#i am all soft and warm this morning thanks to you monty
Note
Hi, you’re writing is so beautiful, thank you for sharing it :)
Can I request a Tom x Reader where they take a mini vacation somewhere really secluded and they’re so happy to be finally spending time with eachother and they’re both just being super domestic and sweet.
Thank you! 🤍
Thank you my love! This prompt is giving me life istg, sweet and domestic Tom is my jam <3 I hope you like it (also am I basically writing what my dream holiday is? it's definitely possible)
Tag List : @mainlynonsense @cakesarecute @jinxqsu @naps-and-lemons @riddles-wifey (send me a message if you'd want to be added to the tag list!)
We are Mosaics
Tom turns to look at you and you recognise the determined glint in his eye and the set line of his lips which lets you know that a plan is forming and he won’t be dissuaded easily. “The Malfoy’s have a cottage in the Dolomites. I’ll talk to Abraxas.” He says it with such finality that you’re almost surprised before you remember that this is Tom. Tom who’s had his Slytherin cohort eating out of the palm of his hand for years, Tom who had marriage offers from a few of the lesser-known pureblood families, Tom who puts the fear of God into the hearts of most men. Of course, Abraxas would give him his family cottage.
You’re sitting on your sofa in the small flat you’ve rented above Flourish and Blotts glaring at the letter that sits innocently on the coffee table in front of you when Tom apparates through your wards. Your mood, which has been growing increasingly dark with the setting sun lifts somewhat when you see him. His jacket folded neatly over his arm and his white shirt slightly rumpled from the day, his hair, which he styles with care every morning is falling in soft waves across his forehead. In short, he looks like every one of your daydreams and you’re filled with a contented sort of triumph that it’s you who he comes home to most evenings. Your flat is small and certainly not big enough for you both to live comfortably, but he spends more time here than he does at his own, equally poky, abode.
His gaze flickers over the letter on the coffee table and you can see him putting the pieces together. “Bad news, I take it?” He asks in a slightly cautious tone that tells you he’s waiting for your imminent breakdown. You nod and sigh as you push yourself up from where you’ve been sulking for most of the afternoon. You gravitate towards him like a moth to a flame, the same way you always do, the same way you always have, and nestle yourself against him, allowing yourself to feel comforted and protected by the feeling of his arms around you.
“I just don’t understand why no one will give me a chance. I had the best marks in Arithmancy in the year,” You grumble into his chest. “Did you hear that Pearson got that Potions Mastery? He got an A in his NEWTS, Tom. Why does he get to do a Mastery and all I get is rejection letters?” You sigh because you know the answer. It’s the same reason that Tom wasn’t offered any of the prodigious jobs at the Ministry despite being the most talented wizard you’ve ever met with a resume that proves it. Wizarding society might be more progressive than the muggle world in some ways, but in the ways that matter to you and Tom, it was still stuck in the Middle Ages.
Eventually, you disentangle yourself from him and you spend the rest of the evening curled up on the sofa with him, reading and chatting idly about the stranger aspects of your respective magical theory texts. “Did you know about the coven in the Dolomites from the 1450s?” He asks, eyes trained on the page in front of him.
“Mmm, they’re the first known herders of thestrals, weren’t they?” He nods and you smile softly, “I’ve always wanted to visit there, you know? Ever since we learnt about thestrals in fourth year.”
You don’t think anything of it but Tom turns to look at you and you recognise the determined glint in his eye and the set line of his lips which lets you know that a plan is forming and he won’t be dissuaded easily. “The Malfoy’s have a cottage in the Dolomites. I’ll talk to Abraxas.” He says it with such finality that you’re almost surprised before you remember that this is Tom. Tom who’s had his Slytherin cohort eating out of the palm of his hand for years, Tom who had marriage offers from a few of the lesser-known pureblood families, Tom who puts the fear of God into the hearts of most men. Of course, Abraxas would give him his family cottage.
“The perks of having rich friends, I suppose,” You say with a small laugh and the smile he gives you in return is indulgent.
***
When Tom had first told you about Abraxas’ family cottage, you had imagined that your definition of a cottage and the Malfoy’s would be vastly different. You’d gone with Tom to one of the Malfoy Christmas parties once and had almost cried at the luxury and decadence. You’re pleasantly surprised though to find that the cottage is exactly as you’d hoped it would be: sturdy white stone, lattice windows, and a multitude of wild mountain flowers that make the place look like a fae dwelling. “This is gorgeous,” You murmur as you wander through the garden, letting the warm summer mountain air fill your lungs. “I never would have thought that the Malfoy’s would own somewhere quite so homely.” Behind you, Tom laughs softly.
“I think there’s a distant cousin who fancied herself a Marie Antoinette figure,” He says, stepping closer to you and resting his chin on the top of your head. “Are you happy?” He asks and you hum in response, bringing your arms up behind you to card through his hair. You twist around pull him closer and his hands drop to your waist as he kisses you.
You spend most of the rest of the day exploring the paths and trails close to the cottage whilst Tom sets up the wards. The worries and stresses of London seem so far away and you relish in the slight breeze against your bare arms and the feeling of long grass and wildflowers against your legs.
You think back to your childhood, to the holidays spent in English seaside resorts with your parents; when the war broke out, the holidays stopped. Your father disappeared into a trench somewhere and your mother had taken you back to her parents home and left the muggle world for good but she was never quite the same after. Hogwarts and the wizarding world, in general, offered you an escape. A home away from the sorrow of watching your family drift and sink into unspoken grief and sadness. You’d found Tom somewhere along the way, both of you finding some kind of solace and familiarity in each other. A tentative friendship had formed that had turned to a tentative romance.
You wonder sometimes, why he sticks around. Unlike the boys he surrounded himself at school with, you can’t offer him money or power or glory. You’ve had to fight for every opportunity given to you, just the same as him, and it’s still not enough. In your more anxious moments, you think about his future and your uncertainty over where you fit into it. Now, under the clear Italian skies, you think that maybe the answer is obvious: you fit together like pieces of a mosaic. Each of your broken and jagged edges finding a home next to his.
***
“You’re aware that you’re a witch, aren’t you?” Tom’s voice floats through the open doorway and you chuckle from where you’re standing on one of the kitchen workbenches. You glance over your shoulder and find him watching you with a mix of exasperation, confusion, and mild amusement. He walks over to you and stares at the pile of dough you’re kneading, his eyebrows knitting together. “I’ll get Abraxas to send one of his house-elves.”
You roll your eyes and shake your head fondly. Tom’s disdain for all things muggle has diminished since you’ve known him, or at least, he’s less likely to voice his opinions to you. “That’s not the point, making bread is meditative. Come on, here,” You gesture for him to take over and watch with poorly hidden amusement as he frowns and takes a step back. “You once made Peeves cry out of fear, Tom, you can’t honestly be intimidated by some flour and water.” You raise an eyebrow and try to smother your grin with an unimpressed expression. You’ve found that the easiest way of getting Tom to do anything is to suggest that he can’t.
As expected, he glowers and rolls his sleeves up. “I’m not intimidated, darling, I just don’t see the point in slaving away over something that could easily be accomplished with magic,” He says smoothly even as he approaches the dough and gingerly pokes it. This time, you don’t manage to hide your laughter and you cover his hands with yours and begin to guide him through the motions. A companionable silence falls upon the two of you and you relish the feeling of his chest against your back, his soft breathing in your ear, his hands moving under yours. Sunshine filters through the open window and you listen to the distant birdsong in quiet contentment.
Once the bread has baked, the two of you wander along the mountain trail that leads to a secluded lake. The water is crystal clear and the kind of icy blue that you’ve only seen in paintings. Tom leads you to a small jetty and conjures a pile of blankets and pillows that you quickly set about making a nest out of. You sit cross-legged, Tom’s head resting in your lap as he reads passages from the book he’s brought with him out loud to you. “According to legend, the Monti Pallidi used to be formed of dark looming rock face and the lakes were murky and black, but there was a princess from the moon who took refuge in the Dolomites and to ease her homesickness, the mountains remade themselves with pale stone and clear waters.”
“She must have been lonely, being so far away from home,” You murmur, carding a hand through his hair as you tilt your head to stare at the pale mountains that surround you. “You know, I sometimes think of you a bit like that, like you’re a moon and I’m a satellite in your orbit.” He hums softly, and you’re not sure if it's in agreement or contemplation. You shift slightly and reach for the food that you’ve packed: fresh fruit, cured meats, hard Italian cheese, a bottle of wine that you’d found in the cellars (no doubt worth more than Tom makes in a year), and of course, the bread you’d made earlier.
You tear off a couple of chunks of bread and pass one to Tom, who takes it and sniffs it delicately before he takes a small bit. You breathe a huff of laughter at his behaviour and he lazily reaches up to cuff the side of your head. “See, it’s good, isn’t it? This kind of thing is always better when you make it yourself,” He rolls his eyes but tears off another chunk, which you take to mean he is, in fact, enjoying it.
The afternoon fades into evening, and twilight descends upon the mountains. You rearrange yourselves so that your sat side by side, gazing up at the moon that is just becoming visible. “You know, I would do more than remake a mountain range if you asked.” Warmth settles deep in your bones despite the chill in the night air. Tom turns to watch you and you don’t bother hiding your smile. “I would remake the entire world for you.” You don’t doubt him either, Tom is a force of nature, always has been. He’s a visionary and you’re not always sure if that’s a good thing, but, years ago, he saw something in you and now he looks at you as though you are everything that he wants in the world.
You reach over and hold his hand, letting his touch ground you, “For now, this is enough.” You mean this moment, sitting here with him. You also mean the life you are slowly patching together, one mosaic tile at a time.
#tom riddle#tom marvolo riddle#tom riddle x you#tom riddle x y/n#tom riddle x oc#tom riddle x reader#minific#tom riddle imagines#tom riddle imagine#tom riddle fanfic#tom riddle fic#harry potter fanfiction#tom riddle fanfiction#prompt fill#prompt#asks#requests#request
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Why
I want to wish a very happy Gift Exchange Day to @mysensitiveside ! This gift, a short and sweet AU, will keep on giving for a while, in that I wasn’t able to fling the whole thing across the finish line for you today. (No surprise, I’m sure, given my posting pace over the past... um... some time.) A second part will appear sooner rather than later, however, and I hope that the whole thing will be to your liking. Thanks of course go to @kla1991 for the organization of the whole @bering-and-wells-exchange extravaganza... and I do just want to say that, as for my own reasons (reasons as such being quite relevant to this story), I still love Myka and Helena, and everybody in this bar, very much.
Why
“Why are you here?” Myka Bering asked of the dog she discovered in the hallway, gazing up at her, when she opened the door of her apartment one Saturday morning.
The dog blinked.
“Aren’t you Sam’s dog?”
The dog blinked again.
Things happen for a reason.
Myka had always been sure of that. So much so that it had shaped her idea of heaven: surely, the experience of paradise was nothing more, less, or other than finally being in possession of all the reasons.
When she was small, her “WHY?” refrain hadn’t distinguished her from her peers, but while most other children eventually gave up the incessant repetitions of that question, she never did. She discovered early on, however, that knowing whom to ask made an enormous difference in the quality of the answers she received: her mother’s exasperated “Because” was endlessly frustrating, as was her father’s equally unsatisfying “It’s magic.”
Which was why she became a research chemist, her choice of career happening for just that reason: it was always going to be a science of some sort, for the “why” questions—which she tended to ask internally now—had answers, if she put enough effort into finding them.
So it struck her as strange, that morning, to find herself asking “why” of a neighbor’s dog, out loud. The quality of any answer she got wasn’t likely to be high.
She had never seen the dog this dirty before. He... was it a he? maybe? she thought she’d heard “boy” at some point... had always seemed a little disheveled, his coat fluffed but lopsided, like he always slept on it wrong and nobody bothered with a comb. But never like this. Never with actual dirt.
She picked up the dog—he weighed less than she expected; she hadn’t realized how much of him was fur—and with some trepidation went to knock on Sam’s door.
No answer.
Myka took the dog back to her apartment. “Are you hungry?” she asked him. He blinked.
She had no idea what dogs ate, other than dog food, and she had no dog food.
She discovered that dogs ate several slices of cheese, a ham sandwich, a peanut butter sandwich, and a corn tortilla. Then dogs took a nap, no doubt exhausted from all the eating.
After numerous fruitless attempts at Sam’s door throughout the day, Myka called Mr. Nielsen, the super. “Sam moved out,” she was told. “Couple weeks ago. No forwarding address.”
“But I have his dog.”
“That’s nice of you,” Mr. Nielsen said.
“You don’t understand. I didn’t intend to have his dog.”
“Then maybe it isn’t nice. It’s not my problem either way.” He hung up.
Myka hadn’t liked Sam. He had asked her out, and she had said no, because he made her nervous. Anyone asking her out made her nervous, but this felt... different. She sensed she’d been right to turn him down, for he got visibly offended, in a way that made her even more nervous, such that she avoided him as much as possible afterward. He didn’t seem like a good person. But to move away and leave his dog behind?
She considered taking the dog to the animal shelter. What was she going to do with a dog? “What am I going to do with a dog?” she asked the dog in question. He blinked.
“I guess it’s you and me, dog,” she said after that Saturday turned into a weekend, the weekend into a week, one week into two.
And he looked at her as if to ask not “why?” but “what took you so long?”
She bought a leash. A bed. Actual dog food. So many products. “I’ve never shopped this much for myself,” she told him. She couldn’t decipher his blink in response to that information. Was it “But of course you should buy more for me” or “You should buy more for yourself”?
As it happened, he was a responsibility in ways she had not expected to enjoy. She had to leave work at midday, every day, to go home and walk him. She had that thing to do, and she did it. Her lab neighbor Abigail teased her about the dog being just an excuse to escape the lab, an excuse who probably didn’t even exist. “He’s real,” Myka protested. “I even had to come up with a name for him.”
Abigail laughed. “Sure you did.”
“Leukotriene.”
Pause. “Okay, now I’m convinced. Mostly. But I still want photo evidence.”
It hadn’t occurred to Myka to take a picture of the newly named Leukotriene, but she did so that night. She included a ruler in the photo for scale, lest Abigail mistake him for a Pomeranian, which was the breed—as far as Myka could tell, given her limited dog knowledge—he most resembled. The next day, “That’s him,” she said.
“Your dog.”
“I guess so.”
“He’s really... pretty.”
At home that night, she told him, “Abigail thinks you’re pretty.” He did the blink. “Yes,” she affirmed, “I do too.”
She shortened his name to “Leuko.” He didn’t seem to hate it. Then again, he wasn’t very vocal, positively or negatively.
She took him on walks, increasingly long ones, on the winding trails of the city’s largest park. She had never been a walker, but Leuko was... well, no: he was a trotter. A delighted, peppy trotter. Myka tried to match his bright energy, but she didn’t ever feel the same shine. It made her unaccountably happy, though, to see him that happy.
When she bathed him, he suffered it (no bright energy there), but she had a sense that he knew how impressive he looked when he was clean. His fluffy tan coat expanded into even greater glossy magnificence, an invitation to sink fingers in, and it rewarded the venture.
The best part, though, was when she would sit on the sofa, reading a journal or, less frequently, a novel, and he would lie against her, sighing as she rested her hand against his soft, warm body.
It was easy to forget that Sam had ever existed. Easy to sink into the belief that she and Leuko had always been a team. That this new texture of her life—this sneaky, responsibility-laden velvet—was a reality that had simply been held in abeyance until the right time. And now was that time.
One Saturday, as they walked in a nearly empty park, enjoying an early cold snap, Myka heard from a great distance an exclamation: “Monty!” She wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but suddenly her leash hand was empty, and Leuko was tearing across an open field, toward a solitary female figure, barking, making noise like he’d finally learned, or just remembered, that he had a voice.
Myka took off after him, drawing near at the moment he leapt—yes, leapt—into the woman’s arms.
She was striking, with dark eyes that rhymed with Leuko’s... in fact, she rhymed entirely with him, with his beauty. She looked up from him to Myka, those dark eyes widening, seemingly shocked to find another person present. “This is my dog,” she said, a little halting, as if she were trying the words out. Or as if she were coaxing them back into her mouth from far away.
Myka’s breath seized. “No,” she said, forcing the word out. “He’s my dog.”
“He is not. He’s mine. You can see it.”
Myka could see it. It drove ice in her heart to see it, to see him so ecstatic to see someone else, but it was there to be seen. It was there to be heard, too: Myka would never, she was sure, forget that declarative bark.
“He was lost for so long. How did you come to have him?” the woman asked, and Myka, trying to hide that heart-ice, explained about Sam. The woman said, shortly and with pain, “So that’s what happened.” She didn’t offer anything more, and while Myka wasn’t the most sensitive of souls, she could tell that this was not the sort of thing a stranger could ask any question about, not why or wherefore or anything at all.
A stranger. She was a stranger to both of them now, this woman and her dog, a stranger in their way, on the path in front of them—on a path she never should have been on in the first place. And if there was one thing Myka knew how to do, it was get out of the way.
She tried, mightily, to tell herself that that was what she should do: just step away. Let them carry on down the path. You didn’t have a dog before, and you were fine.
Leuko—Monty—looked at her from his perch in the woman’s arms. He blinked.
In response to that, Myka found herself babbling, “Can I... I mean, would you maybe let me... walk him sometime? Because he and I. I mean, or maybe just me. I. I’ll miss... it all.”
“I’m disinclined to let him out of my sight,” the woman said, with seeming care.
Myka didn’t have to ask why. “I don’t mean alone,” she said. “Just to see him.”
The woman looked at the dog in her arms. Did he blink? Whatever he showed her, it was enough. “All right,” she said. “Next week?” At Myka’s nod, she continued, “I should introduce myself. I’m Helena Wells.”
Myka understood even that was a matter of trust. “I’m Myka Bering,” she said, “and let me give you my number so you—”
“I’d rather not,” Helena Wells said, with the same care.
Not overmuch trust. “I can bring you what I bought for him,” Myka said, and maybe it was a flail to show that Helena Wells did not need to doubt her intentions. “If you want.”
“Thank you, but I still have all his things. Always holding out hope.” She said that with a quirk of her lip that Myka envied. Hope—what was it?
But of course Helena Wells had held out hope. Even after Myka’s own short time with Leuko—Monty—she would have done the same thing. Had he suddenly been gone, had she not known why.
The next Saturday morning, Myka spent some time pondering a very strange question: what do you wear to walk your ex-dog with someone who probably wants to forget that you exist?
The relief Myka felt when Helena and Leuko—Monty—appeared... it nearly felled her. There he is, she thought, and he’s all right. Not that she had expected anything different, but it was a relief. After a week she had not understood as a ratcheting up of anxiety, she at last felt relief.
They walked, side by side, Leuko—no, Monty—leading the way, shining even more brightly than Myka had known he could. “I didn’t intend to have your dog,” Myka started. “I didn’t mean to keep him... I mean, to keep him from you. The super can testify to the timeline, and I—”
“It’s all right,” Helena said. “I see that.”
“But I’m trying to tell you why this happened.”
“It doesn’t matter why. He’s here, and I told you, it’s all right.”
“Of course it matters! You’d care if I did try to steal him.”
“But you didn’t,” Helena said, and her words were gentle. “You cared for him. You didn’t have to.”
That left Myka strangely perplexed, because now, in retrospect, what else could have happened? “Of course I did.”
And Leuko—no, Monty—looked up at her, and he did the blink, and Myka knew what it meant: “Of course you did.”
Meeting, walking. They fell into a regular Saturday-walk schedule. As the weeks progressed, Myka’s anxiety gave way to, made room for, anticipation. Leuko—Monty—never barked when he saw Myka, but he did pull on the leash as she approached and gave her a nuzzle when she knelt to greet him.
“Why did you name him Monty?” Myka asked, one Saturday.
That made Helena smile. “I didn’t. His breeder did.”
“His breeder?”
“He’s a Mittelspitz.”
“He’s... a medium? A medium spitz?” Well, that explained his looking like a Pomeranian.
“Precisely.”
Myka felt dim. “But what does that have to do with being called Monty?”
“Nothing, as far as I know. The breeder named his litter after the stars of A Place in the Sun; he’s Montgomery Clift. His sister is Shelley Winters, and his brother is Elizabeth Taylor.”
“His brother? Why?” Myka really did try to limit the asking of that question out loud, but this seemed extra-justified.
“He’s even more beautiful than Monty.”
Did Monty the Mittelspitz turn his head and harrumph at such blasphemy? Myka surely was imagining that. He must have just seen a squirrel. “Poor Shelley Winters, though,” Myka said.
Helena laughed... and Myka felt that she should name that laugh “Elizabeth Taylor” as well. Helena said, “No, no, she’s pretty too. A remarkably lovely litter, and in fact Shelley was the only one who was show quality. If beauty were all it took, Liz would have ruled the circuit.” Another harrumph. “Don’t pout, darling,” Helena said to the dog, then to Myka, “Why did you name him Leuko?”
“After a peptide,” Myka admitted. “Well, a group of peptides.”
“A peptide.”
That was an implicit “why,” and Myka was strangely comforted. “I’m a chemist,” she said.
“A chemist.” Helena furrowed her brow. “How funny that I didn’t know that. How have we not got around to professions?”
Myka wanted to say, “Because when we get close to anything about our real lives, one or both of us backs away.” They still had no contact outside the park, and even as they shared and deepened this strange long-walk familiarity, Myka did not know where the line was. Had it shifted? If not, would it ever? She tried, very cautiously, “I don’t know. Will you... will you tell me yours?”
“I teach writing.”
For some reason, Myka couldn’t hold back her next question, even though it was not justified: “Why?”
“I have knowledge and expertise to impart. Due to having studied writing. And having made a living in the past as a writer myself.”
“That’s a good reason,” Myka said, and she thought, That’s more than you’ve said about yourself in weeks of walks. Was something different about this day?
“Thank you. Though I may not need your imprimatur, I’m pleased to have it.”
Was she... teasing? “I like good reasons,” Myka tried to explain.
“Good reasons. Recognizing them is not inapplicable to the craft of writing.” Helena said this with a funny little bow of her head.
Myka’s facial capillaries flooded with blood.
She knew why, but she hid the answer in her heart, for she remembered all too well Helena’s desolate “So that’s what happened.”
On one of their earlier walks, they had run into Abigail. “How’s little Leukotriene?” she asked. “Or I guess he’s not so little. That’s weird; I thought he was a Pom.”
Myka resisted the impulse to remind her of the ruler in the photo.
The next day, “Who’s your girlfriend?” Abigail asked.
It was the first time Myka really registered that she had continued her habit of going home in the middle of the day. To no purpose at all, she went home, stood in her kitchen, ate a sandwich that no one else wanted any of, and then went back to the lab. It was not a responsibility anymore, and it did nothing for her. She resolved to stop.
“Not my girlfriend,” Myka said, but she was appalled at herself: for a rash moment, she had wanted to let Abigail believe otherwise.
“Walking your dog with her?”
“Not my dog.” On that point, of course, Myka wished she could let herself believe otherwise.
“Pretty sure the dog matched that picture you showed me.”
“He’s her dog.”
“You were trying to pass your girlfriend’s dog off as yours?”
“She’s not my girlfriend. And he was my dog... for a minute.”
Walking in the park every week was not a responsibility. It was a reward.
And as Myka enjoyed her reward, each week, she studied Helena’s face, listened to her words. She tried to tell herself she was merely continuing to assess Helena’s relationship with Leuko. No: Monty. And she was doing that... but she was doing so much more.
How much could Myka continue to hide in her heart? And for how long?
As if in answer, the Saturday following their “professions” discussion, Helena (and Leuko—no, Monty) failed to appear. Myka, desolate at the absence of them both, walked by herself. It was terrible.
The park was empty of them the following week as well. Still, Myka walked, taking the isolation as her punishment for having misunderstood lines and crossing them, for having been so foolish as to let any part of her secret heart show on her face.
The aftermath of that second lonely walk left Myka restless, anxious. Should she try to find Helena and ask her why she had so abruptly decided against... whatever they were doing? Could she then beg her to reconsider walking a dog together to no purpose? “I’ll stop wanting anything more than that,” Myka thought to tell her. “I promise.”
But of course trying to find her was out of the question; if Helena didn’t want even to walk with Myka, she surely didn’t want to be stalked by her.
So Myka did the only thing she could do: the next Saturday, she returned again to the park. And she hoped.
TBC
#bering and wells#Warehouse 13#fanfic#Why#B&W Holiday Gift Exchange#bering and wells gift exchange#bering and wells exchange#mysensitiveside
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Can’t Go Back Part 19
A/N: Sorry this one is a few days late. I was having issues with it. I couldnt get it to flow and it had to be reworked a few times. No smut in this one. It also wasn't working for me. There will be smut in the next Present chapter. The next chapter will be posted on Friday as usual. As always, feedback is appreciated and much love. -Em
Monty and I were still dancing around each other a little, but things were getting easier. Our life had fallen back into a comfortable routine. The date night we indulged in last week seemed like it hit the reset button on our relationship again. Our alarm went off on Tuesday morning and we both groaned in protest. It was so warm in bed. “Remind me again why we can’t just cut school and lay here all day?”
“Because we need to go learn things. Helps with the whole graduation thing we are supposed to do this year.” I could feel Monty peppering my neck with soft kisses. “It’s not going to work, Casanova.”
“Shhh. Let me try.” He shushed me.
“No. We don’t have time.” I sighed. I really don’t want to get up. How was I a morning person before?
“I think we do.” Oh yeah. I didn’t have someone waking me up with cuddles and kisses. Nd begging to stay in bed.
“We do not.” I sighed again. Monty sighed. He let go of me and I rolled out of bed. I could feel his eyes on my ass, and I shook my hips a little. He ignored me.
After a hot shower, separately lest we run late for another joyous day at Liberty High, we enjoyed coffee and breakfast together. I smiled to myself while I ate. I was just thankful that we were getting back to normal again. I hated fighting with him. We both knew that it would happen. Especially since we are both stubborn and have an inexplicable need to be right. We were prepared for the little tiffs that would come along. We were prepared for the big fights that were sure to come. Forever is a long time, after all. There were just some things you couldn’t prepare for. Our current struggle was one of those things. But we were getting through it.
Monty startled me when he placed a full cup of coffee beside me. “Thank you.”
“I promised I would never leave your morning coffee empty, remember?”
“I remember.” I smiled fondly and took a sip. He placed his bowl-we had moved up from sticking his hand directly in the box, thank God-in the dishwasher. Scott texted me while I was packing up my backpack.
Can we talk before lunch?
Yeah, sure. About what?
Monty.
Is everything okay? I looked up from my phone at my husband. He was shoving his physics textbook into his bag. It didn’t seem like anything was wrong.
Nothing’s wrong exactly.
What do you mean? He didn’t reply. There was still no answer when Monty and I got to school. Scott wouldn’t look at me when we stopped to chat with our friends. What the hell?
Scott met me outside of my class. “Hey.”
“Hey.” We walked to an empty alcove outside, chatting about nothing in particular. He sat down on the bench and motioned for me to join him.
“I want to keep this short because I’m hungry. We need to talk about Monty.”
“What about him?”
“Now, I know I said I would stay out of your marriage unless I was invited.”
“Yes. You did?”
“And I’m glad everything is working out between you two now.”
“Yeah.” I was beginning to get nervous.
“I also swore to myself I would take zero interest in your private life.”
“That sounds like bullshit. But okay.” He didn’t say anything. He looked at me seriously. Oh. “You mean, our private life.”
“Yeah.”
“So, why do we need to talk Scott?”
“You need to have sex with your husband.” He stated.
“Oh. Okay. I’ll get right on that. Shall we text you updates before, during, and after?”
“Addison. I’m serious.”
“If you are going to lecture me on ‘needs’ Scott….”
“No, nothing like that. He’s just really fucking annoying.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Don’t worry, we don’t talk details. All I need to know about that is that its consensual. But he’s getting kind of cranky.”
“Not with me.” I shrugged.
“Yeah. Because he loves you and he just got out of your bad books.”
“You think that would stop him from being cranky with me? Are we talking about the same Montgomery de la Cruz here? Have you met your best friend?”
“Yes. I think, given the situation, that it would. He likes you. He doesn’t exactly like many other people. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed.”
“Maybe once or twice.” I shrugged.
“Will you just think about it?”
“Yeah, I’ll think about it.”
“Great. And no. I don’t need updates. Or want them.” We stood up and started walking to the cafeteria.
“Hey Scott?”
“Yeah Addy?”
“Thank you. For being so supportive during this whole mess. I don’t think many other people would be.”
“You’re my friends. It’s what I’m here for. And you feed me at least once a week. I wasn’t about to start missing out on that.” He grinned at me. I laughed and pushed him gently.
“Let me check with my wife.” Monty was saying as Scott and I sat down at lunch.
“Check with me about what?”
“I was just asking Monty if he was down to come to my place for a party later this week.” Bryce said.
Monty gave me a look. “And so, I said I would check with you.” Ah yes. The old checking with the wife line.
“When this week?”
“Friday. Are you his daytimer?”
“Friday?” I thought for a second. “You have a doctor’s appointment at four and physio at seven. It seems I am.”
“Sorry man.” Monty shrugged.
“It’s one appointment. I’m sure you’d be fine to miss them. Or you could swing by after.” I rolled my eyes.
“Do you want your friend’s knee to be permanently fucked? No? Then he can’t go.” Bryce didn’t answer. Thinking the matter had been decided and was no longer up for discussion, I settled in to eat my lunch.
“You could just come anyway. How would she know?” I heard him whisper to Monty.
“Considering we live together I think I would notice if he wasn’t home.” I whisper said back. “We share a bed.” I left the implication of what happened the last time he wasn’t home in our bed, but rather out with Bryce, be.
“Fine.” Bryce pouted.
I caught up with Monty after lunch and he walked me to class. His arm was thrown over my shoulder, possessively, more often than not now that we were getting back on the road to happy, healthy marriage land. “Check with your wife, huh?”
“Yeah. Don’t want to hurt his feelings.”
“You know I’m okay with you going, right?”
“I know. But I would rather spend my Friday night with you. I don’t actually have a doctor’s appointment I forgot about, do I?”
“No. You’re free for the night.”
“Good.”
“How has your knee been doing, by the way?”
“It’s been okay. Not like I’m doing anything to stress the ligament too much.” I smirked softly. “I mean, I can’t play ball. I’m not even supposed to be working out that much.” Right. That’s what you meant.
“That’s true. What are we doing instead of Bryce’s?”
“I was thinking pizza? Maybe make it ourselves?”
“Hey guys. Wait up!” Scott called after us. We stopped and turned around. Scoot was tailed by Anders.
“Hey.”
“Doctor’s appointments?” Scott smirked.
“Sure.” Monty nodded.
“You really don’t want to go on Friday, do you?”
“No. I have much better plans.” He squeezed me softly.
“He really does.” I nodded.
“What are your plans?” Anders asked.
“No pants pizza night.”
“What?”
“No pants pizza.” I repeated.
“What’s that?”
“We make or order pizza. And then we sit on the couch. And eat it. Without pants on.” I explained slowly.
“No pants pizza.” Monty shrugged. Scott quickly quirked his brow at me. I made no indication of noticing. The warning bell rang so we went our separate ways.
In class, I took my seat next to Alex and Zach. Alex had come around to Monty and I after we all had dinner. Zach was still pretty stand-offish. The Zach issue had been pushed to the side. We had bigger things to worry about recently. And trying to figure out what was going on in Zach Dempsey’s head was always a tossup. The boy was far from an open book. “Hey Addy.” Alex greeted.
