her. 

“I like our Joan, but her grandson is a twat.”

“Granny!” Olive shrieks. 

“What? You know if I curse, it's serious. He is. A stupid one at that.”

“Yeah,” she replies, sighing. “Besides,” she pauses, the panic attack pushed aside. “I'm a tough girl. Just like my Grandma.”

—

Laying in the softly lit room as the sun rises, Olive tries her best to read by the glowing lamplight emanating from her bedside table. The words scattering on the page, blurring into one another, she snaps it shut and sits up quickly as her alarm clock beeps, not wasting a single moment. Despite a night of minimal sleep, Olive gets ready in a flash, trying her best to remain as quiet as possible to not disturb Pearl who she can hear snoring from her room. Opening the door with a small creak, Olive smiles sweetly as her beloved Grandma sleeps peacefully, pictures of her husband on display on the table directly next to the bed. Closing the door quietly, Olive goes to the kitchen and boils the kettle for her morning green tea, waiting for Joan to come take over. Despite Olive figuring out that only a little time passes between worlds, she does not want to risk Pearl ever being left alone. Sipping at the hot liquid, she watches the sunrise through the garden window. Closing her eyes and breathing deeply, her mind goes back to the previous sunrise she saw, under the wing of a plane with Dougie. 

Finishing her tea, Olive quickly runs back to her room to collect her dog-eared copies of A Midsummer Night's Dream and The Tempest, hoping to find time for some light reading throughout the day. Joan arrives soon after, instantly apologizing for yesterday as she walks through the door, eyes wide with anxiety. 

“Joan,” Olive says, waving her apology away. “Not you that should be apologizing really. You're fine. It's fine and we're fine.”

“Phew, good. Our Pearl awake yet?” Olive shakes her head.

“Not yet. She seemed to fall asleep pretty quickly last night, too.”

“She's a lot more relaxed now you're here, Ol. She knows you're safe and I think that pleases her.”

“I'm glad to be here,” she pauses, smiling awkwardly. “Right, off to work!” 

“Do you need something for lunch?”

“No, thanks,” she smiles, quickly adjusting her headscarf. “I'll grab a donut.”

—

Practically skipping to the airplane, she takes a quick look around to make sure nobody has eyes on her. Only a few early morning museum visitors are around, going into the building itself, trying to keep out of the cool morning air. Satisfied that nobody can see her, she clambers into the plane, body flopping into the aircraft like a hard loaf of bread. 

“I gotta get better at this,” she murmurs to herself, wincing as her core tightens. Leaning down, she slams the door shut and waits. A dog barks in the distance, her eyes clamped shut in fervent hope. She opens her eyes and gently fiddles with the door, her head sticking out slightly. Waiting on the ground is Meatball, tail wagging the second he sees Olive. 

“Hi, buddy,” Olive squeaks when she lands on the floor, a lot more graceful than yesterday's breathtaking bump. “Good morning!” Taking him by the leash, she retrieves her bag and begins to walk to the Clubmobile. 

“Hey!” She hears as her back is turned. “Who said you could take my dog?” There's Benny, a playful smile on his face that Olive instantly reciprocates.

“He did, actually. Waiting right there to greet me.” 

He laughs, leaning down to stroke the dog. “He just was excited to see his new best friend.”

“And so was I,” she replies, handing the leash to him. “I'd better run. Can't be late for my first day!”

—

“Aaah! You're here!” Val squeals, squeezing Olive into a quick embrace. “Come on,” she says, taking her by the hand and leading her to the hut. “Tat got a uniform for you, Lord knows where from but I gave her my measurements and what do you know, there was one spare, exactly your–our size.” 

Hanging on the small locker next to a bunk, is a blue jumpsuit, emblazoned with the American Red Cross logo on one pocket.

“Here's your space,” Val says, gesturing towards the locker. “We have our own showers so we keep most of our stuff in there, toiletries, make up, what have you. We usually use this for trinkets, but decorate how you see fit, doll.” 

Placing her satchel on the bed, Olive removes her clothes and slips into the jumpsuit, it fitting her like a glove. She stuffs The Tempest into one of the huge pockets while Val takes in her new look.

“Oh!” Val gasps, hands on her cheeks. “Don't you look adorable! Wait til Dougie sees you!” Rolling her eyes, Olive looks in the mirror one final time before heading to the door of the hut, Val close behind.

“Helen is already there,” she says, linking her arm with Olive's. “We'd better get there before she's rushed off her feet! Most of the boys are on the ground today, but they'll still be wanting coffee and donuts from us.”

“Makes sense,” Olive responds, waving to Tattie as she zooms past in her Jeep. She waves back, a smile on her face, the wind of the cool morning blowing through her perfectly styled hair.

“Tattie gets a Jeep?” Olive enquires, hoping there's no tone of malice within her question.

“Oh, yeah,” Val says, nodding. “She's the head honcho. She's General Spaatz's daughter, after all.”

“I dunno who that is, Val. Enlighten me.”

“In simple terms? Commander of the Eighth. That's all I know, to be honest. Don't make me go further than that, because I simply couldn't tell you.” She grins, flashing those beautiful teeth. “I'm so glad you came.”

“Me, too.”

—

“Olive! You're here!” Helen shouts through the hatch of the Clubmobile. Climbing down the stairs, she greets her new friend with a hug. Not used to this much affection all at once, Olive basks in it, feeling her face glow.

“Morning, Helen. Thanks for fixing up the bed.”

“You're so welcome, Ol. Nobody will be itching in our house! Not on my watch.”

“You'd think that should be the nurse's job, but here we are.” Val says, her tone scathing as she leans on the counter, flicking through a new copy of Screen Romances, Laraine Day and Robert Young upon the cover, cheeks pressed together. 

“Oh, I love Screen Romances,” Olive pipes up as Val reads through, that famous furrow brought out in concentration. “The gossip columns are savage.” 

“Oh, they so are,” Val responds, looking up, her eyes rolling slightly. “I live for it. I love the cattiness, the scathing remarks. Ugh, wonderful. I'll let you know if anything juicy comes up,” she says, nodding towards the hatch. “Someone's here to see you.”

“Donut from the prettiest girl in East Anglia, please.”

“Hey, Dougie,” she blushes, leaning out of the truck slightly.

“Look at you,” he says, biting his lip a little. “Blue really is your color.” 

“Oh, stop,” she replies, cheeks glowing even redder. “You're just angling for an extra donut.”

“Maybe,” he says, leaning up to meet her in the hatch. “And a kiss.” 

“Well, handsome, I can only give you one of those things right now,” she says, a donut in hand. “Meatball hair free, too. Must be your lucky day.”

“It sure is. Can I get a coffee too? Just cream.”

“Coming right up. No sugar?”

“Not when you're around. I'm sweet enough on you.”

“Are you trying to make me keel over?” She scolds, pouring the coffee into the cup. Brow furrowed, she hands him the cup, followed by a quick smile.

“Jeez, too much time with Valencia already. You've got that furrow perfected.”

“Maybe it was always within her, James,” she shouts, head still buried in the magazine. “Little help from me, and you being insufferable brings the best furrows out in people.” Olive shakes her head, giggling at the banter between the two. 

“Will you be at the club later?” Dougie asks, sipping the coffee. 

“I assume so,” Olive shrugs. “Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” he teases, winking as he walks away. 

“She's right,” Olive shouts from the Clubmobile. “You are insufferable.”

—

Both Dougie and Benny turn the second Olive enters the club, linked arm in arm with Val and Helen who stand either side of her. She meets the eyes of either man in turn, feeling her cheeks glow with that familiar heat the second she makes eye contact with Dougie. 

“I saw that,” Helen teases as they sit down, the same table as the previous evening. “You smiled when you saw Benny…”

“Helen–” Olive cuts her off, her cheeks now red with embarrassment instead of the previous limerence.

“But I saw that twinkle in your eye when Dougie looked at you.” 

Val nods enthusiastically, lighting a cigarette before offering one to her companions. Her attention on them is taken away the moment Everett walks up to the table, her eyes glowing as he greets her with a kiss on the cheek. 

Olive feels a presence behind her, before a glass - an Old Fashioned - is put at her place on the table. She turns to see Dougie, standing behind her chair with a whiskey in his hand. 

