#she just reminds me of an orange creamsicle | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years ago

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chapter twelve: alex’s thirtieth birthday

"fall is here, hear the yell, back to school, ring the bell. brand new shoes, walking blues, climb the fence, books and pens. i can tell that we are gonna be friends." -"we're going to be friends", the white stripes

The music shop was nestled on the corner, right around the block from their hotel, and by the time in which Belinda had finished, Sam led her to it without an explanation. With her hand on the cane’s handle, she followed after Alex in through the front door of the cozy little shop. It was like following a young boy into a candy store, especially when he showed her a beautiful pearly white guitar off of the rack and he slung it over his shoulder.

“Play that with Trans-Siberian Orchestra,” she suggested as he plugged it into the amp on the shelf right next to him.

“I know, right?”

He lightly plucked at the strings with the little pick next to him. The body looked as though it was made of cream and when he flipped his short shag of a hairdo back, it only made the body shine even more underneath the fluorescent lights upon the ceiling. His fingers glided about the fretboard without an iota of effort, as if it was within his nature to do it. It was within his nature to play guitar and let it guide his way worth into the New Millennium and the future at large.

He treated Sam and Belinda to a little something from a man named Al Di Meola, whom he had introduced the former to sometime before, but the latter had only heard about in passing. At one point, he paused and he ran his fingers through the hair on the side of his head, and yet he picked up right where he left off on the strings and the guitar’s body with enough speed to make Belinda jump back a bit.

“What’s up?” he asked her.

“Nothing, you just picked up on that so well,” she remarked. “Like that pause there with your hair didn’t faze you out one bit.”

“Welcome to the wide, wide musical world of Alex Skolnick, Belinda,” Sam pointed out, to which he chuckled at that. “It all flows with him like water.”

“It flows with me like fire,” he corrected her with a little tilt to his head.

“Fire and water,” Belinda followed along.

“Best of both worlds,” Sam joined in right then.

“Best of both worlds, exactly.” Alex flashed her a wink and he continued on with the little piece of music, and at a quick rate no less. He kept on going until one of the shop clerks told him to put the guitar back otherwise, they would have to buy it, and Belinda only had so much many left on her person before they had to head on back East again.

All the while, the whole entire time they were there, Alex had his eye on the beautiful smooth orange creamsicle-colored guitar on the wall opposite from there, but there was no way in which Belinda could get it for him at the moment. Sam wished she had enough cash with her that she could get it for him right then and there. He had done so much for her in the past that she almost felt a need to give back to him for real at some point, especially right then and there with that model on the wall.

It really was like walking about a candy store with a young kid: he would look at the models on the wall, the ones that were upwards of a few thousand dollars, or the ones at the back of the shop, and all the while, he had such a glimmer in his eye, this youthfulness to him, another quality to him that she had never really seen before.

And it was right when Alex took his seat on the top of a table with a little red guitar perched upon his lap, one that reminded her a lot of that old little red guitar he used to have, that Sam realized she had behaved with much more restrain on her end, especially when it came to things that she wanted. The day in the art store down in San Francisco, when she got the journal, was perhaps the one time she was actually upfront with what she wanted while she was with him.

She began to wonder if he saw her in the same way that she saw him. She began to wonder if her feelings towards him even carried any weight to them at all, and coincidentally, she began to wonder if his feelings towards her even had any weight to them at all as well.

She kept that in mind as they turned in for the night and she and Alex shared the bed under the window together, and thus Belinda had the other bed all to herself. Sam lay there on her back with her gaze fixed on the ceiling overhead, until at one point when she rolled her head over the top of the pillow for a glimpse over at his slumbering face next to her. It was a rather large queen-sized bed, and it beat sleeping on the hard ground in a tent about several hundred feet from the water: no matter how warm and comfy those sleeping bags were, there was something more about sleeping in a hotel bed, especially with the clearance between the two of them.

Through the dim light of the clock on the nightstand and the power light from the VCR on the other side of the room, she made out the gentle softness on Alex’s face. The way in which the shadows crossed over his eyes and the bridge of his prominent nose, and his little lips, and she couldn’t help but think of a young boy right then. Thirty years old in a couple of months’ time, and yet he never looked softer to her than right at that very moment in bed next to him.

The thought persisted with her but it still left her hung up on herself in the end. She wished that she could just let go like him, that she could climb on out of her head and feel life at her fingertips and within her body, in a way that Alex did with himself. Her body was right there, right with her, and yet every part of it seemed so out of reach. She wished for that feeling on her end over and over inside of her head as she felt her eyes close. She soon drifted off to a dreamless sleep, and one that seemed to last only a few minutes when she finally awoke the next morning to the sound of Belinda laughing at something.

Alex had gotten up and thus, she was alone there in the bed. She rolled over and she spotted Belinda propped upright in the next bed with her attention fixed on the television. Sam rubbed her eyes and she sat up herself.

“’Morning, sleepyhead,” Belinda greeted her, and she turned down the TV for the commercials.

“’Morning,” Sam returned the favor; she rubbed her temples and she stretched her legs under the bedsheet. Her ankle ached and her knee felt as though she still had some metal screws embedded inside of there to keep the bone sealed together, but she moved and stretched it about as if the accident had never happened in the almost five years before then. But whenever she felt out her own body, all she could feel was pain. Pain and scar tissue from something that probably should have killed her.

“Where’s Alex?” she asked her, and right then, she heard the pipes under the bathroom faucet running with a fresh influx of water.

“Bathroom,” Belinda replied. The door swung open and he padded on out of there, dressed in nothing but a plain shirt and those little white shorts. He ran his fingers through his hair and he gave his head a little shake, and then he raised his arms over his head and stretched his back.

“Man...” he groaned.

“Did you sleep okay?” Sam asked him.

“I’m afraid not,” he said as he put his arms down and tugged down on the bottom hem of his shirt. “I woke up a few times—the first time, I literally woke up for no rhyme or reason. I just woke up and lay there on my side looking at the back of your head, Samantha. The second time, I was dying of thirst and so I had to get up and get a drink of water for myself. And then the third time, I had this horrible pain in my stomach, such that I thought I was gonna puke, but I never did. When I finally did go back to sleep, Miss Wanderlust over here turned on the TV and even though she tried to keep the volume down low, she couldn’t hear it.”

“But I didn’t want to wake you or her, though,” Belinda insisted.

“Oh, yeah, I know that. I still woke up anyway, though.” He rubbed his eyes and fetched up another yawn. “So, I assume we’re going back down today.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sam replied. “I feel bad we weren’t able to take the best road trip out here to California, though. Our last road trip here in California, no less.”

“As far as we know, anyway,” Alex pointed out. “There could be another time where we’ll get the chance again. Who knows when, but I have no doubt we’ll be doing it again at some point in the future.”

Belinda huddled down in the bed next to them and she brought the hem of the blanket up to her ears.

“Are you cold?” Sam asked her.

“Freezing. I've been cold the whole time we came out here, too.”

Alex looked over at Sam with his eyebrows knitted together.

“Can you believe this?” he asked her, baffled.

“Yeah, I know. The same thing happened to Marla, too, the exact same thing happened to her when she and I went to my mom’s house down on Catalina. That was right around Christmastime, too, right in the middle of December, yeah, but she was all huddled up next to me on the couch like she was freezing to death. And Christmastime or not, it really wasn’t even that cold out.”

“Was it sunny or cloudy?”

“Cloudy. Kind of like this, and yeah, it was cool out, but it was like your given marine layer down by L.A. on any given day. Nothing special.” Belinda shivered regardless of that fact, and she shook her short blonde hair about. She eyed Alex and his little shorts.

“You’re a brave man,” she told him in a voice muffled by the covers up over her mouth and her chin.

“Why? ‘Cause I’m wearing shorts?”

She never replied but he and Sam knew that that was the answer she had in mind. Indeed, Sam brought her gaze to Alex’s bare legs, the smooth skin from the inside of his thighs all the way down to his knees and all along the curvature of his shins to his slender, graceful ankles and his slender bare feet. She never realized how smooth and lovely the bones in his feet were before, that is until she took a good long look at them.

She thought about the time she got to draw him in the buff in her old apartment. Somehow, by some magic trick of some sort, she had missed his feet right there on the rungs of the stool. She could do a whole study of his feet at some point, his feet and his ankles together. There was something so lovely about his feet that she would go insane if she didn’t draw them at some point in the future.

Even when he put his socks and his shoes back on and they checked out of the hotel later on that morning, she still found herself with her attention on his feet and his ankles. It helped that he still wore those snug black jeans and they accentuated the shape and the curve of his lower legs. She thought about Joey’s legs and their long and lanky shape, about their slenderness and their strength even in spite of it, and yet she still found herself looking and thinking about Alex’s legs in the end. She brought her attention up to the seat of his pants and the small of his back, especially when he helped her and Belinda load everything back into the car for the ride back to the Bay Area.

She stood back for a moment as he did it himself; Belinda lingered off to the side next to her, and so there was no way she could see the look on Sam’s face. She eyed the way in which his pants fit him, the way that the dark fabric accentuated the curves of his body. Though he was still very slender, he wore those jeans well and he carried that weight in the middle of his body a little too well.

Sam shook her head once Alex stood back upright and ran his fingers through his hair; he reached up and closed the trunk lid and he turned to the two women with the car key in hand. Sam put her hand out and he handed it to her with a lopsided little smirk on his face, as if he saw her looking at his backside.

“Alex has junk in the trunk,” Belinda whispered into her ear, and right then, she felt the warmth bloom in her face.

“Like how we have junk in our trunks?” Sam retorted back to her, and she hobbled up to the driver’s side door as Belinda treated her to a soft little giggle.

When they returned to the road, neither of them said anything, but Sam couldn’t help but take a glimpse into her rear-view mirror back at Belinda and the smirk on her face. Meanwhile, Alex sat there in the seat next to her with his fingers up against the “oh, shit!” handle and his mirrored lenses with the bright glimmer of the morning.

“When does our plane leave?” Belinda asked them as they rolled up to the next red light, and Sam could hear in her voice that she was stifling another giggle.

“It's the four-thirty plane, remember?” Sam called back to her.

“Oh, yeah, that’s right. For some reason, I kept thinking we were taking the red eye.”

“Nah. We just had to check out by eleven-thirty is all. Which means we’re gonna be home by ten o’clock-ish. Eh, could be worse.”

“Hell yeah, it could be worse,” Alex said right then. “Remember when we toured down in New Zealand?”

“Oh, yeah,” Sam answered. “That was one of my favorite places you guys went to, too.”

“But I didn’t sleep for something like a whole day afterwards, though,” he told her. “I was all out of whack for a bit.”

“Really?” Belinda chuckled.

“Yeah, I didn’t, either,” Sam joined in as the light turned green. “I was with Joey back then, too. I don’t think he slept, either.”

She flexed her fingers and she glanced about the street both ways, even as the light on the other side of the intersection turned red. The persistent deep ache inside of her leg couldn’t have been more prominent that morning as they rolled forward, right over the heart of the intersection. An old scar that had rooted itself even further in her leg, and she wondered why that was the case, especially since she didn’t really feel an iota of pain as she walked along the hotel walkway and when she slid into the driver’s seat.

But they made it across the intersection, and within time, they reached the outside of Eureka and they headed on down that part of the California coastline. Another couple of hours through the white sands and the dense clusters of redwoods and they would be in Ukiah and then the Bay Area itself in no time. A part of her was eager to return home to New York City, but then again, there was something rather unfortunate about the whole trip.

It was the first road trip she took with Alex where they left it without having done anything memorable, aside from the night in the campground where they still managed to get wet from the high tides. She couldn’t blame Belinda, however, because she did what she could the whole entire time, and if anything, Sam enjoyed the fact that Belinda was with them that whole time. The whole trip just managed to be a complete and total dud.

At least they still had a lot of money left over and the three of them had managed to walk out of the whole thing all together, in one piece and back in that station wagon. All three of them were still together, and they left that corner of Northern California without a lick of animosity between the three of them.

She thought about what Chuck had told her all that time ago when Testament were touring together, when life was just starting out with them. “We don’t have much, but we have each other.”

They didn’t have much, but they had each other. And yet, all the while, Sam couldn’t help but feel as though she had missed something. There was supposed to be something more to the whole thing, something to make it worthwhile, something to give it extra meaning. They went up there with a plan, and yet it all felt so normal. Far too normal for her to remember anything beyond the one night and the raging tides outside of the campground.

She felt as though there had to be something more to it, especially since that was officially the last summer she would spend with Alex while he still lived with her in the apartment. Her dad had moved out and he was preparing it for himself come the first of the next month. Another round of living in that apartment by herself. Even though they would be nearby her, there was something about having Ruben and Alex in the same apartment with her. Something that made her wake up with a sense of comfort in her.

The road wound through the trees, along the white sands which had become blindingly bright even with the hazy sun overhead. The marine layer had cleared out a bit with the passage of the morning, and in its wake, a thin veil of haze over the nearly midday sun.

At one point, she turned her attention to Alex. Somewhere along the line, he had unbuckled his seat belt and nestled down in the seat next to her, and as a result, he napped there in the seat next to her. He had taken off his sunglasses and kept his head down, away from the blinding light of the white sands out there.