“Hey guys.”
“Hey.” My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out to look. It was a reminder about Monty’s physio appointment tomorrow night. He texted me right away. I didn’t forget about this one.
“How are things?” I asked.
“They go.” Zach replied. Why the hell is he so cranky. It’s been two months. Over two. Everyone else has moved on. Why can’t you?
“They’re good. I started working out with Caleb and Tony.”
“That’s great Alex.”
“Yeah. Girls aren’t really that into scrawny guys.”
“That’s not true.”
“Says the girl married to an Adonis.”
“Semantics.” I shrugged.
“You’re a catch Alex.” Zach added.
“Thanks Zach.” His smile seemed a little brighter at the compliment. Huh. That could be interesting. We chatted a little more before class started. We were watching a video in class and our teacher hadn’t come back with the TV yet.
“Hey, did you guys want to get a burger or something from Rosie’s tomorrow night? Monty has physio so it would just be us.”
“I’m always down for some junk food.” Alex laughed.
“Zach?”
“Sure. I mean,” he paused, “I could eat.”
“Great. Say five thirty?”
“Works for me. I can give you a ride Alex.” Zach offered.
After school, I waited for Monty. He had a test in physics and Mr. Brown was still a hardass about people leaving after they were done. He made everyone wait until every test was handed in. That being said, he always gave everyone five extra minutes at the end of class to finish. For daytime classes, he gave the class notes to excuse lates in their next class.
“Hey Casanova.” I called as Monty left.
“Hey Bookworm.” He leaned in to kiss me when he reached me.
“How was your test?”
“It was okay. My brain hurts.” We walked hand in hand to the Jeep. He hadn’t let me drive since he got cleared by Dr. Marcus. I miss driving it.
“Awe. I’m sorry. Can I drive?”
“No. My car. I drive.” Oh. Okay maybe Scott is right. Maybe he is a little cranky. That’s okay.
“Okay.” I smiled. I climbed in the passenger seat and buckled up.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound that harsh.”
“No, I know. It’s okay. I just thought I’d offer since you look drained from that test.”
“I appreciate the offer, really. I’m good though.”
“Okay.” He leaned over and kissed me again before we drove home.
Inside, I grabbed a snack and refilled my water bottle. I grabbed a couple bags of fruit snacks for Monty too. We worked on homework quietly for a couple of hours. Justin called as I was finishing up. “Homework help?” he asked in lieu of a greeting.
“Shoot.”
“The discussion questions from my English class make no sense.”
“What are the questions?”
“What’s going on?” Monty asked me quietly. I pulled the phone away from my ear and covered the mic.
“English discussion questions.”
“I have them here.” He handed me the sheet. I looked over it carefully. I had uncovered the mic while reading.
“These are kind of dumb. Is this what you do in regular English?”
“Yeah.” My boys responded together.
“Huh. At least you get to read fun books. City of Bones is good. Okay then. Uh let me see.”
“The movie was still bad.”
“Shh. I’m helping Justin.” I grinned.
“Sorry.”
“Okay. Valentine’s rebellion.” I thought for a moment and then discussed it with Justin. “If you just write down what I say, your teacher will know you had someone else do it. So, work through it on your own now.”
“Thanks Addy. You’re the best.”
“I know. Night Justin.” After we hung up, I remembered the plans I made with Alex and Zach. “I’m going to Rosie’s with Alex and Zach tomorrow while you’re at physio.”
“Sounds good.”
“Okay.” I grinned at him.
With our homework finished, we spent the rest of the evening cuddling on the couch. There was something Monty wanted to watch on tv. I had lost interest in it pretty quickly, so I got up and grabbed a book. Laying back down on the couch, I rested my head in his lap. He absentmindedly stroked my hair. Scott’s words played over in my mind. I thought about it for a little while but decided a Tuesday evening probably wasn’t the best time to potentially spend all night having sex. We have school in the morning after all. When we were getting ready for bed though, instead of putting a pair of shorts and one of my old gym shirts on, I walked over to Monty’s dresser and pulled out one of his shirts. I swam in it. I changed my underwear. He whistled to himself when he left the bathroom. I smiled to myself. The seed is planted. Monty pulled me a little closer than usual when we got in bed.
I met Zach and Alex at Rosie’s for dinner. I had run home to change first because it was warmer than I expected it to be today. I didn’t feel right going to dinner in my gym shirt, even if it was at the local diner. Since it was quiet, being the middle of the week, our waitress was at our table almost before we sat down. Melinda had been our waitress here since Zach and I were kids. She was a kind old lady. She knew everyone’s orders by heart. As such, we didn’t have to give our drink order. She did let us look at the menu “just for fun”.
“How’re things with you guys?” I asked when our drinks arrived. I took a few sips of my Cherry Coke float and stirred it to mix it up.
“Things are good. The team is looking pretty good this year. School prospects are looking good.” Zach said.
“Monty was saying that they’re shaping up pretty well. And you Alex?”
“Good. Jess and I are friends again. Tony says I’m getting stronger.”
“That’s great Alex.” I smiled.
“How are things with you Addy?”
“They’re good. I’m done with college applications for now.”
“Early admission?” Zach asked.
“Yeah. If I don’t get in anywhere, then I’ll apply for regular admission somewhere.”
Melinda was eyeing us from the counter, so we looked at the menu quickly. We decided to split a couple baskets of fries, some chicken strips, and each get a burger. I got a chicken sandwich. The boys both got cheeseburgers. After our drinks were refilled, we got back to talking. “How’s Monty doing?” Alex asked. Zach’s face pinched slightly. Seriously what the hell is his deal?
“He’s doing okay. Stubborn. But that isn’t a surprise to anyone.”
“Is he ever not stubborn?” Well, sometimes. During sex.
“I don’t think you want to know. And he would have to kill the three of us if I told you.”
“Oh? Are you trying to tell us that he’s fun?” Zach asked.
“He likes to make me smile. So sometimes he does stuff to make that happen. And that’s all you’re getting out of me.”
“And his knee?”
“You know. It’s a process. Some days are better than others. I think it bugs him more than he lets on, but I don’t want to push. Physio is helping and Dr. Marcus says he should be able to do some lower body workouts if things keep progressing well.”
“That’s good. Tell him to stop by practice sometime?”
“I’ll try. I think there’s only so many practices he can go to and just watch.”
“I get that. The invitation is open though.”
“I’ll let him know.”
Our food arrived. The three of us took a break from catching up, to savour the food. “How’s married life?” Alex asked.
“Oh, you know.” The boys looked at me, expectantly. “It’s mostly a lot of asking each other what we want for dinner. Every night. For the rest of our lives.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.” Zach smiled.
“That isn’t. It’s agreeing on something that’s the hard part. I married a guy who would be content eating chicken nuggets and fruit snacks for dinner every night. Trying to get him to eat a vegetable is an almost insurmountable battle.”
“Is it that bad?”
“Can you blame him?” Alex asked.
“It feels like it is sometimes. And not really. But would eating some carrots really hurt him?”
“Yes.” My friends said in unison.
“Boys.” I rolled my eyes and laughed. “It’ll only get worse when we have kids and they’re at eating regular food age. Because they’ll need to be included in the decision.”
“And how can you make them eat vegetables when their dad doesn’t?” Alex laughed.
“Exactly!” I exclaimed, pointing a chicken strip at him. The three of us laughed.
“How are things with you guys… otherwise?” Zach asked, hesitantly.
“They’re,” I paused, “getting better. We’ve talked a lot in the last few weeks. I think we are back on the same page. It’s a work in progress.”
“That’s good. Things seemed pretty….” He didn’t finish his sentence.
“I know. And they were. We are working on it though.”
“It was pretty funny watching him shut Bryce down at lunch.”
“What happened?” Alex asked.
“He played the ‘let me ask my wife’ card.”
“Oof. And I’m guessing that went over Bryce’s head?”
“What do you think?”
“Of course, it did.” He grinned and shook his head.
We talked for another hour or so. Melinda brought us another basket of fries on the house. Around seven, Monty texted me. I grabbed a couple of pints of Haagen Dazs at the store.
Okay. I’ll see you at home. I love you.
I love you too. The three of us called it a night around eight. We bid each other good night and promised to text each other when we got home.
I’m on my way home. Do we need anything else before I get home?
No, I grabbed a couple of things. I’ll get your ice cream out. Drive safe Bookworm.
Okay. Thank you. I will. See you soon Casanova.
#can't go back#monty imagine#monty x reader#monty de la Cruz fanfic#montgomery de la cruz x oc#monty de la cruz#montgomery de la cruz#montgomery de la cruz imagine#montgomery de la cruz x reader#zach dempsey#Alex Standall#scott reed
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Sugar (3/?)
AN: Here is my third chapter of my SugardaddyLoki AU:)
I hope you like the Chapter for this week :)
Warnings: not really
Wordcount: around 1600
Masterlist
Sugar- Masterlist
Part 2
You had decided to bake some chocolate-apple-pie after your grandmothers recipe together with some Pasta and self made tomato-sauce, hoping the male would like the food.
The apartment had started to smell delicious, yourself nibbling on some bread Pietro had brought with him from his grocery shopping.
He had mentioned that Mr Laufeyson usually did not eat breakfast at the flat, but got something on his way. So you had needed to get your breakfast supplies, or your mornings would be hungry.
At least he had tea. A lot of tea and a lot of different kinds.
Now, the kitchen was stocked with every essential thing someone would need.
Food was finished around dinner time and you were just cleaning the kitchen of any evidence of your session, when the front-door opened.
You froze in anticipation and worry.
“Food is already here. Good. Please serve while I change into something different.”, the male called and not a second later you heard another door close.
Doing as asked, you plated your home-cooked meal and placed a dish where he had sat the day prior, you sitting down with your own serving in the same manor.
It did not take long for him to emerge again and join you at the large table.
“This looks quite good. Now it only has to taste as such.”, he mumbled, eyeing the food in front of him before taking a small bite.
You waited, anxious, for his reaction and could not suppress a smile when you saw him relax into the food.
He liked it.
“This – this is good. Where did you get it? I have to put it on Pietro´s list of shops to buy from.”, he asked you, already preparing the next bite.
“I made it.”, you whispered, awaiting his reaction.
You were not disappointed: His shewing stopped, his eyes wandering to look at you. He gulped the food he had in his mouth.
“You are telling me, that you cooked this meal yourself? How and Why?”
“I spoke with Pietro and he offered to get the ingredients, what he did. I found the utensils in the cupboards.”
“Well, that explains how, but not why.”
“I, I didn´t know what to get, and I like to cook. It is also cheaper-”, the last part was only a whisper, but he still heard it.
“I don´t think I need to have an eye on how much money I spend for food and take-outs.”
“I apologize Mr Laufeyson.”, you quickly added, averting your eyes.
“It is quite delicious.”, he continued, “Well done.”
Warmth spread through your veins upon hearing the males praise and you couldn´t suppress a shy smile.
“You may cook more often. Now, if you would excuse me, I have an early meeting tomorrow and therefore will go to bed now.”, he declared, already standing up.
“I- there is dessert.”, you quickly stated, “I mean- if you want. I can but it in the fridge. The pie might not taste as good as now, but still good.”
“You made pie?”, he mused, sitting down again, “What kind of pie.”
“Apple chocolate after my grandma´s recipe.”, you whispered.
He stayed silent and you took it as a sign to serve the desert. Gathering the used dishes, you placed them aside and got the pie out of the oven to plate it with some powdered sugar.
Mr Laufeyson looked at for a few second, before taking a very small piece onto his fork and eating it.
His face kept neutral, though he ate it all.
“As I said. I will be retreating for the night. Tomorrow morning the cleaning service will come to clean the apartment. Just as a heads-up. Have a good night.”
And with that, the man retreated to his quarters.
Well, better get the kitchen cleaned and then to bed.
Thanks to the fact that you had already cleaned most of the things after using them, the kitchen was spotless within ten minutes with the leftovers secured within the fridge. Labeled with the date you had cooked them.
It was nearly enough to feed one more person.
Shutting off the light, within the main area, you stepped into your bedroom, only to stop short; on your bed were four black boxes with silver ribbons.
Presents.
When did he get them in here? What is in there?
Slowly you approached your bed, letting your fingers brush over the soft fabric of the ribbons, once you were able to.
The boxes had the Ásgard´-logo imprinted into the top.
More clothes? But-
With gentle hands, you opened the first bow and then box.
Is that Lingerie? What does this mean?
Shocked, you lifted the first pair of clothes out of the box. It wasn´t lingerie as you first thought, it was a nightdress.
Does he expect me to wear this?
Quickly you opened the other boxes as well, and the next two contained a similar kind of clothing.
That was, until you opened the last box and a relieved sigh escaped your lungs. Your eyes fell onto some new shirts and boxer-shorts. First were made of extremely soft cotton, last were made of silk.
You just had to wear them, the leggings and shirt you had worn previously had been to warm for your liking and felt wrong to your skin beneath the covers.
Ready for bed, you placed the boxes into the walk-in. You would sort them away in the morning.
With your mobile phone charging and the alarm set for 6:30am, you closed your eyes to sleep.
You woke up with the alarm and decided it was a good day to start with a shower.
Dressed as casually as possible, you made your way to the kitchen area with still wet hair.
You were surprised to see Mr Laufeyson already sitting there.
“Good morning.”, you mumbled.
“Good Morning. I did not thought I would see you this early.”, he greeted you in return, sipping on his tea.
“I am used to get up early to do work.”, you admitted, preparing your own breakfast with the stuff Pietro got you the day prior.
“I see. Pietro will drive me to work this morning. I have a conference call with some important people. After that he can drive you wherever you want. There is a credit card on the little table next to your door. It has an allowance of 10.000$ a week. I may allow you to use more, should I see it necessary and you ask me beforehand. You need to have your ID with you though. Otherwise the card will not be accepted.”
He spoke almost bored, like that sum of money were just peanuts.
“Ten-thousand a week?”,you stated with huge eyes.
“Not enough?”
“Too much. Tha- thats more than I made in four months working. Wha- what should I do with that much?”, you quickly explained.
“Buy what you want, as long as you don´t buy at the opponents shops. The cleaning crew will be working from 10 to 12am. See you sometime today.”, and with that, the sharp dressed man left.
Leaving you with no idea what you should do with your day.
Sighting, you grabbed the offered card and stared at it for a long time.
I could visit Bob and Monty, maybe get them some food or things they need. And then buy stuff for the shelter. At least I would do good with all this money.
You still did not want pity money and felt dirty accepting it.
Using your new phone (because you couldn´t find a pen and some paper to make notes), you wrote stuff you though you should get to not accidentally forget something.
It got rather long, and you hoped you would be able to get all this without renting a truck.
“And I need some reeeeeaally simple stuff to wear.”, you mumbled.
The ringing of your phone caught your attention. Pietro was calling you.
“Good Morning. How can I help you?”, you greeted him politely, just like you had done with your customers just a few days ago.
“(y/n), It´s Pietro. Boss said to call you once I am free. Soooo, I am free. Any idea what you want to do? I can drive you wherever you want.”, the young man´s voice came out of the speaker.
“Thank you, that would be nice. I have a few stops I would like to make- if that is not too much trouble.”, you smiled into the phone.
“Not at all, I would just be earning my money. I will be at the tower in the next ten minutes. If you want, you can wait in the lobby. I will come and get you.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“No worries. See you in Ten.”, and with that the line went dead.
“Well .. then let´s get down there I guess.”, you mumbled, grabbing your phone and wallet, you got on your way down to the lobby.
It was rustling with live and you searched for a calmer area to wait for the blond young men.
You felt out of place and feared they would kick you out any second now, but instead, your phone rang again and you accepted Pietro´s call.
“I am up front. Are you ready to go?”
“I am coming out, give me a second.”
“Sure, it´s the black Dodge SUV.”
“Got it.”
Part 4
AN2.0 Well, Loki seemed to like her food.
What do you think she will do with all the money?
REBLOGS and comments are appreciated, though any request of a SUGARDADDY looking for a Baby will be deleted… just like the last 30 in the first two parts…..
Thank you very much.
~MaggY
Taglists:
Permanent:
@jadepc@pacifyhxlsey @thankyoukarenclifford
@thankyouforanonymity @punkrockhufflefluff
@scarletraine @buckycaptspideypool @markusstraya @graveyard-groupie @markusstrayya @randomgirlkensy @the-soulofdevil
MCU:
@yknott81 @banner-and-bucky-are-life @forext20 @dyanlzbb @so-finster-die-nacht @emmii4 @bitchwhytho @ladyofmyst @jilldsumner @momc95 @appreciating-fanfics
Sugar:
@bits-and-bobs-and-kawaii-stuffs @mimmie666 @fullranchwolfoperator
@cluelessnitwhit @youknowitsclouds @his-paradox @purplerainharry
@spootgaai2000 @iamsuperjenna @nikkipea @alexakeyloveloki
I couldnt tag a few of you… sorry.
Want to get tagged as well? Comment, Reblog or send an ask to let me know.
#sugardaddy!loki#sugardaddy Loki x Reader#reader#sugardaddy au#Loki#Loki Laufeyson#MCU#Marvel#Reader insert
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day 5 was fun!!!! we could all do with some happy cass!!!
CASSANDRA APPRECIATION WEEK DAY 5 - HAPPINESS
Happiness can be so many things, depending on who you ask. For Cassandra, it has changed over time.
It started with watching the sparks fly in Xavier's forge, it was crouching with her ear pressed against the door listening to her father talk about guard formation, it was sitting cross-legged on her bed drawing map after map of the castle, perfecting her cartography and wondering about what would come next. It was learning how to ride a horse, getting an extra toffee apple from Uncle Monty “just for being such a loyal customer”, it was the rare times she was invited to drink tea with the queen who watched her fondly, like maybe she would her own daughter some day.
Then as she grew older it was admiring her father's second-in-command, a tall butch nearing retirement, scribbling her feelings in letters that would never be sent, asking for the woman to help Cass with her form while she sparred. It was wishing she was grown up already so she could be as cool, as confident, as trusted. It was mastering weaponry, polishing the armour of the guard with her dad on rainy afternoon when training was cancelled, listening to his stories and wondering if she'd ever have some of her own one day, where she could be the hero and someone else would be listening with bated breath.
Happiness turned into something new entirely when she met Rapunzel.
Happiness was watching her kick ass. It was blackberry buns and friendship bracelets and learning to swim. It was long days at the lagoon, early mornings treading water, afternoons on the shores drying in the sun, late evenings sneaking in a quick sparring practice before picking their way back to the castle in time for Rapunzel's supper with her parents. It was opening herself up to someone who liked her for all the things she was told to conceal. It was warm eyes and soft hair and almost-kissable lips, begging her not to go.
Then... there wasn't really a whole lot. Did happiness come from the moonstone? Perhaps Cass found some misguided happiness from being taken seriously for once in her life. Maybe it did feel good just to let all her feelings fly, but between the continuous heartbreaks, the betrayals, and all the destruction left in her wake? Not so much.
Well. No use thinking about that now.
On her way back to Corona for the first time since she left for her journey, Cass stops by the lagoon. It feels a little weird, visiting without Rapunzel, almost like she shouldn't be here at all. It's never been hers alone – and so to be here alone is a surreal experience in itself. Well, if she can even call it a lone journey considering that Fidella and Owl have joined her.
Fidella is happy to stand in the shallows to keep cool while Owl stretches his wings, circling the skies above. Cass sits for a while, just basking in the sun. There's an almost dry heat, unusual for May, that bakes the lagoon slowly. Rolling waves of heat shimmer just above the water's surface, watches how the light dances with each rolling wave. She doesn't have much time to kill before heading off if she wants to make it back to the kingdom in time, but... there's something missing. Something she feels she can't return without.
See, happiness is Rapunzel, in a strange sort of way. For all of the grief they've shared, the anger they've hurled at each other, Cass loves her. So much. Likewise, Rapunzel loves her. Seeing her for the first time since her journey began will be... well, it'll be nerve-wracking to say the least. The letters they've exchanged while on the road have been tentative, neither one of them quite sure how to express their feelings through the coldness of pen and paper. Sure, they're more than friends now, and they and all their friends know that, but for what its worth they haven't actually really spent time together yet. Cass wants to do something; something strong, something meaningful, to make up for the distance.
So she goes swimming for stones.
The water is cool, a shock to her system after travelling in such warm, dry weather. Fidella watches her in amusement as she dives to the bottom, reaching for stones, bringing them to the surface in handfuls to examine the ones that will look just right for her gift. Happiness is moments like these, where nothing and no one in the world is keeping her from pursuing her goal. Happiness is what comes after too, floating on the surface in a starfish formation with the rocks piled safely on the sure, warmth beating down on her. She knows she can't stay here forever; along with the countdown until her expected return there's the risk of sunburn, and wouldn't that be an unsightly way to greet Raps after all this time? But still – just for a little while, with the sun on her face, warming her through and through, this is happiness.
…
Sometimes happiness takes a village – or in this case, a kingdom. Case in point, the whole of Corona is buzzing with anticipation for Rapunzel's birthday banquet tonight.
Cass has kept the plan of her return a secret to Rapunzel these last few weeks, at the request of Eugene – something that surprised her initially. She supposes at this point, after all the three of them have been through, it shouldn't be surprising that he wants her to be equally present in Rapunzel's life. Still, the gesture was oddly touching to her. What would that feeling be? Could happiness be acknowledgement, too?
Once he smuggles her into the throne room, grin wide as he poked fun at her new smattering of facial scars from life on the road, Cass is soon put to work. First comes the arrangement of the purple and gold balloons, the hanging of the banner, organisation of the gift piles. Then the entertainment is set up – a small, bare bones string quartet hold a short rehearsal that further invigorates the staff and guests. Cass then has her ear talked off by Kiera and Catalina, both enamoured by her new collection of battle scars, while they assist with the flower arrangements. Finally, after every table has been laid and the majority of staff have cleared out to take a brief rest before the celebration commences, a paper lantern is pressed into Cassandra's hands.
She looks up, and to her surprise, it is Queen Arianna handing her the lantern, with a warm smile she most often reserves for her own daughter.
“My Queen,” Cass says hurriedly, bowing her head in greeting.
“Cassandra,” she says, in a saccharine-sweet tone. “It's wonderful to have you back. Eugene did let me know of your secret arrangement, so I was hoping to say hello before the festivities begin.”
“It's good to be back. And I wouldn't miss Rapunzel's birthday for anything. Even after... all that I did, I hope it's all right that I came back.”
“The King still has some reservations,” Arianna muses, taking her own lantern in her hands. She takes a prepared letter from her robe pocket and rolls it up, securing it with a rich purple ribbon before slipping it inside the lantern. “But he isn't the most... adept to change. He will come around. And both Rapunzel and I see no problem with you returning. Corona will be your home for as long as you see it that way, and I can't think of a worse thing to do than turn you away from your home.”
Warmth blooms in Cassandra's chest, and she nods quickly, looking away. It's not easy, letting herself talk normally to the people around her who still remember the rampage she lead this time last year. But she isn't that person anymore. And to say that is more than just donning new scars and wearing new clothes. She doesn't spit fire at the drop of a hat anymore. She doesn't push people away. Everything is a conscious effort, of course, but just by doing so she knows she's moved past being the broken soul she was before.
“I can't wait to see her,” sighs Cass. “We've been in touch, but she's so much more in person.”
Arianna cracks a smile. “She'll be over the moon to see you too. Although Rapunzel tries not to show it, I can tell she's been sorely disappointed at the very notion that she might spend her birthday without you here to celebrate it with her.”
Cass blushes to her roots, but tries her best to keep her face unreadable. Still, it must be fairly obvious. Sometimes happiness is just knowing that Rapunzel misses her, thinks about her, wishes for her to appear.
“I had... hoped to visit for her birthday, but it's Eugene who actually reached out to me and convinced me to return.”
“Well, he wants what's best for Rapunzel,” Arianna says sagely, “and I can't imagine anyone she would want at her side more than the two of you.”
Now Cass knows her blush is unmistakable.
“Has Rapunzel... talked to you about how we left things?” she dares to ask, already feeling a little dizzy from the high stakes of this conversation.
“She has. And... it was me who told her that only she could decide what kind of queen she would one day become, and it's something I stand by. The company she keeps, and the nature of the relationships, are things that the three of you will have to talk about more publicly some day. For now, however, I'll just offer my congratulations, and my blessing.” Her eyes twinkle, and in this moment Cass feels seen, in a way she's just not used to.
“Thank you,” she whispers, mouth dry.
“From what I've seen, I think the three of you bring out the best in each other, and that's a remarkable quality for a relationship to have. A kingdom needs strong foundations to run smoothly, after all.”
“I, um... I want to do right by her,” Cass says quietly, hugging her lantern to her chest. “I wasn't in a good place before, but finding my own way in the world has changed me for the better, and it's something I don't think I could have done without Rapunzel. So, I want to be there for her too.”
“As long as you're happy, Cassandra,” Arianna says simply, a beaming smile on her face. After a pause, she adds, “And are you? Happy, I mean?”
Cass, with a grin of her own, nods.
“I – yes. I am.”
“Well then,” Arianna continues, sunny as ever, “I am overjoyed for you, my dear. I only hope you channel some of that happiness into your lantern message.”
She is soon called away to give her opinion on the royal table's flower arrangement, and Cass stares at her blank lantern, unsure of where to start. She's never been great at decorating, so it won't be pretty. As a kid she used to write some incomprehensible nonsense about how it was her dream to rescue the lost princess herself, but... well, that dream hadn't quite panned out like she'd pictured growing up.
In the end, she just writes from her heart.
I love you, Raps. And for as long as the sun shines, I will never stop.
It's short, it's just sappy enough without being overkill, and it's all hers.
Cassandra sets it to one side, and then Varian bursts into the room, shouting, “Everyone get down and dim the lights, she'll be here any minute!”
Eugene waves her over to join him and Lance, who are waiting right by the heavy doors with grins a mile wide, and Cass heads over with a spring in her step. She sticks a hand in her pocket, feeling her present inside – two bracelets, threaded with great difficulty on her part, to replace the one that had been destroyed all those years ago.
“You ready?” Eugene asks, all smiles as she crouches down at his side.
Happiness is knowing that any moment, she will walk through that door.
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Merry and Bright
Summary: Bellamy convinces Clarke to be his fake date for a Christmas party because his ex will be bringing her new boyfriend. Things don't go to plan, for a number of reasons, but it turns out to be for the best anyway.
Pairing: Bellarke
Words: 2042
This is my gift for @kombellarke for the Bellarke Secret Santa 2019 for their request of modern au fake dating. I hope you enjoy it!
You can read it on AO3 here
“So remind me again why I agreed to this ridiculousness?”
Bellamy looked down at her with a smirk and looped his arm around her shoulders, tugging her closer to him. “Because O said Echo is bringing her new boyfriend to the party and I don’t want her to think I’m not over her. Because I am.”
Clarke made sure he saw her rolling her eyes as she huddled into him, stealing his body heat for herself. “Right, of course. And in your infinite wisdom, you decided that the best course of action was to pretend we’re dating. And somehow you convinced me to go along with it, which I’m still lost on. I think I blacked out when I agreed to this.”
“Nah, you couldn’t say no to months of massages from my magic fingers,” he told her with an eyebrow wiggle. She tried to glare up at him, but was betrayed by her mouth fighting to break into a grin.
“Could you have made it sound any dirtier? Don’t answer that,” she ordered when he opened his mouth with a mischievous look on his face. “Also, you could have easily prevented this if you had just told your sister, you know, the one hosting the Christmas party?, if you’d just told her not to invite your ex-girlfriend. But noooo, that would be too logical for Bellamy Blake, melodramatic grump extraordinaire.”
“She’s Lincoln’s cousin and the rest of their family lives hundreds of miles away. If I asked O to not invite Echo, she’d be convinced I was trying to ‘ruin Christmas’ for her boyfriend or something, and it’d turn into some huge debacle that actually would ruin Christmas.”
“And here I thought I was missing out all these years, stuck in my mom’s house not celebrating much of anything. Turns out I was just being spared the drama of friends and family during the holidays. Who knew!”
“Yeah, yeah, Princess, laugh it up, just remember to go along with it at the party.”
Clarke squeezed his fingers that were wrapped around her shoulder, feeling an inexplicable surge of fondness for the silly man. “You know I will.”
What Bellamy didn’t know was that she wasn’t doing this for massages, or to tease him (well, a little to tease him). She was helping him because she loved him, and she would always do anything she could to help him with anything he wanted. If she got to cuddle up to him for a night, she sure wasn’t going to complain. Abby wasn’t the best mom, but she didn’t raise a fool.
He squeezed her fingers back, and they continued the walk to Octavia and Lincoln’s apartment in silence, trying to keep warm as snow softly drifted down from the sky.
When they arrived, the atmosphere was warm and cheery. The heater was on full blast, which Clarke’s frozen nose particularly appreciated. O had done a great job decorating the apartment festively. There were arrangements of pine, holly berries, and poinsettias tied with red ribbon. Garland with red and gold ornaments of various sizes hung over all the doorways and along the mantle, which also had stockings lined up along it. There were several small trees dotted around that were decked out in red and gold, and one huge tree in the main room that was dripping in ornaments and had presents piled under it. The air was filled with Christmas songs playing softly, and the scent of freshly baked sugar cookies.
O had gone all out this year, and it was easy to see how she’d made a career of decorating parties and other events.
“Bell! Clarke! You guys are finally here!” The hostess herself appeared as though summoned, and launched herself at Bellamy like she was still six years old and knew her big brother could do anything.
He caught her, of course, and pulled her into a bear hug like he hadn’t seen her in years rather than two days. Clarke smiled at the scene as she unwound her scarf and took off her coat, hanging them on the coat rack by the door.
After a moment, Octavia turned to her with a beaming grin and pulled her into a crushing hug of her own. Clarke laughed and returned the embrace.
“It’s so good to see you guys! You’re the last ones to arrive, I’m sure that’s Bell’s fault,” she exclaimed all in one breath, ignoring her brother’s scoff in the background.
“It’s good to see you too, O, even though I just saw you last night you know,” Clarke teased her friend.
Octavia was unrepentant. “Yeah, but it’s Christmas Eve! It’s the time for family to all gather together and enjoy spending time with each other.”
“Yeah, squirt, it is,” Bellamy agreed with a fond expression, reaching over to try and ruffle her hair.
Octavia leapt back with a shriek, going from grinning to glaring in a second. “Don’t you dare, Bellamy Blake.”
“Octavia?” Lincoln’s voice could be heard calling from somewhere in the apartment. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with the pie, but I don’t think it should be green?”
“Green? It’s a pecan pie, why would it-” Octavia gasped, eyes widening before narrowing in fury.
“If Jasper and Monty screwed with my pie, they’ll learn hell hath no fury like a Blake scorned.” With that she took off for the kitchen, hollering something back to Lincoln as she went.
“Well, that was exciting, huh?” Bellamy asked her with a grin, wrapping his arm around her waist as they made their way into the main room. Clarke wound her arm around him and returned his grin, feeling warm and happy, never having felt so content as she felt now in Bellamy’s arms.
She was about to answer when there was a soft throat clearing. They both looked up and saw Echo standing in front of them with a muscle-bound mountain of a man beside her.
