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lilacsandwhiskey · 3 years

Note

Hello can I request a drew x reader smut where she’s Austin north’s cousin and comes to surprise him at filming obx and they all go clubbing together and reader gets drunk so drew takes care of her xx

thanks for the request :) sooo i got suggestive but no smut here and changed it up just a bit! just couldn’t get it right but i hope you enjoy:) also my first drew starkey writing WOO!!!!

My Friend’s Cousin

Pairing: Drew Starkey x North!Reader

Warnings: suggestiveness, language, alcohol

Three days ago you were just Austin’s cousin that was coming to visit. Only three days ago. And now you’re on day four, and you’re Austin’s cousin who just woke up in Drew’s bed.

Day 1

“Please don’t forget y/n is coming to stay this week.” Austin says, folding the last blanket. “Oh yeah, what time does her flight come in tomorrow?” JD asks, sitting on the chair. “4:30, so I’ll go pick her up from there. She said she’d just take the couch.”

Drew overheard the conversation as he walked in from his room. “Dude, your own blood and you won’t let her take your room for the week.” Drew piped in. Austin let out a laugh with a shrug. “She offered!” “I’m washing my sheets.” Drew shakes his head. “And why’s that? Look, I know you’ve had the hots for my cousin since you met her months ago but that’s a failed attempt at getting her in your bed.” Austin says. “First off, I plan to let her take my bed, because I’m a gentleman, and second off, you don’t know that.” “Oh but we do. You literally couldn’t stop ogling her with your eyes the entire day she was here.” Drew is quick to snatch a pillow from couch and throw it as hard as he can at his friend.

When you arrived at their place, you were overwhelmingly welcomed, smothered with hugs from the girls and the guys, hospitality, questions, and dinner made by the one, the only, Drew Starkey.

You didn’t miss the way he hugged you a little longer, mentioning you could take his room and that there were fresh sheets because “someone wasn’t kind enough to offer you his.” You grinned at the shade being thrown as you sat around the table, laughing and throwing embarrassing stories out about Austin growing up.

“Wait, please don’t tell me it was on her. Like maybe beside of her but not on her.” Chase exclaims, smacking the table. “Oh no, it was on her. Tossed and turned ice cream, tater tots, and all covered her. Austin has never had a way with girls.” That wasn’t the end of the stories, though.

Austin was quick to throw out your very own stories, mentioning the time you tripped over your own two feet when your freshman year crush put his arm around you. You had a nasty skinned up knee and hands. “I guess when I fall for someone, I fall hard.” You say with a laugh.

The night carried on with conversations until one by one everyone found themselves going to bed except Austin, Drew, and you. Austin helped make up the pull out bed in the living room for Drew, muttering several thank yous though he finally offered up his own bed. “No man, I’m good. You know I like the couch anyway.” Drew reassures him.

“Uh, do you mind if I just grab a few things out of my room?” “Of course. Are you sure you don’t want your bed? I promise I’ll be good on the couch.” You attempt. “Ah, ah. Stop asking, y/n. I promise, I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.” Drew grabs a few things before heading to the living room, saying goodnight and leaving you with that precious smile of his.

You lay on his bed in the fresh sheets, snuggling up to the blanket you’re sure he’d snuggled up to many nights before and fell right to sleep.

Day 2

Austin was the first to wake up in the house, reminding Drew of their early shoots that day. “Shit, I forgot to grab more clothes out of my room.” Drew wipes his hand over his face, letting out a deep sigh as he looks around the dark living room, recognizing it’s too early. “Here, I’ll go knock on the door.” Austin offers, passing Rudy, JD and Chase in the hall, Madi and Madison following closely behind with audible yawns.

You hear a light tapping, sure it’s a dream. But it doesn’t stop, and neither does the voice whisper yelling your name. Then you recognize it’s not a dream and it’s indeed Austin trying to wake you up. “Pssst.” “What the hell?” You sling back just the top of the covers form your head. “We have to get to set. Can Drew grab some clothes?” “Oh yeah.” “I’ll send you our location if you wanna come when you wake up.” He says before going back out to get Drew.

Drew almost trips over your suitcase in the dark as he enters your room. “Shit, shit, shit. I’m so sorry.” He whispers. “It’s okay.” You say, giggling at the flustered man in front of you who is quick to grab a shirt off the hanger and snatch a pair of pants out of his drawers. “I’ll try not to bother you anymore.” “You’re never a bother.”

A couple of hours pass and the sleep has done you well. You wake up refreshed, taking a quick shower and getting ready. You recognize the lack of breakfast in the cabinets and find yourself looking to see how close the nearest shop was to grab something. You felt pure happiness to see a doughnut shop not even half a mile away.

You followed your GPS carefully, deciding to go ahead and order enough doughnuts for everyone. You Ubered to the address Austin had texted you. A short walk from leaving the car brings you to several cars and familiar faces. Madison runs over to give you a hug, instantly asking how your morning had been. “Great! I actually brought everyone these.” You ushered to your friend. “Why are you literally the best? Can you just move in with us?” She jokes, bringing you over to the table where you set your things.

You notice Drew is the one who is behind the camera last time, something you hadn’t actually gotten to see yet. When you had came the last time, you had only seen bits and it was mostly Chase, Rudy, JD, and Madison, considering it was only a day. Now you were seeing Drew, with extra gelled hair, and a killer grimace. You were intrigued knowing just how kind this man was, to see him playing such a different character. It was beyond impressive.

“Cut! Great work.” You hear, Drew instantly snapping back to his smiley self. His eyes meet yours, which are instantly met with Austin moving in front of him and shooting daggers. “Ehem.” “I’m just admiring that box of doughnuts over there.” Austin’s head turns quickly and is indeed met with said box of doughnuts. One of the crew members is quick to grab one out of the box, making the remark that I can stay on set forever if I bring treats like this all the time.

“Thanks, y/n.” Austin cheers his doughnuts against yours before taking a bite. Drew heard them call for five, and he’s quick to come over to the box grabbing his own. “Let her stay forever.” Drake says with a wink. “But then you’ll never get your bed back.” You remark. “I’m good with that as long as you always feed me these doughnuts.” Austin shakes his head at the conversation in front of him. “Disgusting.” He says with a laugh, walking away.

“I’m sorry I woke you this morning.” Drew says, finishing his doughnut. “It’s your room!” “Yeah, but I’m interrupting your sleep!” “Look, just walk in. I’ll be fast asleep I’m sure, so if you just need to grab something just do it.” Drew nods with a smile. “So I think we’re having a small bonfire tonight. I’m gonna head out to the store after this, want me to grab you anything?”

Hours later, you’re all sitting snug around a fire, Madi on one side, Drew on the other. You didn’t fail to notice that he managed to find a seat next to you at dinner before, and now right by the fire. You felt your legs getting cold, the summer breeze kicking in, and he was quick to offer his blanket and lay it over your legs.

Conversations unfold over the fire, alcohol intake slow as you all just enjoy the company. It’s nights like these that you truly wish you could stick around more often. You and Austin had always been close and it was no doubt that you visited him often. This was the longest visit you’ve gotten to have with him in a while and you were grateful. Meeting the people that he loved so much and loved him right back was important, and the way they accepted you right in was just as awesome. Though he sent threatening daggers across the fire at Drew when he’d casually sling an arm around you, offer you another drink, or laugh a little too hard at your jokes, Austin knew how great Drew was and he wouldn’t try funny business. Drew gushed the first time he met you months ago.

Drew pulled his friend to the side as you’d walked onto set, begging to know who you were. Austin laughed at his desperation, explaining that you were his cousin and very much off limits. Drew kept his distance that day, not without casual conversation and staring, but making it no further than that.

The night slowed as everyone went back in, one by one. You were the last with Drew, who offered to make sure the fire died down before heading in. “I’m not going to let you sit out here alone.” You say, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. “You don’t have to wait up on me.” “I don’t have to do anything except live, die, and pay taxes. But I want to stay out here with you.” You say with a grin.

Conversation became easy between the two of you, him talking about his siblings and his family, the small town he was from, his college days. You mentioned your own family outside of Austin, recognizing that you were an only child so Austin had really became like a brother to you. You talked about college and your dog back at home. You talked about your career and your hopes and dreams. You noticed the way Drew smiled as you talked, taking in every word. He’d ask questions, making sure you knew he was paying attention.

Drew had to stop himself several times attempting to scoot close to you. He managed to keep his shoulder next to yours, tempted beyond measure to hold you as you shuddered under the loss of heat from the fire. The night had became deep, and Drew offered to help you inside. He took the blankets from your hands and placed them in the laundry room. “I should probably shower before I go to bed. Don’t wanna get smoke in your sheets.” “You first.” Drew urged, snatching clothes for the night and the next day out of his room.

Day 3

You tugged on the too short dress for you that Madi graciously let you borrow. You hadn’t been to a club in ages, and you couldn’t remember how to even act in one. You were being dragged by the girls out of the room you’d been getting ready in to meet the guys in the living room. “Trio, here we come!” Madison announces, heels hitting the floor.