As a result, his deep eyes coated with a bit of shadow so every inch of his face softened up a bit more. Belinda had been rather silent since they left the outer rim of Eureka as well. Sam took a glimpse into the rear-view mirror over her head and she saw that Belinda had dozed off herself: her blonde head leaned against the top of the seat. Sam wondered if she was at all comfortable back there as she returned her attention to the road before her. She was alone there in the front seat of the car with her own thoughts. She gazed straight ahead to the road before her, the way it extended beyond her horizon like a big snake. A snake like the pendant around Belinda’s neck, the same pendant she had with her on her bike ride.

Sam wondered if she made any mention of that pendant in her photography book, given she had always known Belinda with that pendant.

Every so often, a cluster of trees emerged from the horizon before her and she flashed back on that lonesome tree off in the distance. That time around, however, she had the ocean as her companion. Though it stood several miles from the edge of the road, she took a quick glimpse over to the low horizon out there, beyond the white sands and the stray cluster of trees to the vast abyss out there. Though she had moved back East once again with her dad and Alex, she knew that she would always come back to the Pacific Ocean every now and again.

She knew that her eyes would always fixate on the vast stretch of blue waters, still royal blue even with the clouds overhead and the next storm that came in from Alaska or Hawai’i.

Like how Crater Lake was her lake, the Pacific was her ocean. She could always come back to those blue waters with the both of them, back to the sinister feeling of a volcano underneath her feet that was Crater Lake, of fire that balanced out those cold blue waters; back to the raging torrents under the cold surface of the Pacific Ocean, and back to the Ring of Fire itself. Even when life picked up again after the fact, she could always come back to the quiet place. The silence so loud.

She brought her attention back to the road before her as she went around a gentle curve. It would be another couple of hours before she reached Ukiah followed by the Bay Area again, and she had no idea as to when Alex and Belinda would awake again.

But then, as the forest grew more and more lush all around her, she then saw that could perhaps be her quiet place, a place of her own. Those giant reddish trees topped with those deep, dark canopies and those scraggly branches, all of which that lined the sides of the highway all the way down the northwestern corner of the state. Though the trip itself had left her disappointed and with a craving of more, a lot more out of their money’s worth, she knew that she could always come back to the coastline itself in the future. She had to at some point, especially since that was within range of everything that she had known, everything she had grown up with.

She saw a little bit of the world with Testament and Anthrax already, and yet she knew that she could always come back to the West Coast at any time. She could go all over the world, back to the place she called home in New York City and back to upstate New York, and she knew that none of it would bring her the same level of tranquility as that pocket of the West Coast.

Sam drummed her fingers on the rim of the steering wheel as the forest thickened up. Every so often, she took a glimpse out her window at the biggest of the trees by the edge of the road, all of them that brick red color and all of them stout and strong. For some reason, the sight of them made her think of Testament.

The way that they went forth with their music, the way they performed, even when they were considered part of the second wave after Metallica and Anthrax, they were strong together. Even when that officially classic line-up had fractured, and Alex, Greg, and Louie all went their separate ways from Chuck and Eric, they would always be the mighty Testament. The five of them as strong and mighty as those redwood trees, and even though she had been wrong about metal making a comeback in the past decade, she knew that they would persist. She had a feeling within her that Testament would continue on and they would stay strong as ever, even when the passage of time itself caught up with them down the line.

They were artists as well: she knew that an artist never retired. No way they could look on at old age with the fear of having to retire. They would keep on going until they simply couldn’t, the same way in which she would persist with her artistry as well. It would have to take something extra serious in order for Chuck and Eric to put down their guitars and their microphones and call it a day. It would have to take something horrible to get Alex to stop what he was doing.

It was right then that she thought about Greg and Louie, and she hoped that Marla and Belinda’s Millennium party on New Year’s Eve 1999 wouldn’t be the only time in which she got to see the two of them again. And then she realized that she hadn’t seen Greg in three years up to that point. She really hoped that wouldn’t be the only other time she would get to see him.

All the while, she couldn’t help but think about Frank and Charlie as well. And once more, she fell down that rabbit hole, the realization that she hadn’t seen or heard from them in so long. While Testament were still going off in the background, and Metallica were putting down roots and settling down in a way that she couldn’t hardly fathom, she thought about the men who had introduced her to it all. Frank was the first one whom her parents were introduced to, and she couldn’t even recall the last time she got to see him aside from Anthony’s funeral the two years before. Two years!

She wondered if they even knew that Marla had a near-death experience in the few months before, even with Chuck’s mention that everyone knew about it. News didn’t travel that far outside of the Bay Area, unless there was something about it all that she had missed in the past.

She thought about sending Frank and Charlie both something, but she had to figure out where the two of them lived at that point. She also had to figure if the two of them had women in their lives at that point as well, especially since Joey and Scott did themselves.

It really seemed as though Alex was her only single guy friend left, and yet she reveled in the fact that he was alone and he persisted in his desire to be solo as well. Something about it comforted her so much, even when he stirred and he opened his eyes.

Sam took a glimpse over at him and showed him a smile.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” she greeted him, and he groaned in his throat and he rubbed his eyes.

“Hey,” he returned the favor to her; he then sat up in the seat and rolled his head a bit to ease the pressure in his neck. She couldn’t help but keep her eye on the inside of his neck, at his collar bones from underneath his shirt collar, even when he bowed his head forward and closed his eyes to ease the tight feeling within him, and even when she paid more attention to the road straight ahead of them. He arched his back and stretched his arms over his head, complete with his forearms brushed against the inside of the roof.

“How’re you feeling?” she asked him.

“Better. I've fallen asleep on an airport bench before, so that was nothing, to fall asleep right here like that.” He rubbed his eyes again and he shook his head about. Though the forest was still plenty thick on either side of the road, he squinted his eyes as if the hazy sunlight further blinded him. He reached for his sunglasses on the dashboard and he put them back on over the bridge of his nose.

“How far do you think we are from Ukiah?” he asked her in a broken voice.

“I have no idea, to be honest,” she replied with a shake of her head. “The way back feels like it’s been a lot longer than it seems.”

“It’s funny, that happened to me when we went up to Oregon together.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. When we were driving back from Klamath, and down into Sacramento, it felt like it took a lot longer to come back than it did to go up that way. It was—it was something. And all the while, I was itching to tell you something, too.”

Her heart skipped a few beats at that.

“And what would that be?” she asked him, albeit with a bit of reluctance.

“Where’s the nearest coffee stand?” he said straight up, such that it made her giggle by surprise. He then looked over at her with a befuddled expression on his face. “What’d you think I meant?”

“Nothing,” she told him with a shake of her head and a gesture of her hand. He ran his tongue along the edge of his top teeth and he stroked his chin.

“You know...” he started, and then he stopped right in his tracks. And he took a glimpse over his shoulder to the back seat. “Oh, okay, she’s asleep.” He returned to her and the view of the road before them.

“What is it?” she asked him, puzzled.

“The past... what was it, a week, a couple of weeks, almost a month? Since Eric and Rebecca’s wedding?”

“Yeah, almost a month,” she replied.

“During that time, I think about the conversation you and I had on the balcony. You know, when we were getting into the nitty-gritty about how we feel about each other.”

“Yeah?” She glanced over at him and the pensive look upon his face. “And?”

“And, well, I just—think about it sometimes. It's a fleeting thought, but I do in fact think about it, though. Like it really gave me some insight into you, Samantha. I still don’t think we could do it, though.”

“I don’t, either,” she quipped with a shake of her head. “And not with you moving out of the apartment, too.”

“That, too,” he said with a wag of his finger. “It’s still interesting to think about, though.” He turned his head back to her; even with his mirrored sunglasses, she could sense the thoughtful look in those deep eyes. She didn’t even have to look behind those lenses to see it for herself. “Wouldn’t you agree? That it’s interesting to think about?”

“If... you and I actually got together?” she followed along in an almost hushed voice.

“Yeah. Like, isn’t it fun to think about that sort of thing? I've had a couple of girls around me before, and you’ve had fun with Cliff and Joey in the past so it’s not like we’re inexperienced.”

“True, true.”

“I dunno, it’s just a thought,” he confessed with a shrug.

“It really is,” she added. They fell back into a brief pause when he spoke again.

“Thoughts are worth something, though. Every great thing began with a singular thought. I dunno ‘bout you, but that’s how I've always seen it before. There's a reason why some people composed music rather than let it percolate in their minds for all eternity.”

“Wasn’t there a classical composer that went crazy because of that?” she asked him. “Like, he kept on thinking of the same piece of music over and over again in his head and nothing he did could get it out of his head?”

“I think so? I forget who, but—then again, that just might be a myth.” He then flashed her a thoughtful little smile.

“What?” she asked him.

“Look at you being all cool and talking about classical composers,” he proclaimed.

“I would think it’s common knowledge,” she confessed with a shrug and another drumming of her fingers on the steering wheel. “There’s a reason why it’s often referred to as ‘classical’ music after all, I would think.”

“Yeah, you would think that,” he told her. “In the lessons I took with Joe—Joe Satriani—you would be surprised as to how many people are honestly clueless about the scope of classical music, especially on heavy metal. I have no doubt—that should I get this part with Trans-Siberian Orchestra later on down the line, I'm going to be looking at more and more pieces of classical music. That's just what I'm told about their whole shtick, too, that it’s more than just Christmas music. It's heavier, harder music with that symphonic feel to it.”

“Interesting,” Sam remarked in a low voice.

“And again, that’s just what I'm told, anyways. I have to actually try out for the part and witness it for myself to really get the taste of it.”

“You want me to come with you to it?” she suggested to him.

“If you want,” he replied with a raise of his eyebrows and a shrug of his shoulders. “I was by myself for my audition with Testament and my other auditions—it’d be nice to have someone else there with me while I'm standing in front of a bunch of people in their nice thousand-dollar suits and their gaze locked onto me.”

“When is your audition, anyway?” she asked him.

“Let’s see, I start school in the middle of September?” he recalled, and then he hesitated for a moment, with his fingers back up on the inside of the handle and his other hand pressed upon his left knee. “And then it’s my birthday... I think it’s—actually the day after my birthday, if I recall correctly? It's my day off so I can go about and do that when I have the time. It's going to get hectic, I'm gonna tell you that much, Samantha.”

“Wow. So, that whole two weeks is going to be something for the both of us.”

“Absolutely. And—given the hectic quality to it, this really is going to be the last time you and I are going to be hanging out together for a while.”

“I hope it won’t be,” she said in a soft voice. “I like hanging with you.”

“And I like hanging with you, too,” he replied to her with a little nod of his head and a sly smirk upon his face. “Of all the people you and I know, all the people whom we know between the two of us, you’re probably the only one I can come to and feel like I'm not being judged for what I've done in the past. I don’t know if it’s just the fact that we’ve known each other as long as we have, but—that's how I feel when I'm with you, Samantha. I feel like I can just let go and relax for a bit when I'm with you. And I like that. I like that you’re not judgmental and you’ve got a good head on your shoulders.”

“By the way, are you gonna wear the suede jacket I made for you or the velvet one?” she asked him.

“Probably the suede one. That one’s kind of the underdog now, if I'm being perfectly honest. I mean, I love the velvet coat, but there’s something about the suede jacket, though. You had more of a struggle with that one and that came off the heels of this—” She took a glimpse over at him as he ran his fingers through his hair again.

“And it fits you so well, too,” she declared.

“It fits me oh, so well!” he proclaimed, and he held his hands out before him as if he beheld a masterpiece. She giggled at him, given she didn’t want to wake up Belinda.

“You know what’s another thing I think about often?” he asked her.

“What’s that?”

“The time you drew me naked.”

“Oh, if I’m being perfectly honest—I think about that, too, Alex.”

“There was just something so—so—”

“Intimate?” she followed along.

“Intimate, yes! There was something so intimate about me sitting there on the stool in front of you, while you had that pad of paper on your lap like that, and every now and again you looked up at me. It still strikes me completely off guard that someone would see me and my body as a piece of art.”

“You know, Alex,” she started again. “If I'm being perfectly honest, sometimes I feel that way.”

“Really?” He frowned at that, taken aback.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Really, you?”

“Yeah, me. Why? You have another opinion?”

“Uh, yeah?” he said out loud. “Now, me, I understand because I'm funny looking.”

“You’re not funny looking,” she told him off, complete with a shake of her head. “You’re not funny looking, Alex.”

“I am!” he insisted. “I’ve got this big ol’ bundle of premature how-do-you-do on my head that I get way too many questions about and I've got this weird thing going with my teeth... I've got this bloody voice, too.”

“I actually really like your voice,” she told him with a smile. “I remember when I first heard you talk, and your voice struck me, like it didn’t seem to fit your face or your body. But now, I can hear it from clear across the room, like how I can recognize your hair and your eyes from a whole mile away. I also think it’s soothing, too.”

“My voice? Soothing, really?”

“Oh, yeah,” she replied with a little smile in his direction. “I could listen to you talk for hours, Alex. I could listen to you narrate a big fat novel for as long as it is.”