“Thanks,” she says, demurely, hoping that the blushing is now at bay.

“You owe me a dance later,” he says, winking as he walks back to the bar before she can even muster an answer. 

“Does he always do that?” she asks, turning to Val and Ev. “Ask a question then piss off to the other end of the room?” The couple and Helen burst out laughing at her tone, still not quite used to Olive's dry British humor. Not able to contain her own laughter due to theirs, she tries to pull herself together to reiterate the question. Ev is the first to compose himself, Val dabbing at his eyes with her handkerchief as he gasps for air a final time. 

“Nah, not always,” he finally says, looking for his friend at the bar. “He's just nervous, I think.” 

—

Feeling a wet nose at her bare ankle, Olive squeals and finds Meatball under the table. 

“Aaah, hi buddy!” she says, placing her drink on the table and beginning to pet him. “Were you good today? We missed you!”

“Speak for yourself,” Val mumbles under her breath as she reapplies her lipstick , only loud enough for Olive to hear,  causing her to shoot her a glance and giggle. Making sure Benny didn't hear, she smiles up at him. 

“Hi, Benny. How was your day?”

“Better now for seeing you. Let me get this fella squared away. D'you wanna dance?”

“Love to,” she grins, placing her jacket on her chair. Val winks at her as she exits, clutching Benny's arm as he gives the dog to Buck and a few men around him before leading her to the dancefloor.

“I'm warning you, Benny,” she begins as they begin to sway together. “I'm not much of a dancer. I hope you enjoyed having toes.”

“I'm just as bad, don't worry. Just wanted a moment alone with you.”

“That's sweet,” she replies, smiling as she places a hand on his shoulder. 

“So, how was your first day?”

“Oh, it was wonderful, thanks.” And she means it. It's the most fulfilled she's felt in years, these new people welcoming her and taking her under their wing. Everything that went wrong in London feels like a million light-years away; and being here, maybe it is. Benny narrows his eyes at her answer, trying to gauge any hint of sarcasm he may have missed. She shoves him playfully as they dance, giggling a little. “I'm being serious, Benny. It's exactly what I need.”

“If you say so,” he replies, smiling as he spins her away from him. With that spin, she crashes into none other than James Douglass, who automatically takes her in his arms. 

“Dog needs taking out, Benny,” he teases, gripping Olive's hand. He quickly spins her to a new spot on the dancefloor and grins. “Told ya, you owed me a dance.”

“I didn't hear you asking, James,” she teases, feeling her cheeks flush as his hand lands on the small of her back. “It was more of a statement.”

“Right, right,” he says, breaking away. “Will you dance with me?” 

“Yes, I will. But you'd better apologize to Demarco when he gets back.”

“Oh, I'm not sorry for anything, doll.” She tuts at him, letting him lead her nonetheless. Him touching her feels like lighting coursing through her veins, feeling her hair stand up on end. He moves closer as the band slows, their noses almost beginning to touch as they move in unison to the swelling music. Her inhale becoming his exhale, she moves and plants a soft kiss on his neck. She feels him gasp into her ear and it's enough to make her weak at the knees. Looking over his shoulder, she sees a light begin to flash red above the door.

“Hey,” she murmurs, gesturing towards the light with a movement of her head. “Does that mean something?” He turns and looks, his eyes suddenly downcast as he sighs.  

“Ah, shit. Yeah.” 

“I'll walk ya home,” Benny pipes up, suddenly behind them. 

“Nah, I got it, Benny,” James replies, taking his grip off Olive.

“No,” Benny says, a little sternly. “I'll do it. Olive, you ready?”

“It's fine, I can–” she tries to say, but is once again cut off by incessant squabbling, the two men fighting like catty school children. Looking towards Val for help, Olive sees Everett talking to a man with big brown eyes, hair slicked back into a soft pomp, his body seemingly racked with anxiety. Everett and Val gently push him in Olive's direction, him ushering her away unnoticed.

“Thanks,” she sighs, staring into the pretty cow eyes of the man that rescued her. 

“No problem. Harry Crosby,” he says, gesturing to himself, a hand on his chest as he introduces himself. 

“Hey, Harry. Olive.” He stretches a hand out and she shakes it.

“I heard the commotion. I'm heading back to write to my wife. She would never let me live it down if I wasn't a gentleman to others. I'll walk ya home, Olive.”

“Oh, Harry. That's so kind. Thank you.” 

As he holds the door open for her, she hears the arguing come to a sudden stop followed by a surprised “Crosby?!” and Val storming up to them. “Stupid boys,” is all she hears as she exits the club with Harry, her arm linked platonically with his. 

[crazyunsexycool]

Beautiful Stranger

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: on the morning commute you come across a beautiful stranger.

Word count: 1.4K

Warning: pining (?), fluff I guess

A/N: Just a quick one shot. This is based on this song:

You shouldn’t stare, it wasn’t nice. But you couldn’t help it. The train was full as usual on your way to work. But across from you sat the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. Blond hair that was perfectly styled, a charcoal gray suit tailored to perfection, the most mesmerizing ocean eyes, pouty pink lips and you assumed the body under the clothes matched perfectly. It was unreasonable but you ached to know more of him.

You looked down at the book you were supposed to be reading but couldn’t help but take another peek up at him. Your eyes meet briefly before you turn away, only catching a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye. The corner of his lips curled upward in a smile that was quickly hidden by the newspaper he was reading. Was he smiling at you? Did you see him blushing? You couldn’t be certain but there was no time to dwell on it once you heard the doors slide open for your stop. Unfortunately. With your purse in hand you reluctantly get up and head toward the doors taking one last look at the beautiful stranger.

****

“Hello?” Nat waved her hands in front of your face. “I’ve been calling your name.”

“I’m sorry, what did you need?”

“What’s his name?”

Nat knew you so well. Whenever you got that dreamy look in your eye and all you could do was stare out of your office window it meant only one thing. You had a crush on some guy on your morning commute.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? You always get a name.”

“It was different this time. He was different.” You sighed as you thought about the man you’d seen early that day. “He was so beautiful, it was honestly not fair.”

Nat rolled her eyes but she loved your view on life. You weren’t naive but you’d chosen to view the world through rose colored lenses. There was a chance for love around every corner and the possibility of a fairytale ending for everyone.

“Yeah well you also tend to fall in love on the train every morning. So you might find someone else tomorrow.”

“But just imagine if I hadn’t had to get off at my stop. Maybe I could have gotten his name.” You pout up at her. “It could have been like a meet-cute. Better yet a fairytale.”

“Maybe next time then.”

“For now he shall be my beautiful stranger.”

“Ok, but now I need those files you worked on yesterday.”