The guys greeted you all, compliments being given left and right. Drew was the brave one to come up directly to you, his gaze moving up and down. Biting his lip, he shakes his head. “You look damn good.” You shake your own head with a laugh. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Starkey.”

Piling into an Uber seemed impossible, but after walking into the club and managing to secure a table, things became fun. Laughter continued as you all nurses your first drinks, falling into drinking games, and taking shots. You come back to the table, sliding a shot over the boy who no doubt took the seat next to you. “Take a shot with me.” You slide it into his hand. “You’re killing me.” “You love it.” With the clank of the two glasses, you’re both throwing back the clear liquid, wincing at the burn and taste.

Many shots later, you find yourself a little out of touch with yourself. You felt safe with the people surrounding you, but you knew that your brain was altered. Not altered enough to know who you wanted to dance with.

Drew, on the other hand, had slowed his roll when he noticed how much everyone had consumed so far. He wanted to make sure he was able to take care and make sure everyone got home safely. He sat in the corner, watching as you danced the night away with the people who had become like family.

Watching you was interrupted when your eyes locked on his, causing his cheeks to turn a tint of pink. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” “You’re trouble.” You reach your hands out. “Dance with me.” “What?” “Dance with me, Drew.”

Drew attempted to argue with you, but it didn’t work when your hand made it to his bicep and you were pouting. He knew he was whipped under your touch, which was dangerous. It was dangerous being this close to you, your head against his chest, back against his torso, and your ass dangerously close to him. His hands rested on your hips, like they’d been there several times before.

His heart raced at your movements, the way you’d look back at him with that damn smile. You turn around, facing him with devious look. “I want you to kiss me.” You blurt. You don’t regret it though. “Kiss me.” You repeat, a shocked Drew Starkey staring back at you. “You’re sure?” “100%.”

Drew’s eyes dart around for any sign of Austin, and thankfully doesn’t catch a sign. He licks his bottom lip, pulling you by your waist closer into him. His lips hover over your own before finally placing his soft lips onto yours. The taste of alcohol mixes between the two of you as you let out a small whimper when he pulls back. “Now that I’ve had a taste, I want more.” You say with a giggle. Drew feels himself melt into your touch as you put your hand on his cheek, urging him down again.

The night passes with sneaky kisses, his lips on your neck dancing the night away, and you drinking way too much alcohol, past the point of no return. Your feet are hurting, your head is spinning, and the feeling of Drew kissing you has you buzzed beyond repair. But you feel yourself winding down and are wanting nothing more than to be kissing Drew without a crowd, still fortunate Austin was way too gone to even recognize.

“Take me home.” You whisper to Drew. “That’s a little suspicious.” “I’m sick.” You give a fake cough. Drew quickly leans over to Chase and Rudy, mentioning you didn’t feel good and he was going to help you home. The guys gave him a look before the two of you made it out in one piece to the Uber.

As soon as the two of you made it in the house, you take this as the opportunity to kiss Drew in the ways you wish you could at the club. Drew is quick to return the favor, tongue slipping into your mouth. A moan slips your mouth at the way his hands are holding you, the way he’s managed to press you up against the wall so quickly.

His hands have slid down to your ass, urging you to pick your legs up. Your legs wrap around his waist, swiftly making his way towards his room. He lowers you to the bed, kissing down your neck, sucking gently, earning small whimpers from the sweet contact. His hand runs up and down your sides as he kisses your collar bone, exposed by the low cut dress that had been teasing him all night.

Drew holds the back of your head in a heated kiss that soon turns softer than what you had remembered. And then a sigh escapes his lips and he pulls back, the loss of his touch making you eager. “Y/n, we can’t do this. Not right now.” He says, brushing your hair from your face. “Huh?” Your mind is racing, wondering if something had gone wrong, the alcohol still weighing affect and blurring every line and moment. “Not like this. We’re drunk, I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” Drew is honest with his words, placing another kiss on your lips. You understand, and you nod. “You’re not upset, are you?” “Never. Thank you for being so considerate.” You reply, your heart immediately swelling at the way he took initiative.

“I really do like you, but you’re really drunk and I don’t want this to be something you regret in the morning.” He kisses your cheek before helping you up. He’s helping you pick out pajamas, laying out your makeup wipes from your suitcase. “Here. You go get ready first.” You attempt to move fast, stumbling with the unevenness of your direction. Drew is quick to catch your arm with chuckle. “Easy there.”

You change quickly, wiping off the makeup that has become smeared, a grand reminder of what tonight held. You smile with each wipe. Making your way out of the bathroom, you spot Drew on the couch dressed in joggers and a t-shirt. You limp from the pain of heels, meeting him at the edge. “Can you cuddle me?” The words slip out so quickly and you almost regret it when his eyes meet yours, but a smile comes right behind it.

“Sure, but Austin might kill me if I fall asleep in there. I’m stay till you fall asleep.” He stands up, grabbing your hand to keep you steady as you walk into his room. He helps you under the covers, taking his own spot next to you. You lay your head on his chest, your hand finding rest on his side as you breathe in his scent. You sigh in contentment as the man takes his fingers through your hair. It takes you no time to fall asleep.

Drew finds himself waking frantically when he sees the break of a new day in the window. He feels immediate… not regret… but panic when he hears heavy stomps outside of the door. “Starkey, I may be drunk, but I swear if I open this door and you’re in bed with my cousin, I’m going to beat your ass.”

Your head jerks up at the words, recognizing the panicked man next to you. My, oh my, it was going to be a long rest of the week, but it’s worth it.

#drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey one shot #obx

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nicketynic · 4 years

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Don’t Let Go (2/2)

Part Two of the fic I wrote for @bellarkejanuaryjoy on Day 9.

This part disregards anomaly stuff and Abby’s passing in the finale. Contains (some) sexual content. I also freely admit I was drinking as I finished this, so it’s not proofed and the end may be more poetic and prosey than originally intended.

Caught up in the chaos once more, it was days before they next found a moment alone. In the golden light of a new dawn over Sanctum, Bellamy held his best friend...partner...soulmate, revelling in the return of the complete and utter relief that was having her safe and secure in his arms. Too haunted by her recent revival to have any conscious concern about being a hovery creep, he faithfully dogged at her heels for the rest of the day, her vigilant shadow as she made the rounds among their people.

It was only several hours after the sun dipped below the horizon that Clarke called it quits and they walked side by side to the quarters set aside for her.

At first, his intentions were only to see her to the door, determined to break himself out of this needy fixation and leave her be. But a growing sense of dread filled him the closer they drew to the threshold, Clarke herself hesitated as they came to the door.

He waited for a moment, then two, before softly inquiring, “Clarke, are you alright?”

She began to nod, but stopped herself, visibly struggling for what to say. She opened her mouth to start and stop a few time, growing more and more frustrated with each failure. Seeking his strength, she reached for his hand, Bellamy immediately entwining his fingers. She closed her eyes, breathing in deep, and he raised their joined hands to brush a kiss against her palm as some inkling of understanding finally dawned on him. “Clarke, it’s alright to ask for things you want. It doesn’t make you selfish and it doesn’t make you weak.”

Taking into another breath, steadily meeting his soft, adoring eyes, her sky-blue gaze was vulnerable but determined, “Bell, will you stay with me?”

There was really only one answer he could give.

---

Bellamy Blake was going to die. He was going to perish a very happy man, but perish he would nonetheless.

Shedding their boots and coats, the pair had settled together on the bed, shyness cast away as they wrapped themselves around one another. Lying quietly in the dark, it had not taken long to realize sleep wasn’t yet coming.

“You still awake?”

“Yeah.”

When she chose not to elaborate further, Bellamy tried again. “You okay?”

Clarke let out a low sound, a humorless sort of chuckle, and curtly shook her head. She bumped his chin from where her face was tucked against his neck, and brushed her lips apologetically against his jaw. “Honestly, Bell, I don’t even know if being in the realm of ‘okay’ is even possible anymore.”

“Fair enough.” Bellamy kissed her temple, nuzzling into her hair. She nestled closer. “I’m here if you wanna share what’s on your mind, though. Together, remember?”

She hummed thoughtfully, raising her head to look down at him. “You really meant that, didn’t you?” she murmured. “Together from now on, in everything?”

“Of course,” he avowed, as solemn an oath as he had ever made. Something passed through her gaze that he couldn’t quite read, but before he had time to decipher it further, Clarke had leaned down, cupped his chin, and guided his mouth to hers.

He groaned, pressed himself further into the warmth of her. Bellamy had found his new heaven, wet, hot, and sweet, drawing him in deeper and deeper until he could barely think, barely breathe, knowing only the taste of her. Realization clicked into place in his head, finally recognizing what he had seen in her eyes. Need. Need she was quickly awakening within him as well.

One kiss became two and three and a few dozen more. Clarke fisting the collar of his shirt, pulling him down on top of her as she lay back, slotting their hips together with her legs cinching around his waist. They kissed and kissed until his jaw began to ache and he felt his lips might bruise, bodies arching and grinding in an inseparable mix of fervor and friction specifically designed to be the death of him.