“But I think it’s interesting that you don’t think you’re not that much of a looker, though, Samantha,” he confessed to her.

“I really am not,” she replied with a shake of her head. “Even after I dated Cliff and even after I had been with Joey as well, I still just can’t see it in me.”

“Really?” He was genuinely taken back by that.

“Really, really,” she replied with a nod of her head. She glanced over at Alex and the way in which he wore his sunglasses right then, part of the way down the bridge of his nose, at those deep eyes that scanned over her face and her head. He never said anything, but she still wondered what was going on inside of that brain of his at that very moment.

Belinda sniffled and she groaned in pain. Sam took a glimpse into the rear-view mirror for a look back at her.

“Hey, there she is!” she declared, and Alex peered back at her.

“Our dear photographer,” he added in a grand voice. Belinda rubbed the side of her neck and she ruffled her hair.

“Holy crap, what happened?” she asked them in a voice broken by sleep, albeit sleep while her head lay down at an odd angle.

“We’re almost to Ukiah,” Sam replied to her as a green sign emerged from Alex’s side of the road.

“No, I mean, what did I do?” Belinda corrected herself. “My neck really hurts right now, like a lot. Like I fell asleep on a wooden board.” Sam took another glimpse into the mirror at the sight of her flexing her neck and rolling her head about to ease the feeling in her neck.

“I’m not sure,” she confessed. “Earlier, I looked back at you, and I wondered as to how you can be comfortable back there.”

Belinda groaned and she rolled her head to the side a bit more. When Sam brought her attention back to the road before her, every so often, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Alex showing her that thoughtful expression on his face. She wondered if she had done something to him back there, with her compliments to him and his stunned reaction to her. There was no way she could be attractive enough, let alone attractive enough to warrant an artwork based off of her likeness.

It was as if her own feelings about herself had shook him down to his foundations and as a result, he had been left in pensive silence. Even as he paid attention to the highway and also the view of the ocean off to the right of them, every so often, he turned back to her as if he was about to say something to her, but he never did.

And even though she paid more attention to the road before her, she still noticed him with his attention turned to her every so often, and all the while, it looked as though he was in fact about to say something to her, as if he was about to object to the way in which she felt about herself, but he came up short with words. Even a man as eloquent as himself, he still found himself at a loss for words when she confessed that to him. And she knew that there was very little she could do right then, not with Belinda right behind them and within earshot of them.

Within time, they rolled into Ukiah, and then it was home stretch down to the hills of San Francisco. At that point, the sun had moved past high noon and yet the warmth of the day still remained away from that part of California. But she knew it was going to be rather warm back home in New York City.

She brought them over the Golden Gate Bridge for one last round, and all the while, she and Alex caught the sound of Belinda’s camera shuttering.

The next book was coming, no doubt about that.

Within time, they rounded Golden Gate Park and they returned to the airport parking lot. She handed in the keys and they waited for almost an hour before they were allowed to board the plane. Up to that point, Alex flexed his fingers about as if he missed his guitar. He would be reunited with one of his guitars soon enough, but she could see it in his eyes, however.

He flexed his fingers about in such itched fashion. He itched to play. He itched to do the stroke and let his own fingers do the talking after the fact.

And she couldn’t help but think about something else as the gate opened up behind her. It didn’t help matters that he kept his knee close to her own knee all the while.

The plane took off and they returned back East.

“Good-bye, California,” Sam said under her breath as she gazed out to the northern part of the state, to that lonesome monolith in the middle of the horizon that was Mount Shasta; the Siskiyous stood even lonelier and colder than it. “I’ll be back soon enough, though.”

She had to be back there. It was officially her own personal quiet place from that point forth, even when they touched back down in New York City later on that night.

And she knew that would be her own personal quiet place, especially by the time the first of August rolled around and she offered to help Alex across the hall. It was a modest little place, big enough for just him and whatever he had with him, but she could see that he was happy to have it for himself.

Once Sam and Ruben had helped Alex move into that little apartment, even though her mother was moving there soon enough, she hoped that that would be it in terms of moving, not just for Alex but for herself. Something about moving around, especially in a tight space like the hallway of an apartment building, was too much pressure on the people involved. Indeed, when Ruben and Alex put down his new couch on the floor in the living room, the first thing he did was lay down on the cushions, still with his shoes laced up.

And it would be all the way through that month as well as the last couple of weeks of summer, the last couple of weeks before the two of them started school, when he settled himself into that place. Given he was right across the hall, Sam left her door open just so she could see him moving about in there. She kept her couch right before the door, and thus she always had a good view of him whenever she took her spot on the couch and she doodled a little bit to get herself back in the groove for her fashion classes.

And all the while, he had moved his couch towards the middle of the room, and she knew that it was because he could have a view of her as well. At one point, in that last week of summer before the start of school, he took his seat right in the center of the cushions with his acoustic guitar perched upon his lap.

“A little pre-audition, pre-school jam for us,” he called out to her.

“Of course, neighbor,” she called back to him with a little shake of her head. He strummed his guitar, and she had taken her seat with her drawing pad over her lap all the while. She nodded along with him as he made up a groove.

“Can you believe my birthday is on a Tuesday this year?” he said at one point. “A Tuesday!”

“Is that your day off?” she asked him.

“I think it is. Still! It's the middle of the week.”

A knock on the wall outside of Sam’s door caught both of them off guard. Belinda poked her head into her apartment and she showed Sam a smile.

“Hey, you,” Sam greeted her.

“Hey, you, back at you,” she retorted, and she turned her head back to Alex’s apartment. “Don’t you know any nice songs?” she teased him.

“Oh, he’s been making racket all morning long,” Sam joined in. “Such a noisy boy.”

“Nah, Louie’s the noisy one,” he retorted back to her, and Belinda burst out laughing. Marla emerged from behind her with a large white cupcake in hand.

“Aw, hey, Marla! Is this for me?” Sam set down her drawing pad on the couch next to her, and she stepped into the apartment.

“Indeed, it is,” Marla said in a soft voice. Sam could see it in her eyes that she had taken some of her medicine beforehand, but at least she knew in her heart of hearts that she was healthy. She had survived and she came out on the other side with a cupcake in hand.

She then turned to the doorway as Belinda gave Alex a cupcake himself. He stood to his feet with it still in hand.

“A little ‘congrats on going to school together’ thing,” Belinda told him. “A little bird also told us you’re turning the big three-oh in a couple of weeks, too.” And he ducked across the hall to Sam’s apartment again. She lunged for the doorway, and even though she could still see that bewildered look in his eye from the ride back to the Bay Area, she still opened her arms for him and he returned the favor. Even with the cupcakes in their hands, they still embraced one another.

“Happy birthday,” she whispered into his ear.

“Thank you so much,” he whispered back to her. “Thank you so much—I needed this so much.”

She brought her hands down towards the small of his back and the very top edge of his belt, and he treated her to a soft little groan inside of his throat. She realized that that was far too much and thus, she brought her hand back up towards the middle of his back. It didn’t help matters that Marla and Belinda were right there behind them. But Sam thought about what she had spoken about with the latter before then, however, and yet there was no way in which she could employ it right away, right then and there.

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ukai-simp-services · 4 years ago

Text

hq character’s favorite lip smacker flavors

warnings: none, just slight cursing

a/n: wow the way this was one of my best ideas... anyway some of these are kinda repetitive so bare with me 😭

karasuno

hinata

i feel like hinata would be down for one of the really fruity flavors, like watermelon or mango sunrise. forgets it at home or in your car a lot so you always buy him extra.

kageyama

kags is def giving me the classic strawberry or cherry vibe, like the one that ALL stores sell. they’re the easiest to find and he likes the flavors.

daichi

ok i feel like daichi would use the peppermint flavor a lot, but i can also seeing him use the cinnamon flavor every now and then too, spice things up a little.

sugawara

i can see suga using some of the sweeter flavors, like strawberry as a daily chapstick and maybe sugar cookie when he wants to switch things up.

asahi

mans got the whole berry pack. uses them pretty frequently throughout the day, has a different flavor in different places. like one in his school bag, one in his gym locker, one at home, etc.

tanaka

ok tanaka probably doesn’t use use them that much, but when he does, he fucks w the soda flavors. like coke and sprite.

nishinoya

i don’t even think he knows what lip smackers are....but let’s give him the benefit of the doubt and say he would use one of the sugary ones. like the skittles one.

tsukishima

vanilla. no pun intended. i just totally see him using the vanilla flavor, probably the coconut one too.

yamaguchi

i can see bby using the pink lemonade,,,maybe the cucumber melon too mmmm. applies them a lot.

ennoshita

he uses that lime flavor (i forgot it’s exact name) but that and probably some fruity shit like tropical punch.

ukai

PLEASE. he wouldn’t sell lip smackers at his convenience store so he’s like ?? tf is that babe ?? but, once you show him he’d definitely be down for the rootbeer or coke flavor, he’s a soda man what can i say. BUT i imagine he’d keep it simple most of the time w peppermint. (u also make him start selling them so he ends up trying the fruity flavors~)

kiyoko

god, i wanna say the cherry flavor bc of the mf katy perry song (pls tell me if yk what im talking about) BUT i can also see her using the mint one and the coconut one too. queen has multiple flavors, as she should.

yachi

100% one of the candy flavors, like bubblegum. definitely the cotton candy one too. yachi’s lips always taste good period.

nekoma

kuroo

another cherry chapstick lover, but he spices his shit up with the cherry cobbler flavor. wants to taste good at all times for you~

kenma

doesn't use it often, but when he remembers or you remind him, he'll usually use a fun soda flavor like from the fanta pack,, or even just regular grape.

yaku

giving me grapefruit delight vibes...idk why but he just is. i can see him whipping it out in the lockerroom before practice starts, quickly applying it before any of the other guys come in.

yamamoto

omg ok so i feel like similar to some of the other guys, he’d shy away from using it in front of anyone. but i can see him using the tropical punch flavor ??

lev

tell me lev wouldn’t use the vanilla icecream one...like i can just see it. i feel like he would lowkey take pride in it too, like he knows that shit taste good.

seijoh

oikawa

this mf uses peppermint religiously. but this is oikawa we’re talking about so i think he definitely would have multiple flavors; definitely watermelon, probably chocolate mint, and for sure starburst.

iwaizumi

he’s kinda shy about using them so he sticks to the more lowkey flavors, probably like blue raspberry or kiwi. (pls gimmie a blue raspberry kith haji)

mattsun

i feel like he wouldn’t use it much, but he’d use the lemon drop flavor. loves using it during the winter bc of the weather.

hanamaki

another soda lover. i feel like he sticks to the coca cola flavors, like vanilla and cherry. (i love the cherry one omfg) maybe the root beer one too.

kunimi

bubblegum. that’s it. that’s the flavor. it’s always on him at ALL times. like that shit doesn’t leave his pocket, he once even accidentally washed his pants with it still in the pocket.

kindaichi

mmmm i think he’s definitely a berry guy, likes mixed berry or wild raspberry.

mad dog

yes i just labeled him by his nickname instead of his real name what about it- anyway. why do i think he’d use orange creamsicle on the LOW. like mf HIDES that shit. can never catch mad dog applying mf orange creamsicle chapstick. nope.

fukurodani

bokuto

omg ok bby definitely uses strawberry cheesecake or sour apple. ik they’re like two totally different flavors but, he just DOES. and he’d pucker his lips towards you every time he applies it like “BABY GUESS WHAT FLAVOR MY LIPS ARE” like ok bo c’mere then.

akaashi

he’s a simple man, he enjoys a nice strawberry banana lip smacker on his lips. maybe even pumpkin latte (during the fall of course) bc he’s festive <3

konoha

mans is using the dragonfruit flavor (i forgot if it’s just dragonfruit or if there’s another flavor combined in there) but, he literally just uses that flavor. like idk what to tell you. he just does.

yukie

ok i love her sm, i just know she would have strawberry kiwi and probably strawberry banana too. mmm yummy.

shiratorizawa

ushijima

i feel like kageyama, he would only buy the ones he sees at most stores...so a classic like mango or kiwi.

tendou

ohmygod, mans has a whole mf collection. like first of all, he has the fanta soda collection, obviously. then, there’s the candy pack with nerds, fun dip, laffy taffy, jolly ranchers, etc... he also fucks w any sour flavors. basically, everytime you kiss this man you’ll be tasting something different.

semi

another blue raspberry mf, but also i can see him using the dr pepper flavor LOL....i wanna taste>:(

goshiki

he’s a sucker for the grape flavors, regular of course, grape jelly, grape fanta, etc.

shirabu

mmm i can see him using pineapple. it’s a subtle flavor, but its the one he likes best. i don't think he'd use it all that often tbh, but when he does his lips taste absolutely ~fresh~

date tech

aone

PLSSS i just know mans wouldn't even know what a lip smacker was, would probably just be using normal burt’s bees like most people - till you introduce him to the wide range of flavors that lip smackers have to offer. he'd be like “hm, banana.” LIKE. either THAT or piña colada, he’s really trying for y’all.

