#why are you working on live shit that often. why are electricians like this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

atlafan · 4 years ago

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It’s Electric - One Shot

a/n: I have no idea what this is or why I thought of it, but enjoy CEO!Harry with a blue collar!Y/N

Warnings: Smut (slow burn, I’m so sorry.) Not proofread, sorry!

Words: 15.2K

Being a female, blue collar worker was interesting to say the least. Most of the guys you worked with were either fresh out of college and starting their apprenticeship, or they were in their mid-forties, married with kids. You did the college thing, and got a degree in mathematics, but you didn’t want to be a teacher, and you sure as hell didn’t want to go into computer science. Your father was an electrician, and you asked him for help getting into his union. Electrical work involved a lot of math, especially trigonometry.

You were in your mid-twenties, able to live alone, and working a job that had good benefits. A lot of your friends didn’t quite understand it because you sometimes had to work traditional holidays, and you really couldn’t take time off. But the overtime pay was incredible, and when you were able to take a vacation, you had plenty of money for a good time. The one thing you were sort of missing was companionship.

Most of the guys on the job just assumed you were gay. It was a stupid stereotype. To be fair, you did have to wear a lot of flannel and you never wore makeup, and you constantly had hat hair from your hardhat. Again, a lot of stupid stereotypes.

Your union had gotten a contract together to do maintenance on a specific building in the city. It happened to also be where one of your best friends works so you’d be able to go on lunch together.

“Y/N!” She squeals. “Look at you, I’ve never seen you on the job before.” She tugs at your flannel. “I think you’re the reason mom jeans came back into style, you look so cute.” She was the best hype man there was.

“Thanks, Stacey.” You chuckle. “I don’t wanna get in trouble, I’ll see you at lunch, okay?”

You had never changed so many lightbulbs in one sitting. You hated maintenance work, but it beat being on unemployment. Next on the list was to run some tests on the electrical outlets. You make your way through specific people’s offices. You see your friend again, her desk was outside the CEO’s. She was his executive assistant.

“Let me just make sure he’s not on a call.” She says and you nod. She knocks on the door and opens it. “Mr. Styles? The maintenance crew is here to run inspections in your office.”

“Thanks, send ‘em in.”

She smiles and gestures for you to go in. She grabs you first, pulling you back.

“Remember, he’s British, and very hot.”

“Stacey…you have a boyfriend.”

“I’m well aware, I’m just preparing you.”

You roll your eyes and walk in.

“I’ll try to keep it brief.” You tell him and he nods. You click your pen and make a few notes on your clip board. You grab your outlet tester from your tool belt and get to work. He tries to continue typing at his desk, but curiosity gets the better of him.

“This might sound rude, but I was expecting some old guy to come here for this.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” You smirk at him and continue around the room. “This office is huge.”

“Well…it should be. Worked hard enough for it.”

“Right, you’re the CEO?”

“That’s right, darlin’.”

“Don’t call me that.” You make a disgusted face.

“Sorry, it’s just something I say.” He blushes.

“I need to get under there.”

“Excuse me?”

“Under your desk, I need to check the floor outlets.”

“Oh.” He stands up and moves his chair out of the way. He looks away as you get on your hands and knees, but he’s a man, so his eyes flicker down to your ass. He looks away immediately. You stand back up and make some notes.

“Alright, all set. Have a good one.”

“That’s it?”

“Pretty routine inspection. You all take good care of your offices. Nothing to worry about. We replaced all the lightbulbs that needed it, made them all LED.”

“Thanks.” He smiles.

You walk out and confirm with Stacey where you’ll be meeting her for lunch. Harry notices this. After you’re gone, Harry goes out to Stacey’s desk.

“Stacey, you’re friends with that woman?”

“Yeah! We go way back, Mr. Styles. She’s my best friend, actually. We’re having lunch in a bit, would you like to join us?”

“No.” He chuckles. “No, that’s alright. Um…so she’s an electrician?”

“Mhm, she’s really smart. She was top of her apprenticeship program a few years ago. She’s part of some union now that he dad was in. She likes it.”

“Ah…” He looks away for a moment. “You and I know each other pretty well at this point, right?”

“I’d say so. I mean, my boyfriend and I have been to your house for parties.” You giggle. “Why?”

“Is she single?”

‘Y/N? Yeah! Totally single.” She beams. “Not that she can’t get a date, she can. She’s just been busy lately.” She bites her bottom lip. “Do you…want me to give you her number?”

“Only if she wants to. See what she thought of me on your lunch, would you?”

“I’m on it.”

You and Stacey meet up at a Panera Bread not too far from the office building. You’d be doing inspections there all week, on every floor.

“Alright, I’m just going to come right out and say it. Harry wants your number!” She squeals.

You nearly choke on your salad.

“Who?!”

“Harry! Mr. Styles, my boss. The CEO of-“

“Okay, okay. What the fuck, I talked to him for like two seconds. He also called me darling, I didn’t like that.”

“He calls everyone darling, or love. He’s British, remember.”

“What does that have to…? Never mind.” You shake your head.

“He must think you’re cute. He hasn’t dated in a while, as far as I know. He’s super sweet, Y/N. Can I give him your number, please? He could really sweep you off your feet.”

“I’m not looking to be swept, I’m looking for a partner, someone to spend time with. Not someone who flashes cash around.”

“You’re making excuses.”

“Fine.” You shrug. “Give him my number.”

Stacey can’t wait to get back up to her office to give Harry your number. She knocks on his door and enters. He’s just finishing his lunch.

“Here.” She slaps a piece of paper on his desk. “That’s her number. I’ll warn you, she’s stubborn, so…play it cool.”

“Don’t I always?”

“I said cool, not suave. She hates that shit.”

“When should I call? I don’t wanna seem too eager…”

“She might think you’re playing around if you don’t call her tonight. Call her after work.”

You were hanging out on your couch, fresh out of the shower in a tank top and shorts, digging into a pint of ice cream. Your phone goes off, and you see it’s not anyone you know. You swipe to answer and stick your phone between your cheek and shoulder.

“Hello?”

“Hi, uh, is this Y/N?”

“This is she.”

“It’s Harry.”

“Who? Oh! Mr. Styles from the office building.”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “That’s me.”

“Stacey gave you my number?”

“She did. I hope it’s alright that I asked her for it.”

“Hey, however your relationship works is none of my business.” You take a bite of your ice cream. “So, why’d you want my number anyways?”

“So I could ask you out.”

For the second time today you choke on your food.

“Excuse me, one second.”

He hears you coughing and he tries not to laugh. You get a glass of water, and sit back down.

“Sorry about that.”

“No worries.”

“Why do you want to ask me out?”

“I, well, to be blunt I’m attracted to you.”

“Why?” You scoff. “Got a thing for girls in loose jeans?”

“They weren’t that loose.”

“What?”

“Nothing, listen, I think you’re pretty and I just thought-“

“Pretty? Wow.” You scoff.

“You’re really going to make me work for this, aren’t you?” He sighs.

“Hard work doesn’t seem foreign to you. It’s how you got that nice office of yours isn’t it?”

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Would you like to go out for dinner with me some time?”

“I’m free Saturday if you are.”

“I’m free.”

“Pick me up at seven, I’ll text you my address when the time comes.” You hang up before he has a second to say anything else.

You text Stacey to let her know you’d be going out with Harry on Saturday. You were actually sort of excited.

On Saturday, you go to your hairdresser for a blow out, and to have your nails done. It was a very nice treat. You get your make up on and pick out one of the dresses you never get to wear. It was black and simple, but you were exited to wear it. You get a call from Harry right at seven.

“Hello?”

“Just pulled up, I’m downstairs.”

“Be down in a second.” You grab your purse and head down.

Harry had a suit on and was standing outside a black car. His jaw nearly drops when he sees you. All he had to go on was that day in his office. You looked like a completely different person.

“You look…lovely.”

“Thanks.” You smile. “I don’t get to dress up very often.” You blush slightly.

He opens the back door of the car for you and you raise an eyebrow.

“I have a driver.”

“Oh…fancy.”

You slide into the car, and Harry comes around on the other side. He taps on the partition, and the car moves.

“I hope you like Asian food.”

“Love it.” You say. “Oh! Are we going to that hibachi place?”

“No, but it’ll sort of be like that.”

“Do you always use a driver?”

“For city stuff, yeah. When I’m out at the beach or upstate I drive myself. Sometimes I get my picture taken when I’m out, learned a long time ago it’s best to just have a driver.”

“Like…paparazzi?”

“Yeah…sometimes. Not that often anymore. There was this, uh, model that I dated a few years ago-“

“Tell me again, why were you so attracted to me?”

“You caught my attention. Not a lot of people do.”

Your cheeks grow slightly red. You feel the car come to a full stop. The driver gets out and opens the door for you. Harry slides out after you. You watch as he tells the driver how long you’ll roughly be. As you walk into the restaurant, the hostess greets Harry almost immediately. You follow her past the main dining area, and are brought into a private dining room. There was a table for two set up already. You give him a confused look.

“I like my privacy.” He pulls your chair out for your and you sit down.

“Is there any particular reason we’re sitting next to each other.”

“The chef is going to make our food for us in a few minutes. Told you it was sort of like hibachi.” He grabs the bottle of wine on the table and opens it. “Would you like some? It’s plum wine, it’s delicious.”

“Um…sure.” He pours you some and you take a small sip. “Hm, different.”

“So, how does one become an electrician?”

“How does one become a CEO?” You smirk. “Lots of hard work, school, and luck.”

Before Harry can speak again the chef walks in, and a few other follow him in with a cart. There was a flat top where he’d be able to make whatever you wanted. One of the waiters brings over a tray of sushi to start with. You grab your chopsticks and take a piece.

“Oh, that’s good. I love sashimi.” You say.

“Good evening, folks.” The chef smiles. “Tonight I’ll be preparing a delicious steak, kale salad, and for dessert fried banana ice cream.”

“That all work for you? I sorta had to tell them ahead of time.”

“Sounds amazing.”

You watch as the chef prepares the steak and the kale. It smelled delicious already, and it was cool to watch as it was done. You and Harry continue to enjoy the sushi in the meantime.

“Are you going to answer my question?”

“About what?”

“Becoming an electrician.”

“Oh…well, my dad was one, and he was in a union. I have a B.S. in Mathematics, but I didn’t really know what I wanted to do with it, so I asked my dad for some help getting into the union, and the rest was history. I get to use my degree every day. Not a lot of people can say that.” You smile and take a sip of the wine. “Do you always do this?”

“Do what?”

“Schmooze on a first date.”

“I’m not schmoozing.” He gasps.

“I’m just saying…this is, like, really fancy. You could have taken me to a burger joint, I’m not picky. I just don’t want you thinking you to need to flash your cash around. I get it, you’re reach and do well for yourself, you know? I wanna know what’s underneath all that.”

Two plates are put in front of you.

“Thank you.” Harry says to the chef and everyone else leaves the room. “I wasn’t trying to flash my cash.” He cuts his steak and takes a bite. “I just wanted to show you a good time.”

“By booking a private room at a really nice restaurant?” You smirk and take a bite of your steak. “Although, this food is delicious.” You use your napkin to pat the corners of your mouth gently. “How’d you get into the business that you’re in?”

“Well, I always wanted to be in sales, do a little bit of traveling, that kind of stuff. When I was in uni, the idea of property management sort of intrigued me, so I looked a little more into that. I started off in the mail room while I was getting my MBA, and then just sort of worked my way up. I bet my company has provided a lot of work to your union, other than just maintenance.”

“It definitely does, I recognized the name. You guys have put up buildings all over the place. You’re kind of like Richard Gere’s character in Pretty Woman.”

“I suppose I am! I love that movie.” He clears his throat. “So, you didn’t want to become an engineer or anything?”

“Nope, I like working with my hands.” You shrug and take a sip of your wine.

“Is it hard being in a male dominated profession?”

“Isn’t it pretty male dominated up in your office?” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Most of the women up there were either assistants or other low ranking positions.”

“Are you saying your friend works a low ranking position as my executive assistant?”

“Stacey likes what she does, she feels fulfilled and needed, at least that’s what she tells me. I’m just saying, anywhere I would have gone, it would probably look the same. Besides, I’m not the only woman on the job, I’m just one of few, and I’m one of the younger ones. The guys are all nice enough.”

A few moments later a waiter comes in to clear the plates and someone else brings out the fried ice cream.

“I’ve never had this before.” You smile. “I’m excited to try it.”

“Fried ice cream is delicious, especially after eating a steak with so many spices in it.”

You both dig in. You lick your lips after taking a bite.

“Mm, that is so good.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

Harry squared up the bill, and out the two of you went. You thanked him over and over for paying. He wanted to ask if you felt like grabbing another drink anywhere, but he wasn’t so sure if you’d be into it. Maybe that could be saved for a second date. His driver brings you home and Harry gets out to walk you up the steps of your building.

“I had a great time.” He blushes. “I’m glad we could do this.” All you do is smile and nod. “Um, well, so I have your number, I’ll give you another call sometime?”

“Okay.” You get your keys out of your purse. “Thanks again for dinner.”

You key into your building and he watches you disappear inside. He was stunned. Not even a goodnight kiss, hell, even a hug would have sufficed. Usually when Harry took a woman out on a date at the very least he got a kiss on the cheek, if not that most of the time he would get invited up. Did he do something wrong? Were you not as attracted to him as he was to you?

“Tell me everything! I wanna know what to expect tomorrow morning and if I need to add a caramel swirl to his coffee.” Stacey giggles over the phone with you the next morning.

“It was…okay.”

“Just okay?! Didn’t he take you to that nice Japanese place?”

“Yeah, the food was excellent, but the atmosphere was weird.”

“What do you mean?”

“He had us seated in a private room and we basically had this personal chef. It was awkward when things got a little quiet. There was a little music in the background, but I would have felt more at ease in the main dining area.”

“He likes his privacy.”

“So he said. Apparently sometimes paparazzi follow him?”

“Yeah, about a year ago he was dating this Italian model. He started getting photographed. They followed him around a bit after they broke up, but we haven’t seen too many in a while.”

“I don’t know why he’d want to go from a model to me…”

“Oh, stop it. You’re gorgeous! So…are you saying you won’t see him again?”

“I don’t see why I would. I didn’t feel any sparks flying between us. He seems sort of hollow, Stace.”

“No! He’s so sweet! He can just be sort of…I don’t know…awkward. He’s amazing when he’s making a deal, but outside of work I know he can be a little social awkward.”

“I don’t think I wanna be with someone as rich as he is.”

“He was just trying to impress you, I’m sure. You didn’t have any fun?”

“I had a little…but not enough to go on a second date.”

Stacey swallowed hard. Harry was a very sweet man, and extremely respectful…but he wanted something he worked for it. There was no way he was going to let this, or you, go.

“Morning, Stacey.” He says to her with a smile. He grabs his coffee from her desk.

“Morning, Mr. Styles.”

“Have a good weekend?” He asks as she follows her in. He looks at the mail she’s already put on his desk.

“Yeah, Dan and I visited his parents out at the lake. It was nice.”

“Good for you guys.” He looks at her and smiles. “Been together a few years now, right? When’s he popping the question?”

“Oh, Harry.” She swats a hand at him as he chuckles. “Soon. Anyways, you’ve got a meeting at nine, and then this afternoon you’re to go to that new property we just bought. The construction workers will be there, it’ll be good for you to meet the crew.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. I’m dying to see the place again. Haven’t been since we saw it last.” He sits down at his desk. “Hate wearing those hard hats though, they always mess up my hair.” He smirks.

“I don’t think anything could mess up your hair.” She laughs and turns to leave to go back to his desk.

“Wait, uh, did you happen to speak with Y/N at all?”

“Oh! Um, was this past Saturday the big date?”

“You know it was, quit playing.”

“We spoke, yeah.”

“Did she mention me at all? Trying to gauge when I should call her next.”

“Oh, so you wanna see her again?”

“I do.” He smiles. “So, she say anything?”

“Yeah…um, she said she had a nice time.”

“Was that it?”

“Pretty much, but to be fair, we talked more about my weekend. Barely let her get a word in, you know how I can be sometimes.”

Stacey walks awkwardly back to her desk. She prayed that if he did reach out to you, you’d at least let him down easy.

Harry leaves around one in the afternoon to head to the property. He and the COO go together in a car. When they get there they both shake the foreman’s hand and walk around the property.

“The electrician’s showed up this morning. They’ve certainly got their work cut out for them.” The foreman says. “Great workers though, union contract just how you like.”

Harry nods and continues walking. He notices the electricians on their afternoon coffee break.

“Check out the suits.” Frank says to you. You smirk and look over your shoulder. You immediately look back at Frank. “What?”

“I know that guy…the one in the blue suit.”

“No shit, how?”

“He, uh, took me to dinner on Saturday.”

“What?!”

“My friend is his executive assistant, she gave him my number after we met last week doing those inspections.”

“No offense, but I thought you were gay.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“Frank.” You pinch the bridge of your nose.

“So…some big wig took you out? How was it?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it, and I certainly don’t want to-“

“Y/N?”

You turn around slowly to look at him.

“Hi Harry.”

“Y/N, you should address him as Mr. Styles.” Your foreman says.

“That’s quite alright, we know each other.” He smiles at you.

“We sure do, excuse me.” You grab your hard hat, stick it on, and head inside with Frank.

“How do you know her?” The foreman asks Harry.

“She’s good friends with my assistant.”

The foreman brings Harry and the COO inside to show them the bit of progress that’s been made on the interior thus far. Harry sees you up on a ladder helping a wire get fed through a hole.

“Got it!” You yell up, and secure it.

Harry and the COO stick around for quite some time making sure everything was to their liking. He’s there until the end of the work day and sees you walking with your toolbox to your car. You wave goodbye to Frank as you get everything in your trunk. It was a nice size SUV. He watches as you unclip your tool belt and slightly rub at your hip bones. He decides to come over to you.

“Hi again.” He smiles and you nearly jump.

“Jesus, you’re just everywhere.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, darling.” You scrunch your face at the word. “Sorry.”

“You apologize a lot.” You shake your head and throw your hard hat into your trunk. You take your hair out of its bun, and shake your hair out. “Can I help you with something?” You close your trunk and lean against your car, crossing your arms.

“I just, um, well, I was wondering when I could see you again.”

“You’re seeing me now.”

He chuckles and shakes his head.

“I mean, when can I take you on another date?”

“Harry…” You look down, then back up to him. “I…”

“I should have texted you afterwards, right?” He sucks his teeth. “I didn’t wanna seem too eager.”

“You really had that good a time with me that you wanna take me out again?”

“Well, yeah. Didn’t you?”

You had two choices. You could either crush the man in front of you and walk away, or you could cut the guy a break and give it another go. Would it be so bad to let him take you out again? Maybe this time you could call the shots.

“I did.” You swallow. “I’d like to go out again.”

“Great!” He beams at you. “I was thinking we could-“

“I’d like to plan it.”

“Oh…well, alright. What did you have in mind?”

“You’ll find out Friday night. You’re free then?”

“I can definitely make myself available.”

“Perfect.” You turn on your heel and get into your car. Once again you leave him standing there, stunned.

“You’re giving it another shot?!” Stacey practically screams through the phone.

“Mhm.”

“What made you decide?”

“Well, he was just standing right in front of me. I felt sort of bad. I figured maybe I was being too harsh before. It can’t hurt to go out again.”

“Where are you going to take him?”

“I haven’t decided yet. I was thinking of going to that bar I’ve been to with Frank. I’ve taken you a couple of times.”

“Oh! That place with the darts and the live music?”

“Yeah! I think he needs a night to be a little less fancy, don’t you?”

“Definitely! He won’t know what hit him.”

Harry was on cloud nine all week. He couldn’t wait to see you again. He even had flowers sent to your job site. You were thoroughly embarrassed. The guys all gave you shit for it. He was a little surprised when you didn’t even text him to thank him for them, but he just brushed it off and kept his cool. When you did finally text him Thursday evening, he nearly squealed.

You: what’s your address? I’ll be picking you up around eight tomorrow

Harry: late start to the evening, where we headed?

You: that’s for me to know ;)

His stomach filled with butterflies all because you sent a winky face. He was having a few doubts that maybe you didn’t like him that much, but you were being playful with him now. This was good.

Your hair was down and wavy, you had a white tank top on with a dangly necklace, and some jeans. You drive to Harry’s building. It was much nicer than yours, naturally. You text him and let him know you’re on the street. He comes walking out moments later in a black silk shirt and a pair of yellow patterned dress pants. You squinted through the window and noticed they were sort of tight around his thighs. He waves at you and you wave back.

“This is fun already.” He says as he buckles up. He looks down at you. “I’m overdressed.”

“Not at all. You’re dressed like you, that’s good. This is how I like to dress.”

“You look cute.” He says.

“Thanks.” You start to drive off towards the bar.

“So, now will you tell me where we’re going?”

“To a bar, hope you’re thirsty.” You smirk at him.

As you continue to drive Harry takes note of the music on the radio and even the way you drive the car. You were only using one hand, on the bottom of the wheel. You were so easy going.

“This is a nice car.”

“Thanks, bought it last year. I used have a dinged up old truck.”

“Do you miss having a truck?”

“Not really.” You shrug. “I wanted something more like this. When you have a truck everyone always wants your help with stuff. It’s bad enough that I’m the handy friend.” You chuckle. “I’m always being asked to help repair stuff or whatever. I don’t mind, but sometimes it’s a lot.”

You get over to the bar and find a place to park.

“Can’t remember the last time I was on this side of town.” He comments as you walk inside.

There were a lot people around, and the bar itself was packed. There was some sports game playing, but it wouldn’t be on long once the live band would start. There were people playing darts and munching on popcorn.

“Go snag a booth, I’ll get us some beers.”

“Oh, uh…”

“What’s a matter?”

“I don’t really like beer.” He takes his wallet out. “I can grab the drinks, tell me what you want.”

“I want you to go grab us a booth. I’ll get you something other than beer.”

You turn and go up to the bar. You greet the bartender who knows you pretty well. You decide that if Harry didn’t want beer, then you wouldn’t get one either.

“Two long islands.” You grin.

You get your drinks and find Harry at a booth. He stuck out like a sore thumb, he wasn’t hard to find. You place the glasses on the table.

“I’ll grab us some popcorn. We’ll grab some real food later.”

You go up to the popcorn machine and grab a bowl to fill up. You say hello to some people you recognize and head back to the booth.

“What made you decide on a long island ice tea?” He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Thought it would be fun to just get drunk.” You smile. “What sort of mixed drinks do you usually get?”

“I don’t. I usually just get a scotch or something.”

“Ew.” You grimace and then take a sip of your drink. “This is much more fun.”

“You could have gotten a beer still.”

You toss a piece of popcorn into your mouth and take another sip. Harry takes a sip as well and coughs when he’s done.

“Bit heavy handed.”

“I can get you something else…”

“No, it’s fine.” He smiles. “Do you come here a lot?”

“Sometimes. Some buddies from work brought me here, and I liked it. They have free darts, and live music. The band should be starting soon.”

You were two drinks in, and you both were giggling messes. The band was loud, but fun. You had gotten into a little game of getting popcorn into the other’s mouth. Maybe Harry could let his hair down a little and act like a normal person.

By the time you each were on your third drink, you definitely knew you were drunk, and so did Harry. He was having a great time.

“I’m hungry, are you hungry?!” You had yell over the music.

“Starved!”

“Come on!”

You grab his wrist as you walk out of the place. It’s a bit chilly outside, and without thinking, Harry wraps his arm around your shoulders as you walk. You wrap yours around his waist, and he feels butterflies again. You lead him to a McDonald’s and walk in.

“Two medium big mac meals, please.” You slur as you walk up to the counter.

“I’m paying.” Harry insists.

“Nope, I got it.” You slap your credit card down. “Go fill up our drinks, I’ll wait for the food.”

Harry shuffles over to the drink station and fills the paper cups up with coke. You come over to the table he found and you both dive into the greasy food.

“Mm, I can’t remember the last time I had McDonald’s.” He grunts as he eats the food.

“Right?! It’s like, the perfect drunk food.” You suck down the coke. “I would have gotten us some flurries but the machine’s broken.”

“I have ice cream back at my place…got stuff to make sundaes actually.”

“Are you kidding?!”

“Nope, always keep that stuff around. Never know when you’re gonna need some hot fudge.”

“Well, I know where we’re going next.”

“What about your car? We’re both way too fucked up to drive.”

“It’s called uber.”

“Nonsense, I’ll call my-“

“He’ll be here in two minutes, finish up your fries.” You say, looking at your phone.

“You’re very impulsive.” He chuckles and throws some fries into his mouth.

“Live a little.” You yank him out of the booth and go outside.