The pressure built and built with every arch, every thrust, every grind, only to reach an unfulfilled plateau of inaction every time. But despite the frustration, riding the edge was a delirious sort of pleasure, ony for an intrusive string of rationale to break through the haze of his ardor.

Even with the maturity of restraint that came with his late twenties, his control wasn’t invincible, and continuing on meant making a mess of the only pants he had in the city. Come morning, neither a walk of shame in those same soiled trousers or calling one of their friends to bring him a change of clothes sounded the least bit appealing, and he reluctantly broke their kiss.

A low whine of protest rose up in her throat as he withdrew, her head tilting up to chase his lips before her eyes fluttered open. Desire had rendered her gaze dark and hungry, pupils blown until only the slightest hints of blue were left, but Bellamy could still read the confusion there. Still, her hold on him tightened. “Bell, don’t stop,” she murmured throatily, rolling her hips up to meet his.

He groaned, clamping down on her hips to still them lest he end up embarrassing himself. “Princess, you keep that up, I’m not gonna last. I want this to be good for you, so you gotta let me loose.

“It is good,” Clarke reassured, pecking his mouth and giving him a soft smile. “Just...don’t let go, Bell. Don’t let me go.”

A lump of emotion rose up in his throat as the layers of meaning to her words settled in his mind. For the first time since their reunion after Praimfaya, he felt that he was finally seeing clearly. Every other move he had made had been a misstep- Octavia, Echo, Madi and that damned chip, Harper and Monty, Jordan, Murphy. Bellamy had made mistake after mistake, and it was beyond time he started making up for his blunders. Time to make up for the hurt, start to heal the wounds between him and Clarke and take his place again as a real partner at her side. Maybe after a thousand apologies and few knocks to his hard head, they could focus on together. And together, they would help Madi, do better with Jordan, untangle the mess with Murphy. One step at a time, side by side.

For now, exhausted and heartsore, he could at least do one thing for Clarke Griffin. He held her close, and he didn’t let go.

They reluctantly parted long enough to shed the rest of their clothes, but they were back together a moment later, skin to skin and body to body. Warm, calloused fingers slipped between them, between her thighs, testing and readying, an ardent groan escaping him as he found her wet and open. Strong arms cinched around her waist, keeping their bodies flush and his grip tight, he held her eyes as he carefully eased himself inside her. True to his word, not letting them part in the rise and fall, he braced his weight against the mattress beneath her, levering on his toes, and slowly began to move.

Clarke clung to him in turn, feeling every brush of his skin, every creak of the bed frame, every rustle of the sheets as they rocked together. Pleasure thrummed through her, tempting her to let her eyes flutter closed and lose herself in the rhythm and alchemy of their bodies intertwining. But still, she held his gaze, reading every ounce of love and trust and devotion he laid bare in his dark eyes, and together (together) they moved as one.

Together. Tomorrow, they would be partners again, side by side to fix their wrongs and those wrought by forces around them. But for tonight, they breathed and arched and kissed and loved, together, as lovers until golden dawn appeared once more over Sanctum, and the wheels of duty began to turn yet again.

#bellarke #bellarkejanuaryjoy #my fic #The 100 #nsfw?

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yiangchen · 5 years

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I will truly never understand people who say that Clarke will never love Bellamy (romantically) as much as he loves her…

Are we watching the same show??

In 4x13, even when Clarke was recalling a time when she didn’t like Bellamy, her fucking face just screamed how much she adores him.

Then we got her saying, “I was just gonna say…” not once but twice, and come on, what else do you think the audience was supposed to think she was about to say other than “I love you”?

Also, she literally radioed him for 2199 days, with no answer, and 372 of those days were after he was supposed to have come home. She radioed him, and only him. And Clarke probably drew everyone, but out of the five members of the ss7 that Madi saw, Bellamy was the only one she recognized instantly. Almost as if, I don’t know, Clarke talked about him most, so much so that the first thing Madi said to him after his name was that Clarke knew he would come.

If that wasn’t enough, 5x12 directly paralleled Lexa’s romantic love for Clarke to Clarke’s romantic love for Bellamy, and in 5x13, Madi told Bellamy she shouldn’t tell him, but that Clarke radioed him every day. Why else would she feel the need to preface that statement if the radio calls don’t not so subtly hint at the fact that she’s been in love with him for six years and still is and doesn’t want him to know?

I just...you do you of course, but how the hell are you missing it?

How can you just not see it?

#bellarke #i love soulmates #clarke griffin #s4 #s5 #the 100

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craniumhurricane · 6 years

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let’s see what develops

For @kindclaws

Basically Sara reblogged this picture and I loved her tags.

On AO3!

Arkadia Elementary wasn't a prestigious school but it was one of the better ones, one of the ones trying to make a difference. It accepted kids from all walks of life and even had a few programs to help the less fortunate. It was initiatives like these that drew Bellamy to want to work at the school in the first place.

And Bellamy loved being a teacher at Arkadia Elementary. People may not think second grade is that exciting but Bellamy loves it. He, generally, likes his students even if some have been a little challenging over the years.

With all the great things going on at the school, sometimes he forgets that at its base it’s still part of the education system. It’s still driven by money and revenue and praise from the community. And sometimes that means money saving decisions he doesn't agree with.

“Picture day is next week,” Jaha says on Monday during the mandatory staff meeting. “The company we used last year will set up Tuesday morning and be here through Wednesday.”

Bellamy looks around the room before saying, “Wasn't the guy last year...inexperienced?”

Principle Jaha gives him a confused look, as if wondering what this statement has to do with anything.

“I just mean,” Bellamy went on, sitting up a little straighter, “a lot of my kids didn't find him... friendly. He wouldn't tell them when he was going to actually take the picture so a lot of them ended up looking scared or not even paying attention in their photos.”

Jaha shuffled through his papers, clearly ready to move on, “The company is giving us a discount for using them again, Mr. Blake. Besides, I don't think the kids will really care, it's more for the parents anyway.”

“But-”

“You'll all receive the schedule with your assigned picture times by the end of the day,”Jaha continued to the room, used to these types of outbursts by now. “Next on the agenda we have…” and the meeting moved on to other topics as Bellamy slumped back in his chair with a frown.

Unfortunately, it’s apparently still bothering him later that night when he's having dinner at Octavia’s.

“He claims it's for the parents but come on, how many parents want pictures of their kids looking traumatized?” He's saying to her, gesturing wildly with his fork.

Octavia frowns and wipes at some sauce that had flung onto the table. They try to get together every other week for dinner to catch up although Octavia insists that if he ever logged into his Facebook account he would already know what was going on with her. He stands by his claim that the face to face is better. Even if he is too worked up to actually listen.

“Probably not-”

“And, I mean yeah,” He continues, “I get that in the long run the kids probably don't care about elementary school photos but still, shouldn't they at least have a little bit of fun with it?”

“I think-”

“Nobody else dares to speak up in those meetings but I know other teachers would agree with me,” he heaves a frustrated sigh as he reaches for his beer.

“Why don't you hire another photographer?” Octavia says quickly while he's taking a drink.

“The school won’t listen,” he sighs as he rubs his thumb along the edges of the bottle’s label, picking at it a little. “Plus I think a deposit has already been made so,” he shrugs.

“Yeah but you could hire someone,” she says and now she’s gesturing with her fork though not enough to fling any food.

Bellamy pauses, waiting her out. When she doesn’t say more he just gives her a look, “You do realize we're talking about photos for elementary school kids. As in, I am an Elementary school teacher. I can’t afford something like that.”

“I know the perfect person!” she goes on, smiling to herself as if he hadn't said anything. “One of my parents; her kid is in my karate class on Thursdays, I bet she would do it.”

“O, I can't just hire a stranger-”

“She's not a stranger! I mean not technically,” she shrugs, “I'll probably see her this week, actually.”

He sighs again, “It's fine, O. Maybe I can just... stand behind the photographer and wave a stuffed bear around or make silly faces or something. That still gets kids to smile, right?”

She snorts, “Oh yeah, cause every seven year old wants to be treated like they're two.”

To be honest, Bellamy sort of forgot about the whole conversation with Octavia until he receives a phone call later that week on Thursday when he's working on lesson plans. He doesn't recognize the number but he pretty much has this constant fear that somebody could need him and are calling from the first phone they can get their hands on so he answers it.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Blake?”

“Um, yes?”

“Your sister gave me your number? She said you wanted to hire me to take pictures of your kids?”

Bellamy stops tapping his pen and sits up straighter once it clicks, “You’re the photographer.”

“Clarke Griffin, yeah.”

He rubs at his eyes, dislodging his glasses. “Sorry about O, she really didn’t-”

Clarke cuts him off, deliberate, “She explained the situation and I think it’s a great idea.”

He pauses, “Really?”

“Really,” she says simply. “Why don't you come by my studio tomorrow? After you get off?” she suggests, “See my work?”

Bellamy thinks it over but he really doesn't have anything to lose. It's not like he's agreed to higher her. Checking out her studio doesn't mean he's agreeing to pay her.