“Hello Bellamy, Clarke. It’s good to see you again,” the woman said, clearly feeling awkward but determined to push through it. Clarke, despite not knowing Echo very well, could respect that.
“Hey, Echo. I’m glad you could make it tonight, it looks like O really outdid herself this year,” Clarke said with what she hoped was a friendly smile. She’d been accused in the past of having a resting bitch face, and didn’t want to make Echo feel unwelcome, despite the awkwardness of her being Bellamy’s ex.
Echo gave her a small but genuine smile, and gestured to the man beside her. “Thank you, and you’re right, Octavia did an amazing job decorating the party. I’d like to introduce you both to my half-brother, Roan. He recently moved here from Alaska and I wanted him to meet my friends so he’ll know more people in the area.”
At the words ‘half-brother’, Clarke could almost feel the question marks popping up over her head, like in the Saturday morning cartoons she still watched when she had the time. Brother? Not boyfriend? But Bellamy said…
Trying desperately to keep the confusion off her face, Clarke greeted the large man politely. “It’s nice to meet you, Roan. Welcome to town. And whatever he said when you met him, I promise Murphy’s like that with everyone.” She had no idea what Murphy had said or done when introduced, but she knew Murphy, and she knew it was probably anywhere from brash to mildly traumatizing.
The large man flashed her a smile, but was distracted by a high-pitched shriek from the kitchen. “Octavia, no please, we’re sorry, really, we’re so sorry, nooo, not the face!” Jasper and Monty had messed with the pie, then. And now were being made to regret it.
Clarke laughed and rolled her eyes at her ridiculous friends, most of whom were heading for the kitchen to watch and laugh at whatever horrors O was inflicting on the unfortunate pie-tamperers. Raven was cackling and brandishing her phone, which was no doubt recording everything, as she led the charge. Murphy followed quickly after, also with his phone out, and soon the sound of snapping photos could be heard.
It was sure to be hilarious, whatever was going on in there, but Clarke turned to Bellamy with a raised eyebrow. “Her half-brother?”
Bellamy scrubbed his hand over his face, but couldn’t stop her from seeing the blush creeping up his cheeks and ears.
“Would you believe me if I said it was an honest mistake?” he asked hopefully. She raised her other brow in answer and his shoulders slumped dramatically. It took a force of will to not smile at him, but that would ruin her interrogation.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Look, I’m really, really sorry. I don’t even know what I was thinking, I just- I just didn’t want to ruin anything, but I couldn’t stand it anymore.” He said all in a rush, pulling her tighter to him as though he was afraid she would try to get away. It seemed to have escaped his notice that she was still happily ensconced in his arms and would have to be pried away with a crowbar at this point.
So many emotions were running through her that Clarke couldn’t name exactly what she felt. She’d say she felt sick, but in a good way, like after you get off a roller coaster and your adrenaline is up and your heart is going a million miles an hour. Elation, joy, disbelief, excitement, determination. Love.
Despite this, Clarke didn’t say anything. She’d known Bellamy for years, and she knew by now that arguing and shouting just made him clam up even more, but silent expectation and patience could pull answers out of him like nothing else.
He buried his face on the top of her head, probably trying to hide the bright red blush he was no doubt sporting. “I couldn’t stand being so close to you but still being so far away. I wanted to ask if you would come to the party with me as a date, but I chickened out at the last second like a fucking loser,” he whispered, his hand spasming around her waist. “Only I could manage to fuck up asking someone out so badly.”
Clarke wrapped her other arm around him in a hug and leaned her head on his chest. Her voice was hushed as she spoke, and she couldn’t keep the tremble out of it. Even now that he’d practically confessed to having feelings for her, she was terrified.
“In the spirit of confessing things we’ve hidden from each other for way too long because we’re both dumbasses, I… love you. I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time. Since before you met Echo even, since you showed me how to shoot a paintball gun and then we won when we took Murphy out together, but I was always too chicken to say anything. I was afraid of ruining things between us, and I would rather have you as a best friend than nothing at all.”
A hand gently nudged her under the chin, and she looked up at him slowly. She’d never seen a look on his face like that before, but she liked it, a lot. Warm and fond and tender and slightly amused.
“You’re right, we’re both spectacular dumbasses. But I can’t think of a better Christmas present than this,” he said, tightening his arms around her and gazing into her eyes.
Reaching up, she slowly wound her arms around his neck and lifted her head, moving closer to his face. He stood, frozen in expectation, and she stopped a centimeter from his mouth. “Neither can I,” she whispered, before closing the distance to his lips. She’d never spoken a truer statement in her life.
Time lost all meaning for the two of them as they stood entwined in each other’s embrace, their surroundings faded, sound disappeared, and they were quite happily aware only of one another.
They didn’t even register the sound of a shutter snapping, and so missed the shark-like grin on Murphy’s face as he glanced at his phone in satisfaction before hurrying back to the kitchen. “Hey guys, have I got a Christmas miracle for you…”
#bss2019#bellarke#clarke griffin#bellamy blake#bellarke secret santa#it's later than i planned on posting but it's not late and that's what matters lol
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clarke and lexa are snowed in at raven and anya’s holiday/housewarming party
i wanted to finish this for clexa week but, life happens, and i wasn’t able to so here’s a snippet, the beginning really, and if you guys like it, i’ll wrap it up soon and post it to ao3. but i figured something is better than nothing, even if i think it’s pretty rough so, here you go. also, a rough attempt at a moodboard. nevertheless, enjoy!
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It’s almost over. Technically she’s halfway to the finish line. But it’s almost over.
Finals week is upon them.
Clarke has a few sketches to finish for her portfolio, her finals project only has a few tweaks to be done, and then she can finally relax for winter break. She can worry about her last official university semester once the new year rolls around.
Tonight, though, Raven wanted to have a group study session at Clarke and Lexa’s apartment. it’s a nice change from the stuffy Arkadia library, at least Clarke can sketch on her couch instead of those hard, wooden chairs, oddly always warm.
The crew’s scattered around her apartment, Octavia and Lincoln are sitting at the kitchen island, going through flashcards for Lincoln’s psych exam. Bellamy has taken to the recliner, flipping through the pages of his latest history read. He graduated years ago yet, he still hangs around. Nerd. Jasper and Maya are sat at one end of the dining table, there’s less studying and more of Jasper goofing around, but poor Maya has a highlighter in her mouth and about 3 other different colored highlighters in each hand, going through her bio notes. Pre-med is rough and Clarke feels for her. Monty is next to them, fiddling with a broken car radio he’s trying to fix for Miller. Raven and Anya are at the opposite end, Raven seemed to have wrapped up her studies early and somehow dug out Clarke’s old toaster and opened it up, rewiring it. Anya’s just eating some nuggets.
Clarke’s stomach grumbles. Hmm, not a bad idea. She moves to get up from the coach when Lexa appears, plate of nuggets in hand.
Clarke beams up at her, “how’d you know?”
Lexa shrugs, “You’ve been sketching for a while, figured you’d want some fuel.” She flops down next to Clarke and pulls up the Twitter app on her phone.
Clarke pulls her in for a kiss, slow and tender. She caresses Lexa’s face and Lexa pulls back, rubs her nose against Clarke’s, moving her head to the other side. It’s sweet and slow, perfect.
Clarke leans back and looks at Lexa through her eyelashes, “Thanks, baby.”
Lexa’s lips curl up a bit on one side, that sweet smile reserved only for Clarke. She reaches for Clarke’s hand and rubs her thumb over Clarke’s.
BANG.
“Attention, everyone!” Raven yells. “Hear ye, hear ye, I have an announcement before we wrap up this lovely hellish study session.”
Everyone jumped in their places at the crash, but they gather closer nonetheless. Raven smashed Clarke’s old toaster on the ground. Sigh, typical. Dramatic, as usual.
“Anya and I are throwing a housewarming party,” Raven beams.
“Does that mean we have to buy you gifts for being an adult,” Lexa scrunches her face, she grabs a nugget and pops it into her mouth.
Raven tilts her head to the side and feigns a smile, “Yes. Why ever the fuck else would I be hosting a party when you and Clarke have a perfectly furnished apartment.” she waves her hand in the general direction of everything they have, then points at the kitchen, “a fucking Nespresso machine, Clarke. You guys are boujee and I want in on it.”
“Raven,” Clarke sighs.
“Help me, I’m poor,” Raven pouts and bats her eyelashes.
Lexa stifles a laugh, “Might as well make a, like, baby registry for your apartment, ya know”. She pauses and looks at Clarke, “Is that a thing? Did we do that?”
She pats Lexa’s arm and sighs, “Yeah babe, it’s a thing. Technically.”
“Lexa, you beautiful dumbass, te quiero tanto” she practically launches herself across the table to grab Lexa’s face and plant a quick rough kiss on her lips. “I’m gonna sign up for that and send you all the link. I want a blender. And a microwave. And those smart light bulbs. God, they’re so fucking expensive, I don’t understand why. Gonna need Ms. Amazon Alexa too so I can connect that. I wanna speak to her. Our own smart house, how zesty of us. Oh! A fridge, need that too but the one you tweet on! That’s so boujee, I love it- ”
Lexa’s stunned, really didn’t expect that one. Clarke plopped back against her seat and lets out an exhausted breath. She’s used to Raven’s antics, of course, but tonight she just wants to finish her sketch and cuddle with Lexa. They’ve been here for hours, she’s tired and she has an early class in the morning. She picks up a pencil and continues to work, letting the conversation idle into background noise.
Her peace only lasts a few seconds.
Jasper mischievously snatches a sheet of paper and crumples it up, throws the ball at Lexa, and laughs, “She won’t shut up and it’s your fault, Woods.”
Lexa snatches a fat eraser out of Clarke’s hand and launches it at Jasper’s face, pure reflex.
Clarke gives up, her efforts futile, she snaps her sketchbook closed and groans.
“Fuck! Ow, what the fuck, Lex?”
“If you so much as look at me wrong, I will Spartan kick you off my balcony, you failed abortion. Capice?”
Clarke snaps her head towards Lexa, trying and failing to controller her laughter, and smacks Lexa lightly on the arm, “Lexa, no.”
“What? He’s annoying.”
“He’s our friend, remember. Be nice.”
“I’ve never claimed him. He’s your friend.”
“Everything that’s mine is yours, sweetheart,” Clarke singsongs and boops her on the nose.
Lexa tries to bite Clarke’s finger and falls short, her eyes narrow on her girlfriend, “Pick your battles, Griffin”
“HELLOOOO!” Raven bangs on the table abruptly. Everyone stops. “We were talking about me.”
Anya’s exasperated at this point. She only decided to come over for the free food and now she has to deal with this? She checks her watch, wondering when would be a good time to drag Raven out of her before she rips someone’s head off for suggesting teal accents when her apartment theme is planned to be black and gold. Seems trivial to Anya but, she knows Raven well enough by now.
Lexa blinks, “Oh? I-”
“Can you not? Thanks. Anyway, back to me now.”
Lexa throws her hands up, defeated, “Why am I in trouble when that sorry excuse for a man physically attacked me. In my own home! I’m a victim.” Lexa narrows at him, “the white man wins again.”
“Hey!” Jasper protests.”I was just-”
Raven lowers her voice and glares at Jasper, he gulps. “I will tie you to a chair and set your three mustache hairs on fire one by one. I know how long you’ve tried to grow that out, you’ve gotten attached to them, little man. Do not test me.”
Octavia grins, “This is getting good. Shall I make popcorn?”
Jasper slouches back into himself. Maya gives him a soft kiss on his cheek and a soft smile, and Monty puts him in a headlock and tousles his hair playfully, “You’ll be fine, buddy.”
Anya pinches the bridge of her nose, her eyes closed. She checks her watch again, looks around the room. Good enough. She raises herself out of her seat and steps towards Raven, an arm snaking around Raven’s neck.
“Alright Reyes, that’s enough. We get it, we’re poor, we need house stuff, and you’re becoming a dictator.”
“The Castros are shaking right now,” Lexa smirks.
Raven snorts, “Ha, noice.” They high five and Clarke and Anya share a look, both rolling their eyes.
“Okaaaay” Anya drawls, she detaches from Raven and grabs her hand as they make their way to the door, “So we’re gonna go. This was nice until crackhead Martha Stewart here took over.”
Raven pauses, a little insulted but nonetheless, she continues, “I want the fridge that can tweet, Anya.”
“I know baby,” Anya sighs, dragging Raven along.
“It’s essential. It’s the future. Technology, it revolves around us, you know.”
“I really don’t even know what you’re saying anymore.”
Lexa waves from her seat, grinning, and turns to Clarke, “We’re not getting the fridge.”
Clarke hums absentmindedly, “Absolutely not.” She really doesn’t care anymore, though. She just wants to go to bed with Lexa. She rubs her hands down her face, crosses her arms and yawns.
Lexa watches her, noticing the drooping eyelids, sketchbook closed in front of her. She stands and clasps her hands together.
“Okay putas, time to go. Pick up your shit and get outta here, it’s beddy-bye. Clarke looks like she’s going to knock out on this couch and I’d rather not carry her to bed so, let’s move on out.” She ushers everyone up and out, herds them towards the door like a shepherd gathering stray sheep into a barn. Or out, rather.
They all protest on their way out, but appreciate the eviction considering how late it’s gotten and no one noticed.
“Thanks for the food, Lex. I’ll see you on the field tomorrow, right?” Lincoln hugs her and gives her a sharp look. She’s on her vacation and he knows how quickly she can fall into a lazy spiral if she lets herself.
Lexa grunts, “But it’s supposed to snow.”
Lincoln gives her a sharp look and she concedes, nodding in agreement.
They all file out, waving goodbye, and piling into their cars. Lexa closes the door, locks it and leans against it, letting out a sigh of relief.
“It’s quiet,” Lexa breathes.
“Lex. Bed,” Clarke whispers. She’s waiting in the bedroom doorway, hand reaching out towards Lexa. She strides over and slips her hand into Clarke’s, placing a tender kiss to her lips. Clarke hums and her lips curl into a smile on one side, similar to one of Lexa’s.
They fall into bed, a tangle of limbs, soft kisses on smooth skin, breaths evening out.
Clarke curls deeper into Lexa’s warmth and not a minute later, drifts off.
#clexaweek2019#day 7#free day#clexa#clexa fic#clarke x lexa#clexa au#clexa drabble#i guess?#my writing#ayyy that tags back#anyway i made this oneshot too long and i got busy with work and family so i truly couldn't finish in time#and then i got an idea for another oneshot so sdkjnfs#i made a rough moodboard or whatever to compensate a bit :)#hope its decent folks#i miss these nerds#thanks for reading i appreciate it anyways
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Fic: Sweet Tooth
to @golaulau love from your secret santa
Robert knew better than to attempt Christmas shopping on Christmas Eve. Everyone did. Yet here he was, shuffled around with the masses of last minute shoppers getting the last few gifts he needed for his family gathering tomorrow.
If Robert has it his way he’d avoid the whole bloody day altogether, spend it eating a takeaway and drinking the expensive bottle of whisky he got from his boss as a Christmas present. He already had plans for his very hefty Christmas bonus, a nice long vacation somewhere warm and the new Audi he’d been eyeing all year.
Unfortunately, Robert has a sister; the kind that loved you absolutely and for some reason wanted to spend time with her brothers. They’d been getting along better since Katie had left Andy, doing exactly the same dance on his brother’s heart that she’d done to Robert. Nothing brought people together more than shared distain.
So now Andy focused on his two children from a previous relationship, and seemed to understand Robert a lot better, or at least was trying to.
Buying presents for them all was proving a bit of a headache though. Andy had sent him a list of things the kids wanted, all cheap and way less than Robert had been prepared to spend. Robert’s money and Andy’s lack of it was still a sticky point. It hadn’t helped when Robert had paid off the mortgage on the farm after Katie left, knowing his brother was in a bind. Andy thought Robert was throwing his weight around when Robert had just been trying to build a bridge back to who they used to be, before they’d been waring brothers and actual friends.
Plus Robert had a soft spot for Sarah and Jack, his niece and nephew who thought Uncle Rob was pretty great, even when he wasn’t showering them with gifts.
Still, last year this had all been easier when he’d left it all up to his assistant. Except Victoria had made a joke about it during the last Christmas dinner and Robert had gotten offended. It wasn’t that he couldn’t buy presents for people that were meaningful; he just didn’t have time.
So now he was standing in front of the shops with a few bags of items that didn’t seem like the right things and regretting telling Bernice he had it covered this year.
An understated but expensive Tiffany necklace for Victoria (Breakfast At Tiffany’s was her favourite film), a new Chevalier jacket for Andy (just like the one Robert had but in green, he’d noticed Andy admiring his a few months back), the latest gaming system for Jack (with enough games to make his head spin) and a new iPad for Sarah with a hefty gift card attached (the girl loved blaring her music, just like her Uncle Rob.)
So why didn’t he feel done?
He needed caffeine to make it through the rest of the evening, especially if he was going to be mad enough to keep searching for a present he didn’t actually need. This Christmas was going to be the start of a new tradition, all the remaining Sugdens together under one roof. They hadn’t done that since they were kids. Robert remembered after the day of excitement and food sitting around the living room sofa playing Monopoly with Andy while Victoria pretended to be the banker, too young to actually understand the game. No one ever really won, they’d just play until it was time for bed, for once not arguing over who was the better man.
Robert ducked into the first Starbucks he saw, thankful that the line was only halfway across the store. He juggled the bags in his hands, trying to ease the pull of cheap plastic against his wrists. He ended up jostling into the body in front of him.
“You alright, mate?”
Robert had intended to be polite and beg forgiveness from the person who turned around to look at him. He had intended to be apologetic and charming. Then he met a pair of crystal clear blue eyes and his brain short circuited.
“Huh?”
Robert closed his eyes at his own stupidity but opened them to the sound of deep laughter. Those eyes belonged to a stubbled face, broad shoulders and a voice that made Robert’s insides feel like they had collected in a pile at his feet.
“Yeah I know the feeling. Not a fan of crowds myself.”
Robert had absolutely no idea why this man was talking to him and his tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of his mouth. Robert wondered if he was drooling? He might be drooling. A man this gorgeous needed to walk around with some kind of warning label. Also, say something Sugden, Jesus.
“Sorry about that, it’s bedlam everywhere innit it?”
Good job, ask him a question. Get him to keep talking. That way you can look at his face more. Robert really liked that face.
“Serves us right waiting until the last minute like this. At least someone will be very happy tomorrow.”
Gorgeous Stranger motioned to the bags in Robert’s hand with a jut of his stubbled chin, specifically the bright Tiffany blue one.
“It’s for my sister. I’m single.”
Robert wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Yes, tell Insanely Attractive that you’re single after 30 seconds. Way to keep a cool head. Thankfully before Robert could shove his foot any further into his mouth one of the barista’s shouted “Next!” and Blue Eyes turned away from him.
Instead, he stared at the back of the man, tried to gauge his age. Younger than Robert, but not by much. He wished Touchable Hair wasn’t wearing such a puffy jacket, but it showed off how broad his shoulders were. He looked cool in that whole “I don’t have to try to work at being attractive because I am, I just don’t know how much” kind of way. Robert was more of a “Yeah I look good but when I try I look better” man himself. They didn’t create well fitted suits for no reason and he wasn’t going to squander what God gave him by not enhancing it.
Wonder what Hidden Biceps would look like in a suit? Wonder what he would look like out of a suit? Or in just a tie? Or in…
“Uh, Sir?”
Robert realized he was next in line and had been daydreaming like an idiot.
“Yeah, Grande Peppermint Mocha, extra shot of peppermint, please”
Robert loved anything sweet; it was another addiction along with Calvin Klein boxer briefs, his sisters shepherd’s pie, and his Monty Python’s Flying Circus box set.
He paid for his order and headed to wait for his drink. Wet Dreamwas leaning with his back against the wall, tapping away on his phone. Robert rolled his eyes at the slowed down guitar riff version of Jingle Bells that was being pumped through the sound system.
He only had about three or four more minutes to look his fill before they’d go back to their shopping and on with their lives. They’d never see each other again.
So what would be the harm in offering Look At Those Thighs his number? Robert was usually more self assured than this. Clearly Christmas and the nostalgia was getting to him, taking him back to when he was an insecure boy, not the confident Robert of today. He was dressed nice, leather jacket over his well fitted jeans. His hair was probably perfect and he’d gone to the gym this morning.
If Kissable Mouth turned him down it was his loss than wasn’t it?
Emboldened he stepped forward just as Scruffy Sex On A Stick put the phone to his ear and started talking.
“Yeah, I’ll be home soon. Of course I’ll pick up dinner on be way; God help us if you decided to cook.”
Robert’s stomach sank, Unavailable Dream Man was beaming as he talked on the phone and that could only mean one thing, love. It was punctuated even further by the throaty laugh that spread want through Robert’s entire body.
“Yeah, I love you too. See you soon.”
Seriously Fuckable shoved his phone in his pocket and offered Robert a smile as he reached for the cup the barista put before them on the counter. Robert offered him a tight smile, trying to not show disappointment that this was the end of their epic love story.
He sighed as I Want His Mouth On Me took a large sip of his drink and turned to walk away, until he heard the sputtering and coughing.
“Ugh, what the hell is this?”
Robert looked at the cup, saw his name written on the side and grimaced.
“Sorry mate, I think that was mine.”
Adorable Frown shook his head and looked down at the cup in his hand, finally realizing he’d grabbed the wrong drink and downed Robert’s sugary concoction.
“You actually like this stuff?”
Robert couldn’t help but laugh.
“It’s Chrismassy.”
“So is holly but you don’t see me blending it up and swinging it back.”
Hot And Sarcastic smiled at Robert’s short burst of laughter and dropped the drink into the garbage can beside him.
“Well let me get you another one, because there was something clearly wrong with whatever that was.”
“No, really it’s fine.”
“Look mate, you want to drink this swill, I ain’t gonna stop yah. Let me please, my fault after all.”
Robert opened his mouth to protest again until I Want To Lick Himraised his eyebrow in a seductive challenge that had Robert licking his own lips instead.
“Yeah, okay. Peppermint Mocha, extra shot of peppermint.”
Are Those Eyes Even Real grinned and moved past Robert, going to the head of the line and gesturing slightly before handing the barista more money than it should cost. The barista looked Robert’s way, grinned, writing the order on the cup and passing it over to be made.
Robert was trying to think of something impressive and lasting to say but once again words failed him. Instead, Smells Good Enough To Eat snagged his correct drink off the counter and kept walking, a friendly “Happy Christmas” thrown over his shoulder that sent a shiver down Robert’s spine.
Ugh, Robert hated himself and the world in general as he watched All The Good Ones Are Taken disappear out of sight.
“Sweet Tooth.”
Robert blinked and looked at the barista as she held out a red take away cup towards him.
“Excuse me?”
“Peppermint Mocha with extra peppermint, he said your name was Sweet Tooth.”
Robert smiled at her and took the cup from her hand. She winked at him and turned back to making another drink. It wasn’t until he was out on the street that he looked at the cup more closely and noticed the phone number scribbled on it with a heart and the name Aaron in bold letters.
One Year Later
Robert scrolled through his phone, reading intently the article he’d found about Monopoly strategies. He was going to wipe the floor with Andy this Christmas.
After he’d left Starbucks a year ago, he’d headed to the nearest game store and bought the swankiest version of the game they made. It was pretty expensive but it would last forever, mahogany board and actual silver pieces. There was even a banker drawer which he knew would make Vic happy.
Christmas on Andy’s farm has been tense at first, Andy giving him a tight smile with every excited squeal Sarah and Jack made over the presents Robert gave them. It wasn’t until everyone was done that he pulled out the game, wrapped in gold paper with a giant red bow and placed it in front of Victoria with a flourish.
“So this is a Sugden present; it’s for all of us.”
Victoria had cried when she’d opened it and Andy has just looked at him, a genuine smile on his face and declared he was going to wipe the floor with Robert.
The kids hadn’t been too interested but after dinner the original Sugden kids had played well into the night, Victoria losing early but still willing to hand out money and hold the deeds. They’d finally called it a draw at midnight after too much wine and a lot of laughter.
But for the last few weeks, Andy has been texting him trash talk about the upcoming game and Robert was not going down without a fight.
A slight cough made him raise his head and take in Sexy In A Ridiculous Christmas Jumper as he held out a mug for Robert.
“You are not actually looking up Monopoly strategies online are you?”
Robert took the cup, smiled at the candy cane and whip cream piled out of his hot chocolate that The Best Thing That Ever Happened To Me had made for him.
“Aaron, he’s been winding me up for weeks. It’s a matter of pride now.”
Sweetest Smile just rolled his eyes but sat down on the couch and snuggled into Robert’s side.
“What time do we have to leave to get Liv?”
“Not for another hour yet. But I’m driving, you know what you’re like after…”
He Knows Me So Well waved his hands at the empty chocolate wrappers on the coffee table and the cup of sugar Robert was drinking.
“Only if I get to pick the radio station.”
“Ugh, fine.”
It had taken every ounce of willpower Robert had possessed to wait until after the holidays before he called Hogs All The Covers and asked him out to dinner.
Robert was in love before their appetizers made it to the table.
In the year since, they’d argued over everything under the sun, gone on vacation to Spain, met each other’s families, and were about to celebrate their first Christmas together in the home they shared.
It’d been a wild ride and it wasn’t about to stop anytime soon. Because they had Liv, Kindest Person I Know’s little sister, to pick up from the airport. She was going to be the first guest in their newly redecorated spare room.
Christmas Eve was with the Dingles and Christmas Day was with the Sugdens. Somewhere in between all that Robert was hoping to get a few moments alone with God I Love Him So Much It Hurts, because he had a ring box hidden in their Christmas tree and a question he wanted to ask.
“You’re not going to win the game, you know that right?”
Robert looked at I’m Going To Marry Him in mock horror.
“Aaron, whose side are you on here?”
I Can’t Wait To Spend My Life With You just snuggled in closer and lifted his face to Robert’s
“Mine, because I’m playing this year. I am going to own you, Sugden, just wait and see.”
Robert couldn’t resist tipping his head down and pressing a kiss on those lips before he whispered against them.
“You already do, Aaron. You already do.”
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Your Light in the Mist - One Shot, Been Shopping
As we munched our Kung Po chicken (Chinese food was a Thursday tradition at the office, I was informed by Gavin, whose face was bright red and sweating from the intensely spicy concoction) I remembered I’d yet to inquire as to what I was expected to turn up in for Phaedra’s event at the Cube Gallery the following evening. Simon’s chopsticks fell from his fingers, mouth agape.
“Do you always wait until the very last moment for this sort of thing, Maude? I thought New York was just a fluke because you had no idea you were going to Daniel…is this a pattern? I am tres disappointed.”
Using my entire hand, fingers spread, I pointed at the worn Lord of the Rings T-shirt I’d thrown on that morning. “Dude, does it LOOK like I put a shitload of thought into what I wear most of the time?”
He peeked under the table. “You wore those shorts Tuesday, didn’t you?”
I nodded emphatically, brows raised. “NOW you’re getting it.”
Shrugging, he swallowed another bit of chicken. “No, I’m not. Because you weren’t a total slob in HAWAII.” I kicked him under the table. “OW. Bitch. I meant that whenever we went out you looked beautiful…”
Leaning back in my chair, eyes closed, I took a deep breath, then spoke, softly at first, my voice rising as I made my point. “That’s why I’m ASKING. So I can make a valiant attempt at looking DECENT. And since it’s so LAST MINUTE, can you just maybe please, oh, I don’t know, TELL ME WHAT THE DRESS CODE IS ALREADY?”
Luke was smirking, looking back and forth between us as if he was watching a rousing tennis match. “Suit and tie, Maude. With plenty of leeway for artistic expression. My mother’s friends are…interesting.”
“Thank you, Luke. I’m sure I brought something with me that’ll work.”
Simon pushed himself up off the cushioned bench seat and reached out his hand to me. “Come on.” I remained motionless, looking up at him as if he was an alien creature about to attack. His head tipped back, eyes rolling. “We are going up to your flat. I will peer into your closet. I will determine if any of it ‘works’.”
I shot Luke a ‘what the fuck’ look, his half smile and shrug clearly indicating that my life would be simpler if I just went with it. I stood, reluctantly, gazing longingly at the remains of my lunch.
“Fine. But I just thought of the perfect dress…”
He crossed his arms. “That brown galaxy print?” I nodded, my turn to gape. Simon shook his head. “Yeah, no.”
“Why not? And what the hell, Simon? This is starting to piss me off…”
Both of his hands found my shoulders and settled there. “You already WORE that one. Maude? You do realize that this is a widely publicized event? And that somehow, someone…” He whipped his head around to the other staff table. “SOMEONE mentioned online that one Mr. Hiddleston would be in attendance.”
My head tilted to the side. Simon sighed. “Maude. This is, like, your LONDON DEBUT as a COUPLE. There will be press. There will be paps. There will be fans.”
“OOOHHHHHH. So you’re going all PR on my ass is what’s happening here.” I grinned. “Well, I’m glad someone’s paying attention. Tom’s woefully inadequate Social Media Director didn’t even notice it circulating on them there interwebs.”
Luke chuckled. “She’s not woefully inadequate.”
I sighed. “I can’t chastise you because you’re my boss. But I’m certain you sense my displeasure.”
We all laughed, and Luke stood. “I’m sure that after our conversation yesterday afternoon your mind is focused on other things.”
“Do you mean the quadrupled workload I managed to dump into my own lap because I had an idea? No. I’m not obsessing over that at all. Wait. You said focused. I’m not focusing on that at all.”
Simon took my hand and pointed at Luke. “Sorry, boss man. I’m kidnapping her for the rest of the afternoon.”
My head shook vehemently. “No you are not. I have SO many phone calls to make and hopefully interviews to arrange and why I am I suddenly not capable of dressing myself?”
“Maude, honey, you’re in a strange city. Our customs are unfamiliar to you. Let’s skip the closet part and just GO SHOPPING.” His brows rose as he finished his sentence, face leaning in towards mine and I realized he probably had an ulterior motive.
“Fine, Simon. FINE. Shopping.” I turned to Luke. “Is this really okay with you?”
He laughed. “I have to live with the man. A-okay.”
As we walked up the stairs Simon whispered in my ear. “Sorry, love. I saw an opportunity and went for it. Glad you finally caught on there at the end.”
I snorted. “I have no idea what the fuck I caught on to, but you SHOULD be glad because I was ready to kick your ass for insulting my fashion sense. Do I like to bum around when I can? Absofuckingloutely. When the occasion demands do I clean up well? Also absofuckingloutely.”
He shushed me as we reached the door to the main level. I grabbed my bag from my office, pulling my phone out as we walked passed a confused Lyssa. Simon went all Monty Python and yelled ‘You been shopping? No, I been shopping!’ as we headed through the door.
As I rang Tom’s phone he rolled his eyes. “God, do you have to tell him EVERYTHING?”
I smacked his arm. “Shut the fuck up.” Tom, of course, picked up just as the words came out of my mouth. “Shit. Hi. That was for Simon, not you. So. Hey. How are you?”
His throaty chuckle at my awkwardness made me blush. Stupid schoolgirl Maude strikes again. “Hi to you too. What’s up?”
“You know, I’m not really sure but it would appear that Simon is dragging me out shopping so I can find a dress for tomorrow night. At least that’s what he told Luke…”
Simon grabbed the phone away from my ear via my wrist, walking me away from the office door, stopping near the stairs closest to Tom’s and my flat and speaking as it remained in my hand. “Thomas. I believe have found the perfect dress for my maid of honor and I am taking her to try it on. DO NOT, under any circumstances, tell Luke. I want every little detail to be in place before he sees ANY of what I’m planning.”