You both crawl into the uber, and giggle during the ride. Harry hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. When you get to Harry’s building, he says hello to the doorman, and you just smile and wave. He keeps his hand on the small of your back as he leads you into the elevator. It was a beautiful lobby. You watch, through your foggy eyes, as Harry presses the button for the top floor where all of the pent house suites were. He leads you down a hall and keys into his place. You jaw nearly hits the floor.

“I didn’t know they made apartments this big. It’s like…a house in here!” You walk around. “Is this a staircase?!”

“Yeah, it’s two stories. There’s four bedrooms total. My main guest room is down here, and then upstairs are the rest. Got an office down that way, nice big balcony.”

“What’s a single guy need all this space for?”

“Got family and friends that come to visit. I end up hosting functions quite a bit too. Catered events, and all that.” He grabs your hand to lead you into his massive kitchen. “Can I get you some water?”

“Nope, got any alcohol?”

“You want more to drink?!”

“We’re going to have ice cream right? How about some kalua?”

“You know, I do have some. I could put it into some shot glasses.”

“Works for me.” You smile.

Harry get everything out for the sundaes. His kitchen looked like it belonged in a restaurant, but it made sense since he did say he had catered events. If he had cooks come they’d need state of the art equipment. He runs the scoop under some warm water, rolls up one of his sleeves and scoops the ice cream into two bowls. Your eyes widen as you see the veins in his hand and forearm peek out. He adds the warmed up fudge, sprinkles some nuts, and then adds some whip cream.

“Why do you have all this stuff?” You ask as you make up the shots.

“We had an ice cream social here a week or so ago. I like having themed parties.” He bites into his ice cream and moans. “I hate throwing out leftovers.”

“This fudge is really rich.” You lick your lips after taking a bite.

“Shoulda made milk shakes with this.” He takes his shot of kalua and so do you.

“Next time.” You spoon my ice cream into your mouth.

“Next time, eh?”

“Sure.” You smile. “I’m having a good time.”

“Better than last time?”

“Harry.” You put your bowl down and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll admit, I was pretty skeptical, but when you let your hair down, you’re a lot of fun.”

“So…you didn’t have any fun last time?”

“It’s not that I didn’t.” You say, shoveling more ice cream into your mouth. “But I feel like I got to know you better tonight.” You hop up on his counter and sit there comfortably as you finish your ice cream. A little bit of hot fudge lingers on the corner of your mouth.

“You have a little, uh…” He taps the corner of his mouth to show you. He moves to stand between your legs and you look up at him.

“Did I get it?”

“Not exactly.” He cups your cheeks and leans in. You can feel his breath on you. He runs his thumb over the spot. “Got it.” He sucks his thumb into his mouth and smirks at you.

Just as he’s about to turn to grab the bowls you grab at the collar of his shirt, and pull him to you, crashing your lips to his. He sinks into it, only for a second before backing away. He presses his forehead to yours.

“What’s wrong?” You breathe.

“I don’t want this to happen like this.”

“Like what?”

He steps away and looks at you.

“We’re both pretty out of sorts, Y/N.”

“It was just a kiss…”

“But it could lead to more, and I don’t feel comfortable with that.”

“Are you really going to tell me you’ve never hooked up drunk?”

“I have.”

“So…I’m sorry, I’m just really confused.” You hop down so you can stand on your feet.

“Y/N.” He cups your cheeks so you’ll look at him. “I want to be completely sober so I can fully enjoy you.”

“You’re…such a weirdo, Harry. Who says shit like that?” You step away from him.

“You know, most people find me charming.”

“Well, then I guess I’m not most people.” You roll your eyes at yourself. “Ugh, I didn’t mean for that to sound like I’m not like other girls, that would be a weird thing to say. I feel like you say things you think I’d wanna hear.”

“No, I really feel that way. I don’t want…look, if we decided to do it, I’d wanna remember it, that’s all I was trying to say.”

“So just say it like that!” You start laughing. “That I can understand.”

“I don’t know what to say around you. It’s like everything I do is wrong.”

“Not true.” You grab the whip cream can and spray some into your mouth. “You make a mean sundae.”

“Don’t hog it.” He opens his mouth and you spray some whip cream into his mouth. You both giggle.

“So…you don’t even want to keep kissing?”

“I do, but I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“What do you wanna do instead? My car’s all the way back at the bar, I’m way too fucked to drive…”

“You could stay here if you want. I could give you some pj’s and-“

“No, I’d rather sleep in my own bed.”

“I could call my driver.”

“This late?!”

“He’s on call.” Harry takes out his phone and sends a text. “It’s his job.”

“You’ll come for the ride?”

“Of course!” He smiles. “I have a question for you…”

“Alright.”

“Did you get the flowers I sent you earlier this week?”

“I did.” You move some hair from your face. “I’m sure you meant well, but you shouldn’t do that while I’m working again.”

“Why?” He frowns.

“It was embarrassing. Some of the guys gave me shit for it. Just…if you do it again, I mean, I like getting flowers, just have them sent to my apartment. I don’t need gifts at work. I didn’t even know where to put them.”

“So, we’re definitely seeing each other again?”

“I’d like to.” You smile.

“Great.” He smiles back. “Sorry…I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Do you want me to have someone fired? Cause I can do that.”

“No.” You laugh. “But thanks.”

Harry leads you down to the car and you both get in the back seat. You sit really close to him. You were incredibly riled up and horny. It was the alcohol, but you were sort of disappointed that you wouldn’t be getting laid, and it sort of turned you on that Harry was being such a gentleman. You look up at him.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” He looks down at you.

You move his arm to put it around you, and you look up at him with big eyes. He sighs and leans in to kiss you. His lips were so soft, and he still tasted like the hot fudge. Your hands slide up to his hair and tug on his curls. You just wanted his tongue in your mouth, but he was being so timid. His other hand goes down to your thigh, and he squeezes it, his thumb digging in to your inner thigh. You whimper slightly and then he lets go of you. The car comes to a stop, and your door is opened by the driver. Harry gets out to walk you up to your door.

“I’m going to be out of town for the next ten days.” He says, tucking some hair behind your ear. “But when I get back, I’d love to see you again.”

“Me too.”

“Good.” He gives you one last kiss before getting back into the car. He makes sure you’re inside the building before he lets the driver go. He presses the button for the partition to go down. “Charlie, I had my doubts, I really did, but she likes me, mate.”

“That’s great, sir. I’m glad she agreed to see you again.”

“Me too. She’s so…different! She’s sort of blunt too. I like that. I feel like women always just like me for my money, but she could care less! This could really be something, I can feel it.”

You told Stacey all about your date with Harry, and how good of a kisser he was. You weren’t sure how’d you last the next ten days without his lips on yours again, but you’d find ways to manage. Work was a great distraction. However, your friends continued to shit on you. One of them snuck a magazine that had Harry on the cover into your toolbox.

“Very funny.” You roll your eyes as they laugh. “What’s so funny that he likes me?”

“It’s not funny, think they’re just jealous.” Frank smirks and looks at the magazine. “It’s just odd that you’re into him.”

“He’s not exactly the type of guy I’d usually be interested in, but he means well. He’s sweet…in his own weird way. He’s quirky. I took him to that bar we’ve been to on Friday, we had a great time.”

“Look at you, trying something for a second time. When do you see him next?”

“I don’t know. He’s out of town for a couple of weeks.”

“Doing what?”

“How the fuck should I know? I didn’t ask.”

“Why not?”

“It’s none of my business. It’s not like he’s my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, but he is the guy you’re seeing.”

“I’ve been on two dates with him, nothing’s set in stone.” Your morning coffee break ends you sigh. “Great, time to go into this stupid basement.” You put your hardhat on and a mask and head in with Frank.

On Thursday evening, you were just hanging out, watching TV after a long day of work. Your phone goes off and you see it’s a call from Harry.

“Hello?”

“Hi, beautiful!”

You’re sitting there with your hair up in a messy bun, pimple patches on your blemishes, and a raggedy t-shirt with stains all over it. You roll your eyes.

“What’s up?”

“Well, I finally got a free moment, and I wanted to call you. Are you busy? Should be about eight o’clock, right?”

“Yeah it is…where are you?”

“I’m in London.”

You think for a moment and you gasp.

“Harry, it’s like two in the morning over there!”

“Like I said, I finally got a free moment. I’m just getting into my flat, getting cozy.”

“What did you go to London for?”

“Business of course…and to see some family. Killing two birds with one stone.”

“Do you travel a lot?”

“Sometimes. There were some buildings I wanted to look at out here.”

“How come you didn’t bring Stacey?”

“She doesn’t always need to travel with me. We’ve connected, don’t worry. I’m not one of those helpless idiots who can’t survive without their assistant. Besides, need her there to hold down the fort.” You hear some shuffling and then the creaking of a bed, and a big sigh from him.

“So…what kept you out so late?”

“Business.”

“What Business could you possibly need to conduct at two in the morning?”

“Things operate differently over here. People like to go out late. I actually left early because I was tired.”

“That’s wild.”

“Very.” He chuckles. “What are you up to?”

“I was just watching some TV before I hit the sack.”

“Anything good on?”

“Not really.” You laugh and turn the TV off. “Kinda like hearing your voice.” You slap your forehead because you literally don’t know what possessed you to say that.

“Like hearing yours too. Sorry I haven’t been able to text much.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not, really. I wouldn’t want you to think I wasn’t interested or something.”

“I didn’t.”

“Good, because I’m still really interested.”

“When do you come back?”

“Monday evening, then it’s back to the office Tuesday.”

“You never stop, do you…”

“It’s hard not to, but I like what I do.”

“I would hope so.”

“How’s your week been?”

“You should get some sleep.”

“Can’t, too awake now. Tell me how your week was, how’s the building coming along?”

“I’ve been in a dimly lit crawl space in the basement feeding wires all week. Tomorrow’s the last day of doing that. Then next week my group of people will move up to the regular basement, and then after that we’ll move on to the lobby. Other people are working on the outside as well, and then once all that’s done we’ll be able to move on to the individual offices inside.”

“Wow, that’s a lot.”

“Mhm, but it’s honest work. I can take a step back at the end of the day and see what I’ve done. I like that.”

“You’re a visual person, then.”

“I am.”

“So am I.”

“Nice to know we have one thing in common.”

“We have other things in common.” He sounds offended.

“Like what?” You giggle and sit with your knees hugged to your chest. His voice over the phone was oddly soothing to you.

“Well…I’d say we both enjoy a good joke. We both like food, although, I have to say, my stomach was pretty angry with me after I had that bic mac.”

You burst out laughing.

“So was mine. It’s always good going in.”

“Mhm, and we like each other.”

“Oh, we do?” You ask sarcastically. “Teasing. I like you.”

“You didn’t at first though.”

“You didn’t make a great impression by calling me darling in your office.”

“If I knew how derogatory it was going to come off, I never would have said it. It’s just…part of my vocabulary.”

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

“When I get back, I’d love to see you again. Maybe we could have lunch or something.”

“On my jobsite? I don’t think so.”

“We could go out for dinner, then? I mean, I’ll be coming by the site next week to check out the progress.”

“Please, don’t even acknowledge me if you see me. I want things to be professional.”

“Reputation to uphold?”

“Sort of. I have a couple good friends, but not all of the guys are so accepting of women on the job. I don’t want any of them thinking I’m getting special treatment or anything because I know you. Someone put a magazine that had you on the cover in my tool box as a prank.”

“I’m sorry…I don’t really know what the big deal is though.”

“It’s like I’m in elementary school and everyone found out about my cruck. Boys never really grow up, so I’ve come to find out.”

“Can’t say I can argue with that. We’re an immature lot.” He chuckles and then yawns.

“You should really go to sleep.”

“But I like talking to you.”

“You can call me this weekend.”

“Oh, that sounds nice.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight…sweet dreams, Y/N.”

You sigh as you hang up. Your stomach felt weird. Did you have butterflies? You never had butterflies. Harry was definitely growing on you.

Wednesday morning, Harry came to the jobsite to check things out. He stayed in the trailer with the foreman with quite some time before going inside the building. He didn’t see you, and he was sort of sad about it. He hears a whistling noise and sees a bunch of people filing out and taking their hard hats off.

“Morning coffee break.” The foreman explains. Harry nods and squints at everyone. His eyes widen when he spots you.

He watches as you grab your thermos and pour your coffee into the little cap that works as a cup. He desperately wants to go over and say hi, but he also wanted to respect what you asked of him.

“Hey, Y/N, isn’t that your boyfriend?” One of the guys says and makes kissy noises. “Go say hi, give him a big wet one for us. Show him some appreciation for giving the union so much work.”

“Very funny.” You roll your eyes. “He’s not my boyfriend. We’ve been out two times.”

“That guy’s dated models, what’s so great about you?”

“Bob.” Frank says, warningly. “Don’t be a prick.”

Harry watches as the group laughs, and Frank puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Everything alright over there?” He asks the foreman.

“Yeah, they’re just giving her a tough time. They seem to think you’re her boyfriend.”

“And what if I was? Is that supposed to be funny?”

“No, sir, of course not…it’s just…up until a couple weeks ago everyone thought she was gay, or at least, just not into dudes.”

“Why? Because she didn’t try to fuck one of the other guys? She’s a beautiful woman, and-“ Harry stops himself. He can feel his blood boiling. He wasn’t your boyfriend, and he knew that, but he still wanted to defend you.

“What’s it like fucking a dude with so much money? Surprised you haven’t quit yet to become his live in lady.”

“Bob, I’m about two seconds away from ripping your balls off.”

“Not a very nice thing to say.”

“You’re being a dick, Bob.” Frank says. “Why do you wanna know what it’s like to fuck Mr. Styles for? You like him too?” He smirks.

“Frank.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “What’s happening here, you’re going to turn this around to make some gay joke to defend me? Not cool. You all need to grow the fuck up.” You finish your coffee, put your hardhat back on and storm off.

Harry watches the scene and goes over to the group of men since you now left.

“Everything alright over here?” He asks them. The foreman was shaking behind him.

“Just fine, sir.” Bob says.

“Are we sure? Because that worker seemed a bit upset. I hope you’re all working as a team, I hate to see people not being team players. It makes getting a job done well very difficult.”

“The guys have been ragging on her because of you.” Frank says. “Apparently they think it’s funny that you’ve been out a couple of times.” He turns to all of them. “I think you all forget that she works with us and has fun just like the rest of us, but she’s still a woman. She’s allowed to go out on dates with people not like us. Just because she doesn’t want any of you doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve to find someone.”

Frank huffs and storms off himself. Harry was impressed by him.

“I don’t have much to add to that other than that her personal life is just that, personal. Please remember that, and keep things professional. Then, none of his will have a problem.” He says sternly and walks away. The foremen glares at all of them and follows Harry.

He just wanted to make sure you were okay. He saw you inside, back to work, as if nothing had happened. Frank was holding the latter you were on. He still wanted to respect what you had asked, so he turns and walks back out of the building.

Stacey had her phone out when Harry got back to the office. She was texting furiously with someone. Her eyebrows were furrowed and she had a frown on her face.

“Everything alright, love?” Harry asks, concerned.

“With me, yeah.” She looks up at him and smiles. “I’m proud of you.”

“For what?”

“For not stepping in to defend her. She’s good at taking care of herself.”

“So that’s who you’re texting?”

“Mhm. I’m gonna meet her after work for some drinks. When do you see her next?”

“Friday.”

“Good, that’ll be nice.”

“So I shouldn’t show up while you’re having drinks?”

“No! She needs girl time. You mean well, but keep doing what you’re doing. Don’t suffocate her.”

“It was so hard to not run over to her earlier. We chatted a bit over the phone while I was gone. It was so nice.” He sighs and leans against her desk.

“You’re a romantic, Harry, and I love that about you. But…Y/N…well, she prefers to save that for the movies.”

Harry’s eyes widen and he gasps.

“I just figured out what I’m gonna take her to do Friday!” He hugs Stacey quick. “Thanks, Stace!” He rushes into his office and closes the door.

By the time Friday rolled around, you were exhausted. You really didn’t want to do anything crazy, and Harry assured you that you’d just be hanging out at his place which put you at ease. His car comes for you around seven. You come out in a pair of jeans, a nice shirt, and your hair down. He gets out and practically runs over to you. He takes you in his arms and kisses you.

“Missed you.” He says against your lips before kissing you again.

“I guess I missed you too.” You smile. “Thanks for being so cool at the site the other day.”

“No worries, I just hope those guys have cooled it.”

“They have.”

“Good.” He smiles and leads you into the car.

“One of these days I’m going to see what you look like behind the wheel.”

“That just means you’ll have to come out to my beach house.”

“That doesn’t sound too terrible. It’s getting warmer out by the day.”

“I hope you’re hungry, I’ve got something good prepared.”

“Did you cook?”

“God, no. I’d burn the house down if I made something other than a frozen pizza.” He chuckles. “No, I had someone come and make everything I wanted.” You make a face at him. “Oh, stop it. You’ll be thankful once you see it, trust me.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Once you’re at Harry’s place, he leads you inside. You take note on how he always says hi to all of the workers. You liked that he was so kind to them. When he gets you inside your jaw drops. There was a popcorn machine full of popcorn, hot dogs on a rotisserie, and all of the fixings on a table next to it, a nacho station, and homemade candies and chocolates.

“So, this is, like, the concessions area, and then down the hall is my home theater. Thought I’d bring the movies to us. Do you like it?”

“This is so…extravagant.” You walk up to where all of the sweets are.

“I had my chef make up those chocolate covered cookie dough bites, I thought you might like them.”

“I love those…thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He kisses you cheek. “Well, let’s make up what we want and then we can go find our seats.” He chuckles at his own joke and it makes you giggle.

You each make up a tray of snacks, and head down the hall. You gasp when you see a movie poster on the wall outside of the door.

“Pretty Woman?”

“I remember you mentioning it on our first date. Would you like to watch it?”

“Sure!”

You walk inside the room. He wasn’t kidding, it really was a home theater. Three rows of luxurious recliner seats, a large screen and a projector in the back.

“Where would you like to sit?”

“Middle row?”

“Works for me.” He smiles and follows you up. He sets his food down on the chair next to him and takes his phone out. “There’s an app linked to the projector so I can just it play from here and even dim the lights.”

“Pretty cool.”

“Very cool. Makes things so much easier.”

The lights dim, and previews start playing.

“Previews from when the film first came out, makes it more immersive.”

“Nice touch.” You saw, biting into your hot dog. “Oh, wow. This is delicious.”

“All freshly made with a natural casing. Still not the best for you, but at least it’s made with good ingredients.”

You sip on your soda and toss some popcorn into your mouth as well. Once you both finish up some of the cookie dough bites, you set your trays aside, recline the chairs, and get comfortable. Harry lifts the armrest between you and puts his arm around you.

“This alright?”

“Mhm.” You cozy up to him and sigh as you watch the film.

Even though you thought he was flashing his cash again, you knew he wasn’t doing it for bad reasons. He wanted to give you a nice evening, and this was how he knew to do it. You appreciated him putting all this effort in just for you. It made you rethink your first date completely. He was just trying to show you a good time, and you felt bad for being sort of rude. You’re happy you gave him another chance.

You sling your arm over his lower stomach, and put one of your ankles over his. His cologne smelled so good, you just wanted to have him closer to you. Harry was swooning. He hadn’t felt this happy in so long. His hand strokes your arm and shoulder mindlessly as the movie goes on. You both laugh and giggle at the funnier parts. When it gets to the part of the film where Vivian goes down to where Edward is playing the piano, and she sits on top of it and they start having sex.

You bite your bottom lip and look up at Harry whose eyes are glues to the screen, but you could feel his heart beating rapidly. He notices you looking up at him and he looks down at you with a slight smile. You reach one of your hands up to the back of his neck to pull him down to you. His lips brush over yours, and then you both sink into it. You tug him by the collar of his shirt so he’s hovering over you on the large seats. You wrap your legs around his waist to have him as close as possible. You swipe your tongue along his bottom lip and he opens up for you. You both groan into the open mouthed kiss, happy to feel the other’s tongue.

He kisses down your jaw and makes his way to your neck. Your hips buck up towards his when he starts to suck on your skin. You crane your neck to give him more access, and you practically push his head further into you. You whimper and bite your bottom lip as your hips move up towards his again. He sits up and pulls you on top of him so you can straddle him. Your lips find his again as you roll your hips down on his growing bulge. You tug at his hair as you suck on his bottom lip. His hands were press on your back to keep you close.

“Y/N?” He breathes.

“Mm?” You mumble as you kiss on his neck.

“Do you wanna take a break so we can finish the movie?”

“What, why?” You pout with your now swollen lips.

“Well, it’s just, that scene where Jason Alexander tries to…um…you know, is coming up and I’d feel weird making out while that happens.”

“Oh.” You chuckle and move off of him. “Makes sense.” He puts his arm back around you as you both catch your breaths.

Eventually the movie ends and the lights come back on. You have to blink a few times to get used to it. You and Harry grab your trays and go out the kitchen to clean everything up.

“Did you enjoy that?” He asks as he loads up the dishwasher.

“Yeah! I mean, I love that movie, and it was cool to watch it privately like that.”

“That room used to be another bedroom, I had it renovated shortly after I moved in. I’m glad I did. It got difficult to go out once the paparazzi started following my every move. Plus, it’s fun for parties. My family loves it when they come to visit.” He dries his hands on a towel and tosses it on a counter.

“Do they still follow you around?”

“Not as much anymore, thank god. At least, not to see who I’m dating. Sometimes after I do an interview for a magazine they follow me to see if I’m going out to get drunk or something.” He scoffs and shakes his head.

“You end up on a lot of thirty under thirty type magazines.”

“Yeah…I’ve done those, made it onto Forbes too, that was pretty cool. Then in a couple of years when I do turn thirty, it’ll be forty under forty. It never ends.” He shakes his head.

“How’d you end up dating some Italian model?”

He steps closer to you and tucks some hair behind your ear.

“Is that something you really wanna talk about?” He asks, just above a whisper as he starts to kiss on your neck again.

“No.” You gasp as his hands squeeze your hips. “Can we go to your bedroom?” You hear him sigh against you and he leans back against the counter.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Not ready for that yet?”

“You make zero sense!”

It’s true. Harry wasn’t making much sense. He was used to moving too fast with women, and it always went wrong. He really liked you, and he didn’t want it blowing up in his face.

“It’s not that I don’t want to.” He squeezes your hand. “I just think we should go out on a few more dates before we get to know each other like that…don’t you?”

“No, I’d like you to take me to your room and fuck me.” You cross your arms.

“Y/N.” He chuckles. “I promise, it’ll be worth the wait.”

You knew he was right. You felt his fully erect dick when you were grinding on him earlier.

“I just want us on the same page, make sure we both want the same things before diving into all that.”

“God, of course you’re, like, a good person.” You roll your eyes. “Fine, let’s go out a few more times.”

“Great.” He smiles. “I want you to know, too, I’m not seeing anyone else.”

“Neither am I.”

“And you won’t start, right?”

“Why would I?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs.

“Harry, I barely have the time to juggle one guy, I don’t think I’d have the energy to entertain more than one.” You laugh.

“Alright.” He blushes slightly. You step closer to him and wrap your arms around his neck.

“I’m surprised there isn’t a line of women knocking at your door.”

“Oh, there is, I just ignore it.” He smirks and you roll your eyes. “Kidding.”

“Mhm.”

You both smile and stand there kissing for a little while. Harry makes sure you get home, giving you a ride in his car. Just like last time, you spent most of the ride making out in the back seat. You really didn’t want to leave, but it was late and you needed to sleep. You say goodnight to each other, and he makes sure you’re inside before letting Charlie drive away.

“Mr. Styles, don’t forget you’ve got that gala this weekend.” Stacey says to him Monday morning.

“Shit, I’ve completely forgot about that.” He sighs. “Do I have to go?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I saw the guest list and…Carina’s going to be there.”

“Of course she is!” He groans and slumps into his chair. “Fuck, and I don’t have a date.”

“You could ask Y/N.”

“Do you think that’s something she’d wanna go to? She’d need a ball gown and-“

“She’s an electrician, but she’s still a woman. She has a lot of pretty clothes. I actually borrow a lot from her when I have events to go to.”

“She’s having me over for dinner tonight…I suppose I could ask her then.”

“Wait, she’s having you over?!”

“Yeah…” He raises an eyebrow of confusion at her.

“Wow.” She smirks. “She must really like you. She never invites guys over.” She winks at him and leaves his office.

After work, Harry has Charlie drive him over to your place. He rings your buzzer and you let him up. Your door was open a crack for him already, so he goes tight in, loosening his tie.

“Hi, Harry!” You smile.

Your hair was up in a messy bun, and you still had all your work clothes on, but your flannel was unbuttoned, revealing your white tank top and plenty of cleavage. You go over to him and give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Not as big as your place, but it has what I need.”