“Ok, sure. I’m on bus duty but I can leave school at 4.”

So after school on Friday Bellamy makes his way to “Historic” Downtown Arkadia. He finds Polaris easily enough and parks on the street out front. It’s a little storefront but it’s right off the main strip through downtown so she must get good business to be able to afford such a prime location.

There’s no door chime when he walks into the waiting room but there is a desk and a wall behind it that he assumes is to separate waiting room from studio space. There’s a young girl sitting at the desk, leaning over a textbook and scribbling notes in a binder. Bellamy would guess her to be somewhere around 10 or 12.

“Hi,” he greets her with a smile. “I have an appointment with Ms. Griffin?”

The girl looks up at him with a critical eye, giving him a once over. “The way Octavia talks about you I thought you'd look way older,” she says, still staring at him warily.

He blinks a few times, unsure of what to say but is luckily saved by the woman coming around from the studio side.

“Mr. Blake?”

“Bellamy, hi,” he shakes her hand. She’s cute, younger than she sounds on the phone. “And you're Clarke?”

“That's me,” she says with a smile. “And this is Madi.”

“We just met. Sort of,” he says a little awkward.

“Uh-oh, I know that can't be a good thing,” she throws a teasing glance at her daughter who shrugs and goes back to her book. Clarke turns around and waves him on, “Come on back.”

Madi glances back up and he gives her an awkward wave as he follows.

Clarke walks him through the space which has various different scenes and equipment set up on either side against the walls. They keep heading toward the back where she opens a door to an office. One wall is a floor to ceiling bookshelf filled with what look like binders of various colors.

She starts pulling some out, seemingly at random, and lays them on the small conference table he assumes she uses to meet with clients.

“Go ahead, have a look,” she gestures and takes a seat.

He sits down in the chair next to her and flips open the one on top and can't help but smile. The picture is of a little girl, maybe around five or six, dressed in warrior clothing as she shoulders a sword and stands next to a miniature horse.

“Now to be completely fair, I didn’t provide the horse,” Clarke mock whispers which makes him chuckle.

Bellamy flips to another one and it’s of an older boy dressed like Clark Kent with a Superman shirt under his button up and big hipster glasses.

“Not all of them are so fanciful, I promise,” she taps another portfolio and flips it open at random, “I’ve got doctors, astronauts, hell even a lawyer. And of course general family photos. But I do like to work with props. If the kids are up for it, of course”

He’s still flipping through the books but glances up at her over his glasses, “No these are great. I know some of my kids would love to do something like this.”

“That’s what Octavia said you wanted to hire me for,” she nodded, all business, “To take photos of your kids?”

“Technically not my kids but my class. I'm a teacher.”

Her lips twitch on what he thinks is a smile, “What grade?”

“Second.”

She does smile this time, “Cute.”

“Only some of the time,” he smirks, “How old is your daughter?”

“Twelve.”

He looks at her, doing some calculations in his head. He’d place her at around Octavia’s age which is a little young to be the mother of a twelve year old. He can tell by the look in her eyes that she can sense his next question. Probably one she gets all the time. So he doesn't ask it.

“O was terrible at that age.”

Clarke blinks, the statement throwing her off but only for a second. She replies with a smirk of her own “Why do you think I enrolled her in karate?”

He laughs at that, “Smart.”

“So what do you say Bellamy?” she asks, getting them back on track.

He glances at all of the open portfolios, at all of the smiling faces looking back at him and sighs. “Sorry, but I really don’t think I can afford you. Your work is amazing though.” He makes to stand up and she speaks again.

“What if we make a deal?”

“I don’t want charity,” he says a little too quickly.

She snorts, “Not that kind of deal. You think my work is good?” When he gives her a confused nod she continues, “Then how about this; you pay me a deposit, I’ll come to your school and take pictures of your class. I bet you that parents buy more of my prints than they do of the official school pictures. If they do then you get your deposit back.”

He’s still confused, “What do you get out of it?”

“Publicity for one,” she tosses her blonde curls over her shoulder, “Never turn that down. Plus I think I would win and could make a killing off your parents.”

“Uh-huh. And what if more parents buy the official school photos?”

“Then you’re only out the deposit,” she shrugs, “But the kids get to have fun with their pictures.”

He thinks it over and glances back at the photos on the table. He did his research on her, knows what she would charge for a deposit. It’s still steep but... It would be something fun to do for his kids if anything. And he does genuinely think that she’s really good.

He sticks out his hand with a smirk, “Ok, deal.”

She slips her hand in his, “Deal,” and adds with a saccharine smile, “And, again to be completely fair, I always win.”

The school’s official picture day comes and goes and to no surprise from Bellamy the story he hears from most of his kids is that they didn’t enjoy the experience. One student even told him that the photographer said their smile was too big! Which of course causes him to go into this whole underground, black market photography thing with extra vigor.

He’s been texting Clarke since they met under the pretense of organizing their “event” but somehow it’s devolved into him complaining about how his administration and faculty handle other school situations. It started with the school pictures thing and sort of expanded to other things that get on his nerves. He’d be embarrassed about it but she seems to be enjoying his grumblings.

For the week after the one with the school’s official picture days, Bellamy schedules his lessons around a day and time that Clarke can be there. He even signs up to have a teacher's aide that day to help wrangle the kids.

Clarke arrives a little after 7:30 am, following Maya, one of the teaching assistants, into his classroom. She's got a large thermos of what he assumes is coffee and a cart full of equipment.

“So, career day?” She says by way of a greeting, taping at her visitor’s badge.

He just shrugs, “I had to tell the front desk something to let you in.”

She hums and takes a sip of her coffee.

Maya and Bellamy move some of the tables out of the way so Clarke can set up a studio space in the back on the room. She’s handing him a backdrop to hang when Maya reaches for what looks like a children’s toy chest on the bottom of her cart.

“What’s this?”

Clarke replies with a smirk, “I did warn Mr. Blake that I like working with props.”

The kids start filing in after that. He had told them throughout the week that they’d be having a visitor but they seem too distracted by the set up to pay Clarke any attention.

“Mr. Blake?” one of the girls asks as the rest of the students make their way to their now rearranged desks. “Didn’t we have picture day last week?”

“This is going to be like a second picture day,” he explains. “And Ms. Griffin is also going to explain a little of what she does,” he glances over at her and she, thankfully, doesn’t seem phased. She actually looks like she was already gearing up for a little show and tell. Which he’s grateful for. He does need to try and keep up the career day pretense in case any of his students are questioned.

Ultimately though, he didn’t need to worry. The kids love all of it. Clarke actually does make it interesting as she shows of some of the different settings on her camera and things you can do with lighting. She even lets them take a few pictures; as long as the camera stays on its tripod of course.

Once they switch gears, however, Clarke gets down to business. Bellamy and Maya open up the toy chest and the kids are totally enraptured by the box of props. A few dibs are called and Bellamy has to remind them that they’re doing this one at a time and can share.

There are more than a few Wonder Womans and other superheroes that they can piece together but some kids do go for firefighters and police officers and such. One kid actually runs over to the animal station in Bellamy’s room and grabs a toy horse so he can be a cowboy. Clarke catches his eye and they can’t help but share a laugh.

Bellamy would like to say that a smile does not spread across his face when he receives a phone call from Clarke over the weekend but then he’d be lying.

“Hey!” she greets and seems as happy to be talking to him as he does to her. “I’m at the studio. I've got a few of your photos edited. Want to come over and check them out? Tell me if I should change anything?”

He doesn’t think she needs anyone to tell her how she’s doing but he’s not going to say no to seeing her. “Uh sure,” he glances at the time, “I'll bring dinner.”

“Thai sounds great. See you soon!”

She texts him what she wants and he picks up the food on the way. She said she’d leave the backdoor open for him so he drives around to the back and lets himself in.

Clarke’s sitting at her desk; eyes squinted at her computer so she doesn’t notice him until he knocks on the doorframe.

“Thank god. I’m starving,” she says as she stands to stretch. She’s wearing a skirt and Bellamy tries not to be distracted by her legs and her, well, everything. He busies himself instead with taking the containers out of the to-go bag and setting them out on her conference table.

“Working hard?” Jesus he sounds so lame.

“Just catching up on some e-mails. Booking some other appointments,” she shrugs. He starts to open the containers and she interrupts him, “Let’s do business first.”

He looks up at her, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Come look at the pictures first and then we’ll eat,” she gestures for him to come sit at her desk.

He does what she asks and Clarke stands behind him, leaning over so she can drive. He tries not to get caught up in how close she is.

She pulls up the first photo and immediately he can’t help the grin that takes over his face, much like his reaction to seeing her other work. Except this is a kid he knows so the happiness feels mixed with a sort of giddiness. His kids are definitely going to love these.

“I’m going to take your silence as a good thing,” she sounds smug and honestly she should be. She clicks over to another photo and Bellamy laughs. “Yeah, this was probably my favorite so far.”

“These are amazing Clarke,” he turns so he can look at her. She’s still standing close as he looks into her eyes, “Seriously. These are great; the kids are going to love them.”

