#Grounder is almost all of these
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torchickentacos · 3 months ago
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The world may change at rapid paces that induce constant emotional whiplash, but at least there's one constant (pokemon xy anime discourse on twitter)
#I almost never use twitter for several reasons but I do check in suuuper rarely when I want to look at fanart#and there's always some sort of xy argument on my tl no matter who I follow (or don't). I find comfort in this.#it's an important part of the pokeani online ecosystem#and my part in the ecosystem is 'critter that lives under a rock and occasionally scuttles out for crumbs only to run back afterwards'.#anyways my take on xy is that it did some good things and some bad things like every other season of pokeani. idk.#i know that's an incredibly boring opinion but oh well#i've never been well situated to be passing judgment on which seasons are the highest quality anyways kdjskfjsdkf.#rocks and glass houses and all that jazz.#i mean i do have opinions on xy but i think my opinions are just kind of in the middle and boring?#there's some good and some bad and lots of missed potential. that's pokeani as a whole for you though.#I could make a pros/cons list for every season and I think it'd be pretty balanced at the end of the day tbh?#each season has good and bad things. it's just about finding which seasons have the good things you like!#maybe it's just the people pleasing middle-grounder in me but i really think all seasons are pretty even at the end of the day-#they just appeal to different people.#every season is someone's favorite and every season has haters. this is normal and fine.#but by all means keep the arguing going. people not arguing about xy would be an apocalypse-is-coming type of change honestly
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anjellaufeyson · 11 months ago
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I could treat you better - Bellamy Blake
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Time stamp: 1:38
My boyfriend was lovely–his friend wasn’t. Bellamy Blake was the rudest man I’ve ever come across; I only tolerated him for my boyfriend. 
Murphy kissed me before he got pulled away for work, he was doing guard watch. I sighed, why couldn’t Bellamy do this? He always had Murphy doing everything for him, and I’m sick of it. Whenever Muphy comes back to our tent he’s exhausted or too tired to even spend time with me. I left my tent and walked inside Bellamy’s, he was shirtless and a girl was lying on his bed. I immediately left with a disgusted look on my face. 
Soon he came out searching for me, “What do you want, princess?” 
I palmed my face while we strolled together through Arkadia, “I’d prefer if you wouldn’t call me that, Blake. Especially since some people say that when they’re together.” 
He tilted his head, his eyes gazing into mine, he glanced down with a bit of a smile, “Right, whatever you say, princess.” 
The need to correct and argue with him was there but I ignored it for the sake of Murphy. “okay–can you please stop keeping my boyfriend working late? I’m aware of how things are, like it or not I’m one of the smart ones and I think he’s being overworked and–”
Bellamy’s face showed confusion in itself, “Murphy gets off at the same time as everyone else. I work the late nights, I’m who stays up all night, every night.” 
I stopped moving, trying to process my indecision and incoming sense of betrayal. “Wait, you haven’t been keeping Murphy late or hanging out with him late?” 
He shook his head and crossed his arms, his muscles clenching to his tight shirt. His veins popping out. My eyes tore away, my emotions were my only focus. “No, I don’t think anyone has. We’ve been on a lockdown since Clarke went missing.” 
My brain racked everything Murphy’s ever told me since he began ‘working’ late. I thought of the girl I assumed he had a relationship with but when I questioned him, he brushed me off. Out of anger, I took off leaving Bellamy, who ended up following behind me calling for my name. I moved the tent side and immediately saw Murphy and the girl kissing. They stopped once they noticed me and how distraught I looked. 
I backed up and accidentally bumped into Bellamy’s chest, I didn’t cry. I felt like I should cry, my body begged to cry, but when you did here–it made you seem weak. And I’d never want Murphy to see me cry even though my heart did in return. I turned and tried to shield myself with Bellamy’s chest, but hesitantly he put his arms around me. Trying to comfort me but I knew we both detested each other. He never liked me with Murphy for a reason I am unaware of, and I just never liked him. He brushed his hand up and down my back, almost in circular motions. 
Murphy’s voice appeared from behind me but I didn’t dare to look back because I felt so vulnerable, I knew I would cry. “I need to talk with her, I can explain!”
Bellamy stepped in, holding me closer. His voice was demanding, his tone was deep, “Murphy, you should go. Now. If she wants to talk to you, she’ll do it later.” 
I could hear Murphy protesting before easily giving up, he didn’t care to try. I pushed away from Bellamy who almost looked shocked at how quickly I switched up. 
We had to go on a mission, and I found myself in a difficult position. A hand covered my mouth and once I realized I didn’t know the person whose hand it was I began to get a bit scared. I tried to fight them off but couldn’t–it had to be a grounder. 
The grounder pulled a sword on me and dug into my back, but not enough to hurt me but it pierced the skin. He pushed me onto my knees where my friends were–including Bellamy. The whole hunting group was in. Murphy seemed nervous. I guess I should be too, especially since it’s my life on the line. 
“Who’s valuable to her?”
What an odd fucking question–is this supposed to be leverage? Might as well let me die. 
Bellamy not even a second later stepped forward, “She’s with me, that’s my girlfriend.” He spoke so truthfully that even everyone we knew was aware he was lying through his teeth. 
“What are you willing to give me in turn for her life?” 
His eyes almost turned vulnerable, his words coming off as pathetic as his tone came off as pleads. “What do you want?” 
The grounder moved the sword which caused me to wince, “I want Wanheda.” Everyone shared a confused glance, who is that? “Give her to me and I won’t kill her.” 
“Take me instead, she has a better chance of getting through to Wanheda than me.” What is he doing? He’s going to get himself killed–I’m aware he can handle himself but this is almost suicidal. The grounder pushed me into Bellamy’s arms. He squeezed my hand for the quickest second and moved to the grounder who hit him immediately. 
I wanted to help him but I didn’t know how to, Bellamy could’ve attacked but stayed down, taking another punch with ease. I stepped forward but he put his hand up, “Don’t,” he demanded while blood ran down his cheek. 
Why was he willing to do this for me? We’ll never find her, I mouthed. He did a tiny nod. They need you, I mouthed once more. He got kicked in his ribs and I knew I lost his attention but while the grounder was distracted I quickly stole Murphy’s gun and shot the grounder. My aim was good, but I hated shooting, killing wasn’t something I wanted to do. But I had to–for him. 
Without processing what I did I went to Bellamy’s side. I hated his stupidity and I hated how he saved my life. “I hate you,” I said as I helped him up. He spit out blood, “I know,” he said while wincing from getting up too quickly. 
While Bellamy was getting medical from Abby, I was talking with Octavia and Jasper. Murphy approached grabbing my arm, “Were you and Bellamy seeing each other behind my back?”
His breath reeks of Monty’s moonshine, “Are you serious? You’ve been cheating on me, Murphy?”
“Were you yes or no?” 
Before I could say anything Bellamy put his arm around my waist. His hands slipped around my stomach. Holding me tight but just to keep himself steady from behind. “Yes,” he said in a raspy voice, still clearly in pain. I couldn’t turn my head, I’d be too close to his face. He groaned a bit in pain but still managed to keep his posture strong and himself looking composed. Bellamy pulled me in closer to him and that got a bit of a reaction from Murphy. 
“Fuck you both,” he said as he stormed off. Everyone else decided to leave us alone, I was going to Bellamy back to medic. There was a zero percent chance he was let out yet. 
He stopped me from walking, his tight and bloody shirt doing him every bit of justice. His hands took control so easily, “Why’d you do it,” I asked. 
His fingers traced along my neck, “Save you? Or help you?”
“Both,” I spoke breathlessly. His eyes were fixated on my lips and I wondered if Abby gave him painkillers or something for this type of behavior. 
Bellamy stared down at me, tension felt like it was rising, and the heat was radiating off our bodies. He kept one hand on my waist, holding me. His right hand pulled my hair to the side he leaned in, “because we both know I could treat you better,” he whispered into my ear.
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radioactiverats · 29 days ago
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Thoughts: Electric shock (Starscream x reader)
The first time it happens, you both react in comically similar fashions - with an ungainly yelp, cradling hand and servo respectively as you jump away from each other.
"What the frag was that?" Starscream hisses. "How is it that humans can generate charge?"
"Charge?" you mutter. You suppose the interpretation makes sense. "That was an electric shock. It happens a lot in winter." You almost laugh at the fact that you completely forgot about the inevitability of this. The bots are giant metal beings, after all.
Starscream scrutinizes you through suspicious, narrowed optics, maintaining a wary distance. He has to admit that it stirred the long-dormant scientific curiosity inside him, though. Cybertronians are no stranger to generating charge, but a charge of this scale only occurs during interface - and their partner, assuming they were cybertronian as well (Hmm. Interesting factor. Starscream files that away for later, if only out of morbid curiosity (lie)), would ordinarily have nullified the charge, in a sense. Either through rerouting, absorbing it into their EM field - grounders were particularly good at this, and had been highly sought after partners for a while. Starscream yanks his spiralling thoughts back with a snarl. Cybertronians had relative control over their EM field, able to project it to comfort, merge with others, achieve understanding with one another without the need for verbal communication. Starscream had considered this a mark of sophistication amongst his species - even if thoughts like these had belonged to a time before the war.
So humans had a primitive EM field, he'd known this for a while. If he reached out to touch your field, so weak it radiated only centimeters from your form (it's not like you knew he was doing that, it's not like you would realize he cared, god forbid anyone knew he cared.), he could feel the maelstrom of your puny human feelings and was all at once shaken by it. How could something so small, which existed for barely a blip of his existence, feel so much?
After some observation, he'd quickly established (with some disappointment) that you had no control over your EM field.
Pathetic, Starscream thought. Another reason that cybertronians are superior beings.
However, his little 'experiments' didn't stop. Unexpected and spontaneous generation of charge was simply not something that his kind did, even if he was loathe to admit his interest (purely scientific, of course).
Which begins a rather undignified exercise of him trying to poke you with a servo when you least expected it, to see if charge would generate - "Ow, FUCK - Starscream!"
You quickly resigned yourself to the fact that you had to fight fire with fire. Quietly approaching from your perch on his desk as he squinted and swore over a stack of datapads, you reach a hand out and slap it onto his arm.
Both of you screech at the same time as an audible SNAP crackles between you. Still, you can't stop your laughter as Starscream bolts upright to hurl every cybertronian profanity in the book at you.
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sukunasbow · 2 years ago
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sick, bellamy blake.
summary: in which you take care of bellamy blake when he catches the virus spreading around the camp!
warnings: fem!reader, kane’s daughter!reader, kinda ‘enemies’ to lovers, mentions of blood and puking, doesn’t exactly follow the original scene from the show, some use of (y/n), and not proof read so grammar but be really trash atm since i wrote this at like five in the morning!
notes: this is lowkey bad and i don’t know if anyone still reads the 100 works but enjoy to anyone who likes this!
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“Clarke!” Jasper yells, running towards the drop ship, catching your attention. “What? She’s resting, I’m taking over.” You walk towards the doorway, pulling down the old shirt you have wrapped around your neck to cover your face, wondering what’s wrong now.
Murphy brought back some virus from the grounders, quickly spreading it to almost everyone at the camp. Due to this, you’ve spent the entirety of the night walking around the ship, cleaning up the bloody faces of the people around you and giving clean water to them after Clarke caught the virus and could no longer take over.
As you reach the doorway, your eyes widen when you see Jasper standing next to three boys. One of the boys is being held up by the other two. “Bellamy?” You immediately run towards the boys when you realize who it is, “Jasper, stay outside, you can’t get sick.” You instruct, stopping him from getting any closer to his sick friend. “Come on, help me make space!” You yell, leading the boys towards a dirty cot in the drop ship. “Here, thanks.” You tell them, the boys carefully lying him down before quickly leaving the room full of sick teenagers.
“Bell?!” Octavia rushed towards her brother, who you quickly turn on his side as he starts throwing up blood. “Oh my god.” You squint, somehow still not used to the sight of bloody vomit. As much as you hate the stubborn and self appointed ‘leader,’ you felt awful seeing his current state. “I got this.” Octavia places a hand on your shoulder, letting you know she wants to take care of her brother and have some space, “Call me if you need me.” You nod.
“Hey, get some rest, let me take over now.” You whisper, kneeling down next to Octavia and her sleeping brother. “Are you sure?” She bites her lip, clearly struggling to stay awake. “Yes, go sleep.” You smile. Octavia gives in and accepts your offer, going to sleep near Clarke, still close enough incase anything happens while she’s resting.
Moments later, your eyebrows raised at the sound of Bellamy moving around. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong?” You breathe out, trying to be as gentle as you can, awkwardly touching his arm. He opens his eyes even more, squinting to make sure it’s you.
“Oh. I thought you hated me, huh? Yet you’re taking care of me?” Somehow while he’s going through a deadly virus, he still manages to piss you off and be arrogant. “Would you rather me just let you choke on your own blood?” You scoff. He lets out a raspy laugh, coughing up some blood in the process. “Ew.” You fake gag when you notice some of the blood splatter on your shoes, still trying to remain lighthearted. “Shut up.” He huffs. “Let me help, sit up a bit.” You mumble, taking the shirt you previously were using as protection and dipping it into a clean bucket of water, then moving closer to Bellamy. “You need to stay away, stop.” He pushes you away, only now noticing the lack of face covering you have on. “It’s fine.” You move back to where you were, carefully grabbing his face, running your thumb over his cheekbones as you gently dab the wet cloth on his face. The dried blood slowly washes off of his face.
“There he is.” You place the cloth down beside him. “I can finally see your smug face.” You joke, earning an eye roll from him. “All better.” You hum. A small smile appears on your face as his eyes start fluttering shut. Although you’re supposed to be against him and his shit leading skills, you still feel a part of you melting at the closeness between you and him. “Okay, you can go back to sleep.” You laugh at Bellamy’s attempt to stay sitting up and awake. “Wait, no, I should-” He starts, you quickly stopping him from moving. “Bellamy.” You whisper, “Please, just let yourself relax.” You tone is soft and gentle, something that surprises both of you, even more the man, his eyes softening. He feels his own heart melt, which also surprises him.
As he goes back to lying down, he watches as you carefully walk away, weaving around the drop ship, avoiding the other people that are lying down. He catches himself almost smile. Now, he realizes he might feel something opposite of ‘hatred’ towards you, the stubborn daughter of Marcus Kane that always disagrees with him, who he’s supposed to be against.
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itsonlybaby · 9 months ago
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𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 - 𝐛. 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞﹒
◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
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playlist !
Bellamy Blake - Arkadia
꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ ⸝⸝ you're a coder, but what's a coder without something to code? bellamy had instructed you to keep watch of the guns and ammo instead of going out with the guard on a hunt. you feel useless to the people of arkadia, maybe bellamy could help with that. ﹒   ⊹  ⤷ cw: cursing, small kiss scene, sfw
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"I shouldn't be watching the guns, Bellamy!"
I shout from inside the main room where we kept the rovers. Bellamy had ordered me to stay in Arkadia while the rest of them went on a hunt, rations had grown scarce since Kane ordered the guard to go out less with the threat of grounders. This was a rare time when people got to go beyond the gate.
"We don't need a lot of people for this, okay? So just stay here." Bellamy argued back, it made sense, only a few people were going with him. Clarke, Murphy, Miller, Harper, and another from the guard. I never got around to knowing everyone's names.
I just knew I felt trapped being behind these walls, I was starting to feel useless to the people around me as well, it's not like I could code anything to help us with the grounder attacks, all I could do was sit with Monty and try to contact other stations with radios. Which always ended up in radio silence.
I could feel my blood boiling, "Well why Harper? It's not like I can't handle a gun, swap her out with me." I hadn't known Harper was leaning on a rover near Bellamy and me.
