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[skycmontgomery]

[skycmontgomery]

I am dying to see you topless...

then die

[skycmontgomery]

[skycmontgomery]

[skycmontgomery]

[skycmontgomery]

sht-kinmaxh

King laughed shaking his head “Babe ,mrs president you are quite the feisty little one and you sure now how to use that mouth but maybe instead of talking and being nothing but annoying go put that mouth to good use talking and drinking around someone else”He shrugged taking the beer that was handed to him from his friend”Because no body has time for some debby downer I just say words to hea my self talk  bitch” King said starting to walk away 

Struggling to contain a laugh as his last sentence spilled out in the same vein of coherency as a line of Simlish, Skye nonchalantly sucked the drop of gin that had splashed from his chin onto her thumb, shrugging a lone, narrow shoulder without a care. “Feisty one, you are. Nice Will from The Inbetweeners impression. Oh, and King?” Lips still stuck in a perpetually amused smile, Skye stooped to fetch the cup she’d just dropped, straightening once more and pitching her best baseball serve to send it flying for the back of his head. “Call me a bitch again and it’ll be a brick next time. Sorry to break it to you but thinly veiled misogyny won’t compensate for that shrivelled, fettuccine stuffed olive you call a penis. This just in: there’s a mouse in the house and it’s made a base camp in King’s overpriced boxers. Hide your fucking cheese, ladies and gents.”

[skycmontgomery]

svmuelhvyes

“Of course it’s not. I find it quite rude that the birth of an imbecile isn’t already seen as a foul in itself,” brows flit upwards as he reaches for an ice cooler and utilizes tongs to pick out three solid ice cubes to chill his cup. “But until then, I suppose an exception as a makeshift solution could be made for you.” And there it was, that coy smile. Even if it meant that the only thing which had changed about her habitual scowl was the slightest lift to the corners of her lips, he felt he’d finally done something worthy of his time in the god-awful household of Delta Psi. 

It wasn’t long until the cup obstructed his view of immaculately painted lips, which brought his attention over to how Skye tampered with bottles until they sat somehow in an order which Samuel was yet to decipher. It was in their moments alone like these, which the grad student would bring himself to mull over minute details of the captivating brunette before him. The way she’d analyze something as haphazard as half-emptied bottles and still order them as she did most things in her life. It was such particularities in which his mind would find a sliver of light much like a hole poked into a dark curtain, simply prying about until more and more sunlight shone through. “As most things you say out loud. Do you remember the time we kept going back and forth with Benadryl Cabbagepatch’s name? And every time you said one more, it sounded more poetic than the last. How do you do it, Montgomery?” 

Sapphire irises remained unwavering upon honeyed hues. So deceptively warm in color that they could lull him much like a sweet poison waiting to consume him whole. Words couldn’t describe the amount of times he’d pen poems and prose, just to try to get the color of her eyes to sound just right. But there was no capturing the essence of those dewdrop ringlets, and how effortlessly they would knock the wind out of him much like an upper-cut to his chest. “I’d say this was the most eventful my night has been,” a lazy but candid admittance, hand sloshing around clear liquid in his solo cup before mirroring her previous gesture and sipping the contents of his own. “Truth be told, I could watch you scare off Bobs for hours.” 

As cup once again comes into contact with smooth island, Samuel takes a moment to look up at her now — admiring her new seated position. Despite liquor bottles that accompanied her side and dim lightbulb which hung overhead, it was almost as if marble countertop served as a pedestal to cradle the holy figurine of her petite, ivory frame. In that moment, it was almost as if Skye was the only religion he knew, and only God he’d swear by. Another couple seconds of staring too long, before ocean eyes drop to marble surface and bring his momentary revering to a halt. Was he drunk? He couldn’t recall the last time he made so bold a move. His judgment surely wasn’t impaired, but perhaps it was the fact that he had a scapegoat of the excuse to fall back on, this time. 

“Are you trying to make me feel better about my coughing? I can’t believe some girl really out-coughed me. Did she at least moonwalk her way out for her out-of-body experience?” A tentative pause. “Interpretive—?” Chiseled visage once contorted with confusion now morphs into that of humor. Grin becomes a little daring this time around, as he tilts his head back to regard her once more. “You never told me you went camping with Maddy Ziegler.”