They stare at each other for a minute before she stands up and clears her throat. Immediately Bellamy feels like he crossed some kind of line but then she speaks.

“So what if we alter our deal a bit?” she asks and he thinks he sees a blush creeping onto her cheeks.

“Alter it?”

“If I sell more pictures than the other photographer and you get your money back, you have to use some of that money to take me on a date.”

Bellamy’s a little speechless and ok she’s definitely blushing but then he laughs and she starts to frown.

“Sorry,” he says once he’s composed himself. “But I did kind of already buy you dinner tonight,” he gestures at the table of Thai food. “So maybe we could call this a date? I’d be pissed if I lost because of my fucking parents.”

She laughs then and takes a step towards him, hands going around his neck while his find their way to her hips.

“I already told you, I always win,” she says before she leans up to kiss him.

In the end Clarke does win the bet. Parents do buy more of her photos than they do of the ones from the school’s official picture day. She rubs it in his face of course but Bellamy can't say he minds.

He hires her to do it again for his class the next year and then the year after that the school hires Clarke outright to do all of the photos. She can’t do the costumes and can only use approved props but at least she’s better with the kids than any of the previous photographers the school has had.

“You don’t tell them their smile is too big,” Bellamy tells her when it’s time for his class to have pictures taken and he’s just waiting behind her.

She snorts because of course she remembers. “Well if that’s the only thing that makes me a good photographer…”

He kisses her on the cheek; they are at work after all so some professionalism must be displayed. Though it is very hard.

“How many parents have made appointments at the studio?”

She grins as she snaps another photo, “I’m booked for the next two weeks.”

He wants to kiss her again but reigns it in. “Which conveniently puts you out of helping me unpack.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says before turning her attention to the kid on the stool. She directs them and takes a few shots and then continues to Bellamy, “Besides, that’s what Madi’s for.”

Bellamy just rolls his eyes but again he can’t say he minds.

#no one cares ashleigh #bellarke fanfiction #bffnet #my fanfiction #i'm going to post this and run away because omg #i don't think i did this justice but it was still fun #hope you like it!#also apparently my standard time to post fic is after midnight

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bisexualpirateheart · 7 years

Note

44 for abigail and eleanor? :D

(Okay, so Eleanor doesn’t die and Abigail returns to Nassau and this is what happens next. Thanks for the prompt!

“ I’m going tokeep you safe. ”

Eleanor’s head ached. She laid in darkness, aware that with every moment she drifted closer and closer to the unfathomable depths, and there was anappeal of it, the never-ending peace of death, the calmness waiting there. It wouldbe easy to accept it. This was her fate, her time was done and she could restnow. She wanted to rest. Some part of her thought this would be fine. But another,a restless, unbearable, still yearning part of her said no.

She stirred, aware she was lying on the ground, aware thatthey had left her there, thinking she was dead when they took Madi away, thatthe wound had been enough to finish her.

But she was not dead. She hurt toomuch for that.

And so she forced herself to crawl across the dirt towardsthe long grass where, biting back curses as she did, untilshe had reached the grass and was safely hidden there. Blood still eked from the wound. Doggedly, Eleanortore strips from her petticoat to wind round her body, staunching the flow. It wouldn’t solve the problem, but it woulddo for now.

The child would be lost. She knew that already. While shemourned its loss, she did not mourn its lack of existence. Now there would notbe another child left to rot alone on an island too harsh for it. She would never have to choose between her child and something else.

She laid there, wanting, oh god, she wanted to be away from here. The stench of smoke was inescapable, and her throat was dry, and her fingers were covered in blood from binding her wound.

Her head throbbed and her side ached and she lay there inthe grass, aware of the futility of trying to survive. What did she have tolive for now? She did not want to be what she had previously survived as. She didnot want to be the wife of a man who would do this, and as much as she didn’twant to believe it, she knew in her heart of hearts, that he sent those fuckingsoldiers.

She faded in and out of consciousness. At one point shedreamt she heard Flint’s voice, and shethought to call out to him. Her throat was too dry, she couldn’t call to him evenin a dream. The voice faded and she was alone.

Night came at last, and it seemed an eternity that she had laidthere, and at some point, Eleanor thought, this is ridiculous. It shouldn’ttake this long, which meant she couldn’t be dying. Not yet. Not yet, beat therefrain of her heart.

Not fucking yet.

* * *

The next time she woke, she was lying in a soft bed, in a small room with plain white walls that shedidn’t recognize. There was a nun standing beside her, watching her with kind eyes.

“Where am I?” She rasped.

“Lie still my dear.” The nun said gently. “You’ve beenthrough a good deal.”

You don’t know the half of it, Eleanor thought.

“Just lie still and try to rest.” The nun said. “I’ll find someoneto sit with you.” She paused. “Do you know your name, my dear?”

She didn’t know her. And in that moment Eleanor knew thiswas the gift she had been given. She just didn’t know what to do with it yet.

“Emma.” She murmured. “My name is Emma.”

The nun petted her cheek and walked away.

Eleanor wanted to stay awake but sleep took her again, andshe didn’t wake until she heard a soft bitten-off sound, like someone trying not to cry out in surprise.

She opened her eyes and saw a young woman standing in frontof her.

Not just any woman, but the young woman who had been to thesolution or supposed solution to so many problems, the reason she had betrayedCharles, the one she had helped escape…

“You’re…” Eleanor licked her dry lips. “Ab…”

Abigail stepped forward. “Shhhhh.” She laid her hand onEleanor’s forehead. “You’re feverish.”

It was certainly possible, it sounded like a warning to besilent, so Eleanor did not call her by her name. Instead she watched Abigail asshe poured her some water.

Abigail helped her drink and only once she had turned to set the glass back on the table, did Eleanor speak again.

“You know me.”

Abigail gave a small nod.

“How did you come to be here?”

“I could ask you the same question.” Abigail returned.

“I haven’t the faintest idea.” Eleanor sighed.

“They said your name was Emma.” Abigail eyed her curiously.

Eleanor sighed. “It was the first name I thought of. It belonged to my mother. I….”

“You don’t have to tell me.” Abigail said quietly. “But ifthere’s anyone you don’t want to know you’re here…or anyone you wanted to betold…”

Who was safe? Who could be trusted?

“No one.” Eleanor whispered. “I don’t want anyone to know I’mhere.” It wasn’t safe. She didn’t voice that thought aloud, but it was there in the room between them.

“Very well.” Abigail said. “I’ll keep you safe.”

It sounded like such a strong promise from such a fragilelooking girl, but Eleanor supposed she had probably underestimated her, as sheherself had been underestimated when she was younger, at that age, at every age. Aprecious few had ever truly seen her, and known her worth.

“I need to go, but I’ll be back later.”

Eleanor caught her hand and Abigail looked down, startled.

“If I need you, who do I ask for?”

A small smile appeared on her lips. “Amelia.” She squeezedEleanor’s hand. “Ask for Amelia.”

* * *

The days passed. Slowly. There was no news. This side of theisland was isolated from the other side. Eleanor had never bothered to learnabout the small Catholic settlement remaining there and now she had no one toblame for that loss of knowledge but herself.

She learned that a farmer had brought her to the abbey. He found her in the grass, and brought her, along with other survivors of the Spanish attack, there to be tended. It was chance, and kindness and a twist of fate that he had seen her, and Eleanor didn’t know what to make of her fate having hinged on such a thing as slim as that.

Every day Abigail came to sit beside her. Sometimes she wouldread to Eleanor and Eleanor would lie there, listening to the sound of hervoice. It was peaceful in a way she hadn’t expected it to be. Even as shewanted to be gone away from the island, away from here, there was a peacefulnesshere in this room with the young woman reading beside her.

Eventually Abigail would go, never without a touch toEleanor’s hand, or a palm across her brow.

“The fever’s gone.” She told Eleanor once. “That’s good.”

Eleanor made no answer. The fever was gone but the restlessnessremained. Where was she to go? Who could she turn now that she had left herpast life behind her? There was no one.

* * *

“How did you come to be here?” Eleanor asked when she waswell enough to sit up.

The pain in her side had subsided. The nuns had stitched upthe wound. They bathed it every morning, put a fresh bandage on it. There wouldbe a scar, but she would live. They had confirmed the loss of the child, and she had accepted the news with stoic eyes and pressed lips. There would be no grief before them. Only later had she let herself weep.

Abigail looked out the window, her face a shadow in profile.“I left my father’s house and I took passage on a ship.”

“And you came back here?”

The question in Eleanor’s voice was right there. The unspokenwhy. Why would you choose this place if you had escaped it? Why would you dothat?

“I had only seen a very little of Nassau, but the peoplehere…” She turned to look at Eleanor, her eyes clear and bright. “I had seenenough of the people to know they were more honest, in their desires, in theirdeeds, in their simple every-day-lives, and I wanted to be like that. I wantedthat. I want that honesty, in others, and in myself.”

“So you’re going to be a nun?” Eleanor couldn’t explain whythe thought of that made her hands tighten and her jaw lock.