“It’s lovely. One bedroom?”

“Mhm, and two bathrooms.” You say proudly. “I hope you like food from the crockpot. I set up some chili this morning before I left.”

“Chili sounds amazing, I love spicy food.” He takes his suit jacket off and throws on your couch.

“Great.” You smile and grab some sour cream and cheese from your fridge. You grab a couple of bowls and some spoons and you both serve yourselves. You both sit down at the small table you have in your kitchen.

“This is delicious, thank you.” He smiles.

“Oh, I’m so glad you like it.”

“I’m happy we could get together tonight.”

“Me too.” You smile.

You had fully warmed up to Harry at this point. You’d been seeing each other for a few weeks, and you had let many walls down. You liked him, you really liked him. You two also hadn’t done more than make out, and it was absolutely killing you.

“Do you have plans Saturday evening?”

“I don’t believe so, why? Another movie night?” You ask sort of excitedly and he chuckles.

“No, I wish. I have this charity gala to go to that I actually forgot all about until Stacey reminded me this morning. I’d love for you to join me.”

“Oh…a little fancier than I thought, but, sure.” You shrug. “I could do that. I’ll have to call my hairdresser to see if she can squeeze me in, I’m assuming I’ll probably want my hair done?”

“Only if you feel comfortable…”

“Will I need a gown?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, I have a couple to choose from in my closet. Do you know what suit you’re wearing?”

“Uh, yeah, here.” He takes his phone out to show you. It was pink with a design on the front. It was beautiful.

“Hm, I think I have a green dress that would look good with this. Pink and green look so nice together.” You use your napkin to wipe your mouth and stand up. “Come on.” You nod towards the hallway.

“Come on what?”

“I wanna show you the gown I have.”

“Oh, alright.”

He follows you into your room, but he stands in the doorway as you go into your closet. It was much smaller than his, but he liked the way you decorated. You utilized a lot of space. You can always tell when a tradesperson lives somewhere because everything always looked really nice. Here were built in shelves and storage units.

“You make those?”

“Mhm, and I made this closet twice as big.” You find the gown you’re thinking of and hold it up in front of your body to show him. “What do you think? Will it do the trick?”

“It’s beautiful, Y/N. Why do you have it?”

“When I was younger I used to participate in pageants. The scholarships were super helpful for college. Anyways, past winners get invited back pretty often and you’re supposed to dress really nice when you go, so I have a couple of formal gowns for when I get those calls.”

“I never would have taken you for a pageant girl.”

“I’m not really…but I needed the money, and I figured out how to play the game. I came in first twice in two different competitions. However, the girls I participated with weren’t very nice, so I wasn’t exactly sad when I got too old for it.” You hang the dress back up. “Don’t worry, I’ll be able to look the part with all your fancy friends.” You smirk and walk out of your room. You sit on your couch and he sits next to you.

“A lot of them aren’t really friends. Acquaintances really. Um, Stacey showed me the guest list today and my ex is apparently going to be there.”

“The model?”

“Yeah.”

“Wonderful.” You scoff. “So are we finally going to have the conversation?”

“What do you mean?”

“She was your last relationship right? Tell me what happened.”

“Not much to tell. We met at a dinner party for a mutual friend. We met in London, actually, but we both had places here in the city, so we kept seeing each other. I didn’t realize how well known she was, so that’s when the paparazzi started. We were together almost a year before it just got to be too much. She wanted me to basically give it all up for her so I could travel with her, but I thought it was selfish of her to ask me to do that, so we broke up.”

“Did you love her?”

“I did.” He says bluntly. “But it wasn’t the type of love I wanted. I don’t have any feelings for her whatsoever, I want you to know that.” He places his hand on your knee. “I just know she’s going to come over to me and look you up and down, and she’s going to be really snotty. She’s…well, she’s a bitch, to put it simply.”

“And you dated her for a year because?”

“Vanity. On paper, we were the perfect match, but I realized it felt like I wasn’t living my own life anymore. I’m much happier now.” He gives your knee a squeeze.

“Alright, well, I’m sure we’ll have a good time. Is it a sit down dinner?”

“It is.”

“Open bar?”

“Yup.”

“Dancing?”

“A little.”

“Sounds like a good time to me.” You smile.

“You’re amazing, thank you.” He leans to kiss you and that was that.

The day of the gala, your hairdresser was able to squeeze you in for an updo. You showed her the dress you’d be wearing, so she gave you an elegant bun. You had your nails done as well. You were glad you did because you had a nasty bruise on your thumb. That’ll be the last time you use a regular hammer and not just a nail gun.

When you get home you take out an old pearl necklace that was your great-grandmother’s that would go perfectly with the green dress. It was strapless and fit to your form, with a nice slit starting at one of your thighs. You found a pair of heels that went perfectly with it, and a white shall. You apply your makeup, and take a step back to take yourself in. You looked perfect. You take a selfie to send to Stacey.

Stacey: omfg!!! You’re gonna give Carina a run for her money, have fun!

You smile at the text and find your clutch that goes with the dress. Harry picks you up around seven. You gasp when you see a limo, and not just the regular car he usually picks you up in.

“All this for the two of us?” You ask as he gets out of the car. His suit looked so good. His jaw drops when he sees you.

“You look stunning, Y/N.” He gives you a gentle kiss on the cheek, and help you into the limo. “The limo’s just to keep up appearances. We’re essentially walking down a red carpet into the building. Know how to pose?”

“Oh, I can give face when I need to.” You smirk. “It was fun getting all dressed up since I don’t get to often.”

“I like your flannels too, I hope you know how sexy you look in your work clothes.”

Your cheeks heat up. Harry didn’t really talk like that to you often.

“I’ll have to wear my tool belt for you sometime…just my tool belt.” You whisper in his ear and then face forward. You send a shiver up his spine. He couldn’t wait for that.

When you pull up to the event, Harry gets out first. Cameras start flashing, and he extends his hand out to you. You stand up and nearly feel blinded, but you get through it. You walk with him, his hand on the small of your back. You’d stop occasionally to be photographed. There were reports asking Harry what your name was and other questions, but he didn’t answer a single one. Once you were inside you took a deep breath.

“You did amazing, thank you.”

“No problem. How come they wanted to know who I was?”

“So they can print some story about us. I don’t wanna give up your privacy, so my lips are staying sealed for now.”

You’re brought into a large ball room. There were silent auction items all around the perimeter that Harry would need to put some money down for.

“I hate these things. I’d be happy to just donate without having to get anything in return, you know?”

You walk around with him to look at the items.

“How come you’re not writing anything down?”

“I’m waiting for other people so I can put a larger amount down. They deduct the value of the item from the actual donation, so I wanna make sure enough money gets put down.”

“That’s…really philanthropic of you, Harry.”

“All the proceeds tonight go to inner city schools to get them new computers and other technology they’re in desperate need of.”

You weren’t sure if you’d ever meet Harry’s mother, but you hoped you would just so you could thank her for raising such a kind man. You both mingle with a few people, and eventually Harry puts his bids down for a few different items.

“If I win I’ll just donate this shit. I don’t need anything else.” He shrugs.

Waiters come around with h'orderves and drinks. You snatch a flute of champagne and a shrimp puff.

“Good, babe?” He smiles at you as you lick your lips.

“Very.” You giggle.

His smile fades when he sees Carina from across the room. She had a lovely blue gown on, and some man’s arm was snaked around her waist. She sees Harry and she sends him a small wave. He clutches your hip a little tighter. You look up at him.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, uh, wanna find our table?”

“Sure.”

You find your table and you both take your seat. You chat with the woman sitting next to you, and other people begin finding their seats. As the event gets started, waiters come around with food. Someone on a stage comes out and announces who has won what items. People clap. Harry won a couple of the items he bid on. He stands as people clap, and you clap as well. You kiss him on the cheek as he sits back down. Once dinner is through, some people start going out to the dance floor, and others stand around to mingle.

“Well if it isn’t the CEO himself.” Harry turns around the second he hears the accent. “Hi, Harry.”

“Hi, Carina.”

She takes him in for a gentle hug, and kisses him on both cheeks. You want to gag, but you know it’s just a cultural thing.

“And who might this be?” She looks you up and down.

“I’m Y/N.” You extend your hand and she shakes it. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same to you.” She smiles and looks at Harry. “I’m surprised to see you here with someone.”

“Could say the same to you.” He nods over to the man she came with. He was over talking with some other people.

“Oh, that’s Richard. He’s lovely. We met a few months back. He works remotely so he’s able to travel with me. It’s perfect.”

“Good for you.”

“What do you do?” She asks you.

“I’m a union electrician.” You say with a bright smile. “I got a degree in Mathematics and then I joined the trades world.”

“Oh my…I never would have guessed.” She smiles nervously. “Harry, may I borrow you for just a moment? Andrew is here too, and he misses you so much.”

“Um…sure.” He looks at you.

“Go ahead, I need to use the ladies room as it is.”

He watches you walk away and turns back to Carina.

“Andrew’s not here.” Harry says to her.

“I know, I just said that so we could chat. She’s not for you, and you know it.”

“What makes you think you have the right to say that to me?”

“Harry, you can’t be with some blue collar worker.”

“And why not?” He scoffs. “I’ll have you know she’s lovely and elegant, but she’s also not afraid to go to McDonald’s and stuff her face. In fact, she’s not afraid of food at all.”

“I’m on a very strict diet and you know it.” She huffs.

“Why don’t you worry about yourself and Richard?”

Harry turns on his heel and walks towards the restrooms. You were just coming out when you see him waiting.

“Are you alright?” You ask him.

“Yeah, feel like having a dance?”

“Definitely.”

You take his hand as he leads you back into the ballroom and onto the dance floor. The band was only playing slower songs, but that was just fine. Harry was really light on his feet. It made you smile as he led you around.

“You about ready to get out of here?” He whispers in your ear.

“Mhm.”

He smiles at you and leads you out. He says goodbye to a few people, and gets you outside. There were still reporters, but he gets you into the limo quickly.

“So…your ex…was she civil with you?”

“Yeah, nothing to worry about.” He throws his arm around you and kisses your hairline. “Okay to come back to mine?”

“Definitely.”

He gets you up into his place and gets you a glass of water.

“I had a lot of fun tonight.” You tell him.

“Me too, you definitely made it more fun. Those things can be so dreadful.”

“I just look at it as a free dinner.” You laugh.

“Oh, is that all it takes with you?” He smirks.

“Pretty much. I’ll go to a party like that with you anytime.”

“Good to know.” He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close to him. Yours go around his neck and you start kissing. You giggle when you let go of him and see your red lipstick all over his mouth.

“Sorry.” You try to rub it off with your thumb.

“No worries.” He chuckles. “Would you like to come upstairs?”

“I would.” You take your heels off, and follow him up.

He leads you into his large bedroom. You gaze at the beautiful furniture.

“I’ve got a walk in closet too.” He says. “You’d probably appreciate the craftsmanship.”

He opens the door for you and you step inside.

“It’s beautiful. I love built ins. Whoever did this did a great job.”

“I only hire the best, but you knew that.” You grip at his suit jacket and push him up against the doorframe of the closet. You slot your lips over his and he welcomes it.

“I want you, Harry.” You say against his lips.

“I want you too.” He kisses on your neck and bites down on your shoulder.

He walks you over to his bed until your legs his the frame. He keeps you steads as his hands find the zipper on the back of dress. You push his suit jacket off his shoulders and let it fall to the ground. He unzips your dress, but holds it up.

“Are you okay with all this?” He asks.

“God, yes.”

Your dress falls to the ground and pools at your feet. Your fingers work to unbutton his shirt. His eyes widen as he looks at the underwear set you’re wearing. You were wearing a strapless black bra with a black lace thong to match. Of course you still needed to wear a bra, your breasts were too large to without. You get his shirt off and you take a step back to admire his tattoos.

“I didn’t know you had so many.” Your hands trace off the ones on his collar bones, his torso, and his hips. “Even your arms.”

‘Got a few on my legs too.” He loves the way your hands felt on his body.

“I thought you just had the cross and the anchor. These are so cool.”

“Thanks.”

Your hands move to his belt buckle and get it undone, his pants drop to the floor moments later. You lick your lips when you see his tight boxers.

“Fuck, Harry, I want you so badly.”

You push him down on the bed and straddle him. His hands go to your hips, rubbing circles into your skin with his thumbs. He reaches up to unhook your bra, and tosses it to the floor. You switch positions so you’re lying on your back. He caresses your breasts and kisses on each of them. He puts his face between them and just enjoys the way your skin feels on him. You start giggling and he looks up at you.

“Breast man, huh?”

“Sorry, was that weird? You just have such a beautiful body.”

“Not weird at all, they’re yours to play with.” You grin.

“Oh, I like the sound of that a lot.”

He takes one of your nipples into his mouth and sucks harshly. You gasp as your hips buck up towards him. He does the same thing to the other before kissing down your body. His hands tug your thong below your hips.

“Can I take this off?”

“Please.”

You lift your hips to help him. He looks down at you and then up to your eyes.

“Can I?”

“Can you what?”

“Make you feel good.”

“Sure, but I wanna hear you say what exactly is going to make me feel good.”

His eyes darken as he looks at you.

“Y/N, I’m going to lick into your cunt until you’re screaming that you can’t take it anymore.”

Your mouth falls open as he parts your legs. He kisses from your knee to your inner thigh. Sucking on where he pleases. He uses his forearm to hold your hips down when he finally gets his tongue on you. He licks a flat stripe from your center up to your clit. You clutch at the soft blankets on his bed as you watch him. He makes eye contact with you when he starts to suck on your clit.

“Oh my god.” You moan as your head falls back. You feel him smirk against you. You start to tug at his curls when he swirls his tongue around you and then flicks it quickly on the nub. “Christ.” You say through gritted teeth.

His tongue moves back to your center where he licks into you. He groans at the taste of you. His middle and index finger move to rub your clit in circles while he uses his tongue to essentially fuck you. Your body was starting to feel hot all over, and you could feel a familiar knot tightening in your lower stomach. He assumes you’re starting to get close because you were starting to tighten around his tongue. He licks back up to your clit, and plunges his fingers inside you.

“Oh, fuck!” You cry out as his fingers work your insides. Your eyes roll into the back of your head when you feel him knuckle deep. “Harry, it’s so good, don’t stop!”

He groans his response as he sucks on your clit again. He curls his fingers up against your front wall where he knew you needed it. He feels you pulsating around him. He could hear you panting and it was music to his ears.

“Shit, oh, fuck, oh my god!” You scream as your orgasm washes over you. He continues to pump his fingers slowly to help you ride it out.

He sits up on his knees and wipes the slick away from his chin with the back of his hand. He licks his lips and smirks at you. You catch your breath and look up at him. You sit up slightly and grab at the band of his boxers.

“Do you want me to-“

“Next time, I really just want to fuck you.”

You bite your lip and nod at him. He takes his boxers off and your eyes grow wide when you see his full length. You spread your legs back apart for him, and he lines himself up.

“Shit, uh…condom.” He backs away from you and rummages through his night table for one.

“I’m on the pill…”

“Found one!” He looks at you. “What did you say?”

“I’m on the pill…if you didn’t feel like using one.” Your cheeks were starting to grow red. “I’m clean. Wouldn’t have let you go down on me if I wasn’t.”

“I’m clean too. So…you don’t want me to use one?”

“Nah, I kind of want you to come inside me if I’m being honest.”

“Jesus.” He grunts and tosses the condom aside. He gets back between your legs and rubs his tip along your slick folds and clit. “You’re positive?”

“Yes.”

He leans down to kiss you as he slowly pushes inside. He swallows you gasp and moan once he bottoms out. You tighten around him involuntarily. He gives you a moment to relax and adjust to him. You hadn’t been stretched out like this since god knows when.

“Go on.” You whisper.

He smiles into your neck as he starts to rock in and out of you. Your arch up into him. Your hands search for a nearby pillow.

“Hold on.” You tell him and lift your hips up, sliding a pillow under you. “Okay.”

“You’re killing me.” He breathes.

He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth as his thrusts pick up the pace. You wrap your legs around him and move along with him. Your hands slide down to his ass so your nails can sink into the fleshy area. He bites down on your collar bone as you keep moving along with him. He was used to women just starfishing under him, this was so nice. He felt really connected to you.

“Oh, shit.” You press your forehead into his chest. “Harry.” You moan.

“Gonna come again?”

“Mhm.”

He snakes a hand between the two of you so he can rub your clit, and that pushes you over the edge. Your nails rake up from his ass to his back as you come, making him moan out at the overwhelming feeling of being marked up by you.

“Can I bend you over the bed?”

You moan out your response. He pulls out of you and gets you on your feet, bending you over. He grips your hips and slips back inside you. All you can hear is his skin slapping against yours. You prop yourself up on your elbows and arch your back. He was hitting so fucking deep, and his tip was brushing against your g-spot. One of his hands goes back to your clit while the other grips the back of your neck while he pounds into you.

“Taking it so well, Y/N.” He grunts.

“Feels so good, fuck!”

He watches as your back arches more and sweat slides down your spine.

“I’m, I’m close.” He says.

“Yeah? You wanna come?”

“Yes, fuck.” He moans out and fills you up while you come again with him.

He had you screaming just like he said he would. He hold you close to him for a moment, his chest flush with your back. He kisses your back before pulling out. You clamp your legs together before anything has a chance to make a mess.

“Let me get you a rag.”

“S’okay, I’ll just use the bathroom.” He helps you stand up and you turn to face him. You grab him by the back of his neck to kiss him. “That was really nice.” You giggle.

You waddle to his bathroom while he grabs a fresh pair of boxers. You clean yourself up and come back out.

“Can I give you something to wear?”

“Please.” You smile. You couldn’t stop smiling, really.

He hands you one of his bed shirts. It had his initials embroidered on the chest pocket. He watches as you button it up.

“Comfortable?”

“Very.” You crawl onto the bed with him. You throw a leg over his and rest your head on his chest. He looks down at you and cups your cheek, pulling you in for a kiss.

“You make me really happy, Y/N.”

“You make me happy too, Harry. I may even let you stay over at my place sometime.” You chuckle.

“I’d like that.” He kisses your forehead. “But only if I’m staying over there as your boyfriend.” He grins.

“I think I’d feel comfortable with that.” You kiss his soft, swollen lips.

“Really? You’re into all this, you’re not just saying that because we had some hot sex?”

“Harry.” You giggle. “The sex was really hot, and I may have had my reservations about you, but we’ve gotten to know each other well, I’d like to be your girlfriend. Let’s make it official.”

“I have to warn you, I’m gonna want to spoil you rotten. You may get annoyed with me.”

“You can’t buy my affection, just remember that.”

“I know, I just can’t help wanting to just give you everything you want.”

“You’re what I want. I don’t care about all this.” You gesture to his extravagant bedroom.

“I know you don’t, I think that’s why I like you so much. You could care less!” He laughs. “It’s amazing. You’re totally not shallow. It’s refreshing.” He settles down further into the bed and you kiss him a few times on the cheek.

“I get busy a lot. When there’s over time I take it. I may have to break dates once in a while.”

“Same here.”

“If you’re traveling, I won’t be able to just drop everything to go with you.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. I like that you work hard and that you actually want to work. You have an honest job, and I really admire that.”

“Thanks.” You kiss on his chest. He liked that you were a kisser. Harry loved being loved on. “However, if you want to plan a trip to that beach house of yours…I certainly could put in for some vacation time.”

“You’d love it out there. It’s nice and private, we’d have our own beach. I have a boat too with a kitchen and bedroom below deck. It’s great.”

“This will definitely take some getting used to.” You laugh. “I’ll have to keep bringing you to dive bars so to knock you down a peg.” You joke.

“Whatever you need to do.” He smirks.

“I’m also going to teach you how to cook. We don’t need to have a catered meal every time we hang out here.”

“That seems fair. Could we start with that chili you made? It was so fucking good.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

You sigh happily and snuggle into his chest as he holds you. You both slept really well that night. You weren’t sure what exactly being a girlfriend to a CEO would entail, but as long as the both of you stayed on the same page about your values, you saw this relationship lasting for a very long time.

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles slow burn #harry styles x y/n #harry styles y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles smut #harry styles smut fic #ceo!Harry #harry styles au #pls tag if you reblog #feedback is always appreciated!!

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lovehugsandcandy · 4 years ago

Text

bloom (ColtxMC, RoD)

A/N: I almost did not finish this in time for Colt day and I would have been heartbroken. (also, alternate summary was “Colt has a plant” but GOD why would he ever have that, right?) @rodappreciationweek

Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD

Length: ~4500 words

Rating/Warnings: N*FW (It’s not explicit but there’s enough there that it’s probably N*FW. And swearing.)

Summary: Bloom where you’re planted.

It comes cheap, as cash deals often do. The walls are riddled with holes, gaping gunshots and massive dents inflicted in incidents even he doesn’t want the stories of; the roof is in shambles, caved to the floor in spots while leaks spread oily over the surface in others. But the land is secluded, safe, and, though it needs work, the foundation is sound.

Colt has never been afraid of hard work, anyway.

He wanted to rebuild on the ashes of his father’s shop. It would have been apt, fitting, rebuilding the place that had been his legacy, passed down from ancestor to ancestor until it arrived at his feet, decaying and ruined.

But it was too obvious. Every single time he drove by, he could see the undercover cops staking out the place, blindingly obvious behind the tinted windows of shiny SUVs. The drive also made him ill; when he caught sight of the charred sign and burnt out support beams, his vision would sway, hands clammy in leather gloves, heart racing a frenetic beat. The last time he sped through, he had needed to pull over, two blocks away, to spew stomach acid into a gutter.

He hadn’t gone back since.

But this new shop, this would work. He would make this work, rebuild here, in safety and relative anonymity, forging a new crew and avenging all he had lost.

A bitter voice cuts through his mental scheming. “There’s one more thing.”

“What?” He glares daggers at Smokey, the gruff man selling the place who earned his name from the trail of tobacco wafting behind him.

“The yard.”

He follows Smokey out back, to where two wrecks sit on concrete that bleeds into dust at the edges, all surrounded by rusted-out barbed wire fencing. The Lambo would be worth something, if the engine was still there, but the MacLaren is destroyed, probably only worth scrap metal and parts.

“All this is yours, too. But I ain’t moving shit.”

Colt shrugs. “Okay.” He surveys the lot. Buried in the dust, he notices a flash of green, a leaf peeking out of the dirt caked against a metal post. “The hell’s that?” he asks, pointing over to where the small stem is, remarkably, making its way out of the dry earth, spouting where no living thing should ever be able to grow. It’s tiny, barely an inch, but it’s vibrant amid the washed out dust basin surrounding it.

“That plant thing? Fuck do I know.” Smokey sticks his hand in his overall pocket, fishing around until he grabs a pack of smokes. “Anyway, like I said, it’s all yours.”

Colt hands over the cash, takes the keys, and starts planning.

~~~~~

He plasters the walls himself, sledgehammer tearing through the plywood and insulation, dust and dirt raining down on him until he’s covered, paint chips grinding into his skin until every visible inch is full of grit and grime. He stands in the shower for an eternity, scalding water raining on muscles tense with exertion, physical labor quieting the screaming rage in his head.

He can’t do everything himself, gets a truckload of guys to shingle the roof, hires an electrician to ensure that the lifts work on the floor. He keeps his ear to the ground, always scouting new talent, people looking to make a break into his world. There’s a few, various tuners and losers, but no one he trusts. Not yet.

One thing he can do is rebuild, plan, and deal with that stupid plant. He almost ignored it, figuring it would wither away on its own, but he has begrudging respect for something thriving in an inhospitable environment. The guy at the nursery thought it looked like a melon, handing over some instructions and a bag of soil that Colt balanced on his lap as the bike wove through city streets. It’s stupid, utterly ridiculous, but he puts the soil down, anyway. Maybe the melon just needs a chance.

By August, Mona’s out, sprung from jail by some hotshot lawyer and begrudging LAPD acknowledgement of the corruption in the force. He is under the bike when she saunters through the bay doors, a smirk on her face and swagger in her step. She makes a snide comment about his transmission, then wanders into the break room to make popcorn.

He stares after her for a full minute, completely befuddled, but finally shrugs and wanders out back to water the stupid melon.

He wonders if this is his life now.

~~~~~

Colt looks closer, dropping to his knees in a cloud of dust to peer incredulously at the ground beneath him. Yesterday, there had been only one green sprout, the result of careful tending and effort, somehow reaching burgeoning leaves through the fencing slats to chase the sun. But now, there are two, as an evil-looking clover emerges through the soil carefully packed against the fence. How the fuck did a weed grow here? Hell, he has no idea how the fucking melon was growing here, pushing through the dust that caked the ground, but he would be damned if he let a fucking weed ruin his work.