kanji

cake donut?? do i have an explanation?? nope. i don’t even know what that would taste like, but i can imagine pretty sweet? just give him a mf kiss.

inarizaki

atsumu

PLEASE. he’d use the strawberry flavor ALL the time. like ok maybe occasionally the vanilla icecream too. but im so soft rn for ‘tsumu’s strawberry lips T_T

osamu

omg he’s such a cheesecake mf i just KNOW, so he’d have the strawberry cheesecake flavor. probably use chocolate moose sometimes too if he’s in the mood.

kita

this is NOT up for debate, he’d 100% use berry pie all the time. kita get ur ass here rn, we’re bouta smooch.

suna

pls bc he’s another one that’d only use it on the low. i’m feeling watermelon,, he’d always apply it before he sees you too.

aran

ooooo i can see him using cinnamon swirl, but also grape on a more common occasion. yummy....

extras

terushima

HHH sour apple for sure. he’d try to put on you all the time so you can taste like him too, he’s like “baby c’mere ;)”

saeko

bitch omg, why can i see her using the cherry cream soda one.... i literally don’t know where she could buy it but she’d fucking have it, like for SURE.

sakusa

STOP bc he’d definitely reprimand you for using lip smackers instead of a brand like ChapStick or burt’s bees. like shut up bitch...but also if you’re persistent like me, then you’ll definitely sneak the lemon drop flavor into his jacket pockets whenever you have the chance. you know it’s his secret guilty pleasure <3

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em0avacado · 4 years ago

Text

Pen Pals - Ezekiel Reyes

trigger warning : none other than brief mention of removing someone’s pelvis, wearing maybe.

word count : 2068

Dear Ezekiel,

Her first letter started simple, she wasn’t sure whether to address the inmate more formerly, or of this was fine, but with lack of better knowledge on this, she settled on that. It all started when curiosity got the best of her. She had a friend who would constantly talk about her very own pen pal, she’d talk about the stories theyd tell her, how they were interesting and that they had, in reality, not much better to do with their time in lockup. At first, the young woman was rather skeptical, but after reading some of her friends letters herself, the curiosity started eating her alive from the inside out. Maybe she’d give it a try, what’s the worst that could happen? So, after a few hours of extensive reasearch, she’d picked an inmate and began writing, although, after the first two words of the letter, she was stuck. It wasn’t long until she realized how much time had passed since she’d actually written a letter to someone who wasn’t her grandmother.

With a pen gripped tightly in her hand, the black ink began to spill onto the page as her mind finally came up with things to scribble onto the soft blue lines. The nails of her right hand tapping against the finished wood of her desk, it wasn’t long until she ripped the paper out of the coiled notebook and started over again.

Dear Ezekiel,

My name’s Ophelia, I’m about twenty six years old, and my favourite colour is orange, because it reminds me of orange creamsicles on a hot summers day. Seems childish, I’m aware, but alas, my curiosity only carried me so far. It’s been years since I’ve actually written a letter, let alone made a friend. You see, I’m a very reserved person but i supposed that the only way of really making friends with a pen pal is to start off by introducing myself into a bit more depth than small talk. The friends I do have, they call me Oph, no one really calls me by my first name.

God, she sounded so utterly stupid, she thought, but what else was there to write? Who even knew if this man would write back? No one, no one did. But, can’t be for sure unless she tries, right? right.

However, she went on, writing down anything she could possibly think of that could stark some sort of interest from the man behind bars. She went from how the green on the trees in the spring brought her a specific joy in her heart because when she was younger her father would point out that the green in forests meant that the wild life was happy, healthy, to explaining what the saw was initially invented for. Once her hand began to cramp, she called it a day. Folding the papers together neatly, she shoved them in an envelope and sent it off to the right address before her hesitation stopped her. Now; it was time to wait. And she hated waiting.

Without a real timeline in her head on when she’d hear back from Ezekiel, she waited days, then weeks, at some point, the thought seemed to slip her mind. Heading to work each day, only to head home, check her mail box, head inside, prepare herself for the night and get at least a few hours of sleep before doing it all again the next day. An impossibly boring routine that was disturbed when she found an envelope, with blue in scratched into the front. Reading the name ‘Ezekiel’ within the first few lines of the actual letter, thrilled her. Quickly, she tossed her bag and keys to the side, kicking the door shut behind her, she tore into the envelope and began to read.

Dearest Ophelia

You can tell me absolutely anything you wish to, just from your first letter i can tell that your mind is a place of wonder. If you think anything like you write, I’d love to pick your brain some day, those run on sentences really get a man thinking.

A wide grin spread across her lips, her eyes flit across the pages as she read ever word scribbled onto the lines in blue ink. He told her anything that reflected topics she covered, answering all the questions that she asked, even adding in commentary here and there. He matched the amount she wrote, rambling on just as much as she did.

P.s. were chainsaws really invented to cut open and take out the pelvis of a woman who took too long giving birth?

A cackle rolled passed her lips when she read that very last sentence, and she dove into explaining the history of it once more. Every letter she wrote, would end in a fact so buzzard it was hard to believe. The two went back and forth as fast as time would allow, matching the length of letters, each and every time. Quickly, that ugly blue ink from Ezekiels pen became her favourite colour, replacing the orange colours that she once preferred over all else.

But, all good things do eventually come to an end, for years, they’d go back and forth, writing letters and knowing everything about one another. Occasionally letters were sent with tear stains wrinkling papers from when she poured her heart onto the page, she’d sent a picture of herself once too, one she never got back. Dozens of paper cuts, empty pens and notepads empty, pages torn out and sent. Then, one day, it all just stopped, her last letter never got a response, she waited weeks, but weeks turned to months quickly and she assumed he’d gotten out, it wasn’t worth contacting her anymore now that he was set free into the world once again. It hurt, it shouldn’t have, he was just a pen pal, a friend who wasn’t permanent in the slightest, she knew that, she did, but that bond she thought they developed was broken. Perhaps she got attached, but, for lack of better wording, it sucked.

It was now the middle of December, and Ophelia had planned what she usually did during the holiday season. Nothing. She didn’t have family left, her friends had their own families to attend to, besides, she had just up and moved to a town she was dangerously unfamiliar with. Although, none of that really phased her. On her way home from work, she stopped by the store, a hardcore case of the munchies leading her down chips isle. Humming to herself softly, her eyes scanned the shelves, tossing a bag or two in her basket before strolling down the isle.

A small, white sheet of something, perhaps paper? Swayed to the ground slowly, landing rignt at her feet, with a quirked brow, she leant down and picked it up. The man who dropped it, standing not too far in front of her, didn’t seem to notice that he’s lost it. A man, with a buff figure, broad shoulders, he walked like he’d been constipated for a week now, his phone in hand, which his focused had zeroed in on. She trapped the small paper, which turned out to be a photograph. Ophelia didn’t want to look at it, to respect the mans privacy, but curiosity killed the cat, right?

The photo, she immediately recognized the bright red hair, the pearly white smile, the mess on the pale skin and the beaming green eyes. That was her, the photo? it was the one she sent to Ezekiel all those years ago, when they first started talking. But why did this man have it? With confusion, she rushed forward, tapping the man on his shoulder “excuse me -“ she started, but her words caught in her throat when he turned around, it was him. he looked like he did in the pictures on the sight, the one he sent her, just slightly older, his hair had a tight trim, he had a few more stress lines than the picture did.

The basket tucked under her arm just moments ago, hit the ground with a crash. Her eyes went wide, her skin paled. Ophelia looked like she’d just seen a ghost, Ez mimicking the shock on his own features. “you- i-“ she managed to get out, forcing her mouth shut.

A nervous chuckle came from Ez, paired with a weak “O- hey.” he said sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

She raised her fist and punched him in the bicep “what the fuck?!” she asked, her shock replaced by anger as she waved the photo in front of him. “really?! I thought we were cool, friends? even? you said I was one of the best friends you’d ever made and I don’t even get as much as a ‘oh hey Ophelia I’m getting out talk to you never!’ ?! and you just carry my picture around like a creep?” she asked, pushing it against his chest and crossing her arms over her own. “well?”

“Listen, I’m sorry.” he said, looking for ways to explain himself, why he hadn’t kept in touch, any sort of excuse but there was nothing, truth was, he had wanted to stay in contact but everything with the club, and the deal, and pops got in the way, so it kept getting pushed back. “it was a dick move and I’m sorry.” he said, looking down at her.

“yeah no fucking shit.” she spoke, her arms still crossed over her chest, her glare burrowing holes into his head. She opened her mouth, ready to add more onto what was already said to him, but in that moment someone in a kutte that nearly matched his own, rounded the corner, ready to speak to Ez until her glare shifted from him to the slightly taller man, his green flannel buttoned up, chains clanging together.

“Hey boy sco-“ he stopped mid sentence, not taking another step, he narrowed his eyes at her, looking between her, and his brother, a smile came to his lips in realization “oh shit.” he laughed “you can deal with angry fire crotch on your own, I’ll wait outside.” he laughed, heading out and leaving the two alone again.

“Angel?” she asked, he looked exactly like Ez would explain in his letters, nodding his head, she furrowed her brows slightly and leaned down, picking her basket up again, hanging it in the crease of her elbow. “Look I get it, you got out, had better things to do, I shouldn’t have let my anger get the best of me but come on? We spoke for years, we bonded, or so I thought? Feels ridiculous now, but, hey, I hope that your life treats you better than it has, I’ll see you around.” she said, nodding her head at him, turning to head to the till when she felt his hand on her arm, spinning her around.

“I looked for you.” he started “not nearly hard enough but they never gave away your address, nothing, which was smart but I did look for you, where I could.” he confessed “not once did I forget about you, Ophelia, I couldn’t.” he dropped his arm when she stood, looking up at him.

“I know. Duh. Your memory is like- permanent.” she said, and he nearly rolled his eyes.

“okay smart ass that’s not what I meant.” he groaned. “you’re unforgettable, even if I could forget, I couldn’t.”

“you’re much smoother on paper” she added another little side note.

“Ophelia.”

“Sorry.”

“Anyways, that picture was the only that allowed me to feel a sense of home as of lately, and would be the only thing that did until i found you. That’s why I kept it.” he told her, her gaze softening. “Now that i have, found you, i won’t let you get away again.”

“sounds kidnap - y.” she muttered, interrupting him. He dropped his hands, slapping against his thighs with a soft sight, he shot her a glare.

“Ophelia I swear to god i’m trying to confess my feelings right now could you put a pause on that for a moment?” he asked her, raising a brow.

“no.” she said simply, scratching her nose. “don’t confess your undying love for me in the middle of a grocery store, please. That old lady has been listening and eyeing you this whole time.”

#angel reyes x reader #ez x reader #ez reyes #mayans fanfic #mayans mc #jd pardo

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kingexpl0sionmurder · 4 years ago

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Earl Grey and Lavender - Shinsou Hitoshi

Author: @kingexpl0sionmurder Rating: 16+ Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi/F!Reader Words: 2,713 Warnings: Language (Bakugou has a potty mouth), adorableness, Denki is a crack head, I have weird taste in ice cream. AN: Welcome to my contribution to the BNHarem SFW server collab for June! The prompt was summer! I got lucky and nabbed Shinsou and this is just wholesome and adorable. Also yes, Earl Grey and Lavender ice cream is real, you can get it in the Harry Potter park at Universal and it slaps. Check the rest of the collab submissions HERE HERE is my masterlist Buy me a Kofi! ---

There was only one thing that you loved about working at The Ice Creamery during the summer, and that was the free ice cream.

The hot and shirtless guys walking past the shop on the daily were a nice treat too, of course. But the fact that you could have a free scoop of whatever flavor you wanted once a day was the highlight of your summer, and there was no man that could walk into that shop and distract you from it, no matter how handsome or stacked they were.

That was until you met Shinsou.

There was something about him that had you immediately attracted to him. Maybe it was the color of his hair, or his eyes, or the way he smirked at you and quirked his eyebrow when you made fun of him.

It started on a regular Friday afternoon. The shop was busy as usual, the summer bringing tourists to the beaches in droves. You happened to work at a location that was close to the water, so a lot of people would stop by on their way back to their cars or hotels for a cone or sundae. You were manning the freezer case, taking orders and scooping flavors, when you heard the bell jingle on the front door, signaling the arrival of new customers.

You barely spared them a glance, concentrating on scooping ice cream into the metal cup in your hands, and then spinning around to add milk and shove the cup into the milkshake machine. It wasn’t until minutes later when your co-worker came by, whispering excitedly in your ear about the pro hero Red Riot, that you took a good look.

A group of pro heroes were standing toward the back of the shop and peering at the chalkboard menus behind the counter, talking among themselves as they decided what they wanted. You could immediately recognize Red Riot, his bright red hair held back from his face with a bandanna. To his left was Ground Zero, the ever-present scowl adorning his pretty face as he glared daggers at the menu like it had personally offended him.

On his right was the pro hero Pinky, who was leaning against Cellophane, the two of them arguing over the merits of a waffle cone versus a sundae cup. Chargebolt was beside them, talking to a guy with purple hair that you’d never seen before. His equally purple eyes were trained on the menu above you, his lips twisted in a frown as he read through the flavor choices.