Abigail’s laugh caught her off-guard. “No.” She said,smiling. “I’m not going to become a nun. They simply offered me a place and Itook it.”

“Oh.” Eleanor said, and then, slightly more softly. “I’mglad.”

Abigail gave her a sideways glance under her eyelashes andit made Eleanor’s pulse leap in her skin.

* * *

One night she started crying. She had dreamed, and thoughthe dream itself eluded her, the memory of the dream remained when she woke,tears in her eyes, on her cheeks, and she couldn’t stop. She turned her face,sobbing into her pillow, unable to keep it back not now that it had been unleashed.

A candle lit up the dark and there was Abigail, standing in the doorway in her nightdress, coming to comfort her.

“It’s all right, shhh. It’s all right.” She set down thecandle and through her tears, Eleanor watched the way the candlelight danced onher cheekbones. Abigail drew back the covers and slipped in beside her, pullingthem back over the both of them.

She put her arms around Eleanor, drawing her close. “Shhh,Eleanor, shhhh.”

It was her own name on Abigail’s lips, and Eleanor was starvedto hear it. She leaned her head againstAbigail’s, closing her eyes.

“It’s all right.” Abigail whispered. “You can cry if youwant, it’s all right.” Her fingers stroked Eleanor’s back comfortingly, and shekissed her hair, and Eleanor let herself feel safe there in her arms.

* * *

In the morning Abigail was still there and Eleanor wished itwere a different occasion, a different morning elsewhere, on a differentisland, in a different world. But for once not a different person. Not today.

She closed her eyes and lay there, letting the moment exista little longer just as it was.

* * *

The day came when Eleanor could stand, a little shakily, butstand nevertheless. She wore a borrowed dress and her hair in a braid, and sheknew the day was coming soon that she would have to leave.

* * *

“I’m leaving the island.” Abigail told her finally. “There’sa settlement in Georgia that I’ve heard of. I think it would be a good place togoand make a life of my own. A fresh start.”

“Oh.” Eleanor said. Somehow she had thought she would haveto be the one to leave, to make the farewells. She hadn’t thought Abigail wouldleave first.

“You could come with me.” Abigail said slowly. “We could make that start together.”

“I don’t have any money.” Eleanor said when what she wantedto say was, ‘Yes. Let us leave at once, before I have a chance to change my mind. Before something catches us and keeps us here.’

“It’s all right.” Abigail said quietly. “I have money. Enoughfor both of us to get passage on a ship.”

At Eleanor’s questioning look, she smiled. “Let’s just say, Ididn’t leave my father’s house empty-handed.”

* * *

The night before they were to set sail, Eleanor sat out onthe porch of the settlement, looking at the dark of the island, the stars shining high overthe treetops and the wind whispering low in the grass, like a chorus of ghosts.

Her heart felt ragged and torn and exhausted. How could sheleave this place? How could she run now? How could she go back? How could shedo anything?

If she had lain there in the grass, if she had stayed there anddied and let her bones rest, she wouldn’t have to think about any of thisanymore. She’d be done with this life.

But she hadn’t done that. She had survived.

She anticipated Abigail’s step in the doorway before sheactually heard it.

“If you’ve changed your mind, you can tell me.” Abigailsaid. “If you want to stay, it’s all right.”

Eleanor turned and looked at her. Standing there in the dark in hernightdress, that nightdress that Eleanor had dreamed of since the night Abigailheld her, Abigail was a candle in the darkness herself. A bright possibility in a dark unknowable future.

“I don’t know what I want.” Eleanor said finally. “There areso many things that I’ve wanted, and one by one, I’ve let them slip out of my fingers, likegrains of sand. I can never…put it all back together, not like it was. But I don’tknow that I want to. I don’t know a lot of things.” Her mouth quirked faintlyin weariness. “But I know that I want that fresh start.” She looked at Abigail. “I want that with you.”

“Good.” Abigail murmured. She pulled her shawl closer aroundher shoulders and turned to go back inside.

Eleanor let her. She wanted this last night to say her farewellsto the island so she sat there, watching the night fade, and the dawn come upover the trees.

* * *

The next morning they stood at the railing together as the anchor was weighed.

Eleanor felt her heart catch in her throat as the shipstarted to move. How was she supposed to know what to do here? Her heart hadsurvived so much, and lost so much, yet it felt almost free now, standing there and watching theisland disappear. Could it ever be free of Nassau? Could she? Eleanor wasn’t sure.

But today she thought the future might hold more than shehad previously imagined, and for the first time she could see thepossibilities. It would be hard, it was always hard pulling yourself up andstarting over, but she had done it before, and she could do it again, and just maybe this time she wouldn’t have to do italone.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and said, farewell, to those golden sands, and letit out again. Farewell.

Abigail gave her a quick look and then she smiled. Shereached over and placed her hand over Eleanor’s.

Eleanor returned her smile, and together, they stood there,hand in hand, watching until the island was out of sight at last.

#buildarocketboys #black sails fic prompts #black sails fic #eleanor guthrie/abigail ashe #eleanor guthrie #abigail ashe

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vowel-in-thug · 7 years

Note

orange verse silverflint "can i open my eyes yet?"

Allie, my love, I’m so glad I could answer this question, today of all days.

Actually you know I’ve been feeling like hell for the last few days, sick and the gray January weather and today bringing out the end times, etc etc, not to mention the closer we get to season 4, the more anxious I get.

So it was nice to retreat back into my orange world again.

set after st. augustine is that way. WARNING: gratuitous domesticity. Also this got long D: my streak of writing short things ended after two fics

"can i open my eyes yet?"

Flint was headed out into the grove at dawn when Señor Fernandez rides up around the side of the house. Flint tensed. All he had on him was a basket and a piece of hard bread, nothing to cause any real damage. It was the middle of summer, and he was already sweating through his shirt.

Silver had been up a moment ago, but once he ate a bit of breakfast with Flint, he went back to dozing in the bedroom. The humidity of August made him act as drowsy and irritating as a pregnant cat.

“Hola, Santi,” said Fernandez.

Flint winced. Silver had started calling him that at the taberna and now everyone did it. As far as he could remember, Fernandez had never been to Flint’s orange grove. “What can I do for you, sir?”

Fernandez looked uncomfortable up on his horse. He shifted idly, swatting at a mosquito on his neck. He glanced around for a moment, and Flint realized he was searching for Silver.

“I promised Lua I would come by,” Fernandez started. “Last night, after you two left for home, a man came in. A stranger. English. He was looking for someone he couldn’t name. A man with one leg.”

Flint gripped his bread loaf tightly. He said, somewhat incorrectly, “Lots of men have only one leg.”

“You’re right,” Fernandez agreed quickly. But then he added, “The rest of his description, though. Sounded a lot like your cousin.”

“And what did anyone tell this stranger?” He tried hard to keep his voice sounding like Santiago Quijuana and not Captain Flint.

“Nothing,” said Fernandez. “But I doubt we were the only people he asked.”

Flint set down his basket, teeth clenched. “What did this man look like?”

“Rough,” he said. “Strange.” Which was about as much detail as Flint would get.

“My cousin was a seafarer,” said Flint. “You all know this. He dealt with all sorts of people. Even so despicable as an Englishman. I’ll speak to him about it when he wakes.”

Fernandez nodded. “I promised Lua I would tell you,” he said again.

He was about to ride off when Flint called out to him.

“The stranger,” Flint said. “Was he alone?”

A curious look passed over Fernandez’s face. “No,” he said. “As a matter of fact, he wasn’t. “He had two women with him.”

Flint dug up the buried treasure that morning instead of picking oranges. Just in case.

He finished hiding it in the cellar beneath the house. He went in through the back door to see if Silver was up, and he heard him talking in the front room. It wasn’t unusual. Silver often spoke to the cats, as well as to himself. It had started as a habit to annoy Flint, but now he did seemed to do it all the time, narrating each step in his recipes in the kitchen at work, chatting with objects he used and giving them names (his reserved teacup was named Madi, his knife Betsy). Flint wasn’t concerned about it -- Silver just needed stories to tell.

But then Flint heard a reply -- a woman’s voice, out on the front porch.

He made his way swiftly and silently through his home, but hung back in the shadows. Silver was standing outside, the front door open for the cats to roam in and out freely. Flint could see his knuckles white and livid on his crutch.

“When I said I owed you a favor,” Silver said, sounding incredulous, “this wasn’t what I fucking meant.”

“Well, you should have specified,” said a man’s voice. One Flint, after a moment, recognized.

“Obviously,” said Silver, “I’d thought you’d want something normal, like for me to kill someone. And I honestly thought you were dead by now.”

“You aren’t the only one who can stage a dramatic and wildly inaccurate demise,” said the man.

And there was really no better opening. So Flint chose that moment to step onto the porch.

“No, he isn’t,” he said.

It felt good. Despite the fact that Flint stood there, wearing a sunhat, a loose shirt, and no shoes, Jack Rackham and Anne Bonny still let out audible gasps and drew their guns, while Max swore in French and retreated behind the other two.

“What the fuck--” Anne stared.