"Gee, thanks." I heard Harper chirp up in a sarcasm-filled tone. I'd have to apologize later, she knows I didn't mean it.
Bellamy sighed and placed his hands on his hips, looking at me sternly. It was only then I got a good look at him. His curls were more defined today, for once not littered with blood and dirt, you could see his freckles more clearly as well. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't dreamt of him once or twice.
"We need Harper, she's been training with Miller and has become a good shot," Bellamy turned towards the first rover, setting his gun down in the back as Miller climbed in, Harper following after. "This isn't up for discussion." He finishes off with his back turned to me.
Clarke had come up from behind me and placed her hand on my shoulder, attempting to comfort me. "It'll be fi-"
I had cut her sentence short by jerking my shoulder away, I wasn't just mad at her, I was mad at the world. I hadn't said anything further and took one last look at Bellamy before storming off to the armory.
It had been a few days since that last encounter. The group had come back with plenty of food, a successful mission with only a few scrapes and cuts. They didn't even encounter any grounders.
Since they had come back I made no move to talk to any of them- or anyone for that matter. Only speaking to Monty when I had to, which was only once.
Bellamy had tried to speak to me, he tried to sit with me during dinner, tried to speak to me at the bar, and even tried talking to me on the radio stations. Which made a part of my heart flutter at his attempts. It almost made me forget why I was even mad at him to begin with.
I was at the computer, sitting and waiting for anything to pop up about the radios when Monty said he had plans with Jasper to help cheer him up, I made no move to stop him. What's more time alone with my thoughts? They were all of Bellamy. Replaying the few moments he'd try and talk to me in my head.
Me and Bellamy weren't as close as the rest of the group was. It isn't that he didn't try and talk to me, it's just ever since we landed I've viewed him as a player who only had one goal in life; to get into girls' pants.
It's safe to say he's been growing on me- well he was. I had been starting to miss his shitty jokes, how the light from the fire would illuminate his face in the best way, how his smile looked, how it was like he got stars in his eyes every time he laughed. I always tried to impress him, so why wouldn't he let me go?
My thoughts were cut short when I heard a pair of footsteps, which I just assumed were Montys.
"Hey, Monty." I greeted in a monotone voice, not caring to check.
"It's not Monty." I heard the other voice say, a voice I knew too well. What did he want now? I spun around in my chair, seeing how Bellamy toward over me. I simply tolled my eyes at him.
"What do you need," I said flatly
"Why're you ignoring me? Avoiding me?" He asks, care lacing his voice.
I took a moment to think about my reply, why exactly was I? He made me feel useless, I can't do anything to help Arkadia besides sit her in this fucking chair.
"Why didn't you let me go?" I countered his question with a question.
I was met with a scoff, "You're still on this? I told you it wasn't up for discussion."
"Yes, I'm still on this! I do nothing for Arkadia besides sit here and listen to a radio nobody talks into!" I shout, standing up abruptly, and walking closer to him.
Bellamy crossed his arms, unmoving. "What if something had happened to you?" He spoke, trying to remain calm.
"Then so be it! I feel useless Bellamy." My voice wavered, tears threatening to spill.
"You're everything but. At least here, you'd be safe." We were now inches apart.
"Why do you even care." Tears began crawling down my cheek, I couldn't believe I let myself get so vulnerable with him.
"Because I just do," He paused, debating if he should say what he was thinking. "And I'd never forgive myself if I let something bad happen to you."
His arms were now uncrossed and resting on my forearms, a touch that practically melted me. His words brought a deeper blush on my cheeks, my tears slowing their roll. I felt myself moving closer every second until finally, his lips were on mine.
It wasn't a kiss of lust or craving, it was a kiss of passion, a kiss that made me feel warm all over, it was a feeling I wanted to last forever. Bellamy was kissing me like I could break at any minute. His hands went up to cup my cheeks and wipe away my tears.
He had pulled away with a smile, leaving my lips feeling lost.
"I've wanted to do that since the day we landed," Bellamy admitted, a faint pink tint lining his face. Bellamy, blushing, something I never thought I'd see. A goofy smile made its way onto my face at the sight.
"Being useless doesn't seem so bad now."
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◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
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pastelwoolfie · 3 months ago
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raise your hand if you like old man yaoi!! ✋✋✋
good GOD i love optiratch like hrrrrgrgrgrgrggg I LOVE THEM🫶🫶🫶
(it’s headcannon timeeee)
ratchet (the ookiest pookie) was born to be a medic, right? cybertronians have different frame types, we know this, there’s grounders, seekers, racers, two-wheelers, war frames, etc etc we know this!! i like to think that a bot can be born in a medic frame - that means more dexterous/nimble and sensitive servos, sharper optics, additional system processings/knowledge retention capacity to account for All That Knowledge they need to know to be a medic. a bot born to be a medic is a bot known to be a medic, which ratchet was. he was born a medic and became a phenomenal one. that doesn’t mean non-medic frames can’t be medics, though! knockout was born a racer, but he became a physician. medic-borns can also be really really bad doctors!
more about ratchet though. this post is about ratchet.
born to be a medic, he went to medical school. as one does. and fresh out of school, just starting up his work, BOOM there’s a war. obviously this doesn’t take him by surprise - his college roommate was an activist-slash-archivist-slash-his-crush-slash-protestor, renown Good Guy orion pax. he was literally there when he became a prime!! he had met megatron, awesome gladiator extraordinaire, and was all ‘oh he’s so violent’!! already being close with optimus meant he was immediately enlisted to the autobot cause. he was so ready to join the autobot cause. in fact, it was his joining the autobot cause that convinced many others to join. do-gooder, no-nonsense medic ratchet, top-of-his-class, kind-sparked ratchet wants to join the autobots? oh, good golly!! i should join him too!! if he’s an autobot, the cause must be worthwhile, right?
ratchet never got to experience that normal childhood most cybertronians have. he was medic-born, after all. he was raised with that always in mind, that pressure of healing others always there, and he simply grew into it.
thats why he’s so lost after the war’s end. it is literally almost all he knows - and the parts of his life that weren’t seeped in war and revolution and politics (he hates politics so much, but he was unfortunately involved in them) he spent training to be a doctor, surrounded by illness and injury.
ratchet does not know how to relax. he just doesn’t get it.
yap sesh over 👍
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ilguna · 2 years ago
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☼ warfare (Bellamy Blake) ☼
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summary; when everyone in camp starts becoming ill, you volunteer to help, not knowing that your boyfriend would come down with it, too.
warnings; swearing, ehh gore, weapon mention.
wc; 4.8k
You pull your boot on, stomping your foot into the dirt to make sure it’s on all the way, straightening the tongue to make it more comfortable on your foot. You yank at the laces to tighten them, liking your shoes on nice and tight, but not enough to cut off circulation.
You hate it when you sleep in so late, it’s never on purpose. It makes you feel like you’re not pulling your weight, when everyone else has been working for hours, and you’re just getting up. In reality, you tend to work the overnight shifts at the wall for the people who don’t want to do it, because you don’t mind. You work just as hard as everyone else does.
You stand up, stretching your arms above your head, letting out a loud yawn. The only reason why you’re even awake in the first place, is because of a sliver of sunlight that managed to make it through a rip in the tent. It happened to land right on your face, and after so long, you couldn’t sleep through it anymore.
You crouch, lifting up the corner of the makeshift mattress to find your knife underneath, pulling it out. You flick it open, checking to make sure that it’s clean, before closing it. If it were up to you, you’d sleep with it underneath your pillow. The issue is that you share the bed with Bellamy, and he has a habit of sticking his arm beneath the pillow. You found that out after he cut his bicep by accident last week, because you like to keep it open for faster and easier access.
You tuck it into your pocket, before heading out of the tent. The sun is bright, blinding you slightly. You squint through it, listening to the commotion that’s happening out here. When you can finally see, you can see there’s a problem unfolding next to the fire. Where you usually find most people gathered to keep warm, there’s only one that’s sat in front of it.
It’s Derek, he’s got blood smeared around his mouth, hand cupped beneath his chin.
Your face twists, dropping the tent flap behind you so it can fall back into place.
Clarke suddenly rushes past you, heading for the dropship. From a brief look at her, you can see red smeared beneath her eyes, almost reaching her chin. You follow after her, checking behind you to see if there’s anyone else. Only, you see that there’s a semi-circle around Derek now, barely propping himself upright.
“What have I missed?” You ask, jogging to catch up with Clarke.
“I think that whatever Murphy has is spreading.” She says, giving you a look over her shoulder. “To everyone that gets too close.”
You’re sure the last comment is her way of trying to tell you to back off because you might get sick, but you continue after her. She walks up the path and into the dropship, holding the curtains open long enough for you to catch them, being mindful to move when you get close.
Inside, you can hear wet coughing. Around Clarke, you can see Murphy’s beaten up body, hunched over the floor. When he showed up yesterday, there were a lot of mixed reactions. A lot of people were pissed that he was let back inside, human emotion took over when you all realized how bad of a condition he’s in.
You can’t say that you feel bad for him, though. He’s gotten everything that’s deserved to come for him so far, and you guess this is just another round of it. He looks like hell.
He begins coughing again, you can hear the blood splatter on the ground as he struggles to hold himself up. His clothes are torn in several places from trying to escape the grounders, revealing the wounds he’s suffered from them. Clarke gets close, not worried about her safety because she’s already sick, and gets on the ground with him.
“Murphy, hey, look at me.” She says, he slowly raises his head to meet her eyes. “I need you to tell me exactly how you escaped from the grounders. What happened?”
Blood drips from his mouth, “I don’t know. I woke up, and they forgot to lock my cage. There was no one there, so I took off.”
Clarke’s silent for a second, turning this information over in her mind. “They let you go.”
“What?” You ask, “Why—?”
The curtain moves, light shining inside of the dropship. You turn to see Bellamy coming inside, gun prepared in his hand. He looks over your face first, checking to make sure you’re okay, before landing on the two on the floor.
“Bellamy, stay back.” Clarke says.
You grab his arm, making sure he doesn’t get any closer. He presses a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth, missing your lips, “Did he do something to you?” Clarke shakes her head, Bellamy takes a few more steps forward to see more clearly, you hold onto him. “What the hell is this?”
“Biological warfare.” Clarke says, “You were waiting for the grounders to retaliate for the bridge? This is it.” She turns her attention back to Murphy, “Murphy’s the weapon.”
When Murphy looks up from the ground, you can see the full damage done to his face. He’s covered in cuts and gnarly wounds in general, blood smeared over every inch of his face from the eyes down. Along with that, his eyes are swollen, the cuts are swollen, and his lips are too. 
You press your lips together, thinking over what this could mean. How long before everyone else in camp gets sick? If Clarke thinks it spreads through touch, then it’s only a matter of time before your worst nightmare comes true. Murphy touched three, and who did those three get to? Will it affect everyone or only a select number?
The curtains are drawn to the side again, the three of you watch as the two from outside are brought in by other people. It’s Derek and Connor, they must’ve been the ones to help Murphy inside. They’re just more people that could possibly end up as bad as Murphy, or as mellow as Clarke is right now. 
The two newcomers are laid on the ground, where they immediately begin to succumb to the coughing fits.
You share a look with Bellamy, wondering if you should be covering your mouth with your shirt or something. If this turns out to be the base for the sick, then the place will be a petri dish in no time. You’re asking for it.
“Is this your revenge, helping the grounders kill us?” Bellamy asks, Clarke has begun to dab at some of Murphy’s wounds with a wet rag, starting with his forehead and working her way down.
“I didn’t know about this, okay? I swear.” Murphy mutters.
“Stop lying!” Bellamy shouts, “When are they coming?”
“Murphy, think, all right?” Clarke starts, “What can you tell us that’s useful? Did you hear anything?”
Murphy shakes his head slightly, “They’re vicious, cruel.”
“You want to see vicious?” Bellamy starts forward. You grab at his jacket, trying to get him from getting any closer than you already are. He rips the fabric from your grasp, continuing.
“Hey, don’t.” Clarke says, “Whatever this thing is, it spreads through contact.”
“That doesn’t mean anything anymore, most of you could be infected right now, then.” You say.
Clarke tilts her head, eyebrows raised, trying to tell you that you’re right without saying it out loud. It’s not a comforting thought, knowing that you’re right.
The curtain opens suddenly, and closes just as quick, Finn jogs into the room, “Clarke?”
“Finn, you shouldn’t be in here.” Clarke says, “No one should.”
“We’re fucked.” You sigh, running your fingers through your hair.
“I heard you were sick.” He breathes, looking around the room. It begins to dawn on him, “Clarke, what is this?”
“I don’t know, some kind of hemorrhagic fever.” She shakes her head, “We just need to contain it before—”
She’s interrupted by Derek when he begins to vomit all over the floor, body shaking so violently that he falls flat on the ground. You take a step back to give him more room, Clarke launches to her feet.
Finn reaches for her, she moves his hands away, “Hey, don’t touch me. You could get sick.” They share a look before she moves on, going to help Derek, “Wash your hands, now.”
Finn goes, like he’s ordered to.
“What the hell is happening to him?”
“I don’t know.” Clarke mutters.
A dark red and liquidy vomit hits the floor, consisting mostly of blood. This is when you lift your shirt over your nose to cover the smell, and watch as the boy collapses entirely in his own puddle of puke, the coughing ceases. Clarke gets down next to him, turning his head and finding no resistance. She reaches for his neck.
“Is he…?” Bellamy trails off.
Clarke’s expression falls, turning to look at you two, “He’s dead.”
There’s a few seconds of silence that goes through the room, where no one moves and stares at either Clarke or the body. It kills. The disease that Murphy brought into camp kills.
Once again, she’s the first person to move, grabbing a bottle off the shelf, going up to Finn. “Here, alcohol, hold out your hand.” She dumps enough to douse his hands.
“What do we do?” He asks.
“Quarantine.” She says, “Round up everyone who had contact with Murphy. Bring them here.”
Finn nods, not bothering to wait, leaving the dropship.
Bellamy’s eyebrows raise, “And everyone they had contact with?”
“Well, we have to start somewhere.” Clarke reasons, before turning around, “Connor, who was with you when you found him? Who carried him in? Think.”
Connor’s got a ring of red around his mouth because of the blood that leaked from his nose. The tips of his fingers are covered in blood, “The first one there was Octavia.”
Bellamy’s lips part, eyes widening. He doesn’t even look at you before starting out of the dropship, leaving you here with Clarke, Connor and Murphy.
You shake your head slightly, backing up to the opening, “Do you think some of us could be immune?”
“It’s hard to tell.” Clarke’s eyes find the ground, eyebrows drawing in. “It’s possible, but there’s always delayed reactions.”
You take a spot by the door, planting your feet, leaning against the wall. You hold your shirt over your nose. It can’t be of much use to do this anymore, considering you’ve breathed their air. You could be sick in a matter of hours or as late as tomorrow.
Finn gets to work outside. In the span of fifteen minutes, the ship has already begun to fill up with sick people, being carried in by those who volunteer to help. It isn’t too long after when Bellamy comes in with Octavia, who doesn’t look like she’s sick at all.
Regardless, Clarke does a number of tests on her, trying to see if she has any of the range of symptoms that keep coming out. She has Octavia pull the skin beneath her eyes down and tilt her head back to check her ose. It ends with Clarke shining a flashlight into the back of her throat, checking for sores that might produce blood.
“Okay, we’re done.” Clarke clicks it off, “No visible signs of swelling or bleeding.”
Bellamy’s rubbing his chin, “So you’re saying she doesn’t have it?”
“Don’t touch your face, Bell.” You pull at his wrist, ignoring the look he gives you for it.
“I’m saying she doesn’t have symptoms, but that could change.” Clarke says, “We need to keep her here just in case.”
“No way.” He motions to the people on the floor, “Look at this place. SHe’ll get sick just being here.”