Deciding that you were probably being creepy by just standing there, you cleared your throat. “Can I help who’s next?”

Red Riot flashed you his shark-toothed grin, stepping forward and dragging Ground Zero behind him. “Hi! Can I get two scoops of rocky road on a waffle cone, please?”

“Sure! You want a regular cone or the chocolate-dipped?” Pointing at the different cones you had on display, you held back a laugh when you saw his look of confusion.

“Oh no, I don’t know!” The pleading puppy dog look he gave his grumpy friend was comical. “Bakubro, what should I get?”

“How the fuck should I know?” Clicking his tongue, he folded his arms across his chest and glared. The sour look was short-lived as he caved under the pouting bottom lip of his red-haired friend. “Get him the chocolate-dipped one. And let me have 2 scoops of mango, in a cup.”

“Please and thank you!” Red Riot perked up, grinning at you again.

You nodded, getting to work on the order, passing it off to your coworker who was working on the toppings, trying not to think about how adorable that entire exchange had been.

“Mina, I don’t know why you were even arguing with me, we all know you’re going to get the same thing you always get and then complain that you can’t eat it all.” Cellophane teased as he walked up to the counter.

“And then she’ll force me to help her finish it and I’ll feel like shit later because I ate too much,” Chargebolt added, shaking his head.

“Shut up! I just know what I like, okay?” Mina chirped, bounding up to the counter and leaning on the glass. “Can I get a banana split, please? Go hard with the chocolate sauce, I can handle it.”

“You got it. Is that for here or to go?” You grabbed a banana from under the counter and got to work on peeling it open.

“For here. We need to sit and cool off, it’s so hot out there!” She slumped forward, resting her cheek on her palm. “These boys are running me ragged. I don’t know why I agreed to go on this vacation with them.”

“Because you love us?” Cellophane supplied helpfully from behind her. “You’ve been putting up with us since we were 15, Mina. Did you forget how we are?”

“I think I was trying to repress it.” She deadpanned, winking at you. “But you keep reminding me, Sero.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Enjoying a glimpse into the personal dynamics of these pro heroes was the highlight of your day. Everyone knew them as celebrities who saved the world on the daily, but it was kind of cool to witness them being normal people firsthand.

Once you had the banana situated in the dish, you added the ice cream to the middle and added the whipped cream and copious amounts of chocolate sauce. “How’s that?”

Peering through the glass, she smiled. “Perfect!”

“I went HAM with the chocolate sauce as requested.” You slid it over to your coworker for the rest of the toppings. “Give her extra cherries.”

“Aw, you’re sweet. I like you!” Mina cheered, shuffling over to give her friend some room.

Sero ordered an orange creamsicle milkshake. “I know it’s lame but…”

Chargebolt patted him on the shoulder. “It’s not lame, bro. It would be lame if you just got plain vanilla.”

“I half expected Bakugou to get vanilla.” The purple-haired man spoke for the first time, his deep voice surprising you.

Snorting, Chargebolt laughed, clutching his stomach as he bent over. “I mean, he does go to bed at like 8 pm. He seems the type, doesn’t he?”

“Shh, Denki, he’ll hear you!” Cellophane pushed his friend, rolling his eyes. “You have a death wish, I swear.”

You glanced over to see their explosive friend was concentrating on his mango ice cream at a table in the back, Red Riot beside him and chattering happily, struggling to keep up with the ice cream dripping down his cone. You were pretty sure he couldn’t hear them, anyway.

“What can I get for you?” You asked the blonde, pouring the milkshake into a cup and finishing off the top with some whipped cream. You handed it to Sero with a smile, turning your attention to the electric hero in front of you.

“I can’t decide between the cotton candy and the bubble gum.” Sighing dramatically, he scrunched his nose. “Life is so hard.”

“Why am I friends with you?” His nameless friend looked exasperated. “Just pick one.”

“That’s rich coming from you, Shinsou. You don’t even know what you want yet.”

Shinsou opened his mouth, but you cut him off.

“Why don’t you get a scoop of each? Then you don’t have to choose.”

Gesturing to you, the purple-haired man raised his eyebrows. “Look at that, Denki. I know that’s a foreign concept to you, but we call that problem-solving.”

“Shut up!” Denki pouted at his friend. “I know what problem-solving is, you overgrown troll doll.”

“Ha!” Eyes wide, you slapped your hand over your mouth, realizing you’d laughed a little too loudly.

“He looks like a troll doll, tell me I’m wrong! The way his hair defies gravity like that? It’s completely natural, too. He doesn’t even put gel in it or whatever.” Denki giggled, leaning on the counter.

“I wouldn’t sleep tonight, Kaminari,” Shinsou threatened ominously, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Great! Well, cutie, since I’m going to die tonight, I think I deserve a scoop of each like you suggested, in a cup.” He winked at you, and you blushed, nodding and moving to replace your gloves before you got his order together.

“I hope this doesn’t give you diabetes.” You said sincerely, handing him his ice cream, frowning at the sour patch kids he’d requested for the top. “My blood sugar is through the roof just looking at that thing.”

“Diabetes is nothing compared to how Shinsou will be murdering me in my sleep!” He said cheerfully. “Gotta go out with a bang, you know?” He saluted you and wandered over to the register to pay for his ice cream.

Finally, it was just you and Shinsou. You were relieved to see he was the last one in line as well, so you would have ample time to check him out and flirt with him shamelessly.

Remembering what Denki had said earlier, you smiled at him. “Did you figure out what you wanted yet? I can give you some suggestions if you’re not sure.”

Amethyst eyes trailed over the menu again. “I don’t know...”

Clearing your throat, you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “I have a secret talent, you know.”

He blinked at you. “You….what?”

“I can tell what kind of ice cream is right for you just by looking at you.” You glanced down at your nails, feigning disinterest. “It’s a gift, I guess. I’ve got second sight when it comes to desserts.” You looked back at his face, fluttering your eyelashes.

Shinsou’s chuckle made you shiver. “Okay, you’ve got my attention.” He leaned against the counter, smirking at you. “Go ahead.”

Clapping your hands, you bounced on your toes. “Oh yay! Okay, let me see…”

You stroked your chin, squinting at him, watching him squirm under your gaze. He was wearing an old and faded band t-shirt over his black swim shorts, and you could see his biceps bulging beneath the short sleeves.

“Well?” He interrupted your blatant staring. “Have you figured me out?”

“Mmhm!” You turned and grabbed a cup, walking to the end of the freezer, and sliding open the door. You moved over the chocolate chip to reach a hidden tub of ice cream, filling the cup with 3 scoops of the pale purple treat.

“What is it?” Shinsou asked when you placed the cup in front of him and shoved and spoon in it.

“It’s a secret flavor. It isn’t on the menu, and they really only make it because it’s my favorite and I begged them to keep a tub of it for me. I’m allowed one scoop a day for free and this is what I have.” You pushed it toward him. “I’m trusting you with this secret. No one can know I have this.”

“You make it sound like it’s forbidden. Is there some kind of Ice Cream FBI that’s going to come in here and arrest you or something?” He smacked his palm on the counter, leaning in and speaking lowly. “Is it like the Vegan Police?”

Snorting at his Scott Pilgrim reference, you shook your head. “No, I just don’t want anyone to know because I don’t like to share it. But, I’m making an exception for you.”

“Why me?” He asked, looking surprised.

“I don’t know. It kind of matches your hair, so I feel like you’re worthy.” Shrugging, you crossed your arms. “It’s Earl Grey and Lavender.”

“Like the tea?” He looked down at it, puzzled. “Hmm. That sounds...good.”

“It’s a revelation. You can thank me later.” The bell jingled above the door, signaling that you had to cut your flirting short. “Let me know what you think, okay?”

Long fingers wrapped around the cup as he picked it up. “Thank you…” He squinted at the name tag on your shirt. “Y/N.” Clearing his throat, he smiled at you. “I’m Shinsou, by the way.”

“You’re welcome, Shinsou.” It took everything in you not to watch as he walked over to pay for his ice cream, turning your attention to the new customers walking up to the counter.

You busied yourself with helping them, trying not to glance over at the table in the back where you could hear Denki starting some kind of trouble. You were taking a chance with that ice cream flavor. It wasn’t for everyone.

You didn’t have any kind of sixth sense like you’d said, obviously. You’d just wanted to get him flustered and maybe get his attention. There was just something about him that told you he would like it. You just hoped you were correct.

Telling your coworker that you were taking your break, you got yourself your free scoop and headed into the back to enjoy it in peace. You were about halfway through it when she poked her head in the room.

“Some guy with purple hair is out here asking for you.”

Jumping up, you forgot all about your ice cream, leaving the cup sitting on the desk you had been leaning against. Patting down your hair, you walked out into the shop, noticing it was completely empty, save for the man who was looking for you.

He was leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, waiting patiently. You walked around the counter and smiled at him. “Everything okay?”

He stood up straight, letting his arms drop to his sides. “Everything’s great. I just wanted to thank you again.”

Waving your hand in dismissal, you blushed. “Aw, don’t mention it. Did you like it?”

“It was probably the best thing I’ve ever tasted. How did you know I’d like it?”

Smiling at him, you shrugged. “I’m a firm believer that your taste in ice cream flavors says a lot about your personality. You just looked like the type of guy who likes tea and reading books with a cat on your lap while you listen to The Smiths. That’s the kind of person who likes earl gray and lavender ice cream.”

“That’s eerily accurate. Is that the kind of person you are then?” He raised his eyebrow. “Cause if that’s the case, then I’m going to need your phone number.”

Your heart flipped in your chest at his words. “I could be. Give me your phone.”

Grinning, he pulled his phone from his pocket and unlocked it, pulling up his contacts and handing it to you. “What time are you off work?”

Your hands were shaking with nerves as you typed in your number and handed it back to him. “I’m off at 7.”

“Good. Want to hang out after? My friends want to go to a bar, but we’re not sure what’s good around here.” He took the phone from you and slipped it into his pocket, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I mean if you’re not busy.”

Pretending to think about it, you teased him. “I mean, I guess I can make some room in my nonexistent social life for you and your friends.”

“I’m flattered.” He smirked. “As long as you’re prepared to deal with them, that is. They’re kind of a handful.”

“I think I can handle it.” The bell above the door chimed again as more customers came in. “I’ve got to go back to work though. Text me?” You bit your lip, glancing up at him from under your lashes.

“You can count on it.” He blushed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “See you later?”

Nodding, you walked backward a bit, not wanting to say goodbye so soon. “Yeah, see you later.”

You walked back behind the counter, watching as he left the store, your heart hammering in your chest. You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket a few minutes later, your face hot as you blushed at the message you received.

Unknown: I think I have a newfound appreciation for ice cream. I wonder why?

You threw yourself back into your work, forgetting about the ice cream you’d left on the desk in the back room. That was the first time you’d let it melt before you’d finished it, and it was all because of Shinsou.

It wouldn’t be the last time, either.

#hitoshi shinsou #shinsou hitoshi #shinso hitoshi #hitoshi shinso #shinsou x reader #shinso x reader #bnharem collab #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinso hitoshi x reader #mha #mha x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #kingexpl0sionmurder writes

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be11atrixthestrange · 4 years ago

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Waking Up In Vegas: Chapter 3

After a night of debauchery, Ron and Hermione wake up in Vegas... married.

Muggle!AU. Romcom!Romione. Slow burning, smutty, angst-fest.

Rated M for reasons.

Ao3 | FFN

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Chapter 3

[Ron]

The door slams behind Hermione just as Ron calls her name, and he's left gaping after her and clutching his marriage certificate. Their marriage certificate.

He should have told her. It would have been easy just to hand it over, but he couldn't. She was horrified to wake up next to him and angry when he tried to apologize. If that was her reaction to sleeping together, how would she have reacted if she knew they had gotten married?

With a groan, Ron stumbles to the kitchen counter, collapses onto a barstool, and drops his head into his hands. He thought that getting to know each other better might repair the damage of their first impression. It would have been nice to become friends during this trip, but unfortunately, the morning's events have made that unlikely. Even if they can get back on track after a one-night stand, the moment she finds out they're married, it'll all be ruined.

Ron's head is throbbing — a pain that only worsens when he glances around at his hotel suite. The color scheme reminds him of an orange creamsicle, and the harsh contrasting lines of neon orange and white wall paint don't do much to calm his hangover. Neither do the jagged edges of the kitchenette's quartz countertops, the lingering smell of champagne in the air, or the rock-hard barstool that might leave a bruise on his backside if he sits here too long. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see his king-sized bed — it has far too many pillows, and its blankets are all ruffled up. He knows he should straighten it out and hide the evidence of a hook-up, but his heart sinks when he thinks about doing it. Unlike Hermione, he doesn't want to forget it happened. He wants to remember it, but he can't, and what a waste it is.

Although not intentionally, he's pictured her in his bed before. His mind conjures up the image with any appropriately aged, attractive, single woman, but for some reason, throughout this trip, it's been an image of Hermione more than anyone else. Something about their dynamic intrigues him. They really haven't spent much time alone since their first meeting back in London, but their brief conversations are always riddled with tension. Not sexual tension, just tension. Awkwardness. They affect each other, and Ron is simply curious what that would translate to in the bedroom. As anyone would be.