He’s just digging his fingers into the dirt, trying to get every offending root, when footsteps thud behind him.

“What the hell are you doing?” Mona asks, skeptically.

“Getting this fucking thing-”

“What is that?”

“A weed.” He drops the invader, and it scatters in the wind, dancing through the fencing.

“No…” She hesitates, sounding puzzled, and he squints at her profile in the sunlight, waiting. “The plant thing down there.”

“Guy at the store said he thinks it’s a melon.”

She blinks. “You’re growing a melon.” He doesn’t know what to make of her tone, half accusatory, half mocking, so he only shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets. Finally, she snorts. “It might be nice for you.”

“What?”

“Might be nice for you to actually make something, instead of fucking shit up all the time.”

He glares daggers at her retreating back before inspecting the stupid green stem again. It might be his imagination, but it already looks stronger, as if culling the invading weed had already strengthened its roots.

Maybe the fucking thing would thrive if its enemies were removed.

~~~~~~

In October, Ximena makes her way through the front door, a smile spreading across her face and a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. He’s speechless as she lifts him into a giant hug, his ribs creaking in protest.

“Heard things were getting better around here, sweetie.” Colt feels a bashful flush heat his cheeks at the familiar nickname, but she’s not wrong. He and Mona had just swiped a couple of Sodertaljes for a half a million just last week, and he’s already scheming to snatch two more. The crew is making a name for itself; he’s rebuilding. “Where’s Mona?”

“Back room,” he answers, watching X stroll away in absolute confusion before he wanders to the yard. Apparently, he can’t control the comings and goings of the dregs of his father’s crew.

But maybe he can control the fucking plant.

~~~~~

Ellie doesn’t come home for Thanksgiving.

He knew she wouldn’t. It’s his business to know things, the location of priceless cars, the name of the rival crew who’s been running jobs in the Hills. Collecting tidbits of information and splicing them into a bigger picture is one of those skills that keeps the crew afloat and him alive.

But knowing things about her (the spot at the curve of her shoulder that makes her cry out, exactly how much pressure to use where she’s so sensitive, hell, even the stupid, sappy shit like how she likes her coffee, all locked away deep in his brain), well, that’s far from business.

He knows her house (third from the corner with the busted up cruiser in the drive) and he would recognize her car anywhere, even just a flash of it.

She stays at school for Thanksgiving.

But she comes home for Winter Break. He drives by one morning (three am after a successful job, when the roar of adrenaline in his blood makes him desperately miss the one person he wants by his side) and it’s there, vivid pink reflecting the streetlights. He has to remind himself to fucking breathe.

The next afternoon, groggy after tossing and turning all fucking night, he can’t decide when he should just show up at her house and how to avoid the detective if he did.

He actually doesn’t need to decide.

“Why didn’t you rebuild the old shop?”

He spins, splashing the coffee in a sticky mess over concrete (one cream, two sugars, far too sweet to be anything more than a reminder). “What-” The smile on her face is playful, teasing, and his fingers itch to run through her hair. “How did you…?”

“You’re not the only one who has friends in low places.” She turns at the echoing footsteps and is soon swept into hugs and smiles and the dull banter of catching up.

But after, after he steals her away, upstairs to his loft, coaxing sugar sweet sounds from her lips with the rapaciousness of a man denied for far too long, he ensures that she remembers exactly who she came to the shop to see.

When he’s exhausted, temporarily sated yet only waiting until the next burst of energy for round two, he traces random designs down her bare back. “You ready to come back, yet?”

“Colt…”

“Hey, I know you’re too good for school. Just wondering if you know it yet.”

She spins in his arms; when her bare skin glances across his chest, he tightens his fingers, still curled into her back. “Jesus, Colt, you haven’t changed at all.”

“Did you expect me to?”

“Your dad…” His nails dig into her back at the mention; her wince makes him drop his hand to the sheets. She continues, “Your dad wanted more than this. For you.”

“What about what I want?”

“Well, what about what I want?”

He blinks, pulling his arm back. “The fuck? You’re doing what you want across the fucking country.” He watches her stand and storm about the room, pulling on clothes, swiping at her eyes. “Ellie, come on-”

“This was a mistake.”

He sits up, crossing his arms over his bare chest to fix her with his darkest glare. “What the hell does that-“

“I should have…” She trails off and, for a moment, he sees the glimmer of indecision in her eyes. “I made my choice. I’m going back to school and I can’t…” Her voice wavers and she doesn’t even finish the sentence.

When the door slams, he flops against the bed, worn and wilting.

~~~~~

Winter brings the first fruit.

One of the many benefits to living in Southern California is the weather, where each sunny day is a picture-perfect copy of the last. So, even though it’s February, Ximena watches as he carefully cuts the fruit from the vine and stands, cradling it in one arm. “Huh,” she says, shooting him a critical eye. “It’s kinda like that saying: bloom where you’re planted.”

“Huh?”

“The saying… bloom where you’re planted? It kinda means… um….“ Her hands flail about before settling across her chest. “Work with what you’ve got? Plants need fertile soil and plenty of water and sunlight. That plant was given this dusty piece of shit lot owned by a fledgling crew. But even though these aren’t really the best conditions, it’s still blooming anyway. Even though the circumstances aren’t the best, you need to use your talents where you are, not think about what could have been.”

He runs the words through his head, callused fingertips tracing the dappled skin of the melon, trying not to think of different circumstances. “Christ, X.” He shakes his head ruefully. “Its just a fucking plant.” He turns and heads through the shop, careful not to splatter fruit on the concrete, her heavy footsteps close behind.

Mona is already in the break room, lazing about the table, and he gingerly cuts into the skin, handing her and Ximena a pale orange slice.

“Is it hygienic to cut it with that knife?” X asks, teasingly, but takes the proffered piece, regardless.

“Shut up and try it.”

He waits as they bring it to their mouths, holding his breath as each takes a tentative bite. Finally, Ximena breaks the silence, wrinkling her nose. “It’s kind of… bitter.”

“You mean it’s fucking awful!” Mona spits the blob of flesh into a napkin, disgust curling her lip, and she wipes at her tongue rapidly.

He glares at them steadily but can’t disagree once he cuts his own piece. It tastes wrong, flesh too chewy, too tart on his tongue. His eyes water as he swallows it down; he closes the switchblade and chucks the entire melon into the trash.

Maybe this whole thing is a fucking waste of time.

Maybe nothing would ever bloom at this shop.

~~~~~

Winter also brings Toby.

Colt hears the engine roar from the loft and, when he opens the bay door, he gapes at the blaze before him, raging from the hood of a modded-up import.

“It’s not supposed to do that.” Toby leaps from the driver’s seat, grabbing the fire extinguisher that he apparently keeps conveniently under the passenger seat.

“No shit.”

“I think I dialed the ignition force up a little too high, but with a couple of modifications-”

“What are you doing here?”

Toby’s jaw drops. “What do you mean? I heard you were building a new crew.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, you suck at the delicate modifications needed to create the next generation of revolutionary sports cars, and you also wouldn’t know your way around surveillance technology if it bit you in the ass and bought you a milkshake afterwards.”

What the... Awkward phrasing aside, he’s not wrong. “What the fuck. Is everyone just gonna waltz right in and…” Colt trails off as Toby walks away, tripping over nothing on his way down the hall.

The cheer when he strolls into the break room is loud, raucous. Colt wonders when his shop became the thrift stop for local rejects.

He wonders why he does nothing about it.

~~~~~

“I’ve heard they like it when you play music for them.”

Colt looks up. “The fuck?!?”

Toby peers down at where he is carefully packing more soil around the base of the stem. “The plants,” he explains, eyes blinking wide behind his thick lenses. “I think they like music. Do you wanna borrow one of my German trance electronica CDs?”

“God, no,” Colt snarls, standing and wiping dirt on his jeans before turning heel, storming back into the shop.

After watching for two days (weren’t there supposed to be flowers sprouting on this fucking thing?), he finally buys a wireless speaker, hiding it next to the fence. At first, he tries classical; based on a quick internet search, soothing orchestra is recommended. However, the strings gnaw on his ears and, even worse, the plant still looks like shit.

Once he’s annoyed with that prissy crap, he flips to music he likes and is amazed when the furled leaves seemed to get greener and greener. Colt can just make out 2pac as he stares in amazement at the plant. Will I see the penitentiary or will I stay free? He shakes his head and walks away; he doesn’t know shit about plants.

~~~~~

She comes back for Spring Break, too. He doesn’t even need to drive by her house; she posts a picture at LAX, beaming grin filling his phone screen as she poses at arrivals.

He waits, doing petty jobs and minor repairs, anything to keep his hands occupied, but it doesn’t stop his mind from racing. Finally, on the fourth day, soft footsteps edge onto the shop floor. He tries to keep his eyes from widening; based on her smirk, he doesn’t succeed.

He doesn’t even let her speak, crossing the floor in five steps, arm on her wrist, dragging her upstairs so he can push her against the door.

“I’m not gonna apologize.” He says it into her mouth, words rushed to shorten the time before her lips were on his.

“I would never expect you to.”

“You know how important this is to me.” Her fingers curl in his jacket as he rolls his hips.

“I know,” she moans as his lips slide down her neck. “I just want… you could be so much more than this. I don’t want you to destroy yourself.”

He makes his way back up to kiss her ear. “Fuck, Ellie.” His voice is low with promise and she shivers at every word. “I’m going to destroy you.”

She laughs joyful and clear as they fall into bed, and he reacquaints himself with the curve of her shoulder, the soft skin of her thigh. The dirt under his nails leaves streaks of grit down her back, over her ass, and he scrubs her clean in the shower, catching the droplets of water as they fall from her lips.

“How long are you staying this time?”

She’s in a towel, water still dripping from the pile of hair at her nape, skin glowing from being scrubbed clean. Colt had never seen anything so radiant. “I’m home until Sunday.”

“Not what I was asking.”

“Tonight?” She bites her lips, eyes wide on his.

“I’ll take tonight.” He leans over to pull on the fabric, dropping the towel to the floor. Beaming, she squeals as he pulls her back into bed. If he only had tonight, he was gonna make it fucking worth it.

~~~~~

They try the melon again. It’s May and the days are getting longer; snooty colleges would soon let underclassmen fly home for the summer.

He tries not to think about it.

He cuts through the fruit, three pairs of eager eyes around him, and hands out crescents, his leg bouncing under the table as he waits and watches the crew take hesitant bites.

“It’s…” Mona chews thoughtfully. “It’s not bad.”

Ximena smiles. “It is definitely better than last time. It’s not very sweet, but at least it’s not terrible.”

“Thanks,” he replies dryly.

“What do you guys mean?” The words are hard to comprehend over the entire wedge that Toby has crammed into his mouth. “This is incredible!”

Colt takes a tentative bite. It definitely wasn’t as bad as last time, the sourness of the last attempt now faded into an inoffensive tartness. The flesh is soft against his tongue, but it’s not sweet; unlike the fruit from the store, it is bland, inoffensive, boring.

At least it’s edible, a marked improvement from when the first fruit sprung from the barren soil.

Only Toby takes another piece, but Colt counts it as a win.

~~~~~

The soil disappears easily, lather carrying it down the drain as if it were never there. The grease is more difficult, solvents and scrubbing not enough to take everything off, and he can see the dark lines coating his skin for days, until they are as much a part of him as the freckles dotting his nose and the scar under his rib cage.

He carries other dirt with him, foul and dark, and no amount of scrubbing will ever make him clean.

~~~~~

He almost thinks she won’t come back, not this time, that Spring Break was a bittersweet goodbye and her full year away has convinced her that her new life is a better fit, holding more promise than a crew still finding its legs and growing into its reputation. He fears her time in the books may have taught her she belongs in musty libraries and dim corridors, soaking up knowledge like she soaked up gearshifts and speed, and that formulas and theories would replace the itch to drive fast and take chances.

But he’s wrong.

The door opening on the shop floor barely twinges his consciousness, and the increased chatter doesn’t stir him either. He just rolls over, burrowing his face into the pillow.

But the hands sliding down his bare back definitely jar him awake and he whirls, brain working far slower than his limbs, and it takes a minute to come to grips with the figure in front of him. When he finally realizes that she isn’t some dream-induced phantom but is real, a corporeal figure perched over him, morning sunlight glancing off her hair and fingers solid at his back, well, then he moves, quickly pulling her down before she can change her mind, relearning how she cries out and moans his name.

After, her body drapes over his, slick skin on slick skin, and his fingers trace their way up her back, her forearms; he’s comparing the real Ellie in his arms with that of memories and dreams and his mental mapping is disturbed when her lips forms words, hot against his chest. “Have you ever gotten something you wanted and realized that you might not want it anymore?”

The question makes him pause; he can think of a million things he’s wanted, desperately, abject need coursing through his veins and making him desperate to destroy all obstacles.

But he can think of only one he has actually gotten. He pulls her close, heart simmering at the question, and drags needy lips up the bare skin of her shoulder, etching tongue and teeth in a haphazard line that only stops behind her ear, when the moan flows through her chest and vibrates against his skin. “I’ve gotten things I wanted and realized that I wanted them even more.”

Her answering smile glows in the sunlight and, yet again, he finds himself again lost to the world of sensation and pleasure and the utter rightness of her body under his.

When she sits up in bed, hours later, he is deeply satisfied when her voice again rasps over his name; he is so distracted by imagining all the things he can do that will make her again dip the vowel, slow and sexy, tongue sliding over the single syllable desperately, that he misses the question. “Wha-?”

“Show me around.”

He narrows his eyes. “You’ve been here before.”

“Yeah, but...” She tilts her shoulder and tugs the sheets tighter around bare skin; Colt pulls his eyes from mapping the dark marks lining her shoulder and focuses on her words. “I only really saw the break room and your bedroom.”

“The only important spots here.”

She huffs a sigh. “Show me around?”

“Fine, fine.” He trudges out of bed, dressing slower than normal since his eyes won’t stop cutting to her, jealously watching her jeans slide up to cover the teeth marks on her thigh. If she was just going to skip off again, he was going to do his damnedest to memorize the sight of her perched on his bed, glowing in the daylight.

“Ready?” she prods.

He rolls his eyes, throwing on his t-shirt and walking out of the room, taking the stairs twice at a time, hand vaguely waving at the shop floor as he saunters through. “Hydraulic lift. Air compressor. Impact wrench. The piece of shit that Toby swore he could get running two months ago, but the engine still won’t fucking turn over.” He turns to see her trailing careful fingertips over a toolbox. “Can we go back upstairs?”

“Is it like your dad’s shop?”

He starts. Usually he bristles when people mention Pop, fury and regret and a deep need to prove himself just below his skin; however, there is only curiosity brimming in her eyes, a hint of concern below the surface. He has nothing left to prove to her. “What?”

“I dunno. Does it have everything the old shop did?”

He shrugs. “Mostly. There’s more space, so I added in another lift. We also have the lot, so Tony has been collecting more pieces of shit that he swears will be vintage collectors one day.”

“There’s a lot?”

“Hm?” He eyes the distance between them and the stairs, probably 50 feet, but he could get Ellie back there and up to the loft in seconds if he were properly motivated. “Yeah, out back.”

“Can I see?”

Internally, he groans but nods, leading her out the back door and into the sun. It’s the same dust pit as normal, and he casts an unimpressed eye around the heaps of metal. However, Ellie looks enraptured, peering around the wrecks, walking the perimeter in slow, careful steps.

“Wow, it’s huge.” He shrugs; he feels the tips of his ears reddening and tries to fight it, but it’s a lost cause when she gazes at him like that. “Wait…” She pauses, eyes falling to the ground. “What’s that?”

“What?”

She kneels to the ground, hovering over the dust to stroke careful fingers over the melon. “This.”

“A stupid plant.”

“A plant?” She blinks up at him, squinting against the midday sun, and this time he can’t suppress the huff.

“Yeah, it’s a stupid melon thing. It was here when I bought the place and I’ve been trying to actually get something decent, but it’s fucking pointless.” She stares at him so long he fidgets, rocking back on his heels. “We’ve tried it a couple times, but it never tastes good. And I looked up when to water it and the guy at the shop blathered on about soil and sunlight, but it never seems to come out right.”

She falls silent again, and he stuffs his hands in his pocket, waiting until she finally asks, “You… you did this?”

He gapes. He did everything in this fucking place, from installing the bay doors to filling the tool chests to even putting together the bed she had just fallen apart in. “Yeah?”

“Huh,” she murmurs, eyes falling on him as if she was just seeing him for the first time.

He rocks back on his heels. “It’s just a stupid fucking plant.”

“I just… I never expected… you...” She stares at him, piercingly, as if she could see right through him, deep inside his brain to his deepest thoughts and desires and fears, deep to where she had already twisted tendrils inside him that he could never prune. “I thought you were gonna burn yourself down.”

“And I said we were both gonna be great.”

She bites her lip, considering, and Colt has the dawning realization that can actually, finally get what he wants. “When are you supposed to get fruit?” she asks and his heart skips a beat.

“Well…” He calculates days in his head. “It flowered a week ago, so I dunno, three more weeks? A month?” A smile spreads, slow and sure across her face, and Colt realizes that things will be different. “Why?” He smiles back. It’s impossible not to break into a grin when she looks at him like that, like he answered a question she never asked. “You gonna stick around?”

~~~~~

And when they finally cut into the melon, a week after he built two more things (a desk and a dresser, painted in such an audacious shade of pink that he smirks every time he walks into their room), he licks the juice dripping from the corner of her mouth, sucking the sweetness and laughter onto his tongue. It tastes amazing. It tastes like home.

Tags:

Perma @desireepow--1986 @leelee10898 @emichelle @client-327 @choicesgremlin @brightpinkpeppercorn @thequeenofcronuts @lilyofchoices @choicesarehard @desireepow-1986

ROD @mskaneko @lovemychoices @burnsoslow @troublemakerinspace @omgjasminesimone

Colt

@deimosensblog @alegria1580 @thefarrari @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves@jolietmaraud @flowerpowell@poeticscolt @zaira-oh-zaira @akrenich @sibella-plays-choices @maxwellsquidsuit @liamzigmichael4ever @octobereighth @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction @theeccentricbibliophile @dancingboba @tempesrature

RoDAW @ritachacha

#RoDAW #colt x mc #colt kaneko #n*fw #ride or die: a bad boy romance #playchoices fanfic #amy wites #cw: police #very brief police mention #but its there #it is late and i am tired #amy writes

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pointy-hat-witch · 4 years ago

Text

My gift for @smol-fatale for the @fyeahbnha secret santa event!! I had lots of fun writing it! Hope you enjoy it! I never wrote a ShinKami fic so I hope I did them justice! :)

Title: Hot Stuff Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Word count: 7233 words Summary: In which Shinsou’s Christmas Miracle happens in form of a broken stove and an electrician.

You can also read it on AO3! :)

Shinsou was, generally speaking, a loner by choice, mind you. He enjoyed his own company, living at his own pace. So, when Midoriya slowly but steadily made himself a presence in his life, he initially didn’t notice. And by the time he did, it was already too late.

Together with Uraraka, Midoriya’s almost-sorta-girlfriend(?), they moved into a three bed-room-apartment rather close to their uni. Every now and then, Shinsou asked himself how it ended up like that but whenever he thought about it, he reached to the conclusion that he didn’t really mind, after all. He found these friends, or rather they found him and now they’re his family.

Well, until moments like these.

Shinsou came home from one of his late lectures, and it was already dark outside which was no surprise for mid-december anyway. Because he was hungry, the lecture dragged on as it was and his last meal had been some time ago, he just wanted to fix himself a fast meal and watch a movie before passing out.

So, when he came home he first noticed the silence, the eerie silence. After around a year and half living with friends, he was fluent in reading the atmosphere, that was why he knew something was up. He was certain that Midoriya and Uraraka should be home already and that they hadn’t anything planned for tonight.

“Hello?” He patiently half-shouted into their apartment from their entry hall as he slipped out of his shoes. There was a shuffle in the kitchen and some muffled voices. Something was definitely amiss. Shinsou sighed.

Preparing himself mentally, he left his bag where it was, put on his slippers and slowly made his way toward the kitchen. He didn’t sneak up or anything but when he appeared in the door, both Uraraka and Midoriya jumped up as if he was Satan himself. They pressed their shoulders together, standing as rigid as humanly possible and their faces, hh god, Shinsou would have cracked at least a smile if his gut didn’t say something was awfully wrong.

“W-w-w-what’s up, Shinsou? Home already, huh? Kinda thought you would have come a little later, like you know, you could have gotten a coffee because it’s so late and you would have taken a bus later or even walked, so we didn’t really thought you would be-“ Midoriya continued babbling but Shinsou already zoned out, staring neutrally over to Uraraka.

And, oh, Uraraka. “Why on earth don’t you breathe?” Shinsou interrupted Midoriya as he slowly squinted at her round cheeks, her eyes almost bulging out.

“Baaaah!“ Uraraka pushed out all of her breath she held in and then took a deep breath afterward.

“Sorry, ahhh,” she whined, fanning herself, “I was getting so nauseous and just had to.”

“Why did you feel nauseous?” Shinsou’s voice cut through the air that was as thick as butter.

“Uhhhh,” Midoriya and Uraraka looked at each other in panic but after a couple of silent seconds exhaled defeatedly. Whatever it was, they couldn’t keep him in the dark forever. They each took a step to the side, moving away from each other to show him the disaster.

“What am I looking at, guys?” Shinsou asked, fully aware of what he was looking at. But he needed them to say it.

“We, uh,” Uraraka gesticulated wildly without saying anything, looking at every possible thing in the room except Shinsou and that. Shinsou’s gaze wandered over to Midoriya who’s shoulders were perched up, elbows close to his body while mumbling inconceivable into one of his hands.

“Guys.” Shinsou sighed. “Just, what happened?”

“We wanted to make dinner,” Uraraka whined, “for you, you know? Mondays are bad as they are and you have a full day of classes so we thought we could, uh, make you dinner.”

Midoriya nodded, his hair bobbing with the motion. “And we just got started, like prepping and we needed flour for the batter and it-“

“It just,” Uraraka threw her arms in the air, “the glass container just slipped through my fingers.”

“And fell on the stove.”

“And fell on the stove.” Shinsou mumbled, nodding solemnly. Yeah, this was his chosen family. Smashing their ceramic stove plate with a glass of flour. He stared at the abomination. The cupboard right next to the stove was a little higher than usual, so Uraraka had probably stood on her toes to reach the glass and it must have bounced off her arm right in the middle of the stove plate, smashing it into pieces. Everywhere black shards. Leaving the stove irreparable.

“Did you get hurt?” Shinsou asked as he kneeled down to pick up some of the bigger pieces.

“No!” They both shook their heads.

“Then that’s all that matters.” Complaining about spilled milk wouldn’t do neither of them any good. He knew it was an accident, shit happens.

“We’re sorry, Shinsou.”

Shinsou blinked and looked up. Both Uraraka and Midoriya looked at the floor, Uraraka fighting off tears and Midoriya balling his hands into fists.

Yeah, those were his family. If he would have been still with his blood relatives they- no. Shinsou didn’t think about that anymore.

Shinsou shook his head, almost smiling fondly. “Don’t worry about it. You didn’t get hurt, so it doesn’t matter. We can just order food.”

Averting another disaster, as Uraraka and Midoriya looked like they wanted to jump on him to smother him with their affection, Shinsou got them to help him clean up the kitchen, before they ordered food, which his friends paid for, and watched a movie until he passed out.

He woke up the next morning with his blanket thrown over him and he indulged himself for another five minutes, snuggling into the heavy blanket. But, alas, even though he only had two classes in the afternoon, he had some homework from the day before, so he had to get up eventually. And the earlier the better.

When he got up, he noticed a small piece of paper on the couch table with his name neatly written on.

Curious, he picked it up and unfolded it.

“Dear Shinsou,

we hope you slept well. You looked like you were dead at least.. Sorry again for the stove. Please call the landlord about it. He likes you.

Love,

Your besties!!”

Shinsou couldn’t decide whom of them he wanted to strangle first. Letting out a silent groan, Shinsou let himself fall back onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling. Today was an even more low energy day than usual, so the thought about calling someone was already taking a toll on him.

They all knew, Aizawa wouldn’t yell at them or anything. He was the best landlord you could get, honestly. Not they often, say, smash their stove plate but if they needed anything done in their apartment he would get it done in a few days. Sometimes, he even just came over to talk and check in if they’re alright, studying and working and all that.

And Shinsou and he may or may not clicked right from the start. They both were low-tension, didn’t talk around the bush and didn’t need to tiptoe around each other. If he could choose, Shinsou kind of wanted to have him as a dad. But that was something he would ever say out loud.