“Way to burst my bubble.” You mutter making her chuckle.

~~~~~~~~

The next morning you made sure to be on time for your train in hopes of seeing him again. Did you put in extra effort into your look? Maybe. This time you had hyped yourself up and you were going to get his name at least.

The doors slide open and you push your way through to get in. There was no real way for this to work. With as many people that lived in New York what were the chances that he would be in the same train car as you? Still you remained hopeful that he’d be there. You stayed by the doors and held on to a handrail as you scanned the sea of faces but alas, he wasn’t there. The doors slide close and you look out of the windows and onto the platform. There rushing to try and get on was your beautiful stranger. Just a bit too late.

His cheeks were rosy as if he’d rushed to get down the stairs. Your eyes meet and he gives you a small wave and an apologetic smile. As the train begins to move you wave back and smile.

****

“You don’t get it. We were so close to actually meeting. He waved at me.” You recount the morning’s events to both Nat and Wanda.

“Are you sure it was at you?”

“Yes, we made eye contact and he smiled and waved at me.” You sighed happily as you dreamt up the possibilities once you met him.

Wanda shook her head but was amused at your ramblings. This was always the case at the weekly lunch meetings. You always had some sort of story about love and all the good things you’d seen that week. Nat usually offset it by some dark story of her own. Sunshine and midnight is what Wanda called you both. You were opposites in a lot of things. Where you wore light colors and frilly dresses, Nat chose dark colors and sleek designs. In situations like this Wanda couldn’t help but egg you on just to watch Nat roll her eyes and shake her head.

���We got it, he was hot.” Nat says with slight irritation in her voice.

“No Natasha. He wasn’t just hot he was beautiful. There’s a huge difference. But it’s fine I’ll drop the topic.”

“Thank you! Now can we talk about what we’re actually here for?”

“Of course.” Wanda nods with a smile. “What store do you want to go to first? I need a new pair of heels.”

“Finally something we can all agree on, shoes.” Nat raises her glass.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Days went by and although you didn’t see your beautiful stranger again you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Nat and Wanda both tried to convince you that you were romanticizing the moment too much but you begged to differ.

“You know I love you but you’re gonna go crazy thinking about that guy.” Wanda said cautiously.

“I’m not gonna go crazy. And it doesn’t matter, I plan to move on.”

“You sound like you dated and broke up.” Nat adds as you continue to walk down the street to your favorite coffee shop.

“I did, in my head at least.” You say with a laugh.

Nat pulls the door open and you walk in first. A few steps in and turn to tell them something when you collide with someone. It was hard enough that you almost fell back if it wasn’t for a pair of strong arms that kept you from doing so.

“I’m so sorry. Are you ok?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you.”

You and whoever you ran into said at the same time. Looking up to see who it was, your jaw drops.

“It’s you.”

You both say at the same time before you laugh softly.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

You giggle again as you both keep saying the same thing.

“You ok there?” Nat steps closer when she notices that this stranger hasn’t let you go.

“Yeah I’m fine Nat.”

‘Oh my god, It’s him.’ You mouth over your shoulder.

“Thank you for catching me.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Your beautiful stranger answers.

“We’re going to order. I’ll get your usual.”

“Thanks Wanda.” You say before turning back to look at him again.

There was a light pink dusting on his cheeks and he was scratching the back of his neck as he tried to say something.

“I’m Y/N.”

“Steve.” He replies.

“It’s nice to meet you Steve.”

“Yeah, it’s nice to meet you too.” His phone chimes and he pulls it out of his pocket. “Sorry, I have to go.” He says regretfully.

“Yeah, of course.”

He started walking out and you did your best to not watch him leave but it was difficult because he was so cute. Steve stops and turns back, catching your eye and he smiles. That smile alone is so very dreamy.

“Would you like to go out some time?” He asks once he’s in front of you.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Good. Could I get your number?”

He hands you his phone and you quickly type your number in and save it. He takes it back and sends you a text so that you have his number. Steve’s phone chimes again and this time he does leave. But not without one last look through the coffee shop window.

Once you sit down both Nat and Wanda agree that he is in fact beautiful. You tell them about how he asked you out. They immediately start talking about what you would wear on this date. Your phone chimes and you see it’s a text from Steve asking when you’re free. From that moment on you get to know each other more.

He’s still beautiful but now he’s less of a stranger.

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[sophfandoms53]

Finale nighttt omggg

It’s kinda surreal that it’s already here. This season flew by even if with these last couple weeks feeling like they dragged.

I’ve been kinda disconnected from the season getting into its latter half mainly bc I’ve had sm going on irl and working on personal projects and I’ve relied a lot on RHAP’s feed updates, twitter, and all you guys in the tag to keep me posted but it’s still been one heck of a ride and a fun season all around.

You guys are the highlight of every season for me and have been since I joined this place back during bb21 (awful season to start in but alas😭). I was 17 then, I’m 22 now and as of tomorrow I start my first real big girl job in the real world and it’s been taking up a lot of my time preparing for it in the last few weeks.

Won’t be saying my farewell to the tag yet though as the finale hasn’t aired and I like to reminisce before I make my final post but I rlly wanna thank you guys sm for making this experience the last 5 years so special and so much fun. It’s no longer big brother season without y’all and I love coming back here every year and losing our minds together over strangers in a parking lot.

So much more to say but I’m lowkey getting emotional so i’ll just finish off with yet another thank you and so much love to the lot of ya and lets have fun with this finale tonight for this wonderful and chaotic season❤️

[burningstarfishqueen]

a fallout fic, for the season five finale

He wasn’t alone. Adrien perched at the edge of the couch, Marinette lounging beside him. She’d finally relaxed. Graceful fingers played across her controller. Her chest rose and fell smoothly, a bit of her shirt wrinkling with each easy breath. 

Victory sounded. 

“Ha!” Her lipgloss shone in the sunlight. “Were you even trying?” 

He wanted to kiss her, but she’d been shy since their first. “Alas, your beauty overwhelms me effortlessly!” Hand clasped to his heart, he flopped into the pillows. 

“You’re such a dork.” 

“Your dork.” 

She leaned in. The bars on his window cast a shadow over her face. He reached out like it was a stain he could clean. His fingers brushed her skin and he could feel her shaking. His hand fell away. 

“Marinette-”

“When did it get so late? Time passes so quickly around you, Adrien. I have somewhere to be.” 

A glance at the clock showed it was patrol. He did need her to leave, but not like this. He caught her wrist in the gentlest hold. “Come by tomorrow?” 

“Of course.” She smiled brightly. “I love you, Adrien. Isn’t it great how everything worked out like this?” Lips pressed to his cheek in a lukewarm kiss. “Bye!” 

The way she ran brought back the first weeks of their relationship, when his touch triggered her and she fled from him. 

At least he had to meet Ladybug. Transforming, he escaped through the bars and vaulted to their meeting point. He sat down to wait for her. 

His father’s statue cut the sky like Chloé’s had, but Miraculous Ladybug wouldn’t whisk this one away. An eternal memory of the night his father died defeating Monarch. He’d thought he’d grieve more. Instead, the summer sun chilled him and a weight stayed in his stomach. He’d sobbed in Marinette’s arms the first day, but since then he couldn’t feel the right pain. 

Gabriel Agreste was a good man. He’d been right to call Chat an uncontrolled child. In his mind, he’d dared think his father was abusive. What sort of son thought that? He’d been ready to cataclysm him. 

His father was the kind of person who stood with Ladybug against Monarch, while Adrien, the superhero, crumbled alone in a white cell. 

Feet tapped on the rooftop behind him. He rearranged his features and turned to see her. Ladybug’s expression was unreadable, her face raised to the statue. 

“Hey, Bug.” 

A flinch. “Mon chatounet.” She offered her hand and he took it. 

They stood side by side, looking up. Chat’s lip twisted. 

“We should patrol,” she said. 

“There isn’t much to do anymore. Not after he saved us from Monarch.” 

“Are you mad at him?” 

Why had there been so much venom in his voice? His fingers clenched. “Why would you think that?” 

She laughed. “Nobody’s mad anymore. The world’s been great since I defeated Monarch. We, I mean. Gabriel Agreste and I!” 

“He helped you.” 

Her arms crossed over her chest as she twisted away. “That happened.” 

Frustration built in his throat. 

“Everything’s good again,” she said, “since he was so trustworthy.” 

He spat out the words: “I don’t believe you.” 

Slowly, Ladybug’s head tipped up. His father smiled down on her. 

“I’m right.” 

Her head shook, frantic. 