Now he's experienced it, but he doesn't remember, and fixing the bed would make it feel like it wasn't real.

Overcome with frustration, he nearly gives in to the temptation to tear the marriage certificate in two, as if that would change anything, but he's interrupted by a knock on the door. His stomach lurches — could it be Hermione again? If so, this could be a chance to tell her and make it right. Ron folds up the certificate and shoves it into his pocket before opening the door.

"Morning!"

It's just Harry. "What are you doing here?"

Harry looks offended. "I'm checking on you. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?"

Ron opens the door wider in invitation. "You could say that. Why are you checking on me?"

Harry laughs. "Well, for one, I was worried. You disappeared last night."

"Did I?" says Ron sarcastically. "Can't remember."

"Too much to drink?"

Ron's grunt seems to be a sufficient answer for Harry.

"So there's no point in asking what you got up to, then?"

"Nope," says Ron, as the door slams closed behind them. "Can't recall a thing."

Harry pauses when he catches sight of the still-disheveled bed. "Ron, why does your bed look like someone else slept here?"

When Ron doesn't immediately answer, Harry whips around to face him, eyebrows raised. "Did you bring a woman back here last night?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Ron says, shifting uncomfortably as he eyes the bottle of whipped cream and empty champagne flutes that he didn't think to hide. Unfortunately, he's not subtle at all. Harry follows his gaze and smirks.

"Sounds like a lie. It looks like one too."

Taking a precarious seat on the kitchenette's barstool, Ron dumps his head back in his hands to rub his temples. His headache is getting worse every second as the adrenaline of the morning wears off, and he barely manages a muffled apology to Harry. "Sorry for disappearing."

"Ah, it's fine. I'd be more annoyed if I didn't also have a good shag last night."

"Oi, mate. That's my sister you're talking about." Even though they're best friends, Ron still hasn't gotten used to the idea of Harry and Ginny together, and he definitely doesn't want to think about them in bed.

"Sorry, forgot we can't talk about that kind of thing."

"Definitely not," says Ron. "If you were marrying anyone else, then we could."

"Still worth it,' says Harry shrugging, and begrudgingly, Ron has to admit that there really is no better person for his sister. "You can still tell me, though. Who was she?"

As tempted as he is to change the subject, his compulsion to confide in Harry is stronger. "Apparently not a stranger." He can't tell him about the marriage, not until Hermione knows.

"What do you mean?"

"There was a girl last night, and it was someone I already knew."

"That's impossible...the only people we know are in the wedding party." Ron gives Harry a significant look, and his jaw drops. "It was one of Ginny's bridesmaids, wasn't it?"

Ron nods, and Harry's face slowly melts into a grin. "What?"

"If it were Lavender, you wouldn't be skirting around it."

He's right. Even though they've broken up, Ron and Lavender still enjoy the occasional shag, and Ron has never been secretive about it. "True. It wasn't Lavender," he confirms.

"So," asks Harry. "Who was it?"

Ron rubs at his temples again, his head still pounding.

"It was Hermione, wasn't it?"

When Ron doesn't answer right away, Harry beams, and his smugness compounds his headache. "How did you guess that?"

"I don't know," shrugs Harry. "Demelza has a boyfriend. Luna's Luna. It was a lucky guess."

"Bollocks, isn't it?"

Harry shrugs.

"What?" Ron scowls.

"Well, it's not exactly surprising."

"It's not?"

"Well… some things are surprising. Like that," Harry nods towards the whipped cream. "But not you and Hermione shagging."

"Sure it is," says Ron incredulously. "We don't exactly get on particularly well."

"So?"

"We hate each other."

Harry laughs. "No, you don't."

"What are you talking about? We fight constantly."

"You flirt constantly."

Ron shakes his head. He can't imagine any of his interactions with Hermione being misinterpreted for flirting. Their limited conversations usually involve pointless arguments about itineraries, travel arrangements, or plastic straws.

"She was horrified when she woke up here this morning."

"She was probably just embarrassed."

"To be seen with me?"

"That's not what I meant," says Harry exasperatedly. "She's… proper. Casual shagging is likely new for her, and she might have needed a moment to process it all."

"Proper?"

Harry nodded.

"You talk like you know her."

"Well, I do," he says. "I've gotten to know her quite well through Gin. She's a good one." There's a familiar tone in Harry's voice, similar to Ron's when he defends Ginny.

"Can I ask you a favor?" asks Ron suddenly.

"Of course."

"Don't mention this to Ginny."

"I won't." Harry smiles smugly. "But she'll probably ask Hermione at brunch."

"Brunch?"

"Yep. The girls have brunch reservations today."

Ron groans, shuddering at the thought of Hermione and Lavender sitting together over bottomless mimosas, talking about whatever it is women talk about. For her sake, he hopes the girls aren't as curious about her whereabouts last night as Harry was about Ron's.

"Anyway, the rest of us are going to the pool," continues Harry. "Care to join us?"

"Yeah," says Ron. "I'll be down in a bit."

"Great," says Harry, making his way toward the door. "See you soon."

Ron waits for Harry to leave before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the marriage certificate. Even though he didn't tell Harry the entire truth, their conversation did help to clear his head, and he no longer has the urge to rip the certificate in two.

He studies the piece of paper and then spots it — scribbled on the certificate, under his and Hermione's signatures, is the officiant's name and the venue's address. Ron types the address into his phone, and his search result turns up a website.

Erised Elopements Follow your heart's desire!

Maybe he can make it all disappear, and he wouldn't have to tell Hermione anything. He saves the address and pockets his phone.

"There he is! The man of the hour!" Seamus calls as soon as Ron arrives on the pool deck — which he now realizes isn't an appropriate descriptor at all. Seamus' body is draped in a hammock hanging between two palm trees, growing from the landscaped beach that meets the pool's edge. The natural yet dusty odor of the sand mixes with the stronger smell of chlorine into an aromatic blend that Ron's brain can't process at the moment. Ron squints when he approaches Seamus, the sunlight reflecting off the glittery white sand and blinding him.

"I think Harry's the man of the hour," he says, reaching for his sunglasses.

"Yeah, well. We were talking about you. Specifically about where you ran off to last night."

Ron shoots a quick glare at Harry, who shrugs innocently. "Last night?"

"Yeah, you disappeared. We thought you might have brought a bird back to your room, but Harry says no one was with you when he checked this morning."

"Well, no birds last night," says Ron, eyeing Harry thankfully. "Just went to bed early, that's all."

"Then why do you look so rough?" asks Dean. "Looks like the sun is melting you."

That's because it is. "Blessed to be a ginge, I guess."

"Really?" presses Dean..

"Fine, I went to bed early last night because I was drunk as hell, okay? Didn't want to make any bad decisions. Now the hangover is killing me."

"Yeah, that checks out," says Seamus, and the boys all laugh. Ron doesn't even mind them laughing at his expense; he's just relieved they don't seem to need more details.

"Since you're the last to arrive, the next round of drinks is on you," says Neville.

"Alright, fine," says Ron, feigning grumpiness, although he's more than okay with the subject changing. He rises to his feet and mucks off to the bar.

The manufactured beach turns abruptly to a boardwalk, then to a loud and ostentatious eatery where brunch is in full swing. Every corner of the room is packed with tropical trees, and he can smell the moisture in the air — probably false humidity in a feeble attempt to keep the flora alive. The humidity pools on his skin like sweat, and he wonders if his shower was even worth the waste of water. He's never been very into green living, but he's suddenly curious what the sea turtles would think if they were to see how flippantly humans use clean water. And plastic straws, of course.

He scans the room for the source of his sudden environmental distress — Hermione Granger. He scours the bamboo tables, the forest-green walls adorned by portraits of safari animals playing blackjack, and the giant decorative goblet standing in the middle of the restaurant, advertising its signature cocktail, the Goblet of Fire. Eventually, amidst the chaos of the hotel's theme-indecision, he spots Ginny's flaming red hair at a round table, along with Luna, Demelza, and Lavender. Notably, Hermione is absent, a realization that elicits a sigh from Ron. Whether it's from relief or disappointment, he doesn't know.

He can't help but imagine her back in her hotel room, unable to face his sister in case she serves as a reminder of last night. Is she really that regretful?

Ron dejectedly turns toward the bar but freezes when he spots a bushy brown head of hair at the counter. It's undeniably Hermione, and she's talking animatedly to a blonde-haired woman who, for some reason, looks vaguely familiar.

Where have I seen her? In her dark green jumpsuit, long neon-pink fingernails, and gold spectacles, the woman appears as eclectic in her fashion choices as the hotel does in its decor. He probably met her when he was smashed last night — he would have remembered had he been sober.

Instead of bothering himself with the mystery woman, he takes in Hermione's appearance. She's wearing a sky-colored dress, the same one she wore the day they arrived in Vegas. It's just short enough to make Ron wonder what's hiding under the hem, and the fabric in the front crumples together in a way that draws Ron's gaze right to her chest. Thanks to that damn dress, it took a lot of effort to keep his eyes away from her breasts that day, so he chose not to look at her at all. Especially because he could feel Lavender watching him, scanning for any sign of his wandering eye as if she had any claim to his attention.

Ron backs away from the bar and slips into a doorway, obscuring himself behind a cascade of glass beads that hang from the ceiling like a waterfall. He feels utterly ridiculous hiding from women in a bar, but he brought it upon himself. He watches Hermione and the stranger pass a phone between one another, and his curiosity piques again. Who is she, and what are they talking about?

They soon part ways with a hug, and Hermione's left alone at the bar. She spends a few moments intently staring at her phone before the bartender places five mimosas in front of her. She pockets her phone, pays, and grabs the tray of drinks to carry it back to the table, expertly swerving between ferns and palms like she's on a mission.

Ron waits for a few moments, just to assure that the girls are distracted by conversation before he approaches the bar, wishing his hair was a little less conspicuous.

"Hey, handsome."

Lavender's crooning voice shudders Ron awake; he didn't realize he fell asleep. If only he hadn't jolted awake, or he might have been able to pretend to still be sleeping.

"Hey," he reluctantly greets her. "What time is it?"

"Two."

Okay, so he has only been sleeping for an hour. He's hanging in a hammock by the pool, luckily hidden from the sun by a cabana, and Lavender is stretched out on a towel below, staring at him through oversized, ridiculous-looking sunglasses. "How was brunch?"

"It was fine. Still happening, actually."

What does she want? "Then why are you here?"

"I have questions about what you did last night," she asks, running her fingers through a mound of sand.

Ron lifts his sunglasses from his face to look her in the eye. "I went to bed early."

Lavender eyes him suspiciously. "That's not what Hermione Granger said."

His heart rate stutters at her accusation. There's no way Hermione told the girls about last night. She wouldn't. "What… what did Hermione Granger say?" he asks tentatively.

"Oh, not much. She just said she spotted you with a girl," shrugs Lavender. "And that she was quite pretty."

Ron tries to resist the urge to laugh but can't and instead lets out a soft chuckle. "She did?"

"I know she's probably just saying that to piss me off. She doesn't like me."

Ron puts his sunglasses back on, mostly so Lavender doesn't see him rolling his eyes. "Don't take it personally; she doesn't like anyone."

Lavender scoffs, and Ron can't resist smirking. Sometimes, he enjoys dodging her attempts to fish compliments from him. "Well, were you?"

"Was I what?"

"With a girl?"

"Honestly, Lav? I don't remember much of last night. There was no girl in my bed this morning if that's what you're getting at." She looks relieved at his lie. "Did Hermione say anything else?"

"No, she just changed the subject. A little too quickly, if you ask me."

"Oh, well. I guess it's a mystery, then," he says, settling back into his hammock.

But Lavender isn't finished. "She kind of sounded jealous at the thought of you with a girl."

Ron chuckles again. "Doubt that."

"Oh, come on, Ron. She has a thing for you. That's why she doesn't like me."

"Nah."

"Why else wouldn't she like me?"

So many reasons. "I don't know, but she definitely doesn't have a thing for me." He knows that by the way she nearly cried then stormed out of his room this morning.

"I think she does."

Lavender's insistence reminds him of Harry earlier that day, insisting that he and Hermione are always flirting. Maybe they're onto something. There may be a little bit of flirting, but if so, it's clearly one-sided. "You're just paranoid that everyone has a thing for me."

Lavender shrugs. "I can just sense it."

"Lavender, if you really need to know if Hermione fancies me, just ask her."

"I wanted to, but she disappeared. She said she wasn't feeling well and went back to her room."

Ron leans back on his pool chair, his heart suddenly beating faster. If Hermione's tucked away in her room, it's a good opportunity for Ron to escape to the venue location and figure out how to undo the damage of last night. If he leaves now, he won't draw suspicion from her. "Well, sorry that I can't answer your questions," he says, hoping the finality of his tone will end the conversation.

She continues to look expectantly at him, but he has nothing else to say. "I guess I'll just go back to the brunch table, then,' she grumbles, after a few moments of awkward silence.