Still, why he needed to call him was beyond him.

He searched around for his phone blindly, not bothering looking away from the ceiling. When he finally found it, his finger scrolled through his contacts, their landlord a commonly called number. Shinsou sighed. He dialed.

“What did they do now?” Aizawa’s voice was gruff, probably only just gotten out of bed himself, for what Shinsou felt a little guilty. They both didn’t like talking on the phone, but both his roommates and his spouse were notorious in getting them to do it.

“They broke the stove plate.” He cut right to the chase.

“They did what now?”

“Dropped a glass on it. Smashed it.”

“They smashed the-,” Aizawa mumbled in disbelief to himself.

“Do you have an electrician or a company you use for stuff like that? I can call them. And we pay, of course. Our fault.”

“Their fault,” Aizawa pointed out, “but yeah. I know someone. I’ll give them a call.”

They agreed that the electrician either comes until 1 pm or the next day in the evening and their call ended. As short as it was and for some may sound a little standoff-ish, Shinsou liked those calls the most. They weren’t as dreadful as those where he had to make small talk and offend the other person by not being the friendliest customer or something.

When he finally was done with that, he fixed himself a bowl of cereal and then sat down on his desk to get some work done before heading off to uni.

When the doorbell rang, Shinsou almost flinched, hunched over his notes about commonly known phobias. Geez. He rubbed his face as he stumbled over to the door, not thinking twice about making himself any more presentable. He, first of all, didn’t give a flying fuck about what an electrician would think about him, and secondly, it was a apartment with three students, what could anyone expect?

What he didn’t expect, was to look into the bright face of someone his age, grinning around a lollipop.

“Yo!” He almost shouted, as he pushed up his cap a little, grinning around his lollipop even wider.

“Hi.” Shinsou answered in the most monotonous voice he could muster but it didn’t deter the other to smile any less.

“I heard you have a broken stove.”

“Yeah.” He stepped aside, letting the guy inside. “First door to the right.”

“Gotcha!” He nodded, pulling his feet out of his shoes. “Oh, I’m Kaminari, by the way.”

“Uh-huh.” Shinsou wasn’t sure how to handle this ball of energy. Literally. When the electrician took his cap off, clipping it to his belt, his yellow hair showed a black streak in his fringe which resembled a flash of lighting. His steps had a little spring to them, his fingers kept tapping to some rhythm, his eyes darting around. And Shinsou only knew this guy for about ten seconds.

“Oh.” Kaminari said as he entered the kitchen. “Well, yeah, that is fucked. In my professional opinion, of course.” He threw his head back and laughed. He fucking laughed at his own joke. “How in god’s name did you do that, man?” Kaminari walked up to the smashed stove plate, without the glass shards mind you, looking at it in fascination.

“My roommates dropped a glass on it.” Shinsou crossed his arms lazily, leaning against the kitchen door frame. “What can you do about it?”

“That sounds like your roommates are a blast!” He laughed again, pushing his lollipop around in his mouth. “Well, I am great at my job but that,” he pointed at the broken ceramic plate, “even I can’t fix that. Got to get you a new one.”

“Figured as much.” Shinsou groaned. “How long will that take?”

“Not that long,” Kaminari mused, pulling out a folding rule. “Oh, did you take out the fuse?”

“Huh?”

Kaminari laughed, again. “That answers it, hehe. Where is your fuse box?” Though Kaminari laughed again and again and kept a lazy smile on his lips, Shinsou never felt that he laughed at him, he just was … amused. And it kinda made it easier to talk to him.

“Over there,” Shinsou pointed back to the entrance hall, next to the small coat rack.

“Gotcha!” Kaminari hopped over to it, with one look flipped one of the like fifty switches, which Shinsou had only a very, very general idea for what they were, and danced back into the kitchen.

“Didn’t plan on getting fried by a smashed stove today!” He winked at Shinsou as he laid down his folding rule to measure the plate.

Shinsou was frozen on the spot. Did he just wink at him? Was he … no. He was just like that, that wasn’t anything weird, was it?

“Alrighty,” Kaminari mumbled around his lollipop, writing some numbers on his notepad that he pushed back into one of his numerous pockets. “It’s a standard stove plate, so nothing hard to get by. I would say tomorrow, the day after tomorrow the latest I can install the new one. Does one of the days work better for you?”

Shinsou blinked himself out of his own stupor, mentally going through his schedule. “I could do tomorrow evening or the evening after that.”

“Tomorrow it is then!” Kaminari smiled around his now almost vanished lollipop. “Uh, can I have your phone number? Just in case, it doesn’t work out for whatever reason, you know?”

“Sure.” Shinsou nodded, rattling off his number. Kaminari typed at his phone, throwing Shinsou a quick glance, clearing his throat.

“And, uh, I didn’t catch your name?”

There was a beat silence, before Shinsou answered slowly.

“Shinsou Hitoshi. Got it.” Kaminari smiled. His fingers fished out another lollipop, unwrapping it so fast Shinsou has never seen anyone do it before and popping it into his mouth. The other stick wandered into a small container with at least five other empty sticks. Uh, okay.

“Well then, Shinsou,” Kaminari said in his usual loud voice, Shinsou just figured out, “see you tomorrow!”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” Shinsou nodded as Kaminari slipped back into his shoes and then was out the door after a short wave.

Shinsou didn’t know how long he stood in the entrance hall after Kaminari left. It was kinda like a storm passing by and Shinsou had to process what just happened. Like, nothing bad happened, Kaminari did his job, was friendly, professional. But… but why did it feel like there so much more that happened?

Shinsou shook his head. It was just their wavelengths that were way off and it just was too much all of the sudden, Shinsou figured. Though, if Kaminari felt like so high tension and brimming with energy, why didn’t Shinsou feel drained in the least?

---

Since he only had morning classes, Shinsou spent the afternoon with his roommates. They brought some takeout with them on their way home, so they had some warm food at least. Shinsou was appreciative of them buying all the food, college students being notoriously broke as they were, though it didn’t come up yet, Shinsou planned to chip in with the repair costs, of course. They’re his closest friends after all.

Of course they did speak about the short visit of the electrician and in hindsight, Shinsou ought to know better, but he brought up the topic just to inform them. But he must have slipped in something of the sort that he felt weirdly calm around this energetic guy, because they both brought up sudden plans right after.

So, when 7 p.m. rolled around, he was all alone in the apartment again. And his heart was weirdly pounding in his chest. That was why he literally flinched when his phone rang on full blast. He forgot to put his volume back down after watching a cat video because who the fuck did call anybody these days?

The number was unknown and everything in him screamed to just not pick up. But then his finger was already sliding the “accept” button to the side.

“Shinsou speaking.” He pinched his nose, already berating himself for getting on the phone with a stranger.

“Ah! Hey, Shinsou! It’s Kaminari! The electrician? From yesterday. Because of the stove?” Kaminari’s voice was even louder through the phone, practically screaming in his ear and Shinsou had to hold his phone away before turning down the output volume.

“Yeah, Kaminari. I remember. What’s up?” Shinsou licked his lips, his mouth gone dry all of the sudden.

“I just wanted to check in, if I can come in around half an hour?” There was some traffic noise in the background, he probably just finished up his last customer.

“Yeah, half an hour. I’m here.”

“Perfect! Then I’m just gonna pick up your wonderful new stove plate and come right over!”

“Great.”

Kaminari chuckled and Shinsou’s skin prickled. It even sounded like he had yet another lollipop between his lips, clacking occasionally against his teeth.

“See you soon, Shinsou!” Kaminari hung up before Shinsou could even say anything. He let his phone fall out of his hand on the couch, pressing his hands against his face as he leaned back. What was going on with him? He … was looking forward to seeing Kaminari again? What in the ever loving fuck?

The next half hour went by agonizingly slowly since Shinsou looked at his phone every other minute, both to check the time but also, and he would never admit to it, maybe getting another call from the electrician.

When it (finally) rang at the door, Shinsou had to force himself not to run to the door. Purposefully slowly he opened the door to Kaminari leaning against the stove plate, properly secured in Styrofoam.

“Hey,” he grinned around his lollipop, “I chose the best stove for you!”

“Tha-“

“Out of a range of options!” Kaminari proceeded to put his hands up, motioning finger guns, while winking at Shinsou. And then snorted with laughter himself.

Shinsou didn’t know what did it for him. The absolute absurdity of the situation, the worst pun he ever heard, or Kaminari laughing at his own joke. Maybe all together. But he had to turn his head to the side and snort behind his hand.

“I saw that!” Kaminari yowled, high fiving himself. “Still got it!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Shinsou asked in the least serious way possible.

“Come on! That was funny!” Kaminari grinned, pulling off his shoes as he more or less invited himself in. Well, Shinsou did step aside to let him in anyway.

“It wasn’t really.” He shook his head, hands pushed inside his pockets as he didn’t know what to do with them.

“But you laughed!” Kaminari exclaimed, carrying the stove plate that looked like it weighted nothing in his arms over to the kitchen.

“I laughed because it was stupid.”

“Whatever the reason, I made you laugh!” Kaminari threw a quick glance over his shoulder at him, before putting the stove plate down right in front of the destroyed one.

“You didn’t turn on the fuse again, did you?”

Shinsou shook his head. “Why would we? I think you were the first one to ever touch that box in this household to begin with.”

That made Kaminari throw his head back with laughter. Why, Shinsou didn’t know but it made him feel warm that something he said made Kaminari laugh so earnestly.

“Are your roommates ever home?” Kaminari opened the cupboard underneath the broken stove plate, getting his flashlight to look at the high-tension socket. “Or just to break your stuff?”

Shinsou could see Kaminari’s shoulders tremble as he suppressed his laughter. Taking a deep breath and exhaling silently through his mouth, Shinsou leaned against the doorframe.

“They had some plans. Suddenly,” he added under his breath, shaking his head. “We do lots of stove together, don’t worry. They’re great friends.”

Kaminari’s whole body shook, giggling silently. He pulled out a small screwdriver and undid the lid of the outlet. There were a couple of silent seconds as Kaminari carefully pulled out the few wires, before coming up again.

“Wanna give me a hand?” He grinned, setting the flashlight to the side, still kneeling on the ground.

“And doing your job without getting paid?” Shinsou answered but stepped up next to the other regardless.

“Ha, you wish!” Kaminari pushed his lollipop around in his mouth, grinning widely. “Okay, just lift the plate when I push it up.”

“And I won’t get electrocuted for sure?”

“Alas, I’m too good at my job for this to happen. An unfortunate circumstance of being gorgeous and talented.” Kaminari shrugged, shaking his head with a mock devastated expression. Shinsou snorted against his better judgment and didn’t acknowledge the knowing grin from Kaminari.

The plate lifted up a few centimeters as Kaminari pushed it from below and Shinsou grabbed it around the edges, raising it up a little higher. It was, indeed, lighter than he thought.

“Great, thanks.” Kaminari stood up and took it off Shinsou’s hands, standing so close to him he could smell the strawberry scented lollipop through his lips. Kaminari put the broken plate flat on the ground, so as to not let any loose shards fall off. Shinsou stepped back to the side when Kaminari lifted up the other stove plate, put it into its designated place and was back on his knees within seconds. Talk about efficiency.

Another few hand movements and the wires were back in place, the lid was screwed back on the socket and Kaminari stood back up.

“Done and done. Just a last check.” He jogged out of the kitchen and Shinsou was surprised that he still knew where the fuse box was. He heard the switch being flipped and then Kaminari was jogging back in.

“Moment of truth.”

Kaminari turned one of the four knobs on the stove plate and with a silent electric vibration one of the four panels slowly turned red. Kaminari grinned self-satisfied and turned it off again.

“Perfect. Everything as it should be?”

“Yeah, uh, thanks.” Shinsou nodded, a little impressed. That wasn’t complicated in the least and didn’t take as much time as he thought. Probably a lot more expensive than expected, though.

“Great, then I just need you to,” Kaminari fumbled through his pockets to pull out some piece of paper, “sign these papers off. To accept the repair and that stuff.” Kaminari tapped on some boxes Shinsou had to tick and the line he had to sign on.

“Yeah, sure.” Shinsou accepted the pen Kaminari pulled out of another pocket. For a second Shinsou skimmed over the paper, just to be totally sure he wasn’t in some kind of high caliber scam or something but everything seemed to be in order, so he signed it.

“Then we’re done here.” Kaminari folded the paper back into his pocket and saluted Shinsou lazily. “My pleasure.”

“Uh, sure.” Shinsou’s thoughts came to a screeching stop as he realized that Kaminari was about to leave. Like, for good. And somehow it made him anxious. He didn’t want him to leave, instead he wants to hear more bad puns and his contagious laughter.

“Have a nice holiday!” Kaminari crunched the last bit of his lollipop and waved.

“Uh, yeah, thanks. You, too. Don’t get electrocuted by another smashed stove. Or something.” Shinsou pulled at one strand of his hair, unsure where to look.

“I’ll be careful!” Kaminari laughed, popping in another lollipop. “Well, then. See you, hot stove,” Kaminari winked and was out of the door. Leaving Shinsou staring at the closed door.

What the fuck?

---

It didn’t help at all, that Uraraka was literally rolling on the carpet in the living room and Midoriya’s shoulders shook while making a face as to no burst out laughing, when Shinsou told them about his second encounter with the electrician. He never regretted moving in with them more than in that moment.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Midoriya held a finger up before covering his mouth, mumbling something Shinsou didn’t quite get. Uraraka sat up, wiping away the tears that kept on rolling over her cheeks.

“So, what if,” Midoriya looked between them back and forth, “the lollipop was a metaphor all along?”

Uraraka shrieked and fell back down, holding her stomach from laughing so hard. And Shinsou stared outside the window, wishing he was somewhere else but here.

“But jokes aside,” Uraraka said from the floor, spread like a starfish, “you gonna text him or something? Like, you both pretty much find each other … likeable.” They both burst into a small fit of laughter.

Shinsou shook his head. “Why would I?” he sighed. “Sure, mayyyybe,” he fixed them both with a glare and they pressed their lips together, “we kinda sort of found each other tolerable, but,” he leaned back against the couch, crossing his arms, “he just did his job and maybe that’s just his way to talk to customers.”

“Whatever you say, hot stove,” Midoriya snorted.

And if Shinsou threw them both out with a hearty kick in the ass, he would pledge self-defense for his mentality.

---

It wasn’t that Shinsou not thought about maybe texting Kaminari after all since he had his number after he called him. But it didn’t feel right to text him on his work phone just because he felt like his social anxiety wasn’t as bad with his electrician than with everybody else. What kind of reason is that? And then he got flooded with assignments for almost all of his classes due before the Christmas holidays and it kind of slipped his mind.

On the morning of Christmas Eve, Shinsou said goodbye to Uraraka and Midoriya who both had promised their respective families to celebrate with them. They were home almost never already, that’s why they had these fixed days they just had to come home. And Shinsou felt warmed to the core, when they tried to get out of it to spend Christmas with him.

It was no secret that Shinsou would spend Christmas alone and he honestly didn’t mind. Christmas wasn’t a holiday he celebrated in the first place but just knowing everyone spent it with people they love sometimes can be pretty lonely. And spending these days with his blood rela- no, he didn’t even finish that thought. He rather felt like the loneliest person on earth than to spend Christmas with them.

So, he had to give his friends a crushing hug, reassuring them that he really didn’t mind, and he would text them as soon as something came up. It still didn’t make them stop crying, even when they were out the door and he waved at them until they were around the corner of the hallway.

His friends were the best.

The plan was to write a little bit on his paper about the impact of forced interaction because of holidays with family members and then watch a movie and order take out. Even if the stove was working again, it didn’t mean he had to use it.

When the doorbell rang at around noon, Shinsou looked up in confusion. He didn’t order anything yet, did he? He stumbled a few meters as his legs had fallen asleep sitting cross-legged for the past hours on the ground in front of the coffee table.

When he opened the door, it was his landlord Aizawa standing in front of him.

“Uh, hi?” Shinsou blinked, mentally going through anything that could have prompted his landlord to show up. They always paid in time, he wasn’t even remotely too loud to bother his neighbors, there was nothing leaking in the apartment…

“For you,” Aizawa held up a plastic bag, a food container shimmering through the almost transparent fabric. “Hizashi cooked a little too much. And we didn’t want it to get to waste.”

Shinsou looked at the bag and back at Aizawa’s tired face. He didn’t meet his eyes, staring at the floor.

“But your husb-,” Shinsou started but shut himself up. Aizawa’s eyebrow twitched up, but didn’t say anything as Shinsou took the plastic bag.

“Thank you, Aizawa.” Shinsou took a quick glance inside, but couldn’t make out anything specific.

“Merry Christmas, Shinsou,” Aizawa pulled up his scarf and nodded. “If you need anything, just give me a call.”

“Thanks, I will. And merry Christmas to you and Yamada, too.” Shinsou answered, raising his hand in a small wave. He looked after Aizawa’s back until he reached the staircase, where his landlord raised his hand one last time without looking back.

Shinsou went back inside and closed the door before leaning against it. He rubbed at his eye with the ball of his hand, squinting against the tear ducts that threaten to open up. Damn. he didn’t need to be around people to know he was loved so dearly.

But he for sure sent Uraraka and Midoriya a text message for snitching to their landlord that he’ll be home alone. But he also thanked them. And then send them a picture with the food container to make them jealous because they all knew what a great cook Aizawa’s husband was.

Taking a deep breath, willing his eyes to stay dry, Shinsou decided it was time for a break anyway. In the kitchen Shinsou turned on the rice cooker and then took a look at the food container. It was still a little warm and just smelled heavenly. Shinsou seemed to be in luck to get a taste of Yamada’s curry to which his growling stomach agreed.

He put the curry into a pot to reheat it, turned the stove on low heat and walked back to the living room to make some room to eat. It didn’t even take him five minutes when walked back into the kitchen, not even being able to wait twenty minutes, he tried to reason with himself if he even needed rice or could eat it crunchy and call it fried rice for a split second, as he stirred the curry.

Though … it didn’t smell any different, like it didn’t unfold its whole flavor when getting heated up. Shinsou dipped his finger into the curry to feel that it had cooled down even more. Blinking, he pushed the pot aside, hovering his hand over the stove plate to feel no heat at all. He turned the knob to the highest number, but the panel didn’t turn red at all, let alone get warm.

This just couldn’t be happening. Shinsou counted to ten inside his head, before turning the stove and the rice cooker off for good. His next action was to look up the landline of the company that had sent him the electrician that was “alas, too good at his job” and hoped they were still open.

Luck was on his side for that matter at least, since the call connected. The free-line signal went on for an alarming long time until someone picked up. A gruff voice answered, sounding like they had their fair share of annoying customers on Christmas Eve already. After getting through the greetings, Shinsou went right to the point. He didn’t brag about being the perfect customer, he was polite, for sure, but he didn’t suck up to them.

“The stove plate one of your electricians installed last week doesn’t work anymore.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he didn’t sound genuine at all, but Shinsou didn’t care. He just needed someone to fix it. “We have someone for emergencies on duty today. As soon as he is done with his current assignment, I’ll send him over. That okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Great. Bye.” And he hung up.

Shinsou exhaled hard, nibbling at his lower lip. What now? Kicking his heels for between half an hour to five hours for someone to come? Working on his paper some more? Order some food already, maybe ruining his appetite?

After an hour he spent playing random games on his phone, upside down on the couch, the doorbell rang yet again this day. It didn’t make Shinsou any less anxious answering the door, though, even if he knew who it would be.

Kaminari stood at the door, cheeks slightly red, his chest rising and falling heavy, almost as if he hurried over here. Shinsou decided to ignore that for his own good.

“Yo!” Kaminari grinned, this time pulling out the lollipop and bowed slightly with his cap pulled off. “I’m terribly sorry about that mistake.”

“Uh,” Shinsou blinked. He didn’t expect such a sincere apology. “Don’t worry about it. I just wanna get something to eat, you know?”

“Yeah, totally!” Kaminari was back grinning at him and walked in as if it was already his own home. And Shinsou honestly didn’t mind. He even opened the fuse box to flip the switch for the high-tension outlet on his way as if it was the most natural thing to do.

“Your friends coming home for dinner, then?” Kaminari asked as he entered the kitchen, Shinsou slowly following him.

“Nah,” he tilted his head, one hand on his neck. “They spend Christmas with their family.”

“Huh?” Kaminari was already kneeling in front of the counter, looking over his shoulder like a lost puppy. “What about you? Does your family not meet up on Christmas Eve?”

Shinsou clenched his jaw, scratching his neck. “No.”

Even if he found Kaminari sympathetic and maybe even liked him a little bit, he still was a stranger and he didn’t need to tell him about any potential tragic backstory. And fortunately, Kaminari seemed to get the hint.

“Gotcha.” Kaminari pulled out his flashlight, leaning inside the cupboard. “I’m gonna spend Christmas Eve alone, too, you know? Though, some friends come over tomorrow evening.”

Shinsou blinked. “Uh-huh. So… what are you gonna do tonight?”

Kaminari had the audacity to lean back on his heels, looking over his shoulder with a smug grin. “What? You gonna ask me out on Christmas after meeting like three times? Shinsou,” he shook his head, “I’m on the clock, you know?”

Shinsou was speechless. Before he could even say anything, Kaminari leaned back under and this time opened up a small panel on the downside of the stove plate.

“Cat got your tongue?” Kaminari asked from inside, not sounding any less smug than before.

“Does your small talk always end up in something romantically and/or sexually implied?”

Kaminari looked, once again over his shoulder, pulling out his lollipop while smacking his lips lewdly. “I don’t know, does it?”

“Goddamnit.” Shinsou mumbled under his breath. Both done and frustratingly smitten with Kaminari. The offending electrician giggled before closing the panel and coming back to his feet again.

“The wire was a little loose, no big deal.” He said, back to his usual voice. “Should be no problems from here on out.”

“That’s what you said the last time.”

“Oh, did I?” Kaminari squinted at the ceiling as if to underline how hard he was thinking back to it. “Can’t remember.” He finally said, shaking his head.

“But now you really don’t have to worry about anything at all anymore.” He pushed his flashlight and screwdriver back into his pockets, unclipping his cap and putting it back on his head.

Shinsou nodded, scrunching up his face in annoyance or disappointed, he didn’t know either.

“Hey, Shinsou?” Kaminari asked around his lollipop as he put on his shoes.

“What?”

“My shift ends at around eight. Give or take half an hour depending on my last assignment.”

“And?” Shinsou raised both his eyebrows, playing nervously with the small hair at his neck.

“Well,” Kaminari chuckled but it was dry, not with its usual lightness, “I just… fuck.” He whispered to himself.

“What, Kaminari?” Shinsou pushed, his voice steadier than he would have thought with his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

“I just thought, you’re alone on Christmas Eve, I’m alone on Christmas Eve,” Kaminari rattled on, not looking back at him, “and I just, you know, I just thought it would be nice to spend it with someone. Who was funny. Or something. You know?”

Shinsou stepped a little closer, seeing that Kaminari’s neck turned bright red and Shinsou had to swallow hard around the lump in his throat. Fuck, indeed.

“You like Chinese food?”

“Huh?” Kaminari turned around half way this time, his cheeks still a little red.

“When you come over, bring Chinese Food. Or Indian. I’m not picky.” Shinsou mumbled, suddenly unsure of what to do or say, kicking at nothing. But he didn’t miss Kaminari’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree.

“Chinese sounds awesome!” Kaminari stood up, suddenly in a hurry. “I’m gonna call you when I’m on the way! See you later, Shinsou!” He shouted as he ran out the apartment, not even bothering to close the door.

The next few hours Shinsou tried to concentrate on writing his paper, failing miserably. He ate some of the curry from Yamada and Aizawa and it was as good as expected but Shinsou found himself looking more forward to the Chinese Takeout. Or the company with it. So, he only ate half of it and put the other half in the fridge for tomorrow.

He ended up looking at his phone every other minute, writing a sentence, then looking at it again. It goes without saying, but he didn’t get any real work done and he knew he had to revise everything he wrote on the last page.

The doorbell rang for the third time this day but Shinsou’s gut didn’t do its usual gymnastic exercises and before he knew, he was already in the entrance hall, opening up. Kaminari changed out of his work jumpsuit into his casual clothes. A thick coat with a dark purple scarf and hat buried him almost completely. His nose was a little red from the cold as he was overall dusted in light snow. But his smile was wide and seemed to melt the snow and cold away.

“Delivery!” It was almost unsettling that there was no lollipop in his mouth this time and Shinsou could actually see the wide grin, showing off immaculate white teeth.

“Come in.” Shinsou tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, only being betrayed by his trembling hands.

Kaminari stepped in, slipping out of his shoes without untying them, threw his coat with his scarf and hat over the wardrobe and just walked up to the living room. Shinsou followed close by, clenching and unclenching his hands to keep them from shaking.