“Do you want to stop the spread, or not?” She asks, “Look, I’ll keep her on the third level with the people who aren’t symptomatic yet. Think of it as a way to stop her from sneaking out again.”
Octavia’s face twits, “Screw you, Clarke.”
“I’ll let you know if her condition changes.” She says. 
“I’ll stay here too, to keep an eye on her.” You touch Bellamy’s arm, his expression changes entirely.
“No, I’m not letting you stay here, too. You haven’t even had contact with anyone that’s sick. You’re asking for it.” He tells you. 
“Someone needs to be in here to help them.” You raise your eyebrows. He clenches his teeth, the outline of his jaw becomes more defined, “I’ll be okay.”
He doesn’t say anything, turning around and walking straight through the curtains to the outside. You let out a sigh, moving the hair out of your face before looking back at Octavia and Clarke. 
Octavia’s done with the conversation, though, heading for the latter directly behind Clarke.
“Octavia, wait.” Clarke turns, “I need you to sneak out again.”
It doesn’t take much to convince Octavia to go and see Lincoln. She leaves immediately, and Clarke asks if you’re going to help cover her absence if Bellamy comes in questioning her. You nod, remarking that you already signed up for that when you said that you’d keep an eye on her for him.
In the meantime, you make yourself a bandana that you tie above your nose to be more careful. If they cough in your face, there’s no way for you to breathe it in, much less get the blood all over. You jump in, trying to help the best you can, moving around the room with Clarke to check on people to see if they’re okay.
The good news is, besides Derek, there’s only one other person that you find dead. She’s laying flat on her face, similar to the way Derek did when he died. You have one of the guys help you carry her out, lining her right up next to him.
“All right, show’s over. Get back to your posts.” Bellamy says, coming toward the ship, “You got enough food in there, water?”
“Yeah.” You smile.
“Some medicine might be nice.” Clarke says.
Bellamy laughs, “I’ll see what I can do.” You and Clarke turn to walk in. “Octavia, you okay?”
Your eyes slide over to Clarke, and you walk another two steps before turning like she does. She’s quiet for too long, it’s a dead giveaway that there’s something going on between you three.
“She’s sleeping.” You lie straight through your teeth, giving him a pretty smile, “We’ve got her isolated from everyone else. I’ve been watching her, as promised.”
He squints at you, watching your face, “What’s going on?”
He’s too smart for you to lie like this. You’ve got to try harder, “We—”
Clarke completely cuts you off, not bothering to keep it up, “She’s not here. I sent her to see Lincoln. Look, if there’s a cure, he has it. I didn’t tell you because I knew you wouldn’t let her go.”
You let out a sigh from your nose. You should’ve known that she wouldn’t actually lie to him. Bellamy glares right at you, you tilt your head at him, pressing your lips together. 
“If anything happens to her, you and me are gonna have problems.” He says, beginning to turn, “You too, (Y/n).”
“Bells.” You take a few steps down the slope.
“Bellamy!” Clarke calls.
The two of you watch him walk away. You let out a scoff, pulling the bandana down from your face, eyeing Clarke, “I thought you wanted a cover, moron.”
“There’s no point.” She mutters, voice nasally, unaffected by what you called her.
“Out of my way.” Bellamy barks. 
You and everyone else out here watch as the guy he’s talking to turns around, bloody tears streaming from his eyes. 
“Dude, your eyes!” Someone says, another pulls out his gun, aiming at him.
“Nobody touch him!”
You reach to pull the bandana up.
“Get to the drop ship, now.” Bellamy points, you watch as three other people aim their guns at the guy. He starts walking toward you two.
“Hey, are you okay?” Raven asks, you look in time to watch a girl collapse, hands covered in red. Two people move to grab her to avoid hitting the ground, and in return, she coughs a spray of blood in their faces.
“Oh my god. Oh my god, it’s on me!”
The second guy wipes the blood from his face onto his hands, smearing it, wandering it in the direction of a few people. They all pull out their guns, aiming at him, “Get away! Get back! Get back!”
You stand in horror,w watching as the panic grows, people covering their mouths, backing away from others. More guns are being pulled, people raising their hands in defense.
“Calm down.” Bellamy orders.
“Put that gun down!” Finn shouts.
Clarke doesn’t watch for long before turning around and heading into the ship. She comes out a second later, a gun in her hand. She points the barrel up, firing three shots. All eyes hit her, silence sweeping the camp. She heads down a few steps, “This is exactly what the grounders want. Don’t you see that? They don’t have to kill us if we kill each other first.”
“They won’t have to kill us if we all catch the virus!” One of the guys shout at her, pointing the gun in her direction, “Get back in the damn dropship!”
Bellamy takes three long strides, grabbing the gun to disarm him. In the process, he slams the butt of the gun into the guys’ throat, he falls to his knees.
“Not to state the obvious, but your quarantine isn’t working.” Bellamy tells her.
When you look over at Clarke, you watch as her eyes roll into the back of her head, the gun beginning to fall from her hand. You jerk forward to catch her before she hits the dirt, managing to grab her arms before Finn swoops in, holding her across his arms.
“Hey, let me go. I’m okay.” Clarke breathes.
“No, you’re not.” He says.
“Octavia will come back with a cure.” She says.
“There is no cure.” Octavia jogs over, “But the grounders don’t use the sickness to kill.”
“Really? Tell that to them.” Bellamy motions to the two bodies on the ground, “I warned you about seeing that grounder again.”
“Yeah, well, I have a warning for you, too.” She says, “The grounders are coming. And they’re attacking at first light.”
She walks right past Bellamy, looking at Finn, “Come on. I’ll help you get Clarke into the dropship.”
You look at Bellamy, pulling the mask down again. He eyes for face for a long couple of seconds, “I can’t believe you let her go, knowing how I feel about them.”
You nod, making a face, “We have to take chances sometimes, you know that better than anyone else.” You cross your arms, “And for the record, if Clarke hadn’t sent her, we wouldn’t know that we’re all going to die tomorrow morning.”
Bellamy’s lips turn up slightly, “You know I’d never let them touch you.”
“I know.” You agree, beginning to back up, “I’ll keep an actual eye on her this time.”
He nods, “Be careful, please.”
“I always am.” You say, pulling the mask over your nose, heading into the dropship.
Inside, you find that Murphy’s given up his hammock so that Clarke can rest in it instead. You start to walk over, Clarke’s half-open eyes land on you. She’s pale, and you can see a thin layer of sweat on her forehead.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Bellamy can never stay mad at me.” You stop by her feet, “I’ll kep an eye on everyone.”
“I’ll help you.” Octavia offers. 
“Me too.” Murphy gets up from where he’s sitting. He looks at you, “I’m feeling better.”
“That’s good.” You grab the nearest cup off of a table, rinsing it in the clean bucket of water before scooping drinkable water out of a different bucket. 
The three of you work as a team to get around the room, slowly hydrating the people that can’t move because of how much pain they’re in. There’s a few instances where they’ll cough in your face, blood splattering around your eyes, but never in your mouth. You try to feed them what little food you have to offer, and then move onto cleaning faces the best you can, even though you know that they won’t stay that way for long.
By the time the sun sets, you’re the only one still consistently moving around, making beds and fluffing pillows for people to use so that they can actually rest. Clarke watches you half of the time, making sure that you’re doing everything correctly when an emergency arises. She stops trying to tell you what you should be doing when she realizes that you’re getting the job done either way.
“I’m going to take a breather.” You say, washing your face with the clean water, and then dumping a small handful of the alcohol over your hands. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Take your time.” Clarke breathes, “You’ve been doing a lot.”
“You want anything from your tent?” You ask.
“No, I’m okay.” She smiles.
You leave through the curtains, immediately pulling the bandana down so you can get a few lungfuls of fresh air. It’s hot in there from the amount of unmoving bodies. You feel sticky from the sweat and blood that clings to you desperately. You’d give anything to take a shower.
You jog down the slope and toward your tent, hoping that you’ll meet someone along the way that has good news. They’ve got a lot of people that are putting their heads together to ensure that you’ll all be safe tomorrow morning, but they haven’t shared those plans just yet.
The moon is shining exceptionally bright tonight, you don’t even need the fires that light up the path. 
Halfway through your journey, you find Jasper, talking down at the corner of some tent. You’re about to make a joke, when you see that he’s talking to someone, not himself. And when you get closer, you see that it’s Bellamy.
“Bells!” You gasp, jogging closer.
“Stay back.” He holds his hand out. You can see that there’s blood running from his nose. You reach to untie the bandana from the back of your neck, turning it into a rag. You crouch down next to him, moving his hand away to wipe the blood. He turns his head away, eyes on Jasper, “Make the shot. Find Finn, go.” 
Jasper leaves, you move the hair out of Bellamy’s face, feeling how hot his forehead is, “Can you stand?”
“You shouldn’t be here.” He murmurs.
“I came out to see if you guys came up with a plan.” You say, “And because I needed a breather. It’s not easy being in there.”
“Is Octavia okay?”
“She’s fine.” You tell him, “Let’s get you up so you can see for yourself.”
Bellamy doesn’t want to touch you with his bloodied hands, so you wipe them as clean as you can. The two of you work together to get him on his feet, you pull an arm over your shoulder, trying to get him to lean on you.
“I can walk.”
“Must be why you fell over then, right?” You muse, he sucks in a breath. 
You work to get him to the ship, he’s dragging his feet, one arm wrapped around his abdomen. Everytime he teeters to one side, you have to try hard to correct it without sending you both falling over.
“Octavia!” You shout, helping him up the slope.
The curtains whip open less than a second later, taking in the sight of you two, before turning to look back inside, “Clear some space!”
Murphy jumps up to fix one of the beds, Octavia takes Bellamy’s other side, because he’s beginning to sink to the floor with each step. As soon as you get him to the end of the bed, you slowly lower him onto it, trying to be gentle.
Bellamy lays on his back, coughing up a mouthful of blood. You jerk to roll him over, watching as it all leaves his mouth, splattering onto the floor. He gags, Octavia pats his back.
“Hey, big brother.” She breathes, leaning over him.
You wipe his face with a dry rag, trying to keep the blood from running down the side of his jaw and onto his neck.
“I’m scared.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.” Octavia tells him. 
“That’s what I said to you the day you were born.” He’s sucking in air, having difficulty breathing. 
“I know.” She says. “You told me that, like, a thousand times.”
“I’m glad you’re here.” He grabs her hand, squeezing it.
“Just get some rest now, okay?”
Bellamy nods, tears pooling in his eyes. He closes them, head turning to the side. You make eye contact with Octavia, and a silent agreement passes between you two. You nod, telling her that you’ll stay right here.
Octavia gets up to go, you sit flat on your butt, crossing your legs. You slowly run a hand through Bellamy’s hair, wiping away the tears that escape. You try humming to him, knowing that trick works every now and then. He crosses his arms over his chest tightly, so you move to unzip your jacket, laying it across his chest.
He takes your hand in his.
It isn’t too long after when he falls asleep, body relaxing. You sit over him and watch to make sure that he’s still breathing and not choking on his own bloody vomit. Murphy and Octavia take turns to help out everyone, but it seems like people keep turning them away because of how tired they are.
However, there’s a few that are coming back to life, the illness finally passing. Even Clarke begins to get restless.
It’s a few hours later when Bellamy begins to stir. You lift your head from where you have it on the bed, placing your hand on his knee. His face twists before his eyes open suddenly, searching the room for a split second, but he stops as soon as he sees you, sitting up. 
“I’ve got water.” Murphy says, coming over with a cup.
You take it from him, Bellamy glares at him, “Thanks, I’ve got it.”
“Yeah.” He watches Bellamy for a second before walking away.
You pass the cup over, rubbing Bellamy’s knee for a second. He turns his attention to you, “Have you slept?”
“Partially.” You admit, “I don’t need you worrying about me. I work the overnight shifts, this is nothing compared to how late I’ve stayed up patrolling before.”
He doesn’t argue, “Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah, no symptoms. You look better.”
He takes a drink of the water, and then sets the cup on the floor. Clarke comes over, sitting on the bed next to Bellamy.
“Either of you seen Octavia?”
“She was up all night helping people.” You tell him, “Murphy gave her a break.”
Clarke gives him a look.
Bellamy squints at her, face twisting, “Don’t tell me you trust him now.”
“Trust? No.” Clarke looks away, “I do believe in second chances, though.”
Bellamy shakes his head, changing the topic, “It’s almost dawn. Better get everyone inside. If we lock the doors, maybe the grounders will think we’re not home.”
“Not everyone’s sick.” She says.
“Sick is better than dead.” Bellamy says.
“He’s right.” You agree.
“You don’t think Finn and Jasper are gonna pull it off.” She says, it’s not a question.
“Do you?” He asks.
She pauses for a second, “I’ll get everyone inside.”
Clarke gets to her feet, shuffling out of the dropship. You stretch, letting out a yawn.
“You should sleep, (Y/n).” He says, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.
“Should is the key word.” You say, “I’m not sleeping until everything’s settled.”
You get to your feet, tilting his head back so you can kiss his forehead, knowing better than to test your luck by aiming for his lips. He must think this is risky, because he pushes your hand away.
“Bells,” You murmur, “Stop.”
“Don’t.”
“I’ve had sick people coughing in my face all day, you think I can’t handle your germs?” You laugh, pushing his hand out of the way. You hold onto either side of his head, pressing a kiss to his forehead, “See?”
“Yeah.” He says, watching you sit next to him. He pulls you into his side, “Thanks for watching me all night.”
“You don’t have to thank me for that.”
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mystra-midnight · 1 year ago
Text
Counting Stars
summary: he was staring at you with those warm brown eyes that made your heart do somersaults in your chest—the same expression that made butterflies wing through your veins and heat pool in the pit of your stomach.
warnings: 18+ only. public setting? idk everything here is public. slight praise kink. pet name; (pretty girl). fingering. masturbation. edging. reader is down bad for bellamy, and we can't blame her.
words: 847.
notes: honestly it feels good to be getting back into my 100 boys. i might not have liked the ending but the show was phenomenal and i love the emotional algebra they all went through. the angst and character development was just *chefs kiss*
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This wasn't the time or the place; part of you knew that, but you were too far gone to care. With the threat of grounders, acid fog, and god knows what else lurking in the forest, you should have been terrified. Maybe you would have been had Bellamy not been kneeling between your spread legs.
You felt safest with him, entirely confident that he would move mountains to protect you. And he would—Bellamy would give his life to protect any of the hundred. There was a certain kinship he felt with them, a bond of loyalty, and a certain camaraderie that blossomed from all of them having been sent to a post-apocalyptic earth with no idea what to expect.
That was why, despite being almost naked and lying on the forest floor, you felt perfectly safe. Your legs were spread, the backs of your thighs resting over the front of his, giving him the perfect few of your pussy as he rubbed the knuckles of two fingers along your slit. He was staring at you with those warm brown eyes that made your heart do somersaults in your chest—the same expression that made butterflies wing through your veins and heat pool in the pit of your stomach.
He was staring at you as though you were the most beautiful thing on earth.
"Bell," you breathed his name in a sigh. His touch was soft and gentle, working you over slowly as he pushed the tips of his fingers between your fold. Bellamy watched the way your chest rose when you sucked in a sharp breath, his pointer finger circling your entrance once, twice, and a third time before pushing in. You gasped, your hips canting upwards to welcome him.
"What is it, pretty girl?" He hummed, smiling down at you with a sweet expression, one that contradicted the scandalous movement of his fingers in and out of your tight warmth. He brought his thumb to your clit, your slickness made it easy for him to rub quick shapes around your sensitive nub. His opposite hand held your thigh, fingers spread wide and possessively, his grip enough to entice an ache in the form of bruises.