Chat put a hand on her shoulder and he was thrown on his back. Ladybug was above him, palms pressed to her ears. “Sorry!” 

Her lies, her new fears, even the way she stood added up to one thing. “He took your Miraculous.” 

She swallowed. “He made the Wish.” 

“For Maman. Père is Monarch.” His lungs didn’t have enough air. “Then how did he die?” 

Her breath hitched. He followed her eyes to the Black Cat ring. 

His body moved on its own, legs carrying him to the edge. 

“Chaton-”

He hardly heard her. 

Dropping into the square, he stood at his father’s feet, craning his neck to try to see his face. It was too far. 

“Cataclysm.” 

Rot ripped through the statue in moments. If only it could’ve killed the real thing so quickly. Magic ripped into the ground. It’d leave a scar. 

Ashes rained around Chat Noir, thick enough to blot out the sun. 

[acknowledgetheabsurd]

It is only 3 o'clock. And yet the day has already been busy. I slept well but perhaps not enough. So I woke up with a raised eyebrow and it took me a long time to realize that the sun was in my eyes. I woke up and, after seeing my father, tired and discouraged to see him suffering again and again, I decided to go up to my little green room to make arrangements and wait there in any action for the arrival of the doctor. Upstairs, I had to stop for a second in my impulse. There was sunshine and a festive air... and you, everywhere. A hint of sharp pain, insurmountable nostalgia and a suffocating sweetness forced me to take back a lost moment.

I stayed there until noon and when I came down, I would have been at a loss to say what I had done there. I float in a kind of plenitude, in this life pushed to the paroxysm that you made me know and where joy, sorrow, hope, despair, desire, nostalgia, recognition, satisfaction, everything mixes, exhausting everything, pushing everything, devastating everything to make everything be reborn and start again. I needed you. I screamed, I screamed; I needed you to hear me and answer my call. O happiness! The answer was there: your two letters from Monday and Tuesday were there and they were just as I wanted them.

There are times when death doesn't mean anything anymore, and before I go any further and move on to less happy events, I want to answer your letters first. Don't be afraid, my darling. Luckily, life still loves me enough to never abandon me, and the fact that I even complain about it and revolt against this boredom that is winning me over and this desert where I am struggling is proof of this. What would I have to ask her if I didn't feel her value in me, her echo near or far? And then... those who are born alive, die alive and I even wonder to what extent life does not go beyond their existence... but where am I going? Forgive me, my love; I am going astray. I just wanted to assure you of something that you never doubted; even at the moments when I feel the deadest soul, a thousand embers are there that fizzle in silence and that all the ice in the world would not reach. These thousand embers, I reserve them all for you. They are waiting for you, as well as the ashes - alas.

As for the external life that you advise me, this one is too indifferent to me at this moment. It does not exist. My desires can't touch her at any minute. I regret, moreover, because it distracts me, perhaps, and I must say and confess that during this absence I have only one idea: to distract myself, because the pain I feel is too acute to find the slightest pleasure in it and my courage is a little weakened after these last months of tiredness. I'm glad you rented a piano. It is a living soul, suddenly installed in the house. I didn't know that F [rancine] could play so well.  Why doesn't she work?  Push her again. Give her the boldness she may lack. If she can do something big, it would be a real pity to stop along the way. How are the children? And your mom? And your brother, should he still be with you?

But these questions bring me back to my day and the sad events of the morning. The doctor, who has recovered from cystitis, came this morning to see my father who has had a sore throat and a slight fever for two days. Alas! An infectious pharyngitis has just set in and blurred everything again, before the first serum injection. All this would be nothing if he didn't suffer from it, but it is very painful and complicated by the fact that he can't breathe well except through his mouth, which dries out his already wounded throat. Moreover, he, who is never hungry, no longer eats, having too much difficulty swallowing, and all the admirable patience he has shown up to now has disappeared and has given way to an impotent revolt that I can't look at for long without having my heart in a vice.

We will start the aerosols again tomorrow and from this afternoon the nurse will come every three hours to give him extra shots of penicillin. What misery, my love! What misery! If you only knew! Finally, I always hope, with all my heart, that a day will come for him when he will feel at least a little relieved, and that he will not leave this earth without having again shared moments of rest. For the moment it is especially necessary to arm oneself with patience, to help him, as much as possible, to find his own and to wait. But there are hours when one no longer understands this continual crushing that is inflicted on him and that nothing can justify, and then one would bite if one had something to bite. Here we are.

But the clock is ticking and I must begin the cure. Maybe tonight, if I'm not too tired, I'll write to you again. The more I hate words, letters, paper, ink, the more time passes and these words add up to each other, the more I feel the need to write to you. It is incomprehensible. I love you, my darling, my love, my beautiful love. Oh, no; I don't want to beat you today, but I want to kiss you, kiss you, kiss you again, kiss you until I lose my breath and until you are in front of me and I can't push you away because of my lipstick. Ah, that day! This moment!

Maria Casarès to Albert Camus, Correspondance, February 2, 1950 [#165]

[thessalian]

Thess vs the Desert

Well, I seem to have aimed a bit for POSEIDON without really meaning to, but it's been quite the ride thus far.

LAST NIGHT

Hmmkay, what've we got this way? Ooh, a settlement.

...Well, fuck you too.

"Hair like blood", huh? That's ... a descriptor. I guess.

You ... pen the machines and slaughter them that way, huh? HAEPHESTUS probably doesn't like that very much... Yeah, see? You guys are such efficient hunters you get Thunderjaws thrown at you. Yes, I will help.

So ... yeah, I heard something about this from the flood people - you have to trade machine parts for water that's not polluted? This is some Immortan Joe bullshit, right here.

Right. None of this right here is too onerous. No Thunderjaw yet. This here is just a Tuesday, frankly.

(I mean, literally. It is Tuesday.)

So ... "bagged and tagged" means to bury with honours here? That's actually kind of fascinating. Because what it means in the real is just "put in body bag and tie a tag to the toe to identify them", but because they all wear dog tags... Huh. I do love how the Cradle people worked out things based on a combination of religion and really basic anthropology.

Wait. The Tenakth -- the TENakth -- call on the Ten. I checked, and it's not branches of military, unless they added more in this world's future / past / whatever. Hmm. How many subordinate functions does GAIA have? ...Nine. And GAIA makes ten. Clever.

Right. Onward to get your fellow hunters their honourable burial-- Oh, hey, you got a survivor! Great!

Yes. That is a Thunderjaw. Now stop yelling at me I am hiding in this bush for a reason.

Gun gone, gun gone ... Thunderjaw gone without firing off a shot.

Oh, you want me to go on ahead with the hearts? You're trusting me big time. But I guess since I just two-shotted a Thunderjaw for you, that's fair.

I'mma hunt those Frost Bellowbacks first. Sorry not sorry.

And see? I barely just beat you here with your injured comrade.

Oh. You think something bad is going on in your capital whatever. And having to pay that kind of premium for potable water wasn't enough? Yes, fine, I will meet you there later but I kinda need some Tallnecks first.

Also ... hi, Tuvok.

Right. Gonna edge my way south a bit for a few more campfires and... Ooh. Question mark. What is--? Oh. Oseram camp.

Ah. You were waiting on those folks on the other side of the mountains. Yeaaaaaaah that didn't go well. I'll help you deal with that tomorrow.

THIS MORNING

Right. Going to go track what happened to the rest of that dude's crew.

Rumble rumble-- This is going to end with a Rockbreaker, isn't it.

Alas, poor Lunda. Also ... yep. Rockbreaker.

There is some shiny down here. Hope Porguf doesn't mind my having hit this place first. Well, if he does, that's his problem. I've got Burrowers and a probably-Rockbreaker to deal with.

Aha! Way out! ...Wait, did I just get trapped in-- No, there's enough room to sneak through the gap that's left.

Yeeeeeeeeeeeeep. Rockbreaker. Sneak. In. Quietly.

Okay. I am concealed in a high place. SHOW YOURSELF, YOU SUBTERRANEAN ANNOYANCE-ENGINE!

Theeeeeeeeeeeere you are. Okay. This might get spicy. POONK.

...

......

.........I. Just. One-shotted it.

I JUST ONE-SHOTTED A ROCKBREAKER AND THEREFORE WIN AT EVERYTHING!

Right. More shinies and ... yes, Porguf, you can have your lockbox back.

Aloy, only you would consider "vertically up a mountain" to be a 'shortcut'.

And now that I've mastered gliding, I can-- SUNWINGS SHIT INTO A BUSH.

Okay, there's you dealt with. I'll turn in this quest and see what I have to climb for the Tallneck--

What do you mean, "it looks damaged"?!?

Right. Porguf, here. I'll be back after I look at that apparently damaged Tallneck and maybe take out a rebel outpost or something.