“Wait a sec,” Shinsou pulled his laptop and books to the side, putting them under the coffee table for now. Kaminari put down the plastic bag with various containers.

“I hope I chose right,” he chuckled as he unpacked everything.

“I think you don’t have to worry about that.” Shinsou hummed as he stared at the various containers, kind of a little bit of everything. Fried rice, fried noodles, chicken, duck, wontons, fried vegetables, to name the usual suspects.

“I just wasn’t sure, you know, what you preferred,” Kaminari sounded genuinely worried, scratching his cheek as his eyes hopped from container to container. And that’s when Shinsou noticed how Kaminari’s hands were fidgeting around, pulling at a loose thread on his shirt, his foot tapping silently on the carpet, shifting his weight from one side to the other.

“Sit down,” Shinsou motioned on the ground. “Be right back.” Coming back from the kitchen, Shinsou put down two glasses and a bottle of soda on the table, before sitting down next to Kaminari, who put down his phone as he came back.

Shinsou turned around to pull down his weighted blanket, holding it up to Kaminari. “You want some?”

“Oh!” Kaminari’s face lit up. “Is that one of those weighted ones?!” Before Shinsou could even nod, Kaminari grabbed at it and weighted it with his hands.

“This feels so strange!” He giggled. Shinsou shook his head almost fondly, taking the blanket back from Kaminari’s hands and putting it over their shoulders.

“Sorry, it’s a little small so we need to-“ – “No problem.” Kaminari interrupted him as he scooted closer, grinning from ear to ear. Shinsou swallowed. The blanket had a nice weight to it on his shoulders, grounding him a little and steading his pulse almost instantly. With a glance to the side, Shinsou saw Kaminari sitting with his eyes closed, slowly breathing through his nose.

“I really need to get one of those for myself,” he hummed, smiling up to Shinsou with his eyes only half open.

“It’s Christmas, after all,” Shinsou said lamely, looking away since Kaminari’s relaxed face did things to his heart he didn’t know was possible, “you just wish for it.”

“Mhm, from you?”

“You wish.”

“Yeah, that’s the point.”

Shinsou snorted, shaking his head once again. He just couldn’t keep up with Kaminari.

They started to eat, trying everything before settling on some things just one of them liked and sharing other stuff. It was rather silent at first until Kaminari just started to talk about some of his customers, how just absolutely horrible some people can be. And some just unbelievable stupid. At one point he talked about a job where he had to replace a smashed stove for what Shinsou shoved him in the face.

Somehow over the course of their dinner, they scooted even closer, their arms almost touching constantly and Shinsou only ever realized that when Kaminari laughed at one of his anecdotes about Midoriya (he cracked a bowl with milk and cereal already inside and slurping it as fast as possible, so it didn’t spill) and he buried his face in Shinsou’s shoulder, his whole body shaking.

He had to turn his face away, feeling the heat rising to his cheeks. When Kaminari lifted his face up again and didn’t say anything, Shinsou could practically feel his eyes on him, looking through him.

“Hey.” Kaminari’s voice was quiet in contrast to before.

“What.” Shinsou mumbled, not trusting his face to be a normal color again.

“What if I tell you,” he heard Kaminari swallow, “that your stove stopping to work wasn’t a mistake?”

Shinsou felt all his reservation leaving him with a heavy sigh. He turned back toward Kaminari who looked at him with wide eyes, an unsure smile on his lips.

“You win, Kaminari.” Shinsou watched as Kaminari’s eyes squinted at him, thinking about what he meant. So, Shinsou made it a little easier for him.

He raised both his hands to Kaminari’s face, cupping his cheeks and caressing them with his thumbs. Feeling the skin under his hands turn hot and red, and seeing Kaminari’s lips part in surprise, Shinsou was this close to just getting up and leaving his own apartment. This was taking years off of his life.

“I’m going to kiss you now. Any objections?” Shinsou half-whispered, not trusting his own voice.

Kaminari shook his head in between his hands and that was all he needed to know. Shinsou leaned in, guiding their lips together. Both their lips were greasy from the food, tasting like the last dish the other ate, and so unbelievably warm.

Kaminari let out a quiet sigh, leaning closer and Shinsou felt his hands starting to tremble again. But then Kaminari’s hands were on top of his own, squeezing them reassuringly to calm him down. And it helped. Shinsou let out his breath he didn’t realize he was holding in through his nose, holding the kiss for a couple of seconds longer before slowly breaking apart.

“I think I just short-circuited.” Kaminari mumbled, snorting at his own joke.

“You say that as if you don’t have any wires loose anyway.”

“Wow, that was bad,” he snorted again.

“But you laughed.”

“Because it was so bad!”

“Just shut up.”

“Make me.” Kaminari wiggled his eyebrows, trying to hold back a grin.

“And that wasn’t bad?”

“Shinsouuuu,” Kaminari whined mockingly, so naturally Shinsou let him suffer for a couple of seconds longer before he leaned back in again himself.

#Boku no Hero Academia #fyeahbnhasecretsanta #ShinKami #Shinsou Hitoshi #Kaminari Denki #fanfiction

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goobergamer · 4 years ago

Text

Welcome to the Real World, Chpt. 3/?

Summary: ‘The real world’ is Marine Corps slang referring to civilian life after discharge.

Or, Washington, new and struggling veteran, moves into a duplex where he has a strange and surly neighbor with a penchant for the color red. (Sargington modern war vets AU)

Pairing: Sarge/Washington (Red vs. Blue)

Warnings: No common triggers this chapter, please ask for specific tags!

First chapter on Tumblr here: (x). Also crossposted to AO3.

Dark walls the smell the smell they’re there can’t find a way back hurts blood dirt the smell can’t find them can’t find a way just them there so long forever never going to get out it’s just going to be us in the dark just going to be us forever just going to be YOU—

Wash wakes halfway sitting, noise ripping through a throat already raw, blanket damp with sweat from where it’s wrapped around his waist. As soon as he can pull in a deep enough breath that he’s sure his legs won’t just fold under him, he stumbles out to the bathroom, turning the water on cool and standing under the spray, trying to imagine the water washing the memories away, the cold freezing them out of his head.

Most nights it’s something, but it’s not always that bad.

When he can finally see black after closing his eyes, Wash steps out of the shower and pulls on some clothes, leaving his hair damp. He shambles down to the first floor, about to put on coffee when a few loud thumps ring out from the front door. If he hadn’t been trained to control his reactions, he might have jumped right out of his skin.

He stares at the door for a couple seconds before grabbing a kitchen knife, placing it on the dining table within his reach but out of view of whoever is on the other side. His rational brain tells him that he won’t need to stab anyone who comes to his new house here, particularly anyone who comes and knocks before entering. The rest of his brain really doesn’t give a shit. He leaves (to his credit, only the one) security chain in place before opening the door.

Sarge stands there with two steaming red mugs in hand. When Wash reopens the door sans chain, Sarge silently hands him one before walking to his usual seat.

Wash looks down at the mug, filled with light-colored coffee. If the gravel in his throat is any indication, Sarge probably heard him through the walls during the night. Wash feels both very awkward at the thought, and very touched at the quiet gesture in response. He takes a sip; Sarge added cream and sugar where Wash usually drinks his black, but the sweetness is a welcome change.

When he joins Sarge on the porch, Wash says, “thanks for the coffee,” unsure if he should add anything else, but Sarge seems all too ready to wave him off, much to his relief. “No need.”

They soak in the sun in comfortable silence today, and by the time he reaches the dregs in his mug, Wash has lost the tang in his lungs that the dream left behind.

---

He must have my schedule figured out, Wash muses, when knocks again sound at his door as he steps out of the shower a little over a week later. He throws on a T-shirt and jeans before padding down the stairs as the knocking grows more insistent.

He pulls open the door to see Sarge with something in his hands once again...though this time it’s a shampoo bottle and red towel. “Um, good morning?”

“Morning, Washington,” Sarge grumbles, clearly not thinking it’s a very good one. “Power’s out in my half. I can fix it, but not before a shower. I see yours is on, proving my suspicions that mine has gone out with the sole purpose of spiting me.”

Wash runs a hand through his damp hair and wonders if it’s worth asking why he needs a shower first, where he had gotten training as an electrician (if he has any at all), why Sarge just came over assuming Wash’s worked before seeing him, why Wash’s being on proved the...spite theory? Before promptly deciding against all of it. Though they’ve started conversing more when they meet in the mornings, Sarge frequently makes it a challenging battle of words and often illogical wits over the smallest topics. Too little coffee in Wash’s bloodstream for that just yet, and it isn’t like anyone else needs the shower now. He unlocks the chain before stepping aside, waving Sarge in.

Sarge glances around as Wash guides him through the kitchen and into the living room, taking it in. Not that there’s much to see. The furniture he’s built drowns in the open space, and there aren’t enough boxes waiting to be opened to fill what’s left. Wash isn’t bothered by the bareness, but it is easier to notice with a second person’s perspective there. To his credit, Sarge doesn’t comment.

“Bathroom’s upstairs on the right,” Wash says, gesturing toward the stairs. He figures Sarge can find his own way there and back; he isn’t sure if Sarge is the type to poke through the other rooms, but it isn’t like there’s much for him to find there either.

After Sarge heads up to the bathroom, Wash walks back to the kitchen to put on two servings of coffee, figuring that he can return the favor of the other week and give Sarge his morning fix. As it drains into the pot, he wonders if he should just leave a second mug out and head to the porch with his cup. Waiting would be courteous, right? ...I don’t know that there are specific courtesies for this. He finally just lets it be, sitting at the table while he waits. Sarge has been slowly flipping Wash’s routine on its head; may as well go all the way.

“You know, Washington, I’ll give you points for creativity! Most people with loose cabinet doors tape them shut.” It takes Wash a moment of blank staring as Sarge enters the room, towel hung around his shoulders, before he realizes what Sarge is talking about; the medicine cabinet over the sink left wide, a strip of duct tape securing it to the wall.

Wash thinks about the last time he willingly looked in a mirror, at the military clinic before he shipped back home for care. You and me, he had remembered. A constant recurrence, but that time something was different, something wrong. His image, distorting, still him but not really him, both of them but that wasn’t possible because it was just him now because he was alone and—

He shakes his head a little to dispel that memory before it can become another black pit, swallowing his attention away for hours on end. “I...don’t like mirrors.”

Sarge just stares at him a moment before huffing, turning to pull back the seat across from Wash. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, ya look fine.”

Wash...doesn’t really have an answer for that. It’s...flattering? As much as at misses his point by a mile. “I...Thanks. Sarge.”

“‘Course!” He pours table sugar into his coffee, and slowly, their usual conversation picks up, full of blustering and bluffs (“I picked up electrical work doing robotics!” “Somehow I doubt that.”) and a fair bit of humor. By the time Sarge sees himself out, Wash really is starting to consider it a good day.

#thank you to everyone who waited for this #rvb #red vs blue #wttrw #welcome to the real world

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bluepenguinstories · 4 years ago

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Remoras Full Chapter XXVI: Coleslaw is Good, Actually

My eyes feel like shit.

...My head also feels like shit. How much sleep did I get? Two hours? Three, if I’m lucky. In a few minutes, I’ll get a call. It seems to happen every time I’m home, without fail. I might only get a couple hours. Three, at most. Then, bzzt! There it goes.

I turned to my left side, where my husband was fast asleep. No phone call. No pager duty. Thank goodness.

Maybe it’s just one of those lucky days where I can actually get some sleep, I thought. Still, it wasn’t very likely to happen. I checked my phone. It was almost 8 AM. My husband, Cole, tended to sleep in. We both worked long hours at our respective jobs; mine, a doctor. Him, an electrician. I didn’t understand a bit of what went into that, but he never really discussed his job with me.

It must have been lonely, though. Going into people’s homes, fixing up lines. Something like that. Meanwhile, I had plenty of people to interact with. Had to put on smiles for them all. Many of them were dying of one disease or another, or getting surgery. It was kind of a gloomy position, but I was far from alone. In a way, our jobs might have been the same. We both kind of helped people. Without electricity, certain things wouldn’t work, like lights. Without doctors, some people couldn’t get better and their health would take a toll. But even then, I couldn’t save everyone.

That kind of line of thinking is terrible, though. For every life that we can’t save, there are at least a few that are. Even if the ratio was reversed, the lives that are saved make a huge difference. Seeing their smiling faces, going back home, or on the road to recovery, it was the whole reason why I do what I do...but then, the bloody messes, the ailments that get worse until their lives are lost. The ones who don’t recover, the grief and images stay with you and can’t be scrubbed out. Yet I’m required to smile and try to cheer everyone up regardless.

“When was the last time I smiled for you?” I leaned over, my face hovered over his, and mumbled. He didn’t answer. Of course not. The man was a heavy sleeper. What a blessing that I didn’t have to worry about whether or not he was getting enough sleep. What a curse that the few precious moments I have to see him, he’s often already asleep.

I poked his tit. Yes, that was the medical term for it. Or maybe it wasn’t. My brain went to weird places when I didn’t get much sleep.

“Hey hun. We should do something if we ever get a day off together. Maybe a nice dinner. Or we could go see the northern lights together. Wouldn’t that be romantic? We could stay at home, curl up with some popcorn, marathon Danny DeVito movies.”

He smiled, then stirred awake.

“All of that sounds good,” he muttered, his voice a very sour groggy sound. Like he just got done eating a bag of gravel. It was sexy in a way, though. I did hope that he was drinking enough water. Even in a cold place like this, it was important to stay hydrated.

His face was plain. His arms were beefy. Hairy, even. He had no shirt on, but a pair of jeans. His titties just poked out without a care in the world. Yes, as a doctor, I was qualified to say all that.

Why did I fall in love with him again? I forgot. That wasn’t such a bad thought. It was just how all of my energy was spent at work, caring for people I didn’t know, that my memory of him has long since slipped.

I recalled a time when I first informed Ray that I was now married.

“Who’s the lucky person?” He asked me.

“His name is Cole Slaw,” I told him.

“How did he propose?” Ray then asked. That I had to think over.

“He was like ‘will you marry me?’ And I shrugged and said, ‘sure’.”

“That’s it?! You do like him, right?!” That left him flabbergasted. I wasn’t sure why. Thinking about it, flabbergasted itself was a funny word.

“Yeah, probably,” I also shrugged.

Still, I knew I liked Cole for something. I just couldn’t remember what.

I could have written it down somewhere, just in case, I thought, but I also thought better of it. For me, it was enough to know that I did, regardless of circumstances.

Now, he sat at the edge of the bed. Time must have passed while I was lost in those thoughts. I was laying down.

“Let’s just stay in bed. I don’t have work today,” I poked Cole’s bare back. His well defined shoulder blades, to be more precise.

He turned to me, while slipping on a shirt. What a bummer. Still, his smile made it just a little more worth it.

“Sure, why not? Neither do I.”

Then my phone rang.

I checked it, but it was from a number I didn’t recognize.

It must not be work, then. It’s also not Ray. Maybe it’s better if I don’t answer that.

“Aren’t you going to answer that, hun?” He asked with a yawn while he rubbed his eyes.

Careful. If you didn’t wash your hands, you could get bacteria in your eyes. If you rub too hard, your eyes can get all irritated, were things I thought to say, but didn’t. Instead, I looked over.

“It’s not the hospital. I’d rather spend time with you,” despite my pleas, I sounded disinterested. My voice always seemed to betray me. The tired, low energy that I exerted. To combat it, I flitted my eyelashes.

The phone continued to ring. Its vibrations shook the bed. I continued to ignore it and stared at him.

“You should really answer that,” he pointed.

I sighed. Yes, any responsible doctor would, I imagine.

I picked up the phone and held it against my ear. As I did, I was greeted by the distraught voice of a young woman, her pitch on the higher end of the vocal spectrum, but still a bit of a roughness thrown in.

“Hello?” She asked.

“Hi,” my groggy, tired voice replied. Rather similar inflection that Cole had, as well, but I felt like if I had just a little more energy, I could have given a better tonal greeting.

“You’re a doctor, right?” She sounded unsure, as if she might have had the wrong number.

“Mm. That’s what they call me.” Except Ray, damn him. He still referred to me by name, as if he had little regard for all the hard work and accomplishments I made.

Actually, I think that’s just because we’re friends. He’s even gotten better at calling me Dr. Cole-Slaw. I guess I should cut him some slack.

“Good. Look. I’ve got someone who could really use a doctor. She hasn’t been feeling well in a few days and I’ve been doing my best, but she hasn’t been getting any better. I feel like shit, because I know I don’t know shit about medical shit, but I hate to see her like this. Could you please come over?” Her voice was frantic. Rushed, even. On one hand, she said please, but on the other hand, did she have to say “shit” that many times.

I sighed. Or yawned. Shook my head, as well. Just my luck, wasn’t it?

“Are you at the hospital right now?” I asked. Now I was the one who sat up, against the edge of the bed as well. It must have been instinct that I was already ready to go.

“No, but that shouldn’t matter, right?! She’s sick and you’re a doctor!” Worry now. Just about yelled into her phone. Not a good look. It was a pity, then, that I had to be the bearer of bad news.

“I don’t do home visits. I’m sorry. If you can make it to the hospital, I can treat this person there, otherwise –”

“Ray told me you were dependable!” She cut me off. How rude. Not the cutting off part, I could imagine how stressed she was. But that Ray would tell this person such a poisonous thought. Oh well, if anything, that just made things more interesting. In fact, a smile crept along my face.

“Ray and I have a special relationship,” I explained, then held the phone away and covered the speakers with my hand and turned to Cole. “Hope you don’t mind me saying that, hun.”

“Not at all!” He also smiled and waved his hand away.

I then put the phone back against my ear.

“You know Ray, huh?” I egged her on.

“Yes,” she replied. “I’m at his diner right now! So you should know where to go! Just come over!” She sounded on the verge of tears.

I shrugged my shoulders and had to stifle back a laugh. Loathe as I was to admit, but I felt like a sadist. Like I was the one holding all of the cards in this situation.

“I’m sorry, but even if I were to come over, I wouldn’t be able to treat this person without their consent. Doctors require the consent of the patient to treat them.”

“Ah, I understand,” her voice darkened. Almost drained of emotion, like how mine was. It was a little unnerving. Next, came the unexpected: she yelled.

“Hey Remora! Will you let this doctor take care of you?!”

“NO! NO DOCTORS!” In the background, a hoarse and wheezing voice yelled right back. It wasn’t all that loud, but it sounded like she used up a lot of energy just to muster it.

So that’s the sick one in question, huh? Could be laryngitis.

“Sorry, but she said no, so it’s out of my control,” I shook my head.

I then heard the phone be thrown onto the floor with a thud. No cracking sound. She must have had a durable phone, at the very least. Then came another slam, this time, it was her fist against the wall. Something I shouldn’t have been able to hear.

It probably got put on speaker by accident. I should probably hang up, but I feel it would be rude to do so without saying goodbye, even if I feel like this isn’t getting anywhere.

“Why...why is it always like this? I try to help, but I can’t help anyone. I’m so useless. I can’t cook, I stumble with my words, and I barely understand myself, let alone others. I want to help, but there’s nothing I can do!” She ranted on.

“By the way,” I pointed out. “You’re on speaker.”

No response. Maybe it really was useless. It wasn’t a total lie to say that I needed permission. As disappointed as she would probably be, I didn’t see any other way around it.

“Sorry, but I’m going to have to go now –”

“Just. Wait. Stay on the line,” she seethed. She was still a few feet away from her phone but I heard it well enough.

Her footsteps then. She must have been in the same room as the would-be patient.

“Why don’t you want to see a doctor?” She asked. As quiet and calm as her voice was, I doubt it really was. If I had to guess, she was just determined.

“I hate them. They scare me,” replied the weary voice.

I wonder if I should take offense. I don’t. I’ve heard such things before. People being afraid of dentists. Surgeons. Needles. Scalpels. Can’t say I blame her.

“Why do they scare you? You’re the toughest person I know. If anything, you should scare them.”

...The fuck? I thought. What does being tough have to do with seeing a doctor? The nerve.

Still, props for one thing: whether fake or not (I couldn’t gauge one way or the other), her voice turned gentle, patient, even. There was still a roughness there, but her attempt at being calm was commendable.

“It’s because they give false hope. They say they can cure you if you just give them money, and then they don’t. Worst yet is that I’ve believed them. It’s fine if it helps others, but I want nothing to do with them.”

For someone with such a weak voice, all of that came out clear. Maybe I just had really clean ears. I think that was a good quality to have. Everyone should keep their ears clean.

“Is this related to your other condition?”

“Yes. It’s unbearable sometimes, and I’ve been desperate in the past to get rid of it. I know it’s not normal and most people don’t experience things that way, but despite everything, it persists.”

Huh. Interesting. Don’t know what kind of doctors told her such things, but that didn’t sound right.

“Well, I can’t promise that this doctor can help with that, either. But you’ve got another condition right now that could be treatable. And if she comes and promises you something she can’t keep, then I’ll beat her up for you. You can count on that.”

Who the hell does she think she is? Beating up a doctor?

There was a few seconds of pause. Time which could have been spent laying back down, if I had such a luxury.

“Okay. I’ll do it,” came the reply of the hoarse voice at last.

Footsteps again. Phone picked up. Muffled sounds of static, then:

“She consents,” returned the roughness.

“So I heard,” my smile remained. It was less mean-spirited now. More genuine. “Good job. You must really care about her.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you two friends?” I asked, ever so curious.

“No.”

“Lovers?”

“Nothing like that.”

Huh. It seemed like they were close in some way.

“Siblings or relatives?”

“Not at all.”

“Then what is your relation?”

“I don’t know. I just really care about her. That’s all.”

Such a simple reply. I suppose it was better than nothing. Things didn’t always need to be so well defined, anyway, did they?

“So? Will you come over?” She pressed the issue. Right. It seemed like everything was in the clear. Almost.

“I don’t know…” My voice trailed. That famous “unsure” phrase when you really wanted to say no, but weren’t confident about doing so. In my case, I felt a little playful about it, though. It probably didn’t come out playful. Probably came out more morose, if anything.

“Oh, come on, hun. Quit teasing them!” Cole scolded.

I covered the phone.

“But I wanted to spend time with you,” I whined. Again, probably didn’t sound like a whine. Probably sounded like I was bored.

By all accounts, everything was in the clear. Well, almost…

“Look,” I gave my reply at last. “I don’t work for free.”

“I get it. I’m willing to pay whatever it takes. Name your price.”

How bold. Just how rich was she?

“I don’t need your money,” I answered her.

“Then what? Like I said, I’m willing to do anything.”

Ray’s influence must have rubbed off on me. Maybe just a little. For I knew just what I wanted.

“A favor. I am doing you a favor by going there. So you will owe me a favor in return.”

“What’s the favor?” She asked, a noticeable gulp emitted from her.

“I will tell you when the time is right,” I gave my cryptic answer. In truth, I had no idea what I would ask of her, at all, but it felt exciting to know that somebody owed me something in the future.

I buttoned up my blouse. There was a spare pair of scrubs and a mask in the Hospital Mobile (my truck which holds many medical supplies and equipment).

“Sorry, hun, but I’m leaving you,” I joked to Cole in my (unfortunate) tired monotone. He didn’t give an answer. Not so much as a chuckle. “I’m going to be seeing someone else.”

Again, no answer. I looked behind me. He was once again fast asleep.

“I’ll be back later tonight,” I whispered to him as I got up. Hopefully that was a promise I could keep.

On the way there, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all too familiar. That I’ve done such a thing before. That’s when I remembered that almost a couple years ago, I went over there to check up on some kid. Apparently this woman found her and got all panicky. Ray called me up, filled in the details, and I accepted. All because I owed him a favor. Now I’d be going to that place again, all because someone was going to owe me a favor.

And thus the cycle repeats.

What was that favor, though?

I thought hard about it. My memory was often too fuzzy to remember precious moments outside of work. It was a shame, but what could I do?

Then it hit me: the favor was work related. Of course it was.

It was a horrible experience. Blood bags had gone missing. The staff were having trouble doing transfusions and some of the patients had reported strange shadows in the middle of the night. Rumors started circulating about there being vampires. I didn’t buy into such things, but that didn’t matter when the serious reality was that medical supplies were being stolen.

Ray was an old friend of mine. Acquaintance, more like. We met...I don’t remember where or how. Maybe we both went to the same school at one point. Couldn’t tell which, though, if any. Maybe we just met at a bar. That wasn’t likely, but it was just as likely as the school thing, considering my poor memory. Whatever it was, he had told me a few years back about his side job as someone who investigates rumors. It was a stretch, but I was desperate.

Similar to that girl on the phone, I too was willing to pay whatever price he asked for. Those patients were much more important than any money or possession I may have had.