"Don't tease me," you answered with a whimper, your head falling back against the foliage until you were staring at the stars above. They looked beautiful, like far-off galaxies twinkling in the distance. It would take a dozen lifetimes to count them all, but you would gladly do it if it meant an eternity with him between your legs. "Please, Bell, not tonight. I've been good. Just wanna cum for you. Please let me cum."
You knew that he adored you—that had never been a doubt in your mind. But his love didn't mean he was kind all the time. Sometimes he was mean, like this morning and right now. Bellamy enjoyed building you up and up, only to leave you balanced on the edge of oblivion. He liked to watch the frustration on your face when he denied you an orgasm; he liked to watch the ecstasy that overcame you when he finally gave it to you. That was what he'd done this morning.
In between kisses, he had split you open with his cock, wrapped your legs around his waist, and touched you all over the place with his hands. You'd left scratches down his back when he'd tried to pull away, your thighs shaking with the force of your impending orgasm as it slowly waned. He'd kissed you again before heading out for his patrol, leaving you frustrated and almost crying on his makeshift bed. It was why it took an embarrassingly short time for him to work you to the edge of your control, forcing you onto the precipice of oblivion once again.
"You're such a good girl for me." He said softly, leaning forward to cast a shadow over you, blocking out the view of the stars and making you lose count. You dug your nails into the dirt when he added a third finger between your thighs. It was a blissful stretch that had you keening loudly. Bellamy pressed his lips against your throat, the new position making your thighs fall open wider. "And you beg so prettily."
A familiar warmth simmered between your hips, spreading down your legs and up your chest.
"Please," you gasped.
You wouldn't be able to hold it this time—not that you were ever able to hold it back. Whenever the feeling came upon you, it did so without remorse. It built like a storm in your veins, slowly at first, and would release all at once. Bellamy knew this, so when he felt your walls starting to grip his fingers tighter, when he felt them flutter, and when he saw the tell-tale signs etched upon your face, he stopped.
He kept his fingers buried in your pussy, right down to the knuckle, and lifted his thumb from your throbbing clit. He kissed you softly and, oh, so sweetly, swallowing the sob that bubbled past your lips.
"Not yet, pretty girl."
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gf2bellamy · 11 days ago
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hi!! i love ur writing style, idk how to describe it except it’s so soft and warm 🫶🏽 could i request something for bellamy? reader sort of knew bellamy on the ark. she ran away from the dropship on day one and survived on her own, maybe befriending some grounders in secret. either end of season one or season 2 bellamy sees her in the woods and recognizes her, maybe he convinces her to come back
thank you!
decision — bellamy blake
pairing: bellamy blake x reader ( no use of y/n) content warnings: hunting , mention of death , mention of a grounder's attack , mention of being injured a/n: thank you so so much for requesting !!! <333 loved the idea and i hope you enjoy this and it's how you imagined it :) sorry if it's too long😭
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You sat around the fire, the flickering flames casting long shadows across your face. The crackling of the wood was steady, rhythmic, almost hypnotic, but your thoughts were anything but calm. It was one of those nights—the kind where your mind betrayed you with endless "what ifs." What if things had gone differently? What if you’d made a different choice? Every "if" inevitably circled back to him. 
Bellamy Blake. 
The Bellamy who had saved your life more than once. Tonight, the memories weighed heavy on you, a familiar ache settling in your chest as you stared into the fire. 
Your mind drifted back to the Ark, to the first time you’d crossed paths with him. You’d snuck out after curfew that night, unable to bear the stifling walls of the Ark for a second longer. Sometimes the constant noise, the glaring artificial lights, the unrelenting pressure—it was all too much. 
You’d discovered a quiet spot months before, a secluded corner no one seemed to know about. It had become your sanctuary, the only place where you could breathe without feeling like the walls were closing in. 
But that night was different. Even as you crept through the dimly lit corridors, something in the pit of your stomach told you not to go. 
It was just a whisper, a tiny nudge of unease, but you ignored it. Maybe if you hadn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here now, heart aching, staring at the fire as memories clawed at you. 
The moment came rushing back, vivid as if it had happened yesterday. 
You’d rounded a corner near your secret spot, your footsteps light on the metal grates, when a figure suddenly loomed in front of you. You froze, your breath catching in your throat. For a moment, neither of you moved, both startled by the unexpected encounter. 
The boy in front of you was tall, his posture tense but not threatening. His hair was slicked back with a bit too much gel, though stray curls rebelliously escaped at the sides. Freckles dotted his face, a contrast to the sharpness of his dark eyes, which were locked on you now. 
"What are you doing out here?" His voice was low, edged with a warning but not unkind. 
You’d scrambled for an excuse, something that didn’t sound as weak as the truth: that you were overwhelmed, that you needed a moment to escape the suffocating monotony of life on the Ark.  
“Uhm…” The word barely escaped your lips, your voice faltering as you struggled to form a coherent response. Your eyes darted to the jacket he was wearing—the unmistakable symbol of authority, the mark of a guard. Panic rose swiftly in your chest, a tidal wave threatening to drown you. 
Your mind raced, piecing together just how reckless you’d been. Sneaking out after curfew was one thing, but getting caught? By a guard? You might as well have signed your own death sentence. The weight of that realization hit you hard, and you froze, rooted in place as fear coiled tightly around your throat. 
The boy in front of you—no, not a boy, a guard—seemed to notice your unease. His dark eyes flickered, softening slightly. His gaze wasn’t cruel or cold like you might have expected, but concerned, curious. He stepped closer, cautiously, his movements deliberate so as not to startle you. 
“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, his voice low and steady. He hesitated, glancing around the corridor as though to ensure no one else was there. When he looked back at you, his expression was conflicted, his jaw tense as if he was weighing a decision in his mind. Finally, he spoke again, softer this time. “Just… go back. I won’t say anything.” 
His words stunned you. You’d braced yourself for the worst—an alarm, a punishment, something. But this? This was unexpected. 
Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. You wanted to thank him, or at least say something to convey your gratitude, but the fear was still too raw, too suffocating. All you could do was nod shakily, your legs moving on instinct as you turned and walked away. 
Behind you, Bellamy stood frozen, watching you retreat down the dimly lit corridor. His heart was pounding, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. 
Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the quiet realization that he’d just risked everything for someone he didn’t even know. 
As he lingered there, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about Octavia. The same fear that consumed him every day—the fear of losing her, of her secret being exposed—was what had driven his decision just now. 
Helping you had been instinctive, almost reflexive, as though saving you might somehow make up for the guilt and anxiety that gnawed at him every second of every day. At least tonight, he’d saved someone. At least tonight, he’d done something right. 
Now, on the ground, with the fire crackling before him, those memories felt closer than ever. Bellamy stared into the flames, his mind drifting to that night and to you.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze lifting to the stars above. Somewhere out there, you were still alive. At least, he hoped you were. He didn’t know why you’d left the camp—what had driven you away—but it didn’t stop him from missing you. From wondering. 
You were startled by the sound of footsteps, then a soft voice above you. “Hey, don’t you want to go to sleep?” 
Looking up, you saw Andria standing there, her expression gentle but curious, a small smile playing on her lips. The firelight danced across her face, illuminating her dark hair and the faint streaks of paint she always wore—a mark of her people, her identity. 
Andria was the first face you’d seen after you left the camp, wandering aimlessly through the woods, unsure of where you were going or what you were even looking for. She had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, cautious but kind. 
Despite your initial hesitation—and hers—it hadn’t taken long for her to extend a hand, guiding you to her village. That had been weeks ago, but the memory of her quiet strength still lingered in your mind. 
You smiled faintly, shaking your head. “Not yet. Just… thinking.” 
Andria chuckled softly, lowering herself onto the log beside you. “You think a lot,” she said, her tone light but laced with curiosity. “About what?” 
Your eyes flicked to the fire, the orange embers glowing against the darkened sky. “Everything. If I made the right choice. If this is where I’m supposed to be.” 
Andria tilted her head, her smile fading into something more thoughtful. “Do you think it’s not?” 
You hesitated, unsure how to answer. The village was good to you. They’d welcomed you, even though the start had been rocky. You could still remember the wary glances, the whispers in a language you didn’t yet understand. Some had questioned Andria’s decision to bring you there, an outsider with no tribe and no claim. But slowly, over time, the skepticism had faded. You’d learned their ways, earned their trust. 
Life here was quieter than the chaos of the camp or the ark. It was simpler. And yet, there were moments when your thoughts drifted back to the people you’d left behind, to the firelit nights and familiar voices. 
To him. 
“It’s not that I don’t like it here,” you said finally, your voice soft. “It’s just… sometimes I wonder.” 
“Wonder about what?” 
Your chest tightened. About who, you thought but didn’t say. About Bellamy. About what he’d think if he knew you’d found a life here, one that didn’t include him. 
Andria’s gaze remained steady, and for a moment, it felt like she could see right through you. She had a way of making you feel seen, even when you didn’t want to be. 
“You’re allowed to wonder,” she said after a long pause. “That doesn’t mean you don’t belong.” Her tone was firm but kind, the words grounding you in a way you didn’t expect. 
You nodded slowly, letting her words sink in. It had been a long time since you’d felt like you belonged anywhere. Maybe she was right. Maybe this was enough. 
The fire cracked loudly, sending a small shower of sparks into the air. Andria glanced at it briefly before standing, brushing off her hands. “Get some rest,” she said, her voice softening. “Tomorrow’s another day. Plenty of time to think more then.” 
The next morning, sunlight filtered through the thin fabric of your tent, waking you gently. You stretched and rubbed your eyes, only to hear a familiar voice calling your name. 
“Hey, you awake?” 
Caro poked his head inside, grinning widely. He was one of the first grounders to truly warm up to you, his easygoing nature making it impossible not to like him. He was younger than Andria, with an almost boyish charm that reminded you of the friends you once had back on the ark. 
“You want to hunt with me today?” he asked, already holding his bow. 
You smiled and nodded, grabbing your own gear. Hunting was something you were still getting the hang of, but with Caro’s patience—and a fair bit of teasing—you were improving. 
The two of you set off, the village quickly disappearing behind you as you ventured into the dense woods. The ground was soft underfoot, leaves crunching faintly with every step. 
After a time, you noticed Caro’s pace quicken, his movements more purposeful. It wasn’t the usual meandering route he took while tracking. 
“Where are we going?” you asked, curiosity creeping into your voice. 
He turned to you with a grin. “I thought I’d show you my favorite spot,” he said, his tone bright with excitement. “It’s the best place for hunting. I’ve caught rabbits, wild turkeys—oh, and once, I even took down a buck there.” He started rambling about his past hunts, his enthusiasm infectious. 
You followed him, smiling at his stories, until he abruptly halted. He crouched low, scanning the trees ahead, before notching an arrow and shooting into the air with practiced precision. A bird fluttered down a few moments later, and he picked it up with a satisfied smirk. 
“Your turn,” he said, stepping aside to give you room. 
You tried your best to replicate his movements, drawing your bowstring tight and aiming at a bird perched on a branch. But your arrow veered wildly off course, snapping against a tree trunk instead. 
Caro laughed, a loud, carefree sound that made your cheeks burn. “Not bad,” he teased, though his tone was far too amused for your liking. 
Grumbling, you muttered, “You’re scaring away all the animals anyway.” 
He raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. “Fine, fine. You want to try your luck alone?” 
You nodded. “I’ll meet you back at the fire by sunset.” 
“Deal. Don’t get lost,” he added with a wink before turning to disappear into the trees. 
You rolled your eyes and set off in the opposite direction, determined to catch something on your own. The forest felt different when you were alone—quieter, yet somehow more alive. You could hear the rustle of leaves, the distant call of birds, and the faint trickle of a nearby stream. 
It was peaceful. Or at least, it was—until a sudden crackling sound behind you shattered the calm. 
Your heart leapt into your throat as you spun around, your bow instinctively raised. But the sight in front of you stopped you cold. 
Bellamy Blake was standing there. 
Your breath caught. For a moment, you thought you might be imagining him. He looked almost the same as you remembered, though his curls were wilder now, his face bloody, his clothes worn and dirty from life on the ground. His dark eyes locked on yours, wide with surprise. 
You lowered your bow slowly, unable to speak. 
You stared at him, frozen, your breath caught in your throat. Before you could even think of what to say, Bellamy stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you in the tightest hug you’d ever felt. 
Your bow slipped from your hand, clattering to the ground as his arms circled your waist, pulling you flush against him. His grip was firm, desperate, like he was afraid you might vanish if he let go. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, fast and erratic, as though he was holding back a flood of emotions. 
Your arms stayed at your sides, too stunned to move, too overwhelmed to react. But as the shock faded, the memories began to surface, crashing over you like waves. 
You remembered the night he didn’t rat you out. How it took three days of gathering your courage to finally approach him, to thank him properly. You’d stammered through your words, but Bellamy had just smirked, brushing it off like it was nothing. 
You remembered how, after that, it felt like fate kept pulling you together. You’d bump into him in the halls, in the cafeteria, even during the rare free moments you thought were yours alone. And then one day, he decided to sit with you at lunch. 
It had started slowly, cautiously. A shared table here, a few exchanged words there. But soon, you were spending almost every moment together. Those lingering glances had become harder to ignore, his dark eyes holding onto yours a little longer each time. And then there were the nights when he’d open up to you, sharing thoughts and secrets he told no one else, trusting you in ways that made your heart ache. 
He’d introduced you to Octavia eventually, his tone cautious, protective, but with a flicker of pride in his eyes. And you’d loved her instantly. 
But then Octavia was discovered. Bellamy had turned to you that night, his face a mask of grief and fury as he stood infront of you. He had hugged you just like this—so tightly you could barely breathe, as though he could shield himself from the pain by holding onto you. 
And now, in this moment, it was the same. The same Bellamy, the same desperate need, the same unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. 
You felt your throat tighten as your hands moved almost involuntarily, slowly wrapping around him. His breath hitched when you returned the embrace, and for a moment, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his curls brushing against your skin. 
“You’re alive,” he whispered, the words trembling with relief. “You’re actually alive.” 
His voice broke something in you. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed him until now. 
“I’m here,” you murmured, your voice quiet but steady. “I’m here, Bellamy.” 
For a while, neither of you moved, the forest fading into the background. It was just the two of you.
When he finally pulled back, his hands lingered on your waist, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to commit every detail to memory. “I thought I’d never see you again,” he admitted, his voice raw. “I thought—” He broke off, swallowing hard. 
“I’m sorry,” you said softly, the words feeling inadequate but true. 
His hands gently cupped your cheek, the touch so familiar that it sent a rush of emotions flooding through you. A small, relieved smile curved his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes—there was still that shadow of disbelief in them. 
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he mumbled, his voice thick with emotion. 
You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his touch linger, and fought the urge to crumble. The feeling of his hands on your skin felt like home, like it had always been this way. 
You hated how easily you slipped back into the rhythm of his presence, how it felt like you were ready to drop everything and stay with him, to forget about everything that had changed. 
But no. You couldn’t. You had made your choice. You were different now. 
With a deep breath, you took a small step back, distancing yourself from him, and his hand slowly fell from your cheek, then your waist. 
“Bellamy, you’re hurt,” you said softly, your gaze falling on his face. Blood streaked across his skin, a grim reminder of what he had just endured. 
His expression faltered as if he had only just realized the pain. He blinked, shaking his head slightly as the reality of what had happened seemed to sink in again. 
“The... the grounders attacked us,” he said, his voice distant for a moment, like he was still grappling with everything that had unfolded. 
He met your eyes again, his gaze searching you, as if trying to make sense of everything, trying to understand how you fit into all of this. “How are you alive?” he asked, his voice hoarse. 