I frowned. “So…I’m NOT getting a dress for tomorrow night?”
“Yes, yes, we’re going to find a dress for you. And some coffee because you are like…DUH.”
Wriggling away from him I pressed the phone back to my ear. “So there you have it. We are now participants in a wedding conspiracy. Apparently. I don’t suppose you want to come with us?”
I could picture his head shaking back and forth slowly as he spoke. “No, no…the two of you go have some fun. I’ll just stay…here…enjoying the peace…and the quiet…”
“How rude. So, shall I send you some pics…”
“Dressing room pics? God yes. Please.” A sharp inhale. “I don’t suppose you have five minutes to spare before you leave? Maybe Simon needs to put more gel in his hair or something?”
Simon shouted ‘I heard that you bloody bastard’ as I bit into my bottom lip. “I meant pictures of the prospective dresses for tomorrow. Just so you know.” The air in the lobby seemed stiflingly hot. “Fuck, is the air conditioning not working in here or something?”
Tom snorted. “Funny, I was wondering the same thing. One particular part of me is decidedly warmer than the rest, though…”
“Okay. On that note, we should get going. Because…”
He uttered a delicate groan. “Oh my, it got all HARD when I touched it…”
“Nuh-uh. Going now. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Simon made gagging noises and pretended to vomit on the carpet as I put my phone away, and I hoped beyond hope he’d ACTUALLY vomit all over his two-tone striped grey John Varvatos Mykanos Venetian loafers. Paired with white to-the-knee shorts and a grey polo that matched the darker stripe of the shoes perfectly, he looked as if he’d just stepped off his yacht and was in search of the nearest appropriately upscale men’s club. As I looked down at my own clothes, I came to terms with the fact that even if he’d used it as a ruse to sneak around behind Luke’s back, the man had a point about my attire. Just like Veronica had in New York. Shaking my head, I muttered something along the lines of needing to find some less fashion-forward friends who wouldn’t be so focused on my clothing choices and thus I’d be allowed to live a normal life wherein wearing the same shorts twice in week wasn’t a scandal.
“MAUDE, I heard that!”
“Good. Have you ever, you know, thought of dressing DOWN?”
He gasped. “And break rule number sixty four under section eight of the Exceedingly Handsome Homosexual Male’s Handbook? NEVER.”
My eyes narrowed as I suppressed a huge grin. “Well played, Mr. Ahlberg. Well played.”
He reached for my hand, squeezing it gently, his own baby-soft and warm with an underlying strength that somehow surprised me. “Come on, gimpy. You can make it to the parking garage, can’t you?”
“Yes, asshat. Let’s motor.”
We walked down the street hand in hand, our arms swing as he sang a little song about having me all to himself for an entire afternoon. I spotted Tom’s Jaguar, and totally lost my shit when Simon’s key fob disarmed a Fiat 500 L two cars down from it, its paint an eye-assaulting robin’s egg blue.
“Simon. My god. That’s…fuck…it’s so…YOU it’s not even funny.”
He opened the passenger door for me, one hand on his hip. “So why are you laughing?”
Which of course made me laugh even harder, and he finally had to come get me and practically stuff me in the vehicle, rolling his eyes the entire time.
We sat until I assured him I wasn’t going to pee my pants, then he put the Fiat in gear and exited the garage. Once on the road, he turned on the stereo and Alice in Chains began blaring…Grind, one of my favorites.
“Holy shit, Alice in Chains! Color me impressed, Simon.”
“Yes, my musical tastes expand beyond Rick Astley and Gloria Gaynor.”
I chuckled. “What’s the handbook say about THAT?”
“God. Why don’t you shut up and sing with me?”
It was shocking how well our voices harmonized, and as the song ended with both said in unison ‘oh my god, duet’ and discussed what might be appropriate for Emma’s HeForShe talent show until Simon drove past a huge building bearing the name ‘Vogue House’, then parked one street down.
I felt my body go cold and twisted around to face him. “Um, Simon? That Vogue bit…that’s not, like, VOGUE vogue, is it?”
A fiendish grin spread across his face. “If you mean Conde Nast publications Vogue magazine, then yes. Big giant fucking YES. But we’re actually going to see someone at Glamour, an old friend from college. Elaine Casemuir. We’re really just casual acquaintances at this point, but she used to come in to the Dorchester and I’d make sure she always had a great table, so this is payback. This dress…it’s just…perfect. I managed to score the Gherkin for the ceremony and reception…there may have been some blackmail involved, but a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. Here, look.”
He handed me his phone, and my reaction as I scrolled the photos went from oh, nice to fuck me that is the coolest place EVER. According to their website, weddings and receptions were held on the top two floors of the most incredible steel and glass, phallic building I’d ever laid eyes on. I hazarded a guess that the Gherkin was a pickle reference, which was probably what most non-horny 24/7 people saw when they looked at. 360 degree panoramic views of the London cityscape, totally modern interior…glorious.
“Simon. Blackmail. WORTH IT. Not gonna ask, because…probably better not to know. And…”
“Oh please. You SO want to know. The guy who books events hangs around with us in clubs on occasion. He’s also sleeping with one of the waiters there who’s barely out of high school. His wife would NOT be amused if she knew about either of those things.”
“SIMON.”
“What?”
“You are so…so…WICKED. I’m impressed.” I patted his shoulder. “Luke is a very lucky man.”
He sniffled. “No, I’m the one who’s lucky. I want to make this so special, because it means so, so much to both of us…damn you, making me cry. Now my skin’s going to be all blotchy when we see Elaine and she’ll be all oh, Simon, your skin is horrid, darling and I’ll have to slap her. She’s a writer, by the way, and she also does a ton of photoshoot arranging. Which means access to designer lines. I saw the dress a week and a half ago and had her track it down that day, it’s a Valentino from the 2015 Spring/Summer collection…matches my color scheme of black and white and silver PERFECTLY…”
I raised a brow as I removed my hand from his shoulder. “Um, you ARE aware that I’m a double-D cup who barely fits in a size twelve, yes?”
Pinching my nose, he giggled before speaking. “I am indeed. It’s from the Ready-to-Wear line. And it’s a twelve. As for your boobs fitting…that’s why god made duct tape.”
“Oh, fuck that…I’m still recovering from body glue trauma…”
“AH AH AH, NO. Come on. Let’s go in.” He got out and came around to open my door, extending a hand to help me up and out.
I stood and closed the door behind me. “Yeah, yeah. Wait…you only asked me to be your maid of honor last Friday…”
He stared at the ground, toeing one foot across the pavement, then glanced up at me sheepishly. “Correct. I would have been heartbroken if you’d said no.”
Wrapping my arms around him, I kissed his cheek. “Aw. Simon.”
“Mainly because the dress was a fucking small fortune.”
“Whatever. Let’s go before I kill you.”
****************************************
Elaine’s office was at the rear of the building, within the main Glamour office itself. She squealed when she saw Simon, throwing herself at him, her stick-thin arms wrapping around him and pulling his head to her chest. Clad in a red micro-mini and white button down shirt, her straight black hair was impossibly shiny and just brushed her shoulders, the white patent leather heels she wore causing her to tower over Simon by at least three inches. Her gaze turned to me and though her face remained happy-happy I swore I could smell her disappointment as she took in my state of dress. When she spoke, I was stunned to hear an American accent.
“Hello there, Maude. Nice to meet you. I’m Elaine Casemuir” She thrust her hand out, and I shook it, hesitant to grab too tightly lest I break a bone on her.
“Nice to meet you as well, Elaine.”
Simon clapped excitedly. “Dress, Elaine. SHOW HER THE DRESS.”
She rolled her eyes and released my hand. “Simon, you have no chill. Follow me.”
We walked out of the office and down the rest of the hallway to a light blue metal door. She unlocked it, entered the room and indicated that we should join her inside. It was vast, racks upon racks of clothing and all sorts of accessories strewn about. She teetered on her heels three racks down, turned left, grunted several times, then shouted ‘victory’. When she rounded the corner and held up what she’d found, I immediately turned to Simon, grabbed his bicep and spoke using my terribly inappropriate for this particular setting outdoor voice.
“I. FUCKING. LOVE. IT.”
It was floor length, a filmy light grey, very transparent with appliquéd silver stars of varying size, a combination of some resembling starfish and others the traditional five point star formation covering both the lightly pleated, flowing skirt and form-fitting bodice. And my lord, that bodice…the sleeves were short and just the teensiest bit puffy with a little ruffle ring at the bottoms, and the neck was…a V. A V that extended to just an inch above the two-inch wide waistband, and unlike the skirt, there was no underlayment whatsoever and no way to wear a bra so it was totally HELLO NIPPLES.
He grinned widely. “I knew you’d love it. You have no shame.”
I pointed my index finger in his face. “Mmm hmm. Let’s remember this is for your WEDDING. What are YOU wearing? Assless chaps?”
“Don’t think it didn’t cross my mind, Maude. My ass is spectacular and deserves accolades. But our mothers will be there, so…no.”
“Your mother will be there? I’m…shit, I’m shocked, actually.”
He sighed. “We can’t all be lucky enough to have them check out on us early, honey.” He paused, taking stock of what he’d just said, then frowning. “Damn. Too soon?”
My head shook as I bit back a roar of laughter, suddenly conscious of Elaine’s presence. She cleared her throat and pointed left, handing off the dress to Simon.
“Changing area is that way, and my assistant Diandra will help pin you up once you’re in it if it needs altering. If it does, just leave it and I’ll call when it’s ready. If not, take it with. I’ve got a conference call in ten, so I probably won’t see you. Lovely meeting you, Maude. Simon, you better invite me to this shindig or I’m going to feature you in the fashion don’ts column online.”
His hand flew to his chest in mock horror. Or at least I thought it was mock. “You wouldn’t dare.”
She smirked. “Try me.”
Eyes rolling, he draped the dress over his right arm and put his left hand on his hip, pouting. “Fine, you’ll get an invite. But bring someone interesting. You know, not your USUAL date type.”
“Simon, baby…it’s New Years Eve. I’m flying solo and finding someone at the reception to lock lips with at the stroke of midnight. Gay wedding, lots of straight friends, I’m bi…statistically, I can’t lose.”
She waved goodbye and tottered back toward her office, and Simon and I made our way down to the changing area. Though all the way at the rear of the left side of the room, it was wide open to the rest of the space. There were built in wooden benches littered with shoes and gloves and scarves, and the entire back wall was mirrored. We were greeted by a gorgeous woman with dark brown, luminous skin, huge hazel eyes and a smile that rivaled Tom’s mega-watt one. She was wearing a chevron print tank dress in varying shades of chartreuse, shoes that matched the darkest chevrons, and her hair was piled neatly on top of her head and wound with a silk light green scarf. She greeted us first, her Caribbean accent melodic, making even the simplest of words seem important and joyful.
“Hello you two…make yourselves at home, and if you need anything, I’ll be playing in the stacks. Such beautiful clothes…fashion paradise, right here and now!” She laughed, then began searching and sorting. I shimmied out of my shorts and yanked my T-shirt up over my head without fanfare, catching Simon side-eyeing me in the mirror.
“Problem, Simon?”
He snickered. “Oh no, no problem. Just admiring your speed and technique. You could use a little more finesse, though. I had to take points off for that.”
I reached around my back to unhook my bra. “Well, if you don’t want a good, long look at my tits you should probably turn around. Or close your eyes. Something.”
He turned around, then looked down as he passed me the dress when I was ready to attempt to wriggle into it. “You know, you could have left the bra ON. I was joking about the no shame bit.”
“No, I couldn’t have. I’m not going to be able to wear one with it later, so I need to know how it fits without. I see silver star shaped pasties in my future, though. Or maybe nude ones would be better…forgot about the parent factor.”
“Roland’s going to be in the wedding party, too. He’s Luke’s best man. I think he’d probably like the star pasties better, but I suppose I need to exercise some parental moral responsibility at some point, so nude is probably the right choice. Of course I thought of none of this when I saw the dress initially. I was captivated by the shiny.”
Laughing as I lifted the gathered fabric over my head, I had to pause to stop myself from turning around to talk to him. “You? Captivated by shiny? Nope, not possible.” I worked my hand through the armholes and dropped the dress into place. Or tried to. It got stuck on my boobs. “And did you say Roland is Luke’s best man? That is…the sweetest thing ever.”
Simon’s voice was thick with emotion when he replied, as it usually was whenever he mentioned anything Luke and love related. “It is. Totally Luke’s idea, too. I wanted him to be my best man, but Luke thought it would make him feel more…accepted, I guess, if it was the other way around. Worked, too. He was over the moon. They get along so well…it’s just…”
I swiveled my head around when I heard him sniffing. “Simon, don’t you dare cry because then I’ll cry and THE DRESS, dude, THE DRESS.” Carefully, every so carefully, I pulled and slid and tugged until the waist was where it belonged, reached behind me to zip it up, then tucked the girls into place before I looked in the mirror. Though a bit snug in the chest, it was essentially a perfect fit. I didn’t even think it would need hemming if I wore a two inch heel. A nice, chunky heel. Preferably boots with heels. I stared at my reflection, feeling like a princess from some sort of fractured fairytale for I don’t know how long, finally interrupted by the click of a phone camera. Looking up, I saw Simon behind me, taking shot after shot.
“SIMON.” I spun around to face him, any modesty, which had been purely for his benefit because I really DID have no shame, cast completely aside since he’d already seen my nipples, even if it was only technically a reflection of them. “The fuck are you doing?”
He grinned. “Just sending some pictures to your boyfriend. No biggie. You’ll thank me later.”
“You know Simon, I HAVE ENOUGH PROBLEMS ALREADY …” My phone dinged, and I bent over to rummage through my shorts pockets to find it. Text from Tom. Of course.
WOMAN, YOU NEED TO COME HOME RIGHT NOW. – T
Another arrived right after, before I had time to reply.
Okay. I counted backwards from ten and some of the blood that was elsewhere returned to my brain. You look so, SO beautiful. My lord. Just…a vision of loveliness. All that, plus intelligence, humor, everything…my Maude. I am a lucky, lucky man. – T
Thomas, you’re making me blush. And Simon is SO going to bust my balls for it. :P –M
Fucking hell I just zoomed and…nipples…we’re now back to WOMAN, YOU NEED TO COME HOME RIGHT NOW. – T
They will be covered on the night of the wedding, I assure you. :P – M
Well that’s disappointing. :P So, when ARE you coming home? LOL –T
Still have to get dress for tomorrow. Probably two hours, maybe? I need to get this one off because for SOME reason I’m, like, all hot and starting to SWEAT. –M
If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go recite the Serenity Prayer a thousand times now. – T
Actually, though, I thought I’d go to the market and get what we need for the weekend. Mum and Emma can’t make dinner tomorrow, so they’ll just meet us here and then we’ll all head to the gallery, then come back after to talk and such. Anything in particular you want or need while I’m out? – T
Ice cream. Chips and dip. Onion dip, preferably. And is there somewhere you can stop and pick me up an ankle support? I think it’s time to start leaving the boot off as much as I can tolerate…putting weight on the ankle helps it heal faster. Or so they say. Thanks. – M
Will do. Love you. – T
Love you too. I’ll try to stop Simon from sending more pics so you don’t get a stiffy in public. :P –M
Don’t need pics for that, love. All I have to do is think of you and…whoomp, there it is. :P –T
Now that fucking song is going to be stuck in my head. Thanks for that. –M
J You’re welcome. See you soon. –T
Simon was tapping his foot, patience wearing thin. “Christ. Remind me not to do THAT again. So. Get that off. We need to get to Anna and Browns before they close.”
I stripped and put my clothes back on while Simon requested a garment bag from Diandra, and she insisted on zipping it up herself once the dress was in place to ensure nothing snagged. When we reached the car, he carefully laid the bag across the backseat before coming around to open my door. I commented on his backwards priorities, and he told me to shut my pretty mouth and with that, it was off to Anna, which Simon said was in the opposite direction but closed earlier so that was where we need to go first.
Located nearly right across from Regent’s Park, Anna was a two story boutique featuring unique designer clothing…their words, not mine. Simon refused help from a stylist, opting instead to let me browse around like a cow grazing in an open field. Most of the stock was entirely not my taste, but I did manage to find a funky grey tie-dyed pattern long-sleeve T-shirt style dress, and Simon brought me a white sweater dress with black horizontal stripes. There was no way I was ever wearing it in public, but I agreed to try it on. Both wound up being meh at best, so we wrote them off, cut our losses and drove to Browns.
The Browns Flagship store was vast, taking up five repurposed interconnecting townhouses, offering all styles and types of designer fashions as well as accessories. Simon had to drag me away from the first shoe display we came across and into the racks…and there were so many racks. SO. MANY. After narrowing it down to three dresses, we traversed to the fitting room, where Simon waited outside for me after the counter girl cleared her throat when he attempted to follow me inside.
First I tried on a Givenchey short sleeve wrap-style dress, black satin, and as soon as I saw how the bunched material made my boobs look lopsided as all get out, off it came. Next was a Christopher Kane sleeveless bandage dress, totally funky, the dress medium grey, horizontal piping of the same color, with a black and white zipper running up the entire length of its front. The hem reached to four or five inches above my knee, and it was…tight. But in a good way, though I questioned if it made my ass look huge. Simon’s reaction shot down that theory when I walked out of the fitting room.
“That’s the one. That’s it. Turn. Your tushie looks fantastic. Woo! Now you just need shoes…”
“Hold on, cowboy. There’s one more to try on and it’s my favorite.”
He sighed. “But this one is perfect.”
I flipped him off and went back into my cubicle, hung the bandage dress back on its hanger, then tried on the Balenciaga black leather and silk dress that had screamed BUY ME from the second I saw it. The structured bodice was spaghetti-strap halter style, leather, with a sweetheart neckline and a silver zipper that ran from the top to the waist of the dress. The skirt was silk, airy, and lightly pleated, creating a gentle wave effect at the hemline. It was a bitch to get into, and I yet again had to remove my bra, but once I zipped it and adjusted the décolletage was unbelievably impressive. The skirt brushed the very top of my shins, just below my knee, and it felt like…ME. Though after San Diego I thought I’d never consider wearing them again, I knew it would look amazing with my Diva Darcies. I marched out to meet Simon, though it was really only half marching/half something awkward and strange because of the boot, and he gasped.
“Holy fuckamoley, you look like…like…I don’t know. Goth biker chick? Bad ass motherfucker? Dominatrix? All of that? I still think the bandage dress is better for tomorrow, but you NEED to buy this one too. It screams ‘dance all night long with Simon at Studio 338’. When you CAN dance again, we are SO going.” He frowned. “When’s that heinous ankle contraption coming off, anyway? It’s not adding anything to either dress, if you know what I mean.”
I rolled my eyes. “I am AWARE. And I have it covered, I think. It’s much better than it was, surprisingly so since it’s only been a week. Way I figure, if I can find a nice sturdy pair of boots to wear and combine it with the ankle support Tom’s picking up for me, maybe, just MAYBE I can get away without it tomorrow night. But…buy both? This one’s seventeen hundred bucks, the other is eleven hundred. How do I justify spending that on…two dresses? That’s insane.”
He tilted his head and pointed at me. “Um, honey, your man is famous. Wait until it’s red carpet time.”
Raising a brow, I shifted my hips back and forth, regaling in the feel of the silk against my legs. “Simon. Bullshit. Have you forgotten what I’ve done for a living? I’m not a total newb. Those are usually LOANERS.”
“Fine. I was just trying to make you feel justified. SO unappreciative, Maude.”
I snorted, then returned to the fitting room to change back into my street clothes. Simon was my dress donkey for this mission, snarking on the occasional pair of shoes as I perused the available selection.
“Yuck. Open toe, yet not open toe.” He held up a pair of peek-a-boo sandals. “MAKE A CHOICE, PEOPLE.”
All the boots were ordinary, leather, fold over cuffs, zippers…nothing caught my eye. Around the corner was another display, and I finally saw a pair that got me all ‘grabby hands shut up and take my money’. They were black, moderately shiny, semi-slouchy with eleven black metal round rivet-like buttons up the outer sides, zippers on the inside for easy on and off. The brand was Miz Mooz, the style Bloom. The clerk located my size within the space of five minutes, and when I tried the left one on I was pleased to see that they came all the way up to my knees. Simon nodded his approval, I took of the ped I’d been given, put my sandal back on and three thousand dollars later we were out the door and headed home. Simon insisted on stopping for coffee at Kaffeine, and though it was against my better judgement I ordered an espresso to put an end to his incessant whining about how I was so much less fun that he’d thought. When he chided me for putting sugar in it, I responded by adding more. It hit me just as we pulled into his spot in the parking garage, and by the time we got to our floor he was quite contented to pass off all the bags to Tom and run for his own flat as he yelled ‘good luck with her, honey’.
Tom placed the dresses on the back of the couch and the boot box on the floor as I followed him like a puppy, trying to skip but failing miserably. He turned to me, arms crossed.
“What did he mean by that?”
I speed shrugged. “Well, could be he’s fed up with shopping because I don’t really like what he likes, though the maid of honor dress, that’s, wow, but, like he picked out this stripey thing and I felt like Sailor Moon when I put it on but wait, she wears a pinafore or something so maybe it’s Twiggy, the model, yeah, it was really late sixties and though wow I’m SO not Twiggy at all but you know what I mean OR it could have something to do with…the espresso. Probably the espresso. Espresso.”
He smirked as he uncrossed his arms and closed the distance between us. “What on earth possessed him to let you drink espresso?”
Speed shrugging again, I reached out and began fiddling with the waistband of his jeans, untucking his white T-shirt from them. “I don’t KNOW. I told him already like three times that coffee and I are like NO, NOT COMPATIBLE, yet he was all ESPRESSO, you have to have some because if you don’t, so BORING and then he made fun of me for putting sugar in it but fucking A it was bitter and WHY do people drink it like that it’s NASTY…” I’d unbuttoned his jeans and had begun to unzip them when his hands covered mine. I looked up at him. “Wow, how did THAT happen? Seriously, I have no idea it’s just you’re there and that white T-shirt and do you want to fuck me because I really need you to fuck me, like, right now because all day long I’ve been thinking about you touching yourself and…”
His lips met mine, and I responded aggressively, biting down on his lip, then searching for his tongue and sucking on it vigorously, pulling away to stare at him. “Thomas. I love your mouth. The way you taste. Your lips, your tongue, what they do to me…” I dove back in, and his own response was first a gasp, then a moan, followed by his lip sucking trick that made me come instantly every single time, this one no exception.
“Wow, oh my god, Tom, I so wasn’t ready for that yet but I guess I WAS ready, ha, right? Will you do it again? Do it again.”
Three of my orgasms later, he was shaking with his own pent up desire, looking over his shoulder at the couch, then over mine into the kitchen. He turned me around, propelling me past the dining table with his hands on my shoulders while growling in my ear.
“I’m going to fuck you on the counter. Is that all right? Fucking you on the counter?”
I tilted my head to the left. “Fucking me on the counter. Yes. Yes please. I would like you to fuck me on the counter. SO totally all right. Totally.”
As soon as we rounded the corner he yanked my shorts and underwear down, and I kicked them to the side as he lifted me up and plopped me on the cold stone, my back to the living room, one hand on my jaw to keep me focused on his face, my eyes locked on his.
“Now. I have to run upstairs for just one very brief moment. You’ll stay right here and wait for me, won’t you?”
Nodding six times, I began swinging my legs back and forth as he bolted from the kitchen. “I’m still right here, Tom. But my poor, poor pussy…she’s very lonely, soaking wet, all excited but there’s no one to play with her…”
There was a loud crash from upstairs, followed by a litany of fucks and shits, then his rapid footfalls as he raced down the stairs, appearing in front of me with the ankle brace I’d requested and a chair from the dining room. He sat in the chair and began unbuckling the walking boot, slipping it off carefully as he met my gaze.
“Sorry, love. Your pussy is a meal that demands to be savored, and I can’t very well have that boot digging into my shoulders while I enjoy my feast, can I?”
“Well I was under the impression that you’d be fucking me, like really, really HARD and right NOW but…” I reached down and grabbed his head with both hands, pushing it towards my crotch. He pulled away, smirking.
“Ah ah ah, we’ve got to put the brace on first.” He pulled it over my foot, and as my ankle rolled sideways I felt a stab of fire within the joint that made me suck in a quick breath. “Sorry, love. Almost there.”
Both my hands gripped the edge of the countertop. “It’s fine. Totally fine. Do it. Just do it. Worth the pain. Worth it. Make it worth it.”
He tugged it into place, pulled the chair in closer, situated himself precisely, then placed my feet on his shoulders. His head was as the perfect height, face still visible to me yet strategically placed for…going down. As his hands pulled my ass closer to the edge and spread me open, his long, pink tongue unfurling, I realized that from my own angle, I’d be able to see…everything. He began at my taint, running his tongue up the middle, it dipping into my entrance just enough to make me push down on his shoulders with my feet and thrust my hips forward, then abandoning that particular ship in order to circle my clit, which he took between his teeth, then sucked into his mouth, staring at me the entire time.
“Tom. Tom. TOM. Mygodmygodmygod. Suck harder. Come on. Harder.” He ignored me at first, but I kept repeating it louder and louder until he complied, and I could tell by his eyes that he was extremely entertained by my insistence. I was not entertained when he stopped abruptly, though before I could protest I watched him stiffen his tongue and ease it inside me and suddenly, I forgot about everything else as my brain tried to process the visual of it moving in and out of me in conjunction with the way it made me FEEL. The moment his thumb touched my clit I began humping his face, him rubbing and thrusting furiously at the same time, and as the index finger of his other hand slid inside my ass I came, loudly chanting for him to fuck my ass harder and get that tongue DEEPER. It seemed I closed my eyes only for a second when I felt my legs moving upward, feet dangling over something until the backs of my knees hit solidity, hands on my shoulder blades and arms against my ribcage.
I opened them to find his eyes inches from mine, wild, pupils blown wide, my juices coating his countenance and dripping down his chin, his lips glossy with it. He grinned, the salaciousness of it making me shiver, and settled the head of his cock at my entrance.
“Now, Maude. NOW I’m going to fuck you. Really, really hard.”
His hips thrust forward as he sheathed himself fully, then began bucking frenziedly. I hung like a rag doll in his grasp, still limp from orgasm, allowing his pounding to move me until he froze, asking me to hold myself up for a moment as he first removed his shirt, then my own, as well as my bra. My legs still over his shoulders, he leaned forward, bending me almost completely in half in order to press his chest to mine, arms behind me and holding me up once again. His thrusting resumed and grew ever desperate, his eyes never leaving mine. I could feel myself nearing the top of another peak, the tension in my belly becoming too powerful to ignore, and I clamped down on him.
His eyes closed for a second, then opened as he fought to keep himself from coming. “Is your pussy still lonely, Maude?”
I shook my head, my hands reaching up to touch his face, his cheekbones under my fingertips, then his jaw, and his still moist lips. “No. Nope. Not. Happy. Full. She’s very, very full…but there’s still a little bit of room in there if you have, you know, a little something ELSE for her.” I released, then squeezed again, and again. His balls slapped against me noisily as he resumed his onslaught, grunting and groaning and gasping.
“Oh, I have some…some…something…for…ohgodohgod…fuck me, I’m coming, I’m COMING and COMING…”
I came as well as his warmth coated my shuddering walls, and he was so lost in pleasure that he let go of me, and I found myself looking at an upside-down dining table as my head and neck sprawled backward over the countertop. I could hear his usual post-orgasm noises, tiny gasps and chirps and moans, and as the blood rushed to my head I thought perhaps I should mention my precarious position but he took notice before I was able to form the words.
“Oh, fuck, Maude, my god, I’m SO sorry are you all right?” He put one arm around my upper shoulders, bracing me as he pulled out and eased my legs off his shoulders, then peered behind me to see if I’d hurt myself on the edge of the counter. “Christ, what a tit I am…are you okay?” He felt around with his fingers, and when I didn’t flinch he pulled me up so I was sitting, dribbling cum all over the orange surface beneath me.
“I. Am. Fine. Fine. And I think…I think the espresso might be wearing off. I’m actually a little…tired.” I snickered. “Could just be the blood draining back into my body, though.”
His head hung down, shaking back and forth, then lifted to pepper my face with kisses. “I’m so, so sorry about that. I just…I came so hard I couldn’t…I couldn’t see, really.” It was his turn to snicker. “Thanks for that. Maude Gallagher, supplier of orgasms so powerful that she jeopardizes her own personal safety in the process.”
I kissed him, tasting myself on his lips. “I blame the espresso. And Simon.” He laughed, and I paused, reviewing my vocalizations. “I was loud, wasn’t I?” He nodded. “I hope they heard me. That’ll teach him a lesson he won’t soon forget.”
Tom chuckled. “Love, I’m afraid the neighbors two houses down may have heard you. And anyone walking by on the street. And people in their cars with the windows up…”
“Yeah. Well. They should probably, you know, get used to it.”
He initiated the kiss this time, his tongue thrusting in to massage mine. “They’d better. Because I love making you scream. Maybe more than Shakespeare, even.”
“Thomas. Be serious.”
He grinned. “I AM being serious. And I’ve decided that I do, in fact, love it more than Shakespeare. Without a doubt.”
I sat, motionless and wordless, for a few moments. “How am I supposed to respond to that kind of compliment?”
He licked me, tongue starting at my clavicle, moving up my neck, across my jaw and up to my temple. “Let me make you scream again?”
My head tilted as I looked up at the ceiling, pretending to ponder. “You know what? That totally works for me.”
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First, Do No Harm Chapter 5
Summary: During the 5+ years aboard the Ark, Murphy stumbles into becoming the designated doctor.
(Or: The Space Squad struggles to survive on the Ring, and Murphy learns how to make friends.)
Relationships: John Murphy/Emori, Murphy & all of the Space Squad, background Marper and Bellarke
Chapter Summary: Emori and Murphy work up an appetite, Echo gives Murphy something to think about, and Murphy does something stupid.
Sorry for the long hiatus this fic has been on - I lost a lot of steam with it for a bit. But I'm back on track and ready to see this through until the end!! Don't worry - there's still a lot more coming.
Once again, all my love and thanks to @infernalandmortal, the best editor in the world!
Previous Chapters
Read on ao3
Chapter Five: Fisa
The algae farm team is granted one extra shower each after dealing with the composter, but it doesn’t help much. They don’t have any soap aboard the Ring, and there’s only so much that rinsing off with water will do. The smell stays.
It’s not just the algae farm team, either – everyone’s starting to smell more than a little ripe. Two weeks of sweat and BO have built up into a truly repulsive cocktail of stenches.
The Ring reeks, and there’s nothing they can do about it.
Murphy thinks he should be used to it. He’s been dirtier than this before, and he definitely went longer than two weeks without a shower in the bunker, but it’s one thing to be alone with your own stench and another to be trapped in close space with six other unwashed, smelly human beings. He misses the luxury of frequent showers that Becca’s island had provided. What he wouldn’t give right now to have some of her ancient, but still sweet-smelling, soap.