“You don’t need to pay me anything, Shirley. We’re friends, aren’t we?” Despite his warm and soft voice, he had that sly smile about him like he already knew what he wanted. “Just consider this a favor.”

“Oh, thank you,” I was relieved. I must have been in tears, and I was so wide-eyed, too.

“But, if this is a favor, then a favor is what you will owe. Favor for a favor,” he waved his finger. Of course. I should have known. His nature was already familiar with me, and he loved to strike up deals.

“Very well,” I told him. “Do you have anything in mind?”

“How about this? If I find out what’s been behind this and return those blood bags back to you, then the next time I need medical care, you will be there. No matter where I am. Can you do that?”

I couldn’t tell who was getting the better deal, but I agreed. As the days passed, the worries grew. Those who needed blood couldn’t receive them, as we were still short supply. But then, on the third day, he returned, with many bags in a box of ice.

“Hope these will still be good,” he motioned to the box. I was so relieved, but I couldn’t help but wonder what the truth behind the matter was.

“So, was it vampires?” I asked.

“Unfortunately, no,” he sounded disappointed as he shook his head. “It would have been fun if they were, then I could have been a vampire hunter. In the end, though, they were just some cult of weird guys who thought they were vampires, but weren’t really.”

“Despite the answer being mundane, there’s something still awful about that, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, but I was hoping for something more exciting.”

As detached as that sounded, and as much as I must have been appalled at that at the time, now I found the sentiment resonated with me. Sure, there were “exciting” things at the hospital, like heart attacks and sudden worsening conditions, but after a while, it was hard to even react. It just becomes sad. Even if it was something dramatic, or brought on by misfortune, I would rather experience something like out of an action-adventure movie. Maybe dinosaurs or bandits. Something where I could feel triumphant. Not that there weren’t triumphs. Lives that were saved, patients who got to go back home to their families. But...I wasn’t sure. Maybe I just wanted to feel something that wasn’t work related.

It didn’t take long for me to arrive. I got out into the brisk air. Something else I was used to, as well. Why did I ever choose to live in such a harsh and gloomy environment? If I searched for the answer, I might have come up with something like, “because despite how hard things can be, there is still beauty to be found here.”

Would that have been the truth? I wondered that as I got into the scrubs and reached into the back of the truck for my briefcase. In it were various medical supplies which I might not even need, but it still seemed useful to bring.

After all that was settled, I ventured in.

Inside wasn’t anything special. An empty that was too clean for its own good. It was a shame, considering I knew how passionate Ray could be about cooking. Not only that, but with the cleanliness, if others were to walk in they would be wowed by presentation alone. That was my opinion, as a doctor, anyway.

My first encounter with another living soul was a child who ran from the back door and up to me. She had orange and red streaked hair which resembled a red panda. Or a tiger. Though red pandas were easier to envision.

“Oh whoa! It’s you!” She remarked. As if she recognized me. Which meant that I might have seen her before. Then it clicked. Of course. That was the same child that the strange woman found. It turned out that although she would have died if left out longer in the snow, she still didn’t suffer any long term ailments. Still, I had the one who recovered her watch over her as she rested and to observe her condition. Later on, the child went in for a check up. Despite not knowing her legal name or anything like that, I still made sure she was in good health. Names weren’t really all that important, anyway. But I remembered it was something weird…

“Pandatiger?” I snapped my fingers. That was probably right. Probably.

“No! Tigershark!” She roared.

“Oh, forgive me, Tigershark,” I tried to work up a smile, but I just wasn’t in the right environment. “Have you been keeping healthy?”

She grinned. Teeth whiter than any kid had the right to have.

“Yup!”

“Good,” I worked up something like a smile. I don’t know what effect it had, if any. I then made my way to the back, where I was sure the real victim, er, patient was.

Once past the door, I was greeted by another: a frantic young woman, not much taller than the child, with wavy, green hair, and who paced about the hallway. As soon as she noticed me, she looked both relieved and even more worried than before.

“Oh thank goodness. You’re here. Hurry. I’ll show you to her room,” she carried with her a seriousness, a glum expression on her face.

Was it that bad?

I followed her to the first room on the left. Sunny and Ray were noticeably absent. Maybe in their room, or in the kitchen. Their whereabouts weren’t of any importance, I suppose, but I was hoping to at least see one of them.

When I opened the door, I saw her huddled with many blankets and sitting against the corner of the wall, working up a sweat and her face red. She coughed a low, but continual cough. Then, our eyes met. Although her voice sounded about gone, she still tried to screech.

“You! Out of all the doctors, that’s the scariest! How could you, Demetria?” She wailed, and some of the syllables were missing, so I had to fill in the blanks. Of course, all of that just amused me. I let out a chuckle.

“We meet again, don’t we? First, it was because you wanted to save the life of that Tiger girl, then it was because you brought Ray to my hospital. Now the roles are reversed.”

Back when I saw her those other two times, she had red hair. Now it was black. Which suited her, I just wasn’t used to it. Something told me she could pull off just about any color, though black was likely the most natural.

“Sorry, she’s afraid of doctors,” the green-haired girl apologized. That I already knew.

“She has a good reason to be. What with all of those foreign objects going inside people while they’re often asleep, hopped up on anesthesia.”

“I want a different doctor!”

I slapped on some gloves, then let out another chuckle.

“Looks like you’re completely at my mercy,” I couldn’t help myself. Yes, it was awful.

“Can you please not antagonize her? She’s already got it rough as it is,” Greenie (there had to be some kind of nickname) scolded me.

“Of course. How insensitive of me,” I replied, with my usual dull voice of apathy. I wish it expressed how truly sorry I was.

I walked over to the one shivering, possibly out of fear.

“I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to do,” I tried to be more comforting.

“I want you to go to hell,” my unruly patient rasped. Then she stuck out her tongue.

I looked over at Greenie.

“What is she doing?” I asked.

“Trying to push you away,” Greenie answered.

“Is she usually like this?”

“It depends.”

I see. Well, couldn’t say I wasn’t used to it. Patients with bad attitudes. It didn’t really matter what their attitudes were. They still needed help and they were still patients.

“I’ve been naughty, doc,” that black haired woman looked up and smiled a sly smile while her eyebrows were raised. She bobbed her head, as if she were to pass out at any moment. Speaking of moments, I allowed one to pass before I continued. She continued to stare up with what she probably thought was a suggestive expression.

“Okay, so anyway, I’m going to have to ask you a few questions. First off, do you smoke?”

Her eyebrows lowered and she turned her head to one side, but before she was able to shake it to signify “no”, she clutched her head and went, “ow.”

“Headaches, huh? Fever, chills, short breath –”

“The chills are nothing new,” she corrected me.

“I wasn’t done. Also, you’ve been coughing and your voice sounds like it’s run dry. Tell me, is it hard to talk?”

“That’s not the only hard thing about me,” she moaned. It wasn’t seductive at all. For added measure, she once again went, “ow,” at the end.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Although you’re still trying to do so anyway, which...don’t do that.”

“Usually she’s a terse talker,” Greenie informed me.

“I see,” I nodded. “I think I’m starting to form an idea of what it could be, but I’ll have to do a few more things to confirm.”

First, I set my briefcase on the floor and pulled out a stethoscope from it. I was going to listen to her lungs in order to see if there were any abnormalities in their sounds. Before I could press the end up to her, though, she groaned. Then snapped.

“Don’t put that cold, metal thing on me. It’s bad enough everything else is cold.”

“It’s just for a few seconds. Can you handle that?”

She growled. But I took it as a yes anyway. I pressed the end against her chest, where her lungs were located, and listened in.

“Don’t get too cocky and start feeling me up with that,” she groaned and swayed.

“My husband’s titties are better than yours,” I replied. That shut her right up.

Once I managed to focus, I heard it: little rumbling sounds. That seemed to confirm my suspicion, but it wasn’t enough. There were other things I had yet to know.

“We can either do a blood test next or an X-Ray. Which would you prefer?”

“No needles.”

“OK. X-Ray it is.”

“Does that mean no more Ray?” She asked, and I assumed she must have been trying to crack a joke.

“Reply hazy. Try again.”

Also from my briefcase was a pocket X-Ray. I pulled it out.

“By the way, can I get your name? If you’re having trouble talking, don’t worry about it,” I tried to make conversation.

“Rhea,” she stated, though in a wheeze.

“You don’t have to lie to her, Remora!” Greenie jumped in.

“I know. That’s why I’m not,” Rhea, or Remora replied.

“Are you by any chance related to Danny DeVito?” I asked, offhand, as I thought about how she shared the same name as Danny DeVito’s wife. I was kind of jealous, actually.

“What?” Greenie spat. Not literally, else I would be mad, but, y’know.

“Oh, you know. Just one of the greatest actors of all time. If not the greatest. Everyone always says that Matilda was the best part of Matilda, but Danny DeVito made that movie what it is. He makes everything he stars in good just by virtue of being in it.”

“Uhh…” Both of them uttered.

“Anyway,” I held the pocket X-Ray up to Rhea, or Remora’s chest. How a pocket X-Ray worked was beyond me. I was a doctor, not an engineer.

As I glanced down at those chest bones, I saw where her lungs were and noticed some substances built up. I nodded, then closed up the pocket X-Ray and put it back into the briefcase.

“Tell me, when did you first notice these symptoms?” I inquired.

“About a week ago. Couple days before Demetria’s birthday,” she answered. Good. So she could behave when she wanted to.

“Who’s Demetria?” I put my hand up to chin and shook my head. More questions arose than answers. Not good.

“It me!” Greenie, once again jumped in. Or Demetria, I guess.

“Oh. Here I’ve been calling you Greenie in my head this whole time,” I remarked.

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I can do whatever I want in my head,” I stated with conviction.

“Never mind that, what do you mean, a couple days before my birthday?!” Demetria (sigh, I really liked Greenie more) gasped.

“It was while I was out to earn money. I felt a little bit off. I ignored it and figured it would go away on its own,” Remora/Rhea explained.

“Tsk. Just like Ray with his infection. Why do you guys neglect your bodies?”

“What does it matter to you?” Remora/Rhea retorted.

“Because human lives are precious,” I replied without hesitation.

“Do you really believe that?”

“I have to. Otherwise this world would be far more bleak.”

“I wish I believed that as well.”

“What about the needle? The poison?” Demetria pressed the issue. That was also concerning. None of that got mentioned before.

“It only affected you,” Remora muttered.

“Even so, I think I should run some tests on you as well,” I turned to Demetria.

“That’s not necessary! It just made me pass out! Besides, it was just skin contact, it didn’t puncture me.”

“Still, if you were to pass it to her through contact, that could mean that she was affected by it as well.”

Demetria looked down, hands balled into fists.

“I didn’t consider that...I’m sorry…”

“Anyway, she’ll probably live. Probably,” I tried to reassure Demetria. Maybe Remora/Rhea too. Since I couldn’t guarantee anything.

“Probably?!” Demetria sounded about ready to snap.

“Yes. She has pneumonia. It can potentially be fatal, but in her case, it seems pretty mild. There’s some bacterial build up in her lungs, so I’ll prescribe some antibiotics. Make sure she gets plenty of rest and water. It may take up to a month before she recovers, and even then she might be a little out of it.”

It seemed like my work was done. Nothing more to say, then.

“Before you go, can you check one more thing for me?” Demetria asked.

“What?”

“She’s got this condition where she always feels like she’s cold,” Demetria began to explain.

“Huh. Has she thought about moving someplace warmer?”

“No. That’s not it. She’ll crank the heater way up and while everyone else is burning to death, she’ll still be cold. Even in warmer climates, she’ll still be shivering. It gets worse in social situations, but it’s there all the time. I was wondering if you could identify the cause of it, if nothing else.”

“Hmm…” I pondered. It didn’t take long, however, for me to come up with an answer. “It could be a number of things. However, it’s not something I could check out very well right now, as one of the side effects of pneumonia is that it gives people those shivery feelings. Maybe when she’s better, I could check for various things, if she let me.”

“Would you, Remora?” Demetria asked. Her...something (since I guess wasn’t a friend. While I said earlier that such titles weren’t important, I now found it hard what to use to describe their relationship) groaned but didn’t quite answer. Maybe it was getting to be even more painful to speak.

“It could also be psychological,” I pointed out. “If so, I know a pretty good therapist. I can give you his business card, if you’d like.”

“Am I some kind of joke to you?” Remora’s weary voice returned to retort. “I’m a paragon of mental health.”

“There’s no shame in seeking therapy,” I pointed out to her. Maybe she was of the belief that such things were beneath her. “I’ve seen one a few times.” I could probably use seeing one again.

“Yes, I agree. But I don’t need one. Watch this,” she stared at me, and I stared back, waiting for something to happen. Then she fell back to her side and went to sleep.

“Well then, I suppose that about covers it,” I left the room and Demetria followed behind. I was about halfway down the hall when she ran after me.

“What about the antibiotics?” She stopped and asked in a huff.

“I’m going to get some from my truck right now. Also, if you have any pain relieving medication, I would advise she take that for her headaches, as well. I would also suggest you be present in the room with her when she takes her pills. Something tells me she won’t take them otherwise.”

“I’ll try to remember all that.”

“Oh, and if her other condition is psychological, then there may not be a ‘cure’ and she will instead need to find a way to manage it. I wouldn’t want to give her false hope, either, so rest assured of that.”

“Thank you again,” her voice grew quiet.

I shrugged. “Just try to get her to the hospital next time.”

After that was all settled and I gave Demetria the pills, I headed home. It felt nice to help someone outside of the hospital, even if it still meant I had to leave home to take care of someone else. For a little bit, it even seemed like I felt something, though it seemed to come in dribs and drabs and I couldn’t pinpoint which moments those were. With any luck, I could still spend some time with Cole, if he didn’t leave for work, himself. Or if I wasn’t needed back at the hospital. Like I said, with any luck.

#remoras full #writing #stories #chapter #fiction #doctor #coleslaw #cw: needles #medical stuff #pneumonia #danny devito

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jesse-mills · 5 years ago

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Convenience Store AU

Quick summary: Jesse dies on the beach and wakes up in a convenience store back near Crestwood. A dimension in which Jesse has sick new tattoos, the OA looks like an actual goddamn angel, French is a nerd ass loser who's been pining for Jesse for like 2 years, and everyone gets to be happy.

[[MORE]]

(apologies for awful formatting, this was so fucking long that I got tired of trying to make it read perfectly.)

ok so after Jesse dies it's just. dark for a long ass time right? but he wakes up to blinding light and it takes a moment for his eyes to focus. his first thought is "is heaven a 7/11?" and his second thought is "OH SHIT OA?!?!?" She found him passed out in the middle of the store aisle when she came in from the back room and after a very confused minute of conversation they realize that oh shit, it's the real OG them from the Crestwood dimension. so OA basically hires Jesse on the spot and Jesse has to help her get Hap (the manager, he's suppressed in this body but still a jackass of monumental proportions) kicked out and sent somewhere else. They do succeed after a few weeks (aka they get everyone to file complaints about him until he's relocated to somewhere out of state).

Jesse, however, has a Hell Of A Lot of new things to adjust to, the first of which being that What The Fuck, he looked in the mirror and he has fucking moving tattoos that Definitely weren't there before!! Turns out this dimension has such a thin membrane between it and the invisible river of the Between, weird ass shit tends to happen around people who have travelled through worlds. Jesse soon finds out that he isn't the only one with weird shit happening to him: the angels from the lab, especially OA, have some definite traditional angelic characteristics. OA has a ton of extra eyes on her face and neck and like. everywhere so she tends to wear gauzy scarves around her neck and ling sleeves everywhere. nothing can really be done about the ones on her face but she doesn't really show her face anywhere anyways so it's not that big a deal for her. Homer works at a patisserie in town and has extra eyes on his arms and back, as well as extra mouths on his hands (he wears gloves during work, don't ask). Rachel works there with him (and yes they're all in a thruple because. Oachel rights yo) and has extra vocal chords as well so her singing sounds absolutely ethereal. (She convinced Homer to hire Buck and Angie to work with him there after the OA told them about them.) Scott doesn't have too many extra weird eyes but his hair grows flowers and though he acts pissy about it he secretly really likes them. He works as the town's electrician and Steve apprentices under him. Renata tours around and always brings them back gifts from places she visits, and has both extra eyes on her arms that become part of her signature style (she claims it's prosthetics for the press) and a second mouth beneath her collarbone hidden under scarves so she can harmonize with herself.

BBA already works at the school and so knows them all already, and she shops at the convenience store for snacks at night during Jesse's shift and so is already close to him. She slowly puts the puzzle together herself, but in a very peaceful, calm manner; basically, she notices that he's acting different but doesn't throw a fuss about it ("I think Jesse's a different Jesse now. Hm. I'll ask if he still likes shortbread next time I go."). Lucky for Jesse, BBA and the angels all kind of adopt him.

Why do they keep working at the store after Hap leaves? a) it pays bills and like. they need to eat. and b) it's something to do, it's a normal part of a normal life that lets them spend time with each other and feel like they can finally live happy lives. Plus, Jesse and OA both desperately want to contact their home dimension and tell the others that they're okay, so the store provides a good space to do that.

and then French walks in the door one night because Olive Garden fired him and he needs to support his brothers and mom, and Jesse's world suddenly becomes a Hell of a lot more convoluted. French is confused when the pretty boy from school he was always too nervous to talk to looks up from the front counter and chokes on his drink; he's even more confused when Jesse stays bright red through their entire awkward conversation of "I need a job, are you hiring?" "UH. we are now. let me go grab the paperwork" (read: gay hyperventilating behind the backroom door for the minutes before grabbing the papers.) French is very concerned when as soon as he signs his name the paper just. crumbles to ash without any warning but Jesse just sweeps it into the bin and says "yeah you're hired, UHHH what hours???? work for you????? actually just come in when it does work and we'll get you started okay goodbye!!!" Of course night shift works best for French so Jesse has a mini conniption when French walks in the next night an hour after Jesse gets there and asks if he can start working Now.

French is a fucking NERD ASS LOSER in this dimension. so he's very confused when after a week of training almost nightly (hey, he needs to provide, yo) Steve, his old bully, walks in and greets him very nicely and apologizes for anything he did in high school (he does not notice Jesse glaring at Steve. he is also not aware of Jesse calling Steve the first night he came in and incoherently rambling for twenty minutes straight before yelling "I'M GAY" and hanging up. Steve was confused because didn't Jesse come out in like 10th grade to him??? he didn't bully French for being gay he bullied him for being a nerd ass loser).

French also begins to notice that things are fucking weird in this convenience store, and by that I mean he walks in one night and Jesse is calmly reading a comic book while one of the freezers is literally emitting fucking fire. ("Jesse. Tell me you fucking realize that THE FREEZER IS ON FIRE." "Yeah, OA said to just leave it. Scott's gonna fix it later" "But. But it's on FIRE." "Yeah lol apparently she's been workin on portals without dying and opened a hell dimenson? haha wack right. Just keep the door closed and it'll be fine.") He ends up calling Steve (who is being almost suspiciously friendly now under threat of bodily harm, and who is genuinely trying to be a better person) to ask if this is normal after Jesse tells very seriously after setting up "wet floor signs" that he should stay away from the soda fountain, OA accidentally fucked with it and it's biting people. (French, talking to Steve over the phone: "Yeah dude and then it just fucking crumbled to ash and he said I was hired. Like what the fuck. What the fuck." "Oh yeah lol apparently her husband's shop does the same thing. Btw tell Jesse to stop hoarding snakes in the cupboards behind the desk bc I'm the one Scott sends to fix that shit." "...........SNAKES?!"

Jesse has a weird thing with snakes in this dimension since he 1) found a weird tattoo of a snake with wings that just roams around his body as it pleases and acts like a pet (yes he named it Ramen Noodle. no he does not have shame.) and 2) realized that he can basically charm snakes just by talking to them. Friend shaped noodles. French walks in one night to find Steve trying to convince Jesse to "take them out of the cupboards" and after French cautiously asks what's in the cupboards Jesse just opens it to reveal like 30 snakes that he rescued from the cold (French yells and almost falls on his ass. Steve just sighs as Jesse picks up a ton of them and lets them curl up around his arms). OA does bi-monthly snake banishing (read: making Jesse go to different animal shelters to give the snakes away during winter or releasing them into the wild in warmer weather). (For his birthday about three months in she and Homer and Rachel find him an albino boa constrictor and Jesse genuinely looks like he's about to pass out from joy. He names it Theo, and for some reason, BBA tears up when he tells her and gingerly pets the snake.)

And the thing is, French is such a skeptic that he just can't bring himself to take Jesse seriously when one night about a month in he locks the glass doors and sits down to tell French very seriously that he's not the original Jesse from this dimension. Jesse realizes that French won't very easily be convinced, so he just does his best to flippantly include it in conversation in the hopes that it will slowly convince him. Even after French notices the moving tattoos (he was staring at Jesse's stomach when he stretched one night and almost yelled when a weird, almost tentacle looking tattoo idly moved across his skin) he can't bring himself to believe it, even when he realizes Jesse's eyes are a odd, almost shifting blue as opposed to the warm brown he searched for in the halls every day of senior year, even when there's fire and weird portals and a manager who has even more eyes than her husband (Homer comes in often with baked goods for Jesse and French. the first time French saw what he thought was a prosthetic eye on the back of Homer's hand wink at him, he almost passed out.). What finally convinces him is when Hap comes back.

Hap' s consciousness somehow came through after almost four months of wondering what was wrong with his old job, and when he comes back, French is in the store early just as Jesse is getting there and Homer is about to pick up OA when Hap comes in and points a gun at him. He's yelling what French thinks is nonsense, about a rose window and Prairie and how she lied to him, but he knows better now, he knows, and French is dead sure he's going to die when OA starts yelling back that he's wouldn't dare harm him or any of her friends. He can see in the reflection of the mirror above the front desk that Hap looks deranged, and it's enough to convince him of two things: one, Hap is about to kill him, and two, Jesse was telling the truth all along. He's about to do something desperate, kick Hap or try to grab the gun, something, when there's movement in the mirror and he spots something heavy swinging towards them. He ducks just as Homer creeps up behind them and brains Hap with a piece of scrap metal. The cops are called and everything is mostly sorted out-- Hap, of course, is going to jail-- but French is still shellshocked from realizing that it's all real, that Jesse died and came back in this dimension and that there are angels that act more like his parents than his mother ever has. It's a shock to him, but he gradually adjusts, and Jesse begins slowly filling him in on their old life in the original Crestwood, how they came together when a once-blind victim of a kidnapping came back with vision and stories, how he died on a beach on the way to San Francisco after overdosing on an old man's pain medication. Eventually, he gets the go-ahead from OA to tell the others and fill them in on exactly what happened. They reunite as they're supposed to and eventually become just as tightly knit as they had been. The Steve from Crestwood eventually joins them and while it takes him some time to adjust, he's so thrilled to have Jesse back and that everything is okay here that he's content.

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infernaleikon · 6 years ago

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Prompt: Eliot and Q sharing a soft moment outside under the stars

Quentin practically falls through the door, losing his footing completely as it’s thrown open by Eliot from inside. Eliot catches him, though, wraps his arms around him in a secure hold, and it sends a thrill through Quentin’s body, Eliot’s seemingly casual strength.

“Eliot, what—” He stumbles over his words, suddenly anxious in the face of Eliot’s impatient urgency. “What’s wrong?”

Quentin quickly scans down his body to check for injury before he looks up, eyes fixing on Eliot’s face. The tumult in his gut settles instantaneously as he takes in the giddy expression on his face, carefree and excited. So it’s—something else. Quentin lets out a relieved breath.

“Oh, they delivered the wrong tiles for the bathroom, and the wiring in the kitchen is off,” Eliot says, mimicking a throw-away motion with his hand. He pulls the strap of Quentin’s bag off his shoulder, lets it drop the floor carelessly before grabbing both of his hands. Eliot starts walking backwards, pulls Quentin along with him. “I’ll get it fixed with a spell tomorrow because we are not spending any more money on incompetent muggles.”

“Uh,” Quentin makes, stumbling after Eliot.

They moved into the apartment only a week ago and there’s still a lot work that needs to be done. Quentin is surprised Eliot went along with non-magical solutions so far. Now, he doesn’t mind Eliot using magic to fix the wiring in the kitchen. The electrician they’ve hired has been there twice already and it still wasn’t any better, and Eliot had almost turned him into a leech the first time around.

It’s been a mess, really, between all the things that still needed fixing and all of their unpacked or half-unpacked boxes. Quentin had suggested they cast a sort of interior design spell for arranging all their stuff when the apartment was done, but Eliot insisted they decorate and arrange everything themselves. This is our place, Q, I want us to do it. Which had been so sweet, Quentin felt like turning into a gooey puddle of feelings right at Eliot’s feet.