Oseram have been trying to take down a Tallneck?!? Ambitious little buggers, I'll give you Oseram weirdoes that, but HAEPHESTUS clearly is not a fan of their plans. But I need to do the same idiocy that got you dipshits killed so I can fix your dipshittery.

Okay ... one anchor, and we get Burrowers. Bye, Burrowers.

Two anchors, aaaaaaand ... Sunwings.

YES I KNOW I COULD USE THE BALLISTA ON THE SMALLER MACHINES, BUT I DON'T WANT TO! THESE THINGS HAVE NO PRECISION!

Huh. Bellowback. ...Acid Bellowback, in point of fact. New scan, huzzah. Now, lemme pop you like a pimple-- Theeeeeeeeere we go.

Okay, those are impressive when they go down.

Aaaaaand reboot! Huzzah! BEGONE, FOG OF WAR!

Right. I probably do have time to hit a rebel outpost but I do not have the energy to do so. I need to save spoons for work. So lemme clear these Burrowers out of my way, set up at this shelter, and I can deal with other stuff later or tomorrow or whatever.

I do not know what's been waking me so damn early lately. Maybe I need thicker curtains. Eh, at least it gives me "wake up to the Forbidden West" time...

[caramia1977]

And it was realized, now was not only the time to let them go but a time of great change. A Tupperware container holding the remains of a giant angel on earth. Surely it couldn't contain more than an arm, possibly a foot but who's to say when the bones are burned away. No, it wasn't just the sadness at the thought of spreading those ashes in waters, waters he would hate, it was the end and my beginning. But alas therein lies the problem. Remove all excuses remove all attachments that bound me to my bed to slumber for weeks on end. Remove the obstacles and enter the race. It shall feel like the world is lighter, my back will hurt less but did any of it mean anything at all?

We've arrived at part two. The military sent him. He swooped in to save a soldier. And save a soldier he did. Months passed as their spirits bonded to one another. Unbeknownst to all this union would be energized by those who have gone before us. Of this I'm sure. Day in and day out they wondered what else the universe would reveal. One knew a change was coming and the other knew a change should come but the later won't identify the who,what, where, when and why. But that's okay because I'll be here when he figures it out. In the eyes of the beholder every second spent as one was exactly how their souls connected, grew and spoke to one another. But what happens when space and time (which isn't real) separate the two?

STOP PART 3: My protector and confident has been gone 31 days and 3 years. The Marine has been gone 497 days. I've been out of work since the soldier fell ill. While loathing my existence without my father and slowly, selfishly dying of malnutrition on my sofa for all the world to see which consisted of exactly 2 people...in swept a smell, a feeling, a well loved memory the one who was not to return from a life time ago. He may not have known (although I have told him, who knows when he's listening) he saved my life. He showed up, he made jokes at my expense, to my chagrin he encouraged me to eat and when I say encouraged I mean harassed me to eat. I was skin and bones. Basically the same as I am now. But in a turn of events, life's rendition of whiplash, I fell in love with him. Every single thing about him I fell in love with. And in an even more peculiar turn of events he fell in love with me. I saw nothing past him but I SAW him. I see him today. I see him without using my eyes. I reveled in every second we spent together, I still do. I needed that time every second and so did he. I still do. But tomorrow I'm going to set my giant earth angel free and that is the day when everything will change. And let me forewarn you that "everything will change" will be read by all as "so basically you're going to return to being an active member of society and complain about missing your twin flame?" . Yes, yes Susan I am but I digress. I will walk away from the beloved Ghosts of my past and face the world and its grotesque people alone without my love. Too much sadness too much pain not enough people that I love out there.

STOP, NO REALLY, PART 3: I think of the future days spent away from him and it's not ideal. I hate it actually. Working 1 full time job is enough to cause someone to climb to the top of the Bay Bridge and patiently wait as the negotiator trys to convince you that your life is worth it and you are loved. okay Officer You've done enough work today you can return to pulling people over for a flashing tale light. But setting my goal on 2 jobs seems lofty. I don't look forward to the time away from him. The only solice I can find is that thoughts of him and I will saturate my view and keep me going until I can get back to him. This was always supposed to happen. But the universe has an agreement with God and is very tight lipped so I waited 10 years and now, now I want another 10, 30 I want enfitity next to him. I hope he wants the same. For the first time in my life I want to jump with both feet holding onto only what I can grasp with my left hand while holding my right hand squarely on his heart. I am not to be confused with an easy to get along with puddle of love who reads soft porn romance novels while weeping when the gardner leaves the rich widow for the younger yoga instructor. I am a lioness. I love him fiercely. I love him with my words and when I glance at him sleeping. I love him with my hands when his shoulders hurt because "tonight the cards just weren't on his side". I adore him when I watch him with my cub. My cub loves him when she watches him with me. And I love him, I adorn him with love when our bodies are connected.

THE END: Well, not really. More like when the Grateful Dead rebranded as Dead and Company. Things changed but damn that's one fine band. And damn I have one fine man. Hey Marine! Hey Giant Earth Angel soon to be a Giant Earth mermaid! Watch out for us. Guide us always towards one another. Let the immense immeasurable love I have for you two continue to transfer to him.

The dog needs to be walked and I really need a tattoo. Until next time... knock twice before you open the bedroom door.

January 8th 2023 8:35pm

[yourtrekker]

Suicide 101

Welcome to the confession of a passive suicidal!

The thought of my demise has been with me for nearly 3 decades now. Since my teen age years, I have been entertaining the idea of 'killing myself'. For me, it is such a sweet reward to end life in this cruel world. Though I never had the courage to plan or attempt it, I always carry the idea that one day if things go south again, I will plan my way out.

Through out my 20s, different life events prompted me to think of ending my own life. It became stronger when my grandmother, who raised me, passed away. Her absence filled the creeping desire to end my life. Back then, I firmly believe that it is a 'sin' to realize the idea of suicide. However, meeting different people, hearing different views and opinions about life in general, and experiencing life my self, made me question about life, suicide, sin, and everything around it.

Now in my 30s, my economic status has changed. It improved, yes! I am grateful for everything. But, I faced different life challenges (the adult kind), which made me cling on the idea that when I can't bear it any longer, I would just do it. Compared to my previous issues, it became slightly better that I am able to earn and access adult money. I know better on how to escape the sadness and loneliness in my life. There's retail therapy, where you buy small (sometimes big) things to fill the void in your day or your life. There's also food! I indulge myself into self and instant gratification allowing me to forget a bad day and alas another day added into my life that I wish never existed.

Obviously, I am still here, breathing, and typing this essay of so called confession. Despite the 'catchy title' (I thought), I am not here to teach how to do it. If I am the one writing it, I may be the most unbelievable author because surely I haven't done it. There are many ways but none of them I dared to try, perhaps, because even if my mouth is blabbing about wanting to commit 'it' my subconscious mind still wants to live. Maybe that's what you call 'basic instinct'. But it would still be all about suicide. The journey of someone my kind, the 'passive suicidal'.

They said there are four types of suicide -- egoistic, altruistic, anomic, and fatalistic. Egoistic is the absence of social integration. Altruistic is to sacrifice one's own life to fulfill an obligation. Anomic is the lack of social regulation that occurs during the high levels of stress/frustration. And, Fatalistic is for when someone is placed under extreme rules or of high expectations.

I guess I am more inclined with egoistic suicide. I am just so tired of participating in this world. You wake up, work, pay bills, occasional fun, face problems, and then repeat. I don't want to be in another 3 decades feeling like 'zombie', yes you're animated but not really living. I really don't like the idea of surviving a day. In my head, I always find myself asking, why do I have to survive each day, each trial when I didn't even choose to be here? I always question my creator that if I have the desire to end it all why did I even have to be here in the first place. It is the most baffling irony one person has to come face to face with.

Another thing I wish to share to the world, especially Christians, is that we always say heaven is real. It is paradise. It is a place free of anything negative. It is a life free of worries, fears, loneliness, sadness, inequality, and the list can go on and on. But, why can't we choose to go there now? Why many of us fear death of our own even of our loved ones if we truly believe we are all going to such place? Or, are we just really trying to appease ourselves that in the long history of mortals we tell all sorts of things that can alleviate our suffering in this cruel existence?