The algae team are loath to put their dirty clothes back on. Harper wasn’t really exaggerating about the smell latching onto them, and the thought of wearing them again is almost as repulsive as filling the composter was. Which is how the three of them end up digging through the handful of guard uniforms and undershirts collected in the supply room. Harper and Monty look right at home in the uniforms, though Harper’s jacket hangs a little large on her, and she has to roll the sleeves up to keep them from falling over her hands.
Murphy hesitates before taking one himself. For a moment, he holds the jacket in his hands and stares hard at the familiar logo on the sleeve. It’s easy to pull up the old, familiar hate; he thinks that it probably never leaves, just simmers quietly under his skin waiting to boil.
He remembers the guards that came to take his father. He remembers the guards that came to take him.
“What’s wrong?” Monty asks as he’s adjusting his own uniform.
“Nothing,” Murphy snaps, stuffing the memories away as he balls the jacket up into a wad and shoves it back on the shelf with the others.
His hair keeps falling in his face. With an irritated huff, Murphy pushes it away from his eyes; it only takes a few moments for it to fall forward again.
Emori laughs at him from where she lays stretched out across their bed, and he sticks his tongue out at her in response, which only makes her laugh harder. Her head scarf is off now that they’re alone, lying discarded next to their bed with the rest of her many layers and her glove. Without it, he can see that her hair looks just as greasy as his, shining in the overhead lights. It’s much neater than his, though, and better kept. The braid he did for her this morning is still in place, and he knows from running his fingers through it that it’s not nearly as knotted as his own.
“Maybe I should start wearing my hair in braids like you,” he mutters, and she snorts.
“You’d look like a Kyongedon,” she says. “Besides, there’s not enough of it, and I can’t braid it.”
“It’d keep it out of my way,” he says, and Emori sits up.
“Sit down,” she says, gesturing towards the floor in front of her; he does as he’s told. Her hands begin combing through his hair, and he relaxes into the sensation, until they catch on a knot and tug sharply at his roots. He yelps in pain.
“Sorry,” Emori says, but keeps tugging. “I can’t comb through it. It’s so tangled.”
“Yeah, it’s – fuck! Emori!” Murphy shouts, wincing at every tug. It feels like she’s trying to rip it out of his head.
She sighs deeply and releases his hair. When he glances back at her, he almost laughs. Her face is twisted up in a pout, and she’s giving his matted locks a fierce glare, annoyed by her defeat.
“How did you even let it get this bad?” He shrugs, and Emori huffs. “I should just cut it all off,” she gripes.
“That’d be better than you just ripping it out like you were trying.”
She smooths her hands over it, fiddling with the ends, then grabs her knife from where she keeps it beside their bed. “I could? If you really want it out of your way.”
Murphy shrugs. “Yeah, sure, why not.” He’s never much cared how he looks; even if she screws it up, it’ll grow back eventually.
Emori directs his face forward. Her movements are gentler than when she had been tugging through the knots. They both fall quiet as she works, only the sounds of their breathing and her knife against his matted hair breaking the silence of the room. The air is warm and calm; Murphy sinks into it gladly, content with the weight of her presence behind him and the soft, flittering touch of her hands against his scalp.
It’s only when she gets near the back of his neck that he tenses without thinking, his body reacting before his mind can even catch up. Emori stops.
From where they hang over his crossed knees, he can see his hands shaking. He wills them to still, but they ignore him. The air in the room drops from pleasant to suffocating in an instant, pushing against him like a heavy weight - pushing against his chest. Murphy struggles to keep his breathing calm and even, but he can't seem to get enough air, and the weight on his chest is growing heavier and heavier, like something sitting on it, on him, crushing his lungs, his throat, and he can't breath.
His senses kick into overdrive; he's incredibly aware of Emori’s presence behind him, of her body heat near the skin of his neck. He feels his shirt collar where it lays.
“Keep going,” he snaps. He feels stuffed into a body one size too small; his skin is tight. He makes his voice mean to hide the shaking. “Don’t leave me looking stupid with half a haircut just because I’m a dumbass.”
“You’re not a dumbass,” Emori says gently, ignoring his tone.
I am, he wants to argue. He wants to point out that when he was in his room alone, he had to stretch the collar of his new shirt out until it lay loose around his neck. Or the fact that he props their door open every night and panicked once to the point of choking when she accidentally let it slam closed. Isn’t he a dumbass for still being so scared of things that happened in the past?
The light touch of something warm presses against the back of his neck. The skin beneath it buzzes and burns. It takes him a minute to realize it’s Emori’s lips as she presses a gentle kiss to the scar tissue that can only be seen when the light hits it just right. His body surprises him by not panicking, but maybe he shouldn't be surprised at all - it's Emori at his neck, and he trusts her with his life.
“Do you think I’m stupid for having nightmares?” she asks softly against his skin, her words muffled.
“No, of course not,” he assures her honestly. He’s never once thought her stupid or weak for fearing the life she’s had.
“Then why would you think I’d think the same of you?”
He has no answer. It seems obvious when she says it, her voice strong and steady with conviction, but he can’t convince himself of it.
Emori’s hands stroke down his arms – up and down in soothing waves, rhythmic and calming. He's reminded of the way their boat used to bob in the water and lull them to sleep when they’d anchored for the night. Murphy leans back into her, closing the space between them; she shifts her face from his neck to his shoulder to accommodate him.
“Sometimes, I get worried when I see Bellamy out of the corner of my eye,” she confesses into the fabric of his shirt.
He jolts upwards again, but she grabs his arms tight and pulls him back to her. “Why – has he done something?
“No, of course not. He’s been nothing but kind to me. But his hair looks a lot like Baylis’s did.” That’s all she has to say. “I’ll see him, and – and for a minute I’ll think he’s here, and I’ll panic. Even if I know –” She swallows, and her voice is disgusted and angry when she continues, “Even if I know the planhaka died in Praimfiya like he deserved.”
“He deserved worse,” Murphy spits. Emori hums in agreement, then leans forward as much as she can to kiss his cheek; he turns around completely to meet her lips in a real kiss. “I love you,” he says when they part, and how incredible is it that he still hasn’t tired of saying it?
“I love you, too,” she tells him. He hasn’t tired of that either.
Emori kisses him once more, then pulls away and picks up her knife again. “Now turn around so I can finish your hair.”
Murphy obeys. When she starts cutting the hair by his neck again, he forces himself to calm, focusing on his breathing as she works. The weight is still there, but it's lessened, and he finds that he can breathe around it. When she’s finished, she brushes the loose hair away and runs her fingers through her completed work. He’s sure it’s still greasy and disgusting, but at least she can comb her fingers through it without hitting a knot.
“There. Much better,” she tells him, satisfied.
Murphy reaches back to run his own hands through it. They don’t have a mirror in their room, so he’ll have to seek one out later to see what he looks like. His head feels lighter than usual, and it’s weird to feel it so short on the sides. He’s never worn his hair this short before.
“Thanks.” He turns to grin at her. “I could do yours now.”
Emori narrows her eyes at him. “Don’t you dare.”
“What? I think you’d look cute with short hair,” he assures her.
“But then how would you braid it?”
He shrugs. “I’d get creative.”
“Maybe another time,” she says, then in one fluid motion slips from the bed onto his lap. He grunts at the sudden weight, then shoots her an eager grin and wraps his arms around her back. “But I have a better idea of what we could do right now.”
“Oh, do you?” he asks with a laugh. Emori grins impishly at him, eyes bright with amusement, then pushes him backwards until he’s lying flat on the ground with her perched on top of him.
“I think you’ll like it,” she says as she leans down to meet him and captures his lips in her own.
Afterwards, Murphy just feels hungry. Part of him feels satisfied, content to lie tangled up in Emori on their bedroom floor, the blankets from their bed pulled half off and haphazardly over them, but it’s hard to appreciate when faced with the empty pit that is his stomach. Sex with Emori is always fun, but exertion made the hunger worse.
He’s sure Emori feels the same; she has less energy than usual afterwards, could hardly move just to shift into a more comfortable possible against him, and lays like a deadweight against him now. His suspicions are confirmed when her stomach growls loudly.
“Yeah, me too,” he says, and she grunts.
“Ration day tomorrow,” she mumbles into his shoulder, the words slurring together in her exhaustion.
“Yay,” he says unenthusiastically. Their rations are so small they’re more a taunt than anything actually satisfying. He’ll probably feel just as bad after they eat tomorrow as he does now. “Guess we are starving to death together after all,” he can’t help but say. If the result is the same, maybe the lighthouse would have been better; he and Emori could just have sex until their dying day and not have to think about anyone else, or how they were going to grow food, or worry about Azgedan spies out to get them.
“No, we’re not,” Emori says. “Not yet.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, voice soft. He seeks out her hand where it’s laying against his collarbone and knits their fingers together with a gentle squeeze. She squeezes back. They’re still alive, and there’s still hope. “Not yet.”
Since Raven has finished fixing the heater, Murphy decides to try his luck asking her about the medical files again. The longer the medicine sits unidentified, the antsier he gets about it. Already he’s imagined a million different scenarios where one of them falls sick – usually Emori – and the medicine to help them sits untouched because they didn’t know what it was. The thought fills him with a sort of dread he doesn’t know how to articulate and a certainty that they can’t let that happen.
Raven isn’t in any of her usual haunts. He traipses back and forth across the Ring with the tablet from Medical searching for her, until finally he nears the airlock on the side of the Ring usually unvisited by the seven of them and catches the tail end of an argument.
He hears Raven first, voice loud and thick with anger. “Well, in case you forgot, no one actually appointed you our leader, Bellamy.” She spits his name like a curse.
Murphy halts in the middle of the hallway, both intrigued by the argument and the raw anger in her voice – anger at Bellamy is something he’s intimately familiar with – and afraid to keep walking straight into the middle of that shitshow. He stands as quietly as he can.
“I’m just trying to look out for us – “ Bellamy argues back, before Raven cuts him off.
“No, you’re not! You’re worried about your sister.”
“We don’t know if they made it, Raven,” Bellamy says, and Murphy doesn’t need to see his face to read his desperation.
“We don’t know if we’re going to make it, Bellamy! We have to focus on us first. Clarke didn’t die so we could –“
“Shut up.” Bellamy’s voice is cold and pained. For a moment, Murphy almost regrets eavesdropping; he’s not supposed to hear this – not Bellamy this vulnerable. If he was a better person, he’d turn around now and avoid overhearing anything else, head back to his room and come find Raven later.
He stays rooted in the hallway.
“What? Just because you don’t want to say it, or talk about it, or fucking admit it, doesn’t mean it’s not true. She’s dea-“
“SHUT UP!” The yell is punctuated by the loud, echoing bang of something hitting metal – like someone’s thrown their fist against the wall of the Ark. It rings through the air, and, as the echoing fades away, silence settles uneasily in the spaces it left, feeling incredibly precarious, like a powder keg about to blow. Murphy realizes he’s holding his breath.
“Bellamy,” Raven says, and Murphy tenses, afraid of the explosion, but her voice is softer and stripped of most of her previous anger. It sounds like a plea as she says, “Not talking about it isn’t going to change it. And making choices because you’re worried about Octavia isn’t going to keep us alive.”
“I know.” Bellamy sounds utterly defeated. It’s uncomfortable to hear. “Sorry, I just – I don’t know how to do this without her, Raven. I always fuck it up when it’s just me.”
“Well, it’s not just you, you dumbass. I’m with you, remember?”
“Yeah,” Bellamy agrees, but there’s little conviction in it. “I’ll leave you alone.”
When he turns the corner, Murphy gets a good look at him for the first time in a couple days, and the state he’s fallen into since he last saw him is shocking. He’s clearly been neglecting shaving, and his beard is unruly. His hair is equally as bad – worse even than Murphy’s had been thanks to the curls. His face is drawn; his eyes are lined with dark, purple bags. He’s looks skeletal and sad, and it makes something in Murphy twist to see it.
When he sees Murphy standing there, he scowls. “What are you doing here?”
“Eavesdropping” seems like the wrong response, so Murphy shrugs in an attempt to look innocent and stutters, “I was just, uh – I was looking for Raven. Heard you guys talking down this way.”
Bellamy looks like he knows Murphy heard more than he was supposed to, but also like he can’t be bothered to care about it. He gestures back over his shoulder. “She’s over that way.” And without another word, he shuffles along the corridor, slow and slumped and zombie-like. Murphy stares after him for a moment because he can’t help himself, something a lot like pity squirming in his stomach. Then he shakes it off and rounds the corner to find Raven.
She’s standing in the airlock; the doors to space are securely shut, but the doors to the Ring are wide open, and it makes him nervous as he approaches, even if he has confidence Raven knows what she’s doing. She’s fitting a welding helmet over her head and frowns when she spots him.
“If whatever it is isn’t life-threatening, I don’t want to hear it,” she snaps, then turns away from him to face the wall.
“That’s a rude welcome. Maybe I just came to ask how you’re doing.” she turns again to level him with a disbelieving look, and he shrugs. “Okay, fine. I need your help with something.”
“Of course you do,” Raven scoffs as pulls her face plate down. The next sentence comes out muffled, but it doesn't hide the exasperation. “Everyone does.”
Murphy watches her study the wall for a minute and concludes that, like Bellamy, she’s looking worse than she did even a few days ago when he last saw her. Maybe they all are. Cutting down their rations hasn't been easy on anyone. “But I can ask how you’re doing while I’m here.”
She pushes the face plate up again but doesn’t turn around to face him. “Well, I’m exhausted and starving, there’s about fifty things I have to fix on the Ring and people keep giving me other requests,” it’s clear she’s talking about Bellamy and whatever mess he’d overheard, “and I haven’t showered in…what….three weeks? I smell like the inside of a shoe.”
“Wow,” he says, “that good?”
“Shut up,” she mutters without much heat.
Murphy glances back the way Bellamy came, and, though he knows he shouldn’t admit to overhearing, his curiosity gets the better of him. “What was that all about?”
Raven groans. “Bellamy wants me to try fixing the radio. So we can talk to the bunker.”
Murphy perks up. There’s no one in the bunker he really cares to talk to, but if they could talk to the bunker, he could ask Abby about the medicine. “Can you?”
“I don’t know,” she sighs. “There’s a lot of variables. Maybe we get our side fixed, but the bunker radio is still messed up. Maybe we can’t even fix our side. I told him it’s not worth the effort right now. It’s more important that I fix all these damn cracks in the Ring.”
“Cracks?” he asks, heart rate spiking.
“Relax, with me here, you’re fine. But the rest of the Ark leaving did a number on the Ring.” She bends down to set her tools on the ground, and as she stands up straight again, she flinches, wincing in pain. “Fuck,” she mutters, and he watches a hand go to press against her leg – her bad one – with dread.
“You okay?” he asks, afraid of the answer.
She stays half-hunched for a moment, eyes pinched shut as she breathes out through her mouth, before steeling herself and standing straight again. “I’m fine,” she says tersely, waving off his concern. “What’d you need?”
As much as he wants to ask why it’s bothering her, he also has no desire to know. Shame burns like a fire in his chest, but he ignores it and holds up the tablet. “There’s a bunch of medicine left, but I’m not sure what it is. This was in Medical. Figured there might be something on here that says what it is? And what it’s for?”
Raven purses her lips and raises an eyebrow at him. “And that’s life-threatening how?” she prompts.
“Hey, it’s life-threatening if someone gets sick and we don’t know how to treat them.”
She considers that for a moment, then nods. “Fair. Alright, hand it over.” As she begins messing with it, he steps up next to her so he can watch over her shoulder and try and follow her. After a few minutes of clicking on, what looks to him, random things without reason, she sighs, and says, “The Ark server is down. Probably thanks to take off. Again. I’ll have to get it up and running again before we know.”
He’s not sure what that means, but he’s glad she understands it. “And can you fix it?”
“Who do I think I am?” she scoffs. “Give me a couple days.”
Someone knocks on his bedroom door that evening when he’s there alone, and he looks up to see Echo standing in the doorway. She holds herself stiff and awkward, as if she knows she isn’t exactly wanted there. Murphy tries to hold back his sneer. He’s not quite sure he succeeds, but he honestly can’t be too bothered about it. He’s just relieved she came by while Emori was taking her weekly shower; then again, it’s possible Echo might have planned it that way on purpose.
“What do you want?” he asks. Like usual, she doesn’t react much, emotions locked away behind a mask as cold as the land she hails from, but her lips quirk downwards just slightly at his tone. Reading her even that much feels like a victory.
“I’m not going to hurt Emori, if that’s what you’re so angry about.”
Looks like she has no trouble reading him. “Why do you think I’m angry?” he asks, not willing to give up so easily.
The mask falls as Echo rolls her eyes. “Because I’m not foolish,” she huffs. “I know you’ve been avoiding me more than usual since she and I started working together. And I’ve seen you whenever we’re in the same room, staring at me like I’m going to cut her throat if you aren’t watching. I won’t.” She adds forcefully when he glares at her.
“But Azgeda does kill mutants, don’t they?” he snaps. The clan name feels vile on his tongue; he hope it sounds vile coming out.
“I am Azgeda no more,” Echo growls, the words staccato and heavy, spit through clenched teeth. It is the angriest he has ever heard her, and the most emotive, too. Her arms are tight and drawn like bow strings at her sides. She blinks several times, rapidly, but it doesn’t hide the tears forming there. “I have no reason to kill her. I swear to you I won’t hurt her.”
Easy words to say. He’s not sure if he believes that she’s being honest, and his fear for Emori outweighs his willingness to trust her. Even so, it’s reassuring to hear; most of his anger quiets and calms.
“Why are you here?” he asks.
Echo holds out her arm – the one he stitched up roughly a week ago. He can see the uneven stitches from across the room.
“Can you check that this is healing correctly?”
“Why are you coming to me?” he can't help but ask, since he thought his recent anger at her might have deterred her.
Confusion pinches her eyebrows together. “You’re our fisa, aren’t you? Our healer?” she corrects in English, after he fails to understand.
Shock knocks the air out of him as well as if she’d punched him. The concept is so completely baffling he isn’t quite sure how to process it. Sure, he’d stitched up some cuts and thrown some bandages on Monty’s hands – but that certainly didn’t make him a healer. No one had ever mistaken him for a doctor, before.
“I’m not,” he says, fumbling over the words. The other members of the hundred would probably laugh if they were here – right? John Murphy: doctor. There’s a joke.
“You’re not?” Echo asks, looking as confused as he feels. “Didn’t you treat Monty’s hands? And stitch up my cut?”
He can’t deny that he had, but he doesn’t understand her leap in logic from a few simple things to thinking he’s a doctor. Then again, there's also his obsession with Medical and all the time he's spent there taking inventory and trying to access old medical files. And his compulsion to identify the medicines. But all of that is just precaution. Fear. He has the sad backstory to preach the importance of medical care, after all.
“I – uh, yeah,” he says. “But I’m no healer. I don’t know anything more than that.”
Echo takes this in, then shrugs. “Even so, you can tell me if my arm is healing correctly, right? You stitched it up in the first place.”
He stands up and approaches her to get a better look. Like he predicted, it’s going to scar noticeably, but he doubts Echo cares much. The wound still looks tender, even though it looks, as far as he can tell, like it’s healing correctly. At the very least there’s no sign of infection, the importance of which Emori had drilled into him the first time he sutured one of her wounds.
“Looks about right. Give it another week, and we can take the stitches out.”
When she leaves, the word healer lingers in the room, and he can’t stop turning it over and over in his head like the right angle will make sense of it.
The atmosphere in the algae farm remains hopeful after the composter incident – or Operation Shit, as Murphy’s been calling it. The algae might not be growing, but at least they’re working on another solution – and even though limiting their rations is miserable, it is buying them time. Like Emori said, they’re not quite starving to death yet.
There’s still hope.
The three of them are comfortable in a way they weren’t before. Harper doesn’t look like she wants to rip Murphy’s head off every time he looks at her anymore, and they move more easily around each other than they had previously.
Still, going without food is hard, and the hunger is draining on all of them.
Murphy feels constantly empty. In the emptiness, the anger begins to flourish. The bossy way Monty gives his instructions in the farm grates on him. Emori’s tendency to throw her clothing and the few personal items she’s squirreled away from around the Ring all over their room in messy piles drives him nuts. Harper has a terrible habit of humming under her breath as they work that makes him want to scream.
The irritation builds, and he starts to bow to it. He snaps back at Monty’s directions even as he carries them out. He tosses Emori’s messes in the corner of their room without care so he stops tripping over them. He tells Harper her damn, tuneless humming is haunting his nightmares.
Murphy’s never been the nicest person even in the best situations, but now, tired and hungry and increasingly worried about starving to death, he gets mean. Harper and Monty, just as irritable and hungry, match him insult for insult. The peace in the farm starts to splinter.
There is something utterly devastating about walking into the farm for the fifth day in a row to find no sign of growth. The hope that Murphy had been clinging to crumbles.
“We’re fucked, aren’t we?” he demands before anyone else can say anything.
“We went over our timeline together,” Monty snaps. “It’s not completely hopeless yet. Give it some more time.”
“I’ve given it time – we’ve all given you time! And food! But we’re no better off than when we landed.” He eyes Monty up, hoping he can look as disdainful as he feels. “I’m starting to think you’re just a shitty farmer.”
The room grows tight with tension. Monty bristles. “You wouldn’t even know what to do without –“
Murphy cuts him off, and he knows he’s going to regret this before he even speaks, but the words, hot and heavy with anger and fear, bubble up in him, and he wants to claw at Monty until he feels as miserable as he does, so he opens his mouth and lets them spill. “Or maybe you’re screwing us on purpose so you can take the coward’s way out like Jasp—“
Monty punches him before he can finish the name. Murphy feels his head snap back, and the force of the blow against his eye and skull, and the peace between them shattering, just like that.
“We should have left you to burn,” Monty hisses. His voice is so cold it makes the hair on the back of Murphy’s neck stand on end. He wonders briefly, wildly, if Monty will kill him - if throwing the one thing he refuses to talk about in his face is an offense worthy of revenge. And then Murphy straightens his head, throws a hand up to rub at his throbbing skin, and throws a glare at Monty as poisonous and angry as he can manage.
“Get out,” Harper growls. Murphy thinks if he lingers, she might take her own swing at him.
He doesn’t hesitate. He turns tail and storms out, angry and bitter in a way he can't contain - for the Ark. For the never-ending stream of shittiness life keeps throwing at him.
For himself.
Some healer he’s turning out to be.
notes: Kyongedon - Trigedasleng word for “Grounder”
#john murphy#the 100#the 100 fic#the 100 fanfic#emori#memori#space squad#spacekru#space kru#echo#raven reyes#bellamy blake#monty green#harper mcintyre#memori fic#dailymemori#bc there's lots in this chapter#first do no harm#murphy fic#my stories
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an unbelievably beautiful day
If you wantto give me feedback, please comment here - https://archiveofourown.org/works/14987174
Bellamy closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window. The sun was heating up his back and while he enjoyed the warm feeling, he wished for nothing more than not sitting where he was. The air was stuffy, everyone was sweating and the heat got even worse with the sun constantly shining through the windows. Oh, what would he give not being stuck inside this stupid streetcar on his way home. Just like dozens other people who called it a day.
Usually he would sit on his bike right now, riding the ten miles home. The air would be so fresh and sweet and not as toxic as in here. He would probably stop by his favorite pub for a short well-earned and cold beer. At this thought alone, of what he was missing out, the delicious taste of the ice cold drink, Bellamy’s throat got dry and he sighed regretfully. He had forgotten to lock up his racing bike just <i>once</i>, just <i>one</i> time, and it got stolen!
One fucking time! It was his own fault, Bellamy knew that. He should have locked it up after coming home late last night after spending the evening with his friends (and drinking more than <i>one</i> well-earned and cold beer). But he had been too lazy and tired, so he just had gotten inside, telling himself that there were so many bikes in this city that the possibility of his bike getting stolen was nil.
Nil his fucking ass! He got a heart attack when he couldn’t find his bike this morning and cursed and mentally slapped himself for being so stupid and naïve, not locking it up. Of course they would steal his bike – it was a fucking Cipollini NK1K! He paid almost five grand’s on this beautiful cycle. He was more than stupid and naïve for leaving it unlocked on the street overnight! It was reckless! So, Bellamy deserved sitting in the overcrowded streetcar, sweating the hell out of his thick pants he had to wear as a construction worker and almost choking on the horrible air quality. God, he normally should be walking the ten miles on foot for his stupidity. And considering the circumstances Bellamy asked himself why he wasn’t.
He tried not to think about the high possibility that this ride wouldn’t be his last one. He probably had to take this stupid streetcar for a very long time now because it wasn’t like he just had five grand’s left under his pillow so he could get himself a new cycle. Maybe he should take Miller upon his offer to take his instead. It wasn’t as half as good as Bellamy’s but it was – in contrast to his – still there. And he wouldn’t have to sit in this sardine of transport for the next weeks. Yeah, yeah he should write Miller and take his offer. He wouldn’t stand another drive in here.
Bellamy loved being outside. He loved the fresh air, the rays of sunshine and the smell of the nature. God, he preferred bicycling to work even when it was raining as hell. The ten miles were his workout, his way to relieve stress and letting his mind wander off. It was his routine, a part of who he was. And taking the bike to work every day wasn’t just healthier and helped him staying in shape but it was also much faster. It depended on his condition of the day but if he was good, Bellamy could make it to work within thirty minutes. Mostly he needed forty, fourty-five. With this stupid streetcar he would need over an hour at least because he had to change into another line and had a seven minutes foot walk ahead.
Bellamy opened his eyes and took a look around the streetcar. There were so many different people with him. Young kids, pupils and students. Families and older citizen. Male and female. Some of them were reading the newspaper, others were chatting but most of them were staring at their phones. Listening to music, which reminded Bellamy of his own earphones. He still had a thirty minutes’ drive ahead, according to the stop overview. So he plugged the headphones into his phone, opening his Spotify and started a mixed playlist after putting them into his ears.
Then he opened his messenger and the conversation with Miller, asking if his offer was still standing. After that Bellamy shoved his phone back into his pocket and let his mind wander off again. People entered and left the streetcar. All of them happy to be able to escape this sardine. Or regretful and disgusted when they entered. Bellamy smiled in amusement, even though he took a deep breath every time the door opened, just like the others, thankful for even the smallest amount of fresh air.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. Once, twice – five times in a row. By the time he held it in his hands, Bellamy had gotten a bunch of messages. His friends, discussing what to do today’s evening. At this time of the year it became some kind of routine for the squad to meet almost every evening to spend some time together, talking, drinking and mostly having a BBQ, even after sunset. They had been at Murphy’s yesterday and invited themselves at Lincoln and Octavia’s the day before that. Now they were asking Bellamy if he wanted to host them today and well, actually they weren’t even asking. They just decided to come over, like always.
Jasper: What’s our destination today? :-P
Octavia: Not Heavensberg Street!
Jasper: Why not? :-( I love your place.
Lincoln: So do we, but you have been here two days ago and I’m still cleaning up.
Jasper: . . . well, it just got a little out of control. But it was Saturday night! We all have to work tomorrow, so best behavior today :-D
Murphy: *snorts* As if.
Octavia: Still not Heavensberg Street, Jasper!
Jasper: Okay :-/ What about the other Blake? I’m not sure if I can remember where Bellamy lives because it’s been a while since he hosted.
Monty: We’re living two blocks away Jasper! But yeah, what about Bellamy’s?
Murphy: I’m in.
Harper: Perfect.
Octavia: I have to stop by anyway, so why not?
Jasper: Sweet! When? Six as usual?
Bellamy sighed, answering,
Bellamy: My place it is but not before seven. I am still on my way home >.<
Murphy: streetcar sucks, huh?
Bellamy: You have no idea.
Octavia: Your own fault big brother, you should have locked the cycle.
Bellamy: . . .
Harper: Well, it could be a lot worse. Make the best out of it <3
Jasper: Yeah, who knows what’s waiting around the corner for you ;-)
Bellamy snorted in amusement and shook his head. There was nothing waiting around the corner for him. It just sucked sitting in here with his thick clothes and the hot sun in his back. And right now, Bellamy couldn’t think of anything worse than this place. Seriously, no good could come out of this ‘darkness’.
He shoved the phone back into his pants and let his eyes wander through the streetcar, which had just started moving again after stopping at a station and then his heart skipped a beat. Actually, it skipped a couple of beats because – hot damn! He was just looking at the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was standing a few steps away from him, holding onto the holding rod, while her gaze was focused on her smartphone in her left hand.
She was wearing a knee-length, high-necked business dress. It was pretty simple, nothing special. And it hid most of her figure but the swell of her breasts and the curves of her hips that stuck out, gave him a pretty good hint of what her body looked like underneath this gray dress. God, this dress was gray, the most boring color ever but her wearing it, Bellamy decided that it became his new favorite. He never thought that gray could be so beautiful and breathtaking. His eyes raked her up and down. He took her in, fully and slowly (and in a very creepy way, probably) but Bellamy couldn’t help it. She was just so beautiful.
Her blonde hair was bounded up into a crowns braid - he had done it hundred of times when Octavia was kid -, plenty hair strands were already torn out, hanging all over the place. She was standing sideways to Bellamy so he couldn’t really see her face but he noticed a little mull over her lip and long eyelashes. Her skin looked soft, warm and elegant. Almost fragile. It has a creamy color, unlike his. Bellamy’s father had been Filipino, while his mother had been American. And even though Bellamy never had met his father, because he died before Bellamy was born, he just looked like his dad. Bellamy had his deep brown eyes and the messy, curly hair. The tanned olive shaped skin and a constellation of stars on his face. At least Octavia used to call his freckles like that when she was little.
So the woman looked like anything but him. Her hair was shining, almost glowing in the sunlight. She was short, maybe 5’5”. Probably 5’7” with the shoes she was wearing. Bellamy swallowed, feeling a different kind of warm heating up his body now. His heart pounded against his ribcage. Fast, heavy and fascinated by the sight his eyes captured in. He knew that he had to stop looking - or staring would be more accurate - at her like this. Otherwise someone would call him out on it or worse - she would notice it herself!
Which would be the worst, right? He didn’t want her to think he was a creepo. On the other hand - he did want her to notice him. He wanted to talk to her. He should talk to her. She was the most beautiful human being he had ever seen. Bellamy internally groaned when he saw her teeth burying themselves into her bottom lip, eyes focused on the small screen in her hand. A small crease appeared on her forehead and then she started to smile. Her lips curled up, forming itself into a bright, absolutely adorable smile. There were small wrinkles around her eyes, dimples in her cheeks and then she looked up from her phone, turning her head away from Bellamy, shaking it in amusement.
Bellamy’s heart beat faster. He’d never seen something this beautiful. Her smile literally took his breath away. Which was kind of embarrassing but at the same time, Bellamy didn’t care. He was way too awestruck by this woman. He swallowed, trying to banish the knot out of his throat. He wanted to shout at the blonde, telling her not to look away but to look at him. He wanted to see her face again. He needed to see the sweet smile, her full bright lips. And Bellamy died the second her head turned around, face right towards his direction. She wasn’t looking at him, but he could see her face, her eyes for the very first time and Bellamy swore he went to heaven. The woman’s eyes were out of the clearest blue. Clearer and bluer than the sky, the ocean - they were unlike anything he had seen before. Her eyes shined like the reflection of the sun on the ocean’s surface. She looked like a princess. Like the ones out of the fairytales his mom used to read out to him and his sister.