You looked away, your heart pounding. The question stung, pulling you back to the harsh reality of why you were here. You reached down and grabbed your bow from the ground, the motion mechanical, something to ground you in the present. 
“I’m staying with...” You hesitated, the words coming out reluctantly, but you had to say them. “...Grounders.” 
Bellamy’s face tightened at the mention of the people who had just attacked his camp. You could see the battle inside him—the conflict between the bitter reality of what had happened and the relief of finding you alive, the person he had risked so much to protect. 
His eyes narrowed slightly as he processed your words, the weight of the situation settling on his shoulders. “You’re staying with them?” He shook his head, like he couldn’t quite reconcile the idea. “After everything that happened?” 
You understood the confusion in his voice. To him, the grounders were the enemy. They were dangerous. They had attacked his camp, his family. And yet here you were, standing in front of him, alive, having made a life with them. 
But then, as if he realized something, his expression softened just a fraction. Those same grounders, the ones he had been fighting against, had saved you. You could see the internal battle play out in his eyes. 
He wanted to be angry, to demand you come back with him, but there was something else there too—something softer, something that had always been there, despite the wars between them. 
He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Will you come back?” 
The question took you completely by surprise. Your mouth opened in shock as you stared at him, unsure if you’d heard him right. “What?” 
“Will you come back?” he repeated, his dark eyes softening, his tone quieter, almost pleading. His gaze lingered on you, taking in your state. He hadn’t expected this reunion, not like this, and yet here you were, standing in front of him, alive, and still so close to his heart. 
You felt torn. You’d spent so long trying to distance yourself from the camp, from the chaos of it all. You had found a place for yourself among the grounders, a place where you could breathe, where you could exist without constantly being on edge. 
But looking at him, seeing the way he was looking at you now, you realized just how deeply you still cared for him, how much a part of you still longed to go back to the life you had once known. 
Bellamy was still watching you, his eyes searching yours for any sign, any hint of an answer. His fingers twitched at his sides, as if he was ready to reach out to you again, to pull you back into his arms, to make everything right again. 
You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat choking your voice. You wanted to say something, anything that would make sense, but your emotions were so tangled, so raw. 
“I...” You hesitated, the words tangled in your throat. “Bellamy, I can’t just... I can’t go back like it’s nothing.” 
He gently cupped your face again, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones, grounding you. “I don’t care about any of that,” he whispered. “I care about you. I always have. You’re the one I need, not some camp or some war. Just you.” 
His words broke through the walls you had built around yourself, and in that moment, you realized just how much you had wanted to hear them. The realization hit you like a wave—he hadn’t changed. 
He was still the Bellamy you had once trusted with your life, the same one who had fought for you, who had kept you safe even when the world seemed to be against you. 
You closed your eyes for a brief moment, letting his words sink in. You could feel his warmth, his presence surrounding you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel so lost. 
Maybe you didn’t have all the answers. Maybe things would never go back to the way they were. But in this moment, you knew one thing for sure—Bellamy Blake was still the person you needed, even after all this time. 
Finally, you looked at him again, your eyes meeting his with the certainty you hadn’t felt in so long. “Okay,” you whispered. 
Bellamy’s face broke into a relieved smile, and for the first time since you’d seen him, the tension in his shoulders eased. 
It wasn’t going to be easy. It wasn’t going to be perfect. But maybe, just maybe, you could still find a way to make it work—together. 
And as Bellamy pulled you into another embrace, this one filled with more hope than before, you allowed yourself to finally believe that there was still something worth fighting for. 
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sleepyangelkami · 3 months ago
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Would you write John Murphy from the 100?
BOY FROM THE SKY j.murphy
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𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 2.5K
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JOHN MURPHY X FEM!READER
𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - you and your parents live in a cottage in the woods, what happens when they return from hunting one day with a boy, battered and bruised, claiming he'd fallen from the sky?
 𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - minor blood + gore, (1) use of y/n, shy!reader, acid fog, panic attack, swear word(s), petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷
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living in the woods wasn't as isolated as it seemed. you rather liked where you lived, the peace in it. besides, you'd never known anything else.
it was just you and your parents, it always bad been. you often had visitors, people from clans all throughout the forest, but they were allies to your family now, peace being served between you all.
your hands brushed against the ceramic plates, wiping them clean when you heard commotion from outside the cottage. your parents had been on a run, hunting for food while you stayed behind. they never trusted you enough to go out by yourself.
you found yourself following the noise but you didn't get far, eyes widening as your father burst open the door, he and your mother supporting a boy from either arm, limp as they dragged him. "what are you doing?" you mumbled, following them as they lifted him towards the bathroom.
blood followed in a trail.
"y/n, get the medical supplies, now." you wasted no time in fleeing the room, hands pushing at drawers until you found the medical supplies you needed. your parents were waiting for you as you passed them the things they needed, stepping back to watch.
you didn't speak to people outside the cabin, that was your parents job but watching him, a new soul standing inside your bathroom was certainly a sight to scare. "come here, put pressure on his stomach with this cloth." you did as your mother told you, gently placing your hands against the white cloth, now stained crimson.
"who... who is he?" your voice croaked, turning to your father who was putting rubbing alcohol in his arm.
"john. murphy. most people just call me murphy, though." your eyes widened as they turned back to the boy. seeing as his eyes were lolled closed and his head was leaning down, you assumed he'd been passed out but he looked back up at you, with low red eyes and a hazy memory. "what's the problem? not a fan of blood?" he could feel your hands shaking against his wound, doing everything in your power not to look down.
thankfully, your mother answered for you, unaware of how your jaw was glued in the one place, unable to move. "she's terrified of it." answering shortly. "i got it." your mother moved your hands away and let her own hands take over.
you stepped backwards, almost tripping over your own two feet. watching the stranger in the bathroom with your parents working on his wounds was enough to make you feel hazy too. "what can i do to help?" you mumbled, voice low and quiet.
murphy decided then that you resembled a flower, not a sunflower or anything so bright, but a delicate one, a white tulip, perhaps. he gave you a funny smile. "don't suppose you guys have coffee, here, do you?"
that was the first time you'd ever met john murphy. he soon became much more than a stranger.
he became sort of like a 'second' as the grounders would call it, to your parents. he did as much as he could to repay them for their kindness. you never really asked him much about himself, squeaking and hiding every chance you got. living out in the forest by yourself for your whole life, you got a little shy.
your parents were hunters but also searching for a better place to live, the cabin only provided so much security. often, they'd leave for weeks at a time leaving you in the cabin alone. they never had to worry though, because you always kept things under control. but this time... you had someone to stay with you, though you could hardly call them a friend if you couldn't look him in the eye.
it was late at night, your parents had only left that morning and you were in the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water. you were dressed in tattered pale blue sleep shorts with a ragged white henley on top.
you were under the impression that you were in the kitchen alone, that was until the door slammed rather harshly. a squeak fell from your lips as you gripped the glass in your hand tighter as to keep it from falling. your wide eyes glanced forward to see murphy, grimacing at the sound. "sorry." he uttered. "i didn't mean to scare you."
you inhaled softly. "you didn't." but your shaking voice and nervous shuffle said otherwise.
murphy still eyed you, unconvinced. he'd made it his job to be extra careful around you. he could tell from your nervous jitters that you were rather shy and the last thing he wanted was to make you feel uncomfortable in your own home.
"looks like we had the same idea." he joked, pouring himself a glass of water too.
your eyes nervously looked at him. it was easier to look at him when he wasn't looking at you, and right now his eyes were trained on the rounded kitchen table.
his skin looked less battered and bruised than it did before. the bruises still lingered but the cuts were almost gone. "your wounds look better."
and thank god for that, the sight of his wounds had made you a little on edge. "that mean you can finally look me in the eye now?"
murphy knew as soon as the words left his lips that he shouldn't have said anything. when speaking to you, you adverted your eyes as quickly as you could, never making eye contact. your fingers would fiddle with themselves and you'd dig the tip of your foot into the mud beneath your shoes.
always so nervous.
"sorry." you mumbled, cheeks turning warm. "i'm just..."
"shy?" he practically answered for you, watching you catch your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. "i get it."
your eyes caught to his dark blue ones and you tried to keep your face from getting hot. "goodnight, murphy." setting your glass in the sink and making your way towards the door.
"goodnight, sweetheart." the minute it left his lips, he knew it was too late to take back.
he watched as your cheeks turned to flames and your eyes widened even larger. you quickly scurried out of the room and he bit his lip, rolling his own eyes and wondering how he could be so stupid.
it wasn't as if he hadn't meant to call you such a name. he just wished he'd gotten the chance to be more gentle with it, to ease you into the idea.
you already seemed nervous before, he could only imagine you now.
however, as the sun rose again by morning, you didn't seem to want to leave his side. he was unsure what had changed within the night but he shrugged it off, not wanting to ruin the moment.
"it's nice out today, don't you think?" you see, you'd spent all your time with him all day but you hadn't exactly spoke much. murphy was chopping wood with the spare axe your father always used. he wiped a hand across his forehead and looked up at the blazing sun.
you just nodded silently, glancing around at the pretty flowers that were beginning to bloom. "spring's one of my favourite seasons." you admitted in a low mumble.
murphy's eyes turned to you, watching you at your seat on top of one of the wood logs, swaying your feet back and forth. "yeah? why's that?" using the axe to swing onto another piece of wood. they were already chopped into cylinders but they were too big to fit in the fire place.
"i like the flowers." it was only now that he realised there was a little flower crown sitting in your lap, you were adding the last few daisies. "i think peonies are my favourite but i've never seen one in real life."
most of your life was measured in books and pictures, it wasn't like you had many people to keep you company before, to tell you their own stories. aside from your parents, that is.
"you will." your eyes glanced up, hearing the sincerity in his voice. he'd placed the axe against the ground and picked up the now separated log pieces. "someday."
"how do you know?" you questioned in the sweetest tone he'd ever heard as you connected the flower crown into exactly what it was supposed to be.
the ghost of a smile on your lips was enough to have him do the same.
but the sound of a horn stopped him from answering your question.
a cold fear suddenly fell over you. you knew what the sound of the horn meant.
acid fog.
your wide eyes turned to murphy, standing as you dropped the flower crown onto the log you'd been using as a seat.
"shit." the boy mumbled, dropping the wood against the grass and turning to look at the cabin.
you were too far away from it, you'd never make it in time, the acid fog would get there quicker. "what do we do?" your worried voice caught his ears and he could see pure terror etched to your face, inching closer to him.
"it's okay, it's okay, c'mere." he pushed his hand out, wavering you forward and you merely clutched the hem of your dress between your fingers, eyes looking past the meadow. "c'mere, angel, i've got you."
you were too far from home.
it was one of the main reasons that you hated leaving home. you could never be prepared, not all the way out here.
however, you complied anyway, putting your life's trust in murphy as he suddenly clasped your hand, leading you the opposite way of your home.
"murphy? murphy, where are we going?" he could hear the horror slick in your voice, it was an unusual sound. there never was much emotion in your voice, as if you could only ever mumble.
the sound of you... fearful made his heart lurch. he suddenly wished he could take care of you in any way you needed, make sure you were never put in harms way again.
"'s okay, just follow me, i know a place." he turned behind him, knowing he shouldn't have looked back. he sucked in a breath of air at the sight of the airy yellow fog. "gotta pick up the pace, sweetheart." his voice suddenly panicked.
and you did just that.
murphy was faster, though, leading the way with your hand wrapped in his own. you ran until your calves burned, eyes widening when murphy suddenly stopped. but you didn't question him.
funnily enough, you trusted him.
and your parents must have trusted him too, leaving you alone with him.
he reached down, clearing the ground of leaves and sticks, a metal door was suddenly revealed. you looked at murphy with confusion. you'd lived here your entire life, how did he know more about this place than you did?
nonetheless, he ushered you inside. "there you go, atta girl." allowing you to walk down the narrow ladder and following you less than seconds later.
with no time to waste, the boy grabbed the handle of the door and slammed it shut, allowing the acid fog to travel through the air, passing over the bunker completely.
as your feet hit the ground, you instantly took in the bunker. it wasn't huge though it wasn't necessarily small either.
but you couldn't take notice of the things around, too focused on what was happening outside. your chest heaved, heavy breaths leaving your lips. though it felt like nothing was leaving you, as if you could only breathe in. there was too much inside of you.
your hand grasped at the nape of your neck, feeling all too overwhelmed.
this was the first time in your entire life that acid fog had hit when you were so far away from home.
"hey, hey, hey." murphy seemed to notice your panic. "you're okay, we're safe in here." even though you trusted him, you still couldn't seem to believe. not in him, no, just that anyone like you would get lucky. you hadn't experienced a day of luck in your life. "look at me." your watery eyes turned to him. "you're safe."
and suddenly the boy did something that nobody else had ever really done.
he took you in his arms, and he cradled you, hugging you close.
it took a moment, a beat of silence before your arms could wrap around his own body, a weight suddenly lifted off your shoulders. it was as if by embracing you, he took half of all that worry and knocked it off your shoulders. it didn't heal you completely, sure, but that was magic enough.
your breathing slowed and you felt the boy gently pull away from you, though his palms were still steady on your arms. "okay, angel?" you nodded, avoiding his eye. "good, c'mere."
the boy helped you sit on this mattress that lay in the corner of the room, tattered grey sheet laying on it and a single duvet, covered by a black cover. you glanced around the 'room', boxes and desks, little objects littering around the bunker. "did you stay here?" you questioned, turning to him. "before you found us?"
"for a bit." he shrugged. he was looking at you closely, eyeing you. it wasn't often that you could stare into his eyes and not back down. he wasn't going to give this up. "then i went back to my old group for a while and well, i guess... you saw how that turned out."
briefly, your mind travelled to the day he first came to your home, covered in bruises and blood.
they did that to him?
you weren't so sure, john murphy seemed to have a knack for trouble. but that was simply a question for another day.
the sound of wind gusting from above the bunker caused your eyes to snap up to the ceiling.
"you can relax." he spoke, a gentle hand comforting you against your thigh. the feeling was enough to excite something from you. "we're safe in here."
"okay." but your pitch was high and your voice was wobbly. you were never a good liar.
"hey, you know that flower crown you were making earlier?" you nodded in response, listening to his voice. you knew he was only trying to get you to stop thinking about the wind out there. but you couldn't help it, it appeared to be working. "think you could make me one too?"
"i don' know." you glanced down at your lap, hands fiddling with your own fingers. "they're not very good?"
"are you kidding me?" despite his words, his tone was soft, adoring even. "they're amazing. i need you to make me one."
you couldn't stop the gentle curve of your lips. "yeah?"
"yeah." he grinned, "we can wear them together. you know, like king and queen." he nudged your shoulder causing a giggle to leave your lips. he suddenly noticed you staring. "what?"
"nothing." you huffed out a laugh from behind your grin. "i just... guess i was hoping someone like you would come around and then you just... fell from the sky."
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main masterlist/murphy's masterlist
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anjellaufeyson · 11 months ago
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Hate with attraction - Bellamy Blake
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I hated Bellamy and despised him since the beginning. He always had to counter my arguments and disagree with me on every move I made. Every step I took–he criticized. The feeling of hatred was mutual, I never failed to return the remarks he made.
           Bellamy brushed past as if I weren't there, yet he still managed to whisper, “You're falling behind.” 
           I picked up my pace as we walked through the forest. The whole hunting group was filled with all my friends–besides Bellamy. I shoved him almost into a tree, “Catch up soldier boy.” 
My best friend, Octavia turned around while walking, and Bellamy glared at me. “I get Bellamy is an ass but why can't you guys just get along?”
I could feel his stare on me, “Your brother started it on day 1 of coming back to earth. The power must’ve gone to his hollow head, can’t say more than that–” My words were cut off at the sound of arrows flying past us. 
“Grounders,” Bellamy yelled. 
