Bellarke One Shots Book 2

97) Christmas costumes

Archive of our own
By: lightyears
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"Hot."

"Really?"

"Really."

"And not too slutty?"

A pause. Clarke worries her lip.

"It's a little slutty."

She groans, "Rave!"

"In a good way! It's a dress up Christmas party, babe. People are expected to dress a little slutty."

"You sure?"

Raven clambers off the couch to stand in front of Clarke, bringing her hands up to her friend's shoulders.

"Very sure. Plus, it's funny. You've been saying that you want people to realise you're not just a workaholic. This'll help."

Clarke worries her lip, "I guess so."

"Plus you look like a total babe."

Clarke huffs a laugh. Raven's not totally wrong - she does look pretty damn good.

"Okay," Clarke sighs. "It's not like I have another costume to wear."

"Exactly," Raven grins. "Thank god we got drunk and bought slutty Christmas clothes in college."

"You said a little slutty," Clarke complains.

Raven cackles, smacking a kiss onto Clarke's cheek in lieu of responding. Clarke narrows her eyes, but decides to drop it. It's unlikely that her friend will offer anything that'll make her feel any better, anyway.

She walks back to her bedroom rolling her eyes, beginning to carefully pull out the rollers from her hair. It falls in loose curls around her face, cascading down her bare back to tickle it lightly. Once she's finished with her eyeliner, she chooses a dark shade of red lipstick, one that matches her dress and gives off a bit of a 'fućk off' vibe that she's pretty happy to emanate. She's looking pretty fuckìng good, actually.

She finds some black heels, a pair that might be a little too high for work, but are probably alright for a Christmas party, and steps into them before grabbing her dark grey coat.

"Wish me luck," she calls to Raven as she walks to the front door of their apartment.

"Damn girl," Raven hollers from the couch. "You finally making a move on Blake?"

"Shut up," Clarke sing-songs, choosing to ignore rather than deny, and hears a cackle of obnoxious laughter in response.

The cab takes just over thirty minutes in the Saturday evening traffic, snow falling almost languidly from the dark sky. The party is at their office, because the staff collectively agreed that they would prefer a larger alcohol budget than hiring some place out, which. Well, it should tell you what you need to know about where she works.

She's been working at Ark Magazine for a few years now, and it's weirdly laid-backed. Everyone works hard and gets the job done on-time of course, and their standards are high (they have to be when they're still trying to sell print media), but everyone also gets drunk together and places bets with each other and really, most of them are her good friends (she's not sure how to categorise Bellamy Blake, though). It's weird, but she loves it.

It's why she's feeling okay about wearing something that probably wouldn't be appropriate otherwise. She knows her friends will probably double over with laughter when she takes off her coat, maybe offer a round of applause (she's hoping at least). They're probably going to be wearing similar outfits, honestly.