She looked - right at him. Bellamy had been so awestruck that he didn’t notice first but then it hit him. Everything stopped at once. His heart, his mind, his lungs. While sis smile fainted when she directly looked into his eyes (more out of panic of being caught), her smile on her lips didn’t disappear. The woman didn’t look away like Bellamy would have if he had been her and noticed someone was watching him like he watched her. Bellamy had a lump in his throat, he swallowed thickly and never broke the eye contact. He didn’t dare to move, not wanting to ruin the moment because there definitely was a moment. But then her lips curled up a little bit further and Bellamy let his gaze rake over her face, noticing the slightly reddened cheeks. He blinked a few times, not believing what he was seeing and before he could help himself he returned her smile.
He mirrored it, feeling everything inside him going upside down. His heart was jumping and the heat inside him made him a little dizzy. Bellamy noticed how her blue eyes left his own and raked over him, giving him an electrical feeling, before locking her gaze with his again. Bellamy licked his lips, mostly unconscious but watching her eyes dropping down to his movements and then - then the woman got jostled by another passenger and the moment was gone. She turned around to look at the person who stumbled into her and Bellamy felt his heart dropping to his guts. He let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding and leaned back against the window, trying to process what just had happened. Trying to get his flattering heart under control again. God, she was so attractive and she had been cleary checking him out as well. There was no doubt when her eyes flickered over him and then dropping to his lips. Bellamy swallowed once again before looking across the wagon towards the blonde woman, who was still gazing at him. She smiled shyly before turning her attention back to the smartphone she was still holding.
Bellamy couldn’t help himself but to keep watching the woman almost non-stop.Despite his unsuccessful and honestly really embarrassing attempt to focus on the group chat, where they were discussing who should bring what to Bellamy’s place. But the blonde was like a magnet and so his eyes flickered over to her every few seconds. He couldn’t let go. And he didn’t want to, especially when he noticed that she kept gazing at him as well. Maybe she had the same thoughts about him as he about her? Maybe he should just get up and talk to her? What was the worst that could happen? That she rejected him and told him that she was in a relationship and didn’t want anything but being nice with the smile she had sent him? Yeah, that could definitely be the worst to happen. On the other side, maybe she was single and flirting with him? This was the possibility Bellamy definitely prefered.
If he wanted to talk to her he had to grow some balls and do it fast. He had only a few stops before he exit and he didn’t know where she was about to leave. Bellamy licked his lips and had gathered enough courage to stand up, when the woman sitting next to him got out of her seat - leaving the spot next to him empty. Bellamy’s heart stopped beating, his eyes flickered towards the blonde but she wasn’t there anymore. He started to panic and was halfway standing when he caught her, standing right next to him. She licked her lips and with the sweetest smile in the world she pointed at the seat next to him and probably asked, if it was free. He didn’t know for sure because he still had his earphones plugged it. Hesitantly he nodded, feeling too overwhelmed to get out whole words. He tried to, but he just felt a crack in the back of his throat and pressed his lips into a thin smile instead.
The blonde took the seat and the first thing Bellamy recognized washer perfume, when it covered him up in a sweet cloud of vanilla and something else. Something he couldn’t describe but loved immediately. It made his heart race. It was flattering in his chest, jumping hard against his bones, trying to break free. His stomach turned upside down, the heat flushed through his body, making his palms sweaty. He shortly smiled at the blonde before turning his gaze away. He definitely needed some time to process this. A beautiful good looking woman sat right next to him in the streetcar. And judging by her smiles she had give him earlier, she wasn’t averse of him. She definitely was interested!
Okay, don’t panic Bellamy. Don’t. panic. Bellamy felt his fingers started to shake, so he grabbed harder on his phone. While his eyes were reading his friends’ messages, he didn't really read them. His mind was too fuzzy, too consumed by the woman’s presence. Bellamy tried not to breathe in her perfume too deeply because it would only make it harder to form a clear thought. Okay. Alright, he got this, right? He just needed to say something to her. Anything.!
Bellamy licked his lips and risked a gaze out of the corner of his eyes towards the blonde. Hesitatingly he let his eyes slip away to her hands. His heart pounded louder while searching for a sign of a boyfriend or husband feverishly. He tried to lean a little forward, as discreet as possible, which was almost impossible and felt his heart jumping up high when he realized she wasn’t wearing any wedding band.
No ring. That’s good. Okay, now get yourself to say something! He yelled at himself and breathed out as quietly as possible. He rubbed his hands against the pants. God damn, did someone turned up the heating or was it just him who felt this hot? What should he say? A ‘hello’ or ‘hi’ didn’t feel good enough, but he wasn’t the type of guy who greeted women with stupid pick-up lines. So his only choice was to say ‘hello’, right?
No, ‘hello’ was - it was too weak. Way too weak.
His hand wandered through his mob of hair, almost desperate because somehow he knew what to say but nothing came out. He could see her glancing at him and he even caught her peeking at his phone, like she wanted to see who he was writing with. A girlfriend maybe? He licked his lips, while his eyes wandered off a little too far and they both looked at each other. She was so close right now. If he would been an ass he could kiss her so easily. Way too easily. So easily that he was tempted to do so, especially since his eyes betrayed him and fell onto her lips for a split second. He swallowed and felt his mouth curling into a smile, looking back into her blue eyes and helplessly drowning into them. He almost let out a small groan but could hold it back last minute She kept smiling back at him. Shyly and flirtatious at the same time.
But just as him, she didn’t say anything.
#bellarke#the 100#clarke griffin#bellamy blake#bellarke fanfiction#the 100 fanfiction#oneshot#modern au#Bellamy POV#enjoy
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Can’t Go Back Part 18
A/N: This chapter got away from me a bit. It’s over 6 thousand words so tuck in guys. I hope you like it. And as I’ve said before, any time a character gets sick in this, it’s nothing more than a flu or common bug. Given this is a Before chapter, COVID didn't exist, but just given the situation currently. I feel like it is important to say that. Just a note on temperature. According to Google 52 degrees F is roughly 11 degrees C. 45 degrees F is roughly 6 degrees C. For my fellow non-USians. Feedback is appreciated as always and much love. -Em
Winter formal was upon us. It was only one day out now. Jeff was still on me about going, like he had been for weeks. I still had no intention of going. And as luck would have it, I had just run into the perfect excuse not to go. I woke up Friday morning to my stomach cramping and churning. Oh god this is awful. I feel like I got hit by a truck. Before I even had time to wake up wake up, I rolled over and grabbed my trashcan. My body shook as I coughed. Sitting up, I flung my legs over the side of my bed. My mom knocked on the door. “Addison? Are you alright honey?”
“Yeah Mom. I’m okay. Just not feeling very well.” She opened the door and peeked inside.
“Let me check your temperature.”
“Can I brush my teeth first?” Mum looked around the room cautiously.
“Of course. I’ll be downstairs. Come down whenever you’re ready.” I nodded and held my stomach.
I went downstairs once my teeth were cleaned and I had rinsed my mouth several times. Mum and dad were in the kitchen. I groaned. The smell of coffee brewing was making me queasy. “I already called the school. You’re staying home today.” Mum said, coming to fawn over me. I waved her off.
“Okay. I’ll call Justin and tell him he needs to get himself to school.” I grabbed a pack of saltines and a Gatorade to take upstairs.
“Feel better.” Dad called after me. I heard him say to mum that it probably wasn’t really that bad. “She should still go to school.” Mum didn’t answer. I changed into a different pair of pyjamas and crawled into bed. My crackers and juice were set neatly on the nightstand by my bed. I grabbed the book I was reading last night. As a last-minute decision, I grabbed my trash can and pulled it closer to the bed.
I called Justin after I got comfortable. “Hello?”
“Morning Justy.”
“Morning Addy.”
“I’m sick.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. You’ll need to find your own way to school today.”
“I can do that. Are you sure you’re sick? Or are you just trying to get out of going to Formal?”
“I have crackers and Gatorade. I wasn’t even out of bed yet.”
“Oh.” He exclaimed. “Um. Yeah. You stay in bed. And remember to drink water. And dry toast.”
“I will. Can you grab my homework? And tell Jeff Atkins that I’m sorry I won’t get to enjoy the magic of Winter Formal tomorrow.”
“Sure thing. Feel better.”
“Mhmm. Love you.”
“Love you too.” I rolled over in bed and tried to get a little more sleep. It was a useless venture. I spent half an hour tossing and turning. I couldn’t get comfortable. It was too hot with the blankets on. It was too cold with them off. One leg out didn’t feel much better. My head was starting to hurt. My stomach was doing flips and cramping. Frustrated, I threw the covers off and went to the bathroom. The bottle of Tylenol was shoved in the back of the medicine cabinet. I took two of the foil packets and went back to bed.
Briefly, my mind went there. I had a flash of another kind of foil packet. And a flash of a calendar. My eyes widened slightly before I counted. Then I remembered that we hadn’t not used a condom, ever. I had an IUD. We were protected either way for…. I couldn’t think the word. We also hadn’t had sex in a month. And I had gotten my period between then and now. I sighed in relief. That thought did make me realize I hadn’t texted Monty yet. I took my phone again and saw that he had texted me about fifteen minutes ago.
Morning Addison. I swiped left and his message opened.
Morning Montgomery.
You’re up late this morning.
I’ve actually been up.
Oh? Everything okay?
Yes and no.
??
I’m kind of sick. But it’s nothing to worry about.
You sure?
Yeah. I’m alright. Just need to eat my crackers, drink my juice, and sleep. On the plus side, I can get out of going to the dance without lying to Jeff Atkins.
I can come by tonight if you want.
I’ll think about it.
Okay. A few minutes later he sent me another text. Why do you call him Jeff Atkins and not just Jeff?
I dunno. He calls me Addison Hawthorne. No one else does it. It’s kind of just a thing we do.
Can I call you by your full name?
No.
Not even occasionally?
No.
Why?
Is your name Jeff Atkins?
No?
Then there is your answer.
Fine, fine. Feel better, okay?
I’ll try.
I’ll text you later baby.
Mmkay. The Tylenol I took was starting to kick in and my eyelids were getting heavy. Before I could drop it, I put my phone on the nightstand. I woke up again around noon. My stomach was feeling a little better, so I sat up and ate a few crackers slowly. The medicine had worn off by now. I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my missed notifications for a bit. Nothing too interesting had happened. I sighed heavily and tossed my phone to the side of my bed.
My book was more interesting than I expected it to be, and soon enough I was almost done. The tri-tone buzz of my phone distracted me. I rested the book in my lap and grumbled to myself. “Who’s texting me now?” It was Jeff Atkins.
Hey Addison Hawthore. Justin tells me you’re sick. I hope you aren’t trying to just avoid the dance.
Jeff Atkins. I would NEVER. I am definitely sick. Doesn’t seem like anything major though. Probably be at school Monday. I trust you will give me a very thorough report on all things Clay Jensen and Hannah Baker?
Glad to hear. Leah says feel better by the way. I’ll find you.
Tell her thank you. Now. I don’t want to be rude, but I’m almost done my book.
See you Monday Addison. I didn’t answer him. I texted Monty instead.
Don’t worry about coming over tonight. I should be fine by Sunday. I’ll see you Monday.
Sounds good.
The rest of the day I lounged in bed. My mum came in to check on me when she got home. Saturday was much of the same as Friday. I stayed in bed. I read another book. I slept. My illness was doing better. Not well enough to go to the dance, but I could handle toast which was a good sign. Justin called me while he was getting ready at Bryce’s.
“Hey Justin, what’s up?”
“Getting ready with Bryce and the guys.” I could hear the boys roughhousing in the background and Justin’s voice seemed far away. He must have had me on speaker.
“Hi boys.”
“Hey.” They called back.
“You stuck me with him tonight.”
“I’m sick Bryce. I would not be very much fun or help at the dance tonight.”
“You say you’re sick.” Bryce kidded back. He must be in a good mood.
“Would you like me to describe to you in detail what I spent my day doing yesterday?”
“Not really.”
“Didn’t think so. Now boys.”
“Yeah Addy?” Justin asked.
“I need all of your attention.”
“We’re listening.” Zach laughed.
“Oh no. Is she going to give us the lecture?”
“What lecture?” Anders asked.
“Yes. She is.” I said. “Please try to keep the shenanigans to a minimum.”
“But they’re fun.” Justin complained.
“So is not getting arrested. Do not add to the population. Remember that is often a permanent commitment. However, I do support the right to choose. Do not fight anyone tonight. And please, for the love of God, if you are going to drink, do not spike the punch bowl. Do not be that guy. And don’t be messy drunk. I want to hear no stories about messy drunk athletes come Monday. And another thing, do not drink and drive. If you need a ride, my mum is perfectly happy to go get you and take you home.”
“She took the fun out of a dance in two minutes.” Someone grumbled.
“That was not me taking the fun out. I’m more than okay with some shenanigans. I encourage some. Please have fun for me. I just don’t want you getting anyone pregnant. You’re all old enough to go to the drugstore or the corner store and buy yourselves some damn condoms. If I can go do it, so can you. As for the drinking and driving thing, a DUI is bad. Especially when you’re underage. My mum likes Justin. So she will gladly give someone a ride if they need.”
“Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Back up. You have condoms?” Bryce asked.
“I’m not the Virgin Mary.”
“Who could you possibly be having sex with?”
“None of your business. And I swear Bryce if you say Justin.” I laughed. I may have said too much.
“You’ll what?”
“She won’t anything. I will.” Justin laughed.
“Oh! One more thing. Don’t screw up Clay’s night.”
“Fine. We won’t. Gotta go, bye.” Bryce said. I could hear him grumbling before Justin hung up. “Wonder how far she’ll go with Jensen, hey Justy?” I rolled my eyes. How can he go from fun and not horrible to a disgusting pig in thirty seconds flat?
By Monday, I was back to feeling like myself. I grabbed a soft cream sweater from my closet and paired it with a floral skirt. A worn in pair of black combat boots and silver studs rounded out the look. I left my hair down to let it air dry without a weird kink in it. Bounding down the stairs, I smiled brightly at my parents. “Morning mum. Morning dad.”
“Morning sweetie.” My mum laughed brightly. My dad looked at me strangely.
“You’re awfully happy this morning.” My smile faltered slightly.
“Well, I’m not physically sick today. I think that warrants being happy. And it’s the last few days before winter break.” There was a voice in the back of my head I tried to ignore. I was happy. I plastered on a smile and grabbed a packet of oatmeal. Silently, I warmed my milk and stirred my breakfast. My parents were going over their schedules for the day. It was just about grade deadline for mum, so she had a stack of tests and papers in her office. Dad was already prepping for tax season in a couple of months. The office at work was stacked too, I’m sure.
“I’m going to take this to school.” I mumbled.
At school, I grabbed my cup of oatmeal to eat before class. “Peaches and cream. Interesting.”
“Jesus.” I gasped. “Morning Monty.”
“Morning Addy.” I began walking to my locker. He fell into step beside me.
“Did you need something?” I was sure people were watching us.
“No. Just wanted to say hi.”
“Okay? You know we are at school, right?”
“Yes. We have chemistry together. Is it really so bad to walk to your locker together?”
“I don’t know Monty.”
“For all anyone knows, I’m looking for Bryce. Who will probably be with Justin. Who will be at your locker.”
“I guess.” I sighed. I handed him my cup of oatmeal. “If you’re going to follow me to my locker, hold this while I get my spoon.” Pulling my bag around me, I took the spoon from the front pocket. Monty handed back my breakfast for me to eat while we walked.
“Peaches and cream oatmeal.” He muttered.
“Huh?”
“Nothing. Just making a mental note.” He smirked. I could see the smile behind his eyes though.
“It was on sale. It was this or plain and plain oatmeal is….”
“Plain.”
“Exactly.”
We made it to my locker, where it just so happened that Justin was waiting for me. With my least favorite white boy in tow. “Hey Justin. Walker.”
“Addy.” Bryce nodded.
“Feeling better?”
“Much. What did I miss Friday?”
“Not a whole lot.” Justin shrugged.
“A better question would be what did we miss?” Bryce asked, looking between Monty and I.
“I was on my way in when I saw her pull in. Figured I’d stop and tell her about what she missed in chem.”
“Which apparently wasn’t much.” I shrugged, scraping the last of my breakfast up. “I need to go to class. I expect a full report on what I missed at the dance at lunch.”
“Jeff will give you one. Don’t worry.” Justin laughed. “You’re awfully invested in Clay and Hannah.”
“I could have been invested in you and Hannah. But….” I looked at Bryce briefly. “Here we are.”
“I don’t think she put out for him, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Monty added.
“Gross.”
“Don’t think he would even know how.” Bryce laughed.
“And I’m leaving. Be nice boys.”
My classes were abuzz with talk of the Winter Formal. Mostly talking about what so and so wore, or who such and such was dancing with, or that one song Tony played that went like this or that. Clearly, I hadn’t missed much. Apparently, Jessica had had one or four too many nips off Bryce’s flask. I rolled my eyes internally. I mean, at least the boys weren’t messy. By the time lunch came, I was excited to hear about anything that wasn’t the dance. I knew, of course, that wouldn’t be the case. But still.
Sliding into my usual seat next to Justin, I placed my head on the table. “What’s eating you?” Scott asked.
“Nothing. I’m just bored of hearing about the dance.”
“It wasn’t that bad. And you haven’t heard Jeff’s retelling of Clay Jensen and Hannah Baker’s dance.”
“I want to hear about that. And then nothing else.” He nodded in understanding.
“Seriously though, are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah. Just had a long weekend is all. Guess it knocked more out of me than I thought.” I heard him hum. Jeff laughed jovially as he sat down. How can one man be so damn happy all the time?
“You missed quite the dance on Saturday, Addison.”
“It seems that way. Though, anything would be better than what I spent the weekend doing.”
“Fair. You’re feeling better?”
“Yeah. Just tired now.”
“I bet. Now. About the dance. More specifically, Clay and Hannah at the dance.”
“Yes. And then no more dance talk please.”
“Okay. So, Clay was being a wallflower.”
“As usual.”
“Yes. But he was sitting on the bleachers across the gym from Hannah. And he waved and nodded at her. When I told him to go, he was all ‘I can’t dance’ and so I was like ‘no one can dance. It’s a dance.’”
“Of course. No one likes the ones who can dance.”
“That’s what I said! He was awkward as hell and then they were cute. Danced around like idiots. Had the best time. Leah thought it was fantastic. I was waiting for the slow song that was coming. Or I hoped it was. And then it did. They were awkward again.”
“Right.” I adjusted my position and leaned in to listen to him better.
“Hey gu-.” Justin said, sitting down.
“Shh.” Charlie cut him off. “Jeff is telling a story.”
“They almost kissed.”
“Almost?”
“But then Jess….”
“Ah, this part of the story I know. She was messy. And Hannah cleaned it up.”
“Yes. But that was the dance. Good time.”
“I’m sorry I missed it.” The boys around me spent the rest of lunch having their own conversations. Or giving me their own rundown of the dance. I tuned most of that out. It was hard to pretend not to notice the small glances Monty was sending my way. I sent a few his way too.
Christmas break, finals, and January flew by. Before any of us knew it, it was February. Valentine’s Day was fast approaching. Which, if you didn’t know from looking at the calendar, you certainly knew by the annual Oh My Dollar Valentines posters. There were little heart shaped boxes of chocolate at all the stores in town. The price of roses soared exponentially. I rolled my eyes as I passed one the first day of February. Justin tried to get me to buy one that day.
“No. I’m not interested in paying for cheer camp.”
“You’re always on my ass about school spirit.”
“Yeah. Because like it or not, you and your friends run this school. School spirit is not paying for the wonderful cause of sending the squad to cheer camp.”
“Fine.” He grinned mischievously at me. I watched him reach into his pocket as we passed one of the many tables lining the halls. “Two Dollar Valentines please.” My eyes widened.
“Justin. No.”
“Oh but it’ll be fun.” He laughed.
“I don’t care.” I couldn’t help but smile. He held it out to me, but I shook my head. “No way.”
“Suit yourself. I know you well enough to fill it out for you anyways.” Justin grinned and stuck his tongue out at me. You little shit. I reached out to grab the paper from him. I was going to return it. He held it above his head. I tried to grab it again and he waved his arm around.
“Give it to me.” I laughed.
“Nope. Get taller and maybe I’ll consider it.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Well then I guess you won’t be getting the survey.” I huffed at him. He lowered his arms and I tried to take it again. He pushed my hand away and took off running. “It’ll be an exciting surprise.” Justin yelled as he ran.
“Justin Foley!” I yelled back. I love that boy. But sometimes I just want to…. Oh. What am I going to tell Monty?I sighed and turned around, intending to cut Justin off at his first class and steal the stupid survey from him. When I turned however, I collided with someone.
“We should really stop running into each other like this. People might think we are together or something.” Monty said.
“Or they’ll think you have a thing for me. Since you seem to be the one who always approaches me.”
“That is definitely a possibility.” He handed me my keys. “Might need these later. Wouldn’t want someone finding them and trying to use them.” He started to walk away backwards. I followed after him.
“I highly doubt someone would try to steal an ’09 Camry.”
“Never know.”
“Besides. It’s Evergreen County. Nothing ever happens here.”
“True. I’ll see you at lunch?”
“Yeah. I need to have some words with Justin Foley.”
“Uh oh. Trouble in paradise?”
“Maybe.” I rose a brow. Monty gave me a funny look. “I’ll explain later.”
At lunch I stopped Justin in the hall on the way to the cafeteria. Pulling him into an empty classroom, I locked the door. “I need that survey back Justin.”
“Why?”
“Because I have no interest in going on a valentines date with someone. You know I hate Valentine’s Day.”
“It could be fun.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“Well, you have thirteen days to change your mind.”
“What do you mean?”
“I submitted it on the way to second period.” I blinked at him. Did he just say…?
“You what?”
“I submitted it already. You’ll be receiving a list of ‘promising matches’ on Valentine’s Day.” Oh no. Throwing my head back, I sighed very heavily.
“I hate you.” I groaned.
“I love you too Addy.” Justin brushed past me to leave. “I’ll save you a seat?”
“Nope. That’s okay. I need a break from the testosterone today.”
“Okay.” As soon as he was gone, I texted Monty.
Hey. I need to talk to you. Can you meet me in the library?
Yeah. Bring a book?
Please. My locker was on the way, so I grabbed my books for the rest of the day.
There was a table free in the back of the room. I snagged it so Montgomery and I could have some privacy. He found me a little while later. I was pretending to be taking notes. In actuality, I was doodling and trying not to think about his reaction to Justin’s little stunt. Or reactions. “What’s going on?” He asked as he sat down.
“Hi to you too.”
“Sorry. Hi. What’s going on?”
“So don’t freak out.”
“Don’t start with don’t freak out and I won’t freak out.”
“Justin uh,” I paused.
“Justin? What?”
“Justin filled out and submitted a Dollar Valentine for me.” I quickly added, “I didn’t ask him to. He just bought it and did it. I was going to get it back from him at lunch, but he submitted it on his way to second.” I looked up. Monty was staring at me. And he was… what is he doing? And then his lip twitched. He was trying not to laugh. “What?”
“That’s what this is about? That is what was so urgent?”
“Yes?”
“The fact that Justin Foley filled out a Dollar Valentine for you?”
“Yes?” I was extremely confused.
“Addison. I really don’t care if he filled out a stupid survey for you. Are you going to go on the date?”
“Of course not!”
“Then I don’t give a shit.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s good.” I was still a little hesitant to say anything. “Oh. I should probably mention. I hate Valentine’s Day.”
“Really?” He frowned in confusion.
“Yes. Is that really so hard to believe?”
“Honestly? Yes.”
“Why?”
“You’re a romantic.”
“I know. Which is why I hate Valentine’s Day. It’s the least romantic holiday. If you want to do something nice for me, or get me flowers, show me that you like me, do it on a random day. Not when you have to because it’s a Hallmark holiday.” I was careful not to say the word love. It may have been five months, which is a long time in high school, but we weren’t there yet.
“So, you’re a romantic who hates Valentine’s Day. Okay. Coffee date though?”
“Sure. But not because of what day it is.”
“No. Of course not.” Monty winked at me and then got up to leave. “Come find me after school.” I nodded.
“I’m going to stay here and make Justin sweat a little.”
The next couple of weeks passed slowly. I had forgiven Justin for filling out a Valentine for me a couple of days after he submitted it. After school on the thirteenth, I ran to Walplex to get ingredients for macarons. I browsed the aisles in search of almond flour and raspberry flavouring. Before I left the lot, I texted Monty. Turns out you’re worth it after all. He was busy with practice. I didn’t expect an answer any time soon.
At home, I unloaded my ingredients and put the carton of egg whites in a bowl of lukewarm water to come to room temperature without overheating them. “Hey Siri. Play State Champs on Spotify.”
“Playing State Champs.” I sang along quietly while I went about making my macarons. I said very kind and loving things to the batter aloud. In my head, I was swearing at them with words that would make a sailor blush. He really is worth it.
Dad came home while I was piping the batter onto the Silpat.
“Hi.”
“Hi. What are you doing?”
“Making macarons for my friends.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow.” I shrugged. Dad scoffed and shook his head. “What?”
“Nothing.” He snapped. My face didn’t react. Inside, I felt the familiar sensation of becoming smaller and my insides closing in on themselves. Just ignore him. It’s okay. You’re okay.
“Okay.” I replied meekly. Instead of responding, he went and shut himself in the office. I sighed softly to myself and started on my macaron filling while the cookie batter sat on the tray.
Once my cookies were baked and cooled after dinner, I began to fill them. I picked a Wilton number 18 tip, a small star, and piped chocolate ganache around a raspberry on half of the cookies. When they were all filled, I topped each one. Then I carefully placed them in a container and grabbed several napkins. I also put five each in two disposable aluminum containers. One for Justin. And one for Montgomery. “They won’t notice if one is missing.” I muttered to myself. I took a bite, and it was perfect. Not hollow. Still had a chew to it. The outside was crisp. The slightly bittersweet filling complemented the sweetness of the cookie Perfect. I moaned softly. Setting the containers in the fridge so they didn’t melt overnight, I went upstairs to take a shower and get ready for bed.
The next morning it was Valentine’s Day. As much as I hated the holiday, I wasn’t opposed to dressing up. I dug around my closet for something to wear. I had a red circle skirt in mind. I just needed to find something to wear with it. “Hey Siri, what’s the weather today?”
“It’s currently cloudy and forty-five degrees. The high is expected to be fifty-two degrees and the low will be forty-five degrees.”
“Thank you.” Only fifty-two. I can wear a sweater. I pulled out a couple. The red cable knit was too match-y. The plain black was too plain. My last option was a black sweater with white hearts. This is nice. Shrugging it on, I pulled on a pair of black tights to cover my legs. Topping off the look with my favourite diamond studs and a simple charm bracelet, I checked the clock. I had time to paint my nails.
Soon, I was ready for school. I redid my nails in a nice nude shade. Knowing I was going on a date today, I went quite neutral on the makeup. I wanted my skirt and top to be the focus of my look. My parents were putting their breakfast away when I went downstairs. “Morning guys.”
“Morning sweetie.” We exchanged pleasantries with each other. “You look lovely Addison.”
“Thanks Mum. May not like today, but it’s an excuse to wear this sweater.”
“Very true.” She kissed my cheek gently, so her lipstick didn’t transfer.
“Why are there three containers in the fridge Addison?” Oh crap. Uh….
“Because one is for Justin, one is for my friends to share, and the other one is for me when my friends inevitably leave me with none.”
“I see.” He didn’t sound convinced. Or interested for that matter. When does he ever sound interested? He called after me as I was leaving. “Remember your mother and I are going out tonight for dinner and date night.”
“I know.” I smiled at him. “You kids have fun. I’ll see you in the morning.” I smiled brighter when he dipped my mom and kissed her. Gross but so cute.
“I love you, Margot.”
“I love you too, Brooks.” My mom replied.
My friends were waiting at my locker when I got there. “Hey guys. What’s going on?”
“Justin said you were bringing macarons to school.” Charlie grinned.
“Ah yes. You’re here for snacks. Of course. Hey Clay.”
“Hey Addy.” I shooed the boys away from my locker so I could put my bag in and take out the large container.
“These are for sharing.”
“We know. We can share.” Bryce nodded. Sure, you can. I rolled my eyes playfully. Then I set about passing each of the plethora of boys gathered around my locker a napkin. And then I gave them one macaron each. Jeff got two so he had one to give to Leah.
“Why does he get two?” Luke complained.
“Because he has a girlfriend. And I like her. Do any of you have girlfriends I like?” My eyes shifted to Monty minutely. He smirked softly and quirked a brow quickly. No one seemed to notice. “No? Then you get one for now. You can have more at lunch.” The bell rang. The boys began to disperse to their respective classes. I grabbed Justin and gave him his container.
“You’re the best.” He grinned and kissed my temple when he pulled me in for a hug.
“So are you. Now go get educated.” I texted Monty as I walked to class. I’ll give you yours after school.
I think I like being worth it. This is delicious. Why don’t you make these all the time?
Make them with me sometime. You’ll see.
On my way to lunch, I stopped to pick up my Dollar Valentine. “Hey Sheri.”
“Addison! Oh my gosh. When I heard you filled out a survey, I almost didn’t believe it.”
“Justin did it.”
“Oh. At least he knows you. I hope you get better matches than I did.”
“We’ll see.” I waited while she printed out my list. I glanced at it when she handed it to me.
Andrew B.
Cody K.
Daniel R.
Justin F.
Bryce W.
“Oh. My. God.” I laughed.
“What?”
“I matched with Justin. And Bryce Walker. How the hell?”
“Well, Justin knows you best. And he did the survey for you.” Sheri shrugged.
“Okay fair. But Bryce?”
“I don’t have an answer there.” We both laughed and I left to go to the cafeteria to join my friends. While I walked, I called Justin.
“Hey Addy, what’s up?”
“Hey Valentine. Have you picked up your matches yet?”
“I’m just looking at them now. I was just about to call you to see who you matched with.”
“Well, I think you’re my best match.”
“No one else up to your standards?” I was behind him now.
“Nope.” He turned and hung up. “But I have very important plans tonight, so I’ll need a rain check.”
“No problem. Your annual Bones marathon?” Sure.
“You know it. Next season is the last one.”
“Since I can’t take you out tonight, at least let me escort you to lunch.” He held his arm out to me. I grasped it dramatically.
“Such a gentleman.” We laughed hysterically.
Montgomery loved the macarons. We met at Monet’s after school to get coffee to go because it was crowded. Thankfully no one questioned us if they saw us. They were too wrapped up in their own dates to be concerned about us. Our date was wonderful. There was no chocolate in heart shaped boxes. There weren’t any overpriced roses. Just the two of us spending time together privately. Since my parents were out for the foreseeable future, he came back to my place. We hung out for a bit until he had to leave to avoid my parents. All in all, it was a pretty good Valentine’s Day. He found it hysterical that Justin and I were matched for Dollar Valentines.
Spring had sprung in Evergreen in mid-March. By the time April rolled around, flowers were in full bloom again and it was getting warmer and warmer. On a particularly nice Saturday, I woke up in an unusually good mood. I looked out the window and it was sunny, not a cloud in the sky. As I was sitting in bed, I looked around my room. My camera caught my eye on my bookshelf. Maybe today is the day I introduce Monty to my camera. I got ready but didn’t get dressed. It was still early for a Saturday. And I knew Monty was a big fan of sleep.
After an hour or so of putzing around in my room, I decided to call him. “Morning Addy.” He answered. His voice was still thick with sleep. I smiled.