Clarke and Monty spread out of their spot because that’s where most of the fire was, “Guys we have to split up! We all have intercoms so once it’s safe we’ll come back together.” 
Octavia reached for my hand but missed me by a couple of inches, an arrow grazed my palm and cut me, “Just go,” I yelled. She ran away but was hesitant. I was about to reach for my gun before a hand stopped me–Bellamy. 
“We have time to run, don’t waste your bullets.”
I crouched down with him so no one gets hurt again, “If you keep ordering me around, I’m about to waste one.” 
He groaned as he grabbed me and we both made a run for it, “Keep this shit up and maybe I’ll throw you to the grounders.” 
I pushed him off me as we walked into a tiny cave for cover, “I’d rather be with them than you,” I mumbled. 
“What was that princess,” he asked knowing he heard every word I said. His anger was pissing me off. He ripped a part of his shirt off and began wrapping it around my cut.
“I hate when you call me that.” He only called me that because my father is Kane and he won’t let go that I’m “privileged” just like Clarke. “I didn’t make the rules on the ship, It’s not my fault that–”
He pulled hard on the tie he was making causing me to wince in pain, “Don’t finish that sentence.” Bellamy glanced up at me then annoyingly back at my cut as he wrapped it to perfection–I hated how good he was at helping when I needed it. “I know it’s not your fault but your father and every privileged person on that ship let her die for what reason? Because she had one more kid?” 
“You know the rules,” I spoke lowly. It was a sensitive topic and even though I hated his guts and wouldn’t mind if he got floated, I did sympathize. I never liked what happened and the fact no one could have siblings. “The more space taken by more kids would’ve left us overpopulated Bell–” I paused when talking, his nickname Octavia slipped out so easily. 
He looked up at me whilst still holding my hand even though the t-shirt bandage was as good as it was going to get. “I’m sorry she was floated, but it was the rules. And you know the Ark was already overpopulated enough. That’s why they sent us down here in the first place, the stupid 100 who had to risk their criminalistic lives for the others.” This topic always got me upset, not sad but mad. My father, Jaha, and Clarke's mom, Abby, were all willing to risk our lives as if we were all test subjects. 
“We mean nothing to them, that’s why I was so hell-bent on making sure all of the 100 could survive.”
I rolled my eyes remembering this wasn’t a friend I was talking to, “No, Bellamy you wanted all of us to remove our locators so that you could make sure they didn’t come down here because your reckless ass shot Jaha. I understand it was for Octavia but don’t act as if you’re some hero.” 
He pressed down on my wound before dropping his hand, “I never said I was. You always think you’re better than me.” 
I went to punch Bellamy but he moved out of the way, I was always good at hand-to-hand, my father got me a trainer, one of the guards. I knew how to fight, shoot, plant, etc. I was built to survive as if he’s been planning this forever. I smiled as I ducked the attack he threw at me, “You can only stand your ground because of the training you and Lincoln did together.” I went to kick him but he caught my leg, kicks were the one thing I couldn’t get the hang of. 
“Learn to be faster, princess,” he had a tiny grin on his face as he twisted my leg so I was hopping. 
I’d never give him the satisfaction of beating me, I kicked my leg again and got out of his grip. I elbowed him and punched him. His lip began to bleed, he had a smile on his face as his finger touched his lip. “Better,” he whispered. 
I went to hit him again but he blocked it and turned me around and kicked behind my leg causing me to fall onto one knee. He grabbed my hair, not too rough to hurt me but enough to move my head so I’d look up at him. “Train more and maybe you’ll beat me.” 
Slowly I rose and hit him at his throat causing him to back up. Not hard enough to hurt him but enough so he’d fuck off. I regained enough strength to cause him to lose his balance, then I got him to hit his back onto the ground. I kept my knee on his chest as I looked down at him, “You’ll never beat me, Bellamy. And I don’t think I’m better than you–” Our breaths filled the cave, “I know I am.” 
I stayed with my knee on his chest until he gave me a look that I couldn’t comprehend. His lips parted and he moved in to kiss me. I don’t know why but I didn’t back away, I took my knee off of his chest slowly. His fingers slipped into my hair and he pulled me deeper in. He kissed me roughly and I could taste the hate he held for me. Then he pushed me with a betrayal of a smile, “Never let your guard down, princess.” 
I made myself look hurt, he stepped closer and I pulled him in for a kiss. He seemed hesitant but easily fell into it. I bit down on his lip causing him to wince in pain. He dragged his tongue along his bottom lip, blood was dripping more than before. 
I pushed him away from me, I hated him now more than before. But God, I’d kiss him again with hate once more if given the chance. “Never let your guard down, Bell.” 
Suddenly Octavia ran into the cave looking frantic, “Jesus, did the grounders attack you guys?” 
Bellamy and I shared a glance, I turned back to Octavia and smiled as if I wasn’t in pain. “No, no we made it out. Well not without one price to pay,” I said as I held my hand up. 
Octavia looked shocked, she now realized our words were no longer threats, they were promises. “Bellamy,” she said in confusion but also her annoyance was beginning to focus on both of us for being stupid enough to fight each other. “O,” he said while walking past her. I stopped walking so I could talk with Octavia. He turned to me and whispered, “Next time you won’t get off that easily.” I paused, next time?
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lets-try-some-writing · 4 months ago
Text
Emergency Protocols: To Preserve A Legacy
Optimus Prime has fallen, and now everyone must deal with the after effects of his sudden and horrific death. Knockout, unlike the rest of the Decepticons, has taken grim inspiration from the loss.
Part 1 here.
(Warning for robogore)
━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━
“This is an order! Every mech will travel in a group until further notice!” Megatron’s order rang out on the bridge, earning frantic nods of understanding from every single Vehicon present. Starscream in particular seemed keen to obey an order for once and almost instantly grabbed a few Vehicons to stay by his side.
Knockout watched quietly, his optics never once leaving the screen above Megatron’s helm.
“I don’t care what you are doing or what your orders are. If I catch anyone alone, there will be consequences.” Megatron all but growled as he glared down at every one of his soldiers. Knockout’s optics cycled in quiet interest at the sight, but he refused to look away from the screen and the beginnings of grotesque suffering playing on it.
“The Autobots have begun to fall. We cannot risk such a fate ourselves.” The warlord’s words were frighteningly shaky as a video played on screen. It was a recording obviously taken by Soundwave, or perhaps Laserbeak. Whatever the case, it projected a scene of true horror.
Optimus Prime wailed in agony, his frame tearing itself apart as buds began to form all over him. One on each limb, and two great ones on his chassis and jetpack. He tore himself to pieces, ripping off armor and frantically screeching as his frame cannibilized itself to produce six new lives. That was a new record, at least in modern documentation. The largest recorded budding only produced five newbuilds. How very Optimus of him.
“Prime succumbed, and if a mech as mighty as him fell, any one of us is just as likely to suffer a similar end.” The recording zoomed in on Optimus’s expression of sheer agony as he tried to crawl on mutilated limbs. If things were different, Knockout might have gagged as he watched the Prime convulse, wheeze, and then fall still while whatever remained of him was consumed by his unwanted offspring.
As it was, Knockout found himself more intrigued than afraid, especially as the recording showed the six that came from the fallen Prime. Five of them were flight frames, an incredible oddity considering Optimus was, up until his reforging, a grounder. The sixth was the one that really caught his attention. The newbuild had Optimus’s structure, tapered waist, and overall build. But they had an interesting series of differences, a few of which felt vaguely familiar.
“Be wary! And never find yourselves alone! Until we can confirm that none of our number are liable to succumb to this brutality, this ship is on lockdown.” With a final wave of his servo, Megatron marched off, likely to hound Soundwave about something or other. The Vehicons filed off eventually, most huddled in groups of five or more to limit their fear. A few attempted to gather around Knockout, but he waved them off.
He didn’t want companionship. He had other plans.
Making his way back to the medical bay, Knockout quietly shut the door behind him and locked it. He settled at his console, tapping the device thoughtfully as he pulled up the recording of Optimus Prime’s final moments all over again. He really should have been disgusted or upset with what he was going to be seeing, but after so much loss, it was more interesting than anything else. Eventually, the Decepticons would have someone end up budding. After all, one budding meant that the situation was dire. Dire circumstances induced panic, and panic tended to make budding happen in other subjects even if their numbers were acceptable.
Stress was bound to get to them. After all, activation of the protocols needed for budding only required a deep sense of loneliness and isolation. If the crew felt that they were alone, those who were capable of budding were likely going to begin expiring one after another. The Vehicons would be fine, largely since they were the result of budding and cold forging. Empurata victims were incapable of budding since the entire section of their processor devoted to registering emotional distress was deactivated, so Shockwave would be fine. Beastformers tended to take longer to start budding, meaning that Arachnid would be alright on her own for a while. The same went for the Insecticons and the Predacons.
That left high command of both the Autobots and the Decepticons. Optimus had already keeled over, and considering how traumatic and sudden it was, Knockout didn’t doubt that someone else would follow after him. Probably Ratchet or the Prime’s unofficial ward. 
One by one, the shock and horror would get to all of them, regardless of faction.
They were well and truly slagged. Sooner or later, all the big players in the war would combust into several smaller and inexperienced idiots who would, inevitably, end the war at some point. Be it through extinction or peace, it wasn’t really important. Knockout personally had no desire to live in a world or on a restored Cybertron with a bunch of framewalkers who looked far too similar to old friends and foes for his liking. It all seemed so pointless. 
He was tired. That was the only way he had to describe the sheer apathy burning in his spark. Breakdown, his other half, was gone, taken by enemies who were now long dead and dispersed. There were no more victors to join, not when everyone would quickly be put on even ground once old grudges joined their holders in the grave. There was no point to all of it anymore. What did he have to gain from trudging ever onward? A restored homeworld? Sure, that might be nice for a grand total of five kliks, but it wouldn’t be the same without proper closure or Breakdown.
“If we’re all doomed anyway, we might as well make the most of it.” He grumbled, taking great care to not rub his face and ruin the polish, even though exhaustion weighed on him. They were all going down, so why not try and make it somewhat meaningful? Budding was a process that had not been properly studied since the Quintessons ruled. It either happened in private or it was so sudden that no real documentation could be made. Case point: Optimus’s spontaneous and gruesome death.
If he was going to die, he wanted to leave something behind and perhaps even secure his legacy with something important.
“Show me what you’ve got, sweet rims.” He pressed play on the video, leaning back in his chair as he sighed and observed Optimus’s final moments. He had to watch it three or four times before he became desensitized enough to actually start making note of things of interest, but he got there after a few sessions of wretching into his disposal unit.
Optimus’s early symptoms began with itching and, from the looks of it, twitchyness and emotional turmoil. That seemed about right overall. Then it seemed that as the budding began, tearing off armor was an instinctual response meant to allow the buds to grow without hindrance. The spine tearing out of the back appeared to just be a side effect of one of the buds developing in that location, as bones and other skeletal structures also tore free where buds developed on the Prime’s body. 
The malformation didn’t appear to be a necessary part of the process, but one that Optimus unfortunately endured due to the sheer number of buds on him. The buds themselves sucked protomatter right out of their host by liquidizing the host’s internals. A lot was lost, as evidenced by Optimus quite literally being dismeboweled via his innards turning to goo and oozing out of him. Frankly, it seemed that the process was largely streamlined. Optimus was just an unfortunate victim of Primely fertility.
If he were back on Cybertron, he might have broken the record again by producing more due to his increased mass prior to their arrival on the mudball they currently called their battlefield.
“Noted. More buds equals more pain.” He tapped the console methodically, watching again and again as Optimus wailed and endured a fate far worse than most other forms of death. Knockout took notes meticulously, observing with silent interest as he watched the buds develop over and over again. The biggest of the lot caught his attention more than the others. That one was obviously a powerhouse in the making, having Optimus’s overall frame structure. But there was something about the new build—something unique.
Once he recorded everything he could from the video, Knockout turned to the database. His digits flew across the keys until he pulled up Optimus’s record. A few passwords later, and he was looking at sensitive data that was only tenuiously confirmed. The Prime’s history in the archives, embarrassing and noteworthy developmental milestones, but most importantly, his relationships.
Optimus only had one confirmed romantic partner. The depth of their relationship was not recorded, but there were enough indicators of a spark merge having been involved for Knockout to feel fairly confident calling them Conjunxes. With that in mind, he pulled up the video again on his second screen, zooming in on the largest of the newbuilds hovering around Optimus’s battered corpse. 
He looked at Elita-One’s picture and then at the newbuild. The similarities were obvious. The frame shape, the kibble placement, even the newbuild’s optics. All of them were similar to Elita. Had the spark merged influenced the budding to produce a newbuild that possessed Optimus and Elita’s traits?
“A spark merge affecting a newbuild... it’s certainly not impossible.” He tapped the console with more frequency as he considered the possibilities. If all of high command was going to keel over, Knockout most likely included, why shouldn’t he research the process? Why shouldn’t he make the most of it? For Optimus and Elita to have produced a bud that carried both their traits after what might have only been a single spark merge...
He stood up sharply, his optics widened as he glanced over at the single piece of Breakdown’s armor he’d taken from the corpse as a keepsake. It sat innocently on his shelf, a reminder of the loss and now a symbol of possible hope.
“One merge. It only took them one merge.” He reached out to collect the piece of armor, a dark plan forming in the back of his processor. He didn’t necessarily want to die, but it was going to happen anyway. Sooner or later, he’d drop dead and spawn something that was but an echo of himself. Why not die on his own terms? He could study the process of budding and, if things worked out, preserve Breakdown’s legacy as well.
He’d keep his reputation as Cybertron’s finest medic through his research, and he’d be able to honor his fallen partner before joining him. It saved him from having to go on endlessly without the mech he loved most, and it meant that all his loose ends would be neatly tied up. He wouldn’t have to live in a world not his own with mecha mimicking the dead.
It would be painful, but he could limit that to a certain extent. 
"Well, Breakdown, it seems I’ll be seeing you soon enough.” A grin wormed its way onto Knockout’s features as he laughed and carried the piece of plating over to his workbench. There was much to do, and considering the panic amongst the crew, very little time.
“Lord Megatron, I’ll be performing a little analysis on some sensitive material over the course of the next deca-cycle or so. Don’t worry if I’m unavailable; my research will prove quite useful, I’m certain.” He sent his message to Megatron with quiet glee as he settled at his workbench. He had preparations to see to and he couldn’t afford an interruption. Not now.
“All alone now. It’s just us, Breakie.” Tapping the piece of plating, Knockout laughed again before gathering his determination to drop the piece into a vat. He placed the vat into one of his extractors and stepped back, looking over himself and his medical bay. While CNA was being extracted from Breakdown’s plating, Knockout could begin his real work.
He spent a whole cycle thinking through Optimus’s fate and preparing for every eventuality. He methodically, albeit with much chagrin, removed his outer armor. He would rather not endure the pain of ripping it all off in a frenzied madness and so opted to skip that step altogether. Once that was all removed, he began preparing various painkillers of different doses. Too much at one time might have a negative effect on himself or his spawn, so a gentle ramping up of the solution would be necessary. The finished solutions were left near the medical berth, ready to be used.
For good measure, he adjusted the straps on the medical berth to activate the moment he laid down and to deactivate once his vitals dropped beyond a certain threshold. He couldn’t risk the buds, not when they were going to be so vital to his goals.
“As much as I pride myself on my finish, I do think you’ll forgive me this once for not sporting the red you adored so much.” Knockout found himself laughing more and more in the quiet of his medical bay by just the second cycle of work. He had gone to great pains to continually keep himself from heading out for any reason, and so far it seemed to be working. He could feel a faint tingle underneath his plating.