When they round the corner to their living room/kitchen—it’s called open concept, babe—Quentin sucks in a surprised breath. Most of the space right in the middle had been cleared up, pieces of furniture and boxes pushed to the side to make room for a huge patch of soft-looking grass. A seemingly never-ending string of fairy lights ran around the spot, illuminating the space in soft light. There’s pillows and a blanket laid out, a plate with little snacks and delicious smelling finger foods, a bottle of wine. What truly takes his breath away, though, is the ceiling—or rather, what’s there instead of it.

Instead of it, there’s the night sky spanning across the entirety of the room, lit up with stars, endless and all-engulfing, as if he was standing outside somewhere—somewhere far away from New York, where there wasn’t any city around for miles and miles. He doesn’t even notice his mouth having dropped open in awe before Eliot puts two fingers to his chin and slowly closes it.

When Quentin manages to tear his gaze away from the cei—the sk—the—when he manages to tear his gaze away and look up at Eliot’s face, he sees him smiling a soft and happy little smile, pride and affection in his eyes. He weaves an arm around Quentin’s shoulder, pulling him in close against his side as he presses a kiss against his temple.

“Starstruck?” Eliot asks him, chuckling at his own pun. Quentin is.

“El—” he starts, words dying on his tongue, as he feels something huge and warm and happy grow behind his ribcage, threatening to burst, too small to contain everything that he’s swelling there. “I’m—”

“I know, baby,” Eliot says, simple, easy, so fond. He wraps both of his hands around one of Quentin’s and guides him through a little path between the boxes to the blanket on the grass, never taking his eyes off his face, as if he’s hungry to catalogue all of Quentin’s micro-reactions to the scene before him.

Quentin stops right in front of the grass while Eliot steps on it—Quentin sees his barefoot looking down—and sits down in one fluid, elegant motion. He lazily flicks his fingers to uncork the wine, and Quentin stares, mesmerized. It’s not the first time that all of Eliot captivates him, seems to freeze him in time and motion, and it always overwhelms him. The fact that it still happens, after a lifetime together, sends his heartbeat skyrocketing, every time.

There are so many things that are wrong, still, his brain tells him more often than not, but this—he knows it with a deep-sitting unencumbered certainty—this, Eliot, his life with him, is right, is good, in more than only one life.

“Q, you’re starting to worry me,” Eliot says finally, one eyebrow slightly raised, as he pours wine into a glass. “Lift your arms over your head, I need to check if you’re having a stroke.”

There’s a shit-eating little smirk tugging just at the corner of his mouth, though. Quentin rolls his eyes.

“Ha ha.”

Quentin kicks his shoes off and strips out of his socks before plopping down on the blanket next to Eliot who’s handing him the glass.

“What—what is this all for?” Quentin asks, finally, watching Eliot pour himself a glass of wine.

“A romantic pseudo-getaway, obviously,” Eliot answers with a look of amusement and incredulity. “I mean, I would’ve driven us out somewhere but since you’re not getting into a car with me anymore, I had to get creative.”

Quentin hadn’t even known Eliot could drive until it happened and—it’s not something he’s going to revisit.

Eliot says it with an air of offense, waving his free hand around and rolling his eyes at the same time. He smiles at Quentin, though, a knowing little smirk, teasing.

“El, this is—I mean—this is—it’s, uh, incredible. You—this is beautiful.”

Eliot sits up a little straighter, puffs out his chest, always fucking blooming under Quentin’s praise.

“Why, though?” Quentin asks, furrowing his brows. He quickly goes through important dates in his head and he hasn’t missed anything major.

Eliot twists his lips into a painfully fond expression as he reaches out to gently brush a strand of hair out of Quentin’s eyes, fingers lingering against his temple, stroking a thumb gingerly under his eye.

“You’ve been working so much,” he replies, scooches closer, and Quentin’s whole body aches with the need to be wrapped up in Eliot’s. “Wanted to give you a break.”

Eliot slides his hand to Quentin’s neck, face lit up so lovely by the fairy lights around them and the stars above, a smile on his lips that leaves Quentin devastatingly breathless. He closes the distance, lips settling on Quentin’s, for a kiss that is so sweet, so soft, so languid that Quentin feels like vibrating out of his skin with the sheer affection it carries. Eliot’s thumb brushes along his jaw, rubbing at the skin ever so slightly, and for a moment, the storm of thoughts in his head calms utterly, completely.

Before pulling back, Eliot drops another quick kiss on his lips. “Plus, I wanted you to nerd out on me about the stars and the enchanted ceiling, and basically anything that crosses your mind.”

Eliot puts his glass down and lies back, pulling Quentin along with him, until Quentin’s head is pillowed sideways on his chest and he can slide one of his hands into hair, while tangling the fingers of his other hand with Quentin’s.

“Are you sure?” Quentin knows he shouldn’t ask. He knows the answer anyway but still, he can’t help himself.

Eliot brings their hands up to his lips, pressing a warm kiss to his knuckles. “Q, I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life than I am about you.”

And Quentin knows that. He does. He knows because Eliot shows him that every day. Hearing him say it, though, so confidently, so easily—and Quentin knows it hasn’t always been that easy for Eliot—makes his heart soar.

Quentin answers, “I love you,” and Eliot hums with pleasure, not saying anything in return.

Because he knows, too.

#queliot #the magicians #ficcups #oh i just noticed it's not outside but #i hope u enjoy anyway #ALSO IDK????#shellygurumi

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firelord-frowny · 5 years ago

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im like? Annoyed bc im thinking about how the various skills that are attached to ~gender roles~ differ so wildly in how crucial they are.

like, a person doesn’t necessarily have to know how to cook, or do laundry, or clean their home in general. I mean, it really fuckin helps to know how to do things, but if you don’t, eating food that doesn’t taste good, or eating pre-made meals isn’t going to kill you. fucking up your clothes because you don’t know how to wash them properly is probably going to leave you with weird stains and make your clothes wear out faster, but it’s not really going to stop you from doing most important things. Having a dirty-ass house is gross as fuck, but like. You’ll live, most likely.

But changing a tire? If you don’t know how to change a tire and you’re driving by yourself in an isolated area and you get a flat, you’re in some deep shit. Like, that’s beyond inconvenient, and the situation is now also dangerous. If you’re lucky enough to be at or near your home when your tire goes bad, that’s still a pretty bad situation - if you live somewhere where public transportation isn’t really an option, how are you going to get to work? Now your job security is in jeopardy.

If, for instance, the circuit breakers trip in your home, and you don’t know how to fix it, that’s a big deal. You can’t just not have electricity. That’s not a problem that can just be left undealt with indefinitely. You have to call someone to come help if you don’t know how to fix it yourself, or at least how to look up how to fix it.

When things break around the house, often times it’s stuff that you almost literally can’t function without. The toilet is stopped up or is leaking. Your hot water heater seems to have quit working. Your stove isn’t heating up properly. Your car won’t start. Your wifi is down (this one surely sounds like a First World Problem but we all know that in this day and age it’s damn near impossible to keep up your professional life without convenient internet access).

I mean, sure, a person who doesn’t know how to fix any of these issues can always just call a plumber or a mechanic or an electrician or whomever, but those things 1) cost money, and 2) come with the inherent risk of allowing someone who’s probably a stranger into your home.

Single women who don’t know how to make basic home repairs, and who don’t have any close friends or family members they can call on for help, have to resort to shelling out money, AND exposing themselves to the risk of danger.

Meanwhile, men who don’t know how to cook, clean, and other basic-ass shit like that, can be perfectly happy to live in filth without it actually disrupting the routine of their lives, or jeopardizing their ability to take care of at least the absolute bare essentials, like Having Electricity, heating/cooling their home, getting to and from their jobs, etc.

And like??

It’s bullshit!

It’s like men are conditioned to be able to Actually Survive (even if they’re living in filth and squalor while they do it), and women are conditioned to just exist to make men’s lives more comfortable.

There’s no good fucking reason for why men shouldn’t be expected to know how to clean a damn toilet, or to know that you have to SWEEP AND MOP FLOORS in order for them to become Not Dirty, and there’s no good reason for why women shouldn’t be expected to know how to change a tire, or fix a leaky sink, or whatever.

i mean obviously, OBBBVIOUSLY not very single man is handy with a screwdriver and useless with a broom, and not every single woman is an expert housekeeper who has no idea how to use a wrench, but like. you know what i fuckin mean.

#AND?????#i'm pretty sure many men only THINK they know how to fix stuff

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massmurdera · 6 years ago

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2018 best (and some worst)

2018 was the shittiest year of my life personally and I was a trainwreck almost instantly. I was real hopeful going in, but I got my heart broken as badly as I could get (and it somehow just kept getting worse). Ugh. It’s boring to articulate, but it was a never-ending Russian nesting doll of heartbreak, disappointment, and frustration. But I made more positive changes in the last 12 months than I did in the last 12 years. So that’s something.

TV Funniest go-to show: Desus and Mero (wish they didn’t go on hiatus when they left for Showtime) Favorite shows: 1) Big Mouth 2) Atlanta 3) Killing Eve 4) Bodyguard 5) Haunting of Hill House

Other shows I enjoyed: American Vandal; Homecoming; Americans; GLOW; Better Call Saul; Succession; Cobra Kai; Kominsky Method; Corporate Meh: Barry; Sharp Objects; Who Is America?; Daredevil Favorite Comedy specials: 1) Rory Scovel 2) Bert Kreischer 3) John Mulaney

MOVIES 4 ½ stars: Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse; Sorry to Bother You 4 stars: Quiet Place; Hereditary; Mission Impossible: Fallout; Blackkklansman; Deadpool 2 3 ½ stars: To All the Boys…; Incredibles 2; Game Night; Revenge 3 stars (solid rental): Game Night; Upgrade; Revenge; Ant-Man; Hold the Dark 2 ½ stars (OK rental): Black Panther; Avengers Meh: Love Simon; Support the Girls Probably Good but bored the shit out of me: Roma; First Reformed; Eighth Grade Hated: Mandy; Ballad of Buster Scruggs

STILL NEED TO SEE: Bad Times at El Royale; Bodied; Creed 2; Death of Stalin; Favourite; First Man; Free Solo; Green Book; Halloween; If Beale Street Could Talk; Minding the Gap; Solo; Star is Born; Vice; Widows

MUSIC Favorite Records: 1) Brian Fallon-‘Sleepwalkers’ 2) Story So Far-‘Proper Dose’

1975 has great songs but they have too much filler in their records. Damn good songs: Foxing-‘Nearer My God’; Wonder Years-‘Pyramids of Salt’; Thrice-‘Beyond the Pines’ PODCASTS Favorite Podcasts personally: -Filmdrunk Frotcast (Movies/comedy) -Dollop (history PLUS comedy) -Bill Burr’s Monday Morning Podcast (one-man rant from the best comic alive) -Conan O’Brien Needs a Friend (comedy + conversations) -Rewatchables (Movies/comedy) -Bill Simmons (conversations) -Pardon My Take (sports + comedy) -Chapo Trap House (leftist politics + comedy) -Press Box (media)

Intercepted’s takedown of George HW Bush is great. That show and Citations Needed has its moments. I think if you’re a historian/leftist, the best podcasts are Hardcore History or Common Sense (Dan Carlin), Citations Needed, Intercepted, Chapo Trap House, and the Dollop. Dan Carlin is the one you can enjoy if you’re on ANY political spectrum—and the Dollop is not too far behind; that’s truly the most special when it hits.

Other: My Favorite Murder; Revisionist History; Matty + Nick; Hound Tall; We’ll See You in Hell; Binge Mode: Harry Potter; Bertcast/Open Tabs; Gladiator: Aaron Hernandez

Re-listening to Walking the Room for the 3rd time; that’s my favorite podcast of all time. Late pass: ‘Embedded’ series on Trump is amazing. Doesn’t come out often but when it does? Fascinating and goes in on Trump stories that don’t get talked about. Podcasts I’d recommend: In the Dark; RFK Tapes; Slow Burn (S2 on Monica Lewinsky scandal is great)

‘In the Dark’ is by far the best. S1 in 2016 I prefer over S2; check out both. Podcasts I’m going to check out: Crimetown: Detroit; Serial S3

Vince Mancini (Filmdrunk/Uproxx) has an annual best list on the best investigative/true crime podcasts each year that are the best lists I’ve seen. Best Dollop Episodes of the Year (must-listens on serious subjects): Donald Trump; the Resnicks: Water Monsters; George HW Bush; John McCain; Wells Fargo; Erik Prince & Blackwater

The above subjects deal with subjects to be genuinely outraged about versus faux things to be outraged about everyday (Russia; Louis CK or what a comic said) and the way the media talks or ignores subjects completely. The way it’s done is so great (Dave reading a topic coldly while his friend interjects with commentary—and then in the end coming together with a South Park-esque take on what the fuck is happening)

Other: Feinstein and the Flag; Levittown: the White Suburb Funniest episode of the Dollop: 1908 New York to Paris Car Race (live w/ James Adomian). Hands down the funniest. Dave purposely saved a great one for the fucking great and underrated James Adomian.

I can tune in and out of some Dollop episodes, but when it goes in on a subject or has a particular guest, you know it’s going to hit.

BOOKS Favorite book: City of Thieves by David Benioff Late pass great: ‘Slaughterhouse Five’ Pretty good: ‘Devil in White City’; ‘Lexicon’ Meh: ‘Sirens of Titan’ Hated: ‘the Bell Jar’

Best twitter follows/online writers: Justin Halpern; Drew Magary; Brian Grubb

BEST EVENTS: 1) Gaslight Anthem 59 Sound 10th Anniversary 2) Boston Calling: the National, Menzingers, Queens of the Stone Age, the Killers 3) Bert Kreischer @ Wilbur: near front row 4) Bill Burr @ TD Garden 5) Pats-Titans playoff game

Biggest regret and disappointment: Moving my ‘ex’ into my friend’s house in January (with the hope that I’d be living there half the time too)—only for her to end up wanting NOTHING at all to do with me that same day after I helped her unpack out of nowhere, threaten suicide in a non-joking manner in front of her new roommates and my friend after a political argument at the end of the first night she moved in, get with someone we work with behind my back almost instantly (a bland and lame cokehead who got busted for cocaine 18 months prior and faced 7 years in jail), try to fuck my friend when I was mid-conversation with them both first time seeing her 3 months after it all ended—and for her to eventually date my friend’s roommate who my friend warned me would try and fuck her but I didn’t take seriously because I thought he wasn’t good looking, tiny, just vaped all day long, and kind of a douche. Cool. Awesome.

I mean, that’s a simplistic breakdown of it all and how I feel about it when I’m angry. It’s more complex and fucked up than that and I could write a book on it to elaborate my thoughts, good and bad. It’s genuinely heartbreaking to articulate it and I withheld that from her: part of the reason why I moved her into my friend’s place (she didn’t know him or anybody) was because I wanted her in my life and didn’t want to lose her. Instead, it felt like I locked myself out of a party, I’m banging on the door and it’s cold outside, but nobody hears me. It’s just that feeling constantly. At the same time, it’s also very simple: she just wasn’t that into me, valued me, gave a damn, respected me, or cared. It’s NOT as angry or mean as it sounds. It just is what it is. Do NOT move the person you’re seeing into a friend’s place. If it doesn’t work out, make sure you can get a clean break. Oh, and probably do NOT date at work if you can until you know one of you is leaving (or, in my case, she leaves 10+ months after it’. I fucked both up and it’s been impossible to move on. Thankfully, she just left work 2 weeks ago and there’s less anxiety, mental work (thinking about her all the time which I still do but it’s not on maximum overdrive) and tiny heartbreaks each day. I mean, I was devastated when she told me she was leaving and there was finality. I miss her and have missed her all this time, but it’s a good thing: there was nothing I was getting out of it. But still: why did she say yes to moving into MY friend’ s place if she was just going to do a 360 heel turn, be an asshole and resentful towards me out of nowhere, never bother seeing the place I moved into/what I did with it?. Just a disaster of my own creation. I like to think in time I’ll get over it all and move on. I highly doubt I’ll ever see or talk to her again. I refuse to ever go back to my friend’s house for a variety of reasons and I had those thoughts even before the Cinco de Mayo party, but definitely after. I just don’t belong there and it hurts. And I know she’s uncomfortable too if I’m there even if she says otherwise.

Best thing personally: my brother got married, his wedding, friends, and my family. It’s cool to see my brother have his life together, be married into an awesome family, and meet a nice girl. I’ve seen my brother have his heartbreaks, but it’s nice to see him finally have peace and consistency. He’s got a really great house near where the Pats play (closer than where we’d park to games), works 4 days a week and makes bank too.

BIGGEST CHANGES I MADE moved out to a place of my own in late January-it’s my uncle’s 3-decker, which he intends to pass on to me. So I’m saving $ by being here and it’s decent. The drawback is that it’s 3rd floor and inhospitable during the summer when it’s an oven with no windows where they should be to put an AC unit in (I just stayed at my parents: I would have toughed it out but I desperately need sleep for school). But yeah, I’m over 30 and needed a place of my own. I’d love to live in Boston, but it’s completely fucking unaffordable unless you work 2-3 jobs.

One annoying thing: my driveway gets egged EVERY day since May. We have fake cameras, but pretty sure it’s the next-door neighbor and not some punk kids on their way to school. It is enraging. Who eggs a house everyday? And it’s literally only my car or the lady next to me, not even close to the street. I keep on looking at the trajectory of the eggs and it’s fucking ridiculous. Luckily, because of school (and because I was away during the summer), the egging doesn’t happen until after 8-10 AM.

I’m 10 minutes from my parent’s place (halfway to my workplace and gym as a cut-off place), 5 minutes from the school I attend, and centrally located to things I want to be (Boston, my brother, Cape Cod, possible job changes or to where I intend to move if I can)… went to school to be an electrician-In school 715 to 1245 Monday-Friday. Pain in the ass schedule and tiring, but a big change. I suck at being handy. Most people are sons of people in the trade or went to trade school. Then there’s me: never picked up a drill or a hammer. But I’m working on it.

I mean, the job IS risky (it’s not an office job) and any job outside of going back to school for a master’s or doctorate to get ahead (I fucking tried!) requires backbreaking manual work that breaks you down in most cases (construction, plumbing and smelling bad to even fixing cars where I hear that breaks your body down). Being an electrician seemed like the least of them all unless you want to be a linesman stuck outside no matter the weather for National Grid or down in manholes—because they pay REALLY well (most people in class actually want those jobs without reservations). I’m fine with being paid pretty well while enjoying myself. I’ll stay away from something monotonous like solar panels or being on a roof all day though.

Jiu-Jitsu-did this for 3 months and loved it. Had to take a break because I can only do weekends and it’s expensive. And I’m too exhausted for 9 AM class come Saturday. After a 6 AM to 12AM schedule M-F, I just completely fucking crash come Saturday. I fully intend on going back and doing yoga too when I finish school in July.

Most people start doing jiu-jitsu because of Joe Rogan. My answer got a laugh. ‘Yeah, I wanted to try something new. Also, I watched John Wick about a 100 times.’

Therapy-post ‘break-up’ I realized I needed help. I spent a month in February not being able to fall asleep (maybe 24 hours sleep in 3 weeks) before I finally got meds. About a million waking nightmares (holy shit that’s a thing). Constantly crying, particularly on the weekends without her, separation anxiety and just anxiety that did not go away at all: a constant weight. We had a Jim-and-Pam relationship at work, even when it was over—but once she started dating my friend’s roommate, she distanced herself more than ever and it was just fake as fuck. I was frustrated with not finding a job to not passing a test that I studied my ass for 3+ months for that would allow me to leave my job AND the girl. They threw in shit that was not on the study guide at all in the test. Blah. I punched a hole through my bedroom wall (like they do in the movies) and fucked up my hand a bit.

But yeah, I’m working on my confidence, following through with my goals, challenging myself, making adjustments, facing fears, getting over my anxiety, relationships. I’m proud of how, even without therapy, I handled the girl who was cold and distant: I was ALWAYS warm and welcoming, had a good attitude about it with her. It wasn’t a point of pride to be that way; I just was. If I was around her, the hurt just kind of all faded, however briefly. In the back of my head I wanted to light her the fuck up for how she was acting or NOT acting, but I just didn’t. But it’s hard. I am depressed all the time, but not nearly as overwhelming as I was. I’m really lonesome—and I want to reach out, but I don’t know to who a lot of the time. I feel left out and it’s hard to maintain relationships, but I am trying. It’s hard at 32 but people fade away. You think you’re wiser and more mature that it won’t happen, but it does. It’s just harder to make friends, I guess. I ruminate all the time and think too much. I’m trying to be mindful and in the moment. But I keep on thinking about all the things I’m NOT doing or the things I’m waiting for to happen. But there’s always going to be that. I am doing a LOT and the changes aren’t coming all at once. I like my therapist (I had one when I was in 5th grade and again when I was 19: I didn’t like them: finding a therapist that fits you is the biggest thing)

I realized a lot of the problems I had were patterns even going back to the heartbreak I felt at 18-20 when I was the worst mess I ever was. It wasn’t the girl who broke my heart, but it was me. I should have been better and stronger far before I met her. I wasn’t really living I don’t think. In some ways, I gave up and was sleepwalking through things. But everything I thought I was past just bubbled to the surface. And I had to get it right, something needed to change, and I needed help.

I withheld my problems from everybody because I didn’t want to be a burden. I especially did NOT want to be depressing but I think I became a burden for the girl who broke my heart. She had nothing to give and she was upset at me for talking to her at work and being cheerful, telling stories, or anything. Secretly, I was a mess and it was painful. In a way, I was denying myself and that made it worse.

Here’s the thing: I don’t think I’m that big of a mess. I might be lonely, but I got a good head, attitude, and people generally like me. I make people laugh easily and without trying. I got a lot going for me and I got support.

Tattoos -got the lighthouse tattoo I always wanted since I was 18. I didn’t believe a tattoo artist could carry out my idea. Liked the tattoo artist so much that I stretched it out into a full sleeve. I want to do more and have some ideas. We’ll see.

Other-new car; collecting board games; got tour posters and Pats memorabilia framed WORST POLITICAL: the chaos that comes with Trump-Well, that hasn’t changed. I’ll hate the GOP/Republicans and that goes without saying. I have some small hope with people like Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez, but I don’t have any faith in the Democratic party at fucking all: they will rather work with Republicans than work with people who actually want to make an actual change. You kind of just realize how shitty a party they and Obama were and how they are bought/paid for and resistant to any meaningful change. We are fucked.

LOOK AHEAD TO 2019: -finishing school in July and starting new career as electrician -cousin’s wedding and going to Las Vegas for a bachelor party (I’m more psyched for the awesome house we are staying in than Vegas itself) -Pats playoff run and possible end of Brady-Gronk: I’m not hopeful, but I’m going to enjoy my favorite Boston athletes of my lifetime. Couldn’t ask for anything more from them. I just wish Bill Belichick did a better job as a GM and not fucking up nearly every draft since 2006 besides 2010 and 2012. They’ve won 5, but feels like Belichick cost the Pats 3-5 more minimum. Every year you have Tom Brady, you’re in the AFC Championship or Super Bowl. Belichick and Patricia mailed in the Eagles Super Bowl on defense. WTF was that? -doing jiu-jitsu, yoga, taking up swimming, continue following through on my gym program: my goal is to delay having a bad back as long as possible. I’m in the best shape of my life by far, so that’s good. I want to cut some of my gut weight out though: when I bend down to put on my work boots, I feel it. -more tattoos? -dating again (I am struggling so BADLY with online dating and need to work on having better pics: I can’t get a single match/date) -looking at buying a condo or home. I’ve got about $100K saved up and just slowly collecting things in my apartment for the big transition. Still would like to see where I end up working. Ideally, I’d love to have a lake house somewhere decent and centralized.

BOOKS: -Don Winslow wrapping up cartel/border trilogy -new Gillian Flynn?!? -Marlon James’ African Game of Thrones trilogy begins -Stephen King

TV 1a) Desus and Mero returns 1b) Game of Thrones final season 2) Veep final season 3) Lovecraft Country 4) Watchmen 5) Stranger Things 6) Good Omens 7) Devs 8) Fosse/Verdon

NEW: City on a Hill; Deadwood movie; Star Wars; Veronica Mars

MUSIC -Boston Callling -new: 1975, Bruce Springsteen

MOVIES: 1) Once Upon a Time in Hollywood 2) John Wick III 3) Us Toy Story IV 4) Fast and Furious: Hobbs and Shaw OTHER: Avengers; Captain Marvel; Glass; It 2; Joker; Lego Movie 2; Spiderman; Star Wars; Under the Silver Lake; Where’d You Go Bernadette; Zombieland 2

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