“Good morning sunshine.” I heard him shifting in bed.
“You’re chipper this morning.”
“It’s nice out. It’s finally spring.”
“It is.” He smiled.
“I was wondering if you had plans today?” I eyed my camera.
“No, I don’t think so. What did you have in mind Bookworm?”
“I thought I could introduce you to my other hobby Casanova.”
He gasped dramatically. “You mean to tell me you like things other than books?”
“Yes.” I laughed. “What do you say?”
“I’m in. When and where?”
“The park by the docks? Say, one o’clock?”
“Sure thing.”
“Wear something comfortable.”
“Okay. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
“Okay. Bye.”
“Bye baby.”
My parents were in the office working. It was ten am on a Saturday. But it was getting close to exam time for my mom, so she was busy. Tax season was ending, so dad was busy. I opened my bedroom door and called into the house. “I’m going out later. I don’t know how long I’ll be out.”
“Okay honey. Have fun.”
“That’s nice.” I sighed and closed my door. After a quick shower I got dressed. I knew I would probably be moving around a lot today, so I picked a pair of leggings and a loose black t-shirt from American Eagle. I really should go get one of these in every colour. They’re the best shirts. I threw a random cardigan on my bed. It was later joined by my wallet and camera.
Sitting down to do my hair and makeup, I decided to just do a quick French braid. It kept the hair out of my face. I contemplated my makeup for a while. I still had plenty of time to spare. Pressing play on my Spotify and it picked up on a random Beartooth song. Artist Radios are always interesting. I hummed and tapped along with the music while I dug through my vanity. I didn’t have an excessive amount of makeup. Maybe I had a little too much lipstick, but it’s my favourite type of makeup. I kept everything but my lipstick fairly light and neutral. My skin was actually nice today so I could just use concealer and set it. With the rest of my makeup done, I dug through my slightly embarrassing amount of lipstick. “I’m feeling bold today. Red?” I asked myself in the mirror. “Red.” I nodded. I was ready to go now. I chucked the tube of lipstick in my wallet.
It was close to lunch so I texted Monty. Did you want me to make a couple of sandwiches or something?
Sure. I went downstairs and dug through the cheese drawer.
I have turkey, ham, and some other white meat. Possibly chicken?
Ham is okay.
Cheddar okay?
Yup. I made our sandwiches. I knew how he liked his sandwiches now. Placing them in the fridge, I ran upstairs for my camera, camera bag, and now my purse. Our lunch was set on top of my wallet. I threw an ice pack in to keep everything cold and food safe. A couple of snacks joined in before I grabbed my keys.
“I’m leaving now. I’ll see you later.” I called.
“Okay.” My parents called together.
At the park, I met Monty over by a tree. He was wearing jeans and a plain white t-shirt. No flannel. That took me by surprise. He looked damn good though. I stopped on the way over for a couple of coffees from Starbucks. “Hey Casanova.”
“Hey Bookworm.”
“Lunch now or later?”
“Now is good. I could eat.” I rolled my eyes. “What?”
“You’re always hungry.”
“I’m a growing boy.” He defended.
“If you grow anymore, you’ll give Dempsey a run for his money.”
“Never know. They say boys grow again around nineteen.”
“Oh god. I don’t know if I could handle you getting taller.” He laughed.
“Might have to. Never know.” I looked down to hide my blush. I didn’t read into what he said. He was right. You never knew where you could end up. We talked quietly while we ate. Monty regaled me with stories of the baseball game I “missed” yesterday.
“Sounds like a nail biter.” I smiled.
“You don’t like baseball, do you?”
“No.” I replied quickly.
“That mean you’ll never come to a game?”
“Quite possibly. I will go to as many football games as I can though.”
“Deal. Now. What did you want to show me?”
“This.” I said as a pulled my camera out of the bag.
“Oh?”
“Yes. I told you I like photography.”
“I remember. I’m just surprised it took you this long to show it to me.”
“Good things come to those who wait.”
“Okay. I won’t question you.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not Tyler. I keep my photography to when people know about it and can see it.”
“I kind of figured.” I spent some time showing him my camera. It was the first thing I had spent any big amount of money on. I got it a few years ago. I saved up birthday and Christmas money. I never really got an allowance so that’s what I had to work with. I looked out at the water and stood up. Holding my hand out to my boyfriend, I nodded in the direction of the dock.
“Come on.” Montgomery took my hand and we walked to the railing. I examined the water for a few moments quietly. Then I lifted my camera and started shooting. It was beautiful. “It’s nicer at sunset. But daytime shoots are so fun.” I could feel him watching me. A bird was flying close by, so I snapped a picture. “It’s beautiful.” I said softly.
“Very beautiful.”
We wandered around the park together for a few hours. Occasionally we would stop to sit and just people watch. During one of these stops I noticed Monty had turned to look out over the water. The way the light was hitting his face was perfect. I quickly snapped a photo. I wanted to preserve the peaceful look on his face forever. Lord knows the boy could use some peace. He turned to me when he heard the click of the camera. Luckily it didn’t ruin the shot. He was smiling. I couldn’t help myself. I took a quick scan of the area and kissed him. When we pulled away, he quickly wiped the lipstick off. I laughed and dug around in my purse for a makeup wipe. “Here. Use this.”
“Thanks.” I touched up my lipstick. While I was doing that, he took my camera from my lap and snapped a photo of his own. “I’m not very good at this, so don’t be shocked if it comes out crappy.”
“I’m sure it’s great. Here, let me see.” He handed it back. I scrolled to the photo. It was really nice. “This is great Monty.” He nodded but didn’t say anything. Instead, he threw his arm over my shoulder and pulled me in close to him. I rested my head on his shoulder. Turning the camera around, I snapped a picture of the two of us. It wasn’t exactly a candid, but it was as close as you could get with a selfie. We called it a night around six o’clock. He had to get home for dinner. I had some homework to do. I also wanted to get our photos transferred as soon as possible.
I walked into the house smiling to myself. Today had been a really great day. I felt good. “What the hell is all over your face?” My dad asked. Not a hello. No other acknowledgement.
“What do you mean?” I reached up to touch my face. Is there something on my face?
“You really caked it on today, didn’t you?” Oh. My makeup. I’d forgotten that he didn’t see me before I left.
“I put on a little makeup. I’m trying to use up a red lipstick.” I shrugged. The small feeling had begun to grow again.
“It makes you look like a prostitute.” Wow. That escalated quickly. My good mood vanished. I set my face. I wouldn’t let him see that he had hurt me.
“Thanks Dad. That was my goal today actually.”
“Don’t take that kind of tone with me, young lady.”
“Okay, whatever. Where’s Mum?”
“At the grocery store.”
“Okay. I’ll be upstairs.”
“Take off the paint while you’re up there.” He called after me.
When I reached my room, I closed the door and slid down it. Not wanting him to know I was crying I went to the bathroom and grabbed a towel. I curled up on my bed and sobbed into the towel. I didn’t care that there would be makeup stains on it. My phone buzzed on the floor. Sitting up, I stood to grab it. It was Monty. I want to see those photos baby.
Okay. I’ll send them over when I’m done.
Looking forward to it.
Yeah.
If I forgot to say, you looked pretty today.
Thanks. I wasn’t sure I believed him after what my dad said.
Any other mystery hobbies you want to show me?
Don’t think so.
Not even the art of knitting?
Maybe.
You okay Addy?
Yeah. Just tired.
Okay. I’ll talk to you later then.
Sure. I didn’t answer his next text. It was too much effort to do it now. I just wanted to lay in bed and be sad.
#can't go back#montgomery de la cruz#monty de la cruz#monty x oc#monty imagine#monty x reader#montgomery de la cruz x oc#montgomery de la cruz imagine#montgomery de la cruz x reader#13 reasons why#13rw#13 rw#Thirteen Reasons Why#fanfiction#fan fiction#fanfic#fanfic writing#creative writing#writeblr
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Los Angeles looked out over the absolute mess in front of her. Montpelier gave a nervous laugh.
“Sorry. I know you enjoy all that ‘romantic’ junk but I guess I messed it up again, huh?” He looked down, feeling embarrassment wash over him. “If you want to leave and never talk to me again, I-” A pair of arms wrapped around his waist, cutting him off mid sentence.
“I love it. I love you. Thank you so much, Monty.” His face went bright red. She...loved him?
I thought of this excerpt last night at around 3am, which lead to me sort’ve redoing the old ‘lospelier’ story. I’m still not overly happy with it and honestly, I feel like it fails to show just how AWFUL with romance Monty is and just how bad the two of them are when it comes to feelings. It does, however, correctly show just how little the three capitals of Northern NE care about meetings.
If there was one thing Montpelier didn’t understand, it was romance. Sure, his brother had experience and was known to be a cliche romantic, but Monty himself? Not a chance. Which made everything much harder once he met Los Angeles. At first, he simply shrugged the girl off. Her glamorous nature and over extravagant tastes clashed with his more simple lifestyle, not to mention her ‘advice’ tended to get on his nerves. Sure, she was pretty. Hell, he was proud that when he first met her, he pulled her out of the path of a car. Just like a hero in one of those movies she produced. Maybe he wasn’t a lost cause. Until he realized she was just...staring. As ‘cool’ as saving someone is, he forgot about how terrifying an ordeal can be. She really needed time to process things. So he left her with her sister, planning on complaining to his close friends on the ride home. He was hopeless.
It wasn’t too long after that he began seeing more and more of LA. As lovely as a sight it was, with her golden curls and deep sea blue eyes, it was easy to learn what type of man she liked. And it wasn’t him. It never was. She liked her lifestyle, full of suits and parties. He didn’t. He liked mud and hunting, his wild, carefree life. Not spas and politics. However, she didn’t seem to get that.
“With that, that’s the end of the meeting. I hope everyone will be prepared for next time. We have a lot more to talk about.” With that statement from D.C., another long capital meeting was over. He groaned, shoving his ‘paperwork’ and ‘notes’ into his bag. Most of the papers were simply scribbled on, so he would appear as if he cared about whatever it was that DC went on and on about. A couple had drawings, simple pencil sketches of what had been happening, DC yelling at everyone to shut up, Concord making and throwing paper airplanes, Augusta pointedly avoiding everyone by hiding under the table, anything interesting.
“Oh, Montpelier! Just the capital I wanted to see!” Yeah, right. As much as he wanted to leave, to act like he hadn’t heard her, he didn’t. He never did. As much as he knew he wasn’t her type, she damn near drowned him in attention, taking every opportunity to jump on him, even occasionally kissing his cheeks. Try as he did to ignore the feelings bubbling up, he grew fond of it, even if it was just an extreme thank you for saving her. Or even if it was a way to butter him up to change him. The only part he could do without were her various comments on his life.
“You know, you’d look so much nicer in a suit! Or anything out of that disgusting plaid. You should let me take you shopping!” Just like that one. He couldn’t understand how she thought those kind of comments were okay. He liked his shirt, it had been a gift from his brother. Sure, it was a bit worn but it fit fine and was warm. This was just the tip of the iceberg. Her comments normally flew right past him. But he was tired. Tired of being forced to meet the other capitals, tired of hearing about her comments, just tired. “U-um, Montpeli-?”
Still, maybe storming off wasn’t his best idea. Maybe flipping L.A. the bird wasn’t either. The cursing was completely unnecessary, that much he’d admit. Especially the bits in French. Regardless, Montpelier didn’t stick around the meeting room to see the aftermath of his actions. He had soda to drink and cars to work on. He didn’t have time to deal with western drama. He had his own life to live and obviously, she wasn’t going to have much of a part in it. Sadly, it seemed he wouldn’t be getting out of things so easily.
“Okay, I get it. She pissed you off. She’s been pissing you off. But you and I both know she didn’t mean it like that, you asshole. Now I’m getting dragged into your lovers-spat by everyone else.” Concord hissed, glaring at the other capital. He stayed under the truck, rolling his eyes at his best friend’s dramatics.
“It’s not a damn lovers-spat. Just toss me my fucking wrench and shut it, dude. She’s old enough to deal with the consequences, she’ll get over it.” A dull thud hit the area to the left of Monty’s head. “Thank you.” A groan followed.
“Alright, listen. I understand she gets on your nerves. I really do. But you literally made her cry. Maybe you should explain what pissed you off so much. It might make things-” Loud clanging interrupted Concord’s nagging. Monty slid out from his work.
“Explain? EXPLAIN? YOU DON’T THINK I’VE TRIED? IT JUST FLIES OVER HER HEAD. I TRY TO BE NICE, I TRY TO BE PATIENT AND CALM AND WHATEVER FUCKING ELSE I CAN DO. SHE JUST DOESN’T GET IT!”
“Dude, stop yell-”
“NO! SHE ACTS ALL HIGH AND MIGHTY JUST BECAUSE SHE’S BASICALLY RICH AND THINKS SHE CAN WALTZ INTO MY LIFE AND COMMAND ME TO CHANGE? SHE DOESN’T WANT ME, SHE WANTS A LITTLE BOY TOY SHE CAN ABANDON ONCE SHE GETS BORED. YOU THINK I’M NOT SMART ENOUGH TO REALIZE THAT? THAT I’M NOT SMART ENOUGH TO KNOW THAT SHE HATES THE VERY CORE OF WHAT I AM?”
“You’re crying.”
“Fuck.” A soft sob. “Off.”
“Yeah, no can do. Like it or not, you’re part of Northern New England. You’re stuck with me.” Concord wrapped an arm around the other boy’s shoulders. “We’re basically family, like it or not. I know she doesn’t listen. I get it. She’s stubborn, that’s for sure. But here’s my plan, okay? Trust me, it’s a doozy.”
Silence. Never had LA felt more uncomfortable. Monty was acting odd, showing no emotion, a huge change from his normally smiley nature. After what had happened, she expected him to avoid her. Obviously he was upset, which made the request to meet up a shock. She wasn’t expecting an apology from him at all but she also certainly wasn’t expecting him to be emotionless and cold.
“You need to stop.” Monotone. He watched her shudder.
“Stop…what?” He wanted to wince at how small she sounded. Here they were, one of the largest cities in the nation and someone who didn’t even classify as one. And he was the terrifying one.
“Acting like a lovesick idiot. Grabbing me. Kissing my cheeks. The flirting and the attempts to change me and make me into some ‘rich and fancy boy’ need to stop.” Confusion. He watched her mouth those words back to him, before a look of shock set in.
“I’m…sorry. I never meant…Never mind. I’ll stop. I swear on everything I own, I’ll stop.” With that, she left. If this was his plan, why did Monty’s heart feel like it had been stabbed? It had worked, hadn’t it?
For weeks, she avoided him. No hellos, no glances, nothing. What used to be sketches of various parts of the meeting turned into her, often times with her hair pulled up. These were burned the second he made it home. Finally, the meetings ended, leading to a small break where he was able to settle back in at home. Fall had just begun, the leafs turning various, vibrant colors. His own, personal heaven.
Most of the time, Monty was left alone outside of meetings and his fellow New Englanders, something he honestly preferred. Just about everyone else annoyed him and his brother, which lead to their house being hidden in the mountainous woods of the Green Mountains. Even now, he had woken up as normal and was beginning to prepare breakfast, which in this case was pancakes. Actually, when wasn’t it pancakes?
Then he heard the doorbell echo through the room. No one, not even his ‘family’, the other New Englanders, visited this early. They all had things to do and they all understood that the Vermont Mounties did not like dealing with anyone besides each other before noon. A glance at the stove clock told him it was only 8 am, four hours before the so-called barrier was lifted. There were only three options for that bell going off. One was that Liam got locked out and was either drunk or hungover. The second was an emergency. Third, some flatlander had shone up. Monty didn’t even want to think it was the third.
The world loved proving him wrong. Apparently, either karma or fate hated him. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he took in the sight before him. LA in a ponytail was cute, sure. As was the the muddy jean cut-off shorts and torn plaid-like shirt but none of the outfit suited the girl. Where were her heels? Her dress? Honestly, he would’ve been happier with the surprise if she was wearing that. Whatever she was in now was just… awkward.
Monty didn’t have the energy to produce the ‘Mainer’ personality he had worked on. Hell, he didn’t even have the energy to listen as she tried speaking about trucks. Something about…mud driving? He held the bridge of his nose, leaning on the doorframe.
“LA, it’s 8 in the morning. How did you even find my house?” Silence. “Alright, listen, I’m too tired for this whole ‘interaction’ thing and would really prefer to just eat my breakfast in peace.”
“Oh…sorry. I guess I must be annoying, huh.” He felt a sigh escape. She sounded so sad. Why did she have to act like this? As cute as it was, she looked incredibly uncomfortable, tugging on the somewhat tight clothing.
“Listen, no one, and I mean no one, is allowed to visit Vermont and I until 12pm.” A gasp.
“Ah, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-“
“If you annoy me, I’m kicking you out. No second chances here, got it?” A soft ‘huh?’ floated to his ears. He opened his eyes, leaning forward. “Look, you’re lucky it’s fall. It may not get cold in your part of the country but here? You’ll freeze in that. I also doubt you’ve eaten. I may not be a very open person but I’m not heartless. Just get inside, you can borrow some of my clothes. They may be big, but at least they’re clean. And actually cover you.” He muttered the last part before shoved himself up, not even glancing behind him to see if she was following. The door closed, though he didn’t hear any footsteps. “Just take your shoes off and follow me.”
Silently, she listened, much to his shock. He had to admit, he was expecting resistance. It didn’t really hit him what was happening until he was standing in his room, looking for clothes. LA was in his house. LA was going to be wearing his clothing. Hell, she was going to be eating his cooking. He felt his heart skip a beat and quickly thanked whatever cosmic force had caused his brother to vanish.
“You’ll have to wear some sweatpants and a t-shirt, nothing else I own will fit you. Any complaints?” He questioned, doing his best to hide how nervous he suddenly felt. A glance at her was responded to with a shake of the head. “Good. Here, try these.” With that, he tossed her a pair of gray sweats, a black shirt, and a plaid button up. “You’ll want to wear all of it. It’s cold and our heater hasn’t been prepared for winter yet.” Monty didn’t hang around, vanishing downstairs to the kitchen, avoiding her eyes.
Once downstairs, he fought his blush back as he continued his task of cooking, hoping to at least blame the redness on the heat from the pan. Luckily, it took a couple of minutes for LA to reappear, keeping her head down. Monty was more than a bit pleased that she kept the ponytail.
“I’m sorry for showing up and making you feel like you had to help me.” He felt himself groan, tapping his spoon to the side of the skillet.
“Listen, just sit. This batch will be done soon. And trust me, someone showing up at my door first thing in the morning does not make me want to help them. Very much so the opposite.” He could hear a sharp intake of breath as she pulled a chair out. “Alright, I don’t have the energy for the ‘Maine’ thing, so just listen. I get you’re trying to connect with me for whatever reason. I’m not that dumb. While you may have gone about it in an awful way-“
“I should’ve listened to Izzy…” He paused at the whisper.
“I have no clue who ‘Izzy’ is but yeah. You really should’ve. Not that it was offensive or anything. Just obnoxious. Do you remember what my point was during our meeting a couple of weeks ago?”
“You felt like I was trying to control you. And that my interests were obnoxious. And I promised I’d stop but here I am…”
Yea- What?” Confused, Monty turned, setting a plate in front of the blonde.
“Was I…wrong?” A confused laugh rose in his throat as he stared at her.
“Uh, yeah? I never said anything about control not your interests. I said you were-” Oh. Silence. Slowly, he sat across from her, staring at his plate. Placing his elbows on either side, he dropped his face into his hands. Here he thought it was over. “I didn’t mean you were controlling me. Trust me, Vermont tries to all the time. I’m used to things like that. And I didn’t mean your interests were wrong.”
“Then what was I doing?” The almost begging tone nearly got him to lift his head. Nearly.
“You were trying to change me. Even if you didn’t mean to, you were. I’m not a suit and tie kind of person. I’m not into fashion, I actually couldn’t care less. Vermont and I are outdoorsy guys who wear a lot of plaid. We go mudding- wait, is that what you meant by mud driving?” He looked up, shaking his head, laughing at the thought. He pressed him palms into his cheeks. “Never mind. We go mudding, hiking, and hunting. I fix cars and trucks for fun. I’m not what you’re used to, LA” For the first time, he looked her right in the eyes. “I’m not a toy you can dress up. I’m not interested in that life. I can’t think of a person who would be.”
“T-toy? I never…I never meant to come across like that. And I never wanted you to change! I just thought you’d look, you know, nice in that style of clothing. Not everyday but one in a while.” With a deep breath, she closed her eyes. Monty blinked. He hadn’t realized he had been staring until she moved. “I never saw you as some sort of ‘toy’. In fact, you remind me of Izzy and Nathan- I mean, Sacramento and Northern California. I guess I thought you’d react to the comments the same way they do, with a eye roll and a laugh. But they did grow up with SoCal and I. They’re used to it. I’m very sorry for coming across that way.” She slowly opened her eyes, keeping her head down. For a couple of minutes, the two of them sat there, L.A. picking at the pancakes and Monty watching her. After a moment, he asked a question that had been on his mind for a while.
“Alright, so I get the comments part. But what about the lovesick attitude? I doubt you treat your family that way.” If anyone asked, both would swear to the grave that LA didn’t blush. LA to keep her image and Monty wanted to keep the ability to see the bright red girl to himself. The stuttering only helped further the redness. He felt warmth rise to his own cheeks. “I see. Well, it should be noted that I didn’t like the outfit you wore here.”
“I, uh, kinda figured… I should pay Izzy back for it before I forget.”
“Good to know. Let me make one think clear, though. Changing for someone else is stupid. And that includes yourself. So, we both know you know nothing about trucks, mudding, ect. What do you enjoy? Besides fashion, I mean.”
“Well, I can, like, surf. Even. In. Heels.” He could see pride well up in her after the statement. Even if the ability to surf in general was interesting to the landlocked capital.
“See, now we’re getting somewhere. That’s an actually interesting fact. What about movie-“
“I am literally Hollywood. I know all the easter eggs, the classics, everything.” She scooted closer, a gleam in her eyes. Monty smirked.
“Oh? Well, then we have something in common. I just so happen to have a movie collection. Shall we pick through it?”
“You. Are. On.” LA practically launched herself from the chair, food all but forgotten. Monty chuckled, grabbing both plates. Might as well eat as they watch, right? “Oh, and Montpeli-“
“Just call me Monty.”
“Alright, Monty. I just wanted to tell you to call me Lizzy.” He was glad she looked away after that smile. If he had been red before, he didn’t want to know what color he was now.
“Deal.” He lead the girl into his shared living room. And felt like screaming. The entire room was a mess, various guns and knives laying around, not to mention a couple of beer bottles. He closed his eyes, hoping that he was imagining the room’s state. “Uh, sorry. Guess Liam and I haven’t cleaned up in a while. Jacob and Connor are the only two who visit a lot.” He gave a shaky laugh. If how he acted didn’t scare her off, this had to. He glanced over as she took in the mess in front of her. “I, uh, doubt my room is much better. Sorry, Lizzy.” A giggle surprised him.
“Wow, this is just so...you!” The girl leaned over in laughter, much to his embarrassment. I mean, she wasn’t wrong. “How about this, you clear off the couch and table and I’ll pick a movie. We both know I should not be allowed to touch a gun in any capacity.” If he was unsure before, Monty was certain now that he was falling head over heels.
“Um, alright. The movies are in the bookcases.” As she looked over the wall of videos, Monty got to work cleaning. It wasn’t too hard, as most of the lockers were nearby, though he did curse his dear brother’s name at the obscene amount of knives littering the room. Who the hell needed that many ornate knives? Not his brother, that was for sure. A gasp caught his attention.
“Dude, you have BeetleJuice? Guess what we’re watching first!”
“I mean, it was filmed here in Vermont. We have a system. ‘Filmed in A New England State’, ‘Takes Place in a New England State’, and ‘Other’. 13 different groups, some overlap. Maine’s are best viewed around Halloween.”
“Oh, please. Carrie is a classic and is perfect for viewing year round. Anyone who says otherwise is a liar.”
“And I’m sure Maine would agree with you.” Finally, the area was free of dangerous weapons. “Done.” She jogged over, tossing him the DVD case. As he turned to put it in, a metallic noise caught his attention. Glancing back, he was slightly horrified to see her holding one of the more showy blades. He quickly spun around. “Oh, sorry. Let me just…”
“Okay, now this is a pretty knife. What’s it for?”
“Um, mostly just show. Most of Liam’s knives are useless.” She nodded, carefully handing it to him.
“Still, it looks cool.”
“Yeah, how about we watch the movie. I’d rather ignore the issue of my brother and his creepy love for knives.”
Hours later, Liam staggered up the steps to his home. He wasn’t drunk but just tired. The trip to Mass left him exhausted. Dealing with Mass in general left him exhausted. Opening the door, he faintly heard the sounds of a movie. It sounded like the selection screen, though he had to doubt this. There was no way Monty would just leave a movie running, not even for food. Slowly, he crept towards the entrance to the shared living room. Sneaking a glance in, he saw a lump under a blanket, larger than his brother would be. Carefully moving closer, he took note of all the food bowls scattered around. Once he reached the sofa, he saw something he knew he’d hold over Monty for a while. Curled up, fast asleep, was Monty and a girl. But not any girl, oh no. Los Angeles herself was curled up on his chest, slumbering peacefully. ‘My little brother, off falling in love with a westerner.’ Liam thought, leaning over to pull the blanket up further. It was going to be a cold night. A smile found its way onto Liam’s lips as he glanced down at the two. Tugging at Monty’s was a soft smile of his own.
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That Woman Over There - Chapter 2
A You Me and Him Fix-it Fic
Rating: Teen, for some mild w|w eroticism (You bet your sweet ass)
Word count: 4452
Warnings: none
Summary: ~ Set after the birth of Monty, Olivia’s baby ~ A dear friend of Olivia comes to visit for a week, and she disturbs the fragile peace between her, Alex, and John.
Read Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
She woke with a gasp.
The sofa bed was nice enough, but her back ached for her own bed at home. She could’ve gotten a hotel, but Livvie insisted she stay at the house. Her and Alex wanted to take care of her.
Her heart rate decreased to something normal, and she realized why she was scared.
It was too damn quiet.
In her apartment in the meatpacking district, there was always noise. Dump trucks emptying bins full of glass bottles from all the nightclubs and restaurants. Foreign assholes driving around in their souped up sports cars, their engines roaring. Drug dealers screaming to each other from their respective corners. And underneath it all, the thrumming, coked-out heartbeat of the city.
Here, in this lovely little oasis, there was nothing. Not even the big-throated crickets that sang American suburb-dwellers to sleep. It was strange. She rolled out of bed and checked her cell phone. It was a little after 3 AM, local time.
It was 11 PM in New York. She usually went to sleep around that time when she was in the planning stage of her installations. She stretched and looked around at the dark living room. Everything seemed to be in the saturated primary colors of childhood, so different from Livvie’s cool, clean, and pastel. Furthermore, Alex’s influence was clear - in the art on the walls, and the upholstery on the furniture.
She stretched, arms high over her head, and caught of whiff of sweat and cigarette smoke from the pub.
“I need a shower,” she said softly to herself, and shuffled quietly up the stairs. Alex and Olivia’s bedroom door was open. Their blinds were up, and a breeze stirred the paisley curtains. They were a painting of domestic tranquility - Liv, snoring softly with her hand still on the rail of the small rocking crib. Monty lay on his back, dreaming. Alex slept on her side, hugging her pillow, her bum pressed against Olivia. Olivia’s other hand rested on the soft hillock of Alex’s hip.
Her chest twitched in a silent sob. She was so happy for her. She had everything she wanted, and deserved. Back when they first met, Olivia was resolved that although what they felt for each other was real, it was just a naughty phase. It was a mess - Connie, the more outwardly passionate one, came out to her conservative Catholic parents immediately, but Olivia refused to ruin her parent’s lives with such unpleasant news. She was angry at the time, but she could never hate her. In any case, experience taught her that people have to come out at their own pace - it should never be forced, even by a partner.
Alex was the one who convinced her to do it - the one she refused to obfuscate about.
She was a lucky woman.
After her shower, she went to the kitchen to make herself some coffee. She felt for the light switch, found it, then decided not to flip it. There was enough light coming in through the window to see her way around.
She rummaged through the cupboards for a loose pod and slammed it into the coffee maker. She looked out the window as she waited for the drink to brew.
There was music, very faint, and another sound that was familiar. A high-pitched whine. She opened the window and stuck out her head. John’s house was dark, but in his garden, there was a large shed whose door was open. That’s where the warm light and noises came from.
“What’s he doing in there at this hour of the morning?” she said to herself. Most probably crouched in front of a computer screen, typing filth on his MRA reddit page. She picked up her cup from the coffee maker and walked to the back door, staring out in curiosity, then decided to step outside. She wrapped her robe tighter around her and looked over the low hedge to his garden.
The music was intelligible now - it was pop, but in a language she couldn’t understand.
“Oh my God,” she said, and a half smile made her lip twitch. It was Kpop. She was sure of it. That leather-clad chode listened to Korean boy/girl bands? It was too much. The light spilling from the open shed door painted a warm yellow wedge on the lawn. It looked … inviting.
Her toes curled on the grass. She noticed the whine had stopped. Had that been a different kind of music? She walked to the hedge to take a closer look. The silk of her kimono caught in the neatly trimmed bush. Sticks poked at her hips. She raised her cup for a sip-
“Why you spying on me?” John said, coming up from behind and putting a hand on her shoulder.
“Virgen Santísima!” she said, clutching at her chest. The cup flew out of her hand and spattered hot coffee on her feet.
“Oh my God - I’m so sorry -” he said, his smile fading to genuine distress. He put down the steaming cup in his hand, pulled his t-shirt over his head, and dabbed at her feet.
She slapped at him. “Get off me! Why the fuck would you do something like that? I almost had a heart attack-”
When he saw the skin at the tops of her feet reddening, he nearly started to weep.
“I didn’t mean to scare ye like that. I saw you snooping through my kitchen window when I was making myself some tea-” He pointed to the cup by his feet. “What are you doing looking over hedges at this hour of the mornin’?” he asked, his accent becoming broad by the end of the sentence.
“I was making coffee, and I heard noises coming from here.” She shrugged. The fact was, she was being nosy. She just didn’t think she’d get caught.
“It’s my shop,” he said simply, still inspecting her feet. “And you need some aloe for this burn.”
“I dunno whether Liv’s got that, but I can put some calamine lotion on my legs.”
He stood up, a head taller than her. “That’s nonsense. I have an aloe plant on my back porch. I’ll cut you a leaf or two. You’ll be good as new by tomorrow.”
He walked through a gap in the hedge and beckoned to her. She stared at him, unmoving.
“Come on. You were already snooping. Might as well get a closer look, eh?”
She rolled her eyes, but followed him. The skin of her feet was beginning to sting. He put his shirt back on - coffee stained and damp - and walked quickly across his yard to the back porch. He took a small knife out of his pocket and sliced a long, meaty leaf from the plant, then expertly began to peel and split it. Her eyes drifted to the shed door.
“Sit,” he said, pointing to the steps. “They’re clean.” She lifted the kimono over her knees.
“Alright, sweetie, lemme get a good look at those welts.”
“Don’t call me sweetie,” she said curtly.
He shrugged. “Sorry. Encarnación.”
“Or that. I really don’t like it.” She was surprised he remembered. Most English speaker didn’t, or when they did, they mangled it.