He wasn’t quite sure if it was nerves getting to him or not, but as he handled a full vial of Breakdown’s CNA, he reassured himself of his goal. He was going to do this and document the whole affair.
This was fine. He was going to be fine. He wanted this. He’d get to see Breakdown again.
Right?
“Breakdown, I hope you aren’t going to be too upset. I’m doing this for both of us.” He spoke into the open air, quietly and with more than a little hesitance. It took all of his mental fortitude to keep it together when Megatron called him.
“Knockout, what in the Unmaker’s name are you doing?” The warlord’s glyphs were harsh and layered with over a dozen vaguely fearful undertones. Knockout would have grinned, but he couldn’t blame Megatron for being afraid. Optimus was dead. The Prime of Cybertron was not only gone, but the first to have perished. In a way, Knockout envied him. To be the first meant Optimus didn’t have to watch everyone crumble around him.
“Lord Megatron, as I stated in my previous message, I am working on something of incredible importance. Don’t worry your pretty little helm about it. The experiment shall conclude in a few cycles, just as planned.” He kept up his usual attitude of cockiness as he stared at scans he’d taken of his frame. According to what his machinery was gathering, his frame was starting to swell in places, small pockets of protomatter less than an inch in side, all forming one by one all over him like organic skin pores.
It was rather disgusting to think about it in that light.
“Do you have assistants with you? I will not risk this vessel’s only medical expert offlining.” Knockout fought back a scoff as he held the vial of Breakdown’s extracted CNA. He fiddled with the container, smiling as he replied.
“Of course. I have my most trusted assistant right by my side.” Megatron made a noise of agreement before shutting down the comm link. Knockout leaned against his console, fondling the vial a while longer as he looked up at his scans. 
Soon. Very soon.
The cycles wore on, and as they did, Knockout dutifully documented the changes. His need for fuel had drastically decreased, a sign of his frame preparing for something or other. Additionally, he was recharging more and more often and for longer periods of time. A certain level of lethargy hung in his limbs, making it difficult for him to continually make note of his circumstances and not leave his medical bay despite how much base instinct tried to get him to move and go toward where he knew there were others.
Megatron bothered him every now and then, but Knockout was quite skilled at keeping his tone even. The warlord suspected nothing, just like Knockout wanted. This was meant to be special—just him and Breakdown. He didn’t want his boss to come kicking the door down in an attempt to stop what had already begun and ruin the significance of it all.
“Till all are one... you know, Breakdown, I never really believed in that lovely quote from the Primacy. But I think it makes more sense now that we’re going to make something beautiful together.” He was tired, so very tired. But looking into the faint blue glow of the vial containing all that was left of his other half, Knockout found something akin to peace settling in his spark. His frame ached, but soon everything would be better.
“I miss when you held me in your arms and complimented my features. I don’t think I ever told you that the reason I kept up the red was because you liked it so much.” Leaning back in his chair, Knockout held the vial to his chassis, closing his optics in order to pretend that somehow, through some miracle, Breakdown was with him. He imagined firm servos on his shoulders, massaging tense cables and helping him unwind after a long cycle. 
Fond memories supplied him with a cheerful laugh filled with nothing but adoration as he and Breakdown playfully bantered, exchanging gossip like there wouldn’t be consequences if they were caught distracted. He recalled all their frantic couplings, never daring to risk taking too long to be one in mind and spark for fear of punishment. He wished he’d taken more time back then. He wished he’d savored the protective warmth of his companion’s spark brushing up against his own in the most intimate of kisses.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them from taking you.” Coolant gathered in his optics as his frame began to heat up in response to his unsettling emotional state. He felt the drops roll down his cheeks, but he didn’t wipe them away. He merely held the chilled vial close, desperately longing for a spark signature that was long gone. It was clinical, so very clinical... and there was no warmth to be found.
“I’m sorry, I’m too weak to go on without you. I know… I know you’d want me to live life to the fullest in your absence, but I can’t.” His composure cracked as he looked up at the ceiling, trying not to gaze around his medical bay in the vain hope that his beloved might still be there, gathering supplies or sorting through datapads on his behalf. 
He could hardly vent; it hurt so much.
“Not without you.” Primus was cruel to take a mech as good as Breakdown so soon.
The itching started around the fifth cycle of his isolation. It was faint at first, but then it grew more and more difficult to ignore. It felt like he was bloated, almost as if he had a series of microscopic tears in every single one of his fuel lines. He scratched without meaning to more often than not, and more than once he had to set his door to lock automatically to keep himself from running out.
Itching, itching, itching.
He wished Breakdown were there to caress his frame, chasing away the discomfort with loving touches and soothing words. For such a big mech, he was so very kind. 
But Breakdown was gone. He’d been gone for months now. All Knockout had left was a vial of his CNA. His forever’s final gift and remnant.
By the sixth cycle, taking decent notes was all but impossible. He settled on setting up a camera just above the medical berth for when he inevitably met his end. He was fidgety, itching, and nervous in a way he’d never been before. Sometimes he found himself pacing, muttering nonsense that he only managed to stop through sheer force of will.
The itch never stopped. 
Emotional codes became tangled and out of place. Priority calculations shifted and left him paranoid, leading Knockout to try and perform manual labor more than once before realizing he was out of his designated role. His protocols were blaring all the time, drowning out his vision with demands for him to find a group and to get to safety. He screamed at some point, clutching his helm and whimpering at how overwhelming it all was.
How had Prime dealt with it all before death all but snuck up on him?
On what he assumed was the seventh cycle, the itch turned to an infuriating burn. Clawing at his protoform and base armor wasn’t enough. It hurt, so much so that he could hardly see straight, much less make any logical decisions. All he had the strength to do was jab and IV with his painkillers into his arm and inject himself with Breakdown’s precious CNA before he collapsed onto his medical berth, the straps clamping down on his limbs.
The vial was discarded on the ground, empty, and used. Despite the fact that it no longer had anything of Breakdown left in it, Knockout wished he could hold it, if only to comfort himself as the pain increased.
Panic set in not long after the straps finished tightening. His venting hitched as the burn worsened. For a moment, he regretted every life decision he’d ever made, including his idiotic choice to go down in flames like he was taking one for the team. When had he ever been a team player? What the frag was wrong with him?
“Slag. This is going to hurt.” He winced, biting back a cry as he felt the first tears begin to form along his protoform. Optimus had skipped this part entirely, going straight for bone obliteration and internal shredding. Knockout almost wished he could do the same as cracks began running along his limbs, the angle of the medical berth letting him see how energon and protomatter started to swell in the wounds.
The painkillers were his salvation as he watched in grim fascination, observing as his very protoform bubbled as if an inflamed fuel line was growing and threatening to burst right beneath the surface layer of his very being. He bit his lower derma as his protoform continued to bulge, finally bursting in his legs and in his right arm. He didn’t dare cry out, instead forcefully silencing himself for as long as possible.
Screams would draw attention. Sound would ruin this precious moment between himself and what he was going to make. This was a family matter, his and Breakdown’s last gift to the world. It couldn’t be interrupted.
Cables burst, spurting energon that trickled down the medical berth and pooled on the ground beneath him. Wires and various connectivity tissues pulsed and all but slithered as the buds started to take shape. It hurt like slag, but it wasn’t as bad as it likely would have been without painkillers. The scene itself was still a work of horror, especially as the small mounds began to grow, their mass pushing aside everything else.
“Looks like at least one of these buds is going to turn out just like you, Breakdown! They’ve got your size already!” Knockout laughed, lost in medically induced mania as the bud on his left leg swelled and caused the entire limb to bloat. His pede shifted, deforming before snapping off entirely to allow the bud to consume the stump. Knockout did end up screaming as his bones snapped under the weight of the thing, every pain receptor in the limb activating in hot waves of agony.
The bone stuck out from his leg, jutting at an odd angle and glittering blue as if Primus himself had thrown some sort of polish on it. Knockout could see every single micro-connector within the broken skeletal structure, still pulsing with charge. The medic in him screamed, demanding he heal the wound. But he was well aware of his doom. The metal around his abdomen was already graying, a sign of severe energon loss.
There was no stopping it now.
The chorus of suffering was only added to as the two other buds performed similarly. The smaller one on his right leg bulged and crawled up his limb like mold, eating away at his plating with acidic effects that revealed delicate circitry that sizzled and popped as they were corroded. Knockout couldn’t have possibly predicted that outcome with how the bud on his left leg was acting. The one on his arm hurt the most, surprisingly. Knockout could hardly see through the coolant, causing his vision to become hazy, but he did note his digits doing the same thing that Optimus’s had before his death. They increased in size, the plating oozing with protomatter before cracking and all but exploding to make way for the bud.
The remnants of his digits were nothing more than thin skeletal bones connected only by tender ligaments, which had quickly begun to lose their strength. 
He shrieked as the painkillers were overridden by the sheer amount of torment assaulting him. There was no comfort to be found as he started to flail, composure fleeing him as he cried out for anyone to help him. He was sure he screamed for Breakdown most, but at some point he must have cried for someone else as well, because he started to hear murmurs outside his medical bay. A Vehicon must have noted his wails.
“Breakdown-!” He sobbed against his restraints, hardly able to watch as more and more parts of his very frame tore themselves apart. The buds did not climb higher than their sectioned limbs, but they consumed, ripped, and tore. There was so much blue. So much blue...
Crack after crack, cry after cry. It blended into a meaningless babble. 
At some point, the agony almost entirely ceased as weight dropped off Knockout like a heavy burden long forgotten. The straps holding him came undone, leaving him to lay there, bleeding out and struggling to keep his fans running. The relief he felt was palpable as he reveled in the lack of pain. Although the chill that crept into what remained of his frame did little to comfort him.
Once he’d cleared the coolant from his optics, he mustered the will to look toward the ground where the three buds floundered. The sticky mounds convulsed, thin stick-like limbs jutting out in almost spider-like fashion before more living metal could wreath the limb in musculature and mass. The things looked horrifying as faces tore themselves from the masses, gaping intakes and lightless optics appearing half melted before they convulsed a few more times and finally booted online.
Knockout’s venting slowed as energon loss began to set in. The painkillers were finally doing their slagging job, giving him a half-decent look at his spawn as they stood up one by one, looking over their frames with the innocence of the newly forged. The newbuilds were so very fascinating, so very... Breakdown, each in their own way.
“You are not supposed to be alive.” The biggest of the bunch, a heavy-set newbuild with a rounded helm structure and bright headlights already in formation, addressed Knockout quietly. There was no mockery, no insults, merely an observation. This was like him. Knockout could see it in the red optics that met his own. They were modeled just like Breakdown’s.
“Just had to make sure... that you lot carried Breakdown... in your CNA as well.” His voice came out as little more than a pitiful wheeze, but Knockout didn’t have the presence of mind of care as the other two stared at him. The smallest of the ground was also quite a bulky thing, another of Breakdown’s traits. They shone with gold optics, so reminiscent of his beloved.
“I don’t think you have to worry about that, originator.” The smallest one looked him up and down, likely assessing the horror that was Knockout’s devastated frame. He managed a grim laugh at that, even as his senses started to dull.
“You look just like him.” Knockout coughed up energon, his spark flaring painfully in remembrance as the last of the newbuilds waved to him shyly. The newbuild was blue and orange, looking almost exactly like his other creator in all but accenting paint and digits. He had Knockout’s claws, a fact that brought him no small amount of pride.
“You’ve done well, originator. Return to your Conjunx. We will take over from here.” The biggest of the newbuilds touched Knockout’s helm, caressing his helm crest and audials in a fond manner. His venting hitched again, this time in loss as he looked over all three of his spawn.
Breakdown would have been thrilled to meet them.
“Your… designations?” His vision started to fail him as he stared at the three. They shared a look, and then all of them smiled.
“Flatline of Knockout and Breakdown.” The largest answered first, bringing more tears to Knockout’s optics as he heard both his and his beloved’s designation. They were both honored here.
“Quickmix.” The smallest replied curtly, but they were kind enough to touch Knockout’s shoulder in their form of a silent goodbye. They reminded Knockout of himself when he was young. At least this one would have siblings to help them along.
“Wildbreak... of Knockout and Breakdown.” The last of the bunch uttered their name quietly, but with a hint of awe. Knockout couldn’t help but smile as his vision failed him and the touches of his three creations lingered on his frame.
This... this had been worth it.
“We did it… Breakdown.” His voice was lost as his hearing started to putter out. The last thing he heard was his door crashing down and the booming voice of Megatron echoing in his medical bay.
“KNOCKOUT-!”
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cozzzynook · 3 months ago
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Okay,hear me out: trinebee's younglings somehow time travel back in time to the middle of the war.
And bonus: since bee got sparked by a trine and he's a twin,it's a litter of kids,about seven.
Half the litter is found by the Decepticons and the other half are found by the Autobots. They're panicking of course,because even tho they're the cybertronian equivalent to an eleven year old they're pretty smart for they're age and can tell almost right away that while this is their planet,it isn't their time period.
The part of the litter that got nabbed by the cons are the ones who have a lot of Seeker traits:clawed digits,wings,sharp dentae,etc. The Decepticons see this as the golden opportunity to make their own super soldiers. When the younglings were brought in they were covered helm to pede with dust,ash, and dirt so no one saw they're similarities to the elite trine until they got cleaned.
Cue all their jaws dropping to the floor when the four younglings walk out the washracks,all of them looking nearly identical to the elite trine,with the one exception being a grounder who had doorwings instead of Seeker wings(who looked like what thundercracker would if he was a grounder).
Now i just want to know what happens when the seekers realize these are their sparklings and the shenanigans they go through to get the rest lol
Poor Trine x bee from the future. I know they’re worried sick
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weirdlookingsnakewithlegs · 4 months ago
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Hit me with a feral Star clip
You get what you ask for, roll the clip!
Hungry
Words: 1091
Seekers were known for being a more… base coded cybertronian life form. Much more intune with their surroundings and environment than most bots. Starscream was no avid exception and Megatron would be lying if he said he wasn’t the least bit interested by the seeker’s strange behavior.
What got his attention in the beginning was the chirps and beeps, so close to a sparklings needy whining that he almost thought he’d accidentally put a youngling in charge of his Air Command. Only to come to the shocking surprise that it was simply a part of the Vosian language. The use of fields and wings along with the chirps and beeps made a language that a grounder like him would never understand.
In the beginning it was nothing more than a fun tidbit, an interesting piece of information, but as time went on other behaviors started to set in. Starscream’s way of marking things was certainly one, he had quickly taken notice that the seeker had been purposefully clawing the walls of the Nemesis and scratching his very plating against sharper corners. The worst part was that his trine would follow suit, copying their leader until the entire Nemesis was marked in scoring.
It didn’t help that Ravage was encouraged by the clawing.
Along with the clawing, seekers were apparently rather vocal. He had seen it in the trines, how one would chirp and they would all go back and forth until they were bored. With Starscream’s trine however, it would last joors. Skywarp always started it, though it seemed that Starscream was too competitive to be the last and Thundercracker gained amusement out of Starscream’s growing annoyance.
Skywarp once got Megatron to beep back at him but the Decepticon leader would never admit such a fumble.
As chaotic and strange as the seekers were, they were useful and so Megatron could take their odd behavior with a grain of salt. Of course, he would soon come regret being so lenient.
It was supposed to be peaceful, just a quick touch and go with Soundwave about a possible supply of energon. Half way through their discussion screaming and the banging of metal began down the hall. Obnoxiously loud pedesteps quickly approaching along with the roar of thrusters.
Annoyance quickly gave way to confusion as Megatron shared a look with Soundwave. Voices down the hall screaming obscenities, similar things he had heard in the Pits of Kaon. Specifically, curses in ones name when things weren’t going the crowds’ way. Well, confusion often gives way to curiosity and Megatron peaked out of the doorway.