“Bendingle Crampleboff’s name is easy to remix. It’s one of the seven wonders of the world, did you know? They got rid of the Taj Mahal to make room. Slurped it up into the space time continuum so it could take a break from existence for a year or seven,” she chimed out easily, dark eyes flitting up towards the dangling ceiling sconce so that she could watch the glass pendants as they trembled under the militant stomp of feet upstairs, light refracting with every thrum of bass like a miniature northern lights show hosted just for her. Honestly, she wasn’t all that consumed in something as mundane as a ceiling bulb fixture, she just felt it necessary to look elsewhere while his eyes drank her in like, well... like that. It was like with a mere glance he knew how to pick through the puzzle pieces she’d shaken out over a table into a deliberate mess and casually piece her together again. If it wasn’t for the fact that a guarded part of her kept at least four segments adamantly clenched inside her fist at all times, he probably would have been able to work out the complete picture in a matter of seconds. It was such a daunting thought that within another skipped beat of her heart she had to wet her plum red lips and take a sip from her cup to compose herself.

“You sound like a total voyeur. Is this your way of admitting you have a Peeping Tom fetish? Honestly, Samuel, that’s way more information than I ever asked for. My ears are wilting like trampled on flowers from the burden,” she rambled on in typically melodramatic fashion, finally meeting his gaze again that may as well have been slicing through her with all the burning intensity of an X-Ray -- the thought alone nearly had the apples of her cheeks tinged pink with it, the idea of a green, illuminated scan dissembling her down to the bare bones of the ivory Dior corset beneath her slip forcing her to give in to a soft swallow. “I guess I know what I’m getting you for your next birthday. A pair of binoculars and one of those hats with rainbow striped umbrellas mounted on top. The bush lurker’s ultimate gift set.” 

“No moon walk. Only a lame crotch thrust, actually. Barely even visible to the naked eye. I had to squint like a hawk hunting a possum to catch it. I only awarded it two stars on the Strictly Come Dancing judge’s panel.” Eyes intently roaming his features, they slid down the ski slope of his nose before performing a soft jump to reach his lips, only dwelling there for a second or so until they were fleeing up towards his cheeks. Then, just as they were about to bounce back up to meet his stare, they stuttered to a halt. Hopping down from her perch without any explanation, Skye took a bold step forwards and reached up to the hollowed slant of his left cheekbone, within half a mind to mimic a gash against her fingertip for how sharp it looked in the kitchen light. “Did you just roll out of bed, Hayes? Honestly. Barbaric. You have an eyelash,” she informed after gently extracting it from the skin there, holding it upright on her index finger as her eyes flit between his to wait for a reaction -- the fact that she would never have bothered to do anything about it if it had been anyone else but him either didn’t register or was hastily repressed inside her head before it could. “This is where you make a wish, right? I’ll have stern words with the guy upstairs to make it come true if you tell me what it is. I promise. Swear on the bible.”

[skycmontgomery]

how does someone become friends with you?

“Christ. Not asking embarrassing questions like these would be a start. Quit suckling on my ankle for sustenance like a gross little barnacle.”

[skycmontgomery]

leviszedler

Levi had been watching from his corner of the room in amusement as Skye absolutely butchered the man in front of her. He felt no need to step in and interrupt, knowing her well enough to expect she’d be able to handle the situation herself. As she approached him, he leaned back against the counter, nodding his head. “Yeah, any plague would do him in,” Levi said, nodding once. “Steroids really fuck with your immune system. A bad flu could take him out. Maybe contaminate his bath towel with influenza?”

“Do him in,” Skye quoted, doing her best to resist a scoff. “You sound like you’re from West Side Story. Do ‘im in, gavnah! Sock ‘im wiv a poynt-ee clog!” Lips drawing back somewhat in a grimace once she realised her impression was barely even intelligible, Skye let out a dramatic sigh and massaged at her temple as if she was trying to dispel an impending migraine from the stress of the ordeal. “Hearing you talk about contaminating a bath towel makes me think you’re going to do something actually barbaric like wiping your ass on it. Not that... your ass has influenza. Although, frankly, I don’t know where you’ve been. It could.” Side eyeing him warily, she took a sip from her drink before fishing inside her purse and lifting out a travel sized bottle of Yves Saint Laurent perfume, index pressing down to send a spritz onto his lapel (and probably, she didn’t care much to notice, his mouth) without warning. “There. No offence but you smelt like a stinky little gremlin. Have you been knitting Edwardian frocks for sewer rats in your spare time? Get it together.”

[skycmontgomery]

charliexkeller

“You did great…” the young girl mumbled as she tried to break the eyes with the sorority president, someone obviously over her level. “I mean… with that guy, I don’t know why with some sweet words they think we will open our legs or something.”

Eyebrows subtly lifting as Charlie appraised her like a show winning race horse at the Grand National, Skye took a sip from her cup and closely studied her over the rim, watching for any telltale quivers of nerves in the other girl’s chin. “Thanks. A high honour. Is this the part where you slap me on the ass and tell me to get back to the stables for a horse shoe fitting after a great race?” Cracking a mandatory smile to indicate that she was joking, Skye flit closer like a hornet to a wilting pink flower, ruby lips pressed to in silence. “I heard him gossiping about you earlier, too, actually,” she lied seamlessly, rolling her eyes as she turned to watch him retreat further into the crowd. “Such an obnoxious swine. I mean, it’s more the audacity of sharing it that bothered me, you know? Something about a heart shaped freckle you have on your inner thigh,” came as her dark eyes darted back to find Charlie’s, intently burning on them to gauge a reaction. “Was he telling a fib?”

