HAPPY TRANS DAY OF VISIBILITY FROM UR FRIENDLY NEIGHBOURHOOD DEMIGOD!!
Reminder that all of you are valid and real and that no matter what anyone (including you) thinks; you are loved.
Keep on keeping on! 💛
Request: So this was from a prompt list which you can find
here. The prompt was “You’re one hell of a girl” and “You’re one hell of a guy” with a character of my choice.
Warnings: tiny swearing and fluff
Word count: 2,534 words
A/N: Did Sammie actually write a fic that doesn’t involve DOB? Why yes, yes she did :) Thanks to the anon for requesting this and @susybird for proofreading as always! Hope you guys like it! Let me know what you think :)
“Where is she?” Theo barges in through Scott’s house, anger showing on his face.
“Theo, calm down-“ Theo pushes Liam out the way and looks to Scott.
“Don’t ever tell me to calm down. You guys were supposed to be watching her.”
“And we were! Look, we don’t know how she got taken okay? Everything was secure.”
“Yeah, well clearly we have two totally different meanings of ‘secure’ Scott.” Theo runs his fingers through his hair, letting out a big sigh before sitting down.
For @kaitymccoy123, after a rough day. I love you to bits, dear, and I think they lost out, not you. I hope this is decent (banged it out on lunch break, posting quickly. Probably riddled with errors). Also, it’s incredibly difficult to find a good AOS Scotty gif.
“I didn’t get it.”
“Ya what?” Monty’s nose crinkles in a way that you would normally
find adorable. As it is, the entire world seems dampened by the bitter disappointment
that snakes through your chest, and your answering smile is hollow.
“The job. I didn’t get it.” Despite your best efforts, you
feel your voice hitch a little on the words.
“The rat bastards,” he spits, dropping his spanner and
pulling you into his arms, heedless of the fact that you’re in the E deck
corridor for all to see. You smush your nose into the mesh fabric of his red
shirt and let him hold you tight.
“Shh, shh, shh, shh,” he murmurs, more an instinctive litany
of comfort than actual shushing. He rocks you gently back and forth, threading
agile fingers through your dark hair. His skin smells of bay rum aftershave and
something vaguely singed, and it crosses your mind to ask him, later, how the
refit is coming. He presses his lips to your temple and sighs heavily through
his nose. “The silly sods don’t know a good thing when they’ve got it.”
His words send hot tears prickling at the corners of your
eyes. Silly as it is, to cry feels a little like defeat, like one last punch in
the gut. You pull back, biting at your lip and swiping your face in frustration.
Monty catches your hands in his. “My heart,” he says softly,
reaching to thumb away the tear-tracks that stain your cheeks. “I know what I’ve
got right here.” His eyes are dark as he stares at you for a long moment, as if
memorizing your features. You can see, suddenly, that he shares your heartbreak. He
clasps his fingers around the nape of your neck, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead
and fluttering his eyes closed. “I have the very best thing, Kaity. I have you.”