She rises to her feet and gathers her towel, leaving behind two sandy motes as she drags herself from the beach to the boardwalk. He hears the snapping of her sandals once she reaches solid ground, and waits until it grows quiet in the distance, muffled by the bustle of the restaurant. Ron then opens his eyes to see that the boys are either napping in hammocks or floating aimlessly in the pool, never too far from the swim-up bar. He flings his legs over the edge of the hammock and slips his feet back into his shoes. Shoving his hand into his pocket to assure he still has the folded-up wedding certificate, he figures the best time to try and fix this mess is either now, or never.

#hp fanfiction #hpromione #ROMIONE #romione fanfic #romione fanfiction #Romione angst #muggle au #romione fics

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troop-scoop · 4 years ago

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Mistakes & Regrets XVII

Summary: When a trip to your Dad’s hometown of Hawkins goes wrong, you end up in the year 1983, and have to learn how to cope with being stuck in the past.

Pairing: Steve Harrington / Future!Reader (like, a really slow burn)

Warnings: Swearing probably

• • •

Staring at the buckets of meat that Steve placed by your feet, you made a face, nose wrinkling up a bit as he handed you yellow gloves.

“I cannot believe I let you guys convince me into buying seven pounds of raw meat.” You grumbled, putting the gloves on your hands, the fingers of the gloves to long for your hands. “Bullshit.” You mumbled. “Can I just not wear gloves?”

Steve looked at you, before seeing the gloves were big on you. “Dustin says he ate his cat, so that means he likes raw meat, and no. You’re wearing gloves or going home.”

Tilting your head a bit while he grabbed the can of gasoline from the trunk, placing it by your feet again while Dustin walked a few feet away, talking on his walkie.

“Poor Mews.”

“You knew the cat’s name?”

You stayed silent for a moment, staring at him, hearing Dustin speak to Lucas. “I lived two blocks away, and that cat had a thing for getting out. Of course I knew his name. He was the fat orange tabby. His orange reminded me of a orange-creamsicle.”

“You compared the cat to ice-cream?” He questioned, grabbing your bag and kneeling down with the bat to put it in, while you leaned into the trunk, opening the gun case.

“No, I compared his coloring to that of ice-cream. Don’t put words in my mouth, Harrington.” You joked. “I think part of it was because he was a soft orange. . . like a strawberry blonde!”

Steve took a second, staring at the pebbles by your feet for a second, searching for what to say to your statement, because looking back up a you. “The fact that came to your mind, is weird.”

You shook your head, loading the magazine to the pistol and slamming it into the butt of the gun. “Maybe.”

“Pretty sure he’s a baby Demogorgon.” Dustin told Lucas over the headset, while you made sure the safety of the gun was on, putting it in your pants like you used to see in movies and TV, tucking your t-shirt in behind the weapon.

Steve looked up at you before asking, “Do you even know how to use a gun?”

You nodded a bit. “One parent from Indiana who wasn’t ever big on guns but knew how to shoot one when he was in trouble, and the other from Texas. . . So. . . Yeah, I know how to use one.”

Steve stood up, handing you one of the three buckets of chopped up raw steak. “I’ll never be able to think about my Pa’s steak the same again.” You said with a breathy laugh as Steve smiled and shook his head, closing the trunk.

“All right, let’s go.”

• • •

“You kept something you knew was probably dangerous in order to impress a girl who. . . who you just met?” Steve asked from behind you, talking to Dustin who was in front of you.

You never spent this much time with one of Will’s friends. At least not just one of them. And not in the 80’s. You’d spent an entire month with your Uncle Mike and Aunt Jane in Indianapolis when you were ten. Out of all of your aunts, you were the closest with your Aunt Max, but Jane was a different kind of closeness, like you had something in common with her.

“All right, that’s grossly oversimplifying things.” Dustin spoke while you tossed a chunk of raw meat onto the abandoned train tracks.

“I mean, why would a girl like some nasty slug anyway?” Steve asked.

Looking over your shoulder you looked at him. “When I was their age I was fascinated by snails.”

“See!” Dustin said excitedly “Y/n, what if it was an interdimensional snail?”

But that was where you drew the line, seeing as if this ‘slug’ really was a baby Demogorgan, then that meant it came from the Upside Down.

“Maybe.” was your verbalized answer, not wanting to mention the fact that you’d been where that thing was from. At least not in front of Steve. He was the only person you were close with who didn’t know. And you wanted it to stay that way.

“Okay, well even if she thought it was cool, which she didn’t, I. . . I just. . . I don’t know. I just feel like you’re trying way too hard.”

“Well, not everyone can have your perfect hair, all right?” You could see how Dustin seemed a bit deflated in confidence now.

“It’s not about the hair, man.” Steve told him, catching up to walk next to you.

Looking up at him, you noticed how his hair added at the least, two inches to his height. Making his hair 6′1. You never saw why he put so much effort into it, but you respected it.

And you knew that was part of the reason a lot of girls at school liked him. His hair framed his face better than a lot of boy’s hair did. Not even the new kid’s hair suited him very well. And you were pretty sure the new kid had a perm, while Steve’s hair was natural.

“The key with girls is just. . . just acting like you don’t care.” You had to stifle a laugh and prevent it from coming out, already you could tell that this conversation was about to be a bunch of horse-shit put on an expensive plate made in Milan, Italy.

“Even if you do?” Dustin asked, looking at Steve while you dropped a few more chunks.

“Yeah, exactly. I drives them nuts.” Dustin asked what next. “You just wait until, uh. . . Until you feel it.” You furrowed your brows a bit as he tossed a few chunks onto the ground

“Feel what?” Dustin inquired.

“It’s like before it’s gonna storm, you know? You can’t see it, but you can feel it, like this, uh. . . electricity, you know?” You could see how Steve was trying to put it into words with Dustin who was still listening intently.

“Oh, like in the electromagnetic field when the clouds in the atmosphere-”

Out came a string of ‘no’s’ laced together from Steve. “Like a. . . Like a sexual electricity. You feel that and then you make your move.”

Steve saw you shaking your head and rolled his eyes a bit. “So that’s when you kiss her?” Dustin asked making you laugh and making Steve stop him. “No, whoa, whoa. Slow down, Romeo.”

“Sorry.”

“Sure, okay, some girls, yeah, they want you to be aggressive. You know, strong, hot and heavy, like a. . .” You’d never actually seen a guy try to give girl advice, and while you knew most guys were as clueless as Cher Horowitz when it came to relationships, you didn’t think it was this bad. “I don’t know, like a lion. But others, you gotta be slow, you gotta be stealthy, like a. . . Like a Ninja.” When Steve looked back at Dustin you could see how proud he was at his own simile.

“What type is Nancy?”

The air around the three of you shifted a bit, or at least between you and Steve, who knew about Halloween night. “Nancy’s different. She’s different than the other girls.”

“What about you?”

Looking down at the middle schooler, you realized he meant you. And even Steve looked back at you, seemingly also curious.

You shrugged a bit. “I don’t really know. Last boyfriend I had was in seventh grade, and he wasn’t really my boyfriend, since we were like twelve. But neither really. In fact most girls don’t actually like it when a guy tries to play hard to get from what I’ve heard.” You told him, looking back as Steve, to see him still looking at you, and yet, not tripping on the train tracks.

“You two seem pretty special, I guess.” You reached a hand over to Dustin, squeezing his shoulder in a reaffirming manner.

“Yeah.” Steve started. “Yeah, they are.”

You looked at Steve, seeing him looking down at the tracks before he snuck a glance at you. But when he made unintentional eye contact with you, he quickly looked away.

You couldn’t hear what Dustin said, because you were busy staring at the back of Steve’s head in confusion, only stopping and still ignoring what they were saying when Steve stopped Dustin.

But when they started walking again, you did hear “Fagergé.”

“What?” Dustin asked, making a face.

“It’s Fagergé Organics.” Steve Clarified, pointing to his hair. “Use the shampoo and conditioner, and when your hair’s damp, It’s not wet, okay? When it’s damp.” Dustin repeated the word, mentally taking note of what your friend was saying. “You do four puffs of the Farrah Fawcett spray.”

“Farah Fawcett spray?” You picked up on the amused tone that Dustin used, and it made you smile a bit, tilting your head subconsciously.

Steve stopped walking again, turning to Dustin, his face showing that he was serious. “Yeah, Farrah Fawcett. You tell anyone I just told you that and your ass is grass. You’re dead, Henderson, Do you understand?”

“Yup.”

Steve turned his head to you and you smiled even more. “What?” He asked, still holding a fistfull of raw meat, and pointing a gloved finger at Dustin.

“Nothin’.” You told him, an idiotic smile on your face at how he acted with Dustin.

He sighed with an uncertain smile, throwing the chunks of meat onto the ground. “Okay.”

You were totally never going into that grocery store ever again.

• • •

Add yourself to the taglist!

@disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @jxnehxpper @yllwtaxi @songofcosplay @potatopooper05 @cheesecakeisapie @robinsdolan @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @the_passionate_freak @bisexualpears @ilovebucketbarnes @random-thoughts-003 @philopatris @mochminnie @big_galaxy_chaos @inlovewithmiddleagedcelebs @abbyg217 @stevexscoops @cashmereandtears @sireddobrev

(If there’s a slash through your username it means that I couldn’t tag you!)

#steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington slow burn #steve

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ribbonetteart · 5 years ago

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So this has been sitting in my inbox for a while lol

Some notes about her redesign below:

Well for starters! I don’t really dislike Cream’s design in the first place so let’s get that clear. However what’s always bugged me just a bit was that she’s (and Vanilla too) supposed to be a lop eared rabbit but her ears are actually facing backwards! Real life lop eared rabbits have their ears facing inward toward their skull. In my redesign, Cream’s ears are facing inwards and flop over much like actual lop eared rabbits.

Sometimes I totally forget Cream even has those little triangle hair thingies in her original design, so I got rid of them and opted to give her bangs that resembled whipped cream. It’s bouncy and acts like “emotive hair” (springs out when she’s surprised, curls tighter when she’s nervous or tense, etc.). I made her eyelashes shorter because she’s younger and didn’t think they should be as prominent as the older sonic girls’ eyelashes.

I replaced her orange sailor fuku with a big cardigan. I tried going for a more Japanese kindergartner outfit instead, hence the big collar and cardigan. I used brown for the buttons to compliment the blue cardigan. I thought Mary Jane shoes would look sweet, and I kept her socks as they were. She has plain white gloves much like the other sonic characters. She’s also got pockets! Probably to store candy to share or treats for Cheese.

I didn’t want to change her color scheme too much because her orange color scheme reminds me of a creamsicle, which goes with her whip cream cowlick, as well as tying in with ice cream being her favorite food. But I didn’t want the orange to be too bright either. Instead I wanted more pastels because I think a softer look would suit Cream’s polite and soft spoken personality more. I also wanted to incorporate more of the blue from her tie in her original design because I wanted more color contrast overall. I also sprinkled in more brown (buttons and shoes) as a neutral tone, as well as making her appear more down-to-earth and bringing out her eyes more, which stayed the same color from her original design.

#Cream the Rabbit #Sonic the hedgehog #mizzletea #request #redesign #sonic redesign #my art

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pyrrhicvictoryhq · 2 years ago

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welcome to the capitol — mica ( annie cresta ) and britt ( buck marshall ) !

make sure to read through our checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! oh, and remember that the games don’t end when you exit the arena, so we hope the odds are ever in your favor!

( luca hollestelle | twenty | cis woman | she / her ) oh darling, did you see? that’s annie cresta, a victor from district four! they won the 70th hunger games at just eighteen years old, i remember it being quite the event. i did see on their latest magazine article that they’re sensitive, intuitive, and observant, and that they aren’t mentoring this year. honestly, they remind me of the way the sand sticks on one’s thighs after rising from the sand, the taste of an orange creamsicle on a summers day, knowing that you were born with pain that you will never outrun. what the public doesn’t know is that they’re a part of plutarch heavensbee’s rebellion, but such things can’t be said out loud. [ mica | est | 23 | she / her ]

( jensen ackles | thirty-seven | cis man | he / him ) oh darling, did you see? that’s buck marshall, a victor from district ten! they won the 51st hunger games at just sixteen years old, i remember it being quite the event. i did see on their latest magazine article that they’re understanding, stubborn, and mischievous, and that they are mentoring this year. honestly, they remind me of the smell of whiskey in a smokey bar, the sound of horses hooves hitting the dirt, and the smell of freshly laid hay. what the public doesn’t know is that they’re a part of plutarch heavensbee’s rebellion, but such things can’t be said out loud. [ britt | est | 24 | she / her ]

#pv:accepted #accepted

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katedrakeohd · 5 years ago

Text

Christmas Love ~ Part Two

[A Very Valtorian Christmas Masterlist]

Rated: Mature for Adult Themes, Angst, talk of Depression and Emotional distress during pregnancy, otherwise this story is all fluff and good stuff.