I am envious whenever I see people fighting for their lives. Those with overflowing determination to see tomorrow. They are mostly renaissance men of their own who wants to prove the world they possess the right to live in this world. Sometimes, people with pure innocence just there standing vigorously living. Whilst, there's me ready to give up my life, easily giving it all away to anyone who would ask for it, and always feeling unfit to be part of this world.

I still believe that God is real. God is love. God is good. In my heart of heart I know I truly believe. Which is why I also learned through times to just let things unfold. Life has a way of leading our paths to where it should flow anyway.

I am not sure for how long I could hold myself together. I am not confident I could always choose to live one more day. But, whoever you are reading this, hey you, we're in the same shoes. Similar, maybe not the same, but we are still here. And we've survived all of yesterdays that we thought we won't. That's all I have to say.

#yourtrekker 🐧

[earth-out]

2am on November 7th 2023

I am in tears and drenched in nostalgia. I thought I'd take a dip into the past and ended up wading for a while.

Holy fuck I cannot believe the last time I was truly in here was more than 10 years ago. I'm not sure what to make of that but looking back at this corner of the internet I spent years of my life on... it's simply too much to bear. I've consumed too much of the past too quickly and now all I feel is lightheaded and misty.

Nostalgia can feel like a drug. A high that I return to, specifically this part of my life during my early 20s. I'm now in my early 30s and I somehow still feel the same. Maybe less morose haha, less compelled to harp on all the sad stuff. I guess part of the growing up means I've welcomed the sad parts, made a home for them, and allowed them occupancy whenever they please. The allowing part is key. I should be sleeping right now but alas, one thing that hasn't changed is feeling like the only person awake in the world riddled with anxiety because the uncertainty of tomorrow only makes me want to extend the night for as long as possible. I wonder if anyone else feels this way at this moment while I thumb away at my screen.

I say this often on this blog but I miss writing. Reading my posts help keep these parts of my alive. It's like reading someone else's work that's tinged with sadness and dare I feel, hope? It's a compilation of a person who hasn't given up, who chooses to move through it, and summons these words up during the witching hour to make sense of my swirling thoughts. Thoughts aren't real but this nostalgia I'm experiencing tonight is very much here in the room.

Not sure why I return to this blog from time to time. Nobody knows it even exists. Perhaps it's a comfort I seek whenever I need a reminder that I was noticed, loved, admired, considered, and impactful. That I meant something to someone. That my interests were interesting to like-minded internet folks turned friends. What a treasured time that was.

[w4s4b1p3a]

Roadrunner, The Modern Lovers

I... am having a cold one in the departure lounge to wash off the overpriced bakso I ordered on impulse. I managed to kill some 30 minutes, sooo, only 40 minutes to go. Only? Well, I’m 1000 years early to something for once; perhaps I just have been gagging to leave.

This Bintang isn’t sitting well in my stomach. (Omg I have just touched my eye). Also, only just realised, my tummy and probably entire body have not been my hugest fans these past few days. I lasted 24 hours without food yesterday (another world record). I should co-write “how to be a massive idiot during the COVID-19 outbreak” with the dickheads in Canggu. You would read it. And if it became a hit, your dad, too. I’ve never been sure about anything.

Guess this is it! A 24-year old baby’s first ever solo trip (as a working adult not a reckless uni student). Kind of wish I was boarding a Garuda flight to Jakarta, not going to lie. Typing that achieved nothing, but alas it made me tear up. Imagine us, in bed, back home. My cat could join the party. (We know she would, voluntarily. Without an invitation). Anyway. Duvet days. You and me.

I read more pages of that book I told you about. It’s telling us to sack the idea of ‘hope’ to eliminate fear, essentially to achieve mindfulness. If we keep ‘hoping’ for a better tomorrow, for a taller, wittier, more Alex Turner looking fella (joking) then we get robbed of what is in front of us (a patient, sensible, yet grump of an editor). We will never be happy this way. We think there is always something (or someone) to hold on to, which probably isn’t the case. Instead, we should hold on to what is real and present: ourselves — warts and all. This way we can also learn to abandon the idea of escapism. Basically, she’s telling me to suck it up and DEAL with it. In the most literal sense.

When we try to hold on to something, whether it’s a coping mechanism to ‘get away’ from our suffering, we are scrambling for security and in the end are only letting in momentary joy. When we should be letting in whatever emotions that rise up, without judgement. Hey, the only difference between a flower and a weed is judgement, right? Also, this way we don’t always have to make sense of things. Sure, I may think I’m just another one of those ‘indulge in’ ‘nestled in’ churnalists. But, why can’t I just let myself be? And improve naturally. Of course, it’s easier to judge and label, and hence, operate with fear (of never being good enough for instance). Achieving ‘hopelessness’ this way helps us to be grateful of whatever is given to you then and there (mindfulness), not what we can achieve tomorrow or next year. Sounds pretty rudimentary if you ask me.

My outlook on life can be quite black and white. It’s either, this or that. Hopeful or fearful. Time to update a few things? Perhaps.

The airport air feels sanitised. At least it smells like it. No signs of panic nor hysteria at all. Just people patiently waiting and hoping to be somewhere else. The irony.

Stay safe,

Yours x

Mar 21, 2020

[handelplayssims]

It’s the final day with the Wallace household! Such a long awaited day is here! And it’s time to go to work with Ashlynn. Time to search some criminals! ...these are the exact same criminals as I saw last time. Hmm. Now our next promotion marker is to go on patrol. Which I could do by myself but eh. Let’s just do these suggested work tones instead. Analyze some evidence is next up and then, we travel to a crime scene. Today we’re off toooo, ah, the Elderberry household. Lots of items scorched, just like last time. Serial arsonist! Now after interviews with witnesses, we go back. Time  to cross-reference the database multiple times and gain those clues. Next is to take a police report from a civilian but we don’t have any normal folks around just yet. So analyze evidence once more. And there they are! Oooh! Going on Patrol is now offered! Nice! Let’s eat some food and then head out. Annnd immediately sims are fighting with each other. Excellent. Citations for everyone! And we get our promotion. We’re a corporal now! And we get loads of prison furniture. Hmm. To home with us! Where Ashlynn shall immediately conk out on bed. Policing very tiring work, after all.

Onto Kiara who, again, wants to paint. The world is getting nice and golden from sunset happening so let’s paint towards it, shall we? Zayne...again, wants to solve hard problems so let’s gain a logic skill. Santiago still wants to complete that work task and now has the actual time to do so! Oh, wait no, he’s sleepy. Well, let’s interview and write up about one person and then head to bed. Looks like we got across the street is Dwight LeBlanc! He’s another randomly generated household that I manage to play a few times and then never again. Alas.

Oooh, this one actually turned out real well! Also, Zayne went to bed but got startled by the monster under it...but now he’s befriended him! Good for you Zayne. Time for a munch for him and then after the article from Santiago, they’ll both head to bed. ...I should remember articles when I just want a little bit of money.

There is something I want to check though. See I want to get into a home over in the more gated community in Oasis Springs. Especially since there’s actual fishing points around there. Can we move into Granda Palace? ...nope! Still 64 thousand plus short, even if I sell off all of our furniture. And I wouldn’t do that, I’d want to nab a lot for moving purposes! Alas, we’re stuck in this small home for a bit longer. Oh and Kiara’s back to being a one-star celebrity for her paintings! Nicely done you. ...oh, I need to get rid of that picky eater trait. If I switch households while that’s still active, the trait will become stuck on her. Doing that and oh, she’s very close to finishing skilling painting! Nice! Ah, Ashlynn is awake and- is sad. Because someone died. That means that it’s immediately time for-

Nieghborhood Watch!

Shulk Monado in the Shulk and Fiora household has died. Shulk was so angry he burst into flames and died.

NOOOOOO! NOT MY MONADO BOY!

Nigel Yanez in the Yanzez household has died. Nigel was milking it and got too close to a cowplant.

Oh that’s the one Ashlynn knew of. Though, checking the social bar, she didn’t even know a single trait so eh. I’d say grieve today and clear out the moodlet tomorrow but eh. We’re about to bail from this household! Annnd yes! We managed to get painting level 10 with Kiara! We’re done with this household! Let’s go and roll up another one to play! It shall be...man. It’s the Stuart-Waddel’s. Man. Vampires in the desert here we go. See you all then.

[kittensandforeheadkisses]