The sight before him was something he certainly hadn’t expected. A turbofox, a very terrified turbofox had apparently stowed away on the ship, now running from what Megatron could only assume was a very upset Starscream. It was difficult to tell exactly what Starscream was feeling as he couldn’t see his face while the seeker was in alt mode, but he concluded it to be simply from the chase.
He wasn’t expecting Starscream to suddenly transform midair to slam into the poor creature.
He also wasn’t expecting Starscream to grab onto the turbofox’s neck and tear out its main fuel line. He didn’t even give it time to deactivate before he started eating it. Oh sweet Primus, what the frag.
Shock gripped his frame and it didn’t allow him to warn Soundwave about the sight before him. Unfortunately the third in command also got an eyeful and had quickly turned to look away from the increasingly mangled body. Megatron barely even noticed the slowing pedesteps before Motormaster appeared on the other side of Starscream, along with the other sunticons.
“I told you not to let it go with Starscream around.” Dragstrip hisses.
“How was I going to know he’d fragging hunt it down!” Dead End snaps in response.
Megatron cycles his optics, focusing on the pooling energon around the turbofox’s body as the seeker eagerly tears into its frame. It’s almost terrifying to watch and a few of the stunticons are turning their heads, Soundwave, as well, seems rather uncomfortable. The crunch and scraping of metal is very much unappreciated yet the overlord is at a loss on how to make the seeker stop. His words are failing him at the moment.
After a few moments of hesitation, he takes a step forward only to be immediately snapped at. Starscream’s servo is clinging to his kill while his engine fiercely revs with a freezing growl. Fangs flash dangerously and Megatron barely manages to react before Starscream is tearing into the creature with further intensity. He steps back, deciding it would be best to not lose a digit to the apparently hungry seeker.
He’s so focused on Starscream that he nearly jumps when he hears the sunticons exclaim and he looks up just in time to see Skywarp and Thundercracker barreling through the group to join Starscream. Hissing and snapping ensues, wings flaring before they fall back with little twitches. An understanding seems to happen as the three now eagerly ravage into the deactivated creature.
“Soundwave: uncomfortable.” He hears his third in command speak behind him. Megatron could say the same yet he can’t tear his optics away, especially when Starscream suddenly stops eating to watch Skywarp and Thundercracker take their fill. The seeker opts to lick his energon-covered frame clean, glossia slowly raking over his talons before they retract. His wings twitch and flitter behind him, frame adjusting until he has lifted himself to his pedes. He notices the way the seeker hovers over his trine mates, protective in every way except verbal. The look he gives Megatron almost seems like he’s challenging the Decepticon leader to just try and take his prize.
“Starscream.” The seeker shifts, wings hiked up behind him. “I expect ferocity like this on the battlefield, not wasted on some loose turbofox.”
Starscream’s expression immediately grows snarky, “Apologies Lord Megatron, my tanks were low and couldn’t pass up a good meal. If you have an issue with us not starving you can kindly-“
Megatron holds his servo up, “I was… unaware that your seekers needed more energon and.. metals.”
Expressions switched on a shanix, snarkiness now given way to anger. “Unaware?! I sent you several files on seekers! You stamped them!”
Megatron’s expression drops and he cautiously looks to Soundwave who turns his head away and starts back into the meeting room.
He almost wasn’t prepared for Starscream to launch himself at him in yet another attempt for his life. Though, perhaps this one was deserved.
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itsonlybaby · 9 months ago
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𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞 - 𝐛. 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞﹒
◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
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playlist !
Bellamy Blake - Arkadia
꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ ⸝⸝ bellamy was always known to be aggressive, thinking more with his heart than his head, causing his decisions to be rash and impulsive, thus leading to the massacre of the Grounder army. ever since then, he's been different, but you don't give up on him. ﹒   ⊹  ⤷ cw: sfw, angst, fluff at the end, mentions of death
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"They're back! Open the gate!" I shout from my guard post, now descending the ladder and catching up with the rover carrying my friends.
Despite everyone's disapproval, it had only been a few hours since Pike gave the order to slaughter the Grounder army sent to help us. I disagreed with his choices but I also didn't dare try and stop him.
Bellamy became one of Pike's pawns, I feared for his wellbeing. He isn't the same Bellamy who rescued his people from Mount Weather or the Bellamy who stuck up for me when we first landed. It had sucked seeing him go in this direction.
Bellamy was lost, and he needed Pike, he needed a reason to be angry, he needed a reason to forgive himself for pulling the lever with Clarke. And I'd be there for him, just like he was there for me.
Walking up to the vehicle I spotted Bellamy handing his gun to Miller, the aura around everyone seemed gloomy and regret-filled- everyone except Pike; who took pride in what he did.
"Drinks on me!" I heard Pike yell, a wide smile present on his face. Everyone cheered, Bellamy included; the guilt seeming to pass in seconds.
"Hey Bell," I greeted with a mini smile, grabbing his attention away from Pike.
My smile was returned by the boy in front of me, "Hey, you held down the fort alright?"
I giggled, memories from hours ago returning to me. Bellamy had asked me to keep everyone in place for him. Not that my authority would count or that people would listen to me, but I liked how he trusted me.
"Yeah, everyone bowed down to me. You should've seen it," Bellamy laughed despite the shitty joke, it was something he'd always do. I could never tell if it was out of politeness or shitty humor but to save my own ego id like to think it was because he found me hilarious.
He had a distinctive, infectious laugh you could hear across a crowded room ten years later and know it was him, a laugh that could evaporate tension within seconds. His eyes would crinkle and his brown orbs illuminated with stars, something you'd only notice if you stared deep enough.
I only snapped out of my thoughts when I realized I was staring like a creep.
"Bell, uh, you okay though?" I raised an eyebrow, worry evident in my tone.
Now it was his turn to raise an eyebrow, almost as if he took offense by my question.
"I'm fine,"
"You don't look fine,"
"What would you know about how I feel," Bellamy's words were harsh, coming from a place full of raw emotions left unhealed.
"Because, bell! You're covered in blood that isn't even yours! You just massacred an army of Grounders sent to help us!"I argued, my hands talking along with me, trying to express the intensity.
Bellamy scoffed at me, shaking his head in disbelief at my words, "I did this for my people, I protected us," His finger pointed towards me, "You should be more grateful,"
I couldn't believe the words spewing from his mouth, I told myself I'd be there for him, to support him through these agonizing times but I didn't even recognize him at that moment. It was like I was talking to a completely different person.
I understand being lost, I understand needing all this to make sense, or at least I thought I did.
I uttered, "I don't even recognize you anymore," The anger diminished from my body, being replaced by a sense of an overwhelming feeling of sorrow.
"Yeah, well, I can say the same for you," His voice wavered, "The girl I knew would've been on my side,"
It felt like my world was breaking into a million pieces just from a few words.
Bellamy turned around and headed for the bar leaving me by the rover with my tears, too shocked to do anything other than cry.
I stood and waited, waited for him to turn around, waited for him to apologize, say he didn't mean any of it and that he wasn't okay.
But he never did.
He didn't say anything that entire day, he instead spent it drinking and partying with Pike and their cult.
I like to think of it as a cult, it gives me reassurance that this is just temporary and that he will soon accept the fact he can't change the past. But one can only hope.
Slipping into my jeans I prepared myself for today, I knew it was going to be a long one. I had been paired up with Bellamy to go on a hunt, to take a rover, and to check all the traps we'd set up.
Grabbing my backpack I tossed stuff in that we might need. A Mount Weather medkit, my mini iPod, rope, rations, and a flask. My iPod was my favorite thing, maybe it would make the ride less awkward as well.
Leaving the room I shared with Raven I saw Bellamy leaving his room at the same time. We made quick eye contact before continuing our way to the vehicles. Bellamy got there much quicker due to his bigger strides, seemingly trying to avoid conversation with me.
Well... there goes that.
Opening the passenger side door I placed my bag near the bottom of the seat and climbed it, dusting off my hands after shutting the door. Taking a peek into the side view mirror I saw Bellamy placing two rifles into the back of the car, his brows furrowed.
A few minutes passed before Bellamy got into the driver's seat, his scent filling the car in a good way. He made no move to look or speak to me, simply starting the car and pulling out, beginning our drive.
We made it passed the gate when I decided to hook up my iPod to the AUX cord, gaining Bellamy's attention.
it didn't take long for the rover to be full of sound, the song currently playing was our favorite.
I hummed along to the tune of 'Apocalypse' by Cigarettes After Sex. Bellamy started tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and bobbing his head a few times as well. Only now did I realize how well the lyrics represented our friendship.
It took us until the end of the song to get to the first trap, pausing my iPod I grabbed my bag and hopped out, putting it on and closing the door, once again dusting off my hands. These cars really need to be washed.
Walking to the front of the vehicle I was met with Bellamy pulling out a map.
"Well be on foot from here," He said, eyes focused on the map showing where the animal traps were.
"So he speaks," I teased, walking to the back to pull out the rifles.
"Let's just get this over with," Bellamy reached for a rifle, which I gave. I decided not to reply and just leave it at that, not wanting to anger him further.
After about a 3-minute walk we made it to the first trap, which had caught a... stick. I giggled at this and Bellamy sent me a weird look before resetting the trap and taking the map out once again.
"Lighten up, bell," I said, following his lead.
Bellamy sighed, clearing the path from some straying branches. "I'll lighten up when I know my people have food," His voice showed no sign of emotion, a signal I could pester more.
"Are you mad at me?"
"Why'd you come along? You could've rejected Pike's offer," He snapped back, avoiding the question.
"I came along for you, Bellamy, I care about you,"
Bellamy stopped walking and turned around to face me, glaring into my eyes. "Why aren't you scared of me?" He stepped closer to me, now looking down at me, "I'm scary, a murderer,"
His words had no effect on me.
"Scary? My god, you're divine,"
We were mere inches away now, and his glare seemed to shift to one of longing like he'd been waiting to hear someone say those words.
I felt my breath hitch in my throat when he abruptly hugged me tightly as if I could float away at any moment, his gun dropping to the dirt below.
I wrapped my arms around him, softly rubbing his back as he began crying into my shoulder. It was a rare time he cried, at least in front of me.
"It'll be okay," I soothed, "I'm not going anywhere,"
We stood like that for a while, in each other's embrace, soaking in the moment.
Bellamy was the first to pull away, wiping his cheeks and finally looking at me. At that moment I saw the stars I'd grown to love in his eyes, I knew he needed me just as much as I needed him. I knew I loved him, loved him more than a friend, I wanted to be there for him at his lowest and at his best, I wanted to be someone he could depend on, and be vulnerable with.
"I love you, bell," It was like my mouth had a mind of its own, the words found their way out unrestrained.
A big smile appeared on his face, "You and me, forever, okay?"
"Alright," I nodded, a goofy grin mirroring on my face as well.
The Bellamy I'd grown to love was back.
My Bellamy.
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◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
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rxreid · 1 month ago
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opinions on the friends to lovers trope w bellamy blake💘
i think its like the perfect trope for him icl, aside from maybe enemies to lovers but enemies would last a few days maximum (if you were part of the 100), and then he'd probably befriend his partner (to be) after everyone realises the mutual enemies are the grounders blah blah blah...
in short, i love this trope, and personally i think bellamy would take years to confess to his friend. its so easy with meaningless hookups, or people he doesn't have a strong connection with, but he's a mess when it comes to his feelings for his best friend, and he'd stubbornly push back any lingering thoughts he gets around them.
if you want a lil bit of a deeper dive, more headcanons under the cut!
obviously bellamy is very protective of his friends, they're practically his family, but he'd probably start to notice a different feeling fluttering in his stomach when it came to the safety of that one person.
it would start out on hunts - at first he's pairing you with people he's sure you'll be safe around, until he doesn't feel comfortable with you hunting with anyone other than him. he's enough to protect you - he's your friend and he owes you that duty.
you'd tell him pairing up the two best hunters isn't a smart idea in the greater logic, and he'd respond with a remark about someone else in another pair actually being better than you, and he thinks the teams are perfectly even!
of course, he knows that's a lie. he also knows it would be smarter to pair you off with someone less skilled for teaching purposes - but why would he do that when he's the only one who values your company so much?
those hunts are the highlight of his days, he's sure of it. in amongst all of the bloodshed, the stress of leadership, the death, he knows he's always getting those few hours of downtime with you.
he opens up a little on those hunts, but he catches himself when he thinks he's oversharing, until you press him further and he just never shuts up again.
yapper. but only around this one friend! they're just a friend! (direct quote from bellamy to octavia, no debating.)
you'd probably accidentally hurt yourself on a hunt, tripping over a rock or something stupid, and he lectures you the entire way camp about the importance of sticking by his side. only when out in the forest, of course.
he'd realise his feelings are steering further and further away from friendship when you get caught up in mount weather as part of the 48, and all he can think about is you.
his companion, his confidant, the one person who now knows him almost as well as his sister does, in such a short amount of time, is gone, and he's waring with himself over the circumstance. he needs to get you back.
he's worrying about the others, sure, clarke...and jasper...and whoever else is in there. they're his people, but who is he without his person?
all is well and he gets you back, at a cost, but at least he has you. as much as part of him wants to confess, right then and there as he holds you and tells you he's got you, that you're safe in his arms, he doesn't.
bellamy blake is not one for feelings, no, absolutely not. he has meaningless hookups, and he treats the girls in camp like a merry-go-round. he's definitely not about to venture into the world of relationships. he doesn't want that...right?
OF COURSE HE WANTS IT HES JUST STUPID
anyway i don't wanna sit here and rewrite the entire plot BUT
i think he would take forever to say something, and obviously YOU aren't saying anything - probably oblivious as hell to his inner turmoil...(i would be too).
one thing leads to another, and you'd end up as part of the group on the ring in space, because bellamy would probably rather die than go without you. literally.
clarke makes you leave her behind, and you'd race back to the group, where bellamy is losing his shit trying to make sure raven stays on the ground long enough for you and clarke to get back.
when he sees you, he'd feel everything falling back into place, and he's silently thanking whoever's in control of fate that he doesn't have to spend five years without the comfort of your presence. he doesn't think he'd survive without at least you or his sister.
he'd reach for your hand as you buckle in, disguising it as a gesture of reassurance for your anxiety, but the way he'd squeeze just twice and keep his gentle gaze firmly on you as you ascend into space betrays that.
but you're still just friends, of course. duh!
i think it would literally take 5 out of the 6 years up there for him to even entertain saying something. he convinces himself that you see him as nothing more than a friend. you're affectionate and talkative with all of your friends...he's not special.
it's not like you'd both spent the last five years sitting in front of the large windows at god knows what time, staring out at the earth and sharing your fantasies of a life down there again.
he talks of having a family, a big dog - maybe - if any are left. he doesn't tell you how you plague his visions of a future. he shouldn't. he'd think it's too late now, anyway. you've been best friends too long. he can't ruin that.
until he can't take it anymore.
and only because murphy got annoyed and called him a coward or something for being stuck with you for years and still doing nothing.
thank you murphy!
he doesn't ever want to prove murphy right, so now he's ready to spill!
he probably doesn't even spill lets be real he probably just stares at you and then kisses you idk
but lord does he kiss you. he goes until he physically can't breathe anymore, and even then he only takes a split second to inhale and glance over your face before he's leaning back in, claiming your mouth with his own.
because now, and forever, he's yours. he knows he always has been, he knows he never would have been able to settle into life with anyone who wasn't you.
anyway the part of the friends to lovers trope when they actually become lovers always stumps me...........sorry the build up is too fun
but FINALLY! after a total of like...6-7 years of yearning, he did it. he got it!
and y'know, there's not much to do in space - but there is definitely a bed.
sorry last few hcs are a lil rushed but i really never know what to say when they actually become lovers...so anticlimactic...
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