“My thoughts exactly,” said Flint. “What the fuck are you doing on my property?”

Jack swallowed visibly, and needed a moment to collect himself before speaking. They were all looking back and forth between Flint and Silver, and Flint figured a hundred answers were probably presenting themselves, just by how close they stood.

“We were looking for him,” Jack said. “He owes us a debt.”

Flint found he didn’t give a fuck what Silver might have needed to owe what was left of the Ranger crew. They had an understanding now -- the only thing in their past they cared about anymore was who topped the night before so they could switch the following night. “How did you find us?”

“That one --” Anne said, pointing at Silver, “left behind a trail of bodies to follow.”

“If you knew what to look for,” Jack interjected. “It wasn’t easy.”

“Now, hang on,” Silver protested. But then all he said was, “How many constitutes a ‘trail?’”

“Ten,” said Max.

Silver appeared to be thinking about it. “...Who was the tenth?”

Flint rolled his eyes. “What the fuck do you want him for?”

Jack smiled. He took a step forward, but at Flint’s glare he didn’t step onto the porch. “We’re of a similar mind, Flint,” he said. “We are also looking for a way out of the life.”

“Well, you can’t stay here.”

“Obviously,” said Max, looking up at their small house and not completely hiding her distaste. “We have one more final prize in our grasp, to secure all of our futures forever.”

The dread Flint had felt all morning, since seeing Senor Fernandez ride up, increased tenfold. He felt ill, acid rolling around his stomach. His heart beat at an irregular and sickly rhythm as he spat out, “He’s not going with you.”

He felt Silver look at him, but he didn’t give a shit. Silver could be as mad at him as he fucking liked, as long as he was mad here.

“Of course he’s not coming,” said Jack.

“That’s not the favor,” Silver added tiredly.

Someone cried out. At first, Flint thought it was one of the cats, until he saw Anne look down, cupping the front of her jacket, which he could tell now was bulging just so, and hush soothingly. An entirely un-Anne Bonny expression was on her face.

“What the fuck is this,” Flint said.

“That,” said Silver, “is the favor.”

As Flint continued to stare, Anne holstered her gun finally to shift aside a pale green blanket. Max crowded close to Anne’ side, stroking the fussy baby’s cheek softly, murmuring to both mother and child.

Jack drew himself up as he glared at Flint and Silver. He looked proud, and also embarrassed by his pride.

“The prize is guaranteed,” he said, “and safe to retrieve. But our plan requires all three of us to get it.”

“Your plan requires Max, too?” Silver asked.

“All plans require me, John Silver,” said Max. “Or have you forgotten so much?”

Silver looked pissed, snarling in a way Flint hadn’t seen since before he’d died. But Silver didn’t say anything in response, fist tightening on his crutch like he wanted to do something instead.

“We should only be gone three weeks,” said Jack. “A month at the outmost. Time is a factor, with this prize.”

They were being deliberately vague, Flint knew, still seeing them as formidable opponents, even though the only prizes Silver won these days were at his weekly poker nights, where he only cheated sometimes, and Flint still wasn’t wearing shoes.

“A month,” he said.

Jack shifted awkwardly. “We obviously didn’t know we’d be asking you, too. I must admit, if it helps, that we are quite desperate in this endeavor. Since Annie’s birth, our desire for security has grown immeasurably.”

“Annie?”

“Anne the Second,” said Anne, then added, “I didn’t fuckin’ name her.”

Jack and Max said nothing, but both looked pleased with themselves.

“And you came here, to ask Silver to watch over your infant daughter for a month.” Flint pointed. “Silver?”

“Like I said, we were desperate.”

“And he’s smart enough to know what I’d do to him if she even so much as fucking burps wrong,” Anne threw in.

Flint had thought it would take him a couple weeks to retrieve the Urca de Lima, once he’d gotten the page. A couple weeks, and then his life would be freedom and security away from the sea. Less than a year later, he’d been faking his death after waging a war against the entire British government. The moment one uttered the words “final prize”, they were tempting fate, and he knew fate had a way of finding the softest parts of one’s self, and digging its teeth in hard. He knew a few weeks was not always a few weeks.

But he knew, too, that second chances were possible. Third and fourth ones, too. He knew the life they were aiming for wasn’t completely unlikely, either.

“Does she eat oranges?” Flint asked.

Silver turned wordlessly and stomped back into the house.

Max smiled. “She likes bananas. But I’m sure she’ll like oranges just fine.”

Silver didn’t stick around to see the three say goodbye to Annie. Flint, honestly, wished he could have left as well. He could have happily gone his whole life without seeing Anne Bonny with tears in her eyes. They said their endeavor was safe, but that was almost a meaningless concept in this life.

He brought the baby inside the house, setting down the small pack Max gave him, filled with some extra clothes and one or two toys. He looked down at Annie.

She peered up at him, large brown eyes blinking in the sudden shade of the house. She hadn’t yet realized her mother had gone, but Flint figured she would soon.

Silver had disappeared. Sometimes they both needed moments to themselves, and would find areas in the property to hide and deal with their intrusive thoughts. Flint let him be. He knew Silver had a problem with what just happened, and figured he would eventually get over it, or fill Flint in on what was bothering him.

Perhaps he just didn’t like children. But Flint had seen him with the boys at the schoolhouse, and he was great with them. Maybe it was babies, then. Flint knew nothing about Silver’s life before Silver had stolen the page to the Urca gold. Had he younger siblings he’d cared for in his youth?

Had he a child of his own, at one point?

The thought made the coil of dread spring back up through his spine, but it had a different edge to it. Fear of a thing that might have happened long ago. Silver had been a young man, then, but not young enough it wasn’t a possibility.

Perhaps he should have told Jack no. He didn’t, honestly, know what made him say yes. Maybe the idea that they weren’t trying to take Silver away had filled him with such relief.

“Are you going to be a problem here?” Flint asked Annie.

Annie blinked at him and gurgled. But that was not unlike how some of his old crew used to respond to him, and he decided he understood the meaning.

He took her out into the grove. Using an empty barrel and some of her blankets, he propped her up under a tree outside the house. He gave her an orange to play with, and watching her clutch it with chubby fingers and shake it like a rattle made Flint feel -- something.

He picked just enough oranges to give to the schoolboys and the guards at the fort, soothed by Annie’s quiet babbling to her makeshift toy. One of the cats came up to her barrel, and Flint nearly leapt off his ladder to shoo it away, but the cat just sniffed her once. Annie tapped its nose, and the cat curled up next to her and fell asleep.

He made his way back to the house shortly after, Annie in one arm, oranges under the other, and found Silver waiting for him to go to work.

“What the fuck were you thinking, exactly?” Silver asked. He still looked pale and mad. “I’ve been trying to figure it out, and nothing I can think of makes any sense.”

Flint only shrugged. He looked down at her again. She had started dozing in his arms.

“I’ve never held a baby before.” Flint realized it was true as soon as he said it. He’d been an only child, and his grandfather’s friends had been too old to have young children for him to play with. And there weren’t any infants running around the Navy yards, or in the brothels and taverns in towns like Tortuga or Port Royale. He couldn’t remember ever even being this close to someone so young and small.

Silver stared at him, a range of emotion passing through his face, before he sighed heavily. He walked up to Flint and Annie, put one hand on Flint’s neck, the other on Anne’s face.

“You have to support her head more,” he said. “Like this.”

“Can I open my eyes yet?” Lua asked.

“Not yet,” said Silver, sneaking past her with the baby.

“I’m not an idiot,” said Lua, opening her eyes. “I’m not the one that knocked up a scary-looking Englishwoman and then let her leave me with the baby.” She glared at the three of them. “No babies in the kitchen, you know this.”

“I’m not --” Silver stopped, then sighed again. Annie reached up with one fist and tugged hard on his beard, but he didn’t even flinch at it. “I’m not going to raise her. I’m watching her while her mother gets herself settled. No more than a month.”

“You should be marrying her,” said Lua.

Silver let out a strangled laugh. “Oh. No, no thank you,” he said. “Besides, I didn’t even agree to watching her. That was him.”

“Fine. Then you’re the idiot,” she said, pointing to Flint. “And you’re just a bastard.”

Then she said, “Stop walking. No babies in my kitchen! It’s too dangerous.”

“You’re going to fire me?”

“Give me the baby,” she said, taking her quickly but gently from Silver. “You, go cook some food. You, deliver your goods as fast as you can to get back here to look after this mistake you’ve made.”

Flint felt anxious, looking at Annie in Lua’s arms. He knew Anne and Jack would probably feel about as happy at a stranger holding her as Captain Flint, which is to say, not at all. The idea of letting her out of his sight unsettled him.

Lua must have seen it on his face because her face relaxed somewhat. “She’ll be fine with me. I’ve raised babies before. Just hurry back, I have a business to run.”

With one last long look at Silver, and an even longer look at Annie, Flint started to leave.

“Alright, Baby,” Silver said behind him. “You be good for Señora Lua.”

“She has no name yet?”

“Oh. It’s Annie. I think.”

