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crack_van2011-02-15 09:39 pm
hardticket.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2011-02-15 09:39 pm
Entry tags:
A Month of Sundays ![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
green_postit (NC 17)
Fandom: STAR TREK REBOOT/DOCTOR WHO
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy/Donna Noble
Length: 5700
Author on LJ:green_postit
Author Website: http://green-postit.livejournal.com/tag/fiction
Why this must be read: I have to admit a threesome fic with Donna Noble really didn't intrigue me at first. I love Donna but I see her as mostly the Doctor sees her,your best mate. But this fic is believable hot and sexy. Kirk and McCoy basically travel with the Doctor and Donna for a while and the relationship develops from there. Definitely a must read.
Her whole life, all Donna wanted was to be happy.
She went to primary and secondary like a good little girl, passed her A-levels and graduated to her mum and Gramps clapping loudly from the middle of the auditorium.
She did a year of college, and like most students, had more fun in the pubs with her girlfriends than in lecture halls, hunched over spiraled notepads. She took a gap in the middle of uni to 'discover herself' and she did temp work to earn the money she was going to use to travel the globe.
It's been fifteen years.
She never went back to school and she's still a secretary, hasn't got five quid to rub together and hasn't managed further than Glasgow.
She ignores her mum's pointed disapproval, tries to not let it dig under her skin the way it did when she was twenty-one, twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five. Instead of traveling the world, she smuggles whisky into her tea and curls on the chair near Gramps, lets him tell her these wonderful stories of a man in a blue policeman's box.
Gramps talks with his whole body, punctuates with his arms, waggles his fingers in complex math equations. His hands are smudged black, newspaper ink set deep into the pads of his fingers. Rain or shine, he's up at dawn to open his stand, tugs on his woolen cap and disappears until noon.
Fifty years of selling stories, selling history, born during a war and served his country when he was of age. He has just enough money to keep his cup full, enough spare time to keep up with the odd hobbies that keeps him happy.
He looks to the stars the way a devout man looks to God, keeps her smiling with conspiracies and theories, keeps mentioning the man and his box over and over.
Sitting with Gramps, listening to his passions, sipping her spiked tea, she thinks she's happy.
Then she meets The Doctor.
A Month of Sundays
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy/Donna Noble
Length: 5700
Author on LJ:
green_postitAuthor Website: http://green-postit.livejournal.com/tag/fiction
Why this must be read: I have to admit a threesome fic with Donna Noble really didn't intrigue me at first. I love Donna but I see her as mostly the Doctor sees her,your best mate. But this fic is believable hot and sexy. Kirk and McCoy basically travel with the Doctor and Donna for a while and the relationship develops from there. Definitely a must read.
Her whole life, all Donna wanted was to be happy.
She went to primary and secondary like a good little girl, passed her A-levels and graduated to her mum and Gramps clapping loudly from the middle of the auditorium.
She did a year of college, and like most students, had more fun in the pubs with her girlfriends than in lecture halls, hunched over spiraled notepads. She took a gap in the middle of uni to 'discover herself' and she did temp work to earn the money she was going to use to travel the globe.
It's been fifteen years.
She never went back to school and she's still a secretary, hasn't got five quid to rub together and hasn't managed further than Glasgow.
She ignores her mum's pointed disapproval, tries to not let it dig under her skin the way it did when she was twenty-one, twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five. Instead of traveling the world, she smuggles whisky into her tea and curls on the chair near Gramps, lets him tell her these wonderful stories of a man in a blue policeman's box.
Gramps talks with his whole body, punctuates with his arms, waggles his fingers in complex math equations. His hands are smudged black, newspaper ink set deep into the pads of his fingers. Rain or shine, he's up at dawn to open his stand, tugs on his woolen cap and disappears until noon.
Fifty years of selling stories, selling history, born during a war and served his country when he was of age. He has just enough money to keep his cup full, enough spare time to keep up with the odd hobbies that keeps him happy.
He looks to the stars the way a devout man looks to God, keeps her smiling with conspiracies and theories, keeps mentioning the man and his box over and over.
Sitting with Gramps, listening to his passions, sipping her spiked tea, she thinks she's happy.
Then she meets The Doctor.
A Month of Sundays