[skycmontgomery]

[skycmontgomery]

meridagarcia

Merida couldn’t help but to laugh at the event that unfolded in front of her. She had never witnessed someone shut a guy down so hard, but she was quite content watching it happen – especially to Brad. Lifting her drink in an almost salute to the woman in front of her, “Congrats, he’s gonna have a good bruised ego for the next year at least.” Taking a drink, she slid down from the counter so she could go and stand next to her, “Ooo what kind of plague? One to wipe out people who have no common sense, or just targeting some fuck boys?”

Mocking a curtsy, Skye tipped an imaginary sergeant’s cap as if she was just finishing up serving her country. “I do my bit for the community. Some people shovel bread buns at soup kitchens. I? Exterminate protein shake dependent woodlice.” Washing the words down with a neat mouthful of gin and tonic, Skye narrowed her eyes slightly at the obnoxious kick to the concoction, feeling a little like she’d just taken a drink from a petrol hose. Needless to say, her expression remained seamlessly held in tact -- she was nothing if she wasn’t poised. “One that depletes the population of moon emoji lookalikes. Sad to say that we’d lose you to the war but I guess it’s for a noble cause, right?”

[skycmontgomery]

[skycmontgomery]

[skycmontgomery]

olivcrpierce

witnessing the scene front row should’ve been a lesson for oliver; keep your distance. yet it did the opposite. taking a few steps closer as she finally got rid of the other male, blue irises flickered between her and the bottle in hand. “so the pick up lines don’t work on you,” he started as his arm came to rest against the cool countertop. “what does, babe?” eyebrow raised slightly as he kept a steady gaze on her. against better judgement, he reached a hand out to quickly pluck the bottle of gin from her hands as if he was just wanting to give her more pros for a plague. “or do you get off on the idea of rejecting every person that gets within two feet of you?” oliver added, daring to move one step closer. tilting the bottle of gin back and swallowing a good two shots, he held it back out to her with a smirk on his features. “if so, it’s cute.”

Pressing the tips of her fingers barely a breath above her lips like she had to tether them shut, Skye paused for a long moment as if suddenly overcome with something, eyes slipping shut to embrace the theatrics of the moment. “God, sorry,” she sighed solemnly after brown eyes blinked back open, flashing him a faux apologetic smile and dropping her hand again. “I just had to compose for a second there so I could stop myself from fucking projectile vomiting all over your ugly loafers when you called me babe.” Ignoring that she hadn’t checked whether or not he was, in fact, wearing loafers after all, Skye shot him a pair of daggers so sharp they would have cut through stone. “Doubt you’ll think I’m cute when I’m throwing this gin in your eyes like a priest giving a baby a baptism,” came muttered with clear irritation below her breath, lips instantly quirking up into a falsely polite smile once she’d rudely snatched the gin back and turned to properly eye him. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like you’re Benjamin Buttoning?” she inquired casually, careless to the offence it could cause as she finished fixing her drink. “Like you’re a twelve year old trapped inside an old man’s body. Is that deliberate or just... you know, a genetic thing?” Taking a small sip from her cup, her eyes gleamed with mischievous intent as she blinked up at him. “If so? Sincere condolences.”

[skycmontgomery]

svmuelhvyes

Samuel, who’d overheard the unfortunate pick-up line, barely managed to stifle a chuckle into his emptied solo cup before entering the kitchen and examining proximate liquor bottles. It was safe to say he didn’t trust what had been mixed into the ‘jungle juice’, so concocting a drink more suitable for acquired palette from scratch was perhaps in order. Though an Old-Fashioned remained Samuel’s poison of choice, it’d seemed Delta Psi brothers contrastingly held no regard for supplying orange rind or bitters. Calloused hand reaches for Bacardi in a lazy attempt to settle. Lips purse in search for a soda to make-do with for the night. How freshman of him. He waves off the idea of a chaser, before raising the red cup to his lips. In a scarily timed manner, Skye had already spewed back a retort while clear liquid now sat at the base of his throat. Listen. My great grandmother could do better and guess what, Bob? She’s dead. All signs of discretion had flown out the window as a cough surfaces at her little quip in response. If he hadn’t downed the liquid sooner than he had, Samuel was almost sure an embarrassing Heimlich would’ve proved a dire necessity that evening. It was beyond him how his companion’s colorful comebacks seemed to always catch him off-guard. He’d think he’d be used to them by now, but then again, the Montgomery’s imagination truly knew no bounds. A growing smile tugs at the grad student’s lips to himself that states nothing short of a proud that’s my girl. Not that she was ever his, to begin with. Skye belonged to nobody. Her far-too-familiar exasperated exhale cued head of dirty-blonde hair to tilt in the slightest over his shoulder at her for the first time in that kitchen. An awkward clear of his throat while hand lifts to obstruct pink lips from view. He wasn’t quite sure which he was hiding more — the unwavering grin or his coughing outburst. “Just say the word and I’ll grab my lacrosse stick to beat down any man who approaches you. Silent killer, with the likes of Jaqen H'ghar. Maybe somehow still have everyone call it an enigmatic plague, of some sorts.”