“Why not?” he said, gently rubbing the cooling aloe on her skin. Despite being tense, she sighed with relief. “It’s like a Spanish puritan name. Very prim and proper.”
“It means incarnation, but it brings to mind red, bleeding meat. It’s grisly.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why my mother insisted on it and not a nice easy name, like Maria … or Rosa. Rosa’s nice.”
“You and roses,” he said softly, pressing the translucent heart of the leaf on a particularly nasty burn.
“What do you know about me?” she snapped, pulling the robe tight around her thighs.
“Olivia talked a lot about you, especially right before you came. Both Alex and I were very curious to meet you. The artist who makes magic with flowers. The beautiful New York socialite who took Liv under her wing and made her visit one of the best times of her life. ”
She snorted.“Olivia exaggerates.”
“Not about you,” he said earnestly, shaking his head. “Not even a bit.”
“Uh, thanks,” she said, standing up. “I should get back.”
“Of course. Away to bed with ye,” he said, wiping the aloe juice on his jeans. She resented his tone, but she didn’t know why.
Just as she crossed the hedge into Olivia’s yard, he ran to her, covering the distance in four strides.
“Yes?” she said.
He held up the other aloe leaf. “Forget to give it to you. For later. Again, I’m sorry. That’s what I get for trying to be cute.”
“Right,” she said, taking it. “Thanks.”
She turned just before reaching the back door.
“By the way, what’s in the shed?”
He gave her a mischievous grin, something he was quite good at. “My own magic,” he said, and gracefully vaulted the waist-high hedge to his yard.
Show off.
He watched her shadow as she walked into the house, then went into his shop.
Cedarwood plants, already cut to size, littered his work table. Behind it, his hand tools were neatly hung on pegs, or stored in the cabinets underneath the table and against the walls. He flipped off his radio and stood at the shed door, hands on his waist, like his grandfather used to do. A jaw-cracking yawn made him tremble, and he looked down at himself. His carefully chosen concert t-shirt was stained and wrinkled.
I didn’t much like the Verve anyway.
He took it off and cleaned the sawdust from the bandsaw, then oiled the blade.
Take care of your tools, his grandfather always used to say. They’re your bread and butter. That, and keep your shop clean. A shop is a reflection of the craftman’s mind. Organized shop, organized mind.
He finished sweeping and brushed the sawdust into a trash bag. He liked it there, in that shed - the smells, the memories, the peace. Lately, he preferred it to parties and pointless affectation. Mannism was his bread and butter though, but after the divorce, his anger had faded to bemusement.
Not all women were horrific, soul-draining harpies with silky skin and soft, lovely parts he still ached to touch. Not all of them were out to use and discard. Alex and Olivia had convinced him of that. But that was only them. It could be a lesbian thing.
He thought of Connie’s burn-spackled legs and smiled. He really shouldn’t have scared her. And he felt awful for scalding her, but happy he was able to care for her afterward. Maybe she didn’t see him as …
Scoliosis boy. He sucked his teeth.
Did he deserve it? Maybe a little. But he was more than his business. He hoped he could prove that, even though he didn’t know why he was compelled to do it. He picked up the pre-sanded boards, ran his graceful fingers along the smoothed edges.
“You’ll have to wait ‘till tomorrow,” he whispered, and piled them neatly at the corner of the work table and locked the shed.
He did some back stretching exercises in the dark, focusing on long, lean, and straight. After, he breathed on his lilies, then went inside for a good sleep.
Olivia woke up before Monty, breasts aching.
The morning sun sliced into Alex’s placid sleeping face. She was so lovely. The last bit of pink was growing out of her bleached locks, and it made her look like an ink-watered daisy.
She put her hand on Alex’s belly, let the ache echo to nothing, then nuzzled her.
“Good morning,” Alex said sleepily. She spread her legs and lifted the blanket to give her access. Olivia’s mouth watered at the smooth heat between Alex’s thighs. “Don’t stop. I’ll pretend I’m sleeping again if you like,” she said, and chuckled.
Olivia sat up.“No, it’s - um, I have to pump, ASAP. My breasts are screaming.” She waved her hands over them anxiously. The pale orbs were painted with fine blue veins, something that Alex had found is quite enticing. They were heavy, warm, and filled with life. Alex crawled to her and pulled on her tanktop strap.
“Why don’t you you just feed Monty?” she said, grazing her fingertips on her swollen breasts. “You just had two glasses of wine last night.”
“Dunno. I just want to pump this bit out, just to be sure. There’s enough bottles in the fridge to get to this afternoon.”
Alex pulled down the other strap, and gently undid her stretchy nursing bra. Her beautiful nipples were chapped red and sore with Monty’s voracious feeding. She cupped her breasts gently in her palms, caressing the hot silk of her skin with her thumbs.
“They’re being slowly gummed to oblivion,” Olivia said, flustered. She tried to cover herself, but Alex shook her head and removed her hand. She sat on her haunches in front of her.
“It’s okay,” she said, and kissed the tops of her breasts, brushing her sleep-warm lips on her skin. Olivia let out a soft wheeze that made her smile. She started to undo the tie on her pajama bottoms, leaning into her until she lay back. She pulled them down past her hips and ran her fingers right underneath where her c-section scar was a fading pink line. Olivia tugged at the post pregnancy belly wrap she still wore.
“Monty’s right here,” Olivia said breathlessly.
Alex kissed her, biting her lower lip. “Then be quiet.” Her hand moved down to where Olivia was downy and damp, and she sighed.”That’s yummy,” she said, then quickly removed her sleepshirt. Alex’s breasts were still pert despite the pregnancy - but a bit larger because of it. She was both cursed and blessed, and the glint of steel on her left nipple made Olivia swear. She wanted to give in, but there was something in her that had gone dormant. The thirst she had for Alex before and during the pregnancy had faded to nothing. It’s as if her pussy was broken.
Alex started to pull off her sleep pants, but Olivia shook her head.
“Not now,” she said softly.
“I’ll be gentle, mein frau,” she said, her eyes wet with entreaty. It had been over six months, and oddly, her own experience had not hurt her libido. “You won’t have to do a thing but lay back and enjoy.” She kissed the insides of her thighs. She was so needy that even Olivia’s faint scent made her shiver. Just as her head dipped between her thighs, Olivia popped up.
“No! Please,” she said. Monty began to whine at the noise. “See? Monty’s up.”
Alex sighed, then pulled Liv’s pants back up. “I’ll wash up and prepare a bottle.”
“Nice,” Olivia said, already picking the baby up from the crib and clicking her tongue at him. “Good morning, darling. How are you? How are you?”
Monty gurgled and tugged on her blond hair affectionately.
She watched them from the door, waiting for her blood to cool. She was horny, but so happy. She had Olivia. And a beautiful baby boy. It was not what she imagined at this point in her life - but it was better. The fading pain worked its way to her heart.
It’s what she called it, when she couldn’t face up to calling her by name - Jo. Baby Jo. John knew, and thought it was fitting - it was like having a girl junior. But Jo wasn’t to be. At first, her bitterness made her want to hate all the world in general, and Olivia specifically. After all, if she hadn’t inseminated without consulting her, she wouldn’t have gotten blind drunk and slept with daft John and gotten pregnant.
It was all cause and effect, right?
She wanted to hate her, but she couldn’t. It was impossible, even though she was angry. Olivia was type A to the hilt - a rad barrister, and super-organized and persnickety - but her pregnancy was a mess. She couldn’t be a mum alone. And, even thought at first it hurt to see her own belly shrinking as her’s grew, she powered through, for love.
If she could have no regrets about smoking laced weed at a fucking carnival, or getting pregnant by the dudebro next door, she could stay with Liv. And she did.
She went downstairs and found Connie doing stretches on the living room floor. Her legs were stretched and wide apart, and she leaned into the carpet, breathing slowly. She wore no more than a pair of panties and a tank top with lace cups. In other words, she could see everything. And everything was banging.
She had the body karate going on.
“Oops!” she said loudly, walking past and into the kitchen. She slammed a bottle into the bottle warmer.
“I’m so sorry!” Connie said. She heard her running around the living room, a zipper, and rustling cloth. She came in wearing a pair of jean short shorts and a t-shirt. She smiled bashfully. “I hate being that bitch, but it seems like I’m her regardless sometimes.”
Alex put her hand up. “It’s totally okay. We don’t do much stretching ourselves lately, but it’s still a nice to watch.”
Connie smiled, and dared to touch Alex’s tangled bleached locks. “I know it’s not on purpose, but your hair looks awesome,” she said, pulling on her fading pink ends. “Are you gonna cut it off, try another color?”
“I wanted to cut it off,” Alex said.
“You going straight then?” Connie said, joking.
“Never! I want to cut the pink out and try something else. I was thinking… green and purple.”
“It’s perfect. You’re giving me all sorts of mermaid teas,” Connie said, fluffing her hair. Her body was pressed against her side, and the softness of her breasts made her feel dizzy. Before she could stop herself, she looked down.
“The Eurythmics,” she said, pointing to Connie’s shirt. She tried to ignore the fact her nipples poked through the fabric.
“You like ‘em?” Connie said, puffing her chest out. Alex blushed. “They’re sick right? Annie is, generally.”
“Yeah, sick. Totally,” Alex said, hoping she didn’t notice her ogling, but Connie seemed oblivious.
“Here,” Connie said, took it off, and handed it to her.
“Shit -you don’t have to do that-” Alex said, but took it from her. She averted her eyes, but she could still see lace and perked nipple in the corner of her eye.
“Naw, man. I want you to have it - something to remember me by. Also, I have another one, with her wearing that rad feather headdress from the Why video. I’m good,” she said, and walked back to the living room to cover up.
Olivia came downstairs, and Alex heard a squeal and the smack of kisses as Connie took Monty in her arms. Olivia went into the kitchen, eyebrows high. She waved her hands over her body, cupping her hands underneath her own breasts in a curvy pantomime.
“I know,” Alex said, wrapping her arms around her waist and kissing her neck.
“She tends not to wear much - she’s been like that since she was a teenager,” Olivia said into Alex’s hair. “I’ll tell her if it bothers you,” she said, but she chuckled.
“Eh … I think I can deal for the rest of the week,” Alex said, winking at Olivia. They both looked into the living room, where Connie swung Monty in her arms to the baby’s delight. She wore an open-sided 90’s MTV t-shirt.
“I get it,” Alex whispered. Monty’s star-shaped hands grabbed at Connie’s breasts. He was hungry.
“Hmm?” Olivia said. Her arm was wrapped around Alex’s ribs.
“I wouldn’t wear much either if I looked like her,” she said.
Olivia swatted her bottom. “You know you’re quite yummy yourself, with your little sailor shorts and see-through tops,” Olivia said. Alex raised her brow. Now she was frisky? But she would take what she could get.
“Maybe I’ll wear something nice today,” Alex said, then gently bit her earlobe. The little gold hoop in Liv’s ear clicked against her teeth. The hand resting on her ass finally squeezed.
“I won’t complain,” Olivia said, flushed. Just a half hour ago, everything was dead underneath her belly button. She watched as Connie lifted Monty’s shirt and blew a raspberry on his belly. The baby screamed and giggled, kicking into her flat belly. She stared at the line of her throat, down to the softness beneath. Hers were the first breasts she ever touched, and tasted. All at once, her muscle memories came back. She remembered the different textures and flavors of her, her sounds. Her arm twitched around Alex, bringing her back to herself.
That was years ago. And she had learned a lot since then. She looked down at Alex, who smiled indulgently as Connie pretended to eat Monty’s chubby feet.
“Om nom nom nom,”’ Connie said, then tickled his sides. He wriggled with pleasure.
Alex’s hair smelled like lilac and smoke, a scent she now found comforting. The byzantine blue of her eyes, her easy beauty, made her giggle out loud like Monty. She was surrounded by love.
Connie looked up. “Like mother, like son,” she said, smiling at her. Alex kissed her cheek and walked into the living room.
“Time for breakfast, peanut,” she said, picking up the baby. Connie pouted, and patted the sofa.
“Commere, Liv,” she said. Olivia sat beside her, back straight and knees clenched tight together … until she saw the red blotches on Connie’s legs.
“God, what happened?” she said, tapping the skin delicately.
“Ah, nothing. I spilled some coffee on myself last night in the dark,” she said, shrugging. She didn’t know why she didn’t say what actually happened.
“You would, “ Olivia said. Connie’s clumsiness was a running joke. “I have some calamine in the cabinet. I’ll go get it.” She stood and walked into the kitchen.
“You don’t need to-”
John walked in, fresh as a daisy, wearing a giant grin. She was beginning to think it was his thing. And it was annoying.
“Morning, beautiful. Sleep well? He said, sitting down in the overstuffed chair in front of the window. He wore loose-fitting pants and a tank top. His freckled arms were slim, but well-shaped. He crossed his ankles in front of him, and his long legs seemed to stretch to the middle of the room.
“You’ve made yourself comfortable,” said sardonically, opening her suitcase and digging through it. She had to keep her hands busy.
“You look great. Classic MTV was the balls,” he said. She pulled a silk drawstring bag from the bottom and spilled its contents on the sofa.
“What is that tangle?” Olivia said, coming back with a steaming cup of herbal tea and the bottle of pink mud.
“I thought you hated herbal tea,” Connie said, eyeing the cup.
“It’s for better milk production,” she said, but she made a face. Connie and John laughed together, but Connie stopped. The synchronicity made her want to kick his leg. Olivia plucked at the ball of necklaces on the sofa.
“Why would you do this?” she said, trying to separate a pearl necklace from a tangle of gold and silver chains. She held up the pearls and clucked her tongue. “I gave you these! They’re Mikimoto,” she whined.
Connie shrugged. “Don’t have a jewelry box,” she said.
“But what about the one your mother-” Olivia started, then her mouth snapped shut. “Right.”
John looked back and forth between them, curious.
“What is it?” he said.
“Mind your business, Braveheart,” Connie said. It didn’t have the effect she wanted, since he leaned back, holding his stomach and laughing with his whole body.
“Oh, that’s rich … brilliant,” he gasped, slapping his thighs. His face was pink, his large eyes rimmed with tears.
“Oh, fuck off,” she said, and walked into the kitchen, where Alex had Monty in a high chair. She fed him porridge, which he wore more than ate.
“What’s he going on about now?” Alex said, then gently scraped the porridge from his chin with the spoon.
“Something that wasn’t that funny to begin with,” Connie said, walking to where Olivia had started scrambled eggs.
“I’m sorry,” Olivia said, her brow furrowed. “I can’t keep my mouth shut to save my life.”
“No biggie,” she said, and gave her a quick hug, and a peck on the cheek. She stared into the skillet. “I’m starving.”
“I know. You like them with dill and green pepper, on buttered toast?”
“You know me too well,” she said, and sat by Alex. She dipped her finger in the warm porridge, tasted, then made a face. “That’s nasty.”
“It’s for Monty. It’s made with Liv’s breast milk.”
“Oh wow,” she said, her face twisted. Alex and Olivia laughed. Porridge flowed out of Monty’s mouth as he smiled, wanting to share in the merriment. Connie made a thumb’s up at Olivia. “Really prime product. Good job.”
John loped in, curious about the laughter, and took some eggs from the pan. “Ooh, that’s better than your usual,” he said, and tried to get more. Olivia slapped his hand with the spatula.
“That is for our guest,” she said, spooning the fluffy eggs onto a plate.
“Aren’t I a guest?” he said, sniffing at the herbed eggs as she put the plate in front of Connie.
John looked over her shoulder. “You fancy sharing a bit with me? It looks like a lot, and I’m sure you’re watching your figure.”
The kitchen went silent. Even Monty seemed to squeal with disapproval.
“I’m not suggesting she needs to...” His voice cracked. The women stared balefully. He put his hands up. “I think I’ll make my own brekkie,” he said, and backed out the door.
“What a twat!” Connie said, her face red with anger.
“Language!” Olivia said, pointing at Monty.
He poked his head back into the kitchen. “ I wasn’t suggesting that you aren’t absolutely gorgeous, mind you. You sure you don’t want to share?” He gave her a toothy grin.
Alex threw the burp rag at him. “Bugger off, mate,” she said.
Olivia just threw up her hands.
Read Chapter 3
#That Woman Over There#you me and him#David Tennant#fanfiction#watch me work#the title's an acronym#I'm so sorry if readmore doesn't work on mobile
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~Golden Passion ~
Chapter 4 🎃
Jasper Jordan x reader 1920s Au
Concept: You’re the young new bride to a wealthy gentleman, and Jasper is your butler. Who you start having a dirty and passionate affair with.
A/N: Sorry this took so long! Weekends are my busiest times of the week, and I had a final this week do I was stressin’. This, as well as my Pages seires are continuing, and as always, I am taking requests! Thank you all for your fantastic feedback! I’m so glad you guys like these!✌❤
Warnings: NSFW, mentions of murder, etc.
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Fall came surprisingly fast. The days flew by with the cool wind that surrounded your home. The time came for big fur coats, and warm fireplaces. The new season called for a new wardrobe, and sense of fashion according to the girls. Your peers which taught you the in and outs of being a rich man’s wife. In a short period of time, you had become quite the little charm.
Somehow, you managed to become the most convincing wife to your Mr, who adored you. He’d give you anything you asked for, and in return you’d bless him with a peck on the cheek or lips. Rarley, did he ask for more. And the most he did ask for, was for you to sit in his lap while he read the newspaper to you and smoked his cigars. All the while, you kept your dirty little secret hidden away.
You continued with Jasper. Sharing intense moments of passion and lust often. It occured several times a day preferably. While your husband was at work by the time you woke, Jasper would enter to bring your morning coffee. Setting the tray to the side, before quickly removing what he could of his uniform and hoping into bed with you. You loved leaving hickies and marks on his body that only you would ever know about. He was always such a tender and sweet lover, until you encouraged otherwise.
Moments, like when you were left alone in your office. Where he bent you over your desk and held your hips tightly as he thrusted you into the rich mahogany furniture. Any amount of time the two of you spent alone, no matter how small, was never wasted. Even if it was just a passionate kiss, you felt yourself so desperate for him. One afternoon you sat with the girls as the sun set.
“So Y/N, that butler of yours…” Clarke inquired, picking up her drink from the end table. Your eyes flickered over to Jasper, who stood at attention. His eyes flickered brightly as he paid close attention to you, as he always did. “Is he, still employed by you.” She hinted closley. Meaning, were you and him still continueing with your affair. You couldn’t help but smile while your cheeks bruned a light pink.
“He is.”
“And how is his services?” She winked as the other girls giggled curiously. Awaiting an asnwer. You hadn’t gone into detail. All they knew was that it was happening. Your smile widened and you looked down, a little shy about the fact. After all, your lover stood across the room as you spoke.
“Beyond Satisfactory.” The room irrupted in laughter and girlish excitement. You noticed Jasper smile to himself before winking at you. There was something there, more than lust.
“Just be careful my dear.” Oleta warned. “Your Mr. isn’t exactly the forgiving type.”
“Oleta.” Clarke tried to hush her.
“What do you mean?” You asked, observing your friend’s behavior. Alice and Dea stayed quite as they leaned against the wall of your parlor room. Oleta gazed at you intently, ignoring Clarke.
“The woman before wasn’t so lucky my dear. I’ll say that much.” She took another drink, clearly, a little tipsy already.
“Oleta, please. Don’t scare the poor girl. You’re already intimidating as it is-”
“Vivian’s death was no coincidence. Women just don’t drop dead like that!” She insisted, turning her argumentative gaze from Clarke, to Alice and Dia, ans then you. “You may have married a rich man. But you married a reckless beast. Tred lightly my dear.” And with that, she took another drink, and plopped herself down on the couch. You took in deep breathes. This was, upsetting to say the least. After all, Monty had warned you. But, that was for Jasper’s saftey. For fear of him losing his job. Oleta was just a drunk. An angry, old drunk, who slept with her step-son. At least you weren’t so crued.
Soon Halloween was upon you, and you had thrown an extravagant costume ball in celebration of the holiday. Even your faculty was reqired to wear a special unfirom for the occasion, which disguised them. The large party, full of drinking and music went well into the night. You, tipsy, felt yourself more needy than ever. The crowd was loud, and busy. You had lost your Howard in the house somewhere, and started looking for Jasper. He, somehow was easier to find. You stepped into the kitchen where you find him, about to bring out another tray of food. But you crashed your lips into his. Completely unaware that Raven stood not even a foot away from the two of you.
Jasper leaned back in a small act of defiance, since she was there. He pulled you pack, his hands on your shoulders.
“Are you mad!?” Raven only laughed at the two of you.
“Your secret is safe with me.” She winked, before stepping out of the kitchen with a finger over her lips. Jasper gave a soft moan, and took a deep breath of relaxation as you gently bit his earlobe.
“Y/N…please. It’s so dangerous.”
“I don’t care. I want you my darling.” You whispered in his ear as your hands made an effort to embrace him. He finally let up, and pulled you into a seperat section of the house. From the kitchen, there was a separate set of stairs that was hidden behind a door. Used for servants like himself to travel through the house without being seen. But with this party, no one was using it at that time. He started kissing you passionately, as he opened the door and layed you down on a few steps. He closed the door behind the two of you. The small space dimly lit by a few lights decorating the wall.
“Ohhh Y/N.” Jasper cooed as he pulled up the skirt of your dress, and quickly pulling off your underwear. He wasted no time, as usual. Before you knew it, you were panting as his hard cock slid deep inside of you. You couldn’t get enough of that feeling. Of him being so close. He burried his face in your neck as he fucked you. His thrusts passionate and determined. Perhaps it was your tipsy state of mind, but you came easily within a matter of minutes. He followed a few after, and shook himself from the after glow. He fixed himself, before he looked down at you. You smiled up at him, your cheeks red with alchohol, and your body weak with pleasure. He was hovering over you still, when there was a loud sound behind you, and a bright light illuminated the room behind Jasper’s figure. Your heart skipped a beat. You were screwed for sure.
“Oh Jesus!” A familiar voice cursed. Monty covered his eyes, before Jasper went to make an exscuse. Monty didn’t listen, and the two bickered while you quickly pulled up your panties and made yourself proper. “Jasper! How many times have I told you to stay away from her!” He scolded.
“Oh come on Monty-”
“Don’t you try to get out of this! And you!” He pointed at you, as you closed the door behind you and watched him. Suddenly, you were very sober, and very insulted. You glared at Monty as he looked at you.
“Careful what you say to me, Butler. I am the wife of your employer. And I am more likley to have the butler that displeases me fired, than I am to have Jasper.” You spoke matter of factly, leaving Monty speechless before you kissed Jasper on the cheek. You walked out, and joined the party again. Confident. All seemed fine and marry. You continued your routine with Jasper, as your husband became more and more absent. That was, until your Mr. hired a new maid. A little country girl by the name of, Maya.
#golden passion#jasper jordan x reader#jasper jordan x reader smut#jasper jordan smut#jasper jordan#jasper jordan imagine#devon bostick x reader smut#devon bostick x reader#devon bostick imagine#1920s au
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Gravity - Part 14
Summary: Reader’s a young security officer (Lieutanent Junior Grade) who happened to be on an away mission and fall hard for a certain Chief Engineer. Both of them aren’t the most outgoing regarding their feelings and tend to just watch each other from a distance, which is going to change.
Wordcount: 1650
A/N: I am so sorry for how long it took me to write this, but at the moment work and my wedding and my move and such are all chipping away at my time as there’s so much to organize and do. I am sorry!
Apart from that: This is it. The last part of “Gravity”, a fic I started to get back into the fic writing business. I thank each and everyone of you for your time, your kind feedback and the nice words you left me and that encouraged me to keep on writing. I learned so much while writing this fic. I learned to love this fandom, which is kind and welcoming and supportive. Thank you, guys!
Also: There will be a, short, epilogue, before this fic is finally finished. But just a short one :)
This fiction is set in AOS
Warnings: Implied sex. Fluff. MORE FLUFF.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13
Morning sneaked into your room on silent toes, as if not to disturb the softness of sleep and the tangle of entwined limbs on the sheets. The first light of an artificial sun crept upon our eyes, through the glass windows and traced your skin where your lovers lips had walked before. You woke to the warmth of another body next to yours and the soft up and down of his chest, because your fingers sprawled across it. He stirred and through half opened eye lids you could see the first light of the day catch in his blondish hair, tug at his lips and soften the rough edges of his body. You exhaled, smiling, reliving the memory of the day before vividly. Your fingers traced idly over his chest, fingers drawing a line down to his stomach, slowly following the line of his hip. He grumbled something, a sound that tickled in your chest and made you giggle with delight and he blinked slowly, his left hand cupping your face. A smile spread on his lips.
„Ya’re’ke..?“ he mumbled and you giggled once again.
„What?“
The engineer „hmph“ed and rolled on his side, arms catching you in an embrace and pulling you close. His lips caught yours and the kiss tasted of promises made last night. „Ya’re awake“, he stated, this time more clearly and his smile spreading into a grin.
A morning was no time for speeches and long talks, but for stolen kisses and to bury his face in your hair, take a deep breath and gently, lazily explore each other as only lovers did. It was a time for giggles and whispers and love letters written by your lips on his skin and him answering with his fingers dipping south and curiously eliciting the language of delight from your lips. Those early rays of light were there to form a net, catching the words that fell from each others lips as your bodies moved in unison.
Noon was the time for laughter and trickling water that fell down your chin. Water that dripped down your shoulders to be eagerly caught by his tongue. Noon was soap in your hair and his fingers getting lost in the tangle of your hair. Each bursting bubble of soap contained more laughter until you had to catch your breath and lean against him and you got to your knees and grinned at his widening eyes and the soft „Oh“ sound he made, full of pleasure and surprise. Noon was soap in your eyes and mission abort and more laughter until you found yourself on the bed again, hair still wet and dripping.
„So.“
„So?“
You had just finished lunch and decided to actually put some clothes on. For the moment - and for the party. Scotty as well as you yourself seemed to have gotten at least a hundred messages on your PADDs telling you about the when and who and where.
„We’re actually gonna leave this hotel?“
„If we dinnae show up tonight, Captain’s gonna send an away team“ the Scotsman smirked, standing in front of a range of shirts. They were spectacular in color, to say the least.
„He wouldn’t dare! He knows exactly .. I mean ..”, you cleared your throat, remembering your exchange with Bones.
„Knows that we’re bein’ at it?“, he raised his eyebrows and turned his head to face you for a second. The way he stood there, clad in his black trousers and without a top, you found it somewhat difficult to register his choice of words.
„Yeah.“
„All the more reason for him to send an away team.“
„You could fight them of bare handed.“
„Aye, lass. Me bare handed, bare chest, Captain storming in to lead them.“ you started to laugh at the thought of it. „After him comes Mr. Spock, Phaser set to stun, right crashing through that door.“ he chuckled, chose a shirt and a jacket. You watched him in silence. Never had you assumed to wake up next to Montgomery Scott. You never had expected to go to bed with him in the first place. And even if, you’d expect it to be a one time fling - looking at him now you felt lucky and the way he lifted his head and his eyes lightened up when he saw you, you just knew the feeling was mutual.
„So.“
You lifted your eyebrows.
„We’ve got 4 hours until the party starts, so I propose we explore Yorktown and head for the club afterwards.“ He walked over to you and offered you his arm, which you gladly took. „Let’s go.“
The booming sound of techno music welcomed you to the designated party of today. Loud enough for you and Scotty to have to yell at each other to communicate. Lights flashed across the dance floor and the first people were already dancing, but the both of you pulled over to a group of familiar faces. Kirk waved you over.
„Ah, young love.“ he quipped and grinned, skipping a proper welcome and just patting you on the shoulder.
„You two look good. Enjoying your stay, huh?“
„Yes…“ you stretched the world and grinned too, if somewhat forceful. That man knew no boundaries. Scotty squeezed your hand gently and you could see the amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. Bones nodded vaguely in your direction, a glass of scotch in his hands and only breaking his talk with Sulu for a short moment. You caught the eye of one of your crew mates. „I’ll be over there, Monty, if you’re looking for me.“ and left the group to greet your friends from security.
Music played and ebbed away. You were dancing away, drinking with your friends and toasting each other to a great party, shore leave, new found love and loved ones lost. Someone had managed to smuggle a version of „Old Yorktown“ into the Clubs playlist - an old sailor song someone on one of the exploration vessels with more talent in music had rewritten to fit the age of space exploration. It had spread like wildfire across the ships.
It’s a damn tough life full of toil and strife
We spacemen undergo
You sang along - it was more of a chant with your friends and crewmates, someone pushed a tumbler with an amber liquid into your hands. You shoved it down in one go, without giving your tongue time to taste the liquid. You didn’t care.
And we don’t give a damn when the gale is done
How hard the winds do blow
Arms grabbed you left and right and you laughed as you huddled together, still chanting and very, oh so very drunk. You could see Montgomery Scott standing at the edge of your group, a soft smile on his lips, tumbler in his hand and sipping the same liquid you had downed earlier. Bones stood next to him, arm on Scottys shoulder and they both laughed at something he said. But his eyes. His eyes were on you and before the chant took you back in, you smiled back at him.
Yours.
We’re homeward bound from the Deep Space Ground
With a good ship taut and free
Your throat felt raw and dry from singing but everyone was there and the feeling of belonging, of being part of something bigger and greater then yourself elevated your mood.
„For Hyden“, someone yelled and everyone lifted there glass and drank and someone actually managed to get another round of drinks for everyone without ever stopping the song. Your legs felt somewhat unsteady, but you decided to ignore it.
And we don’t give a damn when we drink our rum
With the girls of ol’ Yorktown
Another round of drinks and you lifted your glass as „Yorktown“ fell from your lips and just before you could fall in with the chorus you yelled: „For Cas!“ and glasses were raised and answered „CAS!“ in unison. Someone squeezed your shoulder and dizziness crept into your brain and started to slow down your comprehension for motion but you shoved your drink down and jumped into the chorus with the rest.
Rolling down to ol’ Yorktown, me boys
Rolling down to ol’ Yorktown
We’re homeward bound from the deep space ground
Rolling down to ol’ Yorktown
You stumbled into Scottys arms drunk and laughing and he steadied you with a soft chuckle. „Easy there, lass.“ his accent was stronger then before, a good indicator that he had his share of drinks too. Someone patted his shoulder while going past the two of you, but you were too drunk to see or care.
„We .. should head home, handsome scotsman.“ you spluttered and giggled and snuggled into arms.
„Ya’re drunk as hell“, he stated and patted your head in an awkward motion.
„Ya’re not off better!“ you quipped back in an attempt to mimic his accent. He just laughed and the two of you made your way to the exit.
„Yes, yes we’re leaving“, the scotsman yelled over his shoulder and for a second it was you steading the both of you. You giggled again.
Another chorus of „Rolling down to ol’ Yorktown“ reached your ears, just as the fresh air hit your face. It felt sobering, but only for a second and until you turned your head to the scotsman and felt how your vision seemed to lag behind the movement. It was that state of being. You would regret tonight. Tomorrow morning. But not now.
„Monty…“ you said, the both of you zigzagging slowly back to the hotel.
„Yes?“ his eyes caught yours, warm and kind and hazy from alcohol.
„I think I love you.“
He stopped and smiled and cupped your face with one hand to give you a small, shy kiss.
„I think I love ya too, lass.“
Behind you someone opened the door to the club and you could here the crew of the Enterprise sing.
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