Dancing on your heartstrings

Chapter 2

Ranveer POV

If his majesty bothered to get off his ass and clean the very place he sleeps in, Raghav's room would be every guy's wet dream. But like every one of those guys, his place was cluttered with dirty laundry, stacks of textbooks and magazines on desks, estranged chairs and beanbags.

Ranveer doesn't include himself in that stereotype.

But the view through his windows. Oh the view.

He lives on the upper level of the building, the huge windows of his room facing the west side through which a beautiful sunset was visible. He'd bet it'd be more beautiful with the city lights twinkling through his window. Ranveer wasn't the type to stop for a moment and soak in his surroundings, but when he's forced to work with tardy pricks like the one downstairs, he's forced to stop and see the world around him. Forced to listen to the voices in his head.

"Enjoying the view?" A voice drawled behind him.

From all the glimpes he had of him in college, Raghav always had this relaxed, easygoing vibe about him. But as if being in his personal space losend some hidden thread he never knew he had, Raghav seemed content, having this almost lazy energy around him as he leaned against the doorjamb of his room.

Ranveer poked the pile of clothes dumped unceremoniously on the floor with his leg. "Atleast inhe washing machine me toh daal ke aa skta hai na. Saaf room me rehne se maut ati h kya?"

He waved a hand, "Niche jaane me alas ata h. Weekend me jab kapde dhounga toh ek saath le jaunga"

His eyebrows shot to his forehead. " Tu apne kapde khud dhota hai?"

An affronted frown taking place on his forehead, Raghav put his hand on his chest, "okay, that amount of surprise is offending. What kind of brute do you think I am?"

"The one who sits on his ass all day and does stupid shit", he grumbled.

" What was that? "

"Apne room ki toh tune dhajeeya udai hui hai. Tere sar pe nachenge kya?! " He snapped instead.

"Abe aaj hi nachne thodi na lag jaenge chilbuje. Abhi song and choreography bhi decide nhi hui hai. We'll take some inspiration today, loosely try to blend our genres in this limited space to see if something works out, then we'll dance for real starting tomorrow when the basement is ready to use."

One eyebrow rose,"Tere pass basement bhi hai? "

"Of course we have a basement. When one of your parents is a professional dancer, you'll have a basement."

No you don't, atleast not for Ranveer, but he wasn't about to get into it with Raghav, of all people. His thoughts are already boggled enough, dumping the specifics of his personal life is not going to help the situation.

They dumped the clothes on the chair, pushing the clutter of his room against the wall. When somewhat of a decent space was created, they both huddled together and peered into Raghav's laptop, looking for the perfect fusion of classical notes and hip hop beats.

A scent wafted from Raghav's curls whenever he leaned in to look at the screen closely, some strange blend he couldn't put a finger on, and it was distracting him from the task at hand. It was made worse when they both had to take laptop from each other's lap, the brush of limbs during those brief moments made him strangely aware, in a way he hadn't been before. It was driving his thoughts at such a speed,they were slowly becoming incomprehensible to him. He wondered if his lack of sleep is finally catching up with him. Which is why when Raghav suggested that they contact a guy he knows who can create a blend for them when they weren't able to find a perfect mix, he got smack on his head in return.

"Ow, what was that for? " Raghav cried out in outrage, rubbing the back of his skull as if it was hit by a book thicker than the block that was his head.

"You could have started with that and not wasted an hour on weaving through the internet for some washed up tune when we can have an original mix!" Ranveer cried out in equal outrage, "Dimaag toh laga liya kar thoda adimanav."

He grumbled something too low to understand. Ranveer was too flushed to make him repeat.

When they settled on which songs would make the perfect mix, they started trying on some moves. Since there was no blended tape to dance to, they tentatively tried on the moves, moving their bodies minimally due to the small space.

Ranveer noticed that his partner, even in such a cramped space, was smoothly able to move his body through the gilded maneuvers and struck the postures accurately. He didn't know why he was surprised. They were selected to represent their college for a reason. Of course he was going to be brilliant. But even as Raghav moved tentatively to test which moves will go seamlessly with music playing in his head, Raveer was mesmerized. He always liked kathak. But after completing 2 levels of the dance form, he knew it wasn't for him. His body never moved the way it did with hip hop freestyle. He likes to give rein to that part of his brain which craves the freedom of movement to the beats.

But when Raghav did a particular move, he knew he had to learn the maneuver, the majestic posture. Knew it was going in the choreography. When he voiced the same, Raghav's eyes twinkled.

"Of course ye jaega. It's me who's choreographing after all." The buffoon actually dusted the invisible lint off his shoulder.

Ranveer merely rolled his eyes and tried to do the same maneuver. He knew he failed miserably. Raghav, ever the gracious master, led him through the movements. And he was good at it. Both at dancing and teaching. But something didn't feel right. Try as he might, he wasn't able to perform the move as smoothly as possible.

"You're arching your arms excessively here." Raghav corrected the arch accordingly and guided the arm swiftly through the move. "And here," he tapped on his archillies heel, "you're undercompensating it."

"I cannot strain it anymore" He gritted through his teeth. This is why he tapped out of this dance form. It demands too much of his body.

"Of course you can. Here," Raghav tried to stretch the muscle, but pain, swift and blinding, went through his leg. He couldn't control the howl that came out of his mouth, nor could he control his balance, toppling right into the floor, half of his fall cushioned by Raghav. But not the right half, no. Upper part of his body slammed directly onto the floor, knocking the breath out of him.

He was too far gone in pain and misery to notice when he was rolled on his back, Raghav's panicked voice calling out to him. Too blinded by the pain in his ankle and his chest and his nose and his eyes and his forehead to see the unusually flushed face of his partner peering at him, shaking him to get up.

You're making it worse, asshole he wanted to roar, but blackness enveloped him when he opened his mouth to curse at him.

***

Dancing On Your Heartstrings

Chapter 1

Ranveer POV

"Ranveer Kashyap. Sweet name, by the way."

Ranveer turned to face the boy －the eternally exhausting, exasperating boy－ and said, "Hindi bol le, angrez ki aulad."

Raghav put down his coke and feigned hurt, placing a hand above his heart. "Aap mujhe aisa kaise keh sakte hain?" he said in a dramatically British accent. 

For the nth time that day, Ranveer sighed. Why did he ever think this could work out? No- Why did the principal think this could work out. He and Raghav could never work together. The boy was simply too… draining. He was a goddamned vampire dressed in neon jackets that sucked your life force out of you. Two days with him and Ranveer was already thinking of getting a prescription of migraine meds. 

"The competition is in two weeks, Raghav. And we haven't even choreographed yet!" 

Raghav, however, didn't seem the slightest bit pressed. "So? We can choreograph in two days, practice for ten days, rehearse on the last two days. Easy."

Ranveer wanted to grab him by the neck and shove his face into chullu bhar paani. "Easy? Easy!? Easy hogi meri chappal. Tu do minute cooperate to kar. Main akela thodi kar lunga ham dono ka dance choreograph?"

"Arey bas, yaar. Chill kar na thoda. See, main kathak se related kuch choreograph karta hu, tu hip hop jaisa kuch dhundh. Dono ke genres intermix to karke kuch dynamic banate hai."

"Dynamic to apna ban jayega. Pata bhi hai BCPA ki team ne kab ki preparations shuru kar di? Aur tune aaj ka pura din waste karwa diya. Na kuch kiya na karne diya," Ranveer grumbled, shoving his feet into his shoes. He shouldered his bag and walked out of the practice room. After waiting for a while, he noticed Raghav was still in the room. "Chaliye, maharaj. Mujhe is room ko lock karke warden ko keys bhi deni hai."

Raghav was rooted in his place. This guy was just one weird thing after another. His coffee-brown curls really looked like a bird's nest after a whole another day of goofing around and doing no real practice. His face had a thoughtful expression, eyes squinting, gazing into the distance. "Oye!" Ranveer called out to him. Then, he seemed to come back to his senses. 

For some reason, there was a slight tint of redness on his cheeks. Perhaps from exhaustion. Maybe being stupid did make you tired, Ranveer had thought idiots never ran out of energy. 

"Listen," Raghav called out. Ranveer quirked up an eyebrow. "You want to practise right? Come to my house. I don't have any siblings, to koi pareshan bhi nahi karega. We can look up dance moves and choreograph together."

Ranveer wanted to refuse, but when he actually considered it, it wasn't that bad of an idea. Begrudgingly, he replied, "Okay."

Raghav flashed him a grin, showing his pretty teeth that Ranveer was always so tempted to break. 

Once again, Ranveer sighed. "Ab maharaj baahar aayenge ya aapke liye paalki bulai jaae?"

• • • 

It was five pm when the bell to the patil household rang.

"Aati hu!" chimed in a woman's voice from inside the house. Not long after, the door opened. 