Sometimes, around Samuel, Skye felt more magpie than she did girl, constantly yearning to reach out and steal the gleam in his smile so she could stow it away somewhere safe -- beneath her pillow, in the third draw of her bedroom desk, tucked deep in her closet inside an unmarked shoe box -- and save it there where the world couldn’t weather it. It was the kind of inexplicable craving that drove her crazier than a splinter wedged beneath the nail of her thumb, teeth constantly tugging in a desperate bid to wriggle it free and soothe the inevitable sting that came with exorcising such a sweetness in the name of playing it safe. Because that was what it was, she tried to drill into her head over and over: playing it safe. Averting her eyes from his after only a few seconds of intently staring was playing it safe. “I doubt that’s approved in the team handbook. Page three, sub-section four: throttle Creepy Craig’s to death if they have especially Gollum-esque hairlines. All Steve Buscemi doppelgangers must perish or else,” she imagined with an assisting pan of a free hand across the air to pretend it was being shown in the sparkling bulbs of a Hollywood show sign, corners of her ruby red lips tweaking once it dropped after. “They should add that as a rule, actually. Kind of has a ring to it, now I say it out loud.” Bringing her cup up towards her lips, she took a lengthy sip before milling casually around the kitchen island that separated them, fingertips of a free hand flitting between numerous bottle caps in pointless investigation -- sometimes she paused to tilt a bottle just so to the left, always feeling the need to control and correct things if they weren’t just how she personally liked them. “Are you having fun?” Finally pausing in her militant stalk around the counters, Skye set her cup down and hitched herself up in a fluid motion to take a seat on the marble surface opposite him, tugging one slim leg up over another and meticulously smoothing the skirt of her black slip dress down once it shifted against her thigh with the movement. “I saw a girl choke on three pieces of gum earlier. Three. I don’t even know why she felt the need to cram them all in there. Honestly, it was kind of entertaining. It was like watching an interpretive dance around a campfire. Michael Jackson is quaking. He could never choreograph something that iconic.”

[skycmontgomery]

matcofernandez

Mateo had been about to reply to Skye as they talked nonsensically about the benefit the table in the middle of pizzas when Bob/Brad had skulked over like the villain in a video game. Pursing his lips impatiently as they tried their hand at obviously getting Skye’s number, he did nothing but smirk and flip the frat boy off as they walked away, more than shut down by the smaller girl. “That was hot. Label me? Fully erect,” he snickered, taking a sip of his drink as he watched her make her own, “Hasn’t he tried to take you out before? You should pity the poor guy, he’s gonna be living in his parents place when he’s, like, 35. The least you could do is show him some empathy, let him grab a tit one time, for exactly six seconds. Done and done, he’d probably bust before the six seconds were even up.”

Blinking back at Mateo in utter disbelief like the renowned meme, Skye did little to mask her disgrace. “You’re fucking barbaric. As if I even want to hear about your fully mast chorizo, Mateo. God... Gross. I feel like I need to waft around a stick of sage to be fully cleansed. Attacked by the ghost of ex-boyfriend’s past,” she exhaled melodramatically, lifting her cup up to take a sip after finishing fixing her drink only to nearly choke on it as he carried on talking. Reaching over and swatting Mateo on the chest with all the raging force of Hurricane Katrina, Skye jostled a rigid finger beneath his chin like a professor attempting to wrangle a student back into line or a wizard holding another up at Avada Kedavra point. “If you talk about someone grabbing my tit one more time I’m blocking you on all social media and Hermione Grangering you from all my photos. For Christ’s sake. I’m distraught. I feel like Nicole Richie when she snapped and whipped water at a bunch of paparazzi on the street.” Finally dropping her finger when she realised she’d been prodding it against his Adam’s apple, Skye furrowed her eyebrows subtly and relented in her impromptu tyranny. “Oh. Oops. Okay, I didn’t mean to... choke you. Somewhat extreme. Genuine accident.”