He heard Lua scoff. “That’s an English name. Get to work. Come, Ana. I’ll show you how we stock the bar here.”

Flint sat at his usual table near the kitchen, trying to get Annie to eat some banana. She seemed mostly interested in smearing them on her face while using the spoon as a hammer. She looked happy though.

“And that’s when I happened to glance over and saw your Uncle John trying to protect himself with a meat cleaver,” he was saying quietly so no one would hear. “But your Uncle John was an idiot then and didn’t know how to fight, and he would have likely died had Uncle James not come over to save him.”

Annie rubbed some banana between her fingers and looked at Flint. She held up her messy hands to show him.

“That’s very good,” he told her. “Anyway, Uncle John probably should have died, since he nearly killed the fucking crew with an uncooked pig, and glazed it with so much honey, bees had swarmed the whole damn camp. But fortunately your Uncle James knew how to properly cook a pig, because Uncle James was an adult and not a useless fucking thief like your Uncle John was, and that is how I first taught Uncle John how to cook.”

“Oh my god,” said Silver from behind. “Can you please stop? I can’t deal with this.”

Flint looked over his shoulder. “What?”

Silver came up close so no one could hear. He looked pained, hand flat on his stomach. “I don’t understand what I’m looking at or why I like looking at it. But if you don’t stop doing whatever it is you’re doing, there will be little stopping me from throwing you across this table and trying my fucking hardest to put a baby in you.”

Flint flushed, then glared hard at him. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I’m just saying,” said Silver, brushing Annie’s auburn hair back, causing her to look up at him and gesture with her spoon. “I won’t be held responsible for my actions, and it will be hard to run away from the angry Catholic mob with one leg and a baby.”

It didn’t surprise Flint that Silver chose to get over his problem rather than be up front about it. Still, he asked, “Are you finished being an asshole about this, then?”

“The day I finish being an asshole,” said Silver, “is the day you should check for a pulse. Lua said we can go, by the way.”

Night had only just fallen. People were only just starting to eat dinner. “What? Why?”

Silver made a face. “She said young babies need rest. As do new fathers.”

Flint wondered if that included him, and he couldn’t decide if he wanted it to. He watched Silver take a napkin and wipe down Annie’s face and hands gently, saying, “Baby, I see you’ve inherited your manners from your father, but thankfully it seems you’ve got your mother’s mouth instead.” It was true, she was remarkably silent, for a baby. “A part of me hopes you’ll get Max’s intelligence, but the other part of me then fears for the future if that’s the case.”

“Have you ever done this before?” Flint had to ask. “Acted as a father?”

Silver said nothing, busying himself with cleaning up Annie’s mess from the table. Then he looked at Flint and smiled. “Don’t you remember when I acted as your Quartermaster? I was father to dozens of smelly, thieving, rotten children.”

Flint decided to let it go. Silver wasn’t exactly wrong, either.

Flint brought up an empty crate from the cellar, and used piles of straw and blankets to make a crib for Annie. He found in her pack a knitted doll, already worn and stained, the painted features all but gone, and he added it to her new crib.

When he gets back into the bedroom, Silver was lying on the bed shirtless, his hair loose on the pillow. The baby was asleep on his chest, rising and falling with Silver’s even breathing. Flint leaned in the doorway, needing time to take in the sight. Perhaps this was what Silver meant at the tavern, the fondness and protectiveness and, the most inexplicable, the lust he felt cascading through him. He knew Silver was aware of him standing there, and even though Annie slept, Silver still read aloud from the book he held over his face.

“All beasts are happy, for, when they die, their souls are soon dissolv'd in elements,” Silver said quietly, yet still inflecting with a performance. “But mine must live still to be plagu'd in hell. Curs'd be the parents that engender'd me! No, Faustus, curse thyself, curse Lucifer, that hath depriv'd thee of the joys of heaven.”

“Really?” Flint asked, setting the crate down. “Is that the best my bookshelves have to offer a child?”

“She’ll need to learn sometime,” Silver said, lowering the book. He sat up, hand under Annie to keep her still. “Not my fault the devils in this life are unavoidable.”

Flint hummed. “There are two in this room right now, after all.”

Silver smiled.

Then he said, as Flint leaned down to take the baby from him, “Put her out in the hall.”

Flint gave him a look.

“Leave the door open, then, so we can hear her,” Silver said, rolling his eyes. “You won't even let me touch you when the cats are in the room.”

Flint kissed him softly, one hand cupping the back of Annie’s head to support her just how Silver showed him. “That's because the cats aren't supposed to be in the fucking house.”

“Well, I put them all outside for the night, because of the baby,” Silver said. “I’m afraid we’ll be facing a mutiny from them tomorrow.”

“Is it wrong that the thought of a mutiny makes me almost nostalgic?” Flint asked, placing Annie in her crib, now just outside the room. She snuffled as he set her down on her stomach, tiny fists curling in her sleep in a way that resembled her mother.

“Yes,” said Silver. “Incredibly wrong.”

Flint crawled into the bed, wrapping himself around Silver. Silver’s chest was still warm from where Annie had been sleeping. Sometimes it didn't feel enough, to just kiss Silver, so Flint bit Silver’s bottom lip and sucked it into his mouth, wanting to consume all of him.

Silver tugged Flint’s shirt off, then shook Flint’s hair loose from its tie. He pulled at Flint until he was stretched all the way over him, full weight pressing down. They were sticky without even exerting themselves, the thick humidity of the summer not relenting even after the sun fell away. Silver often complained about the heat, except when they were lying together. Then, it was like Flint was the only thing protecting him from a cold and unforgiving world.

“Why did you agree to do this?” Silver murmured against him. “Why would you take her in?”

Flint looked out in the hallway, where Annie slept on, cooing softly in a dream. “I didn't think I’d ever have another opportunity,” he said. “It's not like I’ll ever have one of my own. I just -- wondered what it would feel like.”

He hadn't pictured a family in years. As a youth, before he’d truly known himself, he thought he’d have a wife and kids the way men were supposed to, and the idea had filled him with a horrible nausea, which he'd attributed to losing his freedom as a single man. With the Hamiltons, later, they would all discuss welcoming children into their home, Flint helping raise them as another parent, like Max was to Annie and Jack. On Nassau, afterwards, soon after they’d arrived, Miranda had brought up the idea of them having a child together, and Flint should have obliged her, knowing keenly of her loneliness and isolation as he sailed without her. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, unwilling at the time to pass on a name that was false and a bloodline that was evil and violent. He hadn't wanted to have anything so human as a family.

He and Silver were a family now. He knew that. He loved that. But still, he’d wanted to know what it felt like, just for a little while, to be slightly bigger than what they were.

“This was a terrible idea,” said Silver.

Flint blinked at him. “Why’s that?”

“Because I can see the look on your face,” said Silver solemnly. “We’re eventually, hopefully, going to have to give that baby back to her parents, and you’re going to devastated. And then I’m going to have to steal you a baby to cheer you up again.”

“You won't have to steal me a baby,” Flint said, frowning.

“Nah,” said Silver. “I’ll do it. But this time we’re letting Lua think it's your illegitimate child.”

Flint kissed him again, pushing him back against the pillows. He didn't want Silver to steal him a baby, but if he did it, Flint didn't know how hard he’d protest.

“Why did you agree to this?” Flint asked, a moment later. “You know, eventually.”

Silver's hands moved low down his back, stroking at the base of his spine. “I have this bad habit of indulging your most insane whims,” he murmured, running his nails lightly over Flint’s skin. “I really need to grow out of that some day.”

Flint pressed one more kiss into Silver’s mouth before inching lower, leaving a wet trail over Silver’s throat and down his chest. He lifted off to say, unlacing Silver’s breeches, “Allow me to indulge you, then, for awhile.”

---

Flint awoke to an empty bed. He stretched, pulling the thin sheet off his lower body. The morning heat was already cruel and overwhelming. The only nice thing about the summer was it required more baths, and more opportunities to bathe Silver.

The crib in the hallway, when he walked by, was also empty.

He found Silver sitting at the table, like always. Silver's hair was knotted high on his head, and Flint watched the beads of sweat drip down his bare back, suddenly desperately thirsty.

Silver had Annie balanced on his lap. In one hand he held Betsy the knife. In the other, he held an orange.

“Here, Baby,” Silver was saying, slicing up the orange “I know you’ll appreciate this trick the schoolboys taught me.” He stuck the piece, rind and all, in his mouth.

Flint was too warm. He itched from too many mosquito bites, and his back ached from age and lugging oranges every day. His chest hair had more than a few grays in it, and in another year or so he knew he would likely need glasses to continue reading at night. He could smell his own sweat and he needed to shave and he felt simultaneously overcome with love and fear, looking at Silver with the baby. He felt human.

Over at the table, Annie looked up at Silver's grinning orange mouth, and laughed.

#black sails #black sails fic #silverflint #st. augustine is that way #hey look it's my suffering #fic prompt madness #i'm still working on these i promise #me: i'm depressed / brain: two men and a baby / me: why / brain: you gotta #karategirl448

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