(I suck at trigger warnings, so I apologize in advance)

A special shout out to @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria for the drake & kate in a bathtub story challenge. 😊

Tagging:

@jlpplays1 @walker7519 @drakesensworld @kimmiedoo5 @speedyoperarascalparty @furiousherringoperatortoad @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @jovialyouthmusic @samihatuli @kingliam2019

@fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @sirbeepsalot @dcbbw @desiree---1986 @emceesynonymroll @wickedgypsymoon @gardeningourmet @indiacater @bobasheebaby @loveellamae @rainbowsinthestorm @burnsoslow @mskaneko @bbrandy2002 @jessiembruno @emichelle @griselda1121 @msjpuddleduck @princess-andromeda-nazario @princess-geek @princessleac1 @addictedtodrakefanfic @janezillow @nikkis1983 @texaskitten30 @debramcg1106 @moonlightgem7 @be-still-my-aching-heart @walkerswhiskeygirl

With a sigh Drake looks around the bedroom. The bed clothes were wrecked from their play wrestling, and the girls in the laundry were going to fuss over the wrinkled sheets, but he had other concerns. Kate hadn't come back from the bathroom yet. Had he been too rough? He knew he got carried away sometimes, and today he had awoken Kate earlier than usual. Setting his phone and the bag of cookie treats on the bedside table, he walks over to the bathroom to check on her.

To his surprise the door is ajar and he hangs back for a moment to watch his wife. She was standing at the sink in her pale silk dressing gown dabbing at her face with a damp wash cloth. Her eyes looked sad as they met his in the mirror. Her gaze shifted back down to look at the water in the sink as he eased the door open and entered the bathroom.

“Kate?” he says in a low voice, his face softening with concern. Stepping up beside her he turns and leans against the marble counter, “Honey what's wrong?”

Still looking down at the sink Kate shrugs and then starts rambling, “I don't know, just feeling a little overwhelmed I guess. I was looking in the mirror at myself, standing in this gilded and fancy bathroom that belongs to a Duchess, and wondering what a nobody waitress from a New York dive bar was doing in such a place. A pregnant waitress, pretending to be a Duchess, who is going to birth a child that is destined to rule a country. It all seems so bizarre considering where my life was headed just a year ago. What do I know about running a Duchy, or about being a Mother to royalty?”

Drake reaches out and gently cups her cheeks in his hands, wiping away her tears with his thumbs and tilting her face up to look at him.

“Kate, our Duchy is fairly self sufficient, there isn't much you really need to do. And the Mother part… I’m going to be with you every step of the way, you aren’t ever going to be raising our child alone. We're both new at this and we'll figure this out together, and we've no shortage of help whether it's friendly advice from those who love us or the help of our Manor staff. There are healthcare professionals, counselors and support people to guide us in Parenting if we need it. There are political advisers and tons of community support to help us keep the Duchy running smoothly. There's nothing for you to worry about.”

Seeing the calm and loving expression on Drake's face, and knowing that he's making perfect sense, brings fresh tears of gratitude. His tone isn’t condescending or teasing just honest and full of love. Kate covers her face with her hands. “I'm so sorry. You must think I'm so foolish and crazy.”

Drake pulls her into his arms as she continues crying against his shoulder. “Sshh, you're not foolish or crazy. You're only human Kate, and I love you. You're growing a whole other human in that beautiful body of yours and you have every right to get emotional about it.”

The thin material of her robe offers little warmth and Drake realizes how cool her hands are as she cuddles into his chest. “My gosh, Kate you're freezing. We really need to find a way to heat this bathroom better. Let me draw you a warm bath, and then we can talk some more.”

Kate nods wiping at her puffy eyes and sniffing back her tears as she steps back. Drake grabs a bath sheet and wraps it around her shoulders, “Here hold onto this while I draw us a bath.”

“Us?” Kate asks quietly, wiping her nose on the corner of the towel.

Drake chuckles quietly, leaning over to turn on the taps on their large soaker tub. “Well who else is going to wash your back for you?”

“You're so sweet to me Drake, I bet other husbands don't do this for their wives.”

Drake fetches Kate's favorite shampoo and body wash out of the shower, “Well they should.”

As Kate watches, he places the shampoo and body wash on the side of the tub along with another bath towel for himself. Reaching into the bathwater he tests the temperature and then sits down on the edge of the tub to wait for it to fill.

Kate shifts from side to side, rubbing one cold foot against the other. How Drake could walk around naked in the chilly marble tiled bathroom and not shiver was baffling to her.

Drake glances down at her shuffling feet, “The floor does get cold in here doesn't it? I think we should invest in some infloor heating.”

Kate nods, “I suppose in the meantime I could get some slippers.”

Drake turns off the taps, and then walks over to Kate. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders he places a kiss on her temple. He grasps the edge of her towel in his fingers, “May I?”

Kate lets go of her towel and Drake pulls it away with a flourish, quickly folding it and placing it next to his. Untying her robe, he slips it down off of her shoulders and it melts into a puddle at her feet. Kate gasps and instinctually wraps her arms around his ribs to soak up some of his body heat.

Cradling her gently around the back he tilts his face down and closes his eyes, smiling against her lips as she tilts her face up to meet his. Their kisses are soft and unhurried, lips parting for each other under gentle pressure as they meet again and again. Once Kate feels warmed all over, she tips her head back and whispers, “Thank you, I needed that.”

Drake nods, “Mmhmm, I know. Ready for your bath?”

Kate nods and Drake steps back and then dips down to scoop her up in his arms. Kate holds onto his neck and shoulders as he turns and gently places her down into the warm water. Scooting forward a little she allows him room to climb in behind her. Drake settles down into the warm water with a sigh, drawing up his knees and Kate slides back to lean against his chest. Lifting his hand face up out of the water and resting it on his knee, Kate takes the silent hint and places her hand in his lacing their fingers together. Tugging his arm back to hug against her chest, she kisses the back of his hand. He dips his head down to kiss her shoulder. They sit quietly like this for a few minutes, watching the steam rise from the water. Kate breaks the silence first, “So what did Preston want?”

Drake presses more kisses against her shoulder and neck, working his way up to her ear. “He brought me my phone, that I'd left in the SUV yesterday, and for you he brought a special treat.”

Kate caresses up and down his thigh, raising her eyebrows with surprise, “Ooh, what kind of treat?”

Drake squeezes her hips gently with his thighs and kisses her on the cheek, “Oh, something round, sweet, green and Italian.”

Kate frowns in thought, “Sweet, green..and Italian?”

Drake sweeps her hair off to the side, kissing the back of her neck. “Remember the last time we visited Rome? We went into that sweet shop and you fell in love with the Pistachio Almond cookies on the sample tray?”

Kate gasps as she remembers, “You got me Peluso's Pistakì cookies?”

Drake smiles as he reaches for her bottle of body wash and the bath sponge. “Mmhmm, I asked Preston to enquire about them at the candy shop in town. I told him to tell them that they were your favorite cookie and asked if they could get them in stock.”

“Oh Drake, that's the best gift ever. Now I don't have to go all the way to Italy to find them. How did you know I was craving them?”

“I've watched you nibbling on bowls of mixed nuts and trail mix lately, and there always seemed to be almonds and pistachios mixed in along with your chocolate covered raisins and cranberries.”

Kate blushes as she gnaws on her bottom lip. “So you've caught onto my cravings for sweets then?”

Drake uncaps her body wash and squirts some on the sponge. “Uh huh. But you've seemed to keep it on the healthy side for the most part. As far as I can tell. So kudos to you.”

Kate thinks back to the cookies and milk and gum drops she was snacking on yesterday. Hana made sure to save as many green candies for Kate as possible. Kate nods, glad that Drake can't see the guilty expression on her face, “Yes, yes I try to.”

Drake knows she's lying but lets it slide. “Want to sit forward so I can wash your back and shoulders?”

Kate scoots forward in the tub, enjoying the scent of orange blossoms and vanilla as Drake washes her shoulders. Watching the creamy foam slide down over her breasts as they rise out of the water reminds her of ice cream. Breathing deeply and closing her eyes, Kate suddenly has a craving for an Orange Creamsicle.

Drake drags the sponge underneath the water and rubs Kate's back with it, bringing a moan of satisfaction to her lips. “Mmm, that feels so good. Why do you do so much for me?”

Drake wets down her hair with the sponge and then hands the sponge forward and reaches for her shampoo. “Cuz, it's my job.”

“I didn't know bath buddy was part of the Duke of Valtoria job description.” Kate giggles as Drake runs his fingers through her hair.

“No, but it's on page three of the husband and lover handbook.”

Kate bends her knees up and scrubs down her legs with her sponge. “That's funny. I've never seen that book in the library before.”

“It's in the special ‘Guys only’ section.”

Kate closes her eyes as Drake lathers up her hair, “So if bath duties are on page three, what's on page one and two?”

Drake smirks, as he scoops water up in his hands and rinses out her hair, “Sorry that's classified information.”

“Ok, point taken. So what other surprises should I expect on our first Christmas day?”

“I dunno, you'll have to wait and see. Oh just to clarify, you didn't really want a pony did you? Because we could always add one to the stables.”

Kate laughs, turning around in the tub to kneel between his thighs and lean in for a kiss. “No silly, you're my pony.”

Drake grins, sliding his hands down to cup her ass as she giggles between his kisses, “And what about the rockets and fireworks?”

Kate gasps with delight, wrapping her arms around his neck, “Ooh, could we really have fireworks?”

Drake squeezes her ass and teases butterfly kisses across her cheeks and nose, “Not for Christmas, but maybe for New Year's Eve.”

“Ooh, they would be so pretty to set off over the lake.”

Drake nods, “Sounds like a plan, consider it done.”

---

Later, all warm and cozy in flannel pjs and sitting cross legged on the bed, Kate opens up her package of cookies. “It's a shame I can't have a cup of coffee with these. I miss coffee.”

Drake wanders out of the closet dressed in a pair of track pants, “We could get some decaf sent up from the kitchen. Or maybe some tea. I know I could use a coffee too.”

Kate unwraps a cookie and bites into it, closing her eyes and savoring the sweet flavor, “Mmm, these are heavenly. Do you want one?”

Drake watches her lick the powdered sugar off her lip. “Maybe later. Don't eat too many of those we still have to make an appearance at breakfast.”

Kate pouts as she finishes off her cookie. “Oh fine, just one….or maybe two. One for me and one for Little One.” Kate rubs her belly affectionately as she reaches into the packaging for another cookie.

Drake walks over to the bedside to check his phone, there's a light flashing indicating messages. “Damn, it's almost dead.”

He opens the bedside drawer to fish out his charger. Sitting down on the edge of the bed he hears the rustle of another cookie being opened. He sighs and then glances over his shoulder at Kate. “I thought Little One, or whatever was only having one cookie.”

Kate looks away, brushing some pistachio crumbles off of her chest. “Sorry.”

Shaking his head, Drake rests his elbows on his knees and thumbs through the messages on his phone. “Seriously, save room for breakfast. Oh look.. it seems that Bertrand and Savannah won't be coming to our Christmas dinner after all.”

Kate raises her eyebrows, mumbling around a cheekfull of cookie, “Aww, why not?”

“Bartie's sick and they don't want to travel with him and get us sick too.”

Drake turns and snatches away the box of cookies, “You're gonna make yourself sick eating so many of these. Can't be good for Little One.”

Kate tears up a little at his gruff scolding, “Hey those are mine! We're hungry.” She rubs her belly and pouts.

Drake frowns rubbing at his forehead with his thumb and fingers, “Quit it already with the childishness. Besides using the nickname ‘Little One’ over and over again is bugging the hell out of me. We need to pick out baby names or something.”

Kate looks down at the bedspread as she picks at the crumbs around her, “Actually Hana helped me pick out names yesterday.”

Drake sighs with annoyance, tossing his phone down on the bed. “Hana helped you.”

Kate shrugs avoiding eye contact with Drake, “And Nicholas…I'm sorry, I know you wanted for us to do that together.”

Drake's nerves bristle at the mention of Nicholas helping pick names for his heir. He and Kate had been adamant that their baby was to be raised as they saw fit, and that the heir to the throne business shouldn't be a priority until it really needed to be. “You let him pick names instead of me?”

Kate tries to diffuse Drake's anger before it got any worse, “Not exactly. He just supervised as Hana and I researched names from Cordonian noble history. We were just throwing around the idea of reviving an old name that would help our child connect to the past.”

The idea of his child being named after some long dead stuffy noble grated on Drake's nerves even more. “So we could instill a sense of stuffy pretentiousness in our child from day one?! You've got to be kidding.”

Kate sighs, her stomach feeling queasy, and her baby moving about adding to her growing discomfort, “Look, it's just a list of names. It's not a binding contract or a damn yoke around our baby's neck. You have the right to veto any name you don't like or toss the whole list away and we can start a new one. I'm sorry Drake, really I am. I didn't realize you would get so upset.”

Drake's phone vibrated on the bed and he picked it up to check it. With a groan he runs his fingers through his hair, giving it a tug and then letting go. “Well Fuck, if that doesn't add insult to injury.”

Kate looks on with concern, “Now what?”

“Olivia has invited herself to dinner.”

#long post #drake x kate #a very valtorian christmas #trh fanfic #drake walker

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