It was Mrs Patil, Raghav's mother, probably. She looked at him, head to toe, from his sleek black hair, to the slight stubble on the dark skin of his face. Shit, should he have shaved? Was she judging him? He was already going mad overthinking. But then Mrs Patil tilted her head and asked, "Ranveer?" 

Oh, she has never seen me before. That's why. Ranveer smiled and nodded, earning a warm smile from Mrs Patil too. She had benevolent-looking eyes and deep dimples. So that's where Raghav got them from. Ranveer had always thought he got them from his father, since he looked so much like the man. 

"Arey, andar aao na, beta. Raghav told me you would come today. Do you want chai?"

Ranveer took the corner seat of the sofa and looked around. Mrs Patil hadn't waited for his answer and was already pouring a cup of chai for him. "Thank you," he said and took the cup she handed him.

"If you need anything, I'll be in the kitchen, beta. Raghav bhi aata hi hoga."

With that, she disappeared into the kitchen. Ranveer sipped on his chai and cursed himself for not asking her for her name. Now he'll have to be stuck calling her "Mrs Patil" or "Aunty".

Thought the word aunty wouldn't suit her. Despite her age, she had the sort of radiance in her that many women seemed to lack. Until now, Ranveer couldn't place a name on it, but now he realised that he had seen the same untiring energy in Raghav. He had only met Raghav's father, because he also taught at their college. So he had connected all the dots about him to his father and filled in the blank spaces, the things he didn't know about them, with his imagination. 

It had been easy, both him and his father were equally energetic. Though the teacher knew how to keep a class in check, and Raghav didn't even know how to keep himself in check.

But now he realised, Raghav was much more like his mother than his father. In only a few seconds, his mother had made Ranveer recall Raghav so many times you'd think he was in love with him, thinking of him every few seconds and all.

Ranveer pushed the intrusive thought out of his mind. Phew, his mind could be a weird place. Especially when he was drinking chai with this much masala. He was pretty sure he was tasting mulethi, and he'd never had mulethi in chai before. Weird, weird family and their weird, weird chai habits. 

He was finished with his cup when the door sprung open. Raghav, who didn't even have the common sense of not calling someone to his home when he's not even at home himself, grinned at him and threw his bag beside him. "I'll go wash my face. You can wait for me in my room."

Ranveer went to put his cup in the kitchen sink, but he couldn't stop the heat in his cheeks from seeing the grin on Raghav's face. One look at him and Ranveer's own brain betrayed him, replaying that same intrusive thought for some reason. 

Weird. 

[atlasseas]

The Devil’s Hairstyle

Summary: You decide to style Matt’s hair while showering together.

Warnings: Pure fluff, showering in a nonsexual way

Word Count: ~1.2k

A/n: Phew, this one has been in the drafts for a while. I couldn’t figure out how to start it for the longest time but here you go! More fics in progress, to be finished (hopefully?) soon. Also, can we talk about the removal of the Marvel shows on Netflix? And they haven’t said where they will be moved to? What am I supposed to do with my time now?

*not my gif*

You sigh as the steaming hot water trickles down your back. It has been quite the day, to say the least. In short, everything that could have possibly gone wrong did. There is nothing you want more than to take a hot shower, put on some comfy clothes, curl up in bed, and sleep through the rest of the week. Preferably, all of these activities include Matt, of course. But alas, Matt has yet to come home, and you have work tomorrow. Well, at least you can do activities one through three.

Internally groaning and the horrors of the real world, you finally start your shower routine, after standing under the hot water for at least five minutes. You’re so wrapped up in your self pitying (everyone is entitled to a healthy amount of self pitying after a long day, okay?) that you don’t notice that Matt has returned home until he joins you in the shower and pulls you into a strong embrace.

“How are you?” he mumbles into your hair as he fills his four working senses with you. You aren’t the only one who has been longing for this moment all day. These are Matt’s favorite moments, where, just for a moment, he can block out the chaos of the world that too often overwhelms his senses until it’s just you and him, nothing more, nothing less.

“Just peachy,” you reply while burying your head into Matt’s, now wet, chest.

Matt quietly laughs before squeezing you tighter. “That bad, huh?”

“You have no idea.” You reach for the shampoo to continue on with your shower routine but Matt beats you to it. He squeezes a healthy amount of shampoo into his hand and starts lathering your hair, giving you a mini scalp massage in the process. Both of you stay quiet, listening to the soft patter of the water hitting the tile floor, as you melt into Matt’s chest.

Matt takes his time to ensure he has a thorough and even application of shampoo in your hair. But, you quickly get impatient, deciding it’s your turn to dote on him. You also take your time to shampoo his hair, but that quickly turns into you playing with his hair.

Matt breaks the silence. “What are you doing,” he asks, but it’s a rhetorical question. You both know that he knows the answer to that question, but he asks anyway, wanting to hear your voice and to tease you a bit.

“Just trying out some new hairstyles,” you respond softly. At this point, it has become part of your routine for you to style his hair into, let’s say, unusual hairstyles. Today’s new style is one giant spike sticking straight up from the center of his head.

“What’s today's hairstyle?” he asks to humor you after a long day.

“One large spike pointing up in the center of your head,” you state in a matter of fact way, continuing to style his hair.

Matt tries to keep his voice somewhat serious as he responds, “Well, how do I look?” Unsurprisingly, he fails. His tone is probably the furthest thing from serious.

You, however, are able to maintain your composure despite how ridiculous Matt looks. “More handsome than before.”

Matt laughs, “Is that so?”

“Mhm.” You continue to perfect the spike until you step back while trying to think of ways to improve his new hairstyle. Matt’s expression becomes more and more confused during the few minutes you spend studying him in utter silence until you finally figure out how to make his hairstyle even better.

“Do you know what’s better than one spike?” You ask, lowering your voice to a more serious tone.

“No…?” Matt furrows his brows even more, confusion evident in his voice. Honestly, it’s adorable how confused he looks. His eyes shift around while he tilts his head, indicating that he is searching for clues as to why you’re serious all of a sudden. Honestly, it’s too cute, you know, when he tilts his head to listen carefully. He looks like a puppy that just heard the word “treat,” or “outside.” You doubt that he realizes that he does it too, he’s probably too focused on whatever he is listening to to notice.

“TWO spikes!!!” you exclaim, while trying to keep your serious tone but failing miserably.

Matt lets out a loud laugh as he is surprised by your response. But, knowing your humor, he probably should have seen it coming. “You’re so stupid,” Matt states lightheartedly, and then he pulls you towards his chest once again, still chuckling from your joke.

You pull away from his chest slightly to admire your work. “You should wear your hair like this all the time. It fits you so well.”

“Hmm does it?” Matt says, leaning forward for a kiss.

“Mhm. It really does. Wait, wait wait, it looks like horns!! Matt, it's perfect, seriously. You know, because you’re the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen and all of that, and Devils have the two little horns, and now you have horns so it works,” you ramble.

Matt gives you a wide smile that warms every fiber of your being. “That is true,” he sneaks his arms around your torso before continuing, “but then everyone would know my secret. If I walk around with horns all the time then eventually someone is bound to put two and two together.”

You raise an eyebrow at Matt, “Really? People are going to look at you and see the two spikes on your head and then go, ‘Ah yes it all makes sense now. The blind lawyer from two blocks down the street must be the one who is doing parkour on the rooftops at night. I wouldn’t have known before, but now that he has two tufts of hair sticking up from his head, I see the connection.’”

You can feel Matt’s chest shake as he lets out a deep laugh.“Well, they wouldn’t realize right away but eventually they would figure it out,” Matt defends as he buries his head into your neck.

“I think you could write it off as a new stylistic choice. You pull it off so well that no one would be the wiser. Only you and I would know the true meaning.”

“You can try to convince me all you want, but I will not be showing up to my next trial with horns.”

You pause and consider your options. “You leave me no choice, Matthew. I will have to take matters into my own hands and style your hair while you are sleeping,” you orate. “Mark my words, Murdock, the horns WILL make an appearance.”

“Whatever you say,” he concedes, words muffled as he presses a kiss to your soaking wet hair. Matt pulls you impossibly closer and you two sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, soaking in each other’s company.

Matt is the first to break the silence. “I love you,” he mumbled out against your neck.

“I love you too, Matthew.”

***

A few days later, a jar of hair gel mysteriously appears next to Matt’s comb. How peculiar…